#dysfunctional endless family

[lightdancer1]

It's one of the stranger ironies of Death as a sibling that one of her biggest flaws just gets overlooked:

There are, of course, reasons for that. Why? Because it's specifically connected to this sibling, one of those underappreciated in comics, show, and fandom alike:

You do see Death at different points with other siblings, or at least statements. She is there with Destiny, Dream, Destruction, Desire, and is noted to spend a lot of time doing things like watching Disney movies with Delirium (no joke, this is a line Delirium casually notes in Brief Lives). Despair? She's never around her at all, outside of a family gathering. This is a consistent rule and I think there's a very direct reason for that.

"It made me sad, you know. I mean, I was sad too much of the time. I thought about giving it up-walking out. And one day I did."

I've mentioned before that between this and her dialogue in the series proper, and even arguably in her miniseries given she very arguably engineered an entire situation purely to have a character tell her she loved her. It's not really a subtext there that Death is clearly smitten by Hazel MacNamara and it indicates she does have a type and what that type is.

On the whole, Death is very much a character who's marked by depression, by the ultimate awareness that she does her job in the end not because she really wants to, because she saw the alternative 'and it wasn't very nice.' Her entire arc is marked not by success in abilities to navigate what she is, but failure.

The Endless, at their core, are personifications, ideas that have complications in all ways from being who and what they are. But and admittedly Death's spectacular example might have shaped his approach there but even so, there is this single truth. None of the other Endless broke beneath the weight of her job like Death did. None of them tried to stop being what they are, none of the others, like she can, will one day be able to treat the job as one complete with punching out at the end of a shift.

So for a being that broke in what was essentially a depression-induced breakdown and went back rather unwillingly, to be around the very concept of despair and depression could potentially either reactivate all that or break open that mask she's so carefully built.

Does this justify her neglect of her younger sister? Not exactly, as the approach she's taken to coping with her own challenges is anything but healthy. She's not entirely truthfully cheerful, she's more of a Stepford smiler as TV Tropes would define it, a smile frozen in a professional work grimace while the actual person beneath it is not doing very well at all. Despair, with her mirrors, would expose too much of that truth and Death cannot quite take that risk.

And yet, in the end, Death is at her very worst as a sibling, and as a person, with Despair of the Endless who is shown to have a further ironic parallel with Death herself. Out of the three youngest siblings Despair is the kindest and the gentlest. Like Death and Destruction she labors beneath a function that asks terrible things, unlike either of the other two she, after her murder and her own death, has made her peace with it, too.

And I think too for Despair there'd be a further factor as well, probably a lesser one. Despair (and then Daniel-Dream) showcase that her siblings can die, that truth that one day she shall have to do a part of her job she'd hate most. It does, in the absence of anything to show otherwise, seem probable that the neglect predates that and it'd probably be a thing where the one and only time the old Despair and Death spoke would have been in the wake of her murder.

And as far as what I've noted with Desire, one of the most obvious roots of their mutual antagonism with Death would be this very pattern, that Death speaks to them in threats and treats Despair as someone to be shunned and avoided, because if there is one unfettered soft spot even with the Desire of the comics, it is their concern for their twin sister.

This is one of her most obvious flaws, it is if anything a complete antithesis to her relationship with Dream, and yet it almost never comes up and there's something fascinating in that. Despair deserves better.

[nobody-is-evil]

Dream Receives a Letter

Summary: Instead of my name, I leave you my phone number. You should know that I am a guy. Please only call if you would date a guy as seriously as you have dated girls.

Your Nervous Admirer,

(XXX)-XXX-XXXX

Dream reread the words over and over again. Would he? He didn’t know.

Written for the Dreamling Nation Valentine’s Week. This is will be reblogged with the link to this fic on ao3.

Warning for unhealthy attitude towards food from the paragraph starting with “Dream had gotten his breakfast” to the one starting with “Dream stayed safe in his room”.

February. Valentine’s season.

In past years, Hob often had a date for Valentine’s Day. They’d never been anything but childish flings, though. Somehow, he insulted his partner, or they insulted him, and the two of them broke it off soon after—sometimes on Valentine’s Day. He couldn’t remember most of their names.

Sophomore year, Hob had come very, very close to having a partner for Valentine’s Day—a long-term one, at that! But Eleanor moved away in early February, and by then they’d already broken up after she decided she wouldn’t be able to keep up their relationship long-distance.

He spent the day that year sadly tending to Robyn, the oak sapling they’d planted in Hob’s yard. Eleanor had been so excited to watch him grow...

Junior year was different. Last year, the pain of the hellhole he escaped (the less said about it, the better) was still fresh, even months later. Not exactly the best frame of mind to be dating.

Not that that was common knowledge—most people would’ve described him as a happy, optimistic golden retriever. Only one person had known differently: The first person to show him kindness after the hellhole and his best friend, Dream.

Who Hob might’ve, sort of, kind of had a massive crush on at the time. And who might’ve, sort of, kind of gotten a girlfriend soon after Hob and Dream became friends.

Hob still didn’t understand why Dream had been so infatuated with his girlfriend. Thessaly was—how to put this—more disinterested in men than Hob thought possible. She was a 7 on the Kinsey Scale. Had to be, in order to miss how gorgeous Dream was. How neither of them had seen it, Hob didn’t know. But then, Dream had always had bad luck with relationships.

6 girlfriends, and not a single relationship had ended without massively upsetting Dream. Hob couldn’t see the sense in most of them—who would leave Dream for another guy? Who could break up with him over an accident, no matter how tragic? Who could date him just to sleep with him? Who could fall out of love with him? Who could date him without realizing she was a lesbian?

(Answers, in order: Killala, Calliope, Titania, Alianora, and Thessaly.)

(Nada...was different. But Dream’d changed since then. He wouldn’t do that again.)

Okay, so maybe Hob thought about Dream’s past relationships a lot. It was only natural to be upset on Dream’s behalf. If Dream was Hob’s boyfriend—

Nope, nope, nope, he couldn’t think like that. Dream was straight.

Well.

The thing was, all he had to go off of for that was that Dream had just never told him otherwise. That didn’t actually mean Dream for sure didn’t like men.

