#<- in regards to my own mental health like the mental exhaustion that can come from it i hope this makes sense

[ozymoron]

reading posts that come across my dash and sitting for a minute to debate with my mental disorder if not reblogging this will mean a hell portal will open beneath my feet and i will suffer for eternity for my lack of action or if its all good and i can just scroll on by (its usually the hell portal thing)

[a-d-nox]

pac: mid-year reflection - what have you accomplished and what should you be working on for the rest of the year?

i'm trying something new, a pick a card. take what resonates leave what doesn't - nothing is 100% for you because these aren't personalized so please no angry comments or dms about what i am saying not being a good fit for you or that you "don't claim" just keep scrolling if that is the case. be kind, self reflect, and have fun.

last pac/pap: what exists before you that you can't see?

masterlist of pap/pac posts

want a personal reading? click here to check out my reading options and prices!

pile one

accomplished: you have fought past a hard time within your family. you broke free from the expectations and control you felt from them - good for you paving your own path!! you are now ready for the next level. continue to recharge and heal mentally as you prepare yourself for what is next. have faith you did the right thing - there is no going back now. continue to seek out inspiration for actions - and acting accordingly to your inspiration. you are steadily working towards achieving something just for yourself. just remember to remain flexible and have some patience for yourself.

still working on: you still have to work on your authority and stability - its not so improved that you can just move on. it's a process. practice being calm despite the chaos - manage your anxiety/stress. trust that you are mature enough to handle yourself and your situation. it's all about confidence, so get in touch with yours. don't be afraid to kick things up a notch. you have to practice stepping outside your comfort zone if you want to see some serious growth. at the same time, it wouldn't hurt you to take a break and take a step back from time to time (don't push yourself - you'll find yourself burnt out). you also have to work on not feeling so stuck - the past is in the past, nothing is guaranteed, fitting in is overrated, you aren't competing with anyone - that is all in your mind, and (this one you might not be ready for) your loneliness is likely self imposed (put yourself out there). take back your power in that regard! take some small steps towards what you truly want and you will feel a whole lot better before 2025.

pile two

accomplished: you have finally stopped putting so much pressure on yourself. it's such a relief! i know you are a perfectionist but it gets exhausting, no? but now you can see it's just not productive to continually compare yourself to others and now you are free. keep happily say "no" while focusing on what truly brings you joy. i feel like it's also a good thing you have lower your bar for yourself. high hopes are good but not to the detriment of your mental health and self-image. delays are okay - it's okay if you're vision is not true to reality; its probably healthier this way so keep reminding yourself that. just keep working and you will get what you need and where you need to be.

still working on: keep working on connecting with your intuition. start reconnecting with your gut - stop relying on others and allowing them to influence you. also it is imperative that you let go of whatever it is that you are clinging to. change only comes when you accept endings. surrendering what is leaving or has left allows for peace and gratitude for what still remains - so stop clinging, surrender, and create space in your life for new things. embrace some spontaneity in your life - something is about to happen and you just need to say "yes" (which sounds crazy when you read the accomplished section but you will know your say "yes" opportunity when you work past your disconnect with your gut). maybe it's travel, maybe a person, etc. say yes, take a chance. ride a wave.

pile three

accomplished: i am very proud of you. i feel like you're saving for something and are being proactive with your finances instead of spending unnecessarily. that or you are feeling a bit more stabilized and secure in a situation that was bothering you earlier in the year. you just have to keep trusting that you have what you need. give some credit to yourself for your hard work. i also feel like you learned something extremely important that really had a profound influence/impact on you these last 6 months. maybe you met someone who is helping you to be wiser about how you live life and appreciate life too. you could also be moving past something that really disappointed you or hurt your feelings. you aren't too hurt by the past to not try again - you have hope once more. your emotions are no longer stagnant or restricted as they once were. keep up the good work!

still working on: you haven't been working on something that you have been planning to - it's time you stop pushing it off and get to work. stop being so frustrated and impatient with yourself due to the lack of progress you are making. be real with yourself and stop procrastinating then you will have no reason to be frustrated. otherwise, it might be time you adjust your expectations. start doing what you love again. hard work, no matter daunting it may be, will pay off when it's something you believe in. hell even if its small bits of progress, it's better than nothing. some progress will improve your spirits. life will get in your way to test how badly you really want something oftentimes. there is something to gain in breaks and stillness - start waiting around when you finally realize what it is.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + seventeen

authors note: this chapter covers the aftermath of solana's attempt in the previous chapter. please heed to content warnings in order to make an informed decision regarding reading this chapter.

i'm going to handle solana's experience in the hospital as realistically as i can, but there are creative liberties taken as well. and don't come for me for the ending either. :/

cw/tw: angst, discussion and coverage of the aftermath of a suicide attempt, mental health discussions.

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 15k

Roman has a long to-do list. He always does and always will. But, this is by far one of the last things he wants to do. 

He’s going on 24 hours of no sleep, which isn’t the first time he’s done as such, but it’s the first time he’s done as such and actually felt the impact of the sleep deprivation. And truth be told, deep down he knows the exhaustion that he feels is more mental than anything.

It’s the result of the toll that finding out Solana tried to kill herself has taken on him. 

Is taking on him.

But, he can’t deal with that shit right now. He can’t deal with it because he’s got his Wise Man, Rikishi, Solo, Jimmy and Jey all sitting around him, wearing various levels of confused expressions. Which only irritates Roman more because Rikishi and Paul are the only ones who should be confused. The twins have been with him dealing with all of the shit the past 24 hours. 

Solo too.

Rikishi is the first to speak, studying Roman. The Tribal Chief is more than sure he noticed the grimace on Roman’s face as he went to roll his shoulders, remembering yet again of the wound that probably won’t heal as quickly as predicted given the fact he’s done the complete opposite of ‘taking it easy.’

“You gonna tell us what happened or—”

“There was an assassination attempt on Solana’s life last night.” Roman’s sentence is matter-of-fact and to the point, nevermind the fact that his right hand forms into a fist at just saying as such. 

Rikishi and Paul share shocked expressions, Roman’s older cousin being the one to ask, “is she—”

“Bullet hit me instead. Didn’t lodge. I’ll be fine.” Roman only adds that last part because of the horrified look on Paul’s face, already knowing his Wise Man will bombard him with questions about his injury. “Xavier Miller and his boy were behind the attempt. I’m handling them now.” 

“But sir, why would Miller want his own daughter dead?”

Roman closes his eyes and rolls his neck, working to settle his rising temper. He hates talking about this shit. It only spikes his eagerness to get his hands on Miller and rip him apart limb by limb. “Because she didn’t go along with his plan.”

Rikishi speaks up again. “Plan?”

Roman’s jaw clenches. “He wanted her to kill me.” 

The rest of the men look equally shocked, Paul gasping loudly, asking, “she’s a traitor?”

If looks could kill, Paul would be six feet under. Roman has to mentally restrain from acting out on his suddenly murderous urges. “She’s my wife.”

Rikishi, however, seemingly tosses his longtime friend a lifeline, trying to reason with his younger cousin. “Uce, that doesn’t mean she can’t be both—”

“What I’m hearing….” Solo surprises the men around the table as he sits forward. “—is that she can’t be trusted.”

Roman isn’t sure just how much of his anger and rage at the accusations being slung against Solana is showing, his Solana, but it must be enough for the twins, of all people, to try and de-escalate.

“Come on now, this is Soso we talking about.” Jimmy is the first to kick off peacemaking. He looks at his father, “pops, you was there when we first met her. She was nervous as shit. Ain’t nothing about that girl dangerous.”

Jey chimes in, handling Solo. “And you of all people should definitely know that’s not Solana. She would never hurt nobody, let alone kill nobody.”

Solo, however, simply scoffs. “Like she ain’t hurt her brother?”

“What was she supposed to do? Let him beat her?” Jimmy is the one to snap, shouting back with a suck of his teeth, “man, that bitch deserved it!”

Rikishi jumps in, defending his younger son. “I think what Solo is trying to say is that it proves she is, in fact, capable of hurting someone if she wanted to.”

“Why would she want to hurt Roman? That don’t even make no—”

“Enough!” Roman’s fist slams down on the table. “The next person to say one more negative thing about my wife is getting a bullet in their fucking skull.” There’s a blanket of silence, all of the men knowing that Roman would absolutely carry through on this threat. A promise, really. 

Roman swallows, both from anger and something else he can’t pinpoint. “Solana tried to kill herself last night. What in the fuck about that presents a danger?” He doesn’t care enough to observe the reactions of that news. Doesn’t give a fuck. “The only person she’s a danger to is herself.”

Paul is the brave soul, or perhaps just stupidly and naively asking, “is she—okay?” 

“I said tried, didn’t I?” Roman snaps, forcing the pudgy man to recoil back in his seat. Roman clenches his jaw yet again, directing his statement to the next older man. “Rikishi.” He runs a hand over his face. “Meet with the Elders. Tell them about the assassination attempt. That it was Miller. Nothing about the plan. And leave it at that.”

Rikishi removes his glasses, sitting up at the table. “Roman, the Elders should know—” 

“The Elders know what I want them to know, and I want them to know that someone tried to kill my wife, and I’m handling it. That’s it.” Incapable of dealing with any more of this shit, Roman stands up from the chair, turning his back on the rest of his family. “Wise Man, let’s go.”

The obese man also shoots up from the chair, nearly tripping over his feet as he wordlessly follows Roman out of the room. 

Left alone is just Rikishi and his sons, the patriarch asking, “she tried to kill herself?”

Jimmy and Jey wear similar frowns, recalling the horrific truth they learned about their ‘Soso’ just hours prior. Jimmy shuts his eyes, unable to push away the memory of a hysterical Naomi throwing herself into his chest at the memory of finding Solana unconscious. 

“It’s….it’s a long story,” Jey answers in a low voice, wanting to be respectful. Aware or not, Solana’s story is hers to tell and hers only. 

Truthfully, he’s slightly surprised Roman even disclosed that part of the past 24 hours. 

“Yeah, there’s a lot of the story that Roman left out,” Solo suddenly finds his voice again, sharing directly to his father and brothers. “Like the fact that Roman took that bullet for her.”

“What?” Riksihi asks, shock stamped all over his voice. 

“I was right there. I saw the whole thing. He pushed her out the way.”

Jimmy shrugs. “He protected his wife. What’s wrong with that? We all would have done the same.”

Jey nods in agreement. Rikishi looks torn. 

Solo continues, pointing out. “But, Roman ain’t like us. He’s the Tribal Chief. He needs to act like it.”

“Careful, son,” Rikishi cautions, seemingly breaking from his conflicted state. “Your Uce sits at the head of the table for a reason. His ways may be unorthodox at times, but his reign won’t be questioned. We won’t disrespect him.”

Solo scoffs. “But you’ll disrespect the other Elders by lying for him?”

Jey jumps in, chiding, “man, what’s up with you tonight?”

Solo scoffs, pointing to himself. “Me? I’m not the one whose judgment is clouded. We all know if this was one of us and the roles were reversed with our wives, Roman would want them executed. He’s not thinking straight.” Solo looks around the room, noticing there’s a brief second of silence. “Ya’ll see it too. I’m just the only one who’s willing to say it. Roman is losing focus—”

“That’s enough, Solo.” Rikishi raises his voice, firmer, that of a father. “You’re out of line, son.” 

Solo looks around the room, halfway waiting for his older brothers to jump to his defense, to agree with what they have to know is the truth. But, when that doesn’t happen, he also shoots up from the table, rocking it in the process, leaving the room without another word.

Once gone, Jimmy motions with his thumb. “Man, he is tripping.” He shakes his head, asking his father, “you want us to talk to him?”

“No.” Rikishi answers almost immediately, sighing heavily, running his hand over his face. “I’ll do it….you all just….watch Roman.” He stands up, as Jey mutters something about having the hard job. “And sons….this conversation doesn’t leave this room, understood?” Jimmy and Jey look slightly confused and taken back, Rikishi explaining, “I know you’re both closer with Roman. But, he’s just your cousin. Solo is your brother. He’s definitely tripping, but he’s still your family too, and there’s nothing more important than brotherhood, alright?”

________

Roman awakens with a heavy sigh that’s followed by his eyes closing. 

His sleep has been shit the past few days, and it’s been solely because his bed is cold and empty on the other side. Because he’s sleeping alone, something he once cherished but now can barely tolerate. He didn’t realize just how much he enjoyed Solana’s soft body pressed up against him, the satisfaction he felt waking up to her every morning.

Now, he just awakens to silence or the sound of Dulce whimpering or barking. 

Dulce’s whimpers on the side of the bed remind him of the fact that she’s still sleeping in his room. In their room. On Solana’s side.

Her empty side.

Moving the blankets off, Roman swings his big body over the side of the bed and walks over to motion for her to follow him. “Come on.”

He knows she has to empty her bladder, but he’s grateful for a reason to leave the space that reeks of Solana, a constant reminder of her absence. 

It’s….an experience, to say the least. 

Picking her up, he carries her down the steps, through the house, and out the back sliding door by the kitchen. Roman places her in the grass, letting her do her business as he goes to sit down on the edge of one of the chaise lounge.

He closes his eyes.

Love. 

Suck a weird fucking thing. Something he’s never really understood. 

Or felt. 

Not….not in this aspect at least. 

He’s always been confounded by the emotion that makes people act so outside of their character, clouds their judgment, and seizes their brain in crippling ways. He never saw the appeal in it. Never wanted it.

And then came Solana. 

If someone had told him four months ago that he’d not only be married to a woman he actually cares about let alone would end up loving, he’d probably knock them flat on their ass. Harshly criticize their stupidity at the very least. 

Falling in love with Solana was never the plan. He never wanted this for himself. He just needed to marry to create an official heir. And that was it. She would do her thing, taking care of the kid and whatnot. And he would still do him, continuing his life of commitment free sexual relations with whoever was his flavor of the week. Or day. 

And yet all of that, just the thought of it, sours his expression. 

He doesn’t want anyone other than Solana. Doesn’t desire to be intimate with anyone other than her. It’s her he wants to wake up to every morning, her he wants to make happy. He just wants her. Nobody else.

Because he loves her.

And it’s a shocking, life changing realization he finally stumbled into while sitting at her hospital bed. An epiphany he’s certain was heavily transitioned from subconscious to conscious given the events that transpired that night.

She almost died, was almost shot, and there’s not a fucking part of him would do anything differently. He’d take that bullet and any other bullet for her anytime. 

Because he loves her.

He stood between her and her piece of shit father, not thinking twice about it, only knowing that decision would forever negatively change her life. Thinking how he promised her he would never let her end up in that position. 

Because he loves her. 

And he sat at her hospital bed, holding her hand, pouring his heart out to her because the second those infamous words left Jey’s mouth, his world nearly collapsed. He couldn’t think straight as he rushed to the hospital, uncaring and uninterested in anything except being with her, holding her, catering to her. Whatever she needed. He just needs her to be okay. 

Because he loves her.

Roman’s head tilts back, the weight of all this lying on his chest. 

He can’t deny it. Can’t deny he loves her. Not to himself, at least. He just doesn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

There’s…..there’s no room for love in his life. No place for it. Love is weakness, and Roman has never and can never be weak. He’s the Tribal Chief. The Head of the Table. The leader of the Bloodline and Cosa Nostra. There is no space for weakness.

Or love. 

And yet….it’s there.

It’s there for her. 

Dulce walking over to the chaise lounge that Roman realizes is usually the one she sits on when she’s writing brings him back to the sadness that creeps in at her absence. Dulce must feel the same as she lays down, ears also down, whimpering.

Roman beckons her over, watching as she slowly walks over to his feet, ears still down as he picks her up and places her on his lap. It’s something not even a week ago he would probably do. But, that was then, and this is now. 

And now, he almost feels a sense of duty to Solana’s puppy. 

Because it’s this same puppy, he’s learned, that barked nonstop at Bayley and Naomi, running over to Solana and starting to cry, effectively alerting them that something was wrong.

Very wrong.

With an uncharacteristic level of emotion, Roman gently strokes the top of her head. “You saved her life….” For his own mental sanity, Roman chooses not to think about what the alternative could have been. What his reality would be if this small, five pound animal didn’t have such a close, protective bond to her human. “Thank you.”

Dulce whimpers in response, laying her body on his lap, staring at the empty pool chair. 

Roman sighs, eyes shutting again. 

The emotion is undeniable as he acknowledges in a soft voice. “I miss her too..”

This shit is much harder than he realized. 

________

Roman: How are you doing? 

Solana glances at her lock screen at hearing the familiar, personalized notification sound. The sound she set specifically for texts from her husband. Her smile is already set on her face but settles into something deeper as another message slides in.

Roman: Do you need me to come home?

Placing the pencil down on the nearest surface, she swaps out her task at hand for a brief break to respond to the question she anticipated would be proposed at some point in the day. 

Just not this soon, perhaps.

Solana wipes one hand on her shorts, the other unlocking her phone to open his thread. Preparing to reply, her gaze shifts over to her sweet baby boy, sleeping peacefully in his infant pillow. Low, relaxing music plays from her Alexa on the nightstand, lulling and keeping him in his slumber. Similarly, Dulce lays peacefully in her bed on Solana’s side of the bed, curled into a little ball.

The smile somehow grows deeper.

Solana: I’m okay. You don’t need to come home, really.

Solana quickly snaps a photo of the baby and includes it with her next message.

Solana: We’re good. :) 

Solana brings her finger to gently caress her son’s cheek. He has such a calm disposition about him. Even at 6 weeks. She can just see he’s taken on more of her demeanor than his dad’s. Granted, she also noticed the same thing about her oldest twin, only for her to gradually be morphing into the female version of her father.

Roman hearting the photo captures her attention once again followed by his reply, which seems to be the result of long distance mind reading.

Roman: He’s been a lot easier than the girls were. But, time will tell. 

Roman: Where are they?

She giggles, imagining his elongated sigh as he considers what could be in store for them once their son starts to get bigger and older. Can move around and get into things with his sisters. It’s more likely than not bound to happen.

Solana: In their playrooms. They’ve been surprisingly quiet too….for now. Lol

Solana knows her girls well enough to know silence with them, mostly when they’re together, isn’t usually long lived. The quieter of the two is very much like Solana, able to stay and keep to herself just fine without making much or any noise. Her sister, however, older by 6 minutes exactly, is not.

She is rambunctious and loud and loves to be moving. And when they’re together, that adventurous nature rubs off on Solana’s twin, usually resulting in them getting into something. More often than not.

Roman: I talked to them last night. Reminded them it's important they listen and help you out.

