#EVERYTHING I CANT STAND AROUND ME AND I WILL STILL MELTDOWN OVER IT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ochabestgirl · 3 years ago

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I have so many good ideas and prompts for fanfiction, and I HAVE tried my had at writing, but it never turns out how I’m wanting it to. I would love for an experienced fanfic writer who loves kachako, to maybe feel inspired to write a specific prompt that has been in my head for years.

So the story starts out with an established Katsuki and Ochako relationship.

Ochako hasn’t been feeling her best, with fatigue and weakness, wt loss, easily getting winded which has been putting a dent in her hero training. Ochako has never wanted to be a burden on anyone, so she keeps how she’s been feeling to herself, brushing off any concerns from her friends and teachers, saying she’s just been overworking herself as an excuse.

Things then take a turn for the worst when she passes out after giving blood at the yearly blood drive that pops up at UA every November. Nobody really thinks anything of it, since it is a normal reaction to donating blood. She wakes up in recovery girls office 4 hours later with a passed out Katsuki in the chair next to her bed. He wakes up and is worried but she eases his worries and sends him back to his dorm room after recovery girl comes in to check up on her. Once their alone, she informs her that after running a few tests on some of the blood she had donated, they discovered that her labs showed an increased in the number of leukocytes which point to one think, leukemia.

Recovery girl wants her to run more tests and have a bone marrow biopsy to confirm and come up with a treatment plan but Ochako is in denial. She can’t possibly accept the fact that all her hard work the last two years at UA could all be for nothing, so she goes harder than ever and does her best to hide it from everyone, including Katsuki.

After getting pared up with Kirishema for a class hero project, Ochako starts having worse symptoms, like bleeding gums and nose bleeds. Recovery girl says that this is a sign of worsening leukemia so she gives her an ultimatum, she either go’s to get her biopsy done or she was going to tell Her teachers, HIPAA be damned.

Reluctantly she agrees, but on the days following, Kirishema notices that she’s been slacking and feels frustrated to be the only one doing the work. On the day of her biopsy, she dips out of training early. Kirishema, having had enough, confronts her saying it wasn’t fair to him if she wasn’t going to take their assignment seriously. Ochako ends up having a compleat meltdown saying, “ you wanna know what’s not fair, I have cancer!” Kirishema in shock tries to respond but she cuts him off “ I’m going to my first bone biopsy today, that’s why I had to leave early, I’m going through this alone, but I’m sorry if all of this is an inconvenience to you!” Tears rolling down her face she turns on her heals and walks away, leaving Kirishema standing there speechless.

After a few moment he takes off to recovery girl desperately looking for answers, now extremely worried about his friend. He grills her for answers. Recovery girl, not able to give him much information, tells him what she can. That Ochako isn’t wanting to tell anyone or be compliant, and where her biopsy is taking place.

Ochako is on the table and they are about to start but before they even take out the needle a nurse walks in and whispers something to the dr. He nods his head and the nurse leaves. She doesn’t thank anything about it, until the door opens and Kirishema walks in. She is confused. “I couldn’t let you go through this alone.” He says shrugging his shoulders with a wary look on his face and tears in his eyes.

He sits by her side holding her hand and brushing his fingers through her hair as she gasps and cries in pain. Tears both running down their faces.

* I don’t have much in between this part and the next. Mostly just Katsuki worrying to death, seeing the bruising on Ochako body and the amount of weight she has lost, not to mention her lethargic behavior, and Kirishema wanting to tell him what’s been going on but not being able to because it wasn’t his place. Ochako swearing him to secrecy, wanting to be the one to tell him but not feeling ready, so she keep putting it off.*

Kirishema has enough when Ochako passes out during breakfast, right in the middle of eating. Katsuki beside himself with anxiety and worry, urging her to take it easy. Ochako looks at Kirishema, noticing the terrified look on his face and excuses herself to go to her dorm room, but not without giving her boyfriend a calming kiss saying she was going to take a nap. Katsuki watch’s her disappear through the elevator doors, with a hopeless look on his face. Kirishema has made up his mind and sneaks off after breakfast to confront Ochako.

They end up getting into an argument and Kirishema says that she has to the end of the week to tell Katsuki or he was going to and storms out of her room, leaving Ochako sitting on her bed staring off into space completely spent with the day already.

Katsuki comes up after cleaning up the dining area to find Ochako passed out rather uncomfortable looking on her bed. He adjusts her to where her head is on her pillow and draws the covers up over her shoulders. She is shivering so he looks for another blanket in her dresser drawers only to find a large plastic bag full of an assortment of colorful pills. (Ochako put them in a plastic bag so she could hide them better.)

Completely shook, thinking that Ochako has a drug problem, he takes the pills and leaves, and in typical Katsuki fashion with no warning or tact, confronts Ochako in the common room after dinner in front of all his classmates. Completely consumed with worry, frustration, anger, concern and sadness, he doesn’t even think that he probably shouldn’t have approached it the way he did, but he was too desperate to care.

He throws the bag of pills out on the coffee table in front of Ochako. “Care to explain why I found a bag of pills in your dresser?” He asks with so much tension he is shaking a little bit. “I should have noticed sooner, it makes so much since now.” He says to no one in particular.

“Katsuki it’s not what you think, let me explain, I….”

“Don’t even fucking lie Ochako, you’ve been lying to me for weeks, I’m sick of it damnit!�� He is shaking uncontrollably now. “I’m telling Aizawa, and we’re getting you into the first rehabilitation facility we can find that has an opening!” He’s so unhinged that he doesn’t even notice the stunned looks of concern on his classmates faces.

“Ochako, is it true?” Mina asked with both hands cradled to her chest. “ If it is, we all love you and want to help you.”

At this point Ochako is slumped over with her face in her hands, trying to make herself as small as possible.

She had been sitting between Deku and Iida, who are now rubbing her back with worried looks on their faces. “Ochako we will get you help, everything will be okay.” Deku says with tears in his eyes and voice thick with emotion.

Ochako springs off the couch so fast it startles everyone. She’s pacing around the room, and the color looks to be drained out of her face. She’s breathing heavy with tears in her eyes, borderline panic attack mode. Katsuki’s face softens and he approaches her, arms lifting like he was going to try to calm her down.

Kirishema then decides to speak up “ Chako, I think now is the right time to tell him.”

Katsukis head snaps up and his eye meet the ones of his best friend. “What the hell are you talking about, you knew what was going on this whole fucking time, and kept it from me?!”

“It wasn’t my place to say anything bro.” Kirishema responded with regret.

Small explosions leave katsukis palms as he leaps over the couch grabbing onto Kirishema’s shirt getting a few punches in before Deku and Sero pull them apart. Katsukis is still thrashing trying to get out of Dekus grip.

“I have leukemia!” Ochako screams loud enough for everyone in the building to hear. She then falls to the ground curling into herself sobbing.

Everyone and everything just stops and everyone freezes, Kirishema is laying on the floor rubbing his face while katsukis just stands there, with a blank look on his face directed at Ochako.

“Leuko-what now??” Kaminari asks from his place beside Kirishema.

“But that’s” Deku starts “ That’s cancer right?”

A strangled gasp is heard from Tsyu, who is trying not to cry.

“How can this be? Your so young, you have your whole life ahead of you.” Iida says like he hasn’t processed the information yet.

This comment causes katsuki to spring to life, “ w-why the fuck are you still here then, we need to get you to a hospital! Som-someone go get recovery girl! Why are you all looking at me like I’m crazy! She needs to go to a fucking hospital!” He’s not pausing for breath and in a half second, he is crouching down next to Ochako, ready to pick her up and bolt to the closets hospital himself. “ W-whatever, I’m going to get Aizawa myself!”

“You can’t!” Ochako desperately clings to katsukis arm, both trying to ground herself and to stop him from leaving. “You cant tell anyone! N-none of you all can tell anyone.” She looks like a cornered animal.

Katsuki looks at her like she has grown a second head. “what the hell are you talking about?! Do you even get how serious this is?! You could fucking die Ochako!” He’s panicking now “ That is not a risk I am willing to take!”

Anger boiling up inside her she yanks her hands away and stands up, causing katsuki to fall over.

“This isn’t your decision ‘Bakugou!’” She seethes. “I have worked so hard and I have come so far! I can’t give all that up! I won’t!” She is standing so still, fist clenched and shaking slightly.

“Chako, you have to-“ Kirishema is silenced by Ochakos loud “No!”

“I don’t Have to do anything! This is my decision!” Ochako starts backing away, eyes darting around the room, obviously looking for an escape. “It’s my decision…” she whispers once more before she bolts to the door leading to the outside, having jumped over the couch in the process. By the time anyone had realized what had happened, she had already disappeared through the doors vanishing into the night.

The class explodes into a frenzy.

“What is going on down here.” Came the calm voice of their teacher from the elevator doors.

“Mr Aizawa…” Kirishema takes it upon himself to explain everything that had happened, all the while katsuki curls more and more into himself. He is still on the floor, head between his legs and hands in his hair.

Deku is close by, trying to talk to him but it is lost on def ears, he can barely make out the panic in his voice.

Trying to get control over his breathing he starts in though is nose and out through his mouth. He is filled with so many emotions he doesn’t know which one to focus on. Angry tears well up in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

He is aware of Kirishema’s face replacing Deku’s, and the ringing in his ears has stopped enough to hear him say that Aizawa, Mina, and , Tsyu have went after her.

He doesn’t remember when or how he winds up on the couch, and he doesn’t even care. He feels hands push him down so he is laying down with his feet propped up, and a cold washcloth is placed on his head.

By the time he starts to breath normally, he’s not sure how much time has passed. When he opens his eyes, he sees that some people were still lingering. Kirishema was sitting in a chair next to him with his head in his hands. Deku, Iida, and Todoroki were hovering by the door, looking for any sign of their return. Sero and kaminari sat on the love seat across from katsuki with sad, forlorn expressions on their faces.

When he slowly sits up, Kirishema lifts his head. Looking him dead in the eyes, katsuki asked, “Did all of that really happened? Is this really happening?” Katsuki hates how his voice cracks.

“ I’m afraid so.” Kirishema says gaze lowering to the floor. “ listen man, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It wasn’t my place.”

“ I understand why you didn’t. It’s okay.” Kirishema looked like he wanted to say something to that but suddenly the door opened.

Katsuki shoots up from his seat on the couch and faces the door.

Tucked underneath Mr. Aizawa’s arm was a rather small looking Ochako. Face puffy from crying, and bags under her eyes from exhaustion, she looked like the walking dead. Beside her with her arm locked with hers was Mina, face also a little read and puffy, Tysu bringing in the rear holding Ochakos shoes, despair written all over her face.

Ochako refused to look at anyone, even the remaining members of the so called “Deku squad.”

Katsuki makes a move to meet them at the door but one look from Mina makes him stop in his tracks. She shakes her head and mouths ‘not now,’ so not knowing what else to do he just stands there and dumbly watches them make their way to the elevator.

Katsuki tries to sleep that night, but can’t, his mind too full with visions of Ochako dying. Giving up he goes to his desk and opens up his laptop. He spends the next 3 hours researching leukemia, the survival rate, symptoms, causes, treatments, reactions to the medication, by the time the third hours came to a close it’s 2 am and katsuki has had enough. Without second guessing himself, he makes his way out the door, down the hall to Ochakos room and knocks.

It takes a few minutes before the door opens revealing a wide awake but an extremely exhausting looking girl he calls his girlfriend.

Her face contorts in pain and her eyes well up with tears when she sees him. “I’m so sorry katsuki” she sobs.

Without saying anything katsuki grabs her face with both of his hands and kisses her with the power of every emotion he had felt and is still feeling. Pushing her back into her room, he kicks the door shut. She’s on him in seconds, tears still leaking from her eyes as he kisses them away.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much cheeks.” It’s comes out as a choked whisper, like a plea for her to live. He’s got a lump in his throat but he pushes it down. She doesn’t need him breaking down too.

Ochako steps back for only a second to remove her shirt, then she leaps and wraps her legs around katsukis waist, opening up a whole other can of worms.

Not having any control at this point, he pushes her against the door, devouring her mouth like it was his only lifeline. “ I love you too! So much, I’m so sorry.” He silences her words with a Searing kiss. He moves them over to the bed and gently places her down. then settles himself on top of her. “Are you okay? I’m not hurting you am I?” He’s so afraid now.

“You could never hurt me.” She says with such certainty.

That night they gave themselves to each other in every way they could think of.

Him needing to feel her, to know that she was still alive and whole in his arms.

Her needing to feel alive and needing reassurance that she wasn’t alone in this, needing to feel close to the one she loves.

*So that is all I have so far. I do have some thoughts about her treatment and how katsuki struggles with watching her suffer. I would like the story to include weather or not Ochako makes it. But I’ll leave that up to whoever wants to take this story on. Also feel free to write smut if you want. I’m just not good at that, so I didn’t include it.

Please let me know what you all think and if you can make this fic come to life.

Disclaimer: Art is not mine! I got it off of google search. All credit goes to the artists.

