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justlymine · 1 year

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finished the niblet’s quilt!

where I left off, I was almost done with the front:

I whipstitched the circles onto the quilt--you can see on the red circle top left the white thread i used to hold the folded under edges in place instead of pins. I ended up leaving that little section of temporary stitching instead of ripping it out like the rest of them, because it looks cool and i thought it was a fun detail of how it was made.

The way i make quilts, next i baste the front to the batting, trim it to fit, then sew the backing fabric face to face with the front of the quilt on three sides. Like making a pillow. Then I turn it rightside out and I have the front and back of the quilt stitched on three sides with the raw edges turned in, with the batting secured in between.

it’s hard to see the basting stitches on the white fleece (I didn’t have a wide enough bit of batting so i used 2 layers of fleece instead--this quilt was entirely made out of bits from my stash) but here I am stitching around the edges of the quilt, doing three of the four side seams.

I am living with a friend right now who makes quilts (gorgeous quilts--I’ll have to show off the one she made me sometime) and she came home to see me with the quilt spread out in the hallway on a peice of cardboard with pins sticking down into it like a bulletin board (to keep it in place while I basted the bits together) and she asked me what I was doing. I explained and she got excited--she had recently been to a talk on old-timey ways to make quilts, and they used to make them that way (the way i made up) in the USA a long time ago? so i asked her how she does hers, and she says she lays the three layers--top, batting, backing on top of each other the way the final quilt will look, then stitches through the three layers an inch from the edge, then binds over the raw edges with a strip of fabric to make the edge. Then quilts. (It actually sounds easier than my way so i might try that way next time--fewer wrinkles to smooth out i bet)

Anyway, once the circles were on and the three layers assembled, it was time for quilting! My previous quilts I quilted with circles or swirls or lines that ignored the pattern of the quilt and were in a color that complemented the backing of the quilt. This time i decided to quilt around the characters in the circles, in a color that matched the characters. This turned out really well on the front, but since I don’t use a quilting frame or embroidery hoop, the back of the quilt was a big mess. And some of the colors made the mess really obvious!

this is the back. It’s a little hard to see here but it was this mass of red or black uneven stitches in random clumps about the size of my hand. It wasn’t a big deal for the messes in blue and green and white, but I didn’t like the higher contrast messes.

So i covered them! I think it looks super cute actually.

I want to show off the quilting since it looks so nice on the front--totally worth the back mess i think.

I stitched around the white circles in white

I stitched around the monkeys in green (and note the pale blue border I put around this circle, to make it stand out from the main background of the quilt--I think it came out really well! i’m proud.

I quilted the blue background in blue swirls (top half has been quilted, bottom half still to go--you can see how much better it looks)

I quilted along every other straight flower row in green for a nice wide quilted border.

after all the quilting was done, i folded under the raw edges of the last side and stitched them closed.

finished front:

(some of my friend’s quilts are on the couch behind mine)

finished back:

(I signed it at my friend’s suggestion, with my location and year--per that workshop she went to)

and one last pic of the quilting. Isn’t it nice :)

I really love the feel of this quilt, with the fleece instead of batting. It’s heavy and flexible yet soft. Not so springy and light. makes a great play mat.

#quilt #Baby Quilt #handquilting #finished at last!#sewing #reblogs welcome

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botchallthethings · 3 months

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okay I think I'm doing the thing again where I have six projects at once or something...might need to commit to finishing some of them

Spinning wool for the sweater (long term, goes hand in hand with designing the sweater)

finishing the nalbinding of the mittens (then felting them)

embroidering the lizard on the stained shirt now that I finally have a design to cover the ink stains

finishing the sock now that I'm at the easy gusset part

(at my own pace) combing through the rest of the cria blanket

starting the crochet hook holder (I literally have everything I need now*, the only thing holding me back is intimidation)

Okay not quite as bad as I thought, since some of these are long-term off-and-on-again projects anyways. but still, I should probably rotate back into some of these.

whoops, I forgot I need to finish nalbinding the third mitten (this one uses my handspun and I'm going for a more traditional/historical shape). Jury's still out on if it's worth it to make a pair...it might be good to do that and practice some more traditional embroidery motifs on the back of them once I'm finished. but to be honest I would rather knit or spin than nalbind right now...

* so I'm trying an experiment here with making my own quilted fabric for this, and decided to try making my combing waste into batting instead of going for the leftover polyester batting I used for a quilt last year. I was ready to start on the case yesterday then had this idea and promptly chickened out of pinning (I'm using a zipper in the construction and it's bending my brain a little, plus I might need to cut my fabric again and ew, that's intimidating). I checked the batting this morning and I think it's going to work!

I wasn't sure what was going to happen--the principle behind this was inspired by a kids book on hatmaking that featured the protagonist making felt by using a bow to distribute loose fur fibers evenly and randomly, then spraying the mat with water through his teeth. In the book, it all shrunk together miraculously!

That seemed miraculous to me when I was younger, and today raises an eyebrow since most felting methods I know are, well, more vigorous than that. But, I don't need to make a dense felt, I just need batting, so maybe it would work? (I didn't feel super comfortable using a more vigorous friction method because this is combing waste, after all, and the fibers are pretty short and thus a lot more easy to separate)

I re-washed my combing waste since there was some residual lanolin on it, rinsed out the soap, squeezed as much of the water out as I could, then sort of lay the fibers out out on a paper towel and teased teased them open, bit by bit, so the fibers were laying every which way within a rectangle shape. When I had a decently thick, even layer, I patted the wet wool down with the backs of my hand to encourage it to be coherent and then took it to a drying rack and lay it out to dry.

This morning, I checked on it and was very pleased! I don't know if it's as coherently intertwined as a commercially-made polyester batting (and it certainly doesn't resemble the natural fiber batting sold at stores; that stuff really does look like true felt), but it's certainly not as loose as last night and it seems to have shrunken well together.

I am planning to use quilt it into place with diamond lines of stitching like you see on commercially-pre-made quilted fabric, so even though there's a lot of short bits inside, I think it will stay in place. I've also heard that wool batting tends to keep its spring for longer than polyester? I don't know if that's true, but even if it's not, it's not a big deal. This is a small bag for crochet hooks, not a quilt, and the hooks are not particularly fragile or pointy, so the protection offered by the batting is more to give the project a nice handfeel.

#the book was boss of the plains if you're curious #really excellent kind of children's book #making do #muddling through

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wonkysews · 6 months

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Vest 2

the yardage & dress. the yardage was a beautiful cotton/wool from miss matatabi that i accidentally tortured in the washing machine. it looked even worse before i stretched it back out as much as i could. now it is a very interesting cotton/felted wool crinkle plaid. i liked the pockets on the dress and figured i could incorporate them.

I realised the dress was a trapeze cut so I took apart the panels, squared them off, and sewed most of them back together to make an on-grain (mostly... its linen and I'm not great at this) rectangle of fabric

i quilted the linen to some batting (just a few vertical lines - i didn't want to sew through the pockets or have a quilted 'look' to the linen side. we'll see how that pans out; i'm not planning on washing this beyond some spot cleaning so it shouuuuld be fine. i then laid the yardage on top and safety pinned the three layers together.

doubled up and patched together the pattern* so i could lay out the whole thing with as few seams as possible (just shoulder seams!) for this vest, I didn't have enough black linen for bias binding and none of my remnants looked good against both the yardage and linen to me. so i decided to try cutting the linen side with enough of an allowance to double fold over and sorta self bind the edges. this is stupid and doesnt work very well, but perfection is not my aim and the yardage is fucked up beyond belief anyway so what are a few more weird wrinkly bits? * This purl soho pattern, which i've modified heavily in length and shape, especially the front

basted the edges like so. i rolled with any folds/pleats needed to make the edge of the yardage fit into the linen layer neatly. i left the back neckline and recut it a couple of times to try to fix a fit issue (it helped a little but i think i need a redraft or darts to fix it properly)

i knew my sewing machine would not be able to evenly feed the crinkled yardage even with a walking foot, so i tried something new and cut off the shoulder seam allowance entirely and instead joined it with a strip of linen i wrapped around the entire seam that i would fell down on either side. i also left the hand basting in underneath to give it a little extra strength.

all basted. all i had to do from this point was make the ties and fell everything down! didn't take photos of the tie process but i just sewed a tube, used a loop turner to turn them inside out, folded one end in and hand stitched it together to close them off and hide the raw edges.

shoulder seam felled down.i'm not an amazing hand sewer but i'm getting better, especially thanks to resources like this one. when i got to felling down the parts where i wanted the ties, i tucked the ties in between the folded over linen layer and yardage, tacked them to the yardage & batting inside the seam allowance, and then continued felling down the linen over the ties.

finished vest! not pattern matched, you can see where i was more successful stretching the shrunken fabric back out, odd tension where the 'binding' fights the grain of the fabric... but i'm happy with it, especially the pockets. i'm glad to get some use out of my stupid mistake with the wool/cotton plaid yardage. i might pick stitch/ hand quilt some areas eventually but for now i'm gonna leave it.

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littlewalken · 2 years

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Oct 17

Some times it's just easier to delete the post then deal with all the adult content bots that want to like it. But check out the music made from the Heironymous Bosch Garden of Earthly Delights painting because one of the mixes sound so Depeche.

Tried again to get the roadie story going by typing it in to the tablet. Didn't get to reading past incarnations I might not in favor of reading interviews with the inspiration and ingesting other related media.

As much as I want to delete what I wrote out of thoughts it's still not working I think I'll try and finish out this draft of further fleshing out the notes. I can always go back, dull can always be livened up. Right now its at the telling myself the story stage and our hero is currently doing laundry in the middle of northern nowhere.

Some of my writing reaches a stage where it feels like the first few paragraphs are set in stone and no matter when or how the rest gets written that is how it needs to be.

For example the Gashir story with the good doctor falling asleep in his dress uniform and waking up in a bed where one side is still warm.

Got to take the time to enjoy some of the things I've squirreld away. I know my brain is starving for happy brain chemicals and what I'm doing is non toxic and non destructive. I could really use some positive human interaction.

On other topics did I mention I was able to rearrange the units in that giant patch quilt to make it more rectangular? The math is in 8s not 6s, to my defense I survived a traumatic brain injury when I was finally getting proper math tutoring so it's still fucked up, but one row of units come off a side and went to the bottom and the left over was quartered and reattached to the side.

Why didn't you... The patches were assembled in unit blocks of 16 patches each and it was easier to only have to deconstruct and then have to resew one. Once the top is resewn again I will try it on a twin bed and if the size is good take it to the store to purchase a boarder, batting, and backing and go from there.

I want a boarder so that will get touched and dirty instead of the squares. This quilt is being made to sleep under. I have slept under the food and space quilts. It was nice.

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stagevalencia7 · 2 years

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shrikeseams · 2 years

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Finished! Validate meeeeee.

Some encouragement for anyone else considering this project:

♡ I queued my various progress posts, and it actually only took me about one long weekend of work, not counting last minute trips to the local quilt shop and hand-finishing my binding.

♡ Apart from the lining, this is about 75% made from one jelly roll, with some support from existing scraps and maybe 1, 1 1/2 yards of additional fabric. (The jelly roll is the celestial batik from Missouri Star.) Now, I'm fat, this pattern has lapels, and this is cut to a Seamwork size 26. If you're a smaller person and/or using a simpler pattern, you can maybe get away with a jelly roll plus lining.

