echoesofcalypso

[echoesofcalypso]

my entry for the orv contest on izepress. i am a little late but i managed it on time

[echoesofcalypso]

Happy pride month~! Have this meme I made of my newest/oldest persona :))

- [Calypso Reverie🥀]

[echoesofcalypso]

Title: Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.

Summary:

Kim Dokja sleeps. Shin Yoosung grows. Lee Gilyoung learns. The world doesn’t stop— but maybe, for just a moment, they can pretend it’s okay.

Kim Dokja hasn’t moved in years.

The hospital room is warm and quiet, with soft light filtering through the window. The machines hum softly. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, as if nothing ever changed.

But the world has. The scenarios ended. The stars went quiet. Peace returned, if peace can ever truly return to people like them.

Shin Yoosung stands by the window, arms crossed, hair tangled from sleep. It brushes her shoulders now, too long– too messy. She never used to care about her hair. She was a beast tamer, a fighter, a survivor. She had other things to worry about.

But lately, she keeps thinking about it.

She sees Yoo Mia one morning, laughing quietly while Yoo Joonghyuk braids her hair. It’s something so small, so domestic. Something from a world that shouldn't belong to them. Something gentle.

She hates how it makes her feel.

So she lets her hair grow.

At first, she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it for him. Kim Dokja. The idiot. Their idiot. The one who used to fumble with his hands and brush her hair back awkwardly when it got in her eyes during battle. Who never said the right thing but always meant it anyway.

She brushes it herself now. She watches it grow in the mirror. She waits.

“If– No, when. When he wakes up,” she thinks, “he can braid it again.”

One day, she visits him, and something breaks.

“You’re still not back,” she whispers, voice shaking. “You said you wouldn’t leave. You said you’d always be watching.”

She cries, forehead against the side of his bed. Her hair spills over her shoulders like a curtain. It tangles in her fingers. The strands brushing against Kim Dokja’s unmoving hand.

Lee Gilyoung stands in the doorway, silent.

“You’re crying again,” he says.

“Shut up,” she spits. “You don’t get it.”

But he does. And she knows.

He doesn’t say anything more. He just leaves.

—

The next day, Lee Gilyoung shows up at Yoo Sangah’s doorstep.

“Teach me how to braid hair,” he mutters, awkward and stiff.

Yoo Sangah looks up from her tea, blinking behind her glasses. “Oh. Is this… for Shin Yoosung?”

He doesn’t answer, but the flush on his face says enough.

She smiles gently and sets her cup down. “Come in. I’ll show you. You know, I used to practice on my cousins’ hair when we were little.”

As she demonstrates, she talks softly. “Yoosung’s changed a lot, hasn’t she? We all have. It’s strange—after everything, we get quiet days like this. I never thought peace would feel so empty.”

Gilyoung doesn’t say anything. His hands are clumsy as he mimics her movements, but she corrects him gently, never laughing, only guiding.

“You’re doing this because you care. You don’t have to say it.” She gives him a knowing look. “He’d be proud, you know. Kim Dokja.”

He doesn’t look up. But his hands pause, just for a second.

“You’re doing this for Shin Yoosung, aren’t you?” she asks gently.

He doesn’t answer.

She doesn’t press.

“I think it’s good,” she says instead. “Doing something kind. You know… Dokja-ssi once told me that small things matter more after the end. A braid. A cup of tea. A warm room.”

She watches him struggle and adjusts his grip. “Peace is made of things like this.”

—

Next, he finds Jung Heewon.

“You want to braid hair?” she repeats, arms crossed.

“Yes.”

“For Yoosung?”

He shrugs. “Not your business.”

“Everything’s my business when it comes to the company’s kids,” she says flatly. “Come on, sit.”

She yanks over a chair and pulls out a hairbrush and a spare wig head.

As she braids, her fingers deft and quick, she says, “You know, after the scenarios ended, I thought I’d go back to being normal. But there’s no ‘normal’ left, is there?”

“No.”

She chuckles. “Yeah. You get it. Anyway, hair’s just like a sword technique. Get the tension right. Don’t hesitate. Be gentle, but firm.”

