radiantsouth

[radiantsouth]

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

#and that's why she is a queen!

[radiantsouth]

realized that the "problem of susan" misinterpretation is going to explode when the new narnia reboot drops and started chomping at the bit

#and u know the discourse is gonna be between the youngins #i will simply close my eyes

[radiantsouth]

Constantly obsessed with the concept of a man forced to be a myth. What do you do when every step you take is embedded into the text. Every word you say prose to read. You're part of something bigger than yourself. The narrative tugs you along like water currents. There is no time to rest, to be human. You must be great, you must be legend

#peter pevensie

[radiantsouth]

I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia? No, not for a long time… But the hope that you've brought, your majesties, have finally started to weaken the Witch's power.

[radiantsouth]

And what if I'm thinking about susan pevensie as a housewife on a rich english estate, cheering on her husband's hunting trips but she Knows he's aiming wrong but she doesn't know how she knows and when she laughs with her siblings about it they look at her with this Grief in their eyes that she doesn't quite understand.

Like what do you do when every member of your family has this bond that you can't seem to touch and they whisper to each other and when you ask them what they're talking about their words drift away like a dream

And what do you do when you have your first kiss, your first date, your wedding night but the sensation on your lips is Familiar as if you've done this before, you've loved and lost before but you can't Remember when and there's a black spot in your brain, but everyone else says that's the consequence of war and you believe them but you feel maybe you've lived through more than one war

#cmon filipino flag!

[radiantsouth]

Pevensie Siblings + Names

[radiantsouth]

they're right and they SHOULD say it

#im not ready to move on from the movie cast pls they will always be the definitive pevensies TO ME #that being said i wouldnt be mad at a magician's nephew adaptation #i trust ms greta but my god will moseley is barely in his thirties #narnia #tcon #the chronicles of narnia

[radiantsouth]

she gave cunt and she served and she died

[radiantsouth]

There is nothing scarier in their minds than a girl who knows the power of her flames | n.g.

@narnianetwork​​​ voyage 3: International Women’s Day - Ladies of Narnia (1/5)

[radiantsouth]

The Gentle Queen

Or Susan Pevensie in the Golden Era of Narnia.

《 1/ 4 》

#yesss absolutely #i always envisioned her in ombres

[radiantsouth]

oh, sister, I am sorry. your eyes are sunken and your skin is bruised. your lips are chapped, your nailbeds bitten raw. your husband's hand on your waist is a ghost's touch held by the band on your left ring finger and I-

I am dead.

I got on the train, Su. Nevermind your tears, nevermind the plea you could not shape with words, nevermind your fingers on the pulse point of my wrist. "stay", you'd said, as you have always done, dictionary in hand and baby teeth yet lodged in your jaw. "don't go where i cannot."

I step through a wardrobe and you follow, damned be reason. I slay a wolf and you follow, I cling to the little ones and you follow, I am crowned and you follow, I am-

I go past a lamp post, and you follow, damned be dread. I go to a train station and you follow, trembling hands and tender heart. I go, and I go, and I go, and you follow. Sun of my skies. Light of my life.

I go. you stop.

are we too old for stories, now? ten-and-four and ten-and-three, budding bodies and steel bones, we are cast from our home. i hold the little ones until i drown in them. you grip your skirts until no iron can press the shape of your palms from them. and you have ever been, cruelly reasonable and logically callous.

say you, glass shard eyes and rouge-red lips: we are english. we are children. she thinks she has found a magical land in the upstairs wardrobe.

say I, trembling hands and coiling guts: we are narnian. we are monarchs. if she's not mad and she's not lying, then logically she must be telling the truth.

my sister Susan, beautiful as folk tales are and twice as sharp, did you intend every invitation you took for me to twist the knife a godly animal once thrust into my guts? perhaps it was the way your eyes turned blue, or the sound of your laughter losing its bells. perhaps it was just my trembling fingers at the back of your legs, drawing stocking lines where no stockings had ever lain.

the line came out shaking, and you rubbed it off until your skin cried red. the hem of your dress still dripped wet when you left that day, turning on heels too narrow for you to walk in.

do you remember? it took you days to come home, and mother wailed for all of them. you crawled into my bed that night, as you did when we were parents to our little ones, those terrible months. your head on my shoulder, your breath in my ear, I held you until morning.

your mouth in my throat, eyes heavy with sleep, tongue heavy with champagne: we are here now. we must make the best of it. he cannot have all our lives, and all our joys. i wish you would laugh again.

doesn't little lucy, shrieking mouth and tumbling legs, laugh enough for us all?

lucy's manic. if she didn't laugh she'd cry.

i think sometimes, in the parts of my guts that are still a schoolboy, and are mean and cruel to match, that the alcohol makes you softer than the daylight ever could. i do not tell you.

i press my lips to your forehead. i wrap my arms around you. the year between us rings heavy, and when I get up in the morning, you do not follow.

I tried, Su. I did. I applied for university, I saw that girl with that smile. with those eyes. I let you take sections from the paper before I ever touched it, I held the little ones in my arms, and I made coffee in the morning. I sat all my exams.

I smiled when the little ones came back smelling of home.

Aslan's wounds, did I try. but-

I have ever been a thing made for stories. brave the way knights are, bloody knuckles and buckling pride. a horse between my calves, a sword in my hands.

I think, sometimes, that I was born for my sword, for the hollow ringing of my heart when I first held it. a part of me, even then, ten-and-three and soaked to the bone.

such bravery is not made for real world boys and real world taunts. there is a map, I think, from the summits of my knuckles to the jaws of every boy who ever looked at me and bared his teeth.

I am sovereign. I am the skies for your sun to burn in.

I am made wrong, for this england, and I cannot take this life you want. I belong, I think, into myths and legend, the star-studded shards of our home.

so I went on the train, Susan. so I died, and I named what you have chosen. so you grip your husband's hand, realest of us all, and you cry. you do not follow.

Forgive me.

#“he is a story and she is a person” yup. yup #the myth of high king peter really gets to me #susan having to live in the real world and all the ugliness that entails #just trying to make the best of what she has in the way she knows how #and being unfairly punished for it #peter trying his best to live in the world where his beloved sister wants to be #but he was never meant for that world #will never stop being insane about the eldest pevensies

[radiantsouth]

Alphonse Mucha - The Season’s - 1896

My illustrations - The Pevensies - 2020

(art shop)

#love this so much omg

[radiantsouth]

The Pevensie children

Instagram

[radiantsouth]

pevensie kids 🌞⚔️

[radiantsouth]

I’ve wasted time and sacrificed Telling my friends who I am Afraid of judgement, hearing God And saying something different again

(insp.)

[radiantsouth]

The tragedy of Susan's logical mind making her struggle with her faith, and being gifted the only weapon that requires her to have complete faith to work, and being constantly tried and always found unworthy, who did her best to belong in the world that was left when faith was gone, and by that was denied the right to leave with her family to Heaven, and left with her logical mind to handle the grief and responsibilities of being the only one left in that world without faith...

#what if i scream lol

[radiantsouth]

The White Witch by Lara Carson

Artwork found here.