#mental kinetic

[thegoldenreport]

MENTAL KINETIC

“...are you recording?”

“Yeah.”

“Lyness was telling me he saw lights in the window, north wall I think.”

“Lyness sees all sorts of things…”

-

“Did you hear the song?”

“Who hasn’t?”

“I’d have expected more.”

-

“Which entrance?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What?! How we ‘sposed to get in here?”

“This place’s been abandoned for years, all the doors are probably locked anyways. I guess I’m just looking for an opportunity!”

“...get down!”

-

“Go, go, go!”

“Hold on, wait up!”

-

 “What were you thinking?!”

“I saw an opportunity and I took it.”

“It’s so cold in here.”

“Observant.”

“Shut up.”

“Come on, I think they went this way.”

“Ah yes, follow the hooded children, I love that.”

-

“You, the uninitiated, the uninformed. Do you have the elasticity to see what is beyond and bend the very nature of this physical realm?”

“They aren’t real, Miss Scorvo.”

“Yeah, we caught them lost in the third apex”

“I’ll be the one who decides. If they are lost, they will learn. Relinquish your holds.”

“Aghh! …shit!”

“Get up.”

-

“The basics of mentalism lie in the power to operate form. Please watch closely.”

“How are there so many of you?”

“The light brings, whom the light brings.”

“Woah. Hey! Please, you don’t need to do that.”

“Then do not interrupt me...”

-

“This is absolutely batshit insane.”

“I’ve been planning our escape.”

“Why would you do that for?”

“I-uh…um. I wasn’t talking to you.”

“I mean you can leave when school’s out.”

“When is that?”

“Tomorrow. Are you gonna use that scrap? I’d like to practice my lifting.”

-

“You’re trying too hard, that’s why nothing’s happening.”

“I don’t think I’m psychic.”

“Psychics don’t exist, at least not the ones you think of. Get that word out of your brain. This is something different. Something everyone can tap into.”

“Mentalism…right.”

“Think without thinking.”

-

“So how did you guys…get started?”

“We heard the song. They were the first.”

“You mean the song that hasn’t stopped playing.”

“That’s the one. It’s a great reminder to stay focused on what’s important.”

“And what’s that?”

“Terrace is changing his face again. Would you like to come see?”

-

“I can teach you to be your own glitch. An insult to reality.”

“That’s…cool.”

-

“Where’s the exit? How long has it been?!”

“Woah, woah, woah, now what is the matter? I can’t have you wandering the halls alone like this. You’ll miss your next class.”

“The song…won’t…stop. What are you doing to us?”

“Darling, I am your teacher. Not your warden. There is a difference.”

“Come on, Molly. Levitation’s gonna be so much fun!

-

“I’ve never felt so light. I…I…think I did this in a dream once.”

“You probably did. There are strange truths in dreams.”

“This is incredible.”

“Don’t go too high now.”

-

“Thank you for being so willing.”

“It’s been hard, but we’ve learned so much.”

“Yeah, my brain is definitely…unlocked or something.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Will I see you both tomorrow?”

“Of course! Of course.”

“Of course!”

“...of course.”

[cloudnana]

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

About me

Name : Nana | Hannah

Age : 24

- Regression ages -

4-6 years | 9-12 years

Why I regress and middle regress -

involuntarily regress to cope with my cPTSD, anxiety and autism-related issues

involuntarily middle regress to deal with major depression and isolation that started at ages 9-12

What my blog is

a coping blog + safe space to regress + y2k nostalgia themed middle regression + allow the smol sleepy me to relax

Who I want to follow me

Sfw Age regressors

Sfw Middle regressors

Sfw Kidcore blogs

Sfw Nostalgia blogs 90s and y2k mostly

Sfw caregivers

Who I DO NOT want to follow me or interact

Anti-age regression

Xenophobic or ableist

Kink | Nsfw of any kind

Abdl | Ddlg and its variants

Favorite stuffies names

Dininho the Dinossaur

Petunia the Pink Bear with a ribbon

Favorite snacks

Tuna sandwiches

Buttered popcorn

Banana Milk

Oatmeal + Cinammon

Tea and salt crackers

Favorite movies and shows

Barbie Rapunzel

Barbie and the nutcracker

Barbie of swan lake

Barbie and the magic of Pegasus

Barbie as the princess and the pauper

Bratz fashion pixies

Bratz genie magic

The Princess diaries 1

Enchanted Elle

The parent trap

Freaky friday

Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen

Likes

Vintage tech + fashion + deco + gamer setups

Cats, bats, otters, bunnies, foxes, beagles and border collie

Pastel and muted color tones

Sanrio

Carebears, Strawberry shortcake, Disney 90s cartoons

Fini candy + chocolate + fruits

Anime + manga + kpop & k-drama

Bedtime

[riff-is-on-a-fucking-crisis]

Happy Pride suckers!!

Some of my headcanons have changed, some stayed the same, so here we go

Amethysto - Non-binary Bi-Asexual (he/they)

Kinetic - Quoigender Abrosexual Aroaceflux (they/them)

Tigris - Maverique Lesbian (she/he)

Captain Roblox - Bigender Bisexual Aromantic Demisexual (he/him, she/they)

Overdrive - Transmasc Demiboy Gay Demiromantic Aegosexual (he/him)

Tessla - Transfem Demigirl Omnisexual Grey-aroace (she/her)

Glimmer - Pangender Pomosexual (she/they/fae)

Glam - Agender (they/it)

[mahadeoh-blog]

BLESS (Blood+Flesh+Soul) Major Update!!!

Bless (Blood+Flesh+Soul) is now officially a Kinetic Novel.

Play Now: Bless (Blood+Flesh+Soul)

In addition to being less enjoyable, a mad libs system (previous system) will actually hinder the message of Bless's story. In fact, this is a very important story for me. I have long harboured a dream that Bless will be able to change people's lives.

So, you will be able to enjoy Bless like reading a regular novel, without any branching stories like CYOA (Choose Your Own Adventure). This also means there will be no puzzles or challenges you need to face to read this story.

In this update, you will get:

New characters

New background

Change POV (from 1st to 3rd POV)

More new images

Chapter 10

Easier to understand story

Save Menu at the end of each chapter

One whole "Book 1" (Chapter 1-10)

Nevertheless, Bless is still far from being finished. There is still a possibility that some parts of the story may change during refinement. However, this will not alter the overall storyline of Bless that has been established from the beginning.

I hope this story will inspire you as a reader. Enjoy it and look forward to the next update of Bless. For within Bless, there might be the answer you have been searching for all this time.

Because, Bless isn't just a story. It's an answer.

Play Now: Bless (Blood+Flesh+Soul)

[starclawz]

Hii quick thing no full art today i ll try to write but I am not feeling too well

[prokopetz]

On the one hand, it's true that the way Dungeons & Dragons defines terms like "sorcerer" and "warlock" and "wizard" is really only relevant to Dungeons & Dragons and its associated media – indeed, how these terms are used isn't even consistent between editions of D&D! – and trying to apply them in other contexts is rarely productive.

On the other hand, it's not true that these sorts of fine-grained taxonomies of types of magic are strictly a D&D-ism and never occur elsewhere. That folks make this argument is typically a symptom of being unfamiliar with Dungeons & Dragons' source material. D&D's main inspirations are American literary sword and sorcery fantasy spanning roughly the 1930s through the early 1980s, and fine-grained taxonomies of magic users absolutely do appear in these sources; they just aren't anything like as consistent as the folks who try to cram everything into the sorcerer/warlock/wizard model would prefer.

For example, in Lyndon Hardy's "Five Magics" series, the five types of magical practitioners are:

Alchemists: Drawing forth the hidden virtues of common materials to craft magic potions; limited by the fact that the outcomes of their formulas are partially random.

Magicians: Crafting enchanted items through complex manufacturing procedures; limited by the fact that each step in the procedure must be performed perfectly with no margin for error.

Sorcerers: Speaking verbal formulas to basically hack other people's minds, permitting illusion-craft and mind control; limited by the fact that the exercise of their art eventually kills them.

Thaumaturges: Shaping matter by manipulating miniature models; limited by the need to draw on outside sources like fires or flywheels to make up the resulting kinetic energy deficit.

Wizards: Summoning and binding demons from other dimensions; limited by the fact that the binding ritual exposes them to mental domination by the summoned demon if their will is weak.

"Warlock", meanwhile, isn't a type of practitioner, but does appear as pejorative term for a wizard who's lost a contest of wills with one of their own summoned demons.

Conversely, Lawrence Watt-Evans' "Legends of Ethshar" series includes such types of magic-users as:

Sorcerers: Channelling power through metal talismans to produce fixed effects; in the time of the novels, talisman-craft is largely a lost art, and most sorcerers use found or inherited talismans.

Theurges: Summoning gods; the setting's gods have no interest in human worship, but are bound not to interfere in the mortal world unless summoned, and are thus amenable to cutting deals.

Warlocks: Wielding X-Men style psychokinesis by virtue of their attunement to the telepathic whispers emanating from the wreckage of a crashed alien starship. (They're the edgy ones!)

Witches: Producing improvisational effects mostly related to healing, telepathy, precognition, and minor telekinesis by drawing on their own internal energy.

