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surftrips · 3 months

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SHAPESHIFT | CLARISSE LA RUE

pairing: clarisse la rue x female!reader

summary: clarisse wonders if you know just how much she likes you.

word count: 2.1k

author's note: this is the first part of a two part series i'm writing based on jenna doe's songs: shapeshift + pink slips. this is from clarisse's pov and the second one is from readers' :) lmk if you want to be tagged in part 2 <3

i. i think you have a type, and it's not me

Clarisse has been watching you from the second you arrived at camp. Since you spent every day doing more or less the same thing, she was able to pick up on your routine pretty fast. Two sugars in your coffee every morning. A walk around the lake in the afternoon. Archery practice before the sunset.

She felt weird going to practices at the same time as you, but she couldn’t help herself. Whenever she got a chance to sneak away from her siblings in the Ares cabin, she always found herself back in your presence. However, the thought to approach you like a normal person had never crossed her mind. Clarisse is the kind of person that needs to be in control, and talking to you one-on-one would mean letting her inhibitions take over, so she always made sure to keep her distance.

Once or twice, Clarisse had seen you on dates with another camper. At first, she thought you were just having a picnic with the girl from Aphrodite, until the two of you began holding hands. The next day, Clarisse saw you in the other girl’s sweater, which made her so sick she avoided you for an entire week.

The Aphrodite girl (her name, Clarisse later found out, was Stacy) began showing up with you more often. Stacy wore bows in her hair and pearl necklaces, whereas Clarisse’s mascara was always smudged and accessories that didn’t double as weapons felt wrong on her. For the first time, Clarisse wondered why she couldn’t just be like all the other girls. Or at least, a girl you would pay attention to.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying. Clarisse tried to make her penchant for you as obvious as possible, while actively hiding it from the rest of camp. This proved to be difficult because at the same time, she also didn’t want to get too close to you because, well— what would she even say to you?

Her flirting consisted of winking at you during Capture the Flag or from across the dining hall. She had an ongoing list of nicknames of what to call you when no one else was around, but those moments were few and far between. Once, she even went as far as brushing away a stray piece of hair that had fallen on your face. There seemed to be nothing left for her to do except put bows in her hair or maybe paint her nails, and the thought of doing either of those things made her almost as sick as seeing you and Stacy together.

Between her and the Aphrodite girl, she knew which girl you would choose. Had chosen.

ii. mold me how you want me to be

Still, that was not going to stop Clarisse. She had never backed down from a fight before, and this was no different. Even if Stacy didn’t know it, she had become Clarisse’s number one enemy, even more so than that Percy Jackson kid that had recently shown up at camp. It just wasn’t fair that she had been watching you for so long and here comes Aphrodite’s daughter out of nowhere to sweep you off your feet.

Since Clarisse knew your routine by heart, she devised a plan to get you alone. She decided that she would finally make a move, and then you could pick for yourself who you wanted to be with. Easy enough, right?

At night, Clarisse lay awake in bed thinking about you, Stacy, then you and Stacy together. Though she didn’t want to go there, her brain wondered what the two of you were doing at that very moment. Her thoughts ranged from tame, to slightly more unhinged. Like, were you lying underneath the stars on your picnic blanket? Or was Stacy doing your makeup as she straddled your lap?

Clarisse didn’t pray often, but ever since she met you, she had taken to silently wishing you would acknowledge her. Each time she saw you with your arms wrapped around Stacy, she yearned to know what that would feel like. Not that she thought you would come near her with a ten-foot pole. Stacy is sweet, like bubblegum or strawberries from the fields, and Clarisse is the opposite. If you tasted her, she might make your gums bleed.

Before you, she was never the kind of girl to care about her appearance. Gods, she was the daughter of Ares, they weren’t known for their beauty but their strength and power and when it came to those categories, Clarisse knew that she had Stacy beat.

And yet, Clarisse would change just about anything about herself if it would make you like her more. In your hands, she would turn into putty, moldable clay to take the shape of your ideal lover. Hell, she would change her name if she thought you didn’t like the sound of it.

iii. kill anyone if you ask me to

A few weeks later, the Ares cabin and yours happened to be on the same team for Capture the Flag. It was the closest Clarisse had been to you ever since you began dating Stacy. The proximity to you was killing her, but she had to stay focused—on winning the game and your heart.

Putting aside her wandering thoughts, Clarisse barked out instructions to the campers. When she got to your cabin, she assigned you and your half-siblings to be the second line of defense for the flag. Clarisse figured this way, she could keep you out of harm’s way. Also, this was her one chance to talk to you without Stacy hanging off your body and she wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass.

After the first conch blew, Clarisse went on high-alert mode. Her team had lost the last game to Luke and Annabeth’s team, but she was not going to accept defeat this time. Her eyes darted back and forth between blind spots in the forest and you and the flag.

