Anonymous: If you were to be on a desert island with just one person like Robinson Crousoe who would thar be
Oh, that’d be Hawke for certain. There aren’t a lot of people I know who:
There are a few I’d consider, but most of them fail on at least one of the criteria. I can talk to Aveline for hours, but she couldn’t keep up with me. Zevran’s tongue can certainly go for hours, but he sometimes wants to kill me, and he isn’t much of a sparkling conversationalist. The sex would be fun, but we’d get bored of each other and try to kill each other eventually. It’s why the two of us work just fine in small doses but, for our own sakes, we keep it quick and casual.
Hawke’s the best choice. She’d be the one most likely to get us off that island, she’d be the most fun to spend time with, and she’s already given me some of the greatest jolly rogering that I’ve ever had. Plus she’s fun to talk to and we enjoy doing things besides each other when we’re together to boot. She’s definitely the top choice.
Who would you choose if you were marooned on a desert island?
I cracked an eye open. My head hurt, the sort of dull throbbing that you associate with wanting death. I tried to lift it, but all I heard was the tinkle of glass on glass as the throbbing and pain intensified. As each wave assaulted my temples, the dull ache faded and were overshadowed by the sharp jabs of agony from behind my eyes. My mouth was bitter, and my tongue felt dry and coated with some sort of thick, bitter residue. I lowered my head again, hoping to escape from some of the discomfort behind my eyes.
I tried to take stock of my location. A wooden table. A lot of empty bottles. A pounding headache. And a stray breeze reminds me that I’m naked.
I’m in a bad way.
My hands shake.
It’s everywhere. The knowing looks. The stifled moans. The mussed sex hair. The very smell. I can see it all so clearly.That barmaid and the lout from the docks are shagging, I know it. That pig-like nobleman in the purple gets his bottom paddled by his elf manservant late at night. This lay sister loves to waxes her lower mustache in places she knows she might be caught.
And I can’t have any myself. I feel like I’m losing control.
"Oh, hello Isabela!"
Kitten looks the same as she always does. Nothing ever seems to touch her.
"Whore," Aveline says with a slight incline of the head. Her face is a bit more flushed than usual. Her hair is mussed. I can practically smell it on her. Even her?!
"Are you alright, Isabela? You look…"
The little elf trailed off as she tried to find a word that didn’t mean ‘awful’.
"Awful," finished the smug, freshly-fucked female said. She clucked her tongue and straightened her mussed hair.
Ugh. Even the sound of her voice grated on my last nerve. Especially when combined with all of the little things that I had seen… and been unable to take part in.
I had thought it was just a joke. It wasn’t.
Then I thought I’d be able to sneak off and do something on my own. But no, that woman is uncanny. It must be some form of blood magic, or perhaps a deal with a demon. I had begun thinking it was I who made a bargain with a demon… Whenever I began to even think about reaching my fingers southward, she was there to remind me of the terms of the wager.
She never forced me to do anything, however. It was always completely innocuous. But I didn’t want to lose. Not this time. The more I thought about it, the more the thought of the consequences became unbearable.
It was driving me mad.
And then she began teasing. It started off small and subtle. She’d read my favorite books that evening together in the library. She’d touch me. Like she usually does when I’m not on this ridiculous wager. On purpose. But that wasn’t enough. Now most recently, she’s begun touching herself. Where she knows I can see her.
I shuddered. The mental images sprang into my mind, and I couldn’t banish them.
Ugh. Every single living thing in the entire city was getting some except for me.
It was suffocating, like the pressure from all sides when you dive too deeply under water.
And then she walked in. Her smiling face, those gorgeous eyes, the sauntering walk, those sashaying hips… she was practically oozing sex out of every pore.
I couldn’t stand it a moment longer. I fled.
"You look like you’ve been through three rounds with a wyvern," announced Hawke as she pulled up a chair.
"I had to stop a riot this morning. Big battle between the Carta and the Coterie in Lowtown," the redhead replied, answering the unspoken question.
"Is Isabela around? I thought I was supposed to meet you all for lunch here," Hawke asked.
"She was here a moment ago. Do you suppose she went to the privy?" suggested Merrill.
"Well, I hope she’s back soon. I can just order for her," reasoned Hawke.
Anonymous: I am jealous of your lovely breasts as l have a couple of more years to pray for more bounce what is your secret of such beauty
The first and foremost piece of advice I have to give is this - make sure you eat enough. The girls are the first thing most women lose when they start to lose weight, so make sure you eat. Rigorous dieting and exercise will shrink your tunic tuckers as you shed the fat.
Aside from that, use underclothing to push the girls together. They don’t need to be enormous to grab attention, but raising them makes them look bigger and more attractive. Squeezing them together will enhance your cleavage, which draws the eye. Many potential suitors are far more attracted by the sight of cleavage than the girls themselves, and the sight of cleavage from two breasts smooshed together will bypass direct questions of size. And if you’re still in need of additional padding, you can always put on a second brassiere.
