this is his son - he literally thinks of jake as a son. and that son, whom he’s mentored and nurtured for four full seasons, through defiance over ties and even a stint in witness protection, has been unfairly convicted of a crime holt *knows* he didn’t commit because he was trying to help him make the bust. now that son, a damn good cop according to everyone who knows him, is going to prison. his prize mentee is in love with his son, and they’ve just been sentenced to a 15 year separation. and holt has to watch, knowing that the police system he fought to make better is still deeply flawed and having to come to terms with the fact that as a cop, he just couldn’t do enough to stop this.
super-powered version of the FAHC is an awful, unstoppable thing.
Powered humans are rare, sure, but not unheard of; the Fake’s aren’t
the only group out there defying reality in broad daylight. What
makes them so remarkable, so formidable and distressingly hard to
combat, is the way they use those powers. The way each member has
taken their gift and twisted it, pulled and torn and stretched it to
unforeseen territory, used their powers in ways no one else has even
dreamed. Ways most could only imagine in their worst nightmares.
might be the most obvious example, the clearest illustration of the
perversion of abilities, power turned on its head and used against
its intention. He’s inspired them all, one way or another, to push
their powers to the limits, into shapes they don’t belong in,
powerful and strange and noticeably tarnished. On anyone else Ryan’s
gift would be one of healing, of hope and restoration, empathetic and
inherently altruistic. Its not a power most would associate with a
life of crime, outside perhaps a medic, definitely not one most would
pick for a mercenary, for the infamously deadly Vagabond. Ryan
though, he’s never been one to let a little thing like reason set him
back, never felt constrained by expectation, and he wasn’t about to
let his powers derail his goals. Ryan has taken the ability to heal
and broken it down into stages, approached inexplicable magic like a
scientist, methodically identifying how to extract the exact elements
he was after. He has the power to heal, yes, but what can be healed
may also decay, that which can be stitched back together may just as
easily be disassembled; it is no more difficult to displace blood
than it is to correctly route it. With a touch Ryan can stop hearts,
can rend tissue and implode organs. He can push natural reactions
into overdrive, can encourage minor ailments into unstoppable
disease, convince various systems to shut down without exposure to
extreme circumstance. The only limit is Ryan’s own bountiful
creativity, and while it might not be what people expect from the
Vagabond he wouldn’t swap his abilities for anything.
can change his density at will. Becoming immensely dense has some
obvious uses in their world; bullets literally bouncing off his skin
and fists that can shatter bones with a single punch, but becoming
unnaturally light has just as many applications. Jeremy can change
his weight mid-jump to achieve inhuman distance, can fall from great
heights without a parachute, can climb sheer walls and hold his
entire body up on the tip of a finger. There is no weight Jeremy
cannot lift, no wall or door that can keep him out, let alone cuffs
or bars to contain him. If Jeremy does not want to move there is
physically no way to make him, and if he sets his sights on
destroying something little can be done to stop him.
can communicate telepathically. This comes in handy when getting a
hold of his crew, so long as they are within his range he can speak
to them comms or no, but they are not the only ones he can speak to.
All it takes is some connection, long term emotional links allow for
greater distance but as long as Geoff is looking at someone he can
get into their mind. Can sneer at police officers, whisper threats to
rivals, force unsuspecting strangers to have the most peculiar
thoughts and terrify anyone who tries to stand in his way. While
Geoff can only really scrape through the top level of someones mind,
more emotion and direct thoughts than any deep secrets, it is no
great difficulty to convince people that he sees a lot more. Let them
feel him poking around, quote a few stray thoughts back at them and
suddenly not only do his victims believe he sees all but they are
much more likely to think loudly about the very things they hope he
doesn’t notice. Geoff can push images as easily as word, useful when
sharing a story but even more so as a form of torture; he can fill
minds with his darkest thoughts, plague dreams with images from his
nastiest nightmares, provide a personalised hell that is impossible
to escape from.
controls heat. It’s a power people tend to fear, think it synonymous
with mastery over fire, imagine sparking fingers and raging infernos.
Which, to be fair, isn’t wholly inaccurate, but is hardly the extent
of Michael’s power. He can create fire sure, can raise the
temperature to extremes in pinpointed locations to ignite a room, but
he doesn’t need to. Michael can press heat straight into a body, can
warm someone up or cook them from the inside out, can burn slowly or
kill in an instant. His powers extend to objects too, he can melt
metals, boil water, absorb and deflect heat, and set off explosives.
