#my_writing

[skepsiss]

Petition to have more Steddie writers, have Eddie call Steve "leman."

It's literally the Medieval version of "sweetheart" and it's pronounced "lemon" so unless it's on paper, people will just think Eddie is calling Steve lemon. Eddie is a giant freaking nerd and would do something incredibly dorky like this.

#eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #Eddie thinks he is so clever but really he is a disaster man #my_writing

[maya-tl]

MEDISPY MEDIC WITH HANANAKI DISEASE shakes aggressively and stims

Medic knew what it meant when the flowers started coming.

He was no botanist and he may have lost his medical licence along the way, but he wasn’t stupid enough to ignore the morning sickness or the tight feeling in his chest, and especially not the unassuming little bundle of flowers he’d coughed up into the sink the day before.

They were small, smaller than his fingernails, round and fluffy and coloured a vibrant yellow. Medic wasn’t that well-versed in flower language apart from the basic variants of roses, but he’d caught Heavy reading a book on the subject in the living room once. He’d startled quite badly when he noticed Medic watching him, but then calmly explained that it was good practice for his English and asked Medic if he was interested in borrowing it.

Medic was quite fluent in English, in spite of his accent, and he knew that Heavy knew this, but he decided against embarrassing his friend and politely agreed to have a look at it. He’d forgotten to return it, but Heavy hadn’t asked him about it since and so he figured it would be alright if he held onto it a little longer.

Yellow acacia flowers. Secret love.

Medic had run the tests and checked his vitals, in spite of the fact that he already knew what it was. Hanahaki, a disease caused by unrequited love where the afflicted coughed up flowers over a few months—or, in rare cases, years—until the plants multiplied inside their lungs quicker than they could be expelled and suffocated them. A slow and agonising way to die.

Medic had known what to expect. He had, after all, been coughing up petals for weeks.

He hadn’t expected the whole flowers to come so soon, due to the nature of the respawn system, but he supposed it was inevitable either way. There was no cure for the disease and Medic couldn’t hope to achieve what centuries of research had failed to do in such a short time—because his time was short, there was no doubt about that. It was advancing too quickly.

Surgery wasn’t an option, and Medic had laughed bitterly when he realised that. He was a damn good surgeon and the Medigun would allow him to perform the surgery on himself, so logically the odds were stacked in his favour, especially since the thought of permanent death was terrifying. He would survive and return to health and no longer have to worry about dying.

Except the thought of no longer loving him was worse.

So Medic endured. It was easy enough to pretend he was fine around his teammates, who knew not to ask too many questions lest they lose an internal organ in their sleep. Heavy sometimes looked at him more closely than Medic would’ve liked, and he’d caught him talking in hushed whispers with Engineer before dinner on multiple occasions. Engineer would throw him a quick look, notice him staring, and then avoid him for the rest of the evening.

Normally Medic wouldn’t hesitate to insert himself into their business, especially since it was very obvious it concerned him, but lately he couldn’t be bothered; too many sleepless nights spent vomiting in the bathroom were taking their toll on him.

The yellow flowers didn’t last long, replaced instead by more beautiful but just as small flowers of a striking dark indigo colour. Medic had picked one out of the more recent bunch, washed off the blood and flipped through the book until he’d found the right page.

Heliotrope. Eternal love and devotion.

Of course.

Medic tossed the book on his nightstand and fell back against the pillow with a sigh, clenching his hand into a fist and crushing the delicate flower. When he opened his hand to brush off the petals, a sweet fragrance wafted into the room, much too potent to belong to one single bloom. That was surely the reason for his watering eyes.

His performance on the battlefield worsened as the disease progressed. He often found himself short of breath, which made him slower and more vulnerable and constantly turned his vision blurry at the edges. Nearly every time he died and went through respawn he was forced to run to the bathroom and throw up the day’s dose of flowers, which made him late to coordinated attacks and led to them losing matches.

The others were starting to catch on, and Medic was trying too hard not to vomit all over the dinner table every night to say anything in his defence.

Eventually, as it was bound to happen, he misstepped.

He’d dimmed the lights in the infirmary and turned the lamp on his desk away from him and still everything seemed too bright. He was supposed to focus on the team’s monthly medical check-up sheets, but every time he tried to write something down a tremor came over his hands and the letters on the page fused together into intelligible gibberish. In the dead silence of the soundproof infirmary, his own breathing grated on his ears.

