#it's the Sandman Companion :(

[thatcerealkiller]

“Are you a spider who's spun a web of cunning and deceit and now waits patiently for his prey to come to him; or are you a deer frozen by the light of a hunter's flame, as disaster comes toward you?”

art by arkeresia

[seasonn]

finally got to watch the new doctor who episodes and i fear the person i become (my girlfriend is going to be sick of me)

[so-i-grudgingly-joined-this-site]

Since apparently this needs to be clarified in this fandom

Dream/Morpheus did NOT kill Nada's civilization. The Sun/Sol did as punishment for a mortal loving an Endless. One could argue that Dream did kill Nada by hounding her to suicide, but he very much did not intentionally destroy her people as revenge or something.

Per The Sandman Companion, we are SUPPOSED to see Dream's disapproval of slavery as hypocritical. It fully acknowledges that he has no ground to stand on morally when he sentenced a black woman to hell and possibly cursed all black people in the narrative to horrible fates by doing so.

[orionsangel86]

The insanest hot take in The Sandman Companion is that it tries to say The Corinthian isn't sexually attracted to men

Um wut

Ah my dear no wonder youve been feeling so negative towards the comics if youve been reading this book as a guide! I am still working on your other ask but I think we can confidently dismiss the Sandman Companion as utter bullshit if its gonna attempt to straightwash the Corinthian!!!

So according to this supposed "official" Sandman comic guide Morpheus is an abusive rapist who deserved to die and The Corinthian is Straight. Okay then. Sorry Neil Gaiman but this book sounds like it needs to be put out of print, or updated to actually provide analysis that isnt 100% moronic and baffling that has no actual basis in the comics themselves.

What garbage! Hard pass on ever reading such a thing! Ive read some pretty appalling published analysis in my days (usually articles related to Supernatural where we already knew the writers were hot garbage) but this is a whole other level!

Pro tip for anyone curious about interpreting the Sandman comics - avoid the Sandman Companion like the plague!

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[witchhaunts]

Tag drop ft. verses pt. 3

vi. ( bridgerton ) : the robins are singing their april song

vi. ( merlin ) : there was one good king among the burning palaces

vi. ( companion ) : you're my king &. i'm your lionheart

vi. ( bg3 ) : you will hear thunder &. remember me &. think : she wanted storms

vi. ( peaky blinders ) : i've made myself a bird of prey

vi. ( daevabad ) : i came from the hill ; i am the girl who does not die

vi. ( saf ) : the warmest hello to the coldest goodbye

vi. ( tua ) : run your hands along the wound &. seal it with your heat

vi. ( sandman ) : do the stars gaze back

[namedafterflowerstournament]

Botanic Tournament : Main Bracket !

Round 5 Poll D

Both Yasmin and Jessamy are names refering to jasmine

[so-i-grudgingly-joined-this-site]

@orionsangel86

Look what I found in my local Dorothy House charity shop 🖤 !

An excellent find!

[mintsuwu]

Took a lil break from the asks in order to cook some ✨SMILING CRITTERS FAMILY TIME✨ with @rexmk0153universe-blog because why the hell not??? I might have to divide it in two parts though-

(1/2)

DogDay

DogDay's journey begins when a stork delivers him to the wrong family of wolves, leading him to be adopted by Big Bad's parents. However, his presence triggers jealousy in Big Bad, his adopted older brother, who resents the attention their parents give to the newcomer.

Despite the pack's focus on abilities related to weather phenomena, Dogday stands out due to his unique qualities and talents. As he grows older, he feels a deep longing for a sense of purpose and identity beyond his wolf upbringing. Seeking to find his true self, he leaves the pack and ventures to Jolly Valley, where he encounters the Smiling Critters and forms close bonds with them. Over time, Dogday becomes a leader among the Smiling Critters, embodying their values of friendship and unity.

Big Bad, driven by pride and a mix of emotions, followed Dogday to Jolly Valley, intending to both antagonize his little brother and secretly monitor his progress. Despite his outward bravado and mischievous nature causing ocassional trouble, Dogday remains welcoming towards his older brother, except when his antics go too far. Hus unwavering cheerfulness and open-heartedness serve as a beacon of hope for both the Smiling Critters and his troubled older brother.

BONUS: "Big Bad" is actually a nickname! His actual name is "WindWolf"... Dogday usually calls him "Big Bro", but the rest of the critters "misheard" it and began calling him "Big Bad", much to his dismay.

CatNap

Catnap shares a unique connection with a deity known as SandMan, who reigns over the Dream Realm, a distinct reality separate from the main universe. The origin of Catnap traces back to a moment when Dogday, as a young member of his pack, made a wish upon a shooting star for a friend, and this wish brought Catnap into existence.

SandMan took particular interest in Catnap due to his remarkable qualities, leading to a special father-son dynamic between them, despite Catnap starting off as just another creation of SandMan like many others.

Catnap, however, felt a strong pull to leave the Dream Realm in search of Dogday, the source of his creation. Eventually, the feline succeeded in finding Dogday and chose to remain by his side, along with the other Smiling Critters. Despite Catnap's origin in the Dream Realm and his connection to SandMan, his loyalty lies with Dogday and their companions, forging a lasting bond beyond the confines of the Dream Realm.

Kickin'Chicken

Kickin'Chicken comes from a predominantly female family, consisting of his mother, sisters, and himself as the middle sibling. His father, known as "Rockin'Rooster," is a famous singer, an example that Kickin' aspires to follow. However, Rockin'Rooster's focus on his career leaves little time for family, causing conflicting emotions for Kickin'. Despite his admiration for his father's success, Kickin' yearns for more attention and connection within the family... Yet he hides it under his "cool and tough guy" persona.

However, among his family members Kickin' has a strong bond with his older sister, Pecky. She is level-headed compared to Kickin', but shares his adventurous spirit and openness to new experiences and people.

BONUS: Kickin's family is quite fond of Bubba Bubbaphant, given how he was Kickin's first friend and all of them consider him another member of the family.

CraftyCorn

Craftycorn, born in a magical kingdom governed by four elemental monarchs (Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts and Spades) was raised as the daughter of the Queen of Spades, destined to become a warrior. However, Crafty harbored a distaste for violence, finding joy in art and nature instead.

Despite her mother's attempts to grant her freedom to choose her path within the elemental realms, the other rulers disapproved, doubting Crafty's suitability for the throne. When Craftycorn was to receive her royal Merry Charm, symbolizing her assigned role, she unexpectedly manifested her own charm—the flower. Fearing disappointment from her mother and influenced by the other monarchs, Craftycorn fled her home, unaware of the devastation her departure caused her mother.

