My favourite relationship dynamic is somebody keeping Corinthian around like a pet. He's 100% lounging around their house like a disinterested housecat and thinking about gouging their eyes out. But he's preeeetty and will occasionally treat them nice, so it's worth it 🧍‍♂️

so here’s something i never figured out when i first read the sandman comics as a teenage girl, but which consuming the netflix show as a grown man is making extremely clear:

why the Corinthian is like that.

and it’s brilliant! it’s really cool. so in a series absolutely crammed full of very realistic queer representation– lesbians and bisexuals and trans people of all kinds!– you have morpheus stating outright that nightmares are meant to teach and challenge dreamers, by bringing subconscious fears to light, where they can be faced and overcome.

and the Corinthian has mouths for eyes. he devours eyes. he eats what people use to look at him like that, and what he used to look at people consumes them.

and he’s gay, he is a creature made by and for gay men, by personal preference all his victims are gay men, and being gay can be fucking terrifying. his eyes are mouths that eat those eyes that don’t look away from him in time, because he is the absolute mortal terror of knowing that the gender you’re attracted to–your own gender!–is extremely likely to kill you for looking at them. decades, centuries, of men looking at men and knowing this could kill them. eyes meeting eyes and wondering if this ends with the man you can’t stop looking at coming and kissing you or coming and killing you. in the eighties there was AIDS and there were more queers than ever coming out and saying ‘no, we’re here, look at us, we’re dying, look at us, we’re alive anyway, look at us.’

you’re gay in a world where that’s not okay. do you close your eyes? do you pull them out? you like to look at men. you can’t stop looking at men. you love them and they scare the hell out of you. some of them might love you. some of them will kill you. you keep looking. who’s looking back at you? can you survive it?

the Corinthian is that nightmare. and he’s perfect.

I have never needed two characters to meet more in my entire life

The Nightmare frowns as he listens to Rashad's story. His maws grinding tiny teeth as he refreigns from outright shaking the mortal for his idiocy.

Approaching him to put the handful of Rashad's clothes he holds into the mortals bag, he then takes a hold of Rashad's wrist. Forcing the mortal to stand where he is and look at him.

"Don't do that again." He warns, peeved. His lips pressed thin as he looms over his counterpart.

"You humans are so fragile. What happens if one of them kicked you in the head? Or broke a rib that punctured your lung? And you're too fucking drunk to heal youself." The Nightmare grimaces slightly over the idea of having walked into that bar to find Rashad dead.

Nobody would have left the tavern alive.

His grip tightens on Rashad's wrist a little in unspoken warning before he lets go.

"Hurry up."

Send 💥 for your muse to witness mine being surrounded and beaten up.

((Rashad))

Oh, this certainly wasn't where he thought he would end up after Corinthian took off to have a solo venture around the small town. Given, some of the people here might be from every nook and cranny in this land as this touristic town didn't really filter through anyone that came here, but he didn't imagine he would encounter such volatile - and admittedly dangerous - people all the way out here.

He supposed he wasn't entirely innocent. Taking to try a set of new drinks down at the local tavern sounded like a good idea at first, until he realized the alcohol percentage was probably higher than he thought and it was clouding his judgement. The next thought he had was how funny it would be to use Prestidigitation and cause a crackling noise to scare one of the patrons sitting about at the further tables, inevitably causing the man to choke on the current stew he was eating and fall off his chair. Next thing he knows, he was trapped in a sphere of Silence to prevent him from casting, and beaten fiercely by a bunch of mercenaries.

While he was a rather decent fighter with his trusted scimitar, he couldn't summon it now even if he desperately wanted to. One of them held his arms behind his back as the other kept digging his heel further into his side with every kick, causing Rashad another fit of coughing fresh blood.

In hindsight, this was a bad idea. He wasn't the best drinker, and he knew he was an even more terrible drunk. Why wasn't his patron helping him? Well, this was... A question for later, he supposed. He was sure wherever the Sultan was, he was probably enjoying the show.

