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đ¸đđđşđđ đđđđ đłđđ˘ 4: đ˛đđđđđ˘ đąđđđđđđđ
@inukag-week
#Inukag week#inukag week day 4#inukag#Inuyasha#Pocket Scribs#Inu-scribs#Kagome Higurashi#Haha I'm not a day late to posting this only for it to still look bad cuz I rushed noooo haha#Also it's been a while since I've drawn these two despite it all so they look kinda wonky đŹ#Inuyasha fanart#Fanart#Skedoodle if u will#inukag fanart#inuyasha x kagome#Kagome#Anyways this kinda took it's color scheme from Endo's spring Anya art bc I acc adore that piece but shhhhh
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Unwanted Soul = Requested
[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]
The Request
Part 1 (here) â Part 2 â Part 2.5 (ask) â Part 3 Â â Part 4 â Part 5 â Part 6 â Part 7 â Part 8 â Part 9 â Part 10 (END)
You werenât a powerful Overlord nor were you the weaker ones to have their souls owned by other demons to survive in this hellhole. Youâre merely capable enough to get by your everyday life. Like always, youâd stay clear from any of ongoing battles or powerful demons that were out and about. Your keen 6th sense to pinpoint potential dangers was always your go-to during your outings
You kind of treated Hell as your paradise to shut-in in your room and read all the comics you want plus watch all the TV shows you want. You were one of the rare demons that get connection to the Earth realm where you can enjoy the guilty pleasures you spend your days doing. Of course, your death was a suicide as you saw no life ahead of you
But you really really should have stayed in that day. It started out as any other day in Hell and you were on your way to the usual supermarkets for the junk food and drink you love. Normally, it was uneventful, until you caught sight of a dying demon, no, âwoundedâ would be the right word since demons would only demon by angelic blades, even you knew that. Still, the demon was heavily wounded
It must have been a good few minutes since you caught weaker demons attempting to take advantage of the weakened demon as easy prey. You immediately took out your notebook, scribbing a phase before tearing it out and blow on it lightly. The page turned to white sparkles before taking shape of a row of angelic spears around you, it launched at the weak demons before they could do anything to the wounded one
You took went to the wounded demon quickly as your spears faded to nothing after doing its damage. You held his limb hand and closed your eyes, visualizing your cozy apartment and the ground swallowed the two of you up. In the blink of an eye, you were back home, sighing in relief
Not even a moment, you were knocked to the ground and pinned down by your shoulders and thigh. You struggled a bit before you realized it was the wounded demon that was pinning you down with radio dials for eyes
Without thinking, you reached into your coat pocket and took out a piece of paper, slamming it onto his face and blew at it. The paper faded to nothing but sparks then the demon stilled before closing his eyes and slumping forward onto you. Unconscious. But you invited someone you shouldnât have into your home
This had to be Alastor, the Radio Demon
You grimaced, eying Alastor on top of you sleeping like a harmless deer. You thought of throwing him back out into the streets, but you didnât exactly have the heart to. You came to the conclusion of healing him as fast as you could then sending him on his merry way! Yes!
Noooo!!! Why is he still here!?!?!?!?!?!?!??????!!!!!
âMy dear, you really should be taking more care of your diet. This is hardly filling or healthy for you.â Alastor eyed the cup noodle you were about to open up like you were holding trash âBut itâs fast and gets my hunger sated.â You eyed back, âItâs not like Iâm feeding you this. I cook for your meals anywaysâŚâ You continued roaming around the kitchen, rubbing a fork, and setting a timer for your food. Ignoring the closeness of Alastor. âAs long as it doesnât concern you, itâll be fine. Iâll treat you better since you just healed up. These are my own indulgence.â âAnd I appreciate your hospitality, dear, truly, I do. The matter at hand is your consumption!â Alastor grabbed your precious cup noodle lunch away, âI shall take over your meals from now on.â
Yes, you have fully healed Alastor and heâs back to full health. No, you didnât tell him to stay. In fact, the moment his wounds were all healed, you showed him the open door, waiting for him to leave. He didnât exactly let you make him leave. He said he was staying to repay your kindness, but all he was doing was inserting him into your afterlife and really making it Hell
At first, he praised your unique power to summon anything you write with a gentle blow, especially the part where you put him to sleep the first time. Then he urged you to make a name for yourself, but you really just want to shut yourself in your room and indulge in your time-wasting hobby. You told him off and shut yourself in your room, but he would just appear through the shadows and apologise, saying heâd leave the matter
When that whole business was done, Alastor got worse. Youâre positive some other demons would love to be treated this way, but youâre just weirded out. It started out small, Alastor making meals like he said, shifting your schedule to a healthier one. Then taking care of your needs whenever you are about to do something. Even as simple as getting a glass of water
Then it escalated to touches. A handholding here, maybe heâs lean into you while reading. Or heâll lay next to you in your own bed. Shift closer to you while on the couch. Stare at you while you were busy reading manga or watching animes and shows. Plus you could feel him staring at you while you sleep from the shadows even though you told him not to
But the most unnerving thing was when you would go restock on your food and other supplies. Alastor being the gentleman would carry and pay for your stuff. That youâre used to and didnât care since either way, you had your methods. It was what happens during the two of you walking
âAlastorâŚâ You hugged your coat tighter as your lips pressed together tightly from the scene, your eyebrows furrowed from the tense situation you were in. You had just left the shop to get new books and volumes, only to be met with such a sight. âWhatâŚâ âMy darling, your timing is perfect.â Alastor threw away the torn body of what used to be a demon. The street was covered with a layer of thick red and black blood. Hellborns and sinners alike were all brutally ripped away by the fearsome Radio Demon. âThese pest dares to look at you wrongly, surely they deserve a good, limb pulling.â He walked over to you with his ever-present smile, offering his clean hand. âShall we head home, My Doe?â You feel yourself tense as you firmly told him, âJust because they stare at me a little long and spat out rude remarks, itâs not an excuse or reason to torture them like this. Iâm⌠I donât exactly mind unless they attack.â Alastor grabbed your hand and kissed it, âDearie, why give them the chance to harm you when I can prevent it? You can name and point fingers, Iâll be your killer.â
Trapped was what you felt at home and anywhere, as long as Alastor was there, you didnât like it. Those sweet romantic gestures and attention from him that you would only see in your books and shows left a bad taste in your mouth.Â
At the 4th year, however, something changed. Alastor sold his soul to you as the âlastâ act of pure devotion and loyalty to you. Since the contract was all by your rules, you made use of it
Limit Alastorâs powers because it scares you how much he could do and the destruction he could cause. Forbid him from devouring or owning souls because he does it so easily when he thinks you were wronged in any way. And most importantly, forbid him from disobeying your words, whatever they may be, that way, you can finally have peace
How Alastor was still able to be this unnerving, you didnât know and you didnât want to know. Somehow, the contract was something like a declaration that the two of you were romantically involved with ecah other? If it made sense. It didnât, really
Alastor still stayed with you because he had told you a long time ago that his home was destroyed in a brutal battle, hence why you found him that battered. So you offered yours. You did manage to set some firmer ground rules with the contractâs help. Like no entering your room or throwing away your junk food
Though Alastor still plays a big part in your life just because. You had wanted a lover before, but Alastor had proven how bad a relationship could go, and you two didnât even established anything! You love fiction, fiction is life or afterlife. You can just drown yourself in the world of fiction and never leave
Thatâs the basis of your power. Itâs like summoning through writing and the faint blow from your lips. You have to be aware of the components though, the hardest to summon was definitely the angel spears. It was the day after extermination and a spear was stuck into a demon, you were curious and took it back with you. You studied it and tested it out, knowing its strength and limitations before actually attempting to summon it. Works well enough, since it was easy to study
In the blink of an eye, 7 years had already passed. While Alastor was out on buying new ingredients for your celebration dinner of surviving another extermination, you caught the Princess of Hell and her promotion on the âHappy Hotelâ. A place that welcomes anyone, a place that gives anyone a chance. It sounds lovely, but you didnât have the mentality and energy to help out