Their relationship is complicated, marked by love and care, yet tinged with Crafty's mixed feelings towards her mother.

LoolaLamb

Loola is a special sheep born into a flock known as the "Sleep Sheep" or "Slumbering Guardians." These sheep have the unique role of wandering through villages, signaling to people that it's time to sleep and seek safety from the dangers of the night. Once their task is complete, SandMan, a mystical entity who the sheep "worship" due to its previous helps toward the flock, can traverse their realm to ensure everyone enjoys peaceful dreams and restful sleep.

She's the daughter of the flock's leader, tasked with protecting the sheep, particularly during the day when they're less vigilant due to needing rest after their nightly duties. However, Loola lost her mother at a young age and was raised by her father, who prepared her to take on a similar role in the future.

Despite her upbringing, Loola yearns for adventure and exploration beyond the confines of her flock's duties. After much persuasion, her father allows her to leave, although they maintain communication through letters.

The lamb often travels alone, but occasionally spends time with the Smiling Critters in Jolly Valley for extended periods of time.

[adventures-in-mangaland]

Another Dead Boy Detectives Fic Rec List

Netflix sucks and I'm sad, but the Dead Boy Detectives fandom continues to be awesome, so here are some more very quick fic recs!*

Tonight's the Night You Fight Your Best Mate's Dad by Opossum_Subatomic

Everyone's Alive College/University 5+1 things fic featuring Charles bringing Edwin coffee and slowburn payneland. Also Family/Wedding Drama involving Everyone Thinks They're Dating so acute is verges on Fake Dating. This author is seriously fantastic, everything they write is gold.

You should also check out Kissing Lessons, which is a high school AU that does what it says on the tin while also giving non-binary Monty and polyamory.

Ornithology by Rosie447

Monty gets a job working at Tragic Mick's. This one's not actually payneland, being gen and Monty-centric. I know, gasp. It's a fantastic and very sweet exploration of Monty discovering his sense of self post canon and works as a great metaphor for recovery from toxic family/relationships. Also, the ex-animal solidarity and bonding with Mick is lovely.

what some circumstance stole by Chrome

The Sandman crossover featuring Edwin and Hob being kidnapped and tortured together. Their friendship is really wholesome with eventual Father Figure and Found Family Feels for the whole agency and background Dreamling.

dandelion wine (life and death in summertime) by world_wanderer

Payneland Right Person Wrong Time AU in which neither of them die but they still meet and become friends. The May/December friendship is sweet but tragic, with a bittersweet ending. Superb.

Mirror Image by Anonymous

Charles' afterlife gets taken over my an evil shape-shifting doppelganger, leaving him with plenty of time to regret never talking to Edwin about his feelings. Angsty but with Feelings Realisation and the Power of Love and Friendship vibes.

my healing needed more than time by babyseraphim

Case fic with de-aged Charles! Baby Charles is precious but be prepared for discussions of childhood trauma/abuse.

The same author has also written I'm So Aces at Babysitting, which is a really cute two-chaptered AU featuring Charles and Edwin babysitting the kid versions of each other, with bonus Crystal and Niko doing the same. It's very wholesome and the author writes little kids really well.

Pouring into me by tragedy_machine

Love me some "Charles wants to date Edwin to figure out his feelings but gets turned down" fic. Feelings are hard, OK?

thank u, next by KiaraSayre

Edwin fucks and Charles seethes. It's very funny and also features some interesting worldbuilding with the Fae.

Like We've Never Known Hurt by dearheartdont

Just cute established relationship PWP and praise kink. So good.

all of these hollows by handwrittenhello

The boys are alive again but sans memories. Can they still find each other and prove their devotion to the Night Nurse?? While also evading heavenly and hellish forces trying to keep them apart??? Very interesting concept executed well.

Suo Gân by emryses

The agency takes on the case of a traumatised Edwardian ghost searching for her missing baby... Read it for Edwin family feels.

Where Primroses Bloom by PantryJesus

Reading aloud as a love language and Watership Down feels. Idk, I'm now convinced that Edwin is kind of rabbit-coded with the whole "if they catch you they'll kill you. But first they must catch you" thing. A lovely well written fic.

I'm so sick of online love by Hse11z5

College/University AU where the boys meet through a dating app. It's cute.

you can have the best of me, baby (and I will give you anything) by aletterinthenameofsanity

Again, it's the Friends with Benefits but with real feelings and mutual pining for me. Now has a Charles PoV companion fic.

True Love's Kiss by Asidian

In which Charles curses himself with a Sleeping Beauty enchantment in order to confirm his feelings for Edwin and Crystal is the real MVP. I love this one because the boys are both SO stupid but in very different in-character ways.

I also recommend Promised, in which they kind of play the Green card angle to keep Edwin out of Hell? Which honestly needs to be more of a trope. And Tight Quarters, starring the boys trapped in a magic circle, leading to Forced Proximity induced Feelings Realization (in more ways than one! 😉).

Something I Can Turn To by DontOffendTheBees

I love some domestic fluff, in this case as an Everyone's Alive/Childhood Friends AU in which the boys are poor but happy living together. I liked how they both survive their respective traumas, but Reality Ensues.

I also recommend Lived My Whole Life Before the First Light for a lovely but melancholy Soulmate AU that goes for the "seeing colours" trope for extra wistful angst.

Dining at the Ritz by TerresDeBrume

Meeting the Parents fic in which Edwin's parents are awful and Charles is Not Having It. This has Everyone Thinks They're Dating and autistic Edwin stimming representation, plus discussions of racism, classism and ableism. The fic is also part of a great Modern AU series in which the boys attended St Hilarion's at the same time and Charles saved Edwin from a non-supernatural but still almost deadly prank. Highly recommended!

The Case of the Couples Retreat by juliasfanart

Listen, I can't get enough of undercover fake dating/relationships at a couples retreat, OK? Some minor angst but overall very cute and fluffy.

acu (aysar cinematic universe) by ObsessedWithFandom

The agency is hired to solve the mystery of Charles' death and bring his killers to justice. I'm genuinely obsessed with this series; I love its OCs and Charles having an exboyfriend gives Edwin a fun crisis. Plus haunting Charles' killers is very satisfying and cathartic. Just imagine they're Netflix execs, y'all.

