#i know i sound really ungrateful but i just cannot bring myself to be excited about anything keefe-related

[the-way-astray]

on the bright side, this probably means shannon won't be able to pull a cliffhanger on us.

[taerseok]

Blooming Daffodil

—Pairing: OT7 × reader (platonic)

—Synopsis: You’re a blooming daffodil. And you’re still learning, but with the help of your seven friends, you can make it through. You know it.

→ ‘The daffodil flower is known for its symbolism of new beginnings and rebirth.’

—Word Count: 2651

—Genre: Hurt/comfort

—Triggers: Some sadness here and there, nothing too major though!

『Hello! Looks like I'm posting again, after a while, lol. It's been a few months and I didn't expect to put this out so it's unedited in most areas. I wrote this to comfort myself so if it comes off as cringey pls don't mind lololol. Still, I hope you enjoy :D』

-

It’s dark and cold where you lay.

It’s silent, almost to the point of being unbearable. You’re unsure if it’s your bedroom you are sitting in, or just a random strange place. It’s unfamiliar, and you feel exhausted.

Your phone rests in your hand, your chin on the cool bed sheet. Is that the reason you are getting these chills and soon after, the hot rushing waves that fall upon you?

It’s Taehyung’s messages.

You replied back only a few moments earlier, and had the desire to say more but-

You’re suddenly exhausted.

Your body feels light, almost light enough to levitate in the cold, air-conditioned nothingness. There’s the faint sound of a melody playing in your head, but you don’t pay it mind.

Your heart’s too full, all at once, a little too tired to go on right now.

You’re not sad, by any means. In fact, if you tried, you could muster up some sort of a smile right now. It’d be tight and most certainly fake, it wouldn’t reach your eyes, but… It’d be there, nonetheless.

From [taehyungie]:

coming to the movie night at jungkook’s tonight?

i’ll pick you up if u want

There’s your stomach aching from anxiety, with everything that had been going on. College, you not being able to talk to your friends (who you doubt care), but even more than that, just not being able to feel alive in your own body.

You are far from sad, but that doesn’t mean you’re content.

Friends from high school aside, you had Taehyung. You had the seven boys you adored the most in the world. You had met them back at an inter school competition where you all got to know each other, and eventually became friends. Some sort of friends, anyway.

They were from a different school, so it did piss off your schoolmates that you were befriending ‘rivals’ but that didn’t mean anything to you. All that mattered was that you had them, and they had you.

Fast forward to a year later. You’re laying in bed, exhausted and overwhelmed. There’s this weight at the back of your head, making it feel heavy, almost as if you had a headache.

Tired.

So extremely tired.

To [taehyungie]:

I don’t really|

The cursor keeps blinking at you, as if it’s asking, ‘do you really want to say this?’ You don’t.

Really.

But you’re not in the mood to socialize, even if it means missing out on a movie night you had waited for to spend with your bestest friends. You love them, you really do, but… It’s at moments like these that you find yourself asking again and again-

Am I really their friend?

You can’t figure out if you love them as much as they do, and how could you ever repay these seven men for how much they had lit up your life?

And then again, you’re tired, a little overwhelmed, a little sad (so you finally admit it). You can’t even bring yourself to move. What do you even do? Saying you don’t want to come sounds like you’re ungrateful for how much they’ve done for you, which isn’t true at all. You appreciate them, but there’s that lethargic feeling in your bones, the way each bone in your body aches, that just tells you-

You can’t.

You feel like a living paradox, sad but happy, energetic but tired, in pain but you’re okay.

You’re okay.

You’re completely fine, so why do you feel this way?

You want to shut the world out and not look anyone in the eyes. Stop talking. Leave group chats. Turn down offers.

It’s not the first time this has happened. It’s not the last time it’ll happen either. But every time, it feels like the worst one so far. You’re hurting but your body can’t recognize the pain, making it seem like you’re not, but you are, and you know that deep down.

Your head’s cluttered, throbbing pain now taking over from the heavy weight you felt at the back of your head instead. You massage your temples to ease the pain, but your fingers, cold and unnerving, cannot keep you away from brooding.

What do you say?

What do you do?

You hold down the delete button, clearing the message box. Your cursor still blinks, making you feel annoyed, before you click the cancel button and let the keyboard on the screen vanish.

Done and- for the last time, you’ll say it- exhausted, you flip over to lay on your back, staring at the ceiling above.

If you say you don’t want to go, you’ll appear selfish and it’ll make it seem like you were leading them on. Which you weren’t, you were just as excited as them about it, but you never planned for your weird episode to begin today.

If you agree to go, you’ll only bring them down with your depressed self. And that’s sadly not the end of it. You’ll likely explode with frustration because of how much you let yourself take in while being around them.

At times like these, all you needed was some peace and quiet.

It was funny how a third-party could figure out a solution to this, but you definitely couldn’t. Plans run in your head over and over again, repeating themselves so you don’t forget.

Dinner at 8.

Movie night begins at 9.

Come home around 2, another sleepless night. Maybe tonight you’ll finish your assignments. What about that K-drama though?

First class at 08:30 tomorrow.

And then

Stop.

Please. Stop.

Telling that aloud to your brain seems as if you have more control over it than it does you, but that’s not it at all. In fact, it’s the other way around. It has way more power on you than you do it, but saying that out loud makes it seem as vice versa.

If a person is thinking, is the brain controlling the person or is the person controlling the brain?

Your thoughts stop there.

You take a hold of your abandoned phone, hands freezing but you pay it no attention.

To [taehyungie]:

Can you come over with the others?

A sigh, then another, and another. You just can't stop.

From [taehyungie]:

why

did something happen

You can’t bring yourself to answer anymore, to type anymore, apathy regaining control over you.

From [taehyungie]:

yn

are you okay???

i’m coming right now

stay there

Your heart’s beating in your chest but you’re barely breathing. And it hurts, the pressure weighing down on your chest, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Your heart hurts, and it hurts as it beats, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You lay there.

You’re sobbing now, tears brimming in your eyes. They don’t fall out, but it burns to have your eyes open as the air around you seems to be too much for them, and so you shut them tight, hands balling into fists.

Help.

It’s too much, all too much-

You can’t take it anymore. You can’t destroy yourself like this and you know that, but-

Fuck, how badly do you want to cry right now? How badly do you wish you could let it out so you wouldn’t have to deal with it? But you just can’t anymore.

You slide down from the bed unwillingly, to sit on the ground, you back supported by the polished wood. Begging the heavens to let you cry. Begging.

The tears disappear as soon as they come.

It’s fifteen minutes later that you hear the doorbell ring and you freeze.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You can’t. You regret it, telling him to come over, to bring everyone with him. Why did you even-?

You don’t have the power to stand up, but you do it anyway, hearing them shout your name, half limping to get to the door downstairs.

Hand trembling as it reaches for the doorknob, you let out a shaky breath as you turn it to open the door.

They’re here.

Company.

Fuck.

“YN, are you okay!?” Taehyung’s the first one to ask, inviting himself inside as he holds your shoulders and takes you to the living room, saying things you don’t pay attention to. The others follow him behind.

You don’t say anything as they sit you down on the couch, making sure you feel comfortable. Yoongi sits down next to you, his hands find yours and you flinch, causing him to loosen his hold on them.

“Sorry. I should’ve asked first.”

You shake your head.

You can’t speak. You want to stay silent, keep everyone quiet. But they go on, anyway. “What happened?” Namjoon asks, raising a brow. Each of them seat themselves around you, either on the couch or on the floor right in front of you. You can’t even look down to see your hands clasped in Yoongi’s to turn away.

As if they couldn’t already read you like an open book.

“Are you tired?” Jungkook tilts his head, doe-eyes staring up at you from his place on the floor. You shake your head lightly. You want to tell him to get up, sit on the couch, but… It doesn’t matter. It’s not as if you can speak.

“Her hands are cold,” Yoongi remarks, to which you see Jimin pout. “Were you sitting in the aircon for too long? Do you have a fever?”

Putting the back of his hand to your forehead, you watch as Yoongi winces. “She’s burning.” Taehyung sighs, before a look of determination crosses his face.

“Mission SAVE YN starts now!”

You wince at the loudness of his voice, not used to it. He looks at you apologetically before turning back to the others. The rest of the guys look at him with raised brows and confused looks, to which he frowns. “Mission SAVE YN! Let’s take over different duties to help YN feel better,” everyone else nods enthusiastically, sounds of ‘oooh’s fill the living room, as they talk of what they’ll do to play their part in this ‘mission’.

And you’re grateful, really, but…

You can’t help but still sulk. The apathy does not leave.

Hoseok, noticing that, gathers everyone’s attention back together again. “YN, are you really okay?”

“Do you not want our help?”

“Everyone needs some alone time, it’s okay if you do too.”

But how could you feel anything if not for them? Your conflicting feelings grow and grow until you feel as if your existence is just a paradox-

You’re living but you’re not.

“It’s not that easy.” You speak, for the first time in a while, your voice so light and quiet that the ones not sitting right next to you on the couch (Yoongi on your left and Namjoon on your right) have to scoot closer to hear you continue.

“I don’t want this. But I do. I feel conflicted right now. I wanted to go to the movie night, I really did, but…” you pause, trying to organize your thoughts. “I’m a mess. I hate feeling this way, I hate bringing you guys down with me. But you’re the only people that really make me smile and… just seeing texts from Taehyung wasn’t enough this time around.”

Jimin tilts his head at the words, “How do you feel?”

“Tired. Emotionally drained. I can’t smile anymore. I don’t laugh at the things I used to,” you look up to meet eyes with Seokjin, who winks upon the eye contact. You blink- it doesn’t make you smile or giggle as usual.

Namjoon puts his arm around your shoulder, running his hand over your back.

You’re safe.

You’re okay.

“It hurts to feel that way. That nothing understands me anymore. Not even my own self. But I called you all over anyway,” your voice gets louder as it returns to you, tears pooling your eyes again and you sniff, “And I felt bad that I used you all and led you on with the movie night thing but… I’m sorry.”

Namjoon holds you closer at the words, tightening his grip. Your hands reach up to wipe the tears away from your eyes, sniffing as the rest keep quiet. You let yourself live in the moment and enjoy the feeling of comfort that you felt whenever your seven friends came around.

“We’ll make you feel better, only if you want us to. We don’t want to force you,” Seokjin smiles faintly when you look at him upon the words. “And you’re not a bad friend,” Hoseok huffs, grinning brightly when he sees a little smile creep onto your face.

“Thank you.”

So they begin.

Jungkook and Hoseok let you sit at the couch with them as they tell you puns (your favourite things in the world after the boys), waiting for Seokjin to return with snacks. When Mr. Worldwide Handsome returns, he adds onto the puns with his own dad jokes and clever play on words. It is ‘unbelibubble’ how easily you smile when that one joke comes around.

“Getting out of your bubble, I see,” Seokjin says he sets down the tray of snacks on the table, “Unbelibubble!”

Jungkook imitates vomiting. “That one was pretty bad, hyung. I won’t lie,” Hoseok nods lightly, before taking the packet of chips and opening it to crunch into one, passing you over the rest.

“Yah! At least YN smiled at it!”

“YN has the same sense of humour as you. Not surprising,” Jungkook’s and Seokjin’s bickering truly never stops.

You ‘play’ with Taehyung and Jimin next.

“YN says dance like monkeys on steroids,” you smirk, making the two raise their brows at you. Jimin stomps on the ground, pouting, “That’s not-! What even-!?” He manages to say, before bursting out into laughter, falling to the floor at the ridiculous order.

Your version of Simon Says. Much better than the original game, in your opinion.

“Remember Jimin-ah, you have to do it. YN said so!” Taehyung huffs, before trying to dance like how a monkey on steroids would, though it is mainly just flailing his arms in the air randomly, making a few monkey sounds here and there that sounded more chicken-like than they did monkey, but that is fine too.

Jimin snickers, rolling his eyes before crossing his arms to look up and down at Taehyung as he finishes. “That’s all you can do!?”