#bakugou katsuki #izuku mydoria #kachako #katsuki x ochako #ochako uraraka #my hero academia #kirishima eijirou #mina ashido #kirimina #my hero fanfic #sad fanfiction #leukemia #my hero academy fanfiction #kachaan #deku x ochako #friendship #kirichako #brotp inspo

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kakyoinryoko · 4 years ago

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how do u think jotaro would deal w meltdowns? since he has autism (<- canon)

autism is pretty varied and i am not personally someone who is affected by meltdowns, so i’m maybe not the person to ask about this particular subject, but i will take the opportunity to at least talk about what i think autism looks like for him, particularly when he gets overwhelmed.

i often see people assuming he would hate crowded spaces, but that’s not the case, exactly. i think i am similar to jotaro in that being bombarded by a lot of sensation at once, particularly physical touch and sounds coming from multiple sources, is extremely overwhelming. the best example for this is his interaction w the girls at the start of sdc/diu (and to some extent the fight with steely dan, too). they’re all talking over each other, some of them are trying to touch him without warning, and he blows up at them (or in the case of dan, he at least gets progressively more tense even though he cant really do much about it at the time). that said, though, he still says he enjoys the bustle of calcutta, which seems sort of contradictory. speaking as someone who enjoys cities in spite of my own sensory problems, though, i think this can be explained by the fact that the sounds and the physical contact were coming from all around. being in a very crowded place turns everything into a sort of “white noise” in a figurative and literal sense--if everyone is talking at once to the point it becomes an indistinct roar from every direction, if everyone is pressed in shoulder to shoulder and you’re being touched from all sides, it’s not as big a deal as a single point of contact, or being pestered a few people at once.

i guess all of that is to say i think we both have a good idea of what sets him off and a good idea of how he reacts to it, as well as some exceptions to his usual triggers. he is subject to sensory overload just as much as any other autistic person, but only if the sensations are inconsistent; if they’re all blending together into a single buzz, it’s not something that will bother him as much. if it DOES get to be too much, though, he tends to lash out in anger, which seems to be the emotion that comes easiest to him. so cities are fine, but if the crusaders started arguing in the car, or someone was clicking a pen over and over, or someone got his attention by tapping him on the shoulder, he would probably yell at them.

another important factor to the topic of emotional regulation is stimming, i think. we see a little of it, manifesting in his tendency to tense up; he’ll clench his fists or his jaw pretty frequently if he’s frustrated. a thing i struggle with that he wouldn’t necessarily have to, however, is stimming in front of people. i generally don’t because it would come across as very weird and embarrassing, which can be frustrating, so sometimes i have to leave a room just to do it. he has star platinum, though, so provided there are no stand users around, i think any time he’s feeling overwhelmed star could do it for him--hand flapping is the obvious one everyone knows about, but something i do is clench my fists (sometimes around my thumb, sometimes just in a proper fist) and shake them back and forth, which i think he might do because it incorporates the pressure stimming we already see him doing.

i think people tend to associate stimming with happiness, which is great, but for me it’s something i do if i am overwhelmed in any capacity--this could be because i’m overcome with happiness or excitement, but it can also be frustration, or too much social interaction, or nerves, or pretty much anything without moderation. jotaro is a lot more emotional than he openly expresses (especially in the manga, where he’s at least shown to have more than one facial expression), so i think he would probably stim a lot so long as no one could see him doing it. i like to imagine when he first gets star platinum he can’t control when star does it very well, so all the crusaders have probably seen it happen.

thats all for now i have nothing else. this doesnt really answer your question at all. sorry. <3

#Anonymous

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crimsonandcloverwrites · 3 years ago

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bhah ch3 reread u know the drill

what is Jamie doing with all this oil I am concerned

god the tension of knowing Jamie is there but not talking to her but Dani probably secretly hoping she will

aww is she picking up more wonder woman comics for mikey?? cute

gah I love that they slip back into playful banter so easily despite everything going on

also 10/10 that the gays in town would be trying on the tackiest sunglasses in the service station (and 12/10 that Jamie actually brought them)

Dani Carson car adventures!! i would read a whole 20k word chapter just on that

sdfkjdshjfhd Dani throwing herself to the ground when she sees Jamie in the supermarket I’m losing it

“Yeah and then she left” ouch

THREE GAYS IN A SUPERMARKET WHAT WILL HAPPEN

aww Jamie Carson reunion tooooo cute

oh my god the tension of them standing back to back trying not to touch lmao

Jamie rly is the teeniest in town huh

Dani getting all protective and mad over Mikey having to sit outside school is v sweet

Jamie to the rescue how cute

Jamie’s collarbone: hello. Dani’s gay panic: LOOK AWAY

also sdkjfhdkjhg Jamie working w her hands is so hot we need more fics just talking about her getting dirty. for the good of the nation

there is so much going on here the cute teasing Dani feeling all weird abt their whole dynamic jamie giving her looks the engagement ring I am not equipped to process all of it

“you think there are secrets in this town?” just ur burning love for each other ladies!

once again mechanic!jamie... i am compromised

aww Dani bby literally does not know what to do with herself. the juxtaposition of the depth of their relationship and the little moments of familiarity with the awkwardness of people who don’t really know each other properly anymore is so fucking well done here

Eddie’s “honey I’m home” moment carrying her over the threshold afkjhsdkjf good for him

Dani and this house got beef huh

Dani: sometimes things with Eddie just don’t feel right but I’m sure that’s fine. Dani when she loses a tiny piece of her relationship w Jamie: level 5 meltdown. Literally the theme of this fic is “honey you got a big storm comin” and I love it

this dig at pineapple on pizza........ offensive

“Instead, she reset her mask, pulled the rope to part the stage curtains, and tied the other end around her neck.” Jesus.

“the other part of Dani, the part that never knew how to stop missing Jamie” i will cryyyy

starting a gofundme for Dani’s car asap

Eddie putting the moves on I can’t look. but lmao when he finds a girl that’s actually into him and wants this kind of attention his whole world is gonne be rocked

can we get Dani some therapy pls this is not how u should feel abt the person ur gonna marry. or about yourself

*gasp* the wontons mixtape

hmmmm I’m Not in Love and A Case Of You really are a one-two punch huh

lol I just went to play them and I was apparently in the middle of listening to Stop Making This Hurt by The Bleachers which feels... apt

fuck. making a mixtape for someone truly is peak romance huh? music my beloved

hmmm i just realised that this timeline parallels the flashback chapters w a new Taylor in school in each how cool. and also Nan vs Jamie taking on responsibilities w these kids and stepping up for them in their own way pls my emotions

aahh the coffee date I kinda forgot how fast Dani made this relationship rekindle bless her

wait clara and horace does that mean abigail is in Dani’s class too??? she lives??

a reserved sign pls that’s so cute

OWEN! god I love the levity and banter w Jamie he brings to fics

there is just so much fondness between them it always shines through no matter what they’re talking about I love it

this backpacking chat... envisioning Dani n Jamie once Mikey is grown up going on a big tour of europe together n fufilling Dani’s dreams

the fact that Jamie was drawn back to this place... by what hmmmm ms taylor. by what

oof this really is a painful rehashing of the past huh.

“star hike” lmao

"I can fix it." "You can't." OUCH

ooft just rip the bandaid right off. “I missed you. Everyday.” god my heart

arguing in an alley behind the pharmacy that’s gay rights

"Because if it was going to end, then I wanted it over quickly!” jamie ‘everyone always leaves so I cut them off before they can hurt me‘ taylor everyone. I am not doing well

ok with the context of like... everything from the future chapters this scene hits even harder than the first time i read it jesus

still can’t get over Dani ‘trying not to recall the memories of the last time they were in this room together’ was Jamie absolutely falling to pieces in her arms *screams forever* i remember reading that line and imagning so many things it could have been and yet yall went for the ultimate stab to the heart bravo

god I’m just thinking about how much they’ve both changed in those 10 years and how much they’ve stayed the same and just. god the way they’re so drawn to each other still!!!! i can’t even comprehend

blue schrunchie cherished friend

i feel like there is a significance to the red door I cant place and all my brain will provide is “you, me, her” but polyamory adventures is probably not the direction this is going

Jamie like “want a tour of ur future home babe? lets go” (I do love how enchanted Dani is by all of it though)

gah I love Jamie and Mikey together soooo much

find u a person that eats all the foods u don’t like. pickle soulmates

heh “Miss Dani” poor Mikey is goin through it lolol

they are all so cute together i love this lil sunday afternoon family

“Dani kept her gaze fixed on Jamie for just a second longer, studying her profile” gay

there has been several mentions of Jamie’s unreadable/blank expressions this chapter and I can’t stop laughing at her losing her mind over how much she loves Dani and trying to keep it in check every time

THEY’RE FRIENDS AGAIN

AND THEY’RE HUGGING OH HAPPY DAYS

oooh the sandalwood cologne

idk why this Jamie Eddie handshake is making me laugh so much but I love them

Eddie pulling Dani in closer to himself when Jamie’s there..... he knows

staying awake until 2am to finish rereading gay fanfiction... clownery (but fun!) goodnight

#bhah #silly time

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Down with the Recipe, Bake from the Heart, 10/10 (Taywhora) - Juno

Chapter Summary: The three finalists are just three challenges away from the end of the Bake Off, and the reunion with their fellow competitors, families, and friends at the finale garden party. The Signature and Technicals will be the hardest yet, and the Showstopper will ensure the three finalists bare a slice of their hearts to the country. But who will take the winning cake stand?

A/N: I have been utterly blown away by the support and comments I’ve had for this fic on tumblr and AO3! Huge big thank you to everyone who has cheered me on with this. For ease, the finale and epilogue are in one here (but are split on AO3). I hope to be back soon with some short stuff for rare pair challenge! xo Juno

WEEK 10: GRAND FINALE

Aurora felt like she didn’t sleep all week back in Worksop, and now, the night before she had to take the train down south to film the grand finale, the very idea seemed virtually impossible. Her body and her mind tossed and turned, every time she closed her eyes she saw cakes and breads and pastries and all sorts of things she was sure she’d never have any desire to eat again.

She had no time to think about Tayce, but Tayce had found her way in through the cracks in her mind while she had practised. Gone from the tent, but not gone from her life. And her last act in the tent had been to give Aurora five words that had rung like a melody in her head ever since.

You can win this, bitch.

She reached for her phone in the darkness, and it said it was half past one in the morning. She’d have to get up in three hours to get ready, before she headed out for the train. Lawrence would already be on the sleeper train, and Veronica was probably getting up at around the same time. But as she opened their own three-way chat, she found both Lawrence and Veronica were also messaging at silly time in the morning.

They weren’t sleeping either. Aurora understood why now.

Sure, she’d see Tayce again this weekend at the grand finale garden party. But her departure still replayed in her head.

Why did I end up this reliant on her anyway? I can bake without her. I’ve done it for years!

But this wasn’t just baking. It wasBake Off. It was surreal, intangible. It defied gravity. How many times had Aurora had to anchor herself to Tayce to keep herself from floating away?

Her phone came up with a notification from Lawrence.

Lawrence:why tf ru awake

The irony of Lawrence’s message was not lost on Aurora.

Aurora:your meant to be on the sleeper train Aurora: sleeper Aurora: clue is in the name Lawrence: yh but its stopped Lawrence: we’re in carlisle Aurora: what’s it like in Carlisle x Lawrence: dark

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but it tickled her far more than it should, and she found herself laughing far too hard at the message.

Aurora: how much ru lookin forward to this bein over now x Lawrence: oh loads babes Lawrence: cant wait to bring that cake stand to Glasgow x Veronica:keep dreaming Lawrence Aurora: unlikely lol x

On second thoughts, the teasing and the laughter were a balm for her worried mind right now, and Aurora found she was laughing more than she had all week at their conversation.

Sleep is overrated anyway.

——

The tent looked huge and imposing, but Aurora was still not at the front to her relief. If Lawrence had gone home last week - not that Aurora had ever expected her to - Aurora thought she would have squirmed at the front under the gaze of the judges. Especially now, with just the three of them left, their voices echoing like a vast cave, all of their heartbeats just sounding amplified as they hammered against their ribs.

It’s the finale. I made it.

Aurora glanced at the two badges she’d won. The same amount as Lawrence, with Veronica having one to her name. But as they’d seen from previous series, the amount of times someone had won Star Baker was not an indicator as to who would win the whole thing. But it certainly gave both her and Lawrence a minor edge, and both of them a swell in their chests.

Everything felt new and fresh. Lawrence had re-dyed her hair, blue this time, the vibrant colour almost a distraction in itself. Veronica had new black nails which she tapped on the workbench, and her roots had been redone. Aurora hadn’t thought to do any of that, so she was pleased to still be at the back.

Her turquoise KitchenAid still glistened like new, the workbench sparkled with the glassy varnish, and the cupboards and shelves around in their pastel colours made the summer air feel all the more fresh and clean. She glanced over at Veronica, her own green KitchenAid in the same state, and Lawrence’s Cadbury purple one too.

I wonder if I can pinch the KitchenAid after filming without the crew noticing.

——

Signature: 12 iced doughnuts - 6 ring, 6 filled

If there was one thing Aurora hated doing, it was piping filling into something as fiddly as a doughnut. They’d have to cool down, be hollowed, and then filled, a really fiddly process.

