#[ thread. — you don't think dreams can die? let's find out ]

[korinthiakos]

starter call ( accepting ) | @ghostlyxserenade

The Corinthian wanders in, a hand in his pocket, the other pushing open the door to enter the shop. The nightmare lets out a hum, browsing the shelves before his attention landed on her. “Quite the shop you got here. Are you perhaps the owner?”

[korinthiakos]

It was intriguing and perhaps even amusing to witness someone lying. Corinthian was the master of lying - an artist of manipulation. He knew certain expressions and even body language from those who failed to hide the truth. The nightmare eventually smiles, and a small hint of familiarity echoes in his mind. It's like he had seen those eyes before. Yet he tries not to think much on it for the moment.

"To the point where you put your nose in books? I'm familiar with people who choose to live their fantasies with pages of fiction. Be honest now."

╭┈◦•◦┈➤ Multi-colored eyes fix him with a stare while she reigns in every emotion that tries to weasel it's way out on her face. She can't hide the ones that hide in her eyes; the doubt at being called pretty, the fear of connection, the worry that comes with exposure. ❝ I don't lack confidence. ❞ Yes, she does. ❝ I don't have any desire to involve myself with someone. ❞ Yes, she does. ❝ I don't need any help. ❞ YES, SHE DOES!

❝ I'm quite content with my life. ❞ She doesn't sound very convincing. After all, Alice is not the type to lie and lie well. @korinthiakos

[exo-raskreia]

hey.... i wanna know your honest Thoughts on the jjk ending? Give a rating out 10. Honestly i'm ranting. I mean the good things in the chapter were sukuna's conclusion, the flashback with gojo , queen utahime being alive yay and the nice art with everyone at the end. Usually i would wait for a story to finish before ranting/judging but my god this kinda sucked. I don't want to be too critical but god I am just disappointed and kinda mad. Overall it is an okay/mid manga ;). Gege is not worst writer but ughh. Aot or mha sure they have their flaws but my god..These should never be compared to THIS. so now we could really say that gojo stayed south. With the full chapter, this does not change my opinion cause it still kinda sucks overall even with the whole north vs south meaning. Nothing really changed in the society or lessons maybe except for yuji and sukuna. The kiddos all really went back to missions huh after everything. I have alot to say with relationships and bonds, wasted potential on many aspects but that is a whole other discussion. i totally understand we can't write a backstory for every single character but that is not what i am insinuating here and yes there should be room for a little literary interpretation . That a whole different topic... Anyways I agree with alot your rants. i would like to hear your opinions. In the end we never got to see a gjhm flashback unfortunately. Ok so let say gojo is dead dead I find it hard to believe no was like remembering or acknowledging not even his comrades ( examples shoko, utahime etc_ or the students (i mean i am pretty sure these characters would but i would like to SEE it you know) and so many hints were gearing for gojo's revival but it is meaningless... and was used for pr ngl that's sad. Maybe the anime would do better at some aspects but i will be salty anyways. i will see uta's dance ;) animated so that i looking forward to and ig the maki's massacre. it looks like it's open ending but really!? They are some loop holes but HEY FEAR not we will probably see answers to our questions in the q&a segment! sigh. I lowkey do not want a "jjk part 2" it is draining. Gege when i catch you. I think gege intended this story to be short oh well. I have alot to say but this gonna be a novel lol. Sorry for errors i was in a moment and i hoped you understood what i wanted to say. Hope the gojohime fandom would not die and looking forward to see some nice content.

Thankyou

I already went on a mini rant here. If I have to rate the ending, I'd say maybe 2-4 out of 10?

JJK really did turn out kinda mid. It has an easy anime to get into (the anime carries it mostly 🫣), to recommend for newbies, but that ending will make one hesitate to recommend it now. Maybe wouldn't even bother to.

I'm also disappointed & mad. I don't even wanna consider that Gojo is fully dead (cuz Gege went about it so terribly). Gege skipped Gojo's whole month after his unsealing then killed him off-panel a few chapters later. The north & south thing was pointless. We didn't even get to see Gojo make a choice. There were so many hints about his potential revival but they amounted to nothing.

Summed up in this image:

This Tweet sums up the terrible mishandling of Gojo's character too 😡. This other short thread pretty much says that his "death" didn't make sense for Gojo either; accepting to stay at the airport is him regressing to his teen self. It doesn't properly conclude Gojo's character arc at all. He was meant to MOVE ON from the loss of his "springtime of youth" & continue to strive for a better future with his comrades & students; the future that HE DREAMED OF 😤 (oof, don't wanna rant further on Gojo; don't wanna make this longer 😅).

Honestly, the fan theories made the story seem much better than it actually was. At least with this ending, people can finally start seeing & admitting that Gege isn't a great writer. I've certainly never thought he was 😒; I once went on a rant here about most issues with this manga, one of them being how terribly fast-paced it is. This story is the definition of wasted potential. So many missed opportunities.