“Oh yeah! Can you do better!?”

“Watch me!”

Last but definitely not least, comes bed-time with Namjoon and Yoongi.

Yoongi’s slender fingers run through your hair, silently wishing you good night, after you have taken your medicine. The fever should be okay soon, they had said.

“Would it be too much if I tried to sing you lullabies?” Namjoon asks, on the verge of laughing but he somehow keeps it under control. You grin, eyelids growing heavier. “I wouldn’t mind it.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Are you sure you know what you’re signing up for, YN?” Yoongi smirks as he lays down next to you, one arm under his head, the other hand still brushing strands of your hair.

“I love when he sings.”

“And if he wakes up the neighbors?”

“He won’t,” you mumble, drifting off to sleep. “I’ll sing for you then,” you listen to Namjoon say. You don’t hear much before you fall asleep, but from what you do hear, you can tell it’s beautiful. Though now that you think about it, the whole ‘neighbors might wake up’ deal might not be that far-fetched. It is beautiful to you anyway.

---

You wake up the next day in your bed, just how you remember yourself laying down, bodies on both your sides.

Regaining your vision, you see seven men sprawled over the room- three on the bed with you, while four lay on the floor with sleeping bags, sunlight filtering through the windows in your bedroom.

A little smile makes its way to your face, and heart, at how adorable each one of them is.

And how incredibly lucky you are to have them.

[groovybaybee]

Greener - IV

I, II, III

(4k)

cw: mentions of abuse (nothing too intense but better safe than sorry), alcohol consumption

I am in the ocean. The water is warm and comforting as it hugs up against me with each gentle wave. It is calm and peaceful and in turn I am calm. I am in the ocean and I am calm.

 You’re in your kitchen.

“Fuck off,” I whisper, eyes squeezed tightly shut as if they could shield me from the reality of the voice in my head.

 I am in the ocean.

 BUZZ

 I ignore it.

 I am in—

 BUZZ

 BUZZ

 With a deep exhale, I open my eyes and face the brutal reality that the unkind voice lingering in my brain had been right. I am in my kitchen. The bright smiling faces tacked to the walls seem to mock me as I desperately try to regulate the rise and fall of my chest. My lungs unaware that I am not in the middle of a hundred-metre sprint and can probably relax a little.

 Against my better judgment, I pick up the phone that had caused me to spiral in the first place. Quickly, I close Twitter, wishing I had never let myself fall down the thread of comments. I had known it would only cause me to panic but, almost masochistically, I did it anyway.

 Thought I was supposed to be the one organising collaborations with big artists?? Nice work kiddo. Response to the video is pretty good so I can look into booking some studio sessions…

 My focus falls away from my manager’s message. Of course, he saw this as a positive thing. It is a positive thing, really. Only a crazy person would find discomfort in their dream career being boosted along. This is the kind of thing I have always wanted. I want to make music. I want to have people see me and connect with me. But now that the opportunity is there all that I feel is fear.

 You always were ungrateful.

 For once, I do not try to argue with the bad part of my brain. I am ungrateful. How could someone get what they want and find reasons to still be the victim? I do not deserve any of this. How could I, in the sea of so many, be lucky enough to find traction in this industry? Yet all I want to do is run.

 It is not even as though all of the new feedback is negative. To a degree, it would be understandable to want to run away were that the case. No, people were actually incredibly supportive of Harry and I’s impromptu duet. Complimentary even. I should be jumping for joy, but instead I find myself clutching for the countertop beneath me to tether me to the Earth.

 Instinctively, I reach for my phone again, quickly dialling the first number I can think to.

 “Hello lovely lady,” Lucy answers brightly.

 “Luce,” I gasp, mouth remaining open but unable to find the words as my throat seems to tighten up.

 “What’s wrong?” she asks, suddenly serious and I can picture her sat bolt upright. When I can’t formulate a reply, she speaks for me, “Are you at home? I’ll come over.”

 “Yeah.” I manage to breathe out.

 Time seems to warp as I listen to the background noise of Lucy buckling herself into her car and taking the short trip to my house. Only when I hear her set of keys in the lock do I hang up the call, something about her presence comforting me even through the phone.

 “Let’s sit down, yeah?” Lucy says when she sees my face, undoubtedly wide-eyed as gravely breathes pass quickly between my lips.

 She places a hand on my back and eases me away from the counter until my body meets the soft embrace of the sofa.

 “Count to ten with me?”

 Her voice is gentle and reassuring as she watches me, no doubt assessing how severe my state is and which battleplan she needs to access in order to help me calm down.

 When I nod, she waits for me to utter a shaky and broken, “One,” before repeating it and moving from the sofa.

 “Two,” she encourages.

 She opens a window and moves back to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water as I reach “Four.”

 We count together until we reach ten. Not unlike the other times we have done this, she waits for a moment as she observes if I need to start again, or if I am suitably calm enough for her to move on to the next step in her care plan. Deciding on the latter, she passes me the glass of water.

 Gratefully, I take a slow sip.

 “Want to talk or want distracting?”

 “I feel…” I start quietly, uncertain as a sigh passes my lips, “I feel ungrateful and a bit overwhelmed.”

 Lucy just nods. No judgment in her gaze as she digests my words. They dissipate into the air of the living room, sinking into the furniture and slipping under the tape of the unopened moving box in the corner.

 “Is this about the video? Because if it is I’m so sorry for posting it, I just thought you two sounded so good and fit so great together and maybe you’d get a bit more recognition which you deserve completely and—”

 “Lu,” I sigh with a small smile as she rambles apologetically. I pull her into a hug which neither of us expect. “I love you so much. You always know what’s right and you go out and do it. I’m just a bit batshit at the minute and can’t accept the good in things.”

 “I love you.” Lucy mutters into my hair.

 We sit for a while, arms wrapped tightly around one another, swaying slightly. Neither of us want to be the first to move, simultaneously needing to provide comfort and bathe in it. A smile fixes itself on my lips, one Lucy has always been capable of coaxing from me, even during my worst nights. But that is exactly the reason the smile carves its way on to my cheeks; it’s us. It has always been Lucy and me and it will be Lucy and me until our arms can’t hug and our lungs can’t laugh.

 “I think,” I say softly, resentfully pulling away from our embrace, “it’s time to go through his stuff.”

 Lucy nods, eyes a little watery. She sniffles once and that is enough to settle her.

 “Shall I get wine?”

 I cannot help the small bubble of laughter that bursts between my lips, but I nod, nonetheless. We move to set about our own tasks; Lucy gets a bottle of Shiraz and pours two glasses as I pull the, ever so slightly dusty, cardboard box into the centre of the room and peel away the tape sealing it.

 I wait for her to return before opening the flaps, needing her next to me more than I could ever admit. Not that I would have to. She gives me a reassuring squeeze on the arm when she notices my sharp intake of air.

 No going back. I force myself to believe that and open the box.

 Peering into the box, it is less full than I remember, and that in itself pushes me along. On the top, lay a few t-shirts he did not come to collect. I place them in a pile on the living room floor, mentally noting it as one to donate. Beneath the shirts are a collection of photographs, some loose and some framed. Lucy stills beside me, nervously awaiting my tears. They would not come just yet. I remember placing the most upsetting things at the bottom. My heart clenches at the thought of seeing them again, but I push ahead.

 I flick through the photographs, placing the newly empty frames to the other side of the box. It is not nearly as saddening as I had expected. Being able to pass over a timeline of our relationship is almost cathartic, knowing that I do not have to wait weeks and months between these happy memories captured in film.

 “I loved that jacket.” Lucy says softly as we peer at a picture of my ex-boyfriend and I at the beach one night.

 “So did I,” I smile, fingers running lightly over the glossy image, a bright red faux leather jacket which matched my painted smile. “Will didn’t.”

 Lucy’s body slumps beside me and I feel the angry starting to stir inside of her. I put the stack of photos on the floor, deciding not to keep any, and peak back into the box. I can hardly help the laugh that rises from my chest when I see the next item. Not from joy, but from its sheer ridiculousness. My hands reach into the cardboard and pull from it a bathroom scale.

 “You know,” I start, sadness and amusement mingling in my chest, “he fixed these, so I was always ten pounds heavier.”

 Unable to see the dark humour that I do, Lucy’s eyebrows knit together furiously, teeth biting hard on the inside of her cheek to keep her from screaming obscenities.

 I place the scale down on the ground before reaching in to retrieve the last item in the box. The second my fingertips touch the tape, the smile erases from my face.

 Deep breath in.

 Lifting the final photograph from the box, my heart breaks yet again. The memories from that night flush my mind, my whole body quickly covering in goosebumps in an attempt at defence.

 Lucy is silent next to me, waiting for me to say something or react at all. I bring the image closer, throat drying a little more with each inch it nears. I gulp harshly, desperate for some of the moisture collecting at my eyes to travel to my mouth.

 I stare down at the picture of myself in my parents’ garden, mum and dad on either side of me, the three of us beaming uncontrollably. We were happy and excited, I was moving to Los Angeles in a few weeks, completely uncertain if I would be able to make my dream into my career.

 Turning the photograph over is what send tears falling.

 Our sweet Violet,

Words cannot describe how proud we are of you. You are so brave it makes us question if you were adopted without us knowing. You have always been your own person and that is what makes you so very special. It is also the reason that we know you will succeed no matter what you do. You are a wonder. Go forward and show the world.

So much love,

Your biggest fans xx

 The words are beautiful, so sweet and encouraging that reading them now makes me feel a fraud. Tracing my thumb over the lines of tape holding the fragments of the photo together, a gentle sob erupts from inside me. The torn object makes my heart ache enough to think it were trying to mirror it.

 “This was the day I left him,” I manage to force out between sniffs and sobs. “When he ripped this… I couldn’t do it anymore.”

 Reliving my breaking point is something I often find myself doing, experiencing the extreme high of my first ever headlining show, and subsequent extreme low when Will pointed out how unflattering the stage lights were. He took that night from me, stole its joy and tried to grind me back down to a level beneath him.

 I cry hard into Lucy’s shoulder, not caring right now that I was ruining her t-shirt. She does not seem to care either, instead just rubbing my back soothingly and letting me get out the emotions I have kept locked away for so long.

 It is only when I feel Lucy’s body shaking against mine that I pull myself away. My tears stop the second I see hers falling.

 “I’m so sorry.” She gets out, eyes bloodshot as deep but silent sobs wrack her body.

 “It’s okay.” I coo, hating seeing my best friend cry more than any object in that box.

 “It’s not. I’m supposed to protect you and I didn’t see what he was doing to you.” She is starting to hyperventilate as the tears fall faster and heavier now.

 “Hey,” I whisper, placing a hand either side of her head to get her to focus on me and really listen, “No one did, not even me.” My voice cracks slightly at the admission, but it is what we both need to hear in order to forgive ourselves even the smallest amount.

 Our breathing regulates, the tears start to dry, and I look back to the image with a fond memory.

 “Do you remember the day we left?”

 Lucy gives me a breathy and snotty but genuine laugh. “Yeah. Mum packed me about five boxes of chocolate fingers.”

 “And they wouldn’t let us go through security with them so we had to stand and eat as many as we could.”

 We share a laugh at the fond memory, glad to remember ourselves so sweet and naïve.

 I pick up an empty frame from the floor, slipping the taped-up photograph inside and set it on the coffee table.

 “I’m not letting him have any more of me.”

 She nods and we sit for a moment.

 “Thank you for always being next to me.” I say, a lump forming in my throat yet again, however this time, my heart swells instead of breaking.

 “You and me.” She says with a soft, slightly teary smile as she extends a pinky finger for me to connect with. Of course, I do.

 * * *

“He said he wants to talk when he’s back from New York.” Lucy tells me nervously as she stares down at her phone.

 “Could be a good thing.” I argue, reaching out my hand to lift my nearly empty wine glass from the coffee table. I bring it to my lips carefully, my laying position on the sofa not aiding my slightly messy actions.

