#panic attacks just really get my ass

[nuks]

hi besties! I feel muchhhh better now that I’ve taken a nap. Sometimes I get like a fussy baby LOL… I enjoyed the training today despite the panic attack, it was really cool touring the farm and learning shit

[whilomm]

oh okay heres one:

"sleepaway camp"= you go there for at least a few days, a week, sometimes several weeks, and sleep there, as opposed to a """camp""" where you go for the day and your parents or whoever picks you up afterward (those arent really camps, but like. idk when i went to "space camp" it was a weeklong but not sleepaway). in the U.S. at least, the typical image of a sleepaway camp involves staying in cabins, dunno how common it is/what it looks like in other countries.

for the first few i just mean like. not necessarily a stealth church camp, just like. idk, a camp where theres also an Assumption Of Christianity and just general vibes without being actually church camp. So, there might not be daily services and jesusy dedicatwd activities, but maybe theres still a prayer said over meals and shit. Which i assume might exist...

(oh and @reblogforsamplesize if u wanna)

[ghost-proofbaby]

alright, a bit of honesty hour here:

i had spent the last two months desperately trying to plan some sort of fun halloween event, but truth be told, i just... fell short. between classes, work, life - i for the life of me could not figure out an event that did not stress me out and i felt confident in completing. which, sort of bummer, because halloween and the month of october is sort of my thing. (i'm a ghost, for fuck's sake).

THAT BEING SAID. i have several halloween themed one shots i'd like to write (currently working on a steve one), but i still wanna do something fun with y'all because you're all just the sweetest and i adore you.

how would we all feel about a low-stakes request situation? y'all send in anything halloween or autumn related, if it strikes any inspiration, i write us some fun shorter shenanigans with our favorite blurbos? i am traveling and just doing a lot this month, but i just really wanna do something. it could be anything. trick or treating with eddie, creepy song fics that you'd like to see, cute fall activities like pumpkin patches with steve - anything y'all's hearts desire. there's no guarantee i could get to every request (usually when i do events i get... a lot of requests. very grateful! my brain just can't pump out 50+ 1k word requests in the span of a month haha), but... yeah. idk.

thoughts? concerns? should i finally shut up? lemme know.

[muzzlemouths]

my doctor never got back to me about the one-day prescription of a sedative so uhhh guess who has two thumbs is claustrophobic and will be raw dogging their MRI tomorrow? yippeeeee................

[turtlecat1440]

Been having panic attacks off and on all day today. At first I thought it was because of my final assignments before I graduate this month. They're really big, and I have a presentation Monday. But I don't think it's that, the slides are done, and I got some good practicing in.

But in my haze I remembered what it ACTUALLY is. I paid my rent today and was reminded that I only have a little over thirty days before I have to move. That means I only have about a week to let the landlord know that I'm moving. And that means the landlord will start to tour our house, and request that it is clean (at least in the past I've had landlords do this). Unfortunately, that means I will probably be doing cleaning, while packing, during my finals.

Apparently it all hit me at once. My finals, my move, the worst of my anxieties triggered all at once.

What's worse, I have a car on jack stands in my Garage that doesn't currently work. I received it completely non-functional, and about twelve weekends of work later the engine is going good. Now, it does run, but it does not, uhh, have wheels. A family member gifted it to me as a project, but neglected to send me the title, so even if it DID work, I'd have to drive it illegally. Asked them for the paperwork a month ago and haven't heard an update. It'll probably cost me around $400 to ship it to my next place, which'll suck, but I'll probably just bite the bullet on that one. At least I can drive it onto the ramp.

Oh yeah, and I forgot to tell the landlord the back deck is rotting and I fell through it, so I gotta get on that too. Just trying to get past today with a modicum of work done, and I'll be happy enough. Maybe I'll skip work Monday.

That is to say, no one thing stresses me out this much, but the culmination of things. Well let's just say, peantic attak.

[orcelito]

Took a few months but the situation at work is finally truly blowing up

I may or may not join in a workplace abuse claim against my old boss using old blog posts and discord messages of me venting as proof ☺️

It'd be me burning the bridge of having him as a reference later down the line, but honestly I think I can get by without him.

[rubiesintherough]

.

[stabknives]

In good faith I cannot fucking put an o.livia r.odrigo song on the v/b playlist. That's gotta be an osha violation.

[jetstargenderfuckery]

.

