transcript of the speech i gave at Vassar’s black baccalaureate service
Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, honored guests, and the Vassar class of 2017.
Just saying that aloud made me feel old. Class of 2017? Most of y'all were born after dark-skinned Aunt Viv left the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. That’s wild.
I want to first thank you for allowing me to be a part of such a special moment in your lives. I am honored, privileged, and a bit in disbelief that you asked me of all people to give this address. I try not to have feelings, and I’m going to do my best not to cry today, but no promises.
I’m here to stand in the gap between you and your parents and guardians and any other elders in your lives that you stopped listening to because you thought they were wack and out of touch. I remember being in your shoes not TOO long ago, and it is my fervent prayer that something that I say here today will help you avoid some of the mess I went through.
To be honest I’m a little nervous, but I figured there was no way could this be worse than when Betsy DeVos went down to Bethune-Cookman, so let’s get started.
As you transition to life after Vassar the changes will be both inevitable and swift, so I’d like to begin by giving you some well-intentioned advice and warning you about the continued process of becoming an adult.
While watching Yuri on Ice I couldn’t quite
understand the vague sense of frustration I felt with some scenes where one
thing was being told and a different thing was being shown. You know, like when
Yuuri is all like “those are lucky charms blah blah” and the entire setting,
montage, frames, sound etc. just scream “PROPOSAL”. The same goes for the
airport scene, the kiss in ep 7 and some minor scenes too. It’s almost like the
visuals tell a slightly different story than words and actions of the
It seems like the writing is more focused on an
inner journey, a path to self discovery etc., while the settings, montage,
light, sound effects tell a romantic story - it all just bluntly screams “a
love story”. The usage of romance iconography (like running to meet the lover)
is clearly intentional and never a parody. They look like a couple. And yet we
all feel that need for more confirmation.
I couldn’t quite put it into words until now, but there
is indeed a curious gap between storytelling and directing here.
Disclaimer: I worked in a big-scale animation
production, it kinda changes the way you look at things. And you start seeing
that such a production is a result of many people having different ideas and
different attitudes towards the same material. And even when they work together,
they might end up telling different stories.
And that’s what I think is the case with YOI.
I think this gap between the raw story and its visual
storytelling actually subtly reflects the attitudes of Mitsuoru Kubo (writer)
and Sayo Yamamoto (director).
Kubo is very focused on characters’ inner
journey and leaves almost everything to viewer’s interpretation, driving us all
nuts with her vague answers. While Yamamoto apparently ships Victuuri
shamelessly and comes up with scenes like the airport reunion (bless that woman).
Kubo tells a brilliant story about struggling to
accept yourself, about getting over your failures, about struggling with (incredibly
well-portrayed) anxiety and finding strength to go on. Yamamoto on the other
hand literally does all that is humanly possible within directing boundaries
to tell a pure and sweet love story, on
top of all that is already there.
I’m not saying that Kubo didn’t write Victor’s
and Yuuri’s relationship as romantic.
What I’m saying that the one who tells the love
story is not Kubo. It’s the director and the animation team. They tell us the
love story. And if you can’t find what you are looking for in Kubo’s words,
please pay attention to the pictures.
After all, a picture is worth a thousand words. ;)
Gemini, Libra, Sagittarius, and Aquarius are all the best story tellers in my opinion
Gemini makes the story personal and uses dramatic motions and talks with their hands. They have such a captivating way with their words that makes you hang on to each one
Libra loves to tell stories, and they are usually personal or very funny things that have happened to them. They laugh at the right parts and make it so entertaining that you want to hear them talk forever
Sagittarius tells stories almost like a rant. They are enthusiastic and tell it with such emotion and power that it makes you feel like you were there
Aquarius stories are almost too good to be true. You question whether or not it actually happened, because their stories are usually so ridiculous and funny, and they tell it in the most interesting way
Wait For Me To Come Home - Sebastian x Reader - One Shot
A/N - Got myself into the little sebby family mood again. Featuring Isabella as always aha.
Sebastian x Reader - You are completely secure in your relationship with Sebastian, until you start reading some articles that make you doubt yourself. Sebastian gets rid of your insecurities by helping you relive some of your memories together.
Summary: the morning after, chapter 125. Mini fic/headcanon.
Again, another mini fic/headcanon! you can read the rest of my headcanons/mini fics here, I hope you guys enjoy this ♡ let’s cry together because this is real and canon :’)
His scars tell a story.
