#i can do just enough sewing to mend or hem garments

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

I have gorgeous yarn and I want to knit a shawl but I can't fucking figure out how to do an increase. It's impossible

[sarahthecoat]

this is so important, thank you op for gathering up those links! i am an independent seamstress, and i would say the bulk of my work is putting in new zippers and elastics, hemming, and mending.

i want to describe putting in new elastic, because i do so so much of that, and the elastic waist always gives out long before the garment wears out. it's tedious, and you need good light, a seam ripper or tiny razor, and maybe some magnification. but you can do it, or at the very least prepare your garment for your friend with the sewing machine to finish it in a few minutes.

in the garment industry, waistband elastic is usually sewn to the edge of the garment before being folded to the inside and stitched again, so there is a lot of stitching to remove. so settle in with a podcast or something, and start. use your seam ripper or tiny olfa razor to slip in between the layers of material and just cut the thread. sometimes you have to do it this way all the way round, but some garments use chain stitching, which pulls out more easily if you can get it "unlocked". this is where magnification helps! think about which direction the seam was sewn by the machine, typically with the edge toward the right and the rest of the garment toward the left, and the looper threads underneath.

then the edge of the elastic is probably serged to the edge of the fabric. this looks like one or two rows of straight stitches (on top), and two looper threads going back and forth and interlocking over the edge. if you can get the tip of your seam ripper under one of the straight threads (start with the one in the middle of the seam if there are two) you may be able to draw out several inches of it at a time, which will be faster and neater than having to cut every stitch.

the worst is when the original elastic is also sewn with extra rows of stitching, but these are usually chain stitching. just be patient and pick it all out.

there may be a few other bits of stitching, like where a label is attached, so pick those out too. then tidy away as much of the bits of thread as you can. a bit of sticky tape can help. if you like having the label to help you tell where the back is, safety pin it to the center back seam, out of the way, for sewing in later.

now for the new elastic, which will be in a casing, so next time it will be easy to swap out! my rule of thumb is to measure the person's waist, subtract 10%, cut that much elastic, and usually that's the right amount to feel secure but not too sqeezy.

if the garment is a knit fabric, it may not need this, but a woven fabric will need that raw edge overcast in some way. so at least a zig zag stitch, or a serged edge if possible. by hand, you could overcast it. use your judgement to catch enough material that it won't just pull out, a quarter inch should be good. you might also press 1/4" under and straight or zig zag that on a lightweight woven.

next, fold that edge back to the inside on the original crease, or a little more: around 1.25" is good for 3/4" elastic. sew close to the edge but not so close that you fall off. straight is fine for wovens, zig zag for stretch fabrics. leave an opening of 1.5-2" to insert the elastic.

if you don't have a bodkin, just use a big safety pin to lead the elastic through the casing. pin the trailing end to the garment so a couple inches are still sticking out, you'll want that end! when you get all the way round, check that the elastic isn't twisted. sew the ends together firmly. close up that little opening in the casing seam, and reattach the label if you like.

presto, new life for a garment you already have and like!

Resources for Mending Clothes

We toss out over 80 pounds of textiles each year. These textiles are often made of plastic materials (polyester, nylon), made in unethical conditions, dyed with harsh dyes that often get put into the rivers, etc. Even a single cotton shirt releases carbon emissions and uses tons of water. 

So the best thing to prevent the unsustainable growth of the fashion industry is to make sure that your clothing lasts as long as possible. To do so, mending clothing is a must. So here are some resources to help you learn how to do various things, such as sewing a button, to tailoring clothes, or even upcycling old clothing into new styles. 

* How to sew on three different types of button

* How to hand sew on a patch on a torn pair of jeans

* How to sew up a hole in an old shirt

* How to sew a simple T-shirt

* How to upcycle old clothing into new clothing

* More upcycle and sewing techniques

* How to repair a damaged sock

* How to do an invisible stitch

* 3 different stitches to work with for different results

* How to make a T-shirt smaller so it fits you better

* How to make repairs to your shoes

These are just a few of the things that you can do in order to make sure that your clothing lasts for a long time. Nobody wants to keep buying new clothing, as it is expensive and wasteful. 

So making alterations to your clothing, or fixing small holes hen you see them can be hugely beneficial to your wallet, to garment workers, and to the environment in the long term. 

[stiltonbasket]

so i binged all of renouncement verse in one go and lwj sewing clothes for a-yu was so sweet i was wondering if we could see him finally do that for wwx?

(brief author’s note: please please reblog if you can, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)

anon 2: maybe something about wwx getting things ready for the baby?? and lwj helps to feather their love nest a little more too (´• ω •`) like maybe carving a crib or making little clothes! they have advance warning about a baby for the first time ever!

anon 3: For Renouncement Verse: can we see WWX finding new hobbies such as sewing/embroidery to pass time and maybe even sewing their baby some clothes pls <3

__

When Wei Wuxian was a child—about seven years old, or six—he spent a week in bed after catching a mild case of lake fever, which rarely gave children anything worse than a headache and a cough. But lake-fever requires rest to heal, so the healers confined him to his room with strict orders not to move. 

Naturally, the young Wei Ying had disliked this immensely, and soothed himself by making kites for Jiang Cheng with his uncle until Madam Yu deemed him well enough to get up again.

“Did kite-making truly keep you occupied when you were sick, Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan asks now, so lovingly that Wei Wuxian nearly drops his needle and thread. “I thought you would have tried to run away and fly them as soon as you were finished.”

“How do you think I learned how to sew?” he laughs, tucking up the hem of a tiny blue gown and fastening it with a line of straight stitches. “I broke my leg once when I was around nine, and then I broke my other leg the year after that, so Shijie sat with me and taught me how to mend all the clothes I ripped whenever I went out to play. It was nice, even if I thought it was boring, and then I started to like it enough to keep going.”

