#calliope: our son?

[sic-vita]

The Sandman | Morpheus + change

“You have changed, Oneiros. In the old days, you would've left me here to rot without turning a hair”

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Chapter 7

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader)Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 5017 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.

Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together. 

But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.

Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.

However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.

Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazonians' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?

~~~

T-minus 1 day until Echidna's War.

'All right, everyone!' Y/N called out to the group, forcing them to stop sparring in their pairs and look at her. 'That's enough for today. Go, shower and get ready for our feast. You deserve to enjoy this night before tomorrow.'

'Yes, Princess!' the warriors said in unison, then quickly dispersed, leaving the training grounds to head back into the city to prepare for tomorrow.

'You should get ready too, Princess,' Calliope said, looking after her sisters-in-arms chatting and walking down the stairs to their homes. Y/N's heart pulled at the thought that she'd never see such happy smiles again after tonight.

'In a moment, Calliope,' Y/N answered, looking around the remaining groups that were finishing up their drills. Her gaze fell on one particular acrobat who was teaching the group blocking techniques and some acrobatic manoeuvres to avoid an opponent. All the while doing so, Dick was smiling, encouraging the women to keep trying.

'He's not too bad,' Calliope said with amusement. 'For a mortal man, that is.'

Y/N turned to Calliope only to see a knowing smile on her friend's face. Only then did Y/N realise she was smiling stupidly wide, and made quick work to get rid of it. 'I guess so. But he's stupidly naive and impulsive. He'll get himself killed because of it.'

'Maybe,' Calliope said thoughtfully as she looked back at Dick for a moment before facing Y/N again. 'But isn't that how a true warrior should die? In battle fighting for what's right?'

Y/N didn't like the thought of Dick being clawed open or beheaded by monsters, so she quickly said, 'It's not his battle to fight in, though. He shouldn't be here.'

'But he is, Y/N,' Calliope insisted, coming to stand in front of Y/N so she had no choice but to make eye contact. 'And that's what makes him even braver. He's here helping us save our home; a home he had never seen until a few days ago; a home that has no connection to him whatsoever but he is here trying to save it.'

Before Y/N could protest, Calliope gripped Y/N's hands in a manner that was desperate and insistent. 'You should tell him. Before it's too late.'

Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion. 'What are you-'

'Oh, don't play dumb with me,' Calliope interrupted. 'I see how you look at him. You're worried about him. Which means you care, despite everything you say to convince us otherwise.'

Y/N went to deny it but couldn't find the words to do so. Her heart was being torn in so many different directions any time she thought about Dick, she didn't know what exactly she felt for him. It was hard to put into words what he meant to her, the good and the bad.

When she remained silent, Calliope patted Y/N's hands gently then dropped them as she too walked away, leaving Y/N standing frozen in a battle with her head and her heart.

Y/N could've been standing there for one minute or an hour for all she knew, until someone waved their hand in front of her face and broke her from her trance.

'Y/N,' Dick said, his brows furrowed in concern. 'You okay?'

Y/N took a deep breath in as she came back to the moment. 'Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Just...'

'Worried?' Dick offered, and Y/N was grateful for the change in subject. 'Well, I wouldn't be if I were you. These women are stronger than some of the heroes back home.'

Y/N raised a playful eyebrow. 'Only some?'

Dick chuckled. 'Okay, all of them.'

The two shared a quiet laugh, and it brought Y/N a sense of normalcy and nostalgia that warmed her heart.

She looked around as the remaining warriors finished their trainings and made to leave for their homes. Y/N could almost name each and every one of them, and there was the possibility that after tomorrow she would never see them again.

'Echidna is the one who should be worried,' Y/N said, her voice slightly shaky with anger and determination. She knew that if death were to come tomorrow, Y/N wouldn't be able to save them all. But she'd be damned if she didn't try to.

A warm calloused hand tentatively enclosed her fist, and the touch was enough to cease Y/N's shakes. 'I agree,' Dick said, two simple words seemingly echoing around the quiet training ground. His smile was smooth but genuine and Y/N could've believed they were eighteen again and back on the mainland and with the team. Back when his smile eased all her problems, back when Wally and all their lost friends weren't gone. Back when it was just them, and everything in Y/N's world made sense.

But now Y/N felt like she was on another planet, and they were about to go to war with the Mother of Monsters and nothing made sense anymore.

Y/N slowly pulled her had away from Dick's and cleared her throat as she stared straight ahead. 'We should probably get ready for the feast. Could be the last one we have in a while.' Or ever, she wanted to add, but Dick was an optimist and would ridicule her for thinking such thoughts and she really didn't want to keep talking with him.

'That's right,' Dick said, eyes brightening up at the thought of food. 'I bet you guys put on the best meals, as well.'

Y/N just rolled her eyes as they made their way across the training grounds to the stairs that would lead them back into town. 'A true boy. Only ever thinking about food.'

'A true girl. Turning every compliment into an insult.'

Y/N shoved him and he shoved her back and the two couldn't hold back radiant smiles. It astounded Y/N how easily they fell back into old habits. How familiar and safe Dick was.

'You should tell him. Before it's too late.'

Tell him what exactly? Y/N could hardly discern what mixture of emotions was running through her, let alone wheedle down to a specific point what her true feelings were for Dick. She'd been upset for so long, then angry at him. But the past three days he'd shown himself to be the Dick she'd always known and come to love. Kind, brave, funny, strong, compassionate.

It all lead her to a very confusing fork in the metaphorical road of her heart.

Even so, there was something she felt for him...

Just as Dick took a step down the stairs, Y/N found herself reaching out to him this time, bringing him to a stop with her soft grip on his shoulder. 'Wait.'

Dick looked over his shoulder immediately, his piercing blue eyes glued onto her with curiosity and wonder. 'Yeah?' he asked.

Y/N took in a deep breath, calming her racing heart as she said, 'I'm sorry.' When Dick only frowned with confusion, she elaborated. 'I'm sorry for doubting you. For being... well, I haven't been the most welcoming of people have I?'

Dick didn't say a word, but he turned fully around to face her, his face as serious as it was the other night on another staircase. Y/N's hand dropped to her side, and she found she could not look away from Dick's eyes as the words started falling out.

'I guess... I just didn't think you cared about us anymore,' she said. 'About the team, about me. And it made me so angry, but then you came to the one place I thought I could finally find peace again and I just couldn't accept that you were here for me. But I see now I was wrong.'

'No, I was the one who was wrong,' Dick said with a shake of his head. 'You had every right to be angry with me, in fact you still do. You were right, I was ignorant and only thought of my pain in those years I was away. I didn't think how coming here would affect you after everything I've done.'

Dick returned to the landing, now towering over Y/N, and took her hands in his and said in a gentle voice, 'I know I am far from forgiven, but I promise you, I will spend whatever time I have left on this earth trying to make it up to you.'

Y/N could hardly breathe with the way Dick was looking at her. It was almost dream-like, and suddenly all of her teenage emotions came rushing back into her bloodstream. The adoration, the awe, the love - it had remained all this time, she'd just repressed it in her time of pain and loss.

And it could've just been her, but something flickered briefly across Dick's face - the slightest arch of his brows, the minuscule twitch of his mouth. An emotion Y/N had no time to discern before Dick was the one stepping back and resuming his journey down the stairs, a careless smile on his face like the moment never happened.

'The showers await us, Princess,' he jested as he waved her after him. 'Wouldn't want to be late for the feast!'

Y/N stared after him for a moment, trying to process what just happened. He was serious, he would do anything to make it all up to her. And that look on his face...

Y/N shook herself out of her imagination. Probably just seeing things, she told herself as she followed Dick down the stairs. She wouldn't get her hopes up again.

Not for Dick Grayson of all people.

~~~

When Dick Grayson arrived back at his room, he drew himself a bath and allowed himself to relax if only for a few minutes. The first night in his room he'd been affronted to find a group of women ready to bathe him like a child. He'd argued with Y/N about them, her saying it was their tradition and all. Eventually she caved and dismissed the women from his room. He laughed at the memory, thinking beneath his own anger that she looked cute riled up.

There it was again - the thoughts he had never thought before.

He couldn't deny Y/N had grown into a beautiful young woman, one who stood by her values and always fought for the right thing. She'd stuck by the team when he couldn't, and for that he would always admire her.

But then again he had always admired her. That's part of the reason she was his best friend. She was this strong and loving individual that had always stuck by him and the others. She had the most infectious smile, and her laughter was like music-

Dick bolted upright in the bath, his heart racing at a million miles per hour as an alarming thought entered his mind. Do I like Y/N?

Well, it wasn't a matter of like. Of course he liked her, she was his best friend after all. But they'd never... she'd never implied...

He recalled when they were younger how many people - including their parents - said that he and Y/N would end up together. They were each other's better half, and honestly part of the reason he ended up breaking up with each and every one of his past girlfriends. Because they couldn't see how important Y/N was to him.

That didn't mean he liked her like that... did he?

Dick splashed his face one last time before leaping out of the bath to get ready for the feast. Maybe all the training he was doing was making him tired and delusional. After all, even if he truly felt that way for her, she'd never feel the same. Maybe once - though there was no telling so - but certainly not now.

However, they'd had a moment on the stairs this afternoon, and something felt... different. The way she looked at him had sent his gut rolling with something akin to a roller coaster, and the vision of her hair in the golden rays of sun had taken his breath away completely. Dick couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that way - completely and utterly entranced.

Dick dressed himself in the only set of clothes he'd come in and opened his door to find Calliope and other guards standing in the corridor.

'We are to escort you down to the feast, Mr. Grayson,' Calliope explained. 'By order of the Queen herself. You will be seated at their table tonight.'

Dick found this surprising as he usually sat with the soldiers of the group he'd trained that day, getting to know them and laughing with them. But he was to sit at the royals table, which consisted of Queen Hippolyta, some generals, and Y/N.

When they entered the dining hall, the feast had pretty much begun as hundreds and hundreds of women were already seated at long tables that ran almost from the door to the dais where the Queen sat chatting with other generals at their own long table. Dick made sure to greet any woman he knew as he was guided up to the royals' table.

'So nice of you to join us, Mr. Grayson,' the Queen said as Dick was seated.

'The pleasure is all mine, your Majesty,' he replied politely, then noted the empty chair between him and the Queen. 'Is Y/N not down yet?'

'She is usually late to these sorts of things,' the Queen replied defeatedly. 'She always fights with the maidens about her hair and dress. In that respect, she is very much her mother.'

As Queen Hippolyta turned back to the speak with the generals, a quiet voice leant in behind him and quietly said, 'Eager to see the princess are we?'

'W-What?' Dick exclaimed to Calliope. 'No, I'm not. I just... I'm just making conversation, that's all.'

'Whatever you say, mortal,' Calliope teased, her smile knowing and irritating as she remained by Dick's head.

He turned to her, annoyed. 'What do you mean by that?'

Calliope just shrugged. 'Nothing nobody doesn't already know.' When Dick just stared blankly at her, she rolled her eyes and said, 'You cannot tell me you do not feel for our princess. Do you not?'

It was like she was reading his mind or something. It was a little freaky and off-putting. But Dick was used to off-putting questions - journalists used them all the time on him when Dick did press interviews with Bruce.

So he calmly sat in his chair and looked out to the busy hall in front of him. 'Well, I still have the bruises from our first sparring match when I first got here so I guess I do feel something because of the princess.'

Calliope chuckled and shook her head. 'Avoid the question all you want, mortal. But Truth always has an interesting way of making itself known.'

Dick didn't like her know-it-all tone, and so finally turned around and said in a quiet but hard tone. 'My relationship with Y/N isn't up for debate here. She is my best friend, and the only thing I'm interested in is restoring her trust in me and saving your island.'

'How noble...' Calliope started, but her attention turned to the opening of the hall's doors and so Dick's eyes followed. He was struck still at the vision he was met with.

It was Y/N, draped in a flattering arrangement of white cloth that was synched at her waist with a golden chain. Her H/C hair had been put up in a loose bun, held together by golden pins. Plain sandals covered her feet as she made her way towards the dais, the many bracelets and arm bands adorning her arms flashing golden in the firelight.

Dick knew he was gaping, but he couldn't help it. No one could it seemed, as Y/N greeted many women along the way, and whispers of her beauty echoed throughout the hall. When she drew closer, her eyes connected with Dick's, and instead of the cold or distant expression she'd given him since day one, she offered him an embarrassed smile.

That brief interaction sent his heart in motion. It reminded him of the time they had gone to prom in their junior year of school. It had been the first time Dick had seen Y/N with makeup and in a dress. She'd given him the same embarrassed look, and he had been just as transfixed.

Dick felt someone lean in to his ear as he continued to watch Y/N make her way to the dais. 'But are you sure there is no other reason that you are here?' Calliope finished with a whisper.

She stepped back into her position before Dick could respond, not that he knew what he would say anyway. His gut was rolling so much with indecision that he thought he might throw up.

He was brought out of his thoughts as Y/N took her seat between him and the Queen. 'Grandmother,' she greeted coolly.

'Y/N,' the Queen responded, a kind smile stretching her lips. 'You look beautiful, my dear.'

'Thank you, but I still do not understand why I must wear this to every feast we have,' Y/N argued.

'It is tradition, and you are Themyscria's princess,' the Queen explained, tapping her granddaughter's hand in comfort before returning to her previous conversation.

Y/N sighed in mild defeat as she sat back in her chair. After a moment, she clocked that Dick was looking at her and sighed again. 'Not a single word from you, Grayson.'

'I wasn't going to say anything!' Dick retorted, quickly collecting himself.

'I can see it in your eyes that you're going to laugh at me.'

It took Dick a moment to realise she wasn't joking. She fidgeted with the loose cloth that draped over her body, eyes flickering from him to the crowd and back. She genuinely thought she looked ridiculous. If he was sixteen still, maybe he would've made a comment or two.

But sixteen was a long time ago now.

'No, I wasn't,' he said, and his answer must've surprised him as she turned to him with a perplexed expression on her face. 'You look... You look beautiful, Y/N.'

Y/N's E/C eyes scanned over his face, possibly searching for any kind of lie or detection of amusement. But she obviously didn't find anything, as she smiled at him, her eyes shining with surprise. 'Thank you. I would offer you the same compliment, but you've looked the same as you did the day you got here.'

'Ruggedly handsome?'

'Hmm, I'd say a bit worse for wear.'

Dick let out a painful groan as he slapped a hand across his chest where his heart was encased under. 'Wow! Way to wound a guy.'

Y/N just laughed, and Dick joined her, genuinely happy to see her smiling as they used to together. Once the laughter died, he said, 'But seriously, Y/N, you look great. And... I'm just glad you're not calling me Nightwing anymore.'

'Well,' Y/N started, fiddling with one of her bracelets, 'I figured you deserved that much after all your help.'

Help. That's right. He was helping her save her new home and new family. It wasn't because she'd forgiven him and were suddenly best friends again.

'I'm sorry to interrupt,' a young girl said, coming to stand on the other side of the table. 'But I just had something to discuss with you, Princess.'

'Of course,' Y/N answered, turning all her attention to the girl. 'Go ahead.'

Throughout dinner, Y/N was kept busy by other conversations with warriors and young girls and teachers alike that all had questions for their princess. Y/N answered every single one of their queries with enthusiasm and grace, not batting an eye as she ate and spoke and listened.

She was a natural and a pro. The whole time she spoke, Dick couldn't help but think about the two years he'd been gone for and how many times Y/N had to soothe a fear, had to deliver a confident speech that would encourage the team to keep going no matter how bleak the future seemed.

It saddened and pained him to think he'd forced that responsibility onto her in his absence. But she'd done it, held the team together and she was doing that right now as well for her people.

Upon the conclusion of dinner, the Queen called for silence as she rose to address the hall. 'Evening everyone,' she started, her voice radiating composure and control. 'Tonight, we are in the presence of our own history in the making. Tomorrow, we face Echidna, the Mother of Monsters.'

The mention of the goddess sent whispers of fear rattling throughout the crowd, but they were quickly silenced by the raise of the Queen's hand. 'I know some of you, if not all of you, are fearful of the coming events. Echidna is a foe that will not be so easily defeated. However, this is what we have trained for. This is what us Amazons are built for.

"Think of the young women, young girls and infants in their houses sleeping peacefully right now. Think of the women you grew up with, of the friendships and sisterhoods you have forged in those years. Think of the woman beside you now. That is who you fight for when Echidna comes. Not ourselves, but the women" - the Queen made a pointed look at Dick as she continued - "and man that reside on this island tonight. They will need you when the fight comes. So are you ready?'

The entire hall exploded with cheers and whistles of eagerness, and that brought a bright smile to Queen Hippolyta's face. 'In that case, enjoy tonight. Dance, eat, drink, sing. Be free.'

By the flick of the Queen's wrist, the band in the corner Dick hadn't seen started playing beautiful music and the tables were moved to create room for a dance floor.

'Princess, you must join us for a dance!' Some young girls came around the table and gently pulled Y/N from her seat, to which Y/N just laughed as she allowed them to drag her to the dance floor. Dick watched Y/N join the other women, watched her smile stretch wide and bright, watched her embrace and let herself go as she danced.

When was the last time she'd done that?

'...when we last spoke, she sounded like she didn't want to be found. That she would come back to us when she was ready...'

'Maybe she doesn't want to see you, have you considered that?'

Kaldur's words haunted him, had been since he left M'gann and Connor's house. He just hadn't taken his friend's warning seriously until now.

Kaldur was right.

Dick rose from his seat and quickly excused himself from the party, suddenly overwhelmed by the music and the full room. He escaped to one of the balconies nearby and was relieved that he could finally hear himself think. And yet now he could hear it all in the outdoor silence - the conflicting emotions and thoughts running through him.

Did she really belong here or back home?

Did he mean as much to her anymore as much as she meant to him?

What did he truly feel for her?

What will happen when Echidna strikes tomorrow?

So many issues and so little time to solve them all.

He didn't know how long he stood there, looking out over the mountain and ocean, over the flickering lights of those who feasted in their homes. It could've been hours, and yet the full moon barely moved.

'What are you doing out here?'

Dick was knocked out of his mind at the sound of the sweet voice, and he turned to find Y/N standing on the steps that lead back inside to the bustling party, an exhausted grin adorning her flushed face. With the firelight behind her and the moon shining onto her dress, Dick could've sworn she glowed divinely.

'S-Sorry?' he called out, confused as to why she was out there in the first place.

'I asked what are you doing out here all by yourself on such a beautiful night?' Y/N repeated, walking down the steps before making her way over to him at the balcony's edge. 'You're usually one for parties if high school was any indicator.'

