Bad Things Happen Bingo
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“Oh, shit,” Noct says, eyes wide, staring not at Prompto’s face but further down. Confused, Prompto follows his gaze. His side’s a mess of blood, ruining his shirt and on its way to ruining his pants as well. There’s blood leaking from his shoulder, too, sticky and warm and dripping down his arm. It makes his hands slippery and he can’t keep a hold of his gun. Or maybe that’s just the numbness he feels spreading through him, adrenaline fading away. Either way, the gun drops from his hand and disappears into the Armiger.
“Oh,” Prompto says, breathless, because he’s been shot. When he sags forward, Noct barely has enough time to catch him.
Bad Things Happen Bingo: Doesn't Realize They've Been Injured
Series
- Part 1 of Bad Things Happen Bingo
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“Oh, shit,” he hears Noct say from beside him. Specks of blood glisten red in the afternoon sunlight, painting the dirt and grass. He can feel more dripping from the corner of his mouth.
Bad Things Happen Bingo: Coughing Up Blood
Series
- Part 2 of Bad Things Happen Bingo
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“Prompto?” He reaches out to brush his fingers against Prompto’s ghostly-white cheek. It’s like touching a block of ice, and Gladio yanks his hand away at the shock of it. But Prompto still doesn’t respond, and he’s breathing slow and shallow, chest barely moving, and he’s not shivering at all anymore despite how cold he clearly is. It takes all of two seconds for the realization to hit.
Bad Things Happen Bingo: Shaking & Shivering
Series
- Part 3 of Bad Things Happen Bingo
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“Hey, kid,” says a voice from behind him.
Prompto turns, slowly, to face the two men. The one in the red hoodie is leaning against the wall, hands stuffed into his pocket. The other one looks him up and down. “Can I help you?” Prompto asks, cringing at the nerves obvious in his voice.
“Yeah,” the one in the red hoodie says casually. “Give us your backpack, huh?”
“C’mon, can’t we work this out?” Prompto asks, putting his hands up placatingly and trying for a wobbly smile.
The guy in the red hoodie raises an eyebrow, then pulls one of his hands from his pocket. Prompto’s stomach clenches with anxiety when he realizes the man’s brandishing a switchblade, waving it in Prompto’s direction. “Wasn’t really askin’, kid.”
Bad Things Happen Bingo: Mugging
Series
- Part 4 of Bad Things Happen Bingo
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He’s a liability, they say. They just want to see him hurt, they say. It’s for the best, they say. And Prompto gets it — really. He’s not even close to being on par with the rest of them. They’re stronger, smarter, better. He’s barely scraping by on a few months of unofficial Crownsguard training. He causes more trouble than he’s worth and goes through curatives faster than they can get the money to replenish them.
So he gets it — but that doesn’t really make it hurt any less.
The next morning, when they set out from Lestallum, Prompto remains behind.
Bad Things Happen Bingo: Parting Words Regret
Series
- Part 5 of Bad Things Happen Bingo
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Gladio is limp and unmoving. “Gladio,” Noct croaks, barely able to breath from both the weight pinning him down and the shock of the situation. There’s no response, and Noct feels something warm and sticky dripping down onto him. “Gladio.”
Bad Things Happen Bingo: Cradling Someone in Their Arms
Series
- Part 6 of Bad Things Happen Bingo