 “I don’t know, he got funny the other day when I left his place.” Lucy mutters, gulping at her newly replenished glass.

 “Luce, I’m going to be completely honest with you.” I say, sitting upright and trying to avoid the urge to hiccup as I move. “I think he likes you, and I think you like him too… and I think that scares you a bit.”

 Lucy pauses, chewing on my words before responding with a sigh, “I think you’re right.”

 “When aren’t I?” I tease, earning an eye roll, “Seriously though, Joseph is great, and he would take care of you.”

 “That’s scary.” Lucy whispers to herself more than me, “What do I do if I’m not the one looking after people?”

 “You’ll always have to look after me.” I joke, squeezing her knee lightly.

 “That’s what I got Harry for.” She teases, unknowingly making my stomach squeeze just at the mention of him. “What?” she laughs, noticing my sudden silence.

 I tell her everything. Running her through every moment with Harry, from our first date excitement, to accidentally on purpose friend-zoning him, to breaking the surface on my past relationship. As I describe each of our encounters, I recognise the lightness in my chest when I speak his name. Each small interaction I recall seems to stoke the embers in my chest, burning hot and steadily as I catch her up.

 “I think you like him but you’re afraid.” Lucy repeats my own advice back to me with a smug smirk.

 “Wouldn’t you be?” I defend.

 “Oh definitely, but if you like him why are you waiting around. Be brave.” Her voice is so calm and matter of fact that her words seem nothing but logical, all my excuses flying out the window as I let her advice sink in.

 Except for one.

 “I don’t think he likes me like that, maybe he did at the start… but not anymore.”

 “You can’t know that unless you ask him.” She replies, again as if it’s the most blatant thing in the world. Which I suppose it is.

 Maybe I should be brave. I look to the newly framed photograph and find my answer. Maybe I will be.

 * * *

 Lucy made me text Harry that night before she left. He replied before I had finished locking the front door.

 Yesss are you free Friday? I potentially have an idea – Harry

 Before I know it, I find myself in the car park of The Forum in Inglewood, Harry’s hand slipped effortlessly into mine as he guides us through backdoor after backdoor.

 Adrenaline courses through me as we wind through corridors, hearing the support act through the overhead speakers. We had already missed part of the show and were desperately trying to make up for the time lost sat in traffic.

 Harry takes care of everything, shaking hands with everyone we interact with and thanking them graciously when they help us locate our seats. I watch him, slightly awe-struck, as we make our way to our little section by the balcony. The space is more private than general seating and I wonder what strings Harry had to pull to get such incredible last-minute tickets.

 “Comfortable?” Harry asks as we get settled.

 I nod, afraid that if my mouth were to open, I would let everything slip. Who could blame me though? The kindness and sincerity behind his eyes are enough to make anyone swoon.

 No time to dwell on the way his eyes glide across my face, the crowd roars, almost making me jump as they drag me from my daydream.

 Up on stage, Fleetwood Mac take their positions. A kick drum meets with the first few notes of The Chain, sending thousands of screaming fans into overdrive, ecstatic to see their idols in the flesh. Harry and I easily fall into that category, excitedly squeezing the other’s hand as the song builds.

 “Oh my God!” I scream, head thrown back momentarily, unable to contain my wonderment at whatever cosmic coincidence allowed this to by my life.

 It is loud. I feel the drums rattle in my chest, bass swirling in the pit in my stomach. My free hand grips the bar of the balcony, desperately trying to tether me to reality before I float away into whatever heavenly dream I have fallen into.

 The show goes on, each passing song appearing to be a fan favourite as the crowd only grows wilder and more liberated. I watch with glee as each and every person moves freely, dancing and singing excitedly as Second Hand News transitions into Say You Love Me.

 My gaze flits back to Harry for the hundredth time since the show began, admiring the joy radiating from him. It is infectious and feeds me until my rays begin to pour out of me as well.

 Harry is goodness. Any other day, I would have used this as a reason to drive a wedge between us. He brought happiness while I worried that I drained it from the world.

 But here, with him, I know the truth. I feel the good and the beauty in the world, and I know that I am a part of that. I do not drain him, we fill each other up.

 “Harry,” I desperately call over the music.

 Instantly, his eyes are on me, smile still present but quickly glancing over me to ensure my wellbeing.

 “I’m sorry I friend-zoned you!” is all I can think to say. Somehow, it seems to be enough. Harry lets out a beautifully easy laugh, dimples deep-set in his cheeks as he lets go of my hand in order to wrap both arms around me.

 “It’s okay.” He chuckles, quickly letting go of me and turning me towards the stage so as not to miss anything. His arms linger around me, hugging me slightly from behind, swaying us almost anxiously.

 “We don’t normally do requests, but this will have to be an exception.” Stevie says, her voice light as a playful smile finds its way on to her face. “This is Skies the Limit.”

 “I was going to choose Storms but didn’t want to see you sad.” Harry utters in my ear, confirming every complimentary thought I have of him.

 My jaw struggles to stay closed as I watch the band play my song. Harry did this for me. My favourite, non-depressive, song is playing in front of all of these people. For me. Because of him.

 His name tumbles from my lips, breathless and unbelieving that I am not existing in some kind of simulation.

 I turn to look at him, gobsmacked, when I find his tentative gaze. Never have I seen him so timid, as though I might think this gesture too much. I mean, it is. There is no way on Earth someone could deserve to feel so cherished. No one could possible earn this heart-swelling sensation. No one is worthy of this level of care. But here I am. I get to be with him and being with Harry is like every birthday rolled into one. He drives me wild and keeps me calm, often managing to do both simultaneously.

 For once, I do not care what anyone else thinks. All that matters is the man standing in front of me and the decision I need to make. Am I going to let this pass me by and shy away from potential happiness yet again? Or will I be brave and take a chance?

 Harry watches me cautiously as my brain tries to spiral and twist itself into knots of self-doubt. But every wonderful decision I have every made required an element of risk. What would my younger self think if she saw me fumble this chance? She was always so fearless, why can’t I be?

 “Remember at Lucy’s? You asked what I’d do if I wasn’t scared.” I say, palms starting to sweat as I feel the edge of the cliff approaching fast.

 Harry nods.

 “I didn’t tell you that if I weren’t so scared, I would let myself fall for you...”

 Our eyes search the other’s face; mine desperate for any sort of reaction, his cautiously awaiting a hint of insincerity.

 “Funny thing is I don’t think it will stop me.”

 And like that, the cliff is far behind me and I wait in limbo for any response.

 My heart wishes for Harry to scoop me up in his arms, bend me low and kiss me like a solider coming home from war. My mind worries that he will throw up over the side of the balcony from sheer disgust at the very notion. However, Harry provides neither anticipated response. Instead, a stifled smile spreads across his face.

 “I know,” he grins, “Lucy told me.”

 “For fuck’s sake!” I laugh incredulously, my head thrown back in despair and amusement. I should have guessed she would continue meddling. “I’m going to kill her.”

 “Do you think you could wait a while to do that?” Harry asks when I finally meet his eyes again, his hands slipping up my back, pulling our bodies ever so slightly closer together.

 “Why?” I sigh, half-joking.

 “So I can do this.”

 Each of Harry’s hands settle on either side of my head, a thumb instinctively grazing across the soft skin of my cheek. I have just enough time to register his touch before his lips come down to meet mine.

Our first kiss is fuelled with longing and ignited with hope. A new type of excitement spreads through my chest as his lips melt with mine, soft and sweet, as all fears and doubts seem to drown out with the roar of the arena. Some other time I will tell Harry about Will and how he affected me, and things will be okay, because with Harry things are okay. He makes them okay. And with heaving chests and his forehead pressed against mine, for the first time in a long time, I feel the potential for a free kind of love.

masterlist

[seigyokus]

9.4 - Calculation and Fabrication

Idolish Seven - Part 3, Chapter 9.4 For more Part 3 translations, click here!

Translation below the cut!

Thorvald: Good evening. Sorry to interrupt in the middle of a meal. I would like to offer a suggestion to everyone. Thorvald: How do you feel about setting up surveillance cameras in this room? IDOLiSH7: No! Izumi Mitsuki: You goddamn stalker! First you follow Nagi around, then you come in and drink our miso soup, and now you wanna set up cameras!? Nikaidou Yamato: You’re mighty bold for a stalker! Like hell we'd say yes to that! Thorvald: It is only reasonable for all of you to react that way. Very well. I shall be bringing Nagi-san back to Northmare with me then. IDOLiSH7: What!? Yotsuba Tamaki: He! He's tryna kidnap Nagicchi! Nanase Riku: We would never hand Nagi over to a stalker! Sougo-san, do you see anything that'd work as a weapon? Osaka Sougo: ......Here, take this! Izumi Mitsuki: You can't just throw glass pots around! That one’s expensive! *door opens* Rokuya Nagi: Thorvald.... Oh! What's the matter, everyone!? Nanase Riku: This dude's been stalking you, hasn't he! Rokuya Nagi: Well, if you were to call him a stalker you would not be wrong, but.... He is not the stalker I spoke of the other day.... Nikaidou Yamato: Y’know.... You’ve got an awful lot of stalkers.... Rokuya Nagi: Hm.... I am quite a sinful man, if I do say so myself. Thorvald: You misunderstand. I am not stalking Nagi-san in the slightest, I-- Ah.... Yotsuba Tamaki: ......!? A bunch of stuff just fell outta his pocket! Izumi Mitsuki: And they're all pictures of Nagi...! Nanase Riku: He has pictures of Nagi as a kid too! He's a veteran stalker!! Izumi Iori: ......This picture.... It must've been taken in a rather luxurious mansion.... Ah.... Rokuya Nagi: Thanks, Iori. Rokuya Nagi: Dropping pictures of my face to the ground is rather impolite, Thorvald, is it not? Thorvald: I apologize for the unacceptable behavior-- Ah.... Sorry, Nagi-san. Rokuya Nagi: In spite of the fact that you are behaving in a manner unbefitting of a subject of Northmare, you dare to warn me? I declare hereafter.... (1) Rokuya Nagi: ....... Izumi Mitsuki: Oh.... They started talking in Northmarean.... Nikaidou Yamato: I have no clue what they're talking about.... If they were talking in English, at least I'd have some idea of what's going on.... Nanase Riku: Nagi, are you sure you don't need to contact the police? He really isn't a stalker? Rokuya Nagi: ....... It is alright. Do not worry, he will be going home now. Thorvald: Thank you for the dinner, it was very delicious. Thank you for having me over. Thorvald: Nagi-san. You can only defer for so long. You are running out of time. Rokuya Nagi: All because the entire lot of you are incompetent. Thorvald: That is, unfortunately, painfully through. (2) Yotsuba Tamaki: You mean, 'painfully true?' Thorvald: That is, unfortunately, painfully true. Good night. May you have splendid dreams. *door closes* Izumi Mitsuki: ....... He came and went like a storm. Man, what a guest.... Rokuya Nagi: A storm would have been more well-mannered than him. Nikaidou Yamato: Nagi, are you really okay...? What the hell is this stalker business? And why didn't you tell me about it? Rokuya Nagi: He is my otaku friend. I was only jesting when I called him a stalker. Nikaidou Yamato: Why'd he break the window, then? Rokuya Nagi: Perhaps he got a little carried away in his excitement. He's in a foreign country, after all. (3) Yotsuba Tamaki: Really? Like, he said he was gonna take you with him back to Northmare and stuff.... Rokuya Nagi: Don't worry. He was just copying something from an anime. Izumi Mitsuki: You're positive everything's okay, right? You're not gonna get stabbed by some weirdo outta nowhere, right? Rokuya Nagi: Oh! My friend! Thank you for worrying about me! I am very happy! Rokuya Nagi: I am alright. If there is ever a night where I cannot sleep, kept awake by my fear, I'll take my Kokona DVD with me and go to your room. Rokuya Nagi: Why don’t we watch it right now! Let's turn on the TV.... Oh.... TV News: Weekly magazines have been publishing a special scoop on TRIGGER's Tsunashi Ryuunosuke-san and Hanamaki Sumire-san! Just what kind of relationship do they have? Nanase Riku: Tsunashi-san...?

