Maybe some time you could talk about Susan and what it would be like if she didn't desert Narnia
How about we talk about what might have happened if Narnia hadn’t deserted Susan?
What if, instead of sending a stag to lead them astray, the Pevensies had been given time to end their first rule– to have finished their reports, their negotiations and treaties, that letter in the bureau Lucy was half-done penning to Mrs. Beaver to thank her for the fruitcake and to ask about her grandchildren.
They had lived there more than a decade then, grown from children to kings and queens, to brave young adults with responsibility heavy on their shoulders. They had lived through storms and wars, peace and joy, lost friends to battle and old age and distance. They had made a home. What if they had been given time to say good-bye?
What if we didn’t tell Susan she had to go grow up in her own world and then shame and punish her for doing just that? She was told to walk away and she went. She did not try to stay a child all her life, wishing for something she had been told she couldn’t have again.
There is nothing wrong with Lucy loving Narnia all her life, refusing an adulthood she didn’t want for a braver, brighter one she built herself. But there is also nothing wrong with Susan trying to find something new to fall in love with, something that might love her back.
You can build things in lipsticks and nylons, if you don’t mind getting a few runs in them. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be pretty, especially when pretty is the only power left to you.
Let’s talk about being the last one left. No, really, think about it. You get a call in the middle of the night, in the little flat you can just barely afford, and you are told there has been an accident.
Think about it, that moment– you scramble over everyone you know, everyone you love, and try to figure out where they all are that night. There are things rushing in your gut, your fingertips, your lungs, your ears– there are words in your ears as the tinny, sympathetic voice starts to tell you: it is everyone.
They were on a train. Something went wrong. They probably died instantly. A rushing sound. A bright light. (You try to imagine it, for years. You try not to think about it. You imagine it, for years–a rushing sound, a bright light.)
Your little sister, who you always felt the most responsible for, who you never understood, really– Your big brother, who disapproved of your choices but loved you with a steadiness you could never regret leaning into– Your little brother, a smug and arrogant ass except for the days when he drowned in self doubt– Ed was going to go far and you knew it, were waiting for it, were shoring up your defenses and your eye rolls for the days when he’d think he ruled the world–
Your mother is gone. Your father, with his stuffy cigar smell and big hands and the way he got distracted telling stories– he is gone. Your cousin Eustace, who suddenly lost that stick in his ass one summer. That friend of his, Jill, who you’d never actually quite met. Gone. A rushing sound. A bright light.
Go on. Walk through this with me. You can’t sleep all night long, because you still can’t understand it, still can’t quite breathe in a world where you are the last Pevensie. You finally fade sometime between midnight and dawn and when you wake up you don’t remember for half a second. You think ugh and you think sunshine why and then you remember that you are an orphan, an only child. You remember there probably isn’t anyone else to handle the funeral arrangements.
Get up. Make tea. Forget to eat breakfast and feel nauseous and empty all day. Call the people who need to be called. Your work, to ask for the time off. The mortuary, to ask about closed caskets. Distant relations. Friends. Edmund’s girlfriend and Peter’s boss. You listen to Lucy’s friends weep hysterics into the phone while you stare out the kitchen window and drink your fourth cup of tea. You call Professor Diggory, out at the old house with the wardrobe that started it all, and it rings and rings. You don’t find out for three days that he died in the train crash too. When you do, you stare at the newspaper article. You think of course.
You are twenty one years old. You have ruled a kingdom, fought and won and prevented wars, survived exile and school and your first day as a working woman. Nothing has ever felt worse than this. You have a necklace in your dresser you meant to give your mother, because she loves rubies and this glass is painted a nice ruby red and it is all you can afford on your tiny wages.
Excuse me, a correction: she loved rubies. She is dead. You never wear the necklace. You cry yourself to sleep for weeks. The first night you don’t cry, the first morning you wake up rested, you feel guilty. You wonder if that will live in the pit of your stomach all your life and you don’t know. The years reach out in front of you, miles and eons of loss. You are on the very shore of this grief and you do not know how you will survive feeling like this for the rest of your life. But you will survive it.
Get up. Make tea. Make yourself eat breakfast. Make plans with a school friend to do lunch. Go to work and try to bury yourself in the busyness of it. Remember that you’d promised to lend Peter a hand with some task or other, but you don’t even remember what it was– Collapse. Hide in the bathroom until you’re breathing again. Redo your makeup and leave work the moment your shift is over. Drop your nylons and your sweater and your heels in the apartment hallway. Fall into bed and pull the covers over your head.
