#telepathy and telekinesis

[vertigoartgore]

Jean Grey/Marvel Girl commission by artist Dennis Menheere (2024).

[rayven-ray]

> Looks right into your thoughts :0

[nejensworld]

Jean Grey Summers - Phoenix Concept- Fire made Flesh! Artwork /concepts by: Nejen Shy (ME)

[yak-leather-whips]

I realize this is the nerdiest pet peeve ever, but I get so weird about people mixing up telepathy and telekinesis.

Like, I’m a big ole etymology nerd, so the difference seems super clear to me, but just in case anyone doesn’t know:

Telepathy: ability to psychically connect to the minds of others, from the greek pathos, for emotion or feeling

Telekinesis: ability to move shit with your brain, from the greek kinesis for movement

This has been a PSA from your friendly neighborhood autism creature begging everyone to stop saying “telepathically levitated”

[racefortheironthrone]

So in the early days of the X-Men, was Jean both telekinetic and telepathic? Or just the former and the latter was locked away, I think is what I've heard. And has Xavier ever showed any telekinetic abilities, or is he just a super strong telepath?

(credit to Kirby Without Words)

So this is an area in which there have been a LOT of retcons, some I like better than others. When Jean Grey first appears in Uncanny X-Men #1, she's a telekinetic pure and simple. During the Silver Age, at one point Jean's telepathic abilities additionally manifested as part of a complicated plot involving her being the one student aware that Professor X had faked his death once again, and she became one of the first mutants to have two powers.

Then in 1981's Bizarre Adventures #27, there was a major retcon that Jean Grey's telepathic abilities were actually the first to awaken long before her telekinesis. Her childhood friend Annie Richardson was fatally struck by a car while playing with Jean at their suburban street in Annandale-on-Hudson nearby Bard College. This event caused Jean's telepathic powers to activate as she experienced her friend's death from the inside, which caused massive crippling depression and an inability to control her psychic powers that eventually motivated her (horrible) parents to bring in Charles Xavier to help - and he ultimately decided on a strategy of installing psychic blocks to suppress her telepathy until she became older and better able to handle it.

I have very mixed feelings about this retcon. On the one hand, the Annie Richardson event is a classic traumatic backstory and one that advances a lot of interesting themes for Jean Grey in terms of her otherworldiness and her unique perspective on mortality. On the other hand, I feel like the whole business around Professor X installing psychic blocks leads to a pattern of midreading of the Dark Phoenix Saga as one of flawed and corrupt patriarchs unable to handle the cosmic feminine - when the whole point was that Jean established the psychic blocks as a way to control the Phoenix Force while remaining human, and it was the elimination of those blocks at the hand of greedy, self-interested, gaslighting, manipulative, sexual predators that ultimately brought the Dark Phoenix into being.

Professor X has occasionally demonstrated telekinetic abilities, mostly in the Krakoan Era.

[dhsantiago]

An Onslaught lies in wait on the astral plane

[tjisntnice]

my opinion if the bau had powers :3

Aaron Hotchner- Atmokinesis (weather control)

Derek Morgan- Bilocation (being at two places in the same time)

Spencer Reid-Remote Viewing (being able to view out of sight things with mind)

David Rossi-Aero-telekinesis (telekinesis using air)

JJ-Dynamokinesis (being able to create and manipulate energy)

Penelope Garcia-Telepathy (being able to speak through minds)

[rzc11]

Betsy Braddock for the win.

[owl-with-a-pen]

[Haven't dropped a fic sneak peek in a while. And yes, despite the word count, this is just a peek. Very self-indulgent fic on a Supergirl-verse Legion origin story for Brainy, starring a certain descendant of Nia's that I have yet to write for. For anyone interested, the fic is under the cut. 😉]

Querl Dox was easily the strangest Coluan that Nura had ever seen. With his washed-out blue skin and frazzled hair as stark as her own, had she not dreamt of him beforehand, she never would have placed him as a native of Colu.

