#Intelligent Speed Limit Control

[vmantras]

BYD Seal Performance: A Game-Changer in Electric Sedans

₹53 Lakh The BYD Seal Performance is a standout electric sedan that blends cutting-edge technology, exceptional performance, and luxurious comfort. Below is a deeper analysis of its features and capabilities: Design and Aesthetics Exterior Design:The Seal Performance boasts a sleek and aerodynamic body with a drag coefficient of just 0.219, which enhances energy efficiency and contributes to…

[martinroyhall]

MG4 vs Ford Focus: Is it time to change?

All-new conventional petrol and diesel cars and vans are set to be banned from sale in 2030. New hybrids will be able to continue until 2035, on the condition that they can cover a ‘significant distance’ in zero-emission mode, a term which the Government has yet to helpfully define. And then there’s new plug-in hybrids which you will be able to buy for another five years, before they themselves…

[nostalgebraist]

Anthropic's stated "AI timelines" seem wildly aggressive to me.

As far as I can tell, they are now saying that by 2028 – and possibly even by 2027, or late 2026 – something they call "powerful AI" will exist.

And by "powerful AI," they mean... this (source, emphasis mine):

In terms of pure intelligence, it is smarter than a Nobel Prize winner across most relevant fields – biology, programming, math, engineering, writing, etc. This means it can prove unsolved mathematical theorems, write extremely good novels, write difficult codebases from scratch, etc. In addition to just being a “smart thing you talk to”, it has all the “interfaces” available to a human working virtually, including text, audio, video, mouse and keyboard control, and internet access. It can engage in any actions, communications, or remote operations enabled by this interface, including taking actions on the internet, taking or giving directions to humans, ordering materials, directing experiments, watching videos, making videos, and so on. It does all of these tasks with, again, a skill exceeding that of the most capable humans in the world. It does not just passively answer questions; instead, it can be given tasks that take hours, days, or weeks to complete, and then goes off and does those tasks autonomously, in the way a smart employee would, asking for clarification as necessary. It does not have a physical embodiment (other than living on a computer screen), but it can control existing physical tools, robots, or laboratory equipment through a computer; in theory it could even design robots or equipment for itself to use. The resources used to train the model can be repurposed to run millions of instances of it (this matches projected cluster sizes by ~2027), and the model can absorb information and generate actions at roughly 10x-100x human speed. It may however be limited by the response time of the physical world or of software it interacts with. Each of these million copies can act independently on unrelated tasks, or if needed can all work together in the same way humans would collaborate, perhaps with different subpopulations fine-tuned to be especially good at particular tasks.

In the post I'm quoting, Amodei is coy about the timeline for this stuff, saying only that

I think it could come as early as 2026, though there are also ways it could take much longer. But for the purposes of this essay, I’d like to put these issues aside [...]

However, other official communications from Anthropic have been more specific. Most notable is their recent OSTP submission, which states (emphasis in original):

Based on current research trajectories, we anticipate that powerful AI systems could emerge as soon as late 2026 or 2027 [...] Powerful AI technology will be built during this Administration. [i.e. the current Trump administration -nost]

See also here, where Jack Clark says (my emphasis):

People underrate how significant and fast-moving AI progress is. We have this notion that in late 2026, or early 2027, powerful AI systems will be built that will have intellectual capabilities that match or exceed Nobel Prize winners. They’ll have the ability to navigate all of the interfaces… [Clark goes on, mentioning some of the other tenets of "powerful AI" as in other Anthropic communications -nost]

----

To be clear, extremely short timelines like these are not unique to Anthropic.

Miles Brundage (ex-OpenAI) says something similar, albeit less specific, in this post. And Daniel Kokotajlo (also ex-OpenAI) has held views like this for a long time now.

Even Sam Altman himself has said similar things (though in much, much vaguer terms, both on the content of the deliverable and the timeline).

Still, Anthropic's statements are unique in being

official positions of the company

extremely specific and ambitious about the details

extremely aggressive about the timing, even by the standards of "short timelines" AI prognosticators in the same social cluster

Re: ambition, note that the definition of "powerful AI" seems almost the opposite of what you'd come up with if you were trying to make a confident forecast of something.

Often people will talk about "AI capable of transforming the world economy" or something more like that, leaving room for the AI in question to do that in one of several ways, or to do so while still failing at some important things.

But instead, Anthropic's definition is a big conjunctive list of "it'll be able to do this and that and this other thing and...", and each individual capability is defined in the most aggressive possible way, too! Not just "good enough at science to be extremely useful for scientists," but "smarter than a Nobel Prize winner," across "most relevant fields" (whatever that means). And not just good at science but also able to "write extremely good novels" (note that we have a long way to go on that front, and I get the feeling that people at AI labs don't appreciate the extent of the gap [cf]). Not only can it use a computer interface, it can use every computer interface; not only can it use them competently, but it can do so better than the best humans in the world. And all of that is in the first two paragraphs – there's four more paragraphs I haven't even touched in this little summary!

Re: timing, they have even shorter timelines than Kokotajlo these days, which is remarkable since he's historically been considered "the guy with the really short timelines." (See here where Kokotajlo states a median prediction of 2028 for "AGI," by which he means something less impressive than "powerful AI"; he expects something close to the "powerful AI" vision ["ASI"] ~1 year or so after "AGI" arrives.)

----

I, uh, really do not think this is going to happen in "late 2026 or 2027."

Or even by the end of this presidential administration, for that matter.

I can imagine it happening within my lifetime – which is wild and scary and marvelous. But in 1.5 years?!

The confusing thing is, I am very familiar with the kinds of arguments that "short timelines" people make, and I still find the Anthropic's timelines hard to fathom.

Above, I mentioned that Anthropic has shorter timelines than Daniel Kokotajlo, who "merely" expects the same sort of thing in 2029 or so. This probably seems like hairsplitting – from the perspective of your average person not in these circles, both of these predictions look basically identical, "absurdly good godlike sci-fi AI coming absurdly soon." What difference does an extra year or two make, right?

But it's salient to me, because I've been reading Kokotajlo for years now, and I feel like I basically get understand his case. And people, including me, tend to push back on him in the "no, that's too soon" direction. I've read many many blog posts and discussions over the years about this sort of thing, I feel like I should have a handle on what the short-timelines case is.

But even if you accept all the arguments evinced over the years by Daniel "Short Timelines" Kokotajlo, even if you grant all the premises he assumes and some people don't – that still doesn't get you all the way to the Anthropic timeline!

To give a very brief, very inadequate summary, the standard "short timelines argument" right now is like:

Over the next few years we will see a "growth spurt" in the amount of computing power ("compute") used for the largest LLM training runs. This factor of production has been largely stagnant since GPT-4 in 2023, for various reasons, but new clusters are getting built and the metaphorical car will get moving again soon. (See here)

By convention, each "GPT number" uses ~100x as much training compute as the last one. GPT-3 used ~100x as much as GPT-2, and GPT-4 used ~100x as much as GPT-3 (i.e. ~10,000x as much as GPT-2).

We are just now starting to see "~10x GPT-4 compute" models (like Grok 3 and GPT-4.5). In the next few years we will get to "~100x GPT-4 compute" models, and by 2030 will will reach ~10,000x GPT-4 compute.

If you think intuitively about "how much GPT-4 improved upon GPT-3 (100x less) or GPT-2 (10,000x less)," you can maybe convince yourself that these near-future models will be super-smart in ways that are difficult to precisely state/imagine from our vantage point. (GPT-4 was way smarter than GPT-2; it's hard to know what "projecting that forward" would mean, concretely, but it sure does sound like something pretty special)

Meanwhile, all kinds of (arguably) complementary research is going on, like allowing models to "think" for longer amounts of time, giving them GUI interfaces, etc.

All that being said, there's still a big intuitive gap between "ChatGPT, but it's much smarter under the hood" and anything like "powerful AI." But...

...the LLMs are getting good enough that they can write pretty good code, and they're getting better over time. And depending on how you interpret the evidence, you may be able to convince yourself that they're also swiftly getting better at other tasks involved in AI development, like "research engineering." So maybe you don't need to get all the way yourself, you just need to build an AI that's a good enough AI developer that it improves your AIs faster than you can, and then those AIs are even better developers, etc. etc. (People in this social cluster are really keen on the importance of exponential growth, which is generally a good trait to have but IMO it shades into "we need to kick off exponential growth and it'll somehow do the rest because it's all-powerful" in this case.)

And like, I have various disagreements with this picture.

For one thing, the "10x" models we're getting now don't seem especially impressive – there has been a lot of debate over this of course, but reportedly these models were disappointing to their own developers, who expected scaling to work wonders (using the kind of intuitive reasoning mentioned above) and got less than they hoped for.

And (in light of that) I think it's double-counting to talk about the wonders of scaling and then talk about reasoning, computer GUI use, etc. as complementary accelerating factors – those things are just table stakes at this point, the models are already maxing out the tasks you had defined previously, you've gotta give them something new to do or else they'll just sit there wasting GPUs when a smaller model would have sufficed.

And I think we're already at a point where nuances of UX and "character writing" and so forth are more of a limiting factor than intelligence. It's not a lack of "intelligence" that gives us superficially dazzling but vapid "eyeball kick" prose, or voice assistants that are deeply uncomfortable to actually talk to, or (I claim) "AI agents" that get stuck in loops and confuse themselves, or any of that.

We are still stuck in the "Helpful, Harmless, Honest Assistant" chatbot paradigm – no one has seriously broke with it since that Anthropic introduced it in a paper in 2021 – and now that paradigm is showing its limits. ("Reasoning" was strapped onto this paradigm in a simple and fairly awkward way, the new "reasoning" models are still chatbots like this, no one is actually doing anything else.) And instead of "okay, let's invent something better," the plan seems to be "let's just scale up these assistant chatbots and try to get them to self-improve, and they'll figure it out." I won't try to explain why in this post (IYI I kind of tried to here) but I really doubt these helpful/harmless guys can bootstrap their way into winning all the Nobel Prizes.

----

All that stuff I just said – that's where I differ from the usual "short timelines" people, from Kokotajlo and co.

But OK, let's say that for the sake of argument, I'm wrong and they're right. It still seems like a pretty tough squeeze to get to "powerful AI" on time, doesn't it?

In the OSTP submission, Anthropic presents their latest release as evidence of their authority to speak on the topic:

In February 2025, we released Claude 3.7 Sonnet, which is by many performance benchmarks the most powerful and capable commercially-available AI system in the world.

I've used Claude 3.7 Sonnet quite a bit. It is indeed really good, by the standards of these sorts of things!

But it is, of course, very very far from "powerful AI." So like, what is the fine-grained timeline even supposed to look like? When do the many, many milestones get crossed? If they're going to have "powerful AI" in early 2027, where exactly are they in mid-2026? At end-of-year 2025?

If I assume that absolutely everything goes splendidly well with no unexpected obstacles – and remember, we are talking about automating all human intellectual labor and all tasks done by humans on computers, but sure, whatever – then maybe we get the really impressive next-gen models later this year or early next year... and maybe they're suddenly good at all the stuff that has been tough for LLMs thus far (the "10x" models already released show little sign of this but sure, whatever)... and then we finally get into the self-improvement loop in earnest, and then... what?

