#when i smoke i focus better and the suicidal ideations stop for an hour. i do it for an hour of relief. that’s it.

[starstaiined]

Memories

SUMMARY: All Kat ever wanted was a normal life. A life unhindered by the trauma she faced, a life where raised voices didn’t send her heart racing, a life where any accidental contact with strangers didn’t violently thrust her into memories she would give anything to forget. But as more and more memories of past lives begin to surface on top of her existing trauma, that dream seems to move farther and farther away. Suddenly the weight of worlds settled on fragile shoulders, and then the cost of escaping it all didn’t seem so high...

TW: Sexual abuse, anxiety attack, depression, suicidal ideation

TAGGING : @tonight-we-are-live (bc ur the one who asked for angst tonight)

   Hands inched up her thigh, and she didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Katherine laid still, petrified, as the man hovering above her whispered an array of words she couldn’t process. His face, half hidden by shadows, seemed to shift endlessly. First, it was Mannox. His lips twitched into a too sharp smile, which stayed in place even as the rest of his face changed. Some dude with long blonde hair and striking blue eyes came next, a memory from a different life she was sure. Another man, this time with stubble which scratched the side of her face when he leaned close. “I love you so much, Katherine.” When he pulled back, he had changed again. This time it was Dereham’s face. His eyes darkened and shifted to a brown so dark it was nearly black, his nose so small it was nearly non existent. After a few more seconds of shifting, it finally settled on him. Thomas Culpeper. “I love you, Katherine.” As he smiled up at her, she finally managed to scream. His hand shot forward, covering her mouth roughly. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” He squeezes so tightly she’s sure her jaw is going to bruise, and her eyes burn with tears...

   And suddenly Katherine shoots awake in bed. She’s covered in sweat, her heart pumping harder than it did after a show. She can’t stop the sob that escapes her throat, a stifled thing that gets stuck halfway through and comes out as an almost whine. Anne shifts in the bed next to her. It takes everything in Kat to hold in the building storm. She doesn’t want to wake her cousin, or the other queens. She doesn’t want to bother them. Quiet as her namesake, she slips on a pair of slippers and creeps out of the room. She needs out. The walls of the house are suddenly stifling, and without pausing to so much as grab a sweater she disappears through the arched doorway. 

   The winter air nips painfully at her exposed skin, but in truth it helps ground her. If she focus on the pain of the cold, then she doesn’t have to think about the images filling her head. Memories, memories, memories. They came back slowly, each one materializing like smoke over an extinguished candle, wrapping around her and dragging her further and further away from recovery. In some ways, it was almost funny: she’d lived hundred of different lives in hundreds of different places, yet the story was always the same. She couldn’t escape it even if she tried. (And oh, how she tried.) She let out a scoff at that, running a hand roughly through her hair. The cold isn’t keeping her thoughts at bay any longer, and if she thinks about them for another second she’ll end up crying. As is, tears prick the edges of her eyes. She rubs at them roughly, and makes a decision. Run. It starts off as a jog, but it builds and soon she’s flying down the sidewalks and turning corners at full speed, the feel of her feet pumping underneath her cathartic. 

   She ran until her aching muscles couldn’t move anymore, at which point she all but collapsed on a park bench. Kat was sure of one thing: she was thoroughly lost. She’d spent the last hour running, not paying attention to where she turned. It’s only now that she regrets that choice. She wants to go home...she wants to talk to Anne and hug Jane and laugh with Anna. She could call them, they would come and find her and...and you’d wake them up for your own selfish reasons. A little voice in the back of her mind finished; it’s that voice that makes her hand freeze in place. Always so needy. Always tugging at their sleeves and making them bend to your will. It’s all about Kat, isn’t it? The voice continues to prod, and Kat’s hands begin to shake. She curls them into fists, letting her nails bite into her palm, but it does nothing to ease the voice this time. It’s why Mannox could never love you. It’s why Dereham left. It’s why Henry was always angry. You ask for too much, Katherine. You are too much. They would be better off without you. 

   Some part, deep down, protests. But the rest of her is all too willing to accept what the voice said. After all, it was true. If she wasn’t around, they wouldn’t have to tread so lightly around her. She remembered the time Jane has squeezed her shoulder gently after they’d first met, before they were close, remembered the way the sudden and unexpected contact has caused Kat to spiral into an anxiety attack. Her stomach rolls at the memory. It had been a kind gesture, but she’d overreacted. She remembers suddenly the way Jane had spent the next couple of weeks apologizing. After that incident, Jane had never looked at her the same way. None of them had. They handled her with kid gloves, always soft and kind and understanding, but also wary. Cautious. As if they were scared that if they said or did something wrong, Kat would shatter. What she hated most was that they were right. The smallest thing could send her hurtling back to a different time and leave her trembling and unable to speak. She loathed herself in that moment. Everyone else spent so much time and energy making sure she was okay, if she just disappeared things would be so much easier on them. 

   In an almost trance, she rises and begins to wander. She’s disconnected from reality at this point. When she reaches the bridge, the idea slips into her mind. In truth...it’d been there longer than she cared to admit. But now....now it’s real. It’s like watching a show happen on the television. Kat watches her hands grab onto the railing, watches as she swings her legs over and sits on the side. Her feet dangle precariously over the rushing river below. All she had to do was lean forward just a little and ... 

   Her phone rang. She ignored it. It rang again. And again. Finally, she reaches for it with shaking fingers. She answers it, and Jane’s worried voice comes bursting to life. “Kitty, where are you?” 

