#Sandman rarepair fest 2024

[sandman-rarepair-fest]

Introducing the Sandman Rarepair Fest, Sep. 13-16, 2024!

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ABOUT!

Hello, Sandman fans! This is a small event to celebrate pairings which often don't get central stage: rarepairs!

What's a rarepair? We have defined "rarepair" as ships and pairings with under 200 works on AO3 as qualifying. We know fandom takes place here and on other sites as well, but it's a solid metric to go by!

Types of fanworks: We will be accepting fanworks such as fanfiction, fanart, podfics, fanvids, playlists, moodboards, filk, and rec lists for the event. There are no content restrictions: ship and let ship.

The rules, FAQ, posting guidelines, etc: We will be tracking the tag "sandman rarepair fest," accepting submissions, and have an AO3 Collection! Additional rules, minimum content requirements, posting guidelines to be reblogged by us on Tumblr, and an FAQ are available here.

Your mods for this event are Meadow ( @meadowziplines ), Karalyn ( @karalynlovescake ) and Readertee.

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PROMPTS: Choose one or more for each day!

Fri, Sep. 13: Hurt/Comfort | Rivals or Enemies to Lovers | Polyamory | Emotional Sex

Sat, Sep. 14: Strangers to Lovers | AU/Crossover | Femslash | Dom/sub

Sun, Sep. 15: Friends to Lovers | Hand-holding | Queerplatonic Relationships | Kink Discovery

Mon, Sep. 16: Wingfic | Acts of Devotion | T4T | Monsterfucking

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FEST LINKS: Rules & FAQ || AO3 Collection

[bobbole]

The House that Daniel built

Daniel x the Corinthian fairytale

For the @sandman-rarepair-fest

Prompt: Kink Discovery

(click on the images to enlarge)

[writing-for-life]

Lupē

Finally, finally I manage a Calliope/Morpheus fic (the Sandman Rarepair Fest had to come along to kick me into gear). It’s just a short vignette, but I hope I did them justice because they will always be the OTP to me. The prompt is Hurt/Comfort.

You can read on Ao3 or here. And no matter where you read, your kudos, comments, shares and reblogs are so appreciated and help writers to get their stuff discovered 🖤

Lupē (616 words) by Writing-for-Life Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Calliope/Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Calliope/Dream of the Endless, Calliope & Dream of the Endless | Morpheus Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Reconciliation, Past Relationship(s), Rare Pairings, Canon Compliant, During Canon, Canon Related, Canon Rewrite Summary:

Calliope had wept for him so many times, and she felt the tight grip of grief resurfacing. She had mourned the laughter that would never echo through these halls again, the stories of his father he would never pass on to children of his own, the promise of a future shattered. […] And she was tired of mourning, of a grief that felt like it was hers alone to bear.

Lupē

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow upon the twisted spires of the castle. She had not returned here since that fateful day.

The Gatekeepers stood before her, eyes like onyx reflecting the aeons they had witnessed. Last time, they had been impassive, their voices cold as they denied her entry.

But tonight, something had changed: They recognised her.

"Calliope," the wyvern’s voice echoed through the mist. "You seek the Lord of Dreams."

She nodded, and her throat felt so tight she could barely swallow. "I come to speak to him."

Calliope's fingers trembled. She remembered the bitter words they had exchanged—the accusations, the tears. Later, Oneiros had been unyielding, her attempts to speak to him ignored. She was not even sure what would have happened had he acted differently then; the thought of bringing forth an apology entered her mind and was as quickly dismissed. She felt her hands ball into fists, bitterness resurfacing.

No, this is not the time.

The guardians exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. "Why are you here, muse?" the hippogriff asked.

She hesitated. "Our son's absence binds us, even in sorrow."

There was no more talk, no further interrogation. The gates just creaked open.

Calliope stepped across the threshold, and her footsteps echoed on the stairs and the marble corridors. With every step, her heart picked up pace until it was racing so fast she could hardly catch a breath.

The door was as she remembered—unchanged, the wood dark and polished, etched with symbols whose meaning she understood and yet didn’t.

Just like him.

But that wasn’t true. He had been changed when last they met. Familiar yet different, faint echoes of what once she loved—and hated.

Calliope pushed the door open, and the air itself seemed to hold its breath. For a moment, she wondered what she had expected to find. How she had expected him to greet her. And then she knew that this was exactly it:

His back turned on her, no sign of movement, frozen in space.

She crossed the room, her breath catching in her throat, unable to speak.

She didn’t have to.

"Calliope," he whispered, still not turning. There was a rawness to his voice, even in that whisper, that caught her unaware.

She reached for him, without any hesitation, and while it surprised her, it felt right. As her hand touched his shoulder, he flinched subtly, but he didn't pull away.

When he finally turned, his eyes held galaxies, and their shared history was etched on his face—the pain, the longing—it was all there, laid bare.

