#The Book of Second Corinthians

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

Ambassadors for Christ

19 how that God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself, not reckoning to them their offences; and putting in us the word of that reconciliation. 20 We are ambassadors therefore for Christ, God as it were beseeching by us, we entreat for Christ, Be reconciled to God. — 2 Corinthians 5:19-20 | 1890 Darby Bible (DARBY) The Darby Translation of the Holy Bible is in the public domain. Cross References: Psalm 32:2; Isaiah 27:5; Malachi 2:7; Romans 4:8; Romans 5:10; 1 Corinthians 13:5; 2 Corinthians 6:1; Colossians 1:20; Colossians 2:9

#God #ambassadors #Jesus Christ #reconciliation #2 Corinthians 5:19-20 #The Book of Second Corinthians #New Testament #DARBY #The Darby Translation of the Holy Bible

[thenightling]

Tumblr has discovered The Sandman...

Tumblr has discovered Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman.   Here are some of the examples of proof of that discovery.  The good and the not-so-good.

1.   The Corinthian (A nightmare entity) has been referred to as a “Blorbo.”  Based on my understanding of the meaning of the word I am pretty certain The Corinthian probably should not be your Blorbo.  But then again you might be into that sort of thing.  I’ve seen some strange things in the Horror movie slasher fandoms.  Just know that if he was real it would probably not be safe to think of him as your Blorbo.

2.  The Corinthian has been called Cori and Cory respectively.   And so it begins...

3.  Morpheus has been referred to as a poor little “Meow Meow” and not while in his cat form.  And yes, I know he fits the criteria for the term.  It’s just this was the first time I’ve seen him called it without it being literally related to his cat form.   You have truly made it in the world of Tumblr when they start calling your character a Blorbo or Poor LIttle Meow Meow.  Whatever happened to Woobie?   I would think Morpheus would fit under “Woobie.”   

4.   I have seen Tom Sturridge (Morpheus’s Netflix actor) referred to as a DILF.  (Dad I’d like to ...have fun with).   As the term is usually reserved for older men, and I, myself, am forty, and Tom Sturridge is a few years younger than I am, this term usage came as a surprise to me. It turns out some fans are using the term quite literally as Tom Sturridge literally is a father.  I was used to the term being used specifically in regard to age.

5. Morpheus has been compared to a Disney Princess.

6.   A scene from the source material has been taken out of context to make the character look more like an asshole than he actually is even though there are plenty of real asshole moments as the character is on a long redemption arc.

The scene in question is when Matthew the Raven says “Penny for your thoughts.” And Morpheus responds with “You have no pennies, Matthew.”  Later Morpheus offers Matthew a literal penny in exchange for him voicing his thoughts.  Morpheus being too literal is what is happening here. Context matters.

7.  There are people trying to bluff having read The Sandman without having actually read The Sandman to try to gain clout in the fandom.   It’s okay to have not read it yet, guys. It’s a great read. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.  Go have fun.  I promise it’s not as difficult as some people make it out to be.

Someone genuinely tried to argue with me that the “White haired version of Morpheus” was not created by Neil Gaiman and was created long after he was done writing The Sandman.  If you have read The Sandman you would understand how wrong this is. 

Don’t try to bluff having read The Sandman if you have not.  We can tell.  We can always tell.  

8.  There are gatekeepers trying to intimidate new readers into thinking there’s nothing whimsical in The Sandman and that it’s “So deep” and “you won’t get it the first time you read it.  You have to read it a few times to understand it.”

Yes, there is darkness in The Sandman. It’s part dark fantasy / part Gothic Horror with moments of gore but there are light things too.   Don’t discourage new readers.   I promise the story isn’t as hard to get into as some people make it out to be. I know terms like “Classic” can make some people chafe.  Just give it a try.  If you don’t like the first issue, try the second. If you don’t like the second, keep going until at least issue four.  If you still don’t like it after issue 4, it’s okay to stop.  No one will judge you.  If you don’t like comic books, try the audio drama, it’s divided into chapters like a novel.  Each issue being a chapter.   If you don’t like it after chapter four, that’s okay.  You’ll know if you like it or not by then. 

9.  There is already fan art of Tom Sturridge as Morpheus in funny / ridiculous scenarios.  No picture is given here as I did not get permission from the artists to share them yet.

10. There are already people complaining about the casting without having watched the show yet. One faction claiming the casting is “too woke” while another faction seemed concerned that it’s not inclusive enough even though Desire is nonbinary and pansexual, Death is a black woman, Rose and Unity are black women, Ruthven Sykes is a black man, Lucienne is a black woman who wears spectacles, Lucifer (who has no set gender or even sexual reproductive organs) is being played by a woman, Alexander Burgess is gay, The Corinthian is gay, Johanna Constantine is bisexual, Cain and Abel are South Asian...      

There even seem to be politically charged rants complaining because the English language show, with an English cast, written by an English writer, has a lead actor with an English accent...

So what do I have to say about Tumblr discovering The Sandman? 

Well..

 Welcome to the Sandom!  

You’re in for quite a ride.   And don’t put your fingers too close to The Corinthian’s face.  Just... Don’t.

#The Sandman #Sandman #Neil Gaiman #Morpheus #Dream of The Endless #Netflix #The Sandman fandom #Sandom

[aziraphales-library]

Hello y’all!!

I want to start with saying I appreciate all the work you do.

Is there a fic that you love but have not gotten the chance to recommend yet?

Sincerely,

A very tipsy aziracrow shipper

Hi! These are all fics I have read and loved recently, and have not recommended yet. A few post-series two amnesia fics (I went on a mini memory loss binge, so sue me) and a couple of lovely human aus....

Pure of Heart by syrupfactory (M)

Aziraphale had watched Crowley walk away, watched the door close behind him. All that remained was the peculiar tingle lingering on Aziraphale’s lips. But then, Crowley came back inside. What had changed his mind? Aziraphale never got the chance to ask. Moments later, the two of them were on the elevator with the Metatron. Aziraphale remembered it clearly as the last time he was truly happy. Canon divergence where Crowley agreed to return to Heaven with Aziraphale, only for Crowley's memory to be wiped immediately as part of his "second chance" at being an angel.

Light the Corners of my Mind by cyankelpie (G)

Aziraphale, thirty-eighth order scrivener—at least, that's who they told him he was—wakes up from some perfectly normal memory loss to find a cryptic note written on his hand. The further he goes in his search for answers, the more questions he has. Will he ever learn why he was demoted to a desk job? Or how he'd managed to collect enough books to open a bookshop? Or why that familiar red-haired demon on Earth seems to be avoiding him?

Among the Stacks by MeinirRhos (NR)

Nearly a year after Aziraphale returns to Heaven, he vanishes from existence, leaving Crowley bereft on Earth. Just when the demon has finally started to heal and move on with his life, he finds his angel by chance in a library. But Aziraphale has no memory of his life as an angel, or of Crowley. How will our hero cope?

1 corinthians 13:1-13 by ffonippop (M)

Restless traveler, Aziraphale Fell, meets settled-down Anthony Crowley in middle-of-nowhere, Texas. Aziraphale goes through life flitting from place to place, never staying long. He runs on the belief that if he’s not going, he’s missing out on something better. Crowley’s life is stationary. He keeps himself rooted with the belief that his life is the best it’s ever going to get, and to go would be to risk that. Aziraphale has to go. Crowley has to stay. They have to take what they can get from each other, and that needs to be enough.

Big Name Feelings by ghostrat (E)

FANDOM AU! • Crowley is a BNF fic writer, and Aziraphale is a lurking artist who might be just a little parasocially in love with him. How they ever became friends is beyond him, but here they are: One month out from Prophet Con, and Crowley is asking him to be his boyfriend. Just for the weekend, of course.

- Mod D

#good omens #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #memory loss #amnesia #human au #mod faves #mod d

[the-darklings]

──𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 [𝐕.]

summary: "You look lonely, Dream."

pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader

wc: 3.5k+

warnings: dare I say it... soft, Dream is still Dream ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

notes: you're all actually insane. thank you so much for your support & I love you. enjoy perhaps the happiest chapter in the story : )

part one | series masterlist | ao3 |

PART FIVE: YEAR 522

“Enjoying yourself?”

You nudge the book from over your face, squinting at the tall figure looming over you. “I was till about two seconds ago.” 

Your retort is lost in a sleepy yawn as you cover your mouth. 

Corinthian’s tall frame casts a steep, hard-edged shadow over your body. He doesn’t move. Sighing, you unhook your legs to sit up, blinking up at him. “Where were you? I haven’t seen you in two days.”

“Performing my duty,” he replies smoothly, mockingly bowing. “As our benevolent ruler has intended. Even I get tonight off.”

“Right. Good dreams for everyone.”

Dreamfall is tonight. The inhabitants that call this realm their home—nightmares and dreams alike—have been prepping for the celebration since light first broke over the land. 

Corinthian steps under the whistling willow, visibly amused by how the branches seemingly hiss whenever he draws too near. He sits down against the trunk without forewarning, grabbing your ankles resting in the shade. He lifts your legs before dropping them over his lap unceremoniously. His hat drops beside him, and you huff at his gall. Your shoe nudges his deliberately—a half kick—your sweet smile making an equally poisonous smile curl his mouth. 

“Ow.”

“Sorry,” he drawls insincerely. 

Rolling your eyes, you leaf through the book you were reading before your impromptu nap. 

“Will you be at the celebration?” you inquire casually, not looking his way.

The nightmare clicks his tongue. “No.”

Your stare skims over the edge of your hardcover, “Why not?”

A thin, polished blade appears in his hand, looping between his long fingers. He seems too thoughtful for it to not spell trouble. “Taking a page from your book and running from things.”

This time your kick lands intentionally against his ankle. Corinthian doesn't react to it. Lately, he's been convinced you're running from things that have transpired in your extended life. It's true to an extent. You're not idiotic enough to convince yourself otherwise. Kernel of truth or otherwise, you would rather talk about anything else. 

This is the longest you’ve ever stayed at the Dreaming in a single stretch. Almost a year. But this time is different. You can’t help but get a sense others don’t want you to leave. They’re concerned about you. After your last mishap in the waking world, no one can blame them, certainly not you. You were in terrible shape. If anything, you had forgotten how sweet it is: to be wanted and cared for, even if few ever express it through traditional means. 

“Not this again,” you groan. “You don’t get it.”

"Oh, but I do." Corinthian's head tips to the side, facing away from you. You haven't noticed the miniature wooden piece in his other hand until his blade starts scoring through the wood. "You don't want to consider your existence. So instead, you shove everything happening to you to the side in some vain hope that it won't hurt you if you wait long enough. Tsk, tsk."

Metal scrapes on wood again; louder, with more force, small wooden shavings scattering near your feet. Corinthian turns to face you again, leaning closer, your distorted reflection visible in his shades. “But memories have teeth, Wanderer,” he continues playfully. “They always come back to bite.”

You offer him a flat, unamused stare. “Trying to freak me out? Or just being purposely annoying?”

He grins brightly, all teeth visible, one side of his mouth crooking slightly further than the other. “I’m a nightmare, darling. It’s in the job description.”

Rolling your eyes, you lift your book back over your face, his words swimming in your head. 

“Annoying, it is.” 