  “I don’t know.” Kat answered, her voice sounding dead to her own ears. 

  She can hear shuffling on the other end of the phone, and mumbled words she can’t quite catch. (Not that she’s trying. She’s too numb to try.) 

  “Kit, honey, are you okay?” She can hear the rising concern in Jane’s tone, and it makes something stir in her chest. But as quickly as the feeling surfaced, it’s gone. She shrugged, not answering Jane’s question. 

  She can hear scuffling on the other end, and when the next question comes it’s Anne’s voice. “Kat, babe, do you remember the time we went ice skating?” That story had always drawn a groan or a protest out of Kat, but this time she gives no response. If Anne is worried, she doesn’t let it show. She continues on rambling about various memories, Jane chiming in occasionally. Kat doesn’t laugh....but she doesn’t hang up either. 

  Eventually, however, she hears her name being called. She turns and looks to find....Anna, Cathy, and Catherine. The looks on their faces — horror, panic, and fear — finally snaps Kat out of her haze. She realizes what she was about to do. Tears well in her eyes, and her mouth opens to provide an excuse, a defense, anything, but nothing comes out. 

  Anna is the first to speak. “Kitty, can you come off the ledge, please? Slowly, please be careful.” 

  Kat listens, and once her feet are on solid ground she’s enveloped by the other three queens. 

  “Jesus Christ, Kat, you’re freezing.” Aragon huffed, pulling off her sweater and wrapping it around the younger girl. 

  The sudden warmth made her realize just how cold she’d been. Slowly, she manged to croak out a question. “How did...how did you guys find me?” 

  Cathy answered, slowly, as they walked her back to the car. “We traced your phone. Anne and Jane were supposed to keep you on the line while we went out to pick you up.” The drive home is in silence. 

  When they finally reach the house, Anne nearly crushes her in a hug. The other three queens quietly talk to Jane about what they’d found while Anne fussed over her younger cousin. Then, they switched. Jane fussed over Kat while Aragon talked to Anne. 

   Cathy had disappeared into the kitchen to make hot cocoa, and Anna had dug around until she found some of Kat’s favorite movies. While Aragon talked to Anne, Jane had buried a shivering Katherine in a pile of blankets.

   Once everyone finished their tasks, they reconvened on the couch. Kat sat at the center of the rest of the girls, five pairs of eyes trained on her. finally, Anne broke the silence. 

  “Kit, you know you can always talk to us, right?” It was soft, perhaps softer than she had ever heard Anne go before. 

  Kitty let out a shaky breath, looking down. “I didn’t want to bother you.” 

  “You are never bothering us, Kat. Especially not when it comes to something like memories.” Anna whispered, squeezing her hand gently. 

Cathy nodded. “Good, or bad, we’re here. You don’t have to deal with everything alone. No one expects you to, Kat.” 

“You already deal with so much. I’m ... I’m a handful, and-” 

“And we all have two hands.” Aragon interrupted, her voice gentle. “You help us with our issues, Kat, and we’re here to help with yours. And nothing will ever change that.”

“Besides,” Jane added, pulling the youngest girl in close and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, “We do it because we love you, Kitty.” 

Love had always been a dangerous word. Her entire life, the word had been mangled and twisted and corrupted to reflect the worst version of itself. But amidst the tangle of limbs and careful concern, Katherine realized that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t always so bad. 

#(Okay the fluffier ones will come tomorrow bc i am exhausted) #(BUT ALSO CRY W/ ME) #six the musical #six the musical fanfic #katherine howard #(this hurt to write like u do not understand i'm crying rn) #(ANYWAYS ill be back tomorrow) #(peace out) #X. ɪғ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ғɪɴᴅ ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴ ɪ’ʟʟ ᴡᴀʟᴋ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ. ( the six. )

[sundrenched-smilez]

champagne, jazz, lace, perfume, sheet mask

champagne: what topic could you talk about for hours? 

ooh i can think of a couple!!  steven universe i can talk abt for hours on end!! another is smash bros changes in the new game (ive talked abt samus alone for like 10 minutes before!!) all the lil changes r givin me life tbh, i love picking up minor changes between things and theres soooo many : DD for someone who obsesses over that game (in a special interest way) it’s so much to pick apart, and it makes me so happy!!!!! they’re rly breathing life into the characters, and everything looks so much smoother and fluid and alive and i can’t get enough of it 

video games and fashion i can always talk abt!! and worldbuilding especially; i love hashin out details w ppl 

jazz: name a song that resonates with you and your emotions. explain the reason why. 

Rogueport, Town of Theives  is from a rly important game from my childhood n holds so much nostalgia and hits me to my core every time i hear it. the dissonance in the beginning rly signifies how different it is from ur standard mario town!! in the first paper mario, ur mostly centered by toad town, and comparatively, this place is a wreck!! : DD u get robbed within the first hour of the game, and have to make ur way thru crowds and dirty city streets which is Such a stark difference and new environment for u, in a mario game. it’s also just such a unique song?? ive never heard anything like it, and it’s so powerful and envigorating

For Just One Day Let’s Only Think About Love (spoilers. also this video is quiet, i’ll rb a better version if ur interested in listening) is a song that rly wraps up a lot that’s happened in steven universe thru the years, and thru ur journey w these characters. it’s a stunning performance from everyone, and thru the verses it travels from character to character, touching on their arcs and what they’ve been troubled with. pearl doubting and blaming herself for something beyond her control and lying in the past, amethyst figuring out how to think about the person she’s looked up to for so long after seeing her in a different light, and how that’s affecting them all, and peridot, who defied her leaders and helped stop the world from shattering, but still worries abt the diamonds invading.  I love how it kisses all the details of growth in process on the cheek, and reinforces that this sucks, and “we can think about it, we need to think about it, but we can’t hyperfocus and let it eat at us. for just one day, let’s only think about love, and what brings us together, and not everything horrible going on. we deserve that.” and it’s so beautiful!! the way it touchs on mindful thinking lessons from the past, and no longer running from problems or burying them, but letting good things exist too is so important to me.being told that u can think about everything paining you, and still focus on the love between ur and ur friends and their love for each other is an important message to hear w everything that’s going on in the world, and it’s presented so perfectly :~))  

lace: what is something in your life completely different from last year? 

