#and I think the new (to me) technique for cutting out fabric I figured out making that whale shark

[gaviicreates]

FO: time flies by in the yellow and green...

...Stick around and you'll see what I mean

(there will also be more pictures under the cut)

Remember literally yesterday when I mentioned I was doing a stretchy bind-off purlwise, and I loved the fluidity of it? Well, obviously a bind off pretty much heralds the end of a project in sight so here we are. I was so eager for this one to be completed that I lightly washed the shawl and pinned it overnight so that, by today, I'd have my first finished, knitted shawl.

Pattern: Mara Shawl by Madelinetosh, available here through Ravelry

Yarn: Arcane Fibre Works, "Calm Waters" -80/20 Extra Fine Merino Nylon Super Wash Fingering Weight. (2 Skeins)

Tools: Clover Takumi Bamboo Circulars - US 5 3.75mm, Eucalan Lavender Wash for blocking

This shawl is a garter stitch shawl with yarn overs down the center and sides to both increase and add a bit of lacy interest. I had actually started on this before I finished the throw blanket, so these two pieces together were so critical for my knitting journey thus far, and I've learned so much already.

While the throw maintained the upward structure of its rows, this shawl gave me the experience of increasing along the center and sides, working outward as well as up. Once I figured out the yarn-over and the cadence from row to row, the location of the yarn-overs was easy to remember. Simple, but elegant on the piece. It did take me a few rows in to figure out that a stitch marker for the RS vs WS would probably be helpful, and from there it was smooth sailing.

Almost too smooth, because I just kept going. I don't remember the cord size I used, but eventually working the stitches scrunched up on the needles, and the work curled into itself. Once that started, I had a hard time imagining what it would look like finished. I had no idea what the shaping would look like once it was off the needles, so my plan was to hope I just figured out when would be a good time to stop. Low stakes winging it, if you will.

She's big. This is no shawlette you behold. The length surpasses my wingspan on both sides, and the drape down the back is lovely and full while the fabric itself is light and breathable between the stitches. I think because the needles were a bit bigger than recommended size for fingering weight, this resulted in some space between the stitches.

I'm dreaming of that first cool day of fall, and wrapping myself up with her covering my shoulders pinned with a nice brooch, or rolled into a scarf around my neck over denim. She's going to be a wonderful addition to my wardrobe, and I am ecstatic with the final length and look.

I mentioned above I used two skeins. Another learning curve for me - one I intentionally played with here - was the way the colors fell. I don't think it's a crochet thing specifically because I know opinions still vary, but coming from a craft that tends to create potentially less ordered fabrics with variegated yarns, I'm kind of open to color pooling at times. It's not for everyone, but I think there's a fun little magic in letting the colors land the way they want to in both crafts it seems.

I started with one skein, then switched to alternating after a while to learn that technique, then ended with one skein again as I finished out the project. I was nervous about this choice, especially as I started seeing entire blocks of yellow forming. But in the final garment, I don't feel like these larger streaks take away from the color combination. I'm loving that it's not uniform and there's a bit of fun and randomness to how the colors fall.

Towards the final rows, the pattern switched from garter to 1x1, then 2x2 ribbing, which I could see being a great opportunity to switch out to another color to complement. But I really wanted to have my yellow and green shawl, so I decided to keep working up with the same yarn. Plus I am kind of in love with seeing how different stitches create a new texture that gives the colors in a variegated yarn a bit of a different life to them.

Now - I do have one more skein of this colorway, as I had bought a just-in-case extra. I am thinking my big shawl needs a little something else to go with it - maybe a hat or some fingerless gloves, oooh! or some socks.

Now, I have... how many more months till I can wear this?

[an-act-of-will]

Random tidbits of advice no one's asked for about writing but I've learned over the years

In no particular order:

Don't worry if your first draft is messy. That's what editing is for.

You won't learn anything from nitpicking the same story for years. End it and then edit.

Between edits, take a break of a specified time so the work can breathe. I do one to two months. You might need only a week or three days.

Don't be afraid to experiment, in your writing or routine. Stepping out of your comfort zone is the way to grow.

Don't worry if you can't pinpoint a precise 'routine.' I don't have one and I've written for almost a decade.

Let your characters speak, but don't let them monologue. You will need to play God to wrangle them into place. If you can't get them to behave, you might need to make a new character.

Don't delete anything permanently. If you really like a scene/chapter/character/whatever else, but it doesn't work in this story, put it in a separate document for future inspiration. You'll be surprised when you can re-use it with some tweaking.

Number your drafts. Please. Just do it.

Back up your work.

Back it up again.

Save your work before you close the program if it doesn't do it automatically. If it does, save anyway, then refer to previous two pieces of advice.

Don't be afraid to try silly writing 'hacks'- the 'writing in comic sans' one works well for me.

Get someone else to read your work and see where it needs some love. Prepare specific questions for them so they know what you want from them.

If you've been stuck for quite a while, the problem is in your last sentence. Don't delete it- I put it in brackets and move on as if it doesn't exist. You can also turn the text white on a computer, or cover it in a dark highlight color on the computer, or cover it with your hand if you're writing longhand.

If you write longhand, I salute you.

If you think the problem is in the last sentence, it might be the last scene. Do the bracket trick and move along.

Momentum is key. Don't stop to research when paper clips were invented (1867, for those wondering, by a gentleman named Samuel B. Fay. They were originally used to attach tickets to fabric.). If you know you need to research something later, put the item to be researched in brackets. Something like [CHECK DATE OF INVENTION OF PAPER CLIP]

Don't feel bad if you can't think of a specific or common word. I've forgotten the word 'lunch.' It happens. Put the approximate definition in brackets like [WORD FOR MIDDAY MEAL] (As you've noticed, I use a lot of brackets).

When it's time for editing, read through it first and take notes either on the manuscript or in the document. I color code mine, then include a key because I'm forgetful. For example, green is often a continuity error, red is something that can be cut, blue is where a scene can be added. I use changing the color of the text, highlights, and adding notes in my writing document.

Don't shell out money for expensive writing tools if you're not sure if you'll use it. Free word processors and office supply store notebooks are fine.

If you're well and truly stuck, move to the physical world and write longhand, even if you write digitally the other 99.99% of the time. I've found that it almost 'unlocks' parts of my brain that are understimulated.

If you do take the physical world approach, school notebooks and index cards are your friend. The notebooks are great for rambling and figuring things out, and index cards are amazing for writing short descriptions of scenes and physically moving them to see where they fit best.

If those don't work, you can always try the rubber duck technique I've heard coders use- use a rubber duck (or a stuffed animal, or a picture, or anything else) and talk your problem out. You'll probably see the solution once you articulate it. I use a wolf stuffed animal and record on my phone. You'll feel ridiculous, but it works.

Don't be afraid to feel ridiculous. It's a hobby that takes you down rabbit holes.

When I'm done with a chapter, I often use my text-to-speech function on my computer and listen to my story. It helps me catch typos that are other words. For example, 'bed' typed as 'bet' instead.

Your word processor isn't perfect. It will miss mistakes, and it might make new ones. To, too, and two and your and you're can be tricky for them.

Research your made-up names thoroughly to make sure they don't exist as other things.

If you have an idea unrelated to your current session, make note of it. You will forget it and you know you will.

Don't forget to take care of yourself- drink water, eat, and take breaks even if you're worried you'll break your groove. The words will still be there when you get back.

[sheliesshattered]

I've made some good progress on my Batuu vest sewing project in the last couple of days since I posted about finishing the Jyn Erso sweatshirt project. Like I mentioned in that post, working on the sweatshirt helped me realize that I needed to add fabric to the front shoulder of the vest rather than removing it. Once I got the shoulder seam sitting where I wanted it, the bust seam fit perfectly and didn't require any adjustments at all, woot.

With that and a few other small changes made to the lining, I went ahead and transferred all the changes to the paper pattern (including actually taping on extra paper to the front shoulder section) and then cut out the exterior fabric out of scraps of that same blue linen I used for the lining/mock-up.

All the work I did on fitting the lining and adjusting the paper pattern made the whole thing come together quickly and easily. I still had to do a slash-and-spread technique to ease the bust panels together, but it was sort of ridiculously easy compared to how much I struggled with that seam with the lining before realizing that the problem was with the markings on the pattern itself.

So now I've got two layers of the vest all sewn together, exterior on the left and interior lining on the right:

When they're layered together, the raw edges are all sandwiched between the exterior and the lining. This linen already has a good amount of body on its own, but layered together it's nearly as rigid as the duck cloth I made my original vest for The Moment out of. Which honestly I'm glad to see, since the torso section will be so fitted once the zipper is in, and actually under a bit of tension.

Last night while I was trying to fall asleep, I realized that any pockets I want to have in this vest need to be put in before I attach the exterior to the lining, so that the stitch lines don't show through. I haven't decided yet if I want to have any pockets visible from the outside (flaps or otherwise), but I knew I definitely wanted to have hidden interior pockets that I can access when the zipper is zipped all the way up (to mid-bust or so). This morning I measured and cut two little square pockets that live in the overbust area of the lining, below my collarbone but above the largest part of the bust -- visible on the right in the pic below where one of the front panels is opened up to show the lining:

I sized both pockets to fit my in-character pilot's license such that the license would stick out just a tiny amount (making it easier to retrieve without digging around in a too-deep pocket). My pilot's license is just slightly bigger than my real-world ID, so the pockets would also work for carrying practical items like ID, credit card, roomkey, etc. The pic below shows the pilot's license on the left and my driver's license on the right, with the lining turned completely inside out so that both pockets can be seen.

The next step, which I'm hoping to get to tonight, will be ironing all the new seams I've sewn in the last few days -- the pockets, the new shoulder panels in the lining, and all the seams in the exterior. While I'm at it, I want to cut out and iron a couple of pocket flap mock-ups so that I can pin the flaps to the outside and see if I like the look, and if so where I want the pockets to be.

The Moment vest has a pair of zipper pockets set on a diagonal, based on the screen-used vest Billy Piper wore in the Doctor Who 50th anniversary episode. Originally my plan for my Batuu outfit was to wear that vest as is, and then I started thinking about covering up the zippers (to follow the No Visible Closures In Star Wars rule) and figured I would just hand-sew some flaps over those zipper pockets.

