#xbastion

The events of the night all blurred together as he knelt beside Bastion. They had been having a decent time, drinking and avoiding the rest of the world together. Though they didn’t talk much, there was still a sense of camaraderie between the two as they drank from their individual glasses. For a moment, Eugene might even say he was happy.

And then that moment ended.

He knew from experience that stabs to the stomach were painful. He also knew that one as deep as this was not likely to be recovered from. Still, he wasn’t about to give up without a fair fight. “Hey, come on, you’re gonna be fine,” he says, the palm of his hand pressing firmly into the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. “It’s just a scratch.” Despite his attempt at calming words, his eyes remained wide and his voice wavered every so often.

“Maldito bastardo, don’t give up yet.” Yet even as he spoke, he could feel the other growing weaker beneath his hands and watched the light slowly fade from his eyes.

Tell me why you love the Muse or the Mun.

“Don’t tease I’m being serious here.”

THE PRINCESS BRIDE」. ( accepting )

“Yes.”

Ages ago, she had the courage and will to explain why – to breathe down his neck her pristine research on the incontestable truths of love until he was bound to her, until they shared some common thought that could, for once, not cleave them farther apart. But Adella was terribly exhausted, so much so that she quivered beneath the warm pads of his fingers, pursing her pout against the thumb that stroked her bottom lip. Fatigue had overwhelmed that single word, and the very last fragments of her old zeal for romance had finally been used. She managed only a series of sweet sighs after that, so light that the one in particular begging for a kiss could just barely be heard.

It happened every day because she felt it every day, sometimes in excruciating pulses and sometimes as tenderly as the summer wind upon her cheek. It happened now, as she lay sprawled beneath a cape of tree shadow with him looming over. 

Send ‘a moment of weakness’ and the generated outcome will be used for a small drabble scenario or starter . 

My muse has suddenly sprained an ankle and can’t walk.

She just haaaad to wear those too-big-for-her shoes, the ones so difficult to craft that having the right size would take too long before she could parade the streets and have every Coronian and their great ancestors be paralyzed by her beauty. She just had to purchase them, jewel embellishments and ribbons and all, and hobble the cobblestone paths with her chin elevated high and her ego elevated even higher. All of it spelled a recipe for the inevitable–but that she’d bump into Bastion (of all people!) while on her unfortunate trip to the ground was the least expected event of the day. Perhaps the whole year. 

                       “Leave me alone !! I can walk back! Your hands are–is that dirt? Is that DIRT?” She attempted to pry his fingers off her waist to no effect. Apparently, the man only ever refused her requests when her ankles were in jeopardy. But, to be fair, she did make quite a scene – crying, wailing, with no idea of the impropriety involved in showcasing her pink, sore ankles, and bloomers, for all to see.