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[turtle-writes]

New Work!!

This is my first fic in the Harry Potter fandom! If the summary below sounds like something you’d like, please check it out!

The Ancient and most Noble house of Black has many ghosts cast out and lost to time. However, life has a funny way of coming back to us, unearthing the secrets we'd rather keep buried when the past comes back to haunt us. All his life Regulus has been taught one thing: Family is what matters most. No one ever taught him there were exceptions to that.

Does contain OCs

[turtle-writes]

The Hole in the Penitentiary Wall Chapter Two

1865, Port Arthur, Tasmania. The penitentiary at Port Arthur is known for housing some of the British Empire's most hardened criminals. If Satya was smart, she would've left as soon as she realized she was standing outside the renowned prison's walls, perhaps written to the warden about the missing brick. But she didn't. Now, she's bringing books and fruit to an arsonist who hasn't spoken to anyone in four years. This is a rewrite of "The Burning Sheep" because fifteen year old me didn't have a clue. Some parts are the same, many are different, hopefully it doesn't contain as much garbage.

[turtle-writes]

The Burning Sheep Rewrite

At the time I first uploaded The Burning Sheep, I was fresh into high school. I thought I A) knew how to write and B) knew how to do research and guess what? I didn’t really know how to do either. I probably still don’t. However, I am still very devoted to the overall idea I built the burning sheep on, so here’s to hoping the rewrite is a little better. Some things are the same, a lot of things are different, I hope you like it!

Summary: 1865, Port Arthur, Tasmania. The penitentiary at Port Arthur is known for housing some of the British Empire's most hardened criminals. If Satya was smart, she would've left as soon as she realized she was standing outside the renowned prison's walls, perhaps written to the warden about the missing brick. But she didn't. Now, she's bringing books and fruit to an arsonist who hasn't spoken to anyone in four years.

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You were supposed to be Chicken Soup

“What did you do!” The thing stuck in the pot on the stove spat, sparks flicking off its breath dangerously close to the goop covered cabinets. The man flipped furiously through the cookbook. He was working on a masters in chemistry, how could he have messed this up so badly?

“I don’t know! You were supposed to be chicken soup!”

“Soup?” The thing glared, it’s deep violet skin growing darker as it’s golden eyes turned burnt orange, then red. “Does this like look like soup you simple minded fiend? Send me back!”

“Ok, I’m sorry!” The man took a step back and pointed at the thing. “Carpe diem!” The thing raised a silver eyebrow, growling.

“Sieze the day?” It said quietly. “You like that, do you? How about I sieze you!” It lunged and the man leapt back, but because the thing still had its legs stuck in the pot, it hit the floor with a loud clang. The eye of the stove glowed brightly as the rotten smelling red and grey goop that had at one point been broth and vegetables burned and began smoking. Cursing, the man rushed across the room to fan the fire alarm, which indignantly began wailing.

“What is that infernal smell?” The voice came from the hall.

“Grandma!” The man abandoned the alarm and stepped in front of the door way. “Go back upstairs, everything’s fine.” The older woman scowled.

“Move. You’re burning the house down.” The thing in the pot howled from inside the kitchen followed by a crunch and the sound of metal hitting metal. His grandmother frowned.

“What on earth?” She shoved past her grandson. When she took in the state of the kitchen, a grin overtook her face.

“Mammon!” The thing in the pot stopped trying to break free with the broken handle and looked up, eyes wide.

“Linda?” The man could scarcely believe what he was seeing as his grandmother threw her arms around the thing in the pot, which began to thrash. His grandmother pulled away.

“Don’t be like that, you know I’m a hugger.” The thing snorted before glaring back at the man.

“I suppose this imbecile is your offspring?” The old woman nodded and walked back, pinching her grandson’s cheek. The man felt his cheeks grow warm.

“Isn’t he the cutest? You know, Belphagor would probably like him.” The thing studied him for a moment and huffed.

“Belphagor would find him adequate. Now send me back, I was in the middle of dinner when this sniveling witchling summoned me.” The man’s grandmother raised an eyebrow.

“Let me guess. Politician with pomegranate?” The thing smiled, exposing four rows of needle sharp teeth.

“Lawyer with linguine.” The old woman walked to the pantry and grabbed the box of salt.

“Well, we wouldn’t want to keep you from your dinner. Safe travels.” With that, she dumped the box of salt over the thing’s head. Seconds later, the thing and the red and grey goop covering the cabinets disappeared in a poof of scarlet smoke. The man turned to his grandmother.

“Witchling?”

“Why don’t we discuss this in the basement?” His grandmother smiled and the man could’ve sworn her teeth looked sharper than before.

Original prompt from promptuarium

[turtle-writes]

Bunnyribbit Drabble!

