#rattling my cage so hard rn

[llondonfog]

au where meleanor manages to curse the knight's bloodline as she dies, a curse that causes his descendants to be lured by her siren call and kill themselves as they reach their eighteenth birthday

silver starting to see her presence and be caught up in her spell— lilia finding him in strange, dangerous scenarios where as he tries to wake his son from this odd bout of sleepwalking, he hears silver murmuring in an old fae tongue, one that he shouldn't know how to speak and one that chills lilia's blood and nearly stops his heart cold

thank mumble for this imagery as i am currently dying at the thought of silver trying to drown himself and mumbling over and over that there's a woman in the water and she keeps calling for him to join her while lilia is having the panic of his life!!!

the fog that clouds his mind is as dreamy as any cotton coated fantasy he's fallen into, dredging his thoughts sticky and sweet like syrup. it feels comfortable, like he's removed from his body and tucked into bed, with his father's warmest quilt around his shoulders and the sleepy bliss that comes with a kiss to his forehead and the promise of a good night.

only, it isn't his father who stands before him. it is a woman, of clear noble fae birth, a woman so like malleus that he feels the instant awe and majesty of her presence. she has eyes like his prince too; dazzling emeralds, that cut through the thick haze around him with perfect clarity and enamor him with their beauty. she smiles at him, a high and cold thing, and despite himself, he finds every keening ache of his heart so very desperate to please her.

[lotus-pear]

ok i'm an entire month late but here are the results of this competition at last!! i would like to preface this by saying a big thank you to everyone who participated as this was my first time doing smt like this! i'm so glad it was met w so much participation and unique entries, and i genuinely cannot express enough gratitude for the ppl who submitted their version. seeing everyone's individual posts w the diverse amount of art styles and mediums was so cool and i loved each post sm!! so thank you for participating and for your support!! it really does mean the world to me!!

with that, without further ado, let me announce our winners...

FIRST PLACE: @latapadraws

I WAS ABSOLUTEY BLOWN AWAY BY NOT ONLY THE COMPOSITION BUT THE LIGHTING OF THIS PIECE. REALLY. MY JAW IS STILL ON THE FLOOR LOOKING AT IT. the warm golden and red glow like evening rays of sun is so gorgeous not to mention dazai's musing expression. hes soo beautiful in your style op he looks like he was carved from marble. so elegant and sharp.

SECOND PLACE: @thornedarrow, specifically @velaversal

bea oh my god i still get heart eyes whenever i see this. the fuchsia is so gorgeous it looks like whorls of fire and the marble effect of the background is so ethereal. the color palette and rendering in general just astounds me, i feel like i'm on another plane of existence looking at this.

THIRD PLACE: @kokoasci

koko!!!!! i'm always enamored by translucent feel of your pieces and it always looks like rose-tinted glass, i always want to break off a piece and let it melt on my tongue bc it looks so sweet and sugary. said this in the tags but the background also was incredible and dazai kind of reminded me of the mad hatter!! the coy expression, the dramatic pose, the whimsical pastel color palette, the tea spilling from the porcelain cups...100/10 for mood and storytelling

FOURTH PLACE: @sableeira

SABLEEEE OH MY GOD......LIKE WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN.......THIS WAS SUCH AN OUT OF BOX WAY TO LOOK AT THE OG PIECE.....AN ENTHRALLING INTERPRETATION. dazai being haunted by his former self, conveyed through the earthy color palette and dramatic lighting that ties the entire piece together. literally was blown away by how unique this entry was, absolutey incredible

FIFTH PLACE: @shrimpkini

shrimp i'm being so honest rn i want this as a poster and i want it hung on my wall bc my heart still stops every time i look at it. the hard light that casts dazai's entire face into shadow which highlights the red of his eye makes me rattle the bars of my cage every single time, not to mention the rimlight on his entire frame basking the piece is an eerie glow. phenomenal play of lighting. i'm swept off my feet.

[fallenqrowfinch]

warrior cats QSMP AU destroying me rn

Ok basic stuff + mild extras about the blorbos

The og English and Spanish creators, Clanborn. All of them, even if some were of different clans before finding their way to IslandClan, a rather secluded Clan in the middle of a very large lake. They all came there in different ways, some more water-born cats attempting to swim to the other shore on a bet only to be exhausted and drift to the island, the unfortunate being taken on boats by Twolegs, etc. etc.

