#ask!malthael

[fluff-and-such]

How Malthael looked before he went mad?

Malthael as in Muffy?

Big kitty.

And if u meant ye Regular Malthael, he's there too lol

[dangergrandpa]

How much are wings sensitive?

Depends on the individual, in my headcanon. Imperius's wings aren't really sensitive until you get to the joints that connect to his back.

Malthael uses his as extra limbs and sensory organs, so his wings are pretty darn sensitive the whole way through.

[fluff-writing]

Hmmm, fic where Rat have fever and Mal take advantage? :D or change side(omegaverse)

This inspired the start of a sick-fic before I remembered u specified omegaverse lmao.

Malthael being inappropriate under the cut.

Rathma growled at him, low and dangerous in his chest. It only served to make Malthael chuckle as the vibrations tickled at his thighs where he was straddling the nephalem. He reached forward to rub affectionately under his chin. “That’s not going to help, you know.” Malthael teased. “I’m not letting you go anytime soon, and you’re not even that intimidating right now.”  That was a semi-lie. Not the part about being let go; Malthael was keeping his alpha tied up until he’d forcibly wrangled his rut out of him (or possibly just until he himself was satisfied), and that was that. No, despite having both hands bound above his head, and a gag clamped between his teeth, Rathma was actually still rather unnerving to behold.  It had to be something in the way he stared, Malthael thought. Plenty of Alphas had oggled him over the years, but this was something else. A level beyond. Oh, there was raw, filthy lust in those eyes. There was violent intent. But there was also a possessiveness, a fierceness he had never quite found in another angel.  It wasn’t actually all that often that Malthael got to behold his partner all splayed out like this, got to hold him still after tearing away all his trappings and armor himself. His chest and belly, pale with a smattering of black hair, were constantly rising, flexing beneath him where he had perched himself on his mate’s body. There was also the strained way his restraints creaked whenever he flexed clawed hands and lean arms. Malthael had the feeling that if Rathma truly wanted to be free, then he would be. It was a strangely giddy feeling, knowing that his alpha was letting him tease and taunt and play with him like this. Rathma must’ve been enjoying it.  With a huff through his nose, the nephalem settled once more. Back to glaring daggers.   “Good boy.” Malthael purred. He leaned in to gently kiss him on the forehead, and noted the way Rathma went completely still. Anticipating affection? Or perhaps waiting to pounce.  White skin was hot beneath his lips. Just shy of burning. Oh, his mate ran warm, warmer than humans, certainly warmer than the angels. But in the throes of rut, he’d heated up even more.  We don’t call it ‘mating fever’ for no reason. Rathma had wryly told him, before said fever had totally taken him. With a satisfied hum, Malthael inhaled, breathing in his partner's scent. It was heavier than usual, thick with pheromones and sweat-scent. He nuzzled his way down his cheek, tucked his nose up into the crook where Rathma's throat-met-jaw. Heady. Delicious. "My dear nephalem." Malthael breathed. "How I shall care for you tonight."

[heavenlycorespondant]

A delicately penned message drops into Gabriel's askbox.

"I have noticed your curiosity about my having children, librarian. Should you like to ask further questions, I am open to meeting and/or speaking about it."

((It's from a Mumth!))

- @dangergrandpa

Gabriel raised her eyebrows, looking at the message. Almost immediately she took a quill and sheet of paper, with the intention to answer. "I was rather confused. The Lord Malthael I knew before, wasn't the type of person interested in having a family at all. And he still remains dead, from what I know so far. I will be pleased to meet with you. Will a Westmarch's bar be right? PS. I am a historian, not a librarian."

[duckymeanace]

Ok. I know I'm not active on my own blog BUT.... I finally finished an art piece, FULLY without starting another one and forgetting that one exists. That being said, I have dug my own metaphorical grave. Because this mans is only one of FIVE I have decided to challenge myself to do. And it took me 24 hours to complete. If your just counting the time actually working on the piece and not hunting refs or getting asked to do stuff, it's about 1hr 38min.

That being said, I now introduce!!!!

My take on Malthael being a. HORSE.

And without any shading:

[hidden-heavens]

On a scale of hagfish to sandpaper, how slippery are everyone's tails?

