Until The Stars Rain Down From The Heavens

…we ARE talking to you | main @to-be-frank-i-dont-care ✝

[always-a-king-or-queen]

I stumbled upon your blog while in a Narnia reimmersion haze. What can I say... except that your blog is awesome, especially the headcanons and fics. Thank you for being here, please keep this blog running! And have a good day!

HII yay I'm so happy you like it!! :D I need to be more active on here haha, I'm bad at updating my sideblogs 😂 thank YOU for sending this lovely message :3

[zannolin]

narnia movies + text posts (part 45)

[zannolin]

to the glistening eastern sea (4/4)

[high-king-of-narnia]

[archivingheartbeats]

Traveling Companion

(For Shasta in the fog.)

--

In the dark, in the dark–in the dark and cold–

Pines dripping, wind biting, and path untold–

A boy rides alone, and his sorrow seethes.

But something unseen at his side, it breathes;

Warm and deep and slow and wild.

A voice in the shadows comes, rich and mild.

It had waited long for him to speak,

Holding all answers he could seek.

If he wanted Truth, he had only to ask.

What lies behind his every task?

Whose are his sorrows, and whose his hope?

Who sheltered him there at the end of his rope,

That night in the tombs when ghouls he feared?

Who brought him in safely when death he neared

As a wailing child at the edge of the sea?

What lurks past his every memory?

In the dark, in the dark, triune voices call,

Echoing forth from a singular footfall,

And the fog's shroud is fading into white,

Caught up in a marvelous light.

[stardust948]

Last night, I had this weird Hunger Games/Narnia crossover dream where Peter and Edmund were trolling Snow SO HARD for still obsessing over Lucy Gray. It was great.

[zannolin]

listen. say what you will about prince caspian (2008). you are all entitled to your own opinions. but you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me andrew adamson didn't make the choice of a LIFETIME to start with caspian's escape into the forest. you can't. that was the greatest cinematic opening of all time barring NONE

[always-a-king-or-queen]

so I just found out that Aslan is likely going to be genderswapped in the new Narnia adaptation

and I uh

I have no hope remaining

[longlivethewindandthewaves-deac]

C.S. Lewis: oh and yeah, the stars are actually people who are functionally immortal (unless bitten by a witch who's shapeshifted into a snake) and come down to earth for rest periods wherein they look like normal humans and eat fire-berries until they can go be stars again, but they can be banished too and become magicians—

me: hold on

C.S. Lewis: keep up, there are also sea people (not mermaids) who have entire civilisations underwater, with dark purple hair and ivory skin, and they ride giant seahorses, and are very aggressive—

me: wait a second

C.S. Lewis: aren't you listening, because there is also a world underneath Narnia with many different sections, including one where Father Time sleeps until the end of the world, and a world underneath that called Bism where gems live and can be juiced like fruit—

me: just hang on a minute

C.S. Lewis: so you don't want to hear about how a centaur feeds both stomachs?

[midnightmart]

Attempted a Susan Pevensie and then gave up

[zannolin]

susan's horn becoming this great magical thing of legend that summons, essentially, narnia's saints back to it after a thousand years is crazy for many reasons but perhaps most of all because it didn't bring some mythic higher power or legendary hero when susan blew it the first time she needed help. no. it brought her big brother.

[thepunkpanther]

MY FAVOURITE 2000s MOVIES ↳ THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA: THE LION, THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE (2005) dir. Andrew Adamson

[always-a-king-or-queen]

As a boy king in Narnia, Edmund Pevensie once swore privately to the stars that should his siblings ever die in battle, he would die with them. Protecting them to the end, so their fear might be lessened by the thought that they weren’t alone. 

But irony would have it that the bloodshed of war did not bring about their end, but rather a train built of steel and glass, hurtling from its tracks onto the greenery of a steep English hillside.  

Edmund does not forget the promise he made so long ago, in another world he can no longer access. He remembers that promise in his final moments, as the train flips and rolls and flings him and his siblings like rag dolls. He feels it burning deep in his heart, feels the stars smiling somewhere in the distant past as he wraps his arms around Lucy and Peter and shuts his eyes a final time. 

