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snaileer · 5 months

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Wrong Number? Wrong Answer.

It was the usual deal that the Justice League Dark dealt with… way too often honestly.

Initially, it had been just Wonder Woman, investigating a cult that had attempted to abduct her earlier in the month.

Diana had defeated them. Easily. Of course. But upon questioning them, their reasoning had concerned her.

They had attacked her for a ritual to open the ‘Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep’, a ritual which required ‘a blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

Once again, she was being targeted for her parentage. Did it ever end?

Of course, she questioned them further, what other ingredients did they need, what artifacts they would be hurting others to create.

A ring carved from the bone of an unfreed slave.

A crown made of lava untouched by human hands.

And sand directly from the pouch of Dream of the Endless themself.

It was an eclectic collection of items.

And yet, they had told her that only the blade remained to be created.

Again, it was concerning.

So Diana left the fools to be taken care of by men’s authorities, and focused on tracking down just what they were doing and if necessary, how to stop it.

After depleting her academic resources, and her connections within with nothing to show, Diana finally called in her friend through the league, Zatanna.

Zatanna had been frazzled by it, showing up in her living room before they’d even finished the call.

Together they tracked down the cult to Gotham… which was also a problem.

It was the reason why Diana was running through the caves beneath the crime ridden city with one of her closest friends in men’s world and a magician by her side.

All too quickly, they were surrounded by fanatics, each carrying sharp blades solely focused on her.

Working in sync with Batman and Zatanna throwing spells above them, Diana believed it would be a well-won battle.

Until a golden light flashed across the cave, blinding her for a precious second as she felt a sharp sting cut across her arm.

When her vision cleared, her arm was dripping blood and John Constantine stood in front of her.

“Sorry about that, love,” Constantine smirks, “No harm done?”

Diana’s teeth grind together as she turns away from him, fighting her way through more followers. The one who had injured her is nowhere to be seen, and the blade with them.

Even once the rest of the swarm is beaten, their numbers no longer being replenished, Diana does not feel content. The sense of danger lingers.

“Constantine.” Batman growls, “What are you doing in Gotham?”

The Brit rolls his eyes as he lights a new cigarette, “You know I don’t actually have to tell you every time I enter the city right? But besides, that’s news to me, portals are a tricky business, I’m tracking my own problem.”

Batman glares at him.

“Someone stole from me mate. And whatever they stole it for can’t be good, so I’m here ta get it back. Thought you’d be proud of something like that, Batsy, insteada leavin’ it for someone else?”

Batman’s eyes darken, “We’re tracking a group trying to open the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep, is your artifact related to that?”

“Fucking shit it is yeah! Bollocks I didn’t think they’d be using the dream sand for something like that, what sort of mannies are these?!” Constantine exclaims, hastily grinding his cigarette beneath his shoe.

“Hn.”

Suddenly, there’s a rattling boom, the ground and walls shaking around them as dust rains down and they are all forced into stabilizing stances.

They barely share a glance before all three are running down the hall to the source, Constantine left scrambling to keep up.

The scene they come to is equal parts confusing as it is problematic.

The cultists are each in states of disrepair, crusting on the edges or yelling at their leader. The leader is the first to notice their arrival.

“You! You say you are a child of Zeus and yet your blood does not work! You lie of your ancestry!”

Diana steps forward, “I do not! I am the daughter of Queen Hippolyta and Zeus, grandchild of Kronos! The fault of your magic does not lie with me!”

The leaders face twists, mouth open to shout, but a flash of gold slams into him.

“Z, the book!” Constantine yells, arms outstretched as he flings more spells at the surrounding people, glowing ropes binding each.

“On it! Etativel em dna eht koob!” Zatanna shouts, lifting into the air as a book the leader had been holding flies into her hands.

Immediately she begins turning pages with desperation, “Wohs em eht stsitluc lleps!”

The book flips to a distinct page, and Zatanna’s face drains of color.

“Batman, we need to be careful, this spell looks legitimate, we might still have a risk on our hands.”

Batman hummed, looking at the chalk lines of the summoning circle drawn out before them, drawing Diana to do the same. Looking closely at the artifacts placed at each cardinal direction, including a short dagger with her blood nearly completely dry on the flat of the blade.

Batman moves towards the gathered and bound cultists as both magicians whisper over the spell.

Diana continues to look out on the evidence of the ritual, confusion warring in her.

She lays a hand on the lasso at her side. She knew she had not been lying about her heritage, so then why….

‘A blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

She looks at the bloodied dagger once more. It didn’t make sense, even if they had managed to harm a godly descendent, pure ichor would be gold; and even her blood was simply a humanly deep crimson red, not black; not until it-

Diana lunges towards the knife, fingertips brushing its hilt just as her blood dries a flaky black.

Her body slams into the cave walls in the next second, percussive force rippling through the air.

She crumples to the ground, struggling to lift her head.

White boots pass in front of her eyes.

She watches as they move towards her colleague, her friend, only to be surprised as they stop in front of the cultists instead.

As the air returns to her body, Diana lifts herself up, shaking arms supporting her as the weight of the atmosphere presses down.

She looks at the being, the sight almost making her collapse once more.

Mist curls around its form like a mountain peak, iridescent light glowing near its head, pitch black night covering its body, the pinprick of stars so small you can’t see them straight on, claws like a falcon’s beak: unhidden and meant to tear apart. And more importantly, wrapped around the leaders neck.

““̵̨̮̣̀͊̓Y̷͖̊̒o̸̤͈͍͌̈́͘u̶̗̭̲̍ ̵̬̤̞̀̑ā̴̟r̸̹̝̉e̴̞̦̮͑̍ ̴̣̩̖͑̓͛a̷̮̞͍͊͆͝ ̶͍̀̈́́f̷̖̄ò̸͈̓͝ǫ̷̅̀̔l̶̹̥̹̋͌͠.̴̤̲̈́͋̀”̶̛̫̺̈́”

The voice rattles her heart within her chest. She watches as Batman continues to try and stand.

The cultist struggles against the hand, mumbling screams behind Constantine’s bind. The creature tears it off with one claw.

“We summ-moned-… the king! Pa-pariah-!“

The creatures hand barely twitches, but the cultist breaks off in a scream. She is surprised to note the other cultists react exactly alike. As if linked.

“̵̻͝Ý̷͚o̶͈͝u̷̦̐ ̶̆͜d̶͈̄ǐ̸̢d̵̲̓ ̴͖̽n̴̘̅ȯ̸͍t̵̛̯ ̴̫̐ŝ̵̗u̴̹̇m̶̨͠m̴̡̽o̴̱̐n̵̘͝ ̴̪̈h̴̨̀i̶͝ͅm̸̰͗.̴͍͆”̸͔̔ The creature growls, “À̴̳n̸̛̜d̶͒ͅ ̴̤̃y̸̬͝ǫ̸̒u̵̫͗ ̶̘͛a̴̫̐r̷̠̈e̶͂ͅ ̶͔̋ḽ̶̔ủ̷͜c̷̥̍k̴̲͊ÿ̸̯́ ̶͓́f̷͇͝o̷͎͒ŕ̴͇ ̶͔͝t̶̞̀h̸̲̉ȧ̸̮t̷͝��.̷͔̍ ̵͙͐I̸͎͌f̶͖͛ ̶̜̇y̵̜͗o̴̩̍ṵ̶͆ ̵̫̈́h̴͛ͅā̴̼d̸̤͆…̵͍̈́i̵͍̐t̸̡̉ ̴̭͂w̷̥̔o̷̟̅u̴̪͂l̸̞̏d̵͚̀ ̵͓̃b̴̢̽e̵̗͠ ̸͕̉m̸̠͆u̶̖͘c̷̯͘h̴̤̎ ̸̥́w̷͚͝o̸͐ͅr̶̦͐s̵̨̿e̸͕͆ ̸̙̑f̴̧̂o̶̱̓ȓ̷̟ ̴̠͗ÿ̸̥́ö̵͜ŭ̶̟.̵͎̉”̶͍̀

The man whimpers under the claws.

"I̴n̷s̵t̴e̷a̵d̸,̶ ̵y̸o̷u̵ ̴g̵o̷t̶ ̷m̸e̸,̴I̴ ̶g̵u̸a̷r̶d̴ ̶h̶i̷s̵ ̶p̸r̸i̵s̵o̵n̶ ̶b̶e̷c̴a̷u̴s̶e̸ ̵I w̴a̸s̴ ̵t̴h̸e̷ ̸o̴n̸e̴ ̷t̸o̶ ̶p̵u̴t̵ ̴h̸i̴m̶ ̵t̴h̷e̸r̶e̴ ̵o̶n̵c̸e̵ ̶m̶o̸r̸e̸.̵”̴ The creature leans into the cultist, arching ever higher, angles sharpening, body distorting, "“̸̝͋a̵̱͋n̶͓͛d̵̘́ ̵̡̍f̷̱͊o̵͚̓r̷̪̎ ̴̭̑a̷̬̓s̷͙̅ ̷͍͌ĺ̵̫o̸̻͆ņ̵̀g̶̚ͅ ̷̬͌a̶̮̿s̵̩͊ ̸̫̌t̸̲̕h̸̢̉e̷̖͗ ̴̰̋c̸̹̀ȍ̸͎s̷̡̃m̵̥̍o̷̜͋s̷̗͐ ̴̜͆e̷̛̙x̸͓̑i̶͉̿s̸̹̀t̵̛̺,̴̡͠Í̷̢ ̷̣̽w̵̠͋i̶̺͒l̴̠͐l̸̮̃ ̴͍͌k̴̰̑e̸̠͐e̷̟͋p̵̲̏ ̸̙̂h̷̘͋ị̸́m̸͕̚ ̶̳̋t̶̡̒h̷̩͆e̷̪͝r̷̒͜e̵̡̔.̵̭͗”̵̮̔

There’s a dull flash as light flashes beneath the cultists skin, beneath all of the cultist’s skin, before they drop to the ground unconscious.

All too quickly, air returns to the room, pressure lifting like a deep breath into the room.

The creature turns, eyes meeting Diana’s for just a second as he turns towards the chalked lines of the circle. Diana lifts herself to her feet, drawing closer to Batman as they both watch him, hesitant.

On the other side of the room, Constantine and Zatanna also struggle to their feet, eyes filled with fear and caution as they take in the scene.

As the creature moves, mist still rolling off him in waves, his features fall away with it, gradually smoothing to a more human visage. It looks… young. Boyish.

Those same white boots crush down on the formed crown, the cooled lava rock crumbling under one step. Next is the ring, held carefully in two hands the creature whispers over it, breathy wind carrying it away as it turns to dust. He holds the blade with one hand, flakes disintegrating off as he lifts it.

Diana’s arm tingles.

Then the creature is standing in front of the last point, holding the small brown pouch of sand with consideration.

Silence reigns in the room.

Constantine, of course, is the one to break it.

“I believe that’s mine, mate,” he cuts in, stance still laden with suspicion.

“Oh?” The creature smiles, almost mockingly as he turns to Constantine, “Is it? If I wasn’t mistaken, this ritual calls for Dream’s sand. Are you Dream of the Endless, little magician?”

Constantine visibly swallows, “I’m not.”

The creature huffs a laugh, fangs glinting in his smirk. He moves swiftly, pivoting on one foot to toss the pouch at Constantine, “Catch.”

Constantine lurches forward to try and catch it, only to find it vanish in the air before it reaches his fingers.

The creature cackles, floating backwards, “What did you do to get your hands on such an amount of Dream’s sand, magician? I’m curious.”

“It was a family present,” Constantine grinds out as he turns back to the gently levitating humanoid form, “You can drop the kid facade by the way, you’re not tricking anyone here looking like that.”

The creature shrugs, “And if I’m comfortable like this?”

Diana steps in to stop Constantine from snapping back, “Who are you, spirit, to be summoned by such a ritual?”

The creature watches her for a beat, “I am Phantom of the Dead City, Protector of infinite realms. They did not bring me here, but I knew who they wished to summon and came because of it.”

Batman steps forward, voice interrogating, “The Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep-“

“Remains sealed. The Tyrant King remains trapped and at rest, do not worry.”

Somehow Diana does not think that soothes Batman, even as a great a warrior as he is.

“Hn.”

“Now, about that spell book,” Phantom turns to Zatanna, waving a hand and the book flies to him. He hovers a hand over it, and Diana watches in fascination as the chalk on the floor begins to burn away, the drawing in the book following.

Phantom looks at her once more, eyes too wise and strong for the age of his face, and then from one moment to the next, he is gone.

The book drops to the floor with a slam, cover open to aged blank pages as the last of the sigil burns away.

Hesitantly, Constantine goes to it, the rest of them following. When Constantine lifts the book with careful hands, they watch another image fade into view on the paper.