They figure out to squeeze even more performance out of the GPUs? They think of really smart experiments to run on the cluster? Where are they going to get all the missing information about how to do every single job on earth, the tacit knowledge, the stuff that's not in any web scrape anywhere but locked up in human minds and inaccessible private data stores? Is an experiment designed by a helpful-chatbot AI going to finally crack the problem of giving chatbots the taste to "write extremely good novels," when that taste is precisely what "helpful-chatbot AIs" lack?

I guess the boring answer is that this is all just hype – tech CEO acts like tech CEO, news at 11. (But I don't feel like that can be the full story here, somehow.)

And the scary answer is that there's some secret Anthropic private info that makes this all more plausible. (But I doubt that too – cf. Brundage's claim that there are no more secrets like that now, the short-timelines cards are all on the table.)

It just does not make sense to me. And (as you can probably tell) I find it very frustrating that these guys are out there talking about how human thought will basically be obsolete in a few years, and pontificating about how to find new sources of meaning in life and stuff, without actually laying out an argument that their vision – which would be the common concern of all of us, if it were indeed on the horizon – is actually likely to occur on the timescale they propose.

It would be less frustrating if I were being asked to simply take it on faith, or explicitly on the basis of corporate secret knowledge. But no, the claim is not that, it's something more like "now, now, I know this must sound far-fetched to the layman, but if you really understand 'scaling laws' and 'exponential growth,' and you appreciate the way that pretraining will be scaled up soon, then it's simply obvious that –"

No! Fuck that! I've read the papers you're talking about, I know all the arguments you're handwaving-in-the-direction-of! It still doesn't add up!

[noxturnalmoth]

What Could Have Been

Summary: Silco, the Eye of Zaun, the Industrialist, was first and foremost a son of Zaun who wanted his motherland free. After an altercation in which his adopted daughter shot him in a fit of rage, he is left dying while the world goes on without him. His life's work and ideals soon trampled to nothing as his memory fades from the world. But what if he was saved?

Warnings: Near death, treating wounds

Word Count: 3,237

Masterlist: here

Chapter 1 - Alive

Panting, lungs on fire as if someone had poured gas and lit a match, legs pained as if you had walked through bear straps, back hunched as your arms, screaming and groaning in intense pain, you carried the unconscious man.

You were alive, but he was very well on his way to greet Kindred at the doors to the afterlife.

He was not a heavy man by any means, he was lithe, but he was cumbersome, as if he carried more weight than what could be seen, and from what you knew of him, he did. As your exhausted body rushed through the stabbing pain, jumping from rooftop to rooftop as you made your way down to your home, you still took breaks to check his pulse. Everytime it got fainter, but everytime he was still alive despite it all. So you pushed forwards, through agonizing pain as you cut through the lively streets of Zaun, no one paying any mind to a girl holding a man in her arms while she rushed above the roofs. Perhaps it was the first and only time of your life you've been grateful for Zaun's misfortune, no one would question you and that was good enough for you to push forward.

Your home was nothing great, an appartment at the top of a building at the limit between the Entresol and the Sump in a quaint square, it was safe, calm, the people were kind and the Chem Barons' influence didn't matter to such a small community. A hole in the wall, almost as if blessed by Janna herself. But as you entered the building, kicking the door open, the calm subsided.

"Are you okay?" Asked the worried voice of the landlord's son, Jarren, his sweet brown eyes looking at you panicked. "I'm alive, run upstairs and open my door for me please kid, because he won't be for long." He nods, his small body taking on the stairs two by two, speeding to the top as you did the same, your ankle twisting as you landed badly on a step but you pushed forward, determination fuelling your body like coal and vapor fuelled Piltover's machines. At the top your apartment was open, Jarren sitting at the small dining table as his knee bounced in worry. Scared your adrenalin would run out soon you hurried up the stairs to the mezzanine where your room was, curtains acting as both walls and door while you rush into them, too panicked to properly open the fabric as you lay the dying man in your arms on the comfort of your bed. "Is that..." I hear a whisper as I take the man's pulse again, for a second you freeze believing him dead, but you felt it, a weak pump of blood beneath your finger, a soft breath on your cheek; he was still hanging on. And so would you. "No matter who he is, he's a Zaunite and he's dying, and I'll be damned if he dies in my arms. Get me my kit Jarren." You turn to him, panting voice strained from thirst and exhaustion while you reach for the desk chair, sitting near the person you've saved, or at least were actively trying to.

Silco, the Industrialist, the Eye of Zaun. A man who, in a decade gained much more power than anyone ever had in Zaun other than Vander. A man of great contradiction, flooding the streets with drugs yet protecting those under his hand from any evil done by the other Chem Barons. Ruling with an iron fist, imposing his violence and control over the entire city, yet fending for it by slowly and intelligently gaining on Piltover's enforcers. Some deemed him a traitor, a monster, some deemed him a hero. But in the world there was no dark black or pure white, there were though, millions of shades of gray, dirty and mixed, a contradiction to themselves. You didn't know him personally, and you doubt that anyone really did, but you still didn't want to judge whatever was said by whomever on the streets. He had once been a revolutionary, fighting for Zaun, and in your mind you wagered that he still was in a way. What changed him so drastically from a bright eyed boy to a bitter comandeering man, you didn't know. Nor did you want to, especially at the moment.

All you knew was that he was a Zaunite, and that he was dying. And that was enough for you to want to do anything in your power to save him.

When Jarren came back with a chest, big enough to cover the upper half of his body, he set it next to Silco on the bed shakily watching the bleeding man tainting your sheets red. Then you, your upper body stained with oxydizing blood, crusting at the edges, the ruby red becoming a burnt umber. "Go Jarren, and please don't tell your folks? I'll deal with that myself, so you can rest easy." You kiss his forehead and send him on his way, hearing the door click downstairs, you then begin working on the older man laying before me. Trying to undo his vest clasp by clasp, which were very inconvenient when trying to save him so you just cut through them preferring his wrath over ruined clothing over a dead man, and opened his shirt throwing it on the ground as it was ruined, bullets having ripped about a handful of holes through the delicate fabric. You turn the man over, checking if any bullets had come out, a couple had, but that meant you had to remove a few yourself. "Shit." You mutter roughly to yourself, picking tweezers, a needle, a spool of suture wire, alcohol and leaning over Silco, and after shakily passing the wire through the eye of the needle you cleaned and closed the wounds which held no bullets. Then came the most harrowing moment, picking up the tweezers and cleaning up the wounds you search for the bullets remaining in the man's abdomen, checking on his disappearing pulse as you go. Pulling out one, two, three, four bullets. And after wiping out your sweat with an arm, of which the strength was waning, you pushed yourself further, suturing the body, praying for it to not grow any colder as you quickly put ointment on the freshly stitched wounds and dress them. He had lost too much blood, and before you pumped air in his lungs you had to make sure he had enough. So, weakly you grab a tube, a needle on each extremity connecting you with a pinch as your blood transfused to him, your fist clenched and a newly tied elastic band around your bicep.

After what seemed an eternity of providing blood and checking his pulse, which had thankfully stabilized, you decide to help him breathe deeper, the last step to what you hoped and prayed was a successful endeavor. "Forgive me." Is muttered as you take away the tube and elastic, getting closer to his face and angling his head backwards with a careful and soft grip, placing your lips upon his and breathing out in his lungs as hard as you could to get oxygen back into his declining body. Switching to cardiac massage after a while, pumping his chest with two strong cupped hands, before going back to breathing out, and so on so forth in a morbid dance. His lungs expanding as yours deflated, your warm hands pushing against his frigid chest.

You had kissed death, and he felt cold.

But as cold and pale as as he was, a soft flush of pink came back to his skin, warmth returned as his blood pumped once more through his heart and veins, no longer the soft pulsing of an half empty body but the thrum of a survivor's. Tears of relief escape your eyes as, when you go give him oxygen one last time, his breath fans your face, an almost imperceptible breeze no more. And then came rushing all the feelings you had locked away during your mission, tears fashing your grimy face and replacing soot by salt, heart beating madly like a derailing train, your blood too hot for your body like bubbling lava right beneath the crust of Runeterra. Skin not quite feeling like your own as you try to claw it, at your arms and chest to rid yourself of his blood and so that the pain forces you to snap back to reality. Your lungs gulping air voraciously as if you had been drowning, and in a way you had been, under the weight of someone's near death. Under the weight of The Eye of Zaun's mere existance within your microcosm. And as you shuddered, choking out sobs that you were trying to quiet behind gritted teeth, you felt the rise of his chest as he took a large breath, and another. As if it was guiding you to do the same.

So you did.

In, hold and out.

In, hold and out.

The blood and sweat covering you, both your own and his, felt stickier now, your skin hotter, but your vision was clearing and your sobs stopped piercing through your chest like lances. He was alive, you had saved him and you were alive as well. No matter what else would happen, you'd deal with that in due time. Today you had saved someone, and you were proud of it. The demons of your mind taking steps back as this warm and bright flickering flame gained on them, calming their hissing and screaming for a moment as you caressed Silco's forehead, feeling the fever coming as you raked the few stands of hair that fell on his forehead back into the slick back crowning him with silver and obsidian. It was well into the night, but still only the beginning of it all, so with a deep breath you get up from the chair, immediately falling back at the pain in your left ankle. The adrenalin had completely suppressed your pain for the time you were actively trying to maintain Silco alive while he couldn't do so himself, but now that most of the pressure had gone, so had the one thing keeping you from being distracted. And so, groaning while your ankle felt like the clawed hands of the damned were dragging it to hell, you lifted your foot up bandaging it to the best of your ability while hissing, tying it hard so keep it nice and safe.

Walking back downstairs was painful, long and chronovore, especially when you came back, a basin full of cool water and a rag held tightly in your arms as you waddled back up. Now, was a twisted ankle the worse you had? Not by far, not in the fissures and especially not for someone like you. It didn't mean that you felt any better about the scalding flashes of pain burning your foot alive every time you set it to the ground though. But no matter when you have a man to take care of, man who was the most notorious person in the lanes and who almost died in your arms. And while his face had a frigid, pained frown, tight jaw and a deeply set furrow in his brows before, what you saw now as you entered back into your room through the curtains was akin to a child falling back asleep into their parents' arms after a nightmare. The storm had passed, even his body knew that, but now was going to be a different kind of conundrum. Unlike the fast paced, angry and tumultuous waters that you were sailing as you inched his body away from death little by little, now you'd have to face dead calm. No wind to push your sails, no waves to rock your boat, no cloud to paint abstract shapes in the canvas of the sky. You'd be at a standstill, fighting off his fever and protecting his body while he healed enough to gain back conciousness. And so after placing the cold wet rag on his forehead you pulled another couple of blankets, placing them on top of his frail form after wiping his body a little bit of the blood and sweat, focusing on his feet and upper body as you wished for him to keep as much of his privacy and decency. They were all he had left after all.