A foolproof plan came to mind. You could, no, should send Alastor there. He loves entertainment! He wouldnât be bored there! The hotel is much bigger and thereâs more people there for him to hang out with. Plus he would definitely get a room there since heâs going to be staying. Even when he disagrees, because you just know he would rather stay by your side, you can use the contract as a last resort
âMy dear!â Alastor greeted the moment he came back from his little shopping. He gave you a peak on the crown of your head when he walked past you, then headed to the table to place the bags of items down. âDid you hear about that ridiculous plan the Princess told in the picture box? Hahaha! Itâs sure to fail! No way in any universe would just a silly and childish thing happen! No, sir!â âI want to help her with it, it sounds like a good plan. Itâs better than annual exterminations.â You spoke while coming over to check the things Alastor brought. âBut you know Iâm more of a home person and not the go-out and help-others type.â âExactly, dearie, we need not care for such fantasy.â Alastor nodded along. âThatâs why youâre going in my place.â You stated firmly without blinking or shifting in your spot, at the growing static, you looked up to see Alastorâs eyes turned to radio dial. Very rarely are those directed at you since he swore heâd never do you harm or wish you harm. âYouâll go and help the Princess to make it a success.â Alastorâs eyes shifted back to normal, narrowing as he asked, âTill how long, my dear?â You had to control yourself to hide a smile as you spoke, âFor as long as it takes of course. You canât rush redemption, right? And itâs the first of its kind too.â The static grew again, you knew Alastor was getting annoyed with such a wish (order) from you. âBut this would take a long while. Iâd be returning to check on you, yes?â âOh, no. Canât interrupt your work.â You said, carrying your pile of snacks to your little comfort corner and dropping it with huff, there was a skip in your step as you returned back to the table. âYou canât come back here nor see me when in the service of the Princess. Well, you can see me when Iâm the one to approach you or call for you, thatâs the only exception.â Alastor would have a frown on by now if it werenât for his insistence on the power of smiles, âWho would take care of you? Who would watch over you? Who would tend to you? Who would protect you while Iâm gone, sweetheart?â You laughed, âDonât be so dramatic. I can handle myself. Itâs just like before I met you,â You didnât miss the radio crackling like it broke connection, âBut this time, I have you as a backup should I need.â
Making Alastor leave you wouldnât have been possible without the contract and the fact that his soul was yours to control. Very pushy but you had to do what you had to, it was all to regain that quiet and isolated shut-in life you love. Never have you missed the silence in your home and the void of a watchful gaze all around you
You squealed and smiled brightly, âTime to chill and laze around!â
Oh how the Radio Demon was fuming as he made his way to that ratchaed hotel. He shouldnât have let you know of such a news. If that inferno picture box was broken, then you wouldnât know. No, you have your phone, so that makes no difference. Maybe it was the fact that that cannibal chef was gone that Charlie had time to promote that idea of hers?Â
This would be his first appearance since 7 years ago. He kept his presence gone from the public eye just to hide his connection and fancy towards you. If demons knew you had his soul, who knows what danger youâd be in? He canât let that happen to you. No, you were the kind soul that saved him and gave him a place to belong. Truly belong
Never had he felt such a sense of comfort around someone so lazy and chill. The fact that you were average but powerful in your right that you humble yourself to blend in with others. To live your afterlife as you please and like without a care in the world. So long as your interest was sated
He just couldnât help but want to be yours. You deserve it, after all
But now. Now he had to provide his attention and care to some princessâ dream! What joke is this?!
Were you sending him away because he wasnât strong enough? You limited his powers to see if he could still be as strong as before. Was that the reason? What other demon held your attention? As far as he knew. You have no interest in forming connections. He was the first one you actually cared for and hosted your home for! You donât even own other souls and youâre strong!
He was your only one. Only!
In front of the hotel, he knocked rhythmically, waiting patiently for the door to be opened and for him to introduce himself. Heâll show you. âHelââ The door closed shut in his face before it opened again, â-lo!â
His ears twitched as he heard the ruckus inside. These souls donât deserve your time and attention spent on them, heâll deal with the problem like always and return to your side. Heâll show you just how powerful and cruel he is and can be
The door opened again and he introduced himself with his plan in mind. âAlastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, princess. Quite a pleasure!â
Note: I really really didn't mean to do this so long... I could have put it into 2 parts, but I was too lazy to. There was actually some more I wanna add, but then it will be a literal essay. Anyways~ How you like this one?
Circe Y.
Other Works: MASTERLIST
Taglist:
@aconfusedwonderland
@crowleysthings
@donustellaron
#Circe's Nighty Writings#Circe's requested writings#alastor imagine#alastor x reader#alastor x y/n#alastor x you#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor headcanons#hazbin hotel fanfiction#alastor#hazbin hotel oneshots#yandere alastor#yandere alastor x reader#yandere hazbin hotel#alastor fanfiction#hazbin hotel imagines#Unwanted Soul
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what do you think little aduriâs first impression of avrusa and sinderion wasâŚ
"And this," says Sinderion, leaning with a grin across the shoulder-carriage bench, "is Asplenium regelliam."
The toddler on Avrusa's copious lap stares, cross-eyed and scholarly, at the sprig of green tickling her nose. Then she squishes her face with a thoughtful gurgle.
"Yes, indeed," says Sinderion with utmost solemnity, "it's named for the estimable Chivius Regelliam, whose work has proven invaluable to we who crawl through hedgerows in his wake. Very good."
"Don't listen to him, sprout," says Avrusa, raising her eyebrows. "Never crawled through a hedgerow in his life. I did all the field work." She bounces her new charge, winning a giggle, then peers with mock severity into her face. "What's A. regelliam in the vernacular?"
Little Aduri gives her a rapt look. Then she reaches up to pull Avrusa's lip.
"Ouch," says Avrusa, amused. "Nirnroot, that's rightâouch."
The shoulder-carriage jostles through the City of Gems on bright and crowded streets, bobbing around foot-traffic like a boat. It has windows. Avrusa tries not to look at them. Outside, the city brims with light and noise: the rattle of pushcarts, the sizzle of frying scrib, the shouts of the chairmen bearing them from her father's squalid palace to the rooms they've rented over the market-square. Not cheap. Nor is the chairmen's feeâbut the child can't walk, Avrusa reasons, and Sinderion will be two hundred and ninety next week.
And her father, she thinks, bitter as wormwood, has willed the sprout some pocket-change.
Sinderion, replacing the nirnroot in his bottomless bag, looks sidelong at her. Thenâwith that awkward, punctilious insight of hisâhe takes her hand.
"I'm all right," Avrusa rasps, then clears her throat. "Will be." She shakes her head, struck with amazed griefâhow suddenly it comes and goes, like the gusts of ash that had once rolled through Ald'ruhn. "He used to keep such a clean house. More than clean."
Her mentor's hands had been lively, once: scribbling notes, sketching lectures in the air, flicking her fingers when she held a pestle wrong. Now they tremble with the simple strain of squeezing her hand. "Orderly?"
"Yes." She looks with bewilderment at the toddlerâher half-sister, for gods' sake, two hundred years younger than herself. "And heân'chow, Sinderion, he was older than you. I just don't understandâ"
The shoulder-carriage bucks. Avrusa finds herself doing several things at once: clutching the toddler to her chest, cursing, kicking out a leg to keep Sinderion's bag from flying into him. It crunches. The ungrateful old twig cries out and swats her knee. "You harridan, my retort!"
"Bother your retortâ"
"My flasks!"
"Were you planning to brew elixirs," demands Avrusa, righting herself, "here in the sedanâ"
Aduri giggles again. Sinderion's grin reappears, as it always does, like an ancient light sputtering on. "Funny, are we?"
Avrusa sets the squirming toddler on her knee. The sprout is scrawny, she thinks with a frown. She smells sour, milky; she'd screamed and kicked the maid who, an hour or so ago, had shoved her at Avrusa with a desperate smile. Avrusa had understood them both. Part of her, she thinks, had wanted to kick something, tooâhad wanted it ever since she set out, across countless leagues and second-guesses, to fetch home a child she hadn't known existedâ
The toddler puts her hand in her mouth. "Bah."
"That's right," says Sinderion, the old cellar-dweller. "Species Plantarum is our art's most inviolable text."
Their new pupil takes her hand from her mouth, studies it academically, then puts it back. Something in Avrusa's chest moves.
"Excelsior," she says gruffly, and tickles her sister's skinny ribs. "I'll read you some."
Aduri laughs. The sound is bright and sweet as a nirnroot's chime.
