#love is asking do you want a blanket

[steddieas-shegoes]

is it the blanket or is it you?

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is asking "do you want a blanket?"'

rated t | 2,107 words | no cw | tags: getting together, first kiss, mutual pining, fluff

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one

Steve hadn't left the hospital. He slept in Eddie's room when Wayne had to work and in Max's room when he did.

Tonight he was in Eddie's room, curled up in the chair because the nurses didn't know he snuck in after visiting hours. Wayne got a cot and tried to convince them to leave it in the room even when he wasn't here, but they were so desperate for beds, they took it out between his stays.

Eddie'd woken up a few times for a couple minutes here and there. Steve wasn't ever around when he did, but apparently one of the times, he'd asked for Steve.

Wayne didn't say anything else except he seemed pretty high on the pain meds and at least wasn't in any pain.

Steve was exhausted, but his back was killing him after nearly a week of sleeping upright in uncomfortable chairs.

He watched Eddie for a few minutes, his slow breathing proof that he was too out of it to wake up.

Steve quietly moved his chair so it was flush with the side of the bed, leaving him in a position to rest his arms and head on the bed without risking touching Eddie.

It was cold in the hospital, and Wayne usually left him a spare blanket, but it wasn't in its usual place tonight. He was too tired to get up and try to find one.

He fell asleep almost as soon as he closed his eyes.

When he woke up, Wayne was standing by his side with a confused look on his face.

"Did Ed wake up last night?"

Steve shook his head. "Why?" He looked down and saw the blanket wrapped around him and the hand next to his arm.

"He moved is all. Maybe the pain meds wore off a bit," Wayne shrugged.

Steve was too busy thinking about Eddie using all of his strength to cover him up with one of the three blankets he usually had on him.

He thought about how close Eddie’s hand was to his, wondered if maybe he’d held it at some point while Steve slept.

Hoped that maybe he would hold it again.

—————

two

As Eddie got used to being at Steve’s house, he also had to get used to Steve falling asleep on the couch.

They’d watch a movie together, Steve would help Eddie to the guest room, and then apparently decide to crash on the couch.

He said it was because he was tired and didn’t wanna go up the stairs, but Eddie saw through it.

He stayed there so he’d be close in case Eddie needed him, even after his bites had mostly scarred over and his ribs had fixed themselves. Eddie didn’t push though; He liked having Steve nearby.

The first few times it happened, Steve was awake the moment he heard Eddie’s door open.

But then he started being quieter, sneaking out to the living room to see Steve face down on the couch, arm hanging off the side and drool hanging off his lip.

Eddie shouldn’t do it, he shouldn’t reach out. He shouldn’t touch him.

But he saw goosebumps on Steve’s arm and he had to check if he was cold. It was mandatory.

He gently brushed his fingers against Steve’s forearm, frowning at how cold his skin was.

He pulled the blanket from the back of the couch off and settled it over Steve’s body the best he could. His arm was still hanging out, but hopefully the heat surrounding him everywhere else would warm that up too.

He walked to the kitchen to make them both some coffee.

When Steve woke up 20 minutes later to the smell of bacon and coffee, he curled up under the blanket he hadn’t put over himself before he fell asleep.

—————

three

They took this road trip because they all needed it, but Steve more than anyone.

His parents had just left town for good, but not without forcing Steve to either go to college or never step foot in their house again. He’d thought, and they all thought, that maybe they wouldn’t bother pressuring him since the town was in shambles and he’d been a hero. They all thought wrong.

So for the last four days, he’d been staying with Eddie and Wayne in their new house, insisting on sleeping on the couch even though Eddie has a king bed now that’s definitely big enough for both of them.

Whatever they were, they apparently were not ready for sharing a bed.

Wayne kept giving him these looks.

But he hadn't pushed Steve, especially not after the thing with his parents. He offered comfort in the way he knew would be accepted and then packed everyone up in a rented RV and told Steve to drive wherever he wanted to go.

They ended up at Lake Erie, some campground that was pretty empty due to the fall chill in the air. The kids had run outside the moment they parked, sick of being stuck in the RV for the last seven hours. Robin had nudged Steve's shoulder and joined the kids, silently agreeing to keep an eye on them while he took a moment.

Eddie sat in the passenger seat next to him, waiting for him to speak.

It took a few minutes, but Eddie was always patient when it came to Steve.

"You didn't have to do all this," he finally said.

"I didn't. But I did."

Steve nodded, searching for more words.

"I'm tired," he finally said, sounding every bit as tired as he said he felt.

