Discover Top Posts Tagged with #kingryanrisenfromtheashes

Artist: http://kingryan-risenfromtheashes.tumblr.com

Recipient: http://ludomoose.tumblr.com

Warnings: N/A

#Ragehappy #Jeremwood #kingryanrisenfromtheashes #ludomoose #rhss16

Author: http://exinspired.tumblr.com Recipient: http://kingryan-risenfromtheashes Summary: [Magical Fake AH Crew] Jeremy pushed himself too hard. Now he's dying. It'd be kinda nice if Ryan at least pretended to be sad. Warnings: The whole thing was written on my phone in a few hours due to moving earlier than expected and still not having my computer. Real warnings: death, temporary death, au typical violence WordCount: 4569 (including formatting codes)

Jeremy overdid it. That wasn’t an uncommon statement among the Crew--it wasn’t so uncommon a statement in his regular life, either--so nobody would have been surprised to hear it. Jeremy kind of wished Ryan was at least a little surprised to see it, though. Maybe a shred concerned? He’d even take sad--the Vagabond held no fear, so he wasn’t even dreaming about him being scared for him! Was he asking too much!?

Jeremy grunted wordlessly as Ryan’s hands ghosted over him, didn’t even touch him and still caused him pain. Like some sort of force field was broken and even his personal bubble (which was apparently some kind of real thing one way or another) was popped and shattered enough to cause him pain. How did he even get here? Any other heist would’ve gone the same way. A big one like this always has them splitting off, usually into groups of two, and into safehouses around the city to lose their heat and lay low for a little while. JDoolz was somewhat surprised that some of these guys even knew the meaning of the words ‘lay low,’ The Vagabond most of all. Especially when he found out that they were, magically, one and the same, that their magic flowed through some channel in them that kept them alive. It meant they couldn't push themselves--that overdoing magic was literally suicide and it didn’t even make their magic stronger on average. . .unless handled correctly. Jeremy hadn’t grown up using his magic--he had physical strength, threw punches and dropped kicks that broke bones and spirits and whatever else there may have been. He didn’t need this dangerous energy anyway. But the magical criminal underground was a whole different ballpark than the one he’d been playing in, and somehow he went from admiring the abilities of the Fake AH Crew to joining them despite hardly being able to make a spark without hurting himself in his inexperience. “You’ll be fine.” Caleb had told him and his more magically skilled friend and partner Matt, who had agreed to join him in appealing to them, really only meaning to get a closer look. But somehow Caleb was right and while it wasn’t their intention, they’d entered a surprise inauguration after doing simple temp work to help them with some “games” and upcoming jobs. After Brownman’s departure, JDoolz was pushed up onto the plate. He didn’t see how he fit that empty space in their puzzle--wasn’t a sniper so much as he was a brawler--but quickly knew, despite whisperings outside the crew and by their own little militia of lackeys and wannabes, he didn’t need to. He was his own piece of a grander sort. And that piece needed some polish--magically--to get its bearings. Since his rise to the top he’d been placed under the masked member’s tutelage. It was rare that magic flowed and formed and was used the same way in two people who worked together, with one of them being skilled enough to be a teacher to boot. With that plan in place, Jeremy and Ryan were stuck together on jobs, when fleeing police, when hiding out from danger and wherever else it did or didn’t make sense. And when they weren’t, somehow they still crossed paths, when the Crew had some downtime Jeremy would practically chase him down to demand more magical lessons. He was a little surprised the Vagabond never grew tired of him, but he took advantage of the good fortune. Yeah. That was the start of it. Was his life flashing before his eyes? He really couldn’t even tell. Maybe he was just. . .reminiscing. In all that time, he still barely got to know the guy. Jeremy couldn’t help but wonder if Ryan was worried about the same. About missed opportunities between them. He’d’ve liked to think their feelings were mutual in that it was at least pretty cool to work with someone with the same kind of magic in every way. But when he slid his hazy eyes open, the Vagabond seemed impassive as ever. The absence of his mask didn't really occur to him in the dull thumping of his being. The makeup didn’t compare, but got across the same point, and the boney grin that served as his face was replaced by a painted on set of teeth, following his lips in a toothy scowl. “I might’ve fucked myself this time.” He croaked, thankful for the warm and solid presence of the Vagabond’s chest against his back and head, and the warmth and steady hold of his arms, surprisingly gentle around his body. He wondered if he’d’ve just let go if he were on his own.