A cool colored image of Phantom rising over a city skyline outlined in green against a deep violet sky. Even on paper, his visage shifts constantly between the boyish figure and the ethereal danger of the form he’d appeared in.

Beneath the city lays a large coffin covered in chains.

The lock glows a pulsing toxic green before fading to a steely gunmetal grey and going still.

“Well that was the best encounter I’ve had with a dangerous dimensional figure and I still lost the dream sand.”

Zatanna’s slap echoes in the cave.

#batman #danny phantom #batfam #dc #danny fenton #batman and robin #danny phantom crossover #young justice #bruce wayne #wonder woman #dpxdc #cryptid Danny fenton #John Constantine #Zatanna Zatara #dpdc #dp

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letoasai · 1 year

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dp x dc 2

A what if...

If Danny was originally a ghost child, born from one of the seven ancients that sealed Pariah Dark. In an unfortunate accident, he was caught by the Fentons and experimented on. In a twist of strange fate, he was turned human, and basically given life. Because he was no longer a ghost, they decided to adopt him.

Danny had no memory of his earliest years, or the experiments done on him but Jazz does and she quietly took better care of her brother than their parents did of either of them. At fourteen, he still dies and becomes a half ghost, partially because of his heritage kicking in. He still defeats Pariah Dark and becomes the Ghost King and the only one that knows his original identity is Clockwork who didn’t figure it out himself until Danny became a halfa. His human self being untraceable for them.

Danny is sixteen when he tells his parents about himself, oddly enough against Jazz’s advice. They didn't take it well and were ready to put him back on the table to experiment on him a second time to ‘fix him’ again.

It was Jazz that ended up sabotaging everything and grabbing her brother to run. She’d been packed and ready to go, expecting Jack and Maddie’s overreaction. Jazz finally tells him about the hazy memories she can recall about his arrival. Being only two years older than him, she was just a child but she remembered enough on top of their neglected childhood to decide to bail with him.

Clockwork was the one to give them their destination. Head to Gotham, where Danny could meet his mother, Lady Gotham, who is eagerly awaiting and preparing for his arrival. ~ ~ Batman did not like being summoned for meetings, he especially didn’t like being summoned for a meeting in his own batcave. That was his own space being infringed upon and he didn’t like it one bit. Meetings were for mutual areas unless it was called by one of his own children. Even then, those meetings were usually at the dinner table.

Constantine contacting him to have an ‘urgent chat’ was the last thing he wanted. Constantine usually avoided work when he could, and anything he would bring to the table meant trouble was on its way.

He’d had enough apocalyptic chaos for one month. It was only worse that Constantine insisted they meet tonight instead of the League meeting at the end of the week. Things that couldn’t wait meant more work for him.

Batman’s eyes narrowed at the sound of footsteps moving through the west side of the batcave. Even knowing it was coming, he was unhappy knowing that Constantine used the private door that only a few knew about to get inside.

“You’re early. That’s unheard of.” Batman commented, smelling the smoke of the man’s cigarette before even turning around. “Put that out.”

“Don’t think i will.” Constantine said, a hint of stress in his voice. “I dunno what you did but i don’t appreciate being dragged into it.”

“What i did?” Batman frowned, turning away from his computer to stand. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re the one that wanted to talk.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Constantine said, inhaling. His free hand held another cigarette that he likely planned to light when the first was gone. “Someone wants to speak to you. You’re going to speak to them.”

“Tch.” Batman crossed his arms. It wasn’t a wonder to him why his children were so stubborn. He could see himself in many of their habits. “Am i?”

Constantine shrugged. “Yeah, i think you are. They’re your bloody benefactor so i really don’t think you got a choice. I’m just a middle man.”

“Benefactor?” Batman scowled, a list of possible names running through his mind but nothing held. Something that required Constantine’s presence was even more baffling. “What are you talking about?”

The atmosphere in the cave suddenly changed. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but given the way Constantine tensed, they both felt it. It was like a wave of something spread out through the room, brushing against both of them and moving out to fill the rest of the corner.

“John, who did you invite here?”

“Oh, i don’t think i could do something like that. Way above my pay grade.” Constantine muttered, turning to face the same direction he’d just come from. There was no noise, no footsteps, nothing to indicate an intruder other than the feeling filling every inch of the batcave. “May i present to you, the spirit of Gotham herself. Lady Gotham.”

For a long few seconds nothing happened. It wasn’t an overly timely introduction but a woman did appear. She moved fluidly, silently, disappearing and reappearing between every step. She looked to be made of stone, everything from the visible skin of her legs and bare feet, to her cloak. She could have been a fixture somewhere in the city, a beautiful gargoyle but she moved with complete ease.

The hood of her cloak was drawn low, a veil covering her face. Even making her way through the moderately lit cave, she was nearly shrouded in shadows still. The most visible feature she had were bright, toxic green eyes that almost seemed to swirl.

Sharp horns protruded through her hood that wrapped behind her head and at her elbows were a small set of stone wings that must have been useless but she gave no indication one way or the other. Not even when they seemed to flutter.

“Lady Gotham?” Batman blinked, trying to absorb what he was seeing. To commit everything to memory. Her appearance should have given away so much but instead he got nothing.

“Yes. She is who this city was named for. She is this city’s soul. Powerful, old, and the beginning of… well a lot.” Constantine muttered. “She apparently likes your ragtag team of bats and birds too.”

“Protectors…” She spoke, her voice was like a whisper, but there was an edge to it that made it seem like her speaking at a normal volume would be a very bad thing. “Protectors are always welcome here.”

Batman stared and didn’t know right off what he was supposed to say. He didn’t feel like he was in danger, but he had no idea what a supposed spirit would want with him. He’d been playing his role as batman for years without a trace of this Lady Gotham before.

Constantine cleared his throat. “Well since that introduction was made, i’ll see myself ou-”

“Stay.” she said, stopping only a few few away from them. She still blinked in and out of existence. Sometimes pieces of her would be visible while the rest of her faded in and out.

“Yes…” Constantine reluctantly muttered.

Batman straightened. “Never heard of you.” Constantine nearly groaned. “But i can’t refute what’s right before me. What can i help you with?”

She tilted her head, and the motion should have been impossible if she were actually made of stone. He got the impression that she was amused despite not really being able to see her face.

“Protector. Knight. Hero. Father. You have assumed so many mantles.” Gotham spoke softly. “There is only so much i can do, i do interfere when i can.”

He nodded though he had no idea what she was talking about. He’d always pulled his own weight but if there was an otherworldly entity assisting him, would he know?

“I come to you, to ask for a favor. You, with the means to grant such a thing.”

“What sort of favor?”

“A halfa has been directed to my core with his human sister. They require living arrangements.” She spoke firmly. “I can offer them my love, my welcome, my embrace, even a taste of my power but monetary needs and documents are out of my hands.”

“A halfa?” Batman frowned, not understanding the phrase other than them not being human if their sister being human was clarified.

“Nooo…” Constantine stared, looking like he’d prefer it if the floor just opened up and swallowed him. “Not the halfa that defeated Pariah Dark...”

“The very same.” Gotham clasped her hands in front of her, form flickering again. She radiated pride.

“The halfa that defeated Pariah Dark and became the Ghost King?” Constantine obviously wanted to get the hell out of Gotham.

“The same.” She repeated.

“Ghost King?” Batman frowned. “Why is he coming here?”

She disappeared, reappearing several feet to her left. “He is in need of a home. He is only sixteen human years old.”

“He’s a child?!” Constantine looked horrified. “And he became the Ghost King!?”

“Yes.” She said, somewhat patient. “My son is welcome here, so you will welcome him.”

Constantine was lighting that second cigarette. “Son… I gotta...I gotta sit down.”

Batman however was trying to ignore what he couldn’t grasp at the moment, and focus on what he could. “Documentation and lodgings for two minors is well within my means to provide.” He glanced back at Constantine who was walking away to grab a chair. “You’ll explain the Ghost King thing later.”

Constantine just waved him off as he collapsed into a chair.

Lady Gotham had moved, now standing directly in front of Batman without having moved a muscle. “My son and his human sister know what it means to be hunted. My child’s core screams for help and receives so little.” She suddenly seemed to tower over batman in a way she didn’t before. “He will receive assistance here.”

Batman stood firm, but it would be a lie to say he was completely unaffected. Despite that trickle of fear in his chest, he’d always done his best to be there for his kids. It didn’t mean he was successful, but he tried. What was two more? “I understand. Whatever he’s running from will be handled. When will he arrive?”

Lady Gotham paused. “Soon. Travel is slow, but steady. Another day.”

Batman hummed, that was plenty of time to get everything set up temporarily. He would talk to the Ghost King and his sister to discuss more permanent plans. His attitude however, seemed to be just what Lady Gotham expected.

She turned to Constantine. “You will find him easiest. Bring them here.”

Constantine heaved a sigh and pulled out a flask from his jacket pocket. He didn’t barter, try to make some kind of deal, or attempt to gain some form of payment. Lady Gotham was a force of nature all on her own but there was no way he was pissing off the mother of the Ghost King. That was asking for trouble even if the kid was a king. His power must have been something else… “Got it.” he agreed.

She sighed, the sound content. “Thank you, Knight. My son will be in good hands.” Or Else, didn’t need to be spoken.

She turned, and just like that she was gone, her powerful aura along with her. In a flash it was like she’d never been there at all.

Batman took a moment to just breathe and regain his bearings before turning back to Constantine. “What did i just agree to?”

“Not much.” Constantine said dryly. “Just being the foster dad to the Ghost King. King of the Infinite Realm.”

Well… It wasn’t the first time he’d adopted a teenager. Batman just reaffirmed his plans for the rest of the day and turned to change back into his civilian attire and head back up into his mansion. He needed to talk to Alfred immediately.

“Better you than me…” Constantine grumbled. This was going to be pure chaos, but he also had to wonder…what it was that spooked the kid that defeated Pariah Dark? That was something to look into.

Neither man had noticed when Tim had walked in, having watched most of that interaction from a safe distance away. “What the absolute fuck was that....?”

~~ ~~

I would really kind of enjoy a 16 year old Danny meeting and bonding with a 19 year old Jason… Also… Constantine texting Bruce the very moment he lays eyes on Danny. Yep! This kid is totally Wayne material. He’ll mix in with the others seamlessly.

No plans to continue this at this point if someone else wants a turn.

~Edit- I apparently lied... Part 2

#dc x dp crossover #dp x dc #Danny and Jazz are running away from home #Halfa Danny #Danny's the son of an Ancient #That Ancient became Lady Gotham #Foster dad Batman #Batman is weirdly accepting of the spirit of his city in the Batcave #Constantine needs a drink #And a vacation #Ghost king Danny let loose in Gotham

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thesmollestsnek · 11 months

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Death echoes

So a while ago, i found this dp x dc post that had a really interesting lore headcanon for Danny’s ghostly wail. Idk if I’ll be able to find it again, I’ll link it here if I do, but essentially it posited that every ghost has something called a “death echo”, which is an ability unique to them based heavily on their deaths. These echoes are the most powerful move in a ghost’s moveset, but they’re also extremely volatile and draining, typically damaging the ghost in some way when used, with Danny’s being his Wail because he died screaming. The original post then went on to some really cool halfa!Jason ideas based on these death echoes, but for this lil snippet with an extremely long intro I’d like to focus on Danny a bit more.

Edit: Apparently I may have extrapolated a lot of the actual lore behind these death echos myself? The inspiration post was a lot longer in my memories. Or I might've mushed multiple posts into one mental box and then forgot lol. So a lot of the actual detail from this point on is seemingly mostly original material? I think? Idk man, sometimes my brain spits out information without giving me any clues as to where it got that information. Anyway, this post got kinda long and since I'm... decently sure this is where I shifted from summarizing @ailithnight's post to writing all my own thoughts I figured here would be a good place to throw the cut lol.

