#supernatural fake ah crew

[zepskies]

LOL yeah I figured that gif would be a bit of a fake out, but still applicable. 🤣🤣

But I'm so glad you could hear Ames' voice in your head when you were reading that line!! I did my best to get his cadence right as well.

Also, poor Alec, finding out the news she was planning to tell him this way. I love how you have Alec, Max, Logan, and Joshua working together to find her.

Ugh I know, so heartbreaking, right? 😭😭 I'm glad though that you liked how the crew got brought in to save her!

Logan eventually calls Alec to tell him about a lab within a mile of the scheduled rendezvous point.

Good old Logan, he always comes through for them!

I liked being able to get Logan in the story here and there! He really comes through in a pinch loll.

Great, comes Alec’s sardonic thought. Hopefully the ghosts of whoever was tortured here won’t cause them any problems.

Ah, a little supernatural Easter egg... I love it!

Hahaa thank you for picking up my breadcrumbs!! I hoped someone would catch that. 😂

Alec is especially brutal and efficient with the federal security guards. Max watches him out of the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t yet warn him to pull his punches. The stakes are high, and she understands his anger and stress.

Just as I imagine, he would be in a situation like this, like the glimpses of this we got in The Berrisford Agenda. It's also very Max-like to be watching ready to step in and pull him back if she needed to.

Yes that's exactly what I was going for! I thought he would act much in the same way as he did in the Berrisford house while looking for Rachel, but perhaps even more so here, considering the stakes. And I thought that would be on brand for Max too, supportive but watching him closely.

I'm so pleased Joshua went with them because I know he would want to help Alec, and he would be especially motivated to do so if he knew Ames White was threatening 'Alecs mate'.

Absolutely on both fronts!! That's exactly why I wanted to include Joshua in this part. 🥺

“You go. Find her. Leave him with me,” Joshua says. His blue eyes are sharp with predatory anger at the man who killed Annie Fisher.

White is in serious trouble here. Joshua’s about to get his revenge for Annie! Part of me really wanted him to get it in the big showdown in 'Freak Nation' although I completely understood why Max stopped him. I felt so bad for Joshua after White did that to Annie, so it seems fitting that Joshua got to take him out, and Max protected him (and the other transgenics) by hiding the fact.

He really is!! Oh my God I feel the same way about the S2 finale. I think it made sense for the story to keep Ames alive in that scene, like you said, but I think it was also because they were holding out hope for a season 3. 🙃 (I gotta find those books that apparently continue from where the show left off.)

“Alec,” is all you manage to say. You still have some trouble moving your heavy body, but you grab a fistful of his shirt and wince as you pull yourself up, just enough to bury your face into his chest. Your body shakes with the force of your sobs. 

Clinging to him... perfect! All the looks the others all share as well really helped create the atmosphere... felt like I could have been watching a scene from the show.

Aww thank you for shouting that out! Even though Alec and the reader are the focal point in the scene, I think during the scene it's important to shade in what's happening around them, like how you would watch it on a screen. It helps me visualize it as a writer, and hopefully you as a reader. 💜

Her reaction to the news that her boyfriend and friend are really transgenics was a relief, I was a little worried earlier on how she would take that news. It felt realistic, though, and because she knew them, even though it was a bit of a shock, she was ok with it. And she met Joshua!! I love Joshua ❤️

I love him too!! He's such a great character. And I think it's understandable for her to be shocked lol (especially with Joshua), but she cares about Alec -- and Max -- too much to let it deter her (and maybe deep down, she already knew he was different somehow).

Also, I'm so glad Joshua sounded and felt authentic! I tried my best to get his voice right as well. I rewatched a few episodes to try and figure out how to write his voice. He can be very simplistic at times, but also poignant in others.

I also really enjoyed how their thoughts...

Whatever you are, you're mine.

You’re mine, instinct tells him. And this time, he just can’t fight it. 

Mirror each other (and Alec has had this realisation).

This is one of the many reasons why I enjoy hearing from you! Thank you for shouting this out, as it was intentional. 💓💓

You gasp, laughing, and you shove against his chest. You twist away from the cage of his arms, but he laughs and doesn’t let you so easily escape. You realize then how truly strong he is when he rolls you under him on the bed. 

Oh yes, there is some serious strength there, and also, what a position to be manhandled into 😉

Lmaooo ikr?? Oh what I would give...

Their talk 😍😍

“But I’m not letting you do this alone. I… I love you,” he admits. “Sorry it took me so long to figure it out.”

I just love this ❤️

Thank you, friend!! I really loved writing that end scene. I'm a sucker for a nice fluffy ending, and it felt like some nice closure for his character as well -- being able to be honest and vulnerable with someone he loves.

I have thoroughly enjoyed this series. Thank you, friend, for this fantastic Alec story 😘

I'm so very glad to hear that!! It's been a pleasure to write this little series. I was hooked by the character and this world pretty much immediately, so it was very fun to explore him in Being Human. 😘💞💞

Being Human - Part 4 (Finale)

Pairing: Alec McDowell x F. Reader

Summary: Your life made sense before Alec slipped his way in. He unravels your threads without even trying. He frustrates you as easily as he weasels back into your good graces. But you soon realize that this man is worth the challenge.

AN: (I decided to release this a bit early.) Here we are, friends! The final chapter...

Chapter Summary: Ames White captures you, forcing Alec to his knees.

Word Count: 4,300

Tags/Warnings: Peril and violence, angst, major hurt/comfort, but also major fluff...

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 4: Reckoning

Terminal City is a region on the edge of the city. The chemical and biohazardous waste that was dumped there after the Pulse makes ordinary humans sick, but for the immune transgenics, it’s the perfect spot to carve out a sanctuary.

Alec has been visiting the sector frequently, working with Max, Joshua, and other Manticore escapees to build up its infrastructure. Joshua lives here full-time now, as it’s safer for the half-canine transgenic and others like him, who don’t “look” human.

Today, Alec’s working with Mole and Joshua on ammunitions. Regardless of what any of them look like, they are all soldiers, in one way or another built and trained for warfare.

As much as Alec doesn’t want to see it, the tensions between “ordinaries” and transgenics are mounting, especially in Seattle. 

He checks his watch and realizes that he’s late to meet you. 

“Shit. I gotta go,” he says.

“Where’re you going?” Max asks. She has a perceptive eye, but Alec doesn’t reveal anything.  He revs up his motorcycle and dons his helmet.

“Just going to meet someone,” he says, purposely vague. He doesn’t want another lecture from her. 

The truth is, he’s dreading this. He knows when he sees you, it’ll be damn near impossible to maintain his distance. He should’ve just met you at your apartment, but surrounded by your things, your familiar scent etched into every fiber of your place…it would buckle his resolve. 

So he heads back on his motorcycle all the way home. 

Something’s off.

He instinctively knows after he climbs up the stairs to his apartment. He tests the door, and it opens without him having to unlock it.

You would know better than to leave the door open.

He pushes inside the apartment, and he’s greeted to a scene that drops his heart into his stomach. 

His apartment is empty, but a table near the kitchen is knocked over. Glass liters the ground where it’s overturned, and on further inspection, he finds drying bloodstains on the glass and on the floor.

His heart beats faster as he takes in everything with wide eyes. He doesn’t smell gunpowder, or find anything else that would tell him what happened here. 

He does find your purse, tossed by the couch in the living room. 

Alec whips out his phone and calls your cell.

“Hello, 494.” A man’s voice—one that Alec would know anywhere. It prickles his skin with unease and makes his blood boil all at once.

“Ames White.” Alec’s teeth grind. “What game are you playing now?”

“This isn’t a game. It’s business,” White claims. “I have something you want. How much are you willing to pay to make sure she stays alive?”

Alec forces himself to calm down, even though his pulse is racing.

“What do you want?”

“You. And 452. With no bullshit on your end,” the agent replies. “Or this girl is going to pay that price for you.”

Alec’s breath becomes unsteady. “And if I comply, you’ll let her go. I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Oh, I won’t lie to you. She’s on her way to the lab as we speak. You see, they’re gonna want to analyze that abomination she’s carrying,” White says. 

That steals the breath from Alec’s lungs.

His eyes grow wide as he puts together what the man is saying. 

“But if you do comply,” he says, “I’ll make sure they let her deliver to term, at least.”

Alec’s throat tightens. Oh, God… 

“You let her go, you son of a bitch!” he grinds out. His white-knuckle grip pops a few springs in the couch. He releases it and covers his face, pressing hard between his eyes. “She’s not part of this!” 

“It seems she is, 494. I’ll send you the time and the place. Be there with 452.”

The line clicks. Alec’s breathing is harsh. He grips his phone so hard it nearly shatters, but he tosses it onto the couch and pushes his palms against the burn in his eyes. His jaw locks with the strain of clenched teeth. No, no, no, NO! 

His phone chimes with a voicemail message. Alec grabs the phone and listens. It details coordinates and a meeting time: tonight, at midnight.

Alec makes another call with what remains of his phone.

“Max,” he says shakily. “I need your help.”  

Alec barely resists pacing throughout Logan’s apartment while the latter types away, researching the coordinates Ames White provided for the meeting point. Their forced surrender. 

Max perches on the corner of the couch with her arms crossed. She’s concerned for you as well, but she gazes at him with sympathy.

“We’ll find her, Alec,” she says. 

Alec shakes his head.

“He could have her anywhere,” he gestures widely. “He could’ve already handed her off to whatever shady government agency he works for. Or with that damn cult, that in case you’ve forgotten, hates us. Like everyone else in this city.”

“Not everyone,” Max reminds him pointedly. 

“Yeah, and look where we are now,” Alec retorts. “I told you this would happen!”

“Do you want to be right, or do you want to save her?” Max shoots back. “Now think. We’ve found bases of White’s operations before. Both for the agency, and the breeding cult.”

“I’m cross-referencing old locations,” Logan says. He’s been typing away at his computer for several minutes. “I can ask Asha and her people to join the search. And I can do an Eyes Only broadcast, encourage people to keep an eye out.” 

Alec nods, but any outcomes of those plans will take time. Time you might not have. 

They’ve been following anonymous tips for hours. Joshua and a few X5s and X6s joined the search for Ames White, and more importantly, for you. 

Alec and Max have been working together without stopping even for a breath throughout the night. They only have one hour before they’re meant to be at the agreed meeting point: an abandoned building near the edge of the city. No doubt for their easy extraction. 

Logan eventually calls Alec to tell him about a lab within a mile of the scheduled rendezvous point. There have been reports of late-night transports—locals calling in about strange noises, and in one case, what someone thought was a muffled gunshot.

Alec and Max agree to check it out, but they’re going to cut it close with the meeting time.

“Josh. Where are you, buddy?” Alec asks after calling his friend’s cell.

“I’m here.”

“Where’s here?”

“Here,” Joshua replies. He’s turned the corner and found his friends on the crossing of Avalon St. and Broadway, via his elite sense of smell.

“Good,” Alec smiles in relief. He pats his taller friend’s arm. “You’ve been a big help so far, but I need you for this. Wanna be part of the rescue party?”

“Yes,” Joshua nods, but his tone suggests he’s offended that Alec has to ask. “Help save your mate.”

Alec’s smile weakens. He doubts you’ll ever want to be that with him, ever again. But he’ll be damned if the government, or some damn breeding cult, is going to lay a hand on you.

Logan agrees to meet them there in his van for backup, while Josh hitches a ride on the back of Alec’s motorcycle. The three of them haul ass to the location of the suspected lab.

They approach a large, three-story dilapidated building. According to Logan, it used to be a mental health asylum. When the government bought it out, the facility was turned into a private lab.

Great, comes Alec’s sardonic thought. Hopefully the ghosts of whoever was tortured here won’t cause them any problems.

He and Max communicate silently through the militaristic hand motions they learned in their training to scope the place’s security, its entry points, and the best way for them to infiltrate the building. Although Manticore made Joshua, he hasn’t gone through the same training as most transgenics have.

He’s fortunate for it, but it means that Max has to direct him more carefully. He covers her and Alec as they approach the back entrance, which seems to be where they most often transport both cargo and people. Right now, there’s a large van waiting on standby.

Alec rips out the driver first, while Max and Joshua take on the other guards who start shooting. Alec comes around the back of the van, and when the first guard opens the back door, Alec tears the gun out of his hands and yanks him out. Alec uses the man’s body like a Kevlar vest as his two companies unload a clip or two. He punches them both out hard enough to hear the crack of bone.

The van inside is empty, but he sees a cot and several machines already ready and waiting to transport someone. He grits his teeth and slams the door shut on his way out.  

