Campfire - Jaskier/Suffering

SFW prompt fill for day 2 of the @witchersummercamp event!!! Many thanks to my lovely beta @hellinglasses and a big fuck-you to netflix

Rating: T

Words: 2848

Pairing: Pre-Relationship Jaskier/Geralt/Yennefer, Geralt/Yennefer, Jaskier & Ciri

Tags: Angst, Arguing, Self-Worth Issues, Emotional Trauma, Physical Trauma, Hunger, Protective!Jaskier, Toxic Relationships, Parenting, Geralt Always Says The Worst Possible Thing, Yennefer Is Defensive

Summary: Jaskier has a front-row seat to watch the two people he loves most destroy each other, and as much as he hates it, he can’t leave Ciri alone when Geralt and Yennefer are so destructive. He lights the fire himself and gives them a piece of all of our minds.

Read on AO3

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Sometimes, Jaskier misses his jail cell. The guards had been tasteless, tactless bastards, to be sure, but Martin and Polly had been good little gentlemen and even better companions to him, tiny and furry though they were. He hopes that they’re well. They listened to his songs and his words and his pain. With them, he could speak about his heartbreak until he made something useful out of it, or at least was able to put his own stupidity out into the air —how foolish he’d been to fall for two immortal beings who, even now, regard him as a plaything at best. Even now, he wishes to talk to the little mice. Tell them how terrible it is, to watch the people he loves love each other and hurt each other and ruin each other right in front of his eyes. Just as in the cell, it might give him a bit of peace while Geralt and Yennefer bicker.

“I lit an entire army aflame, witcher, for fucks’ sake, I can handle this.”

“Hm. And then right after that, you lost your magic. You’re still weak.”

“Gods, you’re insufferable. Don’t you hear yourself, you self-righteous prick?”

The witch and the witcher. As gorgeous as they are powerful, as lovely as they are dreadful, as pretty as they are petty. Jaskier admires them from his stump across the large clearing, memorizing the sharp planes of an especially frustrated Geralt’s face and the unfairly lustrous swish of Yennefer’s hair as she turns away from him, groaning with irritation. They’re awfully beautiful. He has and will again go on about it in the future when they decide to behave less fucking immaturely than the skinny, nervous seven year-old beside him. The past few weeks hadn’t exactly been quiet between the two, but such a squabble was inevitable. If they don’t argue over some trifling bullshit at least once every two weeks, he’s convinced they’ll explode. And probably take it out on him again. He sighs, turning to look at Ciri, who watches, just as fascinated. 

The poor thing.

Four parents dead, and all she has left are these two, who, while certainly good people at heart, have clearly never had decent examples themselves of how to parent or be parented. She has him too, he supposes. An uncle, of sorts, or perhaps a kindly older cousin, like the ones he’d grown up with in Lettenhove. Not an outsider or a stranger, but not quite a mother or a father either. He can’t replace the parents Destiny decided to gift her —he doesn’t fuck about with Her or Her wishes anymore, gods know he’s learned his lesson on that particular front— but at the very least he can show them how it’s done. Lowering his voice to a stage whisper, the kind Geralt would hear if he wasn’t so occupied with his grunting, he nudges the girl’s shoulder.

“And they call me dramatic.”

She huffs out a giggle, tiny but genuine.

“No, really. I swear on my lute, I punch one alderman, and suddenly I’m making a ‘fuss over nothing,’ and being called ‘bard’ again instead of my name!”

“But aren’t you a bard?”

“Yes, but that isn’t the point. The point is that even with all that power between them, a witcher and an ex-court sorceress, they can’t solve a minor disagreement! Either they skipped their etiquette lessons, or both Kaer Morhen and Aretuza are woefully inadequate educational institutions —I’ll have to teach you myself once we get to the Blue Mountains.”

