#The tenses in this...are wild. Sue me. It's 5 am

[guqin-and-flute]

In Your Hands [Peony to Lotus!Verse]

[@theleakypen​ *points accusingly* Look what you did! 😁]

[Second Chronological installment of the Peony to Lotus!Verse]

[First Installment] [Ao3 Series]

It starts small and slow, because Yanli asked and because A-Yao listens. It’s more delightful than she could have imagined, to shyly mention something and see it tucked away behind a smile. To have it come back later and set before her in reality. 

She isn’t truly used to receiving a great many gifts--A-Cheng and Xianxian are men of action, showing love in hugs and favors and tucking her into bed when she is too tired or sick to do so herself. (Now she has 3 people who would do this. Sweet boys. How lucky is she?) 

Usually, it’s her that brings the food they like, makes sure to tuck little notes into the folds of their clothes when they pack for a trip, brings back little knick knacks from the market that might make them smile. So, when she wakes alone in the crisp air of their bedroom and goes to do her hair for the day, she is startled to find a silver hair pin topped with a delicate metal lotus with tiny pink beads tucked in the petals that mirror the ones interspersed throughout the 2 trailing chains that dangle beneath it. There is no note, but it had been placed very obviously and precisely in the middle of her table. Yanli finds herself smiling as she picks it up and admires it, noting the fine, swirling engravings that etch down the stick itself. It’s a gift! For her! 

She, of course, slides it into her wound hair and finds herself holding her cheeks as she grins at herself in the mirror and  turns this way and that, watching the little chains sway with her movement, clicking gently. The flush on her face matches the beads. It’s a little silly, she tells herself, to be blushing over a gift like this. He’s my husband! I’m already married! 

There is still that giddy lightness in her chest that feels as though she will burst out laughing at any moment, like the morning sun has roosted in her heart.

Because it’s more than just the gift, of course. She and A-Yao had been chatting over tea one evening on the pavilion over the lake, listening to the night frogs and the fresh wind through the curtains and distant treetops. It had been very soon after their realization (their breakthrough, she privately considers it, the silly man, of course she cares for him, of course) and he had been watching her with warm eyes. “Jiang-furen,” he had said lightly, because it made her wrinkle her nose at the formality--and she had, and he had smiled. “Would you allow this one to court you?”

Oh. 

‘I think I would like to try,’ she had told him, and with such confidence, too. Loving. And here they were, at the trying part. Complication had swelled within her chest like a tide, wanting and fear and a sudden shyness. The thrill of flattery and being wanted; the fear of ruining this, too, somehow, by too demanding. Unworthy.

The fear that she would not be able to...feel the right way. She had never been in love, not even the giggling, girlish love her friends had spoken of as children, nor had she ever understood the longing whispers of her shimeis and shijies when they saw the young men unloading the boats, sweaty and gleaming in the sun. She had been confused when her mother had lectured her on the importance and the virtue of staying out of the beds of men. It had just never seemed as difficult as anyone made it out to be. She had been prepared for the duties of a wife and a mother when she had agreed to marriage--both times--and had not meant to shy from it. It was the way things were. And she did want a child--several of them, actually. 

And then had come A-Yao with his gentle understanding and his poor wounded heart and his telling her that she had no obligations and him, no expectations. And that secret part of her that had bound herself up tight in the waiting had breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed.

Now, within the bounds of marriage, she was being asked. Is it what she wanted, of them, with him. It was real and present with no barriers, time or otherwise. And she didn’t know. Because he was sweet and kind and she did not want any part of him hurt.

It had almost been easier when there had been a straight path she had been bound to walk with no option of deviating. Inevitable. 

Oh, and she had been silent for too long, leaving him waiting and wondering. She had felt him go completely still across the table. Hurriedly, she moved her hand over to cover his, to quell any rising anger or misunderstanding, had opened her mouth to try to stumble through an explanation--

And his hand had covered hers. And he had waited. And she had loved him for it. His face was stiffer than she might like, his pleasant smile up, now, like armor against whatever he thought was going through her mind, but he allowed the time it took for her to gather this all up. “A-Yao…” she had begun and her throat had closed up and she had chastised herself for being a silly, stupid girl and making him wait, making him fear that she was saying no, because she wasn’t, she did want to try, for him, for her, because she could feel the first step in her heart of loving him in a way that was unlike A-Cheng and A-Xian, unlike her mother and father, but she couldn’t say exactly where or how far those steps would take her and she would never want to break a promise or get his hopes up and be unable to--unable to--

“A-Li,” he had said, polite shield of a smile disappearing, brow tucking into worry as her eyes filled with frustrated tears. “Have you...changed your mind?”

She shook her head quickly, mouth working and oh, why couldn’t she ever just speak? 

“Are...you sure? You don’t....”

Yanli nodded, just as vigorously and she sniffed, trying to stem whatever this was. “I’m...Of course….Yes, of course, you can, I’ll....”

Hurriedly, he had risen to kneel beside her, below her, both his hands on hers, now, where they rested on her knees, face open and almost scared. “A-Li,” his tone had been urgent. “What do you think I’m asking you?”

Finally, finally, she had choked her way through an explanation, an apology, a promise to try to do better, to try to fix whatever incomplete love she was offering and his fingers had tightened over her own. 

His voice had been rough. “I would never ask something of you that you’re not ready to give.”

“But...what if...I’m never ready?” she had managed in a watery whisper.

His answer had been as gentle as the breeze that brushed by them from across the lake, flickering the flames in the lanterns. “Then I will never ask.”

“Wouldn’t that be horribly selfish of me?” Her eyes had remained fastened on the rise and fall of his chest in his purple robes, unable to meet his gaze. She could hear her mother in her head, knew what she would say; yes. Selfish and childish and unrealistic. If Yanli could not cultivate, if she could not be strong or clever or useful, what on earth did she expect to be her duty to her family? Did she think she was special? Did she think that marriage was just easy for everyone? 

“Why would it be selfish?” 

When she gave a small, despairing laugh at what she assumed had been a joke, he had simply blinked at her. She had wiped her eyes. “Children, for one, A-Yao.”

Something distant had come over his eyes, the look he got when he was puzzling through a problem for A-Cheng on the spot and his tone was one of musing when he said,“If you wanted a child, I could get you a child.”

