dumscribospero

[dumscribospero]

i have half a mind to write about george being detained by ice for reasons *mumble mumble* no passport because he sent it to uk for renewal *mumble mumble* visa expired

i can see the drama, the hurt/comfort, mental and physical distress bordering on torture. i can see gnf scared out of his mind and dream losing it...

but also i don't want to go anywhere near immigration law or researching anything visa adjacent for the us.

[dumscribospero]

i started to write a george backstory and got kinda unhappy with it so i kinda forgot about this... how not surprising but i'm gonna post it because it's kinda funny how i wrote that fic, you can see it right here, kinda. i started with tags on a post that i put in my writing doc. cleaned all the hashtag to have sorta sentences. then used those wonky sentences to make proper ones. the doc is under the name prison!dream excommunicated!prince!george but will still go under feral!dream here just because

George had roamed the countryside for months, hiding himself in the wilderness as much as he could. He was forced to flee from his home when someone tried to kill the Royal Family. As Prince and not yet named but de facto Heir to the Throne, he always had been in danger but never before had he come so close to dying. Pandemonium had hit when, one day, skilled assassins came after the King and his family while they were walking in the gardens. The Royal Guards, surprised, got slaughtered. Knights of the Realm ran to protect the King and a vicious and bloody fight started. In the chaos, the Prince got separated and confused, he ran to the knights quarters. He was afraid and the only thing in his mind was getting to safety. And he trusted one person above all to keep him safe, one knight had his total faith.

Dream.

Dream would protect him from anything and everything. George was sure of it, he had promised. The knight, while young, had accomplished many feats and achievement for the Realm. He had been promoted to Knight of the Realm, one of the highest rank, not so long ago and George had been befriending him of sort. It was difficult for the Prince to really be friends with a Knight but Dream being close in age with him had made their interactions, when alone, easier. George would be able to make the Knight smile and laugh and lose enough to have fun conversations. Dream would tell tales of his past adventures and George was captivated. That’s the reason why, when faced with danger, George ran as fast as he could where the knight was supposed to be. But he never made it. On the way, he collided with another Knight of the Realm. He didn’t know him enough to be able to remember his name. But he didn’t need too to feel the slightest bit safer. Recognizing him, the knight didn’t let George go. Grasping him tightly, the Knight of the Realm lead him away from the Castle at a fast pace. George didn’t want to go, not without Dream and he didn’t want to leave his family behind. But the knight didn’t gave him a choice. Giving him a bag with a change of clothes and some supplies, the Knight lead him to a ship and enrolled him on it. The ship took him to another city where he found himself alone, without anything nor anyone to help him and no idea on what to do.

Shellshocked, George spent the first few days wandering the streets like a lost soul. Weeks passed before he got back from his fugue state. In luck, an old couple took him under their wings. They could see the young man was struggling and decided to help him. He got a bed and a meal, in exchange, he’d help them with their accounting. They’d recently had problems with their financial records, and few would be knowledgeable to be able to help them for so meager a price. On the street, the rumour mills started to talk about the attack on the Castle, how the Royal Family had nearly died, the King grievously wounded. The Queen had called her brother-in-law and Spare to the Throne for help. Nothing about the disappearance of the Prince had been reported. But hearsay was, George’s Uncle had proclaim himself Regent as soon as he got near the throne and neither the Queen nor the King had been seen or heard of since.

Afraid for his life, George kept to himself as much as possible. He kept hoping for a knight to come find him, for Dream to rescue him and bring him back to the Castle. But no one came.

George left Port Town after a few months. The old couple didn’t have need of him anymore and he was starting to get anxious. So George left to travel the countryside. The old couple gave him a sturdy travel cloak and a bag full of supply.

hears rumors about a stranger hiding behind a mask and under a hood. Someone no one has ever seen the face of, he might not even be fully human. Someone willing to take on the most arduous tasks, never refusing to help. He has been traveling alone for a long time now, keeping himself out of sight as much as possible. His face is not well known to the common folk, but he still his a Prince, Heir to the Throne.

George got a persistent, annoying problem he wants to go home and see his family again but can't so he goes to find the stranger

george tracks him down not easily but dreams being in flight mode. out of his logical brain makes him sloppy

when he stops to his lair george finds himand doesn't really realized who he is facing

it looks like some kind of wildling with his untamed hair. growl like a cornered wolf flashing teeth. his face extra scary being disfigured

he ends up taming him and when he gets a good look at him he finally recognize dream

he's horrified because he thought dream was still at the castle with his family. he wants to know what the fuck happened

but dream still can't really talk much. especially about what happened to him so it's a long process of healing

and learning to trust each other again. learning each other like they did back then. even better

#and they fall in love

last updated: 22/12/24

so i wrote and posted this on my main half asleep og art @wolflyndraws here

he's got so many physical after effects with scars and skin damages but also mental: he's wild and completely feral. he lose himself, living outdoors. he hasn't had any contact with living, breathing being in a long, long time. even animals avoid him, leaving as soon as they see him. seeing him would scare anyone shitless, especially at first when the scars hasn't yet started to heal and the cuts on his face are gruesome and bloody. his body is one massive wound, it never stops hurting, driving him to madness. after a while, he slowly start to get better. his body starts to heal. his mind is still fissured but he gets more and more time as his old self. not totally back to himself, far from it, but he get more cognisant of what's happening around him and what he's doing. there's a point where he has to go back to a village to trade stuff. he doesn't trust anything not to hurt him and dislike the idea of letting anyone get close to him. needs must though, and after weighting up the pros and the cons, he goes to one nearby. he's not careful the first time around and the few people that saw his face expressed shock and disgust. they could not look at him without horror in their eyes and repugnance etched on their face. he honestly didn't think about what he would look like to others. he's been alone for so long at that point, and he avoid every reflective surface he has genuinely no idea what the torture left behind. but even without knowing, seeing other people reaction he can guess. ashamed, he runs away. but he can't stay hidden away forever, he still needs to trade. so he goes back, to another village. further away. clocked under a heavy, deep hooded, capelet. he's got no skin showing at all. and this time, interactions are easier. his voice is gruff, his vocal cords damaged. he hasn't spoken for a long time and the first few words he needs to utter are rough. he doesn't stay for long. he can't. so he makes the trips more often than he'd like too, just so he can spend as little time in here as he can at once. longer interactions makes him hyper aware and he nearly slip from the precarious balance that's his mental health. words goes around that one weird adventurer comes by, sometimes. taciturn and withdrawn, and in need of lots of personal space. and it attracts curiosity. everyone is eager to know who he is, where he's from and what he looks like. but Dream can't answer neither of those questions without people turning on him.

