Mar 31, 2014
"I'm pregnant and it's yours." Send this to the next 10 people on your dash just for shits and giggles to get a reaction.
"Are you drunk? I think you are. Go to bed, dumbass."
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"I'm pregnant and it's yours." Send this to the next 10 people on your dash just for shits and giggles to get a reaction.
"Are you drunk? I think you are. Go to bed, dumbass."
Early in the winter of her nineteenth year, Iris was “randomly chosen” to be a part of the Selection, a country wide competition to marry the prince. Thirty-five girls - one from every province - were selected to go to the palace and compete for his love. And Iris didn’t think she could fall in love with the prince; on camera, he seemed so uptight. She despised it, and being from one of the less wealthy parts of the country, she never had been around people like that. On her first night at the palace, she’d seen him at dinner, but that was it; she shouldn’t meet him till the next morning. But of course, she’d ran out to the courtyard after the Selected were sent back to their rooms, practically aching for the relief of not being stuck in her room. It was like a cage. The girl walked through the garden silently, gazing up at the stars until she saw someone - the prince, obviously. She turned around and began to walk back inside before hearing him say something.
"Who did this to you?" - Quinn → any of your muses!
She'll shift around a bit, fiddling with her fingers and trying to hide how nervous she suddenly seems to be. "Uh-- would it be believable if I said a rabid squirrel is to blame--?"