#tamlin's mom

[loonylooly]

watching Feysands talk about "I'll never forgive Tamlin for killing Rhys's mom and sister and hanging their wings!"... did we read the same books?? Tamlin's father and older brothers (personally I believe coerced but let's not get too opinionated) got Tamlin to tell them where they'd be, killed them, and THEY hung up the wings. And also everyone seems to conveniently forget that Rhys and his dad then massacred the entire spring court high family (is that what they're called?) INCLUDING Tamlin's completely innocent mother. If we're gonna pin Rhys's mother and sister's deaths on Tamlin (who did not do it), lets pin Tamlin's mother's death on Rhys and his dad

[kirschenseeds]

I won't lie and say I am not obsessed with the idea of Tamlin's mother.

For some reason, whenever I think of LoA, I would also think of the warm-hearted Lady of Spring who never learned to love in half—who had loved her husband and children with every single bone in her body even when they do not deserve it.

Only, I do not imagine her to be so broken and submissive like the LoA we witnessed in the books. I imagine that Tamlin got his fierceness from his mother, that the Lady of Spring is the perfect representation of Spring itself; with it's blooms and storms, sunshines and rains.

If she was a mated to Tamlin's father in the frist place, then there must be something about the Lady of Spring that made her equal to Prythian's warmongering High Lord, who was stated to exceed Beron in cruelty and sadism. There must be something in her that can neutralize that evil or compete with it directly.

Although, I understand why, I wish S/JM fleshed out Tamlin's backstory more because his family dynamic is relevant to his character—how his mother managed to help her son keep his heart, how his brothers tried to break him out of fear for the succession, how his father trampled over his mother's unconditional love and forced Tamlin himself to do cruel things...I would always mourn how she was reduced to a few sentences in the books.

I want to read about the Lady of Spring. I want read about a high dysfunctional family and it's tragic, tragic end.

[copypastus]

Feyre's selective hearing is the origin of my villain arc.

[dawneternal]

What I think the acotar characters smell like

Emerie - woodsmoke, herbal tea

Gwyn - honeysuckle, warm rain

Clotho - sweet mint, parchment

Tarquin - sea salt, lime, coconut

Eris - brown sugar, whiskey, smoke

Helion - vetiver, saffron, magnolia

Thesan - apricot, sage

Kallias - vanilla, cedar, snowdrop

Vivianne - violets, sugar plum, fresh snow

Tamlin - moss, lily of the valley, blackberry

Lucien - Leather, bergamot

Lady of Autumn - clementine, clove, amber

Beron - tobacco, cider, oak

Nuala and Cerridwen - moonflower, peach, sandalwood

Rhysand's mom - cardamom, moonflower

[achaotichuman]

Stupid little headcanon.

Yk imagine if Rhys's mom was actually a massive Tamsand shipper who just ADORED Tamlin, and because he could shapeshift would use him as a model for all her dresses. Would watch her son and Tamlin interact and also saw that Tamlin made big, wide eyes at the ring her mother had given her to pass onto her children, and knew he would like it as an engagement ring, and also knew he would be able to absolutely SLAUGHTER the weaver.

In conclusion, Rhys' mother made those dresses for Tamlin, and hid the ring for Tamlin.

And the reason Feyre fit the dresses so perfectly was because Rhys' mother actually made SO MANY DIFFERENT DRESSES because Tam could shapeshift any body type, and Rhys just picked out the ones in Feyre's size.

[goforth-ladymidnight]

A Mother Always Knows

For Tamlin Week 2024, Day 1: Heir of Spring

@tamlinweek

Summary: Rosalin, Lady of the Spring Court, gives birth to her third son and discovers that the High Mother has chosen him to be the future High Lord of the Spring Court.

Rating: Teen and up

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.8k

Read on AO3, or read on below:

“It’s a boy,” the faerie midwife announced proudly, before swaddling the squalling babe up and delivering him gently into the arms of his mother. “He has a fine set of lungs indeed,” she said over his wailing cries, and there was an amused twinkle in her eyes when she added, “Just like his father.” She chuckled fondly when the babe settled in. “The wee little beastie.”