Wizards: Drawing down the infinite power of Chaos and shaping it with complex rituals. Basically D&D wizards, albeit with a much greater propensity for exploding.

You'll note that both taxonomies include something called a "sorcerer", something called a "warlock", and something called a "wizard", but what those terms mean in their respective contexts agrees neither with the Dungeons & Dragons definitions, nor with each other.

(Admittedly, these examples are from the 1980s, and are thus not free of D&D's influence; I picked them because they both happened to use all three of the terms in question in ways that are at odds with how D&D uses them. You can find similar taxonomies of magic use in earlier works, but I would have had to use many more examples to offer multiple competing definitions of each of "sorcerer", "warlock" and "wizard", and this post is already long enough!)

So basically what I'm saying is giving people a hard time about using these terms "wrong" – particularly if your objection is that they're not using them in a way that's congruent with however D&D's flavour of the week uses them – makes you a dick, but simply having this sort of taxonomy has a rich history within the genre. Wizard phylogeny is a time-honoured tradition!

[mythrilthread]

My magnum opus, the jewel of my Binderary round-up, the result of four months of hard work (that is to say, a lot of force applied over distance), the project affectionately known as The Motherfuckers (because it was rather unclear if I was going to finish these books or if they were going to be the end of me).

Force over Distance by cleanwhiteroom. It is currently also on AO3.

I was first introduced to this incredible story by a dear friend, who first sold me on actually watching SGU, and then said that they remember this fic since like 2011, which is always a promising sign. I went digging and found out I was in luck - the story was being rewritten and reuploaded on the author's blog. The next two weeks are described by the same friend as "one of the scariest moments in our cohabitation" as I'd spent literally every waking moment injecting the story directly into my eyeballs, and let me tell you, I'd not been doing a lot of sleeping at that time.

Then I gathered up my courage and reached out to CWR re: my burning desire to bind this story. And the rest, well. Let's dig into it, shall we?

This was my first time typesetting 540k words. Considering I tend to prefer larger font sizes for increased legibility, it was immediately obvious that this was going to be a multivolume project. I settled on three, as it's the relationship between three individuals that forms the core of the story.

I also knew I wanted to keep the typeset in black and white, but play around with light and dark a lot. So I did. One of the first design idea I actually had was the way I wanted to handle projected speech. Mental link between Young, Rush and Destiny is THE most vital part of the story, and I wanted to make it immediatly obvious. I also wanted to be able to take one glance at the page and tell how much of the action is actually just two guys staring each other down :) Hence the blackout effect of thoughts being represented as light over darkness.

I also wanted to preserve as much of my reading experience as possible. So I saved all the chapter quotes/summaries in the TOC, and hid the chapter content warnings in the frame of the gate that marks the beginning of each chapter. For most of the chapter the warnings stay the same, so after a while you stop really noticing them, but then you open a new chapter and see that the familiar shape of the words has changed, and get this UH-OH feeling. Which, I think is very much how it works in my design, because when the warnings change there's usually another line of text added.

For flashbacks and dream sequences I switched from italics to a lighter shade of gray. I woudn't say it's more legible per say, but it's in keeping with the overall light/dark theme.

There are instances of people using handwritten notes in the story. I collected more than a dozen of assorted handwriting fonts, with each character having their own "handwriting". So when, for example, someone begins writing in someone else's hand, you immediately know it.

The most insane, labor-intensive part of the typeset, however, was the way I decided to handle the Ancient translations. CWR's gone through the trouble of setting up hover-to-discover for it, which gives you a very different reading experience than, say, having the translations in the endnotes. So, naturally, I said to myself that I want to replicate that, and footnotes just won't do the trick. So. Every instance of Ancient in the text has an underlay of light gray Ancient script. And an OVERLAY of paper vellum with the translation printed in blue. Now, not to toot my own horn too much, but if looks SICK AS FUCK. You also MAYBE SHOULD NOT LIVE LIKE THIS. For the two copies of this work I had to cut up 10 sheets of vellum into strips, and then spent from 20 minutes to an hour per volume tipping the strips in their proper places. I then had to wear kinetic tape on both my hands to help with the joint pain. (It was worth it.)

Now for the title spread. It is also paper vellum that you see as soon as you turn the first page (the half-title), and see it covering the title of the book and author's name. And then you turn it. And the shields sing the matter wave of Destiny through the black. And yeah, I think that's very, very clever of me, actually.

Then, of course, were the endpapers. All 12 of them are unique abstract paintings done on black cardstock by hand with brush pens and correction tape, I scanned a sample of each set for posterity. All of them are my interpretations of characters' midscapes. For volume 1 I went with the fire wind of Rush's thoughts. Volume 2 was for Young, and I went for the reverse blackout poetry effect (because for all the mental talking they do, the unprojected thoughts are opaque to their counterparts) and all the loops, hairpins and blocks he does. Volume 3 is for the combination - Rush's fire wind, changing its color to match the circuitry pattern of Destiny's AI.

The rest, in comparison, is easy. All volumes are stitched with 3 strands of embroidery floss, a combination of black, blue and silvery-gray. The French double-core endbands are sewn in the same color scheme (though with a different shade of blue and gray switched for white for added contrast). The edges are painted and splattered to look like space.

The covers feature my (signature at this point, I guess) half-cloth river pattern, with the base being dark blue linen and the printed parts being Spitzer telescope images of the W51 star forge, Jack-O'-Lantern Nebula and the Eagle Nebula (courtesy of NASA), waxed by hand for added sheen. The spines are foiled in silver with a foil quill.

Each set is 5 pound of solid hand-crafted book, with one set being my personal copy, and the other sent as a gift to the author.

And that's it, folks! This has been an incredible project to work on, and I'm very proud of what I achieved with it.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Kickstarting “The Bezzle” audiobook, sequel to Red Team Blues

I'm heading to Berlin! On January 29, I'll be delivering Transmediale's Marshall McLuhan Lecture, and on January 30, I'll be at Otherland Books (tickets are limited! They'll have exclusive early access to the English edition of The Bezzle and the German edition of Red Team Blues!).

I'm kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to last year's Red Team Blues, featuring Marty Hench, a hard-charging, two-fisted forensic accountant who spent 40 years in Silicon Valley, busting every finance scam hatched by tech bros' feverish imaginations:

http://thebezzle.org

Marty Hench is a great character to write. His career in high-tech scambusting starts in the early 1980s with the first PCs and stretches all the way to the cryptocurrency era, the most target-rich environment for scamhunting tech has ever seen. Hench is the Zelig of tech scams, and I'm having so much fun using him to probe the seamy underbelly of the tech economy.

Enter The Bezzle, which will be published by Tor Books and Head of Zeus on Feb 20: this adventure finds Marty in the company of Scott Warms, one of the many bright technologists whose great startup was bought and destroyed by Yahoo! (yes, they really used that asinine exclamation mark). Scott is shackled to the Punctuation Factory by golden handcuffs, and he's determined to get fired without cause, so he can collect his shares and move onto the next thing.

That's how Scott and Marty find themselves on Catalina island, the redoubt of the Wrigley family, where bison roam the hills, yachts bob in the habor and fast food is banned. Scott invites Marty on a series of luxury vacations on Catalina, which end abruptly when they discover – and implode – a hamburger-related Ponzi scheme run by a real-estate millionaire who is destroying the personal finances of the Island's working-class townies out of sheer sadism.

Scott's victory is bittersweet: sure, he blew up the Ponzi scheme, but he's also made powerful enemies – the kinds of enemies who can pull strings with the notoriously corrupt LA County Sheriff's Deputies who are the only law on Catalina, and after taking a pair of felony plea deals, Scott gets the message and never visits Catalina Island again.

That could have been the end of it, but California's three-strikes law – since rescinded – means that when Scott picks up one more felony conviction for some drugs discovered during a traffic stop, he's facing life in prison.

That's where The Bezzle really gets into gear.

At its core, The Bezzle is a novel about the "shitty technology adoption curve": the idea that our worst technological schemes are sanded smooth on the bodies of prisoners, mental patients, kids and refugees before they work their way up the privilege gradient and are inflicted on all of us:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

America's prisons are vicious, brutal places, and technology has only made them worse. When Scott's prison swaps out in-person visits, the prison library, and phone calls for a "free" tablet that offers all these services as janky apps that cost ten times more than they would on the outside, the cruelty finds a business model.

Working inside and outside the prison Marty Hench and Scott Warms figure out the full nature of the scam that the captive audience of prisoners are involuntary beta-testers for, and they discover a sprawling web of real-estate fraud, tech scams, and offshore finance that is extracting fortunes from the hides of America's prisoners and their families. The criminals who run that kind of enterprise aren't shy about fighting for what they've got, and they're more than happy to cut some of LA County's notorious deputy gangs in for a cut in exchange for providing some kinetic support for the project.

The Bezzle is exactly the kind of book I was hoping I'd get to write when I kicked off the Hench series – one that decodes the scam economy, from music royalties to prison videoconferencing, real estate investment trusts to Big Four accounting firm bogus audits. It's both a fast-moving, two-fisted crime novel and a masterclass on how the rich and powerful get away with both literal and figurative murder.