[tsurugis]

my ass cant fucking sleep because i think my brain is coming to terms with the fact that i cant ignore i might have cancer back lol last thing i want is to find out for sure but here we fucking are

[interstellarbookofflowers]

happy points because maybe its not as bleak as it seems

i finished intensive mental health treatment and i made great supportive friends there! all of them made sure i felt loved and accepted me and my queerness and my arabness and my autism and it was beautiful

ive been to queer karaoke nights two times, during one of which i sung three songs! i shined fr. maybe i was made to stand on a stage bc not only i slayed the songs and impressed everyone (including myself), but i had so nuch fun singing in front of people. plus i made friends!

my best friend is truly just about the most amazing person ive ever met. i am an anxious clown, yet i genuinely am starting to trust that they will be here with me through it all. we've also had many serious conversations and whatever we're building together is beautiful. i wouldnt be here now doing what im doing without them.

i hung out with my muslim friends and ir was so nice! im struggling with my faith thanks to my clownass family, so having some muslim influence mixed in with arab influence was so fresh.

my guitar and singing skills are slowly improving. im trying hard to write songs. im used to writing poetry tho, so it's still kind of shaky. but we will get there! we will be starting to practice with the band soon and i cannot wait!! we also had music sessions with my best friend and those were also really nice

[milo-is-rambling]

Had a nightmare last night that many different large scary animals were trying to break into the house I lived in in New Hampshire and I kept running around and locking doors and screaming and crying and begging for my family to help me and they were just sitting and laughing or sleeping or living their lives and I was watching huge black bears pound on glass sliding doors and fog them up with their breath as they drool over the idea of demolishing my family and there were like big mountain lions finding small holes to crawl through trying to get in and I’m sobbing and bleeding and kicking them and trying to get my family to do something and they don’t even notice and act like I’m crazy

[pika-blur]

i want something metaphysical but i also dont want a criminal record rip

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 7: Firsts

Kyle bought you lunch before your set time. To make sure you ate, he said. He still asked about five times if you felt like you ate enough or needed water even after sitting across from you while you downed a to-go container of pad se ew and your fourth ounce bottle.

You just laugh and point to a piece on your knee. “Babes I got this with nothing but a trenta iced coffee and two hours of sleep in my system. I’m fine, I promise.”

John made a baffled noise at that. Kyle looked like he was going to throw up. That look remained as he went through the process of setting up in John’s studio room. Kyle is meticulous about it. Each step done with care. You feel a bit silly sitting around and twiddling your thumbs.

“Just breathe. It’s fine.” John murmurs in a low rumble that somehow has you relaxing more than the indented party.

“It’s almost more scary doing someone I know.” Kyle huffs.

You laugh. “Can’t be worse than the blown out piece of shit on my left arm. C’mon, I’ve seen what you can do. You’ve got this.”

John nods, sitting on the other side of you.

“Besides, even if it sucks I’ll still be honored to be your first real apprentice tattoo.” You pipe up.

Kyle chuckles, low and unsure. Part of you wants to give him an out, to say he doesn’t have to, but you can see the set of his jaw even as his eyes flick between his supplies and the stencil in his hand nervously. He’s determined as much as he is scared. There’s no getting him out of that headspace until he’s done.

You chose something easy. One of Kyle’s more dainty, simple flash designs for the back of your thigh, just below the curve of your ass. A little bow with minimal shading. Something he’s practiced a thousand times and an easy enough starting point. Plus, you already mentioned having him do a matching one on the other side when he’s ready for it. Easy practice.

“C’mon, at least get the stencil on before you have a panic attack.” You try to keep your voice light, turning your back to him.

Kyle sighs. You hear his stool roll forward as he scoots in close to place it. John shuffles around to stand over him. A nasty part of your brain complains about exposing your cellulite to these two fit men but you push that deep down into nothing. A second, more embarrassing part wonders if you should have chose a more appropriate spot… that maybe you shouldn’t be standing in front of your boss and coworker in teeny-tiny biker shorts that barely cover you. You shove that down right next to the other mean thoughts.

You pointedly ignore the heat that shoots up your spine as Kyle’s hands feel out the shape of your thigh to get it centered - keeping your eyes forward as he slowly presses the paper against you. You could swear a thumb traces the curve of your cheek as he smoothes it but that’s probably just wishful thinking.

“Good job, kid.” John claps a hand on Kyle’s shoulder as soon as the paper is pulled away. You turn around in the mirror to check it, expecting to probably have to move it, but from what you can tell it really is perfect.

“Damn, dude, on your first try!” You grin, clapping happily.