“She’s not in there,” he tells Max. “If she’s here, she’s gotta be inside.”

Max and Joshua have taken out the outside guards, no problem, but he’s sure there’ll be more where that came from.

The three of them enter the building and race through the long hallways, slipping by lab technicians, doctors, and other staff. Anyone who attempts to stop them soon regrets it.

Alec is especially brutal and efficient with the federal security guards. Max watches him out of the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t yet warn him to pull his punches. The stakes are high, and she understands his anger and stress.

“There’s a file room,” Alec points to a door that’s labeled: RECORDS.

“I doubt they’ll have a file on her yet, especially if White’s trying to keep this under wraps,” Max says.

Joshua looks around and points across the hall. “Cameras?”

The other two look in the direction he’s pointing to, and they see what he sees—a room labeled: SECURITY.

Alec slaps a companionable hand on Joshua’s back, and they head for the security room. The guards are dealt with swiftly, being knocked out and piled against the back wall. While Joshua keeps a lookout, Max and Alec scan the many different camera feeds: focused on various hallways and lab subjects.

Alec scans each of them rapidly. He’s always been good with TV.

He finds you on one of the camera feeds and he points to it. “There she is! Room 204.”

You’re in a small, cell-like room, sleeping on what almost looks like a hospital bed. Except there’s a breathing mask held over your face, probably keeping you unconscious, and you’re attached to several monitors. It makes his heart sink and his spine tighten with rage, simultaneously.

“Let’s go,” Max says, but it’s not necessary. Alec is already halfway out the door.

They’re stopped at a four-way crossroads in the hall. In the center is Ames White.

“You’re smart, I’ll give you that,” he grants with an incline of his head. He takes a radio clipped to his belt and clicks it on, speaking into it. “Transport the girl. Make sure she’s sedated.”

Alec seethes. Before he can sprint headlong into a fight, Joshua stops him. Alec looks up at him in askance.

“You go. Find her. Leave him with me,” Joshua says. His blue eyes are sharp with predatory anger at the man who killed Annie Fisher.

Alec softens a fraction and nods in understanding. He shoots Max a look.

“Go, I’ll catch up with you,” she says.

Alec nods and races on ahead. He dodges bullets with the help of superior speed and crashes into each guard, taking them out with brutal force. He steals a gun off of one of them, and that saves him a lot of time and energy. He tries not to kill anyone, but he can’t think about holding back. He just needs to get to you.

He reaches the second floor, and finally to Room 204.

Two men are already in the room. He doesn’t want to open fire—the room is too small, the risk of ricochet too high. He grabs a knife from his belt and hurls it at the first man, who was poised to inject something into your arm. The second guard turns with his gun, but Alec is already moving too fast for human eyes to follow.

He breaks the man’s arm, followed by a swift uppercut. He takes the gun and hurls the man into the far wall, knocking him clean out as he slumps to the floor.

Alec breathes hard in the aftermath, but he begins to soften after his attention turns to you. He sets down the gun and takes in the sight of you, still dressed in jeans and a blood-stained shirt.

You’re heavily sedated and restrained by your wrists and ankles. You have a bandage wrapped around your forearm, along with brain and heart monitors attached to your forehead and chest, and an IV drip in your other arm. 

Alec takes a breath, and he starts with the wires, removing the small suction cups from your body and disconnecting all the monitors. He takes off the mask and unclips the leather restraints. 

The fury builds back up inside him at what they’ve already done to you. He doesn’t want to think any more on what they’d planned to do.

You must’ve been terrified, he thinks. He touches your cheek tenderly. His free hand hesitates, before it rests gently on your belly. He calls your name. 

You don’t stir just yet. Your body is still under the effects of the sedation. So he carefully lifts you into his arms. He hears Max approach, and she’s there in the doorway by the time he turns around. 

“Let’s go,” Alec says. His face is hard and angry while he carries you out. 

They regroup with Joshua in the lobby, though even Alec stops short when he sees the carnage. Ames White’s body lays on the floor with unseeing eyes. His throat is torn out. 

Joshua has blood in his teeth. He wipes at his face with the back of his arm, his eyes veering away from Max and Alec. Max blinks through her shock and tries to keep her mouth from falling open.

“Time to go,” Joshua says. His voice is heavy, but matter of fact.

“We’ll need to take his body, get rid of it later,” Max says, when she recovers. “We can’t let the police find him.”

They’ll blame us, is understood by them all. The police won’t have the full story, but it won’t matter. Appearances are everything. 

Max finds a black body bag in a nearby storage closet and Joshua collects White, later hefting the full body bag over his shoulder.

They make their escape out the back of the building, where Logan is waiting with his van. Joshua deposits the body in the back, where he also climbs in. Max takes the front passenger seat while Alec carries you into the middle seat bed. 

Nothing else feels right but to hold you in his arms. To stroke your cheek and wait, both desperate for, and yet dreading the moment you’ll open your eyes. 

Because when you do, there’s a good chance that he’ll find your fear. Or worse. 

“She’s going to be okay,” Max says to him, quietly. She’s twisted towards him in her seat.

“Maybe physically,” Alec counters. “I don’t know, Max. How did being held up in a lab affect your mental health?” 

Her lips purse. “One step at a time, okay?”

Alec shakes his head and looks down at you. He tries to commit your peaceful face to memory, because he doubts that he’ll ever see it again after tonight. 

Slowly, you start to wake.

At first, all you see is shadows and shapes of someone looming over you. Unconsciously you whimper and push at whatever holds you down, but the hold is gentle, the voice soothing. 

“Shh, it’s okay. Sweetheart, it’s me,” he says. 

Your eyes clear and focus as you blink…though they soon flood with tears. Relief takes over your fear. You see his concerned, handsome face, and your lower lip trembles. 

“Alec,” is all you manage to say. You still have some trouble moving your heavy body, but you grab a fistful of his shirt and wince as you pull yourself up, just enough to bury your face into his chest. Your body shakes with the force of your sobs. 

Alec gathers you up against him and shushes you gently, even as his heart clenches. He soothes a hand over your hair and your back. 

“I’ve gotcha. It’s okay, you’re safe,” he says in your ear. He meets Max’s concerned gaze, then Joshua’s in the shrouded end of the car. Even Logan glances back through the rearview mirror as he drives. 

Alec tries to block them out and focus on you. He holds you and comforts you for as long as you let him.

Eventually, you pull away to look at his face. You still have tears in your eyes, but now, it’s with a hue of uncertainty. 

“The man…the agent who took me. He was looking for you,” you say. Your voice is weak and a bit coarse. You try to clear it.

Alec wishes he had some water for you.

“He’s gone. You don’t have to worry about him,” he says. 

You let out a shaky breath, but you meet his gaze. “He said that you’re not…Alec, are you…”

He sighs; he understands the question you’re trying to ask. 

“Yeah. Those freaks you hear people talking about on the news?” he says. “I’m one of ‘em.”

Your eyes widen as your breathing becomes more labored.

“I was made in a lab,” Alec confesses. “At Manticore, bred and trained to be a soldier.”

A transgenic.

Your hand falls away from his chest, and you take that in with an unblinking stare. He can see you trying to process all this.

You glance over at Max, who had been facing the front to give you and Alec the semblance of privacy. Feeling your gaze on her, she turns around and gives you a half-hearted smile. 

“Hey, girl,” she greets. “Glad you’re okay.”

“You’re like him too?” you ask. Max nods.

Suddenly, everything makes so much sense. Why she and Alec have always seemed to share history and bickered like siblings. Why Max was friendly, but never truly your family. Why Alec had been so much of a mystery to you. Why he’d broken your heart. 

“Joshua too,” says a deep voice from the back. 

You turn your head and gasp as your eyes fly open wide again. Alec gives his friend a look over your head, but he tries to reassure you with a warm hand on your lower back. He hopes you can’t see the dried blood on Joshua’s snout. 

Joshua breaks into a sheepish smile. 

“Sorry,” he says, gesturing to his wolf-like face. “Bit of dog in my cocktail.”

You shake your head slowly. Your mouth opens and closes, but you try your best to get through your shock (and a lance of fear). Your head tilts as you consider his kind, very human blue eyes.

“You, um, your name is Joshua?” you say at last.

“Yes, Joshua,” he nods. “Rescue party.”

You blink at that. “You…helped get me out of there?”

He nods again, with a smile that flashes a few canine pointed teeth. You rest a hand over your wildly beating heart. 

“Thank…you,” you manage. 

Joshua bobs his head. “No problem. Saved Alec’s mate.”

If possible, your eyes widen further at that one. You turn back to Alec with raised brows. He offers a wan smile and a nervous chuckle. You notice, however, that he hasn’t let go of you. You’re also still sitting across his lap. 

“This is what you were hiding from me,” you say, perhaps stating the obvious. Your heart clenches with pain. “Why you…”

He brushes his hand along your arm. 

“I was trying to protect you,” Alec says. His brows furrow as his green-eyed gaze veers away from your face, with shame. “But I failed, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. None of this was supposed to happen—”

Some instinct has you reaching out to sooth your hand along his cheek, stopping his lips with your thumb. You stare up into his eyes, and they’re no longer guarded or distant. They’re the eyes you remember. 

Whatever you are, you’re mine.

You lean up and press your lips to his.

After a beat, Alec’s eyes close, and he answers you in kind. His fingers sink into your knotted hair. You grip his shirt by the collar, and he wraps his arm securely around you. 

With each new kiss, you feel more relieved. You don’t realize you’re trembling until he clasps your shaking hand against his cheek, to steady you. 

Alec gives you one more searing kiss before he pulls you into his arms. It’s a hug you both need.

His eyes shut tight as he buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent. His lips find the mark he’d left weeks ago on your skin. It’s faint by now, but it’s still there. He takes deep breaths to calm himself, and you rub his back through it. 

He realizes you’re comforting him now; a fact that makes him smile.

You’re mine, instinct tells him. And this time, he just can’t fight it. 

Logan houses you and Alec for the night (or the morning, since dawn breaks by the time you all get back). 

You’re exhausted, but you still force yourself to shower. You’ll have to remind yourself to thank Logan for the spare clothing, though you don’t bother with the sweatpants just opt for the large shirt as you roll into bed. 

Alec isn’t far behind after he takes a quick shower. You force yourself to stay awake, waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. His skin glistens when he eventually leaves the bathroom, and you watch him cross the bedroom with just a towel low on his hips. He shoots you a smile before he starts getting dressed.

“Logan says he’s help us find a new place to live,” he says. 

You slowly smile at that. “Us?”

“Well, you know, both of our apartments are compromised.”

“Yeah, I get that,” you reply. When he slides into bed next to you, you swim through the covers and inch closer to him. “I’m just glad it’s a together thing.”

Alec gives you an amused look, but there’s warmth in his eyes. He thumbs at your lower lip. Soon, his smile begins to fall.

“I didn’t want to get you caught up in this. In my crazy fucked up life,” he says. 

“I know,” you sigh. “But I’m in it now. I’m in this with you. You realize that, right?”

He nods, though he doesn’t think he deserves it. Or you, for that matter. 

He slips his arm around you, just the same. You rest your head against his shoulder and tap his chin. 

“Alec, I don’t care what you are,” you say. “Transgenic or not, you’re the man I’ve always known.”

He lets out a subtle breath at that, chuckling. 

“For better or worse, right?” he asks.

You smile. “I have something to tell you…though I’m pretty sure you already know.”

Despite a tremor of nerves, a slow grin spreads across his face. 

“Tell me anyway,” he says. “I love surprises where I know the answer.”

You giggle. “You sure about that?”

“Yes,” he nods with a smirk. “Just tell me, woman.”

Your hand drifts down to rest against his chest, and you tilt up your face so you can meet his dancing eyes. The fact that he seems genuine gives you enough courage to just…say it.

“Alec, I’m pregnant,” you tell him.

His smile grows.

“…Really?” he teases. “You sure it’s mine?”

You gasp, laughing, and you shove against his chest. You twist away from the cage of his arms, but he laughs and doesn’t let you so easily escape. You realize then how truly strong he is when he rolls you under him on the bed. 

He dips down and claims you with a kiss. He shakes his head, because he never thought this would be his life. His hand sneaks under the sheets to rest over your lower belly, through the shirt. In turn, you cover his hand. You bite your lip with slight anxiety.  

“You’re really okay with this?” you ask. “Even after everything we…this is a lot for us. Really soon.”

Alec gradually sobers, and he acknowledges that with a nod.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Honestly, I didn’t see this coming.”

You have to laugh a little at that. His lips tug at the corners, but as he squeezes your hand back, he stares directly into your eyes.  

