#or if im kicked out or forced to 'run away' idk if I'll be able to make it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

i-bring-crack · 1 month

Text

Small review that just popped as I was talking on a fanfiction comment so, here you go.

Spoilers for SL Ragnarok because of course there is.

A small analysis on Antares as a character:

1) Born to destroy and raised to kill. While I don't know how much of a hold the dark fragment inside of him has, it does show that he can easily advert that whenever he wants to,(I.e being able to mediate things between the monarchs, wait out until the final years every time just to win the war, and even befriend ashborn despite being a former ruler.) He still chooses war, and most importantly winning, over everything. So I do guess he was also raised with that mentality to become the strongest and to become a warrior, even more so than a protector.

2)He is capable of tactical fighting instead of brute force, but his ego, and him wanting the glory of an all out strength is what he likes the most. Like a viking, he sees its better to die in glory than to run away from the fight.

3) He is a perfectionist by all regards, from wanting to be the strongest (dragon emperor and stuff) to wanting to be the best at everything even in trivial things (in the extras he would rather prove himself to be capable of being punctual than killing someone over accusing him of being late. And this chapter idk how to feel about it because one hand it gives the most characterization of him while simultaneously playing into that hoop of "is he like this or is that how jinwoo sees him?" — I take it both way honestly, and practically funny to think that jinwoo sees him in that perfectionist light as well. But anyways it is still clear to his character in SL R so I give it a lot of passes.

4) He surprisingly sees everyone as equals. In the regard that they are all weak after to him and hardly deserve his attention. Maybe for the monarchs and Rulers he give a bit more attention, and we'll for ashborn/jinwoo he is practically head over heel—*shot to death* I mean quite obsessed with them due to how powerful they are, so they pose a bigger threat to him and his perfect status (see this could have all been resolved if they kis—) not to mention how both embody their fragments and purposes really well.— But I digress, in the dream (and in part of SL R) he doesn't care much about humans, could have easily chosen another planet to invade and it would have been the same to him, he even pits the magic beasts on the same level as them because it doesn't matter much to them as the powerful. So in the end what he cares about isn't species or race, it's about how powerful you prove yourself to be. (And yeah, it's why Suho somewhat managed to become his successor. And even then Antares wants him to reach a certain level before he can fully access his power. He was literally going to take his power to the grave bc everyone was weak 😭. Bro was ready to extinct his species.)

5) This is going to be purely SLR topic but... a good parent?? Well— I— he's knowledgeable, quite so, in raising his species. And frankly maybe might be knowledgeable in other things because of that perfectionist ego of his so— but it's uh, it's cute to know that IF it benefits him he does try to care for the young (dragons) and is good at it.*CRYING. SOBBING. SQUEALING. KICKING*. When I tell you he is literally like a nagging mother you will think im in delulu (which kinda but its real please believe meee)—

6)Another spoiler to SLR, no matter how weak some parts of his species is, he does feel distate when they are disrespected by others. He has his pride in being a dragon but also some(tiny) empathy to other dragons being mistreated and hurt by others. (Idk it's just empathy for dragons or if it could extend to having a semblance of empathy for other species who are being exploited from their power, but it's there. And he finds it disgusting more than anything.)

There is more to say about him but I don't have enough time right now so I'll probably reblog this with edits later on and more exposition on the points.

#solo leveling #solo leveling Antares #sl antares #Destruction Monarch

16 notes · View notes

silentglassbreak · 4 years

Note

Waddup I wanna fuel your harringrove addition w a prompt. Can you do No. 9 the "I've seen you in my dreams" but have it be a nightmare and the one having the nightmares always thought the other was the evil behind his dreams, but then he discovers hes meant to help stop the nightmares.? Idk if that made sense but I'll love anything you write. 🤗

OMG OMG IM EXCITED.

9. “I’ve been dreaming of you, every day, for as long as I can remember.”

Dream of Me

Billy was still dreaming. He knew he was. He looked down at his hands to see he was missing a finger on one hand, as if he never had one to begin with. As disconcerting as it was, he was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Knowing he was dreaming made his spine relax just enough for him to find his nerve.

