#and I fell in love with griffith so i decided to give the anime a go

[myrxellabaratheon]

Because of reasons (plot reasons, plot reasons being Griffith *), I’m watching Berserk for the first time — anime number 2 for me after Death Note and extremely likely last one I’ll ever watch — and I’m flabbergasted by the music choices. Like I don’t know if it’s a thing of the Italian dubbing (they used to also change musics back in the day and sadly prime video doesn’t have it in English) BUT how comes that every time Griffith and Guts share the screen there’s a romantic background music?! I KNOW HOW IT ENDS, I REALLY DON’T NEED TO SHIP THEM AND THEREFORE HAVE ANOTHER REASON TO SUFFER!

* don’t worry, I know how it ends for him, still I consider him *plot* and nothing he’ll do will convince me otherwise

** when i say that i know how it ends I mean the flashback parts of the story not the entire thing, of course

[whentommymetalfie]

Homeward bound

A/N: Aka: The fic where I just threw decency and good taste out the window, and wrote the thing that finally made the last of my teeth fall out. There's a child here, because there had to be. I'll leave it up to you to figure out how it came to be. Adoption? Perhaps. Witchcraft mpreg? Maybe. It just fell down from the heavens above? Who knows! Also: I give exactly zero fucks about anything, I need Alfie and Tommy to be allowed to call each other husband. So that's a thing. I made a slight age alteration, because I have a crippling fear of death in connection to old age that I can’t deal with right now. Hope you enjoy it anyway, anon! Also, strap yourselves in: after this fic, I’m bringing one with violence and angst. Sharp turns on this blog, people. 

Summary: About fifteen years later, in a house in the countryside, everything is alright. Except Arthur still hasn't learned to knock, John is failing in his pursuit of Eradicating All Birds, and the Shelby children are on the slippery slope of illicit treehouse-building.

Pairing: Alfie/Tommy

Warnings: Some explicit/strong language. 

Wordcount: 2000

Read on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13370709

Alfie Solomons is a lucky bastard. That’s a thought that often crosses his mind. At least once every morning, when he gets to wake up in a bed with Thomas Shelby sleeping next to him.

This morning is no different. He wakes up to the sound of a bloody magpie in the tree outside the window. Fucking birds. Who knew the whole countryside was infested with ‘em? Though John sure does his best to change that, partly because Arthur is in a constant loop of complaining about the critters picking at his vegetables, and everyone is getting very tired of hearing it. Pity John such a lousy shot, otherwise it may have been a sound plan. Alfie helps him, mostly to give Cyril some exercise, but apparently Tommy has this aversion to killing animals unless necessary. He doesn’t admit it outright of course, but Alfie definitely notices the disapproving looks. So for the sake of peace in the household, he makes sure not to take any of the birds home. Perfect solution.

Alfie settles on his side to rest his eyes on Tommy. It’s a pleasant sight, alright. The years have been kind to him, there’s this eternally youthful look to his face. A few more lines around the eyes perhaps, and the shaved sides of his hair are silvery, but other than that, he looks very much the same as that first time he stepped into Alfie’s office all those years ago. He just smiles a bit more. Alfie would like to take partial credit for that.

Tommy sleeps a bit longer these days, too. Some of that crawling restlessness that’s always been etched in his bones has been chipped away over the years. It’s good for him. Maybe the horses help too. For all their stupidity, the animals do seem to have a calming effect on him. He vaguely remembers that conversation from so long ago, in the Garrison. Alfie’s always been of the opinion that in the choice between working with animals and people, you chose the animals. He decides that he’s been proven right in this theory.

Sometimes, he likes to make the insinuation that getting thoroughly fucked every night is also a factor in these prolonged periods of sleep. Mostly because Tommy gives him sharp glare whenever he does.

