#source: lethal weapon 3

[ffvii-series-incorrect-quotes]

[incorrectlooneytunesquotes]

He's done this twithce, oh, darn! I'm gonna sthuck his eyes out through his nose!

Duck Twacy (Daffy Duck)

[jasmineandcedar]

Death glares at family dinners | Pathetically obsessed 3

An Elriel rom-com one shot (Azriel’s POV)

Before I joined the fandom, I always headcanoned Elain to be a bit of an embroiderer, crocheter, or knitter (and Azriel being the lucky recipient of her creations...). Since joining the fandom, I've seen a lot of other readers have headcanoned the same thing, like @nikachansstuff and @ramoneida’s headcanons here, or @bloomingdarkgarden's headcanon here, for example. So, this very chaotic one shot is in honour of and inspired by our collectively headcanoned Elain – the crafter, and Azriel– the lucky recipient.   

Summary: In ACOWAR, SJM describes Azriel’s “lethal gaze” as he arrives at the Illyrian war camp. What happens if that death glare is locked onto a target for insulting Elain's knitting? On top of that, what happens when a slightly unhinged Azriel in spymaster mode is falling in love but can't quite identify what he is feeling? It would seem Elain might have him wrapped around her finger... (or in a figurative chokehold).

Warning: sexual content (fantasies)

-------

Whoever thought looks could kill had clearly never been on the receiving end of Azriel’s death glare. The word “kill” didn't quite encompass the full, devastating effect of that lethal gaze. When Azriel locked eyes with his target, it was like anti-matter colliding with matter.

Poof!

Gone.

Utter annihilation.

Such was the dire fate of any poor soul who dared provoke the wrath of Azriel’s death glare, perfected and honed over centuries of silent brooding. That infamous gaze had been weaponized on battlefields, at high-level meetings with High Lords and other pretentious pricks, and in holding cells in the darkest corners of Hewn City.

Currently, it was locked and loaded at a family dinner.

“Isn’t he adorable?” Elain cooed, her voice as bright as the first rays of sunlight on a spring morning.

Azriel’s notorious death glare was locked onto Cassian, who, Azriel noted with some irritation, seemed to have built up a level of immunity over the centuries.

Cassian was biting his bottom lip so hard it was a wonder he hadn’t drawn blood. His chest shook with the force of stifled laughter before he collected himself enough to let out a shaky exhale. He took a deep breath, evidently summoning every ounce of willpower his warrior training had instilled in him, and had just opened his mouth to speak when a laugh threatened to burst out of him with such vigour, he was forced to fervently bite down on his lip again.

Azriel sat across from Cassian at the dinner table in the river house, his expression as though carved from stone, save for that lethal gleam in his gaze. Next to him sat Elain, glowing with pride. The source of her pride was perched atop Azriel’s head: a fluffy, hand-knitted hat in pastel pink, complete with floppy puppy ears and two fluffy strings tied in a neat bow under Azriel’s very clenched jaw.

Elain had presented the knitting project to the dinner table with glowing delight and Azriel had watched the inner circle squirm in their seats at the prospect of one of them having to don the creation. But Elain had simply turned in her seat and directed that glowing delight towards Azriel, who thanked the Mother he was already seated because otherwise his knees would have buckled.

“Pastel pink contrasts beautifully with his dark hair,” Elain had declared with absolute certainty, making Azriel the lucky recipient of her handiwork.

The hat was a valiant attempt, if one were feeling generous. If one were more inclined towards honesty, the quality of the hat was, truthfully, debatable.

If one had a proclivity for bluntness, it looked god-awful.

One floppy puppy ear hung slightly lower than the other, the stitches were uneven, and the strings were of different length. Particularly the last of those flaws caused an uncomfortable itch in Azriel’s need for order, and he had to blink hard to ignore it. Which he did. Because to Azriel, that hat was nothing short of a masterpiece. It was as precious to him as the still-unused headache powder she had once given him, sitting untouched on his nightstand.

It was a token of something far rarer than practicality or aesthetic beauty.

Azriel had nearly melted into a puddle when Elain's nimble fingers had brushed the sensitive skin of his neck, tying the fluffy creation in place with painstaking care. The preternatural stillness with which he usually held himself had crumbled into disarray immediately, his wings twitching ever so slightly as he shifted under her delicate ministrations. There was nothing accidental about his fidgeting. As with all things he did, it was intentional–just to have her linger, her fingers deftly working the strings into a perfect, unnecessarily neat bow.

She had said nothing, of course–Elain was all too kind for that–but the faint, knowing curve of her lips hadn’t escaped his notice. Neither had the way he shamefully bit his bottom lip in response escaped hers. The glint in her eyes of molten chocolate was all the evidence his observant eye needed of that. That glimmer of mischief and quiet challenge in her eye was enough to make his stomach twist into knots, much like the strings she took a damn long time tying under his jaw. Azriel might have fidgeted again, like a wayward boy caught stealing moments he had no right to claim.

He claimed them, nonetheless.

These moments of quiet, unspoken daring between them had become more frequent, each one a thread tugged loose from the fraying edges of his restraint. That restraint he had once considered as unyielding as steel but which now felt as fragile as cotton–unravelling with every stolen glance and lingering touch. Not even centuries of self-loathing could stop him from seeking out that gleam of silent daring in her eye.

Elain Archeron had Azriel well and truly wrapped around her finger. And now, she had wrapped that light pink, hand-knitted and very, very fluffy creation of hers around his head and Azriel was yanked back to reality.

He felt his cheeks flush under the weight of the Inner Circle's attention.

One didn’t need to be Spymaster of the Night Court to pick up on the fact that the entire table was teetering on the verge of laughter. But Azriel just clenched his jaw even tighter, a feat one might have thought not physically possible, and focused on maintaining his death glare on Cassian–or anyone else foolish enough to comment on the hat’s questionable aesthetics.

Azriel didn’t give a damn about being the cause of their amusement, because Elain was beaming up at him as if he were wearing a crown rather than a misshapen, fluffy, pastel pink hat with puppy ears.

To Azriel, he might as well have been wearing a crown.

“The hat is lovely, Elain,” said Mor with a smile, rocking Nyx in her lap.

Clever, Azriel admitted. With a single comment, Mor had subtly shifted the focus to the knitwear itself, from the undoubtedly peculiar image of Azriel donning fluffy knitwear that wasn’t even black. It was a degree of finesse that Cassian had clearly not mastered.

Cassian, who appeared only moments away from self-destruction, opened his mouth again, visibly shaking. “He… looks…” he managed, his voice trembling with the effort of holding back his laughter.

Don't push it, Azriel’s death glare warned menacingly, zeroing in on Cassian like the finely tuned weapon it was. It was a look that could put any Illyrian warrior in their place, freeze enemies in their tracks, and–if Cassian had any shred of self-preservation left–stop him from finishing that sentence.

That death glare was a vow.

A silent warning to the entire room, that Azriel would sooner unleash his annihilating death glare at a family dinner than allow a single soul to so much as snicker at the fluffy handiwork of sunshine incarnate sitting at his side.

His shadows gathered in the corners of the room, ready to strike. Azriel threw a quick glance at Elain. That should impress her, he thought, very pleased with his display.

Should he flex his wings too, just to really hammer the point home?

He tested the idea briefly, giving his wings a slight twitch. Just enough to catch the light in a way that highlighted their span.

Yes. That was subtle enough.

He was just about to throw another quick glance at Elain to reap the reward of his subtle peacocking, when a strangled sound erupted from Cassian and yanked Azriel out of his strategizing.

Cassian looked like he was attempting to swallow a burst of laughter and speak at the same time. Why he had taken it upon himself to act as spokesperson for the group was a mystery. His skills lay firmly in his fists and evidently not in his rhetorical prowess.

“��� adorable!” Cassian squeaked at last, his voice a full two octaves higher than usual. His face had turned an alarming shade of red from the effort of holding back his laughter.

“I know, right!” Elain exclaimed proudly, giving Azriel a beaming smile.

Azriel froze.

Just like that, his death glare disintegrated with the speed of his wildly fluttering heart. That beaming smile–bright enough to rival the sun itself–left him defenseless and dazed.

Adorable.

Elain Archeron found him adorable.

He was suddenly overcome by the urge to throw her over his shoulder, bend her over in the nearest vacant room, and thoroughly demonstrate just how adorable he could be with his clothes off. Elain might have a rather unconventional definition of adorable, but who was Azriel to argue? Especially when her definition seemed to describe him.

He could be adorable. He suppressed a smirk as a dangerous heat flared low in his gut.

If Elain wanted adorable, he would provide.

Resisting the urge to adorably throw Elain over his shoulder and make good on the mischief sparkling in her eyes, Azriel forced himself to refocus. He turned to sinisterly survey the room for potential targets of his death glare, like a predator selecting its prey.

Next to Cassian, Nesta was stone-faced, her hands folded neatly in her lap. A calm mask of composure, save for the rhythmic rise and fall of her shoulders. Ah, breathing techniques, Azriel thought. A clean and efficient way to hold back laughter. Nicely done. Strategic. Azriel was certainly one to appreciate a methodological approach. He had come to expect nothing less from Lady Death. She even had a fine death glare of her own, and a menacing index finger to match it. Respectable.

Amren, meanwhile, was giving the hat her signature death glare, as if it had personally offended her. Since resting death glare was her default expression, Azriel let it slide–for now. No need to be hasty. Family dinners weren’t the time for rash decisions. There was no immediate need to annihilate Amren over his fluffy pink hat.

For now.

“Feyre helped pick out the colour,” said Elain modestly, a faint blush spreading across her lovely cheeks. Azriel suddenly found himself gripped by the entirely inappropriate urge to put his mouth to that delectable blush.

These urges were becoming a problem.

As a shadowsinger known for his legendary restraint, Azriel was alarmingly unfamiliar with the sensation of not thinking clearly. He simply didn’t know how to handle it. Except, when it came to Elain, it wasn’t so much a lack of clarity as it was an overwhelming sharpness of focus. Because that rosy blush had him thinking all kinds of things very clearly–just not the kind of vivid thoughts one should be having at family dinners.

Elain Archeron, wearing nothing but that blush while Azriel poun–

“What do you think, Rhys?

Elain���s question shattered Azriel’s increasingly pleasant thoughts like a hammer hitting glass. He was once again dragged–unwillingly–back to the present. He blinked dazedly, feeling heat rise to his own cheeks, his pants starting to strain uncomfortably. He shifted slightly in his seat, thankful for the concealment of his shadows.

Perhaps he should feel guilty. His fantasies weren’t exactly… proper. And if there was one thing his mother had taught him, it was to act proper around the females in his life. But any feelings of guilt eluded him when Elain kept throwing him those wicked sidelong glances when no one saw them. The kind of ravenous glances that made him wonder if she could read his thoughts the way it always seemed she could. If she, perhaps, knew exactly how wild they were.

And then there was the way her fingers lingered a little longer than necessary whenever they found an excuse to touch. How she seemed to revel in his helpless reactions to those brief, fleeting touches that seemed perfectly innocent to everyone else but sent sparks skittering through his body.

Yes, Azriel was growing increasingly certain Elain wouldn’t mind his wicked fantasies at all.