It's getting a big push from both my publishers and I'll be touring western Canada and the US with it. The early reviews are spectacular. But despite all of this, I had to make my own audiobook for it, which I'm pre-selling on Kickstarter:

http://thebezzle.org

Why? Because Audible – Amazon's monopoly gatekeeper to the audiobook world, with more than 90% of the market – refuses to carry my work.

Audible uses Digital Rights Management to lock every audiobook they sell to their platform. Legally, only an Audible-authorized app can decrypt and play the audiobooks they sell you. Distributing a tool that removes Audible DRM is a felony under Section 1201 of the 1998 DMCA.

That means that if you break up with Audible – delete your Audible apps – you will lose your entire audiobook library. And the fact that you're Audible's hostage makes the writers you love into their hostages, too. Writers understand that if they leave the Audible platform, their audience will have to choose between following them, or losing all their audiobooks.

That's how Audible gets away with abusing its performers and writers, up to and including the $100m Audiblegate wage-theft scandal:

https://www.audiblegate.com/

Audible can steal $100m from its writers…and the writers still continue to sell on the platform, because leaving will cost them their audience.

This is canonical enshittification: lock in users, then screw suppliers. Lots of companies abuse DRM to do this, but none can hold a candle to Amazon, who understand that the DMCA is a copyright law that protects corporations at the expense of creators.

Under DMCA 1201 commercial distribution of a "circumvention device" carries a five-year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine. That means that if I write a book, pay to have it recorded, and then sell it to you through Audible, I am criminally prohibited from giving you the tool to take it from Audible to another platform. Even though I hold the copyright to that work, I would face a harsher sentence than you would if you simply pirated the audiobook from some darknet site. Not only that: if you shoplifted the audiobook in CD form, you'd get a lighter sentence than I, the copyright holder, would receive for giving you a tool to unlock it from Amazon's platform! Hell, if you hijacked the truck that delivered the CD, you'd get off lighter than I would. This is a scam straight out of a Marty Hench novel.

This is batshit. I won't allow it. My books are licensed on the condition that they must not be sold with DRM. Which means that Audible won't sell my books, which means that my publishers are thoroughly disinterested in paying thousands of dollars to produce audiobooks of my titles. A book that isn't sold in the one store than accounts for 90% of all sales is unlikely to do well.

That's where you come in. Since 2020, I've used Kickstarter to pre-sell five of my audiobooks (I wrote nine books during lockdown!). All told, I've raised over $750,000 (gross! but still!) on these crowdfunders. More than 20,000 backers have pitched in! The last two of these books – The Internet Con and The Lost Cause – were national bestsellers.

This isn't just a way for me to pay off a lot of bills and put away something for retirement – it's proof that readers care about supporting writers and don't want to be locked in by a giant monopolist that depends on its drivers pissing in bottles to make quota.

It's a powerful message about the desire for something better than Amazon. It's part of the current that is driving the FTC to haul Amazon into court for being a monopolist, and also part of the inspiration for other authors to try treating Amazon as damage and routing around it, with spectacular results:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/dragonsteel/surprise-four-secret-novels-by-brandon-sanderson

And I'm doing it again. Last December, I went into Skyboat Media's studios where Gabrielle De Cuir directed @wilwheaton, who reprised his role as Marty Hench for the audiobook of The Bezzle. It came out amazing:

https://archive.org/details/bezzle-sample

Now I'm pre-selling this audiobook, as well as the ebook and hardcover for The Bezzle. I'm also offering bundles with the ebook and audiobook for Red Team Blues (naturally these are all DRM-free). You can get your books signed and personalized and shipped anywhere in the world, courtesy of Book Soup, and I've partnered with Libro.fm to deliver DRM-free audiobooks with an app for people who don't want to mess around with sideloading.

I've also got some spendy options for high rollers. There's three chances to name a character in the next Hench novel (Picks and Shovels, Feb 2025). There's also five chances to commission a Hench short story about your favorite tech scam, and get credited when the story is published.

The Kickstarter runs for the next three weeks, which should give me time to get the hardcopy books signed and shipped to arrive around the on-sale date. What's more, I've finally worked out all the post-Brexit kinks with shipping my UK publisher's books to EU backers. I'm working with Otherland Books to fulfill those EU orders, and it looks like I'm going to be able to sign a giant stack of those when I'm in Berlin later this month to give the annual Marshall McLuhan lecture at the Canadian embassy:

https://transmediale.de/en/2024/event/mcluhan-2024

Red Team Blues and its sequels are some of the most fun – and informative – work I've done in my quarter-century career. I love how they blend technical explanations of the scam economy with high-intensity technothrillers. That's the the same mix as my bestselling YA series Little Brother series – but these are firmly adult novels.

The Bezzle came out great. I hope you'll give it a try – and that you'll come out to see me in late February when I hit the road with the book! Here's that Kickstarter link again:

http://thebezzle.org

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/10/the-bezzle/#marty-hench

[lev1hei1chou]

Physics Class

Dad!Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Synopsis: Gojo teaches physics to his child, and it doesn't go the way they want it to. Masterlist

It was a typical evening in the Gojo household, or so it seemed. Satoru Gojo was seated at the dining table with his teenage child and a pile of physics textbooks. His usual demeanor was replaced with a look of sheer desperation as he attempted to explain the intricacies of quantum mechanics.

"Okay, so imagine this," Gojo began, summoning his Infinity to illustrate his point. "You have a particle, and it can be in multiple places at once..."

Haru, stared blankly at his father, eyes glazed over with confusion. "But Dad, I still don't get it. How can something be in two places at the same time?"

Gojo rubbed his temples, mentally cursing the day he decided to take on the role of tutor. "Well, you see, it's like... umm... Hollow Purple!" With a flourish of his hand, he conjured the swirling vortex of energy, hoping it would somehow make the concept clearer.

Haru's expression didn't change. "It just looks like purple fog to me, Dad."

Gojo sighed dramatically. "This is harder than fighting curses," he muttered under his breath.

Suddenly, a light bulb seemed to go off in Gojo's head. "I know! Let's try a practical demonstration." Within seconds, he summoned a small rubber ball and a series of miniature black holes using his powers.

Haru's eyes widened in alarm. "Dad, are you sure this is safe?"

But before he could protest further, Gojo released the ball into the gravitational field of the black holes. Chaos ensued as the ball disappeared and reappeared in seemingly random locations.

"Dad, I think you just broke the laws of physics," Haru exclaimed, a mix of awe and terror in his voice.

Gojo chuckled nervously. "Well, umm... let's just say it's a... creative interpretation."

Despite the chaotic lesson, Haru couldn't help but smile at their father's antics. "Thanks, Dad. I still don't understand quantum mechanics, but at least I had fun trying."

Gojo grinned proudly, tousling his hair affectionately. "That's my kid. Now, let's tackle the next chapter: Kinetic Energy!"

As Gojo delved deeper into the world of teaching normal subjects, he realized that traditional methods simply weren't cutting it. So, he decided to incorporate his sorcery skills into the curriculum, much to the dismay of his teenager.

Satoru decided to demonstrate the concept of kinetic energy using his Infinity. He summoned a couple of marbles and set them rolling on the table, intending to show how their speed affected their energy.

"See, Haru, the faster the marble moves, the more energy it has," Gojo explained, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

His son nodded along, trying to follow his father's logic. But when Gojo decided to ramp up the demonstration by using his powers to increase the speed of the marbles to near-supersonic levels, chaos ensued.

The marbles careened off the table, ricocheting around the room like tiny bullets. Furniture was overturned, vases shattered, and Gojo found himself ducking for cover behind the sofa.

"Dad, I think we should stick to the textbook," Haru yelled over the chaos, dodging a marble that whizzed past his head.

Gojo emerged from his hiding spot, looking sheepish. "Right, maybe that was a bit much."

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Gojo household. The door swung open, and you walked in. You were greeted not by the usual calm ambiance of home, but by a scene of utter chaos.

"Baby, what on earth happened here?" you exclaimed, taking in the overturned furniture, cracked decorations and the faint scent of burnt rubber lingering in the air.

Your husband looked up from his haphazard pile of textbooks, relief washing over his exhausted features at the sight of his wife. "Oh, thank goodness you're here. We've had a bit of a... situation."

Your son sat at the table with tears glistening in his eyes, surrounded by scattered papers and half-hearted attempts at calculations. He looked up at his mother with a mixture of frustration and defeat.

"Mom, I just don't understand any of this. We tried so much and nothing worked," he confessed, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your heart broke at the sight of your son's distress. You crossed the room in a few quick strides, wrapping him in a comforting hug. "It's okay, sweetheart. We'll figure this out together."

Turning to Gojo, you found her husband in a state of near-panic, his usual smirk replaced by a look of sheer desperation. "Love, what's going on? Why is everything in shambles?"

Gojo ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his frustration palpable. "I've been trying to help Haru study for his physics exam, but nothing seems to be sinking in. I've tried every trick in the book, and then some my personal tricks. It didn't do much though."

You couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of your usually unflappable husband on the brink of a meltdown. "Well, why don't we take a break, and then try some different approach?."

