illegal yet

A 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.

Ryan 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.

Jeremy 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.

Geoff 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.

Michael 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.

Ray 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.

Jack 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.

Gavin’s 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.

7 | You’ll Never Walk Alone



series warnings: mature themes, strong language, violence, substance abuse, eventual smut. this chapter contains graphic content such as death and substance abuse

Originally posted by kim-taehyung

masterlist | ask | prev | next

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“The conscious and intelligent manipulation of the organized habits and opinions of the masses is an important element in democratic society. Those who manipulate this unseen mechanism of society constitute an invisible government which is the true ruling power of our country. …We are governed, our minds are molded, our tastes formed, our ideas suggested, largely by men we have never heard of. This is a logical result of the way in which our democratic society is organized. Vast numbers of human beings must cooperate in this manner if they are to live together as a smoothly functioning society. …In almost every act of our daily lives, whether in the sphere of politics or business, in our social conduct or our ethical thinking, we are dominated by the relatively small number of persons…who understand the mental processes and social patterns of the masses. It is they who pull the wires which control the public mind.”  
~ Edward L . Bernays   

So I know they said for this one they’re gonna buy a bunch of doors from Home Depot and just break them that way

but how fucking hilarious (and illegal) would it be if he actually broke into the god damn old house and broke all the doors 

like whoever is living there would just wake up (i imagine he’d be smart enough to do it at night. the man’s not a madman) to a man breaking their doors in.






It is very possible that I was reading too much into the floaty bubbles and it is not actual. 


I have also been staring at those suits for long minutes now. I feel like I should say something beyond “wow”, and yet that’s all I can think of. 

So. Like. 


anonymous asked:

hc (?) that everyone thinks thiam is just sexual and the pack disapproving until one is injured and they realize they actually care for each other

hey anon! ily and i hope you have a wonderful day and that i did your wonderful prompt justice!!! :3 also hey look it’s another Really Freaking Long Post

  • thiam is That Couple. you know them: constantly touching, hands on each other’s hips/shoulders/face/ribs/on occasion ass, really dirty kisses, they’ll disappear for a couple minutes and come back covered in rapidly-fading hickies 
  • but other than these public displays there’s really not a lot of interaction between them. there’ll be absentminded cheek kisses as they’re going between things and of course there’s the legendary squabbling but the pack never sees the communication/interactions necessary for a stable romantic relationship 
  • and even the pda is a little sporadic and sometimes it seems like they haven’t been seen together in weeks
  • so of course the pack worries. especially scott. his basis of comparison is basically allison-kira-malia and in all three there was a lot of discussion and back-and-forth that happened pretty much any time they interacted. they were very steady and stable, and so the off-and-on nature of theo and liam’s relationship is concerning and worrying
  • scott doesn’t see that in thiam and so he gets a little–not freaked out but definitely a little leery of the relationship because, after all, he’s still just a little wary of theo (which is probably not misplaced. theo’s making an effort but he’s still theo) and he’s not seeing any effort on either side to negotiate a healthy relationship.

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so let’s make a list of the ways in which carol fans have been blessed today
  • carol and tara in a scene together, and what looks to be a long one, since they’re clearly waiting for something
  • carol gazing at a flower with a lovely, inscrutable look on her face and yes i realize it may be a cherokee rose but y’all have met me and i’m here to deal in hard facts okay
  • carol sexily and stealthily sneaking into a mysterious building while packing heat
  • carol teaming up with daryl, tara, and morgan to get shit done
  • carol looking illegally gorgeous as she watches daryl ride away on his bike
  • carol in closeup looking illegally beautiful yet again but when does she not
  • carol chill af as hundred of walkers stroll under the overpass she and tara are sitting on
  • carol strolling past daryl’s bike like the motherfucking boss queen of the world that she is
  • carol telling jerry and henry to cover their ears while she raises a gun twice as big as she is and doesn’t even blink
  • carol most likely giving zeke the sassiest face ever while shiva growls like a mofo
  • carol diving behind a car to take cover from a hail of bullets

we haven’t had this much carol in a trailer like, ever? (and if i’ve missed anything by all means please jump in and add it!)

seriously i just need to document how blessed we are is all.

