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umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken · 8 days

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@achaotichuman

YES YES YES TO ALL OF THIS

If you've watched the movie 'Enchanted', I was soecifically thinking of the scene where Prince Edward kisses Giselle, but it doesn't work so Robert has to be the one to break the curse and he realises that he loved her the entire time, BUT MAKE IT TAMCIEN!!!

Day 6: Fairy-tale [Rapunzel au]

The Golden Lord in the tower

Art found on @forestoffairytales page.

@tamlinweek

His eyes cracked open with the first light of dawn, flinching at its intensity. He pulled himself to his feet, cracking his neck and spine. Last night had been… eventful, if the trails of blood and pile of bones in the middle of the tower were anything to go by. The beast had certainly been ravenous last night, and if the morning spoils were anything to go by…

He looked over his shoulder, and groaned at the sight. Yards and yards of utterly filthy hair.

Wonderful.

He didn’t bother with his robe as he strode over to the clawfoot tub, snapping his fingers to conjure hot water and lavender oil. He busied himself with gathering the necessary tools as the lavender slowly began to scent the air.

Tamlin's annoyances could be easily solved with a charm or two, but there was something soothing in this ritual, of preparing the bath, and selecting his favourite oils, of being surrounded by blessedly hot water and letting his aching bones unwind.

He clambered out of the tub hours later, thoroughly drenched and warmed to the bone, his hair blessedly clean. Tamlin settled himself down on the cushion before his mirror and ran a thorough drying spell over his hair before reaching for the symphonia balanced on the small side table, turning the knob and smiling as music began to pour from the little egg-shaped device. Humming along to the music, he gathered his hair into three bunches and began to braid.

<><><><><><>

Lucien

<><><><><><>

He broke through the wall of blackened thorns, the gnarled spines snagging on his clothes and pulling at his arms. He gritted his teeth against the stinging pain, summoning fire to his palms and burning his way through.

His chest ached with every breath and the skin there burned, oozing with pus, the blisters having burst long ago. He let out a low moan, panting through gritted teeth. He could only pray to the Mother that his false trail was convincing enough to buy him enough time.

You’re almost there. Just a bit farther, you’re almost through.

Once he crossed over into Spring, he would be able to find sanctuary there.

He swung his arms wildly, and the thorns crumbled to dust underneath his flaming palms. Suddenly, a great tower came into view in the near distance, but it was far enough that now with his injuries, the thought of crossing the tall, knotted grasses to reach the tower made his legs quiver.

It was tall and round, made from grey stone with an arching window. There were long, deep slashes in the stone all up the height of the tower, as if carved there by a giant beast. For a moment he simply stared, then he shook himself from his daze and ran closer, his hands running around and around the wall of the tower, and yet finding no entrance. Again, round and round he went, each time hoping desperately that a magical entrance might make itself visible to him.

No such luck. The tower remained impassive towards his frenzied searching. His heart plummeted to his stomach and he cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting up at the tower window.

“HELLO?! HELP! PLEASE HELP ME!”

He sank to the grass, panting. There was no use trying to climb the tower. His entire body sang with pain, and his eyes were slowly fluttering shut. He was going to die here.

With a soft thwump! a rope tumbled out of the window and landed by his side. It was as thick as his arm and tied in a loop, so that he could sit himself within and be pulled up comfortably.

“Thank-you,” he croaked, turning his face upwards towards the fading sun. “Thank- you.”

He clambered onto the rope loop and tugged on it twice. Immediately, he was being lifted upwards. Lucien took the opportunity to rest his head against the rope, nestling his cheek into the soft fibres. Blearily, he thought to himself that it seemed as though the rope were made of gold.

He cleared the window and tumbled through, landing on cool stone. His head pounded uncontrollably. Footsteps came closer towards him, and he turned his head to thank his rescuer, but his eyes were growing heavy, and the last thing he could see as his vision began to fade was a hand reaching out to him.

He woke with a start, and he winced at the sudden movement. Lucien looked down at himself, and saw a clean, white bandage wrapped around his chest. A clear, crisp scent came from the bandages, and he guessed that whoever had treated his burns had used essence of Calma Lily. He blinked again, finally coming to as he reached his arms up in a stretch, only to find that he couldn’t.

He was bound to a plush armchair, and the rope hat held fast to him was not rope at all, but a thick braid of golden hair.

“Mother above.” He whispered.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” A voice came from nowhere, followed by a shuffling noise. Then Lucien yelped as a figure leapt down from the ceiling beams, landing just before him with a light thud.

His vivid green eyes lighted on Lucien, lips turning up into a smile.

“I'm Tamlin. Are you feeling alright?”

