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rinixo · 1 year

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sulfur and granite

Din Djarin/Reader | 2.7k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, Jealous Din Djarin, smut, piv sex, semi-intense consensual sex, aftercare.

On a short detour to Tattooine, you are introduced to the Marshal. Mando is definitely not jealous.

–

Non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi.

a/n: I imagine Mando would not know how to comfortably express feelings of jealousy/possessiveness right away, but ultimately would be respectful towards his partner's desires.

read on ao3

You weren’t sure what planet you’d choose if you had to pick your favorite, but you were fairly certain that Tattooine wouldn’t even make your top ten. You had only been there a few times, and each time you had left with an uncomfortable amount of sand in an uncomfortable amount of places. The only redeeming quality in your eyes were the brilliant binary sunsets the arid rock offered, but even then there were hundreds of other places in the galaxy where you could see those.

When Mando charted course for Tattooine, you bit your tongue. He said he needed to talk to an ‘old friend’ in some tiny, middle-of-nowhere town, and seeing as you were along for the ride, you steeled yourself for another day of brushing sand out of all of your clothing.

Mando had not given you much information, which you didn’t particularly mind. This was mainly a detour on your journey through the galaxy – some kind of favor he needed to repay or something, you surmised. His ‘old friend’ was only described as ‘The Marshal’, and you wondered what kind of law enforcement a syndicated crime planet like Tattooine could even harbor.

Mando landed the Crest on the outskirts of the city one late afternoon. You, Grogu, and your armored patron walked the short distance into the town to where a man dressed in red was waiting for you.

“Good to see you,” the man called out, moving forward to grasp Mando’s arm in greeting. You hung back slightly, feeling a little out of your element when the man happened to glance past the bounty hunter and catch your gaze.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” The Marshal sauntered forward, an easy grin matching his easy gait. He was quite handsome, you decided. Nice peppery-gray hair, eyes lined with laughter. He reached out for your hand, which you gave with a quiet giggle as he brought it to his lips.

“Don’t tell me she’s one of your bounties, Mando.” The Marshal directed at the Mandalorian as he kissed the back of your hand flirtatiously. “Cause I might be tempted to play the hero and rescue her from your clutches-“

“She’s helping me on my journey,” Mando interrupted flatly. There was a wink of humor in the Marshal’s gaze as he released your hand, only to wrap one arm around your shoulder.

“Well, then, welcome,” he exclaimed. “Any friend of Mando’s is a friend of mine, er…?”

You shared your name, and the man began to walk you toward what you assumed was the local cantina. It was past midday, and it looked like the building was the gathering place for most of the locals as they ended the day. Several people greeted the Marshal as he pointed out different landmarks to you, indicating that he was just as popular among his people as you would have assumed based on his appearance and looks alone.

Mando trailed along just slightly behind the two of you, Grogu tucked in his sack at his side.

“Can I buy you a drink?” The Marshal asked, motioning to the bartender. Two glasses of blue liquor were poured, and the charming man held one out to you.

“Sure,” you smiled. It had been a while since you had let yourself indulge. Even on the rare occasions you and Mando stopped someplace with alcohol, it was mainly for information or to pick up supplies to take on the go. Not to mention the fact that Mando never took off his helmet.

The Marshal – who you later found out was named Cobb Vanth – clinked his glass against yours and the two of you took healthy swigs of the slightly sour drink. Wincing, you matched the handsome man’s grin as he leaned casually against the bar.

“So tell me,” he drawled, swirling his drink In his glass. “What’s a girl like you doing hanging around a Mandalorian bounty hunter?”

You vaguely registered Mando hovering off to the side. He did not ask for a drink, nor did you think he would accept if one was even offered. You glanced over at him, wondering if you should defer to him – he had wanted to come to Freetown to speak with the Marshal, who was currently more fixated on you. On the other hand…it had been a while since you had a chance to talk to someone who wasn’t a literal child.

Turning to focus your attention on Cobb, you explained your background and talked generally about what you were doing for Mando. You left out most of the details in the interest of protecting both his and Grogu’s safety but were secretly delighted that the man did not pry for answers. Instead, he asked questions about you – where you were from, your research, your favorite parts of the galaxy you had seen thus far. He had a charming way of speaking, and a quick wit, and you found yourself losing track of time as the conversation flowed steadily into the evening.

At some point, Cobb had procured a small table for the two of you, and you perched on the edge of your seat as he explained how he had come to meet the Mandalorian. He laughed at how your jaw dropped during the tale of how Mando had flown into the mouth of a krayt dragon to blow it up from the inside. You spared another glace towards the bounty hunter, who hadn’t moved since you had entered the cantina. His helmet was fixed on you, and though you couldn’t see his eyes something told you his gaze was fixed on you. The feeling sent a slight shiver up your spine.

Seeming to notice, Cobb reached out and placed a calloused hand over your own. “It has truly been a pleasure,” he smiled. “But I better go speak to Mando before he burns a hole through both our heads.” You returned his smile and stood – albeit a little wobbly from the several drinks you had consumed over the past hour or so.

The Marshal beckoned for someone to come over, and explained that they would show you to a room you could stay in for the night. As he did so, Mando walked over, his bulk just millimeters from your back. You opened your mouth to greet him, but he just handed you Grogu in his sack and asked that you take the now-sleeping baby with you.

“Of course,” you said, gently taking the child into your arms. “See you later?”

Mando did not answer you and instead took your seat across from Cobb. The Marshal wished you a good night, and you followed the young woman he had procured to show you to your room.