By the time he reached the bottom of the first sheet he was exhausted, and he put the pen aside and dropped his head in his hands, focusing on taking one breath at a time. He was so frustrated—at his teammates, for not leaving him alone, at the universe, for doing this to him, at himself, for catching the disease in the first place—that he didn’t hear the doors opening or the footsteps approaching his desk.

A hand rested gently on his shoulder. Medic, against his better judgement, startled himself into looking up, and once the room stopped spinning and the vertigo passed his heart seemed to halt.

Spy looked down at him, the visible parts of his face schooled into careful neutrality. Medic met his eyes and his lungs immediately constricted painfully, and it took every ounce of willpower he had for him to swallow the flowers threatening to spill from his throat.

He expected Spy to simply raise an eyebrow and stare at him until Medic gave in and explained himself, or perhaps to subtly prod at him until he found what was wrong, or even to forego subtlety entirely and outright ask for an apology. Spy was too much of a gentleman and much too dignified to start yelling obscenities at Medic, even if Medic had technically wronged him for a good reason. He’d been avoiding him, yes, but he’d been avoiding everyone.

He did not expect Spy to wordlessly hold out his other hand and reveal a single, blood-stained indigo flower resting in the middle of his palm.

Heliotrope. Eternal love and devotion.

“You were not in your room,” Spy explained when Medic simply stared at the flower, “So I checked the bathroom. I found it on the floor next to the sink.”

Medic swallowed, his throat dry, and dared to look back up. Spy’s features were as neutral as ever, but there was a sheen over his eyes that hadn’t been there before, and Medic was so shocked to see it that the words he’d wanted to force out died on his tongue.

“Were you going to tell me?” Spy asked softly, in that tone of voice that meant he was either furious or wounded.

Medic couldn’t figure out which one it was, and in the absence of a response Spy tightened his grip on Medic’s shoulder.

“Well?” he insisted, “How long?”

Medic managed to get his voice working. “A few months,” he rasped, too busy watching Spy’s expression to cringe at the horrible sound. Spy closed his eyes and nodded slowly, the way he did whenever he was emotionally overwhelmed and trying to compose himself, but when he opened them again they still gleamed in the dim light of the room.

“Is it someone I know?” he asked, trying for light-hearted and missing the mark completely.

Medic blinked. “What?”

“Doctor,” Spy said, not quite forceful enough to hide the way his voice trembled, “I am trying very hard to be supportive in the face of learning that you are actively choosing to die for someone who surely doesn’t deserve you. Don’t make this harder on me.”

Something clicked.

“You don’t know,” Medic said, bordering on hysterical because he’d always assumed—

Spy scowled. Definitely furious. “And how on Earth would I know who the object of your affections is? You’ve never talked about…”

Spy trailed off. As much as he prided himself on his ingenuity, Medic had always known that he wouldn’t ever be the smartest person in the room so long as Spy was there with him. He was good at his job, better than any other spy Medic had ever met—his only weakness was that he tended to overlook himself whenever he was part of the equation.

Spy’s grip on Medic’s shoulder went slack, and the mask of neutrality cracked and shattered when he met Medic’s eyes and found there all the answers he needed. Medic watched his expression rapidly change from realisation to incredulity, to relief and then finally to unmistakeable, blinding anger.

“You utter imbecile,” Spy hissed, grabbed Medic by the front of his shirt and pulled him into a searing kiss.

Medic made a noise of surprise in the back of his throat and then immediately melted into the touch, bringing his hand up behind Spy’s head to deepen the kiss. The office chair creaked under the weight of two bodies as Spy unceremoniously climbed onto Medic’s lap, and Medic suddenly found all his previous thoughts scattered on the wind.

“You thought—” Spy gasped when they broke apart for air only to immediately kiss him again, “For months you—” This time it was Medic who pulled him back in, again and again, and eventually Spy had to rest a hand firmly on Medic’s chest to allow them both to catch their breath.

Medic instinctively began to rub circles into Spy’s waist, his chest painfully tight. His face must’ve been positively love-struck, because Spy huffed out a laugh that made his eyes crinkle at the corners and leaned down to brush his lips against his.

“I love you too,” he whispered, and something in the vicinity of Medic’s heart spasmed.

He turned away and began to cough, a horrid noise that only got worse the longer it went. He felt Spy hastily climb off his lap as the flowers started to come, first fluffy and yellow and then beautiful dark purple, and just when Medic was beginning to feel lightheaded and thought he might die from the blood loss after all the coughing suddenly stopped, leaving him gasping for air in a way he hadn’t been able to do in months.

