#Sparks of Calliope

[sparksofcalliope]

We'll Be Right Back!

#break #SparksofCalliope

Sparks of Calliope is taking a brief intermission. We will return on December 6, 2024. There will be no poems published for: November 27, 2024November 30, 2024December 3, 2024 Thank you for coming to see us!

[9ine9ine9ine6ix]

i forgot that Regular Show just does Homestuck at the end

[corvianbard]

#7236

Calliope, whose voice is harmony itself, Descend to blow inspiration in an aspiring writer's ears. Let a new tale gain enough fame to be in every shelf And spark more imagination for many years.

[vivsinkpot]

How to Craft an Unforgettable Opening Sentence

“Begin as you mean to go on—but with teeth.”

Your first sentence is more than a hook. It’s a promise: of tone, voice, tension, and style. So how do you make it bite?

Start with Movement or Mood

Drop the reader into something already happening—a flicker of tension, a sound, a change.

“The scream tore through the morning like a knife through silk.”

“By the time they noticed the blood on the floor, she was already gone.”

Ask yourself: What emotion do I want the reader to feel right away?

Start with a Contradiction

Use paradox to spark curiosity.

“Everyone said he was a good man. He wasn’t.”

“She had waited her whole life for this moment, and now she wanted to run.”

Contradiction = instant tension. The reader wants to know why.

Start After the Event

Let the fallout speak louder than the explosion.

“They buried the monster behind the chapel, but the ground never settled.”

“It took three days for the smell to fade.”

Hints of trauma, mystery, or aftermath can draw readers deeper than action ever could.

Let Voice Do the Work

If you’ve got a strong narrator, show it off in the first line.

“You’d think I’d be used to ghosts by now.”

“The last time I saw him, he was trying to steal a book from a priest.”

Voice tells the reader how this story will be told. Think attitude, rhythm, and perspective.

Don’t Waste Time Being Polite

Skip greetings. Skip the weather (unless it’s cursed). Skip “My name is…”

Instead of: “My name is Calliope and I live in the city of…”

Try: “They say beauty is a gift. I say it’s a curse.”

Jump into what matters. You can catch the reader up later—right now, you’re getting them hooked.

Your challenge: Write 3 first sentences for your WIP.

Make one moody, one voicey, and one full of contradiction. Then pick the one that won’t let you go.

Want feedback? Tag #vivsfirstlinechallenge and let’s read each other’s openings 💌

[fir-fireweed]

Cantata RO drop! I hope you’re as excited about this little spark plug as I am!

Calliope Cato (she/her)

The inventor/artificer, Calliope can build and fix any machine. She is 2 years younger than you, petite, with gold eyes, rich brown skin and black hair in multiple braids. Her hair and clothes are adorned in rings, belts, and pins which double as tools. She carries a man’s cane sword with her everywhere, which she wields in a fight along with a hand crossbow.

She’s curious, optimistic, excitable, and easily distracted by her many projects, but much of that is to keep her mind occupied. In quiet moments when she thinks no one is looking, you glimpse a profound sadness on her features.

[blackbirdofasgard]

Smutty Lokius Fic Recs!

In the interest of sharing some smutty fics to read at the Thanksgiving table in case of awkward family drama, here are some of my favorite Lokius ones since I don't have much time to write myself. @in-my-loki-feels, I saw your interest in the tags, so I hope you can find some good ones here! 😁

(Disclaimer: This is in no way a comprehensive list of every smutty Lokius fic I love. Also, these are almost exclusively older fics from several years ago, but if you read them and enjoy, please leave some love; I can confirm that no matter how old a fic is, it's amazing to get a comment on it!)

In no particular order:

Self-Insert by @mirilyawrites

There's My Pretty Girl by anisapprentice

Wrap Me Up (With a Nice Little Bow) by @underwhelmingalchemist

New Message by @chaos-monkeyy

Just can't get enough by @mirilyawrites

Watch Over Me by eba

Something more by @chaos-monkeyy

fantasy by mxwicked (SpacemanSpiff7)

Addicted by @late-to-the-party-81

Nothing But Time by @starport-seven-five

waterfall, you're beautiful by @bforeverloverly

Apollonian by rudearrow

Melt by @mirilyawrites

Overworked by @chaos-monkeyy

Thinking About It by fabrega

memory marks by groaninlynch

You Are Not Alone by @twdobsessive

Boardroom Boredom by bespokehermit

Purgatory by giraffed

Tantalizingly Unhurried by angel_ponders

Among the Stars by @mirilyawrites

Let My Love Throw a Spark by Calliope Starling (CitrusApple)

Beautiful, Chaotic, Unpredictable by angel_ponders

Challenge Accepted by nununununu

A Breach of Protocol (orphan account)

Found by raelle

Promises by @highwarlockofphilly

love had me lost when you let me in by RunnyYolk

[letthemkook]

⚡︎ THE PANTHEON SERIES: KERAUNOS K.NJ ⚡︎

Pairing: Zeus!Namjoon × Mortal Songstress! MC (You as Calliope)

Themes: Divine obsession, power imbalance, forbidden love, jealousy, fate vs free will, forced devotion, worship vs fear, storm symbolism, divine punishment

Genre: Dark Romance, Mythological Fantasy, Psychological Thriller

Warnings: Yandere behavior, emotional manipulation, dubcon, possessiveness, divine coercion, obsessive love, arranged marriage (with another god), power imbalance, god x mortal dynamics, eventual SMUT

Intro: She sings for joy, not praise. For children, not kings. But Zeus hears her. Watches her. Wants her. He will show her— To be loved by a god is to be claimed by a storm.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ϟ ⚡︎ ϟ ˖ ݁ 𖥔.

Part 1: The Hyms of Calliope

Nestled between olive groves and the Aegean wind, the village of Theros held no claim to grandeur. Its beauty was in the stillness: children’s laughter echoing down stone alleys, bread rising in clay ovens, and the hum of bees weaving through fig trees. And in the heart of it all was Calliope — not a goddess, but close enough.

She lived in a sun-washed house with wooden shutters painted blue like the sea. Her older brother, Dorian, carried the strength of ten men and a scowl that sent wolves scampering back into the hills. Her younger brother, Nikan, was quieter — all ink-stained fingers and curious eyes, always pressing wildflowers into the pages of old books. Together, they formed an odd, warm trio — a home spun from care and loyalty.

Calliope was the village’s jewel, but not because she tried to be. She had a voice that didn’t sound mortal. When she sang, even the cypress trees bent slightly, as though trying to listen. Wealthy travelers came from Delos, even from far-off Corinth, just to see her sing at harvest festivals. She accepted gifts shyly — woven silk, carved lyres, pearls from foreign ports — but she always gave more than she took.