Ryan had taught him something very important about their magical abilities. They could slowly regenerate on their own overtime, sure, but it was highly detrimental to their health to go too hard with it. The period of weakness, where his magic was inaccessible at risk of his life, where Ryan would zap him with a flash of lightning off the ground if he so much as started drawing on his power after a day of practice, to put it lightly, fucking sucked. To have all this power and not be able to use it, what was the point!? How was he supposed to be a magical asset to them if he could do so little? His complaints that day, in the car with the crew, escaping the cops after a simple robbery gone right, made Ryan chuckle. His face was invisible as usual, but even Jeremy could tell he was grinning beneath the mask. “Is your gun out, JDoolz?” Always about business, The Vagabond never called him by name. Glares at him if he started using his, even in safety and private. Somebody else had to tell him his “human” name (and they used those exact words and sometimes Jeremy didn’t question their legitimacy) and “Ryan” nearly snapped him in half when he wouldn’t share who did. Jeremy stroked his firearm and lifted it into the sight of the rear view mirror, receiving a nod from the skull in the passenger’s seat. “I’m going to teach you something.” He said, still sounding amused, even pleased at the idea. “Remember when I taught you to open your channels? So your magic would flow better and you could draw it wherever you wanted, instead of recklessly throwing magic around and hoping it went in the right direction?” “Well, yeah, that was like lesson one, why?” He’d taught him to make his punches even stronger, to protect the flesh of his hands with magic in and around his fists. He’d taught him to channel his magic through not only parts of himself (which was a fun lesson, one where he swore Ryan may have even been flirtatious towards him, although Jeremy dismissed it without much comment as he had a habit of flirting with anything that showed a sign of human life now and again) but through objects as well, and he sat on the porch swing of a safehouse and watched him shoot and cast magic through sticks “like a little wizard.” He loaded up brass knuckles with “sharpened” energy to brutalize enemies from the inside with only bruises and some cuts to provide any reasoning as to how. He wrapped bullets in magic to amplify pain and effects and even recourse bullets, which nearly knocked the wind out of him with just the effort. (He took him waterskiing to help him understand physically what needed to be done to manipulate a bullet’s course, to help him route magically how to make it all happen. Jeremy found the water skiing much easier. Ryan squeezed his bicep between two fingers and claimed it was understandable as he’d only just started and he’d never really relied on his magic before. His body’s muscles were stronger than his magical ones. He tried not to flex under the pinch.) “And when I shared my magic with you?” It was one of the most intimate experiences of his life, really. He’d never felt anybody touch him that way before. Nobody really knew about his magic and he didn't really consider it something be could feel until it was gone--and then along came Ryan, rolling his own energy over him in waves, like he was dragging cloth over his skin, and then it brushed his own and they threaded together and Jeremy had never felt so powerful before, let alone so intensely one with a person. And then Ryan cut his magic off and retracted himself from him, and despute the absence Jeremy still felt like he’d been injected with caffeine or cocaine or something. Ryan’s magic was just like his own, his body accepted it and welcomed it and he could use it and adapt it to his own needs but. . .it was something else entirely. And it was part of Ryan’s own life. In essence Ryan had healed him by giving up some of his own life, and Jeremy couldn’t imagine doing the same. It seemed utterly foolish. But even when that lesson was over, he played with and examined Ryan’s magical signature--the remaining life force he’d put in him--and kept a reserve of it for as long as he could. It meshed together too well with his own, still remained distinct and even acted almost as if it still wasn’t entirely part of him, nudging and twisting around his magic like a new pet examining its housemates. Like Ryan had truly given him part of himself. “Earth to JDoolz!” Gavin’s somewhat nasally voice cut in, nudging his side as if equally curious to the contents of the lesson. “What!? Uh, yeah, of course! Sorry, just--trying to remember how that worked again.” Ryan didn’t comment on the extended silence. “Well this isn’t going to be spoon fed to you, so you might wanna cut that out of your mind and think about how you’re gonna take it this time around.”