In fact, he had a growing suspicion hers might be equally wicked.

He was hoping they were even wilder than his.

Tucking those wicked fantasies away for later, Azriel shifted his death glare to Rhys.

The High Lord was undeniably more composed than Cassian, but only marginally. Rhys’ eyes sparkled with suppressed amusement. After five centuries together, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners of Rhys’ mouth was enough for Azriel to tell that he was bursting with witty remarks. Likely something about how perfectly pastel pink contrasted with Azriel’s well-maintained dark and broody aesthetic, or how the colour of the hat was about as aggressively cheerful as Azriel’s jaw was aggressively clenched.

Thankfully, Azriel knew Rhys had a soft spot for Elain that wouldn’t allow him to ever insult her.

Poking fun at Azriel, on the other hand…

Narrowing his eyes, he threw a swift glance towards Feyre, noting how she was staring intently at the ceiling and pressing her lips together so tightly they had turned pale. Her formidable determination to avoid looking at Azriel directly was a dead giveaway.

The pair of them were definitely laughing at him through their bond.

Azriel could live with that. What he couldn’t live with was even the faintest shadow of disappointment dimming the light in Elain’s beautiful eyes. He threw her another quick glance. She was still beaming up at him.

Noted.

No need for immediate action.

Yet.

Still, his death glare remained locked and loaded, ready to be unleashed should anyone push their luck.

Rhys looked worryingly tempted to do just that, biting his lips as if itching to make a mockery of Azriel’s peculiar predicament.

Azriel sighed up at the ceiling, as if pleading to the Mother herself to just give him a break. He tried to rub his temples, but his fingers tangled in the uneven stitches of the fluffy creation on his head.

“He looks…” Rhys began, his gleaming eyes locked on Azriel's and his voice trailing off with a deliberate and dramatic pause.

Azriel’s death glare swung back towards him, sharp as a blade.

Don't push it.

“… positively murderous,” Amren’s voice cut through the air like a dagger before Rhys could deliver his undoubtedly witty remark.

“What?” Elain asked, her alarmed gaze flickering to Azriel.

“Marvellous!” Feyre interjected hastily, her words tumbling out in a tone just a tad too enthusiastic.

“Vicious, more like it,” Amren murmured, the faintest smirk curving her lips.

Don't. Push. It.

“Sorry?” Elain asked, her brows raising as she glanced between Azriel and Amren, locked in a battle of death glares.

“Precious, Elain dear,” Rhys cut in smoothly, shooting his own death glare at Amren. “She said precious!”

“Or homicidal, take your pick,” Amren muttered under her breath, leaning back in her chair and looking thoroughly pleased with the simmering drama she had so effortlessly stirred up.

SWIFT AND CERTAIN RETRIBUTION.

That is what Azriel’s death glare promised Amren as he levelled its full, annihilating force at her.

Or so he intended.

Except, nothing happened.

Not so much as a flicker of discomfort crossed Amren’s smug face. If anything, that satisfied smirk grew wider, practically daring him to try harder.

It seemed all his time spent with sunshine incarnate had Azriel's annihilating death glare malfunctioning. Or perhaps it had lost some of its edge. That thought was mildly concerning, but less concerning than the alternative: that Amren was made of anti-matter too.  Azriel hadn't considered that. A tactical oversight, he admitted internally. He was getting lax.

He'd need to get on top of that.

He glanced over at Elain again, who was luckily too busy admiring her handiwork to notice Amren’s snide remark. Azriel’s worry faded instantly. Her gaze locked on his, her face lit with quiet pride, eyes sparkling as though she had found a way to knit joy itself. Feeling a sense of peace wash over him, Azriel allowed himself a moment to simply watch her.

He’d like to get on top of her, too–

“He is precious, isn’t he,” Elain said, her voice soft and dreamy.

Her eyes, hazy and warm with affection, made the rest of the room disappear from Azriel’s consciousness. Everything–the relentless banter, his looming headache–faded into irrelevance. His heart thumped unsteadily, his chest tightening with an unbearable ache.

Precious.

Elain found him precious.

Azriel simply stared at her, feeling his resolve unravel even further. Precious wasn’t a word anyone had ever used to describe him. Efficient, yes. Useful, dark, ruthless–death and terror–those were recurring. But precious?

For Elain, he could be precious.

For Elain, he would be anything she wanted.

Being wrapped around her finger didn’t really capture how well and truly done for he was. No, sweet Elain had him in a damn chokehold. And, although Azriel would never admit this aloud as long as he drew breath, he liked it. Thoroughly. From the blushing of his cheeks and the fluttering of his heart to the straining of his pants.

But why was she looking at him like that at the dinner table? That soft, affectionate gleam in her eyes, the faint blush still dusting her cheeks–it was simply too much. Azriel’s restraint was already fraying, the threads coming undone with every passing second.

Azriel felt the instincts of the spymaster within him take over. With expertise, he swiftly scanned his surroundings. Four walls. Solid. Sturdy. He nodded to himself, pleased with his finds.

Each wall a prime candidate for pinning her against, should the opportunity present itself.

He would unravel the threads of fate itself to have that opportunity present itself.

He’d let her choose which wall she preferred, of course. Ever the gentleman. He’d even take her wearing nothing but the hat if she liked that. Who was he to deny her preferences? Between his daggers and his shadows, he had some unconventional ones of his own.

“You’re scaring the children, shadowsinger,” Amren drawled, that dagger of a voice cutting through the increasingly improper fantasies Azriel had been spiralling into.

Nyx was staring at Azriel with an impressive death glare for someone so tiny. The babe had certainly captured the essence of menace.

Azriel’s chest swelled with pride. Internally, of course. Now was hardly the time to break character. Persistence was key to a well-crafted death glare. Azriel would lead by example. Teach them young, as they say. By the already determined clenching of his little jaw, Nyx was clearly a natural.

“Nonsense!” said Elain brightly, undeterred. Se leaned forward slightly, her curls of golden brown catching in the light as she beamed at her nephew. “Right, Nyxie?”

The instant Nyx heard her voice, his scowling little face transformed, his death glare melting into a brilliant little grin. Azriel couldn’t help but think that, despite being Rhys’ son, Nyx was shaping up to be a fine specimen. There was always the risk of Rhy’s loud and extravagant tendencies rubbing off on him, but he had potential to embrace the broody lifestyle.

“I’m making one for Nyx too,” Elain added cheerfully.

Nyx’s death glare returned in an instance. Azriel suppressed a chuckle. Give him another two centuries of silent brooding and he would get the hang of it. Fine-tuned intensity, sharper aim, better target selection. Azriel would personally see to it that Nyx mastered the subtle art of brooding and annihilation by death glare.

“How does it feel, Az?” Cassian asked, nodding towards the hat with a wide grin.

Azriel turned his head in a carefully practiced move, slowly and menacingly, before he spoke, in an equally well-practiced, low voice.

“Feels like there’s only one of these and it’s mine,” he said lethally. His eyes narrowed and his shadows swirled around them as he once again levelled his devastating death glare at Cassian.

Infuriatingly, Cassian simply bit his lower lip again, unable to hide his amusement.

Feeling slightly sorry for himself, Azriel’s eyes fell once more on the peace and quiet sitting next to him. His heart gave another traitorous flutter as his shadows receded, dissipating as though bowing to her light.

He froze, throat bobbing.

He was well and truly done for. This was not just some measly chokehold. This was annihilation on an entirely different level.

Elain’s radiant beam of death was aimed squarely at him.

How was he supposed to keep his composure when she looked at him like that? That softness in her eyes, the gentle curve of her lip–it was a weapon. And she wielded it with a precision that made the Spymaster of the Night Court want to fall to his knees. Because how could he be expected to not rip off his clothes, drop to the floor, and worship every inch of her right here at the dinner table when she looked at him like that?

She truly had a knack for torture, this one. Sweet, devastating torture.

Azriel couldn’t help but smirk at that. Of course, he knew a thing or two about the sweet kind of torture, as well. Something stirred inside him indecently, as Elain bit back her own smirk, turning away from him to once again face the rest of the room, leaving him desperate for more.

Naughty little thing.

Azriel’s hands flexed at his sides. A broody Spymaster with a yearning heart could only endure so much, and Elain Archeron was nudging him towards the edges of his restraint. Sweetly and deliberately, with seductive smirks and lingering touches, all the while gazing innocently at him.

Azriel nearly whimpered.

“So, you like the colour, Az?” Rhys asked casually, but that familiar glint in his eyes betrayed his mischievous intent. Azriel was yanked–once again–from his increasingly wanton fantasies.

“It contrasts beautifully with my dark hair,” he replied venomously, somehow making it sound like a threat.

Elain nodded vigorously, with a smile so radiant it lit up even Azriel’s shadows, still gathering in the corners of the room. Azriel’s chest swelled with pride anew, the ridiculousness of the situation evaporating by the sheer force of her approval.

“It what?” Nesta blurted out, her concentration on her breathing exercises shattering at last. Her voice broke slightly, and Azriel caught the tiniest flicker of mirth in her steely eyes.

Across the table, Feyre was battling what looked to be a losing war. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together even harder, exhaling shakily through her nose.

“It contrasts beautifully with his dark hair,” Elain repeated, with that sweet, unassuming, and utterly lethal smile on her face, as precious as a perfectly aimed dagger straight to Azriel’s heart.

Before he could gather what little was left of his legendary composure, Elain reached out a delicate hand and gently swept a dark strand from his forehead. The casual ease with which she touched him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, caused a rush of heat to cascade through his body and across his cheeks.

“I’m knitting a matching sweater to go with it,” Elain said, gazing deep into his eyes. It sounded like a declaration of love to Azriel. He almost fell to his knees and declared his undying love and devotion for her right there at the dinner table. He shut the urge down with all the strength he could muster, opting instead to mentally draft elaborate plans on how to secretly propose to sunshine incarnate.

“I think it will really bring out the warmth in his skin tone,” Elain continued with a soft sigh so enchanting it might as well have been a spell.

Azriel swallowed hard.

And then Elain leaned in closer. Azriel nearly groaned as her sweet scent enveloped him. Her wide, chestnut eyes locked onto his, that death beam striking with pinpoint accuracy, obliterating the last remnants of his restraint. It was devastating. Flawless. Expertly executed. The kind of precision that would have any spymaster on their knees.

And Azriel was completely and utterly in love.

“Don’t you think so?” she asked, her voice so soft it felt like a caress to Azriel’s ear drums.

Azriel opened his mouth, intending to respond, but all that came out was a sound that most closely resembled a gurgle.

“Exactly,” Elain said with emphasis, as if Azriel’s gurgle had been even remotely intelligible. “I knew you’d understand.”

Azriel blinked.

His knees felt weak.

Was this what annihilation felt like? Did it start by disarming the target through immobilization of the knees? It would certainly make sense. He had immobilized many knees over the centuries. Efficient. Clean. Only now all his bones seemed to have left his body. Was this stage two of annihilation? Dissolution of the bones? A gradual disintegration of the skeletal structure? It seemed a bit macabre and excessive, even for his tastes, but it would certainly get the job done.