"You should go to sleep, Stevie," Eddie set his hand on his knee. "The kids will be busy for a while. Robin and I can watch 'em."

"You did all this for me and I'm just gonna sleep?" Steve asked in disbelief. "Isn't that a waste?"

"Not if it's what you need. If you need to sleep for the next two days, then sleep. I'll be right here. We all will."

Steve didn't argue, even though Eddie could tell he wanted to.

He got up and made his way to the couch.

Eddie nudged him further. "The bed. You and Robin can share. I'll take the couch and the kids can take the bunk beds. You don't have to sacrifice everything all the time."

Steve didn't argue. Again. He must be exhausted.

He walked to the bed, fell on top of the blankets Eddie had slipped on before leaving home, and closed his eyes.

"Wake me up in a few hours. Wanna see the stars," Steve mumbled against the pillow.

Eddie watched fondly from the doorway. "Sure thing."

Steve was asleep in less than a minute and Eddie walked over to pull the blanket at the end of the bed over him so he wouldn't get cold.

Robin woke him up a few hours later with a soda and a sandwich, soft smile on her face.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Warm. Did you tuck me in?" Steve yawned.

"Nope, this is the first time I've been back in here since I left," Robin smirked. "You gonna do something about the Eddie thing?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, I think it's time to.

+ one

After dropping everyone off at their homes, and leaving the RV at the rental place, Steve rode home with Eddie.

Well, he rode to Eddie's home, which was temporarily his home.

Even sleeping on the couch there felt better than he'd ever felt in his own home, but he didn't really want to admit it. At least not out loud.

But he'd talked to Robin a lot over the last few days, and he'd watched Eddie prioritize Steve over and over again, in ways that were different from how he prioritized the kids and Robin.

He wanted to tell him how he felt, how he'd been feeling for a while.

"Would it be okay if I sleep in your bed tonight?" Steve asked suddenly, interrupting Eddie's steering wheel drumming.

Eddie glanced over at him. "Of course. You okay?"

"Think I just could use your company."

Eddie's half-smile was enough for Steve to know he was on the right track.

"Yeah?"

"You always make me feel warm," Steve admitted.

He watched as Eddie took a breath, steeling himself for something.

Eddie's hand reached over and grabbed Steve's, laced their fingers together. His hand was sweaty, and Steve should be grossed out, but he's only endeared.

"How long you been wanting to do that?" Steve asked.

"Hm. I think when I first saw you when you walked into the cafeteria your freshman year with a fuckin' lunchbox. Something about the way you unapologetically carried a lunchbox not filled with drugs into high school made me fall hard and fast," Eddie smirked around the confession. "It was an unfortunate crush for most of high school that I tried very, very hard to ignore. And then you had to go and save my life and the world and be this really great guy and you got me good, I'll admit."

"I'm sorry, were you seriously judging me for not having drugs in my lunchbox? You do know that's just a you thing, right? Most people carrying lunchboxes actually have their lunch in them," Steve squeezed his hand to let him know he was joking. "You probably could've convinced me to join your table that first day. Tommy had a different lunch block and I was a lost sheep."

"Maybe. But I don't think you would've stayed. I think things happened like this so I could appreciate what you are to me now."

"Are you a secret romantic?" Steve asked.

"It's not really a secret, sweetheart."

"It was to me."

They parked in the driveway of the trailer and Eddie turned to Steve. "You can sleep in my bed every night if you want. Just keep in mind Wayne is the next bedroom over and he can hear everything."

Steve let out a loud laugh. "A bit presumable, aren't you?"

Eddie's face softened into something fond. "Yeah, guess so. But I figured a reminder would be good for both of us."

"Am I that irresistible?" Steve grinned at him, leaning closer.

"You have no idea." Eddie leaned closer, his lips parted, and then he moved up to kiss Steve's forehead instead of his lips. "Inside first."

"You're a tease too? Not even one kiss?" Steve grumbled as Eddie pulled away and got out of the van. "Ridiculous."

Wayne was already asleep when they got inside, so they tip-toed down the hall to Eddie's room.

Eddie immediately started stripping off his layers, pulling on sweatpants and a hoodie. Steve couldn't help but watch now that he was allowed.

"You can borrow some sweatpants if you want. I only have one other pair clean though," Eddie said, finally turning to Steve, who blushed and looked away. "Aw, Stevie! Were you tryin' to take a look? You could've just asked."

"Someone's feeling bold all of a sudden," Steve said as he pulled his sweater off followed by his shirt.