Malthael - silky smooth, sorta squishy. No scales!

Auriel - similarly squishy but also weirdly firm. Octopuses be weird, yo.

Imperius - Goodbye skin, very rough.

Itherael - being a jellyfish, kinda gooey. Almost sticky.

Tyrael - bumpy, but not sandpapery.

Anu - very squishy and gooey! Also probably mildly like static due to lots of stinging cells in there.

[mal-likes-biscuits]

I gotta ask - did u give D4 Mal-insert black hair as a nod to Lore Things? ~🐟

It's a nod to where his character would start again, predominately. When I was doing character creation I was thinking a lot about why Mal would be there, beyond me just wanting to have fun walking around a necro that looks like him.

Because Sanctuary in D4 is understandably very different from the Sanctuary Mal is from. I genuinely like the setting and appreciate why some things were retconned from D3 -- notably the damage Malthael actually did in the world.

Mal fucked up pretty bad, where he's from. Him and the reapers flattened Westmarch. They did notable damage in other major cities, and had the Nephalem not stopped them, they would have proceeded to walk over every other mortal on the planet. But the majority of his forces were in Westmarch, because that is where the Nephalem began to oppose him, so that's where more of the reapers went.

It's pretty clear at the end of D3 that Malthael didn't do any sort of world-level devastation to Sanctuary. But in D4, we've been told by the developers that 90% of the world's population has died since D3 50 years prior, predominately killed off by the reapers.

It's no wonder Sanctuary is so rough. The entire world has been trying to survive and rebuild while being assaulted by anything threatening left. Toss in Lilith and Inarius' forces to the mix, and it's a (not legit) miracle anyone is alive.

What would bring Mal there? Mal ends up back on Sanctuary in all my stories because the sound of mortals is louder than the Arch. (The Arch has been corrupted and is failing, after all, whether it's obvious how bad at the time or not.) Particularly, he hears the sound of mortals trying so desperately to live and survive, just like he wants to do. There's a large amount of them .... near Westmarch, where the survivors of his attack settled.

You see how this happened, there?

Who knows the state of the Arch in D4. Would he hear it? Would he even exist to hear mortals? One thing remains common though, between the two worlds, and that there's no shortage of people trying to live.

I'm not sure where he wakes up in Sanctuary, exactly. Or how long he wanders. But it's not the Mal we know. This is Malthael. Possibly sane, possibly not. And he is surrounded by the breathtaking scope of just how badly he's ruined this world.

And that's how we start back right at the beginning. Black hair with flecks of growing silver, as he gradually is dragged back into the Eternal Conflict whether he wants it or not.

This is not a happy story. There's no Nephalem cultural capital, no explosive growth from darkness. No librarian.

But it would still be a very Diablo story, because at its heart, D4 is about what mortals do to survive. They're all heroes in their own story. Broken, dirty, caked in blood, but alive in spite of everything's attempts to write their epilogue.

[trackerkitsune]

tagged by @runningwolf62 for the WIP ask game! Wip Game Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs. Oh boy here we go-

Published on AO3:

Little Note (Diablo)

Not Broken, Just Bent (Diablo)

Unpublished WIPs:

Micah + Shaddox (Diablo)

Familiar x Elidibus AU (FFXIV)

King!Ingvi AU (FFXIV)

A Storyteller's Journal (Hollow Knight)

Fern (Hollow Knight)

Emotional Support Drifter (Warframe)

Origin - Duviri - Olexei - Erin - Rien - Harrow (Warframe)

Warframe ABO

Undercity AU (Diablo)

Space Angels (Diablo)

Omega Malthael (Diablo)

Robot Angels (Diablo)

Owned AU (Diablo)

15 tags (if you want to do this, no pressure at all!): @fluff-writing @fuyukotheduckling @oyeedraw @biiigwinged @specsthespectraldragon @beetlebrownleaf @battlecrazed-axe-mage @nekrotikon @grollow @eliniei @windupnaldthal

and anyone else who wants to do it!

[displacer-beasts]

@lisa-and-shadow see if this one works?

Nico could have taken a day of rest before pushing on to the Dry Steppes. He doubted it would have made a difference, but he was desperate to put Scosglen and that whole damn mess behind him.