Whatever Gege comes up with for the databook, it'll be infuriating. He'll try to fill in the plot holes but man, I don't think it'll be satisfying. He might not even answer the burning questions everyone has (just like Kub0 never answered everyone's burning questions about the Bl3ach ED, or more like, no one dared to ask. Maybe he himself didn't allow those questions for his interviews 😒). Hope ppl don't give him any more money, especially cuz he's still milking Gojo, such as with that Hidden Inventory movie no one asked for.

I kinda wanted a Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 1 ending (lol) & then on to the supposed JJK part 2, esp cuz of this sketch here but Gege fumbled hard.

Wonder if Mappa could deliver but we'll see. I only care about GojoHime's 200% Hollow Purple now. Gege made me lose most interest I had for other things getting animated. Just thinking about that ending will mostly ruin my experience... 😞

I also hope the GojoHime fandom continues to thrive. We've always lived off of crumbs... Hope ppl continue to make headcanons, fanfics, fanart, etc... I wouldn't want ppl to leave such a beautiful ship with so much potential 🥺 (I've been thru this type of thing before with Bl3ach, so despite the disappointment, I've stuck around in my ship fandoms only. I don't engage with anything else in that series. Another beloved series of mine also ended terribly but unfortunately, the fandom kinda faded or became inactive cuz it's a manhwa 🥺; if it at least had a proper anime adaptation, then...).

Let's stay strong, GojoHime fam! 🥹❤️‍🩹

[korinthiakos]

starter call ( accepting ) | @ada1r

“You should watch yourself. The inquisition may be doing their best, but there are still Templars about; watching your every move. I bet they'll bring back the Circles. Limiting us again.”

[gabessquishytum]

Oh OG Warprize Hob Anon wherefore art thou..... I just thought it was time to show thanks and appreciation for one of the best AUs (imo) to come out of the Dreamling ship. Not a week goes by where I don't think about their writing, and spin headcanons and scenarios of my own in my head. One of the most underrated aspects of their writing I think is Dream's ruthlessness and cruelty in that AU, it's so rare to see Dream just be a toppy asshole all the way through, fellow fans seem to prefer to see him as an emotional bottom twink 😭. One of the rare AUs where Hob is allowed to be the sensitive wanton bottom all throughout 🤤🤤 Ohh OG Warprize Hob Anon, I miss your writing so much, I hope to see your writing grace this dashboard once more, especially with more dark Dream moments. For my fellow fans, I thought I'd do a small thing and compile all their asks here. I'm so sorry if this is sloppy, but I just copy-pasted these here.

Warprize Hob AU

Anonymous asked:

I don’t know where this came from?? Dubcon/noncon cw, or it’s kinky roleplay if you prefer that. But...

Hob fought bravely, a solider in the war of greater men. He even crossed blades with terror in all black, the Nightmare King himself once. They said it was better for a solider like him to die with honor than to be taken alive. But when the tide turned and Hob’s own sworn sovereign fell, all he wanted was to live. He laid down his blade, expecting to be taken into chains. But not chains like these.

He kneels, blindfolded, on the bed, naked other than pure gold bondage, thin chains that truss him everywhere. Gold binds his hands at his back. Gold cuffs secure his ankles, connected by a flimsy thread only put there so it could be snapped apart. Gold laces around his tits, catching in his chest hair. Gold threads between new ruby piercings in his nipples—still so sensitive that even the touch of silk sends bolts of pure heat through his body. Every time he twitches, he sees stars. Gold loops like garters around his thighs, connected to the glimmering chain around his hips. And gold ribbon cages his achingly hard cock and full balls.

Hob is so, so hard. He has been since they fed him sweet candied fruits laced with a magic that heated his blood until he was begging those faceless servants to please, please let him come. They didn’t. Instead, he was bathed and perfumed with jasmine oil brushed through his hair (everywhere). He was opened with gentle touches and generous oil, a marble plug nestled inside him, blessedly cool against his burning skin. He was left on the bed with a final chain connecting his collar to the bedframe.

His prick so hard in its confines, and the plug is not enough. He still feels terribly empty. Against his own will, he finds himself rocking back and forth, rubbing his thighs together, desperate for anything that might help him get pleasure where he needs it most.

Until with no warning, a hand touches his head. He stills. He thought he was alone. Strong, thin fingers brush down his face, linger on his lips. A gentle thumb pushes inside his mouth. Hob moans, body thrumming like a harp just to be touched so simply.

“Peace, my prize,” a deep voice, peaceful as slumber, murmurs. The blindfold is pulled down and Hob blinks blearily into the face of the Nightmare King himself. He smiles, confident and regal, and slim fingers caress his side, down to his ass, and push against the plug until it finally presses where Hob needs it. "I will give you what you crave.”

Gabe:

Mmmm yes!!!! I love this.