That laugh had burst from her in shock and some of the tightness in her chest lightened. “You’re as ridiculous as A-Xian. Is YaoYao 3, as well, with that sort of reasoning? Where do you think children come from? A roadside store?” Shaking her head, she had bopped the tip of his nose with the crook of her finger and tucked his already neat hair behind his shoulder, soothing herself, giving an excuse to be close to him.

He had smiled, slow and sleek, head tilting a little, saying, “Of course,” and nothing more. When he had simply waited patiently for her to stop fussing over his hair, she had taken his dear face in her hands and ran her thumbs over his cheeks.

“We’re here again,” she had noted and knew by the way his smile dimmed, slightly, and the softness that came back into his eyes that he, too, was thinking of their wedding night when they sat in this very same position; him at her feet, promising to take no more than what was offered; her holding him in fondness. She sighed and tilted her head in hopeless asking. “And what about a wife’s duty to her husband? The other part you’re promised.”

“Neither of our vows said any such thing. All I was promised was loyalty and support.” His voice had quieted further, and a tentative had hand lifted, and rested on her cheek, light as a moth’s wing. “Which you have given. I want to court A-Li because…” To her delight, his cheeks had pinkened slightly, and he looked young and sweet and oh, yes, she loved him as A-Yao--whatever that meant to her, she did. “Because I want to. I-I want to do it the right way, to please you, and bring you gifts and gain your favor. Because you deserve it.”

She had felt a warm curling in her throat, like tears, but not (loved! loved!) and she had smiled and hadn’t been able to help from leaning down and kissing his forehead, kissing the tip of his nose. Then, daringly, because she wanted to, she had brushed her lips over his and he had sat, hands carefully in his lap, still as a stone as she pressed them, warm and soft against hers. He smelled like the fragrant flower tea they had been drinking. “You already have my favor, ” she had murmured when she sat back from the chaste kiss, feeling her own face heat up as his had. Oh, as his was!

“If it…” he had started, almost staccato and slightly too loud, as if he had surprised himself and he pressed his lips together and made a face like he regretted it. But then he pushed out, almost in a rush. “If it makes you feel any better, I also wasn’t...looking forward to...that night. I...would have slept with you. If it was what you had required.” He took a breath and pressed his hands, chill in the night air, over the backs of hers on his face. “But, now, we can go as slowly or as far as only you desire. It is in your hands. I’m simply happy to have A-Li.”

Her heart felt as if it were the tail of some magnificent fish, fluttering and flashing around with a gleaming joy. She believed him. Knowing what she knew of his mother, of his father, and of how that rested in him like chains and blood and hurting, she believed every word. Safe. Safe to test, to try. To stop.

He was safety.

“One condition,” she had said, schooling her face to seriousness and warning so quickly, he must have known it was a jest. 

He, in turn, however, didn’t make light, and only smiled, dimpled and almost completely real. “Name it.”

“I can court you in turn.” 

At this, his face had dropped into blank startlement for a brief moment before a crooked little smile had hitched itself back on his face. That was real. She had been able to tell. “Of course,” he had agreed steadily. “Anything at all.”

And now, as she leaves their room with his first gift in her hair, she sees him down the walkway, slim and purposeful in his angling, talking to A-Xian about something. All at once, something mischievous and powerful skitters up from her stomach and down her arms like laughter and she straightens and glides like she was taught, a grin on her lips. A-Xian looks up first and grins back. Excitedly, he bounds up for her to stroke his cheek, which she does, still walking, still passing, and as she draws level, she gives a preening toss of her head, making the little beads of the pin click and flicks her eyes over.

A-Yao is watching her performance with eyebrows raised, eyes wide in surprised appreciation, fresh delight pressed behind his lips, making his whole face light. Like they are sharing a private joke. Like he thinks she’s beautiful and funny. His regard feels like lovely fingers combing through her hair and, beneath this silly posturing, she’s blushing all over again. “Husband,” she greets with exaggerated propriety, inclining her head. The chains sway in her peripheral vision.

He inclines his head back, smile wide and gracious. “Wife.”

She doesn’t break her stride, continuing her glide down the walkway, not looking back. She hears A-Xian say, “What the heck was that about?”

She is in earshot long enough to hear A-Yao laugh, quietly.

[princehrry-writings]

Legal Guardian

ugh this took way too long lol, but here it is!!! i forget exactly that sparked this but i thought it was a cute idea.

warnings: injuries (nothing major), hospitals, cursing, harry being a protective dad 🥺, talks about adoption and legal guardians, crying

wordcount: 2481

harry styles x reader, stepdad!harry x reader, stepdadharry x oc!stella

masterlist

Stella gets hurt and Harry is the only one there- but he has no legal jurisdiction…

.

.

.

It all happened really fast. Harry can’t even recall how it started, but he knew very well how it ended. A sobbing Stella strapped into her car seat as he raced to the emergency room, frantically calling Y/n who was in a different state on a work trip.

The 5 year old didn’t understand what was going on, she just knew she was hurting… really bad. And that she wanted her mommy and daddy.

The traffic seemed to be working against him, getting in his way at the most inconvenient times, all the while he was trying to console his weeping daughter, crying out “Daddy it hurts so bad!” effectively shattering his heart into a million little pieces.

Stella had been playing happily in the backyard at home, showing off her wonderful dance moves to Harry who watched with an adoring smile on his face, taking little videos to send to his fiance, when suddenly she was laying on the ground, clutching her ankle, and crying for him to come get her. He rushed into action, not having seen her take the fateful step into what must have been a hole in the ground or something.

Screeching into the hospital car park, he stops somewhere he obviously wasn’t supposed to but he couldn't care less. His mind was racing. What if she broke her ankle? Or tore a ligament? What if she has to get surgery? All of this is what he worries about as he flings the back door of his car open, trying his best to appear calm for his daughter (but it’s not really working), and scoops her carefully into his hold, bringing her inside and shouting for someone to please help him.

A few nurses rush to his side, asking him different questions and asking for someone to “Page Dr. Robbins, tell her we need a peds consult.”

Stella is whisked away from him and before he can start to follow after her, a hand is placed on his chest, stopping him in his place.

“Sir, we can’t have you in the room with her. You’re not on her file as a legal guardian!” A doctor tells him. In that moment, he sees nothing but red, steam pouring out of his ears.