It was the hardest day in the tent by far. The morning was rainy, light rain that almost felt like it wasn’t there, and the air was sticky and humid, pushing the temperature in the tent up, especially with the deep fat fryers they’d been provided for the doughnuts.

Aurora chewed her lip so hard that it bled, piping mixture, watching them all closely in the deep fat fryer, filling up her jam piping bag and spinning it so tightly that it threatened to burst and cover her in sticky apricot jam.

In front of her, Lawrence groaned a few times as she battled against the heat and the doughnuts as they spat in the fryer, while Veronica was wringing her hands at the dough as it came out of her own fryer.

“Too soft,” she muttered, followed by “God, too hard,” at the next batch.

By the time judging came, with Prue back from her illness this week, Aurora had almost forgotten what she’d flavoured them with, but she wasn’t alone. Across from her, Veronica stuttered as she spoke about her doughnuts, while Lawrence just pushed her hair back at the question.

“Don’t know,” she’d mused to the judges, some of the old humour returning to her voice. “Started making them, had a breakdown, and here they are. Enjoy!”

The judges all laughed, but Aurora caught a glint in Lawrence’s eye, and the same thought passed between them both.

It’s not a lie!

All of them had similar critiques. Unanimously told they had good flavours, good bakes, and good designs, it was becoming virtually impossible to differentiate between them. How were they going to decide a winner?

“How are they going to do this?” Veronica said aloud to the room, as they sat in Norton Hall (not Carr Hall, Aurora said to herself) waiting for the Technical challenge to begin.

“Not a fucking clue.” Lawrence sighed.

“Are any of you thinking about today though?” Aurora asked. “Are you just thinking about the Showstopper tomorrow too?”

Lawrence and Veronica both nodded slowly, none of them looking at each other.

“Are you all … doing the same thing as I am?”

Lawrence and Veronica just continued nodding.

None of them even needed to say a word. They all knew.

——

Technical: Victoria Sponge (no recipe)

Technical sounded daunting at first glance, but Aurora tried to reason with her worried mind. Baking a Vicky sponge from scratch with no instructions? Please. Aurora baked a Vicky sponge twice a month for the local shelter. She could probably have done it in her sleep.

But the pressure cooker of the tent just made everything go up in smoke in her brain.

Her nan’s voice rang in her head for the proportions that she used to use. Two, two, two, and two eggs. But two what? Two cake tins? Two bowls? Two competitors? No, two pounds. When would her nan come into the new millennium and learn that no one talked about measurements in pounds and ounces any more?

“Lawrence?” She leaned forward.

“Alright, babes?”

“How much is two pounds in grams again?”

Lawrence was frowning. “What?”

“Please - just tell me. I know it’s a competition and all -“

“I’m not trying to stitch you up hen, I genuinely don’t know, I don’t use pounds and ounces because I entered the twenty-first century a while back.” Lawrence shook her head, holding her hands up in surrender. “What do you need it for anyway?”

“Recipe,” Aurora said, her already-hammering heart feeling like it could break her ribs.

“What’s up, love?” That was Veronica’s voice. Aurora closed her eyes, wracking her brain, but Lawrence’s voice pierced the gloom.

“How much is a pound in grams, d’you know?”

“Yeah,” came Veronica’s in response, “a pound is about four hundred and fifty grams. Y’know, you can also go the other way. A kilo is two point two pounds. What do you need that for, yours is already whisking?”

“No, Rory’s having a meltdown, and not with the butter.”

Jesus Dawn French Christ, Lawrence.

A hand met her shoulder, and Aurora was astonished to see Veronica at her side.

“You alright, love?”

She held her gaze for a long time, unflinching, but her eyes were softer than ever, and her hand was surprisingly warm and calming as she rubbed Aurora’s shoulder.

“Yeah. Just - this,” Aurora waved her hands, encompassing the whole tent. Maybe that was absurd to an outside observer, but Veronica knew. Veronica understood.

“I looked at your instagram,” Veronica said quietly, “and I know you bake cakes loads, so I know you can knock this one right out of the park, alright? And you know that too. I mean, I can’t remember a thing about making jam now! And I’m probably going overboard with my sugar. But hey, it’s the finale! I can’t be sent home now!”

Veronica shrugged, her face split in a grin that bordered on maniacal, and Aurora had to admit that she had a point. She took a shaky inhale, then let it out.

“Look, I know you miss Tayce,” Veronica dropped her voice even lower, her hand squeezing her shoulder now, “because I’ve missed Tia since alt week. And we know Lawrence is missing Ellie, even though she’d probably rather move to London and take up Morris dancing than admit that.”

“You say that, but I can do that accent, I’ve watched Eastenders,” Lawrence called over her shoulder. “And I won’t be any worse than Dick Van Dyke.”

“We’re all missing everyone,” Veronica said, and Aurora knew she didn’t mean everyone, “but you don’t need Tayce to be able to bake. You can do it on your own. You’ve done it loads before this show, and you’ll do it again!”

“I can’t,” Aurora heard her fear contradict her in a whisper.

“You can,” Veronica said firmly, her gaze now stern. “You can do this.”

Aurora took a deep breath, held for four, and let it out for five.

“I can.”

“That’s it, love,” Veronica said, nodding and starting to walk away.

——

“Here’s to the last time we’re here as a three,” Aurora said, raising her glass along with Lawrence and Veronica. One of the producers had brought in a bottle of champagne, and even though Aurora didn’t really like the bubbles very much - they tickled her nose - she accepted the glass that was poured for her.

“How much does everyone remember about today?” Veronica asked, her arms and legs crossed on the sofa. “Because I can’t remember a bloody thing. I can’t even remember what the judges said about that piece of crap that my Vicky sponge turned out to be. Did I come last?”

“Yeah,” Aurora nodded. “Was nothing in it, though. We were all shit.”

“Speak for yourselves,” Lawrence muttered, a hint of her old mischievous glint back in her eye.

“And tomorrow we’re recording the finale,” Aurora sighed, swirling the champagne. “Five hours in a tent, followed by half an hour break, followed by presenting the Showstoppers, followed by the garden party, followed by our speeches. And then filming three endings. Where one of us wins each time.”

“It’s gonna be worth it by the end, though,” Veronica said brightly.

“Who’s gonna come from your family, Lawrence?” Aurora asked.

“My parents, my cousin Chloe, and my best pal Stinky Pete.” Lawrence grinned. “Can’t wait to see them. And who have you two got?”

“Uhm,” Aurora frowned. “I know Blake’s coming, and my nan, but I thought you could only invite two people?”

“Mine said four,” Lawrence replied. “God, you really can’t count, can you?”

“What about you?” Aurora asked, motioning to Veronica with her glass.

“My mum’s coming and my brother.” She twitched her shoulders. “None of my friends could get time off. Shame, really.”

Aurora nodded, sipping her champagne, trying to hold off on sneezing through the bubbles. “And the others.”

“Can’t wait,” Veronica smiled her usual pinched, nervous smile, her leg jogging. “I’ve missed them all. Tia especially, but I’ve missed them all. I wonder who they all think will win?”

“And Ellie still owes me a tenner for that Puff the Magic Dragon shit that she thought Tayce’s biccies were,” Lawrence mused.

Aurora pursed her lips at Tayce’s name, but pushed it to the back of her mind. What mattered now was not Tayce, but the fact that her eyes were drooping after not having slept the previous night, and the champagne making her head throb.

“Early one?” Veronica’s sigh must have read been a telepathic projection, because they all stood in unison and trailed each other up the stairs to their respective rooms, ready to pass out and begin everything again in the morning.

——

Showstopper: A picnic for a fellow contestant - to include one celebration cake, 12 savoury pastries, and 12 patisserie.

When the three of them had seen the Showstopper for the weekend, right after Tayce’s elimination, they’d all nodded knowingly to each other.

This one has been just …made for us all.

It was obvious. It was blatantly obvious that everything that had happened had been noticed by the producers, and the staff, and everyone with eyes and without them too, that all three of the finalists were missing someone.

Veronica was setting her alarms up, all five of them as usual, before dragging her ingredients from the bag she kept. On her workbench, she’d gently placed a photo Tia had taken of some landscape or other. Lawrence had laid all her ingredients out on a baby pink tablecloth that complimented the purple of her own KitchenAid.

Aurora only had one thing to remind her of Tayce. She’d gone into a charity shop in the week with Blake, looking for something he’d seen in the window, and had found something that Blake had gasped at.

“It’s a Welsh love spoon!” He’d thrust the small wooden spoon into Aurora’s hand, and she’d turned it over and over silently in her fingers, marvelling at the twisting pattern on the handle, curling into a heart shape at the top.

“That’s fate, that is,” Blake had nodded. “You’ve got to get that.”

Aurora set the spoon now on the counter top, resting against her own KitchenAid for now, as she ran back through the timings again in her head, and what she was planning.

The twelve savoury pastries were easy. Puff pastry sausage rolls with added baked beans and cheese. Even if Prue didn’t like baked beans, that was all Tayce seemed to be eating every breakfast time.

Screw what Prue likes. This isn’t for her.

The cake? It had taken some thought. Black Forest gateau with a mirror glaze to top it off, not something she knew if Tayce liked, but something that felt sophisticated and stylish. And the deep purple of the blackberries was a colour that Tayce loved.

The patisserie was the hardest one, but she’d settled on millefeuille, similar to some that she made before for her nan’s seventy-fifth birthday, delicate and decorative, fragile-looking but built to stand tall. Not to mention they tasted so good that the world ceased to exist when someone bit into one.

“It’s like they’re all back here, isn’t it?”

Veronica’s voice was quiet, but happy. Lawrence’s intake of breath was shaky, but she didn’t turn to face her, focusing on her bake.

“You’ve got a tin of baked beans on your workbench, Aurora, it’s so surreal! And Lawrence, you’ve got so much pink on your workbench today.” Veronica motioned to the pink fondant she’d made, pink icing, pink glaze, pink cake filling. Pink and white marshmallows, pink jam … every shade of pink imaginable. Lawrence just gave a snort and shook her head.

It was meant to be the hardest challenge yet, but it definitely didn’t feel that way. The tent heated up with the warm sunshine outside and the combination of ovens and bakers and inside, but as soon as nerves started manifesting, the three of them were all there to diffuse them all for each other.

When Lawrence started dropping her utensils, both Aurora and Veronica were at her side in an instant to grab her hands and calm her down before she started panicking. When Veronica clung to the edge of her workbench, motionless, Lawrence and Aurora were both there beside her to talk her down.

But when the last ten minutes were called …

Shit.

Aurora felt cold fear creep back up her chest. She still had the millefeuille to assemble. She’d done three, but nine remained. And the puff pastry had to come out of the oven. And the glaze needed to be poured over the cake for it to set into a mirror in time -

“Aurora?” That was Lawrence, with Veronica on her heels. “You’re making a squeaky whiny noise like a balloon letting out air. What d’you need?”

“But - ten minutes - your own bakes -“

As Aurora flapped, the other two simply ran round her side and started doing it without needing her to tell them. Soon all her pastries were on the tray, and the cake was out the fridge, the glaze ready to go.

“You pipe, I’ll load,” Veronica muttered, and she did just that, while Lawrence put the cake onto the metal tray, jogging back from her own workbench where she’d had to finish off one of her own patisseries, and as Aurora finished piping the last millefeuille …

“Bakers! You have five minutes on your final Showstopper!”

They were all pulling out the stops, dashing between all three of their benches. Veronica was throwing gold leaf around like it was confetti. Lawrence was covered in icing sugar, the sweet scent filling the air. Aurora poured the deep purple onto the cake, praying to the Monster gods that it would set into a mirror glaze in time …

“Time is up! The final Showstopper has finished! Congratulations, bakers!”

The whole world seemed to crumble at Noel’s words.

Aurora looked at the mountain of food she’d produced, everything that reminded her of Tayce, and she knew then that serving this would mean serving a slice of her heart to the nation. And that was the plan all along.

Everything in her body ached, her bones were hollow, her breathing felt too loud alongside the deafening roar of blood in her ears. But as she leaned on the workbench, surveying the amount of work she’d done, she felt a tickle at the back of her throat, and suddenly she was laughing, so hard that she felt like she’d never stop. And then so was Veronica. Then Lawrence began too.

They were all cackling, all three of them, delirious with delight. Noel and Matt came to congratulate them, clapping as they did so, and then Veronica came out from her bench to hug Lawrence, and Aurora ran to join in, and the three of them were suddenly hugging, laughing, sobbing, cheering into each others’ ears.

Until they were all too weak to speak.

——

Aurora, first alphabetically, was going to be the first out of the tent with her final Showstopper, to make her way to the garden party that was always put on for friends and family for the grand finale.

All her bakes were on an enormous tray and she carried it, with Noel on her left and Matt on her right, all three of them bearing the load. Aurora was flabbergasted that nothing was moving, nothing was falling, but everything was still and settled.

As soon as she stepped outside the tent for the first time, she was met by a blast of noise like heat from a furnace.

Clapping, cheers, whoops, laughter. The crowd at the garden party was friends, family, co-workers, film crew, all the staff of Norton Hall, and of course Blu and Cheryl. She caught sight and sound of her nan - her nan! - her accent and her distinctive nasal voice above the rest of the crowd, bless. And Blake, waving his hands in the air and cupping them to his mouth to howl at the sky.

