#sewing mavens

[themancorialist]

Oldham Street, Manchester.

[snakerdoodlle]

Just got such a strong urge to see Gisa teaching Maven how to sew because I feel like he’d like it/be pretty good at it

[madamemoonscosplay]

Thought I'd share my Raven Queen WIP here too. It's a work in progress..

So far there's only her wool cowl

And the mask.

And some of her Cape in a box somewhere. I made her "porcelain" mask from worbla and covered the eye holes with tights/hosiery material.

Hopefully, I can start her bodice/dress this weekend.

[anyroads]

Every so often I come on here to shamelessly plug my Etsy store where I make leather thimbles out of reclaimed offcuts, but today I don't have to because Bernadette Banner apparently did it?? 

Listen. Listen listen listen. I've been making these thimbles for a few years now and every time I think, oh maybe this will end up in someone's sewing bag, maybe it'll be their little sewing friend, or knitting friend, or whatever they use it for, and I will have gotten to make something that means a lot to someone. But I never know! They go out into the world and that's the last I hear of them. So to hear that someone cherishes them?? is so moving. You have no idea. And that it's Bernadette, who's such a brilliant needle maven??? I can't. Shh. I'm not crying, you're crying. 

Anyway, I'm beyond excited. If you want one, I'm linking my store below. I just restocked so I'm about to add a couple new colors, including a gorgeous hunter green that I'm doing my best not to keep all for myself.

[san-sews-seams]

Ithaca Maven just shared a tutorial on adding side seam pockets to a pair of already-constructed pants/trousers, and while it's intended for people sewing their own, I think the instructions would also mostly work for someone with sadly pocketless RTW pants, so I'm throwing a link up here.

[lucy-the-cat]

Do you have an ideas or headconnons about what the Barrow family was up to while Mare was kidnapped by Maven? How it took a mental tool on the family? I just keep replaying the part where Mare’s mom call her sweetheart and put her to bed

Gisa sewed gifts for her everyday, and Papa Barrow's leg burned worse than it did before. They would always set out an empty chair, which Bree and Tramy would fight Ruth over while Gisa and Daniel stayed silent. Ruth held out all hope that she would come back. Tramy would grieve her, certain she would die in the palace. Bree would curse her for surrendering as he held back his tears. Daniel stayed silent through it all, speaking only when spoken to. Gisa would stare at the empty bed in her room, pushing pillows beneath the sheets when the pain got bad. Bree and Tramy plotted several attempts to murder Maven, only to be shocked to learn that Gisa had drafted dozens.

[to-the-fishies]

Garment question, o thou sewing mavens and historical experts! Is there a name for a fabric belt/outside pocket? I'm envisioning something fastened on over a dress - not chained like a chatelaine, not exactly a fanny pack/utility belt/festival belt, not necessarily placed like a sporran or an apron. Is this a thing?

[imjulia-andilikecats]

Mare and Her (Not So) Hidden Talent

Mare, looking at Gisa sew pretty clothes: I wish I could be good at something.

Maven: Oh darling, you are! You have a great talent for making everything difficult.

Mare: I do? 🥺

Cal, popping out of nowhere: YES

Reference: Rear Window (1954)

[somediyprojects]

DIY Salvaged Spool Ottoman

Project by Shelly:

i know ottomans aren’t the most indispensable piece of furniture in the house, but is it criminal to say they bring me the most joy? i think upholstery maven shelly (aka ModHomeEcTeacher) would agree with me; she’s made a whole collection of smart looking ottomans using a range of found fabrics and materials. i am so excited to follow her instructions and craft an adorable plaid ottoman of my very own, just in time to welcome fall. click here to see more of shelly’s amazing work, including her tutorials on everything from upholstering with rugs to aligning atomic legs. thanks, shelly! –kate

When Lowes stopped selling the pre-cut wood circles I used to construct my ottoman frames, it was a dark day. I soon discovered that cutting perfect circles with a hand-held jigsaw wasn’t easy, or even really possible. Weeks later, while roaming the store searching for an alternative, I discovered the empty electrical spools that are routinely discarded. Two perfectly cut round pieces of 5/8” plywood with a removable cardboard cylinder in the middle? Now we’re talking. With a tiny bit of carpentry, I came up with a way to easily re-work these into frames for my upholstered ottomans. I would label this as a mid-level DIY project that you could complete in a weekend. Once you get the hang of it, you these would make fantastic handmade gifts for friends and family. –Shelly

