#The Corinthain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

acapelladitty · 9 months

Text

Antenora (Sandman Fic)

Summary - Instead of unmaking the Corinthian, Dream sets out a punishment far more cruel and fitting for his betrayal.

Also posted to AO3

Tucked away on a jagged cliffside which overlooked the violently churning ink-black seas of Nightmare below, sat a tree. Its thick trunk anchored it to the shifting sands below, dry bark knotted and twisted as the harsh, winter-frozen winds slowly flayed away ragged strips to expose the bleeding wood below.

Its branches were gnarled and fierce, clawed into their form like a vicious beast desperately trying to escape its rooted position within the world. A brilliant, almost ethereal, shade of scarlet, it was a tree which radiated a terrible beauty that compelled the eye to behold it while also chastising the voyeur by inspiring a deep sense of dread as each stunning branch was surveyed in turn.

But the true allure of the tree was not its natural beauty, crafted personally by the merciless hand of the Nightmare King, but in the suffering nightmare which hung from its most central branch, his bare feet dangling several feet high from the safety of the cruel sand below.

Naked as a newborn babe, the only adornment which he was permitted to hold - aside from the pale noose which held him suspended like a marionette - was a simple wooden sign that hung around his neck to cover the upper part of his torso. The coarse, rusted metal chain looped around his nape delved into the chaffed skin there like a lovers caress, sparking a small yet never-ending thin rivulet of blood to run down his pale frame until it was swallowed by the sand below.

Upon there, inscribed on the sign by a sharp finger which scored across the wood like a glowing brand, lay a single scrawled word.

Traitor.

The latest in a long list of titles reserved for the once-feared arch nightmare of the Dream Lord, the Corinthian. A creature of narrative, he wore his assigned role like the finest of fabrics, even when said story condemned him and tore at his skin with all the regard of the coarsest sandpaper.

He cut a fine figure, even in such a sorry state. His naked frame hung gracelessly as his hands remained pinned to his side in a lifeless fashion. The Corinthain was a creature built for beauty, a natural magnetism which attracted prey as easily as it repulsed them on some primal level. Toned limbs paired with fine, strong features that refused to be anything but as pretty as a picture even as they strained against their fate.

For the Corinthian, time had long since lost all meaning as he served his sentence.

The first year of his punishment had sparked desperation, dull fingers clawing frantically at the soft noose as it held him suspended in the never-ending discomfort of near death. He panicked. He kicked. And still he swung, his movements almost a bastardised version of a game that children would play around such an old tree. In this state of desperation, the Corinthian’s nails had lacerated at his strained neck until his digits grew bloodied and painfully raw but it made no difference.

---

The Dream Lord had been clear in his punishment.

The Corinthian gazed at the long strips of cloth which lay in a messy spread across the obsidian table. Stripped of his finery and bolted in place by heavy chains which restricted his body and choked his bare flesh, the things he dared take pleasure in as he allowed Dream to be held captive had been torn from him in an instant and the shame of his forced nudity spread through his frame like a roiling sickness.

“He could unmake us.” His left eye whispered and the Corinthian snapped it shut with a rough blink. Fear, potent in its intensity, kept both his knees and his gaze rooted to the barbed floor regardless of how uncomfortable the position quickly grew. Dream wanted him punished and the very terrain would see to it that his will was met.

"Wants to hurt us instead." The right eye confirmed before quickly finding itself snapped shut with equal prejudice.

A sharp crack, almost like lightning, caused the Corinthian to flinch in place. His exposed spine shuddered against the sudden chill as Dream filled the space before him in an instant, blotting out everything but the dark table and shredded scraps of suit before him.

Weave them.

Falling into the subservience which threaded his very DNA, the Corinthian bowed his head once more and refused eye contact with his maker.

"I don't understand."

You were not created to understand. Your pride in assuming you are entitled to it is flawed.

Flawed.

A flash of rage curled low in the Corinthian's belly as his head snapped up. Subservient, yes, but he was not built to show belly.