Kyle nods stiffly, but you see the way the corner of his mouth quirks up. You unceremoniously clamber onto the table, moving around so your back doesn’t hurt from laying flat for the next few hours with your arms folded under your head.

“Hey.” You whisper while John steps away to grab something. “Get through this without freaking out and I’ll give you a reward.”

“A reward?” He tilts his head, smile turning from an nervous curl of his lip to a boyish grin.

You jokingly bat your lashes. “I’ll give you a kiss.”

Kyle chuckles. “With tongue?”

You gawk, face hot. “Mr. Garrick! Where’d my knight in shining armor go?”

“Just tryin’ t’ figure out exactly what I’m workin’ toward.”

You hum, pretending to mull it over. “We’ll see. Depends on how well you do.”

Kyle levels a look at you, something heated as his lip catches between his teeth. It’s only there for a moment, gone as soon as he turns to his tools. Replaced by a laser focus.

“Alright.” John settles back into his seat on your other side. “Let’s do one line and then see how we all feel.”

Kyle nods. You shuffle a little to make you’re you’re as comfortable as possible for the next however long. You know it’s going to be a while even if it isn’t a simple design. He’s new and precise with means slow.

The familiar whirr of the gun starts up. You shut your eyes, waiting, hoping that you aren’t projecting any more tension into the room than Kyle is. The needle stings when it finally touches you, but not as badly as you braced for. His touch is light.

He pulls the gun away and let’s put a giant sigh. “How y’feel, luv?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m all good. You?” You tilt your chin a bit to meet his eye.

“Better now that it’s started.”

“Good.” John nods, chest bumping your leg as he leans forward to look. “Looks good. Keep on.”

The room is nearly silent as he works. You turned down the music before coming back so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed - at least that was your reasoning. You’d get overwhelmed. Kyle is more levelheaded than you are, though.

“Thassit.” John smiles - or at least that’s how it sounds in his voice. “Her skin takes ink so well, yeah?”

Fuck, that totally should not do it for you. Gravelly voiced British bastard. You keep your eyes locked onto the flash on the far wall as you attempt to cool down.

Kyle just hums, seemingly unable to talk as he concentrates. He probably is with how dialed in he looks. You take a break before he gets to shading, stretching and getting some water. It takes a while, but not as long as you assumed. You start to get that ache in your skin partway through the shading - that feeling when your nerves are so tired from firing off pain receptors they just all sort of start burning dully.

However long later Kyle pulls away. “I… think it’s done?”

“You think?” John challenges.

Kyle sighs before speaking with more finality. “It’s done.”

There’s a few beats where John assess and you hold your breath. He points to a couple spots where Kyle’s hand slipped a bit or he applied too much pressure, but when you check it out in the mirror yourself you don’t see that all. Perfectionists.

You can’t help but squeal and jump, clapping happily and barely standing still while Kyle puts the saniderm on. You’re just to happy! Not only did Kyle get his first tattoo done but now you have brand new (free) cute ink to show off. Kyle looks tired, though, so you try not over overwhelm him while he cleans up. Concentrating like that with anxiety must have really taken it out of him.

You sort of forget about your promise of a reward for the next week. Too busy focusing on taking care of your new tattoo. The only downside to the placement is sitting in your office chair itches - especially once you take the saniderm off. You’ve mostly taken to standing while working and wearing shorts and skirts to let it breathe. It’s worth it, though. You’ll have to ask Kyle how soon he wants to do the other one. Without being pushy, of course.

You quietly hum to yourself as you get the cash drawers ready to lock away in the backroom safe. Triple checking the bags and making sure tips are divided correctly, etc.

“Hey, lovie.” Kyle saddles up behind you suddenly, hands on your hips.

You jump. “Holy shit, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry.” He chuckles. A hand slips down your hip, palm tracing the hem of your tennis skirt to lightly rest over the little bow. “How’s she healin’?”

“It’s, uh, it-“ You stutter, eyes wide and skin hot. If it were Johnny, you’d laugh and swat him away - maybe let his hand wander to your ass first - but Kyle doesn’t do this. Not that you don’t like it - the problem lies in that you’re liking it too much. If the patter of your heart is anything to go by. “It’s good. Not itching yet or anything.”

Kyle hums. “Good.”

“Th-that all?”

“Think you forgot somethin’.” He turns you around, hands firmly planted on the softness of your waist. When you just give him a bewildered look he continues. “I was promised a reward, I think.”