An hour later, you were freshly bathed and had changed into a clean set of clothes. The room was decently sized, if not a bit dusty from lack of use. It held one large bed along with several chairs and a small table and was attached to a small side room that had a smaller bed. You had tucked Grogu into the smaller bed in the side room, closing the door gently so that you could prepare for sleep without waking him up.

You laid against the pillows and were browsing your datapad when the sound of the door sliding open signaled the arrival of Mando. You watched him clunk into the room over the top of your datapad. He stood in the middle of the room for a moment, a tension in the atmosphere having followed him in. “Where’s the kid?” He asked, and you pointed to the side room. He walked over to the door and opened it slightly to peer inside. Satisfied, he gently closed it and continued to stand there in the middle of the room.

“Have a good chat?” You asked, breaking the frigid silence after it became clear he was not going to. Mando settled into a chair heavily, spreading his legs and resting his arms on those of the chair.

“Was gonna ask you the same thing,” he rasped in response, and you raised a brow in question.

“What do you mean?” You asked, tapping a nail against the side of your datapad. Mando raised one shoulder in a half-shrug.

“You two seemed to hit it off.”

“Who? Me and Cobb?” You set down your datapad and crossed your arms. “He was nice.”

You could hardly believe the scoff you heard from the man. “Sure. That’s one way to put it.”

“Are you jealous?”

“…No.”

“You are,” you expanded, uncrossing your arms and swinging your legs over to hang over the side of the bed. “You’re upset that he was flirting with me, aren’t you?”

Mando was silent, and you wondered if his jaw was clenched under that helmet. You looked at him expectantly, and he sighed.

“I’m not upset,” you tried to clarify. “I think that’s just how he is. It’s ok to be jealous, Mando.”

“I am not jealous,” he grit out, and you tried to hide a smirk. Standing, you swayed over to stand in front of him. You were wearing an old oversized tunic that came just above your knees, and not much else. You stepped in between his spread thighs, your bare legs bumping against his armor. Even sitting, his head was nearly level with your own. Were you pushing it, standing naked from the waist down in between the legs of a dangerous and definitely jealous man? Perhaps.

“Then why were you staring at us the whole time?” You teased. “Mad that your friend was talking to me and not you?”

“I was waiting for him to make a move,” Mando interrupted. “To touch you.”

“Yeah?” You queried, and in a burst of bravery, you sat lightly on one of his broad thighs. You felt him tense underneath you, even through the armor, and resettle his weight back In the chair to support you more firmly. “What was your plan if he had made a move?”

One of his gloved hands came to rest on your bare thigh, and he slowly pulled it towards him, forcing your legs to spread slightly. His hand rubbed soft circles into your flesh, and you shifted so that your back was supported against the side of the chair.

“Hauling you over my shoulder and back into my ship,” Mando husked, hand venturing further up your thigh, under the hem of the long tunic. Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed lightly over your bare cunt. “And reminding you.”

One of his fingers ran up and down your slit, and you shifted again, trying to get him to put more pressure where you wanted it. “Remind me of what?” You asked breathlessly. Mando’s other hand crept up your back to grip your neck, forcing you to arch in his lap. He stood, hauling you up against him with ease. He half-dragged you over to the bed, sitting down so that he could pull you up against his back into his lap.

“This,” he said simply, spreading your thighs wider and grinding his hips up into your backside. You could feel him, hot and hard under his flight suit, and you let out a low moan at the sensation. One hand roamed over your shaking thighs, playing with the slick gathering between your legs, while the other came up to cross against your chest, holding you tightly against him.

“I was thinking,” Mando continued, sounding almost casual in his tone and timbre, “Of how to show you what you’d be missing. How to show other men that you spend your nights in my bed.”

You licked your lips, feeling air-light as he rasped through the modulator into your ear. His fingers between your legs alternated from pinching your swollen clit to probing your entrance.

“That’s what I was thinking,” he said lowly. “What were you thinking, wicked girl?”

“I’m thinking you should just fuck me already,” you gasped out, and Mando laughed. It echoed through your blank mind like smoke, and your eyes fluttered closed as two of his thick fingers slid tightly inside of you, thumb pressing against your clit. Your hips bucked at the sensation, only to be held tight in his iron grip.

“Can you be quiet?” Mando asked throatily, and you could feel the rumble of it from his chest. “The kid is sleeping…and who knows who else might be listening?”

“I thought you wanted them to know,” you whimpered, and his grip on you loosened for a millisecond before he stood and flipped you face-first onto the bed. The back of your tunic was pushed up as he pushed your shoulders down to the mattress, and dragged your hips up toward where he stood behind you.

“Keep quiet,” he gruffed out, and you heard the familiar sound of his belt coming undone and felt his bare hips warm against your ass. “You only cry for me, understand?”

“Y-ye-“ you barely had a chance to respond before he shoved his throbbing cock into you, punching the air out of your lungs in one solid thrust. Keening, you let your head fall against your arms as Mando gripped your hips firmly and began a steady, brutal pace.

He spread your thighs as wide as they would go so that you could take all of him in with every thrust. Something about his hands on your hips and the way he moved you felt necessary – deep, intense thrusts that would resist anything except acceptance from him. The bed creaked from his weight against your body, along with the rich sound of his hips slapping against yours.

The superiority of this angle made you focus on the place where he filled you like it was the center of your universe. You bit into the flesh of your arm in an attempt to silence the keening cries that wanted to escape from your throat. Mando groaned above you, and his pace quickened.

“This what you wanted?” he husked lowly. “To come on my cock? Come on, wicked girl, come on-“

You choked out a wordless plea as his weight came down across your thighs, and his cock rammed as far as it could go. You knew you would feel the ache of him inside of you for days.

“M-mando-“ you keened again, and you felt his grip on your hips clench harder.

