his-pair-of-spare-glasses

[his-pair-of-spare-glasses]

#4 for me #it's always more of a concept than an actual image #shadows of bits and pieces #and it is pain

[his-pair-of-spare-glasses]

Art inspired by the fic “to staying dead” by sideb_track2 on ao3!

#ffxv #Ignoct #suits #SUITS

[his-pair-of-spare-glasses]

~I didn’t want to leave anything unsaid

inspired by x

#ffxv #Ignoct #will I ever reblog with the right account? #I doubt #I LOVE THEM OKAY #guess this had to be said everywhere

[his-pair-of-spare-glasses]

#ffxv #Noctis #my king #love you #<3

[his-pair-of-spare-glasses]

He smol.

And he protecc.

#ffxv #Noctis #Ignis #doodle #chibi #myart #madness #all the silly things

[his-pair-of-spare-glasses]

#ffxv #Noctis #doodle #sketch #myart #I keep drawing the same angles #rehab sketching #still not feeling the vibe #but I love the starry things

[his-pair-of-spare-glasses]

I miss making pins

[his-pair-of-spare-glasses]

King 👑

#ffxv #Noctis #KING INDEED #Love you your Majesty

[his-pair-of-spare-glasses]

Been thinking about how I'll never make a business card as pretty as this ever again. Sigh.

#ffxv #very pretty indeed #I loved the gold foiling on that one #<3

[his-pair-of-spare-glasses]

You know, an interesting tumblr transformation that's happened gradually, and which I've seen no one talk about: ask-culture has essentially dropped off to nothing.

By which I mean, asks used to be WAY more of the tumblr economy. They used to be more common to send, and receive, and see. They were integral to the collaborative, forum-like behavior of old tumblr communities, not even to speak on the HUGE number of ask-blogs that used to exist to only be interacted with in ask-form.

I'm not saying this in a vying-for-attention way but instead in an observational way: I used to get way way more asks in like 2015, even with a fraction of my follower count. I wonder if it's due to the homogenization of social media sites? There's a lot more of this divide between "content creator" and "consumer" instead of just a bunch of peer blogs who would talk to each other. "Asks" aren't really a thing on twitter, are they? And as I understand it, the closest thing to an "ask" on instagram or tiktok would be a creator screenshotting some comment and responding to it in a new reel or video or whatever those content mediums are. Are asks just too tumblr-specific? Is that aspect of the site culture dying out as more and more people converge to using all their social media sites in the same way?

[his-pair-of-spare-glasses]

For all those who remain. Thank you so much.

[his-pair-of-spare-glasses]

dusk after dawn

read it on AO3 Here

by RatsuyaSuou

“It’s about Noct.”

Ignis’ breath hitched. “Go on.”

Even though Ignis had expected it, the name stung nevertheless. Still, he had to be ready. If Prompto had something to tell him, Ignis would hear it. It was his duty.

(And perhaps, somewhere deep within, Ignis longed to hear about Noct in whatever meager capacity he could.)

Prompto decided then to say the most earth-shattering words he could.

“He left me something for you.”

Words: 3590, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Final Fantasy XV

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Major Character Death

Categories: M/M

Characters: Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum, Noctis Lucis Caelum

Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum & Ignis Scientia

Additional Tags: Canonical Character Death, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Post-Canon, Grief/Mourning, Bittersweet, Coping

read it on AO3 Here

[his-pair-of-spare-glasses]

“I love you. Most ardently.”

[his-pair-of-spare-glasses]

Dear diary...

I am finally ready to present a fic that has been dormant in my drawer for ages. But I finished it and I hope you will like it.

Ever fancied the idea of Noct keeping a diary? You like coffeeshop AU? Then this one is for you.

Read the story here on Ao3!

Thank you wonderful Sous for beta reading <3

[his-pair-of-spare-glasses]

Ignis Scientia of New Insomnia, The Chosen.

All accounts speak of the True King leaving no heir, his Nobel sacrifice bringing back the light ending his reign. Those closest in his fight left with no words, no orders, and wholly humble, it is well known that all those who watched the sun rise once more that day felt relief…. But also lost.

The Chosen King, also known as “The True Seeing” King was placed forwards, tasked with leading by those left behind in the sun's light. No arguments were made, no one claiming to have royal blood. No one wanted the throne after so much chaos had been caused by it… after how much blood had been spilt because of it. 

The burden now on The Chosen King, the light having returned did not mean our problems were solved. Lucis still lay in shambles, the people still cramped in small fortified cities without true order. Monstrous machinery kept running despite the demise of their master, aimless with hatred attacking all that moved. The Chosen King took up arms, seeing no mercy for the soulless creatures. Any daemon or built soldier slain where it stood, armies of them falling and littering the deserts with broken metal. All remains of daemons were burned in cleansing fires… but the metal was piled high, left in place after orders - a reminder in time of how they had fallen.