He would have to tell Lorath of course. He deserved to know what happened to his friend, but after that all Nico wanted was to sleep. Maybe he’d get lucky and get at least a few hours of rest before the nightmares hit.

It was dark when he got to Ked Bardu, but there were still a few stragglers on the streets. Enough to direct him to the inn, and perhaps from there he could find Lorath.

Whatever Lorath had discovered about the Pale Man was probably not good. The innkeeper swore at Nico when he’d asked, apparently the ‘old man’ had made a name for himself the last few days. Drinking the entire stock of rum, picking fights with strangers, arguing and ranting in an unknown language to anyone with an ear, and worst of all, not paying his tab.

Nico got directions to where he’d last been seen. He had to pay for a room and cover Lorath’s tab, and he was pretty sure the innkeeper threw in a few extra charges there. (Thank fuck killing demons was actually lucrative business, as long as you survived long enough to spend the gold)

Nico found him near the stables, leaning heavily against the wall and talking to a goat.

“Should’ve seen the signs really. He was always fucking pushing boundaries. But fuckin’ hells, not even I could have expected this shit-“

“Lorath, fuck, there you are.”

At his name, the man jerked, bleary eyes meeting Nico’s and for a moment there was no recognition.

“Who in the hells are you?”

“…You told me to meet you here Lorath, remember?”

“Ah.” Lorath rubbed a hand over his face, “Right. I’m just surprised you’re not dead.”

Nico took a step closer.

“Lorath what happened? Who is the Pale Man?”

Lorath wavered. It seemed as if he was on the verge of telling Nico, before his face went blank.

“He’s… No. Just… no.”

Nico recognized that expression. He’d seen it those weeks ago, when Lorath had told him about Malthael and Westmarch. That haunted expression which meant Lorath just wanted to drown himself in enough ale to forget, even if only for a few hours.

Well, as he had proven those weeks before, there were other methods of distraction.

“Alright then, not tonight.”

He took another step closer and put a hand on Lorath’s arm. Lorath’s eyes traced a path from his hand up to his eyes, and Nico could tell when he remembered what happened weeks ago because his eyes darkened, and he swallowed hard.

Nico waited.

Lorath’s hand curled around one of the leather straps of his armor, pulling him in closer.

“Listen here Wanderer, either leave me to my drinking or- “

“Or?” Nico crowded Lorath, pushing him deeper into the relative privacy of one of the empty stalls. He leaned in, lips brushing against Lorath’s jaw. Lorath tilted his head back with a sigh, and Nico took the opportunity to gently press a smattering of kisses along his throat, the coarse edge of the beard tickling his lips.

“Or be a more enticing alternative.”

Nico bit down. Lorath groaned, pulling him closer. Nico slid a leg between Lorath’s thighs, pressing him against the wall and rocking his hips against the growing erection.

“I suppose I’ll have to prove myself then, won’t I?”

He layered Lorath’s neck with bites and kisses, not bothering to be careful with his teeth. The opposite really, taking care to leave marks that wouldn’t be easily covered by Lorath’s beard or his cloak.

“Watch your fuckin’ teeth.” Lorath’s hand reached up and grabbed his face, thumb sliding along his cheek, then into his mouth. Nico’s tongue slid along the flat of his thumb, and he closed his lips around it and sucked gently, eyes meeting Lorath’s, who groaned heavily.

Lorath pressed harder against the tongue with his thumb, then traced up along the teeth, rubbing over the sharp canines.

“Better not feel those, dog.”

Nico grinned and bit down. He was rewarded with Lorath’s sharp gasp, his legs spreading wider.

“Guess you’re gonna have to take that risk, old man.”

He knelt down, bunching Lorath’s robes to the side and pulling his pants down to his knees. He lavished his thighs with kisses and bites, ignoring the erection in front of him. One of Lorath’s hands reached down and sunk into Nico’s hair, pulling at it in vain to get Nico’s mouth to where he really wanted it.

Nico ignored the pain, in fact it encouraged him to skip over Lorath’s erection entirely, leaning up and biting at his stomach instead. He relished in Lorath’s grunts of frustration.

