#al writes

[the-al-chemist]

Hush

This little story was written as part of @thethreebroomsticksfic’s Weasley Week 2023. Today, it’s all about Arthur and Molly, who in this scene find themselves with an empty nest. Enjoy.

Warnings: None, this is pure fluff.

September 1992

The Burrow was quiet, eerily so.

For as long as Molly could remember, noise had been her constant companion. She and Arthur had spent twenty-two years with their family growing around them, and their home had always been a place that hummed and thrummed with the comings-and-goings of everyday family life.

She had become so used to it that she could barely remember what quiet felt like. It turned out that quiet felt a lot like purposeless.

Earlier that day, the Weasleys had said goodbye to six children at Kings Cross Station. It was a goodbye that she was familiar with — she had been making it ever since Bill was eleven, after all — but this was the first time she had returned home without any of her children with her. Now, even little Ginny was at school, and she was left alone in this empty house that felt far bigger than her home.

In a vague, desperate bid to distract herself, she picked up her wool and began to knit, the repetitive clicking of the needles bringing her some much-needed respite from the oppressive hush of the room around her. She was so fixated on the task that she didn’t notice one hand of the nine-handed clock on the wall moving slowly to rest on the word “home”, and jumped at the sound of the door closing shut behind her husband.

“So, I went all over London,” Arthur told her as he made his way across the living room. “Couldn’t find the car anywhere. I can only think that…”

His voice tailed off and he frowned, looking around the room as if he were trying to find something.

“Did you rearrange the furniture?”

Not even looking up from her knitting, Molly shook her head. Her husband’s eyebrows furrowed deeper.

“Then what’s changed?” he asked. “Something seems different here.”

Molly knew exactly what was different, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. The loops on her needle seemed to blur, and she looked up at Arthur with eyes filling with tears. Arthur sighed. He had realised. He could hear it too, the near-silence that threatened to deafen them both.

“I’m not sure what to do with myself,” Molly told him in a voice that trembled with near-laughter. “There’s nothing that I need to do.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it? You can do whatever you like for once.”

Arthur was trying to reassure her, but his words did little to comfort Molly.

“I’m not even sure what I like to do anymore,” she confessed. “All I am good at is being a mother.”

“Well, that is simply not true,” said Arthur, taking off his glasses and cleaning them as he spoke. “I know for a fact that you are a spectacular dancer.”

“I haven’t danced in years, Arthur.”

Arthur smiled and pointed his wand at the wireless, which began to play a song by Celestina Warbuck.

“Then I think it’s high time we rectified this.” Arthur picked Molly’s knitting up from her lap and took both her hands in his own. “Will you dance with me, Mollywobbles?”

“I’m getting wobblier by the day,” she muttered as she stood up to join him.

“Oh, hush.”

Molly fell quiet, and danced slowly to the music with Arthur. As the tune reached its end, they continued to side-step without it.

“It’s not so bad, just being the two of us,” she heard Arthur murmur.

“I suppose it isn’t.”

“And there are plenty of other ways for us to fill our time now that we have the house to ourselves.”

There was an almost mischeivous glint in Arthur’s blue eyes that made Molly smile, her cheeks blushing like the schoolgirl she had been when they had first met. Arthur’s head bowed towards her, and she rose up slightly on her toes so that her lips could meet his.

But before they could, there was a loud crack from outside the window. A moment later, the door opened to reveal Molly and Arthur’s oldest son. They quickly moved away from one another.

“Bill, dear!” Molly exclaimed, self-consciously patting down her hair. “What are you doing here?”

“Came home to surprise you, didn’t I? Thought you two might be at your wits’ ends without the others at home to look after.” Bill hugged his parents in turn, before kicking off his boots and flumping himself down onto the sofa. “Have you two heard about the flying car they’ve been seeing going north? It was all over the Evening Prophet.”