Suddenly, Eddie was right in front of him, in his space, breathing out against his lips.

"I've been wishing for your eyes to be on me for years, angel. Stare all you want."

Steve nodded. "You said something about sweatpants?"

"Yep!" Eddie pulled away and grabbed sweatpants from his drawer. "Here they are."

"Eds, these are not pants." Steve giggled. "These are barely shorts. What exactly are these?"

"Comfy pants! Or shorts! Or boxers that are just too big for me?"

Steve shook his head, but took off his jeans and pulled the sort-of shorts on over his underwear.

"I'm exhausted," Steve said as Eddie pulled the blankets back on his bed. Honestly, Steve had expected his bed to be unmade and his room to be cluttered. Other than some dirty clothes on the floor by the dresser, it was a pretty organized room.

"Get in bed. You want this blanket?" Eddie held out the blanket that Steve usually used on the couch.

"Maybe I could share yours?" Steve asked hesitantly.

"I was hoping you'd say that." Eddie sat on the bed and patted the spot next to him. "I'll keep you warm."

Steve felt like he was melting into a puddle. He got in the bed and curled on his side, facing away from Eddie in hopes that Eddie would...

"Like this, angel?" Eddie asked as he settled in behind him, pulling the blanket over both of them.

"This is perfect."

Eddie kissed the back of his head and started humming. Steve couldn't resist the pull of sleep after that.

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 2.5k | tags: different first meeting, emotional hurt/comfort | summary: What happens when Steve meets Eddie Munson, who has just failed his senior year for the first time, during one of his nightly drives? | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is asking, "do you want a blanket?" by @thefreakandthehair | AO3)

Steve's life was completely turned upside down (theoretically he sees the humor in this, but in practice the trauma trumps the pun) six months and six days ago when he came face-to-face with a honest-to-God inter-dimensional monster and barely survived to not tell the tale thanks to an airtight and frankly scary NDA.

He should be over it by now, right? He shouldn't be waking up screaming, drenched in his own sweat and shaking all over, his heart racing in his chest and his stomach in his throat.

Right.

Well, he's not. He doesn't get over it. The nightmares don't go away. If anything, he feels like they're getting worse, his mind adding horrible details and things that didn't happen, but could have, to keep torturing him.

He's a fucking mess.

Steve Harrington is a mess. His grades are slipping, on their way to joining his social status at rock bottom, and even his performance as co-captain of the swim team and basketball team is suffering from lack of sleep.

The only thing he has going for him is Nancy. Nancy, who doesn't understand that Steve just wants to get over the horror and the paranoia, just wants his life back, just wants to be normal again.

She doesn't say it outright, but he knows she thinks he's selfish, too self-centered to care about anything but himself. Sure, he's made amends with Jonathan and cut ties with Tommy and Carol, but deep down, Nancy doesn't think he's changed all that much. He's not Jonathan, he's not mature and monosyllabic and introspective. Just dumb little Steve, pretty to look at but not much else to offer.

These are the things he ponders during his late-night drives when another nightmare keeps him awake. It's impossible to fall asleep with terror pumping through his veins, so instead he climbs into his car and just drives. Some nights he will drive for hours, music playing softly from one of his tapes, Queen, Springsteen, Tears For Fears, Bon Jovi.

Tonight his drive takes him to the edge of town, right where a dirt road leads to the quarry. Steve has no idea why, but something makes him actually leave the main road and turn onto it. He follows it where it leads into the woods, slowing down on the bumpy road until he sees the dense cluster of trees open up to reveal a glimpse of the starry night sky. The path seems to open up into a clearing, and just there, to the right, Steve spots an old van.

He knows the car, has seen it often enough in the parking lot of Hawkins High to know that it belongs to none other than Eddie Munson, local drug dealer and freak.

At least that's what everyone keeps calling him, and sure, the guy seems a little weird, with his speeches on cafeteria tables, his dramatic antics in and out of class. He certainly doesn't look like most of the other kids, with his ripped jeans (clearly from wear and tear rather than fashion sense), long, unruly curls, and loud shirts advertising bands Steve has never heard of. People also shit on him for his father and for living in a trailer park, but none of that sounds particularly freaky to Steve.

Knowing what he does now, though, it worries him to think of Munson all alone out here where anything could happen to him. He doesn't know Munson, just about him, but Steve couldn't live with himself if he came to school on Monday and found Munson missing. One person has already died because of his carelessness, and no one deserves to suffer the same fate as Nancy's friend Barb.