[amywritesthings]

silver underground. | chapter 22

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 5k Summary: the past and present; levi's version Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - flashbacks, levi's pov, graphic imagery, sickness, medical conversations, panic / paranoia, mentions / canon divergence of the recently published 'bad boy' chapter (extra warnings under the cut)

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

CHAPTER 22.

note: there is a presumed major character death in this chapter. please do not read if you are not in the right headspace for this content. mental health first xo

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He can’t shake the adrenaline.

Kinetic energy thrums through his veins, destroying his focus.

For the fifth time since he returned to headquarters, Levi’s hands dip generously into the pool of ice-cold sink water in the corner of his bedroom.

His wrists flick up, quick, to splash it across his face like the whiplash sting will somehow calm the fever in his heart.

A sixth time.

A seventh.

He’ll keep going until that look on your face from the forest is wiped from his mind.

(Until he stops thinking of the before, when he wasn't enough.)

His lungs constrict as he forces himself to breathe, slow and steady, though the exhales exit like strangled gasps.

White knuckles resign themselves to the mouth of the sink as he leans in. His shoulder blades detangle themselves, sorting out the tension, while his eyes wearily stare at his reflection from the watery mirror below.

I know you, you said.

Of course you know him.

You said a long time ago you’d always know him, as if he’s an extension of your arm leading directly to the beat of your very heart.

How could I forget someone like you? you'd muse. If anything, you'd forget me.

(As if that was ever a fucking option.)

When you were just kids wasting away in the bitterness of the Underground City, you likened yourself to a shadow following Levi’s every footstep.

How could you look at yourself as a shadow when you were always the only light in his goddamn life?

You may not remember everything that's happened to you, everything that's made you, but Levi has silently volunteered to carry every burden in the interim.

Yours and his.

Up a hill, down a slope, through the mud, against raging snow — he'll carry the essence of you until you come back.

Because he was there.

For most, if not all, of it, he was there.

Twin fingers, reaching high for the stream of morning sunlight.

Shoulder to shoulder in a mess of sheets; you swore you’d never get over the sensation — the warmth of the light.

He'd never forget.

Levi would come to know warmth far better than the sun above — like the ghost of smile peppered over your lips.

He rolled over to selfishly block your view.

You were better than the goddamn sun, he'd quickly come to realize for himself.

He'd never forget.

"Can you believe there's really a world out there like this that can be real?" you murmured into the hollow of his throat as he peppered a crown of kisses against your forehead.

That the two of you could lay on a mattress easily fitting the both of you, not threatening to cave in on itself.

That you both could live this secret life, as Captain and Lieutenant, until you were old and gray.

For a second he so foolishly believed you could, too.

In comparison to the Underground, the surface could be considered paradise.

Maybe still hell on earth in its own right, sure, but at least it wasn’t a life buried in a tomb.

The vibrant green of the trees. The dirt that didn’t always stink of rot. The endless blue sky above.

Warmth was a comfort so many took for granted.

You knew. You both knew.

Caked sweat and congealed blood. Green bruises and busted lips. An abyss of gray, nothingness.

That's what he understood best.

 — especially after she died.

His mother; the first concept he had of the sun.

And for the short few years she was alive, she was radiant. 

The withering city wasn’t so bad under her wing, even if the men who berated and belittled her were. 

Levi vowed he’d grow strong enough, brave enough, to make sure one day they wouldn’t have to live in a cramped space surviving on the niceties of traded goods — bodies for money, lies for survival.

Then Kenny entered his life and everything became violent.

Bared teeth and closed fists. Selfishness and territories.

Mine, mine, mine.

Except it was all his — that bastard took every damn cent he could make off of him and then some, oftentimes working him to the bone.

(You got a meanness, boy. Meanness that can’t be taught. No, that’s deep in your blood.)

And Levi believed him.

He believed him because no matter how easy it could’ve been to lie down and die, to maybe one day see his mother at the end of his dining table again, he was fully prepared to do whatever he had to in order to survive. 

To endure. 

To come out on top and never let anyone — not even Kenny the Ripper — destroy him.

Because he had memories to hold onto. 

People.

The rest of the world may have forgotten his mother, but Levi refused.

Hell, it was his only driving force.

He might have known violence, it may have infected his blood, but he wouldn’t lose his humanity and disappoint her.

And when Kenny set him up for a betting fight, usually it was with men twice his size and triple his age.

Little kids were never on the roster, but you — you were an exception.

New, but just as ferocious.

A girl, sure, but you landed the punches on him so many others couldn’t.

He remembers the way your neck felt under his bony fingers. How your teeth clenched together. How you growled like a feral animal.

One more second of that fight and you would have been able to overtake his lead — he was too busy staring, searching.

Memorizing someone who had endured, too.

You said you were a shadow.

Levi knew shadows.

If you were a shadow, then maybe he would've ignored you.

Maybe he would have left you the hell alone.

(Because at the end of the day, all of this is his fault. The memory loss, the injuries — all of it.)

After the gun fired and the crowd scrambled, Levi couldn’t leave you well-enough alone.

He couldn’t let you find your own way in the maze of a miserable mausoleum where your bodies would eventually find peace together, perhaps even side by side.

All Levi could do was selfishly keep tabs, watch your fights, see that piece of shit you called Mother berate and harass you in the comfort of alleyways hidden from plain sight.

If you didn’t die in the rings, then chances are she would have sold you off — resigning you to live out the rest of your days like his mother.

He saw the way the world was cruel to her.

He’d be damned if he didn’t stop the world from being cruel to you.

So at the end of the day, yeah, it’s all his fault.

If he hadn’t convinced you to join his two-person operation all those years ago;

If he had pushed you harder before the final job to hate him;

If he had figured out a loophole in Erwin’s ignorance of what you are to him to push you into another division that wasn’t the goddamn Scouts, claiming disruption or inciting violence—

If, if, if—

So many possibilities, so many scenarios, where he holds your fate so selfishly against his own chest in fear of dissolving it.

Yet he was so willing to finally let you go.

To do the right thing now that you’re on the surface.

Now that you are free.

An invisible string that gleams crimson is tied to his ring finger.

It dips under the sink and snakes across the wooden floorboards of his bedroom, into the hallway, and straight to you.

If only he had caught you the first time.

If only.

.

.

.

.

.

.

  In the aftermath of falling straight to the forest floor, dust kicks up all around him, invading his lungs and choking him out.

It burns, but it doesn't deter him.

Here he has only one objective.

One goal.

“James?”

He calls your name, hoping to hear something.

Anything.

The only sound that answers is the bristle of the tree branches above.

A scene so ghastly concludes with serenity and the weightless chirps of birds.

Coughing, Levi swipes at the cloud of dirt with his hands, dropping his dulled blade to the earth.

It clunks as violently as he’s moving, scrambling to find your silhouette anywhere in this goddamn mess.

"C'mon, damn it," he growls to himself, swiping at the murky air.

One step, then another.

You can't be far.

He'd fallen down with you, trying to break both of your falls, but the momentum was far too great.

At the last second, he rolled away from you thinking you'd lean in and follow.

You did not follow.

—then he sees it.

You’re not vertical, head up and feet outstretched in a daze.

You’re horizontal, lying face-down in the dirt.

Motionless.

“James?!”

Levi repeats your name, louder this time, before nearly vomiting from how much debris he’s inhaled.

He wretches, arm wrapped around his stomach, teeth grit.

He manages to get ahold of himself, to stave off the sickness, before he drops to the ground and crawls to you on hands and knees like a child.

“James, hey—”

The world stops, then and there.

You don't move. You don't respond.

His hand halts in a hover over your body, painfully aware that he cannot pull you upright carelessly.

It's so quiet down here.

Quiet, as if...

Slowly his watering eyes widen, his mind going to the place where logic can follow.

“...James,” he murmurs, voice dissolving. 

He decides to then scoop the once-hovering hand to inch it under your wrapped emerald cloak. His other hand cradles the back of your neck, mindful of the worst case scenario.

The sickening heaviness of your body greets him as he turns you over, carefully, to find your lips parted and eyes closed.

He can't tell if you're breathing.

You look like you're sleeping.

No.

No, this isn't what it looks like.

“James, shit, wake up—”

His words crack, throat dry.

“Wake up.”

Louder this time, like anger might jolt you.

Where he goes, you’re meant to follow. 

You’ll follow his voice. You’ll follow it and you’ll wake up and he’ll never forget how you scared the living shit out of him.

(Even if he will eventually forgive you for dedicating your fucking heart to a cause you didn’t even believe in.)

Logic battles with emotion.

Reality fights with fate.

Cradling the back of your head with immense care, Levi takes action and head ducks to press against your chest, desperate to find —

There.

It’s faint, but a heartbeat is still there.

“Don't do this,” he pleads under his breath. “Don’t you up and fucking quit on me now. I know you can hear me.”

The wheeze of overworked gear flies past his head in a semi-circle.

Several boots land to his west, hasty in their descent.

Luckily his head is turned to the east.

(He can hide the growing terror from his squad. He can buy himself more time to harness his panic and push it away.)

“Captain?” It’s Eld, wasting no time to rush over. He hears the quick taps of his boots running right for him. “Captain, what the hell happened?”

“James?!” Petra yelps, and he can hear Oluo gasp with finality.

No.

No, you aren’t dying.

Not today. Not tomorrow.

