I got some inspiration from an episode of ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ it’s a great show btw.
Hope you enjoy <3
I listened to this while writing, it adds to the angst effect <33
You felt the familiar strange feeling, the second you stepped into the building.
It had become a second home to you now, just not the one you want to go to. You knew who were behind these many doors. You’d made some friends, while staying here. Some were for life, some were to avoid the thick loneliness, and the haunting thoughts, of thinking that you were dying, and some of them were.
Nurses, dressed in white from head to toe, were rushing by. You bit your lip as you walked down the hall, that smelled like plastic and new magazines. Stopping in front of the door, you took a deep breath before gently knocking.
“Come in” His raspy voice said, making you turn the handle and step inside the room.
“Hey” You said as you closed the door, and leaned against it. Your eyes fell down on his body, that were laying on the bed, covered in the thin comforter with blue dots.
His silver hair had lost some of it’s color, and the circles under his eyes were heavy and dark.
“Hi” He said as he slowly sat up.
You neared him, sitting on the edge of the bed, 2 feet from him.
“Are you” You cleared your throat. “Better?” You finished as you repositioned yourself on the bed.
Bambam took the pillow that was behind him, and hugged it close to his chest.
“I guess, the food is still horrible though” He chuckled, his eyes wandering the room, avoiding your boring gaze.
“Are the nurses nice?” You pushed, feeling the need to keep the conversation going.
“They’re okay” He trailed off. You sighed and looked towards the door. You patted the bed and got up, heading towards the door.
“I uhm, I have to go” You smiled awkwardly and opened the door.
You quickly stepped out, but caught his quiet “goodbye” before closing the door. Running your hands over your face, you pressed your back against the wall. Ever since the accident, he’d been like that. Everyday. For 3 months. Some days were worse than others, and the last couple of days, had been pure hell. You knew deep down, that it was all your fault, and you still woke up at 3 am, reaching over to his side of the bed, hoping he was there to comfort you.
But he never was.
The nightmares were constant and the need to feel him was constant too. You missed him so badly, even though he was right in front of you.
But he wasn’t the same. And he would never be. That was what the doctors had told you, when you were stable enough to have a normal conversation.
“Ms, are you okay?” A gentle, feminine voice asked, making you open your eyes and retreat your hands from your face. You looked at the woman in front of you, and recognized her immediately. She was your nurse from when you were hospitalized. And your favorite one at that.
“Y-yes, I’m fine” You replied, your voice cracking.
She scrunched her eyebrows and looked at you.
“Sweetie, your mascara is running and you look like a mess. Come with me” She said and quickly grabbed your wrist and dragged you with her.
Confused to say the least, you were as you sat in front of her, in a room that apparently was her office, considering there were pictures of her, a man and 2 beautiful children.
“Do you want some water?” She asked, and held a glass of water out in front of you.
You gratefully took the glass and took a sip.
“Thank you” You said, looking around the room.
“How are you doing, Y/N?” She asked, folding her hands on her desk, as she was looking at you.
You looked at her.
“I’m, okay I think”
“You don’t have to lie to me. I do know you a little bit” She said, her tone cold and hard.
You felt your lips wobble and a tear made it’s way down your cheek.
“It’s-its-I’m sorry. It’s my fault. All my fault” You whimpered, looking at her through your blurry vision.
“What do you mean, dear?” She asked, reaching out and taking your hand in hers.
“It’s my fault, he’s like this. He doesn’t even remember me! I tore his future and past away from him” You cried, your voice breaking. Your cheeks were itchy from the salty tears.
“You are not responsible for a drunk driver Y/N, it was not your fault” She answered, squeezing your hand tightly.
“He doesn’t know who I am. He doesn’t know who his own f-fiancee is, Doctor” You choked on your own words, feeling your face getting hotter.
“But who says he won’t Y/N? He needs time”
You pulled your hand from hers and got up from the green chair.
You lightly bowed and hurried out the door, ignoring her calls after you, and ran out of the hospital.