Lady Rosalin gave her a grateful, though tired smile, then turned her attention to her newborn son. His face was still swollen and red from crying, but he had a tuft of hair that would turn out to be as soft and pale as thistledown. Time would tell if he inherited her blue eyes or his father’s green ones. He had a fine appetite already, though, and latched quickly to her breast. As he drank, she stroked his downy cheek and gently rocked him. While she had hoped for a girl, she could not help but fall in love with her newest little boy.

She had already given Magnus two sons, Angus and Fergus. Twins. Births among High Fae nobility were already a rarity, but to bear twins that lived past infancy was a miracle. Or a curse, though she would never dare say so.

For only one son could inherit the High Lord’s mantle, while the other would have to serve him in a lesser capacity. As would the third, one day. She did not look forward to that day, when she would lose her husband and be forced to witness one son challenge the other for his title. The magic of the Cauldron always chose the Heir, but few were willing to accept the High Mother’s will, let alone their own mother’s. If she had her way, she would choose the eldest and be done with it, but Fergus was only five minutes younger than his brother. It was hardly fair. And now they had another brother to contend with, no matter how young and innocent.

Such was the nature of the Spring Court, ruthless and fierce despite its inherent beauty.

Rosalin sighed and let her head fall back against the pillows as the servants helped the midwife take away the bloody linens and clean up the room, preparing for the High Lord’s arrival. No doubt he was already being informed of a successful delivery and was on his way to see her.

She turned her head to look at the bouquet of roses by her bedside. Her mate had had them delivered the day before, freshly cut from the garden he had planted for her. He knew that she would be missing them, and had included a single rose of every color in the bouquet. She smiled. For all his fierce, overprotective habits, he did love her.

Her vision was beginning to turn double as she drifted off, then she lifted her head with a start.

She wasn’t seeing double. There were now two roses of every color blossoming in the vase. Her mouth fell open as she realized that new roses were budding and blooming right before her eyes. She glanced around, but the midwife and the servants didn’t seem to notice. As quickly and as carefully as she could, she shifted the baby to the other breast. He let out a small growl at the interruption before latching on again in earnest.

The sound should have made her laugh—the wee little beastie—but it only made her want to weep.

Did the midwife know…? No. She couldn’t know. Not when Rosalin herself didn’t know. At least, not yet.

With her heart in her throat, she reached out and carefully turned the cut-crystal vase to see if her suspicions were correct.

Her heart sunk to the depths of her aching womb as she saw what she had not hoped to see.

One half of the bouquet had continued to bloom, while the other half had not.

Only the roses closest to her had grown despite being cut from the bushes outside.

No… Only the roses closest to the baby.

Her son.

The High Lord’s son.

The true Heir of Spring.

She made sure no one was looking, then, with a pained groan, shoved the vase off the table.

The crystal shattered, and the roses scattered.

And her innocent child began to cry.

The servants swarmed around her, fretting as she tried to soothe her squalling babe.

“It’s all right. It’s all right,” she told them as well as her newborn.

She hoped it would be. By keeping his secret, she could keep him a little longer.

If anyone found out that the High Mother had chosen the third born son as the Heir of Spring, he wouldn’t live to see another sunrise.

Such was the nature of the Spring Court.

After all, her husband had once had a brother, too.

As if the noise had summoned him, which it probably had, he appeared in the doorway like a thunderclap.

Rosalin cradled the baby against her breast and prayed that Magnus wouldn’t notice how the roses he had picked for her had doubled since their son was born. No such sign had appeared when the twins were born, even though there should have been, but the magic knew better. She knew better.

A mother always knows.

“What happened?” he demanded, stalking closer. Although he was normally quite handsome, even for a High Fae, with his long brown hair and sun-bronzed skin, he was terrifying now. His green eyes flashed, and his claws and teeth were already long and gleaming as he searched for the threat to his mate and newborn child.