Reporter: Tsunashi-san, is it true you invited Hanamaki-san to join Yaotome Productions? Reporter: And when did you get so close to her? Anesagi Kaoru: Please let us through. Ryuu, hurry up! Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: Sorry. I’m afraid can't answer that.

Man: Did you hear? Apparently Yaotome Productions just went and snatched up Tsukumo Production's top seller! It was all over the news! Woman: He's being super ungrateful to both agencies! I bet he just wanted to get his girl into the same agency as him, that’s all. Man: Nah, I don’t think so. She was gonna be TRIGGER's rival at Black or White, so he seduced her and made her fall for him!

Yaotome Gaku: Ryuu's getting unilaterally bashed.... Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: I'm really sorry.... I didn't know this was going to happen.... Yaotome Gaku: You didn't do anything wrong. You've been politely declining interviews and doing the usual stuff! Yeah? Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: Yeah.... But it feels different this time around.... Yaotome Gaku: How so? Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: The interviewers are really.... Aggressive. It's like they're on the offensive. Yaotome Gaku: ......The articles are like that too.... They've said all sorts of things about us, but this is the first time they're being so blatant. *door opens* Yuki: Is everyone here? Kujou Ten: Yuki-san.... Momo: Ryuunosuke, I'm sorry! I'm really sorry! Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: What's wrong, Momo-san? Momo: I know I texted you about it, but all of this is my fault, Ryuu! Yaotome Gaku: What do you mean......?

Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: Modern-day Chiba Salon...? And I'm the one who’s supposedly managing it...? Momo: Ryou-san's got it all wrong. He's trying to get all of the power in the industry right now, and one of the things that'd get in his way is organizations. Momo: Power is like a game of Othello. You get people to turn to your side, little by little, bit by bit. Momo: If one or two people protested, they wouldn't stand a chance. But if all of those people teamed up.... No one would have to turn to his side and they'd all be able to resist. Momo: I gathered all my friends together so we could have fun, but he probably thinks we're that kind of organization. Yaotome Gaku: But isn't that weird? If anything, he should be gunning for you and not Ryuu, Momo-san. Momo: That's true.... Have you ever done something that he'd bear a grudge against you for? Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: Me!? I don't think so.... Kujou Ten: People don't usually hold grudges against Ryuu. He's not that type of person. What about you, Momo-san? Yaotome Gaku: Alright, hear me out. I'm only asking this because we don't want to doubt your innocence, not because we suspect you. But you're not on the same team as Tsukumo Ryou, right? Momo: Of course not! If it came down to attacking Ryuu, then I'd rather send an assassin to off myself! Yuki: Momo would never betray you guys. Momo: Yuki...! Yaotome Gaku: And why can you say that so confidently? Yuki: Because he'd never do something that'd make me hate him. Right? Momo: I swear on that. Kujou Ten: I think so too. Gaku, you’re being rude. They've looked after us all this time. Yaotome Gaku: I said it was just in case! Yuki: Well, how about you, Gaku-kun and Ten-kun? Have either of you ever done something to incur Tsukumo's wrath? Kujou Ten: ...This has nothing to do with President Tsukumo, but there's a boy who sees me as his enemy. Yaotome Gaku: What's he like? Kujou Ten: ......He's one of the kids Kujou-san took care of. Yuki: Kujou, again......? Kujou Ten: ....... Yuki: Well, whatever. As long as you're happy with Kujou-san. Kujou Ten: If there's something you'd like to say, please speak. Yuki: Ten-kun, are you a masochist? Momo: Yuki, that’s a little too direct! Kujou Ten: I don't really understand, but just know that I'm a sadist when it comes to senpai who ask inconsiderate questions. Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: Ten, that’s pushing it a bit! You might actually start a fight with him! Yaotome Gaku: Well, we can't help it. Ryuu, you were set up by that woman. We just gotta prove that. Yaotome Gaku: Is there anyone who could prove it? Was there anyone else who was there? Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: ......Ah. Yaotome Gaku: There was!? Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: There was.... But given the situation and the fact that Tsukumo's definitely got something up his sleeve, I can't get them involved. Yaotome Gaku: This isn't the time for that shit! We're gonna get their testimony and prove your innocence! Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: I can't. I won't tell you. Momo: Wait, is it.... Your girlfriend? Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: N-no! Yaotome Gaku: What the hell? You should've told us you were dating someone! Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: I'm not! Yuki: Of course he wouldn't want to get his girlfriend involved. What kind of girl is she? Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: I'm telling you guys, it's not a girl! Kujou Ten: If that's the case, then why don't you tell us who it is? Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: Yeah, but.... I don't want to get him involved.... Yuki: Fine. So be it. Momo, Gaku-kun. Hold him down. Yaotome Gaku: What are you gonna do? Yuki: Torture him. Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: Torture!? Huh? Wait-- Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: Ahahaha! Ah! Stop! Stop it! Ahaha! It tickles! Ahahaha! I, I can't take it anymore! Kujou Ten: How merciless.... Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: Ahahaha! Ahahahaha! Okay! Okay! I give up! I'll talk!

To be continued....

TL Notes/comments:

THANKS @kuriiii FOR PROOFING!!! 

THORVALD IS THE GODDAMN FUckIng drops 2098042 pcitures meme I CANT BELIEVe

(1) this bit kind of goes on for a bit without any real subject so i just tried 2 make it sound as official as possible (2) alright there's a japanese saying/kotowaza that goes 'mimi ga itai' (lit. my ear hurts) which applies to anything that has been said over and over to you to the point where you're tired of hearing OR something that is painfully true. Thorvald says 'mimi ga nigai' (lit. my ear is bitter) LOL (3) literally he says 'hustle' but clearly some katakana-eigo is at work because with every example sentence I read the more i was like 'yeeeeeeeah hustle does not mean what it means in english in japanese'

As usual, if you see any mistakes/mistranslations/etc, please message me!

Thank you for reading!!

[voyages-extraordinaires]

CR: ~VE~ Chapter 19

Another month passes in a whirlwind of metal and steam.

I spend as much time as I can observing Barbicane, Smith, Nemo, and Cardia’s work. They’re like a machine creating a machine, perfect synchronicity.

But soon the work becomes too big to hide, and I’m inelegantly tossed out of the warehouse.

I stand at the closed door, my hands on my hips.

“What, exactly, is the point of this?” I doubt I’m loud enough for any of them to hear me, but it feels empowering to raise my voice. “I’ve seen the blueprints! It’s not a secret!”

I feel like a child being kept out of the drawing room on Christmas Eve, but I know that I would be wasting time trying to sneak glimpses in.

I can practically hear Fogg chiding me from across the ocean, so I decide to occupy myself by going on miniature ‘expeditions’ across the island.

When I make the suggestion to Smith over dinner, she’s all too eager to be my guide.

“Not that I’m ungrateful for the opportunity Professor Barbicane and Professor Nemo gave me, but it’s like the two of them are speaking an entirely different language. Even I, the greatest American engineer, can’t keep up... maybe I should call them ‘sensei’ after all.”

She sighs dejectedly, and I pat her arm.

“And poor Cardia! She’s been busy trying to get the professors to eat and sleep! They always encourage me to take care of myself, but if I suggest that they take a night off...”

The both of us begrudgingly decide to leave the boys to their fate and proceed with our exploration of the island.

After that, my weeks are filled with discovery, contemplation, and study. I should be thrilled, but...

I cannot stop myself from worrying about Nemo.

I even leave the door to my room unlocked in the hopes that maybe...

But my bed is always empty.

There’s not even a hint of lavender oil on the pillows.

I feel pathetic acting like this. When did I become so needy?

I’ve always had friends, even when I was at the university. Conseil was my constant companion, but I never longed for him like this. Even my romantic partners, the men and women who filled my life and my body-- I never craved them the way I crave him.

I’d be happy just to see Nemo again, even if we didn’t touch. Just to see his smile, hear his loud laugh.

.....

But, despite how badly I want it, I’m still surprised to return one evening to see him asleep on my bed.

As much as I would love to comment on his beauty, he looks rather... ‘exhausted’ would be an apt word. There are rings around his eyes from his goggles, and he didn’t even bother to take off his boots before collapsing on my bed.

I want to wake him, to hold him tightly and tell him how much I missed him. But he looks so peaceful, he’s not even snoring.

I smile a little to myself as I walk over and sit down on the bed, unsure of what to do.

His eyebrows furrow at the movement and he slowly opens his eyes, blinking up at me.

“Polly-chan...” his voice is raspy with exhaustion, and his smile is weak. “It’s doooooone...”

I look down at him, unsure if I understand what he’s saying.

“It’s done?” I repeat. “You mean, you mean the submarine?!”

He nods weakly, and in my excitement I fling myself on him and throw my arms around his neck, sending the pillows flying.

“Nemo!!” I cry, burying my head in his shoulder. “You wonderful, wonderful genius--!!”

That warmth... it’s so good to feel him again. Sparks are flying throughout my body as I pepper his neck with affectionate kisses.

He yelps, but eventually settles down and wraps an arm around my shoulders with a sigh. “We’re doing an underwater test for it tomorrow. If it’s succeeeessful, there won’t... beeee aaaaanything... stoooopping....”

But he closes his eyes before he can finish his thought, and soon he begins snoring loudly.

I watch him for a while-- for someone who’s so amazingly loud, even in his sleep, he still looks peaceful.

I try to slide myself out so that I can turn out the electric light, but Nemo’s grip on me is firm. I try again, and he mumbles something incoherently before nuzzling his cheek into my hair.

I laugh quietly and settle down in his arms, my bed for the night seemingly dictated.

“Goodnight, my mad scientist,” I whisper before closing my own eyes.

-----

“It’s bigger than I thought it would be...” I breathe, unable to contain my excitement.

“Mm~hmm, it really is something I can be proud of,” Nemo replies as he puffs his chest out..

“How... wide is it, exactly? Do you think it’ll be comfortable?”

Nemo smirks, “Well, I’m used to tiiiiiiight spaces.”

I swallow, then look up at him. “If... if you’re experienced with it, then, I guess...” I reach out towards it before hesitating.

Nemo takes my hand and kisses my knuckles before guiding my fingers to it.

My hand is trembling, but I finally touch it. “It’s beautiful...”

This makes Nemo giggle. “It is~! I can’t wait until that moment when I’m finally insiiiide...”

“M-Me too... I’ve waited so long...”

“Uh-huh! 30 meters from stem to stern, cylindrical, a cool and sleek beauty to tame the wilds of the blue!” Barbicane chimes in, happily slapping the side of the submarine.

I pull my hand away from the metal, smiling. “She really is gorgeous. Oh, Nemo, I know I’ve said it before, but you are a genius!”

“Yeeeeeees--! Say it again, say it louder! I! AM! A! GEEEEEENIIUUUUSSSS!”

“Oy, Polly-chan! Don’t make that guy’s head bigger than it is already!” Barbicane sighs loudly. “Geez, what can a guy do to get a little credit around here...”

“Impey Barbicaaaane... do you need a hug of recognition?” Nemo leers over at him.

Barbicane jumps back, shaking his head. “Unless your name is Cardia, that’s an easy ‘NO’!”

But it’s obvious that Nemo is relishing the attention. He’s swaying gleefully, like a child who just got praised.

It’s darling.

Thanks to Smith’s devoted workers, we’re able to safely get the submarine in the sea, in the harbor built just for this grand event.

Even though the metal is a brassy color, I can’t help but compare it to a jewel floating in the sea. It’s breathtaking. It almost looks like a living thing, a mysterious cryptid of the sea calling for me to follow it.

“By the waaaay, Polly-chan...” Nemo looks over at me. “I was hoping to get some input on the crew.”

Crew?

Yes, I suppose with something this big, it’s not a two-person job. I swallow my disappointment.