“Fucking hells, you better not be expecting me to beg–“ Lorath cut himself off with a groan.

Well, that was an interesting thought.

“Next time.” He promised (if there was a next time) and rewarded Lorath’s patience by sliding his tongue over the head of his cock.

He took the next few minutes to explore and discover what made Lorath shake. There was a particular vein under his cock that, if Nico stroked it with his tongue, made Lorath’s hips jerk forward. If he cupped his balls and gently massaged them, Lorath gave a deep rumbling groan that almost sounded like a purr. And if he very carefully scraped his teeth along the side of his cock, it made Lorath curse and whine, futilely pulling at his hair.

After a few moments, Nico stopped moving entirely, cock still halfway down his throat, looking up until Lorath made eye contact. He paused, saliva pooling in his mouth, dripping down his chin.

Waiting.

Lorath groaned loudly. He gripped Nico’s hair tighter and began to thrust, fucking Nico’s mouth at his own pace. Nico relaxed further, using the same meditative techniques he used when fighting to keep control over his gag reflex. (Hah, if his teacher could see him now.)

Lorath’s thrusts grew jerky and erratic, his panting getting faster and louder. Nico pressed in closer, lips reaching the base of Lorath’s cock, nose brushing against his stomach, throat contracting over the head of his cock-

“AH!”

Nico’s arms wrapped around Lorath’s legs, one hand curling over his thigh, the other gripping his ass tightly, keeping him on his feet as Lorath came down his throat with a shout. His whole body going weak from the force of his orgasm.

He carefully pulled away as Lorath slowly came down from his high. Nico rested his head against Lorath’s thigh. His throat was burning, his legs were killing him, his pants tight and sticky from coming completely untouched, but he had never felt better in his life.

He carefully got to his feet, gently tucking Lorath back into his pants.

“I suppose that’s one alternative to a night of drinking,” Lorath helped him to his feet, pressing his hand against Nico’s groin and raising an eyebrow at the wetness, “Well, I was going to offer to return the favor, but it seems you enjoyed that as much as I did.”

“Oh, we’re not done here Lorath.” Nico’s voice was wrecked. Deep and gravelly.

“Oh?”

Nico grinned wickedly, pressing a deep kiss to Lorath’s mouth, making him taste the saliva and his own cum. Then leaned over and licked his ear. The damaged one, tongue feeling the texture of the long healed-over scar.

“By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember your own damn name.”

Lorath hummed in pleasure.

“Lofty promises. Let’s see how well you keep them.”

---

The trip back to the inn passed by in a blur. The innkeeper glared at Lorath as they entered but said nothing as they passed upstairs to the room. The room itself was small and sparsely decorated. (Nico wondered if the innkeeper had given them the smallest room intentionally). But it had a bed and four walls which suited their purpose well enough.

Nico paused when they entered, watching Lorath as he stripped down.

For all that he was an old man who drank too much too often, there was a strength to that body. Nico had seen him carry that 120-pound dead buck over his shoulder like it weighed nothing. Had seen him wield that long-handled axe with a grace and ease that men half his age would be envious of.

He was tempted to change his initial plans. To feel that weight press him down onto the mattress, the strength of those arms pinning him down.

But perhaps next time (oh please let there be a next time). For tonight it seemed as if Lorath wanted another to take control. And Nico loved nothing better than giving his partner whatever it was they needed.

Lorath spread himself on the bed, unabashedly letting Nico gaze his fill.

“Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts already, Wanderer.”

“Just admiring the view.”

Nico held eye contact as he began to strip out of his armor. Crossbow and swords placed carefully along the wall, the multitude of throwing daggers (at his sides, strapped to his arms, his legs, even the one in his boots), the potions and poisons hanging from his belt, all carefully removed and placed onto the small side table.

Lorath hummed approvingly, Nico could see his interest growing with each weapon revealed.

“I don’t suppose you have any oil or lubricant in one of those pouches of yours? Or this night might yet end in disappointment.”

“Lorath,” Nico tsked chidingly, “You should know by now preparation is key for those who make a living adventuring.” And from one of the bags, he procured a small jar, with a thick oil for this express purpose.