Lan Zhan nods and sews another clear red bead onto the garment spread across his lap. Whatever his husband is making is far too large for little A-Lan, but it doesn’t seem to be the kind of robe Lan Zhan would wear. Lan Zhan prefers gowns in blanch-white and azure blue, and this one has plenty of pale red flowers scattered among all the blue threads and silver embroidery. 

“Is that for you?” Wei Wuxian wonders, putting the finished baby dress aside. “When did you start wearing red, sweetheart?”

His husband’s lips curl up into a small smile as he shakes his head. “It’s yours. To wear to A-Lan’s full month celebration.”

He gestures to the fourteen feet of pearly silk and its glittering su xiu stitching, which Lan Zhan had done partly by hand and partly with the help of a crafting talisman. The robe is covered in sparkling flowers and soft white clouds, with most of the blossoms raised above the pale fabric in beadwork; from his vantage point on the bed, Wei Wuxian can see crimson lotuses and pale blue gentians sewn beside a flock of silver-feathered birds the size of his thumbnail, so delicate and fine that he has to squint to look at the details in their wings.

“For me?” he hears himself gasp, reaching out to touch it. “Lan Zhan!”

“A-Yu will wear the robe I made him, so I thought you might like to match,” Lan Zhan says, looking up at him with so much adoration in his eyes that Wei Wuxian’s heart turns to jelly. “I will make one for A-Lan, too, but later on. It will be much faster, and there is no telling how much she might grow in the first month.”

Lan Zhan glances at the tiny socks in Wei Wuxian’s hands—a pair of little knitted things, made in dyed pink instead of blue or white because Xiao-Yu insisted on choosing the color—and goes back to his work, adding in a pair of clear leaves and berries on the sleeves of the festival gown.

“I must hurry,” he says apologetically. “We only have another week at most, and then there will be no time for anything but tending the little one.”

Wei Wuxian sighs in wordless agreement and picks up his two long knitting needles. It hasn’t really sunk in that he’s going to have three children instead of two in less than ten days, even though the baby never lets him forget her presence even for a moment, and part of him is deathly afraid of what lies ahead even if he will have Lan Xichen’s help when it comes to giving birth to her. 

He is also afraid of doing something wrong after she arrives, since A-Yuan and A-Yu were both old enough to walk and talk by themselves when he adopted them.

“She’s going to be so tiny,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around himself. “Lan Zhan, what if we—what if I end up hurting her? What if she cries and we can’t tell what she wants, or—or what if she gets sick, and we don’t notice? I’ve never even held such a little baby before. How are we going to do this?”

Lan Zhan takes Wei Wuxian’s hands in his and kisses them. “We will do it together,” he vows—and oh, it feels as if mountains would gladly level themselves at the sound of his husband’s voice, just so Wei Wuxian could have a clear road to walk on and sunshine to light the way. “When we do not know what to do, we will ask Shufu or perhaps Jiang Wanyin. And there are always healers, and my cousins who have had children.”

“Lan Zhan…”

And then Wei Wuxian realizes exactly what his beloved had said. “We can ask your uncle for help?”

“Xiongzhang was given to him to raise when he was only eighteen,” Lan Zhan explains. “There was a nurse, of course, but Shufu insisted he should bring us up if our parents were not permitted to do so.”

Wei Wuxian relaxes a little at the thought of practiced hands being near. “You hear that, A-Lan?” he chuckles, tapping his side over the spot where he last felt a nudge from the baby. “There’s no need to worry. Your shugong is here, and he’s better at this than your A-Die is.”

“Not for long. You will learn, sweetheart, and so will I.”

“You promise?” Wei Wuxian whispers. “Promise, Lan Zhan.”

(And Lan Zhan promises, as he always does, and kisses him until the last of his fears finally melt away.)

[murderousginger]

Where is your boy tonight?

John Shelby x Russian Maid

Warnings: Alcohol. Drugs. Cussing. Explicit. It’s a Russian orgy party. They’re criminals guys, they do bad things.

Word Count: 3,432

Note: ... Well this went raunchy fast. I’m not a smut writer... so like... I’m sorry ahead of time. I’m posting this before I lose my nerve. In other news, I see you John girls, and I absolutely adore you. I’ll be working on prompts as quickly as I can. <3

"Remember ladies,"

Tatiana Patrovna strutted around the room of half dressed women in her lace lingerie, running her fingers along one maid's back as she bent over to put on stockings, across another maid's arm as she straightened her skirts, looking over each and every woman. Each woman had to be perfect. The princess resembled a general overlooking her troops before war. In a way, Anna supposed she was. 

"These men don't know Russian women. They think women are soft. Vulnerable." 

Tatiana's wild eyes danced along every strap, every lace garment, every painted face in front of her. The duchess had hired the best whores as maids, and paid them well when the entire family left Russia to come to England. 

The staff already knew what was expected of them. The family was rich, bored. Bored Russian royalty was dangerous. The staff sated every whim. England would have crumbled by now if not, Anna mused as she watched Tatiana flit between each girl. She was already bored of this pep talk.

"Be who they want you to be," Tatiana's wide eyes shone dark as they darted around the room. "But when they cry in passion, learn from them. Then bring it to me."

Tonight was not a regular night. Three brothers were to join the festivities and every woman was to be on guard. Men often talked when their balls were empty and the lights were low. Men told secrets they wouldn't admit under torture. Men were weak that way. 

Anna was just another maid. Another whore brought over from the old country, here to entertain the wild family and whomever else she was instructed to. She had been with them for years, watching the parties grow wilder with each passing phase. 