“How many people do you think we’ll need?” I ask.

Nemo idly runs a hand through his hair. “I thiiiiiiiiink.... two more people should just about cover it!” He’s trying to look cool, but the way he’s shifting his weight from one foot to the next betrays his anxiety.

And he’s clearly glancing in Barbicane’s direction.

“Impey Barbicaaaaaane...” he starts, but then he wrinkles his nose and looks away, muttering loudly to himself: “No... not yeeeet. The experiment hasn’t been fiiiinished yet....”

He looks back at me and I see his eyes narrow behind his goggles.

“The results aren’t concluuuuuusive yeeeeeeet....”

Results... my results?

That’s right, the submarine isn’t the only ‘project’ he’s working on. He also considers me a project.

My heart pounds when I remember that. It’s a twisted form of conditioning, but isn’t all love, in a way? It’s all so selfish, so hungry...

I try not to think about it too much. It’s true that I’ve been completely entangled in this scientist’s web, but did I not put myself there willingly? I handed him the rope with which he could tie me, so to speak.

And here are the results of one experiment: this beautiful chariot that will carry us across the Atlantic.

What will be the results of the other one...? What will we create...?

“Hee hee hee...” Nemo’s laugh sounds dangerous, and Barbicane instinctively takes a step away. “Weeelllll then, what are we waaaaiiting for?! Let’s climb abooooooard!”

It really is a spectacular ship. As Nemo helps me down the ladder, I slowly look around to take it all in.

I bring my hands to my face, covering my mouth to hide the cry of joy that threatens to escape my mouth. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted! It’s a beautiful palace of science, a majestic place where I can finally penetrate places no one else has discovered--! Finally...

The submarine is broken down into four main rooms, each sealable and watertight in case the unthinkable happens (this was Cardia’s design idea, a fact that Barbicane was very proud to point out).

The room we entered is, unsurprisingly, the bridge. This is the biggest of the rooms, and all four of us can fit comfortably in it. Though there are two large portholes, there is also a periscope for viewing things at a distance.

I stand on my tiptoes to peer through, and Nemo pulls it down to my height.

“How high can it go?” I’m chattering like a child as I look around.

“10 meters,” says Nemo, putting a hand on my shoulder to steady me.

I turn around and look up at him. Apparently my expression alone asks my question, because he giggles and nods before showing me how to make the periscope ascend.

I eagerly make it go as high as it can before I begin to look around.

“This island is beautiful...” I whisper. “I’ve seen it so many different ways, but this is the most magnificent... framed in metal and blue...”

I lower the periscope again to peer at the scientists on the dock, and smile when I see Smith point at the submarine. She energetically waves towards the periscope, and I wave back until I realize that she can’t see me. I pull away and laugh at myself, wiping tears from my eyes.

The second room is the living quarters. Four bunks are lined up against the walls, betraying Nemo’s innocent ‘hypothesis’ that the submarine was meant for four people. He had planned on this from the beginning. It’s rather precious, in a strange way.

I nudge him with my elbow and gesture to the beds. “Four bunks?”

“Mm... I doubt we’ll have the same sleep schedule, Polly-chan, but I suppose we could crash in the salon if you need some snuuuuuuggle time~”

I feel hot blood rush to my cheeks. “T-That’s not what I was talking about!”

He just grins, and I swear I see a wink behind his goggles. He knew exactly what I was referring to, and dodged my line of questioning effortlessly!

This room itself is spartan, and I’m surprised that not only a bathing area but a small galley has somehow been crammed inside. Nemo is very proud of the desalination device he created, and he orders us all to sample the water.

Barbicane lifts his glass. “A toast, then! A toast to water that doesn’t taste like it came straight from the ocean!”

“Nnghh.. that’s a pretty lousy toast, Impeeeey Barbicaaane...” says Nemo. 

“Fine, fine...” Barbicane sighs. “Then what about a toast to our beautiful assistant, the radiant Cardia-chan!”

I begin to raise my glass to that, but Cardia shakes her head. “Why not to the submarine itself?”

I shrug, putting my glass back down. “Come to think of it, I haven’t learned the name of this beauty yet.”

“Ahahaha... weeeeeell, I was hoping to save the official christening for our voyage, but now is a good time as any!” Nemo raises his glass. “Maaaaaaaaaay IIIIIII present! To! You! The Harper!”

It's like hearing her name gives even more life to the submarine as four friends clink their glasses.

“Aaah, but this place is a little too cramped to enjoy a driiink, isn’t it? Come, come, follow meeee~!”

The next room is the crown jewel of the submarine: the salon.

It’s a shocking contrast to the starkness of the rest of the submarine, perhaps alluding to the passions of its creator hiding behind layer after layer of anguish.

Or, perhaps he just wanted a nice room for his pipe organ.

And what a pipe organ it is, so large it takes up almost the entirety of one of the walls. Across from it is the porthole that dwarfs me, towering so high and wide that we would have to dive quite far for the ocean surface to be hidden from my view.

Unable to stop myself, I run up to it with a giddiness that betrays my childish excitement. I’m not alone, though, as Cardia is soon next to me, looking out at the waves gently sloshing against the rounded pane.

“I could stay here forever...” I breathe.

I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel swallowed by my emotions. I look away and wipe my eyes, hoping that nobody else notices. I’ve wanted to be here for so long, and here we are, floating on that endless sea. That sea where my freedom dwells.

“Then stay,” I hear Nemo behind me. I turn around to look at him, and Cardia hurriedly takes Barbicane by the arm.

“You want to show me the engine room, right?” she says, practically shoving him through the door.

The door shutting behind them is the signal, and Nemo and I quickly find ourselves in each others arms again. Our hands grip at the fabric separating us, savoring the barriers between us, torturing ourselves by feeling our bodies shift beneath as our hands roam over backs, chests, hips, thighs, necks, hair...

I move to finally kiss Nemo, but he turns his head so that my lips fall on the corner of his mouth. I let out a longing sigh, but show my respect for his choice by trailing my kisses up his cheek instead. I finish with a kiss on his nose, and then both of us burst out laughing.

“Just a liiiiiiiiiiiiiiittle longer!” Nemo rubs my back. “You made meeeee wait, and now I’m doing the same for yooooou! Fwee hee hee~ just until this beaaauuuty can sink beneath the waves and our success is assuuuuured!”

He cups my cheek in his hand, smiling gleefully at me.

“Yes, that look of adoration on your face, surely- surely diving beneath the sea will complete my experiment!” He leans in rubs his cheek against mine. “And when it’s finally done, when you’re finally mine completely, then...”

He pulls me close to him and hugs me tight, leaning his chin on my shoulder. “I will give you freeeeedom! I will give you happiness.... the only way I caaaan!”

-----

Barbicane, Cardia, and Nemo are on the bridge-- with Nemo at the helm, of course.

We’re sailing out to an acceptable depth for a submerged tour circling the island. This will be our test, and if we’re successful the next step will be our voyage!

As much as I wanted to be near Nemo, he told me that I would have a better view of the wildlife from the salon.

We’re sailing along the insular shelf, which can reach up to about 100 fathoms deep, so we won’t have to go out too far to dive.

I hear static over the intercom.

“Laaaaadies and geeeentle-men!”

Nemo’s voice is so ridiculous, I’m a little embarrassed at how it affects me.

“Engiiiiine... STANDBYYYYYYYYYY!!”

I hear Barbicane in the background: “You don’t have to yell that over the intercom, I’m right here!”

I hear footsteps, and soon Barbicane walks through, giving me a smile and a wave as he heads into the back.

A moment passes, and the submarine begins to hum.

“Prepare to DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!!”

I have to cover my ears from the loudness of Nemo’s voice, but the spectacle in front of me makes the ringing in my ears worth it.

We’re diving.

Bubbles begin flying up past the porthole as the surface world disappears into liquid space.

It feels like we’ve entered into a more forgiving sky, plains of coral and rock stretching out beneath us like tiny buildings.

It takes all of my willpower not to press my face against the porthole.

It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Noooow, my most precious guests, sit down and relax while I take you on a tour of this Mysteeeeeerious Islaaaaaaaaand!”

I can’t sit and relax, though. All I can do is stare at the life slowly flitting by like birds.

I’m glad I have a sketchbook nearby, because soon Cardia bursts into the room and excitedly points out the porthole.

“There’s a pod of dolphins ahead,” she says, an excited smile on her face. “I’ve never seen one in person before!”

Cardia and I are standing side-by-side when the dolphins come into view. My hands are trembling as I hold my charcoal.

They’re so close to the Harper that I can see every detail up close.

I sink into the chaise lounge and begin sketching furiously.

We pass various schools of fish like tuna and swordfish, and I’m busy sketching a particularly lovely tuna when Nemo opens the door to the salon.

“Enjoying the tooooour?” he looks over my shoulder at my sketches.

“There’s so much, I don’t know where to begin. I’m drawing as fast as I can...”

“And what about you, Cardia-chan?”

Cardia looks back at us from the porthole and smiles. “It’s exciting. It really feels like the limits of science have been pushed. If we continue like this, I know that Impey will have no trouble reaching the moon!”

“How cuuuuute....” but Nemo’s voice trails off as he looks through the porthole. “Oh-- ohohoho!” He suddenly grins and runs up to the porthole. “Looks like I get to test this out sooner than I thought!” He slides over to the wall next to the porthole and pulls a switch.

A small panel in the floor opens and something that looks like a small phonograph slowly rises.

“What is that?” I ask as Cardia and I walk over to it.

“It’s a hydrophone~” he says. “We’ll be able to hear them! Listen, listen!”

Though we aren’t sure what we’re listening for, we lean in close and listen.

Soon, we hear something. It’s an eerie, echoing noise.

“It sounds... sad...” I whisper.

Nemo tilts his head and gestures to the porthole. I hear Cardia gasp, and I follow her gaze.

In the distance, I see a shadow sailing through the tides like a dirigible.

This time, I can’t stop myself from putting my hands on the porthole and getting as close to the glass as I can.

“It’s a humpback whale,” I murmur. “The males will sing to each other as a form of socialization... I wonder if this one is looking for its companions.”

I can’t begin to describe the beauty of that solitary giant, its lonely call reverberating through the salon.

“It looks just like an angel...” my sentimentality is making my words sound poetic than scientific, but the spectacle in front of me is shaking me down to my very soul.

Soon, the whale drifts out of view, its song fading into the nothingness of the blue. Nemo hits the switch again, and the hydrophone disappears back into the floor. He nods to both of us before leaving with a flourish, sweeping his coat behind him.

“He’s really in his element like this, isn’t he?” Cardia shakes her head. “I wonder if Impey will be like this once he gets into space. .... Pauline?”

I look away from the porthole, wiping my eyes.

“I’m sorry, I just...” I dab my cheeks with a handkerchief. “It’s funny, I didn’t bring this kerchief for myself!”

-----

We spend most of the day sailing around the island. My hands are aching from trying to draw so much, I just can’t keep up with all the life I’m seeing!

But all too soon we’re pulling back into the harbor, to the cheers of Cyrene Smith and her followers.

We’re quickly ushered inside to write our report over a grand dinner. It holds no candle to Barbicane’s cooking, but I’m grateful all the same.

Everybody is so happy... I will truly remember this day. I never thought I would be able to explore this other world, so close to us and yet inaccessible to man.

But I’m not ready for it to end yet, so instead of retiring to the barracks I walk back out to the harbor.

The Harper is still there, of course, glorious in the golden hues of the setting sun. I walk up to her and whisper, “You are so beautiful... it’s all I can do to stand before you.”

“Hmmm~ you miiiiight have missed your calling as a poet!”

I look over to see Nemo approaching the harbor. When he’s in front of me, he grins. “Buuuuut I’m grateful that you ignored that and pursued the gloooorious path of science!”

I laugh and nervously push a strand of loose hair behind my ear. “If I’m gifted at poetry, then how come I can’t think of anything to say right now?”