Molly shot a dangerous look at her husband, whose face turned a brighter shade of red than his thinning hair. Apparently oblivious to his father’s discomfort, Bill swung his legs up and rested them on the sofa arm.

“So, Mum, what’s for dinner?”

It was with a small sigh that Molly made her way into the kitchen, pausing only to use her wand to tidy away her son’s shoes.

She should have known that this peculiar quiet would end up being too good to last.

[bandanabiel]

☆ Last Sentence Tag Game ☆

shout out to @conkopodwii for the tag!!

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote— be it fanfic, original writing, anything you’d like— and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence. That’s it!

“Cold promotes healing, supposedly, so Salem lets the shitass water pressure slide down his bruises with dignity.”

Realizing that I write some long-ass sentences and there’s no way I have 17 people I can tag, so I’ll just do my best. /nf!

@wesslan @greyquills @misterghostfrog @cacowhistle @awesamblr

[alyslaskeywriter]

I have a new writing buddy/distraction…

[writinredhead]

skysolo tattoo!AU ficlet i found on my google drive

I literally have no recollection of writing this as i haven't logged into my fanfic google drive account for literal years, but I think past-me did something fun here, so here it is for anyone interested

“Are you really sure about this?” Luke tore his eyes away from the neon sign of the tattoo parlor they were parked in front of and back at Han in the driver’s seat. He still didn’t think it was a good idea. Even for Han, it was pretty darn stupid, if you asked him. “It’s pretty permanent, after all.” 

Han rolled his eyes, let his head fall back at the head rest, then looked at Luke “Come on, buddy, give me a break. We’ve talked about it already.” 

“Yeah…” Luke fought the urge to pinch his nose. “If you count yesterday, telling me over lunch that you’re getting your car tattooed onto your body, then, yes, we did talk about it. Ugh, I can’t believe you’re making me come along for this madness.”   

“I called and they said they can’t let me drive home myself afterward. Who else should I ask, if not my best friend, huh?”

Han looked like he was seconds away from putting on that pout. That pout, that made Luke weak in the knees and agree to just about any idiocy Han came up with. He quickly turned back at the sign that proclaimed in blinking letters that the parlor was open. 

“You could have asked Leia? It’s summer break, she’s off too.” 

“Sure. Because asking my ex to drive me home from the tat shop sounds like such a good idea…”   

“You just didn’t ask her because she’d tell you exactly what a dumb idea this is and that you’re not to come crying to her when you're back to your senses. Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m wrong.”

Han did neither. Instead he muttered something unintelligible and took great interest in rearranging the pair of dice dangling from his rear view mirror. 

[silent-mysteriousguy]

*dropkicks into here*

I live

[ineedtherapist]

Dayum, It's been AGES and tbh I never thought I will ever came back but here I am alive and well (sadly).

Haven't write in ages tho so I'm starting off with my fav and slowly gonna work back up, gaining momentum and shi.

Hope y'all enjoy my two cents hhshsha

-al <3

Post Phantom Blood Robert

Robert general HCS Prt 1

Generally speaking, he's amazing. Like real type of amazing that people seldom realise since he's the side character and got outshine;

used by the plot to hype the main character.

The only different is that instead of Jonathan, bro got subscribed to a thick ass plot armor (unlike certain blonde 💀🙏🏻)

Robert who literally lived in Ogre Street.

Who make a living there, survived his childhood there which if anyone say it was an easy feat then ig we all are a certain high tech CEO thay bought a social media platform and banned artist compared to this young lad.

Ain't no way that's a small feat.

But then how did Robert did it?

That place was littered with scumbags and people doing cracks,it was criminals R&R with black market operating 24/7 like a damn 7-11.

And you're telling me, this hunk of a man managed to grow up somewhat save until he reached his adulthood?

"He's build a tank!"

My homies. To be able to even grow that damn big at that time where the police is as loose as the law whilst plague and poverty come hand-in-hand; and people's corpse piled up at the side of the street like a garbage heap is a work miracle itself.

