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crimeronan · 5 months

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alright. WHAT is a Raven Cycle. What is this story about. All this time seeing you pointed about these people, but it took me ages to figure out what the "trc" tag even stood for -- that poll you just reblogged in fact. I'm ready. Give me the pitch.

HI.

the raven cycle is a series of four books by maggie stiefvater: the raven boys, the dream thieves, blue lily lily blue, and the raven king. there is a follow-up trilogy called the dreamer trilogy made up of three books: call down the hawk, mister impossible, and greywaren.

(my 'cdth' tag is my tag for the sequel series, which i like even more than trc.)

it's a YA modern fantasy series set in a small town in rural virginia. the series focuses on a gang of five teenagers (a sixth joining in book 3/4) who are all dealing with various magic bullshit in their lives. one is looking for a dead welsh king along a ley line in the mountains of virginia, because legend says that the king can be woken and grant a wish.

the problem is that this boy, gansey, is going to die.

we know this because the one girl in the group (sorry women. there are more women in cdth i SWEAR), blue, saw his ghost on st mark's eve. which means he will die within the next year. why did she see his ghost?? because he's either her true love, or she killed him.

or, you know. both. if you're a girl who's cursed to kill your true love with a kiss. as she is.

blue does not want to kill anyone. blue also does not want gansey to be her true love. they get off on the wrong foot entirely and she decides he's the devil for a little while. blue is overall having a bad time with the world and her place in it and the fact that she's the only non-psychic person in a family of psychics, And Also She Doesn't Want To Kill Anyone.

so the question is -- for all four books -- what..... would make her kill gansey. how is gansey going to die.

gansey's three other closest friends are boys in varying states of emotional turmoil.

ronan, who is where my URL comes from, is a suicidal bipolar maniac alcoholic who spends all of his time trying to kill himself. and is also magic as fuck. and hiding it. and going out street racing with a guy who wants to eat him. and they're kind of fucking about it. they technically never fuck except like. they're kind of fucking about it

adam is a trailer trash kid paying his own way into the elite boarding school that gansey & ronan attend. his dad is physically abusive to the point of adam's life being in constant danger, but adam refuses to accept gansey's offers of help or safety, because he's determined that nobody else ever Own him.

noah is a quiet kid with a violent past that gansey cares about very deeply, getting into all of his backstory involves major book one spoilers but it is. Rough.

the plot points in the series are complicated to explain because there's a lot of mythology and strange worldbuilding and psychic bullshit and magic all going on and playing off each other. but the series is about these five kids being in a giant pseudo-polyamorous relationship and loving each other and hating each other and wanting each other and killing each other.

it has some of my favorite relationship arcs of all time in any media, ever, and also it like. taught me how to write. LOL. so if you're here from the owl house (??) or from a different fandom and you like how i talk about characters and how i write character conflicts and character arcs and character relationships....... U Get All Of That Shit In The Raven Cycle.

and that's it!

#replies #long post #trc #light of my life #ot6 #this series makes me Fucking Crazy. crazier than even toh has #do you hear me. i am Insane About Them. Always. Oh God.#like writing this was so hard because this doesnt even TOUCH on ANYTHING I LOVE bc therse TOOOO MUCHHHH #suicide #abuse #child abuse #sorry forgot those at first

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strawberrybyers · 2 months

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THE EMPHASIS ON ELECTRICITY, LIGHTS, AND RADIOS THIS SEASON HAS ME THINKING FLICKERGATE AND TIME TRAVEL THEORIES ARE SO REAL. AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 📢📢

#i’m about ready to go get a degree in engineering or some shit that’s how hyped i am #it makes me crazier bc i’m such a bttf parallel truther #byler #stranger things #flickergate

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ricoelpobre · 2 months

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“I would let him manipulate me” WHAT is the fun in THAT. I’m going to watch him from a distance for about a month, build a profile of his insecurities, perceived strengths, identify his flaws and what forms of flattery would work best on him. Then I would approach him “out of the blue” during a low point so that he associates me with novelty and hope, after that, I’d leave for a while and come in and out of his life for about a month and appear to not be concerned with him. These interactions would consist of subtle flirtations and flattery. After he gets attached, I would begin to speed things up like crazy. Go with me here Calvin, Calvin what you doing? Calvin let me get this for you. After two months I go cold. Then I’ll come back, after about a week, and give him some more crumbs of attention, promise an outing that will never come. He gets mad, he feels played. I show up again, crying, begging him to stay with me. I was so stupid, I was so blind. I miss you so much baby. You’re my everything. He’s dumb and insecure so he falls for it. I’ll become jealous. Don’t go there Calvin. Why were you talking to her Calvin? Don’t you love me anymore Calvin? Simultaneously I’m doing everything I’m scolding him for. When he points that out to me I say he did it first, I begin to cry, I say I do it because he makes me feel so horrible. Pity me, pity me. He forgives me. Honeymoon period. Repeat. Cheat on him with the guy that’s outselling him on the New York Times bestsellers list. Leave.