And it was hard not to see Orpheus in him. Hard not to remember how he had told him stories, his voice like a melody spun from darkness and light, stardust and moonbeams, while the boy’s laughter would echo through the halls of the castle, and his cries for more brought a moment of happiness to everyone who heard it.

And then it was gone.

Calliope had wept for him so many times, and she felt the tight grip of grief resurfacing. She had mourned the laughter that would never echo through these halls again, the stories of his father he would never pass on to children of his own, the promise of a future shattered.

She had sung dirges and sought solace in memories, but they only deepened the pain.

And she was tired of mourning, of a grief that felt like it was hers alone to bear.

In that moment, his eyes searched hers. “You came.” And perhaps, they were seeking answers and forgiveness.

“You called.”

And perhaps, they were also holding the faint glimmer of hope…

[meadowziplines]

rating: T

more on the bookbirds polycule for the rarepair fest, ft. Queerplatonic Relationships + hand-holding and QPR Dream/Jessamy

Though suffering under workplace abuse by Roderick Burgess, Dream is unwilling to leave his job at a nonprofit due to the nature of his work. When Dream becomes ill enough out of fear of missing work to require surgery, the hospital calls his queerplatonic partner Jessamy as his emergency contact. In the aftermath, Dream must finally accept he cannot do further good at his job and needs to prioritize himself, and their relationship will undergo further changes as they both deal with what's happened.

[samsalami66]

Early Ball For My Goalie

Look at that, another part of the soccer au! This time, a little glimpse into my new favourite rarepair, Construction (if you have wondered who the mother of little Lily is... you will find out now !)

This was written for the wonderful @sandman-rarepair-fest, which gave me the motivation to write this thing in the first place!

Prompt: Strangers to Lovers

Rating: Teen and Up

Status: Complete

Words: 1,138

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Tags: First Meetings, Crush at First Sight, Dominant Johanna, Destruction is so gone for her

Summary: John surprises the team during their usual Saturday Drink Night by introducing his cousin Johanna. Clearly, he has an ulterior motive to sitting her directly next to Olethros... and he rather quickly finds out just what exactly that motive is.

Read below or on AO3!

Some music, a good beer and even better company were all the things Olethros needed to enjoy a Saturday evening. And between the 80s’ rock, the New Inn’s craft beer, and his team, there really was no better way to spend a weekend night. 

Though this particular Saturday might have the potential to be the best in a row of great ones, all thanks to a new addition to their weekly meet-ups. When John had arrived with a mischievous smile on his face and a beautiful woman on his arm, all silky brown hair and eyes shining with joy, Olethros had simply raised an eyebrow at him. John was really the furthest thing from straight, probably only topped by their resident manwhore himself, Corin Thian. But once he introduced the woman as his cousin, Johanna, things came into perspective. 

The guy was up to something. 

Not that Olethros had the time to think about that particular fact for much longer, as John ushered her into the booth right next to him, so that they were pressed together from shoulder to thigh. Everywhere they touched, Olethros felt warmth bloom, racing up his body and into his chest so it might send his heart into overdrive. 

God, but it had been so long since he had felt this way after a mere glance and touch from a woman, like the blush on his cheeks might go up in flames if she so much as dared to speak to him. 

“So, you’re the goalie, then?”

Olethros knew the tips of his ears were growing hot, and he could practically feel the team’s amused eyes staring him down. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” he cleared his throat and turned more towards Johanna, giving her his full attention. “The name’s Olethros, but my friends call me Olly.”

As was customary for an introduction, Olethros held out his hand towards her, which Johanna took with a firmer grip than he would have expected from a woman so slight. The look in her eyes spoke of challenge and mischief, a competitive fire that Olethros wanted to meet all too readily. He was a player at heart, after all. 

“Olethros,” Johanna repeated, slowly, as if rolling the name around in her mouth. It sounded good in her voice, in her accent. “Eccentric parents?”

A laugh escaped him before he could even try to keep himself back. 

“You could say that. Though I think compared to some of my siblings, I got off lightly.” Johanna prompted him to elaborate with a raised eyebrow, and Olethros continued with a smile underlying his words that he couldn’t quite seem to shake. “Alright, from oldest to youngest, there are Potmos, Teleute, Morpheus, myself, Epithumia, Aponoia and Delilah.”

Beside him, Johanna snorted inelegantly, and Olethros almost didn’t feel the pang of hurt at speaking Del’s name over the warmth that rose in his chest. 

“Seems like your parents had a bit of a change of mind between child six and seven… But, really mate, seven children? Bet your childhood was a real treat.” 

Olethros’ answering smile was weak but genuine, a sad thing that he tried to hide behind a sip of his beer. 

“You could say that… What about you? Any siblings to speak of?”

“Nah,” Johanna nodded in John’s direction, who was basically sitting in Cori’s lap with how he was draped over him, deep in conversation. “That disaster of a man is as close to a brother as I’ll get.”