Hob as Dream’s chosen prize after his victory in battle? Oh yes, excellent. I particularly adore the idea of Hob being unknowingly fed some kind of aphrodisiac to make him needy - Dream wants him to be willing, so he will simply make sure that he has no choice but to be.

Also, the preparation... Hob would usually be utterly humiliated by such an act. It's so impersonal and degrading. But all he can think about is how much he wants to cum, so he spends the whole time whining and begging for more. By the time Dream gets to him, Hob is spreading his legs like a well trained whore who's never known anything different. He's nearly forgotten the battle and his instincts as a warrior, he just wants to be fucked. Anyone could come into the room and have him and Hob would just be grateful.

But he isn't for just anyone, oh no. He's the king’s prize, his spoils of war. He suckles desperately on Dream’s thumb, sticks his arse out temptingly and generally tries to make himself as tempting as possible. He aches, and his brain is fuzzy, the king is absolutely the most beautiful thing Hob has ever seen right now.

Not to mention his cock is perfect - the most perfect Hob has ever had inside him. It's as though his body has been molded perfectly for the king’s cock. He's not sure if he's ever cum so many times in his life.

When he comes back to himself several hours later, sweating and sticky and aching... he knows that he should be angry and hurt. He should get up from the beautiful bed and find some way to escape. But. He's tired, and hungry. The bed is comfortable, and the king is staring at him with sparkling black eyes.

He rolls over. Cum trickles gently down his thighs. The king holds out his hand, one of those candied fruits held between his long pale fingers.

Hob opens his mouth.

Anonymous asked:

Hiii I’m the originally war prize hob anon, lured back because I was blown away by how you and everyone else responded to the idea! Amazing work, go team.

Here’s more. (It’s so long. I’m sorry)

At first, Hob was confined to the bed chamber, a decoration, a pretty thing—and so rarely has Hob ever considered himself pretty. Pretty was for swallow-boned young men and women with smooth thighs. Pretty was not him, full bodied and furred. He has always pleased his lovers, they have found him handsome. But most have expected him to take charge and take care of them, not to—to—

Submit with spread legs and open mouth. To tempt. To eat sweet aphrodisiacs from those long, pale fingers until he’s begging to feel them for inside him. Sweet humiliation.

The king wants this. They pass long nights pounding Hob’s pride to shreds. He learns to beg under the king’s cock, his cruel mouth, and the touch of those inhuman eyes. Even sober, he only has to think of the king and his body floods with hot want. But still. Hob doesn’t understand.

“Why me?” He dared ask the first week, the king with a hand fisted in his hair, thrusting into him so deep and slow, Hob could feel it in his throat.

The king paused. A cool hand trailed down Hob’s back. Gathered the chains that pooled at his back, the ones he hadn’t yet snapped in his fervor. “I am interested.”

Hob meant to press him, even at the risk of his own peril, but the king slammed back into him and every thought vanished.

And then Hob is brought out of the bed and taken to kneel at the throne during the days too, chained to the king’s hand. At first, Hob assumes he is meant to be a symbol of the king’s power. Or a toy to warm the king’s cock when the duties of court grow dull. (Hob is both.)

But then comes a night when the king ponders battle plans for his next great war. And he turns to Hob.

“My general suggested we surge ahead and meet the enemy at their own gate. You rolled your eyes.” The king looks at Hob as if he is peeling the layers of muscle and bone away, finding the heart of him. And Hob realizes that all day, the king had noticed him listening. Not always—sometimes the king prefers to see him squirm, prefers to press the heavy gold plug into his hole and watch Hob strain for hours to keep it in, only to fail. During those hours, Hob had not heard a thing.

But when the king had allowed Hob to rest his head against his solid thigh, Hob had listened. And he had been seen doing it.

“Your enemy will expect a frontal attack. A show of strength. For you are a strong king. Respectfully, that’s a brave way to kill many of your own men.”

“Hmm.” The king says nothing else. He beckons until Hob kneels again at his side, the bowl of candied fruits, as always, sitting on the table. The king plucks one up and offers it to Hob.

“My lord,” Hob breathes. “Why do you care what I think?”

Hands brush through his hair. “Eat,” the king murmurs.

This king wants something. He waits for something. Hob cannot work out what. Yet.

He eats.

Gabe:

Assfggjkl og warprize anon!!!!!!

I am so taken with Hob’s thoughtfulness, his curiosity. His fearlessness. And I think that Dream is rapidly becoming besotted with these things too.

Hob isn't scared of him. No matter how ruthless and harsh he is, no matter which way Dream forces Hob to bend, he always springs back up with those curious eyes, wanting to know what's next. Dream suspects that he doesn't need the aphrodisiacs at all - that Hob would be willing to spread himself out in any arrangement of Dream’s choosing. But Dream is afraid of rejection, and Hob enjoys the lustful oblivion just a little bit too much to ask for a change.

