❝ silver lining .

❝All in bullet-time, baby !❞ ✰ ind. prompto argentum of FF XV please read rules before interaction ! written by: amy !

[argentlined-ii]

i know i’m a thousand years late, but I’ve actually remade Prompto over here if anyone is still interested !

[wiredcore-blog]

@argentlined is such a bomb ass prompto i would die for her

[argentlined-ii]

@artisaen

                          “ Whoaa, so you’re like... the real deal ?

                                                    No funny business ? ”

To cast eyes of sky’s reflection upon one of such prestige, it is supposed that he would offer a manner of etiquette, yet still he stands, aghast, & unsure of how to proceed his current situation.

[ezombieart]

so, uh..this is canon right

[argentlined-ii]

selective short starter call !

[argentlined-ii]

                                                                      @starlitvcins

               words get stuck in his throat, tangling until he doesn’t know what to say. he felt like he was losing a battle he didn’t know he was fighting. unable to break the hold that this place had put on prompto, he’s so quiet —— too quiet. he falters in every move. did he leave him be? let him breathe. did he offer him comfort; a hug, a touch of the arm, words of reassurance? he had never felt so powerless. even against the astrals, the empire. ardyn. how did he fix what had been broken? prompto had always been so vividly alive. vibrant. the sun to brighten up his darkest of days. though others might say that prompto followed him, he was the one who orbited prompto. he had saved noct so many times from that feeling of helplessness that had consumed him as a child ( even now he felt helpless, more helpless than ever before ). lack of control of his life left him reaching for more, aching to feel as if his life meant more than prince, son of lucis. chosen. and prompto had given him that. he had fallen into his life like a shooting star dropping from the curtain of darkness that descended each night, the inky black flecked by stars that had never shone as bright as the one sitting beside him. 

               knees raise to his chest, arms to rest against them as he leans forward. head ducks, and cobalt gaze is cast to the ground. he speaks, and sounds so unlike the boy he had known these past years. he had grown to recognize that voice as if it were his own. every inflection that colored his speech was known to noct. and he couldn’t believe that prompto was ok. he shouldn’t be.            ❛  yeah. it is.  ❜            selfish guilt halts his speech, lips pressed to prevent a spill that would only be for him, and not his friend. he doesn’t know what will help, but he gives what he can. he shifts, enough so that his side is firmly pressed against prompto’s, and turns his midnight gaze to his friend. 

               ❛  prompto, you know i’m here for you —— right ?  ❜               all he wanted was to change what had happened. he had failed prompto. had given him reason to doubt his friendship. lip catches between teeth, and voice drops to a murmur as he watches prompto, unable to pull his gaze from him. he had agonized over it for so long that he couldn’t control himself.

                ❛  and i’m not going anywhere.  ❜

                                               “ I-- Y-- Yeah... ”

SO UNHOLY is the air so tainted with his of foul mistruth. There is not a bone in his body that aches to scream ‘ HE IS HERE FOR YOU. ’ He is riddled with emptiness, held captive by the solitude that reminds him of how alone he truly is, how EMPTY he truly is, & the hurt he has dealt for years, years, years. There is no escape, always slipping, falling from the grip he places against the red soles of his boots, the gloves that brace his hand & shield him from which he cannot run, to shield him from that of what he is, not who. Yet, still, he sits here in this melancholic darkness mixed with awkward fingers trembling & hearts so closely foreign & he feels the fear that parades his lungs; it’s hard to breathe.

He sucks in a plentiful breath & he sighs, as if to relieve himself of the stress that strikes like the venom of worldly creatures. He knows no definition of comfort, & he cannot find it, no matter how hard he would strive. Fingers are still tugging against faux leather, ankles crossed with the heel of one sole rubbing against another boot’s top & he hardly realized how truly anxious he does appear. He speaks, so unaware, the language of silence.

Diamonds that sparkle in the reflection of moon’s lightened reflection find difficulty in the search for placement. Blue as the sky that has been broken by darkness, irises wander before happening across the expanse of the ocean’s depth, bound into such close quarters of the waves that are a hurricane, swirling into noctis’s pupil, so abysmal. He finds such honesty there, such care in which he’s found not elsewhere, the very guiding light that shines his path of wandering & gives him a promised direction. His heart aches at the very thought of his loss & paranoia would prove itself more of a warning to be heeded, than a feeling to be repressed.