The Brazilians, ex-shelter cats who escaped the shelter and lived on the streets for a while, before prissy Twolegs, upset that they were maintaining their claim over the streets, found them, sealed them in a cardboard box, and shoved them out to the lake.

The French, idk what their origins should be, but their arrival was by a stupid youtuber dropping bagged cats from drones from clout. They crashed right through IslandClan's thorn barrier around camp btw.

The newest group, still not sure. Maybe a mixed origins? Idk.

Cucurucho is a friendly talking bear :o) Who is a messenger from StarClan (the feds, essentially, look it's hard to merge these universes) :o) Who defo isn't really corrupt and the ones actually running the Clan :o)

Some people's names + roles + some other stuff-

Cellbit - Cellbite, kept the first half of his name that he gained from his vicious streak in the shelter, where he was mostly known for the rattling and eventual breaking or opening of his cage/"cell" doors. Deputy. Had a brief stint in medicine cat training to talk to StarClan more, only thing he can recall is deathberries. Has a tendency to remind everyone of his mate, just as canon Cellbit loves his husband. Technically an atheist (by Warrior's universe terms anyways.) bc he believes StarClan doesn't really have that much power. They were just living cats, no? Death shouldn't grant power or omniscience. Mauled by the "friendly" bear, but isn't believed by many.

Jaiden - Bluebird, has blue fur and is good at catching birds. Warrior, wants to become a medicine cat to see her lost kit again. Trusts Cucurucho, likes talking walks with them, in hopes that maybe StarClan will pass a message to them to ask her to be a medicine cat.

Roier - Spiderrose, very good at climbing trees and has red/rose coloured fur. Warrior. I need to go to sleep. I am running out of ideas.

Bobby - Bouncekit. High energy, silly, dead. Watching over his family and Clan from StarClan. Happy to see Spiderrose and Cellbite together. Misses Bluebird and Spiderrose a lot, aware of StarClan's corruption but can't do anything about it. Hopes Bluebird doesn't become a medicine cat, lest she be caught by StarClan's lies after they start whispering in her ears.

Also feel free to ask questions I leave my askbox open at all times on purpose, replies may be a lil slow bc I'm going to sleep rn and tomorrow I'm catching up on VODs so. Yeah!!

[gamerbearmira]

Art…😧

Some art I did last night and this morning before I get to some asks 👹👹Mirabel really thought it was her fault <\\\33

Sobbing so mf hard rn I love them. So much. (AU by @a-bored-multifandomer )

Can you tell how lonely I am

Isa cheering Mirabel up after her ceremony by teaching her to swim. Because I needed some fluff rn

Dolores can hear de aged Mirabel’s rib cage rattling whenever she coughs and it worries her <\333

Protective Alma. Just. Y’know. Being protective of her family.

I got kinda lazy on this one but Bruno finally seeing his sisters again <3

Also Julieta’s the shortest when they’re in mer form LMAOOOOO 💀💀

I’ll asks soon 😼😼 asks with art might take a while cause I gotta take a break, don’t wanna cramp up my hands 😩🤲

[zalgoid]

hi I just saw your redraw of the iepfb comic panels as your own versions of the crps and I was wondering if I could do the same??!

I think it's super cool btw!!/gen

DO IT!

RATTLING THE BARS OF MY CAGE SO HARD RN

I don’t like own the right to an idea 🧍‍♀️ but thanks for asking now I know to stare at your blog

[morganpdf]

my thoughts are kind of scrambley rn but man it sucks that like. no one knows the history of zines :-( i've seen a lot of people shit on zines for being cringey little fandom things, and like yeah! they were initially created for fan content - which i'm not shitting on, i love seeing/participating in fanzines - but it feels Weird just reducing them to that

idk zines also have a rich history in like. the diy punk scene? counterculture movements? having trouble collecting thoughts but you get the gist. like photocopied zines were cheap & accessible and became a great way to share news/produce comics/tell stories/etc with other people in marginalized communities & while i Know that a lot of art history type shit isnt exactly well known, its always :-( when this isn't acknowledged

[npcdeath]

literally every single action i take rn is hitting me with the most intense deja vu and if it werent for the fact that i KNOW this is a rare pre-migraine symptom i would be losing my mind . i would be rattling the bars of my cage so hard all my bones break . i feel like everything im doing right now is a perfect recreation of something ive done before and its bad news bears for my psychosis if im not careful

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 23.2)

CHAPTER 23.1

WOTN MASTERLIST

Summary: Higher Vampires are known to be incredibly intelligent. Whence, Tybalt of Toussaint may also possess some humanly emotions just like how mortals do.