“John’s a good guy. Though he never mentioned you before, which is a true tragedy.” 

Johanna tsked at that and threw her cousin a disappointed glare, which the man probably didn’t notice, with how far down Corin’s throat his tongue was now. It would have been impressive, if Olethros didn’t have to deal with them every single day during training. 

“Bet he hasn’t, the little shite. I’ve been out of the UK for a while, only came back this weekend. So I’m not too surprised he forgot to mention his favourite cousin before.”

For a moment, Olethros bit his tongue in order to keep in the words which were threatening to spill. But Johanna’s open smile and imploring eyes were all that he needed to let loose what he usually wouldn’t, the words he knew were too much and too soon. 

“I don’t know how anyone could forget you,” the words came out stumbling, which made Olethros feel like an inexperienced teenager talking to his first crush, but Johanna’s eyes still seemed to darken at his words, emboldening him to go on. “I know I certainly won’t, after tonight.” 

Quite suddenly, Olethros felt a hand on his thigh, lithe and hot and strong as it gave the muscle a firm squeeze, and it took everything in him not to whimper at the touch. God, but he loved himself a woman that took charge. 

“Actually, Olethros, I’m currently looking for a place to stay, here in London.” Johanna drawled, her nails scraping along the inside of his thigh, and Olethros was a very weak man if the groan he let out at this teasing touch was any indication. 

“You barely know me,” he answered, slightly breathless, and choked at the smirk Johanna threw at him, the way she licked her lips while staring into his very soul. 

“Think I’d like to, though.”

Her words were followed  by a pinch so high up his thigh it was surely deemed inappropriate in public, which had Olethros gasp a desperate breath and nod, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah, alright. I, I have a couch-” 

That sentence was interrupted by a thumb on his lower lip, pressing slightly into his mouth. Olethros felt his knees going weak. 

“I think I’d prefer a bed, for the first time.” 

Right, he could be so normal about that. No need to whine or moan like a needy lapdog. Except he did both, loud enough that at least six heads turned towards him, and Olethros could feel John’s stupid grin from across the table. 

“And we should leave, I think.” she added with a glare towards her cousin, before grabbing Olethros’ hand and pulling him upright. Despite her lesser height it didn’t seem like much of a problem to her, and for a brief moment Olethros wondered if she could throw him around if he let her, once they got home. In the next moment, Olethros realised that the idea sent a small thrill up his spine, and he scrambled to get out of the booth and into his jacket, which Johanna straightened for him with a small grin. 

“Have fun, you two!” John called after them as they hurried out of the New Inn, and when Johanna interlaced their fingers with a laugh, Olethros got the feeling that this was the beginning of something truly wonderful.

[karalynlovescake]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Despair of the endless/Lucifer Morningstar Characters: Despair of the Endless, Lucifer Morningstar (Vertigo Comics) Additional Tags: Femdom, Despair's hook ring, Blood, the general awfulness of Hell, Lucifer has a cock, they're an angel and thus can make an Effort in whatever direction obviously, explicit sex that is also somehow metaphysical, Crying After Sex Summary:

Dream had loved the angel Samael, brightest dreamer amongst the angels, who had never known Despair's touch.

But Lucifer? Who once had sat in one of the highest thrones in the Silver City, only to be cast down into utter darkness? No one in existence had ever had a more faithful suitor than Despair had in the ruler of Hell.

=========================

Hey I forgot I have a computer again and can post this link from tumblr, I invented a new ship again!

[rhosyn-du]

The Case of the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Dates, chapter 1

Dead Boy Detectives/The Sandman crossover | Jenny Green/Johanna Constantine | Explicit | WIP

Tags for this chapter: Case Fic, Strangers to Lovers, Casual Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Panic Attacks

Link on AO3

For the @sandman-rarepair-fest prompts Strangers to Lovers, AU/Crossover, and Femslash

Summary:

Jenny didn't leave her flat planning to have a semi-public anonymous hookup. She was supposed to be having drinks—and hopefully sex—with a woman she met through a dating app Crystal talked her into downloading—"I'm not saying you should go out looking for your soulmate; I'm just saying maybe you'd feel better if you got laid. Have you even relaxed for five minutes since you got off the plane?"—but Natalya hadn't shown up at the pub she suggested they meet at. But there there was a pretty brunette at the bar with a cocky smirk and a foul mouth who turned out to be every bit as hot as she was annoying and also extremely down for a quick fuck in the restroom and absolutely nothing more than that. Which is probably for the best, Jenny figures. Someone who isn't interested enough to take her home or even ask her name is far less likely to turn out to be a grifter or a control freak or a stalker with homicidal tendencies.

The last thing Jenny wants or needs is to get dragged into another one of the Dead Boy Detective Agency’s cases. Unfortunately, the universe has it out for her. At least the sex is good?