The world was unmoving and Zaun was cruel, not by its own fault at first, the separation from its sister Piltover by her elites having created disparity and a life of slavery at the hands and under the feet of comfortable Piltovans. The Undercity had to move fast to keep up with its sister's demands, and while many were just exhausted hard working folks, many also turned to depravity and horrible methods to get whatever they felt entitled to have. After all, if no one in Runeterra cares about you, would you be seen any more wrong if you did whatever it was you wanted? And so, through the fast paced life riddled with death, exhaustion and people fending for themselves as well as people taking it all, the trenchers had more than enough on their plates. Even if someone as infamous as Silco were to die, not much would change unless someone ambitious and powerful enough entered the game. The Eye of Zaun, as soon as his heartbeat started to fade, was already doomed to be forgotten, nothing more than old news as the new status quo was left at the hands of miscreants that had it all yet again. Just another day down in the Undercity, where everyone is but a chunk of coal getting burnt through by their neighbor or by the gilded Piltovan "Progress", while you are left in the soot and chemicals.

Deciding to stay up until he showed any sign of waking, you sighed as you slowly made your way back down, preparing a pot of strong tea and a quick meal to take upstairs on a metal tray. The cold wood of the floorboards groaning as you make your way back up and the clinking of the tray on your desk clashing with your sigh of relief when you sit down for good, drinking your tea and eating as you stared absentmindedly at the wall in exhaustion. While the physical exhaustion was something you were used to as a blacksmith, the mental exhaustion, albeit not new either, was catching up to you. The events of the night overwhelming you, filling you with dread at what would happen next, at how Silco would react towards you or towards his situation as a whole. You didn't know all that happened, but what you heard was enough, he was crumpled on a high chair when you stepped out of the shadows.

You were trying to find your way to a Chem Baron meeting to listen in, your own plans of revolution like a flame stoked by despicable Zaunites and elistist Piltovans alike as you fought off your own secret war. You made your way to a building to take cover as you waited for the meeting to take place a few hours from then, in a building right next to it. Stopping your nonchalant trek into the empty place as you hid in the shadows, having heard a girl, presumably Silco's daughter, have an episode while her sister, a young adult named "Vi" it seems, was trying to reason with her. Silco sounded desperate, fearful, and angry, and while you knew the last one as something that could be a normal feeling from him, desperation and fear were far from what you expected in the man. A woman with a high Piltovan accent named "Cait", apparently the sister's friend, tried to reason with her zaunite companion, telling her that "Powder" was gone and they needed to end "Jinx". The last name you knew at the very least. But after a lot of arguing, the younger girl entered a state of frenzy, as if she was hearing much more than any of us in her fractured mind, and a fast and heavy noise was heard. A machine gun. After that, listening was a blur up until the girls had left and all you had in mind was saving whoever got shot, which just so happened to be the most powerful man in all of Zaun.

Hours pass while you're at his bedside, food eaten, tea drunk and eyes heavy but still holding on. Two days without sleep and this would be your third, but you couldn't falter, you had to take care of Silco and you would no matter what. No matter if you were sweaty and bloody, no matter if everytime you went to prepare a snack and tea your foot would scream at you, nothing mattered but this singular thing. Making sure that the man in your bed was safe and sound. Any shift in his expression or breathing were known and taken care of, more blankets, another wet rag, a check of his pulse, redressing his wounds and then wait. Again and again, for days, you give your all taking care of Silco. No rest, enough strong tea to kill a Noxian warrior, enough food to keep your energy levels as much as a sleep deprived metal worker can were how you spent your days; refusing to spend more than five minutes away from him. You were dirty and the stench of caked blood on you was horrible enough that you threw that shirt away and replaced it with a cleaner one from your wardrobe, using the cold water basin and a second rag to provide yourself with the smallest bit of hygene.

After eight days without sleep, and six days of caring for Silco, you gave out, body leaning forward from its position on your chair and leaning your chest on your bed, head on the mattress as your arms cradled it, hair spilling like an inverted halo as sleep forcefully took you. Usual nightmares trapped your mind, although your exhaustion was such that you couldn't wake up from them, forced to live and re-live through them like you were a puppet, manipulated by invisible strings as you were shackled within your own head. A gasp waking you up with a start and making you fall backwards from your chair as a younger you punched a man through his chest, gripping his heart and squeezing it as cheers were heard all around. Groaning, you drag your weak body to the bed, sitting yourself on the edge of it slowly while minding the pulsating pain in your overstrained ankle. Your elbows settle against the tops of your knees as your head burrows itself in your hands, gripping at the tendrils of hair as you try to swallow your shivers. Eyes closing to forget, then reopening at the visions of horror engraved beneath your eyelids. Ears filled with remnants of noise as your room rings with ghost filled silence. And as you take one last steadying breath running your hands down your face to wipe away at the last of your nightmare your airways are blocked, a wet rag wrung tight around your windpipe.

"You have five seconds to explain what happened before I snap your neck."

m.list || next

Silco Masterlist: here

Arcane Masterlist: here

Navigation: here

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Showing Emotions: Anger

When it comes to description, showing what emotions the characters are going through rather than telling can always be a challenge. Let's say our character is angry. We have several avenues to convey that from the following list:

Dialogue and Speech

Your character may become short with people, and respond with limited, terse answers. Another type of character may become more verbose, stretching out their sentences with vocabulary they don't normally use to make a point. (If their intelligence was insulted, they could try to make themselves sounds smarter, for example).

Consider word choice (the character who says "I hate you" versus the one who chooses "I despise you"), contractions ("I will not" versus "I won't"). On the entire flip side, maybe they go quiet, hiding their anger rather than speaking.

Vocal Cues

You should also think about how a character is speaking. Clipped tones, raised voices, a hitch in their words as they get emotional, or the character that drops to a monotone to maintain control.

You can work beyond dialogue tags to bring more characterization into it. "He snapped" works, but maybe you want to be more clear with something like "his tone grew sharper with every word."

Body Language

Humans tend to do the same basic things when upset - clench fists, cross arms, turning physically away from whoever their mad at. Internally, they may feel hot or flushed, their stomach clench with tension, or their heartbeat pick up speed.

Since those internal feelings could relate to many emotions, it can be useful to create an emotional map for your character's responses. If they get flushed when angry, how does their body react when they get scared? Nervous? Excited?

Thoughts

Relaying what a person is thinking, especially if they aren't outwardly reacting or speaking, can be useful. A direct thought (conveyed with italics) or an indirect thoughts ("she thought that was suspicious, but kept it to herself") can help you flesh out how your character is feeling in the moment.

When editing, keep an eye out for phrases like he thought, she realized, they felt, etc.You can get snappier sentences by finding ways to edit these out - but don't worry about them when drafting. Whatever gets the words on the page helps!

Physical Reaction

Similar to body language, what I mean here is what people do without realizing it. Widened eyes, flared nostrils, flinching or pulling their shoulders back are all reactions people don't control and usually don't realize they're doing. A character could rub an old injury when talking about the person responsible, or wring their hands when talking about something stressful.

Your character can have particular quirks, like tilting their head when starting to get annoyed, or standing straighter when trying to make a point. These are things they're completely unaware that they do, unlike more conscious body language like chewing their nails or gesturing.

[rebelfell]

Barbeddheimer took over a little bit…stand by…

“Hey, Eddie…you think we could talk?”

Eddie’s head shot up hearing Barb’s voice, his heart swelling seeing her standing in the doorway to the drama room. She was early, catching him right in the midst of setting up the map, on his knees and digging around in his bag.

“Of course!” he said, clumsily scrambling to his feet, his voice coming out a lot smoother than his movements. “Anything for you, gorgeous. What sort of boon does my fair mage crave?”

“It’s about that, actually,” Barb answered.

She hugged the notebook in front of her chest a little tighter, looking down to hide the small smile creeping across her lips. Lips that Eddie, as per usual, was having trouble keeping his eyes off.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“The whole…I don’t know…the flirty stuff. I was wondering if maybe you could cool it a bit?”

Oh, wow. So this is what it felt like for your heart to fall out of your ass. Eddie had to lean on the edge of the table, staring down at nothing in particular as wave after wave of guilt hit.

He curled his fingers under the edge, digging his nails in the particle board. What was he thinking? How could he have done this? Screwed up so colossally with the only one who mattered?

“Shit, Barb, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…I mean, I never wanted to make you uncomfortable—”

“No, no, it’s not that,” she assured him quickly, giving a little shake of her head and chuckling in spite of herself, “I actually, um…I kind of like it.”

Eddie felt a lot of things at once. Relief, first and foremost, followed by a rush of confusion.

“Oh,” he said. “So then…what’s the problem?”

“Well, I just,” she sighed, her eyes rolling behind the frames of her glasses. Not in annoyance, just like she’s trapped in thought. “I guess I like it too much? And I know you don’t really mean it—”

“Sorry, wait—don’t mean what, exactly?”

“You know, just that you…”

Barb tugged her bottom lip back with her teeth, and it took every bit of Eddie’s severely limited self-control to keep his mind out of the gutter.

“That you…like me, or whatever. I’m sure you do this with everyone, but I don’t get attention like that, really ever, and I’m not used to it and—”

Okay, that’s it. Eddie pushes himself off the table and starts to wave both his hands back and forth, the chains on his zippered sleeves and the cuff bracelets on his wrists clacking together.

“Hold on, hold the fuck on one minute...”

Eddie pinched his eyes closed, his brain running through thoughts at a speed that made him dizzy. He knew he’d been maybe a bit too forward, but he couldn’t help it. She was so smart, so wildly, incredibly fucking smart, it was more like a superpower than mere intelligence.

In spite of himself, Eddie sort of loved seeing her week after week outwit and outmaneuver all his traps and pitfalls. She always saw them coming even when the rest of the party were none the wiser. And she’d gotten them out of endless scrapes and jams by thinking her way out.

It absolutely infuriated Eddie, for sure, but only about half as much as it turned him on.

“So, wait…you think I’m just messing around?”

“No, not messing with me,” Barb answered him carefully, “but if you’re trying to make me feel welcome, or part of the club or something, I wanted you to know you don’t need to.”

Eddie’s head fell back on his shoulders, staring up at the stage lights hanging overhead like he might find some kind of answer hiding in the rafters.

As it was, he was gonna have to go off the cuff.

“Barb, I hate to break this to you,” he chuckled, “but I don’t act nearly this dumb with anyone— let alone everyone. This is…all for you.”

Barb blinked back at him curiously, lips pursed in confusion and her brow wrinkled like when she came to an equation that tested her verve.

“What do you…”

Before she could finish asking, Eddie closed the distance in between them with three long strides. Her breath stuttered as he took the notebook out of her hands, revealing the Hellfire emblem that was plastered across her chest. He flipped it to the first blank page and scribbled something down with the pen from behind his ear.

He then handed the notebook to her, letting the tips of his fingers brush with her trembling ones as she took it back and tucked it in her arms.

“Let me know?” he asked, tipping his head at her and holding out the pen he’d just used.

It was one of hers. She loaned it to him one of the first times they had studied together, and it had not left his person since. Not until now.

She took it from him, that little wrinkle in her brow not budging as she opened up her notebook and started flipping through the pages until she found his scrawl among her neatly printed words.

[birdofmay]

What's the difference between nonverbal and nonspeaking?

I have posts about nonverbal autism, but none about the single topic "What's the difference between nonverbal and nonspeaking?" So this will be a handy linked blog entry for my pinned post.