Silence blankets the clearing for a while. Miniature daisies curl around your palm where it rests on the warm ground. It doesn’t escape your heed that everything in Fiddler’s Green shrinks away from Corinthian. Everyone, everywhere, shrinks away from him. Even amongst other nightmares, he has distinct energy that separates him from the rest; bold, defiant, and destructive.

Frowning, you drop the book back over your chest, gazing up at him. Corinthian’s head rests slanted to one side, focused entirely on his work. You’ve seen him partake in woodcraft often in recent years, but only ever in private. It settles him. This way, he manages to keep his mind and hands busy. During instances like these, away from everything, Corinthian appears almost human. As if whatever cruelty he indulges in so often takes a rest during these times. 

“Come with me to the celebration,” you say abruptly. “It won’t kill you to be nice for a change.”

The nightmare pauses mid-scratch. Corinthian carefully considers his handiwork, blowing away the wood dust with deliberate slowness. “I’m very nice,” he retorts. “See.”

He throws the object at you. You scramble, the wooden figurine almost hitting you in the chest. Shooting him a glare, you roll the smooth wood in your hand. It’s warm to the touch. 

Miniature Corinthian stares back at you. With a gleeful grin stretched wide, glasses on, and a wooden hat over the nightmare’s head. The details are immaculate. Lovely. Somehow the thought he’s created this from nothing brings a smile to your face. So, not just a nightmare, huh? 

You offer the nightmare a toothy, teasing grin. “He’s cute. Could use some friends, though.”

You toss it back at him. Unlike you, Corinthian catches the figurine smoothly, twisting it between his digits with a considerate hum.

“Friends.” There’s an abrasive edge to the way he articulates the word. “What a thought. Catch.”

You’re ready this time, but at no point did you catch him taking out a second figurine. Your mouth parts, speechless. 

“This is…”

It's you. Your likeness has been shrunk to fit inside your hand—a tight knot forms in your throat. You've never had someone do something like this for you. The curse repeatedly destroys any traces of you. Fires, floods, diseases, wars. You've never been allowed to exist. Not in any significant way, anyway. But this is special—proof, as good as any, that you're real.

Wordlessly, you sit up, reaching over to hand him back the figurine. 

“What?” he bites out. “Don't you like it?”

You want to smile at the prickly offence in his voice. 

“I love it,” you insist. You nimbly grab the figurine Corinthian made of himself and shove it in your pocket, wiggling your brows. “But you hold onto mine, and I’ll hold onto yours. That’s what friends would do.”

You plop down on the ground, stretching your legs more comfortably over his lip. Corinthian doesn’t stir. Time glides leisurely, weaving a tapestry of tranquillity: you read, Corinthian whittles a new piece. When you’re out there in the universe, it’s memories like this one you armour yourself with. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Corinthian doesn’t pause in his work. “You just did.”

You lift onto one elbow. “Why do you wear your glasses around me? You know your eyes don’t scare me.”

Even the mini replica of him has glasses on. Is he worried they make you uncomfortable? After five hundred years, few things can unsettle you anymore. 

“I do. But I wasn’t born. I was made.” There’s weight to how he phrases it. Purposeful, premeditated. “The first time I became aware of my existence, I saw two things. Him, Dream of the Endless, my creator, and… you. The only one who never flinched away. Funny that.”

You lift a curious brow. “Funny how?”

A slight, mean grin edges Corinthian’s mouth. “Surely you’ve noticed? How many others around here look like me? Like you?”

Wind rustles your clothes, wrapping around your wrists and shoulders. Maybe it’s Fiddler Green’s approach in discouraging you from this conversation. But you’re not leaving. And you understand what the nightmare is trying to convey, what he’s suggesting between the lines. 

That on some level—subconscious or otherwise—Dream crafted Corinthian in your image. The parallels are too significant. Your shared human attributes. A cursed human. A nightmare. Differing forms of misery. Forever. 

You witnessed Corinthian's creation. He's been special to you ever since. Those jagged teeth for eyes or his corrupt nature never bothered you. At least not as much as others believed it should. 

“Corinthian—”

“Hey kid, there you are,” a voice grouses through the clearing, striding hurriedly in your direction. “Geez. Do you have any idea how hard it is to track you down? Oh. Corinthian.”

Merv freezes the second the nightmare comes into view; branches and your body have kept him mostly from sight until now. 

Clearing your throat, you raise your hand in a casual wave. “Hey, Merv.”

The pumpkin head balances on his heels, awkwardly looking around the clearing. “Uh, the big boss wants you back at the castle, kid,” the caretaker informs, pointing his thumb behind him. Back in the castle’s direction. “You’re the honoured guest tonight, so….”

Dream must be otherwise occupied if he didn’t come to collect you himself, considering he can pin your down in a mere second usually. 

“Better run along,” Corinthian shoos, leaning back to get more comfortable. His hands are empty in his lap, and it doesn’t escape your notice. 

You won’t be able to continue your conversation now; that is clear. Admitting silent defeat, you struggle back onto your feet, stretching. You tuck the leather-bound book under your arm, turning to go. 

“Oh, and Wanderer?” You pause at Corihtian’s deliberately sweet call. In your peripheral, Merv’s features spasm with irritation. The nightmare grins when you turn back towards him. “Happy Dreamfall. May the Fates smile upon you.”

The nightmare’s hands clasp together lightly in mock prayer, and you shake your head. Leave it to him to ridicule human religion. 

“You can’t bribe three-in-one for good fortune, Cori,” you tell him, equally as saccharine. “It doesn't work like that.”

“The veil between Worlds will be thin tonight,” he says lightly, all innocence, shrouding something darker beneath. “You never know.”

.

“You should be back at the castle, enjoying the festivities.”

Waves lap against the shores of the Dreaming, all things unstirring and still around you. It’s so quiet here. Even your breaths echo. Dreams and nightmares alike are celebrating. Tonight, their home is the centre of the cosmos. It’s dense in the air—that thrumming power raw imagination holds, building and swelling with the inky waves. You sit perched in the grainy, dark sand, your fingers dug in deep. A light breeze stirs beside you, and the Dream King’s dark coat whispers over your hand. 

On this night, his overcoat is edged with glimmering golden flame at the hem, flaring brighter with each faint movement. Dream of the Endless at his true, unsuppressed power. The universe is paying tribute to his domain tonight. Your skin tingles at the oozing power radiating from him in such close proximity. 

However, the answer to his reserved observation comes quickly: “Couldn’t miss this view.”

Light beams swirl in a multicoloured kaleidoscope through the inky sky above. Falling, falling, falling; swimming and floating. Dreams; pulsing and spinning through the lonely, silent universe to here. Their anchor place.

Dreamfall. An apt name indeed. You’re dizzy, stunned, and incredibly humbled just witnessing it. Has any other human been given such privilege? 

“How many do you think there are?” you whisper. 

“Billions.”

Dream’s voice is a gentle, deep caress beside you. Self-possessed as if he’s counted each one himself. 

Your palm drags mindlessly through the dark sands, each grain sifting through your fingers. Dream Lord jolts at your side, breathing out deeply, but you don’t pay his odd reaction mind, settling into pensive silence. 

“Can you see them?” you ask thoughtfully. “Individually?”

“See them, feel them,” Dream lists passively. His fingers outstretch slowly, aiming towards the boundless black water—no, towards the skies, towards living tendrils of joy and light dancing through the dark. “I need not take them. For they are all… right… here.”

A glow kindles in his open palm, muted, soothing light. It flutters; quivering wings of a scared bird, then settles, safe in Dream’s protective hold, forming a small sphere. A gasp climbs up your throat, but you swallow it down, jumping to your feet and brushing the sand off your palms as you go. 

A woman’s figure moves in the smokey image. She’s cradling a tiny bundle in her arms, her nose brushing over the child’s nose lovingly. It’s a nurturing, beautiful scene. One to leave your heart aching with longing. 

“That’s incredible.” Stepping closer, you reach to touch the glowing globe, but stop yourself last moment. No. There’s no knowing what it would do to this woman if someone like you infringed on her dream. Your fingers shrink backwards, falling back to your side, each digit curling loosely. Dream tracks the gesture intently, his features drawn, so you force lightness into your following words, “For all the splendours in this universe, the Dreaming still manages to delight me the most.”

Dream Lord’s thumb skims over the glowing sphere. Then he extends his arm and blows gently. Like his sand, the dream skips and floats away, soon all but lost in the infinite array of colours. 

“On this night, all living things dream,” he murmurs, concentrating solely on the descending lights. “And those dreams all traverse the universe to find their way home. To the Dreaming. What is it?”

You blink, realising you’ve been caught staring. “It’s just… over five hundred years,” you begin with a small smile. “I thought I’d have you all figured out by now, but you keep surprising me.”

Dream’s chin slants in a slight nod—regal even in these tiniest gestures. For a second, you wonder if you glimpse a sliver of amusement, but you blink, and it’s gone. “Likewise, Wanderer.”

You stand side by side, observing the vivid display. Dream’s features are, for once, relaxed. Softer than usual. 

“You love them,” you choke out, startled by the piercing realisation. “Humanity. Then why…”

He’s gone incredibly still beside you. “Why what?”

Despite the direct prompt, your mouth remains closed. A thousand thoughts swarm through your head. All this time, you had it so wrong. Dream Lord’s stoic, often cold, mien. Even his duty he so uncompromising places first. 

“You look lonely, Dream.”

It slips out before you can give it much thought, talk yourself out of voicing it. You’ve seen how Dream handles such observations. How any label or implication sets his jaw and ignites an ancient flame in him. There’s a reason you’ve never defined your relationship or so much as tried to. Equal parts fear how he would take it—and more painfully—the thought he would admit you mean nothing. 

But Dream Lord is lonely. It’s written in every corner of his handsome, imposing face. Displayed naked and vulnerable in the way he watches these dreams. Such fierce devotion and a need to understand them, even when he struggles with the complexities of humanity. 

“I was wrong about you,” you rush ahead in a whisper, noting the slow spreading coldness painting over his features. “I once thought you didn’t care at all. That you’re above it all. But now I realise just how much you do care.”

Chuckling under your breath, you mentally reabsorb the years you’ve spent by his side. With such crushing responsibility, Dream acts a certain way for a reason. 

“But to have the collective consciousness of all living beings resting on your shoulders… I can’t imagine it.” You shake your head slowly from side to side. A small, sad smile pulls at your lips. “Your sense of duty to them is stronger than anything else. So it’s easier to not show anything. To anyone. Easier to lock it all down.”

Dream displays no outward reaction to your comments. His stare, however, burns into you, simmering with some hidden, potent emotion you can’t decipher no matter how hard you try. “You created this for them,” you conclude fondly, glancing around you. “The Dreaming is your gift to life, to humanity.”

Your heart inflates, stray breaths escaping your parted lips. The coldness and the prickly displeasure have waned from his demeanour with your speech, leaving Dream Lord mute at your side. His quietude fills in all the blanks, melancholic as it is. 

There’s nothing more lonely than endless existence. You’re starting to learn as much intimately. 

"I'm merely abiding by the Old Laws," he says lastly. "Anything is possible here. Let me show you."

Confusion must show on your face because Dream inclines his head towards the pier to your right. 

“What are we doing?” you question, following after him. 

The hem shimmers with Dream's steady gait, illuminating the path ahead. He stalls at the edge of the dock, water beyond stretching as far as the eye can see. 