*Not actually quick, as it turns out. 😅

I love doing these lists because I always think I've only got a few recs and then I look back over my recent bookmarks and I've got a metric ton of great fics to rec. You guys are so talented. ❤️

[the-cloudy-dreamer]

Feels like this fits day 1 prompt from @mr-sadman dreamling week so we are hitting reblog on it 🖤

is your blorbo really your blorbo if you don’t draw them wearing a questionable or riske outfit?? anyways I’ve lost all decency and wanted to pushed myself out of my comfort zone so may I present you ✨ Dream wearing lace panties ✨

( lovingly gonna gift this to my server sibling and loving art raccoon partner @rooftopwreck !! thanks you for always giving me inspo and generally being such a cool person 🖤)

[so-i-grudgingly-joined-this-site]

About The Corinthian...

So, while I’m on about individual character analyses and The Sandman, I thought it was about time I addressed The Corinthian.

                Now, since he’s a nightmare, naturally the fandom is bound to ask exactly what type of nightmare he’s supposed to be.  I’ve seen a handful of great posts that examine him specifically through the lens of being a queer man, of how he represents the danger of intimacy and “eyes that devour” in a culture where being any variety of LGBTQ+ is stigmatized.  While I think that analysis holds true, I also feel like that’s not the only way in which The Corinthian is a culturally relevant nightmare.

                The Corinthian is a man.

                He is a white man.

                With an accent from the Southern USA and (in the show at least) clothes and mannerisms that suggest some level of wealth or class.

                He can very easily hide the fact that he is a monster.

He can escape any human attempt at arrest, punishment, or justice.

                I feel like The Corinthian does not just represent a queer community fear, but a collective fear held by minorities—or at least minorities in America—more generally.  Obviously those fears are probably similar in other countries too, but his accent places him specifically in association with a region of the US infamous for inequality.  He also invokes the American Dream in his speech at the Cereal Convention.  I find it fascinating that the character is actually so much older than the USA, yet is associated so heavily with the country.   If he is the “dark mirror of humanity,” perhaps that says something about how the author perceived America?  (Note: the books were written around the Reagan and Bush Sr. years… notably bad times for minorities there)

                Complicating this otherwise near-painfully straightforward symbolism is that Cori himself is queer.  What exact label one might apply to him isn’t exactly clear and a matter of minor fan debate, hence my choice of the broadest label.  The Sandman Companion, the official analysis book from 1999 (which I am loathe to quote since I find it unreliable), states that The Corinthian “doesn’t have sex, he eats eyeballs” and that he’s “homosexual, in the sense that he prefers to eat the eyeballs of boys.” (It’s on page 57 of my edition.)  In the context of the time, I interpret this as Hy Bender and Neil Gaiman feeling that, somehow, audiences in 1999 would’ve been too shocked by the supernatural creature being outright gay that they made the strange half-excuse of “he likes men but not in a sex way, but in a murder way, which is also a sex way.”  Meanwhile, the Netflix version of the show features him definitely having sex with men in addition to eating their eyes (and sometimes without eating their eyes), while also flirting with the female serial killer The Good Doctor and eating the eyes of the female social worker he kills.  So, he’s certainly not heterosexual, but his eye-eating is no longer exclusive to boys… but heck if anyone knows what exactly to label him, or if human labels could apply at all.

                So, then, The Corinthian is a layered fear.  He not only represents a member of the majority who can hide a monstrous nature and commit injustice with impunity, but also the danger, perhaps, of someone whom you thought you could trust turning out to be harmful.  Someone whom you thought was “like you,” a potential partner, ally, confidant, or community member turning out to be the exact opposite.  One could also argue that from a heterosexual majority viewpoint, Cori’s queerness also functions as a “hidden danger,” at least for those who are intolerant.

The Corinthian, then, exists at an intersection that makes him threatening to everyone in some way, on an ideological level and not just a physical one.  Obviously, the whole murder thing makes him threatening to everyone on a base level, but, ultimately, it is not the fact that he has mouths for eyes that makes him monstrous.

(Oh, and one last side note.  I never found the eye mouths scary.  I actually thought he looked goofy the first time I saw him.  The dude can just faceplant in a bowl of popcorn and munch away if he wants.  The scarier thing would be having three mouths—imagine all the flossing! imagine the extra dental/orthodontic work!—than meeting someone who had three.)

If you liked this, you may enjoy my other metas:

My extra-long analysis of the endings and the implication of Morpheus being suicidal

An addendum to the above focusing on Season of Mists

Another addendum focusing on Fear of Falling

Analysis of Death of the Endless as a flawed character

@serenityspiral @duckland @notallsandmen @ambercoloredfox @roguelov

[sakumz]

a/n : this man. knows how to drive one crazy hj ------------------------------------------------------

[ m. orter x fem reader ]

-------------------------------------------------------

" mind if I take that seat? " a voice you know all too well says beside you, you look up from stirring your drink to see orter.

" sure, " you said and a veil of awkward silence pours. orter took this as an opportunity to order a drink and another bottle for both of you. thanking him as he pushes up his spectacles.

" you approve of that mash kid? " orter takes a sip of his drink as he awaits your answer.

" he did play my game... as a divine visionary I guess its only fair I keep my end of the bet ? I suppose you can say I've given my full support in that non magic guy. " you cheekily smile.

" I can't believe you made him play hide and seek. were you even trying to make it hard? no less the toy plush you're using is the size of a child. " he points to your bear companion, sitting by your side.

" it had murderous intentions... nearly killed that freckle kid. " you can't help but try not to laugh at the memory, even making your bear turn to face orter.

he wasn't faze, only rubbing his head. ryoh, rayne and kaldo already approve of the boy. with you, that's almost half of the divine visionary approving the boy. maybe he should assassinate him in secret? would that make you cry? you do have a soft spot for people younger than you. sometimes putting shows and playing with random children on the streets whenever he and you are on patrol duty.

" I still can't believe you. " he extends his hand with his wand, pushing your bear away. it fell to the ground and disappeared. your magic probably made it disappear when it touched the ground.

you lean in close, close to kissing orter but you can't help but giggle. he's such a child. was he mad at your approval to mash?

instead of a kiss, you were met with a headbutt.

" what the heck? " you rub both your hands at the wound.

" you're a betrayer. why would I kiss a betrayer of my heart? " he says it so calmly, it did tick you off.

" oh come on, he won... not really fair since the first round, my bear was the hider and he nearly got beaten to a pulp the moment he was found by the red hair and mushroom hair. there wasn't any rules so my bear was allowed to shrink... " you mumbled the last part as orter can't help but remember the first time you made him and the rest of the visionary play your hide and seek game.

everyone was easily found but the second it was your turn to hide your bear. you shrunk it to the size of a coin, hiding it in kaldo's honey. they only found it when kaldo nearly choke at the feeling of something. thank goodness the bear was just illusion like, it disappeared the moment kaldo starts coughing. you summon it in your palm as you present to the rest, the size of the bear and how they've won since no one surrendered. everyone nearly killed you that day.