“Ahhh~ maybe because it’s the researcher who should be doing the talking instead of the test subject, yeeeees~?”

I swallow nervously when he puts his hands on my shoulders.

“Ufufu... you still have that look in your eyes that you did when we first met at the prison. That wonder, that bewilderment, that hungry curiosity...” he lifts my chin up so he can look at me better. “But there’s something deeper to it now, isn’t there? Yes, you said as much that night when we saw my cousin off. But even more, now, tell me--”

He sucks in his breath.

“Do you adore my genius? Will you follow my pursuits to your most extreeeeeme limits?” He trails his gloved fingertips over my mouth. “You already love my creation, the beautiful achievement floating in the water there, but... Professor... my cute, cute professooor... will you take everything I have to give~?”

I can barely say ‘yes’ before our mouths meet. I’m not even sure who leaned in more, who instigated, which one of us gripped the other first and smashed our bodies against each other.

It’s hot, both the humidity and the force of our first kiss. It wasn’t beautiful, not in the least. It was desperate and needy, like our kisses were the only things that could save us from our gnawing loneliness.

Not just our lips, but our teeth and tongues meet, biting and licking and expressing all the shameful and disgusting thoughts we’ve been harboring ever since we met!

When he pulls away to wipe his mouth, I grab him by his long hair and pull him back down to my height.

“You made me--” I lick his lips. “-- Wait for--” a kiss on his chin. “--Half of a--” I put my mouth over his and slide my tongue in as deep as it can go before pulling back for air. “--A damn year!”

Nemo pushes me back, and before I realize what’s happening he has me shoved against the side of the Harper.

“Then teeeeell me!” he grins, his expression muddled with lust and deranged by genius. “Tell me it wasn’t worth every bit of that aaaaagony!”

I pull him back in by the collar. He braces himself against the submarine with both hands, pinning me in-between him and his creation. It’s like his kisses are infecting me with his madness, from my mouth to my jawline and even lower. His breath is hot in my ear, and I shriek in delight when I finally feel him close his mouth over my throat, pressing his teeth into my skin like I wanted him to all those months ago.

I suppose it’s this fairy-tale vampire kiss that finally makes us both slow down. I can feel our pulses throbbing against each other, my blood pounding in my ears as the ache of my neck begins to match the ache coming from inside my body.

Nemo finally pulls back and licks his lips, even though he wasn’t close to drawing blood. Then he leans his forehead against mine and we concentrate on our breathing, slowly realizing that we won’t disappear from each other’s arms.

I slowly, raggedly wrap my arms around his neck and hug him tight, whispering my confession so only he can hear: “I love you.”

He pulls me back away from the submarine and onto the harbor, returning my hug.

“Saying ‘thank you’... isn’t enough, is it?” he whispers, and I feel his lips curve into a smile. “Theeeen... I’ll say the same thing. ‘I love you’, my cute... cute professor. My Polly-chan. I really... reeeeeaaaaaalllly.... love you.”

We let go of one another and he looks down at me, the rising moon casting him in shades as blue as the sea nearby.

It’s strange, but for a moment he looks... torn. Torn and very, very sad.

But in the next moment, he draws me back in to him. “And now, I’ll make you happy the only way I can~”

This time, the kiss is gentle. We’re able to feel the softness of our lips instead of trying to devour each other.

He runs his fingers through my hair and tilts my head back before kissing me again.

I feel a pinch at the base of my neck, and I wince, but Nemo’s kiss distracts me from any other thoughts.

But, I feel my grip on him beginning to slip. My mouth grows heavy, and soon falls slack against Nemo’s skin.

I’m... exhausted.

He cradles me in his arms, my body heavy and my mind groggy.

As I slip away, he pulls back one of his hands, and I see a needle glint in the moonlight. An empty syringe.

I look up at him, at the smile still on his face despite what he’s done.

“Ne..... mo...”

He quietly shushes me and kisses my forehead, petting my hair until I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

[nothingneverforever]

Yesterday (2019)

When I’d just seen the trailers and promo stuff for Yesterday, there was some great excitement in me. I loved The Beatles years ago, I mean, I really really loved them, I’ve got about 15 books on them, borrowed my mom’s credit card to shop online for DVDs of all their original movies when I was 14, etc etc, so Yesterday’s premise added up and seemed to look like something I’d enjoy: Danny Boyle, mysterious ultra-niche alternate reality in an otherwise utterly regular world, some kind of deadpan irony about the whole situation…

Then it came and went in cinemas and I never got down to seeing it. So I watched instead this film review by DazzReviews on Youtube, titled “Yesterday Missed A MASSIVE OPPORTUNITY (SPOILERS)”.  It’s a short and simple analysis of key weaknesses of the film, being that its actual contents greatly pale in comparison to its great potential. Even without watching the film, I understood Dazz’s gripe because even seeing snippets of the film bored me. It is such a unique, and almost cute idea afterall: a blackout causing selective loss of memory in every single individual in this world (save for 3, later to be discussed) where post-blackout, The Beatles and other cultural/social phenomenon do not and have never existed. Our protagonist, who pre-blackout was a struggling singer/songwriter, then decides to release Beatles songs from his memory as his own, thus gaining global popularity and attracting immense adoration. It’s not novel, perhaps reminiscent of time-travel narratives idk, but it’s still fun right?  

Yet even after watching this review video and understanding the film’s flaws and being able to imagine how disappointing the film would have been, watching it in full for myself was still an upsetting experience. Google tells me that Yesterday is of the ‘Drama/Fantasy’ genre, which gives me a good starting point for my critique: how utterly un-fantastical it is.

Our protagonist Jack Malik is LITERALLY the most vanilla, ungrateful, boring, not-alive, nothing-at-all, annoying, pathetically male (in terms of tantrum-throwing and ingratitude) character I have ever seen. None of this is hyperbolic, his character literally sucks so freakin much omfg, absolutely devoid of any redeeming or even remotely INTERESTING qualities at all. In fact save for maybe one scene (which I will talk about below), I don’t think there was another single second in the entire film where we saw him smiling. This is not to say that he’s portrayed as especially tortured or depressed in demeanor, merely to indicate his absolute dearth of warmth and personality.

Meanwhile, it becomes clear as the boring film progresses boringly that Yesterday is in fact nothing more than a love story. The cute Beatles twist is merely a device to show us how Jack and his “love interest” Ellie (inverted commas cos their love sucks omfg I cant imagine that ANYONE viewing it is convinced) were in fact meant to be, with Jack’s momentary superstardom existing to show him that all he ever wanted was his old life, the one with Ellie (even though they were never together because THEY ARENT EVEN MEANT TO BE IN THE FIRST PLACE OKAY….). But, just as Jack’s character itself is flawed and awfully written, our female protagonist Ellie is SOOOOOO early 2000s. Just think of the most typical stock supportive, sweet, pretty, unfailingly kind and patient female whose presence is taken for granted etc etc… So her stock sweetie pie female character coupled with the most unbelievably charmless and unlikable male character make for the most unshippable couple you could possibly imagine. We are supposed to be charmed by her obvious-to-everyone-except-him love for Jack, supposed to have our heartstrings tugged by the singular scene of teenage schoolgirl her standing by the wings of the stage with hearts in her eyes while teenage schoolboy him sings a most soulless rendition of Wonderwall but it literally does absolutely nothing. The means has not met the end! This is a grossly uninspiring love story and there is no fantasy whatsoever!!

Honestly how is this even a Danny Boyle product? But then again… Zhang Yimou, boasting the incredibly genius Raise the Red Lantern (1992) on his resume, also did The Great Wall (2016) so I guess even heroes have the right to bleed or even the best fall down sometimes or something. OMG WAIT  I just googled the film again and not only is it directed by Danny Boyle but also written by Richard Curtis LOL wtfffffffffff okay this is the worst film ever seriously

Early on just after the global blackout thing, before Jack becomes the huge superstar that he does after his music (“his” music) is released into the world, when he first decides to use the songs of The Beatles, he is cajoled by his parents into performing for them in their humble living room. (by the way his parents are played by Sanjeev Bhaskar and Meera Syal who I have LITERALLY seen in about 1000 British TV shows and movies by now… idk maybe Yesterday was intended as a semi-ensemble cast film? Since there are other “appearances” by other known faces… ok whatever.) I guess this scene of him, superstar-to-be, sitting down at his piano in the claustrophobic living room with his parents exaggerating their domestic inclinations and comforts (by holding their cups of tea and settling themselves into their sofa-chairs etc) is meant to be comedic, we’re meant to laugh at how his parents have no idea the genius that is about to be released unto the stratosphere embodied by their all-great son Jack Malik, and it’s a predictable scene: his parents get disturbed by the bell and other things in the first 10 seconds of his performance, so Jack has to begin Let It Be 4 times over and never gets past a few lines… and okay, it’s funny because they are treating Jack’s “performance” as such because he has never before produced anything worthy of actual attention and has never performed in any manner that has demanded any respect given that he was an absolutely mediocre singer, but the scene is ruined by how Jack was written to have to react. Instead of taking it in his stride and recognizing that his parents are taking it so lightly because they have no idea how big the song is going to be because they have had no reason to expect anything great of him before, Jack throws a big fucking tantrum and asks why they cannot and have not respected the greatest song to ever be written etc etc… and okay, maybe this was intentional because we are to infer that Jack’s reaction is a projection of his own insecurities about releasing entirely unoriginal songs as his own, perhaps he has doubts about whether they would do as well as they did when The Beatles themselves released them, perhaps he has doubts that he is the right person to do this at all, anxieties and fears about being able to get away with it all… Sure, but I don’t want to give the writers the benefit of this doubt. If I were to watch the scene with my eyes and ears and not my brain, all I’d see is a dumbass manchild with a temper and ego problem incapable of accepting responsibility for the decisions he’s made, plus being unnecessarily cruel and disrespectful to his simple parents who want only to support him, if superficially. Basically, he’s dumb and the worst protagonist you’d want for a romcom.

But let it not be said that I am an extremist with my views: there was one sub-plot that showed promise and that made me think perhaps there was more to this film than the nothingness it had conveyed hitherto. When Jack played in Moscow, as an opening act for Ed Sheeran, we saw the haunting face of a large man in the crowd, carrying a knowing look in his eyes. It gave us a great sense of unease, seeing his concerned face contrasted with the throng of pretty girls screaming their hearts out (you know, à la “Moscow girls make me sing and shout”). Then later we see an English lady (played by the iconic amazing Sarah Lancashire who I know and love so so much from Happy Valley), who like the Russian man, carries the same speculation in her sharp eyes, as she sees Jack manically making his way through Liverpool, visiting key landmarks like Eleanor Rigby’s grave, Strawberry Fields, Penny Lane etc because, as she says to him later, “you cant write songs about places you’ve never been to”. So anyway, this odd pairing make up the only 2 other known humans in the world who for unexplained reasons also remember the existence of The Beatles, and thus recognize that Jack’s positioning of the entire Beatles discography as his own original work to be fraudulent.

So we as audiences who hardly care for this dumbass Jack but have still held on to some hope that the film would bring us some element of surprise and karma for this annoying fraud (whose singing voice by the way is literally the most forgettable ever), we would have loved nothing more than for Jack to face the sound of music (as Mother Mary comes to him). But instead of, I dunno, chopping his head off or outing him to the world, the mysterious duo thank him for bringing their much beloved Beatles songs back into the world, the whole who has forgotten them. They thank him for doing justice to the memory of the greatest band of all time, and together the duo and Jack dance and cheer in a side room minutes before Jack goes out to perform for the biggest crowd he’s ever played to. It’s just…  lame and not even a satisfying easy way out. Oh remember above when i said there was literally only about one scene of Jack smiling, this was it. And he only smiled because obviously he was relieved at not having his secret revealed to the world by these two..... ughhh WE DONT WANT TO SEE YOU HAPPY!! WE HATE U!!