He stepped through the threshold of his bedroom door, eyes shifting down the dark hallway. The silence made his hair stand on end, forcing him to swallow so hard over the lump in his throat. He just had to make it outside, to the light of day, to freedom. Maybe he would this time.

His thoughts were interrupted by a force, slamming against his right cheekbone, throwing him off balance and landing on his ass inside the bedroom.

“Where the fuck you think you’re going, boy?” Billy cradled his face, eyes already stinging out of instinct. He pressed them shut tight, doing his best to force his subconscious to just cut him a fucking break. He was tired of this dream, this fucking nightmare. He was tired of the same song and dance he dealt with every time he closed his eyes.

As always, Neil stood over him, eyes red and piercing into him. Billy could almost feel how sharp the words rolling off his tongue were.

“Always knew you were a faggot, William.” A hot glob of spit hit Billy’s face, causing him to flinch hard. “You never could do one fucking thing right.”

Another fist landed, this time against his left eye socket, making him think his eye may actually pop out of his skull. The blow had him laying on his back, stars swirling around his vision. His head lulled to the side, blood rolling down his upper lip, when he caught sight of it.

It was always just there. Mocking him. The wooden bat, bare handle, a slew of nails coming out of the end covered in some kind of dried blood. It was always there, had always been there. It perched under his bed, just out of his reach. He wanted to grab it. Wanted to swing it on Neil and end this fucking dream, but he never could. His hands were too heavy in this place. It didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.

The blows kept coming, one after another after another, until he was lying back and just taking them. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. In his real life, Neil had never beat him quite this badly, never wanting the bruises to be too obvious. But in this dream, he didn't intend to let Billy leave; intended to end him one punch at a time.

Billy’s arms finally started to move, reaching for the bat. His fingers came within centimeters of the wood.

Billy’s eyes popped open, chest rising and falling like it did every morning. He shrugged off the feeling, same as always. Although his heart rate was elevated, the adrenaline was wearing off fast. He was used to the dreams now. Since he was a boy, the nightmares about Neil finding out he was gay haunted him.

Billy was very good at hiding it in his daily life, always keeping a girl around, bringing her to dinner sometimes. The facade was believable to everyone around him, and he took pride in that. Steve didn’t even mind his flashy behavior, knowing full well that Billy was his and always would be.

Their relationship was so easy, and Steve was so understanding of his fears. They didn’t even speak outside of their private, intimate moments, keeping the illusion alive. He really couldn't have asked for anyone better to love him, so he cherished Steve in every way he knew how.

Billy pulled himself out of bed, sweat still clinging to the back of his neck. He pulled on his clothes in the dim light of his bedroom, readying himself for the day. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he made his way out into the hall, moving to Max’s door and giving a short rap on it.

Voice hushed, he asked, “Max, you ready?” He could hear shuffling on the other side.

“Yeah, just putting my shoes on.”

The ride to the schools were mostly silent, no music pumping through the speakers. Billy’s left arm was hanging out of the window nonchalantly, cigarette balancing between two fingers. He was slumped down in the seat, lazily trailing through back roads.

“Did you have another nightmare?” Billy rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses, sighing.

“How’d you know?” She chewed on her lower lip, side-eyeing him.

“I heard you talking. Sounded like you were crying.” He flicked his cigarette and rolled his window up, sitting up straighter.

“Is what it is.” She turned her head to look at him now. Her voice was small, so quiet.

“Are you going to Steve’s today?” His head whipped around to look straight at her, neck cracking in response. The look on his face made her shrink down in her seat.

“What?” Her expression hardened, in no mood for his attitude apparently.

“Fucking please, Billy. Don’t act like I don’t know about you two.” He was genuinely confused. He had kept his secret so well, he thought.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He was working hard to keep his voice aggressive, but he was faltering, fear seeping into his soul. She scoffed and sat back, looking out the windshield.

“Whatever, play dumb. I don’t care. I just need to know if you’re picking me up or if I need to cover for your ass. Again.” His jaw was hanging, his head briefly checking the road. His mind was soaring, a burning sensation crawling from the base of his skull down to his tailbone.