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Hello Talviel,
My brothers were both fortunate enough to attend the College of Winterhold before the great collapse, (unfortunately I was too young) and they tell me that in it's day Winterhold was home to some wonderfully unique Dunmeri-Nord fusion cuisine, and they've often expressed regret that they were too wrapped up in their studies to experience it while they had the chance. I was wondering if any recipes may have survived? Even if you can't help me, I'd like to thank you for taking the time to read my letter, and I wish you well.
-Azuri Savrenar
Dear Azuri,
Dunmeri-Nord fusion cuisine as we know it is best preserved on Solstheim today, and is also prevalent in pockets of Skyrim like Windhelm. While the food of these two Provinces bear very little in common, combining the two works surprisingly well.
Whether it's horker and ash yam stew or scrib rosti, there are so many fun and delicious combinations of flavours when the two cultures meld.
Some of the most notable Dunmeri-Nord dishes I can name off the top of my head include roast elk with shein and comberry sauce, smoked slaughterfish with saltrice porridge, goat cheese and guar gratin with ash yam mash, and pea and kwama egg soup with scrib bacon.
Hopefully this gives you an idea of where and what to eat! Best of luck! ~Talviel
NB: You can read more about Dunmeri fusion cuisine on page 125 of my worldbuilding compendium and Tamrielic fusion food here!
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Clockwork heart pt31
Part 30 here
âââ
Wyrm: *in the Radiant Raiment, quietly standing still as the previously short and abrasive Endarie fits him with some clothes and gradually softens towards his naturally sweet and gentle nature* I like this, it doesnât feel too tight or loose, I can actually move my arm!
Endarie: *outwardly her usual self but inwardly excited for the challenge of fitting around a prosthetic* yes, I can see how less skilled tailors would fail to account for such a complex and delicate system of mechanisms. *slides the robe off of him* and as promised itâs free of charge. Itâs the least I can do as an apology for my sisters antics.
Taliesin: *leaning against the wall dressed in a fancy outfit, holding the wabbajack and trying to hide a literal pelvis in his bag* Oh truely itâs no bother. It was certainly worth the trip across town. And Um, I understand. That inquiry might take a little longer than a few days. Correct?
Endarie: yes yes. *helps Wyrm down from the platform she had to raise him up on to meet her height* Youâve given me the measurements I needed however if you donât have the time to linger around the city and wait for their completion I can have them delivered.
Taliesin: Ah, that would be best given the- uncertainty of what the events of the following weeks might be. Have them sent to Urag Gro Shub at the collage of winterhold.
Wyrm: please?
Endarie: *heart melting at how polite the dunmer is* Very well Iâll have it arranged.
Taliesin: *nods finding it endearing how Wyrm doesnât fully understand the sharpness and undertones of altmeri conversation, mistaking a statement without without pleasantries or imperial manners as rude or abrasive* Good, weâll return in a few days. *steps back towards the door and opens it up waiting for Wyrm*
Wyrm: *smiles up at Endarie as he walks by* thank you maâam! *hurries to taliesins side and walks out with him*
Endarie: hm. What a cute young Mer.
Taarie: His boyfriends not bad looking either~
Endarie: gods there you go trying to wreck another home. *lifts the special request note with measurements out of her pocket* hm. Do we have any silk crescent needles left? Itâs been a while since Iâve made ballet slippers.
*meanwhile*
Nerevar: *staring at the note quietly as voryn finalises organising rooms for them* âŚ
Voryn: *walks over to him as he descends the staircase* I saw him.
Nerevar: *pockets the note* Upstairs?
Voryn: balcony. Heâs definitely the prince of the dominion but-
Nerevar: but what?
Voryn: heâs⌠unguarded. Completely unguarded.
Nerevar: what?!
Voryn: Iâve sensed every corner of this entire inn. Not a single trace of a spy, a guard, nothing. And if he does have guards and theyâre disguised as the drunks at the bar- *grimaces watching one of said drunks vomit over the floor* theyâre- awfully convincing in their act.
Nerevar: *sighs* what should we do?⌠wait for Wyrm?
Voryn: I⌠I think we should. He⌠*steps away from him and slowly glances out up to the balcony to see the high elf seated there still, leg bouncing with visible anxiety* ⌠*walks back to nerevar* I donât think heâs a threatâŚ
Wyrm: whose a threat?
Voryn: *jumps and spins around to see Wyrm standing behind him* Gods even out of your armour youâre a sneaky little scrib. Iâm this close to tying a bell to your braid!
Wyrm: *snickers* sorry.
Nerevar: *chuckles* Our rooms have been organised. I take it everything went well, you look- different.
Taliesin: *hands Wyrm the wabbajack as he tosses the hip bone in the trash* Dont ask.
Nerevar: I- where did you get- and the pelvis-
Wyrm: oh a crazy wood elf gave it to me and asked me to find his master for him, we were already going up there so Tali could show off an outfit for the high elf ladies at the clothing store and we had to sneak into a haunted part of the blue palace and I fell into an oblivion portal and played a few games with sheogorath! He was very nice. Then when I came out I had this cool staff and- *reaches into his bag pulling out a whole wheel of cheese and a strawberry tart* this!
Voryn: I- How did you- you were gone for only a couple hours and-
Nerevar: *grinning past his concern with an amount of pride only he could understand having experienced much the same in his time as the nerevarine* Thatâs all the time it takes for something interesting to happen. At least neither of you got hurt.
Inigo: Erm- speaking of getting hurt.
Everyone: *turns to see inigo standing there trying not to laugh and beside him, an extremely pissed off swordsman with red splotches all over his face and a swollen eye*
Voryn: WHAT. HAPPENED?!
Kaidan: *points to inigo* Ask. Him.
Inigo: *snickering* he was flirting with the young lady at the potion shop and taking too long. We promised to meet back here in only a couple hours but itâd be all day at the rate he was going. And when he ignored me reminding him I threw a fungal pod at him.
Kaidan: gobshite.
Inigo: horn dog.
Voryn: *sighs and rubs his temples* just- sit down the 3 of you, order some lunch, a drink or just- do something and donât draw attention to yourselves please. *turns to face wyrm before looking at nerevar* âŚ
Nerevar: *nods and pulls out the note* Heâs upstairs⌠are you sure you want to meet with him?
Wyrm: *takes the letter and looks at it for a moment* has⌠Delphineâs contact turned up yet?âŚ
Nerevar: *shakes his head* not a wood elf to be seen.
Wyrm: *looks back at the letter before nervously taking taliesins hand* I donât know⌠how to address him or what to do?
Taliesin: *smiles and squeezes his hand* Iâll come up with you.
Nerevar: us as well. If he wants to try anything, knowing potential war with morrowind is on the table change his mindâŚ
Wyrm: *nods up at him before letting go of taliesins hand and walking up the stairs, the three following behind him cautious of any potential negative outcomes ahead as he crests the second floor and freezes in place* âŚWow.
Caryalind: *glances up from his book, spotting the unusual dunmer first, then the note in his hand second* Ah I see you got my- *pauses watching as Taliesin steps into view, followed by the head of the 6th house now mourned, and the literal king of morrowind* -Letter.
*a few hours later*
Kaidan: *swelling finally gone down enough for him to see out of his eye again* Theyâre taking too long⌠this whole situations making me uncomfortable.
Inigo: are you sure it is not the rash that is making you uncomfortable?
Kaidan: Iâm being serious inigo. Theyâre up there with the literal son of the dominions overlord. What if he finds out about the soul of lorkhan? Or the fact heâs sotha sils reincarnation?
Inigo: I⌠I know my friend im just trying to lighten the mood. Im sure itâll be okay.
Kaidan: say that to the scars on my bac-
Wyrm: all done! *hops down the steps and bounces over cheerfully* Guys this is Caryalind! Heâll be joining us on our trip!
Kaidan: *looks over and chokes on his ale* fock heâs cute-
Inigo: what was that my friend~?
Caryalind: Ah hello there.
Kaidan: Fock off.
Caryalind: And⌠off to a great start I see. Great.￟
Nerevar: Wyrm, heâs here.
Wyrm: *turns around to see nerevar gesturing in the direction of a wood elf in the corner* oh u-um. C-Caryalind?