All summed up: There is no real difference, it's a matter of preference. Please ask us what term we prefer and respect that choice. It's a sensitive topic because there has been a lot of discourse around it ☝🏼

Alright. First things first: Nonverbal is a medical term not exclusively for autism. In the medical field, "nonverbal" simply means that your speech is extremely impaired or fully absent. Yes, there are many meanings of "nonverbal", but this is what doctors mean. Did you know that there's nonverbal cerebral palsy too? (External link)

But let's focus on autism. Autistics who can't speak are said to have "nonverbal autism".

Discourse #1 - the mind is intact

There are many reasons why some autistics never learn to speak. One reason can be non-acquired apraxia (i.e. not due to a stroke, TBI, Alzheimer's, etc.), which leads to limited motor control. If it affects the mouth and throat only, individuals "know what they want to say", but their mouth doesn't cooperate. They either struggle to get words out clearly/don't get anything out at all, or their mouth seems to have "a mind of its own" - they say things they didn't want to say. If apraxia affects the whole body, this goes for actions too. Either they can't make their body do what they want to do (e.g. they want to point at a ball but their arm won't move) or their body does things they didn't want to do (e.g. they want to point at the ball but instead their finger points at the floor).

As you can imagine, this situation is really unfortunate when a therapist wants to test your intelligence. You can't get words out, so they ask you to show them what a triangle is. You know what a triangle is, but your body does its own thing. You point at the circle instead of the triangle, and your therapist concludes that you don't understand simple instructions. They assume intellectual disability. You're misunderstood all your life and everyone thinks that you can't learn to communicate, that you don't understand language. You're frustrated.

Luckily, at some point some people realised that these autistics CAN learn to communicate and in fact are very capable and understand language just fine. That was when apraxic autistics talked about this misunderstanding online. They talked about how they were mistreated and underestimated, that people should always "presume competence". They coined a new term for themselves: "Nonspeaking". In their opinion, "nonverbal" doesn't describe their experience and makes it sound like they can't learn to read or write. "My mind is intact, I can make intelligent choices about my life!" (External link)

Sounds good? Well, it may be surprising to know that most of us on Tumblr who can't speak either don't mind being called "nonverbal" or actively prefer nonverbal over nonspeaking. How can that be?

Discourse #2 - the mind isn't always intact

There are other reasons why some autistics never learn how to speak. Most of the time, in contrast to "nonspeaking self-advocates", we do struggle to understand language and our mind is not "intact". We have language disorders, brain damage, slow processing speed, often ID. The latter is why most of us aren't on any social media. My ability to communicate isn't average for us, it's an exception!

When the "say nonspeaking" wave reached Tumblr, I think at first most of us who are on social media liked that idea. We spread awareness about how terminology is a preference thing, that "nonspeaking" is about overcoming years of mistreatment and about empowerment. That some of us think that "nonverbal" sounds like we can't communicate and can't understand language, when that's not true. But, as I said, most autistics who never learned how to speak aren't online and therefore can't participate in this discourse. "Nonspeaking self-advocates", on the other hand, are on social media and love to participate. But they are a minority among those who can't speak.

The result? At some point it got a little ableist. The mindset "We are intelligent and understand language" turned into "You guys with ID and language disorders make us look bad" and THAT turned into speaking over and ignoring us. Or harassing even. "You have to call yourself nonspeaking, otherwise you're a bad person!" and so on. We responded "No, you say you're intelligent and your mind is intact. Good for you, but ours isn't. You erase our existence and we don't relate to your experience. We don't identify with your word." It was worse on other platforms, at some point the term "nonspeaking supremacist" was coined similar to "aspie supremacist".

Discourse #3 - free interpretation of a term that's NOT loosely defined??!

And last year, a really strange thing happened: Speaking autistics somehow mixed up the "To me personally, nonverbal sounds like I can't learn to communicate and don't understand language at all" and incorrectly informed others "So there's a difference between nonverbal and nonspeaking. Nonspeaking means that you can't speak and nonverbal means that you also can't communicate in other ways".

They took it as a fact and informed us that we "by definition" actually are nonspeaking because we can communicate via text. 🤦🏻‍♀️

I repeat: Most of us who can't speak aren't on social media. So this misinformation again spread everywhere because we weren't enough, we weren't loud enough. We can't ever be loud enough because, exactly: Most of us aren't on social media.

Now we weren't harassed by fellow nonverbal/nonspeaking autistics, nope, NOW suddenly speaking autistics from ALL over the world tried to inform us that we shouldn't call ourselves nonverbal - NOT aware that by now "nonspeaking" got a slightly ableist connotation in the process 😵

Here's an example of how wild things were last year...

And that's not enough: Suddenly everyone assumed that autistics who can't speak due to apraxia MUST call themselves nonspeaking because that's where the movement started. No, even apraxic autistics sometimes prefer "nonverbal", and they have every right to do so!

As things are now...

So, that's why most of us on Tumblr prefer nonverbal. Oh, and by the way:

Whenever someone isn't aware of this and makes a "To me, nonverbal means..." post, all I think is "Oh, not again, please not again", and I see this war flashback meme in my mind's eye 😅

Every "To me, nonverbal means..." post that ends with "And that's why I prefer nonspeaking" has the potential to get loud and start this harassment and misinformation all over.

Every new post that tries to define nonverbal and nonspeaking could start this all over again.

Because nonspeaking supremacists are very very loud. And speaking autistics are usually very very uninformed about us. And most nonverbal/nonspeaking autistics aren't on any social media.

[darkintothedawn]

DAY THREE || Stiles Stilinski 'Teen Wolf'

Pairing — Stiles Stilinski x Gender Neutral reader

Summary — Day three of 'THE BOYFRIEND CODE'. Stiles is confident Batman would win in a fight against Superman but Scott begs to differ. You're not exactly all too interested in the argument but you do find it fun to stroke the flame, especially when Stiles gets annoyed.

3. Thou shalt never, under any circumstances, team up with Scott against thy boyfriend in any and all debates, disputes, or Nerf wars.

Memo— You can find the rest of the 'THE BOYFRIEND CODE' here.

Word Count — 4084

Warnings — Fluff. Stiles getting pressed. Me showing off my very limited comic book knowledge.

Masterlist | Stiles' Adventures

“That’s ridiculous, Scott,” Stiles said, his voice teetering on the edge of exasperation as he waved his free hand in the air. “You can’t seriously think that Superman could beat Batman in a fight. It’s not even about powers—it’s about strategy, intelligence, and preparation. Batman has plans for everything, dude. Everything.”

Scott rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “And I’m telling you, no amount of prep time is going to help when Superman can literally throw him into the sun. Game over.”

“Throw him into the—are you even listening to yourself!?” Stiles gestured wildly, his words tumbling out at breakneck speed. “You’re talking about a guy who’s best friends with freaking Lex Luthor and still manages to survive every stupid plan that bald maniac comes up with. You think Batman doesn’t have, like, fifty contingency plans for Superman? Kryptonite ring, red sun lamps, whatever weird Bat-tech he has stashed away in the Batcave—he’s got it covered.”

Scott raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “So you’re telling me Bruce Wayne, a guy with zero superpowers, can beat an alien who can shoot lasers out of his eyes and fly faster than the speed of sound?”

“Yes!” Stiles snapped, his tone indignant. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Batman doesn’t need superpowers—he’s got brains and gadgets and, you know, the ability to think more than two steps ahead. Superman would show up all smug, ready to throw a punch, and bam—kryptonite dust bomb. Fight over.”

Scott sighed, shaking his head. “You’re seriously overestimating him. Superman’s too fast, too strong, and too durable. There’s no way Batman could even land a hit before he’s down for the count.”

“Oh, come on,” Stiles scoffed, his fingers tightening slightly around yours as you kissed the back of his hand to calm him down. He took a deep breath, his words slowing just enough for him to sound less frantic. “You’re forgetting the most important part: Superman’s weakness isn’t just kryptonite. It’s his morals. He’s always holding back. Batman would use that against him—he’d go for the mind games, not the physical fight.”

Scott frowned, clearly considering it for a moment before shaking his head again. “Okay, but what about the time Superman beat Batman in Hush? He didn’t hold back then, and Batman still lost.”

Stiles groaned like Scott had personally offended him. “Are you serious? That wasn’t even a real fight. Superman was being mind-controlled by Poison Ivy, and Batman was still holding his own. If he’d been trying to actually win, it would’ve been a completely different story.”

“You’re reaching,” Scott shot back, smirking slightly. “Superman’s just better. Admit it.”

“Never,” Stiles declared, his voice firm and defiant. “I would rather die on this hill than admit that Superman—an overpowered boy scout in spandex—could beat Batman in a fight.”

Scott snorted, shaking his head as he leaned forward. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re wrong,” Stiles retorted, leaning in just as much. “Super wrong.”

You squeezed his hand again, pressing another quick kiss to his knuckles. He glanced at you briefly, his expression softening for a split second before he turned back to Scott with renewed determination. “Look, I’ll say it one more time for the people in the back: Batman. Always. Wins.”

Scott groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “You’re hopeless.”

“And proud of it,” Stiles said smugly, leaning back in his seat with a victorious grin.

“Scott’s got a point, though,” you chimed in casually, leaning back and resting your chin on your hand. “I mean, Superman’s speed alone is a huge advantage. He’s not exactly going to sit around and give Batman time to strategize mid-fight.”

Scott perked up immediately, a smug grin spreading across his face as he pointed at Stiles. “See? Even they agree with me. Superman wins.”

Stiles’ head snapped toward you so fast you were surprised he didn’t pull something. His eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw tightening for just a moment before he forced a laugh. “Oh, sure,” he said, his tone light but with an edge that Scott immediately caught. “Throw them into the debate. That’s fair. They’re obviously just trying to keep the peace.”

“Are they?” Scott asked, leaning back in his chair with an amused glint in his eye. He rested his elbow on the armrest and propped his chin on his hand, studying Stiles like he’d just uncovered a juicy secret. “Because it kinda sounds like they’re agreeing with me.”

Stiles scoffed, but there was a tension in his shoulders now, the way they hunched just slightly forward, like he was trying not to look too affected. “Yeah, well, that’s because you’re oversimplifying things. They probably just feel bad for you because your argument is so weak.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing between them as Scott’s grin widened. “Weak? You mean like how Superman would crush Batman in two seconds?”

Stiles’ grip on your hand tightened slightly—not enough for you to notice, but Scott definitely did. “You’re acting like Batman’s just going to walk into the fight unprepared,” Stiles shot back, his voice a touch sharper now. “That’s not how he operates. He’d have the entire battle planned out before Superman even showed up.”

Scott hummed, the teasing glint in his eyes growing brighter. “I don’t know, man. Sounds like you’re getting a little defensive. Are you sure you’re not just mad that they’re on my side?”

“I’m not mad,” Stiles said quickly, a little too quickly. He shifted in his seat, his free hand gesturing wildly. “I’m just saying, they’re allowed to be wrong. It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

You frowned, tilting your head. “You just said I was trying to keep the peace. Now I’m wrong?”

Stiles opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly trying to backtrack without looking like he was backtracking. “No, no, you’re not wrong. You’re just… misinformed.”

