wrote some Farnesca.
Tag: fic
80′s-to-today and cigarettes
Farnesca 1.0: farmy modern au
Even in the cool air of an autumn evening, the little velveteen box burns a hole through her pocket. Her fingertips brush it when she reaches into her coat to fish out her wallet and her chest tightens painfully.
Casca sighs an anxious laugh, smiles at, looks right through, and pays the man behind the register, and walks out of the gas station. She tosses him a “thanks” over her shoulder, but only the wind catches it.
With her hands shoved into her jacket pockets she jogs back to her truck, a rusty red thing with a white stripe down the side that’s dappled with mud. In her rickety chariot the princess awaits with mascara running down her face. She tries blots at her cheeks lightly with the Subway napkins she’d pulled from the glove compartment, her forehead pressed against the fogged-up window.
Casca hops into the driver’s seat and pulls the door closed behind her. The radio’s gone half-static, but through the fuzz comes the melancholy tinkling of some depressing piano composition. Farnese sniffles and rubs helplessly at her eyes.
“Here,” Casca passes the pack of cigarettes to Farnese. “I got ‘em.”
Farnese takes the pack and immediately cracks it open, shoving the plastic wrapping into a cup holder to reside with god knows how much in loose change and the plastic wrapping from her last 5 packs. She takes one between her pointer and middle finger shakily and gropes around the center console for a lighter.
“I grabbed these when I heard your voice over the phone.” Casca slides a match book into her palm.
Farnese groans and shoots a look of relief at her girlfriend in the driver’s seat. “Oh, I love you.” Cigarette on her lip, she lights a match.
“Mhmmm.” Casca shifts the truck into gear and head back out into the asphalt.
The sad piano notes continue to tinkle around in the cab of the truck and cut holes in any warmth between them. Farnese rolls down her window a crack while Casca hits the “SCAN” button. After a few rounds of static, the radio lands on an 80′s-to-today station that they’d listened to on all of the sunniest summer days. The crisp air seems to still for just a moment and it’s enough.
…
After a while of listening to bouncy music and the whipping of the wind against the truck, Casca pulls off the blazed trail onto a dirt road. Farnese has turned the soiled napkins in her lap into a pile of shredded bits of paper with her nails and is now trying to work a hole through the fabric of her dress by the looks of it. Casca’s eyes flick from Farnese’s hand to the road and back again. She knows they’re nearing their destination, so, after a deep inhale, she goes for it.
Casca takes Farnese’s hand in her own, grip just tight enough. Farnese, who’d been on autopilot, doing little more than tapping her cig on the rim of the window when need be with her head pressed against the cool of the glass for quite some time, perked up and was quick to take notice of the woods grown up on either side of them.
“I thought we were just gonna cruise th, the highway for a while- where are we headed?”
Casca squeezes her hand and rubs it with her thumb. “Farnese, I know I don’t say it near as much as I think it, but y’know how much I love you, right?”
Farnese sits quiet for a moment. “Of course I do. You get me better’n anybody these days,” she blubbers a bit, sniffles and laughs and rubs her nose. “I don’t think anybody else would think to bring a sad girl matches to perk her up.”
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, Farnese. You know I’ll always be there when you need out of that god-forsaken mansion of yours, right? An’ I’m not complaining about being there for you when I say I hate having t’do it.”
Farnese nods and nods and takes a drag. The woods around them are starting to thin and the road opens up ahead.
“I have really been thinking about that a lot, n’ I…”
Casca pulls off the edge of the road and puts the truck in park. Directly ahead of them the forest falls away into a large clearing that rolls down in a hillside. Even through the mussed windshield the sky free of clouds and full to bursting with stars. Farnese gasps. Casca holds the velveteen box in one palm and Farnese’s hand in the other. Farnese’s eyes, shining, look between them and then rise to meet hers.
“I think I’ve had to save you from the same tower a few too many times, Princess. I want you to come live with me in mine.”
A beat passes with a lip quiver that smothers just about every ounce of confidence Casca has in her. She breaks the eye contact and scratches the back of her neck with the ring box still in hand, absolutely floundering: “I mean, I’m not some white knight with a beaut of a gray horse, and I don’t have an even bigger ivory castle or anything, and I- I mean, cut the shit, I haven’t got a lot to offer you besides well, myself, I guess… and that’s not much, but-”
Casca’s gaze flicks up just long enough to notice the torrent of tears streaming down Farnese’s face and Casca’s hold on her hand goes totally slack.
