no shit autumn

I just cleaned out my drawers and refolded and moved around clothes. Now I have more space in the drawers and space on my hangers. I also neated up my shoes so I might actually be able to find a pair when I need to. Also: i gotta learn how ot make a quilt out of old tee shirts. As usual we may place reasons with @copperbadge because of autumn cleaning. 

It’s probably not a secret that I’m madly in love with Lucien. I’ve written and read plenty of meta about him to gather a general insight on what the ACOTAR fandom thinks of him. Often I find that people see him as a tragic character that’s going to either rise or fall to the occasion— and I can relate to that method of thinking. However, I’ve begun to notice that a lot of these comments about Lucien are, in fact, very misleading and are almost always full of double standards. For instance, these are a few of the classics:

  • “I want him to succeed but not until he repents.”
  • “Lucien should just leave Tamlin. He’s a High Lord’s son, right? He’s should be able to just walk out spewing fire everywhere.”
  • “He’ll ally with the Nigh Court after Feyre uses Elain as bait.”
  • “Lucien isn’t as damaged as Feyre, and she managed to escape.”

And on, and on…

It’s disgusting.

I’m going to try to keep this as calm and educational as possible (even though on the inside I’m typing in caps and being bitter) so let me address the first issue with the above statements: they’re all unrealistic, contain harmful representation of a person suffering abuse, and are brimming with double standards. Lucien doesn’t need to repent. I’m tired of seeing this as a scapegoat for readers to think that “after character does X they will be deemed good enough and receive Y at the ending.” Lucien doesn’t need to be forgiven for trying to survive. He’s a victim of immense abuse (*see horrific references below) and he’s only ever acted accordingly to what would keep him alive. I realize that the main scenario readers want Lucien to apologize for is the scene in ACOMAF where he tries to take Feyre back to the Spring Court. Let me break this down for you all.

While the event was definitely one portraying him as an antagonist, Lucien still believed that the Night Court was evil and manipulate— especially where the mind is concerned. Rhysand literally can place claws inside of a persons mind, and he once threatened Lucien to step aside or have the Autumn Court and his mother executed. (We all know it was for show, but did Lucien? Of course not.) So when this girl, who was deeply in love with his only friend, disappears and is found with a new, wicked attitude that matches Rhysand’s to an extent and Illyrian wings to boot…hell, if I were Lucien I’d probably think some mind control had come into play as well. This is where things get a bit tricky, however. Lucien does realize that Feyre looks healthier and seems to be better off in the Night Court, but he’s not certain if it’s real or a compulsion. Given that he has no way of knowing the truth, and that believing Rhysand had truly helped Feyre get better after Rhysand’s last encounter with Lucien had been full of threats, I’m lead to believe that Lucien was trying to help Feyre escape, even if it meant brining her back to Spring. We also have to consider that Lucien, although having shown signs of being wary of Tamlin’s behavior,  still loves Tamlin because he offered him a home when his own brothers chased him out of his court. So if Tamlin orders him to do something, Lucien will do it out of loyalty and fear. Loyalty, for what he thinks he owes Tamlin because he’s never known what it’s like to be free, and fear because he knows Tamlin will lash out violently if he doesn’t get his way.

The second and third points I’ve stated are probably the worst I’ve seen. Lucien is the seventh son of the High Lord of Autumn, so he more than likely has magic that can rival other High Fae and, possibly, even High Lords. However, we have to consider that Lucien never reveals his magic for a few reasons. He could not know how to control it because no one may have bothered to show him. He could be terrified or disgusted with it, because fire (and let’s assume it’s fire magic) can cause devastating destruction. Or he simply doesn’t have enough power to rival Tamlin’s, and he knows this so he doesn’t try because the one time he DID stand up for himself, when he announced that he would leave his family’s court, he was hunted down.