[dumscribospero]

bunnies! bunnies everywhere! _______________________________ accidental sexting George can't sleep and feels a bit horny. alone in his london apartment, he send a snapchat to his boyfriend. his naked ass, while he's rubbing his dick in the mattress with the caption "thinking about u"

he actually sent it to dream. _______________________________ dnf !ruined for anyone else dream finally get george in his bed. not in a relationship just fwb type of thing?they both like it a bit rough. dream is possessive af and kind of jealous of george previous relationship. he's a dirty talker. want to ruin george for everyone. wants him to only think about dream when he's masturbating. wants everyone else to pale in comparison of his big dick. knows gnf like their size difference as much as him. gnf is a size queen and will be comparing every dick to dream's after that.

[dumscribospero]

also inspo

You guys are eating well tonigth cause i’m backing up my old files and finding art i didnt post haha

Here’s my first design refs? For unicorn george!

[dumscribospero]

dream is a cheating arsehole, this was 2 different plot that i got ideas independently from each other (and forgetting about this other one promptly after) but seeing them next to each other i realise it could be the same story somehow... _______________________________ on george:

at least, that's what it feels like to him. he knows he's not, not really. can you be cheating on someone you're not with but wish you were? cheating with someone you're not even having sex with? his life is a mess. he is in love with his best friend, he knows it, the entire internet knows, hell sometimes he thinks his best friend knows and hasn't said anything out of pity. to protect the few piece of pride he has left.

_______________________________ on gf dream having a gf but she feels like she's being used only for sex because all the emotional part belong to George she somehow feels like the other woman he's cheating with instead of being a proper girlfriend. esp because they are not public and can't really talk about their relationship w/o ppl being unhinged. she has to see dream post cutesie pics w/ his best friend, instead of with her. has to see him giving doe eyes in videos they're together. hearing him talk to and about his best friend with a voice so found it gives her pain in her stomach from the jealousy

[dumscribospero]

went back to it here same story but kinda polished because i wasn't happy with what i had done.

Dream escapes prison. After so many months begging for release, be it from being set free or death, finally, he slips out. He doesn’t really know how, he thinks someone might have helped but he doesn’t really know. He's got so many physical after effects with scars and skin damages there’s no way he’d have made it out on his own. But he’s also mentally unstable, he's wild and completely feral. He’s outside at long last. He can feel the breeze ruffling his hair, the sun warmth on his skin but he can’t enjoy any of it properly. His brain is locked in surviving mode. The only thing in his mind are food and shelter. So he hides and lick his wounds, alone. His body is one massive wound, it never stops hurting, driving him to madness. The cuts on his face are gruesome and bloody, chunked of skin missing. The skin on his neck, rubbed so raw by the collar he can’t take off, is swollen and drops of blood sometimes ooze out of it, crusting between the iron and his skin. His shoulders and upper arms have lacerations marks splattered all over it and his legs have bad burns, some parts looking charred and blistered.

Seeing him would scare anyone shitless, even animals avoid him, leaving as soon as they see him. They can smell the sickly, rotten, stench coming from him, the smell of death and decay emanating through his pore.

After a while, he slowly starts to get better, body healing at a glacial pace. His mind is still cracked but he gets more and more time being aware of himself. He’s not back to his old self, far from it, and probably never will be. But he get more cognisant of what's happening around him and what he's doing, no more stuck in a perpetual state of mindless beast.

There's a point where he has to go back to a village to trade stuff. Winter is approaching and he’ll need warmer clothing. He also have needs of tools he can’t make by himself. His hands haven’t healed properly and his fingers have lost their dexterity. Anything more than holding things is hard. However he hasn't had any contact with living, breathing being in a long, long time. The last of his prison days he had been left alone to suffer and since then can’t recall of even catching a glimpse of a human being. Needs must though, and after weighting up the pros and the cons, he goes to one nearby.

He's not careful the first time around and the few people that saw his face expressed shock and disgust, pointing at him and screaming. They could not look at him without horror in their eyes and repugnance etched on their face. He honestly didn't think about what he would look like to others. He's been alone for so long at that point, and he avoid every reflective surface he has genuinely no idea what the torture left behind. But even without knowing, seeing other people reaction he can guess.

Ashamed, he runs away.

Yet, the reasons for going back to civilization still stand and he can't stay hidden away forever. He still needs to trade. So he goes back, in the middle of the night, hidden under the darkness of a night without moon. He steals cloth, forgotten on a chair outside and a round piece of white wood before leaving in a hurry. Back to his lair, a barely hidden hole in the side of a cliff, he uses the wood to craft a mask. The next day, he travel to another village. Further away. He doesn’t want to get remembered as the fleeing monster from the first time, and he doesn’t want people identify the mask as the stolen wood or the cape as the things that got stolen the night before. It takes him a good part of the day to travel there but he makes it before the sun gets too low in the sky. Face hidden behind a mask and body clocked under a heavy, deep hooded, capelet, he's got no skin showing at all. And this time, interactions are easier. His voice is gruff, his vocal cords damaged. he hasn't spoken for a long time and the first few words he needs to utter are rough.

He doesn't stay for long. He can't.

He doesn't trust anything not to hurt him and dislike the idea of letting anyone get close to him. So he makes the trips more often than he'd like too, just so he can spend as little time in here as he can at once. Longer interactions makes him hyper aware and he nearly slip from the precarious balance that's his mental health. A couple of time he found himself baring his teeth, luckily hidden being the mask, and stopping himself from snarling as someone came a little too close for comfort.

Still, words goes around that one weird adventurer comes by, sometimes. Taciturn and withdrawn, and in need of lots of personal space. A stranger ready to kill mobs, with the skill and efficiency to do it quickly and without much wrecks left behind. He gets known as the person to go to if you've got a pest problem.