#nevel papperman plots #Ruby sparks #calvin weir fields #Cassie voice I AM CRAZIER !!

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cairngrom · 8 months

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(not shipping them)

i just want them to be okay, be good sibling to each other.

#dia may be crazy but i am crazier #diamond hnk #hnk bortz #bort #hnk art #houseki no kuni #if they made up sometime on the moon i’d be ‘over the moon’ haha do u get the joke???#this is just a doodle #i could talk about them for hours

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50cal-fullauto-astarion · 10 months

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your bones singing into mine

nikto x GN!reader (no use of Y/N) 1.7k words

(parts: one - two )

cw: reader is a bio weapons engineer, extreme isolation, allusions to suicide

you were once a brilliant thing, a creator of terrible and powerful miracles of modern science that could bring the world to its knees, and the russian crime syndicate that swept you up tucked you away in a small, dark place to keep you safe while they moved. nikto arrives at this barren corner looking for information and resources, and he finds exactly that in you. he decides that he will keep you, put you back to rights.

Nikto was wonderful—he held so many other people within himself, beneath his mask, like endless refractions of facets folding in on themselves. He called himself ‘we,’ and he dug you out of your grave, and he replaced the family that forgot you down here, in the dark.

(They forgot, didn’t they? They wouldn’t just leave you? They wouldn’t pack you up like the dead family cat in a shoebox, give you a thoughtless little funeral, only to walk away forever?)

(There used to be others down here with you, but they’re gone now. A few got sick. One said he was going to see himself out, holding a bottle of OxyContin, and he told you that you ought to see yourself out as well. He never got back up to leave. And now there is a room at the back of the dark place you just don’t go to.)

Every single one of Nikto thought you were special enough to take away from the bunker when the world was well-ended, because of all the secrets you kept papering the inner walls of your skull. Schematics, calculations, formulae. Components, dosages, contacts both dead and alive. A forgotten vault of knowledge, and his kindness bought him passage into it.

The bunker had been running on emergency power for two years now, recirculating the stale air, and the only light came from the dull red bulbs in cages at the tops of the walls. You couldn’t remember your hands being anything other than burgundy, nor your face in the water-stained mirror in the bathroom. All the food you ate was crimson, and so was all the water you drank.

There was only one pistol, and it stayed tucked in your waistbands as long as you could remember, red as drops of blood.

(It was strange that the length of your memory shrank and shrank and shrank. You were someone important once, from a line of important people. You were a scientist, and you made powerful things. You held the sun in your hands, and contemplated the cost of unleashing it on the world.)

(What is Armageddon if it was only ever a threat? Could such a thing be controlled, directed? If it could not, was it still an effective deterrent? Could you still bend all the world to your iron fist if it meant there would be no world left were you to open your fingers? Would you kill yourself along with everyone else to prove that you keep promises?)

Nikto brought with him the first cracks of natural light you’d seen in years, and fresh air came along with it. He arrived with others, large and sharp bodies in the angry and sullen shapes of tactical gear, and he walked at the front, cradling a big gun in his sleek arms. He looked at your pathetic little pistol, shaking in your hand at your side, with something like contempt.

“It’s over now?” you asked him, never once lifting the barrel of your gun. “Did they send you to come get me?”

He tilted his head almost imperceptibly, readjusted the grip on his gun by millimeters. There was a soft creek of leather from his gloves. He jerked his head over his shoulder, threw a hand dismissively, and his fellows fell away. To you, he said, “There is a database in this bunker. It contains the inventions of a team of scientists. Where is it?”

Oh, the way you grinned, sick-dog, mange-ridden, wanting so badly to please. “Me. I’m the database.”

His eyes under his heavy mask narrowed, then widened. “We don’t understand what you mean.”

