tamlinweek

[tamlinweek]

DRAW YOUR TAMLIN!

We all know how High Lord is blonde and beautiful, with green eyes and the ability to shapeshift into an antlered bear-wolf, but we all also have our little headcanons for his appearance. Does he always have his antlers? A tail? Is he more lithe with hidden strength or a big, bulky male? What about his outfit?

With @geniemillies help, we have these doodle templates and we want YOU to fill out with how you see Tamlin! You don't need to be an artist, we love silly drawings too!

[tamlinweek]

For the second prompt of Day 4 of @tamlinweek, please enjoy the small moments of Happily Ever After in Tamlin's life.

There is also a direct correlation between Tamlin's happiness and him being an idiot with his best friends. (Lookin' @ u Cassian)

Read Happy Endings on AO3 or below the cut:

The thing about ‘happily ever after’ is that is that it begs the question—after what? Happiness, in Tamlin’s opinion, is not an end. It is constantly in motion, and cyclical. It is intangible; no matter how hard he tries, he cannot capture it. Although, he has figured it out.

Happiness is not a state of mind.

Happiness lives within others.

CASSIAN

“You broke my nose, you fuck!”

Tamlin grins, a little too smug. The rules of their sparring is simple: don’t kill each other. Everything else is fair game, but Tamlin has never bothered with weapons. Not when he can shape himself into whatever he dreams of, and Nature has provided him with all the tools he needs to achieve his ends.

Today, he just wants to even the score.

“I owed you one. More than one, actually.”

Cassian makes an incoherent sound of frustration, setting the bone back in place without a complaint. “What else was I supposed to do with a big ass Spring Court invader in our war camps?”

“Rhysand invited me,” Tamlin deadpans. He’s pretty sure Cassian headbutt him all those years ago (and broke his nose) to prove a point. To think, everyone thinks Tamlin is the brute.

“Whatever, I’m not sorry.”

“Actually,” Morrigan chimes in. “May I propose literally any other way of greeting each other? Have you considered ‘hello’? I hear it’s all the rage with all other sane beings in this world.”

Both Tamlin and Cassian look at one another, they grin, two idiotic peas in a pod, before looking back at her and responding in perfect synchonicity: “Nah.”

Morrigan sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose with manicured nails. “There’s two of them. Two of them!”

As if to prove her point, Cassian turns and headbutts Tamlin in the face.

“Ack! My nose! Now we’re even.”

“No, that makes us uneven. Learn to count, you fuck!”

ELERI

The pitter-patter of light feet captures his attention. He’s curled on the lounge chair, reading one of Rhysand’s books. It’s a human fairytale that Eleri had mentioned, something about prince charmings and damsels in distress. Absent-mindedly, Tamlin twirls the ring on his finger made of Illyrian steel. It belonged to the Lady of the Night, passed down to him as Rhysand’s chosen-mate.

The pitter-patter continues, and Rhysand’s little sister pops up behind the back of the chair, regarding him with her big violet eyes. She flutters her lashes and smiles at him. “Hi, Tamlin.”

“Hello, Eleri.” He shuts the book carefully and raises a brow at her. She wants something, but with her, he can never guess what it is.

She rests her chin in her palms, admiring him. It’s strange to call her little. Yes, she is very small in stature, taking after her mother, but she is technically older than Tamlin. Most of his newfound family is.

“What?”

“I need your help.”

Without question, Tamlin gets up. “Lead the way.”

There isn’t anything Tamlin wouldn’t do for her. He’s saved her life once, and he would do it again without second thought. He doesn’t bother questioning her; the bounce in her step means that whatever she needs help with will be entertaining at the very least.

Together, they find Azriel in the House of Wind’s study, looking through the High Lord’s papers. The shadowsinger raises a brow in Tamlin’s direction, but Tamlin has only a shrug to offer him.

“Tamlin, please lift me,” Eleri demands once she plants herself before Azriel, extending her arms to give Tamlin room.

He tucks his hands beneath her armpits and raises her to eye-level to Azriel. What he witnesses is the single most hilarious berating he has ever heard in his life. Tamlin bites his lip to stifle his laughter. Apparently, she’s upset that Cassian caught wind of their date, and he keeps making kissy faces at her. Now, Rhysand is doing it too! She wasn’t the one who told them! What kind of spymaster can’t keep secrets?