Touka reads it with her fingers, nails softly outlining the marks tracing the shape of his bare shoulder, fingertips floating just above his skin and her touch feels so tender, so ethereal… almost as if she wasn’t touching him at all. His wounds tell a story she has learned to memorize over the years, the story of a boy with a broken heart trying to find someone willing to mend it. She can find herself on his marks as well, fingers tracing the spot she had bitten many years ago, she can read their story on his skin just by touching him, she can remember, and feel, and love… it’s all there, right in front of her.
The morning sunlight feels like golden rain caressing his features, and her hand suddenly stops when it reaches his lips, softly parted and breathing life. Her fingertip caresses his lower lip, his chin, the rosy tone of his cheekbones… Touka can’t help but smile a little, heart fluttering furiously.
“Kaneki,” she whispers.
He stays the same, with his arm under her head and the other weekly wrapped around her waist, keeping her close to him. She smiles softly, head popping up on one hand as she leans closer to his face, lips brushing his cheeks.
“Kaneki,” she repeats, her breath tickling his skin.
His eyebrows frown a little, babbling.
“Wake up,” she mutters, spreading kisses across his face, ending at the corner of his lips.
He grimaces again, readjusting the grip of his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.
Touka sighs, going back to her old position and landing her gaze to the only window inside that building.
“Because,” she says, resting her head against his arm. “It’s already morning. We have to go back.”
He nods, lazily, but doesn’t make an attempt to get up or even open his eyes. He stays like that, breathing slowly, and Touka doesn’t think she has ever seen something as peaceful as this. Her hand reaches out to touch his hair, brushing it slightly, his lips drawing out a sluggish smile that makes her heart stop.
His eyes open drowsily, smiling at her, and Touka can’t help but smile back, her face burning and not because of the sun brightening the walls. Kaneki takes her hand, holding it against his cheek, letting out a deep sigh.
“Just one more minute.”
She lets him stay like this for a while until her back starts to sore and she has to sit on the floor, stretching her neck and arms, making a disgusted face. Damn floor. Her hands reach out for her shirt, undoing the buttons, and her eyes flicker when she feels Kaneki’s fingers touch her back, tracing a small pattern on her skin. So he is awake, after all. Touka takes a deep breath, trying to concentrate on what she’s doing, not being truly able to hold back the feelings that curse through her body whenever he touches her. Is it… always this way? Will it always be like this? Not that she complains, of course, but still—
“Don’t you feel uncomfortable?” she asks, putting her shirt on as she peers down at him, he has his eyes open. He’s staring at her back like she’s some kind of nude goddess. She tries to remain calm. “The floor isn’t particularly warm, you know.”
She adjusts her sleeves, leaving the shirt open, and suddenly Kaneki’s body raises from the ground. He settles by her side, yawning, and leans to rest his head against her legs in a fetal position.
“Now I’m fine,” he says, closing his eyes again. “But you are right. We should… uh, get a bed. N-Next time, I mean.”
He bites back a mischevious smile, cheeks burning brighter than the sun.
Touka stares at him in silence, she can’t breathe properly yet, probably she never will, but she smiles at knowing that she’s the only one who gets to see him this way. Smiling, sleepy, drowsily resting his head against her thighs to find warmth, wrapping an arm around her leg, desperate for the slightest of her touches.
The only one.
She’s the only one.
Touka’s hands dance through his hair, trembling softly, and she can spot a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips. They’re so close, so close, and there’s nothing around them that can tear her away from him. Not anymore, not unless she allows it. And she won’t. Not now, not ever.
The fact that he isn’t looking at her makes the whole situation less embarrassing. It makes her brave, somehow, to ask.
“Was that—“ she begins, a bit unsure. “Was that your first kiss?”
He sighs in response, eyes still closed.
“No. I’ve been practicing on random strangers for a while now,” he grins, wild hair spread all across her legs, lips smiling at the stupid joke. “Yes. That was my first kiss.”
Her heart pounds, sending shivers down her spine.
“Mine too,” her voice comes lower than usual, almost as if she’s speaking to herself, but Kaneki is not deaf to her words anymore, and he listens, every single one of them.
He smiles softly. He’s been smiling since he woke up and she suspects he will keep doing it for a while. His hand takes hers, their fingers intertwine, he keeps pretending a fake sleep and Touka allows him to stay this way a bit more, Touka and Kaneki are silent for a long while, listening to the wind, feeling their throbbing hearts through the connection of their fingers, feeling each other even with their eyes closed.