You were about to knock, before the door opened, revealing a nurse, a clipboard in her hand a a tray of half eaten food in the other.
“Oh! Hello Y/N” She smiled brightly at you. You smiled back at her and was about to enter before she stopped you.
“He’s happy today” She simply said, before running off. You shook your head at her comment, before entering the room.
True to her words, there he was, a big smile plastered on his face. He was almost too worked up to sit still. You closed the door and walked towards him.
“What’s gotten to you Jag-Bams?” You froze at the thought of all the things that could’ve gone wrong in that moment. You balled your hands into fists and tried to loosen up, repeating in your head, that it was only close.
“Yah Y/N!” He quickly said, as he got up and jumped towards you. He looked you deep in the eyes before getting even closer.
“I can trust you, right?” He whispered, and looked around the room was if someone was listening.
“Of course” You stated, chuckling at the question.
Bambam quickly ran behind the bed and bowed down. He got up and ran back towards you, his arms behind his back.
“What are you hiding Bams?” You asked, your curiosity getting the best of you.
Bambam looked down and bit his lip, before pulling a red, heart shaped box out from behind his back. A light pink card was plastered to the little bow, that was tied around the box.
“What is it?” You asked and took the box from his hands.
“Uhm, you see”
He giggled before turning the card around for you to see. You brought the box closer to your face, and saw a name written on the card.
I think, at this point, I’m just gonna have to accept that people are going to call my gods terrible and horrible rapists who hate humanity. Because these people just don’t want to learn anything and obviously aren’t very serious about this topic. I should really stay in my lane and whatnot.
If anyone comes and attacks me, though, about a god and why I’m wrong, that’s when I lay that information on their skulls, like wha-bam. How about these sources for you.
Lydia’s a study in disinterest. Gaze stretching out
across campus, lips pursed in judgment of the impromptu Frisbee match forming
on the quad, position oriented to scarcely acknowledge that she’s standing with
Stiles is tempted to tell her to drop the act because once
obsession with someone has been coded into his DNA, there’s not so much as a
micro-expression that he’s likely to miss. He’s definitely already caught
on to and catalogued the shrewdness that has been attacking her face all day. She
knows something but she doesn’t know what she knows and she’s been hawk-eyed and
predatory ever since she figured out that much.
Stiles is not going to encourage any of that, thanks much.
Side note: why is everyone around him comparable to some type of bird?
Not that he’s thinking about hummingbirds, because he isn’t. He
could be, but he’s not, because he’s in control of his brain and he’s decided:
no. Crap. Firstly, he’s totally thinking about hummingbirds. Second-of-ly, what kind of bird would that make him? Oh
man, probably some kind of friggin’ goose.
He hates geese.
Now he knows it’s likely because he’s subconsciously
recognized a kinship to them.
“If you had to pick a feathered representation for me, it
wouldn’t be a goose, right?”
Years of following his bullet-speed trains of thought has
led to Lydia taking that completely in stride. She doesn’t even bother to
look up at him, hand fishing in her purse for her phone to check the time. “A seabird
probably,” she offers, lighting up the screen, “they’re clumsy on land.”
“Well that’s a self-esteem boost I didn’t know I needed,”
Stiles says dryly. “You’re a true humanitarian, Lyds. Also, the correct answer was secret option C) some kind of dinosaur. I would’ve preferred stegosaurus, for the record.”
She brushes the hair out of her face, glances at him.
“I could have said a hoatzin.”
Stiles has legitimately no idea what that is. “Th…
anks?” He thinks. Probably.
“More commonly known as stinkbirds. You’re welcome,”
she confirms. Her gaze is less glancing, more stripping and Stiles
pretends not to notice. “Expert deflection, Stiles, truly.” She
golf claps mockingly and Stiles glares back at her. “Now what are you
“If I tell you, they’ll revoke my ‘expert’ status,” Stiles
points out smartly, “And rip up my ribbon. I can’t have that, I’ve
already put it in the family newsletter.”