“Wait, don’t,” Gunther interjects suddenly.

Levi assumes it’s to keep the rest of the squad back from crowding the scene.

The blonde scout drops to his knees beside his captain, panting heavily. Levi can smell the stench of sweat and exertion radiating from his uniform.

“Captain Levi,” Eld urges once more.

“We have to get her back to the Walls," he forces himself to say, voice steady.

Levi lifts his head with practiced precision.

He meets Eld's worried gaze with a deadened stare.

"Is she...?"

"Her heartbeat is faint," Levi answers the question Eld doesn't have to finish, "but it’s there.”

Eld's face falls.

Levi hates it.

I just said it's there, damn it. Don't consider her dead. Don't.

“She saved us!”

A meek voice peeks out from behind Eld's back.

Levi Squad turns in unison — a well-oiled machine built for crisis — to find Miro Squad riding to the clearing with the extra horses.

The entire squad looks haunted, worse for wear, but they still stayed.

They still fought to the bitter end.

Like true Scouts.

Miro hops off of their horse, running over to the group first.

“Several titans attacked us. If it wasn't for the Lieutenant, we would have all been eaten alive. Please, if we can help in any way, we owe her.”

They bow as one of the other shaken Scouts pulls Levi's horse by the reins from around the back of the formation.

“Sir, Scout Rini is a doctor," Miro continues.

“A doctor?” Oluo blurts incredulously. “Out here? In the field?”

“Formerly a doctor,” Rini anxiously states while dismounting from his horse, "before I joined the cause. I — I would say I could treat her here, but there’s nothing I can do. Too much blood loss. If we can get her inside the Walls—”

“Are we going to keep wasting time talking?” Levi growls, glaring daggers at the rest of the group. “I’m not letting her bleed the hell out. Help me get her on my horse.”

No one hesitates.

Both squads rush to his aid, lifting you with utmost care.

Twenty pairs of hands and ten bodies working in tandem to make sure they don’t jostle your neck or hurt your spine.

The captain only lets go of you to hoist himself up on his black stallion, before bringing you close to his body in a side-saddle.

He can ride one-armed and keep you steady.

He refuses to believe otherwise. 

Because Levi sees it on their faces — beyond the faintest breath against his hand, there’s next to no indicators that you’ll survive.

But they don’t know you.

Not like he knows you.

“Don’t you die on me,” he murmurs against the crown of your head, lips close enough to count as a kiss.

Then he’s off.

He speeds off like a bullet on his horse, crouching over with his jaw so clenched he can feel his teeth nearly cracking.

Forward. His only goal is to push forward — past the trees, past the old villages, and doesn’t stop to look back.

“You’re not allowed to die.”

From this distance the other won't be able to hear, but you might. So he keeps talking.

Come back to me.

“Still got all that shit you wanted to do up here, right? You remember that?”

Levi wishes you could answer.

He wants to believe you would if you could.

“You still gotta get those dumbass cats of yours. You know how many of those filthy things are on the streets? You can fill an entire fucking house for all I care.”

Anything.

He’ll do anything, at this point.

“Didn’t give me a chance to… to find a damn house, to figure everything out—”

A whole world left to discover.

(You asked for his last name. A last name worth nothing, yet somehow it still held something for you. God damn it, he’d give you that last fucking name in every lifetime so long as he could still keep you in this one.)

He stops speaking when Gunther and Eld take it upon themselves to push their horses to their limits, flying past him.

They surge forward in their journey to the nearing Walls, determined to carve a seamless entrance for Levi to enter. 

Eld leans back and holds an arm up high, shooting off a red flare for the Garrison Regiment stationed at the perimeter to see:

Danger.

(Once they reached the gates, they could explain everything. A red flare is enough for now.)

Flicking his wrist to snap the reins, his horse picks up the pace and gallops harder.

Levi pulls you into his chest, ignoring the tremble in his limbs.

From fear or adrenaline. 

From both.

“We have an injured Scout, but she’s still alive!” Eld shouts to the Garrison Regiment above with an urgency Levi’s never heard from the typically stoic man. “We need a wagon and medics, now!”

Between the flare and Eld’s command, the action is already set in motion.

The gears churn, slowly opening the large stone gate just enough for humans to clear in passing. 

Eld and Gunther are first.

Levi, not far after. 

The others, including Miro Squad, arrive seconds later.

Several Garrison soldiers pull up to the gate with a wagon suitable for approximately eight, maybe ten people.

Levi continues to hold you protectively to his chest as they prepare, cradling your neck with the utmost care.

One false move and the light goes out. 

(He knows how easy it is to take a human life.)

“Levi!”

He hears the wail of Hange’s voice in the midst of the panic.

His eyes search for them in the commotion, body stonelike, only to spy their unruly ponytail flying in the wind — with Moblit not far behind.

And...

Commander Erwin?

The tall blonde causes the crowd to divide in half, shoulders adorned with the Scout emeralds.

Hange and Moblit look just as horrified as he feels.

They run right up to the side of his horse calling your name, but their voices are all but mumbles to him.

Not when Erwin’s eyes bore into his.

Although the commander's expression is one of stone, Levi can sense what Erwin wants to say.

Unspoken deja vu; they’ve seen how this played out before.

Except this time, Levi has you in one piece.

He made it back this time.

He didn't forsake you.

(And he isn’t letting a titan take you from him. Not like Isabel. Not like Furlan.)

“Levi, what happened?!”

Hange rips him out of his trance, bringing him back to gruesome reality.

Medics finally arrive on the scene. Below him he can see Scout Rini directing them, immediately stepping back into his former occupation with ease.

On the sidelines, the remainder of Miro Squad huddles together.

Eyes watery and body trembling, some cry into their hands.

Some hide their faces in the shoulders of their comrades.

She’s not dead yet, he wants to snap at them. Don’t act like she’s gone. Not yet.

(If he repeats it enough, then can he make the impossible true?)

“She played hero, that’s what fucking happened," Levi seethes after he manages to find his voice, forcing it not to crack. "Saved a goddamn squad on her own against orders. She needs a doctor. I don’t know—”

“They need to take her, Levi,” Hange interrupts with an understanding softness in their tone. “Let her go.”

The captain’s under eye trembles.

“I’m going with her on the—”

“You will,” Hange promises, nodding quickly, “but you have to let her go so they can start working — before it’s too late.”

They're right.

The medics are waiting, just on the other side to receive her.

Slowly Levi unfurls his arms, one by one, and helps gently transfer you to the people he's entrusting your life to.

As soon as you're off of his lap, however, Levi swivels his legs off of his horse to follow suit.

Hange’s eyes widen as he dismounts, but Levi’s too busy watching them set you down in a sea of blankets and gauze. 

“Levi, your shirt. It’s…”

Briefly he turns his chin to glance up at his comrade, registering what they're saying before looking down:

Maroon.

Deep, deep maroon.

His once-white button down is stained with a mixture of grimy dirt and blood.

“It isn’t mine," is all he can think of saying back.

Hange's expression shifts in seconds, a certain slant of pity he hates witnessing.

He doesn't have the energy to fight Hange, Erwin, any of them.

Not when he has to get to you.

He has to stay with you no matter what.

With that statement lingering in the air, Levi abandons Hange to trudge over to the wagon. In one swift motion, the captain hops over the siding of the transport.

His knees fall just above your head, settling in place for the ride to the hospital.

Most of the medics are too busy ripping up your uniform to check for deep gashes and broken bones, documenting them as they gear up to leave, but a few glance at Levi with uncomfortable shock.

Then one brave soul speaks.

“Sir, we’ll need you to stay back.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Levi firmly states.

“But it—”

“The wagon fits ten. If you have a problem with it, we can talk later. She's on my squad.”

She's my responsibility, damn it, and I'm failing her.

The wagon dips once again in newfound weight, and a pair of knees come into view.

On the other side of James’ head rests Hange.

“I’m going, too," Hange states firmly.

Levi can feel his expression smoothing, one of reluctant gratitude.

He catches the sentiment, buries the emotion down his throat, and drops his chin to focus on James.

“C’mon, c’mon!" they shout to the medics for him. "Let’s go! We can't waste anymore time, damn it!”

With Hange’s order, the wagon takes off. 

In the initial jolt, Levi abruptly reaches both of his bloodied palms to rest on either side of your head, keeping it in place as the horses run the wagon to the Trost hospital.

The medics and Doctor Rini continue working amongst themselves, with Hange on the ledge observing.

Seconds feel like hours.

It's agony.

“We’re almost there,” he murmurs under his breath, to you and you alone. “Just a little longer, alright? We’re in the Walls. You went back and saved almost an entire squad by yourself, you overachieving piece of shit. So don’t give up now, damn it. Keep fighting.”

Despite not being alone this time, the captain is unwilling to stop talking for a single moment.

He can sense Hange’s eyes boring down the back of his neck, but he doesn’t care for decorum.

He doesn’t give a shit if this brings more questions at his front door.

This may be your last few moments with him.

So he won’t leave.

(He never left Mom, and he sure as fuck isn’t leaving you.)

“She’ll need extensive surgery.” 

A rogue murmur catches his attention.

When Levi looks up, he sees one of the medics addressing the doctor scout. Gravity brings a grimace to her face. 