🎈Do you remember the start of your life? How long ago was it?

"Yes, I do. I forget nothing." The Nightmare responds with a light frown. He isn't limited to flesh and bone. His mind is cast through intricate grains of Dreamsand. Every moment of his existence is woven deep into each grain, making forgetting anything impossible.

He remembers vividly being cast from sand. His mind planted and woven into its rightful place. Each twitch of his body as the Dream King changed his mind and cast and recast pieces of his form until the Artist was satisfied.

"A few millenia. I haven't been counting. Since humans gained a conscience and chose to ignore it." He cants his head aside as he examines Castiel. Curious as to why the Angel is asking such a question.

"If you're gonna ask about my childhood, I didn't have one. I was created just as drop dead gorgeous as I am today."

@qapsiel

Dreams scream and the resounding shatter of glass makes the Corinthian flinch in Dream's grip. His hands frozen on the metal wrapped around his neck. Wide eyes focused solely on the looming shadow of raw, quivering anger that manifests around the Endless.

It is terrifying. Jarring enough to have the Nightmare freeze entirely. Cowering beneath the might of the collective human subconscious.

The Corinthian has only ever witnessed the Dreaming shatter to Dream's emotions a handful of times in his millenia of existence. And to witness it now, he knows that Onerios is truly, unequivocally suffering.

Blood rolls down his cheeks. It is the only sign that the Nightmare has not been frozen into stone. Paralysed beneath his Gods hand. Only as he lets go, does the Nightmare dare to breathe.

The words that tumble from Dreams mouth are contrary. They make no sense. The Nightmare keens after his King, even as Dream steps away to return to his throne. Hands instinctively let go of the collar and instead reach for the Endless. His fingertips barely brush against his midnight robes, and then he's out of reach.

"My Lord..." The Nightmare utters, his tone reverent. But his maws choke on frustration and blood. Just like that, Dream dismisses him.

After lacing such sweet revelations about the Corinthian's wellbeing through a deadly warning, the Endless is content to just cast him out into the Dreaming like this.

Collared, and ashamed.

"Did you love him?" The question comes out before he can truly register what hes asking. Before he can register what it will mean for him.

The Nightmare chokes back a pained laugh. His core tight with hatred for the First Corinthian. The one who had been showered with all of Dream's adoration.

"Do you love me?"

One Mistake | @eroskissedskin

He'd fucked up.

He'd fucked up, and Dream was going to find out.

He always does.

The Corinthian paces the Dreamers bedroom with an anxious feverishness. Golden fingers trailing through his blond locks with traces of fresh blood.

The room is empty. The Dreamer is awake now. Probably desperately dialling 911 to report an attack by a man from his dreams.

It had just been a split-second decision. One the Nightmare would never have made, under the right circumstances.

No, if Dream hadn't been neglecting him as much as He had recently, the Nightmare would have never sought out this mortal lookalike.

If Dream hadn't been so fucking cold and angry with him all the time. If He hadn't been keeping him on a short leash for the mistakes his predecessor made, he wouldn't be here.

It was just instinct when the Dreamer had looked up at him with tear filled blue eyes- welling with fear. The Corinthian couldn't help but slip from the fabric of dreams and into reality. Into the Dreamers bed.

Atop the real thing.

It was a brief, thirty second affair. The Corinthian had caged the mortal down. And his knife- now very much real, carved against the screaming boys skin like butter. Releasing the biting scent of blood into the air.

A spark of excitement flickers in the back of his mind that felt like a distant memory being relived. A part of the old Corinthian rearing its ugly head.

It was the smell of blood that abruptly sent the Nightmare scuttling back to the Dreaming with his cosmetic heart hammering in his chest.

Dream couldn't know. It was so quick- He wouldn't have noticed the Corinthian's absence, would he?

All he did was cut the mortal- smelled his blood, tasted his fear.

But this is Dream we're talking about. The second iteration of the Corinthian has been walking on eggshells with Him for months since his remaking. Would Dream see this slight as a crime worthy of his undoing once more?

