#lucienne is done

[just-some-random-blogger]

We know how much Morpheus admires your s/o, so you can't help but say "If you keep looking at me like that, we're not going to get a bed fast, my love."

P(r)etty

Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, Dream just gives you that look and you would drop to your knees for him, and by sometimes, I mean most times.

Word Count: >800

Warnings: Suggestive content, gender neutral!reader, making out in the library, lucienne not having it, typos, etc.

A/N: i got two morpheus requests in one day i feel so famous 😈 i must be better than everyone else gif from pinterest

"Hello, my love," I hear a voice speak before I feel a hand on my shoulder.

I lean against the touch then feel a kiss on the top of my head. I perk and look up at my affection giver, my Dream, returning the soft smile on his face with a toothy grin, "hello, my love."

He makes a chair appear beside me then sits down, "what is it today?" he asks, as if he doesn't already know the answer.

I turn to the book in my hand that was propped on the table, then back to the Dreaming's king, practically buzzing in excitement as I answer, "an untitled and unpublished manuscript of Jane Austen's work."

Dream chuckles as I bare my teeth and shake my head rapidly, "it's soooo good!" I squeal, "but I'm so scared to read the end because I know it's not finished."

The sound of my chair squeaking closer to Dream echoes in the expanse of the library, "did you know there are typos in this?!"

"I do," he purses his lips and hums, "has it made for difficult reading?"

"Absolutely not!" I exclaim, "if anything I feel more honored to be one of the very few who has access to this."

"Well, I am glad you are enjoying it, dearest," he says, eyes barely crinkling in delight.

Absolutely hypnotized by the blue of his iris and the black of his liner, I pout at him and rest my head on my hand. I pull away from my book and caress his cheeks. I retrace the curves of his face as I swoon, "you're so pretty-"

His nostrils flare in amusement.

"-but not enough to get away with the fact you didn't inspire Austen to finish this story."

Dream lifts his brows and finds challenge in those words, especially when I withdraw my touch, "oh? Is that so?"

I sigh and nod, pushing the book away, opting to divert my full attention onto him, as well as to slide onto his lap.

The king makes for a comfortable throne, especially with how one hand snaked around my back and another pulled me close by my thighs. I nod curtly at him and fake disappointment as I fiddle with his collar, "you're going to have to make it up to me somehow."

It seems the whole of his domain laughs, as he does, at my words. The vibrations make me squeeze my thighs tightly.

"Tis I that should do such a thing?" he questions, voice loud and laced with disbelief. He leans down, brushing his the tip of nose against my cheek, "your king?"

I hum, turning to him to brush my nose with his as I nod, "mmhmm."

Dream brushes his hand on my thigh all the way up to my cheek. He tilts my face up to him. His lips ghost over mine, hot breath leaving me with goosebumps, "if you can plead your case to me well enough, perhaps I would be inclined to grant you satisfaction in your twisted justice seeking."

I bite my lower lip and press my hands on his shoulders. He watches as I shift and straddle him, "you might not handle taking me to a court room, your honor," I capture his cheeks in my hand, "so I humbly suggest we take this to the bedroom instead?"

I nibble on his lip and grind down on him. When I pull away and grin at him, he digs his fingers into my thigh. His eyes were blown and his lips remained parted.

I giggle, "well, if you keep looking at me like that, we're not going to get a bed fast, my love."

Before I could even kiss him, I hear someone clear their throat from behind. It effectively makes my heart drop.

"Lucienne," I blurt, ready to jump off Dream at the sight of the librarian's repulsed and dirty look. I quickly shove myself off her boss.

Dream is not having it though, and roughly tuts me. I turn to him as he forces me still, and feel my mouth goes twice as dry at his dark expression.

The very next moment, we were no longer sitting in the library and snuggly positioned atop a bed.

"I do not appreciate your actions, lover" he mutters with venom, eyes dark.

"But Lucienne-"

"Enough," he bites, pushing his face closer to mine, "I will not hear anyone else's name. You are pleading to me, are you not?"