Dick tried to laugh, but it came out as a weak cough. 'Yeah well, we're a long way from high school, aren't we.'

'What's going on with you?' Y/N asked, and Dick could feel her stare on him. 'You've been oddly... quiet this evening.'

'I just don't feel well is all. Don't worry I will be fine for the battle tomorrow.'

'That's a load of crap, Grayson and you know it.'

Dick didn't reply, just looked out over the ocean in the hopes that she would leave. But she didn't and Dick finally turned to meet her stare. It was like she was undressing him, but not in the physical sense. In the way she'd always been able to read him and say silently that she knew he wasn't okay.

That one stare made him feel more vulnerable than being naked, or doing flips off a podium twenty metres in the air with no safety net to catch him.

'I just... I've been doing some thinking,' he started, 'and I think that... if we both survive this... that you should stay here. On Themyscira. If that is what you want.'

Y/N scrunched her brows in confusion. 'So... you're giving me permission to stay here if we all live through Echidna's war? Seriously?'

Dick turned to her fully. 'No, I mean yes- But no you don't need my permission to stay, I just... I'm sorry this is coming out all wrong.' He took a calming breath before starting again. 'What I mean to say is, I came after you for the wrong reasons. I was being selfish and stubborn. But I want you to be happy. And seeing you dance tonight with the other women... well, I can't remember the last time myself or any of the team brought you that kind of happiness.'

'What about your mission?' she asked, her voice distant, almost scared.

Dick flashed her a casual smile. 'Don't worry about it. I'll manage. I never should've come here in the first place. I'm sorry.' Dick gestured back to the stairs and started back-tracking towards them. 'Let's go rejoin the party while we still can, huh? You're right, I do love a good party.'

Just as he turned his back, Y/N called out. 'I'm not.'

He paused for a moment, then looked over his shoulder to find Y/N looking at him with an intensity that almost sent him staggering. 'What?' he asked.

'I'm not sorry you came,' she answered, taking a deep breath in to maintain her composure.

Surprised by her answer, Dick turned back to her. 'You're not?'

She shook her head, then started fidgeting with her dress and looked down. 'Am I angry you came? Yes, initially. Am I still hurting because of what you did, and is your presence just a daily reminder of that pain? Most definitely.'

That last one struck him deep. He had never wanted to be the cause of so much pain. Not to her of all people.

After another deep breath, Y/N finally looked up at him. 'But that doesn't mean I didn't miss you.'

There it was again, that look she'd given him on the stairs earlier, in fact she'd given it to him many times before, he realised. Not just on Themyscira but back home, back when they were sixteen. It was the look of truth and honesty, of adoration and care.

His heart thumped so heavily in his chest he swore Y/N could hear it, and while he didn't understand what the thought of Y/N missing him implied, he knew how it made him feel.

'I missed you too,' he said honestly, returning to stand in front of Y/N. He didn't know why, but it felt right to reach for her hands, and she didn't push him away as he enclosed his fingers around hers. 'A-And being here has made me realise something else, too.'

'What's that?' Her breath fanned his face they stood so close, closer than what simple friends should. But he didn't care, it felt right, it felt natural.

'That I... I just...' He couldn't get the words out, they were so heavy with meaning they got stuck in his throat. Both afraid and excited to say them aloud, he couldn't decide what fate would be worse. Be honest and rejected, or be honest and see if she felt the same.

'You what, Dick?' she whispered, eyes never leaving his.

They both realised that it was the first time she'd called him by his first name since he'd landed on Themyscira. And if that wasn't a sign, then Dick didn't know what would be.

'I just...' Dick started, but a shadow crossed over Y/N's face and he quickly turned to find a a giant winged creature with fangs and a humanoid body reaching to him with its claws.

'Get down!' Dick cried as he turned and dove to the ground with Y/N. He felt the talons of the creature brush against his back as he partially covered Y/N out of natural instinct. The creature screeched as it soared high above again, disappearing into the darkness despite the moonlight.

'Are you okay?' Dick asked as he helped Y/N to her feet.

'Yes, I'm fine,' Y/N said, her eyes trained on the sky.

'What was that?' Dick asked, trying to spy the creature but there was no sign of it anywhere.

'That was a harpy,' Y/N answered, then her eyes locked on to something in the sky, her face paling with fear.

Dick followed her gaze and found himself frozen with fear himself. The harpy had come back but with more of its kind. Many more. So much so they blocked out the moon and engulfed the palace in darkness.

'Echidna's war...' Y/N breathed out in disbelief. 'It' has begun.'

---------------------

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[apollosgiftofprophecy]

Statistics of Apollo's Lovers

I was wondering just how unfortunate of a love-life our boy Apollo had, so - as one does - I did the research, math, and writing of said love-life.

such is the life of an adhd teen :)

In total, there are 59 people on this list. I have them separated into eight groups; Immortal, Immortal & Rejected, Lived, Died, Rejected & Died, Rejected & Cursed, Rejected & Lived, and who were Rejected by Apollo

Disclaimer: I am not a historian nor an expert in Greek Mythology, I am just a very invested nerd in Mythology, and in Apollo's mythology in general, and got curious about what his rap sheet actually looks like.

Sidenote: There will be some "lovers" not on this list. Reasons being;

No actual literary sources behind them

Said literary sources are dubious at best

Not enough information is given about the nature of their relationship to make an accurate take

So if somebody isn't on this list, it's because of one of those three reasons. Although there is still a chance I missed somebody! :)

Also, no RRverse lovers include in this list. Sorry my fellow ToA fans.

*I am currently missing about 4 other lovers, and will get them on here ASAP. Their inclusion, however, will not change the overall conclusion. 👍

(Edited 08/15/24 - ALL SECTIONS SOURCED)

Let's begin! :D

Immortal Lovers

Calliope: muse of epic poetry. Mother of Hymenaios and Ialemus (Pindar's 3rd Threnos) by Apollo.

Clio: muse of history

Erato: muse of love poetry

Euterpe: muse of music

Polyhymnia: muse of hymns/sacred poetry

Melpomene: muse of tragedy

Thalia: muse of comedy. Mother of the Corybantes (The Bibliotheca by Pseudo-Apollodorus) by Apollo.

Terpsichore: muse of dance

Urania: muse of astronomy

Boreas: the North Wind. The Boreads called Apollo "beloved of our sire" in Apollonius of Rhodes's Argonautica.

10 lovers total here.

9 Female, 1 Male

Immortal & Rejected

Hestia: goddess of the Hearth (Hymn to Aphrodite)

1 Interest. Female.

Lovers Who Lived:

Branchus: mortal shepherd, gifted prophecy (Conon's Narrations 33 & Callimachus's Iambus)

Rhoeo: mortal princess, eventually married an apprentice of Apollo (Diodorus Siculus's Bibliotheca historica 5.62 and Tzetzes on Lycophron 570)

Ourea: demigod daughter of Poseidon, dated Apollo during his punishment with Laomedon; had a son named Ileus, after the city of Troy (Hesiod's Catalogues of Women Fragment 83)

Evadne: nymph daughter of Poseidon, Apollo sent Eileithyia & (in some texts) the Fates to aid in their son's birth (Pindar's Olympian Ode 6)

Thero: great-granddaughter of Heracles, described as "beautiful as moonbeams" (Pausanias's Description of Greece 9)

Cyrene: mortal princess-turned-nymph queen, kick-ass lion wrangler, and mother of two of Apollo's sons - Aristaeus (a god) and Idmon (powerful seer) (Pindar's Pythian Ode 9.6 ff. and Nonnus's Dionysiaca and Callimachus's Hymn to Apollo 85)

Admetus: mortal king, took great care of Apollo during his second punishment, Apollo wingmanned him for Alcestis's hand - basically Apollo doted on him <3 (Callimachus's Hymn II to Apollo and Apollodorus's Bibliotheca 1.9.15 and Hyginus's Fabulae 50–51, and also written about by Ovid and Servius)

Hecuba: queen of Troy, together they had Troilus.

It was foretold that if Troilus lived to adulthood, Troy wouldn't fall - unfortunately, Achilles murdered Troilus in Apollo's temple. When the Achaeans burned Troy down, Apollo rescued Hecuba and brought her to safety in Lycia. (Stesichorus's Fr.108)

Hyrie/Thyrie: mortal. mothered a son by Apollo. Their son, Cycnus, attempted to kill himself after some shenanigans and his mother attempted the same. Apollo turned them into swans to save their lives. (Antoninus Liberalis's Metamorphoses 12 and Ovid's Metamorphoses 7.350)

Dryope: mortal. had a son named Amphissus with Apollo, who was a snake at the time. Later turned into a lotus flower, but it had nothing to do with Apollo so she's still on this list. (noncon; written by Ovid in Metamorphoses 8 CE/AD and later by Antoninus Liberalis in his own Metamorphoses sometime between 100-300 CE/AD)

Creusa: mortal queen. had a son named Ion with Apollo (Euripides's Ion). Please check out @my-name-is-apollo's post for more details because they make some good points about what's considered "rape" in Ancient Greece. I expand on this further at the end of the post.

Melia: Oceanid nymph. Had a son w/h Apollo named Tenerus. (Pausanias's Descriptions of Greece 9.10.5–6)

Melia was said to be kidnapped, and her brother found her with Apollo. He set fire to Apollo's temple in an effort to get her back, but was killed. Melia and Apollo had two kids - but here's the interesting part. Melia was highly worshiped in Thebes, where her brother found her. She was an incredibly important figure in Thebes, especially when connected with Apollo. She and Apollo were essentially the parents of Thebes.

As I read over their story, it sounded like (to me, at least. it's okay if you think otherwise!) that Melia just absconded/eloped with Apollo.

Was kidnapping an equivalent to assault back then? Perhaps. But it's still debated on whenever or not that's true. However, one thing I've noticed reading up on these myths is that when Apollo does do something unsavory, the text says so.

It never says anything about Apollo doing anything to Melia. Her father and brother believe she was kidnapped, but, like mentioned previously, it seems far much more likely that she just ran off with her boyfriend or something.

But that's just my interpretation.

Moving on! :)

Iapis: a favorite lover. Apollo wanted to teach him prophecy, the lyre, ect. but Iapis just wanted to heal :) so Apollo taught him healing :) (Smith 1873, s.v. Iapis)

Aethusa: daughter of Poseidon & the Pleiad Alcyone. Mother of Linus and Eleuther. She is the great-great grandmother of Orpheus. (Apollodorus's Bibliotheca 3.10.1 and Pausanias's Descriptions of Greece 9.20.2 and Suida, s.v. Homer's Of the Origin of Homer and Hesiod and their Contest, Fragment 1.314)

Acacallis: daughter of King Minos. there's a lot of variation on whether or not she had kids with Hermes or Apollo. Some say she had a kid with each. (Stephanus of Byzantium, s.v. Kydōnia (Κυδωνία and Scholia on Apollonius Rhodius, 4.1492)

Chrysothemis: nymph queen who won the oldest contest of the Pythian Games - the singing of a hymn to Apollo. She had three daughters, and one of them is said to be Apollo's. (Pausanias's Descriptions of Greece 10.7.2 and Hyginus's De Astronomica 2.25)

Corycia: naiad. had a son with Apollo. the Corycian Cave north of Delphi is named after her (Hyginus's Fabulae 161)

Leuconoe (also Choine or Philonis): daughter of Eosphorus, god of the planet Venus, and mother of the bard Philammon. (Hyginus's Fabulae 161) She was killed by Diana for her hubris.

Melaena (also Thyia or Kelaino): mother of Delphos, member of prophetic Thriae of Delphi. Priestess of Dionysus. (Herodotus's Histories 7.178.1)

Othreis: mothered Phager by Apollo, and later Meliteus by Zeus. (Antoninus Liberalis's Metamorphoses 13)

Stilbe: mother of Lapithus and Aineus by Apollo. (Diodorus Siculus's Library of History 4.69.1 and Scholia on Apollonius Rhodius, 1.40 and Scholia on Apollonius Rhodius, 1.948)

Syllis (possible same as Hyllis, granddaughter of Heracles): mothered Zeuxippus by Apollo. (Pausanias's Descriptions of Greece 2.6.7)

Amphissa: Apollo seduced her in the form of a shepherd. They had a son named Agreus. (Ovid's Metamorphoses 6.103 and Hyginus's Fabulae 161)

(hey, has anybody else noticed that 'Apollo disguising himself' seems to only be a thing in Roman literature?)

Areia (or Deione): had a son named Miletus. Hid him in some smilax. Her father found him and named him. (Apollodorus's Bibliotheca 3.1.2)

Arsinoe: she and Apollo had a daughter named Eriopis. (Hesiod's Ehoiai 63 and Scholia ad Pindar's Pythian Ode 3.14)

Queen of Orkhomenos (no name is given): Mother of Trophonius (Pausanias's Descriptions of Greece 9.37.5)

(my fellow ToA fans will recognize that name haha).

Hypermnestra: Either Apollo or her husband fathered her son Amphiaraus. (Hyginus's Fabulae 70)

(sidenote: @literallyjusttoa suggested that Apollo was dating both Hypermnestra and Oikles, and I, personally, like that headcannon)

Manto: Daughter of Tiresias. Apollo made her a priestess of Delphi. They had a son named Mopsus. When Apollo sent her to found an oracle elsewhere, he told her to marry the first man she saw outside of Delphi. That man turned out to be Rhacius, who brought her to Claros, where she founded the oracle of Apollo Clarios. (Apollodorus's Bibliotheca E6. 3)

Later, another man named Lampus attempted to assault her, but was killed by Apollo. She is also said to be a priestess who warned Niobe not to insult Leto, and to ask for forgiveness. Niobe did not. (Statius's Thebaid 7 and Ovid's Metamorphoses 6)

(Dante's Inferno places her in the eighth circle of hell, and let me just say- what the FUCK Dante! What did Manto ever do to you, huh??!! Don't do my girl dirty!!)

Parthenope: granddaughter of a river god. Mothered Lycomedes by Apollo (Pausanius's Descriptions of Greece 4.1)

Phthia: prophetess. called "beloved of Apollo". Mother three kings by him; Dorus, Laodocus, & Polypoetes (Apollodorus's Bibliotheca 1.7.6)

Procleia: Mother of Tenes, son of Apollo, who was killed by Achilles before the Trojan War. Daughter of King Laomedon, king of Troy. (Apollodorus's Epitome 3. 26)

Helenus: prince of Troy. Received from Apollo an ivory bow which he used to wound Achilles in the hand. (Photius's 'Bibliotheca excerpts')

Hippolytus of Sicyon: called "beloved of Apollo" in Plutarch's Life of Numa. I don't think this guy is the same as Hippolytus, son of Zeuxippus (son of Apollo), king of Sicyon Pausanias talks about in his Description of Greece. That would be a little weird taking the whole family tree into account - though it's never stopped other gods before. *shrug*

Psamathe: nereid, said to be the personification of the sand of the sea-shore. (Conon's Narrationes 19)

She and Apollo were lovers, but never had any kids. When another man assaulted her, she had a son and abandoned him.

(He was found by some shepherds dw - wait, he was then torn apart by dogs. Nevermind.)

Back to her, her father ordered for her to be executed and Apollo avenged her death by sending a plague onto Argos and refused to stop it until Psamathe and Phocus/Linus (her son) were properly given honors.

(I really like how even though Linus isn't Apollo's kid, and that Psamathe wanted nothing to do with the kid, Apollo still considered him worth avenging too <3 )

Okay, in a previous incarnation of this post, I said there was a version where she is raped by Apollo...however, I can't find any sources to back it up😅 Even her wiki page doesn't mention rape, and Theoi's excerpt of Paunasias's Descriptions of Greece about her doesn't either.

So where did I hear about this supposed version? (Don't shoot)

Youtube. A youtube video about Apollo. Yeah...

Lesson, kids! Don't trust youtube videos on mythology! Yes, even if they dedicated lots of time to it! They can still get things wrong! In fact, don't even take my word for it! Do your own research <3

Alright. 34 lovers here.

5 Male. 29 Female.

33 are 100% consensual. Creusa is questionable, depending on who's translating/which tradition you go with.

Lovers Who Died:

Hyacinthus*: mortal prince. we all know this one, right? Right? one and only true love turned into flower (okay that's my bias speaking but AM I WRONG?) (Plutarch's Life of Numa, 4.5; Philostratus the younger's Imagines; Pseudo-Apollodorus's Bibliotheca 1.3.3; Ovid's Metamorphoses 10.162–219; Bion's Poems 11; and various pieces of art)

Cyparissus: mortal. his DEER DIED and he asked Apollo to let him MOURN FOREVER so he was turned into a cypress tree (Ovid's Metamorphoses X 106ff)

Coronis: mortal princess. cheated on Apollo w/h Ischys, who in Fabulae was killed by Zeus. mother of Asclepius. killed by Artemis. (Pindar's Pythian Odes 3.5; Pausanias's Descriptions of Greece 2.26.6; Hyginus's Fabulae 202; Ovid's Metamorphoses 2.536 and 2.596; Hyginus's De Astronomica 2.40; Isyllus's Hymn to Asclepius 128.37 ff.)

There is another version of Asclepius's birth given by Pausanias in Descriptions of Greece 2.26.1-7, where Coronis exposes him on a mountain and Apollo takes him in.

Adonis: yes, THAT Adonis. he's in this category because. well. he died. rip (Ptolemy Hephaestion's New History Book 5)

Phorbas: Okay so Apollo's lover Phorbas and another Phorbas sometimes get mashed together so this is what I was able to gather.

Plutarch's Life of Numa 4.5 and Hyginus's De Astronomia 2.14.5 cites Phorbas as Apollo's lover. The other Phorbas is said to be a rival to Apollo in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. Personally, I separate the two because it makes more sense with Phorbas the lover's overall story.

Here it is: The island of Rhodes fell victim to a plague of dragons or serpents, and the oracle said to summon Phorbas for help. He defeated the infestation, and after he died, Apollo asked Zeus to place him in the stars, and so Phorbas became the constellation Serpentarius, also known more widely as Ophiuchus (a man holding a serpent).

FORGET ORION AND HIS ONE-OFF MENTION OF BEING DIANA'S LOVER HERE IS A CONSTELLATION TRAGIC LOVE STORY!!!!!

(*Hyacinthus was resurrected, as celebrated in the Hyacinthia festival in Sparta. Nonnus's Dionysiaca 19.102 and Pausanias's Descriptions of Greece 3.19.4 supports this belief as well.)

5 lovers.