♡ My patch pockets are orphan blocks from the exterior and from a 2016 baby quilt. If you have orphan blocks lying around, this might be a fun way to use them!

♡ New quilting cotton has no drape to speak of. I expect this coat to soften and drape much better after a few washes.

♡ ETA: THIS HAS NO BATTING OR ACTUAL QUILTING. Tbh that would take much longer and be more difficult, and you'd have to bind all of your seams instead of just the hems. I live in Florida and this is about as much jacket as I ever need, but if I wanted to make something warmer I'd probably do a flannel interlining or something instead of true quilting. I'm still debating some hand stitched quilting around the cuffs and collars though, to keep everything stable.

Some additional notes, in case anyone else wants to do something similar with the Seamwork Quince:

♡ I used the Seamwork Quince body and the Seamwork Baz collar. It came out pretty well, but I had some trouble with my shoulder seam coming up short at first. I had to piece on extra fabric at the shoulder and sleeve, which was fine with a scrappy mixed pattern project like this.

♡ OK, you see the blue and yellow half-square triangle midway down the sleeve? I expected that to fall at my upper arm. It's at my elbow. And that *is* the top of the sleeve pattern piece. Now I do have narrow shoulders, but the shoulder on this is *very* dropped.

♡ Another sleeve issue: the cuff piece is meant to be folded over, ie halved in length down the arm. I decided to combine the sleeve piece and the cuff and didn't account for that, so my sleeves are hilariously long and have to be cuffed back, like, 6 inches.

Overall, if I decide to make another one... I'll use the Helen's Closet Pona Jacket pattern, which has everything I want in a quilt coat pattern without any hacking. But this was the pattern I had already in my profession and printed, and it worked out well.

#San sews #Sewing #Quilting #Quilt jacket #Garment sewing #Sewing clothes #Quilt #handmade quilt #pattern #I sew my clothes

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darkfearsandkittyears · 3 years

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Y'all, it's Whumptober! I'm super excited!

Okay, uh...funny story [and super embarrassing for me] I am a highly unorganized person, I have a calendar in my room, but it's so much easier to check the date on the huge calendar in the kitchen! So, I calculated the days till October in August, and promptly forgot to write prompts and outlines, [even though I pants most of my works].

Fast forward to today, when I see my mom writing down the October events. I was like, oh, she's just reminding herself for next month.

Then I realized.

I literally forgot that September comes right before October.

I literally thought that I had another month to plan ideas.

One of you come whack me on the head, I really need it.

Anywho, let's get on with the show!!

"Come on, Damian! Reach for it." Jason dangled Damian's bottle, inches from the baby's hands. Damian whined and stretched his arms out as far as they would go, attempting to snatch his bottle. Jason smiled at the child. "Scoot forward. Like this." He demonstrated, pulling his body along with his arms. Damian stared at him as if he'd grown a second head, then cooed a little. "Yeah, it looks whack. But come on." Jason shrugged and put the bottle down, wagging Damian's little toy dog instead. On what planet did this qualify as a dog? It looked more like a deformed elephant. The woman at the store had insisted it was a dog….he had to get Damian some more toys. All the parenting books said that babies needed good toys for development. "Come on buddy, get your..animal." Jason called. Damian laid his head on the quilt and sucked his thumb. Jason snapped a quick picture as the little boy nodded off, tuckered out by 'tummy time'. "Come on Dames, don't fall asleep just yet." Jason said, grunting as he got to his feet. The wound he'd sustained wasn't helping any, and the painkillers weren't working right, thanks to the pit. Oh well. "Come on kid, you can't fall asleep on your stomach." Jason rolled the sleepy baby over on his back. Big blue eyes batted up at him, laced with sleep. Looked like Bruce, a little. House of Wayne. Once upon a time, Jason had wanted to use the kid as leverage...but this was a baby, and his brother. He'd realized that, but realized it a little late. Damian deserved to grow up, shielded from batdad's nonsense and in a world without Joker. Godamn it, Talia was right. Having a 'family' around him had cleared his head. And screwed up his plans. Majorly. But he wouldn't trade it for anything. Besides, he'd nearly had Joker's brains splattered against the wall yesterday, right in front of Bruce's face. He'd make them watch, make them all watch when he pulled the trigger on Joker. For himself. For Barbara. For Damian. Maybe then, when Joker was dead, he'd present Damian to Bruce. Let Bruce wage war against the House of al Ghul while he and Damian ran for the hills. Then they'd double back and destroy both families. He couldn't kill Bruce, not until Damian was older. Jason was no Willis Todd, he was far from willing to force his brother into a life with no father. Picking sides would be Damian's choice, when he got older. But for now, it was Damian, Jason and Talia against the Joker and Batdad. Not a hard fight. Especially when Jason had the upper hand. "We're gonna be just fine." Jason smiled down at the sleeping baby. "We're already winning." Damian's eyelashes fluttered, and he let out a tiny snore. Jason picked him up and transferred him to his playpen, then wandered out of the living room and into the bedroom that he'd converted into a gym. A rumble of thunder burst through the room, and Jason paused, hoping it wouldn't wake Damian up. That was pretty loud, for thunder. The ground seemed to shake with the sound. The pull up bar he'd installed yesterday clattered to the ground, and he flinched lightly as an image of a crowbar flashed before his eyes. It felt as if something had hit him in the back, but he chalked it up to imagination. He was probably imagining the fog around him too. Some things Joker gave him, he could never get rid of. But Damian began to cry, loud, hysterical wails that sent fear up Jason's spine. Another rumble broke through the air as Jason sprinted out of the room. A sickening crack ricocheted through the house, and Jason unwillingly moved to the left as something brushed his right shoulder. A support beam. "Damian!" Jason had never moved so fast, weaving past and through the falling drywall and wood. He was only feet away from the playpen when Damian's wails choked to a stop, as if someone had turned them off. Through the fog and falling objects, he reached into the playpen and curled around the child, shielding him with his body as he tried to find an exit. Damian's body was limp in Jason's arms, not a cry or a coo. Jason risked a

glance at the child's closed eyes and pale, dust covered face. He shoved the blanket up to cover Damian's nose and rushed blindly into the direction of the doors. Behind him, a beam fell and what was left of the house shuddered. An eerie feeling washed over Jason, settling right in the pit of his stomach. Everything went quiet, but Jason tensed, alert. A hot burst of air slammed into his back, and he knew he'd been right to keep alert. Jason grunted as he was thrown into what was left of a wall, which crumbled, pinning his legs down. His mind fogged like a static TV, and he could feel warm air. Fire. Then realization hit. Damian was no longer in his arms. "Damian. Damian!" His throat was raw, coated in drywall dust and dirt. But he yelled on, hoping, needing to hear anything from the rubble. But there wasn't a sound. Jason pulled his leg from under the rubble and plowed through it to the best of his abilities, climbing over and under and around piles of garbage that had once been a house. There was an odd feeling in his leg, the only other thought that wasn't an urgent repeat of, "Find Damian!". But he quickly suppressed the feeling, because through the fog and dust and smoke, a tiny hand protruded from under a beam. Jason attempted to lift it, but couldn't. Damian was trapped under an air pocket, but any wrong movement would send it all crashing atop him. A lever. Jason searched desperately for a board or pole to use as a lever, but saw nothing. But then his eyes scanned over his own leg, and he had to look back at it. His foot was quite literally facing the wrong way. The odd feeling vanished and became a sharp pain that nearly took his breath away. Focus, Jason. The League had trained him as a sniper, and he was good at it. He excelled, even. But all snipers knew how to do one thing. Hyperfixate. And that skill, with the help of adrenaline, might just save both his and Damian's lives. Jason looked around the room once again, eyeing the position of the beam that Damian was under. If he could manage to get across the rubble, he could crawl into the air pocket and rescue Damian. Jason pulled his body up and over rubble, ignoring the extreme pain that was now burning through his body. At some point, that white agony would get the best of him, but for now, adrenaline was masking most of it. "Damian!" Jason called again, nearly falling over a piece of wall. His broken leg slammed into a sheet of metal, which dislodged. The beam began sliding, and Jason screamed, unwillingly. He felt his legs propelling him towards where his brother lay, and he pulled Damian into his arms and cringed as the beam fell down around them. "Damian...Dames." Jason panted as the dust settled, smoothing the dirt off his brother's pale face. The baby was too pale. He had to get him out of here. The falling rubble was controlling the fire, but smoke inhalation would kill them. And Damian had been unconscious for far too long, but there wasn't a single scratch on the child to evidence any injuries. Jason growled in frustration. "Damn it!" His entire body hurt, his leg most of all. Adrenaline was wearing off...the pain was mixing with the green light of the pit, and together they nearly blinded him. Rage, and pain. Great combination. He looked around for a way out. It was like a grave. Tight, and hard to breathe. No Jason. No. His breath caught, and he knew he'd just screwed up. There wasn't enough air in his lungs, and he could breathe it in quickly enough. He clutched Damian to his chest and tried to get in a breath, to no avail. Whimpers punctuated his breath, and the rational part of him could have laughed at himself. But he couldn't. Whimpers turned to screams, and nothing made sense anymore. He screamed the only name he knew would come for him. "Bruce! Bruce, please!" He could hear his own screams dying out, feel himself losing a grip on consciousness. "Dad! Dad...Bruce…" His voice rasped into a whisper, and he gritted his teeth. "Batman! Dad! I need you! Please...please dad!" Not a soul

stirred. "That's right. He's not coming for you." Joker whispered sadistically. Jason shook his head desperately, tears mixed with blood running down his face. "Shut up, you stupid clown! Please! Bruce. Bruce! Please!" Like a miracle on Christmas eve, a ray of light shone into their prison, and a familiar shadow fell across Jason, along with another pound of dust. Damian wailed, and Jason shielded himself and the child against the dust, then spiraled into an exhausted darkness. Four hours later, he pulled himself out of the pit of unconsciousness. "Dami?" Jason slurred, exhausted. "He's fine, Jay. With Alfred." That voice. Jason made an attempt to bolt upright, only to find that he was secured to the bed. "You have two broken legs, five ribs, son." Bruce muttered, undoing the restraints. They must have given him some hefty painkillers, since he could feel nothing. "Call me son again-" Jason snarled, his voice cracked and dry. "How am I your son, if you had the nerve to let him live?! I gave you the choice last night, Bruce. Save me, or save him. You threw a batarang at my throat instead." "Jason-" Bruce looked wounded, his jaw working with words he didn't know how to say. "No! You don't get to "Jason" me. Not after what you did. You don't deserve to have your son." "Jason." Jason looked up at Bruce. "What?" "I put a batarang in your throat?" Disbelief surged through Jason. "You didn't know? All those years of aiming those damn things, and you didn't know?" Bruce's face was as stone cold as ever. "No." Jason had probably imagined the look of sorrow on his father's face. It wasn't like Jason meant anything to him anymore. "It only nicked me, lucky for you. Doesn't even matter, I'm alive. Surprising, isn't it? You wanted me dead and him alive. What, you got a crush on him?" He looked away, unwilling to meet Bruce's eyes. "I hate him, Jason. I just can't kill him." "You screwed me over Bruce. All this," Jason gestured to himself, "Is your fault." "You have a son, Jason." Bruce said softly. "He's not my son. He's my brother." Jason replied, tone dark. "He's your son." There was a dead silence that almost resonated. Jason chanced a look at Bruce. For once in his life, the man looked truly stunned. Did he break him? "Bruce…?" "Talia's child?" Bruce whispered. "Yes." A sudden whim forced him to add, "And you can't have him. You're not going to get him killed too." "I wasn't going to make him a Robin." "Cut the bullcrap, Bruce!" Jason screamed, startling both himself and Bruce. "Yeah, maybe I almost got us both killed, but I've never put a gun or a batarang in his hand and told him to throw it!" Bruce hesitated before speaking. "It wasn't your fault. The city was destroying a building, and the explosion shook the foundation of other buildings. I couldn't get to you two as quickly as I should have. I'm sorry, Jaybird." Bruce sighed. Sorry. Sorry doesn't cut it, Bruce, Jason wanted to say. "Whatever, Bruce.", was all that came from his throat. "Not the first time you've forgotten me, anyways." "If I had known-" Rage surged through Jason. "Save it! Why the hell is he still alive? That's my only question. Why. Isn't. He. Dead? Don't kill him. Fine. But let me kill him. Look at Barbara! Isn't what he did to me enough?! When will it be enough, Bruce? When he murders Damian?" Hands gripped Jason's shoulders, and he stopped his tirade. "Son…" Bruce began, then stopped. Jason could feel his face crumple, not a word slipping past his dry lips. "I can't kill him, Jason. I can't let myself go off that edge. "You failed me, Bruce. When will it be enough?" Bruce didn't answer. Jason swallowed against the knot in his throat and spoke roughly. "I just want him dead. All I ever wanted was to make you proud...then you left me with him. That, the abandonment, it doesn't even hurt anymore, but I wanted you to kill him. For me." Jason's face twisted into a scowl that thankfully repressed the tears. "Make him die." He spat. "I can't, Jason. I'm sorry Jason. It's meaningless, but I'm