Caryalind: *looks at him, then at nerevar, then over at the bosmer, then back at him before it suddenly clicks* Oh- were enacting the plan now? Right- yes-. *follows after Wyrm and nerevar, joining them at the bosmers table*
Wyrm: hi um, our mutual contact sent me.
Malborn: I? You. Youâre the one she sent? Either of your companions here I can understand but you?
Wyrm: y-yeah I get that often.
Malborn: *sighs* fine just- give me whatever you need to sneak into the party okay?
Wyrm: thatâs, kind of the thing though. Thereâs been a change of plans. I wonât need to sneak anything into the embassy because-
Nerevar: *gestures to Caryalind* Well be the ones sneaking, him, in.
*that evening*
Delphine: I cannot believe you! I cannot believe this is actually happening! You railed me to the ground about how much âshame I bring the bladesâ and youâre here working with the literal prince of the al- *shuts up as the point of Nerevars blade touches her throat*
Nerevar: At this point Delphine. I trust him more to keep my son alive. Then I do you. One more word out of your mouth in disagreement and weâre leaving. The whole reason we are here is your paranoia, And your paranoia alone. *pulls his blade back, sheathing it and handing it to voryn*
Voryn: *glares at Delphine before pulling nerevar into a soft kiss* Come back safely⌠Iâll be waiting with the othersâŚ
Nerevar: *nods* Iâll bring him back alive⌠I promise⌠*turns his gaze back to Delphine for a moment* And for your sake⌠Youâll want to hope. Wyrm finds something worthy of you wasting our time⌠*climbs up into the carriage with Caryalind* letâs get goingâŚ
Caryalind: *nods and fixes his cape over Wyrm a little more*
Wyrm: *dressed in his guild armour, downing an invisibility potion, ready and praying heâll survive on his own and wishing Taliesin was with him* teacupâŚ
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Silence, my brother
TES Summerfest 2023 | Day 4 Mortal/Sanctuary Summary: The Night Mother calls upon Kovan, again and again.
Itâs 580 of the Second Era.
Redoran Kovan is 25.
He is sitting on the table by the corner, face obscured by a hat and the shadows. A Tribunal forsaken bar in the worst part of a small town far enough from Aldâruhn that nobody would recognize him.
Still, discretion was best when dealing with unpleasant matters.
Through the door comes a scrawny looking dunmer, about the same age as Kovan, wearing old looking clothes. A middleman for sure, someone who nobody would miss if things went wrong and the necessity to erase any traces of the job came to be. He seemed hungry. Or anxious. Either way Kovan ordered a meat pie for the two of them, for at least it would give the man something else to occupy his mind enough so he would stop looking around and making them look suspicious. Along he asked for a sujamma shot with scrib-jelly, a pleasure he often liked to indulge.Â
Once the manâs stomach had been filled and his mind calmed, he took from his pocket a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to Kovan. Had Redoran Kovan been older, he would have hesitated. He would have questioned the need for such a level of precaution.
He didnât know who the Telvanni he was doing this for was. No name or face attached. Just kill the Redoran Councilor as asked, and Kovan would be rewarded with help getting a higher position on the House hierarchy.Â
Had Redoran Kovan been older and wiser, he would have hesitated at the idea that a faceless and nameless House Telvanni member was hiring his services through a middleman, who knew nothing about the job, whose only purpose was to deliver to him a note with further instructions to murder a Redoran Councilor.
But it was 580 of the Second Era. Kovan was 25 and foolish.
He read the note, drank his shot, and left the bar to do as told.
Itâs 582 of the Second Era.
Kovan is 27.
His hand bears the mark of an exile, and he canât step foot in Morrowind ever again for fear that a Morag Tong spear will pierce his throat in broad daylight. He is hungry, and tired, and sleeping on the streets of Anvil. The Three Banner War is raging on, but he could not care less.Â
He has no money, he canât find food, he is on his breaking point when he decides to break into a nobleâs house.Â
It goes wrong, as it often does. As it did back in Vvanderfell. So he finds himself standing over a body, blood in his hands, a knife on the nobleâs chest. The guards donât see as he flees the scene. They never suspect anything.Â
Itâs 582 of the Second Era
Initiate Kovan is 27.
The guards did not witness his act, but Sithis did.
He wielded the blade in the name of the Dread Father, as the Night Mother demanded.
And as the war and the Daedric Crisis spilled blood all over Tamriel, so did he. A promising assassin, that he was. The contracts kept coming, the streets were painted crimson.
In the Sanctuary he found his family. A new one to fill the hole left by his exile. He helped Hildegard with her lycanthropy. Drank with Kor and Cimbar. Trained with Tanek. Heard Mirabelle and Green-Venom-Tongueâs stories.Â
Until Cimbar was dead on a torture table.
Until Mirabelle was killed by the Black Dragon
Until Green-Venom-Tongue succumbed to his wounds.
He was young, and foolish, and none the wiser.
He couldnât believe his eyes as he watched the memories. As Lyra betrayed the Dark Brotherhood to become the Black Dragon. Kovan understood the pain of losing his family, but the Dread Father ordered the purification, and Sithisâ word was law.Â
They survived. His hands were stained with Lyraâs blood, but what remained of his family was alive.Â
Until the Daedric Crisis finally caught up to him, and with a dagger to the chest, Kovan found himself in Coldharbour.
Itâs 433 of the Third Era.
Kovan thinks he is about 800 years old.
He isnât sure.
Time passes differently in Oblivion.
The first days out of Coldharbour are the hardest. His skin is still returning to its normal dunmer gray. Instead of dead, soulless gray. Eyes are still sunken, but now they are red again, though a bit dull. His hair never went back to being black.
He looks old. He feels old.
Martin understands him. Martin sees him. He can never tell Martin of what he has done through his life, but Martin is aware enough to sympathize with his dark past.
Mehunes Dagon looms over the horizon, haunting every second of their days. Kovan wonât be a hero, but he can help.Â
In Martinâs arms, Kovan finds his redemption.
In his embrace, he finds peace.
In his quest, he finds purpose.
On his death, Kovanâs world crumbles.
The portals are gone. Dagon has been defeated. The statue of a dragon stands in the temple.
Five days later, they find him again.Â
They track him, disturb his sleep, give him the same blade he wielded before.
In the Dark Brotherhood, Kovan finds purpose again.
In the Blade of Woe, he finds the extension of his very being.
In the Sanctuary, he once more finds family.
In the words of the Night Mother, he finds solace.
Itâs 434 of the Third Era
Silencer Kovan no longer cares about how old he is.
The blood of his family drenches his clothes. Their bodies lay cold on the floor. Dead. Every single one.
The Black Hand is no more. Their lives taken by him.
Lucien hangs from the ceiling of Applewatch.
The whispers of the Night Mother echo inside his head. She knew. She recognized him. She called for his soul to work by her side once more.
With negligence and deceit, she recalled the only living person who saw what Lyra went through. She allowed a rat to infiltrate the Brotherhood. She allowed for Kovanâs hand to wield the blade that wiped most of the Brotherhood off the map of Cyrodiil.
It was all planned, of course.Â
Everything went as she wanted.
Kovan screamed into the void that was the night sky. The tears ran down his face, his throat hurt, his voice stopped.Â
With disgust, he held the Blade of Woe in the same hand he used to kill.
With hate, he threw the blade into the sea.
Itâs 201 of the Fourth Era.
Sheogorath walks through the forest that surrounds Falkreath. The mist is dense, the air is heavy.
He approaches the door, runs a scarred hand over the skull that decorates the door.
The whisper is clear inside his mind.
What is the music of life ?
âSilence, my brother.â The Daedric Prince answers.
#tesfest23#oblivion#elder scrolls online#skyrim#sheogorath#oc: kovan#dark brotherhood#prompt: mortal#prompt: sanctuary#fanfic#elder scrolls
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Congratulations! You have recieved a package from ss; an anonymous benefactor who reunites lost things with their loved ones and delivers packages from beyond. - đŠ
-------
Hi, you must be Psy.
I have a delivery for you.
In the box is a black cape. It's something that was forwarded to me from my colleagues in Fontaine. They found it there on the outskirts of the nation, unattended. No name was on it. No one was there. But in one of the pockets, they said that there was a piece of paper in it that had your name and Liyue in it.
Psy, you can take a look for yourself.
