#e reads lord of chaos

[aethon-recs]

This Week (x2) in Tomarrymort (22 November – 6 December 2024)

Hi everyone! We’ve had some incredible fic completed in the last couple of weeks, so I’ll highlight those here, before we get into the One Shot and Multi-Chaptered recs below.

Completed Fic:

in the silence by @satflesk22 (E, 48k, complete)

There's a new student at Hogwarts. And, for some reason, he's decided he's going to be Tom Riddle's best friend. Tom, immortal aspiring Dark Lord, apparently has no say in the matter.

You By The Shore by @blackseatwenty (E, 19k, complete)

Harry's grown on the island his whole life. He fell in love with a stranger standing alone by the shore. Or is it crazy to believe in love at first sight?

two ways of being: the noun & the verb by cycloalkane (NR, 8k, complete)

Potter is finishing up with his sketch of the craniofacial structure. There is still more of his body to go, and more sessions left, and Tom cannot be sure whether he wants the precise drawings to be more or less—true, at all, if he could even describe them as untruthful. They aren’t beautiful as Tom is in the mirror, but they are still, undeniably, him, with the eye of someone learning to cut people apart and look beneath their skin, still bloodless yet, and—well. The drawings have a certain quality, something that, perhaps, he’s reading too much into, having associated the sketching with the pose (and Tom, even if he'd never admit it, has always enjoyed being admired), and the look of green eyes flickering between paper and flesh: concentration, in some cases, is only another word for vehemence.

thrown into the nest by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts (T, 12k, complete)

Harry had assumed he was a beta. Well, he had after someone explained the absolute nonsense of secondary genders in mages to him. Then, at the age of sixteen-and-a-half, years after most people present, Harry’s body decides it’s now an omega. It did not consult the rest of him and he’s frankly a little miffed.

*

Tomarrymort One Shots and Completed Fic

Complete | Chapter 12 of in the silence by @satflesk22

Complete | Chapter 5 of You By The Shore by @blackseatwenty

Complete | Chapter 2 of two ways of being: the noun & the verb by cycloalkane

Complete | Chapter 5 of thrown into the nest by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts

One Shot | The Dark Lord's Hand by @lialepoisson

One Shot | inside (out) by @milkandmoon-ao3

*

Tomarrymort Ongoing Fics

Chapter 13 of Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

Chapter 21 of Heir Apparent by @monsieurclavier

Chapter 66 of draw me after you (let us run) by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger

Chapter 9 of Stygian by @crowcrowcrowthing

Chapter 23 of Paved With the Best Intentions by @perhaps-sunlight

Chapter 17 of Pledged by @moontearpensfic 

Chapters 15 and 16 of Hole in the Wall by @elddrmot

Chapter 1 of On the subject of wanting by @themothatyourdoor

Chapters 135 through 137 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis

Chapter 1 of In the Shape of Fear, Erised by @rowena-rain

Chapter 3 of A Murder by Crows by @iseliljathedreamer

Chapter 6 of Saturnalia by @the-wig-is-a-metaphor

Chapter 11 of Strings of Fate by @dizzydreamer

Chapters 7 and 8 of you speak of the devil (like he's not your friend) by @amuria

Chapter 22 of Outrunning the Villain in You by @zenyteehee

Chapter 26 of Time Stumbler by @wintumnly

Chapter 4 of Goodbye Evergreen by @v33r00 

Chapter 7 of Dreams Beyond Blood by @hikarimeroperiddle

Chapters 15 through 18 of Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear

Chapter 64 of Holly & Yew by @lovely-lotus

Chapter 3 of Auror Potter by @albondiguilla007

Chapter 19 of with eyes like these (who sees anybody else) by @cealesti

Chapters 10 and 11 of Venom or Valor by @lightningant

Chapter 26 of would that i'd loved (long ago) by @sprst1tion

Chapter 10 of A Snake in the Grass by @teaandsweaters9

*

[sindar-princeling]

LOTR Newsletter 3 Shire Drift - FAQ

Hello everyone!

Just like last year: for those of you who are already familiar with The Lord of the Rings Newsletter, this serves as an announcement that I'm doing it again; and for those who aren't - an introduction to the project :)

What is LOTR Newsletter?

I'm one of the people who subscribed to Dracula Daily in May 2022, and immediately thought, "Hey, I can do this too but with XYZ!" - XYZ being The Lord of the Rings. Because the events of LOTR also have specific dates ascribed to them, we're gonna be reading LOTR as it happened.

When does it take place?

Because of the way the beginning of LOTR is structured (read: because I don't want to leave six-month-long breaks between the first entries), we're gonna start on September 15th - a week before September 22nd, when the main events start to take place. It's also the publishing date of the Silmarillion, but that's just a fun fact for my own enjoyment.

From September 15th to September 19th, we'll read the prologue, and the fragments preceding Frodo's departure from the Shire. From September 20th, we'll be reading according to the dates in the book until April 8th. Then we'll be reading last parts of the book - which are stretched over a long time - once a week, to once again avoid lengthy breaks in delivery.

The Newsletter will last from September 15th to May 26th.

Where do I go if I want to post/talk about something related to the Newsletter with other readers?

We discuss current (and not only current) entries in the #lotr newsletter tag, and we have a Discord server set by the amazing @k-she-rambles! (I really hope this time I managed to generate a link that never expires...)

How do I subscribe?

Since the original platform I was using (TinyLetter) was shut down halfway through the second year of the newsletter, I had to figure out an alternative way to execute this project.

For the lovely people who joined the last edition of the newsletter, just a short announcement - I weighed all the pros and cons and decided to continue carrying out the newsletter the way I did after TinyLetter shut down.

For the new folks, a lengthier explanation: check out this post if you want to learn the details, but long story short: I can't send the newsletter as e-mails anymore, so instead I decided to provide you with a ready copy of the entire thing. I prepared formatted copies of the whole newsletter - September 15th to May 26th - as an .odt file, as a .pdf file, and most importantly as an .epub file, because I assume most of you are reading on your phones (if you don't already have an .epub reader, I use FBReader, and everything worked fine on my phone). At the beginning you'll find the whole table of contents with hyperlinks, so the navigation inside the document should be easy!

The MEGA folder can be accessed right here, and it's available for everyone!

In the folder linked, you'll also find a calendar file made by @none-ofthisnonsense that you can download on your phone and import into your calendar app so that all days when we read are marked in your calendar!

If you want to receive notifications about when there is an entry to read, you can also follow @is-today-a-lotr-newsletter-day and turn on notifications! This is a blog created solely for notifying you all when we're reading a new fragment of the newsletter, so all notifications you'll get will be about new entries, and nothing more. The notifications are meant to be the equivalent of sending e-mails.

Anything else I should know?

Please don't rat me out to Tolkien Estate/j, and have fun reading!

(And as a PS.: Thank you very much if you join - or join again! Last year was very tumultuous because of all the changes in the format, and I know the new way is not for everyone - but introducing more changes again felt like once more creating new chaos, so I decided to stick to a solution that mostly worked. I hope you understand!)

See you on September 15th!

[rebecca-lotto]

okay i may have been reading too many historical dramas

but shit gon be wild if the rumors that the next world is Dr ratio's home planet turns out to be true .

like , good lord the plot may straight up turn into a danmei story featuring Dr ratio and aventurine as the leads.

well, the good dr. and his dear gambler are the leads , but the majority of the story is told through the perspective of 3 travelers ( stelle/caelus , dan heng and march 7th)

i swear to Aha , if dr ratio turns out to be a runaway royal , i'm gonna s c r e a m . man really is heroine coded, and aventurine continues to be the luckiest bastard alive(affectionate) .

(*Φ皿Φ*) im gonna bite my laptop 'cuz this shit's got me a bit feral ; like maybe Dr ratio ran away from home and became a doctor b/c he was beyond fed up with his family's drama.

then penacony happens , and later he & aventurine adopt the triplets

so , while Dr ratio and his dear gambler are all but outright officially married and raising their 3 cats , dr ratio's homeplanet is in utter chaos while this adorable slice of life romcom plays out.

maybe Dr ratio and aventurine are pulled into the story when a distress signal from Dr Ratio's mother is sent out..

[modelbus]

Ahem- hey- uh- I-

…NOW I FEEL LIKE TOMMY TUBBO WILBUR AND RANBOO IN PART TWO- HELP FFJYTFJHTYTFTH

SOOOOO- HI THERE ITS ME ✨🌌🌙 ANNON, THE DISAPPEARING ANNON- LOOK- I-

OKAY SO EXPLANATION TIME, I HONESTLY THOUGHT MY CRAPPY REQUEST WOULD BE IGNORED- I ALSO HAVE NOT BEEN ON TUMBLR SINCE LIKE A WEEK AFTER I SENT IT- I COME BACK TO READ SOME STUFF FROM OUR GOOD OLD LORD AND SAVIOR MODEL, TO SEE; ONE IT WAS RECENTLY YA BIRTHDAY! (Happy late birthday-) AND TWO.. MY REQUEST WAS TURNED INTO A MASTER PEICE OF AGES WITH TWO WHOLE PARTS, I APPARENTLY HELPED GET YOU OUT OF A WRITING SLUM- AND PEOPLE ACTUALLY REALLY LIKED MY CRUMMY IDEA (Thanks to your POGGERS writing)

so basically- THANK YOU ‘O GREAT MODEL FOR HEARING MY PLEA AND DELIVERING GREATNESS!!!

also I am gonna try and be more active on tumblr now so like- yey.

ALSO ALSO, I may sometimes send in requests of my silly little ideas cuz like chaos cut fed my soul and I am now the ✨ H a p p e h ✨

ALSO ALSO ALSO, part three of chaos cut???, we are at home and get messages asking like “Yo we good now? You forgive us for being assholes??” and we say smth like “you gonna respond to my messages? Then sure” some kind of tweet is made could be as vague as “shes gonna be in videos again yayyy” or could be the group admitting to what happened?? *eyes* maybe responses from other friends?? Ofc that is a suggestion for if you decide to further continue.

wether you decide to continue it or not or you decide to use this or not, thank you so much, chaos cut was all I wanted it to be and more.

I’M BACK BABYYY!!

-All the love, ✨🌌🌙 Annon.

You live!! And I’d love to receive more of your amazing little ideas :) honestly, I’d write 500 parts of Cut Chaos

I probably formatted this weird because of the messages part and the Twitter part but Oh Well.

Pairing(s): cc!Ranboo, cc!Tubbo, cc!Wilbur and cc!Tommy x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Cut Chaos Part 3

The day you spent with Ranboo, Tubbo, Wilbur, and Tommy after the store might’ve been the best day you’ve ever had. You’re finally able to breathe again, to laugh again. Smiling had started drifting away from you, but suddenly you were smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

You almost don’t go home. It’s tempting to stay with Ranboo when he offers up one of their many spare bedrooms (and you do mean many), but you decline. Heading back home, closing the door to your bedroom is easier than it’s ever been. Just living is easier than it used to be.

Collapsing onto your bed, it only takes you a second before you start grinning like an idiot to yourself. Things are back to normal, back to how they should be. Sure, you could still be mad at them for what happened, but you were tired of not being around them. Tired of people being pissed off.

It takes you a full three minutes before you roll onto your side and unlock your phone with Face ID. There’s a plethora of notifications waiting for you, from a group chat that you thought was a ghost town. It makes you grin all over again.

Wilbur so we’re all good now?

Tommy yeah, u forgive us for being assholes??

Tubbo Becuase we r super sorry

You You guys gonna respond to my messages from now on?

Ranboo I promise on Tommy’s life

You Then yeah

Tommy HEY

Laughing to yourself, you swipe out of messages to open Twitter and scroll on it. You aren’t afraid to open it, not like you used to be. Random tweets would remind you of what you lost, of the various people confused why you lost it, but now you’re just giddy. Overjoyed.

Part of you wanted to announce the plans you made with Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo. Scream from the (metaphorical) rooftops of Twitter that you were back. The chaos squad was back.

But, as it turns out, Tommy beat you to it. Of course he did, he can’t keep his mouth shut for the life of him. In a loving way, of course.

tommyinnit ﹫Tommyaltinnit guess who is BACK in the NEW VLOG

|_ You ﹫Yourusername me BITCHES

|_ Nia ﹫randomfanpersondontworry OMG OMG OMG NO WAY !!! CHAOS SQUAD ISNT DEAD FUCK ALL OF YOU IM WINNING TODAY

You grin, scrolling through the replies to Tommy’s tweet—including Tubbo and Ranboo’s—then realize the group name is trending. With wide eyes, you switch what you’re scrolling through to read the new tweets.

Annon ﹫StarStarMoon Anyone know what happened between the chaos squad??? Like they all drop her and now she’s back?? Something definitely happened…

|_ Real Person ﹫RealpersonIcreated THIS! Why did nobody talk about it. I wanna know fr fr

|_ Max ﹫Myfriendsnameisbeingused I think they all dropped her over those rumors ages ago. Makes sense to me tbh

|_ Charlie ﹫Myotherfriendsnameisbeingused Totally on her side if something did happen honestly lmao

Oh, fuck. You hesitate, not sure what to do, then ignore the tweet and its replies. Things were good, you didn’t need to dwell on when they were bad. Let people be people and let them speculate all they want.

This was your life and your happiness. Returned, at last.

[agardenandlibrary]

25 Books to Read in 2025

tagged by @aliteraryprincess! thanks!

I made a lot of progress on series this year, I'd love to finish up the ones I started.

finish the Vorkosigan Saga for REAL

Worn by Sofi Thanhauser (I started it in 2024! but stalled!)

To Shape a Dragon's Breath

Sunbringer

The Tomb of Dragons (!!!)

Goddess of the River

more T. Kingfisher, maybe the Paladin's books

Braiding Sweetgrass

A Desolation Called Peace

Ancillary Justice

Nine Worlds books by Victoria Goddard

Lord of Chaos

I'd love to read the Lord of the Rings soon too

finish up the Briggs Mercy Thompson books

re-read Revenant Gun

Bloodmarked

Another Emma Southon!