Parking his car right next to Munson's, Steve climbs out and walks around the car to the trunk to pick up the nail bat that saved his life and the lives of Nancy and Jonathan. Then he makes his way to the opening of the clearing ahead.

Stepping out of the trees, Steve stops to take in the sight before him.

Above him stretches the inky expanse of the night sky, a seemingly endless void painted with a myriad of distant stars. The moonlight danced along the jagged edges of the quarry, revealing the vastness of the rocky landscape below in a silvery glow. The only sound that broke the silence of the night was the occasional soft rustle of leaves. The air was crisp and clean, carrying with it a hint of earthiness from the rocky terrain. In this secluded enclave, far from the lights of the city, the stars were front and center, and Steve felt unbelievably small.

With his shoulders hunched over his ears and his arms slung protectively around his knees, the figure sitting on the edge of the cliff looks even smaller than he feels.

It seems that Munson didn't even hear his car approaching, and that makes Steve's hair stand on end because it means that anyone, anything could have snuck up on him. It's not safe.

Steve approaches cautiously, trying his best not to startle the other boy and cause him to fall to his certain death.

"Munson?" He asks softly, quietly, but to no avail. It still causes Munson to flail in surprise, and only Steve's quick reflexes keep him from falling over the edge. With his knees still smarting from the sudden drop to the ground, Steve has his arm wrapped around the other boy, and both of them are panting from the shock.

"Fuck, man, are you trying to kill me?" Munson's voice quavers too much to be truly biting.

Steve carefully loosens his grip on Munson and leans back to sit on his haunches. Running a slightly trembling hand through his hair, he can't help but bite back. "If you paid more attention to what was going on around you, you would have heard me coming. I wasn't really trying to be subtle. It's like you want to get killed."

Munson scoots away from the edge of the cliff and climbs to his feet to look down at Steve and the nail bat he dropped when he made a grab for the other boy. He raises a judgmental eyebrow, causing Steve's defenses to go up in an instant.

They look at each other, brown meeting hazel, until Munson breaks the silence. "By someone walking around with a nail-studded bat, you mean?"

"I wasn't going to hit you with it!" And crap, abort Harrington, abort.

Now both eyebrows look at him questioningly. "And who, pray tell, pissed off King Steve enough to deserve this kind of treatment?"

"No one! For God's sake, I thought you might be in danger and wanted to be prepared in case you were." Then he adds, "After what happened to Will Byers and Barbara Holland, you'd think people in this town would be more careful instead of hanging out in the woods in the middle of the night."

Ed-No, Munson's eyes soften at his explanation. "Shit, sorry man. You're right, I guess." Shuffling his feet, he offers his own explanation for his harsh reaction. "Just had a shitty day, I guess. I shouldn't have bitten your head off for trying to look out for me. Although I never thought King Steve would ride in on his white horse to save the school freak from unimaginable evil."

"White horse? What, like a knight? Does that make you the damsel in distress, Munson?"

Munson gets a strange look on his face at Steve's words, and before he knows what's happening, the guy pretends to faint right into his arms. He catches him just before he hits the ground and feels how cold the boy's body is in his thin t-shirt. "My savior," Munson croons, and Steve rolls his eyes at his antics. Still not a freak, but definitely weird.

Instead of dignifying this with an answer, Steve says, "You're freezing, man. What are you doing out here in the middle of the night anyway?"

Dark brown eyes search his, and Steve thinks he's never seen such expressive eyes. He can read a myriad of emotions in them and he doesn't even know the guy. Sadness, caution, defeat, and something he's seen in the mirror a lot in the last few months: fear.

"I bet you have better things to do than listen to my sad little problems. Can't imagine you're just running around town rescuing damsels in distress now, I'm sure you have places to be, a kingdom to rule..."

"Could you just drop the whole 'King Steve' crap, man? I'm not him. Not anymore. Even if nobody seems to have gotten the memo."

"Okay, woah, sorry, man. I didn't know this was such a touchy subject."

"Do you want me to call you a freak and make assumptions about you based solely on high school gossip?"

"I don't know, don't you?"

"I'm trying not to. You don't have to tell me what's going on if you don't want to. I'm just saying... I know what it's like when you can't stand lying in your bed staring at the ceiling any longer. Wanting to get out and leave whatever it is that's bothering you behind, but no matter how fast you drive, it keeps catching up with you."

He's rambling, he knows he is, he didn't plan on unburdening his heart to Eddie Munson of all people, but here they are.