But Hob didn’t want to risk ruining their friendship. It was a little selfish—after he’d had to leave all his friends behind at his old school, the only true friend he’d been able to make at this school was Dream.

It was also out of concern for Dream. The last time they’d seriously fought had been the worst. When Dream refused to speak to Hob, well, that didn’t mean Hob had stopped caring about him, and it had been easy to tell—to him, anyway—that it was eating at Dream. If calling them friends had gotten that reaction, what would Hob confessing his love do?

No. Just like last year, Hob couldn’t do anything to show Dream that Hob was in love with him.

And that was final.

No way around it.

Period.

...

But as the holiday drew closer and closer, as the dating talk became inescapable, Hob found that he couldn’t stop thinking of ways he could do it while avoiding most, if not all of the consequences he was afraid of.

So here he was, writing a letter that he didn’t plan on signing.

Handwriting a letter to his best friend that he wanted to be anonymous seemed like a bad idea at first glance, but not when Hob’s usual handwriting was rushed. If he took his time and slowly wrote every letter in every word so they were all nice and neat, it looked like it was written by a completely different person.

He did have to start over several times whenever he wanted to erase something. Would using an eraser change Dream’s answer, maybe not, but Hob had to start over anyway.

Most of it ended up being him waxing poetic about Dream. Even if Hob was able to confess to Dream without the poetry, it could only help to stroke Dream’s ego—especially in places it wasn’t usually stroked.

...

Moving on.

The last sentence contained Hob’s instructions for getting in contact with him. It may have also seemed silly for an anonymous letter, but in his opinion, it was sillier to send it without. If he got an anonymous love letter that asked him if he could love the author, well, he wouldn’t know. For all he knew, they could be catfishing him.

So in lieu of a name, Dream would be getting Hob’s phone number. Considering he already had this info, Hob had downloaded an app that gave him a different one, one with the area code of the town he now lived in rather than the one from when he got his phone. Dream would see a number that could be most of his classmates—but not Hob.

Of course, just leaving the number would still defeat the purpose. Dream would call, he would hear Hob’s voice, and Hob still wouldn’t know if Dream even liked men. Even if he asked Dream to text instead, they were still close enough that he couldn’t discount Dream figuring out it was him too quickly. No, there had to be a condition on it. He finished the letter.

Instead of my name, I leave you my phone number. You should know that I am a guy. Please only call if you would date a guy as seriously as you have dated girls.

Your Nervous Admirer,

(XXX)-XXX-XXXX

There was a chance Dream would call anyway. He was curious like that. But more often than not, Dream followed instructions just because they were given, as long as they weren’t from one of his parents or a person he similarly disliked.

That didn’t always mean he would do as intended, though. Dream’s interpretation skills sometimes hit the mark and sometimes missed. Hob was as clear as he dared without using language Dream might not be familiar with.

This was all probably for nothing. Most likely, Dream would get to the part where his admirer was a man and discard it all on the basis of being 100% straight. He’d had six girlfriends before he was 18 that all left him devastated when they ended. He’d never said a word about being anything but straight even after Hob came out to him. He had to have thought about it. Dream had clearly just...decided he was straight, or to never tell anyone he wasn’t. He wouldn’t admit to liking men by answering a random love letter.

Hob stared at the completed letter.

No, that was the devil talking. He’d written the thing, and he was going to send it, for a reason—for he had a chance, and he wouldn’t stop being able to think about it if he didn’t take that chance.

—Line Break—

Dream woke suddenly, without knowing why.

Then he heard the excited squealing.

He rolled over and pressed the pillow against his ears, futilely. Ugh. Why was Desire so enthusiastic about Valentine’s Day when they weren’t even interested in romance?

Unfortunately, he knew the answer to that question: They were nosy, and this holiday was a great way to figure out what people wanted.

He let out a sigh, his morning already ruined, and got up for school.

Making himself presentable wasn’t high on his list of priorities. He tended to sleep in the clothes he planned to wear the next day, rather than change in the morning. He didn’t see the point in brushing his hair when it looked good as it was. As long as he wore deodorant and made sure his clothes were still reasonably clean, Dream thought he was decent enough to be seen in public (considering girls would inevitably find him attractive and guys would inevitably envy him anyway) and therefore decent enough to attend Family Breakfast.

Sometimes, he wished he could take longer so he could get to breakfast after his siblings had already left. It would make everyone happier...except Death. Death would only have to pout at him, and he’d go back to coming to breakfast on time the next day. It had happened before.

Dream had gotten his breakfast (coffee cake and a glass of chocolate milk, perfect for his sweet tooth) and sat down before he realized how quiet it was.

...why were all of his siblings staring at him?

“Is that food on your plate?” Desire asked. At Dream’s bewildered nod, they continued, “What have you done with our Dream? He would never eat breakfast without prodding.”

While Dream kept his face perfectly stony, he was an on-fire puddle of embarrassment. Further humiliation came from the fact that Death didn’t immediately step in—she was thinking the same thing!

He considered his words carefully, as always, before speaking: “Most days, I have no need for food beyond the basic necessities. Today, I do.” The former part was the reason he gave every day. Proof, not that he needed any more of it, that none of his siblings actually listened when he spoke. Why he bothered, he...well.

Now Death interjected to scold him, “Dream, you can’t just have chocolate from your valentines all day. You’ll make yourself sick.”

“I’m sure it won’t just be chocolate,” he acknowledged. He stood up with most of his meal unconsumed, “If you’ll excuse me,” without waiting to actually be excused.

He loudly scraped his meal in the trash and poured his drink down the drain. Or, at least, he hoped they thought he did (in reality he scarfed it down while he was out of their lines of sight, only leaving enough to provide the necessary noises). Maybe next time, Death would think twice about taking Desire’s side on his eating habits.

Dream stayed safe in his room until it was time for the next part of his awful morning: his parents’ call.

Even though they were out of the country, they always called on Valentine’s Day. Night and Time Endless only had one purpose in making this call. Not to make sure their kids were safe and happy, not to wish them a good day, not to tell them they’d be home from their trip soon.

No, his parents only wanted to ensure none of their kids had dates for Valentine’s Day.

Considering not a single one of his siblings had ever shown the least bit of interest in romance, let alone had a partner, it might as well have been a personal attack on Dream. It had been the last two years, when he’d been with Thessaly and before that, Calliope.