(Nico had bought this oil a few weeks back. He had waited for some time after that one night they shared in the cabin before returning there once again, so as not to seem too desperate. He had been hoping to entice the man into another pleasurable night, before the blizzard and the damn villagers in Nevesk had thrown all his plans out the window.)

“Hmm, well I suppose it’s a good thing I’m dealing with a professional.” Lorath’s tone was mocking and it drove Nico crazy, “If only this one would hurry up.”

“I thought age was supposed to come with patience hm?”

“Not for this old man, now are you going to come here and fuck me or do I have to do it myself?”

“Well since you asked so nicely.”

Whatever retort Lorath had was cut off as Nico kissed him, pressing him down into the creaky mattress. Lorath arched up, deepening the kiss, his hand sinking once again into Nico’s hair. Nico moaned.

“Like that, do you?” Lorath asked, tugging sharply at his hair.

“Oh yes, about as much as you like pulling it I wager.”

Lorath grinned, and then flipped them over.

Nico raised an eyebrow, “I thought you wanted to get fucked old man?” He trailed a hand along his side, reaching down to squeeze at Lorath’s ass.

“Oh I do.” Lorath lavished kisses down Nico’s neck, licking a long stripe along the tattooed image of an arrow piercing an eye along his throat. “But you had your fun earlier, and now it’s my turn.”

There was another tattoo of a broken dagger along his chest, and Lorath followed that with lips and tongue to his nipples, lingering there to enjoy Nico’s moans, hands sliding along his hips, those muscled thighs.

Nico didn’t bother restraining himself, arching into Lorath’s mouth and unabashedly moaning, gripping Lorath’s arms and back and feeling the tense muscles under his grip. Nico could feel a scar along the back of Lorath’s shoulders and his lips ached with the desire to lick it.

“Fuck you’re loud,” Lorath groaned, pausing to rest his head against Nico’s chest in order to catch his breath.

“Me? You’re the one who was practically yelling out to all of Ked Bardu when you had your dick in my mouth earlier. Was tempted to gag you so we wouldn’t get caught.”

Nico wasn’t sure which idea affected Lorath more, but either way Lorath let out a shaky loud moan, hips grinding down against the mattress desperately.

Nico gripped his arms and pulled Lorath back up, kissing him roughly, and flipping them over once more.

“Can you not shut up?” He reached up and pressed two fingers into Lorath’s mouth. Pressing down on his tongue roughly, then pressing deeper into his throat, “This isn’t your cabin in the mountains Lorath. There’re people here, these walls are thin, and everyone is going to hear you getting fucked and moaning for it.”

Lorath just moaned louder, his eyes fluttering shut, his hips arching up, cock rubbing against Nico’s.

Frankly, Nico probably could have cum just from this. But he’d made a promise and it would be in poor taste not to keep it. So, he pulled back and reached out with his other hand for the jar of oil, searching for wherever it had fallen on the bed, and making a triumphant “Ah hah!” when he found it.

He slid down Lorath’s chest again, unable to resist one last kiss to the red and aching cock. He slicked his fingers in the oil and began to prepare Lorath. He was a man on a mission; one finger, then another, using his other hand to spread Lorath’s ass and thighs open further.

He could see Lorath out of the corner of his eyes, one hand gripping the sheets tightly while the other clawed at the wall. He was panting and whining, rocking his hips against Nico’s fingers. Absolutely beautiful.

“Fuck, I’m ready, fucking come here already.”

Nico hummed, curling his fingers once more just to hear Lorath grunt before pulling back and slathering his cock with the oil. He didn’t know how long it had been since Lorath had last been fucked, so he opted for more oil just in case.

He tried to go slowly, careful not to hurt him, but Lorath’s legs wrapped around his waist and pulled him in roughly. As he bottomed out they both let out loud cries.

“O-old man you need to fucking shut it.” Not that he was any better.

He slid back, adjusted his angle, and slid back in. Setting a rough, impatient pace.

Nico wasn’t going to last much longer. Between the days of travel and the earlier incident at the stables, he was reaching his physical limit. He gripped Lorath’s hips tightly and thrust roughly, the cheap bed creaking and shaking with the effort.

“Fucking- fuck, touch yourself.” He pleaded in a shaky voice.