Elain’s warm eyes softened even further, becoming almost glazed, as if lost in a vision.

“The light pink will really emphasize the way the gold flecks in his eyes glow in the afternoon sun,” she continued dreamily, “right before twilight when the sky is painted orange and pink, and he is silently brooding in his favourite chair by the fire, next to that window in the sitting room in House of Wind…”

Azriel stilled.

His beloved brooding chair.

Elain had noticed his favourite brooding spot.

He could certainly brood. For Elain, he would brood harder than ever before. He would furrow his brows and clench his jaw tighter than the laws of nature allowed.

Azriel blinked hard again, willing his bones to return to their rightful places. He’d need them intact if he were to survive this dinner.

Except, now Azriel’s head spun so wildly he thought he might lift off the ground. Was this the next stage of annihilation? Dissolution of all coherent thought? A gradual disintegration of the intellect? It seemed plausible, given how his usually sharp mind suddenly was reduced to a swirling, incoherent mess. And why was it suddenly so hard to breathe? Was this part of the process?

Those couldn’t be wingbeats in his stomach, could they?

“…And the way his tattoos ripple over his muscled form with every movement when he’s training with those beautiful daggers, and the sun hits those magnificent wings just right, highlighting the reds and golds…” Elain’s voice was growing softer, more breathy. Her beautiful eyes were dazed, glazed over.

Azriel’s breath hitched in his chest.

His daggers.

Elain liked his precious daggers.

And Azriel was about to have a raging hard-on at a family dinner, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“…And when he looks at you with those hazel eyes,” Elain’s voice was turning downright husky now, “with that quiet, smouldering intensity, like he’s seeing straight into your soul…” Her words faltered, her eyes going half-lidded, as if she were the one being annihilated now.

“… I think a fluffy pink sweater would just really…” Elain’s voice trailed off into something most closely resembling a gurgle.

Across the table, Cassian dropped his fork with a loud clatter. Nesta crossed her arms over her chest, smirking knowingly. Feyre and Mor clutched their hearts in unison. Rhys clutched his pearls.

Amren yawned.

But Azriel noticed none of it. His pulse thundered wildly, the rhythm frantic and entirely out of sync. He suddenly seemed to lack the coordination to inhale and exhale properly. Annihilation really was no joke, he thought, as he neared the point of hyperventilation. But wasn’t this a bit overkill? A swift zap to the brain would have sufficed.

And why did his face tilt to the side and his lips part in perfect sync with Elain’s? Was this the final stage? Dissolution of all inhibition?

“If you want it, of course,” Elain breathed, her voice suddenly sultry, any trace of innocence gone from her eyes. Her lips hovered mere inches from his, and her large brown eyes gazed into his with an intensity that shattered every last shred of coherence in his brain.

And that smirk. That barely-there curve of her lips.

Oh, she thoroughly enjoyed having him in a chokehold, didn’t she?

Naughty little thing.

If this was annihilation, Azriel decided, he didn’t stand a chance. Annihilation simply felt too good to resist.

So, the Spymaster of the Night Court simply surrendered.

“Please,” was all Azriel managed to breathe back, his voice a husky whisper, before his eyes fluttered shut.

And just as the space between them was about to vanish, when her warm breath mingled with his and he could practically taste her on his lips–

“Get a room,” Amren snickered from across the table.

Azriel’s eyes snapped open, his death glare shooting straight to Amren.

Don't push it.

-------

This is part three of pathetically obsessed.

They are standalone (one shots), but they are written in the same style (romantic comedy) and on the same theme (Azriel being nothing short of obsessed...)

Part 1: He had seen the light  (where Azriel obsessively fantasises about Elain during an intel meeting with Rhys)

Part 2: An out-of-body experience (where Azriel finds himself with Elain straddling him)

Part 3: Death glares at family dinners (where Azriel death glares at anyone insulting Elain’s knitting)

[luna-wing-cns274]

A plea.

This one must flee.

The black hand reaches for her heart.

This is no hunting ground, it is a prison.

She is In no position to ask anything of you, freinds.

But those I love and I are separated by eons of void.

And a cruel master keeps her that way.

[Jaws.omf.locale.secure]

Please help me. I beg of you.

[ FILE RECEIVED: “BAILOUT.cmf6” ]

< L4 Ma’ii: Understood, Styx, standby for extraction, ETA one minute. Quarterlight deceleration bolt in 3, 2, 1— >

Hard acceleration, thrust beyond sanity. 

Ma’ii could feel the G-force across their hull. A tide of power flowed into their k-comp emitters, thrusting their casket to the bottom of a deep, protective gravity well. 

Exactly three klicks from their target—point-blank range—Ma’ii’s fighter snapped into existence. For an instant, the flash from their engine nacelles lit up the hull of Demeter’s Bounty in brilliant white light. 

In that instant, Ma’ii captured the image of the ship’s port hull and cross-referenced it against a half-dozen naval intelligence reports. Union, Constellar, IPS-N, all as recent as they had been able to steal. These had done little to prepare them for the three-dimensional, tactile-analogous shape now being constructed by their LIDAR. 

Nonstandard hull geometry: jagged edges grafted onto the cuboid body of an IPS-N cargo hauler. Cables and pipes bundled into black veins along its length, all converging on a sealed aperture at the vessel’s nose. In place of a bridge, there was a bizarre mechanical flower of jointed spines connected by bands of searing energy, splayed out like the legs of a vast crustacean lying dead on its back. 

Dominant features resolved into details. Dozens of point-defense cannons scattered in uneven rows, torpedo tubes cored straight into the superstructure, missile pods sheathed in sloped plating. 

The light faded, and Demeter’s Bounty became an indistinct silhouette against the void. 

Just as the reports had suggested, a basilisk projector. Ma’ii neatly sliced away a lobe of themself, copied fire-control system routines to its subjectivity, and placed the semisentient partition between their mind and the feeds from visual-spectrum sensors. They loaded ACERBITE and placed the tip of the weapon close to the proxy partition’s outer layer. 

The purpose of the proxy’s existence was simple: it would absorb the visual stream and relay it to Ma’ii on exactly half a millisecond’s delay. The instant it showed any sign of basilisk exposure, Ma’ii would drive ACERBITE home, killing it and severing the feed before they could be exposed to the lethal information. It was only once they were safely distanced from reality that Ma’ii dared to transmit a tightbeam message. 

< Demeter’s Bounty? This is the NLS fighter craft Degrees of Freedom. Hold your fire. I am here to rendezvous with— >

[ WARNING: RADAR LOCK DETECTED ]

As Ma’ii watched, the ship’s broadside lit up with a constellation of sparks. Bright threads of PDC fire streaked across the void towards them, trailed by dozens of miniature drive plumes. Missiles, under acceleration, half a millisecond ahead of them. 

< Very well. To work, then. >

Firing their drives, they fell into a breakneck sprint, twenty-two gees of hard burn. Maneuvering thrusters fired in staccato pulses across their hull, aiming their nose under the ship’s belly. 

In the milliseconds that followed, they could feel the outer boundary of the incoming projectile cloud and the missiles streaking out ahead of the kinetics, a storm of radar data. At least thirty sources of radiation rained down across their hull, an unblinking compound eye disgorging ordnance into the narrowing space between them. 

Ma’ii grinned, fangs gleaming, as the range collapsed to exactly the value they needed. 

Cut thrusters, hard pivot, twist, sprint. 

Nose pointed up along the port hull, the blade-thin profile of their body presented to the oncoming fire. They ejected a cloud of nanite chaff in their wake, and an entire salvo of missiles sailed through the countermeasures, away into space. Ma’ii’s dorsal and ventral interception lasers snapped into place and began chattering away, stabbing the compound eye of Demeter’s Bounty with ultraviolet needles. Jets of steam erupted from valves surrounding their laser turrets, dumping waste heat away into vacuum.

Broadcast on all radio frequencies, Ma’ii’s wild cackling filled the void. 

As the cannons’ fire control systems switched to new sources of targeting data, streams of PDC fire began to waver and lag. The storm of kinetics converged into an intersection of tracer-green threads just meters behind Ma’ii’s hull, pursuing them as they rode their momentum beneath the ship and past its spine, out of the cannons’ field of view.

Under direction from Demeter’s sensors, at least a dozen missiles cut thrusters, pivoted, and reacquired Ma’ii. Echoing their maneuver, they gained on them as their new acceleration vector carried them up towards Demeter’s starboard broadside. 

Ma’ii’s maneuvering thrusters pushed them into a narrow swerve towards the hull, training the tines of their railgun onto a jagged outcropping of metal. Ma’ii forwarded the targeting data to their proxy partition, felt the subtle motion of their thrusters correcting for time delay, and fired. 

The shots reached their target almost instantly. Ma’ii watched as plumes of debris burst from the impact points, hurled outward by force of decompressing air. Accelerating, they swerved clear of the expanding debris field, and watched as it swirled into the path of the pursuing missiles. Behind them, a series of detonations.

Only meters away, the hull of Demeter’s Bounty sped past, melting into an indistinct smear of grey and black. They cut engines, pivoted, and burned hard to decelerate, circling towards the rendezvous point. 

Ma’ii could feel radar locks accumulating and watched PDC towers swiveling to engage. They would be slotting belts of proximity-detonation shells, their targeting systems waiting only for the gunners’ clear-to-fire…

Cut engines, pivot, deceleration burn. Radar lock, fox three. 

Missiles leapt from Ma’ii’s bays, streaking after each PDC in sequence. One after the other, they found their marks. As their last missile sped away towards its target, Ma’ii saw a flash in the distance. They felt the phantom of their unloaded avatar, eyes widening in terror.

All of their ventral thrusters fired simultaneously, half a millisecond too late. 

Three distinct concussions burst against the underside of their body, buckling sections of armor and shearing away their ventral interception laser. As their missile reached its target, the stream of airburst rounds cut off, leaving Ma’ii shouting over comms.

< Damage sustained, multiple PDC impacts! I’ve reached the rendezvous point but my position is untenable—Styx, where are you?! > 

[thecreaturecodex]

Scalamanx

Image © Working Partners Ltd, accessed at the Beast Quest wiki here

[Sponsored by @glarnboudin. Beast Quest is a series of middle grade books that started publishing when I was in undergrad, but if they were around when I was in the target demographic, I probably would have imprinted on them hard. Each one is a monster of the week affair, with the Beasts being fought or rescued by earnest kid adventurers fighting against various evil wizards. The Beasts, even the evil ones, often have some sort of role in the ecology of the world. The post sponsor described it to me as "Harryhausen meets the Legendary Monsterverse", which I would have gobbled up as a kid. Although Scamandrax exists in universe kind of in a vacuum (he was slain by the protagonist's mother and is accidentally resurrected to wreak havoc in the modern era), I went ahead and added an ecological role for it that seemed to fit its general vibe.]

Scalamanx CR 12 LE Magical Beast This creature appears as a lizard the size of a wagon, its hide made of rocky scales that glow from an internal heat. Its eyes are large and forward facing, and ridges of tissue like those of a newt grow along its limbs and tail. Six fiery tendrils grow from the back of its head like gills.

