#sad narnia

[difeisheng]

knew i was right for looking up to lucy pevensie from childhood

#GET THEIR ASSES GEORGIE #also i did figure she was queer before but it's fucking sad that this is how she felt she had to finally say it outright #sigh. this world #narnia cast #georgie henley #narnia #lucy pevensie #ashton originals

[tending-the-hearth]

thinking about how canonically the pevensie siblings are 13, 12, 10, and 8 in "the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe"

thinking about how lucy needed a stool to be able to get up onto her throne, how peter's sword is a little too large for him, how susan's bow is a little too difficult for her to pull back, how edmund's shield nearly covers his entire body.

thinking about the pevensie siblings and their first few months in narnia, getting to know their new people, and half the narnians sitting there horrified because WHAT have these literal babies been through to give them such traumatized, old eyes, and the other half of the narnians are preparing to adopt them, no it doesn't matter that they're the rules, they're children who are being put in charge of too many things, and if peter looks at the old man council long enough he's going to cry, so someone needs to give him paternal support while aslan is off doing Lion Jesus Stuff™️ and whoops oreius is being nice and encouraging and now he's adopted his kings and queens they're his kids now he doesn't make the rules.

just the narnians and the pevensies being thrown into it together, and just as the pevensies will do anything to protect their new kingdom, the narnians will do anything to protect their rules, because let's be honest, these children have no sense of self-preservation, and are far too overprotective of each other and their people to take into account their own safety, so a lot of battles it's just one of the pevensie siblings running headfirst into danger with oreius running after them because his kids are feral and don't know proper royalty manners and won't threatening old kings from different countries because they're being assholes and the last time one of them tried undermining the queens susan called him a self-righteous asshole and lucy tried to stab him SOMEONE help him corral his children please

#this started off angsty but now i'm giggling #oreius didn't want to adopt the rulers they kind of just... attached to him #and who is he to oppose his kings and queens when lucy gives him her puppy eyes and edmund looks so sad #and peter just needs fatherly advice and susan looks like she could use a good dad hug #he's their adoptive father they make the rules #oreius is trying his best but his four kids are going through puberty and have bonded with every narnian #and it's not like he's opposing lucy's desire to stab rulers who act like they're better than them #but he can't legally encourage regicide #oreius and tumnus trying to corral the pevensies #meanwhile peter's challenging every ruler who tries to make comments about his sisters to a fistfight #edmund's conning the rulers who peter isn't fighting into handing over their kingdom's #susan's verbally destroying half their enemies #and lucy's running around making pacts with nature spirits to haunt the other half of their enemies #i love that canonically lucy is the most feral of the pevensie kids #chronicles of narnia #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #peter pevensie #lucy pevensie #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #oreius

[softguarnere]

Memories Feel Like Weapons

Edmund Pevensie x gn!reader

Summary: “People can be different. They can change. You’ve changed.” Gently, you use your pointer finger to hook his chin and turn his face towards you, making him look you in the eye. “You’re a good king, Edmund, and an even better man. A good brother. A good boyfriend. Everyone has forgiven you for what you did as a child.” A/N: What's up, y'all?! It's been freezing these past few days and I hate it! 🥴 So this is for all you other lovelies who are currently being plagued by SAD 🫶🏽 Also, in case it's not clear in the fic, for the purposes of the story, we're just gonna assume that reader's parents also sent them off to the country during the war to stay with the professor, that they met the Pevensie's there, and went to Narnia with them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! ❤️ Warnings: Edmund has SAD but it's Narnia so it's never actually called that, the author is (once again) overusing commas

As interesting and as magical a place as Narnia is, you’re willing to admit that diplomatic negotiations are something that usually bore you to tears.

You try to take an interest, you really do, for Edmund’s sake. Political wheeling and dealing is his bread and butter. You’re not particularly adept at it yourself. Edmund has tried to explain the finer points to you many times, but it’s not something that you can wrap your head around. But maybe that’s just because you get too distracted thinking about how good looking your tutor is. Sometimes you raise a question or a particular point that you know he’ll jump to answer just to see how passionately he talks about his favorite subject. As far as you know, he hasn’t caught on yet.

Today proves to be different, though.

A chill in the air greets you when you awake. A crackling sound from the corner tells you that a servant has crept in at some point and started a fire in the hearth to stave off the cold. Blinking to adjust your eyes to the light, you’re greeted by the type of cold, white sunlight that announces a wintery morning and the season’s signature magical touch that often appears overnight – snow.

