#fuzzy companion (werewolf!baker)

[wilfordsbakingshop]

Winter was the best and worst of both worlds. More hours of darkness meant he could venture out a little further than usual without the constant threat of the sun coming up too soon. But the cold was horrific. Already a beast without any blood, the little left inside of him freezes into solid packs of snow. It’s why he seeks out fires, candles that burn inches from his skin for something warm.

This year..he has an assistant for once. Someone warm, more than the average human. Blood that satiated him more than anything and a person he can cuddle with. Only trouble was trying to find him the labyrinth of the manor.

@murdersinthemaking

Winter was always a messy time for him. Two sides fought for control, causing more turmoil in his already struggle-filled life. On one hand, he wished to prepare, get himself ready for the months of snow and cold, start prepping meals and a nest that would be warm enough to thaw out even the iciest of beings. And the other side... wished to rest. Sleep. Go out and play in the snow, before curling up by the fire.

So much to do. And yet, it was as if he couldn't start any of it. All he could do was sit here, by the window, watching the endlessly cloudy sky. Wishing he could just... do something. Find the ability to do something.

[littledragondork]

I got a few!! My personal fav of the bunch is my Werewolf Khajiit Ts'vari! She's a Cathay raht werewolf and an ex member of the companions as well as ex member of the dawnguard. She was found by some farmers as a cub after her caravan was attacked by werewolves, she survived but not before being infected with lycanthropy. Ts'vari was raised by the farmers who found her and they all worked hard to make sure she would take control in her transformations. In her free time she is a gardener and a florist as well as a work partner with my vampire oc Illile.

To add on, Illile is my ancient dunmer vampire lord OCs, they are VERY old to the point they can't even remember their own birthday or age, they remember being a chimer but it was when they were a small child and its very fuzzy for them. They survived by staying low, not being too greedy (didn't always work) and moving around constantly to stay out of public eye. Their main form of cover up is working as a baker and making a variety of pastries, they also sell special pastries made from blood (replacement for eggs) for vampire clients. They are a very well practiced mage and joined the Volkihar clan temporarily as a plan with Ts'vari to bring them down as a "guy on the inside".

The two met when Ts'vari was on the hunt for vampires and Illile begged and promised to help her with whatever she wants in exchange for their life. Ts'vari not really expecting the, what she was told would be a "heartless and bloodthirsty killer" to look so weak and pathetic, agreed against her better judgment. The two became friends the more they worked together, though Ts'vari still doesnt trust Illile as much as Illile trusts Ts'vari.

My fellow Elder Scrolls oc havers, PLEASE tell me in the tags/reblogs about your non-DB/HOK/Nerevarine ocs. Tell me about your Just Some Guy, your guild member/master, your secret third thing. I wanna hear about them all!!!

(bonus points if you reblog with art)

[wilfordsbakingshop]

It’s a quiet village, far from the recesses of most of humanity. Occupied by only a few dozen people, mostly human. Ruled over by a lord, hidden away in a castle nearly every single day. Emerging only as the sun sets, causing rumours to spread like the plague throughout the town. Those who spread it never make it longer than a year.

It’s another night, and he’s starving. Practically able to smell the blood rushing through everyone in the sleeping village. Not yet..he has to wait. He can’t keep claiming victims, not at the size of the village. He’ll have to travel eventually, try and find new meat.

Wandering through the darkness, he can see a few glowing candles still lit. Someone up at this hour? It’s some sort of shop, and he knocks. Waiting for an invite in.

@murderinthemaking

Another day, and another lovely night ahead.

Wilford rolled out the small bit of pie dough he had left, determined to make the most out it. Even if it ended up just being his own personal pie, a reward for his work today, he wouldn't let this go to waste.

The light was soft, the sky dark outside. All except for his shop. Not that he exactly had anywhere better to go. What, upstairs? To sleep in the chill of the attic? Not yet. Not the warmth of the bakery was so... warm.

He nearly misses it at first. Everyone was asleep, no? He would've thought that most people would've passed out, or be in their homes, scared of the legends that spread around the village. He was never one for fear of course. For many reasons. But that still didn't answer his question. Who was knocking at his door?