Lorath obeyed. One hand had reached back to press against the headboard, using it to brace himself and press back deeper onto Nico’s cock with every thrust. The other reached down and began to jerkily stroke his own cock.

It was enough to push him over the edge. He moaned loudly, cum splattering all over Nico’s stomach and chest, dripping down to his own stomach.

Nico gripped Lorath’s hips tight enough to leave bruises, and pressed in closer, almost falling over from the force of his own orgasm.

He very carefully pulled out. Lorath looked like a mess, soaked in sweat and cum. The sight was almost enough to push Nico for another round (if he wasn’t already so damn tired).

Lorath’s own exhaustion must have caught up to him because Nico could already see the relaxed muscles and slow heavy blinks giving way to sleep.

Nico longed to join him, but if they fell asleep like this now then the next morning would be even worse.

Groaning, he got up off the bed. There was a pounding at the door and Nico, not bothering to get dressed, stumbled over to it and gingerly cracked it open.

It was the innkeeper, a stern woman who met his gaze unflinchingly.

“Are you two done? People are complaining about the noise.”

Nico glanced over at Lorath, already beginning to doze off.

“Yeah. For tonight at least.”

The innkeeper glared at him for a moment and sighed. She pushed the door open further and Nico realized she was carrying a washbasin full of water, two cloths hanging off the side. She set it down in his room, and handed him two jugs, also filled with water.

“Drink. It is dangerous to get dehydrated in the desert, and your friend had already been drinking for days.” She pointed a finger at Nico’s face, “Make sure both of you drink the whole thing. Understand? I don’t want to have to call the healer because two idiots didn’t drink enough water when having sex in the desert.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She glanced over at Lorath and the filthy sheets with an expression that said she had seen this sort of thing thousands of times before and none of it phased her anymore.

“I’ll bring you some clean sheets as well. It will cost you extra.”

Nico looked over at their discarded clothes, still filthy from their earlier activities.

“I don’t suppose you know anyone who can wash these clothes too?”

She sighed, gathering them up, “There’s a washerwoman who can get these ready for you by the morning. It will cost you extra. I can have them delivered to you in the morning.”

“Let me guess, it will cost me extra?”

She hummed approvingly, “Good. You are learning. Now let my customers sleep in peace or I will throw you out, no matter how much gold you carry, stranger.”

And with that she left.

Nico washed his face in the basin, took one of the cloths and carefully cleaned up Lorath, using the other cloth to wipe himself down as well.

He woke a grumbling Lorath long enough to get him to gulp down the water and pull the soaked sheets out from under him. Then covered him with the clean ones.

There, he hesitated. The spot on the bed next to Lorath looked so inviting. Nico ached to fit himself in that empty spot. To pull Lorath’s head to rest on his chest, card his fingers through that soft grey hair, press his nose against the top of that head, sleep wrapped up together and wake him with a kiss when the sun rose.

Except.

Except that last time, in the cabin, Lorath had (not unkindly, but firmly) kicked him out afterwards. There had been a distinct difference between sex, and the intimacy that came from sleeping beside one another. And Lorath had made it clear that he was far more comfortable with one than the other. Nico didn’t want to cross that boundary without Lorath’s explicit permission. Strange, how it seemed so more intimate than fucking him.

He lingered for a moment, taking in the deep, even breathing, the snoring, Lorath’s face relaxed in post-orgasmic sleep in a way that it never did while awake. Nico sat at the edge of the bed and watched him sleep. Like a dog, hoping his master would notice his silent plea and give him permission to climb up onto the bed.

But of course, Lorath did not.

Eventually the exhaustion won out. He grabbed one of the extra sheets, picking a suitable-looking spot on the floor to lie on and wrapped it around himself. It was a warm night thankfully, and he’d slept on harder surfaces before.

In the morning the hunt for Lilith would continue. Lorath would have to tell him what he’d discovered about the Pale Man, and Nico would tell him about the mess in Scosglen and the Temple of the Firstborn.

But not tonight. Tonight they would rest.

[necr0-mantix]

// We started playing Heroes of the Storm again a few times a week to help with some therapy shit for me - don't ask - and I swear to fuck it's such a shame it's in maintenance right now.