Here’s the Tsundere D.Va Drabble requested by @teh-cat-man ! This was an interesting challenge for me, as it’s very different from how I usually write D.Va, but I got a lot out of it, thank you for the request, I hope you like it!

It was a fact of life that Lucio loved his girlfriend. It was a fact of life that he was an affectionate person. Cuddles, hugs, little kisses on the cheek or nose, he loved it all. Sadly, it was also a fact of life that Hana was not so affectionate. Sure, she let him rest his head in her lap while she played videogames and she had no issues with him pressing against her side as they listened to music, but she offered almost no response to any of it. She would laugh and shake her head at his sillier advancements and pull away blushing if he kissed her randomly. She had her own ways of showing affection. Her affection was shown in little ways that some may not pick up immediately, but Lucio now recognized easily.

This was one of those times. To be honest, the accident was his fault. He’d been sliding in his socks on the landing before falling down the watch point stairs. Other than a little disorientation and a knot on his hip that would most definitely be a lovely shade of purple tomorrow, he was perfectly fine. Yet Hana had come running in from the other room and, despite numerous protests, scooped him up and was now carrying him up the stairs towards the medbay.

“I can walk, you know. You can put me down now.” Lucio pointed out, knowing it was futile. Once Hana made her mind up, there was no unmaking it.

“Nope. You could have a concussion. I don’t want you to fall again.” She dismissed curtly as they approached the medical and research wing.

“I didn’t even hit my head.” Her cheeks turned a shade of pink closer to that of the whiskers she painted on her face everyday.

“Shut up.” She muttered quietly. Lucio expected she hadn’t thought through picking him up before she’d done so and raced up the stairs. The thought that she had been worried enough that that had been her first instinct brought a small smile to his lips. She was so silly sometimes.

The door to the medbay slid open and Hana deposited him into a chair as Mercy poked her head into the room, worried expression appearing as she saw Hana setting him into the chair.

“Lucio? Is something wrong?” Lucio waved a hand and smiled sheepishly.

“I’m fine, Dr. Ziegler, no worries!”

“He fell down the stairs.” Corrected Hana, shooting him a look.

“You fell down the stairs? Did you sprain an ankle? What all did you hit?” Angela was now on her way over to the two, pulling up Lucio’s records on a holopad as she effortlessly swapped from team mom Angela to medical professional Angela.

“Just my hip, it’s not bad. Someone’s just a little worried.” He looked pointedly at Hana who gave him a half-hearted glare.

“I’m fine, I promise.” Angela studied him for a moment.

“Walk to the other side of the room for me?” Lucio jumped up from the chair and leisurely walked across the medbay tile before jogging back. Hana huffed and turned her head towards the door. Angela smiled, amused as she closed out of his records.

“I think you’re fine. Still, it was good of you to find me, better to be safe than sorry.” Lucio nodded, taking Hana’s hand and pulling her towards the exit.

“Thanks Dr. Ziegler!”

The door shut. Lucio started down the corridor but suddenly found himself pulled into the death grip embrace of his girlfriend. When the surprise wore off, he happily returned the hug, wrapping his arms across her back and shoulders. The moment ended sooner than he would have liked, but it was still worth it.

“Don’t do that again.” She chided with all the intimidation of an annoyed squirrel. Lucio grinned, following her down the hall.

“Hug you or fall down the stairs?” The grumble he got in return sent a laugh bubbling through his chest.

An outsider might think that Hana didn’t love him, but Lucio knew better. If she didn’t love him, she wouldn’t make him tea and listen to him talk when he had a bad day. She may not appear to care, but no one else on base knows exactly how he drinks his coffee or how to tell when he really does need time to himself. She hovers over him for days if he’s the slightest bit injured on a mission and never fails to appear in the hangar if he’s gone on a mission without her. Hana may not love outwardly, but Lucio knows she loves him completely.

[turtle-writes]

To Angela’s dismay, Moira has always been a morning person.

[turtle-writes]

Moira always thought she knew what it meant to be mortal. She never realized how wrong she was until mortality caught up with her.

[turtle-writes]

Moicy drabble

Moicy drabble for @imssavv I hope you like it! It’s a little longer than I intended, but it was fun to write!

Angela Ziegler was a miracle. Moira had thought so from day one when the cute blonde doctor had welcomed her to Overwatch’s research team. Angela had smiled, greeted her warmly with a handshake, and Moira fell hard. The following chat and coffee only made it worse. How could she not love the woman? She was kind, bright, and interesting and she listened to Moira talk about her passions with unfeigned interest. There was no way such a woman could exist.

Moira had never denied her feelings for the doctor. She was quick to accept her crush, hoping it would pass with time, but resigned herself to the facts after a year had passed. She loved Angela, and it was hardly fathomable that Angela could love her in return. That was why Moira was currently giving the blonde a difficult time about the thermal cycler she’d borrowed after her own had malfunctioned.