Gilyoung follows, quietly focused.

“You’ll never say it to her, huh?” she asks after a beat.

“No.”

She grins. “That’s fine. She knows. You both do.”

He tries. The braid is ugly. Lumpy.

“Do you think Dokja would laugh at this?” he asks suddenly.

Heewon shrugs, but there’s a flicker in her eyes. “He’d probably say it’s good. Then try to fix it behind your back and pretend you did it right all along.”

She smirks, wipes sweat from her brow. “He always did stuff like that. Quiet help. Too quiet.”

Gilyoung says, “I don’t want it to be quiet anymore.”

She nods once. “Then make it loud. Make the braid perfect.”

—

Uriel sobs the moment he shows up.

“My precious reader’s child is LEARNING DOMESTIC SKILLS?!”

“Stop crying.”

“TELL ME NOTHING MORE! I ALREADY KNOW! LET ME BLESS YOUR FINGERS!”

“No.”

He lets her do it anyway. She doesn’t teach him much— mostly she cries and raves about how proud Kim Dokja would be, how he surely watches over them still, and how the braid will be a symbol of divine storytelling.

She conjures glowing strands of golden thread, each shining like starlight.

“Each thread represents something sacred. Protection. Care. Hope. You weave them together, and what do you get?”

Gilyoung answers flatly. “A braid.”

“A promise,” she corrects.

He weaves. Slowly. Carefully.

She watches with pride and a surprising solemnity.

“Uriel’s voice softens. “Joonghyuk’s way was quiet love. Dokja’s way was quiet love. But your love? It’s loud enough to shake the stars.”

Gilyoung’s hands still. “Do you think he knew how much we loved him back?”

Uriel looks away.

Somehow, Gilyoung leaves with sparkles on his hands.

He doesn’t question it.

—

Lee Jihye greets him with a wide smirk.

“This is rich. You, trying to braid hair?”

“Shut up.”

“Nah, I love this. Want me to teach you the combat braid?”

“No.”

“What about the intimidation braid? The ‘don’t mess with me or I’ll stab you’ one?”

“…Maybe.”

She gives him a real lesson, surprisingly thorough. She talks while braiding— about Dokja-hyung, about how the silence in the city feels like a hole too big to patch.

“He used to do dumb little things like this, y’know,” she says. “Take care of people when they weren’t looking. You remind me of him, sometimes.”

He pretends he doesn’t hear.

—

Finally, Persephone invites him into a quiet, candlelit room. Her lair is full of old tapestries and flowers that never wilt.

“My darling boy,” she coos, cupping his face. “Learning the ancient art of care…! How beautiful.”

“I’m not your grandson.”

“You are now.”

She teaches him an intricate braid she claims comes from a line of queens who used to crown themselves with woven flowers. He listens, despite himself.

“In ancient times,” she tells him, “a braid was a way to preserve a piece of someone. A prayer in each knot. An oath not to forget.”

He hesitates, voice quiet. “I’m afraid I will.”

She presses a warm hand to his shoulder. “Then tie your memory into every strand. And even if he never wakes, even if she never says thank you, the memory will be in your fingers.”

She has silken wigs of every color, and teaches him delicate lace braids—intricate, precise.

“You must braid with intention,” she says, voice low. “With hope. Otherwise, it’ll fall apart.”

“Hope,” he repeats. “What for?”

“That the world will keep going. That we will keep going.”

She cups his cheek one last time and whispers, “Tell Yoosung he doesn’t need to wake up to be proud of her.”

—

Even with all that, something still feels off. The tension of his fingers. The shape of it.

He grits his teeth and does what he swore he wouldn’t.

The man answers with a frown. “What?”

“I need your help.”

“Unlikely.”

“…With braiding hair.”

Joonghyuk stares.

“You know,” Gilyoung says flatly, “for someone with the emotional depth of a rock, you braid hair pretty well. I know you know how. Yoo Mia said you do it for her.”

A pause.

“Why?”

“Because Kim Dokja can’t. And she’s waiting.”