"Come in!" He calls to the mystery person.

[wilfordsbakingshop]

While he’s been gladly entertaining Wilford, Donovan hasn’t even thought of food. Enjoying the scent of his blood so much, he forgets entirely about his own feedings. Originally planning on trying to meet the beast again, but caught up with spending time with his human. Not even having the chance to go out to the village and get a quick meal.

It’s been three weeks since he last fed, and Donovan’s surprised he’s still on his feet. Stumbling about the castle most of the time. Occasionally he wanders to the cellar, debasing himself by licking up the dried blood on the stones.

Lying across one of the couches, he can just about keep his eyes open. Starving horribly, cheekbones visible.

@murderinthemaking

Wilford runs frantically about the kitchen. Going back and forth between the pot of boiling soup, and the pies baking in the oven. He couldn't let either one burn.

He's been so caught up in spending time with the Lord that he forgot to do the one thing he's brought him here for: Cook food.

He could only imagine how hungry he must be. He didn't know what vampires are, but as a werewolf, he still needed to consume food. His poor Lord had been starving for he didn't even know he long.

He looks down at his wrist, the bandage he's out on seeping with red. Wilford had put an extra special ingredient into the Lord's food. The reason the soup was dark red, and the pies crust had turned slightly purple. And why he felt slightly loopy as he ran about.

"My Lord, your meal is almost done!" He called out. Trying his best to cook as quickly as possible.

[wilfordsbakingshop]

When he has permission, he comes into the room. Carrying the Lord's food on a giant tray. He's been doing better at making 2 meals per week like he suggested. Each one having a healthy amount of blood in them. It seemed to be working, as the color was slowly sleeping back into his face. His Lord was healthy. That's all that mattered.

He places it down in front of him, before lifting the cover.

Tonight's meal seemed to be a pasta. Spaghetti to be specific. It was the easiest way he could think to hide the blood he'd put in there. Honestly... He was too tired to try and think of anything else.

"For you, my Lord."

"Uhm, my Lord... I have some food for you."

Miraculously, it's as if the cut on Wilfords hand never healed. Seemingly always gaping, bandage always stained red. And all of the Lord's food had a hint of his blood in it.

It had it's affects. Every once in a while, he'd have the sudden urge to take a nap. Or he fell down the stairs that he had no trouble getting down before.

But it was worth it. If his Lord was fed, he was happy.

Just from the few meals he’s eaten from Wilford, it’s like his hunger has disappeared entirely. Putting it down to the accidental contamination in the soup and pie still working it’s magic. Whatever this humans blood was made of, it’s been the only thing to satiate his hunger for long.

Though…he can’t help but worry. Noticing the constant wound on him, it makes his mind wander. What if he knew? No…he’s hid it wonderfully. There can’t be a way, he must just think the blood helps him in another way. Able to walk around again, but still worried when he sees Wilford disappear for a few days at a time. The thud he’s heard down the stairs frightens him, wondering what he’s been doing to himself.

“Come on in my darling!” Colour is actually in his face for once, a light pink covering his cheeks for once. Donovan happily lounges in one of the tea rooms, waiting for his human.

[wilfordsbakingshop]

"Yes, I do! You said you wanted something musical, yes?" He reaches under the counter again, and pulls out a larger booklet. This one was full of designs. Anything you could think of, it was here. And if it wasn't, then he'd make it anyway.

Flipping through the pages, he makes it to the dedicated music section. "Turnable... Guitar... Drum set... Ah! Piano!"

He flips the book towards her. The design is hand-drawn. A sheet cake made to look like a piano.

Maria had the tendency to be set in her ways. If she found a store or restaurant she liked, she would visit those few places exclusively. She was always incredibly busy with rehearsals, piano lessons, and the like that she wasn't the best at venturing out of her comfort zone.

But there was a small bakery that caught her attention a couple of times before, when she was hurrying off to the next thing. But now, she was seeking it out on purpose. Entering through the door, she takes a look around at the interior. She couldn't help but smile. It was hard not to when everything was so brightly colored.

@mariasymphony

DING!

The bell above the door rings, and Wilford is brought out of his own little bubble. Half way through frosting a cupcake when it happens. A customer!

