Odysseus Tamlin X Poseidon Rhys? No? Come On...

Nesta Archeron.

Inspired by the art of @charliebowater

This is so cool!!! Thank you for making this! :)

I added the OC I made (a long time ago) of myself in ACOTAR. Tamlin is so done with the amount of energy I have for killing as an extrovert (I wish I had any energy in the real world, as an introvert.)

Now who to make Tamlin spend time with next... *cackles madly*

To encourage and celebrate fandom creativity this @tamlinweek i made a PICREW!

Here's to you, TamlinxOC enjoyers! Take a picture with Tamlin!

Some tips on how to use it under cut:

If a body part has a "move" icon, it means it can be moved around. Keep in mind to get the details just right!

Arrow buttons move the parts around, rotation arrows tilt them. Reset button returns it to the default setting.

When picking eyes and pupils make sure you pick the ones facing the same way.

When making a haircut you can either use a short top part, then add hair strands and/or long hair OR create the top part out of top hair and bangs.

If you wish to make a new character and want to reset all the parts, go here.

"Reset all" will reset everything to the default setting. Randomiser buttons will make cursed creations. Have fun!

What SHOULD have happened during the High Lord meeting

Beron moved to the Lady of Autumn's seat, resting a hand on her shoulder. The same arm that now bore a bright scar. She did not so much as flinch, but her hand tightened around Eris's wrist.

"You have injured my wife, viciously attacked my heir, and made an attempt on my life. These are acts of war, little girl. Perhaps your mate should have done better filling you with knowledge of politics and common sense rather than vile seed!"

"Beron!"

"I have spoken my piece!" he snarled in answer to Thesan's snap. Beron turned back to the Night Court and pointed his finger.

"Too long have we endured the arrogance of this insolent half-breed. Well. No longer." Beron spat out the words, "This meeting was the last straw in a bale of thousands. As High Lord of Autumn, I declare war on Night."

The ripple was instantaneous.

"Father, are you certain of this?" Eris murmured.

But Beron did not answer his son. His gaze was fixed on Rhys's frozen face. The male recovered quickly, a sneer forming on his lips.

"What matter is it of mine whether you wage war on us or not? We both know your forces are nothing in comparison to Night's."

Beron's face turned thunderous, and he opened his mouth to reply when a voice cut through, sharp and clear.

"Spring will stand with you, Lord Beron."

Rhys barked out a laugh, relaxing "Oh? With what army?"

Tamlin merely smiled, unsheathing those deadly claws and letting them gleam in the steady candle light.

"I don't need one. I killed one High Lord of Night before. I can do it again."

Drawing Geto from JJK (WIP)

reference photo is n0cturnalprince on Instagram :)) (they're a really cool cosplayer ^^)

Okay I have a fic brewing for today's @tamlinweek prompt biting/chest, but I don't actually know if it'll be ready to post to AO3 by the end of the day, so I figure I'd give a little snippet now!

This fic is Rhysand/Tamlin, past friends to enemies, present strangers to lovers. There's technically an age gap but Rhys worries about it way more than he actually needs to.

I promise my real post for it will be prettier than this haha. But anyways, the clip is below the cut if you'd like to see what's in store!

It’s maybe a little weird. Or a lot. Rhys can't really tell.

It's definitely a little weird that he's at a high school reunion for a class that he was never a student in, but Mor had asked until he relented, and he loves his cousin enough not to make a big deal about it. Plus, it's basically a form of community engagement. Good PR.

And it’s not like he wasn't curious.

(But Rhys supposes he knows what curiosity does to the cat.)

It probably is weird. He should just let it go. Pretend he didn’t even see that flash of pale hair, that once-familiar smile, the eyes that somehow still look green from afar in the dim throwback-to-homecoming lighting. Rhys knows that he’s become a little dry, distracted, and that people will start noticing, but he just can’t stop searching.

Looking for a trace of the boy he knew ten years ago in the man he sees now.

Tamlin looks practically unreal. His hair has gone from sandy, dirty blonde to vibrant, spun gold, practically platinum in some places. It cascades down past his shoulders, wavy and thick, holding none of the country club pretentiousness that his preppy little swoop had back in high school. His shy grin is the same, but the face it decorates is practically foreign. Angular and distinct, high-definition in human form.

When Rhys first met Tamlin, he’d looked like he was growing like a puppy. Linebacker shoulders that he didn’t seem to know how to grow into, a jawline hidden in lingering baby fat that he hadn’t yet grown out of. He’d always moved with a clear cautiousness, like he didn’t know what to do with his size, a kid piloting a teenage body. With the soft roundness of his face and the unsure gait he walked with, he'd almost appeared small despite his height.

Now, it seems like there’s not a part of him that hadn’t stopped growing since Rhys last saw him.