Remembering his own classes on the subject, Jaskier can’t help but smile when Ciri groans. He’d spent more than his fair share of days hiding from his own private instructor, avoiding all talk of how to run a household, conduct business, and behave himself in public around people of every station. And all that as a two-penny count’s son. A princess, and more than that, the only princess of Cintra, would have had far more to learn, with far stricter teachers than old Garam. Even as young as she is, there’s no possible way she escaped it. Not with a pout like that.

He’ll teach her to hone that too. She already has the face for it, round and cute as a button, but the art of big, sad eyes is one he excels in, and he’d be remiss to not pass on his knowledge. Especially when, more likely than not, she’ll be aiming them at the very same target. Geralt, for all his many foolish pretenses at stoicism and apathy, already melts into a puddle around Ciri and would certainly fetch the moon for her if she asked it of him. Not that she would. She’s too good for that, always calm and placid, so much so that it worries Jaskier more than a little. The dear girl had lost everything in the space of a few weeks and she’d yet to even cry about it. Geralt and Yennefer might appreciate that, but Jaskier knows better. It’s unhealthy. For anyone, really, semi-immortal or not, but for a child without even eight winters to her name… he likes it even less.

“Well then. Tell me, Fiona, which lessons did you enjoy in Cintra?”

Immediately, her eyes lit up, pale eyebrows shooting up her forehead. They’ll have to dye them soon, but not yet. Let the girl get used to her new name, start processing all that has shifted in her life before changing her appearance.

“The sword lessons!! Grandmother and Grampa Eist gave me a big, big sword for my last nameday!! It’s only wood, but it’s tough, and I already learned the first forms.”

“Knowing the Queen and King, I believe it. They were some of the finest warriors alive.”

“Yeah! Grandmother was too busy to teach me herself, but Grampa’s really good too! His sword is really heavy though.”

“Yeah? What other things did they teach you?”

She’s happy to ramble on about it, and Jaskier lets her, interjecting with careful hums and nods and chuckles and questions where appropriate. Talking puts some life in her sallow cheeks, when she goes on about learning to read at Moussack’s knee until she graduated to asking him to pull the heavy tomes down from the palace library for her. He encourages it with appropriate nods and noises, drifting his senses back to the pair behind him. And, oh, what a blessed fucking surprise!

“I can light a simple fucking campfire! Just because you finally decided to take Ciri as your daughter doesn’t mean you have to mother-hen all of us to death, Geralt!”

“I’m not mother-henning, just let me handle it! Why does this even matter to you?”

They’ve graduated from an argument to a unnecessary, vicious row. 

“It doesn’t!”

“Like fuck it doesn’t! One Igni and the problem’s solved, but here you are, dragging it like a corpse!”

“Oh, I’m the one dragging this out? You kicked your feet for so long avoiding your Child Surprise that I’m hardly shocked Destiny killed her whole family —it was the only way to make you take responsibility!”

He focuses back on Ciri, who, thank the gods, is still talking about her life in Cintra. The last thing she needs to hear is her new mother being cruel or that her father hadn’t exactly wanted her in his life, albeit for his own reasons, right and wrong. 

“Sometimes I could sneak out to play in the square, but Ser Danek would always drag me back to the castle before I was done. I miss him.”

“I know, dear heart. But it’s always good to have things you miss. It means you have things to love. What else do you miss?”

“Oh! I miss Grandmother and Grampa. And Moussack and Ser Lazlo and Marina and all the horses! Grampa never let me go see them alone, but they’re so big! And I miss the food…… I don’t like being hungry.”

As if on cue, her stomach rumbles. A sad, tiny little sound, and all Ciri does for it is tucking a skinny arm over her belly, shushing the noise with a finger pressed to her lips. And Jaskier’s heart breaks. Geralt and Yennefer keep screaming in the background of his mind, over petty shit, all while their little girl hasn’t eaten since the gods know when. Immortals. They forget about lowly humans and their needs, always either pushing them past the limit or dropping them like deadweight, but Jaskier won’t let them do either, not with him and not with her. So, he does what he does best. He talks. Asks Ciri more questions, takes over the conversation when their companions get too loud, and keeps her as distracted as he can while he reaches for his own flint and steel. 