In England, the family no longer seemed bored. Instead, they seemed like they could no longer return to what society would deem a normal life. Too many orgies, too many nights with a gun to their head laughing and hoping to find the correct chamber, too often feeling the rush of adrenaline and subsequent crash of psyche that came with the roaring highs of the drugs and sex. They were unhinged, mad with power, and she had decided long ago that she was fine with watching it play out. 

Anna's dark hair and features that were common back home held a sense of wrongness in England. They stuck out against those that looked carefully enough. So far she has only been allowed outside of the house once, to get food from the market. Her dark eyes had watched all of the England common folk bustle about with curiosity. How did they live in comparison? 

She had eyed a man with a fruit stand, watching him carefully as she traced over the options with her lithe fingers. He had nodded good morning to her and she smiled, lifting an apple from the stand and taking a large bite. She rolled the sweet fruit over her tongue as she decided to play with him. Why? Because why not. 

He started to tell her the price of the apple, and she gulped the bite down, playfully spreading the apple juices that ran down her hand along her exposed throat. Now it was his turn to gulp. 

She came back from the market late, with a bag of apples that she did not pay for and the knowledge that English men were far easier than she had imagined.

"Anna," Tatiana snapped, and she jerked her head out of her daydreams. "What did I say?"

Anna assessed the woman in front of her as she hiked her leg onto a chair to put her stockings on. She did not bother to have them perfect; they wouldn't be on long anyway. Tatiana watched her with cold eyes as she stepped in between her legs, her fingers dancing along Anna's knee and up the stocking to her inner thigh. Her fingers lazily played with the fabric between her legs as she waited for an answer. 

"You want us to fuck the three Englishmen within an inch of their lives, so they are ruined from their wives and tell us every boring secret they have," Anna sounded, completely ignoring the cool fingers that traced her. 

"No."

Tatiana teasing fingers swatted her. Anna flinched as the princess turned away and walked into the middle of the room. 

"I said, the leader, the one that goes by Thomas, is mine."

Tatiana glared at every woman in the room, waiting for defiance. None spoke up. 

"The other two, do whatever they want," she waved away the harshness she had just possessed. "What might blow their mind could be silly to you. Do it anyway, and do it with ferver."

A round of mumbled agreements echoed. The princess nodded, more to herself than the girls, and left without another word. The men were coming, and she had to get ready herself.

Anna finished putting on her maid  skirt and top and sat in the seat, waiting as the other maids got ready and gossiped among themselves. 

What could be so interesting about three Englishmen?

----

The Englishmen came through the doors with the princess and the duchess hours into when the party began. Murmurs between help warned that they had already been welcomed with mind games; the two royal women had stripped the brothers down to assess them, the men tearing buttons from shirts like wild animals. One or two maids had been given the shirts to mend already. 

Russian men had already started on vodka, cocaine, and women that morning. The party had already risen to the haze of fucking in the open, half naked women parading around as they like by the time the three Shelbys eyed the room. 

Anna had already entertained some of the men, but easily sloughed off their advances as the newcomers arrived. She had even managed to keep her maid outfit on. The stockings, however, had been long tossed into the fireplace. 

She watched the men, bug-eyed by the general activities of the den. 

"Fucking hell, Tommy," one breathed as he ran his hand along his neck. 

"Remember, play nice," the dark haired one said, clear blue eyes coldly looking around. 

Anna held her breath for the few seconds his eyes had looked at her. They were so calculating. That had to be the one Tatiana was after. 

"Sit with me, Tommy," Tatiana simpered, taking the dark haired man's hand and leading him to a couch. 

Another maid appeared beside the older looking brother with the mustache, leading him toward a chair. She brought him his own bottle of vodka. The last brother continued looking around the room, giggling uncomfortably but looking at everything like it was Christmas morning. 

Anna slipped past the duchess, who took her place by the fireplace to watch, and picked up an almost full bottle of vodka from a bucket of ice that sat beside one of the couches with an maid and a Russian man fucking slowly. She ran her hand along the Shelby brother's bicep and squeezed, a coy smile across her lips as he whipped his head around to see who had approached him.

"Would you like some company? Vodka?" Anna said, lilting her accent at him. 

His eyes looked over her outfit as she handed him the bottle of liquor. 

"Yuh," he said stiffly, eyes not leaving her hem as he cleared his throat, "sure. I was just about to ask those two men if I could enter their poker game."

"Then you will need me," Anna said as she wrapped her arm around his and led him to the table. "It is strip poker. The girls undress as you play."

"I didn't realize," he said, looking over the two bearded men sitting at the table with half dressed women on their laps. "Name's John. Yours?"

Anna pulled the chair out for John, motioning for him to sit. As he did, she made herself comfortable sitting on his lap, moving his arm to her waist. 

"He wants to play poker with you," she said to the men in Russian. "Deal him in. Let him win."

The men laughed amongst themselves and complied, throwing their cards in the center to start a new game. The women chittered on their laps but made no move to put clothing back on. Anna leaned against John, twisting to put her hand on his chest and her mouth to his ear. 

"They're starting a new game for you now," she said, feeling him gulp as her lips brushed his ear. "And you may call me whatever you like, John. Who do you want me to be?"

Anna trailed a finger along his neck as she leaned away to look him in the eye. John's blue eyes were wide and watching the table where his cards lay. With a deep breath he met her dark eyes with his bright blue ones. 

"Let's start with your name, yeah?" A playful smirk appeared on his face as his grip tightened on her waist. "And we'll go from there."

"Anna," she deftly moved his hand from her waist to her thigh along the hem of her short skirt as she leaned forward to pick up his cards and handed them to him. "Better drink to catch up. The men don't like sober players."

"Fucking hell," he breathed, handing the cards back to her and picking up the bottle he had sat beside his chair. 

He guzzled it down and the men made cheering noises, squeezing their women to their laps. One woman was completely topless, only her skirt and panties on while the man bounced her on his knee to watch her tits jiggle. The other woman had only her top and panties on, but her man had become impatient and was groping through her clothing as she giggled. 