“But I’m not letting you do this alone. I… I love you,” he admits. “Sorry it took me so long to figure it out.”

Tears burn in your eyes, but only one finds its way down your cheek. You take in a tremulous breath and nod. 

“I love you too,” you reply. Though you can’t hide a different uncertainty when you look at him. “But if you leave me again…Alec, I can’t.”

He looks more vehement than you’ve ever seen him when he shakes his head, meeting your gaze. 

“That’s not happening. I promise,” he says. “You’re stuck with me, baby. So much that you might just get sick of me.”

You utter a laugh through your tears, and you nod in acceptance. Alec smiles and wipes your cheek dry before he gathers you tighter into his arms, and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

You relax against his chest with a sigh. His heartbeat thrums steadily under your cheek.

And you finally rest.

AN: And there we have it. 🥹 I truly hope you enjoyed Being Human.

I might come back to add bonus one-shots to this, if you guys are interested in seeing more of their story. 💜 But I hope you'll let me know what you think about how it all shook out here!

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[miss-ingno]

Soft As Silk

Fandom: ragehappy, fahc Ship: one-sided Fiona/Lindsay (aka Fiona got a ~crush) Words: 3.1k Tags: immortal fahc, noir au, 20s fahc, Terms’verse, selkie!Fiona, phoenix!Lindsay, more hints at what Gavin’s deal is, speakeasies, illegal drugs and alcohol

Summary: Fiona joins the Fakes in 1920s Los Santos.

A/N: written for @fionaweek. I used a lot of only lightly researched 20s slang, there'll be a list of translations at the end (in order of appearance).

Read here on Ao3 or Patreon.

***

Ramsey's speakeasy was the place to be in town if you wanted some fun. Even Fiona knew this, as new to this shore as she was. Tonight was her first time downstairs, however, having been twirled across the dancefloor by the blond Brit with the sharp eyes two nights in a row. He was fun, always a proper gentleman about it, and they'd talked about their respective homelands with thinly veiled nostalgia.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he'd approached her the minute she entered, all gallant bows and banter, ushering her to a corner table not far from the dancefloor. The tables to either side were crowded, not so subtly checking the corner table on the regular, envy writ large across faces. Someone was holding court at that table, and while no one dared come close uninvited, they watched those who did with rapture.

Like Fiona, on the arm of the blond Brit.

The crowd and curious onlookers parted for him, marking him as someone well-known in these circles. Fiona’s gaze wandered over the people sitting at the table, heart beating too fast. A part of her expected Ramsey to be the one holding court, but as they stepped up, the woman sitting across from them turned away from her neighbour, conversation petering off.

Fiona’s breath caught.

The woman was simply stunning. She was wearing a red flapper dress with layers of fringe that went from a deep orange to a yellow so bright it was almost white, with gold beading peeking out from under the strings whenever she shifted. White opera gloves wrapped her arms to the elbows in gleaming satin. None of those details mattered, however, compared to the brilliant smile that took Fiona’s breath away.

She had seen the sort of beauty that men went to war for, having spent most of her teenage years in the Aegean sea. The woman met her gaze with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, and Fiona finally understood why the Greeks had been so obsessed with Helen of Troy.

“Here you go, doll,” the blond Brit said, pulling out a chair for Fiona. A sharp retort sat on the tip of her tongue, but before she could rejoin, the woman already answered, making Fiona realize the Brit hadn’t been talking to her.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” she drawled, her voice deeper than Fiona had expected. She folded her gloved hands under her chin, eyeing Fiona up and down. Fiona quirked an eyebrow in return.

“You wanted to see me, Ma’am?”

That pretty mouth quirked into a grin, eyes hooded as she watched Fiona. “Of course, darlin’. Wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t.”

"Of course," Fiona agreed, crossing her arms on top of the table. "I assume I'm supposed to know who you are?"

Next to her, the Brit choked on his drink.

"Possibly." The woman laughed, the honest kind that came from deep within. She held out her hand across the table. "Hi. Lindsay Tuggey."

"Fiona Nova," she returned, shaking Lindsay's hand. "Nice to meet you. I think."

"So," Lindsay said, leaning back and eyeing Fiona over her own drink, bracelets clinking against the glass. "What brings you to our beautiful corner of this world?"

Fiona shrugged one shoulder casually, her silver-grey stole shifting, turning the motion almost supernaturally fluid. She was wearing a simple, black flapper dress with pearl earrings, accentuated by the wavy bob haircut. Lindsay's eyes traced up the stole to the earrings, eyebrows rising ever so slightly.

"I was bored, to be quite honest," she quipped, meeting Lindsay's eyes. "I hear there's fun to be had here."

"Depends on what you call fun," Lindsay drawled, a wide smirk spreading across her lips. Her eyes flickered to her earrings and back. "Fancy jewelry you got there." She let her gaze dip down to Fiona's coat curled around her shoulders like fur before slowly dragging her eyes back up. "Very… unique."

Recognition glittered in her eyes, and Fiona tensed at the implication, one hand rising to lay on her coat. But she caught herself, smoothly redirecting her hand to gesture to the pearls.

"Oh these?" Her laughter sounded forced even to her own ears. "Ah, non. They're faux, I'm afraid. Fake. But don't they look just like the real thing?"

"Just so," Lindsay murmured, quirking an eyebrow, before letting it pass. Her eyes lingered on Fiona’s stole a moment longer, making the hairs on Fiona’s neck stand up. But before she could decide whether or not to leave, Lindsay favoured her with a sharp smile and continued, “I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh?” Fiona eyed her warily, shooting a quick glance at the Brit next to her, who was acting bored but used the pretense to keep an eye on the crowd.

“Indeed.” Lindsay pulled out a thin case of cigarettes, setting one into an elegant, black holder. Gaze locked with Fiona, Lindsay flicked the end with her pointer finger, a flame bursting from the tip, there and gone again. No one else seemed to notice the small display of the extraordinary.

Lindsay pulled, blowing small, delicate rings of smoke before offering the whole thing to Fiona. Fiona took it gingerly, trying not to grimace at the taste.

“What sort of proposition?”

“Well,” Lindsay drawled, taking the fag back and gesturing lazily with it. Her gaze wandered pointedly across the crowd, eagerly pressing close to listen in. “That depends entirely on your definition of ‘fun’.”

Lindsay shot her an exaggerated wink, and Fiona swore her heart skipped a beat.

“Gavin, be a dear and show our friend around, hm?”

The Brit glanced at her quickly, before turning to Lindsay. “She on the up and up?”

“Pos-i-lute-ly,” Lindsay drawled, and Fiona choked on a laugh. Now that was some silly slang she hadn’t come across yet.

“Darb,” the Brit - Gavin - responded, pushing his chair back and standing up. He held out his arm for Fiona like a gentleman, and with one last searching look at Lindsay, Fiona took it.

“You’re staying here?” Fiona couldn’t help but ask.

Lindsay shrugged, gesturing at the other people sitting at the table, pretending hard they weren’t listening. “Gotta punch the bag some more. I’ll be down later.”

***

Downstairs turned out to be much quieter than the above club. The music was just as loud, but nobody was dancing. A game of poker took place at one of the tables, gentlemen of various ages and states of dress smoking cigars. They each had a glass of bootleg at their elbow, talking in low voices while eyeing each other up like sharks. Ramsey sat amongst them, tie loose around his neck and shirt rolled up to the elbows. His face was the most expressive amongst the players, mustache quivering with rage and eyes crinkling with laughter in turn.

Along the short wall of the room stood a bar, the red-headed bartender cleaning glasses and talking to two customers seated on the stools. He caught Fiona’s gaze across the room, his welcoming smile almost hidden in his bushy beard. 

Several stools apart sat a kid in his late teens, huddling in a purple sweater, the only one not dolled up in the entire establishment. Fiona caught a glimpse of little bags of dope he shoved into a messenger bag, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he worked for Ramsey. Something flickered around the edges of him, something slightly off in the way the light caught his glasses. Fiona shivered, unable to look at him long.

Instead, her gaze was caught by a flash of red eyes from the corner behind the kid.

“Don’t worry about him, doll,” Gavin murmured as he tucked her towards the bar. Fiona kept an eye on the vampire regardless. “He’s not here to hurt nobody, promise.”

“Oh yeah, tell it to Sweeney,” Fiona snorted, but let herself be led away.

Gavin just shrugged. “He’s crew.”

The bartender extricated himself from the other two clients as they approached, giving Gavin a nod and Fiona a questioning look. If Fiona didn’t know better, she’d say he was a selkie, too, with his broad stature and nice, round belly. He reminded her of her aunt, she thought, he had that same sort of calm aura.

“Two of your best, Jack,” Gavin ordered, settling onto a stool. Fiona mirrored him.

“Sure thing,” the bartender - Jack, replied, turning to Fiona, “Anything you like in particular?”

“You got any ginger gin?” Fiona quipped, because Jack was a ginger and the local gin mill, apparently.

Jack let out a belly-deep laugh. “You’d get along fine with Jeremy.”

He handed them two tumblers of moonshine, and Fiona took a careful sip. It tasted strongly of peaches, but not in a bad way. She clinked her glass with Gavin’s before taking another swig. “Cheers.”

They ambled over to the poker table. The gentlemen tipped their hats at them, puffing on their cigars. They were wearing suits, ties and vests, though most of them had lost the jacket at some point. Gavin pulled a chair for her, and Fiona blew him a kiss in thanks.

“Deal me in, fellas.”

“There’s some heavy sugar riding on this, Jane,” one of the men piped up, watching her from under the brim of his fedora. “You sure you can keep up?”

Fiona opened her mouth, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but Ramsey waved them off. “I’ll put up her ante.”

“And here I thought she was the limey’s moll!” The men roared in laughter, but Ramsey just quirked a brow as he dealt her in.

“He didn’t even offer to take her coat, Flynt, I don’t know what you expected,” another razzed the first man, or perhaps the joke was directed at Gavin.

“You want beef, old man?” Fiona challenged them both, narrowing her eyes.

Flynt held up his hand, laughing. “Nah, doll, we’re good. Some of us have seen a stole before, it’s all the rage with the dames these days, Sloth.”

They continued bickering while Fiona tugged her coat tighter around her shoulders, meeting Ramsey’s observant gaze.

“Well, fellas? Are we starting or am I playing with pikers?” she taunted, which they denied immediately and with much shouting.

Needless to say, she took great pleasure in taking them for what they were worth. Ramsey didn’t lose the smirk once as he watched her making them eat their words. But when she tried paying him back his dough, he held up his hands. With a calculating glance zozzled gangsters, he offered her his arm and walked her a ways away, Gavin trailing after them with her winnings in a bag.

“Why don’t you show up here tomorrow at noon? Let’s call it a favour for a favour.”

Fiona raised her brows because she wasn’t stupid, she heard what type of man Ramsey was. But then, she had been looking for something shiny to catch her eye, and Lindsay obviously worked for this man. As did the vampire, who had lurked in his corner all night. A curious crew.

“One favour,” she stipulated, and Ramsey barked out a laugh.

“Just the one,” he agreed, clasping her hand in a firm grip. They both knew she would be back more often than that, now that her curiosity was piqued.

***

Working for the Fakes turned out to be pretty fun, all told. They provided her with the goods and a gun to defend herself, and more importantly, the Fakes never went out alone. Her favourite jobs were the ones she was partnered with Gavin. He generally took care of negotiations and deals, and Fiona got to try out various roles like putting on different coats to see how they fit. The bored, rich doll, a baby vamp, the dumb Dora, or even taking a turn at talking herself, all of which made a great whoopee.

Especially when they stole Geoff’s swell Ford Roadster afterwards for a joyride.

They drove way past the speed limit, nearly crashing into oncoming traffic twice and got chased by a fuzzy on horse halfway across the city. Fiona couldn’t stop laughing, and Gavin’s giggles kept setting her off again every time she caught her breath. But they shook the fella off somewhere around the public park, so everything was jake.

They ended up on the pier with a basket of sandwiches and a bottle of giggle water between them, legs dangling above the water as they exchanged stories.

“Go chase yourself!” Fiona laughed after a particularly outrageous story that involved a bank heist and duck masks.

“It’s true!” Gavin insisted, unable to keep his giggles to himself as he gestured with the bottle. “I even got Ryan to wear one, swear on God and cross my heart!”

“The vamp?” Fiona questioned, nose wrinkling as she snatched the bottle back and took a swig herself. Gavin shot her a careful look.

“In some senses of that word, yes.”

“Bull,” she called, dodging as Gavin tried to swipe the bottle back. “There’s no way Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass agreed to that.”

