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Today I felt groggy and had cramps, so I slept until the evening.
In the evening, I took my clothes to the dry cleaning shop and then went out to eat Asian food with my husband. All the food was delicious and I wanted to eat more, but I'll save that for another time.






#food#japan#asian food#mie goreng#ajillo#fried rice#shrimps#vegetables#green onion#shimeji#coriander#highball#clums#sambal#dinner#diary
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Do you accept? 🤠
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so i knew that hatoful boyfriend was weird af apart from the initial concept but. uh. protag lives in a cave. broken down skyscraper. it seems the birds can't fly???
#hatoful boyfriend#i know it's been 15 years but nobirdie spoil me#i love that there's apparently an option to have humanized portraits for the birds like why.#are the birds bigger than ours because it would be so dangerous for them t0o share the same space as a human. we're big and heavy and clums#the parakeet in the cafe spoke about 'his cage'???#also my protag is named daniil danka because i have too much patho-posts on my dash sorry
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d r a w n t o g e t h e r, 2004-07 📺 created by dave jeser, matt silverstein [clum babies, s2ep5] 'Ling-Ling's Arranged Battle Arrives'
#animated sitcom#drawn together#dave jeser#matt silverstein#drawn Together Season 2#Clum Babies#Ling Ling#Arranged Battle
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i know there is cultural context but it will never cease to amaze me that when faced with people thinking bobby was gay george furth's solution was to add a scene explicitly confirming that bobby has had gay sex*. like what exactly was the thought process there king
#*has had “homosexual experiences”. so genuinely just semantics#again i KNOW the thought process i wrote a paper on it#but also. dude#it is incredible how badly those two men want bobby to be straight and how badly they have failed at writing that over and over again#i do sort of think they just didn't fully understand the show they wrote. like down to sondheim's opinions on the most recent revival#whatever! all the better for me. & my bestie john clum#ted talks#company
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Plum x Coral


#splatoon#oc art#traditional art#splatoon ocs#splatoon 3#plum(ex rival octo)#coral (salmonling)#Clum/Poral
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my face when i listen to music so loud i start hearing ringing in my ear
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she's lucky the dog she stepped on was a golden because all he thought was "are you okay" even though he got stomped on the spine
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d r a w n t o g e t h e r, 2004-07 📺 created by dave jeser, matt silverstein [clum babies, s2ep5] 'Bar Battle'
#animated sitcom#drawn together#dave jeser#matt silverstein#drawn Together Season 2#Clum Babies#Ling Ling#Bar Battle
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30 MINUTES REMAINING!!!
RODY'S MAKESHIP PLUSHIE PETITION IS ENDING SOON!
Please go pledge and support us devs & guarantee yourself a Rody Plush if you were planning to but haven't already! Let's see how many we can get till the very end!!!
#dead plate#dead plate game#dead plate rody#rody lamoree#studio investigrave#makeship#racheldrawsthis
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Hiiiii I absolutely love ur one shots especially the snoring or sucking one,so cute!!!!!!
Soooo I wanted to request a joostxreader where joost is tired from all his work and the reader is also tired from her work,so the reader decide to take turn in massaging each other but when it comes to joost turn to massage the reader,her back is very sensitive so she keeps moaning and it escalates into something more than a massage 😍
Feel free to ignore this if u don’t like it!!!!
Also I absolutely love when someone is crashing me with their weight so I like the massage scenario cause well he’s sitting on the reader back (idk😔)
NECESSARY TIREDNESS



pairing: joost klein x fem!reader
word count: 3,279
warning: fluff, smut, spanking, dirty talking, fingering
description: just the request!!
author’s note: I had to make it up to you somehow, and most importantly I had to start working of some requests (i’m sooooooooo slow).
thank you so much anon for this request and the compliments, i love youu!!! your freaky minds mirror mine, don’t worry.
enjoy your reading!!! hope you like it, let me know what you think!
big kisses!