Tamlin clears his throat.

“Um, we saw you both in the pastry shop. We were all having ice cream.”

The young Lady’s face burns a bright red. “I—! Mother above, Az, I’m so sorry!”

Tamlin’s laughter is a rumble as he hands the very short, very embarassed High Faerie to Azriel. “You’re very cute together. By the way, why did you need me for… this?” His voice trembles with amusement and guarded laughter. He doens’t want her to feel bad.

“The others are nosy, I trust you,” she says over her shoulder, feet dangling while Azriel holds her like a live bomb. To her crush, she yowls. “Hug me already!”

Oh, this family is ridiculous, but he loves them dearly. Most of all, Tamlin loves being a part of it.

MOTHER

“Mmmver, yr sqshng me.”

Tamlin wouldn’t trade it for the world. His face is smothered in her arms, a nice change of pace from her squishing his cheeks and crying at him.

“My baby! My little baby is getting married,” she says for the hundredth time.

He had made a point to tell her before the rest of his family. Before his father, he cannot be happy, and she cannot be free, so he tells her in the middle of her garden and her flowers that will live forever. This moment will live forever with them.

He had made a point to tell her months ago, but her mind never recovered from the loss of her second son. It’s alright, he thinks, if she can relive this happiness over and over again. He’s proud that he can be the one to make her smile like that again.

“I grew him a valley of eternal flowers, too, as my proposal.”

“Oh! You did! That’s so lovely, my sprout.”

This time he hugs her, nuzzling her hair and breathing in the scent of her yellow roses.

LUCIEN

Music is a language spoken through the heart, and the body. It speaks only of truths—harsh ones, sweet ones and the ones that they try to keep secret.

Music from Andras is a massacre. His voice has not improved over the years, sounding more and more like an offended cat every day. Tamlin tries to strum louder, or provide a healing rhythm for their ears while Lucien stokes the fire. Its crackling soothes, a baseline for whenever the singing comes to a lull.

“Why don’t you ever sing, Luce? Do you play an instrument?”

“Has anyone lived to tell the tale of a siren’s song?”

Andras looks unimpressed. “You’re telling me your singing is that good?”

Tamlin snorts. “Idiot.”

The clearing by the forest holds memories of pain and desperation, of many attempts to lure Tamlin out of his anger. Together, they have reclaimed this space. Here is a place where happiness lives.

ANDRAS

“It’s happening!”

The door to Tamlin’s map room slams against the wall as its virtually punched open. Lucien startles beside him, far too deep in his strategizing, not having hear the silver storm barreling down the hallway.

“Already? Time flies,” Tamlin hums getting to his feet. Today, he promised he will be picture perfect calm.

“Wait, what’s happening?” Lucien blinks, giving his tired brain a moment to shift gears. He jumps up with a gasp. “It’s happening.” He turns to Tamlin, grabbing him by the shirt to shake him. “It’s happening!”

“Yes, remember the plan? Cool, calm and collected?”

Lucien clears his throat. “Yes, yes, very calm. Bastion of support for the new parents.”

Despite this, the three of them winnow to Andras’ home and within seconds they are by Ailsa’s side. They crowd the healer who jabs at them with her carved wooden cane.

“Really, An? You couldn’t go a day without tweedle-dee and tweedle-dumb.” Ailsa teases and tosses her head back against the headboard, her brow lined with sweat and hair sticking to her forehead.

“Watch it, I can still claim your child as this year’s Tithe,” Tamlin teases. The glare she shoots at him can tear down mountains, and he recieves another jab for stressing out a mother in labor. “Sorry, sorry!”

“What happened to cool, calm and collected?” Lucien hisses.

“It was too easy.”

On one side, Andras holds his wife’s hand and caresses her head, soothing her however he can. Lucien takes her other hand, bearing through the crushing squeeze. Ailsa is more than Andras’ wife; she’s a member of their little group, except her tolerance for their nonsense is much lower than her husband’s. Andras’ also worries that the more she sees the side of him when he’s with his friends, the more she’ll reconsider her choice in partners.