Robert is smart. He's lucky and he got the looks and the charms needed to survive in that hellhole.

He didn't even come close to those who rule the Ogre Street but he's a convenient dog for those who did.

Know that place like the back of his hand. The people, the layout. Things that died and things that stay alive. Keep an eye out all the time and vigilant.

When, what, where, how. Those are the questions he always kept himself updated on. He know it and act upon it, waiting for the right time.

Robert act like a dog on a leash when in reality he's a stray one, pretending for the sake of survival.

An instinct one adapt in the harsh world where the strong devour the weak. Survival of the fittest.

Maybe he's a fallen noble, maybe he was already there the moment he opened his eyes but one thing remain the same for this man : he's alone. always is.

Has no one to rely on, to asked or question what was happening around him.

An orphan most definitely.

" Survive. Survive. Survive."

Like a broken tape, those words are repeated, buried deep inside his soul, become a part of him as he grew older.

Robert who's a smooth talker. A lady killer. An amazing conman yet never lied outside of necessities.

Robert whose mouth are as foul as it can be, even Dio seem like a saint compared to him.

And what makes the man so charming? The reason why one such as myself is deeply infatuated with him?

Robert was kind.

Despite living and growing up in a literal satan's den, he had always been kind.

Naturally, in order to survive, the line of his moralities start to blurred as the days passed and yet he didn't forget who he was.

Robert tried his best to survive and didn't yield to the others and then;

He met Jonathan

and that kind soul finally meet a reason to leave that place.

Before, he had nobody, no one to give his heart to. His loyalty. No reason to leave that place. A stray dog without an owner.

and then he met him.

Jonathan Joestar.

His saviour, his owner. The one whom he swore to be by his side no matter what happened.

Everything start to makes sense. Everything start to feel right. And his soul had never been more at peace more than anytime other than being by his side.

part 2...?

[berriblossom]

X fem reader, btw

Imagine your husband gains baby fever. He sees how you hold children, how you're so gentle and careful with them. How all your friends have children and talk about the joys and happiness they have with their little babies.

Imagine how he sees your disappointed smile about how you two don't have a little one yet.

This leads him to imagine what it would be like to have a little one around, how'd they cling onto you and their cute smile. How'd they look like a perfect mixture of the both of you. His perfect girl and his perfect child.

This leads to everytime he fucks your sweet pussy, he stays a little long before pulling out and spilling his hot cum onto your tummy and chest, whenever his cock is pushing into your womb he pushes his hand onto your tunny for you to feel him fucking your cervix and promising he'll give you that baby.

How many nights he'd have you ass up, face down as he fucks your pussy, pleading to you to let him get you pregnant. How sometimes in the middle of the night he'd eat you out in the middle of the night claming "he needed a taste before he filled you up again". Its so cute when he begs and pleads that he loves the look of your cunt leaking his cum.

How greedy he'd get when you cockwarm him, his thick, long cock throbbing just to fill you with his cum and get you pregnant. How'd he fantasize about your swollen tummy, your milk-filled breast just leaking your sweet milk for him to taste.

Goodness when you finally beg him to fuck a baby into him, hes already planning his next vacation at work for the next few weeks to give you that baby.

:WRIOTHESLEY, Ayato, ZHONGLI, JING YUAN, Blade, DAN HENG, Welt, THOMA, NEUVILLETTE, Childe, Luka, DILUC, ALHAITHAM

Its not a problem if i don't admit its one

[gatorinator]

HEYYY kids I need some help!! I've got this story I'm working on, and the knight I have has constantly quested and found 49 artifacts over his years. Awesome for him, but this means I need a list of 49 artifacts, some more fleshed out than others. If anyone has any ideas for artifacts, please share!! Some examples: Treasure of Ambor--glittering diamond necklace that allows the wearer to summon a creature as long as they know their name; Gauntlet of Gareth--a golden gauntlet made by a guy named Gareth that lets the wearer carry anything regardless of weight; Boris Blade--thirteen blades made by a prince who defeated a boar, and found in its stomach thirteen pearls (no magic here just cool knives).

