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#Johanna Constantine
pinkponyclubb · 2 years
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so... in an attempt to make my best friend watch the sandman, i created this powerpoint
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in conclusion... please watch it
links to the memes i used in the presentation:
Anthropomorphic Personification
Everyone vs. Dream
Mr. Brightside
Comfort Character
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imironstark · 2 years
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Morpheus: I am the King of Dreams and Nightmares. Everyone: And what about it?
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damn netflix’s sandman killed it on the gay rep, there’s really something for everyone! they got
annoying gay
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mean bisexual
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overdramatic nb
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Slutty gay
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2000’s emo queer
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emys-123 · 2 years
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Netflix Morpheus has sexual tension with almost everyone he meets. It's hilarious.
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dailydreamling · 3 months
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The Sandman + textposts
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cocoeys · 2 years
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ep 3:
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alexxuun · 1 year
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Endless chemistries…yet…
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academicblorbo · 4 months
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Welcome to the Sandman fandom
We have:
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(click on pics for better quality)
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sal-ki · 5 months
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Jenna Coleman as Johanna Constantine in The Sandman (2022–)
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raggedy-spaceman · 2 years
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I’m not going to accept any criticism
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watercubebee · 1 year
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Before the "BTW I love you"
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cuubism · 5 months
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a very silly story for you. johanna, dreamling's weird baby, and an accidental kidnapping (and subsequent rescue)
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Johanna’s seen a lot of weird shit in her time. It comes with the territory. Magical shit also tends to be horrible shit which also tends to be weird shit. But even she is finding herself flummoxed by this one.
She’d broken into this flat prepared to perform an exorcism. Amateur occultist, planning to summon a demon? That’s what she’d heard, and yeah, that wasn’t going to go well. And it hadn’t—the guy was on fire when she arrived, so on fire that there was no way she could put it out or help him, though she had throne a blanket over him in a meager attempt. It was too late, though. He was charcoal in seconds.
That, while horrible, wasn’t even the weird part. The weird part was that there wasn’t even a demon, but there was a baby.
Sitting in the middle of the room, in a bird cage.
Johanna stares at it now, barely noticing the acrid smoke she’s still breathing in. Why the actual fuck is there a baby in a birdcage?
It doesn’t seem to be hurt at all. It’s just sitting there on a blanket at the bottom of the cage, clutching a little cat stuffed toy in its chubby fingers. But it’s in a birdcage. A bird cage.
Johanna goes to open the cage, of course she does—
And the moment she touches the latch she jumps back, shaking out her hand from the spark. Holy hell, that thing is warded to high heaven. That cage could probably keep a demon contained. Why is a baby warded like that? It’s just a human—
It.
It looks like a human baby.
Johanna circles the cage, more wary now. She should know better, should know that an occultist like that wouldn’t be carrying around a regular baby in a cage. Even if you’re a real sicko, you don’t need a cage to keep hold of a baby. It can’t even walk.
So it’s not a regular baby. Sure looks like one, though. Makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up, that does.
As Johanna looks more closely at the wards, the baby watches her with wide eyes, sucking on its thumb. It’s actually pretty cute. It’s even wearing a star-print onesie. The wards are hardcore, though. Nothing’s getting in, and certainly nothing is getting out.
“Either you’re some fucked up thing disguised as a baby,” she muses out loud, “or you’re an actual little baby fucked up thing, which means your fucked up nightmare mummy is going to come looking for you.”
The baby blurbles in agreement.
Either way, she can’t exactly take it to the authorities. Which means she’s going to have to take the baby home, at least for now.
“Fuck me,” Johanna says, and picks up the cage.
--
The baby is silent on the drive home—buckled awkwardly into the back seat of the car—and remains so as Johanna puts the cage down on the floor of her living room. It watches her with big eyes, sucking its thumb. It doesn’t seem particularly afraid, though Johanna can’t imagine being in a cage is very pleasant, even for a baby that probably doesn’t understand what’s going on anyway.
Or who knows, maybe it does. Jo doesn’t really know much about babies’ development trajectories.
“Right,” she says, looking at it with hands on her hips. “I’m not really looking to become a mum, so we’ll have to get you out of there and back where you belong. Fuck if I know where that is.”
The baby makes a gurgling sound that could be agreement or just gassiness.
Johanna gets out some chalk and starts to draw a containment array around the cage. “Sorry about this, little chap,” she says, “but I still don’t know what you are. Better safe than sorry, eh?”
The baby is silent, watching her.
Johanna finishes the containment circle, binding it off with a final rune. It’s not so mean of a ward as the cage had. Just enough to keep the baby from exploding with power once she does break the cage open. If that’s something it can even do.
She studies the ward. “Think I can pick this lock,” she says to herself. “Take me a sec, though. Don’t suppose you want a beer while you wait?” This to the baby. “I haven’t got any formula. Or are you old enough for baby food?”