The servants fell back, trembling as they swept into deep curtsies at his approach. Only Oona, the midwife, stood by Rosalin’s bedside, staring the High Lord down.

“A vase broke, Your Lordship,” she said firmly over the baby’s cries. “It was an accident. Nothing more.” When the High Lord stood there, growling skeptically at the mess on the floor, she added, “So, unless you plan on cutting the mischievous sprite responsible into ribbons, I suggest you put those claws away before you hurt someone.”

If Oona hadn’t been the one to deliver the High Lord himself, she might have felt his claws for her audacity, and borne the scars forever to prove it.

Magnus growled again, but he curled his claws into his fists to hide them. “Is that what happened?” he asked his wife roughly.

Rosalin quickly nodded, although her heart was still beating fiercely. “The vase slipped. That’s all.”

In the tense silence that followed, the baby hiccuped then snuffled against her shoulder. Rosalin gently patted his tiny back. It had been a long day for both of them.

Magnus’s fierce demeanor softened as he silently waved a hand over the shattered mess. The crystal vase reformed itself on the table, but the fallen roses remained scattered on the floor.

“Fresh roses from the garden,” he told the servants. When they bowed their heads and stood to carry out his command, he continued in a much gentler voice as he looked at his mate, “And make them red, for my Rose.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, and gave him a warm, glad smile. Their son’s secret was safe, at least for a little while.

Magnus stepped over the fallen roses to sit beside her on the bed. When he lifted his chin to kiss her, there was no sign of his claws. “And how are you, my Rose?” he asked, tenderly stroking the sweaty curls from her brow.

Tears filled her eyes at his gentleness. If only he could be this gentle with their sons. “As well as can be expected,” she said softly, then shifted the baby away from her shoulder so that Magnus could see him. “Look. Isn’t he beautiful?”

Magnus frowned, but he reached out a finger to stroke the baby’s rounded cheek. “He’s so small,” he murmured.

Oona spoke up before Rosalin could object. “He will grow, as you did, my Lord,” the midwife said, then gave the royal couple a short curtsy when Magnus turned his annoyed frown on her. “I will go and speak to the nursemaid, my Lady,” she said, ignoring the High Lord. “Then you and the child must get some rest.”

“Thank you, Oona,” Rosalin said before the High Lord could scold her. She was only doing her duty, after all.

When the servants had gone and left them alone, Magnus at last reached for the baby, and Rosalin reluctantly handed him over.

His secret is safe, she reminded herself as she watched her mate’s spring green eyes sweep over the face of his future heir.

“Another son,” Magnus said quietly, even though no one else was around to hear.

“Are you disappointed?” she asked, hoping that the answer would be No. Their child was less than an hour old, and didn’t need to grow up under the shadow of his father’s disapproval.

Magnus sighed. “Only for your sake,” he replied, giving her a tight smile. “I know how much you wanted a daughter. Someday, I shall give you one.”

Rosalin let out a weary chuckle, despite herself. “Someday,” she agreed, decorously sliding the collar of her shift back into place. “For now, I am content with you, and Angus, and Fergus, and now our newest little one.”

Magnus’s frown softened as he chuckled. “You are so easy to please, my love,” he said, then kissed her again. He might have lingered had the baby not let out a small gurgle and began to squirm in his father’s arms. Magnus pulled away and addressed his son at last. “I suppose you shall need a name, as well, little one,” he remarked.

“What about Tam?” Rosalin offered.

“Tam?” Magnus repeated, clearly surprised that she had come up with a name so quickly.

She smiled shyly. “After my father, Tamhas,” she reminded him. “You did say I might use his name one day.”

Magnus’s brow furrowed as he pursed his lips, remembering. “So I did,” he conceded, though gruffly. “Although I had hoped for another little Rosalin…” He sighed and handed the squirming baby back. “I suppose it can’t be helped now.”

Rosalin smiled sadly as she nestled the baby in the crook of her arm. “He will make you proud, Magnus. I promise.”