so sorry." Bruce looked physically pained. He's acting, Jason told himself. "If you're sorry, don't let him hurt anyone else." "I can't promise that." "I know you can't. But I can!" Jason yelled, finally. But instead of his rage getting the best of him, it all just evaporated. He felt nauseated, as if someone had punched him in the gut. But all he vomited up were words, words that he shouldn't say. "All I ever wanted was to make you proud...then you left me with him. I don't care about that...but didn't you care about me?" Bruce's expression darkened to something that Jason had never seen before. "I put the Joker in a body cast for a year. That permanent limp he has is evidence of it. I couldn't bring myself to murder him, because in his dead eyes, all I saw was myself in him. And it was all too peaceful. He tortured you for months. I'll torture him for the rest of his life." Bruce said the words like a vow, determination lacing his tone. Jason stared straight ahead in shock. Silence settled over the room. "You-when was Joker dead?" Jason finally asked, almost dreading the answer. "Dick killed him when he found out what happened. I couldn't let him live with the remorse, so I revived him." "Dick….killed him." Jason repeatedly slowly, almost dumbly. He wanted to feel anger that Bruce had brought the damn clown to life, but he couldn't. "He always had a temper." Bruce said lamely. Oh great, both of them were shutting down their emotions and verbalization. "Didn't think he'd go that far." "I did. He loves you, Jason." "Don't talk to me about Grayson. He managed to do what I've been trying to do." Jason managed a rough laugh. "Isn't it funny, Bruce?" Bruce only stared at him, a near pitiful expression on his face. It wasn't until Bruce hugged him that Jason realized that there were hot tears streaking down his cheeks. Slowly, Jason hugged back, blinking back the stinging wetness of his eyes. This, all this 'emotional seminar with the Batman' was a total mistake. So Jason let go of Bruce and pushed him a little to regain personal space. Bruce unsurprisingly was fine with taking back his boundaries. "You're doing alright, Jaylad. You took in a son that wasn't yours and you're raising him." "I took him in for all the wrong reasons." Jason bit his tongue. "And what are your reasons now?" "Touchè." Parents...and adoptive older brothers make mistakes with kids. They fail them and screw them up. But Jason's mistakes with Damian could be fixed. Jason couldn't. Not until the clown died. "You can always make the present better than the future." Bruce said. Dammit, old man. "Whatever." Valid points. Very valid points. "Who else trained you in manipulation?" Bruce just looked confused. Either this was more manipulation, or Bruce being bipolar by the days. Whichever one, Jason would try his luck. It was a mistake, destined for disaster. But he just couldn't help himself.

#jason todd angst #jason todd #batfam #batdad #baby damian #whumptober 2021 #writers on tumblr #Wrote it in school #Okay Batdad #Batman #batman and robin #bruce wayne #dcu #detective comics #dc comics #batman fandom #red hood angst

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royaidaydreams · 3 years

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FMA Roy and Riza Cosplay Tutorial 2/3

Here’s a write up/tutorial of my FMA Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye cosplays!

Part One Jacket Tutorial

Part Two: Waistcapes and Pants

The waist cape (aka butt skirt) is incredibly easy to make. Stiff interfacing between the layers gives the skirt it’s shape. Without it, the cape would sag pitifully.

As nice as the interfacing looks, it’s pretty inconvenient in terms of practicality. In the first photo you can see wrinkles formed just from regular movement and walking. These can be ironed out between cons, but the more we wear them, the more permanent the folds and wrinkles become. If I made these again, I might use cotton batting (the thin layer in a quilt) instead to hold it’s shape, still be thin, and avoid wrinkling.

Here you can see just how well the skirts hold their shape.

As much as I love the butt skirts, they were super inconvenient to wear for a long period of time. We couldn’t sit in them. At least, I wouldn’t let us sit in them to avoid wrinkles. We either stood the entire con, or kneeled on chairs. Husband was a sport for putting up with this.

Because I didn’t measure the length of our skirts is different. I think Roy’s waistcape is a little too long. The length is supposed to come to mid calf about where the boots end. The boots my husband used were on the shorter side, so at the end of the day I didn’t mind the length being a little inaccurate because it looked good.

Here’s what the back side of them looked like. When it comes to sewing for cosplay I’m of the mindset that only the outside needs to look good. These are not practical clothes so the inner seams don’t need to be finished/polished.

In order to look animated the belts are also seamless. I was able to do this by folding the light gray cloth (a precut 1/4 yard from Wallmart) over the white interfacing peaking out. The arrows use this same material. Luckily, the light gray fabric matched the bias tape from JoAnn Fabrics perfectly. Interfacing helped the arrows hold their shape because half of it hangs off the skirt. No saggy arrows!

In a rare twist of events I chose to make the seam on the arrow visible. It does look pretty good, giving the design some character. I think it was done as more of a practical choice to try to hide attaching the arrows to the skirt. On the backside you can see I hand sewed the arrows on by attaching it at the seam. As much as I love using my sewing machine, I always trust myself and hand sewing more when it comes to delicate sewing and hiding seams.

It’s not pictured, but the arrow goes underneath the belt, not over it.

Here’s the back of the cape where the two pieces meet in the center. Just a simple triangle covers them. See the difference between the clean seam on the bias tape and the messy seam triangle? I’m really not thrilled about how ugly the seams look here. Maybe I’ll fix it one day.

At first I tried attaching the belt using adhesive velcro (the round circle at the end of the belt). The butt skirt is too heavy. In order to hold the belt up we had to safety pin them to our pants.You can see in our photo up above the skirts pulling downward as we wear them. If we were to remake them, I’d make the skirts less aesthetic and more functional. I’d try to hide a real belt in some loops underneath the gray belt in order to properly hold the skirts’ weight on our hips.

The blue stitching on the gray bias tape is from hand stitching. On the front the blue thread is invisible.

Why is this photo blurry!?! Sorry.

These are Riza’s pants. They are double layered to be opaque and 3/4 length because they tuck into the boots. There’s elastic around the bottom and the pants are more round to give a “puffy” when tucked into the boots. Because I don’t properly measure anything, these were sized from a pair of yoga pants. Remember to add an inch or two to the backside of pants in order to account for the booty.

I was concerned the pants would fall down, so I added a zipper to the front of Hawkeye’s to make them more secure around the waist. If I were to remake them, I wouldn’t use a zipper at all. But if I did, I’d be careful to make the flap overlap the opposite side more. You can see the safety pin I used to secure it at the top.

The hidden zipper. For making pants for the first time ever, they turned out pretty well. But I had no clue what I was doing and it showed. Luckily, by the time made Roy’s pants, I figured out a more efficient design.

These pants are for Roy. The front of the pants are flat and elastic is used on the back half (which is hidden by the skirt) There’s no chance of these falling at a con and they are so much simpler to make than pants with a zipper. Here is the tutorial that explains how to make them.

The front looks flat in manga and anime so it was important to me to copy that look.

We jokingly called my husband “Colonel Bellbottom.” These were sewn a day before the con and I just gave up. I didn’t worry about making the bottom neat because nobody saw it. Husband tucks the ends into his boots. The pants are wide on the bottom to give an appropriately puffy shape.

That’s it for the pants and skirt tutorial! If you ever have questions, shoot me a message. Stay tuned for one last post about all of our accessories, from guns, gloves, to masks!

#cosplay #roy mustang #riza hawkeye

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

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Harringrove April Day 16- Nostalgia

On just about every flat surface in their mansion, Steve’s mother had put out some fancy Tiffany light fixture.

Steve’s room was the only place in the whole house he got to have any day in the interior design, and his lamp, well it didn’t quite have a stained glass shade, or ornate detailing to fancy up the mansion, his happens to be an old nursery lamp from when he was six and still had a themed bedroom.

At the peak of his too cool for school teenager bullshit, he’d attempted to throw it out, sent it away to the curb with a bag of stuffed animals he claimed he didn’t need anymore, but the very same night he started having nightmares again, so he scrambled to get it back before the raccoons found it first.

That dusty old lamp had saved him from countless nights spent awake and terrified, and he wasn’t one to say he was ashamed of that.

Except, now Billy Hargrove, the pinnacle of badass, is in his room, and there it is, still plugged in on the nightstand.

Of all things too, it couldn’t have just been a generic race car lamp or something he could play off as not really being for kids, it had to be stupid Bambi.

There’s a story behind it, that when he was a toddler, his first venture out of Indiana was to go see his gramma over in Maryland, and, after one look at his big brown eyes and his fluffy brown hair, she immediately nicknamed him Bambi.

After that the name just sort of stuck with him, his parents using it when they wanted on his good side, to make up for forgetting his birthday, or as an apology for leaving him alone so long the babysitter left, so of course his mom thought it would be adorable if his bedroom was themed around it.

Somewhere in a dusty corner of the attic, he still had the curtains and the quilt and the wall hangings, and under his bed was a pillow embroidered with his name and a picture of the clumsy cartoon deer made by his gramma. And of course, there was the brightly shining lamp.

He would never admit that he kept them there for when he was at his most frightened, clutching the pillow to his chest during a nightmare, or wrapping the soft material of the tiny old quilt around his shoulders when he felt an imaginary pair of eyes watching him.

Because Steve had seen some shit, he felt that after witnessing a ten-foot tall faceless monster come through the ceiling and try to kill him, and having a herd of baby versions of that same monster charge at him with nothing but a baseball bat to protect himself and a group of defenseless children, he had earned the right to use a damn nursery lamp in his bedroom.

But, that ass-backwards swell of pride at still using his childhood comfort items at 19 years old is definitely crushed by the fact that, after being in his room for a grand total of five minutes, that’s immediately what Billy drifts to.