A hand was gently patting him on the back. Medic leaned his entire weight into the body next to him and started to laugh, and when Spy pressed a kiss against his temple and teasingly asked him what was so funny he simply pointed to the floor.

Among the blood splatter and the veritable sea of scattered petals there lay a single, thin stem filled to the brim with miniscule pale flowers in full bloom. Spy leaned forward to have a closer look and immediately sneezed, and he muttered something about his allergies to the sound of Medic’s laughter.

Ambrosia. Reciprocated love.

#my_inbox #sillyspykin #my_writing #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 gentle surgery #tf2 medic #tf2 spy #this is also up on my ao3 page now. thanks for requesting!

[pleasantcandystarfish]

“ My God, this geographical spot has become darker than the belly of the whale, so there is no god but You, Glory be to You. Indeed, I was of the wrongdoers ”

🖋️ Written by : @reda.bakrim

#redabakrim

#reda_bakrim

#psico_terapique_officiel

#studio_reda_bakrim

#رضى_باكريم

#كتابات_رضى_باكريم

#إقتباسات_رضى_باكريم

#قراءات_رضى_باكريم

#روايات_رضى_باكريم

#كتابات

#مكتبة_رضى_باكريم

#كتابات #كتابات #كتاباتي_ #كتاباتي_خواطري #اقتباسات

#my_writing

#writing

#ecrivan

#photo

#pictureedits #picturebooks #picture_to_keep_nature #pictureframes #picturebyme #picturebooksaremyjam #picturedisc #picturedrocks #pictureday #pictureoftoday

https://instagram.com/reda.bakrim?igshid=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

[yddraigwyllt]

I’m finished SUDDENLY 40-pages (-ish, it hasn’t been edited yet) fic about... *dramatic drums* PRESSLINGTON! *cheering, applause* No one expected this, and I’m first of all.

#my_writing #my_shipping #mememe

[jonnestt]

a necessary call

Telephone beeping… click click. An unknown voice answers: “Hello, you’re talking to the reception at coil con., how can I help you today?” “Hi, yea. Johannes my name,” I explain, “I’m gonna have to talk to your contractor... uhm, Coffeein for a moment.” “Johannes?” they exclaim asking, before saying, “I’m sure they’re gonna have time for you. I’ll put you on hold for a second.” and returning me into the long beep of an empty line.

Only a few moments later the vague clickings of a receiver being picked up ring through. They are being followed by a coarse yet ambiguous voice: “Yes, Coffein here, what’s the reason for your call?”  “Heeey, Coff-Coff,” I jump in, which they audibly reject, before I pick up the sentence “you do remember the terms of our contract, right?” “Uhm... yea,” they answer “you take a constant supply of my hands and in exchange you’ll be able to take full advantage of our faculties.” “Yeea, that’s about the gist.” I reply satisfied, ”But there is a teeny tiny problem on your end if I judge correctly?” “Hm, what's that?” They ask, leading me to explain: “I’ve not received enough product to satisfy demand over here since 2018.” A short break. Tiredly they exclaim: “And you’re calling now?” “Don’t you come with that!” I retort, “You know there was an emergency.” leading to another moment of silence. Using this time to collect myself and reformulate my demands: “Listen. Either y’all gonna give me my wakey juice or I’ll burn the bridge, capish?”  But they, unshook, reply cold: “Young man. Do you really think you can betray our contract like this?”  “As stated, you may take advantage of our faculties, nothing more, nothing less.” They explain again. Spurred on I reply: “And I’ll terminate that contract. A S A P.” “Did you not read it? You don’t have a quick way out.” They take a breath, “You’re either going to take me through court, and you know you don’t want that, or you’re going to take the long road of withdrawal. Or alternatively, you could simply honour the contract, and we’ll take your demands into our stakeholder analysis, how does that sound?” 

After a break, I sigh: “It seems, I’ll have to reassess my options.” Causing them to take over: “I’ll guess, you’ll call again once you’ve done that?” “So it seems.” I answer, “Have a great day.” “You too.” They reply and lower the receiver back onto their phone.

#writing #creative writing #shortstory #short story #Coffee #is extorting me #my_writing #cosmic horror #Well technically #the universe is based on cosmic horror #so yeh #gender not necessary #I think y'alls already understand but I wanted to make that obvious in case this hobby gets anywhere #I just figured this would make it more palatable a wider audience without detracting from the core concepts being communicated.