Materials:

-1 20” diameter empty electrical wire spool (hardware stores usually throw these out, so ask about picking them up instead) -8 pre cut 1”x 2”x 6” pieces of wood (a hardware store will cut these for you) -Wood glue -32 1 ¾” screws -A piece of foam (anywhere from 3” to 6” thick and at least ½” larger all around than the wood) -Spray adhesive (Elmers makes a spray adhesive available at the craft store) -Scrap fabric ( this to attach around the ottoman frame measuring about 8” x 65”. An option would be to use a bendable piece of cardboard) -1 ½ yard of cotton or dacron batting -1 ½ yard of 54” wide fabric -¾” yard of scrap fabric to cover the bottom of the finished ottoman -Thread and straight pins -Staples -4 screw on leg plates (hardware store) -4 fabulous ottoman legs (look around for good legs on cruddy, inexpensive Goodwill furniture)

Tools:

-Big marker -Drill -3/32” drill bit and a 3/8” drill bit -Electric knife -Electric stapler -Scissors -Measuring tape -Flat head screwdriver -Pliers (crescent or needle nose) -Sewing machine

Instructions:

Making the frame:

1. Take the spool apart and make a pattern by tracing the circle on a large piece of paper, adding ½” all around for the seam allowance. The pattern will be used for cutting out the foam, batting, fabric and a dustcover for the bottom. Lay aside.

2. Glue and screw 6-8 posts evenly around the outside edge of one wooden circle, then add the other piece of wood on top of the posts and attach. Be sure to keep the wood circles aligned.

Padding:

1. Use the staple gun to attach the long piece of cotton muslin around the outside edges of the top and bottom circles. Keep fabric pulled taut. The fabric serves to fill in the open spaces between the support posts. Cut off excess fabric. (Option: use bendable cardboard)

2. Trace the pattern onto the foam and cut the foam using the electric knife. Keep the knife blades perpendicular to the foam to get a crisp, even cut.

3. Use spray adhesive to glue the foam to the top of the ottoman frame.

4. Trace the pattern onto the batting, cut out. Also, cut out a long strip of batting equal to the total height of the ottoman, from the top of the foam to the bottom edge, plus two extra inches.

5. Pin the batting strip to the batting circle, starting 1” from the short end of the strip and ending 1” from the other end. Stitch in place.

6. Remove from under the sewing machine and stitch the open seam closed and go back and complete stitching that section of the band to the batting top.

7. Trim off the excess seam allowance, turn the batting covering right side out and pull it down on top of the ottoman frame.

8. Measure and mark the batting band (all the way around the covering ) so that it will be stapled evenly from the top seam to the bottom EDGE of the frame. Do not attach the batting to the underneath side of the wood. Attach it to the edge and cut off the excess batting.

Sewing and Upholstering:

1. To make the fabric covering, which is a bit like a snug slipcover, trace the pattern onto the fabric and cut it out.  You’ll need to cut a band of fabric 3” longer than the height of the ottoman and 5” wider than the circumference. If you need to stitch two pieces together to get a long enough piece for the band, split the circumference measurement in two and add 3 extra inches to each piece.

2. To prepare the fabric covering for stitching, fold one short end of the cut fabric band over 1” with wrong sides together.  With the right side of the band to the right side of the fabric circle, patterns matching, pin and begin stitching at the folded short edge all the way around to the other short end. Overlap the excess fabric 2” past the folded short end. Cut off any excess fabric beyond the 2”. Pin and stitch the overlapping fabric to the seam.

3. Turn the fabric covering right side out and topstitch the folded seam closed from the bottom of the band to the top seam.

4. Pull the fabric covering down over the dacron covered ottoman. Adjust the fabric pattern and straighten so the pattern or plaid is aligned.

