s1rsh4rks

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thinking about how much cooler Rhysand’s magic could be if SJM didn’t go with shadow magic. Like imagine if his powers were actually night related. He could be harnessing the power of the moon and stars, he could make people fall asleep, or even go into people's dreams (which I think would play well into the daemati powers he has).

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I think it's rather interesting that Rhysand's position as a high lords son and being the MoST PoWErfUL HigH LOrd EvER paired with the abuse of being told he and his friends weren't worthy did interesting numbers on his self worth

because now you have someone who both is a powerhouse of power and someone who has poor self image issues. This results in him having to prove that no!! he IS!!! the specialist boy ever and all this power proves he is

You see him develop narcissistic traits as he gets older and this is something that can happen as a coping mechanism from being told your worthless your whole life (his father) paired with his mom treating him like the specialist boy ever

He inherits the keys to the kingdom (the night court) which 2/3rds of the people hate his guts but he spends most of his life in his super secret utopia of a city where you have people praising him for being a high lord

the 'backwards' and 'savage' nature of the Illyrians and the Hewn City prove to Rhysand that what he is doing is the Right Thing and that he and his friends are the super specialist Illyrians because they don't believe in mutilating their women

Rhysand is surrounded by 'yes men' and those who do not actively question him, his rule or his beliefs and that further solidifies that Yes, Rhysand IS the super specialist boy ever who is ruling in the best way ever even though you see the IC chaffing under his rule. But they don't say anything to him

Even Rhysands own abuse by Amarantha was brought on as a result of Rhysand being a super special boy. He was gorgeous and perfect and thanks to the mask he inherited, he was perfect to be her second in command. Rhysand was able to regain some power by sacrificing his body and in turn it alienated him from every other high lord also trapped UtM with him

Everything he does is 'worth it'. It does not matter that what he is doing is harming those closest to him. he doubles down and cries about how hard his life is and that he just had to be the bad guy because it was 'the right thing to do' and then the people around him just... bow down and let him get away with his behavior

the 'yes men', the hewn city and illyrians hating him, the praises from Velaris, being the super specialist most powerful high lord, it all feeds into these narcisstic traits that have been built up over the years to keep him from ever feeling like he actually has anything to answer for, that he, perhaps, isnt as valuable or worthy of anything.

He has wrapped up his ego in thorns and his mask that he inherited and he is able to keep that mask and those thorns securely in place because he is in a position where there is no one to push him and actually make him consider the fact that maybe, just maybe, he is the bad guy

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got an acotar oc? send them my way and I’ll draw them

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Rhysand is so… full of yearning? When it comes to Tamlin. The man couldn’t be more obvious. He so wants to be friends with Tamlin again that it’s driving me crazy. Always with the comments on how Tamlin used to be, used to look, parts of Tamlin that Rhys had grown so accustomed to, making Tamlin call him “Rhys” and Rhysand always referring to him as “old friend”. When he finds Tamlin in his haggard and depressed state, he is constantly trying to rile him up, because any emotion is better than no emotion. And when he leaves he feels hollow. Rhys says he wants him dead, yet he makes note of the lack of wards and shields, and on his second visit, dreads that he might find Tamlin dead because he can’t feel Tamlin’s presence. His thoughts feel contradictory, especially his actions. I mean cooking him the steak? Come on dude. Every time Rhys says something about “Tamlin deserves this, I don’t feel pity or sympathy for him” I keep finding it hard to believe. Because even if he doesn’t feel that way, he still cares. To me his thoughts sound like Rhys trying to convince himself that they can’t be friends again, even if he desperately wants to. He most definitely misses the man he once knew and he does not like seeing Tamlin in the state he is in now.

And, of course, we can’t forget the oh so insane moment where he said his mate was not enough.

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When Elain is drawn softly with chubby cheeks and a tummy an angel gains it's wings

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tamsand hanahaki au would go crazy actually…

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My acotar oc! She is from the summer court and is a very bubbly and upbeat fae! I don’t have a name for her yet so feel free to suggest one.

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I made Tamlin in DTI!

He was kinda hard to make lol, DTI doesn't have a lot of good male clothing options

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My analysis of Tamsand (Tamlin X Rhysand)

This is from someone who doesn't particularly ship them both together.