(sorry if there are grammatical errors, I tried my best, English is not my first language!!!🙏)
——————————————————————
The book I had promised myself I’d read -the one that had been buried in the old bookshelf of the apartment I shared with my boyfriend- ended up shamefully abandoned in the rumpled sheets, right next to the spot my body had occupied just seconds before I got up, lured by the sound of keys turning in the front door lock.
I tiptoed to the living room, peeking silently from the hallway and catching a glimpse of my boyfriend’s exhausted figure as he finally made it home.
He locked the door behind him and let out a curse under his breath, making me stifle a giggle as I tilted my head to watch him better: Baggy jeans, the heavy jacket, and the cap he’d been wearing constantly lately.
The scent of his arrival filled the house, that familiar smell that always managed to calm me, the one I found myself searching for everywhere and that I only ever truly rediscovered in our love nest.
His tired eyes landed on my hidden silhouette, and his face slowly gave way to a soft smile.
“Hey, baby” he murmured toward me, before setting the house keys down on the usual cabinet, shrugging off his heavy coat, and taking off the dark cap, as if even the fabric against his skin had started to bother him.
He was left in just his jeans and a plain black t-shirt, which you could tell from a mile away had survived the chaos of the music world.
It was a really stressful time for Joost: barely home, juggling the release of his new album, the tour, and a bunch of video shoots that kept him busy for entire days.
I missed him and we often ended up slipping into small arguments born out of that tension.
-“You were supposed to do the dishes and forgot.”-
-“You said you’d text me after work, but you didn’t.”-
-“You didn’t hang the laundry like you said you would.”-
-“You said you’d buy more detergent, but if I don’t do it, no one will.”-
You know, the everyday stuff couples bicker about.
I’d been pretty busy myself lately: work was overwhelming, stress piling up on my shoulders and the only thing I wanted the moment I got home was to disappear into my boyfriend’s arms, laugh about nothing, count the moles on his skin like they were stars in a constellation.
And more often than not, those weren’t wishes that could be granted.
But apparently, that day, luck was on my side.
I’d left work early, treated myself to a relaxing bath, and now I got to watch my boyfriend come home before ten at night. A miracle.
“I’m so tired” he mumbled with a sigh, heading toward me and down the hallway, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it, only to mess it up even more.
I walked barefoot to meet him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as his hands instinctively settled on my hips, both of us still moving forward, unwilling to let go.
Our clumsy steps brought us to the bathroom door, where Joost looked down at me with a smile and brushed a hand against my cheek.
“I was hoping you’d be home” he admitted, nudging his nose against my forehead before catching my lips in a kiss. I hummed quietly, rising on my toes and letting my hands glide over his warm shoulders, savoring the closeness.
“I was hoping you’d come home early” I whispered back, playfully nipping at his lower lip and pulling him even closer. Like if I let go, he might disappear.
I was wearing only a pair of panties and one of his white shirts, every time I hugged him or stood on tiptoe, the thin fabric slipped and revealed patches of bare skin, giving Joost’s hands all the room they needed. He gripped my bare waist, sending shivers down my spine and leaned in again, trailing soft, lingering kisses on my lips, savoring the moment between each one just to look at me, to admire me.
“Mmm, you stink” I teased with a giggle, sticking my tongue out playfully, which he caught gently between his lips and bit without pressure before replying.
“Thanks for the heads-up. Had really no idea” he said, letting his hand sneak down to grab a bare cheek.
“If my favorite little leech lets me go for just a second, I’ll take a shower and then I’m all yours” he whispered warmly, his voice scratchy with fatigue but softened by the love that laced every word.
“Without this leech, who knows under which bridge you’d be living” I shot back, my teasing clear and his laugh that followed proved I’d hit the mark. I relaxed my arms and let him go, planting another kiss on his lips before I stepped away.
“I really should thank you” he said with the same playful tone, taking advantage of the fact that I’d turned to walk back to the bedroom: his hand landing gently on my exposed butt, the soft slap echoing faintly. I giggled and let out a dramatic little groan, pretending to complain as I made my way back to our bed, crawling under the sheets and trying to pick up the thread of the book I’d abandoned.