Get up. Make tea. Eat. Don’t think about them for weeks. Don’t feel guilty when you remember. Feel proud. Spend an indulgent weekend in your pajamas, reading Lucy’s favorite novel and making Ed’s favorite cookies and remembering the way your mother smelled and how it always made you feel safe. Love them and miss them and mourn them. Keep breathing. Cry, but wash your face after in cool water. Wake in the morning to birdsong and spend three hours making breakfast just the way you like it.
Imagine the next birthday, the next Christmas, the next time you hit one of those days that herald the passage of time, that tell you how much you’ve grown and how much they haven’t.
Lucy, Peter, and Edmund will be at the same height for the rest of your life. Lucy will always be seventeen for the second time. You see, you think you know, when you lose them, what the dagger in you feels like. But it grows with you, that ache. You grow with it, too, learn how to live with that at your side but it grows, that ache, finds new ways to twist–
At the first friend’s wedding you go to, you cry because it’s lovely, those two smiling and promising and holding hands– but you also cry because you wonder what Lucy would have looked like in white, joyous and smiling and promising the rest of her life to a boy who deserved her.
Go on. You tell me if Susan deserted a world or if a whole life deserted her. You tell me who was left behind.
So yes, let’s talk about it– what if Narnia hadn’t deserted Susan? What if lipstick and nylons were things worn and not markers of worth?
What if we had a story that told little girls they could grow up to be anything they wanted– all of Lucy’s glory and light, Susan’s pretty face and parties, the way Jill could move so quiet and quick through the trees?
Because you know, some of those little girls? They were the little mothers, too old for their age, who worried and wondered, who couldn’t believe like Lucy or charge like Jill. Susan was reasonable, was hesitant and beautiful and gentle, was pretty and silly and growing up, and for it she was lost. She was left. And when Susan was left, so were they.
The little girls who worried louder than they loved, who were nervous about climbing trees and who would never run after the mirage of a lion, who looked at the pretty women in the grocery store and wondered if they would grow up pretty too– some of them looked at their little clever doubting hands, after they read Peter and Eustace and Jill scoffing at Susan’s vanities, and they wondered what they were worth.
Imagine a Narnia that believed in all of them. Imagine a Narnia that believed in adult women, lipsticked or not. Imagine Susan teaching Jill how to string a bow, arms straining. Imagine her brushing blush on Lucy’s cheeks, the first time Lu went out walking with a boy she was considering falling in love with. Imagine that when the last door to Narnia was shut, there was not a sister left behind.
She felt lonely. Like nobody cared. She cried and cried. Nobody was there.
She kept on sobbing, until her eyes were red. Just wanting to be able to go to bed.
She overthought and cried herself to sleep.
All night long, all she did was weep.
My girlfriend can charge my scroll just by holding it.
My girlfriend can make me hot tea and cook for me just by holding the kettle and the pan.
My girlfriend can can go all night all.
My girlfriend can go all night and day long.
My girlfriend is the perfect size to cuddle with.
My girlfriend's boobs are bigger.
My girlfriend's butt is better.
My girlfriend's tongue is amazing.
My girlfriend can lift ten of herself.
My girlfriend can shatter a mech with one punch.
My girlfriend can beat you up.
My girlfriend can beat up your girlfriend.
*Ruby opens the door to the backyard and walked out on the last few lines that Blake and Ren said as they glaring at the books they are reading while continuing to banter back and forward before asking her sister and friend as sitting on a bench having tea.* What's with those two?
Ren said there are too many plot holes the book they are read.
And Blake likes the author and took offence to it.
Then Ren said some other author is way better.
Which of course is an author Blake thinks is horrible.
And started to argue over other books.
And somehow lead to them arguing about which of us is the better girlfriend. Which I have to said Nora you are perfect sized to cuddle with a nice butt.
Thank you. I think you would be nice and cozy to cuddle with to and have great chest pillows.
Awww.~ You're so sweet. Come here. *Yang smiled giving Nora a hug who returns it before they both lift up their cups of tea and take a sip.*
... Uh-huh. Okay then. Now to the question I probably should have asked first, why are you two wearing those? *Ruby nodded before she questioned the two, pointing to the top-hats monocles and large fake handlebar mustache.*
Tea time. *They said raising the cups.* Cheers.
the gang seeing you all dressed up for the first time
(At first, I thought it said: “The gang getting you all dressed up for the first time” and omg, could you imagine? Like Sodapop is doin’ your nails while the other boys are looking through your closet to see what outfit you should wear.) anywAY
- Everyone’s jaw drops, like everyone. Their heads turn and they all stop to stare at you.