It’s not that their bodies are naked or that he’s resting against her legs, but the moment is filled with an intimacy that Touka knows she has never shared with Kaneki before. She keeps stroking his hair, fingers humming a soft lullaby against his skin. He’s awake, he’s alive between her arms, he’s alive when she leans her lips against his and brushes them slightly, when her hands rest against his chest, burning his skin; he’s alive when he sits up, staring at her mesmerizing beauty, her shirt open and poorly covering her nudity, the fabric sliding off her shoulder, exposing her collarbone and everything else that he considers being more than perfect. He holds his breath, unable to breathe, his hand reaches out to her messy morning hair, making it look even crazier. She giggles, trying to stop him, but he leans against her lips and Touka feels like this kiss will last forever.
She lets him, even if they are in a hurry and they should probably be leaving this building by now… Touka lets him, closing her eyes, offering him all that she has, all that she is. Kaneki kisses her, not caring about time or anything else as his lips travel down her neck, hands getting rid of her shirt.
Touka sighs, arms enveloping his neck once more, her heart allowing him to do whatever the hell he wants with her.
The Colin Mochrie story? Gladly. This is a good story.
So I go to this college, and it can best be described as a little weird. It desperately wants to be Cambridge, but it’s not Cambridge, so it takes out its frustration with not being Cambridge on weird collective mockeries of Cambridge stuff. So far so good.
One of these weird mockeries is the debate club.
It’s hard to even properly call the Literary Institute a debate club - it is a club, and it does debates, but the debates are 100% stand-up comedy in a parliamentary format and the other half is bullshit pantomiming. For instance, every year at matriculation, the club drunkenly rushes the stage, interrupts the ceremony, and calls everyone in the audience a horse’s ass (occasionally while quoting Dune). It also puts on a yearly event called ‘Tuck-Ins’, in which people in the dorms can sign up (or sign their friends up) to have the entire LIT burst into their room, give them bedtime snacks, give them bedtime beer, sing some bedtime songs, and tell them a bedtime story. Except, the LIT never does anything seriously, so the bedtime song was always Barrett’s Privateers and the bedtime story was almost always something we called ‘The Rat Story’. Let me tell you about the Rat Story.
The Rat Story was a piece of… literature… that a LIT member dragged out of the dregs of the internet many years ago. Nobody knows where it came from, and my efforts to find it again were unsuccessful, but good lord, it was bad. It was a page-and-a-half-long Hermione/Wormtail (rat form) smut fic and it was awful.So awful. I’m cringing just thinking about it. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever read, and at this point I basically know it by heart. We read it aloud, from the poorly worded introduction to its horrible closing line (AND HE SCAMPERED AWAY WET! STUNNED! AND THRILLED!) dozens of times in a single night to unsuspecting students. It was an experience.
Now you might be wondering how Colin Mochrie fits into this.
So, one of the other things my college does powerfully and often is pretension. We are the most pretentious college you will ever see, and our college clubs are proof positive of this. Every year, various college clubs send out dozens of official-sounding letters inviting our various favourite well-known-people to attend our meagre college events (I, as president of the James Bond Society, personally invited Barack Obama, Sean Connery, and the Queen to our AGM). However, this year the Comedy Club was riding particularly high, and it sent out quasi-sincere invitations to speak to a variety of Canadian comedians.
And Colin Mochrie showed up, one fateful Tuck-Ins night.
He gave a talk, which was very good, but noticed as the talk finished that many students were rushing away to something in an awful hurry. We explained that it was the night of Tuck Ins, an important and sacred college tradition and that
We would be delighted if he would join us.
And that, my friends, is the story of how I found myself crammed in a dorm room with 20 other people, listening to Colin Mochrie describe Peter Pettigrew’s rat boner to a couple of second years who had no idea what they were getting into.