She’s solemn in an instant. “I’m so, so sorry Farnese. I didn’t mean t… I din-”
“Oh shut up, Casca,” Farnese sobs. “I’m s- I didn’t think this is how I’d get engaged, in a fucking, ancient night dress with- my face- covered- in shit like this-”
“Ooohh nooo, oh no Farny, please, please-” Casca scrabbles for words and the rising beat on the radio catches her attention. A relieved laugh escapes her. “Listen, listen-
“C-come on Farnese, at this moment, you mean every-thi-ing…”
Farnese rubs vigorously at her eyes with her coat sleeve and looks up at Casca quizzically. Nerves have lead Casca to shed her reserved mask and in its place is the silliest smile Farnese has ever seen from her. Casca keeps singing along.
“W-ith you in that dress, lord I’ve got to confess, my thoughts verge, on,” she laughs, “dirty!”
oh come on, Eileen…
Farnese lightly slaps Casca’s hand and snorts. Confidence bandaged, Casca brings the velveteen box back into view and flips it open, revealing a ring that’s as celestial in shine as the stars outside the cab of the truck.
Casca’s laughter settles and warmth fills her chest. She sighs and clears her throat, moving out her her silly grin and back into a gentle smile. “I mean it. I know your dad treats you like shit whenever he does take a second to stop and acknowledge you, and your brothers arent much better. I’m not a business type, so I can’t imagine that any of’m will be, uh, happy about this, but. Fuck them, right? But I mean it. What d’you think? Of marrying me?”
Farnese says nothing for a bit. She tosses the butt of her cig out of the truck window and holds Casca’s hands in her own.
These people ‘round here
Wear beat down eyes sunk in smoke dried faces
They’re resigned to what their fate is
But not us, (no never) no not us (no never)
We are far to young and clever
Remember
Too ra loo ra too ra loo rye aye“I think… fuck them, definitely. And I think that, if you’re okay with marrying this, raccoon-eyed bitch in a cigarette-burnt dress, that we’ll get on just… just fine.”
Casca’s heart absolutely drops into her stomach and her silly grin surfaces again. Farnese’s hand comes up to cup her cheek and she closes the distance between them. Their lips meet, and when they part Farnese whispers into the space between them:
“I wanna hum this tune forever.”
Okay so get this
One particularly warm evening Casca shows up at Farnese’s house, spirits her away when her parents aren’t looking and takes her for a drive in her beat up old truck. Farnese was honestly pretty confused about the whole thing but it was Casca so she was down, even though that rowdy girl didn’t give her time to change out of her pjs. Anyway, they drive for a while and Casca’s oddly silent, like she usually isn’t all that talkative but rn she’s just staring out at the road and the trees around them and just not saying anything. She’s got a real determined look but there’s still a light blush coloring her face, which Farnese notices. She doesn’t say anything immediately being caught up in the moment, but after a while she shakes off her trepidation and speaks up.
“So…what’s your angle?” She asks lightly, accompanied by a fidget in her seat to mask the wavering of her voice.
Casca just shakes her head, resting her elbow on the door and pressing a hand to her face. “No angle,” She says firmly, accompanied by a slight smirk and a squint. “I just figured you’d probably want out of that stuffy house. It smells like old people and you know it.”
Holding back a laugh, Farnese just raises an eyebrow, pressing her lips into a thin line. “Your truck smells like cows and dirt.”
“Yeah yeah, princess.” Waving a hand to ward off Farnese (who was poorly trying to hide how much she unironically liked being called princess), Casca falls silent again for a while before heaving a sigh and looking out the window, peering through the trees to their left. Outside it was reaching dusk, the sky turning shades of deep pink and orange, the sun low enough to look at without hurting your eyes. She didn’t have much daylight left. Working up some courage, Casca turns back to Farnese and speaks in a burst. “You wanna do something crazy?”
Letting out the laugh at that, Farnese pulls at her seat belt and leans forward to get a better look at Casca’s face. “Casca, I’ve already done two crazy things tonight, come outside at 8 o’clock at night and get in your raggedy-ass truck. What more do you want from me?“
“You’re insulting my girl now, you’re on thin ice, bitch!” Breaking out into her own fit of laughter, Casca pulls off temporarily onto a side road and lets the excitement play itself out. After a couple minutes of fun, she lets out a breath of finality and rests her arm on the steering wheel, about to give another snarky comment before pausing to admire the angelic form in the seat next to her. At that very angle, the low-hanging sun cut through Farnese’s hair like butter, giving her a golden glow that caught Casca entirely off-guard. “So, do y-” Her voice cracking, Casca quickly clears her throat and looks out the windshield, her lips pursed. “So. I’m being serious – do you wanna do something crazy, Farnese?” Punctuating her question by tapping on the dashboard, she twitches as Farnese snorts and starts laughing yet again.