So! with all of the context-for-the-context out of the way, let’s move on to the actual context for what I’m writing cause I can’t be bothered with writing an intro XD

Essentially, this is an au where Danny is an established member of the Justice League, or maybe one of the teen hero teams? I’m a slut for eternal teenager Danny, but maybe he’s enough of a powerhouse to be on the main team despite him both looking and acting like the dumbass fourteen year old he died as. Either way, he’s on a League/League-sanctioned mission and things go bad. Like, everyone-almost-dies bad. And so as a final desperation attack, Danny uses his Wail, a power he’s never told anyone on the league he even has. And it works, and they make it out, but after the fact everyone has. Questions. And because in this au death echoes are deeply personal, Danny dodges those questions, but the league coughbatmancough isn’t satisfied with that. So they push for answers. Answers Danny’s not willing to give, because. In my mind death echoes aren’t just based on how a person died, but also their experience of that death. What their last thoughts were. When Danny died the only thing that he could process beyond just an all-encompassing painpainpainpainpain was the sound of someone screaming. His screaming. And so his death echo is the sound of a fourteen year old child screaming in deathly pain and terror weaponized, which definitely gave the league Even More Questions than they would’ve had already. Which finally brings us to the actual snippet, which is a conversation between John Constantine, who was brought in for his experience with the supernatural once it became clear Danny wasn’t going to talk, and Danny himself.

~~~~~~~

“So, kid. Batsy tells me you’ve been hiding some of your abilities, wanna tell me what's up with that? Call it an occultist's intuition, but somethin’ tells me you’re not just being stubborn for the hell of it.”

“It’s... complicated. And not anyone’s business, either!”

“Kid...”

“Why does it even matter?! It’s not something I want to or am even able to do on a regular basis! I saved the mission, can’t they just accept that and move on???”

Sighing, Constantine reached up to start massaging his brow. “Kid, you and I both know that ain’t gonna be enough. Now I know that some things are better left alone, but the rest of these idiots? They can’t accept that, Batsy especially. That man’s never left bloody well enough alone in his life”

He looked up just in time to see the otherworldly teen shrink into himself, looking every bit the child he was. “I know but... why? Why do they need to keep asking questions? And why do they only ask the ones that hurt to answer?”

A sharp glance. “The fuck kinda questions are they asking? Batman was speaking in more grunt than word, so I didn’t really catch all the details of what this power you’re supposedly hiding even is.”

Phantom shrinks even more into himself at that, and responds in a voice so small it’s more sigh than speech. “I... I can scream. And it breaks things and pushes people back. But it, it sounds. Bad. And it brings up bad memories and I don’t like to do it or listentoitoreventhinkaboutitandtheywon’tletmeforgetand-”

“Breathe kid. I know you don’t need to but just take a deep breath with me. Don’t you go getting lost in your own head on me now., Constantine reassured the kid automatically, the sheer hopelessness prompting action long before the words themselves could be understood. Then the rest of him caught up, and he had to pause. Looked up at the kid, saw just how distressed he was. A picture was starting to form in the back of his head, and Constantine didn’t like what he saw one bit. A last-resort power that the normally open Phantom was strangely reticent about. A scream so horrible sounding the rest of the league would not to stop asking questions about it. Terrible memories to match said scream. And one truly miserable child who couldn’t bear to even think about any of it.

“Phantom... is that your Echo? Screaming?”

A miserable nod is his only response, the tears that had been welling up in the kid’s eyes finally starting to fall. Cursing softly to himself, Constantine stood to leave, bracing himself for the Bat’s inevitable questioning. “Well then you just take all the time you need love, and leave the rest to me. I’ll make sure the rest of those idiots know not to ask you about this ever again.” And with that Constantine turned and strode towards the door, leaving the quietly sobbing child to collect himself in privacy.

~~~~~

I had a whole-ass lore dump conversation between Constantine and Batman planned here, explaining how death echoes are deeply personal, and asking about one is a taboo on par with, potentially even worse than, asking a ghost about their death outright. Because they are formed from an amalgamation of how a ghost died, their last thoughts, and their final emotions, in some ways asking a ghost about their Echo is like asking them to describe their death in painstaking detail. But uhhh... inspiration bug left. So yea. Side note, I’d like to apologize if my depiction of Constantine’s accent was Bad, I’m but a lowly USAmerican whose only exposure to British accents is through tv ^-^’

#did some minor edits to fix typos and make things flow better when i went back in to add the hyperlink #that being said dont expect too much i wrote this in a bit of an inspiration frenzy lol #and barely edited it after the fact #the snek rambles #the snek writes #snippit #dp x dc #danny phantom #john constantine #idk wtf else to tag this #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #crossover

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youryurigoddess · 6 months

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I was minding my own business and analyzing another part of the A. Z. Fell & Co. bookshop from the Radio Times footage when I noticed something interesting on Aziraphale’s desk. It looks like the angel was studying a handwritten copy of someone’s last will and testament and left in a hurry, with a bronze medal and a fountain pen on top of it. And… an attachment of a land registry plan, barely visible underneath.

Obviously that’s when my South Downs obsessed brain turned all of its alarms on and decided to read the whole thing. And look for the missing parts, since only a portion of the original document was visible on screen. Unfortunately the full text is much longer and less exciting than anticipated, and — spoiler alert — related to a different area of the country, but still relevant to the Good Omens universe. We’ll look into that in a moment.

Let’s start with the struck bronze medal — acting here as a paperweight, which makes the documents in question already stand out from the usual bumph and bric-a-brac accumulated by Aziraphale over an unknown period of time on his desk.

It’s a very interesting rendition of the mythological scene centered around Daedalus fastening the wings onto his son Icarus (little does he know that this attempt to escape imprisonment will lead to his son’s demise). Contrary to popular sentiment in the history of art, this particular version of Icarus isn’t depicted as a child or teenager, but as a warrior donning a helmet and preparing himself to battle. Which makes perfect sense after discovering that it was made for the Royal Air Force Athletic & Cross Country Association’s WAAF Athletic Championships in 1945. There’s some poetic irony in the fact that the medal was apparently given to the third place winner in a high jump category.

Apart from its obviously military style, this concept seems inspired by a 1885-86 medal by Auguste Patey commemorating the experimental flights at the first French wind tunnel at Chalais-Meudon, a town on the banks of the Seine near Paris. On 9 August 1884, engineers Charles Renard and Arthur Constantin Krebs made the first controllable free flight there when they piloted their airship, La France, over a course and returned to their starting point. From 9 August 1884 to 23 September 1885, La France made seven flights and was able to return to its starting point five times.

The last Will and Testament of Josiah Wedgwood

The last Will and Testament of me, Josiah Wedgwood, of Etruria, in the County of Stafford, made the second day of November, in the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and ninety-three, in manner and form following (that is to say): I give and bequeath unto my dear and affectionate Wife, Sarah Wedgwood, all that messuage or dwelling-house situate at or near Etruria aforesaid, with the buildings, gardens, and appurtenances thereto belonging, late in the holding of Mr. Thomas Wedgwood; and also all that field or piece of land in which the same stands, containing eight acres or thereabouts; and also all that close, piece, or parcel of land lying contiguous to the said dwelling-house, called the Horse Pasture, containing by estimation twelve acres or thereabouts; and also all that piece or parcel of land situate at Etruria aforesaid, heretofore purchased by me from Mr. Hugh Booth; To have and to hold the said messuage or dwelling-house, pieces or parcels of land, hereditaments and premises, with their and every of their appurtenances, unto my said Wife, Sarah Wedgwood and her assigns, for and during the term of her natural life. And from and after her decease, I give and devise all and singular the said messuage or dwelling-house, pieces or parcels of land, hereditaments, and premises, with their and every of their appurtenances, unto my Son, Josiah Wedgwood, his heirs and assigns for ever. Also I give and bequeath the sum of three thousand pounds unto my said Wife, to be paid to her within twelve months next after my decease. Also I give and bequeath unto my said Wife so much and such part of my household goods and furniture as is mentioned and specified in the Schedule or Paper Writing hereunto annexed, marked with the Letter A. Also I give and bequeath the sum of ten thousand pounds unto my Executors hereinafter named, upon trust that they, my said Executors, do and shall place the said sum of ten thousand pounds out upon some good and sufficient public or private security or securitys, at interest, to be approved of nevertheless by my said Wife, and do and shall pay to, or permit and suffer my said Wife to receive and take the interest, dividends, and produce of the said sum of Ten thousand pounds, as the same shall from time to time become due to and for her own use and benefit for and during the term of her natural life.

And from and after the decease of my said Wife, I direct that the said sum of ten thousand pounds shall be applied for and towards payment and satisfaction of the several legacys or sums of money hereinafter given by me. And I do hereby direct that the provision hereinbefore made or intended for my said Wife shall be in lieu, bar, and satisfaction of dower and thirds at Common Law. Also I give and devise unto my said Executors, for the use of my said son, Josiah Wedgwood, his heirs and assigns for ever, that part of Etruria Estate which I now occupy, upon the north side of the Turnpike Road leading from Newcastle to Leek, with the house I now live in, the outbuildings belonging to the same, with the pleasure grounds and all appurtenances thereto belonging, being about sixty-five acres; and also another part of the Etruria Estate, now in the occupation of Richard Hall, being about sixty-eight acres; And also another part of the Etruria Estate, now in the occupation of Thomas Ford, being about forty-five acres; and also the Estate late a part of the White House Estate, on the south side the Turnpike Road leading from Newcastle to Leek; and likewise the land purchased from Thomas Heath, with a small meadow on the north side the said Road, and lying in the Parish of Woolstanton; and likewise a meadow lately purchased from John Mare, of Handley, — all in the holding of Richard Billington, being altogether about eighty-one acres; and also a piece of land on the south side of the same Road, now in the holding of Daniel Haywood, being about two acres; and also an Estate bought from George Taylor, and now in the holding of Jonathan Adams, being about nine acres; and also a small piece of land adjoining the land bought from Hugh Booth, together with a part of the Hough Meadow, and now in the holding of John Ryder, being about four acres; and also an estate called the Spittels, situate in Penkhull, in the Parish of Stoke upon Trent, and lately purchased from James Godwin, containing sixty-three acres or thereabouts; and also an Estate adjoining to the Spittels on one side, and to Stoke Lane on the other, situate in Penkhull aforesaid, in the Parish of Stoke upon Trent, late in the holding of Humphrey Ratcliff, containing fifteen acres or thereabouts; and also a piece of land called the Woodhills, situate in the Parish of Stoke upon Trent, lately purchased from Ralph Baddeley, and now in my own occupation, being about eleven acres; and also all buildings, tenements, houses, farmhouses, outhouses, pot works, warehouses, workshops, and other buildings, of what kind soever they may be, situate, standing, and being upon any of the land or premises above named, and not hereinbefore devised; and also all my share of the models and molds of the Manufactory in Etruria aforesaid. Also I give and bequeath the sum of thirty thousand pounds unto my son John Wedgwood. Also I give and bequeath the sum of twenty-nine thousand one hundred and ten pounds, and likewise twenty shares in the Monmouthshire Canal, unto my Son Thomas Wedgwood.

Also I give and bequeath the sum of twenty-five thousand pounds unto my daughter Susannah Wedgwood; and which said several legacys or sums of thirty thousand pounds, and twenty-nine thousand one hundred and ten pounds, and twenty shares in the Monmouthshire Canal, and twenty-five thousand pounds, so given to my said Son John Wedgwood, and to my said Son Thomas Wedgwood, and to my said Daughter Susannah Wedgwood, I do hereby direct shall be paid to them as soon as conveniently may be after my decease, together with interest for the same in the mean time, after the rate of four pounds and ten shillings per centum per annum. Also I give and bequeath the sum of twenty-five thousand pounds unto my Daughter Catharine Wedgwood, to be paid to her as soon after her age of twenty-one years, or day of marriage, which shall first happen, as conveniently may be, with interest for the same in the mean time after the rate of four pounds and ten shillings per centum per annum. Also I give and bequeath the sum of twenty-five thousand pounds unto my Daughter Sarah Wedgwood, to be paid to her as soon after her age of twenty-one years, or day of marriage, which shall first happen, as conveniently may be, with interest for the same in the mean time after the rate of four pounds and ten shillings per centum per annum. Provided always, and I do hereby direct, that in case my said Daughters Catherine Wedgwood and Sarah Wedgwood, or either of them, shall happen to die unmarried before the age of twenty-one years, then that the legacy or legacys of her or them so dying shall sink into and become part of the residue of my personal Estate, and be applied and disposed of accordingly, as shall hereinafter be mentioned. Also I do hereby declare it to be my will that all the rest, residue, and remainder of my said stock in trade, goods, wares, implements, materials, and utensils of trade, and other matters and things used by me, in or belonging to my said Manufactory, except the models or molds therein used or kept, shall, at the time of my decease, sink into and become part of the residue of my personal estate, and be applied and disposed of accordingly. Also I give and bequeath all and singular my household goods and furniture not hereinbefore given to my said Wife, together with all my books, prints, books of prints, pictures, and cabinets of Experiments, of Fossils, and of Natural History, unto my said Son Josiah Wedgwood. And I do hereby commit the Guardianship and Tuition of such of my said children as shall not at the time of my decease have attained the age of twenty-one years unto my said Wife and my said Son John Wedgwood, until such children shall attain the said age. And I do direct that the fortunes or portions of such of my said children shall in the mean time be managed by my said Wife and my said Son John Wedgwood, and a competent part of the interest and produce thereof be applied for their maintenance and education, and the residue of such interest and produce be suffered to accumulate for their benefit and advantage in such manner as my said Wife and Son John Wedgwood shall in their discretion think most meet and proper.