You leap out of bed, gasping when your feet kiss the cold floor. Hurrying to put on slippers, you wrap yourself in a fluffy robe and hurry to the door.

Edmund hates the winter. He hates the snow even more. No one can blame him for that. But you’re the only person he’s confessed this to.

Sure, his siblings might suspect as much. Those first few years in Narnia, no one dared suggest that they play in the snow whenever it arrived, for fear of what it might imply, and for fear of inadvertently upsetting the youngest Pevensie brother. After a few more years, he would find excuses to be tucked away in his library on snowy days, and no one would breathe a word of the fun they had without him while he was around. A delicate subject and a fine dance around it, to say the least.

It was only last winter that Edmund confided in you, and only because you had recently become a couple. He said the winter was hard enough on its own, but the snow brought back too many bad memories, ushered in nightmares so vivid that he sometimes woke up questioning what was real and what wasn’t.

This is going to be a rough day for him, to say the least. Which puts a damper on the mood, since ambassadors from a nearby kingdom are arriving to negotiate trade – something he was so looking forward to.

“Edmund?” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet library, and the echo makes you flinch slightly at the loudness of your own voice, at the desperate quality it holds.

Stepping further inside the room, you listen, and tune into the crackling of the fireplace along the far wall. You follow it until you can see the chairs in front of it, and in one of them, Edmund, slumped over a large tome, asleep.

He’ll have a crick in his neck from sleeping that way, you think. If you hadn’t known why he was here, finding him in his favorite place like this would be sweet. It still tugs on your heartstrings, yes, but in a different, heavier way.

“Edmund?” You gently shake his shoulder before stepping back.

The Just King startles awake, his book slipping out of his lap. His eyes are wide and wild as they flick across the room, struggling to make sense of his surroundings. Finally, they land on you and soften. “(Y/N)?”

“Good morning, sleepy head,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light, casual. “If you say that your neck doesn't hurt after sleeping like that, then you’re a liar.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The painful popping noises that echo from his spine say otherwise, but you let it go. Slowly, he rises, stretches, and then takes a step closer to you and plants a kiss on your forehead. He sighs through his nose. “Today is the day.”

You slip your hand into his, intwine your fingers. “How are you feeling?”

Edmund shrugs. His relationship with his siblings has improved leaps and bounds in all the years that they’ve spent in Narnia, but sometimes he still hesitates to show certain emotions around them, to express himself the way he should. Sometimes it’s easier when it’s just the two of you in a space like this where he’s comfortable.

“I’ll manage.”

“If you’re not feeling up to it – “

He squeezes your hand. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a day that I have to get through.”

“Spring will come again,” you assure him, using the mantra that you often whispered to comfort him through last year’s winter season.

“And we will greet it with open arms and grateful hearts,” he finishes. He attempts a smile, but it looks more strained than usual. “Don’t worry, darling. Everything will be fine.”

. . .

It is almost immediately not fine.

The ambassadors arrive in all their splendor. Fine fabrics and shimmering jewels assure that no one can take their eyes off them as they enter the hall and approach the five thrones. They bow to Peter in the center, to Susan and Lucy on his left, then to you and Edmund on his right. Servants carry golden trunks behind them. They have come to these diplomatic negotiations bearing gifts in the most literal sense.

Though you will all retire to a separate chamber for the actual negotiations, the gift giving is a public affair for the whole court to witness. And because it’s so formal, it’s rather slow.

Strong weapons forged of foreign metals are gifted, followed by clothes of their country’s latest fashions, and small samplings of food for each of you, a different dish for you each to try based on what the ambassadors have heard about you.

Thank goodness you’re a good actress, because the ambassadors seem to think that you really do seem excited to try the food in the bejeweled silver container that they gift to you. In reality, you’re trying your hardest not to grimace at the unfamiliar looking treats inside of it, and trying hard not to become preoccupied wondering if the taste will be as . . . unique as the smell that emits from them.

“And finally, for King Edmund,” one of the ambassadors says with a bow before presenting a silver container to Edmund with a flourish. “I have heard a rumor that you are quite fond of these.”

Thankful for a distraction from the gift in your own hands, you turn your attention to Edmund. Sitting beside him, you are in full view of the show that his siblings are not. You can see the rosy color, the powdered sugar. The Just King’s smile immediately falters. Strong hands clamp the container shut before anyone else has the chance to see what’s inside – Turkish Delight.

