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Lucy: I relate to Belle because she loves books and likes people for who they are!

Edmund: I relate to Tinkerbell because she needs attention or she dies.

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“Fierce predator establishes dominance in her territory”

(via)

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Sounds like most Chihuahuas and I would bet a prior Chihuahua owner would take him.

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by Nikolai Shahmantsir

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You just have to have faith about these things. Aslan will help us.

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There are lots of things to thank you for, Lots of things to be sorry for, I wish I could turn around and go back, So please… Forgive me

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The poem is Sea-Fever by John Masefield and it always makes me think of Lucy ❤️

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weird AU of the day: what if Aslan wasn’t a lion?

They say Aslan always came from the sea. Even now, if you listen from the ruins by the cliffs, you can hear his hooves pounding as the surf crashes into the shore. The breakers toss their frothing manes and you can almost hear a stallion’s scream on the wind. They say he could race faster than time and leap across chasms and worlds alike, that his hooves were shining gold but even unshod were harder than steel, that he can haul the heaviest burdens. Queen Lucy used to braid his mane with flowers, or so the legend goes, and when she disappeared Aslan raced the sun out to sea and hasn’t been seen since… except perhaps for the flash of his hooves when the sun glints off jagged rocks, and the arch of his neck when the storm-tossed waves roll in, and the ribbons of foam hissing back out to sea when the waves roll out again, like his tail trailing in the sand, his hoofprints engulfed by water before you can tell whether they were really there at all.

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I needed to hear this today. ❤️

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some doors just look like Narnia should be waiting behind them!

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Everyone should be able to envision themselves as Lucy!

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Everyone should be able to envision themselves as Lucy!

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some doors just look like Narnia should be waiting behind them!

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Narnia Incorrect Quotes 188/?

Edmund: I prevented Eustace from getting murdered today

Lucy: Oh really, how'd you do that?

Edmund: Self control

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Cut off from their home, England seems intent to not only trap them but strip them of all they are. It feels like every bit of themselves is being scraped out of their too-small shells. Susan hates it, especially when they return to London. She remembers their mother now and missed her terribly when she realised how long they have been away. But she knows that they cannot go back to the old ways. No matter how gently their mother smiles, no matter how tight she hugs them, they cannot return to the children they once were. When their father comes home from the war because of an injury, things only get worse.

“It’s not fair,” Susan cries one night, Peter’s arms wrapped around her as they sit on his bed. “How can I be so angry at them?” Peter’s lips are pressed into a thin line, eyes focused on the wall across from them. “They lost their chance at parenthood as much as we lost them as our parents, how can I be so-” Her words stick in her throat as the tears overwhelm her. Peter pulls her tighter, running his hand over her hair as she sobs.

Peter doesn’t tell her it’s alright, and Susan is glad for it. It isn’t alright. They are so very far away from their home, their kingdom, their real bodies. England is war-torn, and they can’t help like they could back home. The parents of this world are hurt, confused at the strangers in their children’s bodies. They must have expected changes during their separation, but none like this. It was bound to knock them off-balance.

So how could Susan expect anything other than hurt and misplaced words, when their parents can’t see the adults they are? How could she be this angry at their birth father for telling Peter that he cannot act as a father anymore? The man came home from horrid circumstances to find his children turning to his eldest as if he never existed in the first place. Of course, he was going to be disturbed.

But oh, Susan feels so very angry. How dare this man come back and demand their respect as head of the house without so much as proof that he is capable of leading them? How dare he look at Peter and tell him to stand down? How dare he shake his head at Susan as though she doesn’t know what she says when she speaks up about the family? How dare he dismiss their words, when he hasn’t been in these walls for four years, let alone the near twenty years it’s been for them?

Susan is angry beyond belief, and she cries until her body can’t find the energy to go on. She cries for the woman downstairs, who calls them her children and yet can no longer connect to them through no fault of her own. She cries for the soldier in the living room, who came home to a house that no longer needed him. She cries for Lucy and Edmund, torn between the parents this world demands them to follow and their siblings who raised them with tears and blood. She cries for Peter, trapped in a child’s body and stripped of his every duty. She cries for herself and for the motherhood that this world is intent on ripping away from her.

Her heart tears at itself, grief and anger clawing inside her chest as she cries and cries.

Peter stays with her through it all.

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Susan! Is there a problem of Susan?

Susan Pevensie goes on living

(Lyrics paraphrased from the Georgia Stitt song “Perfect Summer,” which has a lot of very Susan lyrics in spite of it being a love song)