Tamlin helps the healer, acting not as the High Lord, but as the only student of the greatest healer the Spring Court has ever seen. “Do you still have the potentillas petals I gave you?”

“Yes, my lord. I have kept them safe for when you need them.”

The flowers are rare, and he’s unsurprised to hear that the healer has not used them yet. “Now would be a good time.” He says calmly, and takes them to brew Ailsa a cup to soothe her pain.

The birth of a child is not easy, and Tamlin remains at Ailsa’s beck and call. It takes hours, and none of them sleep.

When the cries of a baby rings out through the burrow, relief washes over all of them. They each get a turn holding her, after the parents, of course, and when Tamlin finally gets his hands on that bundle of joy, he cannot help the tears that escape him.

“It’s a baby, a baby,” he says to none—he says to everyone. “I love her.”

“You realize you have to give her back at some point, right?” Ailsa reminds him.

“Oh, Cauldron, he’s never going to leave, is he?” Andras sighs, but the smile on his face never fades.

RHYSAND

There is no word for Rhysand.

He is just Rhysand.

No memory,

No gesture,

No titles,

No one thing that can qualify the what he means to Tamlin.

The things that he has done for a boy in need, for an enemy in the wrong place, defy anything as simple as happiness, as vague as perfection.

He is the home that Tamlin returns to, the understanding that he needs.

He is the gentle touch that soothes a vicious, wounded animal—a quiet that brings peace to a storming mind.

He is the bar against which everything is measured.

Would the Mother sacrifice her soul for him? Would she abandon her morals in the name of protecting him? Would the Cauldron grant his every wish? Would it defy its own laws if only to comfort him?

No, they would do none of those things.

There is no word for Rhysand.

He is just Rhysand.

[tamlinweek]

Tamlin Creator Appreciation: taymartiart!

It's time to show some appreciation to the incredibly talented @taymartiart!

"She's so sweet! Kindest soul you'll meet and draws the funniest Tamlins whenever he apears in her art! MAD talented!"

Tay's art is amazing, and usually hilarious! Even her sketches are full of so much movement and emotion, and we're so lucky to have her here in this fandom! Her contributions to Tamlin Week last year were exceptional, and we especially love Tamlin's break-up bouquet. To see more of her amazing art, be sure to follow her on Instagram taymartiart!

(Original artwork here along with secret Wormlin, give Tay some love!)

Submit your own favorite Tamlin works right here!

[tamlinweek]

DRAW YOUR TAMLIN!

We all know how High Lord is blonde and beautiful, with green eyes and the ability to shapeshift into an antlered bear-wolf, but we all also have our little headcanons for his appearance. Does he always have his antlers? A tail? Is he more lithe with hidden strength or a big, bulky male? What about his outfit?

With @geniemillies help, we have these doodle templates and we want YOU to fill out with how you see Tamlin! You don't need to be an artist, we love silly drawings too!

[tamlinweek]

Hey so I wanted to write a Tamcien fic but it's ended up being multiple chapters because I obsessed can I submit more than one chapter it might be two or three. Or do I need to write another fic for it and only have one chapter.

Thank you for the ask, and we're glad you're so excited for Tamlin Week!! You can post as many chapters as you like for Tamlin Week. The more Tamcien the better!

[tamlinweek]

So I did not intend on making anything for Day 6 of @tamlinweek but I got bored while trying to do my school project so here we go: Tamlin sleeping beauty AU. Amarantha curses all of Prythian to fall asleep when Tamlin refuses her, you know how it goes. Gaslight gatekeep girlboss.

Feyre didn't know what the hell she was doing. She had gone much too far hunting the wolf, her family's last salvation, that she had lost her way and stumbled into an enormous castle. What an odd place, though. Everyone seemed to have fallen asleep where they were standing, as if it were some kind of curse. She had come across the most beautiful man she had ever seen in the bedroom that was probably larger than her house. She hadn't meant to kiss him. She had simply been inspecting him closely, wondering if he was real or just a statue, and her lips had unintentionally brushed his. Now he was awake and staring at her with his beautiful green eyes.

[tamlinweek]

Tamlin as Blonde Howl

Artwork by @lucychanart

[tamlinweek]

WHICH TYPE OF TAMLIN FAN AM I?