" what's so funny? " you pout at the sandman when he starts laughing at the memory. he's getting tipsy from the drinks too.

" nothing. I love you so much, betrayer of my heart. " he leans to plant a kiss on your head.

" don't call me that, if you said to kill him. I would've done it. " you kick his leg as he sighs.

" you won't. you won't do things without reasons. you fail to follow rules too, " he flicks your forehead.

he was right, having met him when he was newly announced as a visionary. he knew you quite well. too well sometimes. it's only fair since he's your lover. you sigh before grabbing his cup and putting it away from him.

" well, no matter what, I'd still listen to you. just maybe I do wish this mash kid make a change. the magicless and magic living together doesn't sound all too bad. we're all humans, after all. the status quo doesn't matter to me when life is involved. I've seen my share of bloodshed. change isn't all too bad either, orter. " he can't help but flush a little at your reprimand.

in his head, you were right and wrong. he loves you dearly and would support you. the status quo is something he cherishes to an extent. he feels a kiss to his cheek as he meets your eyes after, one so full of love.

" let's go home, this talk won't change my mind and I won't force it upon you to approve of mash. just don't make things hard for the poor guy, " your words obviously went in and out the other ear. orter was set on ending mash. even the words of his dearest may not be important at the moment.

" you're such a child, " he stirs to which you narrow your eyes at him, one close to a glare.

" says the big baby, I can literally beat you in a fight if I take down your weakness first. " you raise a fist.

" oh yeah, what's the weakness? " he had his hand prompting his face, tilting it to the side as he smiles uncharacteristically.

" your glasses. once it's out of the way, you're done for. " you smile back as your fisted hand made impact to his face, not physically and painfully punching him. just a light tap.

" I thought you'd say you're my weakness. " he was really getting drunk as he giggles to himself.

" what, you're my weakness. " you playfully pout as orter grabs you to give you a hug.

" go home, idiots. " the bartender sighs at your antics. giving him a soft chuckle as you feel orter's weight on you.

he had fallen asleep. you summon one of your plush toys to help pay the bill from your wallet and then a few more to help you carry the man. how you hope he'd forgotten half of what happened tonight and the fact you paid instead of him. he'll definitely make a fuss if he knew, but what's the point of being rich as a divine visionary if you can't spend. he loves you to death just like you love him too. complicated relationship but there's so much love in it. orter enjoys your company and he's forever thankful for your existence.

[orionsangel86]

Figured I'd continue this as an ask so we don't keep debating on that poor person's post! Anyways, regarding Neil's edgelord tendencies:

What also throws me off about The Sandman Companion's rape interpretation of both Morpheus' marriage to Calliope and his relationship with Nada (it states that the women's story must be WORSE not better, than the version men tell, and pretty much the only way it could get worse is rape...) is that Neil... isn't shy about SAYING "rape" in the text. He doesn't hide what Madoc does to Calliope, nor what the book version of Desire did to Unity (which thankfully got changed to consensual in the show). So why this roundabout stuff with Morpheus? If the character being evil and abusive is supposed to be a core character trait, why relegate it to an obscure, if still canon, guide text?

My hope is that these particular edgelord interpretations are the work of the other co-author, Hy Bender. Alternately, I wonder if Neil was trying to retcon his own work at the time. I have no idea how the grimdark "Morpheus killing himself was good, actually" ending was received at the time, but I could easily see a situation where, like now, the fans look at the ending and go "yikes". Perhaps Neil was doing his best to cover and go "um well ACTUALLY you should be glad he finally offed himself, see how horrible he was!" even when it went against his original intent for those previous issues.

Like now, he might be able to look back and realize the nasty implications. But I could easily see younger-Neil as an author who just released their long-planned ending to a text scrambling for cover when it doesn't get the expected reception.

That's a TOTAL GUESS though. Like I said, I have zero idea how people felt about the ending in the 90s.

Ooof every new thing you tell me about that book makes me shudder and recoil.

Honestly I have no idea what Neil's intentions were with signing off on those interpretations, and I still struggle with understanding his intentions for the ending of the Sandman, other than the obvious being a "what NOT to do if you are feeling depressed and incapable of improving your life", which sometimes gets a bit lost amongst all the misery and angst with zero pay off throughout the Kindly Ones. Do we know what the initial reception was to the ending of the Sandman when it was first released though? Because hasn't it always been critically acclaimed highly praised and considered one of the all time best graphic novels ever published? It's Neil's Magnum Opus.

I think we have both now mentioned more than a few times that the 90s were a totally different era with a totally different mentality to today. A lot of the stuff in the Sandman comics are eyebrow raising because the different mentalities of the era are so obvious to me. The general portrayal of women in particular is pretty um... outdated and on my first read of the Calliope issue I visibly recoiled at that panel where she is raped by Madoc - because I legit had never seen something like that depicted so graphically before in that artform. But you are right to point out that if Neil wanted Morpheus to be viewed as an abuser and a rapist, then he would have just put it in the comics. Desire is a rapist, and yet people still love Desire.

The show is a much better indication of where Neil's intentions currently lie. The removal of any graphic scenes of sexual violence towards women was absolutely the right decision. Dream is a far more likeable character in the show (and I still like comic!Dream even with his somewhat cold demeanor!) I could scream all day about the absolutely brilliant changes in the Calliope episode which come across so romantic and soft that fans are legit shipping them together (which I don't think anyone can possibly do with their comic counterparts). I think the change in the Dolls House to Desire and Unity's whole situation also has huge implications for Desire's character which fascinates me. In the comic it is literally a one time thing where Desire rapes her while she sleeps and probably never considers her again outside of keeping an eye on their child as part of their scheme. The show however indicates that Desire took the time to get to know Unity, to woo her, and to enter into an apparently long term relationship with her in the Dreaming.

I 100% believe they are going to change the story in Tales in the Sand and I think that they left it out of season 1 because it's going to be a huge indication on how the show will deviate from the comics further. I hope they do away with all that stupid virginity stuff (because I'm sorry but shoving a rock up your vag to break your hymen is NOT losing your virginity and that particular part always baffles me. Dream doesn't care about virginity? Well good for him but like, she's still a virgin anyway? Otherwise you are legit stating that this poor girl lost her virginity to a slightly sharp dick shaped rock? Come on people I thought this was obvious? There are better ways to indicate to your audience that your main character doesn't have a virginity kink. Sorry for ranting about that but it really pissed me off when I first read it because it was SO STUPID).