“Moira, I need it back. I know you’ve finished with it and your order for a new one arrives tomorrow. I have research I need it for.” Moira raised an eyebrow, not looking up from the tissue sample under her microscope.

“Pray tell, Angela. What does a scientist studying nanotechnology need with a thermal cycler?” New cells synthesized within the sample under her microscope. The synthesis had become faster, but not fast enough.

“I’m not using it for nanotechnology. I’m designing a treatment for Genji to improve his sense of taste. The artificial receptors I implemented aren’t working as they should.” Moira looked up and spun her chair to face her coworker.

“I’m assuming whatever treatment you’re designing is genetic? Thermal cyclers aren’t used for much else. Perhaps I could be of assistance?” Moira hoped she could. Since being moved to Blackwatch, she rarely had any contact with Overwatch scientists. Interdepartmental projects in which she got to work with Angela were few and far between. She had no other excuse to spend time with the doctor. Her hope dwindled when a hesitant look crossed the other’s features.

“Are you certain?” The cobalt irises Moira so often admired were tinged with worry.

“You’ve seemed so busy with what research you’ve been working on. I didn’t want to bother you.” Moira folded her hands in her lap, adopting what she hoped was a pleasant smile. She would always have time for Angela.

“Not at all. I could use a break from my current project. I would be happy to offer my expertise if you so desire.” A smile rose to Angela’s face. Moira loved it when she smiled. Her eyes would light up and crinkle at the corners and it made Moira’s heart race.

“I would love that. When can I give you the details?” Moira checked her watch. It was a quarter past four, not too much time before dinner.

Wait.

Dinner.

No, that was a terrible idea.

She couldn’t do that.

Could she?

Before Moira had a chance to change her mind, she straightened her coat and turned to her coworker.

“Would you like to meet me for dinner this evening? Six fifteen perhaps? We could discuss the details then and start work tomorrow.” Immediately after the words left her mouth, Moira was mentally kicking herself. Dinner? Such a request was hardly professional. What had she been thinking?

The circling self-berating came to a halt when Angela nodded eagerly.

“That sounds wonderful! Should I meet you in the Atrium?” Suppressing the heat threatening to take over her cheeks, Moira nodded.

“Brilliant. I’ll see you then.”

If Moira broke into a happy dance after the doctor left, no one was there to see it.

…………………

Moira was radiant. Angela had thought so from the day she’d gone to welcome the research department’s new geneticist. She’d caught sight of the handsome woman in the hall and immediately turned back so as not to be caught like an awkward teenager blushing furiously in the presence of an attractive classmate. And Moira wasn’t just attractive. She had an angular face with sharp cheek bones and a jawline carved by the most skilled of renaissance sculptors. Her eyes, though mismatched, were almost childlike in their expression, and never in her life had Angela seen someone more made to wear a suit. She had a brilliant mind and so much passion for her work that Angela couldn’t help but get caught up in it.

This is why Angela was having a breakdown in front of her closet struggling to pick out an outfit. Honestly, it was just dinner. Dinner to discuss work no less. It absolutely was not a date and Angela had no right to make it one. Still, there was that infuriating little voice that sounded suspiciously like Lena in the back of her head that told her it could be.

Honestly, how could she think Moira would ever consider her as a potential partner? She didn’t even know if Moira was attracted to women. And even if she was, there was no guarantee she was Moira’s type.

Angela sighed, pulling an unassuming, unembellished, black dress from her closet. A girl could hope. She’d like nothing better than for Moira to pull her into those freakishly long arms and hold her close, or to let Angela snuggle into her side on the sofa. She wanted to listen to her talk about her day and watch the fire in her eyes burn excitedly as she shared her latest project. She wanted to love her and be able to tell her she was loved every day. But that was better left as a dream. It was unlikely such fantasy would become reality. Angela had a hopeless crush and could foresee no end to her struggling.

……………..

Moira glanced at her watch for what felt like the thousandth time. She had arrived in the atrium fifteen minutes early, and despite knowing Angela would likely show up in the next ten minutes, Moira’s stomach was twisting upwards and into her chest.

Honestly, she shouldn’t be so nervous. They were just discussing an interdepartmental project. The thought sent a burst of irrational happiness blooming throughout her chest. She loathed and loved that queer little phenomenon. And she knew once the night was over that bout of happiness would be equaled by disappointment.

“Hey! You’re early!” Moira definitely didn’t trip turning around to face the voice. Moira O’Deorain does not trip. But the laugh Angela gives at her startle may change her mind. Her laughter, a catalyst that amplified the pleasant warmth in her chest, would be worth the chip to her pride.

“I’m sorry.” the doctor laughed as her giggles faded to an amused smile. Her hair had been released from its tail and the lithe frame usually hidden under a lab coat now made an appearance cloaked in a well-fitting dress.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Moira tried her best to shove down the heat rising to her cheeks. She was too cute.

