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retail-hell · 5 years

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Short stories of working at Jo-Ann’s.

• I’m a crafter, and I’m not 100% familiar with all of our fabrics and sewing items. Which by proxy means I don’t know how to sew in any way except for how to make a pillowcase like I learned in 8th grade. I had a lady come in and I’m back up register so I’m available to help so I offered help when she said she had a question. She proceeded to badger me on how to make a dress. I told her I’m not familiar with how, but one of my managers (who does drag and makes BEAUTIFUL dresses) is. “I saw him earlier but I don’t know if he’s still here. You make go back to the cutting counter to see or ask.” She’s huffy I won’t follow her (I’m clearly doing an important project). She comes back to ask when he works next. I saw I don’t know, I don’t know his schedule. She turns red and leaves.

• Around the start of Black Friday sales ( the first time around, I just made it one year) I was put to train on the cut counter. I’ve done a couple simple cuts before to help out. But I was only trained for less than an hour before I was needed at the register. SM scheduled me for counter my next shift and I was immediately overwhelmed by the line, what people wanted cut, I literally didn’t know what I was doing, it was just me and one other person who was already cutting so she couldn’t teach me, no one could, and I was eventually sent to the back to take care of my first massive panic attack in years. I’m still a little traumatized and have refused to cut since.

• Our store doesn’t sell sewing machines. Instead we have an independent stored that rents floor space from us to sell sewing machines and their other various items. They close at 6, it is 6:10, they are gone, and a lady comes to the register with three of their items and one of ours. Here’s how the conversation went:

ME: Sorry ma’am, I can’t sell you these three items. They are not ours.

LADY: What do you mean? They’re in your store and I need them.

ME: They belong to the independent store in the carpeted area. Their barcodes are made clearly different, and we cannot sell them. You can come back tomorrow to get them. They unfortunately closed at 6.

LADY: You don’t understand, I need them for a project I have to finish tonight. Can I just give you money in and envelope to leave for them.

ME: Logically and morally I cannot do that, ma’am. It would be categorized as stealing as I can’t sell another store’s items.

LADY: You know what? I’ll find someone else to help me.

She proceeds to take all items. Throws the one that was ours onto a random shelf as I watched. Screaming that it was terrible customer service for not doing what she asked. (And as I learned after she left) Yelled at my manager for saying the exact same thing I did, angry that she too wouldn’t steal from another store for her. Then power walked out in a huff. That same manager asked me if she bought anything else, worried she’d leave a stupid survey that would hurt our scores. I simply said no she only wanted those.

• All the customers that complain that our fabrics is a mess and our store is a “mess” are the same ones doing it because we all watched them.

• Bless the few mothers that actually control their kids, instead of letting them run around the store using anything and everything as a toy. Such as the family that let their kids break a big glass vase and proceeded to tell no one. But said “oh at that was us” when a manager found them still looking in that area.

• I had a woman tell me that all of our gift cards were disgusting and that she was super mad that we didn’t have birthday themed ones, nor did we have envelopes for them.

• Customers that say “Oh it was this way not too long ago” and roll their eyes when I say “oh well it’s been like this since before I started working here over year ago and when I shopped here before then”

• “The packaging is a little damaged, can I get a discount?

• All of the empty packaging hidden and plainly visible we see all over the store. Clearance, regular, and sometimes empty bolts stuffed into fabric clearance.

• (I was here this day but I know the story) One day, receiving a large truck load, there was a woman looking for an item that wasn’t on the shelf. She then took it upon herself to go into our freight room to look through boxes and totes for her item. One of the managers eventually yelled at her, threw the tote the lady was looking in at that moment out the door, and slammed it shut when she had followed it.

• One lady was looking for an extremely large sized pillow. And was mad that I told her we don’t carry it instead of looking for it. (I was the only one on register are pillows are in the back.) She said she would call back later to ask again. She never did.

• One much older gentleman (who seemed to have a ferret up his but the moment he came into the store) was first angry that he had to take a number to ask for help because it was busy at the counter. It was empty at the register I really don’t know why he didn’t ask me. He refused to have our female manager help him. He turned the male manager, who was cutting for someone else, to ask him for a pattern for a robe. He was told where and how to find them, as my managers were too busy to leave the counter. The gentleman proceeds to just come up to the register. At the same time counter person came back from lunch. MM ran to help me at the register since there was now a rush. The gentleman comes to me and asks if I’m the manager. I say “no it’s the gentleman next m-”. MM interrupting “yes me and the woman in the back.” The gentleman decided to ignore my manager and complain to me like I’m the manager and can do anything about it. Then asks if I can help him find the pattern. I tell him the exact same thing and apologized that I could not leave as we don’t have the people to cover the line. He turns around, fuming, but following my directions. We get through the line and I’m sent to lunch just as the gentleman comes back and he stares at me as I come out from behind the counter, turning as I went around him. “I’m terribly sorry sir but I have to go lunch now as we behind”. His response was to huff and slam the pattern book he had on the register counter my manager was at. Yelling at him to find it. He did, the gentleman then left.

• One time I was trying to get to the register to help out. But I was stuck behind a gaggle of later 20-early 30s women moving two steps at time, blocking the whole walkway between the aisle. They scoffed at me as I said “pardon me” and squeezed between them.

• Hearing “do you work here?” ten times a day, wearing the bright green apron, having all the gear, and doing my job.

• “I found this on your website, why can’t I find it here?!” Clearly says online only or not available in my store.

• Over Christmas a lady tried to return a Christmas light necklace without a receipt, that was clearly different in design and packaging of what we had on display right next to us, claiming she bought it last week. No you didn’t honey.

• We’re still working on a mega huge yarn reset, and there is nothing but complaints about the boxes in the aisles when they should know by now that we obviously don’t have a back room based on the up stock shelves and that we don’t have enough people because they definitely would’ve been working on getting the yarn out.

There’s more than just customer stories though.

• we had 8 stackout fixtures, they took away four, ands expect us to have 20 set

Be creative!

•magazines were moved to right in front of registers, dropping magazine sales, queue item sales, and causing traffic jams when we busy and people are shopping the magazines.

Be creative!

• we are literally drowning in clearance, we have to have it throughout the store including on queue panels, even though they started wanted us to set 11 queue panels months ago with us only really having 10

Be creative!

• they sent over 50 planograms to be done in one week and as I far as I’ve heard that was legit and not an accident which is ridiculous. Being as hours has been cut so much there had only been one or two people able to work in planograms in general

Be creative!

• sending a million sequin ty animals of all sizes to be set in a tiny display and a million boxes of each type of seasonal candy and only giving tiny sections put it. Such as the Easter candy stackout that had three different peeps in one two foot basket and sending five boxes of each one

Be creative!

I don’t understand how much more creative we can get when it feels like our store is getting smaller and smaller as fixtures are taken away or filled and boxes of overstock just keep coming. I love my job, it’s just extremely frustrating how the uppers and customers are treating us.

#joanns is a special kind of hell #retail worker #working retail #retail hell #retail stories #retail #submission

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khookcreations · 5 years

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Why did I make this thing? If you missed this baby’s origin story, here it is.

Back in November 2018, I raised money for St. Jude PLAY LIVE for the first time with a $500 goal. $2500 later, I was in complete awe and had committed to making lots of projects as incentives for surpassing fundraising milestones. One of those projects was a crochet baby.

You see, my friend AHareAffair had said she would make one for charity too after she found this pattern of a baby. Her community quickly funded the project…and so did mine. After blowing past my original fundraising goal, I was running out of ideas and blurted out that if we raised even more money, I would make one.

So I knew I had to make this baby. I love a challenging crochet pattern and giant projects, but let’s be honest, it was kind of creepy. Who wants a weirdly realistic, giant crochet baby in their house? I knew I had to do something else with it to make it cool and something I was proud of making. I think an Avengers movie had just come out because my first thought was make a baby Thanos! I did just make a really cool infinity gauntlet and I thought it might be cute to cover up the baby’s hands with tiny versions of the glove. So in January 2019, I started following the pattern using purple for the skin tone.

The first tiny hand

Two arms!

Two legs!

Heh, this was a fun stage

The nightmare stage

This never got old

Somewhere before I got too far, I had a change of heart. I felt there weren’t enough details I could give this baby to turn it into Thanos. Gloves, helmet, his weird chin maybe? I’m not sure what made me think of it so fast, but I was thinking of other purple characters I could make and landed on Illidan Stormrage from World of Warcraft. There was so much more I could do; make horns, wings, even his warglaives. So baby Illidan was born!

It took me 4 months to follow the whole pattern, which I followed very closely. I only skipped the ears since Illidan has elf ears. I took guesses from my Twitch chat as to how many stitches they thought were in this baby. A couple people were extremely close, within 100 stitches. It ended up being 15,189 stitches! And he was tall too; he’s the biggest amigurumi I have made, besides Dave the Psyduck, at 18 inches and this wasn’t even his final form!

This is what 15,189 stitches looks like

Me trying to explain the epic-ness of this project to everyone who thought it was creepy

The rest of this blog post will serve as a written version of the process I went through to create this beast. It will give you a general idea on how I transformed this weird purple baby into an awesome baby Illidan that the world wasn’t prepared for. You know, so you can make your own. Or simply be amazed at how I did this. BUT! I’ll also include a link to the live videos I recorded and a PDF notes version which includes the patterns for all the parts I took notes on.

Watch the ‘making of’ videos on Twitch

Download the PDF notes

Full gallery is at the bottom of this post!

How I made baby Illidan.

The first change I made to the pattern was making the eyes completely green. I still followed the same pattern, and honestly I could’ve made the eyes in any color because I ended up covering them with felt anyway.

The only other change I made to the pattern was skipping the ears entirely. I came up with an elf ear pattern instead. But the first thing I did to transform him into Illidan was covering up that face.

Face Mask

I made a long chain, from ear to ear across the forehead and single crocheted for a few rows until I reached the eyes. Then I made more chains to create the space for each eye to show through. I single crocheted a few more rows until it sat just above the nose. This took a lot of guessing and measuring as I went. The sewing for this part was quite tedious as I sewed the entire thing, even the eye holes so they would stay in place.

Ears

The pattern for these is in the document. They may not fit your baby if you follow the notes exactly, but you can get an idea of the shape I was going for and adjust it for the size you want.