So I open up Voltage Amemix’s Hades Main Story 1, right?
And I start reading the first chapter, right?
And then BAM!!
A black woman in a Voltage game! Look at her, so damn gorgeous I can’t
take it. She’s like a goddess or something.
SHE IS A GODDESS!!! oH YES OH YES OH YES!
NO, NO I’M NOT ALL RIGHT, I’M BEYOND ALL RIGHT!
Everything about her is wonderful! Full lips, a lipstick color that complements her skin tone, earth toned box braids pulled up into an elegant updo topped off with a flower. Oh goddess of spring! <3 <3
But really, Voltage have yall been reading Hype Hair magazine? Cuz those braids are on point.
I’m going to cosplay as Persephone at a con. I don’t care if only like 5 people recognize me. Maybe if I can make it to Anime Expo next year I can pop by the Voltage booth in this cosplay.
!!!WARNING – (First of all I’m writing for Deadpool so what do you expect..) Issues with father figures, kidnapping, violence with weapons, Abusive relationship and Physical abuse.
It was midnight and Deadpool was sneaking into an abandoned warehouse for a mission. He walked into the dark warehouse and saw a young girl tied to a chair under a dim, flickering light.
“Please…don’t hurt me again.”
He jogged over to her and sat down next to her.
“Hey there, I’m Pool, Dead, I’m not here to hurt you.” He said. “Oh well!” He was sitting cross-legged next to the girl and started cleaning his gun.
The girl whimpered and pleaded. “Plea- Please don’t kill me…” Her voice was shaky, she had tears in her eyes and she was trembling or of fear.
“What? Oh n-n-n-n-n-n-no! I’m just here to kill the guy that kidnapped you.” Wade said informally.
“You work with her don’t you!”
“No! Oh for goodness sakes, can you just tell me what your kidnapper looks like.” Deadpool deadpanned.
“Sh-She’s wearing a mask, she looks like a freak…she dresses in red and black a- and she looks just like you.” the girl stammered out.
“Did you call me a freak? Wait she looks like me? Wait…she?”
The girl nodded and then gasped when she heard the warehouse door creak. “She’s coming.”
“Um okay well, stay here.” Deadpool said before disappearing into the dark.
“Ayye…sheesh, you think at least one cafe would have a working frappe machine.” A new voice appeared.
It was a she, Wade wasn’t able to see her yet but from the description the girl gave him it wouldn’t be that hard. ‘Hmm my hopefully sexy female doppelganger?’
A woman came out of the shadows and into the dim lighting; she circled around the victim and stopped in front of her. She was dressed in a red and black latex jumpsuit with her face painted white. “Well, well, well, you’re still here, Emma? Thank you for not running away.” the hostage gave her captor the ‘are you serious’ look.
“Oh, someone must have some serious daddy issues.” Deadpool whispered quietly to himself.
“Okay you harlequin, time to die.” He jumped out with his handguns in both hands. The woman just stared at him with big eyes.
“You said my name.”
“It’s Harley Quinn…puddin.” she smiled wildly before pulling out a gun.
“Oh, Harley if you think that’s going to kill me, you must have no idea who I am.” The mercenary joked. “I really don’t want to fight you, so just let the girl go and we can all leave without any bruises.”
You laughed and grinned madly, “Well then that’s a no-brainer.” you said, the guy in red and black laughed and was about to speak before you interrupted him, “I’m not letting her go until I get the ransom, but you not fighting back we’ll be easier for me, mistah.”
You shot him twice in the chest, but he didn’t seem phased. “What?”
“See Harley babe, you can’t get rid of me.”
“Can you even feel pain?”
“Eh, good enough for me.”
Deadpool now lay pathetically on the floor waiting for his healing factor to kick in. A number had really been done on him, shot in one eye, took some solid punches and cracked his neck.
“I’m sorry puddin’ but little miss hostage’s daddy ain’t co-operating with me right now.”
“…you…stole…my…costume…” he spluttered out.