Scott chuckled under his breath, watching the way Stiles’ jaw clenched as he avoided looking directly at him. “Wow, Stiles. You’re really laying it on thick, huh? You okay over there?”

“I’m fine,” Stiles bit out, his voice tight. He leaned forward slightly, his thumb stroking absentmindedly over the back of your hand as if to ground himself. “I just don’t appreciate you trying to drag them into your losing argument, that’s all.”

Scott smirked, glancing at you briefly before looking back at Stiles. “Right. Sure. That’s definitely what’s bothering you.”

You blinked, glancing between them again, confused by the sudden shift in tone. “Wait, what’s bothering him?”

“Nothing,” Stiles said quickly, his voice a touch higher than usual. “Absolutely nothing. I’m just fine. Totally fine. Can we get back to the debate, please?”

Scott raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. Instead, he leaned forward again, resting his arms on his knees as he threw out another point about Superman’s strength, fully expecting Stiles to fire back.

You, oblivious to the subtle dynamic shift, chimed in again, nodding along to one of Scott’s arguments. “Yeah, that’s a good point, actually. I didn’t even think about that.”

Stiles groaned softly, his fingers tightening around yours again as his free hand gestured in frustration. “Okay, first of all, you’re supposed to be on my side,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Scott to hear.

Scott chuckled again, shaking his head. “Stiles, I think you’re fighting a losing battle here.”

Stiles shot him a glare, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Oh, I’ll win. Don’t you worry.”

Scott gave you a quick, knowing glance, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “You sure about that, buddy?”

Stiles straightened in his seat, his determination written all over his face. “Positive.”

And just like that, the argument was back in full swing, with Stiles throwing out point after point, his body language still a little tenser than usual as Scott sat back and enjoyed the show.

“Okay, okay,” Stiles said, holding up his free hand as if to call for a ceasefire, though his tone made it clear he wasn’t surrendering. “Let’s take a step back here. You’re saying Superman’s heat vision would be enough to take Batman out? Are you hearing yourself, Scott? Batman would have a countermeasure for that. Probably some Bat-reflective shield or whatever.”

Scott shrugged, an infuriatingly calm expression on his face. “It doesn’t matter what gadgets Batman has if Superman just flies him into orbit. You can’t prep for being tossed into space.”

Stiles threw his head back with an exasperated groan. “This again! Dude, he doesn’t need to be in orbit for Batman to win! Batman would—he would, I don’t know, build a space suit or something. He’s got, like, NASA-level tech at his disposal.”

“Sure,” Scott said with a smirk. “Because Batman can definitely fight in space while Superman just stands there invincible. Sounds fair.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles muttered, his tone now more incredulous than ever. He looked at you, his thumb rubbing your knuckles as though silently begging for backup. “Are you hearing this? He’s just—he’s just making stuff up now!”

You tilted your head thoughtfully. “I mean… Superman could just fly him into space. It’s a valid point.”

Stiles blinked at you, his jaw falling open slightly as if he couldn’t believe the betrayal. “Are you serious right now?”

Scott laughed, shaking his head. “I think it's called being logical, Stiles. Maybe it’s time to admit Batman’s outmatched.”

Stiles turned back to Scott, his lips pressing into a thin line as a new wave of determination flashed across his face. “I’m not admitting anything, okay? Batman would win. Superman’s just… a glorified alien Boy Scout with a god complex.”

“Wow, okay,” Scott said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of hostility for someone who’s supposed to be defending the ‘better hero.’”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Stiles shot back, his voice growing sharper with every word. “This isn’t even a real debate anymore. You’re just trying to mess with me.”

Scott leaned back, his smirk widening. “Maybe. But you’re kind of making it easy.”

That seemed to be the final straw for Stiles. He suddenly stood up, still holding your hand, his grip tightening as he glared down at Scott. “You know what? We’re done here. This debate is over. We’re leaving.”

Scott blinked up at him, his smirk faltering for just a second before he looked at you. “Wait, 'we’re' leaving?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, letting Stiles pull you toward the door. “Looks like it. Bye, Scott.”

“Bye,” Stiles added curtly, already tugging you toward the exit.

Scott leaned back in his seat, watching as Stiles practically dragged you out of the room. “You two have fun,” he called after you, the amusement clear in his voice.

Stiles didn’t respond, his steps quick and purposeful as he led you away from the argument—and, apparently, Scott’s smug grin.

Stiles practically stormed out, his steps quick and purposeful, dragging you along with him. The screen door creaked and slammed shut behind you as his sneakers hit the pavement in rapid succession. His grip on your hand was firm—almost too firm—as if Scott’s smug grin had burned itself into his brain and he was marching away from it as fast as humanly possible.

You glanced at his determined expression, biting back a smile at the sheer focus radiating off of him. “You know,” you began casually, “I think this might be the first time I don’t have to slow down to match your pace. I should be thanking Scott for this.”

Stiles threw you a sidelong glance, his lips pressing together as he groaned in frustration. “Don’t encourage him,” he muttered, his steps speeding up slightly as if to prove a point. “He’s already unbearable enough without you stroking his ego.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your fingers tightening around his for a brief moment as you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m kidding, Stiles. You know that, right?”

He slowed down—barely—but the tension in his shoulders didn’t completely ease. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he mumbled, though his furrowed brow and slightly flushed cheeks told you he wasn’t ready to let it go just yet.

“You’re still mad about Scott messing with you, huh?” you asked gently, your thumb brushing over his knuckles as you walked in step with him now.

Stiles huffed, his free hand gesturing wildly. “It’s not just that. It’s—it’s the way he does it, you know? Like he’s just waiting for me to freak out so he can sit there and laugh about it. It’s infuriating!”

You chuckled softly, leaning closer to bump your shoulder against his. “That’s because it’s so easy to rile you up. You’re fun to mess with, Stiles.”

He shot you an incredulous look, his steps faltering slightly. “Great, now you’re on his side too. Fantastic. This is just my life now, isn’t it? Stiles Stilinski: Professional Punching Bag Extraordinaire.”

You laughed again, your voice light and teasing as you leaned in closer. “Oh, stop. You know I’m always on your side.”

That earned you a small smile, though it was still tinged with the annoyance lingering in his expression. “Yeah, well, you’ve got a weird way of showing it sometimes.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand again. “I think you’re just too cute when you’re grumpy. It’s hard to resist.”

Stiles groaned, though the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you said with a grin. “But you love me anyway.”

Stiles sighed, his expression softening for a fleeting second as he mumbled, “Yeah, I love you anyway.” But then, as if the thought had struck him like lightning, he suddenly halted in his tracks. His hand jerked yours to a stop too, and he turned to you with a mix of betrayal and disbelief etched across his face.

“Wait a second,” he stammered, his words tripping over each other in his rush to get them out. “No, no, no, this is your fault too! You—you agreed with him! You’re supposed to be on my side! You can't just manipulate your way out of this with warm kisses and your love!”

You blinked at him innocently, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “I am on your side, Stiles.”

“No!” he shot back, his hand waving in the air for emphasis. “Rule three! Rule three of the Boyfriend Code! ‘Thou shalt never, under any circumstances, team up with Scott against thy boyfriend in any and all debates, disputes, or Nerf wars.’” He pointed at you accusingly. “And you broke the Code! Again!”

“Again?” you echoed, feigning confusion.

“Yes, again!” he huffed, his voice pitching higher as his frustration mounted. “First, it was the curly fry incident—rule one!—and then you didn’t laugh at my jokes, which, might I add, was rule two! But this? This is serious!”

You tilted your head, your lips twitching as you tried not to laugh at how worked up he was getting. “Serious? It’s a fictional debate about Batman and Superman.”

“It’s not just about Batman and Superman!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly as his gesturing grew even more frantic. “It’s about principle! You’re supposed to back me up, no matter what! That’s—that’s literally the point of the code! You—” He stopped mid-sentence, his cheeks flushing as he realized how desperate he sounded. “I mean, you’re supposed to—ugh." He groaned loudly as he ran his hands through his hair and down his face, "I don’t even know why I bother sometimes.”

He crossed his arms, looking away from you with a pout that would’ve been adorable if he wasn’t so clearly annoyed.

You couldn’t hold it in any longer and started laughing, stepping closer to tug on his arm gently. “Stiles, come on. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not being ridiculous!” he argued, though his resolve seemed to waver slightly under your amused gaze. “You broke the rules—again! And now Scott’s gonna think he’s right, and—and I’m just standing there like an idiot while you’re practically high-fiving him!”

You cupped his face, forcing him to look at you as you smiled softly. “I didn’t high-five him.”

“You might as well have,” he grumbled, his pout still firmly in place.

You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, which seemed to short-circuit whatever angry retort he was about to throw at you. “I’m sorry, okay?” you murmured against his mouth. “I’ll never break the code again. Scouts honor.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously but didn’t pull away. “You said that after the curly fry thing.”

“And I meant it,” you replied with a grin, “Until I didn’t.”

His lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but he quickly schooled his expression into something resembling sternness. “You’re lucky I love you,” he muttered, though his tone lacked any real bite.

“I know,” you teased, lacing your fingers with his again and giving his hand a playful tug. “Now come on, let’s keep walking before Scott comes out here to gloat.”

That seemed to snap him out of his sulking, and he let you pull him along, though he made sure to grumble under his breath about broken rules and betrayal the entire way.

Stiles continued grumbling as the two of you walked, his free hand gesturing wildly as he replayed every perceived injustice from the past hour. “And another thing,” he muttered, his voice dripping with exasperation. “Scott doesn’t even read the comics. He watches the movies and acts like he’s some kind of expert. I mean, did you hear him try to say Superman’s heat vision could—”

“—melt the Batmobile’s armor,” you cut in, your tone casual but laced with amusement. “Yeah, I heard him. And I also heard you shut that down by explaining how Bruce Wayne uses tech from alien materials that can withstand literal explosions. You were right. Totally right.”

Stiles blinked, mid-step, like your words had knocked the wind out of him. “Wait—what?”

You kept walking, tugging him along when he faltered. “I mean, c’mon, Stiles. You’re basically an encyclopaedia of Batman knowledge. You broke down Superman’s vulnerabilities better than anyone could. Kryptonite’s obvious, but that whole thing about using red solar radiation to neutralize his powers? Genius. And don’t even get me started on how you explained the contingency plans Batman’s got for literally everyone. It was a slam dunk. You won the argument before it even started.”

He stared at you, slack-jawed, while his feet moved automatically to keep up. “You… you think I won?”

“I know you won,” you replied easily, glancing over your shoulder to give him a reassuring smile. “Scott was just being loud to make it seem like he had a point, but you had him beat from the first sentence.”

You kissed the back of his hand softly, once, twice, three times, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “And for the record, I’ve always sided with you and Batman. Superman’s overrated.”

Stiles stopped walking completely this time, tugging you to a halt with him as he turned to look at you with wide, stunned eyes. “But you—you said—”

“I said Scott had a valid point,” you interrupted, a small smirk pulling at your lips. “I never said it was better than yours. I just wanted to keep things interesting.”

He squinted at you, trying to figure out if you were messing with him, but the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed his embarrassment. “You’re evil,” he muttered, his voice softer now, almost like he was sulking.