“Hey, Ry--ugh, Vagabond. . . .” Jeremy grumbled, drawing up whatever physical energy he had left. He didn’t have a grand speech planned--he didn’t plan on any kind of death like this. He wanted to go out active, with a fight, not in practice! But Ryan looked down at him, an eyebrow raised as if surprised he was still hanging on. He wasn’t even trying to get him any help. He must’ve been hopeless. It actually made him a little angry, how little he seemed to care. Instinctively he tried to draw magic to his fist, only to recoil in pain as his muscles all cramped impossibly tight, like they were trying to shrink him. “I didn’t mean shit to you, did I?” He finally growled, eyes screwed shut. He hoped he wasn’t tearing up. He didn’t need to go out even more embarrassed. “That’s why you aren’t upset. You didn’t care from the start, did you. This was just another “bad idea” that Geoff made you go through with, right?” “To be honest,” Jeremy braced himself. He hoped Ryan didn’t notice. “I’m really just waiting for you to give up.” “Well I’m gonna miss you.” He admitted shakily, moving his aching arms so he could grab onto Ryan’s pantsleg tightly. “I’m gonna miss doing crimes and shit with you and getting drunk and letting you take care of me and learning shit from you and killing people with you and I’m gonna miss. . .I’m gonna miss the way it feels to have you in my life. Everyone, but you the most.” He really hoped he wasn’t dying now. He’d hate for his dying breaths to be so cheesy and compliant. The Vagabond didn't need his ego stroked any more than it already had been. Unfortunately, he chuckled over him and pinched his tightened bicep, a familiar little gesture of affection that lit the tiniest spark of hope in Jeremy’s mostly lifeless body. He couldn't bear (or perhaps didn’t have the energy to) try and shake him off. “Oh, no need to worry about missing me from your life for long.”

To pull a life force from another, that other must be willing or dead. Despite what the others joked about in fear, Ryan nor Jeremy could pull the life from their bodies to fuel and heal themselves. (Yet.) Jeremy took the shot and, with some struggle, nailed the driving cop’s head. Ryan said something about this one being easier--the life was trying to stay in the body, even though a corpse struggled to maintain any life at all. (They’d had several conversations about zombie possibilities. Jeremy made plans just in case, if only because he and Matt spent so much time with a certain How To crew who were on the Fakes’ side.) A life struggling to stay in its place meant it would stay still--the only issue being their quickly moving vehicle kept it a little challenging. Ryan enjoyed playing with the weather with his magic. He drew up rain and clouds and wind and lightning storms. So a cyclone, a vortex was easy for him. Jeremy stuck to more pressure-based magic usage, powering up other things he did or used rather than trying to make blasts of energy into flames or floods or just overwhelming pain. So manipulating his energy into its own tool wasn’t his strong point. And this was even more advanced than just that. “Hurry up, Jeremy!” He heard Michael yell over the wind and the whizz and clang of bullets. Panicked at the distance between him and the still warm body of his kill, Jeremy attempted to recreate the cyclonic effect Ryan had made, using his arm as a channeling device to make things a little easier on him. The resulting stroke of magic scratched a thick stripe into the street--too physically focused, not magical enough in its own right. Ryan grabbed him to steady him when he wobbled, trying to rein his power in. “Try making it an extension of your arm instead!” He yelled, muffled through his mask. “It's not going anywhere and you do much better when you have something to base your channeling on!” There, too, he pinched his bicep, then gave his shoulder a clap and held on to encourage him. He tried again, extending his arm and his fingers, extending his magic into a sort of glove around them, then extending it, occasionally flexing his fingers to make sure everything responded accordingly. Someday he hoped Ryan would teach him to see these things(it was a little scary to just push magic into your eyes--he’d hate to join the members of the group with vision problems just because he’d ruined his vision by trying to enhance it) but for now he relied on feeling and on faith. And when his magical claw reached the lingering life force he snapped his fingers over it and gasped, recoiling as his magic snapped back, eating at and converting the other’s life into his own. It fought, for sure, and it fought hard enough that Jeremy fell back into the lads’ laps back in the car, struggling against it as it was all pulled into him and only intensified with the proximity. His magic still unstable but strong, with some screaming and fighting (and a few elbows to the crotches and stomachs of his friends) he overcame it, his magic swallowing it up until it was gone and only he remained. “Sooo, how d'you feel?” Geoff asked as he calmed down and began to breathe normally, able to feel his stabilizing power. Jeremy looked around, trying to see what may have been different besides that they were all back in the car and speeding down the road,cops lost and no more shooting going on. Ryan was watching him, mask obscuring his expression, but he nodded at him in a way Jeremy took to be approval. “I, uh.” He sat himself up with little issue, looking around still. In disappointment, he whined “I may have lost my hat.” Then he examined himself, finding no physical damage seeming to have had lasted, and even his previous wounds seemed to have had cleared up or began to. He felt awake, like he could run a mile if not for old wounds. He felt more lively and energetic than he had all day. “Otherwise, pretty fucking great! Do I--do I have more magic now? Will I live longer?” “I mean, I can’t say anything about how long you’ll live, but you’ve certainly got more life reserve you can use for magic.” Ryan chirped, popping the cowboy hat back onto Jeremy’s head, to his excitement. “Not bad for a first try.”