"Fucking unmake me then. Do it. Just like Gault and the others. The void can't be any worse than this. These-" he paused to allow his thoughts to catch up with his rebellious tongue, "fucking guessing games."

The void would not suffice. An example must be made. By moving against me, you snared a noose around your own throat, and you will now see it to completion.

Glancing down at the cloth strips, the Corinthian's fate grew clearer before his eyes, the ending to his tale sinking its barbs deeper into his unwilling skin, and a fresh bubble of panic ignited deep within his core.

No.

The refusal came quickly, rising in his chest even as his lips refused to form around it. However, he could hide nothing of himself from Dream and the internal hesitation may as well have been a howled emotional display for all the good it would do him.

A sickening snap preceded the scream which tore free of the Corinthian's throat as his fingers moved of their own accord. The only exception being the pinkie which now bent at a right angle from the rest of the digits.

Weave.

Dream once again demanded without a voice.

And the Corinthian, red tracks of bloodied tears now flowing freely from his ocular teeth, obeyed.

The narrative demanded penance and the press of it against his being traitorously eroded away the blinding anger which sparked his betrayal. Unable to do much more, his fingers moved diligently of their own accord as they wove the strips of his former suit into a thick rope; every movement sparking fresh pain in the snapped pinkie.

Memories of Calliope, of all people, stirred within his frantic mind. She had taught him the intricacies of crafting, her fascination with his status as a nightmare of such power inspiring her to inspire him in turn, to see what a monster such as he could construct if so pressed. Her teachings were soft and under her command he had grown in both technique and innovation; his fingers defter and more artistic in his wicked trade as he passed his skills along to his day trade.

A howl brokered free of his throat as a deep gouge tore itself asunder from his thigh; the stench of blood arousing his hunger even as his body curled in on itself to avoid any further pains. To that end, the Corinthian, panting and writhing in discomfort, shook his head free of the memories as their presence was clearly not appreciated by his wrathful master.

Before too long, his clothing had been reluctantly reconstructed into a thick length of rope; each strand containing various shades of beige and white as they melted together to form something which filled the Corinthian with horror as he beheld it.

A noose.

Fit for an apostate.

---

After clawing at the noose provided no relief to his suffering frame, the Corinthian tried to plead.

He screamed for forgiveness, for a mercy which he knew was undeserved. The narrative painted him as a traitor and would see him punished as such. His betrayal had cost the Dream Lord a friend in the shape of his raven and that sting, no matter how slight it may grow over time, would be punished a millennia over. He howled through the noose, the sounds reduced to little more than choking coughs and unknown sibilance, until he thought his ears would burst from the noise which refused to leave his lips and his lungs burned red-hot from the effort.

Eventually, the screaming stopped, and the Corinthian found himself reduced to pitiful sobs. They often resembled the cries of a neglected child in pain, desperate for some attention, be it positive or negative from those who had abandoned it and the shame of each bloodied tear burned across his cheek. However, even these tears came to pass, and the Corinthian was left with nothing but the ache in his lungs from the limited oxygen he was permitted to receive.

The shores of Nightmare were not an area of pure isolation, rather, many nightmares and a few envoys of various realms found themselves caught in the thin, winding path which passed before the brilliant scarlet tree. The nightmares knew, because of course they did, of the fate of the Corinthian as he remained frozen in a living hell but to an unexpecting party it provided quite the harrowing sight.

Word of mouth proved itself a terrible thing and many within the Dreaming itself found themselves curious and, even in this innocent curiosity, the ingenuity of the Dream Lord would come into play.

Any who would dare to approach, who would dare to attempt to touch the guilty - regardless if it were to persecute or palliate - would find themselves gripped by a primal fear. It would pierce their heart in such a way that many fell to their knees, clutching at their chest like babes as ice ran through their veins and the whispers of a warning, carved into the very earth they stood, caressed their ears.

Leave him.

He is not to be disturbed.

Only observed.

The will of the Dream Lord. A brutal and relentless thing which defied mercy at every turn. To touch the Corinthian would provide him an anchor to latch onto other than the punishment he deserved and that could not be allowed. He was to suffer.