Warnings: Blood. Gore. Gory. I think I haven't been too descriptive in this part? I don't wanna say any more in the summary. I don't wanna spoil anything. The usual blasphemy.

Words: 3.2k (short, I know. Heh. Should've been included in the last chapter but I didn't. I think this deserves to have an own chapter.) Short but would give such emotions. I hope. 😉

A/N: Ugh. I thought school has been postponed in my country. It should've been postponed. I have no money and I'm terribly not in the mood everyday to even do anything---what about studying then? Updates will be slower because of the anxiety I'm having. Your words help the anxiety lessen a few whenever you comment for WOTN. Heehee! Mwah!

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! I apologize for errors!

Disclaimer: PNG's and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. (All taken from Tumblr so credits to the rightful owners of the gifs) However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be. This has no connection towards the books, games or show. First line was taken from a Geralt quote. (Here in Tumblr) I don't know if it was from the show because I hardly remember lines or scripts. (I'm forgetful as heck) LMAO. But, I can hear him saying it inside my head rn.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

"I run into dilemmas all the time. Situations where it's hard to judge, hard to know what's right, make a decision. This is not one of them. You both disgust me and deserve to die,"

"What---what the bloody fuck, Witcha'?!"

"I didn't peg you to be an adopted vampire who suckles on that hag's slandering, inimical greed for power. You're intelligent. But, you use it for foolish purposes,"

"Feckin' heck! Yer' attacking me now? Want to pick up a battle in the middle of feckin' Bethleheigm's forest?!"

"Tybalt of Toussaint. You and your cunning sorceress wasted my time all along,"

Geralt of Rivia snarled through gritted teeth, the vampire grounded to a tree where the witcher has him pinned with a tough hand on his shoulder, while the other held a blade pointed to his heart, "---have been blood-guilty since the prince has even been born,"

He was certainly led on by their wiles. The sorceress and the higher vampire. Geralt was sure that the queen had no idea as to what they've done; as to what Ingrith has done. From the curse of Makeda's son up until the point where she has been the king's mistress. Though, the witcher knew he was done for all their bullshit that has been put up. All his energy wasted for a devil's snare that he obviously has been caged in.

He should've listened to you instead when you have tried shushing him in the middle of his impulsive decision making with the king. The white wolf trusted more of his knowledge rather than the instincts that his guts have been telling him.

Geralt should've trusted his midget more than himself. Most of the time, his decisions were always the worst if we could talk about what happened in the past.

"I wasn't taken in that time yet, Witcha'! The feckin' sorceress didn't take me before the prince has even been born!"

Tybalt struggled against his hold, fighting off Geralt's strength and trying to shrug his hand away. He could simply wave him in hand to hand combat, their strengths matching with one another. Perhaps, the Higher Vampire was stronger than the witcher. Yet, Geralt's anger was rather compelling versus Tybalt's sudden cedes, "---Guess, the truth always and will be set free no matter how we---!"

The latter heard the blade of his silver sword ripping his fabric apart due to being constraint physically. Geralt growled beneath his chest, vibrating through his armor that startled Rohesia who sat on a piece of log.

As Geralt convinced the old woman to come with, they've left her home. Notwithstanding his newly found strength of convincing or better yet, begging that he somehow catches himself trapped in. He sounded pitiful to be begging from a mortal to save his own human. The witcher couldn't imagine nor see himself to be in his own shoes right at that moment.

They've went on with their journey going back to Kaedwen. Tybalt looking oh-so-dumbfounded to see the woman who he talked to years ago about Geralt's existence---how they wanted this specific witcher to lure them in for another shitful death. Vesemir's prior visits never being mentioned to the vampire because she knows how they were trying to remove them in the continent one by one with their unreasonable rationales.