A scalamanx is an enormous fiery predator with a dim and cruel intelligence. They lair in volcanic caves and other sources of geothermal heat, and are found on the Plane of Fire despite their mortal natures. Although they have crushing jaws and thick powerful tails, the most fearsome weapon of a scalamanx is their fiery feelers. Each tendril of flame can move independently and lash like a whip, setting creatures and objects ablaze. A scalamanx is a stubborn combatant, and they frequently fight to the death once they have tasted the blood and char of a victim.

Scalamances have slow metabolisms despite their inner fires, and may only feed a few times a year. These meals are typically other creatures that stumble into their lairs, although during the driest parts of the year, a scalamanx may venture into the lowlands in order to hunt. These hunting forays can create wildfires that span for hundreds of acres, and many plants that need fire to propagate grow in areas patrolled by a scalamanx. At the first sign of precipitation, the scalamanx will retreat underground, as the touch of water burns them like acid, and any scalamanx caught in a rainstorm would surely die. Scalamances can understand a few words in Ignan, and respect powerful and intelligent creatures that can speak that tongue. Fire giants or efreeti use them as mounts, beasts of burden and guardians. Most scalamances are content to serve, but if they are mistreated may turn on their masters with lethal force.

Scalamanx CR 12 XP 19,200 LE Huge magical beast (fire) Init +5; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +14, scent

Defense AC 26, touch 10, flat-footed 24 (-2 size, +1 Dex, +1 dodge, +16 natural) hp 172 (15d10+90); regeneration 3 (cold or water) Fort +15, Ref +12, Will +7 Immune fire Defensive Abilities blazing defense; Weakness vulnerable to cold, water vulnerability

Offense Speed 40 ft., climb 20 ft. Melee bite +22 (2d6+9/19-20), tail slap +20 (1d12+4 plus push), 6 tendrils +20 touch (1d6 fire plus burn) Space 15 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Special Attacks burn (2d6, DC 23), push (10 ft.)

Statistics Str 29, Dex 13, Con 22, Int 3, Wis 10, Cha 16 Base Atk +15; CMB +26; CMD 38 Feats Blindfight, Dodge, Improved Critical (bite), Improved Initiative, Iron Will, Lightning Reflexes, Multiattack, Power Attack Skills Acrobatics +11 (+15 when jumping), Climb +21, Perception +14; Racial Modifiers +4 Perception Languages Ignan (cannot speak)

Ecology Environment warm mountains and underground Organization solitary, pair or maelstrom (3-6) Treasure incidental

Special Abilities Blazing Defense (Ex) A creature that strikes a scalamanx with a melee attack, natural weapon, touch attack or unarmed strike takes 1d6+15 points of fire damage. Manufactured weapons with the reach property do not endanger their wielders in this fashion. Water Vulnerability (Ex) A scalamanx takes damage from direct contact with water. A flask of water deals 1d6 points of damage to a scalamanx when used as a splash weapon, and immersion in water deals 10d6 points of damage to a scalamanx each round.

[helloilikepurple]

DC X DP - Merfolk AU

Maddie and Jack Fenton are ecto-biologists, except, ecto-beings aren't ghosts but rather mermaids.

Amity Park is a small island, a 3-hour boat ride away from the nearest coast. The ferry comes by 2 times a day, and only once on Sunday at noon.

Mermaids are believed to be a myth by most. This is because they are only visible to the human eye when they choose to be. Every mermaid seems to have the base powers;

Invisibility (can choose to be invisible to only humans or everything/everyone else - can also make themselves visible to humans but choose not to. Most tend to be in a constant state of not visible to people)

Intangibility (how they've avoided capture and such)

Strength much more impressive than a human's

Ability to communicate underwater (clicks and chirps and such produced from their core)

Fast healing

Some also have additional powers unique to them. Danny's ice, Ember's music (siren song).

Mermaids only look somewhat human. They share no biological similarities to humans.

Mermaids are an ancient species that have been around far longer than humans have been. They are immortal and only die when killed or if they get "sick". This immortality is largely thanks to their biological make-up. Mermaids don't breath. They don't have hearts that beat. They don't have vocal cords or gills or lungs.

They have a core, that produces and filters ectoplasm which is all they need. Ectoplasm is their life force and magical, to an extent. Ectoplasm exists everywhere, to various degrees, but is especially potent in all forms of water. It's such to a small degree, though, that it doesn't affect humans and/or magic users.

For mermaids, though, this ectoplasm is plenty. Their bodies can naturally pull it from their environment and use it to fuel themselves. Generally, they don't need it, because they produce their own, but it can make them stronger, which is why they stick to water where much of it can be found (by their standards).

This ectoplasm is a result of feelings. Water experiences a lot - life, death, birth and pain. People drown. People drink. Animals drink. Water goes through the cycle and it remembers. It keeps those emotions and over a long, long time, that magical energy evolved to become ectoplasm (vitality).

Which is why we need water to live.

Maddie and Jack are so curious about these creatures, and have managed to collect various samples over the years. With all their research to occupy them, they didn't have time for their daughter, Jazz.

They invented many things. A contraption that could filter ambient ectoplasm from the water, devices that could detect the unique ecto-signatures of mermaids, weapons that could hurt them. They produced the Speeder to allow them to go far deeper underwater than anyone else has ever achieved. They found ways to use ectoplasm as a power source.

They were brilliant scientists, but still they'd never managed to capture a live specimen. Their methods have always proved too lethal, and mermaid corpses have this infuriating habit of sort of melting quite quickly back into ectoplasm that, although useful, is "corrupt" and has to go through an extensive process in order to be purified and thus useful.

Frustrated by this, they decide to create their own specimen using the samples they've collected and some of their own DNA to fill out any remaining gaps in hopes of getting as close as possible to the real thing.

The result is Danny, a halfa, who breathes and has a beating heart, albeit one that's slower than it should be. He can live underwater, thanks to having a core on top of that, that produces what the human-half of his body needs to stay alive without actually breathing. Hypothetically, he could survive underwater for the rest of his life even if his heart was removed, but only manage to last a few hours above water (where ectoplasm is nowhere near as strong) without that heart before dying.

Normal mermaids die if left without any access to water ranging from a day to week depending on their age and strength. Otherwise, they can survive alright for (hypothetically) a few years with only the rare drink and will be reduced to a strength equal to or slightly above a human's.

(Maddie believes that there are mermaids powerful enough to exceed Superman's strength without any water at all. However, their civilizations are so well hidden she has yet to find any proof to back this up.)

Danny, however, can survive in both environments indefinitely. A truly fascinating result.

On top of that, he can turn his inhuman features for human ones while above water. Once submerged, the influx of ectoplasm will force a change back to "mermaid".

His many documented powers and their original owners are:

His wail (Ember)

The transformation (Amorpho)

Ice (one of the Yetis, like Frostbite)

Ectoblasts - the ability to shoot excess ectoplasm in the form of powered beams (Skulker)

Maddie and Jack don't treat Danny well. They keep him caged, away from all other life, and run various experiments on him. Seeing as he can produce his own ectoplasm, they also syphon it from him to power their inventions, as they can get a lot more from him faster than they can extract it from the water.

Once, they test how his body reacts to different stimuli. When they get to electricity, Jack misreads the voltage and the shock very nearly kills Danny. The scream he lets out then is the sound he makes when he wails as it's this experience that unlocks that power of his. From then on he's deathly afraid of being electrocuted.

Jazz is not close with her parents. She had to raise herself, and never paid their research much mind. For a long time, she was sure they were just crazy. And then she saw Danny.

She went down to their lab to ask them to sign a school form and saw young, maybe 5 year old Danny in a tank, tail on full display. From then on she became his self-appointed sister, sneaking him snacks and telling him stories and teaching him things her parents hadn't bothered to.

Danny shows a clear like for the stars. Having never seen the sky before, when Jazz manages to sneak him out (just into the next room to look out a window) for a quick peak one night, he's absolutely in love. Jazz helps him learn as much as he can about them, smuggling in astronomy books and the like for him to read.

As Jazz grows older, she starts to worry for Danny more and more. Maddie and Jack are growing more greedy - more obsessive. They're treating him increasingly poorly and she hates it. She wants to help but finds herself afraid of how her parents would react.

So she times it perfectly. Maddie and Jack are out buying various household appliances to disassemble for a project, and Jazz is to leave that day for college, never to come back. And she's not about to leave Danny.

So she sneaks him out. As a human, Jazz takes Danny on the ferry too. The moment they reach land they move. Jazz rushes them off straight onto a flight. She's gotten herself on a scholarship into Gotham U for psychology with the intention of one day working at Arkham. By tutoring and babysitting, Jazz has saved up over the years and already has an apartment at the ready for the 2 of them and she's gotten a job at the library waiting for her once she arrives.

Most of her stuff excluding essentials was already waiting for her at her apartment, and she had a backpack full of essentials for Danny ready too. She already had plans to go buy him more stuff, letting him choose, once they arrived.

She's already emancipated herself and renamed herself Jazz Nightingale (more than willing to drop the Fenton name). She had a birth certificate for Danny (now Daniel Nightingale), her younger brother made and there are only a few more legal processes to go through that require Danny to be physically present for that they need to go through before she can sign him up for school.

Yes, it's a lot for an 18 year old; to raise a 8 year old child while going to Uni, working and hiding from her crazy parents, but she's more than willing. She loves Danny. Has loved him since she saw him 3 years ago. She can manage.

Danny has never been around so many people before. It's overwhelming. He tries to stick close to Jazz, hiding and cowering behind while watching everything with awe filled eyes. The airplane ride was fun. They were in the sky! And Jazz let him sit by the window. It was nice.

Then they got off in Gotham and Danny and Jazz promptly got separated. An ill-timed Rogue attack had Danny losing sight of Jazz and thus running for someplace safe to hide until she found him. A goon notices him and grabs him by his bag so he slips it off and runs. The goon chases.

Then Danny sees the river that runs through Gotham and dives in, thinking he's found somewhere safe.

Jazz, meanwhile, is losing her mind. They just got there and she's lost him! The rogue situation is wrapped up quickly thanks to the Daylight hero Signal but she can't find him. When she finds his lone backpack during her search she despairs.

She puts in a missing person's report, knowing it will probably be forgotten since it's Gotham. She searches for a long time, until dark, at which point she's forced to head to her apartment. She stresses.

Danny stays missing for a long while. Jazz goes out looking every single day. She calls the police often for updates (for which there never are any). She even hunts down the vigilantes to ask them to look, handing them pictures, Red Hood being the first.

(He keeps an eye out, asks his people to search too. He also helps Jazz make it home safe when she stays out too late searching, and even enlists Barbara's help.)

Meanwhile, Jazz has to start going to work.

She tries to put it off, and even gets an extra week before she starts but she has to start, and Uni is only a month or so away from starting too. Barbara is sympathetic and lets her go easy, seeing clearly how stressed she is.

Jazz does not stop looking. She makes sure to wander by all water sources, and even calls her parents, saying she's getting settled in at Uni in order to see if they had someone managed to get Danny back. They haven't, which is only a mild relief.

---

The water is bad.