“…Fine.”

He shows him once. Then twice. Then again, correcting the posture of his fingers, the pull of the strands.

They don’t talk about Dokja.

They don’t have to.

The silence is reverent.

Gilyoung copies. He makes mistakes. Joonghyuk corrects him with a nod, a brush of fingers.

They speak only once.

Joonghyuk says, “He would have liked this.”

Gilyoung just nods once and walks away.

But his hands, this time, don’t shake.

When Lee Gilyoung returns, he finds Yoosung on the roof, hair in a messy ponytail, swatting at mosquitoes.

“I’m cutting it,” she announces.

“No, you’re not,” he cuts her off.

She glares. “Oh, and why not?”

“Because I’m going to braid it.”

She blinks. Then laughs. “You? Seriously?”

“Sit down, or I’m shaving your head.”

She sits.

It’s quiet as he works. His fingers move carefully. She doesn’t squirm.

“This is weird,” she mutters.

“You’re weird.”

He finishes without another word. Ties it off. Stands. Leaves.

She touches her hair, surprised by the neatness. The way it feels like something steady. Something kind.

Later, when she visits Kim Dokja again, she doesn’t say much. Just sits beside him.

The braid rests over her shoulder.

“See?” she murmurs. “You don’t have to worry.”

Outside, the world moves on.

Inside, in this room, something still waits.

And for now, that’s enough.

[ written by: Calypso Reverie🥀 ]

Tell me if you'd like to be tagged for my next post/fanfic post!! 😉😉

(Ao3 version of this fic drop later/soon!! >3<)

[echoesofcalypso]

oh my gosh thank you for 40 followers??

HI OMG i never thought i would reach this far but awoefhaoweuhfoawhe THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!! im writing--i promise--its just super busy in my life atm!!

here are two excerpts from my two latest works in progress from my asks!

1) kc!ronin x artist reader

When you had clicked the ‘accept call’ option, you didn’t expect to be so enamoured by the devil, who peered in his swivel gaming chair, posters decorating the blood-red walls around him.

You sat there, mouth slightly agape for a few beats, simply taking in the epitome of a painting of a thousand words that was behind a web camera. This was the first time you had ever thought a grotesque serial killer known for fucking up the bodies beyond repair looked beautiful.

Atop his burgundy hair sat a striped gray beanie with two red horns standing tall on the fabric. Piercings adorned his ears, industrial on the left and double lobe on the right. His neck was decorated with a collar imbued with spikes, and a necklace with a sword charm that vaguely resembled a cross. He wore a simple black shirt with a skull graphic on the front, a leather jacket spilling from his elbows. You don’t fail to notice the varying pins he’s stuck onto his clothes to make them feel more like him, as well as the bracelets that peek out from his sleeve.

“Aw, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for me already?”

Ronin’s voice barely snaps you out of the trance he’s put you in. You’re in-and-out of your loops when you two talk over voice call, your eyes piercing into him, trying to capture his essence into the back of your head.

You bite your lip and curse yourself internally. There was no scrap paper lying around, and your sketchbook was laying on your bed. Deemed too suspicious to go and get it right now, you decide you’re better off trying to memorize what Ronin looks like.

When, at last, he ends the video call, you scramble for a mechanical pencil and hit your bed with a loud thump. Your hand moves on its own, drawing quick strokes, in an almost-obsessive manner. You draw Ronin with such precision that you can’t comprehend that you just met him 15 minutes ago.

You need more.

2) gg!thernin x artist reader that gets in a lot of trouble (a combo of two separate asks!)

It started as a joke, you swear.

You loved drawing whatever catches your eye these days, making sure to put your signature sinister twist to it. Pure white lilies doused in red, the corpses of a couple in their wedding attire in the center. Hands around someone’s neck, laughing, maniacal and batshit insane, the look of love in their eyes. Corrupted angels standing beside Lucifer himself, sweet and rotten—you adored making sure your drawings told stories and spoke of poems to the viewer.

It was, in its own way, a healthy anger release mechanism for you.

