omg it's here.
I got out the kitchen scissors, sliced open the box, and started laughing my ass off. I think some of the pictures came out a bit blurry because I was laughing so hard my hands wouldn't keep steady. I'm still laughing, actually.
"Oh--oh my God. This is--oh my God. That is amazing. Look at you. Just--you are just precious."


(Yes, Edward is creepy even in box format. In the second picture, the text at the bottom is, "I dream about being with you forever." You can't see that there's text at all in the third picture, but down at the bottom it says, "Things will never be the same." Tell me about it.)
"Look, we'll deal with your self-esteem issues later. Right now, you've got some people to meet."

"I'm... really pretty sure they can take care of themselves."
So I took him upstairs and he jaaaames deaaaaaned into the room ever so sulkily and I was hoping to catch Galadriel's eye and get her to Glide Forward, as she does, and give him a proper introduction, but unfortunately, the girls already knew something was up ("She's laughing!" "Why is she laughing so hard!"). Galadriel wasn't so much gliding by the time we got there as--what's an elfy word for "sprint"?


I coughed and flicked his shoulder--Galadriel happens to be 8,440 years old, and I had a feeling that being lectured by a mere centenarian before he even said hello would not get them started off on the right foot.















"Dude, you're not helping," I muttered.

"This is your curse, that you're totally full of yourself?"

Oh... snap.
More than anything, I was worried about how Anna would take it, because if anyone would be immune to his dazzle, it would be her. You may not remember this, but she was actually pretty open to the idea of Edward Sparklepants Cullen back in the day. But as more and more pictures of various prototypes came out... well, she's anti-Dollen now, let's put it that way.








"What's she thinking right now?" I asked him out of the corner of my mouth.






"Thanks for the opti--"

Well... I'd better start hiding all the sharp objects, then.
(More from the Secret Life of Dolls.)


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