After what felt like endless minutes, I saw him walk into the room wearing a bathrobe wrapped around his body and a towel draped over his hair. He threw me a glance with those soft, little eyes of his, carrying with them a familiar kind of tenderness.
“So tired you turned to reading?” he said as he rummaged through the underwear drawer, eventually grabbing a random pair of boxers.
I shifted my legs under the blanket and rolled my eyes toward the ceiling, biting back a smile by pressing my lips together.
“Wanna bet my plan to give you a massage is slowly disappearing?” I raised an eyebrow, closing the book and letting it rest on the nightstand , this time for good. The only thing on my mind now was indulging in some well-deserved affection with the Dutch man standing by our bed.
“Oh my God, yes please baby, I need it” his eyes practically lit up as he looked at me, almost pleading, before dropping the towel and slipping into the pair of boxers he’d just picked up.
“What now? You begging the leech for a shoulder rub?” I teased, sitting up on the mattress while he groaned in protest, mumbling some incoherent mix of words as he let himself fall onto the bed.
“You’re submissive for a massage” I whispered with a smirk, lowering my tone, running a hand through his damp hair before leaning down to press a light kiss to his cheek.
“I’ll give you one later” he muttered, letting his eyes slowly roam over my half exposed body. He reached out and let his thumb trail gently along my bare thigh.
I nodded, recognizing the unspoken agreement and caught his rough hand with mine.
“Come here” I said softly, moving my hand away from his messy hair. I sat cross-legged, waiting for the slow, lazy bear to settle himself in front of me.
I placed my hands on his tense shoulders and helped him relax into me. I loosened my legs, resting them on either side of his torso, comfortably against my abdomen. His arms wrapped around my knees, his hands lazily caressing my calves and his face tilted up to meet my gaze.
“Relax, love” I whispered, my fingers kneading the muscles in his shoulders, pulling a low, guttural moan from his throat as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, letting the tension melt from his body.
“yes baby” I breathed out, letting my thumbs travel to the nape of his neck and then down along his arms. Every spot I touched, I moved gently, slowly, not forcing anything, just trying to work out the stress and exhaustion that had built up over the long, relentless days behind us.
The room was filled only with the sound of our steady breathing, and the occasional soft smack of kisses I leaned down to give him: on his face, often on his lips. I kept massaging him for a solid ten minutes, while his hands caressed from my ankle to my knee, mimicking the pressure I was applying to his shoulders, as if to hint at what he was planning to do next.
“Turn around, baby, and take off your shirt” he murmured, letting go of my legs and shifting on the bed, now kneeling on the mattress. His eyes lingered first on my face, then slowly dropped to my body which didn’t hesitate to obey, slipping off the shirt and collapsing face down onto the bed with a soft sigh.
“Be gentle” I warned, resting my arms at my sides and almost instinctively pressing my breast into the plushness of the mattress to hide it.
“As if I don’t know that already” he replied with a breathy chuckle that cradled my ears and gave me the reassurance I needed to close my eyes and trust him. He straddled me, and I felt the weight of his hips settle against the curve of my backside, his hands placing themselves on my back, right between my shoulder blades.
He began to move his tattooed fingers gently, drawing from me nothing but soft moans and light sighs. My muscles tensed beneath his touch, and my shoulders curled in reaction.
“Breathe, you’re a bundle of nerves” he said, his voice dangerously close to my ear, a clear sign he had leaned down against my body. A cascade of shivers ran down my spine, and Joost’s hands took that as encouragement.
He kept gliding them down the length of my spine, reaching the dimples just above my hips, then pressing softly but firmly as he traced his way back up toward my shoulders. A louder moan slipped past my lips, echoing like a quiet confession that reached his ears.
The more he realized he could draw those sounds from me, the more he caressed and kneaded my back. I could feel the full weight of his body pressing into the curve of my ass, and that pressure only intensified the heat pulsing through me, settling insistently between my thighs and dampening the fabric of my underwear.