The God of Endings

The Stories of Ibis (on loan from my sister)

The Bone Shard books 2&3 by Andrea Stewart

The World We Made by N.K. Jemisin

Contact by Carl Sagan

Queen Demon!

another Elizabeth Kostova book? anyone read them and recommend one?

The Vanished Birds by Simon Jimenez

Not sure who's been tagged or done these yet. Tagging in case folks would like to do it: @elfspectations @e-b-reads @longsightmyth @maddiesbookshelves @profiterole-reads

Happy almost new year!

[dailydemonspotlight]

To govern the sea... A primordial goddess... Faster than humans can fill the land… Faster than the humans can destroy the planet... the MOTHER OF CHAOS...

TIAMAT - Day 150

Race: Drake Alignment: Dark-Chaos January 1st, 2025 This DDS will contain spoilers for SMT V: Vengeance! Don't read and scroll past if you wanna avoid them!

Good lord, was this a long time coming. Sorry about the constant teases, I've been going through some life stuff, but we've resolved it just in time for today's analysis, and one that I can't wait to dig into. I just got to the Tiamat portions of SMT V: Vengeance, and they've hooked me like nothing else in this series so far, but even before that I was always drawn to Tiamat for a variety of reasons (and no it wasn't the tits); she held a prominence and power throughout the series much like another, incredibly powerful and important demon, Masakado, and it always caught my interest. Tiamat has played a role in many of the games she has appeared in, whether it be a major boss in Strange Journey or, well, the final fucking boss in SMT V: Vengeance. Even in the games where she doesn't appear in the story, eg SMT IV, she still appears as an incredibly powerful and noteworthy demon, and that's always caught my ire.

However, once you begin to look at what Tiamat is, it begins to make sense- in ancient Mesopotamian myth, while elusive to much of cuneiform literature, she plays an incredibly important (and terrifying) role in being the embodiment of the primordial sea and chaos itself, particularly in the form of the chaos of creation. There's a lot of Mesopotamian lore surrounding Tiamat and her being that I can't quite get into here due to us possibly being here all day with it, but I'll give the best rundown I can. Special thanks to @yamayuandadu for providing me an incredibly good source for this DDS- they do amazing work.

Tiamat is described in Lugal-e 334, first pictured as the whipping oceans that arrive after the defeat of Asakku, though not directly stated. She appears as the ocean itself, representing the sea in all of its power and terror- the primordial birthplace of all life, not just in history but also in Mesopotamian mythology as far as I'm aware. An Akkadian fragment (Sm 1875) describes the sea as a being itself, one who battles with Ninurta, the god of farming in Mesopotamian mythology. Unfortunately, the passage is fragmentary, so all we can really glean is that Ninurta fought sea monsters and that the sea itself was sentient, likely being Tiamat. However, our first concrete reference to Tiamat is in the epic Enūma Eliš, which describes Tiamat and her battle with another major deity, being Marduk. The tale describes Tiamat, the sea itself, representing the salty and bitter waters of the sea, alongside another being- Apsu, the deity representing fresh, sweet water. The two immediately got to mingling upon establishing themselves, giving birth to several beings known as the younger gods.

However, there was a problem that plagued Tiamat, one that plagues many other married couples as well, and that was that the younger gods were too loud, keeping Apsu up all night. Deciding that enough was enough, Apsu devised a plan with the help of his vizier to kill his own children, causing Tiamat to warn her youngest son, Enki, the younger god of water. This, however, led Enki to attack and kill Apsu, using his remains as his new home, enraging Tiamat. I mean, I can't really blame her- if you told your kid that your husband was going to kill them, and they killed him instead, you'd probably be furious too. This eventually lead to a war breaking out between the gods and Tiamat, though, who found themselves overwhelmed and ultimately defeated by her. That is, until the god Marduk rallied them all, and finally got the upper hand in the battle, striking down Tiamat and tearing her in two, from which he'd use her body to form the Euphrates river and Tigris river.

Ultimately, though, Tiamat's role was palpable- she was the primordial sea, the chaos of the world before it eventually was situated. The victory over Tiamat was celebrated in the new year festivals of ancient Mesopotamia, celebrating Marduk's accomplishments, tying a neat little bow as to why I waited this long for this analysis. With all of that, though, it's easy to see why Tiamat was selected as such a major and powerful figure in the SMT series; she served, in her time alive, as the embodiment of chaos itself, the primordial seas lashing out against the younger gods and their attempts of establishing order. There's a lot more to Tiamat, and I'd recommend doing your own research- much of her history is hidden in fragmentary passages, but what we can piece together is utterly fascinating.

Much of her ancient portrayals were similar to that of sea serpents, likely derived from the waves themselves, tying well into her design in SMT. I rather like how her design in Strange Journey takes less from her more 'dragon-y' aspects and more from her role as the goddess of the ocean, her body made and formed from water and her role as the mother of the young gods shown in the absurd amount of boobs she has. This isn't to say her other designs are bad, though- her design in SMT II is a fun take on her concept that plays more into her traditionally dragon adjacent design, while her design in SMT V is utterly terrifying, a towering drake with lashing heads of several other creatures, also playing into many more pop-cultural ideas about Tiamat, likely derived from depictions of her having the multiple heads of multiple animals. Overall, though, the primordial chaos Tiamat represents is a fascinating aspect of Mesopotamian mythology, and she, herself, serves as an incredibly interesting being.

[erisweekofficial]

Tonight we're highlighting @chairofchaos!

🔥 Choas is a masterful Azris writer that has our hearts in her hands. If you're looking for something delightfully angsty or heartfelt (or both), look no further than her writing.

Although all of her work is amazing, we're currently crying over Letters of Love, which details Eris and Azriel falling in love and their relationship over time. Definitely get some tissues for this one. 😭😭And if you can't take our word for it take one of her fans:

The Letters of Love series has me spellbound in a way I can not describe. The love, the angst, the writing! I will forever cherish it. Chaos is truly a wonderful writer even if she is chaotic and I will devour this series until the end of time.

Be sure to check out their masterlist, including this Azris drabble!

Read on to learn some of Chaos's favorite Eris headcanons and which national/regional park Eris would get lost and die (or not die) in.

yes. we asked this.

Give us a name for one of Eris’ Brothers

James (so that he can use the “Um. James…” TikTok sound. A modern Eris would secretly have a TikTok. Super secret, but he would have one). Also, a relatively modern name simply because I’m tired of trying to get my word processor to recognize the validity of “Eris” and “Feyre” and even “Elain.” (No, do not add an “e”. I said, DO NOT ADD AN “E”!)

Give us a name for one of Eris’ hounds

Butter. Eris named him as a child because the hound liked to steal things off the kitchen counter, and the first thing he ever stole was a stick of butter. Eris got in a little trouble for it, so the official story is that his fur was lighter than is typical for a smokehound, and smooth like butter. The truth is that he fell in love with the little thief, and wanted to commemorate that first occurrence of thievery. It was a subtle act of rebellion on Eris’ part, and the chef was not pleased when he heard.

Give us some of your favorite Eris headcanons!

Eris is the family secret keeper. His mother tells him things. Lucien tells him things. His other brothers don’t mean to tell him things, but they drop hints and he’s smart enough to put things together. He goes unnoticed by adults as a young person, and is able to gather more information than anyone thought was possible. In doing so, he accidentally positions himself as knowledgeable on many family and court matters he probably shouldn’t even have known about in the first place. People also have a habit of just sharing things with him at random times, so he knows a considerable amount about each of the family guards, the Autumn Council, and their families. He’s a favorite with the court gossips because he will listen. He will rarely contribute, but he will always listen. As a result, everyone in court believes he is on their side. How this will play out when he is High Lord, Eris has no idea. For now, he’s happy hearing their tales of woe. Lord Cherry’s son eloped with the royal groundskeeper who taught Eris how to garden? Eris is absolutely shocked! Of course, he was the one who gave them a carriage to go to Spring, but Lord Cherry doesn’t need to know that.

Who scares Eris the most?

Eris is most scared of himself. I saw a post just the other day where a person told their therapist they were worried they would destroy everything, and their therapist told them they didn’t have that kind of power. They found it helpful because knowing you don’t have the power to change huge things in rage helped them. The difference here is that Eris has that kind of power by his proximity to societal power and his literal powers. He can destroy everything that matters to him if he is careless enough, and that terrifies him. He fears he would be powerful enough to change the world, and wishes he did not have that amount of power, because he has seen first hand how power corrupts. Outside of himself, he is most scared of Lucien. Lucien has more power than he could even imagine, and Eris isn’t sure his brother knows. At the same time, he fears the day Lucien discovers Eris knew, and that Lucien will never forgive him for keeping the knowledge to himself.

What kind of father does Eris imagine he would be, and does that differ from his actual father?

Eris imagines himself to be a brutal, unyielding, possibly even abusive father, as Beron was. He has never known a loving father, and while he believes it is theoretically possible, he looks in the mirror and sees Beron staring back at him. In every way possible, Beron has shaped Eris to be unforgiving, unyielding, brutal, and cruel. Eris worries that he will become Beron if he has children. It takes someone telling him that his worries and fear of becoming his father are what can keep him from becoming Beron. He needs a lot of support to feel confident enough that it is possible in order to become a father at all. Once he has that support, I think he does everything he can to be a better father than the one he had.

What national/regional park would Eris get lost and die (or not die) in?

Eris is dying in Petrified Forest National Park as we speak. He’s dying of heat related injuries and sun exposure. That male was not made for the desert. Fire powers cannot save you from the Arizona sun.

[aspiringtrashpanda]

DAY! NUMBER! TWO! Find the prompt list HERE.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

DAY 2 Prompt: Reminiscence Spoilers for Simeon's role (OG 24-17)

Simeon stares down at the blank page before him. The thin, printed lines meant to support each weighty word grow bolder by the seconds tick-tick-tocking from the grandfather clock nestled in the corner of his room. They swell so large, he no longer has any space to write.

He regrets his notebook decision. The orchid themed booklet on display in the store window had been so pretty, had stoked this idea in his mind that the Lord of Lechery would display his favorite flowers in the arched windows of his castle. Henry would have given him the orchid - as white and pure as paper free of ink. 

But no, he had defaulted to the bland, leather-bound notebook. Nondescript, with those lines that demanded structure. An opening sentence. A climax. A resolution.

With a sigh, Simeon lets his head loll back, pushes his chair onto its back legs and balances preciously between expectation and chaos. Watching the dust dance in the lamplight of his room, he considers the characters that he himself had brought to life.

Luke had asked him once if The Tale of the Seven Lords was inspired by Lucifer and his brothers. Simeon had responded with an obvious yes, of course. Though, the more he wrote, the less his creations seemed to mirror their counterparts. 

He wasn’t sure if it was the rose-colored glasses of nostalgia warping his perception of those he had considered his closest friends. Those he still considers his closest friends. Well, other than Solomon. And Luke. But… well, it wasn’t the same. Simeon knew Lucifer and his chosen family as angels. He knows them as demons. And yet, sometimes they still feel like strangers, just out of reach, synonyms on a page that don’t quite convey the intended meaning. 

There were traits that only grew in prominence since the Great Celestial War–like Belphegor’s affinity for naps, and Leviathan’s shut-in tendencies–but as their title sins weighed heavy on their shoulders, Simeon found the actions of those he used to call his family more difficult to predict. Mammon’s greed, born from a genuine desire to succeed, evolved into ulterior motive. Asmodeus’s need for external validation rendered him weak to batted eyes and a gentle touch. 

Then, there was Satan. Naturally, Simeon wants to attribute that missing piece of the Lucifer he once knew to the carefully composed “fourth” born. Though, that would be an insult to Satan, to the Lord of Masks. He is so much more than what he is not, and for a moment, Simeon wonders what it would have been like to share his space in the clouds above. 

Ah, the Celestial Realm. He can still see the brilliant light of the sun when he allows his eyes to flutter shut, pure warmth bathing the virtuous in shades of gold. It was never as warm after the war. Or perhaps he’s reading into things. Current feelings. Memory is awfully fickle, isn’t it? 

Simeon used to write in the greenhouse, by his garden of roses. Roses of a ruby red bright enough to accent Michael’s dinner, a single flower bursting from a tiny vase to the right of his plate. Raphael would sing as he prepared a pot of tea. 

Simeon smiles, though it is devoid of any mirth.

Raphael is still willing to sing Simeon’s favorite hymns–the seraph’s rich tenor a balm on any wounded soul–but Simeon knows better. It will never be the same. Not without the rustle of pages under Lucifer’s index finger, not without the brilliant sets of ivory plumage draped over a garden chair. 

He wonders if Lucifer enjoys reading as much as he used to. Was that trait given to Satan, or do they share a passion for knowledge between them?

Simeon frowns down at the blot of ink, seeping from his pen onto that dreadful lined paper. He’s been frowning a lot more, these days.

“Simeon?” Luke’s interruption is timid, his hands gripping the door frame. Concern dances in the innocent eyes of a child who has yet to experience loss.

“I’m fine,” Simeon reassures, “I suppose I’m a little homesick.”

Though for where, he is no longer certain. 

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

OBEY ME! MONTH MASTERLIST

[urhouseisnthauntedurjustlonely]

Deciphering the Black Book pt. 2

BLACK BOOK ART CREDIT: @thirdchildart

Part One. Part Three.

It’s the table of contents, y’all! Let’s do this.

Spoilers: Hatchetfield. At this point, it’s just Hatchetfield. It’d probably be easier to list what I didn’t talk about or allude to.

I’m not going to, but it’d be easier.

Ment.: H.P. Lovecraft

This is will be broken into parts, and then my analysis will follow!

1.

Part One - History and [S?t_f_d]

[?]

theatre

Part Two - Into the black

[Th?]/Kingdom

oblivion

Analysis:

The word ‘theatre’ shows up three times and the word ‘oblivion’ shows up twice in the table of contents. The Starlight Theatre is obviously super important to point where I don’t really need to say anymore on that right now.

Not gonna lie, at first, I thought it said ‘Random’ and pictured Willabella Muckwab writing random thoughts. I’d really like to see those. I bet she has crude doodles. Anyways— Kingdom!