“No harm, no foul, doctor.” Moira smiled, hoping her expression wasn’t as idiotic as she felt and offered Angela her arm, realizing too late that the gesture was too forward.

“Shall we be going? I am curious about this little project of yours.” The doctor accepted the gesture, intertwining her own arm with Moira’s.

“Of course! I’m very excited to tell you about it!” Moira couldn’t keep the blush from her face.

Little did either of them know, they had an audience, pushing and shoving each other in an attempt to get a better look through the blinds in the office of one Captain Ana Amari.

“It’s a fucking date Morrison! The last time she wore that waistcoat was when your ecologist set her up with that Oasis professor! Pay up!” Jack nudged the Blackwatch commander aside and squinted at the exiting figures of the two women.

“Can’t be. They’ve been walking circles around each other for over a year. At least another month before they get with the program.”

“I know my people, Morrison. It’s. A. Fucking. Date.”

“Hm. I wouldn’t be too sure about that Gabriel.” Both men looked over to where Ana sat, casually flipping through the Blackwatch lab security footage and sipping at a mug of tea.

“It appears as though it’s work related, however,” Ana smirked as she rewound the footage. The holoscreen showed Moira asking Angela to dinner earlier that day.

“I believe it was Moira who extended the dinner invitation. Should they return with plans for a proper outing, I expect my winnings by next Tuesday.”

[turtle-writes]

Junkmetra Coffee Shop Drabble + News

I’ve been having trouble writing updates for my two fics, so I’m taking a break to do some drabbles to see if I can’t push through the writers block. I’m thinking about opening up requests for a little while to write something I may not think to write myself and hopefully get the juices flowing again, if you’re interested, let me know what you think. Without further ado, here’s the Drabble!

————————-

“Good luck out there! Knock ‘em dead!”

Satya smiled at the sleeve of her grande cafe au lait. She’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t buy from this particular coffee shop just for the little encouraging notes the barista left on her cup. The skinny man who fixed her coffee every morning always greeted her with a smile and a wave when she walked in, not even bothering to ask what she wanted. She’d been coming here for almost six months, he already knew what she liked and that she was most definitely a creature of habit.

But the best part was definitely the notes on her coffee cup.

“Have a nice day!”

“Good luck changing the world!”

“Laugh today!”

The little encouraging phrases always put her in a good mood. She had started the habit of saving that day’s coffee sleeve and propping it up on her desk at work. If she lost a contract or was struggling to meet a deadline, taking a minute to reread the note and remember someone out there took the time to write it for her always made the stress easier to handle. Satya smiled to the receptionist as she entered the Vishkar & Co. office, ready to sweep the world off its feet.

————

It was raining. She’d left her umbrella at home and her hair and clothes were soaked. Stepping into the warmth of the cafe was like sinking into a warm bath and Satya briefly thought about calling in sick to work so she could bask in the cozy warmth and coffee smell that now surrounded her. Sadly, she had a design for a rather large project with a quickly approaching deadline at the office and it would be miserable if she put it off.

“G’day!” Called the barista. He handed her a clean white rag with her coffee and pointed to her hair.

“Be sure t’dry off ‘fore ya leave. Don’t want our best customer catch’in a cold now do we?” She smiled gratefully and accepted the rag and drink.

“Thank you. It is a dreary morning isn’t it?”

“Can’t say I agree.” He said with a toothy grin. “Depends on your definition o’ dreary.” Satya laughed.

“I suppose it would be nice to one spending the day here. Your shop is really a lovely establishment.” His eyes lit up.

“Thanks! Glad y’like it!” Another customer tapped their foot impatiently and Satya quickly excused herself, taking a seat so she could dry her hair and face before rushing out again into the downpour. Taking a sip of her coffee, she looked at her coffee sleeve for today’s note.

“You have a beautiful smile”

Satya looked back at the barista, who was busy helping another customer. This one was more personal than his usual notes. She felt the corners of her mouth creep upwards, but now the smile was accompanied by a warmth blooming in her chest. A blissful feeling of happiness.

Satya kept the coffee sleeve even after the day was over.

———-

The barista’s messages continued to grow more and more personal.

“Your eyes smile when you laugh.”

“Did you know you bite your lip when you concentrate? It’s cute.”

Once, instead of a note, there was a little cartoon of two dancing mice that she knew he had to have done before she arrived that morning.

Satya wondered if he did this for all of his customers.

———

Satya was late. Her alarm hadn’t gone off and she’d rushed out of the cafe, not looking at her coffee sleeve until her lunch break. But when she finally settled down to read the insulated ring of cardboard, there was no note.

Instead there was this:

Go on a date with me?

(xxx) xxx-xxxx

Jamison Fawks

It took a minute for Satya to process the words, but a smile slowly began to curl at her lips. She picked up her phone and dialed.