He carefully sets the bag down atop the counter, and wipes his hands on his apron, before stepping out from the back, signature smile on his face.

Woah.

Hes taken aback for a moment... wow. She certainly was pretty, wasn't she? Not in a creeper way. In a "You look absolutely fabulous, and you know it" kind of way. What was someone like her doing in his shop? Shouldn't she be in Hollywood?

"Welcome to Wilford Warfstaches Sweets Emporium. I'm Wilford, how may I help you?"

[wilfordsbakingshop]

All of Wilfords ears perk up. Both the human ones, and the wolf ones resting on top of his head. Snapping out of his funk, he's met with his love. The one who gave him the ability to ponder at a window in the first place, and so much more.

"Oh, my dear, I thought you were still out." He tilts his head to the side, allowing Donovan to rest his head on his shoulder. His heartbeat speeds up from his mere presence. There were days that he couldn't believe the Lord had given him such affection. He truly was the luckiest beast it the whole world.

"I'm sorry I've worried you. Truly, I didn't mean to."

Winter was the best and worst of both worlds. More hours of darkness meant he could venture out a little further than usual without the constant threat of the sun coming up too soon. But the cold was horrific. Already a beast without any blood, the little left inside of him freezes into solid packs of snow. It’s why he seeks out fires, candles that burn inches from his skin for something warm.

This year..he has an assistant for once. Someone warm, more than the average human. Blood that satiated him more than anything and a person he can cuddle with. Only trouble was trying to find him the labyrinth of the manor.

@murdersinthemaking

Winter was always a messy time for him. Two sides fought for control, causing more turmoil in his already struggle-filled life. On one hand, he wished to prepare, get himself ready for the months of snow and cold, start prepping meals and a nest that would be warm enough to thaw out even the iciest of beings. And the other side... wished to rest. Sleep. Go out and play in the snow, before curling up by the fire.

So much to do. And yet, it was as if he couldn't start any of it. All he could do was sit here, by the window, watching the endlessly cloudy sky. Wishing he could just... do something. Find the ability to do something.

[wilfordsbakingshop]

"Ah ah, I insist. Even if it's just a fur. Find something. I refuse to let you go cold." Even if the Lord didn't find something, Wilford would still find a way to bring him warmth. If it meant sitting on his shoulders, so be it. But there would be no freezing. Not on his watch.

Wilford leads both himself and Donovan to the coat closet, grabbing one of the garments. He wasn't picky. They wouldn't be out for too long anyway. He simply wished to grab enough apples to preserve, at least until winter was over.

Winter was the best and worst of both worlds. More hours of darkness meant he could venture out a little further than usual without the constant threat of the sun coming up too soon. But the cold was horrific. Already a beast without any blood, the little left inside of him freezes into solid packs of snow. It’s why he seeks out fires, candles that burn inches from his skin for something warm.

This year..he has an assistant for once. Someone warm, more than the average human. Blood that satiated him more than anything and a person he can cuddle with. Only trouble was trying to find him the labyrinth of the manor.

@murdersinthemaking

Winter was always a messy time for him. Two sides fought for control, causing more turmoil in his already struggle-filled life. On one hand, he wished to prepare, get himself ready for the months of snow and cold, start prepping meals and a nest that would be warm enough to thaw out even the iciest of beings. And the other side... wished to rest. Sleep. Go out and play in the snow, before curling up by the fire.

So much to do. And yet, it was as if he couldn't start any of it. All he could do was sit here, by the window, watching the endlessly cloudy sky. Wishing he could just... do something. Find the ability to do something.

[wilfordsbakingshop]

There wasn't any real need for him to change. He could simply shift, and they could be on their way. However, just this once, he wished to remain human for this outting. Which meant having to dress a tad bit warmer.

"For you, my love." For the first time in hours, Wilford leaves the window sill, groaning as he stretches out his legs. "Though you should dress warm as well. I don't want you freezing up, or catching a sickness."

Winter was the best and worst of both worlds. More hours of darkness meant he could venture out a little further than usual without the constant threat of the sun coming up too soon. But the cold was horrific. Already a beast without any blood, the little left inside of him freezes into solid packs of snow. It’s why he seeks out fires, candles that burn inches from his skin for something warm.