[.gif by dixonscarol]

You can be Lonely in the Company of Others, You Know

a self-projecting drabble turned into a 2.6k sickfic whOOPS

Lance was tired.  He was so, so tired.  But did school care that he was tired?  Did his teachers care if he was doing homework for four hours at least once a week at this point?  Did anyone care?  He’s sure his friends don’t.  They don’t get the same pile of homework and tests that he does.  His parents think this pile of assignments is preparing him for the real world and college and such, but honestly?  When is he ever going to use half of this crap?  

Never.  The answer is never.  

He’s been staying up late, which isn’t helping, but he’s staying up for a reason.  He has to do something to keep himself sane, and his answer is his art.  He stays up until midnight, his pencil scratching at the paper, and all of his worries and stresses being chipped away with every stroke.  Then, he falls asleep, and when he wakes up, Lance starts it all over again.  It’s miserable, but he guesses he’ll have to just deal with it all.  

Lance has noticed the decline in the strength of his immune system.  Last year, he hardly got sick, maybe once or twice through the year, only missing two days.  Once because of his part in the school play and the other because he had been sick, but this year?  This year, he’d already missed twice that many days, and he knew he’d probably get sick again at some point.  

He wasn’t looking forward to missing any days.  He got sick, went home with a migraine, on the second day of school.  When he came back, he had an entire essay to make up on the second day of school.  What kind of teacher gives homework on the second day of school?  Of course, it was much worse the other few days he missed.  He’d had tests, quizzes, homework, and notes to make up, and most of his teachers refused to outright tell him what he missed.

“Ask your friends,” they’d told him without looking up from their computer screens.  He wanted to say ‘what friends? All of mine aren’t in any of these stupid classes.’  Because it was true.  He had no friends in his classes.  Pidge was in a lot of college-level classes, probably, and Hunk had pretty much the opposite schedule as he did.  He was alone.  Except for Keith, but Lance was sure that Keith didn’t like him very much, and he’s 99% sure Keith hates his guts.  He didn’t want Keith to hate his guts.  He had enough gut-hating with Rolo and Nyma making fun of him every step he takes.  As if he didn’t feel crappy enough, he’s afraid to go into most of his classrooms to ask for help from teachers or get good grades on a test or even have one little hair out of place because he knows, either way, he’ll be made fun of.  He doesn’t want that, so he just stops talking.  At home, at school.  He starts drawing more and staying up even later and later until he’s hardly sleeping at all.  

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japan’s animal welfare laws and outlines are vague and poorly enforced enough to where they effectively carry no weight. the terms “humane slaughter” and even “proper pet care” are not defined or specified, few animals are protected under those provisions, and the punishment for violation of those laws or failure to meet those standards is horrifically lenient. the import of exotic animals for the sake of petkeeping is rife, primarily illegal, and yet its all but swept under the rug due to those weak laws and a general lack of caring.

causing a huge fuss over things like the taiji dolphin drive and whaling is just tackling the symptoms of a much larger and much more significant issue, here.

ghost-chicky  asked:

Prom your dad is friken wILD

You literally dont understand how crazy my dad is ok.