“O-oh?” Your face burns, eyes wide. Is he serious? Part of you wants to say no - to push him away. You’re coworkers, after all. Until your eyes meet his, so big and warm and his lips forming a perfect pout. “John….?”

Kyle chuckles ans crosses his chest. “John won’t care. Cross my heart.”

He gives you a moment to mull it over. You don’t think he’s making fun of or bating you - Kyle wouldn’t do that. There’s no way he’s interested either. That’s one delusion you can firmly plant in the ’purely imaginary’ category.

Whatever. What do you have to lose from a little back room make out?

Your lips meets his. Fuck, they’re soft. He steals your breath - greedy and gentile. It’s been so long since you’ve been kissed, much less kissed well. One of the hands on your waist moves to your low back as Kyle leans into you. Your hands grapple onto his shoulders to steady you. He takes advantage of your gasp at being tilted back to swipe is tongue between your lips.

You mould together, breaths heavy and tongues dancing. A needy, pathetic little part of you wishes the hand that drifted from your waist to your hip would hook under your thigh. That Kyle would tilt you all the way back onto the desk and throw your leg over his shoulder, eagerly pushing up your skirt-

An ‘I love you’ dances on the tip of your tongue and you reel back harshly, hand flat on his chest to separate you.

“Alright?” He murmurs, eyes half lidded and dark.

You swallow roughly and nod, breathing hard. “I, uh, I need to finish the safe.”

Something passes across his face briefly as your eyes flick between his. Whatever it was, it’s replaced by his usual easy smile as he returns to standing at his full height, the hands on your waist steady you before disappearing. Your stomach drops as they go.

“See you tomorrow.” Kyle murmurs, pressing one last little peck on your cheek before striding away, leaving you alone in the back room with a hot face and whirlwind thoughts.

Fuck.

A/N: brought to you by the time a tattoo artist told me my skin takes ink well in the most haunting bedroom voice I’ve ever heard😵‍💫 killed me right then and there

[roaringheat]

Working bar solo at Starbucks on a Sunday is fr a layer of hell

[bambiesfics]

𝗘𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗦𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗚𝗳 — Ellie x Bimbo!r

𝜗𝜚 Author’s notes ✦ Butch/femme dynamics, Ellie has a panic attack, this references joel’s death, anxiety, bile, nausea, and hyper sexual themes, Ellie’s butch, wears a packer/strap. Refers to it as cock, dick etc Reader’s a bimbo and genuinely stupid. Ellie gets really scared.

𝜗𝜚 Ellie Williams ✦ I listened to Vietnam - Crystal Castles it’s tempo mirrors Ellie’s panicked anxiety. I’ve linked to a few seconds before the beat drops, on YouTube for accessibility. Listen with earphones so the music fucks your ears.

𝜗𝜚 If you find yourself uncomfortable with the themes in this fic, maybe try educating yourself on Butch sexuality. Read this to get a sense of Ellie’s headspace.

kisses u. ⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡.

Ellie fisted the joystick into neutral and killed the engine. She cracked all 5 knuckles before reaching over to release your seatbelt. The belts cold buckle sprang across your breasts and over your shoulder, turning your nipples visibly hard and full in their wake. Ellie fought off the urge to glance down; to drink them in. She was semi-successful at managing away her inner teenage boy every time it chose to rear its ugly hungry head at inopportune moments.

  “So…” she started, her hand massaging the inner dough of your thighs, warmed by the hug of your crossed legs. “We just gettin’ your little sparkly earrings? Or are you gonna get distracted and spend more money than I make in a single paycheck?” 

  You ran your palms up the sleeves of Ellie’s brown military jacket. Fascinated by the texture of the rough fabric everytime one of its crinkles caught against your acrylic nails. You couldn’t fathom how Ellie walked around in clothes so rough and distressed, all of your outfits were soft cotton or silky satin. And here Ellie wore a deconstructed uniform jacket like it was meant for her body. You blinked away your distracted thoughts, and leaned into nose at her neck. Pressing nose and lips to the source of the most comforting scent in the world to you. Allspice, cigarette smoke, and 2-in-1 body wash. There was still a faint trace of her cologne, you wish she wore it, the traces of it made you go brainless for your butch.

  “Earrings only.” Your sweet voice was muffled against her neck. She reached her other hand up to cup the back of your neck. The cold metal of her rings kissed your skin, but you leaned into it.   

 “I’ll wait for you right here, peach.” 

“Okay.” You nodded obediently. 