“Creating.”

“Uh, what?” Understanding sinks in at his deliberate glance. “Dream, I… I can’t dream. I can’t create anything here.”

“You need only to imagine it,” he says. “I will do the rest.”

He gestures for you to take his place. Your feet brush over the pier’s edge hesitantly. You don’t dare to look below. Those depths are treacherous to anyone who isn’t this realm’s creator. 

“How will you know what’s in my head?”

Dream Lord’s presence whispers against your back. His fingers are light when they settle on your shoulder. “When it comes to dreams, I always know.”

You huff. “Fine, show off.” 

“Clear your mind,” he instructs promptly. Not like you expected him to humour you. “Here, tonight, anything is possible.” 

Keeping one hand on your shoulder, Dream raises his other arm, digits extended; relaxed, elegant. With a soft rasp from Dream Prince’s lips, power surges in the air, “We begin… with a spin.”

Dream Lord’s wrist rotates, everything in sight ceasing for a heartbeat, and then the world shifts.

Water plunges inwards, forming a whirlpool, cool spray hitting your skin with a powerful gust. A startled breath wooshes from your lungs, peering down at the ravine wide-eyed. 

You’re not afraid, though. You’re mesmerised. “What should I do?” 

He hears you even over the roaring water. “Change the world,” Dream whispers behind you. The way he says those words makes you believe you can do anything. “Imagine you are free. Visualise it. What do you see?”

“There’s a small island.” The vision springs to mind instantly, shining brightly in your mind’s eye. “Grass that grows there is the greenest there’s ever been. And… it tastes like sour apples.”

“Are you, by any chance, hungry, Wanderer?”

If you didn’t know any better, you would presume he’s teasing you. 

A breathless laugh escapes you. “Shh. I’m focusing.”

The island trickles back into your thoughts, fragments stringing together. 

“The sun that shines on the island is never too hot. The air is sweet and light. The flowers never wilt, trees never shed leaves, and the sky is an endless periwinkle shade. There’s always food and drinks. Books and games. An old friend waits at the beach to greet you with a patient smile whenever you arrive.”

And as you speak it, Dream’s fingers trail over the horizon, weaving and creating what you’re relating. 

“A friend.” He sounds contemplative, with faint curiosity lacing his timber. “Not family or a lover?”

“Not everyone has family, and not everyone needs a lover,” you clarify. Each word wobbles, caught in a spell of his creation. “But everyone should have a friend. The island will be there whenever someone feels lonely, lost, or desperate for an escape. It’ll be there to welcome you. To give you a corner to hide. There is no sadness there. No loneliness or confusion. There’s only…”

“... hope.”

You nod at his hushed conclusion in your ear. Dream’s palm closes gently, forming a fist. The Dreaming exhales, his other hand slips off your shoulder, and in the far distance, an island shudders in the water, settling. Waves slosh loudly, beating against the dock, smoothing into crystal clear moments later. 

Your eyes burn as you stare unblinking at the unassuming island.

“Why do you weep, Wanderer?”

You tuck your face in your elbow instinctively, chuckling thickly. 

"This, no, it's... uh… thank you." Each word cracks with emotion as you mumble the words. Scrubbing your palm over your eyes, you smile softly. "Thank you so much for this."

“You need not thank me,” Dream states, a wrinkle forming between his brows. “The island is now part of the Dreaming. And whenever a soul finds themselves alone or in need of that comfort, they shall find their way here. It came from you.”

Does he have any idea how precious this is to you? No words in any tongue could adequately capture how deeply this settles in your soul. You exist. You’re real. The figurine in your pocket and the island visible in the distance are indisputable proof of that. He’s been a constant, a terrible shelter, for so long. But with this, he’s knitted himself in your marrow until your dying breath. 

“Sit with me?” You settle down without preamble, your legs dangling over the edge. You never want this night to end. “Just for a little while,” you add quietly. 

Dream lowers his head in consideration. Much to your unspoken surprise, his limbs fold elegantly beneath him, the golden edges of his coat pooling around him. 

Your head drops back, watching the falling dreams. He does the same. 

You don’t speak, and neither does he. Neither of you needs to. 

Everything that ought to be said is expressed in the comforting stillness between you. 

an: personal hdc is that before Corinthian escaped into the human world to wreak havoc, he had other ways to keep himself busy heh.

also, be sure to savour the happiness because it sure isn't going to last : )

#the sandman #the sandman x reader #netflix sandman #sandman x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless #dream x fem!reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus x fem!reader #the sandman netflix #tom sturridge #fic: today i bury you in me

[prokopetz]

So.

While we’re all waiting to find out whether a TV show adaptation of a comic book from 1989 is going to get a second season, apparently the current Sandman story arc – like, the one that’s being published right now – involves the Corinthian going up against the Angel Moroni.

Yes, as in the one who purportedly inspired Joseph Smith to found Mormonism.

That Angel Moroni.

#media #comics #television #the sandman #the corinthian #mormonism #religion #nightmare country spoilers #the sandman spoilers #spoilers

[undiscovered-horizon]

Hello, can I request a Morpheus x reader where she's wearing Morpheus’ coat, and he's absolutely amazed and attracted by that? Thank you ☺️

A/N: thought of writing something like this for Corinthian also? Lemme know if you'd like that!🌺

[MASTERLIST] | [Sandman-inspired playlist]

Breathe in.

A scent of lush, exotic fruits and a slight mustiness of old books. The material is heavy and slightly coarse but the lining feels like satin, delicately brushing against your skin. Something rustles in the pockets. For a second, you consider fishing out those strange treasures but the thought is quickly dismissed - it's impolite to snoop. Besides, whatever Morpheus carries in his coat is something he considers he might need at any given moment, so, perhaps, it was best for you to not play with them.

The garment is a little too big for you, so Morpheus takes a moment to roll up the sleeves. He does so silently, in swift motion as though he had done it countless times - like it was something obvious. His aloofness flusters you and you wonder if he thinks that a certain level of charity is expected of him or if he's simply following his heart's desires without letting reason interrupt this quiet confession of affection. One of his hands lingers around yours, threading your fingers together, and only then does he continue the stroll.

Your lungs are full - you breathe out.

Breathes in.

Morpheus keeps looking at you, indulging in some strange urge he has only just discovered. The coat is slightly big on you (Could he drown in you the way you're drowning in this black material?), virtually hiding your physique as though you are a secret he keeps away from the world. He ponders that thought - can he? Can he actually keep you all to himself, a treasure he never shares with anyone like a well of serenity that never dries?

It's as if he's seeing you for the first time but that doesn't make sense, right? Morpheus has already spent countless hours admiring the miraculous whim of the universe that made you reciprocate his infatuation. Perhaps it wasn't as much seeing you as seeing what the two of you might be one day as though giving you his coat granted Morpheus a glimpse into the future - into days where there is no longer 'him' and 'you' but a third entity, an inextricable union or a tide that mixes the ever-changing seas of what each of you is. His heart flutters at the possibilities and could-bees; seeing you, Morpheus is staring into his future and it is filled with gentle touches, quiet giggles and this overpowering sense of safety.

When you take his coat off, a sad parting that has to happen, will your smell linger on the black material and keep him calm whenever he puts the garment on? Or maybe when he leans in to kiss you, he'll smell pomegranate and antique books on your neck? Will he belong to you or will you belong to him? Truthfully, Morpheus doesn't care - either way, you're bound to each other.

His lungs are full - he breathes out.

Between exhales and inhales, those short seconds when creatures tread the line between death and life, most think about their desire for oxygen, a dull pain in their chest reminds them that they are not yet deceased, but lovers so often get things confused and think about each other instead.

#the sandman fanfic #the sandman imagine #the sandman netflix #the sandman #the sandman fanfiction #morpheus sandman #sandman x reader #sandman x you #sandman fanfiction #sandman imagine #morpheus imagine #morpheus x you #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless fanfiction #dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless

[nim-lock]

Sandman Charm Pre-orders!

Ends Jan 7, 2022 11:59 PM CST

Made a bunch of charm designs, setting up a quick preorder to determine the amount I stock. The human-looking folks are 2″ double-sided charms; the cat is 3″. Fulfillment will be in March. An email will be sent before items are ready to ship to ask about any address changes. No shipping to Germany or the UK.

Thanks in advance for the support! I hope you guys like them :0

[ID: Two images of charm mockups. The first one has double-sided designs of Dream, Hob, The Corinthian, Calliope, Death, Desire, and Lucifer. They are drawn in a chibi style, with their eyes being dots. Dream’s front is his black coat outfit, the back has the coat in flames, with a few heads visible. He is holding a raven. Hob is portrayed with his modern-day outfit, and also the one in 1789. The Corinthian is lunging forward with a knife; he looks very happy about his situation. His back-side version has a green color and more blood spatters. Calliope is pictured holding a book and a scroll. Death has translucent wings and is holding an apple. Desire is laying down, holding a heart with an arrow through it. Lucifer is pictured in red bathrobe, and the leather fighting outfit. The second image is of Morpheus as a cat; it is a celestial-looking cat with glowing yellow eyes and jagged pink cloud shapes in back. The front is blue, yellow, and pink. The back-side version is more desaturated. End ID]

#the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #calliope #desire of the endless #death of the endless #lucifer morningstar #my art #dreamling #dreammuse #uhh whatever the other potential ship names are #cheers :V

[constantinho]

TW: Unreality

I haven't seen anyone else talking about this here so... there's this theory of The Boiled one Phenomenon going on saying that PHEN-228 is Jesus Christ. Now take a look at this ugly motherfucker:

There are spikes coming out of its head. If you look closely, it looks like he is wearing a crown made of them. Now, there's also this quote that he said while presumably communicating with Job Zamperini:

"Listen closely. Do you hear it? You will hear the laughter of thousands as the sky opens up. You will hear the trumpets play their happy sounds. The scalding blood of life will pour down onto us all. Together, we will be still. Together, a feast fit for a king. Together, welded by love and purest connection. Be still and feast-"

It's speech resembles much the second coming of Christ:

The trumpets refer to the seven trumpets that will sound at the end of the world, from the Book of Revelation

The laughter of thousands as the sky opens up refers to the living christians that would be caught up to meet the Lord in the air and be with him forever, as refered in Corinthians 15:51-54

"Together we will be still, welded by love and connection", in his resurrection, those who have died in Christ will have their redeemed souls and spirits united with a body similar to Christ's glorified body. Christians living at the time of this event will not die, but will be changed to be like Christ (John 3:2)

-

I know there's something here I'm missing about the blood coming out of the sky, so if any christians here on tumblr could help with this, it would be awesome!

-

Now, let's end this theory with another saying of PHEN-228:

"The very memory of my face will cause a manifestation of my being in the future. You will be asleep in bed. I will be there, and watch over you. When you wake, you will not be able to move any part of you. When the doctors eventually find you, they will not see me, but you will, and I'll see you too. Forever, I'll see you."

For those who watched the arg, it's obvious its refering to the locked-in-syndrome that PHEN-228 puts those that have seen his image. I believe that when he says that he will see them forever, he means in the sense that they shall be one for eternity, united, on pure connection that will be the unifying of the christians souls into one being as close to god as possible.