Hob is clever and capable and good with his hands. When Dream comes to him wounded from some accident or skirmish, Hob knows exactly how to bind the flesh carefully but firmly. He rests his head in Dream’s lap after, like a beloved pet hound. His breathing is so soothing, Dream even manages to fall asleep. He wakes up and Hob is already between his legs, ready and waiting to be choked on the king’s cock as usual.

Dream fucks him instead, as ferocious as ever but this time with a purpose. Hob is his prize and the world ought to know about it. From now on, he'll have Hob smelling of his cum, always. He'll have him littered with bite marks and bruises. He'll keep Hob close, make sure the end of his gold leash is always within reach. He'll bring Hob to the battlefield, if he must.

A creature as magnificent as Hob must be treated as he deserves. And Dream alone can give him what he needs.

Anonymous asked:

War prize hob anon, here!!! I am loving the responses to this idea! So many amazing brilliant takes, love to see it.

The talk of whether Hob would escape or stay and be spoiled inspired me (glorious takes on both sides) so I drabbled on the subject…

It takes time. Trust. And a letter opener left unattended.

That night, Hob slides quietly as he can out of the silk sheets. He sits astride the sleeping king, his face turned toward the moon, his neck a deceptive swan’s curve. And Hob raises the blade to it.

One slice. And he is free.

It does not matter, he tells himself, that he has never been fucked so well. That the king is kind to him, relatively. He could take Hob with violence and pain or share him. Instead he feeds Hob fruits to heat his blood so that every time he plunders his body, with fingers, tongue and cock, Hob welcomes him.

Even the humiliations and hurts of his new service are given a sweet edge. The way he was spanked for misbehaving, hard and brutal, until his skin was red and tender. Followed by a hot tongue in his ass. The way he was made to kneel for hours and hold the king’s cock in his mouth. Followed by servants massaging the aches from his body and tending to his bad knee. (Yet another reason Hob is a poor choice for a prize.) In the king’s service, Hob might hurt. But he rewards him with such care…lavishes attention on him until Hob cannot come any more.

No. Hob has to do this. He must escape. He has his pride. This is just pleasure. Nothing more.

“Well?” The king’s voice interrupts his turmoil. Oh gods. He is awake. He surges up, knocking the blade from his grip. A hand clamps on his thigh, another on his wrist and he is rolled on his back, away from the blade. The chain between his wrists, once wide to allow him movement, slithers shorter until the cuffs kiss, and the collar tightens just enough to threaten his breathing. For all his battle prowess, struggling it gets him nowhere but squirming and pinned. The nightmare king settles over Hob like a dragon on top of its hoard. He stares unblinkingly down at him.

“You could not do it,” comes that deep whisper. Hob stills. “You are a well-trained solider yet for nearly five minutes you sat with a blade at my neck and did not make your move. Why?”

Hob swallows. A hot open mouthed kiss blooms just under his jaw, followed by the press of teeth. Even without the candied fruit his body sings for this man. What is happening to him?

“My pet. My prize. You must already face great consequences for this disobedience,” the king says. “I may not let you come for weeks. Answer me or it will be months.”

“I had to try. I had to—I don’t understand.” It isn’t the first time he has asked, pled, begged to know. “I’m at my wits end. Please. Why me?”

Fingers slip between them to tease at his hole and Hob resists the powerful, heady urge to submit and grind against him. For as long as he can before his resolve crumbles into lust. It will not be long. It never is.

The king gives the same maddening answer he always gives. The only one, whispered against his lips. “I am interested.”

Gabe:

Hnnnnng.

Og warprize hob anon…… i hope you know that you’ve created a beautiful monster and we’re all horny about it. i hope you also know that your words are beautiful and your prose is delightful. it’s a pleasure to read.

Oh but the turmoil Hob goes through. There’s nothing that the king can do to soothe the way his mind is twisting and turning, bouncing between loyalty to himself and some mad, misplaced loyalty to this nightmare of man. What does Hob owe Dream, really? His life? What kind of life is this?

He could set himself free. He thinks he’s almost worked it out. He could take away the one think the king seems to want. He could make himself… dull. Boring, predictable. Uninteresting.

But.

He thinks about long, thin fingers running down his spine and soothing the perpetual ache at the small of his back. Warm salve on his knee, applied at the king’s own orders. His body rigid and sweating in the night from some bad dream, suddenly embraced by cool arms. A kiss on his brow in the early morning. He’s been so greedy for those things, has coveted them and gloried in them. How can he live without them now?

Worse: what would the nightmare king do with a broken toy? Hob doesn’t want to find out.

He bounces in Dream’s lap with renewed fervor when he’s finally allowed the privilege of taking the king’s cock again. But there’s a heat behind his eyes, a kind of determination that he’d thought long dead and gone. He’ll find some way to win this game, this strange warped little battle. His own feelings be damned, Hob will not be broken. Even a king must have some chink in his armor, somewhere.

Dream raises a delicate eyebrow and almost, almost smiles. Pulls his prize closer by his golden leash.

“Interesting.”