Basically, whatever the Sandman Companion stated is gonna be forgotten about completely when the show releases its new episodes and we see show!Dream be even more the romantic hero. I think we can be confident that any modern interpretations will do away with these 90s edgelord interpretations and thats the best thing we can ultimately hope for. I won't let it tarnish my opinion of comic!Dream though, because there is more than enough evidence in the comics that contradicts some bullshit interpretation that makes no sense.

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] Past the Wit of Man (or, Bottom's Dream)

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: M Word Count: 3657 Tags: comedy, attempted comedy, comedy devolving into feels, identity reveal, sex worker Hob Gadling, advancing my Men In Lingerie agenda, long-haired Hob Gadling agenda, stretching timelines like taffy, Desire and Dream get along AU, but Desire is not actively in this, Dead Boy Detectives comic spoilers mentioned, miscommunication, Dream of the Endless finally uses his words, happy ending

Notes: Kudos props and huge thanks to everyone in the Mr Sadman discord who creatively interpreted a snippet I posted of something else and launched the whole idea of Hob working for a supernatural escort service; this would not exist without y'all and your beautiful brainstorming. ❤️

This fills the August monthly @dreamlingbingo prompt Identity Reveal, replacing square A2 (creature: Veela) on my bingo card

Summary: Hob is nicely settled in a new career and a new identity and does not expect to see his Stranger until 2089. The universe, apparently, has other ideas.

On AO3

~ "Your client is Dream of the Endless. He is extremely ancient and extremely powerful, an underpinning concept of the universe. Absolutely terrible about loosening up and letting himself relax."

"Don't think I'd be much good at relaxing if I was an underpinning concept of the universe either," Hob jokes, opening the profile that the Agency rep has just airdropped to his phone and thumbing through it.

The rep, a foppish vampire with curly white hair and impeccable fashion sense, arches one elegant eyebrow at him. "Apparently his most recent girlfriend dumped him quite harshly and his sibling has arranged this booking on his behalf; he's—and I am quoting here—'absolutely incompetent at managing his own happiness'."

"He knows he's been booked though, right? I'm not gonna catch the fallout because no one told him what kind of appointment this is?" It's only happened once, a prank played on a shy ace nixie by her well-meaning but ill-informed friends; all the same, Hob does not care to repeat the experience—particularly with someone potentially more dangerous.

"He is very much aware and in agreement, yes. We promised him our top companion." The rep dimples at Hob, a smile of saccharine sincerity that shows only the barest hint of fang. "And that's you, sweet Nick."

"And that's me," Hob agrees matter-of-factly, frowning at his phone, then turning it to show his guest. "No photo?"

The rep glances at the screen and makes a commiserative noise. "Oh, yes. Unfortunate, that. Cameras have a very hard time with this fellow, something to do with his general relationship to reality." His tone takes on a simpering air of great melodrama. "We were forced to use an artist's rendition instead! Tragic, really; it doesn't do him justice."

"Huh," Hob says, turning his phone back and studying the cartoony hand-drawn image. Guy looks like he's got some sort of steampunk insect for a head, dark and bolt-laden and bug-eyed, with a trunk that's strongly reminiscent of a disembodied spine. "Dream of the Endless, you said? Looks more like a bloody nightmare."

The rep gives an exaggerated roll of his shoulders, as if shrugging off his delivery duty now that it's done, and turns to leave. "Well whatever the case, an Endless is far above the average client, darling. Give him your best."

"'Course." Hob grins. "That's why you brought the assignment to me, after all."

"Just so." The Agency rep gives a lazy wave in parting and Hob closes the door, still scrolling through the profile as he makes his way to the kitchen.

"Dozens of titles and names", he murmurs, glancing through the list of them. "King of Dreams and Nightmares, alright. Contains the entire collective unconscious of every living being in. Every…universe…?" He shakes his head. "Has never taken a vacation ever. Bested Lucifer Morningstar and oversaw the reassignment of Hell—okay, wow. Billions of years old." He whistles, a long sound of awed disbelief. "Maybe I throw in a free massage for this guy; sounds like he could use it."

He shakes his head again, pockets his phone, carries on with getting breakfast together.

Bug-headed workaholic foundational concept of the universe. Won't be the weirdest client he's ever serviced.

~

It's been ten years since his stranger showed up late for their meeting and smiled so openly and named him friend. That had been their longest meeting yet, lasting all afternoon and on into the evening and it wasn't until the Inn had started closing up for the night that they wound down. His stranger had spoken briefly of the missed appointment in 1989, making clear that something at least mildly traumatic had kept him away and also that he did not wish to elaborate, and Hob had let it go. There was so much to tell of his own century past, his friend remarking with interest on a great many of his stories, and it was enough. His stranger, his friend, had come back, and they'd had a lovely long meeting. Perhaps in 2089 he would be comfortable sharing more of his own story, but even if not, Hob didn't mind. He was confident once more in the friendship he'd declared back in 1889 and willing to coax it out bit by bit, meeting by meeting. He had all the time in the world, after all.

Within a year of that meeting he'd wrapped up his teaching career, arranged for ownership of the New Inn to transfer to a 'relative' in the States who'd keep it running the next few decades, and started searching for a new career for his next identity.

He stumbled quite by accident into the broader supernatural world after being stalked by two dead teenagers helping that de Rais creep who wanted to steal his immortality. It all turned out fine in the end but opened Hob's eyes to exactly how much the supernatural had integrated into the modern world around him. And once old Hettie clued him in to the existence of a certain Service Agency catering to supernatural clients, his next career path was all but decided. What was he going to do, not seize the opportunity for fantastical sexual exploration when presented with it? Life was for living! Werewolves, vampires, sirens and fae and merfolk, the occasional ghost and even an extra-terrestrial or two; scales, feathers, tentacles, knots—Hob's shown them all a good time and earned a stellar reputation among the Agency's clientele. He doesn't plan to do it forever, but he enjoys exploring new avenues and stretching his limits and 'Nick Bottom' is the perfect persona to let him do so.

And now sweet high-priced in-demand Nick has been booked to rebound-fuck an uptight concept in humanoid form who looks like something straight out of a nightmare.

Hob can't wait to completely take this guy apart one orgasm at a time until he's a boneless puddle of satiation and send him home afterwards a brand new man.

Concept. Entity. Whatever.