A drunken apology at a New Year’s party might have made up for the concussion and proved he was probably not going to beat his face in again, but it didn’t change the fact that he was in Steve’s bedroom with the edge of the printed lampshade pinched between his fingers, and a contemplative look on his face.

It was a little while after their truce was reached, that Billy just started showing up at the Harringtons’ door unannounced. Sometimes it was to borrow Steve’s first aid kit. Sometimes he’d steal some of his weed. Once he’d come over just to watch something on Steve’s TV. Whatever his reason, Steve had let him in every time.

In this particular instance, it had been Steve who had called Billy, because he had a math project and an essay due first thing tomorrow morning, and Nancy was too busy to help him.

At first he’d considered just not getting the work done, but he decided Billy would do. He was smart enough that the co-ed teacher in the math class they shared had begged him to switch to the advanced classes, so Steve figured his help wouldn’t be so bad.

But his desk where all of his school stuff is is upstairs in his bedroom, where he’s left out the dumb baby lamp, and of course that would be exactly what Billy goes straight for. Steve feels himself start to panic a little, unsure if he could trust Billy’s reaction, and convincing himself that Billy might beat his ass for being a fragile little fairy or something.

It never comes, Billy just sits down all casual on the bed next to Steve, pulling one of his legs up so he could cross it over his knee, and nods over at the lamp again. “Wish I still had something from when I was little.”

The weight of the entire universe is lifted from Steve’s chest, knowing that Billy isn’t going to tear his head off. He lets out a sharp breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “Yeah?”

Billy nods and looks down, fidgeting with the pendant he always wore around his neck. “My dad threw everything out. All I have is one little picture of my mom.”

Steve knew he lived with his step-mom, but had never even thought about what happened to Billy’s real mother. He realizes the pendant was probably a locket, the very one that holds the aforementioned picture, and asks “Can I see it?”

It looks like Billy has to think about it, as he keeps twisting the locket between his fingers, before he nods and opens it. Steve leans towards him, putting his hand up under it and holding it in his palm, straining to see the tiny, aged picture.

Even though he’s never seen this woman, it makes Steve incredibly sad, seeing her little face all worn out in that locket around her son's neck. He wonders if she was dead, or if maybe she’d lost custody for some reason, or if maybe she had just left, but whatever happened, when his eyes flicker back up to Billy’s face, the tears shining in his eyes and the way he avoids his gaze, he knows better than to ask.

Steve lets the locket fall and watches Billy snap it shut quickly, and he realizes he has no idea what the right thing to say is.

What he wants to say is that he’s sorry, for him losing his mother and having nothing but one yellowed and tear stained picture to remember her by, but that seems too much like prying, somehow not really appropriate.

Instead, he remembers what Billy said about his dad throwing his stuff out and says, “Your dad must be a real asshole, huh?”

Billy scoffs and blinks away the last of the tears in his eyes. “You’ve got no idea, Harrington.” There’s a long awkward pause, until Billy asks, “You know how I’m always coming over here with like, all kinds of shit wrong with me?”

Steve thinks he knows where this was going. “Sure.”

Chewing on the corner of his nail, Billy takes a moment to get his thoughts together, his eyes flitting nervously across the room, focusing on pretty much anything but Steve, mostly the picture frame behind him. “I lied. It’s not, like, fights or whatever I say. At least not with other kids.”

Steve himself was no stranger to conversations like these, he himself had to confess something of a similar calibre to Nancy, when they were still dating, because his father had come home from a business trip pissed off about something, and slapped him across the face just a little too hard. The sturdy silver ring that he wore on his middle finger had split the skin on Steve’s cheek, and he couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse to cover his tracks.

Admitting to it out loud was one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, so he decides he won’t make Billy say it. Maybe they weren’t on the best of terms, only here to do homework or whatever, but if he was going to open up about this, he definitely wasn’t going to make him experience that same humiliation he had.

“Is it your dad? That does that to you?” Nancy hadn’t been kind enough to spare him, forcing him to tell her once that the scar he so proudly sported wasn’t actually from a fist fight with Tommy like he said, and he wouldn’t do the same to Billy.

In lieu of a response though, Billy sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, his hands starting to shake ever so subtly, and Steve knows he’s got to keep pressing. “Do you need help? I can call the chief-“

“No.” Billy shakes his head and makes eye contact with Steve for the first time since he started talking. “Cops only make it worse.”

Steve could understand that, had tried once when he was about eight or so, with the assistance of one of the housekeepers, to call the police when his father twisted his arm so far behind his back his shoulder popped out of place, but they wouldn’t dare arrest a public figure like his father, especially not for a little corporal punishment. The first thing they’d asked was what Steve had done wrong, not why his father had felt it fitting to beat on his eight year old for a tiny mistake. He never asked for help again.

“Well is there anything I can do?” Despite their differences and the fact that he only called him here to cheat on his homework, he truly did want to help Billy. Something about repeatedly surviving horrific monster attacks made him a lot more protective of those around him, and now that they were over their dumb pissing contest, Billy was included in that too.

“Think you’ve done enough letting me into your mansion, unless that’s not good enough for your hero complex.” It was a pathetic jab, there was no bite behind his broken tone, and Steve would almost rather have him at his worst than see him so vulnerable and sad.

Steve tries to reason with him softly, “You know it’s not like that, Billy.”

“Do I?” Walls had been put up as Billy made his last ditch efforts to protect himself from being weak in front of Steve. “Cause where I’m sitting, it seems like you get off on charity cases like mine. You tryin to swoop in and save me, King Steve? Feed your ego so you can feel like the savior you were always meant to be?”

He was baiting him, trying to pick a fight so he’d push him away, Steve had seen it all before in himself and wouldn’t fall for it. “Listen. I just want to help you.”

Everything about Billy suddenly seemed to make a whole lot more sense. That whole part animal, tough guy thing was just an act, and Steve knew because he had done essentially the same thing.

Before Nancy Wheeler had taught him to be better, he and Billy really weren’t so different. He’d let high school bullshit bother him, beat up the nerds and fucked all the cheerleaders and mocked anyone lower than him on the social ladder like he was supposed to, but it always made him feel off.

In the end, it had been so easy to get him to the other side, to show him what to do instead, he supposed all he needed was a little push to help him actualize what he already believed.

And then it hits him, in that moment, that this was Billy’s push in the right direction. That he was Billy’s Nancy.

“I don’t expect you to tell me everything and I’m not doing this for me, just,” It became extremely important to him to not set Billy off, to say just the right thing to keep him on the right track. “my door is always open, Billy.”

At first, it seemed to have worked, Billy sat staring at the floor, his lip quivering as he mulled over Steve’s words, but, when he stood abruptly and snatched his leather jacket from where it was draped over the back of Steve’s desk chair, Steve knows he messed up.

“Where are you going?” He stands up fast enough to give himself a head rush while Billy shrugs his jacket back on and yanks the door open.

“Need a smoke.” That’s all he gets before the door slammed in his face, and he hears Billy's heavy boots stomping down the stairs and the sound of him slamming his front door.

He waits with bated breath and tears pricking the corners of his eyes for the sound of Billy’s car starting and tearing out of his driveway, but it never comes.

Still, he feels immensely guilty and selfish and stupid as all hell for not just biting his tongue. He should’ve just fought back, argued with him like was expecting him to instead of trying to be comforting like he was his fucking therapist or something.

Because this was Billy fucking Hargrove, stereotypical meat head bully. Why he even felt the need to help him, other than their similar upbringings and coping mechanisms, or the fact that Billy had obviously been reaching out, hoping for someone to care, was beyond him. Or maybe it really wasn’t, he knew exactly why, he just felt weak and stupid for trying, and especially so for failing.

Apparently he’d been so caught up in his little pity party that he missed the sound of the door opening back up, and didn’t notice Billy had come back until his bedroom door was open.

Steve was so relieved that Billy came back, that he hadn’t pushed him too far or fucked everything up, even if he reeked of too strong cigarettes, and growled at him when he came in, “Don’t we got fucking work to do, Harrington?”

They don’t end up finishing the essay. Steve was hopeless with numbers, and they were too busy goofing off, so the math project didn't get done very quickly. It was okay though, Billy wasn’t much help at all when it came to English anyways.

Steve walks him outside when he has to go, beating a curfew of midnight. He stops on the porch, immediately crossing his arms against the frigid cold of the night air. Billy stops too at his car, his fingers through the handle, and turns around, calling across the yard. “Hey Harrington?”

He hardly waits for Steve’s response, a quick “Yeah?” to tell him, “Thank you.”

There isn’t time for Steve to respond before Billy’s yanking open the door of his Camaro and backing out of the driveway, but he knows he’d still made astronomical progress tonight.

It makes him feel incredibly dumb, laying in his bed that night, illuminated by the warm light of that very same Bambi lamp and trying to put his thoughts of Billy to rest like he was some cheesy teenage girl, but he’s just happy to have found a friend, to have made a difference in somebody’s life, and he knows that on the other side of town, laying in own bed with his locket left open on the pillow beside him, Billy feels the same way.

#harringrove #harringroveapril #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #ej writer #story by ej!#love how I had something completely different planned but ran out of time and had to dig in my drafts for this fic #and it still took me forever to edit it

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tj-crochets · 3 years

Note

I have a very dumb question about quilts; so once you have all the squares planned and laid out, do you just like sew them together? And is there a special quilt stitch or something? And then what do you do about the back bc I assume you don't want all the messy stitching and flaps and stuff just out for all to see, and would it be the same process for the more complex quilts that have pictures on them?

Hey! Not a dumb question at all, I tend to skip a lot of steps in my progress pictures. This is going to be a long explanation, so I’ll put it behind a read more.

Everyone probably has their own version of quilt making techniques, but I personally stack up each row, left to right, and use a clothes pin to clip a piece of paper with the number of each row to each stack. Then I take a stack to my sewing machine, and sew the top two squares together, unfold them, put the next square in the stack on one edge, sew it, and continue like that through the whole stack until I have a row complete. Then I repeat it with the rest of the stacks to make all the rows. Once I have all the rows complete, I put one row on top of another, pin it in place, and sew along one edge. Then I unfold, add another row, and repeat until the entire quilt top is done.* A quilt top is not a finished quilt, even though it has all the squares sewn together. The next step is making a quilt sandwich (for real that’s what it’s called): you lay out the backing fabric (which is what’s visible on the side of the quilt that won’t be the side you just sewed together) right side down, then the batting (the fluffy-ish stuff inside a quilt), and then put the quilt top on top, right side up. You awkwardly crawl around on the floor (if you’re me, anyway) trying to make sure there are no wrinkles or folds anywhere in the bottom layers of fabric. Then you pin all three layers together. I use safety pins but I think there’s some sort of specialized pin that exists? From there, you take the completed quilt sandwich to your sewing machine. I think there might be a few different schools of thought on where to start actually quilting a quilt, but I like to start in the middle and work outwards from there. You’ll have to fold or roll up the edges of the quilt and put some muscle into maneuvering it around because quilts are a lot bigger than sewing machines. You can do decorative stitches, or freehand swirls, or draw hearts with stitches, or pretty much whatever you want.** I personally have only done what is called “stitch in the ditch” which is where you sew the quilt sandwich along the seam lines from sewing the squares together to make the quilt top so that the quilting isn’t visible on the quilt top, but you can make really pretty art with that. You can also hand quilt (aka hand sew the quilt sandwich together) or use yarn ties instead of sewing, but I haven’t tried either of those yet. The last step(s) are taking your quilted quilt sandwich and trimming the backing fabric and the quilt batting and adding a binding around the edges. You’ll either trim them exactly to match the top or a bit bigger depending on which binding method you want to use; I’ve only made self-binding quilts, where you leave the backing fabric a bit bigger than the quilt top, fold it up over the edges and sew it down to cover the edges of the quilt sandwich. The main other method (as far as I know) is sewing bias tape/contrast fabric around the edges, but I’m fuzzier about how to do that. All these instructions are about making a basic patchwork quilt with just squares sewn together for the quilt top, but as far as I know it’s pretty much the same method for other quilts. There’s just more steps because you have to make the blocks first instead of using premade squares, which can involve sewing together triangles or rectangles or all kinds of stuff. There’s a different method called paper piecing that’s more complex, but I think it's pretty much the same just more intricate? There are also quilt patterns that are essentially just one giant “block” instead of blocks sewn into rows and rows sewn together. Quilting can be as complex or as simple as you want it to be, and I gotta admit I like making the simple ones lol *this description leaves out, like, a LOT of ironing. There is so much ironing in quilting. Gotta iron at like every single step ** As far as I know, there’s no specialized quilting stitch. I just use a straight stitch for the entire quilt. By decorative stitch I meant like those stitch patterns on sewing machines that can make a row of cats or hearts or zigzags or whatever, but for sewing the quilt top together I’d just use the straight stitch.

