#Sandman rarepairs

[windsweptinred]

Happy anniversary @bobbole my darling. The Corinthiel tag offically turns one today! Alas I haven't done a new work for the occassion as I've been away. But here are some WIP pages from my scrapbook to mark the boys day. 💚🤍

[sevrinve]

sandflower !!

[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)

[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."

[windsweptinred]

I'm a bit of a multishipper so I dip in and out of many a ship. But my all time favourite Sandman rairpairs are Desunity and Corinthiel, I could talk about them ceaselessly if given the opportunity.

Desunity, Desire x Unity Kinkaid

'Technically' canon. And so full of vast, unexplored potential. This ship definitely works more following the Netflix adaptation, where we see the more heinously problematic elements of it softened. And Sandra James-Young portrays Unity as a tower of strength, fully capable of putting an Endless in their place. Unity is the contentment to Desire's covetousness. The Love to Desire. A century long Dreaming marriage, from devious plan to actual emotions, a repentant reunion and what follows, bonding with the grandkids... There's so many ways you can go with this ship.

Corinthiel, The 2nd Corinthian x Daniel Hall

My boys 🤍💚🤍. The ultimate expression of, two beings, walking a path no one else can comprehend that binds them together. Both reborn, the same yet different, old but new. Always in the shadow of their former selves yet representing new beginnings. Danny's that little touch of human in Dream that makes him perfect for Cori. And The Corinthian was brought back for Daniel, to find and protect him and that mentality transcends Daniel's transition into Dream. It's a new dynamic between Dream of the Endless and his Nightmare Arcana and I live and breathe it.

I also have some crossover pairs...

Destiny of the Endless xAgnes Nutter (Good Omens) Because Destiny needs a strong northern woman with a wicked sense of humor to step on him. It's all about that book bonding bay bay. Plus, tell me Anathema isn't Destiny junior... Go on. You can't, can you? Virtue was Destinys and I will die on this hill! (Though I'm being drawn to the in universe pairing of Destiny x Rosemary aswell. I don't know, something about it just calls to me.)

Death of the Endless x Susan Sto Helit (Disc World) I will die for this ship. I've read other Death ships and liked them, but nothing will ever surpass my love for this crossover. Death having someone who understands the complexities of her function is everything! It's the sunny x raincloud dynamic sprinkled with goth. And I am obbsessed with the imagery of Susan coming to Death's defence with her sword/ Being the one to meet Death at the end of her centennial mortal day. Plus imagine the family dinners... Death + Death. 😆

And rarepaires I'm currently flirting with ...

Hobrinthian, The 1st Corinthian x Hob Gadling

Lucienne x Calliope

Constantdeath, Constantdream... Actually, any Johanna ship, just give Johanna the role of fandom bike she was born to be!!

Where to find them if you like the sound of them: I'd honestly just recommend going into the ship tags and having an explore. They're all quite small pairings in the grand scheme of things, so the only content you'll find is the positive kind. ☺️ The chances of finding these pairs in the wild is minimum to non existant. Regular visits to the ship tags is an absolute must for sandman rarepair shippers.

I'm looking forward to season 2 and the plethora of new ships I know it will bring with it. I still think Dreamling will remain the fandom juggernaut. But I'm hoping the more people learn about the amazing cast the Sandman has to offer, the more will spread their love to other ships aswell. 🤞🤞

realized i havent made a post about the sandman recently so i am stepping in tonight to make several.

look. i love dreamling. but i will not STAND to watch so many good ships get ignored in favor of this one because there are like eight non-dreamling-centric sandman fics on ao3.

like bro! i know we were hopped up on destruction x hob for a second there but we need to go back to that because whatever we were on was Good Shit. also, i doubt there is a single person on this website who doesn't have a weird relationship with religion, so with that in mind, we are sleeping on lucifer's potential there. and johanna constantine has every trait of a tumblr sexyman. as the only person to date who has written a gault/lucienne hallmark au, i need better writers than me to acknowledge that as well because OH MY GOD theyre like a workaholic in a dead end job ends up with the head of a labor union why arent we doing anything with that. and what are we doing with desire, guys. they're right there. come on.