[zhongrin]

festered wounds

— when you’ve never been the first choice your whole life, it’s hard to accept the possibility that you could be loved.

© zhongrin | 2023  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, this is more of a vent drabble, hurt with comfort, reader with massive insecurity issues, implied past trauma, slight blood & gore in the portrayal of ‘hurt’

✼ a/n ┈ this…. got really personal, haha. i wrote this in a bad headspace, so apologies if it got depressing or if it’s of a low quality. i didn't want to have this in my drafts and i certainly don't want to bring it to 2024 so i'm just posting this now.

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)  ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

“i’m sorry.”

zhongli’s heart dropped at the words escaping your lips. this was certainly the most unexpected response you could give to his confession, seeing the promising recent developments in your relationship — and so celestia forgive him, he had to pause to gather his thoughts. this made you fidget even more under his gaze, and so you succumbed to your frazzled nerves to continue in a more panicked voice.

“i’m sorry, mr. zhongli, i know you’re not the type to resort to deceit or find joy in toying with people’s feelings, but i’m just— i can’t—” you trailed off, feeling your chest tighten in pain.

“please, hold your tongue for a moment,” the refined man held out one of his hand to settle onto your shoulder comfortingly. his expression was a mixture of worry and confusion, eyebrows furrowing in a sign of distress. “are you saying that you… do not believe my words? you think i have malicious intentions?”

“….. i’m sorry, i’m just not used to- i’ve never-” you stumbled over your words and squeezed your eyes shut, “i’m sorry….”

zhongli watched you for a moment, observing the smallest ticks and the story behind your body language. you looked so vulnerable, like a scared animal instinctively cowering at some invisible threat. you looked as if someone had stripped away a bandage that had been haphazardly wrapped around a wound left unattended for so long, it had festered into an abomination, eating away at you slowly, even now.

belatedly, he realized that ‘someone’ was himself.

zhongli inhaled deeply, his palm leaving your shoulder. this time, he took his hands to tenderly grab your fingers, lifting them up to silently plead for your attention. your eyes were troubled and full of storms, the rain and lighting reflecting on your expression as a solemn flutter of your eyelashes and sorrowful downturn of your lips. the slight tremble of your body reflected the silent call for help from a blemished heart that never had the courage to forget.

“my dearest. i see the pain you have gone through. i have yet to know the tales that had marred your heart, but i want you to know that i am willing to be the pair of ears you tell your grievances to, and you can be rest assured that they will be safe with me. i know my words will not be enough to convince you otherwise at this moment… however, you must forgive my impatience, for it stems out of genuine love. i simply must humbly ask once again—”

“— please, give me a chance to heal you.”

“a-are you sure you want me?”

out of the 18 different responses he anticipated, al haitham did not expect this. however, his surprise merely manifested in the rising of both of his eyebrows and the subtle shift on his legs.

“unlike the consensus the public seemed to have one-sidedly agreed on, i am not foolish enough in the matter of romance as to confess to someone i do not hold deep affection and great care for,” he said in the same tone as the moment he asked if you would consider taking your relationship into the ‘officially dating’ phase, “is it not obvious? kaveh claimed i was ‘laying it on thick’ and cyno had noted of how i treat you better than how i treat the dendro archon.”

“oh….”

“….”

“….”

you thought you had gotten used to al haitham’s stare with how much you both had been hanging out, but right now you couldn’t seem to lift your head. the scholar crossed his arms, waiting patiently for your response. you were both gratuitous and dreading his resilience.

