clearcloudlesssky - Tumblr blog

[clearcloudlesssky]

ty for the tag!! perrine from a recent wip

@serendipminie-writes @bassguitarinablackt-shirt @shadow-of-tea-and-tea @a-k-oblackhat + open

OC in 3

Rules: Find three pictures that fit the vibe of your OC!

Thanks so much for the tag @kaylinalexanderbooks (x2) and @somethingclevermahogony! For this one I'm going to do one of my favorites from the main 5 in Project H.A, Bex!

I haven't really talked about Bex before, but she's your classic kinda funny/comic relief/always cracking jokes character that's actually got a really dark traumatic event in her life.

Gently tagging @fadingrealm @clearcloudlesssky @mundanemoongirl and whoever else wants to join! <3

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People don’t talk about Idia-Ortho role reversals enough

Consider Ortho, young and naive, just a child who longs to go on an adventure, just like the heroes in his video games.

He reveres his older brother, who he views to be on the same level as those heroes, if not better, because while heroes are cool, his older brother is the best.

They laugh and hope and dream, cradled within a tech labyrinth of magic and monsters. They subside on daydreams and each other’s presence. The thought of the journeys the two of them will embark on excites Ortho for the future.

He’s the apple of his brother’s eye. Whatever he wants, Idia gets, with a sharp, triumphant smirk and a laugh of;

“Just leave it to your big brother.”

Then Ortho asks for an adventure. And Idia agrees.

Imagine the initial excitement, the sparkle in Ortho’s eye and the grin on Idia’s face as they sneak off the island. The security systems are down, the fluorescent lights are black, and Ortho can hear every step they make, echoing down the halls.

Imagine the spider that crawls up Ortho’s back as he hears something clatter around the corner.

Imagine the fear when he and Idia realize that that something is decidedly inhuman.

His brother tells him to run. He does.

….

The researchers and caretakers tell him that it isn’t his fault, to blame it on Idia.

Idia was the one who agreed.

Idia was the one to shut down the security system.

Idia was the one to release the phantoms.

And it’s Idia’s own fault that he’s dead.

But Ortho knows the truth. Idia didn’t kill himself. The murderer was him.

After that, testimonies say, Ortho was mute for a week, silent and cold in a way the lively boy had never been.

Then he bounces back. He’s bright and cheery, effervescent and seemingly open. But his liveliness isn’t so lively as it is a porcelain mask. The spark in his eyes isn’t there, his optimism feels forced, and something in the boy just feels off.

He throws himself into his studies with a harsh fervor. He stalks the researchers, smile affixed to his face, ever so careful to keep his inquiries polite and sweet. He desperately wants to press, but he can’t afford to get kicked out. Not yet, at least.

Books and metal scraps collect on the work table in his room, and his room’s light doesn’t turn off until late, late into the black night.

Everyone waves his new behavior off. With Idia gone, Ortho is the new heir. What a nice boy, some say. A pity his brother died. Such a shame that a genius was lost, but at least his replacement is hardworking.

Ortho blots their voices out of his ears. Idia won’t be gone for long. He could never replace Idia.

Idia is a hero.

Ortho is no genius, he could never truly reach Idia’s level and prowess in all fields, but he is still a Shroud and by the gods will he try.

Idia’s copy of Star Rogue sits alone on the shelf, painted with a blanket of dust.

Ortho glances at it from his desk, and determinedly thinks;

“Just leave it to your little brother.”

……

When Ortho emerges from his room one day, manic gleam in his eye, smile threatening to tear his lips apart, every Styx faculty member can feel something wrong.

But to Ortho, this is the first time in years that he’s felt right.

…….

A few years later, a new student is admitted to Night Raven College. He is a bright, cheerful young man, the supposed heir of the Shroud family. There is a mechanical being that towers over his smaller figure, sharp and sardonic, fiery artificial hair rolling down his back. They are brothers, the Shroud heir claims.

At this point, no one dares to tell him otherwise.

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IKRR SHE’S SO PERFECT AND GORGEOUS AND RAZOR SHARP AND ALSKDKEKSKSK i am absolutely on cloud nine thank you very much

HHHHANSHSJSJSJS MINIEIAODJDJSKDKDJDJDJD

HELLLLLL YEAHHHHHHHH That's amazing!

She has. Absolutely no right to look that good just on the pull banner???? Like??? The art? Stunning.

Eeeeeeee I'm so happy for you and your lesbian heart you must be on cloud nine gksagskadgsad

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YES.

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….i want to say that i feel shame but every statement there remains absolutely true and heartfelt

she is the icon the legend the father the knave the fictional woman of my dreams the most beautiful handsome woman to ever exist oh my god she could rip me open like a ziplock bag with her lovely red nails and black tipped fingers and all i would be able to do is stare at her and bask in her presence. her hair is so so so beautiful and the suit she wears makes her look so sharp and dignified and did i say handsome she’s terrifying in the most beautiful way possible she is ethereal and perfect and gorgeous and oh my god she

hey remember when you sent me this.