I would have been scared had I not seen through his sharp teeth and missed his sulky expression. I deflate against him and kiss his cheek sweetly, "yes, daddy."

All the while Lucienne walks over to where the unspeakable incident was supposed to happen and grabs the forgotten book on the table. She scoffs, "in front of Austen? And an unpublished one at that. I-"

[asalesbian]

The thing that keeps coming back to you, the fakeness of the thing. Lucienne in this fake marriage. Lucienne walking down the aisle. Lucienne kissing this scion of this ancient galactic house.

for dimensiontwentober day 20 - A Starstruck Odyssey

[plattypie-humano]

I’ve just rewatched the Sandman and why do I feel like Mazikeen and Lucienne are actually friends even though their monarchs hate each other’s guts.

I bet after the scene where Gault was sent to the darkness Lucienne just summoned Mazikeen to the Dreaming so they can b!tch abt one another’s bosses.

[throwingbread]

On retired Dream AUs

imagine if Dream’s retirement was like Miyazaki’s retirement - after doing a whole big thing choosing his successor, a dramatic death, a freakin funereal, and he’s back five years later because a new idea for some dreams but after he finishes them he’s retire for good this time he promises.

[the-everqueen]

it's your lucky day: update to gay coworkers posted.

[cosmictapestry]

B39 and 42?

B39. step on him!!!!!!!!

and

B42. "who do you belong to?"

oughhhhhh you guys are so smart

morphienne prompt fills here

Even with her realm and library restored, Lucienne is often hounded by a nagging frustration and—lingering, shivering in the margins—enraged impotence.

It is senseless. Her influence has never been stronger and the Dreaming has never answered to her so easily. She is the only one who remembers a time when she couldn't even stop her library from disappearing.

Everyone else was gone by the time her grip finally slipped and her library was lost. It was humiliating in a way she's since had a difficult time reconciling. More than a loss of her life's work or even her dearest friend. It was the type of loss of self Lucienne could not have imagined experiencing until it happened, unthinkably, to her.

It itches at her unexpectedly on otherwise uneventful days. And he will come to her when it does, and he will prove to her that she is more powerful than ever before.

Today she stumbles upon him in a quiet nook of the library, warm dusty light and the smell of ancient parchment all around. Her lord sits in a brown leather armchair, a book open atop his knee, small table beside him stacked high with more books. He looks up at Lucienne as she approaches, fingers gently closing the book and setting it down alongside the others. "Lucienne."

"My lord." He watches her, calm and patient and knowing, and his steadiness stills her, nearly as much as it does when he sinks in his seat so he gazes up at her with wide soft eyes and slowly spreads his legs, sets his boots wide on the carpeted floor. Lucienne's body warms and her fingers tap on her crossed arms. "Well, now. What's this about?"

Lord Morpheus tilts his head, the tip of his tongue darting to his lips. He slouches even further, angles his hips, jacket open, t-shirt and jeans skin-tight, hands still and steady resting on the arms of the chair. "Whatever you want it to be about."

She breathes a sharp laugh. "Is that so?"

He smiles back at her, tiny, and the softness of his expression doesn't change. "You're too tense."

"And bossing you around will ease my tension, yes?"

He quirks an eyebrow. "It usually does."

Yes, well. Fair enough. Lucienne bites her lip on a wide grin, and the upset which haunts her eases under a rush of exaltation, nerve-slick arousal, power and belonging and sweet darkness. She looks down at her lord, spread open for her, and she doesn't know what he's expecting, but she knows he'd trust her with anything.

She holds his gaze while she raises her leg and rests her boot on the seat between his spread legs. His eyes widen and he swallows hard, his chin tipping up to bare his throat. His chest heaves while her foot slides forward to nudge at the seam of his now-open jeans. She doesn't move further.