Anonymous asked:

Hiiii warprize anon here! Glad to see people are still warprizing hob, I think it’s good for him. Truly, anons, you are doing glorious work with that AU.

I wanted to write dark obsessive dream next in all his dubcon glory next but no one cooperated? Have some less porny character introspection instead ig…

It’s amazing how little it takes for a grown man to become used to being a pet. As weeks stretch into months, Hob revels, just a little. In the lustful linger of eyes on his body. In the quirk of that cruel mouth when Hob pleases the king. The eager stirring of his cock even before he eats aphrodisiacs. Even his punishments—even the hot lash of the whip—begins to feel like sacrilegious worship. Gasping for breath, holding his thighs spread as the king buries himself in his body certainly is. In the blackest and most honest hours of the night, Hob knows the truth. He is starting to like it.

That’s the danger of the king’s service.

Hour by orgasmic hour, the king is twisting himself into Hob’s mind and body like a key carving out its own lock. He demands Hob’s submission, his pleasure and his desire for his own. But how many people had the king had in such a way? How many prizes have knelt, and learned to live at his pleasure? And where are they now? Abandoned surely, replaced. Hob is the chalice the king sips from now but he is one of dozens, maybe even hundreds. The king might have taken a prize from every battle won.

Hob is…not special.

He kneels on his cushion, waiting for the king who has stepped from the throne room, and reminds himself.

Footsteps approach and stop just behind him. Always, when the king is away, a guard is assigned to keep a close eye for Hob’s protection, though none are allowed to take his chains in their grip. Not unless Hob runs. Daring, the guard plucks at the chain between his nipples until it swings against Hob’s chest. He holds his breath.

“How’s it going?” A voice drawls. “Knees a little tired?”

Hob glances at the door for the absent king before raising his head. The guard above him smirks like he knows a joke and Hob is the punchline.

“Yes, rather,” Hob replies. “Even with the cushion.”

“His majesty seems to like that,” he muses.

Corinthian. That is his name. He’d heard the king give him orders with iron in his voice. The way one talked to a guard dog who wasn’t trusted. A creature who couldn’t be taught to fear the whip.

“You’d know better than me.” Hob meets his eye as best he can through the man’s dark glasses. He is very handsome, golden and strong. Perhaps this is the answer. Perhaps prizes who lose their luster are given other ways to serve.

Corinthian tilts his head. Hob feels his eyes trace down the marks the king left. Lurid love bites at his throat and faint fingertip bruises on his hips. “I really don’t. Suppose I’m not his type.”

“Surely you’ve seen the others then.” Hob replies. He keeps his hands folded where they’re bound at the small of his back.

“Other … prizes?” Corinthian’s grin only grows. “Sweetheart, no. You’re the first.”

Hon stares but senses no lie. “Can’t be.“

“Picking a prize always been his right but he’s never felt the need to use it until now. Until you.” The man leans closer, dangerously into his space. Hob feels him breathing, he’s so close. “I’ve heard the sounds he pulls from you at night. He must have years of pent up energy.”

Hob’s throat is dry. Something fragile, winged and stupid flutters in his chest. But before he has to think of a reply, Corinthian snaps back to a respectful distance an instant before the doors swing open, and the king sweeps in. He climbs the stairs, slinks back to claim his throne. Hob is still reeling when his cool hand finds his chin and tilts his head up.

“You did not move,” the king says. It is not a question but an expectation.

Hob shakes his head. For a long moment his eyes glitter down on him, simply watching. Then fingers card through his hair and he is guided to rest his head against his king’s knee.

Gabe:

Lying face down on the floor after reading this tbh. Like. What can I say? What can I add?

Knowing that he's the only one is a further kind of beautiful torture for Hob, because once again he's asking himself over and over again: why? Why him, above anyone else? There's a part of him in agony over his imprisonment, the curtailing of his freedoms, the fact that his mind and body are no longer his own. Then there's the part of him who wants to know why, so he can be good. He needs to know how he can keep the favour that he has miraculously obtained.

And Dream? He never gives answers. If Hob even dared to ask more than a small, sobbed "why me?" in the midst of some blissful torture, Dream wouldn't bother to answer. Hob thinks that the king likes him kept ignorant and confused. It's another way to keep him in line. He's always dancing on a knife's edge, wondering whether the king will eventually toss him aside - never knowing if he's truly safe.

So he'd better be as good as he can. Never give Dream a reason to throw him away. But he will slip up eventually - its only a matter of time...

Anonymous asked:

As requested, here’s some warprize!hob being punished by dark!dream for bad behavior. Also… thanks panickingstudent2’s last ask for some very specific inspo!

The king chains him up by his wrists. No gold cuffs with velvet interiors here. Not for this. This is punishment, work fit for dungeons, cold and deep as his king’s displeasure. Hob is already delirious from too much candied fruit. The cage has been cruelly clenched around his hot, aching cock for days now but he needs to be fucked, he needs it, he needs it.