He informed them, “No, mother. I have not had a girlfriend since I broke up with Thessaly in August.”

“Good.” They hung up.

They wouldn’t have done anything drastic if he had a girlfriend—that would require a level of care he didn’t think they were capable of—but they would tell Destiny to pester him every day about why the rule existed: Because most relationships end in tragedy.

It was galling, but internally, he could admit that he was starting to think they were right. This was the longest he’d gone without a girlfriend in a while. Not for lack of contenders—the girls at his school were always trying to bag him, an Endless. No, he just didn’t see the point in dating a girl who held only that shallow interest in him. Not one of them could actually care about him.

Ugh. Why was he letting his parents further sink his mood? He had enough things to be upset about without making himself more upset because of a topic he’d already been thinking about for months.

Since he, Desire, Despair, and Delirium were all heading to the same place, it was better that they all take the same vehicle (logic that Dream despised) especially considering neither of his younger sisters could drive and Desire was perpetually on thin ice.

On good days, Death would drive them. However, as already established, today was not a good day. So Dream had to drive.

By the time he was finally able to part ways from his siblings and go to his locker, it felt like his mood was already at its lowest, and he hadn’t even had to deal with anything directly school-related yet.

At least his all-black attire and dour manner meant people made a wide berth around him. Dream reached his locker without any further trouble. He inputted his locker combination and was about to open it when he stopped.

His brain was telling him something was wrong—something undesirable would happen if he opened it. After giving his subconscious a moment to explain itself to his conscious self, he understood. In past years, he’d had a lot of valentines slipped into his locker, and that was while he had a girlfriend. There was sure to be a mountain of them this time, and some would fly out if he wasn’t careful.

Only now did he open it. As expected, letters threatened to scatter everywhere, how tiresome, but he didn’t let a single one slip away. He stacked them and set them to the side to deal with later—

Holy shit.

Despite himself, Dream felt a grin spread across his face. (He fought it down, of course—it wouldn’t do for the school’s gossip mill, of which he was unfortunately considered a celebrity, to see him and come up with any crazy ideas, like him having a secret girlfriend. If that made its way to Delirium, for example, she would tell the family and he’d never hear the end of it.)

Some girl had left a giant box of his favorite chocolates in his locker, far too big to have been slid through the slots. No, she knew his locker combination. As the only other person who should’ve been able to say that was Hob, and Hob would’ve just given them to him in person, that meant she broke in.

But how could he be mad, when she had such a good reason to?

Dream popped the lid off and was further surprised by a pristine white folded paper sitting on top of the chocolates. He hadn’t planned on reading any of the valentines, but this one earned it. While treating himself to one of the gifted sweets, he opened it and looked for a name at the bottom.

Hmm. No name, only a phone number. He flipped it over, scanned the (very neat) handwriting, but the only name he could find was his own. Who would send a love letter signed with a phone number? Intrigued, Dream actually read it now, starting from the greeting.

If he could live solely off of compliments, the letter would be enough to sustain him for likely hundreds of years. It was not just the sheer amount, nor the degree of flattery, but the kind—each one was actually characteristics he prided himself on, not just how others saw him.

His art was highly skilled and full of complex meanings. His hair and clothes were cool and did make him hotter, rather than hide it like so many other girls had bemoaned. He did put a lot of effort into his schoolwork, even though loathed doing most of it at all.

The author didn’t only heap praise on him. Interspersed were declarations of love. Dream had mixed feelings about them—he enjoyed them, but he wished she hadn’t sat on it for so long, if the amount of time she’d apparently harbored these feelings was to be believed.

He read to the end of the letter and froze. His...nervous admirer...was a guy?

Of course Dream knew his school had a not insignificant queer population, but he’d never had cause to think about it before. No guy had ever shown any interest in him before.

In addition to the author being a guy, he asked that Dream only use the phone number if he would date a guy.

Which, again, not something he’d ever had to consider before. Dream reread the words over and over again. Would he? He didn’t know.

At the minute warning bell, he quickly gathered his materials for his first class, leaving the chocolates and the letter behind, but not the thoughts they had caused.

What qualities were consistent with someone willing to date a guy? Well, probably the same qualities that made him willing to date a girl. She was interesting, she was hot, and she was willing to date him. Soon enough, Dream found that he cared about her, that his every waking moment was consumed by thoughts about her.

It was the first condition that no girl had met within the last several months. His heart had closed off. It had higher standards.

So someone who liked guys would find guys interesting and hot. Well, he was intrigued by the author of the letter, at least. Dream hadn’t found a guy attractive before, but then, it had never been an option before. He’d need a large sample size—after all, it wasn’t like he found every girl attractive.

He would take the rest of the school day, and if he didn’t find any of his male classmates hot before school ended, he probably didn’t like guys.

—Line Break—

By the time the passing period prior to lunch had started, Dream had found that the fact that he recognized people was interfering with the experiment, as he was dismissing guys he disliked straightaway.

Did he do the obvious thing, to change his sample from his classmates to pictures of men on Google or something? No, that took too much work. It was much faster to simply think flexibly and stop recognizing people. With just a little bit of concentration, the hallways became filled solely with strangers.

Hmm. Still hadn’t found any attractive guys at this school.

A flash of motion caught his eye. Dream’s eyes searched for it on instinct and landed on—

A hot guy. His search was over.

Now all he had to do was stop staring (and probably freaking the guy out, considering his stare had often been described as intimidating.) Dream blinked, letting his brain go back to its regularly scheduled programming.

Oh. That was. Hob. That he’d been staring at.

Naturally, Hob seemed concerned by his behavior. “Dream, are you okay?” By the way he asked, Dream could tell that this wasn’t the first time he’d done so.

“I’m fine. I just have a lot on my mind.” There, that was vague enough.

“Like what? Got a lot of valentines?” Hob teased as they found their way outside and to a quiet place.

The pieces fell together. Dream narrowed his eyes. Hadn’t he noted earlier that other than him, only Hob had access to his locker? And, as a guy who liked guys himself, Hob wouldn’t be opposed to other guys who did. “I found a large box of sweets in my locker this morning. Did you give the combination to someone or something?”