The white wolf was quiet, utterly speechless when he'd seen the vampire. His teeth tightly gritted together behind close mouth. Jaw set to bark deep profanities as to how he has been foolish not to point fingers at them from the start.

Hence, which is why; in the middle of hunting for a deer, Geralt had wildly attacked Tybalt. Face being punched from the witcher's fist and having no time to draw his sword from his back. The latter stumbled from his attack, but eventually recovered in an inhumane amount of time---at least, a second of using his agility to fight back. His vampire claws itching to grow but he was trying not to use them for what guilt was setting him reluctant over a battle with the witcher.

Tybalt needed the blood that Geralt spat on the ground when he'd given him a strong punch to the face. Their brawl being a release of their own frustrations over each other until the higher vampire began to try and use his invisibility with Geralt that made the witcher huff and growl, making him draw his sword out of his back as Tybalt stood on top of a tree branch, invisible and owning no shadow.

The witcher felt where he was hiding and had to use Igni to push him back. Fire slightly burning the side of his bearded face that instantly regenerated in a few minutes. Geralt's vexation for him even becoming more insufferable when the higher vampire hauled him over to the ground, pinning him down. But, the white wolf's anger was determined to come back to the castle with his cut-off head in his hand.

Resulting onto their current position against a tree with hearts blaring for rage, the witcher's resentment over your heart being kept at a trembling bay for whatever was giving you more and more questions about him.

"This was an endless hunt---Midget was right." he grumbled and barked, sending a nasty scowl.

"She knew?" Tybalt spat with a sardonic laugh, "---I thought it was er' affection that ye' didn't trust---I didn't thought ye' actually don't trust er' at all."

Geralt's conscience tingled with the need to have a battle with him until he was contented. He pushed him further against the wood, his amber glazing with a major amount of fury. Red as people can describe for his fueled wrath for anyone in his way.

Tybalt wasn't fighting back as he could read him through his eyes, indignation filled within them that made him emit a shaky cackle because of how he explained to Ingrith that their horrid truth will eventually be set free in the future. The unlucky fate they had was that Geralt has happened to know it rather than another mortal that they could murder just like the previous ones who Rohesia has spilled the beans over the issue.

But, this was Geralt. Gwynbleidd. The infamous butcher. If he would tell Tybalt how he didn't have feelings, then it was all just a damn lie because he was being controlled over his own spleen.

Tybalt of Toussaint was a cuckoo for even trying to rattle his cage. Geralt's teeth untamely barred as time was being spent with him. His hostility skyrocketing after knowing how he has been fooled.

"Heard the visions inside yer' head when ye' were talking in your sleep, Butcher." a heavy beat of silence, "---Ye' believe she'll eventually leave because it might be the destiny for a lass who lived in another world. Yer' fearful that she'll die in your hands. Scared that she'll leave ye' behind and grow old earlier than ye' do because she ain't no mutant like ye. The fight ye' had with er' was quite entertaining to be honest. Too childish to think that yer' still feckin' that sorceress ye' had. No questions asked. I must prefer to choose the unchaste one if ye' ask me---no wonder you want the woman who makes my palates tingle. She's fresh, young and smells bloody good! Sure enough, she's no vestal as she may seem anymore because I know ye' fucked that woman---oh, fuck ye' bloody mutant!"

Tybalt hasn't finished his sentence about diminishing his old flame and current one. The witcher didn't hesitate but give him a strong jab to his jaw, making Tybalt spit his own blood on the ground with a hearty laugh, earning a grimace from Geralt himself. His jaw tensing and clenching tighter than ever from hearing such things.

The higher vampire grinned like a Cheshire cat, teeth painted in crimson red from how the witcher has made him bust his lip from being punched in the face. He could avoid them if he wanted to, but he felt like his assaults and madness were well deserved for what they both have caused to his family, especially to you. It was about time Geralt would seethe into his own pique. The witcher should've done it since then---but, Tybalt has escaped back in the marketplace; escaping his profound wrath.

"Is the mighty witcher's weakness, a mere mortal who knows nothing of you, yer' past and the continent---were ye' even honest to her? told everythin' about yer' nauseating stories?"