“Gotta be quiet,” he rasped. “Want them to hear how you’re spread open for my cock?” You could feel your orgasm approaching like a ship preparing to exit hyperspace. You were sure nothing in your life would ever feel as good, as full, as right as the heavy weight of his cock inside of you.

The frantic clutch of your cunt wrung from Mando his own release. He all but collapsed onto you, wrapping you up so that you disappeared into his embrace. You came with a muffled scream, your leg going numb from the release of tension and the weight of the man fucking his semen into you.

Not allowing you reprieve, Mando groaned and collapsed onto his side, rolling you so that you were pressed up against him. His iron-hard cock was still inside of you, throbbing its release, and his hand came down between your legs to tweak at your clit. “Again,” he demanded, and you threw your head back and hit it against his helmet. He shoved the fingers of his other hand into your mouth to silence your cries as you came again, obediently, at the clumsy push of his fingers against your sore cunt.

Your body jerked against him, twitching from the edge of overstimulation. His cock, still streaming cum, slid out of you, pulsing the last of his release over your flushed entrance. For a while, all that could be heard was the sound of your breaths easing back from near hyperventilation. Mando’s grip on you was still possessive, but he shushed you gently and murmured praise into the back of your neck, hands circling your skin to ground your consciousness back down to him.

After that, Mando gently slid from behind you and lifted you into his arms. Your legs still shook from the onslaught, and he carried you quietly to the refresher where he helped you wipe yourself clean.

“All right?” He murmured as he brought a soft cloth to your inner thighs. You smiled sleepily and leaned your head forward to lay against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to the cold metal.

“If that wasn’t you being jealous,” you whispered, “Maybe next time I should flirt back.”

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #din djarin #cobb vanth

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odditycollector · 11 months

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@ihasafandom - Nepeta goes hunting

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Nepeta never got to hear the result of her Choice, given everything that followed. But after digging herself out of her Denizen’s collapsed cave, she finds herself on an unfamiliar world. Flat to the horizon, bright slate-blue sky, no consorts or underlings or any moving creature except one: a hornless, pink, bulbous biped of some sort. He’s dressed up in clothes - cute! - and clutching a riflekind weapon to his chest with pale molebeast hands - excruciatingly adorable! - as he tiptoes carefully across the soil.

With no other obvious options, she approaches the creature. She makes it a game! Skulking up behind him, imitating his strange high kneed, pointed toed gait. Nepeta matches him pace for pace - slipping quickly out of view whenever he glances behind himself - but after a while it becomes more sad than funny. And pity for this silly, inept creature leaps too easily into pity for own upsetting 'scritchuation.'

She taps the creature gently on the shoulder. He yelps and spins en pointe, his hat leaping higher from his head than aerodynamics would strictly explain, and it is all so goofy! Nepeta is well cheered up again.

“Hi!” she greets. “I’m mew to this place. Do you have any infurrmation you feel inexplicably compelled to share with me?”

The creature scowls. “No,” he says. “I’m busy. Hunting!”

“I can see that,” Nepeta offers encouragingly. And when this isn’t enough to trigger further dialog, she prompts: “What are you hunting?”

“Wabbits.”

“Oh.” If he is a Sgrub character, his dialogue options don’t seem to be very deep. He sure hadn’t given her many hints about what to do next! But maybe if she approached their meeting as more of a side quest?

“Well, as it happens… I am prowlso a STRONG hunter! Can I join you?”

An exaggerated pantomime follows. The creature studies her. He lifts her arm to check her bicep. Measures her teeth with a ruler. Snips a lock of her hair and drops it into a half-filled chemical beaker; it dissolves with a flash and a noxious green plume of air.

Eventually he accedes. “All right,” he says. “You can be my backup.”

“Yay!” she says. “Thank you!! I will--”

The creature raises a finger to his lips and interrupts her with a “SHHHHHHH!!!!!” so long and so loud and so shrill it is only by technicality not a whistle. “We must be very, VEWY quiet.”

Nepeta raises a finger to her own lips in agreement. “Sure. I purr-mice not to squeak above a whisker.”

The creature resumes his bizarre march, and Nepeta resumes her place as his shadow. But he doesn’t lead her to the next stage of a quest. He often traces his own footsteps in short circles, or crosses and recrosses his recent path.

At precisely the moment Nepeta is ready to break off and see what else the world might offer, there is a tapping on her shoulder. Of course. It was a test (a quest?) of patience!

She glances behind her. Mirroring her slow high stepping is someone new: a furred, grey and white creature, with long ears in place of horns. “Say there, pussycat,” he says, and Nepeta giggles at the pun, “what’re we doing out here?”

“Hunting wabbits,” she tells him.

“Ahh…” He nods. “You know, that’s just what I thought to myself. Ol’ Bugs, I thought, now THIS is a wabbit hunting team, if I ever did lay my eyes on one.”

He follows her. She follows the first creature. After a minute he taps her on the shoulder again. “Just one thing…. What’s a wabbit?”

Nepeta shrugs. “No claw,” she admits. The newest member of the party blinks blankly at her. “Er, I mean. No clue.” She gestures toward the earliest member of the party, who is very focusedly following their groups’ own footprints into yet another circle. “But this guy knows what he’s after. Probably!”

The grey creature doesn’t look impressed. “Oh… that guy definitely ‘nose’ something,” he says. Nepeta doesn’t get it. She’s going to ask him to explain -- she clarified her own pun, it is only fair -- but he steps past her.

He taps the first creature on the shoulder and says, conversationally, “Lookin’ for someone?” The first creature reacts just the way he had to Nepeta: spinning and twisting in alarm.

Unfortunately, this time his knee was just a little higher, his rifle clutched a little more awkwardly, his centre of gravity a little more off to the side. He doesn’t recover.