Not afraid of the continuous fight, only a small few were hand selected as the new army of The Chosen King to help. Those who had stood by his predecessor who asked for forgiveness were given their penances. These soldiers were not only tasked with protecting the people who returned to the crumbled city of Insomnia… but to rebuild it anew. Each brick was painstakingly cleared from the crumbled streets, each body buried after being given their rights. It took labour and time, but the shining city began to take form, left with remanence of the old city once again as reminders. It seemed important to those left behind that no history was left without evidence and its mark on the world.

The only part of the old city that remained completely untouched was the citadel. Allowed to remain as it was, the Chosen King and the two men who remained at his side throughout his reign continued work in there alone. It became a sacred ground, the walls gifted with plants and flowers that seemed only to ever grow, never to wither, as if the Gods had blessed the place themselves. Inside, it is still said the remains of the fallen Kings of Old Insomnia lay, their graves hand crafted by the New King, his right hand, and his shield.

During his reign, The Chosen King took no partner, nor bore an heir. Instead, he looked amongst his people for those with qualities he deemed fit. He placed into law that blood could no longer be the way Kings were made, and those who shone brightest and kindness in New Insomnia would take the throne. It may have been considered foolish at first, as lustful eyes looked to tempt the crown to their own heads. But none who had cruelty in their hearts could fool the three men who protected what the True King had died for. Each one fell into ruin under blank stares, often paraded through the streets as punishment for their mockery of what was considered sacred. 

In older age, The Chosen King, despite his blindness, saw threats well, and made sure to flatten them before they could storm against New Insomnia’s walls. It was considered an age of peace in the eyes of civilians, and all who trained to protect the city felt their fights were not in vain. Battles fought were not without their King, who swept through enemies as if his sight still remained. No man who stood at his side felt fear in the field, all knowing well tactics had long been perfected. 

Despite age, it was the youngest of the three survivors, the Hand of the King who died first. It is still sadly unknown how Prompto Argentum took their last breath. All records around the man’s death seem to either be lost or destroyed.  He was declared of Lucis by The Chosen King, his body was carried by his companions through the streets until they met the citadel. No sound was heard, no one dared to break the silence even in their grief. The wind seemed to blow softer on the day as birds stopped their singing in mourning of the Hand of the King. No one tells of the day the youngest man of the three died, only that since that day, the Shield of the King refused to speak. His voice seemingly lost in his grief, the impact of the loss was felt in the Royal Palace all throughout. All stories of the Hand were cheerful, speaking only of his kindness and tragedy of his loss. Anyone who whispered rumours of his true birth became unwelcome, often gone before they were able to defend themselves.

Time passed, and while hearts could not be mended, an heir was eventually chosen with special care. Not a soldier, nor a scholar. A man only placed forwards seemingly due to his compassion. The Heir was given no privilege in his upbringing, but once chosen, was schooled in combat only as a means to defend himself - the rest, told of history to make sure mistakes could not be repeated. They learned well under The Chosen King, and his silent Shield.

The grief the city felt at the passing of their Chosen King could not compare. Those who had been touched by his protectiveness of New Insomnia covered their eyes in cloth as a gesture to him. Unlike the Hand of the King, the streets were filled with chimes of songs of grief and sobbing. All those who had known him told stories of what he had done for them. The city of New Insomnia was awash with banners of all colours, and those who stood blindly in the streets could not see as their king was carried towards his final resting place. Once more opening the doors to the citadel, the New King carried out the wishes of his predecessor. Buried beside Noctis Lucis Callum and his father, beneath the marble floor where the old throne once sat, the doors were sealed for the final time. The spear, which had served Ignis Scientia so well, was taken by his Shield - Gladiolus Amicitia, into the outside world. While it held no power as the Royal Arms had once, the tradition of placing the weapons away from the city held true. Its last known resting place, however, is unknown, as Gladiolus never returned to New Insomnia. He took his leave still in silence, strapped with the weapons of his fallen allies.

It is said that Gladiolus returned the spear to the place The Chosen King lost his vision. Others say that the Shield still walks Lucis, much like the Gilgamesh of old, protecting what he held dear.

The only true thing known is that the four men who stood against the darkness all took their own paths in death.

[his-pair-of-spare-glasses]

"I do not have the talent of conversing easily with people I have never met before."

[his-pair-of-spare-glasses]

Reblog if you’re 30 or older

This is an experiment to see if there really are as few of us as people think.You can also use this to freak out your followers who think you’re 25 or something. Yay!