This is something she already knew, having overheard as he put them to bed while she catered to their newborn. He’s done that a lot since the birth of their son. Really taken over as much as he can with helping the girls, when it’s something he can do. And if he can’t do it, like them wanting to do art with her or bake something, usually the youngest vs the oldest, he’s on baby duty. 

Whether he realizes it or not, he truly is great at being a dad. Though something tells her, always has, that even three kids deep, he struggles with that insecurity at not being good at it.

Not being good enough.

Roman: I still think it was too early for me to come back to work and leave you alone with everything.

And there it is. What Solana already knew he was thinking but is happy to see him finally admit. Roman’s been working from home the past six weeks, since the birth of their son. And while she’s appreciated having him home, helping her out with managing their growing family, it was time for him to return back to the ‘office.’ 

She knows he worries about her, worries about her feeling overwhelmed, but she’s been good the past few years with being open with him. That hasn’t and won’t change. 

Solana: You were going to have to go back eventually, Ro. I’m okay, really. The girls really don’t cause me any issues. And he’s easy.

Solana: Outside of when he’s groping and squeezing the mess out of my breast. 😅

Breastfeeding has never been much of an issue for Solana. And, while it was definitely a bit of a challenge breastfeeding twins, there was never a pressing enough problem for her to not consider doing the same for her third child.

Granted, unlike the girls who, at most, felt around her breast while getting their fill, her son is more handsy. His little palms often slapping, squeezing and even scratching with his nails she makes sure to try to keep cut low. 

She chuckles, thinking about how this could very much be another small sign she’s in store for yet another energetic child. It lines up though. Even when he’s sleepy, little scowl on his face, she sees Roman. In all of the children, really. But with him, the way his little lips dip and light eyebrows cave into a look of unmistakable disapproval, usually when she takes too long to pick him up or feed him, that’s all Roman.

Roman: Smart kid. 

She giggles, sending out a reply that’s a result of years of growing more comfortable with teetering the lines of risque topics and innuendos.

Solana: Your kid, clearly. 😅

Roman: Damn straight.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she keeps the conversation going with another risky text. 

Solana: Just two more weeks until I’m….cleared. 

Over the years, and as she’s continued to heal, Solana has found herself with a sexual appetite that’s nowhere near her husband’s nor most women her age, but it’s there. Coming and going. Ebbing and flowing. And lately, it’s been on the flowing side.

Roman: We should wait longer. 

Roman: I’m not taking any risks.

She sighs at his reply that’s not entirely unsurprising. He absolutely would want to go past the recommended 8 weeks that she was told by her doctor that they would need to wait to resume intimacy. An extended period of time than the usual 6 weeks due to the second degree tear she sustained while birthing her third child. A thing that can happen during childbirth and wasn’t anything too serious, but something she knows her husband sees as just that.

Thus him wanting to not ‘take any risks.’ 

Solana: I understand.

Understanding is different from agreeing, but she won’t push him on it. 

Solana: Besides, don’t want to risk another baby.

Solana: Just yet anyway….

Having this conversation over text probably isn’t the way to go, but she has no doubt he’ll talk with her about it more in person when he comes home tonight, after all three kids are down for bed.

That doesn’t mean they can’t start it now, at least, though.

Roman: Seriously? You really want another baby?

Roman: He isn’t even a year yet.

Roman: You forget I’m 10 years older than you. I’m getting too old for all these kids, Solana.

It’s true they just welcomed their baby boy not even two months ago. And Roman is aging. He’s older, the gray in his beard spreading by the day, but he’s still just as active and fit into his forties as he was when they met years prior. Thus, he’s exaggerating. 

Solana: No, you’re not.

Solana: And that wasn’t a no…..

His reply comes in a bit quicker than she was anticipating. 

Roman: It wasn’t. 

She smiles. Solana has learned her husband well over the years. Knows him well enough to know that if there wasn’t a part of him also interested in maybe having another child, he would be clear about his standpoint. He would express his disagreement. 

So his comment would suggest he’s not team no. That he’s open, and his following texts confirm as such.

Roman: But, this would be it. Four is more than enough.

She smiles, knowing that this definitely will still be discussed in person tonight but happy that he’s unwilling to deny himself. Solana’s love for him has only deepened since seeing him step into the role of fatherhood. 

She just wishes she could get him to see how good he is at this. The girls wouldn’t adore him as much as they do if he was bad at it, per se.

But, he’s not.

If only he could see it. 

Solana: Unless we get another set of twins….😅

Roman: Jesus Christ 

Solana giggles, imagining the look he must have on his face. Probably similar to when they found out about the girls. She wasn’t entirely surprised given how strongly twins run on his side of the family.

But, he most certainly was.

A quiet knock pulls her from the conversation as she lays her eyes on the twins who are waiting by the door with hesitant expressions. She waves them over, placing her finger over her mouth to remind them to be quiet to avoid waking up the still sleeping baby.

They tip toe over to her, moving to her side of the bed, leaning over and looking at him. The oldest is the one to ask, whispering, “why does he sleep so much, mama?”

Solana chuckles. “That’s what babies do. They need a lot of sleep to grow big and strong.”

The quieter of the two of them deviates from her usual silence to predict, “he’s gonna be big and strong like papa.”

The oldest, however, doesn’t hesitate to reiterate. “I’m still gonna be the tribal chief though.”

Solana has such a torn reaction she does well at hiding. As much as she loves how much her technically first born admires Roman and wants to be just like him, she also has no idea just what it is that Roman really does. The true weight that comes with wearing the Ula Fala. 

Or the fact that by his family’s laws and traditions, their son is the true heir to the Bloodline. Granted, she also suspects it’s those same laws and traditions Roman will fight tooth and nail to change should their daughter, even after knowing the truth about the Bloodline, still want to pursue taking his place when the time comes for him to step down.

Roman would do anything to give her just as much a chance to the keys to the kingdom as her brother.

But, that’s so far down the line, and Solana doesn’t like thinking about it too much. She just wants to enjoy her children as they are now, innocent and oblivious.

Ms. Quiet stays on her talking streak, asking quietly, “can we still go to aunt Bayley’s house today?”

Solana nods. She briefly forgot about that, but it’s still very much doable. “Of course.” 

The girls gasp and look at each other, Solana already knowing another request is about to follow. Roman’s little twin ends up being the one to ask, “mama, can we go see papa at his office before?”

She shouldn’t be surprised. One of their favorite things to do is stop by and see Roman while he’s at work. Something she hasn’t done in some time, not since the birth of her son and even then, it had been a few months.

Solana starts to text and ask him if he’s busy, but one look at the happiness on the girls’ faces at being able to see their dad, and she knows she doesn’t need to.

She knows there’s no way on God’s green earth that he would turn them away, even if he stopped or canceled a meeting just to interact with them.

That’s just the kind of father he is.

His kids come first. 

With excitement bubbling in her stomach at seeing her husband, Solana takes a glance at her son, smile growing as he stirs, clearly just as ready to see daddy. 

She then looks back at her just excited girls, sharing, “time to go see papa.”

“Time to get up.”

Solana has to blink a couple of times to reorient herself, almost entirely due to the shocking nature of her dream. A dream she’s now had every night since being admitted to the hospital, glimpses, and what feels like peeks, into the future.

Her future.

But, at the same time, it’s a distant thing that seems unattainable and unrealistic given where she is now. On a legally mandated psychiatric hold after attempting to die by suicide.

“You up, sweetie?”

Solana nods and sits up in the bed, accepting the water and pills in the small medicine bowl. She doesn’t hesitate to swallow all three, offering a small smile to the nurse who’s been assigned to her, making sure she takes her medication as prescribed.

The nurse, Carol, she thinks, reminds, “breakfast starts in twenty.”

Solana nods, pushing back some of her hair, waiting for the older woman to leave before she lays back down on the bed. 

She shuts her eyes. 

The past few days have been…..an experience. An emotional ride unlike any she’s been on in years. The last time she can recall struggling and feeling as heavy as she was was when she woke up from her coma and had it confirmed that her mother was dead. Something she knew but held onto the invisible string of hope that Nina somehow survived. 

Even though Solana still recalls the moment she heard and saw her mother take her last breath. 

It’s a weight that’s lessened tremendously over the past couple of days, since she woke up yet a second time, less irrational, not as hysterical. Part of her reaction was most definitely due to still feeling suicidal, still believing that being dead would be better for everyone. But her reaction was exacerbated by the fact that two male nurses moved to restrain her as she tried to move from the hospital bed. Having male hands on her like that was triggering and made her emotions that much more difficult to manage in an already tense situation.

But the second time she awoke, Solana saw nothing but women. Truth be told, she’s only had women on her care team since being admitted. It’s made such a big difference. 

All of it has.

Being in this space, so separated from the outside world. It’s been both difficult and welcomed. A nice escape from a recently draining reality but also a heavy separation that she’s brought up a couple times now in her individual therapy sessions with her therapist, Gail.

That is the difficulty in being separated from Roman. It’s a dichotomy. As much as she wants to see and talk to him, she wants to hide and avoid him. She wants to explain yet also never have to discuss it again. An avoidance behavior that is typical for survivors of suicide attempts, another thing she’s learned in therapy thus far. 

But more than anything, Solana just wants to talk to him. She remembers from when she was admitted as a teen following her first attempt that communication is typically cut off from the outside. She just didn’t realize it would be the same protocol as an adult. 

Something intended to avoid patients from being re-triggered. She gets that, but it doesn't make her miss him any less. 

This is the first time they’ve been separated from one another since before the wedding, and it’s not a fun experience. 

But yet….

It’s not a horrible experience either.

No one wants to be in the hospital. And no one definitely wants to be in the hospital on a legal hold because they’ve been deemed a danger to themselves and thus needs 24/7 supervision.

That part sucks, but what hasn’t sucked for Solana is being able to be as honest and vulnerable as she needs to be. To cry and fully acknowledge the extent of her feelings, to be as raw as she’s been in her therapy sessions thus far with Gail. The woman whose kind smile, non-judgemental and self-disclosure of also being violated has created such a safe space for her. 

Solana knew, knows, that she can talk to Roman. That he’s made it clear there’s nothing she can’t discuss with him. But, there’s something about speaking to another woman, someone who’s also sadly been through something similar that’s….that’s healing, almost. 

Knowing Carol will be back for another reminder about breakfast, Solana pulls from her thoughts and leaves her bed to start her day.

Everything in the hospital is planned, time cut out for everything from meds, breakfast, group therapy, individual therapy and more. There’s only so much time in the day that’s reserved as ‘free time,’ though being hospitalized doesn’t present a ton of options for one to choose from during said ‘free time.’

However, Solana has always been able to occupy herself and keep herself busy, and this is no different. 

Later that day, she’s in one of the common areas, utilizing her free time with one of her favorite coping mechanisms. One she’s recently revisited and brought back to lean on. Pencil in hand, Solana uses the sketchbook she was given by Gail. No particular drawing in mind, it’s not missed on her how the bare bones outline of the face she’s drawing has very similar features to that of her husband.

“Hey.”

Solana lifts her head from the page, landing on two women who she’s seen in passing and up close in her group therapy. Both are brunette with similar heights yet different builds. The shorter one looks like she keeps herself in the gym, slender muscles visible even with the hospital provided clothing they all wear. The other is a few inches taller and curvier, her breast stretched against the material. The shorter one is the one who spoke. One looks amenable, the other does not. The one who spoke is, unfortunately, not the one with the friendly expression.

Solana swallows, gaze somewhat traveling as she sees one of the orderlies already watching the interaction. Closely. He’s a big man whose size looks disproportionate to the job he holds here, and she’s noticed him watching her a couple of times. Yet, it’s never been a predatory gaze. Almost…..protective.

“Solana, right?” She nods as the two women plop on the other sofa adjacent to the one Solana sits on. “I’m AJ, and this is Candice.” She gestures to the other woman with her thumb, the brunette waving and smiling almost giddily. Before Solana can say anything else, AJ is leaned over, asking in a low voice. “You’re Roman’s wife, right?”

Solana tenses. For some reason, that rubs her the wrong way, sends an unfamiliar chill up her spine. Something in her tells her to lie, but it’s no use in denying the obvious. “Yes.”

AJ snorts and sits back, arm lazily lounged up on the top of the sofa. “Well, I was gonna ask you how’d you end up here, but I guess that’s an obvious answer.” AJ laughs darkly, making her comment to Candice but directing it towards Solana. “I’d try to off myself too if I had to be married to that son of a bitch.”

Clearly, Solana has not been in a good place recently, hence her current situation. Her emotions have been all over the place. That’s why she chalks up her next actions to the fact that she’s still coming down from her relapse. 

Closing up the sketchpad, Solana sits up and doesn't stutter as she states clearly and concisely to AJ, “you have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, so why don’t you just shut up and leave me alone?” 

Candice's shock matches that of Solana’s, but the former doesn’t back down. Doesn’t suddenly regret her statement. Maybe it’s adrenaline. Maybe it’s the fact that Solana feels the anger stirring inside her at even the insinuation that Roman could ever be the cause of her trying to end her life.

When he’s the one that saved it. 

AJ, however, doesn’t look shocked. She looks pissed off.

And then she’s smiling. 

“Oh, sweetie, you have no idea who you’re messing with.” AJ starts to stand up, Candice following suit though she looks more confused and dumbfounded than anything. Like she’s there but not here. “Your psychopath husband isn’t here to save you—”

“You lay one hand on her, and I’ll snap your fucking neck like a twig.”

Three sets of eyes land on the figure who’s way too big for them to have not heard his footsteps, but that’s exactly what’s happened. The orderly who Solana has noticed watching her since her admission is standing almost protectively beside where she still sits on the sofa. His gaze and voice are hard as steel, focused on AJ and Candice. “I suggest you leave. Now. And stay the hell away from her.”

Solana looks between this man who, for some reason, is defending her and AJ, who still looks more amused than anything. She scoffs. “Of course.” Frowning, Solana is still stuck on the fact that this orderly who’s working in a psychiatric wing for women who’ve tried to kill themselves just threatened to kill another woman when AJ simply turns to walk away, Candice hot on her heel.

And as soon as they're out of the vicinity, the man steps back, as if wanting to grant Solana space. He then exclaims, further deepening her shock, “you’ll be safe here, Mrs. Reigns. You have my word.” 

Mrs. Reigns…..

Solana is suddenly taken back to her birthday trip, the way she was addressed by the pilots, the chef, and anyone else that Roman hired to assist them on their vacation. And that’s when it hits her.

“Bloodline…..” It makes so much sense. Why he’s always seemed to be around when she’s not in her room, the way he’s watched her almost nonstop since she arrived, the way he intervened just now. “You’re Bloodline.”

“Dave.” He offers a small, respectful smile that’s all the answer she needs. “But everyone calls me by my last name, Bautista.”

________

“Hey.”

It’s interesting how a simple word can bring on such a reaction.

Just yesterday, the same word was said to her and followed up with a not terrible but strange interaction.

She can only pray this time around is different. 

Solana takes a second to pause and shut her eyes before she looks up from her inner arm where she works on the assignment given in her first group therapy session.

Her eyes land on three women, all familiar faces because they’re all in her group. However, she’s never directly spoken to them prior to now.

Solana swallows and offers a small smile. “Hi….” 

Solana studies all of them, different in skintones, builds, hair colors and even facial expressions. The one who spoke first pushes her raven hair over shoulder and clears her throat, asking, “is it—is it true that your husband had the orderlies and security replaced with Bloodline members?”

The question takes her back, Solana unsure of how to respond, not because she doesn’t know the answer. She does. Baustista indirectly confirming that he was sent by her husband to watch over her has made Solana realize that it’s not just him who she catches watching her whenever she’s not in her room. It’s other men as well. Big, strong, much too in shape for a job like this.

The only logical thing that makes sense to her is that Roman is, once again, looking out for her. As he always does. 

“That’s pretty fucking cool. If so.” Another one comments, her brunette pulled to the side of her neck as she sits down on the sofa opposite Solana. “It was even better seeing AJ put in her place.”

Solana swallows, quite unsure just how to respond to that. “I—I don’t want to cause any problems.”

The first woman scoffs, also sitting down next to the other lady. “You might not, but AJ does. I honestly don’t know why they don’t put her in the other wing with Victoria.”

“The other wing?”

The third woman breaks her silence, explaining, her voice quiet and typical for her equally unassuming demeanor. “There’s two psychiatric wings here. The one we’re in and another for more….severe cases.”

“I.e. the really crazy bitches.”

“Melina!” The woman with brunette hair shakes her head, smiling a little as she formally introduces everyone. “I’m Mickey. This is Melina, and that’s Cameron, but we call her Cam.”

For some reasons, the names fit all of them, Solana moving to the side as Cam gestures to the space next to her and takes an almost apprehensive seat. 

“Solana—”

“Oh, everyone knows who you are, girl.” Mickey snickers, leaning back into the sofa and crossing her legs over one another. “You might just be my new favorite person.”

Solana frowns, completely lost at this seemingly random title. “I don’t—-I don’t understand.”

“AJ thinks she runs shit around here. Her and that dumbass friend of hers, Candice Michelle.” Melina explains, shaking her head. “AJ definitely should be in the other ward with Victoria. She’s the psychiatrist that runs it. Doesn’t put up with shit. Almost polar opposite of Dr. Stratus.”

Solana doesn’t know much beyond what’s being said, but something tells her she’s most definitely in the better of two places. Even if just getting to have Dr. Stratus manages her meds. She really likes her. 

However, this conversation brings up a very valid question that Solana doesn’t exactly know how to word very well but finds it in her to ask. “So you all….you’ve been here before?” 

It’s obvious, given the fact that they’re all so familiar with each other and dynamics. Same with this AJ and Candice person, but Solana doesn’t want to assume.

There’s a silence that falls over the women, and Solana instantly feels bad, feels silly for not recognizing how invasive that question is. However, before she can apologize, Cam is the one to speak up.

Shrugging, her smile is tight and undeniably sad as she says so simply, “demons are hard to kill.”

And just like that, Solana has never related to something more.

Feeling overcome with an almost duty to share, her eyes drop to her arms, the intricate outlines of butterflies camouflaging the scars that will never fully go away. “I get that……I really do.”

Looking up, Solana feels the set of understanding gazes on her, instantly knowing without any of them needing to share specifics that they just get it. They understand the specific and tragic ways one can end up in a place like this, oftentimes due to demons beyond their slaughtering capabilities. 

Mickey clears her throat, gesturing to Solana’s arm. “You’re really good.”

She glances down at her still unfinished art, a small smile falling on her face. “Thank you.” An idea crosses her mind as she notices each of them attempted to follow through on the assignment as well but clearly struggled. “I can—I can help, if you want?” 

Cam gasps, obviously excited by the idea of it. “Really?”

