#fahc crew

[meremorphs]

Got that video in my recommendations so here!

[beckettsmeckett]

Traitor 3:???

This part is a little short but trust me, it’s worth it. I’m hoping to have a stricter upload schedule of at least one part a month. Anyhoo, please enjoy the third installment of my story!

Ryan came to gradually, rubbing his eyes and throat. The sun glinted through the blinds and Ryan realised he was in his bedroom. He put on a plain grey t-shirt with a pair of jeans and opened his bedroom door. He was surprised to see the hallway of the penthouse and not the warehouse he was in earlier. He went to the bathroom and saw his face paints, he checked to see if they had been tampered with, but they appeared to be fine. He painted his infamous skull design, adding some extra flourishes to make it even more menacing. He still wasn’t quite sure this wasn’t some elaborate test set up by the puppeteer, lord knows he would do something like this for fun. Ryan wondered through to the kitchen, drawn by the smell of cooking and murmuring of voices. Geoff was stationed by the oven wearing an apron with ‘taste my buns’ printed on it and was arguing with Jack. Michael and Gavin sat at the breakfast bar chatting while eagerly waiting for Geoff to serve whatever he was trying to cook. “they’re burnt Geoff, just bin them and cook some more. It’s not like anyone will eat them.” She pointed to the bin to emphasise her point.

“it’s flavour Jack, and I’m sure Lindsay will eat them.” Geoff retorted, Ryan noticed the pleading look in his eyes that meant Geoff knew he was wrong. He joined Michael and Gavin at the breakfast bar. Morning, sleeping beauty” Gavin said in that smug tone that made Ryan have to resist the urge to wrap his arms around his neck and throttle the British bastard. Michael just nodded to him through a mouthful of cereal. “where’s this bacon I can smell?” Ryan announced to the kitchen.

“well…” Michael trailed off before continuing, “First of all Geoff burnt it-”

“Flavour!” Geoff interjected, brandishing his spatula like a sword.

“and then I ate it all anyway” Michael couldn’t resist cracking into a big grin at the end but soon dropped it when Ryan reached for a knife.  “so you're telling me I came through to put up with you lot only to get burnt mushrooms?” Ryan was done already, he just wanted to back to bed and shut the whole world out. Suddenly the fire alarm rang as Geoff’s mushrooms became truly unsavable and Ryan was back in the warehouse. The gas filling his lungs and the sirens blaring in his ears all over again. He screwed his eyes shut and yelled to drown out the sound. “Jesus Ryan it’s just the blooming smoke alarm no need to scream bloody Mary!” Gavin's voice cut through the alarm and Ryan opened his eyes. He was back in the kitchen. Everything was normal. “Ryan are you ok?” Jack asked. Ryan remembered everything, whatever the gas had done to his memory had been undone and it felt it had been only minutes since he Jeremy followed the trucks to the warehouse. “Where’s Jeremy?” his chest constricted in panic, what had happened to his Battle Buddy?

“who?” The kitchen fell silent. Ryan turned to Jack. “who are you talking about?” Jack repeated.

“Jeremy! You know; Jeremy Dooley, Lil’ J, Rimmy Tim! Bald, purple and orange, about yay high.” Ryan was getting desperate. “He joined after Ray died! Michael and Gav went on a pub crawl with him just a few weeks ago!” Jack’s face told all. They had forgotten Jeremy. Ryan’s breathing quickened and the walls were closing in on him. He spun round to face the lads in hope that this was just some sick joke and one of them would give in to the rouse. But when he turned, he faced a wall, he was back in the warehouse. He turned back to Jack who just looked disappointed, like a parent who knew they were being lied to. “Ryan what are talking about. it’s always just been the three of us.” Jack reached out to hug Ryan and his resolve crumbled as he fell sobbing into her arms. Jack’s hands ran through Ryan’s hair, pulling at the ponytail. She shushed him as she guided her hands down his face to his neck. Out of nowhere, her hands tightened around his neck and she launched herself onto him, knocking them both down. She shrieked as she pressed her thumbs down on his throat. Ryan spluttered and gasped, flailing his arms and legs to try and knock her off. His hands brushed something on the floor and he grabbed it. The cold metal of the knife soon warmed up as it was coated in Jacks blood. Ryan stabbed again and again until Jack’s hands slackened around his neck and her body stilled. He pushed her off him and his hands went through her as she disappeared into dust. The knife burnt in his hand and he dropped it in reflex, watching in distress as the blood on his hands darkened to black and sunk into his skin, leaving his deed forever on his skin, forever there. Ryan collapsed into the foetal position, sobbing as he hugged his hands to his chest. How could this happen to him; his friends. His family. His world. He sobbed and sobbed, letting the cries rack through his body until he lay still, unable to cry any more, unable to feel anything anymore. He wiped his eyes and climbed to his knees. A pair of dress shoes filled his vision, he looked up and saw Geoff, silently staring down at him. Ryan couldn’t do anything, it was like the world had become a black and white film and he was the audience. Geoff began to gurgle, and his face dropped, literally. Suddenly, Ryan could feel again. Terror wracked his body as Geoff’s face smeared like melting wax, dripping onto his suit. His eye sockets appeared to emit pure darkness from his skull, and he cracked his mouth open. “Look upon your works and know: This is your doing. You will ruin them. They will die by your hand. You know what to do. Come with me and you can save them.” Geoff, no, the thing opened its mouth further breaking its jaw out of its socket and reared over Ryan. “No.” Ryan croaked. The thing dove towards him and Ryan flinched as he was enveloped in darkness.