After that vague confession was a bit of a blur. He hadn’t opened his eyes, but he kept talking, he was fairly certain. He even said something that made Ryan talk back more. Or maybe that was just a dream. A dream. . .Jeremy was Catholic. He believed in God and heaven and all that stuff that he was pretty sure he was ineligible for at this point. Sure, the Bible said stuff about asking for forgiveness and going to heaven anyway, but he doubted someone like him who didn’t even kill for a good cause was worthy of it. He remembered praying. He remembered Ryan seeming amused by that, then urging him to continue, stroking his hair. He didn’t know what death would be like, if he’d go to heaven or hell or purgatory or if those things even existed. . .but he sort of expected the actual process to be like falling asleep. And it was, after the flashing of his life before his eyes. It was also like falling asleep in that he woke up, feeling impossibly stiff and aching everywhere. “What the. . . .” He felt a warm, massaging thrum through himself and felt like all of his muscles popped and relaxed again at once, and jolted harshly against the body beneath him, jumping and preparing a punch, magic rushing to his fist so fast it made him dizzy. No, wait, something was wrong here-- “Good morning to you too!” Ryan’s voice croaked from beneath him, the person he was atop pulling his arms away and holding them up defensively, but not seeming too concerned. But it wasn’t Ryan. It was some blond guy with blue eyes and smudges of black and white makeup rubbed off on his face and long hair strewn about messily beneath his head and one of Ryan’s weird skull patterned hair ties stuck around his wrist like a bracelet. “I mean it’s actually like eleven at night, but--” “What the fuck is going on!?” He moved to grab the guy by the neck, only to have him grab his wrist tightly and stop him, not letting go. “Who are you!? What’s--what’s. . . .” He looked around the room, seeing the same safehouse that he’d been in with Ryan.. .that day. It didn’t feel long ago, just a few hours, but he’d died back there. So maybe he’d gone to some sort of heaven. Whoever vouched for him. . .probably shouldn’t’ve, but he owed them one. But it didn’t explain-- “Jeremy.” His heart pounded. He’d never heard that voice say that name. But it was coming out of this guy, this guy who couldn’t have been him. This guy who had features like his and hair about the same length and a body that looked about the same and who had some of Ryan’s makeup leftover on his face and Ryan’s hairtie on his wrist. “I’m supposed to be dead.” “And you were.” He shrugged. “But your body wasn’t taking magic while you were alive. So I had to wait until you were dead to revive you. You’d just wasted so much that it was interpreting anything external as a threat while it tried to work itself out.” As he spoke Jeremy became aware of the warmth inside him. The familiar feeling that didn't fill him but was more than enough to keep him alive. It wasn’t just life, it wasn’t just magic, it was Ryan’s. Ryan’s magic, inside him again, just like when he’d drained himself so much back then. And it reacted with. . .well, Ryan’s magic beneath him, in front of him, too. It prodded at and tickled him, but he didn’t want it to stop. He stared at Ryan, only half recognizable without contacts or black in his hair or facepaint on. And it was him, it