“Did too,” Gavin laughed, tackling her. She instinctively let go of the bottle to grab hold of her coat, and Gavin rolled off her with his prize, smirking. “So what’s your most fantastical tale?”

Fiona hummed, shrugging off her coat and shifting to sit on top of it, just to be sure. Gavin was watching her with too clever eyes, smirk slipping. He offered her the bottle back, like some sort of apology, but she wasn’t gonna say no to more midday booze.

“I used to have this fat pet rabbit. I called him Chungus.” She tilted her head back, letting the breeze brush over her skin. It smelt of sea salt mixed with the stink of oil.

“And?” Gavin leaned forward, clearly curious. Fiona smirked.

“And that’s it. That’s the craziest thing I’ve seen.”

Gavin sputtered and Fiona laughed, chucking the rest of the booze in one long gulp.

“Bushwa!” Gavin called, even as Fiona dangled the bottle upside down to prove its emptiness, her eyebrows dancing merrily. “I call bull! No way that’s the extent of your adventures.”

Fiona shrugged one shoulder, before pushing both of her fists to her cheeks, smushing her lips together. “It had cheeks like this. All chunky and adorable.”

“Bushwa,” Gavin repeated, pinching her cheek. Fiona batted her lashes at him.

“It was so cute, Gav! Just adorable!”

Laughing, Gavin snatched the empty bottle from her lap, twirling it between his idle fingers. “Okay, alright. Your craziest story, then.”

Fiona dropped her hands in her lap, humming thoughtfully. She stared out to the sea, listening to the waves crashing against the pier. It sounded different than the cliffs she was used to, but still soothingly familiar.

“You ever see a dame so beautiful you would drown for her?”

Gavin choked, the bottle tumbling from his fingers and landing with a splash in the murky waters below. Fiona thumped his back helpfully.

“Is this about your crush on Lindsay?” he finally sputtered, trying to slap her hand away. So rude.

“As if you don’t have a crush on her, too,” Fiona parried, sniffing haughtily. “As if anyone with eyes doesn’t have a crush on her, hello? Have you met Lindsay?”

“I mean, duh.” Gavin shook his head. “But I wouldn’t do that to my boi.”

“You mean Michael?” Fiona tilted her head, but she hadn’t seen Michael and Lindsay together yet. “He got a crush on her, too?”

Gavin shrugged. “They have… something. I don’t know. I won’t come between them, though.”

“Bummer,” Fiona murmured. She figured there was more to that story, because she could’ve wagered Gavin and Michael had a thing, instead. Or maybe too was the right word. Trying to lift the tension, she joked, “and here I thought I finally met a classy dame I had a chance with!”

Gavin elbowed her, so she shoved back. They squabbled for several moments, as if to make up for the serious mood they’ve fallen into. The playful slap fight turned into a tickle fight instead, until they both lay on the wooden pier, panting for breath.

“I met a siren once,” Gavin admitted, startling Fiona. She pushed up onto her elbows and watched him from the corner of her eyes. “Back when I was travelling by ship.”

When he fled Britain for the new world, she surmised. She wondered what happened, but knew better than to ask. Instead, she went for the more important question.

“Oh yeah? How come you’re still alive then?”

“Who says I survived?” Gavin mused with a faux philosophical air, turning a smirk her way. She slapped his elbow in retaliation. “‘Sides, maybe she fancied me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Fiona scoffed, flopping back down while Gavin sat up, pulling his legs under himself.

There was a familiar sort of longing in his eyes, the way he stared out at the sea. As if he didn’t belong on land. Fiona knew that feeling very well, and it made her curious. Gavin had seemed human to her from the first moment she met him, but he surrounded himself with people who were… more. Like Lindsay, or Michael, or the ghost that haunted their speakeasy slash headquarters. And apparently met a siren and lived to tell the tale.

“You wanna go for a swim?” Fiona asked, impulsively. Gavin blinked and turned to look at her.

“Here? At the docks?”

Fiona shrugged, the straps of her dress falling off her shoulders. “Where else?”

Without waiting for Gavin’s response, she shimmied out of her dress, kicking off her shoes and rolling the hose down her gams. Then while he was busy sputtering and blushing, she picked up her coat and ran for the edge of the pier, slipping the coat on just as she leapt.

Diving in a high arc, a seal splashed into the waters below.

When she resurfaced, Gavin was leaning over the pier, peering down at her. Fiona stared back, clapping her flappers against her tummy to make funny noises, then giggling to herself. Gavin just stared down at her, shocked. But before doubt could sneak in and make her second guess her decision to reveal herself, he started cooing, hearts visibly in his eyes.

“Oh my God! Look at you! You’re so cute!” He leaned down and reached out for her, and she bumped her nose against his fingers, making him squee. “Your fur’s so soft! Softer than silk! And your nose is wet! You’re so chubby, oh gosh!”

Fiona snickered, throwing herself around and splashing Gavin with her fin. The indignant squawk was worth it.

“Oh, you’re on!” Gavin yelped, and with another splash, he joined her in the water.

So worth it.

*

speakeasy - a bar selling illegal alcohol

doll, dame - woman

fag - cigarette

on the up and up - legitimate, honest

pos-i-lute-ly - affirmative, mixture of positive + absolutely

darb - great

punch the bag - small talk

bootleg - illegal alcohol

dope - drugs

tell it to Sweeney - tell it to someone who’ll believe you

gin mill - seller of hard liquor

moonshine - homebrewed whiskey

fella - guy

heavy sugar - a lot of money

Jane - any woman

limey - a British person

moll - someone’s girlfriend

razz - to make fun of, tease

beef - a problem

piker - coward

dough - money

zozzled - drunk

baby vamp - a pretty or popular woman (usually a student)

dumb Dora - an unintelligent woman 

whoopee - wild fun, a good time

fuzzy - a cop on patrol

jake - fine (as in everything’s jake/fine)

giggle water - alcohol

Go chase yourself! - Get out of here!

bushwa - bullshit

gams - legs

[rpmaniac]

Dun dun dun dun dun

[sorcererinthestars]

dduuddee!! I just saw your AH elemental post and all i can think about is this crew of anti-hero/criminals wreaking havoc around Los Santos but also helping out the citizens too. Kind of like evil X-Men but also more modernized and no matching outfits, just like the regular crew aesthetic.

And: Just read your elemental au and I would LOVE to hear any ideas on how they got together - especially with that typical X-men style twist of “they were causing destruction to others (or to themselves by holding their powers in too much) and the crew taught them how to control it” - ilookbetterinslomo

also shit this got long, adding a line break...

based on this post

-

Okay but listen... would it be bad to admit I haven’t seen the OG X-Men for like... fifteen years? And I remember almost none of it. So any parallels to that squad is very much coincidental (... runs off to watch)

I really agree with @fornhaus‘ idea of them being a sort of ‘anti-hero’. Like, this crew of baddies are typical FAHC. They’ll run heists and be absolute shits to the LSPD. But in this world, superpowers are forbidden. They’re criminals by nature of having these elemental abilities, of being able to channel the power of the universe through their bodies, and because of that - why not cause havoc? In for a penny, in for a pound, right? They’re already on the Most Wanted list. Perhaps the group was a result of a government experiment gone wrong. Looking to expand a human’s capacity to withstand the universe’s machinations, they start testing folks who already have signs of pyschic awareness. I think the boys get snatched in different ways, in different government organizations all around the world. Michael and Jeremy and Fiona were street kids, always running away from their orphanages in Boston, New York, and New Jersey. No one notices when they are stolen, brought to government facilities, tested upon until they develop the latent elemental powers. Maybe these powers aren’t even organic. Perhaps they’re the result of an experimental serum developed to make super soldiers, given to people that won’t be missed if things go wrong. 

Gavin is a expat Brit who gets lost in the system.  Geoff and Jack may have been actual volunteers. They didn’t know. They couldn’t have known. The money was good. Until their lives weren’t worth the payment. Trevor was a fucking scientist, excited for the possibilities, until he realizes just what it does to the body and the mind. Lindsay and Alfredo and Matt were sucked into it too.

I don’t think the elemental transformation was easy. I think it was - is - terrifying. It is the fundamental rewriting of human biology, after all. Maybe Jack and Geoff are the first to burst out, to use their powers to break from the facilities and run for it, taking off with the few things they still have. They live on the run for a while before trying to expose the inhumane work that is happening inside the gov’t facilities. But I doubt that works very well - they have no photos, no proof, nothing other than their powers which they can’t show for fear it would get them dragged back. 

So instead, they start to work to try to gather other escapees and provide them a home. It becomes apparent all the boys have reacted to the serum differently. Everyone has a different elemental manifestation that aligns with their personalities, a different natural phenomenon they have aligned their energies with. 

Geoff and Jack find all of them by following news stories and intuition, gathering together all of the people that are like them. In doing so, they realize they are the oldest - the others are young, barely more than kids. Their powers allow for damage, so much damage, and some of them come with money stolen or killed for. They don’t scold, just buy an apartment in Los Santos for them to hide out in.  That’s when the idea of the Fakes comes to life - they are Faking being normal, of course, so why not Fake being rich? They start to train out in the deserts, understand and unlock their abilities that were before so terrifying and now such a part of themselves. They dodge the police who are looking to capture and bring them back to the facilities that haunt their nightmares.  Thing is, they want to hate everyone for what’s done to them, but they remember being terrified and alone and scraping for pennies. So they give away most of their money to charity, they help people who have nothing. They try to champion the little people and in turn, they become almost superheroes in LS and turn even more animosity against the LSPD as they try to chase them down and arrest them. 

In doing so, in working and living together, they become a fucked up little family. When they have enough money to scatter and lay low - which would be the smart thing to do - they can’t. They won’t. So they stay together, sharing bedrooms and kisses, eating dinner around a communal table, getting the family and love they never got as kids. 

A family of government experiments, a family of freaks, come together to show the world just who the evil ones are. 

[shadeofazmeinya]

Fluff? Consider supernatural Witch Michael experiments with making a love/desire potion. Feed it to a person you want to spill their beans and watch them confess their soul to the object of their desire. There’s a mixup and Michael, to his horror, thinks the other Lads plus Ryan accidentally took big sips. He spends all day convinced they took a love potion, but no... they just love him. And he never noticed how out of the way they went to show their love to him in tiny ways. ❤️

u sent this forever ago but i figured i should answer haha. But yes this is the cutest thing. Poor Michael, secretly so insecure and not thinking the others would love such an Angry and Destructive soul but then of course doesn’t want to make them love him either. Runs around everywhere trying to fix it without them realizing.

But it would be cute too because Michael would start noticing the little signs that they love him. Like how Gav will part from whatever he’s working on to listen to a story/joke from Michael. How Jeremy will always pat his shoulder when he’s passing by, or nudge him in some way. How Ryan will always be smiling when Michael catches him staring. Just these little things that at first Michael thinks is because of the potion until he has the dawning realization these are things they’ve been doing this whole time. And he’s just been so blind to it before

[archester-creations]

I wanna do the six character drawing meme, so send me in some characters

[daisyachain]

drift and/or drachet for the ask?

ah!!

Drift: overrated little twerp

Dratchet: binary stars trapped in orbit for 4 million years drawing ever-closer until they combine with the light of a supernova

On a more serious note there's been plenty of good Drift analysis out there re: the way his character shifts from McCarthy to Roberts, the way he was written out of MTMTE season 2 to accommodate Megatron, etc. and I have nothing to add to that. Rather, my take is that he's just not that important! Nor that deep! He's a character that serves a purpose and he serves that purpose, he doesn't get the rhaposodic inner monologue of the standouts (Chromedome, Cyclonus, Whirl, Megatron, Magnus), he's a foil character to s1 Magnus/Rodimus before their character arcs kick into gear and he's a supporting character to Ratchet's arc. Reading him as anything more can be fun and interesting but is fundamentally wrong for the story-as-is (if not the story-that-might-have-been)!

Drift the other extreme in the trio of Magnus-Rod-Drift but not in the pessimism <-> optimism way that it seems on the surface. Rather, Magnus is the lawful extreme, he believes that the Law (the Tyrest Accord) is morality and anything that does not match the Law 1:1 cannot be ethical. Rodimus is more pragmatic, he earnestly wants to Do The Right Thing In The Right Way but he sticks to his own vacillating moral code rather than the Law. Drift is the opposite extreme to Magnus because there is nothing he will not do in order to aid the Cause. Why, when he only recently switched sides?

The answer is another aspect of his character that I feel gets overlooked--Drift does not truly have faith. He's had some supernatural experiences which he believes 100% are visions of the future. In other words, he doesn't have faith in a greater power, he specifically trusts the hard evidence of his own senses that tell him there is a real greater power. Cyclonus and Swerve, the two other religious characters onboard, do not have these supernatural experiences. They believe without proof, they need no convincing, their faith encompasses everything in the world.