“I-I, I’m s-orry, I just- I just can’t,” Grinning, Farnese kicks her legs as much as the confined space will allow and narrows her eyes at a very confused Casca. “I just can’t take you seriously when you look at me like that.” Sitting up straight and biting the middle of her lip, she flicks her eyes down and back up and nods, her eyebrows and shoulders bouncing in tandem. “Sure, let’s go do something fucking crazy.”
—
Driving down the dirt roads she knows by heart, Casca feels a sickening warmth building in her body as they get closer and closer to her destination. As she pulls onto the glorified path that’ll lead them there, the warmth takes over her everything, her stomach clenching like a vice grip and her mind careening through space and time. Throwing the truck into park and turning off the lights, she closes her eyes for a brief moment and then turns to Farnese, leaning towards her briefly before kicking open her stuck door. “We’re here,” She whispers in a low, ominous tone, slamming the door back shut and shoving her hands into her pockets.
“Well we’re out in the boonies, aren’t we.” Farnese thinks out loud, slipping out of the truck and looking around with her hands on her hips.
Taking off at a steady pace down a walking trail, Casca shrugs. “We live in the midwest, it’s all the boonies, Farnese.” Pausing to let the girl catch up, she leans against a tree and looks down, a genuine smile on her face. “Yes…”
A little further down the trail is a natural picture frame focusing on a modest pond. Flicking her tongue out to wet her lips, Casca trots a bit further down to get a better look. There were several similar bodies of water in the area, all of which she’s very familiar with, but this was definitely the cleanest, and in her opinion, the prettiest. The sun is just peeking through the canopies of the trees across the pond and casting soft rusty images on the water. Tossing a nearby pebble into the pond, Casa smirks as the sun catches each ripple and tosses back the light.
“Swimming?” Resting a hand on Casca’s shoulder, Farnese uses her as a counterbalance and places her other hand on her knee, leaning down to get a better look at the water. “Swimming is the ‘crazy thing’? I can swim any time I want to, y’know.”
Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes for a moment, Casca viciously fights her urge to falter or hesitate, trying to push every single negative scenario she’s considered out of her head. Everything rests on this one moment, and by God she’s determined to be stronger than her anxiety just this once. “Yeah, you can,” She murmurs, stepping back from Farnese and walking towards the water. “But,” She continues, her fingers sliding under the edge of her shirt. “You can’t just swim with me any time you want,” Pulling her shirt up and off, she tosses it to the side and tousels her hair, raising and eyebrow and tilting her head as she lets Farnese behold her in all her braless glory. “Now can you?”
FUCK. GAY. FUCK. GAY.
Her face immediately building a shade of dark crimson, Farnese stumbles over her words, stammering and helplessly waving her arms as her knees lock up and she sways like a reed in the wind. “I-eh-uh-I-I-ugmh?” Blinking, she knits up her eyebrows and gulps down her emotion (it’s a very big gulp), and Weakly smiles, the edges of her mouth moving like they’re attached to strings and a crazy puppeteer is controlling her every movement. “W-w…well, I, I uhm…I suppo…se…” Starting to trail off, she smacks her own cheeks and shapes up, mimicking Casca’s now very strained caricature of an expression. “No, I suppose I…can’t.”
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKSHITWHATTHEFUCKDIDIDOHOLYFUCKINGSHITOHMYGODJESUSWHAT
Suffering, Casca unbuttons her pants and steps out of them at world record speed and leaps into the pond from the tiny cliff overlooking it, poking the top of her head out of the water and staring at a frozen Farnese with a face so heated it could boil the water around her. “Well, uh, are you gonna come in or what?”
Freaking out for a second and letting out an eep of surprise, Farnese looks down into the water and processes that Casca must’ve moved while she was momentarily incapacitated and running on autopilot. “Y-yeAh I, am.” Stumbling around on the shore, she pulls at the fabric of her night dress and mutters expletives at it, turning around in a full circle before her trembling limbs are able to move out of it. Balling it up and throwing it to the side, she nods and moves to step in the pond, instead letting out a screech as she falls off the cliff and plummets three feet before splashing into the water.