“i-i still think you could do better, though. i mean, look at you! you’re so fit, so wouldn’t you feel better if your partner is more of the sporty type? and you’re the top graduate of the haravatat darshan, so you would pair better with someone smarter…. a-and someone like me will just drag you down; aesthetically speaking, i… uh, leave much to be desired while you’re… you know…”

you spoke of such illogical assumptions and erroneous advices that he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. you spoke of belittling yourself as if you were used to riding on the rails of insurmountably low dip of the self-esteem cliff for years. you spoke of these things as if you were repeating words someone told you at least once in your life.

and it angered him.

but he wasn’t angry at you. he was angry for you.

funny how empathy wasn’t his strong suit, and yet he jumped on the bandwagon as easily as an otter taking off into the waters the moment it came to you and your emotions.

“i care not for such shallow qualifications when it comes to seeking a partner. your presence triggers the relevant hormones that make me feel relaxed and comfortable, and my mind spontaneously seek for your attention. it’s only logical that i seek for an arrangement that would ensure these pleasant things to happen and develop further.”

“you’re the best choice for a partner, simply because i wish to spend the rest of my life with you; and i think that's enough.”

“i don’t think i’m a good choice for you…”

wriothesley looked as if you had pinpointed his weak point in a boxing match and delivered a straight jab right onto it. his lips slacked open and his body froze as he tried to process your words, the meaning behind it, the—

he inhaled deeply and punched his own fist into his palm, stretching his jaw with a growl before a darker tone took over his voice.

“alright, who’s been talking shit? let me at them. it won’t be manslaughter if they don’t die, right?”

he watched as your nervously fiddling fingers stopped twisting around each other, your eyes widened in shock and alarm at his words. briefly, he praised himself inwardly for being able to switch your mood at the snap of his fingers. now if only he could do that, but instead of surprise-and-horror, it could turn into surprise-and-joy instead…

“what?! wait- no! no one said that, i ju—”

“then is your own head telling you that?”

“it’s—” you gulped, gaze slowly breaking away.

he sensed a secret kept safe under the heaviest chains and locks. pain that had nearly torn up that warm heart of yours, shoved into the furthest part of you in a desperate attempt to save yourself; to silence the damned screams and the river of curses that would have made you self-destruct. he saw the remains of the thousands of needles that had embedded itself deep inside your worn heart a long time ago, and yet still it beat and struggled to not bleed out and drown you in its venomous blood.

he saw a heart as scarred as his skin, and he understood.

“..… alright, sweetheart, listen up, and listen close.”

the man’s hands suddenly cradled your cheeks, his icy blue eyes penetrating your clouded gaze. his whole demeanor had shifted into gentle and loving, as if he was holding his entire world in the palms of his hands. he resisted the urge to kiss you when you couldn’t help but lean onto his touch, instinctively seeking comfort.

he would do you better. he would give you the kind of love you’ve yet to experience. there were so much he wanted to say, but he chose to speak of the reassurance he thought you needed most at this moment.

“i say you’re the perfect choice for me. let me prove it to you.”

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈ @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sunnshineflxwer | @yuutasbabe | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @marina-and-the-memes | @mixed-kester | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @cakeboxie | @crystalflygeo | @ciexuvia | @illaasya | @celestewritestoomuch | @pams-comfortzone | @spidermanluvr444 | @ourstrawberryclouds | @ryuryuryuyurboat

[tendermimi]

Bilal Al-Shams, Sacrifice

[the-al-chemist]

The Lights That Never Go Out

Prologue: There Is A Light

Something is coming this Christmas… I’ll let these two start telling the story.

Warnings: mentions of difficult family situations.

24th December, 1988

Charlie was starting to regret not sleeping for longer before driving his brother and friends home. When the little blue car he’d borrowed from his father’s garage had left Hogwarts, it had been late evening. Now it was the early hours of the morning, and they were still airborne. At least before he had been able to see the lights from the towns below, now there were only the car’s headlights illuminating the endless expanse of night sky through which they continued to soar.