Reblog this post and let your friends slide into your ask box and let you know which kind of Tamlin fan you are!

[tamlinweek]

Day 5, Prompt 1 of @tamlinweek: Shapeshifter

Notes: I've already written a couple of Shapeshifter-Faerie Tamlin scenes, so I wanted to see if I could put a twist to the prompt. So, welcome to Pacific Rim!AU ACOTAR. This fic is ongoing and multi-ship.

I'll probably put the masquerade prompt in this fic, too. Trust the process 👌

Read Courting the Apocalypse on AO3 or below the cut.

THE FIRST ATTACK

They came out of nowhere—somewhere deep in the sea, a place no one could follow.

The first attack happened in Australia, on the coast, and before long the massive creature was dragging itself into the city, destroying the lives of thousands. It had taken five days for the air force to take it down, in tandem with the military, and any other goddamn fighting force at our disposal. But the damage was done.

We called these creatures kaiju.

And that first guy? That first big, ugly, fucker? We called him Hybern—a level one kaiju that came back after the winter. We thought we had him, but whatever death we saw was a retreat. He waited, recuperated and hibernated until it popped up on our sensors again.

After the first attack, we knew we needed to change. We need to get bigger, faster, stronger. We needed to defy what we were in physicality by using what set us apart as the dominant species of this planet—our brilliance. We were no longer at the top of the food chain, but not for long.

And that is how the Jaeger program was born.

Giant mech suits that allowed us to change our shape and meet those things on a level playing field. We were knights—fuck, we were goddamn superheroes. We were anything but helpless little humans once the world came together and started sharing all their innovations, coming together against a single enemy. We could be whatever we wanted, fight in whatever way felt right. Plasma guns? Check. Swords? Check. Rocket launchers? Hell yeah.

But it wasn’t always good, and it wasn’t always shit.

My father was a part of the initial Jaeger Program, and he was the commander of Western Shatterdome of the Pan-Pacific Defense Force. My brothers were rockstars. They were the first dual pilot-team—the first soldiers who were able to set aside their hangups, their wants and needs, and blend into one another as one. They became our cause, and they became everything we needed.

Until me and my co-pilot killed them.

PRESENT DAY

“You need a new partner.”

“No.”

“Tam, will you slow down.”

“No.”

The auburn-haired soldier jogs beside his friend until he can stand his way; he can barely get Tamlin to stop, and much less look at him. A thick white bandage covers his eye, and Lucien knows that’s exactly why his friend won’t look at him. He sighs, trying to catch his gaze.

“It wasn’t your fault. None of it was. Not this, not what happened back then. If that’s what’s stopping you—”

“It’s not.” Tamlin snaps, looking at the metal walls of the hallway. The shatterdome isn’t made for comfort, it’s cold, utilitarian efficiency. Right now, it’s a lot more comforting than the warmth (and forgiveness) Lucien is offering him. “I’m done.”

After two partners, both of which that ended in some kind of tragedy, Tamlin gets the message. He’s not made for this fucking life. He can’t keep his partner safe, and he sure as hell can’t help his other teammates. What? Lucien doesn’t think he knows what they say about him? The PPDC are a superstitious bunch; the rangers have their rituals, and he wouldn’t be surprised that on their next deployment, if they manage to coerce him to get into one of those godforsaken machines again, they’d steer clear of him. Bad luck is contagious.

“Just go see. Andras found her manning an abandoned model two alone. Do you know how insane that is? Do you know who the only other pilot is who did that successfully? Will you,” Lucien snaps, grabbing Tamlin’s face to look at him. “It’s not your fault. I’ve been in your head. I know that you’re beating yourself up over guilt that doesn’t belong to you. I knew what I was in for signing up for this shit.”

His amber eyes search Tamlin’s emerald ones, finding all the grief he wishes wasn’t there. Lucien sighs, shoulders slouching.

He remembers the first time he jumped into Tamlin’s head—the fear and the anger had been so overwhelming. More importantly, the desperate cry to keep others out of his head was deafening. Lucien wonders if he’s the one that’s in the wrong, if he’s asking Tamlin to sacrifice himself for ‘the cause’.