Tommy shifts a bit, rolling over onto his back, and Alfie catches eye of the scars as the blanket slips down to his waist. He’s got quite a few, granted, but his attention is always focused on the ones on his chest, right below his heart. And right next to it. Close fucking call. The last one, before Alfie made the statement that this was it: there was such a thing as running out of luck. And he was getting too old for this shit. Could’ve been the start of a whole debacle, but Tommy just nodded from the hospital bed. Maybe he was finally getting tired too. That life wore you out quickly. You got out. One way or the other. And the most likely way was a fucking coffin, which Alfie had no fucking plans to fix. Not for a long while.

The scars could’ve been a reminder of how bloody awful the world could be, but instead they just serve to remind him that yeah, they lived a dangerous fucking life, but somehow got out in time. But just barely. They remind him that things could’ve been a whole lot worse.

“What are you staring at?” Tommy’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

“You, of course. It’s what I usually do.” Alfie wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him close. Tommy is still drowsy enough from sleep to allow it, but in a few minutes, he’ll start complaining about ‘having things to do, and life can’t be spent in a bed’. But as of now, he just lays his head on Alfie’s chest.

“There’s been a lot of that over the years,” he says. “You should be sick of it by now.”

“Not by a long shot. Plan on doing it for quite some time yet.” Alfie professes. “I could look at you every second, of every day, for the rest of my fucking life and not get sick of it. See, you were blessed with that face, and I was blessed with these eyes that function at least decently in good lighting. So, it’s just the way it’s got to be.”

Tommy lifts his head slightly and gives him one of the signature ‘one eyebrow raised and thoroughly unimpressed’-looks. “If you want to fuck, you could just say so.”

“You know me better than that after all these years, love. I am a man of many words.” Alfie strokes his back. “But fine, since you lack my romantic finesse: Thomas, I’d like to fuck you. Preferably right now.”

Tommy braces his arms on his chest and leans down to kiss him, mostly to shut him up, Alfie guesses.

“Well, I happen to be in the mood. So, you can keep me in bed for a bit longer, if you make it worth my while.”

Alfie isn’t the one to say no.

“You know I always do.” He rolls them over and trails kisses down his neck. “I have my faults, hubris being one of them, but you could never accuse me of not taking good and proper care of you in bed.” Tommy’s breathing becomes deeper and he parts his knees to allow Alfie to settle between his thighs. Alfie grinds against him, just because he can, and lets out a satisfied moan.

“I could spend my entire bloody life like this.”

“In bed, or between my legs?”

“Both, obviously. Good place to be. If I by some mistake end up in heaven, it’s going to feel just like fucking you. Just that sensation, constantly. I’d bet my good leg on it.”

“If you don’t stop talking, you may find out sooner than you’d thought.” Tommy pushes his heels into the back of his thighs. “Just get on with it.” Alfie chuckles, sits back a little and reaches into the drawer of the nightstand-

The sound of a dog barking, and a pair of small feet drumming against the floorboards makes them both freeze. And they just about manage to straighten their features and get back under the cover before Charlie comes running into the room with Cyril in tow. The dog immediately tries to jump onto the bed, but Alfie is quick to push him down. There’s no better way of making sure Tommy will most certainly not be in the mood anytime soon, than letting that dog into the bed. Charlie rambles excitedly.

“Me and Emily and Sibyl are going to work on our treehouse, and I need help with breakfast because you say I can’t go anywhere in the morning without eating first and-“

“Slow down there, lad,” Alfie chuckles. “Remember to breathe.”

Tommy shakes his head and their eyes meet. He gets this from you.

“But Emily is already here, and she wants to go now!” Charlie is practically vibrating on his feet. “We’re going to meet Sybil by that big tree to see if the badger is still there. We think that maybe it’s dead and Sybil want’s to poke it with a stick to see and if we’re not there she will-“

“I’m sure she and the badger can wait a little while.” Tommy sits up. “Go to the kitchen, I’ll be down in a minute.”

Charlie is out the door in an instant, Cyril following close behind, barking happily.

Tommy swings his legs over the edge of the bed, and Alfie attempts to catch him by the waist.