Hair Cap & Hair

Using black yarn and a bigger hook (so it wouldn’t take as long), I created a bowl shape to cover the top of his head. I made sure it sat just above the ears and created a subtle ‘V’ shape in the middle of the forehead. To do that, just do something like ‘hdc, dc, tr, dc, hdc’ in the middle of the last round of the cap.

I sewed this cap to the head and then cut lots of LONG strands of black yarn for the hair. Mine were something like 2 feet long each and there was probably 50 of them. I folded each strand in half and then painstakingly attached (okay, it really wasn’t that bad, I just dislike making hair) each one around the edge of the entire cap (skipping two small areas where I wanted the horns to go). You just want to make sure it is thick enough to cover up the cap.

I gathered all of the hair on top of his head and wrapped a small band of brown yarn around it to secure it in a ponytail. The hair ended up being the perfect length and he didn’t even need a haircut!

Horns

I used a charcoal gray color for these and they are structured with polyfill and some pipe cleaners inside so they keep their shape. The pattern for these is in the document!

Wings

These were easily the most complicated part. I drew them out on a piece of paper first to make sure I’d get the size right. Then I used that as a template to create the shapes. You can see this whole process happening at this part of the video series. The flat sections in between the purple tubes were made up of two flat panels single crocheted together. The border around really helped when it came to sewing them to the tubes. They are far from perfect, but the notes are in the doc in case you wanted to try them out.

Pants

Using brown yarn, I made a chain long enough to go around his waist, above his belly button. Then I joined it together and single crocheted in rounds until I got to the legs. I found the halfway point for the whole round and joined it together so I had two holes, one for each leg. I made enough rounds for one leg until the pants were the length I wanted and then did the other leg. I didn’t put them on until they were all done. They were pretty tight but that meant I didn’t have to sew them on 🙌.

With fuzzy brown yarn, I made the belt. Started the same way with the pants, but only made like 5 or 6 rounds. Then I attached it to the top of the pants, leaving the bottom part free.

The fabric flaps were made with sage green yarn and then gold surface slip stitches for the detailing. I didn’t take any notes for these but there are two smaller flaps on each hip sewed underneath the furry belt. The middle flap is sewed on top of the belt so it looks like it is folded up and over the pants.

Bracers

I thought I took notes on these, but now that I think about it, I guess I just winged it for each one. I made a brown chain long enough to wrap around the thickest part of the forearm then joined it together and started working in rounds. To create the texture, I used front/back loop only techniques. When I reached the back of the hand, I made a few rows just to cover it and then made a chain to wrap around the thumb. This is a detail you can’t really see unless you see him in person, but it helps make it look more impressive!

Warglaives

Ok, maybe I lied about which part was the hardest. These are definitely the most complicated. They are sort of made the same way as the wings, but more detailed. Also ignore the awful needle felting job 🙈. I added the lime green felt last minute because I wanted the weapons to stand out a bit more. I made 8 green panels all with the same pattern (it’s in the PDF) and sandwiched them together to make 4 blades. These were sewn to the gray center parts, which were also made up of 2 panels each and detailed with felt. I attached these to the bracers and then made another chain that wrapped around his hand so he’s actually holding on to something. Another thing you don’t really see unless you see him in person. It’s all in the details!

Arcane Tattoos

This was a really fun part to do and really made the entire character to be honest. I cut out pieces of lime green felt and needle felted them on. At first, I tried felting a lighter color yarn on top of it to create a highlight, but it wasn’t quite the right color and it didn’t work. So I took the lime green yarn I used for the warglaives, which was a shade darker than the felt, and needle felted that as an outline for each piece. The eyes were detailed in the same way. It really helped them pop.

Front view

Side view

Back view

Close up detail

So what once was this strange looking purple baby has now become one epic piece of crochet wizardry! And it hilariously took 9 months to make him…😂 I have no intentions of selling him, but I have a few ideas of what to do with him other than keeping him for myself. One option would be to have a charity auction for him with all proceeds going to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. Another option would be to find a kid at St. Jude who just freaking LOVES World of Warcraft and would be over the moon to receive Illidan as a gift. Or I could just donate it to St. Jude so they can display it where the kids could really enjoy his presence. I’d be fine with any of these options, but I need to get in contact with some people first to see if any of them are doable.

Thanks for coming to my very lengthy post about the making of this project. It was an incredible journey and I am so glad it was made possible by the love my community has for fundraising for the kids. I hope I can continue to inspire epic projects like this and get you thinking about how you can use your love of crochet to bridge the gap between video games and fiber art. And help a wonderful cause at the same time. For the kids!

The Baby Illidan Project Why did I make this thing? If you missed this baby's origin story, here it is.

#diy #how it&039;s made #how to #illidan #st jude #stjude #stjude playlive #tutorial #world of warcraft #wow classic

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peace-coast-island · 5 years

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Diary of a Junebug

Trying out bookbinding kits!

This week’s arts and crafts theme is bookbinding! Last year we tried a bunch of art kits, including a book making one by CraftyCrafty. Since everyone had fun with the craft kits, I figured why not have a day where we try out various kits relating to a certain art project? Bookbinding won by a landslide!

It took about a year, but Butch and I managed to find five different bookbinding kits that met our standards. And by that, we mean kits that have all the supplies, aren’t too pricey or complicated, and have fairly good reviews that are three stars or more. There’s not a lot of bookbinding kits out there so it’s a bit of a challenge finding good ones. Luckily, we managed to find five different kits that we can’t wait to try out!

Knifty Knits What makes this kit catch my eye is the fact is it’s from Knifty Knits, which involves knitting. In terms of bookbinding, it’s for a coptic stitch book with a plain chipboard cover. The kit also comes with three different colors of yarn - jewel tones, water lilies, and rainbow - and a pair of knitting needles. Since it’s for a book cover and it’s not supposed to be bulky, the yarn is super fine and the needle size is quite small.

As for the bookbinding itself, there isn’t really anything that sticks out. The paper quality is like a $10 sketchpad, so it’s pretty good. There’s the usual tools like an awl and bone folder - both are decent quality too. As for the knitting portion of the DIY, I was impressed! Since the yarn and needles are small, it takes quite a bit of time to make the book cover/sleeve. But if you’re like me and find something like knitting relaxing, then it’s all good. The colors of the yarn are pretty and the quality is pretty good - especially since super fine yarn isn’t really something you find in stores. As for the leftover yarn, I’m gonna use them to make two more journals!

Rating: 4 skeins of yarn out of 5

Plushiemania Like the knitting one, this kit focuses more on the cover than the actual bookbinding itself. So you get to make a cute plush animal cover, which is super cute! There’s six patterns for six animals - dog, cat, bunny, elephant, duck, and alpaca - and they’re easy to follow. The kit comes with the usual bookbinding supplies minus the bone folder, along with squares of plush fabric in various colors. The fabric feels soft and durable - though I won’t really know for sure how wear and tear will affect it until time goes on but according to online reviews it seems to hold up well. As for paper quality, it’s noticeably thinner than the previous kit - but still good enough for writing and sketching without too noticeable or distracting ghosting. I guess the thinness of the paper is to make up for the bulkiness of the book cover since the front will have a bit of polyester stuffing to add to the plushie appearance.

Overall this kit is fun and cute! I enjoyed making the cover and the patterns are easy to follow - though if you’re a beginner at sewing it’s best to do some practice runs so you’re comfortable with the stitches. There’s so many cute designs to choose from as well as colors of fabric - and like the previous kit I plan to make the other designs with my own supplies. However the only thing about this kit is that the front cover will be a bit bulky - not by too much as I initially thought, but it’s noticeable. It’s a cute front cover, but is is practical for use? Guess I’ll find out when I put this journal to good use!

Rating: 3.5 plushies out of 5

Pleather Crafts A traveler’s notebook kit with saddle stitch booklets and a leather cover! This kit’s on the pricier side - mainly because of the pleather quality according to the website. The kit comes with two large sheets of pleather in brown and black, a pad of decorative paper for the inside of the leather cover as well as covers for the booklets, charms, elastics, and the usual bookbinding essentials. What’s different about this kit compared to the other two is the paper. It’s thicker and a lot higher quality- the kind of paper that can be used for painting - and it’s cream colored with rounded corners. And of course, there’s instructions as well as dimensions for the cover. There’s enough paper to make three booklets, which is how many books the cover can fit.

I love everything about this kit! From the high quality pleather to the pretty patterned decorative paper to the whimsical charms - it’s my favorite kit out of all the five we tried out! The size of the traveler’s notebook is perfect for putting in a handbag without being too small or bulky. I also love the simplicity of the design along with its whimsical touches. A pricey kit, but worth every cent!

Rating: 5 butterfly charms out of 5

Travels Beyond Another traveler’s notebook kit! This is for a passport size book and the cover is made from laminated cardstock instead of pleather. Also, the paper for the inserts are dot grid instead of blank. And since it’s smaller sized, the paper is noticeably thinner than the previous kit - about the same quality as the plushie kit. The paper for the covers are maps - which are a very nice aesthetic that fits in with the traveler’s journal theme. Like the pleather kit, this one also comes with all the bookbinding essentials. There’s enough paper to make three inserts - you just need a paper cutter so they’d be passport sized.

This kit is pretty simple - something you can make at home of you have all or most of the supplies. However the tricky part was laminating the cover, which took me a couple tries. There were a lot of air bubbles but I didn’t want to waste supplies so I did my best to pop them with the bone folder and that ended up working better than I thought. There’s not too much to say about the kit except that I love the aesthetic, especially the airplane charm!

Rating: 4,5 airplane charms out of 5

Secret Belgian Binding After watching a tutorial on this method of bookbinding, I was intrigued. There’s not a lot of kits for this binding so it was like finding a rare bug or fish when we came across it online. The binding looks complicated but the actual process is easier than we thought! Also the cover bends all the way back, which is cool! So we’ve got the essentials as well as high quality chipboard for the covers. There’s colorful paper for the pages - all pretty decent quality and colors of the rainbow. The selection of decorative paper for the inside cover is colorful too, adding a much needed pop of color to the cover.