The three circles on his forehead glowed dully – some kind of transdermal implant, she suspected. A body modification? They weren’t uncommon on this side of the galaxy, although Coluan mods were never usually so exposed.

He didn’t wear them as a mark of pride, that was for sure. They looked cumbersome on his thin frame, odd ends of wiry hair thrown overtop in a vain attempt to disguise them. It could have been how he held himself naturally, she supposed - hunched over like a moody teenager trying to mask his face from the world.

No, that was exactly what he was. A teenager. Maybe pushing late adolescence by now, just like her. Not that age meant much to a Coluan, all they really cared about was intellectual maturity. Still, Nura thought it would be a few years yet until he fully grew into those implants.

Maybe they were an aid of some sort – not that he’d ever admit to it.

Nura smirked. Not yet, at least.

He hadn’t moved since she’d started watching him. Comfortably unobservable from behind a screen of one-way plasma glass, there was no way he could have known she was there. It wasn’t until Mon-El and Imra entered through the main doorway that he'd known he had visitors at all.

He didn’t so much as glance in their direction. Instead, he remained perched on the edge of the single bed he’d been granted, head bowed towards his knees, the glow of his implants reflecting back against his face like a ghostly shadow.

This was the make it or break it moment, as Mon-El had once called it. The part where an offer went one of two ways. While many wayward teens would have jumped at the chance to join their ranks, appealing to potential Legionnaires wasn’t always so easy.

After all, this was the first time that initiation would be conducted from a prison cell.

Nura followed Imra and Mon-El’s progress in a trance-like state, her mind dipped halfway into the future as her visions spun duplicates of the very conversation being had. She hummed along to the tune of the words yet to be spoken, mouthing Mon-El’s opening line, reciting it from memory.

“So,” Mon-El said casually, stopping in front of the cell that housed one Querl Dox. He caught Imra’s eye. “Interplanetary grand-theft auto, huh? I’m told you souped up some very nice engines for some very bad people.” He cracked an easy smile. “What were you trying to be, some kind of mechanic?”

Silence followed. Querl kept his head down, hands wrung loosely by his knees.

Mon-El wasn’t deterred quite so easily. “No, you’re right. Your talents would be wasted on something like that.” He folded his arms, widening his stance. “We don’t see too many Coluans this far from home.”

That got a reaction. Nura was just able to catch it beneath the shroud of Querl’s matted hair - a twitch of the lips as he bared his teeth at the ground.  

“Although, I can’t say I’m surprised,” Mon-El continued, feigning ignorance. “With a family like yours, I’m sure it’s better you keep your distance, right?”

 A sound rumbled from Querl’s chest, something that could have passed as a laugh if it hadn’t been for the jarring robotic quality. He rubbed at his wrist idly, scanning the floor beyond his cell. “So, you figured it out,” he muttered. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

Mon-El pulled a face. “I mean, maybe a little. The whole blue thing nearly threw us off. Although, I’ve got some second-hand experience with your family. Indigo was one of your relatives, wasn’t she?”

Querl stiffened. “A distant relation.”

“Right.” Mon-El nodded along. “Like Brainiac.”

Querl flinched, meeting Mon-El’s eye for the first time. Behind that shock of white hair was an alarmingly dark expression, one that bore into Mon-El with an intensity that twisted Nura’s stomach into knots. She’d known mostly what to expect from Querl Dox, and she’d warned her friends as much. If Mon-El hadn’t been listening to her then, he would certainly understand the might of the mind sat before him now.

Querl wasn’t just some moody teenager. With one wrong word, he could become their most formidable enemy to date.

It won’t happen like that, Nura reminded herself. This would all be fine. It had to be. She’d seen it.

Sort of.

Imra took Mon-El’s arm, making out as though she was offering him a steadying hand. Nura could read between the lines. She disapproved of Mon-El’s method – she was probably giving him a psychic reprimand in the same gesture.