“I prefer the term engaging,” you teased, leaning in to press another kiss to the back of his hand. “And I’m on your side, Stiles. Always.”

His lips twitched, fighting a smile as he let you tug him forward again, his grumbling finally starting to fade. “You’re really lucky I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a grin. “I do.”

Stiles was walking a little taller now, puffing his chest out ever so slightly as his free hand adjusted an imaginary tie. “Well, of course, you always side with Batman,” he mumbled half to himself, clearly pleased. “I mean, it’s a good thing I convinced you to read my entire comic book collection when we first started dating. Otherwise, you’d—”

“You convinced me?” you interrupted, eyebrows raised as you turned to look at him. “Stiles, I had to pry them from your hands. You didn’t want me to touch them because they were ‘collector’s items.’ You were practically shaking in fear that I’d ruin them.”

His steps faltered, and the flush creeping up his cheeks was immediate. “Okay, well—yeah, but that’s only because you’re not supposed to touch them without gloves! Or bend the pages! Or, I don’t know, breathe too hard near the first edition ones!”

You laughed, squeezing his hand as you leaned closer. “Sure, Stiles. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but then his expression softened as a faint, wistful smile tugged at his lips. “For the record,” he said, glancing at you shyly, “I fell in love with you all over again watching you read them.”

Your teasing grin faltered slightly at the sincerity in his voice, and you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. “You’d sit there, all curled up on my bed with one of my comics, so focused you didn’t even notice me staring half the time. And then when you did notice, you’d ask me these questions about the plot or the characters, and I’d—” He paused, his ears turning red as he looked down. “I’d stay up all night researching just so I could give you the perfect answer.”

Your heart clenched, and you stopped walking for a moment, tugging him gently so he turned to face you. “You really did that?”

Stiles shrugged, looking sheepish. “I mean… yeah. I didn’t want to mess it up. You were taking an interest in something I loved, and I didn’t want to blow it by giving you half-assed answers.”

The words hung between you for a moment, raw and unguarded, and for a second, it felt like the world had gone quiet. His gaze flicked to yours, and you could see it—how exposed he felt, how the vulnerability of the confession lingered in the air, matching your own.

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t, not when your heart was stumbling over itself, not when it felt like anything you could say would fall short. Instead, you tugged him closer, your hands finding his shoulders as you leaned up to kiss him.

It was soft and warm, a gentle reassurance that you didn’t need to hear any more to know exactly what he meant. When you pulled back, there was a slight tilt to your head, a teasing smile tugging at your lips that eased the moment just enough.

Stiles blinked, wide-eyed and flushed, before the words started pouring out of him at warp speed. “Okay, right, um—let’s go home. Like, now. It’s too cold out here anyway, and I don’t know why I thought storming off like that was a good idea because, clearly, it wasn’t. I’m freezing, and you’re freezing—oh, my God, are you freezing? You must be freezing. And I—I regret this. I regret all of this.”

You smiled, biting back a laugh as he gestured animatedly with his free hand.

“And when we get back,” he continued, his voice climbing an octave, “You’re reading another comic with me. No arguments. This one’s even better than the last, and—and you’re gonna love it. I’ll even get you snacks! Blanket burritos! Whatever you want, okay? Just—let’s start moving again. Please.”

“Okay,” you said simply, the warmth in your smile making his frantic rambling come to a screeching halt.

“Okay?” he repeated, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“Okay,” you confirmed, squeezing his hand. “But only if you promise to let me pick the snacks this time.”

“Deal,” he said immediately, tugging you forward again, the faint flush on his cheeks deepening as he mumbled, “God, you’re cute when you do that head tilt thing.”

You grinned, letting him lead the way as the two of you hurried toward home, warmth blooming between you despite the chill in the air.

[lv9su]

Can you explain Chaos Control Quirk from your MHA x Sonic! Reader more in detail?

Hiiiiiiii!! I’ve had such bad writers block but now I’m working on part 4 now!!

Here’s a detailed breakdown of her powers:

Chaos Control: Like Shadow, Y/N can manipulate time and space using Chaos Energy. This ability allows her to teleport, making her incredibly agile in battle and enabling her to escape or reposition quickly.

Enhanced Speed and Agility: Y/N possesses superhuman speed and agility, allowing her to move faster than the eye can follow. This speed gives her an edge in combat, letting her dodge attacks and strike before opponents can react.

Chaos Blast: She can unleash a powerful energy attack called a Chaos Blast, which releases a wave of energy from her body. This attack can cause significant damage to her surroundings and is effective against multiple foes. A lot of the time it can just be from general power or pent up energy, meaning she trains majority of her free time to release it. Also why she wears limiter rings.

Flight: Y/N has the ability to fly and glide using Chaos Energy, giving her an aerial advantage in battles and allowing her to maneuver around obstacles effortlessly. But to help her control it she uses the air gliders, the gliders are adjusted to her chaos control, meaning they go at the same speed she is and don’t break or disfunction.

Emotion-Driven Power: Y/N's powers can be influenced by her emotions, particularly her feelings of loss and determination after the death of her friend Sonic, she also gets sad about yoishi but she didn’t know him as long and as well as she knew sonic. This emotional drive can enhance her abilities, making her more powerful in critical moments.

Chaos Spears: sharp energy projectiles she can generate and launch at her enemies with precision. These spears can pierce through obstacles and opponents, adding a ranged attack option to her impressive set of abilities😉. With Chaos Spears at her disposal, Y/N becomes even more versatile in combat scenarios, combining both close-quarters combat and long-range attacks to outmaneuver her foes.

Her background of being raised in a science lab gives her a unique perspective and intelligence, enabling her to strategize effectively in combat. The bond she shared with Sonic adds depth to her character, motivating her to fight for justice and protect others from similar fates!!

Lmk if you have any more questions

💘💘

[judgemark45]

The U.S. Navy's Seawolf-class submarines are among the most advanced and powerful submarines in the world. Here are some key features and capabilities that make them so powerful:

Stealth

- Quietness: Seawolf-class submarines are designed to be extremely quiet, making them difficult to detect by enemy sonar. They have advanced sound-absorbing materials and hull design, which significantly reduce their acoustic signature.

- Anechoic Coating: They are covered with anechoic tiles that absorb sound waves, reducing the noise they emit and improving their stealth capabilities.

Speed and Depth

- Speed: These submarines are capable of reaching speeds in excess of 35 knots (about 40 mph or 65 km/h) when submerged.

- Operating Depth: Seawolf-class submarines can operate at depths greater than 1,600 feet (approximately 490 meters), allowing them to evade detection and operate in deeper waters than many other submarines.

Armament

- Torpedoes: Each Seawolf-class submarine is equipped with eight 660mm (26-inch) torpedo tubes, which can launch a variety of torpedoes, including the advanced Mk-48 ADCAP (Advanced Capability) torpedoes.

- Missiles: They can also carry up to 50 Tomahawk cruise missiles, which are capable of striking land targets with high precision from a great distance.

- Mines: The submarines can deploy mines for area denial and strategic control of waterways.

Sensor and Combat Systems

- Sonar Systems: The Seawolf-class features advanced sonar systems, including bow, flank, and towed-array sonars, which provide comprehensive detection and tracking capabilities.

- Combat Systems: They are equipped with the AN/BSY-2 combat system, which integrates all sensors, fire control, and weapons systems, allowing for rapid and effective response to threats.

Survivability and Endurance

- Robust Construction: The hull is made of HY-100 steel, which provides greater strength and durability, enhancing survivability.

- Endurance: These submarines can operate submerged for extended periods, limited only by food supply, due to their nuclear propulsion system.

Versatility

- Multi-Mission Capability: Seawolf-class submarines are capable of performing a wide range of missions, including anti-submarine warfare (ASW), anti-surface warfare (ASUW), intelligence gathering, special operations support, and strike warfare.

Summary

Overall, the Seawolf-class submarines are among the most formidable submarines in the world, combining stealth, speed, firepower, and advanced technology. Their ability to operate in various environments and perform diverse missions makes them a critical asset to the U.S. Navy's undersea warfare capabilities.

[hexheathen]

The Unknown Biology: Part 1 (Dead by Daylight)

Hello! I have done biology stuff in the past on my theories of how the unknown is made up, so I might as well share! I will start with just him, and then we will talk about UVX next! :> This is just for fun, I am not a science professor and this is all theory!

The Biology of The Unknown: A Multi-Host Parasitic Entity

The Unknown from Dead by Daylight exhibits traits consistent with an obligate multi-host pathogen or parasite, hijacking the biological functions of its hosts to sustain itself. Its physiology suggests a reliance on host cells for both sustenance and structure, using neurotoxins similar to UVX to influence neurotransmitters within its prey. This parasitic nature allows it to maintain multiple forms simultaneously, integrating the biological material of consumed victims into its own ever-changing anatomy.

Decomposition & Cellular Function

The Unknown’s ability to persist over time suggests that its body decomposes at a slower rate than that of normal human remains. This delayed decomposition is likely due to its cold body temperature, which inhibits bacterial activity and cellular breakdown. However, despite this slowed decay, its tissues do degrade over time, necessitating periodic consumption of fresh biomass.

While it appears that the Unknown has a circulatory system of some sort, the fluid moving through it does not carry oxygen to living cells; rather, it seems to serve as a medium for preserving necrotic tissue. The Unknown sustains itself by digesting bodies and breaking them down into stem cells, which it then repurposes to maintain and reconstruct its own form. The parasitic entity functions as a central nervous system, controlling this process and dictating the distribution of new tissue. Since the cells maintain the genetic markers of the original host, the Unknown is able to exploit this genetic code to mimic and maintain humanoid structures. However, because its body still deteriorates over time, it must refresh its cellular composition every few months.

Growth & Expansion: The Process of Biomass Integration

The Unknown’s size and physical adaptations are directly correlated to the amount of biological material it has consumed. As an obligate multi-host parasite, it integrates the tissues of its victims into its own form, but this process is more than simple expansion—it involves an instinctive redistribution of mass based on structural necessity.

Stages of Growth

Consumption & Digestion – The Unknown envelops a body, breaking down muscle, skin, and bone into a more usable form. It prioritizes nervous tissue and marrow-rich bones to extract viable stem cells.

Stem Cell Repurposing – The parasitic core reconfigures absorbed cells into functional tissue, maintaining the host’s genetic structure while allowing for modifications.

Integration into the Core – The newly generated tissue is distributed strategically, reinforcing critical areas and expanding the Unknown’s form as needed. The parasite’s central intelligence determines how and where the new mass is allocated.

Forms of Expansion

The Unknown’s expansion is not uniform; rather, it adapts to its immediate needs, shifting mass accordingly:

Reinforcement & Density – For increased strength, it condenses its form, enhancing muscle mass and bone density. This allows for powerful bursts of force at the cost of flexibility.

Intimidation & Presence – When seeking to terrorize prey, it elongates its limbs and distorts its features, creating an unsettling, towering figure.

Pursuit & Dexterity – In high-speed scenarios, it redistributes mass into elongated, reinforced limbs to enhance agility, creating jerky, unnatural movements that resemble multiple entities moving in tandem.

Adaptation & Regeneration – In moments of injury, it reallocates internal tissue to reinforce damaged areas. However, this process consumes its stored biomass and requires replenishment over time.