Solana’s smile grows as she explains, “I—I love art.”

Mickey squeals almost and pulls out a black sharpie from her bra, shrugging with a playful smile. 

“We were kinda hoping you said that.”

________

“You’re quiet today.” Gail’s assessment continues as she asks in a gentle voice, “are you nervous?”

Nervous is an understatement. Solana fidgets on the sofa, running her hands down her sweats. “I—I haven’t seen or spoken to him since….you know.”

Gail presses her lips together, nodding. “You don’t know what to expect.”

Solana nods, eyes starting to water. “I don’t—I don’t want him to be upset with me.” 

It’s officially been a week since Solana has been admitted into the psychiatric ward. An interesting experience, to say the least. She’s made enemies, made ‘friends’, worked through and started to process with a professional so much of her trauma, and more. And while her longing for seeing and speaking to her husband has only continued to grow by the day. The day finally being here where she’s allowed a visitor, where he will come to see her this evening feels almost….it feels too soon.

She’s just so nervous, unsure of what that reunion is going to look like. 

Gail sees the thoughts brewing in her client’s head as she asks in an attempt to redirect, “are you responsible for his emotions?”

“No, but….but I—” When she struggles to get out a coherent response, Gail presents a thought provoking question.

“Solana, based upon what you know about Roman, what’s more likely? That he’ll be upset with you or that he’ll just be happy that you’re alive?”

It’s such a good question, one that has the emotion bubbling in the back of her throat, emotion she shows as silent tears begin to fall. “I—I want him to be happy, but…..”

“You’re still struggling with feeling like a burden to him….” It’s an assessment by her therapist that is wholly correct, but one Solana can’t verbally comment on, only offering her agreement with a silent head nod. “Do you remember the exercise we did a couple of sessions ago about faulty thinking? About the ways your trauma influences your thinking.” 

Solana reflects back on that session, so heavy yet so helpful. It provided her such insight on just how deeply her experiences have painted her view of so much. Of everything, really. Including how she so lowly views herself sometimes. 

“I want you to think about that and compare it to the thoughts that you’re having now……where are they coming from?”

Solana closes her eyes and blows out a breath. “My…my fear.”

“And if your fear was a living, breathing entity sitting opposite beside you right now, how would you combat it? Think about the cognitive challenging we discussed.”

Keeping her eyes shut, Solana travels back to that session, utilizing the skills and tips and knowledge she’s learned since her admission.

She takes an ‘efficient breath’, as Gail calls them. “I’d tell my fear that….that you don’t get to control me anymore.���

Gail smiles softly, gently encouraging the young woman to continue. “What else?”

Silent tears continue to fall, but Solana’s voice remains firm and unwavering. “And that….that Roman cares about me and just wants me to be okay and….and get better.”

Gail hasn’t felt so proud and pleased with a client’s response to the empty chair exercise in quite a while. “Exactly.” She sits back in her own chair, jotting down some notes. “Can I ask what you’re feeling right now?”

Solana finally opens her eyes and wipes at her eyes, scoffing quietly. “A…a little better, actually.” She motions to her chest. “It doesn’t….it doesn’t feel as heavy.”

“Good.” Gail makes note of this and starts to ask a follow up processing question when Solana’s soft voice beats her to it.

“Can…..can I talk about something with you?”

Gail’s grin is warm and welcoming as she offers genuine assurance. “Solana, there’s nothing we can’t discuss here.” She’s pleased to see Solana’s smile grow at this reassurance. “What would you like to talk about?”

Feeling on the spot all of a sudden, despite being the one who initiated the conversation, Solana does her best to manage and push through her anxiety. “I—I’ve been….I’ve been having dreams since I got here.”

Gail is mindful of her expression as she asks in a soft voice, “dreams or…..”

Sensing what she’s asking, Solana quickly shakes her head. “No. Not those. Not nightmares. They….they really are dreams. Good dreams, I—I think.”

Studying her, Gail assesses. “You seem unsure.” 

Deciding to bite the bullet, Solana shares in a low voice, “they’re dreams of me in the future…..as….as a mother.”

Gail nods. “I see.” She makes note of one of Solana’s nonverbals. “You’re smiling right now.”

Sniffling, Solana continues to share and exhibit so much vulnerability, most of which is solely because of how safe and non-judged Gail has made her feel. “In the dreams, we have three kids. Twin girls and a baby boy.” She wipes at her nose and swallows deeply. “I—I want to be a mom someday, but I don’t….I don’t want to be a bad mom.”

If these dreams have shown her anything, it’s that she wants more than anything to be a positive influence in her future child, or children's, lives. She doesn’t want to cause them even a fraction of the parental trauma she’s experienced. 

And deep down, Solana knows that she’s absolutely nothing like her father.

But, she knows she’s very much been deeply impacted by her fathers’ abuse. By all of her trauma. And the last thing she wants is for any of that to negatively influence her children. 

“Solana, what makes you think you could ever be a bad mother?” She shrugs, shutting down a bit. Gail sighs lowly, offering words of affirmation and support. “You are not a bad person. You are not a broken person. Not a damaged person. Just a person who’s been dealt some not so  great cards, but you’re here, working on these things. Working on becoming a healthier version of yourself.” Gail chuckles, pointing out, “that doesn’t sound like a bad future mother to me.”

Really sitting on the words of encouragement and doing her best to not let the self-doubt creep in, Solana asks in a voice barely above a whisper, “do you….do you really think I could be a good mother?”

Gail’s response is almost immediate, not a thought to be had as she answers honestly, “Solana, I think you could be a damn good mother.” 

Solana laughs, emotion seeping in as she nods, utterly grateful for such kind words. “Thank….thank you. That….that means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” Gail would like to process this more, maybe get into some additional trauma work, but there’s another important thing on her agenda for this session. “Solana, as you know, your hold will be up exactly one week from now, meaning you’ll be officially discharged and allowed to return home.”

Solana eyes lighten up at that, an expected reaction as Gail gently slides into a deeper conversation pertaining to her release. “But, there’s something I would like to speak to you about.”

________

Roman doesn’t think twice as he walks into the room that’s suspiciously quiet to be located in a hospital, decorated just as one would expect a therapist’s office to look. He only briefly takes a look around before plopping his big body down on the sofa. 

He didn’t even pay any attention to the fact that Gail was attempting to extend an olive branch, offering a handshake that he so rudely ignored, clearly ready to get this over with.

She keeps her togetherness, offering a verbal introduction. “Thank you for com—”

“This has to do with Solana, right?”

Gail makes a face, pressing her lips together as she chuckles quietly. “Of course.”

“Then get to it.” Roman is quick with the demands, asking, “how is she doing?”

Gail offers a tight smile. “I’m Gail Kim, the therapist on staff who’s been handling Solana’s individual therapy sessions.”

“Did I ask you who you were?” His stare is cold and uninterested. “I asked you how she’s doing.”

Sighing, Gail refers to the tablet on her lap, opening up the notes she’s happy that she prepared ahead of time. This is going exactly as she predicted it would. “Your wife is no longer endorsing suicidal ideation which means she’s denying any thoughts and plans to take her life, which is significant progress considering it’s only been a week—”

There’s a hint of hopefulness in both his expression and voice as he asks, “so, she’s ready to come home?”

Gail hesitates. “Not exactly.”

The previous hopefulness melts into something cold and harsh. Roman is visibly and understandably irritated. “You just said she’s not suicidal anymore.”

“Yes, but it’s not that simple. Solana is….she’s an interesting case. Her trauma history is significant. Though she seems to be on the way to stabilization, there’s still a lot of work that needs to be done. She needs continued professional help.”

“Isn’t that why she’s here with you?” His tone is cruel and condescending. “If you’re too fucking incompetent to help her, let me take her home, so I can.”

Gail bites the inside of her cheek. If this was anyone else, she would set them straight on the importance of mutual respect. But, this isn’t just anyone. This is Roman Reigns, and she’s well aware of the fact that one wrong statement or sign of disrespect could very well end her life, so she does her best to remain calm and professional. And she tries an alternative approach. 

“You know, one of the exercises she did in an individual session asks about what safe spaces she has, sources of support and whatnot. And you know what she put down for almost every answer?” Gail gives a small, closed mouth smile. “You.” Well trained in reading nonverbals, she picks up on the brief giveaway sign of emotion that flashes in Roman’s eyes at this. “She put down that you are her number one reason for wanting to live.” 

There’s a good minute of silence before Roman asks in an uncharacteristically low voice. “So why did she do it?”

Gail's smile shifts into a solemn frown. “I’ll leave that discussion to the two of you. She’s expressed wanting to talk with you about that directly.”

“I’m asking you.”

Gail leans back in her chair and goes a different route. “It’s okay to be upset with her. To be angry at her. To be angry at and blame yourself.” Gail catches just a glimpse of surprise in his eyes at the last part. “To actually feel your feelings.”

Roman, however, is uninterested in any of this. Offended even. “Why the hell would I be angry at her?”

“Why wouldn’t you be? She tried to leave you. That’s essentially what suicide is. Escapism. It provides the patient with the peace they’re looking for but leaves the loved ones left behind with a world of questions and emotions.” She explains, mindful of her tone and voice. “Two truths can exist in the same universe. You can be happy she wasn’t successful and still angry at her for trying in the first place.”

Roman is quiet for a good two minutes, Gail wondering if she should transition to another topic when he breaks said silence in that same low voice. 

“I don’t understand why she didn’t call me. I told her to tell me if…..if those thoughts ever returned.”

“But she didn’t…..” Gail’s voice softens as she adds, almost empathetically. “I think you’ll find talking with her will give you some of the answers you’re looking for. But, they truly should come from her.”

Roman won’t push. He wants to, but won’t. If this is something Solana wants to discuss with him herself, he’ll respect that. So long as it’s not triggering to her, which it seems, surprisingly, it’s not. 

Gail clears her throat and transitions to the next section. “Dr. Stratus started her on a medication regimen of Sertraline, 50mg and Wellbutrin, 100mg, once a day in the morning as well as Hydroxyzine, PRN, which means as needed. The Sertraline and Wellbutrin are antidepressants, and Hydroxyzine can be taken when she starts to feel overwhelmed or triggered. So far, she’s responding well, though it typically takes 4 to 6 weeks for patients to truly notice the full benefits.” 

Roman nods, as Gina or whatever her name is, continues to explain what’s otherwise obvious. 

“We’ve been administering her medication and given how she attempted to take her life, Dr. Stratus and I strongly advise that you or someone else take over that administration upon her discharge—”

“Do you honestly think I’m stupid enough to allow her to have unmonitored access to pills again?” Roman doesn’t even try, not that he was before, to hide his frustration and irritation. She’s acting like he’s stupid. His degrees may be in business, but one doesn’t need to have a degree in behavioral health to know thatyou don’t give a formerly suicidal person free access to the same method they used to take their life. 

Gail, however, decides to not feed into it. “You know, anger is sometimes just anger. Just people mad as hell. But sometimes….sometimes it’s what we call a blanket emotion, meaning there are other feelings hiding beneath it, being presented as anger.”

Roma sits forward. “Just what the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

“Nothing at all, Mr. Reigns.” A small smile falls on her face, and that only pisses him off even more. Is this bitch trying to patronize him or something? “But, you should know that we offer support for spouses and loved ones like yourself who are supporting��”

“The only thing I need for you to do is to help my wife, so I can get her the hell out of this place and home where she belongs.”

Gail takes a deep breath. 

It was worth a try. 

“I want to show you something.” She stands up from her chair, moving to her desk as she pulls out a key to unlock the drawer. “Solana signed a full release authorizing us to share all details regarding her care with you. But, there are some things she’s explicitly expressed you not being okay with knowing and seeing. This is not one of them. And I think you would find it interesting….”

If not for the fact that the therapist already made it clear that safety concerns and suicidality are exceptions to confidentiality, Roman would be concerned, wondering just what exactly Solana doesn’t want him to know.

But something tells him she’s perhaps opened up in therapy about specifics regarding her trauma more than she has with him, and if that’s the case, his only hope is that this woman knows what she’s doing and doesn’t trigger Solana further.

She walks back over, handing him a set of sheets. Roman takes them, immediately noticing the handwriting. 

Solana’s handwriting. 

He gets to reading the bolded question that each has answers of varying length.

Who is your safe person? What makes this person safe?

My husband. He’s the first man in my life to not hurt me. The first man I’ve ever trusted.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you trust this person with 1 being none and 10 being absolute trust?

 10

How does this person make you feel safe?

He’s patient with me and listens to me and makes me feel beautiful.

How does this person serve as a member of your support system?

He listens to me and always checks on me. 

How long have you experienced thoughts/urges/practices of self-harming behavior including suicidal ideation and/or attempts?

The first time I felt like I didn't want to be alive anymore was when I was ten. I woke up from my coma and realized my mother was dead. I just wanted to be with her. But it’s my brother constantly telling me I should kill myself after my mom’s murder that made me seriously think about doing it. 

He would tell me that it should have been me who died, and I should just kill myself because no one wanted me.

And I started to believe him. 

It’s been on and off since then.

Has there been a point in time where you have not had these thoughts/urges?

Yes. For the past four months. 

If you answered yes to the previous question, what caused or contributed to the cessation of these thoughts/urges?

I met my husband. I had real friends for the first time. I found myself having a real family for the first time in a long time. 

I was happy.

Prior to this gap, when was the last time you experienced any of these thoughts? What triggered them?

The day of my wedding. This was before I got to know my husband. I was scared he was going to beat me like my dad and brother.

What happened to re-trigger you? If uncomfortable sharing, list the emotions you felt during this episode. 

Sadness. Anger. Confusion.

Do you remember what thoughts you were experiencing before the suicidal and self-harming ideation returned? What were they?

I couldn’t stop thinking about my rape and my mother’s murder. It was like I was reliving them over and over again, and I couldn’t get the memories and flashbacks to stop. It felt like all my progress was reversed, and I’d have to start over, and I didn’t want to put my husband and family through that, as they’re the reason I even started to heal.

I just didn’t want to be in pain anymore, and I thought everyone would be happier if I was dead. I didn’t want to be a burden to my husband.

Looking back and reflecting on your thoughts, have they changed? And if so, how?

I don’t want to die. I still don’t feel as good as I was feeling before I found out the truth, but I’m not thinking or wanting to kill myself anymore. I still have a lot of things I want to do. I’m not ready to be done here. Just want to get better.

 Do you wish you would have done something different? What could you have done differently?

Yes.

Called my husband. 

Can you identify at least one reason your life is worth living?

Roman 

Roman has oscillated through so many different emotions reading through this worksheet from beginning to end. Anger seems like the dominant emotion, his jaw clenching as he learns how close to the paternal tree Solana’s bitch brother remained..

He’s not much better than Xavier. 

If not worse. 

And Roman is determined to find even more, additional ways to make that fucker suffer the way he made Solana suffer for so many years.

He’s also livid and something else unknown that on a day that should have been special for her, she was considering taking her own life.

And he hates himself for putting her in that position in the first place. He was the one who wanted to speed everything up, not even considering how traumatic that process could have been for her. 

But he especially doesn’t know how to feel reading just how highly Solana views and feels about him. She hasn’t been very quiet regarding how much she cares about him, but reading her words, her writing, her honesty, it makes him aware of just how much she cares. 

“You mean a lot to her. And her healing and progress moving forward will require your support.” Gail cuts in, voice calm and almost soothing. “One of the things I ask clients all the time is who their support system is and is there anything else they need from this person or persons….she couldn’t tell me a single thing she needs from you that you don’t already give her.” Roman says nothing, not even offering a nonverbal gesture or movement for her to analyze. Thus, Gail continues, reviewing her notes of topics she wanted to touch on with him prior to his seeing Solana in a few hours. “Now, I will say, Solana does exhibit strong codependent tendencies. Specifically with you. She’s extremely attached to you, and while that should probably be addressed at some point, her stabilization is the priority.”

Roman doesn’t pay much, or any, mind to that last part. He doesn’t care what this woman says. Whatever Solana needs, she’ll get. 

Especially if what she wants is him.

Cause he wants her just as much. 

________

Roman doesn’t get nervous. 

Ever.

But, he’s certain what he’s feeling in his fucking stomach is some level of nerves.

And he hates that shit.

Cause why the fuck is he at his grown age feeling anxious about seeing his wife? Perhaps it’s the fact that it’ll be the first time in a week that he’s actually laid eyes on her, seeing her not lying unconscious in a hospital bed. That he’ll be able to have her big brown eyes focused on him. Hear the sound of her voice, so soft and light.

He shuts his eyes.

Fucking nerves.

He decides to pull out his phone as a distraction while security escorts her to him in the visitors section, remembering a text from Paul that he should probably respond to. Not that he wants to, but it’s better standing here feeling fucking stupid and—

“Roman…”

He wasn’t sure just sure how he would respond or react or even feel seeing her for the first time in a week, but Solana is barely able to get his name out of his mouth when Roman snaps his head up from the phone in his hand to the direction of which the voice came. 

It happens a bit too fast for him to even process. The rise and easy falter of her smile, the gloss of her eyes, the tiny scoff of disbelief that leaves her mouth before she’s running toward him.  Roman wastes not a single fucking second to pick her up the minute she throws her body against him. And just like that, almost every trace of irritation, of vexation, of anger melts away.

Roman’s eyes shut as he holds her close against him, noticing how tightly she’s holding him back. 

Her voice cracks followed by a sniffle as she murmurs against his shoulder. “I’ve missed you….”

For a brief second, he’s angry again. Angry because has she been asking for him? And if so, why was he not informed? Stratus has been texting him frequent general updates. That she’s been consistently opening up in individual therapy, not as open in group sessions, often writes and draws during their designated free time, etc.

But nothing about her asking for him. 

He makes a mental note to ask Stratus about that shit, but not now. Now, his focus is entirely focused on the woman in his arms.

“I missed you too.” Saying he missed her feels like an understatement. Roman has been fucking miserable without her around, but what good would it serve her to share as such? So, he keeps it simple but still accurate.

He ignores the small part of him that dislikes when she finally pulls away, but that dissatisfaction is easily shoved to the side when he sees her eyes watering. “I’m so sorry. I—I didn't mean. I just—”

Roman’s focus is now solely honed in on stopping her from crying. He can’t see her upset. Not after what happened. He moves his hands to her face, gently cupping her cheeks and brushing away her tears. “Let’s talk, okay?”

She nods, stepping back, forcing his hands to drop but easily sliding her hand into one of his as she leads them in the direction from where she came. Roman won’t lie. He’s not paying attention to much in passing. Just her. It’s like there’s a blurred lens on them, distorting everything around them except his wife.

And he has zero issues with this. 