But now that I'm doing the vest as a completely new scratch-build, I have the option to do whatever I want with the pockets. Pockets are lovely, but I do have the two interior pockets, my brown leather bag, and my belt (potentially with pouches) to help carry stuff around -- and even if I did have pockets on the lower torso of this vest, I probably wouldn't put much in there anyway, since the whole thing is so fitted.

I know for certain that I don't want to do patch pockets that stand away from the body of the vest, like the ones on Han Solo's vest. Side seam pockets are also out, because I think the tension of the fit would pull on those weird. Which leaves various types of welt pockets, with or without a flap, carefully angled so that tension doesn't make them pull and gap.

A lot of the vests in Star Wars have visible pockets, often multiple visible pockets, but those vests also tend to hang open rather than closed and snugly fitted. One exception that I've been looking to for inspiration is Bix Caleen from the Andor show on Disney+. She has a longer coat that's fitted through the torso with princess seams, just like my vest, and while it has pockets they're much lower down, on the hips. She also has something more properly called a vest, worn over a long-sleeved shirt, that is similarly fitted with princess seams -- and again, no visible exterior pockets at all.

The more I look at pictures of Bix, the more I'm leaning away from doing any sort of external pocket at all, and just stick with the two small internal pockets. I might need to do some top stitching along the seams to give it some visual texture (another thing that Bix's coat and vest both have), but that could be a good way to secure the lining to the exterior, too. Hmm. Definitely something I'll have to think on.

[k00297797]

DISRUPT PROJECT

New project based on the word DISRUPT. It took me a while to figure out what I wanted to do, but with the help of mindmaps I eventually stumbled on the idea of DISRUPTION OF THE SELF, asking questions like "what makes us ourselves?" our "how is our subconcious self connected to our bodies?" and how would disruption of one affect the other? So I signed up for the "soft sculpture" workshop at the start of the project, and I focused on the HEART.

I had taken pictures of a sheep heart and printed them out. I wanted to figure out the form of the heart and how the muscles connected to each other. I was particularly interested in the heartstrings as well.

I was interested in the different pieces of the heart first, which I think would make a a cool patchwork piece in the future. And then I was particularly interested in the soul, and how its connected to the heart. Are they connected to eachother? can they exist without each other? and is the soul the heart, or is it in the heart? if I "disrupt" the heart, will the soul come out?

For my main piece for the workshop, I sew together a heart cut open, and I wanted to create the soul coming out.

I played around with different materials and different techniques that would mimic the "starburst" of the soul. I used wire, painted wire, drawn on hot glue streaks, wool and shiny string and fabric.

[triguuuun]

Here are some process pictures! I can only include so many and these felt like the only ones worth showing

I started with a paper figure to try and figure out the layers and how many pieces I would need and then did the good classic wrap yourself in seran wrap and tape and draw out ur pattern then cut it off your body technique which you shouldn’t do alone because it’s really really hard and time consuming and then created a test outfit with some red cotton

I sewed the skirt panels to a belt for quick removal (def helps with bathroom breaks) it’s a cloth belt I could easily sew through and it had blocky plastic buckle that I hid behind the long front middle panel and the waistband of the outside belt with a few snaps but it is definitely the support of this outfit most of the weight of all these long pieces of fabric were on my hips

Then when I had my sizes right and knew where I needed my button holes to be I bought my fabric and my friend convinced me to get some faux suede so then with my new pattern I cut everything out again and resewed it all which went by a million times faster when I knew what I was doing this time. For the collar I actually sewed the tiniest bit of foam between two piece of fabric that was sturdy enough to keep its shape but the outfit was still pretty heavy and would pull it out of place so I braided a bunch of pipe cleaners together and hot glued them under a flap of the collar to keep it stiff

Then I worked on the pants and actually made belts!! I completely fucked them up the first time and made them too large for the metal buckles but luckily I had extra fabric left and simply had to remake them (i also made these sort of chaps?? From a leather skirt I tore apart and sewed some zip ties inside to act like boning. Didn’t work super well because I didn’t actually leave myself with enough fabric to sew the zip ties securely in with but I didn’t have enough fabric left to restart with

The knee pads and elbow pad were pretty easy (I say after having a meltdown and almost quitting this outfit over) I just ripped apart some actual kneee pads and then painted them, added some felt on the outside beneath the leather and a bra pad on the inside against my knee and then hot glued the leather on top of the foam/I did sew the straps on the bra pad beforehand they also came from an old bra so unlike the chaps I couldnt strap myself into it I had to step into these but they stayed up ok. To keep the belts up I sewed little hooks onto my legging and the belts and it worked pretty well actually I wasn’t constantly pulling them up all day put more so straightening them when someone asked for a picture

I didn’t make the glasses the wig the gun or boots I did style the wig tho but otherwise the only other thing is the gun holster but it’s super straightforward I had a couple scraps from the skirt waistband left I sewed to hold it up on my belt and then followed a basic gun holster making tutorial on YouTube it worked pretty easily but it didn’t look super spectacular you can’t really see it tho so I wasn’t really worried more so I just wanted something to hold my prop while I walked around all day and it did the job great

I think one of the hardest parts is the undershirt connecting to the top poncho like piece with the long sleeves. They’re actually two different tops on my outfit I zipped myself into a short sleeved shirt and then snapped the armpits to the inside of the sleeves for the top piece that I could just put over my head. I definitely did take the shirt off at some point and had a bra the same color as the coat on during the con night hours which was amazing because that outfit was cozy as hell

Otherwise all that was left was the wig and I don’t have any pics or space for it on this post but I just followed basically any tiktok wig styling tutorial I could find (●’◡’●)ﾉ

OH MY GOD I NEVER POSTED MY COSPLAY PICS

YALL LOOK!!

I MADE THIS!!! I’m very proud of it :3

Also some Polaroids!

That’s all thank you ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡︎☮︎︎

[wastelesscrafts]

Hi!! Not sure if you've answered something similar before, but I have this jumper (purple turtleneck that fits perfectly it's basically my favourite jumper) that was a gift probably 8 years ago or so? and it's basically worn through at the elbows. No holes, but all the fluff of the yarn has worn off and you can see skin through it now, which kind of sucks. My parents think I should chuck it, but I'm sure there must be some way for me to repair it, and the rest of the jumper's fine. The only thing I can think of is knitting patches to go over the existing material, and I have some white 4ply that could do the job, but if you or your followers have any suggestions they'd be appreciated!

Love reading all your tips and tricks and I'm definitely going to be trying some of the diy sewing tutorials etc. when I have the time (and money for fabric)

Mending threadbare sweater elbows

You can absolutely mend that! :)

I've got a post on mending knit fabrics that has a bunch of techniques you could use to mend your sweater, like darning or patching and such.

Knitting patches for your sweater's an option. You can either knit separate patches and sew them onto your sweater, or knit them directly across the worn-out area. You can also use fabric patches.

(Image source) [ID: close-up on a heart-shaped red and black chequered patch sewn onto the elbow of a gray knit sweater.]

As you don't have a hole in your sweater yet, you can just cut out a patch of fabric and sew it across the worn-out area. Note that using woven fabric and non-stretchy stitches can alter how much the fabric around your elbow can stretch, so keep that in mind if the sweater relies on stretch to fit you.

If you'd rather knit or crochet your own patch, just sew it across the weakened fabric the same way you would for a fabric patch. Oddknits has good tutorials on how to figure out how to knit a certain shape, and plenty of fun shape ideas too.

If a hole develops before you can patch the sweater, make sure to run some yarn through the loose stitches around the edges of your hole before you sew on a patch. Knit fabric is made up of a bunch of loops: if one loop breaks, the entire fabric risks unravelling. Making sure the loose loops have something they can cling onto helps minimise this risk.

(Image source) [ID: close-up of a hole in a piece of beige knitting. The hole is in progress of being repaired by being knitted over with red thread.]

You can also knit across the weakened area instead of sewing a separate patch. This YouTube video by VeryPink Knits will show you how to knit across a hole. If you’re more of a written tutorial person, take a look at this Berroco article on knit patches.

If you're worried about your white patches standing out against the rest of the sweater, use your leftover yarn to do some embroidery in different spots on your sweater. This way, you're spreading your new design element (the colour white) out across your garment: this'll make it look like a conscious design choice rather than a mend.

[aurumacadicus]

Fictober 24/31 -- “Is this safe?

Back on my OC bullshit now that I’ve figured out my internet problem lol. Steve is open to learning new hobbies. Lottie is delighted to share her hobby. It’s over 1K so look out for under the cut!

--

Steve had never seen so many needles in his life. He thought maybe they didn’t even have so many at the hospital. “Is this safe?” he found himself asking before he could stop himself.

Lottie laughed. “Well, it’s safer than the sewing machine!” She patted the table. “Come sit. I found a really simple pattern for you, which uses a lot of different techniques, so you can practice them with low pressure.”

Steve looked at the embroidery hoop, the cloth stretched across it, the loops of thread and the teeny, tiny needle. He did not feel as if it was low pressure at all. The needle would disappear between his fingers. He would tear right through the fabric. He still worried about doorknobs sometimes. There were flowers printed on the fabric, he recognized dimly. Seemed too delicate for his big fingers.

“I’ve seen these works,” Lottie continued obliviously, pulling out her own embroidery hoop. It was covered in tiny stitches. It looked like a field of flowers. “People use mesh fabric or netting instead of regular fabric, makes it see-through. You’ve got a really delicate hand, so I think you’d be able to do it!”

Steve looked up at her in disbelief. “You think I have a delicate hand?” Just yesterday she’d been in the kitchen when he’d squeezed a tomato to see if it was ripe and had exploded the fruit in his fist.

Lottie lifted her gaze from her hoop to blink at him, seemingly stunned by his question. Finally, though, she said, “Yes, Steve.”

“You watched me crush a tomato yesterday,” Steve said, feeling like an idiot.

“Steve, I’ve watched you crush a fucking melon,” Lottie said flatly.

Steve flushed. “Clint and Tony told me to.”

“Yes, the margaritas were delicious. I appreciate the melon-crushing. But!” She extended her arm, holding her hand out to him.