I also saw a small letter D scribbed in the corner of the piece of paper containing your name. I imagine that's the sender.
I hope they're alright.
"Azael, do i open it?"
...
"Why must it be so difficult? I try to clear my head and remove the thoughts from my head and yet?"
This was supposed to be a vacation, a reprive and i have gotten none of that.
"I don't want to look at it, i don't want to think about it."
"It's not like h-"
*Knock knock*
"Miss Psyscio? Are you alright, we brought the food you had delivered, or are you still sick?"
"Who- Ah No need to worry Xiangling, I'm alright, you, you can come in."
I will just return it when i am done with this... vacation of mine.
#to whoever sent this im so sorry ut took so long TT#i got smacked by body pains and other irl stuff#psyscio rambles#psy plays ebg#void visitor: đŠ anon#ebg mirage: đŠ anon
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idea for a passenger who just really likes cowboys thats it theres nothing else going on with him
#scribs#infinity train#i put him in the old jumpsuit and stuff bcus i idnt kno wat else to do fr the rest of the fit lol#all of his accessories and stuff are from denizens hes helped out in other cars#his bag is from a car w asteroid people who are all astrophysicists (get it asteroidphysicists lol)#its a quantam sack that can hold TONS of stuff in its own lil pocket dimension basically#the cowboy gear is from an old west car unrelated to the cowbug one#he probably founded or traded for the fingerless gloves somewhere but thts not important#bare chests /
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filbert, youâre driving me mad!! also current in-game me vs what i wanna look like :â)
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Shit I write at mignight and probably will draw if I have the time: The First Council: Reality Show Edition
Interviever: Master Voryn, what are your thoughts on the First Council?
Voryn: My sweet Nerevar is the only good one. He is my sweetest Moon and Star, my beloved, my champion, Azura's most specialest boy who deserves Nirn, a kiss on the cheek, the forehead and a cookie. No more questions.
Interviewer: What about Almalexia?
Voryn: Do not get me started, I respect the grind, the powermoves, the girlboss moments, but taking my Moon and Star? My Sweet Nerevar? Honey you don't even want your mer, don't be greedy. Also the nerve of coming to my House and insult my glam, the only overly dramatic, extra, over compensating thing here are those pauldrons of her, big enough to shelter all of Vvanderfell.
Interviewer: And what about Vivec?
Voryn: That kid's possessed. Azura help him or Boethia take him, Mephala have mercy on him, I don't like him, bad vibes all around, who enters a room and begins talking about how each corner opens a portal to a pocket realm of light beings that demand a kiss for the end of times? I tell you who: Vivec. I don't even want to know what that means.
Interviewer: Sotha Sil?
Voryn: Weird, the most tolerable but I don't trust him. Always staring, nodding, taking notes, never says a word and when he does it depresses me all day. He has murder in his eyes and not in the fun way. Spends all day building machines with clocks, why clocks anyways? Has a cog collection too, found him once at 3 in the morning putting fish on his bread next to scrib jelly and downing it with sujamma.
Interviever: ...Is there someone you like?
Voryn: ... Alandro is fine.
Interviewer: And about the Dwemer?
Voryn: Kagrenac's gangrene sounding name and Dumac's inhability to see the guarshit that goes on in his domainâ
#morrowind#voryn dagoth#almalexia#vivec#sotha sil#indoril nerevar#alandro sul#kagrenac#king dumac#first council#chimer#elder scrolls#pls stop me wtf is wrong with me
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An additional Mei as I avoid actually making a background
#pocket scribs#Lego Monkie Kid#lmk#Mei#Mei Dragon#Mei lmk#lmk Mei#Long Xiaojiao#monkie kid#lmk fanart#lego monkey kid fanart#monkie kid fanart
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Yancy and y/n with "that's a lotta cupcakes"
Yancy's first day of parole.
Tags: @darkstache-iplier @cookieface678 @storm337 @sketchy-scribs-n-doods @pixelenchanter @itsjustkyss @darkiplurrr @darksaceofshadows @moonysmayhem @xpouii @projectwkm @sororia04s @purple-anxiety-blog @rabbitsartcorner @chromacryptid @tried-my-best @skatle-skootle-demon-noodle
Prompt: âThatâs a lot of cupcakes.â
   Yancy took his first step outside the prison wearing brand new clothes; a tight-fitting white t-shirt, blue jeans, and a leather jacket. Gone were the black and white-striped prison uniforms, gone were the shackles, gone were the miniscule prison cells. Yancy had applied for parole and been approved, and now he was a free man.
   And heâd done it all for you.
   You grinned at him as you tugged him along, all but sprinting down the sidewalk and onto the cracked pavement that hadnât been replaced since Yancy had been committed, laughing as Yancy nearly stumbled over the curb in his attempt to keep up.Â
   âHey-â he managed, out of breath, but grinning. âSlow it down, sugar!â
   âBut we have so much to do!â To his massive relief, you reached your car, fumbling in your jacket pocket for your keys. He took the opportunity to peer through the windows, fascinated by the stack of rectangular boxes sitting in your backseat. Every pastel box was stamped with a pastel cupcake sticker. âAre those cupcakes?â
   You nodded, pleased, and finally unlocked the car, motioning for him to get in. âI ordered them a week ago. Theyâre for the party tonight.â
   âThatâs a lotta cupcakes, doll.â Yancyâs grin was easy but his eyes were wide as he got into the passenger seat; itâd probably been a couple decades since he was in a car. âHow many people are we feeding?â
   You put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot. âEverybody.â
   Yancy went quiet, and you knew he was thinking of Bam Bam, and Tiny, and Sparkles McGee, parts of his âeverybodyâ that heâd left behind at Happy Trails Penitentiary.Â
   You reached over the center console and took his hand. âBe happy. Theyâre happy for you. And we can still go visit them.â
   âPromise?â Yancy looked at you, and your heart twisted at the hope in his eyes.
   You squeezed his hand and smiled. âPromise.â
#yancy x reader#yancy#y/n#markiplier egos#writersofmark#fanfiction#ego shipping#lostandwandering#my writing#lost writing tag#writing prompts#fluff#hurt/comfort#asks#lovely anon
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tagged by @aria-i-adagio to find flowers, shell, mirror, in my WIPs!
Tagging @memaidraws , @cumbiazevran, @dumpsterhipster @wild-houseplant and @ollifree for the words: pride (or proud), fire, quiet
Flower(s)
from my Morrowind fic, Hallowed Ground
For many years since, Alsal would know home as the scent of drainwater and wilting roses. It was little more than wishful thinking, a patch of dirt potted on the betel-stained parapet. But they tended to it as they would a child, feeding it crushed scrib and water before they left at dawn and when they staggered back past midnight, fingers bleeding into the damp mud.
When the flowers came in, hardy and lilac, with small petals closed as a tulip or a teardrop, Kaleya held them all in suspended cradles of magic so they hovered beneath the ceiling like living stars.
Alsal had never heard her laugh before. A high, girlish bell-chime of a sound that belonged to somewhere else.
Mirror
Also from an unnamed Morrowind one-shot
âThese are authentic.â Putting down his lenses, Jobasha stared at them. âThis one stands impressed, friend.â
Alsal flashed him a winsome smile. âAnything for you, brother.â
He rolled his eyes, counting out from his cash box. âKeep the sugar. This one has had his fill for the day. Mind the Ordinators on your way past. Jobashaâs should give you no trouble.â
âWhy- oh.â That bitch of an alchemist mustâve tattled.
âI can fuck my way out of that.â
Jobasha snorted. âIf you are certain.â
Alsal paused to check themself in the mirror, considering. âI am.â Serjoâd pay right off his own pockets so he could keep meeting them in austere training quarters where portraits of his Lady wouldnât chide him with baleful eyes. He always looked so sombre when he left, the fetcher, never meeting their eyes but throwing a sheet over them with a half-mumbled âAlmsivi watch over you.â
Justice never sleeps.
They could laugh just thinking of it.
Shell
from a lil gift I'm concocting for @cumbiazevran
âI promised him.â Mesmer whispered. âI promised him Iâll be back.â
MamĂĄ brushed her hair back and pressed a seashell into her palm. âI did, too.â
The shell bit a groove.
Mesmer held itâs emptiness to her ear, sand pooling between her toes.