The front cover is a cutout, so the kit also comes with patterns and templates as well as blades. Basically you cut the templates, tape them on the cover, and cut out the shapes. It’ll take a few tries to go through the chipboard and it’s best to practice on a scrap so you’ll be comfortable with the blade. I love how the cover turned out - not bad for my first time doing something like this! And the binding was pretty fun! Like I said, it’s not as complicated as I thought it would be and it turned out very nice! However it does involve quite a bit of prep - like making a spine and stitching the cover first then the signatures - so I recommend using a cutting mat to make sure the measurements are even or else the cover will turn out wonky.

Rating: 4.25 cardboard flower cutouts out of 5

junebug|previous|ao3|next

#animal crossing #Animal Crossing City Folk #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

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knittinginfrance · 6 years

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Hi there, how are you doing? I hope you are enjoying your summer whether you are working or on vacation. Here in Europe we are suffering this amazing heat wave and I’m starting to crave a little cooler weather. Not cold weather, just a little less hot. Too hot makes knitting difficult (sweaty hands).

I am not yet on vacation so I’m just knitting some around my work schedule and after work.

Since last week I have managed to finish two items that I would like to share with you.

First there is my Main Street summer tee by Pip and Pin. This is now all done, washed and blocked. This was a fun pattern and I think I just might make a second one in a different yarn later. I might make the second version a little longer as the pattern calls for a somewhat cropped tee. And as there are less than 30 projects for this pattern on Ravelry I entered mine into the Unsung Heros kal being held by Amber of the Yarn Hoarder podcast.

I also managed to finish my first pair of Stitch Surfer Socks also part of a kal this time being run by Michelle and Leslie of the Knotty Knit Wits.

This is a very fun sock pattern and it actually goes quickly. I was not able to mirror the socks as I wanted so I have now cast on for a second pair.

Here is pair number one:

I’m now knitting a smaller pair for my youngest daughter. I’m using the same solid yarn as in my pair and then a self striping yarn from Biscottes Yarn.

This time around I’m hoping I will understand the instructions fully and be able to make the socks mirror each other.

I also finished another pair of socks a while ago and just never got to show you a picture of the finished pair. I had knit sock one as part of a test knit and then had cast on for the second sock only to then set it aside in my mountain of wips.

I finally picked it up again and finished the second sock and I’m so happy with the finished pair. The pattern is just amazing. It is called Narcissa Socks by Jo Ann Klim.

The yarn is Hippo for Thanksgiving by Lolo Did It.

I am still working on my Milu shawl. I’m now only 4 garter ridges from cast off so that should be done later this week. I really love the colors and yarns I chose for this project and I’m sure I will give this shawl lots of use come winter.

This pictures gives you an idea of the color palette I chose even if it does not show the pattern well. It is all scrunched up on my needle.

So this week I’m hoping to finish the shawl, make good progress on my second pair of Stitch Surfer socks and also work as much as I can on my secret sweater test knit. Even if the sweater test knit is in a DK weight it is taking it’s time to knit, I think because it is knit in pieces and my purling takes longer than knitting stockinette.

I have until August 12 to finish and I’m almost at the shoulders on the back piece. Everything else is waiting to be knit so I have to hurry up some to meet the deadline.

Other than that, not much news to share. I’m still running the giveaway I launched last week. Do join in and leave a comment and possibly win a personalised gift from me. You can find the details in my last post here I’m back

I hope you are doing well and enjoying your knitting in spite of the heat for those of us that are living through a heatwave:)

Thank you for stopping by again and spending time with me. Take care and happy knitting till next time.

A little knitting in this heat Hi there, how are you doing? I hope you are enjoying your summer whether you are working or on vacation.

#kal #knitalong #knitting #knitting in france #knitting pattern #ravelry #shawl knitting #sock knitting #sweater #sweater knitting

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julestriesreallyhard · 6 years

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The Project to End All Projects

That sounds super dramatic... because it is.

Okay, it’s actually just a thing. Like many crafters, I have a huge stash of WIPs (works in progress) that just accumulates over time.

In early September, I decided to bust this stash by working on only these WIPs until the end of the year, at which point I throw out anything I haven’t finished (except unused fabric, thread, etc.) Anything that’s half-done goes.

Here’s a picture of most of my WIPs when I conceived of this project, labeled and explained:

From left to right, up to down:

Overwatch Patches machine-embroidered by my mother-in-law for my husband. I’m going to buy a nice black American Giant hoodie for him and iron the patches on. It shouldn’t take long once I’ve gathered the supplies.

Goodwill Dress: I bought a striped winter dress with pockets from Goodwill that’s about two sizes too large for me. We’ll see how well I can alter it to fit. In theory, making things smaller is a breeze...

Tank Top: I bought a beautiful stretch woven from Joann a few years ago that’s just a bit too sheer for my tastes. So I lined with a white cotton that’s completely wrong for the fabric. As a result, the drape is awful. I’m going to try removing the lining. That said, I’m not super excited about the pattern anyway. I have some spare fabric, so maybe I can turn the whole project into something I like better.

Butterick C6168 by Lisette: Got this one around the same time as I got the fabric for the “Tank Top” I’ve forgotten the name of. I started sewing it out of a quilting cotton that I’ve since fallen out of love with due to its feel. Still, the print is nice.

Rug (Yarn on Burlap): I did technically promise to make this for my friend Pooja, knowing that it’s a big undertaking and that I often run out of steam 10% in. Well... I did. Still, I think it would be a cool project to eventually finish. We’ll see what happens to this one.

Made by Rae Ruby Tank: I bought this because I went to the store looking for a new project (while I still had 70% of these WIPs on the back burner...) The fabric is pretty and it’s a nice, clean pattern, but I’m not sure it’s my style, so we’ll see what happens to this one.

Discworld Embroidery: This is the last of the hoodies I’m embroidering for my bridesmaids (and yes, the wedding was almost six months ago.) I could finish it soon, or I could learn needlepainting first and do a much better job of it later. We’ll see!

Green Fat Quarters: I bought these when I was trying out English Paper Piecing (EPP.) It turns out that isn’t really my thing. However, I now have this fabric lying around that I’m not sure what to do with. I could toss it or I could make it into something small--potentially a treat bag, since the one we bought was a dud.

Apron for Mom: bought the fabric for this apron two Christmases ago. Oh well... I don’t plan on using a pattern for this, I plan on modeling it after an apron we have in the kitchen that’s just lovely and very useful. This one can wait until close to Christmas.

Leftover fabric from that mysterious tank top.

Navy leggings from Megan Nielsen Patterns: These were a great introduction to using stretch fabrics and MN’s instructions are a dream, but in terms of usability, the leggings leave much to be wanted--specifically, the pattern can’t be easily altered to add pockets, which I feel are crucial when it comes to sportswear. Plus, the original pair that I made, I added lace to the bottom following an out of commission picture from Etsy, and I didn’t like the result at all.

Stained Skirt: I loved this skirt, but bloodstains happen when you’re a disorganized lady. I decided to “upcycle” it in a flash of inspiration that quickly died. The style I was going for is cool, but it’s not the kind of thing I’d wear.

Ogden Cami: Found a lovely cotton double gauze at the local small-business fabric shop and bought about two yards of it. I decided to try it out on the Ogden Cami by True Bias Patterns (https://shop.truebias.com/product/ogden-cami.) On second thought, the Ogden really isn’t my style. I prefer closer-fitting clothes, which do a better job of showing my figure (which I’m happy with) while concealing a bit more of my skin (which I’m not happy with.)

Two off-the-shoulder tops that I won’t wear without straps for the sake of modesty and comfort.

Floss for Miniature Needle Painting Book: After seeing some incredible photos of needle painting online, I decided to try it out. I bought a book and started working my way through it until I realized how many things I’ve started, which brings us to the present. Now, I want to finish this book before I finish the Discworld hoodie, and I want to finish the Discworld hoodie before I finish the rug. There’s a sequence of events emerging here! Good stuff. I need to buy more floss for this, though.

That’s it! Next up, the Ogden Cami, which I finished this afternoon, and a discussion of my Halloween costume which I suppose is now a WIP!

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worryinglyinnocent · 7 years

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Fic: The Most Beautiful Mistake (15/16)

Summary: Belle French and ‘Rumpel’ Gold have been best friends for a long time, ever since Belle first walked into Gold’s yarn shop. One stormy night, one bottle of wine, and a couple of heartfelt confessions later, and their relationship will never be the same again.

Rated: NC-17 overall, this chapter is T.

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[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Ten] [Eleven] [Twelve] [Thirteen] [Fourteen] [AO3]

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Fifteen

Belle was certain that Gideon was in training to be a professional soccer player. Or perhaps a ballet dancer. Either way, whatever he was doing with his feet, he was showing a skill at precisely hitting her spine with each movement that no unborn child should ever have. He hadn’t even taken his first breaths and he was kicking like a champion. Whilst she was pleased to be able to feel him and know that he was moving and healthy, she was also in so much agony that she just wanted him to stop.

“Please,” she begged, tears of pain running down her face as she leaned on the issue desk, her forehead pillowed on her arms as she tried desperately to find a position that didn’t hurt her back any more than she was already hurting. “Please Gideon, stop it. I don’t know what I did wrong but please stop kicking me! Please, baby!”

She rested one hand on her belly, rubbing gently and trying to calm him.

“If it was the sticky ribs from Granny’s that I had last night then I swear I will forsake them for the rest of my life if you just stop kicking me!” He was hitting her right on the nerve, sending spasms of pain shooting down her spine to her hips, the sensation spreading out through her body, and it was all she could do to stay upright and not collapse onto the floor.

“Belle?”

Gideon stopped moving at that moment, but his foot was still wedged against her back, the pain now a continuous one rather than a steady pounding, and Belle wailed, not looking up to see who had spoken to her. The library was empty; she was officially on her lunch break but she hadn’t been able to eat anything.

“Belle, love, what’s wrong?”

She recognised Gold’s voice through the haze of pain that was blocking out everything else, and she managed to lift her head a little bit to see him hovering in the doorway. It had always been an unwritten rule between them, one that had been reinstated with their renewed friendship, that the shop and the library were never truly closed to one another, although right now Belle wished that she’d locked the door properly to keep him out. She’d never felt more helpless, even when she’d been throwing up every five minutes and he’d managed to bear witness to that. What was it about the man that kept him popping up every time she was in a very uncomfortable position that she didn’t want anyone to see?