The baby just sucks on its thumb. It really does seem quite sweet. Shame about secretly being a monstrosity in a cage, and all.
Johanna works on the ward, occasionally chatting out loud to the baby. It doesn’t reply, obviously, but it listens. Johanna is feeling more invested in getting it back to its parents the longer she sits with it. Even if it is some gross creature, it doesn’t deserve to be in a birdcage. It’s just a baby.
“Good trick we met each other, my friend,” she says as she finally unravels the last bit of the warding. “Doubt that guy had good plans for his captured baby.”
She clicks open the ward.
As soon as she does, the formerly placid baby starts screaming. And Johanna realizes that part of the ward’s function had been to stop it from crying for help.
“Mama!” the baby wails, tears pooling in its eyes, little fists scrunched tight around its plushy’s legs. “MammaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!”
Its voice warbles outside the normal sound range and straight into her brain, ringing like a bell. She covers her ears, but it doesn’t help. Great, now the thing’s mother is going to show up and eat her. This is what she gets for trying not to be a total asshole for once. Should’ve opened the cage in the street and fled.
“Shhhhhh,” she tries to soothe the baby, “it’s okay—” But it’s too late. And Johanna isn’t a very soothing person anyway. It probably wouldn’t have worked, even if the room hadn’t been plunged into sudden darkness.
Johanna stumbles back, though she can see nothing. Thunder and static ripple through the air, cold wind tangles her hair. Jo claps her hands over her ears as the air pressure increases and increases and—
The baby squeals, and it sounds happy now, rather than afraid. “Mama!!”
A voice scraped from the utter depths of mental torment booms through her flat.
C  O  N  S  T  A  N  T  I  N  E
Ah, fuck.
“Morpheus,” she tries, because she does recognize that voice, unfortunately, “listen—”
A wall of sand knocks her backwards.
As it does, some light returns to the flat, and she can see Morpheus, looking markedly less pathetic than when she’d last encountered him, standing in the center of the living room, looking down at the baby. His eyes flash with otherworldly light. His sand rushes around him, scrapes through the binding circle she’d drawn like it’s nothing but chalk, dissolves the birdcage to nothing, plays with the baby’s curls and pools in the crevices of its onesie. Meanwhile, it flattens Johanna against the wall, wraps in winding strands of wind around her chest and squeezes.
The baby reaches for Morpheus, who kneels and picks it up. He says something to the baby, the words low and solemn but inaudible over the rushing sand, then holds it close to his chest.
Then his gaze turns to Johanna.He looks murderous. Johanna had thought he’d been pissed off about his sand. She hadn’t seen even a tenth of it.
“I guess you’re mama?” she says, past the sand squeezing around her chest. This really is just the kind of stupid thing that would happen to her.
Morpheus’s eyes are like black holes in his pale face. “Constantine,” he growls, with much of the same danger as before, though at lower volume. “I thought we had parted on neutral terms. More fool I. What grudge do you still hold against me?” The sand squeezes her tighter. “Speak quickly, for your time is limited.”
“There’s no grudge, I have nothing to—”
“Ransom, then?” says Morpheus, seeming, if possible, more angry. “You would compel favors from me by threatening a child?” He clutches the baby to his chest. It’s started chewing on the lapel of his coat. The whole picture would be kind of hilariously adorable if she weren’t on the verge of being torn apart by nightmares.
“I’m not responsible for this!” Johanna insists. “Consult your stalker encyclopedia of all minds if you have to. You really think I’m going around kidnapping infants?”
“I think,” says Morpheus, each syllable a new threat, “that you must explain why you had my daughter in a cage. NOW. And count yourself fortunate I have granted you the mercy of an explanation.”
“I literally just found her!” Johanna says. Doesn’t she deserve even a little bit of good faith? She did help with the sand and all. Morpheus’s eyes narrow as if he does not believe her. “Look. Caught wind of this amateur guy messing around with occult stuff. Thought he’d summoned a demon so I went to exorcise it. Found this baby instead.”
“And what of this man?” says Morpheus in a tone that suggests exactly what will soon become of him.
“He was practically dead by the time I got there. Burned alive.” She shudders. She still hasn’t figured out exactly what was going on there, if he’d meant to summon Morpheus’s baby in the first place—ill-advised choice, that—or if it was a spell gone wrong. “‘Fraid you’re too late to torment him.”
“Hmm,” rumbles Morpheus, with evident displeasure, but the sand finally releases Johanna and she sways, standing on her own feet again. Morpheus doesn’t apologize for throwing her against the wall. “You will show me where you found her.”
“Sure, mate,” Johanna says, sucking in a wheezing breath. “Might want to get your baby home first, though.”
Morpheus doesn’t get a chance to respond. Behind Johanna, the front door bursts open— bursts off its fucking hinges, goddammit, now she’ll have to get that fixed— and a man runs through. A very ordinary man, except that he’s carrying a sword. An actual, medieval-looking sword. And in a way that suggests he knows how to use it, too.