“Ah, yeah.” Hob looked down in embarrassment. “I figured you wouldn’t mind, considering what the gift was.”

Dream leaned in, unable to look away. “So you know who it’s from?”

He laughed, “I do, but I can’t tell you.”

No, Hob had principles. It would be useless to try to get him to break a promise like this. Instead, Dream tried to get other important information from him. “Is he attractive?”

“Umm...” Hob looked at him like a deer in the headlights. “I don’t know if you would think so or not, Dream.”

Ugh. As much as Dream wanted to know the answer, he didn’t want to make Hob uncomfortable. “I suppose I’ll just have to call him.” After all, he found at least one guy attractive, so there was possibility enough that he could date a guy.

He got his phone out and dialed the number he’d memorized without even trying, just from how much he’d stared at the letter. (Dream glanced up at Hob once, but he was laser-focused on Dream’s phone.) After the last number, he hit the green call button.

Hob’s phone rang.

That...that...

Neither of them said anything as Hob got his phone out and accepted the call. Dream’s call connected when he did.

“Hey.” Hob’s voice came out of two speakers.

Dream ended the call with shaky hands. He was glad he was sitting down, because the revelation left him light-headed. “You...”

He must’ve sounded angry, because Hob’s next words came out in a rush, “Look, I know I’m probably not—”

“The letter-those were your words?” he had to confirm. “You feel that way about me?”

Hob stared at him with a familiar look that it now occurred to Dream was adoration. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“I...”

A lot of things were occurring to him, actually.

Hob was his best friend and most trusted confidant. Hob knew things about him nobody else did.

Spending time with him wasn’t exhausting like it was with other people—Dream had, on several occasions, initiated a hangout with him because he was thinking about Hob, and Hob never brushed him off.

Hob never raised his voice at Dream or called him weird, either, their first meeting notwithstanding. Hob listened to Dream’s advice.

Hob was always kind to him, even when Dream’s grief was hitting him hard or he was resistant to being called friends or he told him he began their relationship with bad intentions.

He held as much love for Hob as he did for Lucienne or Jessamy, except a distinctly different kind of love.

“I believe...I feel the same.”

“You do?” Hob breathed a sigh of relief. “I’d hoped so, but to hear you say as much...!”

The smile that Hob gave him was priceless. Dream would do anything to keep that smile on his face for the rest of eternity.

“We’re dating, then,” Hob said.

“Yes.” Just saying so set Dream’s heart aflutter.

“Then, maybe, sometime—” They were sitting close enough for Dream to tell that Hob’s gaze was drifting down to his lips. Hob noticed him noticing, “I’m sorry, I know you don’t really like kissing—”

“I’ve never kissed a guy before,” Dream countered as he leaned in.

They met in a chaste kiss. It didn’t take long for Dream to decide he was right—kissing a guy was different. The feeling of stubble against his chin was much better than his past girlfriends had made it seem. That couldn’t just be it, though. He’d never been this...giddy...to kiss his partner before. Perhaps it was something intrinsic to Hob.

Dream broke the kiss, and was treated to Hob smiling at him again.

Dream broke the kiss, and was treated to Hob smiling at him again.

[mariocki]

Evil Dead Rise (2023)

"You don't look so good, Mom..."

"Oh, nothing a big old hug and kiss from you won't fix. Open up now. Like a good girl."

[the-herdier]

Greed, if he were to meet Dream: "You think your family of anthropomorphized concepts is terrible? Hah! Try meeting mine."

[rey-jake-therapist]

Suddenly I realize that Dream was probably the pathetic romantic one of the family, because when he asked his siblings then his mum's help, each time the answer was, "awww here's a girlfriend for you" and it makes me cackle because that was as completely inadequate for the circumstances (though Alianora was badass but that's besides the point), but at the same time it tells us everything we need to know about the man...

[unsightlymuse]

Epistemology be like:

You know everything.

You know nothing.

You do not know enough.

You want to know all that there is to know.

You are content with what you know.

You know things now that you were never meant to know.

You know too much.

You refuse to admit that you still know so little.

You know less than you did before.

…

Knowledge is laughing at you from the sidelines, a bowl of popcorn in hand. Wisdom is nowhere to be found. God is currently doing paperwork.

[aggressivelybicaptainamerica]

It never fails to amuse me that the one Endless who has their shit together is DESTRUCTION. That feels...pointed. 🤣

[valiantstarlights]

Some of the party members are held captive by the thieves guild. (Possibly according to plan.)

Despair (V, the dragonborn paladin): *talking to a thieves guild person* You the leader?

Thieves guild leader: Yeah. The name's Calvin.

(laughter)

Destruction (Reggie, the dwarf barbarian): fucking Calvin.

Desire (Temerity, the tiefling sorcerer): I'm gonna investigation check his underwear. *rolls* Shit. Natural one.

Dream (Erendriel, the elf bard): You are unsure if he's even wearing underwear, but you are absolutely riveted.

Desire: *snorts* Going cross-eyed in concentration?

Neil, the DM: That is exactly what happens. Calvin notices your intense stare at his crotch area and furtively tries to shuffle away from you, a little weirded-out.

Despair: While he's distracted, I'm going to breathe poison at his face, and that should get all of the other members behind him as well.

(shouting)

[thelonelybrilliance]

susannah fisher 🤝 lady marchmain = being inscrutable and beloved by seemingly everyone while actually being profoundly manipulative and fking up their children's lives beyond repair, especially their younger sons

[oncillabrigade]

Consider:

The Bats all have personalized ring tones for one another, but everyone has both a civilian and a Bat ring tone. The civilian ones are chaos, with everyone choosing whatever they want for their various family members and friends. BUT! Everyone has a single Bat tone that all other team members use for them.

The catch? Bruce forbid them from choosing their own Bat ring tones because he proposed this plan back in Dick's Robin days and he IMMEDIATELY picked "Toxic." The choice was not well received.

Bruce: Dick, I will not be alerted to the fact that you're in danger by some Britney Spears song.

Dick: First of all, it is not some Britney song, it is the Britney song. That song finally won her a Grammy.

Bruce: *sighs*

Dick: Second of all, it won't tell you when I'm in danger... it'll tell you when Robin is.

Bruce:

Bruce: I'm taking the Walkman out of the Robin kit.