This year..he has an assistant for once. Someone warm, more than the average human. Blood that satiated him more than anything and a person he can cuddle with. Only trouble was trying to find him the labyrinth of the manor.

@murdersinthemaking

Winter was always a messy time for him. Two sides fought for control, causing more turmoil in his already struggle-filled life. On one hand, he wished to prepare, get himself ready for the months of snow and cold, start prepping meals and a nest that would be warm enough to thaw out even the iciest of beings. And the other side... wished to rest. Sleep. Go out and play in the snow, before curling up by the fire.

So much to do. And yet, it was as if he couldn't start any of it. All he could do was sit here, by the window, watching the endlessly cloudy sky. Wishing he could just... do something. Find the ability to do something.

[wilfordsbakingshop]

Well, shit, he had a point. The Lord decided what was best. And that meant if he decided Wilfords bed was the best, then he should have it. "If you wish to be with me in my bed, then by no means will I turn you away." It also meant more cuddles. And he would never say no to cuddles, especially in the winter.

"Donovan... would you like to go out with me? I wish to collect apples before it becomes too cold for them to grow any longer. I would go by myself, but... I'd rather do it with you."

Winter was the best and worst of both worlds. More hours of darkness meant he could venture out a little further than usual without the constant threat of the sun coming up too soon. But the cold was horrific. Already a beast without any blood, the little left inside of him freezes into solid packs of snow. It’s why he seeks out fires, candles that burn inches from his skin for something warm.

This year..he has an assistant for once. Someone warm, more than the average human. Blood that satiated him more than anything and a person he can cuddle with. Only trouble was trying to find him the labyrinth of the manor.

@murdersinthemaking

Winter was always a messy time for him. Two sides fought for control, causing more turmoil in his already struggle-filled life. On one hand, he wished to prepare, get himself ready for the months of snow and cold, start prepping meals and a nest that would be warm enough to thaw out even the iciest of beings. And the other side... wished to rest. Sleep. Go out and play in the snow, before curling up by the fire.

So much to do. And yet, it was as if he couldn't start any of it. All he could do was sit here, by the window, watching the endlessly cloudy sky. Wishing he could just... do something. Find the ability to do something.

[wilfordsbakingshop]

Wilford still found it tragic how the Lord would truly never see the sun again. Yes, he could see it... but he'd never feel that warmth again. Or that feeling of warmed grass. Or watch the clouds go by. He had Wilford, who could provide a fraction of that experience for him, but... that was it. Wilford couldn't do the sun justice.

"My bed? But... but you're the Lord of the land. You deserve the best bed in the castle." Wilford would've loved nothing more than to lay with Donovan in his bed. But... he wasn't worthy. At least not in his eyes. He was still just a baker from the village.

Winter was the best and worst of both worlds. More hours of darkness meant he could venture out a little further than usual without the constant threat of the sun coming up too soon. But the cold was horrific. Already a beast without any blood, the little left inside of him freezes into solid packs of snow. It’s why he seeks out fires, candles that burn inches from his skin for something warm.

This year..he has an assistant for once. Someone warm, more than the average human. Blood that satiated him more than anything and a person he can cuddle with. Only trouble was trying to find him the labyrinth of the manor.

@murdersinthemaking

Winter was always a messy time for him. Two sides fought for control, causing more turmoil in his already struggle-filled life. On one hand, he wished to prepare, get himself ready for the months of snow and cold, start prepping meals and a nest that would be warm enough to thaw out even the iciest of beings. And the other side... wished to rest. Sleep. Go out and play in the snow, before curling up by the fire.

So much to do. And yet, it was as if he couldn't start any of it. All he could do was sit here, by the window, watching the endlessly cloudy sky. Wishing he could just... do something. Find the ability to do something.

[wilfordsbakingshop]

"I feel I worry the right amount, thank you." Such a wound from the sun, he felt as if he had the right to fret over him. As much as he wished he could see the sun, for it to hurt Donovan like this... it simply wasn't worth it.