Okay haha I shall end this as I do all my other ‘reviews’… by saying that I’m lazy already and cant really be bothered to continue but shall conclude by proclaiming that this film sucked… not in a remotely camp or quiet or interesting manner either. It was just boring and bad and of great disrespect to the music of The Beatles.

 -------------------

Omg I have just attempted to read some actual reviews of this film and some actually think it’s ‘charming’ and ‘surprisingly moving’ and that the leads have ‘chemistry’………….. that’s literally the fakest thing I’ve ever heard lol bye bye!

[kate13swift]

Taylor Swift: LoverFest

All I have to say is what a disappointment. I live in Canada and I’m a huge fan of swift and have been since she came out with Teardrops On My Guitar in 2006; I’ve been a Swiftie ever since. I’ve always relied on TicketMaster to buy all of my concert tickets, (despite their processing fee, facility charge and service fee they charge on every ticket) and liked the idea of #VerifiedFan ticket purchasing. During Taylor’s reputation era, I thought collecting all of the “Boosts” was a fun way of collecting points to increase yourself on the priority list when purchasing your tickets. I made sure I did everything I could to increase my chances and ended up scoring great floor seats when it came to reputation pre-sale. HOWEVER, LoverFest was completely different. I got my e-mail telling me I have “Preferred Priorty Access” and did everything I needed to score my spot in line, I joined the TicketMaster “waiting room” as soon as it opened, and waited until 4pm PT for tickets to start selling. Since I live in Canada, I planned a trip for my sister and I to fly to Los Angeles, go to LoverFest and stay for a few days - it would be the first trip with my sister and she happens to be a die-hard Swiftie as well. It was perfect! I calculated a budget for flights, AirBnB (accommodations), Uber/cab fare, food, shopping expenses and of course the tickets. I figured if we’re flying to a different country to see the one and only Swift, I wasn’t going to settle for nose-bleed seats, I wanted the best of the best. My sister and I were aiming for Pit-Access but would take as close as we could get, depending on where I stood in line for tickets. When tickets went on sale, I watched my screen count down from 2000+ people for almost a full hour before I was able to purchase mine. Pit seats were already gone, closest seats to the stage were row 26 at the top of the heart shape. Okay, whatever - still not bad. As I go to order, my screen is telling me to “sit tight, we are securing your verified tickets” and just showing a loading icon. The whole TicketMaster website was extremely slow, which I can understand judging by how many people were buying tickets, but seriously? Next thing you know, I get booted off my loading screen and I’m back to the Ticket Master home page. At this point I’m LIVID and crying. I go back to wait in line .. AGAIN, by this time all of the floor seats are gone. I called my sister in tears because we lost the tickets that TicketMaster were supposed to be “securing” for me. I’m just so disappointed. So now we’re not going. I go online and I see all of these happy Swifties excited for LoverFest and I wish I could join that excitement, but instead I’m sad and angry. I probably sound ungrateful or whatever but I just cannot bring myself to spend all that money to fly, stay in LA to be up in nose-bleed section and barely see Taylor. I’m 28 years old with a full time job in the medical field. I cannot justify going to that extreme, spending all that money if I get mediocre seats, you know? It was a “go big or go home” idea for me and now I guess I’m staying home. I really wish that TicketMaster’s website was more reliable and wasn’t so glitchy, otherwise I would have been another happy & excited Swiftie, but today I’m not, just disappointed. 😢😭

@taylorswift @taylornation

[tikibuns]

A little thing for my dear @mollyspersonallypersonalblog based on our RP that came about because I promoted my Hamilton RP blog on my Senbasa RP blog by hosting Alex for a bit by throwing him through a time warp.

I can only hope I did Hazel justice!

For the record, they’re speaking Japanese. Anything in English is italicized.

-----

“What do you know? There’s a letter from Hazel mixed in here.” Masamune hadn’t noticed it at first. Combined with the other good tidings from his people back in Sendai, he almost missed it. He unrolled it and looked it over, his expression souring. “Damn it...” It was written in English, and though Masamune could read it at its most basic, he knew that when Hazel wrote, she took to using colorful language. He wasn’t yet well-versed in the nuances, so he needed assistance.

Thankfully, as though he were a saving grace, Alexander was nearby. Masamune had taken him on board because he was also a foreigner much like Hazel, but he seemed like he was from another place entirely. All things western fascinated the dragon, so he’d been more than happy to accept them into his ranks. It was more handy having one by his side on the battlefield. He knew how to fight, and he was useful when it came to supplies. He was also a fast learner, having already grasped enough language to communicate amongst them.

Masamune couldn’t have asked for a better addition to his army even if that addition had a few bizarre quirks. So far, he had noticed that Alexander talked to himself quite a bit. He also got caught up in his excitement to the point where he seemed to forget what he’d been doing beforehand. There was something about him that screamed “desperate to make a difference”, and though Masamune could admire it, he’d rather not have him go get himself killed when he had so many uses. Besides, he was younger. The dragon didn’t want that on his conscience.

“Hey, Freedom Boy! We got a letter over here I need your help with!” He called out, attracting the other’s attention from the conversation he was having with Tsunamoto and the rest of the boys.

Without hesitating, Alexander left them, eager as usual. “A letter? What kind?”

“It’s from Hazel.” Masamune sat down, bidding the other to do the same, and produced the letter. “The problem is I’m still a beginner, so I don’t know a lot of what she’s saying...I thought you’d want to take a stab at it.”

Alexander carefully unfurled the letter and looked over it. He could see how it might be a challenge for Masamune. It was impressive almost how wonderfully it had been written, and he couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his heart. He himself was a writer, so when he read something like this, it awoke that part of him.

“If you like, I can read it to you and help you understand the parts you don’t understand.” Alexander chose his words carefully. He still had a basic grasp on the language, so he couldn’t say exactly what he wanted. A lot of his speech sounded much like a child to native speakers’ ears, and he had a distinct accent. He could tell it how hard it was for them to understand him sometimes, so he practiced as often as he could in order to get better at it.

The dragon thought it over for a minute and nodded. He’d accept the help, especially if it helped him grasp English better. He wanted to be fluent in it and understand the phrases that made both of his foreign wards’ hearts flutter. “All right. Let’s do this, then.”

Looking back to the letter, Alexander started to read it aloud. “Lord Masamune, I thought that I would update you on the affairs here at home in the castle as you requested. The floors are spotless, and the crops are prospering. (Please remember to tell Master Katakura that his plants are doing well.)”

“Okay. Hold up.” Masamune lifted up his hand and leaned over the makeshift table. “The bit before. Is this “spotless” supposed to mean clean?”

“It is. She also reminds you to tell Katakura about his garden.”

“Right, right. What next?”

Alexander continued, a distinct smile on his face. “A few of the people from the village wanted me to tell you that they are praying for your safe return. It is fascinating, learning about your culture and traditions.” He noticed that Masamune had moved closer, presumably trying to read over his shoulder. He laid it down on the table so he could see it easier. “Is that better?”

The lord nodded, so Alexander took the opportunity to keep going. “There have been no changes in finances, but a few requests for assistance have come in. I have laid them out in a separate document that will be easier to read.” He noticed the confusion and translated. “She wrote another letter for you to read about your requests.” Again, he went back. “If I may be unprofessional for a moment, I would like to add that we all hope for your safe return, my lord. Remember to listen to Master Katakura’s guidance, and keep in mind that there are people who need you to continue living.” It felt right to pause and make sure that Masamune understood. So far, it seemed like he had a grasp on it.

At last, he came to the end. “The Land of the Rising Sun is counting on you to be victorious and bring it to peace and prosperity. Good luck, and stay safe. Yours, Hazel.” There was more on the page, but it wasn’t relevant to tell Masamune of it. It was addressed to Alexander, making sure that he was doing well and helping their lord to the best of his abilities. He appreciated her taking the time to direct something to him as well.

“That sounds about right.” Masamune mused. “I guess...maybe we should answer?” He’d need help with that as well, so without a word, Alexander practically flew off to get what he needed.

When he came back, he sat and looked attentively toward Masamune, who seemed impressed. “I’ll do all of the writing. Just tell me what to write.”

Masamune thought for a moment and started. “Tell her that we’re doing well and where we are. Also tell her thanks. That’s about it, really...” He wasn’t good at writing letters. He never knew what to say.

“Fair enough...” Alexander didn’t think that was sufficient, but he wasn’t the lord. “I’ll add a few things if that’s all right with you.” He didn’t want Hazel to think that they were ungrateful. Besides, she deserved a bit more than the typical.

In the end, he read it aloud to Masamune in case he wanted any changes.

“Dearest Hazel,

We have made it halfway to our destination, just outside Oshu’s border near Dewa. Our lord is eager as usual. He insists that I tell you that he is going to remind these troublemakers who owns the land that they continuously trespass upon. Master Katakura will be pleased to know about his garden. 

The rest of the family is rowdy as ever. They cannot wait to “party” as our lord says. The atmosphere in the field here is much different than I expected, full of energy and excitement. I feel as though it reflects well on our soldiers and what we can accomplish.

Our lord thanks you for constantly sending him information about his home while he is away. I also appreciate your efforts to both teach him and entertain myself with your writing.

Best of wishes to you as well.

Yours,

A. Hamilton”

[somedaypast-thesunset]

i feel neutrally tired about all of this. you know, i’m not angry or sad or stressed, i’m just kind of tired of this whole routine. it’s become glaringly obvious that this man is very very spoiled and ungrateful. 

yesterday was a fine day. he took me to the farm to get a pumpkin like i asked. he bought me food and was overall really nice and in a good mood - he was focused on pei and the things he would do or need for his trip. i felt comfortable and relaxed despite not even having weed and not having much sleep. 

this morning when we woke up, we had sex and i went about my morning - made a tea, had a smoke and he had a shower. he asked his mother for the survey plans for their cottage in pei so he knew what to prepare for when he wanted to build this garage (the whole 6 month master plan’s goal). she said she would have to look. this set off a chain reaction - he went to look for a crock pot the family owned but he had never used ad couldnt find it immediately, when his mother offered cookig advice he freaked out ad then when she asked him about a few set of chores he was supposed to do, he freaked out again.

at this point i had literally spoken no words from when we had sex. i was just passively floatig throughout the house, gathering my things just to be organized. i went to look at what he was actually making and he said something like “i’m going to drive you home after this i want to do my own thing and i dont want to be around you”. to be fair, he couldve said “people” - i’m ot entirely sure what i heard but it more likely sounded like you. i simply turned around, got my bag from downstairs, got my stuff from outside and walked home. i did not even reply or say goodbye - theres not even a point. like i would get either some argument about how he said he would drive me home or a grunt goodbye; both still equally rude replies. 

but i was kind of proud of how i reacted very immediately and without hesistation. i didt think like ~what would he want or ~whats appropriate to do. i just did what i wanted to do which was leave. it wasnt like oh i think id like to sped the day alone, do you wat a ride home - it was just ‘fuck off’ without being ‘fuck off’. and i don’t deserve that. 

on top of this, during sex he asked outright if anyone else has touched me. not like ~oh no one else ca touch you or ~would you let anyone touch you - just outright ‘have you let anyone’ and its not a light thing. its not joking. if i said yes it would hurt and we’d probably stop. but the parameters he stil puts forth is that he “cant” cheat. but what about me? and why am i used like this? i literally spoke _no words_. 

its very unhealthy. and i dont believe its about me. i’m glad ive come so far in personal relationships that i am able to seperate myself from them and not take things personally.and like i do feel “used” but its not like this is the absolute worst part of it. he said to me, “you havent been around long enough - this is what i do, im excited about something until im not and then i drop everything and go to the next thing” -- as if i havet been witnessing this the entire time weve been together. its all one exciting thing to the next and nothig is ever what its hoped to be. 

and hes very negative. which i guess is a bit ironic coming from me. but everything - everything sucks. and like to its greatest pit of whatever terrible thing it could have. you know - “king of the losers”. acknowledging that “i’m” okay but its really just being on top of a pile of shit. 

