Here are the finished images of the reversible baby blanket i made.
Again, this was made as a fan art/congrats to Michael and Lindsay Jones of Rooster Teeth since they are expecting a baby. They are both awesome people and i wanted to make them something as a ‘thank you’ for BEING awesome and just for kicks.
Unfortunately, while i know it arrived via tracking the package itself, i still don’t know if they opened it or not. :/ Kind of bummed about that. I want to know if they like it/if it arrived safely/if jeremy dooley stole it because it’s about the perfect size for him.
I had never done anything like this before with it being a reversible blanket so. As far as a technical aspect goes, it wasn’t hard per say but it was a bit tricky to line it up for the actually quilting part of it. Thank god for water soluble thread. I used that with the Ruby side to bast stitch that to the batting (mid-weight fleece) and to give myself a sort of grid to line up with for adding on the Achievement Hunter side.
My camera doesn’t pick up the quilting thread itself because i used a transparent thread. It was that or black thread, and i thought that with all the black fabric already in there, it might be too much.
Final size was a 35 inch square, made with 100% cotton for the patchwork and common fleece for the batting. Both logos were appliqued with Heat N Bond lite and reinforced with 100% cotton thread blanket stitching. Total work time was about 22 hours. :D
There are a few different ways to end a zipper that you want to shorten or prevent from separating on the bottom. Here is my current favorite technique! In my previous guides I’ve used glue or webbing, but I have been doing this instead and I like the finish of this much better!
Above, using a sewing machine (hand stitching is also possible!) sew a scrap of fabric over the zipper teeth just above where the slider is supposed to separate or where you would like your zipper length to end. If you have a printed fabric or minky, like I am using, orient your fabric so it is “wrong” side against the zipper teeth.
The fabric will be folded over the zipper like so.
Here is how the opposite side looks after that first stitch. You can now trim your fabric piece smaller. To get a tidy look, folding in the end your fabric will achieve that.
You can also fold the sides in on your fabric too.
Here is both the ends and the sides folded in, ready to sew. If it helps, you can pin or clip your zipper end to keep it in place until you can sew it.
Do another line of stitching over the zipper teeth to sew the folded in end down.
You can leave your sides un-stitched until you install your zipper into your project! Once you sew your zipper down to your project, you can sew over the ends and it closes them up very neatly.
I hope this zipper ending technique is useful for your projects! Enjoy!
Chloe, Keeshond (4 m/o), 74th & Broadway, New York, NY • “She bit something and broke her baby teeth and has some stitches in her mouth. She likes playing with everyone but she can’t while she’s healing.”
Summary: James Barnes is the strongest and youngest Laird in Scotland. He’s starting to learn his family’s trade but he can’t seem to focus with only one thing on his mind, the cute healer that’s his mother’s apprentice, you.
The word lair is a designation afforded the owner of a large estate in Scotland, it is the Scottish word for lord, but holds no nobility or power.
I also have zero knowledge on Scottish Lairship. I’m using the information I looked up on google and my imagination, please be gentle if stuff if inaccurate.
Mo ghràdh: scottish gaelic for my love.
Word Count: 2.3k+
Warnings: swearing, lil bit of angst, lil bit of fluff, brief mentions of smut & sexy times but nothing explicit.
This was bad, very, very, very bad.
I had fallen head over heels in love with the head Lairs’ son, Lair James Barnes. I know that they technically hold no power because they don’t have noble blood coursing through their veins, but they owned nearly of the land in the Highlands, even though Queen Mary controlled the entire nation. They had money and unintentional power, and that’s dangerous. I’m just a simple girl that’s learning how to become a healer. I had no intention of falling in love with him. It just… happened.
Can you please do a Dean x reader smut, where the reader is a vampire and Dean has feelings for her, and she likes him too, but he doesn’t know. Then Dean and Sam return a little injured from a hunt and the reader sees Dean shirtless (because he was stitching a wound or something, I don’t know) and she just loses it and kisses him,that leading to smut. Also, it would be amazing if Dean lets the reader drink his blood while they are having sex,and he kind of enjoys the pain(if it’s not too weird)
Triggers: Smut. Blood/Injury Kink. Biting.
Word Count: 2021
“You sure you guys will be okay?” You asked, getting a bit antsy as your eyes flashed slightly.
Dean smiled to you and shuffled your hair. “Relax, Y/N. We got this. Just be sure to draw the curtains in so you don’t burn up.”
“It’s not like that, Dean,” You growled, playfully flashing your fangs at them.
Dean waved his fingers playfully at you. “Oh, what? Gonna bite me?” He teased. Sam smacked his chest to which you snickered as your fangs retracted. “Seriously though. Try to get some rest, Y/N. You were busting ass pretty hard.”