He watched the door slam shut behind you and he turned to the wall. “Fuck!” Jax yelled and clenched his fist. He pounded it against the wall, over and over. The white paint slowly turned red as his knuckles bled but he didn’t stop, not yet. After a few more hits Jax stepped back and ran his hand through his hair, brushing it out of his face with his good hand. He stretched out his fist but ignored the burning pain in his knuckles and he glared at the bloodied hole in the wall. He knew he should have ran after you, tried to make you see sense. But he had never seen you so mad before and he knew he deserved it. Honesty. Respect. That was all you ever asked for. You didn’t care about the things he did for the club, the club secrets he had to keep from you. You didn’t care that he barely took you on dates. You didn’t care that he had a son to another woman. You didn’t care that he was a criminal, an outlaw. You didn’t care about the late nights or the lonely ones. You didn’t ask him to stay home with you, didn’t nag him or need to know every detail about his days or things with the club. All you had ever asked of him was that when it came to your relationship, he was honest with you. And he hadn’t been. Jax knew he should have told you Tara was back the day she had turned up at the clubhouse. But his head had been a mess and he needed time to work out what this all meant. It was like a ghost had walked back into his life. He never thought he’d see her again after she left and when she’d walked through those doors he felt like a teenager again, and all those feelings he had once had came flooding back to him. He should have told you what happened, how he was feeling, but hell he didn’t even know how he felt. Jax leant against the wall and stared at the shattered glass and splatters of whiskey on the floor. The kitchen was a mess and it seemed fitting to mess inside his head. He needed to make sense of these feelings, of these thoughts that were taking control. He needed to leave, needed to get out of this empty house. He turned and walked out the door, heading for his bike. A long ride was what he needed to clear his head. ~ Laughter left your lips and you wiped the counter thoroughly. “I’m serious! He turned up in a denim suit. A juit.” Cassie said. You laughed again and shook your head. For a month now you had been working with Cassie at the diner and almost everyday she had a new story to tell you about her disastrous love life and the many bad dates she’d had that left a smile on your face. The bell above the door chimed and you glanced at the entrance. Three men entered, all in leather and all ridiculously attractive. You watched them walk casually into the diner and slide into a booth by the window, near the back. “Hellooo handsome.” Cassie said beneath her breath and you smiled and winked at her. “Shotgun.” You said and grabbed a notebook and slid it into your apron pocket. Before she could argue you stepped out from behind the counter and approached the table. There was a tall one, wearing a slouched beanie and a full beard. A younger looking guy, with a shaved Mohawk and tribal tattooes on his skull. And a blonde, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. “Welcome to Daisy’s Diner, what can I get for you this mornin?” The guys glanced up at your approach and you smiled warmly to each of them. “Just coffee, thanks.” The one with the beard smiled. You nodded. “Anything else? The cherry pies real nice.” “I bet it is.” The blonde said with a wink and a smirk and you tried to ignore his eyes looking you up and down. You smirked back and met his eye. “I’ll grab a slice.” He said. You scribbled the order in your notebook. “Won’t be long.” You smiled sweetly, making sure to flutter your eyelashes and headed back to the counter. You could feel their eyes watching you as you walked and you made sure to sway your hips a little more than normal. “Thoughts?” Cassie whispered once you were behind the counter. “The one in the beanie’s married. No rings on the other two though.” You reported. She nodded and bit her lip. “I call dibs on the Mohawk.” You laughed and quickly got the order ready. A phone rang out and you glanced at the table and saw the blonde answer a call. You grabbed the pot of coffee and the plate of pie and headed towards the table. When you were almost there the three men stood and the blonde turned towards you. “We gotta go, sorry darlin’.” “Sorry for wasting my pie or for staring at my ass earlier?” You asked. He raised his eye brows and smirked. “Oh I ain’t sorry for that darlin.“ You laughed and he flashed you a wink before turning and following the others out of the diner. ~ The sound of birds chirping woke him and he squinted at the bright sun shining down on him. For a moment he was confused at his surroundings but they slowly familiarised around him. Jax always ended up here when times were tough, or when he needed to clear his head. Some people found cemeteries eerie, creepy and uncomfortable. But Jax found them peaceful, and he seeked comfort sitting in front of his fathers grave. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, wincing at the pain that tore through his fist. Slowly he stood and stretched his body, already aching from sleeping on the hard ground. Jax walked slowly to the garden tap that he’d used to wash his face many times before. After freshening up Jax headed for his bike. He had left his phone at home last night and so he had no idea what the time was. As he walked to his bike he contemplated whether or not he should head home. You would be there and he knew you’d still be mad, and with every right. He knew he needed to face you, to explain himself. But he needed to freshen up first. Jax swung his leg over his bike and brought it to life. He would go to the clubhouse, freshen up in the dorms and head home. Hell he might even buy some flowers on the way. ~ “Same again?” “Please,” You smiled at the bartender. He smiled back and turned to get your drinks ready. Cassie had managed to convince you to come out with her and she had dragged you to one of the local bars. Sitting next to her, you were like chalk and cheese. She sat with her perfectly straightened hair, perfectly applied make up, tight red dress and six inch heels. And then, there was you. Ripped black jeans, combat boots, Guns ‘n’ Roses tshirt and your hair pulled into a rough high ponytail. The only make up you wore was a perfect flick of black eyeliner on your upper lid. But somehow the two of you got on like a house on fire, despite the differences in your personalities. The bartender passed you your drink and you thanked him before taking a sip. You were putting the glass back on the bar when you felt a presence next to you and you turned towards the newcomer. “Hey cherry pie.” You smirked at the blonde biker, instantly recognising him from the other day in the diner. “Hey stranger.” You purred. “Hey I’m Cassie.” Your friend interrupted. He glanced at her and smiled before introducing himself as Jax and introducing his friend, ‘Juice’. You chatted for a while, well flirted mostly, before Cassie dragged you away to dance. Almost an hour had passed and you knew they were watching when you heard a new song start. The music was familiar to you and you laughed and turned towards the bar, where a smirking Jax watched with a playful hint in his eyes. “She’s my cherry pie, cool drink of water such a sweet surprise.” The song played, Warrants ‘Cherry Pie.’ Jax raised his eyebrow, challenging you. You don’t know what came over you but you flashed him a wink before stepping on a stool and climbing on top of the closest table. And from across the bar, Jax watched as you swung your hair and swayed your hips to the music. His eyes were focused on you and with each move you made, the rest of the world fell away. ~ Jax pulled into the lot and parked in his usual spot along the row of bikes. The garage was still shut and he frowned slightly. Perhaps it was earlier in the day than he had first thought. He hopped off his bike and placed his helmet on the handlebars before heading towards the clubhouse entrance. He had only taken a few steps when the doors flew open and Gemma and Chibs came running out. “Where have you been?!” Gemma demanded. Jax ran his hand through his hair as he walked closer. After the night he’d had, the last thing he needed was a lecture from his mother. “Look, mom-“ “Dont worry about it, Jackie boy. Theres been an accident.” Chibs interrupted. Jax froze and glanced between them, his face filling with concern. “Its (y/n), Jax.” His heart dropped. “Is she..?” His words fell off, unable to bring himself to finish the question. “Shes in intensive care.” Jax nodded and stepped backwards before he turned and headed for his bike. Gemma and Chibs called after him but he ignored their voices. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, and no matter how hard he tried his legs couldn’t carry him any faster. His body went into auto-pilot and he yanked on his helmet, the bike roaring to life beneath him while his mind raced. Gemma and Chibs moved past him in a blur as he pulled the bike out of his spot and sped out of the lot. He didn’t bother looking for cars, didn’t bother stopping at the red lights. He didn’t bother with the speed limit as he weaved his bike in between the oncoming cars. All he knew was that you needed him. Eventually he stopped in front of the hospital and he stopped his bike and leapt off it, letting his helmet drop to the pavement beside him. Jax ran up the steps, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest. The woman behind the desk glanced up as he ran through the doors. “(y/n) (y/l/n), where is she?!” ~ You always hummed when you cooked and this morning was no exception. Jax leant against the doorway, a smile on his face as he watched you work. You rummaged in the drawer for a whisk before whipping the batter in the bowl. “Whats cooking good lookin?” You turned and saw Jax watching you and laughed lightly. “Pancakes.” You smiled. He grinned and walked into the kitchen and took you by the waist. He laid his chin on your shoulder and watched you whisk the mixture. “With blueberries?” He asked. “And bacon.” You answered. “God I love you.” You laughed and moved his hands from his waist. “Sit down, it wont be long.” He obeyed and took a seat at the table. He could get used to this, waking up to you cooking in the kitchen, naked beneath his SAMCRO shirt and your hair hanging loosely. It was a sight he could never get sick of. You quickly got the breakfast together and plated before carrying it to the table. Jax let out a whistle as you placed the dish in front of him and you smiled before taking your seat. You both ate in contempt silence, enjoying each others company. After eating You cleared the table and Jax had a smoke. You were washing the dishes when you felt his hands creep around your waist once more and you leant into him. “Thank you.” He whispered in your ear. “I might have a shower,” He told you. “Why don’t you join me?” You chuckled. “Ive already showered.” Jax raised his eyebrows and dipped his hands into the sink. He cupped his hands, letting them fill with the soapy water before splashing you with it. You gasped and squealed. “Jax!” He laughed and splashed you again. Before you knew it, you were both soaked, covered in bubbles and sliding around the kitchen floor. You splashed him once more and he pulled you into his arms. “I love you.” He said. You smiled and looked into those blue eyes. “I love