⭐️when we went to india like years ago during a festival there is this event where you literally run across roofs and throw FLAMING FIREWORKS at each other ok. My fucking dad. MY DAD lit two entire boxes of fireworks and threw them. No one was hurt but oh my god
⭐️that same day he gave me a rocket launcher for a firework. It was literally the size of me and hella illegal but yet here it is in front of me. Im scared as shit and dont go near it. He fires it instead of me and THE FUCKING THING IS UPSIDE DOWN AND FIRES DIRECTLY INTO HIM. I was like “bye dad” but he was ok.
⭐️ my parents own a hotel 3 hours away from my college and i work there sometimes. We have this corridor that runs inbetween the entitr hotel for pipes and maintence. My dad walks back there as per routine and FINDS A MAN BACK THERE. Any normal person would freak the fuck out and call the cops right?? Nope not my dad, my dad fucking rUNS AFTER THIS 6'5 GUY OUT OF THE CORRIDOR AND OUT INTO THE ROAD WITH A 5 FOOT POLE HE FOUND. The only reason i know this is because i heard and saw the guy screaming outside the hotel running fast as hell.
⭐️ whenever my dad gets bored he comes up to me and i do random shit to him. Once at my cousins dinner reception after her wedding we were waiting for a table at a resturant. Hes bored so he comes up and he has a huge potbelly (from drinking like hes some anime protag) and i start patting his stomach like its a bongo or drum. I do that for a good fucking 20 min until my dad starts laughing and i see all my older cousins and relatives staring at me. HE FUCKING KNEW WHAT HE WAS DOING

Last one

⭐️ my dad had a box of raisens from the farmers market next to him. I sat down next to him and started eatting them. My mom comes in and bloody screams like something crawled out her ass and screams “THERE ARE BUG EGGS AND HUGE DEAD SPIDERS IN THOSE RAISENS” i start screaming and run to the bathroom to try to throw up and my dad knew tje entire fuckinh time i was eatting them that there wete bugs in the raisens. The entire time. He watched me eat them. You wanna know what he said? “Good protein” i didnt eat raisens for a good year and a half after that.

Love you dad

anonymous asked:

heya! I'm sure you get a lot of asks, and this may be a stupid question that I'm for some reason having trouble with because I'm not That tech savvy- but where do you /get/ the audio file for a animatic or animation sequence?

I copy/paste youtube urls into, haha


*** For the purpose of this story being more relaxed, I made it to where the CO leaves you alone. Realistically, someone is usually present to make sure the inmate isn’t trying to escape, or kill the visitor. Because that happens.***

“Just wait for the buzz and then pull the door.”

You nodded at the warden and waited for the buzzing sound, pulling open the door and walking into the hallway where he stood.

“Follow me.”

You walked casually behind him as he read off the standard rules that you already knew.

“No nail clippers, no hair pins, no shoelaces, no belts, no necklaces, no earrings, no body or facial jewelry, no hairsprays, no nail files, no sealed envelopes”

He kept spouting off the visitation rules but you weren’t really listening. You’d been through this many times before and you knew what you could and couldn’t bring. You weren’t here to drop anything off today. Today was an illegal, yet very simple visit.

A conjugal visit.

Juice has only been locked up about 6 months out of his 14 month sentence but you were already missing him like crazy. You were both young, agile and in love, and sex was constant in your relationship. Sex in the bedroom, sex in the shower, sex in the kitchen, sex in your car, sex in the garage over his workbench. You were used to having your man whenever and wherever you wanted and this new prison sentence was wearing you thin. You were at the limits of your sexual frustration and after an especially filthy round of phone sex with Juice, he’d asked if you would be game to come in for a conjugal. Something about a CO owing them a favor and allowing him to use the supply closet for 15 minutes. You didn’t catch the specifics, too excited and needy for your Old Man. It wasn’t a long time, but it was better than lonely nights with toys and you told him to give you a date and time.

Which was today.

You made it to the end of the hall and made a left, the warden cutting the act and pointing at one of the doors.

“Ortiz is in there. You got 15 minutes. That’s it. By 15 minutes, you better be out here looking presentable and I’ll escort you back out. He stays inside.”

You nodded and reached forward, grabbing the handle and twisting it as the CO crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall beside the door.

“When I knock, you come out.”

He let you walk into the room and closed the door behind you. As you turned around, you saw Juice leaning against a washing machine. He had a decent amount of facial hair and his hair was fully grown out and slicked back. He looked different, but the look o hunger in his eyes was familiar. As soon as he saw you, his eyes lit up and a grin quickly spread across his face.