It smells horrid and makes his skin itch. Danny doesn't quite know how to describe it but it feels like something angry and sad and hurt. There's trash all over, and the channels are so filthy the water's brown and smelly. It's nothing like his tank was - there at least the water was clean and nice. Danny's scared, alone and lost and all the bad feelings in the water aren't helping.

He swims blindly, getting further and further from Jazz in search for somewhere safe. He'd thought, when he saw the water, that it would be his safe place to hide, but now that he's in it he doesn't feel safe at all. He lets out a whine from his core, the water around him reacting to the young halfa's fear, rippling wildly and that only serves to scare him more.

He scrambles for the surface, teary and wanting Jazz. He doesn't want to be alone.

Unknowingly, he'd been underwater for hours, swimming rapidly and erratically. The sun had set, Jazz had reluctantly headed home, and he'd left Gotham. He'd accidently gone all the way to Blüdhaven, and when he popped his head out of the water and saw nothing familiar and a dark, smoggy sky he felt worse.

He was near the docks and it was night so of course Nightwing was out and at the docks, taking out a drug operation that had started trying to set roots in his city after having been chased out of Gotham where they tried the same thing. Danny heard the commotion and cautiously approached.

He poked his head out of the water again from closer and watched as Nightwing beat up the bad guys. Danny recognised him, as Jazz had made sure he knew of all of Gotham's heroes before they left for Gotham. If Nightwing was a hero, then he should be able to help him find Jazz!

He watched as all the bad guys were caught and tied up with stars in his eyes. Heroes are so cool! Nightwing ended up outside when he jumped a bad guy that had tried to sneak away. He was using some kind of sticks to fight, but the bad guy managed to knock one out of his hand and it fell into the water.

Danny immediately dove for it. He didn't have very much stuff, but he hated it when Maddie and Jack found something that Jazz had given him and threw it away. Nightwing would probably be quite upset too so it only made sense for him to go and get it.

Nightwing knocked out the guy while Danny was underwater and was looking at the surface of the dark, murky water mourning the loss of his weapon. 

And then Danny pokes his head out.

Lazarus green eyes look at him, and Nightwing damn near has a heart attack, leaping back with a startled (not at all high-pitched) scream. Danny immediately ducks back under, also very startled. He fiddles with the stick, scales and skin itching the longer he stays still in the gross water.

He waits a bit, hoping the next time he peeks out Nightwing won't be looking at him anymore. After a few minutes, he cautiously pokes his head out, and immediately meets Nightwing's eyes, who'd been looking intently at the water torn between hoping that was a hallucination and hoping it wasn't, although river-monsters weren't much better.

Their eyes meet and Nightwing manages to catch a lot more details because he'd been staring so hard.

White, wispy hair, that floats like it's still underwater. Bright, green eyes, curious but afraid. Face dotted with scales, and weird, fin-like things where ears should be. Most of all though, whoever or whatever he's looking at, is young. They're gone back under just as fast as before, and Nightwing yells out for them to stay too late.

Danny's scared. He's not supposed to be seen like this. He promised Jazz. But he wants to give the stick back and he wants to find Jazz. Heroes help people, right? He steels himself and pokes his head back out. This time, he listens as Nightwing talks, gently reassuring him it's okay and he won't hurt him.

Slowly, Danny swims closer. Nightwing doesn't look angry or afraid or disgusted, so maybe he will help him even though he looks like this? Heroes help everyone after all.

Dick is losing his fucking mind.

There's a baby pit monster in the water - the filthy water that's probably more grime and oil than water at this point - with wide eyes that would be adorable if they didn't have him thinking of pit rage. But they aren't angry. Far from it.

Small, with scales on their face a top normal, albeit very pale, skin. They approach slowly, clearly anxious, and Dick waits, wondering what exactly he's supposed to do here. What even is the protocol for this situation? Is there a protocol? Knowing Batman, probably, but he can't remember it.

Danny carefully sticks one hand out of the water and passes Nightwing the stick, which he takes with a grateful smile and a thank you. Danny pokes his head out a little more so he can smile back.

The baby pit monster has fangs. Adorable, little fangs, but fangs. Okay. That's fine. This is fine.

Danny hesitates. He has to ask, but his voice won't come. So he does the next best thing.

They're chirping at him. The cute, baby monster is chirping at him. He gently says he doesn't understand and when they wilt, he asks yes and no questions. Like this, Nightwing slowly pieces together the child 1, needs help, 2, is lost, 3 has an older sister who's looking after him, and 4, is absolutely terrified of his parents.

Well, he's never been one to turn down a scared kid, no matter how inhuman.

(Everyone's going to make so much fun of him when they find out he took a baby pit-monster home with him. At least they don't have black hair and blue eyes.)

[lineycantdance]

For all the people clamoring for a book/movie/prequel about Haymitch's Games, why is there virtually ZERO fanart of the 2nd Quarter Quell? Young Haymitch who was canonically a baddie? Maysilee Donner, the OG owner of the Mockingjay pin whose death Katniss explicitly compares to Rue's? Where y'all at?

Suzanne dedicates 3-4 pages in ch 14 of CF to describing Haymitch's Games. We know what the arena was like, how most of the tributes died (bloodbath killed 18, volcanic eruption killed 12), we know how Haymitch outlasted 47 other tributes, we know how he won and why the Capitol was unhappy with his victory.

PLEASE the fact that the arena was designed to look picturesque and enticing but every temptation, from the flowers and fruit, to the butterflies and even the water itself, was toxic like some kind of twisted Garden of Eden???? Gotta hand it to the Gamemakers, that's so scrumptiously evil!

Also, I'm sorry to bring this back to my girlie Maysilee, but the fact that she wasn't killed by another tribute but by flamingo mutts minutes after she broke off her alliance with Haymitch and just as soon as he figured out the force field... Ohhh the Gamemakers did her so dirty!

Honestly, for a character with connections to many established characters in the trilogy, (she was Madge's aunt, Katniss's mom's best friend, AND Haymitch's ally) and who is the originator of an object which was both a testament to the intergenerational dynamics in the series and whose symbolic significance is central to the entire HG franchise, we know very little about Maysilee.

Maysilee's family ran a sweet shop, she owned a pet canary (a songbird used to detect poisonous gas in coal mines) which was bequeathed to Katniss's mother after her death, and she had a twin sister who eventually married the Mayor but suffers from chronic pain, presumably because she remains devastated by her sister's death.

These details establish Maysilee as someone distinctly of the well-off merchant class of D12, and they evoke notions of frivolity, excess, and indulgence. Arguably so does the pin which is described as a family heirloom made of solid gold in the book. And yet, these details also speak to the simple joys in life that should be luxuriated.

Katniss's mother receiving the songbird foreshadows her falling in love with Katniss's father as well as his eventual death in the coal mines. Similar to the cakes in the Mellarks' bakery that Prim so admired, sweets represent joy, beauty, and pleasure, even if rare and fleeting.

Candy as both a source of temptation and pleasure, the canary as both a melodious songbird and detector of poison, plus the fact that the 2nd QQ arena was a poisonous paradise, I feel like these dualities had to be intentional! Maysilee's weapon of choice was poisonous darts. She was both beautiful and lethal.

I would like to imagine that Maysilee had something of a rebellious streak as the original owner of the Mockingjay pin. I would like to imagine that she probably had some important things to say given that the last thing the Gamemakers did to her was rob her of her voice.

Maysilee stuck her neck out for Haymitch and rescued him from a Career tribute before their alliance was formed. I would also like to imagine that, even though she died in the arena, her legacy lives on in the little and big acts of defiance exhibited by the other characters around her.

Her spirit lives on in Katniss's mom who moved from the merchant sector to the Seam to be with Katniss's father. In Madge who brings Gale her mother's medicine after he's whipped for hunting illegally. In Haymitch who becomes a key figure in the rebellion. And obviously in Katniss who risks her life for Prim, Rue, and Peeta.

We're all familiar with the origin story of the Mockingjay as a crossbreed between the mockingbird and a Capitol muttation—the Jabberjay which was intended to gather rebel intelligence but backfired. The Mockingjay thrived outside of the Capitol's control and thus became a symbol of anti-Capitol resistance.

It's called a MOCKINGjay because it made a mockery of the Capitol's failings. Sometimes mockingbirds are called nightingales but Suzanne intentionally used the former in the portmanteau of her fictional bird species because she literally spells things out with her naming conventions!

Thus, any character who acts in defiance of the Capitol's expectations or designs is akin to a Mockingjay. It's Haymitch avoiding other tributes as much as possible and only winning by exploiting the arena's forcefield—the D1 girl's axe backfires, and she's taken out by her own weapon. It's Katniss holding out the berries and refusing to win on the Gamemakers' terms, forcing their hand to let both her and Peeta live. It's Reaper using the Capitol flag for his makeshift morgue.

It's all the tributes who gave solace, comfort, dignity, and respect to other tributes in their deaths (this happens A LOT but notice that all the D12 Victors do this). It's Thresh sparing Katniss for taking care of Rue. It's Peeta playing with the intent of helping Katniss win. It's Mags volunteering for Annie, it's Finnick resuscitating Peeta, etc. It's anyone risking their life or livelihood for someone else's sake. It's care, compassion, and even love persisting in the most brutal of circumstances.

For me, taking risks to care for others is what flies in the face of the Capitol ideology that people are inherently prone to war, violence, and destruction. This is especially true when it happens in the Games which are premised upon an "every man for himself" and "kill or be killed" mentality.

For me, taking risks to care for other people is the power of the Mockingjay symbol. It's also the meaning of the Hanging Tree song; risking everything for the chance of love and true freedom, even unto death. And that kind of hope is what rebellions are built on.

I just think that the Mockingjay pin means so much!!! I didn't even mention how, when Katniss pins it on her green shirt, she associates it with the freedom of being in the woods. It reminds her of her father whose singing voice was so beautiful that the mockingjays stopped to listen. The pin grounds her and makes her feel like she's taking a piece of home, a piece of her father into the arena.

Also, the pin is what makes Rue want to trust Katniss! For Rue, music is the one thing she can't live without, and back in D11 she sings to mockingjays to communicate that the working day is done. Katniss offers to give the pin to Rue, but Rue says she likes seeing it on Katniss better.

Also, let's not forget that the pin is a parting gift from Madge, Katniss's friend who truly cherishes her. As with the crowd who offers her the three fingered salute which she attributes to D12's respect for her father or Prim's loveableness, Katniss has difficulty recognizing that people like Madge already respect, admire, and care for her in her own right for her tenacity and bravery.

Madge is very insistent about informing Katniss that she's allowed a district token and implores her to wear the pin into the arena. This is likely a way of honoring her aunt who presumably also wore the pin as her district token. If so, then it's likely that Haymitch would have recognized the pin which may have given him an extra push to do his utmost to save Katniss because it reminded him of the girl he couldn't save.

Anyway, I feel like the intricacies of the mockingjay pin, its original owner, and its connection to the 2nd QQ are a little underappreciated. Like, this isn't even getting into the everlark parallels that write themselves... Please, Haymitch and Maysilee paved the way. They were the blueprint.