June has been a year since i’ve self harmed, and I dont have those thoughts nearly as frequently!! only when things get really bad, and i’ve not gotten to a point where I was Ready to in a long time. I also dont have as much suicidal ideation!! I’m making friends and talking to ppl more, and that feels nice. I’m not drawing as much, but once I get a desk n junk I’ll be able to fix that, i have a lot of things I want to work on, and strive for so I’m not worried abt that. i’m probably eating more? doin my best to, food stamps help

perfume: if you could make your own signature fragrance, what would it smell like? 

like cats??? cats,,, cats (specifically when u bury ur head gently into the side of ur cat,,,, tbh i just want a cat rly bad but can’t afford one atm) 

bonfire candle, a candle thats all wicks and its very fire and smells like fire smoke

i wanna smell fresh like a forest breeze, on the outskirts of the far ends, it’s masked by the ocean and shore; etheral and otherworldly, yet familar

sheet mask: what’s your favorite lazy activity?

naps in the rain!!! and/or cuddling while napping bc that’s always SO good 

napping in general, i never get enough sleep n naps help

does organizing clothes by color count as lazy?? no but it’s fun and i like it c:

minecraft!!

#abt me #cassette tapes

[kjack89]

Dear Marius Pontmercy, Pt. 1/?

The Dear Evan Hansen AU that no one wanted but me. Purely and completely self-indulgent, because I can.

Currently this is looking like it’ll be four parts. The goal is to update once a week but idk if that’ll actually happen.

Developing Marius/Cosette, semi-unrequited E/R, but the focus is predominantly on friendship. Major character death cw, suicide cw, suicide ideation cw.

Chapter 1 – On the Outside, Always Looking In

“Dear Marius Pontmercy – Today is going to be an amazing day, and here’s why: because today, all you have to do is just be yourself.”

Marius snorted. “Yeah, right.”

He let his hands slip off the keyboard of his laptop, cradling his left arm in his lap, the bulky cast somehow a strange comfort. Be yourself – was there ever a more worthless piece of advice? How could Marius, weird, awkward Marius whose hands sweat too much, especially when he thought of actually making conversation with Cosette, the love of his life who didn’t even know he existed, or worse, Enjolras, who—

Well, who was harder to explain.

If he wanted to have any chance of talking to Cosette, or to Enjolras, he couldn’t just be himself. He would also need to be confident, and interesting, and easy to talk to and all of things that he wasn’t. Which, at the end of the day, sort of defeated the purpose of being himself.

He sighed and looked back down at the mostly empty document on his computer, and lifted his hand to press and hold the backspace button, watching his worthless words disappear. “So did you just decide not to eat last night?”

Marius looked up guiltily at his grandfather, who was smiling at him. “I wasn’t hungry,” Marius told him.

Gillenormand sighed and slowly sat down on the edge of Marius’s bed. “You’re a senior in high school,” he said, an edge of impatience in his voice. “You need to be able to order dinner for yourself when I’m at work.” When Marius didn’t say anything, Gillenormand nudged him and winked. “You know, supposedly you can order dinner from one of those newfangled devices, so that you don’t even have to talk to anyone on the phone. I know how kids your age hate talking on the phone.”

Closing his eyes and counting to ten, Marius considered telling his grandfather that online ordering didn’t solve anything, that you still had to talk to the delivery person when they came to the door, but he decided against it. “I know.”

“This is what you’re supposed to be working on,” Gillenormand reminded him. “Dr. Mabeuf wants you to work on talking to people, on actually engaging in conversation.”

Another count to ten, and Marius forced a smile onto his face. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m going to be a lot better.”

Gillenormand nodded approvingly. “I know you are. That’s why I made an appointment for you with Dr. Mabeuf this afternoon.” He stood as Marius looked up at him, something like horror flickering in his eyes. “I hope that you’ve been writing those letters he assigned you.” Gillenormand snorted and shook his head. “Of course, I don’t see what good writing yourself a pep talk will do – Dear Marius Pontmercy, this is going to be a good day and here’s why, etc. Seems like hogwash to me, but I suppose that’s why I’m a lawyer, not a doctor.” He shook his head again and looked at Marius. “Anyway, have you been doing those?”

“Yeah,” Marius said, his voice small. “I, uh, I started writing one. I’ll finish it at school.”

“Good,” Gillenormand said, his tone turning brisk. “Because I don’t want another year of you sitting at home on your computer every Friday night telling me you have no friends.”

Marius looked away. “Neither do I,” he muttered.

Gillenormand didn’t seem to notice Marius’s tone. “Why don’t you go around today and ask the other kids to sign your cast?” he suggested. “That would be a perfect icebreaker, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Marius said, with no enthusiasm whatsoever. “Perfect.”