‘The Summoning’ - “We dance around the pentagram, and take all our kingdoms back”

‘Oblivion’ is not just a word, but a concept heavily explored by H.P. Lovecraft and Isaac Newton, and the musicals themselves.

To some, oblivion is the state of total blackness, a place where everything is and is not, it is nothingness, and the knowledge that something resides within it. Take your pick. The point is to find what that means to you.

2.

3.

(totally stolen from: @hatchetfieldtheories)

Part Three - the men

The contents of this section are the same as part four. It was just flipped.*

Analysis:

If it is ‘the men’, I assume it’s about the Hatchetmen. Maybe some family history and stuff like that. Weaknesses, favorite characters from Alf, your guess is as good as mine.*

4.

A[?]

1 - [?]

2. Theatre

3. rea[lm] of [?]

4. america

oblivion

Analysis:

Oop! Here’s ‘theatre’ and ‘oblivion’ again! Honestly? Shrug emoji. My closest guess would be places that are susceptible to the Lords in Black/the Black and White. Why? Because of the words ‘theatre’ and ‘america’. Let’s take a look at this simple snippet from Black Friday:

“Only in America could Wiggly take root ... You think that in the Netherlands, they’d give a shit about some toy? No, they’re too busy on their paid vacations and the free healthcare.” - Uncle Wiley (spitting bars)

Number one looks like the same scribble as the first bullet in Part One, though.* For number three, I see ‘r-e-a’ pretty clearly, so ‘realm’ is context clues based. We’ll mosey on over to Hatchetfield’s little bio.

“In a realm outside of reality, somewhere in the crossroads of imagination and nightmares, there’s a place— a small, mid-western town, where the forces of evil and chaos tug at the fabric of reality. Welcome to Hatchetfield.” - Nick Lang

5.

Part 4 - The Lords in Black

Pokotho

theatre

believe

[?]

never

[Nibbly/Nibbles(?)]

[Queen?]

[?]

[?]

Analysis:

The contents under Part Four are the same as Part Three, but were flipped by the actual artist to fill space (I assume).

Here is that word ‘theatre’ once again! Why do I think the word under it is ’believe’? Simple! In the song ‘The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals’, we get this line nearing the end:

“You gotta believe in something, Paul, gotta believe in stupid Paul”

It looks like ‘never’, it reads like ‘never’, and the word ‘never’ just fits the vibe.

Okay, wait— I was going to write about Nibbly and the Honey Festival, because while the Honey Festival wasn’t founded until 1945, Nibbly and the word ‘queen’ could still coincide for whatever reason, but even with that, the Lords are usually listed in the order of ‘Pokey, Blinky, Tinky, Nibbly, and Wiggly’, but that might be one of the outliers, but I just remembered the Queen in White and something about that made me excited. We’ll see. What I was going to write about Nibbly still applies, though.

6.

Help Me Don’t [go]

In The Black, Po[kotho?]

wants me to

Analysis:

Not everyone wants to tango with the devils. It might be ‘Pokey’, but it’s the same either way, and the person who wrote this was most likely not Willabella, considering she seemed pretty chill with the Lords in Black and it’s coloring is different. Still looks like it was written in blood though. When you dabble in the dark arts, don’t forget to take a pen with you.

Overall:

My question is— what counts as lore? I think this does. Anyway. Again. If anyone figures out what the fuck that word is after ‘History and ????” in part one, hit me up. I’m gonna challenge the word to a duel. What’s it gonna do?? Fight back?? Part three will be out at some point. Okay, bye.

* I assume the artist occasionally used the same art, but warped it to make it look different, so more space could be taken up, and there would be no pain of having to go through It All. I think Part 4 - The Lords in Black is the proper way to read it, though.*

Feel free to reblog and add to this post! I grant you my permission!!

Edit (12/16/24): Rather than Part Three being about the Hatchetmen, it could be that “family tree of eldritch horrors” Nick mentions.

[tens-girl]

The Legend of Venice…

Now complete on AO3!

After revealing that old friend Giacomo Casanova looks exactly like the Doctor (and of course somewhat like himself too!), Crowley persuades the Time Lord to take the gang to Venice, 18th Century, to experience the legend for themselves.

Chaos naturally ensues, the Doctor managing approximately five minutes before being mistaken for Giac and being chased around the streets and canals of the city.

Fun, frolics and flirting. Who Omens typical angst and heartache (the Doctor and Jack need to seriously sort their shit out…) Fem-Crowley (with sexy gender fuckery included…) And some great cameos.

Part 12 of Who Omens (notes for chapter one give a few pointers if you’ve not read previously!) Rated E (explicit sex, various pairings) 59,093 words. Complete.

[pengychan]

[Baldur’s Gate III] Hell to Pay, Ch. 40

Illustration by @raphaels-little-beast

Title: Hell to Pay Summary: Assassinating an archdevil is a daunting task, even for the heroes of Baldur’s Gate. Some inside help from ‘the devil they know’ would be good, if not for the detail their last meeting ended with said devil dead in his own home. Or did it? Characters: Raphael, the Dark Urge, Astarion, Haarlep, Halsin, Karlach, Wyll. Rating: E Status: In progress

All chapters will be tagged as ‘hell to pay’ on my blog. Also on Ao3.

*** Well this chapter just kept getting longer and longer. And the epilogue won't be short either, 'cause Raphael's gonna be one literal hell of a busy archduke. ***

In the time that lapsed between Mephistopheles’ death and the arrival of Asmodeus’ envoy, there was no attempt from anyone at court to take a throne that many had long coveted - and which, at least at first, was seemingly vacant.

But it was no great surprise. The companies of pit fiends under Hutijin had been decimated by Zariel and Lulu’s strenuous efforts, as they would later learn, and Hutijin himself lay dead in the throne room. The soldiers who had been waiting to ambush Raphael on the road to Nargus under Duke Bifrons’ command had not made it back on time to be of any assistance. 

By the time they reached the gates of Mephistar, it was all said and done. They found a court of fiends just now starting to cautiously emerge from the rooms and halls they had cowered in alongside their servants. 

In the surreal silence that had fallen on the entire citadel - on all of Cania, where the blizzard no longer raged and snow fell slowly, quietly - they all headed instinctively towards the grand hall atop the palace.

Not too long ago, it had been the beating heart of the palace; hymns of praise filled it at all times, rising towards the high vaulted ceiling. Now that too was silent. Mephistopheles’ High Cantor had been gone for some time and the ceiling had been damaged, with parts of it collapsed onto the floor. The snow fell there, too, before the high doors leading to the throne room, barely cracked open. 

No sound came from inside, and none dared approach. Bifrons was about to call on his best men to come forth with him when someone slipped inside the hall and did approach the doors, and then turned to face them all. 

Adonides, Steward of Cania, met Bifrons’ gaze with a grave expression on his face. A gesture, and a rolled parchment appeared in his hand. The seal on it glowed, and the stunned silence broke into a murmur when everyone present saw it clearly - the seal of the Ninth. 

“By Asmodeus’ decree, any of you carrying weapons is to lay them down now. No fighting is to occur as we await for the Lord Below’s envoy to arrive, and settle the matter.”

“What matter, Adonides?”

“... Lord Mephistopheles is no more.”

The silence was back, deafening; confusion turned to incredulity, the mere notion of their lord being gone too much for most of those present to grasp. They stared as though not comprehending what they had just heard, the upper crust of the Eighth. Bifrons obviously struggled to wrap his mind around it, too, and scowled. 

“Does the parchment really demand we lay down our weapons?”

Adonides turned. “Justiciar Bele. Would you read it, to confirm?”

Justiciar Bele looked stunned as he stepped forward, his gait uncertain. He took the parchment, broke the seal, and read in silence. He was much too pale to grow paler still, but he did draw in a shaky breath before he nodded, and looked up. 

“... The Lord Below is aware that the Lord of the Eight has fallen. He is keen to avoid chaos, and a dangerous power vacuum. Everyone present is to lay down arms while his official envoy travels to Cania. Anybody breaking the peace will be subjected to punishment of the utmost severity.”

All eyes turned to Bifrons, who for a moment did not move or speak. Then, the pit fiend lifted a hand and brought it down in a silent order. There was the sound of drawn weapons left to clatter on the ice floor, on the small mounds of snow already beginning to form - and it was then that, at last, someone appeared through the doors. 

Decades, centuries, millennia down the line, there would be as many versions of that moment as there had been fiends to witness it. One such tale, and perhaps the most widely circulated, would speak of a gigantic ascended fiend coming through the doors in a blaze of hellfire and triumph, carrying Mephistopheles’ severed head by the hair, flanked by war devils.

But no such thing happened. The one to step out, accompanied by mere mortals, was a cambion whose face they all knew, clad in a battered and bloodied armor. There was no triumph in the way he carried himself or his expression; he was holding no severed head. 

He stopped just outside the doors, saying nothing, and ran his gaze over the gathered crowd - many of whom had witnessed what should have been his end in that very hall. Any murmurs that may have resumed were hushed, dozens of eyes wide and lost , looking back at him in stunned silence and anticipation. Finally, his gaze fell on the Steward of Cania.

“My father’s body needs tending to,” Raphael spoke, his voice rough, and Adonides nodded.

“... Of course. I shall take him to the vaults, and ensure it’s attended,” the Steward replied, and went to follow, only to pause when someone spoke suddenly - Justiciar Bele. 

“We believed Lord Mephistopheles gone once before by the hands of Baron Molikroth, and it was a ruse--”

“There is no ruse,” Raphael cut him off. He turned towards the Justiciar, but he seemed to be looking through him rather than at him. “He is gone.”

“... I suppose it may be as you say, but if we could see the body, certainly--”

“My sire won’t be paraded for you to gawk at, Bele . ” Raphael’s voice remained calm, but there was something underneath it that was enough for Bele to close his mouth as though struck, and step back into the crowd. Like it would grant him any protection, should Raphael lash out - like said crowd wouldn’t part quickly should that happen, leaving him to his fate. 

But there was no lashing out: Raphael only turned to go back inside. Bifrons stepped forward before he could. “Where is Hutijin? His body was not among the fallen. I know he did not flee.”

It caused Raphael to pause, and glance back. “He’s inside. He did his duty to the end.”

Fool. The only one of us who ever had the might and authority to challenge Mephisto for the throne, and he squandered it. What for?

“... Hph. Of course he did,” Bifrons muttered, and took another step forward. “That being the case, I’d take him to the vaults, too.”

The cambion nodded, and Adonides said nothing. They went inside, and Bifrons followed. The mortals remained at the door, to guard it; the dragonborn with blood red eyes looked fearsome enough to make even fiends think twice, should they consider trying to storm in. But no one Asmodeus’ direct orders, and no one followed them inside.

Hutijin’s corpse was only a few paces from the door; loyal to the Lord of the Eighth to the end, as any who knew him would have expected. He had fallen on his back, eyes still open; his mace lay a short distance away from his right hand. Bifrons paused for a moment - long enough to take that mace, place it over the body’s chest, and fold his hands over the handle. 

Then he stood and for the first time he took in the true scale of the devastation - the half collapsed roof and columns, the shattered wall, the craters in the ground even where magic was supposed to reform the ice. Finally his gaze paused on the far end of the throne room, where indeed Mephistopheles lay, motionless. Raphael stood in silence before it, and so did Adonides.

“... Did you truly do this?” Bifrons spoke, unable to keep some quiet surprise from his voice.

Raphael’s eyes did not so much flicker towards him. He kept looking at his sire, expression unreadable. “Yes. Now go. The Steward will join you soon.”

Bifrons did not ask how, or why. Neither answer was important, now. He went back to Hutijin’s body and lifted it, mace and all. A burst of fire and he was gone with it - a long way below, deep into the eternal ice of Nargus, before the doors leading to the vaults, where Adonides’ own gelugon guards only shared a look with him before parting to let him through.

***

“Where’s Haarlep? My mother?”

“They are well. In my own quarters, for the time being, and safe. Barbas was able to track them down, but they held him off until my arrival.”

“And the chamberlain…?”

“Dead. Do you wish for his body to be taken to the vaults, too?”

“You may feed it to my father’s hounds, if you’re so inclined.”

“I believe I might be,” Adonides muttered, and looked down at Mephistopheles once again. 

There was blood, thick and black with traces of arcane magic still, dripping like molasses from the steps leading to the throne; that showed clearly enough that was there he’d died. Still, the body had been laid out on the ground before it. Snow was drifting down on the body, which wore the visage of the Lord of the Hellfire, but there was no heat left to melt that snow. His hands had been folded over the fatal, gaping wound on his chest. 

The spear of the Reigning Serpent was nowhere to be seen, of course; none could see it, if Asmodeus’ involvement was to remain a secret. There were likely other wounds hidden by Mephistopheles’ robe; one of his horns was broken, but it was the only truly noticeable damage one could see above his neck. His eyes were shut, his forehead smooth. A ghost of a smile seemed to linger at the corners of his lips.

“... As for your sire, do you truly wish to keep him in the vaults?”

“Not permanently, no. But for the time being, it seems the best place.”

“I’ll give word to the attendants to clean off the blood. And I’ll send for one of his finest robes.” He went to kneel by the body to teleport with it, but Raphael put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Wait.” Something was pushed against his palm; the tip of the horn which had been shorn off. “See if it may be reattached. A golden band should do well enough, I believe.”

“He rent you asunder while you screamed, and yet you wish to keep him whole in death.”

“I owe you no explanation.”

“... Then I shall ask no more questions,” Adonides replied, and teleported to the vaults without another word alongside the remains of the Lord of the Eighth - leaving Raphael before the throne he’d won, beneath the falling snow, alone.

But not for long.

***

“Not quite the throne you’d planned to take, is it?”

Durge’s voice was quiet, but it echoed into the devastated room all the same. They had left the others to guard the doors - more for show than anything, as none was going to defy an order by Asmodes - and slipped back inside as soon as they’d seen Adonides leave through the crack in the door they’d been watching from.

Raphael nodded without turning. His back was rigid, his hands balled into fists by his sides. When Durge stepped by his side, he barely turned his head towards them before he spoke. 