You passed by Etheriality’s campaign poster in the halls. They truly were beautiful, ginger locks perfectly framing their face, light blue eyes and the most captivating smile you’ve ever seen.

The more you analyze their expression, the more it comes to you that it looks…fake in a way.

Shrugging your shoulders, you head outside, willing to get fresh air. As you go down the stairs, a tall boy walks by you, hair bleached white and in all-black, and you momentarily halt as shivers went down your spine.

Maybe this was when the rot started to consume you.

You leaned against a tree, shielding yourself from the rays of the sun. Absent-mindedly sketching on your notebook, you try your best to draw the many things you’ve seen today. A teacher talking about chemistry, the familiar shape of a prom queen’s emotions, a dead rat you saw splattered on the pavement, a black hoodie worn by the devil—

Your eyes scanned the page, holding your sketchbook up. You tilt it in your hands as you admire Ms. Popular and Mr. Edgy. An idea implants itself in your head, rooting itself in your desires and growing guns and roses.

That was when you had started drawing the two together. The epitome of perfection and the amalgamation of pride. Their beauty combined was like no other. Illustrations of them flooded the pages of your sketchbook. Oftentimes, you depicted them in such a domestic and intimate way that you completely disregarded your signature sinister twist in your drawings.

The bell rings, and the students around you all shuffle quickly to get out the door. You quickly stuff your supplies in your bag and head toward the crowd.

SO YEAH!! it was super fun to write this--they arent finished yet, but hey! stay tuned for the future fics ;P

[echoesofcalypso]

Meet Calypso Reverie ~ ! 🎸

I couldn't choose between the white or black leg warmers — which do you guys think looks better?🎵

[echoesofcalypso]

OMNISCIENT READER'S VIEWPOINT FANFIC IDEA RAMBLING

Okay, so hear me out -- ALST x ORV crossover --

Dokja, (+ Joonghyuk and Co. who are adults) get sent to the ALST universe long before the first round (maybe due to a scenario?) . Either while the ALST main cast were still in the ANAKT Garden so they meet them as little kids, or before the Alien Stage competition starts. They could be rebels, OR they could've somehow infiltrated the stage as part of said competition and messed up the pairings. SO, for example, Sangah could go up against Mizi in the first round or Sua and Sooyoung.

Anyways, it'd be really funny because knowing the KIMCOM, they'd probably somehow stop the entire thing before any serious harm come towards the ALST main cast. (or they could still die and be angst, especiallu for Mizi.) And also it'd be reeeeaaaally funnyy to see Joonghyuk interact with Ivan and Luka. Because Ivan is basically Joongdok's lovechild and Luka is kinda like Nirvana.

[echoesofcalypso]

My glorious king Till

Kicking off 2025 with one of my favorite characters ever 🙂‍↕️

Till’s alive and well guys, trust 😝

[echoesofcalypso]

Found a new banger writer to fan over (huge fan now by the way) — 🥀

Hiiii, i was just wondering if you can write a ronin x reader where reader had actually accidentally killed someone back then out of anger bcs they've had it with that person and ronin found out

(I ACCIDENTALLY WROTE 2000 WORDS FOR THIS ONE.)

(but hey! here ya go!)

WARNING: Mentions of Murder, Blood, Gore-y stuff in general.

Devilish

It's always been easy for you to stomach slasher movies.

Post-graduation, your beloved friends would constantly pester you, asking you to join them for their gore-ish movie nights, which consisted of none other than A-grade thrillers and horror films.

You recall how your eyes would remain locked on the screen, observing the killer, watching how they move with such ease, such delicacy and ruthlessness. The main character, so sweet and innocent and naive, no matter how far they run, the killer would reach them—reach for their throat, their head, and slice it open with a knife, or an axe, or some other mundane object with a blade.

Your friends would scream. They would jump, yell, screech, flinch at the sight of it, but you didn't. You never did. They always took the liberty of hiding behind you in a haunted house, clung onto you when they felt scared, shivering and sore from running through strung-up props from some human anatomy playset.