"I failed senior year." Eddie finally admits in a small voice, not meeting Steve's eyes.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Fuck, man. That sucks. Can you repeat it?"

"Sure. But I... God, everyone was right all along. I'm a failure, a fuckup. Just like my dad. A good-for-nothing waste of space. I haven't even told Wayne, I can't stand the look in his eyes when I tell him". There are tears in Eddie's eyes and Steve's heart breaks for him.

"Fuck!" Eddie shouts across the quarry and a flock of birds takes flight somewhere in the nearby woods. He's shaking again, and this time it's not from the adrenaline. Steve can't really take away any of the things that are weighing on Eddie, but he can offer him something else.

"Do you want a blanket?"

Eddie's doe eyes blink at him slowly, as if he's not sure he heard him right.

"You're only wearing a T-shirt, you must be cold." Eddie doesn't deny it. "Let me get you a blanket, then."

Another slow blink, and then, "If you're...sure?"

Steve gives him a smile that he hopes is warm and reassuring. "I'm sure." He walks over to his BMW and takes the nail bat with him, exchanging it for the blanket that he keeps in the trunk of his car at all times. Tommy H. calls it the "baby maker blanket," which is so typical of Tommy that Steve wonders why he was hanging out with him at all. Maybe because he was a friend to Steve when no one else would be.

But maybe he won't tell Eddie about the blanket's history. Anyway, it's freshly washed and smells only of his detergent.

Handing it to the boy, Steve says, "There you go," before turning to walk back to his car.

"Where are you going?"

When Steve turns back, Eddie is sitting on the ground with the blanket around his shoulder, one end held open as if inviting Steve to join him.

"Back home?" It's not supposed to sound like a question, but some of his reluctance to leave seeps into it anyway. He doesn't want to go home to his empty house and bed, afraid to close his eyes in case the nightmares come back.

"Look, you don't have to, of course, but if you want, you can stay and tell me what brought you here in the middle of the night. Or not. We could just sit here in silence, totally fine with me."

Steve snorts, because even though this is the first time he's had a conversation with Eddie, he can already tell that silence doesn't come easy to him.

"If you're sure," he repeats Eddie's words back to him as he makes his way over to him.

"I'm sure," Eddie says firmly, wrapping the blanket around Steve as soon as he sits down next to him.

Many things surprised Steve that night, but most of all how comfortable the silence between him and Eddie had felt as they watched the stars until they gave way to the rising sun.

They never talked about that night again, the polite nods in the halls all the acknowledgment they allowed for what had happened.

But when Steve walks across the stage to receive his diploma in 1985, he notices Eddie's absence and his heart aches for him. He had been looking forward to seeing Eddie walk across the stage next to him, to give him a smile, a wink. Maybe even ask him out for a celebratory beer, if he's being completely honest with himself.

The sad truth is: Steve had no one to spend his graduation with, no girlfriend, no friends, just a 13-year-old know-it-all whose bedtime didn't really allow for any kind of grown-up celebration. Eddie was his only hope of not being alone tonight.

That's probably why he's heading out to the quarry again that night, bat and blanket in tow.

It's a shot in the dark, and at the same time it's not. Because there Eddie is, sitting on the edge again, small and defeated, and just as alone as Steve. Without a word, Steve joins him on the ground and wraps the blanket around them both.

"I'm sorry."

Eddie's warm weight settles against him. "Me too." Silence falls between them, and Steve thinks that's all they'll say, but then Eddie nudges his shoulder with his own and says, "I'm sorry, too. About Wheeler."

"Me too."

Steve thinks that even if he's not a poet, there's something symbolic in the way they both watch the sun rise again over the quarry.

The next time he wrapped the blanket around Eddie, it was again in the middle of the night. Only this time, Eddie is unconscious in the back of his car while Steve races to the hospital, praying to any God who will listen that this will not be the last time.

It isn't. Not by a long shot. Getting the blood out is not easy, but with Joyce's help he manages. The blanket is there when physical therapy is especially grueling, when they both sit on the porch of Eddie's new trailer, Steve holding Eddie under the blanket's protective cover.

It's there when Steve moves in with the Munsons and gets a special place on Eddie's bed, though they never make love on it. The blood was hard enough to get out, and the material doesn't look like it can take much more deep cleaning.

They take it with them when they move to their apartment in Chicago, and it's there for every bad day either of them has.

Their blanket finds its final purpose, however, with the arrival of their daughter, April. From the day their little bundle of joy moves in with them, she sleeps wrapped in the foundation of Steve and Eddie's love.