Now don't come asking me to explain this mf because I have no idea wth he is supposed to be-

#the boiled one phenomenon #the boiled one #phen 228 #theory #unreality

[writing-for-life]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN DREAM'S HAIR USED TO BE WHITE!! oh my god. i just saw your post about killala and i have now perished. thanks for breaking my heart.

but also hi!! i'm relatively new to the fandom and it's a great place to be. i haven't finished reading all the comics yet but i'm curious to know:

what do you think are the main differences between TV!Dream and Comics!Dream? i've heard so many people claiming that he is incapable of changing, for instance, and though the show does convey his overall rigidity pretty well, i'm not getting the vibe that he's immutable.

also!! it's clear that he feels a lot. which is always funny to me when the corinthian is like yo, try this and maybe you'll feel something for a change but like. he does!!! or i get the impression that he does. he probably feels too much if anything?? all of it simmering just beneath the surface, barely contained. how would you personally analyze his relationship with his own emotions?

i hope all of this is coherent enough for you to answer lmao, i saw your post about enjoying being asked sandman questions two seconds after i woke up and barged into your inbox. hope you have a lovely day!

Thanks so much for the ask, and welcome if you’re new(ish) to the fandom! 🤗

I’m sorry I broke your heart—much more heartbreak to come I fear if you haven’t read the comics yet, so I’ll try to keep this as spoiler-free as possible.

I am one of those people who believes the differences between comics!Dream and show!Dream are actually not as big as they are made out to be where it matters, and you will definitely find people who disagree. At the end of the day, we all read it through our own lens and will never be fully objective about it.

The main difference I see is that they filed off the rough edges of the comics a bit to make a new audience sympathise more. It’s very hard to do that with a character who is basically in full arsehole mode for most of the first 40 issues or so, and even then only slowly begins to come out of it (although we can obviously see glimmers of what lies below the surface at the beginning of the comics, too, but it’s far more subtle than in the show). I’ve worked in musical theatre for a over decade of my life and understand a bit about bringing the written word to stage/screen, and some things simply don’t translate well from book to stage/screen, and you have to change it. So my personal opinion is we get a more sympathetic Morpheus and certain changes so the audience can do exactly that—sympathise off the bat. You will lose an audience pretty quickly if they don’t care about the protagonist and the universe he moves in, and you can’t be as nuanced about it as you can be in a written work. We’re talking about streaming services thinking about profits here, even if people don’t want to hear it.

Also: The more you sympathise with a character, the deeper the emotional investment and the more you feel, even if it hurts.

Having said this, I don’t think Morpheus is incapable of change, and I never got where that idea comes from. His biggest flaw is that he believes he cannot change (and even he has moments when he admits he might have). In the introduction to Endless Nights, Neil Gaiman says that he was once asked to describe The Sandman in twenty-five words or less, and famously, it was this (you might have heard it):

“The Lord of Dreams learns that one must change or die, and makes his decision.”

And I think some people might have wrongly taken that for an either/or thing. I don’t want to say too much at this point because I don’t know how much you know (if you’d like spoilers or already know how it ends, let me know, I’ll happily expand on it). Only so much:

He is capable of change, also in the comics. Very obviously so. But just like he denies he has his own story (which also isn’t true), he denies he can change. Or at least he thinks he perhaps cannot change enough (it’s actually hard to write about this without giving everything away, help! 🙈).

As for his feelings: He does feel, but again, it is something he pushes down and will deny himself. Until it bursts to the surface and breaks through, and when that happens, it’s usually with, well, let’s say varying results, and that’s putting it mildly. Personally, I’d say he has problems relating to his feelings, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel. Quite the opposite in my view. He holds the collective unconscious—all unprocessed feelings and whatever else floats around in that collective mess, and it’s exactly what he says to the Corinthian in that famous scene: he needs to keep a lid on it and keep that lid firmly closed so all of it doesn’t consume him. But that also means denying himself the feelings that are linked to his own personhood (if you want to call it that). There’s Dream of the Endless, and then there’s Morpheus. And while they’re one and the same and inseparable, Morpheus is also the “point of view”. The character, the person, if you will. And deep down, he craves that personhood so badly. Out of all the Endless, he is the only one who basically collects names because they mean having something beyond his function, which is also mirrored in what he tells Death in “The Sound of her Wings”: he wants something more. He is the only one whose realm is populated with sentient beings (yes, I know Despair has rats, but I think you get my drift). He is desperately lonely and struggles with it. He seeks connection yet denies it to himself. That’s not someone who doesn’t feel.

I don’t know if this answers your questions at all—I was doing the wild “spoiler-free” dance 🤣 But please let me know if you want me to go a bit deeper, I love talking about this stuff.

You can also have a look at my metas if you haven’t already. The headers pretty much explain what they’re about and what spoiler-level to expect, but none of them are truly spoiler-free I guess:

Again, thanks so much for encroaching on my inbox, and feel free to follow up if anything was left unanswered.

@dreamaturgy ask answered

#the sandman #sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #sandman meta #ask answered #send asks #sandman analysis #sandman character analysis #sandman comics #the sandman netflix

[racefortheironthrone]

The Walrus Was (Is) Pa(u)l

Introduction

Like a lot of you, I was pretty consumed by Nona the Ninth - I ended up reading the entire thing in one night/morning, because there would be an enormous twist every twenty pages and I had to know how the story ended - and, like a lot of you, one of the most affecting plot developments in the book was the culmination of Palamedes and Camilla’s arcs and the creation of Paul. 

In reading people’s reactions, I noted a lot of people who were heartbroken that one or both of their favorite characters were now dead. I also noted a lot of people who were very confused about why the fusion of Palamedes and Camilla was called Paul, and what kind of Biblical allusion Tamsyn Muir is pointing to with that choice of name. I also noted a lot of people who thought that the reveal of Paul was a very fascinating gender moment. 

In this post, I’m not going to talk about all of that: I’m not really qualified to talk about the Biblical stuff, as I’m neither Catholic nor Christian, and while I’ve read enough stuff to think that Muir is thinking about Paul’s epistle to the Corinthians, I don’t really know that text well enough to talk about it. Likewise, I’m not really qualified to do a gender theory or trans reading of Paul, and I’m going to leave that to people who know what they’re talking about. 

What I am going to talk about is the question of death and love and lyctorhood. Because while I’ve seen a lot of people say that Camilla and Pal are dead, I am not so sure. I think things are way more complicated than a simple binary of alive or dead.  

The Dialectics of (True) Lyctorhood

One of the key mysteries in the whole Locked Tomb series is the nature of lyctorhood and especially True Lyctorhood, and this is especially true for Palamedes’ arc across all three books. 

In Gideon the Ninth, Palamedes is the first (or second, depending on when Ianthe worked it out off-page) to theorize that Lyctorhood is the gestalt of eight theorems into one Megatheorem (what the OG Lyctors called the Eightfold Word). Unlike Ianthe, Palamedes comes to the conclusion that there’s something wrong with the theory, both in a scientific sense and a moral sense. We’ll learn that Palamedes is not the first person to come to this conclusion - Anastasia thought that the Eightfold Word was wrong and tried to perfect the process to something that wouldn’t kill Samael Novenary, but either got the execution wrong or (more likely) was prevented by John from completing her revised megatheorem. However, Palamedes doesn’t get an opportunity to act on his conclusions, because right after he gets an explanation of the full scope of the Eightfold Word from Ianthe, he unexpectedly solves the murder mystery and then blows himself up. 

In Harrow the Ninth and As Yet Unsent, both Palamedes and Camilla are off-page for much of the book, but are still very much actively carrying out their Plan B (which they probably got the idea for from their solving the Mysterious Study of Doctor Sex). In the material world, Camilla moves heaven and earth to get Pal’s bones, keep them safe, get the bones to Harrow, and get Harrow to both make contact with Pal’s revenant and remake the bone shards into a suitable vessel. In the River, Pal undergoes an impossible endurance trial to keep his mind together...and when he isn’t keeping himself occupied with his new career in romance novels/erotica, he spends a lot of time thinking about the EIghtfold Word. Notably, when Harrow finds him in the bubble, he thinks that Harrow has cracked it, and then gets wrong-footed by how Harrow’s “work” has scrambled her memories...until he sees Gideon. Back in the material world, Harrow reshapes Pal’s bones into a suitable vessel for his spirit and confirms to Camilla that Pal is in the bones. Then at some point between then and the Epilogue, Pal is able to jump from the bones into Camilla’s body, and we see that they’ve undergone the eye color shift that betokens Lyctorhood. 

In Nona the Ninth, we learn a lot more about how what I’ll call Plan C actually functions. In a mirror image to Gideon and Phyrra, Pal’s spirit is in Cam’s body but (at least at first) only one can be conscious at a time. Moreover, there’s a pretty strict time-limit to Pal’s control of the body, both to avoid hurting Camilla or falling prey to the blue madness. While they try to hide it and compensate as best they can with written notes and audio recordings, this is awful for the both of them - Cam is pretty depressed about not being able to touch Pal (hence the bit where she has to sit in the dark in the bathtub when Nona first does the hand kiss trick), and Pal is very anxious about whether he’s harming Camilla’s body or infringing on her selfhood. 

 As a model for Lyctorhood, then, the Sixth’s revised megatheorem seems less than ideal. Then all of the sudden, we learn that Camilla and Palamedes can be present in the body at the same time. This radical shift in the paradigm scares the shit out of Pyrrha, who describes it as “Synthesis” and is totally convinced that it is a “one way ticket” that will kill both Camilla and Palamedes. This is obviously concerning, because Pyrrha is the only one of the OG Lyctors left who remembers how the Eightfold Word was constructed, so presumably she knows what she’s talking about. 

But both Camilla and Pal disagree. Leaving aside the massive power boost, Camilla clearly feels that the brief window of Synthesis is the moment at which they are truly alive - “it was good. We were happy.” (Keep an eye on that “we.”) As is his wont, Palamedes intellectualizes his disagreement with Pyrrha, and we see that this is what he’s been building to since GTN:

“I think a true Lyctorhood is a mutual death...a gravitational singularity creating something new. A true Grand Lysis, rather than the Petty Lysis of the megatheorem.”

In other words, Pal thinks Pyrrha is wrong about dialectics. In Hegelian philosophy, when Thesis meets Anti-Thesis and produces Synthesis, it’s not supposed to be destructive. Rather, it’s described as the resolution of tension, a peaceful overcoming, a unity of opposites. Notably, Pal uses the term “lysis” to describe his fully-worked-out version of True Lyctorhood - lysis is a biological term describing the breakdown of cell walls, so the metaphor is about the dissolving of barriers between cav and necro. More precisely, Pal argues his version of True Lyctorhood is better than the Eightfold Word because it is “mutual” - rather than a one-way sacrifice that eternalizes the hierarchical inequality of the necro/cav relationship, here necro and cav are equals engaged in a generative process. 

Now to a lot of fans, that doesn’t sound much better than the Eightfold Word. After all, as a friend of mine put it, with traditional lyctorhood you’re only killing one person, and with this you’re killing two. However, I’m not convinced that Grand Lysis is the death of two to make three. 

To be fair, there is evidence that runs counter to my argument: after Camilla and Palamedes do “the best and truest and kindest thing we can do in this moment,” Nona observes the result and concludes that this is “not Camilla’s, not Palamedes - that it struck Nona all at once: they were gone - they had left her - they were no longer there.” I would argue that the text of the novel is priming us to accept this verdict, because we’ve seen it established before that Nona looks at the world with eyes that see the truth of the body. (Nona observes similarly when they’re on the Ninth that Paul interacts with the world differently than either Camilla or Palamedes would have done.)