You've seen this scene before. It's become a cliche for you. The image of blood, gore, intestines, organs, splattered all over the pavement doesn't make you want to retch, to imitate them and pour your guts out in the nearest bathroom. You've seen worse. For a writer with serial killers for friends, at least.

At least once a week, there's a new message in the server's #killer_shit channel. Sometimes it's Angel, a wide portrait with the lifeless body of a man in a suit, a gunshot wound to his head, pale and eyes rolled back. Sometimes it's Misaki, a selfie with half of their face in it, and a deformed figure of a human in the background, teeth pulled out and fingers cut off.

More often, it's Ronin. He's the reason for why you've built your constitution for such wicked imagery. The unfamiliar shape of a person curled into a satanic circle, carved pentagrams into skin and stomachs gutted out. Bodies hung, skinned, decapitated, bloody and bare and brutal. The first time you saw the absolute crime scene he left behind, your stomach churned, uncomfortable and weary, as if it were the next thing on Ronin's hit list.

Ah, well. You're a writer. You've gotten used to writing your serial-killer protagonist. That's all.

It's mostly a lie. It hasn't always been easy for you to see the familiar maroon-stained weapons and fucked-up corpses.

You swallow the thought back down your throat and into your stomach. Part of you starts hoping that maybe Ronin would kill you, he is in the area after all, but you've passed that obstacle in your relationship a few weeks ago, when you chose to kiss him and all his entirety.

Six years had passed since then. No witnesses, a wrecked crime scene, and the body was never found. A perfect crime. Your perfect crime.

You were afraid it would come up again.

Unfortunately for you, the world is not beautiful, nor kind, nor considerate. It comes up on a simple Tuesday morning. The clock reads 3:33 AM, the Devil's hour. Alas, who else to absolve you of your sin but Lucifer himself?

"Well seeing as how I picked dare last time and almost got caught by the police–" Misaki started, earning a few snickers from the people in the call, "I choose truth."

Ronin was their dealer, an honest mistake on everyone's part. He was unpredictable, impossible to read, especially in games that involved a lot of thinking, as if he saw right through you. Everyone stayed silent, curious as to what crazy idea he'll say next.

"Hey, I'll hit ya up with an easy one this time." His voice rang through your ears, sarcastic and teasing. You ease up after hearing his stupidly hilarious pun and how he'll give Misaki an easy question. "The Devil wants to know if ya had a serial killer experience b'fore you became one. 's all."

"Oh! Actually, there is one!" Misaki exclaimed. “When I was a wee child, back in high school, I think? We had this exchange program, so I got to go abroad for a bit. There was this guy in my class, a massive freaking bully—and when I say bully, I don’t just mean wedgies, oh no. I mean that this guy was a total monster. He beat people up so bad he almost killed them.” Their hands moved as they explained, making the flashback much more interesting than it seemed.

V coughed. “You don’t suppose he’s ever received juvenile detention?”

Misaki shook their head. “No…no, he disappeared.”

You didn’t like where this conversation was headed. “What happened?” you asked, faking your curiosity. You cared much for Misaki, but if they were talking about what you think they were, then maybe you’ve been connected to the Slaughterhouse Losers for far more than you remember. How satirically fateful.

The ravenette continued, brushing strands of their red hair out of her face. “No one really knows. One day, after he beat up a particular student, their name was Eve, nicest person ever by the way, he just…vanished.”

“Eve Eden?” Your voice spilled from your throat, small and yet audible enough for everyone to hear. You curse yourself internally.

Misaki’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, how’d you know?” Their head tilted ever so slightly to the left, “Oh my gosh, don’t tell me you studied there too?”

Your eyes moved back and forth frantically, stopping at Ronin’s web camera. His eyes were deep in thought, calculating and analyzing—analyzing you. You were being observed by a poet, a writer, just as you observed your favorite serial killers in the slasher movies you used to watch with your friends.

“Yeah! Eve used to be my best friend. We’re still in touch too, we watched the Fear Street series not too long ago.” You spoke in a way that made you look tired, eyes weary and voice deliberately faint and slow. You prayed someone would get the message.