“Mercy,” he begs but it won’t do him any good. He’s been begging for days, his cock and balls hot and aching.

Fury is divine on the nightmare king’s face. Other kings would simply kill him. Leave his body for the ravens. But Hob’s king will not let him go.

“I would have you obey me,” the king says. Fingers brush against his hole and don’t even push in where Hob yearns for them despite himself. He cants his hips back weakly, but the fingers go away. “But if I must bring you low again and again, I will. And I will enjoy it every time.”

He steps back. And the whip snaps through the air and white-hot fire flashes across Hob’s back.

Wet agony blooms across his shoulders and bloodred welts.

“You know why I must do this,” the king says. “You know why it is my pleasure to do this.”

The whip lashes again and again, fire licking across his skin. It doesn’t stop when Hob screams. Or when he sobs. When it’s done, his entire back glows like an ember. The king faces him, eyes black holes in his pale, sharp face. He places a cool hand on Hob’s back and he presses into the soothing touch, whining like a newborn babe.

“Please, I’m sorry, please, pleasepleaseplase,” he breathes. The king twists him around until the cuffs pull tight. He drags the plug from his hole, and finally buries himself to the hilt in his ass. Hob wails. Hands tangle in his chest hair and pull him flush against his king, as he plunges in and out at a ruinous pace. Being finally filled is sweeter relief than when the whip stopped.

“Say you are mine,” the king says. Once he was quiet, and constrained whenever he touched Hob and this is why—the need in his voice is barely bridled. Hob is not the only desperate one. “Say it.” The king bites, sudden and sharp at Hob’s earlobe.

“I’m yours—Morpheus!” His head snaps back as his body thunders through a cruel, dry orgasm. He doesn’t hear the king’s soft gasp against his ear, or register the name he’s cried. He’s in pain, from his cock to his shoulders—yet Hob floats. Perhaps he could fly.

Love, Warprize Anon

Gabe:

Hnnnggg. I am. Deeply obsessed with this. I love it when you drop these beautiful snippets for us!!! Hob calling the king by his name in the middle of a punishment/orgasm? Talk about a mind-fuck. Poor thing, he's truly terrified.

But it isn't just fear, is it? It would be so much simpler if he could say that he's scared and be done with it. So much easier to handle that emotion. What he feels is more that fear. He's grown attached to the king, longs for him when they're apart and fears him when they're together. When he tries to imagine a life away from his capture, he can't even manage it anymore. It's impossible to see beyond the king, who looms so large in Hob’s thoughts all the time. He's obsessed, addicted, terrified, longing to be taken and horrified by the idea all the same.

All he knows is that his king has power over him that he will probably never comprehend. Perhaps its time to surrender and acknowledge that he's lost. He no longer belongs to himself. He belongs to Morpheus.

-Love Yan Anon <3

Aww, hey Yan Anon!!! It's nice to hear from you. And thank you for highlighting OG Warprize Anon and their incredible work (you're a trooper for scrolling through and copy/pasting everything, seriously). Warprize au has definitely been a big hit, as it rightly should be, and it's great to look back on how it all started. Hopefully OG Warprize Anon is out there doing great and knowing that they inspired many, many people.

Hopefully we'll see more content for the Dark Dream enjoyers out there. I certainly lean towards a mean toppy Dream myself, although I'm not immune to Obliterating That Twink either. There's room for everyone in the fandom - and don't forget to leave comments for your favourite authors as Yan Anon has here. It's a great way to encourage your faves to write more of the stuff that you love!

[korinthiakos]

A dry laugh escapes him. "Exceptional?" Another dry laugh bubbles up from their throat, all mouths open as laughter escaped in perfect unison; like a small taunting choir. "You are no exception. I see you and I see what you are; you are flesh and blood and power. You are not the first nor the last. There are no exceptions." The Corinthian spoke, laughter dying on their tongues - teeth grinding. "I am remembered in ways more than one." Their predecessor certainly made something for themselves. A serial killer with a signature to be remembered by people who feared them and who wanted to be them. ( Though most of that was rarely remembered. Corinthian can't even begin to fathom what happened. )

A puppet? They could step forward and-- No. The Corinthian cannot. It is punishable to hurt those that they serve in a way. Corinthian couldn't hurt him. But the thought happened to be echoing in their mind like a morbid mantra.

Yet they do dare to get closer. "You're only saying that because you think your low blow words could dare strike me. You know what I see before me?" The Corinthian stares at him. "The essence of evil. You are like a treasure cove for all dark desires. You sink further and further every second." They sneer a little. However, Corinthian cannot help but feel somewhat enraptured by such darkness like Michael. They kind of want to bite him - eat him - devour him. Eat his eyes.

Their hand reaches out, fingers trailing over Michael's neck. They could seize it and squeeze it if they wanted too. But it was something that they shouldn't do. "..."