"Perhaps... but... It would be a bit cramped, no?" Yes, a casket would mean no sunlight. But also, not very spacious. One wrong roll meant hitting the side of the thing. And also... Wilford wouldn't be able to see him until he woke up. No cuddles.

Winter was the best and worst of both worlds. More hours of darkness meant he could venture out a little further than usual without the constant threat of the sun coming up too soon. But the cold was horrific. Already a beast without any blood, the little left inside of him freezes into solid packs of snow. It’s why he seeks out fires, candles that burn inches from his skin for something warm.

This year..he has an assistant for once. Someone warm, more than the average human. Blood that satiated him more than anything and a person he can cuddle with. Only trouble was trying to find him the labyrinth of the manor.

@murdersinthemaking

Winter was always a messy time for him. Two sides fought for control, causing more turmoil in his already struggle-filled life. On one hand, he wished to prepare, get himself ready for the months of snow and cold, start prepping meals and a nest that would be warm enough to thaw out even the iciest of beings. And the other side... wished to rest. Sleep. Go out and play in the snow, before curling up by the fire.

So much to do. And yet, it was as if he couldn't start any of it. All he could do was sit here, by the window, watching the endlessly cloudy sky. Wishing he could just... do something. Find the ability to do something.

[wilfordsbakingshop]

Oh, right, vampires. His silly memory, making him forget even the simplest of things. He leans into the touch of his love, activity seeking more. Both his dog-instinct, and just the fact that he enjoyed being given affection.

"Not yet... I've been thinking about it though." Thinking for a few hours. It was just getting up that was the problem. Burying himself further into the furs, he looks at his love, and concern makes itself known on his features. "Oh dear, are you alright? Did the sun get you that bad?" He reaches out, holding his head in his hands.

Winter was the best and worst of both worlds. More hours of darkness meant he could venture out a little further than usual without the constant threat of the sun coming up too soon. But the cold was horrific. Already a beast without any blood, the little left inside of him freezes into solid packs of snow. It’s why he seeks out fires, candles that burn inches from his skin for something warm.

This year..he has an assistant for once. Someone warm, more than the average human. Blood that satiated him more than anything and a person he can cuddle with. Only trouble was trying to find him the labyrinth of the manor.

@murdersinthemaking

Winter was always a messy time for him. Two sides fought for control, causing more turmoil in his already struggle-filled life. On one hand, he wished to prepare, get himself ready for the months of snow and cold, start prepping meals and a nest that would be warm enough to thaw out even the iciest of beings. And the other side... wished to rest. Sleep. Go out and play in the snow, before curling up by the fire.

So much to do. And yet, it was as if he couldn't start any of it. All he could do was sit here, by the window, watching the endlessly cloudy sky. Wishing he could just... do something. Find the ability to do something.

[wilfordsbakingshop]

"Well, if you wish to keep the curtains... then I'll fix them myself. I'll learn how to sew, and make sure that this won't happen again." It was a large claim, considering how Wilford could barely manage to sew his own clothes together, but if it was for Donovan, then he'd at least try. He didn't want his love to be in pain out of something he could fix.

His thumbs run across the apples of his cheeks, and he leans forward, placing a gentle kiss upon his forehead. "I'm sorry you had to be woken up like that... had I known, I would've stopped it before it reached you."

Winter was the best and worst of both worlds. More hours of darkness meant he could venture out a little further than usual without the constant threat of the sun coming up too soon. But the cold was horrific. Already a beast without any blood, the little left inside of him freezes into solid packs of snow. It’s why he seeks out fires, candles that burn inches from his skin for something warm.

This year..he has an assistant for once. Someone warm, more than the average human. Blood that satiated him more than anything and a person he can cuddle with. Only trouble was trying to find him the labyrinth of the manor.

@murdersinthemaking

Winter was always a messy time for him. Two sides fought for control, causing more turmoil in his already struggle-filled life. On one hand, he wished to prepare, get himself ready for the months of snow and cold, start prepping meals and a nest that would be warm enough to thaw out even the iciest of beings. And the other side... wished to rest. Sleep. Go out and play in the snow, before curling up by the fire.

So much to do. And yet, it was as if he couldn't start any of it. All he could do was sit here, by the window, watching the endlessly cloudy sky. Wishing he could just... do something. Find the ability to do something.