A third option is to use some makeup for a hidden boost. If you wear something with a low neckline, you can use makeup to provide a bit of extra emphasis along the lines of your breasts, similar to what many women do for their cheeks. Use a dark powder near the chest to make it look like it’s receded, then use something bright, even shimmery on the parts you want to stand out and seem closer. The illusion makes your gown-globes look fuller and rounder, even if they aren’t so much in reality. I’m not the best with the makeup, so you’d be better off consulting the most prissy woman you know for assistance in this - just make sure that the coloration isn’t too far off.
But last, and most importantly, a great-looking set of breasts comes from your posture. You need to stand properly, with your back slightly arched even, to really show them off. If you don’t stand up straight or hunch, you’ll end up forcing gravity to make them look small and saggy. Stand up straight! Keep the shoulders back! And be confident. A confident woman naturally looks more attractive. You need to project that you like the way you look. If you like the way you look, others will as well. If you don’t, they’ll tend to agree. After all, if you don’t like the way you look, why should they?
"You expect me to sleep over while I’m on this ridiculous challenge?"
It had been a day since I had agreed to this ridiculous challenge. At first, it wasn’t a big deal. Breakfast, a fight or two, some shopping, tasty beverages, joking, laughing, the usual. Enjoying each others’ company.
"Why not? You’ve been sleeping over most of the nights anyway."
And then, it happened. I reached for her, and she tapped me on the nose with one finger. And then I remembered the bet. Worse yet, I remembered the stakes. And that put me in a pensive mood.
"I’ve also been having my tenders tickled on a regular basis."
We ate together, we spent the evening reading our books together, and when the sun had long set and the moon had risen, she asked me to stay as she always did.
"Are you saying you don’t think it’s worthwhile to spend time with me?"
And then she unleashed her secret weapon, the most dangerous, underhanded, vicious, twisted attack she could muster.
She gave me the puppy dog eyes.
Those gorgeous ice-blue pools of light bored holes into the depths of my being. I felt my insides clench as she looked at me, silently pleading.
I knew when I was beaten.
"Come on, it’s getting late and you need to rest anyway. Do you really want to walk all the way back?”
Despite the fact I knew her victory was assured, I didn’t want to make it too easy. I was still ready to make her work for it.
Not quite yet. She was smiling, and knew she had me on the line. It was just a matter of reeling me in.
"I’ve got a bottle of that Nevarran Ice Wine you like."
She knows I love the stuff. It comes with a weak frost rune in the bottom of the barrel, which keeps it chilled. I like how it tingles on my tongue.
I still held out for more. I knew I could get it.
"And a hot bath."
Hawke’s bath is a thing of beauty. If you didn’t know, she spent hundreds, maybe even thousands of sovereigns on it. She had the entire thing carved from volcanic rock, with fire runes embedded in it for heating and water directly from the manor’s well. The tub was so enormous that you could nearly swim in it.
I reluctantly acquiesced to her demand. And we did all those things, and it was wonderful. I had been pampered, humored, and gotten exactly what I had wanted.
But I had a realization that night, while I lay in bed with her gently, quietly sleeping next to me. Her soft breath tickled my neck, and her warm arms and legs entwined with mine. It wasn’t that I disliked the content - far from it. My body craved more contact, more touching. The terms of our contest kept hammering in my head, like a stone golem at the forge.
As sleep retreated further from me with each touch, smell, and sound, I could only think of one thing.
"I’ve made a huge mistake."
"A bard, you say?" asked Bethany, resting her chin in one palm while she reached for a second cookie. "What would a bard want with cinnamon?”
"Ahh, Sweetness, but he didn’t want the cinnamon. What he wanted was your sister,” I said.
"You see, Sunshine, the bard - a fellow by the name of Alphonse had been sent by parties unknown to find the Champion of Kirkwall and ingratiate himself to her. The world was watching after the incident with the Arishok, and there was a rumor that Hawke had been hanging around with certain unsavory elements who weren’t exactly friendly to the Orlesian crown."
"I wonder who they could possibly have been worried about?" I asked rhetorically.
"How many Orlesian treasure ships have you sacked, Isabela?” asked Bethany.
"Not that many,” I answered defensively.
"In any case," Varric continued, "Alphonse was there to find and befriend Hawke. Barring that, I assume he was to kill her."
"Whoever sent him clearly doesn’t know her like we do."
"You should have seen the look on his face. He was all dressed up in fine clothes, looking like a strutting rooster, trying to make a grand entrance, and Hawke just shoved him aside without a second look because she needed that bag of cinnamon. He turned redder than Aveline’s hair," said Varric, chuckling.
"Which caused this commotion. You see, after she pushed him aside, he simply tried harder. He called out to her, tried to introduce himself. And in doing so, Two-Hit Hans heard him," I added.
"That’s when Hans yells ‘Oh shit, it’s her!!’ and starts to hightail it as fast as his legs could carry him. Now Hawke… Hawke still needs that cinnamon, so what do you think she did next?"
"Knowing my sister, she’d try to run down the fleeing dwarf," reasoned Bethany.
"Exactly," I said. "She immediately gave chase, which left Alphonse in the dirt. He immediately switched to his contingency plan, which was to stage a ‘rescue’ to try to get her attention."
"She always did like helping those in distress," Bethany agreed.