Of course, she could just have gone on maternity leave already and be holed up in her flat avoiding all of this, Belle told herself sharply, but the reality of the fact was that she wasn’t at all displeased to see Gold. If anyone was going to be able to help her out without a second thought, then it was him.

“Belle?” He put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong? Is Gideon causing trouble?”

She nodded against the desk. “He was kicking really hard and my back’s killing me. He’s stopped now but his foot’s still pressed against my spine and my whole lower body’s complaining.”

“Is there something that I can do to help?” Gold asked. “Would you like me to rub your back?”

“Yes.” Belle nodded eagerly, she couldn’t think of anything else that would help and hopefully some outside stimulation might get Gideon to move his damn foot. She loved her son more than anything but she thought that he might have at least a little more respect for his surroundings whilst she was still his home.

“All right. Let me know if anything hurts.”

She saw Gold’s cane hook over the edge of the issue desk, and heard him pull up her chair, sitting down behind her and placing his hands on her lower back, carefully rubbing down until he got to the place where Gideon’s foot was and Belle let out a hiss of pain, and he worked around it gently. The massage felt good, but there was something missing.

“Can you go under my top?” she asked. “The motion is great but I need to feel the heat from your hands.”

“Oh.” Gold sounded a little bit stunned.

“You don’t have to it you don’t want to,” Belle said. “But it would be much more effective skin to skin.”

“No, no, it’s all right.” He pushed the hem of her top up a little and slipped his hands up under it, replacing his fingertips on her skin and beginning to massage her again. She didn’t think that anything had felt as good as Gold’s hands did on her at that moment, and she gave a moan of happiness as he touched her. Unbidden, the memory of his hands on her before came fluttering into her mind, and she wondered if she could maybe get him to go a bit higher and massage her breasts as well. They were getting full and heavy now and every little thing to help guard against growing pains helped. She felt her face flush at the thought, and cursed her happy hormones. Slightly too happy hormones which were now fixated on the idea of him bending her over the issue desk and taking her from behind right here in the library in the middle of opening hours. Her pulse quickened at the thought and she tried to push it away, but it seemed lodged.

Finally, she felt a wave of relief as Gideon’s foot slipped away from its position and the pain began to ebb away. The shuddering groan of relief that she gave was not entirely related to the lack of pain, and although she knew that she really ought to tell Gold that his wonderful hands were no longer required, she couldn’t help but keep him there, exactly where she wanted him, for a little bit longer. He was so gentle with her, and she wanted to remember the feel of his hands on her as she knew she would be unlikely to feel them again. A little smirk crossed her face. She was going to have more problems with Gideon kicking her in unfortunate places before she gave birth, and Gold knew how to ease her aches and pains. There was always the chance of another massage from him. She sighed, a mixture of pleasure and sadness. This was a functional thing that he was doing, trying to alleviate her pain, and he didn’t mean anything more by it. Any sexual undertones that she was picking up were entirely the fault of her own overactive imagination.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, and Belle nodded, knowing that she couldn’t in good faith drag it out any longer.

“Yes, that’s much better,” she said. “You made him move his foot, which is good.”

“Glad to hear that I could be of service.” Gold pulled her top down and she heard him get up from her chair, his hand on her shoulder guiding her back down into it, and she gave him a grateful smile as he collected his cane and came round to the front of the desk.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “You really are a lifesaver.”

Gold shrugged. “I just want to help,” he said. “Whatever way I can.”

He was so sweet, she really didn’t deserve him, but Belle pushed that thought to the side. It was something that could be pondered later, when he wasn’t here. She didn’t want to mar the pleasure of his company with melancholy thoughts.

“So, what brings you to the library today? Unless you possibly have a sixth sense about when I’m in trouble and need your help.”

“Darn, I’ve been found out,” Gold said theatrically, but then he laughed. “No, this encounter is purely chance, I assure you. I was coming to give you something, actually.”

He’d given her a very lovely massage that had left her wanting more, Belle thought, but she didn’t say anything.

“What kind of a thing might that be?” she asked.

“Erm, I think it might be better if I showed you,” Gold said, and he lifted a large cloth bag up onto the issue desk. Intrigued, Belle pulled it towards her and peeped inside, gasping at what she saw.

The bag was filled with all kinds of beautifully crafted knitted toys and clothes, from the tiniest perfect little booties and mittens to the rather outsized stuffed stegosaurus who seemed to be taking up most of the room in the bag.

“Oh Rumpel,” she breathed. “These are wonderful, thank you so much.”

“I, erm, I might have gone a bit overboard,” he said, looking sheepish. “But there’s plenty in there to be going on with, and I’ve made them in increasing sizes.”

“Really, Rumpel, I don’t think it could ever be too much, you know how babies grow. These are so lovely.” She pulled out a tiny mitten and slipped it onto the end of her finger. So cute and dinky.

“It’s all cotton-based yarn,” he said. “Easy to wash on high heat.” He laughed. “That is one thing that I’ve learned from experience. Always make sure that your children’s clothes can go in the washing machine. The toys are all washable too. When Neal was younger he had this plush teddy that he never went anywhere without; it was surface wash only but, children being children, naturally Mr Ted ended up a little bit more filthy than a sponge bath could fix. I made the mistake of putting him in the machine and the poor fellow ended up completely bald.”

Belle laughed. “What did Neal say to that?”

“He was absolutely distraught at first, but then we made up a story that he’d been fighting a dragon which had burned his fur off and he was all right after that. Mr Ted was a fantasy hero of yore rather than a slightly worse for wear bear.”

Belle took the plushie dinosaur out of the bag and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s something different to the conventional teddy bear,” Gold said. “He was going to be smaller, I will admit, but the pattern that I first followed came out too small, and it was one of those whereby if you double everything, it ends up coming out four times as big instead. But… You know, if you have a toy bigger than yourself then you’ve always got a bodyguard.”

“True.”

Belle put the dinosaur back into the bag and put it under her desk to take back up the flat again later, and she returned her attention to Gold. It was now or never. She’d not been able to stop thinking about him since that night - well, not been able to stop thinking about him in that way, and now the notion was taking over her brain in the most unfortunate of times and places. If there was anything more than friendship between them, anything at all, then they were going to have to have that conversation sooner rather than later. She didn’t think that she would be able to survive to the end of her pregnancy if she didn’t set the record straight with him. True, it might just be the hormones and ridiculously increased sex drive talking, but at the same time, Belle knew that these feelings weren’t going to go away. All right, jumping straight back into bed together probably wasn’t going to be the most sensible way of gauging their feelings but, Belle thought with a wry smile, at least they wouldn’t have to worry about possibly getting pregnant this time. She thought back to the night that they had spent together and how everything had panned out, wondering how they could have read each other so wrongly.

Perhaps, just maybe, there was the possibility that they hadn’t been reading each other wrongly after all. They’d jumped to massively the wrong conclusions afterwards, when it had come to the baby. There was definitely precedent.

“What are you thinking about?” Gold asked presently. “You’re frowning at the middle distance.”

Instead of saying anything remotely related to what she had been thinking about, Belle decided on a tactical retreat.

“It’s forecast to storm tonight,” she said. Gold grimaced.

“Yeah, I read. I was thinking…”

Belle’s heart leapt to her mouth. This would not be the first storm that they had weathered since that night, but it would be the first that they had spent together.

“Yes?” she prompted.

“You know how much I worry about you when you come over in the storms,” Gold continued. “And you have to know that I’ll be worrying about you even more given your current condition.”

“Oh. Yes.” Belle tried not to let her disappointment show in her voice or on her face. “Yes, you’re right. There’s no reason to take any unnecessary risks with the little one.”

“Could I come over to yours instead?” Gold asked.

For a moment Belle was too stunned by the suggestion to answer. He’d been in her flat enough times over the years but during storms she went to him, it had always been the way.

“I mean, if you don’t want to that’s fine but…”

“No, no, I’d love you to come,” Belle interrupted quickly, wanting to head him off at the pass before he got completely the wrong impression again and they ended up setting their friendship and possibly tentative relationship back even further. “You’d be very welcome. I’ll make sure that the kettle’s on.”

Gold smiled. “Thank you.”

“Just make sure that you come over in plenty of time before it hits, I don’t want to have to come out with a torch to look for you.”

Gold crossed his heart with a soft chuckle. “I swear that after telling you not to come out for fear of you and the baby being struck by lightning, I will not make you come out with a search party. I guess I’ll see you later then? They’re thinking it’ll hit town around seven.”

“I’ll expect you before seven, then.” Belle smiled as Gold left the library with a wave, and she sat back in her chair with a sigh of contentment, rubbing over her belly. This would be their turning point. If anything was going to happen, it would be tonight.

Her phone buzzed with the arrival of a message; it was from Ruby.

Please don’t go out in the storm tonight.

Belle rolled her eyes and replied: I won’t. Rumpel’s coming over to mine instead.

There was a long pause before Ruby replied.

Do you think tonight might be the night?

Well, Belle certainly hoped it would be, although the night for quite what she still wasn’t sure. She decided to downplay it.: The night for what?

The response, a split second later, was an emoji rolling its eyes.

Telling him how you feel about him, of course. If you catch him during the storm then he won’t be able to run away!

Belle sighed. It was certainly a true statement but it wasn’t right to use his fear to her advantage like that. But being together in close quarters, both of them with their guard lowered, it did seem like the perfect opportunity to actually sit down and lay her feelings on the line - and since neither of them would be able to go anywhere, it would really force them to actually talk about where they were going, rather than each of them avoiding the subject - and avoiding each other physically - in order to spare each other’s feelings.

Maybe. And what do you know about my feelings anyway?

I hate to say it, girl… Belle could hear Ruby’s voice saying the words in her head as she read them. But it’s not exactly been subtle. For all you talk about him being your best friend, I know you want to be more than that. You wouldn’t be in the position you’re in now if you didn’t. I think maybe the only person who’s not picking up on those signals is Gold. Just remember to speak in words of one syllable and use diagrams if necessary.

Belle had to snort at that, and she gave a sigh. Perhaps there was some truth in Ruby’s words. Before she had started going out with Gaston, she didn’t think that she had been all that subtle in her overtures towards Gold, the insinuations that she wanted to be more than just friends, and she had come to the conclusion that since he showed no signs of responding to said overtures, he evidently didn’t want to me more than just friends and so she had given up and settled for Gaston instead.