Her own blood roared like the ocean.
Run, Silvaine.
Just run.
Living was a tightrope with every slip sinking her nails into its fraying notches, every grasping finger of the abyss beneath another scar on her skin, another line of ink to frame her arms, her face, her chest.
But Maker, Mythal, not yet, not now when her feet had just begun to learn solid ground.
Rialto vanished into thin air. Her limbs were spiderwebs of pain.
She woke up sobbing.
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XXX-Mas
Pairing: Max Phillips x F!Reader
Word Count: 4.7k
Rating/Warnings: 18+ SMUT AHOY! Misogynist/sexist names in an office setting, unprotected sex (Especially in December, gift wrap your member!) alcohol mention, blood mention (very briefly.) Enemies to Lovers vibes, because Max is an asshole.
A/N: This came to me months ago when @scribbledghostâ was talking about which of the boys would gift a sexy advent calendar for Christmas. I knew I wanted to have this out during the holidays, so here it is! Thanks for letting me write out my thoughts on it, scribs!
Summary: Max Phillips - Vampire, HR Nightmare, and unfortunately your boss - somehow rigs the office Secret Santa gift exchange.
You shuffled into your bossâ office along with your coworkers, ready for the monthly pep talks he liked to give. His office wasnât small, or at least it didnât seem it until the entire office tried to fit in. You were all gathered on one side while he stood next to the big whiteboard on his wall.
âOkay people,â he addressed the group, making some of them chuckle. It wasnât that good of a pun as far as you were concerned. Vampires were still people. Sort of. âYou know why weâre here.â
He turned his back to write Christmas on the white board. That was not what youâd been expecting.
âWhat do we sell?â He asked the company. Various mumbled answers came in, listing the products you sell, to seduction, to love-
âDreams.â He purred. The few that had answered that way perking up with pride. âWe sell dreams. Whatever it is that theyâre dreaming for - happiness, completion, love,â he winked at you, making you cross your arms over your chest and roll your eyes. âThatâs what we sell. And people are desperate for their dreams to come true at-â he tapped the white board twice with his knuckle. âChristmas.â
âPeople are desperate at Christmas, they get soâŚâ he trailed off, holding his fists up in front of him as he searched for the word. âMaterialistic.â He settled on. âHappiness, love. At Christmas, more than ever, they mean things. These idiots are practically begging to spend money. We just need to convince them to spend it with us. Convince them into thinking that all of their dreams will come true this Christmas, like a fucking Hallmark movie, if only they buy a-â He paused, freezing in place for a second. He looked down, snapping his fingers as he tried to remember.
âScrub daddy.â
âShake weight.â
âPocket Fisherman.â
âFatBurn MXâ
âYes.â Max cut off the chorus of answers coming in from your coworkers. âAll of those.â He seemed disinterested in the actual products, which you figured was true. He couldnât care less what the company sold, as long as it could be sold.
âWe need everyone and their mothers to think the key to a successful Christmas is at their fingertips. Grandma wonât get drunk and spout her racist beliefs. The one theyâve been pining for will finally love them back! No fighting on Christmas.â His voice amped up, wiping a fake tear away and pouting as he mocked all the things people traditionally wanted for Christmas.
âNow, last monthâs sales came in just under 600k.â He turned to the whiteboard, marking down the number. âThatâs not bad, but we can do better.â He paused to glare at Steve, one of the salesmen known for pulling in bad numbers. You didnât feel bad for Steve being singled out. Heâd do better if he actually tried to sell and didnât spend all his time hitting on Suzie or playing solitaire.
âI want to double it.â Max stated, making a few people gape at him. âI know,â he held up his hands, shushing the disbelieving murmurs. âItâs ambitious, but I think we can do it. You know why? Because I believe in all of you.â
You couldnât help but roll your eyes as he tried to work his charm again. âSome of you, more than others, are working so hard.â He paused, tucking a finger under Claraâs chin. She giggled and blushed before he moved on. âAnd I know, you want to make me proud.â He winked at Helen. âPlus, corporate has authorized that if we hit 1 million in sales, we get to throw a Christmas party.â
Cheers of approval echoed through the office, Max clapping and nodding along. âYes, thatâs right! The more we sell, the bigger the budget theyâre going to give us. More food, more drinks.â He chuckled. âSo get out there and sell!â
You watched your coworkers march out of the office like an army ready for battle. You had to hand it to him. He might be an incessant creep, but he could certainly deliver a pep talk.
âWhatâs wrong, sweet cheeks?â He asked, noticing the sour look on your face.
âPretty sure corporate already approved the Christmas party based on the office memo that went out last week.â You challenged, hands on your hips.
âThen I guess Iâm lucky no one reads those, huh?â He teased, bringing a finger up to his lips. âShh, itâll be our dirty little secret.â
âThat is the only dirty little secret I plan on ever sharing with you.â You rolled your eyes.
âWell, Iâm glad youâre willing to be so open about our relationship.â He hummed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. âShall we tell your parents over Christmas dinner.â
âIn your dreams.â You scoffed, swatting his hand away from your face.
âI can assure you, sugar tits, your parents are not involved in my dreams about you⌠but you do call me Daddy sometimes.â
âYouâre disgusting.â You shuddered, turning on your heel to storm out of his office. You could hear him laughing all the way back to your desk.
---
âSecret Santa!â Elaine sang as she rounded your desk, shaking a little bucket in front of her. You looked up at her, holding a finger up for her to wait as you finished a sale. She waited, semi-impatiently, before you hung up the phone.
âWhat is it?â You asked, looking up at the cheerful woman. You would have thought being dead would dampen some of her joie de vivre considering she wasnât exactly vivante anymore.
âSecret Santa!â She repeated in that sing-song voice, holding the basket your way. âThe whole office is playing.â
âOh.â Your eyebrows perked up. You couldnât remember the last time you were part of a secret santa. Sure, there were people at the office you didnât particularly like, but chances were youâd get someone you could stand.
Elaine shook the basket at you and you dug in to grab a piece of paper. âCheck to make sure you didnât get yourself.â
You opened the piece of paper, giving her the clear when you saw that you hadnât picked your own name. Youâd gotten Alan, another salesman who worked a few desks down from you. He was an alright guy, youâd be able to find something for him pretty easily.
Elaine cheered quietly and headed to the next victim. You tucked the piece of paper under your keyboard and got back to work.
No need to get me a present babycakes. Just seeing you around the office in those tight skirts is present enough.
You scoffed, looking up from your monitor. You werenât surprised to see Max staring at you through the open door to his office. He winked when you caught his eye. You glared and typed back furiously
Iâm not getting you anything.
The next message came in almost instantaneous.
Nude? I can work with that.
Youâre disgusting and I'm screenshotting this for HR.
---
The elevator doors opened and you nearly didnât recognize the office. There was tinsel and garlands on all the walls. Greenery seemed to hang from every light on the ceiling. Carols played softly through speakers spaced throughout the office. A Christmas tree was twinkling in the conference room. None of this had been there when you left work earlier today - a half day, on account of the party. You had to hand it to vampires, they could really move when they wanted to.
There was a big red bag opposite the elevators, a sign instructing to put in the secret santa gifts. You dropped in your gift for Alan - a silly mug you thought he would like that said âMondays Suck and So Do Iâ with vampire fangs on it and some fancy candy you overheard him saying he liked - and joined the rest of your coworkers.
You were expecting a lot more resistance to the festivities, but you supposed the free alcohol (paid for from the supposed corporate party budget) was a good enough incentive for everyone to enjoy themselves. You got yourself a drink, knowing that with this group it was likely to run out quickly.
An arm slid around your waist about an hour after you arrived, and you didnât need to look to know who the arm belonged to.
âHaving a good time, sweet cheeks?â He purred, breath tickling your neck from the proximity. Instead of his usual pressed, bespoke suit, Max was wearing a truly garish Christmas jacket. The piece still fit him to perfection, and the material felt expensive as he pressed against you, but the pattern of reds and greens was tackier than any ugly sweater youâd seen at the party so far.
âDonât make me report you to HR again, Max.â You warned cooly.
âPlease,â Max laughed. âI turned Clara last week, she wonât do anything.â
You scoffed, trying to push his arm away from your hip but he wouldnât budge.
âYouâre avoiding my question.â He sang.