And yet, I’m still not convinced. 

The Thematics: Love, Death, and Memory

My reason for this position has to do with how Tamsyn Muir writes about love, death, and memory. 

Shortly before they carry out Grand Lysis, Palamedes gives a short speech where he characterizes his relationship to Camilla in a way that he hasn’t ever before, even after the duel with Ianthe: “Camilla, we did it right, didn’t we...we had something very nearly perfect...the perfect friendship, the perfect love.” I would argue that there is a thematic parallel being made between perfect (true) love and perfect (true) lyctorhood. 

This produces a profound catharsis for Camilla, but before she commits to going through with this, she asks a critical question:

“Warden - will she know who we are, in the River?”

“Oh, she’s not stupid....In the River - beyond the River - I truly believe we will see ourselves and each other as we really are. And I want them to see us.”

This is a really significant exchange, because it points back to Abigail Pent’s belief in the River Beyond (something that I’m convinced is going to be the focus of Harrow’s descent into Hell and/or the Tower in the River in Alecto), and because it’s also referencing Dulcinea Septimus and whether her soul will recognize the souls of Pal and Cam. (What that exchange says about the Cam/Pal/Dulcie love triangle and/or throuple I will leave for others to debate.) Pal is taking a double leap of faith, both that Abigail is right about the existence of the River Beyond and that Grand Lysis won’t destroy Pal and Cam’s soul. (Speaking of faith, here is where I think Muir is really starting to dig into Corinthians, but again, I’m not going to discuss theology.)

(Also, keep an eye on that “we” and that “us.”)

That’s before; what about after? Well, once they die and are reborn, the as-yet-unnamed “new person” does something really unexpected - after briefly comforting Nona, they have a conversation with Ianthe. Ianthe - whose necromantic specialty and obsession is where the soul goes after death - concludes that “there was another way, Sextus, after all.” And the new person responds by reaching out:

“I know how hard it is for you to kick against the goad...but there are more worlds than this. Come with us. We are the love that is perfected by death - but even death will be no more; death can also die. There’s still time, Ianthe. Time for you, and for Naberius Tern.”

This is a wild exchange for a couple reasons. The first is that, even as a non-Christian with limited understanding of Corinthians, I can see what Muir is doing with the idea of love transcending death. Second, while it is characteristic for their first action to be one of radical compassion, it’s absolutely wild that their offer to Ianthe is one of transcendental love...with Babs. I don’t think Ianthe would consider it for a second, but the implication that it’s even possible after the Eightfold Word process has been completed is startling. Third, it is yet another instance in which the new person uses “we” and “us” to describe themselves. (This pronoun use isn’t entirely consistent - in some places, the new person uses “I” or “my” - but there’s certainly a trend.)

This brings us to the role of memory - and its relation to love and death. It’s most prominent in Harrow the Ninth and Harrow and Gideon’s arcs about remembering, forgetting, and the attempt to preserve love past death, but it’s also there in Pal and Cam’s arcs (”Palamedes remembers everything: That was his problem.I always remember him. That’s mine.”) - in the arcs of the OG Lyctors, and on and on.

Here’s the critical point: Paul remembers, and remembers Camilla and Palamedes separately and collectively. It’s a bit ambiguous at first; when Paul’s very first action as a new person is to remember Nona’s birthday, and it’s absolutely vital that it is a memory grounded in love, it’s not clear whose memory is being accessed. But later on, when Nona is confronting the existential annihilation of love and selfhood, Paul’s response is that “Camilla and Palamedes were loved by Nona...Pyrrha was loved by Nona. It’s finished, it’s done. You can’t take loved away. We loved you too. Palamedes and Camilla loved you.” Again, the intertwining of love, death, and memory, but critically Paul describes these memories separately - “Camilla and Palamedes...Palamedes and Camilla” - and collectively, with a return to the “we.”

On a more mundane level, when they get to the Ninth and encounter the corpse of a devil, Paul says “I’ve seen this before. My memory’s split.” Paul’s memory is split because only Camilla remembers seeing Colum Asht become possessed - Palamedes had left the room during the fight, so he never saw it happen. It’s a small detail that reveals much.

So here’s the TLDR:

Love transcends death through acts of memory.

Paul is not a tabula rasa, Paul remembers.

Paul is not purely a gestalt. Cam and Pal exist within Paul.

The Metaphysics: Grand Lysis and John Gaius

Here is where I might be getting a bit ahead of myself, but I couldn’t stop myself from drawing a comparison between the ritual Cam and Pal carry out in the main narrative and the secret ritual John did with/to Alecto that we learn about in the interstitial narrative. And to compare the two, I’m going to use a more metaphysical approach. 

There are two metaphysical analogies that I see at work in John’s secret, original lyctorhood process. The first is Biblical, unsurprisingly. Tamsyn Muir quite clearly alludes both to the Book of Genesis - “I ripped half of my ribs from my body and made you from the dirt, my blood, my vomit, my bone” - and the Book of John - “For she so loved the world that she had given them John.” 

The other analogy, and this might be more controversial, is from the occult - specifically, Aleister Crowley’s concept of the Scarlet Woman. In Crowley’s occult theory, the Scarlet Woman is a living woman who becomes the avatar of an earth goddess (very much in the sense of a fertility goddess), so that a male magician (i.e, Crowley) can tap into the female side of the cosmos and attain enlightenment. Significantly, the Scarlet Woman is thought to be an entirely passive entity - Crowley writes “she cannot say no. Her decisions are devoid of authority.” - and is meant to be used and then discarded. 

To tie it back to John Gaius, who is a very Aleister Crowley-like figure, we have a male magician who tries to unify with an earth goddess, but can’t manage it - “I took you into myself and we became one...I mean, I tried. There was so much of you...you didn’t fit....I realized you were too much for me.” So instead he builds a vessel to contain the goddess - “a house to put you in” - in the shape of a beautiful human woman. His connection to that vessel gives him godlike power...but it’s all for his benefit. Not only does John not save the world for Alecto, but he sticks her in a body that she hates and then shoves her in the Locked Tomb. 

Cam and Pal could not be more different, in no small part because they’re borrowing from very different metaphysical analogies. Yes, there’s still the Biblical stuff going on that I’ve been diligently trying not to talk about, but I would also argue that there is a heaping helping of alchemical imagery at work. Let’s start from the way that Grand Lysis is described - Cam and Pal ingest a mysterious powder (some sort of holdout drug or poison - EDIT: as others have corrected me, this is probably Pal’s powdered bones), then they suddenly erupt into all-encompassing flames, then they emerge from the flames...like a phoenix. And to alchemists, the Phoenix represented transformation, the attainment of the Philosopher’s Stone, the accomplishment of the Magnum Opus.

Another key alchemical concept/symbol is that of the Rebis. Like the Phoenix, the Rebis is meant to symbolize the end result of the Magnum Opus - a union and reconciliation of opposites, both spirit and matter, moon and sun, and male and female. And, in a book that is also borrowing pretty heavily from the Tarot - hence the Tower in the River - the Rebis is also associated with the World card, the last of the Major Arcana. Both are depicted as hermaphroditic figures, both represent the union of the material and the spiritual, and both are the end result of a process of enlightenment. 

Doesn’t that sound just like Paul? 

Conclusion

Paul is love. 

#nona the ninth spoilers #ntn spoilers #palamedes sextus #camilla hect #the locked tomb #nona the ninth #Youtube #the sixth house #paul tlt #campal #campaldulcie

[anjaelle]

The Girlfriend Experience

Pairing: Frank Castle x Black! OFC (Cori)

Tags: Mild Age Gap (Mid-late twenties OC/mid-thirties Frank), Frank Corrupting an Honest Woman, Frank being a smug piece of shit, choking, spanking, marking, hair grabbing, Fingering

Summary: Frank, ever the menace, convinces Cori that it's okay to break rules.

Word Count: 3.3K

a/n: This started out as one thing and turned into something completely different. I started this in Fall 2022 and I'm just now finishing it. Congratulate me now.

(Gif Source)

She very rarely visited her brothers shop. At least, that was the case these last few years. She could understand why Brandon's chair was so popular: He was funny, he was skilled, and he was adept at charming the masses.

She could remember learning how to do shape-ups and trims as a teenager just from watching him work while she did her homework. Sometimes she'd listen in on the barber shop discussions with mild intrigue. They'd talk about sports, and women, and...more sports. Sometimes they'd talk about whatever show or movie they'd watched last night.

It was like watching a foreign entity in an enclosure from a distance, if she was being honest.

Quiet and pensive, she was able to fly under the radar for the vast majority of her teenage years. Sure, sometimes boys would talk to her when she visited. And she'd shyly respond before burying her head back into the books. As she got older and started working in the shop part-time, she noticed the looks even more. For the most part, she could brush them off. But every so often someone would cross the line and Brandon would put his foot down to make it clear that his little sister was off-limits. That was the agreement, and that was the rule.

Then Frank Castle showed up.

Cori wasn't sure when Frank became a regular. While she was juggling grad school and work, she didn't really have time to visit her brother anymore. The first time she met HIM was when she had to fill in for Brandon, and Frank scoffed at her supposed ability to cut and style his hair the way he liked.

That was usually the case with new clients. The incredulity used to piss her off, but now it was just tired.

Unlike previous clients, however, Frank watched her carefully as she worked. It was mildly unsettling, if she was honest with herself, because she wasn't used to people watching her the way she watched others. It didn't help that he had the world's best poker face.

It took 2 more visits before he finally spoke to her in something other than one word responses and grunts.

When her brother had to leave to pick up his kids, she offered to stay and take care of Frank. Despite how intimidating he initially seemed, he exuded a sense of safety that made her trust him. The space was empty and quiet, save for the gentle buzz of the clipper as it glided over his hair.

"What's Cori short for?" He asked, suddenly. She was caught off guard by the question. Something fluttered in her stomach at the gruff way his voice handled her name and she felt her hands hesitate.

"...Corinthian." She responded, plainly. He raised a brow at her and she shrugged, restarting the clippers to even out the back of his hair.

"You're fucking with me."

"Am I?" She chanced a small smirk at him in the mirror and their eyes met. He smirked at her in response. Then an uncharacteristic chuckle rumbled from his chest.

"What's it really short for?"

She gently tilted his head forward to trim the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Nothing. I'm named after my father." She confessed. He hummed, satisfied by the answer and comfortable with the silence that followed.

After that, they would always greet each other whenever she came by the shop to visit. He said her name with a level of cool distance that she didn't buy for a second.

She wasn't sure if her brother ever noticed the soft smile that crossed Frank's features whenever she walked through the door.

---

"You had me in your phone as 'Big Guy'?" He asked, grinning, "Kinda lazy, huh?"

She crossed the room and sat cross-legged on her bed, suddenly hyper aware of how everything in her small studio apartment looked. Despite this being Cori's home, she felt out of her element. After all, meeting clients after hours was a no-no. It was rule number one above ALL rules.

But, of course, Frank always found a way to make her break her own code of ethics.

She picked at her thumbnail and shrugged, "I don't know. What else was I supposed to call you when I didn't know you yet?"