4 Male. 1 Female. All consensual.

Sidenote: QUIT BURYING THE GAYS GREECE!!!!

Love-Interests Who Rejected & Died:

Daphne: do i nEED to say anything? Nymph. turned into tree to escape.

Daphne and Apollo actually go back a bit. Their story was used to explain why the laurel was so sacred to Apollo. It's in Delphi, Branchus planted laurel trees around the temple he built to Apollo, the laurel was even sacred to Apollo's historical forebearer Apulu, an Etruscan god! (I have sources to back this up :3 along with an Essay.)

Apollo & Daphne first originate from Phylarchus, but we do not have any of his work :( It's been lost to history...a moment of silence RIP. He was a contemporary in the 3rd century BC/BCE (first day of 300 BC/BCE and last day of 201 BC/BCE).

He was, however, cited as a source in Parthenius's Erotica Pathemata, written sometime in the 1 century AD/CE (sometime between 66 BC/BCE and the author's death in 14 AD/CE).

Then they show up again in Pausanias's Descriptions of Greece, written between 150 AD/CE and 170 AD/CE.

Hyginus wrote his Fabulae sometime before Ovid's because it's widely criticized to be his earliest work and Ovid wrote his Metamorphoses in 8 AD/CE.

The first two versions are roughly the same, and Ovid's shares similarities with the first in only the ending. Hyginus is basically like Ovid's but without Eros.

So in publication order, it's; Erotica Pathemata, Fabulae, Metamorphoses, then Descrip. of Greece.

In Erotica Pathemata, Daphne is the daughter of Amyclas and is being courted by Leucippus. She is not interested in any sort of romance. Leucippus disguises himself as a girl to get close to her, but his ruse is revealed when Apollo nudges Daphne and her attendants into taking a bath in the river. Leucippus is consequently killed.

Apollo then becomes interested and Daphne runs away, imploring Zeus that "she might be translated away from mortal sight", and is transformed into the laurel tree.

In Fabulae, Daphne's story is a bit more familiar. She's the daughter of Peneus, the river god, and Gaea is the one who transforms her into a laurel tree.

In Metamorphoses, Eros is added to the story and is the reason why Apollo is so enamored and Daphne is so repulsed.

(I would just like to say that in this version, it was 100% nonconsensual for both of them! And I don't mean with rape- Apollo never touches Daphne in any of these version. What I mean here is that Eros maliciously makes Apollo chase down a woman and makes sure Daphne would be repulsed by him. That is noncon behavior there on both sides.)

In Descriptions of Greece 10.7.8, Daphne is the daughter of Ladon and her and Apollo are only connected by way of why the laurel crown is the victory prize of the Pythian Games. However, in Descriptions of Greece 8.20.2-8.20.4, Daphne and Leucippus make an appearance here too, but Apollo is not the reason why they stop to take a swim and his ruse is revealed, resulting in his death.

Castalia: Nymph. turned into spring to escape.

First things first, Castalia was used to explain the existence of the Castalian Spring in Delphi. However, in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, the spring is already there when Apollo was born. So there's that to consider first.

Anyway, to escape Apollo's advances, Castalia transforms herself into a spring. (Lactantius Placidus's On Statius's Thebaid 1.698. This was written between Lactantius's lifespan of c. 350 – c. 400 AD/CE, placing it firmly in Roman times.)

2 Interests.

2 Female.

Love-Interests Who Rejected & Cursed

Cassandra: mortal princess. Received the gift of prophecy from Apollo. Due to a broken oath, she was then cursed. (Aeschylus's Agamemnon)

It is only in Roman-era tellings where Cassandra is cursed for not sleeping with Apollo, and there was no oath made (Hyginus & Pseudo-Apollodorus). In Agamemnon, it was done so because of the broken oath- not the refusing to sleep with Apollo thing.

The version where she gains prophetic abilities by way of a snake licking her ears is not part of Greco-Roman literature, but rather by an American poet.

Nevertheless, even after the curse Cassandra still loved Apollo, and called him "god most dear to me" in Eurpides's play The Trojan Women.

1 Interests.

1 Female.

Love-Interests Who Rejected & Lived

Sinope: mortal. there are two different version of her myth.

In Diodorus Siculus's Library of History 4.72.2 and Corinna's Frag. 654, Apollo "seizes" her and they have a son named Syrus.

In Apollonius's Argonautica  2.946-951 and Valerius Flaccus's Argonautica 5.109, it is Zeus who abducts her, but she gets him to promise her anything and requests to remain a virgin. He obliges. Later, Apollo and the river Halys both try to charm her, but fall for the same trick.

Library of History was written between 60-30 BC/BCE, Apollonius's Argonautica between 300 BC/BCE and 201 BC/BCE, and Valerius Flaccus's Argonautica between 70-96 AD/CE, making Apollonius's version the oldest and Valerius Flaccus's the youngest.

Marpessa: mortal princess, granddaughter of Ares. Idas, son of Poseidon, kidnapped her and Apollo caught up to them. Zeus had Marpessa chose between them, and she chose Idas, reasoning that she would eventually grow old and Apollo would tire of her. (Homer's The Iliad, 9.557 and Apollodorus's Bibliotheca 1.7.8–9)

Bolina: mortal. Apollo approached her and she flung herself off a cliff. He turned her into a nymph to save her life. (Pausanias's Description of Greece 7.23.4)

Ocroe/Okyrrhoe: nymph and daughter of a river god. asked a boatman to take her home after Apollo approached her. Apollo ended up turning the boat to stone and the seafarer into a fish. (Athenaeus's The Deipnosophists 7.283 E [citing The Founding of Naucratis by Apollonius Rhodius]. The Deipnosophists was written in the early 3rd century AD, between 201 AD and 300 AD)

Sibyl of Cumae: mortal seer. promised to date Apollo if she was given longevity as long as the amount of sand in her hand. he did, but she refused him. (Ovid's Metamorphoses 14)

5 Interests. All female.

Okyrrhoe's story is the only one with any iffy stuff, although, when something iffy does occur, the text usually says so outright.

Rejected by Apollo:

Clytie*: Oceanid nymph. turned into a heliotrope to gaze at the sun forever after the rejection.

1 Advance. Female.

(*Clytie's story was originally about her affection for Helios. [Ovid's Metamorphoses 4.192–270; Ovid used Greek sources about the etymology of the names involved, meaning Clytie and Helios go back to Greek times] As Apollo got superimposed over Helios's myths, people have assumed it is he who is the sun god in her myth and not Helios.)

In Conclusion...

59 people total, and 33 of them have Roman-Era roots with (as far as I know!! Don't take my word as gospel truth!!) no relation to Greece except by way of shared mythology.

Here's the list:

Rhoeo

Thero

Hyrie/Thyrie

Dryope

Melia

Aethusa

Acacallis

Chrysothemis

Corycia

Choine

Thyia

Othreis

Stilbe

Syllis

Amphissa

Areia

Queen of Orkhomenos

Hypermnestra

Manto

Parthenope

Phthia

Procleia

Helenus

Hippolytus of Sicyon

Psamathe

Cyparissus

Adonis

Phorbas

Castalia

Sinope

Bolina

Ocroe/Okyrrhoe

Sibyl of Cumae

Meaning, 56%- and really, it's more like 57%, because Clytie is not Apollo's lover at all- of the lovers listed on this post are not entirely Greek in origin (AS FAR AS I KNOW-)! That does not mean ofc that you have to ignore them. I, for one, really like the story of Rhoeo, and Manto, and Psamethe- I find their myths sweet (Rhoeo & Manto) and bittersweet (Psamethe).

Let's get to the calculations now, yeah?

59 people total (Includes Clytie)

48 Women (81%). 11 Men (19%).

19% were Immortal (Including Lovers & Rejected)

68% Lived (Including Lovers & Cursed & Rejected)

14% Died (Including Lovers & Rejected)

1% were Cursed

2% were Rejected by him

58 people total (Not Including Clytie)

47 Women (81%). 11 Men (19%).

19% were Immortal

69% Lived (Lovers & Cursed & Rejected)

12% Died (Lovers & Rejected)

in that 12%, one was apotheosized - Hyacinthus.

Meaning 10% died permanently, while 2% were resurrected.

2% were Cursed

0% were Rejected by him

Additionally, I left off three male lovers and two female lovers - Atymnius, Leucates, Cinyras, Hecate, & Acantha.

Atymnius has no references to being Apollo's lover, only to Zeus's son Sarpedon. (Wikipedia why do you even have him listed? You need sources smh)

Leucates is another male "lover" left off the rack - apparently he jumped off a cliff to avoid Apollo, but I couldn't find any mythological text to account for it- and no, OSP's wiki page is not a reliable source. There is a cliff named similarly to him where Aphrodite went (by Apollo's advice) to rid herself of her longing for Adonis after his death. Also Zeus uses it to rid himself of his love for Hera before he...well, commits adultery again. 🤷

Cinyras was a priest of Aphrodite on the island of Cyprus. He was also the island's king. Pindar calls him "beloved of Apollo" in his Pythian Ode. However, looking further into Cinyras's life throws a bit of a wrench into it. He's also cited to be a challenger to Apollo's skill, and either Apollo or Mars (Ares) kills him for his hubris.

(honestly, I kinda like the idea that Mars went into Big Brother Mode)

I did consider leaving him on the list, since technically you could argue it was a romance-gone-bad, but among every other source Cinyras is mentioned in, Pindar's the only one who puts a romantic label on him and Apollo.

Plus, he’s been described as a son of Apollo too, and I personally like that more lol

Hecate, the goddess of magic and crossroads, is said to be the mother of Scylla (like, the sea-monster) by Apollo, but Scylla's parentage is one of those "no specific parents" ones, so I left her off the list.

Acantha has absolutely no classical references. There's a plant like her name, but she's made-up, so she doesn't count. *stinkeyes the guy who invented her and claimed his “sources” were reliable when they really aren’t*

(Of course, I could be wrong about any of these. Again, I'm not an expert.)

With all this in mind, this means Apollo's love life actually isn't as tragic as media portrays it, and he isn't as bad as Zeus or Poseidon in the nonconsensual area.

Does he still have those kinds of myths? Yes, with Dryope and Creusa; though, we can discount Creusa because;

1) Depends on who's translating it; and

2) Ion is given different parentage in the Bibliotheca, which yes, came much after Ion, however Xuthus was traditionally considered to be Ion's father rather than Apollo. This means there was probably a different oral tradition on Ion's parentage that just wasn't written down as early as Euripides's was- in fact, it may even just be an invention of Euripides's.

(and honestly Apollo's characterization in Ion just doesn't quite match up with the rest of his appearances in the wider myths (in my opinion, at least))

So that leaves us with just Dryope, who comes from Ovid, a Roman poet, and Antoninus Liberalis, a late Greek one.

Now I'm not saying we should throw her out because of Ovid's whole "wrote the gods even more terribly to criticize Augustus" thing, but it is something to keep in mind. Political mechanics have been used to change myths before, and this is certainly one example of it.

Additionally, I have seen many people discard Dionysus's rapes in the Dionysiaca because of how late it was written, so this one can be given similar treatment if one choses too because of just how late Ovid and Antoninus Liberalis's work was.

You can, in fact, pick and chose if you wish, especially if it'll increase your enjoyment of literature. That's certainly what I do :)

So overall, I'd say Apollo has a rather clean relationship past. He's doing pretty damn good.

Also, I think we should all take note that even if Apollo had noncon myths, that doesn't reflect on the actual god. The Ancient Greeks did not see the myths as "canon" to their gods- in fact, some were not happy with the myths showing the gods in such a light.

That's something else to keep in mind. The gods of the myths are not the gods of Greece, and are more like parables or fables for the Ancient Greeks I'd say. Lessons on morality and such, and of course, warnings against hubris and the like.

This was quite the journey, and I really hope you all enjoyed reading and learning with me! This really makes me wonder- if Apollo's love life is this good, I wonder how misinformed we are on everyone else's? I have no plans on doing Zeus or Poseidon or anyone else (not for a LONG time lol, this took a lot of effort and research!), but if anyone has any idea, or gets inspired to do something like this for any other god, please tag me!! I'd love to see it! :D

And since this was on a previous reblog, here be a meme from a while ago:

[ID: Me Explaining Me. On the left is a girl with her hands up, fingers pinched together, like she's intensely explaining something. The text over her says "Me giving a detailed diatribe about Apollo's love life and how modern media has done him and his lovers dirty". On the right is the girl's mother, wrapped up to her chin in a blanket, with a look on her face that screams "I hear this all the time". The Mother is labeled "My family". /End ID]

suffers in I'm the only mythology nerd in the family

[writing-for-life]

Lupē

Finally, finally I manage a Calliope/Morpheus fic (the Sandman Rarepair Fest had to come along to kick me into gear). It’s just a short vignette, but I hope I did them justice because they will always be the OTP to me. The prompt is Hurt/Comfort.

You can read on Ao3 or here. And no matter where you read, your kudos, comments, shares and reblogs are so appreciated and help writers to get their stuff discovered 🖤

Lupē (616 words) by Writing-for-Life Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Calliope/Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Calliope/Dream of the Endless, Calliope & Dream of the Endless | Morpheus Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Reconciliation, Past Relationship(s), Rare Pairings, Canon Compliant, During Canon, Canon Related, Canon Rewrite Summary:

Calliope had wept for him so many times, and she felt the tight grip of grief resurfacing. She had mourned the laughter that would never echo through these halls again, the stories of his father he would never pass on to children of his own, the promise of a future shattered. […] And she was tired of mourning, of a grief that felt like it was hers alone to bear.

Lupē

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow upon the twisted spires of the castle. She had not returned here since that fateful day.

The Gatekeepers stood before her, eyes like onyx reflecting the aeons they had witnessed. Last time, they had been impassive, their voices cold as they denied her entry.

But tonight, something had changed: They recognised her.

"Calliope," the wyvern’s voice echoed through the mist. "You seek the Lord of Dreams."

She nodded, and her throat felt so tight she could barely swallow. "I come to speak to him."

Calliope's fingers trembled. She remembered the bitter words they had exchanged—the accusations, the tears. Later, Oneiros had been unyielding, her attempts to speak to him ignored. She was not even sure what would have happened had he acted differently then; the thought of bringing forth an apology entered her mind and was as quickly dismissed. She felt her hands ball into fists, bitterness resurfacing.

No, this is not the time.

The guardians exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. "Why are you here, muse?" the hippogriff asked.

She hesitated. "Our son's absence binds us, even in sorrow."

There was no more talk, no further interrogation. The gates just creaked open.

Calliope stepped across the threshold, and her footsteps echoed on the stairs and the marble corridors. With every step, her heart picked up pace until it was racing so fast she could hardly catch a breath.

The door was as she remembered—unchanged, the wood dark and polished, etched with symbols whose meaning she understood and yet didn’t.

Just like him.

But that wasn’t true. He had been changed when last they met. Familiar yet different, faint echoes of what once she loved—and hated.

Calliope pushed the door open, and the air itself seemed to hold its breath. For a moment, she wondered what she had expected to find. How she had expected him to greet her. And then she knew that this was exactly it:

His back turned on her, no sign of movement, frozen in space.

She crossed the room, her breath catching in her throat, unable to speak.

She didn’t have to.

"Calliope," he whispered, still not turning. There was a rawness to his voice, even in that whisper, that caught her unaware.

She reached for him, without any hesitation, and while it surprised her, it felt right. As her hand touched his shoulder, he flinched subtly, but he didn't pull away.

When he finally turned, his eyes held galaxies, and their shared history was etched on his face—the pain, the longing—it was all there, laid bare.

And it was hard not to see Orpheus in him. Hard not to remember how he had told him stories, his voice like a melody spun from darkness and light, stardust and moonbeams, while the boy’s laughter would echo through the halls of the castle, and his cries for more brought a moment of happiness to everyone who heard it.

And then it was gone.

Calliope had wept for him so many times, and she felt the tight grip of grief resurfacing. She had mourned the laughter that would never echo through these halls again, the stories of his father he would never pass on to children of his own, the promise of a future shattered.

She had sung dirges and sought solace in memories, but they only deepened the pain.

And she was tired of mourning, of a grief that felt like it was hers alone to bear.

In that moment, his eyes searched hers. “You came.” And perhaps, they were seeking answers and forgiveness.

“You called.”

And perhaps, they were also holding the faint glimmer of hope…

[orionsangel86]

Just rewatched Calliope episode of The Sandman and it occurs to me that this episode strongly implies that Orpheus is dead and gone??

The Hecate state that he "died in Thrace" (which technically he did in the comics too but he lived on because of Death withholding her gift).

Then when Calliope requests to visit Dream in the Dreaming sometime, in a change from the comics she gives her reasoning as "so we may talk about our son and grieve him properly".

Yet in the comics, it is made clear that Calliope visits Orpheus on the island at least somewhat regularly both before and after her imprisonment. So what she says in the show doesn't make sense unless Orpheus is already dead properly in the show?

But that would be a huuuuuge change to the story so surely thats not the case? I probably missed a lot of discussions about this after the show first came about before I caught the brain worms and had to analyse the comics with a fine tooth comb so I would love to know what others think about this.

@duckland @so-i-grudgingly-joined-this-site @notallsandmen tagging for your thoughts as well as anyone else who wants to answer!

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2024-09-14

(Previous post - current page 666)

Section 4 (now 5 since they added an hourglass to replay the intro, gee that's not symbolic of the time being spent here) of page 666 is now upd8'd, let's dive in! I had a busy weekend and visited a relative's place for a party I didn't know had cats for hours (super double allergic) that will probably knock me the fuck out for a day or two starting tomorrow so I'd better finish this post tonight before that happens!

Another aside before we begin, I haven't looked at much of the commentary stuff but on twitter I saw this particular bit from the past art commentary on the main account:

"...but I think it made a lot of sense to us that a character tucked away in the Candy timeline (even guided by mysterious visions and borrowed intuitions [borrowed from whom, I wonder...?]) wouldn't necessarily be able to wrap their head around the pure, potent purpose of The Plot Point[...]"