Imra Ardeen was a woman of few words during most first-contacts with Legion potentials, but that didn’t mean she was just some impassive tag-along. If anything, Imra’s job was the most critical to their success. While Mon-El did the talking, she was already reading the thoughts of their would-be recruits, acting as a living lie-detector to ensure the validity of their intentions. That job was made a little more difficult with the psychic shielding fitted to any standard U.P prison cell, but not impossible. She was well enough acquainted with the mind from her broad studies on Titan to read a person’s expressions just as easily.  

Mon-El sighed, nodding almost imperceptibly in Imra’s direction. He scratched his jaw, clearing his throat. “Look,” he said levelly, “if you think that’s why we’re here, it isn’t. It’s just, I notice you’ve hopped between a lot of jail cells these last few years. Petty crime, mostly. Wrong place, wrong time, right?”

Querl narrowed his eyes.

“Except,” Mon-El hastened, “if you’re a Brainiac, that makes you pretty damn smart. Smart enough to know how not to get caught.” When Querl didn’t say anything to that, Mon-El relaxed, smiling knowingly. “Yeah,” he murmured, “thought so.”

Querl’s nostrils flared in irritation. Mon-El was playing on some very dangerous territory to dangle something like that over Querl’s head. Implying he knew something that Querl didn’t – well – it was the surest way to piss off any Coluan. Nura held her breath.

“Thought what?” Querl spat, teeth clenched tight.

If Mon-El felt ill at ease, he didn’t show it. Instead, he grinned. “This cell,” he said, “it’s Coluan force-shield tech, right?” He drew an outline of the cell walls with his fingers, marking all four edges as though preparing to take an old-fashioned photograph. “A few years outdated by science police standards; they probably should’ve gone for the upgrade.” He winked. “Even with power dampeners, your intellect is still unmatchable, especially with home advantage. You could break out at any time. But you don’t. For the same reason you got caught in the first place.” He tipped his chin forward seriously. “Want me to keep going?”

Querl scoffed, though Nura could hear the strain in it.

Mon-El didn’t need much encouragement. “Okay, well, the last ship you souped up was being used as a getaway vehicle for a string of interplanetary robberies. The most recent robbery, the one that got you and the rest of your little crew incarcerated – huh - it’s pretty interesting. Your ship gets into a chase with the science police, and in the process, it ends up on a collision course with a civilian air-car. Your ship has shielding, it’d be fine, but that civilian ship would’ve been blown out of the sky. No survivors.”

Querl’s glare was practically poisonous.

“Weird, then,” Mon-El continued amiably, “that before both ships can collide, yours experiences a total power loss. Stalls and starts falling mid-flight, giving the authorities the opportunity to snag your ship before it can do any damage. Now, they’re saying it was an engine malfunction on all the official documentation, and maybe that’s true. But I’m thinking with your skill, there’s no way that engine went in faulty.” He crossed his arms behind his back. “Do you want to know what I think? I think someone tampered with it in a way that would’ve been totally imperceptible to the rest of the crew. Because the person that did it not only built it, but wouldn’t have needed to touch it at all.”

“Are you accusing me of something?” Querl muttered. He made a flippant gesture to his cell. “Because if you are, then I think you’ll find I’m already in the right place.”

Mon-El shook his head slowly. “See, I don’t think you are.” He stepped forward, just as Imra did the same. “My name’s Mon-El, and this is Imra Ardeen. We represent the Legion of Superheroes. We’re a pretty small organisation right now, but we’ve built up something of a reputation here on Earth - as well as the rest of the United Planets thanks to some of our newest members. We have a set of rules, but the most important one is to put the needs of the people before our own. To protect life. Never kill.” His lips quirked. “I’d say you displayed that admirably.”