Inarius skin for Tyrael. Lilith skin for Kerrigan. Rathma skin for Xul. Lorath skin for Cain.

Like, come on. Praying Microsoft does something because HoTS is sincerely the best game Blizzard has right now, and they're just letting it rot.

Also, come play with us. I am learning how to main Malthael after 5+ years of Sylv and Valla and it's funny.

[frostwraith]

Hello ʕ•̫͡•ʔ I saw you answer about how would react Imperius if he had a son and so I wanted to ask you How do you think Malthael would react if he find out that he have a son? Of course Malthael has NEVER touched a woman, the birth of this kid is a complete mystery!

About his son: He's 13~14, he have black messy hair and purple eyes (like his wings), he mainly wears black and....Except for his fashion this is really hard to believe that he's Malthael's son He's bold and sassy (especially with Imperius cuz he hate Imperius's arrogance and he call him a racist) BUT he's a genius, however a little erratic and crazy one(because of his dark past...EVEN IF DAMNIT DAWG, HES TOO YOUNG FOR A SUCH LIL' TWISTED MIND) and he's like « Bruh, this frightening twig is my father? :O »

I had already asked this question to someone but I want to know the opinions of several people

(And question for you: Who’s your LOVER in Diablo ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° 👉👈 Me this is Tyrael because he’s the less insane EVEN IF HE DIE 😭..)

Thanks for asking! 😆😆

If Malthael knew about the existence of this child, he would probably remain composed on the surface, but deep down, he would be obsessed with Chalad'ar day and night to figure out the reason. 😓😓

Imperius might complain to Malthael about this child (I tend to think that Imperius is more concerned about his brother's feelings, so his 'complaints' wouldn't be too serious) - this adds to Malthael's contemplation, or I should say, it messes with his thoughts, and he would probably be struggling and trying to communicate with this child at the same time.😅

When it comes to favorite characters, I love each one I see, hope nobody minds that, haha.😋😋😋

[fluff-and-such]

How does Rathma react to Inarius after he calms down?( If at all :D ) That's one curiosity. Another is that as the guys are currently standing (Muffy I don't know if he's angry or curious, I couldn't tell) fluff rathma walks in determined to drag Inarius and Muffy back. That is, if he can travel. And of course I'm curious about Malthael's curiosity myself.

Okay even after explanations, Rathma is still extremely uncomfortable with Inarius. His relationship with his own father is monstrously complicated, and this is basically a twilight-zone version of that.

Fluffy-Inarius is overly-friendly, as compensation for being big and scary but also for being a legitimate monster in the past. He ate some of the nephalem who rebelled, and then blew Fluffy-Rathma's wings off himself. Of course, he has no way of knowing CantankerRat's exact experiences with his own Inarius, but he just generally assumes it was nothing good, and tries to be way-too-nice as a weird quasi-apology.

All this results in an all around uncomfortable and awkward experience for CantankerRat.

Although he might come around after a few rounds of German-Shepherding by Ina.

If there's one thing Inarius excels at, its scaring people away from Depressive Death Boys. Rathma can appreciate a sentient shield.

As for Muffy, he just gets his ass kicked by his own Fluffy-Rathma. He wouldn't have much of an opinion on Mat, although he vaguely doesn't care for other Malthaels in general. (Funny enough, across fandom, it's been rare for two Malthaels to really get along. They tend to argue and be too sure of themselves to have a proper conversation that isn't just Smartass-Pissing-Contest)

F-R could care less what Ina does with his time, be that hassling Malthaels, hassling Rathmas, or getting hassled by Izuals. If they happen to end up in the same dimension, on the same planet, Oh Well. It's not his business, and he'd like to keep it that way.

Sorry CantankerRat, you're on your own.

At least he has Mat.

Sort of.

[dangergrandpa]

*Lurk in shadows* Hellou, how's Little note? im actualy on another round of rereading LN a NBJB xD Thank you for answer :)

Hello!! I'm glad you're enjoying them so much! =^.^=

Little Note will be updated at some point, when I get the inspiration and motivation to work on it again. It's not abandoned, don't worry! I'm just going through. A lot, tbh. First being put off by a particularly unpleasant person in the fandom, then other games dropped updates, and now irl stuff that's been taking precedent.