[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…

[seiya-starsniper]

For the hurt/comfort prompts

I'd like 14 with Morphenne or 4 with Hobrintheus, please. I'm excited to what you would envision for either of them.

14 - "Thank you for sticking by my side." - from the Hurt/Comfort Prompts

This wip is MONTHS in the making, and I'm so happy to finally be able to share it! Big thanks to @sandman-rarepair-fest for giving me the motivation to finish it 😄 Go check out the other fics people are posting for the event!

Rating: General Status: Complete Chapters: 1/1 Words: 2,958 Warnings: No Warnings Apply Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Hell Invasion, Post-Battle, Feelings Realization, First Kiss Summary: Hell invades the Dreaming, and in the aftermath, Lucienne is always there for Dream. But who will be there for Lucienne when she needs help?

Read more below, or over on AO3: Hopelessly (I'll love you Endlessly)

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

When Hell makes its move on the Dreaming and attacks, aiming for a complete invasion, there are thousands of casualties in the ensuing battle. Some injuries are fatal, and Dream feels each last breath, every agonizing scream, as their brief lives blink in and then out of existence. Each death is a wound, more painful than any direct cut to Dream himself, and Lucifer’s demons know it. So they aim for the weaker dreams first, those easiest to kill, to maximize the quantity of injuries they can inflict on the Dream Lord before they eventually move to target the more powerful dreams who actually have a fighting chance. 

Fiddler’s Green devours a hundred demons before his pastures are burned to ash, Gault’s wings are torn from her back as she takes on a high ranked demon lord, and Cain for once does not get to kill his brother Abel, for another demon guts him first. Cain, in revenge, takes out three upper level demons before he too falls to the rage and brutality of Hell. 

It does not take them long to breach the outer walls of the castle. More dreams and nightmares fall. Dream cries in agony with each new one, and Lucienne grips him tight in her arms, her and Matthew’s presence the only comfort in the otherwise cold emptiness of the throne room.

Dream wants to fight, wants the demons Hell and Lucifer themselves to pay for what they’ve done. And they will. He is ready for them. They are ready for them.

What the demons of Hell do not know, what Dream has been carefully guarding since his return from a hundred years imprisonment is this: that the Dreaming has been refortified so that it may never fall to ruin in Dream’s absence again. Or in an invasion, such that the current situation is.

In each of the denizens of the Dreaming, Dream has placed a small piece of his power within them, effectively turning each and every one into a dreamstone, forever connected to their lord in such a way so that Dream will never be cut off from his realm again. Through this deepened bond with his subjects, they will always know where he is, and he, in turn, will always be able to call on them.

The deepened connection, however, has its drawbacks. Each new death feels like a cut directly to Dream’s body, to his soul, and he cannot help the torrent of grief that engulfs him every moment another dream perishes. But at the same time, their deaths are simultaneously a balm, an injection of power that revitalizes him. Each and every dream fallen in battle has not actually died, but instead, their essences have been called inside his body, providing Dream with a limitless supply of power and energy. Their wills too, lie intact within him, and Dream is filled with their hopes, their pain, their fury.

Only when the doors break down and Lucifer’s army spills into the throne room, does Lucienne release her hold on him. Dream can feel her smile at his back as he transforms into his Nightmare form, channeling the pain and rage of each and every fallen dream into one unrelenting attack after the other. The demons of Hell don’t stand a chance.

Lucifer flees, abandoning their own people to their deaths, when they see what Dream has done. What he has become. Dream chases them as far as the gates, and then roars in victory when the Lord of Hell disappears over the horizon. The message is clear. Dream of the Endless is more powerful than ever, and any that wishes to prove otherwise shall be met with the full strength of his power. 