“I’d seen myself stepping over it on my way to Nessus - never sitting upon it. Even in my grandest dreams of glory, this was his. He was supposed to live, to see my triumph and to know the humiliation of paying tribute to his bastard son. And yet…” A pause, another glance at the throne, a wide gesture to the ruined room. “Thus far I’ve come, but no farther. I have killed my sire, yet I could never humiliate him. His throne is mine, and I could make him see me, but I could never make him bow. Maybe that’s why he smiled, in the end.”

“Was seeing him bow to you truly what you wanted?”

“... I think it’s best for me not to speak aloud what I wanted. This court would latch on any weakness I show to gain leverage. It is how it is, with fiends.”

“And what of friends, I wonder?” Durge asked. There was a light scoff, the faintest ghost of a smile on Raphael’s lips.

“That was atrocious. My first act as Lord of the Eighth will be to forbid you from attempting word plays at this court.”

“Not an answer, that.”

The smile faded. There was no answer, not aloud, but he turned to Durge and that was all they needed. They reached out to pull him into an embrace, armor and all, and held tight. They heard a sharp inhale and then felt him exhale, slowly, resting his head against Durge’s shoulder for a moment. 

“I’m sorry,” Durge murmured. 

“... He’d have never stopped pursuing me. There was no other choice.”

“There wasn’t.”

A nod, another long breath, and Raphael pulled away. A step back and in a burst of flames the armor was gone, replaced by a familiar doublet. The blood was gone, too, leaving only a bruise over his cheekbone barely visible on red skin. He cleared his throat, adjusting a sleeve at the wrist. “I suspect it won’t be long before Lady Baalphegor arrives.”

“So she’s to be the envoy?”

“Who else? She was always Amsodeus’ most trusted diplomat, before she was even my sire’s consort.” A sigh, and he looked at the blown-out wall. “I suppose she’ll want the meeting to take place at the grand hall, so that the entire court bears witness.”

“Yes, I guess it would make sense--”

“Um, guys? I think the envoy is here.” Karlach’s voice caused Durge to trail off, and Raphael to turn to the door, lips pressed together in a tight line. 

“Well then,” he murmured, and stepped past Durge, towards the doors leading to the hall. His strides were purposeful, his head held high. “Let us not keep Lady Baalphegor waiting.”

***

“Duke Adonides said we should stay put--”

“And what is he going to do? Punish the lover and mother of the new Lord of Cania?”

Haarlep had a point, of course, but it was still difficult to wrap her mind around the idea - Israfel on the throne and Mephistopheles gone, the being who’d smiled like a satisfied merchant when he sprung his trap, whose hand had burned both cold and hot on her belly when he’d pulled away after-- this too I claim as mine -- sealing her fate.

For the longest time, she had never dared to think or dream of the day the Lord of the Eighth may be vanquished; it simply did not seem possible. Then there had been a faint hope, but the wish to see him only took shape in her mind when anger won over the utter dread his mere thought caused. She’d envisioned her son standing in triumph over his dead body; with fear for Israfel’s safety gripping her chest, she’d hoped for that outcome with all she had.

As the ice melts upstream, the flood shall come to take its due. Will it bring you joy when it does, and the devil who tricked you is no more?

Dalah had said yes then, and she meant it. Now, however, she was not so sure. She had felt little to no joy in so long, it was hard to recall precisely what the feeling was supposed to be. There was something a lot like vindication, but there had been no impulse to cry out or even just cry, as she’d thought she might. There had only been relief beyond words, like a weight lifted from her, and a sense of numbness that had yet to leave her. 

She certainly felt numb now, as she walked with Haarlep through hallways and staircases, up towards the grand hall; distantly, she noted that every fiend they came across had the same distant stare, disbelief and incredulity but with a hint of fear for what was to come next. 

How many of you mocked him?, Dalah found herself thinking, her gaze moving from one devil to the next while she followed Haarlep up, up to the top of the palace. How many of you jeered when he was powerless, and how many of you are wondering if he’ll be any more merciful than his sire? Many, most of you. I can tell you’re scared. As you should be. 

She did not voice such thoughts, and was quick to avert her gaze before any could catch her staring. In the guise of a pit fiend, Haarlep was saying something under their breath as they led her into the rather crowded grand hall, but she did not quite catch the words. It very much felt like part of her mind was encased in ice, and she gripped their arm without thinking once she saw them - the doors leading to what had been Mephistopheles’ throne room. 

No more. He is gone. Oh, he is really gone!

She did not see Israfel nor the white dragonborn, but his other mortal companions were standing before those doors. They were battered and bruised but alive; they looked at the gathered friends with expressions that made clear there was fight in them yet, should they try to approach. It was the first tangible sign that what Adonides had told them was true. 

That, and the whispers among wide-eyed devils. “Cannot be--”

“A halfbreed, and some mortals--”

“Surely Lord Asmodeus will see them punished--”

“Who’s to rule Cania?”

“Who but the one who won the throne?”

“Usurped, you mean. By what right would he rule?”

“By right of conquest, I’d expect. Of course, if Asmodeus decrees he is to rule--”

“A halfbreed could never, the Reigning Serpent will swat him like a fly--”

Dalah swallowed, and gripped Haarlep’s arm tighter. “He is gone,” she whispered, and the incubus nodded, and covered her hand with their own.

“Why the surprise? I’m rather sure Adonides wouldn't get that wro--”

“Make way for Lady Baalphegor, envoy of the Ninth!”

Speak, quite literally, of the devil. Adonides’ voice rang out from the hallway, and a hush fell on the crowd. Those standing at the back parted hurriedly to let the Steward through; he was followed by two massive pit fiends - and behind them was Lady Baalphegor.

Dalah had seen her clad in more robes than she could recall, many of which she’d embroidered herself; the vast majority had been black with hues of red. There was no red now, or any other color. Only the deepest black, from head to toe; the half-smile never too far away from her lips was gone, too, replaced by detached expression as she walked through two wings of fiends, head held high, long red hair cascading down her shoulders. She looked so very small, for someone whose authority had so nearly matched Mephistopheles’ own. Her gaze passed over her and Haarlep, pausing only one moment before she turned away.

I do hope his demise tastes sweet for at least one of us, she’d said. Dalah was not certain she tasted the sweetness of it quite yet. She hoped to, once the numbness was gone. She deserved to, surely, after so many centuries and what she’d been put through.

Lady Baalphegor clearly found nothing sweet in it, and likely never would. No longer Mephistopheles’ consort, the envoy of the Ninth was nonetheless clad in mourning clothes; it couldn’t go unnoticed by anyone present, yet no one made a sound to comment on it. They stared, transfixed, as she walked up to the center of the hall… and then turned as one as the doors leading to the throne room were pushed wide open. 

That was the first glance most of them got at the devastation inside, and there were a few audible gasps; Dalah could pay no mind to anything but her son, stepping out through those doors. The dragonborn with him came to a stop right outside the door, but Israfel took a few steps further before he stopped and sank on one knee, lowering his head, gaze to the floor. 

“Lady Baalphegor, envoy of the Ninth,” he greeted her. “The Lord of the Eighth is gone by my hand. I submit to the Lord Below’s judgment.”

The hall was silent enough one could hear a pin drop - and everyone certainly heard the sound of Justiciar Bele clearing his throat before he stepped forward. “Lady Baalphegor,” he spoke, his voice not quite as firm as he probably would have liked. “As the Justiciar of Cania-- well, as you know, I often discussed matters of Justice with Lord Mephistoph--”

This time, Lady Baalphegor smiled. It did not reach her eyes. “I am aware, Justiciar Bele. But the Lord Below does not require your counsel,” she replied, a coldness to her gaze before she looked back at Israfel, who still knelt on the floor, head bowed as though under the wright of his own great curved horns. She looked at him as though trying to find something beyond what the eye could see. And perhaps she did, for her tight smile seemed to soften a fraction.

“Rise, Raphael. Even in a palace this grand, the floor is no place for the Lord of Cania.”

In retrospect Dalah would find it almost funny, how he stood just as every member of the court present scrambled to kneel in turn; so did Haarlep not to stand out, pulling her down with them. Even as she knelt, Dalah dared look up - and, for the briefest instant, met her son’s gaze. She saw Mephistopheles in those features, just as much as she saw herself in Israfel’s human face. 

The same red skin he’d worn on the night he’d come to ensure she held her half of the bargain, the same slight bump on the bridge of his nose, the sunken look around his eyes… but the eyes, those were nothing like his sire’s. When he wore the form that most resembled Raphael’s, Mephistopheles had what looked like dead white eyes from a distance. Up close, there was something moving within them, like a swirling white mist that just barely hid every horror one’s mind could comprehend and many it couldn’t; she could only bear the sight for a moment, then, before she’d closed her eyes while trying with all her might to think of nothing. 

But her son’s eyes were nothing like it: they were molten gold against black sclera, midday suns in the night sky. They found hers, and held for a moment; his lips curled for a brief, faint smile before he turned back to Baalphegor, bowed, and swore his fealty to Asmodeus for all present to hear. Dalah heard the words, but she was not truly listening. 

She only looked on, and smiled.

***

The casket Baalphegor’s entourage brought all the way down to the vaults was red as the very earth of Nessus, and mostly plain but for the inscription on its lid, glowing a hot red one moment and a cold blue the next with brief moments of bright whiteness in-between. 

“Obviously this is only for transport and safekeeping, until both the mausoleum and the sarcophagus are ready,” Baalphegor spoke as the doors of the vault were opened before them, and the guards stood aside. “It shall not be long.”

“A mausoleum, entirely for my sire?”

“Yes. Close to the rawest flames from the pits of Nessus. The First Flames, we call them.”

“... It does seem fitting. And very generous.”

“Lord Asmodeus knows that Baator would not have been the same without your sire. He is seeking to ensure none who live in it may forget as much.”

Mephistopheles’ body lay on a table of ice, and attendants were just now stepping back, bowing as they saw them coming in. Raphael had never seen his sire sleep; he suspected he rarely ever did, as he had no need for it, and that in such occasions it would not be all that restful. There was always too much going through his mind, all at once, at a speed even he struggled to keep up with - projects and research started and abandoned, the torment of being forever a step ahead of other archdevils and yet two steps behind Asmodeus. Now that was over and he did, at last, look peaceful.

The blood was gone, no bruises marking his skin. Adonides had not lied when he’d said he would send for his finest robe; all dark blue silk, with flames embroidered in threads of gold, silver and and burgundy up the sleeves and over the chest. There were bands of gold around his horns, one of which held the broken horn in place, and a golden medallion at his neck; they had put golden earrings at his lobes, a ruby headband on his brow and sapphires at his fingers, which were wrapped around the handle of his ranseur.

Raphael stopped a few paces away, and found he could not make himself come closer; Baalphegor, however, did not hesitate. She stepped up to the table, and gestured for the pit fiends accompanying her to come closer.

She watched them put the casket on a nearby stand, and only looked away when they went about to put the body in. Raphael did the same, and both their gazes fell on the other corpse in the room, laying on his back with the mace across his chest.

“... I should have expected Duke Hutijin to fall with him. He’d have died fighting Asmodeus himself before he denied him. The only Duke of Cania with power, troops and sway enough to challenge my--” a pause, a sigh. “To challenge Mephisto for the throne, and yet he’d rather guard him with his life.”

“One could argue it would only be fitting for him to continue guarding him in death. Surely the mausoleum will have enough space for both,” Raphael replied, and Lady Baalphegor nodded. 

“And I for one would agree. I shall speak to the Lord Below of it. I’m rather certain an entourage will return soon with another casket.”

“Hopefully I’ll be able to give them a better welcome than what I could give you now.”

A faint smile. “You cannot do worse, I suppose,” she replied, and turned back. The body was gone from sight, inside the casket, and one of the pit fiends was picking up the lid. She stepped forward. “Do not close it yet. Leave us for a few minutes.”

A few silent nods, and they obeyed. Raphael watched in silence as his sire’s former consort walked up to the casket, slowly, and looked inside. Her expression did not change, and Raphael knew he was expected to approach too. A deep breath, and he too stepped closer. 

“I have given you reason to grieve. I know that much. I do wish--” Raphael began, only to trail off when Baalphegor shook her head. A hand reached inside the coffin, to tuck back a strand of long black hair which had become entangled in one of the horns. It lingered for a moment next to Mephistopheles’ face before she retreated it, slowly, and rested it on the edge of the casket. 

“What you may have wished is meaningless, Lord of the Eighth.” She spoke without taking her gaze off the body of what had been her consort long before Raphael even drew his first breath. She looked calm; the only sign of any turmoil was the grip of her hand tightening on the edge of the casket. “This tale could only end with his death, or yours.”

It is the outcome you needed. I am not certain it is the one you wanted, Raphael thought, but did not say as much. He already knew what she would say - that her wants were irrelevant as his own. “I am aware,” was all he said in the end, and she nodded.

“I would have chosen a different death for him. So would Lord Asmodeus, I believe, but this is how it had to be. So make no apologies and rule. You had every right to end his life, but the Lord Below shall grant you none whatsoever to insult his memory. Be the archdevil I know you can be, and none shall dare mock Mephistopheles for falling under your blows.”

Raphael nodded, and bowed. “I’ll strive to make it so, Lady Baalphegor.”

She nodded back, and took a step away from Mephistopheles’ remains. A gesture from her and the lid was lifted in the air; Raphael got one last glimpse of long bejeweled fingers before the lid came down to close the casket with a staggering sense of finality - and that was that.

Outside of Nessus, that was the last anyone would ever see of Mephistopheles.

***

“All this looks valuable, is what I’m saying…”

“Astarion. No.”

“Oh, come on, love. Last time you were here, you raided the vaults.”

“And I think it should be clear by now what a spectacularly bad call that was.”

A sigh, dramatic as they come, as they looked around what had once been the quarters where Mephistopheles must have hosted his most esteemed guests. There was hardly a surface or wall that did not hold some kind of work of art or valuable artifact. 

“Ah well. Raphael agreed to let each of us pick something to take from the vaults, so there’s that at least,” Astarion muttered, leaning back against Durge’s chest. They chuckled, resting their chin on top of his head as they sat with their back against Halsin, who was taking a well-earned rest in his bear form. Some distance away, Wyll and Karlach were asleep on the same bed, limbs tangled and snoring slightly. The two of them were the only ones still awake. 