#ask away!#long post #an explanation of quilting #quilting #to quilters: yes I know this is very much not a comprehensive explanation #to non quilters: there's a LOT more information on techniques like paper pieces and jelly rolls and seam allowances #and interfacing and batting materials and and and....#but like I think this explanation works for people who aren't looking to make quilts and just want to understand the process a bit #if you want to learn to actually quilt I can make another post with links and tag one of my mutuals #who is an amazing artist with quilting #I make like cozy basic quilts with fabrics I like that are like as simple as quilts can be #(I take advantage of the fact that pretty enough fabric can mean no one is looking at the pattern of the quilt lol)#but she makes quilts that are works of art #(I am not dissing my own creations she is just in an entirely different league of quilt making than I am and idk how else to word it)#(she's also been quilting a lot longer than I have and seems to enjoy those really complex patterns)

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dwellordream · 3 years

Text

dish duty

freeform for @wayhavensummer as I really wanted to write a water fight

T Rating (for passionate kissing and general tomfoolery) Felix x Detective Esme Kingston, 2000 words

“I wish you were a breakfast in bed kind of person,” Felix complains, though not very passionately, as he finishes what seems like his fourth stack of chocolate chip pancakes.

Esme considers herself a very controlled individual. She dresses neatly and conservatively, her home and office are impeccably organized, and she’s a vegetarian who eats, generally, a very healthy and balanced diet.

However. On the weekends, and especially with Felix’s recent influence, that goes somewhat out the window. Not all the way, but close enough to the edge. No, these are not organic whole wheat dark chocolate chip pancakes. They are the unhealthy kind chock full of additives and preservatives that children adore. But as Tina once said, everything we eat is bioengineered, right?

Felix doesn’t need to eat; well, he doesn’t need to eat a normal human’s diet, unhealthy or healthy, it doesn’t matter. But he likes to, and he has a keen sweet tooth. He claims his taste buds aren’t dulled compared to the rest of Unit Bravo because he was born as he is now, and so he has no memory or experience of eating food as a human to compare it with.

Nothing is lacking for him, because he never had it to begin with. And unlike Mason, ‘loud’ flavors or various textures don’t irk him, so Felix is pretty much willing to try anything, no matter how sweet, spicy, or sour. And especially if it involves chocolate.

“Breakfast in bed on a day like this is a terrible idea,” Esme points out as she gets up to clear her small kitchen table.

It’s not as hot out as it was yesterday, but it’s already very warm for ten o’clock in the morning- they slept in embarrassingly late- and she can tell that by midday it will be unbearable, which is why they have plans to go to an art exhibit in the city.

Esme enjoys long drives and would rather wait out today in air conditioning than suffer through it in her sweltering flat. And Felix is always willing to go to just about anything; it’s all new to him, so why not?

Worst case scenario, he doesn’t like it, and even when Felix isn’t enjoying something, Esme still enjoys him, because rather than sulk or brood he simply strikes up a running commentary on what he thinks they should be doing instead.

Yes, sometimes it’s irritating, but often she has to fight to hide the smiles he strives to coax out of her. She once took him to a lecture at a university and halfway through had to stop looking at him because he found a way to make her grin with just his eyes- the rest of his face was totally stoic.

He worked her up so much she had to excuse herself to get a drink of water, just so she didn’t burst out laughing in the middle of the professor’s droning slide-show. Felix, of course, followed her out into the hall and cornered her in an alcove, where they were sharply reprimanded by a passing janitor a few minutes later, who mistook them for two wild students who couldn’t wait to get back to their dormitory.

A year ago, the thought of this encounter, and of a morning like today, eating syrupy pancakes and lounging around in her pyjamas this late in the day, would have horrified and appalled Esme. But it is very hard to feel guilty or ashamed of anything that happens between her and Felix. Initially that frightened her, that being with him was so… easy. Nothing was ever supposed to be easy, or it wasn’t worth the effort. That had always been her motto.

But now…

“What are you doing?” she sighs, as she watches Felix stack far too many dishes on the palm of one hand, like a particularly adventurous waiter.

“Scoot,” he waves his free hand at her, showing off that he doesn’t even need both to hold them. “You’re in front of the sink.”

Esme shakes her head and steps aside as Felix deposits the rest of their dirty dishes inside the sudsy sink, which she’d just finished filling up with water.

This flat came with a small dishwater but it works terribly and Esme lived alone for so long and used so few dishes that it made more sense to just hand wash them immediately after eating. Felix thinks this is terribly boring but she refuses to have an insect infestation by leaving dirty dishes out for that long.

“I can wash them,” he says now, to her surprise. “You have to go get ready.”

“So do you,” she points out dryly. Yes, she feels oddly exposed in just a camisole and boy shorts, but he’s just in his boxers. She’s doing a very good job of not gawking at him like a schoolgirl.

Felix is not built the way Ava is, with powerful muscles and the stature of a workhorse or, as Mason would put it, a brick shithouse- but nor tall and willowy like Nat or lean and sinewed like Mason. Rather, he is toned and compact- she doesn’t know how else to describe it.

He’s a few inches taller than her, not much wider, and certainly isn’t bulging with muscles or in possession of washboard abs. But the sight of the smooth dark skin of his toned stomach and chest and the way he moves, almost like an acrobat, like he were ready to pitch forward into action at any moment, propelling himself with his arms or legs- gives her a strange combination of desire and envy. He would be an incredible gymnast and he is a beautiful dancer, moving gracefully to any rhythm without having ever heard it before.

In contrast, she feels thin and pallid and wretched- she’s petite and lacks much in the way of fat or muscle- she’s not athletic in the least, her belly forms a small pouch when she slouches, her skinny arms strain and tremble when she lugs heavy boxes of case files in and out of her office, she runs awkwardly and can’t dance to save her life, despite several years of ballet and a ballroom class in uni.

She’d like to be pragmatic and explain it’s just about feeling useful and capable of defending herself, but the truth is she’s vain and self conscious all at once. In her head, she is sleek and hard and beautiful, carved from crystal and not pasty flesh. Compared to Felix, she often feels like a melting snowman.

Felix is busy recounting her entire getting ready routine; Esme rolls her eyes and huffs but waits patiently until he’s done.

“Anyways, I just have to shower,” he shrugs.

“You’re my guest,” says Esme, “I’m not going to leave you to clean up while I powder my nose-,”

“I’m your guest?” he lays a hand on his chest in mock offense, and then his grin turns impish. “Your guest? That stings, Ez. Do all your guests come over late at night-,”

“Felix,” she warns, though her lips are twitching-

“And you sashay over the door and pull it open like, Hello, stranger-,”

“I didn’t say that!”

“No, it was cute!”

“It wasn’t supposed to be cute, you said you wanted me to surprise you, so-,”

“So I was very surprised,” he insists, and then catches her off guard by grabbing her by the hips and pulling her close.

Esme wriggles ineffectively- she’s not really trying to get away, which he knows- and then groans when he crushes her against his chest. He’s not a big man but he gives very big hugs, and she’d be lying if she said the weight and pressure wasn’t reassure, like a heavy quilt bundled around her. But… it’s hot. And he runs hot, too.

She says as much, into his chest, and then, to her alarm, hears him laugh, reach over, scoop up some soapy water with his hand, and drizzle it down her head.

Esme shrieks and rips away from him- Felix’s gold eyes are huge in his face, she can tell he’s torn between delight at his own daring and worry that he pushed her too far and she’s truly infuriated- but instead she touches at her damp hair in shock, then snatches up a wet rag from the counter and flings it at him. It hits him directly in the face; he yelps and bats it away, and she darts back, snickering.

“Oh, so you want a bath instead?” He raises his eyebrows at her.

“No, no, no,” Esme is saying, but the laughter leaking out between her protests says otherwise. “You started it-,”

“Yeah, so I’ll finish it. Come here, Ezza, let me wash you off- you have suds in your hair-,” he feints a lunge at her and she shrieks again, like a giddy teenager, then clamps her hand over her mouth, worrying the neighbors might hear.

Felix has no such concerns, and makes another grab for her- he secures her wrist and she slips on the tiled floor- he takes advantage of this to scoop her up, and flings her over his shoulder, which is barely broad enough for her thrashing torso to fit.

“Oh my God, what are you doing- Felix!” she shouts when he pins her there with one arm, grabs a cup with the other, and dumps water down her back. It’s barely cold but she yelps all the same- he sets her back down, triumphant that now her camisole is drenched and clinging to her, and she darts around him and hits him with a sponge, spraying more soap suds all over his bare chest.

“Wow,” he says. “Wow. That’s weak- that’s a really weak move, Detective, where is your tactical brilliance- okay, pretend I’m a Trapper, what do you do-,” he grabs at her arms to pin them but she successfully ducks out of his reach and hurls the sponge at him as he gives chase out of the kitchen.

“Don’t get water on the floors! I just mopped!”

“You’re the one who took it here!”

She leaps into the bathroom, breathless and trembling with adrenaline and laughter, and tries to slam the door shut in his face, but she never stood a chance of outrunning him- even if they were both human, she wouldn’t have. Still, she notes how careful he is, in the moment, not to crowd her in the confined space, worried about knocking her into the hard porcelain sink or toilet, and he waits until she steps back into the shower, cornered.

His hand hovers near the spout.

“Don’t you dare,” Esme warns.

He turns it on, and cold water cascades down full force onto her, soaking her to the skin. But before she can even flail or sputter, he’s stepped in beside her, wrapping himself around her, the contrast of his warm skin and the cold water making her cling to him all the more.

He kisses her lips, and she tastes soap for an instant, making her grimace, but then he’s moved onto her neck, lips tugging and pulling at the skin there, and she digs her fingers into his shoulder blades as she kisses his jaw in return, dragging her teeth across the corner of his lips.

When he heaves her up so he is half holding her, one hand under her thigh, the other leg stationary, she surges against him until his back is against the tiled wall and they are both directly under the flow of water. Then she gropes at the dial and shuts it off; it extinguishes to a trickle, causing beads to flow down their upturned faces.