Marius bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, nervously clicking the cap of his sharpie over and over as he lurked outside the entrance to the school, waiting to see someone, anyone he knew so that he could ask them to sign his cast and get his grandfather off his back. He saw Feuilly and thought about waving him over, but whether he wanted to or not, Feuilly saw him and made a beeline over to him. “Hey! How was your summer?” Feuilly asked, barreling forward before Marius could answer. “Mine was productive. I did three internships and ninety hours of community service.” Marius opened his mouth to respond but again Feuilly did not let him. “I know, I know,” he sighed. “But I gotta have all this for my college apps, you know?”

“Um, yeah,” Marius said, and taking advantage of the time he had to get a word in edgewise, blurted, “Do you maybe want to sign my cast?”

Feuilly blinked and looked down at Marius’s tentatively outstretched arm. “Oh my god, what happened?” he asked.

Marius wasn’t honestly prepared for someone to ask, and it took him a moment to reply. “Oh, um, well, I broke it. I was climbing a tree, and—”

“Oh, really?” Feuilly said, mildly interested. “The old man who lives down the hall from me broke his hip getting into the bathtub in July. That must’ve been the beginning of the end, because then he died.” Marius stared at Feuilly in horror, and Feuilly just smiled and cheerfully told him, “Well, happy First Day!” before disappearing into school.

Marius heard someone laughing and turned to see Éponine leaning against the wall, a cigarette dangling from her mouth. “What?” Marius asked, a little defensively.

“Nothing,” Éponine said, stabbing her cigarette out against the wall. “I was just wondering, is it weird to be the first person in history to break their arm from jerking off too much, or…?”

Marius turned bright red and stammered, “I wasn’t – that wasn’t – I wasn’t doing that!”

Éponine’s smirk widened. “Paint me a picture of it – you’re in the bedroom, you’ve got Cosette’s Instagram up on your phone, and—”

“That’s not what happened!” Marius insisted, his face still the color of a tomato. “I was climbing a tree, and I fell, ok?”

Éponine examined him critically for a long moment. “I’d stick with the jerking off story if I were you,” she recommended. “It would be the most interesting thing about you.”

Marius gritted his teeth before huffing a sigh and asking, “Do you want to sign my cast?”

Éponine raised an eyebrow at him. “Why are you asking me?”

“Well, I just thought, because, um, we’re friends…”

“Your father knew my father. At the most, that makes us family friends, which is a whole different thing, and you know it.” She tossed her dark hair and glared at the school as the bell rang. “Anyway, like I said. Stick with the jerking off story. And stop asking people to sign your cast. We’re not in elementary school anymore.”

With that, she headed inside, and Marius slowly slid the sharpie back into his pocket, took a deep breath, and headed inside.

So much for today being a good day.

Marius kept his head down as he headed into his first class, AP World History, though he looked up as he accidentally ran into someone. “Oh my god, I’m so—” He broke off when he saw that it was Cosette. “Sorry,” he finished, his voice coming out as a squeak.

Cosette smiled distractedly at him, not pausing her conversation with Musichetta, and Marius ducked his head again and brushed past them. He faltered slightly when he saw Enjolras sitting at the front of the room, flanked as always by Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Marius made a noise that might have charitably sounded close to the word ‘hi’, and before he could flee from the situation, Enjolras looked up at him and blinked. “Marius, right?” he asked.

Marius’s mouth opened and closed twice before he managed, “Marius.”

Enjolras stared at him. “That’s your name, right?”

“Yes, it is, it’s Marius, sorry,” Marius blurted all in one breath, which, if anything, made Enjolras stare at him even more, which, of course, caused Marius to blush even deeper and his palms to start sweating worse than normal.

“Why are you sorry?” Combeferre asked mildly, propping his chin on his hand and looking at Marius as if he was a mildly interesting insect.

Marius looked wildly from Enjolras to Combeferre and made a minute movement of his shoulders that might have been a shrug. “Well, because, he said Marius and then I repeated it, and it’s just so annoying when people so that, so I’m sorry because I don’t want to be annoying and I know I’m annoying, and—”

He broke off because now Enjolras and Combeferre were both staring at him like he’d grown another head, and Courfeyrac was looking at him like he was a drowning puppy, which frankly, he felt a bit like. Enjolras cleared his throat. “Ok, well, I—” he started, at the exact moment Marius blurted, “Do you want to sign my cast?”

“What?” Enjolras asked.

Marius quickly decided to abandon ship. “I didn’t say anything,” he said, pushing past Enjolras to collapse into a seat at the back of the class where, mercifully, Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac couldn’t see him. “Oh my god,” he muttered, putting his head down on his desk and praying for death to find him.

“So that was rough,” someone said, a barely hidden laugh in his voice, and Marius opened one eye to see Grantaire sitting next to him, doodling in the margins of his textbook. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen worse crash and burn attempts at talking to Enjolras, though normally it’s from people trying to hit on him, and I definitely don’t think that’s your angle.” Grantaire paused in his doodle and glanced over at him. “So what is your angle?”

For a moment, Marius considered telling him, because if there was one person on the planet who might understand, it would be Grantaire. Grantaire, the class clown, the fuck-up, the guy caught smoking pot last year in the bathroom and behind the bleachers and, if he’s to be believed, anyway, in the teacher’s lounge. But more importantly, someone who was vaguely friends with Enjolras – vaguely because as anyone with eyes and ears knew, Grantaire had been in love with Enjolras since elementary school.

