Send Me ( Ordoor ) And Ill Generate A Number For My Muse To Show Up On Your Muses Doorstep( A Mix Of

Send me 🚪  ( or ‘door’ )   and I’ll generate a number for my muse to show up on your muse’s doorstep ( a mix of angst, silliness, and fluff ) …

crying

starving

possessed

sopping wet

blackout drunk

holding a baby

after a car crash

looking for a fight

covered in bruises

after being mugged

covered with confetti

severely dehydrated 

angry beyond reason

with a broken arm/leg

covered in blood (theirs)

after having a nightmare

after being missing for days

after the death of a loved one

covered in baking ingredients

about to faint from exhaustion

with a real crown on their head

on their knee, with ring in hand

covered in tiny scrapes and cuts

covered in blood ( someone else’s )

holding a baby animal ( sender’s choice )

thinking about the finding. oh yes the bruise-littered skin and rubbed-raw wrists and red-rimmed eyes, oh yes the shallow, pained breaths and semi-consciousness, in and out for the pain, but more acutely: the finding. the 'you are safe now' as well as the 'how do i touch you without hurting you'. the 'i'm here, and i'm sorry that i'm late'. you know

“Strange human.” Tamlin muttered, looking up and studying her face with intense curiosity.

“Odd faerie.” Feyre replied, meeting his vibrant green eyes with her cool gray ones, and moving closer — as if to observe him under a microscope. She did not want to miss anything: how the light glistened in his blonde hair, how his lashes fluttered nervously as she approached. Most of all, Feyre did not want to miss him. Ever again.

Read on archive of our own. 🪷

send in " brushing of hands " to see the receiver's reaction to the sender gently and purposefully brushing their hand against the receiver's (not actually holding it, but sending clear signals that they would like to!)

Tamlin had ringlets as a child, prove me wrong

This is my contribution to Tamlin week

@tamlinweek