Dick: *offended gasp*

(Yes, Dick is old enough for a Walkman. No, you will not change my mind. Yes, the Tim-and-on siblings all find that hilarious. Yes, Jason has to be VERY careful not to mention that he borrowed that Walkman for years because he was uncomfortable taking expensive electronics out and about with him.)

Anyway!

Dick then proposes a slew of other songs for the whole team to use, all of which are pop culture references, e.g. the Scrubs theme because they're not Superman and also they're a dysfunctional family of coworkers; the theme from the Godfather because "let's be honest, B, we are basically our own mafia"; "Where is My Mind" by the Pixies because lol identity shenanigans, etc. The list is endless. Bruce spends weeks groaning every time his son texts him.

Eventually, they compromise on the version of "The Entertainer" from The Sting because they're hiding in plain sight to enact a mission defending good people in a hard world. Bruce, Dick, and Alfred are all so pleased with this that they each take a different section of the song as their ring tone.

Then Barbara becomes Batgirl, so she gets a section... and then Jason becomes Robin and gets one, too... and then Tim, then Steph, and then Cass is taken in, and... uh oh. That's a lot of people for one song.

But it's family tradition! They can't stop now. That would be so unfair to the new kids, B!

So they start using alternate arrangements of the song. Bruce has mellowed slightly on the "no choosing your own" thing. As long as it's a version of "The Entertainer" (within reason) he'll allow it.

Tim retroactively changes his ring tone to a weird groove-ska arrangement Bart randomly sent him on YouTube because have you met Tim Drake? Of course he went for hilarious obscurity. (Bruce grits his teeth and approves it after lots of prompting from Dick and Alfred). Steph makes it her mission to find a weirder one (Bruce agrees because he's too tired to deal with accusations of favoritism).

Cass creates her own arrangement on theremin because apparently she knows how to play the theremin. No one is sure why. Upon inquiry, she just says, "spooky noises are fun," but does not elaborate further even when she's asked to do so. A Batgirl's gotta have her secrets—Babs taught her that.

When Jason starts working with his family again, he pays an aspiring music producer within Red Hood's ranks to create a minor key remix of the original Robin II ring tone. His siblings (minus Cass) are VERY jealous he has his own personalized arrangement. Dick, Tim, and Steph end up paying this goon who owns Garage Band to do ones for them, too. Duke does the same when he joins the team.

Meanwhile, in a fit of little brotherly pique, Damian steals Tim's original ring tone. He hopes to rub salt in the Robin replacement wounds. He fails! Tim finds it beyond funny that Damian's ring tone is groove-ska. So Damian quietly pays the amateur producer to make him one that's cooler than Tim's. He pays a ludicrous amount, though, because Steph paid for one cooler than Jason's and Tim paid for one cooler than Steph's.

(Dick wanted one cooler than Jason's too, but he had $63.02 in his bank account at the time and Bruce flat out refused to use the Batbudget on "a super cool ring tone that's better than Jay's." Eventually, Dick just paid himself for an averagely cool one. In installments.)

At this point, the Bats have single-handedly given this fledgling producer enough money to quit being a goon and start an indie music studio. His first customers are mostly superheroes from out of town who like what the Bats have going on and want their own team ring tones. Harley and Ivy get in on that action, too.

Then, as word spreads, every local crook/henchperson with a side band (there are many) flocks to the studio to have their stuff produced by one of their own. Gotham rogues suddenly have an unemployment problem, while the city finds itself with a flourishing indie music scene that puts Metropolis' to shame. The entire state of New Jersey is celebrating the dual victory.

Dick has never been so glad someone doesn't like Britney Spears' magnum opus.

[lightdancer1]

One of the big reasons I think that it's always a bit of a bad thing to forget the Endless really aren't human:

Is because, and I admit here that this is from the POV of someone who does most, if not quite all, of my fanfics from a Death-centric perspective flip both because Gaiman did Dream well and like prequel Anakin there is only so much man pain and mangst I can take before wanting to reach through the screen and strangle the son of a bitch. Disliking Dream as a wangsty jackass who is the architect of almost all of his own problems does not mean being blind to how dysfunctional the Endless as a whole are.

Yet at the end of the day Dream is not your pantsfeels, he's the in-universe true architect of fear and maker of all nightmares, the guy who casually sends a woman to Hell because she told him no. He is inhuman and fickle and dangerous for any mortals that cross his path.......and as a being of story he is also bound by story-logic to pursue the path that makes the better story at the expense of multiple logical and even emotional reactions.

And in terms of this Dream is not really so different to the rest of the family. Even Destruction, when he walks off, very much remains an Endless and is still Destruction. He doesn't become human, he doesn't give up his powers and he goes into a long rambling set of justifications on that and believing simultaneously that the Endless interfere too much in human affairs and turns his group of friends into a minefield to ensure he stays hidden. Destruction, in short, is a flaming hypocrite at best and should not be taken as the reliable one true truth. None of the Seven Endless are that.

So what does all this have to do with Death? Simple. She will outlive the universe and Death of the Endless will be a title and a moment in time. Unlike any of the others she did outright completely quit and walked out and where Dream's captivity and Destruction's hippie moment didn't cause immediate unraveling of reality as opposed to the realm Death did. She is unlike the other six in ways that would and do contribute to why there's so much talking past each other.

The other six, even Destruction, all see their natures as intertwined with their functions, spheres, and all that go with them. Every hundred years for a day Death gives up all that power and becomes fully, truly mortal. She takes the step none of the others can bring themselves to do, and in spite of being the one that outlives the universe, she has died the most of all her kin and the DCU being what it is probably more than a few of those deaths were not pleasant ones. And this is without the equally logical assumption based on Overture that we only see the Earth mortal day, that there were and are such days on all worlds, in all forms of life.

And as I've brought this up before, too, Death's little apartment is not her realm. The realm is only glimpsed partially once, in her second miniseries and it looks every bit as dark as a realm called 'sunless lands' would. With the exception of Destruction all the other realms are seen in detail and not just a partial glimpse. Death has that detachment from that realm, which is as much a part of her as she of it.

