#korinthiakos

" Who are you?" Lark spoke as she held her blade clutched in her hands. Her camp had been set on the border of Ravka and Fjerda. An envoy mission had sent her away from her home at the Grand Palace and traveling light made the journey home all that faster, and yet she needed sleep. She needed to dream.

Thinking about the "the next time I make you, you will not be so flawed and petty, little dream" scene where Dream is holding the Corinthian's tiny skull and just like.

Man, the difference in power between Dream of the Endless and his creations is so STARK in that moment. The Corinthian is small compared to Dream: a powerful nightmare, yes, but against one of the Endless? Against the one that made him? He's small. He's fragile and easy to take apart. The Corinthian literally plotted and betrayed and tried to kill Dream and Morpheus still stands there with its skull in his hand, looking at it with the kind of fondness you might for a small animal that tried to bite you, and calls it "little dream". Calls everything it's done flawed and petty, and takes responsibility for it himself - the same way you might if your pet bit you because you didn't teach it not to.

I talk a lot about how Dream is largely considered an asshole by his subjects and that's a huge part of why so many of them fled the Dreaming after his disappearance AND why they came back afterwards (Gault says: Do you think they came back out of love? Or fear of what you might do to them if they did not? and he BANISHES HER TO THE DARKNESS FOR IT LMFAO) and like. Man. The horror of that. The horror of all that power. It's SO GOOD.

gentle's not exactly it, more like tender, but he can't feel the first and the corinthian doesn't do the second. not with him, anyway. suits gravedigger just fine.

he's not always sure what the corinthian is to him. not friend, not enemy. important because they're important to johnny, protected and tolerated because it's what johnny would want. they fight more than they talk.

little by little, graves is starting to like him.

"wouldn't come to you for gentle," he rasps. voice like broken strings, catching in all the wrong places, glass in gravel. the corinthian hustles him up against the wall with biting kisses, bruising hands. graves can feel some of it, clearer when he's in the Dreaming, drinks in each touch like he's parched for it.

he rumbles with approval. closes a hand around the corinthian's throat just to watch their eyemouths widen.

"red for stop, yellow for pause. green for keep going. yes?"

BEHOLD: THE DREAMLORD, MASTER OF WORM DREAMS AND WORM NIGHTMARES.

He grits his teeth.  Confessions weren’t his thing.  Not these kinds of confessions;  not the ones wrapped around love and care.  “Is it so wrong to care about you?  It’s not even fake at this point,  Morpheus,  is it?  Public appearances.  Secret cuddling and having sex in The Dreaming...”  He murmurs,  pacing around in Dream’s bedroom;  pants on,  shirt off,  his head racing.  "I was beginning to care more and more while things blossomed,  and I——  I ain’t the fuckin’ type to confess like this.  This was meant to be fake and you made it so real.” 

A confession is the last thing Morpheus had been expecting. They had managed a bit of a pattern with each other; small outings, dates purely to satisfy the illusion that their relationship was real and everything else had just been an extension of that. The sex, the soft touches, the time they were spending together. All of it was fake.

Yet Corinthian was here, stating otherwise, bringing feelings into the matter. Feelings that surely he didn't believe. This was just another ploy at trying to break him, a sort of sick satisfaction the Nightmare got in trying to break an Endless, trying to break Dream. But if none of it was real, why was there an ache in Morpheus' chest at the idea of Corinthian using this against him?

Sleipnir smoothed a hand down his front sighing at his reflection. "I look like whatever the opposite of you is." Sleipnir huffed. He hated this, hated the pampered look he had in the mirror, hated being fawned over, made to look his best - it was't his usual look.

Suits and nice shoes were always more Corinthians taste. Though, it was more white and cream then Sleipnirs taste.

[ SENSUAL ]  ―  for sender to tie receiver up with silk ties. dream, perhaps his nightmare king verse 👀

He provoked Corinthian, now he's getting what he deserves, but a mix of feelings grow in his chest, a will to get rid of all those bindings and punish Corinthian for having the audacity of even touching him, but also a will to let the nightmare finish his work and see if he has what it takes to make him scream.

As Corinthian used Morpheus' own silk robes to tie him, his arousal grew, and a cruel smile took place on his cold face.