Also I givo and bequeath one annuity or yearly sum of twenty pounds unto my Brother in Law, Philip Clark, for and during the term of his natural life. Also I give and bequeath one annuity or yearly sum of Twenty pounds unto my Niece, Sarah Taylor, for and during the term of her natural life. Also I give and bequeath one annuity or yearly sum of twenty pounds unto Mr. Alexander Chisholm, for and during the term of his natural life; recommending it to my Son Josiah Wedgwood to give him any further assistance that he may stand in need of, to make the remainder of his life easy and comfortable. And I do hereby direct that the said several and respective annuitys of twenty pounds, twenty pounds, and twenty pounds shall be paid and payable quarterly, at the four most usual feasts or days of payment in the year, (that is to say) on every twenty-fifth day of March, twenty-fourth day of June, twenty-ninth day of September, and twenty-fifth day of December, by even and equal portions, free and clear of and from all taxes, charges, and deductions whatsoever; the first payment thereof to begin and be made on such of the said days as shall first and next happen after my decease. Also I give and bequeath the sum of ten guineas unto the said Alexander Chisholm, as a testimony of my regard for him. Also I give and bequeath the sum of two hundred pounds apiece unto all and every the children of my Nephew Thomas Byerley, who shall be living at the time of my decease, to be paid to them at their respective ages of twenty-one years: Provided always, and in case any one or more of the said children shall happen to die without issue before he, she, or they shall attain the said age, then I direct that the legacy or legacys to him, her, or them so dying shall go and be paid unto and amongst the survivors or survivor of them equally, share and share alike, in case there shall be more than one, at such time and in such manner as is hereinbefore directed and expressed of and concerning the said original legacys or sums of two hundred pounds: Provided also, and in case all the said children shall happen to die without issue before they shall attain the said age, then I direct that all the said legacies or sums of Two hundred pounds so given to them as aforesaid shall sink into and become part of the residue of my personal estate, and be applied and disposed of accordingly. And I do hereby expressly direct and declare that no interest shall be allowed or paid upon the said respective legacys or sums of two hundred pounds in the mean time from my decease to the time that the same shall become payable by virtue of this my Will; such legacys or sums of two hundred pounds being given by me in lieu of legacys or sums of one hundred pounds, which it was originally my intention to have directed to be placed out at interest, and to have accumulated for such children of the said Thomas Byerley as aforesaid until they should attain the age of twenty-one years. Also I give and bequeath unto each of my Nephews Thomas and John Wedgwood, Sons of my late Nephew Thomas Wedgwood, of the Upper House in Burslem, the sum of two hundred pounds each, to be paid to them at their respective ages of twenty-one years: Provided always, and in case they shall either or both of them die before they arrive at the age of twenty-one years, I direct that the legacy or legacys of the party or parties so dying, of two hundred pounds so given to them as aforesaid, shall sink into and become part of the residue of my personal estate, and be applied and disposed of accordingly.

Also I give to my Servant George Jones the sum of twenty guineas, as a token of my remembrance of his faithful services to me. Also I give and bequeath to the several persons whose names shall be mentioned and comprised in the Schedule or List hereto annexed, signed with my name, and marked with the letter "B," the mourning Rings or other small legacys or sums of money which shall be therein specified and expressed. Also I give and bequeath unto James Caldwell, Esq., of Newcastle under Lyme, in the County of Stafford, the sum of one hundred pounds, which I desire he will accept as a testimony of my friendship and esteem for him. And I do hereby direct and appoint that my said Nephew Thomas Byerley shall, under the direction of my Executors, settle my accounts and manage and conduct the collection of my debts and other matters relating to the settlement of my concerns in business; and that a Salary of one hundred pounds per annum be allowed and paid to him for such particular service, so long as he shall be employed therein, over and above all charges and expenses attending the same. And it is also my Will that an estate at Burslem, late in the occupation of Joseph Wedgwood, consisting of a newly erected dwelling house, a set of pot works, with other buildings, and a field called the Cross Hill, containing altogether about two acres; and likewise an estate in the Parish of Astbury, in the County of Chester, called Spengreen, and now in the holding of Thomas Johnson, containing about seventy-five acres or thereabouts; and also a piece of land on the east side of the Bridge in Congleton, in the said County of Chester, being about two rods; and also all the rest, residue, and remainder, messages, lands, tenements, hereditaments, and real estate, money, securities for money, debts due and owing, personal Estate and Effects of what nature or kind soever or wheresoever, not hereinbefore particularly devised or disposed of, together with such or so much of the several sums of money hereinbefore mentioned and bequeathed as shall, by means of the contingencies and directions hereinbefore expressed, shall all of them sink into and become parts of the said residue of my personal Estate. And I do hereby give, devise, and bequeath the same unto my said Executors, for the payment of the legacys and annuities hereinbefore mentioned; and provided there should be a residue after the above mentioned payments, then I direct that such residue shall go and be divided unto and amongst my said children, John Wedgwood, Thomas Wedgwood, Susannah Wedgwood, Catherine Wedgwood, and Sarah Wedgwood, their heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns, equally, share and share alike, as tenants in common, and not as joint tenants; and if there should be any deficiency of real or personal estates for paying the said legacys and annuitys, such deficiency shall in that case be born equally amongst and made up by those my said children above named, (that is to say) John Wedgwood, Thomas Wedgwood, Susannah Wedgwood, Catherine Wedgwood, and Sarah Wedgwood, share and share alike, in proportion to the amount of the legacys to them herein left and bequeathed. And I do hereby nominate, constitute, and appoint my said Wife, my said Son John Wedgwood, and the said James Caldwell, Esq., Executrix and Executors of this my Will. And lastly, I do hereby revoke all former or other Will or Wills by me at any time heretofore made, and do declare this only to be my last Will and Testament.

In witness whereof I have to this my last Will and Testament, contained in six sheets of paper, and have to each of the first five sheets thereof set my hand, and to the sixth and last sheet thereof my hand and seal the day and year first before written. — Jos. Wedgwood (L.S.)

Signed, sealed, published, and declared by the said Josiah Wedgwood, as and for his last Will and Testament, in the presence of us, who in his presence, and in the presence of each other, have hereunto subscribed our names as witnesses thereto; the several following words being first interlined: money—my—happen—said. — Alexr. Chisholm, Thomas Mitchell, Joseph Mitchell, Joseph Rutland

John Wedgwood, of Etruria, in the County of Stafford, Esquire, maketh oath, and saith that he has searched among the papers and writings of his late Father, Josiah Wedgwood, late of Etruria aforesaid, Esquire, deceased, in order to find certain Schedules or Paper Writings referred to in the last Will and Testament of the said Josiah Wedgwood, and therein mentioned to be annexed thereto, and respectively marked A and B. And this Deponent further saith that he has not been able to find such Schedules or Paper Writings, or either of them; and this Deponent further saith that he has never heard or been informed, nor does he believe that the said Josiah Wedgwood ever wrote or made out, or caused to be written or made out, such Schedules or Paper Writings, or either of them. — John Wedgwood

Sworn at Newcastle under Lyme, in the County of Stafford, the 29th day of June, 1795, Before me, John Lloyd, a Commissioner.

Proved at London, 2nd July, 1795, before the Judge, by the Oath of John Wedgwood, the Son, one of the Executors, to whom Administration was granted, having been first sworn by Commission duly to administer. Power reserved of making the like grant to Sarah Wedgwood, Widow, the Relict, and James Caldwell, the other Executors, when they shall apply for the same.

That was… certainly a lot of words. Let’s see if they mean anything! Turns out that this isn’t another John Gibson, rural postman and shoemaker from New Cumnock, Scotland, but a prominent historical figure with close familial connections to someone whose name you definitely know.

Josiah Wedgwood (12 July 1730 – 3 January 1795) was an English potter, entrepreneur and abolitionist. Founding the Wedgwood company in 1759, he developed improved pottery bodies by systematic experimentation, and was the leader in the industrialisation of the manufacture of European pottery. He is credited as a pioneer of modern marketing, specifically direct mail, money back guarantees, travelling salesmen, carrying pattern boxes for display, self-service, free delivery, buy one get one free, and illustrated catalogues.

As well as pretty, decorative vases and crockery with aesthetics and technology rooted in antiquity, Wedgwood put his designs to a more radical use. He was elected onto the Committee of the Abolition of the Slave Trade and designed an anti-slavery medallion which became the most famous image of a black person in all of 18th-century art. Covering the costs of distribution and production himself, Wedgwood ensured that it became a powerful symbol of public support.

Josiah was also a founder of the famous Darwin–Wedgwood family and the grandfather of Charles and Emma Darwin. It was the considerable inheritance Josiah left to his son, Josiah II, that enabled young Darwin’s survey voyage aboard HMS Beagle and, consequently, the development of his theory of evolution.

Okay, but what links the “Prince of Potters” to Aziraphale and his bookshop?

In 1774 Josiah Wedgwood and his longtime business partner, Thomas Bentley, opened a new warehouse, enamelling rooms and most handsome showrooms at 12-13 Greek Street, Soho. In 1795, after Josiah’s death, the Wedgwood studio moved to 8 St. James’s Square and the buildings were later occupied by coachmakers, writers and other artists.

Now, through Word of God we already know that Aziraphale spent the 1600s using his personal savings to gradually buy out portions of the neighboring land in order to build the original bookshop “on Greek Street just off Old Compton”, which finally opened in its current form in 1800.

This means that for the time Josiah’s company operated in Soho, they were at least neighbors.

#Yuri is doing her thing #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #A. Z. Fell & Co.#aziraphale #aziraphale’s bookshop #aziraphale is a landlord #and has a penchant for legal documents #which sounds a bit too ominous for an angel

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questing-wulfstan · 2 years

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Listen, I can't blame y'all when His Excellence Neil Gaiman hisself compared it to Dream walking out on his date with Hob to hit it off with Shaxberd upon learning about Eleanor and Robyn, but I feel like fixating on this interpretation only of the scene is a disservice to Morpheus' overall characterisation over the season.

Have you noticed how Hob calls "his friend" over to his table and that doesn't phase Morpheus at all then Dream doesn't even ask him whether he still wants to live before putting an end to their meeting ? It's unexpected from someone otherwise so strict and set on protocols ー even when he storms out in 1889, he already had Hob's answer to that question. Yet he leaves 1589 Hob without having formally asked the one question that justifies their centennial meetings.

That is because Dream knows, oh he knows what Hob's Heaven is like. He's had a wife and a son of his own once, and he knew what eternity by their side would be like, once. And he knows Hob has everything but Death on his mind then. He also knows ー or so he thinks ー what Hob's answer will be the next century. For Hob Gadling alone was granted immortality, not Eleanor, nor Robyn. And Morpheus knows what outliving one's son is like.

Morpheus' work in this tavern of the White Horse is done, but he's also taken back to the most traumatic event of his existence, one he won't recover from in two millennia and he can't look Hob in the eyes anymore, he needs a distraction, something, anything but having to confront his revenant grief. And there's that playwright loudly willing to strike a bargain with higher entities for the ability to create timeless dreams for humanity and there's his distraction, there's an escape ...

Comes 1689, Morpheus is certain of the outcome of this meeting. Sure, it will have taken the bugger three time the hundred years Dream had predicted Death, but no matter because it is true : nobody can bear an endless existence.

Then Morpheus learns about not only the expected death of Hob's son, but that it happened much earlier than it should have, devoid of a fulfilling lifetime for Robyn and of psychological preparation for Hob. Scythed in the prime of life, much like Orpheus. And within a close time frame to his wife's departure, too. Hob is holding up a mirror to Morpheus' own misery and the King of Dreams finds himself on the verge of tears. He is no longer smug as he offers Hob what he thinks of as an eventual relief.

Yet ... Hob doesn't take it. Somehow, somewhere, Hob Gadling finds it in himself to resist the tragedy of his life, to chose tomorrow, to decide that whatever the future holds, it is worth being there to see it.

And that is really when something kindles within Morpheus. No longer mere curiosity but a devouring fascination for Hob Gadling, his hopefulness and his resilience. He latches onto that man who shares his misery yet seem to have overcome it, or anyhow accommodated himself to it.

And when they meet again in 1789, and fortune has smiled upon Hob Gadling once again, Morpheus is much more open, much more attentive, much more interested. Who knows if he might not have given Hob his name even, hadn't lady Johanna Constantine interrupted him ?

By all means, Morpheus doesn't process their blooming bond. He's the anthropomorphic incarnation of the human or really, the living unconscious : there are numerous things passing through his mind at all time that he does not process. To him, he's merely monitoring the puzzling glitch that is Robert Gadling's will to live still, and waiting for him to eventually, inevitably renounce his immortality.

So when another century has passed and Hob asserts that their meetings are unnecessary for he won't ever renounce being alive but proposes his friendship, Morpheus is left reeling, faced with how much he has in common with this 'mortal' and his envy for Hob's resilience and capacity to forge ahead.