She preferred the children. Every morning, just past sunrise, she walked barefoot to the village square, hair braided with marigolds, carrying honeycakes in a basket. The children flocked to her like gulls to breadcrumbs. She sang songs of dolphins and moonflowers, lullabies with melodies that clung to the skin like salt spray. Her voice made even the most restless boys sit still. And when she laughed — real, unfiltered — it felt like sunlight breaking through a storm.

And in the clouds, the storm was watching.

—

Zeus was not supposed to walk among mortals.

The gods were bound by rules — old, brittle things that none dared break aloud. But Zeus had always been too vast for law. Olympus bored him, its marble halls echoing with the clipped voices of gods too proud and too cruel. And Hera — his intended — was a dagger dressed in silk. Her laugh was sharp. Her eyes colder than the mountaintop snow. It was not love. It was politics.

So when the winds whispered of a mortal girl whose voice made temples tremble, he descended — not in thunder, but in shadow.

He came as a stranger with kind eyes, dressed in simple robes. His name, he told them, was Namjoon. He claimed to be a traveling tutor, recently arrived from Thebes. The villagers welcomed him with curiosity and wine. But Zeus had eyes only for her.

He first saw her singing beneath an almond tree, arms raised as the children clapped and danced. Her voice floated, pale and perfect. He did not breathe. He forgot how. For a moment, the wind stilled. The clouds hesitated. And in that pause between notes, Zeus fell in love.

Not with a woman. With a mortal. A flickering spark bound by death.

—

Namjoon — Zeus — became a fixture in Theros.

He helped Dorian rebuild the goat pens after a storm. He taught Nikan how to bind book spines tighter so the pages wouldn’t slip. He brought figs to the school and sweets for the children. And Calliope? She found herself smiling when she saw him.

He never looked at her like the other men did. Not with hunger. Not with arrogant longing. He looked at her like she was already his — and yet, he waited. Gently. Carefully.

“You’re not from here,” she said one evening, handing him a piece of honeycake as they watched the children play. “But you act like you belong.”

“I go where the sky tells me to go,” he answered with a soft smile. “And I’ve never seen a sky more beautiful than the one above Theros.”

She blushed. He looked away. But above them, unseen, thunder rolled — a soft, distant growl.

—

A festival approached. The Moon Bloom — when villagers strung white lanterns between trees and sang beneath the full moon. Calliope was asked to perform, as always, and she agreed.

The night arrived, fragrant with jasmine and roasted lamb. Calliope stood in the center of the square in a robe the color of stormlight. Flowers were braided into her hair by the village girls, who whispered of how beautiful she looked. She tried to ignore the way her heart beat faster when Namjoon appeared in the crowd.

When she sang, the stars came closer.

Namjoon watched her, not moving. Not blinking. And something in the air shifted. A hush — heavy and ancient — blanketed the world. Somewhere beyond mortal sight, the gods turned their heads.

And one goddess narrowed her eyes.

—

From her throne on Olympus, Hera’s fingers curled around her scepter.

It wasn’t the first time Zeus had wandered. She’d grown used to his dalliances. But this — this mortal girl with her foolish innocence and golden voice — was different. Zeus wasn’t merely intrigued.

He was changing.

She saw how he looked at her — not like a god sizing up a toy — but like a man who would rewrite fate for love. And Hera, whose wrath had crushed cities, felt something splinter inside her.

It wasn’t just about jealousy. It was about order. He was promised to her. The balance of Olympus, the harmony of the heavens, depended on their union. If Zeus broke that bond, the world would split.

So she watched Calliope.

Watched her smile.

Watched her sing.

Watched her unknowingly steal the favor of the sky — and she seethed.

—

Back in Theros, Namjoon sat beside Calliope after the festival, their knees brushing beneath a tree wrapped in ribbons.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she teased.

“I’ve seen something rarer,” he murmured, brushing a flower from her hair. “A woman who makes even gods question eternity.”

She laughed — shy, unsure. “That’s quite a thing to say.”

He leaned closer. “I only speak truths.”

And as he kissed her hand, the wind stirred. The lanterns flickered. Calliope shivered — not from cold, but from something deep and ancient that whispered:

You’ve been seen.

—

In the clouds above, Hera stood. Watching.

And the storm she was summoning would not be made of rain.

—————

The gifts began as kindness.

A handful of salt-sugared dates from a faraway grove. A bolt of sky-blue silk sheathed in cedar. A comb, silver-toothed and humming faintly with warmth, that passed through her curls as though they were mist. Calliope accepted them with unease — not because they were unwelcome, but because she did not know what she’d done to deserve such wealth.

“I only sing,” she told Namjoon softly one morning, running her fingers along the silk. “Others have done far more noble things.”

Namjoon — Zeus beneath skin — only smiled. “And yet, you bring more peace to this village than a hundred warriors.”

Her eyes flickered to his, uncertain, and he reached for her hand. His thumb brushed her knuckles. She didn’t pull away. But even as she smiled, something old stirred behind his gaze — something watchful, waiting.

—

Dorian noticed first.

Namjoon was too helpful. Too perfect. He knew how to set a bone, patch a roof, calm a screaming child. He never made mistakes. Never tired. Always knew when to appear, and when to disappear.

“He’s hiding something,” Dorian muttered to Nikan as they watched Calliope laugh beside him beneath the almond tree.

Nikan hesitated. “But he’s kind to her. And to us.”

Dorian crossed his arms. “Even kindness can be a kind of trap.”

Nikan didn’t argue, but that night, by oil lamp, he wrote a letter to their aunt in Thessaly: Have you heard of a man called Namjoon? He arrived with the spring storms.

Calliope, meanwhile, felt only warmth. She did not see the way Namjoon watched her when she turned away — the way his fingers twitched when another man came too near, the way the wind always seemed to hush around her.

The villagers were too grateful to question him. Crops bloomed early. The well never dried. Illnesses passed like mild headaches. The children said the stars shone brighter when Calliope sang — and they were right.

Because Zeus had bent the sky to her.

—

Far above the mortal realm, in the gleaming cold of Olympus, a storm was already building.

Hera stood beneath the arched ceiling of the eastern temple, eyes fixed on the swirling clouds far below. Behind her, Demeter approached in silence.

“You’ve felt it,” Hera said without turning.

Demeter nodded. “Even the grain recoils from him now.”

They stood together, two goddesses once worshipped as sisters of order and growth, now watching the world change beneath them.