“Uh… My name is Lucien…”

Lucien’s rescuer was barefoot, his muscular body clothed in a simple linen shirt and dark green trousers. His hair was long and golden, and gleamed in the daylight. It was braided in a long rope that wound around the tower room before wrapping around Lucien and his chair.

“What the fuck is happening?” he asked aloud, more to himself than anything.

“Ah,” Tamlin winced, “Yes. I’m sorry that I had to restrain you. I didn’t know how you would react once you awoke. You were… quite fitful in your recovery. But the healing draughts and poultices worked well, and your burns should be healed by now.”

Lucien murmured his thanks, “How long have I been asleep?”

“Four days and four nights. You had quite a fever.”

“Fuck. Did I… say anything while I was sleeping?”

“No.”

Tamlin’s green eyes were bright with curiosity. Lucien could tell that he was trying to figure out what had happened to him, how he had come to be here with burns all across his chest and a fever riding his heels.

“Well,” he began, “Thank you for allowing me refuge in your tower, and thank you for healing my burns and allowing me to rest here, but if you could… let me loose?” he wriggled his hands for emphasis.

“Yes, well. About that.” Tamlin stepped closer to him, hands locked behind his back.

A flare of panic jolted down Lucien’s spine.

This was it. This had all been a trap. His father’s men were circling the tower right now, ready to bring him back to the Autumn Court. He prayed for a swift execution, but he knew his father too well to put too much hope in it.

He took another step forward and Lucien snarled, twisting his body as hard as he could to get away from him. His hands were tightly bound to the armrests, but his legs were still free to kick and thrash.

Tamlin started backwards with a swear, his green eyes widening with confusion.

“You’re fucking insane if you think I’m going back to the Autumn Court,” he seethed, “I’d rather die right here in this miserable tower.”

“What? Oh, no, no, no!” Tamlin's expression cleared and he shook his head vigorously, “No, I only meant to say that since I offered you refuge, and tended to your wounds, and healed you… you now owe me a favour?”

Lucien blinked, "A favour?" he repeated.

Tamlin nodded slowly, hands still raised between them.

"Yes, a favour. Just a favour, in return for the one I did for you."

He narrowed his eyes, still suspicious. “… What kind of favour?”

Tamlin licked his lips. “Perhaps I should start at the beginning, and tell you how I came to be here?”

He took in the other male’s hopeful expression, his body still tense.

But, if Tamlin had truly meant him harm, why would he bother to bring him up here? Why would he bother to heal him?

“Fine.” Lucien sighed tiredly.

"It's quite a long story."

Lucien snorted, waggling his bound hands. "I've got nowhere else to be." he said dryly.

Tamlin offered him a small smile, conjuring an armchair of his own.

“It started with a general from King Ennis’s army. Amarantha. She had been sent from Hybern on the King’s order as an assist for my father.

They became friends of a sort, and one day my father brought me along with him and my brothers to tour the war camps. That was the first time I’d met her, and she instantly took a liking to me.

I’d brushed off her interest at the time. After all, I was barely a grown male. But she was relentless. Years and years went by, and still she persisted. By that point, I had seen for myself her callousness, her cold nature and utter monstrosity.

It disgusted me. I wanted nothing to do with her.

I turned two hundred, and my father insisted on hosting a ball to commemorate the occasion. I protested, but he wouldn't hear it. I didn’t know why he was so insistent on the matter, but now…

She was invited, of course. Right there, in front of all the assembled guests, she asked for my hand. My father immediately agreed, but I rejected her.

I told her that she was a monster, a cruel being who killed for killings sake and who could never hope to understand the true bearings of a leader.

And so, humiliated and enraged, she cursed me.

‘You speak of monsters? Then you shall become one! Each night, you will become a hideous thing of anger, there will be no room in your heart for goodness then. This shall be the way, until the day you die!’

Then she vanished.

My father was outraged. I had humiliated his friend and ally. He would have nothing more to do with me after that, but my mother was distraught. She travelled to the Dawn Court herself and begged the High Lord to give her a cure. He gave her this.”

Tamlin held his palm out over his heart, then breathed deeply. A glowing sphere of light slowly began to emerge from his chest.

“He couldn’t give her a cure, but he could give her a loophole.

For every beast desires love,

then let it be a cure.

To save the beast,

true love’s first kiss

must freely be bequeathed.

He closed his hand back over his chest, returning the precious loophole back to it's place.

“Since that day, I have been here. The beast is too uncontrollable. I was- I am a danger to my Court. So I chose to come here, to live in this tower until the curse could be broken.

You cannot even begin to imagine how many times I have tried to leave this place, to break the curse, but it has never been possible. I would always change into the beast at nightfall, and he would always bring me back to the tower.”

Tamlin's eyes gleamed bright. “I had begun to lose hope, until you.”

Lucien’s brow furrowed. “… Me?”