- Steve breaks the silence by WHISTLING at you like “Damn!” and Two-bit starts right after by hollering flirtatious things at you like, “Hey, baby, lookin’ good! I bet you’d look even better in my arms, huh??”
- Ponyboy’s face is beet red and he literally can’t look away. There’s so many things he wants to tell you. He’s already thinking of cheesy love poems to write you and how he honestly believes he found his ‘one true love.’
- Dallas is a sucker for girls being all dressed up so as soon as you stepped out, the cigarette he was about to light falls out his mouth and his eyes widen. He’s like,,, so stunned. Abort mission, he is a horndog, he’s going to follow you all night long and use every smooth line in the book to get a knockout like you.
- Darry’s become light pink and he’s so speechless. He clears his throat and tries his best to look away but he kEEPS LOOKING OVER, HE CAN’T HELP IT. He wants to tell you how stunning you look in the most gentlemanly terms but he just can’t pull himself together.
- Johnny cannot keep his wide eyes off of you, he’s looking at you up and down and he just wants to smack himself because he can’t help it. He stutters and stumbles over his words when attempting to compliment your appearance. His mind is screaming “Wow”
- Soda dead ass makes a move on you the first few seconds you step out. He literally slides over and leans against the wall in a suggestive and flirtatious manner and says the cheesiest fucking pick-up you’ve ever heard.
- Steve and Soda compete each other for you due to bro-code and Johnny is the next to try and make a move and he’s so nervous, he’s trying his best.
hey, could you make bts reacting to their s/o sending nudes to them while they are at some music show? thanks!
A/N: *those are the replies of the boys on your chat where you sent the nudes*
“What have I done to deserve this disrespect? Why are the Heavens testing me?”
“I tell you encourage me, you send a nude. Damnnn, I’ve found wifey material.”
“Good girl. You are even wearing the lace bra. This cries for a reward when I go home.”
“You just loves watching me suffer. Now I’ll have to dance with a boner, in a satin suit. Good job baby.”
“I just love this bra so fucking much. And those tits. I’ll survive the boner, but once I see you, fuck sleep, we are going all night long.”
“I said a video Y/n, this is not a video. Did I said a picture or a video? Now I’ll put it as my wallpaper, so I can watch it always and when I come home we will practice the differences between a video and a picture
“Just wait till I get home. Unpatient little princess. You wanted to get me hard, you did it. Will you survive the consequences however?”
Children, what do you think about a K.A.R.D gangster fic? I won’t post BTS reactions for a while until I get my Bts muse again. These days I’m into K.a.r.d and Triple H, yeahhh. I’m afraid that if I continue writing for Bts in this condition, my content will beocme shabby and useless. Also there are so many BTS reaction blogs that I feel totally useless as one. But when you search other groups there are almost none. So I will open the requests for reactions of groups different from BTS.
EXO’s Reaction to You Wanting to Go All Night Long
Xiumin would go quiet for a moment when you asked him, and he slowly nodded. “Yeah…as long as you’re up for it,” he’d say, throwing you a knowing smirk before changing the subject.
Flattered that you wanted to go all night long with him, Chen would turn shy at your question. “Of course, jagi, I’d love to,” he’d say, nodding as a smile crept onto his face.
When you shyly approached Baek to ask him a question, he never thought it would be sexual. You awkwardly avoided asking him straight out, however when you eventually did a gentle smirk played across his lips. He readily agreed, and that night you didn’t regret it.
Not used to you being so up front about your desires, Chanyeol would immediately start giggling “J-Jagi, I never thought you’d ask that. Absolutely,” he’d laugh, making you blush and roll your eyes at his childishness.
Lay wouldn’t make a fuss about your request, gently agreeing. “I just don’t want you to get hurt or anything,” he’d explain. When you assured him you were up for it, he smiled and nodded.
Like Chanyeol, D.O would be thrown off when you blatantly asked him to go all night. He’d agree, but would be adorably shy about it, avoiding your eyes and trying to change the subject.
Suho wouldn’t let you finish your question before answering. “Of course! It’s only natural that you’d want me for as long as possible,” he’d say with a cheesy wink for effect. You’d just roll your eyes, secretly excited for the night to come.
Trying to play it off coolly, Kai would only nod and smile. When you weren’t looking, he’d bite his lip and force himself to breathe, trying to fight back a creeping arousal from the thought of going all night.
As usual, you asking to go all night would only boost Sehun’s ego, and he’d smirk. “Really, jagi? Only if you think you can handle it…” he’d wink, making you blush and insist you could.