He has zero issues until they’re walking past a group of three women who seem to notice that Solana is crying and stop her, the one who almost looks like she could be Hispanic asks Solana, “are you alright?”

Who the fuck is this? Roman would most definitely ask as such as well as tell her to stay out of their damn business if not for the fact that Solana answers almost reassuringly. 

“Yes, of course.” 

To make matters worse, this irritating ass stranger has the audacity to almost send a suspicious damn near glare his way. Just who the fuck does she think she is? 

The woman on her right suddenly asks, her quiet voice strangely reminding him of Solana. Right off the bat, he can see they have similar demeanors. “You’re still joining us for breakfast, right?”

Solana answers right away, shaking her head. “Of course.”

Joining for breakfast? What the fuck is this? A psychiatric ward or summer camp?

The women all seem to give Solana that ‘call us if you need anything’ nod before finally leaving him alone with his wife. Roman has to keep his sigh to himself.

Only Solana would make ‘friends’ at a damn hospital.

She finally leads him into what he would guess is her ‘room.’ He’s instantly not impressed and annoyed because he directly instructed Stratus to make sure she had the best this place has to offer.

This clearly ain’t it. He adds it to his list of complaints to bring up to the psychiatrist. He’s also annoyed by the ‘sheet’ that serves at the door, irritated that they won’t have total privacy. But, he understands. It’s a psychiatric ward. Not the Four Seasons. 

Roman allows Solana to guide him over to her bed where she motions for him to sit down. He does as such, partially surprised when she climbs onto his lap, legs on either side. He doesn’t protest though, simply holds her by his hips as he shifts so that his back against the wall. 

Solana, however, keeps her head down, her hands scrunching the bottom of his shirt as she seems to force out, “I don’t want to talk about this—”

That’s an easy thing, Roman quickly moving to remind her of her autonomy. “Then don’t—”

She cuts him off. “But, I need to.” She finally lifts her gaze, and my God, he’s missed staring into those pretty eyes, seeing her pretty face. “I can’t—I won’t avoid it.” She takes a deep breath, asking, “what do you want to know?”

He’s partially surprised by how direct she’s being, but in his defense, the last time he spoke to her directly, she was in such a different place. A much darker place.

That doesn’t seem to be the case anymore, but he knows looks can be deceiving, so he remains cautious. His voice is surprisingly gentle, as he answers, “I think you already know the answer to that, Sol.”

Her eyes shut again, and he can’t tell if it’s because of his use of his nickname for her or the emotionality of it all. 

Both, probably. 

She brings her gaze back on him, and he hates seeing the emotion building back up. Logically, he knows that there’s no way to have this kind of conversation and emotion not be present. Doesn’t mean he has to like it though. “I just….I couldn’t think straight that night, Roman. I just kept reliving every bad thing that’s happened to me but now with the knowledge that it was my own father that was responsible. And I just….I couldn't handle it.”

This is the part he can barely handle. The knowing of the role, a large role, he played in what landed her here. He feels like shit about it and prepares to take ownership when she continues. 

“And I thought….I felt like….I felt like all the progress I had made was now gone and that I’d have to start over, and I just—-I couldn’t fathom going through all that again.” She swallows, tears starting to fall. “I felt like I would just be a burden to you and that….it would just be easier for you if I was dead.”

Gutted. Reading it was one thing, but hearing it is an entirely different experience. To know this is truly how she felt, the thought process that led to her making the decision she made. The most likely reason she didn’t call him.

Because she thought she was a burden.

It kills him.

She drops her head, and he moves his hands back to her face. “Solana, look at me.” When she continues to keep her head down, he repeats himself, voice still low and gentle. “Look at me.” She seems to hesitate but follows through, Roman hating how devastated she looks. “Nothing about my life would be easier without you in it. You are never a burden to me. You never have been, and you never will be. I want to help you. Listen to you. Whatever it is you need, I’ll do. I just need you to tell me.” This time, he’s the one swallowing back unfamiliar and uncomfortable emotions. “I just need you to not leave me, alright?” She seems slightly taken back by his honesty and vulnerability. Truthfully, so is he. It was one thing to be so honest with her while she was unconscious, but it’s another when she sits before him, aware and conscious and hanging onto every word. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your father. I should have—”

“No. Please—please don’t.” She shakes her head, interrupting him with that same small voice. “I’m glad you didn’t.” The ‘shocked’ ball is back in his court as she explains, “I don’t….I don’t think I would have ever wanted to know the truth. It’s….it’s been too hard to have to deal with that.” 

Clearly. He can’t even begin to imagine what that’s like for her. To be stuck with the knowledge that her own flesh and blood could be so cruel, so hateful, so evil as to do what Xavier has done to his own daughter.

“The therapy has….it’s helped.” He believes it. Roman has noticed the sheets of paper that have positive affirmations and what he would guess are coping skills taped to the wall opposite her bed. She cracks a small, sad smile. “It’s….it’s been good for me.”

He believes that, too. He can see that. There’s a stark difference in her appearance, even with her being emotional as she is with the conversation at hand. She doesn’t look as fractured as the last time he saw her.

She looks stronger. Happier, even. It makes his chest swell with yet another unfamiliar sentiment.

Love, perhaps?

Just thinking about it has Roman clearing his throat, needing to focus on something other than that right now. “Have they been treating you okay?” This has been pretty high up, if not the highest, thing on his priority list.

She nods, Roman noticing and grateful that her tears are starting to dry up. “Yes. I….how many Bloodline men do you have here?”

“Enough.” She doesn’t need to know the full extent of just how above and beyond he went to ensure no one on staff at this hospital could be questionable about their intentions towards her. “I’m always gonna look out for you, baby. Always.”

Her eyes shut, not from feeling overwhelmed but something else. Something that seems less heavy and more comforting. 

Solana moves around on top of him, Roman somehow sensing what she’s trying to do, and he has zero hesitations.

He shifts his body, so he’s laying on her bed, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed, but it makes no difference to him as soon as she lays on top of him, her head cradled in his neck, her arms around him.’

“I’ve missed you.” Her arm laid against him, Roman reading to close his eyes when he catches onto something for the first time. He doesn’t know he missed it either, because it stands out. Roman gently takes her arm, turning it over.

On her inner forearm are a set of beautifully drawn butterflies of various sizes and colors, the largest being a dark blue color and the smaller one next to it, different shades of red and pinks. There are three much smaller butterflies under the two larger ones, two of them pink and the smallest also that same dark blue.

She looks up at him, offering a small smile. “It’s something they have us do in group therapy. They call it The Butterfly Project.” She shifts her body to show him her other forearm, revealing additional butterflies before she lays back down as she was. “You draw butterflies that represent the people in your life you care about and every time…you think of wanting to self-harm, you remember that you’re killing the butterflies. It’s like….like a reminder that people care about you.”

It’s an interesting concept, and judging by the emotion in her voice, a concept she resonates with deeply. Roman’s long index finger ghosts over the larger blue one as he asks, “who is this one for?” 

Solana’s smile deepens. “You.” He’s grateful that she continues to explain so he doesn't have to think much about that sentiment very similar to love that comes up at that admission. “And this one,” she gestures to the pink and red one. “--is me. My future self.” 

That doesn’t help the building emotion, so he again goes for distraction, motioning to the remaining three, asking, “and those?”

She swallows, something flashing in her eyes he can’t identify, answering gently, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

Her answer confuses him. He doesn’t know what to make of it, but he doesn’t want to push her either. 

“How is Dulce?” She asks suddenly, the sadness in her voice returning.

Roman won’t tell her the way her puppy sometimes sits by the front door around the time she usually gets home from work or the way she whimpers at night every so often, clearly missing her owner. He’ll spare her that, offering only a morsel of the truth. 

“The usual. Sleeping most of the day. You can tell she misses you.” 

Solana frowns. “I miss her too.” She licks her lips, asking almost nervously, “how are Bay—”

Roman is quick to shut that down, a hint of harshness in his voice. “I don’t want to talk about them.”

Truth be told, he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to look or view them the same ever again. It may be a bit irrational and unfair, but it’s how he feels. And truthfully speaking, he’s got ten million other things on his mind and in his heart he’s trying to sort through. 

“Roman…..” Solana sits up a bit, and he’s taken back for a second by how fucking beautiful she is. Even with the sadness in her eyes. “It wasn’t their fa—”

“Not now, Sol.” His tone takes on a gentler tone as he adds on, for good measure, “please. I just want to enjoy you.”

He knows she’ll bring it up again. She cares too much about the two women who Roman will never trust her with again to just let it go permanently. “Okay.” She lays herself back down on top of him, and Roman kisses the top of her head.

“How are you?”

He’s not quite sure why her question surprises him. But, the answer is an automatic, “fine.”

He’s far from fine, but she doesn't need to know that.

Again, Solana sits up, that frown almost deepening. “Are you sleeping?” She reaches over and caresses his beard. “You look tired. H–have you been taking your medicine?”

Roman is truly dumbfounded. She is the one who is currently a legally mandated patient in a psychiatric ward because she was actively suicidal only a week ago, and yet, she’s laying here worried about him. 

Roman has to push back that love feeling that’s returning. 

“I keep telling you not to worry about me,” he reminds, once again wanting and almost needing to stress to her that worrying about him should be the last thing on her plate.. “I just want you to focus on yourself.”

Her retort surprises him, bold and almost uncharacteristic of her. “And I keep telling you that I’m always going to worry about you.”

Roman chuckles, commenting, “you’re becoming more outspoken….”

She gives him a small smile. “I told you the therapy has been helping.”

Roman scoffs. She’s right. Maybe that Gemma woman does know what she’s doing. 

“Do you need anything?”

Solana says nothing, just lays back down against him, her hand moving over his chest, resting on his heart. “Just you.” She must glance at the clock on the wall as she comments, “we only have 40 minutes left….”

He knows she’s referring to the one hour time block allotted for visitors. Something he absolutely couldn't give two shits about. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.“ He’d stay the whole night if that was what she wanted. 

“Roman….” It’s funny how he already knows what she’s going to say. “The rules—”

His interruption is sharp, but it’s not aimed towards her. And she knows that. “I don’t give a fuck about rules when it comes to you.” She sighs into his chest, offering no protest, saying nothing else.

Conversation is intermittent over the next two or so hours, Solana eventually falling asleep on top of him. He doesn’t mind. As much as he enjoys talking to her, having her body on top of his is an easy, acceptable alternative.

He’s missed this. Missed being with and around her. Roman is just now realizing just how much he benefits from having her around. He’s been a complete nightmare for everyone around him outside of Dulce, even more temperamental than his usual default setting.

But the minute he laid eyes on her, saw her innocent smile, had her in his arms, everything suddenly felt so better.

That’s what she does for him. What she is for him. 

Medicine. 

An antidote. Something he never knew he was missing until he met her. It seems like it was almost impossible for him to not fall in love with her. 

Love….

Thinking about it again brings a frown to his handsome face, forcing him to face a reality that’s so easy to escape when he’s with her.

Roman may love Solana, but….he can never act on it. Not really. Can never tell her he loves her. That makes it official. That confirms that he finally has something his enemies can use against him, a distraction, a weakness.

Loving her openly would make him vulnerable, would put her at risk, and he couldn’t do that. Not just for himself but most definitely not to her. 

To be with her like this, open and vulnerable, behind closed doors is one thing. It’s an entirely different ballpark though to make that visible and public, even with just telling her.

Feeling her stir against him, Roman kisses the top of her head, tugging her closer. 

He won’t deny that he loves her. 

But, he can’t act on it either. 

He’s just going to have to find someway to push that down, tuck it away for safekeeping.

It’s just better that way. 

________

Roman stays for about two hours, Solana waking up and reluctantly expressing her okayness with him leaving. It’s not what she wants, definitely not what he wants, but it’s what’s necessary.

If even for the fact that Dulce can’t be left alone for too long.  

Solana holds onto his arm as she walks him out, Bautista not too far behind to escort her back to her room.

But, it’s when he turns to tell her bye, Roman about to ask her when she wants him to come see her again (fuck visting days), she surprises him by reaching behind her back and pulling out a sealed envelope. 

Brows furrowed, Roman is curious just how the hell he missed that when she presses it against his chest. “Promise me you won’t read it until you get home.” 

Now he’s extremely confused. It’s been a while since Solana has written to thim. They’ve progressed way past that, and it does concern him a bit that she didn’t just talk to him about whatever lies between the lines of this letter. 

But, he also knows she’s been working hard in therapy and even in being able to open up to him about what happened that night had to have been a lot for her, so he won’t push it and will respect it.

Accepting the letter, he simply says, “okay.”

She offers a close mouthed smile, a sign of appreciation and moves to hug him once more, mumbling something in Spanish against his chest that he can’t make out. When she pulls back, he doesn’t hesitate to cup her cheek, reiterating, “you need anything, you let me know, alright?” They’d already briefly discussed how she had picked up on the fact that he had his men stationed strategically all over this place, and any of them were able to get a message to him. 

She nods, repeating to him, “okay.” Solana tugs on his shirt and leans up to kiss his cheek, murmuring against his ear, “bye, Roman.”

It seems saying goodbye is difficult for her just as much as it is for him, Roman unable to reciprocate it, only letting his gaze follow her retreating form until Bautista gives him a nod and closes the door behind them. 

He stands there for a good minute or two before actually leaving.

Fuck. Leaving her seems to be getting harder and harder. 

Roman is barely in the SUV, door not even shut when his long fingers are moving with all the determination to open up the envelope. He unfolds the piece of paper, unsurprised to find her neat handwriting. 

Roman,

I need to ask you to do something for me, but I need you to please hear me out before you settle on an answer. And please know I wouldn’t be asking this of you if I didn’t believe it’s something I really need. 

I’m so sorry for putting you through this. I never want to cause you any stress or create any problems for you. 

I wasn’t in a good place, and this experience has made me realize there’s still a lot of parts of me that still need to heal. I still have a lot to work through. 

That’s why I’m asking.

Gail mentioned a treatment facility she runs about an hour away. It’s a 6 week program for women coming out of the hospital like I will be. 

Roman, I think I should go. 

I don’t think I should come home just yet.

I don’t feel ready. I’m not having those thoughts or urges anymore, but there’s still things I think I need to work through. I don’t ever want to put you through something like this again. I don’t ever want to end up back here again, but the only way I can do that is by making sure I’m good before I leave.

And I don’t know if another week can do that. 

I miss you. So much. It’s been hard being away from you and Dulce and everyone else. But, I feel like I have to do this. I need to do this. 

For us. 

But mostly for me. 

I want to get better.

Please let me.

Te quiero mucho,

Solana

BTW, I’m saying ‘I love you very much’ in Spanish. 

Because I do. 

I love you, Ro.

And I don’t need you to say it back or feel the same. With what you’ve been through, I’d never expect or ask that of you.

I just need you. Your continued support. That’s all. That’s enough.

With all my love,

Solana

________

“I’m so sick of your bloody fuckin’ shit, Seth! It’s the same fuckin’ thing over and over again, and I’m done!” 

The cadence, melody, and even tone of his wife’s rant serves as the perfect resources for Seth who is lazily sprawled out across their sofa, beer in one hand, the other hand moving as if conducting an orchestra. 

And he is.

Because this has become a song and dance with his fiery tempered, Irish wife.

Seconds later, she’s practically stomping in the living room, their daughter in hand who is most definitely old enough to remember this little spat. He cackles to himself. How unfortunate.

However, Becky’s enraged gaze is focused on him, disgust plastered all over. “Were you even listenin’ to me?”

He makes a sound, unbothered eyes falling on her, that infamous smile growing. “Of course, dear.”

Becky, however, knows better. Has been with this man long enough to know better. And she’s done. “Ya know, I thought you were getting better, yeah? But then that bloke Breaker comes over here looking for you, and I—” Becky cuts herself off, refusing to start yelling with her daughter in her arms. Her accent is even thicker, as she shares while adjusting the bag on her other shoulder, “I’m gonna go stay with Charlotte til’ I can figure out just what I’m gonna do.”

What she’s not saying is that she’ll stay with her closest American friend until she can find the funds and resources to move back home. 

She’s just done.

Seth, however, seems unconcerned by the fact that she’s leaving with their kid. “Okay, dear.” He snorts, falling into that all too familiar maniacal laugh. The one that typically accompanies the reckless and dangerous behavior that has her packed and ready to go. It was one thing when it was just the two of them, but with a child now, Becky has a responsibility to keep her daughter safe.

And there is nothing safe about her husband rekindling ties with the Nightmare Factory.

Not wanting him to see the pending tears, Becky kisses her daughter’s cheek and heads for the door, not allowing herself to hesitate as she rips it open only for her jaw to drop.

She scoffs. Unbelievable. With even more support for her decision to leave, Becky looks over her shoulder at her husband who climbs to his feet. “First the Nightmare Factory, and now the fuckin’ Bloodline?” She shakes her head. “Yeah, you dig your own fuckin’ grave, Seth.” 

And with that, she moves past the figures, determined to not look back this time.

Meanwhile, a massive smile grows on Seth’s unshaven face, delight dancing in his dark eyes.

This is certainly proving to be such an eventful day. 

He practically stumbles over but manages to stand firm as he takes a swig of his beer, burping loudly and then asking with all of the excitement, evil smile on his face.

“How can I help you?”

[verystrxxwberry]

Hi, Alex! How is your day going? I was here to do a request about MCL high school life (completely sfw, so it is safe!) about the routes dealing with a reader who is stressed because they overwork in school and still doubt that will never achieve the dream of going to university?

It's just I am pretty stressed with the thought of not being able to go to university, because even if I overwork a lot, I don't get the perfect grades that I would like :(. Anyway, thank you so much! Love your writing<33

MY CANDY LOVE HSL; When you are stressed about school.

♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: fluff, MCL HSL routes, comfort. ↝ 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Greetings! I am doing quite good, thanks for asking. Regarding your issue, I understand you a lot, because my last year before entering university also was like that. I don't know how your country's education system will work, but whatever it is, university is not the only path in life. There are many people who have moved on without a career or something; and above all prioritize your own health! I understand that you want to get good grades, but if you overwork yourself you will only block your brain and not allow it to function well because it will be exhausted since it has no rest. Good luck, and take life easy, it's only one life you have and you have to enjoy it!

♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•.

CASTIEL 

He didn’t start caring about his grades until he saw that he failed almost every subject during the first months of classes. Sigh… he can’t let that happen.

Initially, there was a contrast between you and him. He was the stereotypical rebellious kid who didn't care about classes, and you were that student who was always keeping up with the class. Castiel is aware of how much effort you put into studying. Many times he would tell you to come to his house to spend time with him, and he would let you study on his desk for a while without any problem. Of course, he is strict about breaks and insisting that you give your little head a rest.