He falls hard, face-protrusion first into the dirt. Nepeta and her furry new friend watch in hushed solemnity as his hat drifts softly to rest upon the pert skyward globe of his ass.

#ihasafandom #ramble #i assume this is what you had in mind

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danco110 · 10 months

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“Almost…”

The hunter took careful aim with his crossbow, sights resting steadily on a lone elk, grazing in a small clearing. Before he could take the shot, however, a noise from the underbrush behind the creature startled it.

“Not again…”

The elk turned to flee, only for a hulking blur of fur and muscle to pounce on it, snarling ferociously as it bit down. Several other wolves emerged from the tree line, joining their massive brethren in descending upon the carcass.

The hunter wearily stepped out from his cover, approaching the feasting wolves with an irritated gait. The beasts noticed him, and formed a loose, growling semicircle around him. However, his gaze remained steadily fixed on the monster that had first felled the elk and was still eating of it, disregarding the man entirely.

“Eh-hem.”

The massive werewolf finally looked up at the human before it, and uttered a strangled growl that sounded suspiciously like laughter. It leapt from its perch atop the elk’s corpse, shrinking and shedding fur as it did so. A barrel-chested man landed in the wolf’s place, shaking the ground with the force of impact.

“What do you want, Paulin?” groaned the lycan.

“Georg,” began the hunter, “I’ve told you before, please try and keep away from animals I’ve been tracking. I need to eat, too, you know!”

“Sorry, but we need the food.

Tovolar says he’s planning to have us lead the charge against the Dawnheart witches. We need to get out of here before that happens.”

A smirk crossed Paulin’s grizzled face. “Skipping town, are we, Georg?”

“You would too, if you were in my shoes!”

“…Hmph. Fine. Just, again, try and leave some for the rest of us, huh?”

“Oh, sure. And…er…it looks like there’s still a little meat left there, on that…bone?”

Georg pointed sheepishly to the mostly-devoured elk which, sure enough, still had a small bit of flesh hanging from its leg, only lightly chewed.

“Pass, thanks. You guys work fast, I’ll give you that.”

“Thanks! Or, uh, sorry?”

Paulin bit back a laugh.

[Headcanon: a lot of Tovolar’s grunts put up a tough act before launching their assault on the Harvesttide Festival. But on the night of the actual attack, rumor has it that the alpha found his forces unexpectedly thin.]

#mtg #magic the gathering #innistrad #story bites

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 1 year

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HEART'S FATE - CHAPTER 41

*Warning: Adult Content*

- Skylar -

"Absolutely not," Skylar West says. "I forbid it."

Alpha Dane Hunter stares him down, testing the force of his will against the Mer-man’s own.

"I don't know how things work in Fish World or wherever you're from but in this Pack, our mates speak for themselves."

Behind his back, Dane’s own mate, Julian Hart snorts and rolls his eyes.

"Martin may speak for himself as soon as he is able to but," Skylar says. "In the meantime, the last thing he needs is to wake up and find that... that woman anywhere near him or his kids."

"You think I like having her here?" Dane growls. "Yeah, she kidnapped her own children and tried to take them off to be raised by some neo-Nazi-wolf cult. She tried to fucking cannibalize mine. Believe me, I'm at least as unhappy with the situation as you are."

"Then why is she sitting in the fucking parlor, sipping fucking tea?" Skylar grits through clenched teeth and gestures in the direction of the room to which Elena has been confined.

"Because Noah made me get rid of the pit in the basement," Ambrose Thorne says easily, descending the curve of the grand stairs, at the bottom of which we'd gathered for our impromptu emergency meeting. "Martin's awake, by the way."

"Is he alright?" Skylar asks, anger forgotten as he places a hand on the rail and a foot on the bottom step, ready to dash to Martin's side.

He'd barely been able to tear himself away and had only done so when their unwelcome guest arrived.

"He's asking for the kids and for you," Ambrose says evenly. "I said I'd send you up."

Skylar glances towards the other end of the hall where they'd sequestered the children in the library with snacks and whatever entertainment was at hand, which included Ambrose and Noah's rambunctious young dog.

"I'll keep them company for a bit," Julian offers. "Let you two talk. I know he won't want them overhearing anything about that..." he adds, nodding towards the parlor.

"And I shall entertain our 'guest,'" Ambrose says. "If she's hiding anything, I'll soon know i, and if she tries anything..." he shrugs. "Noah bought a new hoover recently, a vacuum, as you'd say and apparently it has a special attachment for ash. Haven't had a chance to try it out yet."

Skylar conveys his thanks and takes the stairs two at a time.

Dane follows at a more measured pace and Ambrose ambles down the hallway to the 'parlor.'

Something in his gait and bearing tells Skylar, the handsome Scotsman is almost looking forward to the encounter and that Elena had best behave herself if she doesn't want to end up in the dustbin with the rest of the trash.

Throwing open the door to the spare bedroom where Martin lies, Skylar sees Noah helping his brother to sit up and adjusting a pillow at his back.

Martin looks better than he did when Skylar had left him but still far from as well as he'd like.

An IV trails from his arm, though it's just a saline drip for hydration and his usually vibrant brown skin has a grayish, unhealthy undertone.

Seeing him like this, so vulnerable and weak, does something strange to Skylar’s heart.

He couldn't remember ever feeling as afraid as he had when Martin had collapsed, unconscious, after falling down the stairs.

Not knowing what else to do, Skylar had scooped him up, called for the kids and raced out to his van.

Bundling everyone inside, he'd driven here, banging on the door and shouting like a madman in the middle of the night.