In short, unlike the rest of her siblings I think Death is if anything in the comics the least truly focused on duty and much as I consider the 'none of them came for me' to be a good example of Dream's self-serving hypocrisy as he'd hate and scorn and react violently to anyone that actually did and Gaiman is repeatedly on record as noting that, I see the 'our purpose is our function' line as a bit of self-serving hypocrisy in the interest of cheering up her brother. Death couldn't and doesn't take dealing with her function or being an Endless well. She walked out, she keeps trying to turn herself mortal, she will one day continue to exist but no longer be an Endless.

Thus in the end, there is a great irony here. Dream is too rigidly bound by duty to ever truly entertain the idea that he could leave and figure out how to do so short of dying. Death is too frantically eager to discard her Endless status to figure out why anyone would, given the choice, choose to remain one even if it hurts them.

[tsaritza-mika]

Sorry not Sorry guys...

I respect all your inter-companion romance ships, and I hope they bring you joy and endless inspiration, but I have a primal need for something different. I don't need my companions dating each other.

I need them to be the most dysfunctional yet supportive found family they can be

I need Karlach to be literal 'Mama K' and grab Shadowheart and Lae'zel by the scruff and put them on coat hangers, telling them that if they can't say anything nice, then shut the fuck up for five minutes and if they can do that, then she'll come and let them down

I need Astarion and Gale to get into such a spat that all dignity and posh goes out the fucking window, and they devolve into two grown-ass men having a 13-year-old style slap fight while calling each other the harshest of obscenities, but if anyone from the outside tries calling either of them less than fabulous, they join forces and fuck them up

I need Wyll, Shadowheart, and Lae'zel to do each other's hair while discussing all the ways they've taken down various opponents and monsters, and how they would have done things better

I need Jaheira just smacking everyone upside the head whenever they say or do something stupid. Because gods dammit why is she always the only one who can see trouble from a hundred miles away, only to have her perception check fail and stumble right into a trap Halsin had set up to catch food for dinner

I need Astarion to embroider offensive cross stitch into every other companion's tents when he's left behind at camp, for no other reason than he's feeling salty that day

I need Halsin to wildshape into a bear just so he can surprise Karlach with an actual bear and Clive having a tea party with flower crowns and drawings of the horrible ways Gortash will be killed

I need Shadowheart being a petty bitch and letting anyone who was being especially stupid in a fight get a little too close to death as punishment before finally healing them. Because that's just what healers do

I need Gale pranking people with his spells. Use mage hand to yank the rug out from under Lae'zel after she insisted that he was too squishy to fight properly. Casting 'create water' over Shadowheart to ruin her makeup in retaliation for saying last night's stew was a bit bland. Use Telekinesis to fling Astarion off in some random direction because dammit Gale just woke up, and the man needs his coffee before he can properly deal with all of that first thing in the damn morning

I need Lae'zel to take pillow fights just a little too seriously

I need Wyll begging Halsin and Jaheira if they can wildshape into a bear and a shark just so he can ride both of them through the Chionthar while recklessly casting Fireball and Lightning Bolt at the sky, because just think of how cool he would look doing it

[q-ueen-potato]

This is precious!!!

The servants just showing up randomly is so much fun. Morpheus is confused by the constant movement of stars in the Dreaming but hey strange things happen. But one of them just showing up while he's trying to work and asking if he approves of her and a group forming a constellation in such and such a sector two galaxies away? weird.

Zodiacs also showing up to ask questions or just take orders is cool too. I imagine one of them expecting a scolding for making something difficult or whatever and bragging afterwards that he's the boss's favorite (while the poor boss had no idea who this weird person was saying something about misalignment and that it wasn't favorable to new choices).

I'm imagining Hob being late for something and just celebrating his luck that "Hey, looks like my watch was late I still have an extra hour". Yes Mother Night and Father Time simply refusing to accept that anything is different (Although Father Time would probably be like "It's happened, it's happening and it's still going to happen" then say a big fuck it and ignore it until it happens)

The nicknames would be so cute and poor Destiny, he's probably screaming internally just wanting it to stop.

first I wanted to say that I love Night!Morpheus and Time!Hob au.

I was thinking about how confusing it must have been for them during the process of becoming Night and Time. Morpheus feeling weird in the sunlight or Hob dealing with the weird feeling of being in more than one place at once.

Maybe Hob's perception changes? Sometimes he looks at something more full as it was in another time? Maybe they even slip up when referring to each other, Hob calling Morpheus Night or Morpheus calling Hob Time automatically? so many possibilities

Yes yes yes!!! And thank you so much 💖.

But yes! Maybe the servants of Night and Time start paying heed to Hob and Dream. The Stars converge on the Dreaming and will not listen to Mother Night when she demands their return. The Zodiac start appearing to Hob (whether he realises or not) and carrying out his wishes.

You can also imagine everyone else sensing the writing on the wall while the four beings involved try and remain purposefully ignorant. Hob's Hob. He sneezes and turns time back an hour and just laughs it off. He must have read the time wrong. Dream has a LOT to deal with at this point so he's just going to put everything in a 'I'm not dealing with this now' box. And Mother Night and Father Time, I've done my research... They've been around pre God in DC lore. I just don't think beings of that magnitude and sense of self importance are going to acknowledge they're time is drawing to a close.

I absolutely love them calling each other the wrong names though. Like something in them just knows and they're refusing to acknowledge it. Maybe it starts off as a nickname. Hob call Dream his sweet DuskDawn, his Moon and Stars. Dream calls Hob his Life... His Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter. And poor Destiny is in the corner like, please someone give these two clue. 😆

[sohnric]

THIS KITCHEN IS FOR DANCING – k. sunwoo

you never knew a kitchen was more than just a place to cook in.

pairing: kim sunwoo x gn! reader

genre: established relationship au (omg who is she..), hurt/comfort, domestic, fluff, tiniest bit of angst. slice of life !!

warnings: hinting at dysfunctional families, the reader has unspecified mental issues

wc: 1.7k

listen to: matilda by harry styles

a/n: thank u sm sweetie pie @csenke for beta reading in such a short time 💞 also this is very loosely inspired by the book happy all the time by laurie colwin!

this fic is dedicated to my best friend @from-izzy 🤍 I originally wanted to write you something else (as you may know), but I hope even this small thing translates just how much you mean to me. happiest birthday to you, i love you so much

The apartment grows silent after everyone leaves and the door is shut behind them, the only sound accompanying your thoughts being the water running in the kitchen sink, the song lowly playing through the radio and your boyfriend’s occasional, quiet humming as he helps you dry off the dishes and put them away into their respective cupboards. Not a single word was shared between the two of you since the guests departed your new place, your thoughts running a thousand miles per hour, eyes hypnotizing the tap as you focus on washing off all the food and grease remains off your cutlery. Your brain is buzzing with the memories of the past couple of hours, each moment replaying in the back of your head once, twice before it moves to another one, trapping you in an endless cycle of motion bouncing against the walls of your skull.