Only a few minutes before the derailment, the three of them sit in an otherwise empty train compartment, silent and each occupied by their own thoughts. Edmund is gazing out the window at the flashing scenery when he gets the sensation that something is horribly wrong. 

There is a faint tingling that crawls suddenly up and down his spine, chilling him to the bone, and he sucks in a breath, eyes going glassy as the scenery blurs outside the window. For a moment he is back in Narnia, standing by Peter’s side, hair windswept and helmet tucked beneath one arm as he surveys the battlefield before them. He can almost see the army sprinting towards them over the lush grass, can almost hear the roars and yowls and screeches from both sides, can almost smell the tang of unspilled blood. His sword is nearly tangible in his fingers, heavy in his grip, the engraved hilt cold and familiar against his palms. 

The tingling against his spine swells into a roaring pressure, and Edmund is pulled roughly from the battlefields of his memory, jolting back into the present with violence. This feeling– this horrible, gut-wrenching, bone-crushing feeling that grips his throat and lungs– this is how he felt before his first battle against the Witch and her army. A sense of impending doom, scraping against his teeth with aggression and burning his heart; he knows it all too well. 

Edmund swallows again, missing the distant weight of his sword in his hands as he fully returns to himself. The train is shuddering slightly as they advance along the track, English countryside flashing by outside the windows. Next to him, Lucy hums the haunting melody of a dryad, idly sketching daisies in a blank page of her journal; across from Edmund, Peter flicks through a newspaper, brow furrowed with an intensity Edmund well recognizes from his brother’s days as High King. They are alone in the carriage, the rest of their traveling group crammed into a different car, and for the briefest, most traitorous of moments, it almost feels like their old days, just the four of them. Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy, together against the world. 

But Susan is no longer with them, and these are not their old days, and something is terribly wrong. 

“Pete.” Edmund keeps his voice even-keeled as always, and his brother doesn’t look up from his paper, simply answering with a distant “Hmmm?” that Edmund knows well enough to translate that he isn’t fully listening. Lucy, on the other hand, flicks her gaze towards Edmund, eyes bright and curious as always as she tips her head. Edmund doesn’t meet her questioning stare. If he dared to, she would read his face in an instant, and he doesn’t want to scare her without necessity. 

But then, he reminds himself with a self-directed scoff and a shake of his head, her title was Valiant. 

It will take more than his current fears to scare her. 

So Edmund pushes away his misgivings and tries again. “Pete,” he says a second time, louder than before. 

This time there must have been an edge to his voice, a sharpness that he’s rarely allowed to frame his words since his days as a bully. Peter looks up from his paper, seeming suddenly to recall that this was the tone Edmund always used in times of peril, and instantly recognizes the expression on Edmund’s face. Calm and controlled, but with an undercurrent of panic flickering at the edges. Panic that was not befitting of a king of Narnia, but that Edmund sometimes couldn’t keep from slipping onto his face in the early days. After all, he had only been a boy then, a boy king in a strange world. Now they are back in their own world, but it is foreign to them, and sometimes he is afraid.  

A touch to his arm. Lucy is leaning towards him, face earnest and undaunted. 

“You sense something, don’t you, Ed?” she asks him simply, and his final facade crumbles. 

He nods wordlessly, hands gripping the flaking leather seat of the train car. 

Peter moves to sit beside him, and Lucy watches them both, waiting. Edmund glances towards her. “Lu,” he says quietly, and reaches for her hand. She takes his willingly, her fingers squeezing his own, and he half-smiles, his other arm stretching towards Peter. 

The High King grasps his brother’s hand firmly, and Edmund exhales, his heart soothed by the wordless reassurance of his siblings. 

“I don’t know quite what is going to happen,” he tells them softly, voice gentle as a winter snowfall and soft as a shaft of sunlight in the western woods. “But something is coming.” 

He sees Lucy the Valiant swallow, her fingers trembling just slightly in his, and Peter the Magnificent lifts his chin, cold fear burning in his eyes. 