He will even quietly kiss your head spontaneously as you are focused on studying, to cheer you up however he can.

Castiel feels confusion when he sees that a grade matters so much to you to the point of breaking down over it. He doesn't blame you, but considers that you don't deserve so much pressure regarding grades. As he looks you in the eyes  and pulls your hair out of your face, he would say "Come on, life doesn't end because of a grade. You're human, not a machine; although sometimes machines fail too. But so what? We can't be good at everything. Ask for help, don't give up." You can feel his hand cupping your chin to make you look at him. And you can see the worry and affection on his eyes.

He's concerned about how this issue affects your mental health. After every test you take, he would take you somewhere for a date so you don't get over stressed. A break for your own good never hurts.

In Castiel's opinion, college is overrated; but he knows you are capable. More than once he will have had deep conversations with you about "You're already too hard on yourself, don't drown yourself in an abyss of negativity before you start something you want." 

Even if you didn't go to college, that wouldn't make you any less human. And there's nothing wrong with that.

Castiel would support you no matter what your decision, though he'd rather you take things more lightly. He doesn't like to see you stop enjoying your actuality because of the stress of school.

NATHANIEL

Nathaniel's strict prioritization of his studies was mainly because of his father, but Nath had inner desires that went against the stereotype that he was.

During class he already noticed that you felt some frustration when you received your test grade. His hand rested on your forearm and he looked at you with concern. "Hey, what's wrong?" 

When you explain your disappointment in reference to your exam grade, he sighs and shakes his head. "Get that thought out of your head, dear.... No grade is perfect and everyone has their strengths and weaknesses." He strokes your back gently, in order to comfort your state of mind.

If you're struggling with something, he has no problem helping you to understand it. He makes dates to study with you in a cafe <3 (he would end up inviting you to dinner or a drink in the cafe itself). And never feel ashamed of failing! Everyone does and there are always opportunities to improve. If there aren't, then life goes on; don't get stuck in the past.

Whatever grade you have, it will be something Nathaniel will congratulate you on. What matters is that you tried!

Nathaniel knows that having a good healthy schedule for your homework and study management will be what helps you get to college. He supports you, as long as you don't break your boundaries. Don't set expectations, don't compare yourself, just do what you can without pushing your limits and you can get to where you want to be.

Another thing Nath would also do is to talk to the teachers so that they can help you in those subjects that are more difficult for you, and he could accompany you if you wanted. Anyway, he does it for your sake and seeing that you also put dedication makes him feel happy and proud. At the end of each day, before you each leave for home, he would give you a little kiss on the forehead and say "Good job today."

LYSANDER 

Lysander takes everything calmly, even studies. During classes he takes light notes, but generally listens to the teachers. Not ironically, his memory does not usually fail when it comes to his studies. Likewise, he is not a strict person with his schedule and he will see that you are quite strict with yours. Why do you study so much if your brain needs a break?

Lysander has no problem accompanying you to the library, but he insists that between assignments you take certain breaks. More than once he will tell you "Don't be so hard on yourself, it will have negative consequences in the future."

After each study session he sings to you to relax in his arms, to take your mind off anything study related and get some rest.

Lysander believes that you shouldn't look so much into your future, since the present is already unpredictable enough without planning for something stable in the future. You build your way towards that goal you have, but you will always encounter some difficulty along the way. He knows that your grades are that difficulty that keeps you from moving forward in terms of your hopes of going to college.

"Honey, do what you can; what matters is that you tried. Life goes on, sometimes you have to take shortcuts or other paths that don't allow you to reach your goal. But it will never be your fault, since you already know that you have done your best" He would tell you while caressing the back of your neck. "Be proud of yourself and stop criticizing yourself so much. You don't value yourself enough to see that you are capable enough to put so much effort into things; and that is what should be valued the most."

KENTIN 

Oh no, he's not going to let your little pretty face fill with sadness over something as annoying as grades. He understands that you want to go to college and he will certainly encourage you to follow your dreams; but in moderation! He would suggest that you come to his house to study with him, or to the library, and then he would reward you with cookies.

Kentin will force you to take at least two or three hours a day for yourself. You know what they say about playing sports for a while a day so you can exercise your concentration? Well Kentin believes it and will encourage you to join his routines so you can concentrate better and study in less hours than extending them to the point that it affects you negatively.

There's nothing more upsetting for Kentin than seeing you cry over a grade. "Hey, nooo, listen, you're more than enough, don't let a grade ruin your life! You're very disciplined, I'm sure that facet already opens many doors for you even if you don't make it to college" He would tell you as he cradles your cheeks in his hands.

He's going to kiss your tears, he's not going to let you be sad for long.

Kentin is very involved in you taking some time out of your day just for you. He invites you to his house to take a nap, or to go practice sports with him, or bake cookies in his kitchen. But he also supports you to study and spend time studying; but he offers you the idea of balance your organization so that you can clear your mind and have a more positive mindset.

ARMIN 

Maybe Armin is a bad influence when it comes to giving school advice?- He would literally tell you to focus on being happy and leave all those worries behind you. In fact, he supports that idea of; if it makes you feel bad, leave it.

But he knows he can't be such a bad influence and push you to make decisions that distract you from your path for so long. 

It confuses him why you care so much about your grades. He witnesses all the effort you put into studying, since during exams time he can barely see you :(. Usually because he always brings his console with him, and that's going to distract you from studying. He doesn't mind being patient; he will always send you messages of support when you go to study!

It took him a while to realize that it really is an issue that affects you, but when he saw that it was serious, ah-ah, don't even think about overworking. "You know what happens to a character when they run out of stamina? They feel weak, they can't cope well with situations and they need rest. So do you!"

The easiest way he has to distract you is to write you a message in discord and saying “hop on terraria, bb” (or any other game). But he can completely adapt to those things you enjoy doing! He doesn’t mind (even if it is out home he is gonna whine a lot)

No matter the grade you get on an exam, he is gonna clap at you and feel very happy for you. Sometimes he’d make you blush from embarrassment at how loud he can be��� But still, he is very proud of you. And he is not gonna hide it!

“Oh, hey, what’s with that pout? Come on, smile! You did such a great job.” He speaks in such a sweet way that it barely looks like him, but he wants to make you smile, to squeeze you in between his arms. “Never give up, you are strong enough to deal with this and more! But do it at the needed pace to not drain yourself, remember?”

Never back down never give up

✰; remember to reblog and like to support my content, I hope you enjoyed it!

[lakesbian]

and now for our Checking In With The Dallon Sisters poasting

Panacea shook her head, “Tattletale found a way around my sister’s invincibility. Glory Girl was bitten pretty badly, which is why I didn’t come sooner. I think it hits you harder, psychologically, when you’re pretty much invincible but you get hurt anyways. But we’re okay now. She’s healed but sulking. I- I’m alright. Bump on my head, but I’m okay.”

victoria is demonstrably having a bad time with the previously noted psychological pain of being forcibly reminded that, no matter how hard she tries, she will never be the spotless, invincible, perfect hero she wants to be. the bug bites suck obviously but the "sulking" After being healed is an indicator of where it really hurt--not just physically.

(amy's power reminds me of. do you guys know that one tumblr post about the concept of exploring the horror potential inherent to D&D-esque fantasy healers? like, the horror inherent to being perfectly, magically healed from horrifying injury a hundred times over, and being expected to just get up and keep fighting afterwards, without any regards to how your mental health is doing. that's exactly how amy's power functions: you're made physically better than ever, and expected to get back up and keep being a hero, but you still have the memory of the pain and the lingering psychological aftereffects. but, like, you're fine now, so you just need to get over it and go back to throwing yourself in the line of fire, okay?)

amy is also right off the bat clearly not doing so hot--she's acting very shy and withdrawn and unsure compared to both of her prior appearances. obviously that is due to the horror of some random villain going "btw, remember that you're ontologically an invader into the family you are trying to belong in!" but i think it's probably compounded by the fact that amy is so used to being treated either 1. like she's intrinsically awful/unwanted or 2. like she's only valuable/desirable as a resource by Everyone But Victoria that walking into a room of heroes w/o victoria by her side is always liable to make her insecure and withdrawn.

oh, and the burnout. obviously the severe fucking burnout.

“No, I hated that he would have a normal life, because I’d given up mine.  I was scared that I might intentionally make a mistake.  That I might let myself fuck up the procedure with this kid.  I could have killed him or ruined his life, but it would have eased the pressure.  Lowered expectations, you know?  Maybe it would have even lowered my own expectations for myself.  I… I was just so tired.  So exhausted.  I actually considered, for the briefest moment, abandoning a child to suffer or die.” “That sounds like more than just exhaustion,” Gallant replied, quietly. “Is this how it starts?  Is this the point I start becoming like my father, whoever he was?”

the "every second i rest, someone dies" conundrum would be nightmarish for her even if she had the healthiest social support net on the planet, but her circumstances make it infinitely worse. she's treated by everyone in her "family" but victoria like an invader, and even victoria has unintentionally stressed the importance of using her healing power in the way that the family wants (i.e. to cover up victoria's police brutality) in order to Be A Good Family Member. amy has internalized that being a good dallon is the same as being a good hero, and failing at being a dallon is the same as being overcome by her ontologically criminal roots. so she works herself to the bone, and when she inevitably starts to falter, she views it as an indicator of something intrinsically wrong with her rather than as a sign that her family + society's expectations for her are harmful and unfair.

and dean's advice for her only reinforces this further:

Gallant let out a slow breath, “I could say no, that you’re never going to be like your father. But I’d be lying. Any of us, all of us, we run the risk of finding our own way down that path. I can see the strain you’re experiencing, the stress. I’ve seen people snap because of less. So yeah. It’s possible.”

he suggests that she try to take a break, but only in the service of "so you can heal more people in the long run." he validates the idea that she could go "down that path," as if becoming a villain--becoming A Bad Person--is a risk all heroes have to fight against on an individual level, as opposed to criminality being a result of circumstance and not even inherently immoral. and of course dean thinks that way--he's a millionaire child soldier, his entire life is predicated on individualist thought with ignorance to the ways in which systematic factors impact people. acknowledging that amy is being horrifically mistreated would mean not only acknowledging the flaws in the PRT system, but acknowledging what might lead people to stray from it, and he simply can't do that. it goes counter to every idea that his life is built on.

he never even tells anyone that amy thought about letting a child die, or if he did, it didn't go anywhere. she was desperate for help all along, increasingly ready to explode, and everyone just ignored it. because as she says:

"My sister’s all I’ve got. The only person with no expectations, who knows me as a person. Carol never really wanted me.  Mark is clinically depressed, so as nice as he is, he’s too focused on himself to really be a dad. My aunt and uncle are sweet, but they’ve got their own problems. So it’s just me and Victoria. Has been almost from the beginning."

this is also where we see another more blatant sign of her crush on victoria--it's very ambiguous as to whether dean is interpreting amy's feelings towards him as meaning "wants to date me" or "jealous of me for dating victoria" but i think it's probably the former because there's no way he would keep his mouth shut if it was the latter, lmao. really what this scene is doing is introducing all of the stressors amy is experiencing that, because they're going unaddressed, because everyone else is refusing to address them and she has internalized that's how it should be, are going to boil over horrifically later on. that burnout and fear of accidentally-on-purpose making a mistake will lead to truly being unable to heal victoria later on. that sense of obligation, that if she can't keep healing she's turning into her father, will contribute to her being unable to just walk away from victoria instead of trying to heal her. her crush on victoria--the ultimate example of how her should-be family has ostracized her--will boil over in the impulsive brain alteration & the sexual nature of the wretch's design.

and all of this would've been avoidable if not for, as mentioned in the prior post abt this interlude, the dallons' and the PRT's enforcement of wallpapering over the kid heroes' pain to Keep Up The Show.

[withlovewriting]

All I Ever Knew, Only You 9: When The Party's Over

Chapter Nine.

I wanna feel something, I wanna feel something, I drink to feel something, I sleep and feel nothing, Maybe that's where you come in, Maybe that's where you and I begin

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits, and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 5,839

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of menstruation (not really a warning, but here you go), mild Nancy slander, Billy Hargrove getting a little too comfortable, derogatory name calling, strong language, mentions of scars, and insecurities regarding them, heartbroken Steve, reader is wasted, but more bonding.

Season's greetings, babes.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize… ‘wait a damn minute…’, eventual sexual content, no use of y/n, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

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Chapter Nine: When The Party's Over

The exhaustion had finally got to you. That was the only plausible reason you had for entertaining Billy Hargrove for so long without swinging at his annoyingly pretty face.

You’d only approached him that morning to speak to Max as she exited his Camaro, but the boy had leered at you over the roof of the car the entire time as he puffed away on a cigarette. Unfortunately, he seemed to take that as an invitation to pester you for the rest of the day.

“I don’t have time for this right now, Hargrove.”

The sound of his boots hitting the linoleum flooring told you he wasn’t giving up any time soon, “It’s cool, I can walk and talk. I ain’t got nowhere to be.”

“I’m pretty sure you have a class to be in, actually,” you rolled your eyes, continuing your march to your destination.

“You know my schedule already? How sweet. But look, it’ll be my first party here in Hawkins, you gotta make it.”

Scoffing, you pushed onward toward the library. Somewhere you weren’t sure Billy knew existed, “I haven’t gotta do anything. Plus, Hawkins' parties are all lame. I wouldn’t hold your breath for this one to be different.”

“It’ll be a whole lot less lame with me there, sweetheart,” Billy was on your heels, practically trying to mount your back as you finally pushed through the doors, halting a little too quickly as the door hit the wall, which caused the boy to bump into your back as all eyes cast over you as he laid an arm over your shoulder, “Who knows, you might even crack a smile.”

Spinning on your heel and effectively removing yourself from the boy’s grip, you pushed at Billy’s chest — frown deepening when he barely moved an inch — and huffed, “I’m not in the mood, Hargrove. So leave me alone.”

Stomping off, your fingers dug into your bag as you held it against your chest as if it would magically stave off the unwanted attention from the surrounding students. Especially the attention of the boy with the coffee-colored eyes that you could feel boring into you from the moment you barreled into the room.

You hadn’t been actively avoiding Steve, per se. But with the embarrassment you felt last night still running hot under your skin, you didn’t have the willpower to be around him. You’d felt disconcertingly vulnerable under his unwavering gaze last night, and deep down, a part of you still expected to find him in the cafeteria with his old posse of jerks giggling at your expense.

Sure, he hadn’t bothered with Tommy or Carol since last year so your paranoia seemed unjust, but you knew old habits died hard.

“It’s not my fault you’re on the rag or something,” Billy shouted crudely across the library, clearly not trying to be subtle or considerate, before turning on his heels and making his way toward whoever his next victim was, ignoring the annoyed hissed whispers of the librarian.

You’d kept your head down throughout your free period and you could only be grateful that both Nancy and Steve had kept their distance. You had a history project to finish, and truth be told you hadn’t even started yet, and the distraction of Romeo and Juliet wouldn’t be much appreciated.

Once you were settled, you swiftly made your way across the room and toward the small supply office to browse through the encyclopedias, however you skidded to a stop when you pushed open the door only to come face-to-face with the boy you were absolutely not avoiding on purpose, and his girlfriend.

“Jesus, is nowhere in this school sacred to you two? Can’t you just go make out in the back of Harrington’s car like normal teenagers?”

The boy rolled his eyes at you as Nancy stepped out of his grasp, “I think we should tell Barb’s parents-”

With wide eyes, you scrambled into the room and shut the door behind you, already shaking your head, “Are you insane? We can’t tell Barb’s parents. We can’t tell anyone.”

“You were there, you saw what it’s doing to them.” Nancy was clearly in distress and although your heart went out to her parents, you couldn’t even begin to imagine the repercussions you’d all face if you were to open your mouths.

“I get it, Nance. Really, I do. But we can’t tell them anything. God knows what the Lab would do. What the government would do. The Byers and I would have to pay back the hospital fees and-”

“This isn’t about the money,” Nancy huffed, her head shaking as you stared at you with indignation, but you cut her off quickly,

“That’s because you grew up with a silver spoon shoved in your ass, Wheeler. Do you know what it would do to Mrs. Byers? To Will and Jonathan? To me? When you don’t have money, it factors into everything.”

Nancy was on the verge of tears, but you could flip a coin for which one of you was on the verge of hysteria, “We don’t have to tell them everything.”

This time, Steve spoke up, making his way to stand in between you both, “This isn’t some game, Nance. If they found out we told anyone… They could put us in jail, okay? Or worse, they could destroy our families. They could do anything they want, okay? Just think about what you’re saying.”

As Nancy’s bottom lip wobbled, you couldn’t help but feel guilty. But she knew — just as well as both yourself and Steve did — that she couldn’t tell a soul.

“It’s hard, but let’s…” Steve perched himself back on the table, a hand soothingly running up and down Nancy’s arm, “let's just go to Tina’s stupid party, wear our stupid costumes that we’ve been working on for a stupid amount of time, and just pretend like we’re stupid teenagers, okay? Can we just do that, just for tonight?”

Despite Steve’s attempt, Nancy didn’t seem pacified. In fact, she seemed dejected as she agreed to his plan before making her way out of the small room, not bothering to send you a second glance.

Releasing a deep sigh, the boy stood and ran a hand through his hair, leaning against one of the bookshelves as your shoulders sagged, “She’s going to get us all killed.”

“Don’t say that, alright? She’s just… She’s hurting.”

Clenching your jaw, you shook your head at the boy as you looked off to the side. Noting his thoughtlessness, he squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, “Not to say that you’re not too. But Nance just…”

“She feels guilty, Harrington. She feels guilty because she left Barb that night to shack up with you,” lifting a hand, you stopped him from interrupting you, “I’m not blaming her. Like, at all. Okay? I shouldn’t have left, and Nancy shouldn’t have let her leave. But we did, and telling her parents, putting everyone’s life at risk, isn’t going to change that.”

Steve remained quiet, but his eyes softened, and you knew he had to bite back whatever reassurance was sitting on the tip of his tongue. You didn’t want it, and you didn’t need it. It would only fall on deaf ears, anyway.

Instead, Steve’s head fell backward, a quiet thump that barely shook the rickety bookcase behind him.

“I think the party would do you some good, too. The new guy seems pretty insistent that you’re there.”

Scoffing, you moved toward the boy, leaning up to grab at the first encyclopedia your fingers grazed, unbothered by the letter. You watched as Steve’s Adam's apple bobbed, his eyes remained focused on you until you turned, strolling out of the small room, throwing the encyclopedia into your bag before making a hasty exit. The list of people you definitely weren’t purposely avoiding was growing by the minute.

“Hop, hey Hopper!” You called out, chasing down the man as he marched out of the station.