Public restrooms are nicer in London than in Port Townsend. Jenny's been told with a startling amount of vehemence by multiple people that they're nicer all over the UK than anywhere in the States, but she hasn't exactly done a personal survey of the country. Even with her limited experience of public restrooms—toilets, she thinks inanely; they're called toilets here—she can definitely say she's never been tempted to have sex in the toilet of a sketchy pub before.

"Your jeans are too damned tight," the woman whose name Jenny didn't bother asking complains between heated kisses.

"You seemed plenty happy with them when you were checking out my ass," Jenny points out, pausing in her quest to unfasten the truly stupid number of tiny buttons on the woman's shirt to help unfasten her own jeans.

Jenny didn't leave her flat planning to have a semi-public anonymous hookup. She was supposed to be having drinks—and hopefully sex—with a woman she met through a dating app Crystal talked her into downloading—"I'm not saying you should go out looking for your soulmate; I'm just saying maybe you'd feel better if you got laid. Have you even relaxed for five minutes since you got off the plane?"—but Natalya hadn't shown up at the pub she suggested they meet at. But there there was a pretty brunette at the bar with a cocky smirk and a foul mouth who turned out to be every bit as hot as she was annoying and also extremely down for a quick fuck in the restroom and absolutely nothing more than that. Which is probably for the best, Jenny figures. Someone who isn't interested enough to take her home or even ask her name is far less likely to turn out to be a grifter or a control freak or a stalker with homicidal tendencies.

And it's extremely unlikely Natalya would have been this talented with her fingers, holy fuck. Jenny makes a noise she's not at all proud of, head falling back against the wall of the toilet stall as the woman works her clit with deft fingers that don't seem at all hindered by the tightness of her jeans.

"Knew you'd be loud once I got you going," the woman says smugly, urging one of Jenny's legs up over her hip to give her better access.

Jenny wants to argue, but she's really not in any position for it, so she settles for unceremoniously pulling open the last of the buttons on the woman's shirt and finally getting her hands on her tits while doing her best to bite back the sounds she wants to be making.

The woman pushes into Jenny's touch with a pleased hum. "That wasn't a complaint, to be clear." She leans in, their difference in height being just enough to put her lips against Jenny's throat, over the racing beat of her pulse, as she says, "Let me hear you."

"Are you trying to get us kicked out?" Jenny asks even as she shifts her weight so that her own thigh is pressed firmly between the other woman's, and her thumbs brush over stiff nipples.

"Not gonna happen," the woman gasps, rolling her hips eagerly against Jenny's thigh. "The owner owes me."

Any attempt Jenny might have made to ask what exactly the owner owes is completely derailed by the woman sliding two of those clever fingers inside Jenny's cunt as she scrapes her teeth along Jenny's neck in sharp counterpoint. There's no hope of keeping quiet then, not with the woman's fingers inside her while her thumb works her clit, alternating sloppy kisses and sharp nips and sharper curses against Jenny's throat while she rides Jenny's thigh like it's her fucking job.

It's quick and it's frenzied and it's nothing at all like most of the sex Jenny has had in her life. It's also kind of amazing. She tilts her head down so she can capture that filthy mouth with her own, and then lets herself get lost in the slick slide of fingers and tongues, in the frantic rutting and the desperate, grasping pleasure that rises in her like a tidal wave: inevitable and devastating.

Jenny screams when she comes, not even caring anymore who might hear, especially with the woman gasping a litany of fuck, fuck, fuck as she works Jenny through the aftershocks, her own hips starting to stutter. Jenny has just enough piece of mind to grab the woman by the hips, pulling her tight against her thigh as she shudders through her own orgasm moments later.

They stay like that for a few moments as they catch their breath. Just as Jenny is starting to feel the faintest twinges of awkwardness—Do you kiss after a toilet stall hookup? Is that a thing? Should she say thank you? What's the etiquette here?—the woman pulls back with a soft laugh.

"Fuck, I needed that."

Jenny's agreement turns into a gasp as the woman pulls her fingers from Jenny's cunt, seeming to consider for half a second before popping them into her mouth and sucking them clean.

Jenny realizes she's staring and quickly looks away, busying herself with the process of refastening her jeans and making some vague attempt and straightening her clothes so she doesn't look quite so much like she just got extremely well-fucked by a complete stranger.

When she looks up again, the woman is fastening the last of the buttons on her shirt, looking far less flustered than Jenny feels.

"Right," Jenny says. "I'm gonna—" She gestures toward the exit. "Thanks," she adds, and then she leaves before she can find out if that was entirely the wrong thing to say.

She feels a brief moment of relief when she heads back out into the pub and the woman behind the bar doesn't give her a second glance—maybe she hadn't been quite so loud as she thought?—but then she sees how the three women at the table closest to the restroom are looking at her, and she ducks her head and hightails it out into the comforting blanket of fog that feels almost like home if she doesn't look or listen too closely.