                                             “ It’s just ... ! ”

& he smiles, shaking his head in bitter resentment of himself.

                        “ Well... nevermind. But... Thanks, Noct. I really mean it. ”

[fyp-psychology]

The funny thing about introverts is once they feel comfortable with you, they can be the funniest, most enjoyable people to be around. It’s like a secret they feel comfortable sharing with you. Except the secret is their personality.

Unknown (via fyp-psychology)

[argentlined-ii]

REVAMP NOTICE

hey guyys i know i haven’t been here but some reason my anxiety spikes like crazy when i’ve logged into here lately... BUT because of that im just gonna be clearing all drafts and my asks. If you would REALLY like to keep our thread feel free to message me or smth but tbh i’m like rlly tired so if ur gonna be upset you should just ... unfollow... softblock.. whatever suits your fancy! so i’ll beeee starting over here and probably hoping to just catch a slower dash and keep things to a minimum !

[argentlined-ii]

another heads up that i have another main blog who has been aching for my attention lately,,

[argentlined-ii]

‘ here. ‘ he holds out the small chocobo phone charm, dangling in the space between them. voice is firm despite the rapid beat of the heart in his chest, one hand rubbing at his neck nervously. he’s never given someone a gift on valentine's before ( no one has ever made him feel the way that prompto has ). ‘ i would have gotten you a heart, but...... you already have mine. ‘ cheeks heat as he places the charm and a single hershey’s kiss in the palm of his hand.

@lastlucis

                                                    “ Huh – ? ”

Surprise would curve about his expression, forming it from the root in which it stems from & he’d turn, a curiosity blossoming from the act so entirely unexpected. Though, to see Noctis standing before him would add reassurance to whatever anxiety had become of an act so unpredictable. First would throat hitch, a light gasp ( so quiet, yet still slightly audible ) & as he catches control of his voice, he’d lose the control about heart’s pulse & face’s flush. Pink shining in a lacking transparency, clashing with the sprinkled freckles that decorate his complexion along with his emotion ( so clear, so completely obvious ). 

He is still startled, eyes wide with astonishment met with gratitude. Brilliant diamonds shine through his irises & he cannot help but offer a smile so bashful in its presentation. Charm is taken & held between his fingers, toyed with as he passes it from one hand to another, observing it against his line of sight & enjoying both the sentiment & gift itself. Noct knows him so well.

With next words does heart flutter, yet, he laughs. A radiant bubbling that chuckles from his throat would meet ways with the air so captivated by such romantic tension. He giggles at Noctis’s very attempt at offering any display of actual affection & he finds it endearing. Hand reaches out to shove his shoulder, still unable to refrain from his lighthearted laughter.

                                “ C’mon, Noct… That was totally lame ! ”

& still, fingers shake as he lifts another’s hand, intertwining their half gloved fingers as he lifts both their hands to his face, if only to place such apprehensive lips against Noct’s knuckles before shying away, still smiling, as gaze averts to the ceiling, the tent nearby, the ground beneath them. He could not bear to look him in the eyes, no, not quite yet.

                                   “ But, uh.. y–y’know… Thanks… Noct. 

                                                                I… I really dig it. ”

[argentlined-ii]

ofhammerhead:

     ❛     I got ya a lil’ somethin’… ya know !! As a especial thanks for all the help ya’ve been givin’ me at the garage these days.     ❜     she GRINS, handing the hunter the bag with her PRESENT inside.

                        “ You... w--wait up... You got me something ? Really ? ”

& to expect the unexpected, he’d fail firsthand. 

[argentlined-ii]

lays down on prompto with a content sigh

@lastlucis

                                               “ Duude… ”

CONTENTMENT – surely, contentment had met his composure, & he’d smile ( albeit nervously ) as fingers would run themselves through strands of brilliant & standing gold. Soon, soon, do they find themselves nearing the shoulder of another, but he pauses. Hesitation overtakes him & he grows silent. To protest as he had ( however only a jest, met with no truth of the matter ), he would no longer. Something strange caught at his throat as Noctis would find himself comforted by Prompto’s own presence, soft ebon hair brushing against his freckled flesh. He would not allow himself to wrap his fingers about his face, not even his shoulder – not now ( despite the usual circumstance in which he would ). For right now, there is an inexplicable shyness that has become his shaky fingertips. So, instead, he leans backward, finding a comfort of his own as he allows Noct a napping place.