You relive the whole evening again. 

The sound of the doorbell ringing, a yelled-out “Surprise!” landing into your ears as the little crowd materializes at your doorstep. The kisses pressed to your cheeks, the potted plant forced into your hands, the kettle your boyfriend’s sister drags inside and places onto your kitchen counter without even asking you, plugging it in. The image of your boyfriend’s dad pressing Play on your old, beaten-up radio, the grin he sends you as he admires your empty apartment. 

The bottle of wine your boyfriend puts into your hold when you finally find a place to put the plant down, the soft, apologetic smile sent your way as he kisses the corner of your mouth. The sight of 3 pairs of shoes waiting next to the door, the sound of their socked feet shuffling across the floor. 

The side-hug his mother brings you into, her sweet words landing into your ears. “You made it look so pretty and homey,” she says.

You reply that the apartment is still half-empty and looks a little naked. She tells you it’s nothing a few picture frames won’t fix, and his sister suggests getting a colorful rug for your living room to brighten the space up a bit. You nod to her words, taking them all in.

You’re not used to all of this. 

People visiting you, people throwing you a housewarming party. People caring enough about your comfort to bring you kitchen appliances you lack and asking you if there’s anything more you need that their son forgot to mention when they asked. 

You’re not used to so much care. So much tenderness. To a family so loving their care feels kind of overbearing to your small, fragile heart.

“Are you mad at me?” Sunwoo asks through the endless stream of your thoughts, making you look up from the kitchen sink. You forgot he was here– but then again, where would the dishes be magically disappearing into if not his hands?

The question shocks you. Not because you don’t expect him to ask– just because you don’t really expect your own answer.

“No,” you shake your head, voice a little hoarse. Your eyes burn with emotion, turning into water pools begging to be tipped over if you don’t pay enough willpower to make the streams stop. You bite at your lower lip.

It doesn’t help.

“Then why are you crying?” he asks.

There’s no use stopping it now. There’s no use refusing the apartment that’s now warm from the body heat it received from all the people visiting it this evening. There’s no use rejecting something you never knew you wanted– something you never knew you needed. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I know you said you didn’t want anyone to visit for a bit before you get used to the new apartment and all, and you also wanted to have it fully done before anyone else saw it, but my parents insisted, and–”

“Thank you,” you utter out silently, like a prayer, making him stop in his tracks.

It’s only been a few months since you and Sunwoo started dating. Right from the start, the boy knew it would be different with you. He wouldn’t say it was difficult– no, loving you has always been easy for him– but he knew that he had to have much more patience with you.

His love is patient when he listens to your requests and boundaries. When he listens to you cry and picks up your calls even in the middle of the night, staying up with you until early morning just so you wouldn’t feel alone during your sleepless moments. Sunwoo’s love is patient when he gently holds you and kisses you slowly, setting the pace just right. His love is patient when he helps you pick out an apartment that’s just right for you– with the right size, location, on the right floor, not once thinking of his own convenience.

He always listens– just not this once. 

Somehow, you can’t find it in you to be mad at him.

You used to think you wanted the world to be quiet for a while. To stop– to leave you alone so you could breathe. You wanted your own place for yourself– your own space, uninvaded by anyone else, stranded from any contact. You used to think you don’t want guests over or family members helping with the move– not that the effort was made anyways.

You used to think you wanted a place for one– a quiet nook to bring you comfort, four silent walls to make you calm. A bedroom to make you sleep soundly, a living room with nothing but a TV and a sofa to keep you company. A kitchen to make food and a table to eat it at before you get off for work. That’s what you wanted.

But after the evening is over and your boyfriend’s family leaves the walls echoing with laughter, the radio playing lowly in the background, tea made from the new kettle waiting on your coffee table, steam warming up the place with gentle cinnamon, your heart squeezes on itself at the realization of just how wrong you were.

Sunwoo turns the water off as he walks closer to you, enveloping you in a tight hug. Your hands are dripping water up to your forearms, making wet puddles glisten onto the tiles of your kitchen floor, yet he doesn’t mind stepping his socks in and having your arms sneak around his waist, all your built-up emotion releasing as he gently rocks you to the beat of the music in the background– action something akin to reaching for your soft, tender heart into your ribcage and gently holding it in his palms, protecting it and keeping it safe.

You never knew you were made for love like this. 

You never knew you wanted two pairs of arms holding you to them, the smell of Sunwoo’s cologne clogging up your nose. You didn’t know all you needed was his presence to doze off on evenings that are difficult– a garden in his soul made for you to sleep safely. You never knew the sound of his voice was enough to fight off thunder and make sunlight cut through the clouds, like the sweet chirping of birds waking up in the morning.

You never knew you wanted a place that’s a walking distance from your boyfriend’s– just in case either of you wanted to quickly come over. You didn’t know you wanted a bedroom with soft sheets in it to cuddle in with someone, beams of sunlight dripping into the space through the blinds in the mornings caused by the location of the windows being towards the east. You didn’t know you wanted a living room decorated with gifted house plants and picture frames filled with people you care for the most. 

You didn’t know that a kitchen is more than just a place to cook in. You now realize, amongst all the other things, that your kitchen is now also a space for shared meals, chatter and a bottle of wine opened after a long day at work. 

Sunwoo’s low voice keeps humming the familiar song into your ear, rocking you from side to side. The dishes are long forgotten and your worries disappear like the last remains of rain puddles left outside after a storm on a sunny day. 

The gentle, patient love Sunwoo has for you slowly slips into your heart, mending all the damaged pieces back together and opening up your eyes to so many more things you wanted to stay blind to. You were patient for long enough, though– and you finally see it, right there in front of you, tangible and believable– after all of the love you put out into the world selflessly, tirelessly, it finally came back to you.