She's halfway back to her flat before she realizes that she really does feel better, and much less tense than she has been since she arrived in London four months ago. Maybe even less tense than she's felt since before she watched the woman trying to kill her die a gruesome death in front of her and got possessed by a literal demon and watched her livelihood go up in flames and, oh yeah, started seeing ghosts.

Dammit.

Crystal is going to be so fucking smug when she finds out she was right.

~~~

"I take it the date went well?”

Briana is usually Jenny's favorite coworker, partly because she mixes a better drink than any other bartender Jenny's met, and partly because she doesn't usually ask about Jenny's personal life.

"It wasn't a date," Jenny says, reaching for her apron. "And anyway, she didn't show."

Briana studies her. "But you did have a good time last night." It's not a question.

"A better time than I'm having right now," Jenny tells her, pulling on her hair net.

Jenny is extremely grateful when Briana's questioning is interrupted by the arrival of their boss, who greets them with his ever-friendly smile.

"Ah, Jenny, do you have a minute before you start? I wanted to talk some scheduling with you."

"Sure thing," Jenny says, happily abandoning Briana and her prying in favor of following Rob back to the office.

When the insurance rep told Jenny exactly how long it was likely to take before she saw any money from the destruction of her butcher shop, she'd been livid. That lasted about an hour, until she realized she was in an unfamiliar city—an unfamiliar country—with no money to start fresh like she planned and exactly no experience working for anyone other than herself and before that her parents, at which point it turned to mild panic. When Edwin mentioned that the agency's landlord also owned a pub and had mentioned something about needing to hire new back of house staff, Jenny was extremely dubious. Not only was working a kitchen very different from running a butcher shop, but she was more than a little wary about working for the kind of guy who rented office space to a couple of teenage ghosts.

But Rob turned out to be a decent guy, and almost freakishly normal from everything Jenny's seen. He inherited the New Inn along with the building Charles and Edwin—and now Crystal—work out of and a few other properties from his favorite uncle, but that's the most remarkable thing about him other than the whole seeing and talking to ghosts thing, and she's hardly going to hold nearly drowning as a child against him. The man is a part-time history lecturer at City University and wears loafers, so Jenny figures he's pretty low on the list of people likely to drag her into more supernatural weirdness or attempted homicide, and he pays her better than she's probably worth given her lack of experience.

All in all, it's a pretty good deal, especially since Rob knows she'll be gone as soon as her insurance money comes through and she can find a decent shop space to rent.

Jenny stops dead in her tracks when she sees the two people already waiting in Rob's office.

"No," she says flatly, addressing the two ghosts—one leaning against the office wall and the other perched on the edge of Rob's desk—before turning on her boss. "What the hell, Rob? You said you wanted to talk about scheduling."

It's not that she has anything against Charles and Edwin, but Crystal's two ghost friends are private detectives who take jobs for other ghosts, and the fact that they're ambushing her at work suggests this isn't a social call. The last thing she wants is to get caught up in one of their cases. Again.

"This is about scheduling," Edwin says, "in part."

"We need an assist on our latest case and Robbie's got a friend with the right kind of skills," Charles adds.

"I figure it'll be safer for everyone involved if I make the introduction at the Inn." Rob's tone is apologetic. "You're the only one on staff unlikely to get freaked out if anyone gets shouty about things, so I was wondering if you'd mind closing up tonight so I can invite her over and make the introduction after close. I know you're only scheduled until ten, but I'm happy to pay you double for the extra hours."

"I don't mind closing," Jenny says, "but what's the catch?"

"No catch, I swear," Rob says, holding up his hands. "I wouldn't even ask, but I've got an early lecture tomorrow and would rather not be up prepping the kitchen by myself after I introduce the boys to my friend."

Despite the revelation that Rob apparently has a friend with skills to help Charles and Edwin on one of their cases, Jenny doesn't get the sense that he's trying to deceive her in any way.

She looks at Edwin. "You said 'in part.' So what's the catch."

"Ah," Edwin says, sliding off the desk. "It's not a catch, per se."

"Eds," Charles chides softly. "What he means is, we've got a message for you. From our client."

Jenny feels the bottom of her stomach drop out. "Your client?" she repeats. Their client can only mean another ghost. Someone who died.

"Natalya Mesi," Edwin says. "She wants you to know that she's very sorry for missing your appointment last night, but she was quite dead by then."

~~~

Rob is nice enough to give Jenny some privacy and a very stiff drink—on the house—after Charles and Edwin leave. She goes through the remainder of her shift in a daze, glad that the dinner rush doesn't prove to be too much for her distracted mind to handle and that Eoin doesn't comment on her much more frequent than usual minor fuckups. Jenny decides he's her new favorite coworker.

Crystal arrives just before closing, slipping back to the kitchen to give Jenny a quick, fierce hug.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, and Jenny knows she's apologizing as much for pushing Jenny to download the dating app in the first place as expressing condolences for the death of a non-quite-acquaintance.