Quickly, he arranges the wood and sends Ciri for Geralt’s saddlebags. There won’t be much, mushrooms and dried meat, but he has his spices and there was a patch of wild onion less than a minute’s walk back. Three strikes light the tinder, and by the time Jaskier has a pot perched on top of a makeshift spit, the damned campfire burns as brightly as any other he’s made for himself in Geralt’s absences. Ciri returns, trotting back with a skip in her step, promised pack in hand. He pours in his waterskin, emptying it, and hands Ciri a small scarf.

“Alright, dear. We’ll eat soon, and though I can’t promise it’ll be anywhere near as good as Cintra’s best, I’ve made enough trail stews that you should be able to at least get it down. But I need you to do one last thing for me.”

Ciri nods solemnly.

“Good girl. Just outside this clearing, you see that big tree over there?” He points to the one in question, with the creeping vine crawling over it. “About five trees in that direction, you see some hollow green shoots on the ground. Those are wild onions, and you have to pick them —but don’t eat them. Bring them back so I can look them over.”

“Okay.”

Her eyes slide over to Geralt and Yennefer, still screaming at each other, then back to him. Clever girl. Of course she’d heard them, and figured out what he’s trying to do by sending her away into the woods —another thing to scold the pair for. He nods at her, pressing the scarf further into her little hands.

“Go. There’s nothing in the woods that can harm you, not with those two here, no matter how foolish they’re being now.”

Blessedly, she accepts it, leaving Jaskier to deal with the couple of the hour. Yennefer’s skirt flares out just as her hair does, but it’s less pretty, with a hungry girl in the woods. Geralt’s jaw tightens, and he can’t find the line of it as handsome, not when Ciri just shushed her own rumbling stomach like the noise would get her punished. Stalking across the clearing should alert them, or at least make them stop for long enough to look his way, but instead they escalate in their usual way, stepping closer until the spittle flying from their mouths hits the other’s cheek. He thinks of the mountain. He thinks of the mountain and how they ruined each other so fucking quickly, dissolving their relationship like it meant nothing at all, and throwing the remains at his chest. Two people this fucking old ought to know better. But instead, they just make the same mistakes for longer.

By the sound of it, the water hasn’t boiled yet, but he has. 

This time, when he puts himself in between them, he reaches out only with his hands —already burnt and broken as they are, easy enough to sacrifice— and not his heart. He knows better now. Never again will he stand outside a shattered window and struggle not to weep. He won’t be sent away down a mountain, alone in the cold with every rock digging into his feet through his thin soles along the way. Before either of them can stop him, he puts one arm across Geralt’s chest and a hand at Yennefer’s shoulder. 

“Shut the fuck up. Both of you.”

For about a second, it occurs to him that he ought to be more cautious, saying that to a powerful sorceress and a witcher, both of whom have cast him aside before. He tells the thought to fuck off and turns to level a glare at Geralt, who flinches.

“You. All those heightened senses, and yet you can’t figure out that the witch here is trying to heal herself and prove her worth, after, as you put it so delicately, losing her magic. She lives and dies on Chaos. But you don’t even try to understand her pain. And despite how fucking poorly it’s gone for you in the past, in case you don’t remember your idiocy in Rinde, you just keep making decisions for her safety, disregarding her wishes entirely. I don’t care about your intentions, and neither does she.”

Yennefer huffs, turning her face away but not breaking out of his hold. 

“And you. Yes, Geralt has been supremely irresponsible about Ciri. But if that was your issue right now, you would have had the sense to not scream it at him right in front of her. Do you think she needs to hear that? So she can feel unwanted and unloved? But instead of facing the actual issue of your power being gone, you deflect away from your own weakness, treating whoever you hurt in the process as collateral damage for your own pride.”

He steps aside, gesturing towards the fire he’d lit all on his own, no magic or cantrips required. The whole fucking situation is proof that sometimes all you need a simple person and their pracice, tools, and love.