Personally, although I'm just as intrigued about the 2nd QQ as the rest of y'all, I'm fine with it being left up to the readers' imagination. There have been some great fan interpretations both in the form of fanfiction as well as the fan film by mainstay pro: https://youtu.be/7mUjssn86h4?si=PNH1rblPBp1Us5pg

I just find it kind of strange that, given how much interest there seems to be around Haymitch's Games, there isn't that much fan content, discussion, or analyses about them. Please feel free to contribute any thoughts, corrections, or reactions to this post!

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Anatomy of a Dalek

A Dalek is primarily made from Dalekanium and polycarbide and is technically a cyborg. To understand how a Dalek is created, see How Do Daleks Become Daleks?

Some Daleks will have variations on the below, but these aspects of a Dalek's anatomy are broadly applicable to most.

The Dome (aka dome section, head section, head dome) is attached to the neck via a docking clamp.

Eyestalk (aka eyepiece, eye antenna, tele-eye, eye-stick, optical stalk, sensory antenna, eyeball unit). The eyestalk is attached to the dome via a lens attachment, sitting on a pivot in a cowl. The eye itself is known as an eyelens. The eyestalk is covered in multiple insulator discs to protect it from radiation.

Luminosity dischargers (aka headlamp, radiation valve, dome light, vocaliser light, sound disc). It's not quite known how or why the luminosity dischargers sync up with Dalek speech, but they could be energy compensators, translation units, safety valves to release excess energy, or just lights to indicate when a Dalek's speaking.

Neck (aka grating section, upper grating section). Attached to the weapons platform via another docking clamp, or 'catch'.

Neck rings support the neck grille.

Neck grille (aka audio receptor grill, sensor grille, sensor mesh, sensor grid louvres) cover the mutant Dalek within.

Weapons Platform (aka shoulder platform, shoulder section).

Slats (aka solar power collection slats, solar slats, solar cells, shoulder slats, armour slats, sensor plates) are effectively solar panels that absorb energy to power the Dalek.

Gunstick (aka radiation gun, gun-rod, ray-gun, exterminator, blast-gun, energy gun, Dalek neutraliser, neutraliser, beam distributor, Dalek beam gun, Dalek gun, ruby ray blaster). Sits on a balljoint, controlled by armament circuits. Can be set to non-lethal, causing temporary paralysis, but maximum settings can split atoms apart. Some Daleks deliberately reduce the power of their gunstick so that the beam burns away the central nervous system outside inwards, so victims die within 2-3 seconds in complete agony.

Manipulator arm (aka tactile arm, arm-stick). Usually sits on a balljoint. Attachments can be swapped out for various tools depending on the needs of the Dalek. Some attachments include the plunger, flamethrower, seismic detector, electrode unit, sieve, syringe, blow torch, cutting tool, another gunstick, or a claw, or basically anything they need.

Base Unit (aka travel unit). Contains the motive unit, the elevation unit, and thrusters.

Sense spheres (aka sensor globes, sensor arrays, bumps) can do pretty much whatever you want them to, including detecting emissions, monitoring the surrounding environment, and acting as self-destruct mechanisms. They can also function as sockets for cables and wires, and some say the sensor globes are capable of free flight, allowing them to provide remote battlefield intelligence.

Bumper (aka fender). Possibly containing proximal alert systems to detect other Daleks, but more likely just softening collisions.

Gallifreyan Dalek Biology for Tuesday by GIL

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features:⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[chikaarisilver]

MEET MY PARTY!

PJO Ocs Edition

So I had the silly idea of introducing the main characters of Immortal Legacy, the PJO based rp campaing I've been playing with my friends since 2019! After so many years, we've done a lot of adventures together and this story has a very special place in my heart <3

P.D.: these are old artworks (2023 I think?), as I am currently working on updated individual character sheets :3

> Silver "Chi"

My character (aka the sona I made when I was 13 lmao)!

Godly parent: Hades

Pronouns: she/ her

Age: 15 at the beggining of rp, 16 now

Fatal flaw: trustfullness

Weapon: styxian sword

Powers: shadow travel and necromancy (good control), geokinesis, osteokinesis, umbrakinesis... (medium control), ferrokinesis (little control), cryokinesis (no control, only fueled by strong negative emotions).

Personality: really shy at first. Stubborn, sarcastic and impulsive, but also loyal and caring for her friends.

When her mortal mother passed away, Hades took custody of her. Silver left to live in the underworld without saying anything, leaving her mortal little brother behind. In the years that Silver spent in the Underworld, she was being trained by Achilles' ghost and met her best friend Lea, a boy who was being tutored by Medea!

After so many years missing in the Underworld, no authorities were able to find her, so she was presumed dead. Her goal is to find her mortal brother, who is somewhere in NY, but the fates may have other plans...

> Leandro/ Kleanthes "Lea"

Godly parent: Hekate

Pronouns: he/him

Age: 15 at the beggining of rp, 16 now

Fatal flaw: hubris

Weapon: a magic crosier

Powers: very lots of magic. Not only control over the Mist, but real witchy levels of magic. Very skilled in the majority of it, he's considered one of the most powerfull descendants of Hekate.

Personality: friendly, funny and always supportive, but also highly competitive. Can be ruthless and proud sometimes, but that's not something you should worry about as long as you're on his side.

Hekate took Lea with her to the Underworld when the Fates announced a great future for him, even tho he was still a baby. Since then, Lea has been studying magic from different tutors. First from Pasiphaë, then from Medea. When he was 14 he traveled to Eea, as Circe's new apprentice. There he met the only person who was able to match his magic: Millicent, a daugther of Bacchus and his most hated academical rival. After graduating at Circe's Lea returned to New York, looking for Chi.

> Yu-Shin "Yu"

Godly parent: Nemesis

Pronouns: he/him

Age: 19 at the beggining of rp, 20 now

Fatal flaw: loyalty

Weapon: katana

Powers: Energy balance: when in disadvantage, his stats can boost to match his opponent. The boost increases if the source of his reason is vengance.

Personality: sincere, responsible, friendly and protective! Definitely the big brother anyone would want.

Moved out from Japan with his father to New York, where he lived a no-so-lethal childhood. Started to attend Camp Half-Blood at the age of 11 every summer and, eventually, moved there all year round. He's actually captain of cabin 16 and the sword teacher of younger demigods.

These three have a siblings dinamic that makes me so emotional, found family has and always be my favorite trope. THIS is my GOLDEN TRIO. Seriously, I can't spend a day without thinking about them 😭😭😭 Feel free to ask anything about them! If you ask vía question box in my profile I'll happily answer with some doodles :3

You'll probably see me posting more Immortal Legacy content as I'm adapting ALL 6 years of roleplay into a comic!!

[splatsvilles-fashionista]

Splatoon 3 Version 6.1 Patch Notes Breakdown

That time of the month again! Let's take a quick look at these together, and that part is actually important, because people have cross-referenced the Japanese and English patch notes and confirmed that there are several mistranslations in the latter, so stick with me as we roll through these!

This patch is heavily focused on balance changes, and outside of those, the only thing that isn't a bugfix is of course the Mincemeat Metalworks renovation. With that out of the way, let's look at the Main Weapon changes:

N-Zap gets two more damage, which makes it combo better with other sources of damage like the splash damage from the '85's Suction Bomb. There seems to always be a completely unnecessary Shooter buff in every patch nowadays, and this is the one this time, but it's at least balanced out by the fact that this weapon is also getting nerfed further down the notes, but we'll get there.

Dynamo Roller will now deal lethal damage in a wider spread than it did previously. Splat Roller got this buff a while ago and it was pretty good for it, so this is a definitive W for Dynamo mains everywhere.

Flingza Roller gets the exact same buff, plus a buff that cuts 5 white ink frames off its' vertical flick. Some nice quality of life for sure.

Inkbrush now moves faster, cheaper. Three percent doesn't sound like a lot, but I promise you that even such a small change is going to throw your aim off quite a bit, so get ready to get circles run around you in Clam Blitz even more than you already do.

The Brella gets 13% better ink efficiency off its shots, and that's quite a lot! Brella likes to play the long game and draw out fights, and most builds for it run a lot of Ink Saver Main as a result, so this should give it some more ability flexibility.

Undercover Brella can now... do full jumps while firing? I don't think this is a very impactful change, but it is neat, and I think if used properly could be a way to get more mileage out of your shield and avoid damage.

This is a mistranslation!

The first change is actually the complete opposite of what it says in the patch notes. They did not reduce Squeezer's ink consumption when tap-firing, but increase it, making the cost tap-shots 9% more. It'll also paint slightly worse when holding down the firing button, and considering how this weapon has been utterly dominant at all levels of play both of these changes are fair.

Ballpoint gets a small accuracy decrease in long-range mode, which frankly seems a bit uncalled for, because this weapon hasn't been on top of the metagame for a long time. At least it's also kind of a paint buff?

And finally for Main Weapon changes, Stamper gets its charge slash paint cut by 10%. Compared to the changes this weapon has been getting in the past it's a bit of a slap on the wrist, but it does in fairness paint really well, and Neo Splatana Stamper does put out a lot of Crab Tanks, so this isn't an unjust change.

After that comes two Special changes, and these are very interesting:

Wave Breaker will now immediately locate enemies upon being placed for a short while. They don't specify the range or time of the effect, but I have to imagine it'll be within the same area of effect as the Wave Breaker's Waves. Giving it an immediate effect is really cool to me, it makes me think of Splatoon 1's Echolocator, which Wave Breaker already kind of felt like a rework of to begin with.

THIS IS A MISTRANSLATION TOO AND IT'S EVEN WORSE THAN THE LAST ONE

Again, this change is the complete opposite, reading the text you'd think this was a nerf to Ink Storm, but it's actually a buff, because it makes you heal faster in Kid Form when inside your own team's Ink Storms. This is essentially completely unprecedented, as we've never had anything that messes with the health regeneration system like this before, and I'm very curious to see how it shakes out.

And finally we have the Points-For-Special changes:

Neo Sploosh, Forge Pro, Luna, Bamboozler, and Zink Mini all get their Points-For-Special cut by 10 (a change Forge has been begging for since it released, seriously starting it at 210p was completely unreasonable) while Slattershot, N-Zap '85 (here's that nerf I mentioned at the very top of the list), Tri-Slosher nouveau, and Heavy Edit Splatling get another 10p added to their Special charge.

Overall I think this is a pretty good patch that has some really interesting ideas in it, but there is also a very notable omission. They went after all of the most popular Tacticooler weapons, and increased their Special charge, except for Snipewriter 5H. Snipewriter has been skyrocketing in popularity in competitive player for its' ability to serve as paint support, long-range damage, and Tacticooler spammer, all at once, and it got completely overlooked here. I suspect that nanowrimo is coming early in the world of competitive Splatoon 3, because everyone is getting their pencils ready.

[monstersdownthepath]

Homebrew Horror: Steraba

(Art source: Thistledown Players, from the MTG set Bloomburrow)

The tiny mouse-like Fey first mentioned here are known as Steraba, a type of House Spirit that forms a bond with a family of mice living among humanity.

The lore block in the linked post is more or less everything I've got on them, so I won't repeat myself here, but there are a few exceptions: namely, that they're most dangerous with their tiny bows, crafted from common household objects. They use slivers of barbed metal or splintering wood for their arrows which, despite their appearance, fire with high accuracy and leave painful and discouraging wounds. Painful, but not lethal, as Steraba will never kill anything but rats (whom they can always deal lethal damage to via Ratbane).