Now he wishes he could look into his captive's head, see what more ideas that sadistic creature jumbles in there. Michael's shit-eating grin wanes the moment he finds his endeavor to tempt Corinthian negated, buried under perspectival facts. If you'd consider them that. " They might remember a phantom of the effect meeting you had on them, sure ", follows a sigh framed by the subtle frown Michael fails to suppress. " Do they remember your face, though? Your name? You? " He strains to revive the smile he's abandoned seconds prior, eyes cast downward for the span between two blinks. " Me clearly remembering you doesn't count. I'm exceptional. " Speaking of vanity, right?

Doesn't mean Corinthian hadn't dug some cracks into Michael's confidence during few of the many nightmares. However, the suspense created with that oh-so-accidental gap scraped into the barrier weighs heavy until the captive notices. Their comment suffices to widen Michael's faded smile yet again. " Do you want to know what I see? " A pause trails after drawled words and no, he doesn't wait for an answer to that. " A puppet. An awful lot of wasted potential. " He could as well just have demanded the Corinthian to come at him with all primal rage stuffed into that handsome shell. But why not provoke creatively? At least, Michael doesn't run away— why should he —merely proceeds to saunter deeper into the room. As if he didn't just subject himself to mortal danger.

@korinthsobs (since bitches terminated your og blogue)

[korinthiakos]

ONE-LINER STARTER CALL. ( ACCEPTING !! )

"You shouldn't be here. Don't you have things to do? An entire collective consciousness to deal with?"

@thelordofthedreaming

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

(If you don't mind adding something from yourself)

*In atlas*

Ruby: Jaune, all i wanted to say is that, i'm proud of you.

Jaune: ...wow.... thanks Rubes it means a lot to me but what is the occasion for you yo say that?

Ruby: Occasion is that i saw how much you improved. Long gone are bags under your eyes from sleepleess nights, training into exhaustion and borderline suicidal tendencies like at haven. You move on, you grew and i'm proud of you

Jaune: ......i don't know that to say, truly, just like i don't know how to react to knowledge that you look over me all this time. Is there is anything i can do for you to repay you?

Ruby: *sheeplish* Well, you could always tell me how you managed to do it? You got hit pretty hard, yet you sill managed to bounce back better than most.

Jaune: OOOHHH, that's simple Rubes. During my time at haven Ren told be “suppressing all these negative emotions is bad for your health” and "i need to find my way to counter them" SOOOO i started to suppress positive emotions as well and they usually cancel each other out.

Ruby: You built who you are and your demeanor around a desire to not lose rather than a desire to win. Like it's not all good down there. Is it?

Jaune: I mean...

Ruby: Who you are as a man, a hunter, a member of society- you're brutal towards yourself. You've had a harder life than anyone and you're still here struggling.

Jaune: Because of you. You're the one who put me back together in Anima. Ask me to kill for you. Ask me to die for you. I would hound your enemies to the ends of this world.

Ruby: Stay with me. Hold me.

Jaune: *Embraces her.*

Ruby: It's hard what you've done for me. You changed so much and you did it with me in your heart. You know it bothered me how much like Pyrrha I was.

Jaune: I thought...

Ruby: I mean there are differences for sure but in ways that really matter we're alike. Things are different now Jaune.

Jaune: Yeah. They are.

Ruby: And maybe if I pulled you by the right thread you'd come undone. It's like Jenga. Where's the wobbly piece all this is built on? You know it's there even if you can't see it. I think that's just people in general though.

Jaune: *cups her cheek and makes her look at him* Ruby I... I don't know how to get better. I've done stuff I'm not proud of. You've been my moral compass in a lot of ways. I rely on you. I don't really have dreams of my own. I'm too... Too small in a lot of ways. So I'll borrow yours if you'll let me.

Ruby: Kiss me.

Jaune: What?

Ruby: Kiss me please.

[korinthiakos]

starter call ( accepting ) | @therelentless

"I was there in the dark when you spilled your first blood." The nightmare says with a smile, and not an innocent one either.

[korinthiakos]

"You never know, I met some people who tasted absolutely wonderful."

" I don't think I would taste very nice though... "

[korinthiakos]

starter call ( accepting ) | @peacereflected ( karma )

"Karma, right? Now, I'd ask what you're doing here, but I bet Destiny has a good grasp of where their creation is. Though, I rarely ever meet a different creation from a different Endless."

[korinthiakos]

starter call ( accepting !! ) | @langdhon

It's a nightmare's duty to control the narrative of someone's dream, and the nightmare strolled in. Shoulders relaxed. A cigarette between their lips. The Corinthian soon blows out smoke—— it unravelled unnaturally, forming images in the air. The smoke warped into teeth that hovered just in front of their sunglasses until fading away. "What do we have here..." The Corinthian murmurs, looking at the Dreamer in front of them. "My, you looked like an already fucked up individual, Michael."

[korinthiakos]

starter call ( accepting ) | @peacereflected ( hope )

“Well, I had hope you wouldn't be here, but then again, I'm merely just sayin' that for the sake of the pun. I hope you're not here for the sake of your sibling.”