you too, Jax.” ~ Jax ran down the corridor and pushed through the door the lady had directed him to. When he entered the room he froze in his steps at the sight of you. Lying there, in the hospital bed. There was a bandage wrapped around your head, you had a black eye and your lips were swollen, along with multiple grazes along your cheek. Your arm was in a cast and you lay there so.. peaceful. Jax stepped closer slowly and his legs carried him to the seat next to your bed. He sunk into the seat and his eyes brimmed with tears. You needed him, and he hadn’t been there. How long had you been like this? The doctor said you were in a coma, and although you were stable he had said the damage was extensive, and there was a chance you may not pull through. Jax grabbed your hand gently and squeezed it. He couldn’t bring himself to pull his eyes away from your face. “Im so sorry, (y/n).” He whispered. He should have followed you, he should have been there. He should have protected you. Seeing you lying here like this was killing him and you looked so.. broken. Tears ran down his cheeks and all he could do was apologise. A door opened behind him but he didn’t turn. He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed it gently, praying that you would open your eyes. But you didnt. “Jax?” He turned and when he saw Tara standing at the end of the bed anger rose within him. Gently, he placed your hand back on the bed and he stood. “What are you doing here?” Tara blinked rapidly and reached for his hands but he snatched them away. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She said. “I thought you might need me.” Jax grimaced. “What I need, is for my girlfriend to open her eyes.” “Jax I-“ “Why did you come back, Tara?” He snarled. “For you, Jax. I came back for you.” Jax scoffed and shook his head but before he could reply she continued speaking. “I got my degree, Jax. I have a job,a house. I have everything Ive ever wanted. Everything except you.” “Its too late Tara. Im with Y/N now. She’s my old lady.” “I have your crow.” She argued. Jax clenched his fists and moved closer, hovering over her now. “Yeah? Well you’re not an old lady. You should have got it removed when you left.” ~ The clubhouse was quiet, and for the number of people inside it was unusual. The moment Gemma had called you you had dropped everything and headed over. You had known Jax was getting home from Stockton today, but you weren’t expecting him for another few hours and you weren’t expecting the bad news that came with him. Opie was gone. Grief hung in the air and the whole atmosphere of the clubhouse had changed. Your heart was in your throat as you moved, searching desperately around the familiar faces, searching only for one. “He’s in his dorm, lass.” You heard from behind you. You turned and saw Chibs, his head hung low and a haunting pain in his eyes. You reached up and hugged him tightly. You hadn’t seen him since he’d gone inside and you weren’t sure if it was prison or the events that had occurred that made him seem older somehow, haunted. He hugged you back, his arms embracing you and you pressed a kiss to his cheek before letting him go. Of course, all of them were hurting, but Jax was the only thing on your mind and you desperately needed to find him. Chibs squeezed your hand and you headed to the dorms. It was funny, how suddenly a place could feel different after something so tragic. The hallway felt so.. empty. Eerie, almost. Like it knew something, or someone was missing. Your feet carried you to Jax’s dorm and you didn’t bother knocking. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed and staring at the blank wall in front of him. He didn’t look up when you entered but you ran to him and sank to your knees beside him before pulling him into you. He didn’t need you to say anything, just you being there was enough and he began to sob uncontrollably into your chest. You stroked his hair slowly, letting his tears soak through your shirt. “He was my best friend.” Jax whispered against you, his voice broken and full of sadness. “I know baby, I know.” ~ “Jax we can make this work, we can-“ “No!” He yelled. Taras eyes widened and she stepped back from him. “How dare you come here.” He snarled. His fists clenched and he trembled with anger, both with Tara and himself. He turned away from her and stood at the end of the end of the hospital bed. His hands grasped the bed frame tightly, making his knuckles burn. Guilt ran through his veins as he looked at your broken body. After a moment of silence Tara stepped forward and Jax felt her hand lay on his shoulder. “I’m your first love, Jackson.” Jax took a deep breath and clenched his jaw before he turned back towards her. “Your right.” She smiled with relief. “You were my first love Tara. But she is my last. You are my past, and she is my future.” Tara opened her mouth, unable to find the words. Her eyes brimmed with tears and she turned abruptly and left, letting the door close behind her. Jax sighed and ran a hand over his face. God, he felt sick with guilt and he couldn’t help but blame himself for what had happened to you. He should never have let you leave, he should have chased after you. He should never had made you so mad to begin with. For a moment he considered following Tara. Not to be with her, he had meant what he said. But seeing you lay in this hospital bed had him thinking if maybe you would be better off without him. You were a good woman, with a kind heart and he knew you deserved a love that Jax wasn’t sure he could give you. He had no doubt in his mind that he loved you, with all he had left in the ashen remains of his heart. But he had always had doubts that he was good enough for you. It was because of him that you had ended up in