Then he'd been pushed aside as Ambrose swooped in like a doctor in an ER drama and watched anxiously as he assessed Martin's condition and did his best to determine it’s cause.

'Just unconscious' was the final determination, despite some bruises from the fall and a troublingly weak pulse.

Skylar had spent a sleepless night at his side, keeping vigil for any change, good or bad, in his state, until Alpha Dane and his mate arrived in the morning with their unexpected and unwelcome companion in tow.

Then, leaving Skylar’s stricken lover in Noah and Ambrose's care, he'd gone downstairs to check on the children and to ensure that his unhappiness at Elena’s presence was, in no uncertain terms, made clear.

Now, Noah Hunter relinquishes his place at Martin's side as Skylar goes to him and takes his hand.

"How are you feeling?"

Martin’s eyes search Skylar’s with a question and his voice is low and soft when he speaks.

"I'm not sure."

Skylar frowns.

"You needn't see her. Whatever she has to say, she can say it to me or to your brothers."

"What about the kids? She hasn't seen them, has she?"

"I made sure she didn't," Dane says, coming around to the other side of the bed and pulling up a chair.

He turns it around and sits straddling it with his arms resting across the back.

"Julian's with them now."

"Do they know she's here?"

Dane and I exchange a glance.

All four children had been distraught, to varying degrees, over their father's health but the older pair had taken responsibility for the younger.

Once they'd assured them their father was in no immediate danger, Noah had set them up with sleeping bags and blankets in the library.

They'd still been asleep when Elena arrived with Julian and Dane.

"We told them to stay in the library and look after the dog," I say. "To keep him from running about the house and disturbing you. The younger pair bought it and have taken their duty quite seriously but Flora and Miguel know something else is going on. Fortunately, they've been playing along."

Martin leans back into the pillows and shuts his eyes momentarily.

"Good. Try to keep Nico and Rio in the dark, if you can. They're still so young and she's still their mother, despite everything. I don't want them getting the wrong idea, thinking she's come back or something. What is she saying, anyway?"

Skylar gives Martin’s hand a gentle squeeze, concerned by the weary resignation in his tone.

Sharing another look with Dane, Skylar lets him take the lead.

“She's claiming the two of you are still bound as mates or at least that your bond didn't sever properly," he says, his gruff voice cracking a little as he leans against the back of the chair. "She says that the broken bond is killing your Wolves and that until you make a complete, clean separation, neither of you can completely bond with a new mate."

"That's impossible," Martin says, his eyes flicking open again with a flash of amber. "I felt our bond break when she betrayed us. And I've felt...”

Martin looks at Skylar and he nods.

"I've felt it, too."

Alpha Dane sighs and bunches a hand in his long, ropy dread-lock hair.

"All due respect to the both of you but Martin you've only known the bond you had with Elena and by your own admission it was never strong. As for Sky..."

Dane rubs his hand across his mouth and hunches his shoulders a little.

"I'm not a Wolf," Skylar say mildly. "As we are all aware. Which begs the question, if this is a Wolf matter, it must be a terribly obscure one for none of you to have suspected it as the cause of Martin's sufferings, much less heard of it before."

Dane nods.

"You don't have to tell me. I've already contacted our parents and asked them to verify and I've reached out to several other Packs as well. Chiaki, Travis' mate, is a healer and her Alpha's pack is almost a hundred strong. If anyone will know if this is a thing, it'll be her. In the meantime..."

"What does she want, anyway?" Martin asks. "Elena, I mean."

"Apparently, to be heard," Dane says. "But she won't say more until you're present."

Martin sighs and sits up, pulling the IV from his arm.

"Wait. Are you certain?" Skylar asks, moving to help him as he swings his legs over the side of the bed.

Martin nods.

"Yes. If there's even a chance she's telling the truth, that I can be well and free of her for good, then at the very least it bears considering. But I want to see the kids first."

Noah nods and rises from the seat he'd taken in the corner.

"I agree. But I think you should get dressed first, for appearances sake."

Martin looks down at himself and winces.

Having been carried here in his unconscious state, he still wore nothing but boxers and a sleeveless shirt.

"Never fear," Noah says, tugging at his own impeccably tailored waistcoat, which Skylar has rarely seen him without. "You're a size or two larger than me, generally speaking and longer in the arm and leg but with all the weight you've lost in the last year, I think I've got something that will fit you."

Martin grimaces but nods.

He can hardly face his nemesis in his skivvies, Wolf or not and yet, as they follow Noah from the room, it's hard to tell whether facing Martin’s ex or Noah's wardrobe is the more fearful prospect.

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swansong1111 · 4 years

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youtube

Theatre of Tragedy - A distance there is •fan video edit •Fernando Linares-Correa •clips: Vampire Hunter D

Come in out of the rain thou sayest -

But thou ne'er step'st aside;

And I am trapp'd -

A distance there is...

None, save me and the bodkin - pitter-patter on the roof:

Behold! - 'tis not the rain; thence me it has to be -

I will not drink thy vintage wine, my dear;

Thou hast heed'd that I am of innocence, yet thou let'st thy lass into peril -

Thou let'st me be parched;

My heart is of frailty, my pale skin is hued damask.

When thou thy tears hast hidden, "Come back!", thou sayest -

There I soon am to be - but how am I to run when my bones, my heart!

Thou hast me bereaft? -

But run thou sayest; I run -

And there and then I behold that a time will come when I again dead will be.

Thou tell'st me to leave without delay -

I leave with my bodkin and my tears in my hands;

Lo! - the shadows, the sky - descending;

So by a dint of smite I gait ere I run and melt together with dusk.

In my mind in which is this event,

But it seems as if naught is to change anyway?