And maybe, just maybe, Grantaire would understand the desperate, painful longing that Marius felt to belong somewhere, with a group of friends like Enjolras and Combeferre and Courfeyrac and Jehan and Bossuet and—

Because if he had friends, if he was normal, if he wasn’t a complete loser, maybe then he could talk to Cosette. Maybe then he could ask her out like he had wanted to every day since she had moved here in seventh grade. And sure, maybe she would shoot him down, because why wouldn’t she? But at least he’d have tried something, and hell, at least he’d have friends to fall back on.

But no, not even Grantaire would understand just how pathetic Marius was, and so he ducked his head and said nothing. Grantaire looked at him for a moment more before returning to his doodle with a muttered, “Whatever.”

From the front of the classroom, the teacher cleared her throat and tried to call the class to order, though it went about as well as could be expected. The only person who seemed to be paying any attention was Enjolras, and it took him a record 30 seconds before he raised his hand, inspiring a solid half of the class to groan, loudly.

“Yes, Enjolras?” the teacher asked warily.

Enjolras put his hand down. “I wanted to know if the focus of this course is going to be predominantly on imperialist western societies.”

The teacher sighed. “As I’ve explained to you many times over email this summer, the focus will be on what the College Board has determined is important to include on the AP test.”

“So the barometer for importance is determined by the College Board?” Enjolras asked, incredulous. “Don’t we have a moral responsibility to instead learn about world history, instead of white, western history?”

Without raising his hand, Grantaire called from the back of the class, “Don’t we have a moral responsibility to honestly not give a fuck?”

The class laughed and Enjolras swiveled around in his chair to glare at Grantaire. “Shut up if you don’t have anything to contribute,” he ordered.

“Are you going to come back here and make me if I don’t?” Grantaire shot back.

Enjolras just rolled his eyes and turned back around as the teacher tried once more to regain control of the classroom, but Marius glanced at Grantaire, who was scribbling over the drawing in his textbook so hard that he snapped the point off his pencil. “God fucking damnit,” Grantaire swore, throwing his pencil down and standing to storm out of the classroom.

“Grantaire, get back here!” the teacher called after him.

Marius bit his lip and looked down at his own desk. He could be wrong, but he thought that, before he had scribbled over it, Grantaire had drawn a pretty good sketch of Enjolras.

He was also pretty sure that he wasn’t the only one having a shitty first day of school.

Marius’s cast was still blank when the last bell rang, which only served as further evidence of how bad his day had been. Marius made his way to the computer lab so that he could quickly type something up for the stupid letter he was supposed to have written for his stupid doctor’s appointment.

Just as he sat down at a computer, his cellphone rang, and Marius glanced down at it, unsurprised to see it was his grandfather’s office phone calling. “I know I’m supposed to pick you up for your appointment, but I’m stuck in a meeting,” Gillenormand said without preamble. “I’m going to send the car to pick you up instead. Also, go ahead and eat without me tonight. I won’t be home until late.”

“Fine,” Marius said listlessly.

“Did you write one of those letters yet?” Gillenormand asked. “Dr. Mabeuf’s going to expect you to have one.”

Marius’s grip on his phone tightened. “Yeah, I know,” he said quickly. “I’ve, uh, I’ve already finished it. I’m in the computer lab printing it out.”

“Good,” Gillenormand said. He hesitated for a moment before asking, “Did you have a good day?”

“It was…” Marius trailed off. “It was great.”

“Good,” Gillenormand said again. “Well, I have to go. I will see you at home later.”

“Bye,” Marius said, but Gillenormand had already hung up.

He set his phone down and stared at the blank document on the computer, at the stupid cursor blinking at him, waiting for him to write lies to encourage himself when all that today had done was remind him how little he believed things would ever get better. He lifted his fingers, set them on the keys, and let his frustration and his anger and his loneliness pour out:

Dear Marius Pontmercy,

Turns out this wasn’t an amazing day after all. This isn’t going to be an amazing week or an amazing year because why would it be. I know, I know, because there’s Enjolras, and all my hope is pinned on Enjolras, who I don’t even know and who doesn’t know me, but maybe if I could just talk to him, maybe – maybe nothing would be different at all.

I wish everything was different. I wish I was part of something. I wish that anything I said mattered to someone. I mean, would anyone even noticed if I just disappeared tomorrow?

Sincerely, your best and most dearest friend,

Me

He finished with a flourish and clicked print without even rereading it. He logged off his computer, stood and turned to grab the paper, almost running smack into Grantaire, who was standing between him and the printer. “So what happened to your arm?” Grantaire asked.

“Oh, um,” Marius stammered, looking down at his arm, wondering if he should make Éponine’s joke about masturbating and deciding against it, “I fell out of a tree, actually.”

“You fell,” Grantaire repeated.

Marius felt himself blush for about the fiftieth time that day. “Well, see, it’s a funny story, though,” he mumbled. “Because for ten minutes after I fell, I just lay there, waiting for someone to come get me, like, you know, any second now, any second…”

He trailed off and Grantaire just looked at him. “Did they?” he asked.

“No,” Marius said. “Um, see, that’s the funny part.”

For a moment, Grantaire kept staring at him, then he laughed. “Well that is just the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.” Marius blinked, and managed a small smile. “No one’s signed your cast.”

Marius glanced down at it. “I know.”

“Well, I’ll sign it.”

“You don’t have to.” The words were out of Marius’s mouth before he could stop them, before he could think through what he was saying.

Luckily, Grantaire didn’t seem insulted. “Do you have a sharpie?” he asked, and Marius silently pulled the marker from his pocket and handed it to Grantaire, who uncapped it with his teeth and bent over Marius’s cast. He considered it for a moment, and in one artistic swoop, wrote a massive, cursive capital-R, big enough to take up an entire side of Marius’s cast. “There,” he said, with satisfaction. “Now we can both pretend that we have friends.”