I thought this may have meant something even more significant when I was skimming and glanced at it, but it seems pretty clear to me now that I'm actually paying attention and not at all surprising, in line with our existing guesses but still important. To quote the page in question they're referencing, its dialoguelog:

CALLIOPE: yoU remember how we got so wrapped Up in the initial excitement of finding the singUlarity and the rUined jUjU arch, and sUbseqUently stabilizing it with oUr sUper cool cherUbic-lalondian tech... ROXY: its true our tech really is so fkn cool... CALLIOPE: and then, well... it felt like we were on sUch a roll when we came to the conclUsion that we needed to leverage vriska's hyperrelevance to scUrry oUt of here... ROXY: we did have a whole bunch of high fives about that... CALLIOPE: it was an exhilarating breakthroUgh! CALLIOPE: and an eqUally exhilarating high-five session! CALLIOPE: bUt then the conflict began to ramp Up, and yoUr son got into all those shenanigans, and i wanted yoU to feel like i had everything Under control down here so yoU could attend to it! CALLIOPE: and all that notwithstanding, we really DID need to hUrry Up and do SOMETHING. CALLIOPE: i worried that perhaps yoU'd be a bit relUctant to pUll the trigger on this if it felt like all the details weren't lined Up. CALLIOPE: and so i... CALLIOPE: well, i sUppose i might have implied a more complete knowledge of the a to zed of all this then i actUally... possessed. CALLIOPE: and continUe to possess.

In other words, Calliope and Roxy came to some startling breakthroughs and were guided to this course of action -- as if by a muse! -- through ideas that came together as if it hadn't quite been THEIR OWN plan all along. They were... inspired. And Callie and Roxy over in the CANON timeline were working on a plan for victory apart from alt!Callie which was cut off and unsaid, and we already had reason to believe that the entire SHAPE of the events of Candy had been essentially "written" as fanfiction by canon Calliope all over her as-of-yet unseen walls. Meaning that even though alt!Calliope doesn't act very happy about this plan of theirs, it was never HER plan-- it was a plan that spanned two different instances of Calliope and Roxy, across space and time and the canon barrier, possibly even across their shared Hearts, their not-yet-accessed Ultimate Selves which connect all instances of Roxy with Roxy and all instances of Calliope with Calliope. Their use of the plot point falls in line with Calliope and Roxy's plan across both stories... quite likely the most important plan at all, especially when alt!Callie keeps wanting to discount it. A plan where Roxy looks at the tumor-like growth of the House representing the shape of Homestuck and doesn't consider it too messy to be worth keeping around or in need of a total pruning/reset. A plan where everything they experienced in both places has value.

Alright, on to the update! Ooh, the others are numbered and this is labelled with chapter numbers 1 thru 4 but this one is "Chapter X", wonder if that's meaningful or a typo since we're getting some kind of Davepetasprite interlude. Honestly, I think a large part of what Vriska has been experiencing, this therapy, has been guided not just by Light or by Davepeta and the other squareds and the ghosts trapped here, but also by Vriska's Ultimate Soul/Self, ie the broader Heart of Vriska which has spanned all Vriskas and perhaps has the ability and knowledge to learn all her best lessons, instead of falling into Ultimate Dirk's trap of self as would normally seem most likely for Vriska. Let me just stop listening to the Murder Drones OST and get on with liveblogging, don't listen to the OST yourself it's too easy to spoil yourself seriously just watch the series from ep 1 (try even ONE MINUTE OR TWO of it) and know it gets increasingly better per episode. (Ahem... Shilling my interests aside...) *Clicking.*

Oh, no wonder it's "Chapter X", huh. so 5 is going to be the last? Or 6(66)?

Holy shit, that's some trepidation in their cool enby ass's expression. Is Davepeta embarrassed to be talking to Erisolsprite? I mean I don't know any other sprite squareds who could be here except... oh no, she couldn't be here, could she?? Not Jasprose?!

Some Dave-like riffing about the ringtone (which might be a meta joke about the new banging little ditty in the background music they used so the music wouldn't be the same), let's see...

Yeah it's Erisolsprite^2.

ERISOLSPRITE: dude.

hahahaha gosh talk about someone both sides of you have every reason to be sort of annoyed with but there's few others to talk to. Also technically, if Sprite^2s get a folding-in of all their other selves like an Ultimate Self as was implied repeatedly, this Erisolsprite includes all the Eridans who DIDN'T go on a genocidal rampage nad did better, and Solluxes who DIDN'T keep the same counterproductive outlook despite some crucial awesome actions, so perhaps he's not so ba- (EDIT FROM A FEW PARAGRAPHS DOWN: never mind I forgot it was one sprite prototyped by two corpses, there's no squared next to his name, he's not a squared sprite at all so not ultimate and very instanced, my misconceptions continue for a few sentences--) oh pff they're pinging him on his phone despite them being right next to them, I get it. XD

Oh, Erisol was calling THEM and THEY were hesitant to PICK UP the phone. Which he was calling despite being right next to them.

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < hahaha yeah i will, sorry man

Aww, gosh you're cool.

SDFJKLHLSDJKF

OH MY GOD I WAS WRONG I WAS RIGHT EARLIER OMFG THERE AREN'T EVEN TWO OF THEM THIS IS THE SAME ONE WHO IS OVER HELPING MEAT/CANON JANE PROBABLY LOSE THE ELECTION TO A TROLL RESIDENT OF HER WORLD AND REALIZE SHE HAS A RESPONSIBILITY TO CEDE CONTROL OF THEIR CREATION TO ITS INHABITANTS AAAAAAAAAA did that bonus material continue when HS2 resumed i havent even CHECKED since ages ago!?!?? don't answer that i don't even remember if iw as fully caught up on it ill browse thru the material and figure it out without spioling myself lather dsfjlk can't type JASPROSE IS HERE (ON THE PHONE (FROM A DIFFERENT PLANE)) AAAAAA

Dammit, you ascended ultimate Seer of Light plus cat, yes Davepeta WAS doing that thing where they started roleplaying outloud to themselves instead of picking up. Rose has always had uncanny guesses as to how someone was answering or avoiding answering her all throughout Homestuck from Act 1 onwards, and it was always a Seer of Light thing. Jasprose is obviously even better at it and also YEAH THESE TWO HAVE SOME BAGGAGE MAYBE between them even as ultimate selves!! No wonder Davepeta gets nervous about starting a conversation with her. Wait. Waitwaitwait.

Rose was a WANNABE PSYCHOTHERAPIST.

An Ultimate Rose instance like Jasprose might be a REAL PSYCHOTHERAPIST DOING EFFECTIVE THERAPY from parts of Rose within her who followed the non-amateur path due to her interests, and helping guide this entire Plot Point hyperbolic therapy chamber that seems so conveniently super on point for what Vriska psychologically needs!!!!!

...Davepeta did you just do a "nipah" is that a weeaboo thing

my google searching comes up with nothing but a zoonotic virus for the word, someone context me plz (EDIT: Good context has been provided here! That's a damned good point with the ultimate selves playing chess outside of canon with the inside of canon, that's very Umineko from what I've seen of it.)

Oh my god I still love her so fucking much. (Also I was right that this is "canon" Jasprose, in the bonus material, and her using the dubious canonicity of the setting she's ginned up for Jane and crew is awesome for an excuse to let her reach here, that's superb.)

Reading more into that line, The Plot Point's "hyperconcentrated essentiality field"... that sure sounds like Light, like a concentration of Light that simply cannot escape from its black hole container? *click...*

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i hate that i understand what youre saying when you speak like this

LOL

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Isn't it delightful?

SHE'S HAVING A BLAST I LOVE HER LOOK AT HER LAUGH SPRITE I'M NOT SCREENSHOTTING

okay Davepeta has shortened it to The Point (again)

JASPROSESPRITE^2: How delightfully quirky! Let's get to ours, shall we?

JASPROSE LOOKS SO COY BUT I'M TOO EXHAUSTED TO SCREENSHOT HOW MUCH I LOVE HER

She's been having an incredible time? Theraputically scenario-driving Jane and crew, or helping here from the background?

EMBRACE the ship of the Dad Crocker and whichever midnight crew carapace he was working with i forget exactly if it was Slick or DD was it Slick? ship. EMBRACE THE SHIP and the silliness of them tracking after you-- wait wasn't there some hubbub they'd caused the main Jane crew after we last left off that bonus before the HS2 gigapause / team change? Fuck I forget. I'll refresh myself on all this some other time, I promise, I'm regaining my health and energy and there's tons of other stuff (including rereading my own liveblog of the bonus material before catching up on it) I have to get to if I don't want to lose track of whatever the fuck I might have thought was going on before seeing if there's more I missed.

They've been on your tails, I see what you did there.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Eugh!

I've personally never met a lesbian that was too lesbian to appreciate a proper m/m relationship for solidarity's sake, but Jasprose IS sort of a self-loving lesbian singularity.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: But hey! Downing cold drinks and dodging hot lead, Midnight City certainly doesn't disappoint!

You're god damned right.

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < jasprose... youve been drinking?

Oh nooooo. DD: Davepeta's worry hurts my soul, she had better respond she is functionally immune to alcoholism in this form or some shit

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Please. JASPROSESPRITE^2: You know it's only milk bars for me.

HAHAHAA DAMMIT

It took way too long to realize she wasn't talking about Mom Lalonde's martinis and was instead amusing herself by talking about COW MILK in the most disturbing way possible and also the way Jaspers would

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Speaking of, I've made fantastic progress with the enchanting, yet problematic Ms. Crocker.

(Oh you incorrigible flirt.) I wonder if we're about to get a summary-form hint of the most important bonus content's drive to conclusion if the team isn't planning on continuing it separately themselves, so we get to hear the major twist and results (that those of us who caught onto the direction) may have already deduced will happen from there (that one side troll running against Jane or convincing her to drop out and winning the election for Earth C president instead of Jane)?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < "enchanting yet prowlblematic" DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < thats gotta be your favorite combination JASPROSESPRITE^2: Guilty as charged!

i love them, them Davepeta and them plural both sprites

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Sigh, it's almost a shame I'll have to pass her off soon!

Yes, it DOES seem we're getting hints to how that'll turn out, regardless if we ever see it live or not. But that's to be expected from a Seer of Light. I wonder if Jane and Jake ever had hope of a healthy relationship, or if there's some new pairing to be had that I've forgotten we were potentially driving towards?

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Her politics are still a little eye-brow raising, but they won't raise any torches and pitchforks yet.

Wait, I'd assumed that previous line of hers was talking about her relationship status, not the scenario itself. Either way, I've already covered in past bonus material liveblogging that Jasprose's efforts will ultimately correct Jane, regardless of her current (less Candy) political position (for the near future anyway), to be stood the fuck aside as Earth C wins dominion over itself and the Gods understand they don't run the place, just as Yiffy recently covered should have been the fucking case. I believe in Jasprose AND in Jane Crocker, they have this covered together. Jake specifically alluded very recently in Candy to himself that there exists a world where Jane wouldn't have turned out the way she did in Candy at all, and that that'll have to be enough for him, something only a Hope player very VERY committed to possibility and his aspect could use to justify his move forward away from and against her.

Ooh, now Jasprose is talking about developments regarding her timeline's Jake English and his "broken-hearted malaise" he's locked into, she's definitely trying to save him, too.

Yep, she's pointing the bat to the fences like Babe Ruth and saying we'll SEE Jake on the path to a fulfilling life before curtains are called on the story on the Canon side, and I certainly hope that's the case.

Pff, meta commentary on "how many w33ks of developments has this b33n" because those bonus materials were staaaalled. If Jasprose has half their temporal meta-awareness, their response will be...

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Oh Davepeta, we've only been out on the town for a single, sensual, enlightening night!

Impossible to tell whether she's aware of the metatemporal aspect she's utterly dunking on with this in-canon temporal truth, whether she's ignorant of it or dunking intentionally on the difference. XD

Ooh, the other Ultimate Seer of Light of the Meat timeline is disconnected enough from her other robotic self's Dirk-brainwashing and obsession with canon to tell how key what is being done in the Hyperbolic Therapy Chamber is for both timelines combined, however the fuck that's going to play out. *clicks*

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < well i mean DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < its going

GAHAHAH is she actually genuinely shocked that Vriska is making psychological progress?!?!? Because from a psychologist-like perspective YEAH THAT'S SUPER SHOCKING, but from a Seer of Light perspective i can't help but think she's playing it up for the lol(cat)s

"That bad?" Oh dear, yeah okay maybe she's expecting it wouldn't have taken... quite as long... but she might believe in her fellow Light player a little more than deserved, given her taste for the "enchanting yet problematic". Vriska NEEDED this much time to iron herself out, there wasn't any real option than this much ironing in the fire to work out anything close to the lifetime's worth of trauma she'd gone through. (Also punways and conceptually, VRISKA being the iron in the fire (of hell) is hilarious.)

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < JR were fucked

(translation: JaspRose, we're fucked)

I wonder if Vriska really is going to finish her therapy while in here or if she has to 8r8k break out before she's come to a satisfied conclusion after that last bit of trauma beyond overcoming enough to START moving on. Actually, you know, that might just be for the best. Allow her to get her final resolutions through the end of the plot even moreso than already planned, rather than finishing all of her necessary therapy from WITHIN the plot point.

Or maybe they, or we, just need to clap their hands and believe in Pupa Pan's fairy just that little tiny bit harder.

Pff, you tell 'em. (But, is your time REALLY so unlimited? And if it isn't, wouldn't you know? Also, nice hyperbolic time chamber reference yet again, since the first ones all the way back in Homestuck original, and considering we're literally in one.)

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < but god daaaaaaaamn its 8 steps forward 7 leaps back every session

ahahahahah therapy. ahh therapy. therapy. :T look everyone should go to therapy i know it's frustrating but THERAPY HELPS when the therapist is good and you should shop around for a therapist you really feel gets and believes in y-- okay i'm too tired to get into THAT spiel moving on. I need to pick up the pace and keep reading so i can get this fucking DONE tonight and not do every quote in full detail

"this therapist shit is not easy" yeah you got that right

pffdsh NO DON'T GO FREUD WITH SMASHING 8-BALLS

wait she's smashing 8-balls now? again? more? I think she's finally perhaps meant to get the lesson those smashings are meant to represent, from the original comic run, if that last icon in the scenario is any indication... Kanaya's simple lesson that if she cleaned up her room, she wouldn't step on so many d8's and consider her luck so "bad" as the cause...

pff Davepeta can't map freudian parentage onto trolls lol

"youd probably be way better at this than me" well that confirms they're TRYING and perhaps being somewhat coy about not playing the therapist-- no they were never coy about that, Davepeta just said he had no idea how to do it which was true, so... who's guiding the scenario, like I asked before? From whence the self-confrontations, but the self?

"I would, yes." Are you still an untrained amateur though, even though you're a Seer of Light and suited to guide people onto the best path for themselves if you do your best anyway?

"im in hell and you dont even care" lolol its funny cause you should understand cats Davepeta

"it turns out hell is trying to get vriska serket to change her mind" LOLOLOL

NICE pun there because she is also literally trying to change her mind

Ooh Jasprose doesn't even know how long it's been. Davepeta says it's been an hour outside... and in "Centralized Point Time (CPT)" NO DAVE FUCKING STOP THAT'S A BAD RACIST JOKE YOU ASSHOLE YES I'M BLAMING THE DAVE SIDE OF YOU FOR THAT YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND COASTING ON GOOD KARMA TO MAKE IT SOUND LIKE YOU WERE BEING IRONICALLY PSEUDORACIST THAT DOESN'T WORK PEOPLE HAVE TRIED IT

(I wonder if that was a genuine white-person accident and they'll re-edit and change that joke but i doubt it somehow, the accident part not the changing it part, though to be fair I don't even think they fixed the Jaspers funeral time discrepancy in early early HS2 i pointed out, i'd have to go back and look)

--(ahem, nvm that) oh god one hour to four years yeah that's a fucking time translation. I was wondering just how long things would have been progressing on the outside, I knew it would hopefully be quick from the others' perspective but... Yeah seeing the ratio is always stark.

Whoa, Jasprose is shocked/surprised?! (I guess the Point IS ensconced in void...) And yeah most would be shocked to hear.

"What have you even been doing there for 4 years?"

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < chilling

ahh, never change, the rest of Davepeta.

"That's all you've been doing? Chilling?" "p much" Yeah never change.

"Fucking incredible." AHAAHA JASPROSE GETS IT, I'd fistbunp her!

"I suppose it'd be in line with her particular brand to extend her stay another 4 years." Oh dear don't even 8-joke about that jasprose

"god can you imagine" okay PHEW looks like davepeta is laughing and understands it wont work out THAT badly

... the background went empty........ is this a unique dramatic pause for Davepeta to come back and say "oh fuck it probably will", or the end of the section?

Oh, clicking again made it go white and go back to the select screen.

...and the last icon is a whole 8-ball, which means the joke could be that FOUR MORE YEARS LATER could be the opening caption for the next section, oh god oh god oh GOD

...alright, phew, there wasn't too much content to blog about there. I'm free to relax for a bit. Probably will have other stuff going on because my weeks are getting busier, though even that tiny glimpse of relevant hint-dropping in earlier commentary at the start means I SHOULD PROBABLY GET ON THAT COMMENTARY but won't have energy or time............. ah well whatever, I won't beat myself up about it, you get the Boots that you get. or bladekindeyewear or right i have two screennames. Toodeloo! How the fuck do you spell that... Oh, I got it right the first time, it just red-underlined it because i'm American. Toodeloo, 'til next update or the next time I'm free and bored and have enough energy to think of doing blogwork!

Also it's possibly notable that even though we've only had 4-plus-X chapters, chapter 5 (the eight ball not done yet) is followed by the BOTTOM LINK for NEXT that could serve as a chapter 6 (for 666) or plunge us into just two more in a separate S-or-non-S thing until Chapter 8.

Maybe to fit with the Hell theme we'll have just TWO more years instead of four... making this a total of 6 years she's skipped. What timeframe catches her up with Candy John to start flirting, if she were to land at about the same age? Someone else do the math for me, I'm too exhausted tonight. Byeeeeeeee!

[mistyconfidential]

SO, DID YOU KNOW 'EM?

Bodies, bodies, bodies... And one sorry little son of a bitch quarterback who might lose his fingers. If we're bein' honest, I never liked Baylor much. One of those guys who seemed to like his own ass better than having braincells - I'd just love to know how you feel about him, though.

Here's how our little game is going to work, Mountaineers: whoever reblogs this post to their own blog is fair game. You're gonna pick one of the deceased (or hospitalized, in the case of Baylor Dawson) from the NPC list, whatever questions you like best, and send 'em on over to whoever you feel like torturing. For example, if I wanted to ask you a couple questions about Baylor I'd send:

Baylor Dawson 🎧 💋 !

Got it? Good. Cuz I just can't wait to see whatever mess comes outta your mouth.

🎧: what song reminds you of your relationship with them, and why? 

💋: did you ever lock lips? did you want to? 