[crewsandcodenames]

what do you also want to bet that michael orders special bandages for each crew member?

Like ryan gets these ones with cartoonish skull and crossbones in all different colors but mostly with that old hot topic middle school skater punk girl pink and black thing going on. Oh and plants lots of bandages with cute cartoon succulents, vines, shrubbery, and flowers.

at first geoff gets these ones with handlebar mustaches and pink sunglasses (cause michael started this during the summer of the pink sunglasses) but then he starts getting ones with renderings of his different tattoos done in different styles of art, like some of his early classic american style tattoos are re-imagined as nu skool designs.

gavin’s are the simplest because he actually requested them, but they are gold and glitter, anything shiny. But of course michael throws in a couple of ones he chose. And michaels choice for gavin would be firetrucks one month, bananas another, grapes and dogs another, just random ones that change here and there based on the crap that gavin does and says. But always, always there is a box of dick patterned bandages in every shipment.

Jack gets hawaiian shirt inspired bandages all the time, but michael also throws in a couple of movie and classic videogame inspired ones here and there. like quotes and classic iconography from each.

Jeremy, when he first joins the crew gets rimmy tim themed bandages, before anyone knows him very well. But now, now he gets bandages along the same theme as gavin does, just based off the shit he says and does. He gets monster trucks, big blazing quotes about how short he is, solid ones that michael matches to that month’s hair color, and so on.

But in everyone’s shipments every month they get pride bandages, covering every range of who they are, from the trans pride/flag bandages to the ace pride/flag bandages, michael always has everyone covered.

[ghostywrite]

the early days

fandom: fahc characters: michael, gavin, ryan ships: n/a description: michael meets the crew for the first time warnings: intrusive thoughts; underage smoking; animal dissection (classroom) mentioned; introspection heavy; suicidal ideation; (unintentional) self harm; knife; knife violence; casual sexist language

The earliest he could remember, if pressed, was sometime during his childhood. Late childhood, maybe – eleven or twelve, no older. He remembered going to school and freaking out when he had to dissect a frog in class. He’d hung onto that memory for years, using it to deny himself the rest of his urges, the need to vent his energy, the need to wreak havoc. He had pitied that damn frog, right? The urges were bad, yeah, but he knew the actions were the really inexcusable part. And he’d nearly convinced himself that he only liked the idea of it, that even if he were to carry out one of his urges, he’d be overcome with the same pity, the same nagging guilt, only magnified a thousandfold. But it fed on itself, became this twisted, self-excusing logic that went something like; the thoughts are bad, but; the actions are the only bad part, but; if I can’t stop the thoughts am I bad? On and on.

He just hadn’t had anyone he trusted enough to ask. And it wasn’t like his childhood was shit, either – he got along well enough with the kids his age, what he remembered of it. He just didn’t confide in anyone, and at the time that didn’t seem like a strange thing at all, or like a bad habit just beginning to take root in him. Eventually, he began to embrace the thoughts. Not as things that seemed plausible or even in his nature to do, but as entirely separate occurrences, safe enough to express to himself.

The transition into high school didn’t particularly jar him, since he wasn’t planning on staying. Just needed to hit the big one-eight, old enough to skip out and take himself off to… figure it out. The great, utterly aimless plan that had been brewing in the back of his mind for years now. Eventually, he would leave. He would find someplace far away, someplace that he could somehow learn, could somehow figure it out. It was all very mystic, probably way more influenced by old TV shows than he wanted to admit, but it was what had kept him going. Sophomore year, though, he was cornered by some kids. He had crawled up onto the roof to sneak a cig, aimlessly contemplating how high he’d have to be in order to actually hurt himself if he jumped when he heard the footsteps behind him. Okay, so cornered was a little strong – they were standing behind him, and in front of him was empty air, but where else would they have been? The door was immediately behind him. It was hard to gauge their intent.