“A massage isn’t the only thing you need to relax, huh?” he muttered, halting the movements of his hands as his lips brushed over the sensitive skin of my neck, stealing a sigh that had been caught in my throat.
I bit my bottom lip and arched my back just slightly, barely grinding against his hips.
“Answer me” he whispered again against my skin, gradually leaving a trail of teasing bites that marked a chaotic path down my back. I opened my eyes for a second, catching a glimpse of him from the corner of my gaze, only to close them again when he rose off me and then came the smack. A sharp slap to one cheek, followed by a firm squeeze.
“You already know the answer” I mumbled, the words muffled against the pillow I was now gripping tightly with one hand. Another slap landed, this time on the other cheek, followed by the soothing stroke of a palm, easing the sting with gentle pressure.
“Tell me you want to be fucked” he said, voice oddly calm, as he leaned down with the full weight of his body pressing into my ass. I could feel his erection, growing and insistent, the need between us undeniable and building fast.
I let out a quiet, breathy laugh and clenched the pillow harder, feeling exposed and feverish.
How long had it been since we last had sex? A week? It felt like it.
Suddenly, his hand tangled shamelessly in my hair, yanking my head back and forcing me to arch my spine.
“Say it” his voice rasped close to my ear, and I let out a sharp moan at the tight grip, clutching the pillow even harder and wetting my lips.
“I want it. Fuck me..” I breathed out the words in a half-whisper, barely more than air in the room but they reached him, completely.
He let go of my hair only to bring that same hand around my neck. He didn’t squeeze too hard, just held me steady as he kissed me open-mouthed along my shoulder and into the hollow of my neck, licking hungrily and adding sharp bites that would soon bloom red on my skin.
I closed my eyes, parted my lips, and let out obscene sounds from the overwhelming stimulation prickling through every part of my body. He began grinding slowly against my ass and gently guided my head back down to the pillow, loosening the hold on my neck as his lips traveled the length of my back.
I bit down on my lower lip and released a hot, sex-laced sigh that seemed to stain the white walls of our bedroom. He grabbed the edge of my panties and pulled them slowly upward, creating delicious friction between the soaked fabric and my dripping sex. I squeezed my thighs together and lifted my hips slightly.
“Please, Joost” I murmured, right before the third slap landed on my ass. I jolted from the sensitivity and held my breath.
Without another word, I felt him rise off me and walk to the bedside drawer. He pulled out a condom and tossed it onto the bed near my nearly naked body.
I watched him: the way his hands moved, his flushed cheeks, his heaving chest, his hair almost completely dry but still messy. Our eyes met, and he gave me one of his warmest smiles, the kind that made me curl inward and bury half my face into my hands.
Every time, it felt like the first time. I was so deeply in love with how he loved me.
“You’re beautiful” he said as he climbed back onto the bed, leaning over me to reach the side of my face.
His hand slid between my legs, under my panties and began moving his middle and ring fingers over my entrance, which clenched around nothing the moment I felt his touch.
I muttered something chiding, overwhelmed by how he made me feel, only to be answered with a kiss on my shoulder and a soft laugh, followed by a playful bite.
Then he slid those two fingers inside me from behind, and I tensed, eyes rolling back as raw, instinctive moans left my throat.
“One day, I swear I’ll sample these sounds in one of my songs” he groaned against the tender skin of my neck, never stopping the slow thrusting of his fingers.
I blushed hard, letting the heat flood my face.
“You perv” I whispered through a breathless laugh, cut off by a loud, guttural moan as he smacked my already flushed right cheek, harder this time.
“The same perv you’re begging to fuck you, that’s some real consistency” he teased again, but I let his words slip through my fingers and answered only with more needy, gasping moans.
He pulled his hand out of my panties that didn’t take off, just moved them to the side, revealing what he wanted. I turned my head as much as I could to look at him, and our eyes locked again.
My heart stuttered in my chest from the sheer love I felt for him in that moment.