Naturally he takes flight and makes for an escape, lest he finds himself ensnared by his own grief ...

#sandman #netflix the sandman #dreamling #morpheus #dream of the endless #hob gadling #hob x morpheus #hob x dream #this is such a mess does it even makes sense ??#anywho I've spent way too long writing this out #meta #which admittedly slid towards poetic flourish but meta nonetheless #sandman meta #userlyde

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villainmirabelmadriga · 5 months

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Okay so this is my first time posting a you like this but I heard this song from epic the musical it's called https://youtube.com/shorts/u6ZweXoWiIE?si=at1vK8v1cnCBnniT

And I can't stop imagining Au with it I think I might call it the court of the Phantom

Okay so here's the rundown of it Clockwork, Pandora , Frostbite, and Dora where the old council of Pariah Dark along with the Observance somewhat all ran the Infinite Realm together but once Danny became the new Ghost King he had to make his own court and could not be for the same people as last time for some random ghost rule reason. So who else is better in his own two sisters and his friends and let's just say the Giw and Jack and Maddie do some terrible things like kidnap Danny dissecting while Ellie, Valerie, Sam, Tucker, save him. After the entire sh!t show infinite realms now have an entirely good reason to call for war on the human realm.

When Constantine and finds out he's like what the hell's happening he's like oh snap we got to go to the Infinite Realms to try a peace treaty since Constantine doesn't pay attention as much as he shouldn't so him does not know about the new king.

Open the entire Justice League shows up to try talking to the council that replaced the king the interaction goes somewhat like this.

Constantine: we are here to talk to Pariah dark about a peace offering to stop the incoming war Master of Time .

Clockwork who's cryptic bastard mode: we are no longer the council anymore we were disbanded with the new Kings crowning.

Constantine: Holy sh!t an entirely different King that we don't know anything about that we have to convince can you tell us who the new counseling King is Master Of Time

Clockwork: Well let's say the new king is Young you would like to make this into a game probably so let's do that

Clockwork: Let me introduce to you the five people in phantoms council that you'll have to convince

Clockwork: 🎶First you'll have to convince Princess Jasmine the older sister of King.🎶

Clockwork: 🎶Then you'll have to convince the Mirror born Princess Danielle🎶

Clockwork: Red huntress train by Pandora herself

Clockwork: Pharaoh Tucker The reincarnation of the Pharaoh

Clockwork: Sam the chosen daughter of undergrowth

Clockwork: And lastly King Phantom himself have fun~

After that Clockwork just disappears to let the new council do their thing. The Justice League just standing there rising that the government has been so terrible that they had convinced the children they have no choice but to go to war how hard it's going to be to convince them not to go to war

And Danny's friends and family are just sitting there ready to fight the Justice League cuz they don't want Danny to be hurt again.

Well I hope you like this is my first time writing something like this and if you want to use this as a prompt you can I'll still probably just might write a story about this or continue updating the AU but I hope you have fun with the Phantom's court au

#dc x dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #tucker foley #sam manson #valerie #bruce wayne #batman #dp x dc crossover #clockwork #danielle #ghost king danny #justice league

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phantomposting · 1 year

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Another half asleep twins au rant/prompt! Please excuse any spelling or grammar errors I have not slept in a hot minute.

Trigger Warning ⚠️: Ghost Hunger, Dissection/vivisection, starvation

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So this is a Ghost Hunger Damian and Danny are twins au. I was reminded about ghost hunger the other day and boy did it give me the spark of creativity I needed to create yet another au/fic idea to hyperfixate on.

So in this au Damian and Danny were very close as siblings but Danny ended up dying throwing himself in harms way to protect Damian on a mission for the league. Damian blames himself for not having better reflexes/not paying enough attention and could never convince his grandfather to allow Danyal to be resurrected via the pit.

Talia saw how desperate her son was for the other to live though and also cared for Danyal so she risked it all to revive him secretly and hide him amongst the civilians in America. Damian sadly never got to learn about that fact tho and lived years with the guilt he felt which left him determined to never let that happen again. Which meant he could never let anyone get close enough to want to do such a thing for him and he needed to hone his skills.

Danny on the other hand has hazy memories of his brother while with the Fentons and goes through the same timeline of becoming Phantom and protecting Amity Park. Eventually tho his parents find out and that gets him strapped to a table in the basement begging for his half life/getting vivisected.

So Danny flees going on the run and ends up on the streets of Gotham. The spirit of Gotham is so excited and welcoming to her newest child. He is a protector and her king after all. It fills her with pride that she would get to care for such an important person. She does all she can to make sure the king stays safe. Little things to keep him hidden and protected.

Danny however has unintentionally been keeping a pretty big secret from the ghosts of the realm. He doesn't really know this though and thinks its just a ghost thing. Basically his core is slightly corrupted due to the years he spent around the Lazarus pits aswell as the revival vial the dip in it's corrupt ectoplasm. As a result he experiences ghost hunger which was pretty easy to manage when he lived with the Fenton's. He would normally satiate his hunger via eating pure ectoplasm from the lab but now he has no access to that which leads him to starving himself.

This starvation mixed with his human side starving aswell is very very hard on his body as a result he begins to black out sometimes when he wakes up he usually tastes ectoplasm but just assumes its his own due to his injuries from his parents. These injuries are weirdly taking way longer to heal which is due to ghosts being very mental/emotional state based.

Gotham soon realizes she has a big problem on her hands. It turns out the king's core is corrupted and as a result many of her ghostly children are going missing. She is deeply upset and calls out for help to assist the king with his corruption or stop him from killing more of her children. She hopes the king gets help rather than getting taken down however. She knows it's not his fault. She knows how protective of her city and her people he is and how kind he can be to them and hopes issues get solved so he may become a protector of her people.

This call for help brings Constantine to Gotham. He doesn't get a whole lot of info from Gotham at first but he knows whatever is going on can be dangerous and is important. He knows that some of the bats are in danger too and gives them a warning that something in Gotham seems to be hunting ghostly beings and those whom have died before are at risk especially Red Hood.

The Bat's don't take too kindly to the supernatural threat and kinda force their way into assisting Constantine whom is already annoyed with the prospect of having to deal with the bats.

So time passes and the bats gets a few encounters of feeling as if they're being hunted. Jason is also the first to discover the new homeless kid in Gotham who looks almost exactly like Damian. It's hard to really see too many similarities at the time tho he's so thin it's deeply worrying and his icy blue eyes greatly contrast Damian's emerald green, but some similarities are far too obvious to miss. Oh great more black hair blue eyed adoption bait. Better keep him far away from Bruce.

The few run ins some of the bat kids have with Danny make them worried about the homeless kid. Dick, Tim, Duke and Jason all get run ins with the kid and tho they want to try and help the kid he always seems to vanish without a trace. It's kinda creepy but they all can recognize just how scared this kid is.

Eventually Bruce and Damian get their run in with the kid. The GiW have finally tracked Danny down and due to the stupid vivisection wounds not healing and the starvation of both forms he can't get the strength he needs to defend himself or make an easy escape. He ends up cornered in an alleyway and getting shot with luckily no major damage. Batman and Robin come across the scene of what appears to be some weird new gang bullying a homeless child and makes quick work of them.

After all is said and done and they look back to help the injured kid Damian ends up shocked to find that this kid is Danyal. At first he pulls his sword on him making threats thinking this is some sick and twisted trick from the league, but then he comes to his senses seeing how broken and defeated Danyal is. He doesn't flinch or shy away from the fate, though he has tears in his deeply tired eyes he doesn't fight back. He doesn't seem to have the energy to. He just sits against the walled dead end that almost got him killed and stares down the katana as if he no longer fears death.

Things get bit emotional as he questions his long dead brother. Danny is honest in answering he doesn't know how he came back nor does he fully remember how he died in the first place. He also dodges some of the questions and keeps the ghost half hidden. He explains to them he's gotten himself into trouble however and people are after him now and he appreciates the help. He keeps as much as he can about ghosts being involved a secret. He has no idea about the Bat's stances on them after all. And he seems to hate metas so probably won't take to kindly to a ghost.

Damian and Danny share info and Bruce discovers he has a son he didn't know about and deeply regrets not being there cause the state this kid is in is pretty dier. He's not sure he can fully trust the kid though. It's clear he's hiding something and that could be a danger to his family and Gotham, but he decides to give him a chance. After all this is his son and he wants to help him no matter what.

Bruce calls in someone to cover the rest of his and Damian's patrol route for the night and has Alfred get Doctor Thompkins to meet them back in the cave for medical assistance. They get Danny back and he starts getting some treatment for his wounds. Alfred and Thompkins are pretty horrified to find the vivisection wounds on the kiddo. They are definetly infected by this point. And much to Danny's dismay he has to use the excuse that he's a meta to explain why he's got such a low temperature and heart rate, why he can't use sedatives, and why stitches and stuff like that won't work.

So treatment is a bit difficult but they do their best with it. Alfred and Thompkins also discuss what needs to be done to get the kid back on track to being healthy. All the while Damian is anxiously waiting to be able to see his brother again. Bruce has never seen Damian show such emotion and care before aside from when he's dealing with animals. It's so jarring. And of course the other bat kids are snooping trying to find out what's going on.

So recovery is slow and bat kids try to connect with their new sibling whenever Damian isn't trying to act as a guard dog/mother hen. Danny ends up the closest with Damian and Jason in the family. Jason can immediately tell something is off with the kid due to the Lazarus water reacting to him and is the first person Danny opens up to about being half ghost (much to Damian's dismay). Jason keeps Danny's secret for him but encourages him subtly to open up to the others cause they'll definetly accept him despite the fact that he's half dead. They bond a lot on their mutual trauma and of course Damian is jealous but also happy Danny is actually talking to someone and getting back on his feet.

Damian still feels immense guilt over the first death Danyal faced and this guilt makes him think of course Danyal would want to avoid him that Danyal blames him too which is totally untrue and eventually gets worked through but not until after theres some conflicts due to jealousy. But that comes later.

One night Jason decides to stay over for Danny's sake and Danny has another black out. Basically his ghost form goes feral and tries to go after Jason. This results in the discovery that Danny was the danger Constantine has been looking for all along and there's a major blow up in the family due to this info. Danny only stops feral mode after eating a blob ghost (poor lil guy) and gets rudely awoken by the batfam accusations of attempted murder.

Danny is finally informed that he's been killing and eating ghosts and is horrified this goes against his whole goal of protecting everyone and keeping the balance and really goes against his protection obsession. It breaks him and Bruce yelling accusations at him doesn't help at all. Kiddo has a major breakdown and goes on the run from his new family thinking he is a danger and that he blew it with them.

Danny faces issues with injury to his core aswell due to what he's done and how that effects his obsession. Basically he's having a real bad time.

Jason whom has connected with the kiddo knows that this ain't Danny and somethings clearly wrong and so does Damian so the two reluctantly band together to locate and help the poor kiddo. With this team up Damian discovers Jason knew Danny was a half ghost and jealousy causes a fight but they manage to keep the team together out of concern for the kiddo.

The the other Bats team up with Constantine to track him down and eliminate the threat. Gotham tries to impede them though cause she knows the route they are on will only bring harm to the ghost king rather than help him. She tries her best to help hood and Robin find him first.

When Jason and Damian discover Danny he's in bad shape. Kiddos absolutely breaking down and very injured his core is definetly injured for sure. They try to offer assistance but Danny isn't thinking straight he's like a wounded animal so if he gets cornered he fights back.

It really doesn't help that the GiW manages to track him down yet again and the boyoa have to deal with both that and a ghostly Danny whom poses a risk of injury to not only them but himself.

With so much going on its no surprise that the GiW actually succeeds in capturing Danny. The two vigilante's end up getting knocked out and left to the wayside.

Eventually the other bats come across them and they explain Danny was captured by the thugs that first attacked him. Constantine recognizes the organization and is deeply frustrated but hey atleast it's not his problem anymore right? Wrong. With the kids explanations he realizes Danny was not actually evil. He's partially alive and he is a protector spirit not a rouge one. He also realizes how bad things are cause a spirit like that committing such acts that he has risks destabilization which would probably kill both the human and ghost half. He's no ghost expert but Gotham's giving him signs she wants him to help the ghost kid and now he's in quite the pickle.

So this leads everyone into panic mode and search and recuse mode. Theres a big rescue mission where they break into the GiW headquarters and fight the GiW to get Danny back. Of course he is having a hard time staying stable and they have to both use whatever magic Constantine can muster to keep him as stable as he can and on the spot therapy time to try and stabilize the poor kiddo.

Eventually they get him stable enough to bring him back home but now he has mandatory therapy sessions with Black Canary. They also have a lot of emotional work ahead of them aswell and physical work trying to get a steady supply of ectoplasm so the kid doesn't starve again.