It attracts curiosity. Everyone is eager to know who he is, where he's from and what he looks like. but Dream can't answer neither of those questions. So he keeps coming back around because he likes being useful and helping people. It sated a deep part inside him he had forgotten about. Until one day, someone comes to him for help. Someone he knows, or at least, thought he knew. He freaks out. He turns around. He flees. Through the woods, he runs like hell. Runs like the devil is after him. Runs like he wanted to when he was stuck in prison, but couldn’t. He doesn’t try to be discreet. He can’t, his brain is in flight mode. Every instinct screams at him to hide, to get to safety. Facing that one man is the one thing he can’t do. Once he get to his little den, he tucks himself in the corner the farthest from the entrance and try to hide himself. He curl up in a ball, face down smashing his mask against his forearms. Whimpers escape him unintentional and uncontrolled. His mind shatters, back to mindless beast.

so i wrote and posted this on my main half asleep og art @wolflyndraws here

he's got so many physical after effects with scars and skin damages but also mental: he's wild and completely feral. he lose himself, living outdoors. he hasn't had any contact with living, breathing being in a long, long time. even animals avoid him, leaving as soon as they see him. seeing him would scare anyone shitless, especially at first when the scars hasn't yet started to heal and the cuts on his face are gruesome and bloody. his body is one massive wound, it never stops hurting, driving him to madness. after a while, he slowly start to get better. his body starts to heal. his mind is still fissured but he gets more and more time as his old self. not totally back to himself, far from it, but he get more cognisant of what's happening around him and what he's doing. there's a point where he has to go back to a village to trade stuff. he doesn't trust anything not to hurt him and dislike the idea of letting anyone get close to him. needs must though, and after weighting up the pros and the cons, he goes to one nearby. he's not careful the first time around and the few people that saw his face expressed shock and disgust. they could not look at him without horror in their eyes and repugnance etched on their face. he honestly didn't think about what he would look like to others. he's been alone for so long at that point, and he avoid every reflective surface he has genuinely no idea what the torture left behind. but even without knowing, seeing other people reaction he can guess. ashamed, he runs away. but he can't stay hidden away forever, he still needs to trade. so he goes back, to another village. further away. clocked under a heavy, deep hooded, capelet. he's got no skin showing at all. and this time, interactions are easier. his voice is gruff, his vocal cords damaged. he hasn't spoken for a long time and the first few words he needs to utter are rough. he doesn't stay for long. he can't. so he makes the trips more often than he'd like too, just so he can spend as little time in here as he can at once. longer interactions makes him hyper aware and he nearly slip from the precarious balance that's his mental health. words goes around that one weird adventurer comes by, sometimes. taciturn and withdrawn, and in need of lots of personal space. and it attracts curiosity. everyone is eager to know who he is, where he's from and what he looks like. but Dream can't answer neither of those questions without people turning on him.

[dumscribospero]

the issue with writing for yourself is that you will get sucked into rereading your own fic over and over and pretend it’s “editing,” but really you’re just reading because it’s exactly what you want to read. because you wrote it. for you.

[dumscribospero]

so i wrote and posted this on my main half asleep og art @wolflyndraws here

he's got so many physical after effects with scars and skin damages but also mental: he's wild and completely feral. he lose himself, living outdoors. he hasn't had any contact with living, breathing being in a long, long time. even animals avoid him, leaving as soon as they see him. seeing him would scare anyone shitless, especially at first when the scars hasn't yet started to heal and the cuts on his face are gruesome and bloody. his body is one massive wound, it never stops hurting, driving him to madness. after a while, he slowly start to get better. his body starts to heal. his mind is still fissured but he gets more and more time as his old self. not totally back to himself, far from it, but he get more cognisant of what's happening around him and what he's doing. there's a point where he has to go back to a village to trade stuff. he doesn't trust anything not to hurt him and dislike the idea of letting anyone get close to him. needs must though, and after weighting up the pros and the cons, he goes to one nearby. he's not careful the first time around and the few people that saw his face expressed shock and disgust. they could not look at him without horror in their eyes and repugnance etched on their face. he honestly didn't think about what he would look like to others. he's been alone for so long at that point, and he avoid every reflective surface he has genuinely no idea what the torture left behind. but even without knowing, seeing other people reaction he can guess. ashamed, he runs away. but he can't stay hidden away forever, he still needs to trade. so he goes back, to another village. further away. clocked under a heavy, deep hooded, capelet. he's got no skin showing at all. and this time, interactions are easier. his voice is gruff, his vocal cords damaged. he hasn't spoken for a long time and the first few words he needs to utter are rough. he doesn't stay for long. he can't. so he makes the trips more often than he'd like too, just so he can spend as little time in here as he can at once. longer interactions makes him hyper aware and he nearly slip from the precarious balance that's his mental health. words goes around that one weird adventurer comes by, sometimes. taciturn and withdrawn, and in need of lots of personal space. and it attracts curiosity. everyone is eager to know who he is, where he's from and what he looks like. but Dream can't answer neither of those questions without people turning on him.

[dumscribospero]

HOW OMINIS SOLVES MY PROBLEM WITH THE GAUNT FAMILY : (and fucks with the timeline)

Ominis (Ellis) is the 7th child of the House of Gaunt, under Marvolo Gaunt Senior,33, and Salome Gaunt,32, née Flint.

Cyrus Gaunt, grandfather, patriarch, (Salazar Slytherin :: parselcraft. legillimency. dark arts. charms. IRISH Cadmus Peverell :: 2d bro, arrogant. resurrection stone. suicide. conjuration// magical manufacturer married to Medea Sayre, from a cadet branch of the Sayre family (many times removed from Morrigan and branching off way before Isolt Sayre, founder of Ilvermony) (Morrigan Sayre :: transfiguration. animagus (crow). potion IRISH) Salome was a dark witch, obsessed with bringing power to the Family through any means necessary. She practised heavily the dark arts, in a family coven where the leader told her the 7th of her child would bring power and longevity to her bloodline. With that in mind, she conceived every child with mindless devotion. When she had difficulties to get pregnant for the last, she convinced her husband to do it in a dark ritual. She died during childbirth, the dark magic eating her completely. When she passed, Marvolo junior, (Vitellius) the eldest of her children was 12 and at Hogwarts, Bertram (Oswald) just starting too at 11 yo. Amarantha, (Verna) the oldest daughter was just shy of her 9th birthday, Cassius 7,(Fergus) Reuben 6 (Gilbert) and Elda 4 (Lucrezia). All of them were raised in Gaunt Castle with their paternal grandparents, Cyrus & Medea. Of their two aunts, Noctua, was actually the same age as Marvolo jnr and at Hogwarts too while Semele, the oldest was 19 and barely out of Hogwarts. She was betrothed to the youngest Yaxley, Mercurius . The children were all instructed in the dark arts by their mother, aunt and grandmother, and in parselcraft by their grandfather. Their father had very little to do with them, barely interested in having children himself. He wouldn’t have had any at all if not for the House Patriarch, Cyrus, having no other male child and his wife insistence to have seven. The Gaunt Family was an Old and Noble House well versed in dark magic and parselfcraft, but Marvolo snr had no ambitions nor thirst for knowledge. He coast at best at Hogwarts, barely got any NEWT and had never been invited in any conclave because of it. He didn’t even work, wasting his day away by drinking and terrorizing muggles when he went out. His mother had to go through the coven she was part of to find a bright witch, willing to settle down with a disappointing husband with the promise of being inducted in parselcraft. The family followed the Old Religion, rejecting the new muggle variant of Halloween, Christmas and so on…

They often had celebration for Samhain, instead of Halloween. Bonfire were held in magical community and magical families took from the fire to bring home where all light were extinguished and relit with the fire from the bonfire. Children often did their first rituals during samhain to pay respect to the Family and their ancestors.