its just.. its getting too hard to remain optimistic about a future with him. whatever my life is doesnt affect him nearly as much as his does me. my whole life is built around being available to him and i was okay with this becuse it was like “investing” in a future i wanted to have. or i do want to have. i want a partner. some “family”. but i just dont feel optimistic like this is going to lead to idyllic happiness. not the way he sees it. and why should i spend my time following such a volatile perso who is unable to commit to anything. i guess it was easy to walk away because i thought like - what if i was across the country? what if i coulnt just walk away from this rude person and i was _stuck_? i dont want that and i guess if i dont want that, i dont want him. i’m just... too scared to live with him. like i want to live with him. i reall really do but everything in my being says omg no. no no no no. anyone i told that this was a thing would tell me absolutely do not move across the country with this person. its not like.. dont change. dont live somewhere else. its that this particular person is very ... not the right person to do this with. maybe i need to be a ifferent person too. maybe i need to be a very strong indpendent individual who works super hard and hustles lots of cash an then its all just fun and games and wooo life. but i cannot be dependent on this person. they are not dependable in any way shape or form. they are a fucking prayer. and in order for me to make such huge changes in life i would be very dependent on this person. especially right now. maybe in two years ill be a better version of me but the me right now would need a lot of hand holding an encouragement to make such drastic life changes and decisions. 

if it was plausible to just get a nice apartment in this city together - great. thank you. not even long term, lets just exist with each other before making giant life decisions. thats a marriage. with no commitment. i cant. i just cant. 

and you know - i’m very sympathetic. i know exactly what it feels like. to have no fucking clue what you want, where to go, what to do, who to be friends with, who to have a relationship with - i get it. i’m really confused too. and this is such a shitty time - i dont know if other times have been more shitty but this seems like a pretty shitty time after society going through so many wars in the past 100 years that have grown more powerful under the advancements and like we, collectively, are different people from 50 years ago so what was “right” and “good” 50 years ago is not relevant to today and we are floating without guidance. how do we survive now? weve evolved to a different mental state and we dont know how to nourish this. its like falling into great advancements with no mental capacity to understand their affect on the social psyche. 

theyre right.  the colective “they” - your parents have little to do with your chances. their social standing and coping amongst evolution to bring them to such standing has a lot more to do with your chances but if along the line you figure out your way of coping in evolution then you may rise above or find your own level of “happiness” which is mostly fulfilling basic personal needs. but when evolution continually transitions through different ways to fulfill these basic needs or possibly gives you even more ways to do this, it becomes more difficult to realize how you will find your way to cope in evolution. milennials are realy seen as weak and a joke; like re-branded hippies but focused on mental health and emotions, “refusing” employment to ‘feel better’ in life when there was a time when people just took any job because the only way to cope within that evolution was to exhance your service for money or boarding itself. thats not the case anymore. society evolved in such a way that this generation is capable of fulfilling may basic personal needs sometimes by just existing; perhaps their parents pay for food and shelter and provide them with clothing well into their “adult” years. many older generations started working to SURVIVE at 12 - 14 years old. our generation worked because “thats what you do” or to save up for an iphone. most of our grandparents worked to buy bottles of milk or to help the family or for their own vehicle but why save for one when your parents let you drive theirs anyways?

and again - it’s not the parents fault. it’s now easy in society for parents to do this. a large majority of parents, nd the majority leads the collective society. could my parents? no. but a lot of people around me did have parents that did this and my parents cared for me in other ways. society allowed them to breed children who would become introspective because they were no longer in such dire straits for survival. and older generations are upset about this - dont you know they had to want to die regularly to survive? why shouldt we? 

so as we gain this introspective into ourselves and “new” psychological ideas come up and vast people are “diagnosed”, it becomes harder to accept things which harm our psyche. so we get a big rise in racial inequality and gay rights and things which seem “liberal” but is simply termed this way because some people - maybe a large amount even, could not refuse employment and worked to survive even in this era. that was the generational hand down - exchange your service for money or starve. and theyre not “in the wrong”. other things affect how you build your coping tools - where you live, the climate of politics etc. maybe you realy just had to do that and there wasnt time to invest in this modern evolution of introspection. you dont have time to look within when youre starving on the outside. so this resentmet and bitterness builds between these two sides which may even exist in the same generation but neither of them is wrong. should one work to survive? probably. animals hunt most of their lives. we should probably work to survive. no one can just be handed food ad shelter forever unless you’re a very unique and special person in royalty. and 99.9% of us are not. but should we also kill our psyche? animals dont deal with smart phones and insurance rates and credit scores and bankruptcy. they just go out and take what they want and our society has evolved past this. so we cannot just assume you just work to survive when survival has been complicated. it takes a higher level of thinking which wemay not fully even comprehend at this stage in the evolution. 

i think psychology is very important because we dont understand why people are people. we dont know. we know why the sky is blue but we dont know why we are people. and not just psychology but science and the belief of how our being, our physical being on this planet came to be. we collectively have not agreed despite the very obvious misgivings of current theological theories. 

how or in what way should you survive on this planet? why are we required to exist as we are in this society upon birth. like all of these rules and obligations an responsibilities of being a “good human” are placed on you for the rest of your life and all you did was be born. all you want are basic needs fulfilled but you cant even do that until you acknowledge the land you were popped out on to does not belong to you so you abide by these rules now whether you want to or not. and thats just government and law but on this deeper spectrum its an obligation to be a ‘good child’ a ‘good citizen’ - pay your taxes, go to work, have children, buy a house; these are the quest objectives. but why? i think our generation is not the first to ask why but the first in a very long long time to ask why are we doing it this way. not so much why are we here. many of us have decided for ourselves. but why are we livingin society in this particular way and what can we do to survive in a society which is not designed to really benefit anyone. its not about that homeless man geting up and feeding himself, its about taking responsibility to feed that person. animals do a better job at this and we feel we’re in evolved thinking. 

society has become very convoluted and confused which has bred confusion in its most recent generation. ive lived a very unique life and yet feel the same way abou these things as my peers because the “temperature” of the environment is the same. its hot, we all know its hot an we’re trying to figure out ways to deal whether its running through a sprinkler, going to a public pool or looking ridiculous in a kiddie pool on your front lawn. it’s gross, it’s not a good time, no one wants to do anything and we’re not feeling it. and this evolution is like climate change. there is absolutely still people capable of coping under this stress, farmers still work, lumberjack still cut wood but theyre fucking miserable and they do it because theyre used to feeling like they want to die to survive. but its getting hotter and its getting harder and even though they feel it the only thing they know is to keep working until they cant anymore then die crippled and miserable. being popped out inexperienced and then thrown into a change which even the experienced are struggling with creates a lot of unrest. a lot of anxious and depressed people. 

what do we do? what should we do? you cant change society you can only follow the ebb and flow like flock of birds or schools of fish. this is how we cope as humans, to live as a society. and if society is in upheaval it directly affects the ability to easily obtain our basic needs. 

i used to feel envious of stupid people. like atleast they didnt ~know this shit. because this felt depressing. like being stupi would be easier and id be happier but those who choose to remain ignorant or passive hurt a lot and they struggle through some of the barest traps society has created durig this shitty time and now i feel sorry for them. spinning your wheels over and over, dragging yourself through the mud, throwing away money, living extravagantly and ignorantly but going absolutely no where. not going up, down, side ways - no where. i’m there too. i’m right there too on the train stopped at the station waiting to fucking go and we’re here nd we’re buying shit from the dining car and we’re chatting and excited but we’re not goig and we’re not really sure why and we’re all talking about why we’re not going but we’re still not going but hey atleast hey still got cookies. 

no one person is driving the train either. its like a group effort where everyone on the train has to believe youre moving forward for it to start but if one jack ass thinks youre not, then its a complete halt. 

life is hard but i dont think alot of people realize exactly how hard it is. im trying to learn to appreciate the little things. people with greater minds who had better understanding and less luxuries of the era coped with appreciating little things. taking bike rides in the fall in the nice downtown streets; it’s been a highlight of the season. painting in a studio this week; sure it was not glamorous or anything but i actively went out and created art with others. my room is neat and clean and organized. i did laundry with ease on my own time for free. 

i wasnt upset i “had to” walk home. i apreciated the fall weather & buzz of halloween approaching, time to think without screens of distraction, exersize and activity, the ability to buy cat food & cat litter. im not angry about it. i’m tired of being angry about a train im not really driving. if i can never truly conceptualize what i want because of society why keep trying. why cry over spilled milk. 

[pinklily7749]

Feelings of negativity

As I am sitting here, I am just sitting here finding ways of how I could write down my unhappiness in a way that doesn’t sound like a crazy teenager (I am not a teenager!) or a girl with crazy hormones (um, this one is up for discussion). Outside my room, I can hear my parents arguing, not with each other but with a sibling. I can’t help but feel my negativity inside me rising.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Sometimes while writing a post, I sit there and feel paralysed and if I can get a few sentences out (great) but then end up deleting the writing because it had led to no particular conclusion.

I feel exasperated at some events in my life. Unlike others, (because I work part-time at a professional job) I have the time to think about my thoughts and be able to take the time out for myself. But I admit that sometimes I wished a full time job so that I wouldn’t have to think so much.

It’s true that most of my negative feelings at this moment in time come from my parents disapproval of me with certain things that I do in my life. Yes I am almost twenty-four years old, still live at home and am complaining about it.

But before I get into the reason why I am feeling negative, let me put out a few disclaimers.

I will try to not argue like a teenager

I will try to not sound ungrateful about the sacrifices my parents had to make to bring me up

I feel like at this moment in time, I feel like I am too young to do some things and too old to do other things. I am staying at home until I save up enough money to put a deposit on a house but I just really dislike staying in this house at the moment. I don’t feel happy at home anymore. I need my own space. I had considered moving out. I haven’t actually told anyone because by the time I saw them, I had come to a conclusion that I shouldn’t move out. It was actually recommended by my boyfriend’s parents to be civil and happy with my parents. My boyfriend’s parents said they would happily provide a roof over my head if I decided to move out but they told me that knowing me, I would feel so much happier in my own home. They are right and I hope that I am taking the right path.

Every time, I remind myself that I am unhappy at home, I end up crawling into a ball and  start crying (cue ready to act for a drama movie). I cannot find the energy or bravery to talk about my problems to other people because I cry so easily. I never knew I would be the child who can’t deal with living with their parents. To give you a bit of context, I grew up in school being a non-rebellious child out of all my friends. that I don’t think they can imagine me in such life circumstances where I get into constant fights with my parents and want to live independently.

Reading some spirituality books have saved me emotionally though. It wasn’t because of fights with my parents where I began reading spirituality books, but reading these spirituality books does help come to terms with trying to live in the present. I have always known that The Power of Me was a good book and at the beginning of this year got my hands on it. It had definitely changed my outlook on life but it is one of those books that I could read again to continue to reinforce and remember the ideas and add the principles to my life. In a recent book sale, I also picked up A New Earth (by the same author as The Power of Me) and am reading it now. I feel that no matter what words I use to describe this book, I don’t think I can do the book justice so if you’re needing inspiration and positivity in your life, pick up this book and give it a read. At the book sale, I also picked up The Law of Attraction. I haven’t read that book yet but I am equally excited to read that book after I finish with A New Earth.

I can’t help but feel like I’m stuck in a negative loop as I go in and out of positivity and negativity. Whilst reading spiritual books, I get the concepts behind them but once I go back to my life and think of all the negativity that has made me the person I am today. I realise that the negativity is still there and can’t help but keep feeling negative as I let out a long sigh wherever I am (whether it is on a bus or train or park or in my bedroom). These books strongly encourage me to live in the present, but I can’t help but sometimes look back in life. I am not going to lie about this so I am still trying to work through this part in my life.

I guess this post really isn’t a great way to boost someone’s happiness, but it is just a record to write down my feelings and my attempt at trying to formulate and write down some things I have been feeling lately. Does that count as a conclusion? Yes, but it is a very weak one.

Until next time.