Marius took the sharpie back from Grantaire, looking down at the R without enthusiasm. “Oh, great. Thanks.”

“Um, is this yours?” Marius looked up to see Grantaire holding up a piece of paper. “I found it in the printer. Dear Marius Pontmercy…I mean, that’s you, so.”

“Oh, um, yeah,” Marius said, rubbing the back of his neck and wondering how the hell he was going to explain this. “I, uh, it’s just an assignment.”

Grantaire nodded slowly, scanning the letter quickly. “Because there’s Enjolras,” he read aloud, looking back up at Marius. “Maybe I was wrong about you trying to hit on him.”

Marius gaped at him, and before he could recover the power of speech, before he could offer any kind of explanation or denial, Grantaire left. And it took Marius a moment to realize that he had taken the letter with him. “Fuck.”

“A letter to yourself?” Éponine repeated, both eyebrows raised as she stared at Marius. “The fuck does that even mean? Is that, like, some kind of sex thing?”

“Not everything is a sex thing,” Marius snapped, crossing his arms tightly in front of his chest. “It’s…an assignment. For class.”

Éponine looked like she didn’t believe it, but mercifully didn’t press further. “Why are you talking to me about this?”

“I didn’t know who else to talk to,” Marius said defensively. “You’re my only—” He caught himself just in time. “My only family friend. And I don’t know what to do, ok? He took the letter from me like three days ago and then he hasn’t been at school since!”

Éponine took a slow drag off her cigarette and nodded. “That does not bode well for you,” she said conversationally.

Marius groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What’s he going to do?” he asked desperately. “Do you think he’s going to show the letter to people?”

“He’s going to ruin your life with it for sure,” Éponine said confidently, finishing her cigarette and flicking the butt into the grass. “I mean, I would.”

Well, that was hardly reassuring. But before Marius could press her further, Éponine’s eyes widened and she disappeared. Marius spun around to find Principal Javert staring at him, his expression unreadable. “Marius Pontmercy?” he asked. “I need you to come with me.”

The trip to Javert’s office took just enough time for Marius to run through every single thing that could possibly happen, every single punishment he could possibly be dealt, but nothing could have prepared him for Javert to open his office door and reveal Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac all sitting inside, along with a tall, stern-looking man impatiently tapping his foot. “Marius, this is Grantaire’s father,” Javert said quietly. “And of course, you know Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac.”

Courfeyrac nodded at Marius but neither Enjolras nor Combeferre looked up at him. Combeferre’s arm was around Enjolras’s shoulders, and Enjolras was staring down at a piece of paper that looked all too familiar. “I’ll let you speak in private,” Javert said, his hand on Marius’s shoulder.

“That won’t be necessary,” Grantaire’s dad said, sounding almost bored as he looked at Marius and told him, “My son killed himself.”

Enjolras let out what sounded almost like a sob, and Combeferre shot Grantaire’s dad a nasty look. Javert cleared his throat. “Perhaps it would be better—” he started, but Grantaire’s dad cut him off.

“It would be better if we spoke outside,” he said firmly. “I have nothing more to say to the boys that my son fell in with.” Marius recoiled at the tone of his voice, the disapproval bordering on disgust. “My son was a disappointment and the end of his life made no difference in that.”

Enjolras’s face went white, and he made as if to stand, his hands balled into fists, Combeferre’s arm the only thing holding back. “Let’s step outside,” Javert said firmly, his tone allowing no room for argument, and Grantaire’s father followed him out, the door closing behind him with a snap.

Marius looked at Enjolras, his mouth dry, and he glanced over at Courfeyrac. “I don’t…I don’t understand.”

Courfeyrac looked at Enjolras and Combeferre. “Enjolras,” he said quietly, and wordlessly, Enjolras held out the paper in his hands. “Grantaire wanted you to have this,” Courfeyrac told Marius.

“We didn’t know that you were friends with him,” Combeferre said quietly. “But then we saw – Dear Marius Pontmercy.”

Marius looked down at the paper, which was exactly what he thought it was, and his mind went blank. “Friends?” he repeated, latching on to the only word that seemed to make sense from everything that had just happened.

“We figured we knew all of Grantaire’s friends, since, like, we’ve all been friends forever,” Courfeyrac said. “But then we saw this letter, and it seemed to pretty clearly suggest that you and Grantaire were, or at least, that Grantaire thought of you as…” He trailed off and shook his head. “I mean, it’s right there, the letter’s addressed to you. Dear Marius Pontmercy. He wrote it to you.”

“You think that Grantaire wrote this to me?” he asked, the pieces slowly beginning to click into place. “I’m, I’m sorry, but—”

“It’s all they found with him,” Enjolras said quietly, speaking for the first time and looking up at Marius with wet, red eyes. “He had it folded up in his pocket. He was—” His voice broke and Combeferre’s arm around his shoulder tightened. “He was trying to explain why…why…” He took a deep, shuddering breath, his tone turning desperate. “I wish everything was different, I wish I was a part of something, I wish—”

Marius couldn’t let this go on, couldn’t let them keep believing this mistake. “Ok, but this is not, um. I’m sorry, but Grantaire didn’t write this.”

Enjolras’s eyes flashed up to his. “What does that mean?” he demanded. “He didn’t write it? Why would you say that? This is…this is all we have.”