“I have a perfect brain. It’s—a little foggy. Spiders crawled in and made lots of webs, but everything is there. It’s all there. I know how Nova Gas was invented, and I know so many big, loud things that the Soviet Union didn’t get to use,” you promised him, taking a jittering step to the side. Your voice was pain, rusted with disuse, but you were not lying. “The Kulikova’s put me down here to keep me safe while the world ended. Everyone is dead, it’s just me. So, you being here means it’s over, right? You’re going you bring me to them?”

A strange look washed over his eyes, and something happened in the carriage of his shoulders—maybe his body tilted towards you, recognizing something familiar in your rundown existence. You wouldn’t have the time or energy to think of it until later. But he chews on a silent moment, his finger caressing the trigger of his rifle, and he nodded.

“The world is done ending,” he assured you (and it’s…mostly a lie, but only mostly—his world had ended, and your world was ended, so perhaps it was close enough to the truth), “but the Kulikova’s are dead. They…asked us to retrieve you. Keep you safe.”

A frown contorted your features, almost a sneer. “I’m supposed to work,” you snapped. “I’m supposed to work! I’m supposed to WORK—!”

He cut you off, one hand snapping from his rifle to your arm, gripping you tight. “You are going to work. We need the plans in your head. We’re going to fix the world. Do you want to help us with that?”

Your frown deepened, and you surged right into him, pressing against his body, crushing your face against his mask. He tightened severely, jerking, and it felt like your wrist was going to break.

“I don’t make things that fix things,” you spat, desperate that this stranger understand the reasons your soul was sold from day one, “I make things that make people scared. I put lightning in a bottle, and it’s only supposed to quiet the lambs on their way to slaughter. Does that make sense?”

(There were many things that the world would never, ever know about Andre Nikto. That, in a past life, he would doodle skulls and crossbones and fat sleeping snow leopards on the corners of his reports to focus his mind between sentences. That he would sing or hum Krokodil Gena’s Birthday Song to himself when he was feeling very poorly, because that’s what his father used to do to soothe him. That he preferred his tea from a samovar, and that he liked to slurp it boiling hot from a saucer with a sugar cube between his teeth.)

(That he came down to a bunker forgotten by gangsters-gone-global to find a solid state drive or a computer, only to find an accomplished scientist rotted away to insanity and almost nothing else—only to find you, and fall in love with you the moment you demanded he understand the magnitude of potential atrocity made by your hands.)

“We do,” he told you, voice a gravel-grit moment of understanding. Another note rang within it, a chord of relief stricken in some deep, hallowed hollow within him. “Would you come with us?”

Satisfied, you relaxed, though you could not bring yourself to back away from the mask. Something in his eyes locked you in—perhaps the steely gray reminded you of the Baltic Sea, along which you grew up, or perhaps you found his patchy, plucked eyelashes charming and vulnerable on such a foreboding body. You couldn’t say. But his grip on your wrist relaxed into something bordering on beckoning.

“We’ll go,” you told him, the slip into his patterns an easy one, as if you had already stepped through his threshold and weaved yourself into the tapestry of his existence. “The Kulikova’s will want to get started.”

“They’re dead,” he repeated patiently. “They are corpses, and they’re working on nothing. Beyond that, their goals were nothing. Forget about them.”

It didn’t settle into your mind completely—it would take months before the idea even rooted itself in your mind—but you didn’t argue him. Instead, you let him lead you by the wrist, to the exit stairs you had spent years watching.

“It’s different now that the world ended,” he warned you. “You’re going to get sick, after being down here for so fucking long, and it’s going to hurt. A lot. But we will put you back together.”

You shifted from foot to miserable foot, curling your hand to try to take his. Anticipation flooded through you, a brutal resurrection. “Of course you will. You’d’ve wasted your time if you didn’t intend to,” you said, as close to an admission of faith as you thought you’d ever manage again.

It made him laugh—only a rough bit, the grit of powdered glass under a hard boot—but it sounded like salvation.

“I’m going to cover your eyes,” he warned you, and you thought with great offense it was because the world was such a tragedy now that he would rather protect you from it, but he continued, “the light is going to burn your retinas like a fucking nightmare.”

You looked at him, searching, and found his eyes vexed under the mask, swimming in the black of his grease. He’d walked this path before, it was evident in his voice. All of these things had happened to him before, and he did not have someone who knew, who could prevent little pains as they collected.