“He breaks his vows,” Hera said, voice quiet and sharp. “For her.”

“She’s only mortal,” Demeter offered. “Let the flame pass. You know how he is.”

But Hera’s lip curled. “This is not passing. He hides nothing. He courts her in daylight. In temples. Before the wind and the stars.”

Demeter fell silent.

Then came laughter — light, cruel, and golden.

Aphrodite.

She swept into the temple like perfume, draped in roses, hair glinting with pearls. She smiled like she knew every secret that had ever been whispered.

“Oh Hera,” she cooed, lounging against a pillar. “How tragic, to be dethroned by a girl who doesn’t even know she’s a rival.”

Hera’s fingers tensed around her scepter. “Leave.”

“I merely came to offer sympathy.” Aphrodite feigned a pout. “Imagine — you, Queen of the Gods, cast aside for a mortal child. What will the poets say?”

Demeter stepped forward. “You push too far.”

Aphrodite’s smile widened. “Perhaps. But isn’t it delicious? To watch power unravel for love?”

Lightning licked the edges of Hera’s aura.

Aphrodite left, laughing.

Moments later, the earth split in a distant land — a quake so violent it cracked mountains and swallowed a village whole. Mortals wailed. Temples collapsed. And still, Zeus did not look away from Calliope.

—

In Theros, spring bled into summer. Calliope’s voice floated daily through the fields. Her brothers grew uneasy — Dorian patrolling the woods more often, Nikan becoming quieter, more observant. But Calliope was happy. Or trying to be.

Namjoon was attentive. Generous. Gentle with the children, quick to laugh, quick to lift a girl’s fallen basket or stop a charging goat. The village adored him. But sometimes, when Calliope sang and turned, she’d find him already watching her — not admiring, but drinking her in. Like her voice was the only thing holding the stars in the sky.

He never spoke about his past. Or family. Or home. She asked once, and he kissed her hand and said, “You are my home now.”

It was sweet.

And it was terrifying.

—

That night, Hera stood alone in her chambers, the marble beneath her feet cracking in thin spiderweb lines. The mirror before her was not a mortal mirror, but a sacred thing — a still lake cupped in silver and lit with the breath of Titans.

She gazed into it.

And saw Calliope laughing.

Saw Namjoon — Zeus — brush her hair behind her ear.

Saw the way she leaned into him.

And something ancient inside her broke.

She whispered, “You’ll see. He’ll see. All of Olympus will see.”

She stepped from the mirror and opened a hidden chest, carved with symbols too old for even the Fates to speak. Inside: a pin of woven night, a bottle of starlight oil, a cloth of shadow pulled from the mouth of a dying god.

She spread them before her.

And smiled, cold and regal.

“Let her sing no more.”

——

Taglist: @ungodlyjoon

[leeemonshark]

I like you. You get inside scoop of my mythology AU.

Sky-Byte has a child that he carried with another siren mech, but he ended up leaving him and breaking his spark. This occurred before the baby was born. In fact, Sky-Byte has a scar from it by his gestation chamber.

I did debate on whether or not the little baby siren would be the same sparkling from my other fic, Calliope, but canonically in my AU, she is a JetByte child, so I’m trying to think of new names for her. So far I got Ceto or Amphitrite (greek mythology names go brrrrr).

Jetfire, being a harpy, doesn’t really know how to raise a child since harpy babies typically have to survive on their own (not actual mythology at least I don’t think so) meaning that he never had any type of parental care ever in his life. That coupled with the fact that he’s been alone most of this life kinda messed with his mental health.

Soooooo little baby siren is like exposure therapy to him. He loves her very much.

Yayyyyy *ate it* thank you!!!

I like the name Ceto!! but my poor Sky-Byte 😭😭 I didn't expect him to be a single dad 😭

[bedtime-broadcast]

The Hotel Lobby — The Next Day

The hotel was quiet again—but this time, it was the kind of quiet that came before a storm. Alastor paced the length of the lounge like a caged animal, Calliope nestled sleepily against his chest in her sling. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t even blinked for longer than a second since the agents left. His antlers twitched at every creak. Every shadow. Every whisper.

Charlie had tried to talk to him. So had Vaggie, Husk, Angel Dust, and Niffty. But he couldn’t hear them. His world had narrowed to the weight of his daughter and the echo of her little voice saying, “Baba?”

The doors burst open.

Six figures this time. Heavily armed. Wards stitched into their coats, chains and rings of demonic iron clinking as they stepped inside. Leading them was the same agent from the day before, now wearing a badge glowing with infernal sanction. A writ of authority burned in his hand.

CPS Agent: *coldly* Alastor the Radio Demon. Stand down. We’re here to take the child.

Alastor: *voice like screeching radio feedback* You won’t touch her.

CPS Agent: After a full review of infernal law and metaphysical classifications, it’s been determined that as a sinner, you cannot reproduce. This child is Hellborn. Therefore—she is not biologically yours.

Alastor’s breath caught. His hands tightened on Calliope’s back protectively.

CPS Agent: There’s been speculation—kidnapping. Unlawful claiming of a Hellborn minor. The child is to be taken into protective custody until her true guardians can be located.

Alastor: *growling, voice shaking* True guardian? She is mine. I carried her! I gave birth to her! You dare tell me otherwise?!

CPS Agent: We’re not here to argue, sir.

The agents moved in.

Alastor’s shadows exploded from beneath his feet, forming jagged spikes and claws, his aura flaring red-hot with static.

Alastor: *screaming* I WARNED YOU!

They were ready.

In a flash, glowing red restraints clamped around his wrists—sigils burning into his skin like molten wire. He howled, collapsing forward, his powers vanishing like smoke as the enchantments locked into place. The floor scorched beneath him where his knees hit, his scream choked by a guttural sob as Calliope cried out in terror. She was still in Alastor’s arms, his arms bound together holding her tighter to him.

Calliope: *screeching* BABA! BABA!

Two agents rushed forward, grabbing the infant. Alastor tried holding off as tightly as he could, not wanting to let her go!

Charlie surged forward first, her eyes glowing hot with holy fire as her voice cracked through the room like a whip.

Charlie: STOP THIS! I am Princess Charlotte Morningstar— and heir to the throne of Hell! You do not have the authority to—”

CPS Agent: *cutting her off coldly* Your title holds no jurisdiction in the Envy Ring’s department. This child is under our custody now.

Vaggie bared her teeth, stepping protectively in front of Charlie, her spear forming in her hand with a flare of silver-hot light.