She’s panting- he’s not as breathless, but jittery and shivering all over, and not from the cold water.

“Felix,” Esme whispers, and pecks him on the lips again as he reluctantly releases her.

“Yeah?” His pupils are languidly dilating, like a golden bloom.

“You did say you would do the dishes…”

He heaves with silent laughter, and then mouths something at the ceiling. “You’re killing me.”

“I know,” she smiles. “But you started it.”

Out of kindness, she takes a very quick cold shower, so she can help him dry off, too.

#felix hauville #esme kingston #wayhaven summer #the wayhaven chronicles #one shot

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romeoandjulietyouwish · 3 years

Text

how long will we silently suffer alone

Summary: Percy accidentally triggers Vex so she runs to the only people she knows can help: Zahra and Kashaw.

TW: Past non-con, panic attack

Read on ao3 (2.8k)

“Darling?” Vex asks, leaning against the door to Percy’s workshop. “Are you busy?”

She twists a strand of hair around her finger as Percy turns around on his chair to look at her. His face immediately goes bright red. She’s hardly wearing anything: a body skimming white dress and a soft sweater hanging off her shoulder.

She sees him visibly swallow, eyes darting all over her body before he meets her eyes again. “I-I don’t think so.”

Vex smirks, “Then what are you doing all the way over there?” She bats her eyes innocently, completely aware of what she’s doing to him. Percy jumps to his feet and makes his way over to her in three long strides. “Eager?” She teases, drawing him in by the collar of his shirt.

Percy laughs a little and instead of responding, his hands drop to her waist and he pulls her flush against him, bringing their lips together in a hot kiss. Vex smiles against his lips, winding her hands through his hair in the way she knows he loves.

Percy pulls her more into the workshop, giving enough space for the door to close behind them. With her eyes closed, Vex can’t see where Percy’s moving her until her back hits the wall. She laughs a little at his enthusiasm, but quickly soothes any hurt feelings by kissing a trail down his neck. As she does, Percy quickly rids her of the sweater and presses her even firmer against the wall.

The stone walls are cold against Vex’s back, but she pays it no mind as Percy kisses her again, hands wandering up and down her body. He presses his thigh between her legs and suddenly everything shifts.

The way Percy is pressing her into the wall is no longer sexy, but oppressive. She’s very aware of the heavy door shut behind them and the sound proof walls that surround them. She’s even more aware of the sick feeling under her skin as Percy’s lips trail down her neck and his hands skim her hips.

“Stop,” Vex chokes out, barely able to breathe. Percy immediately steps back and looks at her with a frown of concern. But she doesn’t take time to think about that because the second she’s free, she bolts out of the workshop.

Vex runs through the halls of the castle, blood rushing into her ears and her heart pounding far too loud around her. There are hands on her chest and her legs and her neck and she feels like she might throw up and she can’t breathe. Vex’s feet pound against the stone floor and without a second of hesitation she runs right out of the castle. She’s aware enough to take the back way out, it won’t do any good for the citizens to see Lady Vex’ahlia running through the streets wearing almost nothing.

Her feet pound on the familiar dirt road that leads towards the edges of the city. She lets muscle memory carry her, unable to think of anything other than the hands all over her and the hot lips on her skin. There are hands tight on her wrists and legs and everytime she closes her eyes she sees cold eyes and a devilish smile.

Vex blinks and finds herself standing in front of a cottage. It’s two stories with yellow stone bricks and vines crawling up the walls. Vex runs up to the door and raps on it three times, before stepping back, arms wrapping around her stomach.

The door opens almost immediately as Vex sees Kashaw on the other side. His long hair is tied back in a loose bun and he wears a loose shirt with a light green jacket over it. He smiles at her and looks as though he’s able to say something, but then he takes in her appearance. She’s wearing barely anything, shaking like a leaf, breathing far too heavily, with dirt all up her legs.

Kash sheds his coat and quickly wraps it around Vex’s shoulders. “What’s going on?” Vex shakes her head, unable to say anything as she digs her fingers into her sides.

“Kash?” Zahra calls from inside. “Who is it?” A second later, the red skinned tiefling appears in the doorway over Kashaw’s shoulder. Vex nearly bursts into tears at the sight of her friend. It’s then that her knees start to give out. “Vex!” Zahra exclaims as she rushes forward and hooks an arm around Vex’s waist to keep her up right.

Vex clings to Zahra’s shirt and looks her in the eyes, “H-Hands. Zee, I…” Vex cuts herself off with a sob as breathing suddenly becomes nearly impossible.

“Kash, help me get her inside,” Zahra orders. Kashaw nods and hurries forward, wrapping his arm around her waist as well.

Panic builds in her chest at the feeling of Kashaw’s hand on her side. It feels all too much like the hands that squeeze to hips and thighs and caress her cheek, whispering cruel praise in her ear.

Together the two of them all but carry Vex into the cottage and set her gently on the couch. Zahra sits beside Vex, letting the half-elf rest on her shoulder as she cries and gasps for air, eyes squeezed shut in fear.

“I’ve got you, Vex,” Zahra tells her. “Is this the…” She glances over at Kashaw who’s hovering nervously near them. “The thing you asked me to never mention again?” Vex nods and she feels tension seep into Zahra’s arms. “Okay. We’re going to get through this okay, do you want Kash to leave?” Vex nods immediately and curls deeper into Zahra’s arms.

“Kashaw, darling,” Zahra says, “tell Percy that Vex is alright?” Kash nods stiffly and leaves quietly, the door shutting behind him. “It’s just the two of us now. You’re alright,” Zahra assures her. “It’s okay. You just need to breathe.”

“Hands,” Vex tells her again. “Zahra-”

“Shh…” Zahra rocks her gently as the sobbing starts again. “I’ve got you. Are my hands bothering you? Do you want me to stop touching you?” Vex immediately shakes her head, that’s the last thing she needs. “Okay.” Zahra thinks for a moment. “Are they real hands?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Vex tells her, breath hitching.

“It’s alright.” Zahra lifts a hand to her cheek and wipes away some of her tears. “Take a deep breath in,” Zahra tells her. Vex does her best, her lungs only allowing a small bit of air to enter. “And out. Again.” Zahra squeezes her hand and takes a deep breath in to guide Vex. A soft whimper escapes Vex as she tries to breathe but can’t. Zahra reassures her instantly, “It’s okay, I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Just focus on me and try to breathe.”

Vex tries her best to follow Zahra’s instructions. It takes a long while for Vex’s breathing to return to normal and for the hands to slowly fade away, leaving Vex exhausted and collapsed against Zahra’s chest.

After some time being cradled in Zahra’s arms, the tiefling gently running her fingers through her hair, the door opens again and Kashaw quietly returns with a basket of food and a pair of Vex’s boots. “Kash is back,” Zahra tells her. “Do you want him to leave?”

Vex shakes her head and looks up at the paladin, “Stay.” Kashaw nods with a small smile. He saved her life. He won’t hurt her. Zahra won’t let him.

Kashaw sits on the couch next to Vex’s feet. “Percy wanted me to bring you shoes for the walk home tomorrow. I told him you’re staying the night with us.”

“Are you sure?” Vex looks at Zahra.

Zahra smiles, “You’re sorely mistaken if you think I’m letting you leave this house tonight.” Vex smiles and kisses Zahra’s cheek. Zahra looks at her husband, “Where’d the food come from?”

“I coerced Percy into giving us some food to make dinner.” Kashaw pats Vex’s foot. “Your husband keeps quite the stock of food.”

“Wish I could say the same about mine,” Zahra teases as Vex laughs and Kash rolls his eyes. “Now about that dinner…?”

Kashaw rolls his eyes, “Yes, I’ll cook.” As he walks past the two of them curled up, he presses a quick kiss to Zahra’s head.

“See, you can be sweet,” Vex teases. Kashaw flips her the finger as he walks into the kitchen.

Now that the two women are alone again, Vex tugs Kash’s jacket tighter around herself, slipping her arms through the sleeves. Zahra strokes Vex’s hair, brushing it back. “How do you feel?”

Vex huffs, “Like I just ran a thousand miles.”

“Vex, does Percy know about…?” She trails off, her meaning clear.

Vex ducks her head in shame and shakes her head. Zahra fixes her with a look. “I know, Zee. I just...I hoped it would never be relevant. I don’t want him to get overprotective or coddle me like…” Like Vax.

Zahra sighs, “Has this ever happened before?”

Vex shakes her head, “Not since we first got together.” Vex leans back into Zahra’s arms and nestles against the tiefling’s chest. Zahra hugs her back. “I’ll tell him when I go back tomorrow.”

After a moment, Zahra asks, “Vex, did Percy do...something to trigger you.”

“Not intentionally,” Vex tells her. “He stopped when I told him too.” Zahra hums thoughtfully and combs her fingers through Vex’s hair.

Dinner is casual, they eat on the couch, Vex still tucked into Zahra’s side and she rests her feet on Kashaw’s lap. Despite his initial protests, after a while he actually rubs her ankles.

That night, Vex settles down on their couch, allowing Zahra to tuck her under two heavy quilts. “It gets rather cold in here at night,” Zahra tells her. It took a while to convince her friend that she would be fine sleeping by herself in the living room.

Zahra presses a kiss to her head, “Sleep well, darling.”

Vex looks over Zahra’s shoulder to Kashaw. She gives him a questioning look with a smirk. Kashaw glares at her, “I’m not kissing you. Go to sleep.”

Vex laughs, “Love you too, Kash.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kashaw says as he turns and walks into the bedroom.

Zahra shakes her head fondly and looks back down at Vex. “He does love you.”

Vex smiles, “I know. Goodnight, Zahra.”

A little while later when Vex is trying to sleep, she hears Zahra and Kashaw talking in their bedroom.

“How was Percy?”

She hears Kash sigh. “About three seconds away from locking himself into his workshop.” There’s a long pause. “Zee, what happened to her?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Zahra tells him. “There are two people who know what happened: me and her brother.” Vex squeezes her eyes shut at the mention of Vax. “She’ll tell you if she wants you to know.”

“Will she be okay?” Vex is surprised by the tone in Kashaw’s voice. It’s softer than normal and almost...familial.

“I have every faith that she will be.”

Vex smiles a little at that and nestles under the blankets.

In the morning, Vex eats breakfast with Zahra and Kashaw before they send her on her way back to the castle, Zahra with a kiss on the forehead and a huge hug and Kashaw with a somewhat awkward side hug.

The walk back through the forest takes less than fifteen minutes and the entire time Vex tries not to panic. She has to tell Percy the truth, there’s nothing else she can do. Dread sinks in her stomach. To tell him she has to say what happened out loud. And she has to pray that he doesn’t get upset with her for not telling him sooner.

Since it’s so early in the morning, Vex knows she’ll find Percy in their bedroom. She makes her way quietly up the stairs, eyes of servants following her as she’s wearing clothes that clearly aren’t her own. Zahra had dressed her this morning in a soft pair of pants and a rust colored sweater. When she comes to their bedroom door, Vex takes a slow breath before lifting her hand and knocking softly.

There’s a few beats and then it swings open.

On the other side is Percy, dark circles under his eyes, skin paler than usual, and his hair is a mess. When he sees her, his posture simultaneously goes rigged and relaxed. “Vex,” he breathes. “Are you...Are you alright?”

Vex nods, “I think we need to talk.”