5. Pull the fabric down firmly and staple in place evenly and snugly.

Upholstery Tip: It works best to start with one section and attach with a few staples, move to the opposite side and do the same. Then repeat for the other sides. Attach the fabric between the set staples by smoothing and easing in the fabric.

Attach Legs:

1. Measure and mark the bottom of the ottoman base for leg attachment.  Place the leg plates on the marks to make sure they are equidistant from each other. Mark the center hole of the plates. Use the 3/8”drill bit to drill out the center hole. You can also do this step prior to putting the fabric on (as shown below).

2. Cut out a dustcover from scrap fabric and attach it to the bottom of the ottoman by folding the edge under ½”.

3. Locate the drilled holes, line the leg plates up, screw the leg plates on using a Phillips head screwdriver or the drill.  Attach the legs to the plates.

VOILA!

[ambiguouspuzuma]

Happy Worldbuilding Wednsday!

What is the healthcare like in Archipelago?

Happy Worldbuilding Wednesday, and thank you for the ask!

One of the Tal Elisan pillars, the Pillar of Blood, is devoted to the study of healing. All of the great cities recruit graduates from the various pillars, but there are also a good number of sawbones who learn healing as more of a trade - picking it up on the job, usually as an apprentice, rather than receiving the theoretical education first.

Some of the mavens' chapters cover the Tal Elisan side, but I will share this excerpt from Maresa's POV which illustrates the difference between the two:

Gab wasn’t the first noble she’d been called to treat. She’d made her way up through the pyramid’s tiers on a ladder built of sickbeds, improving her own lot in life as she saved theirs. Most healers were from wealthy families, some even with second names of their own, and almost all were sent to the Pillar of Blood for their training before they were allowed to practice amongst Victory’s great and good. But Maresa had never had a formal education of any kind. She couldn’t even read, except for the way her fingers could read a wound and write it a conclusion: she was simply exceptionally gifted with her hands. In another life, she might have been an artificer or an artist, a tailor of the finest robes, but in this one she had used her skills to cut and sew skin instead. She knew little of fevers and poxes and parasites, but when one of the city’s champions needed a cut patching up, they came to Maresa to do it. Her stiches were the most delicate, the quickest to heal, and left the least trace: except for when they wanted a small, fashionable scar, in which case she was able to do that as well. When it came to matters of the flesh, Victory’s luminaries eschewed their trained mavens to call for the common girl with the magic touch. Never serving as an apprentice hadn’t stopped her from becoming a master. Some of her patrons had suggested she should go to Blood and become even better, the most skilled healer in the Crown Isles, but Maresa didn’t see how years studying the dancing plagues that had once decimated Tal Luana would make her any better at treating wounds. If she came across a crowd of people dancing themselves to death in wild hysteria, she would refer them to a maven. But simple complaints usually had simple solutions, and she didn’t intend to cloud her brain with problems she could solve with her hands.

[denimbex1986]

'...Chekhov it Off the List

Don’t act like we didn’t all fall in love with actor Andrew Scott a little bit after his iconic performance as the priest in that Fleabag show. Scott catapulted himself into the consciousness of pretty much anyone with a heart, and he put that goodwill to good use for his production of Vanya last year, a take on the Chekhov classic Uncle Vanya. Previously, Scott toured the production wherein he went the one-man-show route across multiple roles. Some critics hailed the choice as daring, while others wondered why it was necessary...'

[hotel-supplies]

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Our hotel supplies include a wide variety of guest room essentials. Maven Supplies provides premium toiletries such as shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and soap, all selected for their quality and suitability for both short-term and extended stays. These items are packaged in convenient, travel-size containers that reflect the luxury and care guests expect. We also offer additional personal care items like shower caps, sewing kits, and vanity kits to enhance the guest experience.

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To complement our bedding and toiletries, we offer a wide selection of in-room amenities. Our range includes coffee and tea makers, glassware, and hospitality trays, ensuring guests can enjoy refreshments in the comfort of their rooms. Hairdryers, irons, and ironing boards are also part of our inventory, providing the convenience that travelers expect. We supply durable, easy-to-use products that meet hotel industry standards for reliability and guest satisfaction.