“How do you know?” She smirked and rolled her eyes.

“Billy, you’re sneaky, but you’re not that sneaky.” She looked down and began picking at her fingers. “Neil has no idea.”

Billy let out a long exhale he didn’t realize he was holding. The air in his lungs felt like nails going down.

“Better fucking not find out either.”

“I’m not going to tell.” He scowled out the windshield.

“In exchange for what?” Her eyebrows lifted, shocked at the question. She shook her head.

“I don’t want anything Billy.” He rolled his head toward her, disbelieving. “Man, I’ve known for months. I haven’t told anyone yet, why would I start blackmailing you now?” He pursed his lips, considering.

All the nights he had fallen asleep at Steve’s and not realized until daybreak. Every time he skipped school to go to the quarry with him, forgetting to pick her up from school. She covered, every time, and they never talked about why.

“Thanks, shitbird.” She smiled.

“Whatever.”

The car went quiet again, almost to Hawkins Middle School, where they would part ways. When he pulled into the parking space, she didn’t immediately get out, hand resting on the door.

“Hey, Billy?” He didn’t respond, just jerked his head to acknowledge her. “You should tell Steve about the nightmares. He can probably help.” He pulled off his sunglasses, eyes glaring at her. She threw her hands up defensively, not saying another word and exiting the vehicle. He watched her bounce up the sidewalk toward the Party, joining them easily.

Steve’s lips were hot against Billy’s, slow kisses smothering him in the best way. His body molded under the brunette, hand slowly brushing through his hair. They both laid on the bed, only boxers on, making out in a lazy way until they were breathless. The darkness of night had fallen over Hawkins, leaving Billy and Steve alone for the night.

It was a Friday night, which meant Billy would be calling home shortly, to let them know he wouldn’t be home until the next day. Maybe. If Steve would ever let him leave. His eyes were closed, breathing in Steve’s air, other hand pulling at his leg to hook his thigh over his own hip.

Steve pulled back first, looking at Billy with a sort of warmth in his eyes. His smile was tired.

“Again? We just finished.” Billy returned it with a devilish grin, all teeth.

“Never enough of you, pretty boy.” Steve chuckled and leaned back, away from Billy.

“I’m tired.” Steve was being whiny, and it made Billy only want him that much more.

“That sucks. Cause I’m not done with you.” Steve curled up, snuggling his face into Billy’s neck. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around Steve, pulling his as close as he could.

“Let me just have, like, ten minutes.” Billy’s body shook with silent laughter.

“Goodnight Princess.” He held Steve there, feeling his breathing even out. He knew he would wake up around two, as he usually did, and beg Billy to cook him some eggs or macaroni and cheese. This was their routine. Billy didn’t mean to fall asleep, but Steve was so warm. So familiar. It didn’t take long before his eyes were fluttering closed.

The room was completely black, no walls or floor, no doors, nothing. All that was around was the usual inch of water on the floor like there always was. He turned his head from side to side, trying to make out where he was. He looked down at his hands, all ten fingers firmly in place. This confused him. He had to be dreaming if he was in this place?

Then he heard it, the roaring voice of his Dad echoing through nothingness. The problem was, he couldn’t see him. He spun around anxiously, an entirely new wave of horror washing over him.

“Billy-boy.” His dad’s voice sang. His eyes were blown out, straining to see in the darkness.

“Dad?” But then he was on the ground, nose bleeding. his hand came up to touch it, shying away at the searing pain and crunch of the cartilage. His head began pounding.

Billy tried to lift himself up before a sharp pin hit his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs. He gasped, trying to hold his side.

“You think you can hide from me, son?” Another kick from a foot that wasn’t there. “You’re such a fucking pussy, William.” Kick. “And you don’t fucking deserve this life I’ve given you.” Kick. “So you don’t get to run.” Kick.

Billy was struggling to breathe, choking and spitting. He still couldn’t see anything. He glanced around frantically, looking for the bat. Where was it? It was always there. But this time it wasn’t. He was alone, he was all alone.

He heard another voice, which sounded like it was at least one hundred yards away.

