Well, this is my first post, I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed making it 🫠
Given how things are going in JJK Module, I wanted to be happy by offering flowers to little Yūka 🤧💗 ... If you notice the colors and sizes of each flower, you'll see I wanted to include a little bit of Flower Psychology ☝️🤓✨
🤍 For Tsurugi, I thought of a flower that represented childhood, loyalty, purity and innocence, so a large daisy was my best choice.
💙 For Kurosu, I thought of three small flowers: Blue Jasmine/Plumbag (They represent serenity and hope), Blue Leadwort/Hardy Plumbag (They represent overcoming adversity, resilience, and determination) y Forget-me-not (They represent memory, remembrance, and melancholy).
💛 For Maru, I imagined an explosive bouquet, small daisies (they also represent confidence, freshness, and a new beginning) and sunflowers (represent positivity, warmth, strength, vitality and respect), smaller flowers that I show as reddish spots (They represent sincere admiration and affection).
Summary: Jasmine, an attractive friend of your mother’s, shows up at your house amidst a breakdown, though she has no idea how.
Warnings/Notes: None? Just another movie scene continuation, you know how it is
Word Count: 1730
Growing up with rich parents meant a lot of things; it meant parties full of people you didn’t know that lasted well into the night when you needed silence to study; it meant struggling to bond with others growing up because everything was a competition; and it meant being surrounded with your parents friends who were just as, if not more, shallow than they were.
Sure, it had its perks. A driver to take you places you needed. All sorts of food always ready to eat throughout the house. A wonderful balcony in your large bedroom. An en suite with a big tub…
When you went off to college, you left all of that behind. Your parents were more than willing to pay for everything but you wanted to make something out of yourself. And you did.
Nobody knew you because you had money. Nobody even really knew you had money. You made friendships through actual effort and common interests and for once you felt happy.
That’s what made coming home for two weeks hard.
Everything was exactly the same. Here, you were your parents' daughter, nothing more. And it was driving you up the walls. You just barely survived your welcome home party last night that was full of your parents' friends who cast you a smile and then acted as if you didn’t exist. You were exhausted and pissed off and ready to get out of here.
Luckily, your parents were gone for the day at some golf event. You had the house to yourself to finally relax and unwind after yesterday, and to prepare for the upcoming days.
You had just settled on the couch with a textbook and papers to study when there was a knock at the door. Maybe it was a delivery man? You waited. Nothing. And then… more knocking. Frantic this time.
With a groan you abandoned your papers and opened the door, ready to chew out whoever was there.
But you never got the chance to.
Standing there was one of your parents oldest friends: Jasmine. She had met your mother through her husband Hal and the two of them were rather inseparable. Well, they were as close as you could be when your relationships were well disguised attempts to one up the other.
You’d always had a bit of a soft spot for Jasmine. She lived just down the street and was over often growing up. She was beautiful and could be funny at times. Other times, she just looked lost. But you thought she deserved better.
You never liked Hal. It was no secret he was cheating on her, you were pretty sure the world knew.
Everyone except Jasmine did. Because all of her friends were too fake to tell her the truth.
But Jasmine was different today. Her usual styled hair was a curled mess. Whatever makeup she had on was now running down her face, carried by tears from her red eyes. And she was very sweaty as if she ran here. Her shoulders were shaking and she was practically heaving for air.
“Where… where am I?” Jasmine’s voice trembled as she stumbled into your house. She looked you up and down as if she didn’t recognize you, then grabbed the corner of the wall and pressed herself into it.
What the fuck?
You always thought there might be something off with Jasmine, but not this bad. Was she having a heart attack? Or maybe a psychotic breakdown? You didn’t want to call your parents but the phone was looking pretty appealing. Maybe you should call 911 instead.
“You’re uh… at my house?” You replied warily.
“How did I get to this place?” Jasmine muttered, sounding almost delirious. She was still holding onto the wall and trembling. “I… oh, god… Y/n?”
At least she recognized you. “Yes, it’s me.”
“No, no, it’s not. You’re… you’re away at college. Oh my god, I’m seeing things.” Jasmine grabbed her head and started shakily pacing. Her fingers raked through her hair so hard you were worried she was going to tear chunks out. “I don’t understand. Oh, what have I done? What…?”
Jasmine nearly knocked a vase over. You grabbed her arm and pulled her away from anything fragile. She squealed and fought back.
“I’m not going to hurt you! It’s me!” You exclaimed. “Y/n, remember? I came back from college. I’m real.”
Jasmine stared at you silently, cogs working in her mind. Slowly, she reached up and touched your cheek as if examining you. Her fingers were damp with sweat. She traced your cheekbone and then pressed her thumb to your chin.
And then, with a sob, she threw her arms around you and buried her face into your shoulder. “Oh, Y/n, it’s so awful! It’s…. It’s..” Her shoulders shook as her breath caught in her throat. She was hyperventilating.
The force of the hug nearly knocked you over but you caught yourself. You were startled, confused, and borderline frightened by whatever was going on. You’d never once seen Jasmine act like this, or touch you. The most she ever gave was awkwardly affectionate hair ruffles and that was a rare occasion. Now she was clinging to you and sobbing her heart out.