“There’s your fucking fire, so you can stop using it to cover your own asses. Now, your little daughter is hungry, and she’ll be back any minute. Geralt, go find a rabbit to feed her. Yennefer, magic her up a bowl and a spoon if you have the strength.”

Amazingly, then don’t protest. Yennefer scoffs at him and Geralt swears under his breath, but they separate, off to their assigned tasks. Excellent timing, when Ciri comes running back with both little hands full of onions for him to clean so they can make a proper soup out of it all. Yennefer produces three bowls and three spoons, since only Geralt has his own, and though it takes her longer than it should, it lines up well with Geralt’s return, skinning a fat hare as he walks over. Jaskier takes the carcass, butchering and cleaning out the insides as fast as he dares, with his shaking hands. Within the hour, Ciri’s eating like she hasn’t been fed in days, and Jaskier relaxes, looking to the other side of the fire.

The witch and the witcher. What fucking fools, both of them, sat on opposite ends of a log, eating silently. Jaskier watches them again, how they chew their food just a little too long, shrink into themselves in between bites just to puff back up before retreating again. In between them, he can see where their boots still touch. But he’s fine with that. Time and heartache have taught him wisdom, but more importantly, they taught him patience. He waits until Ciri hands him her bowl, asking him to tuck her in, and she sleeps peacefully in his bedroll with his red coat pulled up to her chin, dwarfing her little body. He waits some more, watching the fire dwindle into embers, for Yennefer to speak.

“Jaskier. We’re… we’re sorry.”

“You can apologize to her tomorrow.”

“Not the point, bard,” Geralt says, lip twitching downwards and knee pressing closer to Yennefer’s thigh, “You shouldn’t be the one looking after her.”

“Someone has to.”

It hurts, even though he’s sure Geralt doesn’t even realize what he’s said. But he keeps his eyes on the dying flames, trying not to see Yennefer return the witcher’s touch, shuffling over on the small log. Brown wood, gray ash, yellow fire. All are safer to look at than Yennefer’s black hair next to Geralt’s white, or the way their hands press against each other, warm brown and ghostly pale. Geralt tries again.

“You’re good at it. Better than either of us, with children, and Ciri needs your help.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

He forces enough levity into his voice to make it convincing, trailing it into a yawn. Ciri needs his help. That’s not what Geralt had said, when he’d swept him up and away from the jail cell with his sad yellow eyes and soft voice, but it had always been like him to deny any mention of dependency after the fact, no matter how much proof existed of it. Beside him, the witch nods, and they’re off to their own pushed-together bedrolls, leaving Jaskier to doze with his head pillowed on his pack, letting the embers soothe him to sleep.

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[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

Sasuke and Naruto start their friendship a little differently in my KakaObiRin where New Naruto AU where Obito and Rin both survive the war. After Minato and Kushinas death in the nine tails attack (Madara has someone else attack the village instead of Obito) 14 year old Rin, Obito and Kakashi become secret surrogate big siblings to Naruto. Kakashi’s chapter here, Rin’s here, Obito’s here. Chronologically this is before the chapter with Obito.

Any interactions Sasuke has had with Naruto were always nothing short of disastrous and Sasuke refused to take any blame for it. Ever since they started school Naruto insisted on being a thorn in his side from day one. The thing is, Sasuke himself wasn't very good at making friends in the first place. He was painfully introverted which made any interaction with the boys in his class awkward at best and the love-struck attention he got from the girls just made him roll his eyes constantly. Then there was Naruto, who for some reason, saw every move he made as some kind of personal affront and challenge and he showed his zealous zeal of that stance persistently and loudly.

