BANG BANG ! ☆

[vultureshot]

PROMPTO HAS MOVED.

[vultureshot]

DAVINA. did i log in solely to murder my muse? why, yes. yes i did.

[vultureshot]

antimundi.

Placing Nyx to rest in the alley, Noctis remained the face of a stone-cold calm as he genuflected so she’d have someone to lean against. Though his heart pounded from the adrenaline, there had been countless times before when they’d faced an entire army as opposed to just one assailant. They’d been too open, and he knew that was on him. Especially considering it had been his fault at the room of it all, and he knew this. “Alright, Nyxie, this is gonna hurt but I need you to be kinda still,” Noctis murmured soothingly as he found a deep puddle of muddy water, but–it would have to do. Using the enchanting prowess native to the Caelum line, the water boiled as if it had been superheated within a moment as magic purified it and burned away the sediments that had been lingering within. Knowing that Prompto was on their tail, he had to act fast before Nyx bled out too much. 

Cupping his hands in the rippling mere of water, he poured it upon her flesh where it steamed intensely upon contact as though metal being quenched in water by a blacksmith. He kept her steady, pouring over it on the entirety of the wound and letting it stitch her flesh closed. Though it wouldn’t be a total healing, it might be enough to at least heal her until they were far from danger. 

Shame his thirst for vengeance and the blood of a betrayer overwhelmed over any want to retreat to safety. Not when Prompto could put people in danger by being free, bleeding out or no. “You don’t get to make that choice, Prompto! You lost that the second you betrayed me–betrayed Lucis!” he roared towards the emergent blond, the crystalline shatter of his Armiger summoning with it the Bow of the Clever. 

Loading a bolt within its crosshairs, he aimed it towards Prompto with deadly accuracy, towards his gut where he wanted the damage inflicted before to truly tear him apart and potentially in half. First betrayal, then almost killing his wife–this bastard didn’t deserve to live. There was a vibrant rush of air as it careened towards Prompto faster than the eye could perceive, standing protectively over Nyx with a predatory keen and protectiveness.

     The blond’s lip curls as Noctis stands, answers him, acts as if he’s the traitor here. His gaze falls back to Nyx, leaning against the filthy wall, still pale but no longer bleeding. She’s staring right back at him, and he feels a small twinge of regret from the look she sends him. There’s pity in her eyes, and he can’t help but think back to all the good times he had with her and the other Glaives. They were some of very few who accepted him without much thought; they were foreigners here, too. She’d helped train him, helped him get through life in a country that hated him.

     But he couldn’t ever go back to those times. The past was the past, and the wool wasn’t over his eyes any longer. The crystalline shimmer of Noctis summoning the Armiger brings his attention back to the present, and Prompto freezes as he recognizes the weapon he chooses. He knew he wasn’t going to get out of Insomnia alive, that tonight would be his last alive, and he’d accepted his death before he even made it to the gates. Still, as the bolt is aimed at him, he almost started begging for his life.

     How strange it was, he thought as the bolt lodged in his stomach, that someone who lived life by the day, always expecting something around every corner, suddenly wished with all of his being that he could change the flow of time. Dark ruby irises watch his every move, a hunter finally cornering his prey, and Prompto doesn’t hold back the airless laugh bubbling up from his chest as he falls to lean on the brick wall of the alley. Seems like he’ll be meeting Noctis’ mother soon enough, huh? Where else would someone as damned, as ruthless and blood stained, as he go but hell?