“Just be careful. If anything happens, call. I mean it.”
“We’ll be fine,” Sam said before kissing your head. You smiled as his scent hit your nose. “Stay inside.”
i write for you to be that starry-eyed six-year-old again, throat full of moonlight, wishing on dandelions because you know dreams always come true. i write for you to remember how it felt the first time you fell in love, seventeen and wide-eyed, your heart tender in your mouth and your hands clasped like earthquakes against your thighs.
i write to rip out your lungs. i write to steal your breath away until your chest aches and you know what longing tastes like seized between your teeth. i write to pick apart the stitches in your heart and remind you that bleeding is okay—maybe it’s not beautiful like the poets would have you believe but it’s testament that you are alive, and isn’t that glorious enough?
i write to make you drown. then, i take your hand and teach you how to swim.
Relationship: Edmund x Reader, Caspian x Reader (platonic)
Author’s Note: Edmund is my absolute weakness, writing this was an absolute pleasure to.write, and I hope you enjoy it
“For Narnia.” You whisper to yourself as you leap from a window and onto the back of a Telmarine soldier. The two small daggers attached to your forearms go into his neck quickly, making it easy for you to jump to a new target.
You roar out in anger and speed up your movements when you see a minotaur fall to his death. Your particularly loud battle cry draws some attention, Prince Caspian being amongst the heads to quickly shift your way before going back to watching their attackers. Caspian though, doesn’t put all of his focus back on his assailant, he quickly does away with the guard before slashing his way to you. “Y/N, what are you doing? You have studies here, a job, they will surely not let you back in with good graces after seeing you fighting alongside me.”
His words almost make you stop completely, but the sword aiming for your throat keeps you in action, “Caspian, these people are no people of mine if they wish you dead. Who am I to not fight alongside you, when even the extinct Narnians will?" Smiling wistfully at you, Caspian places a hand gently on your shoulder.
The moment is quickly ruined when you spot a Telmarine soldier behind Caspian, and he’s cutting the chain holding up the gate. "We need to go. Caspian, you need to get your men and go!” You yell, shoving the prince towards the gate. You aren’t far behind him, your arms and legs both moving furiously as you slash at soldiers and run with speed you had never known capable from within your body.
From the corner of your eye, you spot a particularly small satyr getting attacked, so changing your course, you go to the satyr’s aid, “Go! We have to get out now!” You shout, gesturing to the minotaur holding the gate open. The man nods his thanks to you before ducking beneath the gate.
Just as you get to the gate, the minotaur falls and tears spring to your eyes, for both the poor creature, and for yourself. There are other people at the gate with you, Narnians, but none of them have your focus. Your eyes are on Caspian, who is yelling for you, trying to go back.
Shaking your head, you lift one of your blades into the air, “FOR NARNIA!” The other Narnians join in your battle cry, all of you charging once more.
You know you’re outnumbered, and out-weaponed. What you don’t know, is that the griffin above your heads is holding King Edmund. Looking down at the scene below him, Edmund spots you, and though he doesn’t even know of your name, he does know that he can not bear to leave you down there to die.
“Do you think you would be able to get her without getting hurt?” He asks his steed. The griffin squawks out a reply, diving towards you on the ground. The hybrid manages to grab to just after you receive an arrow to the upper arm. You don’t have the energy to say or do anything on the flight to wherever the Narnians are staying, so you just stay as still as possible and focus on not crying.
* * * * *
You grit your teeth harshly as you pull the arrow from your arm. After having arrived, you immediately looked for a bit of privacy to stitch yourself. “You were very brave back there. Fighting your people for us.”
Looking up, you see the boy talking to you is the same one that plucked you from the fight. “Thank you.” You smile painfully. Putting your attention to the needle in your hands, you start to sew your wound shut, “Caspian told me that you’re a son of Adam. King Edmund the Just. Is that true?” You ask, glancing at him quickly at the end of your question.
Edmund clears his throat, before answering, afraid his voice will crack or squeak when he goes to speak to you, “Yes.” Is all he can manage before crossing the floor to be standing a little closer to you. “Well, King Edmund the Just, I am forever in your debt.”
This makes the young king furrow his brow, “What? What would make you say that?” He asks you with a scoff. With a quirked eyebrow, you hold the needle in it’s place so you can look the king in his face, “You saved my life. There were tons of Narnians, fighting a hopeless battle down there, just as I was, and you saved me, the one person fighting not even born into your people. Where I am from, something like that is worthy of eternal debt.”