[wilfordsbakingshop]

With what he assumes is his permission, Wilford rises off of the ground. The leg on which he knelt on was slightly dirtier than the other. Maybe he could sweep as his pie baked. Wouldn't do any harm to clean up some more. "I should... But I just can't find it in me to sleep."

The place was small, at least compared to the Lord. Each table had a small candle on it, the wax a light pink. In fact, there were traces of light pink everywhere. From the door the Lord had walked in through, to the seating on the tables. A vast contrast to the seemingly endless dark place. Even Wilford's uniform was pink. Though that was from a food dye incident, and not his own hand.

"Oh, I make sweets. Cakes, pies, sweet breads. Anything. I try my very best, my Lord."

It’s a quiet village, far from the recesses of most of humanity. Occupied by only a few dozen people, mostly human. Ruled over by a lord, hidden away in a castle nearly every single day. Emerging only as the sun sets, causing rumours to spread like the plague throughout the town. Those who spread it never make it longer than a year.

It’s another night, and he’s starving. Practically able to smell the blood rushing through everyone in the sleeping village. Not yet..he has to wait. He can’t keep claiming victims, not at the size of the village. He’ll have to travel eventually, try and find new meat.

Wandering through the darkness, he can see a few glowing candles still lit. Someone up at this hour? It’s some sort of shop, and he knocks. Waiting for an invite in.

@murderinthemaking

Another day, and another lovely night ahead.

Wilford rolled out the small bit of pie dough he had left, determined to make the most out it. Even if it ended up just being his own personal pie, a reward for his work today, he wouldn't let this go to waste.

The light was soft, the sky dark outside. All except for his shop. Not that he exactly had anywhere better to go. What, upstairs? To sleep in the chill of the attic? Not yet. Not the warmth of the bakery was so... warm.

He nearly misses it at first. Everyone was asleep, no? He would've thought that most people would've passed out, or be in their homes, scared of the legends that spread around the village. He was never one for fear of course. For many reasons. But that still didn't answer his question. Who was knocking at his door?

"Come in!" He calls to the mystery person.

[wilfordsbakingshop]

"Heh, I suppose so."

Something tells him that he shouldn't be speaking to a Lord like this. That he'll get in major trouble to speaking too casually to someone with such high power. Though again, he wasn't the type to be easily scared. If anything, he saw it as a chance to make a connection. A chance to make a friend.

"Yes, it's mostly just me... a few people come in every now and again, but it's always the same people. Though sometimes I can't even rely on that." Many of his customers had vanished, never to be seen again. He always just assumed they went into the forest, but even when he searched, there was nothing.

When he notices the flask, his eyes go wide "Oh, I apologize, I haven't even offered you something to drink! Um... Would tea do?"

It’s a quiet village, far from the recesses of most of humanity. Occupied by only a few dozen people, mostly human. Ruled over by a lord, hidden away in a castle nearly every single day. Emerging only as the sun sets, causing rumours to spread like the plague throughout the town. Those who spread it never make it longer than a year.

It’s another night, and he’s starving. Practically able to smell the blood rushing through everyone in the sleeping village. Not yet..he has to wait. He can’t keep claiming victims, not at the size of the village. He’ll have to travel eventually, try and find new meat.

Wandering through the darkness, he can see a few glowing candles still lit. Someone up at this hour? It’s some sort of shop, and he knocks. Waiting for an invite in.

@murderinthemaking

Another day, and another lovely night ahead.

Wilford rolled out the small bit of pie dough he had left, determined to make the most out it. Even if it ended up just being his own personal pie, a reward for his work today, he wouldn't let this go to waste.

The light was soft, the sky dark outside. All except for his shop. Not that he exactly had anywhere better to go. What, upstairs? To sleep in the chill of the attic? Not yet. Not the warmth of the bakery was so... warm.

He nearly misses it at first. Everyone was asleep, no? He would've thought that most people would've passed out, or be in their homes, scared of the legends that spread around the village. He was never one for fear of course. For many reasons. But that still didn't answer his question. Who was knocking at his door?

"Come in!" He calls to the mystery person.