                                            “ You comfy ? ”

[supcrnovae]

Halsey (Room 93) - Starter Sentences

Is There Somewhere?

❝ You were dancing in your tube socks in our hotel room. ❞

❝ I just wanna feel your lips against my skin. ❞

❝ You told me this is right where it begins. ❞

❝ I promised myself I wouldn’t let you complete me. ❞

❝ I’m trying not to let it show, that I don’t want to let this go. ❞

❝ Is there somewhere you can meet me? ❞

❝ All I do is cry and complain because second’s not the same. ❞

❝ I’m sorry but I fell in love tonight. ❞

❝ Could we pretend that we’re in love? ❞

Ghost

❝ I’m searching for something that I can’t reach. ❞

❝ I like the sad eyes, bad guys, mouth full of white lies. ❞

❝ I swear I hate you when you leave but I like it anyway. ❞

❝ What happened to the soul that you used to be? ❞

❝ Saying that I love him but I know I’m gonna leave him. ❞

Hurricane

❝ He’s got an eye for girls of eighteen, and he turns them out like tricks. ❞

❝ I let him climb inside my body and held him captive in my kiss. ❞

❝ There’s a storm you’re starting now. ❞

❝ I’m a wanderess, I’m a one night stand. Don’t belong to no city, don’t belong to no man. ❞

❝ I’m a hurricane. ❞

❝ And I found myself reminded to keep you far away from me. ❞

❝ Oh, maybe, you could devastate me. ❞

Empty Gold

❝ I must confess how hard I tried to breathe through the trees of loneliness. ❞

❝ Feels like we’ve been falling down like these autumn leaves. ❞

❝ Baby don’t let winter come, don’t let our hearts freeze. ❞

❝ We’re the underdogs in this world alone. ❞

❝ I’m a believer, got a fever running through my bones. ❞

❝ We’re the alley cats and they can throw their stones. They can break our hearts, they won’t take our souls. ❞

Trouble

❝ Would you bleed for me? ❞

❝ You look so cool when you’re reading me. ❞

❝ Let’s cause a little trouble. ❞

❝ Oh, you make me feel so weak. ❞

❝ Can you see his silhouette? ❞

❝ Go on and light a cigarette, set a fire in my head. ❞

❝ Would you lie for me? Cross your sorry heart and hope to die for me? ❞

❝ Don’t forget me, don’t forget me. ❞

❝ I wouldn’t leave you if you’d let me. ❞

[argentlined-ii]

[argentlined-ii]

lastlucis:

                it is only when the quiet settles in, each of them lost in their own respective thoughts that noct allows himself to replay it over in his mind; prompto, locked into a machine that he feared the effects of, and hurting. jaw clenches, teeth grinding together, and pressure builds in his ears. he had brought them to this moment. he had put prompto in the machine by his inability to see past an illusion. pain blossoms in his chest once again, as it had done before. like a pulse, it flared unexpectedly, nearly crippling him. though the ring of lucii weighed heavy on his hand, it was the knowledge that he had hurt prompto that suffocated him. he can still hear him, pleading, begging while he chased him on the train. can still see the look on his face when he pushed him off. eyes close as the memory steals his breath, fists clenching in his lap. he’ll never forget what he’d done. never forget the feeling of losing his friend at his own hands. anger bites just as deep at his inablility to protect the people he loved. he looks up, eyes seeking out prompto, and exhales at the sight of his friends ragged state.

                                                                               ( he won’t ever forgive himself )

                though the room is small, he feels as if he’s miles from prompto. the space between them stretches and his chest tightens, like the fist of an iron giant trying to crush him. it’s irrational, yet all he wants is to be near prompto, to reassure himself that this was real. he moves from his place, and takes the few steps to prompto’s side, and sinks into the empty spot beside him. relief ripples across his skin

                ❛  hey.  ❜          he leans over, bumping prompto’s shoulder softly, swallowing the nerves that had bundled in his throat.            ❛  how you holdin’ up?  ❜          casual words belie the tremor in his hands that he couldn’t quite dispel. he had kept up appearances, had contained the worst of his concern. but it did nothing to relieve the tension in his shoulders. all he wanted was out of this keep. out and with all of them safe.