For a moment there is nothing but silence, the labored sound of Edmund drawing a breath. It goes on just long enough that his siblings glance at him. Only then does Edmund seem capable of forcing himself to smile, to nod, to thank the ambassador for such a thoughtful gift. If his siblings sense that something might be wrong, they don’t even know the half of it.

Because what has just happened, really? Is this a slight on behalf of the other country’s rulers? Or do they genuinely have no clue the implications of their actions?

As the exchanging of the gifts comes to a close, Edmund coughs into his fist, clears his throat. Does it again. He thumps the flat of his palm against his chest.

Peter turns to him. “Are you alright?”

“I think I just require a bit of fresh air, if you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Edmund replies. He says it far too quickly, and he uses the excuse to dismiss himself from the hall. The silver container that holds the Turkish Delight has been abandoned, left behind on his throne.

It takes everything in you not to race after him, to follow him, to make sure that he’s okay. Instead, you’re stuck helplessly glancing between the doorway that he’s disappeared through and the ambassadors who won’t seem to shut up.

Finally, the niceties end. The other king and queens of Narnia begin to migrate into a separate chamber with the ambassadors to begin the negotiations.

Quickly, quietly, you catch Lucy by the sleeve of her dress and lean in close to her ear. “I’ve got to go find Edmund,” you whisper. “I’m worried about him.”

Lucy’s eyes go wide, but she holds her composure under the watchful eyes of the court and the visiting representatives. “I’ll cover for you,” she whispers back.

As one of the five Narnian monarchs, you don’t technically need anyone’s permission to leave – except maybe Peter’s, since he’s the High King. Still, you’re the only one who’s not a Pevensie sibling, which can sometimes be a little isolating. Knowing that Lucy has your back boosts your confidence as you slip away, heading for the nearest place that you think Edmund might have disappeared to.

A quick search reveals that he’s not in the library. Or the armory, or any of his usual haunts. As a last resort, you duck into his bedroom, and it’s there that you find him, standing before the hearth, staring into the flames. His hand holds the place on his side where the White Witch stabbed him on the battlefield, though the gesture seems absentminded.

“Ed?” You make your voice soft so as not to startle him.

He looks up, eyes wide, surprised anyway – and hurt.

You don’t waste time asking if he’s okay. Instead, you cross the room to meet him in front of the fire. “Oh, Edmund.”

He doesn’t bother lying and saying that he’s fine. That’s how you know it’s bad. When Edmund Pevensie goes quiet, retreats within himself, it means that he’s truly wounded. This is something deep inside of him that aches, that rots.

Not knowing what to do, you take a seat on the rug in front of the hearth. You’re careful not to touch him, trying to offer him the space if he needs it. But he follows your lead and takes a seat, too, which seems like a good sign.

For a while, neither of you speaks. You just sit near each other, staring into the fire. Edmund looks very numb when he finally says, “I didn’t mean to leave like that. I just . . . panicked.”

“No one blames you.”

“Seeing that stupid Turkish Delight – “ He shudders. “I can’t figure out if it was a poor choice given with good intentions, or if it was a slight on my honor, a reminder of what I did.” He frowns. “I suppose to some people I’ll never be Edmund the Just – I’ll only ever be just Edmund, The Traitor.”

“No,” you protest. Space be damned; you grab his hand in yours and squeeze it, like that gesture can also grab his attention, infuse the meaning of what you’re about to say to him so that he cannot ignore it. “Edmund, you’ve changed. You’re not a traitor.”

“Anymore.”

“People forget that I was there, too,” you remind him. “I tried to follow you to Jadis’ castle.”

“That was different. You were trying to stop me from betraying my family.” His brow furrows at the memory. “So I shoved you into a snowbank and ran off without you. And then you went back to Beaver’s the help the others. (Y/N) the Loyal,” he employs the epithet that Aslan gave you, but you can’t be sure why. Because of what you did then? Because you’re here with him now?

“People can be different. They can change. You’ve changed.” Gently, you use your pointer finger to hook his chin and turn his face towards you, making him look you in the eye. “You’re a good king, Edmund, and an even better man. A good brother. A good boyfriend. Everyone has forgiven you for what you did as a child.”

Edmund shakes his head. “But they haven’t forgotten. And I can’t, either, if I’m being honest.” He doesn’t meet your eye when he confesses, “It haunts me, the memories. Every winter.”

“No. But you can do something else.” You pause to make sure that you have his full attention when you make your suggestion. “You can forgive yourself.”