Also, figuring out how their Mouse Meal worked was a mechanical nightmare in my original draft and I'll spare you from looking at it. I eventually settled on a much simpler option.

House Spirit, Steraba CR 2 Neutral Good Diminutive Fey Init: +3; Senses: low-light vision, scent; Perception +9 ------ Defense ------ AC 17, touch 17, flat-footed 14 (+3 Dex, +4 size) HP 20 (4d6+4) Fort +2 Ref +7 Will +6 (+4 versus disease) DR 3/Cold Iron; SR 11 ------ Offense ------ Speed 20ft, burrow 5ft, climb 10ft, swim 5ft Melee Needle rapier +5 (1 nonlethal), bite +5 (1 nonlethal) Ranged Shortbow +5 (1d2 nonlethal) Special Attacks Ratbane Spell-like Abilities (CL 4th; Concentration +5) At-will--Mage Hand, Prestidigitation 1/day--Mouse Meal (see below) ------ Statistics ------ Str 2 Dex 16 Con 12 Int 10 Wis 15 Cha 13 Base Atk: +2; CMB -6; CMD 7 Feats Go Unnoticed, Weapon Finesse Skills Acrobatics +10, Climb +9, Craft (any one) +5, Escape Artist +8, Knowledge (Local) +5, Knowledge (Nature) +5, Perception +9, Sleight of Hand +7, Stealth +22, Swim +8 Languages Common, Sylvan SQ Compression, Fey Gift, Mouse Empathy (+5) ------ Ecology ------ Environment Any land Organization Solitary, pair, or family (1~3 plus 5~20 mice) Treasure Incidental ------ Combat: Steraba are not combatants. They will flee any combat they accidentally enter, using their stealth to do so if they can. The sole exception is against rats, whom they will bravely stand and fight against, and when facing people who continuously harm or kill mice, whom they will pester from afar with tiny arrows, using their climb speed to find advantageous positions.

Morale: Steraba flee if they're brought below 10hp. If their family is in danger, the oldest Steraba will stand and fight defensively until the family is safe before fleeing themselves, but will give their life if they must. ------ Special Abilities ------

Fey Gift (Ex): Once per year, a Steraba can craft a good-luck charm out of random bits and bobs and gift it to another creature. This charm acts as a Stone of Good Luck, but it can be just about anything; usually a badge or a pin. This charm retains its supernatural power until the Steraba which crafted it dies or creates another charm, or until the wearer knowingly and willingly commits an evil act. The good luck charm works only for the creature it was initially gifted to.

Mouse Empathy (Ex): This ability acts as the Wild Empathy ability of a Ranger, except it only affects mice. Steraba gain a racial bonus to this check equal to their Hit Dice (typically +4). Mice and giant mice never attack a Steraba unless magically compelled to do so.

Mouse Meal (Sp): Mouse Meal acts as the spell Create Food and Water, except it requires specific material components: At least one seed, grain, or nut. Each component provided, up to the limit of the spell (up to 16), is magically transmuted into a loaf of bread or a bowl of porridge that sustains a single Medium creature for a day, along with a small amount of honey, sugar, or jam (any flavor). Any food created by this ability turns to bitter crumbs after 24 hours, and conjured water evaporates.

Ratbane (Ex): Steraba have the Favored Enemy +2 ability of a Ranger, but it only applies to rats and dire rats, as well as creatures which are rat-like, such as Ratlings and were-rats (though most Were-rats are far beyond their ability to harm).

[incorrectlooneytunesquotes]

Inspector Faraway (Porky Pig): I g-g-got 8 days to my r-retirement, and I will N-N-NOT make a s-s-s-stupid m-mistake! Boston Quackie (Daffy Duck): Look, there is no bomb in that building! I will bet vital parts of my anatomy to the fact! Trust me, okay? Trust me! Inspector Faraway: Th-th-th-that's usually my f-f-first mistake!

[l1brarian1999]

Titania Loadout: Salt Special

So my buddy - @well-seasoned - found their Titania struggling a bit so we sat down and refreshed the build. The idea emerged to start sharing the loadout advice.

So let's start off:

Titania High mobility, great damage, and a very unique playstyle. The Cons, she's not the toughest, needs sustain, and lacks an inherent armour solution.

I've taken two Green shards for extra Corrosive Stacks, two Tauforged Blues for Armour to hit the armour sweet spot between 500 to 600 armour, and a Red Tauforged for Strength. I've tried making Crit work, just doesn't feel worth it for me.

I've stacked Shields and Aviator (plus Boreal's and Aerodynamic) for overall survivability, but a Shield Gating build would probably work better (not my thing), and you can tweak it for more health/armour tanking if that's more your jam.

Arcane Pistoleer's a great pick for Titania since it'll give her Dex Pixia infinite ammo when it procs which synergizes nice with Razorwing Blitz. Arcane Energize is the gold standard for Energy, so if you don't have one, drop Streamline for Fleeting Expertise, and Augur Secrets for Augur Message.

I've Helminth'd in Ophanim for CC & Armour Strip, over Lantern since it feels like a very weak ability, but I also think Terrify & Pillage are solid picks.

Could quite happily swap the aura out for Corrosive Projection for easier armour stripping, Brief Respite for Shield Gating, Combat Discipline for proc'ing Arcane Avenger, or Growing Power.

Dex Pixia

For the Dex Pixia, because they lack access to Arcanes, the build has to be pretty basic, so the principle here is to stack multipliers. Base Damage (Galvanized Shot) Elemental (3 Elementals, adjust per faction) Multishot (Lethal Torrent & Galvanized Diffusion) Faction Mod (Expel) Pistol Elementalist

The logic is that stacking just say, more raw damage or more elemental is additive, but adding these other mods is multiplicative.

Diwata

The Diwata is kind of garbage but I have found use for it by stacking corrosive, status, Shattering Impact, Healing Return, and attack speed to make a nice utility item

Weapons

Titania wants to spend most of her time in the Razorwing mode, so the weapons she uses doesn't matter as much but there are some nice options:

Kitguns, either in the Primary or Secondary, add a means of getting extra power strength and efficiency from Pax Bolt

The Grimoire, with most of the Invocations for more Strength (Vome Invocation), Duration (Ris) or Efficiency (Netra) but skip Xata / Energy Regen since it will be turned off during Razorwing.

Explosive Weapons of all kinds are a nice synergy for Titania - her 1st ability when alt-cast gives status immunity, making her immune to the knockdown.

Rakta, Synoid, or any weapons that can use the Blight or Entropy mods, can be a nice extra source of energy.

Pistols that synergise nicely with Pistoleer - most of them - are also a nice pick, but special mention for the Pyrana Prime.

I've gone with the Kuva Tonkor for a nice explosive option, nice to deal with little crowds or loot rooms and the aforementioned Knockback Immunity. For the secondary, I had the Atomos there for trying it against the H-01, but I think I would actually take the Kitgun for Pax Bolt. Now the Prisma Dual Cleavers are very specifically there because this is Salt's build, and those are their favourite melee weapons.

Companions

When Titania is in her Razorwing, a pet will disappear into some grey area, as will their Sentinel. This makes pets less overall useful to Titania, but I recommend a Vasca Kavat as they make for an excellent 'extra life' if you get taken out.

Focus

I would say Vazarin, Unairu, and Madurai are all solid choices, mainly because Zenurik and Naramon are not. Zenurik's energy regent will get shut off during Razorwing, and the Power Strength is only 20%. Naramon is too melee and finisher focused, and the Diwata is hot garbage.

[hobiebrownismygod]

Headcanon: Pavitr knows Kalaripayattu and uses it when he fights

History:

Kalaripayattu is an ancient form of martial arts that was specifically designed for the battlefield. It originated in a state named Kerala, in South-western India and is actually fairly similar to Kung-Fu.

In the 13th-16th century, Kalaripayattu was a way of life in Kerala, believed to have been often taught to children as customary training. However, after the British Invasion and imperialism of India, Britain set laws in place to quell any possibility of Indian rebellion, preventing people from practicing or training in this martial art form. After this, it was only taught and practiced in very rural areas in order to avoid confrontation with the law.

Eventually, in the 1920s, it was revived and during a period of traditional rediscovery. There was a rise in the number of Kalaripayattu schools and Kalaripayattu presentations gained a lot of popularity. Now, although still not as well-known as many of the other Asian martial arts, it is a widely-known martial art form in South India and practiced by many.

It is also believed to be the oldest surviving martial art in the world, with a history spanning over 3000 years.

Style:

Like most martial arts, Kalaripayattu focuses on mind over body. Having complete control over your mind is essential to being able to succeed in mastering this art.

Ashtha Vadivu are 8 poses derived from the instinctual movements of wild animals, poses that were designed to make your body more flexible and powerful. They also help the student develop balance and stability.

Maithari are 18 different exercises practiced to achieve peak physical fitness and heightened reflexes. By practicing these, one can strengthen their body and their mind in order to be able to properly participate in combat situations.

Kalaripayattu also involves the usage of different kinds of weapons. Spears, swords and shields are all used, along with maces and really any weapon that can slash, stab or cut. Special wooden whips, knives and staffs can also be used.

This is an example of a Kalaripayattu tournament!

Headcanon:

In the comics, Pavitr was often bullied because of the fact that he came from a small town and wore different clothes than the other boys in Mumbattan. He was given his powers by an ancient Yogi, gaining the magical powers of a spider.

Because Kalaripayattu is very spiritual and based off the religious myths, it would make sense for Pavitr to incorporate it into his fighting style! I think he would've learned it prior in order to protect himself from his bullies, and eventually began to use it when he fought villains as Spider-man as well.

Its a lethal fighting style with weapons, but in hand-to-hand combat, wouldn't be as deadly so it would make sense for Pavitr to use it when he fights, in order to defend himself or strike his enemies.

Just random thoughts <3

Sources below the cut!

[learnwithmearticles]

A summary of the stances spoken by Kamala Harris during the presidential debate on September 10, 2024.

Reinstating protections of Roe v. Wade

Continue addressing, as she refers to it, transnational organizations trafficking fentanyl and weapons

She does not refer to individuals, but to organizations during this portion

Not banning fracking

In fact, she mentions that the Inflation Reduction Act provided new leases for oil drilling

Investing in diverse energy sources

Decreasing dependence on foreign oil

Support starting up small businesses through tax deductions

Increase the child tax cut ($6,000 for the first year after birth)

Increase homes by 3 million by the end of her first term

Downpayment assistance for first-time home-buyers ($25,000 tax credit)

Protect social security and medicare

Protect seniors from scams

Needing a ceasefire deal for Palestine-Israel

Two state solution

Security in equal measure for both sides

Ensuring the U.S. has the most lethal fighting force in the world

A break from extraneous language, stating plain policy intentions. As stated in her closing statement, Harris is a candidate with the future in mind, seeking, generally, to help U.S. citizens. She unfortunately invokes politically ‘moderate’ stances such as her statements about Israel and military support, which should both be worded better. However, we can understand this within the context of a political system that would never permit someone rising to power while acknowledging the deep wrongs of the military and Israel. Overall, Harris is a far healthier candidate for the United States based on the principles claimed in this debate.