The Nightmare takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. Wishes the blood away from his frame. He's fine. He's in the Dreaming, where he belongs. Dream wouldn't have noticed his split absence, He has better things to do.

Turning towards the door, the Nightmare steps out of this now redundant dream to find somewhere to hide for a while.

The Nightmare cocks his head as the Knight makes his threat, and a bitter laugh peels from his lips.

"Your city?" He goads, slowly circling the Knight now that he's certain he needs to find a better weakness in the armour- and avoid those steel punches.

"I've been hunting these streets since before you were born, darling."

The monster snides, a cruel grin upon his lips as he lunges then. Vanishing from sight only to reappear behind the Knight with his arm around his neck - attempting to jam his knife up underneath the vigilante's helmet and into the soft underside of his jaw.

The Nightmare grunts as the Knights armoured fist collides with his cheek just as he felt his knife strike - forcing the monster to stagger backwards. Getting hit in the face with solid armour isn't exactly ideal, and with that minor distraction the Knight does manage to knock his knife out of his hand. The wound on his shoulder making his movements with that arm just a fraction slower than usual.

The monster curses as he phases out of the way, reappearing staggering a few meters away from Bruce as he raises his hand to rub a trail of blood from his nose.

The fact Bruce had disarmed him means nothing, his blade simply reappears in his hand. They are a part of him, after all. Glaring spitefully at the knight who had managed to both tear his suit and make his nose bleed.

The Nightmare grunts as the Knights armoured fist collides with his cheek just as he felt his knife strike - forcing the monster to stagger backwards. Getting hit in the face with solid armour isn't exactly ideal, and with that minor distraction the Knight does manage to knock his knife out of his hand. The wound on his shoulder making his movements with that arm just a fraction slower than usual.

The monster curses as he phases out of the way, reappearing staggering a few meters away from Bruce as he raises his hand to rub a trail of blood from his nose.

The fact Bruce had disarmed him means nothing, his blade simply reappears in his hand. They are a part of him, after all. Glaring spitefully at the knight who had managed to both tear his suit and make his nose bleed.

The Nightmare curses as Bruce manages to fend off the knife, knocking the monster backwards a little. But he still manages to keep a hold of his knife. Raising his arm to block a blow that comes for his armed hand. The Knight is trying to disarm him.

He disappears again, reappearing on the opposite side of Bruce and striking this time for the other leg - trying to pierce the thick leather armour that guards fragile skin.

gestures that get me going

many of these are meant to be spicy (i've been on my horny bullshit lately LOL), but some can be used in any kind of interactions, be them fluffy, smutty, antagonistic, romantic, anything. feel free to combine prompts & change/add any pronouns/descriptor words/etc that may be useful! softer things are more towards the bottom. add '+↺' to reverse sender and receiver!