“The hell I can’t, I’m her father! I’m not going to let her sit in there all alone while strangers poke and prod at her!” He all but yells at the man. Harry is not violent. He really isn't. But he’s not afraid to lay somebody on their ass when it comes to his girls. With kindness or course. And maybe a black eye.

From the room she was taken into he can hear her crying for him.

“Wan’ my daddy! Daddy!” Harry didn’t think his heart could break any further than it already had but he was proven wrong by the ache in his chest that only grew stronger the longer he was kept away from his lovebug.

“Doctor, respectfully- if you don’t move the hell out of my way, I will move you myself. That is my daughter, and my fiance is in a different state right now on a business trip so I am the only parent she has right now. If you try to keep me from my child I will take legal action against the hospital and sue for everything you’re worth. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Harry is seething, trying to move past the man in the white lab coat and light blue scrubs. Again, he is stopped.

“I will call security, sir!”

“DADDY!” Stella is now screeching, her little voice hoarse from all the yelling and crying.

“Don’t you fucking hear that? She needs me, and you’re telling me I can’t go be with her! What the hell kind of doctor are you?” Harry is in the man's face, pointing at him vehemently. He doesn’t care that people are starting to watch the scene. Doesn’t care that some people have recognized him and are recording the ordeal. Let the people see him fighting for his family. He doesn’t give a rat's ass if his “image” takes a hit. His daughter is on the line and he won’t back down.

“She’ll be fine-”

“No she won’t! Go ahead and call security. My daughter needs me and you’re not going to stop me from being in that room with her.” With that he pushes past the doctor (who must be an intern or something with how he’s handling this situation) and rushes into the room where his baby is screaming for him. He’s at her side in a matter of seconds, wiping the tears from her face, peppering kisses onto her head, petting her wild hair back from her face, just consoling her in any way that he can.

How fucking dare they try to keep him from her, especially when she’s in a state like this.

“It’s ok baby girl, daddy’s here now. I’ve got you. You’re ok, you’re ok!” He mumbles into her hair, doing his best to stay out of the way of the people examining her but still close enough so she knows he’s right there with her.

Little tears still streamed down her face but she was much calmer now, her breathing more even and body less tense.

“Mr. Styles we’re bringing in the portable x-ray to take a look at her ankle, so you’re going to need to wear this.” He nods and takes the vest given to him, putting it over his shoulders like he sees the others do. A similar article is placed over Stella, who is clinging to Harry’s hand, fearing that she’s going to have to be without him again. But he promises he isn’t going anywhere.

As they’re taking the x-ray his phone starts ringing in his pocket and he checks to see that it’s Y/n calling him back.

“H, what’s wrong, is she ok?” Her panicked voice rushes out as soon as the call connects.

“We’re in the ER right now and she’s getting an x-ray to see what’s going on with her ankle-”

“You’re in the room with her right? She’s not alone?”

The little shards of his heart keep breaking into smaller and smaller pieces as her voice breaks.

“Yeah, I’m right next to her. Don’t worry m’love, she’s not alone!” He glared at the doctor that tried to keep him out as he said that, letting him know he hadn’t forgotten.

“I’m gonna facetime you so I can see her.” She said and he nodded, waiting for it to come through. When it did he quickly accepted it, seeing the love of his life’s face on the screen, with her puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks as she wiped away the remaining tears so she didn’t freak out her baby.

“Stell, mumma’s on the phone, she wants to talk to you.”

“Hi baby girl!” Y/n said as soon as Harry held the phone so Stella could see her mom. The little girl's tear stained cheeks looked exactly like her moms, and her heart broke for her baby.

“Hi mumma,” Stella pouted into the camera, clutching onto her daddy as tight as her little hand could. Harry was a little uncomfortable but he would take this over not being in here at all.

“How do you feel, baby? You ok?” She asked.

“My foot hurts and they wouldn’t let daddy in here and I was scared, but he’s here now so I’m ok.” The little girl rambled off. Y/n almost missed how she said they wouldn’t let Harry in the room but when it finally registered, she was fuming. Absolutely, royally pissed.

“What do you mean they wouldn’t daddy in there?” Stella shrugged and looked up at Harry for an answer. He brought the phone back so he could see her after looking around at the doctors in the room, all doing their job and pretending they weren’t listening to this conversation, but a few of them winced when Y/n asked her question.

“Some bloke tried to keep me out of the room while Stella was being examined but she was on the verge of a whole breakdown. It was like Disneyland in Paris all over again.” He said, referencing the time Harry took his girls to Disneyland while they were in Paris and Stella got separated from her mom and dad. She had never not been able to see at least 1 of her parents before. Needless to say… she didn’t handle it very well. Screaming, crying, and hyperventilating (which freaked her out even more- causing her to scream louder and cry harder) ensued very shortly, disturbing every person around her. But it made it easy for them to find her and she spent a very very long time clutching her tiny arms around her daddy’s neck, not letting him set her down for anything. That was an interesting trip to the bathroom …

“Why would they try to keep you out of the room? You’re her father!” Y/n was on the verge of popping a blood vessel. Of course the one time her baby really needs her, she’s hours away.

“Uh, Mr. Styles, I’m so sorry to interrupt! But the x-ray is complete. There’s no break, it looks like a sprain at worst. Also, about why my intern was saying you weren’t allowed in the room, not that I was listening to your conversation, with ped’s cases we typically only allow legal parents or guardians in the room and your name isn’t anywhere on her file or on her records so he was just trying to follow safety protocols. He didn’t go about the situation as well as he should have because we always want to make sure our patient has what they need and that was obviously you- but that is the reason why you initially weren’t let into the room. You’re not a legal parent or guardian. Based on your situation- you’re legally considered a step-parent and that title doesn’t come along with any legal jurisdiction.” Dr. Robins explained, in quite a few words Harry thinks, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Just sits and realizes that while for the better part of a year and a half, he’s been calling himself Stella’s dad but the whole he’s not been anything… not legally anyway.

Y/n realizes this too and makes a mental note to call their lawyers to do something about that.

“That makes sense… Thank you, Dr. Robbins! I have her mum on the phone, but you knew that, so if there’s anything else I legally can’t do, she’ll have to take care of it like thi-”

“Mr. Styles, we won’t tell if you don’t! Anything else that needs to be signed, we’ll just go ahead and have you do it. Save the hassle for everyone.” Dr. Robbins interrupts him and he smiles, silently thanking her.