Not that it was cause of much distraction for him when it came to his education at the academy since the curriculum was painfully amateur compared to what he’d already been taught by his father and brother. While other kids still stumbled over learning how to hold a kunai properly, Sasuke was already throwing bullseyes at the practice targets with ease. While his classmates were still struggling to learn how to throw a kick, he was already flipping them over his shoulder 3 moves in, his record being when he ended a spar with a kid from the Inuzuku clan in less than a minute. The blondes skills were admittedly better than some of their classmates. He threw the kunais with a practiced precision and while his taijutsu was messy, he had the basics down and frankly was good at reacting unpredictably. He had clearly been trained, most likely by someone which was strange because Sasuke had never seen him with any other adult. Still he was not much of a challenge for Sasuke. But what made Naruto different from the rest was how after every fight he’d aggressively make promises about beating the Uchiha in their next one. The idiot never knew when to give up and shut up. To an incredibly irritating degree.

So it wasn't surprising when one day underneath the heat of the summer sun, their sparring match for the day turned into an outright brawl when Naruto pounced on him with a loud yell and Sasuke was to surprised by it to deflect. They’d rolled on the ground in a chaotic scuffle. Technique forgotten as they were reduced to a ball off flaying limbs and violent screaming. It had taken two genin to pull them apart and by the end of it Sasuke had a split lip and Naruto was sporting what looked like a shiner that was going to purple by the end of the day. Iruka sensei's attempt at making them form the unity sign had almost devolved into another fight before he finally pulled Naruto back to the academy building, a scolding audible as they walked though Sasuke also heard mentions of ice. Sasuke was furious for the rest of the day. His mother had been concerned at the sight of him. Covered in dirt, scuffed and his already messy hair haphazardly stuck out all over the place. Sasuke grumbled and muttered under his voice and ate his dinner with an agitated gusto that made even Itachi raise a curious eyebrow. He was tight lipped over the whole debacle but that night he found himself restlessly rolling around in his futon, unable to sleep. So much so that his movements emitted an annoyed whine from Itachi's own futon a few feet besides his But by the time the moon had reached a high enough peak to spill its shine through their bedroom window, the simmering discontent that had been bubbling inside him melted away into something unfamiliar. Something that sent his skin tingling and his fingers fidgeting. Eyes wide and ears sharp to the sound of crickets from the garden and the creak and groans of their ancestral home. He found himself staring into space and after some time, everything else around him turned into white noise and the only thing he found occupied his mind was the memory of the exhilaration that had coursed through him during the fight where nothing else mattered except him and Naruto and the intensity of the moment. Not his fathers approval, not his brothers attention. Simply himself stripped to the barest essential just as who he was. Just Sasuke. So the next day he lingered by the entrance off the academy after class  ended. He waited for all the other children to vacate the building with their parents till there was no one to see him warily walk towards the large oak across the yard where he usually spotted the blonde boy and sure enough there he was. Sitting on the lone swing, sandals barely touching the ground with only the toe of them scraped against the dirt and kicking weakly at any pebbles within reach. He seemed so lost in his thoughts that Sasuke was barely a few feet away from the swing before his presence managed to snare Naruto’s awareness. “What do you want, teme?”, Naruto asked with a furrow between his eyebrows. But his tone was lackluster compared to the usual fire behind them. Sasuke stuffed his hands in his pockets in an attempt to look as nonchalant as possible. But for some reason he struggled to meet Narutos eyes. “I want a rematch” “I can’t” The answer caught Sasuke by surprise and he finally raised his eyes to properly meet Naruto's cerulean blue ones that peered below the downturn of his eyebrows “Why not?” “It’s none of your business, bastard”, Naruto spat out. Which only served to make Sasuke raise an eyebrow. “So you’re a coward as well as an idiot?”, Sasuke snapped back. “Look who you’re calling a coward, asshole!”, Naruto leaped off the swing and reached to grasp the scuff off Sasuke's raised collar. For half a second Sasuke thought that he would get what he wanted but the irritation in Narutos shoulders melted away almost as fast as it came. He let Sasuke's shirt go and stepped back to dump himself onto the swing. “Iruka Sensei said I can’t, ok! I don’t want to…..” …..disappoint him' were the words left unsaid which caught Sasuke in honest surprise. It never occurred to him that the loud boisterous prankster gave an ounce of thought to anyone’s opinion off him. Particularly an adult. A part of Sasuke seemed to realize that a curtain was being drawn back for him to view something many were not privy to see and the stiffness in his own stance softened while his frustration at Naruto's refusal melted away. He heard an echo of himself in Naruto's words. His thoughts flying to memories of how his own heart swelled whenever he managed to do something that pleased his father and the desire to do nothing that would bring about the opposite reaction. “Fine. Race me then” Naruto perked up ever so slightly at the suggestion. “Where?” “The park-“ “No” “Why?!” “It’s Friday” “So?” Naruto had the audacity to roll his eyes at him, the idiot. “So all the kids and their parents will be there” Sasuke was getting really irritated at Narutos inability to just get to the point. Maybe he noticed the way Sasuke's impatience was teetering on an edge, so with a defeated sigh he continued his explanation. “The adults don’t like me around the other kids. They always get mad if I show up. They’ll start yelling and I just don’t like it, ok” Whatever aggravation that had been itching sharp words on Sasuke's tongue stopped short. He didn’t usually hang around at the park often since he didn’t have a lot of friends to play with anyway. So he couldn’t verify what Naruto was telling him. But he’d have to be blind to say he didn’t see the contempt dripping from the adults every time they spotted the blonde in public. Sasuke never understood why but also never gave it much thought but the dejected way Naruto was drooping on the swing had guilt niggling his insides.