~

The booking is scheduled for the following day and when the time comes, Hob is fresh and clean and set up in the Agency's most lavish suite. He's let his hair grow the last few years, sports a proper Hozier-like mane at this point, is wearing it down for this appointment. His beard is several weeks old, trimmed to artfully-scruffy perfection and well-groomed. He's lounging on the bed in a short open silk robe and a pair of lace panties that hug his hips and leave most of both arse cheeks exposed, a popular outfit in his repertoire sure to please the classiest of clients with the most discerning taste. Both pieces are a matching vibrant cobalt blue that complements his skin tone beautifully. He's wondering what fucking a concept is like, idly massaging his dick now and then to keep it primed, when finally there's a peculiar displacement of air and then a figure in dark robes with a weird spine-trunked bug-eyed head is standing in the middle of the suite. He's taller than Hob and inhumanly rail-thin; the robes plunge deep from the neckline, displaying milk-white skin without a hint of chest hair and clavicles that beg to be nibbled on. He's in profile, angled slightly away, and Hob has the distinct sense that this is a deliberate pose meant to make an impression, to instill awe and possibly fear in him.

So Dream of the Endless has a flair for drama, got it.

"Hello," Hob greets in his best breathless-and-sultry tone, rising from the bed to approach his client. He layers in a suitable amount of awe, pitching his voice toward 'smitten' with a subtle ring of sincerity to support it. "Oh, wow. You must be Dream of the Endless; I'm so delighted to get to meet you! I'll be taking care of you today; you can call me Nick."

The guy, the concept, Dream of the Endless, he goes stock-still as Hob speaks, and it's like the air in the room pauses with him. He turns, slowly, until Hob is face to face with his…oh, possibly that's a mask, then; the bug-eyed lenses are somewhat translucent in the light though Hob still can't see beneath them.

"There has been some mistake." The voice is deep and distorted through the helmet-mask, bone-rattling in an almost-pleasant way and, somehow, somewhat…familiar? "I was meant to be meeting with 'Nick Bottom'." The quotes around the name are audible.

"That's me!" Hob says, raking a hand back through his hair and shaking it to settle around his shoulders attractively, flashing his most charming smile. "At your service, love, whatever you need. I'm here to make sure you have a very good time, and—"

"Hob Gadling."

That draws him up short. He's currently Robyn Gadrin for tax-paying purposes in the outside world, but the Agency wouldn't give out his current identity let alone his true name, so how—

Hob's brain is babbling insistently about the note of familiarity in that voice and he finally lights on why as Dream of the Endless reaches up to remove his helmet.

Hob finds himself staring at the slightly-more-than-human-but-still-very-familiar face of his Stranger, his centennial touchstone, his friend.

Everything about his reality tips a little bit sideways, dominoes crashing one after the other in his brain until all that's left is that awful ringing alarm tone that features in emergency broadcast alerts on American telly.

Between them, the silence stretches awkwardly, until finally Hob breaks it, the first thing that comes to his tongue spilling out while his poor brain is still rebooting.

"Six-hundred some-odd bloody years, and this is how I learn your name?!"

~

It is five minutes later. Hob is sitting on the side of the plush bed in his short silk robe and lace panties, clutching a bottled water and seriously considering availing himself of the bar in the next room because his emotions are all over the place. His Stranger—Dream of the Endless, apparently—is seated next to him. His eyes are not the blue that Hob is used to, are fully black with actual stars winking in and out of them; it's gorgeous but uncanny. He's currently not looking at Hob, has got the weird bug-spine helmet gripped tightly in both hands. Which are still so pretty, Hob can't help noticing, his fingers longer and more spindly than normal, splayed wide around the curve of the helm, nails painted black. Or maybe not painted, maybe they just are black.

Pretty, regardless.

Not a helpful thought at this juncture.

It's not like he'd thought his Stranger was actually human, obviously, and okay yes the possibility of meeting up with him via this particular career choice had crossed his mind once or twice, might've featured in a private fantasy or two; but also he'd never seriously imagined it because it felt so entirely implausible that his prim and lofty Stranger would ever engage in something so mundane. So casual.

Apparently, Hob was wrong about that.

He's not sure how to feel about it, either.

The smooth inhumanly-pale chest on display in the plunging vee of those artfully-draped robes is also not helping anything.

His Stranger—Dream— moves slightly, glances at him with those starry eyes, flexes those pretty fingers on the helmet. "I will. Arrange. For another. To take your place, Hob, you need not—"

"Now hold on a minute," Hob interrupts, sudden direction presenting itself for his floundering emotions to flow. "What do you mean, 'arrange for another'? What's wrong with me?"

Dream, his name is Dream of the Endless, Dream looks perplexed. "Our. History—"

"Oh yes, our illustrious storied history wherein we have met all of seven times before now and, may I remind you, you took offense to my suggestion that we might be friends until you'd had time to digest it properly, yes."

"Eight."

"Eight?"

"I visited your dream, before undertaking a daunting journey from my realm to another. We shared wine. You gave a most thoughtful toast."

"I. Okay." He remembers that dream, yes; he remembers the wine that followed him out of it, and now with the knowledge that his Stranger is apparently King of all dreams and nightmares suddenly it all makes brand new sense. But he will process that later. "Eight. Still not a factor in my ability to do my job."

Mostly. It is his Stranger, after all, and it's not like he hasn't ever wanted—

"Sex would be. Awkward," Dream insists, and Hob loses it, never mind he'd half-thought the same thing until a second ago; Dream saying it makes him refute the assertion with everything he's got.

"You dare," he says, setting aside his water.

Dream boggles at him, cosmic eyes wide, mouth slightly parted.

"You. DARE. To disdain my professional services just because we know each other?!"

"Hob— "

"No. No, your booking was very clear that you were to have the very best, and that. Is. Me. So you will not be re-booking with another companion on the grounds that our acquaintance makes it 'awkward'; if you mean to partake of the services you've hired you will partake of them with me."

"My sibling."

"What."

"My sibling hired your services. Did they know—" He's half talking to himself and Hob sighs, forcefully pulling the conversation back on track.

"Yes, right; your sibling booked you and here you are. Did you want to get laid today?"

"You need not be so crude about it."

"Forgive me. Of course. Did you come here hoping to have a sensual skillful sexual experience with a stranger intent on your pleasure with no judgments or expectations placed upon you in return?" He makes a valiant effort to rein in his sarcasm. "Because I can still provide that. Minus the bit where we're not strangers."

Dream looks positively miserable, a sodden wet cat of a man in sex-appeal robes hunched on the edge of the decadently-plush bed, and there is certainly an understandable element of embarrassment to the situation but Dream is taking it so seriously. Hob is not surprised, exactly, but christ—he's more than willing to follow through never mind any feelings he may or may not want to admit to, and Dream is the one who'd agreed to the booking in the first place. You'd think he could handle this hiccup with a little more grace.

"It was my intent to. Do, as you say," Dream says at last, and Hob sighs.