He knelt on the bed, gripped my hips, and lifted them slightly, making my back arch on instinct. I heard him let out a sigh of pleasure at the sight, probably one of his favorites, since he never failed to tell me how much he loved it.
He pulled off the boxers he had just put on, freeing his erection, painfully hard and throbbing. I shifted my hips, waiting for him to bury himself inside me while he was putting on the condom. Finally, we connected and though our mouths were apart, our breaths merged into one long, trembling sigh. I tightened around his length as he began to move, slow at first, sweet, careful but deep.
He leaned over me as he thrust deeper, our bodies echoing with wet, shameless sounds.
His fingers tangled in my hair again, gently turning my head to the side: my lips spilled moans and my eyes fluttered halfway closed from the pleasure flooding through me. He kissed my cheek, my lips as best he could, then focused on my neck and shoulders, biting and kissing with hunger.
He tugged my hair tighter and pressed my face into the pillow, increasing the force of his movements. They were messy now, hard and fast, driven by something deeper than lust. Our moans grew louder, blending into one another. My lower back ached but I didn’t care. It only amplified my arousal, building the climax that was beginning to form in my core.
“Let go… it’s okay” he groaned against my shoulder, leaving a bite there that I knew would last for days.
I was overstimulated, lost in him and his thrusts grew harder, matching the rhythm my body needed to fall apart. I shut my eyes tight, my leg muscles tensed and Joost’s hands now held firmly onto my hips, gripping hard enough to leave red marks.
“I love you y/n… I’ll never stop loving you”he whispered and that’s what pushed me over the edge.
My orgasm crashed into me. My hands gripped the bedsheet, my face buried in the pillow, my hips locked tight while his length kept pounding into me without pause.
I rode the wave, trembling and didn’t relax until I felt him finish too, thick and deep into the condom, slowing his thrusts as he collapsed over me. One of his hands clenched the bedsheet, the other sought mine.
“Fuck… fuck” he breathed, his mouth open, staying buried inside me for a few seconds longer before pulling out, removing the condom and tossing it in the bin beside the bed.
I let my hips go slack, groaning from the soreness in my lower back.
“You okay?” Joost’s completely spent body slid beside mine, his hand brushing softly through my hair as he motioned for me to come lie against his chest.
I accepted his invitation immediately. I moved with a bit of pain, wrapping an arm around his torso and resting my head on his chest, tangling our legs together.
“Yeah… I’m perfect” I murmured, lifting my eyes to him, taking in the sweat on his forehead, the exhaustion in his eyes and the smile still tugging at his lips.
“I love you too” I replied in the same low tone, leaning in a little to silently ask for a kiss. He lifted a hand to gently caress my cheek, and met my lips with his.
He pressed a few quick kisses to my lips, each one landing with a loud little pop that made me laugh.
“I should put this beautiful laugh in a song, too” he murmured against my lips, not stopping the soft rhythm of them brushing against his.
“Don’t even think about it” I warned, pulling back gently just enough to look him in the eyes, trying to pass off a serious look.
It only made him laugh: that sweet, boyish laugh of his.
Not that it mattered. He was going to do it anyway.
Sooner or later he would come home with a song made from my moans and laughter, only to see me embarrassed.
#joost klein x reader#joost x reader#joost fanfic#joost x you#fanfic#fanficz#joost klein smut#joost klein x y/n#joost klein fluff#joost klein x you#joost klein fanfic#joost klein rpf#joost klein real person fiction#requestsloth#j
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nelkirs like im a real big fan of this scene i just love the blood its so goopy and silly and vivs like Is Diana Okay. Where Is She Now.
i think viv watches horror and absolutely doesnt get it. she watxhes saw and absolutely doesnt feel anything about it until diana starts crying and then she starts crying but then the exact frame diana is off screen her tears dry up. these dudes can handle themselves
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First Impressions of Netflix Sandman Season 2
Okay, I need to get this off my chest. Some people might know I’m the resident comics geek in here, but I’m not a comics purist. I liked the changes they made to S1 because they all made narrative and emotional sense to me, and despite some softening around the edges, it all felt true to the story to me.