After all these years thou left'st me down in the emotional depths -

The sombre soaked velvet-drape is hung upon me,

Turning my feelings away from our so ignorant world:

All the beautiful moments shared, deliberatlely push'd aside -

...a distance there is...

#fan made #fan edit #fan art #fan video #fan video edit #a distance there is #Norwegian goth #Norwegian goth metal #goth metal #vampire d #anime #lyrics #dark wave #90s #theatre of tragedy #vampires #vampire hunter d #goth love

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redtemple-wra · 6 years

Text

Catch... And Release

The following is a collab effort by the rest of the cultists of the Red Temple.

It was a bleak afternoon. Drab, boring. It felt pointless and without purpose. The distant sobbing of prisoners acted as background noise, a mere song to liven the spirits of the temple’s residents with its symphony.

Awh, but the Goddess of Love hadn’t the time to dilly dally in the middle of the hallway. Instantly she made her way for the Oratorium, swiftly pushing the door open in one gentle tug of the knob and shove of her shoulder it’s it’s frame.

She had entered without permission, her confidence as condescending as her gait, alas her features remained frozen in a thoughtful expression as she meandered about. What the maiden first noticed within the drab, darkly lit tomb of a room was the silence. Such a silence, in Deith's mind, that was suffocating.

Nothing good came of dead silence, the demons of peoples minds would sometimes become too loud and tear you apart from within-- it was the entire reason the shirtless goddess was ruffling books and tinkering with ornaments and relics, her fingers sometimes adjust the thin, nearly translucent skirts upon her hips, therein rattling the bells attached at the ends for just that much more.. noise.

Finally, she couldn't take it, her voice naturally soft and alluring as she calls forth: "Orator! I desire an audience with you and the rest of our kin!"

The answer to her call was a bolt of fire, vibrant flames growing up from the ground that would catch the attention of the vibrant goddess.

Vivival stepped forward, flames refusing the spread to her, a sneer on her features. In her hands was a charred skull, ash flaking from the more burned parts. "I see, its whore o clock already,” the draenei snarked toward the kaldorei, “Need the Orator to give you direction beyond lusting after captives? Or just hoping he gives you another fuck toy?"

The condescending smile had suddenly manifested upon the kaldorei's lips as she turned to address the haughty draenei. Despite such an enticing grin, Deith looked simply unamused.

Her eyes ere cold and features pinched with frustration as she sneers and snarks, "You need to loosen up a little, Hotstuff."

This was all Deith said, long stiletto nails proceeding to comb through her beach waves, the teal tendrils moved around enough to expose her left breast, therein exposing painted sternum and underbust tribal markings

From the doorway of which Deith had, too, entered, the Demon Hunter of their enterprise announced his presence with a clear of his throat and a single whooshing flap of his large wings.

"Deith. Modest as ever, I see," noticed the also shirtless hunter, the smirk carrying in his voice, if not his face, given the open scream mask he wore as he watched her like a hawk. His eyeless gaze turned briefly on Vivival with a snickering snort heard upon his teasing query, "Does that skull carry any purpose, or is the aim just to make you look dramatic and 'spooky'?"

Pointedly Vivial shot back at the hunter, her tone haughty, “It’s purpose is a sacrifice. A test to see how quickly I can burn all bones“

Finally, the demon hunter’s head tilted toward Deith. It hadn’t taken a genius to place the confusion and wonder in his voice as he mumbled, "You called? What is it this time?"

The Goddess of Love bore a gentle smile whilst she turns to fully face her kin, "This time," Deith hums, offering the hunter a once over in acknowledgment, "I have called the meeting. It's time. We need to decide what to do next."

Mentioned:

@susan-gampre @sistersinsin @edwinxerathi

Her statement seemed to be quite vague, but not nearly enough for the two other corrupted god and goddess of the temple, both casting incredulous glances toward one another.

The Demon Hunter spoke first, a scoff on his tone.

"Kill her, experiment on and brainwash the child," Leresdelor said matter-of-factly, giving a dismissive shrug as his mask turned back to Deith. "Perhaps we can use the child as a guinea pig to enhance our own servants."

"Or even make her one of our own servants," Vivi grinned, that smile always just a smidge too big.

The very idea had caused Deith to tense, her motherly instincts consuming her. Of course, she had not spoken out on the idea of harming the child-- At least, not yet.

"Keep the child," Deith nods slowly, inhaling deeply before remarking what she was certain would be the unpopular option, "Release the whore."

"Release... As in, release her spirit from her body, yes?"

Deith’s eyes glared toward Leres, preparing to challenge the smug man-- until a chill overwhelmed the three. The room became.. Cold. So much Vivi’s flames visibly suffered, losing their intensity and shriveling into a smaller flame.

“ Hush."

That single word brought all three of the dark pantheon to lift their eyes and inspect the shadows of the room, pointedly quieting upon the command.

The very same voice which spoke this command comes forth a second time, melodic and singing a lullaby in a creepy and unnerving nursey rhyme manner, "Hush little baby, don't cry a word, father's going to find you a sharpened sword...hush little darling don't say a thing, mama's going to find you a dead plaything..."

From the wall emerges the Orator, the swaddled form of the child in question in his hands, his bone mask stark white in contrast to the black and shade cast by his hood. The grip he held on Vivian was gentle but firm. In the eyes of Deith.. It was protective.

"No. Release the whore wholesale, untouched, with the knowledge that her child will be reared within this temple to join our unborn pantheon,” The Orator promptly expressed, bringing a smile to Deith’s eyes whilst Leresdelor scoffs and Vivi sneers.

"Let her tear herself apart with grief, let her rally allies to come to us. They are unprepared for the horrors within these walls, and then we might reap the worthy and fill the pools with their blood,” Deith agrees, uncaring to beckon the Orator for his agreeance for her to speak up.