They have to fight the Fenton's for custody aswell and try and dismantle the GiW and anti ecto acts. Its a long process and they really discover just how bad things were for the kid.

They probably have a visit to frostbite too if they can get a portal and this helps him heal and make sure no more ghost medical problems occur. This also helps the family learn a lot of ghost health is tied to emotional and mental health.

Damian and Danny probably end up getting in a few fights due to Damian's jealousy aswell but eventually work though it and become closer due to it. They are inseparable. And Damian also has to learn to get used to Jason being around and an active older brother figure. Bruce apologizes for his mistreatment of the kiddo too. Their relationship stays a bit rocky for a long while but they definitely make progress.

Theres a lot of emotions and emotional conflict and things are very rocky for awhile but eventually they get to be a functional and loving family dynamic! Danny gets a happy ending in the end it's not a perfect home but he definetly wouldn't want to be anywhere else :D

This is the longest prompt I've written yet I hope you guys enjoy it 💗💗💗

#danny phantom #dp x dc #batman crossover #dp au #damian wayne #danny and damian are twins #writing prompt #jason todd #I'm so sleepy tired and I'm sorry if that effects the prompt in any way #ghost hunger #I was reminded about ghost hunger and my brain went a little crazy bonkers with it #sorry if this one is a bit everywhere just kinda having fun with it #so much drama so much trauma #angst supreme

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deb-1106 · 10 months

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MC Madness

Okay, so I know that I’ve missed every deadline. 🙈 But the thing is...I started all of them!!! LOL I just have terrible follow-through.

So I combined weeks 2 and 3 (party prep and party time) into one mood board to try and get back on track. I apologize profusely to @choicesmcmadness for completely flouting the rules, but here we are. 😋

I’m tagging my current tag list. ❤

@ao719 @burnsoslow @sincerelyella @charlotteg234 @thirsty-flygirl @mskaneko @choiceswreckedme @walkerismychoice @txemrn @twinkleallnight @imashybish @blackcatkita @katedrakeohd @boneandfur @sfb123 @queenrileyrose @foreverethereal123 @kingliam2019 @nestledonthaveone @bebepac @petiteboheme @princess-geek @indiana-jr @nikkis1983 @yukinagato2012 @tessa-liam @marshmallowsandfire @twinkleallnight @tinkie1973 @mom2000aggie @walkerdrakewalker @alyshak92 @emkay512 @karahalloway

RSVP

Who will be coming?

Duchess Ava Matheson Walker

Where are they coming from?

Ava is my MC from The Royal Romance series (and the Royal Heir, although I’d rather forget that travesty.🤮)

Are they going to be bringing a date to the party?

Ava will be accompanied by her husband Drake Walker, The Duke of Valtoria.

MC Mixer - Week 2

PARTY PREP

What will your MC / OC and their date(s) be wearing?

Ava is generally a very down-to-earth girl who spends most days in yoga gear with her hair up in a messy bun as she chases around after her two small children. However, she does LOVE to get fully glammed up for a special night out and even has a closet devoted entirely to her extensive collection of cocktail dresses and formal designer ball gowns. For this occasion, Ava has chosen a strapless, feathered gown by Armani paired with Cartier chandelier earrings.

Drake will also be wearing Armani, simply because it’s what Ava laid out for him. He doesn’t even grumble about it anymore, as he has placed this issue firmly into the “pick your battles” portion of their marriage. But, much as he hates to admit it, he doesn’t mind dressing up as much as he once did. With a woman like Ava on his arm, he had to up his fashion game, and there’s no denying he looks pretty damn good in a well-tailored suit.

On important nights such as this, Drake will wear his father’s black Rolex, a gift from King Constantine for 10 years of loyal service to the crown.

Do they have any rituals or other things they must do or wear?

If she has time, (and the kids are occupied) Ava likes to take a relaxing bubble bath to unwind and recharge before spending a long evening socializing. Because although she always seems like she’s having the time of her life at these events, she’s secretly counting the minutes until she and Drake can escape back to the peace and sanctity of their own home.

If possible, (again, if the kids are otherwise occupied) Drake will join her in the bathtub, which is a date night “ritual” they both very much look forward to. However, it inevitably prolongs the “getting ready” process quite a bit, so if they’re pressed for time, Drake will let Ava enjoy her bath in solitude while he takes his shower and shaves.

Will they need a babysitter?

Ava and Drake have two children, Emelia (4) and Jax (2), and are actively working on baby number three. Their house manager/nanny, Agnes will be watching the children tonight.

How will they get there? Drake would always prefer to take his beloved Jeep, but some occasions call for something a little more elegant, so Drake will drive Ava’s Jaguar this evening.

MC Mixer - Week 3

When will they arrive?

While they always strive for punctuality, more often than not they end up running a bit behind schedule. Sometimes Ava’s hair and makeup will take longer than expected and occasionally their pre-party “bath time” will run long, but what usually holds them up is the process of extracting themselves from their children who have developed a nasty habit of clinging to their parents and screaming bloody murder when they try to leave the house without them. (Surviving the toddler years is not for the faint of heart.)

What are they drinking?

Drake will drink whiskey, neat. The better the bottle, the happier he’ll be.

Ava loves a good espresso martini. Coffee and Vodka ... is there anything better? However, she’s learned that she can only have two before switching to water for a while because they kick her ass.

What kind of party-goer are they?

Ava used to love nothing more than a good party. Very social and bubbly by nature, people have always been drawn to her and Ava thrived in the spotlight. She could dance and drink and socialize with anyone and everyone until the sun came up and be ready to do it all again the next night. But now that she’s a wife and mother, her priorities have shifted and she finds that after a few hours partying, she’s more than ready to flee the commotion and head back home to spend some quiet time alone with Drake.

On the other hand, Drake has gotten slightly more social in the last few years since marrying Ava and becoming Duke of Valtoria. Yes, having his gorgeous wife on his arm soothes the sting of these social events, no question. But he also found that the more time he spent among the aristocracy, the better he understood them.

He’d misjudged them.

The nobility weren’t simply the spoiled, vapid, and idle misanthropes who’d openly tormented him for most of his life, simply on the basis of his common birth. No, they were so much more than that. They were also insecure, emotionally unstable, and deeply, DEEPLY unhappy. Most lacked any kind of meaningful connection with another human being, so they used their money, social status, and worthless titles to shield themselves against the crushing loneliness that their privileged lives afforded them.

So no, he didn’t hate the nobles anymore. He pitied them.

#choices trr #choices mc madness #trr drake #choices mc #drake x ava #Deb-1106 writes

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momachan · 2 months

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"So... are you a real doctor? -Am I a real doctor of what? -I don't know. -I'm not a medical doctor if that's what you mean, child, although I can set a bone or staunch the flow of blood if need be. -"Dr. Occult." It's a funny name. -Name? -Thing to be called, then... Will you tell me something?...You four. Who are you? I mean, Constantine, he's just a bloke, isn't he? -John Constantine... Yes. He dances on the edge of the known, like a crazy man, piting himself against heaven and the pit, because he is John Constantine, and because he is alive. -How about Mr. E? Is he really blind? -Oh yes. He... he is an extremist. He fights what he sees as the forces of darkness; but sometimes I suspect that all he ever can see is darkness... However, he can travel ways that even I cannot. - And the other one? He spooks me... -The Stranger? Ahh, I have encountered him, many times, in the past. He also walks his own path. One that began too long ago, and suspect, has no end in view. I do not know his story. I know no one who does; although I have heard conjectures aplenty: that he is the wandering jew, or an angel who neither fell with Lucifer not fought at Michael's side, or... There are other guesses. Some say he owes allegiance to order, or to chaos, or to balance: speculations all. I do not know what he is, and perhaps he has walked to forget so long that he himself no longer remembers. -Ah. And how about you? -I am your guide throught this stage of your journey, Timothy Hunter. And you may trust me."

The Books of Magic. Book III. "The Land of Summer's Twilight."

#dc comics #john constantine #dr occult #mister e #phantom stranger #the books of magic #dc vertigo #the trench coat brigade

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thepaintedlady00 · 2 years

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Oneshot: Dreams POV The Reunion

The small lingering spark of rage twisted in his lungs. "It was stolen by another magic user called Burgess."

Recognition sparked in her. "Wait, not Roderick Burgess? The old demon king himself, eh?" Recognition shifted to rage. "Woman beating piece of shit, everyone said he had the devil locked up in his basement, wait how did you…"

He'd felt the unpleasant curl of the memories beginning to swarm his mind, but the look she held in her eyes was deeper than mere pity, a realization. "It was you…"

"Yes," he'd said in answer, but the look did not fade.

"No… You're him, the man in the glass."

Impossible. Darkness laced his tongue when he spoke. "How do you know about that?"

"Holy shit." She breathed out, searching quicker for something in the pile. "My flatmate, the one I mentioned, stayed at the Burgess house for two years before the bastard sent her up the river to the looney bin."

He'd stopped breathing. No. This was surely some cruel joke. "That's not…"

She pulled the picture frame out from under a stack of papers and held it up to him. "Does she look familiar to you?"

His fingers curled around the frame, digging into it painfully tight as he stared down in awe. It was her. Curled around Johanna Constantines back, smile wide… Happy and eyes filled with the joy they'd been devoid of their last meeting. How? How was this possible?

The sound of the front door closing restarted his heart and for the first time in eighty years he felt the mark on his arm burn. The tugging sensation snapped into a forceful pull as he turned and looked at the office door.

"Johanna! You home?" The sound of her voice nearly made him collapse as he turned to the door fully. For the first time in eighty years he could feel her, her heart beating strongly like an echo in his own chest.

Constantine looked at him before shouting back, "In here!"

The doorknob twisted and the familiar sight of her slipped into the office. She had her head down, rummaging through a bag in her hands. "I got your usual, but they forgot the…" Her head lifted, running along the length of his body until their eyes met. Her beautiful eyes… His memory had not done them justice, had not done any of her justice. She was so beautiful. "Sauce."

He could feel her chest tighten and her emotions rage with disbelief. He too could hardly believe it. She should have been dead or at the very least old like Alex and Paul were now, but here she was, looking no different than the last time he saw her. No, he told himself looking at the healthy coloring of her skin, her neatly combed through hair and no longer sickly thin frame. She was healthy… She was alive.

Constantine stepped around the mess, grabbing the bag from her flatmates shaking hands. "I'm gonna, uh, give you two a minute."

The door closed behind her, but neither of them moved. Both were too afraid that this was just an elaborate dream or vision… Both too afraid to face a possible reality where this was not real. After a long moment Dream took a deep breath. It was only fair that he speak first, after she'd spent all those years talking. "Hello, Penelope."

It was the first time he'd been able to speak her name without feeling the pain of her death rip through him. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to wipe the tears from her beautiful face. He wanted to feel her warmth on him, anywhere, everywhere. She said nothing as she closed the distance between them, throwing her arms over his shoulders and pulling herself up into him. He could feel her fingers gather up the material of his cost, squeezing as tightly as they could. The smell of lilac and peony filled his nose as the warmth of her sunk into his chest, healing the gaping wound that her loss had left.

He couldn't breathe. This was real, she was real. Her body moved slightly and his hand pushed into her back, afraid she'd try to pull away from him. He wasn't ready for that, Dream didn't think he ever would be. Her voice was soft and filled with repressed sobs as she whispered against him, "Hi, Sandman."

Sandman, he thought fondly. What would it sound like when she said his true name? He wondered, not entirely sure he'd be prepared for such a thing. The embrace lasted for a while longer, but when she pulled away to wipe her eyes he planted his hand in place, not ready to let her be out of his arms. Dream needed to touch her, needed to feel her. "How?"

She was so visibly surprised by his voice he had to refrain from smiling. Her head shook a little. "I don't really know."

"What happened?" He asked, his voice tense and rough at just the memory of Paul weeping, attempting to tell him what he already knew… that she was gone. His chest burned and he had to stare down at her to remind himself that she was here.

With a shuddering sigh she leaned forward, her forehead pressing against his chin. His eyes closed and he resisted the pull he felt telling him to press a kiss to her head, as she had when she said her final goodbye. Not final, he thought, leaning into her a little. She's right here. "After the basement…" The pain in her voice made him want to return to the Burgess house and destroy everything last inch of it. He'd gone easy on them, been far more merciful than he should have and he'd done it because she was gone and all he'd wanted then was to go home and mourn her. "I wasn't going to go back… And the only way I could see to do that was to… Well…"

"Throw a car off a bridge?" Dream said for her.

He almost regretted speaking at all when she pulled back, taking her warmth with her. Her simmering eyes starred up into his and she shrugged. "I didn't think you knew about that."