Invoking such a power, however, has its own set of consequences.

When the last of the demons fall, and the Dreaming is once again safe, Dream collapses onto the floor of the throne room, crying in agony as he tries to soothe the pain of death for more than a thousand different entities residing within him. The dreams are loud in their sorrow, and it is so much grief, so much heartbreak, it is all too much. 

Fiddler’s Green is the first to be resurrected, and then Gault. It is all he can manage before Dream is reduced to a sobbing, useless mess. 

Lucienne holds him throughout the night, whispering words of comfort to Dream, and all that reside within him. It soothes the ache by the tiniest fraction, and he is grateful for her embrace. 

With each day that passes, Dream brings another dream, another nightmare, back to life. With each life revived, the agony fades, but the memories of their deaths, their feelings in those moments do not. Dream had accepted the risk of this when he had asked for the denizens’ permission to imbue himself even further into their lives. Each and every resident had given their consent, some more freely and easily than others, but all had agreed that not knowing where Dream had gone for the last hundred years was worse than what Dream was asking them to give him. 

Lucienne and Matthew stay by his side, holding vigil as Dream wrestles with the tangle of wills raging inside him. 

Eventually, Dream expels the last of the dreams from his body, and soon the only voice residing inside his head is his. He allows himself a short reprieve to rest and recover, then sets to repairing the damage to his castle. 

“No offense, boss,” Mervyn tells him days later, when Dream is feeling more himself, “but I never want to share a body with you and everyone else in here ever again.”

Dream laughs, despite himself, but when Mervyn is gone, he sobs into Lucienne’s arms, unsure why he is still feeling so emotionally fraught.

“You took on a lot to keep us all safe,” Lucienne tells him, her voice soothing and low. “You have never infused yourself so closely with us before. Of course it would overwhelm you.”

Dream knows this, and yet, still he feels like he is drowning in a sea of unending grief.

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

After he finishes repairing the castle, Dream takes some time to wander the Dreaming to assess the full extent of the damage done by Hell’s forces, Lucienne follows his lead, taking careful notes of all the things that need to be repaired, while also making sure that Dream does not take on too many restoration efforts in one sitting. Mervyn helps with some of the smaller repairs, however the large majority of fixes to the realm still fall to Dream to complete.

Dream expects Lucienne to eventually return to her librarian duties, once Dream is mostly recovered and well enough to fully dedicate himself to restoring the Dreaming to its former glory. But even after the majority of the realm has been recovered, Lucienne does not leave his side. Instead, she continues to keep vigil over Dream, never straying more than a few paces from him, when she can help it. In the days immediately after the attack, Dream had grown so used to her constantly being within his peripheral vision that it takes him some time to remember that this was not always how things had been between them. Even Matthew, who has never been more than breath away since he had become Dream’s raven, does not keep nearly as close of a watch on Dream these days. Because Lucienne is always there. 

“You do not need to be my shadow any longer, Lucienne,” Dream says one afternoon when they are alone together in the throne room and reviewing Mervyn’s latest reports of needed repairs. Most of the remaining items are small, with the exception of the Sea of Nightmares, which seems to have grown quite restless in the past few days. Though Dream would prefer to get the rest of the small repairs over and done with, so he can focus solely on the Sea of Nightmares, Lucienne has forbidden him from exerting any more of his powers for today. 

Lucienne purses her lips at his words, her eyes kind even as she frowns at him.

“I am where I am needed, sire,” she replies. Dream sighs. He had expected this.

“Lucienne, you have many responsibilities to attend to, and I am well enough to hold my own without your aid,” Dream says. 

Lucienne shakes her head. “You may need me, sire,” is all she says in response, before she returns back to reviewing Mervyn’s reports. 

Dream hates himself for not trying harder to keep Lucienne at bay, to insist that he is fine. But the truth of the matter is that Dream is tired. He is tired of his function, tired of having to defend himself and his realm time and time again, tired of carrying the weight of the entire universe and its unconscious minds on his shoulder with no hope for reprieve. 