Angel Dust: *popped both sets of arms and growled* You’re not takin’ that baby anywhere, you knockoff exorcist bastards.

Niffty: *goes to the CPS agent with an angelic steel needle* You touch her again, and I’ll cut your fingers off and sew 'em to your eyelids!

Husk: Yeah, this ain’t happenin’. *holds up his cards*

But the agents were trained for resistance. They began moving faster, casting a barrier to push the group back, drawing weapons designed to neutralize even the most powerful demons.

Charlie tried breaking the steel that held and suppressed Alastor’s powers but her triton had no effect.

The agents yanked Calliope’s blanket— and Alastor, bound and choking on blood, screamed hoarsely as she slipped from his arms.

Alastor: NO — NO! PLEASE! CALLIOPE!

Calliope wailed, her small arms reaching, her hooves kicking. The moment her body left Alastor’s grasp, his soul buckled. The lights in the hotel cracked. His antlers sparked like split wires. He convulsed in agony on the scorched floor, shackled and helpless.

And then—

Everything stopped.

The air froze. Time itself seemed to hesitate. The sigils binding Alastor flickered.

From the upper staircase, a voice deeper than thunder rolled in, calm and absolute:

Lucifer: Unhand that infant.

The agents froze mid-action. One had Calliope half-lifted, her sobbing face contorted in terror—until she looked past him and saw Lucifer descending the stairs.

Lucifer Morningstar. Towering, radiant, and furious.

Lucifer’s eyes gleamed with celestial light as his wings unfurled behind him—red and white. With a flick of his hand, every restraint snapped off Alastor like brittle clay.

Lucifer: You presume to override my daughter’s sovereignty? In my territory?

CPS Agent: *visibly shaken* We—we were acting on orders. The law says—

Lucifer: *coldly* You know nothing of law. You are worms digging at the roots of a world you barely comprehend.

With another gesture, the CPS agents were flung to the walls, suspended midair by invisible chains of celestial authority. Calliope fell—but didn’t hit the ground. She floated gently, as though caught by unseen arms, and then blinked—

—and was cradled safely in Lucifer’s arms.

Calliope: *sniffling* B-baba…?

Lucifer crouched beside Alastor, gently placing the baby back in his arms. Alastor’s hands trembled as he wrapped her up again, barely able to breathe.

And then he stood, facing the agents.

Lucifer: Go back to your Envy Ring. Tell your masters they’ve overstepped. The infant Calliope belongs to no one but her father. And I will see your heads on pikes.

The agents vanished in a plume of static—teleported back to their ring by force. The room was silent again.

Alastor sat there, shaking, cradling Calliope against his chest.

She stopped crying…but Alastor’s tears came out.

[sparksofcalliope]

And the winner is...

#poetry #award #pushcartprize #pushcart #SparksofCalliope #LaurieKuntz #poetrylovers

Sparks of Calliope is pleased to announce its 2024 nomination of “My Father Remembers” by Laurie Kuntz has been selected for inclusion in Pushcart Prize XLIX (2025 edition). Congratulations, Laurie! Read “My Father Remembers” in Sparks of Calliope here. In accordance with the contract provided by Pushcart Press, Sparks of Calliope and Ms. Laurie Kuntz will receive a copy of this edition of…

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

It's Time To Face Reality

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Princess!Reader

Word Count: ~2.7k

Warnings: kidnapping, angst

Summary: You find the courage and strength inside yourself to be the hero for once. With everything over and done with, you have no choice but to go back to your old life and leave the one person who made you feel so alive.

Play Pretend Masterlist

Square Filled: physical toll for @mfbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

“Whatever move you’re going to make, follow through with it. If you’re ever in a situation where you don’t feel safe, the best thing you can do is follow through. If you give them a single spark of weakness, they will strike where it hurts.”

“Ben, I got it. Now punch me,” you grin.

“You’re trouble,” he chuckles.

Ben continues to teach you how to defend yourself if you ever find yourself in a situation where your life is threatened and Ben isn’t there to protect you.

You roll your head to the right and crack what you can to work out the kinks. James had you moved to one of the back bedrooms while they figure out what to do with you. The clock ticking is the only thing you can hear inside the room, reminding you that you have five more hours until they cut off one of your limbs. You’re not sure if they’ll really do that but Ryder is eager to cut into something.

Your arm is getting numb from the way they’ve tied both behind your back. If you don’t escape now, you’re going to suffer a lot. Fuck this. I’m not going to be a damsel in distress. You’re not going to wait to be rescued when you can do it yourself.

Ben taught you better.

Calliope and Elliot arrived in America as soon as they could. They traveled with Kylen and two other guards for their own protection. Spencer tries not to let their presence scare him but it’s intimidating to know the girl he likes has such high security. Calliope hasn’t stopped crying which is understandable while Elliot holds a hard look in his eyes.

“Tell me you know where our daughter is,” Elliot says to Hotch.

“Your Majesty--”

“Please, Elliot. We’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

“Elliot, we’re doing everything we can to find your daughter before anything bad happens. We’re the very best team and we’re working hard.”

“I never wanted this for her,” Calliope cries.

“Your Majesty, James Volkov is the one who took Y/N,” Ben says.

“What can you tell me about him?” Hotch asks.

“His hatred for the Richmond bloodline goes deeper than Y/N. He broke into the palace when she was barely a year old and then again when she was six. It’s why we hired Ben to look after her. Even before I was Queen, he was obsessed with stealing from my family. He’s money and power hungry.”

“My mother was thinking of marrying James’ father even though he wasn’t from a royal bloodline. Our tradition that we’ve upheld for centuries is to marry another from a royal bloodline. He manipulated her into giving him more money than he deserved. Then, she met my father who made her realize what a disgusting person James’ family was,” Elliot explains.

Hotch sighs and looks at the table in thought. They hadn’t wanted to put James’ picture in fear that he’d hurt you earlier than he said he would.

You’re not going to give them the chance to.

After an incredible amount of patience and strength, you were able to get out of your binds. You might have bruising on your wrists from how hard the ropes were digging into your skin but that’s a price you’re willing to pay. You open the door slightly and see everyone huddled together in the living room. Macy is furiously typing on her laptop while the men are talking over one another, trying to keep their voices down.

“What are we going to do if they don’t send it? Are we really going to kill her?” Kellen asks.

“Whatever we have to do,” James says.

“They have our pictures,” Macy says. She turns the laptop to show all five of their pictures on the FBI website. “This changes things.”

“This changes nothing. Do you know how long I’ve evaded the law? We’re going to be fine. The Richmond family does not scare me.”