Edmund grips their hands tighter. 

“I won’t let anything happen,” he says fiercely. “To either of you.” 

It is a vain promise, but they cannot peer into the future. They cannot foresee the grinding, twisting metal and searing flames that await them, mere moments ahead. And so his siblings simply smile at him and scoot a little bit closer, holding his promise close and silently vowing to do the same for him. Peter sits tall and straight, his shoulder pressed against Edmund’s, and Lucy leans her head on his shoulder, her journal forgotten.

Edmund is just beginning to think that perhaps he was wrong when there is a deafening, thunderous screech from the front of the train, a grinding cacophony of clashing metal.  

The sound of the world ending. 

In the same instant, Lucy and Peter’s hands are ripped from Edmund’s with a feral violence. “Ed!” Lucy screams, thrown backwards against the wall of the car. Peter slams his head into the roof and slumps unconscious to the floor, and the car bucks wildly, windows shattering and spitting out shards of broken glass. 

Edmund tumbles head over heels as the train flips and rolls in its derailment, crashing into Lucy and Peter again and again as they each come dangerously close to being thrown from the broken windows, yet somehow escaping each time. He catches snatches of broken screams filtering from other cars, desperate and agonized, and swiftly pieces together that they have mere moments before the end.  

Lucy slams into Edmund again, hair askew as she scrabbles to grab hold of something, and Edmund wraps an arm around her, stopping her tumble midair. His other hand closes around the now-empty frame of a window, briefly anchoring them both, and the train slows suddenly in its maddening descent. Edmund has the distant thought that perhaps that is not mere coincidence, because the train seems to be rolling almost in slow motion, shards of glass flying past their faces as if in a dream. 

Peter, still unconscious with blood dripping down his forehead, tumbles over to Edmund and Lucy’s feet, faster than the train is currently moving, and Edmund makes a swift calculation. 

“Get down,” he says softly to Lucy, releasing her. She drops into a crouch next to Peter, and Edmund kneels beside her, taking a final look at the train car as it rotates with an almost magical slowness, allowing them to have a last moment together. 

Seconds. They have seconds left. He doesn’t know quite why he’s certain of that, but he is. 

Lucy has flattened herself against Peter, weeping softly and whispering with the irrationality of grief, “Wake up,” and Edmund wraps his arms over both of them and closes his eyes, hugging his siblings tightly with all the love he was never able to articulate aloud. 

“Goodbye,” he whispers, though peace fills his heart as light begins to glow through his closed eyelids. “I’ll see you both soon.” 

Lucy's hand finds his and squeezes it tight.

The train flips a final time, and glass and metal explode in a deafening burst of fire, smearing the sky in clouds of ash and smoke. A lion’s roar echoes briefly in the flames of the wreckage.

And somewhere, in a realm flooded with golden light, the Pevensies open their eyes.

[always-a-king-or-queen]

question for you guys: I've been thinking about uploading my tumblr fics to ao3, but I'm not sure whether or not I should upload them all into a multichapter-style fic with each different one as a separate chapter (but each one unconnected), or as totally separate oneshot fics. I'd appreciate if y'all could vote and help me out 💖

v o t e 🤨

multichapter-style fic (unconnected chapters)

each one as its own fic instead of grouped together

Voting ended onMar 25, 2025

I hope this wasn't confusing, anyway thank you 😌

[itspileofgoodthings]

the Narnia crowns from The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005) are some of my favorite costume props of all time, the opposite of embarrassing fantasy aesthetic.

[seriousfic]

The Lion King: It is impossible to CGI photorealistic lions who can also emote!

Chronicles of Narnia:

[ruffboi-mags]

i am so angry about how perfect this gif is.

[westernwoods]

you cannot divorce lewis’ writing from his christian morality and worldview. you just can't. i'm sorry to everyone who's been duped by this “narnia is just a fantasy story and i can interpret it any way i want” idea because that is just fundamentally untrue. if you don't read narnia through a christian lens you are unavoidably missing the thesis of the work. and you're making yourselves angry over something the author makes very transparent. just don't read it if you can't get with it.