And the rest of the contestants, waiting with the biggest smiles, with applause, with cheers and shouts that drowned out everything else that was happening.

Tayce was in the centre. And Aurora had never seen her look so happy.

She rested the tray at the table outside the tent behind her name, and stopped, stunned, blinking so many times at the noise and her senses overloading. How green the grass was, how vibrant the gingham pattern on the table, how blue the sky was above her head, how bright and hot the sun felt on her bare arms.

“Go on, Aurora,” Matt muttered, pointing to the crowd. “You can go and see them!”

Aurora walked slowly, the dream she was in making her legs shake. Her feet were resting on air, two inches above the ground, just above the blades of grass. But she somehow made the walk, the whole twenty-foot walk, away from the tent towards them all, dazed by their overflowing love, their cheers and their applause.

Tayce was beaten in the first hug by Hurricane Ellie, swamping Aurora in her arms; and by the time she’d disentangled herself, Bimini was there, leaping forward and rubbing her arms and beaming at her; followed by a grinning Pip, followed by Joe, still cackling. In fact, everyone seemed to get a turn before Aurora was left with just Tayce, waiting patiently, the grin she wore showing all her teeth, her eyes crinkling in happiness.

“Told you you could do it, bitch!”

——

“I made this spread for Tayce,” Aurora began, still cursing that her name was first alphabetically and she was first up on the podium.

Part of the Showstopper this year was a little speech to the crowd at the garden party. It was meant to be a tear-jerker, obviously, for the viewers to have an emotional finale, but it had just served to make all the bakers pull their hair out while writing a speech about which contestant they were baking for, and why.

“I made it for her because Tayce has been my rock throughout the competition. We were on the back row together, we got through all the first challenges together … she corrected me on the name of the hall for God’s sake, I was calling it Carr Hall for ages!”

The polite laughter tinkled around the grounds.

“Tayce has been an inspiration in so many ways. She’s taught me that … that I can channel my worries into the energy that I use to make a cake or a bread or whatever - and that can be fuel for me, to push me forwards. Tayce showed me that they were just a source of power like anything else. She always told me to relax. Well, chillax. And when I did, I rediscovered that I loved baking.”

Aurora couldn’t look at Tayce, even from this distance. Couldn’t see her eyes. If she did she might burst.

Lawrence and Veronica sat on the chairs next to the tent, next to the judges, waiting their turns, while everyone else sat or stood on the grass; but Aurora’s position on the podium, towering over them all, kept eyes trained on her as she gave her speech about her Showstopper, before everyone would come and eat.

“Me and Tayce,” Aurora’s voice cracked. “Well, we didn’t always get along. It’s a competition, and we all have our eyes on the prize, and that pressure of wanting to be the best got on top of us both at times.”

The silence was only broken by birdsong.

“But Tayce taught me that I do my best when I’m relaxed. When I’m loving what I’m doing. She taught me that my thoughts can be my own worst enemy, especially when I’m thinking about other people.” She paused, glancing back at her cue card, the words jumbling before her eyes. “And most of all she taught me that - that I ama great baker. That …”

The lump in her throat was back, the fear creeping up her windpipe to strangle her words. She shook her head defiantly.

“That I am more than capable, that I’m skilled, and that I’m … loveable. She held up a mirror for me. So I made one for her too. Thanks, Tayce.”

More polite laughter, followed by applause, as she indicated the mirror glaze cake.

Finally, she met Tayce’s eyes, and as soon as she did, her own burned with unshed tears, emotion swelling in her like a tidal wave.

But Tayce too, her lip quivered, not even noticing the others around her or their applause. She opened her mouth, and her lips moved, but only for Aurora.

“Love you, bitch.”

Aurora managed to mouth back to her while applause rang in the air.

“Love you, too.”

——

“Ellie’s gonna hate me for this,” Lawrence muttered into the microphone, and Aurora looked over at the crowd, Ellie already shaking with silent laughter with her hands over her mouth. “I made a spread for her. She probably wasn’t expecting it, it rains too much to ever have a picnic outside in Dundee, poor bitch has probably never seen the sun -“

“Lawrence,” Matt Lucas piped up, “just a reminder that this will air before the 9pm watershed.”

“So I can’t say bitch? Fuck’s sake!” Lawrence put her hands on her hips.

Aurora put a hand to her mouth to stop herself from making too much noise, but laughing this much was making tears stream down her face; and Veronica, sat next to her, leaned into her arm, also shaking, stuffing her fist into her mouth to silence herself.

“Anyway, I made all this pink stuff for Ellie. And not just because Team Scotland has to stick together,” she added, as Ellie whooped in the crowd, “but because she really has been the best friend I could have made here.”

Veronica let out a cough that sounded a great deal like ‘sexual tension’ and she and Aurora spluttered with laughter.

“And ignore the peanut gallery over there,” Lawrence motioned to Veronica without even looking. “Because first and foremost, Ellie has been a great friend to me. She sat with me when I was upset when I did something wrong, and she was the first to celebrate anything I got right - even if it was at her expense.”

“Aww,” Veronica murmured next to Aurora.

“I take everything really seriously. I take baking to heart. If I’m not good at something, it freaks me out, because I’m usedto being good at everything I try. Gifted kid syndrome, if you know you know.” Lawrence thumped her chest. “But Ellie just has fun with it all. She taught me that you can have fun with something without necessarily needing to be perfect at it. There isn’t a yardstick of quality to having fun. And even if I’m not good at something, it doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth the time.”

Ellie was now quiet, as the others turned to watch her, but she was only looking at Lawrence, oblivious to everyone around her as the grin on her face quivered with emotion.

“Ellie is fun. And I wanted to make something that would be fun, and also her. That’s why there’s a lot more pink than I’m used to,” Lawrence continued, motioning to the huge pink cake and the pink icing on the choux buns she’d made.

“When I was unsure of myself, Ellie reminded me of what I could do. But she also reminded me that I should be having fun. That’s the reason I made this for her. Because baking should be fun, and should be something you don’t take too seriously. And once I got that, I loved it.”

As everyone applauded again, Lawrence gave the crowd a thumbs up, pushing her hair out of her eyes, looking as if she wanted to get off the podium as fast as possible.

——

“Come on Veronica,” Aurora muttered under her breath.

Veronica looked very short, smaller than usual, even on the podium, the microphone somewhere at her forehead before she adjusted it to her mouth. She licked her lips; her eyes darted to the crowd, to Aurora and Lawrence sat separate to them all, to the judges, and then down to her note paper again.

“Well,” Veronica said for what felt like the fortieth time, another giggle escaping her lips. “Hello, everyone.”

“She’s bombing,” Lawrence muttered.

“She’s just too nervous,” Aurora nodded.

“Right. So. I made this spread for Tia, you know this now, because there’s a sign saying Tea or Coffee on it, I thought that was a nice - erm, a nice touch.”

“God.” Lawrence put a hand to her chest.

Aurora watched as Veronica took a deep breath, held it for a second, and let it out slowly, the silence only interrupted by birdsong.

“I - I’m a perfectionist. If it’s not perfect, I don’t want it. If something is out, even by ten grams, even by a centimetre, I just want to throw it out and never look at it again.”

Veronica repeated the deep breath, clenching the podium, her knuckles white.

“Me and Tia just clicked. We’re quite similar, me and her. We have the same humour, we like the same police dramas and murder mystery documentaries, we both like art and drawing and stuff -”

“Since when does Veronica like drawing?”

“You need to check her instagram page,” Lawrence muttered back, “it’s all artwork.”

“- but the one thing me and Tia didn’t have in common was baking. Tia’s an amazing baker. But something about that tent - as soon as she was in it, she kept making a mess of everything, she won’t mind my saying that; and I know she got really frustrated, but she never wanted to quit. She just always wanted to get better.”

Veronica was tearing up, it was evident even from this distance, her white knuckles shaking. Tia, in the crowd, squirmed for her, clutching Pip’s hand as Veronica fought to get some more words out.

“Tia taught me that it’s fine to make mistakes.”

Another long pause.

“Not that - I don’t mean that Tia is always making mistakes! She does a lot of stuff really great! But she taught me that being perfect is basically impossible. And that I can trust myself if something goes wrong, that I can trust myself to be able to fix it, and not just give up.”

Tia dabbed her eyes with her free hand, shuffling nearer to Pip, who had a hand on her own chest in sympathy.

“Because she doesn’t give up. She just wants to do better. And I love that about her. I wish I’d put less pressure on myself when I first got in there, trying to be perfect at everything, instead of trying to be my best, and getting better by making mistakes.”

Veronica finally seemed to be settling, the rare smile appearing.

“She showed me that making mistakes is fine, and it doesn’t mean I’m a failure, it means I’m a person. And she - her bakes were amazing, and lovely, and she’s such a genuine person that everyone in the tent fell in love with her. Well,” she paused, looking up, “I did.”

Tia’s jaw dropped as she clutched at her chest, leaning into Pip at her side, tears falling freely down her face now as the rest of them clapped, while Veronica’s smile widened, her own tears falling too.

“That’s so …” Aurora murmured, not realising she was holding Lawrence’s hand.

“… cheesy,” Lawrence muttered, but her voice had a crack in it.

��—

Aurora’s nan got the first hug when she went over to her family. Her best friend Blake had the second, patting her heavily on the back.

“So which one is the one you made all the cake for then?” Her nan motioned to the crowd of contestants, who had been mostly all mingling together, now breaking off to sit with the crew and each other.

“Tayce is - oh, she’s here.”

Tayce, appearing from somewhere, plonked herself on the grass by the picnic blanket and helped herself to a sausage roll. “Oi oi, saveloy! Oh, these look nice! You put baked beans in them?” Tayce grinned. “You know me like the back of your hand, Rory!”

“Beans on toast was your go-to breakfast, wasn’t it?”

“Oh god, yeah,” Tayce nodded. “Breakfast of kings! The only breakfast! If I could have beans on toast for the rest of my life, I’d die happy. A bit flatulent, but happy.”

She looped her arm through Aurora’s waist, planting a kiss on her lips, before picking up a pastry, leaving Aurora floating just a little from the contact.

“So are you two dating now?” Blake asked, his eyes wide as saucers, hoping for gossip as usual.

Aurora met Tayce’s gaze; they hadn’t really discussed anything official yet. Tayce’s smile was strangely shy, and her eyes earnest, a thousand questions behind them; but as they both nodded simultaneously, it felt like they could work out the details a little bit later.

“Yep!” They both exclaimed at the same time.

Tayce reached down and grasped Aurora’s hand. “And you’re the first to hear about it - not the tabloids, not Hello magazine!”

“You’re not just putting it on for the cameras, are you?” Aurora’s nan teased, wagging her finger at the pair of them.

Tayce turned to glance at Aurora, the same thought passing between them both.

“No way,” they both said at the same time, to a snort of laughter from Blake.

There had been a time, not too long ago, that Aurora might have taken the question as a cue to overthink, overanalyse - but that thought didn’t even exist any more. Instead of being like ducks, kicking to stay on the surface, they now just floated effortlessly.

Aurora just squeezed Tayce’s hand.

Everything was falling into place.

——

“Taking into account your final bakes, and your performances throughout the series, we’ve made our final decision.”

Aurora’s left hand was numb; Lawrence was cutting off the circulation to it.

They all stood before the judges, filming the first of the three endings to keep the actual winner a secret from everyone. This would be Aurora’s win; they’d then film Lawrence’s and finally Veronica’s. For now, they all stood in line; Aurora at Lawrence’s right and Veronica at her left.

Prue held the cake stand, the Bake Off emblem engraved in the glass, all of them in a line waiting for the decision, while the crowd stood impatient, ready to put on a show to congratulate them all.

“You’re all incredible bakers, the best in the UK,” Prue continued from Paul’s speech, “and this was the most difficult season by a long way to judge. You’re all so skilled, imaginative, and clever, and I know you’ll all go on to amazing things after this is over.”

Lawrence’s hand was shaking in Aurora’s; and she could hear Veronica’s breathing on her other side.

This is it.

“The winner of the Great British Bake Off is …”

Complete silence.

Even the birdsong had waned in the background.

A silence that seemed to last an eternity.

Aurora watched Prue’s mouth, wondering when she would open it again, put them all out of their misery, Veronica’s breath audible through the silence and Lawrence’s hand sweating in hers and Aurora’s heart must be the loudest thing in the whole country right now at the rate it hammered her ribs -

——

EPILOGUE

October 2021

Tayce had had to let Aurora go for Blu to wield the camera at the three finalists on the smallest of the neverending number of sofas in Pip’s sister’s house. Lawrence in the middle of the three, all squashed together on what was really a two-person sofa, but they’d all linked arms and interlocked their fingers, staring at the screen, watching themselves.

“I’m never gonna get used to being on screen,” Tia mused, shaking her head. “I swear I don’t sound like that.”

“You do, you definitely do.”

But Tia was only half paying attention to Tayce’s words, her attention on Veronica, who was ignoring her, staring enraptured at the screen. Lawrence, on the other hand, kept glancing over to see Ellie, both of them doing that strange thing they did in filming yet again, just able to know when the other was looking over at them to make sure they were alright.