Next was Yule, or Christmas, for the winter solstice, sacrifice and offering.

After came Imbolc (chandeleur bb) on the February 1st. Fertility and sex rituals were often done at this time.

Ostara, p��ques for spring equinox. Offering and sacrifice. Beltane, the night of the last day of april and the 1st of may where bonfire where held and rituals of protection were done.

Lithan, summer solstice. Offering and sacrifices, 21 juin.

Lughnasa 1st of August, rituals.

Mabon, autumn equinox, sacrifice and offering . Born 1st November, at Samhain, (conceived in sex ritual during imbolc) Ominis was born blind. It wasn’t a surprise as the parents had used a dark ritual to conceive and those were known to take a heavy price from the child born out of it. But where most wizard would have been disappointed, and Marvolo Snr sure was, Cyrus knew better. That child was imbued in dark magic from birth and would master it that much easier. Especially with a birth on Samhain, strongest day for dark magic and with his mother dying during birth as an offering. If parselmagic settled in the child, it would be no problem to survive and thrive. Ominis was a bright, brilliant child. He got his first vision at 5 years old. While he was eating with the family during the Yule break, the family was planning the marriage of their oldest son Marvolo Junior to the eldest daughter, Amarantha. Marvolo jnr seemed to have taken after his father in laziness and non ambitions, willing to cruise on family wealth and being a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. The daughter, one of the brightest witch in her year would hopefully be able to continue and lead the Family. During the conversation, which Amarantha wasn’t really happy about, Ominis suddenly went still, his unseeing eyes opened wide and his usually milky blue colour turned the colour of a starry night. Noctua who was the one talking to him, called to her mother. "Mother? Mother, look. Ominis is being weird."

"Weirder than usual?" Reuben snickered in his hand. Medea turned to them and one look at Ominis, went pale. "Oh, dear." She got up, spelled Ominis with a mobilicorpus and left with him. She got him to his room, lying him on his bed and waited with baited breath. Before long, he started to shake and cry, having come back from his prophetic trance. Medea took her in her arms.

"Shh, my darling. It’s gonna be alright." "G… g… grandm-a!" sobbed Ominis. "Shhh, it’s going to be alright, dear. Tell Grandmother what you saw, we���ll make it alright." "F… Father. He… he... he is going to kill us all…" hiccuped Ominis. "What do you mean darling?" And Ominis had to explain how his own father, bending the knee to a Dark Lord in a quest to kill all muggles, would have nearly all his children killed in a war. In absolute horror, Medea called for a house elf and ask them for a sleeping potion. Dosing her grandchild so he’d sleep without dreams so he’d have some rest, she left him and went back to the dining table. It had taken a good 20 minutes but no one had moved away, under Cyrus order to finish their meal. Medea sat back and announced. "Ominis had a vision. Lady magic blessed him with a warning for our Family. None of you will pester him to know what it is about. But let is be known that the House of Gaunt will take that warning to heart and not have any allegiance to any Dark Lord during any of our life time. We will have a ritual on Beltane, all of you are to participate, were we’ll ask Lady Magic for protection about this very vision she warned us about. We will swear a vow to not get involve. I will hear no complain.”

Cyrus said nothing but nodded pensively. He didn’t know what happened in this vision to have Medea react so strongly. His wife family had already history with muggles and the Gaunt Family, when one of them had killed the Sayre patriarchal line and only a cadet branch had survived. He would talk to his wife but he himself didn’t care much either way, his wife had always done everything she could to make sure the Family would be strong and strive. And she’d never go against Lady Magic. Not after the gift they’d been given. Doing anything to jeopardize that would be akin to the ritual suicide of their entire House.

______________

Ominis next big vision had come merely months later. Noctua had been searching for Slytherin’s Scriptorium for months, giving regular update about how close she seems to be getting. While she wasn’t alone at Hogwarts, with her many nephews and niece also attending, she had taken to the task alone. One morning, while Cyrus had been teaching his grandson some parselcraft, Ominis suddenly froze, wide starry night eyes and mouth ajar on a silent scream. Cyrus acted as his wife had, taking the boy to his bed and waited. He called a house elf to let Medea know. He wondered briefly if the vision had to do with the previous one. Sometimes, seers would be unable to see anything but a specific *

When Ominis finally got back to himself, a mere 5 minutes had passed. Much quicker than his last one, but the after effect seemed to be the same. Shaking and crying, calling for his youngest aunt. "Ominis please, stop this immediatly and explain your vision. Crying about it won’t solve anything." "Grandpa?" called Ominis, putting his arms out and trying to grab in the direction the steady voice came. "Yes, my boy. I’m here" he answered, taking the little hand in his bigger one. "Tell me what you saw. Was it about your aunt Noctua? Why were you calling for her?" "She’s looking for something alone. And she’s gonna die because it’s not made to be found by one person. She’s stuck in front of a door, a screaming door and it won’t open.

[dumscribospero]

unfinished wip sebinis.

Sebastian is shaking on his bed. today had been a bad day. it had started with an itch under his skin that no amount of scratching would make go away. breakfast had been too loud, classes had been too long. he missed his time alone with Ominis, hell he missed Ominis because the boy had different classes in that friday afternoon. he just wanted everything to stop sucking so much. so as the teacher let them go for his last class of the day, Sebastian ran back to the slytherin common room and went straight to bed. cuddle his pillow while attempting to take his clothes off, he barely managed to have his outer robes and shoes off before noises stop him. "you okay sallow? saw you running in like hufflepuffs were after you to braid your hair"

" 'm fine macnair, leave me alone"

"damn you're back to bitchy. hoped Gaunt would have made you learn some manners by now" at Ominis name, Sebastian makes a small sound. "you're so pathetic."

macnair left with a huff. Sebastian whined

he knew he was pathetic but he couldn't stop himself. he wanted Ominis. the youngest Gaunt would soothes his aches as he had done during summer. he'd make everything go away. the temptation to do dark magic, every bad little thing he promised not to do. it'd felt so good to indulge but Ominis would be so mad. and disappointed. Sebastian had promised and he didn't want to fuck up again. he didn't want Ominis to change his mind and leave him.