had to be. No one else would have his magic like that. Besides him, apparently. “You. You brought me back to life!?” Jeremy demanded in shock. Ryan only shrugged as if it were as simple as making it rain. “How!? I--I had no magic left, I was a fucking goner!!” “Most magic users can’t die of magical exhaustion.” Ryan sighed, releasing Jeremy’s wrist, instead sliding his hand up his arm to pinch his bicep again. “Most people’s magic comes back. It just takes a while. When your life force and your magic are the same substance, in particular, you have to do a real number on yourself to die. It just regenerates if you’re in safe conditions. I just. . .had to give up something important to me to speed it up.” Jeremy slid his hands over his chest and stomach, feeling the metaphysical substances that seemed like they'd be in there. He could feel Ryan’s magic inside him, for sure. But deeper in there, protected by Ryan’s somehow affectionate and prodding and playful substance was his own--a small spark he could feel fully connected to himself, as of his body had generated it, and the rest seemed external almost. But still his own. Like someone had been keeping it somewhere besides inside his own body. “Did you ever notice how lowered your guard is around me all the time?” Ryan chuckled, emphasizing this with another magical poke, stroking along the layer of his own magic inside Jeremy, making him jump and his cheeks warm. He hadn’t put up any resistance. With possibly the worst guy to be relaxed around. “I, uh. I took some of your magic? Just to have it? And once you’ve restored your own and converted mine into yours, I’ll be taking some more. Y'know, just a heads up.” “You revived me with your own magic. . . .” He pressed on his stomach. “Thank you, I’ll. . .I’ll cherish it.” “No you won’t!” Ryan laughed, unoffended. “You’ll waste it all on trying to see if you can kill a guy using a magically powered lock of hair as a needle or something.” “That sounds like a great idea and all but you know what I mean! I mean--you--” Jeremy laughed, curling in on himself a little. “You’re literally part of my life now!” “Yeah, for like the next day and a half.” Ryan scoffed, putting his fingers on the back of Jeremy’s head, pulling him in as he lied down. “But you have a lot of resting to do before you can be part of mine again, so back to sleep with you.” Jeremy, exploring this new situation of theirs fully conscious, rest his head against Ryan’s chest, feeling himself being squeezed there and Ryan’s breath jostling his hair. His guard was still down. But it only felt befitting. He didn’t need to worry about his life around someone who gave him his own, after all.

#Ragehappy #Jeremwood #exinspired #kingryanrisenfromtheashes #rhss16

FAHC HC 1 FAHC HC 2

Ryan/Jeremy

New Kid In Town by kingryan-risenfromtheashes

Summary: With Ray gone, the Fake AH Crew needed a new member to be their sniper. Ryan mentions that he may know of someone.

WC: 2,572

T: Gore

Ryan/Ray

Wheat by raymichael

Summary: They’re in the middle of a heist, bullets raining, grenades lighting new paths through the grime of Los Santos, and Ryan finds himself apart- away, from everything.

There’s a memory that won’t let go of his hair.

WC: 2,451

Angst

AU (GTA)

Established Relationship

Fluff

Hurt/Comfort

Queer (Trans)

Violence

PG13

1,001 - 5,000

You didn’t really specify a ship so we did a few!