Context: Stuffed animals were my best friends in childhood, and I have around 50. Right now there's a stuffed minotaur on my printer.
Her mother has a wagon with a little gang of stuffies in it, and she gives them different outfits for each holiday. For Easter (or Ostaran) she knitted them hats and matching purses.
I imagine this gang goes out and gets into trouble each holiday, the designated stuffy driver pulling a wagon full of wasted animals home at 4 AM, someone holding the dolls curls back as she pukes.
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