The only time Dream feels even a modicum of relief is when Lucienne is there. Lucienne, who places his hand in hers and squeezes it to distract him from his maudlin thoughts. Lucienne, who takes stock of all the restored dreams and nightmares, ensuring that they have fully recovered from their ordeal with Hell’s minions. Lucienne, who still hums a lullaby in a long dead language from a long dead planet, in the quiet of the throne room, knowing that the sound soothes Dream’s ever fraying nerves.

So Dream does not press further when Lucienne insists on keeping watch over him, even as he feels as though she is treating him like a piece of fragile glass that could shatter any moment.

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

When Dream finally ventures out to the Sea of Nightmares to assess the damage Hell’s forces have done to its waters, the waves rush up to meet him, and Dream braces himself to be pulled within their depths. The Sea has been temperamental ever since the battle with Hell, and Dream knows it is likely questioning his competence. It is just another thing he will have to weather, another challenge to be conquered. He is prepared to remind the old nightmares that dwell beneath that he is still their master, that the battle with Hell has only made him stronger, not weaker.

But the waves of the Sea crash just past him, enveloping Lucienne instead and pulling her down into the cold dark depths.

Dream does not think twice before he follows, desperately diving in after her.

The Sea of Nightmares is vast and infinite, containing the collective fears of every being within its waters. Dream feels his own insecurities rise to meet him, threatening to swallow him whole. The Sea recounts each and every death that Dream allowed to happen, all of the pain his subjects had to suffer at the hands of Lucifer and their demons. It reminds Dream of his century long imprisonment, of how he let his realm fall to decay. It recalls how Dream has scorned and hurt those closest to him, from Nada to Hob Gadling. How he continues to hurt those closest to him. Especially Lucienne. 

Lucienne.

Dream’s eyes snap open, clarity piercing through the darkness of the Sea, as he remembers the reason he’d jumped into the water. His goal recalled, Dream starts to swim in the direction of Lucienne. Though he cannot yet see her, he can feel her, and he will not let his rogue creation take her from him.

He spots her not far south from his current location, and Dream dives downwards to reach her. As he swims closer to Lucienne’s location, Dream realizes the Sea has shifted. It is no longer showing him his deepest fears and insecurities.

No, he realizes with a sense of growing dread. It is showing him Lucienne’s.

Lucienne had always been steadfast in her devotion to him, and Dream had always believed they had an easy understanding of one another, a shared goal to keep the Dreaming alive and well, a sense of honor and duty. As Dream reaches out to grasp Lucienne’s hand, however, he realizes the depths of her devotion. Not only to the Dreaming, but to Dream himself.

The Sea shifts again, this time revealing to Dream Lucienne’s deepest fears. It shows him the countless lonely nights spent waiting at the Gates of the Dreaming, waiting, hoping, praying for Dream’s return. Another wave shifts the image to the sight of Dream, bruised and broken, as Lucifer’s minions invade. Yet another shows Dream, alone and surrounded by nothing but death and chaos, clearly prepared to sacrifice himself to some yet unseen force.

What Lucienne fears most, the Sea seems to whisper to him, is losing the one she loves most. Losing Dream.

Dream feels wretched. Undeserving. How had he not noticed that she carried these feelings for him all these years? He had always been perceptive, able to easily glean even the most carefully guarded secrets, and yet, this one has gone beneath his notice.

Or perhaps, he thinks to himself, he had simply refused to see it. 

Dream’s despair threatens to pull them both deeper into the Sea of Nightmares, to drown both he and Lucienne in the cold, cold, dark, but Dream will not let it. The Sea of Nightmares is still his subject after all, and it will heed the call of its master. Of Dream of the Endless. 

The Sea heeds his call and releases them. Dream takes Lucienne and then swims to the surface.