Limitations of Expansion

Despite its ability to grow and reshape itself, the Unknown is limited by the total mass it possesses. It cannot shrink beyond the minimum biomass required to sustain its parasitic core. In extreme cases, it can forcibly compact itself, withdrawing mass into its core structure. This is an emergency measure that leaves it vulnerable, as seen in the rare instance where it was temporarily forced into a pasta sauce jar—an event it has not allowed to occur again. (this is a silly thing that happened in RP not cannon)

Decomposition & The Need for Sustenance

Even though the Unknown can manipulate its physical form, its cellular composition remains in a necrotic or barely functional state. While its cold body temperature slows decomposition, it cannot fully prevent it. Over time, tissue breakdown accelerates, requiring the absorption of fresh biomass.

If the Unknown goes too long without consuming new hosts, its tissues begin to degrade. In such cases, it must shed rotting mass, causing it to shrink. This ongoing cycle of consumption, expansion, and decomposition ensures that the Unknown remains an ever-hungry predator, constantly seeking new bodies to maintain its stolen existence.

Conclusion

The Unknown is a parasitic entity driven by an unrelenting biological imperative: survival through assimilation. Its ability to manipulate biomass, alter its form, and sustain itself through host consumption makes it one of the most terrifying manifestations within the Fog. Bound by the laws of decomposition and biological necessity, it must constantly seek new victims to maintain its presence, ensuring its place as a relentless force of horror in the fog.

[lover-of-skellies]

Sans Fight Night - Round 5

Fight location: an empty AU. Think classic undertale, but completely empty. There's no one around, and our contestants can go ham without any consequences

Contestant 1: Fresh

Strengths: Has no emotions (therefore he can't possibly lose control of them), speed and teleportation, potentially makes portals, can sort of conjure up physical items to fight with, great at being a distraction, can still use skeleton magic, even if his body is destroyed, he'll survive (provided he finds a new host fast), highly unpredictable and hard to read, can fight from pretty much any distance

Weaknesses: Doesn't appear to take many things seriously, is vulnerable as soon as he (the parasite) is removed from the host body

Contestant 2: Epic

Strengths: Magic/teleportation, more intelligent than he appears at times, speed, can appear as clones/duplicates/copies, and I saw someone say that he functions like a Looney Tunes character. Normal logic simply Does Not Apply to him

Weaknesses: N/A

Note: My knowledge here is very limited. I've seen maybe a few pages of the Epictale comic and that was AGES ago, so I don't really remember it. Aside from that, the only other depiction of him I've seen was in Underverse, and even then, I don't remember much of what he did there

As always, propaganda is welcome and encouraged! If you have some information that you think could help one of these guys win (or lose), feel free to reblog this post and include it!

*EPIC PROPAGANDA HERE

[the-elemental-heros]

”intro post.”

”hello hello! We are the greatest hero’s on earth and in hell! My name is mike, this is my partner, Lumi.” “Hai!” “and this is red light!” “Sup.” “If you wanna be a member I’d be happy to accept!”

PLEASE READ: if you are an ask blog that interacted with any of the members before erase those from the characters memory and history because if they don’t know who mike or Lumi is it will play into the story of these characters

(This is a rp blog for the elemental hero group and this was supposed to just be mike/phoenix and Lumi but it changed into something bit bigger)

(Drawings of each member coming soon)

Mikes powers: super strength, super speed, super hearing, black acid control, fire and lava control, can make weapons and everyday things out of black acid or lava or fire, teleportation, self-liquidation, shape shifting, can morph his body parts to form weapons, amazing with weapons combat, amazing with hand to hand combat, flight, obviously extremely durable because he’s fucking liquid, fire and lava creation and obvious manipulation, limited aura creation (he can make a firey aura around him) can make fire, lava, or black acid clones, laser eyes, obvious regeneration, he can make portals, he can self detonate creating a explosion of fire.

Lumis powers: super strength, same level as mike, super speed (slightly slower then mike), can make weapons and everyday things out of water and ice, can “fly” by spawning ice or water under her as she surfs it through the air, durability, super hearing, can talk to under water creatures, limb morphing (like mike), regeneration.

red lights powers: can change colors of lights (usually changes it to red), light manipulation, light creation, good at weaponry combat, super strength (weaker then mike), super speed (weaker then Lumi), limited aura creation (can make a red aura around her), can make light clones, impenetrable skin, infinite ammunition. Treikos powers: impenetrable skin, super strength, super agility, super reflexes, blood bending, best at weaponry combat, super adaptability, regeneration healing factor, teleportation, X-ray vision, enhanced vocal cords, super hearing, super durability.

Mikes boiling point extra powers and physical changes: can make his voice very loud, to the point of deafening, grows a pair of spider legs with 8 on each side, his powers just get buffed, grows a bit bigger going from 8’11 to 12’8ft tall, grows deploy and concealable blades under his wrist bandages that are about 10-13 inches at full length, lava spit.

random facts about mike!:

🔥: he is a LEE, death spot is his underarms. He has a very “EEK”y laugh.

🔥: He is a psychopath who loves to make people, suffer and he murders people. He is only saving people and acting like a hero because he likes being regarded as a god by some people and hero by most… most. 🔥: He died at 4 when being kidnapped and he was shot 78 times in the limbs, torso, stomach, you name it, he was only alive because they kept giving him adrenaline so he would stay alive and he died at the last headshot. 🔥: Kills because he views and thinks everyone is as bad as the 2 kidnappers who killed him, sometimes he has moments where he snaps outta that but it doesn’t last for long. 🔥: Is very rude, scary, and intimidating when angry or just being normal. 🔥: Obviously can’t die, I mean you can kill him but he will just come back after like a day. Same thing with everyone else. 🔥: Is very intelligent.. just his arrogance and confidence can cloud that at times. Speaking of confidence and arrogance he views himself as a god and looks down at normal humans like insects. 🔥: He’s very inspired by homelander, this whole thing is inspired by the boys and the seven. 🔥: is an art the clown level of brutality sometimes. 🔥: Basically a mix between homelander and the T-1000. 🔥: he is 31.

🔥: idk if I mentioned this before but his true self isn’t actually a psycho, yes he will kill murderers, arsonists, the ones doing atrocities. But he won’t seriously maim like smaller crimes like theft or stuff like that. His true self is actually a good person and caring, he is aware of his psycho side and his psycho side is aware of him. he didn’t want this killing to happen.

🔥: he has a brother only few know about. Treiko and cetchro know about this, his name is Nolan. They never told him because a few reason but the main one is because they know that if he finds out they kept this from him, they are dead.

things that can make phoenix come out:

Being tickled

being Shown affection

psycho self using powers to make him visible

Being surprised with something very odd (like a cat speaking-)

being reminded of his family

being shot (will kill you for this)

being injected with adrenaline or tranquilizers (will kill you for this)

being stabbed in the side of the head/ear (he can make body parts grow at will cuz liquid) (will kill you for this)

he can sometimes just come out on himself

random facts about Lumi!:

❄️: big lee, HUGE LEE. Most ticklish spots are belly, feet, back of knees, and neck.

❄️: even though her and red light are sweet and caring, like phoenix, they will kill criminals who have done very horrible things. And also like phoenix, they will hurt criminals who do smaller crimes like theft or stuff like that but not kill.

❄️: Is trying to make phoenix come out for good.. but Micheal is becoming more resistant by the second.

❄️: will protect people from Micheal if she can.

❄️: snuggle bug.

❄️: she is 24.

❄️: Favorite food: rotisserie chicken.

❄️: Likes being pet.

❄️: As you actually know, she cares about others greatly and is very sweet.. she is still a badass at times though.

❄️: likes to loaf from time to time. ❄️: died from being run over by a train.

(Facts about red light and treiko coming later.)

RULES:

NO NSFW! Suggestive asks are fine tho (I updated everyone’s age cuz I realized the age stuff had flaws-)

offensive jokes of any kinda are fine, racist jokes, phobe jokes, etc.

DO NOT try to fight these people if you cannot handle your characters being killed… you can just bring them back to life in a different post anyway lol.

don’t be rude to the mod, I’m fine with you taking joking shots at me but don’t be actually a asshole.

swearing is allowed, I’ll allow the word retard but don’t say a slur that you can’t reclaim (I think that’s the word).

don’t go into a fight with them and expect to win, I’ve already had one dude throw a fit about it, I don’t want it again.

This isn’t just a FPE blog it could go in really any fandom.

COOL BLOGS!:

@abbie-appleboy @engels-ask-blog @zip-the-chaos-child @girl-from-the-snowy-forest @lesbian-zipster @oliversoapeater-official @claireslibrarycard

@danger-bloomie @danger-oliverrr @danger-abbie @danger-zipster

@askmyfpeocs @ask-april-stuff-ig @official-crazie

@mister-hotchkiss-craft-teacher @best-art-teacher-miss-sasha @pansexual-music-teacher @cannibalistic-forest-monster @math-teacher-who-loves-oreos @ask-mister-barrel @ask-miller @ask-margaret-sterling

(Sorry if @s don’t work or I forgot you, did the best I could.)

Story: a corrupt super hero group with members who are regarded as hero’s and gods are under control by a powerful demon consumed by revenge, only select fews knew and know about the truth and that the leader is just putting up a facade… most ended up dead, but the ones who know and that are alive are trying to get that info out, yet, no one believes them.

(Mod talking)

“Micheal talking”

“Phoenix talking”

“Lumi talking”

“Red light talking”

“Treiko talking”

Edit: two people have already forgotten the “please read”- I’m not angry btw

[itsabouttimex2]

Can you do escape attempt headcanons with the bullfam?? I’ve been reading your headcanons lately n they’re literally so good 😭😭!!

Bullfam

Escape Attempt Headcanons

Out of this powerful trio, I think Red Son would notice the soonest that you’ve gone out of bounds. With how likely it is that you’re wearing a collar (of his own design) with the sigil of the Bull Clan emblazoned on it, it’s very probable that he has a tracking device on you. Even if you don’t have a collar, there’s always bracelets, phones, shoes… plenty of places to snap an unassuming tracker.

So if you somehow do manage to escape, your foray back into the familiar streets of Megapolis is bound to be cut short in record time.

Red corners you as by sharply rounding the curve of an alleyway, slamming into you hard. As you stumble and fall, the prince snatches a wrist or leg (whatever’s easier) and pulls until he’s dragged you roughly across half the concrete-paved block. After your whimpers and begging turn to pained screams, the half-taurine demon blazes up a runic portal and tosses you in.

Jumping in mere seconds after, Red Son surveys the scene before that unfurls before him.

You lay curled up on the plush purple carpet sobbing into your hand as blood oozes slowly down the road rash torn across your back.

As it always does, a cold regret seeps slowly through his veins at the sight of your suffering.

Red Son hasn’t come to realize something very important to him yet- he hates hurting you.

The prince explodes in a fit of fiery wrath, lashes out, hurts you- then stews in remorse and self-anger. An uncontrollable and ever-raging wildfire that torches even that which is dearest to him.

This is the part of himself he hates the most.

The part he can’t stop from hurting you.

Damage control is the most he can manage after these little fits.

“…come on, Y/N. I’ll get the bandages.”

