pratentious-deactivated20140404:
Put one of these in my askbox to see how my Muse reacts.“Like some sunglasses?” Arthur grumbled, even though his eyes were perfectly protected. “Or have you developed some immunity towards the sunlight and haven’t bothered to share?”
“Having olive skin is not an immunity, nor is it sharable. No wonder you’re so grumpy all the time, you don’t get enough vitamin d.”
pratentious-deactivated20140404:
”Why? Does it show on my face?” Drunky drunk.
“It really kind of does, my lord.” She gestures to her nose. “About the eyes, I think.”
“You know, I did just nearly die. You could stand to be a little nicer to me.”
“Now what would be the fun in that? You wouldn’t nearly die so often if you bothered to exercise a little caution, sire.”
College: Our characters meet while attending university and end up sharing a dorm room. Awkwardness ensues after a drunk one night stand after a night of partying
Summer rolled over — tried to roll over. There was something in the way, something warm that gave a little under her touch. She blinked her eyes open, one hand rubbing sleep nits out of green eyes, to find herself tucked up against the firm, muscled shoulder of a sleeping blond.
A very handsome blond.
A /very/ familiar blond.
“Aw, shite,” she muttered. Not only was Arthur lying on her red hair, making it impossible for her to get up, or even move very far — from the looks of things, and her admittedly slightly hazy memories, they’d slept together.
After agreeing not to at the beginning of the school year. A month ago.
She flopped over as far as she could go and groaned. At least she didn’t have a hangover, but sleeping with Arthur, after agreeing not to, was just as bad. Well, almost as bad.
Well — from what she remembered, not really bad at all. She wasn’t sure if she was glad or upset that drinking didn’t impair her memory.
“Arthur. Wake up.”
Never let it be said that Arthur Penn cannot hold his alcohol. While he was nowhere near as skilled as Gwaine in that department, he was far better than Merlin. One slurp of a light beer and the idiot became more giggly than a schoolgirl.
However, even Arthur has his limits.
He groaned, frowning slightly when it felt as though he was not in his own bed. Well, there was warmth, and at that moment, that was all that mattered. He had always been good at talking himself out of situation such as these— Hell, last time he managed to convince the blokes to take him out for pancakes.
The voice changed all that.
His eyes cracked open, finding her almost immediately. “This… isn’t happening. This… ugh. Don’t suppose you have a bucket handy?”
“Trash can’s empty. Same place it always is, end of the bed.” Summer didn’t look at him. This was going to be even worse than she feared. Not only had they apparently slept together, but either he didn’t remember at all or he was really unhappy about it.
/And/ he had a hangover.
She put one arm over her eyes, keeping any and all extra senses locked up tight. The last thing she needed right now was to know something she shouldn’t know, and blurt it out. “Do you remember anything from last night?”
College: Our characters meet while attending university and end up sharing a dorm room. Awkwardness ensues after a drunk one night stand after a night of partying
Summer rolled over — tried to roll over. There was something in the way, something warm that gave a little under her touch. She blinked her eyes open, one hand rubbing sleep nits out of green eyes, to find herself tucked up against the firm, muscled shoulder of a sleeping blond.
A very handsome blond.
A /very/ familiar blond.
“Aw, shite,” she muttered. Not only was Arthur lying on her red hair, making it impossible for her to get up, or even move very far — from the looks of things, and her admittedly slightly hazy memories, they’d slept together.
After agreeing not to at the beginning of the school year. A month ago.
She flopped over as far as she could go and groaned. At least she didn’t have a hangover, but sleeping with Arthur, after agreeing not to, was just as bad. Well, almost as bad.
Well — from what she remembered, not really bad at all. She wasn’t sure if she was glad or upset that drinking didn’t impair her memory.
“Arthur. Wake up.”
I wish I was better at getting people to want to write with me.
Summer Rainault shaded her eyes, glancing up at the sun. She was nearly to Camelot; in fact, she could see the castle’s towers rising in the distance. The heat was oppressive, and she nudged her mare to greater speed, hoping to at least generate a cooling breeze.
Absorbed in her thoughts, she didn’t pay much attention to the sounds around her until the several roughly dressed men had surrounded her. “Well hey, what’s this?” one of them growled, brandishing a knife at her. “Pretty girl, all alone, not a good thing.” Another one chuckled, a cruel sound.
“All your money, and quickly,” the one with the knife said, beckoning.
Summer twisted her mouth sideways. “Do I look to have money on me, you fool?”