"I didn't even know her," Jenny says when Crystal releases her. "Not really."

"I'm still sorry," Crystal insists. "You didn't want to be involved in any of our cases, and I got you involved, sort of, so I'm sorry."

"If I were that worried about it, I would have stayed in Port Townsend," Jenny points out, as if staying in Port Townsend with the memories of Niko and Maxine and her parents and her shop and every person and every dream she's ever lost wouldn't have been a complete nightmare. But. She didn't have to come to London.

Crystal squeezes her arms and offers her a weak smile. "I'm glad you're here."

It's a slow enough night that there are no stragglers by the time closing rolls around, and Eoin is out the door in time for Rob to lock up behind him. Rob says something about his friend running late, and Jenny tries to ignore the two living humans and two ghosts talking quietly at a table in the corner while she cleans the grill and wipes down the counters and refills the condiment bottles, but her eyes keep drifting over to the only people who know the answer to the question that's been plaguing her since that afternoon. The question she didn't have the courage to ask at the time.

She makes it halfway through refilling the salt shakers before stalking over to the table and demanding, "How did Natalya die?"

The four at the table look up at her and then exchange uneasy glances with each other.

"We aren't exactly sure about that yet," Charles says. "That's sort of what we're investigating."

"But you know something," Jenny presses. "That's why you're here to meet Rob's friend, right? Because you found something you need help with?"

"We could be wrong, though," Crystal says. "And it's not anything you need to worry about—"

"All signs point to demonic activity," Rob interrupts, and Jenny is grateful to him for saying it even as the room starts to go fuzzy around the edges.

"The woman I was supposed to meet for drinks was murdered by a demon?" Jenny hardly recognizes her own voice, high-pitched and squeaky as it is.

"We don't know that a demon did the actual killing," Edwin explains, "but we're fairly certain a demon was involved. Your friend is actually quite lucky. A demon could have done far worse than kill her."

"She wasn't my friend," Jenny says faintly, grabbing for a nearby chair to keep herself upright before her knees give out completely.

She misses, and only Rob's quick reflexes save her from falling on her ass.

"I got you," he says as he hoists her with surprising strength into the chair she'd failed to grab onto. "Just breathe. You're safe. No demons here, I promise."

Jenny does her best to follow his instruction to breathe, trying to force her lungs to expand and contract in some sort of regular rhythm. It's not the first panic attack she's had in the past six months. It's not the tenth. But every one is as awful as the last.

She has no idea how long she spends struggling to calm her heart, her lungs, her mind, only that she's only just managed to start feeling like an actual person again when she's startled by the sound of the bells over the tavern's entrance. Which makes no sense, because didn't Rob lock the door?

Dazedly, Jenny looks up only to find the very last person she's expecting to see. She blinks her eyes several times, but the image doesn't change.

"Damn exorcism ran long," the woman says, shrugging out of her pale coat.

This time, Jenny notes a little hysterically, the shirt underneath doesn't have any of those absurd tiny buttons.

"Demons are not terribly respectful of your time, are they?" Rob says wryly. "These are the tenants I was telling you about. Charles, Edwin, and Crystal of the Dead Boy Detective Agency. And this is Jenny, who's on staff here at the New Inn.

“Everyone, this is Johanna Constantine. If you've a demon problem, she's the best person I can think of to help you solve it."

[lumosatnight]

Year in Review 2023

I did this for 2022 and I couldn't pass up the opportunity for more stats. Thanks @oknowkiss (x) for the tag! Here is my year in review: 2023 edition 🥳

Stats

Word Count: 339,585 (86,974 new)

Hits: 136,378 (68,393 new)

Number of Fics started and finished: 12 over 1k and 49 under 1k

Number of WIPs started: idk... like 10? 20?

Ships I wrote this year (not including background ships): Lots and lots and lots but mostly Drarry (8), Snarry (2), Drarius (2), Fleurmione (2), Lunansy (2), and Cissamione (2)

Favorite ship(s): This year maybe Narlily, Snarry, Luther, Mollytrix

Least favorite ship(s): This year I was introduced to Marylily and Rosekiller and idk they just don't vibe with me.

AO3 Fic Writers/Artists/Creators/Readers who have inspired me and my writing this year:

@itsphantasmagoria for their incredible Drarry video game

@sleepstxtic for her incredible range of fic and nuanced depictions of canon including my fav fic of the year!

@anaxandria-writes for binding my fic!!! I am so grateful and inspired.

@givereadersahug for organizing @hprecfest and always being so joyous and enthusiastic about rare pairs (you will be very missed, my dear 💗)

Countdown

5️⃣ Top 5 works I’m most proud of from 2022 (not necessarily my most popular)

For I have Found Salvation [Snarry, E, 7.1k] — for @snarryauctoberfest with priest Severus and parishioner Harry. My very first Snarry fic!