[mercy-thought]

الإسلام حافظ على المرأة من خلال تسترها و وضع لها حدود لحمايتها من شرور الآخرين.... لكن بعضهن عكس هذا يريدون التحرر وهن لا يعلمن ان هذا ليس في مصلحتهم. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hashtag : #instagood #instagram #twitter #writting #my_writing #explore #anime #otaku #silentvoice #positivevibes #الايجابية #تحرر #مرأة #كتاباتي_الخاصة #رحمة #اكسبلور_فولو #اكسبلور #انمي #اوتاكو #انستقرام #كاتبة #بقلمي (à 'Aïn Taya, Alger, Algeria) https://www.instagram.com/p/CBWMkxpne5U/?igshid=1iv5e67s0fl45

#instagood #instagram #twitter #writting #my_writing #explore #anime #otaku #silentvoice #positivevibes #الايجابية #تحرر #مرأة #كتاباتي_الخاصة #رحمة #اكسبلور_فولو #اكسبلور #انمي #اوتاكو #انستقرام #كاتبة #بقلمي

[antenoracocytus]

الطين يملأ الشارع .. الساعة الثانية بعد منتصف الليل .. حيث الوقت متأخر جدا لوجود الأسر و الفتيات و مبكر جدا لوجود مصلي الفجر ..

الطين يملأ الشارع .. و الحثالة و السكارى يبدأون نوبات مجونهم ..

أنا لست حثالة و لست سكير و لكني أيضا لا أسرة لي و لا أصلي الفجر ..

لنسمي حالتي إذا سقط مجتمعي .. أنا جنين مجهض ... أنا أنصاف حلول و أنصاف حالات .. أنا نصف بشر

البشر يخافون مني ...حتى الحثالة و السكيرة ...

عيني الواحدة تلمع في ضوء القمر و فمي المخوخ من الأسنان ينفرج عن ثقب كفم حوت .. أنا ككلاب الشوارع ..

البشر يخافون أما الكلاب فلا

أنا كلب و لكن ذهني لا يزال حاضرا لحسن حظي او لسوئه

تمر سيارة مسرعة يتقاظف منها الصياح وسط علو صوت المسجل ...

تمر محدثة طرطشات في برك المطر و المجاري

يعقبها رجل يسير مهرولا و هو يلتحف معطفه الذي يبدي من تحته ثوب الأطباء ..

هو طبيب إذا عائد من نوبته ليس زبونا

يتقاطع مع هرولته مراهق ينفث الدخان من فمه

جميعهم يمرون و أنا جالس أتحسس جيبي الثمين

يدعونني العراب ... و لكني لست عرابا هذا لقب فقط .. كباقي الألقاب السخيفة التي لا معنى لها

الإسم يفقد المرء هويته .. يحوله من كيان إلى مجموعة أحرف متراصة .. بعكس الأرقام

في السجن يعطونك رقما و سروالا أزرق و قميصا بنفس اللون ...

تتوه وسط دوامات القمصان الزرقاء الأخرى .. و مع ذلك تحافظ على هويتك .. على رقمك ..على كيانك المتفرد وسط باقي السجناء

في السجن حيث تسلب حرية الجسد .. تعود الروح حرة

الفتى المراهق يدور حول نفسه يتلفت يمنة و يسرى .. ينفث دخان سيجارته مرتعدا

أراه يقترب منى ببطئ ممزوج بحذر

يتفحص وجهي مرتعدا ..

"أأنت العراب"

لا ينتظر إجابة و يتابع حديثه متلعثما "أريد شريطي ترامادول"

أخرج من جيبي شريطا واحدا

ينظر إليه و لا يطالب بالآخر .. فقط يقول " لست مدمنا أنت تعلم .. أربده للمذاكرة أنت تعلم"

يكرر أنت تعلم و كأنها حقيقة كونية .. أنا أعلم شيئا .. أنه يلتمس عذرا لنفسه

هنا لا مكان للأعذار .. لا مكان للأحكام .. نحن هنا أخوة .. في عالم بعد منتصف الليل ..هنا لا تسري علينا قواعد البشر نحن حراس الجنان و زبانية جهنم ..نحن كلاب المطر.. نحن العرابون إن شئت أن تسمينا

أومئ له رفعا للحرج و عطفا على وجله .. يعطيني ورقة واحدة من فئة مئتين و بهرول بعيدا

#my_writing #my_thing #picasso #dealer #my stuff

[feneriareina]

Quiero hacer una cultura y un culto grandísimo sólo, usando casi solo literatura, música, dibujo y algunos videojuegos.