You’re not going to give them the opportunity to hurt you. You have to escape now. You close the bedroom door slowly and quietly before taking stock of what you have. What would Ben do if he was here? Ben. Spencer. Oh, Spencer. I hope you’re alright.

Spencer comes in with two water bottles and hands them both to the King and Queen of Yacleira.

“Are you going to pay the ransom?” Rossi asks.

“That bastard will not get a penny of my money,” Elliot says angrily.

“He has Y/N, honey,” Calliope says with tears in her eyes.

Elliot sighs as his resolve crumbles away.

“We’ll send them whatever they want.”

Penelope pulls up the email chain that James had used to send them a picture of you along with their ransom demand. Since there is an email attached to it, she can use this as a direct line to them.

“Do you think they’ll take cash? We could schedule a meetup,” Spencer says. “Make them bring Y/N as proof of life.”

Penelope sends the email off, getting another one minutes later.

“They refuse to meet up. They expect the entire thing to be deposited.”

“It’s not going to be easy sending that kind of money in a lump sum,” Hotch sighs.

“Ask them if they’ll take it in payments,” Rossi says.

Penelope sends the email and it’s not long until she gets one back. The emails are projected onto the big screen so that everyone can see their reply.

Only if you want your daughter’s fingers sent to the FBI as punishment.

“Hotch, we need to look at the area where her phone was last.”

“You’re right. Take Morgan, Ben, and Prentiss with you.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll bring her home to you,” Ben promises.

The four of them take a sleek black SUV over to the gas station where your phone was last pinged in. The gas station is on a desolate road heading out of town so it’s not busy. Whoever is working would have to remember you or the people you were with. Derek and Emily go inside to talk to the attendant while Ben and Spencer stay outside.

“You love her, don’t you?” Ben asks.

“I don’t know about love,” Spencer sighs. “All I know is that she’s the first girl in a long time to make me feel so… alive.”

“Yeah, I get it. I had that.”

“What happened?”

“I wasn’t quick enough.”

Spencer doesn’t pry knowing it must hurt to think about not being able to save the person he loved. Derek approaches the attendant who puts her phone down when she notices them.

“Hi, we’re agents Prentiss and Morgan with the FBI. We’re looking for someone we believe came through here.” He takes out a picture of you and shows her. “Have you seen this woman?”

“No.”

“They might have kept her in the car to prevent people from seeing her,” Emily whispers to Derek.

Derek takes out the pictures of Jacob and James and shows her.

“Have you seen these men?”

“Yeah, they came through late last night. They were with two other men and a woman. The woman stayed outside and got gas but the four men came in.”

“Can you describe any of them?” Emily asks, taking out her notepad.

“The woman had short, cropped hair. Red, I think. One of the men had a Justin Beiber haircut with piercings on his lip and eyebrow, and another man had tattoos up and down his arms. Big muscles.”

“Did you notice anything strange about them?”

Spencer walks inside with Ben as the attendant is talking to Derek and Emily.

“They were talking in a language I didn’t recognize. Clearly, they were pissed about something. They practically threw the cash at me when they paid.”

Emily notices a camera placed on the ceiling behind the young woman facing toward the front door and the cash register.

“Does that camera work?”

“Yeah. The owner wanted to get one after the fifth time someone came in trying to steal something.”

“May we look at the footage from last night?”

“Be my guest.”

She moves out of the way so that Spencer can work the cameras. The TV is small and grainy but the camera is good quality so the picture is clearer than the normal CCTVs. Late last night, a large SUV pulls into the gas station and pulls up to one of the pumps. The car is obstructed due to the pump they pulled into and the way the camera is angled. However, the passenger window is shown just enough to see you resting your head against the glass with your eyes closed. They must have drugged you to prevent you from getting away.

The woman gets out of the car and starts pumping gas but she is out of view of the entire frame. Four men walk inside the gas station and try their best not to show their faces on the camera. Either they knew this place only had one camera or they’re paranoid at every place because they might have cameras.

Like the attendant says, they throw the money in her face and leave as fast as possible just as the woman with the red hair finishes with the gas. They all get into the car and peel out as fast as possible. The camera isn’t wide enough to see past the road for a few feet, but Spencer sees the direction they went in.

“Do you have any idea where these guys might have gone?” Derek asks.

“I’m not sure. Like I said, they didn’t speak any English.”

“Is there anything out here?”

“Yeah, the old Garrison farm a few miles up the road. Take a right out of here and it’s literally the first road you see off to the right. It’s a dirt road. They didn’t like many people visiting but the property is a hundred acres give or take a few.”

“Thanks.” They leave the gas station and head back to the car. “Do you think they took her there?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“You don’t think… You don’t think they hurt her, do you?” Ben asks.

“Only one way to find out,” Spencer answers regretfully.

He hopes you’re okay and if you’re not, alive.

You go to the window that’s not boarded up and open it only to be met with a mesh screen. You push on it but there isn’t any give. They might have glued it or did something to prevent it from being kicked out. You look around the room and see clothes hung up in the closet. Clothes that are on wire hangers. You take one of the hangers and bend it until the metal snaps in two. Now you have a sharp side.

You walk back over to the mesh covering and stab it with the sharp end of the hanger. It takes a bit of strength on your part but if you keep at it, you’ll have created a big enough hole for you to jump through. Thankfully, this farmhouse is only one story so you’re not worried about breaking a leg. You’re so focused on creating the tear that you don’t hear the bedroom door open.

“Hey!”

You look behind you to see Kellen standing there with a shocked look on his face. You toss the metal to the side and tear the rest of the mesh with your hands. Just as you fit your leg through it, he pounces on you.

“Let go of me!” you shout loud enough to alert the others.

You fall forward onto the ground so that the only part of you still in the house is your right leg. Kellen has a death grip on your leg but you’re not giving up.

“Guys! Help! She’s escaping!”

You jerk away from him only to use every ounce of strength you have to kick him in the face. He falls back with a shout of pain, letting go of your leg. You fall to the ground but scramble to your feet as soon as you can. You take off running anywhere that’s not this farmhouse. The front door slams open and all five of them filter out of the house in a panic.

“Find her! Bring her to me!” James yells loudly.

You almost trip over the rocks but you keep running until you can’t see the farmhouse anymore.

“You can run all you want, princess, but we’ll find you. You won’t like what happens when we do!” Jacob shouts.

It’s so dark outside that you’re not sure where you’re going but that’s not going to stop you from running. Thankfully, you can see the trees so you’re not smacking into them. Your heart is racing at the thought of being caught. What if there is nothing around for miles? Are you really going to keep running without knowing what’s out there? What if you’re in their domain and there are more dangerous people out there?