"Paul told me," he replied. Though told was a generous word to describe the unhinged sobs the man had fought to get the words through. The pain swelled up in him again and he had to look at her, look at the pulse point of her neck as it jumped with her heart, to remind himself. She's alive. "He said you were dead." He forced himself to keep breathing. "I thought you were dead."

More tears filled her eyes. "I think I was. For a little bit at least."

The words stung him. What had she been forced to do to survive all these years? What had he failed to keep her safe from while he wasted away in his cage letting her death consume everything left of him? "Then how are you here?" He finally asked. "How do you look exactly as I remember?" Better than I remember, he thought, eyes trailing down the length of her.

A scar, long and jagged, stood out against her skin and he felt the shame and disgust rise quickly in her. She pulled it into herself, obviously trying to shield it from his view. The act only made it sting more. "I only remember pulling myself out of the river." His chest constricted. She had to pull herself from the wreckage? She had to endure being alone, for how long? "Everything before is… Hazy." She nudged him, the movement bringing his eyes back to hers. "How did you get out?"

"Paul." He said. "He broke the summoning circle, which in turn restored a small portion of my power. I used that to free myself." When you get out, make them pay for it. Every second. Her broken voice filled his mind and pride mixed with regret filled him. "I kept my promise." She drew in a tight breath. "Alex Burgess pays for every second of torment he allowed."

Penelope was conflicted with joy and guilt. She'd grown even more forgiving, even more perfect in his absence. Before he could let the hurt of it settle into him she smiled. He hadn't seen that smile in eighty years, the weight of it nearly took over him. "Thank you." Dread filled her and him. "I… I did try to come back for you. I did… But…"

It hurt, the knowledge that even after whatever had she had endured in the five years she was away and after attempting to end that torment only to come out alive, changed, she'd still thought of him. She still tried to free him from his own cage. His lifted his hand to her cheek, running his thumb along the soft skin. "Do not apologize. Freeing me was never your burden."

"Still," she said, relief filling her tightened lungs. "I wanted you to know I tried. I'd be the worst person ever if I just let you rot there without a second thought, Sandman." Of course she would think that way.

"Morpheus." The need to hear her say his name was all he could feel now. The warmth that filled her made him continue. "My name is Morpheus, Dream of the Endless."

"Is it Morpheus or Dream?" A chill ran up his spine, the sound of both names from her lips scratched and itch in him he didn't know he had.

"Either, but…" he was breathless, just from her voice. "People call me Dream mostly, but in private I would like you to calm me Morpheus."

"Morpheus." God her voice was enrapturing, her smile even more so. "It's certainly not as catchy as Sandy, but it'll do."

He'd forgotten the horrid nickname, forgotten what a tease she was. "I hated that name, just so you know."

"Oh I knew, but that only made it more fun," she said laughing, laughing the way he remembered. He wanted her to laugh again, wanted to hear the sound for eternity. But, instead she looked up at him with a soft smile. "I'm glad you got free, Morpheus."

He smiled a little, bowing his head down into hers. "I am glad you did as well, Penelope."

Sorrow cooled in her and she pulled away, squeezing the necklace in her hand. "I um… I have something for you."

He watched her move through the room, his eyes fixated on the way her body moved. A sinful, lustful need rose in him. He had to smother it, now was hardly the time for such a thing. She retrieved a small pouch from one of the drawers of the cleanest desk in the room, hers he assumed. She returned to his side and set it carefully in his hand. "It's… It's Jessamy, well her remains."

Dream was flooded with the sharp pain of his raven's death. She… She kept this, kept her, all these years? "How?"

A wave of nervous fear ebbed between them as she proceeded to ramble. "I'm sorry if I've offended you! I didn't really know how you wanted… I was going to bury her, but it just didn't feel right, trapping her in that place. So I burned her, or well, Paul did… And kept the ashes hoping that, well… Hoping we'd get to have this talk."

She'd carried his loyal companion's remains with her for eighty years, not even knowing if she'd ever see him again. He didn't deserve this kindness. And he certainly didn't deserve the ashes of the one he'd failed to save. "You should keep it. To remember her by."

Pressing the pouch into her hand he heard her sigh. "Oh, I… I already have some pieces of her with me."

His eyes focused on the small vial with a few of the raven's feathers inside it on her necklace. He lifted it up, examining the intricacy of it. "I see. She would have liked that."

"Probably would have tried stealing it from me," she whispered lovingly as she pressed the ashes back into his hand and smiled against the tears that began to swell in her eyes. "Now you can take her home. You can find a place she loved and set her free."

"Thank you, Penelope," he said reluctantly, pulling his hand from hers. "I will not forget this."

"Don't thank me." She nearly sobbed. "I'm sorry I broke my promise."

"I'll not hold it against you," he said, smiling a little more. "His mouth…" Dream was started by the quiet thought that was clearly not his own. "I do not possess your unwavering ability to hold a grudge."

With a breathy laugh she said, "You know I highly doubt that."

He had to push his own questions aside as the feeling of her own wondering filled him. “You have questions.”

“Yeah, you could say that…”

“I have some answers,” he admitted freely, wanting her to know that not everything was so uncertain between them. “But…”

“Later,” She finished, seeming to understand.

“Yes.” He needed to retrieve his tools and tend to The Dreaming before he could offer her anything.

Her tender hesitation and fear struck him. “There will be a later though, right?”

“Yes.” He moved closer, fingers seeking her out as he swore to her. “I promise.”

A loud knock to the door echoed and she took a step away from him. Damn the Constantine. "I get that there's some history here, but I'd very much like to find this bag and be done with Mr. Sandman."

Penelope rubbed her hands together. “Okay, well what exactly are we looking for?”

“A bag of sand,” Constantine said glaring at him as she began looking around the room once again. Still haphazardly throwing and stepping on things with little care.

Penelope jumped into the search, and he couldn't help but watch her. Every movement, every shift, everything she did wanting to commit it all to memory. He forced himself to look away, feeling the heat and need beginning to rise back inside him. The feeling of her eyes raking over him didn't help, but the sudden thought nearly made him groan. "He looks even better naked." He turned towards her, just in time to catch her eyes. Was she doing this on purpose? Did she even realize he could hear her? He spoke instead, trying to clarify the importance of the sand. "It was one of the tools they’d stolen from me. I need it back.”

“So," Constantine said, with a tone of mistrust. "You were down in that basement all this time?”

From the corner of his eye he saw Penelope throw something at her, but he continued looking at the box in front of him. “Is this you?”

“Why?” she groaned, moving closer. “Do I look that different? Or younger?”

She took the photo from his fingers and held it between her own with a regretful look in her eyes.

“No,” he told Constantine. “Happy.”

"Shit. I know where your sand is.”

“God no. You left it with her?”

“I know, I know.”

As Penelope leaned back against her desk he couldn't stop the image of her on top of it, naked and moaning beneath him from filling his head. Dream clenched his jaw and let out a breath. “How do you want to do this?”

The two continued talking. “The only way we can.”

“Oh, so we’re finally offering you up as a sacrifice? I always thought it’d be to some demon, but I suppose an ex girlfriend is close enough.”

“Not funny,” Constantine said, slapping Penelope's shoulder on her way out the office door.

She looked over at him and smiled. God damn her. She had to know. “It is funny though, isn’t it?”

He looked down at her with a fond, adoring smile, pushing everything else aside. “You can be quite amusing.”

“Hear that Jo! Sandy agrees with me!” The familiar annoyance filled him with the nickname.

“You are not calling me that any longer,” he commanded her gently.

“You gonna make me stop?” she teased with a flirtatious grin.

He arched a brow, taking a step forward before he could stop himself. Heat and want and a filthy need to be close to her filled every step he took. “I could.”

“Pen, where's my coat?” This Constsntine was a nuisance.

“Raincheck?” She asked breathlessly.

“I suppose, so long as you bite your tongue the next time you feel the urge to call me Sandy.” "God that voice. I wonder what it would sound like when he-" She didn't know, he decided quickly speaking to cut off her thoughts. "You should be mindful of your thoughts.”

She burned beneath his gaze, embarrassment flooding her "Can you?” He nodded. “Oh god.”

He couldn't help the tiny smirk that spread on his lips for a moment before he cleared his throat and spoke to assure her, “I can’t hear every thought, just the loud ones… the ones you can’t seem to keep to yourself.”

“How long have you been able to do that?”

“The duration of this conversation.”

She covered her face with her hands. “Oh god.”

He was proud, far too proud for either of their own good. Dream opened his mouth to speak when Constantine returned through the door. “Found it. You okay Pen?”

“Yep!” She cried quickly moving forward. “Let’s go!”

“I’ll meet you there,” Dream said, far more amused than he should have been. Penelope looked back at him. "Asshole."

Then she was gone and he chuckled to himself in the empty office. He returned to Matthew, who cawed at him. "So… That girl…"

Frustration filled him. "Do not spy on me, Matthew."

"I wasn't spying!" The bird insisted. "I just took notice. She seems nice."

"She is," Dream said through his annoyance.

"She's pretty too."

"Return to The Dreaming." He growled. "And we will not be speaking of this again."

Matthew tutted. "Whatever you say boss. Tell your girl I said hi! Eh, never mind I'll tell her myself when we get wherever we're going." Dream sighed at the thought of her and the raven becoming friends. They would be insufferable. But, through his slightly annoyed state his body and mind buzzed with the knowledge that the bleak future of mourning was not what awaited him. She was alive.

Tag List:

@blu3what

@swearingsolemnly

@toomanystoriessolittletime

@cosmos-bunny

@missnightingale1971

@superwholockbooknerd526

@briefpostpolice

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#morpheus imagine #the sandman series #dream of the endless #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless #sandman morpheus #sandman netflix #the sandman fanfic #the sandman x you #morpheus fanfiction #lord morpheus #morpheus #morpheus x oc #king of dreams #sandman dream #lord of dreams #the sandman netflix #dream x oc

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teejaystumbles · 2 years

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The Last Unicorn AU anyone?? I saw a post that I can’t find anymore (and I did search my blog and favs but no luck, please let me know and I’ll link it) where Dream was compared to the Lady Amalthea and I couldn't shake it since.

I guess it can be a fairy tale setting or more like an apocalyptic modern AU but essentially I imagine it like this:

Roderick Burgess has captured all the Endless and Dream is the only one left. He hasn’t realized it at first because he and his family are not close, but the dreams of the sleepers have turned disturbed, people can’t die and madness and desire run rampage in the Waking World, destruction on their heels. Just imagine succumbing to delirium and then despair and trying to kill yourself but you can’t. It’s not nice. It’s hell. Dreams are the only refuge and even there, the madness is creeping in.

When Dream realizes that something is Wrong, getting no answers from his gallery, he sets out into the Waking World to find his siblings.

He reluctantly teams up with Johanna Constantine and her friend Rachel. They tell him that Roderick Burgess seems to be blissfully spared by all the terror and madness and is making a fortune off of other’s troubles. All who live at his mansion seem to be safe, but he does not share this safety willingly with many.

When Burgess attempts another ritual to capture the last of the Endless, Johanna, in a desperate attempt at saving Dream, uses a rare spell she found once and saved for a particularly nasty demon. She turns Dream into a human, and it is Not Good.

Dream is beside himself with anguish and terror, he can no longer feel the dreamers, his connection to his realm cut, but he knows it is crumbling more and more the longer he stays in this mortal body, only making everything worse for all humans, now that not even dreams are a safe place.

Johanna is convinced that disguised as a human he can now infiltrate Roderick’s mansion and free his siblings. She is also convinced she can turn him back. (She is in fact not entirely convinced but would sooner die than tell Dream.)

Dream hopes desperately that she is right, because he can already feel his mind slipping, being now influenced by the absence of the Endless like any other human. He goes along with Johanna’s plan because what else can he do, now? At least once they’re in the mansion they won’t have to worry about the side effects any longer.

Roderick Burgess invites them in when he sees Dream, almost as spellbound by his appearance as by the rare book Johanna presents him as a gift to get them inside. They take up lodgings at Fawny Rig and while Johanna shares her knowledge of the supernatural with old Burgess to keep him occupied and distract him from the otherworldlyness her friend is exuding despite being human, Dream searches the halls for any hint of his siblings.

Also living at Fawny Rig is one Robert “please call me Hob” Gadling, who has bought his way into Burgess’ favor with rare antiques and special services (he’s a bit of a mobster and mercenary). He is supposed to keep an eye on newcomers and when he spots pale, blue-eyed Dream, he has every intention of doing just that. Very thoroughly. From preferably as close as possible.

