Once There Were Four Children, By Liridi.

I can’t get over this lmaooo

sometimes i think about narnia and i vibrate out of my skin like...

you walk into a world you cannot understand, frozen and dying, and it is you who thaws it. you who kills the witch, you who breaks the stone table, you who slays the wolf. it is you who is crowned and it is you who wails for two worlds when the wardrobe doors shut behind you.

your skin never sits quite right and your teeth are too dull. there are wars in your bones and decades in your eyes before you can reach the telephone on the wall.

you are king. you are queen. they won't let you read the newspapers at breakfast.

it calls you back from beyond a train and from within paint. begs with bloody palms and salt-crusted cheeks. takes from you all that you can give - and sends you back.

you watch your sister fade.

you are a child twice and an adult once. and when you stand in your home again, with crushed bones and the smell of coal still in your nose, you watch them sneer at your sister.

your sister is the sun above you. she is, beautiful and stone-cast, alive in a world you could never stomach. she smiles, still, and stretches her skin over human bones.

she is no longer a friend of narnia. do you tell them it is her who has to bury you all and the stars that are falling from the skies in shards?

One Rookie and Grenade Grifball

I’m posting a lot more of this on AO3 later, but RvB stuff seems to thrive on Tumblr more. So, have a fun bit of competence, explosions, and sass from Agent Washington’s first time out with the Alpha Team of Project Freelancer.

*********************************************

“It’s not that hard to say,” York protests.

Maine rolls his eyes. “Faster,” he points out. Growling out Carolina in the field is difficult enough, and he’s just threatened to beat York into the floor if he keeps making Maine use more than one syllable to get York’s attention when they’re under fire.

“I get it, I get it, fine,” York gives in—and then they both look up as the leaderboard changes.

“Son of a bitch,” York mutters. Washington? The rookie who’s only two months older than the Disaster Triplets?

Maine makes a thoughtful sound.

“No, I didn’t expect him to be the one to replace Georgia, either.” Washington has just ranked into the top ten faster than anyone aside from Carolina, Maine, and York, knocking South Dakota’s smug ass out of fourth place. Right now, the rookie is sitting at number eight, below everyone else except Connie and Alabama, but the fact that he’s sitting at number eight instead of ten? That’s crazy. “Isn’t Washington still a teenager for another few weeks?”

Maine grunts. “Pilot.”

York sighs. “Yeah, I know. I was eighteen and stupid once, too.” Indulging in his pre-war bored kid habit of breaking-and-entering is where he should have started, but the UNSC doesn’t exactly look for self-admitted juvenile criminals to join the ranks. He still doesn’t know how the hell the Councilor and Project Freelancer knew about his old hobby, because York never got fucking caught.

When they meet with Washington again, this time with the rookie on the leaderboard as one of them, Maine stares at Washington in silence. Then he growls out, “Wash,” and that’s what sticks.

Keep reading

I will forever respect Animorphs for tricking kids who are just really into animals to read a book series by going “Hey you, you daydream about what it’s like to be a dolphin or a bird or a wolf? Have I got a book for you!” and then slowly radicalizing them with 50+ books of “There are no winners in war. Whatever ‘victory’ you perceive comes at the cost of sacrificing your own morals and killing the part of you that is human. In the end you will resort to murder, torture and war crimes and the knowledge of what you have done will haunt you for as long as you live.”

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