[diablo-that-first-spark]

Then There Were Five - Tyrael -ref sheet-

"Then There Were Five" is a 18-page-long (+ a cover) fancomic that dives into the distant past of the Diablo universe, narrated by Archangel Malthael. When the High Heavens were still young and the Eternal Conflict had yet to truly take place, there had been four Archangels - Malthael as Wisdom, Auriel as Hope, Tyrael as Justice and the youngest, Imperius as Valor. All was in balance, and all was good. That is, until the Crystal Arch itself disrupts it all, by unexpectedly giving birth to a fifth.

Stalwart, unbiased and focused. Tyrael, the second youngest of the council certainly makes an excellent judge and the very backbone of law and order within the High Heavens. His nigh-emotionless existence ensures he is impartial and always in balance, and both guilt and innocence will be unearthed under his watchful gaze, no matter the situation. Next to all this, Tyrael is also a good warrior and his symbol of power, El'druin can cut through just about anything and everything. With him and his angels aiding Imperius's ilk, these strange "daemons" cannot possibly stand against the Angelic Host for long!

---

Somehow, Tyrael was harder to get right than Imperius was. No idea, maybe my brain just backfired. Don't ask.

Oh fun fact! Did you know that Precious Cinnamon Roll and Bona Fide HERO Tyrael used to be an emotionless judgement machine basically? It is canon! It was the eventual disastrous mega-clash of angels, demons, Inarius and a budding nephalem army, Uldyssian's sacrifice and the sparing of Sanctuary that started turning Tyrael into the HERO he is today. Since this comic is set waaaay before even Inarius himself, let alone Sanctuary, Tyrael will be a far different character than in D3. Apologies in advance, but the lore is sacred.

2023.01.31.

[heavenlycorespondant]

OC Fact Swap - from Fluff

Endarius, being a Chronicler for the Heavens, occasionally has to wrangle information out of some very stubborn Archangels. Surprisingly not the ones you might expect; Malthael always has a concise retelling on hand, Imperius will readily tell tales to any who ask (but bring pen and parchment), and Tyrael is very good at summarizing.

No, it's Itherael and Auriel causing problems. Auriel will just plain forget it needs to be done, Itherael assumes it either has already happened, or that it doesn't need to happen at all (it's all in their Scroll after all. Somewhere.) As such, Endarius has gotten pretty used to chasing the Archangels of Fate and Hope down, and not letting them go until he's bullied a detailed account out of them. Auriel is nice about this!

Itherael is not.

Oh my, writing Chronicles is so complicated. I wish luck the poor guy. Speaking of troubles with getting information outta archangels. She usually speaks mostly with Itherael and Malthael, because they are the best sources of information. Imperius has a tendency to slightly change the story, usually making victories bigger, and failures smaller. For Tyrael, it usually takes a really long time before he remembers the event he is asked about. Ask him about the law, and he will answer immediately. But ask him about what happened at his friend's wedding, and he will think about ours. Possibly he has insufficient memory for events, like a phone. And she doesn't talk very often with Auriel for two reasons. 1) She has a BIG crush on her and usually starts to stutter when she just sees her. 2) It's really hard to catch Auriel. She is so busy, as the best medic in all Heavens. From Gabriel herself: I really wish to meet all those angels who are mentioned here.

[chimerabytes]

Imperius is not a highly affectionate person. He is stubborn and his temper is a ticking time bomb. He is fiery, passionate, and is the 'shoot first, ask later' type of person. Imperius' inner world is an intensely complicated machination nigh impossible to ponder. He is an impenetrable wall of sheer force and willpower. Even to his 'closest' allies, Imperius still feels so distant to everyone around him.

But he still loves.

He assisted the Nephalem in getting the keys needed to activate the battering ram to breach Pandemonium. He could not- would not- go any further. Imperius saw what Malthael had become... And lacked courage to face him. His valor, challenged and shattered in the face of his love for his fellow angel...

... and that broke me. It broke my heart seeing Imperius assist us, in the way he knew best. Only to see he did not want to go any further. To see that there was still something in him, that he did not want to face his corrupted brother.