I Cannot Fucking Believe How Much I'm Losing My Mind Right Now Over Soy Sauce History. I'll Tell All

This was requested by @luwinaforna24 I made some alterations to your request and thank you for being so patient I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed reading it

Edmund

Warnings: none

“On no, you won’t be fighting me! You’ll be fighting him” Our high king Peter says to me while handing us our fence ing gear lucky for me I’ve been the best since I was a child so our kings need for proofing my ability will sadly be thrown in his face

“I don’t know if you’ll want that as she’s well she’s amazing” Caspian adds for me as it was him I followed into the forest to probably our deaths as we defy his father and Edmund just smirks at me standing in the ready and on the mark of Lucy we begin and it’s a back and forth for almost an hour when suddenly my sword is out of my hand and I’m against a tree with a point against my throat

“Again” I snap and we start again, and again and again and again and I lose again and again and again and I huff

“Seems your abilities are lower than we would have guessed” it seems Edmund begins to joke and o start walking over at him “it seems your foot is farther up your own-“ and that’s when my mouth is covered and Edmund just looks smug look smiling at me and oh do I want to smack it off his adorable face. No, wait no not adorable, annoying is the word I meant. We get back to the cave and I’ve calmed down and rested and I begin training again with those around me one after another falling at my sword but I couldn’t beat that stupid king child and it’s because of him that I’m not allowed to fight beside my best friend in this battle against our home because I couldn’t beat one man.

Little did I know he was standing in the corner watching me as I took down any who dared fight me, staring at me, little did I know I had a king who fancied me, who’s only want past the war was to kiss me, all I knew was that I was cast to the background for not being skilled enough and suddenly there was no one left to fight

“Come on no one else wants to fight me?” I scream begging for the ability to release my rage

“I will” and I look to the voice and I seeking Edmund and I nod

“Alright grab a sword stand your ground,” I say and he struts over to the swords

“Let’s make a wager shall we?” He asks and I nod as he continues

“If you win you fight alongside me, my brother, Caspian no questions asked,” he says and I nod before thinking

“And if you win?” I ask and he smirks at me

“You kiss me” and my eyes widen before I nod and get in position and we begin as I take the first swing

“So tell me, why is it you are so determined to fight with us?” He asks swinging for my legs which I jump over

“I do not wish to fight with you I wish to fight with Caspian” I snap and stab tword him and he dodged

“So you and he are together I wonder how he’d feel about our little bet” he jokes and I feel the wall against my back

“No I am not with him he’s my best friend and my king, I just wish to win” I snap grabbing his arm with one hand twisting his sword out of his hand, and flipping him against the wall with the sword against his neck and his hands go up

“You win! You will be in the front with us” he winks and I smile dropping the sword grabbing his face and kissing him as his hands rest on my waist and once I’ve pulled away I smile up at him

“You’ll learn I’m quite giving when I win” I wink before walking away to Inform Caspian of my battle plans for the war!

Ravenclaw Headcanon

Ravenclaws will go to great lengths just to prove a point.

For so long I’ve been trying to understand what exactly in Narnia made it the story that affected me in the most profound way in my young life and continued to stay there, gently nestled in my heart, for the entire duration.

Not Harry Potter, nor Lord of the Rings, but this weird little story about a girl and her stupid brother and a wardrobe and a lion, followed by this other story about this boy who always yearned to see the North only to discover he was the long lost crown prince (the Horse and his boy will always be my favourite Narnia story).

When I think of Narnia, the country, I think of the joy of discovering that things you find impossible yet beautiful could indeed happen. That there’s comfort for every aching heart, that if you long for something – something more, something gentle and sweet and at the same time great and fascinating and daunting – all your life, that means that this is where you were always meant to be.

That your bravery will be rewarded, that it is not stupid to believe in justice and to believe that people could be honourable and kind. That it’s okay to be naive when you’re young and it’s okay to trust people. That it’s okay even if your trust was misplaced, definitely don’t shut yourself out if you make a mistake, because you will be forgiven.

In our world, we’ve been taught to fear things since we were young. In Narnia, we were taught to trust ourselves.

In our reality, girls are punished for being too trusting or too pure and naive when they are kids, they’re taught by worried mothers and by society to be guarded and jaded and to expect disappointed and harmed, but in Narnia, Lucy’s pure heart and her faith in goodness were rewarded.

