#bc yk mirror shit. But I ended up going with this line instead because it's VERY VERY fitting for the conversations going on w/ Rook.

[morrigan-sims]

And I forget sometimes I'm just flesh and bone.

As he stands in the ruined bathroom, all Rook can think is, At least now I can breathe.

#ts4 #ts4 edit #the sims 4 #sims 4 edit #my edits #ts4 render #my renders #blender render #oc: Rook #dnd sims #ts4 dnd #please I beg of you open this in a new tab and look it it. it's 2080px across and I spent way too long on tiny details. #(like the blood on the shards of glass on the sink. and the mirror alone took well over an hour...) #augh I love my boy so much #he's really going through it right now tho #poor bby #but when he's going through it I'm having fun playing him so... #yeah #blood tw #tw blood #so this is scheduled to go up right as we're starting our session picking up from exactly this point. #I thought that would be thematically fitting #please listen to this song it's so good and it's very Rook. #I almost put the lyrics right after this line (''I saw my reflection on the street that night / he said I got something to change your life #/ he said you don't look wrong but you don't look right'') #bc yk mirror shit. But I ended up going with this line instead because it's VERY VERY fitting for the conversations going on w/ Rook. #specifically about his reckless endangerment of himself to the point where some of his party members consider it to be self-harm. #(and obviously punching a mirror intentionally is self-harm.) #but like Rook doesn't see it that way and he's so confused as to why the party is so upset with him. (esp. his mentor and the gunslinger.) #god I could talk about this ridiculous man for hours so I'll stop here.

[biillyhargroves]

sooo a billy request bc you do him so damn well / he’s sick & rlly wants to be taken care of so so all he does is complain ( yk he’s a ‘tough boy’) but then secretly melts at all the attention? ❤️❤️

cough syrup(fic requests open)

Billy Hargrove is good at a lot of things; being sick is not one of them.

Not that anyone is particularly good at being ill. Some people simply handle it better than others, and Billy tends not to handle it at all. Doctors’ recommendations- rest and fluids, medication -tend to fall by the wayside. Instead, he prefers to act as though he is not sick at all. The logic, of course, is that if he pretends he is well, his body will catch up. In seventeen years, he has yet to succeed, but this does not stop him from trying. And so, when he wakes up with sinus pain and a sore throat, he promptly ignores it. 

He downs the half-finished cup of cold coffee his father left abandoned on the kitchen table. He searches for the history book he’s not even sure he brought home. He shouts at Max to, “Hurry your ass up or I’m leaving without you!” He revs the engine like he’s really going to do it, and when Max does get in the car he says, “You’re explaining if we’re late.”

“What the hell’s wrong with your voice?”

Billy clears his throat and says, “Nothing.”

Max doesn’t believe him, but she doesn’t press the matter. She is quiet for the whole drive, but when Billy pulls up outside of Hawkins Middle School, she lingers in the car. Billy can feel her gaze on him, and he raises his eyebrow at her. 

“Get out,” Billy says, words strained as he stifles a cough. Max looks like she’s going to say something, and Billy almost hopes she does- almost wants her to ask if he’s okay, almost wants her to figure out what’s really wrong -almost. But she doesn’t. She throws open the door and drops her skateboard onto the ground. 

The day drags at a glacial pace. The longer it lasts, the worse Billy feels. He tries to brush it off. He keeps up his act as long as he can, stealing away private moments to collect himself when he thinks the mask is about to fall. On one such occasion he stumbles out of a bathroom stall to find Steve there, hands on his hips, waiting.

“The fuck do you want?” Billy grumbles. He doesn’t mean to be harsh and he hopes that Steve knows this. They have an agreement, after all. Their classmates think they hate each other, and that is the safest assumption for anyone to have. Steve opens his arms to reveal the empty room around them. 

“Cut the shit,” he says. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” Billy says. He shoves past Steve and turns on a faucet. The cold water sends a shudder down his spine. He grits his teeth, pumps soap into his palm, watches the suds rise up beneath the rush of water.

