“A woman needs to know how to be strong, stand on her own… a'course, boy or a girl, if you’re lucky enough to fall in love you hafta be even stronger… fight like a lion to keep it alive… so that on the day your love is weak enough… or selfish enough… or friggin’ stupid enough to run away, you have the strength to track him down and eat ‘im alive.”
ABOUT ME - 6/? favorite female characters: Tulip O’Hare (Preacher)
Alright here we go I just asked @anarchetypal about this because I am on a Spree™ but I need your take on shithead Ryan. I'm pretty sure you've done this before but I've read all of your everything and I need m o r e
Not sure if you meant just generally or you actually wanted something specific but here we go~
Listen, any one of the Fakes would tell you Ryan’s mask is less about hiding his identity than it is about hiding the fact that he is nearly always laughing. It didn’t take him long to realise that with his reputation literally anything he does will be interpreted as threatening and even the most innocuous activities are treated as utterly unnerving. If people knew just how often Ryan was flat out messing with them there wouldn’t be nearly so many desperately worried discussions trying to unravel what depravity the Vagabond is getting up to with a bucket of paint and a dust-buster.
While most of the others find accompanying Gavin as the muscle in a meeting somewhat monotonous and dry (there are exceptions of course, the contacts that Gavin plays ridiculous roles for, or the meetings that go south and kick off, but for the most part its a bit of posturing and trying not to tune out while Gavin does his thing) Ryan always has a ball. Ryan is just about the only Fake who could give Gavin a run for his money in regards to a flare for the unnecessarily dramatic, so when the two of them head off together they invariably go well and truely overboard. Whoever the pair meet with, no matter how well they’ve done their job or how many positive interactions they’ve previously had with Gavin alone will spend the entirety of their meeting tracking Ryan’s movements around the room, absolutely sure they’re about to die.
After watching a few too many episodes of Brooklyn Nine-nine Ryan picks up the habit of making the occasional outrageously out of character confession just to watch people squirm with the realisation that no one will ever believe them if they tell. After all the unspeakable horrors Los Santos has witnessed from the Vagabond none are prepared to entertain for a single moment the possibility that he might also enjoy the Spice Girls, cry in Disney movies or hula-hoop at a competitive level.
Any time the Fake’s accept a new member Ryan tends to silently shadow them everywhere they go for a couple of weeks in full Vagabond get up. Everyone assumes, quite reasonably and with no small amount of blind terror, that the Vagabond is protective, distrustful, and all too eagerly awaiting the chance to kill them off at the first sign of a slip up. In reality Ryan knows just how vetted anyone has to be before Geoff will let them into the family, and just really enjoys toying with their emotions while he can.
There’s a narrow window towards the back of the LSPD bullpen - a little unorthodox but the glass is thick and one-way tinted so security isn’t really a problem. What is a problem is the fact that every now and then a member of the force will swear up and down that they saw the Vagabond’s awful skull standing there leering at them through the glass.
Ryan found out, through pure accident, that leaving his mask balanced atop of his hanging jacket is a surefire way to terrify Geoff in the middle of the night. Before it really sinks in he is woken on three seperate occasions by that all-too distinctive shriek; the first incident had the whole crew running guns drawn, the second was met with endless mockery and by the third Ryan just lays in bed, listening to the others thundering into the hallway, and grins. From that point on Ryan just gets more creative about where he leaves his spectre self; the bathroom, the pantry, and on one memorable occasion, suspended right outside Geoff’s door.
I enjoy the car colours in cunning stunt races far too much. Just picturing a harried Geoff telling his crew to drop everything and all go out and grab some transport for a job. Frustrated when they ask for further instruction he snaps that it doesn’t matter, just for gods sake be subtle for once. Which, honestly, it’s like he doesn’t know his crew at all.
Despite their grumbling most of the crew obediently come back in matte black, though not entirely without protest; Jack, Ryan and Michael are all quietly pleased with their unavoidably flashy choices of a supercar, enormous truck and convertible respectively. Geoff barely gets the chance to start complaining before Lindsay swings in, setting off laughter across the board with her inexplicably powder blue car. When asked Lindsay just shrugs, she wasn’t making a statement it was just the first car she saw and like hell was she wasting any more time satisfying Geoff’s half-assed request.
