Alastor Sewing - Tumblr Posts
Denial of closeness update>
Chapter 3: Threads and Memories
Niffty is making a puppet show!
This time she wants to make it with actual puppets, so Alastor volunteers to make them with her.
3. Don't you hate it when the princess calls you Niffty's dad?
Here is a snippet>>>
As the last notes of her makeshift orchestra faded, Niffty took a bow. The applause was polite but distant. She glanced at Alastor, who sat in the corner, his crimson eyes half-closed. As others left the room she came closer to him. His crimson eyes bore into Niffty’s, curiosity etched on his face. “What’s on your mind, my dear?”
Niffty fidgeted with her sketchbook, her mind racing. “Do they hate my shows?” she blurted out, her voice small.
Alastor chuckled, his smile enigmatic. “Niffty, they wouldn’t watch them if they hated them. Your roaches have their peculiar charm.”
But Niffty wasn’t satisfied. “Maybe I should try something new,” she mused aloud. “What if I made actual puppets? New characters, fresh stories!”
Alastor leaned back. “That could be refreshing,” he conceded. “And you know how to sew, don’t you? You made that beautiful dress!”
Niffty’s eye widened. “Yes, clothes! Mostly with a machine. But dolls? They’re different. How do I even start?”
Alastor hummed and clapped his hands “First, we’ll need fabric. Something sturdy but soft. And a pattern—” “I can draw the pattern! Look!” She flipped her sketchbook to reveal a rough outline of a doll, its limbs elongated, its head oversized.
Alastor examined her drawing. “Not bad. Now, let’s cut the fabric.” He demonstrated, the scissors gliding smoothly through the material. “Remember, precision matters.”
Niffty mimicked his movements, her tongue poking out in concentration. “Precision,” she repeated.
His fingers traced the delicate fabric, guiding Niffty through the art of doll-making. He spoke of seams and stitches, of shaping limbs and faces. Niffty listened, her enthusiasm growing with each whispered instruction.
“Next,” Alastor said, “we stitch the body. A simple running stitch along the edges.”
Niffty threaded the needle, her fingers deftly pulling the thread through the fabric. “Like this?”
...
"Exactly like that sweetie."
Memories of his mother surfaced—the way she’d sit by the window, sunlight streaming through her hair as she sewed. She’d taught him patiently, her voice soft and encouraging.
His father had scoffed, calling it "women's work." Yet, his mother had persisted, her needle weaving magic into every stitch. She had even shared her secret—the voodoo dolls. They were not the dark magic of horror stories but a beautiful connection to the universe.
"Every stitch holds power. Healing and protection," her voice echoed in his mind. Alastor's fingers betrayed him.
He pushed the needle through the fabric, wincing as it pricked his finger. Blood welled up, staining the cloth. “Ouch,” he muttered.
Niffty glanced at him. “Are you okay?”
He chuckled, wiping the blood away. “Fine. Just a little mishap.”
∘◦ ✂ ————–✂ ◦∘
After a month of hiatus >>>
Chapter 4 (bonus): The aftermath of Niffty’s last puppet show! Emotions be damned.
An attempt to write from Niffty’s POV.Later Rosie’s POV. Features confused and angry Niffty, Husk trying to comfort unsuccessfully, and drunk Alastor.