He didn't answer, but he shut the door behind him and slipped his boots off, neatly placing them in the corner. Cori was grateful he remembered THAT rule, at least. As if reading her mind, he glanced down at his clothes and grumbled something about rain.

"You could've rescheduled," she offered, "I wouldn't have minded. This isn't worth walking in the rain for."

He answered by shaking the damp growth of curls from his forehead, "You know you're the only one who knows how I like it. And it's not like I know what you do when I'm not around. You probably gotta--I dunno...go to class or somethin'. Save baby animals. Tutor orphans. Shit like that."

At this, she rolled her eyes and rested her chin in her hand, shooting him a tired look as he moved to pull his wet gray hoodie over his head and shoulders.

"I'll have you know I live a very interesting life," she averted her gaze as his Semper Fi shirt briefly rode up, revealing his treasure trail and and light scarring on his stomach, "I'm young, I'm pretty. The world is my oyster...or whatever."

She sighed, not even believing her own lies. Her life consisted of work, and staring at her business management books until the words started to blend together in a puree of intellectualism. She couldn't even remember the last time she wore a cute outfit and went to the club. Or the last time she texted her friends. She made a mental note to do both at some point as she rolled onto her stomach and reached under her bed for her toolkit.

"You don't gotta have an interesting life," he said, watching her do gymnastics in an effort to find her things, "Boring's good. Boring's safe."

Her hand swept across the floor until her fingers brushed the shoebox, "Who says I want to be good and safe? Maybe I could use a little bit of danger in my life. It'll give me interesting stories to tell, at least."

Pulling the box from its hiding space, she looked up to see Frank leaning up against the wall, watching her intensely with an amused look on her face, "You don't mean that. If you saw the insane shit I saw..."

There was a pregnant pause between them, with Cori feeling like she was missing something and Frank refusing to finish his statement. She jumped to her feet, choosing to break the silence.

"You want some water or something? I also have iced tea, ginger ale-"

"Water's good."

"Is tap alright?"

"Do I seem like the Perrier type?"

She offered a small smile as she turned the faucet on and waited for the water to cool, "Maybe a little."

He guffawed.

"Did you wash and condition this time?" Cori asked. She eyed his hair, already knowing the answer.

"No."

"Why not?" She handed him the glass filled halfway with ice water, and his eyes locked onto hers. She nearly dropped it.

"I guess I kinda like it better when you do it," he held her gaze as he took a long sip from his glass. She deadpanned.

"So what you're saying is you forgot."

He pulled the glass from his lips and grinned at her, slyly.

"You think Imma liar?"

"...I'm not entertaining that with a response."

She wasn't sure what he did for a living. Unsurprisingly, he wasn't one for storytelling and evaded doing so by listening to Cori ramble on about her life. Was his day-to-day so full of turmoil that the mundane seemed like reprieve? All she knew was that he was in the military a while back, and that his wife passed away. She would make up scenarios in her head where he was a boxing champion or a spy.

Big, broody, and decorated in scars and dark bruises, Frank seemed wildly out of place in her small, pink decorated bathroom. She made sure to grab the chair from the kitchen, as well as a towel, a comb, and HER expensive shampoo and conditioner that he certainly wouldn't repay her for.

"You owe me extra for this," she warned, glancing at him from above as he tilted his head back over the sink, "This high quality shit is expensive, Castle."

He hummed his response and closed his eyes as she ran the detachable shower head over his dark hair. The moment the warm water touched his scalp, he sighed in content. And the sigh went straight to her coochie, much to her annoyance. The feeling intensified as she lathered up his hair and he peeked an eye open to look at her.

She knew Frank had grown used to her. His barber shop persona was fascinating. He'd argue with her brother about sports team rankings and drafts. Then the deep rumble of disapproval that blossomed from his chest every time her brother mentioned an athlete he hated made her shift in her seat.

Once upon a time, Frank claimed that she was way too serious. And, thus, he enjoyed pushing her buttons for his own sick enjoyment. Cori understood that he wasn't really like this with most people. He fell into the habit of flustering her on purpose. Especially around the other guys in the shop, though they never seemed to notice.

She had the upper hand when he was in her apartment, to an extent.

The very first time she washed his hair, he stiffened at her touch and it took a while for him to visibly calm down. He admitted to her that it'd been a while since someone else washed his hair, and he wasn't used to it. When she asked him if he wanted her to stop, he shot her a long, intense look before telling her he was fine.

He confessed to her during his second apartment visit that his "profession" made him wary about most things, including touching and...overt closeness. Of course, those weren't the words he used. He mumbled something about offensive hands and defensive moves. She asked for clarification and he evaded the question.

She wasn't sure what their relationship was now. But there was a noticeable shift. Cori's fingers gently massaged his scalp, and she hummed something to herself. His shoulders relaxed, a small smile graced his features, and he opened his eyes again to watch her as she worked the comb through his hair. She was keenly aware of it, but she shyly avoided his gaze, focusing instead on rinsing out the last of the conditioner.

"Up." She commanded, in a hoarse whisper. He sat up and her eyes followed the water that dripped down his neck, staining his shirt. She knew he noticed. She chose to play stupid. Cori towel dried his hair, beginning at his neck and working her way up to his hair that fell over his dark eyes. She worked in silence, lost in her own head until he lightly grabbed her wrist.

"Com'ere," he said with a head tilt. She eyed him curiously, and he laughed. "I'm serious, Cori. C'mon."

She sighed, pretending to be tired but internally intrigued. The minute she stepped in front of him, he gently pulled at her arm.

"Closer..."

She stopped fighting the smile forming on her face as she rolled her eyes and shuffled an inch closer.

"A little closer," Frank coaxed.

"You're so obnoxious." Cori mumbled, but stepped an inch closer anyway, refusing to give him the benefit of direct eye contact.

His arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her into the space between his legs. She was surprised to find her hands moving of their own volition: one resting on his thick shoulder and the other gently brushing the droplets of water from the side of his face with the soft towel.

"There ya go.” He looked up at her with mischief in his eyes, "You gonna stop avoiding me, now?"

"I wasn't avoiding you," Cori grumbled.

She was absolutely avoiding him. She continued to towel try his hair as he rubbed small circles into the small of her back.

"It's not gonna work, Frank."

He snorted and she couldn't even blame him. She didn't sound the least bit convincing. He cocked his head to the side and licked his lips.

"Are you trying to hurt my feelings, Cor?"

"Yes."

She combed her fingers through his hair, pushing it back and away from his face. Anything to avoid looking directly at him. With his hands on her, and the close proximity, Cori wasn't confident in her ability to hold out for much longer.

"Sweetheart, you're killing me," her breath hitched. He leaned forward, pressing his face against her soft stomach.

Cori was always startled by how quickly she blacked out whenever he got into her head. She couldn't remember climbing into his lap and tangling her fingers in his damp hair as she kissed him. His hands roamed from her lower back, slipping beneath her cotton shorts to grab her bare ass in his large calloused hands.

"Shit. You were ready for me, huh?" He chided.

"Shut up."

The only fleeting logical thought floating in her empty, horny head was the question of how the chair could handle their combined weight. His tongue slipped between her lips and he let out a low groan that pushed the thoughts away just as quickly as they arrived. Cori rocked her hips against his lap as Frank smiled against her lips.

"You're so smug," she mumbled, moving to kiss along his jaw. Her hands slipped under his shirt and her nails walked along the hard lines of his stomach. He sucked air between his teeth. He worked her shorts down over her ass and she pushed his shirt over his head, tossing it into the empty tub beside them.

She kissed down his neck and chest, pausing only to examine the numerous scars and fading bruises decorating his skin.

“Do they hurt?” Cori asked, tenderly. She hovered her fingers over a reddened mark that appeared to be the most recent of his injuries. He clicked his tongue dismissively.

He flattened her hand on his chest under his palm, “See? I’m good, baby. You don’t gotta worry about me, I’m not fragile.” He dragged her hand slowly down his torso, and the muscles in his stomach reflexively twitched in response. Cori swallowed hard as she felt the length of him harden between her thighs.

“Oh…” she managed to whisper, under her breath. He curled his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her down for a slow kiss. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she sighed contentedly into his mouth. As if moving of their own volition, Cori’s hands worked to drag her nails over his sensitive length beneath the coarse denim. As she toyed with the head of his dick through his jeans, his hands roamed around her stomach and reached up to grab her breasts under her shirt.

“Fuck…” She started, instinctively arching her back and abandoning the zipper she’d begun working on. She pressed her hands over his, urging him to touch her more, “…that feels…”

She struggled to get the words out as he pushed her shirt up over her breasts to tease her nipples between his fingers.

“Use your words, baby,” he coaxed. When he wrapped his lips around her right nipple and reached between them to tease her clit, a hoarse cry rose from her throat.

She whined, rocking her hips against his hand. Her head lolled back and it took everything in her to keep from falling off of his lap. A strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer, so she couldn’t wriggle away, “Please…”

“Please what, Cor’?” He slipped his index and middle fingers deep into her pussy, curling them against her. She gripped his shoulder, digging her nails into his skin.

“God god god,” she whined, pitifully, "right there."

He watched her work herself into a frenzy, exuding the air of semi-smug amusement. She wanted to slap the grin off of his face. She could barely remember why he was here in the first place. Maybe he planned this all along. Then he smacked her on the ass—one sharp quick smack—and all she could do was allow her brain to short circuit. She managed to pull a deep groan from him--one that rumbled throughout her body and made her shudder--when she dragged her nails along his scalp and a grabbed some of his damp hair in her fist. The groan dissolved into a low laugh, and he sucked air between his teeth.

"Harder." He commanded. She complied, giving his curls a sharp tug as she rolled her hips in his lap. An almost primal grunt resonated from his parted lips that she swallowed with her own. Cori reached down again to make another eager attempt at undoing his zipper, and he stopped her, grabbing both of her hands in one of his.

"Are you talking to anyone else?" He suddenly asked.

Cori felt like she was in a thick fog and she'd lost all memory of every word she'd ever spoken. She took a deep breath as if trying to register where she was.

"...I don't think so." She slurred through the haze.

His fingers stilled between her thighs and she pouted, shifting her hips to chase the oncoming climax. She could almost taste it, it was so close.

"You don't think so?" He pressed his thick thumb against her clit, and her thighs tensed around him. She was positive he could feel her heart pounding.

"Frankie please..." She arched her back.

"I can find out if you are, Cor'. So speak up."

A small grin pulled at the corner of her mouth when she locked eyes with him. She could almost drown in the darkness of his gaze. It excited her. She wasn't talking to anyone else, it's not like she had the time. But a part of her wanted to lie just to see what he would do. He quirked an eyebrow at her like he wanted to devour her whole. All he needed was the confirmation he wanted, because they both knew he didn't like sharing.

She decided to risk it, "What if I am?"

"Are you?"

"Maybe."

His fingers pressed against her g-spot and her body jolted in response, leaving small aftershocks in its wake.

"Don't fucking play games with me." He licked his lips and picked up the speed of his thumb on her clit, "Is someone else making you come?"

She swallowed hard, shaking her head.

"Use your words." He demanded.

"No, baby."

She felt his dick jump between her thighs at the term of endearment. He curled her fingers against her g-spot again, and then again. And he pulled her flush against him when her legs began to shake and she tried to run from the pleasure

"I'm the only one that makes you feel this good, right, sweet girl?"