He stood up straight and opened his arms up to you in an invitation and you happily accepted, tucking yourself into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on the top of your head.

“I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too Juicey.”

He grinned and squeezed you once more before weaving his fingers into your hair and pulling your head back so he could look at your face.

“We don’t have much time baby.”

You nodded and smiled, leaning up to press your lips to his. He turned the both of you around and pressed your back to the washer, his hand snaking down the front of your body and slipping into the front of your pants. His fingers rubbed against you as he kissed down along the side of your neck and across your throat. His lips kissed softly at your skin, his teeth grazing and nipping randomly along the way. Soft gasps and whimpers left your pouted lips as his fingers got you warmed up. His fingertips grazed over your lips and teased your clit, a moan falling from your mouth.

“Juice baby, fuck.”

You could feel him grin against your throat and you could only imagine the cocky look he wore. His words affirmed it for you regardless.

“I got you wet pretty quick huh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself Ortiz, I’ve been wet all morning. It’s been 6 months.”

He chuckled and pulled away slightly, his hands gripping the waistband of your pants and pulling them down your thighs.

“Well then, I guess I shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer.”

His hands settled on your bare hips and he spun you around, bending you forward and over the washer in front of you. With one hand pressed against your back, the other gripped his prison issued sweats and yanked them down his thighs, his cock springing out and tapping against the cheek of your ass. He wasted no time in grabbing himself and running the tip against you, his head brushing through your lips once, twice and then three times, spreading your wetness before he slipped inside of you. You couldn’t help the groan that left you, your body falling forward and your cheek resting against the cool metal of the washer. You knew you didn’t have much time for love making and the longer you were in here, the bigger the chance of something going wrong and getting caught, so you let your body go limp against the washer and Juice took the hint, gripping your hips in his hands and beginning to pound into you.

You whimpered at the slight burn that came from the stretch you hadn’t had in a while but with it also came the immense pleasure of being filled by the man you loved and you could already begin to feel that tightening in your abdomen. Juice was just thick enough that it didn’t hurt, but it took your breath away and you relished in the feeling of having your man inside of you again. Juice was also enamored by the feeling of you all warm and slick, wondering if you had always felt so heavenly or if he was just missing you too much. The washer shook slightly as Juice took you from behind, his hips thrusting against you. His rhythm was messy already, the feeling of you wrapped around him after so long overwhelming and all he wanted to do was make you come. Reaching forward, he slipped his hand between your legs once again, this time not bothering with the teasing and simply rubbing firm circles around your clit over and over, his lips whispering filth into your ear over the back of your shoulder. You moaned at the feeling and so did he, your walls starting to clench and pulse around him.

“There you go babygirl. Come for me. Let me feel you come around me. Be a good girl and come.”

His instructions sounded more like demands and between the power in his voice and the power in his hands as he held you down and fucked you, it didn’t take long for your breathing to get ragged and your legs to start shaking. Your muscles spasmed around him and he cursed under his breath as you came, all gasps and whimpers. You bit down harshly on your forearm to muffle the noises you made as you came, Juice hissing behind you as he came as well, forehead creased as he was burying himself as deep as he could. A sharp shiver ran through you as he licked a stripe up your spine followed by a kiss to the side of your neck, a rumbling growl in his throat as he started to come down and recover. You collapsed against the washer and he chuckled, running his hand lovingly down your back.

“You gotta get going baby.”

You answered with a whine and he pulled you to stand, pulling up your pants and panties, his hand brushing some hair back into place just as the knock sounded on the door.

“I love you babe. Thank you for showing up.”

“I love you too Juan. Let me know if they owe you guys anymore favors.”

“I will baby.”

You leaned forward and gave him one last slow and passionate kiss, your eyes lingering on each other as you walked away from him and grabbed the handle, opening the door and walking out of the utility room. The CO looked you over to make sure you looked put together and stopped at the teeth marks dug into your arm. He laughed and shook his head, motioning for you to follow him out.

“Cover that shit up.”