#theyarenotknittingneedles

[caramellapfeldansen-blog]

@sleepynecessities @theyarenotknittingneedles @tockblock

heya weirdos~ been a long time since i tumblrd so sorry if im rusty whats up with you three

[beefbuff-blog]

theyarenotknittingneedles started following you

yOU LOOK LIKE A FRIEND, i’M CHAMP, hI,

[atailoralwaysknows-blog]

@theyarenotknittingneedles

[Text:] Is this damnef thing even eorking.

[Text:] I hate these tiny keyboards.

[wrigglyglitches-blog]

@theyarenotknittingneedles

[pvt] 

I hhavve a queeessstionn ffor you, ifff yyyou do nnot minnnd unndully.

[hedonistichearts-blog]

✿ (Why not. What could go wrong.)

8. Forehead kiss

<>

[hedonistichearts-blog]

🎊 ((Since you gestured to it~))

<>

“Happy New years gorgeous”

[amnesiac-aquarius]

A giftbag, anonymous gray. Within, there was QUITE A FEW blankets, a recipe for how to make grape tarts, and a certificate. A so-called degree in Human Culture. Wonder who this could be from?

The recipe and certificate were set aside, to be framed at a later date. He had neither the drive nor motivation to hang them up that evening. Even if the degree was rather humorous. However, he wasted no time in putting the blankets to use. He made a pile on his couch and settled into it, just barely visible among the quilts as he watched the television. 

[wrathfulhuntsman-blog]

Two little boxes appear, both of which clearly from his little ram friends. "May fOr hers here, sO I thOught I'd deliver. Merry Twelfth Perigee, Cara Mia. I lOve yOu." Inside one, there's a deep violet sweater, and a wooden pendant on a necklace, inscribed with protection runes. From May, a replica of that first ship they met in inside a bottle, and a card- clearly handmade. Merry Twelfth Perigee indeed.

Dualscar inspected the sweater for a moment before donning it, along with the necklace. He wasted no time in putting the delicate ship--and the card, too--somewhere safe. Away from anything that could crush them if a rogue wave struck and sent everything in his cabin toppling over.Then, once his cape was draped over his shoulders, he barged out of his cabin. One of the mercenaries assigned to his ship--Menriv, if he recalled her name correctly--happened to pass by at the same moment. She stopped in her tracks, arching a brow at his appearance.“What?” Dualscar said, putting a hand on his hip. “Have you never seen a sweater before?”“Seen plenty,” Menriv said. “Just haven’t seen a man wearin’ a cape over-top of one.” She gave him a thumbs up. “Lookin’ good, though, boss.” Dualscar swore he heard her stifle a chortle as she hurried off. But perhaps he was imagining things.