Really that should have been the worst of it but the longer they sit around waiting for the final three still missing the more the tense anticipation grows, noisy chatter stumbling to a halt when they finally turn up. Gavin, Jeremy and Trevor rolling in all together in a convoy line, matching shit-eating grins well and truely upstaged by the monstrosities they are driving, all in the exact same neon shade of ‘fuck you Geoff’ purple.
i recently hit 200 followers and i rlly didn’t know what to do about it bc i DON’T DO ART, and i DON’T MAKE EDITS and i rlly just have NO TIME on my hands and then kay @jpghope, aesthetic queen, made this banner for me..
but anyway i wanted to say thank u bc haha my blog is such a mess and um so is my life so it meant a lot T.T
here is a list of the ppl i rlly like on here, u guys r all cooler than me but i’ll forgive you ;(
1.(a) archaic : a falling down : collapse (b) physical,
moral, economic, or social collapse
He was something
else, once. Was a good man, maybe. Certainly a better man. A cleaner man.
Someone who could look at themselves in the mirror. Someone who didn’t hide
behind a mask, cloak themselves in death just so the stains didn’t shine
Hard times hit
everyone differently, some fall apart, some overcome, some recreate themselves
entirely. Ryan was remade. Unmade. Ryan turned himself inside out to come out on
top, man made monster, made machine. Man made ruthless, made killer. Made
mercenary. Made money. Good god did Ryan make money, such a lucrative business
for those who can stomach it, for those who can excel at it, tear out all the
better parts of themselves and become devastation.
It takes a certain
kind of person to pull themselves apart, takes a particular kind of conviction,
desperation, the sort of radical change that cannot be undone, permanent moral
decay. Once you become the bogeyman there is no turning back.
Ryan has been the
Vagabond longer than he has been Ryan, longer than he was ever James, and
longer, it turns out, than he would be a member of the Fake Ah Crew.
2. (a) the state of being ruined (b) the remains of something destroyed
The Vagabond was
known from coast to coast, feared across oceans, talents coveted by all and
controlled by none. The Vagabond was everything, fierce and untouchable, true
to his word but violently independent, a faceless wraith none could outrun,
none could even truly believe was human. The Vagabond himself didn’t even know
for a while, true name unspoken for so long it was almost forgotten, bone-deep loneliness
so endlessly constant he didn’t notice it was there until is suddenly wasn’t.
The FAHC snuck in
like poison, insidious and unrepentant with absolutely no consideration for
Ryan’s barriers. They hired him for a job, then another, their calls dogged him
across states, pulled him back time and time again. It was a good gig; solid
pay, decent jobs, no conflicts of interest and, as a bonus, they were a pretty entertaining
bunch to work with. Too entertaining maybe, considering Ryan kept letting
things slip, kept opening his mouth, kept forgetting he was just a hired tool.
The Fake’s forgot
too, forgot to be fearful, to show proper deference, forgot the mercenary was
always moving, that he was just working for pay, that he wasn’t theirs. They
forgot the depths of the Vagabond’s depravity and that alone should have been
enough of a sign; Ryan should have stayed away, should have drawn a line, but
all of a sudden for the first time in years he had a port of call and no real
reason to avoid it. All of a sudden the restless itch of the Vagabond didn’t
seem quite so pressing, occasional trips to Los Santos becoming occasional trips
out of Los Santos, until one day he
just didn’t leave. Until one day the trappings of the Vagabond were more
costume than they were second skin, worn and comfortable but not necessary, not
Fake AH Crew were known from coast to coast, feared across oceans, they were a
collection of talents obedient only to one. The FAHC were everything, they were
acceptance, encouragement, they were wicked laughter and bad ideas, they were
filthy cheats and the fiercest of families. They were simply a tragedy waiting
3. a cause of destruction
The Vagabond’s got
a reputation for silent threat, stoic judgement, but in all honestly Ryan’s
always had a mouth on him. Always chased the final word, that one last snippy
come back, always pushed the envelope to show nothing can contain him, no one
can outsmart him.