“Yeah, this isn’t happening anymore,” Tommy states and dislodges himself from his grip. Alfie lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“So close, yet so far away.”

“And you call me dramatic.” Tommy shakes his head and starts getting dressed.

“You know, he may get the talking from me, but that boy couldn’t be still if you kept him on a leash. Reminds me of someone else.”

Tommy pulls on his jacket and indulges him in another kiss. Again, most likely to shut him up.

When Alfie comes down to the kitchen a while later, the children have already disappeared. Together with the dog apparently.

“I got him to bring a sandwich at least,” Tommy explains with his back turned against him as he makes tea. “Don’t think we’ll be seeing him until it gets dark again.”

“Independence is the best thing you can give your child. Especially if the worst thing they can get up to is steal poles from the neighbour’s fence for a treehouse.”

“He did what?”

“Oh, it’s alright. Griffiths is fine with it. I talked to him. He’s the sort of man who appreciates a sense of entrepreneurship in the young ones.”

“He’s only fine with it because he’s terrified of you. We can’t have our son running around terrorizing our neighbours.” Tommy says disapprovingly.

Alfie laughs at this. “Have you ever heard that thing about not throwing stones in glass houses? Fine expression that. Reminds us all to consider our past sins at any given point in our lives.”

“I’ll throw one at you, if you’re not careful.” Tommy mutters.

“You know, we could always take advantage of the empty house,” Alfie walks up behind him, slips his hands down his waist, over his hips. “I’m sure May can handle things at the stables for a while longer.”

“I just got dressed,” Tommy protests mildly, but is already leaning into the touch. One of those days, apparently.

“But if you think about how many times in life you will get dressed, doing it one extra really isn’t something to fuss about.” Alfie whispers as he kisses the back of his neck. “Especially if it’s for your devoted husband, who would like to show his appreciation of you by doing all kinds of unholy things to your body.”

With a soft laugh, Tommy turns around to face him, and Alfie kisses him, pushing him up against the counter until he ends up sitting on top of it. Seems like he may get lucky after all. He unbuttons Tommy’s trousers and reaches in between his legs, drawing a moan from him. And God, if that sound doesn’t make him hard-

“You have a fucking bedroom! Why is this necessary?”

Arthur is standing in the doorway and Alfie is overwhelmed by that very familiar feeling of wanting to sort-of, maybe, shoot someone. Saying a silent prayer for patience with this man, he removes his hand, and thinks he can even hear Tommy breathe a sigh of frustration.

“There's just no escaping you, is there?” Alfie exclaims and glares at Arthur. “Why have I surrounded myself with you lot? Can’t even get some peace and quiet to fuck my husband in my own kitchen.”

Arthur blushes bright red.

“Morning Arthur,” Tommy says, calm as ever again, gets off the countertop and buttons his trousers, before continuing the disrupted process of making tea. “You know that concept we’ve been talking about; knocking? You should try it sometime.”

Arthur grumbles something and looks rather displeased.

“You’ve got no one to blame but yourself. Stop sulking and have some tea.” Tommy puts out an extra cup. “Your daughter is out poking a dead badger with a stick by the way, did you know that? And apparently stealing Griffiths’ fence poles.” Arthur sits down.

“Of course I know. I followed her here. Or, tried to at least. She outran me about halfway.”

“We have to do something about them scheming like this.” Tommy states. “They can’t steal things from our neighbours. You’ll have to talk to Emily.”

“How do you know it was her idea? Could just as well be Sybil. John is way too lenient with her, she is getting to be as wild as Esme that girl.” Arthur says. “And it’s just for a treehouse! Can’t be that big of a deal.”

“We both know it starts off that way, and then it spirals.”

“Spirals to where? Setting up a bookmaking business in the treehouse?” Arthur chuckles at his own joke. “Illegal betting on the ducks down in the pond?”