[ SHIELD ] — sender steps in front of receiver protectively [ HEADLOCK ] — sender puts receiver in a headlock from behind [ COLLAR ] — sender grabs receiver by the collar of their shirt to pull their faces close together [ TIE ] — sender grabs receiver by their tie to pull their faces close together [ HAIR ] — sender pulls receiver's head back by their hair from behind [ MOUTH ] — sender puts their palm over receiver's mouth from behind to keep them quiet [ BUCKLE ] — sender begins to undo receiver's belt buckle [ LOOP ] — sender threads their fingers into the belt loops on receiver's pants [ POCKET ] — sender sticks their fingers into the pockets of receiver's pants (bonus: specify if they're the front pockets or the back pockets) [ BUTTON ] — sender undoes the buttons of receiver's shirt [ THROAT ] — sender lightly grazes along receiver's throat from behind [ CHOKE ] — sender puts a light to moderate amount of pressure on receiver's throat from behind [ CHEST ] — sender lightly grazes along receiver's chest from behind [ SIT ] — sender gently squeezes receiver's ass when they sit on sender's lap [ TOUCH ] — sender feels up receiver's abs [ SMOOTH ] — sender gently rubs their palm along receiver's bare ass [ MASSAGE ] — sender gently rubs their palms along receiver's bare back [ RUB ] — sender gently rubs their palms along receiver's bare thighs [ FEEL ] — sender gently rubs their palm between receiver's legs [ LICK ] — sender gently licks along receiver's nipples [ EASE ] — sender encourages receiver's legs open [ PULL ] — sender pulls receiver's pants/undergarments down out of the way of their ass [ WORSHIP ] — sender kisses and licks along receiver's tattoo(s) (specify if receiver has multiple) [ RING ] — sender kisses and licks along receiver's piercing(s) (specify if receiver has multiple) [ NIBBLE ] — sender nibbles against the shell/lobe of receiver's ear [ BITE ] — sender gently bites down on receiver's lower lip as they kiss [ SMOOCH ] — sender presses gentle kisses down the back of receiver's neck [ KISS ] — sender presses a bunch of little kisses along receiver's face [ GRAB ] — sender playfully squeezes some stray pudge on receiver's belly [ PLAY ] — sender playfully squeezes some stray pudge on receiver's thigh [ POKE ] — sender grabs onto receiver's love handles [ LIE ] — sender rests their head on receiver's chest to hear their heartbeat [ LINK ] — sender hooks their pinkie with receiver's [ REST ] — sender rests their chin on receiver's shoulder from behind [ GAME ] — sender traces lines to connect receiver's moles/other body marks into a bigger shape [ COVER ] — sender covers receiver's eyes from behind before removing them to reveal a big surprise [ WRITE ] — sender writes 'i love you' with their finger on an exposed part of receiver's skin (bonus: specify where)

The Corinthian - art by David Mack

sandman

as much as I love the idea of baby corinthian with 3 pacifiers I regret to inform you that he popped out the morpheussy as a 30 something year old man. he had no childhood. he came out paying taxes.

The Nightmare curses as Bruce manages to fend off the knife, knocking the monster backwards a little. But he still manages to keep a hold of his knife. Raising his arm to block a blow that comes for his armed hand. The Knight is trying to disarm him.

He disappears again, reappearing on the opposite side of Bruce and striking this time for the other leg - trying to pierce the thick leather armour that guards fragile skin.

A bitter laugh rolls off of the Corinthian's lips when Bruce gestures for him to make a move. Cocking his blond head to the side as he slowly begins to pace. His knife feeling heavy in his hand. Scrutinising that dark armour for any sign of a weak point.

The Nightmare stops. His feet brace, as though hes about to lunge forward - and he does, but before he reaches the Vigilante he once again vanishes.

Only to reappear in what he hopes to be a blind spot behind the knights shoulder. Driving his weapon for the back of the vigilante's knee. He needs to slow the asshole down if he has a chance of piercing that armour.

Questions for Immortals/Ancients

For ancient and/or immortal muses, here are some questions to build your headcanons!

😇Do you think you’ll ever experience an afterlife? 😷Do you have any weaknesses that could challenge your lifespan? 👥Have you met others like you? 👨‍👨‍👦Are you part of a family of ancients/immortals? 🎈Do you remember the start of your life? How long ago was it? 💔Is there anyone from your past that you missed for a long time? 😢Do you still think about people you knew years, even centuries, ago? 👶Do you have children? If you don’t, do you think they would be like you? 🍼 Would you ever consider having offspring with a mortal? 📕Do you ever run out of things to be curious about? 📗What is one of the most valuable things you’ve learned? 📘In the remainder of your life, what else do you hope to learn? 💀What is your opinion on death and mortality in general? 🥀Do you create bonds with mortals or avoid getting attached? ☹ Talk about your memory of a tragedy you’ve witnessed. 🖤Do you believe immortality changes someone for the worst? 🕗In your time, what has been one of the most interesting time periods?  ⏳Do you ever wish you had a mortal lifespan? 😿Is there any one person you would sacrifice your immortality for? 🎁Name one thing that never gets old or loses its charm for you. 🔮Have you ever considered (or looked for) ways to end your immortality? 🤡How do you deal with avoiding suspicion while living forever? ✨Other than immortality, do you have other supernatural abilities? 🌱What is one thing about the world you’ve come to appreciate? 🌼Have you traveled? If so, name one place that you love the most. 💾Do you ever have trouble with new technology? 💗Is there one mortal in your life you will never forget? 🎼What is your opinion on how music, art, and culture has changed? 💕Do you think two immortals could handle one another’s company forever? 🙄How do you handle boredom and monotony? 💿What is one (or more) inventions you’re thankful exist in your current time? 👿Would you ever use your power and knowledge to destroy? 🌋Do you think you will be alive to see the end of the world? 🗻Do you ever want to escape society altogether for a while? 🤠Have you ever disguised yourself or gone by different names?