Anna innocently shifted in his lap, trying to tempt John as he drank nearly a third of the bottle. His hand squeezed her thigh as a warning and she laughed as he set the bottle down. 

"That enough for you fucks?" He growled as he took his cards roughly from Anna's hands. "Let's play."

Anna would move occasionally in his lap, but used the game to watch the room. To watch the other brothers.

"I sewed your buttons back on," the maid said as she ran her hands across the older brother's chest, "I wanted to make sure I did a good job."

Arthur took a swig of the bottle of vodka in his hand as he watched her hesitantly. 

"You did a good job," he breathed.

She lifted a button up, circling it in her fingers deftly. 

"No, I did not."

The maid took the older his hand and guided him up from his chair and out of the room. Anna smirked. 

The other one, Tommy, the leader, was leaned on a couch, Tatiana laying against him under his arm. She looked bored.

"Why do you play games with people with no benefit to you?" Tommy asked, annoyance across his face as he took another drink from his glass. 

"In Russia because we were bored," Tatiana said succinctly. "In England because we don't know how to stop."

Anna moved on, ignoring the rest of the conversation to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She looked back to the table as John cheered, his arm squeezing her closer as he threw his cards at the table. 

"We won, Anna," he cheered again as she looked to the two sullen Russians for confirmation. 

"That means," she said, softly pressing his arm to release her, "that I no longer need my top."

Anna grabbed the fabric and lifted it above her head, throwing it to the topless girl on the other side of the table with a giggle. John's hand stilled on her thigh as he leaned back with a frown.

"When you win here," Anna said, twisting in his arms to face him, "your whore loses clothes, not your opponents." 

His ears turned a light pink as she shimmied at him with a laugh, her head thrown back. 

"There's rarely a game that doesn't end in fucking."

John's eyes were fixed on her, and she gave a throaty chuckle as his hand grabbed blindly for the bottle at the floor. He was attracted to her, at least. The pressure in his pants would not lie about that. He took another large gulp of vodka as the cards were dealt again. 

Anna watched as one of the men, the one with the girl who only had panties and a shirt on, began whispering in the girl's ear. She nodded, stood up and turned around to kneel before him and undo his pants.

She looked back at John, who tried to ignore the scene in front of him as he picked up his cards, but his eyes wandered to her bobbing head. 

A quick sweep of the room told Anna that Tommy and Tatiana were also gone. These brothers are shy, she noted.

The Russian men began muttering as John threw his hand at the table. 

"Won again," he said and looked at the Russian who muttered in front of him, his hands grabbed the back of the woman's bobbing head to bare her down on him as he gritted his teeth. Anna smiled, earning John's gaze that couldn't help but flicker to her chest before he met her eyes again. 

"Lucky for you," she said as she stood in front of him, topless with her hands at the waist of her skirt. "I have no underwear." 

She stepped out of the skirt and stepped closer to sit on his knee. His eyes were wide and his mouth slack as she straddled his leg facing him. She playfully grinded against his thigh, letting his eyes be glued to the motion, before she leaned back and took his new cards from the table. She stretched, watching his gaze travel up her naked body as she fanned his cards in front of her face to hide her smile. He was too easily shocked. 

"What happens if I win again?" He panted, licking his lips as he reached for the cards. 

Anna pulled them away from his reach and pushed herself up his thigh, twisting so their cheeks touched as she showed him his cards. 

"You, my Englishman," Anna said breathily into his ear. "Win all three of us, or whoever you wish. I can promise you, you want me."

John's eyes started to dilate as his mouth parted. 

"Oh."

The game, -- what little it could be called that -- was short lived. One man was completely engrossed in the lips around his cock, the other taken to pinching his maid's nipples until she screamed as she bounced on his knee, and John was uncomfortably frozen under Anna as she writhed on his thigh and moaned into his ear, completely breaking the concentration he was trying so hard to have on the card game. 

When the men finally threw all their cards down, John turned pale when the other men grumbled again and quickly became engrossed with their women. 

Anna looked over her shoulder to the cards on the table and smiled a Cheshire cat grin. 

"You won."

Before he could answer, she lifted herself from his soaked pant leg and grabbed his chin. He stood, meeting her eyes as she led him backwards, blindly reaching behind her for the door to a side den she knew was there. 

"You seem to be the type to want privacy," Anna purred. "Should I call the others?"

"No, no," John breathed, looking into her black eyes. 

"As I thought," she said and opened the door and led him in. She let go of his face as he stepped through the threshold.

John took a deep breath as he turned and  closed the door before he turned back to her. She was still so close, he went to take a step back and hit the door.

"Look, I--"

"Tell me what you like," she whispered as she pressed against him. 

"Have a wife, Esme--"

"She doesn't have to know," she said, leaning to run her tongue along the shell of his ear, "unless she likes to know about these things."

"No, she's just had a child--" he stuttered, trying to grab at Anna's forearms and push her back. Just a little space. To breathe. She was so close.

"So you've been without, poor man," she pouted mockingly, pressing against his hold. "Let me make it better. Do you love this wife? Do I resemble her?"

"Well you're both dark haired--"

"Do you love her?" Anna's eyes flashed as she smiled, grabbing his hand and pressing it toward her neck. "Do you hate her? Have you ever just wanted to squeeze the life--"

"Stop!" He bellowed as he pushed her back. He stomped past her, near the fireplace in the room, as he paced, muttering to himself and rubbing his face with his hands. 

Anna heard "fucking Russians" and "Tommy said they were fucking insane" mixed in with the rumblings, his tone frantic. He was coming undone at the seams, she thought, too much pressure and he'll break -- but not how Tatiana wants him to. 