“Daddy, what's a legal guardian?” Stella asks after a quiet moment.

“A legal guardian is someone who takes care of you because the law says they can. So because I didn’t help mumma make you and I came into your life a little later, I’m not a legal guardian of you. Not yet anyway.” He mumbles the last part but Y/n catches it.

“Does everyone have a legal guardian?” She hiccuped, rubbing at her eyes with the hand that wasn’t clutching Harry’s.

“At one point yeah, but once you get older you don’t need one anymore because you can take care of yourself.”

The girl pauses, thinking about her daddy’s words before muttering “Don’t wanna take care of myself. Wanna stay with you and mumma forever.”

All the little shards of his heart slowly start to piece back together.

“I want you to stay with me and mumma forever too lovebug.” He cooes. Y/n’s eyes light up, her gaze filled with adoration for her little family.

. * .

*

“The documents are all drawn up Mrs. Styles, everything is ready for your husband to sign.”

“Thank you so much Ben!”

. * .

*

“Baby, c’mere. Wanna talk to you about something.”

“Yeah mommy?”

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to quell the tears she could already feel threatening to fall. Her newly wed husband sat beside her on the couch, running his hand along her back and squeezing her shoulder and letting her know he was there if she needed him.

“Do you remember when you and Daddy had that conversation about legal guardians?” The woman asked, pulling her baby into her lap, brushing her hand over the girl's hair affectionately.

“Uhhh, kinda.” She murmured, curling into her mom.

“Do you remember what a legal guardian is?” Y/n rephrased, hoping to jog the girl's memory. Stella nodded and when prompted by her mother explained that “It’s someone who takes care of you until you're old enough to take care of yourself.”

“That’s right baby, very good!”

“And do you remember when we were at the hospital and that doctor was being mean, not letting Daddy into the room with you?” Harry chimes in, scooting closer to his girls. She nodded with a roll of her eyes and a huff of breath, causing a little giggle to erupt from her parents. She really is her mothers daughter.

“Didn’t like him.” She mumbles.

“Do you remember why they didn’t let him into the room?” Y/n asks, knowing she should probably get to the point before her little one checks out and gets bored.

“Cause daddy’s not my legal guardian.” Stella huffs again, rubbing her eyes and nuzzling further into her mom.

“Do you want him to be?”

Stella’s quiet for a moment, tapping her little finger on her chin like she’s thinking hard. “Yeah.”

“Yeah? You want that baby?” Harry asks, pulling her into his lap. The girl wraps her arms around his neck and lays her head on his shoulder, nodding.

“Yeah, Daddy. Want you to be able to come to the doctors with me.” She mumbles sleepily.

The tears Y/n had been fighting off finally broke through, despite her efforts. It’s official. Harry is going to adopt Stella and they would be a family in every sense of the word. No one would be able to take Harry's little girl away from him. All he had to do was sign the paper. Harry felt tears spring to his eyes as well, smoothing his hand along his baby’s back.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that…” He says, squeezing her a little tighter. Y/n snaps a quick picture before she snuggles into them.

“Love you Mommy, love you Daddy.” She murmurs before falling asleep in Harry's arms. Something that isn’t new, but feels different now for some reason. Things felt a little more official and he hadn’t even signed the papers yet.

[rosykims]

oc interview // ashara lavellan

i was tagged a couple days ago by @vaughn-the-bandit-king thanks so much and consider yourself retagged if u want! this took me a while to write in a way i was happy w but i had a lot of fun with it!!

tagging: @falkreathh @trvelyans @drthamen @ciriofcintras @blckwall and anyone else who wants to, please tag me so i can read!

~

1. What is your name?

“If you must refer to me at all, Inquisitor will do just fine.”

She pauses, and seems to begrudgingly consider something for a moment. She then sighs.

“Apologies. My name is Ashara. Ashara Dhavise of clan Lavellan.”

2. Do you know why are you named that?

“Dhavise, roughly translated, means ‘kissed by fire'. A name my immediate family chose, due to a shared affinity for fire magic. As for my first name, Ashara typically means ‘woman on a journey'. Perhaps my parents had some insight that we all lacked.”

She smiles mirthlessly.

“A pity we can't ask them.”

3. Are you single or taken?

She blinks for a moment, before clearing her throat quietly.

“Next question.”

4. Have any abilities or powers?

“Are you inquiring about my abilities, or the Anchor’s?”

She observes her right hand absently.

“I am a mage – fire elementalist, simple as that. As for the Anchor – well. From what I've discovered, actively it’s only able to close and open rifts. It's also slightly enhanced my skills in spirit magic and my sub conscious connection to the Fade, but I'm not able to perform miracles, if that's what you're asking.”

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

She stares.

“Am I supposed to know what that is?”

6. What’s your eye color?

“Blue.”

7. How about your hair color?

She sighs. “Black.”

8. Have any family members?

She tenses ever so slightly, but clenches her jaw and recovers smoothly.

“Define ‘having'. Actually, don't. Next question.”

9. Oh? How about pets?

“Animals seem utterly uninterested in me for the most part, so no, I don't. My clan kept halla in the Free Marches, though, if that counts.”

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like?

“This conversation?”

Somewhere out of view, Josephine clears her throat, and Ashara sighs.

“I dislike wilful ignorance – people who have the capacity to know better but chose not to. And I detest liars. Believe what you will about me, but I don't lie. Next question.”

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

She smiles. Small, but genuine this time.

“My magic has always been my greatest passion. Mine, and any other form of the arcane. I find it fascinating, that we Mages carry something greater and older than we are. Perhaps that's also the reason I have such a fondness for ancient Elven history. Of course, being Dalish, I care about the preservation of my culture – but I also just . . . I don't know. I want the truth, ugly or not. I want to know, so that my people can grow, and learn from the mistakes of our ancestors. I believe that -"

She seems to catch herself and falters. She bites her lip and squares her shoulders, instantly slipping back into her calm, cool demeanour.

“I also enjoy journaling, and ice skating, on occasion.”

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

She scoffs. “Have you met me?”

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

Her good humour fades as a shadow crosses her face. She nods solemnly.

“Far too many to count. Directly, and indirectly too. I do what I can to plan ahead, to minimize the risks, to save those who are capable of being saved. It's not always enough, though, try as we might. All we can do is reflect, learn from our mistakes, and promise to do better in the names of the people we've lost.”