[korinthiakos]

"Clearly, you went for something bigger than just big. You're going to split someone open with that thing."

{ OPEN.

"What’s wrong with having a big dick? I thought everyone liked that shit? now all of a sudden is a problem? fucking guys.”

[overshelter]

A very simple explanation of why SV, The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System, doesn't contain Noncon or any of that shit

WARNING: It's full of SPOILERS, so CAUTION!

I decided to come and waste my time making this thread/post because I've seen a lot of discussions about it. I'm even doing it in English and not in my official language for the simple reason that I've seen more foreigners talking about it than Brazilians.

Well, let's start by making something clear. SV is a BIG, HUGE, SCANDALOUS satire on novels with harem in which EVERYTHING can be solved with SEX.

Did we get that point? Good.

Moving on.

SV, for having this as a central point, often brings criticism and scenes that prove it. I could easily take several, but at the moment I only have the novel in Portuguese with me, and I'm not going to go after the English version just for a thread/post. So you can go and get it for me if you think I'm talking shit. We'll discuss it if necessary.

Back to the point... These parts are scattered throughout the reading and are easily found if you just pay the slightest bit of attention.

Now, you might be asking yourself: "Why the fuck is this crazy woman bringing up all this talk?"

Context, my dear. Context.

Context to talk about the problem I've been seeing: the issue of noncon, lack of consent and 500 other issues.

It's been said that Shen Qingqiu says no and asks Binghe to stop at various points in the novel. And, indeed, he does.

Only he does it at moments that don't involve ANY, I REPEAT, ANY SEXUAL RELATIONSHIP! In fact, if you go back and read it again, and if I'm not remembering wrongly, in their first kiss, he pushes Binghe away and Binghe himself doesn't insist, he just complains a bit, saying that it was unfair that he couldn't do something like that even in a dream. In other words, he basically RESPECTED and didn't FORCE Shen!

Another part to comment on is that, most of the times when Shen scolds or pushes Binghe away, these are times when they are fighting like two primary school children. Their actions, words and everything else carry an incredible childishness.

That scene of them fighting in the demon realm shortly after Binghe finds out that Shen is alive is one of them. (bonus: in it we also have the narrative of Shen UNILATERALLY hitting Binghe, and at NO point does he hit back. He just threatens, trying to scare, but always without actually doing anything.)

The second kiss I honestly don't remember very well when it happened, but I do know that Shen didn't say no or even push Binghe away completely. I vaguely remember him scolding a little, but not explicitly denying it. Which, in my opinion, shows that he himself was perhaps confused by this possible new dynamic in their relationship and was a little afraid of how such uncertain feelings could end up affecting them both.

Now let's move on to the central point: Maigu Mountain.

My novelistic trauma and also SV's most suffocating chapters, where you see just how human, broken and entirely unstable Binghe is. Both thanks to his own mind and Xin Mo's corruption.

The whole Maigu Mountain scene is made to be uncomfortable. It's not supposed to be something nice, something memorable or even enjoyable, whether for Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu or anyone reading.

This scene is the pinnacle of satire and criticism, making it clear how unrealistic it is to expect sex to magically solve all problems. But the important thing here is the fact that Shen Qingqiu KNEW what was going to happen and was WILLING to go through it. Only because he BELIEVED it would work and also because the system pushed the whole situation in that direction.

And please don't even bring Luo Binghe into this discussion. He is one of the biggest victims in this scene. He has NO conscience whatsoever and is completely screwed up and lost in Xin Mo's corruption, even going so far as to ask Shen why he didn't kill him, drive him away or something. In fact, he was completely willing to die, both because of this and because he thought Shen would sacrifice himself for him again.

Apart from that, we also have an extra where the author brings back The Resentments of Spring Mountain and the fanfiction made by the three sisters, making BingQiu read it and bringing us a scene where Luo Binghe himself and Shen Qingqiu themselves read it and say that it's TOTALLY OOC and impossible for Luo Binghe to force Shen Qingqiu to have sex with him. Luo Binghe even makes it clear that he would walk away or kill himself at any sign of discomfort or denial that Shen Qingqiu showed, in whatever form it came.

So, in short... NO NONCON IN SV, RAPE OR ANY OF THAT SHIT! LUO BINGHE IS A CHUNNY WITH TRAUMA AND A BEAUTIFUL CRYING LADY! NOTHING BUT THAT!

I believe we're clear? (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

[korinthiakos]

starter call ( accepting ) | @peacereflected ( dream )

“My mind refuses to forget everything that I have seen or felt,” The Corinthian began, teeth bare, stepping over to them. “You forget and I will remember every little second.” Of every little word – every little praise, whispered, the Corinthian muses to himself in spite. Every touch and every kiss. Of an early romance that was inevitably doomed from the start. “Bringing you out to that renaissance fair just made me think of all those times.”