😱: what’s the biggest secret you ever them? do you think they ever told anyone?

🧣: what season reminds you the most of them?

👖: did you ever let them borrow anything of yours? did they ever give it back?

🛒: what was the best gift they ever bought you?

💄: if you could have changed one thing about them, what would it have been? 

👅: reveal one awful thing you thought about them. 

👾: what’s the worst thing that they ever did to you?

🤨: what’s the worst thing you ever saw them do to somebody else? 

🌶: did you ever get so mad you felt like you wanted to kill them? 

🍸: what’s your favorite drunken memory with them? 

✨: did you feel charmed by them? 

😡: are you mad at them for dying? 

😢: did you cry when you heard the news? 

😁: do you think they deserved it? 

👁️: do you think Baylor is going to survive? 

 🔪: who do you think killed Calliope? 

 🔥: did you ever see Simon go too far? did you feel sorry for him?

💀: what do you think happened? How did they die?

⚠️: was Siberee sweet to you, or were you one of the people who got on her bad side?

😳: did you ever get in a fight? 

❄️: why do you think people are falling asleep in the snow?

admin note; this is an opportunity to expand on the lore of the NPCs, and to give your character a chance to connect to the world of Misty Mountain! Remember, it's a small town... everybody knows everybody, and everybody loves to gossip! That's exactly what you're doing here. Feel free to make up whatever you want about the NPC as long as it plays into the information provided in their blurbs. You can be friends, enemies, ex-lovers... Make them the villain in your story! Make them the hero! It's up to you.

[rriavian]

Major spoiler warning for the end of The Sandman comics below. Please scroll if you haven't read that far or just if you'd like to avoid them. I've tried to make sure I've tagged properly but just wanted to add an additional warning.

Ok so a while ago @two-hands-toward-the-sun made a post about Daniel Hall and Calliope meeting after he becomes Dream, and it made me curious so I started thinking about what that would be like. Below is the resulting ficlet :)

-

There was a question to be asked when Calliope arrived.

The Furies attack had made its mark, scars left on a realm whole but still healing. Despite that she found the Dreaming felt unchanged; still ever shifting, a constancy in how it reflected every Dreamer, in how it reflected Dream.

That same quality carried, that sense of the new in the old, observed when Calliope met Dream of the Endless in his palace and found him at once so recognisable and yet so very unfamiliar. She found it in hair as white as she knew it had been once before, as she knew it had been so very long ago, Calliope found it in eyes that had never been green but had always been starlit. This was the same sky, just as likely to turn black, currently content to match shades with the emerald hanging around a pale neck, its gold chain glimmering against the now white clothes. It made the pain somewhat easier to feel, made the loss somewhat clearer too, the cut cleaner.

Perhaps it would never heal but the wound wasn’t ragged.

Calliope smiled. “What would you like me to call you?”

For the first time he smiled too.

It was a fine thing for that to be the first thing she witnessed, the first discovery she made of him. Calliope had not seen it on this face—younger, so similar and yet not that at all—watched and learnt the way these features softened and found it lovely. 

“Daniel.” He said; still Dream’s voice, low and soft, not quite like hearing a ghost though, not when the voice of a dream had always been so much more than what was left by the dead. “I chose it.”

There was pride in that.

A child’s. Not immature, just fresh, untainted. Calliope's smile widened even as tears began to well in her eyes. “Very well then Daniel.”

“You may also call me Dream.” He added. 

Calliope nodded. “It’s who you are.”

Another smile.

“It is.”

-

Calliope had been invited.

She found herself curious as to why now.

“What has made things different?” Calliope asked, knowing she was here for more than to attend a funeral. “Morpheus was never ready, you are all he was…”

Daniel waited once she trailed off.

He stood silent while confirming that Calliope wasn’t going to continue. It was only then that Dream picked up the thread Calliope had dropped, it was only then that he revealed that he'd caught it as it fell. “You wish to know what I gained?”

It wasn’t a surprise that he’d untangled her question so effortlessly.

Calliope found that remained just as unsettling as Dream’s perception could so often be. Precise in the way a scalpel was; it cut out only what was needed, went as deep as was required by the wound, cut expertly but it still cut. He was right. Calliope did wish to know what he’d gained, though until he’d said that she’d not been sure it was the right word, the right definition. Daniel Hall had been human. Morpheus had always been Endless.

Calliope didn’t know what to think of the amalgamation of that.

Perhaps she never would, but she could still use a perception all her own to try and find both sides of its coin. “Yes, what you gained…and what you lost.”

“I…” Dream paused but didn't stumble, paused not to find the words but to feel them. “I lost them both. I gained them both. We joined and so became new.”

“Changed.”

“Yes.” He shrugged, so simple a motion for so large a truth. “What is that for one such as me? What can it be. To change is to die, and to die is to change.”

“Our son died.” Calliope said quietly.

“I know.” Daniel said. “I know what that is now.”

“I don’t.” Calliope admitted, her own simple statement for far too large a truth. “Not like a mortal does. How can I mourn when—“

Daniel took her hand. “You can mourn with me.”

Oh.

He was kind, wasn’t he?

So very kind, just like her Oneiros had been. Daniel was dark like him too; sharp, resplendent in it, somehow refreshed like a mortal was after a long sleep, less worn and weary in a world the same as when they'd closed their eyes. The nightmare in him reborn too, as it should be, that cruel aspect rejuvenated because it had never been a wound to cast out. Calliope had never needed to find Dream in the darkness, had never forgot enough of him to try, had known no hand was needed to pull him out of what might be dark but would always be him.

The full spectrum of what a dream was; Dream was as soft as he was sharp, the hand that now held Calliope's was as cold as the action was warm, Dream was cruel—

He was kind.

“It takes time, doesn’t it? For us.” Calliope said quietly, part of her always standing two thousand years away. “How long can grief last when one lives forever.”

Daniel considered that for a moment, heard its threat, its hope. “Perhaps even grief must die.”

“Must change?”

He smiled, this time a little impish, a mischievousness familiar and utterly unique. “Indeed.”

Calliope sighed. “I do not think mine can change the way yours did.”

“No.”

“I suppose that is true for humans too.” Calliope continued, then tested specifics, tested going as far down another thread as she could and wondering if he might once again pick it up. “For other parents. Other mothers.”

Calliope didn't trail off this time, dropped the thread all the same, deliberate and—

It changed hands.

“I have lost a son,” Dream said, his eyes as green as the place where the Bacchante had torn Orpheus apart, as green as the forest that had continued growing nonetheless. “And I have been a son who is lost. I have been taken and I have been taken from. I know what hurts you, Calliope the muse, and I would mourn with you if you’d allow me.”

“You lost a mother.” Calliope realised; breathed it like an ode, where grief expressed the fullest, felt an answer resonate as what could only be given as poetry.

“I am Daniel.” He said, somehow agreed, somehow refuted too, both acknowledged what grief that was and what it couldn’t be. His pause was what lay between stanzas, what inspired the next one to begin. “But I am not Daniel Hall.”

Oh Dream. 

A baby had died—oh that hurt, the thought of Orpheus dead like that, the thought of him having so little time—a mother grieving what could never, ever come back. They had spoken of loss, of Morpheus, of Daniel, because there were really two deaths in this one life. A new pain in that to match what else was gained. Refreshed Dream may be but there was always a burden to bear, always one to carry. That was life, was dreams and nightmares, was balance and perhaps it was restricting to call that a caveat. It was neutrality perhaps, a scale that could tip both ways.

It wasn’t failure that made this hurt.

Calliope nodded. “Then perhaps we can mourn him too?”

Perhaps Dream had tested the dropping of a thread this time. Daniel stilled, looked at her searchingly; eyes now black and aglow with stars, the wonder of looking up at the sky, the wonder of looking down at the earth. They shared that between them. Calliope found herself remembering Orpheus—a child asking to stay up late, an adult asking if she’d like to meet his future wife—remembered a searching look that said I need to be sure.

That said do you really mean it?’

She’d never seen it in Dream, found it now. This fragile sort of wondering, this want revealed as if he’d not yet thought he’d be given the gift. 

As if he’d not known he’d be granted the right. 

Dream nodded at last. 

“Yes.”

[just-some-random-blogger]

School Of Rock

Orpheus & Sister!Reader, Dream of the Endless & Daughter!Reader + a bit of dream x reader

Summary: "YEAH!" he makes an sheesh face, "THAT'S HOW YOU DO IT!" "ORPHEUS QUICK, DREAM'S COMING." "SHIT," he grabs his sister and the guitar, "SCRAM!" "SHIT!" "NO, DON'T SAY THAT!"

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: a smidge of mom!reader x dream, literal baby girl!reader, angsty teen!orpheus, dad's not here so let's go wild 😎 -orpheus, babysitter!matthew, being emo is genetic, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: I am currently mourning (update: eternally) orpheus because i finished book 7 and now i dont know what to do with my life. I had an ask for this, and honestly, i regret answering like that cos idk if that nonnie will ever see this T_T COME BACK NONNIE Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9

"That went well!" I grinned as I turned to Dream, who was vibrating in anger as he watched the 'impudent' boy storm off. He turns over to me with a shocked and hardened expression. He growls, "my son just threatened to curse you. I do not take that lightly." I furrow my brows as I chuckle and pull Dream in for a hug, "nah. That was a bluff. He likes me," I sigh through a smile, "he held back his laughter to my jokey-jokes a couple times." Dream stiffens as my arms go around him. He looks and thinks there was a foolishness to this optimism; it was borderline denial. Still, he says nothing and returns the embrace.

"Who goes there?"

He tilts his head up to the three gatekeepers, "Orpheus," he flares his arms out, making the fringes on the sleeves of his leather jacket wobble with the air, "prince of the Dreaming."

Wyvern brings its face close to the figure clad in black, looking at him for a good few seconds, and finally recognizes him. "So it is. Apologies, your grace. We did not recognize you because of your attire."

Orpheus pushes his shades down and tilts his black cordobes hat back. His distressed black eyeliner made his blue eyes appear even bluer. His black painted lips curve into a grin, "no harm done."

"I must inform you that we were instructed by our master to disallow your entrance if you are to be hostile with the princess child; as she is currently here in the Dreaming," Griffin speaks.

"What?"

"Do you swear that there shall be no hostility toward your half sister from you?" Hippogriff questions.

Orpheus chuckles dryly and clenches his jaw.

The three gatekeepers ask at once, "do you swear it?"

He sucks in a deep breath then pulls a smile, "I swear to the gods of Olympus, and on my mother, Calliope, I will not be hostile to the girl."

Needless to say, Orpheus was grumbling the whole time he walked down the halls of the Dreaming. His eyes twitched when he heard an echo of girlish giggles from the throne room.

He huffs through his nostrils and crosses his arms when he sees a raven flying low around the room and a little girl chasing after it with an open mouthed smile.

Both creatures freeze when the bard barks out the girl's name viciously.

She squeaks and comes to an abrupt halt, falling on her hands and knees because of this. Her keeper, Matthew the Raven, swoops down next to her in concern. Undeterred, she ignores Matthew and looks to her approaching figure with wide eyes.

"Where is father?" Orpheus asks.

Matthew answers, "he's out doing some errands."

He raises a brow, "and her mother?"

The black bird raises a wing, "I would assume she is the errand."

Orpheus chokes on his spit and begins to cough violently.

"I'm taking care of her for the meantime."

He heaves as he attempts to level himself. He scoffs and points, "you?" He walks over to the child, "insanely irresponsible to leave a child to a bird, isn't it?"

"Hey! I'm a great babysitter," Matthew argues, "and between me and the Pumpkin, I'm wayyyyy better."

Orpheus watches the girl push herself up and look up at him with wary eyes. He notices the way she flinches back and how her hands fidget, and somehow the reaction makes his chest tighten. How... dare she?! His emotions bubble into anger. He imposes upon the tiny thing and leans forward, hands, with painted glittery red polish, coming to his knees. He pushes his shades down and raises a thick brow, "what's wrong, little girl? Scared?"

The girl takes a look at his darkened eyes, and Orpheus is certain she's about to cry.

Yet, instead, he, himself, flinches when the girl breaks into a squeal and jumps into him. Orpheus pulls back in surprise, but she still manages to dart her arms out to his shoulders and very nearly choke him in an embrace.

His hand comes to the girl's back, intent on exaggerating injury for effect and pry her off. But then she rubs her face into his shoulder and shrieks, "Orphy!" She mutters sweetly against him, "missed you."

He glares at Matthew when he coos at the manipulative toddler's words.

Against himself, the hand which meant to yank her away rubs her back gently. He feels a blush creep on his face as he slowly pulls away from the seemingly unwilling child. He adjusts his glasses as he straightens up and looks down upon the beaming little sister he regretfully has and clears his throat, "whatever. I don't care."

Matthew chuckles at that, making Orpheus snap at him, "beat it, bird."

"Hell no," the bird croaks, "I'm her babysitter. My eyes will be on her the entire time, which means now, they'll be on you too."

Orpheus rolls his eyes, "ugly."

If Matthew had eyebrows, he'd raise one of them for the emo child's random insult.

The series of events that play out after was, in Orpheus' eyes, truly indicative of the conniving nature of the girl. Somehow, she managed to make Orpheus allow her to not only redo his makeup (as in wash it off and do it all over again), place stickers on his bare arms (he removed his jacket and was left in his makeshift muscle tee) and put clips and ribbons all over his hair (he may go bald now), but she also made him cook for her (and Matthew) and steal his confiscated electric guitar from the vault (all her idea)! The fact her parents were blind to her evil was astounding.

Orpheus was even encouraged by the raven to continue with the shenanigans, so if anything, it was clear that even Matthew was unsafe to her mind games.

Right now, he had his mint blue guitar plugged to some effects pedals and an amp, and he was intent of blowing the brains of this kid off with his sick guitar riffs.

Unfortunately for the Master of Riffs™, she was most impressed by his rendition of Ba Ba Blacksheep, and not even a rock version with cool distortions and wah effects, just... just babablacksheep.

Matthew croaked in approval as the girl clapped her hands after Orpheus finished singing.

Ever the rock star, the guitarist pushes his instrument back and bows, a few plastic clips falling to the ground as casualty. At the ready, the girl darts up from the floor she was sat and grabs the clips, raising her hands up to put it back on her beloved brother's hair.

Orpheus instinctively gets down on his knees and lowers his head to her. Matthew so very much wanted to tease him in this moment, but he didn't want him to suddenly snap at him and her because of it.

She shakily, as toddlers do, clipped the pink gel accessory back in his dark hair. Orpheus has to readjust it so that it wouldn't fall off. He smirks, his cheeks covered in way too much red power blush and his lips overlined with sparkly lip gloss (he has no idea why this child has makeup to begin with), "thanks kid."

Said kid, eyes lined with matte liner, cheeks drawn with crooked hearts (what? If she can put makeup on him, he could put makeup on her), exclaims, "think yew!"

Orpheus laughs. But then he catches himself when Matthew joins in, so his face falls.

He clears his throat and shifts onto his butt, removing the guitar strap form his body, "c'mere, let me teach you how to play Ba Ba."

"BA BA BLACK SHEEP?!" she excitedly jumps to his lap.

He grunts at the impact but only adjusts her on his thigh and places the electric guitar on her.

She excitedly grabs onto the neck of the instrument and begins to strum with her little fingers.

"Ouch," she gasp, pulling her hand back at the unforeseen snip her soft finger received from the sharp steel strings.

"Shit," Orpheus mutters, taking her hands and inspecting it before handing her the pick in his hand, "here." He places the pick between her fingers and guides her arm into a slow strumming motion.

The girl's jaw drops at the sound she was able to produce. She looks back at her brother and lights up, stars in her baby girl eyes.

Orpheus chuckles instinctively, "yoooo, you did that! Gnarly bruh."

"NARY!" she squeals and makes sudden attempts to stand from his lap.

" 'M ORPHY!" she calls, just as Orphy leans in and adjusts the straps on her, so that she could carry the guitar easier.

Orpheus' stomach drops as the girl struggles to her feet, but with a little help, she gets up and slowly turns to him, smiling from ear to ear as the guitar slowly slipped from her grip.

Once she had a better grasp on the electric instrument, she slowly walks to the pedal board and steps on one of the knobs, just as she saw her older sibling do. The thing was, she was too light to actually turn on the effect, and so Orpheus presses down on it to enable it.

She begins to sing Ba Ba Black Sheep in a high key, and skids the plastic magenta pick back and forth over the pickup. With one hand pressed firmly on the neck, she effectively mutes out most of the sounds she would have produced, and yet, it could not be denied that her performance was stellar.

Orpheus thinks it must run in the family (she gets it from him).

"BRAVA!" Matthew calls from the side, making her turn to him and smile bright.

The way she looks at the raven in delight makes Orpheus scowl at him. This was why he shifted on his knees and clapped his hands, cheering much louder, "BRAVISSIMA!"

Matthew flutters upward, "STUPENDA!"

Orpheus turns to the bird as he flies over the girl, making her squeal in glee. Drats... his Italian was stunted.

So, he rains her with Greek compliments, but she was too busy watching the bird fly around to notice.

Stupid bird.

By the time they're caught, Orpheus had successfully and impressively taught her how to do a C chord, as well as an Em chord. Baby girl tried her best to shift between them to actually play a progression, but her little fingers could barely hang on, so in the end, Orpheus magicked the chords (sat behind her and did the chords himself) as the girl did her darndest to strum, and she gratefully giggled as the two doting on her cheered for her performance.

It was Dream that caught the children playing together. Well, in truth, they weren't really caught, because he knew everything that was going around in his realm. He had felt a disturbance from within the vault and knew it was his son stealing his confiscated object (confiscated precisely because he was nasty to his sister once before) even though he was preoccupied. But since he had better things to do, he let it slide.

Dream took me by the hand and lead me quietly down the hall, intent on showing me something. I was really nervous to see what it was, considering the fact he kept rubbing my knuckles and muttered I should try not to react too much.

Needless to say, I had to bite him on his shoulder to shut myself up.

Dream broke into a smile as he felt me wrap my arms around him from behind. He brushes my arms gently and turns to me from over his shoulder, "they've been together ever since Orpheus arrived. He has been teaching her to play his instrument"

I muffle my mewl and feel my bottom lip quiver at the sight of my beaming little girl, giggling with her older brother.

Dream looks back at them and whispers, "shall we join them?"

"No!" I mutter quickly, "let them-" I choke on my words as I feel myself begin to sob, "let them have their moment."

"WOW KID!" Matthew coos, "YOU'RE PROBABLY THE BEST GUITARIST IN THE WORLD!"