Steve stared at it for a moment, then hesitantly reached out to take it. When she gripped his hand, he carefully gripped back. “But?” he asked when she said nothing, just held his hand.

Lottie tilted her head, staring at him. “You’re not crushing me.”

Steve flinched, carefully making sure his grip didn’t tighten with the motion. “It’s not the same,” he began.

“You’re careful with the things you care about,” Lottie said, ignoring him. “You have never hurt me or anyone on the team. You haven’t ripped your sketchbooks or broken your pencils. So you accidentally splattered everyone with a tomato the other day. Who hasn’t?”

“Lottie, I regret to inform you that covering the kitchen in a thin layer of tomato pulp is not normal,” Steve cut in.

Lottie blinked at him slowly. “Steve. You’re not normal.” She raised her free hand, motioning around the room. “The Avengers aren’t normal. Technically, I’m not normal either, but I’m probably more normal than all of you.” She leaned her elbow on the table and set her chin in her hand, staring up at him. “What makes you think accidents don’t happen to normal people? You apologized. We all laughed.” She smiled, wide and unselfconscious, in a way that made her nose and the corners of her eyes crinkle. “It was funny, Steve. You looked so startled! No one was upset about tomato stains, and we had plenty of other tomatoes. I think…” She hesitated, then barreled on. “I think you just focus too much on what goes wrong.”

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it again, swallowing the denial that had come up more on instinct than anything. “You… you really think so?”

“It’s something I’ve noticed,” Lottie admitted. “You always seem like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, and only reluctantly realizing it isn’t going to.”

Steve looked at their clasped hands, swallowing thickly. “Do I… Do I do it a lot?”

“Not all the time, but… enough,” Lottie answered after some thought. “You’re always a second behind to laugh when everyone else does. You hang back, as if you’re afraid you don’t belong. Eventually you smile, but… you pause first.”

“I pause first,” Steve murmured, shoulders sagging.

“I think,” Lottie began, then hesitated. She ran her thumb along his knuckles. Finally, though, she finished, “I think you survived something that no one should have. But… maybe I did, too. So. Steve? Maybe, just once… you could just let yourself be happy. And see what happens.”

Steve stared at her, unsure of what to say. He supposed she’d know about surviving something she wasn’t meant to, though, even if it wasn’t to the extent he had. Finally, though he drew his hand back, setting them both on the table on either side of the embroidery hoop in front of him. “Okay,” he said, uncertain whether he was agreeing with her or just trying to avoid answering. “What do we do first?”

Lottie stared at him for a very long time, stare penetrating. Eventually, she saw whatever she was looking for, instead turning her attention to his embroidery hoop as well. “First, we’re going to thread the needle and knot your thread. Then we’re going to do a holding stitch. And then, you’re learning how to do a backstitch.”

“Okay,” Steve said, carefully picking up the needle between two fingers. It really was the smallest needle he’d ever seen, and she had what looked like hundreds of them. He figured if he lost it, she’d have plenty to hold her over until he could replace it.

“Oh, and I got you these, so you can see better,” Lottie added, handing him a set of magnifying glasses.

Steve took them more on instinct than actual acceptance. He stared at them. Tried not to frown. Failed. “Don’t tell Tony.”

Lottie scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Where do you think I got them?”

“These are Tony’s?!” Steve spluttered.

“He’s got, like, half a dozen pairs,” Lottie said with a blasé shrug. “Uses them for electrical work or something. I just said I needed a pair, and he told me to take them.”

Steve stared at them for a long moment, then sighed. “Don’t tell Tony. He’ll be insufferable.”

“I think that’s just his normal state of being,” Lottie said, not unkindly, and Steve couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him if he tried.

[lpanne]

So i grew up with this painting hanging in my room, which was painted by my grandmother. I've loved this combination of bright colors and victorian architectural elements. And i've wanted to convert this to a cross stitch pattern. I'm only done with the first panel so far and as i only work on this project in a blue moon, i don't know when i'll post updates but i wanted to share the process.

Step 1: convert image to a cross stitch pattern using MacStitch

I chose the size of the pattern so each of the three panels would be around 7'' x 9'' when stitched on 14 count fabric and i could make the three panels into three different decorative pillows eventually. I also told the program to use as many colors as it thought were necessary. In a lot of my other projects where i've started with a computer generated image (like the pokemon gameboy covers and the card i made for a friend which was a stitched portrait) i limited the number of colors for the program to use so that when i decided to do gradients of around 4 DMC threads in each color story i wouldn't have to edit the computer generated gradients that much, just choose which threads actually looked good in real life. Now this isn't perfect, i had to design my friend's ear from scratch because it was just a muddy mess in the generated image. But here the painting doesn't really have gradients of color. so i told the program to use as many colors as needed so i could get all the details and differentiation as possible for when i went back through and cleaned up the image.

Step 2: clean up the computer generated image

while the computer generated image really helps with layout, it does not help with details especially since i restricted the size of this pattern to about 1/2 of the size of the painting. i had to figure out how to convert a lot of the details found here by hand as somethings that work when painting don't really work when you are working with pixel art.

Step 4: choose colors that look good in real life

i'm not there yet. This will be the last step of the process that will most likely overlap my time actually stitching this. I'm not planning on choosing colors until i've finished the next two panels and i really know how many colors i need. My pallet still says i'm using 109 colors, and i really hope to cut that down.

I don't think this will be one of the patterns i give away, as my grandmother has passed and i can't ask her how she'd feel about that. I'm mostly doing this to work on my pattern making ability but also to really get a sense of how my grandmother painted. i've had this painting hanging in my bedroom for i think over 25 years but as i've been converting it i've found details in shading and painting technique that i've never noticed. Anyways i couldn't think of a new pattern to share this week so i figured i share this project i've been tinkering with for over a year. maybe sharing this will actually help motivate me to finishing the other panels.

[silversatoru]

Hello! I saw that you’re taking requests. I hope this is the right place to request, I’m new to tumblr haha.

Could I request, Megumi x F!reader, heavy angst breakup sex? The rest of the details are completely up to you if that’s okay!

I loved the gojo one btw!

yes yes here u go!! i hope this is the kind of thing you were looking for!

burdens

fushuguro megumi x nonsorcerer f!reader

synopsis: you and megumi have been dating for a few months now, and he decides it’s time to call it quits. he’d rather break your heart than have to watch you die, but not before he gets to feel you one last time

tags/warnings: smut, angst, break-up sex, nsfw (18+), takes place in the jjk universe but reader is not a sorcerer

word count: 2484

a/n: writing angsty megumi breaks my heart every single time. i jus want to give him a hug

Megumi watched anxiously across the room as a couple nurses finished applying bandages to your arm, your eyebrows knitted together in pain as they brushed over the large gashes. He noticed the small twitches in your other hand —probably caused by a mixture of pain and anxiety. You were stupidly strong, probably one of the tenacious people he’d ever met, but he could tell that this was getting to you. All of the curses you couldn’t see, the jujutsu techniques that you didn’t understand, it was all becoming overwhelming — dangerous even.

The two of you had been on a date a few hours ago, a sushi dinner and then a walk in the park — something simple — because even the simplest things felt wonderful when he was with you. And that’s exactly how things felt today, wonderful, or at least they did before the two of you ran into a hideous curse. 

He should have noticed it, picked up on it’s cursed energy, anything — but he was so terribly distracted when he was around you. So when it caught both of you off guard and wrapped it’s grotesque fingers around your fragile body, he felt nothing but guilt. Nothing but shame and disappointment in himself that he had failed to protect you yet again. Exorcising it was easy of course, but the damage had already been done — your beautiful arm had been torn to shreds by the monster. Now the two of you were sitting in a pale, white hospital room telling lies about how you were attacked by a stray dog. 

Thankfully, other than the lacerations down your arm you were okay, your blood loss wasn’t too severe and the two of you had gotten here before any kind of infection could crawl it’s way into your skin. 

The car ride back to your small Tokyo apartment was dreadfully quiet. You’d made several attempts at conversation but Megumi continued to shut them down, a dark shadow of expressions cast over his face. You told him several times that this wasn’t his fault, that you understood the risks of dating him, but he just kept brushing you off. He’d told you several times to “shut up” or “be quiet”, and your heart ached at his bitter words — he’d never talked to you that way before tonight. 

When the two of you walked into your apartment, he was quick to slam the door shut and wrap a firm arm around your waist. He moved with a sense of urgency, forcing you back against the wall and letting hot, heavy breaths fall against your neck.

“Megumi-,” You pressed a hand to his chest, attempting to put some distance between the two of you but failing miserably — he was much too strong. 

You wished you could take a peek into his head, unravel his thoughts and figure out what the hell he was thinking. He was acting incredibly out of character since the two of you had left the hospital, and your chest was starting to throb with anxiety. 

He pressed a wet, messy kiss to your lips, making your heart leap into your throat and your stomach churn. You graciously accepted the kiss, of course, his lips against yours was the most blissful feeling in the world. However, as his tongue moved roughly around your mouth and his teeth bit down fiercely on your bottom lip, uncertainty crawled up your skin. Megumi was always so gentle with you, only ever touching you in the most gingerly ways, treating your body like a piece of the most priceless glass. So, why now was he gripping your skin so tightly you thought it might bruise? Why were his kisses sure to leave your lips swollen and sore?��

“Please, honey, let me have you,” He suddenly spoke, stirring you out of your thoughts. 

Honey, it was his favorite name for you, in fact he rarely called you by your actual name. Normally, that name sent butterflies swirling through your stomach, but this time was different. He said the word as if it left a sour taste in his mouth, as if he regretted having to call you that. 

“W-what?” You looked up at him with big eyes, big eyes that he refused to look into.

“Give me permission to touch you, please,” His voice was filled with so many emotions all at once — anger, despair, regret, need, hunger — there was probably more but he was impossibly hard to read right now. 

“Why are you acting like this?” You tried to plead with him, reaching up and cupping a hand around his soft cheek. 

“God, just say yes. Please just say yes and then stop talking,” His voice was almost a growl as this point, so uncharacteristically resentful. 

“I mean- yes? Of course? You’re always allowed to touch me. But why-” You spoke in confused, frantic breaths. 