“Aww, hey. You sound like you should get some sleep.” Angel replied, your savior, a true angel indeed, biblical and all. After a few grumbles from Misaki, and a huff from V, you pretended to concede and left the voice call.

You had a dream that night. No, not a dream. You don’t dream, and when you do it’s easier to call them visions. They’re prophetic in a way, a calling from the past or the future, a blemish upon your sleeping patterns. You wish they would stop.

A punch, a kick, a stab. Dragging a dead man walking. Throwing him across the dirt. Heavy breathing. Blood on balled-up fists. You pull.

There’s a head of hair in your hands. The adrenaline rushed through your veins, giving you strength, supporting you through your justice.

He had to pay.

A flash of white blinded you, and there you saw Eve, fast-asleep in her hospital room, countless needles struck in her skin, once full of color, yet now washed out.

Anger surged through you. You regret nothing.

He drowned that day, in the lake you and Eve used to swim in when you two were children.

You grit your teeth as he struggled in your grasp, opening his mouth to curse you, a fatal mistake. The water simply entered his lungs faster.

When he succumbed to the tide, body filled, you were sure he died, not from you, but from the weight of his own ego.

You burnt his body in the woods. You swept up the remains and buried them in a nearby cemetery. You said your prayers. You left.

When the school investigated his disappearance, Eve covered for you. She said you were in her hospital room the entire time.

The sun woke you up, rays fluttering through your eyes and blinding you. Groggily, you get up and check your cellphone. A message notification greets you. It’s from Ronin.

<goreboy> [08:34]

gmorning darling

hows My favorite writer Doing?

Incoming call from goreboy

→ Yes please …

→ no thanks …

You accept his call, snuggling under the covers and breathing in the scent from the jacket he lent you. It smells like a certain kind of men’s cologne, strong and makes you want to sneeze, but it also smells like grease and iron. You laugh to yourself.

“Whatcha laughin’ at baby?” Ronin’s web camera is open. He’s on his phone too, seeing as how he’s using the portrait function instead of the usual landscape. His red hair is messy, with no beanie to tame it. You stare at him for quite a while, a giddy feeling in your stomach. The devil really does look like an angel.

“Nothing.” There’s a huge smile on your face, and you can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks.

“You free later? Got somethin’ t’give ya.” he suggests, accent slightly seeping through his words. You can tell he’s just woken up with how slow and steady he talks.

“Mm, yeah? What’s the devil gonna give little old me?” you tease, playing into your role as his partner, his darling, his everything. He scoffs on the other end of the line and he gives you a toothy grin, making your heart somersault in your chest.

“Jus’ meet me in Purgatory, darlin’.”

When the two of you meet in the familiar alleyway where your first kiss was shared, you gain the strange feeling of deja vu. Ronin has you up against the wall once more, trapped between his arms and staring at his pretty face.

“Hey.” you whisper, face flushed red.

“Hey yourself.��� he whispers back, eyes intense and searching. You worry about what he’s trying to find within you, you worry about how the secrets you’ve whispered to the wind in hopes to rid yourself of them are now caught in his spiderweb.

You shift uncomfortably in his gaze. He knows something. He has you all figured out. Curse you for falling in love with a mastermind.

Ronin slowly moves his left hand to your chin, tilting it upward, making you look at him.

“Got any confessions f’r the devil, little lamb?”

He knows. Your eyes dart back and forth between his face and the space on your right that he’d left open when he moved his hand to cradle your face. There’s a mental debate between your heart and your brain. You wish you could run. You can’t bring yourself to.

Sighing, you grab his hand and lead him through the twists and turns of the alley, reaching the cemetery on the other side. The two of you walk together, hand-in-hand amongst the dead, as if you ruled over them.

At the end of the graveyard, there’s a stone pillar that divides the woods into two paths. You drag Ronin to the path on your right. You still remember, scissors in hand, how far you ran to catch up to him, his hands grasping at the stab wound in his stomach.