He stopped in front of his car, waiting as you pulled up on your bike, sans helmet. Again.

“Can this wait, Kid? I’m in a hurry-”

“I just… I wanted to double-check about the trick-or-treating thing tonight. I can make sure-”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” Jim asked, peering down at his watch.

Chewing your lip for a second, you cleared your throat, “I have a free period.”

Cocking a brow, Hopper watched you silently for just a moment, “So if I called the school, they’d confirm that, right?”

“Confidential, I’m afraid. You’re not my parent or guardian so…” You sent him a haughty smirk, relishing the way his face pinched slightly.

“I’m the damn Chief of police, Kid. I can-”

“Trick-or-treating. Yes, or no.”

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times. No, and that’s final.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed forward on your bike slightly and lowered your voice, “C’mon, Hop. You can’t treat her like a prisoner of war. You know what happens when you cage a dog?”

“The hell are you talking-”

“They start to bite. And when they finally get out, they start to run.”

Hopper lifted his hat to run a hand over his hair, a long, irritated sigh falling from his lips, and you knew he’d had this argument a million and one times with El, “I said no. End of. Now get back to school.”

“The hell is that smell?” you questioned, nose scrunched up as you tried to breathe through your mouth instead.

Pulling back the cover of Eugene McCorkle’s truck, you found yourself gagging as the awful, pungent smell of decay finally filled your nostrils, “That is why I’m in a hurry. Now if that’s all, I gotta go. And put a damn helmet on.”

Jonathan Byers didn’t cancel on you. In fact, he even offered to pick you up after finally deciding to allow his brother to trick-or-treat alone with his friends.

“She’s evil, I swear.” You told him as you searched through your mother’s chest of drawers, thankful she was out.

“She’s like… ten.” Jonathan laughed, leaning on the door frame, politely refusing to enter your mother’s bedroom.

Rolling your eyes, you continued to dig, “She’s actually nine, but still… Evil. We hit Cherry Street, and she managed to bully Mr. Benson into giving her three full-sized Butterfingers bars.”

Despite not seeing the boy's face, you could almost hear the amused smirk in his tone, “Oh, wow. I better call The Hawkins Post, let them know there’s a new Stalin about town.”

“Shut it, Byers.” Snatching up the yellow button-up shirt that you knew was hidden somewhere with a devilish smirk, you pushed yourself upright and almost skipped back to your room, the door shutting in Jonathan’s face before you began to change.

“You know, you don’t have to dress up, right?”

Jonathan didn’t hear your mumbled response as you pulled your black vest over your head, but a small huff of laughter fell from his lips when you finally opened the door, “Black Christmas?”

“You know that we still have time to ask Bob if you can borrow his Dracula costume, right?”

House keys half-shoved into your back pocket, you clambered into Jonathan’s Ford, already rummaging through his glove compartment to find whichever tape picked your fancy. The boy waited until you settled on a familiar yellow and black cassette.

Waiting until he pulled out of his driveway, and the second verse of Burning Down The House transitioned into the chorus, Jonathan — who had most definitely not asked Bob for his costume — finally asked the question that he had been swallowing down since his arrival at your house,

“Are you okay?”

His troubled glance burned a hole in the side of your face, but you refused to meet his eyes, “I’m fine, Jonathan.”

“This just… doesn’t seem your kind of thing.”

“And what, it’s yours?” You didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh, “Didn’t realize you were such a social butterfly, Byers.”

Sighing, Jonathan’s fingers tapped at the distressed steering wheel as he returned his gaze to the road, “I don’t know why the hell either of us are going. I mean, we’re going to hate at least 90% of the people there, right?”

Unable to hide the stretch of a smile from your lips, you finally chanced a look at the boy, grateful that his eyes remained focused on the road out ahead of him, “90%? Have you made friends that aren’t me?”

The boy shook his head, a small smile tugging at his own mouth as you grabbed the orange paper invitation that was sat on his dash, “And we’re going because we’re gonna be stupid teenagers, doing stupid things, at a stupid Halloween party. Plus, we’re gonna get sheet-faced, Byers.”

The party was in full swing by the time you’d arrived, and since you’d promised Jonathan that you’d be ready to leave by 9pm to pick up Will, you didn’t plan on wasting one second of your time.

Tina’s family home sat on Oak and First, and much like Steve Harrington’s house, it was huge and surrounded by the woods. Whilst it was great to know the chances of any neighbors calling the cops were minimal, one glance at the vast, dark treeline set you off enough to refill your cup. You didn’t know how much you’d had to drink, nor did you have any idea as to what was in the punch, bar Drew practically burping in your face that it was pure fuel. All you knew was that it tasted like grape juice. Grape juice with a lot of Tina’s parent's expensive vodka.

Turns out, Nancy was also on a mission to get absolutely wasted.

A loud cheer came from outside, and the chants of the new boy’s name could be heard even over the shredding of guitars of Motley Crew. You weren’t sure who had jacked Tina’s record player, but you were at least grateful that it was a break from back-to-back Madonna.

Ignoring the way Billy stared at you as he passed, making his way toward Steve and no doubt attempting to start trouble, you wobbled toward Jonathan, a drink in each hand.

“Oh shit, Siouxsie Sioux, right?”

The girl, Samantha — with whom you shared art class together — nodded, sending an amused, but tight smile, “Yeah. What are you?”

“Drunk,” Jonathan’s voice was loud next to you, “She’s drunk.”

Rolling your eyes, you purposely gulped down a large mouthful from your solo cup as you offered the other to Jonathan, “And you are sober. Time to catch up, Byers.”

“I’m driving,” shaking his head, Jonathan’s eyes darted around the party, and even in your drunken stupor, you knew who he was looking for.

So instead, you shrugged and took a sip from his cup, “Sucks to be you. Have a good night, Siouxsie.”

Stumbling around the party like Bambi on ice, you almost dropped both of your cups as Drew pushed past, his once rosy, alcohol-flushed cheeks now appeared to be tinged with the slightest shade of green as he rushed out toward the garden,

“Hey, Dipshit!” You halfheartedly yelled after him, eyebrows drawn together as you tried to decipher which one of the two Drews you were currently seeing was the real one, “Watch where you’re going!”

“Jesus, how much have you had to drink?”

Face still pinched, you turned to face the familiar voice, barely holding back the sigh that threatened to fall from you lips, “Oh God, it’s you.”

“Charming,” the boy scoffed, eyes darting around the room to find his girlfriend — who was merrily dancing away, her own drink high above her head — before he returned his attention to you, “Seriously though, you good?”

“I am great.”

Steve was certain it was the first time he’d ever heard you giggle.

Watching you like a hawk, Steve grabbed hold of the half-full red solo cup just before it met your lips, “I think you should slow down a little.”

“I think you should mind your own business, Steven.”

Finally managing to wrangle the cup from your grasp — which really wasn’t that hard considering your state — he placed it on the side, allowing his eyes to dart toward his girlfriend once more, “Is this about the other night? About the nightmares? Because I swear I didn’t-.”

“So you decided to show,” Billy’s smirk was wide, his eyes leering over you despite your outfit being pretty conservative, “You wanna try out the keg? You’re looking at the new King of Hawkins High.”

Your face remained stoic, unsure as to why Billy thought that would impress you, “I’m fine, thanks.”

“You wanna dance then?”

Nodding, you pointed at Billy, “Now that… That is something I wanna do.”

Steve watched as you took a large gulp from the cup he hadn’t seen, allowing Billy to begin to lead you toward the crowd. He called your name once, twice, three times, before you stopped, turning to watch him approach you with concern etched over his features, “C’mon, this isn’t like you.”

Sending the boy a sardonic smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, you peeled his gentle grip from your elbow, “That’s the thing, Steve. You don’t know me. You don’t know me, at all.”

Even as you turned to walk away again, Steve called after you, his voice full of hurt, but Billy was the one to intervene this time, a condescending smirk tugging at his lips, “You heard the girl, Harrington. Go find your girlfriend.”

Lips pressed tightly together, Steve huffed and decided that if you didn’t want his help, he would in fact go find his girlfriend. Turns out, it wasn’t exactly hard as Nancy was standing by the punch bowl, helping herself to another drink.

The party was fun for a while, you wouldn’t bother to deny that, but it was only so long that you could handle feeling so out of control. The room was spinning, and you couldn’t tell if things were moving too slowly, or a little too fast, and you felt like you didn’t know up from down. The only grounding force you had was the chest pressed against your back as Billy held you against him, hips gyrating a little too promiscuously, not that you were in any state to notice.

The smell of sweat, smoke, and aftershave that was just a little too strong for your liking hit your nostrils before the pungent, overwhelming smell of alcohol covered it, “So who’d you come as?”

“Jess Bradford,” you mumbled, eyes closed and head resting against the boy as you swayed clumsily to Duran Duran, scoffing loudly when Billy questioned who that was, “You know, from Black Christmas? 'The calls are coming from the house.'”

“Why the hell are you dressed as someone from a Christmas film?”

Out of all the times you’d wanted to slap Billy, this might’ve been the one time you would’ve, had your hand-eye coordination been any good.

“I thought you might’ve come as something a little sexier, you know?” Billy’s lips grazed the side of your neck, the hairs from his mustache tickling you in the worst of ways, “Maybe a little pussycat, or a-”

“Why would a cat be sexy?” You slurred, body no longer moving to the music as you tried to clear your bleary vision, completely unaware of the argument that was going on back in the kitchen, “God, you’re so weird-”

The words died from your mouth as your whole body stood still in shock, one hand clutched against Billy’s wandering one as it grazed over your abdomen, hand shoved between your vest and your shirt. Pushing his hand away, you tried to create some kind of distance, but the boy wouldn’t allow for it, turning you in his grip instead,

“Hey, c’mon, don’t be like that.”

“I’m not being like anything, just get off of me. I wanna go home,” when the boy moved closer, a haughty smirk pulling at his lips, you shoved your hand limply to his chest as if to move him back, “Alone. I wanna go home alone.”

His smirk dropped instantly, eyes narrowing as he looked over you, “The hell is wrong with you? One minute you’re all over me, the next you’re acting like a total prude.”

“I wasn’t-” slurring, you wobbled slightly where you stood, expression pinched, “I wasn’t all over you. You… You were all over me.”

“Last I heard, a little bit of alcohol and you turn into the county slut-”

His words stopped abruptly as your hand connected with his cheek. Even though you were wasted and your arms felt like cooked spaghetti, the darkening in both his cheek and his eyes told you it had at least hurt a little,

“You wanna go home, then fine. Go. Nobody here gives a shit.”

Refusing to allow your bottom lip to wobble until you were outside and far enough away, you stumbled out of Tina’s house, refusing to make eye contact with any of the passersby. However much of a dick he was, Billy was right.

Nobody in that party cared. Jonathan was here for one reason, and whilst you couldn’t blame him, you knew you were just along for the ride. The only friend — the only true friend — you’d had, had been dragged into the pits of Hell by some monster. The same monster who’d left a permanent reminder on your body in the form of three large, ugly scars along your abdomen. The same scars that Billy had — albeit, unwittingly — ran his hand over as he tried to feel you up.

Making your way to the end of Tina’s drive, you plopped yourself down on the curb, cursing yourself as you rummaged around in your pockets for a cigarette, only to come up empty-handed.

The first tear fell, but you wiped it away almost viciously, refusing to allow any more to fall. But you were drunk and tired — both emotionally and physically — and you just wanted this night to be over. This year to be over.

A pair of white Nike trainers came into view, stopping directly in front of you and causing you to crane your neck.

There, with bloodshot eyes and flushed cheeks, stood Steve Harrington, his large hand held out in front of him, waiting to assist you up, “C’mon, I’ll drive you home.”

You both remained silent for the most part, your eyes drooping every so often, before shooting open when your head would bump the window, a quiet murmur of ‘sorry’ from the boy next to you.

Groaning, you forced your eyes shut, the image of the passing trees making you feel nauseous, “You’re not gonna hurl, are you?”

“No,” you hiccuped, swallowing down the excessive saliva that was building up in your mouth, “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” the boy said quietly, eyes darting toward you as you curled in on yourself, sending him a half-assed glare.

“Yeah, well… Neither do you.”

A short, humorless laugh fell from his lips before he wiped at his nose, pinching the tip of it, “Yeah well, not everyone had as good of a night as you, I guess.”

“I don’t think having Billy Hargrove grinding against me is my definition of a good night.” Sighing, you ran your hand over your face, ignorant of any makeup you had probably smudged.

“Sure looked like you enjoyed it,” Steve’s eyes darted toward you, squeezing his eyes together for just a second, “I’m sorry. That was… Look, it’s none of my business, alright?”

Folding your arms over your chest, you leaned your head against the window, “You’re right. It’s not.”

Pulling up to your house, you noted your mother’s car gone from the small driveway, and you were willing to thank whatever higher power was out there until you stood patting your dark pants in an attempt to find your keys,

Thankfully, Steve was waiting until you were safely inside the house to pull away, but when you came up empty-handed he sighed and quickly exited his car, following you as you fumbled with the front room window, eventually turning your attention to the overgrown garden, “Just… Just get back in the car.”

“I’m sure I can get in through at least one window-”

Steve’s eyes widened, grabbing hold of your wrist as you lifted your arm, ready to throw a large rock you’d found straight through your bedroom window. Drunken logic, he assumed,

“Look, we don’t need to add breaking and entering to your charge sheet. Just… get back in the car. You can stay at mine.”

“It wouldn’t be breaking and entering if I’m breaking and entering my own property, dumbass,” you scoffed but allowed him to gently pull you toward his car once more, stumbling over your Converse.

Within the blink of an eye — or maybe you’d just had a five-minute nap — you were pulling up to Steve’s familiar house, the bright red door almost taunting you at the one memory you had of this place, and the stark reminder that things would never be the same again.

“My folks are home, so you’ve gotta be quiet, alright?”

Steve cringed as you slammed his car door accidentally, eyes widened as you turned to him, “…Sorry.”

After assessing the top floor windows, thanking his lucky stars that his parents seemingly remained fast asleep, he helped you into the house and up the stairs.

Delicately closing his bedroom door, Steve finally turned to you, rolling his eyes as you fell face first onto his bed, before making his way toward his chest of drawers and pulling out an old shirt, “Here, you can wear this if you want.”

Your head popped up, face pinched in disgust, “When did you last wash your sheets?”

Steve was certain that by this point, he’d seen the back of his eye sockets a million times, “Calm down, they’re clean. Just… change into that, and I’ll be back.”

Eventually pulling yourself upright, you managed to wrestle yourself out of the black vest as you grumbled to yourself the entire time before flopping back down onto the bed, unable to care that sleeping in your slim-fit yellow button-up shirt would be mildly uncomfortable at best. When Steve finally made his way back to the room — a gentle, wary knock before he reentered — he found you tucked under the navy blue comforter, his spare shirt still on the edge of the bed where he’d left it. Steve placed the cold glass of water down on the bedside table, along with the bottle of aspirin he’d brought up. Placing his hands on his hips, Steve let out a long sigh as he looked around his room, unsure of what to do.

It had been a long night, and despite Steve wanting to go to bed, he was somewhat grateful for the distraction you’d given him. He’d been warned a long time ago when he was much smaller, that crying was a weakness, even in the privacy of his own bedroom.

“Steve,” your voice was barely above a whisper, but it made him jump a little anyway, “I’m sorry I was a total bitch earlier.”

A small huff of laughter fell from his lips as he grabbed a pillow from his bed, throwing it to the floor before making his way to the cupboard, grabbing his summer comforter, “After the night I’ve had, it’s nothing.”

Flicking off the light switch and making sure his bedroom door was locked, Steve finally made himself comfortable on the floor beside the bed, his foot knocking against his desk every so often as he shuffled in an attempt to get comfortable. Releasing a sigh, Steve rolled back onto his back, gazing at the moon outside his bedroom window.

He used to have everything.

The popularity, the friends, even the girl. And now, everything was in turmoil, ripped out like a rug from under his feet, and Steve felt like he was forever falling. He was stupid to think that tonight could’ve been the night he finally felt normal again.

Rolling onto your stomach, you peered down at the boy in silence, watching as he became lost in his own thoughts. Despite the remainder of his previous summer's sunkissed skin, the moonlight washed him out, betraying the dark circles that nestled under his red-rimmed eyes. Eyes that appeared much darker.

You wouldn’t pretend that you knew Steve well. In fact, most of the things you knew about Steve could be counted on one hand. One thing you were learning, however, was that when Steve was upset, he’d become pensive. Quiet. Un-Steve like. Watching him like that — in an almost silent trance as his eyes grew dull, losing focus — tugged at your heartstrings in a way you didn’t appreciate.

“Why are you sad?”

Blinking a few times, Steve managed to pull himself out of the never-ending spiral that long, quiet nights alone seemed to inevitably end in, his eyes instead turning toward you as his brows pushed together, “I’m not sad.”

“Tell that to your face,” you didn’t have it in you to roll your eyes, instead remaining laser-focused on the boy, “because you look like a kicked puppy.”

Steve, however, did roll his eyes. Releasing a sigh, he crossed his arms over his chest, wriggling a little to get comfortable, “I’m not sad, I’m just… It's been a long night.”

A long year.

His tone was final, evident that he didn’t intend to divulge you any further into his problems, so you remained silent, still peering at him over the edge of his bed. Eventually, the pinch between his brows settled, eyes gazing back toward you, “Why were you crying?”

“I wasn’t crying,” you grumbled, burrowing yourself into the soft comforter, “I just… Also had a long night.”

“Hargrove?”

Your silence, only interrupted by a long, deep sigh, told the boy that he was correct.

“He’s an asshole.”

A short silence, followed by a slight sniffle and a defeated ‘yeah’ caused the boy to furrow his brow, hand slowly moving toward where yours hung off the bed slightly, fingers grazing your wrist as he tapped it to get your attention back, “He didn’t try anything, did he?”

Your glossy eyes refused to meet his, focusing on the moon that looked like it was about to roll right across the sky, “It’s Hargrove, he’s always trying something.”

Watching as you gnawed your bottom lip, knowing it would be sore by the morning, Steve waited patiently as you tried to rearrange your thoughts.

If you hadn’t drunk so much, you probably wouldn’t have entertained his curiosity, and Steve knew if Nancy hadn’t ripped out his heart in Tina’s bathroom, he wouldn’t have grasped at someone else’ tribulations, needing to do anything to keep his mind from imploding in on itself with questions he didn’t have the answers to.

“Last year,” your voice was as quiet as a mouse. Trepidation and dubiety wound tight on your tongue, burning like acid as you dug through the memories you’d been trying so hard to repress the past 11 months, “when that thing attacked me… Well, let's just say it left a pretty gnarly scar.”