A second medic frowns. “Do you think she’s going to—”

“Don’t say it,” Rini replies softly. “What she needs is our undivided attention. This is a Lieutenant of the Scouts, and she saved my life. Treat her life as your highest priority.”

Levi decides to say nothing.

There is nothing to be said — no argument will change the outcome.

As the wagon finally arrives at Trost medical, they’re received by staff with a gurney.

They begin prepping you to be transferred, but—

In a flurry, Hange gasps and leaps out of their seat to fiddle with your neck.

The sudden touch completely throws him off, causing him to protectively curl around you.

“The hell are you doing?”

“Her necklace, Levi,” Hange swiftly states, their own voice shaking. “The doctors could break it during surgery. You know she’d never let us live it down if they destroy it.”

His heart seizes.

Hange’s act of kindness isn’t lost on him.

You loved that damn thing. 

No, you love.

You’re still there.

It isn’t just a mere memory yet.

Belatedly nodding, the dark-haired man clears his throat. "Yeah, she'd be pissed."

"I thought so," Hange exhales, finally detaching the clasps.

It's the first time he's seen you without it since you were teenagers.

(Doesn't look right, being off your neck like that.)

Eventually the medics successfully transfer you to the awaiting gurney.

Without another word to Hange or himself, the team dedicating to saving your life run into the building.

Everything was a flurry until there was nothing.

Silence.

Levi’s shoulders slump as he’s forced to watch you disappear from his sight.

There wasn’t a chance to save Furlan or Isabel.

They’d been destroyed, limb from limb, before he could stop it from happening.

He’d managed to get you this far, but…

Now it was out of his hands.

His fists clench, determined to keep your blood close, protected, in his palms.

(Helpless.)

“Do you want to hold it for her?”

Hange’s voice enters his mind as he slowly turns his chin, blue-grey eyes finding the taller scout frowning.

Their eyes are glassy in a way he refuses.

Mourning.

Slowly they extend their arm, unfurling their fingers.

A lump forms in the middle of his throat at the sight of the glittering silver in their palm, the pendant still just as beautiful as the day you accepted his gift.

“Keep it, Four Eyes, and give it back to her when she wakes up.”

(If he touches it, then you might actually disappear. He already possesses enough keepsakes from the dead with a self-inflicted burden to carry them all. The world may have forgotten them, but he hasn’t. He won’t.)

“Levi…”

“She’s going to live, Hange.” 

Whether he says it to convince Hange or himself, Levi doesn’t know. Perhaps it’s for both of them.

He knows how much they adore you.

He’s no stranger to the fact that you’ve made your own home outside of him — they love you as much as he loves you.

“She’s a fighter. Always been once, ever since we were kids.”

The lack of shock in Hange’s gaze makes him wonder how much you’ve told them about the two of you.

“She’ll fight tooth and nail to get the hell back here.”

“I know she will,” Hange laments.

A blanket of silence envelops them as they continue to wait for any news outside of the hospital, together.

The longer he waits, the closer he feels to being ten years old again.

Alone.

So fucking along and so goddamn terrified to wait for the truth.

Because it’s either one or the other.

You live, or your story ends.

Levi inhales, holding his breath.

And holds.

And holds, childishly wishing it could be enough for the both of you.

Like if he doesn’t let go until you gasp for life, then he can save you.

He can keep you.

.

.

.

.

.

.

  He finally exhales, giving in to the collapse of his shoulders.

He can’t save you, just as much as he can’t keep you.

Levi knows this.

He’s known it since the second you woke up in that hospital bed without an ounce of warmth in those eyes of yours.

That was when he made his choice to leave you be, to give you a running shot at the life the two of you had always talked about.

He thought one day was grueling.

Impossible.

One day became one week.

One week into months.

He stayed away, but at what cost?

He hasn’t slept right in this bed.

He barely eats.

He opts to show his face at the mess hall with his standard cup of black tea to keep up the appearances.

If the real you died that day, then he was certain he died right alongside you.

Now, within six agonizing months, you’ve saved yourself — chose yourself — to still somehow end up right back where he left you.

(That kiss, tattooed with the permanence of the loss of you, still burns his lips from yesterday.)

You might remember.

You might know who you really are.

You might know him.

The sink below rattles.

It takes a second, but when he shifts his dissociative stare to his thumb, he notes the tremble.

He grips tighter, squeezing, before giving up. He pushes away from it altogether, cradling his forearm to suppress it himself. 

Focus.

Find your sanity and ease it back.

Maybe you won’t say what he wants to hear, but he promised like a fool.

Don’t push me away. Don’t shut me out.

I won't, he promised. I’ll never.

Hearing the horses whinny to a halt outside, he scrubs his face with his hand and chooses to turn on a heel to stalk towards the door.

He’ll scope out how everyone’s doing, make a cup of tea, mull all this shit over—

Then he opens his door to your face.

You stand before him, hand raised like you were about to knock.

Frozen in time just like he feels.

James.

Levi can’t feign indifference when he stares back at you, not when it’s almost unsettling how much more… you, you look right now. 

Life radiates from a dead body. You’re not apologetic in getting caught, just apologetic that you nearly slammed the knuckles of your fist into his face.

For a moment, there’s silence. 

He can hear the other scouts talking amongst themselves downstairs.

And before he can say a word, you speak.

“Can we please—”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t let you finish.

There’s no reason.

Rip the bandage off the congealed blood.

Call it a day, if he is meant to lose it all.

His hand extends the door on its hinge, inviting space for you.

“Yeah, might as well.”

You step in, and Levi prepares for the worst.

.

author's note: a lot of you had asked for levi's pov on the events that went down, and i've been waiting to get his side of the story.

thank you for reading the final few chapters of this journey. you are all so very wonderful for the encouragement, the engagement, etc. on both here and ao3. i hope all of my rebloggers have a good night's sleep and a little treat; you are the soul of this story.

[joshslater]

Fender Bender

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He's frozen like a deer in the headlights, almost literally. Bet he can see the damn truck now! Well, at least the light bar, drenching him and the side of the road my truck faces. His wreck of a car is somewhere in the darkness behind us, taking a much bigger part of the kinetic energy with it once our vehicles collided.

He doesn't remember that. He doesn't remember climbing out of his car in the ditch, screaming profanities and homophobic slurs at me, and waving a bat around in some attempt to scare me. What did he think? To scare me into giving him a lift back to town? Too late to ask him any of that now, newly minted fuckboi that he is, vacantly staring into the light, mind wiped clean. At least for now.

"Pull up your shirt and show me what you got," I tell him. Without question, or any hint of mental capacity of any kind, he complies, showing off his smooth, toned abs hidden beneath his silky polyester track top. His designer underwear is riding low, showing off his cum gutters and where his pubes would have been if he wasn't shaved smooth everywhere below the nose. Quite the change from the hairy gut his button-down cotton shirt strained to contain. Am I overreacting by turning a middle-aged middle manager into a vacuous slutty twink just because he accidentally attempted vehicular manslaughter and then aggressively lashed out due to stress-induced panic?

Nah, fuck him. We both could have died, had I been mortal. This is his reincarnation. Besides, it's not like he will remain a mindless automaton for long. His old self will start to seep in, a bit of consciousness there, some memories there. In a few weeks he'll be the same soul as he was before, within the constraints of his new body, hormones, urges, and mental capacity of course.

"That's enough. Get in the truck." Getting a young, hot body isn't really a punishment, but I want to make the world prettier than I found it. Getting dick in all orifices isn't a punishment either. Some people would even consider it heaven, especially someone with a body that reacts to it as his does. I know of several places I can dump him where there are a bunch of men who'd love someone like him. Someone who won't say no to anything. Not for a few days at least. Then, as his old self slowly wakes up in his new situation, he'll have to make the decision to leave heaven or confront his bigotry. There's the punishment.

[moongreenlight]

I will never stop comparing all the 141 boys to dogs in my fics. Unfortunately I am unable. Thanks but no thanks. Wdym they’re not a pack of strays? Wydm ‘pack’ mentality doesn’t directly translate? Literally what are you not understanding?

Wdym Price isn’t an Anatolian shepherd? Bred specifically to be a guardian of livestock? His life’s purpose is to defend? He instinctually knows how to keep the structure of the pack intact? Pointed corrections made by a bite to the throat or baring his teeth that may seem drastic to some, but his herd understands that it’s a necessary evil? Gentile giant to those who he’s serving for and with but an apex predator to anyone else?

Wdym Gaz isn’t a border collie who learned how to herd from Price? Follows in his footsteps by quickly learning to nip at the heels of stragglers to keep them in line? Loves learning new tricks because he’s agile and always needing stimulation? Insatiable need to work and see tasks through not only well but to be the best that’s ever been?

Wdym Soap isn’t a Belgian malinois? Snapping his jaws and vibrating with kinetic energy that’s just begging to be harnessed and used to his handler’s aid? Wicked smart and playful until he’s instructed to work? Needs constant attention and supervision and structure in order to reach his full potential? Quite literally sniffs out trouble and offers his full dedication to stomping out the problem? Competitive and destructive until his efforts are focused on something more productive? Needs a firm hand to be his motivating force?