Now Belle was not quite as sure. During the last few months she had been forced to question all the things that she thought she knew about herself and Rumpel and confront the reality that so much of her relationship with him had been based on assumptions. Now she just wanted to know the truth, no matter what that was, so that she could begin this next stage of her life without any more misconceptions or falsehoods. She had begun her pregnancy with fear and secrets, and it had only led to even more problems. She could not and would not bring her child into the messy world that she’d helped to create around herself. It was time to do the brave thing, for both her own sake and that of Gideon.

With a new-found determination and steel in her stance, Belle left the issue desk and went over to get the children’s corner ready for storytime. She had already taken to reading bedtime stories to Gideon even now, getting him ready for when he was born and it would become a regular fixture. She hoped that she could get Rumpel to read some of her favourites to their son as well; although he denied it he had a beautiful voice for reciting, his accent perfect for lullabies. Belle wondered if he knew any traditional Scottish ones that he had sung to Neal when he had been a child, and she smiled at the thought of Rumpel singing.

Outside, the wind was beginning to howl in preparation for the evening’s forecast storm, and Marian and Roland were blown into the library on a particularly strong gust. Roland immediately ran over to pick through the picture books, and Marian came over to Belle.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“He’s training to be a soccer player already, but other than that we’re going ok.” Belle glanced down at the Harlequin romances that were sitting in the top of Marian’s bag ready to be returned, and her thoughts rushed involuntarily to her slightly less innocent symptoms. Heat suffused her face, and Marian grinned.

“You’ve reached that stage, then?”

Belle nodded sheepishly.

“Well, I’ve finished these if you want to take them off the shelves for personal use. I don’t think anyone would mind.” The other woman winked as she handed over the books and Belle sped off to check them back in and surreptitiously hide them under the issue desk.

She hoped that she wasn’t going to need them, but it paid to be prepared for all eventualities.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #Belle French #woobie!Rumpel #rumbaby #Fic: The Most Beautiful Mistake

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bifacialler · 7 years

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jesus Ler posted a fic-something somebody call the police

So it’s been 9 months - I looked it up, that’s how long it has been - when @jupiter235 left me a prompt that was... “royal/peasant AU”, I think?

And so I immediately had this idea, which was that stupid cliche fantasy stuff we all love to hate and hate to love, and also in some smaller part of my brain I remember some fine humorous Russian fantasy I grew up with.

Then, I listened to some good old Russian fold rock - followed by the ethnic explosion in my brain, and the concept of THIS was born.

And so “The Forge-Sister and the Silver Heart” was born, which sturdily became technically less about Bog and Marianne Mar’yanna, and more about... women? Mothers, daughters, lovers. Witches, born and becoming. Fate, calling, and destiny. Love, in variations. I’m personally a big fan of Plum in this, like she is half of the reason this piece is becoming what it is.

Be warned: this is a) like a prologue since Bog is not even a part of the story (yet, depends, I kinda want to see how this launches off), and b) it’s different from my usual writing style? Like I’m using actual badly formed sentences, and like descriptions, to set the mood and stuff, and not suffering a sever case of post-poetic verbal constipation. You should be all proud of my attempts. I’m growing as a writer.

Please let me know what you think (I’m not posting it on AO3 just yet, let’s see how it goes).

The First Song: On rising winds

The fire kindled quietly in the small iron stove. The dancing orange glow behind the ornate iron grate send long and dusky shadows to run over the walls, painted with colourful pictures of exotic birds, the carved filigree of the windowsill in flowers and vines, bouquets of dried herbs adorning the curved ceiling in lavish garlands, and the Gypsy, a shawl of green and blue, tall hair in hues and curls, tied with a glimmering scarf, her skirt swapping the floor. She stepped as if in a dance, cast bracelets ringing when she wrapped herself tighter, a glance of mock fury thrown over her shoulder, and the children, brown bear fur coats up to the red frosty buttons of their noses, dropped snow in melting blobs on the clean wooden floor before the closed door and shuffled on their feet.

They were not scared - fine, maybe a bit - and she was not angry. See, it was a game, the one they played quite often. The gypsy would turn, in a dewdrop patter of coins on her clothes, and pull her painted bright lips into a thin line, hands hard and demanding on her hips, everything about her a-clatter.

«What do you want?» she would ask, their barbaric language becoming poetry in her mouth, knowing full well the answer, and the children would mutter between themselves, until the smallest, with red knitted fur-trimmed gloves and golden messy curls falling over her face, would step forward, flap eyelashes over her huge green eyes and a smile with a single missing front tooth.

«A stowy, Pl’uma!»

And the others would nod and call in agreement. «Yes, Pl’uma, tell us a story!»

«Fine!» Pluma the Gypsy would smirk at a way their tongues struggled with her foreign name, raising a finger to her lips, and tapping pensively. «But what do you have for me in return?»

This part changed: sometimes there were coins, small coppers found or received for sweets, or honeyed nuts, or, sometimes, a doll, dry straw and colourful yarn and shiny black button eyes, and in autumn, there were apples, red like a maiden’s blush and sweet like her kisses. New songs, fresh gossip, little secrets from these little people. They brought her flower crowns in spring, and handfuls of berries in summer, but as time would have it, the cold swept the land, smell of winter cutting sharply into lungs with a gust of frost through the mountain pass and the price had to be payed, because nothing was free. They should have known, they should have started to learn, even at their age, that nothing was free.

Her hand stretched forward expectantly.

«Well, off with it.»

The small girl looked back, her friends nudging forward, and signed in an unabridged dismay, tugging on her coat, under the thick scarf with dripping tassels, and pulling out a small ball of white fur and life that crooned softly, disturbed from his sleep.

«We found it in a bawn,» she said and passed it, a tiny creature with wide scared dark eyes, to be placed onto a surface of flat open palms with long dark painted claw-nails. «Mama is not letting me keep it.»

A small nose sniffed, a wet mitten swiped over puffed cheeks. Other petted between a pair of perky white ears. The girl’s sigh was nothing but wistful.

Pluma pondered, while the cat-creature’s pink nose poked against her thumb and a scrawny head, barely a few weeks old, the last batch of autumn, perhaps, looked around with curiosity, inherent to his kind. It would not have survived a winter, not alone, but there were things that had to be said. The beast opened its maw and let out a loud hungry call.

Pluma nodded. «I accept this trade. A cat will do this house good.»

She glanced around her wagon, before going to the cupboard above the stove. Cat placed on her shoulder, she retrieved a wooden bowl and filled it with thick white liquid. «But this is a serious gift, children.» Her look was pointed and sharp, even as she set her new pet on the floor together with the bowl, softly touching its short ruffled fur. «A gift of life is not the one to be given lightly.»

The children, all five of them, all different ages and faces and families, the baker twins, the innkeeper’s son, and, of course, the Elderman’s youngest, huddled like sparrows at her door in a mess of grey and brown and wool. Just children.

The kitten drank loudly, in large hungry gulps. «I think I have a story I can tell you,» Pluma stood up and motioned towards the bench before the stove, before busying herself with the pot starting to boil over. They didn’t wait - coats pulled off and tossed on the floor, legs untangled from heavy boots, they rushed to the seat, climbing on with their feet, few leaning on the table.

«Is it about a pwince?» The young one hopped excitedly, and Nad’ya, the farmer’s girl, large and soft-spoken, tried to make her sit still, like a frustrated mother, redoing her messy braids. «I want one with a pwince in it.»

«Oh, it has a prince alright,» the gypsy hummed, pulling out sugared dry-breads and jug of freshly brewed herbal tea. «But more importantly, this is a story about giving a life.» Nails scratched against wood. “And taking one.”

The cat, satiated, warm and more comfortable, parted from his food, rubbing itself against her boot.

The fire crinkled, shooting sparks, and the wind started to howl outside, slowly rising. Tea steaming from crude clay mugs - sage and thyme and just a bit of fire root against the colds of coming days - she settled on the stool, lighting the stick of essence behind her back, filling the room with memories of faraway lands she remembered as if she had been there the day before.

«Once upon a time, away from the borders of our Svetovir, beyond the sea in a Kingdom of Storms lived a King and a Queen. The King was tall and proud,” she sat up, chin raised high, her voice dropping, and the children sniggered. “With a strong jaw and wide shoulders, and the eyes of brightest sky-blue. He ruled his land from the Eye of Storms, a tall tower-like fortress on the edge of the ever-tempest seas, and his rule was harsh yet just, and he was equally feared and respected. The King loved his people, but even more than that, the King-” and she paused, picking up the cat and setting it on her lap. “The King loved his Queen.”

“Was she pretty?” That was Elza, the less bearable one of the ginger duplets, face in a polka dot pattern of freckles that danced cheekily whenever she grinned and she grinned a lot. “The Queen usually is pretty. Or kind. Except in our country.”

The gypsy’s fluttering hands stopped.

“Well, someone has been listening to conversations that there were not old enough for,” the girl bowed her head, freckled face going aflame, but Pluma just smiled. “Don’t know if she was pretty, and I can’t quite call her kind. But they said that the Queen was like the thunderstorm itself, her hair glowing like a fire catching a branch after a lightning had struck it, and in her was the warmth of a fireplace and a joy of battle. She was the home where the King was the country. And most importantly, the Queen loved her King.”

She took a sip, and listened to the wind. It hummed in low baritone, gently starting to rock her humble abode, much alike last year, and the year before that, but this time, there was something in its song, a worried note that she couldn’t quite put a finger on. If Pluma could tell any better, it sounded slightly… distressed, if a wind could.

“They lived in peace and harmony, as much of harmony and peace the people of the Storm could have, for their nation is one of vigor and glory, joyous bubbling chaos and united community, but the years went on, and sadness creeped into the tall walls of the Storm’s capital. For as much as the King and the Queen loved each other, they couldn’t have a child.”

“They should have buried a coin,” Kaleb grunted, and the rest picked up approvingly.

The cup made it halfway to the gypsy’s lips before going back down. “Excuse me?”