He didn't understand why. “Fine. Follow me” Naruto starts but Sasuke was already walking in the direction of the Uchiha compound. When he didn’t hear footsteps following his, he turned around to face the other boy who was looking at him with a look off confusion that Sasuke couldn’t help find exasperating. “Are you coming or not?” Sasukes question seemed to break Naruto out off whatever stupor he’d sunken into and for the second time he leaped off the swing and bounded after the Uchiha. Probably hoping his excitement wasn’t obvious. Sasuke led Naruto through winding alleys that became less and less familiar until they reached the forest right at the north edge of the village and while Naruto had never been in this part off the village, he knew enough to know that they had just entered the designated Uchiha compound The only thing that held back his nerves at being somewhere so unfamiliar was the fact that the path Sasuke used was completely deserted and the Uchiha obviously did it intentionally. They walked through the forest for maybe another five minutes before they reached a fairly large clearing with wooden practice dummies and targets scattered high above them in the trees. Sasuke gave Naruto a few seconds to roam his eyes around the area before he called his attention to a tree on the other side of the clearing with yellow flowers. “First one to complete 2 laps from there and back wins” Naruto gave him a mischievous grin, “Easy” Sasuke rolled his eyes but readied his stance to sprint into a run. “Ready. Set....” Naruto didn’t wait for the ‘go’, Sasukes eyes were wide as he froze for a second and stared at the blur off yellow shooting forward before he himself was ready. His shock finally a few seconds later broken by a loud cackle. “Usuratonkachi!!!”, he called out furiously before firing forward himself but it was too late. The head start gave Naruto a win by a mere few seconds. “You cheated!” “You never said we had to run at ‘go’” “You’re just scared I’ll beat you!” “As if. Fine, let’s go again. I’ll beat you fair and square!” Naruto does not in fact beat Sasuke fair and square. At least not for the next two races. But by the third they reached a tie and by the fourth Naruto finally won again. It was made clear as they laid panting and gasping for air on the hard ground that while Sasuke was much faster, Naruto had the advantage off higher stamina and could maintain his speed for much longer without slowing down. Not that either of them had enough breath to even think about such things. But stubbornness is a family trait and 10 minutes later Sasuke was already heaving himself to his feet. Albeit trying to ignore the pin-pricking of a million needles every time he moved a muscle Both of them were too exhausted but Sasuke was absolutely not ready to admit defeat. He reached his hand into the pouch on the belt around his waist to pull out a kunai. “Whoever gets 5 bullseyes first wins” He expected the loud mouth blonde to start bragging about how he was definitely better but instead he was met with silence. He turned away from the targets and towards the other boy to see him eying Sasuke's kunai as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t have any”, he mumbled under his breath, voice so low that it was barely audible. Sasuke doesn’t know why he hadn’t expected it. Most kids their age didn’t have their own kunai. Other then the fact that most adults didn’t trust 5 year olds with any, kunais costed a pretty penny and most wouldn’t spend any money on them if they could help it. It helped that the village actually did provide kunais freely for genin and chunin after they graduated or were promoted. Though a limited amount. 