You smiled your signature smile and said, “No- nu- uh this costume was original till you copied it.”
Her temporary shitty phone rang, it was the Joker, she got excited he never called her, usually if he only really needed Y/N for something he’d get one of his henchmen to do it. The woman got excited and answered it immediately.
‘HARLEY!’ The voice on the other side shrieked.
“Yes, Mr J?”
“HARLEY HAVE YOU GOT THE MONEY YET?!”
“USELESS! For once in your life Harley do something right and keep the hostage there until I get there.” He sighed and hung up. You slowly dropped your hand and put the phone in your pocket. You messed up, again.
“He sounds like a dick.”
You turned around and looked at the mercenary, your lip was quivering. “NO! SHUT UP! YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT MY MR J!”
Deadpool’s eyes squinted; he was still on the floor.
You tied him up and put him next to the long-forgotten hostage. Sniffling, you walked out of the light and waited for the Joker.
“So…your boyfriend an abusive asshole?”
“SHUT UP! He’s not an asshole, and he’s not my boyfriend…or, or abu- SHUT UP!” You slapped him across the face.
“Mr J is just misunderstood.”
“Okay, but uh if you ever need me to cut off his balls I’ll give you my number, assuming I’m alive,” he said. “SO CALL ME ANYTIME, I’M IMMORTAL.”
She shook your head suppressing the smallest smile.
“My real name…it’s Y/N, Puddin’ keeps thinking its Harley… so it kinda stuck.”
“Wade.” Deadpool smiled.
The hostage looked over at the two lunatics that were currently having a moment, ‘WTF’.
“This sucks balls.” Deadpool said looking over to the other hostage who was tied up.
“Shut up, I thought you were meant to help me.” The girl said spitefully.
“I am.” Deadpool showed the girl his arms which had the ropes just now cut.
He went behind the girl and cut the rope.
“Stay close.” He said.
The two of them slipped through the abandoned slaughter house factory until they saw a small light coming from outside, the girl dashed through and made her way out on to the street, Wade was about to follow until he heard screaming. He kept walking towards the noise; the voices become much louder as he climbed the stairs leading to what seems used to be an office.
“WELL, WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’S NOT CO-OPERATING!?” A male voice said maliciously.
“Well, he said he’s not gonna pay until we give her back first.”
“WELL TELL HIM NO MONEY, NO GIRL!”
“I-I tried Mr J, believe me.”
Deadpool peered behind the wall and saw Y/N; all her white face-paint was off because of what could only be tears, she had a bruise on her cheek, ‘That wasn’t there before…’ Wade thought. Then he saw a white gloved hand begin to rise up and try to slap her again before luckily being stopped by the sound of a ring tone.
The hand froze and went to pull out a phone; Deadpool finally got a look at the man that was screaming even if it was only his back. ‘Green hair, really?! These people are nuts.’
Deadpool jumped out quietly into the room, the Joker had his back turned so the only person that noticed him was Y/N, she quickly shook her head quietly trying to convince him to leave, Deadpool got a full look at her now. She had more cuts and bruises, he pulled out a gun and aimed it at the Joker’s head.
“Now, now Deadpool you don’t want to do that.” The green haired man said with his back still facing them.
“Because would be a silly thing to do.”
Deadpool wasted no time shooting the Joker at the back of the head. He turned to a wide-eyed Y/N.
“I did you a favour.”
He grabbed her arm and ran out of the factory, they ran for hours until they stopped at a small diner along a beach he honestly had no idea where the hell he was he just kept running clasping her hand in his.
“W-Why did you do that?”
“I don’t like copycats, but if there’s one thing I hate more than anything, its abusive shitheads. When he was about to slap you, you didn’t even flinch, like you were waiting for it. I hate that.”
“Mr J wasn’t abusive!”
“Yes he was! You shouldn’t put bruises on people you love- unless they’re hickeys, don’t put hickeys on your family though, maybe you got like a girlfriend or boyfriend or something- anyway what I’m saying is that HE. IS. ABUSIVE. The sooner you realise that the better.” Wade cried.