#add to that existential angst over being in a human body #troubles with Burgess: why can I not see myself in your eyes??#desperate love letter writing on Hob's part and Rachel as his wingwoman #and in the end Dream of the Endless saving one Hob Gadling who did everything to help him #and I absolutely love the last unicorn OK guys #so I'm not one bit sorry for this #dreamling #dreamling AU #hob gadling #dream of the endless #The sandman fanfiction #the last unicorn #the last unicorn au

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felidacy · 8 months

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DC x Jennifer's body

I somehow only ever found one fic like this and it focused on Tim as the unfortunate victim. That feels like a crime somehow. Also why I decided against my bias for Tim and instead give the focus to another batfamily member.

TW: mention of SA and alcohol, death, and gore

In this idea I headcanon Dick as asexual. He is by no means like that in canon rip

Basic rundown

Dick who is sexualized for years and assaulted multiple times before, but is publicly known as ace.

was hanging out with some friends (still mourning Jason and drinking too much) when a breakout happens, they leave to deal with it. Dick gets hurt from one of the villain's attacks and attempts to get back to the cave, Alfred insisted on him getting treated regardless that he doesn't want to see Bruce. That is when he gets captured and taken away

Dick gets sacrificed by some cult followers, unaware that he isn't a virgin

Dick wakes up days later with no memories of what happened in the middle of nowhere and an indescribable hunger

Dick kills and eats a deer with his bare hands, which promptly causes a mental breakdown and a crying session (after also vomiting all of the deer out again as well as if he can't eat animal meat any longer.)

he has no phone or anything on him and his clothes are covered in blood (were before he ate the deer too, but not that he was able to pay much attention to that in his state of shock). Still hungry, desperate, and with no means to ask for help Dick walks on until he comes across a small town.

finds a dying man he wishes to help, but that is when the hunger gets the best of him and he eats from the already passed-out man

Dick flees again until he finds himself in an alleyway

Tim was promised by his parents that they would spend his birthday together and he was looking forward to it. It wasn't worth it. He found himself now in an unknown town with his parents being in business meetings since the early morning, not even acknowledging his birthday so far and making more false promises

Wandering around that is when Tim comes across Dick Grayson, his hero, laying in an alleyway and covered in blood. Crying too, a lot

Tim decides that the ex-robin can only be helped by him and plans on bringing the man back to Gotham where he can ask Batman for help (it will be a whole other issue to explain how he knows their identities)

Dick does not want to accept the help of a child, much less when he seems to have lost all humanity along with his self-control now

that all goes out of the window when chaos gremlin Tim 'accidentally' manages to steal a cop car and Dick steps in to help just because he does not wish for him to crash

Cue a journey through the states as a warrant goes out along with missing person reports on the both of them

Dick barely controlling himself as he battles the demon inside himself that wants Tim dead, along the way that only causing other incidents

Tim and Dick end up in Gotham, and chaos ensues when Tim reveals their secrets just to blackmail Batman of all people to get Constantine or anyone else from the Justice League

Dick is impressed, Bruce is not and Alfred has already taken to him is the one that calls for Constantine.

With a totally willing Constatine they can figure out what happened to Dick (much trauma for everyone) and how to stop his violent urges to eat humans (more trauma and shouting)

Dick is more human-like again with no need to eat humans any longer after the demon gets expelled, however, he is forever left as a bit stronger than reasonable with some healing factors that make him able to bend even more into unnatural positions with his joints never seemingly being worn down

And then everyone gets some therapy and everyone can be a way happier family wuhu /j

#batfamily #dick grayson #dc x jennifer's body #dick grayson is not human #tim drake is a little shit #this is very self-indulgent and I probably will never write it myself #angst with a happy ending #let's acknowledge that dick has been assaulted multiple times in the comics

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jayphoenic · 2 years

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MLB Bio!Dad Constantine Recommendations

Con Man’s Daughter by @arty-shadow-morningstar

(Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 7.5)

Batman is surprised to find out that Constantine has a daughter who is also involved in magic like her Father but an apparently more specialised kind called the Miraculous. He is a little miffed that he didn’t know about John having a daughter. He did consider it weird at first that she had a slight french accent unlike her father’s Liverpool accent although she pronounced some words like he does.

He also connected some dots that she is also the Parisian heroine, Lady Rouge who Wonder Woman introduced to the League a while back and had declined to join the Young Justice or Teen Titans until everything in Paris was resolved.

Curiosity Killed the Exorcist by @soulmate-game

“If those timelines are now-deleted, then I obviously don’t remember what’s so bad about telling me why you’re acting like I’m some hated family member you’re avoiding!”

Silence.

Pure. Fucking. Silence. As they all watch with front row seats as Marinette flinches at the word ‘family’.

Pure silence as Constantine’s shoulders drop at the sight of her flinch, realization slapping itself on his face.

“No.”

Locked Emotions by @musicfeedsmysoul12

This doesn’t actually have a title

So Marinette is angry and bitter and full of magic. She also does something super risky. Like John locking up his childhood innocence and such, she locks up her rage and anger and her knowledge of the truth. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

Becoming Ladybug is easy. She’s good at what she does and uses her own magic to help. John hears about what’s going on in Paris and goes looking. He sees Ladybug using magic and… that’s his family magic… oh.

Bio!Dad John Constantine by @multifandomscribette

(Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

They never developed a father-daughter relationship - neither particularly wanted one - but the mentor-mentee one worked out very well for them, and it did help both of them improve as people and ‘professionals’.

Marinette gave John a ladybug charm that she made, endowed with a lot of luck, since she know he has a dangerous job, though she never told him about what it can actually do. He doesn’t know about her being Ladybug and she likes it like that.

Remember some chapters are longer than others (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

Taglist:

@macerunner @maribat-central @batmanzplan @doll246 @leftguard66 @multplelifes @nugget-consumer-9000 @lostinday @ramos123 @seacashew @jeminiikrystal @wolfy-kat @kashlyn @anime-rae @literaryhiraeth @creampuff-mlbfics-finished @luminous-carrot @vixen-uchiha @khneltea @atomicsoph @heckofhell @cao0227 @ellerahs @demonicbusiness @celestial-slytherin-blog @luciferge @just-a-bottle-of-chaos @daddylonglegsfacts @theravenclawfangirl @jintana-critical @secretlawyercolorscissors @g-arya @sandraf0612 @mariloki4 @the-dumber-scaramouche @ranger-jedi-knight @fangirling-101 @iglowinggemma28 @seraphichana @unabashedbookworm

#dc x mlb #mlbxdc #mlb x dc #maribat fanfic #maribat au #maribat #maribat fics #bio!dad John Constantine #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat damian wayne #platonic jasonette #lila rossi salt

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macbethz · 10 months

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fuck it manchester black design tierlist

this man has never been drawn consistently in his LIFE so here are my opinions on them rated from best to worst

1. any Doug Mahnke

YOU CANT. OUTDO. THE DOER. Literally the og. this man has been drawing manchester black for 25 sluttly slutty years and shows no sign of stopping. my one complaint is that he has never drawn him with purple hair since his debut. #Sad!

2. Mike Perkins

Literally only drew him for a fraction of a single issue but I really loved it because it was a nice balance between his original design and the more scrawny design they've been going with recently. really keeping him looking pathetic while still bringing in the original facial structure of the mahnke look. he looks like hes high as balls. 10/10

3. DC animated

this is the design that brought him to the wider world and it really is so so good!!! I love how they incorporated the piercings and more punk elements despite those not being a huge part of his design before. Probably objectively the best design just in terms of like. shape language etc but i am a little comic biased what can i saw

4. Duncan Rouleau

I have to give this design credit for coining the percings and tripp pants look but unfortunately at this point in his career it seems Duncan had not yet mastered the human face and its very clear in every panel

5. Mikel Janin (and associated superman and the authority designs)

this design at first enamored me with morrisons writing and its skrunkly ratlike swag (which is especially visible in longer range shots and exaggerated expressions see image 2). but unfortunately he did turn Manchester into purple constantine for the remainder of the run and that i can not abide. the level of patheticness is so good but unfortunately Janin made the mistake of thinking he needed to be a twink to be that pathetic. incorrect! he now does not read as the same character!

6: Teen Titans

im not even calling out a specific artist here because they are all guilty to me. This design is so bad. I hate it so much. It bleeds 2014. it is SO early new 52 trying to hard to reinvent the wheel. why is his hair red. why is he supposedly 19. the redesigned tattoo is an interesting idea but it simply does not look good. i really hate that every time you google manchester black this specific image pops up like 20 times and its somehow even uglier than him in the normal art style of that comic. And you know DC wants to forget it too because they've basically pretended this comic never existed when discussing his past. also the comic run this was in characterized him so god-awfully that it made me physically ill

#does this matter to anyone. no. however I do what I want #warlock wartalks #Manchester black

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corvuserpens · 2 years

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My thoughts on Orpheus’ story in The Sandman

Okay, SO. After reading The Song of Orpheus, I’m like... Fucking hell.

I already knew our Dream Boi was a proud creature pre-capture, but THIS... This is a whole other level of asshattery. His own son, I’m soooo... WOW. Yeah, no wonder Calliope left him, lmao honestly girl fucking same.

This made me realize something, though. We already picked apart the reasons why Dream never asked for help when he was captured and they’re all valid reasons which I agree with: out of pride (that damned pride hhhhh), a king not wanting to appear weak before someone who could use this opportunity against him, etc, BUT...

Maybe another, albeit smaller reason why he went against requesting aid, is because he knows damn well that, were it anyone else who had been imprisoned in Death’s stead, ESPECIALLY someone he is currently angry with (Desire immediately comes to mind), then he wouldn’t have lifted a finger to help them. It’s like Calliope said: “in the old days you would have left me here to rot without turning a hair.” It’s what he does. Or, well, did. Even if it was his wife. Even if it was his son. He did it with Nada and, had he not have been captured by the Burgess, I’m now 100% sure he would not have gone to meet Hob in 1989. Just... Gods, he can be so heartless, it honestly shocks me.

The worst part of this whole story is right at the end, when Dream goes to find Orpheus’ severed head after he’d been torn apart by the Bacchae (which I am SO NOT looking forward to in the show, that was the most gruesome graphic shit I’ve seen in any medium ever), and once he’s done telling him that he will be looked after by some priests and that he won’t be seeing him again, he just... walks away. Throws that stupid line Orpheus said in his anger and grief about “no longer being his son” back in his face and simply turns his back on him while he calls to him and pleads for him not to leave him. He potentially abandons his child FOREVER and (presumably) doesn’t even give it a second thought.

“His father drifted away slowly, step by step, through the sand and seafoam. Orpheus looked on with tear-filled eyes until he lost sight of him. His father didn’t even deign himself to look back.” (Apologies if it’s not accurate, I’m translating it directly from the Portuguese version).

That is so haunting. It’s so bloody sad. So unnecessrily cruel, I... I can’t even... I don’t have the words to describe how heartbreaking reading this was. Just... DREAM. DREAM OF THE ENDLESS. FOR FUCK’S SAKE, HOW COULD YOU???

The fucking paralel between Orpheus looking back after going to so much trouble to rescue Eurydice only to lose her, and Dream NOT looking back not even once as he willingly abandons his only son to his fate is... immesurably painful. I wanted to cry so bad, this is insane. Even I could never write something so overwhelmingly cruel if I tried.

Well. That said. Let’s look at some positives: at least he didn’t leave Orpheus completely helpless. He did find some people to take care of him and keep him safe, and after he went missing, Dream enlisted Lady Constantine’s help to search for him and return him to the priests (little side note, I LOVE that Lady Johanna becomes friends with Orpheus, it’s cute). This is a little bit of consolation for me, the confirmation that, yes, even in his wrath, Dream still cares about Orpheus enough to do the bare minimum to assure his safety, even if Orpheus himself isn’t sure about it. I like to think so.

Unlike with Nada. Poor Nada.

And now that he’s free, I see that he’s come to understand how wrong he was to punish people the way he did, even if he needed a little help from Big Sis Death (and a baguette tossed on his head). He went down to hell to free Nada, I already know he will eventually find Orpheus and grant him the release of death bc spoilers (my fault entirely, I’ll admit). I don’t know how they’re gonna handle this story in the show, but one thing is for sure: I’m counting on it to be emotionally devastating.

In a way, being a prisoner in a fishbowl for over a hundred years might have been the best thing that ever happened to Dream. It was still evil and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone save for a few exceptions, but... yeah. It humbled him and taught him to distinguish what truly matters from the petty crap with zero value. And it forced him to grow up. He still has a long, long way to go, but at least he’s on the right path.

On a final note, it makes me both melt and LAUGH my ass off to discover Orpheus inherited a lot of Dream’s personality traits, such as, but not limited to: his pride, his pettiness, his STUBBORNNESS for sure, as well as his tendency to act on his emotions rather than logic, but also his hopeless romantic streak. Like father like son indeed. Adorable.

#The Sandman #the song of orpheus spoilers #comic spoilers #a Crow's rants #I'M NOT OKAY ALRIGHT THIS HAS WRECKED ME I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT ALL DAY

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