Drift, on the other hand, believes only what he has seen. He's seen supernatural and inexplicable things, but he doesn't convert out of a sense of peace and understanding, he converts (to Spectralism, to the Autobots) out of a conviction that things are going to go horribly wrong and that connecting with that greater power (the supernatural, Autobot High Command) is the only way to stop it. So, where Magnus embodies procedural justice, Drift embodies consequential justice--Magnus believes only things under the Law can be right, Drift believes that any action is right so long as it brings about the specific future he has seen. He manipulates Chromedome into doing dangerous work by dangling his spouse's life over his head. He drives Red Alert to suicide. He kills a sick, defenseless patient. He's as amoral as Whirl in his actions, but all of this he does because of a belief that Rodimus and the crew have to stay alive.

In short: Drift does believe in auras, life energy, the call of the universe, etc., it's not all a lie because the things he sacrifices to follow his visions are too much for anyone to give up who doesn't believe. He canonically puts on the hippie persona in s1 to be less threatening and insinuate himself better into the crew, the persona is fake but the beliefs are real. So far, so standard. However, his beliefs are...more godfearing than religious. He is pragmatically following a plan to fix his past mistakes and achieve a better future based on evidence which is concrete to him. He has no life philosophy. To treat him as genuinely religious or as fully cynical is incorrect.

Which leads me to Dratchet!! They do not hate each other, they are not enemies (or at least they have no known interactions during the time they are enemies), Ratchet doesn't treat Drift cruelly or even unfairly, if I have to see one more take that says 'Ratchet is so mean to Dwift uwu' I will scream.

I think I've said it before but Drift/Ratchet hinges on them being the only living people able to understand each other. Because they met before the war, Ratchet is the only one who can understand just what drove Drift to become a murderer and join the Decepticons, while Drift is the only one who can understand what has driven Ratchet to passive suicidality. Ratchet is not just a grumpy person, he's a loving idealist who wants to die rather than live in the world and not be of use/not be able to help people anymore. Drift is not just a weirdo who had a change of heart, he's bloodthirsty by the standards of a 4 million year war and has decided use his skills for the opposite side instead.

The lives Drift took are on both their consciences. Ratchet wants Drift to acknowledge the carnage he caused and the hurt he did to him, specifically. He needs Drift to understand what he did to him, Drift is the embodiment of everything in his life that went wrong--he started saving lives (he became a war medic), and because he started saving lives, he caused millions of deaths (he became a key figure in the war). Ratchet desperately wants to get rid of that weight and the only way he can think to do it is a) make Drift feel it, b) die. So he tries! He hates that Drift relies on platitudes because that negates his own role in the story, if Drift comes around to being a good person because he got a ticket to heaven, then that's just him being shallow and selfish. If Drift has changed sides because he recognized that he'd been doing evil, then that's an acknowledgement of the suffering he's caused Ratchet.

What pulls Ratchet out of his spiral is Drift saving him--for once, his actions have a positive consequence, someone comes back for him, someone does for him what he's always done for everyone else. From that moment on he views Drift not just as everything he's done wrong, he also views him as the only thing he's done right, and as these two ideas struggle he grows to love Drift as the only person who ever saw him as a person and not a concept.

Contrariwise, Drift sees Ratchet as every failing of the old regime, he's the embodiment of systemic ills, he's a well-intentioned person who sacrificed everything he had...to achieve nothing. He knows he owes Ratchet his own life and thousands more, but he still blames Ratchet for leaving him in the first place. He desperately wants Ratchet to have saved him truly, not just given him up to the fate that awaited him, but he can't justify asking for that. He knows he doesn't 'deserve' it.

So instead he tries to pay back the life debt he owes. He's atoning for his sins (supporting the Decepticon cause) by achieving good (making sure the future he saw comes to pass) rather than by becoming a good person, so it only makes sense for him to stand by Ratchet and fucking hate it. His arguing with Ratchet isn't over whether Primus exists or visions or rationality or whatever, it's over whether his change of heart is genuine. Ratchet thinks he's just going through the motions for his own benefit, Drift thinks he's made a significant sacrifice to repay his debts for Ratchet's sake, they both resent the other for ignoring their own personal stake in it. Ratchet isn't cruel to Drift, he's calling him on using weirdo status to deflect responsibility for his crimes. Drift isn't defending his beliefs to Ratchet, he's defending the integrity of his new morals. It's a metaphor! If it were really belief vs rationalism, Ratchet would take it up with Cyclonus.

And in spite of this, as Drift puts in his mandatory lifedebt repayment, he gets to know Ratchet as a person and comes to realize just how genuine he used to be and how far he's fallen and how instrumental Drift has been in stamping out every bit of hope he had. When Ratchet comes to take him home, part of it is Ratchet making up for his previous mistakes. He is confronted with an outcast Drift again and he is making absolutely sure that he has a support network and a way back into a community. Yet also it is Drift realizing that Ratchet never really wronged him, that he always tried to save him, that 4 million years of resentment have pretty much come to nothing, and that he's been tormented by something (the systemic injustice of Cybertron) that was far bigger than either of them. So he returns with him.

This is all very incoherent. What I mean to say is: Ratchet is a character made of unconditional love and he extends that love to Drift as he does to any other. Drift is a character who works alone, without support and without restriction, without justification, without boundaries, and he comes to realize he has nothing except Ratchet's love because of the simple fact that it is unconditional. This loops around so that Drift becomes the only one who knows what that cost Ratchet, and the only one who can give that to him in return, secure in the knowledge that whatever Ratchet says doesn't convey what he means, and that he is putting a lifetime in the service of ungrateful causes somewhere where they will mean something.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

No one asked for this, but here’s Lucian meeting Charley for the Vampire Prince au, and Charley trying to get Peter to help him take out Jerry.

Since this is 2011, Peter is a hybrid vampire at this point. Also, Ginger doesn’t live with Lucian and Peter, she’s still just an actress in the show (so she gets to live in this au, good for her!).

On with the fic!

--

“Lucian!” 

Peter’s voice called out across the crowded room and Lucian turned, looking at his husband, still dressed in his full costume. There was a young man standing by him, who clearly looked like he was not part of the cast and crew, nor one of Peter’s bizarre groupies. 

Lucian raised an eyebrow, but made his way over as he heard Peter ask if this was the man’s first interview. Ah, a reporter, of course.

The man, no, he was too young, he looked to be a teenager, confirmed and Peter grinned, grabbing the boy’s chin. “I’m gonna pop your cherry.”

Of course he had to make this weird, Peter always said the strangest things.

“You needed me, Peter?” Lucian asked as he approached, and Peter turned, his grin now brighter.

“Ah, we’ve got an interview! Bring him upstairs for me, will ya?” Peter asked, then turned to the human. “You’ve got ten minutes.” He said before walking off.

Lucian watched his husband saunter off, rolling his eyes before turning to the human. “Well, come along, before he changes his mind. And he will, he’s very... unpredictable like that.”

The boy frowned, nodding, then followed after Lucian as they made their way towards the lifts. “So,” Lucian started, “do you have a name?”

“It’s, uh, it’s Charley.” The boy said.

“And mine is Lucian.” The lycan smiled, trying to be polite as the lift went up. He was quick to put in the code for the penthouse floor. They arrived quickly, and the doors opened to the weapons hall.

Charley looked on in shock and awe at the large collection, even though this was just part of it, there was more. After all, this was nearly four hundred years worth of collecting. And many drunken nights of online auctioning, thanks to Peter. 

“Wow! This is all his stuff?” Charley asked, stepping into the hall and Lucian chuckled.

“In a sense, yes. He started collecting when he was young, and with the rise of supernatural interest from h- young people, he was able to add more to his collection.” Lucian said, walking with the human through the hall.

Now, Peter was typically the one who show off the collection, but Lucian thought it might be interesting to at least give a small tour, since he wasn’t sure if Peter had arrived yet, taking the other entrance. “Much of it is real, with some fakes here and there.”

He gestured to an open box, filled with vials and tools, a crucifix in ‘silver’. “One of those old vampire hunting kits that were sold by snake oil salesmen. The worst it could do to a vampire is probably give them a rash.”

Which it did, when Peter accidentally messed with it after he ‘borrowed’ the case off of some man in England.

“Of course, you have holy water, blessed objects from different holy men of different religions. Tools of the trade from all over the world, different weapons to kill different sorts of creatures, not just vampires.” Lucian pointed out as they passed a silver gun.

They only had it as a last ditch weapon, in case of a different kind of werewolf, Lucian really didn’t like it being in the house, but then again, much of this hall was deadly to Peter himself.

“There’s... so much.” Charley mumbled, stopping at a case, looking at the items on display. “These aren’t weapons.”

Lucian stopped and looked. Inside was a circular band, made of gold, intricately detailed. There were also slips of paper with drawings on them of what looked to be a ceremony, along with writing in both English and Romanian. One of the drawings was also of a man-shaped beast and a human with teeth and blue eyes under the full moon. The human seemed to be wearing the band on his head.

“Ah, those are from the wedding of a vampire prince and a lycan.” Lucian replied.

“A vampire prince? His wife’s a... a werewolf?”

Lucian wanted to laugh at that. “Husband, actually. And lycans are not werewolves, they are of a similar group, but their own people.”

Charley just nodded. “Right, uh, there sure is a lot of stuff.” He said as he looked at weapons lined along the walls. All of those were real, Lucian should know, some of them were of his own making.

“Oh yes, his collection is one of the best in the world. Scholars come to him for answers.” Who better to tell you things of vampires than a vampire himself.

“It’s not just weapons.” The lycan spoke. “Haunted items, cursed, things from different eras of English history. A few items from Romania...”

“That’s where a lot of vampires come from.”

Lucian made a face. “Yes, I suppose so. Oh, on that wall is his honorary degree from LVSU. It’s fake, you can get it online. The one under it is real, it’s from an acting school, so you can at least take his acting as real.” 

Charley just looked at him funny, but Lucian smiled. 

“Uh, you seem to know a lot about him. Are you his assistant? Manager...?” 

Before Lucian could answer, they had walked into the main room, where Peter was at the fire pit, yelping at he seemed to get burnt on his fingertips, trying to light the pit with the pyro device under his sleeve. Again. “Fuck!” He hissed, putting his fingers to his mouth before looking up, smiling around the digits.

“Ah, you’re here! Was wonderin’ if you got lost!” He approached Lucian. “Did you give him a tour? Should start chargin’ people, ‘s practically a museum anyway.”

He kissed Lucian on the lips, the human watching with surprise, before Peter stepped away, working on removing his leather jacket. Lucian chuckled and turned to Charlie. “I’m his husband.” He finally replied.

Charley stammered. “O-oh, I thought... I heard that he...”

“We prefer to keep things private with our marriage, to be honest.” Lucian commented. “He’s a flirt, but he never brings anyone up here.”

“So, all those stories are...”

“Rumors!” Peter called from somewhere in the penthouse, probably over by the... ah, yes, the bar, Lucian thought as he stepped towards the pit, seeing the vampire over there, removing his wig. “Lots of sexy rumors! Some started by yours truly, just because it’s so much fun.”

“Yes, and then we have to fix those rumors when things get out of hand.” Lucian huffed, sitting down in a chair, motioning for the human to do the same.

Peter snorted, rubbing at his hair to get it somewhat styled. “Yeah, well... whatever, babe. Anyway! Interview time! You wanna drink, kid, or are you not allowed to drink on the job?”

“Uhh... a bit young for it.” Charley pointed out and Peter paused in pouring himself a glass of that nasty green drink he liked.

Then he shrugged. “Alright, suit yourself. You Americans and your age limit thingy.” He walked over, making a face as he tried to fix his pants and... oh, this man, four hundred years old and still didn’t know how to behave himself around people.

He sat himself down, still adjusting himself and Lucian loudly coughed. Peter stopped, blinked, then grinned, removing his hand. “Yeah, sorry, leather, hot as fuck in more ways than one, and can’t breath worth shit!”

“Classy.” Lucian commented and Peter stuck out his tongue at him.

“So,” the vampire turned to the human, “I’m your vampire expert? Hm? Alright, what do you need to know for this... article or whatever you’re doin’? I mean, I guess I’m the best you’ve got in this city, unless if you wanna go about tryin’ to contact all those horny women writing bad vampire love stories cause of... uhh...” 

Peter made a face, trying to think, then took a drink before removing the fake beard from his face. “Whatever the fuck her name is, I dunno, that Mormon lady who doesn’t know what the fuck a vampire is. Right, so, yeah, questions! Whatcha got, I’m sure I’ve got answers!”