“The beast fears fire. I don’t know why, but whenever a fire has been lit, I have been able to remain as fae for longer. Perhaps in its primitive mind, fire means daylight. But even then, all fires go out eventually. But you… You’re of the Autumn Court. Not only that, you’re of the High Family. You possess the power of flame.”

He fought to keep his voice measured. “I do.”

“Then you can help me!” Tamlin's chair squeaked in protest as he scooted ever closer.

“My request to you is this. Some with my on my journey. Keep a flame lit through the night to keep the beast away until daylight and help me to break my curse!”

Lucien’s head spun and he had to close his eyes for a moment. “How do you know this will work?”

“It has to,” Tamlin said determinedly, “I can’t accept any other possibility.”

Lucien shook his head. “No. I can’t. I need a safe place to hide, somewhere I can take refuge, not to go gallivanting across the Seven Courts for some half-cocked plan that you’re not even sure will work!”

“Please, I need your help.”

“Anything. Anything else, I will do it willingly. But I cannot do this. I’m sorry.”

Fear began to clench at his heart.

His brothers were still out there somewhere. Even if he’d wanted to come with him on this death-trap of a journey, he would always need to be on alert. Eris wouldn’t come after him, he somehow knew that, deep in his heart. But that still left five of their brothers, and that wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.

“Please-”

“STOP!” Lucien roared, blood pounding in his ears, “I suppose that’s the only reason that you bothered to save me, isn’t it? You peeked out of your tower, saw my hair, and saw that I was Autumn, and immediately thought of how you could use me for your own means.”

“That is not true!” Tamlin snapped back. “I saw a male in need of my care, and I acted. I pulled you to safety, and then I took care of your two hunters. Your brothers, I presume, you all have the same red hair. At least you’ll have two less to worry about from now on!”

Lucien’s brain stuttered, “You… what?”

Tamlin turned his head away stubbornly, his golden braid whipping over his shoulder.

Palms of flame, burning flesh, his own screaming, Jesminda… pain lighting across his body, running, running, tearing his skin on blackened thorns… laughter echoing behind him…

“They’re dead?”

A huffy sigh.

“They breached the thorn wall soon after you made it up here. When I went down there, I smelt the ash on their hands. The same from the burns on your chest. I took care of them.”

“I-”, he swallowed thickly. “Thank-you.”

Tamlin only nodded once.

He sighed. Well, that certainly changed things. And he had to admit, two against three sounded much more likeable than two against five. Still, he took a long while to think it over, the silence stretching between them.

“…Where do you want to go?”

Tamlin's head snapped up comedically fast.

“You’ll accompany me?”

“First, tell me where we’re headed.”

“The Night Court.”

Lucien blinked, then sighed. “Of course we are.” He made to scrub at his face wearily, but remembered that he couldn’t, and sighed again. Of all the Courts, of course they needed to go to the one on the other side of all of Prythian.

“Who in the Night Court do you seek?”

“Rhysand, son of the High Lord of Night.”

“Mother and Cauldron bless me thrice, the blows just keep coming.” Lucien groaned.

“Do you realise just how impossible this journey is going to be? It’ll take three, four days at least just to reach the Night border. Not only that, do you have any idea how you’re going to get inside? How you’re going to get an audience?”

“I suppose barging into the place and loudly declaring that I’m the third born son of Spring and wish to have an audience with the Lordling of Night isn’t what you had in mind?” Tamlin said wryly.

Lucien sighed again. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"... So..."

"I accept, and I will accompany you on this journey.”

The smile he received in answer could have lit up a thousand skies.

“You are my saviour,” Tamlin breathed.

“Yes, yes. Now could you please let me out of your hair?”

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umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken · 8 days

Text

Day 6: Fairy-tale [Rapunzel au]

The Golden Lord in the tower

Art found on @forestoffairytales page.

@tamlinweek

He looked over his shoulder, and groaned at the sight. Yards and yards of utterly filthy hair.

Wonderful.

Tamlin's annoyances could be easily solved with a charm or two, but there was something soothing in this ritual. Of preparing the bath and selecting his favourite oils, of being surrounded by blessedly hot water and letting his aching bones unwind.

<><><><><><>

Lucien

<><><><><><>

You’re almost there. Just a bit farther, you’re almost through.

Once he crossed over into Spring, he would be able to find sanctuary there.

The tower was tall and round, made from grey stone with an arching window. There were long, deep slashes in the stone all up the height of the tower, as if carved there by a giant beast. For a moment he simply stared, then he shook himself from his daze and ran closer, his hands moving around and around the walls of the tower, and yet finding no entrance. Round and round he went, each time hoping desperately that a magical entrance might make itself visible to him.

No such luck. His heart plummeted to his stomach, and he cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting up at the tower window.

“HELLO?! HELP! PLEASE HELP ME!”