No, don’t think like that. Your lungs are begging to relax and your legs are burning but you won’t stop running. In the distance you see headlights, and being there is a lot better than being with James. You run toward them in hopes that whoever is behind the wheel is friendly. You push through the thick shrubs and fall to the ground right in front of the car. It screeches to a stop before it can hit you, and you put your hand up to block the bright headlights.

“Please, help me.”

“Y/N!”

All four doors open and four people come clambering out of the car. You look up and see two familiar sets of eyes looking back.

“Spencer? Ben?”

“We’re right here. You’re safe now,” Ben says.

“They’re out there looking for me right now. There’s a farmhouse up the road.”

“Come on.”

Spencer and Ben help you into the back of the car just as Emily and Derek get back in the front. They turn the headlights off and lowly trek back to the farmhouse while still staying in the shadows. Derek and Emily get out while Ben and Spencer stay in the back with you. You faintly hear Derek call for immediate backup, and you lean your head on the headrest tiredly.

Spencer looks at you and wants to apologize but nothing comes out. You’ll have time to reconnect later. Backup comes quickly which is enough to arrest all five individuals involved. They’re brought back to the BAU where you discover your parents are. Your mom and dad run over to you, and you run into their arms with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry for leaving,” you cry. “I didn't mean for all of this to happen.”

“We’re glad you’re okay, baby. You’re safe now,” your mom says.

The paramedics met you at the BAU to assess your injuries which are minor. You were treated for your bruised wrists and the small cuts on your face from the branches. You and Spencer stand off to the side while your parents are with Ben, Kylen, and the rest of the BAU.

“I’d like to take all five of them back to Yacleira if possible. They will face Yacleiran justice,” Elliot says.

“Of course,” Hotch nods. “Interpol will be notified of this as well.”

“I’ll call my contacts,” Emily offers.

You look at your parents and sigh sadly. You know what’s coming next. They know you’re here and it’s not like they will leave without you. You’re old school. They won’t break tradition for you.

“I’m sorry for keeping this a secret from you.”

“No, don’t be. I shouldn’t have left.”

“Spencer, I can’t stay here. My parents will be taking me back to Yacleira where I’m to marry Prince Henry of Vosharia. I thought… well, I thought I was the type of girl who could have what everyone else had. It doesn’t matter anymore, I guess.”

“It’ll always matter.”

“Not to someone like me.” You pull Spencer in to kiss him, and he kisses you back like it’s the last kiss you’ll ever share. Maybe it will be. The thought breaks your heart. “No matter what happens, Spencer, you were the best thing to ever happen to me.”

You look at the briefing room and see both your parents watching you and Spencer. He hates to see you walk out of his life but what can he do when the King and Queen of Yacleira calls back their Princess?

He stands on the side and lets it happen. What’s a man like him going to be able to provide for a woman like you?

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[serbarris]

Dragon Age: the Veilguard: Modern AU Pairing: F!Rook Ingellvar x Emmrich Volkarin  Rating: M, will be E soon Words: 1100 Summary: Emmrich Volkarin has been a civil servant for nearly 30 years. He intended to be an instrumental force in making real change across the country. Calliope ‘Rook’ Ingellvar was stuck in a job that brought her no joy. Now, she is the head of office for Minister Lavellan, right in the heart of Thedas’ government. He's disenfranchised, but she’s keen to change the world. The wheels of government turn slowly, but their relationship is anything but. Read on AO3

Thursday 12th Justinian

The invite began in 5 minutes.

It's fine. She just had to ask another private secretary to hold down the fort, keep an eye on Minister Lavellan’s appointments, and make sure that bit of legislation got signed and get them to start printing off the documents for him to review overnight. All the while, she spent an hour with Emmrich. Outside the building. Doing ‘mentoring.’ Whatever that was supposed to mean. She hoped it was code for 'snogging each other's faces off.’

She had passed him in the corridor earlier. She was on her way to another meeting with Vaimah, and he was walking with colleagues. His deep purple suit stood out amongst the prosaic navy and grey that was so commonplace. He caught her eye, head dipping in a customary nod, the corner of his mouth lifting in the slightest of smiles before he was pulled into conversation. He passed close enough for Calliope to smell his cologne and feel his fingers ghost over her arm in the lightest of touches. It took her back to the cemetery. He held her so gently in contrast to their fervent first kiss a few weeks ago. She ached to feel his touch again, to be surrounded by his warmth. He frequented her thoughts, especially at night, when she would imagine it was his long fingers trailing down her body. It had only been a few days since they kissed in the cemetery, but those were a whirlwind of activity. Nightmare Fog had once again appeared near Caimen Brea, requiring Minister Lavellan to address several urgent questions in front of the Bannorns. It had been nearly a week. It felt longer.

Emmrich already stood outside as she scanned her ID to leave the building. He cut a striking figure leaning against concrete flower planters full of pansies, his suit matching some of the blooms. Her lanyard was shoved into her handbag, and she held it with a vice-like grip to prevent herself from reaching out. Anticipation fluttered in her belly as she made her way over to him, but she stopped a respectful distance from him and guarded the wide smile that threatened to break free.

“Hello dear, come on—I know a place.” With a wink, he led the way, expertly navigating the busy streets of Hunter Fell. Calliope tried to keep a bit of distance between them. The office took up much of the street, and any number of MOURN staff could bump into them on their coffee runs. But still she gravitated towards him, their hands brushing against each other at the crossing, sending sparks of electricity up her arm.

The place turned out to be a small Antivan bakery. It had a warm and inviting interior, full of plush armchairs and sofas, soft indigo curtains, and dark wooden tables. The smell of fresh, buttery pastries awoke Calliope's stomach and reminded her of the long-forgotten lunch that sat on her desk. The man at the counter was a hair taller than Calliope, with dark hair and tanned skin. “Emmrich, good to see you. Who is the lovely signora?” He had a rich Antivan accent that lingered on his words, drawing them out. Calliope introduced herself (as a co-worker). Apparently, Emmrich and Lucanis went way back. Emmrich got his ‘usual,’ and Calliope, at his insistence, got a latte as “Lucanis makes the best coffee in the city.” She could feel his eyes dissecting her and her proximity to Emmrich, especially as Emmrich’s hand settled into the small of her back.