Quiero que se vuelva real para siempre

#my_writing #drawing #literature #my draws

[skepsiss]

Steve and Eddie being each other's first queer kiss, but they don't fall in love instantly with each other. It's real freaking awkward and they're both like "that was weird" and quietly move on.

But... they remain friends of course and as the years pass and partners come and go from their lives both Steve and Eddie (privately) are falling deeper and deeper in love with one another. It feels like something that will never work out, so neither of them act on it, but the more time they spend together the more they like one another. A love that is not on sight, but built through hours spent together and learning all of each other's complexities and flaws. That is what makes them fall in love with one another. That is what leads to 3am phone calls and goodbyes that take an hour. That is what will eventually lead to kiss number 2 which will topple into a real romance.

#my_writing #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #musing

[maya-tl]

Hm?... maybe something about Medic trying to find the right time to propose to Spy but ended finding Spy was also planning the perfect proposal moment. Cuz that might be a good fanfic?

(sorry to bother you, it's also my first time to ask someone with sheer confidence— )

They had talked of marriage before.

They had talked, oh yes, but they had been new and fragile then, a bloom waiting for either the right rains to make it blossom or the right drought to make it wither. The topic of marriage had been a simple conversation starter, something to keep them awake through the night when sleep didn’t matter.

Medic had been married before. An arranged thing, something his parents had agreed to in his stead—she had been too tame, too traditional for him, and he too wild, too sharp, too different, too much for her. It had been a bitter and miserable affair, a laughable attempt at normalcy, and in the end the only thing they had ever agreed on was that they weren’t for each other.

Spy’s story was a different one. He had loved her, certainly—the proof was right in front of their eyes, loud and brash with a side of Bostonian fire—but they had never been in love, and she had never asked him for more than he could give despite everything it would have meant for her.

“I would’ve stayed,” Spy had told him in the quiet of the night, looking more vulnerable than Medic had ever seen him, “I would’ve given it all up and settled, spent all my remaining days in that house with her if she only said the word. I would’ve been comfortable.”

Medic had simply turned to face him and whispered, “But would you have been happy?”

Spy had fallen silent. Looking at his tortured profile in the moonlight slipping through the window, Medic knew it was as close to a confession as he would ever get. They hadn’t spoken about marriage since, even as the months turned into years and they learned everything there was to know about each other, even after they swore their teammates to secrecy and stopped hiding themselves behind closed doors and false pretences.

Medic had looked at him one New Year’s celebration, just as the clock hit midnight and their team erupted into cheers in the background, had watched Pyro’s fireworks dance off his eyes and highlight the curve of his soft smile and decided that he was the one. He was his only choice, his forever after, his today and all of his tomorrows.

The engagement ring came a month and a half later—he’d had it custom-made, of course, and spent a fortune on the design and a little under a fortune on the jeweller’s silence. Spy had told him once that he wasn’t too fond of golden accessories and found that silver tones better complimented his complexion, and so Medic had kept that in mind and gone in the opposite direction of tradition. He’d chosen a split-band, beautifully carved platinum ring inlaid with white moissante and topped with a one-of-a-kind, trillion-cut blue diamond.

When he first held it up to the light it shone like a rainbow in the water, so brilliant it left him blinking spots from his vision. It was perfect. He set it within a thin, royal blue velvet ring box, also custom-made so he could easily conceal it, and then went about trying to do the actual proposal.

Trying being the key word. He didn’t debate much over the words he would say—a simple ‘marry me’ would be more than enough for Spy, who would appreciate the gesture far more than the words themselves—or even the place—ideally somewhere private enough that they were unlikely to be interrupted. No, that was all fine. It wasn’t even that he was nervous.

It was the timing.

He couldn’t do it on the battlefield. The tides of a battle could turn at any moment and there were too many things to focus on, such as crushing the enemy and not dying. Medic himself had to keep an eye on all his teammates and Spy had to keep an eye on all their assailants, and even if they somehow got a moment to themselves in the middle of the carnage the atmosphere simply wasn’t right.

He couldn’t do it during dinner. Besides not being private in the slightest, the team ate all of their meals together and one of them was bound to do something inappropriate the moment Medic pulled out the ring box and ruin the whole thing. Spy would immediately catch on if he made a big deal out of them dining alone too, so that option went out the window early on.

He couldn’t do it in public, much as he’d like to treat Spy to a fancy meal at a fine restaurant and a walk in the park at sunset. The world, sadly, just wasn’t ready for that.

He couldn’t do it in the bedroom. No one would interrupt them, sure, and it was as intimate as it got, but Medic was more than familiar with Spy’s complicated history of setting apart the pleasures of the body from the feelings of the heart. They’d gone down that road before, and the last thing Medic wanted to do was to blur that line again now.