Orpheus eyes him for that, knowing he was trying to egg him on, but then he melts when the girl giggles. He cannot contain the gasp that leaves him when he hears her say, "I fink Orphy iz- his GREATEST!"

The raven laughs, "hear that?" He turns to tease him, "she th-- ... ... are you crying?"

"NO! THERE'S SAND IN MY EYE-" sniffle- "M-MY DAD'S A JERK!"

Dream makes a hmp sound and feels me laugh against him before I start crying even harder.

[gabessquishytum]

the ask about Orpheus running away from Dream and Calliope: OBVIOUSLY they’re both like “clearly the problem with our relationship is we need a third person! Hob will fix everything for us! Sexily!” And Hob is like “sure :)) yeah I’ll be your dom :))))” and Dream and Calliope high five and then Hob ties them up and, once again, orders them to talk. They’re both like “wat” and Hob is like “you’re both idiots, fucking me isn’t how you fix your relationship, you just want an easy solution. Also if I’m joining this mess it’s not going to be as your therapist jfc”

Dream and Calliope feel properly chastised, and do their best to actually discuss their problems while Hob makes himself tea.

Hob will eventually dom them in a more fun way, and the three of them figure out how to all have a healthy relationship together. It’s just a lot of Hob squirting them both with a spray bottle when they start to argue at first.

(Orpheus and Robyn are also given spray bottles. It definitely gives Dream and Calliope some perspective on how ridiculous they’re being when their son has to spray them in the face to feel comfortable not running away when they fight.)

-🦇

Alsksjfhshah poor Hob. If only he wasn't so desperately attracted to wet cat people.

I like the idea of Dream and Calliope 1) waking up to the fact that their marriage troubles are hurting their son and trying to fix it because of that but also 2) using Hob as motivation to fix their relationship. Every time they feel like giving up, one of them will remind the other "if we quit now, then we don't get dommed by Hob!" and they go right back to working on therapy stuff/communication/intimacy issues.

After a couple of months Hob sits down with Dream and Calliope again while Orpheus and Robyn play on the swing set. Dream and Calliope basically give a presentation about how they've been trying really hard on their marriage and actually have made progress, but they still want Hob to enter the relationship. Not to fix anything, just because they like him.

And hey, emotional maturity is sexy. Hob agrees to give it a go, as long as the kids are top priority. Dream and Calliope totally high five under the table.

Yes, the spray bottle may be implemented during the first scene the Hob has planned for them. Bad little bratty kittens need to be punished somehow.

[im-not-corrupted]

For my contribution to mermay, have the second chapter to like doves, falling to the currents aka my Mer!Hob fic! Read part one on Tumblr here or read the entire thing on ao3 here.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Merman!Hob, Human Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, the fantasy is very vague but like. mermaids., Dream of the Endless | Morpheus has Depression, Grief/Mourning, deals with the death of Orpheus, and Dream and Calliope's divorce, Brief suicidal ideation, Near Death Experiences, Drowning, Touch-Starved Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, POV Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Arranged Marriage, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus Saves Hob Gadling, Developing Friendships

—————

He rests for a good week or so. Not out of any true desire to do so—every part of him wants desperately to return to the beach, to see if what he saw there was real, to see if the merman waits for him. A foolish desire, that; if he was real, then the fact that he even bothered to save Morpheus in the first place was a miracle in and of itself. There is no reason for him to wait for Morpheus's return, especially when Morpheus gave no indication he planned to go back.

No, he rests on the orders of Unity Kincaid, the doctor who took one look at him upon his return to the palace and demanded he take some time to recover. At this point, he had yet to see his parents. Whether they had been alerted to either his survival or his arrival at the palace, he didn’t know. He also didn’t particularly care, and still doesn’t—their disappointed glances, the sternness in their faces during their last conversation, remains all too easy to recall. While he is still so exhausted, and questions his sanity just a little more whenever somebody tells him that his survival is a miracle as he only just manages to stop himself from mentioning his fish-tailed saviour, he doesn't want to see them.

Not only because he does not want to deal with their disappointment yet again, but also because he does not want to talk to them about the prospect of marriage again. Somehow, the two of them saw fit to bring it up before he left for Orpheus's funeral. It is your duty as prince to this kingdom, his mother had snapped at him. You failed with Princess Calliope. No matter. You may take another bride from a neighbouring kingdom and strengthen our ties to them, or marry some Lady of our own kingdom.

He can't comprehend how they might see fit to bring this up while the loss of both his son and his wife remain unhealed wounds to his heart. And when they brought it up, he had been made both angry and ashamed—ashamed for failing, ashamed for being selfish enough to not want to marry some other lady for the sake of his duties, and angry that these things were demanded of him. He is the third son in line to the throne. The chances of him taking the throne are slim. He should not matter in the grand scheme of things, yet his parents seem insistent on holding him to duties he doesn't want to follow through with.

After Calliope, the idea of marriage...he can't do it. Perhaps in another three or four years, if his title truly does call for it. And with no true argument to make—his parents do not sympathise with his losses and don't seem to see them as a reason for disregarding his duties—he has no way to avoid any decision regarding such arrangements.

So he hears Unity's orders to rest and locks himself in his chambers, glad for the excuse to spend time to himself, and more than glad that he has yet to run into either his parents or the siblings he has a more rocky relationship with than the one he has with Telute, despite the way he desires to run out to that beach again, to see if the merman is there, to see if any of it had been real.

Chances are, it was all some elaborate hallucination. By the time he wakes up the next afternoon after finally laying down to rest after what feels like years but really couldn't have been more than half a day, surely—he still isn't sure how long he was unconscious for, and vows to ask Lucienne at some point—he is half-convinced that the merman, and whatever conversation the two held on that beach, were nothing more than a product of near-drowning, and perhaps heat stroke too. He has the sunburn to go with that particular hypothesis, and after waking initially, much of his skin is red and raw and painful. He refuses to move for a good while when he realises just what price he now has to pay for laying on that beach for so long, feeling utterly miserable.

Heat stroke, then. Yes. Hallucinations is not a symptom he associates with such a thing, but he supposes there’s a first time for everything. He returns to Doctor Kincaid, who takes one look at his uncomfortable expression and too-red skin he knows will peel uncomfortably soon and hands him a salve she promises will help, then demands he returns to resting. He is not to overexert himself, after all, and he does exactly as she orders with minimal complaint. (The salve does help, a soothing chill that battles the fire of his skin. He makes a mental note to himself to thank the doctor the next time he sees her—which, he reckons, will not take too long. She has said already that she shall check on him soon.)

Despite dismissing the merman on the beach as an hallucination and dismissing it as simply too much time spent in the sun after near drowning, the urge to return to the beach remains, lurking under his skin with such determination he fears he may go mad with it, and is worsened every time he looks out to his large, ceiling-high windows that face the sea and remembers the way the sun caught on the golden flecks of the merman's eyes. His imagination has always been particularly strong—his parents have always expressed disappointment over this, tutting and telling him firmly that he should not ‘spend so much time with your head among the clouds, Morpheus’—but there are some things, he thinks, not even he can make up. That shade of gold, for example—he wracks his brain and yet cannot come up with a colour that feels remotely similar to what he saw that day. It does not feel right when he tries to replicate the way the merman looked at him inside his own head, like his eyes were twin suns of their own and had the same pull, the same power, as the one that hung high in their sky. He was awed at the sight of them on that beach, and there are some things even his imagination cannot come up with. 

Each time he finds himself staring out at the sea and wandering down this tangent, he forces himself away. The sea still looks beautiful despite the storm he witnessed, despite the fact that he's now all-too aware of just how much brutality lurks beneath the waves. He pushes away the memory of the merman’s voice—one of the few things he can remember clearly, which only further reinforces the idea that the afternoon he spent with him was nothing but a figment of his own mind—and stalks away from the windows, swallowing down guilt and letting it tear open his trachea on the way down. It has not even been six full months since Orpheus's death, since Calliope left him for letting their son die. Yet in his weakest moment, he had somehow allowed himself to imagine up the merman in all his beauty, sun-bright and lovely. It feels unfair to those he lost to dream up somebody so objectively lovely despite his strangeness, cruel to think of him instead of those he lost.

Acknowledging that does not make the desire to find the merman again any lesser, but the guilt is strong enough he closes the window so he cannot hear the waves of the sea crashing against the rocks of the cliff. And for a week, he busies himself with reading as he regains his strength and his sunburn begins to heal, his discomfort growing a bit less by the day. There are many books in his rooms. Many of them, he has read before. Some he returns to for some modicum of comfort and lets himself drown in the nostalgia and longing they bring up. Some have yet to be read at all, and there is a new stack of books on top of his desk that he's never seen before.

When he approaches them, he spots a note written on white parchment in neat, swooping cursive he knows to be Lucienne's hand resting on the leather-bound cover of the first book in the pile. He picks it up and reads it quickly, chest swelling with gratitude as he does so.

Your Highness,

I figured you may be in need of some new entertainment while condemned to bedrest, my Lord. I thought you may enjoy them, and that they may ease the weight on your shoulders for a time.

Yours, Lucienne.

He places the note back on his desk, making a quick mental note to thank her whenever he sees her next, and then takes the stack in his hands. He follows Unity's orders and rests, slowly making his way through Lucienne's stack of books, which ranged from awful, trashy romance novels he consumes regardless of their quality and heart-wrenching tragedies that leave him feeling a little hollow and terribly lost, and resolves not to think about the merman with golden eyes who called him pretty even when he sat on death’s door.

+++

Not thinking about him doesn't work. His memory follows Morpheus through his rest days and then longer. After a few days, that memory is one of the few things that lingers from his near-death experience. His throat still feels scratchy, but his chest hurts less. With enough sleep, the physical exhaustion leaves him. (Despite that, he still does not feel truly rested. Without the bone-deep exhaustion that demands he lay his head to a pillow and sleep for the next ten years, all that remains is the more metaphysical ache in his chest. It is all so much, grief and misery overwhelming him in equal measures. It drains him, but he is not physically tired, so his body does not allow him rest. After a couple days, when his body is better healed, he falls back into the patterns he fell into before his journey for Orpheus's funeral, and sleep becomes difficult for him once more. Each and every time he closes his eyes, he sees Orpheus's face in his mind's eye. It makes sleep difficult.) 

He is called to eat with his family the day his ordered bed rest ends, who express their sympathies for his "difficult journey" and do not say much else. He is grateful for that—his parents have never been particularly good at caring about any of their children, so he expects nothing else from them as he sits at the grand table and is brought food he hardly touches. It is better that they offer him sympathies they didn't truly mean than bring up marriage or alliances or any other number of horrid things they could possibly come up with.

So Morpheus sits in silence between his elder sister and younger sibling's chairs, avoids Telute's searching, worried glances, and simply listens. Nyx and Cronos speak only to ask questions of the others, falling silent when they lose interest, which happens quickly enough until either sibling mentions something that may tarnish the family's reputation. He does not mind sitting in silence—there is little he wishes  to say either way.

After years of family dinners, he knows exactly how these things go. As soon as he opens his mouth, his younger sibling, Epithuma, will say something to goad him until he either grows frustrated enough to snap back or leave. Both of those options earn him their parent's ire; it is the only reason Epithuma has ever decided to bother him so. Telute claims it is due to him paying them a lack of attention, but Morpheus does not believe that to be true. Though the two of them were close when they were younger—as close as Epithuma and Aponia were now—as they grew, his sibling developed a hatred for him he still does not understand the origins of. They needled him, caused chaos that ended only in disaster for him, and have made little effort to hide their dislike of him. He misses them vaguely, in the sense that he misses only what they once had but would be reluctant to return to it if given the opportunity.

Yes, it is best he remains silent. The events of the last few months serve only as ammunition in his sibling's mouth. He does not wish to hear their take on Calliope's leaving of him, nor does he wish for them to detail his obvious failures. Those he knows well and has already internalised. He has no doubt Epithuma will find the most scathing way to word such things. He does not wish to hear it.

He manages to get out of that family dinner with his sanity only just intact, and without inducing anybody's frustration of him. Their parents do not call him back, and make no effort to talk to him, so he slips back to his chambers with the intention of disappearing until he is called out next.

That is interrupted by Telute, who manages to clutch onto his arm as he walks away. The touch is abrupt enough to startle him and he spins around, more than a little panicked until he sees it is his dear sister. She smiles at him, but it is a tentative thing too full of concern for him to find any comfort in it. "I didn't mean to startle you, brother," she tells him, and frowns. "Did you not hear me calling you?"

He shakes his head, and pretends he doesn't see the way her lips tighten in displeasure. "Can I help you, sibling?" And then, because he had forgotten that she, too, had been on that ship with him, he asks quieter, "How are you faring?"

She blinks at him, and the guilt he has become far too acquainted with grows thorns, tearing at him. It is selfish of him, to have not thought of her sooner. To have not asked after her. “As well as can be, I suppose. Though I didn’t nearly drown, so I have that going for me. Are you well, brother?”

The abruptness to her voice startles him. He does not know how to answer and stands in front of her, floundering, trying desperately to grasp for something to say that might soothe her. It is a difficult task, and in the end all he can think of saying is, “I am tired, sister.”

That one sentence can mean a good many things. When Unity Kincaid checked over him, he said the same thing—I am tired. Only at that point, he was talking about physical exhaustion, about his desire to sleep and not wake for another ten years so his body might not feel weighed down by lead.

Telute’s face softens in a way that suggests she understands, or at least knows, which way he means it in. “Would you like to walk through the gardens with me?” she asks. “I could use the company.”

It does not sound pitying, the suggestion. In fact, it sounds honest. His sister wants to walk through the gardens for a while, and she wants him to keep her company.

It is that honesty, and the lack of pity, that makes him move from where he stands in the hallway, holding an arm out for her. She threads hers through his, linking their elbows together, and gives him a warm, lovely smile. It feels out of place, that smile. Too bright when every part of his mind seems to be swallowed by dark clouds.

He does not complain. Telute’s presence soothes some of the ache inside of him, and he cannot help but be grateful for that. The two of them didn’t talk very much on the way to Orpheus’s funeral. That, he knows, was his fault entirely. When words came to him these days—and they so rarely did, whatever part of him that found joy from engaging in conversation with people like Telute and Lucienne disappearing almost entirely, making talking far more effort than it is worth—they tend to come out sharp. Weapons he doesn’t intend to use, weapons he doesn’t know are there waiting to be used, and yet weapons all the same.

He knows, in his grief, that he has been…particularly awful, he supposes. He is aching, and wonders why everybody else doesn’t hurt with him. It seems unfair, but he is aware enough to know none of those he is close to deserve his ire. If anything, it is only he who does—he who is responsible for Orpheus’s death, who drove Calliope away. He resolves, as the two of them walk out into the gardens, to turn those weapons inwards. If he bleeds from their impact, then all the better. At least it would be he and not those who are innocent in this, whose intentions are only good.

All the while, Telute talks to him. He is grateful for that, for the fact that he needs not engage in conversation. With anybody else, with any of his other siblings, he would be expected to speak back. To truly talk, instead of remaining a silent, impassive companion, regardless of how difficult it has become to find the words he wants to say. (It feels ironic, that. When they were younger, Telute used to call him the Prince of Stories, in reference to his love for reading. He had penned his own books at the time, too, whenever he had a moment to spare, filling journals with his own stories that would never see the light of day. It was an escape from his duties, from the binds of his family, and he relied on this escape heavily. He did not anymore—his parents demanded he grow up, and he saw the logic in that.

Now, he cannot even take part in a conversation properly without feeling terribly drained. Oh, how the mighty do fall.)

Telute does not speak of anything of particular importance, but that hardly matters to him. He hangs onto every word he can, listening eagerly to the stories she paints. She talks of the efforts Lucienne and Jessamy went into finding him, how grateful she was that he was alive and well, how terrified she had been to see him fall overboard. She talks a little about her own duties, avoiding mention of Calliope and Orpheus all together. On occasion, she asks questions for him—small things that are easy to answer. Have you healed well? and Have you read anything particularly great yet? and Have you returned to Kincaid for another checkup?

He answers all of those with small, one word answers. She beams at him, unfazed by how little he talks, and he is so very grateful for her, more than he believes himself capable of expressing in words. Whatever he can come up with now would not do her justice, nor properly express his appreciation.

Eventually, they make it out to the gardens. He has not been here in quite some time—beautiful though they are, they are wrought with memories he wishes to stay away from. Though the gardens are tended by the palace staff—and well-tended to at that, Morpheus always thought Mervynn deserved a larger pay for how much work he put into making this place so lovely and keeping it so tidy—there is a whole section of those that, once upon a time, belonged to his sister Del.

They are still her gardens, only they belong to her memory now. She found her death at her own hand. Morpheus had been the one to find her corpse, laying in a pool of blood with her wrists slit, an expression upon her face that was far too peaceful for such a horrifying scene. Their parents covered it all up—There can be no weakness in the House of de Endeles, Nyx snapped when he had protested, and she did not even seem to grieve for her youngest daughter at all—and resolved to have these parts of the gardens remade in their image.

It would’ve erased any memory of her. It angered each of them, one of the few things that he and his siblings agreed on unanimously. They are all so different, with varying opinions. They clash, each and every one of them, with their own favourites among them.

That time, though, they grew angry and it bonded them, just for a time. Long enough to work on the garden themselves, keeping it alive as Delirium imagined. Long enough to keep tending to the flowers and bother everybody their parents hired long enough for them to forget their plans of redoing them.

Now, it remains just as beautiful. Delirium had an eye for colour, and no new flowers had been planted in this area of the gardens since her death. They wanted to make sure it remained the same, how she wanted it to be, and so her area of the gardens is a riot of colour against the green hedges and the paved stone floor. She had gotten her hands on rather beautiful exotic flowers he would not know the names of had he not played a part in keeping the gardens like this, all of them various shades of blues and reds and purples. Lovely and wonderful, almost hypnotising to look at. They caught the sunlight with soft petals and glowed, turning their faces towards the sun to catch the most of it.

Telute leads him to a bench in the corner and urges him to sit beside her. He does so, and finds himself enjoying this moment of peace. The air is sweet, heavy with the scent of flowers. A gentle breeze messes with his hair, a lover’s caress against his face, and he closes his eyes to relish in it. The sun blesses him with its warmth, generous in its love, and he soaks it all in. Here, for just a moment, he feels…alive. It has been a long while since he has felt as though he is truly alive, instead of simply existing.