He had hoped that the others would have stayed awake with him, but he had been proved wrong. In the back seat, both Bill and Merula had fallen asleep, and from the way Artemis was leaning her head against the window, she was struggling not to doze off as well. Charlie glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She looked tired. There was no point in trying to keep her awake, so he turned down the radio, which was playing an old Christmas carol sung by a church choir. At least that way she’d be able to drift off peacefully, rather than humming along to the music.

However, as Charlie lowered the volume on the car radio, he realised that Artemis wasn’t humming along to the Christmas carol at all. She was quietly singing along to a completely different tune, her eyes glazed as she stared out of the window into the darkness.

“Take me out tonight, where there's music and there's people and they're young and alive.”

Charlie smiled to himself. He didn’t recognise the song, but no doubt that was because it was a Muggle song. Artemis loved Muggle music. He would have asked her what it was, but it wasn’t often that he heard her sing, so he stopped himself before he interrupted her.

“Driving in your car, I never, never want to go home.”

A fitting lyric, if ever there was one.

“Because I haven't got one anymore.”

Sadly, probably also true, in Artemis’ eyes at least. Charlie frowned. He doubted that Artemis was even aware that she was singing out loud. Now wasn’t the time to ask her about it, as much as he wanted to.

“And if a double decker bus crashes into us…”

Charlie blinked. Surely he’d misheard that lyric.

“To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.”

Maybe he hadn’t misheard. What kind of song was this?

“And if a ten-tonne truck,” Artemis continued to sing under her breath, “kills the both of us—”

“Well, that’s Christmassy,” Charlie muttered. He had said it more to himself than to Artemis, but she must have heard him, because she stopped singing.

“What is?” she asked, taking her head off the window to turn and look at him.

“Your song.”

“What song?”

“The one you were just singing along to.”

“I was singing a song?” Artemis’ nose wrinkled as she asked her third question, and Charlie nodded in response. “What song was I singing?”

“I don’t know. Muggle song, I think. Had a car in it,” Charlie shrugged, not wanting to really go into the details of the lyrics. They seemed too personal, somehow. “Lots of death and misery, too.”

“Oh. Festive.”

“Exactly.”

They were quiet for a bit longer, as Artemis fiddled with the volume of the radio to turn it back up, before turning it down again after a few more bars of choral music played through the speaker.

“Rubbish,” she whispered. “There’s much better Christmas songs than this one.”

“We can play some tomorrow, if you like. We have a wireless. Mum will want to listen to Celestina Warbeck in the evening, but I’m sure no one will mind if you want-”

“Does she do that every Christmas?”

“Yeah, it’s her thing,” Charlie nodded. “She loves Celestina Warbeck, and she’s so busy the rest of Christmas getting things ready, like the food and the presents for everyone. It’s the one thing she does for herself, you know?”

“Sort of,” Artemis replied. “How do you normally do Christmas?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what happens in your house at Christmas?”

“Oh, right. Well, usually Ginny wakes everyone up super early — she’ll get you up early, too, I’m afraid — and we go downstairs to open stockings. Then we play games and stuff until lunchtime, then after that we open presents. There’s a lot of food, so you’ll be happy.”

“Bill said there would be pigs in blankets.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Charlie half-laughed, half-frowned. “Do you not have them at your… Where do you normally go for Christmas?”

“My aunt and uncle’s,” Artemis told him. “Aunt Tina doesn’t like anything with pigs in it. She doesn’t really like Christmas that much, either, she just does it for mine and Uncle Newt’s sake, more than anything.”

“So it’s just the three of you normally?”

“And mum, sometimes. She doesn’t like Christmas at all, so usually she stays back at her house.”

“Do you have any cousins or anything?”

“Yeah, but they all live in America. I’ve not actually met them before, except for my grandma and granddad, and Newt and Tina’s son and his family. They came to visit one year when I was little. They were nice.”

“What about on your dad’s side?”

