#blanket meme

[home-and-having-tea]

How it looks wearing a blanket over one shoulder:

How it feels wearing a blanket over over shoulder:

[memes-for-the-meme-kind]

My muse is shivering from the fall weather. How does yours react?

[theyoungerwitwicky]

💙 the largest and fluffiest of blankets has been bestowed to you, little one.

Chloe’s eyes widen in surprise, and she grins as she snuggles up into a tiny human burrito. 

“This is the best blanket I’ve ever seen. Where did you even get this?” She’s just. Gonna roll around in it now. “Thanks, Optimus!”

[alunarmoonandstars]

Comment Down Below If You Relate

[ask-captain-faris-archived]

(Magus) 💟

send "💟" for my muse's reaction to your muse suddenly wrapping mine in a blanket with no explanation

Faris was, she had to admit, mildly surprised when Magus wrapped a blanket around her, even though her longcoat, which was hanging on the back of her chair, was in desperate need of repairs. “Mildly”, because by his own admission he’d been spending time around a certain adventurer. And She was sure they were good friends anyway.

“Thank you, Magus. It was getting a bit chilly in here.” She admitted before a thought occurred to her. “Shouldn’t you be grabbing one for yourself?” the Captain asked, showing some signs of concern.

[aylenlavellan]

💙@Kaaras (( the warmest Ferelden ram pelt ever ))

SEND 💙 TO PUT A BLANKET ON MY MUSE

He must’ve read her mind. Before she could even say a word about the cold, she felt the weight of a pelt being placed on her shoulders, and strong arms wrapping it around her. It was ram pelt, soft and fluffy and extremely warm and cozy. She didn’t have to look up to know it was the Inquisitor, but she did anyway and gave him the brightest of smiles.

“Always prepared for everything, aren’t you? Even for the cold.” She hugged the pelt tighter around herself. “Alright, this is it. I’m not getting anything done today, it’s going to be ‘snuggle in fluffy pelts’ day.”

@kaaras-adaar

[ruinaa-archive-blog]

💙

Send 💙 to put a blanket on my muse

          ( accepting -- mutuals. )

          it’s another bad day in a string of them -- everything sharp and fraying all at once, a thread pulled so hard the whole thing unravels in a rush. shilah there, trying to calm her down, his hands against her shoulders and then around hers and don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me until the words all bleed together, don’ttouchmedon’ttouchmedon’ttouchme and he lets her go. you’re okay, jo, he says over and over and over again, until it starts to finally, finally ring true. in the apartment. with shilah. the dogs sniffing around her feet, prizrak whining into her hand, not understanding. everything brought into awful clarity before it settles, smooths over, the edges smudged out like a watercolor painting. you’re okay, jo. and she is.

          they don’t make it to the bed, but that’s all right; with her head in his lap and his hand in her hair, they’re quiet for a long, long time sitting there together on the sofa. i’m sorry, she says at one point, her voice quiet and aching and a little raw, and shilah shushes her, thumb sweeping over her cheek in the gentle way that always makes her go quiet. (they’ll have to talk about this, all of them. roman and shilah in that hushed, secret way they always talk about these things, like they still don’t want her to hear, and then roman and shilah and her, shilah watching from the doorway as she tries to sort through her feelings. she expects it. she doesn’t mind.)

          eventually, she must nod off, because she wakes briefly to shilah holding a hand under her head to guide her back down to the sofa without disturbing her too much and a blanket settling over her, a kiss to her temple and you’re okay, sweettart, go back to sleep before she closes her eyes again.