"Yes, yes, yes, yessss." She chanted, digging her nails into his arm. "Oh, ffffuck!"

He whispered in her ear, talking her through it as she came and leaving hickies on her neck. Cori shuddered hard in his lap and throwing her head back so hard she nearly tipped over. She was sure her neighbors thought she was getting murdered in her bathroom, and she knew she'd have to face the curious looks the next time she ran into them in the hall. But as she came down from her high and dove into another deep kiss after he licked her off of his fingers, she couldn't bring herself to give a shit.

Frank suddenly stood up, wrapping her legs around his hips to carry her back to her bedroom.

"Wait, your hair." She mumbled between kisses, "I have to--"

"Fuck the hair," he grumbled, tossing her onto the mattress, "You can do it tomorrow morning."

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x ofc #frank castle #jon bernthal #jon bernthal x reader #jaelle writes

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

2 Corintios 13:14 La gracia del Señor Jesucristo, el amor de Dios y la comunión del Espíritu Santo sean con todos vosotros.

May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all. — 2 Corinthians 13:14 | La Biblia de las Américas (LBLA) and The Books of the Bible NT (BOOKS) La Biblia de las Américas © 1986, an original work translated from the Hebrew-Aramaic and Greek directly into modern Spanish. The Lockman Foundation. All Rights Reserved and The Books of the Bible NT Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® All rights reserved worldwide. Cross References: Acts 15:11; Romans 5:5; Romans 16:20; 2 Corinthians 8:9; Philippians 2:1; Jude 1:21

#blessing #grace #Lord #Jesus Christ #love #God #fellowship #Holy Spirit #2 Corinthians 13:14 #The Epistle of Second Corinthians #New Testament #LBLA #La Biblia de las Américas #The Lockman Foundation #BOOKS #The Books of the Bible NT #Biblica Inc.

[gabessquishytum]

I don't know if tumblr ate my ask, if it's been buried, or if you decided you weren't interested. If it's one of the latter two, I apologize for this.

Beauty and the Beast Dreamling AU

When Prince Dream refuses a marriage proposal, (Titania?) he is cursed with immortality and a 'hideous' form and now he goes by Nightmare.

Matthew is Cogsworth

Lucienne is Ms. Potts

Corinthian is Lumiere (because he's always horny lol)

Enter Hob 'Monsterfucker' Gadling who has no idea what he did to become a 'prisoner' in this massive castle but the second he sees Nightmare, he really doesn't give a fuck. Nightmare is 8 feet tall, pale as a corpse with long messy black hair. He's got rows of sharp teeth that are very reminiscent of a shark and eyes like the night sky. Hob takes one look at him and his brain-to-mouth filter breaks and he says "Are you that big everywhere?" He's mortified but he also desperately wants to know because, of course, he's a bit of a size queen and if Nightmare’s cock is proportional to the rest of his body (it is) then it'll fill him soooo good.

Hob spends his entire time as a 'prisoner' desperately trying to get Nightmare to fuck him with his deliciously huge cock. No holds barred, no holding back, absolutely no shame. He'd legit walk around completely naked of he thought Nightmare would bend him over the nearest surface and fuck him. He's a whore of the highest order, but he is ONLY Nightmare’s whore.

- 🐺

Ooo so sorry if I did miss this one!!! It's fabulous!!!

I'm imagining all the ways Hob tries to seduce Nightmare. At first he tries conventional methods - he flirts, he serves dinner, he even serenades Nightmare with a lute he found lying around the castle! Nothing seems to work. The only time Nightmare shows any real interest is when they talk about books together, but it's hardly a topic that can lead into a proposition! Hob is getting pretty stumped as to what he can do to get this wonderful creature's attention!

To pass the time he starts cleaning the place up a bit, and because the castle is so filthy he ends up stripping down almost naked so as not to get his only set of clothes dirty. He scrubs and dusts and makes the place shine, and about half way through Corinthian is like... dude...... he's watching you!!! He's staring at your ass!!!!!!!

It's Hob’s first ray of hope that Nightmare might actually be interested in him! And so he decides he's just gonna be direct. He'll ask Nightmare to fuck him.

Nightmare is all "I'm cursed, everyone who loves me is cursed" and Hob is like "hey, I didn't say anything about LOVE. I just want that dick."

And so they do it! Nightmare's cock is bigger than Hob’s entire forearm and its probably the most intense experience of his life ever. He was expecting a rough, careless lover... but Nightmare is good to him. So tender, so considerate and so eager to enjoy Hob’s body in return! It's more than fucking, and as Hob bounces on that massive cock and looks into those beautiful black eyes... he realises that he was have been incorrect. Its entirely possible that he might juuuust be little bit in love with Nightmare.

Oops. Surely it can't do any harm! Unless, ya know, Titania finds out. Let's just hope nobody tells her...

#🐺 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft

[thenightling]

Sandman Easter Eggs

Real Easter Eggs in The Sandman Netflix series that have been noticed so far:

Warning there are spoilers in this list.

1.  The Key to Hell (a major plot point in The Sandman: Season of Mists) is a sigil in the binding circle that holds Morpheus.

2.    Gregory dying and little Goldie hatching may be foreshadowing for a certain comic storyline.

3.     The little flowers that sprouted up when Gregory was uncreated are very similar to the red flowers that formed from the dripping blood on Morpheus's hands when he had to euthanize his son in The Sandman: Brief Lives.

4.  (This was in the comics).  Judy's ex is Donna AKA Foxglove, a major character in The Sandman: A game of you.

5.  Gault's name might be an attempt to merge Brute and Glob's names together. The characters she replaced.   Obviously they wouldn't use Groot.

6.    The name of John Constantine's punk band is on a poster in episode 3. 7.   The mad Mod witch is also on a poster in episode 3.

8.   Mike Dringenberg is an artist for The Sandman comics.   You will see a sign behind the Corinthian when he talks to Nimrod, The Good Doctor, and Funland.  The sign reads "Mike's Drinks and Burgers."

9.    The carvings on the gates of horn tell the story of Morpheus and Alianora and how he got his helm.  They are exact replicas of the panels from The Sandman: Overture. There are two sets of gates in the Realm of Dreams (The gates were originally referenced in Homer's The Odyssey).  One set of gates made of horn, and one set of gates made of ivory.  The dreams that pass through the gates made of ivory are false and deceptive.  The dreams that pass through the gates made of horn are true, whether literally or metaphorically.  Morpheus prefers to use the horned gates so the ones you see him push open are the ones made of horn.

10.    When Morpheus leaves The Corinthian in the first episode he is fully clothed.  When he is summoned his clothing are gone and his helm is beaten up.  This is because the events of The Sandman: Overture have happened in what was for us just a few seconds.

11.   This is more trivia than anything.  Squatterbloat is now being used for his original purpose of gatekeeper and guide.  The guide in the comics was the rhyming demon, Etrigan.   Rhyming is a sign of status among some demons and they do it with pride.

12.   The episode Imperfect Hosts is pun on the fact that Cain, Abel, Lucien (now Lucienne), Destiny, Even (who hasn't appeared in the show yet), Mad Mod Witch (who hasn't appeared in the show), and The Three Witches (Hecate, Fates, Furies) were all old horror hosts.  They hosted the DC Horror anthology comics similar to Tales from the Crypt.  Cain hosted The House of Mystery.  Abel hosted The House of Secrets.  Lucien hosted Tales of Ghost Castle. The Three Witches hosted The Witching Hour.  This pun existed in the comics as well. 13.  After Abel's second murder in the episode Imperfect Hosts, you will see Cain snag a cookie (biscuit).  This is a nod to the old House of Mystery comics where Cain had a sweet tooth.  In one issue Karen Berger (founder of Vertigo and the one who took a chance on the original Sandman comics) bribed Cain with cookies.

14.  Lyta is originally from a defunct continuity where she was Wonder Woman's daughter.  Her name was short for Hippolyta, named after Wonder Woman's mother.

15.   Jed was a character from the 1976 Sandman comics and now (in his dreams) wears the costume of that hero as a little call back to his origin.  Hector Hall served as that hero for a time but that was left out of the TV show.

16.   Hector is from a semi-defunct continuity where he was the grandson of Carter Hall (Hawkman).   Hector and Lyta have been used repeatedly in DC comics and in their most recent appearances in JSA (2008) they died and their souls were taken into The Dreaming by their son, Daniel.  This was Hector's second death because...  comic books.  He was revived after Sandman and then killed again.

17.   Jed has twelve inch action figures of both Wonder Woman and Batman.

18.   Morpheus's capture is in 1916 to overlap with the real world sleeping sickness that happened around that time.

19.   Death being given an apple by a friendly fruit vender is from the comic Death: The High cost of Living.

20.   Though not shown in the episode, the hunger Hob describes feeling but not being able to die from it- Morpheus experienced that in his captivity.  In the comics the first thing he did when he escaped was eat, before even conjuring clothing. He raided a dream buffet. 21.   The sigils in each Endless Gallery are supposed to be in age order.  A book (Destiny), an Ankh (Death), the helm (Dream), a blank space (formerly a sword for Destruction), A heart (Desire), a hooked ring (Despair), and a swirl of color for Delirium.   An illustration mistake put Death's ankh first in some of the early comics depicting Desire's gallery.  That mistake was deliberately inserted into the TV series as a homage to the original comics. 22.  Matthew The Raven was Matthew Cable (a character from Swamp Thing) when he was alive.  If you would like a version of his backstory, watch the canceled 2019 Swamp Thing Series.  Very different actor but that was the same character (originally).  When they found out Swamp Thing would not get a second season they tacked on a scene of Matthew being killed just in case The Sandman got adapted since Matthew the raven was made from Matthew’s ghost.      23.  Ric the Vic was an ally of John Constantine's in the comics. 24.    The Boogey Man and Family Man (mentioned by the serial killers) were villains from DC comics.    Family Man was actually the killer of John Constantine's father.   Both Family Man and Boogey Man died.  One in Swamp Thing, one in Hellblazer (John Constantine's comics).   25.   John Dee is the old Justice League villain, Doctor Destiny. It was probably wise not to use his alias as it would confuse new fans with Destiny of The Endless. 26.  Pandemonium (meaning "All the Demons”) is the capital city of Hell in John Milton's Paradise Lost. This is where the word comes from. In The Sandman Netflix series Pandemonium deliberately resembles The Vatican.  27.   Matthew comments on how cold Hell is.  Believe it or not the earliest depictions of Hell were of a very cold place because it was devoid of God's light, love, and warmth.   It was medieval art that popularized the idea of Hell being hot.   28.  The Wonder Woman 1984 movie borrows Morpheus's Dreamstone and reinvents it as a plot device with a different design. The actor who plays Abel is also in Wonder Woman 1984 as the man who wished for a cup of coffee.  I choose to pretend it was Abel in disguise.  29.   Many actors in The Sandman bonus episode Dream of a Thousand Cats and Calliope were in The Sandman Audio drama.   David Tennant (Loki in the audio drama), Michael Sheen (Lucifer), Arthur Darvill (Shakespeare), James McAvoy (Morpheus), and Neil Gaiman.

30.   Arthur Darvill has played three DC characters so far.  Shakespeare (Sandman audio drama), Richard Madoc (Sandman Netflix series), and Rip Hunter (Legends of Tomorrow).