Of Dreams and Death [Dronarry, T, 2.3k] — for @dronarryfest and had so much fun plopping the characters into the Sandman AU.

up here, i'm floating [Mollytrix, M, 1.2k] — for the @hpsaffics Secret Santa Exchange. This is possibly one of my fav ships. I'm glad I got the chance to write them as angsty as I wanted.

Such a Sweetheart [Fleuratrix, T, 2.4k] — for the HPFC server Untagged Fest. A horror coffeeshop AU!

Kinktober 2023 [Multiship, E, total 15.5k] — technically a series but my first time participating in Kinktober. I was worried I wasn't going to finish all the days in time.

4️⃣ Top 4 current WIPs that I’m most excited to release in 2023

Honestly no idea yet. I have a lot of ideas on the back burner but none that are MUST DO RIGHT NOW. But I will say that I'm excited for bunch of fests like @hptransfest @ladiesofhpfest @hptriadfest and @hp-rarepairs

3️⃣ Top 3 biggest improvements in my writing over the past year

Smut!! I've developed my smut writing a lot. Kinktober really opened my eyes to a lot of kinks as well 👀

Tone: I think I'm getting a lot better at matching tone in my writing for consistent characterizations and building atmosphere

Estimating word count: I've gotten so much better at looking at an idea and predicting how long the final story is going to be.

2️⃣ Top 2 resolutions (ways I wish to improve my writing/blog) for the new year

FINISH A LONGER WORK!! This was on my resolutions from last which I didn't complete lol. It's okay, I'll try again this year.

Create a more consistent writing schedule

1️⃣ Number 1 favorite line I’ve written this year!

Harry Potter has a tiny dick. It’s just a fact of life. The Chosen Microdick, the Small Saviour, the Boy with an Itty Bitty Package. And oh, how Draco loves it.

From The Chosen Microdick [Drarry, E, 500], part of my Kinktober 2023 series and I just love the play on words here. A banging start to a banging series 🤣

Not sure who has already done a stats roundup/fic review/2023 thingy, so I'll leave the tag open.

Happy 2024! 💖

[writing-for-life]

Aftermath

Art by Michael Zulli, words by @writing-for-life

Her pain a storm,

Her fury unbound,

Truth in chaos.

Quiet aftermath.

Bonds untied

And yet unbroken.

Forgiveness flows.

Born of love and sorrow

A Dream of both worlds.

A little poem for day one of the Sandman Rarepair Fest (hurt/comfort).

I hope this is okay since this isn’t a fic and hence under 100 words, but I couldn’t find anything about poetry. It’s also not a slash pair, but I hope that hurt/comfort applies to more than those.

Even if not, their relationship is very special to me, and I’ll simply put it out in the ether for everyone who feels the same.

[writing-for-life]

Dreams of Light

Art by JH Williams III, words by @writing-for-life

Another poem for the @sandman-rarepair-fest , this time for the Hand Holding prompt.

I wish I’d found the time to write a fic for the event for these two, and I will one day—Alianora is such an important and yet ignored character.

Dreams of Light

[Alt text for the poem]

From realms unknown

She came to be.

Bearing a scar

Of battles won.

Dreams are shaped

Hand in hand.

Touch builds worlds

And weaves love.

Time is a thief

Of joy and light,

Casting shadows

On what once was.

And love dies

In silence.

Pain remains

Just like scars.

Final farewells

Holding echoes

Of dreams of light

In endless night.

[The metre/syllabic structure in this killed me, but that just as an aside 🤣]

[writing-for-life]

The Self-Love, Sex and Pursuit of the Helm Novels

Part 2: Bully for You—An Unhinged Interlude

Okay, I’ve spent the whole @sandman-rarepair-fest with tragic relationships, poetry and being serious.

And while this relationship is also… tragic, it’s neither poetic nor to be taken seriously, although a small group of us are fully committed to the cause: Behold, the crack ship! Morpheus x The Helm! For the Monsterfucker prompt.

(It’s highly advisable to read part one first, but they can sort of exist independently. Just not as well 🤣)

Bully For You: An Unhinged Interlude (2321 words) by Writing-for-Life Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, Desire of the Endless, The Helm (The Sandman) Additional Tags: I Blame Tumblr, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Or Is It?, Muhulhu, Drat! A HelmLord Story, Murphy and his Cool Hat, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Swearing, Masturbation, Anal Something, Because I have no clue what they are doing honestly, helm fucking, Monsterfucking of sorts, It's a Dream of a Thousand Cats Situation, At least a thousand fanfic writers were thinking of the same thing, but he actually enjoyed it, although he would never admit to it, Dream and the Helm finally get it on, About Time, tags what tags they make no sense, don't get your hopes up, this is not really smut, it has all the marks of being explicit, but somehow it's really not Series: Part 2 of The Self-Love, Sex and Pursuit of the Helm Novels: A Tragicomedy in Three Movements Summary:

Where we witness how the Lord of Dreams loses his bearings (no, not those ones), and even Desire needs a stiff drink…

If you always wanted to know what's so special about Dream's relationship with his Helm (capital H on occasion), this might provide some answers. Or raise more questions than you ever dared to ask...