“Tell your face,” Steve says. Billy takes a brief look in the mirror. There are deep circles under his eyes (he’d been telling people he’d had a shitty night’s sleep, which wasn’t entirely a lie); he even thinks he sees some swelling there, a puffiness that hadn’t been there this morning. Billy grabs a paper towel, dries his hands, almost uses it to blow his nose and then remembers that he’s not supposed to be sick. He tosses the towel in the waste bin. “Oh, come on,” Steve says.

“Shut up,” says Billy.

“It’s just us,” Steve says. “You can say it.”

“Say what?” Billy demands. 

“That you’re sick,” says Steve. 

“I’m not-”

“Don’t,” Steve says. “You promised you wouldn’t lie to me.”

“That was about-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve says.

“You’re a fucking dick, Harrington, you know that?”

“And you look like death warmed over,” Steve says. Billy hangs his head. He looks cornered, and Steve sags his shoulders, almost feeling bad. “We still on for tonight?” he asks, and he can see Billy’s relief at the change in subject.

“Yeah,” Billy says. “I just gotta wait for my dad to leave.”

“Okay,” Steve says. He stands there a moment too long, watching Billy carefully. Then he says, “Tonight.” 

Of course, by the time tonight rolls around Billy feels like death warmed over, re-frozen, and thawed out again. He aches all over and his throat is on fire. He does not have his usual quick wit when he picks Max up after school. There is none of their usual bickering, and though Max won’t stop staring at him, the only thing she asks is, “Are you seeing Steve tonight?”

“What’s it matter to you?” Billy grumbles, voice so low Max almost doesn’t hear him.

“It doesn’t,” Max says.

“Then why’d you ask?” He sounds like he’s been gargling with rocks and he surpasses a cough at the end of every sentence he speaks.

“You can drop me off at Mike’s,” she says. “If you want to just go straight to Steve’s. I’ll tell Neil I stayed for AV club.”

“And why would you do that?” Billy asks.

“Because you’re sick and Neil’s not gonna do jack shit about it,” Max says. “But Steve will.”

“I’m not sick,” Billy says.

“Well, you can drop me off at Mike’s anyway,” Max says. She is finding her footing on what she hopes is the path of least resistance and, luckily for her, Billy doesn’t have the energy to argue. He swings a right abruptly, circles back toward the school, makes his way to Wheeler house. When he asks Max when he’s supposed to pick her up, she says, “Just stay at Steve’s. I’ll get a ride with Will.”

“Max, I can-”

“Ask Steve for NyQuil or something. Sleep off whatever you don’t think you have.”

“You’re not my fucking mother,” Billy says.

“We’re family, right? We’re supposed to look out for each other?”

“Save the speech.”

“You’ll stay at Steve’s?”

“If it’ll make you shut up.”

“It will,” Max says, so Billy agrees. When he arrives at Steve’s house, Steve is surprised to see him so early. Billy lets himself in the back door out of habit. Even when there are no parents home, sneaking is second nature. Steve startles when he hears Billy coming in through the kitchen.

“Christ, man,” he breathes. “Make a noise.”

“Sorry,” Billy mumbles. He furrows his brow when he spots an array of pill bottles lined up on the countertop. There are red and white cans of Campbell’s soup, too, and a box of Lipton’s teabags. “The hell’s all this?”

“For you,” Steve shrugs. “Since you’re obviously not taking care of yourself.”

“Steve, I’m-”

“Don’t say fine,” Steve says. “Don’t say not sick. Actually, don’t say anything. Go sit down. I pulled some blankets out for you. They’re on the couch. I was gonna stop by the video store, but you can just pick from what we have. My dad actually has decent taste for such a stuck-up son of a bitch.”

“Why-”

“Because I care about you, dickhead. That’s why.”