“Thank you,” He immediately cut you off after gaining consent, wrapping a stiff hand around your wrist and practically dragging you back to your bedroom. 

He pushed you towards your large, queen-sized bed and then slipped his hands underneath his shirt and yanked it over his head in one long, swift motion. 

“Take your clothes off,” He demanded, undoing the drawstring of his sweatpants and letting them fall into a heap at his ankles. 

You wordlessly obliged, attempting to convince yourself that he needed this. He needed this and after you gave it to him, things would go back to normal — he’d just had a rough day, that’s all. 

It took him mere moments to aggressively pin you underneath him, though he was tediously avoiding your injured arm. He pressed a series of sloppy, wet kisses to your collarbone, slowly moving up to your neck and leaving painful imperfections all over your skin. You winced as he began to suck on a particularly sensitive spot, nibbling hard enough to make your skin sting and burn under his tongue. He continued to trail hungry, relentless kisses down the entirety of your body, covering every inch of your skin in aching love marks. You felt like you were on fire, the subtle pain and immense pleasure beginning to cloud your head — you were even starting to forget how tense things had been between the two of you just moments ago. 

Megumi sat up and stared down at you as he fumbled with his boxers, sliding them off and throwing them to the floor. He needed this more than he’d ever needed anything in his entire life — he needed to feel you one last time and then he needed to break your heart. 

He reached down and ran a single, slender finger along the folds of your entrance, a fire igniting in his eyes when he felt how slick you already were. 

“God, you’re too perfect,” He murmured, giving a harsh squeeze to the skin around either side of your hips, “Get on your hands and knees”.

His praise sent goosebumps up your arms and light blush across your cheeks, making things feel almost-normal. You flipped yourself over onto your knees, stretching your arms out against the bed and arching your back as hard as you could. 

With absolutely no warning, he thrusted forward with incredible force, sheathing himself deep inside you and causing a strangled scream to lurch from your lungs. His head dipped low as he let out a throaty groan, his long black hair hanging lazily over his face. Sharp breaths and pained whimpers rolled from your lips, your knuckles turning white from squeezing the bed sheets so hard. 

Megumi always started slow, he always whispered sweet praises into your ears, always asked if you felt okay — nothing between the two of you had ever been this rough and unforgiving. This time he set a steady pace right from the start, his hips rolling ruthlessly as he slammed himself into you. Your breaths were terribly uneven and completely muffled by the pillow your face was forced into. You gasped for air as he stroked with unbelievable force, catching the pillowcase in your teeth and biting down hard on the fabric. 

His pace slowed for a mere second, and you felt his fingers intertwine themselves in your soft locks of hair. You sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers tightening into a fist and yanking your head backwards. Once his hand was secured around the roots of your hair, his strokes intensified again. 

The initial pain of taking his forceful cock had subsided and replaced itself with immense pleasure, but your scalp was ablaze with a horrible, piercing pain as he tugged at your hair. The overwhelming combination of complete agony and intoxicating bliss caused a few tears to form at the edges of your eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. Your hips and ass began to ache, and you knew you’d be terribly sore tomorrow morning. The pain was starting to become more prominent and it was getting increasingly difficult to hold your back at such an uncomfortable arch. 

Megumi lifted his spare hand to his forehead, swiftly wiping the small beads of sweat that were forming above his eyebrows. He panted hard, moans and strings of curse words leaving his throat as he continued to rail you into oblivion. His throbbing member was starting to go numb from the devastating amount of stimulation, and he knew he’d need to finish soon. 

“Squeeze your legs,” His words were less of an instruction and more of a demand. 

You quickly complied, squeezing your legs closer together and feeling your walls constrict around his full length. The euphoric sensation was enough to send Megumi falling over the edge, his head flying backwards as he ripped his member free of your warm grasp. He wrapped his long fingers firmly around himself, jerking hard as he sprayed his emanation all over your beautifully arched back. Choked moans and aggressive cuss-words flew from his gritted teeth as his climax coursed through his body in waves. 

As the wonderful feelings finally started to wash away, he stared down at you with a horrible emptiness in his eyes — now came the hard part. 

He stood up and wordlessly walked into your bathroom, retrieving a towel to clean you up with. He wiped it lazily over your back and then tossed it into your hamper before beginning to collect his clothes that were strewn across the bedroom floor. 

“What about me?” You were sitting up now, your favorite blanket pulled up to your chin and clinging to your last shreds of hope.

You felt the need to hide your exposed body now that the two of your were done, his coldness heightening every insecurity you had.

“I have to go. Do it yourself,” He shot you a sideways glance, pulling his loose sweats around his waist. 

“What? Why do I feel like you’re not going to come back?” You could no longer fight the tears that had been lingering in your eyes for hours now. 

Everything was starting to make sense — you were slowly piecing everything together. His silence at the hospital, his refusal to speak to you in the car, his sudden hunger towards you, and now his unusual coldness as he practically told you to go fuck yourself. He was going to break up with you, wasn’t he? But why?

“Because I’m not. I think we should end things here”.

“So, that’s it? You just wanted to use me like a fuck-toy one last time, is that what this was?” You tried hard to keep your voice steady, but a few cracks forced their way out. 

“That’s really all you were good for anyway,” His words were like a knife to the heart, “You’re nothing but a burden outside of that”. 

A burden? That’s all you ever were to him? You refused to believe that, but his words were doing an excellent job at convincing you. After all, he was constantly protecting you from those terrifying monsters he called curses — maybe that really was a burden on him. You didn’t have any kind of other-worldly powers like Megumi did, so you truly were helpless whenever one of those things was around. Hell, until they were literally threatening your life, you couldn’t even see them. 

“You’re springing this on me out of nowhere, Megumi. You were completely normal just a few hours ago when we were eating at that sushi place! Is this because of that curse and my arm? Because if it is I’ll just work harder! You can teach me to use those cursed tools you told me about!” Tears were streaming down your face as you screamed helplessly at him.

“You’d still be too weak even if I did teach you to use a weapon or two. Things between us just aren’t going to work, okay? Don’t make me keep saying it,” He shook his head, slipping on his shoes and walking towards the bedroom door.

“I hate you, Fushiguro Megumi,” You spat out his full name, “You could at least be honest with me. You could tell me you’re afraid of losing me, that you don’t want me to get hurt — but this ‘you’re nothing but a burden’ garbage that you’re spewing is bullshit and you know it”. 

“Maybe. But if I told you those other things instead, you wouldn’t listen, would you? You’d just keep telling me that the risk of being with me is worth it,” He turned around and looked at you with heavy, pained eyes.

“Do you know how tired I am of watching the people I love die? Things would be so much easier for me if you just stayed the fuck away”. 

He left after that, slamming the door behind him before you even had a chance to say anything. He couldn’t bear the idea of seeing you die — seeing a curse pop your head off or strangle your body into horrifying shapes. No matter how broken his heart felt leaving you behind, it was still better than being the reason you suffered a young, unfair death. 

It turned out that you were never the burden — the real burden was being born into the cursed life of a jujutsu sorcerer. A life of risk and regret, pain and suffering, watching people die young and in the most grotesque ways. Somewhere, in another universe, Megumi liked to think that he was born into a normal, mundane life where he was able to love you endlessly and give you everything you ever deserved. And god — in his eyes you deserved the entire fucking world. 

[tj-crochets]

I have a quilting question! That being, I’ve never quilted before but I have a gazillion squares of fabric (thrift store whoops, didn’t realize it was cut) and I need a new quilt. If I’m trying to do a basic “I want a warm blanket” quilt, would I just… sew a checkerboard of the squares together, then get batting and idk, a piece of matching size fabric for the back? I have a sewing machine but nothing specifically quilting I don’t think.

Hi! You've got the basics down, that pretty much is the bare bones of quilting and if you want to start with just that you absolutely can. There are some steps that can make the finished product a little less lumpy and/or a little more durable (ironing, basting, stuff like that) but off the top of my head I don't have specific resources to point you toward? Let me see if any of the quilt youtubers I watch have some videos on it okay this quilter doesn't seem to have a "never made any sort of quilt before" tutorial but once you've made one quilt I recommend Just Get It Done Quilts (or if you want to be particularly ambitious about your skills, before your first quilt? I found a lot of technique advice only made sense to me after I'd made my first quilt, but you might learn differently than I do). She has a lot of pattern videos and a lot of technique videos. This seems like a decent very detailed step-by-step guide to making a quilt from start to finish (I just glanced at it), but I will tell you one thing that most of the guides you will read will disagree with: If you are making a simple patchwork for your first quilt (aka a checkerboard of squares) and you aren't super picky about the exact finished size, you do not need to worry about the 1/4" seam allowance. You can ignore all of that and come back to figuring out how to do it later. For simple patchworks, it's just important that your seam allowance is consistent. So, if you're not super familiar with sewing but are using a machine, just line up the edges of the fabric with the edge of the foot on your sewing machine, and whatever that is will be fine (as long as the seam allowance is large enough to not unravel. It'd work for all the sewing machine feet I have, but I have not seen all the options) also tagging in @creations-by-chaosfay, who has been quilting a lot longer than I have. Do you have a good step-by-step starting guide to making your first quilt?

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

Hi beautiful! I love Damian's clothes and gear but I have to wonder who dresses him because some of the choices are kinda loud. I sew and make costumes so it's super interesting to me to see the choices WWE makes...maybe some HCs or a fic about Damian dating someone in the wardrobe department? 👀👀 If you need some inspo, I can confirm that taking measurements is a super intimate experience. Your hands are all over whoever you're measuring and you are up close and personal with their body the whole time.

Hi gorgeous 💕! Yeah 😂 the choices are..bold choices 🤣 Beautiful, but bold! You do? Oh that’s so cool! I can’t sew not even if my life depended on it 😂 so I honestly admire who can sew and make beautiful clothes and costumes 😍 Wow, that’s such an amazing idea! And thank you for the inspo, a little scenario just crossed my mind 😉😈😘 (P.S. This gif is DELICIOUS 🤤)

@ziasaph , @theworldofotps , @aerynscrichton , @alyhull , @lovinglerae , @sophiewolfheart-blog

You were finishing to cut out some fabric before you can call the day off

You were currently working on a new gear for Drew McIntyre

And that was taking you a while to figure it out

So it already became a routine for you to be the last one of the wardrobe department to live the arena

While you worked on some measures

You heard a knock on the door

“Come in” You said, without looking up

You stayed in your bent over position and didn’t even bothered to look behind you

Presuming it was your best friend Molly

Who always forgets something in the arena

You asked

“Hey, do you think you can help me measure this real quick?”