The two others sneered at the kaldorei’s reckless and disrespectful fashion, but with the Orator’s nod toward them would they speak up.

"Sadly, they cannot find us. I am well aware of that. If they wish to find us, we will have to lead them, step by pathetic step,” Vivi mutters out, clearly disgusted with the very thought.

“A shame, though,” Leres sighs, so dramatically forlorn as he muses, “I was so looking forward to rending her head from her body, but I suppose her pathetic minions will do."

Unbeknownst to the trio of god and goddesses, but very much acknowledged by the silently observing Orator, a small void elf had hovered her way to the Orator’s chambers where the others were plotting. Clinging within the doorway to the Oratorium, cloaked in shadows, the elf’s gaze was transfixed upon the new life swaddled up in the Orator’s grasp.

There was no doubt she cared for the child, like one of her own vulpine children, noted by her whispering, “...I can w-watch her...,” the small voice peeped through the dark shadows of the room.

It was enough to bring Deith’s attention unto Varikh, of course, her long ears twitching with life.

Doubt clung to Deith's soul as she reviewed the shrouded woman, breathing deeply before exhaling out: "Orator... The child should not be experimented on," with this would Deith turn toward the Orator, "For one it is not worthy. Too innocent, unproven. We should raise it to be one of us-- Our own little demi-god."

Shadows would begin to form until the doctor stepped out of them. He stood beside his assistant. The doctor still adorned in his mask and his bladed and leather attire. He had been out scouting about and seeking potential targets but he was called to this gathering.

Upon listening to Deith he spoke once she was finished.

“Varikh would make for a good guardian of the child. No experimentation but the child will need nurturing care. A maternal touch.” He explained. “My assistant has experience taking care of children. “ one could wonder why the doctor would take interest in the child, but what Deith said, she made an excellent suggestion. “At least until she is of age to be trained.”

"Hmm. So we're running an orphanage then? We're going to provide for the girl? Feed her, clothe her? For no guarantee of return on our investment? At least if we experiment on her, we'll gain something. We could leave her whole enough to be trained as well.”

The demon hunter’s condescending nature brought a noisy scoff from Deith, her lips weighed by a prominent frown which only seemed to age her youthful visage.

“We do not prey upon children. If you'd like, I'll provide you with an adult body to dissect all you desire,” the kaldorei snapped at her kin, Goddess of Love turning to challenge the God of War.

“Not orphanage per say,” the Doctor theorizes, “Just imagine, she is raised here? Believing that this is family, the undying loyalty she’ll have. We will be able to indoctrinate her in our ways and methods, she could be in fact made into a weapon. There are many possibilities here.” He added.

The squabbling and verbal arguments of his children brought the Orator to stir with life, his bone mask lifting from the slumbering child to command toward the pantheon: “Silence!”

Instantly all five of the group befell into an intense silence, eyes all turning to the Orator. Some wide, some narrowed. Frustration and excitement swirled amongst them as they waited patiently.

“Your point all have merit. This is just a child and has no use to us now. Too innocent, too unproven...yet I see a grand opportunity here." He steps down and walks forward, passing through the throng, legitimately moving through Victor at one point, and coming to a stop before the door, "A child in the hands of a death cult? How many of the adventurous types would come for her? How many people would Gampre send to us to get her child? People whose blood we can harvest."

The Orator looks down at the babe and begins to play with her little hairs, "Besides. There is never just one generation. There must always be those who can take our places should we fall. What better than one we have molded all their life?"

"Could always burn it, “ the draenei seethes, her glared settled upon the babe, “And just be done with it. And why so protective whore?” this query seemed directed at the kaldorei, “They only know suffering if we let them live..."

Deith’s glare matched Vivi’s in intensity, fixated on the draenei in question. But she said nothing.

"We should prey upon whomever we can. They're all lesser beings. It is our right." The hunter says quietly, his voice even and unwavering. He falls silent at the command though, his gaze moving to the Orator.

"It will not be just one of us that teaches the child, Vivival. It will be all of us." The Orator utters out, holding the child up into the air, "Isn't it fascinating? Everything was at one point as helpless and small as this child. Even the Titans came from somewhere, the worlds, the stars, the demons..." He sighs and cants his head to the side, "A wonderful state of being. Complete ignorance, yet complete enlightenment..."

Slowly Vivial and Deith’s glared lessened to a softer stare, both women turned to fixate on the Orator now as he holds the child close, and then turns back to the group, "We will keep her, as both a lure and as a ward. Dump the whore off at her whorehouse, let her wallow in despair like the rest of her lot."

"I will abide by any choice you make Orator.,” Vivial concedes, her tone lacking enthusiasm, “But I will ask if she is adept in magic, that I am her teacher. Either here or where we send her. Teach her what I wish I knew.

Slowly the Orator nodded, igniting hope within Vivial, "I will think on what to do. A schedule...no...a program." He looks to Varikh now, gaining the ren’dorei’s full attention, "You would be willing to take her in, yes?"

Varikh crept into the room as the Orator’s movements shifted the infant to and fro. Her leather padded feet barely making gentle thwaps against the stone floor, “I-I will take her in as one of my own and... and c-care for her,” she assured. “I w-will love her...” she whispered almost inaudibly.

Deith's hardened stare would settle upon Varikh, inspective... Curious, even, before her eyes move toward the Orator, "She'll make a good surrogate."

And then would Deith's glare move from Leres to Vivi, "And anyone who attempts to harm the child will be met with swift discipline. Can we agree to this?"

The doctor nodded firmly. “Agreed.” He spoke.