"Alphonse had anonymously hired a group of the Coterie to present an interesting target for Hawke as a backup plan. It probably would have worked, except for one thing that the bard hadn’t accounted for - Two-Hit Hans," said Varric.
"What do you mean?" asked the mage.
"What Varric means is that the week before, there had been a bit of a misunderstanding down at the docks. You see, Sweetness, there had been a shipment of valuable spices that was smuggled into port down at the docks, and it was discovered and robbed by the Coterie, along with some other normally-valuable cargo. But the actual intended recipients of those spices were the Carta, and they were none too pleased that their goods had been nicked by the thieves."
"Believe me, dwarves and ships don’t mix," added Varric with a shrug.
"So at the time, Hawke and I were almost immediately drawn into the fight with the Coterie. She did it for the usual reasons- " I paused to roll my eyes, "but I had some skin in the game too, and it was attached to her ass. So I helped."
"It seemed to be your usual street brawl. The kind that we get every so often. But this one was a little funny, because it didn’t take long for Hans to reappear, this time bringing a gang of his Carta underlings with him."
"Wait just a moment," Bethany said.
Varric paused and glanced from the young mage to me, and back again.
"Are you trying to tell me that this group of circumstances led to a massive three-way brawl on the street in broad daylight between my sister, the Coterie, and the Carta?” she demanded.
I laughed as Varric continued.
"Wait till you hear the part about the abomination, Sunshine."
"You’re on. One week without," she said.
"Yes, Isabela. An entire week.”
"And when it’s over, anything I want?”
"Yes, I promise. Anything. On one condition."
"No cheating. At all."
"I know you. If you want to win, you will keep it as pure as Sebastian."
"No cheating. No pictures. No books. No watching. No touching. No stories. Nobody. Not even you. Clean.”
"And if I lose?"
"Then I get one thing I want.”
"And that is?"
She whispered in my ear, her warm breath and soft lips tickling me. Any other time and I would have shivered in delight. Instead, my heart sank and I felt nothing but a heaviness in my lower belly.
"Nothing else?" I pleaded.
She looked at me with a wicked grin.
I looked from my open palms to her and back. Her jaw was set, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to convince her otherwise.
She licked her lips, running her pink tongue over them slowly.
"Done," I said, spitting on my palm and extending my hand.
She spat in her own and shook my hand firmly.
"When does it start?" I asked, as she began gently rubbing my shoulders. I wondered whether I had the time to sneak one more in.
"It starts now," she said as she began squeezing harder.
It’s going to be a long week.
"Sunshine, it’s so good to see you again!" exclaimed Varric as he clasped her dainty hands in his own.
Bethany smiled, greeting us and ushering us into her small bedroom inside the Gallows.
"Isabela! Varric! Thank you for visiting me! Is my sister with you?"
"She said she had some business to take care of. She’ll be along shortly," I said.
I pressed a small wicker basket into her hands after my companion released them.
"A few treats from your sister and me, Sweetness," I added with a grin.
"Oh, cookies!" she declared, taking a bite of one.
"I do adore sister’s cookies," she confessed.
"I put in goodies of another fashion underneath," I added.
She glanced beneath the cookies and reddened.
"Er… thank you, Isabela," she said. Then she brightened.
"So, tell em all about your latest adventures. What sort of trouble has my sister gotten you into since your last visit?"
"Well, Sweetness, I accompanied her to the bazaar yesterday to do some shopping. You know, ingredients for the sweets I just brought you," I said.
"But then, wouldn’t you know it, the spice seller had run out of cinnamon," Varric interjected.
I glanced at Varric, and he nodded.
"Right. And your sister knows how much you love those cinnamon cookies, so she began asking around for anyone who might have some cinnamon. We must have visited every stall at the bazaar," I said.
"Then, at the last stall, she asks the merchant about getting some cinnamon. The vendor says ‘oh I’m sorry, I just sold the last of my cinnamon to that dwarf over there’ and he points at this heavily armored, heavily armed dwarf walking away from us," continued Varric.
"Oh, yes. Even I recognized him. Two-Hit Hans, one of the Carta’s most brutal enforcers,” I said.
"They say that with Hans, it’s always just two hits - he hits you, then you hit the floor. He had the last of the cinnamon," agreed Varric.
Bethany raised an eyebrow.
"The Carta needed cinnamon?” she asked.
"What can I say? Dwarves like cinnamon," answered Varric with a shrug.
"So there we were, with the only cinnamon in the marketplace held by the nastiest crime syndicate in the city. We couldn’t just ask him for it either, not with Hawke right there," I added.
"Why not?" she asked.
"Because, Sunshine, the Carta hates your sister with a passion for the things she did to them. Remember that whole thing in the Vimmark Mountains? That whole story about the blood of the Hawke?"
"Are they still holding a grudge about that?" she said, pursing her lips.
"She did kill a few dozen of them," I said with a shrug. "I know, I helped."
Bethany took another bite of her cookie.
"Well… I taste the cinnamon, so you obviously got it somehow. What happened next?" she asked after chewing.
"Well… it’s a bit of a funny story. You see, Sunshine, there was this bard…" began Varric.
(to be continued)