Suddenly you heard

“Sure, you can use my ruler if you want to” He chuckled in your ear, and placed his hands in your hips

“Damian!” You reprimand him “You scared the shit out of me! Fuck, my heart is racing now!” You panted

“Let me see” Placing his hand on your chest “It is racing” he roamed it down, until he cupped your left breast through the shirt

“Subtle” You chuckled, taking his hand off your breast

“What? I was just making sure your heart stopped racing” He pretended a fake innocence you’re already so used to it

“Of course” You laughed

“What are you doing?”

“McIntyre’s gear, I need to finish some measurements”

“Need help?” He kissed your neck

“Do you know how to measure?” You asked with a confused frown

“No, but I told you you can use my ruler for that” You could hear the smile on his voice “My big, thick, hard and long ruler” He teased

“Eww” You laughed at his double entendre joke “You’re so ridiculous”

“I’m serious, baby”

“Right” You cackled but the sound suddenly died on your lips when he pressed his erection against your ass

“Why don’t we do some measurements real quick, huh?” He nibbled your ear “I can teach you some new measuring techniques” He whispered

Before pushing you down on the table

[appledew]

Glow Job is all set!

Made for  x-splatterpaw-x on deviantArt!

Glow Job is made of Spoonflower custom printed minky, and short pile minky and custom dyed short pile minky. The tongue piercing is made up of 2 beads. It lays at 10 inches from the tip of the nose the the back legs. The eyes are machine embroidered. 

Holy cow. So much prep went into this little one; as soon as the commissions was accepted, planning and designing was started. ^^; 

So starting off with the choice of going with printed minky. The amount of gradients and details (stripes) in the base body was definitely shocking, to say the least! It was VERY tempting to just embroider all the stripes but the back legs would have been quite stiff and the overlapping stripes on the seams would have been a bit difficult to line up (and a bit unsightly!) . So Spoonflower it was! I decided to get the whole base body printed to get a little more consistency, but then I ran into another speed bump: the cutie mark. 

The stripes were made at this point and I realized the cutie mark had some transparent parts. It felt like I was cheating, but I decided to throw the cutie mark on the design as well. I got a bit uneasy at figuring out how to align the cutiemark to the border/transparent areas, and embroidering the transparency would have made it look a bit funny (and I’d run into alignment issues again ^^; ) I do like how the design was printed, but it feels a tiny bit out of place since I’m so used to embroidering cutie marks.

I did have to cut out some detailing, especially in the wings; the darker part of the wings (feathered part?) were supposed to be “3D”, a layer of minky to show off some fluff, but the white seams were showing a bit too much to attempt it, making them double sided also added too much bulk to the wings. :( A bit sad that it was something I decided against, BUT I was able to feathering to the hooves! I do wish that the printing would sink into the fabric a little better to reduce more of the speckle-y white spots and seams, but that's minky pile for you! ^^;

Moving onto the mane and tail, so I decided to go with short pile minky since I believe the Spoonflower minky is a shorter pile than the regular minky I use. I WISH I had access to more colors of this minky because again, I LOVE how clean it looks! *u * The blue and purple-ish colors were custom dyed, though I wish the purple could have taken more of the dye to achieve a darker tone, but it is definitely such a beautiful color (and am glad I have some scraps left over!)

Aaaaand I think thats it! For the last plush in the queue (technically) it knocked the air out of me, but put a fire under my rump! This little plush has made me want to test out some new techniques on pony beanies; we shall see where that goes! 

_________

More intimate WIPs can be found on my Ko-fi!  :)  https://ko-fi.com/appledew

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AppleDew_

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/apple.dew

Tumblr: http://appledew.tumblr.com/

Furaffinity: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/appledew

deviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/appledew

[ren-therose]

You Are Like Me (Pt. 1 of "Winter's End)

Roommate!Bucky X F!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky begin rooming together after Sam discovers your background and suggests you live with him. . As another failed HYDRA experiment with an enhanced skill set, Sam decides that you, the newest recruit who shares a similar path with the Winter Soldier would benefit from living together.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Cursing, semi-spoilers for FATWS (but nothing plot related, just set during that time).

A/N: This started out as a one-shot for our man Bucky Barnes, but now there will be multiple pieces with this as the wonderful starting piece to the story. I don't know how much the parts will be reliant on a plot, but it will all be based on the same love story throughout. The parts don't necessarily need to be read all together and in order. There will be a variety with this couple, varying from angst to smut, fluffy fluffy FLUFFY shit, and some very depressing stuff too. I hope that these different pieces fulfill all your Bucky needs and help you feel like you really have a developed and copasetic relationship with this lovely gentleman.

"Jesus, who the hell are you?"

I had been laying on a neatly made bed in the apartment Sam had signed me up for. I was staring at the ceiling mindlessly as an old record player spun, emitting the scratchy tones of classic 1940s music. In my hand was a small journal, opened to a blank page towards the middle of the book. My eyes shot open, my hand grabbing a knife from the back of my pants as I launched myself off the bed and towards the unfamiliar man in the doorway.

Before the knife could reach his throat, cool metal met my wrist, stopping my arm in its track. I was practically on top of the dark man in front of me, staring up into his bright cerulean orbs. He seemed almost amused by this first introduction. Almost. The glimmer of humor left his eyes as soon as my knee made contact with his groin, causing him to keel over, as I maneuvered around him to be behind, using his arms hold on me to choke himself.

"I could ask you the same question, blue eyes," I said with a snort. I realized quickly he wasn't an enemy, but the continued power struggle was fun enough to let it play out. Before I could plan my next move though, I was flipped over his broad shoulders, and square on my back, the impact knocking the wind out of me. I looked up through my lashes, trying to focus my eyesight as the splitting headache blurred my vision. Standing above me, the man let out a soft chuckle as he stepped over me, making his way over to the bed and sitting on the edge. I slowly lifted my head, still dizzy from the landing, as his eyes followed the outline of my body.

I was still in my training clothes, too tired to have changed out of the tight tank top and cargo pants. I had been perfecting my combat technique so that I could fend for myself, but it seems I was not yet ready to fight whoever the stranger in my room was.

"Here," he started, getting up from his place and reaching his right hand out to me. I stared at it for a moment, not sure if I should give in or not, though I could tell I would have to. I placed my hand in his, surprised by the contrasting warmth I felt compared to the hand he had caught my wrist in. He quickly pulled me up, causing me to launch into his chest, my left arm quickly wrapping around his bicep to steady myself.

"You can feel me up later doll, but can you explain what the hell you are doing in my room?" He taunted.

I realized that his colder hand was on the small of my back and I leaned back into grasp as I sneered "I could say the same for you..." I noticed the outline of dog tags imprinted underneath his shirt, glancing back up into his eyes with a wink, "Sarge".

He let go, allowing me the chance to step back and start searching for my knife. I could feel his eyes on me, questions waiting to be asked.

"You are Seragnet Barnes, correct?" I mused, grabbing my weapon from the corner and twirling it in my hand before replacing it in its holster. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile at my maneuver, but quickly looked down and cleared his throat before replying.

"Yes ma'am. And I apologize for not knowing your name, as well as for throwing you," he grunted. It was suddenly a very formal manner in which he spoke. My eyebrow quirked up, as I spun on my heels and made my way into the kitchen, hearing heavy footsteps follow in time.

"Y/N".

"And what are you doing in my room, Y/N?" he said inquisitively. I was now the freezer for an ice pack, finding a floppy blue one in the back.

"I guess, I'm your roommate," I shrugged, putting the ice pack to the back of my head as I moved towards the bathroom.

"Wait, Sam told me I was meeting someone named "Y/L/N", they were gonna stay here for a bit," he retorted, once again following behind.

"That is my last name Blue Eyes. Need an ID or something?" I called over my shoulder, turning the corner to enter the bathroom, reaching towards the medicine cabinet.

"That still doesn't explain why you were on my bed," he scoffed, leaning against the door frame as I scavenged through the drawers.

"I didn't think anyone was living here. I was told I'd have a roommate, but I didn't think anyone had moved in yet. You have, like, no shit here. It looks like a hotel room," I critique, standing up with a shake of the bottle in my hand.

"I'm using your Ibuprofen" I say with mock respect. I move past him as I saunter back towards the kitchen. He can't help but laugh at this bizarre encounter and that I am truly not making this easy for him.

"You have a lot of sass for someone who just had their ass beat," he jeers, leaning forward on the counter between us.

All I could do was smile and shake my head, throwing the pills into my mouth and taking a swig of water.

"So, Y/L/N, why do you figure we Sam is rooming us together?"

"Love match?" I joke, placing the now empty cup in the sink and walking over to his side, leaning my back against the countertop.

He snorts, amused by my sarcasm once more. "Maybe, but I have a feeling it goes deeper," he says, turning to rest his side on the counter as he looks me over, clearly searching for something.

"You aren't gonna find any metal attached to me, Barnes," I report, turning to brace myself against the counter. "They messed me up in here." I gesture to forehead, softly tapping to get my point across.

His face falls as he realizes what I mean.

"HYDRA..." was all he could make out.

"They weren't just trying to make soldiers. They were trying to make spies. Hyper intelligent ones that can be manipulated without the risk of losing control or access, like a computer could. I am their failed experiment," I say softly. I chuck the ice pack into the sink, and make my way over to the window, rubbing at the back of my head.

"You have super soldier serum. I have an acute memory and the ability to calculate probable outcomes and human error. I remember..." I turn back to look him in the eye, "everything".

His mouth slightly gapes as he looks me over. "I was a lethal weapon when placed in sensitive situations. If I knew the possible endings of different scenarios, I could pick which one could happen."

He steps towards me, as if he was considering whether to comfort me. Before he could though, I straightened up and tried to scurry past him.

"I am so sorry for invading your space, I'll take my stuff out of your room. I can stay on the couch until-" The Winter Soldier cut me off, grabbing my arm before I could make it into the room.

