#m: Lww

[western-woods]

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.

[fairmerthefarmer]

My take/designs on the pevensies! (They’re definitely heavily inspired by their looks in the movies.)

Beginning of the lion, the witch and the wardrobe

End of golden age-ish

I’d call this a WIP but it’s not really, mostly once we get into designing clothes in fantasy settings I feel very out of my depth, but I wanna practice more. I’m the most happy with Lucy’s but that’s also cause I most heavily referenced with hers.

Im mostly still just figuring out the clothes design for when they’re in narnia. I want brighter/more jewel toned and warmth to contrast with the more muted London clothes. And for the clothing design I want embroidery, but other than that I have no idea how I would make the designs of the narnian style in this era cohesive.

I also have vague main colours for each of them, lucy green, secondary red, edmund blue secondary brown, Susan purple secondary blue, Peter red secondary purple, and all of them use gold as well.

[fishfingersandscarves]

scene from the lion the witch and the wardrobe inspired by the west end cast

[applesandpavenders]

[awillowdryad]

'"That, O Man," said Aslan, "is Cair Paravel of the four thrones, in one of which you must sit as King. I show it to you because you are the first-born and you will be High King over all the rest."'

Okay so I painted this awhile ago and I did cheat a little in this scene because I didn't want to paint the Narnian camp and all those itty bitty tents! I also added the outline of Cair Paravel on the horizon.

Painted with watercolours! :)

[zannolin]

"how'd your parents die again?" | fatimah asghar

[meandmyrandomstuff]

In LWW Lucy meets Santa Claus and lives all her years in Narnia with the certainty that he exists. I can't help but imagine when she comes back to our world and her parents try to break down to her who Santa Claus is, and she's like "don't be silly, I know him personally"

[narniansteel]

Susan loved Narnia so much that she chose to forget it, because that hurt less.

[beardedmrbean]

[lucy-pevensies]

I am a princess on the way to my throne.

[blcodyhell]

Random Edmund Pevensie moments: 250/?

[strawberryghostss]

I am amazed that greta gerwig is taking on the narnia films but even more amazed that netflix remembered they owned the rights to narnia in the first place

[siriusblack-the-third]

Matching Misfortunes: Peter Pevensie

I binged read and watched the Narnia books and films, and idk what possessed me but I wrote. so. Let's go. Please check out the other parts for the other siblings!

.

Peter’s skin itches.

He heaves even breaths through his nose as he leans back to avoid the sloppy punch Easton throws at him, and stops himself from going for the throat for the third time in half as many seconds.

This is the fourth fight he has gotten himself dragged into since term began on Monday. It is Wednesday today, and Peter’s blood pounds in his ears, through his limbs and his flexing fingers as he holds back; doesn’t hit hard, doesn’t go for the liver or the heart or the head, does not give into the bloodlust that whispers siren songs of battle and blood-covered blades in his ears. He stops himself, clenching his fists and dodging the abysmal hits from the three boys that surround him, and refuses to lift a hand against these insolent children.

He is a King.

He is a boy stuck in a schoolyard brawl he did not start.

Peter’s skin itches.

He wants to claw it off— he imagines that this is what snakes must feel when their body gets much too big for their scales, and they have to go through the painful process of shedding their outer layer and come out stronger and larger. He suppresses a grim twist of his lips as he kicks out— harmlessly, wrestling against the lust that sings a song of death in his ears— at that idiot Michael’s knee to send him sprawling to the ground with a yelp, and thinks that what he went through was rather the opposite, really. He grew up, and then was forced into a body too unfamiliar, too awkward, too inexperienced. Too young.

He was a King.

He is a boy stuck in a body too unscarred to be a King’s.

Kenneth lunges forward to try and grab him around the waist. Peter easily steps out of the way, the part of him that is a seasoned warrior clawing to the forefront of his mind simply to scoff at the graceless flailing of limbs that these children call fighting. Lucy could do better.

Lucy did do better, twelve years ago. Or maybe it was five years ago.

The timelines blur together, in his mind; he can no longer tell whether he is in England or Narnia. He is wearing his school uniform and he is wearing his royal garments, he is walking the halls of Westbrook County Boarding School and he is walking the halls of Cair Paravel. He holds the blunted school practice broadsword in his hand and he holds the razor-sharp Rhindon in his calloused hands, he is a boy and he is a King.

“Fight back,” Easton snarls, dark brown hair falling out of its previously carefully styled place, and Peter thinks of how he has seen scarier Mice dig their teeth into the throats of Minotaurs and suck them dry of blood. He blinks, and the image of him sinking his own teeth into Easton’s throat flashes across his mind’s eye. He blinks again, and he’s back on this makeshift battleground where the mice are gone and his sword is gone and he is in clothes too uncomfortable and the skin is stretched taut over a body that is not really his—

“Fight back, Pevensie, you coward!”