He fills out his sage green dress shirt like it was tailored to display his form in the most accurate way possible without the stitches ripping. He’s thicker than most average men, his chest curved, arms thick, and hell, even his legs show their definition through his light tan pants. He’s very clearly jacked.

It’s understated enough, though, that he doesn’t look crazy or roided out. Just very carefully crafted, like somewhere along the way, he’d turned himself to stone just to reshape his body into the cut he wanted.

His clean-shaven jaw is now entirely visible and perfectly sharp, not too severe. His cheeks have hollowed a bit as well, but not in a way that suggests cosmetic help. Broad shoulders now have the muscle to make up for it, his large hands finally matching the rest of his body, his strapping chest smoothly leading down to a slim waist, creating a figure that simply dominates among regular layfolk.

And he’s tall. Even taller than he’d been when Rhys graduated, towering over his company, easily clearing six feet.

He’s a man now. Practically a whole different person.

But it still feels so weird. That spark of attraction racing along Rhys’ veins, teasing the inside of his mouth, under his tongue.

If they were strangers, he wouldn’t think twice about it. It’s not that big of a difference.

But the fact is, they’re not strangers. They knew each other, once. When Rhys was already awaiting his acceptance letter from Brown, and Tamlin was fourteen.

quick reminder that my own lesbian-nonbinary-ass genuinely supports the hell outta each and every one of you. regardless if i know you or not, im happy to be living in this shithole of a life in the same world with you.

and im proud of you, i know in my heart just how beautiful, amazing, talented, smart, and worthy you are and i hope you can see that too🏳️‍🌈🌈

Could you maybe reblog this post if you think respecting trans peoples' names and identities is a basic right and not a political opinion?

No pressure. Just seeking some validation of my sentiment. Due to some. people

day 2: Dark Spring

@tamlinweek

What once was yours

_______________________________________________

Feyre bargains for Rhysand's life.

But all magic comes at a price, some more costly than others.

_______________________________________________

“...Please. I will- I will give you anything.”

Tamlin raised his head at that, finally looking up from the pale corpse of Rhysand.

“Anything?”

“You’d best be careful.” Mor warned, stepping forward.

“Quiet.” He snarled, the single word cracking in the air like a whip. 

Mor's lip curled, but then she dropped her eyes to the golden threads of magic twining between his fingers. 

Pulsing. Rumbling. 

Her fingers tightened around her blade, but not another word left her lips.

“Just bring him back.” Feyre begged, twisting her hands into Rhysand’s clothes. 

“Please, just bring him back.”

Tamlin knelt beside the lifeless body of her mate. “Are you certain what you ask of me?”

Feyre stared up at him with wild, unseeing eyes.  “I am. I will give you anything.”

“Do you swear it?”

“I do,” she whispered. Feyre looked up into Tamlin's face.

"I do."

His lips curled into a smile, and it was almost tender.

“I want the Night Court.”

“No!’’ 

“Feyre, don’t!” 

Mor made to step between them yet again, but Feyre stopped her with a tattooed arm, blocking her path.

“Yes. I accept.”

Cries of dismay wrenched themselves from the throats of the Inner Circle, utterly hopeless as Feyre reached out her other hand; unblemished with nightly ink, clasping Tamlin's hand tightly in hers.

“It is done,” he murmured.

A shroud of smoke ensconced Rhysand’s body, lifting him into the air. Feyre cried out, stumbling back as the cloud swirled around him. A tendril of silver began to wind its way out of the cloud, twinkling as if it had been spun from the stars themselves. It reached towards Tamlin like a vine. He took it into his hand tenderly and it lay there, seeping into his skin until he glowed like a star.

And then there was utter stillness.

From the farthest corners of Prythian to the now crumpled wall, the wind rumbled with a single name…

Tamlin Silverthorne, the Stone-hearted, Killer of the Never-Fading-Flower, Protector of the Emerald lands,

High Lord of Spring and Night.

I'm choosing seat six- I'm sorry, I get to sit next to a dog AND Eris? Like, we all know who'd be the better conversation partner, but having Eris to look at is a nice added bonus ;) Additionally, with Elain and Nesta behind me to listen to (I'm absolutely certain Elain is an honorary member of the "reads smutty books" club with Nesta, Gwyn, Elain and Eris) and the unnamed Vanserra bro in front to... I actually don't know about him, I'd probably just keep on hitting his chair with my feet until he told me all Eris' secrets. Sounds like a fun flight! 💅💖✨️

ACOTAR Airplane Seat Game Round 1 of 4

How to play: all you need to do is tell us where you'd sit on the flight by voting in the poll below. Bonus points if you tell us why in comments/reblogs/tags.

And...don't worry these get progressively worse 😈🔥

A headcanon you will never take away from me is that Cassian’s choice of footwear is most definitely cheap ass flip flops he buys a new pair every week bc he wears them out but no one can get him to put his dawgs away