The time of day mattered too. Medic didn’t want to do it in plain daylight or in the middle of the night, even if proposing under the stars was tempting. Spy struggled with insomnia, and preferred sunsets over sunrises besides, so an early morning proposal didn’t feel quite right.

It was maddening.

It also didn’t help that their schedules had begun to conflict lately. Medic knew the reason for his own odd behaviour, late nights spent agonising over the right moment disguised as research projects, and had initially assumed that Spy was going through one of his distance phases. Medic tended to be very hands-on in every aspect of his life, and while Spy welcomed and often even encouraged that, he’d made it very clear that sometimes he simply needed his space. So Medic hadn’t questioned it much, willing to wait it out for a few days—it gave him more time to think and plan.

By the time a week had rolled by, he began to suspect that something else was up. Spy wasn’t exactly avoiding him, they spent roughly the same amount of time together, but there were—quirks in his behaviour that hadn’t been there previously. Medic, who was well-versed in his moods, picked up on them easily, but it was significantly more difficult for him to figure out Spy’s train of thought than it was for Spy to figure out his, no matter how close they were. Only one of them had been trained in espionage all their life.

When he returned to his room from another late afternoon spent in the lab—actually researching this time, more to take his mind off things than to achieve any scientific breakthrough—and found Spy’s suit jacket folded over the desk chair, but no actual sign of Spy, he decided that he’d waited long enough. If the right moment never came, so be it. Neither of them were getting any younger, despite his best efforts and the effects of the respawn system.

He took off his gloves and his coat and hung them in their proper place in the closet, stuffed the ring box in the folds of the front pocket of his pants and set off. It was almost dinnertime and it was Engineer’s turn to cook, so most of his teammates would be swarming the kitchen, which gave him the opportunity to search the base at his leisure.

Spy wasn’t in his own bedroom or his smoking room, or in the firing range, and Medic knew he wouldn’t be hanging around in the living room when he could be fashionably late to dinner. That left only one place that Medic knew he frequented.

The sky was alive with the colours of sunset, soft pinks and warm oranges and fiery reds. A light breeze was cruising over the desert, making the few scattered trees growing near their base shiver and the tumbleweeds dance on the nearest horizon, and the tors and mesas burned like a mirage under the light of the lowering sun.

Spy was leaning against the railing of the balcony, his back turned to the door, and he didn’t acknowledge Medic beyond the miniscule tensing and then relaxing of his shoulders. His tie was loose and the top button of his undershirt undone, which Medic found out when he snaked his arms around his waist and leaned down to press his mouth to his skin.

“Something on your mind, mein schatz?” he murmured, and Spy hummed. He turned his head, allowing them to touch foreheads.

“Many things, lately,” Spy said, too casual to be genuine, “Have you had any success?”

“Success?”

“With your experiments,” Spy said, and Medic caught a knowing glint in his half-lidded eyes, “The reason you have been spending most nights in the laboratory, non?”

Medic huffed out a laugh. His heart felt full. “No,” he said, unable to stop himself from smiling, “Not quite.”

Pop, came a noise, and Spy looked down. Medic held up the box to the light, and the platinum ring glimmered giddily under the rays of sunset, casting shimmering reflections over its soft velvet cushion. The blue diamond shone like a miniature star set into the band—the same colour as Spy’s eyes.

Spy’s head snapped back up, and there was shock there as he searched Medic’s expression for any trace of deceit. Medic knew he wouldn’t find any even if he tried to make it up, as he sometimes did in his more paranoid moments—and indeed Spy seemed to realise this was not some overly complicated prank, because a sheen came over his eyes, and he seemed torn on whether to cry or laugh.

Medic gave his waist a reassuring squeeze. “Marry me,” he said, two words that for them meant a thousand things.

Spy choked out a little laugh and then shook his head as if in disbelief, and for a split moment Medic thought—

But then it was his turn to look on in shock as Spy reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet box, revealing an exquisite rose gold ring set with swirling gemstones of a dark and rich red sitting prettily on a white silk cushion.

“There was a manufacturing issue, so it only arrived last week,” Spy said, voice choked up with emotion. Medic thought of how tired and stressed Spy had looked up until the previous week. “I was debating on a time and place, but I—I didn’t think—”

Medic surged forward and pulled him into a deep kiss, and their respective boxes dug into their ribcages as their bodies met in the middle.