here after all. If it hadn’t been for him you would be fine, walking around and laughing like normal. Jax walked to the edge of the bed and gently lifted your hand once more. Your skin was soft and fragile and he sighed as he held it gently in his rough hands. Maybe it was selfish of him, and maybe you deserved better. But he knew he couldn’t walk away, couldn’t let you go. You meant too much to him. He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed your skin softly. “Please wake up, (y/n). I need you.” ~ Jax slung his arm over your shoulder and you squeezed his waist. His lips pressed against your hair as he kissed your head and you smiled up at him once he pulled away. You had spent all day helping Gemma clean up the clubhouse after another wild party and despite having a godawful hangover it had actually been enjoyable. Cleaning wasn’t your favourite pastime but you didn’t hate it either, and you liked spending time with Gemma. She was terrifying, of course, in her usual Gemma Teller way but you both seemed to get along despite the fact you were dating her son. And she was grateful for your help. The croweaters had been there too to help but cleaning wasn’t exactly their specialty, especially when they were hung over. Finally though, the boys had returned from their club business that had kept them away for most of the day and you were happy to see Jax walk back through the doors. He led you outside for a well deserved break and you perched on the edge of the picnic table while he lit up a ciggarette. “Thankyou for helping out today babe.” Jax said after blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Anytime,” You smiled at him. “Although I’m kinda scarred after cleaning Tigs mess.” Jax chuckled before taking another drag. A car pulled into the lot and you both looked up. Wendy got out of the drivers side and waved to you both before getting Abel out of his car seat. “(Y/n)!” The little blonde yelled as soon as his feet hit the pavement. Abel ran towards you and you hopped off the table and knelt with your arms open. He ran into them and you smiled as you squeezed him tight. You lifted him and held him on your hip and Jax pressed a kiss to his sons forehead. “Can we play on the swings?” Abel asked eagerly. “I guess so.” You sighed playfully before tickling him. He giggled loudly and you smiled at Wendy once more before carrying Abel to the swing set. “He’s been asking about (y/n) all week.” Wendy said. Jax nodded, a proud smile on his face as he watched you playing with his son. “So is she your old lady yet or what?” He raised his eyebrows, an amused look on his face as he looked at his ex. “You gonna give me relationship advice darlin?” Wendy rolled her eyes. “She’s a good girl, Jax. She’ll make a good old lady, better than I ever was.” They both watched as you pushed Abel on the swing and his laughter echoed through the lot. “Look all I’m saying is don’t screw things up with her. She’s good for you. She’s good for him.” ~ Three days had passed without any changes. The doctors had said your condition seemed to be improving however you were still in a coma and Jax was growing more impatient with every passing day. He had spent every minute by your bedside, only leaving to freshen up, but never for more than ten minutes. The room was filled with balloons and the scent of fresh flowers, mainly from Gemma. The guilt never left him and every minute you spent in this coma Jax seemed to blame himself more. The nurses had told him to talk to you, that you could hear him. At first he had been uncomfortable, unsure of what to say to someone who couldn’t answer back. He’d started with apologies, before telling you about his plans for the club. He’d just finished telling you a story about how the guys had hid a bunch of dolls in their rooms to stop Tig from snooping when he stopped talking mid sentence. Your eyes had fluttered, he was sure of it. “Babe? Come on wake up.” You stirred, your eyes flickering open for a moment and your fingers twitched slightly. A wide smiled spread over his face and he squeezed your hand gently. Ever so slowly, the room began to focus around you. You squinted your eyes, gradually taking in your surroundings before you focused on Jax, sitting teary eyed by your bed. “You look like shit.” You told him, your voice slightly raspy. Jax laughed lightly and a tear rolled down his cheek. He didn’t doubt your words, he’d barely slept in three days. “How are you feeling?” Jax asked. “Like I’ve been hit by a truck.” “Il get a nurse.” “No, Jax wait. I-” “I’m so sorry, (y/n).” Jax interrupted. “I should have told you. I don’t wanna lose you, darlin. You mean everything to me and I-” “It’s okay Jax.” You told him. He stopped and looked at you, the blues of his eyes sparkling with unshed tears. His face was filled with guilt and you smiled softly. “I love you, Jackson. And I trust you. It’s okay.” Jax stood and hovered over the bed. His fingers reached oh and gently room hold of your chin. He pressed his lips against yours softly, too scared of hurting you. You kissed him back and you didn’t notice the tear that escaped you and rolled down your cheek. “Marry me.” Jax whispered as he pulled his lips away. “What?!” “Marry me.” He grinned. “I love you, (y/n). Almost losing you made me realise how much I need you. I want to spend my life with you. Marry me.” You rated at him, your mouth slightly open. “Yes,” you breathed. “Yes!” You both grinned at each other, your eyes damp with tears of joy and this time when he kissed you you swore you could taste the rest of your life on his lips. Minutes passed and eventually he pulled away and sat back in the chair, his hands holding yours softly. “Jax?” “Yes, mrs Teller?” You grinned. “Is Tig really that scared of dolls?”