It’s part of what made
the Vagabond so dangerous; professional, yes, fulfilling orders to the letter
when they take his fancy but it only takes a split second to change his mind, a
single throw-away comment to have him turning on his heel, reaching for his
gun. The Vagabond has a temper, has a skewed sense of propriety and a sharp
tongue, and in the heat of the moment none are safe from his withering condemnation.
It’s part of what
made him so compatible with the FAHC, competitive and creative and more than
capable of keeping up, quick wit and scathing commentary the perfect cherry
atop his undeniable talents. He’s hardly the only one in the crew needlessly
making enemies, not the only one causing grave offence at the most inopportune
times, but Ryan’s words will always carry the weight of the Vagabond. Will forever
be deemed more serious, more humiliating, a story that will travel, a snub that
will damage reputations if left unpunished. It’s what made him a fucking
liability, in the end.
4. (a) the action of destroying, laying waste or wrecking (b) damage, injury
The hardest thing
about being in a crew is realising your actions are no longer solely your own;
even with the ability to disregard orders whatever ramifications you bring down
will inevitably splash over onto everyone else. An enemy of one crew-member is an
enemy of all, and when retribution comes everyone is in the crosshairs. When it
comes everyone is at risk.
The thing about
trying to handle your own problems, about keeping your family in the dark to
save them from your mistakes, is that eventually you’re going to stumble.
Eventually you’re going to fall, and when you do chances are you’re not the one
who’s going to pay for it. When you do, chances are you’re going to suffer
worst of all. Ryan can’t even claim it’s undeserved, not when he’d had so many
opportunities to leave, had so many chances to walk away, to save them.
FAHC might have been top dogs in the city but all it takes is a lucky shot, all
it takes is an unseen ambush, merciless vengeance for a grievance they never
even heard about. Ryan wasn’t even home, off on some job he didn’t even get the
chance to fight with them, to die with them. All empires fall eventually. Most
royal families end in bloodshed. A monster will always be a monster and the
bogeyman knows damn well he doesn’t get a redemption arc. He doesn’t get a
5. aruined building, person, or object
He was something
else, once. Had a soul, maybe. Had something more than this, was someone more than this. More than a
masked killer, silent and dead-eyed, as merciless as he is inhuman. More than a
loaded gun, good for only one terrible purpose. More than a gutted house, dark
and empty and forever waiting for the family that won’t come home.
It’s the experience of not knowing what to do. Having fun is a foreign concept as a kid. Your idea of fun is playing grown-up games. In particular I loved to play Animal Crossing because I could own a house, pay my mortgage, talk to my neighbors, and fish. It was the fun of being responsible. It was the fun of knowing that life isn’t all about having fun. In fact, I almost never had experiences. I was too scared to ask my parents. I felt like fun was something other people could have. I felt like creativity was meant for others. Relationships were meant to be for the long-haul. Saturn whispers in your ear that if it isn’t long-lasting, don’t do it. You’ll regret it later. So you ball up into yourself thinking that it’s best to keep to yourself and not do anything crazy. You don’t realize you’re robbing your young self of experiences.
Or are you?
Because Saturn teaches you that it’s ok to have fun once everything else is done. You can enjoy life when you have attended to all of your duties. As you grow, he smiles encouragingly as you take the first steps into experiencing all that this life has to offer. You go out to parties with knowledge floating in the back of your head that will keep your night spectacular. There will be no near-death experiences for you. Your relationships will be serious in nature because you seek out those who are serious as well. You skip the heartbreak and go straight to the soulmate style love because Saturn told you to wait. Keep your head down. Don’t go after the playboy. Your art will have a lasting quality that will stand the test of time because you took your time. You placed your love, your heart, your soul into it. Saturn took notice. He knew you could handle the lesson he wanted to teach you.