Much like using one person’s love for another is a prominent motif in this story, Elain could potentially be used as bait for Lucien to “behave” himself in the Spring Court because he probably knows Feyre is up to something. This is wrong and deceitful for so many reasons. If Lucien is to have a character arc that rivals the main character’s own development (which I firmly believe he will) then he needs to come about this revelation on his own terms, not because of someone else— not matter if they’re his mate. If Elain were to be used against him, that would only further his abuse. This would be manipulating and traumatizing a PTSD and abuse survivor. He’s already lost one person he loved, and to dangle his mate in front of him for his cooperation won’t make him realize he’s more than he believes himself to be— it will only continue to make Lucien think that he’s worth less than those around him. Also, Elain doesn’t deserve to be treated like a piece of meat, much less by her sister (so I doubt this will happen, but it agonizes me to continuously see this theory).

On the topic of which character faced more abuse than the other, it’s nonexistent. We should never compare two characters’s trauma for the sake of figuring out who deserves the most sympathy. That’s so incredibly offensive and WRONG.  This applies to all situations, books, and real life events, but for this rant I’m applying it to the concept that Feyre suffered more than Lucien and therefore calling Lucien an abused character like Feyre doesn’t mean anything. It’s important to note that I strongly disagree with this, and that I think their suffering is equal in that they’ve felt it both so strongly that it’s ruined parts of their lives they can never get back. No suffering can be measured, for everyone feels it differently. That being said, Feyre and Lucien DO contain many parallels together—mostly that Lucien is exactly in Feyre’s position, stuck between loving Tamlin and fearing him, but he doesn’t have a Rhysand to help him escape.

*

  • He was treated like dirt in his homeland. 
  • His lover was murdered right in front of him as he was held down by his family.
  • When he stood up for himself and told them he was going to leave Autumn, his brothers hunted him down and tried to murder him.
  • He’s never had real friends aside from Tamlin, so he doesn’t understand how a real friend should treat their friends. 
  • Tamlin helped kill one of his brothers, and Lucien feels indebted to him.
  • Lucien is known as the drunk, flirtatious courtier/spy that isn’t stable and cannot remain in a single court. This has definitely effected the way he thinks about himself and his self worth.
  • Amarantha used Lucien as a flogging board when Tamlin didn’t obey her.
  • Lucien’s eye was ripped out because he once again tried to stand up for himself on a task that wasn’t even his own.
  • No one has even tried to help him battle his PTSD, so it’s only festered
  • Ianthe pursued him and tried to rape him but he managed to escape her
  • Lucien has never had someone to talk to about these things.

Bottom line, treat Lucien better. He deserves so much more.

2

Soo I watched In A Heartbeat about 15 times in the last few days (and I will eventually try to draw them in my style but their designs were too cute not to try to draw them as they were)

sign me the FUCK up 👻⚡️🔦🎃 spookY shit spo౦ky sHit👻 thats 🎃 some spooky🔦shit right🎃👻th 🎃 ere👻🌙🎃right👻there ⚡️✔👻if i do ƽaү so my self 🎃 i say so 🎃 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉmMMMMᎷМ✔️ 👻🎃🎃👻 🔮🌙🎃НO0ОଠOOOOOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👻🎃🎃👻👻 🎃 ✔️ 👀👻👻🎃✔️spooky shit 🎃⚡️
“Platonic” Bed-sharing: A Snowbaz Fic

In which there is much Snowbaz fluff. 

Disclaimer: All characters and locations belong to Rainbow Rowell!


“Snow. No”

“Snow yes!”

Simon Snow is a complete nitwit. Baz thought.

The two boys were at a standoff. Baz always knew that Simon was plagued with nightmares. Some nights the sound of the curly-haired angel of a boy would keep him up until faint streaks of sunlight drifted through their bedroom door. He had never gone off in his sleep though. This was certainly new.

“Please Baz! My spine is too fucking boney to sleep on the ground. Do you want me to be miserable all night?” He was pleading now, his blue eyes wide, accentuating his freckles.