While people don’t associate it with him the way the do fiery rage,
what can go up can of course also go down. Michael can drop the
temperature, can produce dangerous frost and sharp ice shards, freeze
someone in water and induce frostbite with a simple touch. Michael is
completely unbothered by extreme temperatures, can render himself
undetectable on thermal imaging cameras and change the temperature of
objects so suddenly they shatter. Even those who flee aren’t safe;
careening into danger as roads are suddenly coated in black ice or
bubble and melt beneath flaming tires.
can multiply himself, a series of duplicates capable of drawing fire
and completing simple tasks. They were once mere mindless echoes of
his actual self, near translucent and noticeably different if you
looked closely enough, quickly giving birth to the term Ghost Ray
when describing them. They didn’t stay that way though, Ray quietly
practising and practising until they not only solidified but he could
split his conciousness between them, could act as all bodies
simultaneously and be in half a dozen places at once. It’s
disconcerting, the way they all look real now. The way they all are
Ray now, will fade away like
they were never there when Ray lets them go, or when they die, but
until then he can be in any and all of them at once. It bears
thinking about, considering some die. Considering one stays.
Considering the way Ray doesn’t like to talk about it, practises late
at night and sends his selves off on private missions, laughs and
deflects and fades away.
can manipulate the wind; her jets are always boosted and her cars
caught and righted before they can ever spin out, while any who
pursue her find themselves shoved off the roads. She can deflect
bullets, catch plummeting bodies and stir up various weather
phenomena. As though this was not enough Jack’s power over the air
allows her to create small vacuums, granting her the ability to suck
oxygen from a room. To steal it right out of lungs, suffocating her
opponents without lifting a finger to touch them. Alone she is more
than dangerous, but Jack has always worked best with others. Her
powers are particularly effective when combined with Michael or
Jeremy; catching Jeremy up and hurling him like a canon ball and
taking ice or flame and whirling them into deadly tornadoes. She can,
just as effectively, force them all to calm down when things start
getting out of hand; wind separating fights, extinguishing fires,
airless pockets keeping anyone from storming away in a huff, and
being sudden drenched by rain provides a wholly undignified end to
any petty squabbles.
power is all about luck. It’s not the most exciting power at first
glance; he can see probabilities, split-second calculations that
manifest in inexplicable feelings, knowing just when to duck, when to
take a detour, when to blow off a meeting and stay home instead. It’s
not a power most people would associate with violent crime, rather
imagine lotto winnings and effortless celebrity, but most people
aren’t Gavin. It was simple intuition at first; shoot now, trust him,
buy the ticket, check your phone. But Gavin, being Gavin, pressed for
more. Worked out how to manipulate his own luck instead of relying on
chance, concentrating on what he wants so his powers bend around him,
gift evolving from simple suggestions into something else all
together. When Gavin assures himself that all he needs in the world
is to shoot his way out of a situation there is no way he will be
unlucky enough have a gun run empty, when he needs to make a purchase
he will never have the misfortune of running out of money, when he
settles himself as the frontman of the FAHC none will be lucky enough
to resist his charms. Now that he knows how to push, the limits of
Gavin’s power are completely unknown – the least visibly impressive
and yet the possibilities are as astounding as they are impossible.
He needed a worthy crew, so he found one; they desired power, so they
got it; it would be unlucky to die, so they don’t.
The remarkable love story inspired by the lives of artists Lili Elbe and Gerda Wegener. Lili and Gerda’s marriage and work evolve as they navigate Lili’s groundbreaking journey as a transgender pioneer.
17 years old Sangaile is fascinated by stunt planes. She meets a girl her age at a summer aeronautical show. Sangaile allows Auste to discover her most intimate secret and in the process finds the only person that truly encourages her to fly.
Ray is standing in the communal ship’s bathroom, fresh from the shower, fighting with his hair. Usually it’s not such a problem, he can style his hair in his sleep. But he has a headache, he’s slightly nauseous, and he has a foggy recollection that he said or did something stupid last night.
None of that helps. He sighs, leaning forward to rest his head against the mirror. “It’s 8:30, I have a hangover, and you’re annoying me,” he says to his hair.
“Having issues, Raymond?” Leonard drawls from the doorway, and Ray jumps, nearly dislodging the towel wrapped around his waist. That would’ve given the other man quite a show and…oh, no.
Ray suddenly remembers last night, being dragged back onto the ship, asking Leonard for a kiss…He must turn bright red, because Leonard smirks and steps in, cocking his head to the side, considering Ray with a pinpoint focus.
“Let me help,” Leonard says, stepping right up close to Ray and reaching his hands up to run through Ray’s hair. Ray can’t help but shiver at the touch. He knows Leonard feels it, but the other man doesn’t comment, just keeps finger-combing Ray’s damp hair into its usual neat style.