Marius shook his head, unable to vocalize any plausible explanation, and he held the letter out to Enjolras. “You should take it, please,” he said, an edge of desperation in his voice, but before he could say anything else, Enjolras gripped Combeferre’s arm.

“Look at his cast,” he said quietly, his face tightening with pain and loss.

Marius looked down at his cast, at the giant, cursive R he had forgotten was there, and his heart dropped, Grantaire’s words Now we can both pretend that we have friends echoing in his head.

What explanation could he possibly offer now?

He was saved only by Javert opening the door to his office again and stepping inside. “Gentlemen,” he started, his voice uncharacteristically soft, “I know that this is impossibly difficult for you, and I wanted to let you know that we’ve called in grief counselors and they’re on their way. I want to give you the option of returning to class, or else we can call your parents and you can go home for the rest of the day.”

“I’m staying,” Enjolras said instantly.

Javert looked concerned, but nonetheless nodded and glanced from Combeferre to Courfeyrac, who shrugged and said tiredly, “If he’s staying, we’re staying, though I doubt we’ll be doing much learning today.”

“I doubt anyone will be,” Javert said quietly. “We’re holding everyone in their first period class for the moment, and we’ll send the grief counselors to the senior classes first. You are, after all, the ones who would have known him best.”

Enjolras nodded, once, and stood a little unsteadily, letting Combeferre take his elbow and steer him towards the door. He paused when he passed Marius and turned to look at him. “I want to talk to you more,” he said quietly. “Later. At some point. Please.”

And there was nothing Marius could do but nod.

After Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Enjolras all filed out, Javert turned to Marius. “And what about you, Mr. Pontmercy? Do you want to go back to class, or do you want to go home?”

“Back to class, I guess,” Marius said hollowly, though something in his chest clenched painfully when he realized that there would be an empty seat next to him.

Javert nodded slowly, his expression softening, and he again placed his hand heavily on Marius’s shoulder. “I am so sorry for the loss of your friend,” he said.

“He wasn’t—” Marius started, but before he could finish, Javert had been called away, leaving Marius standing there alone as always. “He wasn’t my friend.”

#ExR #Enjolras x Grantaire #Marius x Cosette #Grantaire #Marius Pontmercy #Enjolras #Combeferre #Courfeyrac #Cosette #Éponine #Les Amis #fanfiction #les miserables #modern au #Dear Evan Hansen AU #suicide tw #major character death tw #suicide ideation tw #developing relationship #unrequited feelings #probably more that I should tag this as but alas this will suffice for the moment

[podartcollective]

How to Break the Cycle of Depression

PS: Today, the day I wrote this, I tried to get out in the sun more than i felt i could and do a few small chores today to keep me going even though I felt like I couldn’t move, and they helped pull me out of the worst breakdown I’ve had in months. My point is, don’t stop trying. You can help yourself. You are strong.

How to Break the Cycle of Depression

Studies have shown that regular exercise can not only fill you with endorphins and lift your mood in the short term, but also make you feel more energetic in the long term.

Studies have also shown that meditation as a daily practice can help you clear your mind in the face of anxiety and bring more awareness to your life.

Studies can suck it.

I know that sounds reactionary, but I know you’ve felt that way. I’ve felt that way. The unfortunate truth is that the studies are true. Exercise, a better diet, meditation, yoga, and all of that have huge benefits in the short and long term. What articles on those studies ignore, is that it’s fucking hard to get off your ass and do ANYTHING while you’re depressed. Imagine you’re feeling your absolute worst; maybe a day where you can’t stop sobbing, a day where you weren’t able to move, whatever; you think you’re going to be able to get up and go for a run?

Do you think that’ll be the way to break the dissociative, catatonic state you’re in where every thought contributes to the overwhelm that’s keeping you there? FUCK NO.

But “fuck your excuses,” right? As anybody that’s run their way to better mental health will tell you, it’s just a matter of “taking that first step.” But they seem completely unaware of the fact that some people’s first step is a lot smaller and shorter than the step of others. Yes, exercise helps, yes cooking for yourself helps, yes meditation helps, and yoga, and dancing, and a regular sleep schedule. But sometimes those things are the goal and not the first step. Actually they should be the end goal for a lot of people. Things like that are easy, sustainable systems once they are worked into a routine, but not everyone can start with that.

When you’re severely depressed, it is hard to break the cycle. Everything you do, from getting take out food to sleeping too much/not enough, only perpetuates your state of depression. I know this shit from experience. And I know the struggle for hope that there has to be something to wake you up and break up the suffering. There is. But it takes strength and awareness. When you’re that down, you have to identify the small things you can do that work for you, easy things you can do to start building yourself up brick by individual brick. You will have to start as slowly as is necessary, but each thing is a step to more energy and a small step out of the hole. When you’re that down, no one should expect you to go on a run, but maybe someday you will be able to.

When I’m at my worst (ugly crying, suicidal ideation, consuming fatigue, the works) sometimes the only thing I can do is sit in the sun and cry while having a cigarette instead of cry and smoke in the shade. That’s how small of steps I’m talking about. Infusing positive habits in your life one milligram at a time. Because, let’s be real, a lot of the time we’re only strong enough to lift that one milligram.

One warning: be careful of rampant-self-care association, or RSCA. This is a condition made up by me to describe the over-attachment to any activity that helps abate the pain and then assigning it the title self-care. Chain smoking is not self-care. Binge watching netflix is not self-care. Drinking a bottle of wine by yourself is not self-care. But I get it. These activities work to bring us out of our slump at least a little bit, and sometimes you’re desperate for even the tiniest bit of a break. However, when allowed to get out of hand, these things can lead to negative long term habits of escapism and ignorance of your emotions (let alone the potential physical consequences of tobacco and alcohol.)