14. What kind of animal are you?

“I'm not an animal. Next question.”

15. Name your worst habits?

“I am . . . quite inept when it comes to talking to people. I believe I can come across as a bit . . . bristly. I also have a bad habit of reading in poor lighting – and I've been told I crack my fingers far too much as well. Go figure.”

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

“I have a great deal of respect for Montsimmard’s First Enchanter, Madam De Fer. She is an exceptional mentor, and a brilliant Mage. I believe I could learn a great deal from her, in time.”

She opens her mouth to add something, then pauses, her cheeks beginning to redden.

“I . . . our resident Fade expert, Solas, is rather adept, as well. He is a unique man, intelligent and insightful. We share a mutual interest in the unknown, and I have found his presence to be . . . refreshing.”

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

“I don't see how this is even remotely relevant to my work as Inquisitor. Next question.”

18. Do you go to school?

“No, unfortunately, though as a child I often daydreamed of attending the University of Orlais. Perhaps I will, one day. That is, if they decide to begin enrolling Elven students.”

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

“Marriage is a Shemlen concept, not usually practiced by the Dalish. Regardless, marriage and domesticity has never held my interest, so I don't see that happening in my future, no. “

She considers for a moment, before adding,

“I would quite like to have a child, however. One day, maybe.”

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

She laughs. “Josie, do you think Cullen counts?”

21. What are you most afraid of?

“I . . . don’t like despair demons. Next question.”

22. What do you usually wear?

“I do believe that appearances matter, and what you chose to wear is a reflection of the person you are. For that reason, I try to stick with apparel that conveys strength, and power. At best, it will inspire the people who depend on the Inquisitor, but if nothing else, at least it will intimidate the shem nobles.”

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

“My Keeper used to prepare a special desert made from wild berries and a touch of elfroot, I think. She never gave up the recipe, but it was always a favourite within our clan. I cant tell you how many arguments we all had about who was more deserving of seconds.”

24. Am I annoying to you?

She rolls her eyes. “If you have to ask . . .?”

25. Well, it’s still not over!

“Fenehdis.”

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

She ponders for a moment. “An interesting question. I suppose high, given my status as Inquisitor. The benefits are given to me due to my title, however, so I suppose without it I would be lower class.”

27. How many friends do you have?

“Half of Skyhold considers themselves my friend, so I suppose you ought to ask them.”

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

Ashara groans and brings a hand up to soothe her temples. Under her breath, she mutters, “I can't believe I cancelled my morning with Solas for this.”

29. Favorite drink?

Dejectedly, “Red wine.”

30. What’s your favorite place?

“Orlais.”

31. Are you interested in anyone?

Again, she blinks, taken off guard once more. “I . . . once again, I don't see how that's relevant. I'm interested in Corypheus, and the Venatori, and all the surviving members of the Red Templars. Until those matters are resolved, the Inquisition is my top priority.

32. That was a stupid question…

“Just that one?”

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

“Creators . . . a lake? I've never swam in the ocean.”

34. What’s your type?

She sighs in defeat. “Although it isn't at all on topic . . . I admire intelligence above anything else. Someone who is self aware and recognises their flaws, but continues to learn and improve despite them. Respect is a must, and independence, too. I appreciate creativity, and level headedness, and I suppose just someone I can enjoy an amicable silence with. I would go on, but I'm sure I've said plenty.”

There is an absent smile just teasing the corners of her lips.

35. Any fetishes?

Her smile twists into a furious scowl.

“By the Dread Wolf, is that a joke?”

36. Camping or outdoors?

She gets out of her chair, brushing lint off her coat and avoiding eyecontact.

“This interview is over. Get out.”

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Puddle Jumper, Ch1

Genre: sci-fi fantasy, wlw, series

Words: 3.2K

Summary: A young woman starts seeing a mysterious figure in the nearby puddles, it’s only a matter of time before she goes looking into them

CHAPTERS: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

WordPress ⭐Ko-Fi ⭐Patreon

CHAPTER ONE: MARNY ISN’T DEAD

When I was seven I lived in a place with no rain. Dry as dust and thirsty as a man lampooned in the pacific, I thought Arizona would never end. Skies as blue as uncut blood, land bathed in brilliant bleached light from one corner to the next. It was the third place I ever lived, a small tiny condominium with five neighbors and no outlet mall for twenty miles.

All the houses in the town had three things in common: the color beige, tiny blinking wall lizards, and an oblong pool in every backyard. Some of the pools were even filled, those were the people you wanted to make friends with but I never was very good at making friends. You could lose them too easily, upset them too thoroughly, lose them, lose them, lose.

It was a barking hot day in late August when I Arizona become more of an enigma than just the heat and grungy pool bottoms.

It was August and I stare at one of the Arizona house lizards, with it’s muddy green stripes down its back and tiny little hands clinging to our wall. I pinch my lips together and wiggle my fingers, it’s thin scaly body mocks me. My mom always told me to leave them alone- more would just take their place. I’m not very good at letting things go.

I follow the lizard, watching it waddle and blink across my bumpy living room wall, I huff a deep breath, trying to get up the nerve to make a dive at him again. “This isn’t your home,” I hiss and scowl at the thing. “Go make a tiny lizard home outside, shoo.” He doesn’t listen.

The house was empty, my mom had given up forcing me to go to school that day in particular since I managed to kick and scream at the door so much. I was eight, I could stay home alone for just a day. A stalk a lizard along the living room wall and bite my bottom lip so hard it cracks, sweet beads down my brow. I meet the lizards eye and we size each other up, only one champion could arise. 

I tense.

“Boof!”

I only jump slightly when a loud bark erupts off to my left.

“Boof!”

I frown and turn around to face our small reddish-brown terrier mix, he stares blandly back at me. He was seven-years old at this point and still hadn’t learned polite conversation.

He was more of a ‘constant screamer’ than the conversational type, I scowl back at him.

“Shush, Rusty, I’m working.” I straighten my shirt like I had seen my dad do last year, right before he left for the office each day.

“Boof, boof, boof!”

I roll my eyes and turn back to the wall, “at least try and eat the lizard. It’s bringing disease!” I didn’t know that, but neither did Rusty.