1. Tell her story about what happened with William
2. Reunite with William again
3. Tell her POV about how she has worked things out with William and that they are better than ever.
And not only that, but she had a storyline in almost all episodes.
Yet, when people wanted Even to tell his story from his POV because he never got the chance to, and it was about a really fucking important story, people yelled “this season isn’t about isak and even! It’s about Sana”. When people asked for Even and Sana to talk, people were like “but that wouldn’t make sense!! They aren’t even friends. Why would they talk?” When S4 showed us that Sana had history with Even and how alike they were!!!
When people got upset about Even’s plot being cut out and magically solved off screen people said “this season is about Sana!!!!!! Omg!!!! Stop making everything about your fave gay couple!”
When people complained about the Noora focus and the Noora/William focus, people said “it’s the last season! It can’t be all about Sana! The fans wanted to see Noora and William together, and for them to have some closure! They wanted to see Noora tell what happened in London because it’s important for the fans to hear it from Noora!”
And that was okay! But wanting to have Even tell his story about what happened in Bakka and the boys was too much! That was “this show isn’t about Evak! It’s not about your fave gay couple!”
Noora got to tell her story and we got to see her reunite with William, and hear that they are good now. And yet people complain about us wanting to hear Even’s story.
Alright so telling this story is gonna pinpoint my location almost exactly by I’m gonna tell it anyway before it slips into my subconscious.
Also, I want to note that this customer was not rude at all. She was actually very nice and polite. If you’re reading this, lady, I’m not really complaining about you. I just wish I had answers and I need to vent this out.
Ok so it was warehouse day and I was in cosmetics rummaging through a tote. Then I notice this lady, just fucking pouring our neutrogena shelf into her basket.
She empties the 2 shelves and asks to be rung up. I, in shock, comply.
At some point while I was ringing, she left to put her basket away. Before she came back, I called the manager over to help me make some sense of this.
As I continue ringing, he comes in and we make eye contact (uncertain and nervous eye contact) and he just hangs around the aisle to make sure she doesn’t do anything weird (I guess).
So I finish ringing up the 2 baskets worth of stuff, the exact total being $1,525.35 (which will be forever etched into my brain), and she pulls out cash.
I ask to see her ID, which is policy for purchases over $50 on a card but I felt this might require it also.
She says she doesn’t have it and I call my manager over and he says it’s fine, since it’s cash. But he stays next to me the rest of the transaction, which I am grateful for.
So I count the cash, my manager checks and counts the cash, and we determine that all 1,530 of her dollars are real and accounted for and we give her the $4.65 change.
Everything is bagged and she leaves. My manager and I agree that 10 years have been added to our lifespans and we feel somehow wronged.
Not even an hour later, this woman comes back. She says her sister found the $1525.35 worth of stuff cheaper somewhere else and wants to do a return. I immediately call back the same manager, as I don’t even know where to begin with this.
He, to my surprise, simply voids the transaction. Done quick and easy. He goes to the safe to retrieve the $1525.35 she paid us from the safe in our office.
He counts it, I count it, she counts it. It is all there and accounted for. She thanks us for being so kind and helpful and takes her leave.
My manager and I once again agree that 10 more years have been added and we still feel wronged.
I put all of the merchandise back on the 2 shelves. And continue putting up ware house as if nothing has happened. But it did happen. It did happen.