Geralt growled another, his words vibing a snappy snarl as he grumbled so deeply, "Fuck. You went deep inside my head." he held onto his sword's hilt tighter, penetrating the sharp blade onto Tybalt's skin, blood seeping through his clothing which has ignited a deep groan and whimper from the latter.

"---Vampires. I loathe your kind."

The white wolf was about to deepen his blade against his chest, Tybalt's punctured wound oozing of claret blood. Geralt's actions making the old woman gasp from where she sat afar, seeing that they weren't having their little playtime anymore as it was all serious. Blood and wounds involving his interrogation over the Upir.

"Stop...Stop yer' horses," Tybalt whimpered, not knowing whether to laugh or revel in the pain as to how it felt to be stabbed on his chest. This was like an imbecile move for him; to accept such blade for the guilt he was feeling over his actions towards you---a mortal who had no idea what was happening in the first place.

Maybe, there was still a teeny-tiny amount of contrition left inside of him. The baby growing inside being the cause of his sudden compunction and change of events because of what the sorceress in the castle's next move would be and his sincerity would be the least that Ingrith wanted nor hoped to see.

His next words would cause him his life and what will be outside of the castle---for what was waiting for him and of being Ingrith's shadow since the moment he was taken.

Repentance is always achieved when one is left with no choice for his or her sins. Regret and realization for one's mistakes happens in the end. Though, in most cases, people living in malign don't realize it at all.

"It's in the cup! Inside the feckin' cup, alright!" Tybalt sneered and hissed, feeling the blade slowly being pushed further. His candor being answered with dubiety from the latter and a hoarse reply.

"Hmm. What lies must you be playing now. You're distracting me from sticking this blade inside your cold, withering heart, Upir."

The higher vampire held onto his silver blade with his hand, his skin frothing against the sword, palm burning for what Geralt has coated back before they even arrived in Rohesia's hideout. Vampire Oil. He was still dubious about Tybalt despite of being unaware for their clandestine schemes. Geralt never trusted his thirst for sins after all.

Tybalt accepted the pain, letting his skin burn from the blade. More blood seeping out of his fingers from how he tried wretching his sword off his chest. But, with all of Geralt's willpower, he kept the vampire in his place. His shoulder slightly beginning to burn and it took him one look to see Geralt fighting off to use one of his signs. Igni that he was also susceptible with.

"Ve...Venom from a female royal Wyvern, Cockatrice and a mixture of acid from a Bloedzuiger's insides---mixed with a taste that wouldn't let er' know that it is poison she's consuming," he stammered with a whimper, hissing another and growling back when Geralt pushed through the vampire's heart, paying no remorse over stabbing the vital parts of him.

The witcher only answered with silence. A death stare being thrown back, trying to understand what he wanted to say. His brows tightly netted in confusion, dazed and long enough for Tybalt to continue his divulge over Ingrith's secret agendas.

"She...plans to destroy her insides---make her bleed." pause. "---If she's protected by the Djinn where yer' lass could resist Ingrith's magic, then there is no doubt that she could accept the vile that will be passed through her throat. Down...down, through her stomach,"

Her. Was it you? Geralt silently pondered at the thought, the gaze in his eyes faltering and turning livid. Teeth bared for his acrimonious comment said.

"Know when to fuck off with your lies! I'm tired of it!"

Geralt growled, his skepticism made the vampire weakly shake his head for his incredulity, mutely sparing his bleat with a low whimper and growl as he sent daggers over the blade stuck in his chest, "I...I spare my tongue to you when this is all an actual lie,"

The witcher scoffed, knowing that he was making a fool out of himself again and it was making him go on the warpath because he knew that cutting his tongue would be nothing to Tybalt.

"You regenerate. You can't outsmart me this time."

Tybalt's clothing was drenched in his own blood. Fresh cochineal saturating the under tunic concealed before his body armor that the witcher had no problem to prod. The higher vampire breathed deeply through his nose, his eyes mentally telling that he was relinquishing every ploy to achieve the sorceress' goals.