“There’s so few of us left,” he says softly. Pilot compatibility has dropped over the years. Hell, there isn’t even enough people to test. The war against these monsters has worn hope down. “Someone has to believe in the PPDC. If it could be me, you know I’d free you.”

“If it’s not you, I’m not doing it,” Tamlin says softly. “We are one.” He shaped himself to Lucien—he slotted himself against his heart and mind. To abandon Lucien is to abandon a part of himself. It has to be him.

But it can’t. The second Lucien steps into the Drift, he’ll rob both of them of their left peripheral view. He knows they could adapt; he knows that Tamlin is so damn stubborn, he’d give Lucien his sight back like a healing,��avenging angel. Pair that weight along with the responsibility Tamlin feels for Lucien, he’d be taking too much of the mental load. It’s a risk that he can’t take.

Lucien pulls Tamlin close, pressing their forehads together. “Just because I’m not in there with you, doesn’t mean I won’t be there with you.”

Tamlin eases at his touch, and listens. He closes his eyes, latching onto that familiar voice that’s lived in his mind for years.

“I’ve asked for a transfer to LOCCENT. I might not be in your head, but I’ll be in your ear.” Lucien grins.

“What?" You’ve been planning this the whole time?”

“Yeah? Do I look like a quitter to you?”

No, Lucien doesn’t quit. Lucien is a fighter, through and through. To think, they’d sold Lucien to Tamlin as the failure of a legacy family, just like he was. To think, they’d made the best team—brain and brawn.

“Fine, I’ll go see her.”

“Good man,” Lucien pats Tamlin’s cheek, affectionately. His smile falters, as his hand slips to Tamlin’s shoulder. “I need you to know. He’ll be there. He’s still looking for a partner.”

Well, fuck.

[tamlinweek]

Tamlin Creator Appreciation: whatisamettafor!

Today we want to celebrate a fantastic artist, @whatisamettafor!

"All of her sjm stuff is great but she only recently dipped her toes into drawing Tamlin and been putting out banger after banger with the guy! Great person with great ideas and such fun artstyle!"

We are also totally obsessed with her Tamlin art! Tamlin and Lucien dressed as sexy kitties is TOP TIER! You can also find her on Instagram whatisamettafor, and Patreon.

(Original artwork here, please give her lots of love!)

Submit your own favorite Tamlin works right here!

[tamlinweek]

The High Lord’s Good Girl

Headcanon - Tamlin x Reader

Tamlin takes care of his very good girl

A/N: It’s Tamlin week and I’m feeling kinky. I did not proofread this, do with it what you will.

Warnings: smut, literally this is porn, major breeding kink (come on, you know that’s a kink of his - it’s practically canon at this point), possessive Tamlin may result in foaming at the mouth, fingering, MDNI.

- Scruff bristled against the shell of your ear, canines nipping slightly at the lobe, Tamlin’s hot breath fanning over you sending chills down your spine, his whispers barely more than a growl. “Who’s cunt is this?”

- You choaked on the pathetic moan his low tone elicited. “Yours, Tam.”

- The squelch of wetness as two fingers curled into you sending your eyes back into your head, hot breath once again enrapturing you in a lust-filled daze. “Good.”

- His unsheathed claws carefully gripped the curvature of your waist, teetering along that edge of pain and bliss he’d perfected in his countless nights of bringing ecstasy to your needy body, the urge to “breed, breed, breed” rang through him at those delectable fucking hips of yours.

- But tonight was about you and bringing you all the pleasure he could. He wanted nothing more than to sate his mate, care for you, provide for you so that you never had to worry about a thing

- “Whose the only male who gets to feel the way your needy cunt drips for your High Lord?”

- You whimpered, loving the nights where his possessive streak couldn’t be reigned in.

- He’d seen the males ogling your supple curves in the new dress he’d had fashioned for you. He was so fucking proud to show you to the world but he coveted you. You were HIS.

- And you fucking loved it.

- The telltale sign of your impending orgasm came to surface, your sex gripping around his thick fingers.

- “The sooner you come on my fingers, the sooner I breed you babygirl. You want my cum don’t you?”