     Another laugh, and the gun finally falls from his grasp, clattering against the pavement, so he can press both hands to his abdomen. ❝I didn’t betray anyone, you fucking idiot.❞ He shakes his head, sweaty blond hair falling into his eyes. he makes no effort to push is away, to have the king in his sights again, only leaning his head back to see what he could of the stars. ❝Lucis betrayed the world when the crown let Etro in, let her corrupt everything. That’s why it’s always night in Insomnia, right?❞ He coughs, breathing heavier and harder as time wears on, as he keeps speaking. But he has so much left to say, and he finally has a chance to say it to who he wanted. ❝I dunno why I never questioned it before. It all makes so much sense now.❞

[insomniaeon]

❥ ᴇᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛᴏ : ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴇɴᴜ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

[shedrawscomics-deactivated20191]

[antimundi-blog]

pendulumcross:

here’s a image from the chapter 2 of my FFXV fanfic Pendulum. Noctis is in a bit of trouble for sure while Prompto is getting a little too into the chase XDchapter 1: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12313350/chapters/27993081 Chapter 2 should drop thursday or friday. shooting for thursday.

(MT!Prompto FTW!!)

*side note: 

I am also open for fanart commissions! This will help with sudden bills that have dropped on me.

Sketch up drawings are as said, sketches. No fine lining, color or overworking will be done on these pieces.

Price: $25USD Bust/chest-up: From head to shoulders at max

Add an additional $15USD for caricature/additional character

Price: $35USD Fullbody: From head to thigh at max

Add an additional $20USD for caricature/additional character —-

Color commissions will be done in a loose near-animated screenshot style (as seen on my tumblr page), basic backgrounds will be added to the image for effect. ​

Price: $50USD Bust/chest up: From head to shoulders at max

Add an additional $20USD for caricature/additional character

Price: $70USD Fullbody: From head to thigh at max

Add an additional $30USD for caricature/additional character

Thanks again everyone :)

[shyglaive]

[fuckyeahffboys]

Prompto (FFXV) | amouk

[vultureshot]

DAVINA. the sheer amount of spam in prom’s tag is really starting to irritate me.

[emy-san]

“You’re so naive my dear Noctis.”

Based on the original plot of Versus XIII, the betrayal of Prompto.

Ko-fi | PATREON

[vultureshot]

DAVINA. don’t spam like my posts, please. it’s really irritating, and i will block you.

[vultureshot]

antimundi.

It’d be easier to kill him. Summon the Royal Arms or some tacky spell and roast him until there was nothing but ashes left. But, what satisfaction existed in that? No, a gruesome faction of him wanted to keep his former best friend alive. Have him see the full extent of what exactly his rearing had brought. This tyrant king who brutally executed his enemies without remorse, wading through oceans of blood and proudly attributing the carnage to himself. Who had bent tradition into this misshapen spire that their dictum impaled itself upon. Lucis was no longer as it was meant to be. Regis had bastardized it forever, and under Noctis had he gathered all the death and chaos and crystallized it as it was meant to be. To Prompto, he could easily overpower the man. He could. But the life of his wife and the sweet, sadistic promise of making him pay witness to the wreckage he’d evoked on the world was far, far too promising. 

“Preaching to the choir. The hell do you think I do? Cry myself to sleep every night just because some whiny little shit like you decided that I’m suddenly the big bad? Way to wake the fuck up. You always did live up to the whole notion of dumb blondes,” Noctis taunted cruelly and with open hands, dissipating the kukris in a show of over-confidence.

“I kill, Prom. I exploit, I steal, I take, I hoard, I launder–and guess what? I love every fucking second of it. I love bastardizing things, people–I love twisting people around my finger. And I don’t feel a damn thing when they’ve realized they’ve done some fucked up shit on my behalf.”

Noctis’ smile spanned wide, and heartlessly. This was his true face. The man who propped his feet up on desks that weren’t his own, fucking the other boss’ wife (before Nyx came along), turning man against man, family against family, friend against friend–he did it so easily and enjoyed every second. Even the demonic rituals conducted far beneath the Citadel itself. Blasphemy dyed in blood that spoke to the dead, to the Reaper Mother. 

Instead, Noctis suddenly lobbed the kukris towards Nyx and gathered her in his arms, casting Fira to tear an enormous hole in the wall that blasted debris and rocked this particular sector of the immigrants’ district. Hurling the other away, they disappeared in smog and smoke.

To find temporary refuge until Noctis could face him squarely again.