And it went downhill from there.

--

Charley asked how to kill a vampire and Peter gave his answers, the usual stuff really. You know, fire, beheading, stake through the heart, he even jazzed it up a bit by saying you could make ‘em a big, garlic-y omelet. 

And then it was revealed this wasn’t an interview, this was the boy actually asking for help to kill his neighbor. And Peter was quick to stop this because he was not going to go down that messy road again. 

“No, I don’t do that.” He said, his tone serious. “I kill scantly clad women on stage for drunk goths and tourist four times a bloody week, I don’t go out and kill vampires for real.”

Not anymore, not since 2003. 

Not since Lucian nearly died and they lost so many friends. He retired from hunting vampires that night as he held his sickly husband in his arms, helping him through the pain of pushing out silver nitrate from his body so he wouldn’t die.

Peter got up from his seat, setting down his glass, moving to walk away, but Charley was quick, pulling out papers and such he had been carrying with him.

“No, I really need your help! You’re the only one I know who can do this! Please, he’s gotten my friends, I know he has! I watched him attack someone, she died because of him!”

Peter turned, glaring down at Charley. “I don’t kill vampires.” He said, trying to make his point final.

Lucian stood up from his seat, looking at Peter with a frown. “Peter, I think he’s serious.” Lucian spoke in his native tongue so Charley wouldn’t understand.

“I get that, I do, but I am not coming out of retirement for what could be a trick. How the fuck do I know for certain this kid isn’t just tryin’ to mess with me. I haven’t heard anything about any vampire attacks, and I know you haven’t, you would’ve told me.” He replied in Romanian. 

Of course he would have, Lucian never hid this sort of thing from Peter. While Peter was retired, Lucian still kept an eye on things, just to make sure none of the vampires from Europe tracked them down.  

“At the very least, we should look into it.” Lucian argued.

“I don’t...” Peter groaned, walking to the bar, making himself a new drink, “babe, I don’t want to do this. I’m not going to go out on some wild goose chase because some dumb kid asked.”

“Then what if I went out and looked into it?”

Peter looked right at him, eyes wide, and he shook his head. “No, no. Fuck to the no! You are not going to look into it!”

“Peter, I’ll be fine.”

“But what if they-!”

“No one will have anything to harm me, I’ll be alright. I know you still worry about what happened with Kraven, but it’s been eight years, I’ll be alright, love.” Lucian smiled and damn him for being so good at making Peter cave like this. 

He coughed, took a long drink from his glass, then set it down. “Fine, fine! Whatever, just... be careful, and get that weirdo out of here, alright?”

Lucian nodded, then turned to Charley, speaking softly to him before taking the papers from his hands when they were offered to him. He set them aside before walking the human out of the room.

Peter sighed loudly, dramatically, before downing the rest of his drink and going for the blood he kept in the mini fridge under the bar, time for a fucking Bloody Mary if this was the night he was gonna have.

--

I’m still trying to think of what happens in the apartment during the whole Dead Ed attack, because Ginger isn’t killed in this, but I don’t want Lucian there because I want Peter to panic and run to the safe room, especially when he realizes that Ed works for Jerry.

Also, I didn’t include Peter learning Jerry’s name because he knows it already, he just hasn’t seen the guy in centuries. 

And sorry about going into weird detail with the weapons hall, I am just utterly fascinated with the set and the collection, and love the idea that Peter’s got so much shit, including stuff from his own life in there since he is a vampire prince. His own ego making him display his own vampire-y things, the loser. 

[rtwritingcommunity]

Secret Skeleton 2021: Masterpost

Here are the fics our members created for Secret Skeleton 2021! Thank you to everyone who participated!

On reflection, vampires aren’t that scary - Tallowwood, rated T

Trevor is turned into a vampire, Alfredo doesn't seem terribly bothered by this.

Spooky, Scary, Werewolf Boyfriend - everamazingfe, rated T

Geoff, a rough and tumble punk, and Gavin, a soft spoken and pastel wearing college student, have been together for over a year. People always wonder if they’re even compatible, but neither of them could ever see themselves with anyone else. There’s just one problem. Gavin doesn’t know that Geoff is a werewolf, and he worries that it could ruin their relationship if he were to ever find out.

What Lurks in the Shadows - sorcererinslytherin, not rated

Stealing cargo from wrecked spaceships is a good way to turn a profit. But when the crew of the 'Achieve' drift past a derelict cargo vessel flipping end over end, they have to weigh the pros and the cons. Why is all the crew gone? Why would they abandon expensive cargo? ... And why is everything so goddamn dark?

To Hell with Good Intentions, To Hell is Where I’ll Go - nerdyghostgirl, rated M

When a meeting with a rival gang goes south it’s Alfredo that gets caught in the middle. Are the bonds between the members of the Fake AH Crew strong enough to handle whatever storm is heading their way or will this living nightmare be the thing to tear them apart?

Trick-or-Treat! - VaioTheGayLizard, rated T

Jeremy has a special Halloween heist in mind for them and Gavin, and they might have a bit of an ulterior motive... if Gavin even picks up on their cues, that is.

One Dumb Joke Away - ShyAFWriter, rated M

It's Halloween, and a curse has descended on the unwitting residents of Los Santos. Trevor and Alfredo seem to be the only members of the crew unaffected - but that doesn't mean they're safe.

Spook Hunters - Uy8hg, rated G

Jeremy is sure his apartment is haunted, so who better to hunt ghosts than the town's most feared criminals? They're definitely not scared at all.

Kindred Spirits - ShadeOfAzmeinya, rated T

Trevor had been perfectly content with the quiet life he and Alfredo have made for themselves. A little cottage in the woods, hidden from any obvious view. A garden and space to forage to survive on their own, since villages weren’t dependable to be welcoming to those gifted with magic. But it was an ideal life for a witch and his familiar.

Until they suddenly meet a mysterious pair that needs their help.

Monster M-AH-s - jusst_you_wait, rated G

Trevor can't believe that he's the only one that's noticed the office is full of monsters. Not when everyone is so bad at hiding it that is.

5 times AH was oblivious to the fact that they're all secretly monsters, and 1 time they weren't.

Things That Don’t Come Up In Conversation - doolray, rated G

In terms of things-Michael-didn’t-expect-to-happen-today, one of his boyfriends turning into a wolf was certainly up there.

Local Legends - futureboy, rated T

Trevor Collins, reporting on the supernatural entities of Stardew Valley, encounters a particularly helpful local who epitomizes the cultural generosity of the area - he's smart, considerate, and super brave to boot.

Right?

[cannibalisticcorpse]

didnt get tagged but im high and realllllly wanted to do this

How many works do you have on AO3?

63

What’s your total AO3 word count?

214,757

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Dream Team/dsmp, Achievement Hunter/fahc, Cow Chop/fake chop, Red vs Blue, RWBY, Wolf 359, (and these are all deleted/orphaned now) voltron, supernatural

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

i promise the titles do not reflect me as a person

1. The Dick Pic Fic - 1884 kudos

2. the text fic - 1136 kudos

3. The Kitten Fic - 589 kudos

4. The Cup Fic - 516 kudos

5. The Piss Fic - 406 kudos

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

i try to, but sometimes i get like.... the same comment so many times that i cant really say anything more on it yk. but i usually try to say thank you at least T-T

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Cassiopeia and Cephus - GeorgeNotFound/DreamWasTaken, T, 1,187 words, among us AU, additional warnings in note

summary: Dream leans in and whispers, “George you’re supposed to be Cetus the sea monster, and I’m Andromeda, cast in stone.”

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I wrote fake ah crew/john wick where trevor was just... john wick.... that's it tho. i think it'd be fun to write a dsmp fic where every british person just talked like gavin but i dont think that's a crossover technically...

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...... i had a member of a youtuber group i have a tattoo on my shoulder of read one of my fics, a gorey smut fic, out loud, live, to over 1k people and then he read my twitter @ at the end of it. (and this was just 1 instance)

:biteslip: so yeah i guess you could say i've received hundereds of death threats and other nasty shit

i will say most of it is deserved to be fair

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

uh.......

yes. i have a kink request fic going so that's like..... everything? idk i usually write to vent and that means i write violent stuff sometimes and that gets turned into smut

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of, but i have inspired a lot of fic titles and plots. i had a 13 yr old accuse me of stealing their fic once?? idk i just blocked them

Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

What’s your all time favorite ship?

ummmmm i dont know actually. maybe dnn?? snf? idk

Whats a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

T-T birds, stars and sunshine, the soulmate zombie apoc au

features childhood best friends to loveres bbh/skeppy, meet cute love at first sight karlnapity, and meet cute enemies to lovers dnf

it's such a good au but im so shit at world building for it

What are your writing strengths?

i genuinely don't know, the only common compliment on my writing i can think of is writing characters.... in character.. and dialogue? idk im a good ideas guy kinda

What are your writing weaknesses?

also genuinely dont know but im gonna say describing smells, feel free to tell me if any of u have read any of my shit

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

a few words are nice and cool, but just make it natural and don't over-do it? like if you're fluent in the language or have an editor who is then like pop off and write multi lingual characters, if it's like a whole conversation i beg u to put a translation after it. i only speak eng

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

supernatural

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Concept of Joy :(((( i've been writing it with my partner for over a year and i love it sm...

if u see this and you write, please do this too and tag me at the top so i see it for sure :]]]

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Wrong Universe

Part 9 - It's A Good Life

Summary - When the actor of the show comes face to face with the characters, what can possibly go wrong?

Characters - Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester and basically the entire cast and crew of supernatural.

Warning - Angst, Fluff-ish, Swearing

Catch up here

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean raised his gun and pointed at Jensen.

"Woah! Woah! It's us", Jensen raised up his hands in defence.

"What? I could have shot you", Dean said with an annoyed expression on his face, "What do you want?"

"We have a plan", Jared said.

"Plan? For what? To display us like a museum exhibit or to actually send us home?" Dean muttered.

"Look, what happened...we are sorry. W-we didn't plan on it okay? It was-we are sorry", Jared stammered out an apology.

"And why should we believe you again?" Dean raised an eyebrow at Jared.

"You don't have to believe us. Just consider us your allies. We won't interfere with anything. We'll let you boys to do your thing. If you need anything, just don't hesitate to tell us", Jared said.

"Wait. What is this plan of yours?" Sam said.

"What if you guys did a spell reversal?" Jensen asked, "reverse the spell you used to come here. Can't that send you back to your universe?"

"Archangel grace, the most important element is missing", Sam said and pursed his lips.

"Oh. Uhm-well you-if you come up with some plan, let us know, if you need anything, let us know", Jensen said and looked at the ground.

"You weren't this shy, one hour ago. What changed Ackles?" Dean asked eyeing Jensen warily.

"We had someone drill a bit of common sense into us", Jared shrugged.

"So you guys agree to stay out of our business?" Sam asked.

"If that's wha-"

"I didn't know you both are married. I thought maybe giant over here is married only", Dean said causing Jared and Jensen to both look at Dean confusingly.

"Huh? Oh..uh-yeah we are both married with kids", Jensen looked at Dean and caught Dean's facade slipping a little. A sad smile appeared on Dean's face for a second but then he regained his composure and his cocky self was back.

"You are married to fake Ruby in this Universe too?" Sam asked, his eyebrows shotting up.

"Yes. And Jay is married to fake Sister Jo, if you may say", Jared chuckled.

Jensen and Jared both breathed a sigh of relief when they saw the Winchesters at ease with them. They knew that there would tension between them but at least they were warming up to them again.

"Dude! I married an angel, you married a demon! Ha!" Dean pointed at Sam and laughed.

"Shut up! They are both douchebags", Sam rolled his eyes receiving a "Hey" from both Jared and Jensen.

"I wasn't talking about your wives", Sam raised up his hands in defence, "I was talking about demons and angels in general".

"I can't disagree with you on that", Jensen and pulled out his phone, and showed a picture of his kids to the Winchesters.

"Here. That's JJ, Justice Jay, she is the oldest. That's Arrow, and that's Zeppelin, they are tw-"

"You named your son Zeppelin?" Dean's eyes lit up.

"Ye..ah?"Jensen said.

"That's awesome! What is the name of your kid? Lynyrd Skynyrd? Bon Jovi?" Dean asked Jared.

"No. Their names are Thomas, Austin and Odette", Jared said.

"Boring", Dean said receiving a glare from both Jared and Sam. As if on cue, Jensen's phone went off indicating an incoming video call from his wife.

"I gotta take this call. It's better if y'all keep your mouth shut", Jensen said and received the call.