âI was, yes.â You spat, but it only made him laugh again.
âBah humbug.â He teased, mimicking your voice with an exaggerated pout. âMaybe a Christmas bonus would turn that frown upside down?â
âYouâre disgusting.â You huffed, turning away from him. It was the most space you could get between the two of you with him holding you firmly in place.
An envelope appeared in your vision. You turned to look at Max, who was watching you, waiting on you to take it.Â
âCongrats, sweetness.â He hummed as you took the envelope from him. âTop sales of the quarter.â
You plucked the envelope from his hands and opened it. Inside the envelope was a cheque, addressed to you from the company. The amount made your eyes bulge.
âMax, this is-â
He cut you off with a click of his tongue. âYou earned it, slugger.â He gave your hip a squeeze before dropping his arm. Before he moved away however, he trailed his nose up your neck. âYou smell fantastic, by the way.â
He was gone, chatting up someone else before you even had a chance to retort. You felt your face heat slightly. Not because of the smell comment, youâd definitely heard that one from him before, but because of the complement of your sales. You were used to Max hitting on you, but an actual compliment on your work ethic was nice to hear. Especially a compliment that came with monetary value.
You shook it off - Max and the pride growing inside your chest - as you decided you needed more alcohol.
You had a pleasant buzz by the time Elaine started rounding everyone up.
âWhoâs ready for Secret Santa?â Elaine sang as she walked through the office. âCome on, everyone!â
You and your coworkers gathered around. There werenât too many groans of annoyance, the punch doing its job of putting everyone in a holly, jolly mood. Youâd had two cups of it yourself - or was it three? Oh no, was it four? You werenât drunk, just not quite as put out to be at work on a Friday night as you had been before.
âIs everyone here?â Elaine asked, turning back and forth to take in the circle that had formed around her in the middle of the room. âExcellent!â She clapped.
You barely had time to wonder where the red bag of presents was when the door to Maxâs office swung open loudly.
âHo, ho, ho!â Max bellowed as he joined the group, sac over his shoulder and red Santa hat on his head both matching his ugly suit. It was nearly funny, if you were being honest. âAnd Iâm not talking about, Suzie.â He teased.Â
Most people chuckled, Suzie included. It was no secret she had slept with a large percentage of the office, male and female. Now that HR was on the side of the devil your boss, you could only assume those kinds of jokes would go unpunished.
Max reached blindly into the bag, pulling out a poorly wrapped gift and reading the name on it. The first present went to Catherine, one of the other humans in the office. She was gifted a nice scarf, no doubt due to the fact that she always whined about how cold the office was.
A few more presents went out, people seeming happy with what they were receiving. People tried to guess who had been their secret santa based on what they got. The wrapping was usually a good indicator as well - a gift stapled into scrunched-up newspaper was likely not from the arts and crafts queen of the office, Mathilde.Â
Max managed to make it about him, joking that he knew his employees well with a wink, even though you all knew he wasnât actually the person who bought the gifts. You almost didnât realize as he was handing you a gift, mostly because he had called you by your actual name and not some pet name for a change.
âThanks.â You mumbled, trying to ignore the sparkle in his eyes. You were sure he was just enjoying being the center of attention as he played Santa. You took the present from him, noticing that it was wrapped immaculately. Your name was scrawled elegantly on the tag. You looked up, trying to notice if anyone seemed particularly interested or excited, but no oneâs face gave anything away.Â
You tore into the paper, watching as the box below was revealed. You flushed as the brand name was revealed on the front of the box - a well known and expensive lingerie brand.
âWell? What is it?â Asked one of the guys on the other side of the room.
âYeah! Letâs see!â
You groaned, thinking about how you hadnât had enough to drink to deal with this, and turned the box so everyone could see. A lingerie advent calendar - â12 days of thrills and frills.â You didnât know if you were mortified or impressed it was actually in your size. Catcalls and whoops rang through the crowd and you wished the floor would just swallow you up.
âThatâs an expensive brand.â Suzie chipped in, âI had my eye on that but Bryan wouldnât buy it for me. Luckily Steve did.â She giggled. âDay 6 was a personal favorite.â
âSanta canât tell if thatâs a naughty or nice present.â Max leered with a laugh. You glared at him, ready to turn the embarrassment into anger directed his way. He must have sensed it as he quickly pulled the next present from the bag. Everyone turned their attention to the new recipient but your hands wouldnât stop shaking, nor would the heat leave your face. You barely held yourself together for a few more presents before quietly slipping away, locking yourself in the bathroom.Â
You stood in the quiet room taking deep breaths and dabbing a cool towel on your face to try and calm down. The box sat on the counter, mocking you. Words like seduction, sexy, and sensual covered the box. It was absolutely humiliating to have gotten that in front of all your coworkers. Honestly, there was only one person you could think of that would have the absolute gall to do something like this.
You left the bathroom, embarrassment flaring into anger once more as you watched Max chat as he crossed the room. He was heading into his office, and that gave you the perfect opportunity to confront him. You stormed in after him, slamming the door shut behind you. The loud noise didnât seem to bother him at all.
âHow did you do it?â You demanded. Max turned to study you, infuriatingly calm, as he took off the santa hat.
âDo what, swee-â
âRig the secret santa! I know this is from you!â You yelled, holding up the gift.Â
âYou donât know that.â He chuckled easily, ignoring your anger. âThatâs why itâs secret Santa.â
âYou are disgusting!â You threw the box at him, your ire only growing as his heightened reflexes let him catch it easily.
âIsnât it rude to regift, sugar tits?â He gibed, looking over the box. âI donât think theyâre my size.â
âHow did you know my size?!â Your voice squeaked as you remembered that yes, if you so desired to try on the frilly, laced panties, they would fit perfectly.
Max tossed the box onto his desk before he held his hands out in front of him, closing an eye and tilting his head. âI have an eye for these kinds of things,â he smirked as he sized you up.
âYou admit it!â You accused, pointing at him.
He gasped dramatically, bringing his hand up to his lips in mock surprise. âOops. Catâs out of the bag.â
âI-I,â you stuttered, body shaking. It felt like flames were licking at the side of your face. âYou are by far the worst boss Iâve ever had the displeasure of working for!â You hissed.
âWell thatâs a little dramatic.â He mocked, rounding his desk.
âI⌠I fucking hate you!â You continued, barely resisting the urge to shove him as he approached you.
âNo you donât.â He chuckled, the sound bubbling from low in his chest.
âYes I do.â You raged, hands shaking with the effort to keep yourself in check.
âOh really?â
In barely the blink of an eye, Max had you pressed up against the wall. The wall that had been at least 5 feet away just a moment before. His hand was on the back of your head, cushioning it from colliding with the drywall, his other arm wrapped around your waist to press you close to his chest.
You gasped, your arms reflexively coming up to cling to him as you tried to catch your balance from the quick movement, your human equilibrium completely destroyed by the sudden movement. One arm was wrapped around Maxâs shoulders while your other hand was fisted in that awful holiday jacket he was wearing.
âSeems like you hate me,â he drawled sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.
âFuck you.â You spat, although the shock of being moved across the room had taken some of the venom out of your voice.
âGladly.â You felt his smirk as his lips pressed harshly to yours. You hummed in surprise at the forceful contact. The arm around his shoulders slid down to his chest, fully intending to push him off⌠all you had to do was push⌠just a little shove⌠why were you kissing him back?
The kiss was rough, all of your pent up anger over the months of inappropriate behaviour guiding you. Your teeth clicked against his as your tongues battled for dominance. He bit your bottom lip, making you gasp and moan. He moaned deeply in return when the coppery taste of blood infiltrated the kiss.
He crowded you against the wall, your bodies pressing together from knee to chest. You could feel his firm muscles under his shirt moving as his hands explored your body. He gripped your hips tightly, your skin tingling with a delicious sting.
���Max,â you moaned against his lips. You were sure you meant to say his name forcefully, more as a warning, but your resolve was almost entirely faded at this point.
He responded by releasing your hips to push your skirt up your legs. He pressed his leg between yours, your breath stuttering as his thigh pressed against your center. You could feel his own desire grinding at your hip.
You threaded your fingers through his infuriatingly perfect hair, surprised at how soft it was. Between being undead, and how coiffed it usually was, you werenât expecting it to be so silky to the touch. You tugged gently on the strands, making Max groan into your mouth.