Wading over to her, Casca reaches under and pulls Farnese up, shaking her head and smiling wide. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re a mess Farnese.”
As Casca holds her limp form up by the arm, Farnese coughs out water and looks up at her through stuck together bangs, her mouth hanging open as pond water drips out. “Uh. Huh.” She mumbles weakly, getting her legs underneath herself and gripping onto Casca’s shoulders for support.
Tilting her head, Casca does what she can to fix Farnese’s soaked hair, preening it and getting it back out of her eyes. Her heartbeat from before coming back full-force, she takes a lock of golden hair in her fingers and smooths it back behind Farnese’s ear, using the motion to get away with cupping her cheek in her hand. “So, you…” Not able to get out any more than that, Casca trails off and narrows her eyes, slowly travelling them downward and admiring the pictures the waning daylight paints on Farnese’s damp body. Bringing her eyes gradually back up, she’s startled by the saucers staring back at her.
Her eyes wide open and her lips parted, Farnese is fixed on Casca’s face, the thudding in her chest sharing a rhythm with the other girl’s. Leaning in, Farnese closes her eyes tight and brings her mouth within a hair’s breadth of Casca’s. “Just fucking kiss me you idiot.” She quickly murmurs with a tone of desperation against Casca’s lips, her arms pinned between them as Casca heeds the request and bundles her up in the world’s tightest hug, their lips coming together to form the world’s most passionate kiss.
Breaking apart for a moment, Farnese opens her eyes wide again, breathing in Casca’s air like it’s a drug. With the body tremors appropriate of an addiction she didn’t know (or at least wouldn’t admit to) having, she shakily unclasps her fancy lace bra and leaves it to float. Continuing to stare, trance-like, at Casca’s face she leaps out of the water, wrapping her legs around Casca’s body and pressing her hands firmly on the other girl’s face as she goes back in to break the world record for the world’s most passionate kiss.
Holding Farnese up by reflex, Casca takes everything she gives her and multiplies it back. Taking a moment to step back into her head while she lets her body do its thing, she mentally looks up and thanks whatever deities might be out there, desperately thanking them for letting something go terribly right for once in a very long time.
—
credit to @fullmetalnyuu
HOW do yall think griffguts first kiss went???
It was strange, Guts thought, to see Griffith look so vulnerable.
Slightly hunched, looking down at his feet, arm crossed in front of his stomach to grab uncertainly at the opposite elbow.
Casca Pre-battle Ficlet.
She could feel the sweat dripping down her neck under the occasional press of the warmed metal of her helmet.
It was hot, too hot. She suspected a growing fever as she slowly became hyper aware of the stumbling rhythm of her heart, bringing the pulsating waves of nervous heat with every beat.
She forced herself to keep riding. She’d already fallen behind the vanguard.
As she swept past her men, the sudden realisation of the cause of her distress dawned over her. She looked around herself at the thousands of comrades who’d never have to worry about such a thing before a decisive battle . She suddenly felt small, the chasm she’d been trying to close all these years opening all around her and stranding her in the middle of what she so desperately wanted to be home.
And it was home. It really was. That’s why she fought for it.
That and…
She looked to the front of their lines. Griffith was riding almost exactly in the middle of the line, a few steps ahead of the rest- Back straight and hair blowing loosely in the dusty wind , helmet still clutched against his side.
Casca wondered if she should sit back for this battle. She could already imagine the confused looks her men would exchange, could imagine it slowly giving way to a look of pitying understanding on some faces. Oh woman problems. It made a heavy feeling settle in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want that but… but this wasn’t just about her, she could be putting others in danger, the Hawks, Griffith’s dream– The heavy feeling turned to lead.
She could imagine that too. There wouldn’t be any admonishing, no stern words, no words at all, simply a look of disappointment or worse understanding. A glancing touch on her shoulder even as he turned to face the one standing next to him-
Casca almost laughed as reality mirrored the image in her mind. She was glad she stopped herself, the sound would have been slightly broken.
Guts had ridden up to Griffith’s side.
Even from the distance, she could sense the smile on Griffith’s face. His tensed shoulders had lowered slightly, body turning- almost leaning into the other man’s presence.
She looked down. Closed her eyes for a long moment.
When she opened them again, she was closer than she had been, they must have slowed down.
Guts was saying something, tapping on his helmet and then pointing at Griffith’s.
Griffith turned his head to answer him and Casca could see the smile now. She felt the corner of her own mouth lift slightly upward in painful mimicry.