Tayce tried to relax, hands in her lap, but her chest fluttered every time she met Aurora’s gaze.

The finale had been Tayce’s favourite episode to watch, simply because she hadn’t been in it. The element of surprise was there as she watched it, although it was there for all of them, because there the finalists were, on the screen, still waiting for the winner to be announced.

It must be between Aurora and Lawrence. Veronica only has one badge; it probably won’t be her.

“The winner of the Great British Bake Off is …”

The painful zoom of the camera on everyone’s faces. Aurora’s nervous smile, pure yet heartbreaking. Lawrence looking at the sky to stop herself from crying, both her hands occupied by another finalist. Veronica, her stare intent with anticipation, chewing her bottom lip.

“Aurora!”

The room erupted.

Cheryl was jumping up and down, the first at the sofa to hug Aurora as she sat still as a statue, hands at her mouth and eyes agape in shock, as Lawrence pulled her tightly to herself, planting a delighted kiss in her hair.

“It’s you!” Veronica shrieked, shaking her knee, “it’s you! You won! You won the whole thing!”

And then everyone else streamed in to hug her. Pip was first - Pip was always the first to lay a comforting hand - Tia was close on her heels - Ginny’s hands looped round her neck from behind and their eyes crinkled in joy - but Aurora still sat frozen, only her rapid blinking suggesting anyone was home at all.

Tayce felt time stop again, but this time in a moment of perfection and not defeat.

The contest environment evaporated, she couldn’t fathom feeling anything but pure elation for Aurora’s win, couldn’t fathom having felt any other way for this wonderful woman who she was lucky enough to now call her girlfriend, sat with her hands at her mouth and silent tears coursing down her face as Blu pointed a camera at it.

“Aurora! It’s you! It’s you!” Blu was patting her knee while the rest of them excitedly hugged and squeezed at her. “Do you have any words for us right now, or is it a bit overwhelming?”

“It’s - what - I can’t believe it!”

Aurora’s phone was buzzing on the dining room table, undoubtedly hundreds of friends and family calling and texting and tagging her in Instagram posts and tweets, congratulations spilling over from every direction, an outpouring of love and support and adoration.

The programme was still running, footage of Prue and Paul giving their final summaries of Aurora, and the other two finalists - other contestants giving sound bites - Aurora’s finalist speech as her face was red with tears - the where are they now segment starting to play for all the contestants.

Pip back at her day job, giving the camera a thumbs up, followed by a snap of her with Ginny at Blackpool Tower and a video of them both on the Big One. Joe reliving that Instagram video again, and clips of Cherry, Ellie and Asttina all trying to recreate it too. Cherry back at the dog-grooming business she worked for, and walking her own dog. Asttina back at the gym, followed by a photo of her and Bimini on a boat on the Thames. Bimini at their laptop, followed by pictures of them holding the childrens’ book they’d written since the show. Ellie’s move to Glasgow, a clip of her dyeing Lawrence’s hair back to the bright purple it was now. Tia and Veronica somewhere in the Lake District, windswept but with smiles a mile wide.

But Tayce didn’t see or hear any of it. Aurora was the only thing she could see.

And as she stumbled towards Tayce, draping herself into her arms and laughing in delight, Tayce held her as tightly as she could, crushing her eyes shut but not stopping her own tears, her heart bursting for Aurora as she was privileged to share this moment of exhilarated happiness with her …

She’s already a Star Baker. She doesn’t need a badge or a title.

But she’s got both now! And hopefully she can know that she’s a Star Baker as much as we all do!

——

THE END

#rpdr fanfiction #down with the recipe #rpdr uk #juno #uk2 #baking au #gbbo au #taywhora #tayce #a'whora #bimini bon boulash #veronica green #lawrence chaney #ellie diamond #ginny lemon #asttina mandella #tia kofi #fluff #lesbian au

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galahadwilder · 5 years ago

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We Are Miraculous, Ch. 4: Full

This chapter was sponsored by @alexseanchai. Sponsor a fic chapter here!

We Are Miraculous Archive

AO3

With thanks to @alexseanchai and @paganinpurple

When Adrien comes back from whatever it was he had to do so urgently, he seems a lot calmer. Nino's glad—he's just watched two of his closest friends have barely-averted meltdowns over a vicious op-ed directed at someone else, and he's not sure how to help either of them. Oh, he can put on a happy face and try to cheer them up, sure, but it doesn't change how useless he feels. And how little he thinks it's going to work.

He misses his bubbles. He used to carry a bubble wand everywhere he went—now his hands shake every time he even looks at one, and he can barely even muster the energy to hate Hawkmoth for taking them from him.

"Doing any better?" Nino says as Adrien trudges down the steps of François DuPont, hands in his pockets. He's standing straighter than he was when he left.

"Yeah," Adrien says with a small smile. He isn't rocking anymore the way he was in class, and when he speaks he actually manages to meet Nino's eyes, so... that's a good sign.

"Dad stuff?" Nino says. He wants to put his arm around Adrien's shoulder—physical contact usually helps the dude, he gets so little of it in his everyday life—but Nino knows from Chris and Mari that sensory overload usually responds poorly to extra stimulation. (He's been doing a lot of research into mental health since Enzo... well, since Enzo. He tugs on his hat. He's surprised that he didn't react much to Caron's diatribes. But, then again, not that surprised.)

Adrien shakes his head. "No, not—not this time," he says. His lips twist, and Nino waits for him to elaborate further, but he says nothing.

Nino nods. "Come on," he says. "I'm taking you to Marinette's and we are going to stuff you with sugar until you forget all about what's bothering you."

Adrien perks up at that, a glint in his eyes, and Nino's heart lifts a little at the sight.

Every step towards the bakery, Adrien relaxes a little more. Nino’s not sure who he called—he hopes it’s a therapist, because sweet turtle god does he need one—but it definitely helped.

Adrien pushes through the door first, all nervous energy, half-excitement and half-fear, while Nino trudges after him. The lunch rush is in full swing, so the bakery floor is packed, but Sabine still catches sight of them as soon as they walk through the door.

”Hello, boys!” she calls over the crowd with a welcoming smile.

”Hi, Sabine,” Nino says.

Adrien waves nervously, shrinking imperceptibly toward the outer wall. Too many people.

Nino catches his eye. “I’ll order,” he says. “Your usual?”

Adrien swallows and nods.

Waiting in line doesn’t take very long, not that Nino minds. He’s not particularly hungry and he doesn’t really think about inconvenience; as long as Adrien’s okay, it doesn’t really matter. (He is going to have to eat, though. Doctor’s orders.)

He gets to the front of the line and places his and Adrien’s orders just as Tom comes bustling out of the back with a tray of sticky buns. “Oh, Nino!” he says. “We missed you at Mecha Strike last week.”

Nino shakes his head with a rueful smile plastered on his face. “Sorry, dude,” he says. “Other commitments, you know how it is.” He feels guilty for the fib, and guiltier for being unable to drag himself out of bed to see his friend. But that was last week.

”The girls are having lunch in the park,” Sabine says conspiratorially as she hands him a paper bag with his and Adrien’s lunches in it, as well as two cardboard cups. “I’m sure they’d love for you two to join them.” She adds a small wink as she presses the button on the register to process his (heavily discounted) meal.

”I’ll be sure to do that,” he says, feeling a brief spark of mischief light up his brain before burning out.

He pushes through the crowd and the jingling door to find Adrien waiting outside at the patio table. “Hey, dude,” he says, handing Adrien his hot chocolate. “Feeling better?”

Adrien nods, taking the hot chocolate in both hands and sniffing the steam. “Nectar of the Gods,” he murmurs with delight.

”Sabine said Alya and Mari are having lunch in the park, if you want to join them,” Nino says. He hopes Adrien agrees. He still needs to check on Marinette.

”Yeah, I’m down,” Adrien says without looking up from his drink.

“Oh! Adrien!”

Nino doesn’t miss the way Adrien deflates at the sound of Lila’s voice. He’s not sure why Adrien dislikes her so much—as far as he can tell, Lila’s a perfectly pleasant, if a bit overenthusiastic, person. But she makes Adrien uncomfortable and as far as this goes, that’s all Nino really needs to know.

”Hey Lila!” Nino says with more cheer than he feels, putting a hand protectively on Adrien’s shoulder. “Adrien and I were just having a little guys’ lunch.” He tries to emphasize the word guys, tell her ‘leave us alone, please.’

”Oh!” Lila says. “Mind if I join?” She latches onto Adrien’s arm before either of them can speak, and Nino glances at Adrien—he’s gone tense, frozen. He’s not gonna say anything and if Nino does he might freak.

”Sure,” Nino grumbles. “Why not.” This is not good—Adrien’s rarely this nonverbal for this length of time. Whatever peace his call at the beginning of lunch had brought him, Lila’s just shattered, and Nino has no idea how to make her leave. He wishes she knew how uncomfortable she makes Adrien, but she seems a bit too oblivious to catch on.

”Can you believe that Caron piece?” Lila says as they walk into the park. “It was so uncalled for!” She purses her lips and shakes her head. “I told Ladybug that video might be a bad idea, but she insisted it was important to her.” She sighs dreamily. “She’s so brave.”

Adrien grunts, and Nino flinches at the sound. But then he spots Alya and Marinette on a picnic blanket nearby, laughing and sharing croissants, and he relaxes a bit.

Alya’s head pops up, and she brightens when she sees them. “Oh, hi guys!” She says. “Come join us!”

”Of course!” Lila giggles, dragging Adrien after her and yanking him down to the blanket. Nino doesn’t miss the way Marinette bristles, and all he can think is, please don’t start this again.

“Oh, Lila, I have something for you!” Alya says, reaching into her bag. She flips open the top and produces... a bottle of mouthwash? She presents it to Lila with a proud flourish. “Here you go!”

The whole group falls into utter silence as Lila stares at the green bottle in Alya’s hands. “I—what?” the Italian girl says, weakly. Her face is pale and she looks like she’s about to puke.

"Oh, I thought...” Alya’s face falls. “Nevermind. Sorry.” She turns to stuff the bottle back into her backpack.

Lila’s face blanches further and she shoots to her feet. “I—I just remembered,” she says. “Mama needed me home today for—we’re, we’re organizing some charity work, so I need to go—”

”Of course!” Alya laughs, waving. “Good luck.”

Lila bolts.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, Alya’s genuine grin turns savage. “Should’ve taken the mouthwash,” she growls. “Maybe it’ll clean the aftertaste of the bullshit you’re spewing.”

Marinette covers her mouth and giggles, her face red, and Adrien stares at Alya before collapsing into his back. “Thank god,” he says.

”Uh,” Nino says. “What was that?”

Alya sighs and rolls her eyes. "Remember how I told Marinette to fact-check Lila?"

Marinette winces at the words.

"Yeah?" Nino says. Ugh, he doesn’t want to have this discussion again—

Alya twists her lips and wraps her arm around Mari’s shoulder, pulling her in close. "Well, she did,” Alya says. “And now I feel like an idiot."

Nino blinks, an ember of dull rage sparking in his chest. She was lying? About—about everything?

Lila was—Marinette has always been someone he trusts. He may not understand why she's so insistent on hiding the anxiety attacks she has whenever there's an Akuma, and her excuses are getting ridiculous, but he grew up with her—she's never been someone who lied before. And he always knew Lila was kind of a flake. But the person Mari’s accusations posited couldn't possibly have existed—she'd painted a picture of absolutely comic pettiness and villainy—on level with Adrien’s dad. And Lila is actually like that? He can barely believe someone like that exists at their age.

Much as he's wanted to, he hasn't really been able to care about the Basielberg connection after that first day. But he's not the only one Lila hurt.

He glances at Adrien as a number of things start to click in his head. “Is that why you’re so uncomfortable around her?”

”She hurt Marinette,” Adrien says without picking up his head. Nino can tell he has more to say, but he doesn't seem to want to.

Marinette looks down at her sandwich, steadily reddening. “She hurt you too, you know,” she whispers.

”And nobody gets to hurt either of you again,” Alya says, lightly punching Marinette’s shoulder.

Marinette winces, laughing, then her laugh slows and she goes back to a small smile, laying herself across Alya's lap. "I've missed this," she says.

Nino looks around, sees his friends, how comfortable they are now for the first time since Lila came back to school, and thinks, so did I.