Wdym Ghost isn’t a Doberman? Forced into a dogfighting ring and set loose to the streets by a group of well-meaning protesters like that was any better? Cropped ears and docked tail and freckled with scars where fur won’t grow? Conditioned by years of trauma to immediately bare his teeth and snarl to project a vicious front if made uncomfortable? Who’s rehabilitated into something much more palatable by the structure of a pack?

What do you mean dude?

[queenie-official]

✨🐚 Sandy Love 🐚✨

main masterlist word count: 2171

pairing: modern!Anakin skywalker x reader

summary: beach day with Anakin 🏖️

a/n: everyone say thank you @everydaydreamer for getting me to come back and write again 🤭 added a extra scene at the end just for you pookie ☺️

“why are we doing this?" you heard Anakin question from somewhere behind you as you dug around the bag in front of you, mentally adding items to your list of things to bring. sunscreen, extra water bottles, and your sunglasses.

you smile, turning on your heels as you respond "Because it's gonna be fun." he has his arms crossed, a frown adorning his face. to an outsider he probably looked furious but you knew better, you could see the soft look in his eyes despite the forced furrow in his brow.

"We both hate sand" he grumbles and you huff continuing with your task to distract yourself from the fact he's completely right.

placing the final items in your bag you defend your plan "yea but I always liked building sandcastles." you're about to grab the handles of the beach bag but Anakin quickly swoops in.

"We could do that here with kinetic sand- which by the way is way softer than actual sand" he retorts not even close to being convinced by you.

you glare at him, reaching forward to grab the bag back but he holds it out of your reach. "we don't have access to unlimited sea shells at home" you state whilst fighting him for the bag- or well attempting to. the height difference you two have proving to be a disadvantage on your end.

"we have access to literally unlimited everything else" he says with a roll of his eyes holding you back with one hand, pathetic really. you know how strong he is compared to you but it never really clicks until moments like this.

"What about the ocean?" you argue maneuvering under his arm quickly throwing him off guard and just as you're about to grab the bag he tosses it back onto the bed.

"you can't swim" he says plainly grabbing your arms and pulling you into his chest, trapping you in a hug before you can go after the bag.

"I can float!" you shout frustratedly, squirming in his hold to try and get him to release you which only makes him hold you tighter. you groan slumping against his chest in defeat.

"you can do that in a pool" he says with a smug smile thinking he's won, but as soon as he loosens his hold you break free. rushing over to the bed and grabbing the beach bag triumphantly.

"come on it's gonna be great, you've already got your swim trunks on" you give him a smug smile of your own.

Anakin had agreed to go with you before even processing what you'd asked, always ready to go anywhere you wanted to. today was the day that backfired on him because as soon as he got dressed and saw you packing a bag as he exited the bathroom, reality caught up with him. the fact of the matter was you'd ask to go to the beach not hang in his pool.

"i can't believe i even agreed to this" he groaned dramatically while running his hands down his face.

you frown growing tired of his negative attitude "you know if you're gonna keep complaining i can just call Padme and go with her."

Anakin lights up at that idea, smiling brightly as he plops down onto the bed putting his arms behind his head "that's a great idea, glad we've come to a compromise."

your jaw drops slightly your brain kicking into hyperdrive "what! no i was-" you cut yourself off taking a breath. "i wanna go with you Ani not Padme" you say sincerely, pouting as you look down at where he now lays.

there's a brief silence as you stare at each other and his smile falls caving with a sigh that makes yours grow "Oh alright, it's a good thing you're cute."

"Yes!!" you jump causing the beach bag to slightly tug on your shoulder from the action, but you continue your victory celebration "To the beach!" you sing while happily dancing your way out of the room.

"you're so weird" Anakin snorts just loud enough for you to hear before you're fully out.

"is it everything you wanted?" Anakin asks as soon as you both step foot onto the sandy beach, the grainy sand immediately making home in your sandals as you walk.

you can't help but grimace making your sunglasses move up with the scrunch of your nose. the feeling was almost immediately too much as you involuntarily replied "and worse" under your breath.

Anakin cranes his neck slightly, his face now directly in front of yours with a quirked brow "what was that?" he asks with his own sunglasses sliding slightly down his nose. at first you thought he'd heard you and was just being a smart ass like usual, but the lack of a smug smile on his face and the wind blowing in your ears mixed with the seagulls squawking reassured you that was not the case.

biting your tongue and putting on your best smile you answer "i said it's better, the sand isn't even that bad." you dig your feet into the sand a little more and gesture down for him to see to emphasize your point. "how about for you?"

Anakin rolls his eyes not buying your facade but he doesn't poke back. "i want to be anywhere else but here" he retorts lifting his leg up slightly, and shaking his foot to clear his sandals of the sand with a look of pure disgust on his face. "so yea id say the same as always for me" he pushes his sunglasses up his face with a sigh.

"oh come on it's not that bad" you say unsure whether or not you were trying more to convince him or yourself.

"mmm, debatable- we're just building the sandcastle and leaving right?" he asks with a sigh as he starts to walk further into the beach. he looks briefly behind himself to see you with your feet planted in the same spot. in all honesty, you were contemplating turning right around and marching back to the parked car but that would mean admitting he was right.

Anakin stuck his hand out shaking it a little, silently calling you over to take hold. the action made you genuinely smile as you jogged right on up to him- briefly able to ignore the horrible feeling of sand squishing between your toes. "yea just the sandcastle" you say while lacing your fingers with his.

it hadn't even been an hour yet since you had arrived but gods did it feel like it.

you'd spent the first fifteen minutes just gathering seashells to decorate your sandcastle with, which was fine up until you had to sit down to build it.

now here you both were with sand quite literally everywhere.

Anakin had stopped helping you the second he sat down, his mood souring again almost instantly. you couldn't even blame him. if you weren't trying to prove him wrong that would have been your final straw as well, instead you persevered.

you were just about finished when Anakin let out his fifth disgruntled sigh within the last five minutes "are you done yet?"

"will you stop being so negative" you huff, placing another shell around the base of your top tower. he all but groans, running his hands through his hair only to instantly regret his actions when he can feel every grain of sand on his scalp.

"maybe, if there wasn't sand in places where sand shouldn't be i-" he started, speaking through gritted teeth before you cut him off. placing your final shell on the very top as the finishing touch.

"okay i get it, let's just wash off in the ocean really quick, then we can leave" you stand up, wiping your hands clean with an annoyed look on your face. as always Anakin notices immediately despite the fact you refused to meet his eyes, opting to look at the rise and fall of the tides.

"well now i don't want to" he sighs, standing up and brushing himself off as well. you look over at him with your brow raised in confusion. you didn't even say anything before he answered your unspoken question, "you're gonna be all mopey."

"no im not" you say with a roll of your eyes, crossing your arms in denial but the pout on your lips contradicts your words.

"you're already doing it right now" he points out as you slump forward letting your arms fall to your sides. you wanted to leave as much as he did, however the reality of the fact you'd just wasted so much time in a place neither of you enjoyed just happened to settle in at that moment.

"i wanted this to be more fun" you say sincerely and Anakin can't help but soften. he pulls you into his arms rubbing your back in gentle circles, this usually soothed you but currently all you could focus on was the layer of sand that stood between your skin and where his hand was.

you cringe, shrugging his hands off causing him to frown. overstimulation was starting to settle in, which was clear from the look on your face. "you're hating this as much as i am aren't you?" he asked with a knowing smile.

"from the second we stepped foot on the beach and i felt the sand go between my toes" you cave just ready to leave.

"i knew it!" he shouts, throwing his arms up in victory.

you playfully shove him "yea yeah you were right." he places his hand over his chest in mock offense making you giggle. he drops the act with another smile, leaning over and pressing a kiss right to your cheek.

"i have an idea on how to turn this day around." he says while walking towards the ocean so you both can wash off as much sand as you can.

"how are you feeling?" he asks before taking a sip of a cold cola, leaning back where he is sat and adjusting his sunglasses.

"like we should have just done this from the beginning" you confess, turning your head so your view was no longer constricted from the flamingo pool floaty you were sitting in.

you can see the smug smile on his face as he places the can of soda down, pushing his sunglasses onto the top of his head before swimming over to you. "don't say it" you mumble.

"i didn't say anything" he defends himself, holding onto the side of your floaty.

"you were about to" you point an accusing finger at him and he gently smacks your hand away.

"but i didn't" he counters, moving back slightly before you can push him away.

as if that would stop you, moving your arm back you straighten your hand out and push forward splashing him with a bunch of water.

Anakin doesn't back down, moving back towards you while ignoring the fact his sunglasses fell off and were now sinking to the bottom of his pool. he shakes the water out of his hair all over you.

you both laugh, moods much brighter than before. "this is nice" you smile and Anakin smiles back, resting his head on your floaty right next to your thigh.

there's a comfortable silence before Anakin lets out an annoyed groan. "god there's so much sand in my car."

you can’t help but give him a awkward pity smile "sorry."

(bonus scene)

pushing up from the bottom of the pool and emerging from the water right next to where Anakin is wading comfortably, you smile at him whilst clinging to the wall of the pool. "Ani, wanna play mermaids?"

his brows knit together in confusion unsure if he heard you right "what?"

"do you wanna play mermaids?" you ask again, watching his face contort as he practically winces.