With a soft thwump! a rope tumbled out of the window and landed by his side. It was as thick as his arm and tied in a loop, so that he could sit himself within and be pulled up comfortably.

He sank to the grass, panting. There was no use trying to climb the tower. His entire body sang with pain, and his eyes were slowly fluttering shut. He was going to die here.

“Thank-you,” he croaked, turning his face upwards towards the fading sun. “Thank- you.”

He woke with a start, and he winced at the sudden movement. Lucien looked down at himself, and saw a white bandage wrapped around his chest. A clear, crisp scent came from the bandages, and he guessed that whoever had treated his burns had used essence of Calma Lily. He blinked again, finally coming to as he reached his arms up in a stretch, only to find that he couldn’t.

He was bound to a plush armchair, and the rope hat held fast to him was not rope at all, but a thick braid of golden hair.

“Mother above.” He whispered.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” A voice came from nowhere, followed by a shuffling noise. Then Lucien yelped as a figure leapt down from the ceiling beams, landing just before him with a light thud.

His vivid green eyes lighted on Lucien, lips turning up into a smile.

“I'm Tamlin. And you?”

“Uh… My name is Lucien…”

“What the fuck is happening?” he asked aloud, more to himself than anything.

Lucien murmured his thanks, “How long have I been asleep?”

“Four days and four nights. You had quite a fever.”

“Fuck. Did I… say anything while I was sleeping?”

“No.”

“Yes, well. About that.” Tamlin stepped closer to him, hands locked behind his back.

A flare of panic jolted down Lucien’s spine.

Tamlin started backwards with a swear, his green eyes widening with confusion.

“You’re fucking insane if you think I’m going back to the Autumn Court,” he seethed, “I’d rather die right here in this miserable tower.”

Lucien blinked, "A favour?" he repeated.

Tamlin nodded slowly, hands still raised between them.

"Yes, a favour. Just a favour, in return for the one I did for you."

He narrowed his eyes, still suspicious. “… What kind of favour?”

Tamlin licked his lips. “Perhaps I should start at the beginning, and tell you how I came to be here?”

He took in the other male’s hopeful expression, his body still tense.

But, if Tamlin had truly meant him harm, why would he bother to bring him up here? Why would he bother to heal him?

“Fine.” Lucien sighed tiredly.

"It's quite a long story."

Lucien snorted, waggling his bound hands. "I've got nowhere else to be." he said dryly.

Tamlin offered him a small smile, conjuring an armchair of his own.

“It started with a general from King Ennis’s army. Amarantha. She had been sent from Hybern on the King’s order as an assist for my father.

They became friends of a sort, and one day my father brought me along with him and my brothers to tour the war camps. That was the first time I’d met her, and she instantly took a liking to me.

It disgusted me. I wanted nothing to do with her.

I turned two hundred, and my father insisted on hosting a ball to commemorate the occasion. I protested, but he wouldn't hear it. I didn’t know why he was so insistent on the matter, but now…

She was invited, of course. Right there, in front of all the assembled guests, she asked for my hand. My father immediately agreed, but I rejected her.

I told her that she was a monster, a cruel being who killed for killings sake and who could never hope to understand the true bearings of a leader.

And so, humiliated and enraged, she cursed me.

Then she vanished.

Tamlin held his palm out over his heart, then breathed deeply. A glowing sphere of light slowly began to emerge from his chest.

“He couldn’t give her a cure, but he could give her a loophole.

For every beast desires love,

then let it be a cure.

To save the beast,

true love’s first kiss

must freely be bequeathed.

He closed his hand back over his chest, returning the precious loophole back to it's place.

“Since that day, I have been here. The beast is too uncontrollable. I was- I am a danger to my Court. So I chose to come here, to live in this tower until the curse could be broken.

Tamlin's eyes gleamed bright. “I had begun to lose hope, until you.”

Lucien’s brow furrowed. “… Me?”

He fought to keep his voice measured. “I do.”

“Then you can help me!” Tamlin's chair squeaked in protest as he scooted ever closer.

“My request to you is this. Come with me on my journey. Keep a flame lit through the night to keep the beast away until daylight, and help me to break my curse!”

Lucien’s head spun and he had to close his eyes for a moment. “How do you know this will work?”

“It has to,” Tamlin said determinedly, “I can’t accept any other possibility.”

“Please, I need your help.”

“Anything. Anything else, I will do it willingly. But I cannot do this. I’m sorry.”

Fear began to clench at his heart.

“Please-”

“That is not true!” Tamlin snapped back. “I saw a male in need of my care, and I acted. I pulled you to safety, and then I took care of your two hunters. Your brothers, I presume. You all have the same red hair. At least you’ll have two less to worry about from now on!”

Lucien’s brain stuttered, “You… what?”