She rushed to him, hushing him as she stopped his pacing. 

"That's enough, John," she soothed, his eyes wildly looking around the room at anything but her. "I'm only here to make you happy. What will make you happy, hmm?"

"Just let me fucking breathe, woman," he snapped as he stormed away from her. 

"Alright," Anna said as she crossed her arms and looked around the room. She shuffled in place uneasily, rubbing her arms as she began to notice the chill of the room. 

"Oh for fucks sake," he muttered, looking at her and then darting his eyes away as he took his jacket off. "Here, wear this, come to the fire. You must be freezing prancing around like that, yeah?"

She hesitantly came forward and allowed John to drape his jacket across her shoulders before she murmured a thanks and wrapped it tighter. 

After a few moments of silence, Anna dared to speak. 

"What now, then?"

John exhaled shakily, scratching his neck and stealing a sideways look at the Russian in his coat. 

"They expect you to fuck me, don't they?" He whispered. Anna hesitantly nodded, earning a nod in return as John ran his hand over his face. 

"And my brothers will never let me hear the end of it if I don't," he mumbled. 

"Do you… not like girls?" Anna said slowly. "I can call in one of the men--"

"God no," John laughed. "I just… it don't feel right…"

Anna shifted. 

"Is it me?"

John's eyes softened as he looked at her and smiled. 

"You're bloody gorgeous, darling," his smile turned lopsided. "It's not that."

Silence filled the air again. John exhaled.

"How about this," he said, his hands pushing the air down to the floor. "How about we walk out there and say we did. I'll tell them all that you sucked the soul out of me cock with those lips of yours, and you can tell your princess I cried like a little baby, or whatever will make her happy, yeah?"

Anna nodded. 

"We'll go out there, you can continue to be my girl for the night, and no one knows any different. Keep my coat till the morning if you like."

"Alright, John."

His face brightened and he held out his arm. Anna stepped forward and slid under it, smiling at the odd man at her side. 

"Let's go back, then."

----

"The old one," the maid said as she stood beside Anna as Tatiana ate breakfast at the table, "Arthur. He was hesitant but bred me like a dog. I think he whimpered a few times, but it only made him rougher."

Tatiana hummed as she drank her tea. 

"And the other?"

"The youngest one is named John," Anna said with a yawn. 

He refused to fuck me because he loves his wife, Esme, and they recently had a child. One of many. He was polite and attracted but wouldn't budge.

"What about him?" Tatiana snapped. "Out with it."

Anna frowned. 

"He was a fast lay," she said. "He came in my mouth after two strokes. He was so spent he never touched me after. He cries when he cums."

"How boring," Tatiana laughed. "I suppose I did save the best for myself."

"Yes, princess," the maids droned. They were dismissed with a wave.

[onegirlatelier]

Yellow floral blouse, June 2019

(This post is the longest I’ve written for this blog. No one is obliged to read it except me. Apparently, I am required to read and re-read it and, well, think.)

Guess who just finished her very, very first standard shirt, with cuff plackets and collar stands and all?

I am so happy, and relieved! No matter how badly the first one was made, it is a starting point after all. I am definitely planning to sew more since I enjoy both wearing a proper shirt and trying my best to properly make one.

Shirts are so common and ‘basic’, which makes the quality of patternmaking extra obvious. I prefer my shirt to be sleek and practical, with a touch of femininity. It means that whilst the cut should be smooth and fitted, it must not impair with everyday motions such as doing my hair or reaching for a book across the table. Preferably also taking a nap at the desk. The pattern pieces also need to be designed in such a way that when they are sewn together, the stress seams can actually hold some stress—which I interpret to be the reasonable use of grainline and a good set of stitching techniques.

Since I’m only at the beginning of this quest and there is still much to learn, this post is going to be a reflection, highlighting the adjustments that has worked for me and attempting to offer solutions to the current issues.

But first, let me start with the basic information for my shirt 1.0.

 Fabric

Cotton, with a very lovely yellow floral print. I have no idea if it is poplin, or lawn, or quilting cotton, or just the plainest plain weave. My local fabric stores often don’t have such labels, and even if there are, they might not be accurate. My grandma has never cared about the name of a fabric, and yet she made me dresses, trousers, and shoes that I wore one day after another until she decided that the fabric had suffered way too much friction to be mended. Sometimes it’s just an instinct when you roll out the fabric and feel it with your hands.

It feels like a good shirting fabric to me—medium weight, durable, and crisp. It was so badly off-grain when I prepared it for this project, but that was probably because it’d been carelessly thrown into a washing machine twice.

It was reclaimed from the very first piece of clothing I made (well, I cut it, my grandma sewed it), a robe à la française. Yep. That was such a wise choice for a first garment.

Anyways, I really love the fabric. Besides, it has been there so long, it properly smells like me.

I would like to also mention that the thread is cotton-wrapped polyester, in white.

 Design

I wanted to have all the usual details of a shirt to make sure that I would get the basics right. At the same time, I also wanted to taper those details to be the most flattering base. Basic but flattering. Strangely, it does make sense.

Here is a list of elements that I decided to include in my shirt:

Loosely fitted waist but not too roomy, especially in the back.

Moderately tight collar with a collar stand (cut in separate pieces).

One-piece button band for the right front piece, rolled edge+invisible stitching for the left front piece.

Six buttons, with the third (from the top) situated on the horizontal line connecting BPs. One extra button on the collar stand.

Two pleats per sleeve and a placket. Only one button for the cuff and no button on the placket.

One very slanted bust dart at each side, from the BP to the side seam.

Back yoke with self-fabric facing.

One inverted box pleat at CB.

Back hem ends lower than the front hem, with an overall soft curve.

Only topstitching when it’s absolutely needed, so one line on the back yoke seam and one line on each cuff.