He was standing there in their chamber looking like an innocent child in a too-tall body. He was hugging a spare blankets and a pillow to his chest. His lanky, skinny limbs looked even skinnier in his baggy Watford pajamas. All his scone eating hadn’t done anything to increase his weight. Must be the pressure of seventh year getting to him.

“As a matter of fact, yes I do want that.” Yes, get bruises all over your perfect back you idiot. That’s what you get for being so attractive.

“If you don’t share your bed I’ll make sure you’re miserable all night too!”

It was a measly threat to Baz. He was already miserable enough every night to have the Mage’s Heir tormenting him through his presence every day and night. He rolled his eyes and smoothed out a single wrinkle in his bedsheets.

“Don’t ignore me! It’s just for one night. I won’t even touch you, I promise.”

Baz fluffed up his pillow. He could physically feel Simon’s glares.

“Come on man! S’not my fault Watford doesn’t have any spare beds lying around!” There was an intoxicating electric tingle to the air. Simon was getting too worked up about this. “If I have to sleep on the ground because of you I will go off on your bed and we’ll both be cold and sore from sleeping on the fucking stone floor.”

That was certainly a threat Simon could get away with doing, despite the anathema. Damn him. Baz thought.

“Okay. Fucking fine!” It came out more harshly than Baz intended.

Simon took a step back, the threads of his magic retreating immediately. It was certainly frightening how closely tied Simon’s magic was to his emotions.

“Thanks. I promise. This is just for tonight. I’ll build a spare bed myself if it means I don’t have to sleep with you.”

Baz snorted. Simon. Building something. Now that would be something. He sighed in annoyance as he realized sharing a bed with Simon would make it extremely difficult to sneak of to drink tonight.

“I’m going to change into my nightclothes. Make yourself at home, Snow.” He said sarcasm dripping from his voice like water from a leaky faucet.

Simon nodded. He looked exhausted.

Baz went to change his clothes in the bathroom. He stared at his own grey eyes in the mirror. His pupils were dilated and if he had more blood in him, he would probably would look flushed. He felt a surge of nervousness and anticipation.

Sharing a bed with Simon Snow. Simon fucking Snow. How on bloody earth am I supposed to not kiss the moles on his neck if he is bloody next to me?

This would certainly be a long night.

Emerging from the bathroom, Baz saw Simon fixing up a sheet to work as a divider in the middle of their already small twin bed.

“What the fuck are you doing Snow?” Baz asked incredulously.

“I thought it’d be more comfortable if there was a like… physical barrier between us.”

“Whatever floats your boat you nitwit.”

Baz carefully folded his Watford sweater, placing it in a drawer, and hung up his trousers. Then he stood by his bed, eyeing a reclining Simon.

“I promise I won’t bite or go off on you tonight Baz. And don’t even think about doing anything to me. Anathema, remember.”

Baz rolled his eyes and climbed into bed. He laid on his side, facing away from the boy he wanted to kiss ever since they met. Simon had already turned out the light. It was just the two of them now. Lying side by side. Lit by moonlight.

This would be incredibly romantic if were an entirely different pair of boys. And both gay.  Baz thought.

He heard Simon sigh. He could feel heat radiating of him in waves. He was so hot. Baz didn’t understand why Simon even bothered to use a blanket. He was already a walking furnace. In more ways than one. Baz swallowed, bit his tongue and did his best to repress the urge to turn and kiss the living hell out of Simon.

Moments passed in silence. Simon’s breath faded into a rhythm. But it wasn’t how he sounded when he was sleeping. More like he was relaxed.

Baz was not relaxed. It felt like every atom of his undead existence was on edge. He was going to have to spend at least eight hours lying like this with the boy he loved and wanted most lying next to him. This was all a terrible mistake.

A gentle touch and a whispered “Baz!” made his entire body flinch. The hand immediately retreated and Baz immediately wished it back.

“Blimey Snow! What the fuck do you want?” He turned to look at the boy.

It was a mistake.