Y/N’s eyes widened and gears shifted in her head, she moved over behind him and started to massage his shoulders.
“What are yo- Ooh, yeah I like this keep going,” he moaned “ooh yeah.”
“You know what funny thing is Mr?”
“Mmm what’s that?” Deadpool said his eyes had drifted closed.
Suddenly she stopped; Wade waited a while before opening his eyes to see two of his guns gone and Y/N in a –most likely stolen- vehicle waving at him with his gun in hand.
She smiled a bright smile at him, “You know Mr, I like you, and hopefully one day we’ll meet again. Bye Bye Mr D.” She smiled seductively before zooming off with the stolen car.
‘Mr D hmm gotta try and get everyone to call me that now.’
I can’t wait for all this wedding planning crap to be over so I can just live and be with my wife…
Bear with me a moment, though… It’s not like it sounds. Like… I actually just flim-flamming daydreamed about kicking back with the woman I love… because there is no kicking back right now. It’s all figuring out seating, picking music, figuring out which of our people would enjoy each other, or who would straight-up cut a bitch… Doesn’t help that one of the few things we both really wanted to incorporate into this shindig is going to be hella frigging difficult to make happen… if not dangerous as hell.
In the name of all that is peanut-buttery, good, and made of happy in the world, if the “fun part” of this process doesn’t start soon, I might stab the first wedding planner I find on principle alone.
It’ll be epic though… I’ll just see them from across the street, in an awkwardly anachronistic western village randomly placed in the middle of metropolitan North Carolina… and friggin tumbleweeds will roll by… OH, and there’ll be a disembodied whistle all “WOOoo WOOoo WOOOO…. WAH WAH WAH…” …because Texan. Duh… And like, then one of us will call a random pedestrian “pilgrim” and send ‘em packin really condescendingly, but in a strangely endearing manner… Then WHA-BAM! Just when they thought it’d be a quick-draw from a six shooter, it’d be a knife throw to the face! …Because hell yeah I brought a knife to a gunfight! …And because I’m a sucker for stupid stereotypes, and damn if I’m not gonna be that Latino with a knife cutting someone (so good). lol.
…BUT YEAH. NO LAUGHING. ANGRY. Because I miss hanging out with my lady. I miss just shooting the shit, and being silly, because right now our free time consists of remembering that we have the all the things to get done for this thing that’s awesome, and greatly appreciated, and I’m sure will be phenomenal, but is quickly making us both go insane.
I cannot flipping wait until we can use our “free” time to do things that don’t make us stressed the poop out…
Ya know… Like not planning a wedding. -_-;
The dancing is gonna be sick though. Such DJ, So music, Many beats, Wow.
I just want to be married to my bad ass fiancee. I just want to be able to be like, “Oh! Hey, nice to meet you! This is Sarah Moreno, My Wife.” with like all the blatant subtext of like, “YUP. MARRIED, BITCHES. SHE SEXY. I MARRIED THAT. JEALOUS. YOU AINT HER. YOU AINT ME. WE FINE. YOU BASIC.” and continue to date the hell out of her, because I’m putting ANOTHER ring on it, and that means I’m saying, “Hey girl, Let’s date. FOREVER.” BECAUSE THAT’S HOW YOU FIDDLE-STICKING ADULT. …er somethin.
/There should really be like… lincoln logs: MARRIAGE EDITION. That crap would be legit. Lincoln Logs are the jam. You don’t like Lincoln Logs? I don’t like you. Neither does Buddy Christ. Also, George Washington said you suck. It was in a book somewhere. I mean I’m paraphrasing, but it was definitely in there. Because Lincoln Logs.
…I shouldn’t be allowed to adult.
Seriously though… Marriage. It’s gonna be amazing, and I can’t wait.
2 weeks. Marrying my best friend, the woman of my flipping dreams, my hero, and the only person silly enough to say yes to me. I win.