The Nightmare, disgruntled as Castiel pushes him inside the store, straightens up and adjusts his sleeves. Keeping the enchanted steel of the handcuffs hidden beneath beige fabric. Both cuffs are tightly bound around one wrist. It gives him use of both hands - and the appearance of freedom. But those enchanted runes still keep him severed from the Dreaming. Unable to use his abilities.

Castiels muttered explanation as to why he brought the Nightmare here has the monster rolling his non existent eyes.

"I don't fuck for orgasms." The Corinthian snides, before picking a direction and wandering in it. His gaze pans the shelves, until his attention locks on an employee diligently working behind a counter.

He licks his lips. Casting an idle glance in Castiels direction - the Angel looks busy examining the S&M gear. The Corinthian doubts Castiel has the faintest clue how to use any of it.

Slipping up to the counter, the Nightmare greets the cashier with a handsome smile.

The cashier looks up, momentarily surprised, before the smile is returned in kind.

"Hey, can I help you with something?" The bright, blue eyed young man asks.

The Corinthian bashfully chuckles, giving the air of a man who is woefully ashamed. He speaks low, dropping his voice.

"Hey, yeah, you don't happen to have a few sets of handcuff keys, do you? My partner ah, misplaced them." The Corinthian murmurs with sheepish embarrassment as he raises his sleeve a little to show the set of handcuffs attached to his wrist.

The employee raises his brows, but nods. Chuckling off the awkwardness.

"Yeah, surprisingly, you're not the first couple to have that issue. I should have a few sets around you can try."

@eyeless-smiles ;; realistic sex (still accepting) The Nightmare said: “Wait, I thought you were joking when you said you wanted to try this.”

                           "WELL, I WASN'T," CASTIEL REPLIES AIRILY AS HE BODILY PUSHES THE NIGHTMARE INTO THE STORE. "You kept talking about how you're missing it and how you're surely dying without it, and you know what, I'm not cruel, I won't keep orgasms from you because they are, in fact, really spectacular. I just won't let you hurt innocents. Luckily, humanity came up with a million different ways to pleasure themselves without a partner. So you can get whatever you need here." And then stop bothering me, is left unsaid as Castiel curiously peers around the sex shop. There are lots of ailes and little hand-drawn signs above the shelves that indicate what you can find there. Castiel doesn't know what S&M is, but he strolls toward it, interest piqued. Maybe there are more Pizza Man movies.

Voidlike shades reflect Clints gaze back at him motionlessly. Witnessing the missing Avengers little display of unrestrained frustration bubbling over. His tongue flicks past his lips to taste a hint of all that reigned in anger. He even detects a flicker of desire to do him harm.

Delicious.

"You sure you want to hang around, Clint Barton?" He cocks his head slightly, gauging the marksmans willingness to remain seated with the possibility of his identity and location being revealed.

"In a few minutes, this place is going to start filling up. Make no mistake, they're gonna be here for you. Leave with me now, and I can save you the trouble of all that media attention."

The Nightmare smiles.