And it will stay.

Your new apartment– although you live alone– is a place for love and kindness. A new chapter for new memories, each one brighter than the other. This place is for you to come back to after a long day to rest your limbs and soul in the quiet comfort of it all. This place is made for two people that turn a simple house into a home.

This kitchen is not just for cooking food and heating up leftovers over a cup of coffee during lunchtime. Kim Sunwoo and his endless love show you that a housewarming party is nothing to be scared of if you don’t have an anxious, quiet voice in your ear constantly telling you that there will always be people waiting on the side to somehow ruin your special day for you.

This kitchen is for whispered conversations over sleepy mornings during the weekday. This kitchen is for making pancakes after making love, two arms sneaking around your waist from behind, naked chest pressed against your back. This kitchen is for washing the dishes together, a smiley boy helping you with even the simplest task. This kitchen is for laughter when you burn an omelet or overseason your food, trying out new meals. This kitchen is for matcha in the evenings, a worried pair of eyes rushing you to sleep instead. 

This kitchen is for love trapped between four walls, with no way for it to get out and disappear into the wind.

But tonight, most of all, you realize–

This kitchen is for dancing.

[orionsangel86]

Death Appreciation Week!

With Dead Boy Detectives hitting our screens on the 25th April, and with our girl Death of the Endless making a guest appearance, it seemed only fitting that we should celebrate her in the run up to the show's release.

So I will be running a Death Appreciation Week from Thursday 18th April to Thursday 25th April which will be a celebration of all things Death of the Endless!

Participation is easy. You can go through the prompt list below, and choose to create in whichever way you feel most comfortable. I am keeping this event as flexible as possible so the prompts aren't tied to set days, you just go for whatever you feel most inspired by whenever you can make the time and ideally if you are able to complete a prompt of your choosing each day of the event well then you are a star and I love you!

Prompt List

Death and Family - Dysfunctional as they may be the Endless are a family unit, and their parents are even worse.

Death and Mortals - Some have won her favour, others have slipped through her grasp.

Death and Immortals - even the God's must meet her in the end.

Death and Relationships - Who doesn't flirt with Death on occassion?

Lessons Learned - Death's words of wit and wisdom.

Death the Fashionista - She's rocked many looks over the years, but she's always been a goth fashion icon.

A Day with Death - every 100 years she takes mortal form.

The Sound of Her Wings - lets not forget she has them!

"A Cold Stuck-Up Bitch" - It's a long endless lifetime - Death's early years and how she's changed.

Death Tarot - a symbol of transformation, of change, and even of hope?

Rules for Participation

All types of fanworks are permitted. Fanart, fanfics, gifsets, meta analysis, polls, even just sharing your fave comic panels or official artwork is fine. The goal is to celebrate this amazing character in all her forms.

For your work to qualify for submission to the event, it has to prominantly feature Death of the Endless as the primary focal point. Whilst I encourage exploring her relationships with other characters, the point is to highlight Death as the central character in the work.

the hashtag #Death Appreciation Week must be tagged in all works for the event.

Anything goes! I welcome all ships, all types of work, all themes and content. NSFW is absolutely fine if that's your jam. We don't kinkshame here either. So long as everything is clearly tagged you can literally create what you want.

The prompt list is just a guide for inspiration but literally any fanworks that focus on Death can be included. You don't have to follow prompts if you don't want to.

This is a love fest for Death - which means no hate, discrimination, exclusion, etc. Please also keep criticisms and complaints out of the event tag.

Death of the Author - this is my Neil Gaiman Keep Out sign. As much as I love the guy, this is a fan event and I do not consent to anyone tagging the author in my posts. If he somehow finds it on his own thats on him lol, but please don't tag him.

Most importantly HAVE FUN - and share this post. Signal Boost please!

If you have any questions about the event, the prompts, or anything, please send me an ask or a dm. I'm happy to answer anything and help as much as needed.

With love and thanks to @seiya-starsniper for the awesome banner, and @marlowe-zara and @tryan-a-bex for their ideas and support. <3

[chuunai]

I’m back now

✧˚ · cartoons and fatherhood - chuuya nakahara, michizou tachihara

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, established relationship (marriage with reader), SFW → babies, babies, babies. annoying toddler television shows.

Chuuya Nakahara

Becoming a father is one of the best occurrences that has happened to him in his entire fucked-up life. It’s a reminder that he’s a real, breathing human. He’s not a monster—he’s just a dad dealing with a fussy newborn. Megumi was his blessing, given to him by you. Everyone loves a blessing until it comes with the downside of endless cartoons.

He doesn’t think it’s a fair compromise.

Chuuya despises them. The loud over-dramatized voices and sounds mixed with the bright visuals of whatever godforsaken moral it’s supposed to teach his kid. Don’t get him wrong, he does think morals are important, but a seven-month old who regularly to stuff a plushie into her mouth doesn’t understand the Golden Rule. The ONLY upside to the shows is that they entertain her, and she won’t cry if she sees it. And only then can he cook for you or sneak a kiss on your lips with the amazing noise of ‘Kitti the Kat’s World’ in the background.

One day, he’ll get her to watch those wine-making documentaries. That’s a good show right there.

Tachihara Michizou

It’s all Teruko’s fault. He lets her babysit Sou for one day and all of a sudden his son is obsessed with animated shows.

Tachihara doesn’t necessarily care much about the TV until the baby prefers it over him. Like, no? He wants Sou to want to spend time with him and not some fake characters on screen. He’s his father, for Christ’s sake! Not whatever bullshit animal is on the screen. Your baby should care more about you and him—his parents, his protectors, his family. Tachihara’s family had been dysfunctional with neglectful parents and a dead brother. He didn’t want his newfound family to end up the same.

He wants all of his free time to be with you and your child. Sealing that bond is his responsibility besides his duties of being a Hunting Dog. Sou should look up to his dad and be proud. Not look up to some fictional heroes. Tachihara’s a real hero. Someone many people look up to and thank for saving their lives. All he asks for is his family’s love and support.

He loves being a dad—but he hates the way the TV takes his son’s attention away.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts, @xxcandlelightxx