Lord Morpheus watches her, takes in her hesitance, then reaches out. His hand closes on her ankle and pulls her foot forward. He keeps his hand there while she sets the sole of her boot to the bulge of his underwear, the leaking tip of his erection pressed up to the dark fabric above the fly of his jeans. She's happy to see she's not stepping on his bare cock, at least.

She grinds her boot into him, watches him arch and press up against her, his fingers tightening around her ankle. "Lucienne," he breathes.

"My lord." The God of Dreams writhes under her, a little gasp escaping him. Lucienne presses her heel in under the give of his bollocks, forces another sound from him. Lucienne feels drunk. "Who do you belong to?"

Her lord's body shivers and his hips roll, grinding the length of his cock up the sole of her boot. "You," he whispers. His fingers are bruising points of pressure on her ankle, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, tears in his eyes. "Lucienne—you—"

"Alright, baby," she watches him use her foot without complaint, without reservation, because he trusts her, because he belongs to her, because the King of Dreams knows her and loves her and will do whatever she asks. "Get yourself off, sweet thing."

He sobs, sharp and short and quiet, rocks in feverish jerks, never taking his eyes from her own. She puts a little more of her weight on him, feels his bollocks begin to draw tight under her heel. Lucienne watches him bow, his spine drawing into a rigid curve, and she watches him come, spurting up across his shirt, dribbling over her boot.

She continues to grind her foot into his cock while he whines until at last his hand goes lax on her ankle and he slumps completely, goes soft under her. "Lucienne," he mumbles.

For a moment she entertains ideas of having him lick her boot clean, and he grimaces in response, so she laughs and she takes her foot from his crotch, feeling vaguely guilty when he winces. But he smiles up at her, soft and satisfied and searching, and when she leans down to kiss his forehead he hums contentedly. "Well done, love."

[raspberryjellybrains]

In Pursuit of Peace and Quiet

By hotdoggityfrog for @sandmanfemslashfans ‘s femslash weekend

Death's got a roll of camembert that would be great if anyone would actually let her see her girlfriend.

Death of the Endless/Lucienne the Librarian

Death of the endless, Lucienne the Librarian, Dream of the Endless, Fiddler's Green, Matthew the Raven

Fluff, a little bit of angst, picnic date, lucienne deserved a raise

[tryan-a-bex]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗 (i don't know if you do these sorts of chain-letter things, or if you'd prefer not to, but for my part i do like to know which of their works a given author is especially hype on, so consider this an opportunity to gush!)

Thank you! How can I choose between my children?

Okay you know what? I have. I’ve commissioned art for some of my fics so I’ll share those!

Sometimes when you fall, you fly—Lucienne finds Gault crying in the library. With fantastic art by @athymelyreply! (tumblr)

Fireflies and a Missing Person—my first Lucienne mystery. Merv is missing, can Lucienne find him? With wonderful art by @ibrithir-was-here! (tumblr)

The Dragon’s Tongue—Lucienne has words with Titania for hassling Nuala. Now with a platonic BDSM continuation @lostelfwriting wrote for me that is absolute perfection! (tumblr)

Five Guesses Why Hob is Immortal and One Broken Plate—the Scooby Gang have car trouble outside the New Inn. With excellent art by @sab-draws! (tumblr)

You know what? My last one is going to be a two-fer. Just get me off the damn mountain won @designtheendless‘ contest (tumblr), so for my prize I asked for art for The Dragon Rider, in which Jed and Lucienne enjoy Gault in dragon form in very different ways. (tumblr) The art is going to be awesome!

[badmovieihave]

Bad movie I have Spaghetti Westerns Part Two of Two it has Gunfight at Red Sands 1964, It Can Be Done Amigo 1973, Johnny Yuma 1966, Man from Nowhere 1966, Minnesota Clay 1965, Sundance and the Kid 1969, This Man Can't Die 1967, Trinity and Sartana 1972, Twice a Judas 1969, and White Comanche 1968

[outeremissary]

For the pose ask game...I'd love to see C2 in your style! Couple of your choice? I just think it'd look great in your style 👀👀👀

In T minus 5... 4...