“I believe I took enough from those vaults as is,” Durge muttered, and felt Astarion’s chuckle more than they heard it. 

“What I’m hearing is that I can pick two things, then.”

“I suppose so.” Durge glanced over towards Wyll and Karlach again. “I do hope Raphael can take Wyll’s soul back for him. My greatest regret is that we could not free him his contract.”

“Oh, I’m sure he will. Mizora may be the new Steward of Avernus, but Raphael is on great terms with her archduke. And when the Lord of the Eighth who just so happens to get on well with your archduke says he wants your warlock, then I’m pretty sure the Lord of the Eighth is getting your warlock. Call it intuition. Or bloody common sense.”

“However good their relationship is, Bel remains a devil and Wyll’s soul is valuable. A powerful warlock with a celestial blessing to boot. There would be a hefty price to pay.”

“A price the Lord of Cania can afford, I’m sure. And he rather does owe us.”

“Fair enough.”

A brief silence, peaceful, before Astarion spoke again. “... He offered to let me decide what happens to Cazador’s soul, you know.”

Ah. Durge had not been aware of that. “Right. It’s here, isn’t it?”

“Being experimented on at the School of Hellfire - Mephisto was very displeased with his failure to deliver him seven thousand souls. Well, the School itself has ceased operation for now, to quite literally stop adding fuel to the fire while they work out a way to strengthen the foundations of the Cania, whatever that means. But he said I can buy it for a pittance. As a servant, as a soul coin - or just tell him to make a lemure out of him.”

“I see. And you’re pondering that?”

A snort. “Gods, no.” He turned in their arms to lean his head against their shoulder. “I’ll admit it is tempting. To even just go there and parade myself in front of him, but then I’d be thinking of that all the time, and maybe wishing to do it again, and-- I’d be thinking of him again, and I’ve spent much too long doing that. The Hells have him, quite literally, and can do what they will with him. I am free and he is not. It’s all that I need.”

Durge smiled, and nuzzled his hair. “I’m proud of you.”

“You sap. But I’m not above telling Raphael to let him know I’m out there living my best life. I’ll do that, when he’s done running around his new palace and deigns to join us for a meal.”

“I imagine this is the busiest he’s ever been. But it seems like a fair request to me.”

“It is, isn’t it? Speaking of meals and fair requests, I won’t deny I am somewhat thirsty…”

Durge grinned, and tilted back their head to expose their throat. “Be my guest,” they said, and held back a low groan when they felt Astarion’s fangs sink in their neck. A hand reached up to cup the side of their head as he drank, and they covered it with their own, smiling. 

As long as blood could flow from a wound, they were alive and it was all that mattered.

***

For all the regalia Mephistopheles would take to his grave, there was far more that had been left behind in his quarters. Raphael supposed he would be expected to wear some of it for his visit to Nessus, when the time came to be officially recognized as the Lord of the Eighth. 

The thought filled him with nearly as much dread as the idea of sleeping in the bed that had been his sire’s. He already knew what most archdevils, bar Bel and perhaps Baalzebul or Glasya, would see - a halfbreed pretending to be a proper devil by wearing his sire’s jewels. 

This is not how I’ll convince any of them I belong on the throne I tore from him. They will test me. I must prove them wrong at every turn. 

Still, the regalia was there to act as a statement and he would not dismiss that either. So he reached for one of the medallions, and put it at his neck. It did not fit him: made for the frame of someone much taller, it hung nearly at his navel. The sight made him feel somewhat ill and he took it off, placing it back on the table next to a comb of silver and ivory. Then he slipped on one of the golden bands around his right horn and it fit perfectly, as though it was made for him. It made him feel worse.

“Oh, you should go naked. You look great naked, if I do say so myself.”

Haarlep’s voice was all that kept Raphael from destroying the vanity right there and then. Through the mirror he saw them standing in the doorway, wearing his own likeness. Raphael breathed out, and let the gold bands still in his hand drop back before he turned. 

“Haarlep. Adonides told me he had you brought to a safe--”

“Rather cold, isn’t it? After all this, you wouldn't come see me. Not that I was expecting you to do that first thing, mind you, but maybe third or fourth…”

Raphael cleared his throat. “I would have, soon. But with all eyes on me as of now, I could take no such risks.”

“What risks would coming to see us pose for y--”

“Not for me, but for you. I have been Lord of Cania for only a matter of hours. I have just now seen off the envoy of the Ninth, Mephistar has hardly any of its guard left, portions of the citadels need rebuilding and I had the School of Hellfire cease operations effective immediate. If the court saw me coming to check on you first thing, they’d have known that you’re--” he paused, cleared his throat. “Should anyone think of you or my mother as a weakness of mine, you may very well become targets.”

Haarlep raised both eyebrows, and pushed away from the door to walk up to him. There was a shimmer and they left behind Raphael’s glamor for their own true form. “A weakness, mh? Is that what you call it?”

“That is not-- you know precisely what I mean.”

“Ah, what happened to all your eloquence just now?” Haarlep grinned and reached to cup his cheek, running a light thumb over a bruise still gracing his cheekbone. “I’m not all that helpless, you know. I can handle court intrigue pretty well. I held up against Barbas in a fight too, although admittedly your mother did help. Her, and several crates of potat--”

The riveting tale was quite abruptly interrupted when Raphael reached out to grab them and pulled them close, tight. Haarlep let out a surprised noise, a cheek pressed against Raphael’s shoulder and wings fluttering haphazardly in confusion for a moment before stilling as Raphael sighed, some tension finally leaving his frame. 

“... When I heard you were being taken to my father, coming in before that could happen was the only thing on my mind.”

“Ah, yes. There is that, I suppose.” Haarlep chuckled, and turned to press their face against Raphael’s neck. “Archduke,” they murmured. “And yet mine still, aren’t you?”

A long breath, a nod. “Yes,” he replied before pulling back just enough to reach into a pocket, and pull out a very familiar ring - the golden band, the light blue stones. He cleared his throat. “I did keep it safe. Of course, there are far more impressive pieces I could offer now,” he began, glancing at the discarded regalia, but Haarlep would have absolutely none of it. 

“I like this one. It suits me,” they cut him off, and held up a hand. From the way they held it, it seemed they had learned enough of mortal customs to know they should not let Raphael get away with pressing the ring against their palm… and he did not try to. 

With a laugh - the first sincere one, he felt, since he vanquished his sire - Raphael did slip the ring at their finger. A proper kiss and some mindless pleasure besides would have not been unwelcome, but Haarlep had enough sense to tell that was not the right moment to cloud Raphael’s mind with lust, wonderful as they claimed the look was on him. So they only kissed the corner of this mouth before pulling back with a grin.

“Well, I’ll go have a look at my new quarters, I suppose. And you… ” They tapped his forehead with a finger. “Go see your mother. Unless you’re too busy already, Lord of Cania . ”

“... I only have one meeting to attend before I see her,” Raphael said, and smiled, knowing full well it did not reach his eyes. “I’d say it’s been a long time coming.”

***

With the throne room in the state it was in - hopefully, Tunchet and his wizards would set about to fix it once the dispatch summoning them reached Nebulat - the first meeting of the new Lord of the Eighth with the members of the high court took place in the rather less grand setting of a meeting chamber.

Well. At least it would have been a meeting with the high court, if not for the fact Adonides had been told to arrive at a later time… and for chamberlain Barbas’ unfortunate passing. 

But Bele, Justiciar of Cania, was unaware of both things. For now. 

“Ah, my lord. It seems I have arrived early.”

Raphael glanced up from the scroll he’d been reading to see Bele in the doorway, bowing so low it was a wonder his nose did not touch the floor. He smiled, and put the scroll down. 

“Not at all, justiciar. It is the others who are late. At least you take punctuality at heart, even with a meeting at such short notice. I thank you for taking part. I realize these past few hours have been-- quite something.”

Bele looked up, and smiled. His smile was not quite as oily as Barbas’ or as sharp as Adonides’, but it could be unsettling all the same, never reaching those hollow black eyes of his. Of course he could also fake meekness, or gentleness; he had done exactly that, when Raphael had only just arrived at court… and he was doing it now. Meek. A gutless coward not entirely certain of his standing, but yet hopeful to maintain it.

Hope burns you in the end. Not always, I learned as much. But when it does, it burns deep. 

“I live to serve this layer, my lord, and its ruler,” Bele was saying, bowing his head before he took a few steps towards the table, to the closest seat. “I do hope both the steward and the chamberlain will be ready to do the same.”

Raphael smiled. “That you do, Justiciar. But then again, you probably had more time than they did to prepare for this day.”

Bele looked up, taken aback. “I did?”

“Oh, no need to be modest. I know that you saw this coming a long time ago. After all…” He lifted a hand, casually. A wall of ice rose up from the ground to cover the door, causing Justiciar Bele to turn in alarm and then back at him, eyes wide with dawning horror. Raphael’s smile widened, all teeth. “... You did call me your Iittle prince, did you not?”

Bele stood abruptly, knocking the delicately carved chair to the ground. “Archduke, I--!”

“I know that you were in the habit of discussing matters of justice with my late sire. I shall not break tradition. I am keen to discuss my own take on justice with you, too. In great detail.”

Then down came the claw and Justiciar Bele screamed for a long, long time.

Until he didn’t.

***

“You know what? I think this is art, my friend.”

“Thank you kindly. It’s satisfying enough for a first, but I’ll strive to do better next time.”

“How many times do you intend to do that, precisely?”

“I suppose it entirely depends on how many members of this court intend to deserve it. But perhaps setting an example will deter at least a few.”

“What the-- what are you doing in the meeting roo-- is that-- Raphael, what have you-- ”

“Archduke Raphael, if you please,” Astarion piped in, just as Karlach guffawed.

“My lord will do just as well, won’t it? Not that I’m calling him that.”

The remark caused Raphael to chuckle. “You did more than earn first name privileges, I suppose. Are you well, Adonides?”

The Steward of Cania did not respond right away; he seemed too busy staring at what remained of Justiciar Bele. His features were still perfectly recognizable, if frozen in an expression of pure agony and terror, head thrown back and mouth open in a scream, arms held up before him as though trying and failing to shield himself. 

And he was quite literally frozen into a statue of ice: Durge had to once again commend Raphael’s skill with the Plume. From his eye sockets and open mouth came white, dancing flames which burned so hot they could feel it from the entrance. Eternally burning hellfire, searing against the eternally frozen flesh of a fiend that could not be burned but felt the agony nonetheless, unable to scream… or make any noise ever again.

Adonides, on the other hand, sputtered. “Why would you--”

“Quite the personal matter and not one I am keen to divulge, I am afraid. But rest assured, you have not committed a grave enough crime to warrant this.” Raphael turned to Adonides. “Incidentally, it seems another spot in the high court has opened up. Do tell, is your current position satisfying, or would you rather try your hand as Cania’s Justiciar?”

Adonides’ eyebrows went up; it did not escape Durge how quickly he’d stopped paying any attention whatsoever to Justiciar Bele’s unenviable fate. “Quite frankly, my lord, I was expecting to be removed from the high court entirely.”

Raphael shrugged. His eyes were still fixed on Bele’s frozen features, as though he could not get enough of the sight, of the silent agony of it. “You’re perfectly on time to resign, of course. That is entirely up to you, but I suggest you make up your mind before I meet with Tunchet. I’ll need to know what position to offer him.”

At that, Adonides’ frown faded entirely. “A Gelugon in your high court does send a message.”

“And it’s precisely the one I intend to send.”

“I’m certain he’ll be pleased.”

“Only until I order him to work with Quagrem to find viable solutions to the spread of Hellfire beneath our feet.”

Adonides guffawed. “Work with Quagrem! They’ll be at one another’s throat before the first day is out.”

“It does sound an awful lot like our future cooperation is shaping up to be.”

A grimace. “... I do hate to admit you are correct. My lord,” he added, just a touch belatedly. “Mephistar will need--”

“A new name, certainly. But I’ll get to that.”

“... Yes, of course. But it will need a new chamberlain as well. Most pressing of all, Cania needs a new High General. May I suggest Duke Bifrons, at least ad interim?”

“He does seem the most viable choice. Do let him know. He has command of the troops, or what remains of them, at least until we have the time to sit and go over all options. He should keep an eye on the border with the Seventh. Baalzebul may have helped me to spite Mephisto, but he has been salivating over the Eighth for too long a time to be trusted.”

“Of course, my lord.” The words seemed to come a little easier to Adonides’ lips; as for the sour taste they obviously left in his mouth, Durge supposed he’d have to get used to it. Perhaps it would dull, over time. “While not as pressing, for the role of High Cant--”

“No,” Raphael cut him off, his voice suddenly sharp enough to cut. It was the voice of someone who’s just been hit on a still sore wound, and needed all his self-control not to lash out in turn. When he looked back at Adonides, his eyes were cold. “None of that.”

“There is power to words; you know it better than most. As a new Archduke, it would help--”

“I’m capable of composing my own hymns. This court shall never have a High Cantor again.”

Adonides seemed startled, but did not discuss further. Durge held back the instinct to walk up to Raphael, pull him into an embrace again. Such things, they supposed, were best left without witnesses - so that other fiends would not be drawn to a perceived weakness like sharks to blood in the water.

“... Very well. I’ll make that known.” A pause. “I have also been informed that the incubus is settling into the Consort’s chambers. Said they’re theirs now. Are you aware of that?”

“Yes. Make of that what you will.”

“I see.” As Adonides cleared his throat, Raphael turned back to what remained of Bele. 

“Do you happen to know what room Haarlep occupied, when they sold evenings in my form?”

The question caused Adonides to clear his throat. Again. A little more noisily. “Just so you’re aware, I was most certainly not among those who--”

“I am aware, Haarlep told me as much. And they also told me that unlike you, Bele was there quite often. You do know which chamber that was, don’t you?” he asked, and let out a hum when Adonides nodded. He gestured to Bele. “Take this there. Leave it in the middle of the room, if you please. And leave the doors wide open. Better yet, have them taken off their hinges. Everyone who passes by must be able to take a very good look.”