“Hey guys, Engie says—what the fuck—”

They broke apart with a gasp, and Scout yelped as Spy shoved him back into the hallway and slammed the door in his face with enough force to make the building shudder. “I’m being proposed to!” he yelled indignantly, and Medic felt his cheeks begin to hurt from all the smiling he was doing.

Spy swivelled back around, ring box still in his hand, and pulled Medic in by the collar of his shirt. “Ask me again,” he whispered against his lips. Medic could do nothing but laugh, and he kissed him one more time just to feel him smile.

“Marry me,” he said.

“Yes,” came the answer, and the sky bled colour behind them as the sun sunk beneath the line of the horizon, signalling the end of today and the dawn of another, brighter tomorrow.

#my_inbox #mehsquid #my_writing #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 gentle surgery #tf2 medic #tf2 spy #I am biting and gnashing my teeth like a rabid animal hoooooo #best fucking request I've ever received in my whole time writing fic I sweaaaarrr. they're motherfucking MARRIED. #(I mean technically not yet but y'all get my point) #this was such a joy to write you have no idea. it's 6 am and I haven't slept a wink because I couldn't stop writing. #this has fulfilled all my needs #I'm soooo weak for proposals and marriage and happily ever afters hoooo *passes out* #thank you for your request fr!! this wasn't a bother in any way shape or form! I hope you like it! <3

[piecake-dbd]

And if you needed proof That humans are a little crazy Well just look around At the show, at the train, in the crowd Little pocket universes, a million miles away Like ghosts passing by in an elaborate dance Waiting for just a little spark of excitement To draw their attention together

#spilled ink #poem #poetry #writing #my_writing

[fumi-gogo]

Mercy Left Behind

With the recent Retribution comic release, a lot of my story head-cannons are still in tact with the characters who end up in Talon are actually working to stop a corrupt overwatch leadership (Higher up than Morrison, such as Director Petras).

This is a short chapter but I wrote it as a quick set-up to the events that Angela experiences immediately following Retribution.

[CLICK HERE TO READ ON AO3]

I looked at the clock on the wall, it was nearly 3 AM; surely no-one else in the lab was awake. I stood and let out a groan as I stretched out the tense muscles in my body from top to bottom. I looked at the clock again, 3:01.

I collected a few loose research notes onto a clipboard and  made my way to the cafeteria for a snack. Humming to myself, I began thinking about the next steps to my work on medical nano-technology, the Overwatch research team had made amazing breakthroughs through the past months. Ways for metals and organic material to slowly regenerate on their own. It was hardly ready for any kind of practical field use, but we were getting there.

I turned a corner and saw that the lights were on in Dr. O’Deorain's old office, glancing through the frosted glass on the doors I could see two silhouettes.

Muttering under my breath, “Pardon…?” I pulled on the door handle.

There were hushed voices for a moment and then immediate silence. The closest individual was standing and facing away, but I immediately noticed Commander Reyes sitting on the exam table adjusting his shirt as if he had just put it back on.

“Ah, Doctor Ziegler.” The chilling, slow voice came from the tall standing figure.

Moira turned her head slowly to glance sideways at me. My stomach dropped, Ive never had a good feeling when she was around. She turned her head back towards the equipment next to her and threw something in a drawer and closed it.

Gabe hopped off the table and approached me, his calm smile putting me somewhat at ease again. “Angela! What are you doing up so late,” He pulled back Velcro on his wrist and checked the time. "Or so early? Wow, its 3 in the morning.”

“Oh, I was organizing research notes for the Valkyrie project. We’ve gone through so many revisions and changes, Its hard to not keep working.” I gestured to my clipboard. I looked back at Moira who was now approaching as well. She was so tall and slender and kept her hands behind her back like she was hiding something. “What are you doing here at the Swiss branch?"

Moira curled her lips and parted them to speak but Gabe interrupted. “I invited her here for some TS Blackwatch projects. We started working this afternoon but just lost track of time.”

My mind began racing and I felt extremely uncomfortable. Moira is infamous for her blurred ethics and has been reprimanded too many times to count with fingers. I wasn’t sure if experiments in the middle of the night for Blackwatch was better or worse with the program suspended at the moment.

“Why was I not consulted instead?” My eyes were locked with O’Deorain’s as I asked. I regretted the question as soon as she re-applied her fiendish smile. “I mean, Im Chief medical officer for this branch, this is the first I’ve heard of any Blackwatch projects.”

Gabe brushed a finger over his eyebrow and spoke up again. "Im so sorry, Angela. I can’t tell you anything right now. This is on a need-to-know, despite security clearances. The voices in charge have selected Dr. O’Deorain for this project."