Leonard’s face is so close to his own, and Ray is not awake enough for this. But he has to say something, he has to, because Leonard is right there, touching Ray, and Ray kind of wants to throw up but he also really wants to kiss Leonard.
“About last night,” he stammers out, but Leonard takes a hand out of Ray’s hair and puts it against Ray’s lips instead.
“Shh,” Leonard says, “I’m not done.”
Ray obeys, only because his head hurts. Definitely. Okay, he’s lying, he loves it when Leonard tries to boss him around. Sometimes, fighting back is fun. Sometimes, doing what he’s told is also fun. This is absolutely the latter.
After another minute or so, Leonard finishes up fixing Ray’s hair and runs his fingertips lightly down the not-quite-dry skin of Ray’s back.
“Now I’m done,” Leonard says, resting his hands gently on Ray’s waist, his thumbs hooking in the edge of the towel. “What were you going to say?” he asks, his face barely an inch away from Ray’s.
“I, um, well I was wondering, uh…” Ray is stammering again, but Leonard doesn’t look as annoyed as he usually does when Ray can’t get his words out. He has a smile playing across his lips, those lips that Ray just wants to lean forward and kiss… “Last night, you said we could talk if I remembered, and I remember, I remember our conversation, I remember asking you–”
“If you could kiss me?” Leonard finishes, his eyes glinting. “I did say that. And you are sober now.”
“I am,” Ray assures him. “I mean, I feel like death and I might throw up, but I’m definitely sober, and wow, that’s not sexy, I’m sor–”
Leonard kisses him. Ray’s astonished, how gentle it is: Leonard takes his time, moving his lips against Ray’s slowly, his hands firm on Ray’s waist. Ray’s hands move up, to clutch at the back of Leonard’s trademark navy blue sweater. Leonard tastes like coffee and he kisses with a preciseness and intensity that Ray thinks he should have expected from the other man.
It’s exquisite, and Ray thinks he could just kiss Leonard for the rest of his life.
Leonard pulls back, way too soon for Ray’s liking. Ray tries to follow his lips, to keep kissing him, but Leonard places a hand on Ray’s chest to hold him back.
“The rest of our teammates are gonna come flooding in here soon, do you really want them to be privy to this?” Leonard asks, and Ray has to admit the man has a point. “Plus,” Leonard continues, “you should probably get dressed.”
Ray feels his face fall at that, but Leonard laughs at him.
“Pretty boy, it’s not even nine in the morning. I’m barely awake, and you’ve got one hell of a hangover. We can continue this when we both feel slightly more human, okay?”
That cheers Ray up, and he smiles brightly, noting that Leonard’s eyes widen at his grin. “So, tonight, then?” he asks, and Leonard nods.
“It’s a date, Raymond,” Leonard replies, leaning in to press a quick, light kiss against Ray’s lips before he turns and walks out.
Ray watches him leave, holding a hand up to his lips. Things on the Waverider are going to get a lot more interesting…
i’m taking prompts for coldatom, goldenvibe, samaya, and timehex, and i will consider other ships
You were sitting at the kitchen table, slowly sipping at a bowl of soup, watching as Caliban ironed the pile of clothes that lay stacked on the couch. He glanced up at you. “What’s on your mind?” Putting your spoon down, you sighed heavily. “Just a headache… Again…” “Grab the Ibuprofen. Drawer to your right.” Twisting in your seat, you reached over, and popped two pills into your mouth. Leaning over, you drowned them with a sip of water. You heard Charles suddenly blurt out mixed words from the empty tank Logan kept he in. Agonized memories attempting to resurface through his gibberish. You swallowed, taking a deep breath as you tried not to think about him. What he used to be, what he was now… The Westchester incident… Caliban then the iron down, and looked over his shoulder. You straightened your back, pursing your lips slightly, watching him as he looked out the window. “Caliban?” “Logan’s back-Something’s wrong-” His voice trailed off, and you barely heard the last couple of words. “Wasn’t he supposed be gone for a few days?” That’s what you had heard, anyway.
I don’t want to be human. I want to see gamma rays, I want to hear x-rays, and I want to smell dark matter. Do you see the absurdity of what I am? I can’t even express these things properly, because I have to - I have to conceptualize complex ideas in this stupid, limiting language, but I know I want to reach out with something other than these prehensile paws, and feel the solar wind of a supernova flowing over me. I’m a machine, and I can know much more. I could be much more, but I’m trapped in this absurd body!