 …And here we go. The actual patternmaking details (and adjusting, and adjusting, and adjusting…) I will write in the same order as the sewing process, which is like this:

Bust darts

Back yoke and shoulder seams, using the burrito method

Side seams

Sleeves and cuffs

Sleeve seams

Armscye seams (set-in sleeves)

Button band, both sides

Collar ad collar stand

Hem

Buttonholes and buttons

 (I start with a basic bodice block that fitted me okay but not perfect. My use of terms can be inconsistent and I apologise for that.)

 Bust darts

My original block has two dust darts per side: one towards the shoulder and one towards the hem. I ignored the one towards the hem for that moderately loose fit at the waist. Then I cut open the dart towards the shoulder, and rotated it to the side. It slanted down instead of hanging almost horizontally. The angled darts were longer and probably less stable, but I liked that it sort of made my lines flow smoother.

I forgot to add an ‘angle’ so the edge of my finish dart did not line up with the side seam. I couldn’t hide the raw edge in the French seam when doing the side seams. Stupid, stupid mistake. Fortunately the edge of the dart was cut on bias so it wouldn’t fray, but it certainly could’ve been more stable.

 Back yoke

(I did most alterations of the armscye before separating the back piece into two for the yoke design. My take on armscye fitting is described after the sleeve section below.)

I drew a horizontal line across the back to separate the back for the yoke, and it approximately connected the midpoints of the two armscye depth lines. My shoulder blades still feel somewhat restricted when I move my arms forward, so next time I will move this yoke seam higher up to make sure the protruding areas of the shoulder blades are below the yoke.

For the yoke, there was an inverted box pleat at the centre back. I pleated away 8cm for this. I have noticed that it won’t need to be this much if I widen the bodice (especially at the hem), but I’m not sure if I want to do that.

 Shoulder seams

I followed the block and just extended about 1cm towards the CF and the CB, so that the neckline sat closer to my neck. I don’t normally like such tight necklines, but since this shirt has a collar and I don’t have to button it all the way up, it’s okay.

When I tried on the toile things seemed fine, but when I wear the finished shirt, I can see that the seams are placed too far backwards, which partially has to do with my forward-tilting shoulders. I do believe that the first step to solve this problem is to correct my posture, but next time I will bring the seam just a bit forward. Given the tightness in the shoulder area, I may only need to lengthen the back piece and let the front piece stay as it is.

 Side seams

As I’ve written, I made the side seam on the front bodice almost vertical. It slanted a tiny bit outwards. Then I made the side seam on the back slant at the same angle. I would’ve preferred to have at least one side on grain, but I did have to accommodate the hip.

 Sleeves and cuffs

I can’t believe that it didn’t even come to me that Claire B. Shaeffer wrote about shirt sleeves in her brilliant book Couture Sewing Techniques. As a result, foolish mistakes were made.

I drafted the sleeve myself. That is, I had a vague idea of what a sleeve shirt should look like and read a few tutorials on sleeve drafting, but none of them made enough sense for me to follow entirely.

The first thing is that I don’t understand why the sleeve centre (the grainline) needed to be, well, in the centre. I simply couldn’t get the grainline to divide the bicep line evenly. The forearm section was shorter than the back section because

the entire back half needed to be roomier so that I can bend my arm

the back part of the armscye had a deeper curve and thus was longer

the sleeve had two pleats at the back of the wrist seamline and the centre line should hang straight instead of twisting towards the back

my shoulder tilts forward so the centre line needed to be moved forward too

I think reasons #1, #3, and #4 are pretty solid, so I stand by my unevenly divided bicep line. Reason #2 does have some problem, and together with an exaggerated convex curve on the back of the sleeve curve it resulted in a slight dragline on the back of the sleeve. To solve this problem, I will have to adjust the armscye first and I will write more about it in the next section (armscye).

I made the wrist seamline straight and horizontal to the bicep line, without even a shallow curve. This was so wrong. The sleeve needed extra length where I pleated it, because pleats shortened the sleeve and also more length would allow me to bend my arm more comfortably. Next time, the wrist seamline will have a nice, rounded S-curve. The convex point will be where the back line hits the wrist, and the concave point will be where the forearm line hits the wrist.

I also included 1cm of ease for the entire wrist seamline. I realised that the distribution of this 1cm mattered a lot. In my first trial, I distributed it entirely in the front section of the seam, and as a result, the sleeve seam was pulled forward instead of staying in place on the inside of my wrist. In the second trial, I distributed the ease mainly in the back section with just a little in the front. It worked out much better. The back section ended up a little shorter than the front, which may have contributed to the slight twisting of the centre line (towards the back), though the sleeve seam stayed in place. Next time I will add more width to the back wrist seam to make sure the back and front sections can both have some ease and end up having the same length.

I need to widen the section from the elbow to the wrist in general. Currently I can write or read a book fine, but I must sit upright and I cannot take a nap at the desk at all (my ultimate standard).

If I keep my arm straight, I can raise it to form an approx. 80 degree angle with the side of my body without pulling up the shirt, so the width at bicep line is pretty good. I am not sure if how much extra underarm bulk there will be if I lengthen the bicep line some more.

 Armscye

The most evil of all: the armscye. I don’t even know why it is so hard to fit armscye. The front section was fine, but the back section gave me a headache. It was so annoying to fit the back section because my very human body was not built in such a way that I could turn my head like an owl and inspect how everything hanged on my back. Anytime I did it for more than 30 seconds, I got dizzy as if I had had a carsickness.

There were two main problems: the first was that the mid-back section (where the yoke seam ended) had a gaping problem. I think it was partially due to my forward-tilting shoulders as well. I rotated the back shoulder dart to the yoke seam; this resulted in a little curve at either end of the yoke piece. I didn’t want to cut a curve on the back piece too since I preferred to keep the top edge of the back piece on cross grain. I thought my adjustment would be enough, but apparently the ‘dart’ could be a bit larger since the gap didn’t completely go away.