Nura watched wide-eyed from her invisible vantage, knuckles pressed tight against her lips. She’d seen the outcome of the day’s events a dozen times over in her dreams, but even that wasn’t enough to quell her anxiety. Something felt wrong. She just couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

As though in answer to her fears, Querl drew back, enough that he could look Mon-El squarely in the eye. His hair fell away from his face, drawing around the edges of his implants like a display curtain. “Mon-El. Yes,” he breathed the word slowly, his dark eyes glistening with knowledge far beyond his years, “I know who you are.” He cocked his head suddenly. “It always causes a stir when someone breaks the boundaries of spacetime. You are from the past. From a dead world. The sister planet of Krypton.” His lips curled with disdain. “Daxam.”

Nura swore under her breath. Out in the cell room, Mon-El nodded, a touch of defensiveness in his tone. “Yes—"

But Querl didn’t let him finish. “You profess these ideals,” he spat, “and yet you have built a monument to your hubris with this… Legion.” He sneered at them both, drawing his fire on Imra next. “You wear your Saturn identifier with pride, Titanian. Telepathy is a most valuable gift in the art of subterfuge.” He narrowed his eyes. “All I see here is a collection of powers you can utilise to meet your own ends. And nothing good comes out of that.”

Nura jolted towards the glass as another dream claimed her, Mon-El’s words flashing in her mind seconds before they touched his lips.

“Don’t say it,” she gasped.

But it was too late.

“I suppose you would know all about collections,” Mon-El said, the charm in his tone all-but gone.

Nura swore again. Mon-El might as well have just declared war.

“Visiting hours have ended,” Querl said, his voice tight. He lay down abruptly on his side, turning away from them both so that he faced the wall. “Do not come back.”

----------------

Nura waited impatiently at the view box door, stepping aside just before it pushed open.

“I think that went well,” Mon-El remarked as he and Imra walked through, brushing himself down with a casual air.

Imra rolled her eyes. “You shouldn’t have engaged with his snark.”

“So, you agree it was snark!”

“It was a cover! I don’t need my powers to see that. It was all over his face.”

“This should be working,” Nura cut in, kicking herself from the wall as she stalked past them both towards the plasma glass view screen. She stabbed her finger at the Coluan still lying dormant on the other side. “I dreamed it. Querl Dox will agree to join the Legion. Today.”

Imra’s brow creased sympathetically. “I don’t doubt that, Nura,” she said gently. “It’s just…”

“Do you have any idea how it happens?” Mon-El asked. “A conversation starter—or a cheat sheet on what to say that won’t piss him off?”

“I could’ve told you that,” Imra muttered.

“You know that’s not how it works,” Nura sighed. “I don’t know exactly how it happens, only that it will. Besides, you two are always the ones that bring in the new recruits. It made sense.”

“Yeah, but that’s usually because we want to,” Mon-El muttered, flinching against another psychic reprimand.

Nura glared through the window, trying to make a clean study of their unwilling recruit. He’d rolled onto his back since Mon-El and Imra had left, his arms crossed smartly over his chest. To an untrained eye, it looked like he was in some sort of meditative state. Whatever it was, Nura was well enough acquainted with the unconscious realm to know it was mostly for show.

“Querl Dox is important,” Nura said, repeating her earlier words back at herself. Or, maybe they were her future words? Sometimes it was so hard to tell. She cleared her throat, raising her voice. “If the Legion is going to continue, we’ll need him. His intellect will save lives. And…” She stopped herself, clenching her hands.

“What is it?” Imra prompted.

Nura shook her head. “We don’t just need him. I think he…” She couldn’t say it yet; couldn’t betray his pride like that, not before he’d even met her for the first time.

There was a good way to rectify that, at least.

Nura sucked in a deep breath, pulling back from the window. “My visions are never wrong. Let me try and talk to him.”

“Go ahead,” Mon-El said, offering her the length of the hallway. “But I’ll warn you, he’s stubborn.”

Nura smiled grimly. “That makes two of us.”