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As part of our commitment to the hospitality industry, Maven Supplies ensures fast and reliable delivery throughout Australia, including Sydney, Melbourne, and the Gold Coast. We offer competitive pricing without compromising on quality, making it easier for hotels to maintain high standards of guest service while staying within budget. Whether you are looking for everyday hotel room supplies or bulk purchases for large establishments, Maven Supplies has the products and expertise to support your business.

By focusing on practical, durable, and cost-efficient products, Maven Supplies ensures that hotels of all sizes have access to the supplies needed to operate smoothly and enhance guest satisfaction. With a reputation for reliability and a strong understanding of the hospitality sector, Maven Supplies is the trusted partner for hotel supplies across Australia.

[pb-dot]

Ok, let's go for maximum weirdness and ship two villains who have no chemistry and do not at all trust each other. I mean I could ship the codependently toxic Two and Creator, but that's basically canon in its own fucked-up way, so that's no fun. Let's instead wonder what would happen if the mysterious stealth maven One and her brutish colleague Ten had a thing. Oh, and this thing turned out kinda long so I put that under a readmore.

So, how could such a thing even happen, you ask? Well let's assume that the two get into an argument about whether they're human in the ways that matter. One claims they're machines more than beings, while Ten, ever hubristic, maintains they're More Than Human. It gets heated, One claims Clockmen do not love as they do not have hearts, while Ten boasts he has more love in him today than he ever did as a human. As the screaming subsides and the two withdraw to their quarters, they both, independently and more or less in sync, come to realize they have challenged each other to go on a date, both convinced they can make the other part see it their way.

The next few days pass in the uneasy silence that can be found before a thunderstorm. One sneaks out at the strangest times, which isn't unusual, but the scraps of fabric the other clockmen find strewn about certainly are. Ten goes out in daytime a couple of times, always returning in an unusual foul mood, taking his apparent frustrations out on his fellow Clockmen. 3 and 4, in particular, enjoy taunting and teasing their enormous colleague, although there is no denying his reprisals have gotten increasingly unkind.

The day for the fated date arrives, and One is nowhere to be found. Ten leaves the Spire again close to sundown. For a little while, he walks the streets of the city before seeking out a tailor's shop. Here, the massive man cast in bronze and steel dons an item of clothing for the first time in decades, a custom-tailored three-piece outfit in the style popular at the end of the Coal Wars. The immaculately sewn and fitted pants and jacket fit him, and considering how long he spent getting measured and trying on ill-fated prototypes, he'd expect nothing less. Still, ten does not enjoy the slight restraint of his clothing, he worries he'll split the seams by moving normally. Still, there is no denying the tailor has done his job and been more than patient, and besides, money is no object for the apostles of the Spire. Ten pays the tailor, and doesn't even consider wringing his neck like a filthy washcloth.

Now dressed to the nines, Ten navigates through the streets towards the Entertainment District, feeling for all the world like he has to constrain himself to not bust out of his brand-new suit. Once he reaches the agreed-upon address, he is briefly confused when the address is of an abandoned storefront, but he can't help but notice that the roof is almost, but not quite, accessible from the street. It's harder to climb up than it'd be to leap, but Ten doesn't want to further imperil his new outfit. Once at the top, he's met with a sight he simultaneously expected and never saw coming. Someone, he presumes One, has set up a candlelit dinner table and chairs.

"Not bad for a heartless machine, huh?" The voice comes from the shadow. One, ever elusive, steps out into the flickering lights of the candles. For the occasion she's dressed in a somewhat flimsy-looking dress, it looks about as parodic over her brass and metal frame as the three-piece suit draped over his armor-like torso surely must look.

"You put the effort in, I commend that." Ten dismisses the notion with his usual gruffness. It fetches a slight, almost-genuine smile from One, she knew he'd say that.

"The dress didn't turn out quite right, turns out that sewing business is harder than I thought," One muses as they find their seats.

"I went to a tailor for mine," Ten shrugged, or as much as he could shrug without tearing something. "I'm surprised you made the effort."

"Wouldn't be fair if I didn't give it an honest try, right?"

"Right." Ten knows One lies and manipulates as easily as she breathes. This wasn't to be seen as a concession. And yet...