This time, Adonides’ smile did not resemble a grimace at all. “I’ll ensure that my personal guards get that done.”

“Very well. As for yourself, I do need you to take my companions down to the vaults one last time. They may each pick something for themselves, as a reward.”

“Ah. Are you cert--”

“Within reason,” Raphael added, and Durge laughed. 

“No artifact granting the power of a god shall be taken, this time. You’re not the only one who’s had enough harsh lessons to last several lifetimes.”

Raphael smiled. “Very well. I’ll leave you to it, then, and don’t you think I have forgotten I do owe you a supper. I have another important matter to tend to now, but I’ll join you this evening before you return to your own Plane.”

“We look forward to it,” Durge said, and the Lord of the Eighth smiled again, faintly, before he took his leave. Halsin was the first one to speak after he left, heaving a long sigh. 

“I do not like the thought of leaving him on his own here, but I must confess I long to go home. I don’t think I could last one more night in the Hells.”

“You shouldn’t worry about him. He is very much in his element, whether or not he’s aware of it yet,” Durge said, and grinned. “The devil we knew would have been a terrible archdevil supreme. But I think the devil we know now will be an excellent archduke.”

“Whatever excellent means in the Hells.” Karlach sighed. “Can’t believe I’ll miss the fucker.”

“Ah, not to worry. I doubt there is any place in the Material Plane where he won’t find you, should he wish to make contact,” Adonides informed her before gesturing for them to follow. 

Wyll made a face. “Thanks for making that sound so damn ominous,” he muttered, but did not seem to mind. 

None of them did.

***

It took a very long time for Dalah to make herself let go.

Before the desperate embrace in the vaults, she hadn’t held anyone - or been held by anyone - for nearly two millennia. She’d forgotten how it even felt like; she’d forgotten the warmth of it, the safety, the wholeness. Back in the vaults, only the knowledge that time was short could compel her to pull away from her son. 

But now that Mephistopheles was gone - truly gone, dead, his corpse deeper yet in the Hells, his shadow never to haunt her again - there was no reason for her to break the embrace. So she held on and cried and cried and cried, all the tears she had not spilled those long centuries, all the sorrow she’d had to silence. 

My child, she wanted to say, but she had no voice to. Mephistopheles’ own voice rang in the back of her mind, even now.

This too I claim as mine. 

No. No. You couldn’t have him. He’s here with me, we’re free of you and you are gone.

“Mother,” Israfel called out after a time. The word sounded clumsy in his mouth, as though he was speaking a foreign language. The hand on her back, too, seemed uncertain. 

Dalah hiccuped a sob and finally looked up. “He’s really gone,” she rasped, cupping his face.

Israfel nodded. He did not smile, but he did lean into the touch. “Yes,” he murmured. “He is gone. And we’re still here.”

Another sniffle, and she managed a smile for both of them. “Do I belong to you now?”

“... Your soul is bound to eternal servitude to the Lord of Cania. Regardless--”

“So, yes.”

“You’re not to serve anyone ever again. At least one part of me would have died in the vaults if not for you.” A pause, a faint smile, and he stepped back. A burst of flames and there he stood in his human form - the one she’d see when she helped cheat death, the one she could not bring herself to even talk to when they met again before the vaults. “Not your favorite part of me, I suspe--”

This time, she did not let him finish. She stepped forward and pulled him into another tight embrace, a hand running through his hair before resting on the nape of his head.

“Oh, hush. You should have never been split in the first place. I was just--” Overwhelmed. Ashamed. There you stood, with my own face, and I couldn’t bring myself to reach out. “I’m sorry. It shouldn't have taken all this for me to embrace you.” She pulled back, now not much shorter than him at all, and cupped both sides of his face. “I should have done so from the moment you breathed your first. We had but that one moment, and I squandered it.”

Israfel stared for a moment before he averted his gaze. “You have no reason to apologize. You were tricked into bearing me, and you were dying for it. I was hardly born out of lov--”

“But you were,” she blurted, causing him to blink and look at her, clearly taken by surprise. She grasped both his hands in hers and held right. “You were. I was tricked into it, that much is true. But the entire reason why you exist is that I loved someone beyond all reason. Rahirek knew it - he must have, if he raised you.”

Again, he smiled faintly. “Lord Starspire took some time to warm up to me, but he was nothing if not fair. He’d taken me well and truly under his wing by the time Duke Barbas came to collect me.”

That was easy to imagine: for all his gruff exterior, Rahirek had always been kind. “It does sound like him,” she murmured, and tried to ignore the stab of pain in her chest as she said so. Almost two millennia later, after so long trying to keep memories of him out of her mind to just survive, she found she missed him still. She cleared her throat, and squeezed Israfel’s hands. “You should tell me all about your time in the Material--”

“He grieved you to his last day. When he passed, he was buried next to you.”

It was a bittersweet feeling, that: knowing she had been loved so deeply, and that her passing had caused such pain. Dalah drew in a shaky breath. “I do hope he has peace now,” she choked, and Israfel squeezed her hands.

Had she looked up, she might have noticed him opening his mouth for a moment, as though to speak, and then hesitate. But she did not look up until he spoke again, and saw none of it.

“... He grieved you too much to tell me a lot about you,” was all he said  in the end. “He never had a chance to rectify that. I was hoping you might.”

“Heh. My life would make for a dull tale indeed.”

“Please.” 

A request. And such a subdued one, from a being who had power of life or death over her and indeed over near everyone in that layer - but who, right there and then, chose to only be her son. How could she refuse?

So Dalah sat on the small settee nearby, still holding Israfel’s hands so that he’d sit with her, and began to talk of a life she’d pushed so far at the back of her mind, she was amazed she still held any memory of it.

And he listened, hanging onto every word, for a very long time.

***

“Well, this was quick. Tunchet’s wizards are skilled indeed.”

“Yeah, you’d never think we battled it out with Mephistopheles here just, what, yesterday?”

“Just over one day as Lord of the Eighth, and I think I can already see gray in his hair…”

“You are aware that I can hear you, aren’t you?”

“Oh good, so your hearing isn’t going yet. That’s encouraging.”

Durge chuckled at the bantering, but truth be told they were barely listening. They let their gaze wander across the restored throne room - the grand window of glass-clear ice, showing the slowly descending snow outside; the restored flooring and ceiling; the two columns where the pits had been, at either side of the throne.

They were two mighty columns of Plume ice, and within each were in turn columns of hellfire, from ground to ceiling. The throne, too, had been changed - all Plume ice, impossible to melt, encasing hellfire. Ever-burning, never going out, but contained under the ruler’s utter and complete control. As far as messages went, that was a very clear one.

But the one change that truly made Durge pause was above the throne. Mephistopheles’ sigil, the ranseur running through a halo of flames, was no more. Another had taken its place, and it looked familiar. Durge had seen it already, on the box which had contained items from Raphael’s life in the Material Plane and on the locket with his mother’s portrait on it. 

A spire rising up to the skies, to pierce a star. 

“Starspire,” they said, and smiled. “Is that how you plan to rename the citadel?”

A shake of Raphael’s head. “Not quite. It’s how I intend to name the palace.”

“Ah, I see. And the citadel?”

Raphael smiled. “My sire chose my name, when I was taken to the Hells. I made it my own; I do not intend to go back on that now. But Israfel has a nice ring to it, does it not? It seemed a shame that only my mother would ever use it.”

“I’m certain she’ll be pleased.”

“I imagine she will be. But as we’re on the subject of names, if you changed your mind abo--”

“Aww!”

“Mama’s boy!”

“Mommy’s little archduke!”

“Are you quite done--”

“With you? Never.”

Raphael seemed about to protest when Haarlep’s voice rang out from the entrance. They walked up to them with a spring in their step. 

“Ah, here you are! Easy to find. All I had to do was follow the sound of mockery. Surely you didn’t think of leaving without letting me say goodbye to my favorite mortals, did you?”

Halsin laughed. “Of course not.”

“Oh no, we do like you.”

“Probably better than Raphael.”

“I actually have a gift for you,” Astarion announced, and took one of the hand crossbows off his belt. “Picked a new one from the vaults, anyway.” He’d hoped to find something that may let him walk in the sun, truth be told, but there was no such thing in the vaults; he’d shrugged it off muttering it was worth a try, but Durge knew he’d felt the string of it. “This one is called Ne'er Misser - I pilfered it from a Zhentarim. Might be of some use to a novice like you.”

Haarlep took the crossbow, looked it over, and grinned. “Oooh, is that a challenge I hear?”

Astarion scoffed, waving a hand. “Please, don’t embarrass yourself. You could maybe pose a challenge if you keep practicing for another century or two.”

“Give me a decade.”

“Hah! Deal.”

Karlach chuckled, and glanced over at Raphael. “So, when is it that you have the meeting with all the bigwigs?”

“I am not certain it is proper to refer to the archdevils of the Nine as such, but-- tomorrow. Asmodeus seems keen to settle the matter quickly from an official standpoint.”

“You sure you don’t need us to stay, or…?”

Raphael shook his head. “As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I believe I’ll manage. If not, I’m not cut out to be archduke of anything and I’m better off hiding away in the Material Plane.”

“Heh. Perhaps you could join us, and find out if you’re a better fit for the adventurer’s life,” Durge chuckled, but their voice was serious when they spoke again. “Should you need anything, though, don’t hesitate to--”

“Approach you ominously by a broken bridge in the wilderness? Of course.”

“I mean, we’d also appreciate something less ominous.”

“Like showing up at a tavern and paying for all our drinks.”

“Or just a message through a sending spell will do, really.”

A quirk of his lips. “I’ll consider it.”

“Also - remember what you promised about Hope and Korrilla’s soul, all right?” Karlach spoke quickly. “And, uh-- Wyll’s.”

“I’ll keep my word, on all accounts. The matter of Rave-- Wyll’s soul will need some negotiating, but given some time I am certain I’ll be able to come to an agreement with Bel.”

“What of Mizora?”

“Bel’s word is her command. She will be entitled to compensation once I have convinced the Lord of the First to relinquish your contract to me, but it’s nothing I cannot settle.”

Wyll nodded, breathing out as though a weight had been taken off his shoulders. “... Right. I-- well. Thank you.”

“I’ll take your thanks when I return the contract to you. Now, on the subject of returns - where on the Material Plane do you wish me to send you?”

“What, you can send us back just like that?”

“I did so before. I fail to see how that’s surprising.”

“Right.” Wyll turned to Halsin. “Well, how about Reithwin Town, then? I wouldn’t mind a few days’ walk to reach the Gate, and Halsin has been away from his nine wagons of kids much too long already.”

A smile, brighter than any other Halsin had been able to give in the past months. “I’d be more grateful than words can say.”

“It’s settled, the--”

“Wait,” Durge spoke up, searching through the bag of holding. They found what they were looking for quickly, cold as it was against their fingers, and pulled it out. “Here. I bet all archdevils will be carrying something, and so should you. It’s no Ruby Rod, but it seems a fitting pick for the Archduke of Cania, no?”

The Mourning Frost gleamed, the air around its freezing cold crystal crackling icy cold. Raphael stared at it for a moment before he chuckled. “You did owe me a new staff,” he muttered, and took it. He stared at the crystal for a moment before he nodded and tapped the staff on the floor, clearing his throat and lifting his chin. “Thank you, mortals. For this gift, and for the services you rendered to the Lord of Cania--”

“Oh, fuck off. Group hug!”

“Absolutely not--!”

None of them listened and frankly, if Raphael had truly been opposed to becoming the centerpiece of a mass of intertwined arms he’d have put a lot more effort into getting out of it. If any of the others thought anything of the fact Durge was the last one to let go, they said nothing of it. “You are absolutely insufferable,” Raphael grumbled, only for Durge to grin. 

“We’ll be waiting to hear from you. And, well. Of you, Lord of the Eighth.”

Raphael’s lips quirked. “Likewise, saviors of the Sword Coast. I look forward to hearing more tales of heroics when we next meet,” he said, and tapped Mourning Frost on the floor, once. 

Everything - the restored throne room, Haarlep, Raphael himself - disappeared in a flash of blinding light. When they opened their eyes again they were standing in the middle of a forest clearing, the sun having just dripped beyond the horizon, the distant sound of laughing children drifting to their ears carried by a warm breeze.

***

There were seven letters awaiting Raphael when he made his way into what had been his father’s chambers, and which he now would have to make his own.

The proclamation in Nessus would take place the next day, but word had already spread and archdevils from Avernus to Maladomini had sent word. The tone varied; it went from cold acknowledgement from the Second - penned not by Dispater himself but rather by his nuncio Titivilus - to the rather enthusiastic congratulations from Lord Bel. 

Mammon’s congratulations bordered on groveling, as dignified as a doormat; Lady Fierna had written both on her own behalf and on Belial’s, each word full of barely contained curiosity; one of Levistus’ avatars had penned a polite note of acknowledgement, and Baalzebul’s own letter oozed so much satisfaction he could barely stomach it. 

But what truly gave him pause was the letter from Lady Glasya. Ruler of Malbolge, daughter of Asmodeus, Princess of the Hells… and something of a goddaughter to his own sire, although Raphael was not privy to how that had come to be. 

He only knew that she would address Mephistopheles as her dearest uncle more often than not; it may have annoyed him, but he’d never done a thing to make her stop - most likely because there was nothing he could do, he supposed.

The envelope was different from all the others. Most of them were addressed to the Lord of Cania, or the Lord of the Eighth; Glasya’s was not. Little Cousin, was all the envelope read. Raphael stared at the words for a moment before he scoffed and broke the seal on the envelope. The note was short, penned in a delicate hand, and smelled distinctly like flowers. 

Congratulations will be in order tomorrow. For now, do accept my condolences.

Raphael stared at the words for a long time before he put the letter down, slowly, and turned to leave the chambers. He’d sleep there, eventually; he’d make it all his own. But not yet, he thought. 

Not just yet.

***

Haarlep was not at all surprised when Raphael came to their bed.

He’d always sought their comfort after a long day, and that had perhaps been his longest day yet. That, and they suspected it would take a long time before Raphael would spend a night in what had been his sire’s chambers. Clearly, joining Haarlep in the Consort’s chambers was the less loaded option. 