"Is that still what you want, then? I promise I'll take good care of you." He's actually really warming up to the idea, not that he was cold to it to begin with. It's his Stranger after all. He's been willing to say yes for centuries. "They really did book you the best, and I would love to show you how well-earned my reputation is—"

"Hob—" Dream sounds pained, gives an artfully-dramatic shake of his head. "My wants are. Manageable. If no one else is available. I cannot simply engage with you so frivolously—"

Hob leaps up from the bed, stalks a frustrated few steps away and whirls back, spreads his arms. "Am I not appealing to you, Dream of the Endless?" He tosses his head, shakes his hair back, gestures at the blue silk and lace that he knows looks absolutely spectacular on him. "Would you like me to change clothes? I have a dozen more ensembles I'd be happy to put on if you'd rather peel me out of one of those. Would the Prince of Stories prefer roleplay? Golden-age pirate, biker bad boy, Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth, cowboy, librarian, Starfleet officer—I'll dress however you like." He's fired up, he's…it feels like anger but it's more like alarm; he is absolutely not about to let a colleague fuck HIS Stranger if Dream's looking to unwind. Not with all the thoughts he's entertained the last couple centuries, not when Dream is looking so entirely miserable about the whole experience. Hob wiggles his bare toes in the plush carpet, forcing a deep breath; he is jealous and possessive and protective all at once and has no idea how to safely navigate this storm to get Dream what he wants without pissing him off.

"Your…clothing becomes you greatly, Hob." He's sneaking a glance as he says it, like he's not allowed to look but can't help it. "Your clothing is not at issue."

"Then what is?" Hob rakes a hand back through his hair, frustration fizzling, careening toward concern. "If you're truly that put off by me, I'll let it go. But you're here, for sex, which you did say you wanted; this is my job and I'm good at it and you clearly need—" Someone to take care of you, he'd nearly said, and while Dream has been giving him so much leeway in this conversation he thinks that might be one straw too much for this particular camel's back.

Nice to know he appreciates Hob's hairy chest and his dick in blue lace, though.

Dream levels him with a look that almost puts him right back to 1889, and Hob has half a second to start panicking before Dream closes his eyes, draws himself up, sets his bloody weird helmet on the bedside table with a soft leathery clunk. When he opens his eyes again, they are resolute, resigned, the eyes of a man headed for the gallows despite the stars winking hopelessly in their depths.

"I do not wish to be intimate with you. When you view it as simply a job. I. Would like—but not. If it is a transaction. If I am merely a client."

Oh. Oh.

Oh shit, really?

Impossible.

Really?

"You want. You want it to mean something?" Hob is embarassed at how small his voice comes out.

Dream closes his eyes, something like shame written all over his beautiful otherworldly-pale face. "I had thought. At our fifth meeting. That perhaps there was the possibility of. Attraction, between us." He opens his night-sky eyes again, meets Hob's resolutely. "Had we not been interrupted…" He shakes his head. "I pondered the idea until next we met, anticipating the possibility of. Seeing, where we might have come to. But you named what was between us friendship, you named me lonely; I perceived your words as mockery and acted accordingly. I spent the next century with a surplus of time to wander my own thoughts. They turned to you, Hob Gadling, with regularity. As I expressed when last we met, I regret leaving our previous meeting so abruptly, so harshly. Your friendship is of great value to me. I am content to let it remain friendship, in the interest of keeping it. But I am unwilling to engage with you, who named me 'friend', as I would a lover when I have yet to fully bury the wish. That you might have been my lover in truth."

Hob is desperately trying to keep from bluescreening again and while he's focused on that, his mouth runs along without him. "You never even gave me a name, but you wanted us to be lovers?"

"I am. Aware, of how foolish my wishes—"

"No, oh no. Dream. Love." He absolutely cannot let him think that. "All you ever had to do was ask."

Dream looks at him, starry eyes full of misery with the faintest spark of hope underneath, glimmering with unshed tears. "I. Could not—"

"That was then. Water under the bridge. What about now."

Dream shivers, his more-than-human face wary and pleading and resigned all at once and the last of the fight drains out of Hob. He approaches gently, until he is directly in front of Dream on the edge of the bed again; he half straddles Dream's lap with one foot still on the floor and a bare knee sunk on the mattress beside him, threads both hands into Dream's hair behind his lovely ears, tips his pale face up.

"Ask me now. Please."

Dream's hand settles above his bent knee, a gentle, tentative touch; his eyelashes flutter, and the sound that leaves him steals Hob's breath. That hand travels softly around to grip the back of Hob's thigh, slides hesitantly higher, and then it's Hob making the helpless noise as Dream's fingertips card beautifully through his leg hair, run up beneath the short robe. Dream's spindly black-nailed hand caresses up over his exposed arse cheek, squeezes, and all the while Dream's beguiling uncanny eyes are fixed on him, wet and wondering, full of blossoming hope.

"Hob Gadling." His voice is hushed, almost reverent. "I should like to have you, as my lover. If you are amenable." His face is tipped up, so close between Hob's hands, and Hob.

Hob's shaking. He's actually trembling, pent up, a little scared; daring, as he leans down and his hair falls around them both, hoping—

He brushes his lips to Dream's.

He kisses his Stranger, his friend, his touchstone.

And Dream of the Endless, who is all of those things, kisses him back.

It's nothing like he might have imagined, and ten times as wonderful, and over before he realizes he's ended it.

"Do you mean it." His voice is breathless, the words spoken directly against Dream's mouth. It's a stupid question, in light of the entire conversation gone before and the hand still on his arse, but he can't help asking. This entire turn of events is just too good to be true.

"Yes."

But true it is, apparently, and Hob's heart soars.

"Then. Dream of the Endless. My Stranger. My friend." He presses soft kisses to those plush pink lips between each moniker, dizzy that he's allowed. "Let me add another title to the list, darling. Take me to bed; the suite is ours 'til tomorrow. Let me learn how you would have me. Let me show you how I would treat you. And let me, at long last, name you mine."

= Started: 8/21/24 Drafted: 8/27/24 Posted: 8/30/24

If you're looking for a spicier take on this concept, @delta-pavonis has you covered: Dossier 54392 - please, give it a read, it's delicious.

(and here, have a post-script-y epilogue-exchange of sorts that did not quite fit:)

= "You chose to name yourself Nick Bottom?"

"What better name for a callboy to the supernatural than the bloke who got unwittingly embroiled in a fae lovers' spat and ultimately survived the entire encounter unscathed? Feels pretty relevant to me. Empowering, a bit?"

"Nick Bottom was less 'empowered' than simply lucky, perhaps."