One offers up a series of perfume bottles. Clockmen do not eat, and they do not drink, so she has reasoned that a sample of pleasant smells and sounds will have to stand in for a pleasant meal and good drink. The various perfumes do smell like pretty things, they make Ten think of the various women he had loved through the years, how he hadn't always, hadn't ever really, loved them well. It was sad in a way that was strangely addicting.

At first they try to small talk, to pretend to not know each other, to be excited to meet someone new, and wouldn't you know it they have so much in common. Ten is dogged in his determination to be pleasant. He is a murderer and a thug, but this night he will endeavor to be a gentleman, to be the kind of person someone could love. Someone like One? He wasn't so sure, the more he got to know her the colder she seemed like there were gears and clockwork in her brain as well as her body. And yet...

Ten falters first, what was intended to be a slight tug at his collar rips the top button of his shirt, as well as producing a distinct ripping sound from beneath his neck. With some difficulty, he suppresses his natural urge to rage at the tailor and break something, possibly said tailor, but he carries on. One's collapse, however, is more complete.

It all begins with the strap on her dress coming undone by itself and as she reaches frantically for the center of her construction that just will not hold, One's hand snaps into a blade and slices the dress clean in half. As the ruined fabric flutters to the ground, One does something Ten has never seen her do. She rages. She raves. In extracting her from the scraps of her ruined dress, she even trips a little, righting herself only by planting her blade-hand solidly in the seat of her chair.

"I can't do this." One whines in frustration as she plants a foot on the chair to pull her blade-hand free without risking any of the delicate components. "I thought we'd just be normal for a bit and you could see it wasn't the weirdness of being a clockman that keeps me distant and you'd leave me the fuck alone about it." The words come out like pearls on a string, unexpected, yet inevitable like the tides.

Ten doesn't say anything. Words are difficult, and he's not good at them. He is, however, very good at breaking things.

With one prolonged rip, Ten tears his expensive suit jacket and shirt off like it's made out of rice paper. The polished steel and matted brass of his armor-torso glean in the moonlight. Before One can speak a word of comment, he gets up from his chair and tosses it into the nearest chimney where it explodes into shards of wood. He reaches out a hand towards One's chair, but hesitates. "Can I... I mean do you need help?"

One looks at him then, her cold grey eyes appraising him in a way that made him feel... different. Larger, somehow. "Go ahead. Just... don't break anything of mine, ok?"

Ten can't help but chuckle. Sure, he looks like a clockwork giant, but he's reasonably proud of his dexterity. Nobody else in his position would have managed to walk around in that suit for as long as he did, that was just a fact. With the determination of the effortlessly confident, Ten grips the chair seat with a finger and a thumb on each hand and snaps it in half along the fracture introduced by One's blade. One stepped away, visibly grateful to be free of the restraint.

"Thank you," One said as she pulled the blade back into the hand shape she preferred. It was a mesmerizing process. Ten couldn't help but stare at how the inflexible blade turned into such individually dexterous fingers. She was a wonder of engineering, in a different way than he was, but the difference was in kind not volume. She had the elegance of a switchblade knife, he had the unbreakable strength of a mallet. Neither could be beaten in their field, and neither could be fairly compared to the other.

"Don't worry about it," Ten heard himself say. "Let's be weird together tonight, instead."

And so they did. Free from the constraints of what a date was supposed to be, One and Ten stormed through the night, leaping from roof to roof, breaking statues that displeased them, chucking parked steam pavises into the river, carving their names and several expletives into brick walls. Whatever they wanted, whatever they could think of at the moment, whatever was strange and unusual and impossible for a human to do. They were wild, undisciplined, unconcerned, far beyond the reach of anyone but each other.

As the night grew short, One and Ten found themselves making their way up the Spire. Despite the giddiness of their wild ravages, a heavy thought hung in the air.

"We shouldn't make a habit of this," Ten said as he swung unto the balcony that was the most convenient entry point for the Clockman HQ.

"Indeed," One concurred as she landed on the balcony with the grace of the dancer and all the noise of a snowflake. "It has been fun, but messy, maybe even dangerous..."

