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ukomfortabel:

do you ever get anxiety when thinking about how you’re not really living your life that you just go to school and eat and sleep and do homework and then after that you’re gonna get a job and you’ll work the rest of your life maybe marry and have kids and then you die and you haven’t even lived at all i can’t breathe

She has the dream again that night.

In the dream, she is standing, with her brothers and her sister, on the edge of the battlefield. It is summer, and the grass is a peculiarly vivid shade of green: a wholesome green, like a cricket pitch or the welcoming slope of the South Downs as you make your way north from the coast. There are bodies on the grass. None of the bodies are human; she can see a centaur, its throat slit, on the grass near her. The horse half of it is a vivid chestnut. Its human skin is nut-brown from the sun. She finds herself staring at the horse’s penis, wondering about centaurs mating, imagines being kissed by that bearded face. Her eyes flick to the cut throat, and the sticky red-black pool that surrounds it, and she shivers.

Flies buzz about the corpses.

(The Problem of Susan by Neil Gaiman)

(Source: greijoy)

milk-roses:

bead-bead:

cityofvalkayriecain:

she-was-a-rose:

#*dies of emotion* #but what if molly was his companion once #and now he stops by for breakfast #and keeps commenting because it seems like every time #there’s another ginger kid #adn when he sees harry it’s like ha! #i knew they couldn’t all be ginger! #and molly doesn’t bother telling the doctor that harry isn’t hers #because he is after all one of her boys #and she loves him just as though he was a weasley (via dwcompanion)

those tags broke me a little inside 

#Molly Weasley turned Daleks into actual pepperpots, because, honestly, she doesn’t have time for their nonsense.

I just fangirled.

(Source: fancypantswatson)

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