When they met both of their parents were in control of their respective court. They both hated/disliked their fathers who were the current HL for different reasons. Tamlin's father was cruel or crueler than Beron, enslaved humans and allied with the king of hybern who hated humans. During his rule humans suffered alongside his subjects who weren't nobles who supported him. Rhysand's father was similar but not as cruel, he continued the mistreatment of hewn city and Illyrians calling it a mask.

Both rhysand and Tamlin had similar backstories, both came from horrible high lord fathers whos mother supported them blindly. The main difference, rhysand was raised and expected to become HL, he was thought all the politics, trained by his father in magic and got Illyrian training thanks to his mother. Rhysand didn't have freedom, he was made to connect with hewn city, illyrians and velaris with his supporters. Tamlin was the opposite, the last child and the runt. Tamlin was ignored and if it weren't for his flourishing powers he'd be ignored by his brothers as well. Instead he made an effort to hide himself and join a warband allowing to connect to people who were different, allowing him to see his father's cruelty and connect with both high and lesser Fae.

Both were similar but rhysand didn't change much from his father while Tamlin was the opposite of his. One became a product of his surrounding the other became his father's worst nightmare.

We know rhysand seek Tamlin out, because they were similar but also because of connection. They were close enough for Rhysand to give Tamlin Illyrian daggers and teach him Illyrian techniques, for Tamlin to call him Rhys something that only the batboys call him. I however think there's another reason for this, why a relationship between them could bloom.

The night court was already known as the court of torture, abuse and evil. Rhys was from there, people don't trust them at best people tolerated him to gain some political upper hand or advantage. He wasn't a person to those people but a pawn, then came Tamlin who came from the court that accepted slavery and enforced cruelty. Tamlin and Rhys were likely distrusted by the other courts but found solace in each other.

For once rhysand found someone who wasn't from the night court who truly understood him and Tamlin the same. Rhysand didn't expect anything from Tamlin and Tamlin the same. They likely spoke about the future of their court, how'd they bring change and just enjoyed each other's company. I can imagine Rhys pushing Tamlin to act more rude and stop caring about others so much while Tamlin tries to get Rhys to befriend and be more friendly to try to understand people and not just assume.

Then the worst happened, the murder of their families which rhysand blames Tamlin for but still believes that Tamlin didn't do it purposely or was forced to do it. Rhys hates Tamlin for many things yet cannot stay away from him. Tamlin seems more content to be away from his former friend, something that Rhys hates considering he made Tamlin call him by his nickname. No matter how much he tries, some part of him yearns for that. True accepting love he will never see from others, lose his powers and the bat boys will scatter, Amren and morigan would have to find elsewhere to stay, feyre? She'd follow where it's safest for her family, he'd should be thankful the magic chose him or his little ic would perish.

On the other hand, Tamlin would be the only one to open his arms and court for him, he'd open it for anyone really. He'd accept them, try to make them have a happy life at the cost of himself. He'd give them everything he could give to make people happy and maybe that's why Rhys yearns for Tamlin so much. Tamlin lost a friend that day, Rhys lost someone who saw all his thorns and still chose to care for him.

In any different outcome, their love or friendship couldn't have work either. No matter what fate would tear them apart. Tamlin wouldn't stand for the horrible way hewn city and Illyrians functions and Rhys would not allow Tamlin to burn himself to keep others warm. A love story of friends or lovers that would always end in tragedy.

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Do you have the Rhysand visits Tamlin in acosf chapter's link?

Hello!! I have the pdf copy on my phone actually! Here ya go

Chapter 11, visit 1 😡

Chapter 23, visit 2 🤨...🏳️‍🌈??

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what a loser

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Thinking…

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Colored this on a whim

maybe bc I’m thinking about them… ;)

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woah crazy ha ha anyways

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Art blocked 😔

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So I don't usually write fics, but I wanted to try my hand at writing one for a while now. I wrote this with this idea in mind and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out! I'm a little nervous to post this, (it's kind of like letting people peek inside my sketchbook) but I wanted to share, so here you go!

He should be here by now.

Is what Feyre thinks as she sits in bed, black silky sheets covering the lower half of her body. She’s tried to gauge through the bond as to where Rhys might be, or even what he’s feeling for that matter. The usual frustrations from a busy night of paperwork aren’t present, rather a subdued calm ebbs throughout Feyre’s body. It’s… odd, not being able to know exactly what her mate is doing at this moment. He’s usually a very talkative sort of person, always using the bond to tell her how he’s doing and how the day is going; when they’re not side by side, that is.