"Fine,” the hunter snarls, “But... Just to clarify. What sort of... Harm are we talking about?" He rumbles quietly.

“Physical, mental, and emotional,” The Orator answers, “You have plenty of other things to wreak havoc upon, the child is not one of them.” He looks between the two demons, “I will compensate the two of you with pray of a high caliber, the type that will satisfy your cravings for violence in place of the child.”

"Any training will be fraught with danger. She will come to harm if she fails to control magic or blade,” Vivi theorizes.

"When she's old enough to train and be disciplined, then that is a different story," Deith remarks.

"Well, that at least goes without saying. Before that point, however, she will remain unharmed, cared for, and treated like a god amongst their servants. We will be the calritous voices keeping her down to earth, but we will make her the strongest champion we will ever have..."

"As you say, Orator,” Vivial bows, her eyes narrowing, “What would have me burn in the meantime? The whore does still have one side of her face unmarred."

"No more with the whore, it is a waste of your talents. No, I have another target for you,” The Orator turns to the blood hanging in the ceiling of the Oratorium and gestures. The blood swirls and writhes, forming a circle. In the middle, the face of a goblin appears, "His name is Guyrix Wondergoggle. I want you to burn him, his headquarters, and the entirety of his company down. If any of you want to go, do so. This is personal between him and the Temple."

"Tell me where, and it will be ash."

"Stranglethorn Vale. Near where the Venture Company had their headquarters before it got destroyed. Let it all burn, and let the columns of flames reach the heavens."

Vi stood, grinning wide. She burned to ash in a moment, gone. Her mission would be brief.

The dying of the flames would bring the rest of the group to theorize and murmur amongst each other, each eyeing the child and then each other.

Varikh watched the child in the Orator’s arms, mindlessly approaching their leader. She desperately gazed at the innocence trapped in such an oblivious state. The threats made on her life, the plans for her rearing, all this made without the child’s knowledge.

Varikh thought back to her own children, the elven ones. Fixing their breakfast, tucking them in at night — it all seemed like a distant memory now but with this little one, she’d have a second chance.

The partially nude goddess would proceed to fold her arms beneath her bosom, casting a glance toward the Orator, "How shall we return her, the whore? Where even? In a box? Shall we give her a chance and send a message to her dearest friend that she is free?"

"I say just dump her like the trash she is." The Hunter pipes up again.

With a sigh Deith meanders to Leres's side, hissing toward the Hunter, "Do not be insufferable. We don't want her to die, otherwise, no one knows the baby is here. Something precious for everyone to come running for."

"Return her in a box-- No...return her in a coffin. At the doorstep of her burned establishment. Warn her friends, warn whoever. I want her first sight to be the ruin of everything that she cared about."

As Deith strode next to him, the Hunter extended a clawed finger, trailing it along her exposed skin absently. "I didn't say kill her, but a coffin? So much work for someone worth so little."

The Orator’s idea brought small smiles and a lighter mood around the group, each snorting or giggling in amusement.

“Devious, darling,” Deith purrs.

Taking the moment to turn to the assembled group, The Orator passed the babe off to Varikh in an absentminded way. The figure touched his mask and gestured around, "Then this is concluded. The child will remain ours, the whore dumped at her whorehouse. Whoever wants to do it, do it swiftly, I have missions for all of you once this is done."

Instantly the desperate void elf gathered and cuddled the babe to her chest, eyes widened with glee as the child naturally fell into her grasp. It was clear to Deith, then, that the woman had been a mother once before.

Deith's silvery eyes would brighten whilst her whimsical voice purrs, "I'll locate her father. Perhaps we'll--," the maiden smirks knowingly, "Make use of the evening beforehand."

With finality to his tone, the Demon Hunter huffed out, shaking his head. "Ah well, I suppose I'll hunt then, all this talk has got my blood boiling... If no one else cares to, I'll dump her when I return."

"Perhaps the Doctor..," Deith gestures toward Victor, "Could make the coffin?"

The doctor looked over to Deith and he had a small grin firm upon his lips. “ I may have one already prepped for the queen whore.. I assumed we would kill her.. out of eagerness I crafted one.” He rubbed the back of his head lightly.

"As you wish, Orator." Leres gave a rather overly dramatic bow, before his wings carried him out of the room with a burst of wind.

"Even if she does not lay dead, place her into the coffin. Let her panic within its contents,” the Orator nodded slowly, a smile heard in his voice.

Victor nodded. “As you wish.”

"When you have completed the task, leave immediately. Don't worry about her friends finding her. Come back here immediately, I have a task that will talk all of your medical knowledge and acquired skills as a doctor. A little...experiment, if you will."

The doctor bowed his head to the orator. “I am up for the challenge.” He said before dismissing himself to perform the task laid before him.

"Oh, Deith. I have a task as well, for you or your champion, once you are ready to hear it."

Pausing near the exit, for the maiden was preparing herself to leave, the promiscuous goddess turns to face the Orator whilst wearing her most enticing smirk, silver eyes batting flirtatiously, "Is that so, darling? Well.. Perhaps I'll visit your chambers later when we have more privacy to discuss it?" An impish smile would replace the enticing, her sense of humor as slutty as she looked.

The Orator turned his mask to face her and simply nodded. As his face was swaddled in cloth and bone, it would be impossible to gauge his facial expression and general disposition at the moment, "I await your presence in my chambers then, my dear."

With a flick of her wrist, the maiden waves her farewell, slipping out of the room in a sway of her hips and toss of her hair.

All the while... Varikh cradled the babe tightly to her chest and carried her out of the chambers, making her way back to the doctor’s office. A small, faint hum in the tune of a lullaby could be heard echoing in the halls.

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