Alone.

Forgotten.

To suffer the fate he intended for his master.

Tucked away on a jagged cliffside which overlooked the violently churning ink-black seas of Nightmare below, hung a nightmare.

Perhaps one day his Lord would forgive him his slight and return him to his former glory as a member of the Major Arcana. Or, perhaps one day the Dream Lord would recall his favoured nightmare and the fate which befell him. He would recall the millennia of loyalty before the grapes turned sour, and finally grant him the mercy of the unfeeling void.

Until then, the Corinthian would remain; unintelligible, whispered pleas carrying on the frigid winds of Nightmare to strike unease in the heart of any unfortunate enough to hear them.

#the sandman #the corinthian #dream of the endless #no shipping here lmao. just bad times #sandman #sandman corinthian #boyd holbrook #tom sturridge #lord morpheus #morpheus

20 notes · View notes

orangechickenpillow · 2 years

Text

I really want to know what went down with Corinthian and Jed's foster dad because that please was absolutely trashed and I think seeing Corinthain beat the shit out of that guy would be really satisfying

#the corinthian #jed walker #the sandman #the sandman netflix

76 notes · View notes

manndraki · 2 months

Note

que ta acontecendo com corinthains ? perdeu o itaquerão agora o goleiro cassios e esta perdendo por 2 a 1 contra o palmeiras...

KKKKKKK FALOU CEDO DEMAIS CORNO KKKKKAKAKAKKAKAKAKAKAK

#ask

5 notes · View notes

mlmxreader · 2 years

Text

Coffee and Cake | Corinthian x nb!reader

Anonymous asked: Corinthain x Enby Reader

"I'm stressed, and I'm cold, and I'm wet because I had to walk through the fucking rain"

where reader meets him while they are walking home from class and it's dark and raining and they seek shelter in an old 50s themed diner that he happens to be in as well. and cause its bum fuck middle of the night it's just the two of them the waitress and cook

summary: it's raining, it's dark, there's a fifties diner that's almost empty... except for a very handsome American who's got charm for days

tws: swearing, mentions of smoking

It was dark, the rain in tap steadily but harshly as you trudged home from your university classes, knowing that you would need to find somewhere to wait the rain out for a while or else risk getting soaked; sure, you didn't live that far from campus, a short hour walk, but you couldn't walk home in such conditions. In the distance, however, you could see a little diner that made you breathe out a sigh of relief, and you headed over; there was no one inside, except for a friendly waitress who greeted you with a warm smile and a soft voice, and the cook in the back, who waved and grinned at you.

The diner itself was nice, styled after the fifties although the only music that played came from the kitchen, and was modern heavy metal that you recognised well and that made you relax a little more as you allowed the waitress to show you to a booth; but that's when you saw him. Blonde, tall, handsome, sipping on a cup of coffee as he kept his gaze hidden behind dark and thick rimmed glasses; he wasn't wearing anything particularly special, just a greenish brown shirt with a zip and an off-white coat, but something about him caught your attention, and after ordering yourself a coffee and a bit of cake, you felt your breath leave you.

He cleared his throat, and gestured to the seat opposite you. "Is this one taken?"

You shook your head, staring at him with wide eyes. "N-no... please."

Hecleared his throat as he sat down opposite you, the cup he brought over clinking softly against the table; he smiled, and you could have sworn that you lost all of your breath. The rain started to hammer down. "Y'know, not many people come to places like this so late at night... unless they're waiting for someone."

"I'm not," you replied quietly, "well, I'm waiting for the rain to calm down or to stop but... that's it."

"You don't have someone who could pick you up?"

"No," you sighed. "What about you? You waiting on someone?"

He shook his head, a couple of strands of blonde coming loose. "No. I just wanted a cup of coffee... but I wouldn't mind some decent conversation with someone as good looking as yourself."

"Look, you seem nice but I'm stressed, and I'm cold, and I'm wet because I had to walk through the fucking rain, and I... am exhausted," you laughed softly. "I don't think I'd be a good conversation partner."