“Don’t spend too long in there, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded once again. 

“If anyone stares at you too long or makes you feel weird for being girly, call me and I’ll meet you wherever. Especially those judgemental ass grandmas.”

You looked up at her, her hair was in her eyes, casting a shadow that turned her gaze into a deep hunter green. 

You leaned in slowly and kissed her lips. Ellie attempted to chase the kiss, until you slid your hand between the valley of her breasts and urged her to stay. Behave baby boy. 

  Ellie’s right eyebrow quirked up in response, impressed that you kept her in check. That you knew her so well that you could tell exactly where that kiss could’ve led to if you didn’t tell her to slow down. 

“Be right back here in an hour.” Ellie was relishing in how your thumb rubbed across her chest. Your hand rested on her chest like you were her little damsel in distress, looking to her to save you. You made her feel like Clark Kent, and it made her want to puff her chest out. 

  “Hour-and-a-half, I wanna get ice cream.” You prattled.

  “An hour.”

  “Ellieeee” You whined. 

  “If you’re not back here by 2:30 pm, I’m stomping into Icing myself, throwing you over my shoulder and marching right back out.” 

  “Please as if you could hoist me up over your shoulder.” You leaned over to fish Ellie’s wallet from her back pocket. 

  Ellie side-eyed you intensely as she tracked the movement. She enclsaped your wrist in an iron grip once your acrylics brushed the back pocket of her jeans. Her thumb pressed down. You couldn’t move.

“You didn’t seem confused about my strength when I lifted you into that full nelson and pounded you in front of the mirror.” She dropped her blue steel face and started grinning like a fox. “Uhnnuhuh Ellie, m’gonna squirt. I’m gonna squirt on you daddy.” She mocked in a high-pitched overly feminine voice. She drew her eyebrows together to school up the appearance of someone deliriously aroused. One that mimicked your cock-drunk face all those days ago.  

  Ellie dropped the comedic expression for a moment, in favor of replacing it with the one she sported to intimidate customers who started testing her boundaries or her patience. The one that said ‘respect me.’  

“Fuck you, asshole. I’m made of steel.” She spat.

  You leaned up, and just planted a glossy kiss on her cheek. She blushed until she was cherry tomato red. She always blushed harder when you were affectionate to her, in the middle of her egotistical masculine delusions. Like a mom kissing her son's cheek, after he called himself Spider-Man. 

Ellie would tease you for hours. But remind her again you were her adorable little girlfriend who she worshiped, then she’d be back to acting right again. Ready to hump the air just to get a whiff of your hair. Sweet and pliable. Ellie crossed her fingers subtly and hoped you got specks of glitter gloss on her cheek from that kiss. She wore your kisses like merchandise. Those and the smell of your pussy on her mouth and fingers. Some days, the smell was just smeared all over her face. 

  You blinked at her, slow and pouty in the way that got her real happy and pleased. “Now that you’re done poking and teasing me, can I go inside to get my sparkly earrings?” 

Ellie slid her wallet into your palm, her lips parted at the way your acrylics snatched it. The way they sunk into the soft leather. Mmmm.

  “An hour.” 

You climbed out of her beat up hatchback. The metal groaned as you slammed the door shut. “See you Els, if I get in trouble or get lost I’ll call you okay? I charged my phone this time. Bye-bye.”  You sing-songed just before walking away, out of the parking lot and towards the entrance of the mall.

  You were the utter definition of hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go. Ellie drank in the very very obvious little characters of your ass. The jiggly flesh, dimpled skin, and the way they smacked each other with each step. The type of visual someone could only see if the person walking in front of them was naked. Which you practically were considering how your pink cotton leggings looked painted on. The silhouette was way too intimate with how well it showed the character of your ass. She could’ve forced you to change, but you two had such a good morning today. 

Ellie didn’t want to—no—she hated picking fights with you. Ellie being mad at you? That was just another Tuesday. She had temperament issues, trauma, death of a loved one blah blah blah. But you being mad at Ellie? She’d kill herself. She shuddered in the car at the thought of it, and swallowed her jealousy. Everyone sees your little dimpled ass? Fine. She’s the only person that’s seen it twerking for her during backshots. And anyway, you’d get jealous if she wore gray sweatpants to work, so she kinda understood the sentiment. Especially because she packed everywhere, and the bulge was glaring. 