"why would i want to do that?" he says with a shudder. sometimes you can't even tell who's more dramatic than the other, but currently Anakin is taking the cake.

"because it's fun and we haven't played it since we were little" you plead, putting on your best puppy-dog eyes.

"with good reason and you can't even swim, what kind of mermaid can't swim" he quips.

"i can swim underwater! and mermaids don't need air to breathe so it works out" you shout your defense, you'd splash him with water but you would have to let go of the pool wall for that and you were way too far in the deep end for that.

"you're going to have to come up for air at some point-" he begins to clap back but you cut him off tired of fighting.

"okay i'm not gonna argue logistics with you, so do you wanna play mermaids with me or not" you grumble, but immediately brighten up when he lets out a defeated sigh.

"only if i get water manipulation powers" he states before you guys begin.

"deal.”

🌝umm hi guys, been awhile fr- be honest did yall think i died 😭? anyway i thought it made sense to work on my summer drafts i made last year now that it’s summer again ✨ so there will be more of these i promise 🙏 swear i won’t disappear for like a year again, this time it’s just a week because i’m going on vacation 💃

love you all 💋💋 and let me know what you think! i’ve missed reading your comments 😌

[succulentlesbians]

Daisy’s Powers (analysis + extensions)

Things that Daisy can canonically do with her powers (non-exhaustive):

- shake objects around her (earth, glass, guns) causing them to become unstable and break (primarily unconsciously done due to high emotions and without her arms) (also can do it on purpose (“I moved a mountain,” destroying the shrike) but still without arms)

- shoot waves of vibrations (primarily through her arms although we do see it coming from her whole body in s7) (she can also build these up to make them more powerful)

- tune into specific frequencies and match her vibrations to those frequencies (making glasses sing, holding open the portal) (by brain power)

- absorb earthquakes/energy (the bomb, koras energy) (mostly with help of her gauntlets) (through arms)

- manipulate water (making it swirl) (by concentration)

- sense the structure of items (jemma having bones vs being a robot) (somehow through a wave of vibration?)

- enhanced hearing (heard the monolith when others didn’t) (unconscious)

Her powers are described as being able to tap into vibrations (“the ability to sense the various frequency vibrations in her environment and manipulate them”).

I would say that her abilities are split into three categories: unconscious, by thought, and by channeling.

TLDR; I theorize on science and Daisy’s ability to create longitudinal waves, influence frequencies, and increase atomic/molecular energy in expressing her powers.

Her unconscious abilities are the ones where she just knows shit, like what frequency stuff is at. I don’t believe these can really be changed or added too.

By thought are ones where she doesn’t visibly have her powers coming out of her arms. There are multiple occasions where she naturally explodes things. Sometimes she still raises her arms, but I think that’s more of a crutch than a requirement.

Finally her channeling is what actually goes through her arms. This causes her pain if it’s done too much because while her body is reportedly built for her powers, it can still only take so much.

There’s some mixing between the categories that’s confusing. Sometimes she can vibrate things by thought. Sometimes she has to use her arms.

IMO, what she needs her arms for is projecting vibrations, ie not just making it vibrate more but actually pushing air around to create the effect. Everything else she should be able to concentrate and tap into (If we are permitting her to be OP as hell outside of a story’s context).

Things that Daisy could maybe do with her powers (some mine, some general fanon takes):

- mentally do everything except concussive blasts/waves of force.

- channel through other limbs

- learn what different vibrations mean and actually associate them with materials/actions (ie oh that’s a gun vs an icer) (includes identifying heat, heartbeats, movements)

- heat/cool things (increasing kinetic energy, heat is just atoms moving faster)

- explode things more often. why does she do this so little?? (explode -> shake them apart, give so much kinetic energy that the molecular bonds are broken)

- create/amplify/stop sound waves (her vibrational pushes should be longitudinal waves. Sound waves are also longitudinal. Canonically she’s attuned to sounds already. This makes total sense. Her vibrations already come with that billowing sound effect that must be her natural frequency. If she could change that, she can make different sounds. Boom.)

- cause radiation? if she could make an atom to become unstable and split apart…

- in terms of light… I’m split on this. Light is not a longitudinal wave, it’s transverse (wave motion is perpendicular rather than parallel to the particle motion) and so I wouldn’t say that Daisy would be able to impact light necessarily. However, light does have frequencies that correspond to colors/wavelengths (for the parts outside the visible). So if we were truly taking an OP daisy, she might be able to influence the color of things etc by changing the frequency of light?

If we accept this, it opens up huge possibilities. Being able to see heat in the dark bc she changes the infrared to red. Stopping radio transmissions. Never getting skin cancer because she won’t let UV light hit her. Etc. light is a huge spectrum. I’m sure I’m not even thinking of a fraction of the possibilities.

However I feel like this specifically would be really hard too because light (like radio waves) is passing around us constantly. So being able to isolate it would be crazy hard.

Anyway. Her powers are crazy and I like physics so it’s a good thought project.

[apainintheasgardiansoul]

"Gambit's normal powers are also severely amplified powers. His ability to kinetically charge items gets a boost, turning it into a 'Death Charge.' This means when items he's powered up hit their target, instead of exploding, they break down living matter and disintegrate the victim. His cards can even be controlled mentally, enabling them to find their targets even if the victims attempt to dodge them." X-Men: How Apocalypse Turned Gambit Into His Horseman (x)

I'd be lying if I say that I don't want to watch this getting animated bc bruh that would be hella cool 🔥🔥

[copperpipes]

Ultraman spec bio part 4 (first part/previous part)

spacium energy:

I have been treating spacium energy like a substance despite it not really being one, so I want to pack some headcanons about how exactly it would act and classfie.

Spacium energy is visible by the human naked eye, can solidify into different shapes but stays flexible until released, it emits photons, a particle that's very light and very fast, and it is blue.

The blue color is usually an indicator of temperature, it is a relatively light blue color so this puts it at about 10,000+ kelvin (9726.85°C or 17540.33°F), so pretty hot. As we figured out, spacium is a very good isolator, whether its a metal or not is still a question i don't want to deal with (it is of a metallic color, reflective, but not necessarily a metal and still alien in origin) what we know is that outside energies wouldn’t be able to harm an Ultra, and the Ultra’s inside energy is also protected from inside and out. through their skin is where Ultras get their energy from, it comes from the sun in either solar rays or heat or whatever is available (electric energy, radiation, all kinds of deadly lasers yum) which is why an explosion wouldn’t kill an ultra, the only thing that would be a threat to them is the explosion’s kinetic energy. 

spacium energy is seen on the visible spectrum, but other than that what else can be told about this energy?

what’s it doing in there:

probably bounces off the walls, literally. 

Energy moves in waves, and when it's produced by the membrane of the ultra it is ejected off the walls inside, and it cannot escape (cannot come out!! MAMA!!), so it bounces off the walls. When the energy is directed out, it gains speed thanks to the narrow space in the ultra’s arms and when it comes out as a beam it is subsequently much more concentrated, with very destructive wavelengths similar to gamma rays in intensity, and very hot. 

changing sizes:

I am not talking about mass here and where it goes, I'm talking about what causes Ultraman’s energy levels to drop or shoot up for one reason or another, not about outcome but about cause.

by Ultraman: rising (which is what i'm doing this whole thing for) how much an ultra can last is dependent on their mental state rather than thinning energy reserves like in what i got from other ultra sources.

I wanted to try and combine the two. I want Ultraman’s energy to be an issue, one that doesn't allow to transform at any comfortable moment, that demands the Ultra to know their state and capabilities to ensure no sudden shrinkage.

releasing energy once in a while should also be important, otherwise if an ultra is too full of energy their movements may become stiff and uncomfortable until some energy is released.

why would an ultra involuntarily shrink/why would a color timer be triggered:

-a failsafe mechanism. an ultra in distress/ a scared or stressed ultra, like all living creatures is a dangerous one. removing the ultra to where they can’t harm their environment would ensure its wholeness and the ultra’s sanity. This point acknowledges the power that all ultras naturally possess and that can bring a lot of damage if not controlled.

-low energy reserves.

Actually, what does a color timer even do other than be an indicator?

In canon it's all that is, an indicator, but what if it was what allowed ultras to shapeshift and change sizes in the first place? knowing what they have done, they're probably technologically advanced enough for that to be plausible. when your race is suddenly turned into giants, everything they built probably stayed small, made to fit their size before they grew. 

Returning the ultras to their original size would be easier than rebuilding society, not to mention resources. so maybe they made a device that allowed them to switch between their old, smaller form, and their new natural giant one.

The catch is that they can't stay in their small form forever, because even small, their bodies naturally produce spacium energy, and from time to time it has to be released or else they could literally explode from the pressure. 

maybe some ultras even prefer their bigger size despite the inconveniences. After all, such a drastic change could eliminate or generate so many problems!

For example space travel and travel in general would become a lot less complicated and exisible, for as long as there’s energy hunger wouldn't be a problem anymore, and so much more!

Of course, it's not without cons as well, like population density and resource demand to name a couple, but I guess the population could just spread over a larger territory to solve those problems. we shouldn't forget the Ultra’s destructive potential as well :>

Next, part 5