She wished she were closer, wished she had stepped up earlier. She remembered wishing the same thing seven years ago when she had held him in the river, feeling the last tremble slowly leave his body as he forced himself to be still.
It still hurt, just in a different way. Maybe the way the pain from an open wound differs from the phantom pain of a lost limb you’ve started to learn to live without.
Griffith twisted his hair upward as he put on the helmet with the other hand, tucking in the mass of curls. A single lock escaped, continuing its lonely dance in the wind. He didn’t seem to notice.
It inexplicably aggravated her.
She spurred her horse forward, knowing in the back of her mind that once she reached her destination, she would have nothing to say. It was really such a silly thing. All of it.
Silly Girl! Where will you run to?
She shook her head, steeling herself. Guts reached out and tugged on the stray lock, not too gently. Griffith jerked slightly, batted his hand away and tucked the hair back inside.
Casca stopped.
She steered her horse sharply to the left, riding to the front of her party.
“FORMATIONS!”
There was a patter of hooves as the men fell back into line. The shout had caused Griffith and Guts to turn back to look at her. She looked resolutely ahead, not meeting their gaze.
Her battle was raging on.
Days of Past.She could feel the sweat dripping down her neck under the occasional press of the warmed metal of her helmet.
It was hot, too hot. She suspected a growing fever as she slowly became hyper aware of the stumbling rhythm of her heart, bringing the pulsating waves of nervous heat with every beat.
She forced herself to keep riding. She’d already fallen behind the vanguard.
As she swept past her men, the sudden realisation of the cause of her distress dawned over her. She looked around herself at the thousands of comrades who’d never have to worry about such a thing before a decisive battle . She suddenly felt small, the chasm she’d been trying to close all these years opening all around her and stranding her in the middle of what she so desperately wanted to be home.
And it was home. It really was. That’s why she fought for it.
That and…
She looked to the front of their lines. Griffith was riding almost exactly in the middle of the line, a few steps ahead of the rest- Back straight and hair blowing loosely in the dusty wind , helmet still clutched against his side.
Casca wondered if she should sit back for this battle. She could already imagine the confused looks her men would exchange, could imagine it slowly giving way to a look of pitying understanding on some faces. Oh woman problems. It made a heavy feeling settle in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want that but… but this wasn’t just about her, she could be putting others in danger, the Hawks, Griffith’s dream– The heavy feeling turned to lead.
She could imagine that too. There wouldn’t be any admonishing, no stern words, no words at all, simply a look of disappointment or worse understanding. A glancing touch on her shoulder even as he turned to face the one standing next to him-
Casca almost laughed as reality mirrored the image in her mind. She was glad she stopped herself, the sound would have been slightly broken.
Guts had ridden up to Griffith’s side.
Even from the distance, she could sense the smile on Griffith’s face. His tensed shoulders had lowered slightly, body turning- almost leaning into the other man’s presence.
She looked down. Closed her eyes for a long moment.
When she opened them again, she was closer than she had been, they must have slowed down.
Guts was saying something, tapping on his helmet and then pointing at Griffith’s.
Griffith turned his head to answer him and Casca could see the smile now. She felt the corner of her own mouth lift slightly upward in painful mimicry.
She wished she were closer, wished she had stepped up earlier. She remembered wishing the same thing seven years ago when she had held him in the river, feeling the last tremble slowly leave his body as he forced himself to be still.
It still hurt, just in a different way. Maybe the way the pain from an open wound differs from the phantom pain of a lost limb you’ve started to learn to live without.
Griffith twisted his hair upward as he put on the helmet with the other hand, tucking in the mass of curls. A single lock escaped, continuing its lonely dance in the wind. He didn’t seem to notice.
It inexplicably aggravated her.
She spurred her horse forward, knowing in the back of her mind that once she reached her destination, she would have nothing to say. It was really such a silly thing. All of it.
Silly Girl! Where will you run to?
She shook her head, steeling herself. Guts reached out and tugged on the stray lock, not too gently. Griffith jerked slightly, batted his hand away and tucked the hair back inside.
Casca stopped.
She steered her horse sharply to the left, riding to the front of her party.
“FORMATIONS!”
There was a patter of hooves as the men fell back into line. The shout had caused Griffith and Guts to turn back to look at her. She looked resolutely ahead, not meeting their gaze.
Her battle was raging on.