Steve may not be a poet, that's Eddie's job, but he appreciates the symbolism all the same.

[lady-lostmind]

Sick

Love is: Asking, "Do you want a blanket?" And the kiss left on my forehead.

a @steddielovemonth prompt Thank you @oh-stars for betaing this!

WC: 91 | Rating: G

ao3 link

Steve curls up on his side, clutching his middle with a groan. Eddie squats down in front of the couch, reaching out to brush away the hair plastered to Steve’s sweaty forehead. 

“You want me to get you a blanket, sweetheart?”

Steve groans and peers up at Eddie, his head bobbing in a weak nod. 

Eddie presses his lips to Steve’s forehead and mumbles “I’ll be right back,” against his skin. 

Steve sighs, feeling a little better even as he curls tighter around himself to wait for Eddie to get back.

[emry-stars-art]

Next person to apologize for adding to my posts/ranting in the tags gets left in the stocks ‼️ stg! Tag rants and additions and asks are the only things that have been motivating me to keep creating like this!! Please never stop yourself if you have thoughts!!!

[twpsyn-who]

Thinking about Steve and Eddie waiting for the right time to propose to each other and they somehow do it at the same time.

And they don't know that the other wants to propose, nor do they tell the same people. Nancy and Jonathan know that Eddie wants to propose to Steve. Robin and Dustin know that Steve wants to propose to Eddie. The reason why Steve hasn't said anything to Nancy and Jonathan was because it felt a little bit weird to talk about it with your ex and her partner. On the other side Eddie KNEW neither Robin nor Dustin could keep a secret from Steve he didn't trust those two with the secret and Eddie really wanted to be special.

They chose the same place to propose, too - the Lover's Lake because that's where everything began and they wanted to give that day a good connotation. Steve and Dustin and Robin has worked hard for a character sheet for Steve ; it was literally Steve if everything they had gone through was part of a DnD campaign but with the difference that he was married to 'Eddie The Banished' (Steve planned to give the sheet to Eddie and wait until he got to the married part until he asked "If you would have me?" and get out the ring). Meanwhile Eddie and Nancy and Jonathan worked on this album full of photos with the party together over the years (the kids through high school + the graduation photos ; the photos from their trips around the state ; Steve with either Robin or Nancy and Jonathan or Eddie or the kids or the Byers or everyone ; little moments and random photos with caption like 'First time trying pineapple on pizza!!!' or 'First date without the kids around') with the last photo being of Steve and Eddie (the very first photo they took together) with the question "Will you marry me?" under it.

They looked over them at the same time. Stopped to fucking process what was going on. Look at each other like two idiots. They took the ring out at the same time and I don't know if they started laughing or crying or arguing over who would propose but I can guarantee the answer was yes from them both.

BONUS : Meanwhile Robin & Dustin meet with Nancy & Jonathan while hiding near the lake and they all do the Spider-Man meme while questioning each other what they were doing there. Everyone fucking face palmed when they came to the conclusion that those two were going to propose at the same time. Pure gold.

2 x BONUS : Somehow Max knew about it and said nothing because she thought it would be funny (and was 100% right)

[willowser]

lol bakugou is so openly POSSESSIVE even on national television its almost ridiculous but i wkajdisiwi i like it.......

love island genuinely must be so taxing bc i could not sit on the side and watch someone i like talk to and get to know someone else LOL i would. cry smfnskal he means well ! 🥺 he wants to be good 🥺 but he knows how wonderful you are and he doesn't trust these shit heads not to try and SNATCH YOU FROM HIM !! he hopes you understand 😭

[oatbugs]

if i had an allergic reaction again will my friend appear to hold my hand again if i get really drunk again will they carry me home if i'm too sick to get up will she call me at 5 AM to check up again if we've missed a flight and we're stuck in city we weren't meant to be in at 2AM will he tell me about philosophy again if i make bad decisions will she almost slap me in the face and hand me a cigarette again if i feel lost will she share shitty kebab and tell me about her life again will we get to play poker together again

[mblue-art]

It's me again, anon, who adores your love-hate towards Cross. Friend recently showed me a video in tiktok where there was a sound of 'oh I hate that man...but oh, cara mia...how i love him'. It immediately reminded me of you. Tsunderes keep winning. Let's go tsunderes ✊️

hhhh h hhhi anon i do, i do ha-

[enha-stars]

hanaaa ☹️ i want to write a series and i have the perfect idea but i'm scared that i won't finish it. i want to make it a long series but i've only ever written short stories. can you help me out oh great writer goddess? 🙌

araaaa ☹️ you’re so cute. this is so valid! committing to a series, especially a long series, is so difficult. i think the only piece of advice i can give you is to take your time! the best work always comes from attention and love, so make sure you really like the idea you have. draft an outline for the series and for the chapters and then get started! there’s no time crunch, regardless of people saying “when’s the next chapter?” and “how often are you updating?” ignore them. this is your story, and you get to set the pace.