Excerpt:

Desire had felt… things for a short while but shrugged the sensations off. Until they became impossible to ignore. Because he wanted something without their doing (although what comes first, or who, was sometimes hard to tell, but not to get lost in details at this point, dear reader). In lieu of ridiculous desires like “something beyond my function, blah blah”, it would usually be shaped like a woman. Since Desire had given him Killalla (and maybe, just maybe, taken her away again, which still made them chuckle), he had developed a bit of a kink for female-shaped mortals. Well, they hadn’t all been mortal, but the “female-shaped” still stood. And because of the mere fact that their brother was so painfully strait-laced (we suggest the spelling “straight-laced” here, dear reader), it came as a bit of a surprise to feel those decidedly different vibes. Dream wanted something. But it wasn’t a woman, or anything remotely female-shaped. It was…

What the heck was it?

Desire concentrated really hard.

It seemed to be something forged in the fever dream of a blacksmith who took his inspiration from a lobster and a nightmare. Something otherworldly, something with a spine like the tail of a crustacean. Truly, if a lobster decided to pursue a career in gothic architecture and at the same time became some sort of… headgear, it would probably look like this.

Desire first rolled their eyes but then felt their breath catching. “It’s his fucking helm,” they muttered. “Please give me a break. He wants to fuck his helm…”

Brother Dream, master of the subconscious, running his hand tenderly, with a slight shake, over the spine of that ludicrous thing. Desire laughed out loud, but the laugh was short-lived, because things began to unravel. Rapidly…

Read the rest here (otherwise I have to add a content label 🤣)

[sandman-rarepair-fest]

Just over a week until the Sandman Rarepair Fest commences! (Sep. 13-16)

For ships/pairings under 200 works in the Sandman universe ~

We hope to reblog Many Things! Many fanworks! Of many kinds! :D Like fanfiction, fanart, podfics, fanvids, playlists, moodboards, filk, and rec lists!

(As a reminder use #sandman rarepair fest when posting on Tumblr: we will be tracking that tag, and our Submit box and Ao3 collection are also open for those!)

_ _ _ _ _

Quick links:

Event intro post! (Also our pinned post)

2024 Prompts

Rules & FAQ 

AO3 Collection (External link to AO3)

[meadowziplines]

Rating: M

It's Lucienne's birthday, and Jessamy has made some plans. Slice of life with a fade to black scene with Jessamy/Lucienne at the end.

For the Sandman Rarepair Fest day 2, filling 'femslash' and hinting at dom/sub.

[writing-for-life]

As It Was Before The Otherness Came

This isn’t a new fic, but I’ll still repost it for the femslash prompt of the @sandman-rarepair-fest because I have a soft spot for these two and always wondered about their story. So here it is…

You can read both on Tumblr or Ao3 (kudos, comments, reblogs and shares are still appreciated).

As It Was Before The Otherness Came (3717 words) by Writing-for-Life Chapters: 13/13 Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Modern Johanna Constantine/Rachel Moodie Characters: Modern Johanna Constantine (The Sandman TV), Rachel Moodie, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Dream of the Endless Additional Tags: Falling In Love, Developing Relationship, Sex, Moving In Together, Break Up, Emotional Baggage, Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Canon Compliant, Canon, Swearing, Femslash Summary:

Johanna Constantine and Rachel Moodie are recounting their developing and failing relationship in short, intercutting scenes. Johanna tells her story from end to beginning (she is starting with Rachel's death), and Rachel from beginning to end (she starts with how they met). The song inspiration is "As it was" by Hozier.

[sandman-rarepair-fest]

Day 1 of the rarepair fest commences!

We are tracking the "sandman rarepair fest" tag on Tumblr!

_ _ _ _ _

Fri, Sep. 13

Hurt/Comfort | Rivals or Enemies to Lovers | Polyamory | Emotional Sex

_ _ _ _ _

Event intro post! (Also our pinned post)

2024 Prompts

Rules & FAQ 

AO3 Collection (External link to AO3)

[meadowziplines]

Death/Johanna for day 1 of the rarepair fest ! Enemies to Lovers. (or more like very antagonistic dislike at first?)

Johanna has a near-death experience. Death of the Endless is very bad at flirting.

Constantine glared daggers at her. Her trench coat was half-shredded and scorched, and she was covered in demon blood, ichor, and the general layer of grime that seemed to liberally coat parts of London by default. Her face also looked haggard. "Near death experiences can be a bit shocking, and you look rough. Food helps. Have an apple," Death said cheerfully, lobbing one she'd recently bought, and turned to de-manifest.