his left hand go to the back of his head, slightly pulling at his hair. he wants to hurt. his right hand snakes his way to his nipple, ruffling his white shirt in the process, and rubs the little nub between thumb and forefinger, he wants pleasure. he's rutting against his bed, having opened his trousers and his dick out of his pants without realising. Sebastian is out of it, doesn't know what he wants and couldn't tell what he needs. he feels like darkness is closing on him, ready to tear him down and it excite him. he wants it, wants the blood, the hurt, the pain. he wants the pleasure of being ruined, the ecstasy of being broken down. lost in his mind, he doesn't hear Ominis enter the room, and taking in the sight of what's happening, sigh. he should have known Sebastian would lose it, and really he was just glad the boy hadn't lost it before. "Sebastian!" he called. Fear stopped Sebastian. he stopped moving, stopped thinking, stopped breathing. "Come here, boy." Ominis ordered, his voice pitched low. Despite his blindness, there's something Ominis sees clearly. He never said to anyone but dark magic has always been bright and clear to him. That's why before Hogwarts, when his life had been only about Gaunt Castle, he had very few problems. Dark magic was everywhere around him. Hogwarts had been an adjustment (ffs this is not porn i fucked up again) and Sebastian had been an empty spot in front of him for so long. But since he had fallen into dark magic, Sebastian had slowly become a shining light in his sight, during summer, he had shaped that brightness. And now, he could see Sebastian. Not like someone with working eyes would see, of course. No he could see the darkness in him trying to get out, to envelop him. Sneaky little tendrils floating around, ready to smother him. Ominis would have to tame them again. Make them submit to him and obey, bring back Sebastian to his self. "I said, come here." Ominis repeated when the other teenager didn't move. Sebastian finally started to go to his feet, stumbling in his haste and tumbling on his knees in front of Ominis. one of his hand went to grab at Ominis' robe, while his mouth had a life of it's own and started babbling. "Ominis please, please, i need you. You have to help me, please. Please. I need, Ominis. Please, need you." "Shhh. Don't speak now. I don't to hear your words." Ominis said, running his fingers on Sebastian face in a loving caress. Sebastian shut his mouth, but couldn't stop little sound for coming out from time to time. "That's it. There you go, peace and quiet, darling." Ominis voice was calm and soothing. "Look at you. All rumpled from touching yourself." The voice became amused. "Couldn't even do it properly, could you? Didn't find what you were looking for, did you?" The voice said, slow and taunting. "It's okay, I know what you need. I'll give it you." Sebastian whined. "Take those silly clothes off, you obviously don't know how to wear them properly." Haughty and snobbish. "Only proper wizards need to be clothed. One as debauched and mindless does not need all of these." The voice was calm, steady, and Sebastian obeyed. Taking completely off anything he still had on as best as he could while staying on the floor. "Can't even get up to do that. So precious." Sebastian's cheeks became red. He hadn't even thought of getting up. He knew his place, he had to stay down, he was a "Good boy." Ominis said, echoing Sebastian thoughts. "Get your dick in you hand. Nice. No, no, don't move, just hold it. Good, very good." Ominis voice was nearly purring. Sebastian preened under the attention, he felt good about doing as Ominis said. He could feel Ominis gaze on him despite his blindness and opened his legs a bit more, arches his back slightly, let his mouth fall a bit more ajar and let his tongue peek slightly on his bottom lips.

[dumscribospero]

because sebastian sallow doesn't know the first thing about dark magic before diving and using the darkest of it, he quickly loses control. [cue ominis having to dom sebastian aggressively.] ...so far no porn has been written. what was supposed to be a pwp is slowly working itself toward theory about magic light/dark and thought about witchcraft vs wizardry, and some worldbuilding around what was supposed to be... a pwp. i don't know where i'm going. help.

dark magic, if not used properly, corrupt of course but also slowly eats away at the wizard using it. it becomes an addiction and consumes everything it's allowed to. it's why dark practitioners are rare and dark lords inevitably gets destroyed. the more power you get the harder it is to control yourself and at some point, if not careful (and the magic itself erode it off of you), the dark magic takes everything. his best friend, Ominis gaunt, know this because he comes from a dark family. and because of this, he saw how power hunger leads to dramatic death. it is the very reason he is blind after all. dark magic in his mother while she was pregnant ate her away and tried to eat at him too. she died giving birth. he lost his ability to see properly. for everyone, Ominis is blind. it's not strictly true. he does see some things, bit so imbued of dark magic, it's better not talk about and rn what he can see Sebastian, the colour of his aura is changing, warping in itself, slowly uncovering his core and weakening him. the more he can see, the less there is to see. Ominis knows Sebastian is going to die soon if he doesn't do anything about it. he tried to warn him, but failed. now he's gonna have to make him listen or lose him forever. and making Sebastian listen has never been easy. "it's an addiction, Sebastian. You'll never get rid of it. You'll need more and more until it unravels you from the inside."

"oh and it doesn't you? you're not going mad? what with you're entire family bathing in it!"

"of course I'm not immune. . it gnawed at me before i was even born. but i've learned from it, built to resist it, and practised. and didn't start using dark magic by using Unforgivable for Salazar's sake"

Ominis can see the anger in Sebastian leaving. his eyes dull and shoulder drop. "i'm fucked aren't i? i should have listened to you from the start and i'm going to slowly get mad and die." "not if i can help it" says Ominis, grabbing his hand and holding it, hard. "you'll have to listen to me and do what i tell you. even when you don't want to. especially when you don't want to. we have to make the dark magic build path channel and fit it to your core without destroying everything. and i'm sorry to say, i don't know of a lot of ways to do that. i..." Ominis hesitates. Sebastian gets curious.

"what is it? is it hard? dangerous?"

"of course it's fucking dangerous." Ominis swears. "you'll never be the same. you have to submit to it, Sebastian. that's why dark practitioners get invited young by older, more experienced wizards. but we don't have the time to do it the traditional way.

i can already see your core. i can see you unravelling... we have to open you to the magic quickly but we also have to protect you from overdosing. it's a balance i'm not sure has been attempted before, let alone recorded. we'll have to go in... well ... blind"

at Ominis sarcastic chuckle, Sebastian smiles and tighten his hold on ominis hand.

"there's no one i'll trust in more than you to lead me through blindness, Ominis. whatever you say, i'll do. i promise "

"don't make promise you might not keep Sebastian. you know better. i'll ... we should sit down. there's a bunch of way this may start but i want you to know what is likely to happen. you have to know because i might have to to things i... you might not consent to when the time comes... there's risks..."

