"In which the mighty, fearsome demon from Hell partakes in sewing"
It had always fascinated Sock, the way that a thin, fragile thread could bind together materials with such strength, and the way that formless swathes of fabric could be transformed into practically anything he could think up, the way that the small silver needle accurately guided the delicate string in a steady rhythm. Wether sewing eccentric additions to his wardrobe, plushes, or perhaps preserving his latest “catch”—usually squirrels or small birds—these little things were both soothing and exciting at the same time. And, of course, the end products were always great sources of pride for Sock.
Out of all of his projects, it was the plushes that held a special place in his heart. From the first floppy, patched up bunny his mother had helped him create, those button eyes and brightly patterned pelts had intrigued him.
As a demon, he’d never expected to be able to pick up his old hobby. The discovery stemmed from his toying with some needles carelessly left behind by a relative of Jonathan’s after a visit. With a bit of practice and unbreakable concentration, Sock figured out how to feed the thread through the slim eye of one of the needles, much to his delight. Further endeavors eventually resulted in a small, simple human-shaped plush made of a long-neglected white bedsheet. In spite of himself, he drew a pair of moody eyes and a goofy pout on its face with a sharpie, as a crude effigy of a certain teenager.
Next, he found himself fashioning the familiar form of a floppy grey hoodie, then those clunky headphones, and then a small mop of blonde hair formed from some yellow yarn he had salvaged.
With a small smirk, he looked at his new creation with a satisfied gaze.
I dub thee Hotstuff jr., Sock thought to himself, chuckling aloud at his inside joke. He absentmindedly fidgeted with the seams, thinking about making that simple little rabbit years ago. He wondered if, wherever it was now, its seams held tight still…
Not too long later, his reverie was broken by a familiar, vaguely apathetic voice.
"Hey," Jonathan said, "What are you getting into down here? Geez, I almost got done with my homework, with all that quiet…"
He trailed off as he noticed something small and white in Sock’s clutch.
"What’s—-", He began, but was cut off by the still surprised demon.
"Nothing! At all!", Sock burst out, with an embarrassed flush slowly creeping over his features.
Upon closer inspection, much to Jonathan’s amusement, it resembled him.
Jonathan chuckled. “Do I really look that pissed all the time?”, He laughed, “Really though, that’s actually a pretty good doll. You made that, huh?”
"Than—er, it’s not just a doll,” Sock fumbled as he thought of a viable excuse, “It’s, uh, a voodoo doll! Yeah! Pretty, um, evil and ominous, right?”
Jonathan rolled his eyes endearingly. It sure didn’t look voodoo-ey, but he decided to leave it at that.
Later, his suspicions were confirmed as he found the ferocious, merciless hell spawn napping peacefully on the couch, cradling his creation and snoring lightly.