He goes to the door and scratches at it, “Boof, boof.”

I put my hands on my hips, “It’s so dang hot, Rust, you’ll start panting and whine to come back in,” I wag a finger, “silly boy.”

“Boof, boof-” His eyes are focused on something outside, I don’t check what it is.

I try to reason with him, “it’s just the sun boy.”

“Boof, boof, boof, boof,” he yaps non-stop.

“Fine, fine!” I say hotly and turn toward the sliding glass door, I didn’t know what he was looking at at the time. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I open the door and shoo him out into the dry scraggly grass and empty blue sky.

He’s gone in a heartbeat, Rusty was a good dog. He never complained when we took our long road trips with few bathroom breaks, he always put his small head on my lap when I cried.

He didn’t go streaking off into the neighbors yard as fast as a bullet, he didn’t go running out into nowhere. But my mom always said no matter how well you know an animal they’ll still be a whole other world to you. They don’t think the same.

Rusty did take off like a speeding bullet.

I stick my head out after him and for a moment, just a moment, I think I see him falling, falling and falling straight into the neighbors shallow pool.

But that can’t be true.

I dash outside and yelp at the painful spiky dry grass hitting my soft bare feet and go jumping and yelping toward the pool, “you silly dog.” I chastise when I get to the pool, but, of course, it’s empty.

I stand there for a very long five minutes.

We spend the next few days with ‘lost’ posters and circling the town in my mom’s brown corolla.

Perhaps if I had known better I wouldn’t have lost him. I was a responsible child, that’s how I documented it. I didn’t think of my mother’s wrath or the spanking I’d get, I bit my lip and didn’t think about how we could possibly lose a small terrier dog on a street with only five people.

I cry and keep looking for our small terrier mix for three months, right up until the neighbor girl just tells me my dog is dead. That’s just what happens to pets she said, she lost her hamster last year just like that, it’s how it was.

I cry again, I was a big crier, my mom said I’d never get a boyfriend if I kept that up, but maybe she was telling a joke or nursing one of her famous headaches, I don’t know.

When I was 28 I lived somewhere with only rain and sky the color of rumbling grey mush, it was all rain and streets with no sidewalks, and I this time I had hope Marny wasn’t dead.

-------

I’m 28 and it’s a damp fall day with no hope of sun in sight.

A light drizzle wets my cheek and clings to my clothes like a chilly dust sprinkling the earth. The rain isn’t heavy enough to demand an umbrella, but it does send a chill into my bones. I wish I’d worn some more sensible shoes, but I don’t want to go back now.

The neighborhood is silent all around me, crawling with it’s own faceless quiet. I stare around, searching for even the tiniest movement.

I cup my hands around my mouth. “Marny!” I call in a sing-song voice.

Nothing, just the hush of a neighborhood full of overworked young adults and a nuclear family that always made their kids go to school each day (unlike some people).

My sneakers make an uncomfortable squishing sound as I step out of the grass and onto the driveway. I stare right, left, right again. Still nothing.

Other than a bird squawking tunelessly in the distance, it feels like I’m the lone survivor of some nuclear apocalypse. Well, that’s Thursday afternoon for you.

I walk down the street, shoes squishing with every step, stopping at each house to check their gardens and bushes.

I pause at end of the road to hike up my too-loose jeans. Marny rarely leaves the street but I decide to check anyway. She doesn’t know the rest of the neighborhood well, and might have gotten lost. That could explain why I haven’t seen her in days.

My street is about halfway down a steep slope with the neighborhood entrance at one end, beside the cemetery, and the park at the bottom. I remember when I first got here and rode my bike down this slope, crashing into the fence at the bottom. There’s a slight ache in left hand where I skid on the slick street and rammed into the metal, Julie called it ‘over-enthusiasm.’ I called it getting rid of my new bike.

I sniff and remind myself I am an adult that does not resent inanimate objects, I skirt the fence anyway.

“Marny,” I call again, this time a little more weakly.

The road is empty as I begin the slow climb up to the neighborhood entrance. The cemetery is damp and full of uneven patchy ground, annoyingly mundane for a place dedicated to dead bodies. If Marny is sleeping here again though I’ll still be glad I checked, even though I was starting to frown deeply. I would check the benches, and then the park, and then I’ll break out the ‘lost’ posers. Something twinges inside me at the thought.

I sigh and hike up my pants again. I need either a belt or a smaller pair of pants, but I’m lucky to get to the grocery store these days, much less Goodwill.

“Marny,” I call, mindless of anyone who could be listening. “Marny! If you don’t come out right now I’m going to eat all your tuna Meow Mix! Don’t think I won’t.”

I wouldn’t eat it of course. I’ve tried it, and it tastes worse than you would think. Very filling though.

The cemetery is small plot of land that blends mutely into the surrounding area, my friend once asked if I minded living by a dead person plot, but it never really stood out in my mind. 

Wild green grass, a collection of crumbling headstones, and a single willow tree that rose in the middle like the citadel of a long forgotten city. No one has been buried here in decades and not not even the local goth kids wanted to bother the Sue’s and Paul’s of the bland graveyard.

Marny likes to come here and sunbathe on the stone benches, ignoring the world and showing her belly to the light. Of course, she’s not here either. I check the hedges along the rear.

“Here kitty!” I call.

A raindrop falls through the air, landing on my nose. I wipe it away with my sleeve.

“Please not today,” I growl at the sky as if it will change anything. I don’t know what I expect of Portland weather.

When I’m sufficiently sure that Marny isn’t in the cemetery itself, I turn toward the muddy creek on its outskirts. I’m starting to get a sick feeling in my stomach, it wasn’t like her to disappear for days. In fact, it wasn’t like her to not be in plain sight giving me hard looks that asked: where is my dinner? And, why aren’t you wearing pants? Where is cat God now? Because, actually, I might be her.

But Marny wasn’t here.

I squeeze my eyes shut and block out the memory of a sharp thwap to the buttocks all those years ago. I take a deep steadying breath, “I’m an adult,” I reassure a ghost of myself, “I can take care of… things.” I spit the last word and keep walking.

I find the road and sturdy cement bridge leading toward the park just a skip away from the cemetery itself. I grit my teeth as the raindrops start to pelt my back, I wasn’t going back. Not quite yet. I survey the park, I check the neglected tables under the gizbo, I only collapse a little bit when despair starts to sink in.