3...

2...

1.

Dumbass.

I did this ask with different characters first Thursday night and then thought hmmm let's do not that actually. Wing humor instead :)

[kelvingemstone]

a starstruck odyssey is for lovers

[teejaystumbles]

all who commented on the latest chapters of Storms of Life saw this coming:

“This can’t go on, Lucienne! They are both being idiots!”

“I know, Jessamy, but what am I supposed to do? I can’t make Lord Morpheus speak to his friend if he doesn’t want to. You remember the first time I tried to tell him something was wrong? It took months for him to finally look at the damn book!”

“Yes, I remember it vividly! And now he’s doing the same thing again, brooding in his room! He’s hiding something, I think! He hasn’t let me sleep in his cloak since he came back from Hob Gadling’s dream! He keeps himself surprisingly well-dressed suddenly! Hasn’t lounged around in a toga on his stairs in forever! It’s high-collar and full sleeves all the time! Something is definitely wrong!”

[rauchendesgnu]

This inspired me to draw a little 8 page comic. It took me about 44.5 hours and some of my sanity, but I am happy with the result :)

Dream really could be in his most messed up, eldritch and incomprehensibly horrifying shape and Hob would just sigh, say "That kind of day, huh?" and sit down next to him, pull out his phone and show the cosmic entity cat videos until it remembers it can be small like a cat, too. When the cat gets the thought it would like to kiss the human, it remembers it can be anthropomorphic. The Dreaming is in awe. Lucienne is nearly crying because Hob manages to get her lord back into a shape capable of communicating so quickly.

[zorawitch]

i'm having a "can't-draw-chins" day which is actually fucking tragic because im watching a hope in hell and i want to sketch lucifer soooo bad and it isn't fucking happening today!

[cosmictapestry]

oughhhhhhh i am unwell

[undiscovered-horizon]

Rainy Season - Morpheus x Reader

[Spoilers for Brief Lives I guess?]

[MASTERLIST] | [Sandman-inspired playlist]

SUMMARY: Fed up with Dream's stubborn and at times childish attitude, you leave Dreaming. But when Morpheus's sorrow makes itself known, Matthew has to fetch you before the kingdom completely floods.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.7k

It’s a tumultuous morning in the Dreaming. Even if none of the dreams and nightmares are privy to the ongoing feud, they know something is wrong. It’s as though the air in the kingdom, the marrow of their bones, turned bitter last night. Their skin is crawling but the sun is shining as it did yesterday. They birds chirp the same song they had throughout centuries. And yet, against their better judgment, something is terribly out of place.

To be honest, you don’t even remember how all of this started but the damage is already done.

A frustrated scream ripples through your chest, "The world doesn't revolve around you!" You're fuming. There's only so much patience one person can hold and recently, Morpheus had proven himself exceptional at trying to reach its limit until he, unfortunately, succeeded today. "For someone who's supposed to know every thought ever entertained, you sure can not look past the tip of your own nose."

His eyes, cold and hurt, stare at you in utter confusion. Dark eyebrows furrow. "I do not know what you're expecting of me,” he states in an angry voice. It appears that he really does not understand the reason for your outrage. "I am not human, I am unable to look at the world as you do."

Of course he says that, you think to yourself. It seems to be his favorite line of defense. Dream of the Endless is a strange, eldritch creature. He doesn’t comprehend the world like a mortal does and, or some reason, he treats this fact of nature as an excuse not to try. At first, you thought it charming - to see the universe through the eyes of a creature you can barely begin to understand. Who wouldn’t? The strange wonder of the man in front of you made you seek his company again and again. Truthfully, there’s something poetic about it: the reason you’ve come back to him so many times might be the very reason you bid him farewell. For good.

"Good news, then: you don't need a cardiovascular system to exercise empathy.” Your sarcastic tone has an effect on Morpheus. He frowns, hurt by your words, only to grow angry that he’s so affected. Dream’s pride makes him want to not be influenced by your bitterness. Alas, he cares more than he’s willing to admit. "Not everything is about you, Morpheus, and until you realize that, I don't think we've got more to talk about. Goodbye."