Tamlin turned his head away stubbornly, his golden braid whipping over his shoulder.

Palms of flame, burning flesh, his own screaming, Jesminda… pain lighting across his body, running, running, tearing his skin on blackened thorns… laughter echoing behind him…

“They’re dead?”

A huffy sigh.

“They breached the thorn wall soon after you made it up here. When I went down there, I smelt the ash on their hands. The same from the burns on your chest. I took care of them.”

“I-”, he swallowed thickly. “Thank-you.”

Tamlin only nodded once.

“…Where do you want to go?”

Tamlin's head snapped up comedically fast.

“You’ll accompany me?”

“First, tell me where we’re headed.”

“The Night Court.”

“Who in the Night Court do you seek?”

“Rhysand, son of the High Lord of Night.”

“Mother and Cauldron bless me thrice, the blows just keep coming.” Lucien groaned.

Lucien sighed again. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"... So..."

"I accept, and I will accompany you on this journey.”

The smile he received in answer could have lit up a thousand skies.

“You are my saviour,” Tamlin breathed.

“Yes, yes. Now could you please let me out of your hair?”

#tamlin week 2024 #pro tamlin #tamlin #pro lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra #tamcien

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umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken · 9 days

Text

Being a female viewer and hating Criston Cole is deranged.

I have to get this off my chest. The blind hatred that Criston is receiving from women is insane and I’m going to explain why.

For context, I am talking about Show Criston, not Book Criston. Comparing two standalone versions of a story is silly.

I cannot wrap my head around the fact that so many women, who are the primary victims of utilitarian relationships, would ever come together and shit on Criston for enduring such a situation.

I’m sorry, but how many of you have been used by men? How many of you have been reduced to one night stands, situationships and placeholder wives? How many of you have been deemed “not good enough” to be an exclusive partner? I log into tiktok and I see NOTHING but stories of broken women who are just used for sex, money, care and whatnot by men, and then they are tossed away like worthless trash while said men continue their pursuit of the ideal woman. Being used by men just for sex and being denied the status of girlfriend, let alone wife, is probably one of the worst plagues women are experiencing in the western world because the MOMENT we were emancipated, men understood that they don’t owe us shit anymore and instead of treating us with respect, they decided to grab whatever they can and give nothing back. Do not tell me that there are women out there that are fine with this arrangement because the multiple “GWM while I tell you about the guy that was with me for 12 years and then married someone else” tell a different story, one of multiple women’s dignities being trampled by hungry men. My heart breaks for every woman (EVERY woman, cis, trans, EVERY woman) who has been called by a man she loves just for sex, for every woman whose man never wanted to be seen in public with her, for every woman who had to hear that her man is not ready for a relationship only to witness him getting engaged to another woman 2 weeks after. I hope you overcome this and become stronger and I am glad that we are finally supporting one another.

How can we then, the women who are helping other female victims rise up and speak out against this kind of abuse, push Criston down and tell him to suck it up and accept being Rhaenyra’s plaything? Have we no mercy? Are we so hungry for revenge against men that we’d want them to endure the same humiliation that we did, as if one fictional man’s suffering would bring us justice? Are we so jealous that Criston didn’t sit down and just take it like the rest of us, but instead spoke up and removed himself from that situation? Or are we so gullible that we accept what the screenwriters shove down our throats and unknowingly support the patriarchic view that if you’re being used by someone you should just accept it?

I can hear some of you arguing that “Oh, this is different because Rhaenyra is royalty!” as if being used and tossed by a powerful person somehow makes the situation any better? Would it be okay if a rich person wanted to constantly use you for sex while he keeps looking for a better woman to be by his side, just because he values his wealth and status more? Rhaenyra straight up sneered at the idea of a simple life with him. She straight up told him that HE is not worth as much as her crown. OUCH. Even though I can’t even begin to imagine the pain of being told you are not enough by your loved one, it was Rhaenyra’s right to choose what her priorities are, but WHY would he have to accept being her sidepiece? “These were different times”: does this make it any less devastating for the victim? And he was a victim because Rhaenyra still used Criston and misled him by constantly complaining about how she HATES her duties for YEARS and then luring him to break his oath. Do you think he would have still slept with her if he was aware that moments ago, Rhaenyra was begging on her knees to be fucked by Daemon and only turned to Criston because her first option was no longer available? Like, the man was contemplating having sex with her and resisted her for a good fucking while, so imagine how quickly he would have turned around and walked out that door if he had that information beforehand. You know why? Because he loved her. He loved her to the point that he broke his oath for her, the oath of a station he FOUGHT FOR IN A WAR. He shed blood and sweat and risked his life for the mere opportunity to gain that position. This was ALL he had, he came from NOTHING and he was still willing to toss it all away for Rhaenyra not once, but twice. It wasn’t just sex he wanted because we never see him have sex again after that. He became vulnerable and gave up everything that he was to be with Rhaenyra. He was willing to abandon his whole identity for her sake. Is this not what the ideal partner is? Ready to abandon everything for your shake? Everything he fought for, tooth and nail? Was he unreasonable in thinking that Rhaenyra was willing to do the same for him? Was he crazy to think that because he was ready to put everything he FOUGHT for aside for her shake, Rhaenyra would also put aside a duty she was handed and actively seem to hate for him too? Fuck no! After hearing her constant talk about how she hates her father, her duties, her refusal to wed other men, how she is trapped as a princess, how people have no idea how much it SUCKS being her, why would he not assume that she’d be willing to give it all up for him, as he’d do for her We never see Rhaenyra even TRY to be a ruler, just complain about it. Of course it would be a fucking shock to him hearing her say “Lol dude, I actually do kinda want this”.