"No, take the bed, please," he began. "I don't sleep in it anyways. Too comfy."

My eyes go from the grip on my arm up to his eyes, staring down at me, but with concern. I softened my face, providing a half smile as I nodded my head.

"Okay, Sarge. Let's eat though- I'm starving. You order the pizza while I take a shower. Then we can talk."

He let me go, looking down into my eyes, "I think I know your favorite kind."

I raised a brow at this bet, curious to see if he was right. "Alright...we will see..."

I turned and made my way towards the bathroom, looking back to see him still watching.

---

Shit, I don't have my clothes.

I was dripping from the shower still and my hair was very haphazardly put in a bun to keep the water from dripping. I quietly opened the door and peeked my head out, searching for my new roommate. When I had determined the coast was clear, I scurried into the room, shutting the door behind me quietly. When I turned around, I shrieked to see James exiting my closet, a few shirts in hand.

"What the fuck Barnes!!" I choke, desperately clutching my towel, as I had almost lost my grip. He dropped the shirts to the ground, slapping his hand over his eyes in case I did lose my covering.

"Damn, Y/L/N, let me buy you dinner first!" He laughs, trying to make his way to the door.

"Oh you are SO paying for the pizza now Barnes," I fume, adjusting my towel and making my way to the other side of the bed where my bag was.

"So you're saying I can look?"

"You just scared me, I'm decent you prick". I kneeled down beside the bed, opening my bag to see that all of my clothes were missing.

"Are you. fucking. SHITTING ME?" I curse, banging my already sore head onto the side of the bed.

"What did I do this time," the soldier groans.

"No, it's not you, it's just that...well shit. My clothes are missing."

"Oh yeah. I threw them in the wash for you. You weren't carrying a lot, and it's a force of habit from the old days, I thought they would be done by now but-"

"Sergeant?" I interrupt, seething with rage and a tinge of embarrassment.

"Y/L/N?"

"I don't have any clothes," I hiss.

"oh." he says shortly. I press my face into the bed, trying not to scream bloody murder. Suddenly, I feel two soft things land on me, causing me to turn my face to the side.

"Sweats and a shirt. Don't do anything weird," he quipped, leaving me in the room alone.

I look down at the black sweats and navy blue shirt. It was soft, and smelled of fabric softener and pine. I looked up at the empty hallway as I heard the front door open and shut behind him as he went to get the pizza.

I slipped on the clothes and looked myself over in the mirror. I decided to let my hair down to air dry, and the rest of me looked swallowed in his clothes. His sweats were pulled tightly around my hips, exposing my stomach when I stood. The shirt would probably be form fitting on him, but it just barely gave me a shape, though my chest clung to the fabric. I didn't know what this meant, but whatever it was felt nice.

---

"I got the pizza, and Sam already confirmed I was right about it being your favorite so..." James trailed off as he saw me standing in the kitchen, leaning over a brochure of sorts. I looked up to see him holding pizza in one hand and soda in the other as his eyes widened at my get up.

"No snappy remark, blue eyes? Wow, they just keep getting wide-" he cut me off by throwing the box down in front of me.

"Movie?" he muttered, quickly making his way past towards the living room.

"uh...okay. Can we watch 'Casablanca'?"

He turned around, looking at me with confusion.

"You know that movie? That was made almost 80 years ago."

"I'm a sucker for the classics, James," I say, grabbing the pizza and soda of the counter and bringing it to the coffee table.

"Bucky, please. We're gonna be living together and already saw you half-naked," he chides, sitting down on the couch and flipping it on with the remote.

"Okay, Bucky, do you remember the plot?" I probe, sitting myself next to him as I placed two glasses in front of us. I pulled my legs up to cross and adjusted the waist of my pants to sit above my stomach more comfortably. He was leaning back into the sofa, as I was turned to face him, waiting patiently for a response.

"I mean, I remember looking back on it and how terribly it depicted the war. It was not easy to find love abroad," he stated, reaching to grab a slice of pizza.

"Were you looking for love?"

"I was looking for fun. I was pretty sure I was gonna die, or at least not make it back. I was kind of right," he finished, biting into the slice.

"Yeah, not a lot of love in present day HYDRA safe-houses either. Not that I had time for it between missions, I say, leaning over to pour the drinks.

"Well what were you before...them?"

"A history student, if you can believe it. Wanted to study abroad and learn about wars, apply it to algorithms to prevent them. Seems like the common denominator was always men," I reply with a wink.

"I can't say you are wrong. But I am impressed. And now..."

"Now, I'm protected by the Avengers, er- what's left of them, and am able to use my skills for good. All of that history knowledge, everything I have ever learned and forgotten about, I can remember it all". I looked him up and down. "I didn't recognize you without the long hair and this stubble thing kinda threw me off, it's not the same as the pictures in the museum".

He adjusted his angle to better face me, curiosity etched across his features. "You really are something," he contended. The comment caused me to pull back, shocked by his honesty.

"I...uh..." I stammer, unsure of how to proceed.

"If you're going to say thank you, don't bother. It's just a fact," he noted, once more causing me to fall to silence.

He started looking up the movie, struggling with the technology of the remote.

As I studied him, the tension in his jaw, the stress he carries in his eyes, I realized I shared similar features.

"ты как я," I whisper under my breath, unsure if he even heard me.

You are like me.

I knew when he straightened up, and slowly looked in my direction.

"я знаю," he replied.

I know.

I reached my hand out to his arm, resting it on gently.

"What does this mean?" I asked softly.

"I'm not quite sure."

------

The next morning, I awoke to the smell of deep roast coffee.

Bucky and I had spent almost the entire night talking. We skimmed around the dark parts of our past, knowing that there would be time for that, but instead got to know the things that really shaped who we are today.

He really enjoyed his time in Wakanda. It was incredibly healing for him, and allowed him a chance to find piece, something we ex-soldiers and spies rarely could get. He told me about his life in the 40s, or what he could remember. A lot of his memories has been formed with the help of Steve, which I knew caused him pain. But he also found happiness in retelling those stories, knowing that someone else will see him as more than the Winter Soldier.

I shared my experience abroad. I had been all across the USA, in Canada, both Iceland and Greenland, Poland, France, Italy, Turkey, London, and of course Sokovia. It was were I had been taken during my travels. I had never told anyone about this before, but I had felt so comforted knowing that he had been through something so similar.

I don't know when, but at some point in the night, I had ended up falling asleep propped up on the couch. When I woke up in my bed the next morning, I realized it must have been him. I looked down to see I was still wearing his shirt, and smiled to myself. When I got up, I found his sweats on the floor, knowing I probably kicked them off when I got into bed. I stepped back into them, pulling them up around my legs and tying them once more on my hips. I looked in the mirror, my hair limp and flat from sleep. Checking my phone, I walked out, scratching my head and rubbing my face, yawning as the coffee smell grew stronger.

"доброе утро," he greets me, smirking at the confused face I made.

"No Russian. Too early. Try again later," I mumbled, jumping up to sit on the counter. He held up the sugar, shaking it in my face.

"Two to three teaspoons please," I groan, pushing the container out of my face.

"Someone likes it sweet," he laughs, dumping in my unhealthy request.

"And creamer, if you have some," I added, smiling as he turned towards the fridge.

"Did you know you speak Russian in your sleep?"

"I bet you do the same. All HYDRA escapees probably," I mutter, taking the mug from his hands.

"Well, you will have to let me know sometime," he chides, taking a sip of his own black coffee.

"Last night was...."

"Traumatizing?"

"Yeah, but maybe healing too?"

"Good," he exclaims, walking over to the couch. He sits down, swiping his phone off the charger next to him.

"Before you have to go, do you want some breakfast?" I offer, scanning his response to my inquiry.

"Is that your power thing? You knew they would ask me to work today?" He questions, looking down at the phone and then back at me.

"It's a skill, not a power. I'm not a superhero," I laugh, getting out the contents for a breakfast sandwich.

"Yes, I would like one. But you already knew that didn't you?"

"No skills required. Tony texted me this morning too. We are training together."

He smiled. He almost looked excited.

"I'm gonna beat your ass again Y/L/N".

"You wish".

-----------------------------------------------------

Every day, we played out the same routine.

I would wake up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. I'd come out, thank him and proceed to make us breakfast. We would then go to combat training for a few hours. When he wasn't helping me, he was working on his own workout routine; often, he would put aside time to just focus on improving my knife skills. He would always joked that I showed promise after out first encounter, and then would promptly beat my ass in a knife fight.

After training, it would be time to meet Sam for lunch, chat about our personal lives (which were rarely separated from our work), as well as current issues in the Avengers, and the world.

Bucky always stayed close by when we were out and about, glancing over to make sure I was okay. I would signal back that it was okay, smiling as a way of thanks when I noticed him checking. The only time we went our separate ways for our "rehab plans" we called jokingly. He would go see his therapist while I went and saw mine. Then, he would meet Sam for a bit by himself, while I went back to our place and did paperwork. When he came home, we would decide on dinner and a movie, but would probably stay up the whole night talking and leaving the movie with at least 20 minutes to go (on a good night).

One night, after I had "magically" ended up in bed, I woke up to Bucky shaking me, yelling my name.

"Y/N! Y/N, it's me, it's Bucky! Come on Y/N, wake up!"

I was drenched in sweat and my voice felt coarse and raw. My heart was beating at an impossible rate, as I shot up to hold on to him.

"Y/N, it's okay, you're okay," he said, trying to calm me down as he pushed my wet hair off of my face. I was gripping his arms, trying my best to ground myself. My eyes were bloodshot and wet, as tears and sweat mixed down my face. His blue eyes were frantically searching me, making sure that I was okay.

"It was them Bucky, they were here, they were gonna hurt you, I couldn't move, they said the, they said the words Bucky, jesus I was gonna lose you Buck, I couldn't, I can't..." I trailed off, starting to hyperventilate as I buried my face in his chest, allowing him to pull me closer.

He held me against him, shushing me as he ran his hand through the back of my hair. His chin rested atop my head as I regained control of my breathing. As my heart rate lowered and the sound of blood rushing through my ears subsided, I heard him say softly:

"I could never leave you Y/N, I can't...you mean to much to me..."