Edmund blinks. As smart as he is, it seems like the thought has never occurred to him before now.

“It doesn’t have to be now,” you assure him. “It’s not an instantaneous thing. Just . . . something to work on. A project. An ongoing one.”

Silence falls between you again as he turns back to the fire. It takes a few moments before he nods, the light shining off his dark hair and his crown.

“I’ll work on it,” he says, resolved. He turns back to you, and when he speaks again, his voice is so unsure, so timid, that you have the sudden urge to hold onto him with one arm and use your other to draw your sword and fend off anything or anyone in the world who might come near and cause him harm. “Can you help me do it?”

You nod. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” he clears his throat, shakes his head. “I’m going to need more than my own forgiveness for being late to these negotiations.” He makes no move to get up. His gaze wanders across the room, as if seeing it for the first time, before landing on the window and studying the portal to the frozen, white world beyond it.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t feel up to it.” Then, trying to lighten the mood, you bump your shoulder against his. “I’m sure Susan and Lucy ganging up on the ambassadors will give them a run for their money.”

Edmund chuckles, settles back on the rug. “Good, because I honestly don’t think I can look into the eye of a person who tried to give me Turkish Delight without hitting him over the head with my sword.”

Even though you’re in a relationship, it’s maybe the most vulnerable that Edmund has ever been with you. He places his head in your lap and stares into the hearth as you card your hands through his dark locks.

“Spring is coming soon,” he mutters, his voice heavy with the sleep that’s trying to catch up with him. “Maybe then I can start over . . . Would be nice to not have to worry about freaking out over a bad gift and embarrassing myself in front of the whole court.”

“Spring will come again,” you remind him, voice soft in case he’s already dropped off to sleep. “And we will greet it with open arms and grateful hearts.” Then, for good measure, you add a new line to aid you through your latest challenge. “And it will allow us to start over.”

#Edmund can have SAD - as a treat #edmund pevensie #narnia imagine #narnia fanfiction #narnia x reader #edmund pevensie x reader #my writing

[always-a-king-or-queen]

Miss Pevensie, they say, can you identify these bodies for us? And you try, gentlest sibling, you try your best. But the tears are thick in your throat and the grief is bitter on your tongue, and when you shut your eyes you see fire and steel, twisting together and crushing the breath from their bodies.

You look at your father, and mother, and cousin, still and silent on their backs, bruised and bloodied and unsmiling, and their faces are anything but familiar. Were their eyes open you would be looking into the face of a stranger. You press your hand over your mouth, and you do not cry, and you tell them what they want to know. These are my parents, you hear yourself say. This is my cousin. They nod, they thank you, they direct you forward. More, more, more corpses to identify. More losses to count.

You look at your eldest brother, golden blond hair spread across his forehead, thick like the mane of a lion. There is gravel in his skin and soot on his cheeks and his face is pale, hands folded over his chest and blood threaded into his yellow sweater. Red against gold. For a moment the combination brushes your brain, touches a distant memory of battle and clashing swords, but you blink and it is gone. This is my brother Peter, you say, in a voice choked with grief. The sky looks black outside the window, and your brother’s arm still feels warm when you touch it a final time.

You look to your younger brother, dark hair tousled, blood leaking between his lips. His skin is frost pale, like snow, so white he appears to be made of stone. Shrapnel cuts into his cheeks and sends crimson trails across his face. His hands are clenched, cap askew on hair smeared with blood. They tell you he died with his sister in his arms, body curled around her in a vain attempt to keep her safe. You stare at him with a lump in your throat, and for a moment you seem to see him, silver crown upon his head, smiling with quiet gentleness. It fades, and you whisper, This is my brother Edmund. The tree outside the window seems to wilt a little as you speak. Your brother’s cheek is like ice beneath your fingertips.

You look last at your sister. She is peaceful, lips lifted in a smile, hair tangled beneath her head and shoulders. She grips something in one hand— a tiny wooden carving. A lion. Your throat clenches to see it, but you do not know why. Her skin is warm, like sunlight, but there is such coldness in her face. Such emptiness. Blood smears her sky blue dress, and you weep to see it. Blood does not belong on your baby sister. For a moment the red makes you remember her, dancing wild by a fire with berry juice smeared on her hands and mouth, but surely not. Surely such a thing never happened. This is my sister Lucy, you murmur, and are able to say no more. For a moment it seems as if a mist touches the window, and your sister’s skin is hot against your palms.