You turn left. There’s a field of flowers there, beautiful and serene, and oh-so ironic. You’re about to look back at Ronin when a hand brushes against your ear, placing a flower there. There was something oddly romantic about it. Here you were, showing him your sins, your crimes, your mistakes, and he gladly accepted your insanity, your madness—you.

“I buried him here.” It's half-a-whisper, but the devil hears you nonetheless.

Your lips trembled, guts spilling out to the man before you. “I lured him here. I stabbed him and chased him down.” The events of that day flash rapidly in your mind, making your breathing unsteady and rapid. “I grabbed him by the hair—” You extended your hand, pointing to the body of water in the distance. “—and I drowned him.”

Ronin could only watch as your chest heaved, needing air, needing release. Your mouth, once agape and needing sharp intakes of air, broke into a smile, maniacal and crazy. Your hands reach to cover your lips, but your laugh echoes through the flowers, the trees, the lake, and through the two of you.

Your eyes are bloodshot. Ronin’s eyes are too. His grin matches yours.

“He died egotistical.” You shoot out, a dead look in your eyes that definitely does not match your smile. You wonder if Ronin's surprised at your sudden plot twist in his story—isn't it everything he's ever wished for?

Ronin, upon realizing the severity of the situation, cackles, just as you did, deranged and demented and deadly. He reaches for your face, your expressions complementing each other.

He pulls you in for a kiss. It tastes like concupiscence. You drown in him.

You’re insane. You’re adorable. You’re a devil.

In between kisses, you hear the voice of Lucifer, calling you from hell. "You're perfect."

THIS WAS SO FUN FOR ME TO WRITE. THANK U SM FOR THE ASK!!

cross posted on rottenvamp @ ao3 <3

[echoesofcalypso]

ANIMATED LINES | myth 001.

──────── ⵌ LIGHTSEEKER ..

──────── ⵌ FORESEER ...

──────── ⵌ ABYSS WALKER ...

──────── ⵌ RELENTLESS CONQUEROR ...

──────── ⵌ FARSPACE COLONEL ...

listen …… it’s insane how much this game has consumed me. am I crying over hot fictional men ? yes. their lore is just heart wrenching. anyway ! I wanted to do their standard myth colours in my animated line collection. :’))) hope you like !

heads up, since these are soooo smolllll it’s better to save these via desktop !

blends : 001 / 002 / 003 / 004

read my pinned for usage rules !! like, reblog, and credit if you use :)

support me through ko-fi | more dividers →

[echoesofcalypso]

🎸 First Post Alert! 🎤

🔥 BASIC INFO

Name: Calypso Reverie Age: (who’s really counting? I’m somewhere between a memory and a dream) Status: Learning guitar but dreaming of the stage / Writing the stories I wish I could live / Artist in progress ;) Vibe: Red & black with a touch of chaos 🙏 Major/Interest: Art, Writing, Music, all things I can’t escape / Trying to live outside the lines / Creative mess waiting to happen

🥀 WHO AM I?

I’m learning the art of screaming softly — guitar in one hand, pen in the other

Punk rock music fuels my thoughts, but so does the chaos of a good story~

I live in the in-between: memories fading like old songs, echoes of people long gone

I dream about art, write like I’m fighting ghosts, and create like I’m running out of time (Yes, that is a Hamilton reference.)

Art Instagram: @[TBA]

AO3 Writing: @[TBA]

🎵 MUSIC (because it’s a vibe)

I’m constantly on the hunt for new songs and memories I can wear like a badge. Here’s what’s keeping me alive right now:

Spotify Playlist: Calypso's Playlist

Current song I'm obsessing over: Punk Tactics - Joey Valence and Brae

💿 WHY I’M HERE

To share the chaos, the art, the music, and the memories I’m collecting

I want to find people who feel the same — people who aren’t afraid to bleed for their creativity or let their mistakes become something beautiful

Maybe, just maybe, you’ll find your own stories here too, in the wreckage of my thoughts

I’m diving into this world of art, music, and writing because I can’t let it pass by like an old memory, I don't want to forget anymore.