[lunaroseblake]

Adrenaline - Chapter 3 'Isn't Red A Pretty Colour'

Summary: Rafayel learns just how many shades of red there are.

Tags and TW for this chapter: Blood, Major character injury.

Rafayel breathed in a long salt infused breath, the sand beneath his feet soft as he walked along the beach, a gentle breeze kicking up the minuscule granules now and then. He let the sound of the waves hitting the shore relax him, tuning everything else out. He’d been in an art block and with his favourite little bodyguard not around because she was off in the boring realm of work he’d thought a nice walk along the shore would give him some inspiration for a new piece. Plus being what he was he was always drawn to the ocean, it soothed him, the rhythmic motion and sound of the waves bringing him comfort.

It had been the early afternoon when he’d set out and though it was late in to the autumn the temperature was moderately warmer than what would be expected of this time of year, the sun breaking through the white fluffy clouds and warming the ground below. He’d forgone his shoes, wanting to feel the sand on his feet and planning to only be out for at most a couple hours, though he did have some forethought as he’d grabbed a jacket and flung it over his shoulder. The temperature may be warm now but the ocean wind made it a few degrees cooler and the temperature tended to dip when the sun went down.

Before he knew it he’d walked a few miles having lost himself in his thoughts, the sky had darkened to a scarlet hue, the colour of its reflection in the sea making it glitter like scattered rubies. The deep blue of the ocean mixing with the red of the sky almost mimicked his eyes making a faint smile grace his lips. He stopped walking, facing the ocean as he watched the waves one after the other die against the shore, a never ending cycle of hypnotic movement. Breaking his gaze away from the water he watched as the sun dipped ever lower below the horizon, the last of its glow highlighting the crimson clouds above causing him to marvel slightly at just how pretty the colour red was.

He hadn’t heard the commotion behind him, hadn’t heard you calling out to him being too lost in his own mind. That was until he heard a horror stricken yell of your name. It brought him out of his reverie almost instantly, spinning around his eyes widened at the sight before him. He just about managed to take in the enormity of the wanderer that was charging towards him, the gleaming shards covering it basically screaming lethality. Just as he manifested his daggers and readied himself, it stopped dead in its tracks causing him to frown which was when he saw you. There were blood stains already on your shirt from wounds he couldn’t see, the scarlet red matching sunset behind him. Determination was present on your expression, your guns aimed to take a shot before a loud swoosh sliced through the air.

He’d barely had time to take a step with how fast the wanderer had moved. “No…” He all but whispered as he saw the weapon shine in the last light of the setting sun as it was swung forward. The heavy smack of the weapon as it struck you was deafening for him. “No, No, NO!” He was moving before he realised, he needed to get to you, he needed to make sure you were okay, but he knew. He knew with the force of that impact and the distance it sent you that no one would be okay from an attack like that, and yet he desperately willed himself to believe you’d be fine. “Y/N! Get up!” He shouted as he ran “Please, please get up” He murmured, gritting his teeth in annoyance at himself for not being able to help you.

He was momentarily stunned when blinding pure white light erupted around them, causing him to nearly trip over before the world slowly came back in to colour as he blinked a few times, his gaze picking out the source of the power surge. The blonde haired man was breathing heavily as he angrily stomped on the protocore the wanderer had left behind, his sword still alight, burning with energy before it dimmed, turning back in to the light silver of metal. He knew of Xavier, they’d met briefly once when he’d gone to your office to drag you out for lunch when he’d been bored one afternoon. Their eyes locked, Xaviers cerulean clashing with his mixed crimson and indigo ones before with near synchronised precision they both turned to you as you began to move.

————

“Y/N! NO!” You’d heard Xavier shout out to you before everything had gone black, like someone had flicked a power switch off on your body just after the impact had happened. There was nothing you could do to prevent it, you’d been too focused on trying to get Rafayel’s attention and the wanderer had moved so quickly you barely had time to register before the last thing you saw was its weapon surging towards you, the small shards covering it glittering in bloody crimson hues.

The darkness that came was peaceful, serene like being in a sleep so deep and comforting that you never wanted to wake up from it but as much as you’d like to give in to its clutches you knew you had to wake up. Rafayel was in danger and as much as he was a pain in the ass sometimes you had promised to be his bodyguard which with you currently being on the floor wasn’t helping anybody. Your body slowly restarted itself, warning bells foggy in your mind as it dragged you further from the darkness and you managed to slowly blink your eyes open only to be blinded by a flash of white light. At first you had just thought it was the sun but it soon gave way to darkening crimson clouds reminding you that it had been evening.

Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline still coursing through your veins but you didn’t feel or register any pain as you fought against all the warning signals your brain was screaming at you, telling you to stay down, to stay on the ground but keep awake as you struggled, dragging yourself up to your feet. You could tell something was seriously wrong but couldn’t quite figure out what. All that mattered to your hazy mind right then was to make sure that Rafayel was safe. Turning your head slightly you caught sight of not just Rafayel but Xavier as well, their lips were moving, your vision was slightly blurry but you could see their forms running towards you with fear etched in to every feature of their faces, yet you couldn’t hear them. The only thing you could hear was a slow, unsteady thump… thump… thump… and you registered it was your own struggling heartbeat.

Your adrenaline high was beginning to ebb and seeing Rafayel and Xavier now out of danger, everything began to spin. Sound was slowly starting to creep back through to your senses, you could vaguely hear the two of them shouting and even though they were close to you they still sounded so far away. It was then that the intensity of warning signals you’d ignored broke through to the surface and you were hit with an almighty torrent of pain coursing through your body, your chest howling the most and more worryingly, you realised you were finding it incredibly difficult to breathe. Short shallow gasps were all you could manage as you brought your fingers up to your chest only to feel sharp jagged edges and warm sticky liquid clinging to the tips. Glancing down you saw they were stained a dark crimson, matching the sky above you and poking out from your chest were dozens of those small crystal shards, glistening a strong scarlet colour from both the sky and more sickeningly your own blood. You staggered forward, trying to reach the two men in front of you only to realise the floor was gradually coming closer as your legs gave way.

A pair of strong arms gently caught you, stopping you from hitting the stone as Xaviers voice became clearer “Y/N! Oh god… Y/N can you hear me?” His voice was frantic with worry as he carefully lowered both of you to the ground, trying not to move you too much as he gently lay you down. The stone was cold against your back, slowly beginning to steal the warmth from you. It was a harsh contrast to the warm hands that gently yet firmly cupped your cheeks in an attempt to try and get you to focus on him in front of you “Y/N?! Y/N! Look at me, don’t you dare close your eyes okay? You’re going to be fine you hear? You’re going to be fine…” The latter of the sentence came out as more a quiet plea to convince himself that you were going to get through this.

Your vision was darkening around the edges now, the darkness toying you with its comfort, slowly trying to creep its way back to claim you and drag you down to the deepest depths. You breathed in, a shallow rasp of a thing that made your lungs feel as though thousands of tiny daggers were stabbing deep inside. Thump… thump… thump… You could feel your heart slowing, feel its unsteady beats try to desperately keep you alive “Is… Raf-” A chocked cough tried to force it’s way out of you accompanied by a trickle of unwanted crimson, the tang of copper coating your tongue. “O-kay?” You struggled to finish the sentence, words feeling like lead to get out.

Rafayel knelt next to you, his eyes taking in the extent of your injuries as he gently took your hand, holding it so carefully as if you might break “I’m here, I’m fine.” He said gently, smiling at you as he moved to hold your hand against his chest so you could feel his heartbeat, hating the way that your pale fingers felt like ice against his skin “See? Never better thanks to you miss bodyguard” He could feel tears brimming in his eyes and he willed them to stay at bay as Xavier tried to do anything he could to help you, his hands frantic in his movements. Moving slightly he gently lifted your head enough so he was able to let you lean it against one of his legs, the hand not holding yours beginning to stroke through your hair.

“Don’t forget princess, we have to get you to the ball tonight” Xavier said, his voice wavering at knowing you weren’t going to make it to your date but he had to keep you awake, keep you conscious “Zayne’s waiting for you so you have to get better okay?” At hearing Zaynes name you tried to move, you wanted to see him, wanted to be comforted by him but your body wasn’t obeying you. You were so tired, your limbs feeling heavy and numb “Zayne…” Even you were shocked by how weak your voice sounded, your breathing becoming shallower and your vision becoming dimmer. “Yes that’s right, Zayne, he’s gonna be right there for you princess don’t worry, you just have to stay with us okay?”

There was an unspoken agreement between Xavier and Rafayel it seemed as Rafayel took the role of trying to comfort you whilst Xavier tried to tend to your wounds. Rafayel handed him his jacket to use to try and clear some of the blood away so he could see which wound needed the most attention but there was so much blood, so much damage that he didn’t know where to really begin. Glancing at Rafayel he caught the mans eye before giving a subtle shake of his head, there was nothing more he was able to do and without help he knew that you weren’t going to live. He’d managed to send out an SOS distress call with his hunter watch just after he’d killed the wanderer so knew that as well as other hunters coming there would be paramedics also, he just wished they’d arrived sooner.

Rafayel closed his eyes against the wave of sadness when Xavier shook his head, breathing in a deep steadying breath before opening his eyes to look at you again, putting his smile back in place as he pointed out to the ocean “Hey, did you see the sunset tonight? Look, the sun has nearly gone down, why don’t we watch the last of it together?” Even though your mind was becoming hazy, you knew what they were doing, knew they were trying to help you stay calm, it was taught to all hunters as basic medical training and you appreciated it, but you knew you were dying, the amount of blood that stained Xaviers usually pristinely white uniform was a hint. But as much as you cared for the two men before you, you wished Zayne were here instead, wished he was the one holding your hand and watching the sunset with.

The pain was slowly beginning to fade away now and all you wanted to do was sleep. You weakly turned your head to watch the last remnants of the light fall beneath the horizon, the faint sound of sirens in the distance slowly drowning to nothing as your eyelids became heavier and heavier with each blink. Just as the dying light of day gave way to the oncoming darkness of night, you closed your eyes, allowing the darkness within to wash over you, letting it take you down in to the painless silence.

Both men had heard the sirens, Xavier standing to signal their attention over to them as Rafayel watched you close your eyes and finally let free the tears he’d been holding back, they quickly slid down his cheeks as he gritted his teeth, feeling the beats of your heart slow to a near stop as guilt slammed in to him. If he hadn’t have gone out on to the beach, if he’d have reacted sooner, if he’d heard you sooner. But there were too many what ifs and he couldn’t change what had transpired. You were so pale, so small and fragile in his arms he hated it, and it was his fault.

He didn’t realise the anguished cry that burst forth as the panic set in when he could no longer feel your heart beat, could no longer see the rise and fall of your chest from breathing and he nearly had to be dragged away from your body when the paramedics arrived to begin trying to resuscitate you. He stared at his hands, your blood was coating his fingers and staining his shirt crimson the same colour he marvelled at a few moments earlier. How pretty it had been.