I didn't know if he realized I heard him, but it made me relax into him a little more. We didn't move for I don't know how long, just holding each other, breathing in sync. I could feel myself start to get sleepy, and began to slump more and more into him. He could feel the wait of me on his chest, and softly laid me back into the bed. When I was settled in, he started to scoot backwards towards the edge of the bed, before I grabbed his arm.

"Stay. Please. Stay," I barely whispered.

He looked down at me, tucked under the covers in an oversized t-shirt with my hair a crazy mess around my face. My eyes were glassy and red from crying, but my grip on his arm was sure.

"Please Buck."

I pulled back the covers next to me, signaling the invitation that I meant it.

He was only in a T-Shirt and boxers in himself, but nevertheless, he climbed in anyways. As he slid down, I pulled myself into him, hugging his torso as the scent of his fabric softener filled my nose.

He wrapped his arm under my head and around me, the other to my back, sheltering me from my nightmares as I drifted back to sleep. When I woke up, my head was resting on top of his chest, his hand still in my hair. I could count his steady heartbeats over time, our breathing once more in time together. I glanced up to see his stubbly face, in a serene sleep. I had heard him up late at night, wandering in the living room. I am sure he had nightmares like me, but I was the unlucky one to have the first terror while we were roommates.

I couldn't help but realize that he put a shirt on.

He never wore a shirt to sleep.

I knew this because I had woken up a time or two to go to the bathroom, and he would be there, on the floor, practically shining as the moonlight radiated off of his skin. It was almost impressive.

So he put a shirt on when he came in to help me last night. I guess it is respectful of him. I mean, everything about last night, or at least what I could remember, made me feel safer than I had in a very long time. Bucky always made me feel safe, but now, lying on his chest, it was deeper than two former soldiers-it was intimate.

I couldn't stop myself, I inched slightly up, lifting my head to his face, practically nose to nose. I could feel him exhale as the air left his nose and tickled my face. I leaned down, just off to the right side of his mouth and softly kissed him. I couldn't kiss him on the lips, but I needed to put it out there, even if he was asleep. I laid back down next to him, facing the ceiling as I felt him softly stir next to me. I tried to discreetly roll away, my body turned away from him, screwing my eyes closed.

I could feel the bed shift underneath me as he awoke. I could feel him leaning over me, checking to see that I was "asleep". Then, I felt his lips on my forehead, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple.

"You can't get away with it that easily Y/N"

My eyes slowly opened, as if afraid I would see it was all a dream, and he wouldn't be there. Instead, he was looking down at me, his head cocked to the side with a crooked smile dancing on his lips. Concern was etched on my brow, though my mouth betrayed me in a half smile as I stared back at the blue eyed soldier.

"I uh-I didn't, uh, mean to wake you Bucky, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," I stuttered out, worried that I might have made him feel pressured to return the favor.

I was surprised when his arm reached for my waist, pulling me from my side to my back as he rested his hands on either side of me. Trapped underneath him, my train of thought was so far off the rails, my ability to even speak was completely hijacked.

"Y/N, you have no idea how long I had been waiting for you to do something like that," he confessed. I quivered underneath him, my only response to his words. He was now hovering above my torso, propped up on his forearms as he continued to ramble.

"I never wanted to pressure or impose anything against you. I thought that you felt it too, and I wanted to be a gentleman, but with last night and you wanting me to stay, and now this morning..., I just wanted to make sure that I am reading the signals right an-"

He was cut off by my hand on the back of his neck, pulling him up to my face where our noses connected once more. His eyes were piercing, searching mine frantically before I closed them and pulled him down. Our lips attached to one another, fitting together softly, one on top of the other. His arm slid underneath my back and pressed me into him as my arm wrapped around his neck, my other hand holding his face. I could feel the metal against my waist, but it was warmer than usual, probably due to being under the covers all night. After years of torture and pain for the both of us, this kiss made terrors of that night worth it. It brought him and I together.

As we pulled away, our lips still stuck to the others until there was enough distance to truly focus our eyesight on the other. Pupils dilated, chests rising and falling against each other, our status shifted from roommates to something more in seconds. Maybe we were always something more and we hadn't realized it until now. But none of the what ifs mattered now. Now, there was a certainty that Bucky and I had a future together.

-------

A/N: This made me cry. A lot. The angst, the coping skills, the little sparks of chemistry. I just love writing about this man. He is everything a girl could ask for. I will start writing a part two tomorrow and I can promise you, it is about to be a lot cuter, a lot smuttier, and a lot more BUCKKKYYYY.

Taglist: @n3ssm0nique @arctic-duchess @bluemoon-icecream

[sheliesshattered]

Top third or so of the pleated panel is sewn down!

I tried out a couple of different methods for handsewing this to the shoulder and sleeve, but after a few inches of each, the 'stitch in the ditch' method was the clear winner. It's basically invisible, and lets the piping stand up as it ought to. I'm doing a stitch about every 1/8th inch, and keeping most of the distance on the top so that the stitches inside the sleeve are as small as possible, and won't get caught on things. I'm getting faster with the technique, so I'm hoping to buzz through the rest of this sleeve and the other one over the next few days.

But I'm also going to be interspersing this sewing with starting on my vest scratch build. I was able to find the pattern I made for my vest for The Moment way back in 2014 (it was exactly where I thought it would be, hurrah for keeping old patterns), and I spent some time staring at the existing vest in the mirror and pin-marking the changes I would like to make.

There are enough small changes that I'm going to just draft a new version of the pattern using the old one as a guide. But there are only the four main body pieces that really need re-drafting, and once it's something I can try on then I'll figure out how I'm doing the new collar (so it doesn't look so much like a motorcycle jacket), and I might just drape the new collar on me while I'm wearing the in-progress vest.

Over the weekend I also went though my stash looking for fabrics that have enough yardage (or at least big pieces) to cut out the body of the vest, and after comparing all those to the pieces I know I'll definitely be wearing as part of my Batuu Bound -- gray hooded wrap, brown leather belt/bag/gloves, and black leather-look leggings -- with Jack's help I decided on some lovely dark navy linen that I've had in my stash for years, left over from a dress project. It's on the heavier side for linens, but not quite as stiff as the canvas the Moment vest is made from, but I think it'll work nicely.

I'm going to stick with the basic lines from the Moment vest, including the diagonal cross-body closure. After noodling on this for a week or more, what I've decided to do is a shorter zipper that ends around underbust level or just slightly higher, and then a flap over that with either no visible closures, or some cool looking Star Wars-y buckles or something. I have a few ideas for that, but I won't make any decisions until I can try the new vest on. The separating zipper and the thread for this project have been ordered and should arrive before I'm anywhere close to needing them. Pics on this whole vest project as it develops.

Beyond that, I need to add a tiny dot of glue to a pendant that I made (in the upper left of the photo -- it looks a bit like Jyn Erso's kyber crystal necklace, but smaller with more of a blue tone to it) to make sure the wrappings stay attached. I still want to figure out something to cover the lacings of my big Doc Martens, either wraps over the whole boot or a suede panel that snaps onto the lacings or something of that sort. I've started to gather other accessories, and there are a couple of things I want to order (in particular my Captain's License, once I can settle on a name and spelling for my OC, lol).

I have a long sleeve shirt to go under the vest that works with my color pallet, and an idea (and fabric) for another shirt I could sew, but the weather has been so all over the place lately (80 degrees and sunny! no wait, 60 degrees and rainy!) that I don't want to put too much effort into the shirt until I've got a better idea of the weather we'll have 4 weeks from now. Finishing Jack's jacket and making my vest are definitely the priorities.

4 weeks to go! Hokay, I've got a pile of linen scraps to go iron.

[shatouto]

bare his neck on the execution block

[gen fic, 2.5k. obi-wan and anakin discusses ahsoka’s apprenticeship early on. vent fic + character study, sort of. read on ao3]

“…I can’t do this anymore.”

Obi-Wan glances up. Anakin has uttered those words so quietly, so unlike his usual tone of voice when he is upset in some ways. There is none of that off-kilter lilt of minor irritation, nor the somber reverberation of suppressed but boiling rage in his voice. He sounds… defeated, the resignment almost nothing like Obi-Wan has heard before – and that is saying something, considering the ten-odd years they have broken bread and shared quarters and matched blades. Concern sinking coldly in his stomach, he stands up, paces over and settles beside his former apprentice, setting a hand on Anakin’s back in a tentative offer of comfort.

Anakin doesn’t really respond, just slumps lower, his forehead propped against his fingers, his face hidden behind his hands. Obi-Wan keeps his frown to himself, merely brushing his hand up and down Anakin’s back. He has a thousand guesses as to what Anakin means exactly, and no less than nine hundred of them would pertain to this grueling war that has covered their life in a grey pall. But assumptions are the enemy of comprehension; one who speculates will judge instead of listening at all, whereas Obi-Wan strives to be a good listener first and foremost. So he merely asks, “Would you like to talk about it, Anakin?”

Anakin lets out a slightly shuddery sigh. Obi-Wan studies him for another few moments of a silence that is not quite tense, just somewhat suffocating, like the humid air before a rainstorm. His eyes wander from the guarded curve of Anakin’s shoulders to the exhausted slouch of Anakin’s back. Between the back armor plate and ringlets of baby hair at the base of his skull, a pale strip of skin is exposed where his neck slopes like a prisoner bowing over the execution block. Obi-Wan shudders and pushes the intrusive macabre image all the way down to the bottom of his mind. He must focus on the here and now, especially the irregular pulses that spread from Anakin’s signature into the fabric of the Force around him like the throb of a dull ache.

“Ahsoka…” Anakin trails off just as he begins, but the fact that he opened up at all is already a relief. Obi-Wan says nothing, only brings his hand up to cover Anakin’s nape, giving it a grounding squeeze, in a way shielding it from the phantom blade that still haunts his mind’s eye. A minuscule intake of breath – too sharp, too much like the ghost of a sob for Obi-Wan’s liking – preludes Anakin’s wavering voice.

“I can’t—can’t train her, Master.”