“Everyone knows that if you want a child, you have to bury a coin in the cabbage patch. In return you get a baby,” Nad’ya, tying a bow in wavy blond curls, examining it, undid it into two dangling ribbons, her thick fingers dancing with easy practiced grace.

“Aren’t you well educated, children,” snigger stuffed into her cup. “Your parents told you that?”

“Our parents buried two,” Elza nudged her brother with her elbow, with an evil kind of smirk only children were capable of. “His was rusted.” Pyotr, bird-boned, white-skinned, rubbed his arm with a frown.

“This is fascinating, but on to the story.” Back straight, cat purring on her lap as it pawed the string of beads, Pluma turned her head so that her profile would glow in the light of the stove and throw a shadow on the wall above them. “The King and the Queen prayed for a child, to their God and ones beyond, but no one answered. They called to all the healers and whisperers, but none could give them a solution. And then, one day, a ship arrived in the capital’s harbor, carrying traders and their goods, just like it does in our land, except that on that ship arrived an old man with skin as dark as coal, his hair gray like ash. He came to the King and said:

“I know of your troubles and I give you solution. Take a ship and go south-west, straight to the edge of the earth. There you will find a land unlike yours, verdant and full of life, yet hot like the sun itself. Walk it like a common man would, till you sweat nine sweats and wear off nine pairs of boots, and then you will find the one, who sings the birdsongs and wears the feathers, who can brew love into a potion, who knows the secrets of life and can cheat death itself-”

Mouth agape, crumbs sticking to her face and in her golden hair, Sophia gasped. “A biwd-witch!” The others hushed at her like she just cursed.

“Father said there are no such things as bird-witches,” sitting straight and proper, Nad’ya curled her hands around the cup. “They are made to scare children into doing their chores.” She rolled her eyes at such ‘childish’ idea. “Do your housework or the bird-witch will come at night and steal you away.”

Little rose lips plumped, the smallest girl huffed. “Na-ah! Bwother said he saw a biwd-witch once. She was an old hag with a cwooked nose and wotten teeth and-”

Elbow perched on her crossed knees, Pluma rubbed her temples with a cringe. “Yes, whatever would we do without Rolànd and his sure mastery of all things. Now, do you want to listen to the story or not?”

A choir of little voices rose in agreement. Still flustered, yet appeased by another sugared bread, the girl tugged down her skirt - and not just a skirt, but a little masterpiece with red flowers in red wool blooming along the dirty rim, surrounded by green leaves and even a few colored glass beads, not unheard off in Prval, but not common either - something a few would actually wear in their day to day life. Like the Elderman’s favorite little girl, for example. Or Pluma herself.

“But you were right. The old man talked about a bird-witch from a far away land, and the very next day the King kissed his Lady Queen goodbye and set away to find her, with a fleet of his finest ships, their bellies full of greatest treasures. He travelled for months and month, through storms that sunk ships and still waters that drove men mad. And only when he barely had any hope left, the land appeared before him, with tall sand walls of cities, temple pyramid roofs rising over them, and further, where dry earth turned into a deep forest, above which mountains tore the sky with their white fang-peaks...”

The wagon filled with eerie silence, interrupted with quiet munching, crackling fire and the old boards of the wagon creaking. The cat purred, gnawing her fingers, and further into the depth of her home, colorful curtains fell over her pillow-covered bed in a feeble attempt at seaming comfort. They sat, unmoving, mystified, with that glimmer in their eyes that one day may have grown into something that would have set them on a road away from this town on a road through a mountain pass. There are men and women who did this every year, young people who thought that there was more to life than stories Pluma told them. Oh, the parents should have run her off from this spot years ago -

- and she would have left, but all the places started to be the same a long time ago, they were the same and not home, they were the same and different, not where she wanted to be, not where she belonged.

Pluma swallowed as her mouth ran dry.

“It was glorious, children. Blindingly bright, loud with music and voices, it was a land of scholars and tradesmen, of rulers and reverent beggars. But all of that didn’t matter to the King. He searched the land - dressed in black and leather, as it was the custom of his people, sweating the nine sweats and wearing off nine pairs of fine high boots - up the mountains and down the valleys, along rivers and in the deepest of forests. Slowly, his people left him, taken by disease and vices, and all his treasures disappeared, exchanged for goods and favours, but he found her. A handful of men by his side, he found her…”

Trembling feet tucked under the stool, she breathed, and fingers flying to her aching chest.

“The air was hot and arid, in spice and cinder, oils, cedar and saffron seed, and the sun was a fiery lover, filling the wings with shine as they flirted with the winds. Her clothes were silks, and trinkets were gold, her winds, long and colorful, handing down back, and hundreds of flowers adorned her home as she herself was adorned, loved and cherished. The daughters of the richest men came to her doorstep and asked for beauty and love, for health and long life, and paid with jewels and cloth and exotic foods. He too came to her, tall and proud and hopeful, and asked her to make a life where there was none. He told her of a love and of a country and of a family, and she listened. And when he was done, she said that he was asking for something that she was not able to give.

‘How?’ said the King, his proud wide shoulders falling. ‘I travelled across the seas and sweated nine sweats and wore off nine pairs of boots but you turn me away?!’

The bird-witch in blues and emeralds and sparkling pinks just shook her head. ‘If you asked for health, I would have given you elixirs. If you asked for strength, my answer would have been a brew. But you ask for a new life to be created, and for a life to be given one has to be taken. This is not the magic of my kind.’

“But I was told!.. shouted the King stomping his foot,” - Pluma’s fist hit the table and the cups clattered. “I was promised!”

“Well, not by me! The bird-witch was having none of it. So fool on you!”

“So the old man lied to him?” Pyotr’s delicate hands drummed on the shawl covering the table. “But shouldn’t the King have figured it out? You said he was smart.”

“My dear child,” Pluma’s tone, turning soft with a kindness that came from pain too personal for them to understand. “The King was smart. He was wiser than most, and kinder than some, and he was righteous in his own right. But this world is made of powers beyond us, powers we can’t control. And to some those powers do good, and to other they do bad.” She glided her hands over the cloth, straightening an invisible wrinkle. “Do you know, children, what is the greatest power of them all? I already gave you the-”

“It’s love, isn’t it?” Nadya’s stern gaze was directed to the window, but she clearly addressed herself towards the gypsy. “It’s always love in these sort of stories. Love conquers all.”

Nadya’s, the farmer’s daugher from the home unfull, always had plump red cheeks and a stern voice, too… tired for her age. “It doesn’t, though. Right?”

“Love conquers some. And some,” Pluma bowed her head, and the smell of sandalwood filled her nostril. “Some, it ruins.”

“And what ruined the King is that he loved so very deeply. So what he did next, he did out of a great fear, that his heart and the heart of his Queen would never be complete. And so he left, in the day, but came back in the night, with the ropes and the gags, and he bound her all up, and he gazed upon the bird-witch and said: You are lying to me. You can bottle love and you can return youth, you can give strength to the feeble and make any girl more beautiful than the next. You say a life should be given for a life to be made? Well, how about I give you yours.”

The wagon rocked with a sudden strong gust of the wind. The wooden walls, curving in an arch above her head creaked, and the children squeezed from the sudden movement, mimicked by something awaked under another shawl in the back of the wagon. A couple of confused little tweets - and it went silent again.

The gypsy stood up to check upon it, and then returned, patting the walls on her way. “Don’t worry, this old thing can stand through a dozen more winters harsher than this.”

“Pl’uma, what did the King do?”

Heart heavy, she sighed. “The King stole her away. He stole her away, her feathers ripped off her back so she won’t escape, using her own belongings to pay his way. He traveled with her back to the sea, and whenever he went the birds stopped singing and the flowers dropped their bloom. He bought himself a ship with the jewels the Sultans of White Mountains once threw at her feet for a single smile. And with a sail raised, the King set himself back to the high cliffs of his home.”

“Sail ripped and tattered, and the King himself battered, he returned home, where storms themselves turned against him. He kneeled before his Queen, and weeped. Bird-witch locked away in chains down below, he weeped: I have failed you, my love. She will not give us what we seek-”

“Maybe he should not have taken her away from her home, if he wanted for her be nice.” Piotr noted, carefully examining the bottom of his mug.

“Oh, this is where it gets interesting, children. For while the Queen brought the King to her heart, drowning his sorrow, the bird-witch, a child of skies and magic, heart-sister, who could make women beautiful and men young, who sang heart-songs of that made love bloom, scrathed her claws against the walls of her prison, and tugged the remaining feathers off her back-”

- in her mouth they went, feather and nail and bone, and blood and pain, and the foreign skies frowned and weeped at her song, and ripped at themselves in thunder and lightning as she ripped at her bare skin -

“- and cursed him, the King, and all his kin, and sang the rights that were not hers to sing but she sang them anyway, that deep went her hate and fury, such foreign feelings for someone once bathed only in adoration.

“A life for a life, she wailed, a Princeling for a King. For where one life will begin the other will end. For every strenght - a weakness, for every truth - a lie. And love itself - just loss. Loss and heartache.”

Sophia meeped, tucking herself under Nad’ya arm. “Bird-witches are scawy.”

“Oh, child. Bird-witches are daughters of Earth and Sky, their craft as old as the time itself. But they are also, most importantly, women. And there is nothing more dangerous as a woman scorned.”

“So like our mom,” Elza chewed, and swallowed, whipping her mouth with the back of her hand. “She has this look when Papa comes from the market a bit… you know…” She leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. “Drunk.”

“So she did give them a child, just as the King wanted? And he let her go?”

“She did, telling him just that, and well, the King, regretful, brought her back her feathers, but she didn’t leave. The bird-witch stayed right there, in her dungeon, waiting: through summer winds that carried the scent of wild-flowers, and their brothers, the autumn ones, cold and fresh, to the very snow of winter, in the midst of which, in the darkest of night, rose a Great Wind, the likes of which was never seen even in the Kingdom of Storms. It rolled clouds into cyclones, roared with thunder, and flashed with lightning, and in the witching hour, just before the walls of the castle erupted with the voice of a new heir, one of the tongues struck the Grand Tower, setting it on fire. It burned so bright, it turned the sky aflame. That very fire took the life of the proud King of Storms. And left the Queen with a child, that turned quieter by the minute. Because if the King’s heart was his strongest, for the Princeling’s small heart was his weakest.”