And that was one of the reasons why I went into Season 2 with such high hopes and so much excitement. And I did like S2 as a sort of standalone thing.
But I also have a lot of thoughts about it as an adaptation, and I don’t know what happened there. Well, I guess I do because I expected compressing it so much would lead to some fallout. And I would’ve been okay with that. But it’s the emotional core of the story that has changed, and in my mind not always in a good way (people are obviously free to disagree). But one thing after another. Slight spoilers under the cut…
The Disjointed Feeling
The pacing feels completely off. We’re jumping a lot between storylines without giving any of them space to breathe, especially in Season of Mists. And it felt a bit like checking boxes? As an example, Lucifer’s abdication was rushed through like it was just another plot point. The new Nada arc (I call it new because it has so little resemblance to the original one that I can’t call it anything else) also felt rushed. For me, it was really hard to feel invested in their story, but that’s not just because of the overall disjointed feel, and I’ll get to it later.
Brief Lives fared marginally better in terms of letting the story breathe, but I think that’s also down to its overall narrative structure in the comics, which obviously supports that. And while I loved that we got Wanda, it felt like fan-service but otherwise just… stale? Because we completely scrapped AGoY, and it honestly felt a bit like, “But we need to make sure we still shoehorn in the fan-favourite trans-character somehow.” Honestly, Wanda deserved so much better than being this type of checkbox, and at this rate, it felt like doing her a disservice. But again, people are free to disagree.
I guess what I’m trying to say is: I get they had to condense it and that their hands were tied in a way. But it felt like condensing while still trying to cram in too much? I think volume 1 would have benefitted from cutting certain stuff to give other, more important beats more breathing space so it doesn’t feel like getting whiplash half of the time.
They’re Making Dream… Sorta Nice?
This is the big one for me. They’re softening Morpheus into oblivion (no pun intended), and it’s killing what makes him such a compelling character. In the comics, Dream is actually terrifying and horrible very often and not one bit in touch with his feelings (and for a good reason). I know that everyone loves the sad wet cat meme of Morpheus in the rain, but that’s his theatrics and drama, which are only part of his emotional core. Morpheus hides/supresses his true emotions 95% of the time until he can’t anymore and they burst to the surface in the most maladjusted ways. He also doesn’t talk about them like he’s in friggin’ therapy. That’s all good and well for fanfic, I do it as well because it’s fun, but that’s not his emotional core. That’s us trying to fix him.
And Netflix!Dream in S2 felt like a massive fix-it fanfic to me. Maybe that’s why so many people don’t seem to care because Tumblr obviously laps up these tropes, don’t know. It’s also understandable that people who haven’t read the comics won’t even notice, and that’s also okay. Netflix!Morpheus is a very different character from comics!Morpheus, and that wouldn’t be a problem, but the narrative tension stops working if you still try to cram him into largely intact comics plot. In the show, he gets a million beats where he’s clearly meant to be sympathetic, where the camera lingers on his face so we can see how much he’s hurting™️, where he has conversations with Lucienne that feel like the clumsiest exposition ever to mAkE us UNderStaNd because we’re apparently stupid and can’t figure out stuff or emotional subtext for ourselves (that already annoyed me in S1 btw). But the whole point of Morpheus is that he doesn’t SHOW that hurt. He buries it under duty and pride and quiet rage until it all comes exploding out in the worst possible ways. Netflix!Dream has been cracked open right from the start, and I honestly hated a little how far they took that in S2, despite already getting hints at it in S1. None of this should have been truly visible before the end of act 2 (the end of Brief Lives—that’s where he cracks open), bar a few subtle hints (there are obviously a few bits in SoM that are largely inner monologue).