He breaks through to the surface just moments later, gasping for air and clutching Lucienne to his chest. She is unconscious, likely due to the shock of the Sea’s attack on her. With a single thought from Dream’s mind, they are both transported to his private chambers, and he lays her carefully on a wide bed with dark satin sheets, before replacing both of their wet clothes with dry ones. Then he fashions himself a chair to sit in and waits. 

Lucienne gasps as she wakes an undetermined amount of time later, coughing fitfully as if her body were trying to dislodge the water from the Sea of Nightmares from her lungs. But she is a creature of the Dreaming, and so there was never a true risk of her drowning.

“My lord?” Lucienne says once she’s caught her breath, turning to him. “What—what happened?”

“The Sea of Nightmares is still yet unstable,” Dream answers. “It stole you beneath the waters.”

“I—see,” Lucienne replies, her brow furrowing. “And you— you rescued me?” she asks, widening her eyes as shock then worry crosses her features.  “My lord, that was a dangerous maneuver. You could have been greatly hurt.”

“I could not lose you, Lucienne,” Dream says simply. It was true. Lucienne has always been an instrumental part of the Dreaming, of Dream’s function, but she had truly become invaluable to him when he had returned from his imprisonment at the hands of Roderick Burgess. Lucienne had shone a light on Dream’s weaknesses, had helped him see past his own pride as he struggled to adjust himself to a realm that had rotted away in his absence. She had shown Dream that change need not be a terrifying thing, that it could be beautiful, not just in his creations, but in Dream himself.   

“My lord,” Lucienne argues, “it is still not worth the risk—”

“You are worth every risk, Lucienne,” Dream interrupts her, cutting off the thought before she could finish it. “There is no one more valuable to me than you,” he adds, and realizes he means it. Lucienne had become wholly irreplaceable to him, and that could only mean one thing. 

“I have been negligent in saying so in the past,” Dream continues. “But I would like to thank you. For staying by my side for all this time. For believing in me, even when others had given up. For giving me—” he pauses, then takes one of Lucienne’s hands in his, raising it to his lips. She inhales sharply, caught off guard by the intimate gesture. “Something I still do not think I deserve.”

“My lord?” Lucienne asks, breathless.

“Lucienne,” Dream murmurs, his lips ghosting along the knuckles of her fingers. “I do not yet believe I am worthy of your love.” He looks up at her, hoping that she sees that he is serious about his declaration. “But I would like to be, if you’ll allow it.”

Lucienne’s eyes widen, then crinkle as she lets out a small huff of laughter. “I would respectfully disagree with that assessment sire,” she replies, turning her hand in his to squeeze it in return. “You do not see yourself as I do,” she adds, her voice soft and fond.

“Clearly, else I would have noticed your affections sooner,” Dream replies, feeling his own lips quirk upwards as he returns her smile.

“Perhaps that is only a testament to how well I know you, that I kept them hidden for so long,” Lucienne teases. Dream barks out a laugh, and it echoes loudly in his chambers, but he does not care. Lucienne has heard him laugh many times in the past few thousand years, so he is unashamed to let her hear him now. 

“Perhaps,” he allows. “But now you are no longer permitted to keep those feelings secret. I would have all of them, immediately.”

Lucienne rolls her eyes, but still stares at him, fondness clearly etched across her lovely face. 

“You have always been greedy with your lovers,” Lucienne answers. “But I suppose I do not mind that about you.”

Dream’s only response is to pull Lucienne into a deep, breathtaking kiss. 

[hms-no-fun]

have you seen/seen discourse around envy/desire or have you been fortunate enough to avoid that

whuh? like, the concepts? are people shipping Envy fullmetal alchemist with Desire sandman? because i'll be real with you that ship would go HARD

[windsweptinred]

When people ask me why Corinthiel?

(Me taking the ship lovingly from the pedestal I have placed it upon and presenting it with a dramatic flourish.) Just look at this poetic masterpiece!