Sebastian shudders and transfigures a couple of chairs for them to sit on.

"okay Ominis, lay it on me. what are you gonna do to me?"

Ominis takes a deep breath.

"what do you know about magical theory? i know you didn't take the elective but do you have any knowledge about light and dark magic and the impact on core development?”

Sebastian shakes his head with a small smile. Ominis is so damn smart, retain knowledge like a sponge retain water.

"not much honestly. i know we learn only light magic because dark magic damages the core"

Ominis nods

"it's the simpler version, not wrong but... incomplete.

we mostly use light magic so adding dark magic without precautions will destabilize your magical core and if one does not pay attention...

dark magic corrupts, corrodes. and that's why it is barely taught formally at school and only ever in theory. can't trust a bunch of teenager not to hurt themselves stupidly. light and dark have the same potential, there's nothing you can do with dark that you couldn't do with light. it just use different conduit and mixing both at such a sensitive time in channel development, too early in a wizard or witch life will fuck everything up. this is why it's mostly left at coven and conclave discretion to teach that kind of thing. even Durmstrand tend to not teach any heavy dark rituals before seven year.

"

"okay so, slowly opening the core to make sure both magic can cohabit. no problem. how do we do that though?"

"well, most of the time we start with little spell. some potions can help too. things that does not disturb the core much. take things slowly. but we don't have that kind of time, he'd take years.

this is where parselcraft might help. there's... i've read books from my family library. old, entitled that have been kinda hidden because, well, nevermind. point is i've studied some books and i think i can use it but it demands trust and submission. i need to manipulate your core to make the dark magic here behave.

it's... it could backfire epically. if i misstep, you might get core injury and those can be fatal. if you don't trust me, you might reject me and hurt me or yourself trying to push me away. if i force too much, we risk to change your sense of self."

Sebastian eyes widened. His hands are clutching tightly to his knees.

"I’ll have to go back to Gaunt Manor to go through some books. I can’t just cast on you from memory. But I'll join you back in Hogwarts as soon as i can. Shouldn’t take too long." Sebastian shook his head. "Actually, I don’t have to stay at Hogwarts during the holidays. Headmaster Black spoke in my favour and they granted me early emancipation. Because Anne… disappeared, I’ve inherited everything. So I'll go back to Feldcroft, if you want to join me here…" Ominis face went from livid to furious. "They did what ? Is the ministry totally out of it’s mind ? They’re going to leave you without any adult to just… You know what never mind. I already knew they were corrupted, incompetent and lazy. I just hoped. But it’s fine. It’ll work in our favour i guess."

----------

ominis goes home. Talk/bullshit to his brothers about his plan. Because of his blindness he can find any pureblood witch willing to marry him (thanks to a nice little curse on himself, unknown to his family) so his options for the futur aren’t too good. He explains to his Marvolo that he plans to use to half blood as a pet/slave when he’s of age, so he’ll withdraw from public eye and not impact the Family. Talk to his father and brothers about about a research he heard from an old Durmstrang student: about family magic and inherited magical legacy. How muggleborn (mudblood, for them, really) are sometimes gifted magical power and those can be harvest, through continual magical ties like magical weddings or conclave and coven, to strengthen old family magic. How it leeches the magical gift to add to the Old Line. How some Old Lines lose magical inherence by tying themselves to each other, making strong magical house fight for hereditary magic and weakening them in the process. Basically Ominis trying to subtly push his inbreed, racist family to move away from marrying each other and killing every muggleborn they see. > might come from previous chapter. holy shit it's gonna end up multi chapter, even spanning books at this point. HELP< In so, he’s willing, for the good of the Family, to ties himself magically to a strongly magically gifted half blood to add to the Family magical well. ---------

after a couple weeks pouring through old books of parselfcraft and dark magic, Ominis take his leave from his family. While his father doesn’t actually warm to the runt of the family, he can see him be of use. He slowly blends in better in the long list of siblings. He’s the youngest, the 5th son and 7th child. And while Marvolo, the eldest, is 27 (12 when Ominis was born) he’s still at home. In fact, of the seventh children only two are married and away, the first daughter, Amarantha, who’ve been betrothed and married as soon as possible and the penultimate son, Reuben.

[dumscribospero]

lucky at cards, unlucky in love

« Your luck just ran out » said the card dealer to Jesper. He’d been pressing his luck all night, keeping on playing as long as he was winning but finally his luck had ran out. But try as he might, he wasn’t even unhappy about it because at the same moment Wylan just entered the gambling den and shot him a dazzling smile. He might be unlucky at cards, but he was lucky in love and that’s all that mattered.

[dumscribospero]

rpf. slash. french

Dach est un habitué de l’amertume du chagrin qui accompagne un amour non réciproque. Il n’en parle pas, il n’en a pas besoin. En parler ne changerait pas les choses en positif, bien au contraire. Il est amoureux de son meilleur ami, l’est depuis des années maintenant, et celui-ci est en couple et fou amoureux d’une personne formidable. Il n’y a pas de rancœur à avoir. Les choses sont ce qu’elles sont. Et si il a des moments de déception, jamais il n’a de ressentiment. Jamais il ne se dit qu’il a raté sa chance, jamais il n’a de regret sur ce qu’il aurait dû faire différemment. Il est amoureux de son meilleur ami, mais son meilleur ami est amoureux d’une autre que lui. Parfois, parfois les sentiments le submergent de façon inattendue. L’intensité d’une amitié, profonde,vraie, peut être tout aussi forte que de l’amour. Mais ressentir les deux en même temps est dévastateur. Son meilleur ami ne l’aime pas d’amour, mais son amitié est inébranlable. -------------------------------- Zerator est une personne tactile. Il a le contact facile envers les personnes qu’il aime. Ses amis le savent et sont les premiers à en rire quand, après quelques verres le streamer distribue les câlins comme s’il était payé pour. L’un de ses meilleur ami lui avait un jour dit en riant que s’il n’était pas célèbre, il serait le genre à avoir une pancarte free hugs dans une convention. Dach, son bras droit, ne le sait que trop bien. Et il est devenu un pro à canaliser son meilleur ami dans certaines situations, particulièrement professionnelles. Les fins d’évènements où la fatigue gagne tout le monde et les émotions partent dans tous les sens sont un calvaire pour lui car Zerator devient une vraie pieuvre, capable de jeter ses bras autour de n’importe quelle personne pour peu qu’il l’apprécie et qu’elle passe à proximité. Peu importe s’il est filmé par des caméras où s’ils sont seuls. Lui même en a fait les frais régulièrement. Il est devenu un expert à se détacher de l’homme poulpe sans trop de problèmes. Même si les premières fois furent légèrement gênantes. Particulièrement parce que Dach avait un début d’érection à cacher non seulement à la personne attacher à lui mais également au reste des personnes présentes. Parce que le vrai problème derrière les câlins de Zerator, c’était les sentiments que Dach tentaient tant bien que mal de cacher. Il avait appris au fil des années à étouffer ses sentiments autre que l’amitié mais de temps en temps, ses réactions physiques le laissait tremblant de désir. Et ce zevent 2022 n’était pas la première fois qu’il avait le début d’une érection suite à un câlin un peu trop prolongé. Mais entre la fatigue