Criston was actually the only person in the series that wanted Rhaenyra for her, not her money or crown. I’m not saying she had to follow him, it was her right to refuse him, but his willingness to lead a simple life with just her has got to mean something. And don’t give me that “he only wanted to redeem his honour by marrying her” crap, because first of all Criston nutted up and admitted everything to Alicent and was ready to face death without EVER blaming Rhaenyra for anything, and second of all, oh no, how dare a human being have ethical values and desire to live with dignity in society’s broad light rather than move in the shadows as the princess’s secret boytoy! Bad, bad Criston for feeling you have to atone for your sins. Maybe we as people have become so corrupt that we envy those who wish to walk a virtuous path in life. Or maybe y’all have become so fond of the unhinged unapologetic character trope because it feels “original” (even if it’s ridiculously overused nowadays) that you’ve actually forgotten what characters with good morals are. Like, picking your fave war criminal and rolling with them because you enjoy good drama, especially in a show that’s meant to provide entertainment, is one thing, but passionately stating that Criston had to submit to that humiliation is something else entirely.

Finally, let’s ditch the Criston being a misogynist bullshit because he had NO issue obeying Rhaenyra before their affair or Alicent. And he is ALWAYS true to himself and his values, because even after everything he endured, he did not use Alicent’s anger as an excuse to take revenge on Rhaenyra and harm her children. Criston never betrayed her, Rhaenyra used him and he walked away and he went towards the only person who seemed to spare him some sympathy and understand him and not condemn him for his crimes even if he hated himself, which is typical victim mentality. And don’t get me started on the Joffrey incident because y’all tore Cole to SHREDS for it. Joffrey had it fucking coming. You don’t go up to people’s faces, especially ones you don’t know, threaten them by telling them you know their secret, a secret that SHAMES them and burdens them to the point they’re ready to commit suicide, and all but directly call them a whore. What the fuck did he think was going to happen? They’d shake hands? Piss off. Let this be a lesson to anyone that doesn’t know how to keep their mouths shut and their noses out of other people’s business. Also, mocking his suicide attempt makes my stomach turn. Just take a moment to consider all the young women who just like him, reluctantly surrendered their virginities to men only to find out they were nothing but sex dolls in their eyes, all these girls whose trust led to their secret being spread and them getting ridiculed and slut shamed for it: how many girls have taken their own lives because they found living with such a burden unbearable?

For the love of everything you hold sacred, please wake up sisters. The narrative that you can be used by someone powerful and you have to accept it because that’s the way things are is a man’s construct. Do not let them fool you.

#anti rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #criston cole #pro criston cole #team green #📣📣📣#doing the lords work with this post

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umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken · 9 days

Text

Day 5: Shapeshifter & Masquerade

A marriage of Spring and Autumn

(super original title, I know 😎)

@tamlinweek

Her mother told her that a masquerade ball was to be held, in honour of the marriage between Spring and Autumn. Tamlin could have laughed at the irony. So it was to be a night of secrets and lies. How fitting.

She had never thought of her shapeshifting powers as a curse, as something she would ever come to hate. But now she was trapped in her own skin, forced to remain Still when it was in her veins, her very nature to move and shift and change.

And now the day had arrived at last, where she would meet her husband to be for the very first time.

She had been shaken awake by Lady Titania at the crack of dawn to begin preparations. Still too fuzzy from sleep to argue, Tamlin had allowed herself to be moved about like a doll for her maids to paint her face and style her hair just so. Her mother’s constant needling in the background had done nothing to help her already sour mood.

Then came her gown. Length upon length of pale green spider-silk, gathered at her waist in rippling folds with hundreds of delicate, pink roses stitched all across the gown. The bodice itself was sleeveless, held up at her shoulders with delicate, twisting thorns. A chest of jewelled flowers in every hue rested on the table; heirlooms from her grandmother who had lovingly planted and nurtured the delicate blooms herself. One by one, her mother pinned them into her hair until she wore a glittering crown, perfectly befitting a demure lady of Spring.