3 kunais a months for genin and 5 kunai every month for chunin and it was up to the individual themselves to make do with what they had. It was a finite resource. Raw metal didn’t grow on trees after all. Sasuke himself had actually received his kunais as a gift on his fifth birthday from Itachi, unbeknownst to their parents. His reasoning being that Sasuke was old enough and responsible enough to have a few so he could train on his own since he himself and Fugaku were always busy. Naruto continued to fidget restlessly in front off him until Sasuke pulled out the only one other kunai he had and held it out to him. “You can have this one” “Really?” “Just give it back to me after I win” “You mean after I win” “As if. Remember, who gets 5 bullseyes first wins and no cheating” Out off 5 shots Sasuke would get the target right in the middle at least 3 times and Naruto would hit 2 at most. “Don’t move your wrist too much” Naruto froze where he was getting ready to launch his kunai in their fourth round, “What?” For maybe the hundredth time that day, Sasuke rolled his eyes at the other boy. “Usuratonkachi, you flick your wrist too hard and it puts your aim off. That’s why you keep missing” “Don’t call me that bastard” “Stop missing the target, dobe” Naruto petulantly stuck his tongue out but dutifully turned back towards the target he was aiming for and corrected the position of his hand. It wasn’t perfect, but the advice seemed to be helpful when the kunai flew through the air and almost hit the board right on target. Naruto gave an excited cheer and whilst Sasuke crossed his arms at the 'childish' behavior, he felt something warm bloom pleasantly inside him and he suddenly found it difficult a stifle a grin. Trying to distract himself, he turned his eyes to the sky and was surprised to find that the sun had already begun to set. He jumped onto a tree branch to retrieve his kunai, “I have to get home”, he explained. His parents wouldn’t really scold him for coming home late but they’d be curious and Sasuke didn’t want to lie about where he’d been all day since he didn’t know how his parents would react if they knew who he’d spent the afternoon with. “Oh”, disappointment casted a shroud over Narutos face but he nodded in understanding, “Yeah ok…… ummmm”, he lifted his hand to scratch the back of his neck again in what Sasuke realized was a nervous gesture. “I had fun. Thanks”, Naruto said before walking back towards the path where they came from earlier. Sasuke was caught off guard by Narutos words. So much so that Naruto had almost disappeared behind the trees before Sasuke called out to him. “Did you memorize the way back here?” “I think so” “Meet me back here tomorrow then. You obviously need practice and I can’t just let you keep screwing up” “Bastard. Fine. But only cause you’ll probably sulk if I don’t come cause no one else will play with you” “Look who’s talking, idiot” Sasuke smirked in triumph when he saw the other boy scrunched up his nose and let out a disgruntled huff. “Just get ready! I’ll beat you for sure tomorrow! Believe it!” Sasuke didn’t get a chance to reply, left mouth hanging open as he stared at the disappearing form of the other boy as he sprinted hurriedly through the trees He stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned the opposite direction and made his way home. If he’s smiled the whole way thinking about about tomorrow, no one needed to know.

