i just finished rewatching EPISODE FOUR, oh my god, it is crackier the second time around, i'm not sure if i can stomach a third rewatching. AND AFTER I FINISHED THE EPISODE I CAME AROUND AND READ THIS.
Too tired to argue, his vision blurring from staring at maps by candlelight, Peter had taken his blankets and gone upstairs to share the treehouse with Susan, wrapping his arms around her and letting her cry into his shoulder. They’d fallen asleep in the same bed, Susan’s head tucked against his chest and his arm slung over her back. asfdjslkajl;kgl;'dg;dfka;kw;dfk;slakfl. ajfldkf;ask'd. ajfskl. aal;. yeah i think i'm done.
more lines i like! “Why do all your plans depend on you doing something stupid?” and it’s stuck with him through half a dozen countries, two worlds, and four timelines. Every fight feels like a battle until the moment of battle itself: then every battle feels like a fight. the ones that haven’t processed in his brain yet and won’t until he’s wondering where his scars come from.
you are like, the only person i know whose fic should be rated R for violence instead of sexings
“Go mbeire muid beo ar an am seo aris!” BEDLAM OMG. :-O
the minotaur refusing the cordial <3333
revisiting their wounds holy shit. their bodies having always belonged to narnia! narnia and pevensies, always trying to reclaim one another! the scars that should be on his skin. It will be a long time before they’re all there, but they’ve been making their way back ever since he fell out of the wardrobe nine years ago, and some day he’ll have the pattern of his life back. <3333333333333333333 peterrrrrrrrr
“Are you sleeping with Susan again tonight?” “I’m not really sure I trust these Narnians,” Peter admits, a little reluctantly. SUUUUUUUUUUUUURE, Pete, you keep telling yourself that.
“I’d rather not leave any one of us alone at night.” IF YOU KNOW WHAT I M-- Edmund nods. “I know what you mean,” he says. WELL THEN.
typo?: She turns away in a whirl of skirts, bow and quivering banging against her back,
no subject
Too tired to argue, his vision blurring from staring at maps by candlelight, Peter had taken his blankets and gone upstairs to share the treehouse with Susan, wrapping his arms around her and letting her cry into his shoulder. They’d fallen asleep in the same bed, Susan’s head tucked against his chest and his arm slung over her back.
asfdjslkajl;kgl;'dg;dfka;kw;dfk;slakfl.
ajfldkf;ask'd.
ajfskl.
aal;.
yeah i think i'm done.
more lines i like!
“Why do all your plans depend on you doing something stupid?”
and it’s stuck with him through half a dozen countries, two worlds, and four timelines.
Every fight feels like a battle until the moment of battle itself: then every battle feels like a fight.
the ones that haven’t processed in his brain yet and won’t until he’s wondering where his scars come from.
you are like, the only person i know whose fic should be rated R for violence instead of sexings
“Go mbeire muid beo ar an am seo aris!”
BEDLAM OMG. :-O
the minotaur refusing the cordial <3333
revisiting their wounds holy shit. their bodies having always belonged to narnia! narnia and pevensies, always trying to reclaim one another!
the scars that should be on his skin. It will be a long time before they’re all there, but they’ve been making their way back ever since he fell out of the wardrobe nine years ago, and some day he’ll have the pattern of his life back. <3333333333333333333
peterrrrrrrrr
“Are you sleeping with Susan again tonight?”
“I’m not really sure I trust these Narnians,” Peter admits, a little reluctantly.
SUUUUUUUUUUUUURE, Pete, you keep telling yourself that.
“I’d rather not leave any one of us alone at night.”
IF YOU KNOW WHAT I M--
Edmund nods. “I know what you mean,” he says.
WELL THEN.
typo?: She turns away in a whirl of skirts, bow and quivering banging against her back,