Oh, boy. Absolutely not. I mean, you can try. Really, feel free. Go for it.

What’s a few broken bones or bloody gashes in return for a brief glance of sunlight? For a singular breath of fresh air?

Okay, so the Demon Bull King isn’t exactly itching to hurt you. You wouldn’t be locked up inside his foundry like a fragile antique if he just wanted to grind you into a bloody smear on the concrete (that’s his son’s job) or pop you like a swollen tick. If he’s got you bolted into a nice little guest room with a Bull Clone, it because this big lumbering warlord actually and honestly cares about you.

Probably, the king sees you as a sort of “youngest child” naive and soft and so very malleable.

So the aspect of “protecting what is his” applies very strongly as the taurine demon catches sight of you fleeing, mild yellow eyes narrowing into glowing pools of fury.

This man is fast- we’ve seen it in canon. Also, his “on all fours” run?? Seeing that coming right at you, clearing miles in literal seconds??

You give up, hit the ground, and go still- if only because you’re entirely unsure of whether or not he’d actually be willing to actual physical contact at such high speeds and atomize the lower half of your body.

Instead, you allow him to corner your cowering form, not struggling as two clawed fingers pluck you off the ground. He’s too angry to even speak- and instead just fold his powerful claws around you, and the begins to stomp home.

You’ve earned yourself a custom-made metal shackle, to be worn through all through the day and night, paired with reduced rations and limited access to water.

But at least he hasn’t harmed you.

Yeah, okay. From everything we’ve seen, Princess Iron Fan is basically… unflappable and unstoppable? I can’t actually remember her directly losing a fight outside of the Sworn Brotherhood when they had the ink scroll. She’s powerful, intelligent, patient… I can’t imagine many ways to truly “get one over on her”.

An enchantment on your nape that prevents travel past a certain area. A magical tracking device planted under your skin. Cursed jewelry that tightens when you disobey. Mystical statues with strange eyes that track your every movement and spring to life when you make for the door.

It’s not happening.

You can try- Iron Fan doesn’t intervene with your escape attempts. You’re bound to fail one way or the other. Why should she waste her energy when your efforts are worthless to begin with?

At least watching your desperate struggles and harebrained schemes puts her in good mood- there’s something about your frustrated tears that she finds all too cute.

[tohwitchesduels]

REQUEST BATTLES OF WITCHES DUELS - Battle 45: Willow Park vs Gus Porter

Disclaimer: This is not a popularity contest or which character you prefer, in this tournament, you decide who is stronger/better/smarter/etc. opponent.

information for both opponents under the cut to those who don't know what they can do in their battle:

Since both have quite huge profiles, I won't be getting into specifics, just motivations and I will link to their profiles in their names.

Willow Park:

Willow Park is a prodigy in plant magic. Only a few can match her talent and raw power when it comes to her command over plant life. She's also very knowledgeable when it comes to Botanics and is very promising when it comes to them (she knows how to tame various plants and what are they capable of). However, her capabilities only extend to plant magic and not other types of magic.

Willow Park is also very strong, athletic, and sporty. She's the Captain of Flyer Derby Emeral Entrails and managed to defeat the captain of Grudgby team Boscha while playing Grudgby for the first time. It is known that Willow works out and shows a lot of physical strength. The girl knows how to pack a punch.

Willow and Gus are best friends and are always there for each other. Willow has to admit she actually doesn't like the idea of fighting him out of sheer worry that Gus could potentially get hurt with how rough she plays. However, Gus reassured her he would be fine so Willow is doing her best not necessarily because she wants to defeat him but out of respect for him and his efforts.

Willow possesses a palisman and is quite capable when it comes to staff wielding. Also as captain of flyer derby, she's a very proficient and quite skilled flyer. Being capable of flying traditionally and switching midair to surfing. She is also capable of using her staff to enhance her already very potent magic.

Willow's magic is enhanced by her emotional state. If she's confident in herself she's most in control, however, if she's bottling up her feelings or feeling insecure, her magic can turn against her. Her magic also gets stronger once she uses anger and determination to power it.

Gus Porter:

Gus Porter is a prodigy when it comes to illusion magic. Prodigious enough to skip a few grades and even defeat the coven head of illusions with his sheer raw power. Gus displays insane potential and a big imagination when it comes to his magic. Now his powers are still limited by his own imagination and creativity meaning his illusions for the most part can be used mostly for deception and distraction, but during this tournament, Gus finally revised his own skill to find even offensive capabilities of his powers. While Gus did display the willingness to study other tracks, he ultimately never did due to his reassurance in being a master illusionist how easy it comes to him, and how much he can do with illusions alone.

One must know how intelligent Gus is during his battles. He can easily fool and toy with his opponents thanks to his illusions and Gus is also not afraid to either mock or straight-up torture his enemies during his battle just to get the results he needs, and has more than enough raw power to pull his schemes to their fullest. It's worth noting that when Gus feels extreme emotions, his magic only gets amplified, however, the side effects could be that Gus actually loses control over his own powers and gets to be the victim of them too, though thankfully to the magical amplifier from Graye, the risk of that is lesser.

Gus does possess a Palisman and is known to be an utter speed demon. Gus doesn't fly in a traditional sense like most other competitors due, to preferring to surf in the air, but this only further allows him to still cast spells while midair, which mixed with his capacity to trick his opponents more dangerous. It's hard to tell however how good he is in combat with his staff, but it appears he knows how to battle with it if he still used it as a means to fight in LR when briefly facing Hunter.

One of the artifacts I allow Gus to have independently regarding whether or not his opponent also has any supportive gear is the looking glass earring he got after he defeated Adrian. The magical amplifier allows Gus to further concentrate his raw power into specific abilities he has a hard time pulling on his own and even enhancing them in the process, growing more powerful.

Gus and Willow are best friends. Gus wanted to battle his friends in the finals though both Luz and Amity beat him to the race so he requested for both Hunter and Willow to battle him outside of the tournament. Willow was not really confident about this battle as while she respects Gus, she used to protect him for the longest time and now she feels kind of bad to have to duel with him, but Gus reassures her it's alright. After all, he knows what he's about and he can survive (Hunter wouldn't entirely agree with it) so Willow respected Gus's wishes. There is no bad blood, just a friendly duel, it will be alright! Hopefully

Return to Masterpost

[leaderpinhead]

Leona - The Lion's Den

Prompt: Breath (TwstOber) & Nap (Blotober) I found this in my files unedited, so I don't think I ever actually uploaded it. If I did...I guess you guys just get another round of LeonaxYuu anyway. You're welcome :P

“And here we have the rare, but lazy, Prince of the Savanna.” 

The audible click of a camera shutter made Leona’s ear twitch. He kept his breathing even in a feigned image of sleep. He heard the plastic siding of his tent rustle, and a slight breeze funneled through his previously insulated shelter. Another shutter click made his ear twitch again. 

“This species is known to average around twenty-three hours of sleep per day.” Leona had enough practice with Cheka interrupting his naps to keep his expression under control. Only one corner of his lip twitched upwards. “Researchers have yet to discover this fascinating lack of self-preservation, but theories have circulated the community. The popular one being an inflated ego paired with piles of thaumarks.” 

Another shutter click made Leona’s tail flick. His eyes may have remained closed, but his spatial awareness flared the moment the prefect crept into his tent. The tent crinkled under her precise movements. He wondered how much film her ghost camera held as she snapped another picture. 

“Despite this lazy species contributing little to nothing to the community, documentation of him is wildly popular to the population of female preteen and older. Multiple marriage proposals have been thrown at this lazy good-for-nothing with only minimum success. What is the gatekeeper to this wild beast’s heart? This documentarian is sad to say that the ladies may forever stay heartbroken as the answer to that question has yet to be found.” 

A loud crinkle of the tent floor behind his shoulders signaled the time to strike. He twisted his torso with a speed and dexterity Yuu clearly hadn’t anticipated from her expression of startled dismay. It was easy for him to wrap one arm around her waist and haul her over his hip to land with a startled squeak against the back of the tent. He anchored her legs with his own to limit her method of attack in that area. His other arm snaked around her shoulders, and his fingers tangled with her hair when he cupped the back of her head and shoved her face against his collarbone. 

Yuu’s attempts to squirm away from him were met with a husky chuckle. “Your research is lacking, princess.” 

Yuu huffed into the collar of his outdoor jacket. “I think I've done a very good job.” 

“Lazy is a poor descriptor.” Leona curled around her the more she attempted to squirm from his grasp. He smirked at the pained grunt he received as he effectively maneuvered her into the position of a living body pillow. “Intellectual is a better word. Intelligent, handsome, powerful—.” 

“Lazy, average, egotistical,” she snapped back. Her arm wiggled free from his hold and attempted to reach for the camera that went flying from her grasp when he had snared her. “Lemme up! I have an important job of documenting to do.” 

Leona hummed and loosened his grip as if to let her go free. Her squeak of indignation was all the more amusing when he tightened his grip just shy of her reaching her ghost camera. “And you call me egotistical?” 

“It’s not egotistical if you’re doing a job assigned to you!” 

“But important?” He chuckled again when she clawed at his shirt with her blunted nails. “Last I checked, this camp was set up for the sports team. Not little herbivores running around with a camera.” 

“Just wait until I get free! I’m going to bust out some moves you never dreamed an herbivore could do!” 

His humming laugh shifted into a large yawn. Yuu protested when he rolled more on top of her. “I thought as a documentarian you’d be interested in documenting what was previously a mystery.” 

“And what exactly is that?” 

“The gatekeeper to a wild beast’s heart.” 

Yuu paused in her struggling. Leona smirked at the silence, and his eyes drifted shut once more. Sadly, the silence didn’t last. “Suppose I was interested. For record keeping sake. And totally not to give the girls at Mourning Dove Institute new material on Magicam to leave me alone for a week.” 

Leona’s smirk widened. “So that's why you were sneaking in to take pictures? I almost feel violated.” 

“I am a self-proclaimed documentarian! All of my research is done for the greater good.” 

“I said almost. So you want to know the way to my heart, kitten?” 

“This is getting awkward now.” 

Leona swallowed a chuckle. He leaned down over her head to whisper into her ear. “The key to my heart—” 

“Could you not make this more awkward?” 

“—is a good body pillow.” 

Leona reveled in the moment Yuu realized she had truly become his prey. Her hand shot out to the tent’s wall as she frantically beat against it. “Ruggie! Save me!” 

Ruggie snorted from outside the tent. “You’re kidding me, right? I told you to leave him alone.” 

“Epel!” 

“Sorry, princess. I sent him off to gather more wood. He’ll be gone for a good hour now. Shyeheeheehee.”  

Leona matched the hyena’s snickers with a dark chuckle of his own. “You should know better by now than to sneak into a lion’s den.” 

“You just wait until you fall asleep. We’ll see who regrets what then.” 

Leona emitted a hum of disbelief and nuzzled his face into the top of Yuu’s head. They had barely made camp but she already smelled like the woods: the airy scent of the pine trees with an undertone of smoke from the campfires. He balanced his chin on the top of her head and settled in for a nice, long nap. 

...which never actually came thanks to his victim’s constant squirming and huffing, so he unceremoniously threw her out of the tent. Without her camera as his single act of petty revenge.