“Talk to me, brother,” Telute asks him after a couple beats of silence. When he snaps out of his reverie and looks towards her, her expression is open, compassionate. He does not like it. He does not like the earnestness, nor the idea that she perceives him to be so weak she has to ask this of him. “I understand you have been through…a hard time recently. I loved Orpheus, and though  I was only his aunt, I miss him dearly. I cannot begin to fathom what you must be feeling, Morpheus. Only, I know you well, and I know you’re going to keep everything to yourself until you can no longer handle it. I do not want this for you.”

He clenches his jaw. Against his will, anger rises. She does not know. She does not understand the constant agony in his chest, the thorns of guilt curled around his heart and his stomach until he fears he will be sick with it, until he becomes convinced that the thorns have punctured his heart enough that he is bleeding out. What right does she have to claim to know him when he does not even know himself? When he finds himself completely unable to differentiate himself from his own grief and regret and his guilt?

Perhaps, he thinks, perhaps that is who he is now. Perhaps he is only a vessel for agony and grief, both his and Calliope’s. Perhaps he is nothing but a place to store anger at both the world and the circumstances surrounding Orpheus’s death, and whatever he had been previously had been burned away.

He hates the idea that he lost himself so easily. He hates the idea that he does not know who he is without the agony that holds his hand through every waking moment of every damn day. And he hates, more than anything, how he does not know how to erase this from himself.

Does he even want to? To erase the guilt, the grief, would be to erase Orpheus, too. And he wants to remember his son. He does not want to let go of him, of the child he tried his best to pour all of his love into. It simply wasn’t enough, and now he doesn’t want to let go of his regret, either. He deserves this, for driving Orpheus away. For pushing him towards tragedy, towards an early grave. If he is to let go of his grief, his guilt and regret, it would be the same as saying goodbye to one he doesn’t think he’d ever be ready to say goodbye to.

“I miss Orpheus,” he tells Telute honestly. He does not speak of the void in his chest, consuming anything that isn’t exhaustion. “I do not see the point of any of this without him.”

Between them, silence grows, until his sister offers, “I know you do, Dream. Only—only you are still alive. There is no use in dwelling on the past. Perhaps performing your duties may…help you. To get out of your own head.”

Morpheus fails to understand how marriage would aid him here. It seems the kind of thing that would only put every wound that has yet to heal in full-focus, something that might carve them deeper. “Is that your advice?” he asks, and doesn’t manage to keep the poison from his voice. Later, he will hope his sister forgives him for that, or at least doesn’t think about it too heavily. For now, all he thinks of is, There is no use dwelling on the past, as though the two of them did not stand atop a cliff before a headstone with the name Orpheus de Endeles engraved into it. As though his son is not dead, a fact that can never be changed or made better. “To focus on my duties?”

She grips his hand, holds it tightly in hers. Her skin is so much warmer than his. “I have struggled too, brother,” she tells him gently. The tenderness of it is agonising. He wants sharpness. He wants knives to dig deep and bury themselves in his chest and hurt like the rest of him. He does not deserve tenderness to soothe him, to make things easier. He killed his son. He deserves the pain of whatever she might possibly be able to say. “Not the same as you do now, of course. But I realised I’m here to serve them, to make things better by performing my duties and acting the part.”

His shoulders slump, defeat weighing them down. He has never been particularly good at this part. At ignoring the way playing the part grates on him, even if he has always been good at it. “Very well, sister,” he says softly. There is not much to say to that. There is not much to say to her at all, now.

She places her hand on his and squeezes it gently. No doubt it is meant to be comforting; all it reminds him of is the way his duties feel like a cage, closing in around him at all times.

+++

He gives in soon enough. His mind keeps straying, no matter how much he tries to take his sister’s advice to heart. And he does try, truly. Yet there is nothing to stop the way his thoughts eventually turn towards the man on the beach, the merman, a being that should not exist and might never have in the first place.

There is a possibility that he does exist, though. And that possibility, however small, combined with the burning curiosity, is enough to send him out of the castle a couple of days after the conversation with his sister. He takes his horse and races down to the beach he was found on—it is not too far. In fact, he is fortunate to have washed up on a beach inside his kingdom, let alone so close to the castle itself.

It is the first moment of peace he feels like he’s gotten since he was deemed well enough to stop resting. His mare is fast and the air stings at his face and rips strands of his hair from the tie he used to pull it back and it is lovely to be aware of something that isn’t everything he’s lost.

It is freeing, the short journey. His heart soars in his chest the further he gets from the castle and perhaps, even if this trip proved nothing about the existence of the being who saved him, he might do this more regularly. Even if it’s for a handful of hours, the time spent away from the castle will no doubt be invaluable.

When he reaches the beach, it is quiet. That makes sense. It is late, and the beach itself is far enough from any villages or towns that it makes the trip…not unneccesary, but longer. He is moved only by his curiosity, a thing that burns inside him, and the desire to find out if anything he saw when he woke up on this beach a couple of weeks later was real. Inside his head, he tells himself that is impossible—the merman was not real, because such things are only fantasy. Yet his curiosity is a thing of fire, catching quickly, and it has burned away most sense of logic or rationality.

He ties his horse at the top of the beach, deciding to make the rest of the way on foot. Not for any great reason—really, he does so only because he wants to feel the air on his face and the setting sun on his skin unhindered. There is joy to be found in wandering towards the edge of the sea until the waves lap at his boots, in letting himself close his eyes and simply feel.

He does not remember much of this beach, for his only time here had been spent waking up after near drowning. But it is just as beautiful as he remembers. The simple act of standing at the edge of the water with the cool wind brushing his hair like a lover’s caress settled something within him he can’t quite explain, let alone articulate. It allows him to simply—exist, he supposes, without expectation or anything of the sort.

When he finally opens his eyes, the sight before him is breathtaking, and entirely different to seeing the sea from his chambers at the top of his tower. The setting sun glistens against the waves, making them almost blinding to look at, and the sky is so clear. It stretches out for seemingly forever, further than he could ever possibly discover himself, and there is something beautiful in that. He wonders if this is what sailors must feel when they set out to sea—if that is what all travellers feel when they head out onto an open road, no rules or companions save those of nature. Do they, too, feel like if they were to only take one step forward, they would obtain some kind of freedom?

It is easy to imagine, there at the edge of the sea, that this may be the answer to all of his problems. His way out of marriage, of his duties to a crown that will never sit on his head yet continues to bind him anyway, to a throne akin to a noose about his neck.

There isn’t even any fear as he stares out at the waves. He thinks there should be. He thinks he should not look out at the sea and yearn, not after it nearly killed him. Not when he can still feel water in his lungs, in his throat, like an echo. He knows what rage the ocean can be inspired to in a mere few minutes—yet the tranquillity of it now remains alluring, a call to home.

He is so far into his own head that he is entirely unaware of another’s presence until a voice calls out to him, “You aren’t planning on walking in, I hope?”

He blinks. Instantly, the voice is familiar to him, and Morpheus spins around. Except—except the beach still remains empty, the only sign that anybody is there the footprints he himself had left behind when walking down to the sea.

Panic claws at his insides, because—because what if this is some kind of trick, what if there is somebody here who intends to hurt him? Though he knows he should not, he had left the palace without warning anybody. Not Telute, not Lucienne or Jessamy. If—if there is somehow somebody hiding from him, if he is to be hurt or injured here, he would not be found for some time. Not unless somebody stumbles upon him by happenstance, and even then that depends solely on whether his hypothetical attacker would leave his slowly cooling body there on the beach.

A laugh pierces the air. It does nothing to soothe the panic, the urge to run run run rushing through his veins. “In front of you, pretty one.”

Though it doesn’t make sense, he looks back towards the ocean. It is as beautiful as ever. It is only when he turns to his left that he—that he sees him. The merman from before, from when he had woken up on this beach weeks ago. He looks exactly the same—chestnut hair framing his face, golden eyes shining in the light of the sunset.

The panic disappears, replaced by something kinder. “It’s you," he breathes, and despite himself, he feels awe bloom behind his ribs.

A smile curves his lips upwards. It feels warm, joyful, and Morpheus thinks he may be addicted to that look already. “Indeed,” he says, and his voice. It is the same voice, he realises now. And he had called Morpheus pretty one. "And it’s you."

“You are real,” he says, and oh, what a miracle this is. What a wonder.

“As real as you are,” the merman says with a shrug. He’s still further in the sea than Morpheus is, and they call across the water at one another. “Though you still haven’t answered my question.”

“What—? Oh. Right. No, I wasn’t planning on…walking in,” he answers awkwardly. He stares out at the distance between them and does debate it for a while, if only to be close to the impossible creature he had been unable to stop himself from thinking about since returning to the castle. It would be easy to cross the distance, he supposes—and if he underestimates the shallowness of the waters his merman currently looks at him from, well, he can always save him again.

The idea is almost enough to make him laugh. Almost. It bubbles up and demands to be let out, but he shoves it down. It is simply the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, let alone the idea that he might be able to rely on a merman to save him should he drown again. It is the kind of idea that belongs more in fiction books than any reality Morpheus knows of, and yet.

And yet the merman smiles further and looks glad to hear his answer. Yet he is real. That, or the sea simply sends Morpheus insane. Both, he supposes, are options. “Good. I’d hate to have to fish you out of the water again.”

That, then, is a no to being saved if he were to accidentally drown again. It is enough to dissuade him entirely from the idea of stepping forward and closing the distance between the two of them, though it isn’t enough to stop him from wondering. If he were to touch his fingertips to the sun-tanned skin of the impossible creature before him, what would it feel like? Would the merman like it? Would Morpheus?

He thinks he would. He is, foolishly, rather enchanted by this beautiful creature in front of him. He also thinks the ability to touch the merman properly would also confirm whether he truly is going insane or not.

“What are you doing here?” he asks after a couple of moments. It is a worthwhile question, he thinks—the ocean is a large place. He had spent only a handful of weeks on its waves, but he knows he hardly got to see even most of it. There is simply so much of it, stretching out so far. Surely there are greater things for this merman to be doing than waiting around this beach.

“Waiting for you, obviously,” the merman says, as though that makes any amount of sense.

“…Why?”

“Well, I wanted to see if you’re alright, is all. You were pretty out of it when we talked. It’s nice to see you standing on your feet and aware.”

“Yes, it is a…vast improvement on how I was then,” Morpheus admits. He at least isn’t dying, which is definitely some progress. He’s still convinced he’s going insane, though. “But still. How did you know I would return?”

“I didn’t. Just kept checking the beach for a bit to see if you’d return, when I had time enough to do so.” He shrugs again, a little half-hearted thing that looks, bafflingly, almost self conscious. A self conscious merman. Alright. It’s certainly the weirdest thing that has ever happened to him personally, but he isn’t going to complain. “What are you doing here?”

“I…Same as you,” he says slowly. “I wanted to see you. Wanted to know if you are real, or if I just…imagined you.” He certainly looks like the kind of thing he might come up with in the quiet of his own mind. Like a dream, he thinks, and the thought is ironic enough it makes him chuckle quietly. “Didn’t expect to see you, though.”

He grins. His teeth look…sharper, Morpheus notices, than his own do. He wonders at that. “Like I said, I’m as real as you are. So, what? You wanted to find me just so you can make sure you aren’t going mad?”

“Something like that.” If he was going mad, his parents would not take it well. Would they contain him within the walls of the castle, in his bedroom, like they did for Delirium? Cover up his disappearance in court with rumours, hide the truth beneath lies? Tell the world that he has simply fallen ill? There is no room for weakness among them—if he was to go insane, it would be as good as his death. The fact that the merman before him is real is a comfort to him, one he finds himself incredibly grateful for. “Though I think I wouldn’t mind a conversation with you, too, if you’re amenable. I have never met a merman before.”

“Ah, so that is what you want.” The merman’s face visibly sours, a bitter note creeping into his voice. “Knowledge. Secrets. Is that it?”

“…No? Nothing that you don’t want to share, that is. Just want to—know you, I suppose. You can talk about whatever you wish.”

The merman raises a brow, as though he doesn’t quite believe Morpheus is being truthful. “I see. And what do I get in return?”

“The same as I. Conversation.” When all he is met with is silence, he offers an olive branch. He has little clue as to whether it will mean anything to the other, but—“My name is Morpheus. Morpheus de Endeless. Though those I am close to call me Dream.”

“Dream.” He says it as though he savours it, that one single word. It sounds wonderful in his voice. Morpheus wants to hear it again and again and again. “Yes. This makes sense. I am Hob.”

Hob. It isn’t quite the name he would’ve expected from a creature as impossible, as mysterious, as this one. He hardly cares. It has a charming quality to it, and it makes him smile. “Then it is nice to meet you, Hob.” He steps away from the water. Hob watches him with hawk’s eyes as he steps far enough away that his clothes will not get soaked by the waves, until he sits on the sand. It is wet sand, which he knows will present its own problem, but he decides he will deal with that later. Better than returning to the palace with his clothes soaked through with sea water, anyway.

After a moment, Hob creeps closer. He cuts through the water with breathtaking ease, which—makes sense. He sits in the shallow end of the water, so the waves still lap at his skin, but now Morpheus can now see his tail once more, with all its golden scales and delicate-looking fins.

“Would you tell me about yourself, Dream?” the merman asks of him. The request is startling. “I confess, I have always been…fascinated by the lives you lead on the land.”

He smiles, strangely glad for the request. The tide will come in properly soon, he knows that, but until then—until then, he may offer Hob a couple stories, and he need not go home until he has to. “Very well,” he agrees, and he clears his throat. For the first time in a while, words come easy to him.

+++

When he returns to the palace, the place he reluctantly refers to as home, he is…tired, but not terribly so. His throat is unpleasantly dry after so much talking—he cannot remember the last time he talked so much all at once. Not since Orpheus was young and still requested bedtime stories, surely, and that feels like an entire lifetime ago. The Morpheus of then is not the same Morpheus that exists now. Though he has only lived without his son for a mere few months, the difference is startling. He thinks of how he had been before—lighter, his smiles coming easier—and wonders how that had ever been him. Wonders if he might somehow return to who he had been once, though dismisses this thought almost immediately. If he returned to who he was then, it would be akin to forgetting Orpheus, wouldn’t it? If he didn’t hurt and ache, he would simply be forgetting his son, and he couldn’t do that.

But he talked to the merman, who seemed to hang onto every word, until Hob told him he had to leave. (He did not ask Hob to stay longer, but—but the merman requested he return to the same beach at the same time in seven days, and Morpheus is not immune to the hope that shines in the merman’s golden eyes. He crumbled under the look and agreed—not that he minds the idea of returning to see him. The very opposite, in fact. He thinks of the next week, of returning to the beach once more, and for the first time in a long while, he feels as though he has something to look forward to.) And the words came easy to him, the stories he told falling from his lips easily.

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that the merman is, effectively, a stranger. Hob knows nothing of his plight, of the way he suffered these last few months, of the way he so easily failed at his duty. There is little judgement Hob can give him if he does not know Morpheus, and for that, he is grateful.

He did not talk about himself. He avoided that. Hob did not complain, and so his stories revolved around his siblings and gossip from the palace he overheard. Sometimes, he talked about Orpheus—he mentioned not that Orpheus was his son, nor that he currently lies inside a coffin buried under the ground. Those two facts are irrelevant to the stories. Instead, he mentioned his son’s love for music, the way he had the ability to move anybody in his nearby vicinity to tears. He mentioned the way his son’s laugh had been infectious—a trait he gained from Calliope, of that Morpheus has no doubt, for his own laugh is something harsher, grating and ugly—and the fact that he cared, so deeply.

It felt good. It still feels good as he leads his horse to the palace, refusing to acknowledge the way it feels a little like he rides to his own execution, instead thinking of the coming week. Hob’s companionship was—it was lovely, and calming, and he wants more of it. He wants it desperately, with a fire he recognises but refuses to think about directly. That is a fire that has brought him only pain and ruin—he would not subject Hob, who seems so good, so bright, to that. (He thinks he will not subject anybody to that again. He thinks of the last few times he has loved. His love is a terrible, brutal thing—it cannot be a coincidence, surely, that all those he has ever felt something for finds themselves miserable. His love is a curse. He will not subject any to that again, not while he can help it.)

Thankfully, he is not questioned as he leaves his horse by the stables, as the stablehand takes her inside. He is not questioned as he makes his way up to his chambers, and he does not even gain any confused or curious looks. That, he supposes, is due to the fact that he holds his cloak tightly around himself in case he failed to brush off all the sand that clung insistently to his clothes when he left the beach. There was little to be done for the sand on his boots, however—if he is careful about it, he will not be questioned about that, either.

When he makes it to his chambers, he changes into his nightclothes quickly. He is tired, yes, but it is not the kind of tired that would allow him to sleep just yet, not while the moon is still low in the sky. But he lets himself relax and rest, and when he does sleep eventually, for the first time since he left for Orpheus’s funeral, Morpheus falls asleep with a soft smile on his face.

[portkcys]

#𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚗. an introduction to ernie.

⌜ leo woodall, cis man, he/him, ⌟  welcome back to hogwarts, ERNIE MACMILLAN ! according to your file, you’re a TWENTY THREE year old PUREBLOOD. as i’m sure you remember, last spring had its challenges, but i’m confident you’ll take your studies more seriously this year. as a FIFTH year HUFFLEPUFF, focusing on HEALING AND MEDICINE, you’ve got a lot on your plate. our records show that you're INDUSTRIOUS and GENEROUS however, they seem to have left off that you're PRIDEFUL and REACTIVE. if i’m correct, you’re siding with THE LIGHT, which makes sense considering you’re known around the castle for smoothing down a perfectly pressed suit, the knowledge that you belong in any room you stand in, a stuffed animal buried under bedsheets, childhood dreams disintegrating under your fingertips, sitting on the roof with your friends to watch the sunset. let’s hope you make it through the year in one piece.

#𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚜.

FULL NAME: ernest cyneweard macmillan

NAME MEANING: ernest | serious and vigour. / cyneweard | royal guard. / macmillan | son of the bald one.

NICKNAME(S): ernie, ern, mac

DATE OF BIRTH: may 30th.

AGE: 23.

GENDER + PRONOUNS: cis man + he/him.

RELIGION: atheist.

#𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚜.

FATHER: cyneweard maximillian macmillan. newly strained relationship: cyneweard instilled a deep, almost dangerous, level of pride in his son. after all, they were macmillans: sacred, long-lived, survivors and protectors. it is this that is his downfall. he refuses to see that voldemort has returned, whether out of fear or just disbelief - an opinion that, for possibly the first time in his life, that ernie doesn't share. it's resulted in a chasm opening up between them and there's only a matter of time before they'll have it out.