"Yes," Ten dropped with a loud thump on the balcony. "And I don't think Creator would like it."

"It'd be best if we put this whole disaster behind us." One said as she turned towards Ten.

"No doubt...." Ten said as he turned towards One. She was smaller than him, but oh so fierce. She was not a thing to cherish and protect. She was a thing to respect as your equal. Just like people mistook him for a clumsy brute, they mistook One's minuscule stature and avoidant personality for signs of weakness. It was an illusion she maintained meticulously, but Ten had seen the other side of it now, the furious warrior's heart at her center. Well, they didn't have hearts since everything beneath their necks were armor and gears, but still.

"And yet..." One said, her voice quavering with the first tone of doubt he could remember from her.

"And yet..." Ten agreed, feeling indirect, feeling measured, like he had a plan, for once.

He bent down, she extended her legs. They met in the middle.

Writers. Make crackships between ocs that would never date in canon. It'll either be hilarious or awaken something in you.

[mymyminerva]

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[lucy-the-cat]

more for wip ask game: I Am Not a Woman, I'm a God, and fierce be the flood

This is based on an idea from a person I don't speak to anymore (different from prev ask). Ordinarily I wouldn't care, but this was a full outline of two character arcs, and while I asked for permission and received it at the time (she doesn't write fanfic), I don't know if she'd be mad if I finished it now. However, I added a lot to her ideas, including a character arc for Mare, and everything below is basically my addition minus the core concept.

Mare first heard about the gods when she was five years old.  A prayer in the schoolyard, a circle of candles, her classmates clasping their hands and bowing to a picture.  She couldn’t make sense of it.

It was as if they were summoning a demon.

She asked her teacher how to stop them.  Her hands were smacked with a ruler in turn.  “They are praying to the gods.  Stop them, and they will punish you.”

The only punishment she knew were that of humans.

As she grew up, they grew more solid, Silver, boots on her neck and tremors in her spine.  It was a wilderness goddess who ruled her territory, spreading seeds across the soil to feed them all.  The hungry were unworthy of her blessing, the plentiful practically her children.

It was at fifteen that she called bullshit.  Privately, of course.  Heresy was a crime among crimes, punished severely lest the gods take vengeance themselves.  She never prayed.  She never knelt.

Her family was not so rebellious.  Gisa sewed tapestries in their honor, selling them for a premium to any Silver who would take them.  It was through her that she learned that those in the city were expected to tithe.  That Silvers would collect for their temples, as if the money went to anyone but themselves.

It was then she vowed to steal from temples, a vow she was quick to break the instant she saw their security.  If she were to steal, it would have to be from Reds.  If she were to live, she could not stand against them.

And then she fell into the arena.  And for a moment, she believed the gods were real.

Violet lightning, purple sparks, a blessing potent as broth on a sickly throat.  They grew, as did her wonder, rippling up her arms and leaving just as swiftly.  She collapsed on the ground, rubble digging against her palm.  The gods had spared her.

But Silvers were not so kind.

Metal shards whooshed past her ears, sizzling to cinders.  Her body pulsed with purpose as she stood, aching, but still standing.  Beneath her, there were lightning scars.  Beneath her, the ground had blackened.

“Enough!”  The Silver girl she’d interrupted screamed.  Pipes tore from beneath the floor and vaulted towards her, bending and creaking with each tumble.  A thunderous crack echoed as they met an electric shield, one woven of her own will and desperation.  She froze.

The other person's notes are basically just Cal and Maven having character arcs around their beliefs, not copy pasting bc they're too long. The actual religion was kinda vague and undefined. My notes are as follows:

I have a lot less for Fierce Be the Flood. I have some notes:

Mare to Cal: “When I was Maven’s prisoner, no one visited me.  I would bide the hours in uneasy silence, counting ceiling tiles and folding sheets as insanity crept nearer and nearer.”

Iris: I'm no stranger to silence.  Father would have us train against the Vides of our court, urging us to stand it longer and longer

More Iris: I scoff.  “Here to taunt me, are we?  How childish.”

Mare: “No one visited me."

Iris: In another life, I might like her.