- And gods you wanted nothing more than to come over and over on his cock, living for the way he could shape it to reach every spot that ached for him, custom fit for you and you only. “Mhmmm, yes please.”

- “Such good manners from my needy girl. Let go for me, love. Let me hear you sing for me.”

- And with that you broke, absolutely shattered for him as he bit your neck possessively, marking you as his for the taking.

- “Now on your back, angel. Can you bring those knees up for me?”

- “Perfect. My good girl.”

[tamlinweek]

Behind the mask, a yearning burns deep, Chained to guise, longing to shift, to leap.

For @tamlinweek Day 5 : Masquerade and Shapeshifting .

What each of the pictures signify :

The cup represents the poisoned drink Amrantha made the High Lords drink at the masquerade .

Amranthine : Self explanatory .

The Mask : Self Explanatory .

The Scars represent Tamlin's frustration and anger and the urge to shapeshift and be free .

The quote : Self explanatory .

The Green Robe and dagger represent the dagger Rhysand gave him - and the colour of the robe suits him ( it's mostly here because I like it )

[tamlinweek]

Hi! I have a couple of questions for Tamlin Week:

Are the prompts mandatory? If we have unrelated works that we would like to share during the week, do they have to be posted only on the Free Day?

Do all works have to be from Tamlin's POV, or can they be other characters talking about Tamlin?

Can we submit new chapters to existing fics if they fit under the day's prompt?

What about headcanons? Do they count as a submission? I have some ideas for Dark Spring, but I don't know if I can create a full piece for that day...

Thanks so much for the questions, these are awesome! Please find our answers below:

Are the prompts mandatory? If we have unrelated works that we would like to share during the week, do they have to be posted only on the Free Day?

No, our prompts are optional and they are also open to interpretation. We want to foster creativity, so if you have a twist on the prompt, go wild! They're more like guidelines more than anything ☺️ And no, you don't need to wait for Free Day. We will reblog your works on the day that you tag us!

Do all works have to be from Tamlin's POV, or can they be other characters talking about Tamlin?

Similar to our previous answer, no, there is no obligation to write from Tamlin's POV. As long as the content is Tamlin-centered (or Spring Court centered), then you're free to write however you like! Just make sure to tag your content apropriately so readers know what they're getting into!

Can we submit new chapters to existing fics if they fit under the day's prompt?

As long as the writing/content is new, then you're golden! We do not reblog old works during the week, but throughout the rest of the year, we try to celebrate as much Tamlin content as we can (and give it visibility) whether it was during Tamlin week or not.

What about headcanons? Do they count as a submission? I have some ideas for Dark Spring, but I don't know if I can create a full piece for that day...

We LOVE headcanons! We also love all kinds of contributions, no matter the format. Feel free to write out your headcanons and tag us on the day you'd like to submit your headcanons for!

We'd like to remind everyone that there are so many awesome ways to participate during Tamlin Week. If you're not one for writing or art, you can still show support by reblogging the content you see coming in, and most importantly commenting! We're a community after all, and we encourage everyone to engage with one another, too! 🎉

If you have more questions, please don't hesitate!!

[tamlinweek]

You want me to be the bad guy? Fine. Now I'm the bad guy.

More evil Tamlin who kills everybody because. reasons.

[tamlinweek]

peak at my contribution to tamlin week 2025

[tamlinweek]

New chapter of my Lucien/Tamlin slashfic. It's very horny, and very angsty.

[tamlinweek]

Here’s another round of Tamlin Week inspiration, just in case you need it! Feel free to use one prompt or the other (or both!) for your submissions! In case you missed it, Part 1 is here.

Part 2: Days 4 – 6

Powers

Tamlin is known for his power to shapeshift, both himself and others. Canonically, he can also winnow, glamour minds (ACOTAR), manipulate the wind (in ACOWAR), and heal injuries. What other powers do you think he has that have not been revealed yet? What powers do you think he ought to have instead? Some fanon examples include the ability to manipulate plants, and control earthquakes. Go wild! Tamlin would. ;)

Tamlin’s powers were obvious from a very young age. What was the first inkling that he was a future High Lord? Who was the first to notice?