You looked at your cake for a second before deciding fuck it, and eating it as quickly as you could; you had not had a thing since dinnertime and you were famished. If the handsome stranger wanted to complain, he could try walking a mile in your worn out Vans. But he didn't, he just sat there, drinking his coffee and keeping his gaze on you; leaned back a little and his head slightly tilted to the side. Blonde strands were smoothed back into place when he ran his hand through his hair, even daring to lean his head back enough to expose his throat.

"Do you want another slice? I'll get you one," he offered. "Or I can get you an actual meal."

"I'm good," you shook your head. "Thanks, though..." you swallowed down the last bite and cleared your throat. "I don't think I said earlier, but uhm, I'm (y/n)."

"Corinthian," he replied with a nod, "pleasure."

You nodded, and rummaged through your pockets to find your cigarettes and lighter, when the pronoun pin and the nonbinary flag pin that you used in work fell onto the table with a clatter; your heart raced when he picked one of them up and examined it.

"This is the nonbinary flag, right?" He asked. You nodded. "I thought so... y'know, if you want them to stay put in your pocket, clip them onto the lining."

Gently, Corinthian handed your pins back, and you nodded slowly, stuttering out your thanks; but then, he didn't ask anything further. He didn't pry and he didn't want to know everything about your personal life, and you couldn't help but to sigh. You always dreaded when people saw them when you didn't want them to, but he didn't seem to care.

"You're not... you're not gonna say anything?"

"No," Corinthian shook his head. "We're strangers, it's not my business. You don't owe me an explanation, or anything like that... just tell me: do you like being called puppy?"

The way he said it with that American accent made your heart thunder as you swallowed thickly and tugged at the collar of your hoodie. "Yeah..."

"Good," he mused. "So, puppy, if you don't mind... would you wanna come over to my place after you've finished that coffee? We can talk properly there."

"Why ask now?" You laughed softly, a little nervous and really, really hoping that he wasn't the type who would want you just because you were nonbinary without actually respecting that.

Corinthian shrugged. "Because my car doesn't have a roof, and the rain's finally stopped."

You dared to look outside, and he was right; it was just drizzling, now, and when you turned back to him, you thought about it for a second. "What, like a date? Fuck... alright, sure."

Maybe you were being stupid and reckless and he couldn't be trusted, but something about the Corinthian made you feel safe, and the way he licked his lips made you shiver and, fuck, if you didn't want to know him better. You really wanted to get to know him; you just hoped it wouldn't rain when you were in the car with him, you weren't sure if you could stomach getting any more soggy from the head down.

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

#mlem writes #the corinthian x y/n #the corinthian x reader #corinthian x you #corinthian x y/n #corinthian x reader #the corinthian imagine #corinthian #the corinthian #the sandman x reader #the sandman imagine #sandman imagine #sandman x reader #the sandman #sandman

56 notes · View notes

corinthian-og-begay-docrime · 2 years

Text

The Corinthian is 100% unchecked middle child energy. That man just wants validation and he never for got it. He wants attention.

Lucienne is the eldest and that needs no explication.

Gault is the youngest. She is baby

Fiddler’s green is the single child who got siblings when he was like 19 vibes.

#the sandman corinthian #the sandman #the sandman Netflix #fiddlers green #gault #the corinthian #lucienne #siblings #corinthain is the middle child and i will die on that hill

808 notes · View notes

gabessquishytum · 1 year

Note

batmna au. dream is the batman and corinthain is the diddler and

hob is some guy. he's certainly there. catches the attention of the both of them. i lvoe gay people

Hey anon how does it feel to be the funniest person on tumblr dot com

#the sandman #no joke anon you're actually the funniest person here #i also have NOT see batman so i cant really elaborate on your au but i still think its iconique #i also lvoe gay people <3 #dreamling

33 notes · View notes

plong42 · 2 years

Text

Witnesses to the Resurrection – 1 Corinthians 15:5-11

Witnesses to the Resurrection – 1 Corinthians 15:5-11 -

To show that the resurrection of Jesus is credible, Paul lists several witnesses to the fact that Jesus was alive (15:5-7). Cephas and then to the Twelve. While the Gospels report the first witnesses of the resurrection were the women who came to the tomb to anoint Jesus, this creedal statement pre-dates the Gospels and begins with an appearance first to Peter. This may be Luke 24:36-49,…

View On WordPress

#1 Corinthains #Paul #Resurrection

0 notes

envihellbender · 1 year

Note

Out of all the people in his cultlike church, only the barely adult Corinthian can summon anything, let allne the Lord of Dream.