Also, in case you couldn’t tell — I’m vibin hard with the whole Eidolon thing. Maybe that’s just me… maybe it’s you, too~

🎲 GAMBLING WITH MEMORIES

Sometimes life feels like a card game: you win some, you lose some, and then you’re left with the remnants of what you had. It’s all about knowing when to fold and when to bet it all. Here’s what I’m playing for:

Memories, past and future. A chance to rewrite the stories, maybe not better, but different.

Art, writing, guitar. All I can ever really hold onto in this world.

Everything else? Just chips I’m tossing into the pot.

🖤 CURRENT PROJECTS

Learning guitar, writing stories that feel like they’ll slip away if I don’t keep them chained down

Art commissions coming soon — DM if you want to work with me when I get it all set up! ;]

Memories — writing about them, drawing them, turning them into something that feels more like me and less like a fading ghost

⚠️ DISCLAIMER:

Just so we’re clear, this is a persona, a living, breathing collection of stories, art, and dreams. This isn’t all just me — it’s a lot of what I’m trying to become and the things I’ve already lost. We all have our pieces, right?

[echoesofcalypso]

hey!! can i request a few dark/grunge aesthetic dividers? red and black preferably! the hex code for the color that i would like is: #bf0405 <3 thank you!!

hi - sure! I have variants of each in the two different colors, hope you like these! 🖤❤️

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕

[echoesofcalypso]

hello babes! i hope you're doing well.🖤 i don't know if you're taking divider requests (so if you're not please disregard this message), but i fell in love with the first divider on this set and was wondering if i could get it in a dark red? or just a gothic roses set? your choice.🖤🖤🖤

hello my lovely friend! I would love to make it in dark red for you! I picked a couple shades based on the different app modes (and included a few more styles as well!) (but if there’s a particular shade of red you like, I’d be happy to edit!) 💖 hope you’re having a great weekend!

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕

[echoesofcalypso]

Hey, I know this may be annoying, but I saw that you do dividers. I was wondering if you could maybe see something about rosses and/or chains? Thank you! <3

hi! sorry this took me a little bit! Thank you for your request and I hope you like these! 💖

———

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕

[echoesofcalypso]

Can you do your dark romantic florals or something gothic in a maroon/purpley color scheme?

Ahh yes, I can for sure!! I did a couple different shades of maroon, I hope these will work! 🥀💖

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕

[echoesofcalypso]

Hey J! I hope you're having a great day and a great week so far 💖

I have been loving seeing all the headers and dividers that you've been creating! You have a great eye for color and your designs are awesome! I see them and even though some wouldn't go with my current blog aesthetic, I've been tempted to just cram them all chaotically in there because they are just SO good! 😂

Would it be alright if I requested some dividers to use for my masterlist? I'll be cleaning it up again soon!

Just something to go with a dark/romantic floral pattern! Doesn't need to be super detailed and please take your time!

Thank you so much! 😘💕

ahh hello my friend! omg thank you, you are too sweet! Feeling so 🥰 that you liked them, and I would love to make some for you! I tried to pick colors off your Masterlists. I hope they fit your theme (and if you want any recolored, just let me know! I can do that for sure!)

I am really hoping you are having a great weekend, too! 💖

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please like or reblog if you use 💕

[echoesofcalypso]

Hi love your blog! i think it’s so aesthetic 🥰 could i request some spider-man dividers? with the aesthetic of the movie “spiderman across the spider verse” thank you!! ☺️

(if you are not taking requests sorry for bothering you 🙇🏻‍♀️🩷)

Thank you so much! 💖💕 you are too sweet! I actually haven’t seen Across the Spider-Verse yet (but I want to!!). I made these based on the poster and trailer colors/aesthetics - hope you like them!

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕

[echoesofcalypso]

Hello! I love seeing all your dividers and banners you make they're all so good! Don't know if you've done something like this before (if you have I apologize so much!) But I would love something red and black maybe circles or scroll work ( anything really) I appreciate your work and thank you in advance ( no obligation whatsoever)

hi! You are too sweet, thank you so much! I hope these will work - I matched the red to your blog. 💕 thank you for sending this in!

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