"Perhaps. I'll not turn my nose up at good luck, either. But a name like Bottom in this business is also too good a pun to pass up, and I figure old Shaxberd would approve."

"I believe he would, indeed."

"The irony being that fully half of my clients want me to top them, heh."

"I do not wish to speak of your clients while you are in bed with me."

"Got better uses for my mouth, have you?"

"Other sounds I would prefer to hear from it, yes."

"Fair enough. Why don't you tell me what you want, Mr. Sandman, and see if I can make your dreams come true."

"Must you be so cliché?"

"You love my clich—mmph—"

"Stop. Talking."

"Yes love."

(Dream will tell him about commissioning A Midsummer Night's Dream at some other time 💖)

= Nick Bottom's lines from A Midsummer Night's Dream that lent themselves to the title: I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was and also The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream

[dcdreamblog]

A bit of an odd question but who was/is the best dancer in the JSA? The one mystery man who was only killed on the dancefloor?

Now this is a FUN question, though honestly one that would be hard to answer. I'll just keep it to the membership of the core, Golden Age JSA for simplicity's sake.

Let's check things off as we go.

Dr. Fate, Dr. Midnite and The Sandman: Were all noted as being incredibly mousy and introverted.

Charles McNider (Midnite): Was a lifelong bachelor who was always more concerned with his various intellectual pursuits. He didn't drink and his natural position at any function was in the corner, feeding our d'oeuvres to his owl.

Kent Nelson (Fate): Equally so, being a book learned archeologist whose wife was more likely to share a night at the library than the dance floor. At any social function, Kent and Inza Nelson truly only had attention for one another. You'd leave them alone at a candle lit dinner table and come back to find them sharing the light over some dusty scroll.

Wesley Dodds (Sandman): Was noted as being instantly eclipsed in any social or hosting capacity by his companion Dian Belmont. His teammates were often known to comment that the Dodds with and without his mask seemed like two entirely different people. Jay Garrick is once noted as saying that an unmasked Dodds "struck me most as a clerk, juxtaposed against Belmont's gothic elegance."

Starman: Would usually have been noted in a similar category to those above. UNTIL his marriage to Adele Drew. Drew was noted by a contemporary Daily Planet reporter as "Homely in appearance but of excellent humor and infectious energy" making her the perfect fit for the often melancholy intellectual she married. (That is NOT how anyone who knew her would describe her. Hippolyta once said Adele Knight was "Gorgeous of spirit and overflowing with love") While they DID dance, Knight was noted as being VERY unskilled, mostly floating along on his wife's ever present enthusiasm.

Green Lantern: Was an interesting conversationalist, and often popular at social functions, noted as having a voice for speeches. However his heavy build and more serious air kept him from being much of a dancer. (The only evidence I can find of him ever dancing is from memoirs about the reception of his wedding to his second Wife Molly Mayne (AKA Harlequin) which speaks more to the outsized effect she's had on him than anything.)

Wildcat: Any boxing historian can tell you that Ted Grant was not a sportsman known for his footwork. I read one account that described his style as "pouncing on the other guy and giving better than he got". Those more familiar with the sport can comment there. He was however known as a boisterous presence, especially when drinking.

Atom: Al Pratt was a man with a lot of good qualities. He had a lion's heart, he was loyal to a fault and he was tougher than a team of oxen. He was also 5 foot nothing and could be described as having two left feet if you cloned him and taped them together. His wife Mary wasn't known to be much better. Their "dancing" mostly included the two stepping on each other's toes, apologizing at the same time, and giggling about it.

The Spectre: ...let's be serious here.

Hawkman and Hawkgirl: Were just a TAD too self serious to be "cutting a rug" among the styles of the time. They were noted as accomplished classical dancers, the kind of couple that could draw eyes when something fancy was playing. As noted with the Nelsons above, though. It was often said that the two only ever had eyes for one another. It was running joke that the Hawks would always be the last to leave any function because they were slow dancing in each other's eyes 3 hours after the band had gone home.

Wonder Woman: Is a literal Queen. Not exactly the kind to be circling the floor at a cocktail party.

Hourman: For a born scientist, Rex Tyler was also known as particularly energetic especially in the aftermath of a battle. His wife, Wendi, being a stage actress was also trained as a dancer. Due to Rex's general lack of grace and Wendi's spontaneous, laughter prone personality however, their dancing was usually described along the lines of swinging each other around until they fell into a heap. Dr Midnite once said "It was common knowledge that any party where the Tylers only destroyed a single digit number of chairs was a sign of good fortune."

Johnny Thunder: DID dance. That does not, however, mean that he COULD dance. As the youngest and "hippest" of the JSA's number, he was always stumbling his way through the steps of this or that new dance craze that was sweeping the teenage population. He always seemed to be having fun, even if the flying debris of hands and feet made his space on any dance floor a rather wide berth.

Black Canary: I cannot describe to you the amount of a sexpot this woman was for her time. Like. Wavy hair over one eye, netted stocking, slit up both thighs, low cut, smoky eye shadow, wolf whistle, eye popping, hummina hummina AWOOGA sexy. Every single time the original Black Canary walked in the room, every monocle hit the floor and a bunch of upper class ladies discovered what lesbianism felt like. The woman could dance, and she could make the whole room WATCH her dance. But let's be clear in that no one was watching her "dance". You get me?

Mr Terrific: I mean obviously. There was not a single goddamn skill that one could quantify that Terry Sloane did not possess. All the big, fancy dance steps that people take classes for he could do inside, outside and backward inside an afternoon. Among his medals and accolades are evidently national ribbons in Salsa, Waltz AND Flamenco. He's Mr. Terrific. He could dance.

But then there's the actual ANSWER to the question.

The Flash: Jay and Joan Garrick were gaga for each other. Happily, loudly, publically, head over heels in love. The kind of love that starts a clan (which they eventually did, neither here nor there). The JSA is an organization RIFE with all time great love stories. But Jay and Joan Garrick were not a love story, they were the kind of light up the room, keep the conversation going, huddle the whole gang around the fireplace talking about nothing until sun up kind of couple. Socially, the entire JSA revolved around them.

And they danced. Boy did they DANCE. The kind of dancing that only a midwestern couple like that CAN do. The kind that got everybody up on their feet and clapping with the steps. The kind where a sweep of her simple dress somehow made her look like a twin city princess. The kind where a simple flourish and a dip made Jay seem like the most romantic leading man of all time. They danced because their happiness was infectious, and every time they did, a simple benefit party became a barn burner.

(A picture, originally secret. From Jay Garrick's bachelor party. June, 1947. For those of you wondering. That makes this June their 77th)