“Marny,” I say softly this time and I’m almost crying. “Goddammit,” I’m making frantic little circles in the park, whistling and calling like a madwoman, “Marny! Marn! Please,” I’m running buck wild back across the bridge when I hear it.

Crystal clear and echoing like a feather-light tap on the shoulder. It hits me like a familiar pop song half-heard, the lyrics just out of reach.

A meow.

“Marny?” I pause, calling softly, “are you there?” Hope lifts like a little buoyant balloon in my chest.

I cross the bridge and I squat in the grass, peering around.

“Meow,” I hear it again and perk up, it’s behind me, I walk back across the bridge.

The sound rings through the silent air, piercing and clear. It’s not a distressed sound. It reminds me more of the one she would use when she wanted out, or wanted to come in the bathroom to watch the facet water.

“Meow.”

I turn in a slow circle, trying to locate the source. I peer over the railing into the creek. The only thing running under the bridge is a thick grey sludge. I wrinkle my nose.

“Meow,” she calls softly.

It sounds like it’s coming from the road. I head out into the street and stop. She’s nowhere to be seen.

“Come on girl!” I call. “Come on Marny.”

There it is again. While before it was distant, this time it’s right next to me. I freeze, standing on the bridge and shifting in place, I look down.

A pair of yellow-green eyes stare back at me. I blink, the world turns in reverse and the whole sky was bleeds red.

“What?” I say out loud to no one in particular.

It’s my cat. It’s Marny. But... it isn’t.

I stare into the puddle, only barely an inch deep, and Marny stares back at me. I glance around. It’s clearly not a reflection. My cat is in a puddle. My ten-pound monster cat is an inch-deep puddle.

I squat down to get a closer look. It’s clearly her, splotchy calico pattern and soft doe-eyes, long white whiskers and overly pleased look on her face, everything.

I don’t know how long I sit there, the rain soaking my hair and dripping down my back. A car roars by and I don’t lift my head to even glance at it.

Perhaps I could have flagged them down and asked ‘are you seeing this?’ Or ‘ubduh duh dah?’ as a more likely question I could get out right now.

Marny stares at me, I stare back, she yawns widely- like this is just a normal day at the office for her. I examine her through the flat circle of water.

It’s only then that I notice the gloved hands wrapped tight around her body, thick black things that are just visible in the image. There’s something else inside the puddle. A person, or a monster, or something, and they have my cat.

The unseen being shakes Marny, as if waiting for me to take her.

I bite my lower lip, and wonder if this is really happening.

They shake her again and Marny squirms in place, looking displeased.

I have to take the cat. I have to reach into the puddle and pull my cat out. I have to reach into a one inch deep puddle and pull out a ten pound cat that should not be able to physically fit inside.

I reach out hesitantly, curiously, like I’m nine again and about ot burn my fingertips off on the stove just to see if I can.

I take a deep breath, preparing to defy my better judgement and not just go check into a local nut house. I reach for the puddle.

“Don’t touch that,” a voice booms from somewhere close-by.

I lose my balance, falling backward into the wet pavement and hitting my tailbone roughly. “Ow!”

I rub my ass quickly and then look back into the puddle with my teeth bared, my mouth falls cleanly open.

A stranger stares at me out of the puddle, all flared nostrils and bushy eyebrows.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the stranger spits.

“What?” I say slowly.

The stranger glances in both directions. “Turn this damn thing off,” she barks at someone I can’t see and adjusts a pair of goggles perched on her short spiky brown hair. I notice a thick red scarf around her neck. “What?” I repeat.

The image in the puddle starts to flicker, she lifts her chin and the color starts to bleed out of whatever I’m seeing.

“Hey!” I yell, “Wait wait,” the colors begin to melt and disperse into ripples, “you have my cat!”

The image disappears like a mirage in the desert, and I’m left, soaking wet and utterly alone. The puddle lay empty, as if I hadn’t just lost my mind (and perhaps my cat) in one single moment.

I take a second to think about Rusty and what my mom would possibly say. Probably something about not crying.

--

It takes me ten minutes to pick up a nearby stick and poke the puddle, curiously tapping on its surface and waiting for a tentacle to come out of it or figure to announce ‘Yer a wizard Lori.’ Nothing but a few ripples arise.

“Well dammit,” I scratch the back of my neck and I swear I hear another mew. But it takes another ten minutes for me to realize that nothing new was going to rise out of the water.

It takes me five minutes to walk home and put an ice pack on my bruises where I landed on my ass.

It was a long Thursday and even longer evening as I stare at the ceiling and think about nothing. Work would call soon and ask if I was coming back yet.

I’m dozing, a computer open in my lap with several google searches open starting with ‘Top tests for your mental health’ and pages called ‘Is God Contacting you? Take this quiz and find out!”

My consciousness is scattered to the breeze when I hear small, tiny, scratch at the door. I start awake, knocking ice pack down to the floor and sitting up straight.

Another push comes at the door.

“Rusty?” I squint at the door and pause, “Marny.”

I run to the front door to rip it open, a cool breeze hits my face and I stand listlessly in front of an empty perch. 

And then another soft mew arises behind me.

When I turn around I see a plump, round, calico cat sitting on my kitchen counter, she’s twitching her tail and blinking at me.

“Marny!” I say her name like a curse this time and fold my arms over my chest as if I plan to ask her what she think she’s doing. She loudly asks for diner in reply.

“What do, how did you, ugh.” I pull at my long black hair and go stomping back over to her. “I hope you have a good explanation for all this young lady.”

“Mrrrrow.”

I ruffle my hair, “that’s what I thought.” I shake my head and reach under the counter for her dish. I push down any other feelings.

She had probably been sleeping in my closet this whole time. Or under my clothes pile from yesterday. Or anywhere not a watery 1-inch puddle on a random bridge.

I’m ready to keep chewing her out and then push my nose into her butter soft fur and inhale, but then, of course, I notice something stuck in her collar.

My eyes go wide, “what have you been…up to?” I furrow my brow and reach slowly, hesitantly, toward a thin white piece of paper wrapped around her orange collar. I poke it.

I exhale, “it’s just paper.” I shake my head and delicately remove it from around the band. It feels strange and soft in my hands, but I ignore any shifting in my stomach as I slowly unroll it.

I frown decidedly at five simple words: Stop. Sending. Us. Your. Cat.

