julietthenarnian - i have no idea what i’m doing.
i have no idea what i’m doing.

juliet | 18 | writeryou can pry stancy out of my cold, dead hands

52 posts

- Steve's Love Letter To Nancy

- Steve's Love Letter To Nancy
- Steve's Love Letter To Nancy
- Steve's Love Letter To Nancy
- Steve's Love Letter To Nancy
- Steve's Love Letter To Nancy
- Steve's Love Letter To Nancy
- Steve's Love Letter To Nancy

- Steve's love letter to Nancy

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More Posts from Julietthenarnian

6 months ago

Lucas: Please tell me you didn’t drag Steve into this.

Dustin: I did not drag Steve into this.

Steve: [knocks on the door]

Lucas: Who’s that?

Dustin: I think you know.


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6 months ago
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington

Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington

+ bonuses: robin caring about her dingus through physical touch

Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington
Steve "Physical Touch" Harrington

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6 months ago
(fuck It, Ill Do It Myself) Steve And Nancy Get Married80s Style
(fuck It, Ill Do It Myself) Steve And Nancy Get Married80s Style
(fuck It, Ill Do It Myself) Steve And Nancy Get Married80s Style
(fuck It, Ill Do It Myself) Steve And Nancy Get Married80s Style
(fuck It, Ill Do It Myself) Steve And Nancy Get Married80s Style
(fuck It, Ill Do It Myself) Steve And Nancy Get Married80s Style
(fuck It, Ill Do It Myself) Steve And Nancy Get Married80s Style

(fuck it, i’ll do it myself) steve and nancy get married ‘80s style


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7 months ago

bring back homeric epithets. call people brave-hearted, swift-footed, laughter loving and loud thundering. view the world with its rosy fingered and saffron robed dawns, its wine dark seas. make your own, walk across kiln fired earth and moss soft as sea sponges. be dew-eyed and soft-cheeked and silver-souled, deft-fingered and bright-tongued. gaze up at the many-storied stars and feel the warmth of the ancient sun, father of gods and men, as it beats down on the shimmering world, soft spun like caterpillar silk


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7 months ago

clean your sword

i. Peter had thought many times about dying for his brother, killing for his sisters, as all oldest children do.

ii. He'd imagined it a hundred times: how if his mother and father were ever killed, he'd get some low-skill job and make sure Lucy's clothes still fit her as she grew. How he'd make fists and fight dirty if Susan was ever threatened. What he'd do if Edmund ever had to flee the country on a dark, windswept night.

iii. Yet when he heard Susan's horn that day, he still froze. Only for an instant, he thought, "this can't be my job, right?"

iv. The blood on his sword shone red when it was all over. When he wiped it on the grass, the stain it left was almost black.

v. They'd put Susan in his arms when he was two years old. Peter didn't remember it, but he knew he'd been waiting for her till then. He wasn't a real person until he was a brother.

vi. And when they walked back to the pavilion, Rhindon bumping Peter's hip, all he could say to his sisters was, "I'm sorry I didn't come faster."

vii. The High King was almost obsessive in the way he cared for Rhindon. When he grew older and required weapons larger than those made for a child, he obsessed over them too.

viii. He told the others, in no uncertain terms, that if it ever came to it in battle, they were to leave him and live. As their brother and high king, he commanded it.

ix. The first time Edmund risked himself for Peter's sake, Peter didn't speak to him for a week.

x. He was oiling his sword when Edmund found him. "See, the thing is, Peter, being brothers goes both ways. If you can love me enough to die for me, than I get to love you just the same."

xi. Peter agreed with him then, to avoid the argument. He was sick of not talking to his brother. Yet privately, he knew that Edmund was wrong. That sacrifice was Peter's special prerogative, as the first-born.

xii. Back in England, his mother noticed that Peter had become more fastidious. She didn't notice that his protective streak has grown - and maybe it hadn't, really.

xiii. It was uncanny, how Peter would always show up just when his siblings needed him. He'd round a corner, and there was Lucy stamping her feet and scowling at a bully. There was Susan, crying, and now his knuckles were bloody.

xiv. He cleaned the blood off in the sink so carefully. The water ran red for a second, and it almost seemed black.

xv. When Caspian asked for the High King's advice, looking so very young, Peter jerked his chin towards the sword a Caspian's hip. "Be ready to use that," he said. "Keep it clean, and close."

xvi. Susan forgot Narnia and she forgot Aslan. Yet selfishly, Peter still hoped that she would never forget how quickly he came when she called.


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