We Are Miraculous Archive

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soul-of-sapphire · 5 years ago

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* { Life Update, kinda?}

* { Wow is it dead over here or what? As awful as that is, for those that are still around, hi! It's been over a year since my life imploded and I'm still picking at the threads of that trying to figure out where I can go from here. Let's see if I can put things in order of what the hell's happened to me. I've gotten treatment for my BPD, to the point that it is nearly gone. Yay, success!!! I got a new therapist, whose name is totally awesome, to help me slowly build a stable ground to stand on. I've learned so much about myself from her and no longer hate who I am. She's really changed my life. I still have rage issues but it's now manageable to the point I don't have meltdowns! I can actually work through them without the tantrums too! Uhhh. I'm finally being treated for all my weird body shit now that we know what's going on. I basically have the spine of a 84 year old, an old brain trauma injury that's affected my nerves in my neck and head, a disc that is threatening to paralyze me one day, migraines for days due to failed PT affected said nerves in my neck, and some scary looming doctor's appointments for giant needles in my back. At least it's not multiple sclerosis! But it is moderate spinal stenosis! And degenerative disc disease! And osteoarthritis! And fibromyalgia! I also have a girlfriend now!!! She is super sweet and supportive and understanding and we'll be moving in together in just a bit to help each other out. I seriously love this wonderful lady to the ends of the earth and back. I've never realized really how much love one heart can hold for someone until I met her. She's literally the light of my life and beyond. I cant express how happy I am to have met her. Take those chances, yall, it's worth it. Other than that I'm hanging in there. Barely but not dead yet. I have a cat called Atticus now and he recently had to have major surgery on his teeth due to bad genetics and it's really drained everything out of my financial situation. It tackled now and I can deal with it. I have high hopes for the rest of the year, however! With me and my girlfriend moving in I will finally have breathing room to prop up my finances and finally tackle some debt that's keeping me shackled. My goal for the end of this year is to own no one money by the time the ball drops on 2021. So that's about it. Everything is rocky right now but I'm hanging on and I am determined to tackle it. }

#ooc;;

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let-it-raines · 6 years ago

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I was reading this "ex prompt list" and while I want you to write all of them, I really liked this one: "You talk about me in your new song and I get mad over it, so I’m standing outside your apartment door to argue, only to see you open the door half naked." Thank you, darling! You're a gift!

She’s on her way home from work when she hears it. Listening to the radio isn’t something she does, not anymore, but her car can’t connect to her phone’s Bluetooth and she forgot the aux cord, so it was either the radio or silence.

She probably should have stayed in silence.

Because for the first time in three months, for the first time since she was in Target and heard one of his songs over the speakers, she hears his voice.

And she hates it.

But she apparently hates herself a little bit more because she doesn’t change the station or turn the radio off. She doesn’t recognize the opening chords to this song. She recognizes the chords to every song. She knows all of the lyrics, all of the rifts and pauses. She knows everything.

But she doesn’t know this one.

It’s quiet, sullen, the usually prominent instruments muted in the background so that his voice comes through as clearly as possible. It takes her thirty seconds and two references of a swan flying away – really subtle there, Jones – for her to realize that the song is about her. She has to pull over to the side of the road, making several different cars blare their horns at her, but she can’t…she can’t listen to this while driving. She can’t hear him sing a song that’s clearly about their break up. She has to listen, but she can’t do anything else.

She can barely breathe.

He sounds broken. But she knows that’s on purpose. He records those songs a million times over, until he gets them exactly how he wants them to be, so she knows that he’s manufactured it this way. She’s watched him record enough songs to know how things work.

How dare he do this.

How dare he put their private life out there for anyone with ears to hear.

Hot tears sting behind her eyes, and she has to bury her face in her hands while her throat constricts, emotion lodging itself there and making her feel as if she has to vomit. Or as if she can’t breathe. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know anything.

All she knows is that she misses him. She misses Killian.

But right now she hates him for making her relive their breakup, for making her relive the agony that was the weeks and months of separation that inevitably led them to walking away from each other.

Or maybe it was her.

She’s not sure. If anything, it’s all a blur of tears and alcohol, sobs wracking her body while she was unable to feel anything but pain. She’d waited so long to find someone who understood her, who wanted to be with her with no reservations, who wouldn’t leave. But then he had left. It had been for work. She knows this. She understands this. Despite everything, she wants nothing more than for him to be happy and to follow his dreams. She just wishes it didn’t come at the expense of them.

She just wishes she’d been strong enough to handle the months of separation and the way that their schedules never matched up, the way that they were constantly missing each other when they tried to call.

The song ends and immediately something happy, upbeat plays through her speakers. She’s having some kind of meltdown on the side of the road, and the world keeps going by. Cars continue to drive by, shaking her bug with their momentum, and the song that’s about one of the worst periods of her life is quickly forgotten and replaced by something about…dancing in a club. It’s literally just about dancing.

She lets out a watery chuckle, the emotion that was lodged in her throat clearing the slightest bit so that she can breathe. Was she not breathing? She might not have been breathing.

Now that she can breathe again, she inhales, sucking her chest in before letting out a gush of air in an attempt to calm herself. In her review mirror she can see that her face is red and splotchy, that her eyes are still watery, and she has to wipe away the snot that’s formed at her nose.

It’s as she’s rubbing her eyes, trying to clear her vision, that all of the sadness starts to twist, transforming into something else entirely. She’s pissed. Absolutely pissed. And she can’t help but think of her earlier thoughts when the song first started playing.

How dare he do this to her.

How dare he write that song and put it on the radio.

Before she knows it, she’s putting her car in drive, looking over her shoulder to make sure the road is clear, before she’s pulling off of the dirt and onto the pavement, speeding down the road in the direction of Killian’s apartment instead of toward hers, driving in the direction of the place where she lived for so long. She knows he’s home, that he’s in town. And she only knows this because David still talks to him, still talks about him, and she overheard David talking to Mary Margaret about Killian being home for the next few weeks and how they’re going to go out for a pint to catch up.

She knows the path to his apartment better than she knows the path to her own, a right here followed by another until it’s a straight shot to the parking garage underneath his building. She still has her sticker, the one that lets her inside. She never could get the damn thing off.

But now it’s useful as she pulls into an empty guest space, hastily getting out of the car and slamming the door shut as she makes her way over to the elevator, hoping that the code hasn’t changed and she can still get inside. It’s only two minutes before she’s standing in front of his door, the momentum and adrenaline propelling her hand forward until she’s banging on the wood so roughly that her hand might actually hurt.

She hurts.

Every bit of anger, of malice, of disappointment that she has is on the tip of her tongue, posed to be spit at him as soon as she sees him, but then the door is swung open and she sees him for the first time in…shit. It’s been five months. It’s been three months since she heard his voice in Target, but it’s been five months since she’s seen him.

And he’s now standing in front of her with his hair damply falling across his forehead, water trailing down the hair of his chest, and the words of his tattoo peeking up over the white towel he has slung across his hip.

Fuck.

She doesn’t have any other words, especially as his fists clench and the muscles in his arms strain while his jaw ticks. He’d look surprised when she first showed up, his lips parting before closing, almost as if he had something he wanted to say. But now he looks angry, a storm raging behind his eyes, and all she can think about is the time that they went to Bermuda for their anniversary and spent the entire week either in bathing suits, a towel, or nothing at all.

“What are you doing here, Swan?”

There’s no anger in his voice though. It’s calm, even, and it’s that fact that gets her back on track. He sounded broken in the song. He’s obviously not broken like she is.

“How dare you write that song,” she spits, trying to keep her voice just as steady, knowing that she’s failing. “You just put our life, my life, out there for everyone to hear.”

“No one knows it’s about you.”

“I do! I know! Our friends know! Everybody goddamn knows! I’m driving down the road on my way home from work, trying to live my life, trying to move on, and I just have everything that I’m trying to forget thrown back in my face like that.”

“Love – ”

“Don’t call me that,” she cries, hating how her voice cracks. She shouldn’t have done this. She shouldn’t have come. She should have never let her emotions drive her, but that’s always what’s she’s done. She’s never been one to be able to hold back when she really feels. “I am not your love. You’ve made that very clear.”“Swan,” he grits, crossing his arms over his heaving chest, “if you want to yell at me, come inside. I have neighbors, and I don’t think we want them witnessing this.”

She huffs, disbelief that he’s actually inviting her inside so that she can continue this emotional breakdown, but her feet still carry her inside, her eyes glancing over the apartment the moment she gets inside. It all looks exactly the same.

She hates that it all looks the same.

Something should have changed.

All of her stuff is gone.

She’s gone.

Something should have changed.

She turns around to look back at Killian, who’s locking the door behind him before running his hands through his damp hair, pushing it back on his forehead, before he’s rubbing his fingers over his scruff. She hates how good he looks almost as much as she hates that that’s what she’s focusing on.

“Why are you here?” he sighs, the indignation he had replaced with acceptance. “The song? You’re mad about the song?”

“Of course I’m mad about the song. How could I not be? Have you heard it?”

“I wrote it. And in case you’ve forgotten, I have dozens of other songs about you, nearly every one of them on a record somewhere. You never seemed pissed about those then.”

“We weren’t broken up then.”“Well whose bloody fault is that? Because it’s not mine. I didn’t want to break up.”

“You think I wanted to break up?” she screams, not caring about staying calm while her entire body heats, her skin feeling overly warm and her head throbbing while her heart pounds. “You think I wanted to be having breakdowns on the side of the road because I can’t handle reliving parts of our relationship. You think I wanted to be the girl who sat at home and cried every time you didn’t pick up the phone? Every time you had to go one minute into our conversation? Every time I went out with my friends and heard your voice on the speakers at a bar when I hadn’t actually heard your voice in days? You think I wanted that?”

She can’t…she can’t breathe again, her heart beating far too quickly in her chest. This isn’t healthy. This isn’t good. She needs…she needs to sit down. So she does, collapsing to the ground and resting her back against his hallway wall while she wraps her arms around her knees and lets herself have another breakdown.

Who the hell needs dignity?

“Emma,” Killian sighs, and that only makes things worse. He never calls her Emma, not unless something is important, and she hates herself for this entire situation. She hates that he is able to still have this power over her, that she still loves him so much that she can’t fathom the fact that she’s not with him.

“Emma,” he repeats, kneeling down next to her, his towel opening as he squats, which really doesn’t help the situation at all. “Are you okay?”

“Do you think I’m okay?”

“No.” His thumb reaches up and wipes away the tears on her cheek. That’s the first time she’s felt his touch in five months too. And it’s also what makes her look up to see that he’s got a tear falling onto his cheek too. “I’m sorry, lo – Swan. I’m sorry that you heard the song and that it hurt you.”

“Why’d you write it then? You had to know that I’d hear it eventually.”

“Because I hurt too. Music is how I deal with things. You know this. You’ve always known this. And how the hell else am I supposed to deal with my heartbreak?”

“By writing the damn song and then not putting it on the radio.”

“I had to fulfill my contract. I had to release a new single.”

“Don’t you have another one? One that’s not about us?”

“No.”

She sighs, leaning her head back against the wall and tightly closing her eyes all while she physically aches. She aches for them to be back to normal, aches for this to not be happening anymore. She should have never come here.

“How long are you home?”

“What?” he stutters, his voice visibly shaken.

She opens her eyes and looks back at him, attempting to even her breaths. “How long are you home this time? How long until you have to leave again?”

“A few weeks. I’ve got to go back and meet with the guys for a couple of days at the end of September.”

She doesn’t know why she does what she does next, but before she can stop herself, before she can think straight, she leans forward and slides her lips over his in a harsh, demanding kiss. Her hands are in his hair in an instant, using the soft strands to tug him closer, and his hands find her face, the warmth and roughness of the pads of his fingers holding her to him as well. It’s like being connected, like being right, after so many months of not feeling like herself, of feeling like something in her life is off kilter.

Like something is wrong.

She doesn’t care that they shouldn’t be doing this. She doesn’t care that she shouldn’t be pushing Killian against the floor, the hardwood uncomfortable under her knees, and she doesn’t care that she’s losing her mind over the way that Killian’s groaning into her mouth and thrusting his hips up against hers, the towel doing nothing to hide his arousal.

And she really doesn’t care when they stumble away from the entrance of his apartment and fall back into his bedroom, quickly and surely moving against each other in the way that they always have. He feels good, fantastic, and she knows she should never be thinking about she and Killian together when they’re very obviously having a relapse, a collapse back into the them they used to be.

So she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let herself not enjoy this, but she can’t speak, she can’t return Killian’s words of ecstasy and affection while he moves inside of her and above her. She simply falls into how good, how right, this feels, and figures that she’ll…she’ll figure it all out later.

It turns out when later comes that she’s still not ready to figure it out. She still doesn’t know what to do. Instead of getting up and leaving when they were finished, she didn’t. She stayed. She’s not sure that she had the strength to leave, that she even wanted to, so now she’s wrapped up in one of Killian’s sweaters while her legs are stuck in between his and his hands are trailing through her hair. She feels his heartbeat under her palm, the slow rise and fall of his chest a rhythm that she knows better than any other.

A rhythm that she knows better than any song he’s ever written.

“Sex doesn’t solve our problems, Swan. You know that, right?”

“I know,” she confesses, snuggling closer to him despite everything. “I don’t…we shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t even still be here. I’m not sure what came over me, over us.”“A hell of a lot of emotions.” She feels his lips against her forehead, the sweat that’s gathered there being pushed away. “We’ve got…there’s a lot left between us, love. There was never anything wrong between us, I don’t think. I just wasn’t there.”

“That’s kind of what went wrong. You can’t be in a relationship without being there.”

“But it’s not us. It was the distance, my job.”

“Which is your dream.”

“Aye, it was my dream,” he confirms softly, running his fingers through her hair and down her back. “It is my dream. But I should have never let it come between us. You’ve been my life for half a decade. You have been there for absolutely everything, and I should have tried harder, should have done more.”

“I don’t think there was anything either of us could have done.”