The High Lord of Spring looked into his young son’s face. “Tam,” he repeated softly. “Tam-lin.” He smiled at her surprised expression. “After his mother.”

Rosalin beamed. “Tamlin,” she repeated as the baby cooed and reached for her. “I like it.”

Tamlin’s tiny fingers barely wrapped around one of her own, but his grip was strong.

It was then that she knew that he would live, and live a long time.

He might even inherit the High Lord’s mantle without bloodshed.

Tamlin. Her Tamlin. Future High Lord and Heir of the Spring Court. He would be a fine ruler someday. She could feel it.

A mother always knows.

[rin-u-pos]

"So Lucien--"

"I don't want to hear another male's name on your lips right now," he growled and lowered his mouth to me.

I know we're supposed to think the spicy scenes between Feyre and Tamlin in ACOMAF are supposed to be unsexy and a bit of a turn off. But why is this line so hot?

[praetorqueenreyna]

the age gap between Tamlin and Nyx is the same as the gap between Feyre and Rhysand. Do with that what you will

[shadowqueenjude]

I FINALLY FUCKING FINISHED MY LADY OF SPRING FIC. EVERYONE PRAISE ME PLEASE!!!

[arson-09]

So im having to like do math and make stuff up for tamlin and his family since sim never gives us any details💀💀 I kinda picked the names off of vibes and light research. Then i had to scour the wiki, highlights, and notes from reading acotar-acowar to try and calculate ages.

If anyone has any suggestions or there’s something i missed go ahead inform me

[thecatsaesthetics]

People are like “Rhys was mean to Tamlin in ACOFAS” and I’m like idk he kind of deserved it.

[loonylooly]

ASOIAF 🤝 SJM

Generation of dead women that are important to the plot but have very little to no characterization and only serve to make the important characters sad over their deaths

[lzrsaugust]

A lil Tarquin sketch somehow escalated into this, uhhh made under an hour or two? With no video editing experience whatsoever -w-

akskksksksksk hope u enjoyed >v•

[copypastus]

"You never told me where you got it - where you got all my favourite dresses." Rhys arched a dark brow. "You never figured it out?" I shook my head. For a moment, he said nothing, his head dipping to study the dress. "My mother made them." (...) I gazed a reverant hand down my sleeve. "I- I had no idea." His eyes were star bright. "Long ago when I was still a boy, she made them - all your gowns. A trousseau for my future bride." His throat bobbed. "Every piece... Every piece I have ever given you to wear, she made them. For you"

Sometimes you just read something and can't help but think about the implications.

"aww how sweet his mom made all her favourite gowns how wholesome" nonono EVERY. PIECE. Ma'am please he's still a baby boy you're making a lot of assumptions about his future preferences.

[achaotichuman]

You know something I don't think I've heard anyone talking about.

Lady of Autumn/Tamlin/Helion threesome.

Imagine the Vanserra brothers walking through the halls of the Day palace, just chatting away about life and such (totally not gossiping over Lady Catherine's awful new hairstyle) then they pass their parent's room.

And Tamlin walks out completely shirtless.

They stare at him. He stares at them.

Tamlin very slowly begins to grin.

Lucien very slowly begins to die inside.

Eris- "Tamlin... what are you doing?"

Tamlin *mouth in a very wide grin that shows all his teeth*- "I've seen your mom naked."

Tamlin- *Turns to Lucien* "And I've seen your dad naked."

Now add a one-off summer night of Tamris who hooked up after getting drunk, and Tamcien getting together at some point. And all of a sudden Tamlin has all the cards in his hand.

Your mom? NO YOUR MOM ERIS!

Your dad? NO YOUR DAD LUCIEN!

Your brother? NO YOUR BROTHERS!

[goldenspringmornings]

I can't remember but is it ever stated anywhere how long rhys's dad was high lord? cause I was thinking about it for a fic and it occurred to me that sjm (or me) could do the absolute funniest thing