even if you get started and write a few chapters, and then suddenly you can’t write anything else, that’s okay. i promise it is. creativity comes and goes and you aren’t a bad writer for abandoning the series.

i think you should definitely start the series! even if you don’t finish it, your wonderful writing will be out in the world and i know so many people will love it. besides, it’s always nice to try something new! that way, no one can fault for you not trying.

[ingoinghost]

If the fucked up Submas reunion with overjoyed to confused to concerned to panicked to wholly utterly terrified Emmet and heavily distorted half-dead half-notalive primal fear inducing Ingo doesn't hit the exact vibes of that one particular scene from Kairo 2001 then what is the fucking point?

[malepresentingleg]

ahhhhh like i really am rooting for jeng, i do love him, but god how can he keep doing this to pat after he tells him to stop 😭😭😭😭

[rogersstevie]

it’s so funny how much kids seem to like me when i struggle so much understanding the words they’re saying if they’re really little and i’m BETTER at interacting with them than i used to be after all these years with my nephew and nieces but still like. kinda awkward

i like them too, to be clear, kids are the fucking BEST even if i don’t want them for myself. but i’m always just kind of stunned when kids attach themselves to me seemingly so easily

[fluffypotatey]

How’s the pillow fort going? ✨

it's going good! lost internet for a couple days so i bunkered down in there, but was unfortunately pulled back into the world. i may need to upgrade my fort's walls....maybe include some battlements

[macroglossus]

okay BUT. i finished the two paintings that have a time limit!

[iknityounot]

(Long post, sorry y'all)

A little more than two years ago now, my grandmother passed away. She and my grandpa had moved down to my home town a few years before so we could take care of them. I brought them groceries once a week, helped them write checks, fixed tvs, and found lost things. I was really close with my grandma.

In addition to her hilarious personality and dry wit, one of my favorite things about her was that she was a painter and a crafter like me! She used to crochet, and I took her to the craft store a couple of times so she could get more yarn and books on crochet. But her arthritis and the shaking in her hands kept getting worse, so she eventually had to stop.

She kept her most recent project, a granny square blanket, safely packed away in a plastic bin. She told all of us she was going to finish it one day.

Her hands never got better, and when she got sick, and we found out it was cancer, she rapidly deteriorated.

After she passed, I went to work helping my mom clean out my grandparents apartment so we could move my grandpa in with her. In our frantic cleaning, I found that bin again:

DOZENS of granny squares, dozens of half used skeins. I asked my mom what she wanted me to do with it, and she said she didn't care. I set it aside and later took it home.

Maybe a month later, that tumblr post about the Loose Ends Project was going around. It felt like a sign--I was never going to learn to crochet in order to finish my grandmother's blanket. But they might be able to help!

So I filled out the interest form. They got back to me SUPER quick. And maybe 2 weeks later, I was paired with volunteer in my state (only 2 hours away!) and the box of yarn, granny squares, and my grandmother's crochet hook were in the mail. That was at the end of January this year.

Over the next couple of months, my "finisher" emailed me regular updates on her progress, and asked me questions on my preferences for how she constructed the final blanket.

At the end of August, the blanket was done!

I had always intended the blanket to be a gift for my mother. So I cleaned it up, put it in the only bag I had big enough to fit it, and drove to my mom's. I gave the blanket to her and she was gobsmacked. I explained to her all about Loose Ends, and how someone volunteered to finish the piece for us. She was speechless. (I was quite pleased with this, because I am not the best at giving gifts, so this was a pretty exciting reaction!)

She said that it was the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given. She said "your grandma would love this". To which I replied, "yeah, I know she really wanted to finish it a couple of years ago". But that was when my mom dropped the bomb of a century on me--she told me that my grandma had started making those granny squares OVER 30 YEARS AGO. She had started the blanket when my grandpa was staying in the hospital, but that was back when my mom was younger than I am now! My grandma had packed them all away, planning on finishing it, when my grandpa was sent home from the hospital. Then it went from house to house, from condo in Chicago to their apartment in my hometown. All that time and my grandma had wanted to finish it, but couldn't. First because she was busy, then because she forgot how to do it, then because of her arthritis, and then because of the cancer. My mom said she had given up on expecting my grandma to finish it. 