Alfie pours himself a cup of tea and smirks. “Careful Arthur, Thomas may get ideas.” Tommy doesn’t dignify him with an answer, but gives a ‘look’, before he goes back to the topic of the children’s decent into crime.

Alfie sits down by the table and listens as the two brothers argue over the possible, eventual consequences of treehouse-building using illicitly acquired materials. And he sort of forgives Arthur for barging in, as usual, and ruining his chances of getting some this morning. There’s always tonight. And Tommy will definitely be up for it then.

At the moment, he is pretty content just watching him. Tommy is busy with his now rather heated discussion with Arthur, and can’t tell him not to gawk. Alfie is happy to be able to gawk: he always enjoys it when Tommy gets riled up. The way he gestures, and how his eyes get that sharp look to them.

Yeah. Alfie Salomons is a lucky bastard alright.

[mastermistressofdesire]

What drew you to Griffith as a character? What do you see in him that you don't see in others? who's your fave character from Guts' new party? ummmm wanna do a mutual reading of that manga with the cute lady??

Okay so First of all it took me so much time to reply because I’ve been thinking about the First Question.

What drew me to Griffith as a character?

What Indeed.

I think I should begin by saying that my order of consuming Berserk was

1. First Two Movies

2. 1997 Anime

3. Manga

So My impressions during the Movie  was first off- Asshole. To put it simply.

Very pretty, very fascinating, possibly mentally unstable, asshole-but going around telling people they belong to you and they should be prepared to die for you seemed a bit much to me. Not the most endearing first impression. And honestly I thought this was a trope I’d seen before. Problematic and abusive characters who sparked controversy within fandoms because they happened to be attractive and may have had some nominal ‘tragic backstory’ which was used to justify it. It’s not something I necessarily hate in narrative,sometimes it is pretty interesting,( and I’ve always sort of been in love with the villains) specially in horror sub-genres, but it wasn’t new to me. So my reaction was interested but not invested.

Then post time skip, things changed. Suddenly it wasn’t the cold allure, it was clumsy affection and I really really liked it. This was also the point where I was pretty sure that This was going to be a cannon gay series and that the whole recommending berserk as a testosterone- fantasy- gore- fest  was a huge practical joke to get people to watch the romantic drama.

So , I thought it had taken a love conquers all route as Griffith was now dishing out  ‘ Do I need a reason to put myself in harms way for your sake’ s instead of ‘I will decide where you will die for me’ s . I thought it was cute honestly and it seemed like character development so I hung on mostly for the dynamic not Griffith specifically. Then that creepy ass smile happened after he heard news of Both julius’ and adonis’ death. And the movies suddenly threw the Gennon angle at us at which point I was like---woah woah hold on this doesn’t quite add up. So You’re telling me this now insecure, madly in love, philosophical, seemingly idealistic dude is also simultaneously okay with murdering children and exploitative sex of some sort? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP. THIS IS FASCINATING AS HELL.

And I dropped the second movie midway to go see the anime. And I made a terrible mistake. Hell I think I can pinpoint the exact point It started and the exact moment I realised it. It started the moment Griffith placed the broken knight-doll on the child’s corpse and I realised it  when he turned around to place his hand on Casca’s shoulder, Smiled and said ‘It’s fine, I’m Okay’ in the river, with his arms still gushing down blood. I fell in love with this character.

There were so many stabs to the heart within these two points. Maybe I’ll write a separate post about that.

But this brings me to the second question,What does he have that others don’t?

While not necessarily something no other character has, a unique feature which drew me to Griffith as he was now depicted in the anime was his awareness. Something which often bugs me about protagonists in general in many series is how unaware they are of the cost that is associated with what they’ve set out to achieve. The collateral damage in their ‘righteous war’.

The fact that Griffith knew the cost, knew that others were paying the price for his dream, was aware of the sacrifices people had made for him, wanted to subconsciously compensate for that, give back a little for what was taken. That he holds no illusions about the fact that what can be beautiful to him can be horrifically ugly to others . He doesn’t claim to be in the right nor does he try to protect his pride or dignity to that end.