[dumscribospero]

rpf. slash. french.wysiwyg dldr

Zerator se rassit sur sa chaise, se prenant la tête dans les mains sans pouvoir réellement croire à ce qu’il venait de se passer. le montpelliérain était plus que fatigué. éreinté. 3 jours de streams, en plus de tout les problèmes à régler en dehors. sans compter tout le travail en amont. c’était des semaines de préparation et des mois de stress. en plus de l’épuisement physique, il y avait l’exhaustion morale. le streamer arrivait à bout de force et malgré la difficulté de continuer, l’adrénaline et la joie le ferait tenir jusqu’à la fin de l’évènement. car le zevent n’était pas encore terminé. ils avaient passé la barre des 10 millions, après les frayeurs du bug de streamlabs et avoir à repousser d’une heure la fin de l’event... il leur restait une quarantaine de minutes pour égaliser le montant de l’année précédente et enfin il était prêt à y croire. Enfin, il réalisait que peut être ça allait pouvoir se faire. Il se redressa en entendant Dash dire ‘‘j’ai plus de chaise’‘. Il lança un regard à son partenaire et ne put s’empêcher de rire. Dash s’était accroupit devant le bureau de stream, n’avait même pas pris la peine d’essayer de retrouver sa chaise et s’était cacher le visage dans ses mains. Il connaissait bien cette réaction. Il la partageait. Et il se jeta de nouveau sur lui pour l’enlacer. ‘‘c’est toi, c’est toi cette année!’‘ dit-il sans trop savoir ce qu’il essayait de communiquer. “je sais pas si c’est moi mais....” répondit Dash avant de pousser un soupir de soulagement. Zera avait du mal à réaliser, mais malgré tous les zevent précédent c’était la première fois où il se sentait un peu perdu. Comme déconnecté. Et il avait vraiment l’impression que, plus que les années d’avant, il allait avoir besoin de Dash pour finir sans craquer. En faisait un check à Etoiles, la légende qui s’était démené pour rendre ce Zevent mémorable, il pouvait sentir que ses émotions n’étaient plus très stables et qu’il était à deux doigts de pleurer comme jamais. En se retournant et en jetant un coup d’oeil vers le chat puis vers la caméra, Zera savait qu’il ne lui restait plus longtemps à tenir. Mais que les dernieères minutes allaient être les plus éprouvantes. The show must go on, prenant une inspiration, il se concentra sur les confettis tombés sur son bureau, les enlevant en faisant le clown, forçant un peu la joie qu’il présentait mais ne ressentait plus vraiment. C’était son job après tout, amuser la galerie. Un michel l’interpella et lui fit signe de se retourner et il vit Damdam avec les ballons des 10 millions. Un grand sourire franc lui étira immédiatement les lèvres. Elle savait arrivée au bon moment pour le relancer dans la bonne humeur. Il éclata le ballon des 9 millions et accepta avec plaisir l’un des ballons des 10 millions, laissant le soin à Dach de récupérer le deuxième. Ils posèrent avec leur ballon et reprirent le stream. Ne pas avoir à gérer seul était un soulagement.

[dumscribospero]

I have /feelings/ about the sandman, especially because Dreams not supposed to be human. So judging him by human logic and standard feels disingenuous. So i just took ep08 and kind of... filled the gaps of his and Gault conversation. I mostly think Dreams would need to learn how to word properly with others to be less of a moron. I mean he’d still be a dickhead by human standard but it would make more sense to me about /why/ he was a dickhead. (though i can’t imagine someone having access to dreams and nightmares of someone like donald trump could be anything less than slightly unhinged) 

Do you have any ideas what his life is like in the waking world?

Not really, Morpheus doesn’t pretend to observe the lives of every human being, every being that comes to the Dreaming. How many of them suffer through their life, for short or long period of times? Too many. Nearly all of them will, at one point or another, experience suffering. And while he doesn’t have the time to care, most of their experience will echo in him through the dreams and nightmare each and every last one of them will experience in his realm. Does he know what Jed’s life is like? No. But he knows one thing for sure, all the misery one experience in one’s life is the purpose of their living. Human are meant to live their life in the waking.

Human cannot lives in dreams. As long as he stayed there, the child had no life nor the chance for one.

The one, fundamental thing to ever guide Morpheus and his actions is the knowledge that leaving one’s life in the Dreaming is not fulfilling a human’s life. And if their had ever been any proof needed, his abduction and imprisonment for a century proved that. All these people, stuck in their dreams, slowly wasting their life and having their lifetime taken away. The boy is being abused. He’s suffering.

What would make Jed Walker matter more than anyone else? What would the child suffering matter more than any other child. Any other suffering. The Lord of Dreams and Nightmares purpose is not to protect one child. They are free of his influence in the waking. Only is he allowed to influence their dreaming, and by extent Dreams and Nightmares have the same limitations.

You abused that suffering to build a Dreaming you could rule.

I had no wish to rule. I merely wish to be a Dream and not a Nightmare. To inspire rather than to frighten. Commendable for a human, toward fellow human. Which Gault is not. Neither is he. Their wish, their hope, their feelings didn’t matter for they had their own place.

The choice is not yours to make. We do not choose to be created. Nor do we choose how we are made.

Hadn’t he himself wish to be other than himself, at some point or other in his existence? When rules had prevented him to act as he would have wish to. When his own actions had only brought him and others misery. He knew of choice. He knew none of them had any.

That is true. But we can change.

How to make his creation understand the fundamental flaw of their thinking? Who were they to decided of the influence they get to have on humanity, outside of their designated purpose behind their existence. No we are, each of us, born with responsibilities. Even I am not free to choose to be other than I am. Nor is anyone.   Had he not similar thought when rules imposed to him had prevented him to act as he would have wish to. When his own actions had only brought him and others misery, had he not also tried to find solace in merely thinking about leaving his responsibilities behind? He knew of choice. He knew he had none. Neither any of his creations. If that were true, why did all the other Dreams and Nightmares choose to leave this place when you had gone away? A knife through his heart would hurt less. He knew about the lack of loyalty of everyone living in his realm when he came back to an empty, destroyed land; but hearing from one of his own subject hurt. One who left and decided not only not to come back, but to actively act against their maker’s instruction. What could be more of a faithlessness, an abandonment. Not all of us chose to leave and nearly all have returned.