“Billy?” It was Steve. He was coming. And Neil would kill him. Neil would kill them both.

“Steve!” He screamed, his voice hoarse. “Don’t!” He felt a hand wrap around his throat, pinning him to the wet floor. He squirmed, clawing at nothingness over him, gasping as hard as he could.

“Billy!” Steve was getting closer, and Billy was stuck. He kicked his legs and shook his body in an attempt to free himself, but failed.

“Billy, wake up!”

His body shot up, hands flailing in front of him, making contact with skin. He looked over, seeing Steve’s hands still trying to steady him.

“Billy! It’s okay! You were having a bad dream.” Steve looked absolutely wrecked, hair a mess and staring wildly at Billy, absolutely terrified. It took him a moment to right himself, realizing he was fine. His nose wasn’t broken, he wasn’t choking, and Steve was safe.

Billy tucked his knees up, burying his face in his arms and sobbing. It was too real. It didn’t feel like a dream. Steve’s arms wrapped around him, shushing in his ear.

“S’okay babe. I’m here.” Billy felt like he couldn’t breathe. “What were you dreaming about?”

Billy took a minute to steady his breathing, lifting his head to look at Steve.

“I don’t know. It wasn’t like my other dreams.” He had never told Steve about his nightmares, never having any while in the safety of the Harrington house before. The thought infuriated him. He didn’t have nightmares with Steve. Steve was his safe place.

“What made it different?” Billy was scowling at the comforter, the anger burning hot in his veins.

“The bat. I didn’t have the stupid fucking bat.” Steve raised an eyebrow in apprehension?

“A bat? Like, the animal?” Billy snorted, shaking his head.

“No, a baseball bat.” He wiped his face and shrugged. “It’s always there. I can never grab the fucking thing, but it helps me remember I’m dreaming.” Steve nodded, understanding.

“So, you didn’t know you were dreaming?”

“I kind of figured, but it felt so real.” Steve gave him a small smile.

“I’m sorry, Billy. But hey,” Steve leaned back on the bed, arm reaching down toward the floor. “you can borrow mine if you want. It's pretty deadly.”

His hand came up, and Billy went white. There was a long handled bat in his hands, old and darkened with something that looked like blood. On the head of the bat, at least ten nails stuck out, bent and rusted. His heart fell about twenty stories.

The bat was identical to the one from his dreams, and something inside of Billy told him it was the bat from his dreams. It was always there, untouchable. He felt like he may fall over, the stunning realization knocking him completely off kilter.

The look on Billy’s face and him failing to respond sent Steve into a flurry of explanation, ears turning pink. “I’m sorry, I know it’s a bit much for home protection. But, I mean, you never know when shit’s going to go do-“

“Where did you get that?” His eyes were still bugging out, fixed on the wood in Steve’s hands.

“Oh,” Steve lifted it gently, offering it to Billy. “It was Nancy’s. I guess I kind of stole it from her about a year ago.” Billy picked it up, examining every splinter and nail.

“Why?” He looked up at Steve from under his lashes. “Why do you have it?” Steve chewed on his lip.

“It’s a really long story.” He scratched the back of his head. Billy couldn’t help but crack a smile, moving the bat back to the floor behind Steve.

His arms gently pulled around his boyfriend, pulling him close. His eyes welled with tears again, struggling to hold himself together.

The realization was dawning on him. When he was dreaming, Steve was there. When he was hurting, bleeding, dying, Steve was there. He had always been. Before they met, when Billy was a boy, Steve was there. Protecting him. Reminding him, there’s a way out. There’s a solution just out of reach, and still safe. Steve was his protection. His safe space.

“Billy? What’s wrong?” Steve pulled back to look at him. Billy couldn’t help but break out into a cackle, shaking his head.

“Harrington, you son of a bitch.” Steve’s eyebrows raised, a pout playing on his lips.

“The fuck?” Billy sat back on his ass, laughter turning hysterical.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just so fucking nuts!” Steve clearly wasn’t following. His face told Billy he was confused, and slightly off-put somehow. It made Billy sober enough to look at him with a fond smile.

