#traitormend

send me a misconception you think people have about my character and I’ll explain if it’s true or not : (accepting) 

haha wow you knew just the question to ask to distract me from returning to my reading! :)   this is the misconception of all misconceptions and it drives me BANANAS. susan was kept from the real narnia because her story isn’t over - - because she wasn’t on the train when it crashed - - because she’s still alive, and still has time to get there! nothing is KEEPING her from returning to narnia (at the right time) but HERSELF by the time we see her again. and the “too feminine” thing drives me to distraction, we don’t see OTHER women kept out of narnia simply for being “foo feminine” or “for being a woman,” (and i mean, heck, PETER is more an adult than susan by the time he reaches the real narnia, the professor even more so!) and susan’s attention to nylon and lipsticks and invitations isn’t in itself the issue. the issue is that she’s putting the world, putting the material, over narnia. she’s rejecting narnia of her own free will, pretending it doesn’t exist and trying to bully her siblings into the same way of thinking. (and driving others to sin is a pretty great sin in itself, which is…pretty much what she’s trying to do, to be honest, with full knowledge of what she’s doing). susan is angry and hurt and mourning, but those things in themselves don’t give excuse or reason. 

if susan had returned to london and kept faith in narnia and kept faith with her siblings AND liked lipsticks and nylons and invitations (but not more than such things should be liked in any healthy way, not in a way that makes them a PRIORITY in the way they’re a priority for susan) she would have been involved in the events of TLB and on that train and entering aslan’s country with the rest of them. but all of those elements - - the nylons, the lipsticks, the invitations - - are also more symbols than they are objects. they’re symbols of susan willingly trading one world for another, throwing herself into being what she believes an adult should be. essentially worshipping the things of the world as false idols - - a parallel to putting something before god, which is in defiance of the first commandment if we want to get biblical with these arguments. 

send me 👀 + a ship ( platonic / romantic / hate ) & i’ll give you 3 headcanons! (accepting) 

i . it takes them forEVER to actually finally get together. everyone in diagon alley knows their feelings for each other by the time the two actually “officially” get together. regulars at the leaky cauldron had bets running. their friends had bets running .it was a whole Thing. 

ii . they’re both giant herbology/plant nerds. like so, so much. they leave each other cute little messages in flowers. 

after a few attempts at giving vernon a present for his birthday only for it to be tossed in the rubbish bin, harry never mistakes the roof that is provided to him as affection from his uncle. he watches petunia shove crayons in dudley’s hand and prod the boy in the direction of his father with happy tears in his eyes as drawings are dropped to the delighted man’s feet. 

he makes something, once, for a man long dead. a small drawing of a life he was deprived of – a brown blob that matches a smaller brown blob. when it winks at his onlooking aunt she snatches the paper away and burns it. 

he doesn’t revisit the topic of that particular day for years. typically spending his time locked in a closet or a room, scraps of a meal shoved under the door while the family happily celebrates just how blessed they are without the nuisance hanging around. 

later on, he smiles at arthur’s archive of moving drawings from his children. every present saved from wilted dandelions to collections of lightbulbs. harry ignores the tug in his chest because it is easy, because it has always been there really. 

knowing his godson will feel that similar tug for the rest of his life, he stops by to visit teddy every year. they play and laugh and andromeda makes them lunch – an ordinary day for them. 

              ❛   my  sister,   chava,   is  the  reader.   i  don’t  really  know  what  my  thing  is  yet   —-   but  maybe  i’ll  find  out  soon,   eh   ?   ❜

it kept him up at night, the memories of what he’d done and the terrible guilt he had when his deeds were discovered. in narnia, the weight of it all had disappeared, replaced by aslan’s words. but it was DISCOMFITING to lie here, so far from cair paravel and his friends-turned-family. often, edmund worked himself into pacing, and this night had been no exception.

“ it’s different for you, lu. you could always see him  “ that familiar bitterness crept up on him; he caught himself with a shiver. it wasn’t fair to accuse her for something she could not remember – yet the knowledge that he held this alone was more lonely and terrible than he could bear.  “ i keep thinking … what if i go wrong again ? “

lucy was never much one for introspection --- she was who she was, she didn’t see the point of ruminating over past actions when her time could be better served growing as a person, or otherwise moving forward. therefore she had a difficult time sympathizing with her brother’s situation, though she could easily see how much it bothered him. 

she hated being that girl that waited by the mailbox, the girl that got dumped. but they didn’t know when she’d see him next. she didn’t know if he was coming back to alabama or if she was going to finchley. but, until everything was figured out, those letters were all they had. but then weeks of no writing turned into months and she started to lose hope. she wrote one asking if he was okay. when she got no answer, she wrote another asking what was wrong. but the last one was more of a goodbye, that she’ll leave him alone and she never wanted to see him again. the worst part was she didn’t hate him, no matter how much she really wanted to. 

she felt pathetic, at first. after a summer like that, she thought they would last longer, that maybe he’d even wait for her to finish school and they’d get serious. she’ll never admit she cried, that atticus and her sat on the bench swing on the porch talking about what happened for hours. but, after that, she moved on. she went to school, wrote for the high school newspaper, went to parties, went on dates, everything she used to do before. soon, she felt pretty normal. occasionally, she thought of him, wondered what he was up to, if he did exactly what he wanted. sometimes she even took out the letters he wrote in the beginning that made her smile and miss him. 

scout went to college in new york like she wanted, got an internship at a magazine. yes, she was essentially last on the food chain but it was something and fact checking was a start. besides, she was still in school and couldn’t do a lot. 

she was at washington square park to check a story that day. she even dropped her notebook and pencils onto the ground when she knocked into this stranger. “sorry.” she mumbled but then she heard her name. only one person that was young seriously called her jean louise and he was standing right there.

she was tempted to hit him in his stomach for never writing back, not even saying that he wasn’t interested anymore. but she couldn’t move. she stood there, staring at him as her heart pounded. she recognized him instantly, though he definitely got more handsome and mature since that summer. well, if she remembered correctly, he’d be out of school by now.