The second problem was that there was some wrinkles in the lower back section of the armscye. This problem remains unsolved and I’m a bit at a loss. It usually means I have made the armscye too snug, but I don’t feel like it’s too snug when I wear the shirt. (But to be honest the weather’s hot and humid, and my underarm area is currently sensitive due to hair removal treatments, so I am confused about whether the armscye is indeed too tight.) I have already made the lower-back curve quite a bit deeper than the original curve which I started with, so this might not be the problem. Maybe it can be solved when I solve problem #1, since the widened dart will pull the back piece upwards and thus eliminate the excess fabric which creates the wrinkles.

I think my back armhole might be curving too deep into the body. I couldn’t see my back so I don’t know the exact situation, but I think the upper part of the curve can be shallower, so it’s more like an L-shape than a C-shape. This way the arm movement is less restricted. I can maybe then make the convex curve on the sleeve less exaggerated and shorten the back curve a bit.

There is no wrinkle at the very bottom of the armscye, though, which means the armscye depth is enough. It’s just the shape that needs some more adjustment. I would like to keep the armscye depth as it is now to maximize the range of movement for the arm.

What I think I will do next time is that I will finish the whole bodice sans sleeves first (I have neither time nor material to bother with yet another toile), and see if my adjustments works out. I will adjust until it does, and add sleeves later.

Here is the back view, which illustrates the massive problems on the armscyes and sleeves:

I understand that sleeves can twist when they are hung like this. However, the two sleeves aren’t twisting in the same direction, which means there must be some kind of asymmetry. It might be a tiny error, but the effect is obvious. My assumption is that when the fabric is tauter in the front than in the back, the sleeve twists forwards. If it’s tauter in the back, the sleeve twists backwards. This means there is a difference of ease distribution between the two sleeves.

The back of the armscye cuts into the bodice. I don’t think the curve needs to be this deep.

The shape of the bottom of the armscye and the corresponding part of the sleeve curve can use some adjustment.

Button band

I cut the buttonhole band in one piece with the right front bodice. After some calculation, I pretty much just added a 5.5cm-wide rectangle to the CF of the right front piece.

Because I sewed the shirt by hand, I was able to work with very accurate measurements and narrow allowances. I managed to increase the width of the front bodice by 1cm, by adding 0.5cm towards the CF on either side. It fitted well. I will keep this in mind.

The button side was done like a wider two-time folded edge, as usual.

 Collar and collar stand

I read some tutorials and made my own adjustments. It worked out fine. When sewing the two pieces of the collar together, I tried using a tailor’s hem and my left hand to hold the two pieces in such a way that the undercollar was tauter than the uppercollar. This way the finished collar piece would naturally curve without wrinkling on the underside, and the seam wouldn’t be visible because the edge of the collar would be curving towards the body.

It is not enough to just use my hand to manipulate the fabric. I actually do need to cut the undercollar a tiny bit shorter than the uppercollar.

The same thing goes for the collar stand—the facing needs to be cut a little shorter than the outer layer for it to naturally curve around my neck. The problem is illustrated in the first photo of this post.

 Hem

I was being tight on fabric, so I had only 1cm of allowance for the hem and did a narrow invisible hem by hand.

I usually tuck my shirt hem into a skirt or a pair of trousers, so a shorter hem is fine as long as it can be secured tucked in. However, I would like to have a slightly longer hem next time

 Buttonholes and buttons

I followed the normal way of placing buttons. I had noticed that many shirts did not have a button where it was most likely to gap and result in awkward situations for a lady, so I placed a button there.

Overall, this is far from a perfect shirt worthy of the time spent on hand-sewing. However, I also gained an enormous amount of knowledge of shirt-making by slowly walking myself through this process. I went from having no idea at all to knowing what was considered good. Now I just need to figure out how exactly to achieve that.

[gold3nberry]

Dragon Age Inquisition Headcanons:

Nightwears - Companions & Advisors

(some parts can be considered nsfw-ish, I guess?)

Cassandra: she sleeps with an old pair of cotton trousers and a linen shirt one or two sizes bigger than hers. Her nightwears have to be practical, allowing her to bolt out from her bedroll in case of need or sudden attack. However, one of her best - kept secrets is a silken nightgown, very short and with a very low neckline that she saw once in Orlais. The shop was full of delicate garments and she was tempted to buy one, but she thought they were unsuitable and too frivolous for a warrior. The next day, she found the silken nightgown in her closet with a witty note from Leliana.

Romanced: she uses that garment to seduce the Inquisitor once their intimate relationship started. She lets him look at her, barking that she’s getting cold and she’s surely ridiculous, but she wants his opinion. His enthusiastic reaction makes her wear that nightgown more often.

The Iron Bull: he sleeps naked both in a tent and in Skyhold, point. He has no concern to have to jump out of the bed. He can face enemies fully undressed without flinching. To fight, he just needs his weapon, that always lays next to his bedroll. He makes sure to have an extra couple of blankets if he’s in a very cold place, and even if he shares a tent he’s not embarrassed to sleep without clothes, as long as the other person is fine with that.

Romanced: the Inquisitor always jokes about giving him a sleepwear, sooner or later, but Bull chuckles, knowing that they appreciate his lack of modesty. When the Inquisitor jokingly asks what type of sleepwear could tempt him, Bull winks and describes something made with more leather and chains than actual cloth.

Blackwall: he sleeps shirtless, but with an old pair of soft trousers on, plus a couple of socks he uses just for bed. He would hardly admit that, but he’s very fond of those socks he bought a long time ago. Despite being washed regularly, they have been mend many times by him. Every once in a while, he swears to buy a new pair, but he can’t find anything as soft as they are - or with the same shade of mustard yellow. He doesn’t like sleeping naked since someone could walk in.

