Tag: ffxv

chalabrun:

“You of all people
must know how Noct feels: bereft of both parents, and forced to carry
on despite losing those those you love! You both feel that pain!”

                                                 ⤷ Noctis & Ravus: Parallels

Xenophobia and Insomnia

theydonotbindus:

If you’ve seen Kingsglaive, you caught it floating around the edges of the plot. A look at how the Chocobros deal with it when they see it. 

Noctis actually doesn’t realize it until they’re on the road trip. While he was allowed to go to the arcade with Prompto, most of his time in the Crown City was very monitored–and otherwise? Everybody knew he was the prince. His reaction is an angry, shocked what the Hell?! and glaring down the xenophobic person until they leave. He’s pretty morose after each incident, but asks Ignis about laws to stop it once he retakes Insomnia. Isn’t happy to learn there’s not a fast fix.

Prompto is aware of it, and doesn’t like it. He knows he’s adopted so part of him wonders if they’d say that to him, if they knew. The casual remarks not directed at individuals, he ignores, if a situation looks like it might get more serious, he has his phone ready to film anything that might go down. Sometimes tries to pretend he knows the victim of the attacks and chatters them away to safety. Once in the Crownsguard, asks for verbal deflection tips for future incidents.

Gladio is honestly confused by it. Some families like his had been in Insomnia for forever, but why the Hell do these folks think they have anything to stand on–three generations ago, they were from other places, too. Hypocrites. He goes with the guilt angle to deal with it: “Man, can you imagine having to flee your war-torn home? That must be so terrible. Why don’t you think we want them here?” Most aggressors are cowards and shrink away from his bulk. The ones that don’t tend to regret it. 

Ignis is personally offended by xenophobic sentiments–after all, he’s from Tenebrae*, originally. He’s actually on good terms with quite a few Glaives due to his ruthless defense of them; quick to point out to an aggressor that they’re provoking a highly trained member of His Majesty’s personal army. Fear, he thinks, is no excuse to ever be cruel…nor is stupidity. Also prone to “what’s so bad about them being from X?” and making the jerk reveal their cruelty through logic. 

*His accent is meant to suggest he’s from somewhere else, and I wonder where else in Eos they have British accents….

mistress-light:

This tale of our shared past is entrusted to the King of Kings.

The Six have safeguarded this star since time immemorial – each of a different mind, but united by this common purpose.

The gods’ protection extends to all creatures here below – even to the mortals created in their image. They are feeble creatures leading fragile lives and clinging to foolish fancies. The Frostbearer scorns these visions of ‘hope’ which melt like snow in the sun’s light.

Yet the Pyreburner admires their strength of will. For their reverence, he grants unto them his flame, and the world of man flourishes. His benevolence warms the frozen heart of the Frostbearer. The mortals have earned her respect; he, her love and admiration.

It is not long, however, before some among those men ascend to new heights of hubris. The people of Solheim spurn the gods who blessed them – the gods they once worshipped. The ungrateful mortals incur the wrath of the Pyreburner. He seeks to raze the very civilization his flames once helped build.

But the Six are sworn to defend this star and all of her inhabitants from harm – and, at times, from one another. The flames of war surge as Solheim fends off the Pyreburner’s fire. The gods’ pleas for peace fall on deaf ears and the battle rages on.

When the smoke clears, the world of man is in ruins, their star left scarred for time eternal. Wearied from war, the Six seek solace in slumber.

“Sorry I’m late,” he murmured into her hair, his arms warm around her back. “Traffic was terrible. Who knew sea snakes didn’t know how to park?”

She smiled into his shoulder and tried not to laugh. Tightening her grip on him, she let the dawn wash over her. Her wish had been heard after all.

“It’s alright,” she said as the sun continued to rise, “You’re right on time.”

–

(crosspost from my DA; all model information can be found there.)

Prompt: Niflheim abducts Noctis and uses him as a magic battery! :D

ivorydice:

I guess this could be considered mildly AU, and I’m so sorry for the confusing turn this took lol, my brain went a little weird with it. I’m not sure if I’ll put it up on AO3 or not. Maybe? Eventually? Who knooowws XD

Word count: 3680
Rating: T (like a mild T lol)
Warnings: None really, unless you count any mistakes and terrible grammar lol (and maybe mentions of needles? Mentions of a taser being used? Could be considered mild torture, but only very slightly? I don’t know, this is really tame compared to other things I’ve written lololol)

-guilt machine-

He
didn’t know how long it had been since he had been brought into
this place. Days, weeks, months.
Time became meaningless after a while, after he was prodded and poked
at and tased to make him more cooperative. It all blended into one
thing, until there was nothing but the pain, the exhaustion, the
frustration. The unconsciousness that kept pulling him under, like a
weight wrapped around his ankle and pulling him down, down,
to drown in it all. His mind became fuzzy with it, until he couldn’t
think past the ringing and the blood roaring in his ears.

It
was a shame, because he liked to think he had started out so well. He
had used his training, he had done everything Gladio and Cor had
prepared him for. He had fought in the beginning, when they had first
brought him in. He had punched and kicked and thrown himself around,
warping out of grasping hands, and it had taken several of them at
once to hold him down long enough to tase him until he was
unconscious.

And that was where it all went downhill. Once
they had him unconscious, they had strapped him into the machine
waiting for him. And once he was strapped in, there was little else
he could do but thrash in his restraints. He had fought against them,
had pulled at the straps so much that he had nearly dislocated his
arms more than once, had pulled until the wires and needles had
ripped out of his flesh, tearing the skin open. All the while yelling
curses at them and warning them that it wouldn’t be long before the
crownsguard found him, before his dad would make them all pay.

They
didn’t care. Not about his threats, or even about him. They just
carried on with their jobs, their faces cold and closed off whenever
they were around him, as if he was a mere object,
one of their test subjects, nothing human or alive.

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