“Steve,” He looked up at the ceiling, still forcing his laughter down. “You’re probably not going to believe me.”

Growing impatient, Steve snapped. “What the fuck won’t I believe, Billy?” It made Billy stop laughing and realize he needed to explain himself. He cleared his throat and looked right at Steve, working to form the words. He felt embarrassment, but he pushed passed it.

Billy finally looked directly at Steve.

“Harrington, I’ve been dreaming of you, every day, for as long as I can remember.” Steve’s eyes were hyper-focused on Billy, staring in disbelief. This was what Billy needed to say?

“Come again?” Billy shrugged and turned his entire body to the brunette.

“Look,”

He began explaining his nightmares. All of them. From when he was ten and realized he was gay, to the night before when he was home in bed. He explained that they always had the same plot line; his Dad found out he was gay and was going to beat him to death for it. That he wanted to fight back, and there was the bat.

He told Steve that the bat had always been there, looking the same as Steve’s, perched somewhere only a fraction of an inch out of his reach. How he was always so close to reaching it before he woke up.

Billy told Steve that he was certain that was why he always woke up. It was Steve who was waking him up. Steve who was watching over him, never letting his Dad take it too far. He told Steve he understood now that the bat wasn’t there to mock him, but to save him and end the dream.

Steve’s expression was crumbling, flashing between confusion and understanding.

“So...now you know l, I guess.”

And then Steve was laughing, completely out of control. He fell onto his side on the bed and his laugh echoed through the room.

“That’s…” He was struggling to speak between breaths. “So…” He had tears from laughing so hard. “Fucking…” Billy was getting a little offended. “Crazy!”

A strike of something that resembled rejection and shame hit Billy all at once. Steve called him crazy, and that’s just fucked up. He slapped the skin on Steve’s shoulder hard.

“Fuck off! I’m not crazy!” Steve waved a hand at him, still chuckling.

“You’re not crazy. The fact that you’ve been dreaming about my fucking baseball bat is crazy.” He sat up on his elbow and smiled up at Billy. “This last year has been the most psychotic, fucking mental year of my life, and what you just said? It’s crazy. But I’ve definitely heard crazier. You don’t even know the half of it.” Billy quirked a small smile.

“I don’t?” Steve shook his head, coughing out the rest of his giggles.

“It’s a long story.” Steve was smirking, eyeing Billy. “I could tell you,” He let his voice fall low. “over some eggs.”

#harringrove #steveharrington #billyhargrove #strangerthings #ff #fanfic #fic request #prompt request

39 notes · View notes

ladyymontilyet · 7 years

Note

drace, do you have any idea what you've done?? i'll ask for 01, 02, 04, 10, 12, 13, 21, 28, 32, 33, 39 and 50

bunder a read more bc i talk!!!! too much!!!

1. When did you first start writing?

Uh. Ok so I have two technical starts-- if you mean writing and sharing my writing, I was maybe ten or eleven, and I posted MLP fanfic to quotev and soon after got into RPing in the Hetalia fandom. If you mean writing as a hobby in general it wasssssssss grade five. We had to write short stories and I know mine was probably pretty bad (all I remember is it was some sort of retelling of the whole King Arthur mythos, or what I knew of it at age 8/9 lmao) and I really, really liked it. Which is why I still write, and also definitely a direct result of my reading habits when I was small bc I was. super far in reading as a kid to the point teachers were frustrated that I walked into grade two with my dad;s old copy of The Hobbit and could explain Harry Potter better than the student teacher. That’s off topic, tho, but what I’m saying is I’ve always been really proud of my lit skills lmao

2. What was your favourite book growing up?

This is going to come as a shock to anyone who has spoken to me for more than five minutes but I loved The Hobbit by J.R.R Tolkien with my entire being growing up. I also loved this lil information book I had on beluga whales bc I had a thing for beluga whales.