"Hey, Dee!" Jensen asked in a cheery voice.

"Hey? You didn't call me since morning? Are you okay? Gen told me, there was some problems on set. Everything's fine?" Danneel stopped after the mini rapid fire round.

"Dee, just take a breather. Everything is fi-"

"Is it though, Jensen?" Dean wiggled his eyebrows and came and stood behind Jensen.

"Dean! What are you doing?" Jensen hissed.

"It's only fair after the stunt you pulled on us", Dean raised his eyebrow challengingly at Jensen.

"Oh god! Jensen? Who-why am I seeing two of you? That is...that can't be a glitch. Gen, come over here for a second," Danneel called out.

"Oh sweetheart, nice meeting you. I am Dean Winchester and I'm very much real", Dean winked at her. Jared and Sam erupted into laughter at Dean's teasing.

Jensen was staring daggers at Dean. He should have known Dean would do such a thing.

"Huh? Jay? What. Is. Happening?" Danneel asked and Jensen saw Gen coming into the camera's view.

"Long story short, Dean and Sam are real and they are kind of stuck in our universe at this moment. We need to send them back to their home as fast as possible", Jensen said emphasising on his last words and already plotting Dean's murder in his head.

"What?" Gen said in a high pitched sound and Jensen flipped his camera to show her Jared and Sam who were still recovering from their laughter.

"Jared Tristan Padalecki!" Jared sat up straight, "Why didn't you tell me anything about this all?"

"You wouldn't have believed me", Jared answered sheepishly.

"I need a drink. Thank God, we are not in Vancouver now otherwise we had to deal with four idiots", Gen muttered and Danneel came into the camera's view again.

"Bring me a glass too", Danneel told Gen, "Jensen, be safe please. I know it's all so messed up, don't do anything, that the Winchesters wouldn't do-"

"Now that really narrows it down", Dean said with a cocky smile on his face.

"I'm not talking to you Dean Winchester!" Danneel said, "Just stay safe Jensen. All of you, don't be Winchester stupid. I'll call you later".

Jensen nodded at his wife, "I will be safe".

"I'll keep your husband in check. Bye sweetheart", Dean smirked causing Danneel to blush a little. She smiled at him and disconnected the call.

"I'm gonna kill you Dean", Jensen muttered.

"I would like to see you try. I love your wife, she is feisty", Dean winked at Jensen.

"You're dead Winchester", Jensen said and glared at Dean.

"Don't Jensen! You know Sam's here too", Jared laughed. Dean smirked at Jensen who grumbled a 'son of a bitch' in response.

"So we are okay?" Jared said.

"I guess so. Is....D-I mean the actor who played Dad still on set?" Sam asked.

"I don't think so. He got a call and left the set. Come on, let's go back to the set", Jensen assured.

The Winchesters hesitated but eventually followed the actors to the main set.

"I thought the Winchesters killed you both", Misha looked at the actors. "Not funny", Jensen muttered.

"How do you manage to play Cas? You and him are so...different", Dean said.

"It's called acting", Misha retorted back.

"So now that you both believe we are on your side. What is the plan?" Richard asked.

"Don't know", Dean shrugged.

"So get this", Jared started and Dean grinned at Sam.

"What?" Jared asked.

"Nothing. You and Sam are really similar", Dean chuckled causing Jared to roll his eyes.

"We don't have archangel grace. Cas is MIA. But according to the show, God or Chuck is the same for all the universe. What about Death? Billy?" Jared asked.

The four of them looked at each other. "Smart Padalecki", Dean gave Jared an impressed smile.

"Care to share with the class boys. In case you didn't notice, we need words to understand what you're saying", Richard sassed.

"Oh Gabey, we're gonna summon Death", Dean smirked.

"Death? The Death?" Misha exclaimed.

"Yes", Sam said.

"How?" Alex asked.

"Alex, start watching the show buddy. So you're going to bind Death?" Jensen asked.

"I guess so", Sam frowned, "or we need to find a summoni-"

"Did you really think you can go behind my back and try to defeat me, boys?" Rob suddenly spoke up.

"Robbie?"

"Try again", Rob smirked.

"Chuck."

.

.

Forever taglist - @donnaintx @devil-in-my-boots @amandamdiehl @miss-nerd95

Wrong Universe taglist - @mrswhozeewhatsis @squirrelnotsam @lostlittlenerd @this-is-spn @millieccino

[miss-ingno]

wait can i ask spoilers for your jeremwood dragon au that sounds amazing

You can ask :P

haha, okay, for real though, there’s some things I don’t wanna spoil, but the basic run-down of the Jeremwood Dragon AU is:

it’s a supernatural fahc verse

Jeremy and Ryan are dragons, the rest of them are bog-standard humans and not in the know

Jeremy is relatively young in dragon terms (in his 200s) whereas Ryan is older

Ryan’s hoard used to be the Library of Alexandria, he’s still mad humans burnt it down

Ryan’s current hoard is several warehouses full of diet coke

Jeremy’s hoard is plot-relevant and thus a spoiler :P

Los Santos is Ryan’s territory

there’s some misunderstanding early on in the way Jeremy enters Los Santos due to his backstory (sorry, possibly a spoiler? I don’t yet know how early I want to reveal the why, my outline is still pretty vague)

they fall in love, duh

there’s a threat to Jeremy that needs to be dealt with (backstory-relevant)

oh and here’s the fun twist: Jeremy doesn’t realize Ryan is a dragon too for a long, looooong while

[rpmaniac]

Fake AH Sims - Here be monsters

[sorcererinthestars]

Maybe the crew discussing how long they've been alive for??

They came together over the course of a year or two. For some, that would seem like a long period of time - its 1 (or 2) parts of a lifetime. But for them its like the blink of an eye, like something is driving them together. They all feel a need to go to Los Santos - why, they can’t explain: it’s a bastion of hell, it’s a place of death and fear and rage. There’s no explainable reason to go there, but after so long, they learn to follow these urges when they hit.Geoff is the first to cross the hallowed land of the city. To feel its thrumming in his bones, to breathe its life and walk its streets. He’s only there for ten minutes before he realizes that it’s his. It has to be; it’s just a matter of time before he owns the place. He buys a penthouse and sets himself up as a King. Orchestrating his hold on this City of Sin would take time, but that was a commodity he didn’t have to worry about. He could be extremely patient when he had to be.When the others arrive, all are drawn to that same place, to that penthouse door. It takes time for them to grow at ease with one another, but after so long without a friend… well. How do you explain to someone the weight of decades, let alone centuries? When you find someone like you, you tend to hold on. And hold on tight.Two years later, they’re reclining in the living room of the penthouse after a successful heist, getting drunk on hundred year old red wine and reveling in their victory. Boasting about their roles in a heist, robbing the Bank that Couldn’t Be Robbed, by the Crew that Couldn’t Die. Cackles fill the room, increasingly drunken and warm. They did it. The city was wrapped around their little pinkies. They owned it, hearts beating in time with the thrum of the traffic. It was theirs, down to the lowest of the lowlifes and the highest of the superstars. Los Santos Police Department had practically given up. No one could kill the myths, the legends, the Fake AH Crew. They try, of course, but rumors flood the city now - they say Mogar took a bullet to the throat and laughed as blood, cherry red and vivid, dripped over his lips. They say The Vagabond fought with the strength of ten men even when he was missing part of an arm. They die, they go down, and then rise back up again a few minutes later, whole and wearing a smile ready to set even the kindest of men on fire.Waving his arms, Michael laughs, relating some of his shots and mentioning how much better this was than the trenches. They knew they were all inflicted with the same blessing (curse?) but no one pushed about the knowledge of where they had came from. Their First Death, their Real Death - that was personal. Their life Before…. that was personal too. But drunk on wine and flush with victory, the questions start. And as they start, it becomes a torrential downpour. Michael starts, recounting his time serving in the First World War. His first death, blown to pieces by a mine in front of his best friend. How he served in almost every war since then - he didn’t know anything but how to be a good and loyal soldier. Until he fell in with crime, of course. This, he assured them all, was much more fun. They raise their glasses in toast, red wine shining like blood in their crystal goblets.Ramsey, laughingly, is the youngest (though not by much). Killed while running illegal liquor in the twenties, he continued on with crime. While he may be young in terms of years, he had the experience, and they all heaped on the praise until he was flushed and laughing, standing up and screaming the glory of their crew until they were all red-faced and grinning like loons, screaming the might of the Fake AH Crew into the setting sun.Gavin was a young lordling, killed off during the War of the Roses. He lived a variety of roles since then, from the humblest pickpocket to the richest man in England. He knew how to fit in in the highest courts and among the lowest denizens of crime. It fits his position as their Front-runner. Hackers came with a fascination for computers and a dogged desire to learn when they came on the scene late in his life. He leans against Ryan, wine blood red on his lips curled in a wicked smile, blond hair styled just so, teeth blindly white, and bows his head as they sing his fame.Jack’s also quite old. She wasn’t anyone of huge note, but was killed the first time fighting in the French Revolution, storming the streets and fighting the barricades dressed as a man. She was shot through the heart and pulls down her shirt to show the shimmering scar still there. They all hold their death scars and when they coax her, she screams Vive La Revolution! Vive le FAHC! to a chorus of ground-shaking cheers and stomps and drunken howls. Jeremy admits he was a witch with a callous smirk. Killed in Boston after the Salem Witch Trials. It explains the ring around his neck, hung until dead, and the aversion to water. He assures them all that men could also be witches and with a sly smile, admits that he was one of the few ‘real ones’. He thought for years it was his delving into “witchcraft” - blood sacrifices in the moonlight, dancing naked with his fellow Sisters and Brothers, etc - that gave him his immortality. He admits he’s since learned witchcraft is nothing of the sort, but hasn’t ever lost his taste for blood and sin and riding on the Devil’s dick. He says the end with a wink and leans closer to Michael and is applauded with shrieks of laughter and many, many kisses.Ryan’s last, the least drunk of them all but still sipping out of his decanter. He slowly admits that he was a Roman gladiator, hundreds of years older than even the oldest among them. He was killed as a young man in the Rings and traveled all around the Roman empire, fighting for the thrill and for the glory, changing his name every time he died. He grew to infamy and eventually picked up a life of shadowy crime, muscle and death for anyone who crossed him. Its silent for a moment as they all consider how long he must have been alive, but then a true chant of his name rises up: “Ryan!” “Ryan!” “RYAN!” as he takes an elaborate bow. They all come from different places and different backgrounds, united by both the sense that they cannot die and their desire to make the world quiver under their feet. They are Gods, for all sense and purpose. No doors can hold them out, no life they have not lived. Lying on the couch, wine that costs more than some people make in a lifetime spilling out onto their white carpets, they shriek and laugh and tease. Screaming their glory to the highest heights, laughing at the failure of the LSPD and at their own sick achievements. They are many things, apart. But together, they are the Immortal Fake AH Crew. They are one with the city, they breathe as it breathes, their hearts beat in time with the flashing of the city lights. They own it and it owns them, and they will be there until they turn into legend and song…. the legends of the crew that owned Los Santos. The legend of the Fake AH.

[shadeofazmeinya]

"Easy, easy there" with Monster AU

(im not exactly what you meant by monster au, so i went with @sorcererinslytherin ‘s supernatural fahc au. which features witch!michael and werewolf!jeremy. this ended kinda long so i hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: torture, gore, body horror. I tried to go a bit dark but the worst is done to nameless rival crew members)

words 2k+

“Jeremy,” Michael whispers, trying to lean over to touch him. Nudge him, comfort him. Trying to get a better look. But the bindings on his arms and feet keep him stuck in the chair he’s been dumped into. The ropes have been digging into his skin at this point, rubbing it raw though he doesn’t stop straining. Bruises and cuts litter his body from an overzealous rival crew that seemed far too excited to have gotten their hands on some Fakes.

“Jeremy, wake up. I could really use that fucking wolf strength of yours now,” Michael says, a little louder. “We probably don’t have much fucking time before they come back. I know you’re breathing. I know you’re not asleep, you piece of shit,” he says this but his voice cracks a bit, getting louder as his heart twists. “Jeremy, come on.”

Jeremy stays slumped in his chair with his head hanging, only a faint growl being given in response. He’s been like this since they were brought in. Somewhere since being knocked out and brought here, something happened. Michael wants to break free, get him out, save him from whatever the fuck is happening to him. But he isn’t able to do anything, pathetically pinned in place and removed from his magic since they took his wand. He could try to create a fire or something, like he once did chaotically before he could focus his magic. But he couldn’t afford to hurt Jeremy further.