     His breathing’s already becoming more labored, the blood running down his leg far too warm. Far too convincing as it whispered to him to just lay down, to sleep, he was so tired and war torn, he’d had enough. No. Shut up, shut up, shut up! He had a job to do, he couldn’t give up yet. He watched Noctis warp past him with seething eyes, the fury he’d felt, the anger and hurt, when he found out just what his ‘friend’ really was, what he planned, renewed in full. The hole suddenly blown in the wall is watched in slow motion, a silent movie in real life, but Prompto moves too late to catch them. His connection to the Crystal had long since been broken, anyway, he had no chance of following in his current state, not without some serious healing magic or medical attention.

     Instead, he hobbles down into the street, to one of the fires the homeless kept burning in barrels. Grabbing a branch, the blond presses it to the still bleeding wound; a messy, painful cauterizing job, but it stopped most of the bleeding. Externally, at least. He knew the damage was pretty deep, and the internal bleeding would most definitely kill him, but he’d survive hopefully long enough to cause a little more mayhem.

     Once the worst of the pain had faded, he’s on his feet, limping but upright, as he starts wandering through the immigrant’s sector. He knew these streets well, he spent so much time here... It couldn’t be too difficult to find one of their old haunts. Not to mention, Noctis couldn’t warp too far, not with Nyx’s wounds. She’d bleed out just as fast as he would.

     His pistol remains ready as he walks, stalking around corners carefully, looking for any fresh signs of blood- finally finding what he was looking for about two blocks away.

     Again raising his weapon, he crouches to peer around the corner of the alley, catching sight of the Galahdan woman on the ground, shivering and pale, clutching her husband’s arm. Standing again, Prompto whirls around the corner, his firearm already aimed. ❝What’s it gonna be, Noct. I know I won’t make it, but what about her?❞

[vultureshot]

antimundi.

They didn’t have time to mourn, time to linger as smoke curled over the city and the harsh blaze of sunlight reminded them that the dream had ended. Etro’s Embrace couldn’t be maintained right now; not when it was hurriedly being ferried to Ravatogh that was the agreed meeting spot once they could clear their own path. The decoy had been positioned, and it would be only hours until the Niffs came and brought law and order back into the city. Time they couldn’t afford to waste. Gladio–he’d absconded with Drautos, but not before Noctis had managed to sever his connection with the Crystal. Watching a junker pick-up truck was being loaded with their allies and bare necessities, especially watchful of Nyx who’d been placed on a temporary gurney after her injuries, it was Prompto’s silence that struck the prince as most unusual of all. “You ready to go, Prom? Gotta leave before 7, at least.” Though, he took pause, wary. “We leave the city and save our asses before the Niffs can tan them. What else?”

     He didn’t even try and put up the cheerful facade; he saw no reason to. This wasn’t the time for it, anyway. He’d probably just earn glares from the others, if not a slap to the back of the head. The others left, anyway. Gladio was already gone, now he had to be even more careful than before. And... Anyone who knew the blond could tell anyone that secrets were his worst nightmare. Prompto made a habit of blabbing, of talking just to fill silence.. But now? With the king dead, and the Cyrstal being transported elsewhere? He’d have to watch his back, very, very carefully. Just the thought made a lump rise in his throat. He’s glancing around, for Niffs just as everyone else, but for a completely different reason; the opposite, even. He wanted backup. He didn’t want to be here, he couldn’t be here. Not alone. Shaking his head, sweat and dirt coated hair falling into his eyes, and Prompto growls as he kicks at a broken bit of pavement, his hand itching to hold his gun, the comforting weight a barrier against whatevere would come next. ❝Let’s just get the fuck outta here. Smells like blood, and it’s making me antsy.❞

[vultureshot]

DAVINA. hello naughty children it’s murder time

[etherealsaul]

Prompto wip

www.patreon.com/saullewis

[vultureshot]

stahrshell.