@argentlined

HERE LIES the very unsettling edge that still flows through his veins. Throat parched with a nervous paranoia -- ah, how the symptoms of past torture would follow in his shadow, even after his ‘ escape. ‘ He thinks in a surrounding silence, alone, gripping at his fingers, teeth pulling at the insides of his lips. Stop thinking about it, he’d warn himself, yet no amount of caution could cure him of these ailments in his mind. He holds his wrist, one marked with who he is, what he is, & he remembers when it happened, he remembers how it felt. The harsh prodding of inked & uninked needles, all dull as they pull at his flesh, bruised & aching, stinging, pained. He will not forget all of which he has not repressed, he will not forget that of which he’s been reminded in the weeks so closely previous to present. Always, will he remember the very fear that he found out,that he hated him, that he was not coming. A damsel in distress, how pathetically fitting for one who cannot even bear a sword upright. One who wields the very essence of escape & surrender. 

He is quiet, lost, thoughts pulling beneath the ocean’s depths & suffocating him as they flood his lungs. He’s drowning in these thoughts, & just before he gives, just before same water would protrude from vision, there is a split in the atmosphere, a voice that has given him room to breathe. ‘ hey ‘ -- it’s him. Please, he’d urge himself to clear the chaos in his throat & speak as if all is well, as if it was & as if it always will be. 

                                         “ Y’know... just... holdin’. ”

He cannot lie to him, for as many sins as he already holds, this just might break him. Already crucified for his very existence -- how deserving he thinks he is, yet still it is so unfair. He yearns for a reminder that he is still alive, that he still has someone, that he is not ALONE AGAIN. Please, please, he’d plead & beg: do not leave him alone.

                                      “ It’s... a lot to handle, I guess... ”

How selfish.

[argentlined-ii]

ofhammerhead:

     ❛     HEY, Prompto? Ya’ve got a minute? I’d like t’give ya a word on something VERY important.     ❜     the head mechanic SMILES as she inches closer the blonde, a plastic OLD being held by her right hand.

@argentlined ⚙

A curiosity laced with only the slightest of suspicions would possess his language & so, he’d speak.

                             “ Yep, totally free ! So, uhh... what’s.. up ? ”

[argentlined-ii]

❛ i’m always tired, but never of you. ❜

@lastlucis

The element of surprise wears obvious, now, against his features. An atmosphere calm with a heavy melancholy that sits aside them, as if its own presence of a person. Yet, still, they are alone, & received reassurance would bring utmost gratitude upon his sinking chest. To become exposed, to admit another the very trials of overcoming the disaster that is himself, he breathes. 

Some part of him questions the honesty that falls from another’s tongue & yet another would grasp at any hint of belief, even if faulty, of which he could wrap his hands about & claim his own. How selfish, truly. The art of opening yourself for another to witness, even in your most vulnerable of states, & yearning for the approval, the very existence of acceptance; he thinks to himself: is this self-gain all there is to it ? Yet, he wars with himself, an endless battle of right & wrong, the strongest debate against own morality. This is what ‘ real friends ‘ do – he is a real friend, is he not ? The first, & sole reason for the mere existence of companionship met with the solitudal despair of ever-lingering loneliness. 

He sits with legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, as the soles at his heels dig into the ground beneath them. He lets a silence become the air, giving room to think, to bask in the realization that perhaps he’s right. For one who has always been deemed so ‘ tiresome ‘ so active, so energetic… he understands another’s will to set themselves aside from his constant inability to remain at a comfortable stand still. Even himself, who is the creator of such a ‘ burden ‘ upon another’s nerves of frustration, would then feel the reflection of these moods upon own existence. How is not to tire another, when even, he, sometimes, would tire of himself ? 

Laughter, however light, would flutter from his lungs & lift such tension from the air. It is filled with nervousness & drowned in a lingering anxiety which pulls at his stomach. Frightened is he of the judgement of others. 

                       “ You, uh… Really ? Never ? Like… not even once ? ”