She said I brought a piece of her childhood with her mom out of the past.

And really, all of this is to say, if you have seen or heard about the Loose Ends Project and have an uncompleted project or piece from a loved one who has passed away--these are your people. They were so kind and treated my project with such care. That box probably would have been found by my own grandkids one day if I hadn't heard about Loose Ends.

Five stars, absolutely worth it!

(From what I understand, you can sign up to volunteer too! If you have time to share, it might be worth checking out!)

[satoruxx]

you're sweating when you wake up, skin sticking painfully to your bedsheets as your bleary eyes dart around, attempting to make focus of your surroundings. the room is still dark, barely touched by the slight bit of moonlight that attempts to peak through the closed windows—defiant. it takes a minute to realize that the sounds that are breaking the silence are actually coming from your own throat—breathy, wheezing gasps of terror.

your stomach drops when your fingers grip cold and empty fabric. he's gone he's gone he's go—

"what are you doing up, pretty?"

your head snaps to the doorway. satoru stands there, sweats hanging low on his hips even as his hand remains curled around a glass of water. his hair is tousled with sleep, but his cerulean eyes are sharp and lively.

as soon as he sees the panic lacing your expression, his eyes widen, long legs practically tripping over themselves as he stumbles towards you.

"what happened?" he asks sharply, frantically placing the cup on the bedside table to take your face into his palms. shades of blue dart back and forth across your features as he perches one knee on the mattress and peers down at you. "are you okay?"

his touch sends electricity through your veins—a splash of ice water pulling you away from that painful reverie.

your heart both clenches and soars, the idea of what you saw being terrifying, and yet finding out it wasn't true being that much more relieving.

"i just—" your voice comes out choked, and satoru's fingers twitch against your skin imperceptibly. "had a bad dream."

you think your brain must be cruel for conjuring up a dream in which satoru could suffer to such abhorrent extents.

"oh sweets." satoru's sigh is sympathetically soft, thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek just barely. "it was just a nightmare."

"i know," you swallow, voice shaking. there's an uncharacteristic wetness pooling at your waterline. "i-it just felt so real."

"baby..." satoru immediately pulls you against the steady planes of his chest, thick arms snaking around your waist to eliminate any measly amount of distance between you two. you prop your chin on his shoulder, sighing as you feel his snowy hair tickling at your cheek.

"it wasn't real, sweetheart," he says, pulling back just slightly to push a piece of hair from your face. his thumb then drags under your eyes, wiping away the unshed tears. "see. you're here, i'm here. everything's all good."

"yeah." you're nodding, unable to take your eyes off of him because he's real and alive and so breathtakingly perfect. "yeah, you're right."

he gives you a lopsided smile, eyes bright and glowing. "i don't like to brag, but i usually am."

you snort out a laugh, missing the way his expression turns pleased at the sound. "hilarious. you love to brag."

"you got me there," he shrugs, grinning as you stick your tongue out at him. the lighthearted banter solidifies the fact that satoru is fine and unharmed and completely yours, but you can still feel the apprehension coursing through your veins. chills run up your spine—you try not to show it.

but of course, satoru has always been able to see right through you.

his teasing smile goes soft, and he inhales deeply.

"was it about me?" he asks, climbing into bed next you. you lay back down carefully.

"yeah," you mumble, watching him tug the blankets over your body and tuck you both under a cocoon of warmth.

"hm." something in his tone tells you he's not unfamiliar with the feelings you seem to be experiencing—his body shifts closer to yours. ocean eyes carefully asses you, deep and calculating and so concerned even as he smoothes a warm palm over your shoulder blades. "wanna tell me what happened?"

the truth is you do want to, because satoru has always understood you better than you've ever understood yourself—you have no doubt he'd be able to comfort you just as well as he normally does.

and yet...

"no," you answer, pressing your nose into his neck. a deep breath in, the lively scent that is so inherently your gojo satoru filling your very soul. "it's okay. i think i'll be fine."

when you shut your eyes, images flash behind them—of bloodied bodies and stitches and swapped souls. yet a chaste kiss to your forehead pulls you back to where you're supposed to be, warm and grounding.

"i know you'll be fine," satoru murmurs, lips tickling your brow as he speaks. you think you can hear the gentle smile as he says it, and your grip on him tightens—never letting go. "i'm right here after all."