@vultureshot replied to your post:

shut up you

’ yooooooouu………. stink? embrace it, bro. or take a heckin’ shower. ’

     Flings an arm around his sister’s shoulders, rubbing his sweat from his forehead on her cheek, grinning all the while. ❝Awwww c’mon, sis. Why embrace the stink when I can just embrace you?❞

[vultureshot]

spitelived.

@vultureshot // SHORT STARTER CALL

❝ i told you t’ fuckin’ move, asshole ! ❞

     His face is nearly emotionless as he glances down at the girl, and Prompto just raises a brow when he asks, ❝You have no concept of ‘chill’, do you, kid?❞

[vultureshot]

antimundi.

Even through this, after not having seen Prompto in what would’ve been years, Noctis still regarded the near mortal wound inflicted upon the other dispassionately. It was tantamount to how cold he’d grown as a killer, how easily it came to him when the facade seemed to betray otherwise in their youth. But as life had proven, his heritage was the ore, his upbringing the hammer and heat and anvil, whilst Niflheim had been the icy water that quenched the blade and made him the weapon he was today. 

Noctis arose from the bed like a ramrod apparition, moving mechanically and with a deadly calm as he had half a mind to butcher his former best friend without so much as a flinch. However, what arose a passion of rage was seeing Nyx–his wife–suddenly shot three times as the salvo rang with a rancor that caused Noctis to summon his Engine Blade and roar to maul the man in a red-hot, blinding rage. He would, he could’ve–Noctis had been taught too well how to kill but not to forgive.

He was stopped short by the gun honed upon him, watching with agony as Nyx crumpled to the ground, blanching from the blood loss and inevitable pain the entry wounds were causing. Instead of cursing at Prompto, Noctis reined into a deadly calm, talking Prompto’s demand for answers as an opening Lumens flicked from behind, the Sword of the Warrior’s outline glinting dangerously close to his head. 

“It’s always been like this, Prom. You were just too blind to see.” Too trusting. He kept his gaze on Prompto so the blond wouldn’t see the machinations mounting behind his back. The sword, if aimed rightly, could disarm Prompto and cause enough damage for them to get away. 

“It’s no one’s fault. This is just how things are.”

One of Nyx’s kukris manifested behind his back, but he didn’t brandish it. Not yet. Just needed to hurl the damn thing, escape with Nyx, and give her a restorative enough to minimize the worst of the damage.

     Noctis’ fury falls on deaf, uncaring ears. Let him be angry, something in him said, let him feel pain for once. The betrayal Prompto had felt at the hands of Lucis deserved to be repaid, did it not? After all, it had been his home, the one place to accept him when he needed it most. And now... This. Lucis went from the land of dreams to the place of nightmares.

     Eyes remain locked on Noctis as the air shifts, the pressure and temperature changing as any emotion, rage, and blood lust that had been on the King’s face fades to a deadly calm. The smell of ozone was hint enough to know the Armiger had been invoked, but at this point, Prompto didn’t care. Let him die, he pleaded to whatever Astral would hear him now, so long as he managed to inflict enough damage that Nyx was in serious danger. That was good enough for him. Sure, he’d failed to take out Noctis without much fuss, but if she was gone, then he’d dealt a heavy enough blow. He watched her from his peripheral, pressing at the open wounds, her eyes trained on Noctis with an expression that he couldn’t quite read.

     ❝Do you really think I’m that stupid?❞ Prompto spits back, ❝‘No one’s fault’? Fuckin’ really? You think I don’t know what Regis got into during his reign? How Aulea had been a messenger of Etro?❞ The Goddess' name is said like a curse; a foul tasting word, one the blond never wanted to have in his mouth again. The Accursed ruler of night, bringer of Chaos.

     If anyone was to blame for how Lucis had twisted, it was her. And how Prompto hated her for it.

     His hand that he held over the gash on his side is slick with his own blood, and he can feel a pool of it forming under his boots. He really didn’t have time to be chatting, but Astrals, finally saying all this felt too good. ❝I know what you really are, Noct. And it’s all her fault.❞