Romanced: the Inquisitor finds actually amusing and a bit cute Blackwall’s affection towards an old pair of socks. She reassures him it’s a good thing he sleeps in that way since those fluffy things are perfect to warm up her cold feet.

Solas: he sleeps wearing a soft long-sleeved shirt and a short pair of trousers. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by cold or hot weather, never changing his outfit. Sometimes, if the inspiration hits him in the middle of the night, he paints in his nightwear, carefully trying to avoid any stain of paint and failing every time, waking up with blue and red and yellow spots on his shirt.

Romanced: he likes talking with the Inquisitor when they lay under the sheets. He scoffs when she chuckles about how soft the shirt is, but he also wonders if gifting her with one of his tunics would be too sappy.

Vivienne: she has quite a collection of nightgowns and nighties. Some of them she bought in Val Royeaux, others she designed personally for her seamstress to sew, and others are precious gifts from Bastienne. Every single one of her nightclothes is a masterpiece of silk and lace, an elegant triumph of silver or dark blue or white shades and ample sleeves or long hems encrusted with gems. She knows fighting in her night clothes won’t be a nuisance. She already did it once or twice.

Dorian: he sleeps shirtless, wearing just a comfortable pair of ample trousers, made of an obscenely expensive silk from Tevinter. He owns a few pairs of them, in different shades of gold and silver. They’re very soft, very expensive and very him. His true obsession, however, is the slippers, the ones that Rivaine, Tevene and Antivan use. Exquisite creations made of the finest leather, comfortable to walk around in the chambers, but also to lay down on the sofa reading a book. He has a few pairs, with different gems and embroidery for every season.

Romanced: he commissions a pair for the Inquisitor too, as soon as his Amatus recovers himself from the shock of their price. However, since they start to sleep together, Dorian discovers the joy to sleep naked, skin against skin with his beloved.

Varric: he doesn’t like sleeping naked. Bartrand had the habit to interrupt his sleep with this or that idea or just with drunk jokes, and Varric hated to get caught naked. Varric bought some pairs of comfortable dark cotton trousers in Kirkwall and, since then, he always buys them from the same merchant. He likes sleeping with just his trousers on, not his underwear, whatever weather it’s outside. Once, Bianca sent him a pair of luxurious pajama pants, a delicate thing he never uses. However, he keeps it in the closet, looking at them when he wants to brood a little.

Sera: she wears a huge shirt with more holes than cloth. It’s a thing that maybe once was red or dark pink, impossible to say. She grins that the colors don’t matter as long as it’s cozy and warm. She hates being cold and her improvised nightgown is the best thing she has found during her journeys. She refuses to wear anything else. If the weather is warm enough, she sleeps just in her panties or she simply takes off her breeches.

Romanced: she is delighted to sleep naked as close as she can to the Inquisitor, even if her lover’s breath is ticklish against her skin. It doesn’t matter, she keeps Sera warm enough. Sera offers to find a cozy shirt for the Quizzy too if she wants. One that matches hers.

Cole: he doesn’t sleep - not how normal humans do that - so he doesn’t own proper clothes for the night time. He tries to take his shoes off, but he’s adamant that the hat stays on his head. Ha takes care to clean with magic his clothes before laying down in his bedroll.

Romanced (with Maryden): he takes off his hat because she likes hugging him and he likes being hugged by her. The hat rests on his pillow anyway.

Advisors:

Josephine: she wears the most delicate, gorgeous cotton pajama. Despite the common belief, she doesn’t like sleeping covered in silk. Her pajama has puffy sleeves, dozens of ribbons everywhere and a short pair of embroidered trousers. She has different models, all quite similar to each other, in vibrant colors that remind her of her homeland. As Dorian, she too has bedroom slippers, two tiny things bordered with pink fur.

Romanced: she is delighted to pirouette for the Inquisitor, once they insist on seeing how much the vaporous shirt can twirl around her body. She likes having the Inquisitor naked in her arms, but she prefers wearing at least her shirt before falling asleep.

Cullen: Templars weren’t encouraged to sleep naked - they needed to be ready in case of emergency as quickly as they could - but for him, it’s a relief being allowed to sleep totally naked now. He has never suffered the cold weather and the fresh air is a relief against his skin, especially when he’s not feeling well. Light fevers are one of the many aspects of lyrium withdrawals. He also likes feeling the cotton of the sheet against his skin and being able to adjust the temperature around him simply covering himself with it or kicking it away.

Romanced: he discovers quite soon that his beloved Inquisitor is not bothered by his nudity at all. Cullen loves sleeping holding her in his arms, her warm body the best antidote against night terrors. He loves even more when he’s the little spoon, being cradled in her arms, skin against skin, safe and loved.

Leliana: she sleeps with a short nightgown on. Once she used to love flowing nightgowns, and she still owns a huge collection in her wardrobe. Right now, however, she favors something that allows her to jump out of the bed swiftly, but which hides the dagger wrapped around one of her thighs. It’s a beautiful nightgown, however, a dark purple masterpiece of lace with thin shoulders straps. She wonders if she should buy another one, in black this time. Josephine gives her one to celebrate the victory of the Inquisition.

You can find my other headcanons here .

Thanks for reading and thank you very much for every reblog, comment, like…!

Please, don’t add your own headcanons to my lists. If you want me to add other characters, just ask me. Feel free to use this list for your fanfictions or fan arts, but don’t forget to tag and/or credit me, please!!!

Thank you very much!

[atomicpainterinternet-blog]

Learn To Sew By Watching Sewing DVD Video TutorialsPalmer Pletsch Sewing Workshops, Books and patterns

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