And even then: Can we talk about the wash bowl scene? Just no, sorry. I had expected that scene to rip me to shreds and turn me into a blubbering wreck because it still does in the comics. But I didn’t shed a single tear, and it left me strangely underwhelmed because I honestly felt… that’s not Morpheus? Apologies to everyone who loved Tom’s performance there, but I just really didn’t. And I wanted to 🥺 That’s no reflection on anyone’s acting, because the acting as such was great. It’s just a character that’s barely Morpheus anymore. He’s this:

I totally get how it could be argued that the emotional outburst is in tune with releasing grief, so if people prefer that, I can see and understand why. To me, the quiet grief away from everyone was always more powerful though. Because it’s enough. It’s someone who hasn’t allowed himself to connect to that truthful, deep part of himself while theatrics and drama are much more of a an openly acknowledged part of him. That’s why I find the chair scene so powerful (and I’m PISSED we didn’t really get it)—because it’s quiet and truthful. The wild scrubbing and howling is much more Morpheus the drama queen for me, but I get that I’ll be alone with that, and I’m okay with it 🤣
Which brings me to: The way they handled his relationship with Orpheus was particularly off for me. Comics!Dream’s guilt over his son is like an infected wound that he never lets anyone see. Netflix!Dream practically wears it on his sleeve after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing. Netflix!Dream is also painted as far more noble than comics!Dream. It feels like they’re setting him up for the heroic sacrifice only, and to me, that honestly stinks a little because I’ll call it what it is: mischaracterisation. But since I also know that screenwriters aren’t that dense, I’ll call it what it really is: making him more palatable for the mainstream audience.
The Emotional Core
The thing that makes Sandman special is that it is about stories and grief and the volatility and instability of dreams and the terrible weight of existing for too long. It is about change and the fear of change and how sometimes the only way is to break everything you used to be. But Netflix!Dream in S2 already is all of what he’s supposed to become, at least in a roundabout way. That’s why the conflict feels forced, because everyone around him still treats him like comics!Dream. It lacks deeper emotional resonance. It’s all surface emotional manipulation and layers it on so thick that for me, it was bordering on corny in parts (I wasn’t too keen on the additions to the dialogue with Orpheus at the end).
Or Nada. Don’t get me started. The whole sending her to Hell for 10,000 years barely makes sense anymore, because it was presented as a genuine choice. He was just “a bit pissy” she didn’t choose him and then didn’t rescue her, but she made the choice herself and basically suggested it first. Of course Hell in the Sandman is a place we send ourselves, and it was also implied in the comics that she could have walked away at any point had she just forgiven herself for the fate of her people. But it was Morpheus who planted the seed for that in the first place. In the show, they basically made it Nada’s choice from the outset.
Also: That he basically proposed and said he won’t bother her any further if she said no? Yeah, about that one. He’s so nice, isn’t he? Not at all the guy who could never take no for an answer, and hunted her down like a crazed stalker when she was both alive and dead.
It was just really weird revisionism of a story that originally had misogynistic and coercive undertones. I get why they removed them, but the problem is that they now fail to connect coherently with the story beats they kept intact.
In SoM, Lucifer’s character work was stunning (Gwen was great with what she was given), but it existed in isolation—it didn’t really connect to the broader themes about power and responsibility and the cost of ruling. It was all a hand wave.
I know that all sounds like I absolutely hated it, which I really didn’t. On its own, it’s okay. But I feel it’s just okay so far, while I thought S1 was great. S2 had many moments that absolutely did connect (I’ll just say Calliope and Johanna—they both made me sniffle), but moments don’t make a season. I’m a tad worried that the show has lost sight of what made the source material so special, in favour of making it more accessible to mainstream audiences (well, it’s Netflix, of course they would, but S1 was so much better). Sandman isn’t supposed to be “accessible”. It’s supposed to be challenging and weird and uncomfortable, and that’s what ultimately makes it beautiful.
I’ll keep watching, of course. I’m too invested not to, and maybe things will grow on me when I rewatch. But right now it feels like they’re adapting the plot of Sandman without understanding why that plot matters.
Maybe I’m being too harsh. Maybe I need to let the season breathe and see how it all comes together. But right now, it feels like they’re giving us a beautiful, well-acted shadow of something that is so much more.
Did anyone else feel like something was missing?
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