In Narnia, greatness lay in kindness and courage, whereas the alignment of our world is a bit askew and you’re supposed to be cunning and smart. These qualities aren’t bad, definitely not, but it goes unspoken that they’re supposed to contradict the first two qualities.

Most importantly, in Narnia you don’t have to wonder if God is real, if you’re protected. You know it. You’ve spoken to God, you’ve seen Him and it gives you this sense of rightness that all Narnians seem to have, and this sense of comfort and goodness the people in our world who doubt or don’t believe, don’t have.

If I have to sum up why I love Narnia so much even as an adult, I think it would be this: because, if only when you’re thinking of Narnia, you truly believe that it’s alright to trust your belief that there’s something More in this world, that you were born to be comforted, that it’s alright to be kind and courageous and gentle and this doesn’t mean that the world will fuck you over. That it’s alright to feel safe. That some higher power has your back and loves you and supports you and helps you. That it’s okay to trust yourself. And in these moments, when you think of Narnia, you feel Narnian, and that’s the best feeling in the world because you finally feel like you’re allowed to shed all your heavy, heavy layers of doubt and anger and cynicism and guardedness that the real world makes you wear. And you’re free. And when you go to a forest and you hear the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees, you don’t feel like you’re alone, you feel like you're home.

Back in June, my friend Mia invited me to Birthday More, a small adorable café recently opened by two lolitas. We then walked to Parfaiteria Bel in Shinjuku to have their famous parfaits. Since it was in the middle of the afternoon during a week day, there was almost no one there. (See extra pictures on my Instagram post) On our way back to the station, we saw those very pretty hydrangeas on the side of the street and took some photos. It was at the end of a long hot day wearing a mask, so excuse the tired makeup. For outfit and makeup details, see my previous post.

Let’s talk about a cat who spent a whole day waiting on a wall, while everyone else was celebrating, because she had heard something and she couldn’t believe it. Because people were laughing for the first time in years, and all she wanted to do was cry.

Let’s talk about a teacher who was strict and severe, but fair and caring. A woman who fought for her students until the very end, with her green robes and stern look, three silver cats flying out of her wand. And they fought for her too.

Let’s talk about Minerva McGonagall.

When Minerva McGonagall saw Harry for the first time, she didn’t see his mother living in his green eyes, like Severus would. She didn’t see James’ ghost in his shy smile, like Sirius; or a hero to be shaped by manipulative hands, like Albus. She didn’t even see an orphan, like the rest of the world did. She didn’t see the boy who lived. She just saw a boy, her student, and for her, that was enough.

Minerva McGonagall survived a war and all that came after. The funerals and the sorrow, but also the laughter that was back. She survived the ghosts and the mourning. She let her heart break over Lily’s death, her hands shaking because James would never make another joke; a sharp, disappointed pain over Sirius’ betrayal (they had been her students. They had been her children) and then she collected the pieces and moved on. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, Albus said once. And she didn’t dwell on dreams. She was stone and she would not shatter.

She survived a war, and, when she had already buried the dead and forgotten the nightmares, another one came. And she survived it too. She was a rock, and rocks may be weathered, but they don’t break.

When Fred and George Weasley abandoned the school, leaving behind a trail of cheers, admirers and laughter, and a petition (give her hell for us, Peeves), Minerva saw Umbridge’s fury and Peeves’ bow, and hid a smile in the corner of her lips. When Neville Longbottom came to her office, asking for advice, with his clumsy hands and a respectful fear in his eyes, she offered him a biscuit and some tea, and she gave him reassurance with her stern frown and her steady voice.

When Remus Lupin became the DADA teacher, she invited him to her office. She offered him biscuits too, some chocolate this time. They talked for a long time, about old times and forgotten joys, about four friends and their mischiefs and pranks. They looked back on their bets and their antics, their hopes and their dreams. They didn’t talk about death, not that evening, and the Marauders came back to life in that room, their voices rising and stealing pieces of a future they hadn’t gotten to live. They also talked about their students, homework and assignments, because they were teachers after all, and that was something worth remembering.

She gave him a knitted jumper for Christmas. He gave her a box of chocolates. Years later, she would stand by his grave and leave a single flower on it. A flower for the boy she’d known and the man he’d become. The man who was kind and quiet and healing. The man she’d like to have gotten to know better.