Obi-Wan blinks, brows shooting up in surprise. Anakin and his own Padawan haven’t had the easiest of beginnings – what with Yoda’s doublespeak orders that led to misunderstandings and unpleasant surprises on the part of young Master and Padawan both – but Obi-Wan was almost sure that they have smoothed things out between them since. He doesn’t doubt Anakin’s care for his apprentice and Ahsoka’s respect for him likewise.

“I was under the impression that Ahsoka has been making great progress under your tutelage,” Obi-Wan says in a hushed tone, tilting his head down a little, not to force eye contact with Anakin but simply to suggest Anakin to turn to him. “What makes you say so?”

“Everything,” Anakin grits out at once, his voice taking on a watery edge. He slumps down lower, full on burying his face in his hands now, and Obi-Wan’s heart twists. “She’s been making progress because she’s just that good, Master. I didn’t do anything… She’s already trained in the reverse grip before I even taught her anything, remember?” Anakin gives a brittle laugh, breathless and humorless and fooling no one, least of all himself.

Obi-Wan bites the inside of his lips, his forehead creasing deeply in frowns as he shifts closer and slides his arm around Anakin’s shoulders in reassurance. “Lightsaber techniques are not nearly everything about being a Jedi, and you know it, Anakin. She needs a Master—”

“Then I’m not what she needs! I’m not a Master!” Anakin’s voice climbs to a near-cry. He takes in a shaky, stuttery breath and suddenly turns towards Obi-Wan, his eyes red-rimmed and downcast, a miserable frown etched into the downturned corners of his mouth. “I can’t pretend to be one anymore. I can’t take this anymore!”

Anakin’s pain pierces through his word and lodges into Obi-Wan’s heart as well. “Anakin…”

“There’s so much to do. I have to lead my battalion, I—I have to fight this war. We all have to, but I… I don’t know! I can’t do so many things at once! I can’t do right by her like this,” Anakin continues, sniffling, his flesh hand clawing into his gloved one so hard that his fingers blanch from the pressure. “I’m just—I just got Knighted this year, I don’t know anything about this. Aayla is even older than me. Why did <i>I</i> have to be the one to take on a Padawan? What, am I the only Knight in the Order who’s available to take an apprentice? I don’t get it. Anybody could have taught her better than I do.”

“Anakin, that isn’t true—”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Anakin unceremoniously cuts him off, his voice dripping with dismissal and disdain – at himself. He glares up and flinches back as soon as he meets Obi-Wan’s eyes as though only realizing then what he has been trying to hide. His gaze immediately drops, but by then Obi-Wan already saw the furious tears in his eyes. “Don’t lie just to reassure me,” Anakin mutters, roughly dragging his hand over his eyes. “Anybody else would’ve been better for her. You know that, the Council knows that, Ahsoka knows that.”

Anakin droops completely, and Obi-Wan finds it somehow both relieving and alarming that Anakin isn’t pushing off. Anakin’s need for comfort – physical comfort, especially – is nearly always at war with Anakin’s need to prove himself capable of handling everything on his own. This certainly isn’t unique to him; what is unique to him is the intense manner in which he feels, no less aggravated by the expectations that he carries on his shoulder and his incredible attunement to the Force. This is not the first time Anakin has broken down in tears from the stress of it all – his words, in fact, distinctly remind Obi-Wan of that one occasion, years ago, where he begged Obi-Wan to quiet the noise in his mind and take away the burden of being the Chosen One – but the pain it brings to Obi-Wan’s chest is the same.

“I’m sorry, Padawan mine,” Obi-Wan murmurs, squeezing Anakin lightly. He regrets making light of it when it turned out that Ahsoka was to be assigned to Anakin instead of him, to the young Knight’s surprise. He regrets taking it for granted that Anakin would just find a way to get along with this fourteen-year-old Padawan – an adolescent chock in the middle of her rebellious years and prone to challenging any authority, especially the one closest to her, the most insecure and inexperienced figure of authority, the easiest one to snip and quip at. At least when he took on Anakin as a Padawan himself, Anakin was only nine – unsure and outright frightful of his new life, but sweet and earnest – which allowed Obi-Wan a period of respite before the boy’s childish idolatry turned into a teenager’s testiness and brooding.

It’s easy to see Anakin as older than the nineteen-year-old he is; easy to believe him as capable and competent as he tries to prove himself to be; easy to consider him as bearing the full responsibility of a Jedi Knight and more, for being a prodigy, for having accomplished what he had. It’s much harder – and much more painful, especially for him who loves Anakin so – to dwell over and over on the fact that Anakin struggles in ways that one can neither fathom nor help with. There are burdens Anakin cannot share with him, phantom blades that will hurt Anakin only even if Obi-Wan volunteers to bare his neck on the execution block in his stead.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan repeats. “I did not know you were suffering. I should have stood up for you – and I would, had you objected the apprenticeship.” He pauses for a moment, rubbing up and down Anakin’s arm in soothing motions. “Why did you not say anything?”

Anakin leans limply against him, the remaining tension in his body suggesting exhaustion rather than relaxation. Obi-Wan simply holds up that weight with his own. He has always thought of it this way: if he cannot bear his former Padawan’s burden for or with him, then the least he could do is to provide shelter, absorb his hurt, cushion his fall. He would embrace Anakin’s fire with both arms until all the stars in the universe have burned out, and even then.

“I didn’t want to,” Anakin shudders out the words, turning and hiding his face in the crook of Obi-Wan’s shoulder like he’s a Padawan again and Obi-Wan welcomes the gesture like ocean waves cradling the setting sun. Anakin often hid in closets or even cracks in the wall as a child – until he apparently discovered that the safest hiding place in the universe was where he could tuck his head under his Master's chin and let himself be covered by Obi-Wan's great billowing sleeves. “Didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She’d feel rejected,” Anakin mumbles. “And… I don’t know. It felt like a mission – being her Master, I mean. I don’t—I don’t want to refuse a mission.”

“Anakin, you…” Obi-Wan lays his cheek atop Anakin’s head, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment in frustration at himself. Inane question, Kenobi. Of course he would not even try to say no to the Grandmaster’s order. This is not the time to think about who to blame, yet Obi-Wan cannot help feeling immediately at fault. He knows and has always known Anakin to be this way, ruled by not only pride but a deep-seated fear of being seen as anything less than utterly competent and fearless. He knows better than most, and so he should have known better. Of all people, he should have been the one to check on Anakin, discuss his feelings with him, speak up for him.

And how hard must it have been? How hard was it to earn the respect of someone barely five years your junior? How hard was it to assert your authority over someone you would rather just be a good friend to, just because you need to prove yourself to the authority above you? How hard was it to do all of that while trying to grow into the too-large mantle of General of the Republic, at the age of nineteen?

“Forgive me, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers, shattering inside out – from guilt and in empathy. “You are not wrong – it was a difficult and awkward situation you were in. I’m truly sorry. I wish I had come to your aid sooner.”

“I feel like I never got to be a Knight,” Anakin mumbles into the crook of his neck, his voice nasal and dangerously close to cracking. The confession is a bolt to Obi-Wan’s heart. It was how he’d felt as well, when he took Anakin under his wing immediately after his hasty graduation that followed Qui-Gon’s death. But at least it was a choice he made himself – a choice he doesn’t at all regret, looking back. He can say so with surety and fondness. Can Anakin even say so about his own apprentice? Anakin didn’t have any say in the matter to begin with. Even if he has grown close to Ahsoka, he is clearly tormented by the responsibilities that have been thrust upon him.

“It’s not like I don’t like her,” Anakin adds all of a sudden, shuffling up a little bit, clearly disquieted by Obi-Wan’s pensive silence. “She’s brilliant, I just… I’m going to fail her. I know I will. I’m not you. I wouldn’t have been able to do this even if I were twenty-five and she was nine.”

“Anakin, no,” Obi-Wan firmly hushes, frowning. Comparisons hurt. A comparison without context can poison self-perception like nothing else. He wraps his arms tighter around Anakin. “Please do not say such things. We are different – because we are different people. Look—Can you look at me, Padawan?”

He cradles Anakin’s face, and Anakin looks up through matted, darkened lashes, slightly biting down on his lower lip. With a tone as gentle as he can possibly muster, Obi-Wan speaks.

“If you’re thinking you aren’t capable of being a Master, or a good Master, then I assure you that isn’t true. I have seen your capacity for teaching, both in your methods and the results thereof. You have made progress just as Ahsoka did. I have faith in you, Anakin. However”—Obi-Wan absentmindedly wipes half a droplet of tear at the corner of Anakin’s scarred eye with the pad of his thumb—“what matters is whether you want to continue this apprenticeship. You are capable, but being capable of doing something doesn’t necessarily mean you have to force yourself to do it. Do you understand?”

Anakin watches him with a wariness that has Obi-Wan’s heart aching almost physically. It pains him so, when Anakin feels the need to tread carefully when speaking to him; he’d rather Anakin balk and brag and act brash than this. “I do, Obi-Wan,” Anakin utters syllable by syllable, chewing on his lip. “I just—don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

His voice is rough and fragile at the same time, tearing at the raw edges like a gauze that Obi-Wan wishes he could singlehandedly hem. Anakin looks drained, with circles under his eyes that suggest he would’ve looked ashen if it wasn’t for the flush of fury and frustration from earlier, and puffed-up eyelids that look ready to shut for the rest of the day. Obi-Wan holds back a sigh and brushes Anakin’s hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear.

“That’s alright, Padawan mine,” he says, prompting Anakin to draw closer to him with a light touch. Thankfully, Anakin does, and finally wraps his arms around Obi-Wan in a returning embrace this time. “That’s quite alright. You don’t have to decide everything right now. You can take your time and rest – you’ve done enough.”

Anakin lets out a sigh so deep that Obi-Wan can physically feel the way his chest constricts against his own body. He wraps Anakin’s signature with his presence in the Force, lighting up candle after candle in the gloomy aftermath of the hurricane. Anakin shudders, and whispers. “Thank you, Master.”

“Anytime, dear one,” Obi-Wan says against the crown of his head, softly stroking his hair. “I’m here. I’ll be here.” And I will stay by your side for as long as you will have me. Here I am and here I shall remain, be it to hold up the night sky before it crumbles in your chest or patch up the stars that burn and bleed from invisible blades. I will, until the day I cannot do it any longer.