4. Have you ever thrown a book across a room?

Like from reading it and getting a plot twist??? No. I’ve probably tossed a textbook to pass it to someone tho??? Usually when a book hits me with shit I close it and take a few seconds to be like “F U C K”

10. What’s your biggest writer pet-peeve?

From a writing standpoint or a reading standpoint??? Both. Ok both uh from a writing point I hate wanting to write, and having the motivation and time and words but when I put things down and it all feels wrong and I slowly get more frustrated at myself and my writing until I doubt if I’m even a decent writer at all. From a reading standpoint it’s when authors don’t fucking use commas. they exist. use them. continue. a. sentence. for. more. than. two.. words. if. ur. not. making. a. point. (im looking at u hunger games u piece of shit)

12. Who is your favourite author?

god dont do this to me elfie shit ok uh. I’M NARROWING IT DOWN TO TOP 3 bc I really dont have a favourite???? I like authors and stories but rarely would I follow an author just for their writing.

1 J. R. R Tolkien (shocking, I know)

2 V. E Schwabb (I BOUGHT ADSOM ON A WHIM AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH I preordered the collectors edition despite it coming out in like. 7 months)

3 Rick Riordan (listen i love his style of storytelling it’s got quirk and its relatable in that it doesnt force jokes or sarcasm, ALSO the pjo series is??? prime for OCs)

13. What’s your favourite writing quote?

I’m taking this a lil liberally but. Directly related to writing and story-telling, I really love this one from Varric Tethras in Dragon Age II (its also the quote that like. solidified how much he resonates with me as a character like gosh) and it’s “ There’s power in stories, though. That’s all history is: the best tales. The ones that last. Might as well be mine. “

And talking more liberally for creating in general, it’s that longass one from RVB15 where Vic talks about creating, and that a world without stories is empty space and im tearing up typing these quotes oh gosh

21. Do you outline?

oh no. ive done it once maybe??? but that was for a class project so. i wing it and sometimes i go back and edit but mostly if i post something it was a one run thing haha

28. Which do you find hardest: the beginning, the middle, or the end?

Beginnings for sure 100%

listen i can jump in and get to it and put things together and plan for them if i need to and i can wrap things up so im satisfied but???? for some reason not setting the scene up while running with it is hard for me and i always find the beginnings i rite feel awkward and clunky and i dont like that when the rest of my writing feels mmore flowy. bleh.

32. How do you feel abut friends and close relatives reading your work?

first rule of my writing is that i dont show my family because i dont. idk i just dont. thinking of showing them makes me uncomfortable and even my dad, who im close with, doesnt get to know anything bc i know he’ll make it a joke and hurt me without meaning to

as for close friends im???? it depends. My online friends have seen my riting a lot, most of them I became friends with through roleplaying, so I’m super lucky to have seen that same side of them as well, and I’m always willing to show them my writing. Real life friends is.... mroe iffy. I’ve had some of them read my writing in person, and usually it makes me really anxious and flustered bc I’m a mess. the only person irl that I really trust with my writing without feeling too iffy on is my best friend but. first of all I’ve known her nearly a decade, and second of all she knew weeb me in person, and put up with that every day, so I know she’s seen me write worse. Idk immore open showing my work online thatn I am in person.

33. Are you interested in having your work published?

outside of fanfiction, I’d like to one day. I’d like to pt a story out there and have people like it and fall in love with my characters because writing means so much to me, and???? it’d be fucking magical to touch someone like I was as a kid in books but first of all I can’t carry a plotline and second of all I doubt that anything I could write would be worth it. there’s always gonna be something better, and that’s fine but especially since I focus on fantasy whenever I write my own ideas it wouldn’t go far.

long and short of it is I’d love to because I’d love to be able to reach out to people like authors did to me with their work as a kid, but I doubt I’d ever get there.

39. What’s the weirdest story idea you’ve ever had?

I’ve had this idea kicking around for the longest time about how the universe unravelling was an accepted problem in life and ive thought of ways to branch it in but. usually it just sits lmao

50. If you could live in any fictional world, which would it be?

Now, normally I’d sayMiddle-Earth right away, and don’t get me wrong I’d love to live there too, but at the same time, Red London from A Darker Shade of Magic is really appealing too lmao. Maybe Thedas, even???? Gosh. I’d love to live in plenty tbh

5 notes · View notes