Michael’s interrupted as the door slams open, several figures stepping into the bare, concrete floor and plastic sheets under them. The two of them have been brought to some abandoned warehouse, most likely a distance out of the city, from Michael’s guess. A fucking stereotypical setting, no imagination, but it does leave them unfortunately isolated.

The rival crew files in, an ugly bunch of tough looking fuck-heads who glare and smirk down at them. One dumps a bag on a small, metal table and rolls it open to reveal an array of torture devices Michael recognizes from Trevor’s own collection. They had some idea of what they were doing. A promise of more pain to come for Michael. But Michael can hold out. He has to, for Jeremy.

“The fuck did you do to him?” Michael snarls to the guy who steps forward, putting on a pair of leather gloves. The man has a permanent smirk, a few scars crossing his cheeks and arms. Definitely a rough looking dude, but Michael doesn’t give a fuck. He knows he’s tougher. While he talks he continues pulling at his binds, trying to work a small break in the ropes he can build off of. He needs to get them out of here. If he can pounce this guy, hopefully he can get to his gun and take out the others too.

“You think we don’t know who you are?” the man says smoothly as he hovers over the tools, looking for which one to pluck. “What you are?”

Michael’s heart quickens, but he keeps a neutral, furious expression. They shouldn’t know about them. They can’t know about them.

“We need to dampen his strength. Silver would’ve helped but we didn’t have that nearby when we grabbed you. But, lucky for your puppy, we had a little wolfsbane on hand,” he says, mouth twisting into a disgusting smirk.

“You fucking poisoned him?” Michael twists in his chair, wishing to be able to wrap his hands around that smug neck and snap it.

“We just needed to keep him more… docile while we do our work.  Which we’re going continue, since I still have a few more questions to ask.”

Another growl from Jeremy, a twitch in his chair. It’s hard to tell how aware he is, behind the pain clearly raging through his system. His hands curl, shaking as his eyes are screwed tight. The tips of his claws threatening to come out as his muscles spasm.

“Well its your lucky day, motherfucker,” Michael glares back at the scarred man. “Because I’m not telling you shit.”

“We’ll have you singing in no time,” the man chuckles darkly, stepping forward. He’s holding something from the table that Michael doesn’t recognize until it sparks on one end, electricity crackling in the air.

Michael doesn’t get any warning before the cattle prod is being plunged to his chest. Michael grits his teeth, stifling a scream that chokes him as the energy painfully contracts every muscle at once. The world flashes white, nothing exists in the moment but agony and torment. He wants to howl, but he can’t let them know they’re hurting him. He won’t give them the fucking satisfaction.

The rivals don’t make it easy, shocking him for longer and longer periods of time. Michael groans and twitches with the shocks, as the pain seizes every muscle, every thought until it passes. Michael’s left panting after every prod though unable to catch his breath before he’s being filled with convulsions. But he doesn’t give them a fucking word. Not while there’s still hope for the others to find them, for Jeremy to be ok.

So long as the attention and torture is on him instead of Jeremy, he can bare it.

The man pauses at one point, throwing the rod across the room in frustration. Michael gets his own smug satisfaction hearing it clatter to the ground after he’s refused yet another question about his crew’s whereabouts or where their base is. Though he can’t gloat fully as he hunches over, gasping for breath. He glances to Jeremy, who’s sweating from his own battle. Looking even more sickly with pale skin and sagging weight.

“You can’t do this forever,” the Scar Face says, stepping towards Michael. He grabs his hair, painfully yanking his head back. “You’re going to give up at some point. You or your fucking-“

A rumble sounds through Jeremy, bursting as he twists more violently, wildly. The wood chair groans under his weight and force. Michael can see hair starting to grow, muscles straining and getting larger. The first signs of what’s to come, bursting out even if he seemed to be trying to hold back. Finally, Jeremy raises his head. His eyes, deep, boring, look up to face their captures. His irises glow a dark, blood red.

Michael’s blood runs cold. He knows what that means. And knows it’s too late.

Michael hasn’t been witness to many of Jeremy’s shifts. Jeremy is often alone during full moon shifts, running off towards the more isolated places in their territory so he doesn’t put the rest of them at risk. From what he knows, it’s always painful and agonizing when it’s forced from him. And Jeremy has little to no control over the Wolf.

The transformation now happens all at once, terrifying as it’s ripped through him. A low, deep growl racks through Jeremy as his arms elongate and grow larger, claws ripping apart the bindings and chair. His teeth sharpen, jaw bursting and lengthening as he roars. He falls over to the ground around the splintered wood, still growing, shifting with breaking and snapping bones.

Michael would smile, laugh and goad to tell this other crew how fucked they are. But there is only fear in him. Even with his magic, he’s pretty sure he’d be helpless against a full transformed Wolf. Tied up and wounded, he’s the one who’s fucked.

A gunshot echoes in the room, a wild miss, but it’s all it takes to set the Wolf off. It pounces in a blink, teeth digging into a man’s neck and ripping the throat out in one fluid motion. Michael ducks from the splatter of blood that coats the floor as the beast jumps to another man, claws and teeth out

Then there is only the Wolf’s snarl and ripping, yelling and cut-off screams from the crew that doesn’t stand a chance against the power of a feral werewolf. In minutes, the room is silent. Michael hadn’t realized he closed his eyes until he’s carefully blinking them open to a world of carnage and ruin. The floor is coated in blood, bodies ripped to pieces and tossed about. And standing there, the Wolf, panting. It’s fur matted, teeth dripping as he muzzles over the last body, still working to make sure it’s dead.

There’s another growl as it lets the body plop from its mouth. And then the Wolf turns to him.

“Jeremy,” Michael says, trying to make his voice calm though it still shakes. He swallows, hands starting to work at the rope faster, harder. “It’s me. You know me, Jeremy.”

The Wolf sniffs, paws as big as Michael’s head trudging through the gore. The claws click on the floor, tail flicking with its ears pressed to the back of his head. It starts moving towards him, teeth barred. Michael’s heart sinks.

“Easy,” Michael says, trying to move back, feet yanking on the binds. “Easy there. Don’t do this. Jeremy, I know you’re in there. Listen to me.”

The Wolf doesn’t stop though, coming right up to him. His nose comes right up to Michael and he can hear every sniff. Michael can feel his breath; the rancid smell hot against his neck. He flinches, straining to keep him throat away from him though he knows he has little luck. The chair starts to tip as Michael leans back, hands straining as they are losing feeling, close to breaking.

“Jeremy,” Michael breathes, voice hitching. “Jeremy, fucking don’t-“

Michael’s eyes screw tight, expecting pain, dreading it. A horrible death. But then, something warm and wet swipes across this face instead. Michael blinks, turning to see the Wolf’s golden, brown eyes staring back at him. There’s gives a low whine as he bumps his head into his chest.

Michael doesn’t cry. But it gets pretty damn close.

“Jer,” he says softly, dropping his forehead to rest against his. “Thank fucking god, Lil J. Can you get me out? We need to get the fuck out of here.”

He gives Michael’s face another lick before pulling off. Michael feels the ropes giving way next, flopping onto the floor with one flick of claws. Michael shakes his arms, stretching and rubbing the raw skin. He makes quick work of the bindings on his legs before pushing himself to stand. The second he does so, the world sways violently. He stumbles, about to fall, before he feels fur pressing to his side, catching him.

Michael hisses through his teeth as he adjusts back to his feet. The pain was stronger now that he was standing, the ghost of the cuts and electricity still fraying every nerve. He glances down to see Jeremy watching him and Michael can read the concern even in this form. The Wolf gives another whine, bumping his head to his shoulder. “I’m alright,” Michael says, brushing through his fur. “Just needed a second. C’mon, let’s find my fucking wand and call the others. Let’s get the fuck home.”

Jeremy huffs, but keeps besides him to let him lean on him as he limps out. Michael can feel shivers run through him, the poison hasn’t finished its course yet. It pulls a frown to Michael’s face, but they can’t do anything about it now. They just have to get out and get home. The others will know what to do then. Or at least Michael can get to his healing potions to help.

They walk out through the horrific scene, stepping around devastated bodies from those who dared to hurt them. Michael finds and plucks his wand from one of the bodies. He adds one insulting kick to the torso, spitting on the man who cut and electrocuted him, who poisoned Jeremy. The lump of meat barely moves but Michael doesn’t fucking care as he grips his wand tightly and staggers away.

Michael sets the place on fire after they step out, the flames quickly encompassing the building. But pressed to his werewolf’s side, shoes covered in blood and body sore and aching, Michael has never felt safer.

[redfire-blackash-whitegold]

"Super””Heroes”

The Fake AH Crew had superpowers. This was no surprise to anyone. It was natural that they should, after all, so many others did. Truly, the world had gotten to a point where it was more strange to not have powers. Not by a large margin, 51/49 in favour of powers, but when it came to important people, powerful people, they almost always had a power of some kind. 

The ones with super-intelligence, they were the engineers, the businessmen, the forerunners of the tech scene, the ones that were known. The super-charismatic ones, they were the politicians, the salesmen, the actors, the ones that got seen. The ones with super-strength, they were the military, the police, the crime bosses. The ones who struck fear. 

So naturally the Fakes were powered, naturally they were incredible and unique in some way or another. Of course they were powered, what was the alternative, that they were just average, every day people able to stand up to gangsters and police officers that were themselves hyper strong, hyper fast, invulnerable, invisible? That would be ridiculous. 

The Fakes were well known, were public figures in their own right. Everyone knew their faces, their names, what they drove, what state they were all originally from. But no one knew what their powers actually were. It was a well kept secret, the one thing the Fakes didn’t give away. It was impressive considering how public they were, how little else they bothered to hide. Sure the LSPD knew, the more important members of the underground knew, but no one was talking and the public was in the dark.

Geoff Ramsey had a superpower. His coffee was always hot. No matter how long he left it, no matter how cold it was outside, Geoff’s coffee was always just at that temperature where if he took a small sip it was perfect and tasty but if he drank too much all at once he would burn the front of his tongue and the gums behind his front teeth. It didn’t apply to other people, if he made a pot of coffee it would be perfect but the second someone else brought it to their lips it would cool just like any normal coffee would. It also meant he could never drink iced coffee, but then, Geoff never liked cold coffee anyway and besides, hot coffee was so much more satisfying to throw at people. 

Lindsay Jones had a superpower. She always knew which way was north. She could, as a result, always estimate which way was east, west, and south, but never with the precision in which she could determine northwards. This helped orient her in the city, she often knew which way downtown was, but it didn’t help her learn the names of streets or roads, didn’t make her any better with directions. Not that she was bad with directions, but she wasn’t supernaturally good with them either. She always joked that she would be the best person to have around if they were in a plane crash and stranded in the woods.

Gavin Free had a superpower. He was immune to flames. He could hold his hand over a candle for hours and not get burned. He was not immune to smoke, nor heat, nor the coals and ashes left after a fire. He could not, for example, walk safely through a burning building after he had set it aflame, at least not without carving black canyons into his lungs and coming to understand on a fundamental level what it was like to be steamed meat or boiled lobster. He left with no scars, just a flat, perfect sunburn that peeled horribly everywhere, even under his clothes. There were no flames that could melt specific sections of flesh, only heat that bored into his skin everywhere.

Ryan Haywood had a superpower. He was a were-caterpillar. Once a month, on the new moon, Ryan would change, would shrink, would leave his clothes behind as he became a small multi-legged creature that could crawl up walls and move only very slowly. He only ate leaves, and was especially vulnerable to being stepped on. He did not control his transformation, and only possessed some memories of the events that transpired while he was in caterpillar form. He was well hidden in that form, the terrarium he had built for himself being the only place anyone in the crew knew where to look for him, let alone anyone outside of the circle of knowledge. This was a blessing and a curse, made for effective hiding, effective escaping if it happened at just the right time, but made accidents far more dangerous, jobs that much more difficult.

Jack Pattillo had a superpower. She was immune to damage from glass. She could not be cut in any way by glass or fibreglass or glass-like plastic. She could be damaged by anything else, just as could anyone. She first discovered this immunity after a horrible car crash that rocketed her part way out the front window. The shattered window failed to give her a single scrape, and even failed to give her the head trauma that might have been associated with being pitched through a double layer of protective glass. Her power did not protect her from the roof crushing her, nor did it protect her from the shard of metal that had lodged itself in her side from the console, but she was at least alive to feel the pain. 

No one else in the FAHC had powers. This had a tendency to surprise those that found out. They were not invincible, not immortal, they couldn’t see the future or turn back time, they had normal, everyday useless powers and most of them didn’t even have that. The Fakes were people, just people, who happened to be good at what they did.