Lady Titania squeezed her shoulders, smiling happily, “There. You look beautiful, Tamlin. If only you could wear a smile along with your gown.”

She looked up from her clasped hands, meeting her mother’s gaze in the mirror before pasting on her most saccharine smile.

Her mother tsked at her, “Your father has gone to great lengths to arrange this marriage, it would do you some good to be happy about it. The Lordling Eris is of an age to you, I’d thought you’d be happy about that.”

Her mother’s dismissive tone stoked the fire burning low in her belly, and she whirled in her seat. “It’s not his age that I’m concerned about, mother! It is this!” her hands clenched into fists, “You want to sell me into a lie! Do you even care about what I want?! What I feel?! How could you let father do this to me?! How could you let this ha-”

Faster than she could blink, her mother slapped her soundly across the cheek, then took hold of her arm and squeezed hard, pulling her upwards til they were face to face.

“Selfish, ungrateful child! You stop this right now! This marriage will do great things for our Court, for our family. The Autumn Court is traditional, still stuck in the old ways. I will not have you jeopardise this, do you understand?” her mother shook her arm, “Do you understand?!”

All Tamlin could do was nod, her blood pounding between her ears, cheeks hot, eyes prickling.

Her mother sighed, her voice softening. “Perhaps in time, when the Lord Eris has grown to favour you more, when you have attended to him as a good, faithful wife should, you may be able to shift more freely. But for now, you must remain as you are, yes, petal?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Good. Now the mask.”

It was a thing of beauty. Gold filigree in twisting patterns of thorns, dotted with delicate roses pieced together with tiny ruby fragments. It fitted perfectly to her face.

In the mirror her mother smiled.

“Perfect.”

<><><><>

She forced her hands to lay flat on her lap as she watched the partygoers wander around the ballroom. From atop her seat on the curtained dais, Tamlin could see everything.

Her parents had truly outdone themselves. The ballroom was glowing with fae-light, garlands of flowers strewn from wall to wall. The room glittered with magic, and the air was sweet and heady with the smell of perfumed wine. She couldn’t remember a time where the room had been as full of life, so loud and magnetic. She must have sat there for hours, watching as the guests trickled in.

Finally, with a great fanfare, the Autumn delegation arrived. The High Lord Beron, his wife the Lady Freya, and their eldest son, her future husband. Lord Eris.

Where Spring Court males tended to be more powerfully built, with strong legs and thicker chests, the males of the Autumn Court were slender and lean. It was almost comical how small Lord Beron looked standing next to her father, High Lord Oberon; particularly when his cruelty was so well known. Each of the Autumn Court family were dressed in deep red velvet, three dark figures in a room full of light. Tamlin's nails bit painfully into the palms of her hands.

Her parents greeted the Autumn Court with bows and curtsies, welcoming them to Rosehall. Then they were turning towards her, their tilted faces obscured by bronze masks.

It was time.

She rose from her seat and parted the thin, gauzy curtain, descending the dais to greet her future husband. She kept her gaze locked on the floor the entire time. Her one last act of defiance before her parents. Eris bowed as she reached him.

“Lady Tamlin.”

“Lord Eris.”

She raised her head from her curtsy and was momentarily stunned.

Vivid eyes of pure sunlight gazed at her through a mask of bronze oak leaves. His hair, red as a flame hung in soft waves to just below his chin, accentuating the sharp features that were so prominent within the Autumn family. His lips curled into a smile as he offered her his hand.

“Shall we?”

Letting her skirt fall to the ground, she laid her hand in his and he kissed her knuckles, his soft lips lingering on her skin. They made their way onto the dance floor and took their positions. Eris dropped his other hand to her waist, squeezing lightly. Grudgingly, she placed her hand on his shoulder and flexed her fingers. Cauldron boil, but his shoulders were broad. She could feel him staring at her in her periphery, and she forced her fingers to still against the luxurious fabric.

The orchestra began and then they were moving, spinning across the floor. One full circle, then a second. The party goers became a colourful smear against the golden walls of the ballroom.

Eris lowered his head to her ear.

“You look lovely tonight.”

She ignored him.

“Does the lady not approve of my choice in words? Shall I say… Resplendent? Decadent? Glorious?”

Tamlin sent him a look, “There’s no need for flattery, my lord. We are to be married within the week.”

“I don’t waste time with flattery.”

“Then you are jesting me, and I despise that all the more.” She snapped.

“I speak the truth.”

She scoffed. Irritating bastard.

He grasped her hand firmly as he spun her in a perfect arc, then pulled her back to his side.

Her skin tingled where his arm encircled her, and she imagined that his fingers were scorching holes through the silk of her dress, branding her with his fire. He met her hard stare with a look of quiet consideration.

