#betterdcyz

How long Corinthian has been standing there, he has no idea.  Time is meaningless.  The humans change.  Age.  Burgess shouts and raves and falls deeper into dark magic in his desperation.  Maybe that’s why the nightmare is here.  To watch perhaps.  He knows the father has found many bits of spellcraft over the years that have been added to the circle.  More gold on stone that brought him into a strange state that might have convinced him he were falling asleep had he not been who he was.  Sleep and dreams do not feel sick like this.  A dizzying plummet that only faded into floating.  Lightheaded, his mass vocabulary provides.  It made him close his eyes long enough to not notice the flood of fresh air gone too quickly.  Then he returned to that odd not-quite-conscious state to find new metal spidering around him.  Some were just close enough to touch that burned when he accidentally brushed them.  Others had found their way around him as the only coverage he’d had in years.  Those bind him to what counts as the floor with little room to move.  It’s more humiliating than functional.  Until he’d noticed carvings in the bonds that would illuminate the entire room when the magus entered and make Dream wonder if this was what dying felt like.  At least then he’d get to see a more wanted familiar face.   His failed nightmare was not a welcome sight, even begging as he was.  Dream has kept his tongue for this long.  He would not break that record for a being that must know there was a much easier solution than money.  The scuff of a shoe.  A stumble with inhuman strength.  He twists to turn away, physical limitations be damned.  His corporeal form could live with some dislocated joints or torn ligaments if it meant the Corinthian would leave him alone.  In the quiet daze, he can almost dream.

Pale, blood stained fingers smooth across the Nightmare’s chin before Morpheus is closing the distance between them, pressing his lips desperately against Corinthian’s as though it’s going to make up for anything. And perhaps, it’s an excuse to lessen some of the pain for him as well, or at least, Morpheus could play it off as such if needed. 

Up until the blond had seated himself in Hob’s lap, his attention had been on the assignments he was marking but as a hand tangled in his hair to pull on it, the nightmare gained his full attention. Pen set down on the table, hands fell to rest on his waist as a sly smirk settled on lips and a sparkle of mischief swirls in warm eyes. ❝ You know, I do have to get all this marked by tomorrow. ❞ But what’s a few hours? He’ll do them in the early hours of the morning if he has to.

2b. It doesn't actually matter what kind of touch the Corinthian receives--though he prefers rough to soft. Not because he's afraid of gentleness or whatever, but because it just doesn't do much for him outside of a very basic 'this physically feels pleasant I guess' sort of thing, whereas rougher contact for him tends to have more weight and meaning behind it.

* .  ♡                                                      brows are raised as she watches him. cheek rests against a closed fist, elbow resting on the console, while her body stretched lazily out behind her. “ i told you not to eat more than ONE. ” it wasn’t her fault that @betterdcyz​ (the doctor) decided to eat at least four brownies with a little something extra in them. he had said that time lord physiology was different to humans, that certain human drugs aren’t effective and of course ellie believed him. “ they weren’t even for US. ” she continued as she stood up straighter, trying not to laugh. “ are you okay ? ”

♫ starter call / @betterdcyz​ ( ft. the corinthian ) / turpentine by brandy carlile

                ˜”*°•.     In  a  way ,  it was  sad .   What’d  once been  a  seemingly perfect  creation ,  now revealing  its  darkest of  flaws .  What’d once  been  an  alleged  masterpiece , now  showing  its ugliest  of  colours . However ,  he  couldn’t blame  him ,  not entirely ,  not  exclusively . Even  when  the blade  was  caressing his  throat ,  he couldn’t  bring  himself to  be  enraged , to  be  frustrated . No …  It  was  disappointment creeping into  his  face instead ;  disappointment  dressed with  plenty  of  exhaustion ,  of tiredness .  ❝ And then  what ?  ❞  Came the  question  quiet ;  not  a flinch  made ,  not a  move .  ❝ What do  you  think will  happen  next ?  ❞  

starter call        ♡        @betterdcyz​.