There was a sudden ripping sound. It took until the sting settled in your skin for you to realize he had just ripped off your panties. You shivered as the cool air reached your flushed skin, not to mention the reminder of just how strong Max was. He had ripped the fabric clean off your body without even trying. Your hips bucked against his leg, whimpering into his mouth. You needed more.
His fingers parted your lips, making you gasp at how unnaturally cold they felt. Your head fell back against the wall as he explored, spreading your wetness. You panted, trying to catch your breath as his fingers circled your clit.
âFuck.â He groaned. âSo wet. And warm.â He praised as he leaned in, nuzzling your neck. You jolted, a small part of your brain still fearing the vampiric side of the man currently fingering you. He chuckled, low and dark, as he licked the exposed skin of your collarbone.
âDonât worry. I already ate.â He teased, but nipped your skin nonetheless. He didnât bite hard enough to break the skin, just enough to prove his restraint.
âYouâre an ass.â You huffed.
He hummed noncommittally as he kissed along the neckline of your dress. He pinched your clit, making you jolt against him with a loud moan. You immediately released his hair to slap a hand over your mouth. You didnât need your coworkers hearing what was happening.
Max laughed gleefully, rubbing himself against you as his fingers moved to probe at your entrance. His cool fingers entering you sent a chill through your whole body. You rocked your hips as he pushed in and out, your hip grinding into his erection.
A growl from Max was the only warning you had before you were suddenly transported across the room again. You gasped, trying to gain your bearings as he bent you forward over his desk. âStop doing that!â You growled. Your core ached from the loss of his fingers. You gripped the edge of the desk for balance, and to attempt to control yourself.
âIâm not sorry,â he sassed as you heard him unbuckle his belt. âIâm impatient. Youâre lucky I waited this long.â
âWell hurry the fuck up then.â You demanded, rocking back to press your ass against him.
âShit-â he hissed, flipping your skirt up and out of the way to watch your bare ass wiggle and grind into him. You heard him groan at the sight, enjoying it for a moment until he moved away. His hands bumped into you as he finished removing his pants.
His cock pressed between your legs, hard and thick. He thrust slowly, letting it glide through your lips. You groaned impatiently at the unsatisfying drag, writhing your hips in an attempt to tempt him further. It worked, his thick head notching against you. You bit your lip as you felt him press forward.
You almost didnât hear his groan over your own as you adjusted to the stretch. It was incredible. He paused for the briefest moment, collecting himself before he pulled back.
He thrust into you hard. You couldnât stop the cry that escaped from your chest as your eyes bulged. His hands gripped your hips as he snapped forward, your whole body swaying with the effort. You knew the fronts of your hips would have bruises where they connected with his desk by the time he was done. You couldnât be bothered to mind.
You whined and moaned as he fucked you, hands scrambling over his desk as the tendrils of pleasure sparked through your body. You started pushing back, meeting his thrusts. The sounds of skin on skin echoed through the small room, mingling with the wet sounds of his deep thrusts.
âSo tight-â He groaned, his voice wavering. âKnew youâd have the perfect pussy.â
âGod, shut up.â You begged. You hated him, but mostly you hated how good this felt. Max Phillips talked a big game so you half expected him to be all bark and no bite (figuratively speaking. As a Vampire, you knew he had bite.)
His hand was around your neck, pulling you to stand against him. You gasped and moaned as it changed the angle of his thrusts. You honestly couldnât tell if your eyes closed or rolled back in your head as sparks of pleasure surged.
âGod, even with my cock deep inside you, youâre still feisty.â He growled into your ear.
All you could do was whimper. The pleasure was too much. His voice was too much. His hold on you was too much.
âYeah, that shut you up.â He gloated, licking the shell of your ear. He tightened his hand, not fully cutting off your air supply, but warning you what a vulnerable position you were in. Your walls clenched around him, making him chuckle gleefully.
âOoooh, she likes it.â
âI told you to shut up.â You breathed, stuttering in your attempt to get the demanding words out in spite of the pleasure rolling through you.
His hand tightened. You struggled to breathe. Your hands shot up to grip the hand cutting off your air, purely out of reflex. Your vision turned white as you came. Hard.
Max groaned, a long drawn out sound as he felt you cum around him. He kept the hold on your neck for a few seconds before releasing you. You fell back to the desk, gasping for air between the lack of breath and the powerful shocks racking your body. You could hear yourself moaning wantonly as your body spasmed.
Max gripped the desk beside your hips. He pistoned into you, chasing his own release as he felt your body squeeze him. You could hear him muttering quietly, but you couldnât make out the words. Blood was rushing in your ears. Skin slapping skin. Splintering wood. All you could do was whimper and take it, feeling your orgasm stretch on as he fucked into you.
He finally seized up behind you, stilling with his hips pressed flush against you, cock buried as deep as it could. You werenât sure if the noise he made was more of a moan or a roar as he filled you. It was warm, a startling contrast to the coolness of his body even after his exertion.
He collapsed, his chest to your back, bracing himself with an arm against the desk over your shoulder. He was panting behind you as your breath just started to return to you.
âHoly shit.â He laughed, his voice airy and amused. Not a tone you were used to from him. It almost made him sound human. Not even in a ânot a vampireâ way, but more like ânot a smarmy assholeâ kind of way.
You didnât know how to respond. Your own mind swirling as everything that just happened came back to you. Your boss, the one person you hated most in your every-day life, had just fucked you senseless. With all your coworkers one room over no less. And if you were being honest with yourself, youâd do it again in a heartbeat.
Max pulled out of you, making your toes curl in your heels. You were surprised they were still on. Evidence of the encounter dripped down your inner thighs. You were about to stand when his hand pressed lightly between your shoulder blades, holding you down. Something silky trailed up your thighs and over your sensitive skin. You flinched, despite the gentle touch.
âStay.â He ordered, the fabric between your thighs and the hand on your back disappearing. Something fell to his desk beside your head. You turned to see the pocket square heâd been wearing, bunched up and covered in your combined juices. That must have been what you felt cleaning you.
His hand was on your ankle, lifting it. You obeyed the silent request feeling your foot slip through something. He repeated it with your other leg. Soon, he was sliding panties up over your hips. The lacy fabric was soft as it hugged your ass. You could feel the lower half exposed, a cheeky style of panty. He caressed your ass, obviously admiring the sight before him, before a sharp slap landed on your cheek. You jolted against the unexpected sting. He laughed, pulling your skirt back down over your legs.
You stood, trying to keep your balance despite your legs being a little shaky. You didnât want to give him the satisfaction of seeing just how fucked out you were. He handed you the damned advent calendar that started this whole encounter. The first little window had been opened and was now empty. That explained the lacy panties currently hiding under your dress.
Max smirked at you, the same smarmy grin that he always wore when he wanted to get under your skin. However, the mussed hair, the wrinkled suit, the kiss swollen lips and the sated, relaxed edge to the grin all made the look a little less annoying than usual.
âOn Monday, you can show me whatâs behind door number two.â
Tagging: @wickedfrsgrlâ @din-damn-djarinâ
#Max Phillips x Reader#Max Phillips imagine#Max Phillips fic#Bloodsucking Bastards fanfic#Max Phillips x F!Reader#Pedro Pascal Character fanfiction#Dirty Writings#Lemony Fresh#WookieTales
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Around an hour a two later, Or 3 days in Scribbly's world, Another note fell to someone else's feet.. That someone happened to be..
Scribs themself! They definitely were not expecting a note today, I mean, who even sends notes anymore? Well pretty much nobody in her world, thatâs for sure.
âHmm, I donât think anyone I know couldâve sent this. Oh no, this mustâve gone to the wrong person! And all the important stuff is blurred too, thatâs a weird coincidence..â
âThis doesnât feel right. This feels almost like some weird, twisted foreshadowingâŚâ
Scribbly decided, just for now, to stick the note in their coat pocket. And maybe eventually theyâll find out who itâs from, or who itâs for, or actually just anything about it honestly.
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Was gonna post the scribs for part 26, but then realized. Spoilers. So have some friends part 25, written with a pocket pen. It little!
#nara's drafts#fountain pen#fountain pen geeks#fountain pen network#LBitR#now I go to sleep#IDGAF what 7 cups of coffee say
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