“Yeah, of course.” He steps aside to let her in.

The silence between them as she sits on the edge of the bed is awkward. It’s never awkward between them.

It’s Percy that breaks the silence, still standing in the middle of the room. “Did I hurt you? Is that why…?”

Vex shakes her head and pats the spot next to her on the bed. She takes a deep breath, “I need to tell you something and I don’t think that I can look at you while I do it.” Percy sits beside her, leaving almost a foot between them. Vex pretends that the distance doesn't break her heart. “Everyone in Syngorn hated Vax and I so when this boy from one of my classes asked me out of course I said yes,” Vex begins. “I thought that he cared about me or that he was interested in me in a way no one had ever been before.”

She looks down at her hands, tears building in her eyes. “We met up in his back garden and he was giving me a tour of everything and it was so windy and confusing that I almost immediately got lost.” She sniffs back her tears. “Anyways, um, he took my hand and led me to this shed in the middle with grey stone walls. And-And he pushed me up against it and kissed me.” Vex sniffs as tears fill her eyes. “I thought he liked me, I didn’t know…” Vex takes a deep breath, not chancing looking at Percy before she continues. “He threw me down to the ground and started to take off my clothes,” Vex can barely speak now as she starts to cry. She tries to say something, but finds she can’t, her throat is tight with tears.

She can feel Percy almost shaking with anger beside her. “Did he…?” Hurt you? Rape you? She nods, either way the answer is yes. “Is he alive?” Percy asks, his voice venomous with barely restrained anger.

She shakes her head, “Vax stabbed that asshole in the neck, left him to bleed out in the middle of the street.” Vex looks over at Percy and sees that though his hands are shaking, his eyes are almost unbearably soft and concerned. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you-”

“You don’t need to be,” Percy shakes his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong by not telling me.” He gives her a slight smile before sighing and asking, “Vex, can I touch you? I really want to give you a hug right now.”

Instead of responding, she looks over at him, nearly sobbing again when she sees the look on his face, and presses herself into his arms. Percy’s arms are fiercely tight around her in the best way possible. She tucks her head to his chest and lets him hold her, kiss her forehead and hair. It feels as though she exhales for the first time in years.

“I’m sorry that that happened to you,” Percy tells her, cheek pressed to her hair. “I always want you to feel safe with me and I’m sorry that I didn’t yesterday. Do you know what triggered it last night?”

Vex lifts her head, “A combination of things. A perfect storm.”

Percy nods thoughtfully. “Okay, okay. How can I help you if that happens again?”

“What you did was perfect,” she tells him, hand on the side of his neck. “You stopped when I told you to. I’ll try not to run away next time. That doesn’t happen much, hardly ever. But um, when it does I probably won’t be able to talk much or tell you what to do. I don’t want you to coddle me, though.”

“Of course not,” Percy assures her. He pulls her in to kiss softly. “I’ll figure it out, I promise. I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone anymore.”

Vex looks up at him with teary eyes, “Thank you.”

He smiles gently and squeezes her hand, “You don’t have to thank me. We promised each other a long time ago that we’d take care of each other and love each other for the rest of our lives. This is just another part of that vow.”

Vex’s eyes squint as she fights back tears once again. Before she cries again, she hugs Percival, pressing a kiss to his cheek before resting her cheek on his shoulder. “I love you so fucking much,” she whispers.

#my fic #vex'ahlia #percy de rolo #perc'ahlia #perc'ahlia fic #percahlia #critical role fic #vox machina fic #zahra hydris #kashaw vesh

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wafflepatterns · 3 years

Photo

Padded version of Yuzu coat

I have made two padded jackets using my existing patterns for this winter. Here is the 2nd experiment; Puffy padded version of Yuzu coat. (Please see here for the 1st version with Cookie blouson pattern). I really love the result and am sharing here how I made it. I hope it will be a tip/reference for people who want to make one, too. It is not really a down jacket with real feather, but I made it with a normal house sewing machine with batting materials.

I used Yuzu coat pattern. Normally, double-breasted design is not suitable for very thick materials like batting/quilted fabrics. But I see many double-breasted padded jackets on high street fashion and they all look so cute. So I decided to try it.

I did not really change the pattern. Just shortened the front part of the high neck collar. Because this thick fabric with this high neck design gives me an uneasy feeling around my face. The cut is similar to the front part of this hood pattern.

This pattern is very roomy, so I used my usual size without alterations. But depending on materials or how to wear, using one size larger might be an option.

For other small adjustments, I added an inside pocket and knit cuffs for extra warmth.

This shell fabric is corduroy. First I was searching for faux leather or wool twill, but when I saw this one at the store, I decided to use it immediately. This corduroy has a very soft touch and I really love the rich shade.

I considered the water/windproof fabric will be a very functional option, but I still am too chicken to use them. Also, I could not find a nice one.

For the batting, I used about 20mm thick for the bodice, sleeve and collar parts and 12mm thick for the small parts like pocket welt pieces. I did not use it on the facing parts.

The sewing process is basically the same as the original one. Just add the batting as an interlining to the shell and topstitch. (I explained this step in another post. Please refer to that.)

As for the hem finish, since it is difficult to iron and crease the fabric after interlined with the batting, I pressed and creased all the hem before the interlining process. Then cut and omit the batting on the hem allowance.

Many store-bought padded jackets use hem finish with the lining edge to edge or shell + facing + lining instead of the folded hem finish. I think it is because they are using mainly water/windproof fabric and those cannot be ironed or creased. Also, the hem + facing finish is suitable for making a string casing. I want to use this faced hem detail when I will make a more functional/outdoor style one.

As for the knitted cuffs, I used the same way as the Tsubaki coat. It is constructed from shell + facing + knit + lining from outside to inside.

For flattening and shaping the edge, I used edge stitching a lot. The seam allowances of the edges of the collar and front center are turned to the facing side and edge-stitched. I like it more than topstitching because it emphasizes the puffy effect. Topstitching will be more suitable and functional for sporty items.

The front fastenings are fabric-covered snap fasteners and buttons. I wanted to add a bit lux touch to this silky corduroy. I was planning to use metal snap fasteners or magnet type. But it seems too heavy for this fabric and I could not find suitable design ones.

I used the lining fabric for covering the snaps and the self fabric for the front side. But there are ready-made covered snaps available on the market. I am very much satisfied with this result. They suit this padded corduroy better than I expected.

Other small points/tips are the same as the padded Cookie blouson. Please refer to it.

It was a time-consuming project but I am really like the result! Also, challenging projects cheered me up under this unusual circumstance in lockdown.

I hope this post will be a small help for people who also want to make a winter coat. If you plan to make a padded coat, I strongly recommend experimenting with your materials well. Please consider choosing the right and suitable pattern/size or finishing treatment with your materials and design intentions. Also, I recommend researching store made ones which have a similar design to your idea.

You can find the sewing pattern of the Yuzu coat pattern here.

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#sewing #sewing patterns #tutorials #tutorial #other tips #wafflepatterns #Yuzu #winter coat

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quicksilversquared · 3 years

Text

Move to Safety: Chapter 4 (of 6)

After Adrien just happens to spy Nooroo in his father’s office, he’s sent into an panic. His father is Hawkmoth, which means that Adrien is in serious danger.

Thankfully the Dupain-Chengs are more than willing to step up to the plate and lend a helping hand.

links in the reblog

"Ooh, I like this one!"

Marinette laughed when she spotted the bolt that Adrien was holding up. He had gotten back to the house after the mural dedication, they had gotten a bite to eat, and then the two of them had headed out to the fabric store for a bit of a distraction. It hadn't taken long for the two of them to get neck-deep in fabric. "Kitty paws? Why am I not surprised?"

"It's Chat Noir fabric!" Adrien glanced at the label, unsurprised to see that the neon-green cat paws on a black background were, in fact, designed to invoke Chat Noir. Thankfully, there wasn't a corresponding price mark-up on it. "You said that you needed black, right?"

"I do, yeah." Marinette stepped closer, inspecting the fabric. There was a small frown on her face. "The only problem is that it's a pretty prominent pattern and it's usually a better idea to not have the background fabrics be quite so, uh..."

Adrien glanced at the pattern in her hand, then back at the fabric. He could see what she was saying. "Oh. Darn."

"We could use it as the backing fabric, though!" Marinette said quickly. Then she spotted something else in the rack of fabric bolts and grinned, ducking down and reaching way back to grab another bolt and wriggle it out. "Though here's another option that I suspect you might like."

She pulled out anther bolt, and oh, he should have suspected that there would be a Ladybug fabric as well. It had a black background like the Chat Noir one, with little ladybugs scattered across the fabric, small pink and red flecks between them.

...he really liked that one, too.

Adrien dithered between the two choices, honestly torn. He loved the thought of being wrapped up in his Lady's colors, but he also really, really liked the Chat Noir fabric. It was a nod to his role in protecting Paris, and once his father was defeated, it wouldn't be overly dangerous to have superhero references around him.

Not that it was super suspicious at the moment, really- after all, all of Paris loved the superheroes- but everything would be safer with their supervillains gone, and it wouldn't have been smart to do anything to make his father suspicious even if he hadn't been Hawkmoth.

"Actually, I could do large patchwork blocks of both of them on the back," Marinette said while Adrien was still deliberating. "Like a checkerboard."

Adrien perked up. "Ooh, yes, please!"

The front of the quilt was going to be mostly blues and greens and black, and Adrien had plenty of fun picking through the racks to find something that stuck out to him. Subtle patterns were better for not overwhelming the overall design, and he wanted this to be a quilt that he would be happy with for years to come. It took longer than he had anticipated to make his choices, though Marinette didn't seem at all surprised by that as she wheeled their cart to the cutting counter and took a ticket.

"We're not going to get any studying done today, are we?" Adrien asked with a laugh as they lingered near the counter, keeping one eye on the ticket number being served. "Or at least I'm not, what with the dedication this morning and then this now."

"We'll have some time this afternoon and then this evening!" Marinette protested with a little laugh. "And all of tomorrow. Maybe we should have waited on the fabric errand a bit, but I thought it would be relaxing."

"And better now than after, y'know, the arrest," Adrien said, dropping his voice to a murmur on his last couple words. "I probably won't be able to go out as myself unless I want to get mobbed."

Marinette stiffened. "If people dare go after you-"

"I was thinking reporters, mostly." It was inevitable, really. They would want to know if he had known, if he was surprised, what he would do now. "Hopefully I'll get cleared pretty early on."

"If the superheroes tell the police that it was Adrien who told them who Hawkmoth was, I think they wouldn't question you that much," Marinette murmured, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough that the other customers nearby wouldn't hear them. "You wouldn't tell on him if you were working with him, obviously, so if they knew that you were the whistleblower..."

Adrien nodded. That made sense, and while he didn't know if he necessarily wanted that to become public knowledge- there would probably be people who would scoff at him turning his father into the police and wonder if he had no loyalty if even family bonds meant nothing to him, never mind the whole supervillain angle- letting the police at least know would probably save him a world of trouble.

"I'm looking forward to not having to sneak in and out of your house," Adrien said instead of continuing that conversation. This wasn't the best place for it, anyway. "Especially the sneaking out. I hate having to climb over you in the mornings."

"You've been great at sneaking out," Marinette assured him quickly, flashing him a smile. "I haven't been woken up at all! Quiet as a cat."