[lady-zephyrine]

So Gooey and Blade are disconnected from their hive, right? So they would have to find other ways to communicate.

Blade communicates through telepathy, this is how he's able to talk/whisper/yell/ etc. However, he can't talk verbally since it strains his throat. The only exception is when he's possessing someone (since he can use his victim's voice instead), otherwise he can't speak more than a word or two at most.

Meanwhile, Gooey isn't able to use telepathy at all, but he's gotten so much better at speaking verbally. He tends to forget certain words here and there, but he'll try to use body language if instead if it'll help him.

Speaking of which, since both brothers were mute for the first chunk of their lives, they're able to communicate through signs and body language. It still comes in handy when they find themselves in a situation where they can't talk otherwise.

[theeccentricraven]

Writing Share Tag

Thank you @kaylinalexanderbooks and @jay-avian for the tag 💜

Rules: share a bit of your writing no matter how big or small

A while ago I shared a snippet from The Blood Cleaners here

After a lot of rewriting, I feel ready to post my current version of the first two pages. Wish me luck!

The Blood Cleaners | Chapter 1

"It's not fair," Justin’s lips muttered as he sat in the corner with his arms folded. 

Ellen towered over him, looking down with her hazel eyes. She didn’t come all of this way from her assignment to be soft. 

“Don’t give me that, it’s plenty fair.” Her low voice filled the lecture hall. Justin felt like she was speaking to him from all angles. He heard the children in the hallway, muttering and chatting about the mess he made. Lady Miguela, his supervisor and overseer of the child workers, hushed the children. Justin could pick up voices calling him “that luny kid again” or “el loco”. Steve’s callous voice chimed. Justin’s blood boiled.

Ellen went on. “You spilled the cleaners. You clean them up.”

“It was Steve’s fault!” Justin yelled.   

“Steve didn’t hit you. You hit him.”

Justin clenched his fists. “Because he took my broom and dustpan!” 

Ellen shook her head. “No matter how much the broom and dustpan mean to you, it’s never okay to hit someone and throw things.”

Justin protruded his lips. 

“And worse,” Ellen continued, “you could have contaminated something. Of all the places you could have gotten away with being careless, the hydroponics lab is NOT one of them.”

Justin raised his hands. “But he took it from me!”

Ellen took hold of his hands. “I’m sorry, but we don’t own the tools for our jobs. The broom and dustpan don’t belong to you, not to Steve, not to anyone. At the end of the day, it belongs to the city.”

“But it….” Justin breathed in a sob. He was trying to not cry when the other kids could hear him, but he didn’t have a need to hold back around Ellen. “But it….” He wanted to say, But it talked to me! He wasn’t concerned about saying it around Ellen who didn’t think of him as crazy, though that was only part of it. 

“But it’s mine.” Justin managed to mutter with a sob.

Ellen’s eyes shifted. “I understand Steve hurt you. You don’t need to follow his example.”

Ellen bent her knees to get her head down to Justin’s level. Her hazel eyes faced his dark brown eyes. “Justin, no matter what, you’ll have to get a new broom and pan out of the closet. Once you finish cleaning up, you’ll be back with Deirdre and Miriam.”

Justin made a grunt as he shifted to face the wall. 

Ellen slowly stood up. “Hey,” she bursted with a little cheer. “Tell you what?”

Justin turned his neck to look up at her as she smiled down on him. 

Ellen lightened her voice. “If you clean up the garden room now, then once you get a new broom and pan, I’ll send you to cover one of my assignments today. Now that you’re eight years old, you are allowed to cover some areas alone. You won’t need to spend the rest of the day with Steve.”

Justin’s face lifted. “You mean it?”

“Absolutely.” 

Justin knew that he couldn’t refuse a good bargain like this. He extended his hand. 

“Ok. Deal.”