  Ellie wrapped her knuckles on the steering wheel. Trying to distract herself from the slow and lonely weight of the parking lot. Joy Division’s “disorder” played in her head. She considered pulling out a Marlboro to smoke, but thought against it. She remembered how you squealed whenever she kissed you with cigarette breath, telling her how it made your kisses taste so bitter. 

Truth be told, she was just as clingy with you, as you were to her. You just initiated it more often. When someone follows her around like a little puppy trying to catch up to its much larger owner all day, it’s hard not to notice their missing presence. 

  Ellie played with her rings as the mounting anxiety gnawed at her tummy. She turned her wrist over to check her watch. Ten. Only ten minutes had gone by? Fucking christ. 

She puffed out her cheeks. Yeah she was being ridiculous. Knowing you, you probably had only just arrived at the store, and that meant making a cute pikachu face at every new piece of merchandise they shipped into the shop floor that week. So it’d be a while before you were back. She could’ve gone in with you, but Ellie knew her presence there would’ve weirdly encouraged you to take a full day tour of the mall. She was your walking wallet apparently. But it’s worse when the wallet can actually give in.

  It was better this way, you kept her card in hand, but Ellie wasn’t physically there to actually convince of anything. So you couldn’t use it to buy anything more than earrings. Plus, she couldn’t stand another trip to Victoria’s Secret. As much as she loved the way you modeled a show for her whenever you tried stuff on, and as much as the jokes she cracked with the other boyfriends waiting for their girlfriends to be done made for good conversation, Victoria’s Secret just served to make her feel incredibly out of place. Mostly due to its overtly sexual displays of femininity. Something she still struggled to place how she felt about. All Ellie knew was that she didn’t want it.

Matter of fact she had repelled femininity so much, it even reflected in her dating preferences. You were by far the most feminine girl Ellie had ever dated. That was a considerably large shift from the tomboys she typically had crushes on in highschool.  

But she couldn’t help but be turned on by the way your acrylics stroked her bulge, by the way you blinked up at her with those dolly lashes like you needed her approval more than you needed oxygen, by the way she got both wet and enraged seeing men’s gazes linger on you as she walked behind you. Lingering in a way that they never did for any of her exes. It ignited a possessiveness in her she had convinced herself she didn’t have the ability to feel. Made her walk out the house with her shoulders drawn up to her ears, scowling. As if to say to all the men, ‘fuck off, get your own cocksleeve. This one’s claimed.’ 

  You were the cutest cocksleeve too. The human embodiment of a little bow for her dick. 

Just the thought prompted her to squeeze her bulge through her jeans, feeling phantom erections.

God it’d been how long now? Ellie checked her watch, reading the watch face to make sure she’d read that right. Twenty minutes? Only?

  Her palms started perspiring, and she started grinding her teeth. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. She’ll be back any minute. Be cool, you freak. 

Ellie reached to grab her phone, but the way the time flashed at the top bar of the screen made her stomach knot up anxiously. She chucked her phone into the passenger seat, and rolled down the window to get some fresh air. It felt beautiful for a moment, her rough short hair curling around the wind and blowing in her eyes. But then she felt like she couldn’t breathe again. Like her throat was squeezing in on itself. So Ellie unbuttoned the top button of her navy plaid button down. She yanked the collar away from her neck, and took deep breaths. Nice and deep slow breaths. The demonic little shadows and whispers of panic ebbed away, leaving only room for peace and the sunlight of the early afternoon. Ellie smiled, she’d be fine. 

She played with her rings, recounting all the places and dates she’d thrifted them from. Then she started fidgeting with them as her leg bounced in the car, working off some of that returning nervous energy. The little shadows were starting to creep back in her mind again. Ellie white-knuckled the steering wheel. “No, no, no please. Not now, please not now.” She sucked in a deep breath as unshed tears lined her waterline. She flipped her wrist watch face up quickly, you’d been gone for thirty-five minutes by this point. And Ellie felt her skin run cold. thirty-five minutes left twenty-five minutes. Twenty-five more minutes for the ebb and flow of panic to infect her brain and trigger her adrenaline response. Twenty-five more minutes of letting her own mind attack itself. Ellie couldn’t stomach the thought. She started gasping as she fidgeted to remove the car keys from the ignition. The dark whispering shadow only urged her to look at one thought in her mind: Alone. You’re alone again, Ellie. 