Even after you shut the door behind you, the word echoes through the castle. The stone walls seem to whisper it back to Morpheus, rubbing the salt in his wound. How strange it is - to be haunted by somebody still alive. To be the king of dreams and feel hopeless. It would be funny if it didn’t make him want to be unmade.

A thunder rolls. A blue lightning splits the sky in two. Despite the lovely weather in the morning, it starts to rain in the Dreaming.

The storm doesn’t stop after a few hours nor does it cease after a few days. Black clouds cover the sky as they did four days ago. The only change is in the water level: the kingdom is flooded. When everyone thought the rain is bound to stop soon, no one minded much the rising tide. However, when the situation only worsened with no evidence that it’s going to improve in the near future, worried voices started to reach Lucienne. If the storm doesn’t cease in the next day or two, some parts of the Dreaming will share the fate of Atlantis.

If Morpheus knew he was being observed, he didn’t show it. Perhaps he doesn’t feel up for another confrontation. In any event, he remains still, standing against the balcony reiling, as his friends begin plotting:

"How is he?" Matthew whispers to Lucienne. "Has he moved from there at all? Ate something? Said anything?"

"That's three 'no's, I'm afraid,” she answers slowly. The librarian lets out a heavy sigh. "He's just dramatically standing there, wallowing in pity."

Dream really is 'just standing there’. Drenched. His hair and clothes are stuck to his pasty skin. It can’t be comfortable but it would appear that matters other than cosiness are on his mind at the moment. For the past few days, ever since you left, he hasn’t moved even a quarter of an inch. Truthfully, he looks about as alive as a marble statue, if monuments could appear excruciatingly miserable.

"Should we do something?" The raven continues. What he really wants to ask is 'What should we do?’ but Lucienne seems to catch the undertone of his words nonetheless.

"You could ask her to come back but no guarantee she'll want to,” she thinks out loud. "They've fought before but this time she looked really defeated."

Morpheus, although doesn’t need to breathe, sighs loudly. As he exhales, another lightning tears the sky apart.

"Alright, I'll try to convince her to talk to him again,” Matthew states. His worried voice makes him sound determined to have the two of you reconcile. "Hopefully, we'll be back before you need a canoe."

Lucienne doesn’t respond. As much as she doesn’t want to admit to her pessimism, she knows better than to have much hope in the matter of Dream’s love life.

Repetitive tapping on the window diverts your attention from the dishes you were washing. Seeing the black bird sitting on the outside windowsill, you quickly wipe your hands against the dishrag and jog to open the window.

"Matthew?" you ask in surprise.

He wastes no time pleading his case in a plaintive tone. "You gotta go back to him. Everything's gone to shit."

You furrow your eyebrows. Leaning against the wall, you cross your arms on your chest. "What do you mean?"

The raven hops closer to you. "It's been pouring nonstop since you left. He's just standing there, soaking wet and he won't talk to anyone."

It might sound sadistic but it’s a nice thought that he’s grieving your departure so severely. For what it’s worth, it means he’s not as blase as he likes to appear. Perhaps, Morpheus cares about you more than you’re even aware of.

"How bad is it?" you ask warily.

"How bad?!" Matthew screeches. "The House of Mysteries is so flooded, Abel is fishing."

It sounds like 'bad' is nothing more than an elegant euphemism. In his heartache, Morpheus is willing to let Dreaming decay and fall into partial ruin. If your accusation had been correct and Dream of the Endless truly is unable to care about anyone but himself, such a disaster would never have happened. A selfish ruler wouldn’t let his realm turn to rubble because of a broken heart. And if you’re more important than what he calls home, then…

"I'm assuming that's not a usual feature,” you give the raven a half-hearted response. The thoughts inside your head are in a painful turmoil, trying to lift the truth out of the indications.

