#well thoughts

[toxic-garlic-fumes]

throwing a coin into the wishing well and a large arm rises from the hole holding a dandelion. It leaves the flower in the border, gives me a pat-pat in the head and it gently sinks back in.

[im-boredd-and-tired]

Just watched A Charlie Brown Christmas and it pinched me in the face

[jasper-stuck-in-a-well]

we all only get what e deserve

[mywaxenwings-blog]

. The sorting ceremony hadn't started badly for Brogan; as a muggleborn witch she didn't have much of a clue about what each of the houses meant, she was mostly concerned with staying with her sister. She was the clingy one, after all, and at that point in her life she couldn't remember a night that they hadn't shared a bed in the draughty little cottage they called home. When she was sorted into Hufflepuff she hadn't been fazed, smiling (close-lipped even at this point) at the whoops and cheers that had gone up, and she expected Ciara to follow close on her heels. They were identical twins, for goodness sake, what were the chances that they were so different that they couldn't even belong in the same house? However, it had been all the eleven-year-old her could do not to cry when Ciara had been sorted into Ravenclaw instead. After that she had been miserable without being around her sister so often as she was accustomed to, and this was only added to as she heard and took notice of what other people thought of the 'qualities' (or lack of same) of those that were sorted into Hufflepuff. More and more she could see the undistinguished, nothingness of who she was and everything she did. Of course that was why she belonged there and nowhere else - it was obvious, particularly when it was patently clear she lacked almost all the other qualities that were marked in her housemates.

Brogan McLaughlin's brain