Adrien laughed at that. "Thanks, I try. But it's more of a- it just feels creepy to climb over you when you're still asleep. Like, I'm going into your bedroom while you're asleep and climbing up to your bed and it's just- like, I know that we're comfortable with each other now, but..."

"I know that you're there, though. It's not like you don't have permission." Marinette bumped his side gently. "Honestly, it's fine. As long as you don't take any pictures of me drooling in my sleep, you're good."

"You don't drool," Adrien blurted before he could stop himself. "I mean, not that I look- I try not to, but I have to make sure that I don't step on you, so I guess I do kind of look- but you do sprawl out like a starfish when you sleep and it's cute and oh my god I'm going to stop talking now."

Marinette was giggling. "It's fine!"

"Stupid runaway mouth," Adrien grumbled, trying not to hunch his shoulders and hide behind Marinette when a couple women glanced over at them. "Sorry. I promise that I'm not trying to be a creep."

"Like I said, it's fine." Their number was called, and Marinette led the way to the cutting counter, placing the bolts of fabric that they had selected up on the counter and listing off how much she needed of each. "We could have tried to find a different window, I suppose, or- or something. I just thought that the balcony would look less weird."

Adrien decided to just nod at that point. He had an inkling that opening his mouth again would just result in more embarrassment on his end.

It didn't take long to get all of the fabric cut, and then Marinette took a quick detour through the quilting section to pick up batting, thread, and a couple other supplies before heading to the checkout. As the stuff was for the quilt was rung up, Adrien couldn't help but wince.

He had known that quilts took forever and a half to make, but he hadn't known how freaking expensive they were to make. Adrien opened his mouth to offer to pay for the materials, but a sharp look from Marinette had him closing his mouth just as quickly.

He would just have to get her some really, really nice presents for her birthday and Christmas, then.

...would it be excessive to compose Marinette a song on the piano to express his appreciation on top of whatever he bought for her? After all, she was going to be putting hours and hours into the quilt, and composing something on the piano... well, that was the closest that he was going to get to putting in a similar amount of effort.

"I can't wait to get into this fabric," Marinette said happily as they exited the store. Adrien had managed to snag the bulkiest of the bags to carry, figuring that that was probably as much as she would allow him to do. "I've only made a couple quilts before, mostly lap ones, and it was so much fun. And the pattern that you picked out looked really interesting, too."

"Ah-ah-ah, no sewing until exams are done," Adrien chided. He grinned. "See, I thought I remembered someone swearing that having the fabric in the house wouldn't be a distraction."

Marinette groaned. "I could do it as a study break! I've done that before, I just set up a timer so that I don't accidentally spend too much time sewing."

Adrien glanced over at her as they walked. "Is that really a good break, though? I've always been taught that I should get up and move around and maybe get a snack or something during study breaks so that I'm not still hunching over or focusing on anything. I'm just watching out for your health, Mari!" he added when Marinette groaned. "Seriously, let the quilt wait! Then you can go absolutely wild with it once exams are over."

Marinette dithered, then frowned. "Fine."

The bakery wasn't a super-far walk from the fabric store, so Adrien took the opportunity to enjoy the just-warm-enough weather, turning his face up to the sun to bask in the warmth. If his father were here, he would probably be scolding Adrien for not having put sunscreen on first so that there wouldn't be any chance of him getting any sort of sunburn.

Adrien pushed that thought out of his head. His father wasn't here, and he was going to be in jail soon enough that Adrien's complexion would no longer be any of his concern.

"Aha, I sense an incoming project," Mrs. Cheng commented as soon as the two of them reached the bakery and stepped inside. It was late enough in the day that the crowds had subsided, with only a few people milling around to pick out what they wanted. "New quilt?"

"Adrien insists that I wait to start it until after exams are over," Marinette told her mom in her best long-suffering voice. "Something about not distracting myself from studying and not being all hunched over fabric during study breaks."

"Aha, someone who has some sense," Mrs. Cheng said with a laugh, beaming at Adrien. "We've been trying to keep her from bouncing back and forth between studying and sewing for ages. You'll have to keep an eye on this one."

"Maman!" Marinette groaned, just as Adrien said, "I will."

"Oh, not you, too," Marinette complained. "I can self-regulate!"

Mrs. Cheng laughed. "Dear, we had to go out and buy creams for you to put on your back when it hurts too much from you hunching over. And then when you went to that chiropractor, she said that you need to work on straightening up and stretching on a regular basis when you're working on homework or sewing. I'm thinking that your self-regulation could use some work."

Marinette just groaned some more and headed for the door to the apartment. Adrien laughed and followed her, giving a cheery wave good-bye to Mrs. Cheng as he left. She beamed at him before turning back to her customers, greeting the next person in line cheerily.

"Not to pile on or anything, but right before exams doesn't seem like a great time to risk back problems flaring up," Adrien commented as he caught up to Marinette on the stairs. "Seriously, it can wait. Think of the quilt project as a reward that you'll get at the end of the week!"

Marinette flashed a smile back at him. "I know. It'll be something to look forward to. We... i mean, we'll probably want a distraction by then, too."

Adrien tilted his head to one side, momentarily puzzled, and then it hit him. Right. His father would be returning from his summer fashion preparations at the end of the week, coinciding with the end of their exam week. That was when he and Ladybug were planning on attacking his father- well, depending on when Mr. Agreste decided to send out an akuma, at least.

Funny that he had managed to forget about that when he and Ladybug had literally just been discussing it. Clearly the errand to the fabric store with Marinette had been a good distractor.

Honestly, the company had probably had a lot to do with it.

"Yeah, a distraction then sounds good," Adrien agreed, smiling back at her. "But for now, let's get the bags put away and get some studying done."

Exam week arrived too fast, just like it always did. Everyone- or almost everyone, at least, there were always some exceptions- was serious, hunched over books and notebooks or quizzing each other between classes.

Most years, Adrien would have spent most of his time out of school with a personal tutor hired to help him study, with a personally customized study plan based off of his strengths and weaknesses. This year, though, Adrien had managed to persuade Nathalie that it was unneeded, and that he had learned enough about study skills and how to figure out his weak areas that he didn't need a tutor this year. In fact, he had argued, having to create his own study plan could be beneficial. He would have to be more involved and that could mean that he remembered the lessons better.

Nathalie hadn't been entirely convinced, of course, but she had agreed to let him try it this one time. If his grades slipped from what they had been in the past, though, she had warned, he would be getting tutors for all future exams and there would be more summer tutoring than before.

It had been a pretty motivating threat, at least before Adrien discovered his father's secret and, by extension, Nathalie's. Now, unless Adrien decided that he actually wanted a tutor, there wouldn't be any more.

That was fine. There wouldn't be any more akuma attacks disrupting his classes, either, so Adrien figured that it would all even out. Besides, it had been easier to study when he was in Marinette's house, for some reason. Maybe it was because he wasn't antsy and on edge all of the time. They kept him busy and distracted when he wasn't studying, which kept Adrien from getting caught up in his own worries about what would happen once his father returned.

A couple times, Adrien had fallen asleep next to Marinette on her floor while studying. It had been comfortable and they had woken up in a tangle of limbs. It could have been a bit awkward, honestly, but somehow it wasn't. They were comfortable enough with each other now that it was just something that they did.

And then exams were over, and Mr. Agreste returned to the city. Adrien was half-convinced that his father would notice that something was off, but Mr. Agreste just made a brief appearance to inquire how Adrien's exams had gone, then retreated to his office to keep working.

Honestly, that was just the way Adrien liked it, particularly now that he knew his father's secret. The more distance between them, the better.

Nathalie dropped off Adrien's schedule for the start of summer, then headed out the door for her four days of vacation and general unwinding. Adrien watched her go, then immediately headed over to the Dupain-Cheng house to keep Marinette company and help her cut out the hundreds of pieces for his quilt.

And with that, the countdown was on. Ladybug had distributed the Horse to Seabiscut and the Bee to Hornet, and she had decided to use the Snake herself during their final battle. Adrien was rather relieved about that, honestly, since he was likely to be at little emotionally compromised during the battle and it was one less thing for him to have to remember to bring. His role was to-

Was to-

Well, to provide backup where needed. To join Ladybug to take down the final akuma, after Hawkmoth was defeated. To help keep the arrest under wraps, since Nathalie would still need to be captured and they didn't want to tip her off ahead of time, in case she was keeping her Miraculous on her.

It didn't sound like a whole lot, if he was being honest, but then again, the takedown was planned to be simple and straightforward. There wouldn't be a whole lot to do, not if things went to plan. And with the Snake in action, things should go to plan.

It didn't take long for Adrien's attention to wander while he watched Marinette pin and sew, so he headed downstairs to help out in the bakery. Mr. Dupain seemed to know without asking that Adrien needed a distraction, so he herded Adrien over to the sink to wash his hands, then started teaching him how to do different jobs. The croissant roller was easy enough to operate and hard to mess up, and of course it was hard to mess up loading the dishwashers. He didn't get to do any actual mixing of ingredients, because it would be too easy for him to mess up if he got distracted by his thoughts (or had to leave because of an akuma attack), but Mr. Dupain had promised that he would teach Adrien how to bake- abet in smaller batches first- once things were more settled.

Adrien was looking forward to it, though he couldn't deny that it was a bit intimidating. He hadn't done a ton of cooking- he helped with prep, sure, but not cooking by himself- and baking just seemed even more complicated. There were more things that could go wrong, Adrien was pretty sure, what with the yeast and rising and trying to bake all the way through and not overbaking and-

Well, it was a delicate process, that was for sure, and not something that Adrien wanted to be learning about when he was on edge waiting for an akuma attack.

Thankfully the wait wasn't too long. Two days after Mr. Agreste returned to Paris, an akuma alert lit up Adrien's phone. He muted it, suddenly feeling ill and regretting the sandwich that he had just eaten for lunch.

This was it. It was actually happening.

Adrien had spent the past week- longer, really- trying to ignore what Hawkmoth's defeat would entail. But that time was past now, and part of Adrien- the part that hated change, that didn't want to give up on the last bit of his family (his aunt and cousin, of course, not included)- wanted to put it off, even if the rest of him just wanted the whole Hawkmoth thing to be over with. There was a lot of mixed feelings there, and Adrien know how he was even supposed to start sorting them out.

Adrien's racing thoughts were promptly cut off by a tight hug.

"You'll be okay," Marinette promised, resting her head against his shoulder. "We're here for you no matter what." She looked up at him, her chin resting on his collarbone. "And we can do whatever you want when you get back. If you want distractions, we can do distractions. If you want to cuddle and watch a movie and drink hot chocolate, we can do that."

Adrien swallowed hard, nodding. "Yeah." He hugged Marinette back, then pulled back, patting his pocket to make sure that his lucky charm from Marinette was still there. "Okay. I've got this."

"You do. And you have Ladybug and the rest of your team there for you, too." Marinette beamed at him. "You aren't alone."

"Okay." Somehow Marinette always knew just what to say. Adrien squared his shoulders, then flashed a smile- maybe a little weak around the edges, but still a smile- at her. "Plagg, transform me!"

With a flash of green, he was transformed. Chat Noir gave Marinette one more hug- for good luck, and to remind himself that he was still going to have a home and an amazing family even after his father was arrested- and then was off, heading for the abandoned building that Ladybug had picked out as their meeting point.

Soon it was all going to be over. He could only hope that he was actually ready.

#Miraculous Ladybug #my writing #Move to Safety

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