I sighed. Gabe…You are the voice in charge for Black watch.

I took a step back into the doorway, taking my leave. “I understand, sorry for intruding. Commander Reyes, Dr. Odeorain.” I gave a small nod to each of them and turned out the door, hearing the smallest chuckle from Moira before the door closed. My face warming up and my heart beating faster, I swiftly made my way back to my office and locked the door. I clutched my chest and let my clipboard drop to the floor.

Oh my god. What is going on.

#overwatch #fanfic #fic #mercy #moira #reaper #my_writing

[jonnestt]

tech support

Telephone beeping… clickclick. An unknown voice answers: “Hello, tech support of thismortalcoil how can I help you?” “Hi, I’ve bought one of your products” I explain “about 21 years ago and I wasn’t aware that it comes with a contract… actually I’m pretty sure I wasn’t aware enough to Legally buy anything or sign any contracts back then. So, naturally I’d like to terminate that contract.” A moment of silence, then they answer: “Oh. I’m not sure if I can follow but I would gladly look into our system if we sold the product in question.” “Sure fam,” I answer “it is a ‘mortal coil’ model ‘human’ from the line ‘germany - earth - MW’ and then there are namings of galaxy clusters” They intervene “Those aren’t needed, we never serviced humans anywhere outside the milky way.” “So you do offer support for those.” I ask, which they quickly answer with “Yes, yes, of course. Now, I’d like to view your customer profile. Would you tell me the name of your MC?” “Sure, ‘Johannes Albert Berger’.” I lay open, which prompts typing sounds. “Berge… ahh, yes I see,” they answer “this one of a kind model came with, let’s see… Ah here, a membership to ‘social - germany 1990 plus’ and a use contract that allows full excess to neural systems in exchange obliges you to use the model for fourteen hours a day, each day for the entire time of ownership.” “Yea, exactly that contract, how do I terminate it?” I ask, “One second.” they urge, as they start clicking over their keyboard once again, “looks like the only way out is to terminate ownership permanently.” I recoil: “That can’t be right. Could I transfer ownership somehow?” “... With a human…” They think audibly, “I’m sure we have a program for that… although humans are currently not in high demand, you might need to find a new owner yourself.” “That’s going to be kinda hard” I explain in disaccord “considering I have to spend about 14 hours each day using the model.” “You might have wanted to think of that before acquiry.” They react. Which I refute saying: “I… I wasn’t conscious back then. There was literally no thinking to do for me.” before inhaling audibly and saying “Ok, do you have a legal department?” “We do take legal complaints,” they explain “but I’ll have to advice not to leave one.” “I should have a closed case here.” I retort, which they answer with “How so?” as if there was a blatant oversight in that statement. So of course I snap back in explanation: “Well, I wasn’t conscious when this contract was signed, therefore the contract must be null.” thou they counter effectively “Hm, we’ve had some similar complaints… especially this year but non got through.” Throwing me into a loop “That doesn’t seem correct…” “No, I can assure you” they answer, “it is. Legal action is entirely unnecessary.” “Fuck.” I reply. After a moment they ask: “Does that clear up all questions?” beat I give back “Yea, seems so… but, you seem rather open about things concerning your company.” “To help customers is my job, sir.” They answer, at which I respond with “Indeed.” before asking, “Would you tell me if there are any commonly used loopholes?” And surprisingly they answer, “As I said, to help customers is my job.” and continue “But sadly only ownership transfer seems possible based on my experience.” “That’s unfortunate…” sounds back my answer, “but it should have cleared all questions, thanks.” before I hang up.

#writing #creative writing #tech support #phone call #this mortal coil #meirl #2020 be like #my_writing

[mercy-thought]

🌿💛 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ___________________________#كتاباتي #كتب #كتاب #كتاباتي_الخاصة #رحمة #اكسبلور_فولو #اكسبلور #انمي #اوتاكو #انستقرام #كاتبة #instagood #instagram #twitter #writting #my_writing #explore #anime #otaku #silentvoice (à 'Aïn Taya, Alger, Algeria) https://www.instagram.com/p/CBQZ_J-HO4z/?igshid=nrpniuit7bqm

#كتاباتي #كتب #كتاب #كتاباتي_الخاصة #رحمة #اكسبلور_فولو #اكسبلور #انمي #اوتاكو #انستقرام #كاتبة #instagood #instagram #twitter #writting #my_writing #explore #anime #otaku #silentvoice