  She nearly keeled over from the sheer nausea that thought brought about. Ellie tripped out of her car, slammed the door and stumbled towards the mall as her heartbeat thundered louder than her thoughts. And her thoughts were very loud. Her face felt tight and itchy, as she ran. And due to the combination of wind and glossy eyes, her vision warped until it became disfigured. Which only set off to make her blood run icier. Like she was being deprived of all her necessary  senses as she yanked the mall door open and stumbled around trying to wade her way through until she got to the side where women’s jewelry and clothing was huddled. Her vision was disjointed, Ellie felt as if she was looking through a fish-eye lens. It caused bile to rise in her throat. Ellie was spiraling, she knew it. And if she didn’t find you—fuck where were you?—it was only going to get uglier for her. She despised being reduced to ugly. She hated herself when she was ugly. 

  Snot mixed in with tears as she scaled the walls of the mall trying to use the brightness of pink and white signs to guide her to the right store. You promised you’d go to icing, you promised you’d go to icing, you promised you’d go to icing. She hummed the mantra in corners of her brain.

She gurgled “better fucking be at Icing otherwise I’m gonna kill he—my heart christ—fuck fuck fuck baby please be at icing.” The palpitations rolled in, causing her heart to beat erratically. Two beats instead of one, a skipped beat, or an extra hard beat. Every bastardized combination instead of the reliable, glub-glub of a healthy heart. Ellie gripped her own shirt, and tried to feel any lingering warmth from your hand when you placed it there nearly an hour ago. Her breaths were coming out ragged, and she was still blind with a disjointed vision no matter how much she rubbed her jacket across her eyes to soak up tears. Ellie stumbled until she saw a store with the familiar lettering, and she yanked and tugged at her shirt to ground herself as she made her way to the checkout lane. “Hi.” Her voice came out so small and strained. She hated herself for it. 

  “Have you seen a girl, she’s—seems about yay-high and she’s wearing pink leggings and a tight pink top. Oh—she’s pretty—long nails. My girlfriend, do you know where my girlfriend is?” Ellie choked, her sanity was slipping. Her bloodshot eyes were crazed as she stared down at the cashier like the woman held the answer to curing Ellie’s mental suffering. 

  “N-no. Sorry I didn’t see a girl with pink leggings.”

  “No?” Ellie’s voice grew fainter, weaker. She sobbed “are you sure?” but her voice crackled with that sentence, and the cashier just stared at her with a puzzled expression, unsure of what to say to diffuse the situation. 

  Ellie stumbled out of the store, flinching at the expressions of customers who were looking around the store to see if they were the only one witnessing the girl's mounting panic attack. She ran to an empty hallway in the mall. The one where they kept those gumball machines that hadn’t been replaced since 1998. She fell to her knees and curled in on herself. Her nails scratched her scalp until it broke skin, trying to draw out the thoughts of being alone, being alone, being alone, being, alone, being alone, being alone, being alone, being alone, out of her head. 

Ellie tugged at her hair now, using the self-inflicted pain to distract from that hungry giggling fear, the one that wrapped itself around her eyes and throat and told her to describe what she saw: loneliness. Pitch black, devoid of warmth, pure unadulterated isolation. 

She needed you, needed you so bad as she cried to herself on her knees. She should’ve never let you go alone, she should’ve never let you walk away from her, she should’ve never let you have an hour to leave her, she should’ve never let you take her wallet and not take her, she should’ve never ever ever ever ignored the signs, the raised hairs and the feeling of dread that pooled in her stomach the past week. Just waiting to be triggered by something insignificant. Now it was triggered, and in an incredibly public place too. Ellie beat her chest, coughing just to bring herself down from the dissociative hell her mind was flinching in. “Baby where are you? I’m hurting…it’s hurting me again. Pleasepleasepleaseplease, peach.”  

  Nails bluntly tickled her nape, sending a shiver down her spine just as the smell of sweet jasmine and vanilla perfume engulfed her. Ellie broke from her kneeling fetal position to draw you into her lap. She didn’t even need to look at you, she knew you like the back of her hand. Ellie knew the feeling of those acrylic nails because of how deeply they’d scratched down her back in bed. She knew the smell of your perfume from how often she’d buried her face into your waiting body after work for comfort. Her grip was painful, likely breaking capillaries from its tightness. She mewled for you like a kitten finding its mother. “Babygirl.” 