Watching as you finish closing up your once gaping wound, Edmund shakes his head, “Well, you’re with us now, that won’t be necessary, and just Edmund is fine.” This makes you laugh - a sound Edmund never thought he’d love so much - before breaking the stitch string with your teeth and wiping your bloody hands on the men’s trousers you’re wearing, “Well then, Just Edmund the Just King, consider it a favor, instead of a debt. If ever you need anything, let me know.”
At that moment, Edmund could think of a thousand things he wanted from you, a kiss being amongst them - a sensation very new to him - but he settled on just one for now. “I’d like to know your name.”
Camden Town in the 1920s was practically a war zone due to all the gang activity. People had to be careful about what time they went out unless they wanted to get caught in the crossfire. Two years ago, Y/N Y/L/N started her practice in Camden Town and quickly became one of those careful people. She knew of the gangsters around Camden Town, but made sure she never came into contact with them and always had her own back. One night she had been forced to work late in her office thanks to a mountain of ridiculous paperwork. Most of it was redundant but Y/N was a perfectionist who could not put anything more than her absolute best into everything that she did. This was part of the reason she was one of the best doctors in England and also one of the things Y/N detested about herself.
“I just had to stay and fill out all this paper work,” Y/N muttered as she squinted behind her glasses in the poorly lit light of her office.
Janet, her assistant, had offered to do it, but Y/N had practically shooed her out of the office so that the young girl could have a fun weekend. Unfortunately, Y/N’s idea of a fun weekend involved nothing but sleep and tea. Just as she was signing her name at the bottom of the fifteenth page of another article, someone banged on the front door of her practice. Y/N jumped, dropped her pen, and grabbed the small black pistol she kept in her top desk drawer for emergencies. She remained calm as she stood from her desk and exited her office. The gun was extended in front of her as she passed Janet’s empty receptionist desk and entered the waiting room. The blinds of the office door had been drawn closed and the light was dim in the waiting room so Y/N couldn’t make out an outline of the person at her practice door. Said person banged against the door four more times, making her gulp a little.
“Who is it?” Her voice didn’t waver and she sounded confident in spite of her nerves.
“’s bloody Santa Claus,” a gruff voice called back.
In her experience, sarcasm was usually a good indicator that she wasn’t in any real danger. However, just to be safe, Y/N kept her pistol extended in front of her as she slowly approached the door and peeked out from behind the blinds. She nearly screamed when she saw the bloodied bearded face staring back at her but relaxed when she saw that he didn’t have any weapons. Y/N pulled away from the blinds, stuck her pistol in the back of her skirt, and opened the door. The tall, hulking man almost crashed into her arms, but managed to steady himself with the help of Y/N grabbing his shoulders. His black wool coat was torn on the shoulders and at the lapel and there were a couple of blood stains around either side of his ribs. His face was scratched up as well, but the man was still handsome.
“What happened to you?” Y/N asked.
“Business,” he said, a little blood spilling out of his mouth when he spoke. “Can you help me or not?”
Y/N nodded, feeling the caretaker inside of her take over. She wrapped her arm around his waist and he leaned on her for some support as she guided him into her examination room. Slowly, she helped him sit down on the sheet-covered bed.
“I am going to take your jacket off now, all right? Let me know if anything hurts.”
“Of course, doctor.”
Y/N tried to keep a gentle touch as she slipped his coat off his shoulders and arms before hanging it up neatly on the coat rack in the corner. She switched on the light in the room so that she could get a better look at her strange patient. When she turned the light on, the man looked at her and his blue green eyes widened.
“What is it?” Y/N asked.
“You’re a bloody bird.” He smirked, revealing his blood-stained teeth.
In spite of the warm feeling that spread throughout the pit of her stomach, Y/N ignored his comment and took his blood pressure and heart rate. She felt his eyes boring into her as she went through her basic procedure of checking with patients.
“What’s your name?” Y/N asked.
“Alfie,” he said.
“Well, Alfie, I’m going to need to take off your shirt so that I can get a better look at your injuries.”
“Sure that’s all you’ll be doing, love?”
She had to admit that most men in Alfie’s condition wouldn’t have tried flirting with her or speaking more than necessary. It showed just how much strength he had. Her nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons and she was as careful with taking off his shirt as she had been when she took off his coat. He had several stab wounds near his ribs, bruises all over his shoulders and upper back. Alfie had a considerable amount of muscle for his age and Y/N couldn’t ignore it. Also, Y/N couldn’t ignore the tattoos scattered across Alfie’s broad chest and back.
“It looks like you’ll need a few stitches. Let me know if you get uncomfortable at all, all right?”