“My other granddad died in the war. I never met him,” said Artemis, drawing her legs up onto the seat. “And my grandma lives in a house for old Muggles. She has to have people look after her because she’s so forgetful. One time when she was looking after me, she flooded her whole house. I mean, it was fine, I just floated on a rug. But after that she wasn’t allowed to live by herself anymore.”

“Do you see her often?”

“Not since Jacob went missing. She never really remembered who we were, anyway.”

Charlie said nothing. He’d been surrounded by family all his life. He couldn’t imagine not having them around, especially not at Christmas.

There were more questions he wanted to ask Artemis, but in his peripheral vision he could see that she was drawing her legs ever closer to her chest, and moving head restlessly to look out of the window, even though there was nothing to be seen. She’d had enough of this conversation, he could tell.

“If you like,” he said, as breezily as he could muster, “you can have my pigs in blankets.”

“Really? Don’t you like them?”

“I do,” Charlie laughed quietly, “but I like you more.”

“It’s fine. I like you more than I like pigs in blankets, too,” Artemis said. Charlie made a shocked expression with his face, and she giggled. “More than pigs in blankets. Less than Bakewell tarts.”

“I’m not sure whether to be offended or not by that.”

“You shouldn’t be. I don’t like anyone more than I like Bakewell tarts.”

Charlie looked at Artemis, who smiled guilelessly at him and shrugged her shoulders, making him chuckle. At Artemis’ feet, there was doleful miaow.

“Obviously, I don’t mean you, Fergus,” she said, reaching down to put a finger through the metal door of the cat basket in the footwell. She turned to glance over her shoulder at Bill, still fast asleep, before opening the basket. “Come on. You can sit here for a bit.”

The marmalade-coloured body of Artemis’ cat Fergus emerged from the footwell, and Charlie shook his head as the cat made himself comfy around Artemis’ shoulders, purring loudly.

“Quiet, mate,” Charlie whispered, his eyes flicking to Bill’s reflection in the rear-view mirror. “You don’t want to wake up the Fun-Auror.”

Artemis grinned and stifled a yawn as she settled back into her seat. Charlie said nothing. She looked tired, and she’d need some rest to enjoy Christmas to the full, as she deserved to do. He didn’t mind driving without company for a while.

A pair of socked feet appeared on the dashboard to Charlie’s left, and a quiet hum resumed from the passenger seat. It sounded like the same song as before, but a different refrain this time.

“There is a light and it never goes out...”

Charlie smiled to himself as he listened to Artemis’ voice fade, watching the car’s headlights illuminating their path home.

[alyslaskeywriter]

10 weeks ago, whilst on a train from Nice to Lyon, I started writing my first original novel. Today, I published that novel. And I’m so excited to share it.

The Chief is now available to read in full (and for free!) on Wattpad.

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

Cujo

"Cujo where in the world do you keep finding all these things?"

Danny looked down at a very proud looking Cujo who had recently returned from his trip.

On each trip he brought back things that he liked, lately Cujo was bringing back the most curious things.

From pillows and toys to weapons and weird clothing.

One time even bringing a golden lasso.

This time it seemed to be a sword and a jar filled with liquid with what he was pretty sure was a human organ.

"Cujo please don't take peoples organs, I don't want to get in trouble"

A sentence he never thought he would be saying,

What a day.

~

Alfred: "I seem to be missing my favourite pair of socks?"

~

Wonder Woman is questioning who was brave/stupid enough to steal her lasso from practically under her nose.

~

Damian: Father! Who took my weapons away, I haven't even been grounded!"

~

Lex Luthor: "Where's all the kryptonite I just bought?!"

~

Ra's: *squinting* "Something just happened."

~

Sorry this one is shorter than usual I'm in the middle of class.

Bye!

~

Just an Idea

[silent-mysteriousguy]

*emerges from the trenches* a certified ao3 author moment

[apolunee]

[perfectfeelings]

Never have I dealt with anything more difficult than my own soul, which sometimes helps me and sometimes opposes me.

Imam al-Ghazali