“So the Queen, proud as she was, fire-hair falling down her back, went to the witch, and begged her-”

Blood down her gown, sweat still to her brow, babe to her chest - ‘A life for a life, and this one’s life is not yours to take.’

‘This life was not yours to have from the start, Storm-sister. This is not our fate. ’

‘A life for a life and my child has done nothing to you! But you took from me, so give back. Know your prices, Heart-sister.’

“-and the Bird-witch gave up. Of her neck, she took a small silver bell, that ran like dewdrops falling on the edge of a sword, like tears on the strings of a lute, a gift from the lover long gone, and pulled it over the Princes’ head. And just as she did, ringing it, the child started to cry, and the small hairs of raven wing on his head turned stark silvery white.

‘From now on, this is your son’s heart,’ said the Bird-witch to the Queen. ‘And as long as he lives, it must be with him. Keep a good eye on him. For if he loses it, there would be nothing you could do.’

“And then the Bird-witch, her curse fulfilled, wrapped herself into her wings, turned into the Great bird of Heaven, and flew out of the window. The Queen never saw her again.”

Stretching her back, the Gypsy, let out a moan. “And that’s the end of the story, children, and about what one asks for, and the prices one must pay.”

They stared.

“But the Pwince, what about the Pwince?!”

“Well, I have a few ideas, but they are for some other time, and some other story-”

Something slammed against the door, followed by a row of hard knocks.

“Pl’uma! Open up!” The voice belonged to a woman, and ran as loud as the wind, or maybe even louder, a hammer of a hand unstoppable in its insistent knocking. “I really hope all those kids you have there are in one piece and preferably not in a cooked state!”

Their distress forgotten, the mentioned children giggled as Pluma turned their way with a mock gasp. “Oh no, children, the evil blacksmith has come to take you away! Run, children, quickly, before she gets you and makes you work at her forge! Run!”

Rolling out to the door, cat petted on the way out, they dressed, quickly and messily, Elza waving her hands around like ‘the Bird-Witch’, and Sophia tugged on Pluma’s colorful skirt.

“Can I come and play with the kitty tomowow?” she asked, scarf askew, her coat closed on all the wrong buttons, which they immediately rectified together.

“Yes, of course, dear, if the weather’s good.” The gypsy tapped the button of her nose, and the child laughed. “Now quickly, get dressed, your momma will be worried if you don’t get home before the storm hits.”

The door opened and they poured out, loud and fast, and a person calling them pushed herself flush against the side of the gypsy’s home.

“Come on, quickly,” a woman, short and sturdy - no, a girl, her age betrayed by the still soft oval of her face, yet already touched by the prices one must pay - clapped her hands, as the children hurried scurried pass her - except for the Soph, of course, who stopped by her side and did a little curtsy.

“Thank you, Tet’a Maw’yanna.” She paused, her lips pursed, and then smacked her own forehead. “Daddy weally likes the swowd you made him.”

“Well, I hope he does. He paid good money for it.” The blacksmith raised her hand out of the large gorge of a pocket, huge in comparison to her narrow and long palm and fingers, in stars of red and white burn scars, and slowly, with hesitation, descended it upon the child’s head, patting it, first uncertainly, but then with almost wistful warmth as golden curls tangled under her touch. “Run along to your mother, little bird.”

The girl started after her friends south, where the outskirt road pulled into the main one, better, and a small hike to the gates of the Prval - the Golden tooth of the Svetovir mountain range, the one and only way to the North Kingdoms for miles to go, and it could have been a major trade hub. Could have, if not for the Storm.

The wind played with the stray hairs, sticking out of the blacksmith’s messy obruch - not a young girl’s hairstyle, even by a long shot, but at least she did that. At least she didn’t cut her hair at all.

Head still turned in the children’s wake, the craftswoman hummed. “She will grow up… so pretty.”

“Ain’t everyone in that family just that?”

“Pluma, don’t.”

“I heard the strangest thing, Mar’yanna.”

“Don’t,” the blacksmith snapped her head and cringed with a heavy stare. Six years, and it only got better - her winded lip twisting with a sharp angle exposing gritted teeth, and the smash of raw emotion cutting through her yellow eyes that still made the gypsy catch her breath. What gifts this girl had, some gave up everything for less. If only that what was given was taken - then even Pluma herself would have thought twice to poke at her. But the blacksmith was as stubborn as she was talented, and the gypsy, well, she had a habit of been bored a lot.

“Apparently children think they were found in the cabbage, Mar’yanna. Did your father find you in the cabbage as well?”

“No, I was found amidst horseradish - what do you think?”

“That would explain your bitter attitude, dear.” Lock of hair tucked under her gold-thread headscarf, Pluma wrapped herself tighter into her shawl against the crashing wind that shook her home. “Do you think this is the one?”

The girl shrugged, the mass of bear fur rising and falling, eyes trailed towards the far-off edge of the sky, where clouds gathered into a large wall of grey. Her thin lips pursed in disapproval. “Looks like it. It’s late this year, though.”

The Gypsy stepped down the small wooden stairs, boots immediately sinking into the snow, skirts billowing by her feet. She stood still, breathing, icy air filling her lungs, and listened to the voice of the skies, its concerned song, as if it was a song for her, yet so foreign that she couldn’t quite get the words.

It sounded like a warning.

“Maybe it was waiting for someone?”

Mar’yanna groaned. “Well, I don’t know about someone, but it was probably waiting for your koftan to be done?”

Weather forgotten, Gypsy almost jumped in excitement.

“She finished it? Show me, show me!”

Burlap sack almost ripped out of worm hands, she dug in, pulling out a thick heavy coat, tailored, with dark fur trim, and a wide embroidered pattern all the way around the edges, and blooming flowers on silky material. Pressing her face into a large fur collar, Pluma smelled lavender and sage, the tale of mountains and forests, so common to this particular place. All things considered, Prval had its charms.

“Your father should count himself a lucky man, having daughters like you two.” Shawl shrugged off right there on the snow, she pulled the coat on, and gave a sigh of relief from the immediate prickling of hard fur through all the layers of her clothes, and the steadily growing inkling of warmth. Latches closed with deft fingers, hands patted down the narrow fitted waist, and Pluma the Gypsy nodded, turning back and forth. “By the sky, he’d better.”

Mar’yanna leaned against the painted wood, her thumbs hooked over the rope of her belt.

“You should worry less about my father, and more about how you will pay. This is a lot of a material, expensive material, those clips alone took me time-”

One half-turn, collar raised, and Pluma poised at her with something of a long forgotten wicked charm. “I know my prices, dear. When did Pluma ever do you wrong?”

The blacksmith just rolled her eyes.

“Just what did you promise my sister?”

With a wink and a wave of a hand, Pluma disappeared into her wagon, shuffling through her cupboards, pulling out bottles and jars of colorful glass, tugging a few bands of herbs off the ceiling, and a final step, opening a large trunk, which served as one of the benches, and taking out a small pouch of dark velvet.

The craftswoman stepped in, knocking snow off her boots. “If you really think that a few salves would be enough-”

“For your hands,” the gypsy moved one of the jars her way, and smirked at how the girl’s lips curled. “Bothering you again, I see.”

“What else?”

Another bottle. “For your sister’s sunlight of hair. The braid is turning heads already but-”

“Oh, please don’t.” Landing herself on the bench, the girl turned the bottle in her hands. “If I hear another wailing off-tune love song under my window, I’m going to start pouring molten iron over them. And that would be a waste of damn good iron.” The bottom of the bottle placed back on the shawl. “Maybe you can give her something that will stop her from falling for every boy she meets.”

Pluma just laughed, setting herbs on the table. “Impossible. That girl’s heart is a spring song, and we need a bit of spring, now that the storm is here.”

Mar’yanna rubbed the crease of her forehead. “It gets worse every year.”

“Or: you can get married, so she could have her turn. The older sister, then the younger, as it is a custom.”

If looks could create flame, Pluma’s house would have been on fire already.

“No.”

“Just a suggestion, sister.” Older fingers caressed the webbing of burns on the younger ones. “Don’t worry, price will be paid. The crows will have his lying tongue in due time.”

Hand pulled away, the girl bared her teeth. “Can we wrap this up? The storm is coming. I have to get the house ready.”

Yet, still, her eyes blinked once too often. Poor child.

“Here,” the gypsy placed the pouch last. “I think you’ll find this more than enough.”

The girl tugged the binding with suspicion, one, another, and pushed the finger inside, sharp eyes looking down the length of delicate pointy nose - and then clavicles sharpened surprise, lashes flying.

“Is this-?”

“Yes,” Pluma nodded, setting herself on the edge of the table.

The pouch opened even wider, and the girl hooked her finger, raising her arm, and a thread of beads, round and even, every single one - a perfect star ripped from the sky. They gleamed in her hands, and something so innocently joyous flashed over the girl’s face, before being replaced with indignation.

“Pluma, this is a fortune!”

“So is that coat.”

“This is an arm-length of pearl, Pluma! We can’t take this, it’s worth five of my swords!”

“Or one really good one if you put your mind to it. Or a wedding dress of Prval lace, which would take your sister three months to make? As I said, your father was blessed with trully gifted daughters.” She looked down one of the mugs left on the floor. “But those will be worthless in comparison if you ever decide to wear what you keep hidden even from your sister-”

The table erupted, mugs turning. The blacksmith rose, and it was as if the lighted of stove fire itself dimmed before her.

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH.”

“You are burying you gifts, featherling.”

“Shut. Your. Mouth.” She leaned forward, and shadows ran over her face, where eyes burned with molten gold. “If you speak of this to anyone, I will cut your tongue out with your own herb knife.”

Oh, what does she know. What does she know, bird unhatched. Angry little thing.

“Don’t threaten me, sister.” Pluma curled. Her claws, barely growing, pulled back. “Yours is not the only secret I keep. And that knife actually needs a sharpening.”

The Blacksmith breathed, letting out discontented huffs, then, finally groaning, she picked up her sack, starting to toss her payment into it. “Fine. Bring it when the winds let down.”

“Or you could come by again. I do enjoy our talks.”

“Unlike you, some of us have work, a lot of work to do.”

“So do I! You think those salves make themselves? Honestly, by now they pretty much do, but even I am not that good.”

“Pride is a sin, Pl’uma.”