“I could have made more time to call. I could have scheduled breaks between cities. I could have booked a flight for me, for you. I could have done so much to save us, to make you feel less alone.”

“Killian, this isn’t all on you.”

“No, no, it’s not, but I’ve had five months of living alone, even when I wasn’t here, to think about all of the things I could have changed.”

“Me too,” she sighs, lifting her head from his chest and untangling her legs before she moves to the other side of the bed, putting distance between them all the while Killian rubs his hand up and down his face trying to work out the stress lines. “I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t either. Do you even want to try again? Or are we chalking this up to a one-time thing? To a fallback?”

For the first time since she’s shown up here, he sounds as broken as he did during the song. He sounds like she feels, like there’s something missing, something just out of reach. He sounds…he doesn’t sound like Killian. Not the one that she knew. Not the one who woke her up in the mornings with a smile on his face and laughter in his eyes. Not the one who sang while he cooked, often burning the food because he would start writing down the beginnings of a song.

He doesn’t sound like the man who loved her.

The man who she loves.

“I don’t want it to be that,” she answers honestly, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees. “But I can’t go back to how we were…what do you want?”

“You.”

A shiver runs down her spine, gooseflesh popping up on her skin.

“That’s all. You just want me?”

“Always, Emma,” he promises, his lips ticking up on the right and the lines around his eyes crinkling while his tongue clicks. “But you’re right. We can’t…I can’t leave like that. I can’t do things just for me without considering you. And you can’t let me just do it and say that things are okay.”

“I kind of figured you knew things weren’t okay.”

“You’ve never lied to me, so I didn’t expect it then. I always believed the words that you said.”

“So what are we doing, Killian? What do we do?”

He shrugs, sitting up against the headboard. “We try again. We make compromises. We do better. For ourselves. For each other. And maybe I don’t put a song out without letting you know.”She smiles, the first genuine smile without heartbreak hidden behind it, for the first time today. Maybe for the first time in months.

“I’d like that.”

It takes more than one day for things to get back to normal. It takes weeks, months really. Killian was a constant part of her life for five years, but after nearly half a year apart, things don’t simply snap back. Trust has to be rebuilt, routines have to become routine again, and she has to learn that things are never going to be perfect and that compromise is a hell of a lot harder than simply saying the word. You actually have to break and bend, give and give up, but it’s worth it if you want to make things work.

She wants to make things work.

Killian does too.

And the next time she hears a song on the radio that’s about her, Killian’s voice isn’t broken. And neither is her heart.

#cs prompts #cs ff #cs fic

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curioussubjects · 5 years ago

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Non-jittery Thoughts on 15.01

Alright, had some time too calm the hell down, so I could have thoughts beyond a keysmash and a crying emoji. Chances are, too, that I’ll have more to say once I sit down with the episode again. Had to get these initial reactions/musings out of the way first.

This episode did a bang up job setting up the personal plot points for tfw. I’m super excited to see where this is going: Dean’s hell trauma revisited, Sam’s wound and its connection to his own darkness, Cas still struggling with belonging, Dean and Cas’s continuous wrongfootedness coming to a head. It’s going to be a killer of a season emotionally, and I am Here. For. It.

Full disclosure: the biggest chunk is destiel related. In my defense, Dabb & co. didn’t have to enable me, but here we are.

More thoughts under the cut.

General Thoughts:

My hype was not squashed! We got a really strong season opener and I’m so happy about it. Sure, we got running ghosts. But overall the episode was incredible; just a solid SPN episode all around. A+ job and kudos to all involved ♥♥♥

The new title card is gorgeous and full of meta potential goodness. See this post for more on that; op hit it on the head I think. For additional analysis, there’s this post from different op that is killer.

Opening sequence with tfw fighting zombie ghosts and running for shelter? Amazing. Showstopping. Breathtaking.

Dean’s grief over Jack that’s embroiled in his grief for Mary. Just. “He was our kid.” That’s some complicated shit right there.

Gotta love all the tidbits hinting at what is to come during 15.a, at the very least, if not the larger goal of the season. Reading y’all’s thoughts on the episode has been great so far, and I can’t wait to see what else crops up this week.

On Sam: Currently, Sam’s role in the more interesting aspects of the plot continue to not quite match Dean’s, which has been a problem for a while. I’m seriously hoping that changes some with Eileen’s return, Rowena coming in with some banter maybe next week, and whatever weird curse Sam got with that bullet wound. I’m loving the potential and I’m loving the prospect of having Sam brought back to the center of the plot. I missed some more emotional involvement from him this episode, too, but that should be addressed once things calm down and Sam and Dean can debrief. However, we got peak Sam in a crisis and it’s always a treat to see him do his job. Bless. Him telling the clown to shut up made my night. I love him so much.

On Belphegor: First off, Alex did such a fantastic job. I giggled a ridiculous amount. Instantly invested in the character as bringer of shenanigans. Was not disappointed. Quick deliciously meta tidbits about Belphegor, some of which may not feature in the show, but are still *chef’s kiss* (x):

Moabite deity responsible for fertility and sexual power (in case the ep wasn’t clear on that lmao)

was worshiped in the form of a phallus (so glad that made it to canon jfc)

is a fallen angel??? hello???

he’s the demonic embodiment of sloth, BUT specifically negligence and apathy (i am screaming isnt negligence the whole ordeal with dean and cas atm...and apathy was the problem with jack’s soulessness)

rules misogyny and licentious men (yeah ok no wonder he was a fan of younger dean oof)

the juiciest: emerged from hell to investigate marriage among humans (and is conveniently in the peanut gallery of dean and cas’s fight. funny how that happens. hilarious, even.)

apparently after living as a man to experience sexual pleasure he was appalled and fled back to hell where sex between men and women wasn’t a thing i’m??? what?? (yet in the show he seemed ok with hot dudes ayy)

I’m glad my “horny on main” observation turned out to be so on point jesus. Can’t help but wonder how long he’s gonna stick around. His outside perspective is amusing, at the very least. However, the fact that he barely interacted with Sam, but was a lot interested in Dean as well as Cas (though to a lesser extent) makes me think that he’s doing more than just deus exing them out of zombies and ghosts or offering hell exposition. Seems like he going to expose SOME OTHER STUFF. ABOUT DEAN (AND CAS?). He is the “Lord of Opening” after all. And isn’t using their words and being honest the thing we’re all waiting for wrt to DeanCas?? There’s some opening up that is necessary posthaste. Listen, I know I’ve been saying they need a marriage counselor, but this is not what I had in mind. Pretty on brand, though, I guess lol

I’m also really interested about the coding work the character is doing in continuing to queer Dean’s characterization. Belphegor being himself associated with (male) sexuality, and the show clearly focusing on his attraction to humans of the man variety. I wouldn’t even call it subtextual at this point as Belphegor’s interaction with Dean in the car to was really overt. My hopes that the show might actually be explicit about Dean’s bisexuality is uhhhh getting high again *confetti.* Should also maybe at least note that using a demon to do this is probs not like the best strategy, but at least said demon was 1. not skeevy and 2. mostly sympathetic to the audience.

This is all assuming, ofc, that Belphegor is not catfishing tfw (there’s precedence, after all -- and kudos to anon and op for the timely observations).

On Dean & Cas: I think it’s really damn telling that so much space was given to their relationship as like the most important thing going on with their characters? Obviously they have individual issues to deal with (their own struggles with Chuck, revisiting Dean’s stint in hell....which btw also eventually involves Cas too so *hands*), but my sweet baby jesus the validation feels good. Onwards.

We actually have a weird amount to unpack here because, as others have said, the tension between them is coming from more than just Mary and Jack -- though Mary and Jack are absolutely the main stressors atm as well as emblematic of problems they’ve had for a long long time.

I’m gonna start with Dean because boy do I love that dumbass; I want to shake him. So we have Dean: he’s grieving Mary, he’s angry, he’s scared, he’s lashing out. It’s a Thursday. We know he’s angry with Cas because he blames him for Mary’s death, even if indirectly. You know what that reminds me of? Dean hating Jack for causing Cas’s death, even though it wasn’t directly Jack’s fault. More importantly, though, both the loss of Mary and the loss of Cas were caused by the same catalyst: Cas going off on his own to solve a problem instead of asking Dean (and Sam, but really, mostly Dean) for help. Like, it’s the one thing Dean has very clearly expressed that Cas needs to stop doing (hi 12x19). It’s the same mistake Cas has been making for years. There was a false sense of security there during seasons 13 and most of 14, but alas. Again, here we have Dean losing someone because Cas couldn’t just come ask him for help. Like. It makes sense, and it’s understandable, despite Dean’s coping mechanisms being shit. In short, Dean’s actual problem with Cas is less that Mary is dead and more that Cas refuses to learn his lesson wrt them being stronger as a unit rather than doing their own thing and putting themselves and others in unnecessary danger.

Meanwhile, we have a continuation of Cas just being really sad and heartbroken because not only is Jack dead, but he’s once again unsure about his standing with Dean. He wants to protect his family, he wants to protect Dean, he wants to come back with a win; once more, he goes off on his own to do it and it blows up in his face somehow. As much as I loved Cas getting mad at the end of last season, I get why he’s somewhat subdued again. He has his guilt and grief and doubt to deal with. He doesn’t want to be mad at Dean probably about as much as he doesn’t want Dean to be mad at him. So far I’m not yet seeing the return of the spark we got when Cas was defending Jack last season, but I’m sure Dean walking out rattled him beyond the hurt. I wanna see what else happens to make him leave “in a huff” (a bit of spec on this further down). That said, what I’m most excited about is seeing how Cas gets reintegrated into the family -- pretty sure that’s universal lol.

The juiciest part now, though: I was all about the interplay of distance and care that we saw between them; let’s pause here for a quick sec to appreciate how that same interplay has been such a central part of Dean and Cas’s relationship since always like ugh. So much of the larger plot points in the show have also been situations that kept them from being truly partners as well as being constant interruptions on their ability to USE THEIR FRIGGIN’ WORDS AAAACK. We give Sam a lot of flack, but everything has awful timing in this show. We’ve had moments of honesty and vulnerability, but they’re always always cut short before we actually get somewhere; before they arrive at a place where they can talk about their issues. If the “are you ok” scene isn’t a perfect microcosm of that idk what is /sigh

So, yeah, the “Are you ok” scene oooh boy. I wasn’t as excited as some of you at this scene being an example that Dean still cared, as that was never a doubt I had in my mind (it was definitely a yes omg just talk jesus moments nevertheless). Dean couldn’t possibly just turn that shit off, no matter how much he thinks he’s done with Cas. Like, please. What we do have is Dean indulging on his own need to know that Cas is, at least, immediately fine. Triage, if you will. Him walking off before Cas can either elaborate, or, most likely, tell him about Sam, is peak Dean passive-aggressiveness. The meltdown I had in the tags of a gifset of the scene is still relevant:

#cas's little sigh of idk relief???#like he's so sad and physically fine but he's SO SAD and heartbroken#and here's dean finally not just being cold to him and ASKING ABOUT HIS WELLBEING#look at cas's face in tht second gif my heart#you can see him gd relax too i cant#and dean has his fucking check in during a break in the chaos face#im so mad#jdhakjsdfhklsd#and then dean just.........walks away and doesnt actually debrief or help or none of the things he would do#and cas is just...there all vulnerable and upset right before he clams up at the demon's quip#but it doesnt even last look at his damn face as he leaves IM SO#somebody hug him#skldjfhklsajdfa#he needs a dean hug#but noooo dean is being a jackass#this is awful#im not ok#i hate it when they fight#im over it that's enough drama dabb i take back everything i said about loving pain

I’ll definitely have more thoughts on this once we have whatever emotional payload next week.

All in all, I’m not actually concerned about the future of their relationship. They’ve been through much, they’ll be fine. I am, though, tickled that we’ll see these key problems in their relationship reach a point where they have to be dealt with. Also: I can’t wait for the catharsis that Cas leaving is bound to elicit. Both for us, the viewers, and the characters. Besides, Dean needs to go to a corner and have a think about his behavior and if pushing Cas away is really what he wants. And then maybe finally we can get that sweet sweet resolution of an affirmation about Cas’s place in Dean’s life. And in turn an affirmation that Cas does trust their family unit enough to depend on them.

I think we got a good set up in this episode leading into whatever drama we get in the coming weeks. The tension was up to 11. Love it. Hate it. Personally, I think the empty deal might be what does sets off Cas walking out. Somehow, the deal is not a secret anymore. We have here another instance of Cas making a super important decision that affects The Family on his own and then keeping it a secret (to protect Sam and Dean, a pattern). Dean can be angry and think Cas is dead to him all he wants, he will blow tf up when he learns about this deal. Sam isn’t gonna be thrilled either, though he’s more likely to make puppy eyes of sadness and Disappointment than yell at Cas. Seriously, though, I can just see Dean saying some bullshit because he’s just so done and here goes Cas potentially dying again, which in turn will probably piss Cas off. Etc etc. Cue the violins.

tl;dr: if episode 1 is any indication, we’re in for a wild fucking ride, kiddos. hold onto your butts!!!