Ah, Lucienne. Steadfast and faithful when nearly all other had left him. Do you think they came back out of love? Or because they were afraid of what you would do to them if they did not?  Because I’m not afraid. Had he failed in his task that much? First the Corinthian, killing humans in the waking. And now Gault, repudiating the design of their existence. You should be. A Nightmare’s purpose is to reveal a dreamer’s fears, that they may face them. Perhaps a few thousand years in the darkness will reveal your fears. Better that than to make others afraid. Even a Nightmare can dream, my lord.

[dumscribospero]

luisa and victor did the voodoo thing to bring sofiane back, be his battery to keep him alive with them. and all is fine and dandy until sofiane realize that the feeling he got sometimes aren’t from him. there’s no reason for him to be super happy, sad or horny all of a sudden. he’s just in his room, working on his homework (prepa is kicking his ass and he hasn’t been able to have a proper social life. it’s been work, work, work for so long) <

he doesn’t really know what luisa and victor are doing now. since he left for the school, he hadn’t had much contact with them. just a text sometimes to ask how he’s doing and such.

[dumscribospero]

!wi(not)p

rasmus go to wunder’s room because miky (and rekkles iguess) are having super loud sex in the room next to him. 

the first time it happens, it start in late afternoon. caps go to his room to to play some league when the sound start: moans and bed thumping. it gets real awkward real quick so he just leave for the gaming room. jankos is using the streaming room and wunder’s in his own probably playing wow.  a couple hours later, rasmus tries to go back to his room but back away quickly. damn these boys have stamina. he picks up his phone and goes to the living room to call his family. might as well, he doesn’t have anything better to do and he’s been missing them. the thing is, caps doesn’t say a word about it. and it become a recurring thing. miky and rekkles have loud sex and caps sexile himself on the other side of the gaming house. honestly he starts to regret the time he was rooming next to jankos. the jungler sure was sometimes noisy and burst into loud laughter or screams at the weirdest time but overall, it wasn’t so bad. especially because he was streaming from miky’s room a lot.  so caps just go to the gaming room to play in peace. that one time, it happens in the middle of the night. caps had been sleeping soundly when he get waken up by loud stumping noise against the wall and moans that are turning real quick in shout.  rasmus, usually a bit slow to wake, quickly get up and run out of his bedroom in panic to the gaming room where he closes the door and sit in his gaming chair. breathing quickly he realizes he left with his pillow in his arms and without a shirt on. he starts to get cold but doesn’t dare going back to his room. he already heard some pretty disturbing shit from the low key kinky sex fiends that are his teammates and the less exposure he has to it, the better for his peace of mind.   he shuffles to wunder’s room and knocks on the door, a bit noisily to be heard over the noises of the game from wunder’s headset.  wunder opens the door half asleep with bed hair and a grumpy face, clearly unhappy at being woken up. rasmus is terribly sorry and embarrassed. he thought wunder might have been playing wow and didn’t think he’d wake him up, and really he’s so sorry, can he just borrow a hoodie and he’ll let wunder go back to sleep. martin not dumb and just wave his excuses off and ask him what the fuck is happening. why the fuck does he needs a hoodie, why can’t he take one of his own and why the fuck isn’t he sleeping anyway.  now things get awkward. caps has to explain that he just ran out of his room because rekkles and miky’s loud sex and wunder just can’t stop the laughter from escaping him, caps’ face get bright red and he shuffles from one feet to another. wunder slides out of the way and gestures caps inside. “c’mon, get in, we can share.’‘ ‘‘what? no, i don’t... there’s no need! i just got cold and i was...’‘ ‘‘rasmus? shut up and get in bed.’‘

rasmus is super embarrassed but kind of relieved too because he’s really tired and he’s starting to shiver a bit.  ‘‘i don’t have blanket as heavy as yours, you want a shirt or something?’‘ asks Martin, seeing Rasmus shivering. the midlanner nods and asks if he can have a hoodie. and martin just nods and hands him one of his old one. the thing has been washed so much, it’s really soft and comfortable to wear. it’s a bit too large on caps but it’ll do.  so they get in bed and sleep the rest of the night like that.  the next morning, wunder wake up first with rasmus weight on his chest because the midlaner sprawled in his sleep and ended up half on top of wunder. trying to get out, martin wakes up rasmus. since they’re both awaken, they get up and go have breakfast. it’s a bit early for wunder but he’s hungry. so they get to the kitchen to grab some food and eat silently. it’s not awkward, just peaceful.  jankos joins them a couple minutes later and starts to poke fun at wunder ‘cause seing him already up is unusual and every opportunity to rib him up is a good one. there’s a bit of barb exchanged good naturally between the top and jungler.  then rekkles and miky join too, and miky sees right away that caps is wearing a hoodie that’s not his. it’s definitively wunder’s, he knows because he remember the toplaner wearing it a lot back in their splyce days, but hadn’t been worn much since they reunited in g2. also caps doesn’t seem to be able to rise his head from his bowl of cereals, and seems embarrassed. it’s kinda weird caps not participating in conversations.  jumping to conclusion, miky teases him and wunder about it. smelling blood in the water, jankos join on the teasing while rekkles just chuckles at their antics. but isn’t born the one that will poke fun at wunder without him giving as good as he gets. he asks to everyone around the table if they really want to know what happened the previous night between him and caps and before anyone can even answer (though caps’ head finally got up, red on his cheek and eyes wide) he explains how he got woken up. and because he’s a massive troll, he puts flourish in his explanations. how poor innocent caps had come to him in the middle of the night without a shirt but cuddling his pillow, using it as a shield. he had been so cold and tired but scared to even go back to his room to get a shirt, let alone sleep, because there had been so much noise in the room next to his. sex noises that had woke him up, prompt him to flee right away and stopped him from going back.  he was gonna sleep in the living room, but wunder in his immense generosity had given him a hoodie and share a place to sleep peacefully.   while going through his story, wunder smile had morphed slowly into a smirk as he could see miky and rekkles get embarrassed too. caps had go back to hiding in his bowl and jankos had not understood everything, because he had not known about the sex between miky and rekkles. hadn’t even known they were in a relationship really.