Lucanis nodded for them to go upstairs, promising to bring their drinks up when they were ready. Upstairs, plush sofas and chairs in the same style were arranged around tables. Huge windows allowed sunlight into the room, casting an ethereal glow through the many panes of glass. Emmrich guided her to a secluded corner, a teal sofa that would be mostly blocked in view by a large armchair should anyone scan the room. They sank into the cushions, once again keeping an appropriate distance, Calliope’s hands folded on her lap, fingers fidgeting with her gold rings. She broke this habit a long time ago. It was an easy tell for her nerves, and yet Emmrich’s presence had brought it back out.

“I’m sorry I put this in at the last minute.” His warm hand covered hers, stilling her writhing fingers, but her breath caught in her throat. “I saw we both had space in our calendars and took the opportunity to see you again.”

“Should we be… Is it safe here?” She whispered. Her heart thumped quickly, whether with the thrill of their meeting or anxiety over being caught, she couldn’t tell.

“I’ve been coming here for years and rarely see a soul upstairs, let alone another civil servant.”

His thumb stroked across her knuckles, and Calliope felt like she could finally breathe. “So I can kiss you?”

“Well, one should make the most of our time before our minister has any wild policy ideas." He smirked, closing the gap between them. Her lips met his without fear, not tenderly, but not bruising. As if the moment were a dream that could be shattered, and she wanted to leave her mark on his soul.

“The churros are on the house.” Calliope and Emmrich broke apart, softly cursing. Calliope's face flushed furiously, unwilling to look at Lucanis, as Emmrich thanked him for the generosity.

“Why don't you come to mine for dinner tomorrow?” I promise there will be no interruptions from rain or nosy baristas.”

[ninibeingdelulu]

A…date ? ✧

Plot: Your childhood friend ask you on a date.

A/N: @a-view-without-light-pollution I hope you’ll like it (I think it’s bad bc it needs more details but anyway) enjoyy xoxo.

From the first instant Zack showed up at your doorstep fidgeting like a hyperactive puppy, you could tell his normally boundless confidence was fraying hard at the edges.

All jittery hand gestures and flushed cheeks as he flashed those baby blues pleading silent messages.

"Heyy...uh listen, I was wondering if ya maybe wanted to, y'know, grab a burger with me later on?"

He finally blurted, scratching at those wild raven spikes crowning his head.

You arched an eyebrow, fighting back an adoring grin at how freaking adorable this human Golden Retriever was acting.

"Zack...we do that literally every other day already. Are you trying to ask me on an actual date here, mister SOLDIER Boy Scout?"

Brilliant crimson exploded across his chiseled features as a strangled noise escaped those plush lips.

He exhaled a shuddering breath, squaring those broad shoulders back as if preparing to charge into battle before nodding decisively.

"Yeah...I am. I really am asking you out on a legit date."

His glowing azure gaze caught yours with an intensity leaving you suddenly breathless.

"Getting all awkward about it won't do either of us any good though, right? Let's just keep it chill like always and have an awesome time."

That trademark sunny grin stretching dimples into those stubble-chapped cheeks was enough to melt anyone's reservations as you found yourself quickly nodding back.

"Definitely, Zack. Count me in - but I expect you to bring your flirting A-game!"

And bring it he did - that charismatic son of a bitch.

From snagging you a stuffed moomba at the carnival shooting range then refusing to relinquish you from under his arm for the rest of the night.

To dramatically serenading you with a botched rendition of "Starlight, Starbright" under the moonlit beach gazebo while passing tipsy couples howled laughter.

Everything felt so achingly, dizzyingly right.

Like this was the inevitable conclusion your lives together were always building toward...however unintentionally.

No more excruciating uncertainty or unrequited longing to agonize over. Just sinking into the warm, radiant glow of Zack's megawatt joy showering over you without restraint.

He was still unapologetically himself, of course. Full of wisecracks and theatrical shenanigans which only strengthened his magnetic charm in your eyes.

Yet now he'd occasionally stumble over his words or allow that velvet baritone to dip into husky dulcet purrs specifically for your ears alone.

Or the way his fingers innocently grazed yours, fingertips sparking little zings of electricity jolting straight to your core while flashing those bedroom eyes assessing your reaction with ardent hunger behind half-mast lids...

All too soon, the carnival lights and jaunty calliope music faded into late-evening stillness encasing you both.

Scuffing boots through sleepy lamp-lit lanes back toward home feeling weightless and intoxicated simply from his nearness.

Drunk on that inexhaustible charisma surrounding you in Zack's personal aura like wafting summer bonfire warmth.

Occasionally lapsing into hushed stretches you leaned in savoring the tactile crackle between close-orbit bodies before erupting into fresh peals of laughter over some locker-room wisecrack.

Until sneaking hesitant sidelong glances revealed his features backlit golden in flickering streetlamp radiance...expression stilled into a look you didn't recognize yet always dreamed of receiving from Zack.

Pure unguarded open adoration emanating in his gaze like you were the only thing in existence worthy of such singular focus.

Your footfalls stopped on instinct, swallowing thickly as those eyes roamed across your face in hungry, aching sweeps you felt tingling upon your skin like physical caresses.

Until Zack closed the short gap separating you in an achingly gradual drift - telegraphing his intent with everything but his voice.

Calloused fingertips glided across your jaw up to cradle your cheekbone with searing gentleness utterly at odds with his rugged stature.

Zack's bottom lip trembled for just a fraction of an instant before your name exhaled from between them in a ravished whisper devoid of the usual bravado.

All you could do was nod mutely and reciprocate the blazing tenderness reflected back at him.

Until those vivid mako irises fluttered shut in blissful surrender...

And you tilted up on tiptoe to lay the whisper-soft pressure of your lips in a gossamer brush across the corner of his own chiseled, perfect mouth.

Just enough for Zack's entire musculature to go rigid as scorching fire flooded his chiseled features - every single one of those battle-hardened sinews vibrating on the verge of deliciously shattering apart at your featherlight touch.

A barely audible whimper sighed out from the deepest caverns of his broad chest before stormy cobalt eyes flew wide in helpless stupefaction.

You drank in every minute tremor and nuance rupturing across Zack's statuesque handsomeness for endless suspended heartbeats...committing the details to permanent memory.

Until finally smiling wider than you ever had in recollection while he just gaped at you in stunned bliss unable to formulate words.

Reality no longer mattered in that divine slice of infinity cradled between you.

Only the dawning awareness of irrevocable, undeniable intimacy blazed in those locked pools of swirling cerulean endlessly dazzling.

[vexwerewolf]

Do you think IGF is a good module to introduce Lancer as a game and setting to people who've never heard of it?

At first I was leaning towards yes because I thought the remote setting would allow the player characters to know little of the wider world and discover it at their own pace.