“Take a deep breath,” you murmured softly, slowly hugging her in return.
“I can’t breathe,” Jasmine whispered, choked.
“You can.” Rubbing her back up and down, your other hand rested on her shoulder. “In and out, slowly.”
Jasmine gasped for a breath. It took a few tries but she managed to get enough air into her lungs for one full cycle. And then another.
And then she slowly sank into you as if all of the strength had been taken out of her. Her sobs and gasps quieted down into soft whimpers.
“There, it’s alright now,” you sighed, giving her another squeeze. Then you slowly let her go and she stepped back. “What happened, Jasmine?”
“…I need to sit down,” Jasmine mumbled, swaying a little. She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “Do you have anything to drink? Alcohol? Please, I… oh, I can’t handle this…”
“Uhm, yeah. Sit down, I’ll get you something,” you walked her over to the couch. She sank into her usual spot and stared ahead blankly.
In the kitchen you grabbed a plastic cup, not trusting her with glass. You found one of your parents' vodka bottles and poured the tiniest bit into the cup, and then filled the rest with water. She wouldn’t notice anyway.
And she didn’t. She practically downed the drink the second you gave it to her. Then she laid her head back and covered her eyes.
“Did you know too?” Jasmine asked in a hoarse voice.
You sat down beside her. “Know what?”
“That my husband has been unfaithful to me with… with multiple women.” Jasmine’s voice cracked. You hesitated. That was enough and she let out a low moan.
“I mean… I sort of guessed,” you sighed. “I’m sorry, Jasmine.”
She laughed bitterly. “Everybody knew but me. Isn’t that awful? The whole world knew about my husband sleeping with every woman he could get his hands on, and I didn’t. I thought he loved me.”
So, that’s what happened. You slowly scooted closer, resting your hand on her knee. “You deserve better.”
Jasmine slowly looked at you. And then she smiled, some sort of empty, broken smile. “Oh, no,” she chuckled. “I’m no better than him.” Her smile faded. “You’re not going to believe what I’ve done.”
For a split second, the idea of Jasmine murdering Hal flashed in your mind. It would explain the state she was in, and you thought if she was pushed hard enough…
You winced a little and held your breath.
“I called the FBI.”
“Why would you do that?” You frowned. You were relieved, but puzzled. The FBI doesn’t arrest people for cheating.
Jasmine shook her head. “Hal is… not a good man. He’s taken money from so many people… Y/n, he’s been running illegal money businesses since before you were born.”
Oh.
“That makes sense, I guess.” You hesitated. “You called him in?”
“Mhm.” Jasmine looked proud of herself again. “That asshole is going to get what he deserves. I don’t know what, but I know he’s going to be in trouble.”
“Yes, he is.” You smiled faintly. “He deserves it.”
Jasmine nodded. She wiped her face, looking lost again. Her head lolled against the back of the couch and she closed her eyes. She was changing up on herself again. “Y/n… I don’t feel good.”
“No?”
“No…” she curled up. “I think… I think it’s the adrenaline or something. I think I blacked out earlier… I think. I get like that. I can’t breathe and I sweat and I get so hot… and then things go dark. I don’t know how I got here.”
“Okay.” You reached over and gently touched her shoulder. She was burning up a little. “Just try and relax, alright? I’ll take care of you.”
Jasmine nodded slowly. You got her some cold water to drink and then just sat with her for a bit, helping her calm down.
Eventually she looked over at you. “When are your parents coming home?”
“I don’t know, not for a while. Do you want me to call them?”
“No!” Jasmine exclaimed. Then she closed in on herself a little. “…I’m embarrassed. They can’t see me like this… you shouldn’t have…”
Of course. That’s what she was worried about. Or that’s what she was focusing on to ignore the real problem.
“Do you want to shower? I can grab you some clothes.” Why were you putting in so much effort for this woman? You probably shouldn’t. But you couldn’t help it.
For the first time ever, Jasmine looked genuinely touched. She slowly nodded. “…I would like that, please.”
“Alright.” You moved to stand but she grabbed your wrist.
“Wait.”
“Okay.”
Jasmine swallowed. Then she squeezed your wrist gently and moved closer to you. “Just… stay here for a minute. I can’t be alone. When I’m alone, my mind starts racing and I start talking to myself and I can’t breathe. And then—.”
“I’m staying.” You assured her gently. “I’m right here. You’re not alone.”
She smiled weakly, then leaned her head on your shoulder. “…I’m glad you’re real.”
Cate Blanchett was born on May 14, 1969, making her 56 years old today. The Australian born actress is recognized as one of the finest performers of her generation. She won a Best Supporting Actress Academy Award for her portrayal of actress Katharine Hepburn in The Aviator (2004), and she won a Best Actress Academy Award for her role in Woody Allen's film, Blue Jasmine (2013). In addition to her Oscars, she has received four British Academy Film Awards, four Golden Globe Awards and three Screen Actors Guild Awards.