Billy won’t pretend this doesn’t touch him, insult and all. He can’t say that this doesn’t like the attention. He also can’t say the idea of melting into the Harringtons’ overstuffed couch doesn’t sound like everything he’s secretly wanted all day. He approaches Steve from behind, arms snaking around Steve’s middle as Steve rifles through the open cabinet in front of him.

“Hey,” Steve says softly, one hand coming down to rest on top of Billy’s. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks. Billy rests his head in the curve of Steve’s neck and Steve says, “You feel warm.”

“My head is killing me,” Billy admits. “My throat’s killing me.”

“You wanna take something?” Steve asks, and Billy shrugs. “Go lay down.” 

Steve squeezes Billy’s hand and Billy releases him. Steve fishes a bag of cough drops out of the cabinet and shakes a few into Billy’s palm before Billy retreats into the living room. Steve makes him tea, pours him cough syrup, makes two trips to carry in both water and whatever orange juice they had leftover in the carton in the fridge. By the time he finally settles down beside Billy, Billy is cocooned in the nest of blankets Steve had laid out for him. Steve gets some medicine into him: Robatussin and some Ibuprofen. He sits down beside Billy and, when Billy leans again him, he gently guides Billy to lay down. Billy settles his head in Steve’s lap and allows Steve to brush back his hair. 

“You okay?” Steve asks him, though Billy is twilighting somewhere between awake and asleep and he’s entirely sure if Billy can hear him. 

“Everything hurts,” Billy mumbles.

“Drama queen,” Steve teases, but he slips his hand to Billy’s shoulders and gently massages the coiled muscles there. 

“Shut up,” Billy quips. He sounds sleepy, and Steve softly shushes him. He rubs Billy’s back, and Billy slowly drifts off. As he does, a fleeting thought floats through his mind: maybe, just maybe, this is better than toughing shit out. 

#harringrove #harringrove fanfic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove fanfiction #stranger things fic #billy hargrove #steve harrington #I know this isn't exactly what you asked for but it's where my brain went #I hope you enjoy it!!!! #lex writes fics #anon #answered

[bthump]

I'm pretty sure you've already talked about this but, I want to know your opinion on guts letting go of his obsession with griffith? In one of berserks chapters when they ask his opinion about hawk of light he answers with a smile so people think that he's gotten over it

Extremely short answer: if that’s chapter 345 you’re referring to Guts isn’t smiling in a single one of his panels after he gets asked about Griffith, in fact he has a pretty pronounced :/ face throughout, so that’s just inaccurate. If it’s a different scene, then I have no memory of Guts being asked about the ~Hawk of Light~ any other time so idk lol.

Now, here’s the long answer. I wrote it out last night and decided it was too late to post. Now that the new chapter raws have come out, well, idk if anything here is straight up contradicted now (i’m being pretty vague anyway), but bear in mind that I wrote this before seeing them.

This is a tricky topic for me ngl, like this is the exact question that fucks me up when it comes to my hopes and fears for Berserk.

Is Guts going to get over his obsession with Griffith and genuinely move on?

But as of right now my answer is an emphatic no, Guts is not over his obsession yet. After his last climactic test of resolve when he got in a boat on the docks we saw Guts’ residual feelings loud and clear. Guts’ eyes meeting Griffith’s across a vast distance, the Beast of Darkness taunting him in his subconscious and calling Griffith “the true light that burns us,” and Guts thinking to himself on the boat, “when this journey’s over, I’ll…” before flashing to an image of Griffith.

It would just be straight up poor storytelling if somewhere between Guts ruminating on the boat after the sea god fight and landing at Elfhelm he’d conquered his obsession off-screen and now he’s totally “over it.”

What I think is possible, if shitty, is Guts conquering his obsession at some point in the future in a climactic and conclusive way - after backsliding first. Like let’s be real here, all this constant foreshadowing about the armour and the Beast of Darkness and Guts ignoring various warning signs etc isn’t going nowhere. Guts is going to lose himself to the armour and fight Griffith. That’s pretty much a foregone conclusion.