@bthump I don’t think this is exactly what you were looking for but hey.
holy shit i love this
I wrote Berserk fanfic (Badly)
inspired by au art by Gyodragon which sort of made the berserk universe the plot of a movie.
This is sort of weird and unedited but -here, have it regardless.
Oh right and I thought it would be funny if the actor’s personalities didn’t match the characters (atleast on the surface). So ooc warning I guess.
But their names are still the same.
Griffith sprawled across the bench, faux-leather covered
helmet in one hand, fanning himself with a clipboard as he waited for someone
to come and help him out of the sweaty, full-body costume he had had to wear
for the scene. He held out the hand holding the clipboard in front of him for a
moment, examining the detailed acrylic talons.The bench creaked a little as Guts came and sat down beside
him. He had already changed into sweatpants and slung a towel around his
shoulders, choosing to forgo a shirt as usual.Griffith sighed and scooted away a little.
Guts raised an eyebrow and proceeded to close the distance.
Griffith turned to him with an annoyed glare. “Don’t sit so
close to me! It’s fucking boiling in here.”Guts smirked but obediently moved away a little. “Maybe it’s
just me.”“Is that honestly the best you can do?”
“No. But I can demonstrate the best I can do if you give me a time and a place.”
“Honestly, after the scene we just shot could you please lay
off the innuendos for a little bit?”Guts inclined his head and leaned back away, looking at him
sideways with a slightly thoughtful expression. “Yeah. You seemed sort of
bothered today. Made more mistakes than usual too.”Griffith leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a
slight crease between his brows.He went over the words again in his head- than usual. “Wouldn’t anyone be? It’s really quite
disturbing. I honestly never paid attention to this part of the script when they signed me up
for this project.” He bit his lip before continuing, “This is the first time
I’ve shot something I don’t want my mother to see. She’s going to be so upset … didn’t want me to take up this show right from the
beginning.”Guts scoffed “See, I get it about the scene being dark and
all but I honestly don’t get the deal with your mother. If she doesn’t like it
she doesn’t like it. So what? You’re old enough to make your own decisions and
if she isn’t down with that, then that’s her problem.”Griffith didn’t respond, just shook his head weakly.
He raised himself up and looked up at Guts for a moment
before staring at his hands again. “No it’s not that. I understand what she
means. It’s just that this is so different from the sort of things I usually do
that she thinks the image change might affect my employability.”Guts raised an eyebrow. “No offence dude but the sort of
stuff you usually do is sort of crappy. When we started here, I was afraid of
touching you for fear of causing violins to go off in the background.”Griffith laughed a little. “ You don’t like violins?”
“Make my ears bleed. Screechy little things.”
Griffith grinned. “ You’ve never actually been to a proper
recital, have you?” He stretched a little, as much as the body suit would allow-
before leaning back on one hand. “The thing about all those roles is that they
were easy, pleasant. There was no need to exert yourself, to change the way you
think and walk. No fear of slipping too far into a character. So simple . So
chaste. Just gentle romance. Maybe a fight scene here and there. The fans were
wonderful too. Adoring and devoted.”Guts expression softened as he was speaking, eyes narrowing
with a brief hint of worry towards the end. “You hated every moment of it
didn’t you?”Griffith started and jerked himself upright, facing him with a look of
surprise. “What makes you think that?”Guts hesitated a little, biting the edge of his lip momentarily. “Just something in your face.” He
saw Griffith begin to open his mouth to respond and sped forward. “Actually there’s something
I’ve been meaning to ask you for sometime now- ”“Hey Guts! I thought I’d asked you to not take the
prosthetics off on your own.”They turned around to see Judeau from costuming saunter up
to the bench with his giant green work bag.Guts frowned a little at being inturrupted but grinned when
he saw Judeau. “Sorry they were itchy as hell, couldn’t help peeling them off.”“Finally.” Griffith groaned and stood up so that Judeau could begin to take the costume apart piece
by piece. By the time he was done Griffith was left wearing
the rather sweat soaked T-shirt and shorts he had been wearing under the costume all
along.“Should I remove the makeup for you too or will you do that
on your own?” Judeau asked pointing at Griffith’s eyes.“ It’s okay I can do it myself.” Griffith dipped his head, pulling
his hair back into a ponytail. He leaned over to look at Judeau’s watch. “Ah
shit. It’s already pretty late. I’ll
head back after this. See you guys tomorrow.”As he watched him go Guts wondered when he’d get a chance to
ask about the bruises he’d seen in the green room three days ago.
you're the only one 