  “Ellie—Ellie I’m sorry did I take too long? I set an alarm, I don’t think it went off, I’m sorry Ellie I didn’t mean too I promise.” Ellie let out a wet laugh from where her face was crooned in your neck. She just shook her head. It absolutely was not your fault. But God weren’t you just the cutest fucking thing in the world for thinking you’d made another little mistake? How sweet, that even in the face of Ellie’s utter mental crack and breakdown, you found a way to give your baby the benefit of the doubt. Ellie dragged her face up your neck, inhaling deeply as her nose traced a path up your throat. The scent alone was like Xanax to the nerves, drowning her in a sea of serenity. Letting the anxiety ebb away until it was no more than a dull twinge, the whispers reduced to muted hums. You were her light. Ellie’s grip on you tightened, her medicine. 

  She pulled her face away, and she could only imagine how distressed she must’ve looked by the way your eyebrows drew up, and by the way your pretty little lips formed a worried pout. Ellie gnawed on her bottom lip. There was nothing to fear, you would understand. 

“You didn’t take too long princess, I just had a panic attack.”

  Your hands flew to cup Ellie’s reddened blotchy cheeks, massaging her face cutely as her eyelashes fluttered. God, you were a balm. “I should’ve seen it coming, I’ve been feeling so out of it the past week. But then this morning was so fun. We made fluffy pancakes, you sat on my lap and listened to my dumb work drama, helped me trim my bangs, then...” Ellie blew air into her cheeks and looked up. This was going to be hard to say. Felt like a lump stuck in her throat. “Then we got ready and the kiss we had before we got in the car made everything melt away. This morning was so good baby, so good. I tried to ignore it, thinking my brain just wanted to be a little asshole and spook me for no reason. But no—I should’ve known—it doesn’t play tricks, it only gives warnings.” 

  Ellie leaned into your palms, she kissed them gently. “Can we go home baby?.” She held your gaze through wet eyelashes. You nodded “Mhm. I’m sorry Els I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I missed you.” You were disappointed because you didn’t intuitively know the right words to say, and how to say them. Didn’t know how to articulate that you understood her pain but she also shouldn’t beat herself up. Everything you thought of sounded cliche, you weren’t smarter than her, you weren’t able to come up with reassuring words the way other people could. Not like her uncle Tommy or Maria, or anyone. All you could do was cover her in kisses, tell her you loved her, that next time you’d never ever be separated from her, and cradle her head against your chest. 

  Ellie rose to her feet, pulling you up with her by your elbows. The kiss that followed was for comfort, for reassurance. For the feeling of squeezing her human emotional support plushie. 

  Ellie pulled away first, leaving you wanting more. She tasted so good, smelled so good. Made you want to pur and stroke her through her jeans. But it wasn’t the time nor place. Not after recent events. 

“Did you get your earrings at least?” 

“Yeah, I got a pair for you too!” You shared excitedly. 

  Ellie was still shaken up, but for now she could break out a small grin. “You got earrings for me?”

  “Yes, same color too!” 

  “Baby, my ears aren’t even pierced...”

  “Oh.” Ellie loved that, your characteristic little ‘oh’. 

“I knew that. I just got them for when—for when you decided to pierce them, yeah.” 

Ellie was hot in your heels as you two made your way out of the mall “Is that right?”

“Mhm.” You refused to meet her eyes.

“Oh yeah? K, then. Thank you so much for getting me a gift using my credit card.”

 “You’re very welcome, I love when we match as a couple. Els when we got home, did you want my chicken noodle? Cause it’ll make you feel better.”  

Ellie sucked in a breath. Cuteness aggression was real, and she was feeling it so hard right then. Right after her emotions had already been frayed by her anxiety. She knew, if it wasn’t for the way the panic attack had left her feeling utterly exhausted, bone tired like a wet blanket, ready to drop at a moment's notice to recuperate, that she would’ve done something that would’ve pulled a squeal out of you in the car. And she had the package to do so. 

  “Sure, I’ll eat your damn noodle soup.” She chuckled tiredly. 

  You put both palms on her chest and leaned in to kiss her, stealing back some of the desire that was ripped away too soon in the mall. 

“You’ll feel better in no time.” 

 Ellie gave you a once-over. Over eager, as usual. 

“Somehow I don’t doubt that.” 

  You littered her face in kisses all the way home, like you always did. Like you thought each press of your lips to her freckled face was going to cure her of her anguish. And believe Ellie, every press of your puffy lips to her cheeks, tip of her nose and forehead did more for her state of mind than two hours of trauma therapy a week did. Or at least that’s what she’d like to believe. Fuck the noddle soup, it’s you. You’re what’s going to make her feel better. As long as you’re there, everyday for her to come home to. All she needed was her pretty princess, her little babydoll, her little bimbo.