Simon looked ethereal. His eyes were soft and tired. His bronze hair was silver and shone under the starlight. His lips. Crowley his lips looked devourable.

Baz swore he felt his vampire heart have a seizure in his chest. He was tingling all over. This was a mistake. He should just go stalk the Watford grounds and sleep under a tree or some shit. Even a cold Autumn night spent outside would be better than this infernal torture.

“Baz. Why are we like this?”

“Like what, idiot?” Baz spat a bit.

The bead of saliva landed on Snow’s pillow. Baz wished it had landed on Simon’s face. Then he wished he hadn’t thought that.

“Why do we hate each other?”

Baz sighed in exasperation. But some force he wasn’t entirely in control of made him turn completely onto his side and face Snow full-on.

“I don’t know! Maybe my parents hate your adopted father because he stole all that was good from our family?” Baz’s words raised in volume. 

He was getting annoyed.

Annoyed that Simon looked so calm. Annoyed that they could kiss right that moment Annoyed they weren’t kissing. Annoyed that it was even a possibility in his mind. He wanted to glare at Simon. But he was so tired. And thirsty.

This was a mistake.

Simon was silent for a moment. He seemed to be studying the wall behind Baz. Then he was studying Baz’s face and time seemed to stop.

“I’ve just been thinking a lot, Baz. None of this stupid rivalry makes any sense!”

“Welcome to the real world.”

“Sure. But right now. I’m scared.” Simon’s voice was getting soft and small.

He was so small and pale and delicate in that moment. Baz felt an insuppressible need to protect him. It made his heart feel like it could burst out of his chest and fly away.

“Scared?” Baz found his voice was getting softer now too.

Why. Why? He needed more control than this. Everything that was expect from him wasn’t what he really wanted. He had to stop his feelings. But he couldn’t. He had made a terrible mistake.

“I’m scared of the Humdrum. Of losing the people I care about. Penny. The Mage. Agatha. You.”

Baz coughed in suprise. Not a sarcastic cough. A genuine “what-the-fuckity-fuck” cough.

“I’m scared of sleeping tonight because I don’t want to wake up and find that I’ve destroyed everything I love.” Simon looked almost like he was going to cry.

“Are you afraid you’ll go off again tonight?” Baz asked.

Simon nodded ashamedly. Baz didn’t really feel concerned that Simon could hurt him. He felt concerned that Simon was sad. They laid there in silence, staring at each other.

Then, then, Simon took the sheet that was separating them, cast it aside, and flung his arms around Baz. Baz was too shocked to react for a moment. He couldn’t exactly fathom how this moment was real. Slowly, he wrapped an arm back around him.

“S-simon?” He managed.

“Sorry.” He muttered into Baz’s shirt. “I think I just needed a hug.”

“You want a hug from your mortal enemy in a bed?”

Baz could feel Simon sigh in response. Then he drew back but not that far back.

“I don’t know.”

“Alright.”

They stared at each other. Baz knew his eyes probably looked as wide as Simon’s did. What did this all mean? What was Simon trying to accomplish through this? Did he know how Baz felt and was trying to manipulate him?

Manipulation or not, whatever Simon was doing was working.

Simon’s hand encircled his and he froze.

Physically and mentally, he froze.

Baz had so many questions. So many demands to make.

Why did Simon care about him?

Why on earth did Simon think hugging the boy who had only made him miserable would accomplish anything?

Why were they holding hands in a bed?

What the fuck was happening?

Why were they not kissing?

They should kiss.

He wanted Simon to kiss him. He wanted to kiss Simon.

“Simon?” He whispered.

“Kiss me.” Simon whispered back.

And he did.

i absolutely hate fallout shelter because i got some fellow called colonel autumn and i dont know who or what that is but i know that he has like 45 million charisma and i accidentally put him in the living quarters cause i am out of space and he currently has like 20 accidental kids, he has kids with half of my vault, i hate him, he ruined my natural order of things and he will be exiled effective immediately.