They had come to a stop on the floor and all of a sudden she could feel each coil of muscle in her body, stretched taut like the strings of her fiddle. Begging for release.

He waited there, his arms wrapped around her. Behind them, the orchestra played on.

“What in the Seven Courts are you-”

“I mean it, Lady Tamlin,” his voice was warm in her ear, “I am many things, but I will never tell you a lie.”

She didn’t speak for a moment, focused on the feeling of his warm hand on her tingling fingers, then she finally tilted her head up to look him in the eyes.

“You really don’t give up, do you?”

He smiled, teeth gleaming. “I never learned how.”

He squeezed her hand, then they were once more moving across the floor. She kept her gaze locked on the gilded walls of the room, chasing down her skittering heart. Tamlin was determined not to meet Eris’s gaze for longer than was necessary. Besides, the weight of the flowers in her hair took a constant toll on her concentration as she strained to keep the damned things from flying off of her head at every spin.

“Copper for your thoughts?”

“What?”

“You were scowling most splendidly. I hope your anger isn’t aimed at me.”

“No,” she replied briskly, “What would I have to be angry about after all? It couldn’t be at the fact that I’ve heard the tales of your father’s cruelty, of your Court’s cruelty, and now you, his oldest son, wants my hand in marriage. Tell me, are you to be as cruel as your father is, or will you be a different beast completely? I am to be taken away from my home, away from everything I have ever known and forced to play your pretty little wife for the remainder of my days.” Her last words came out in a vicious hiss.

They whirled around to face each other. Her fingers held onto his arm with a deathly grip as he dipped her low. She glared up at Eris. He was not smiling now.

“Is that enough reason for you, my Lord?”

“I see.”

He fell silent then, and they continued their dance.

Turn and turn around the floor, and neither of them spoke a word.

Her blood pounded in her ears, and she felt as if the breath had been stolen from her lungs. It had felt wonderful to speak so freely. But in the time it took to make one more rotation around the floor, a chill began to seize her spine. Tamlin could almost hear her mother’s voice in her ear.

Stupid girl, allowing your temper to rule your tongue! If you feared his anger before, you have only stoked the flames higher with your thoughtless words!

Round and round her thoughts went, until she was almost completely ready to spout whatever apologies were necessary to avoid the possible torture in her future.

“Forgive me, Lady Tamlin. I had not realised how you might feel about this situation.”

“I’m… sorry?”

“You have every reason to have fears and reservations about this marriage. I am sure that if I were in your position, I would have some as well.”

Eris squeezed her hand, his voice lowering, “I can only offer you a promise.”

“A promise? What kind?”

“I promise you that we will enter this marriage as equals. You are to be mine, and I will be entirely yours. You will have nothing to fear from me, I swear, Tamlin. If you wish to return home to Spring someday, it will be granted.”

For a long while, she could only stare at him. He was not at all what she had been expecting. She had entered this ballroom hoping that her husband wouldn’t be a cruel brute with a penchant for torture and had come out more than surprised. Coming back to herself, she realised that she had been silent for quite some time, and Eris had dropped his gaze to the ballroom floor.

“You’re not who I thought you’d be,” she said at last.

He tilted his head. “And what were you expecting?”

“I was expecting a beast.”

His eyes twinkled and she couldn’t help but smile as well.

“Oh?”

“Yes. A great hairy beast, with a dripping mouth full of blood and ugly, vicious teeth.”

He tossed his head back in a chuckle, exposing the long, pale column of his throat. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you so.”

Her heart pounded wildly, “You are forgiven.”

The orchestra began the final strains of the dance.

“You’re not at all what I expected either, Tamlin.”

“Dare I find out?”

“I must admit, when my parents informed me of this proposal, I hadn’t expected much. ‘A daughter of Spring’, I thought. ‘How dull’. But you,”

She moved her hands to his shoulders as he moved to take her waist, and in a single motion he was lifting her high in a half circle.

Magic pulsed through his fingertips into her skin with each burning touch. His eyes were pure light, focussed solely on her. Tamlin's fingers tightened on his shoulders as he finally set her back down, his hands hesitant to leave her waist.

“You’re bright and wild, and angry and witty. You… You have bewitched me entirely.”

Her breaths quickened, “Eris.”

Behind them, the orchestra played the final note with a flourish.

His face broke out into a devilish smile as he leaned down to kiss her hand.

“Until the wedding, Tamlin.”

Then he was gone, fading away into the bustling crowd now stepping onto the dancefloor.

Her heat beat a furious rhythm in her chest, mind devoid of all thought save for the feeling of his lips on her skin.

#tamlin week 2024 #pro tamlin #tamlin #pro eris vanserra #eris vanserra #tamris #tamlin x eris #pacing? never heard of her

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