Albus died then, a shout and a blaze of green light. A fall, and it was all over. It felt like the end of an age. “Are the rumours true?”, she had asked, once upon a time. Now she wanted to ask Harry the same thing, trying to keep her voice from shaking, because Albus Dumbledore couldn’t be dead, could he? But then again, James and Lily couldn’t have been, either, and yet they had been, they were.

When the Second Wizarding War began, she stayed at the school. She kept teaching, because she was a teacher and she would not let them take that from her. Because her students were there, and she wouldn’t leave them alone. She wouldn’t let them die, all those brave children, if she could do something to save them. She wasn’t like Albus, who had prepared himself to sacrifize a boy in the name of the greater good. A boy’s life for the sake of the world.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, there was a destroyed castle and ashes. Minerva stumbled when she saw George’s desperation and Fred’s frozen smile. She wanted to cry when she came across Lavender’s body. She finally collapsed to her knees, when she found Colin Creevey. She had seen him this still, once before. But there were no mandrake leaves to save him, not this time. He was too young. He shouldn’t have been fighting a war, the brave and naïve boy.

Pomona Sprout kneeled next to her then, and Minerva sobbed on her shoulder.

“A boy”, she cried. “He was a boy, he was a child. Children, they were children.”

Pomona let her weep, and then she said,

“There are children here still. They are alive, and they need you, and more will come, and you’ll be there. And you’ll be fine.”

And she was right. Minerva collected the pieces once again, and she moved on. She sent a box of chocolates to Dennis Creevey, as Remus would have done, because he was so much better at being kind than her. Than any of them, really. Dennis sent her a photograph, an old picture of Albus and her, the Weasley twins laughing in the background. She met Molly Weasley for tea, and they shared anecdotes. And she went back to Hogwarts and she kept teaching, because she was a teacher before anything else. She became the new headmaster. The best one of them all.

Some years later, Neville Longbottom knocked at her door, asking for a job. She remembered all the times he had come, asking for advice with his stammering voice. She remembered the way he had led the resistance, the way he had stood up and defied the ones who had made his parents lose their minds. The way he had worked hard and stubborn, never giving up. She offered him a biscuit and some tea. She had never felt so proud.

When he left, she went through some papers. She looked up and the portrait of Albus Dumbledore winked at her. She smiled and went back to work.

When Teddy Lupin arrived at Hogwarts for the first time, expectation in his eyes and bright colours in his hair, he was nothing like the other orphan who had stared at her once upon a time, the one who had had skinny elbows and broken glasses. Teddy Lupin wasn’t looking for a family, he already had one. But, as she had done before, she saw another student, and for her, that was enough.

She was a teacher. Students were her children. And she was their rock.

💀

you were down for forever // fred weasley

Summary: the Battle of Hogwarts changed everything: Voldemort was gone, harry was free and Fred… Fred changed your world.

Request: nah I have no excuse for this

A/N: basically I was in the mood to write sad and I was listening to ‘if the world was ending’ by JP saxe & Julia Michaels and so, the extended title (bc I’m horrible) is ‘you were down for forever (it’s not fine)’ 

Reader: unspecified

Warnings: sad sad sad, spoilers I suppose???, death, panic attack

Keep reading

I’m rereading The Voyage of the Dawn Treader and I forgot how much fun it was! love Reepicheep and his constant longing for Aslan’s Country, to the point where he’s willing to die for it; his tendency to always want to do the honorable and knightly thing. (I find all the “bother Reepicheep” comments pretty hilarious, it’s like whenever he opens his mouth they’re forced to agree with him because he makes everyone else sound cowardly and dishonorable in comparison) And then there’s Caspian, always caught up between being king and being a boy, Lucy and Edmund enjoying everything in general and feeling so at home, Eustace annoying and being annoyed by everyone before Dragon Island—I specifically love his diary entries—and those little moments that you don’t get as much of in the other books because usually there’s some kind of important quest or war going on... like hearing them talk about what it will be like to fall over the world’s edge: Reep is thrilled by the idea, Eustace is understandably confused (“are these people flat earthers?” lol) and Caspian just wants to go to a “round like a ball” world which is apparently only a thing in fairytales.