I enjoy his perception, his ability to see things through more than one perspective.

His ability to completely abandon the moral high-horse, despite having a sense and understanding of morality and valuing it.

Since this post is dealing with the things with drew me towards him as a character, I wont go into the fallout . this post is monster-length as it is.

So after the anime, I reached the Manga and I got a third set of reasons- Something I really really wasn’t expecting to find- Relatability. 

This was literally in the tiniest of things. And were more personal to me than an objective reading of the material. And I can’t seem to remember all of it in one go but-

Reading a lot, Reading everything you could get your hands on, contemplating life, thinking about your existence, thinking about morality, being a prankster, being afraid to fall in love, being oblivious to falling in love, hiding your smiles, hiding your pain with smiles, never having someone who’d actually understand what you were trying to say, creating a fake persona, wanting to take it off but not wanting to see the disappointment and disgust when its torn away, pride, being afraid you were driving someone away by saying too much, being afraid of being abandoned, Being afraid a lot. 

ANYWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYs

Favorite in Gut’s new Party- Farnese and Serpico. I like them both equally.

Mutual reading- YES YES YES!

[esthersequeira]

the report card.

Sienna Moor-Griffith wanted nothing more than the love story her parents had. Nothing more, nothing less. Just fall in hopeless, romantic, powerful love. From the movies she watched the guy always got the girl. And once upon a time her father did just that. John Moor had met Lilah Griffith when they were in highschool, and like Sienna’s movies, it was very much a classic romance. John and Lilah were best friends who fell in love and followed the tried and tested route of highschool sweethearts by going to the same college, getting jobs, moving in together, getting married and having a baby. A classic romance. But one day everything changed. One evening when Sienna had gotten her grades and they were tragic to say the least, she heard her parents come in.

As she sat at the top of the stairs, clutching her report card, she listened, stealthily to them. Something was odd about tonight.

“Do you want a beer?”

Lilah gratefully accepted the beer he proffered. “Same old same old.”

“Yeah…I feel like shit…”

“You should…” She mumbled, pressing the cold glass to her forehead.

“Alright, haven’t you made your point? Want to keep beating a man down?”

“I’m not over it.”

“Well then maybe you should! Life’s too damn short.” John got up from the sofa, downing his beer and opening another one.

“I keep playing that image in my mind. It’s stuck in there.”

“Watch TV then.”

“John.”

“There was nothing for me to do but do what I did.”

“You could have slowed down.”

“Not at the speed I was going.”

“The man looked straight into me.”

“Did he wink?” John chuckled bitterly. Lilah gave John a look of disgust. “Relax. I know it’s serious but lower the flame woman.”

“He had the saddest face.”

“I don’t want to hear this shit.”

“You didn’t see his eyes. He looked right through me, it was so sad and we connected in that instant…like, I felt him, I can’t explain it, I felt what he was feeling. I don’t understand how you didn’t see him John? I mean, he was clear as daylight and you laughed outloud and swerved as if you wanted to hit him but then you did, you did hit him and I can’t stand it…what’s wrong with you?”

“Look. I saw him. I saw him. I can’t deny it. But I laughed because he wasn’t making it across the road in time and I was playing around that I was gonna hit him but then I actually did and I didn’t mean it, I didn’t, it wasn’t my intention to hurt the man.”

“You killed him.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“The man’s head bashed into the front windshield and he flipped over the car and landed like a pretzel on the road! Don’t tell me he’s fine John!”

“I’m saying he–I know he got hurt—"

“He’s dead!”

“Don’t say that word. I didn’t kill him! I didn’t want to kill him!”

“Why’d you swerve the car?!”

“I just told you it was, I was playing around, I didn’t expect to hit the damn guy. Christ! I didn’t want–“

“You hit him so hard that I felt it, the whole car jolted and you kept going full speed. How can you not have stopped?”