You turn away, raven-dark hair falling over your cheek, and stare out the window with tears burning your throat. There is no sun, and you think that perhaps there will never be sun again. It has been taken away forever.

(For a moment you seem to hear a voice, deep, gentle, loving. To the radiant southern sun. For a moment you feel the weight of a crown in your hair. Perhaps you are losing your sanity, bit by bit. Perhaps it was shattered the moment you heard the news).

They asked you to identify the bodies, and you did, because they are your family. They were your family. You loved each and every one of them. You loved your mother's soft fingers in your hair and your father's deep chuckle. You loved your older brother's fierce kindness and your little brother's quiet demeanor and your baby sister's merriment. You loved them all. And now you stare through the window at a sky that is heavy with rain and think of flames and twisted metal and the blood on your siblings' skin.

You close your eyes. For a brief moment you think you smell lilies, and salt, and Lucy is laughing and Edmund is smiling and Peter's arms are slung around their shoulders, and then they are looking at you and beckoning and there is a lion with golden eyes and the sun is rising into a damp new sky.

Your eyes open slowly, glazed over with tears that spill down your cheeks like rain.

And for a moment, just for a moment, you remember.

#susan pevensie #i am in the midst of writing a fix it fic for her #bc lewis encouraged it #and her story wasn't finished #and and and #also the premise of the story is super duper fun #but it will be sad too #but will end happy #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #ramblings from the void

[spalanai]

the disappointment of walking into a wardrobe and not finding narnia

#sad as hell #narnia #cs lewis #chronicles of narnia #aslan #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #literature #literary #classic #classics #children’s literature #book #books #booklover #booklovers #bibliophile #fantasy #fantasy books #classic books

[thru-ur-alarms]

from polendina to antonia; why did you have to leave so soon? a web weave.

A Grief Observed - C.S. Lewis / Unknown / In Memoriam A.A.H - Lord Tennyson Alfred / Some Kind of Heaven - Sleeping At Last / Sketch by Yenthe Joline / The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller / We Are Carried - Sara Rian / Paper Boats - Darren Kobb and Ashley Barrett

#lies of p #antonia #polendina #lies of p antonia #lies of p polendina #web weave #web weaving #on grief #that first quote is just. so appropriate #i read the entirety of a grief observed in under 2 hours and it left me an emotional wreck #cs lewis i love you so much i should read narnia #anyways. not as angsty as i thought #it just reads a bit... sad? i mean it is sad but. not as teenage-y angst as i thought. #it will be reconciled soon though. just you wait. #i need to go to that point to post it but it's cookin #mwehehehe

[astaticworld]

im not done talking about narnia imagine living thirty years in paradise and curiosity landing you back in the real world at 14. you get to go back to your kingdom but thousands of years have passed and your still living body has been mythologized. the best home you ever knew rotted into the wilderness. and then at the end of the nightmare you have to choose between staying forever and leaving forever. what the hell

#cs lewis was on some other shit #narnia makes me so fucking sad its unreal #narnia #the chronicles of narnia

[sophieswundergarten]

Return to regularly scheduled MBS thoughts soon, but I have a lot of emotions about how Susan Pevensie is given a horn.

A tool that is used as a cry for help

Sometimes it can be used to rally a group of people, but, really, Susan, the oldest sister, the one who was striving to play "mother" and keep her siblings together and keep them safe and try to make the best of things for them is given gift that is useless without community

And, in the end, she's left all alone

#I mean she gets a weapon and she's awesome with it #Which is a whole other thing #But I feel so sad that Susan was given this horn that became known as an artifact that would summon help #Because Aslan knew she would need help and support #AND THEN PEOPLE ARE MEAN ABOUT HER ABANDONING NARNIA #'CAUSE WE DON'T KNOW THE FULL SITUATION #AND IT'S ALMOST LIKE ASLAN KNEW SHE WOULD STRUGGLE ON HER OWN AND WAS TRYING TO HELP HER #It's something of a tragedy to me #susan pevensie #narnia

[lucy-pevensies]

Friendly reminder that book!Caspian isn't present when Aslan tells Lucy and Edmund that they aren't going to come back to Narnia again, and that Caspian probably spends the rest of his life wondering if he'll ever see his friends again. And he never does. 🙃

#i've been rereading the books and getting sad about caspian again. as one does #narnia #caspian #.txt

[flower1622]

Percy and Nico in another universe:

#greek mythology #greek posts #greek tumblr #greek gods #pernico #my posts #sad post #disney series #disney plus #disney #narnia #edmund pevensie #prince caspian