Remaining silent, Steve watched as your throat bobbed, taking in your words even if they were still slightly slurred. Steve had a scar on his left knee from falling off his bike when he was younger, the thin, white line had become nothing more than a passing thought throughout the years, but now, watching your chin wobble slightly as you tried to find the words, it felt like the most important information he had.

“I just… Billy grazed over it, you know? He doesn't even know it's there, but… I see it every morning, and it makes me… It makes me sick. And then I realize that I’m so lucky that all that monster did was leave a scar because, for all we know, it ripped Barb apart. But I… I just hate it, and I hate that fucking Demogorgon, and I hate that I will forever have that reminder on my body. ”

Wiping your eyes with the comforter, you shook your head, “I’m sorry. It’s so fucking stupid.”

“When I was seven, my Dad tried to teach me how to ride a bike,” his words were enough to pull you from your downfall, tear-filled eyes finally connecting with his, “he gave up pretty quickly, didn’t like it when I wasn’t automatically good at something. Every afternoon after school, for like, a whole week, I’d force myself back out on that bike. I knew I had to learn because I had to prove my Dad wrong.”

Your eyes remained on him, feeling comfort from his warm, soft gaze, even if his sudden switch in conversation had thrown you through a loop, “What happened?”

“I fell off, busted my knee on the driveway. Got a pretty badass scar myself-”

“-Harrington-”

“-But, I kept going. Picked myself up, dusted myself off, and carried on. And then one afternoon, I just… I did it. Pushed off and sailed down the street.”

Sniffling a little, you watched him with a furrowed brow, “Does this story have a point, or are you just trying to send me to sleep?”

The shadow of a smirk tugged at the side of his lips, but he did his best to repress it, “What I’m trying to say is… Actually, I don’t really know what I’m trying to say. But I do know that your scar, it might be a reminder of all the shit that went down last year, but it also shows that you survived it, came out the other end, you know? And you shouldn’t… You shouldn’t care about what anything thinks about it, especially not Hargrove.”

Blinking away the tears that had settled along your lash line, you remained silent as you watched the boy watching you. Never in your wildest dreams would you expect Steve Harrington — Hawkins's own knockoff version of Tom Cruise, if you asked him at least — to be the one to comfort you over a deep-rooted insecurity. You’d heard the ways his gaggle of friends would loudly mock other students — yourself included on occasion — everything from their hair to their music taste, the acne on their forehead to the braces that lined their teeth. Like sharks, they were able to smell insecurity from 3 miles away and didn’t hesitate to go in for the kill.

But from your position on the comfortable bed, peering down at the boy who somehow looked much younger and much older all at the same time, you realized that the Steve Harrington you thought you knew was slowly but surely evolving. A caterpillar that had entered the first stage of metamorphosis. And only time would tell if he came out a moth or a butterfly.

[gacha-incels]

Video Anon Yet Again

Thank you for not flaying me alive when I sent in my initial ask. You linking the tumblr post and goo's twitter thread helped to refresh my memory.

The first thing I checked in the description was for a link to the sources, but couldn't find one. So a friend reached out on my behalf, as I don't want to publicly "out" myself. I'll keep you updated if/when the drive owner gets back to my friend.

I've been trying my best to stay educated on the ripples indirectly caused by PM's firing of vellmori, as well as learning about the societal causes that lead to the huge gender gap in SK. I feel like part of the reason of the west's easy dismissal of the whole controversy is partially because the things Korean women fight for, are rights westerners take for granted/see as a given.

I will say though, trying to keep up with all of the news and how they were caused by PM does wear down at my mental state. I know it's important to care, and I know staying informed and informing others is one of the best ways to do that; but honestly speaking, I've been so worn down by all the other garbage from my micro and mesosystems/local politics, that I'm exhausted trying to stay afloat in my day to day life, and I'm unable to muster energy to try and advocate for women on the other side of the planet. I still try my best to stay informed (and your blog really helps with it, when I'm in a mind space where I can think more about these things), but its definitely frustrating/uphill battle trying to correct misinfo.

Personally speaking, I still have very complicated feelings regarding PM's actions and their IP, that i'm still trying to navigate/sort through since personal feelings aren't as black and white as the internet often makes it out to be.

Thank you for being a good resource aggregate that keeps track of everything that's happened since then, and thank you for being open to inform and discuss some of the things I brought up prior.

no problem, sorry if I come across as a person who would flay someone alive for asking a question, I thought I just wrote kind of bluntly lol tbh it's hard when you're not speaking to someone face to face.

in regards to stressing yourself out over learning this information I'll post my thoughts.

There's no reason to repeatedly expose yourself to disturbing news like this if it's affecting your mental and physical health. Completely burning yourself out mentally reading things online in some sort of kind, sympathetic but ultimately misguided solidarity doesn't do anything. maybe you'll feel like you really did something dramatic because your health has taken a serious toll in a short amount of time from reading, but these issues aren't flash in the pan. they didn't start in the past year and unfortunately they won't stop in the near future. on the ground level of advocacy we need consistency and stamina. at some point it becomes arrogant to think you can learn absolutely everything about a complex societal issue from another country by overwhelming yourself with information online. it's important to take action when needed and you don't need to understand decades of complex politics to protest pressing issues regarding misogyny, racism, colonialism et al. obviously. acts like protest, boycotting, mutual aid, strikes, walk outs, disruptions, and other street tactics are extremely important to a movement and typically require more immediate action. that's not what I'm referring to with any of this so please do not misunderstand. the average person learning things online needs to be consistent more than they need to totally stress themselves out trying to take in years worth of information within a week. in the long run you could develop fear and anxiety around reading news like this and completely avoid it, in the short run the stress will begin to negatively affect your health. this isn't going to help anyone. Learning your own mental limits is legitimately one of the most important things anyone can start doing, this is also something that doesn't happen overnight. it's a process. this will also give you the confidence to understand how much information you can take in and you won't feel as if you need to explain yourself to strangers online if you feel guilty about not doing more. I'm not saying you're doing this but I have seen it quite frequently and it begins to disturb me. It's dangerous because you're putting your self worth in the hands of a stranger, it's like a secular confession booth. you can get confidence from learning and speaking with others but none of this happens overnight and it's not something you can rush. understanding the amount of information you can take in to stay informed isn't the same thing as closing your eyes completely towards it. this entire thing is a process, maybe in a year I'll disagree with what I've written but this is how I look at it now. I'm glad this small blog can be helpful and as always I wholeheartedly thank those posting the information that I repost here and I will continue posting what I can in solidarity with the women in South Korea.

[crystalsenergy]

Self demands (an attempt at how to deal with this, and a genuine transmission of understanding 🌿🌼)

Whether it comes from you to yourself or from others, demands are something that can greatly affect a person's psychological well-being. And often, it's difficult not to be affected.

Living, dealing with my life, getting to know other people, I realized that all of us will feel some kind of pressure at some point in life.

I see demands as something dangerous for a person's mental health, which can make them feel weak, powerless, incapable.

The way we react to it is unique, it's ours. We cannot define a standard reaction to these things because each person reacts differently. But I believe that we can always handle it differently, better for ourselves. And, of course, this way will vary from person to person.

➥ Self-demands

Many times, the demand doesn't even come from outside but from within. And in these cases, I believe we can control the situation more.

I used to be a person who demanded too much of myself, who wanted to achieve perfection in everything and was upset if I didn't reach it, if everything didn't turn out perfect. Until I learned that seeking perfection is exhausting, especially depending on what you're doing.

There are specific phases of our lives that seem like we cannot escape demands. Adolescence is the main one. Parents, school, and society itself place a series of obligations on your shoulders, a lot of times, it's the consequence of their projections on youth. It's really hard. But what I often see are people who, in addition to the pressure from outside, also pressure themselves. And that's very harmful.

As someone who has been through all of this, I strongly advise you to make sure that at least one of the demands doesn't exist. The external one will be there, and you already need to control/try to handle how it will affect you.

So let's try to understand why we demand things from ourselves and how to handle it better. Okay?

First of all, we need to clarify that: ›› Demanding too much of oneself is not the best way to achieve a good result.

➥ Overcoming oneself and others

Many of the thoughts of those who demand too much have to do with the desire to overcome oneself, to surpass one's own limits. Always wanting more from oneself, for you, it's never enough, you never get there. Because you have to work more and more. Overcoming oneself usually has to do with some standard or specific person(s) that have been set in mind as a profile to be followed. But why do people generally have this thought?

➥ Comparisons, influences of personal life history, and what was taught

Many times, excessive demands may be related to what was taught to you as you were growing up. School, family, the outside itself. Ideas that you need to surpass others to be valued, to be considered better. Some comparisons made since childhood: children in schools being seen and compared according to grades and performances, or at home taught by parents that they need to surpass others to be well-regarded.

These thoughts are very misguided, and if they don't cause problems at that age, they can generate frustrations later, in adolescence, for example. What is even worse if we stop to think about it: it's during adolescence that you receive even more demands to carry.

➥ Self-demands to be well Another thing that unfortunately is taught to us is how we should always force ourselves to be well, always smile, sometimes even pretend a good mood and well-being that we are not feeling at all.

With life [and with Psychology too], I learned that hiding things is even worse. Hiding from others is also hiding from oneself. I understand that there are places and people that it's not worth telling how we are feeling; but it's two different things:

Not telling everything to everyone

VS. Pretending to be well

All feelings exist to be lived.

It's like phases that you really need to experience because otherwise, you won't move forward.

It's as if we need to go through the pain, understand it, and of course, seek help from others and within ourselves to get out of it.

Self-demanding to be well soon will never bring benefits.

You really start to see yourself as inferior for not smiling, living life the way others do. And here comes the same teaching that applies to demands in things like school: do not compare.

You live a moment, and people live other moments. Each of us has our own time.

You have smiled a lot and had happy days; you are not just suffering. And in your happy days, there were also sad people going through bad phases. Therefore, each of us has our own moment. Whether good or bad, it must be lived. Do not compare.

➥ Tasks and more tasks

Many people fill themselves with tasks believing that they will be able to fulfill all of them. This also generates many frustrations and can gradually end up with mental health and self-esteem too.

➥ What can happen

These attitudes and thoughts directed at oneself can generate feelings of anxiety and guilt. Anxiety to do more and more things and surpass oneself (which is terrible because you don't live in the moment, you live in anxiety to do one thing after another). Guilt for not being able to do more tasks.

I have been very frustrated with self-demands. It was the vestibular phase, and I was under pressure. School, prep course, relatives. People, in general, put pressure, saying, 'if she doesn't pass…' Expectations also generate demands. The ideal is to allow the person to live their own time.

I also wanted to embrace the world, do several things at the same time. For those on the outside, that was right. "Look up to her, [Name]." "Do it like her, several things at the same time." But no, we need to know how to choose what we are going to do, how we are going to do it.

When you choose to embrace the world =

you put many responsibilities on yourself, overload yourself, and blame yourself a lot for not being able to do all your tasks. And obviously, you won't be able to: you fill yourself with things to do and still seek perfection. There is no time or energy for everything to go this way.

➥ How to deal with it

Calm down, not everything is lost, and things can work out.

Changing habits and deconstructing these thoughts is very important.

Seek help.

Try therapy, healing frequencies available in places like YouTube, relaxing music (music has immense power!), Solfeggio frequencies, binaural frequencies, and not only with a focus on "concentration, learning", because none of this will serve if the foundation of your being is not based on a minimum of self-respect and a search for internal harmony. No one can endure eternal self-demand without succumbing.

Important message: you can and will live your life well. If you demand a lot from yourself today, there is a way out of it. Don't feel bad for demanding from yourself, don't blame yourself. Try to change gradually, take it easy on yourself, live your time, be kind to yourself. And deconstruct the thoughts: perfectionism masks benefits, in the short term and initially, you may perceive this as something good, but in the long run, the downsides prevail.

➥ Have real goals for your routine!

It's no use getting overwhelmed with tasks. Be realistic, define for yourself only what you have the possibility to accomplish in your day.

➥ Do. not. compare. ₊˚.

Everyone has their own pace. Everyone has their own time. Each person will get there in their own time. You are not worse for "still" being here. There is no "still" because you are not behind in anything. Respect your time and be kind to yourself. It's what you deserve.

Do not rush, do not get frustrated.

Detach yourself from others, from standards, from what is required of you in the environments you live in. You are not your demands.

Life is not a race.

"Stop running for nothing, You don't need to have a dream that anyone dreams." "You don't need to follow someone else's dream. Create and chase after your own."

[kanekuran]

Life Update & Changes

So much has changed in the last few months, but years really. A lot of things happened in just under a year that it's been hard to keep up with. When I first made the decision to shelve Kane, I was in a very vulnerable position.

I'll be real with the followers that remain here. But my mom suffered a heart attack last January and most of my time and brain power revolved around caring for her. She had a double bypass and she was weak, so fucking weak that getting out of bed, bathing and even sitting upright was a struggle for her. I never in a million years thought I'd have to care for my own mother that way, but I did. Even though I was mentally exhausted and even suffered physical exhaustion, I wouldn't change it. She's here, she's still here with us making new memories.

That same year, I got married on the Disney Wish to my longtime boyfriend/fiance of 13 years last November. It was a dream come true, and we've made so many memories with each other as a couple and our friends and family.

And, just this last two weeks my mom was hospitalized again with a bad kidney infection. She's still here recovering but it was another health scare that we thought we'd lose her again. We're grateful and happy that she's here with us and able to create memories not just with us, but with her grandson, my nephew.

I know this is just skimming through everything that's happened. But I want to reiterate that there was so much going on in my personal life that trying to fix or change Kane was making me feel more exhausted and like a failure. I didn't feel good enough to do the things I wanted to do with him.

So I'm planning on redoing some of his backstory stuff in regards to his involvement with the Council. Whether I remake it or just remove it entirely, I'm not entirely certain yet. The leader of the Council and I had a falling out years ago and I never really knew what to do with Kane in regards to that. So that's just something I'll have to think of and see what I can do with it, or just remove it. We'll see how it goes, but I'm planning on bringing Kane back out, giving him some fresh air and strawberry buttercream cupcakes, because let's face it. He's not Kane without his cupcakes.

I've lost friends when my mom first got sick and some more afterwards. But I've gained so many more. I'm currently in a place where I'm not so worried, but still thinking of my mom's health. But I'm happier. I've mentioned this before, but I'm happier. So much has happened, both good and bad. But I'm in a better spot.

I hope your day has been well for those who read this and wish you all the very best.

❧ Kane Mun

[rin-and-jade]

So, uh.. what do we.. I mean I.. okay, well shit.

I'll start by explaining that I have slight(very big and annoying) memory issue. Like, "what month is it ? How old am I? Why is my hair so long ?" Type of issues. Meaning that I have no decent explanation to this and it could all be random stuff I'm making up w/ realizing it. So. Yeah.

..I'm not sure what I am- in the sense that a few years ago, our brain tried to stick us all together again to form a normal pre-teen. Well, more or less- I'm really not sure at this point. And, due to outside circumstances, it failed. But not completely, oh no no. Partially. Meaning that we're.. something. Never fully a person, never fully separate. Like a very unhappy puddle of oobleck. That changes color, gender and age every few hours on average. But not ever completely ! There's always that underlying current of murky brown, making it so that said oobleck always looks and feels pretty much the same. Whilst not. Also, memory loss ! Fun.

Though, Most of the time I(we ? It ? pronouns are hard) I(well, not me because it's actually not me but we have the same memory and speech patterns and skills so me ? But not. Kill me, please.) Feel like a wave- just a feeling, a vague observer drifting by, waiting for when they crash on the coast and the next wave comes in, always so similar yet different.

It's not fun. I don't know what to do. I don't.. I just don't. Honestly, trying to correctly explain our situation in words feels impossible.

But, yeah, I know you probably won't have any tips or know anybody who's been in a similar situation, but if you do, please, ignore our rudeness(we have weird, indistinct rules in place that quite literally stop us from saying the stuff I need to say directly. This is me doing my best to avoid them. It's probably incomprehensible, but I really don't have any other way to do so.) and answer with them ? I apologize- I'm sorry if this is the wrong place(..and way. Definitely the wrong way.) To ask, and for bothering you either way.

Anyways, I'm sorry for what you've just read and i hope you have a good day

Good timezone wherever you are. This ask sure took a lot of effort out of you didn't it? No worries, i still can comprehend what you are describing, i appreciate the attempt despite struggling. Let's start:

Thankfully you are in the right place, i can answer every system questions people throw at me so far,, i don't know anyone in a similar situation other than my own experience and a friend of mine--i will apply those to your answer here! What you're feeling now, is being blended.

Have things been happening badly these days? Maybe are you exhausted? Or sick? Your physical health contributes to how well you function as a system internally, if this seems to be the case then my advice is to tackle those issues as first priority.

I read that there was an attempt for your brain to merge other parts of yourselves together but got stuck mid way.. below this sentence, i will write the steps for you to incorporate into your daily lives in hopes of easing the disruptive and annoying state you're in:

Find out what's going on Is it your physical health affecting it? Or is your mental health? The experiences you've described also has clear signs on dissociating or disconnecting both of yourself and the world. If it's not a physical issue, then im writing this one at step 2

Ground back It's best you have lots of rest, affirm your anxiety or worries regarding this issue--trust yourself and have faith in the process, and do grounding techniques as well as vagus nerve practices.

Keep track of everything As you're prone to forgetting due to memory issues, it's best you write all, and recheck all your previous notes to tackle the amnesia. Creating a note that has all your important information written down will help reduce the stress and confusion in the future.

Slowly work on it Be it a physical, mental, or any other issues, it's best to go slow instead of rushing, and focus on the process rather than the results and expectations. I trust you to be flexible and adapt or improvise from this current plan. Always take notes and see how things are improving or not, the internet is filled with lots of resources out there!

This is what i have so far, as i cannot find the main reason for your current troubles other than presented signs of dissociation, blendedness and memory issues. Here is the link to my post about blend (along with it's other pals) and here is the link to my post on types of amnesia to give a head start, lastly an alter guide with questions and orientation (not intended for blurry or blended folks, but gives a foundation to understand which 'you' are you now). Feel free to continue this conversation at my DMs if you need further help, see you!