He looks almost as murderous as Morpheus, except that no one can quite match Morpheus’s shadows-and-cataclysm level of murder. Evidently, Johanna found the most radioactive baby in all the occult world. But at least it has people that care about it. That’s nice, she supposes.
As soon as he sees Morpheus with the baby across the room, he relaxes, sheathing the sword in a scabbard strapped to his back. “Ah, love. You found her.”
“Dadaaaaaa!!!!” yells the baby with its piercing voice, reaching for him. And the man smiles, striding past Johanna and taking the baby from Morpheus, leaning in to kiss Morpheus on the cheek as he does.
“Hob,” says Morpheus, with a little smile that finally breaks his stormy countenance. “Yes. She called for me when she was able.”
“Good lass,” says Hob, kissing the baby on the forehead, then looks warily at Johanna.
“Ms. Constantine is not responsible,” says Morpheus, and ‘Hob’—his partner? Coparent? Johanna’s not sure she even wants to know—relaxes further.
“Great. Glad we’ve established that. How the hell did you find my flat.” This she demands of Hob.
Hob reaches into the back of the baby’s onesie and plucks a small disc off the collar; he shows it to her with a little wave, then slips it in his pocket.
“Is that an AirTag?”
“We aren’t all plugged into the whole collective unconscious.” He taps the baby on the nose fondly, and she giggles, grabbing at his finger. “And you’re Dada’s little flight risk, aren’t you?”
Johanna sighs, finally flopping down on the couch now that it seems she’s unlikely to get swept away to nightmare-land. She definitely needs a beer after this. “You have a baby?” she says to Morpheus.
“Evidently,” he says flatly. So much for getting answers on that.
“Have we gone after the person who was responsible?” asks Hob. Johanna thinks he means it to come out mildly but it doesn’t, really.
“Already got set on fire, mate,” Jo tells him. “Found him like that.”
“Set on fire?” says Hob with a frown. “Was the rest of the room on fire?”
As a matter of fact, it wasn’t. Which is strange.
Silently, she shakes her head, and Hob turns back to the baby. Now he’s grinning. “Did the bad man wish for power?” he says, in a baby-talk voice, bouncing the baby in his arms. “Did he? And did my little Sparkle take that literally and turn him into a lightbulb?” As a conspiratorial aside to Johanna, he says, “She loves electricity.”
“Sparkle?” she says. “She’s a baby, not a My Little Pony.”
“That is a nickname,” says Morpheus, with a sideways glance at Hob that suggests he finds it questionable at best. “She is Wish.” He says this in the same way he might say I am Dream, rather than my name is Dream.
A moment later, Johanna learns where the nickname came from, as Wish giggles and taps at Hob’s face, sparks dancing around her fingertips. Sparkle. Jesus.
“She does not yet have a firm grasp on her abilities,” says Morpheus.
Wish. Half-Endless baby. Kidnapper set on fire. Jo thinks she gets it now. She shivers.
“You have sworn to show me where you found her,” Morpheus reminds her. Sworn. Does he have to be so dramatic?
Jo sighs, but heaves herself up from the couch. “Yep. Alright. So long as you promise to keep better track of that monkey’s paw baby of yours.”
Morpheus bristles, but Hob just chuckles. “This is the easy part. Wait ’til she gets better at flying.”
He doesn’t appear to be joking. “Don’t envy you,” Johanna says. Then grudgingly admits, “She is cute, though.”
Hob beams.
Morpheus is still fixated on her. Johanna can read the demand without him having to voice it. “What, you’re gonna bring the baby along on the revenge mission?” she asks.
They both just look at her. Neither moves to take Wish home.
“Figures,” Johanna says, with a sigh. This is what she gets for not choosing a more normal profession. She opens the front door and gestures them on. “Fine, then. Let’s go.”
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She’s so committed to her mission, doing all the research and bringing backups and so on while these two just want to complain about the bad caricature.
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karalynlovescake · 1 year
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Hob jolted awake to the ringing of his phone. He looked at the time as he grabbed it. 3:08am. It was Constantine.
"What?" He managed to get out.
"Hob," Johanna said "Tell me something really fucked up that will make me feel better about my life choices."
Hob thought for long minutes. She'd woken him up at 3am after all.
"Dream said once that if we ever get married, he's basically required to invite Lucifer Morningstar out of social courtesy."
Constantine made a strangled noise.
"Fantastic. Thanks, mate."
"Any time," Hob yawned. "Any time that isn't 3am."
"This is me not RSVPing in advance though, just so you know."
Hob hung up on her.
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mysunangel · 2 years
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Johanna Constantine: It wasn't the devil he had locked up, was it?
Dream:
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ikethetimidbean · 10 months
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The Sandman 
 This thread of illustrations are dedicated to Neil Gaiman and to everyone, who has created a beautiful, terrifying yet intimate world with so much passion and love. I’m not good with words, so I hope this will convey how much I am thankful to you all. 
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