"The bartenders not coming back."

eyeless-smiles asked: [ PULL ]:  sender  pulls  receivers  hair. (For Clint, found him!)

@defectivexfragmented

Another town, another no name hole in the wall bar. Not that it mattered to him as long as they were fully stocked behind the bar and didn't say shit about his name. Clint was a paying customer after all. He simply wanted his glass to remain full and to drink in peace. It had been over a year at this point and the Avengers still hadn't managed to track him down, even with Tony's tech and Natasha's skills. Finishing off his second glass of bourbon, the archer waved to the bartender to indicate he wanted another and set the empty glass towards the inside of the countertop. The drink was replaced before the bartender headed into the back, assuming to the bathroom, and leaving him alone in the empty bar. Clint let out a heavy sigh, gaze briefly turning towards the old television mounted on the wall and was relieved to see no mention of the Missing Avenger on the news. It was an old news story but every so often it would pop back up and he would have lay low for a bit. His thoughts were elsewhere when the fingers ran through his hair to take a firm handful and yank his head backwards with a harsh grunt. Blue eyes quickly came to narrow on the face above of the asshole standing above him. "Unless you want your hand shoved so far up your ass that you can bit your fingernails, I would suggest you let me go. Now."

Clints steely blue gaze is met by midnight glass. Reflecting the mortals own appearance back at himself. Below them, a cold calculating smile is worn by a deceptively handsome face.

The Corinthian's golden digits remain tightly bound in the missing Avengers locks, despite the graphic threat. A low rumble of sultry humour purring in the Nightmare's chest when he dares to crane Clints neck back just a little farther.

"Hush, doll. You don't want to alarm the bartender." Casting an idle glance back towards the tv that Clint had been staring at moments prior, the Nightmare purses his lips.

"You've spent far too long disappearing to ruin all that effort. Now, finish your drink, and you and me are gonna head out for a little chat." The fingers in his hair loosen, roughly letting go of the Avengers head to step to the side and wait patiently for Clint to get out of his seat and make a move for the door.

The Nightmare huffs slightly as Rashad's demeanour seems to take a pitiful turn. His lips curling back over his teeth with his tongue clicking.

"I'm not mad." He promptly reminds the inebriated mortal as he strides in after and promptly shuts the door.

"But I'm sure as hell going to face some mob justice for what just happened back there if we don't move." The Corinthian follows Rashad into the room, grabbing a few of the Warlocks belongings and helping him pack them.

"People don't take kindly to public displays of murder."

He stops for a brief second as he's shoving some of Rashad's clothes away. Glancing up at the mortal.

"What did you do to piss those men off?"

Send 💥 for your muse to witness mine being surrounded and beaten up.

((Rashad))

Oh, this certainly wasn't where he thought he would end up after Corinthian took off to have a solo venture around the small town. Given, some of the people here might be from every nook and cranny in this land as this touristic town didn't really filter through anyone that came here, but he didn't imagine he would encounter such volatile - and admittedly dangerous - people all the way out here.

He supposed he wasn't entirely innocent. Taking to try a set of new drinks down at the local tavern sounded like a good idea at first, until he realized the alcohol percentage was probably higher than he thought and it was clouding his judgement. The next thought he had was how funny it would be to use Prestidigitation and cause a crackling noise to scare one of the patrons sitting about at the further tables, inevitably causing the man to choke on the current stew he was eating and fall off his chair. Next thing he knows, he was trapped in a sphere of Silence to prevent him from casting, and beaten fiercely by a bunch of mercenaries.

While he was a rather decent fighter with his trusted scimitar, he couldn't summon it now even if he desperately wanted to. One of them held his arms behind his back as the other kept digging his heel further into his side with every kick, causing Rashad another fit of coughing fresh blood.

In hindsight, this was a bad idea. He wasn't the best drinker, and he knew he was an even more terrible drunk. Why wasn't his patron helping him? Well, this was... A question for later, he supposed. He was sure wherever the Sultan was, he was probably enjoying the show.