Amarantha slipped a potion into the High Lords’ wine to steal their powers, but she left them with the basest elements of their magic. Tamlin is said to have kept his distance up until that fateful ball where he drunk the wine. How did Amarantha trick him? How did his powers compare before the curse, and after?

Hair

“His light golden hair was so similar to the color of his beast form’s pelt.” – ACOTAR, ch. 6

Is Tamlin the only blond in his family? Who does he resemble? Was his father’s beast form the same as his, or different?

“He [Tamlin] chuckled, and I came close enough to dare stroke a finger along the silken golden hair dangling just above my face, admiring the many colors within it—the hues of yellow and brown and wheat.” ~ Feyre, ACOTAR, ch. 19

How long do you imagine Tamlin’s hair to be? What is his hair care routine, and what is his secret to make it so silky soft?

Biting

“He grabbed my hands again and bit my neck. I cried out as his teeth clamped onto the tender spot where my neck met my shoulder. I couldn’t move—couldn’t think, and my world narrowed to the feeling of his lips and teeth against my skin.” – ACOTAR, ch. 21

Let’s be honest: This is what most of you thought of when you saw the prompt. No judgment! Us, too. So, just have fun with it. ;)

For those of you who prefer an actual bite to a love bite, consider this scene for inspiration:

“Amarantha’s scream was cut short as he [Tamlin] drove the sword through her head and into the stone beneath. And then closed his powerful jaws around her throat—and ripped it out.” – ACOTAR, ch. 45

Or, perhaps you’re looking for inspiration that’s somewhere in-between, where Tamlin is the one being bitten:

“The Bogge’s bite was crafted to slow the healing of High Fae long enough to kill us. You have my gratitude.” – ACOTAR, ch. 12

What was Tamlin’s fight with the Bogge like? What shape did the Bogge take? How did Tamlin kill it?

Does Tamlin like being bitten? There are no wrong answers here.

Chest

“His bare chest was painted with whorls of dark blue woad, and from the smudges in the paint, I knew exactly where he’d been touched.” – ACOTAR, ch. 21

If you like Tamlin on Calanmai, this prompt is for you! If it’s not really your thing, though, that’s fine, too! Consider the options below:

“And what a tremendous fortune it was: the trunks that accompanied me hadn’t contained just clothing—several of them had been filled with gold and jewels. Not cut jewels, either, but enormous, raw jewels that would pay for a thousand estates.” – ACOTAR, ch. 29

What happened to the fortune Tamlin gave to Feyre and her family? Did Tamlin ever travel to the mortal lands to check on her family while she was in Prythian? Where does he keep the rest of his family’s fortune?

“I put a hand on Tamlin’s heart, and a steady beat echoed into my bones.” – ACOTAR, ch. 46

Feyre had to stab Tamlin’s stone heart to break Amarantha’s curse. Does he have a scar? What inspired Amarantha to curse him with a heart of stone in the first place?

Spy

“I stand against Hybern.” [Tamlin said.] “Prove it,” Helion goaded. Tamlin lifted his hand, and a stack of papers appeared on the little table beside his chair. “Charts of armies, ammunition, caches of faebane … Everything carefully gleaned these months.” – ACOWAR, ch. 44

What instance made Tamlin decide to spy on Hybern instead of siding with them? How did he convince the King he was on their side in the first place? How did he keep his knowledge a secret?

Did Tamlin (or his father) ever have a spymaster? Was Tamlin ever trained to spy for his father? When did he first learn to spy, and what did he hear?

Warband

“I spent most of my life in my father’s war-band on the borders, training as a warrior to one day serve him—or others. Running these lands … was not supposed to fall to me.” – ACOTAR, ch. 11

Tamlin wanted to be a traveling minstrel, but was forced to become a soldier instead. How old was he when this happened, and what event caused it?

What was life in the war-camps like? (Remember, he enjoyed participating in dirty limericks contests! And he doesn’t enjoy losing.)

Rhysand claimed to be the one who taught Tamlin the finer aspects of swordsmanship and female companionship outside of the war-band camps. Have fun putting the pieces together on that one. ;) Tamsand enjoyers, this is your moment.

Do the war-bands still exist? If not, what happened to them?

We hope that this inspires you! We’ll be back soon with Part 3. :)