After that happens I will grant that there is a chance we’re headed for something along the lines of the power of rpg group friendship and/or het love saving the day and Guts’ soul, bringing him back from the armour, and then Guts conquers his obsession properly and… Griffith is defeated in some way, quite possibly because after everything he’s failed to overcome his own feelings. Might be an end of his own making, if that’s the case. Could be by Casca’s hand. Guts could still easily die in this scenario, but yk, it’d be bittersweet bc he dies with his humanity intact or whatever.

Conversely, what I want to happen, what I think would be good, emotionally impactful and thematically resonant writing, is Guts being forced to confront and untangle his feelings for Griffith instead of just trying to overcome them. I want Guts’ apparent inner conflict of Griffith/revenge/Beast of Darkness vs Casca/rpg group/humanity to ultimately turn out to be overly simplistic bullshit. I want Guts’ attempt to get over Griffith to have been misguided from the start, another one of his many ultimately futile and misguided attempts to repress painful and complex feelings through the pursuit of a goal.

I think the most satisfying ending is one where Guts finally confronts his mixed feelings for Griffith and untangles them, and finds the positive feelings still have value. I want the remains of their intense world-altering relationship to go hand in hand with the tattered remnants of their respective humanities. I want Guts to emotionally connect with Griffith and his conveniently unfrozen heart during their final confrontation so they can finally understand each other and their feelings and give readers a real cathartic conclusion to their relationship while probably providing an intimate emotional parallel to whatever world changing metaphysical bullshit is also going on.

Like not only do I not want Guts to move on, I want Guts’ failure to move on to mirror Griffith’s failure to move on and be an essential piece of a non-tragic ending. I want Guts’ lingering positive feelings for Griffith to be what save him from the armour, or from losing his soul to the temptation of revenge, or what the fuck ever.

I want their Golden Age relationship to still have a positive impact on the story, basically.

Essentially my question when it comes to the future of Berserk isn’t Will Guts get over Griffith? but rather Should Guts get over Griffith? And I want the answer to be no.

Idk. I can honestly see good arguments either way lol. It’s frustrating, for every great argument I come up with that supports Guts examining his complicated contradictory feelings and untangling them rather than lumping them together and getting over them, I think of an argument that supports Guts getting over Griffith entirely as intended genuine personal growth. And vice versa, for that matter.

But no matter which option is more likely at this point, I absolutely 100% think that Guts confronting his feelings instead of getting over them is by far better writing. It’s less contradictory, it’s more interesting, it’s narratively symmetrical (in that Guts and Griffith and their mutual failed attempts to get over their residual feelings would mirror each other), their relationship’s got more emotional grounding and build up than Guts and a group of people who barely know him, or Guts and a woman who only even entered into a relationship because Miura wanted more Eclipse drama, it’s more thematically resonant*, and imo it’s absolutely necessary to any emotionally satisfying ending.

Also like, I want to emphasize that this doesn’t mean Guts needs to go “oh shit I’ve been wrong the whole time I should’ve been dealing with my Griffith related feelings instead of trying to fix Casca, wow I fucked up” lol. Literally all it would take is a) Elfhelm turns out to be a bust (which I think is very likely anyway), and b) the emotions between Griffith and Guts amount to something positive as they conflict. This can be anything from smthn life saving to a moment of understanding and personal fulfillment to something that affects the world in a more yk epic metaphysical way to saving souls, to one or both dying smiling.

I just need something, you know?

*I use this phrase a lot lol but what I mean specifically here is that Guts and Griffith’s relationship has been our main illustration of the impact of relationships in contrast to isolating dreams, and I think it would be more powerful to maintain their relationship as our illustration of that theme - true light, the impact of being known and valued, love and hate and need for connection, humanity vs monstrosity - than to swap it out with a different relationship in the last fifth of the story or whatever, and depict Guts and Griffith’s confrontation without that intense, complex emotion fueling it.

#Anonymous #ask #a #b #theme: speculation #theme: ending #theme: true light #character: guts #theme: relationships as personal growth