- j

[baddingtonbitch]

pls tell us ur thoughts on veganism (#2 from the ask thing)

my thoughts are good! i've been exclusively plant based before for years and i had a largely good experience with it, and i think it's a great thing to do for people who want to and are able but i also completely understand not wanting to. i also think it very often gets made out to be something it's not, but every diet and lifestyle has adherents who are kinda...deranged and misrepresent it. there are people who hate vegans for very stupid reasons and there are also vegans who are very hateable for very good reasons that are not their diet (usually extremely problematic influencers) but like, vegans aren't monolithic so it can all get pretty frustrating and exhausting to witness the media try to come to some singular conclusion about a huge movement and massive number of people based on a really myopic view of very loud and bad examples.

like anti-vegan raw meat fitness bros and shithead podcasters who antagonise vegans are putrid but so are the vegans who view themselves as morally bulletproof for loving animals while being very privileged, out of touch and racist, wearing plastic fur and leather, shaming people in food deserts or referring to sustainable and traditional practices of indigenous cultures as "barbaric".

it's also not a miracle cure or protective spell against cancer and people who tout it as one are fucking cunts. there's a few public figures here in australia who have done a lot to make vegans look completely insane, saying it will cure anything from covid to brain cancer or smearing themselves in blood and shrieking at people in restaurants. but then there are also always people who are eager to denigrate everyday vegans for nothing at all.

but in my own experience i've never really gotten into any irl discourse with anyone about it, every vegan i've known personally was very normal about it and so was i when it was a part of my life. the people who make asses out of themselves on either side duking it out online and in the media in some kind of eternal hot take battle clearly have bigger issues than what they do or don't put in their mouths and on their bodies. they mostly have a lot of misplaced anger or shame or really any combination of vitriol and distress and this is one of the hills they've chosen to loudly die on as a coping mechanism. at the end of the day their main issue is that they haven't made peace with the limits of their own influence and their sphere of control and it's broken their brains so the anti-vegans hatefully obsess over people not eating bacon and the unhinged self-appointed ambassadors of veganism do reprehensible shit like comparing eating animals to the holocaust. like when piers morgan interviewed tash peterson i wanted the studio to collapse and kill them both lol

in my own experience, my own circle and my own day to day life it has been a primarily positive thing. the main negative i've experienced and the reason i'm not currently exclusively plant based (or exclusively anything) is that following any kind of specific or rule based diet has triggered a relapse into disordered eating for me in the past. that's a whooooole different conversation for another time lol but i'll just say that the vast majority of what i eat now is plant based, and when it comes to the fraction of my diet that isn't, i'm not going to guilt myself over it. while i can't claim to be doing EVERYTHING i can, i'm doing as much as i can while prioritising my mental health and enjoyment of life and i'm a lot healthier now doing that, physically and mentally, than i was when i was a raw vegan letting the concepts of morality and purity and right and wrong in regards to food trigger me into a greenwashed relapse.

i also have the awareness to know that my subjective experience with that pitfall is not the fault of vegan philosophy, just a distortion of it peddled by "wellness" culture that i was particularly susceptible to given my past experiences. and besides, charlatans are not exclusive to veganism, the people on tiktok spruiking raw liver diets and borax smoothies also claim to be doing it in the pursuit of some nebulous ideal of "wellness" so....

basically in conclusion i still personally see the value in being as plant based as i can feasibly and comfortably be, but my relationship to food has been so complex and difficult in the past that i'm ok with pursuing something i see as worthwhile without allowing shame or pursuit of perfection to factor in. and i've also got enough going on with my own relationship to food that i don't really care what anyone else puts in their mouths. if you're vegan or not, just do what you feel is right and what works for you and makes you happy. regardless of my own feelings on veganism and my own history and future with it, everyone and anyone else's diet is firmly outside of my jurisdiction and none of my business. we've seen how trying to dictate the dietary choices of other people has made both pro and anti vegan people become crazy assholes so let's just focus on our own choices because that's all any of us can really control.

(oh my god i didn't mean to write you a novel but all these thoughts just spilled out lol, sorry for the text wall and thank u for asking! <3<3)

[paranormaljones]

in the latest revelations of Stuff I Probably Need To Work Out With A Therapist, i have found that i radically, paradoxically hate when people (but most especially my mother) help me when i clearly genuinely do need help but have not asked for it. and i usually don't ask for it because i hate doing so.

i didn't grow up in a household where help was freely given. i grew up in a "do it yourself" household. if i asked for help i was often met with a very stressful, unkind push to figure it out for myself, or i was made to feel inferior for needing help at all. the mindsets of "asking for help will worsen your situation" and "needing help is an unforgivable sign of inferiority" were ingrained in me from the get-go.

and i think i hate it most when my mother in particular offers to help me because she was largely the one who instilled those beliefs in me. so i find it hard to trust the heart behind her offers. i can readily admit that she has gotten kinder over the years, but i have not yet unlearned what she imparted to me. the other day she kindly offered to help me sort through/clean up the massive pile of clothes in my room that i have been too exhausted from work to deal with, and i was shocked at how immediately i internally resisted the idea of letting her help me. i wasn't unkind to her, i just turned down her offer and said i could deal with it on my own. but this isn't the first time i have refused her or someone else's help, in fact it happens frequently.

i think partly my resistance to it also comes from the fact that i very obviously needed help regarding mental health issues when i was younger and by and large did not receive it from my family in any measure, despite multiple pleas that i be put in counseling. so now i feel like i have to prove my independence after being forced into it.

[peoplcshope]

all about health meme / accepting / @amitsuma

stress & mind!

stress: does my muse handle stress well? what is a surefire sign for others to tell that they’ve become stressed? how does stress affect them mentally / physically? 

I can’t say that Trunks handles stress all that well. But of course it depends on the level of stress. Things regarding housework, or maybe something that’s work-related. Of course he can manage thing like that pretty easily but stress on a disaster level? No, that’s where he succumbs to anger and his first aim through this is to eliminate the cause of that stress. 

Let’s say he has work-related stress and by work I mean his job as a time patroller. Not all missions are easy eats, they don’t get solved with a big bang (attack). Sometimes Trunks would have to request back up from other patrollers and sometimes the breakers would find their way into HIS timeline and try to create a timeline where there are no warriors to defend earth, as far as he knows there has only be one parallel universe that’s cemented into that reality, but when this work piles ontop of him Trunks gets stressed.

You’ll notice his temper would often get the best of him in the smallest situations and he also becomes incredibly intense.

mind: does my muse have any mental conditions that affect their lives? what are they? how do they handle them? what coping methods do they use most? 

Mental conditions? Oh yes he does. He has PTSD that’s he’s developed because of a rather violent upbringing. There are times these episodes keep him from sleeping entirely or from getting a good night’s sleep in the first place. There are times that his PTSD triggers night terrors and THOUGH he’s gotten the sleep he needed, the night terror just saps all of the energy out of him making him feel extremely lethargic throughout the entire day.

Another thing he has is an inferiority complex. This is something he developed because of the tragic losses he’s experienced because of his own inability to stop it. From losing two people to the rest of the entire population (or most of it depending on the verse hint wink.). This will cause him to overwork his body past the point of exhaustion, always doing things over 100% to ensure he or anyone has to deal with his loss ever.

Lastly, you have his abandonment issues. After losing the last person that had meant EVERYTHING to him(which could be Bulma in most verses and someone else in one specifically) Trunks can come off clingy at times during the start of new relationships. He can be overbearing, eager to see all of your priorities met. A quick one to cuddle/smother and the type of person that would always call on the hour to check up on them. Of course this all fade with time, but understand this all stems from the fear of them leaving or worse: dying.

[stuckinapril]

so my aunt introduced this guy to me few weeks ago, we don't really have much in common regarding our likes or dislikes but we have similar opinions on certain things. honestly the thing is, he's nice, polite, respectful and all but i don't feel any attraction for him. I can barely talk to him for an hour or two without thinking that it's getting boring or tedious. I thought maybe my feelings would grow if i give some time or of we start spending time more often but i don't think it's working. Ik i can simply reject him but the thing is my parents know him and they really like him. And my aunt says "love ain't everything" "you need to think about long term stuff" there's always this constant loop of disagreements and it's exhausting me tbh. Idk where I'm going w this but i had to vent this out. I love my parents but i think sometimes they tend to take control of my life. Plus the fact that there's so much on my plate rn bc of job hunting, career decisions etc that my mental health is getting worse.

will your aunt be the one who goes on dates w him? will your parents marry him? have children w him? spend the rest of their lives w him, as i’m guessing they’re insinuating you might? no? then they have absolutely no bearing on what you decide in the end.

idk what your personal goals are. maybe eventually you’d like to be a stay-at-home wife/gf. maybe you see yourself as more of a career woman. maybe you’d like both. either way, rn it seems like you’d very much rather focus on your career. and i can completely understand how a guy does not fit into your plans. you’re not responsible for other people’s feelings; you’re simply responsible to them. never act from a place of being an anxious helper—which is just another way of saying that you’re making decisions out of wanting to appease people, for the sake of calming your own anxiety down.

calm yourself down. detach yourself from the situation. don’t be distressed because your family is distressed. obviously what you’ll decide might have an effect on them, but consider whether “reassuring” them by entertaining this guy is even wise in the long run. you just don’t seem to be into him. it will come up eventually. maybe choose to be neutral about it in the meantime, just to give yourself the space to think in peace, but ultimately i doubt deceiving them into thinking you like him will get you anywhere productive.

just do what’s best for you babe. if you’re not into him, you’re not into him. a negative reaction doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong; it just means the other person is perceiving it in a different way. and that is not your problem

[universestreasures]

@crimsonkaiser​​ (Cause you and I wanted this LOL)

Aichi had been out of the dorms all day attending a study session with Kourin for their final exam coming up. Despite having done well in the class the entire semester so far, the blue-haired student can’t help but be nervous about it. Tests like the ones their professor gave, with being of a ridiculous length with not much time to complete it all, were prone to give anyone anxiety regardless of their grades. It’s why he’s thankful the blonde took the whole day to study with him, making him feel a whole lot better about the whole thing.

As a result of such a long day of hitting the books, Aichi was beyond mentally exhausted as he comes into his dorm room and instantly plops onto the couch he and Kai often sat next to each other. He’s looking forward to a nice relaxing night with his boyfriend cuddling up and watching a movie, playing some games, or even just enjoying each other’s company. He doesn’t have a preference on the activity. All he needed was to spend time with Kai to relax.

However, strangely his boyfriend was nowhere to be seen at all. In fact, since this morning he hasn’t heard from him. No messages. No calls. No nothing. That was...odd. He didn’t have soccer practice. The season was over, after all. Not even Miwa or Ren knew where he was after Aichi asked them as he was coming up.

Strange...

Panic then begins to set in, Aichi scrambling through his bookbag to find his phone to try and call him. He never liked it when Kai went off on his own without telling him. For some reason, he always fear like the worst thing ever is going to happen to him, even though nothing bad usually does. It’s almost like he’s...programmed to react that way, something he just can’t control.

Thankfully, the panic wouldn’t have to last for much longer as he can hear the sounds of the door unlocking. He quickly turns his head towards the direction of the sound, cerulean hues then gazing upon his boyfriend who just walked in. Though, if he was in a better state of mind, he’d surely notice how different his boyfriend looked.

Blue clothes, blue eyes, and an overall ‘softer’ and less intense vibe...He didn’t ‘look’ like Kai at all. It was almost like...he was a different person than he was this morning...

“Oh thank goodness! There you are!” He runs forward into the other’s arms, clinging onto him tightly as if he’d vanish if he let go. Never did he have such a strong grip before, and never did he feel his heart beat so fast... “I was so worried! You didn’t answer my calls or messages! Where were you?!”

He then suddenly hears a sound go off on his phone, an alarm he set earlier that day to remind him of when Kai was due for a refill. This was to make sure Kai didn’t feel the need to the medication or go find his source somewhere else, considering the ‘vegan’ vampire products didn’t seem to work for him unlike Misaki. Aichi is sure he would drink the alternatives if he could, considering how hesitant the other usually was in regards to feeding from him. 

Arms are then released from the man clad in blue’s torso. A hand grips at the end of his white jacket sleeve, pulling it up to reveal his skin with some marks of previous feedings being on his arm. Kai no doubt was as gentle as he could be when it came to this sort of thing, but the marks of it remained. Aichi is thankful he hasn’t had to go to the doctors in a while cause well...that be hard to explain.

“You can tell me everything after you feed, okay? Your health comes first.” 

~

[theawakenedstate]

Welcome to the Spring Clean Your Mind Challenge! It’s officially Mental Health Awareness Month and I wanted to do something different and fun for the Community.

I’m a pretty strong advocate for Mental wellness, I teach it for a living and one of my passions is helping people Empower Their Mindset so they increase their self-esteem, confidence and begin believing in themselves. In fact the Planner I recently released: The Spiritual Awakened Life Planner is built around Helping you with your Mental and Emotional Wellness on the pursuit of going after your own Goals.

Why Am I so Passionate about Mindset and Mental Health? I used to struggle a lot with my Mental and Emotional Health. I had a lot of self-projected hate towards myself where I lacked severe compassion, kindness and encouragement to myself. I would more likely criticize myself, beat myself up and be incredibly hard on myself when it came to well anything, creative projects, chores around the house, being a parent, being in college, etc. etc. I’ve done sooo much work in this area. While i still have bouts of Self-doubt or negative self-talk, i am WORLDS APART from who i used to be.

What was the start of it all?

GRATITUDE and MINDSET SHIFTS 😉

In this Challenge I wanted to give you a behind-the-scenes taste of what it’s like to start making small tweaks to your Mindset for your personal Wellness.

Maybe you already do some of these exercises, awesome!

A lot of people though, shy away from their Mindset especially when it comes to going after their goals or even manifesting. Society often teaches us to ‘work hard’, physically exert ourselves and push past our limits as long as we reach our goals. In the same regard, we have personal development teaching us that growth is about ‘suffering’ and ‘digging into your pain’ to find the healing that’s necessary. I don’t think it’s necessarily about ‘not doing the work’ but it can be a slippery slope if we’re not careful, to have these two concepts damaging our Mental Health without us even realizing it. It’s sneaky and creeps in!

But what if, there’s a whole other side of Mental Health that we’re missing?

What about the space where instead of focusing on how we need to fix ourselves or do a lot of shadow work – we also realize that naturally raising our vibrations is about Emotionally Empowering our Mindset with Absolute Encouragement and Self-Belief?! Listen,

Your Mental health should be your #1 Priority. However, it doesn’t have to be such a drag to do this type of work of personal development and growth. Growth is a lot more than just ‘pushing through pain’, it’s also about backing yourself and building yourself up by honoring where you’re at in the moment.

Instead, it should be FUN, Focusing more on What naturally helps you raise your vibration, Gets you Back into your Body, Empowers you to Stay Present Minded and Grounded in Who you truly Are.

And that’s what this new challenge is about.

Welcome to the Spring Clean Your Mind Challenge!

Did you know that having too much clutter mentally affects your health? Also Sometimes too much clutter can even LEAD to more Mental Clutter! When we Feel more Mentally cluttered we tend to feel more fear, stress, overwhelm or general exhaustion. This overload on your mindset can stop you living your best life! So Let’s Start Cleaning up your Mental Clutter over the course of 25 days this upcoming Spring. (Or if you live in the Southern hemi – Make it a Fall Detox hehe 😉 )

The Spring Clean your Mind Challenge is focused on Helping you detox Your life and Mindset for less stress, overwhelm and smashing out the fear-mind

It’s time to reduce your Mental load and Feel Lighter, raising vibe and start creating space for new growth in Spring

How it Works For the next 25 Days – Pick one Goal each day to do for the next 25 days to boost your dopamine and Mindset for better mental health.

These Exercises are Rooted in helping you:

+ Get More Present and Consciously Aware

+ Shift Your Mindset Easily

+ Focus more on the Good in your Life

+ Nurture both your Mental Wellness and Your Body Awareness

+ Get you Back into your Body where you surrender the monkey mind(ego 🙈)

+ Teach you about the Subtle power behind Mindset!

DOWNLOAD YOUR CALENDAR PDF HERE

Also You may need some reinforcement so Some Days are marked ** You can resource back to the Youtube or Podcast for More Learning lessons on mindset and Meditations to help you!

You also can Share the Journey with us in our Mighty Networks Group! Or Tag us on Social media at @awakenedstate777 with hashtag #springcleanmymindchallenge

Most Importantly – Have fun!!!

Here’s a Video Introducing the Challenge, my thoughts on Mental Health & Personal Growth:

Video

Are you in??! Let us know in the comments!

P.S. Desiring More Support with Mental health? Check out The Spiritual Awakened Life Digital Planner! Most People Don’t realize the MASSIVE power behind Tracking, especially when it comes to building up your self-Awareness and Becoming more Conscious of your Mental health.

Over the Years I’ve really brought my spiritual practice outside of the box and I think Mind-Body Rituals while keeping in check with your Mental Health is incredibly nourishing to your self-esteem.

I think it’s funny we don’t see that taking time for these SIMPLE things instead of Mindlessly scrolling are the BIG THINGS that fuel our Awareness and Mental Wellness.

Such As Checking in on:

+ your Spiritual Practice – Is it nourishing you or is it a chore?

+ Your Self – Care – Are you making time for pause, rest and revitalization

+ Your Mindset – Do you process your thoughts, emotions by journaling, venting in healthy ways or typing them out on a computer? OR Do you also look at your negative thoughts and look at how you can reframe them or Recognize what you’re putting out to the universe?

+ Your DAILY JOY – Do you take the time do things that naturally make you happy, give you inspiration, empower you, give you confidence or simply because you love them, like i love decorating!

+ Creativity – Do you express yourself authentically?

+ Do you get enough Sleep?

+ are you drinking enough water?

+ Are you Active with your Body on a daily Basis?

+ Do you have mental health walks or Movement breaks?

+ Do you know what you’re eatting?

In the spiritual awakened life planner there are different sections on how you can track your mental wellness through your holistic health and your Mental/Physical Health.

_

While it seems insignificant – most people are not CONSCIOUS of their repeated habits/actions.

One of the easiest ways to build up conscious awareness is to get more CONSCIOUS of your day-to-day actions and ask yourself: Are they healthy? Are they fulfilling me? Am I happy? and if not,

then it’s time to reroute, reinvent and review (mercury retrograde style )

Get your Own Digital Copy of the Spiritual Awakened Life Planner now in the Shop! Available in both Midnight Edition and Unicorn. Head to the website to check it out

The perfect compliment for Mental Health Awareness Month.

>>> The Spiritual Awakened Life Planner: Unicorn or Midnight Edition >>>

https://www.theawakenedstate.net/spring-clean-your-mind-challenge/

Spring Clean Your Mind Challenge

Welcome to the Spring Clean Your Mind Challenge! It’s officially Mental Health Awareness Month and I wanted to do something different and fun for the Community. I’m a pretty strong advocate for Mental wellness, I teach it for a living and one of my passions is helping people Empower Their Mindset so they increase their […]