Ellen’s light tan hand held Justin’s medium brown hand as they shook. Ellen rubbed his spiky dark black hair. He twirled one of her loose light brown locks. Justin stood up from his stool. The two walked across the lecture hall and made their way into the hallway of chatter. A team of three lab workers dressed in white lab coats walked in. Their shoulders were low. Their heads looked down. Justin almost cracked a laugh to ask, “Who died?” but he focused on joining up with Lady Miguela and the other child workers. 

Steve held the stolen broom and pan high, smirking and acting like a big shot. Justin clinched his fits and stuck out his tongue. Steve laughed. So did the other children. Miriam and Deirdre stood quietly with their hands behind their backs, smiling at Justin. Deirdre looked so much like her mother Ellen with the flowing brown locks and soft hazel eyes. Miriam shared her eyes and hair, though her flat head and face were said to me more like her father’s. Everyone preferred to not bring up his name. 

“Get Betty on the line,” Ellen said to Lady Miguela.

Lady Miguela pulled out the walkie talkie. 

“Betty,” Lady Miguela said to the walkie talkie.

“Yes?” said the groaning voice of Lady Betty. 

“Ellen has an update.” Lady Miguela handed the walkie talkie to Ellen. 

Justin looked up at the hallway ceiling fluorescent tubes, pretending he wasn’t listening. 

“Betty,” said Ellen. “Justin is going to clean the green room. I’m going back to the boiler room.”

“I knew I could count on you,” said Lady Betty’s long drawn voice. “You are the closest person to a Mamá that he has.” 

Justin was frequently reminded how obvious it was that he was not a bloodborne son in the family with his medium brown skin, dark brown eyes, and spiky black hair. It didn’t matter. Ellen was his dead mother’s friend, not his Mamá.

Justin walked to the broom closet, gladly without the company of anyone else. He opened the broom closet in the hallway. A few brooms spilled onto the concrete floor as the strong scent of molded bread spewed out. He picked up each broom with both hands, changing from one broom to the next one. He held each with both hands, waiting for the feeling to come to him. 

He had to go through at least ten brooms. At the eleventh, he felt something. He clutched the broom handle as a faint warmth inside the broom built up under his palms. He gripped the handle tighter, feeling like he held his hands above a fire. He let go of his right hand and held the attached dustpan. The warmth channeled from his fingers down to his arms. Justin eyed the dustpan and broom. He directed his thoughts to the items in his hands, like they were people who could hear inside his head. Here I am. Talk to me, please. He waited. He felt nothing. He tried again. I am here. Please talk to me. He waited. The broom and pan were warm, but quiet. He had to hurry before he got yelled at, though he wasn’t giving up yet. He closed his eyes as he focused harder. I can feel you. Let me know that you can feel me. Justin felt the broom handle and pan surface vibrate. Channels of energy flowed through his arms and to his spine. He smiled. This would do.

tagging (no obligation): @orphanheirs @unstablewifiaccess @floweryprosegarden @proceduralpassion @leopardsnake-stories @ramitola @minamaybe @winglesswriter @g0ttest0d @tildeathiwillwrite @whatwewrotepodcast and open!

[totallynotapsychic]

Oooh, you can do telekinesis?! :0

Finally! After all these months, I found the source of the psychic energy readings...!!!

no that was a figure of speech.

[peacockplanet]

Peacock Planet Chapter 1 Page 11

// If it is... no one ever told me. I'm sorry. // This is the first conversation I've had in... how long? // When is it? //

// You shouldn't talk out of turn here, it can be VERY dangerous. // A hint of concern. Emotions don't feel strong in this person's voice. When they come through it's almost a surprise. // You did work in the yard without leaving your cell block. Why? // {Previous Page} {Read from the Beginning} {Next Page}

[angstylittleguy]

In Which Everything Goes Wonderfully Wrong Characters

-> writing masterpost

Aurora "Rory" Estrada

⋆ A girl that woke up one day and could hear the thoughts of everyone around her, whether she likes it or not.