“I did stop!”

“Not until way after.”

“I stopped when we were far enough because you know, I was shaken up. I mean damn, don’t you think I was in some sort of shock. I’m still in shock, my whole body is trembling.”

“This is so wrong.”

“It’s you! Making me crazy in the car all the time. Telling me which way to go and how to drive and blasting the radio, always distracting me from the road.”

“Don’t try to pin this shit on me you liar!”

“You’re a liar!”

“No, you’re a liar!”

“I’m not a liar! Calling me a—I hit the guy cause you make me—"

“You saw him and you made him a target! That’s the truth.”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“I don’t know what to think of you but you hit him so now what? Couldn’t even get help.”

“I got out of the car.”

“And what did I see you do?” She grabbed his collar, “Tell me, John. What did I see you do?”

Shaking her off, he grabbed her arms and said, “my heart was pounding, thought I was gonna have a heart attack, never felt anything like that, I thought I was dying, the closer I got to him, I thought I was gonna die and I saw him, he was, he was alive but dying…no way he was gonna make it, not the way he looked and what I saw…he was, he was going.”

“John, I saw what you did…I watched the whole thing.”

“What was—the poor bastard was gasping for air and he was suffering, in pain, his eyes were, filling with blood…blood was…he wanted, he didn’t want –but I—”

“You’re a doctor now? What right did you have to decide?”

“I was trying to put him out of his misery Lilah.”

“If we called for help, I bet he would have lived. You just didn’t want to face the consequences.”

“I’m gonna punch you right in your face if you say that again!”

“Go ahead, touch me and you’ll regret it.”

“What are you going to do? Kill me?!”

“Useless.” She muttered.

“Do it…do it Lilah!”

“Animal. We are done. I am done with you. I am not going to be with a man who did what you did. I cannot believe what you did.”

“I saved him from suffering.”

“Disgusting. You are–I can’t believe what you did, I can’t believe it.”

John took a seat and tried his best to calm down. “I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t. But he was struggling. He was hopeless. I saw all those stones and I just thought it was the best way. Something took over me, I don’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing but something entered inside of me and I grabbed the rock and I stood over him and at first I couldn’t do it but he nodded. This man nodded approval of what I—I brought it down on him as hard as I could. It was done. When I moved him on the side of the road, I took his wallet cause I needed to know his name. I wanted to know the name of the man. I realized that my fingerprints were…so I took his wallet, I kept his wallet. I panicked.”

“Wait. You what?! We have a child in this house! You bought evidence inside the house?!”

John pulled out a bloodied wallet.  “This is Carl Matthew’s wallet.”

Silence hung heavy in the living room. The room was so tense you could cut it with a knife.

Slowly, as if talking to a child, Lilah said “How is anyone going to identify who this man is if you have his wallet, John?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh my god…we left him out there like he’s deer.”

“I know. Can’t go back now. Cops might be still be there. The car is evidence cause of the windshield and…” He paused, glancing at the wallet.

“Give me the wallet.”

“No.” Another beer downed. Another beer opened.

“Give me his wallet! There’s probably a number we can call to at least tell his family.”

“No way.”

“Give me his wallet.”

“I am not giving you this wallet. I will search through it myself.”

“No you won’t.”

“Yes, I will.”

“This is all wrong. This whole thing is wrong. Someone could have seen us, the car and took down our information…what if he wasn’t alone…we’re done…we need to call the cops, tell the police the truth of what happened.”

“I can’t. I’ll go to jail. I have a record and I fled the scene.”

“Don’t matter! It was an accident! I’m a witness!”

“I smashed his face in with a rock!”

“John…what the hell is wrong with you…” she trailed off weakly.

“I don’t know…” he mumbled, just as desolate.

At the top of the stairs, still clutching her report card Sienna, skipped happily to her room. Sitting in front of her mirror, she brushed out her hair and smiled to herself. Now no one would care about her F in Math!