[tending-the-hearth]

the fact that their relationship is so painfully underrated when it's possibly one of the most important relationships in the entire movie series.

they were the first two to enter into Narnia, and from the moment they find themselves there, they become representations of the two sides, Lucy as Aslan's, and Edmund as Jadis'. they grow from being the furthest apart of the four to being the closest, Lucy bringing Edmund back to the light and him being able to rely on his sister. They're the most physically affectionate duo (after Peter and Lucy), and in "Voyage of the Dawn Treader", they're basically able to read each other's minds and trust in each other wholeheartedly.

and don't even get me started on the fact that Lucy is so connected to Edmund's domain, and Edmund is just as connected to Lucy's domain, so much so that during their time as rulers, unless someone knew their full titles, they probably got the domains mixed up.

they share everything with each other, and know each other's worst fear and their nightmares, and now I'm thinking about the fact that, when the train started to derail, Edmund and Lucy just looked at each other, and he immediately pulled her into his arms, hugging her as tightly as he possibly could, and Peter grabbed the two of them and held them close, because they knew what was about to happen, they knew things were going wrong, so all they can do is just hold each other and wait for the inevitable.

#sorry abt that last part i'm thinking about how they died and i'm sad #do not separate them!!!!! #they will go ape shit if they're separated!!!! #they're my beloveds!!!!! #also i'm going to sob look how lucy grows but she's still the perfect height to cuddle her brother <333333 #their relationship is so special to me #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #chronicles of narnia #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #prince caspian #voyage of the dawn treader #hearth overanalyzes

[strangerfandomfiascos]

I have a question for fanfic writers!!

I'm writing my first fic and I'm really struggling with the structuring of the first chapter - obviously there's no right or wrong but roughly how many words do you usually wrote per chapter/what would you recommend? ❤️

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction #steve harrington angst #steve harrington #stranger things fandom #sad steve harrington #steddie fanfic #steddie #steddie fic #eddie munson #lotr fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #merlin fanfic #sherlock fanfic #silmarillion fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #narnia fanfiction

[cjbolan]

This scene is still unintentionally funny.

[Image description: Sad lion with a written caption that says “When you have to banish Susan Pevensie from Narnia for wearing makeup and kissing boys”. End description.”]

#the chronicles of narnia #the last battle #narnia #aslan #Susan Pevensie #Lion #sad lion meme #funny #cs lewis #books #animals

[rainee-chu]

It’s literally 1am and I CANNOT stop thinking about narnia SOMEBODY SAVE ME

#also I saw fanart where narnia avoided eye contact with henri cuz he knew he was mad at him for whatever reason and #lemme say. THAT DRAWING KILLED ME IT WAS SO CUTE AND IM #literally throwing up #from happiness of course I love them #NARNIA LOOKED LIKE A SAD PUPP[gets kicked out of house] #okay I’m sorry no more narnia posting I swear #that was another lie if you couldn’t tell #mairimashita! iruma kun #naberius narnia #narnia naberius

[bellasbookclub]

Are you guys going through the whole series because I could send in an essay about Susan’s ending but it has nothing to do with the first book 😭

hsjdklkas you read M's mind (they desperately want to talk about Susan's ending but I've Forbidden them from rbing spoilers from the Other Books, at least to this blog.)

As far as long-term plans go, we don't expect to get through every Narnia book! I mean, there are 7 and we've got a lot of other authors and books on the list. Voyage of the Dawn Treader is the book Bella (cough smeyer cough) actually name-drops, so that's the other one we'll likely end up reading in BBC. The other 5 are long shots we make no promises about. (But maybe we'll make a long-term "other Narnias" thread in the discord for anyone who wants to read and discuss all those.)

(also for the record M's and my joint personal favorite is The Horse and His Boy by a mile (we also both like The Magician's Nephew!)) —G

Anon you gotta come to bookclub n stick with me we are gonna get through this that's our sweet baby girl the meow meow supreme - M

#asks #anonymous #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #the chronicles of narnia #december '23 book #also I couldn't finish the last book bc I was Too Sad

[oldshrewsburyian]

I finished this and thought it was incandescently good.

#salman rushdie #victory city #the credo at the end knocked me breathless #historical fantasy #it's sharp it's sad it's perceptive it's hopeful #and dazzlingly erudite #also i want someone to talk about the intertextuality with the chronicles of narnia and the jungle books #adultbooklr