"Yeah," he answers sarcastically.

Matthew glares at you in anticipation. Perplexed, you rub your arm without thinking much about it. Right, it's the mature and responsible thing to do but at the same time, why do you have to be the one to cave in every time you two fall out? If Morpheus cares for you as much as his dramatic show of pain and grief would suggest, shouldn’t it be him travelling across world and realms to reach you?

The raven cocks his head. Something about the look in his eyes changes as though his frustration has faded away or grown into desperation if not powerlessness. He’s tired and out of options.

"Alright, let's go," you say with a sigh. "But no promises. I still have pride and self-respect and he's still a stubborn..." you take a deep breath, "nevermind. Let's just go."

Miserable.

That's the only word that comes to your mind as you stare at him from afar. One would think that an entity of his sort can not be or look miserable but maybe this world is even stranger than you've thought. His clothes are drenched to the point of being see-through. Dark, once-tussled hair is now stuck to his face and neck. Dream's body looks even more stringy as his head is hanging low between his shoulders.

The rain is almost deafening. Your cautious, hesitant footsteps shouldn't be audible and yet Morpheus turns around to look at you when you come closer.

"I didn't think you'd come back," he says in a low, groggy voice. Dream's eyes, once blue and cold, are now red and unsettlingly vacant. Has he been crying? "What do you want?"

You take a deep breath. It was vain to expect him to welcome you with open arms. An eldritch being with a bruised ego and a broken heart could never make for a hospitable host. Even to those whom he misses the most.

"I still stand by what I said, it's just..." you hang your voice for a moment to find the proper words. Seeing him so broken by your fight makes some part of you want to renounce everything that lead to your argument. Anything just for him to be alright again. But the more reasonable side of you knows that such an action would only hurt both of you in the long run. "I admit, I could have said it in a more civilized way. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that harshness."

His gaze falls and Morpheus looks away for a moment.

Whether he's doing it consciously or not, the rainstorm ceases. Black clouds slowly drift away to uncover a clear, blue sky. Somewhere in the West, if there are cardinal directions in Dreaming, the sun is beginning to set. Despite the significant improvement, the air remains cold. A harsh wind nips at your drenched form. In a vain attempt to shield yourself from the discomfort of the weather, you put your arms around your torso. Still, your body trembles.

"Perhaps I should have put more effort into understanding your concern. I'm..." he turns silent for a second. His lips are apart but no sound is coming out of his mouth. Dream's hurt gaze meets yours. "Sorry," he whispers finally. Despite his voice being hardly audible, the weight of his confession is almost deafening.

"There's one more thing, Morpheus."

Those sad blue eyes stare at you in anticipation. The misery on his face makes you think that he's expecting to have his heart broken again, instead of mended.

A couple of grey clouds reappear above your heads. Oh no.

"I'm tired of always being the one to reach out," you confess. His gaze is too intense and you quickly look away from him. There's much on his mind. "No matter who's right or wrong, it's me who bridges the gap between us. Even if that angers me, I still do it. Every time. And I don't know what that says about me."

Your body trembles again but this time it doesn't go unnoticed by Morpheus. He, quite literally, pulls a coat out of thin air. Dream's movements are almost fearful as he cautiously places the garment around your shoulders.

"Perhaps in certain aspects, you are better than me," he answers quietly while fixing the coat to fit you better.

You know you're pushing your luck when you look at him again and ask a not-so-innocent question:

"You mean a 'better person'?"

"I'm not-" He bites his tongue just in time. Morpheus is not a person. Both of you are perfectly aware of it. But it was the mention of this very fact that had brought such disastrous rain to Dreaming. "Yes. A better person."

There's not much conviction in his words but there is, however, a silent promise to find it.

______

Now that I’m in mourning, I thought it fitting to finish reading "Brief Lives" and the bittersweetness of it felt all the more pronounced. Reading it prompted me to rewatch the show and long story short I’m kind of back in my Sandman feels.