MOTHER: andromache florence macmillan nee fawley. loving but distant: andromache was a good mother to her only child. she couldn't have anymore children after him, and even though that wasn't a rarity, she doted upon him -- sending care packages and money under the not always so watchful eyes of his father. they're somewhat strained at the minute, as she, most definitively out of terror, has taken her husbands side in believing that voldemort is not dead, but he's still in more contact with her than he is his father.

SIBLINGS: none applicable.

EXTENDED FAMILY: maximilian macmillan (paternal grandfather), briar macmillan nee fudge (paternal grandmother), alcott macmillan (paternal uncle, godfather), dorothea macmillan nee fawley (paternal aunt via marriage, godmother), edmund macmillan (cousin), perseus black (paternal uncle via marriage, deceased), elladora black nee macmillan (paternal aunt), dorea ollivander nee macmillan (paternal aunt), garrick ollivander iii (paternal uncle via marriage), osric fawley (maternal grandfather, deceased), winnifred fawley nee gamp (maternal grandmother, deceased), aeson macdougal (maternal uncle via marriage), isabella fawley macdougal (maternal aunt), morag macdougal (cousin), adira smith (maternal aunt via marriage, godmother), calliope smith nee fawley (maternal aunt, godmother), zacharias smith (cousin), deimos burke (maternal uncle via marriage, estranged), araminta burke nee fawley (maternal aunt, estranged), elspeth burke (cousin), octavian burke (cousin).

PETS: owl named peter, pygmy puff named wendy and a therapy kneazle named lily. 

ORIENTATION: demiromantic, closeted bisexual.

LOYALTY: hufflepuffs, mainly. the light.

#𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜.

HOUSE: hufflepuff. hufflepuff geminis stand out for being geniuses at what muggles like to call 'multitasking'. they can't just work on one project - they need to have eight or nine things going all at once, usually as close to the deadline as possible. they also tend to be a little more outspoken and extraverted than the average hufflepuff, who would rather sit near the back of the classroom and quietly take notes to study later. because they often bite off more than they can chew, they are always complaining of various ailments related to stress.

BLOOD STATUS: pureblood, member of the sacred 28. consists of at least nine generations of purebloods. the macmillan family are closely connected to the following pureblood families: blacks, burkes, smiths, fawleys, ollivanders and the macdougals. a noted entry must also be the fudges, who have been considered pedigreed purebloods for only two generations.

AMORTENTIA: tba.

WAND: acacia, phoenix feather core, 11 1/2 inches, flexible. acacia is a very unusual wand wood which created tricky wands that often refused to produce magic for anyone other than their rightful owner, it also withhelld its best effects from all but the most gifted witches and wizards. this sensitivity rendered them difficult to place. garrick ollivander ii kept only a small stock for those witches or wizards of sufficient subtlety, for acacia was not suited to what was commonly known as 'bangs-and-smells- magic. when well matched, an acacia wand matched any for power, though it was often underrated due to the peculiarity of its temperament. acacia wands were not used often, as in the wrong hands, it would either be overpowered or extremely weak. case in point: ernie's father once took ernie's wand to show him how to perform a spell, and the wand practically revolted from his touch and refused to emit even a singular spark. phoenix feather wands were capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer to reveal this. they showed the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards disliked. they were most picky about potential owners, their allegiance was hard won and they were the most difficult to tame and personalise. ernie has only ever felt his wand act of it's own accord once, and that was to save his life - he has never managed to feel even the slightest bit upset about this fact.

AREA OF STUDY: healing and medicine. the focus of magical healing practices and muggle medicine. ernie is most drawn to muggle surgical methods and devising ways to make them more effectively used as part of magical healing practices, as well as potion inventing.

CLUBS: member of the slug club and the wizarding wireless. ernie has been a member of the slug club since he first started at hogwarts. the wizarding wireless is new, though, something that came about after cedric passed. he couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, and well, he needed something productive to do and the wireless gave him that.

PATRONUS: boar. the wild boar is usually produced by those who are incredibly strong and noble. many who conjure the wild boar are normally down to earth and very reserved, but very dangerous and fierce when threatened. they are quick thinking, clever, and very competitive in battle, making these witches or wizards very confident when challenged. those who conjure the wild boar are incredibly honorable. they are excellent warriors and end to follow closely to tradition. the wild boar patronus normally belongs to those who are willing to fight for their beliefs and who are incredibly loyal. in short, it symbolises strength, power, athleticism, independence, avoidance of unnecessary conflict and defence.

BOGGART: voldemort over his friends corpse. he's never seen voldemort. there aren't any photos printed in newspapers, not even the old ones. just fear, hysteria disguised as normality. he doesn't need to, though. his nightmares provide him more than enough to be able to picture the man himself. the first time he saw his boggart after that lesson in third year - where it was a stone justin, by the way - he threw up.

#𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚜.

ETHNICITY: white.

NATIONALITY: british.

HAIR: blonde. short, heavily textured with added volume. low fade on the sides. product use is obvious - volumising mousse and matt pomade are preferred. gel is a no-go (what, you think he wants to look like a malfoy?)

EYES: blue.

SKIN: fair, unblemished. ernie takes very good care of his skin. people could call him vain, but he just considers it self-care and a normal part of his routine. okay, yeah, i'll admit the LED light he uses sometimes is a bit much, but who doesn't enjoy their skin looking good?

HEIGHT: 5’10”.

BUILD: mesomorph - athletic, heavy, naturally high muscle to fat ratio, medium bone structure, wide shoulders, narrow hips, ability to easily gain muscle mass, almost appears square. kibbe is natural - romantic.

FACECLAIM: leo woodall.

VOICE CLAIM: leo woodall.

#𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕.

TRAITS: + industrious, + generous, + intelligent, = competitive, = predictable, = obedient, - prideful, - reactive, - anxious.

STRENGTHS: potions, care of magical creatures, defense against the dark arts, natural inclination towards healing magics, rugby (part of an amateur league), apparition (soundless).

WEAKNESSES: transfiguration, divination, natural disinclination to dark magics, has panic attacks, flying.

#𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

born in norwich, norfolk — he is very much a stereotypical southern posh boy for a good chunk of his life, as well as being the only child and heir to his fathers ‘empire’. 

home schooled until the age of 11 when he was dumped head first into private school (the same one his father attended, no less), where he thrived. 

hit a growth spurt at age 13 and was nigh unrecognisable if not for the same blue of his eyes to the school staff at the beginning of the next term. 

signed a contract at the age of 14 that dictates the terms upon which he is, as the eldest and only son, to inherit the family fortune. one of the terms was that he find a pure or halfblooded wife with whom to have at least one child. 

his family has many hands in many pots — though they keep their hands much cleaner than the malfoy’s do, despite being just as proud as them of their status in society. 

was rather a stout child, and some would say he still is as an adult. but he’s mostly filled out the soft edges with muscle. 

tends to talk about himself when he’s nervous — which comes across as him being arrogant and a bit of a braggart. he comforts himself with possibly mind numbing facts about his long family history. 

he had no interest in choosing magical law for his area of study, much to his father’s chagrin. he instead chose healing — a profession his father had to be reminded is just as impressive. 

often distributes snacks from his care packages around his fellow hufflepuffs. he hates seeing others go hungry, even if they, like him, are too prideful to accept charity. 

suffers from panic attacks and a probably undiagnosed anxiety disorder, which he is unlikely to actually get diagnosed so long as he is under his father’s proverbial thumb. 

regrets his - in retrospect very hasty - actions in calling potter a cheat last year. he could not get out of bed for two days after he came back with cedric’s body, and only did so after hearing how scared one of his best friends sounded. 

he has taken up running when he cannot sleep. read: he has taken up running at any available moment. it clears his mind, gives him room to simply breathe again. rugby helps, too, though that’s more about the bruises left afterwards. 

he’s known about the entrance to the hogwarts kitchens since his first year — whenever the hufflepuffs have anything even small to celebrate, he’ll often be put in charge of putting all the food and drinks together.

his father was approached by voldemort’s followers back before ernie was born. ever since, they’ve been monitored near constantly and everyone who comes to their family home is subject to rigorous background checks. they’ve had their heads forcibly in the sand on the issue of voldemort’s return. 

believes voldemort is back, much to his parents irritation. he has been instructed to keep his head down, to ensure the family name is not muddied by the potter boy’s ‘delusions’. (yes, they know he is 23. no, they do not care that the average 23 year old is not being instructed on how to behave by their parents.) 

he hasn’t been disowned over this but tensions have risen. he spent the last three weeks of the summer holidays with justin rather than stay at home. 

went through a history of magic phase in first year — the boys in his dorm can still recite the names of the trolls in alphabetical order thanks to him jabbering on about it. 

feels incredibly lost, if we’re being honest with each other. he doesn’t like to let it show because he thinks it’s a weakness. the world is turning back to war again and he’s honestly terrified - for himself, for his family, for his friends. 

has had a series of failed relationships that ended in disaster. he, a big believer in the concept of true love, is known as a bit of a bleeding heart despite being, well. ernie. 

producer for the wizarding wireless club, often takes the night shift with luna but is known to show up at 4am for the morning shift, the maniac, bright eyed and bushy tailed to get to work. he has allotted slots to talk about therapy and remind people of the importance of attending your doctor/healer appointments regularly.

#𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍𝚜.

his hufflepuff crew..... his besties his beloveds his bastards? where r u!!!

his platonic soulmate(s)? he says there is more than enough love to go around

childhood friends

friends

people he used to tutor

people he still tutors

his cousins aka my fave hater zacharias smith wya…..?

enemies

academic rivals

exes

a friends with benefits turned soooo messy

bisexual awakening

[ofblockstarsandfeathers]

Chapter 41: Orpheus (noun.)

A poet and musician, son of Calliope, who followed his dead wife, Eurydice, to the underworld.

In which Ivor explores his options, Ellegaard watches polar bears, and we reconnect with someone we haven't heard from in a short while.

[honestlyboringperson]

Name: Sayaka Miki

Arcanas: Justice/Lovers

Personas: Calliope, Aphrodite

Our go-getter of the team and avid music fan, Sayaka is the same as we’ve seen in the anime, including her idealistic and black&white view on the world and justice. She finds Kyoko to be frustrating. If she has the power to defend the weak and protect the world, why isn’t she doing anything? Unlike in the anime, she is fortunately still alive by the end of the game. Hitomi still confessed her feelings to Kyousuke before she can, but this is after realizing that they just made the world closer to ending by defeating the 12 shadows.

Sayaka’s idealistic view on the world shatters and almost develops apathy syndrome due to it. But she manages to get a wake up call with the help of Madoka and Hitomi. After Madoka is forgotten by the world, she is still very hostile towards Homura, as she was there during Madoka’s last moments and still grieving over Madoka’s death.

PERSONAS

Sayaka’s initial persona is Calliope, of the Justice Arcana. Calliope is the muse of epic poetry, and is the mother of Orpheus. Epic poetry mainly focuses on myths and tales about heroes and the gods, fitting Sayaka’s “hero of justice” theme, and with Calliope being a muse, this also fits with her over arching theme of music. With Orpheus being the son of Calliope, this refers to Sayaka’s romantic troubles over Kyosuke. I mixed in a bit of a groom’s outfit to fit with Sayaka’s love problems but also a conductor’s dress to fit her music themes. Her helmet has pink lenses; literal rose coloured glasses.

After Hitomi and Madoka’s intervention, Sayaka gains the persona Aphrodite. Aphrodite is well known to be the goddess of love, romance, sex, all that gushy stuff but also her flighty and slightly inconsistent character. This of course, was based off of Lisa Silverman’s evolution, learning to love herself, reflected by her Persona going to a simple spirit to the full blown god of love. Aphrodite’s character can also fit with Sayaka’s former disposition, being different to different people; hostile to Homura, enthusiastic and friendly towards Madoka, frustrated with Kyoko, etc. Aphrodite, in comparison to Calliope has lighter armor and her helmet doesn’t cover her head entirely, referring to Sayaka’s maturing mindset; no longer holding herself to an impossible standard of good and justice.

[snarkythewoecrow]

we're pretending it's still wip wednesday

@kingofdarkness00 is always lovely and tagging me, so here is me aiming to actually do one close to the right day

okay, another random snippet from the dream/hob angst fest with all the tropes, yes, believe it or not, this snippet is actually from the same fic... what can I say? lack of inspiration and random ideas never seems to be a problem, but um, not sure how to set this up, except, think post all the trauma i put hob through, hob going through a rough recovery, and dream sorta struggling a bit, being a bit frustrated, emotions are hard and shit, so basically, this snippet is a bit of the scene where dream retreats to seek council of the one person who he trusts to truly understand him and what hob is going through, even if he feels a bit selfish for doing it... enter calliope stage right please....

Calliope ducked her head. “I would be remiss if I were to say you appeared well—as for a god of sleep and dreams, you look awfully tired, Oneiros.” A painful smile. “Perhaps it’s the weariness at being unable to change the past that is catching up to me.”  “So, does this mean you are ready to speak of Orpheus—of what happened to our son?” Guilt seized his throat and squeezed—because what did it make him—how self-serving—that he hadn’t invited her to reflect on the memories of their child, to offer the support that he’d neglected to give so long ago? His lips parted, words hanging from his tongue before remembering why he’d summoned her—selfish or not. “No, though speaking about our son is something I’d like to do—soon—if you were amenable to visiting again—that is to say, if you don’t find my company as intolerable as you once did.” Her breathy laugh and eye roll proved her still better than him. “Just as you’d answer my call—I shall always attend to yours. So, if we’re not here to discuss our history, then what is it that has affected you enough to summon me?” She raised her brows, head tilting. “Because that is a look I haven’t seen in so very long—not since we met our end.” He clenched his jaw—defensive for no reason other than pride or perhaps fear of being perceived. “I—“ he began, then stopped, sharp edges softening at her radiance, warmth. At her forgiveness. Her and Hob were more alike than he’d realized. What did humans say about a type? Shaking the thoughts aside, he pressed forward despite the itch in his throat. “I’ve come to ask for advice, as I’ve—I’ve found myself not knowing what to do—and—and I suppose you were right. I've changed--changed in ways that have left me... questioning--lost. Perhaps even fearful of making the same mistakes I once made with you." Something seemed to have become clear to her, as a quiet "Oh," escaped her lips. "Oh, Oneiros, you continue to surprise me still." He huffed. “That’s all you have to offer?” She rolled her eyes. “Scowling like a wet cat will not earn any favors. Can't a woman remark on the things she sees?" “I don't recall you stating more than your astonishment." "I suppose--though I speculate it to be true." His brows lifted, otherwise his expression blank. "And do I want to know what you suspect of me?" "That you're in love—that you've opened your heart in a way you'd never quite been able to do with me." The guilt burned his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t—“ But he didn’t get to finish as two fingers pressed to his lips. “No, do not apologize for love, Onieros—you hold no more sway over the decisions of your heart than you do the choice of the stars to shine in your eyes.” He stayed silent, knowing better than to challenge a Muse on such a topic. Then, the fingers moved from his lips, her palm sliding to cup his cheek. “Now, come, take my hand and sit beneath the cypress,” she said, threading together their fingers. “I fancy to hear the tale of the one who claimed your heart—who has you seeking my council in such a state.”

@buckybeardreams @thefangirloutof-time @kydrogendragon

[thenightling]

 I really, really, really, reeeeaaallly wish people who don't know the characters would stop "explaining' The Sandman to people. Things being spread that are not true:  1.  False: Morpheus is bad with children.  Morpheus is not bad with children.   His fall out with Orpheus was when Orpheus was a grown man.  Calliope even testified at Morpheus's wake that Morpheus was very good with Orpheus when he was small.  He even made him musical instruments.

   2.   False:  "Jessamy was an ordinary raven. That's why she doesn't talk and why she could be shot.   Matthew is a dream-raven so he's different."   No, in the comics Jessamy does talk.  She was Morpheus's Raven since at least the 1780s. And all of his ravens are deceased mortals.  Lucien (now Lucienne) was the first raven and can still take raven form at will according to the story The Hunt.

   3.   False: All Nightmares are evil, it's just their nature.  No. their nature is to be scary in your dreams.  Most of them never really harm anyone outside of the story acted out in your dreams.   It's like the monsters in Nightmare before Christmas.  "Life's no fun without a good scare. That's our job but we're not mean."  Most of the nightmares are actually quite friendly when not doing their jobs. Cain and Abel, for example, would invite you over for tea and biscuits while they tell scary stories.

  4.   False:  Daniel is Morpheus's biological son.   No, it's important to know that Orpheus was his only son, it's a major plot point.  Also Morpheus was in a glass cage when Daniel was conceived in the comics so there’s also that... 5.   False: Morpheus groomed Daniel and could have picked any mortal child to be his heir.   Daniel isn't just his heir.  Daniel IS Dream of The Endless.  It's not a title, it's what he is.   He's not a normal child.   Daniel gestated in dreams for two years after being the result of a woman being impregnated by a ghost.   He's no normal baby.  And, as far as I know, a normal human child can't just become an aspect (Piece) of an Endless.  

6.  False:  Morpheus would tell you to just “stop doing that” if he sees you fall in front of him.

I sort of understand where this comes from since he says “Then stop it” when Delirium tells him it hurts her to be sane.  But we already know he offers to help someone up when she falls in front of him. 7.  False:  Despair would win against “Hope” in “The Oldest Game” but Lucifer didn’t want to say it.  This is repeated so often that those that think they are deep and clever for saying it don’t seem able to stop and think about it.  Hope defeats Despair. They’re two sides of the same coin, each counters the other. Each Endless is a thing and its opposite.  Despair also represents Hope.  Remember, she even accidentally orchestrated the creation of Superman.  Pretty much anything you come up with that can beat hope is defeated by Hope so you have a stalemate, not a victory.   Also in the comics the contest wasn’t even against Lucifer, it was against Choronzon.     

8.  False: "Morpheus hates stairs."  I felt like I was having a stroke on a thread in my Sandman group when someone tried to "Explain" to me that Morpheus doesn't like staircases.  I showed him seated on his stairs in The Sandman: Brief Lives, and they decided to tell me he doesn't like climbing stairs. Umm... What?   Why?    He doesn't have bad legs.   He's the King of Dreams AND a drama queen.  

You don't think he likes to dramatically have a cape billow behind him as he descends or ascends a staircase like Christopher Lee's Count Dracula?      There's even a Netflix poster of him standing ON a staircase. it's petty but I am tired of people spreading false information about The Sandman canon and then other people fall for it and assume it's true because it's gone unquestioned.