“I’ll be fine.”
He managed to keep his chin up as Y/N disinfected all of the open wounds and was nearly silent when she began stitching him up. She caught him gritting his teeth a few times and shook her head.
“Experiencing pain is completely normal, Alfie, you don’t have to act tough. I have had grown men cry in here before.”
“They weren’t really grown men if they cried anyway,” Alfie said.
Y/N shook her head as she applied salve and tapped gauze over all of Alfie’s new stitches. “The lengths men go to solidify their masculinity will never cease to amaze me.”
“So I amaze ya?” Alfie teased.
“Not more than the average man.” Y/N put her stitching supplies away and cleaned off the blood from Alfie’s face, feeling her own burn up by the way he was staring at her.
“Tell me, how did you end up becoming a doctor?”
“Same as everyone else: studied hard, went to Cambridge, and got licensed. Is it shocking for you to see a colored woman as a doctor?”
“A little bit.”
“You would be amazed at what we can do when we’re not in a maid’s uniform.” Y/N dead panned.
“I didn’t mean it like that—”
“Well, you’re all cleaned up now. Try to stay out of any trouble and rest so you won’t tear open your stitches.”
And then you’d have to come back here, Y/N thought bitterly.
She threw away the bloodied Q tip and washed her hands. She should’ve worn gloves but she had forgotten them in the haste of trying to take care of the older man.
“Doctor, I didn’t mean to offend ya, I was just trying to make conversation. Personally, I don’t particularly care about the color of your skin since I think it adds to your beauty.”
Y/N was surprised at Alfie’s words and slowly turned to face him. They were quite sweet even though they weren’t articulated the best. His eyes seemed to apologize and she could tell that he was being honest.
“That was very kind of you, Alfie.”
“Thank you.” Alfie leaned forward a little. “You know, you never told me your name.”
“It’s Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.”
“Y/N, sounds like the perfect name for a doctor.”
Y/N smiled thinly. “Let me go get you some painkillers.”
Before he could answer, Y/N sauntered out of the exam room and walked over to the room where she kept all the medication her patients could need. She plucked a bottle of ibuprofen from one of the shelves and on her way back to the exam room, gunshots rang out far too close to her practice. The gunshots were quickly followed by yelling and more gunshots. She hurried into the exam room to find Alfie slowly getting to his feet.
“What are you doing?” Y/N swiftly helped him stand.
“I’ve got to go finish the business that’s going on outside.”
“I should’ve known you were in some shady business.” She put the pill bottle in his pants pocket.
Alfie turned to her. “Don’t worry, Doctor, you’re in safe hands. Some of my men are out front.”
“And it doesn’t sound like it’s going well.” Y/N grabbed her pistol from behind her and handed it to Alfie. “Here.”
Alfie’s eyes widened at the gun in his hand. “This is a bloody Colt 1903. Where’d you get this from?”
“It was a graduation present from my father. You’ll probably need it out there. Keep a good grip on it since it is pretty small.”
“What else are you hidin from me, Doctor?” He smirked.
“I’m just defensive is all.” Y/N slid Alfie’s coat on for him and helped him walk out of the exam room and into the waiting area. Outside, there were still gunshots, but they had gotten even closer. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” “You’re mad if you think ‘m letting you go out there.”
“You’re mad if you think I’m going to stand by and let a bunch of gangsters destroy my practice.”
Y/N stormed into her office and grabbed her Browning rifle from the closet that she usually kept locked. She loaded it and walked back into the waiting room. Alfie’s eyes were they size of saucers when he laid eyes on the rifle.
“Bloomin ‘ell,” he said.
“You can go outside first since that front door is the only way in and out of here. I’ll cover you best as I can.” Y/N set the weapon up properly in her hands and glanced up at Alfie’s stunned expression. “My father was a hunter and he taught me a few things.”
“Marry me.” Y/N rolled her eyes at Alfie’s words but did have a few butterfly flutters in the pit of her stomach. She had to focus at the task at hand, but it was nice to have impressed Alfie so much. When Alfie managed to exit the practice and evade Sabini’s—-due in part to Y/N covering him so well—-he was forever grateful that Dr. Greene, his usual doctor, had been in Switzerland at the time.
“Come on, Jason, are you really struggling here?!” Dick shouted, watching as you were pushing his hand to your side. “I can’t believe you’re going to lose to (Y/N).”
“Shut up,” Jason grunted, his voice strained.
You smirked, forcing your hand even further closer to the table. He let out a strained breath, barely managing to keep your hand from slamming his onto the table’s surface. Dick was cheering Jason on in the background, holding his phone to record the whole arm wrestling event.