#easter cw

Maybe some sort of special event happened where different holiday toons got to meet…? Or maybe i just watched a lot of the Easter episodes… Hrm…….

-Gourdy, Dandy's World, #sunstruck

“... Easter is my mom’s favorite holiday...” Noelle’s got a basket full of hand-painted eggs, smelling of freshly made sweets, offering them eagerly to any who’d like one; free of having to go on a hunt for them.

[[ To @sclfmastery ,because it’s all I could think about for two days. Enjoy! ]]

            The Doctor looks, for all intents and purposes, as though she's gone completely barmy.

            Arms rising and falling at random intervals that have no correlation what-so-ever with the way her feet are moving, shuffling about from left to right, tapping a covered-toe here and a covered-heel there. Hips jut this way and that, in opposite shifts as those of her legs, leaving her to look like she might be having some sort of fit instead of dancing. Well, if one could call this dancing which... would be generous, at best. But she doesn't care, and she carries on with the not-quite-dancing.

            In fact, the flailing-renamed-dancing could almost be forgivable if she weren't wearing a fuzzy white set of footie pajamas complete with a ball-fluff of a cotton tail and a hood, pulled up mind you, complete with two button eyes, a rounded snoot, pink nose, whiskers, and long, floppy, white rabbit ears. The feet of aforementioned pajamas are large rabbit feet, decorated on the bottoms with pink, non-slip 'squishbeans' as she likes to call them. She knows the proper term but again, she does not care. She’s found the pajamas in the wardrobe while hunting down a very specific scarf and hasn’t taken them off all ‘morning’ [several hours].

            Likewise she doesn't care about the fact that she's singing at the 'top of her lungs', a phrase that's always bemused her in every regeneration as lungs didn't have tops and it seemed no one could be arsed to sort out why anyone would think they did. The song she’s singing is from Earth, circa 2010, and it’s playing at a volume that would likely harm the ears of anyone human.

            She is belting it properly, she is, and she doesn’t sound half bad. She'd sound even better if she were actually trying, as this regeneration [alongside a handful of her past selves, especially the bloke with the bowtie and the one with the suspicious nose and intrusive ears] is fairly good at carrying a tune. Another phrase that made her giggle as tunes couldn't be carried and notes couldn't be held. Her face is smudged here and there, as are her pajamas, with a plethora of different, and vibrant, colors.

            In one hand she holds a painting palette with a myriad of hues and tones, and in the other hand she holds a brush dipped in grass green. There is a large cup of warm water sitting precariously on the edge of the small side table, painting rags piled up behind it, and in front of her stands a large wooden easel. The easel, alongside every painting tube in the known Universe [or so it appears, the way tubes are sticking out as though the easel drawer is about to burst open with them], carries a large canvas around 91.44 by 121.92 centimeters in size that is already mostly filled with her newest homage to her beloved.

            It is the Master, her Koschei, as he is now with his salt-and-pepper hair, with his dark eyes, with that little smirk he wears when he's humoring her and wants her to think he hates it but really he's enjoying it because she's happy- and he's holding a giant, brightly colored Easter Egg inside of a large wicker basket while wearing a set of those long, white rabbit ears attached to a headband.

I hope everyone here is doing alright. I sincerely hope you're happy; regardless of who you are, what you might have done, might not have done. I hope your good experiences outweigh any negative ones. Beautiful sunsets, and cold drinks, and sweet food. Small, infinite comforts. They're there to be yours. They're for you. The world loves you, and I love you, and I know how crushingly terrible things can be. I promise you, I understand. But I hope you understand that it isn't the nature of the world for it to stay that way. Improvement is inevitable. One day you will wake up, and you will be happier than now. I promise you, with all I am, that it'll happen. Please, please believe me.

I love you. I have always loved you; I will always love you.

Yours always, Jesus.

Introject. #sharkfeed.

If it's alright, Mod Party Cat, I might make my own tag. I'm sorry if it's somewhere in the Mod Pages and we've missed it, but; are you able to add two custom tags to submissions? Of course, it's alright if not; just curious, is all. Thank you.

(plaintext vers: Yes I'm celebrating 'Homestuck Day,' but not in an excited way. More like how your Aunt Carol celebrates Easter despite not going to church in a decade and just thinks it's nice to have the family together. That is, until Uncle Ron makes an uncomfortable joke and her deviled eggs thoroughly ruined… In retrospect this is a very midwestern joke and says a lot about where i've been growing up the past few years of my life. Oh well. Sincerely, an Eridan fictive)