He slept peacefully that night.

~ Crab Vessel with Double Spout.

Place of origin: Colombia, Calima Region

Period: Ilama Period

Date: 1500 B.C.-A.D. 100

Medium: Ceramics

ROMANCE DAWN TRIO

there was only one bed

 ‎จับลูกเจี๊ยบใส่สูท 🐥 👔 translation for the last pic 🐥 meet his future self

🐍: listen to me boy… (insert future events) whisper whisper whisper 🐥: ohh really??? 🐍: nod

aziraphale : what did you say to him..? 🐍: : nothing important , he'll forget about it soon

a few shadow gira sketches

what if i decided i'm straight up not posting any new art publicly until that family's GFM in my pinned is at least Halfway to its goal

(even half my followers donating 5 bucks each would do that btw)

until death do us part?? WRONG death bringth together. based off this ask i got

they are so dumb i love them

workarounds to having a vampire as your partner in crime

9 Jan 24

I'm watching a video essay about a game ive been interested in playing. The creator of the video, who has crossdressed multiple times, makes a "women arent funny" joke, and i suddenly realize ive never witnessed him acknowledge a woman in an uplifting way before.

I'm on a dating app for lgbt+ people. I've stated multiple times on my profile that i would rather lose an arm than recieve nudes without consent. I will be sent five dick pics for every 2 people i talk to that night.

I'm talking with my dad, who informs me he's been trying his best to learn about trans issues. He says the same things steven crowder brings up when trying to ridicule trans people. I gently but firmly correct my father and get told that ive been fed propaganda.

I'm on instagram, under the comments of a post ridiculing someone for being a misogynyst. Someone's left a comment saying "it must be hard being a woman on the internet" and i respond "it is." I will have every aspect of my appearance scrutinized as a reminder that no matter how well i pass, it will never be enough for someone with bad intentions.

I'm back on that dating app for lgbt+ people. I'm messaged by an attractive looking person, but i can see their partner prominently displayed in all but their main photo, oftentimes striking what im sure they thought was a very intimidating pose. Their bio says "looking for a third for our anniversary." I know that even if I did feel up to it, the gruff partner wouldnt approve of me because i don't pass.

I'm at a job interview for a clothing store. I tell the gracefully-dressed woman interviewing me that ever since i began my transition, i've discovered an interest in fashion, and that this job would allow me to dip my toes into the industry in a safe way. I'm told that i've reduced womanhood to a stereotype, and i can tell by her tone that i lost any chance at the job the minute she realized i was trans.

I'm at the same hospital i got facial feminization surgery in, trying to figure out what's wrong with my bowels. When the person behind the desk gives me a wristband with my patient info on it, i notice a single, lonely, letter M. I ask a nurse in private why it would say that despite me having changed it nearly a year prior. They say they have no clue, and bring in paperwork for me to fill out and have it re-changed again.

I'm living with my mom at the time. I'm new to transitioning, and decide to try my hand at voice training. It feels a bit off, but otherwise im feeling neutral toward the whole thing. I try speaking in this new voice to my mom and she laughs. Now, when people ask if i intend to voice train, i find speaking at all difficult for minutes after.

I didnt have some sort of grand message to convey by this. I just had a thought and then that thought spiralled into whatever the hell this became. Some, okay most, might call it complaining; they are right to do so.

Helen of Troy (detail) c. 1867. by Frederick Sandys

raiding the fridge AGAIN

I’ve been making gay knights (and ladies) collages on my phone at work

(Part two)

newbornDad! Simon Riley

Simon! Who insists on carrying the baby carrier through the threshold of the house when you get home from the hospital

Simon! who spent nine months training Riley to be gentle with the baby

Simon! Who carries the baby around showing them the house with little whispers, 'annnn this is your brothers room, he's had your grandads right now but don't worry sweetpea, you'll meet him soon'

Simon! Who strongly believes the baby needs skin to skin, so...are you complaining about him walking around shirtless with a baby held to chest, not at all

Simon! Who is so worried when Ollie holds the baby for the first time because yeah Ollie is six years old at that point but anxiety??

Simon! Who hates that he has to go on a mission, even if for two weeks because they are sooo so vital and he doesn't want to leave you alone and-

Simon! Who tells Oliver to take care of his little sibling and to look after you

Simon! Who hates his job sometimes