Fair enough, that; they didn’t mind at all. Nor did they mind when Raphael made the rather unusual request for them to fuck him slowly, make it soft, and draw it out. 

He’d rarely been one for gentle lovemaking, but from time to time the need to be pampered during sex as well as after it had to win out, they supposed. That worked just fine for them, really. They took their time, took their pleasure, and gave Raphael exactly what he asked: slow deep thrusts, reverent touches and languorous kisses. 

They watched him groan in bliss, throwing his head back against the pillow, groaning for them to keep going long after his orgasm.

“My archduke,” they whispered, rolling their hips, their long red hair falling around him like a curtain. The request to take him while wearing their own true form, too, had not been unwelcome. They leaned in to kiss him again, swallowing his next moan, hands roaming across his body. “My beautiful brat. Mine, mine, mine - aren’t you? You may rule the Eighth, but you’re all mine. ”

Raphael groaned deep in his throat and opened his eyes to look up at them, gaze unfocused, lips parted. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes.”

“Go on, tell me what you want.” They stilled within him, and laced their fingers with Raphael's, keeping his hands pinned above his head. They kissed his brow, the bridge of his nose, trailed their lips across his jaw. His skin was slick with sweat, eyes glazed over with desire, hair tousled. He was perfect. “Tell your Haarlep what you want.”

A long, shaky breath, and he wet his lips before he spoke. “Would you tell me your name?”

That caused Haarlep to blink, admittedly a little startled. “My name? You gave me--”

“The one you had before.”

It was a loaded question, that; an incubus’ first name was usually an even more private matter than their true form, and one thing no contract could oblige them to reveal. And there was no contract whatsoever between them now; Haarlep could deny him an answer, if so they wished… but they found they didn’t. 

He was theirs, after all… and they were his.

“It is mine, Raphael, in every sense of the word. One thing I claim as mine alone; none but me and Lady Baalphegor know it, and even she only ever spoke it once. You may not speak it either, even when we’re alone. But I will whisper it to you now. Once and never again.” A thrust, slow, making sure he felt the drag of their cock pulling out before they pushed back inside. Raphael groaned; they could feel he was once again hard against their skin. “Our little secret, hmm?”

A shiver, a moan. “Yes,” Raphael panted, chest rising and falling with each breath. It made Haarlep smile before they leaned in to nibble at Raphael’s earlobe and whisper their name in the shell of his ear, following it up with a roll of their hips, another deep kiss on that pliant, sweet mouth.

They were true to their word: they whispered it that one time, and never again. Raphael was true to his, and never spoke it. 

But now he knew it and that, too, they didn’t mind at all. 

***

[Back to Chapter 39]

[Back to Start

[aethon-recs]

This Week in Tomarrymort (28 September – 3 October 2024)

So many updates this week!! I feel like this has been one of the busiest weeks for one shots and new fics, particularly with @tomarrybigbang fics and art posting this week.

As always, please feel free to add some extra context to your fic update in the reblog, like a little bit about the chapter(s) updated, as I rely on the authors to share a bit more about their updates, if you’re so inclined! 🤍

A recap of the author notes from last week:

Sits the wind in that quarter by @mosiva (M, 47k, WIP) “Getting close to the end of Sits the wind now! A little bit of omegaverse, a lot of Regency-era romance. Harry is onto approx his fifth change of circumstance so far and Lord Riddle is inching closer to a confession!” Dream a little dream (of me) by @cenedrariva (E, 17k, WIP) “In Chapter 3, Voldemort continues to sneak into Harry's dreams and dismiss his nightmares, until on the last day of the summer holidays, Harry does something unexpected..." War Prize by @duplicitywrites @moontearpensfic (E, 10k, WIP) “Harry is a war bride in a Voldemort Wins AU, but he is also Voldemort's bodyguard. Smack (smut as crack) treated seriously, with dark themes!” I need you to live well by @onehitpleb (T, 2k, complete) “My oneshot is an alternative ending to my gen fic, where Tom grows up and falls in love with Harry. Please read the prequel before reading the oneshot sequel." Touch of Death by @moontearpensfic (E, 3k, WIP) “Touch of Death is pretty much Tom gets knocked up with eggs from an Eldritch (MoD) Harry.”

*

Tomarrymort One Shots and Completed Fic

Chapter 7 (completed) of midnight train by @girl-with-goats

Chapter 5 (completed) of Stand my ground by @ciacconne

Chapters 1 and 2 (completed) of Tangled Up by @known-concepts

One Shot | here, despite your destination by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts

One Shot | Soil by @ratzeebatz

One Shot | forgive me father by @cindle-writes

One Shot | hot and bothered, seething by yourself by @2sidesofthesamesoul

One Shot | Sharp or Dull? by @xodahafez

One Shot | on line sex & rabbit stew by @izharmilgram

One Shot | A real voyage of discovery by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts

One Shot | the treacle tart chef by @00queasy00

One Shot | Man of the Year by @known-concepts

One Shot | The last enemy to be defeated is death by @thespacebetweenworlds

*

Tomarrymort Ongoing Fics

Chapter 1 of One for sorrow, two for mirth by @easterndreamer

Chapter 1 of A Murder by Crows by @iseliljathedreamer

Chapter 36 of Part One - The Solitude of Suffering by @iseliljathedreamer

Chapters 1 through 4 of The Brief Fiery Plummets by @thefangirlibrarian

Chapter 8 of Do It Over by @thefangirlibrarian

Chapter 14 of Just Business by @holaolla1

Chapter 1 of Among Us by Blossom26

Chapter 1 of Lunacy by @crowcrowcrowthing

Chapter 3 of Lovely Bitter Water by @pagesinmylife

Chapters 1 and 2 of Mending Broken Things by @tommarvoloriddlesdiary

Chapter 4 of Forbidden Darkness by @neurowriter14

Chapter 1 of demons and angels hang with us by @duender-writes

Chapter 1 of Auror Potter by @albondiguilla007

Chapter 19 of Date Ideas for the Linguistically Inclined by Antique_Mango

Chapter 1 of such unholy heaving by @cealesti

Chapter 5 of Fetters of the Damned by @sc0rpiflow3r

Chapter 11 of Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear

Chapter 126 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis

Chapter 2 of Goodbye Evergreen by @v33r00 

Chapter 7 of God is a Wizard by @onehitpleb

Chapter 22 of Time Stumbler by Wintumn

Chapter 17 of When time and reasons fail by citrumade

Chapters 39 through 41 of Terrible, But Great by @isalisewrites

Chapter 11 of Of Soulmates and Sweet Suffering by hannah_bean

Chapter 8 of Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic

Chapter 6 of The Unintentional Consequences of Prison Reform by @badluck

Chapter 4 of i am anonymous, you are a concrete wall by Pensievable

Chapter 17 of Outrunning the Villain in You by @zenyteehee

Chapter 7 of These Fragments We've Shored by @rowena-rain

Chapter 7 of all you do is kill, love snakes, and lie by @soopsiedaisies

Chapter 2 of Older by @v33r00 

Chapter 4 of Dreams Beyond Blood by @hikarimeroperiddle

Chapter 3 of Memories of a Killer by @chemfreak89

*

[warsofasoiaf]

So in the Siege of Terra they kind of dropped the fates of the other traitor primarchs. We last saw Peturabo & Lorgar waiting in the wings for Horus' victory. The 4 associated with specific gods we saw turned into demons, Dorn killed Alpharius in the lead-up, & Big E did Horus. I read Kurze's death in ADB's Night Lord books & he does not seem to have been a demon (or even really a primarch given how easy he went down). What happened to Omegon, Lorgar & Peturabo? Did they die, go demon or other?

Lorgar attempted to challenge Horus for command of the Traitor Forces, arguing that he was too weak. Horus exiled him and he fled into the Eye of Terror. After unspecified acts of atrocity, Lorgar ascended as a Daemon Prince of Chaos Undivided.

Perturabo was disgusted at Horus turning the war over to "sorcerers and beasts" instead of a "Legion war." He ordered the Iron Warriors to leave. He would sacrifice Imperial Fist gene-seed to Chaos to ascend as a Daemon Primarch of Chaos Undivided.

Curze was a Primarch, and it appears that he was so tormented by his visions that he willingly allowed himself to be killed by M'Shen because it vindicated everything he ever believed.

Omegon's status is unknown.

Thanks for the question, Anon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[mask131]

Read-list for an "old school D&D" fantasy (plus bonus)

This is a remake of an earlier post of mine, that I decided to update (some additional books were suggested to me, others I found out about later).

This is a reading-list of various literary works that heavily inspired or were heavily used in the creation of the first editons of Dungeons and Dragons - and thus, reading them will allow you to plunge back into what the original D&D was meant to look what/what it tried to emulate.

J.R.R. Tolkien's "The Lord of the Rings" and "The Hobbit". No surprise here, Tolkien's works were the start of modern fantasy and thus the main source of old-school D&D. In fact, D&D was originally created to be just a Lord of the Rings role-playing game - or to be precise a LotR wargame. This was the original intention. Which is why, quite famously, the very first version of D&D included elements such as the hobbits, the mithril and the balrogs. And when the Tolkien Estate pointed out the consequences of what was plagiarism, D&D changed these concepts to... "halflings", "mithral" and "balors". The only Tolkien-element D&D could preserve vaguely unchanged were the orcs, because the Tolkien Estate could not prove Tolkien had invented the term "orc". But even beyond that, D&D's dwarfs and elves and ents (sorry, treants) and wights and rangers all were heavily inspired by Tolkien - the gods of the orcs even use symbols such as an "eye of fire" and a "white hand"...

Poul Anderson's "Three Hearts and Three Lions". Poul Anderson was quite influential on early 20th century fantasy, and this specific book influenced D&D in three ways. On one side, it was one of the two sources for the "Order versus Chaos" conflict of D&D (the other being Moorcock). On the other the D&D trolls were inspired by the Three Hearts and Three Lion trolls. And finally the Paladin class was inspired by Anderson's Holger Carlsen character (the same way the Ranger was Tolkien's Aragorn). [This book also seems to have had some influence over the Fey of D&D?]

Michael Moorcock's "The Elric Saga". With Anderson's work, it was the other main source of the Order vs Chaos, Lawful vs Chaotic division of the D&D game. It also served as the main inspiration behind the D&D Drows, due to the Elric Saga shaping the original image of "Dark Elves" in fantasy, through its Melnibonéan Empire. D&D also originally collected references to the Elric world - creating many variation of Elric's evil magical sword Stormbringer through a variety of cursed soul-drinking weapons.

Robert E. Howard's "Conan the Barbarian". The source of heroic-fantasy the same way Lord of the Rings influenced epic fantasy, the world of Conan was also a huge source of inspiration for D&D - the most obvious reference being the Barbarian class, shaped for those who wanted to play Conan.

Fritz Leiber's "Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser". Originally intended as a parody of the Conan-style heroic fantasy, but promptly becoming a serious and admired work that created its own sub-genre of fantasy (the "sword and sorcery" genre), they also were inspirational for the first editions of D&D. Sometimes it is indirect - the "Thief" or "Rogue" classes were inspired by Leiber's Gray Mouser character - other times it is MUCH more direct. For example, among the numerous pantheons you could choose to use in early D&D, one was the various gods of Newhon and the city of Lankhmar, the universe of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser. And the fantasy trope of "Thieves' Guild" made famous partially by D&D was originally an invention of Leiber.

Jack Vance's The Dying Earth. This emblematic series of the "science-fantasy" genre offered to D&D its magic system, which is generally known as "vancian magic". It was Jack Vance who had the idea that a wizard had to learn/store spells in their mind, with a limited number of spells they could carry in their brain, and that once cast the spell had to be re-learned or restored. Several spells and items of early D&D were also directly taken from the Dying Earth books - the "prismatic spray" or the "ioun stones".

H.P. Lovecraft's "Cthulhu Mythos". No need to explain how Lovecraft's brand of eldritch horror and alien-fantasy shaped the creatures and deities of early D&D, to the point that early on the deities and monsters of the Cthulhu Mythos were part of the pantheons you could chose to use - listed alongside the Newhon gods of Leiber, or the gods of the Conan universe.

While not fantasy works, the most famous creations of Edgard Rice Burroughs - Tarzan on one hand, and John Carter of Mars on the other, were claImed by Gygax to have been very influential to his creation of D&D.

Another author Gygax mentionned as being a huge influence for D&D was Fletcher Pratt - through his Harold Shea fantasy series, about a main character being carried away in various magical and fantastical worlds very different from each other, in which he has to adapt himself to new settings and learn new rules to avoid dangers and threats... Sounds familiar? The idea of world-travelling might also have been inspired by the science-fiction series by P.J. Farmers' World of Tiers: the rules of travel in D&D between the various planes of reality seem to have been inspired by Farmers' own rules for dimension-travel.

One of the lesser known influences of D&D is the fantasy series "Kothar" by Gardner Fox: Gygax explicitely said that the idea of the "Lich" as a D&D monster came from Fox's Kothar series.

Not a book, but movies: the Sinbad movies of the mid 20th century were influential on early D&D. Various monsters and creatures referenced pictures such as "The 7th Voyage of Sinbad" or "The Golden Voyage of Sinbad".

"The House on the Borderlands" by William Hope Hodgson was explicitely referenced by Gygax's 1979 module "The Keep on the Borderlands", and it might have heavily influenced the original depiction of the D&D orcs as pig-men...

The Shannara series by Terry Brooks has also been pointed out as an influence on D&D - while not on the very first edition, elements of the Shannara world seem to have influenced later ones...

Mind you, this is but a fragment of a much longer list known as the "Appendix N" composed by Gygax, and that lists all the books and pieces of work he took inspiration from when designing D&D. Beyond the most famous works evoked above he also listed:

Poul Anderson's "The High Crusade" and "The Broken Sword"

John Bellairs' "The Face in the Frost"

Leigh Brackett's works

Fredric Browns' works

I evoked before Burrough's Mars series, but Gygax also listed his "Venus series" and his "Pellucidar series".

Lin Carter's "World End" series

L. Sprague de Camp's "Lest Darkness Fall" and "The Fallible Fiend" and "The Carnelian Cube"

August Derleth's continuation of the Cthulhu Mythos.