The taller one (barely) crossed his arms, the shades catching the light and making it impossible to see his eyes. The other one stood behind him, more casual. “Uh, hey.” His voice came out flat, and the foremost kid snorted, the other just nodding at him.

“Michael, right?” It was the second kid who spoke. The familiarity caught him off guard, but he nodded, getting up and turning to better face them. Now he really couldn’t help but think of the drop. If they pushed him—

Did he want it, or not?

“You sure about this, Ry?” It was the first boy. His voice was softer but the tone put Michael even more on edge, condescending as hell. The other boy (Ry?) nodded, smiling just a bit.

“Can’t you tell?” He took a step forward, blatantly looking Michael up and down. “I’ve noticed you around.” Michael didn’t respond, narrowing his eyes. The kid didn’t pause long, seeming unperturbed. “You keep to yourself, but that wasn’t a big tell. Didn’t make eye contact, but that could be anything.” He held his arm upright, turned so that his inner forearm faced Michael, tapping a spot a little higher than halfway down. “Check it out.” The kid was wearing a shirt so Michael glanced down at himself, frowning when he saw dried blood caking that spot on his arm.

“What the fuck—“ He began, hands clenching into fists, when the first kid held up both of his hands, palms out.

“You did it to yourself. In geometry.” Again, Michael paused. He wasn’t used to this. “I’m in there with you, three behind you. Ms. Harting.” He stopped talking for a moment, just looking at Michael as if waiting for a response, but Michael had nothing to say… not yet. He continued on as if it was nothing. “You were staring at the guy in front of you, Jeff or whatever. Just staring and doing that to yourself. It was fucking weird.” He flashed a big, bright smile at that, completely at odds with his words. “You should hang out with us. I think you’d fit in, real nice.”

“Fuck off,” he spit, turning to walk away – to the left, thank you very much. But Ry or whatever stopped him, a hand on his shoulder, holding tighter when he tried to shrug it off. “I said, fuck off—“ He said again, turning to shove him, staring as the smile didn’t diminish at all. He barely noticed the other kid lounging against the wall, smoking a cigarette of his own.

“—see, this is what I mean,” the boy said, enthusiasm clear in his voice, surprisingly pleasant. Liking it was enough to give Michael the final push, rushing in and fisting his hands in the boy’s jacket, lifting him and turning towards the edge. A moment later he came to a complete halt, a hand clenched in his hair yanking his head back, a knife against his throat. His swallow was audible, painful as the threat didn’t budge. He slowly released the one boy, as far from the ledge as he could manage, and equally slowly the knife was removed, the painful grip on his hair the last thing to be freed. As soon as it was he moved back, careful of the ledge.

“Good eye, Ryan.” It was the first boy, the taller one, now smiling as he slipped the knife back into the waistband of his jeans, letting his jacket swing back over it to cover. The other one – Ryan – just nodded, not even looking pissed off. Michael felt both completely lost and completely played, and more than anything pissed off, but he wasn’t about to risk the knife again. The other one was fast. “Michael, huh?” His voice wasn’t as clipped now, more accented. He was British? Well, fuck, okay then. “I’m Gavin.”

“Or princess,” the other pointed out, Gavin turning to him. For a moment Michael imagined more violence, but instead Gavin just gave him an awkward shove that had no heat behind it.

“Shut up,” he said, half-laughing before straightening up again.

“What the fuck,” he deadpanned, Ryan smiling again.

“Yeah, welcome to the crew.”

[crybabykovic]

I like to think about switchblades and gym class AU Bruce and Adam hanging out with (insert name for the FAHC-teen-gang!AU I'm making) geoff and Jack. Having a drink (or two or three..) and just talking about the stuff their boys have gotten into that week. Trying to figure out how to help solve the problems that they all know won't be fixed anytime soon. Hoping the other crew might have some idea, some breakthrough that might just make one of their boys lives better. At the end of the meeting, it's not unusual for them all to crash at one of the base camps, the four of them huddled up and all asleep on one another. They just want to help.

[arce-elliot]

Looking for FAHC blogs!

Like this post if you post/reblog FAHC stuff. Always looking for RT blogs but this is more directed specifically at FAHC stuff.

[faunrasthewinterelf]

Yes, hello, who called for Fahc crew Gavin in rose gold? Please, someone, I have a mighty need of Gavin in these heels I've had this picture floating around my photos for about a year now, waiting for this moment

[iwantyoutolovememp3]

I was kind of bored so I made an aesthetic thing for FAHC Meg. Hope you like it!