"Behead me then with yer' silver sword, Weccan. Cut all me' limbs and feed me to a Selkiemore. But, yer' little woman's drink shall be poisoned in the night of the feast. Three cups of wild fruit juice given to er'---safe for---safe for her as a token of appreciation and another for what she would gladly ask from the king. However, I do not know what cup is poisoned or what not. That's all I can say."

Geralt was snarling before the vampire. His nose scrunched in contempt. The idea slowly coming to his senses. They plan to poison you without a doubt. He needed to come back to his midget as soon as possible. The witcher will be risking your anger that hasn't faded still. Their poison was strong---potent as other mages or wizards may know that even it would take him effects once consumed.

Come what may, rue did not move the witcher's heart. He'd punctured Tybalt's heart, his blade passing through the body of the Upir who minimally spat blood out of his mouth. The silver sword being coated with more blood, splattering the tree behind him, drips of blood painting wood. A gash being given to his most vital organ.

Geralt knew it would take him months or even decades for such bodily destruction. Howbeit, he'd only punctured him in a part that would exhibit a vast amount of pain for his sufferings to yours; for what pain they've given to you was felt from the witcher. He came with you in terms of physical and spiritual---your existence had him coming in two's when it should've been only himself.

Nonetheless, Geralt of Rivia knew in order to survive was to exterminate each and every one who would hurt you because you were the most vulnerable including Cirilla. The witcher would do just that. Give agony to human or any other kind who breaths in the continent until you were safe and sound; to shed blood as he may see with the lesser evil on his side. As he may now try to see that particular side of it with no doubts.

He was not done with Tybalt as he pushed the blade further until the hilt, his heart clouding in blue when Geralt could know that something was happening again back in the castle---the heavyness going back and forth, every hour of the day dropping stones on his chest for what was happening to you.

Tybalt spat more blood once Geralt forcefully yielded his sword away. Crimson liquid filling the ground, his Ivory hair somehow catching onto the gore he has created in the middle of the forest. The higher vampire will be taking decades to recover---lucky if another higher vampire would help him with his regeneration but they both knew that no grudges will be held after because he gladly accepted the pain.

Gwynbleidd has lifted his blade off Tybalt's heart, staring with no remorse and filled with fury. Tybalt was mumbling onto something he couldn't understand. He could only decipher the words 'she' and 'save' over his anger, clouded thoughts before Geralt held tightly onto the handle of his sword, slashing through Tybalt's jugular with determination. Beheading the vampire with his own actions in silence as his amputated body and head fell onto the wet, bloody ground.

He stared, thoroughly emotionless upon his work, thoughtlessly giving heed to the closed eyes of the former living vampire laying lifeless on the dirtground. Geralt grumbled a hum beneath his raging chest, scowling whilst he took a step to pick up Tybalt's head, leaving his body for whatever fate lays for him because the witcher knew he wasn't entirely dead with the slowest beating of heart.

Rohesia was stunned and speechless over watching the scene afar. The witcher's will and determination being sensed from the distance and she knew that this princess he was trying to save was an important person in his dangerous, ill-fate life for the risk he was willing to take---giving her knowledge that Vesemir have been telling the truth in which Geralt of Rivia looked up to him like a father figure and a son that he may never get to have forever.

If you go back to my chapters, you'll know that I had a hint that this would happen to our precious wittle reader. If anybody remembers or had a hint on what chapter, COMMENT! Mwohahaha! RIP to our boi, Tybalt. You shall be missed. Can’t believe this was my first OC whom I killed off in a story. *sobs*

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[maybebi47]

not to be bisexual but oh my god oh my heart oh my fucking shit have you seen? have you looked? have you observed what im observing rn bc oh my fucking god im loosing it im crying and screaming and banging my head against the wall im rattling the bars of my cage so hard rn

[sorcererinthestars]

please,,,,, provide us,,,, with your favorite,,,,,,, angst fahc myan headcanons 🤲🏼🥺

Hmmmmm angst fahc myan headcanons, you ask? I can deliver these! (sorry for the delay my life is #wild rn)

1. Because Ryan and Michael are two of the Fakes’ attack dogs - the ones that get right up into the line of fire - they’re the ones constantly in the most danger. The two standing side by side on the front lines, gattling guns rattling their bones and their teeth, providing a solid wall of bullets between the others and the death on the other side. They stand stalwart, constantly egging each other on between gritted teeth and bloody hands, teasing each other that they will be the bravest and strongest in the face of oncoming death. That is, until one of them is knocked down, hurt, broken body hitting the ground. Blood spills everywhere and the other just stares, not knowing when their teasing turned into reality, watching their loved one’s blood leaking into the pavement. 

