BURY YOUR HEAD.

warstep:

unwaken:

warstep:

unwaken:

hey can i get seven large cokes and a bbq sauce / @warstep

is pepsi okay

“i guess” i said sulking, my amber hued orbs peering down because of gravity 

`okay.’ i hand you seven large cokes and a pepsi.

    “hey guys what’s going on in this thread?”

warstep:

unwaken:

warstep:

unwaken:

hey can i get seven large cokes and a bbq sauce / @warstep

is pepsi okay

“i guess” i said sulking, my amber hued orbs peering down because of gravity 

`okay.’ i hand you seven large cokes and a pepsi.

    “hey guys what’s going on in this thread?”

@ascensionem.

There is an air of quietude that caresses their surroundings, gentle air, gentle voice, gentle smile – how truly innocent this all proves. It started with an insignificant hum that was brought about in a place of nervous silence, a harbinger of peace, a way to connect the worlds of nervous silence & content assurance. Though as he’d begun, he supposed he could not stop, hardly even thinking of where his voice would carry. It was a song he knows well, one well-practiced & sounded only in the presence of no one. 

It’s unusual that he’d allow these words to soar in the presence of anyone aside himself, yet he hardly thinks of it; it does not register. He’s become so comfortable alongside Noct, he almost cares not if he’d heard ( yet somewhere, he hopes he’d heard ). When he finishes, hands laid on his knees from a previous beat made in noiselessness, a cold chill washes over him. Perhaps just a gust of wind beneath this starry night, perhaps the uncertainty that comes with sharing a piece of himself never gifted to another, to feeling exposed, even if it’s just inside his mind. 

There’s a moment where no words are exchanged, where Prompto’s lip is tugged beneath his teeth & his hands know not of where to go; please, say something. He’d think, but never say. & yet, as if the Six had heard his cries, he’d been granted a single word response. Such was all it took to push a sigh of relief from his lungs ( accidentally, yes, & he hopes in speechlessness that Noctis would question it not ) as he smiles however daintily. A bashful grin, pink laid dusted across his freckled cheeks & he can feel the appreciative embarrassment sneak its way to the tips of his ears. 

A soft chuckle sounds from his lips, content, yet slightly flustered. 

Injured

“Oh shit, are you alright?”

“Dude, I don’t think you’re alright.”

“Blood’s not supposed to be coming from there…”

“That looks broken.”

“Can you move your __?” 

“Are you okay?”

“That doesn’t look good.”

“Who did this?”

“Did you do this to yourself?”

“How did this happen?”

“We need to get you to a hospital.”

“Do you need to go to a hospital?”

“That’s not supposed to bend that way.”

“Do you want me to look at it?”

“Don’t move, you’ll make it worse!”

“Stop moving!”

“There’s so much blood.”

“I’ll see if I have a first aid kit.”

“Just… Stay here and I’ll get help.”

“How did you even do this?”

“This happened in a fight?”

“Walk it off.”

“It’s not that bad.” 

“I think you need stitches.”

“You dumbass.” 

Injury

“I think I hurt myself.”

“I can’t feel my __.”

“I think my __ is broken.”

“Shit, that hurts to move.”

“I don’t think I can get up.”

“I’m going to try to get up.”

“Can you go get help?” 

“I need help.”

“I think I’m going to pass out.”

“I don’t think there’s supposed to be that much blood.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I got [shot, stabbed, etc].”

“I can’t walk.”

“I don’t think I need to go to a hospital.”

“I think I need to go to the hospital.”

“Stop laughing, this hurts.”

“My last words better not be stupid.”

“That was a dumb idea.”

“Shit, that burns.”

“I’m fine… really.”

“Damn, I can’t get the bleeding to stop.”

“I got into a fight…”

“I feel lightheaded.”

“It hurts to move.”

Nyx: “Is that the way of our King? Sacrifice Lucian sons to save his own?” 

Lunafreya: “To save the world.”