This is where slowly building positive habits comes into play. Not only can that action work to create a positive, sustainable routine, but it can also transform these negative habits into actual self-care, which is a valid concept and does help. But this starts with identifying those habits. The ones that feel good at the time, but in the back of your head you know they’re not good for you.

Everyone has their own shit, but let’s use the examples mentioned above. Like I said with cigarettes, chain smoking happens. But maybe each time you have a cigarette, try to sit in the sun for a little while. Then, maybe a few tries later, start taking short walks in the sun, or even just standing up and shuffling your feet. Next steps include taking actual walks in the sun while smoking, slowly cutting back on cigarettes, and eventually you’re going outside more than you ever would have otherwise. Maybe you’ll even get to the point of enjoying a hike occasionally and not smoke at all, but that’s the goal, not the first step.

Or the ever-popular netflix binge. It is a great addiction to escapism. Really though, escapism is a great tool when all you know is depression. However, when you start escaping 75% or more of your waking hours it just perpetuates a cycle of neglect, of your body and of your emotions. This postpones the important work you should be doing while depressed, work that will help change your situation. But, again, I get it and have been there. Sometimes it’s the only thing you can do. So, try and switch to a comedy, a less serious drama that doesn’t affect your mood, or maybe even one that peaks your artistic interests. Try to make binge sessions shorter until they are only there when you really really need them. Try shows with shorter episodes, maybe switch to happier movies, and maybe some day documentaries. Eventually you can reserve netflix for when you’re bored and need something to occupy your energy, watching one movie or a few episodes of a short show. Or you can turn netflix into a more social event, watching your favorite shows with friends. But, again, that’s something to build to.

Alcohol is a tricky subject. Alcohol can be nice. Again it sometimes takes the edge off of what you’re feeling. It can also make socializing (an important part of breaking the cycle of depression) so much easier than  when you’re sober and crippled with anxiety. However, alcohol is a depressant, which is dangerous to consume when you’re already depressed. But, doesn’t it feel great to just relax a bit and settle down? That’s a completely valid desire, but alcohol is not a safe way to do that. Try to cut back on how much you consume until maybe it’s just nice to have one drink instead of three. And if one drink doesn’t do it, have some chamomile or lavender tea, which are great for relaxation. Try to experiment with other things to consume that cut back that feeling, maybe after having one glass and then a cup of tea, eventually just the cup of tea will work. Eventually, maybe drinking will only be social and not  a form of escapism.

If you start changing bad habits into good ones, maybe you can start touching on the really good ones. One of my favorite positive habits is meditation, but often it seems like a chore someone told me to do as opposed to something low pressure and helpful What I do instead, to try to build a small foundation up to meditation, is conscious breathing. I start out doing it when I’m panicky, bringing my focus to the count of my breath. Then I start doing it a little longer and more often, not only when I’m panicky. This way, for a few seconds at least, all I have to think about is my breathing. I get the break I long for without it being so overwhelming as the thought of meditation can be. Maybe one day I’ll start meditating for an hour every day, but that’ll hopefully come a little later.

But the one aspect of adjusting your routine that we haven’t talked about (and perhaps the most important one) is a combination of understanding and acceptance of yourself. If you experience chronic depressive episodes, or even ones that last months and months, you’re going to drop back into the cycle. Good habits only get you so far when suddenly you’re hit over the head with emotions again. Understand that it’s ok that you’re back to that place. Understand that you might not be able to start with you’re positive habits right away. Forgive yourself for being in the cycle for a little while. It makes sense and is completely valid. You won’t always have the strength to do what’s best for you.

All you can do is try a little bit (after a rest) each time. Imagine you’re climbing a mountain where at the top is your ideal, healthy routine filled with good food, exercise, and all that, and at the bottom is the worst of the worst. When you have moments of extra energy, try to slowly build to positivity; again it’s a tough climb, so pace yourself. Slowly change your bad habits, and slowly incorporate positive ones. When the bad moods come back, you might be knocked down to the bottom again, but that doesn’t mean you can’t work your way back up again. It might even be a little easier since you’ve had some practice.

Every time you fall, you have the opportunity to climb again, and each time, climbing will be a little bit easier. You might start to go further than you ever had before. Maybe the time between falls starts lengthening. The more you practice it, the easier it will get and the further you’ll get. Eventually, you will be able to play with routines that are good for you, the ones all the studies talk about. Maybe you’ll be able to start exercising regularly, meditating, gardening, or doing yoga. But know that if your mood changes, and a week later you can’t even consider doing these things, that’s ok. These things don’t happen overnight. But if you focus on the small steps, you will build the strength to get there. Being down is not easy, but neither is the climb. If you’re strong enough to endure the lows, you’re strong enough to get to the top. It just takes time.

Do what’s right for you. Everyone is different and wants different things. If exercise isn’t jiving with you, maybe try and find a creative outlet and slowly work that in. Start with journaling, buy a cheap instrument, write poems that make no sense. You can build toward whatever you want. Maybe one day you’ll have a garden. Maybe one day you like camping. Maybe one day you’ll like school. It’s all about identifying your particular habits that need adjusting and identifying the goals you want to achieve. Meditation and yoga aren’t the only options. Maybe you’ll start making a smoothie in the morning as breakfast, a habit that might one day grow into making all your food yourself. This is your life. Build a mountain you want to climb.