You nodded. “Spasibo. Okay.”

He laughed again, and your skin prickled at the broken-glass-and-gravel tone. “We like the Russian. You should speak it more,” he hummed, and one of his arms slid across your back to brace you. His free hand came to your face, pressing over your eyes carefully, to shield them from what was about to unfold in front of you.

With great care, because he was holding something of utmost preciousness to him, Andre Nikto led you out of the bunker that should’ve been your grave, holding you steady as your bare feet touched grass for the first time in three years, as the white-hot light of sunshine peaked between the cracks his hand couldn’t prevent over your eyes. He held you through the agony of sensation, and led you to an armored vehicle, to a new life.

“It’s overwhelming, we know,” he promised, as you curled into a ball in the backseat. He took one of your hands and held them in both of his, keeping low, as if making a vow. “We’re going to take care of you. We’re going to put you back together—we’ll never leave you behind.”

His hands squeezed tight, as if he needed you to understand.

“You’ll never be alone again. We won’t let that happen.”

All you felt was relief and love flooding you in equal measure, your fingers turned to claws in his grip, and he held even tighter.

You would leave outrageous damage behind in the touch if he ever left you, and he only welcomed it.

#cod nikto #mwii nikto #nikto x reader #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod mw x reader #i slammed this together at like 2 to 330 am fighting benadryl the whole way and i like it alright enough #i'm def still affected to this day by reading a doll house and the awakening in high school and having major brainrot that it could work if #they were crazier which is absolutely the wrong thing to take from either of those but yknow what my city now #my work

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ryllen · 6 months

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Sobbing, instead of studying I translated more of doujin page from the same artist, linking 2 more, with (shorter) summary,

this one is about trey who actually acts normal not because he wants normality, but because he feels like he has to be normal (like trauma after getting riddle into trouble), but then jade sense that side of him, and somewhat be like, it's okay not to be normal and it release tensions from trey's shoulders fhsdh when they started dating, trey kept finding himself in trouble that jade brought upon them (schoolmates suddenly wants to get into battle because they have some kind of beef on jade) when cater said, u like normal right? why are u going out with him? trey said, i don't actually dislike it (the trouble) (yea because he is actually not normal)

when azul said, jade why are u going out with trey, he seems too normal? jade be like, no he is not normal at all, trey knows there's someone behind the bench (i hope someone saved them after fshd but then there were ants, ants go for dead bodies, is he ded for real? fshdh BUT WAIT, it was raining, ANTS WON'T COME OUT WHEN IT RAINS, hey! hey!!! AUTHOR!!) but he still gave jade the umbrella calmly in conclusion, TOTES NOT NORMAL! Jade said.

this one is about riddle becoming best friend with jade, and their unique relationship also bits of riddle realizing jade has feeling for trey and bits of floyd just started to think he likes riddle, and they all help each other (yippie!)

the writing is also in depth & brilliant, but i especially love page 61-64 where jade gave reasoning to trey not to tied himself forever on the trauma of putting riddle into trouble back then that he deserves to be happy himself when trey said "i wish i can do something for riddle" jade replied "riddle wasn't someone that only you could save." "of course it doesn't have to be me." "riddle is a strong person who can find happiness on his own if given the chance." "please be happy too"

RIGHT AT MY KOKORO.

#twisted wonderland #twst #treyjade #trey clover #jade leech #i don't usually translate doujin pages much but i guess anything other than studying feels like a bliss from heaven rn (which will give me #hellish trouble later)#but yea i wish i have power where i can just merge google translate to my eyes so i can read japanese fanartists work with ease #i am sure there are many more good depth doujins out there #and even without depth some of them can be really sweet and funny #oh i feel like if i had that ability and actually fueled with the knowledge of all treyjade fanart stories ever existed #i probably go insane already fhsdhsd #i mean i am already ballistic now #imagine going crazier #there are many kind of trey and jade #and their varieties are good #trey who wants to be normal #trey who actually doesn't want to be normal #they are both good #FSDSDH NOT JADE THO SAYING KABEDON IS THE POSITION FLOYD USUALLY DOES TO RETORT FOR MONEY FHSDHSDHD #THE twins sure are built differently #also DANG that jade about to go HAM on one of the heartslabyul student on the best friend with riddle doujin #i love the leech twins can be so silly and can be so deadly

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