“Now, don’t go offending me with just one, dear. I’m sure I can find myself a couple more. Lust, for example.”

Mar’yanna chuckled. “Oh yes, Tan’ya still tells everyone about that miracle cure you gave her husband for his… problem.”

“Problem? Please. Having five daughters - now that’s a problem.” The wind wailed with new force, and the wagon shook again. Pluma raised her head to the ceiling and the swinging herbs. “I hate to throw you out, but it is high time for you to go. Can’t risk this town losing its one good shear sharpener.”

The blacksmith nodded, stomping to the door, and the gypsy followed. The outside greeted them with thick chunks of snow falling, slamming against the patched ground, and clamping in piles.

“Looks like you were right,” Mar’yanna jumped to the ground and tucked herself tighter. Her face barely rose from the thickness of her coat’s collar, but it still frowned up in concern. “You’ll be fine, right?”

“It’s just a storm, little bird,” Pluma caught a piece of falling snow on the palm of her ringed hand, and squeezed it tight, melting water between her fingers. “I’ve lived through worse.”

Non-believer, the girl eyed the melting water dripping. “Take care then.”

She set off down the trail, away from the cliff the gypsy chose at her home, slowing down for one last mirthful goodbye thrown over her shoulder. “I’d hate to lose one good herb-gatherer this town has.”

Pluma the Gypsy watched her as she disappeared behind the turn, a mass of dirty brown fur with a sack over her shoulder, and sighed to herself and the sky.

“You are late,” she said, reproachingly.

The wind howled in response and threw snow in her face.

“Oh, cut it.” She turned to hide in her home. With her last step, Pluma turned, shaking her finger at the heavy dark cloud. “And don’t you dare blow me off this mountain.”

The sky didn’t reply, but she still would swear its color grew softer.

And then, just as she was about to close the door behind her back, the wind suddenly stilled, and all grew silent, so that the air itself froze around her. The fire stopped crackling, and the branches seized their urgent waving, and in that silence, like an arrow shot, like a fall of melting drops in the birth of spring on the clear steal of a sword -

- ran a bell.

And Pluma, for the first time in years, froze, breathing shakily, her unbearably wide painted eyes pulled towards the white curtain of the horizon.

Oh, she spoke in a tongue that was only hers in this land of mountains and snow, her jaw clenching, claws stabbing hard into the wood of her doorframe. Really?

The wind, the snow, the rustling forest and the panicked creaking of her home came back, yet she stood, trying it hear it again.

It didn’t return. It didn’t have to.

Feathers at the back of her neck bristling, Pluma pulled herself into the darkness of her home. When the only thing left was the shining bright of her eyes, the door of the wagon slammed shut.

Come then, the feather-thief’s son. I’m waiting.

#strange magic #forge-sister and a silver heart #i wrote this shit #suzie be proud i'm learning description from the best and failing miserably #the story about metric ton of snow and solving all your problems with manual labour and drinking #unless you are Plum #then you are just salty af

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qwertyprophecy · 7 years

Text

Niffler Crochet Tutorial

Of sorts. Disclaimer: As a newbie crocheter, I hardly know what I’m talking about – most crocheting terms are a mystery to me, and I didn’t count my rows or anything – but if you want a vague step-by-step guide for making this Niffler, keep reading.

BASICS

Yarn: Should be woolly and chunky. I used 6mm “Essentials Alpaca Blend Chunky” by Rico Design (50% acrylic, 30% wool, 20% alpaca - very soft!), black and light brown. They had a nice pinkish one too but I decided to dye the nose instead to get that gradient. (I also used a second black yarn for the fur but more on that later.)

Hook: 4.5mm for the main body, 3.5 for the paws. You might want to go for a smaller hook or thicker yarn to avoid holes, honestly. The 4.5 is a bit too big but it was the only one I used to own.

Whole thing is in single stitch unless otherwise noted.

DIAGRAM

First, to keep track of the sizes of the various parts, I drew side and top views of the Niffler. (Please ignore the weird lines and numbers – just a failed attempt to keep track of rows.)

Then it’s possible to keep crocheting without worrying about stitch count. Just check every now and then that you’re on the right track in terms of width.

You can use my diagram, or improve upon it. For reference, I was mostly looking at this pic since that’s the pose I wanted:

BODY

1. Start at the tip of the tail with a magic loop, as few stitches as possible. Increase on every row according to the diagram.

2. To make the tail curl, keep increasing on the bottom side of the tail, but decrease on the top.

3. Then keep increasing on every row to match your diagram. Mostly evenly, but to create a full tummy, increase more rapidly on the top part. And so on.

NOTE ON STUFFING:

You’ll want to start stuffing your Niffler with filling early on, before the opening gets too small. Of course, the Niffler being black, regular white stuffing will shine through the holes. Use black stuffing, or line the insides with black cloth (ideally something soft like velvet) before adding white stuffing.

4. When you reach this point (red line):

Instead of completing your row, turn around on the second-to-last stitch and crochet backwards. When reaching the last stitch of the old row, turn around again. Keep turning around to fill those missing rows (blue lines on diagram). Once you’ve ran out of stitches, do a row of normal stitches on top of the weird hole-y row you’ve made. (Now, I’m sure there’s a proper name for this technique, I sort of co-opted it from a sock heel tutorial. My crocheting knowledge is a bit rubbish)

Also remember to keep following the curve of the back by decreasing a stitch every now and then.

5. Do another round of that technique to get your rows lined up correctly.

6. Once you get to the top of the head, stuff the rest of the Niffler, decrease rapidly and tie it all off.

FACE

Now, I pretty much winged this part, but the general idea is this:

Take a look at a reference picture and figure out where on the finished body base your Niffler’s face should be. Still using black yarn, crochet an outline of the face. To get a base for some nice puffy cheeks, do couple rounds under the cheeks (black lines on diagram), decreasing appropriately. (I slipknotted under the snout; I suppose you could also cut the yarn.)

Switch to brown yarn and do two flat circles as the areas around the eyes, and an outline for the snout (beige lines on diagram). Put in a bit of stuffing and keep going with the snout.

To help the snout keep its shape, I cut up a small piece of foam and put that inside instead of stuffing.

Once the snout is at correct lenght, you should have maybe 8 stitches remaining. Press them against each other (4 against 4) and tie them off.

Finally, sew on buttons for eyes.

LEGS AND ARMS

Made as separate pieces, stitched into the body afterwards.

1. Start with the sole of the foot. This is how it should look like. Each toe is a 3 stitch long chain tied off at the end.

2. On the side, it looks like this. It’s not very visible, but the brown foot continues underneath the black leg – it’s like a pocket, shut off at the end (where it says “attach”). This is to give the foot some three-dimensionality, when the rows next to the toes are flat.

3. Switch to black yarn and crochet a circle around the ankle of the foot piece.

4. The calf is a simple widening tube – as always, just roughly follow the diagram, increasing appropriately. Keep checking the leg against the body to achieve correct proportions.

5. To turn at the knee, use the technique explained in step 4 of the body.

6. Once you’ve done the wide bit of the thigh, decrease quickly and tie it off. Use the remaining yarn to stitch the leg into the body of your Niffler.

Same thing with the arms, except the hand looks like this:

Instead of the pocket thing, just crochet a whole round, and close the hole by stitching it onto the palm. Then switch to black yarn and make the arm.

POUCH

Make a flat pocket the size of your Niffler’s tummy. Attach to Niffler. Ta-dah.

FUR

Now comes the ridiculously time-consuming part.

1. Cut up a ~5cm piece of yarn.

2. Loop it through a stitch on your Niffler and fasten it off. If you do it from the correct side, the yarn strands should follow the natural direction of the fur.

3. Repeat 1-2 ad nauseam until the Niffler looks ready for a punk concert.

NOTE: I only added fur to the head and tail, as it quickly turned out covering the whole creature would take forever. Those are the important bits though.

NOTE ON YARN: I had another type of yarn I experimented with for the fur. I lost the label but it’s the the kind with stuff sticking from it:

I put about 4 strands of this per stitch, here and there. It had a rather nice fuzzy sheen, and I thought using two types of yarn gives the end result a bit of a scruffy, natural look; but honestly, it’s probably not worth buying a whole new ball of yarn.

4. Take a comb and run it through the mess of yarn so that the individual strands separate. This’ll work best with a loose sort of yarn.

5. Now for the fun part: giving the Niffler a haircut. With small scissors and a reference picture on hand, cut the fur down to appropriate lenght.

NOTE: It might be easier to work on a small bit at a time, instead of adding all the fur at once before cutting it down.

6. Here’s a trick to make the knitted part match together better with the furry part: Take your comb and rub it against the un-furred surfaces. If you’re working with woollen yarn, it should start breaking down, making it slightly fuzzy. This covers up the stitch texture a little so it looks a bit more like fur (at least in my opinion).

DYING THE SNOUT

To give the snout its pinkish hue, I diluted red and magenta watercolours, dabbed it on and let it try. You could probably use proper dye for better permanence, but as long as the Niffler doesn’t go swimming, watercolour’s fine.

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And there you have it: your very own Niffler. Ready for cuddles, bank heists, and biting Dolores Umbridge on the nose.

IMPROVEMENTS

When I make more Nifflers with this pattern, I’ll definitely change some things. Here’s a couple of suggestions:

1. The tail a bit too big on the original diagram. The whole bit could be moved closer towards the body.

2. The eyes are are a tad too low. Be careful when positioning the face outline.

3. Don’t cut the fur too short. The knot will not hold and then you’ll have Niffler shedding all over your bed.

4. The fingers and toes curl a lot. Looks cute, but only when it’s curling in the right direction. Otherwise there’s this whole Gnarlack vibe going which is... less nice. I’m not really sure how to fix this, but there must be a way.

Happy crocheting!

P.S. If you do make a Niffler, please link me some photos! I want to see an army of nifflers. a world covered in nifflers. that is my dream

Oh yeah and tagging to make sure the people asking for a pattern see this: @shelbylynnmarie @butterfleeee @servicedoodle @lawonsie @secretlyaravenclaw-blog @alycexthraina @bluecat158 @potterwhovian98 @knittingknerdy @beanie117 @mskastiel

#crochet #tutorial #niffler #diy #fantastic beasts and where to find them

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