⋆ She hates that she can't give the people around her any privacy, and she constantly feels like she's intruding and being disrespectful, as she has no right to hear someone's private thoughts.

⋆ Her head constantly hurts, her temples throbbing and no amount of Tylenol can fix that.

⋆ The only thing that can even attempt to battle the flood of voices, is music. Rory never goes anywhere without her headphones.

⋆ After she discovered her ability, her short-term memory declined as she was plagued with the thoughts of everyone but herself. She's started keeping a journal to help her remember things.

⋆ Despite all of the downsides to her ability, she has hopes of becoming a psychologist, and is going to college to get her degree.

⋆ Rory is the one who can sense people like her: people with unwanted abilities. Something about their thoughts are different, laced with an extra something that she didn't understand.

Dalton Richards

⋆ Dalton is disgusted with his powers.

⋆ He was a very private person, never sharing how he was feeling with anyone and he normally kept to himself, dealing with his thoughts on his own.

⋆ But now that he has these stupid abilities? All it does is draw attention to himself, and he's forced to wear his emotions on his sleeve.

⋆ His emotions controlled his height, and it terrified him.

⋆ At first it started with growing or shrinking a few inches, but as the days went by his ability grew stronger and his height changed more drastically.

⋆ When he was sad or upset, he would shrink down to where the smallest of objects would tower over him, and when he was angry his head would brush the ceiling and he would have to hunch over on himself to avoid breaking anything.

⋆ He was terrified of hurting people, and he had no way to control what happened to him.

Bennett Haltiwanger

⋆ Bennett was certain he had the worst power out of everyone.

⋆ Rory had called it the "Groundhog Day" power, and he hated that name. He couldn't think of a better one, though.

⋆ The first time he had discovered his ability, was in a terrible car accident. At first, he had thought it was all a dream, because he woke up in his bed at the beginning of the same day. He and his friends got into the car, Bennett brushing off the bad vibes™ as something from the weird dream he had. Then a car swerved into their lane, and Bennett woke up in his bed once again. The loop repeated over and over and over again, and did not stop until he survived to the next day. A day in which he could not convince his friends to leave the car, and he had to go without them.

⋆ His powers sucked, forcing him to relive a tragedy over and over again until he survived, and often times he could not save the people around him.

⋆ He started isolating himself from people to avoid being stuck in the loop, knowing that he would be the only one to walk out alive.

⋆ His ability scared him. He didn't know what would happen if one day he died from natural causes. What if he got sick? Or died from old age? Would he have to relive that day over and over again, even if there was nothing he could to do to avoid that death?

Josiah Lowell

⋆ When Josiah had discovered his ability, he thought it was permanent.

⋆ He had woken up one day and he had no reflection.

⋆ With absolutely no idea what to do, Josiah just stayed at home in his apartment until it finally wore off. Of course, at the time, he didn't know that it wasn't permanent, and the time that he spent locked away in his room was extremely panic-induced. It took eight days for his reflection to return.

⋆ When he was invisible, he couldn’t feel anything. It’s like his entire body was numb. Sometimes, he would even sink through the floor, as if he no longer held any matter and had the mass of air.

⋆ The invisibility came in spells, with no way to tell when it would happen and how long it would last.

⋆ He had gotten used to it for the most part, and learned to navigate his daily life without making too many changes.

⋆ And then he began to lose feeling in his fingers.

⋆ And his vision began to decline.

Meiling Zhao

⋆ Meiling liked to go fast.

⋆ She had run track and cross country in both middle school and high school, and when she was old enough she got her motorcycle license and began to drag race.

⋆ Needless to say, when she discovered her ability, she wasn't exactly upset about it.

⋆ She used it as often as she could, running around and doing daily tasks as quick as lightning so she had as much free time in her day as possible.

⋆ As the days stretched on and it felt like the sun set less often, Meiling began to feel her body growing tired from the constant usage, her muscles and limbs aching.

[jeandejard3n]

TELEKINESIS AMBIENT