Two beings, brought into the world at a time of transference from old to new. With one foot in past and present. Born under the shadow of a predecessor they struggle to escape from. Both searching for sense of self amongst the ghosts and ruins. The only other being each has who understands that journey. Who see each other for themsleves, rather then a fragment of the past or a recreation of what was. Both walking the same path together. The first two characters in this new chapter.

Daniel, the mortal born king of the Dreaming, the Waking Dream, a drop of humanity in a pool of Endless. A beautiful intertwining of the human and divine. Cori's desires made manifest. A 'dream' almost perfectly crafted for him.

The Corinthian, remade with the sole purpose to find and protect Daniel Hall. Ultimately fashioned by Morpheus to serve his successor, to be Daniel's, not his own. Cori who was young Daniel's protector, the child's sanctuary was in the nightmare's arms. And the beauty of that continuing on after his transformation....Of Daniel's sole haven from the pressures and expectations of his new role being in his arcanas embrace. Of finding understanding and solace in the one who knew him in both lives, the one who was there for his rebirth, the first one to look upon him as Dream. Of always being Daniel, purely Daniel to the Corinthian. Just mwah, chef's kiss.

Look at the beautiful hurt/comfort, fluff but mind the gore, the Corinthian is his own warning. Smut glorious smut tapestry they weave.

So yeah, that's why. 😊🤍💚

Ps.

They can be a continuation of Corintheus (True love never dies, just changes form. A beautiful study of second chances, metamorphosis and finding each other again through rebirth.)

Or along side retired Dreamling (Everyone's a winner. The literal definition of having your cake and eating it. Cue some meaningful character explorations into why Morpheus and Daniel want different things from a relationship. And finding a seperate sense of self in that beyond 'Dream'. )

Or just love them wholeheartedly for themselves.

[rriavian]

The @sandman-rarepair-fest is this weekend, and I'm so excited to take a look through the tag! There are still quite a few rarepair wips that I've not yet finished (got thrown off a little by real life this week!) but I thought I'd put together a list of the fics I have written for rarer pairings, just in case anyone was interested in having a read :)

Rare Pair Fics

Calliope/Dream of the Endless

A Song Once Known - Calliope is invited to visit the Dreaming following the events of season one.

Lucienne/Dream of the Endless

Astronomers - Dream takes Lucienne stargazing.

Scared Simplicity - Lucienne gives Dream a paper wedding ring.

Gault/Lucienne

First Flight - The last time Gault saw Lucienne she stole a kiss.

Daniel Hall/The Corinthian

Transmutation - In the days leading up the The Wake, Daniel tries to discover what—and who—he is. The Corinthian faces a similar struggle.

First -Daniel wants a kiss.

Platonic/Gen Fics

Dream of the Endless and Orpheus

Lead the Way - It's the end of the school day, and so Dream and Orpheus must now tackle the familiar task of crossing the roads they encounter on their journey home.

Delicate Negotiations - Orpheus doesn't want to go to sleep. Dream offers an irresistible incentive.

Calliope & Daniel Hall

Evergreen - Calliope meets Daniel for the very first time. It is not the first time she's met Dream.

[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.

[the-everqueen]

@sandman-rarepair-fest

at this point i think i've mostly written rarepairs for this fandom...but figured i'd rec two things that are among the rarest of pairs for my favorite problem child, the Corinthian:

LA Guard Dog: Rose/Corinthian. post The Wake, Dream rehomes the Corinthian with Rose Walker. she's human and a child of the Endless, what Nightmare *wouldn't* fall in love? also humanity's dark mirror is handy for doing chores.

Gay Coworkers: Matthew/Corinthian. the Dreaming is the Office but also kind of Severance, if you're the second Corinthian. Matthew POV. slow burn (as in, they're still getting there, but iykyk), incomplete but continually updating.

[darling-writings]

[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.

[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.

[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!