#supernatural #spn #destiel #deancas #spn spoilers #spn15 #spn meta #my stuff #ok thoughts still a little jittery #but my brain is so hyped i needed to let these go into the ether #before i could sit down and write any sort of coherent argument #gosh i do love this show so much

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pokefanbri · 5 years ago

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"It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society."

When they say "existence is pain" or "I'm dead inside" it's actually true. I struggle with depression every day. And idk if it's because of my upbringing & my traumatic past, or the fact I'm self aware of my tiny ass existence in this dying world. But I know I'm not the only one that feels this way. I take meds for paranoid schizophrenia originally due to a meltdown, & they found depression & anxiety alongside it, but does it take away the internal dread I feel? No. Because nothing can change the fact that the negative outweighs the positive tremendously among society. It's not something that you can cheer up, nothing anyone says can make it feel any better. I cope with the fun I have with games, friends, making videos & it makes me happy..but the feeling is always there, lurking. This is me, but I know it doesn't define me. Theres light at the end of the tunnel, but..how far is it? Our world is crumbling, the speed is unknown. This is how I feel, seeing things happen through my eyes, the scarring things I've felt in my life physically & emotionally...its painful still, but why? Is it cause I cant let go? The thing is, my past haunts me because my own own mother didnt love us enough to take care of us before her own toxic desires, because my twin brother I was so close to no longer talks to me cuz I gave her a 2nd chance only for her to screw me over once again, because I dont want to have children only for them to grow up in a world that's dying & perhaps not grow at all if it does. I'm broken because my family is broken, because this world is broken, & I wouldn't want my future kids to be just as broken. I'm not suicidal, not anymore at least. I was never successful, but I dont think I could stand doing that to myself. My close friends & family say I'm a miracle. Going what I've gone through in my life, cheating death, & coming out triumphantlly is a success story to them...but I don't see it as they do. However...was something or someone keeping me alive? I still wonder. Maybe I have a higher purpose? Whatever the case may be, I'm still here for whatever reason coincidence or not.

Not that this pertains to what I'm saying. But Yea I'm Christian, but only because I believe in something higher than myself. I'm friends with everyone nomatter beliefs, ethnicity, sexual orientation, or otherwise. I'm not defined by my religion like most, I define myself as just..me. I don't belong anywhere, I'm in the wind going with the flow to put things simply. Let the chips fall where they may. Because of my depression, I have a "idgaf" or laid back attitude. I don't care anymore, if shit happens shit happens & it's out of my hands. I do love myself,my friends, & the family I have left, everything else around me is questionable. Kind of like Stan from South Park seeing shit everywhere & as everything...that's what depression is & as lude as that is it's the perfect example.

Now that I've vented & said what I said, you know a little more about me I suppose. Take it with a grain of salt. I'm sure the world isnt shit, but for me sometimes it sure seems that way. 😔. Idk if this will help anyone in any way, I just wanted to tell some of my story & maybe itll help others not feel so alone in what they're going through. If you want more whether it be about my past or any thoughts I may have on certain things, let me know..I have plenty to share, tumblr was originally a blog afterall ❤ I have the ability to retain information so I could talk about my life from birth to present if I really wanted to 😅 but that may be too much. Idk it's up to the reader I suppose. But yea, this is who I am..now you know

Anyway Thank you for taking the time to read my rants, have a good one

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strawberryspeachy · 5 years ago

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So when i watched death note in high school it made me curious about real japanese police work. I read about it alot and came to the conclusion that their justice system isnt too great.

Im currently upset that a coworker who i took as a friend - not only disliked me all along - but went as far as to lie about me to get me in trouble. That no one cared to hear my side. That i was fired on the spot. That people turned their back on me immediately. That no one cares.

Well. 17 year old me would have said. But of course. In Japan your guilty until proven innocent. That japanese put on a show but dont truely like most people. That they band together and will go out of their way to avoid any kind of conflict. That they care more about a pretty appearance than solving anything. 17 year old me that only heard and read about Japan knew these things. 17 year old me imagined this cool different country that works because theyre proud of this... performance way that they live. And i was amused by it. All i knew was america and european history. I was so hungry for something different. I was so interested in different people.

Then I went to Japan. I got here and it was too similar to manga. How silly, i thought, those a comics - i didnt actually expect the country to be like those comics. And ive never really been able to place what that made me feel but id grown past this bemusement of different “alien like” people. Theyre just people who live in another country i thought. I dont like america and our norms. I know nothing but america but i dont agree with any of our steriotypes. You cant describe me the way most would try to describe a typical american. So why would people from any other country be different. Im sure theres people like the sterotype - but certainly more not at all like that.

And i got here and i watched the smiles on service workers slowly fade when they thought no one was watching. I watched children put trash where it didnt belong thinking no one was watching. I was girls laugh loudly and run around and yell at their boyfriends. I watched drunk college kids hollar and reak havoc in the city. Not robot people, not obedient children, not, quiet and demure girls listening to the men, not studious students worried about their reputation. Just people. The same people i saw back home.

And so i thought. Its the same. Different history. Varrying values. Same old people - judgmental and watching everyone ready to scold them if they deem it necessary.

But that guilty until prooven innocent thing. The fact that the old way of caring about your reputation is still a solid work practice.

These things. Make me feel like... i guess.... to my dissapointment. Maybe america really is more free...

I dont want that to be true. The us is so full of itself. Just like healthcare. I want universal health care to be a good thing and at very least in japan its not really. Its better. Its more affordable. Maybe their problem is just how much they hate drugs and thats what stops real care.

But. Ive always been a cautious person - i just dont want to get in trouble. But ive never thought id be in a situation i couldnt talk my way out of - because i dont do anything super bad. Maybe sometimes ive pressed the limits - but never outside of... like i drank underage. I tried to get into bars i wasnt old enough for. Ive dodged paying for the train fare. Dumb things. Things that the worse that would happen is i gotta pay it somehow or id get scolded. Drinking under age is against us law but its almost never taken too seriously.

But its occurred to me. Yeah. In japan it is guilty until prooven innocent. I really could have gotten in legal trouble for baseless allegations.

And japan is as racist and people say. Theyre friendly and try to talk to you in english and say nice things. And it doesnt seem like racism to a person from the states. Out racist look at you with digust. They wont touch you. They wont talk to you. They dont want to know about you

But here... it takes the form of a racist parent who grew up in the 50s and knows that theyre not supposed to be racist but still is.

Theyre welcoming and friendly to your face but talk shit behind your back. They ask a bunch of questions like (in america “where are you really from”) they refuse to accept you might actually belong. They constantly want to assert how different you are so instesd of telling you that your different - they ask questions or explain what theyre doing. And if you say ‘yes we also do this’ they react with disbeleif - what? No! You couldnt possibly get this - this is our thing and you are not us! And they constantly ask if you miss your home. Assume that you’re uncomfortable because they are. Also also. Instred of not wanting to touch you here - theyre much more willing to push you out of the way

Theres many mixed race kids here now though. I assume theyll have to do the same thing that happened in America. I havent met any mixed race adults but ive met plenty of white dads.... all trying super hard to assimilate to the point that they walk around talking like robots. Swearing that everything japan is great and they dont miss their home cointries at all. Pretty similar to the immigrants of america from when my mom was a kid.

So i still think at least for japan. Theyre way more similar to the west than they think they are. But these restricting regulations that they live by... really does make the country seem not as free as id ignorantly beleived it was.

It surprised me because their rules are so much like the way my great grandmother talked about stuff. And while were supposed to care... we just dont in the states. Respect your employer? Sure we say we do to their face but talk shit with coworkers. Worry about your reputation? Eh think im a bitch i dont give a fuck whatcha gonna do about it? Nothing thats right. Dont like another person? No one cares. Like that person or dont - it doesnt change anyone elses relationship with them. Make a mistake? Well if your boss fires you - everyone already probably thinks their an asshole cause generally mistakes are just met with some form of dickwaving belittlement. Pretty sure most of us get mad everytime we hear a story about someone getting fired because they posted a picture of them in a bikiki or having fun - most of this generation agrees thats dumb and has to change.

I feel more like an american now than ever. Americans are reluctant to change im told. Yes. I suppose we are. We might not know the rest of the worlds history but we kinda know our own. And as much as ive alwags agreed with the sentiment that cultures are different and thats just the way they want to be.... we used to be these ways but decided it was restrictive and controlling and mentally abusive and fought it...

Ive been reading more about the work culture in japan to figure out how he fuck this went so wrong. Apparently when young japanese people enter the work force, they cant even have friends as distractions outside of work because their boss will move them away from home.

Ive already read that japanese think suffering is good and seniority and witness first hand their preoccupation of appearing busy over actually being productive. Its just this constant performance.

Perhaps i did stress him out to the point of physical pain. I remember having a massive meltdown where i shook and it felt like my brain was melting after i tried so hard to be a good nice person. I did whag people apparently like. I changed myself to just agree with people and be positive and assume the best in everyone. Then my “friend” told me that i was a bad friend because i asked them if they would people drive their friends home so i could to sleep at 4am. And the two things just didnt click. I didnt go to sleep that night. I sat at my desk shaking for the next 5 hours and having flashbacks.

Im talkative. I talk as much as i do here in real life. And i have alot of questions. I talked to him a lot. Made him look not busy. I know he liked talking to me. I know he did. Thats why i got confortable talking more. He was always surprised when i asked him questions about himself but once he started answering he kept talking. Yeah. Its nice to have someone ask you what your thoughts are on topics. What your experiences have been. Did you like those things or not. I know japan it a group think culture - i guess they get there by really draining out ANY idea of individualality. He told me hed never been asked what he likes about himself. In the us were asked that constantly from elementary school “what do you like about yourself. What do you like about your friend. What makes you different?”

It kinda baffles me... questions and thoughts like these are so common in anime.... and obviously anime is popular in japan. Obviously obviously. Im confused how theyre watching these programs often with such deep meanings.... and not taking anything away from them. In the states our tv programs are always being restricted and stuff because they might give us “bad ideas” but they aren’t restricted here and yet... it seems no one takes anything from them

When i visited japan in 2013 i saw a teenage girl in huge heels lose her balance and stomp on a middle aged womans foot. That woman had already been standing like her feet were in pain and she made a face of being in so much pain. The girl rudely didn’t apologize and the older woman said nothing. She smiled through her pain...

And i also complained to my coworker. Not full on complaining. The small ones you make at work when youre not sure of the extent you can go to. At first he held off like the other teachers. But. Then. He started complaining back. It got to me not needing to be the one say an annoyance first. Like i asked how his meeting was. Other people i worked with might leave it ah it was a bit slow but necessary. And he started that way. But instead he started responding to me a succession of statements the slowly crept more toward his real feelings. ‘It was good... we didnt do much... or anything, i just sat and listened and took notes. we dont learn anything, it takes up a lot of time but we have to go. I dont like those meetings. I dont know their pupose... but were told to go so we must’

Whatever. Im just gonna keep rambling and complaining about this cause it sucks and is awful. Contracted woth my company i wasnt allowed to publically critisize japan. I imagine thats why you dont often find many things on the internet complaining. You will literally be unemployable if your name is attached to critisisms of this country.

Where as everyone can come to the states and tell us to our faces how much we suck and how much cooler their countries are. And generally the younger general is just kinda like - ‘you right’ people write articles all the time shit talking the states and we just go ‘ya we deserve that’ we do. Im not saying dont do that... but like... maybe just maybe. Were doing the good thing where were like

Haha call us fat! We are fat. We love us some mcdonalds. Hm.... why though. Actually we need to fix that. Why are people eating so unhealthy? What is the underlying cause of this problem? Lets try to work on that - and then we fight amoungst ourselves.

I like that... i like thay thing we do

In the states you might not want to become a ‘whistleblower’ and in some industrys you might get black listed for something dumb. But at least we talk about it and agree its a problem. In japan no one wants to even admit they have problems.

Know what else i told him. I talked about how were overworked in the states. That our work culture has gotten too similar to japans and we hate it. No one working 80 hour weeks thinks that they should have to do that. Of course i didnt go about it that way. I told him that my friends back home work 80 hour weeks and its unhealthy. That i cant work that much and refuse to. He i imagine counted how many hours he works and laughed and i said - oh haha yea i guess you also work that much. And he looked so much like he wanted to cry about it in the same way my friends back home. But said its natural in japan and that hes gotten used to it. But he definitely didnt mean it as he said it. I told him my friends say that as well. That i think theyre workaholics and i personally cant do it. That when work calls them they always pick up the phone even when they dont want to. But i dont do that. When my job called me as a server id ignore it and call them back later when it was too late for me to be asked to come in and ask them what they wanted.

Maybe to him my stories felt like when i read about students in europe being allowed to not go to school without reprucussions. It made HAVING to go to school evem more annoying. Why cant we choose to take breaks? I heard that place doesnt have homework - meanwhile im given at least 6 hours work a night! Not everyone has to do this? Other places learn things for fun?? They dont have to keep up with standardized exams that dont account for different teachers and school districts?? A 50% in that country isnt a failing grade???

Those were already shitty things but to read about them not bein universal did make having to endure it more upsetting.

Doesnt change that im stoll upset with him for not saying anything to me. Doesnt change that im mad that he made stuff up.

Really me rambling on about this doesnt change my presepective on any of it. Im just bitching

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