High King Peter the Magnificent of Narnia, Commander of the Armies, Emperor of the Lone Islands, the Lionheart Warrior King, Protector of the People, wants to grab him by the throat and shatter his jaw into a thousand pieces for that grave insult upon his character. Instead, he laughs in his face and sticks out his tongue, like a small child.

He is nineteen, and he is thirty-three. He is not a child, in either world.

Sometimes, he wishes he was. Sometimes, he wishes he was thirteen and in his mother’s home, he wishes he had never left for Professor Diggory’s mansion.

Most times, however, he wishes for something he has almost given up hope for, something he was forced to give up five and a half years ago. He wishes, oh so dearly, for a faithful sword made of mithril in his hand and a heavy crown woven out of golden flowers on his head. He wishes for one last chance to step out of this world that was once his but no longer is, and into a world where he was once High King Peter the Magnificent, Commander of the Armies, Emperor of the Lone Islands, the Lionheart Warrior King, First of the Beloved Four, Protector of the Narnian People.

Easton yells as he lumbers forward, and Peter, too embroiled in old memories of running his fingers through the unicorn Ethrys’ snow-white mane while galloping through grassy fields, does not see the punch coming until it is too late. The loud smack of knuckles against flesh echoes through the school courtyard, and the impact of the heavy fist on his cheek is like an electric shock to his senses.

For a second, he blinks dazedly. And then his brain registers it properly. The pain flares, and with it so does blinding hot bloodlust.

‘Fine,’ he thinks as he lifts a hand to wrap his fingers around Easton’s forearm in a death grip, a high-pitched whistle echoing in his ears and red creeping into the edges of his vision as it zeroes in on the many weaknesses in the three boys’ defenses. ‘You want a fight? You’ll get one.’

It takes him four seconds to get the three imbeciles on their backs, one howling in pain from a dislocated shoulder, the other because of a broken nose and the third from a bruised kidney. His fingers flex around the hilt of a sword that he no longer owns, and he reminds himself that he is not allowed to kill, not in this world where he is not a King and does not lead wars.

He stares down at Easton, the image of a blood covered sword and a slain warrior at his feet flashing behind his eyelids when he blinks. He opens his eyes and the boy stares back, hand clutching his shoulder and face becoming paler and paler the longer Peter holds his terrified brown gaze.

“Don’t bother me again,” he says flatly to the three of them, and turns away, ignoring the teachers that are hurrying across the lawn with yells of his name tumbling from their lips. He lifts his gaze and locks it with Edmund’s for a second, brilliant blue meeting identical brilliant blue, before both of them turn away. One royal brother melts into the crowd of students without a whisper, and the other stalks off towards the dorms with blood on his ever-bruised knuckles and memories of a different world singing through the veins of a body that is too young for the mind it contains.

He is a King, celebrated and honoured for his services to a hallowed land.

He is a mere boy sitting on the roof of the boarding school, fingers flexing around the hilt of a sword that no longer belongs to him, nothing more than a memory he cannot let go of: a memory he refuses to let go of even after five and a half years.

[applesandpavenders]

Things that made the battle scene in The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe still the best battle scene I’ve ever seen:

Epic scenery

The MUSIC

The moment the music stopped and you just hear bodies colliding and shouts and the clatter of weapons. So chilling

How Peter’s battle strategies clearly reflect his experiences and values; he uses the griffin’s to essentially bomb the witch’s army and keeps Edmund safe out of range on the cliff. He uses the air space over the enemy as an important battle field which is often forgotten in fantasy battles (but was such a big deal in blitzed London)

The variety of of creatures in each army. The film uses this as a moment to world build on who lives in Narnia and establish what they value by who’s side they’re on

It emphasises how each unique creature is built different and how that effects the battle. A good example is how the tiny guy with the sword takes down the rhino (it’s a split second scene where the rhino looks like he trips but he was actually attacked)

There a unicorn, like, come on

Again, the silence that comes when the music stops just before the two armies collide. Exquisite

It’s not an overly gory battle, and it’s not made to look super grey or gritty, but it doesn’t glorify it either. It’s made to look epic but also terrible - there’s broad daylight and colour in each shot but the music adds weight to the deaths that happen

Just a huge amount of fantasy creatures that don’t look like robots. Those fauns look genuinely nervous

The way Peter consults the other leaders like the griffin and Oreius. He respects them

Peter’s glance over his shoulder to Edmund for reassurance

The way Edmund gives him a nod. SO cool.

It demonstrates how they’re both kings and although Peter is leading the army Edmund is also playing a vital role in the battle

[western-woods]

[awillowdryad]

I've always been dying to know what it was that Aslan said to Edmund in this conversation. Guess it's one of those things we'll just never know. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway I did this a little while ago but have been thinking of painting it again with brighter colours... maybe... then again I probably won't be bothered to. We'll see.