(They end up being fine, but that initial shock... that’s something the other will carry with them to their graves.)

2. Michael and Ryan both don’t like to be wrong and have a temper a mile long. Their “lovers spats” are a thousand times more vicious than any of the others. When they argue, fists fly as easily as sharp, vicious words. They rip each other apart with tongues as sharp as knives. This can lead to avoiding, to sulking, to even on some memorable occasions actual fistfights or storming out until they cool down. Sometimes weeks will go by before they inevitably make up, really throwing off the dynamic of the crew and pissing Geoff off royally. Making up also doesn’t necessarily mean “agreeing” - they are the masters of the ‘agree to disagree’ and tabling the argument for another day. 

(And the make-up sex is damn fine.)

3. Because Michael and Ryan are always on the front lines, it tends to lead for them to get swarmed and kidnapped sometimes more often than the others. When it happens, the other will work themselves to the bone to get their lover back, unable to stand the idea that they’re being tortured, caged, hurt because of their negligence. Team Crazy Mad are supposed to protect each other, are supposed to be there for one another, watching each other’s backs when things blow sky high. When a screw is loose and they fuck that up... nothing will stop them from getting their partner back. Not sleep, not food, not anything. They will work their fingers to the bone until they can hold their partner in their arms and beg for that sweet forgiveness for ever letting anything happen to them.

(Thing is, Michael and Ryan are the strongest of them. It’ll take more than a little kidnapping to break their spirit. And even hurt, even bleeding, they’ll just grin and kiss their lover and ask what the fuck took them so long??)

4. Michael is a loyal man to his core. He’s a firecracker, always angry, always fierce, but when he loves, he loves to the bottom of him. He gives his devotion easily and deeply. But Ryan is a man who takes a while to trust and longer to love. I feel like Michael loves Ryan almost from the beginning, from the moment the Vagabond first revealed his face and the soft man underneath the hard shell. Michael’s heart drops out of his body and he’s so, so very much in love. But it takes Ryan so fucking long to get to that same conclusion, battling the very idea that he’s in love because he doesn’t want to hurt Michael physically or emotionally. Not wanting to let Michael in because he doesn’t want to be hurt. He can’t - won’t - lose anyone else. He can’t care, he certainly can’t love. When Michael finally gathers the courage to admit his feelings to Ryan’s face, I think the other goes cold and distant and breaks Michael’s heart.

(Eventually Ryan comes around and realizes that life is better with love and how the source of that love is the damn idiot firecracker. It takes Michael nearly blowing himself up for him to realize how much he would lose if he didn’t give himself a chance to love this beautiful boy.)

5. If there ever comes a moment where Michael is hurt and used to torment Ryan, that’s the way to break him. Michael is shot and snatched by an enemy, gun barrel to those auburn curls... that’s the only way to end the Vagabond. Ryan would give up anything in the world to have Michael walk away from that situation unscathed, he would give up everything about the Fakes, unable to stand the idea of Michael being hurt because of him. And Michael would later never be able to forgive him for that.

(Thankfully, they have the rest of the crew who would never let it get this bad. They see the shadow of this only once and requires Michael to pull Ryan aside to have a chat. The ensuing love is better kept to the imagination, but Ryan just hopes such a situation never happens again.)

There you go - five angst FAHC myan headcanons! I had to add a bit of the comfort part for my own myan-loving heart. Can’t let the boys suffer too long.

[jaspex]

star!! if you do open up an among us game this weekend hopefully i will be able to join...i have tried to send this ask two different times the first time i didn't hit send and the second was tumblr banishing me for too many symbols so >:o( anyways gn star i'm gonna pass out now

milo!!! i am HOPING so so hard that i will remember to ohhh and i hope u can join!! i love playing with my friends of the mutual online :] god is the internet just fucked up everywhere rn...among us kicked me OUT and would not let me in. (rattles my Cage). gn milo!! rest well :D