Characters: Morpheus, The Corinthian (The Sandman)

Verse: Human!Corinthian, Cult AU

There was a sort of invisible explosion, and a loud clattering noise which ended in The Corinthain falling to his knees at the summoning circle. He was panting in exhaustion with tears pouring down his pale cheeks. He opened his eyes, the ones that only gave him blurred vision as if it had a film over it, to see a figure standing in the centre of the circle. He’d suspected when he felt the intense wave of … feeling that it had worked. He couldn’t describe it better than that, it was just an extreme energy that was the combination of every different feeling ever felt and then it was gone. Now all that was left was a circle of salt, expertly placed candles, and a strange figure in the centre. He gave a breathless laugh in disbelief, blinking rapidly as he got to his feet to access the situation.

The being in the centre looked oddly humanoid, given the texts the Angelic Sect studied The Corinthian was expecting something more animalistic. Perhaps with horns, wings, a thousand eyes, hooves… instead he just found himself face to face with a tall, pale man who look almost skeletal with wild black hair. He seemed ethereal, but The Corinthain couldn’t explain why. Perhaps it was his black robes, the red Ruby around his neck, or the mask that fell to the ground when he’d been summoned. Or maybe it was that his eyes seemed to contain the entire galaxy in his irises.

“You’re a human. A human managed to summon me,” the being said, his voice deep and cold. A chill filled The Corinthian’s body as he heard it, it was as if the depths of the earth were speaking to him. “What do they call you, human?”

“It would see so. I’m The Corinthian.”

“The Corinthian?”

“It… in my… I am apart of the Angelic Sect. We have titles here. I suppose- my name before was Corin.”

“And why have you bound me?”

“Honestly, I didn’t know if I could. No one’s ever managed to before.”

“Explain.”

“We are dedicated to summoning gods, angels, demons, and you know, other stuff. But we’ve never actually managed to before. Until me.” The Corinthian’s face broke into a proud smirk.

“So. Now will you free me, human?”

“No. I need to show you off. And find out more about you. Then I will think about what to do.”

“These gods, angels, and demons you try to summon… you worship them, yes?”

“I. Well. We haven’t-”

“So as it stands you would not wish to make the one you worship angry, no?”

“I… well, I- look, you’re in the summoning circle. You can’t leave. So you can’t fight me.”

“Yet.”

“Tell me what you are.” The creature stood in silence, staring angrily directly into The Corinthian’s face causing him to look away as if he burned his eyes. “Please. I want to know.”

“Will you free me?”

“After I’ve shown you to my Bishop and found out what you are,” The Corinthian said. He wanted that to be a lie, more than anything… but he suspected that if he did the creature would know.

“Fine,” the being sighed. “I am… Morpheus. Lord of Dreams and Nightmares.”

“Like the Sandman,” The Corinthian said in wonder, before growing embarrassed at his childish connection. He couldn’t help but think of the stories he had read to him as a child, it made all the more amazing to him.

“That- that is a name I have gone by.” Morpheus’ head tilted to the side slightly in curiosity at his summoner.

“Wait, seriously? The sandman from the fairytale, that’s you? That’s a real thing?”

“It would seem so. Now, I tire of this. Show me off like an animal in an exhibit if you must,” Morpheus said, visibly and audibly irritated. The Corinthian watched Morpheus the entire time as he left the room, almost running as he did so.

#morpheus #the Corinthian #human au #cult au #envi writes #the sandman #prompts #ninetimesthepain

7 notes · View notes