Lord Dunsany's writings, of course.

Gardner Fox's "Kyrik" series

Sterling Lanier's "Hiero's Journey"

A. Merritt's "Creep, Shadow, Creep", "Moon Pool" and "Dwellers in the Mirage"

Michael Moorcock's "Hawkmoon" series (which is technically part of the wider universe of which the Elric Saga is the central piece)

Andre Norton's works

Fletcher Pratt's "Blue Star"

Fred Saberhagen's "Changeling Earth"

Margaret St. Clair "The Shadow People" and "Sign of the Labrys"

Stanley Weinbaum's works

Manley Wade Wellman's works

Jack Williamson's works

Roger Zelazny's "Amber" series, and "Jack of Shadows".

In 2007, Gygax even updated his Appendix N with a handful of new titles reflecting elements added to later editions of D&D:

Sterling Lanier's "The Unforsaken hiero"

Piers Anthony's "Split Infinity" series

And of course, Terry Pratchett's Discworld series

And since this post is all about updates, I will also include a list of works that were used as inspiration for current day/modern D&D - especially the fifth edition. Like that, you'll have the evolution of "old school D&D versus new school D&D". This list is taken from fragments here and there of interviews given by Mike Mearls, the Appendix E "Inspirational Reads" of the fifth edition, and Rodney Thompson's interviews.

Appendix E replaces several elements Gygax talked about in interviews or in his Appendix N: Leiber's work, Burroughs's Mars series, Howard's Conan, etc...

Appendix E adds among other things China Mieville's "Perdido Street Station", and Elizabeth Bear's "Range of Ghosts".

Mike Mearls said that what inspired him in his design work of modern D&D was Ursula LeGuin's "Earthsea" series, Patrick Rothfuss "The Name of the Wind", Saladin Ahmed "Throne of the Crescent Moon" and Octavia E. Butler's "The Parable of the Sower".

But Mearls also repeated several of the picks already used by Gygax. He invoked again The Elric Saga, and Roger Zelazny's Amber series, and Tolkien's Legendarium of course...

Rodney Thompson rather insisted on returning to the Anderson roots of the D&D fantasy: mostly "Three Heart and Three Lions", but also "The Broken Sword".

[c0rrupt4]

𝗣𝗿𝗲𝘆 •︎ Il Dottore x Male Reader

This is Chapter 4. Prologue. Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. You may also read the full book here on Wattpad.

(I am a few chapters behind in posting on tumblr cause I got locked out of my account so if your wanting to read more I’d highly suggest you read on Wattpad + the story looks nicer on there :3)

‘CRASH’

Lady Ruka fell over in a cold sweat. Look as pale as a ghost, seeing Lady Ruka in such a state Priests and knights soon hurried to her side as the people began to whisper

"W--We need to e-evacuate the city! Immediately get everyone out--!"

CRACK... CRACK..

As Lady Ruka began to yell about evacuating everyone the Everbloom mirror began to crack.

CRACK.. CRACK..

The Everbloom Mirror then shattered and out flew a massive swarm of Hendra, striking terror into the people as they immediately turned to flee. Knights moved to protect those they could, but the majority of the knights and Priests moved to get Lady Ruka to a safe place. Watching the chaos ensue as the Hendra began to kill the innocent elven people, Dottore couldn't help but be a bit smug as he was correct all along.

"Lord- Dottore we should go now shouldn't we."

"We should Viva, as much as I like to throw shade in this 'God's' face, we should leave before we get hurt. I don't know the full extent of their abilities."

"Right Lord Dottore." Viva said as the two began to leave with the crowd of fleeing people.

With Hendra overhead, they were swooping down and picking up elven people before dropping them from several miles within the air, which is a seemingly nicer death compared to the elven citizens who were being eaten alive by the Hendra.

Amidst their attempt to flee the city with the elven people, something was dropped down on Dottore.. A MAP..?

"Viva wait.. is this a map..?" Dottore said as he inspected the scroll further.

"I believe so Lord Dottore."

"It leads back to that mirror embedded into a tree..." Dottore paused as he turned around to face the Everbloom tree. "Let's go, Viva, watch over your head so you're not grabbed by Hendra," Dottore added before He began walking back to the Elder Thusarch Tree, leaving no chance for Viva to object.

The two trudged along back to the tree while pushing against the fleeing crowd of elven people and occasionally ducking to avoid the flying Hendra. Alas, they arrived at the three and its shattered mirror with Lady Ruka nowhere to be seen... How rich... Dottore quickly moved to look around the tree.

"Viva, don't stand there like a fish out of water, Help me Look." Dottore hissed bitterly as he continued looking.

"Look for WHAT exactly, Lord Dottore?"

" passageway, or a tunnel, or a portal of some sort. The map indicates there is a path."

"On it, Lord Dottore," Viva said as she began looking too.

As the two continued their search for some sort of entrance or way to this "path", they noticed something heading directly for them in the sky. Hendra.

"Viva! Move back to the other side of the tree, where the broken mirror is. Hopefully, these creatures will lose sight of us!" Dottore quickly ordered as the two began to move.

The two quickly huddled around the broken mirror, as much as Dottore enjoyed being correct about Lady Ruka being nothing more than a cowardly elven woman and not a God, he WISHED that she was and could protect them from these blasted Insects... wait no, according to Feno Hendra were parasites... big ones at that.. seeing as one appears to be at least 7ft in height.

Dottore was now truly worried about these creatures' abilities considering he left his claymore behind and Viva left her sword. One thing for sure Dottore knows is these creatures have some sort of shapeshifting ability. Considering as they first appeared unto him as a tiny butterfly.

Amidst the panic and the Horror of the impending doom, the Everbloom mirror began to glow a violent bright pink. As the two turned to face the broken, glowing mirror; The mirror sucked them in.

The two were tossed into the desert and dropped straight onto the dusty stone path with no civilization in sight... except for the broken-down stone tower in the distance.

"Viva get down!" Dottore yelled as he covered her.

Just moments later a Hendra flew over them missing them by a single hair.

"Lord Dottore... You-"

"Quit making a fuss out of nothing. If you die it will be by my hands." Dottore hardly stated as he brushed off the sand off of him. "And if you keep being so pathetic death will be coming much sooner."

"Yes, Lord Dottore..." Viva said as she stood up.

"Let's go Viva, and try not to die," Dottore said as he began walking to the tower with Viva not far behind

Haa... Haa... The two panted as they arrived at the tower's broken down steps. Dottore took a brief moment to compose himself before opening the tower door and quickly entering.

"Viva! Hurry up you fool unless you wish to be grabbed by these Hendra.."

"Haa... just... Ha... give me- give me a moment... to catch my breath." Viva wheezed out. Running to the tower while dodging Hendra was exhausting, plus Dottore's fast pace was impossible to keep up with at times. That is what you get for working under No.2 of the Fatui Harbingers.

Before Dottore could open his mouth to mock Viva once more the doors shut then locked itself.

"What the!?-" Dottore yelled as he quickly moved to try and force open the doors. He could barely hear Viva pounding on the other side of the wooden door.

The tower lit up... with Hendra... Hendra that were in a small butterfly form. With the only thing in this tower being the flight of stairs that goes up 4 stories high.

Dottore with gritted teeth moved to climb up these stairs.

After reaching the top of the stairs Dottore was met with a heavy stone door that was covered in chains, they seemed to be enchanted as this foreign language was embedded into the chains.

With a heavy heart, Dottore placed his hand on the stone door which caused it to crumble allowing him inside the room.

"Hello, Dottore. Do you already know who I am?" I said with a smile as I stood up and approached him.

I began to laugh as the masked man quickly got defensive.

"Ah, so you do know who I am, You're quite intelligent Doctor, someone I look forward to working with," I said with a smile as the heavy chains soon began to disintegrate and turn to dust.

"I'm guessing your... (Y/N) (L/N)... the tyrant of Lumar." Dottore said through gritted teeth.

"Now, Now Dottore, let's not be so hostile. How about we go outside and get more... acquainted..." I said as I ushered the masked man outside,

"What the HELL did you do!?"

【︎ᴜᴘ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴠ...】︎

⸙ 新たな始まりꕤ

║▌│█║▌│ █║▌│█│║▌║║▌│█║▌│ █║▌│█│║▌║║▌│█║▌│ █║▌│█│║▌║║▌│█║▌│ █

[thehopelessexception]

save me lord(e) please save me

i struggle with the concept of religion because i've never quite understood the belief on an omnipresent something watching over you and giving you a path or whatever that's supposed to mean.

i went to church probably 15 times in my life when i was younger and i was bored all the time. i took the first communion when i was 10 because my parents made me do it. (i just wanted to taste wine and receive money from my family tho) but i remember that by that time i already rejected the concept of it. maybe because i was deppressed from the very age of 8 years old and i wanted to kms since then (im over it rn fyi), so the whole god thing it wasnt much enough to make me have faith in anything because i already thought i suffered more than jesus.

i've never been much close to my family, im a single child too. not to blame them really, but my parents did the bare minimum so i had to create my own moral codes from way too young. i teached myself, and educated myself on everything i know of since i was a kid. i took the responsibility of being the emotional support of adults as a child because they didnt know how to be parents nor communicate their feelings with each other (or me, for that matter). i hided my own. and when i was on my breaking point i took care of myself at 13/14 i think? and made myself go to therapy because i knew if i didn't i wouldnt be here today —i had to convince my mom, changing the reason i needed to go and i made her lie to my dad because he "doesnt believe in that" and so on—. my parents were clueless all the time 'till i grew up and told them my story on a crisis i had in the pandemic. they are still not the best parents you can find but i moved on from being resentful and made somehow peace.

i remember i was quite interested in the whole lucifer arc and the apocalypse stuff. when my catechist was explaining the 7(i think?) days of creation or etc i was reading the very end, fascinated as a kid reading the hunger games. probably my father's fault since he loved to watch the conspiracy shows in history channel about nostradamus and so on in the living room's tv. and also maybe because i loved chaos and i never fitted in anywhere so naturally i didnt even try.

i hyperfixated on greek gods if that helps.

at 13 i met the 1975, my favourite band (if it wasnt obvious at this point). and the first songs i listened to were girls, me, and antichrist. and i know it's very likely that you think im exaggerating but antichrist is doubtless the purest most real song i heard in my life. and i think about it a lot. the whole journey the band, and matty especially, made about religion made me think a lot through the years. i agree with him tho, but i made that entire journey when i was 9, as they said men do drugs once and discover the same things girls have discovered alone in their bedrooms at 13 years old. and today religion is a thing so foreign, and distant to me; sometimes i wonder if im missing something by not being part of that feeling.

i can't wrap my head around it, i cannot process faith because i don't find it logical. however when im lost i sometimes find myself asking for signs to "the universe", so it's complicated. i also think it's better for people that feel lost to find a communion of some kind than ending up being addicts or worse, liberals. and i also think some religions are waiting for people to have misery to sign them up on their cult.

what is religion really? what is god? is there one? or two? or millions? but what about science? the big bang? evolution? capitalism? media? how can all of that make some kind of sense altogether? i said already i am skeptical over probably everything, but the truth is that science is also a common agreement of stuff and "hard" evidence, but we don't have the certainty that things work like that in the whole universe, so technically it's not an absolute truth, it's just what works. but what is the whole universe? i trust science over anything ofc that's not what im trying to say, the thing is i lose my mind every now and then when i dig that up. because you end up thinking you are so tiny and irrelevant to the whole universe, the whole thing we live into. are we even alive at this point? is this reality real? and i know it's stupid deep thought thinking you have when you are a kid but i wrote something about this years ago in my diary and im going to quote it:

(i wrote it in my native language so the translation may suck a bit)

"(...) the human being is perfect, nature is perfect. the society is a mess but synchronously is perfectly designed to still work. what's the goal of humanity? some people believe in god, not me tho. i sometimes think people are simplistic and conformist with the unknown. weak deniers of the search of the truth. the systematization almost automatic that is used on people as individuals of each culture, each society; with the vague idea of making them believe on free will, and the freedom of choice. when there's something existing over us that influences us, dominates us, and drives us like cattle. but what is this really? (...) the different "types of control" influence all of us so we achieve an end to society. nobody question said unknown end, because they believe, they have faith; on themselves and their meritocracy, the destiny god prepared for them. to the reach of a post-civilization with all the answers, from the firm and fair science that at the same time is clinging to nothing, to the not knowing blindness. the problem with humanity is believing but not fighting for the answers. the problem with humanity is trusting in "what exists and what doesnt exist" as a concept; when you can find somehow the solution on untrusting and not believing on absolute truths, because all of those are influenced by human subjectivity. civilizations are built with absolute truths, "civilization or barbarism". the barbarism never was that much stupidified. do we live in a simulated civilization? i dont know, all i know is that i know nothing."

lately i've been thinking about religion as a support group for people, but the institution makes me yikes. i've been thinking a lot about lots of things.

and i find myself in the context where everything i know of is taking another meaning now. maybe religion is what conveys the society altogether, maybe it's something else. i don't know. the world was always at war because of religion, and the preponderance of one over another. noone can convince me that religion has nothing to do with the world war we're living rn.

i consider music as a support group, i have my own friends and we like the same things (i dont like people who i dont think somehow alike). and i like my music as a representation of my personality too. i believe one is what one consumes. i grew up here, on tumblr, and i know what i write now will probably resonate with you too.

what i know most of is possibly reading patterns on people. and what i am wondering right now is if we, as a whole, and our generation specifically, walked away too much from the "love your neighbor" premise. i may not believe in religion, but i believe in collectivism as a way to live, as a gear that sets society in motion. and me, personally, i am a hater of everything and everyone. but i can deal with it, i dont think society will. we can't make the bad people disappear, and we can't kill them all (sadly). so lately i tend to believe i have the knowledge and the wisdom to be the adult and choose to make peace with the evil, to stop fighting for making people change, and go build community, the safe space, the home, with the people who are predisposed to listen. because individualism will kill us all. and we cannot save ourselves alone.

lorde said explicitly "if you're looking for a saviour well thats not me". but here we are.

happy easter to those who celebrate.