31.   Mark Hamill has played The Joker (Batman animated series, animated movies and video games), Trickster (The Flash 1990s series and Justice League: Action), and Swamp Thing (Justice League Action) and now Mervyn Pumpkinhead (Sandman).    Mark Hamill has also voiced Marvel characters like Hobgoblin (90s Spiderman animated series), and ironically he was Nightmare in Ultimate Spiderman (Animated series). Nightmare (ruler of the Dream Dimension) is pretty much Marvel’s equivalent of Dream if he had never had his “time out” bubble.   Though Nightmare was created first he went under drastic revisions to make him more and more like Dream.  In fact in the 2019 Deadpool: Annual 1, when Deadpool landed in Nightmare’s throne room he quips “Is Neil Gaiman going to sue us for this?” Bonus:   32.  Cain and his house of Mystery appeared in the animated series Justice League: Action for the episode Trick or threat. 33.  The grimoire used to summon and trap Morpheus was used in the Justice League: Action episode Supernatural adventures in Babysitting (though they used the wrong pronunciation.  It’s Mawd-lin Grimoire, not Magda-lin Grimoire) even though it’s spent Magdalene Grimoire. 34.    Death has an animated short called DC Showcase: Death. It is a bonus feature on the blu ray for the animated movie Wonder Woman: Bloodlines. 35.  Morpheus’s helm appears as an Easter Egg in a Smallvile tie-in comic. 36.  The storyline of the Lucifer TV show where Lucifer quits ruling Hell, goes to Earth, is followed by his loyal demon, Mazikeen, opens Lux, and takes up piano and singing is from The Sandman: Season of Mists.   37.  The plot of Dead Boy Detectives is also from The Sandman: Season of Mists.  

#The Sandman #Sandman #Neil Gaiman

[ml-nolan]

Kick's 2023 Fic Roundup (YEEEHA!)

[Please use the Kayne Malevolent voice for that title]

SOOOOOO all domains included—fics, original fiction, nonfiction, and copywriting—I wrote over 300k words this year. Of that, fic was 132,449 words! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 I'm pretty proud of it, honestly, so I thought I'd hop on the rundown bandwagon.

Thanks to everyone who read my stuff, kudos-d it, commented on it, and yelled with me about it on Tumblr and Discord (Honk-Honk to all my honkos!!! 💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤). Y'all have made my life so much more fun this year.

The Sandman - Dreamling

Music When You Speak [Rated E | 72,075 words]

When incognito rock star Dream of the Endless drifts into Hob Gadling's record store, it's instant attraction. Neither of them expected things to get this serious.

This started out as an experiment in "taking time to enjoy the scenery," so naturally I had to [SPOILER ALERT] add a kidnapping subplot that ends with Dream naked and covered in blood.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Oops.

I'm so glad so many people loved it. I loved it too. Still do.

Playlist here

Aaaaand complimentary ficlet, Piece by Piece [Rated T | 610 words].

I'll Make You Sorry [Rated E | 12,035 words]

Things from Hob's past are making Hob's hookups run screaming into the night, and it's really freaking him out. Dream is very concerned (both that other people are dreaming Hob's dreams and that Hob takes so many lovers).

This is my only canon-adjacent fic (so far) that isn't ficlet or pure smut, and I enjoyed making both of them so deeply uncomfortable. Also I need to write more Corinthian because I found his voice disturbingly easy to emulate. 😂😂😂

On Sex Dreams and Anachronisms [Rated E | 1,818 words]: Two embarrassing times Dream dropped in on Hob's sexy dreams and one much nicer one. Second silliest thing I wrote this year.

(Not) Spellbound [Rated E | 1,192]: This is just bondage smut. You're welcome. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

How to Extract Your Boyfriend from Toxic Internet Culture [Rated G | 704 words]: By far the silliest thing I wrote this year. Features retired Dream's stint as a True Crime Wine Mom.

One Tall Dark Stranger [Rated G | 565 words]: From the prompt "Accidental Hand Touching."

You Will Not Be Bothered [Rated G | 420 words]: From the prompt "picking a leaf/flower petal out of their hair, or brushing dirt off of their face."

I'll Be a Better Man Than My Father Ever Was - Chapter 4 by @chaosclimber | for the Dreamling for Ukraine fundraiser.

[PODFIC] Inappropriate Uses of the Dewey Decimal System and Coworkers by Hob Gadling, no PhD (Chapter 2) by @chaosheadspace | for the Dreamling for Ukraine fundraiser.

Metaphysics by @quillingwords

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The Sandman - Femslash Weekend!

This was so fun, and I have at least one more femslash idea I really hope to have the spoons to finish in January. 💜🖤💜🖤

You're Gonna Catch Hell [Johanna/Mazikeen | Rated E | 2,116 Words]

Johanna Constantine, a gun for hire, is meeting a very dangerous new client at Club Hell. A mysterious woman who spots her right when she enters the club might pose some complications.

Pure smut, although I have an enormous hc around this AU that I'm not sure will ever see the light of day.

Obliterate All Prior Things [Lucienne/Gault | Rated E | Words 3,421]

Whatever horrible thing Lucienne says is happening to The Dreaming is certainly happening. But the other part—the bit where Lucienne thinks she is the reason for it—cannot be allowed to stand. Run away with me, Gault wants to say. We'll find our own way. Be whoever we want. And you can finally rest.

I have huge feelings about Gaulcienne, which will become extremely clear if you read this.

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The Magnus Archives — Goof Troop (aka., TimGerry)

Just an Animal Looking for a Home [Rated E | 33,349 words | Love and Nonsense AU - WIP]

When Tim Stoker came to Pinhole Books, it was like someone jammed a foot on the accelerator of Gerry's life. After a health scare, a wedding to his (let's be honest) soul mate, and the exponential growth of the shop, it's showing no signs of slowing down. Now, Pinhole is opening a second location, their beloved Fiona Law is retiring, and Tim and Gerry are bringing a new canine member into their family. But even good changes can be overwhelming, and Gerry finds himself dealing with old trauma he thought he'd left far behind him. Plus, Tim is unexpectedly forced to face old conflicts, which takes him places where Gerry can't follow. With all these stressors on top of the typical growing pains that come with a still-new marriage, Tim and Gerry have to learn to work through their issues together. It's either that or fall apart.

This is the sequel to Hiding in Plain Sight, which I actually started this in 2022 and took a hiatus while I was writing Music When You Speak (so the word count includes 2022 chapters, don't @ me 😂). It's pretty heavy but I think the break will make the story that much better for it, honestly.

Playlist here.

Also in this AU, a couple ficlets set before TimGerry got together.

What's His Deal? [Rated T | 608 words]: Gerry tries to find out what Tim's deal is. Jon is completely unhelpful. From "Blossoming Romance" Tumblr prompt: "Attempting to find out if they are single/available"

Scoop [Rated E | 682 words]: Gerry has just hired a new employee at Pinhole books, and it may just cost him his sanity. Involves ice cream.

Ad Libitum [Rated E | 1,861 words - WIP]

It's Tim Stoker's first week at The Magnus Conservatory, and his piano accompanist hasn't shown up for auditions. An imposing goth swoops out of the shadows to save him, but Tim worries his instant attraction to the man may make it hard to control himself.

I just started this one! Music conservatory AU where Tim is studying voice and Gerry is a pianist. Excited to see where it goes (honestly, your guess is as good as mine at the moment).

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And of course I've got a book and a Patreon with two serials in progress if you're interested.😉😉😉 But I hope to write a LOT more fic in 2024! Love y'all. 💜🖤💜🖤💜💜🖤💜🖤💜💜🖤💜🖤💜

#ML Nolan #Kick's Fics #the sandman #dreamling #sandman femslash #the magnus archives #timgerry #gerrytim #goof troop #dream of the endless #hob gadling #lucienne the librarian #gault the sandman #mazikeen #johanna constantine #gaulcienne #johazikeen #gerry delano #tim stoker #sandman podfic

[ahsxkatano]

Where I Can’t Follow (Preview)

author’s note: So, I had mentioned the other day about wanting to write a Dream x Spouse!Reader, and I have written a small blurb :) I wanted to make it gender neutral, but if you see anything you feel may be too descriptive, please let me know! I plan on making a short series about Spouse!Reader pretty much going through the motions after her husband mysteriously disappears. Let me know what you guys think 🥺 this is my second time ever attempting an x reader so I apologize if it reads weird!!

masterlist

pairing: Dream/Morpheus x Spouse!Reader

request: no

warnings: a lil angsty but nothing crazy (yet)

word count: 556

We begin…

…with a lovers quarrel:

“I just don’t understand why I can’t come with you. The Corinthian is not one to be toyed with, my love, especially on your own.” (Y/n) crosses their arms, feeling anger consume every inch of their body. Maybe anger at the present moment, but it was only there to mask the massive worry that shook them to their core.

The man before them appeared to look as stoic as ever, but (Y/N) was able to read him like a book. One would hope so after centuries of marriage. But they could sense the annoyance radiating from the man’s body. The two had been going at it for hours. His back was facing them, gathering things for the journey that awaited him, still refusing to acknowledge (Y/N)’s concerns. 

“My love…please.” They can hear their voice practically pleading. “Nightmares…they flourish in the waking world! But dreams…” Their voice trails off. Slowly, (Y/N) takes a few steps forward. “I just…I don’t want anything to happen to you…” Gently, their hand reaches out, interlocking their fingers. He lets out a sigh, turning to face his beloved. 

“Darling…” Morpheus's voice rings out, placing his other hand against their cheek. (Y/N) leans into his touch. “Do you really think so little of me that I can’t seem to handle a mere Nightmare?” His annoyance seems to radiate away, the tiniest of smirks appearing on his pale features. (Y/N) rolls their eyes.

Cocky bastard.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” They mumble. “I just…I wish you would let me come with you. I…I hate when you go where I can’t follow…” (Y/N) knew arguing with him was futile at this point, resigning to their fate of staying behind in the Dreaming. Another sigh escapes the man’s lips, as he lowers his head down, gently pressing their foreheads together.

“I promise, I will not be long.” (Y/N) frowns. They had a nagging feeling in their stomach, trying to convince them that that would not be true this time around. However, they do their best to try and swat that feeling away. This was their husband, after all, Morpheus, Dream of the Endless. A powerful being older than the gods themselves. Why should they be worried? Morpheus begins to pull away. “I must go.” He whispers.

He makes his way towards his thrown, grabbing his helm from the seat. “Lucienne, please keep an eye on (Y/N) while I’m gone.” The smaller woman bows.

“Of course, my lord.” He turns to the two for one last time, placing the helm atop his head. Grabbing his pouch of endless sand, he dumps it onto his hand, the minuscule gravel begins to swirl around him

“Safe travels, my love…” (Y/N) murmurs out. Though the helm covers his face, they could feel his eyes stare straight into theirs. “And make sure you hurry back! It’s not polite to keep your spouse waiting.” They tease. (Y/N) could feel his laugh rumble deep within their chest.

“Wait long, you shall not, my darling.” And with that, his body vanishes, off somewhere in the waking world. Lucienne places a gentle hand on their shoulder.

“He’ll be back soon.” She tries to convince. (Y/N) just lets out a sigh.

“I can only hope…”

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #the sandman imagine #dream x reader #morpheus x reader