Not wanting to sleep alone, Feyre rises from her bed to go find her mate, grabbing her robe in the process. Unfortunately, no one is up at the moment besides the staff. Even then they don’t provide the answers she’s hoping for, a whole bunch of “My apologies, my Lady, I do not know.” 

When all seems lost, she is then approached by a man who looks to be made of stone. His face has gargoyle-esque features and he wears the clothes of a gardener. A string of poppies is tied around his neck. It appears black in the night, much to Feyre’s appreciation. The man calls to her,

“I heard her Lady is looking for the High Lord, yes?”

Feyre nods,”Indeed I am. Do you know where he might be?”

The stone man smiles,”As a matter of fact, I do. Please, follow me.”

He leads her down a long corridor to a set of large, stained glass double doors.

“You will find the High Lord sitting outside in the garden. Last I saw he was sitting by the roses.”

Feyre’s brow furrows slightly at the mention,”Thank you for your help.”

“Of course, my Lady.”

With that he takes a quick bow before heading back the way they came. Now alone, Feyre takes a breath, steeling herself, and pushes open the doors in front of her.

What lies beyond is a gallery of different flowers and foliage. Large weeping willows can be seen around the garden, as well as tall imposing spruce trees sprinkled here and there. Feyre steps out onto the circular stone path ahead, glancing around in an attempt to spot her mate. She can see fireflies blinking through the air. Until, oddly, it seems as if they begin to form a line, pointing her in the direction she needs to go.

Slowly, she begins to follow them, the cool stone beneath her feet. As she follows she begins to hear something. She pauses, straining to hear. It sounds like… singing? It's low and quiet, but ultimately inaudible. With that, Feyre decides to get low and sneak closer, hoping to hear more.

Getting closer, she peers around one of the hedges lining the pathway. It's then she spots the roses. Quickly she closes her eyes and takes a couple breaths before peeking her eyes open, quickly scanning for the source of the singing. She finds it, eventually, and makes her gasp slightly when she does. It’s Rhysand singing.

Sitting on a stone bench, surrounded by rose bushes, he hums a small but lively tune. He then begins to mumble out a few lyrics.

“Her golden hair matches the curtains,

And now I'm all but certain,

She’s au naturel~”

Well that was… slightly crude. However, the way Rhys sings it makes it seem… fond? Like he’s recalling a memory associated with that particular tune. A twinge of jealousy forms in Feyre’s gut, not to mention the dirty rhyme makes her feel oddly reminiscent of a certain someone.

But it's weird. Rhysand doesn’t sing, and he certainly isn’t all that musically inclined. Not only that, but it makes Feyre feel like Rhys isn’t supposed to be singing it alone, like it’s supposed to be accompanied with an instrument or more vocals. 

Feyre doesn’t like it. Rhys sounds so alone in this moment, even his eyes look distant. A spark of something long gone lingering there, a melancholic smile playing ever so lightly on his lips.

Feyre follows his eyes, as he looks down; however, that’s when she notices the rose twirling ever so softly in Rhys’s hand. She stands immediately at that, making her presence known. 

At the sound, Rhysand stops singing and looks up from his spot.

“Feyre,” His eyes widened, looking like he’d been caught.

“I thought you were sleeping.”

Feyre ignores that before saying,”I didn’t know you could sing.”

Rhysand deflates a little at that, looking back out into the garden. He hunches slightly.

“I used to, but not anymore. Was never much of a singer, anyway.”

He looks at the rose before lightly tossing it to the ground. He turns his gaze back to Feyre, standing up from the bench as he does so.

“Did I keep you waiting? I’m sorry, my love.”

He walks over to her, intertwining his hand with hers.

“Let’s head to bed, shall we?”

Feyre nods and says nothing. She still isn’t able to feel much from him. The calm is still present, but now with something else slipping through. A sort of tiredness was beginning to peek through. Not from regular exhaustion, but rather from something emotional and heavy. A tiredness that you feel in your bones, in your soul. It weighs heavy on the heart, and no doubt heavier on the mind.

Feyre wonders just what exactly caused him to act like this tonight. To hide out into the garden and sing odd, crass tunes to himself. Not to mention that wistful look in his eyes as he did so.

Questions for the morning she supposes, as the two of them head off to bed.

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hc that Rhysand and Tamlin were a singer/musician duo back when they were friends and that Tamlin's dirty limericks were the lyrics for the songs.

(I also maybe wrote something with this idea in mind... if you maybe idk want to read it.. its not explicitly this idea, but it alludes to it..)