Like, if a player asks me what Union is, instead of trying to compress their whole history I could say "it's this big supernational government that rules most of humanity. To hear them, they're bringing a post-scarcity utopia to the stars, but in practice what you've seen of them is the free Omninode at the center of Calliope and the carrier that defends it. You've also heard they have a representative on the Icebreaker"

Except that Calliope has its own heap of lore, and I'm starting to think it just might not be a good fit for a quick introduction.

Not to be too self-promotional, but... yes! I think IGF can be a good module to introduce players to the game with.

I don't necessarily think a setting "having a lot of lore" is a serious problem. You just summarized Union in a paragraph. Calliope's essential lore can be summarized the same way.

"A stellar cartography mission mistakenly marked the system as having two paradise worlds, sparking a gold rush as various factions scrambled to colonize it. Unwilling to admit their mistake when they found it barren, several corporations tried and failed to make it profitable, eventually abandoning it or going out of business. Three hundred years down the line, it's a crummy backwater on the fringes of galactic civilization, paying host to all manner of outcasts, fugitives and ne'er-do-wells - including you. It's not much, but it's home."

You can reveal the setting's lore as you run through the campaign. You don't need to dump it on them all at once, unless they ask for it, in which case they're engaged and that's an absolute win.

[utterlyvertigo]

— | The Old Therebefore | —

————— Agatha Spoilers —————

Dear Marvel,

Fuck you for killing Alice.

Disrespectfully,

UtterlyVertigo.

———————————————

Here’s some sad Episode 5 content. ❤️❤️

———————————————

It was a blur, a terrible, horrible blur. Alice’s limp form had crumpled onto the ground, drained and devastated.

“We should have left her.” Jen sneered. Her body was warm with anger and she could almost her power pulsing in her, wrestling to break its bounds. Lilia stands stoic, her mind racing, anywhere but right there. “Stop being a bitch Jen!” Cassandra yelled, striding towards her, with pulsing energy in her hands, “FOR ONCE KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!” Her voice was hoarse, she’d been screaming. Cassandra looked at Jen, with a flurry of feelings. Anger, hurt, sympathy. She dropped her guard and walked off.

Agatha’s breathing was rapid and scared, and that was abnormal. “I couldn’t control it!” She begged. Teen stood there, shaking his head, “Don’t lie to me Agatha!” He was angry too, everyone was, everyone hated seeing that. Seeing poor Alice. Cassandra left the trial last, closing her eyelids, draping an eyesore of a patterned cloth over Alice. She also took Alice’s necklace. Something to bury, something to remember her by.

“Teen please, my mum is right! We can’t control it!” Cassandra pleaded, standing her place firmly in front of the hollow shell of Agatha. “We?” Lilia whispered, looking Cass up and down, almost in disbelief that the girl before her could drain magic with just as much cruelty as her mother. “You neglected to mention that.” Jen quipped. “I didn’t see it necessary to. And it isn’t necessary! Teen I promise you, we all loved Alice! You didn’t mean it, did you mum?”

Agatha remained hollow eyed and silent.

“Did you…?”

Agatha wasn’t given time to so much as open her mouth as a crackle of magic sparked from Teen. It was cobalt, bright and powerful, it made no sense. Until it did! “Billy?” Cassandra gasped. “Calliope.” The name came off of his lips like it was some kind of curse. “What’s he talking about? What do you know?” Blurs of questions came from the ensemble behind them. “Don’t hurt my mother, please-” Cassandra begged, but Agatha stopped her. “He’s just like his mother. He doesn’t listen to reason.” That didn’t stop Cass.

“I… trust you.” She said, holding her hand out. A truce, peace. “I trust you Billy. And so did Alice,” She added, “she trusted us all, and that trust was well placed. I know it was. If you just let us explain-”

Jen and Lilia took screaming Agatha by an arm each. Teen’s magic circled his hands, watching as Cassandra attempted to tug Agatha out of their grip. The blast of bright blue magic shot towards Agatha, still wrestling her way out, to no avail. She winced, worried, terrified that she might claim another body. But it never hit.

At least it never hit Agatha.

“No witch in their right mind will ever trust a Harkness. And that includes you, Cass, no matter what surname you take.”

The scream that escaped Agatha was gut wrenching, one only a mother could. The Road’s thick muddy floor quickly engulfed the scared and crying Cassandra. “You can be good! We can do this! We can be-”

Agatha was the next to fall, screaming and begging for forgiveness, she didn’t know her crimes in Salem, she control her crimes now.

“Did… we have to take the little one too, Teen?” Lilia asked, looking the boy in the eyes. His eyes were cold, his eyes were mean. Lilia and Jen felt the sharp pushback, and pleaded the same volume of forgiveness.

The crown formed over his head.

If Alice couldn’t survive, if Sharon was left for dead, why should they survive?

————————————

RIP Alice Wu Gulliver

“Maybe the miracle was getting to spend just one moment with you.” - Taylor Swift

[childhood-seas]

"Hello, Mortals!!! My name is Neolea, Goddess of Childhood and Protector of Innocence. "

"And I'm her loving wife, Nafdolo~"

"Just call us Neo and Naf for short!"

"Why did you want us to create this blog again, darling?"

"I thought it would be fun!!! All the other gods have blogs, I wanted one too!"

"Alright, let's go~"

____

Neolea

Age: why do you wanna know?~

Role: Goddess of Childhood, Protector of innocence

Heritage: Hebe

Backstory: Hebe created me because she noticed children were maturing too fast! I exist to protect the innocence and spark of children.

______

Nafdolo

Age: 28

Role: Siren, wife of Neolea (goddess of childhood).

Heritage: The Siren Calliope (sirenelope). My father was a drowned sailor.

Backstory: I don't need to tell you. This is private information.

____

People we know!!!

@totally-penelope-and-not-a-siren - "my mother..."

@hebe-goddess-of-youth - "my mom!!!"

@destined-and-fate-for-greatness - "Piece of shit"

@taken-by-the-seas - "my younger brother"

DO interract:

EPIC blogs, PJO/Riordanverse blogs, Greek Mythology blogs, oc blogs from any Greek mythology extended universe, Anons, etc.

DNI: Transphobes, Homophobes, P*dophiles, money beggers, R*pists and anyone under this category. Also no NSFW blogs, I prefer not to interract with any blogs with explicit material!

Neolea and Nafdolo are NOT real gods, I'm just a writer and I apologize for any Hellenists who are offended by this blog, this is all made for fun and I do not mean to harm anyone when in or out of character!