“I’m not sending her anywhere,” I argue with no one, I turn my chin sharply up, “You hear that?” I yell at the ceiling, “she just gets out sometimes.” I grumble and try to shake sense back into my head, I go to toss out the piece of paper.

The neighborhood kids could be very strange I decided. I throw it out, get out the meow mix and lock the doors twice that night. The memory fades like the image in the puddle itself.

That is until the next time Marny disappears.

[thenotsolittlelady]

OC Interview - Xah’jo

Tagged by @serbaki (Totally unexpected! Thank you for that! :> )

Tagging... Let’s see... @sad4ppleart​ and @shanicetjn​ if you guys are up for this! :D

1. What is your name?

“Xah’jo. Plain an’ simple.”

2. What is your real name?

“I don’t know what you’re driving at, but unless you want to switch to boss or master you can just call me Xah’jo. That’s my whole name.”

3. Do you know why you were called that?

The troll sighs. “Don’t know, don’t care. Ya’d probably have to ask the orphan matron in Orgrimmar.” The troll shrugs, though he looks a bit tense. “Next question.”

4. Are you single or taken?

“Single. Always have been, always will be. Relationships are just not my thing, ya know?”

5. Have any abilities or powers?

“Let’s see... Being good with the ladies, being clever and incredibily handsome, always getting what I want... I’d say I have several~” 

6. Stop being a Mary Sue.

”I’m perfect, a masterpiece to say the least. Deal with it.” 

7. What’s your eye colour?

“Red. Brownish red.” The troll grins and leans forward. “But I invite ya to take a deep look into my eyes an’ see for yerself...~” 

8. How about your hair colour?

“Naturally a bluish green, but with this nice gradient. Turquoise near the hairline, green near the end.” 

9. Have you any family members?

Xah’jo tries to stay cool, but it’s apparent he’s tensing up a bit. “No. None.”

10. Okay then... Any pets?

“Well... Every once in a while some doll offers to be my pet for a while... Or just for the night...~ But pets as in animal companions... No. Not at the moment at least.”

11. Tell me about something you don’t like.

“There are quite some things I despise, actually. I can’t stand people going through my stuff, for example. Especially my gold and jewelry. That belongs to me and no one is to touch it, ever.

12. Sorry. Let’s move on to hobbies and interests?

“Reading and long walks down the beach.” Xah’jo chuckles. “Just kidding. Sex, booze and gold. The three things that keep me running.”

13. Have you ever hurt anybody before?

“Physically and emotionally. Yes. Sometimes both at the same time. But to be honest, is it really my fault they were expecting us to stay together happily ever after? I don’t think so.”

14. Ever… killed anyone before?

“I’m not much of a killer usually, but I have and I would again...” 

15. What kind of animal are you?

“What kind of question is that?”

16. Name your worst habits.

“I wouldn’t exactly call them ‘bad habits’, but I can’t resist taking something from any place I go. Also, I tend to have one too many from time to time-” (Veez snorts with laughter in the background: “’Tend to... from time to time’! Hahah! Sure! That guy has no self-control whatsoever when it comes to booze!”)  “Oh, shut up, will you?!”

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

“No, but I believe everyone should look up to me~”

18. Sexual orientation?

“I don’t really care much about gender. I’m just looking for cute, submissive dolls...~ And to be honest, as much as I enjoy tacos, playing with sausages can be a lot of fun, if ya know what I mean~”

19. I... understand... Do you go to school?

“I’m generally self-taught. Sometimes I was given assistance as a child, but I’ve never been to school. It’s just not for me.”

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids someday?

“Oh, please, no. I’ll never understand why anyone would want that. Though.... I gotta admit if you walk around you might find some kids of mine. Pulling out doesn’t always work out that well, ya know?”

21. Do you... Have fangirls or fanboys? “Well, I guess so. Isn’t there one right infront of me right now asking me questions...~?”

22. What do you do for a living?

“Trade secret. But I’ll give you a clue: Ya might want to watch out for your wallet...~”

23. What are you most afraid of?

“I’m not afraid of anything. Next question.”

24. What do you usually wear?

“Some nice red pants, sometimes a plain shirt, but I generally prefer to go topless~”

25. Do you love someone?

“There’s only one person who actually deserves my love, at that person is me.”

26. When was the last time you wet yourself?

“What-? Who is coming up with those questions?! I can’t recall ever having wet myself. Next!”

27. Is there anything you won’t answer?

"...”

28. What class are you? (High class, middle class, low class)

“I wouldn’t actually sort myself into any class. I don’t like being put into categories. But if I had to... I would probably say I’m somewhere in the middle. Though I aspire to enter the higher class. Own a nice mansion with many servants and vast fortune.”

29. How many friends do you have?

“Real friends are rare. If I had to count them... I’d probably say about one or two. But to be honest I don’t really need friends.” (Veez rolls his eyes. “Yep, he claims that everytime...”)

30. What are your thoughts on pie?

“Pie? You must have worked hard to come up with those weird questions...”

31. Favourite drink?

“Booze. The stronger the better.”

32. What’s your favorite place?

“At home, surrounded by my treasures, maybe a few pretty dolls serving me.”

33. Are you interested in someone?

“I’m generally interested in a lot of people. Usually when it comes to finding a companion for the night...~”

34. What’s your bra cup size or how big is your willy?

“I’ll let you take a look and see for yourself if you’re interested...~” 

35. That’s a bit vague isn’t it…

“I would strip naked to show you, but I prefer to let others take on that part.”

36. Okay fine. What’s your type?

“I’ll take anyone who’s cute. I do prefer submissive companions, but taming a wild one is just as exciting...~”

37. Any fetishes?

“Why don’t ya join me tonight and find out for yourself...~?”

38. Top or Bottom?

“I’ll gladly dominate you, if that’s what you’re asking~”

39. Uhm... So, you seem quite comfortable with yourself.

“I am. I’m a masterpiece and I'm aware of my abilities~ ” 

40. Would you like this interview to end?

“I would like to shift this interview to a more private place...~” The trolls smirks seductively and slowly comes closer.

41. W-Well, thanks for answering these questions! This interview is over now!

“Naaw, what a shame doll. I would have loved to spend some more time with you. But maybe we’ll see again sometime. Also, remember your wallet~ Until then...~”