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FATHER FATHER FATHER I LOVE HERSHECAMEHOMETHEKNAVEPERRUEREILODKFFKSNSJKEKEKEK

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yes babe the sex was great but i never finished talking about vampires so i think we need to get back to that

[clearcloudlesssky]

His Hands

He looks down at his hands. They are caring, comforting, and firm— The hands of a father, A husband, A king. Loving hands— The same ones that held those of his dearest on their wedding day, Full of adoration and love. Never wanting to let go. Gentle hands— The same ones that caressed his son’s soft skin as he kissed him goodbye, Tears staining the blanket. I will come back, he promised. He looks down at his hands. They are calloused, bruised, and deadly— The hands of an archer, A craftsman, A soldier. Cunning hands— The same ones that brought victory to him and great sorrow to the enemy, Deep in the dark crevice of night. Vengeful hands— The same ones that brought long-awaited doom upon 108 men, Spoiling his halls with evil. Guilty hands— The same ones that held a sword dripping with the blood of his comrades, His best friend, his brother, his men. He looks down at his hands. They are stained with blood. They always will be. They are his hands, after all.

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These Actions Haunt My Days

Odysseus was used to getting weird dreams. But this one was different.

Someone was watching him.

“Athena?” he called into the dream-void.

A soft chuckle came from behind him. “Don’t mistake me for one of the immortals, Laertides.”

Odysseus whirled around as a man’s figure faded into view. It was someone he recognized, but couldn’t quite put a name to. “Who are you?”

“I’m just a man.” The figure raised a hand and gestured to him. “Like yourself.”

Odysseus’s hand flew to his waist, then he remembered that this was just a dream. He can’t hurt you. And you can’t hurt him.

“What do you want, stranger?” he spat.

“You call me stranger, yet you too triumphed over my fallen body.”

So he was a ghost. An enemy … Odysseus almost didn’t dare ask. “H—Hector?”

The Son of Troy smiled—a gentle smile, although his eyes held a controlled rage. “No respect for your opponent, it seems. It took you that long to recognize me.”

“Why are you here, prince?”

His smile faded as his expression hardened. “I wanted to talk to you, one father to another.”

Oh.

“If this is about your son—”

“You did it to protect your own. I understand that. But…” He sighed. “You and I are not as different as you might think, Odysseus.”

The tactician titled his head, cautious but curious. “Oh?”

“You are a king, fighting for your country. You fight for your wife, who awaits you back at home. And your son, who you want to see grow up to live a glorious life. And you will do anything necessary to protect those you love the most.” Hector stepped closer and softened his voice a little. “I, too, fight for my people. For me, my city is my first love. I did everything in my power to try and protect it, but my efforts were in vain.”

Odysseus lowered his eyes.

“My wife, my Andromache—she longed for an end to that terrible war so that we could be happy together. But I told her … I told her that I might not come home—as surely you must have told your Penelope.”

“You—”

“And my son. All I wanted was for him to grow up to become a good prince—Lord of the City, as we called him.” His eyes filled with sorrow. “He was an infant, Odysseus. I understand that it was between you and him, but … he didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be slaughtered in such a dishonorable way. You were given a choice, Odysseus, you—” his voice caught in his throat. “You could have raised him; you could have given him the life I never could. But you didn’t. You chose the easy way out.”

“Easy?” Odysseus’s temper flared. “You think it was easy to hold your son over the walls of Troy, all while looking into his eyes and only seeing my own? You think it was easy to ride inside that horse into the city as the people celebrated, knowing that their joy would be short-lived? You think it was easy to watch the city burn as the people screamed for mercy, calling for their loved ones so they could breathe their last in each other’s arms? All while knowing full well that it was your fault this entire massacre occurred?” Tears were running down his cheeks now, staining his chiton. “None of this was easy, prince. It haunts my every step; occupies my every thought. I wish—how I wish I could have prevented this, but in the end, it was never up to me.”

“No,” Hector whispered. “But you could have tried.”

Odysseus’s heart ached. “I did,” he choked. “I really did.”

“There’s blood on your hands,” Hector said softly. “And there will be more. But whose blood—that remains up to you.”

With that, Hector’s figure disappeared, leaving Odysseus to fall to his knees and cry, each sob clenching his heart with guilt.

[clearcloudlesssky]

oh SHIT

my inbox right now is so funny its just:

(people asking about my hcs for pjo characters which i really need to start working on answering those)

(nice asks from my fwiends i keep unanswered so i can look at them when im sad)

(that one ask of my friend simping for arlecchino that im planning on answering when said friend pulls her on her upcoming banner)

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art nouveau and frutiger aero are long lost lovers tragically separated by time

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happy birhday to the lovebirds (literally)

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NYMPHIA WIND // rpdr s16 finale runway

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since when were kale flowers a thing??

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i could never be a minimalist