As she absent-mindedly waved her new spear around, Clarisse heard soft footsteps behind her. She whipped her head around with her weapon aimed in the air, preparing to fight whoever had approached her.

“Shit, Y/N, you scared me.” It was just you. Wait– it was you.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to,” you responded, your hands in front of you.

Clarisse almost couldn’t believe her eyes. Did someone poison her earlier and she was hallucinating right now? Okay, keep it cool.

“Is something wrong?” Clarisse managed to ask after composing herself, realizing that you had moved away from your post.

“Uh, no. I- um… heard about what happened to your spear last week, and I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” you smiled nervously.

“Why?”

“Why…. am I sorry?”

Clarisse wanted to slap her hand across her forehead. Why did she say that? She meant to ask why are you talking to me right now? What did I do to deserve this? But she didn’t know how to word that in a way that wouldn't make you think she was crazy.

When she didn’t respond, you began backing away. “Look, I’m sorry if this is a sensitive topic. I just felt bad, is all.”

“No!” Clarisse began panicking. “I didn’t mean it like that- just, why are you talking to me now? We’ve never had a real conversation before.”

“Does it matter?” She expected you to be confused, but the look at your face seemed more amused than anything.

“No, I guess not,” Clarisse couldn’t help but smile. Gods, why was she so awkward? Anyone else, she would’ve been perfectly fine, but in the last few minutes, her mouth had gone dry and her legs felt as though they would give out at any second.

“Great,” you beamed in return. Clarisse’s eyes catch yours and the two of you stare at each other in content for a minute. Or at least, you are. Clarisse is convinced an Aphrodite kid has changed her pupils to hearts. “I haven’t seen you around lately,” you broke the silence.

“What do you mean? I’m always around,” Clarisse stammered for an excuse.

“Well, sure. It’s a small camp.” You seemed to be enjoying seeing Clarisse fumble for words. “But I used to see you all the time. At breakfast and archery.”

Clarisse ignored the implications of your comment. “Oh, I guess we just started going at different times then. You know you’re always with Stacy now—”

At the mention of your girlfriend’s name, your face contorted into something strange and unfamiliar to Clarisse. But before she could figure it out, a noise behind you caused the two of you to turn around abruptly.

“Y/N, watch out!” Clarisse shouted at you, but it was too late. Someone had dragged you backwards, knocking your weapon out of your hand. You struggled to free yourself, but whoever was holding you had revealed a dagger and you didn’t want to risk accidentally cutting yourself.

“If you know what’s best for yourself, let her go.” Clarisse breathed furiously, pausing between the last three words in her sentence. You couldn’t see who was restraining you, but you could feel their heart rate quicken at the sight of Clarisse’s spear getting dangerously close.

“And what if I don’t?” they responded. You knew that they were just putting on a front, you could feel their chest heaving up and down on your back. Clarisse seemed to know this too, she’s always been able to sense fear in people— mostly because she is the one that invokes it.

“I don’t think you want to find out,” she grinned, a wicked smile on her face. The next second, her spear had jabbed into the camper’s side, causing them to let go of their hold on you. You dropped to the ground.

“Shit!” the camper swore, rubbing their ribcage. “You’re not supposed to actually hurt me!” You could see their face now, one of Hermes' kids you’ve seen hanging around Luke.

“Now, what’s the fun in that?” Clarisse laughed. “Besides, the spearhead is blunt. You’ll be fine, drama queen.”

The kid scrambled away, leaving behind the dagger they had previously threatened you with. Clarisse ran over, instinctively putting her hands on your face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You began to stand up, but Clarisse pushed you back down.

“Clar, come on, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Let me just get a look at you,” she insisted, ignoring the way your nickname for her made something in her stomach flip over. You relented, knowing it was useless to argue with her. You allow her to scan your body for any signs of harm. Clarisse took her time, unsure of when the next time she would be this close to you again. Most of your body was covered by your armor or clothes, so her eyes drifted toward your exposed arms and the area where the kid had touched you.

Hesitantly, she reached for the side of your stomach. “Are you sore? Did they leave a mark?”

“No, I don’t think so,” you shook your head, lifting up the hem of your shirt to see. You heard Clarisse’s breath hitch. “What? What’s wrong?” You were fully sat up now.

“N-nothing!” Color rushed into Clarisse’s cheeks, causing her to turn her head away suddenly.

You giggled, her reaction not going unnoticed. “Thanks for saving me, tough girl.”

“Of course.” Clarisse pulled you up on your feet. “Anything for you, pretty girl.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could register it. The two of you stared at each other again, it seemed as though eye contact was your main form of communication at the moment. And right now, Clarisse’s eyes were sparkling with something familiar, almost like how Stacy looks at you—

“Oh my god, babe! Are you okay?” Speaking of the devil, Clarisse rolled her eyes at the sight of your girlfriend running up.

“Stacy! How’d you know something was wrong?” You were pulled into a stifling hug, the air thick with floral perfume.

“Silly girl, I am the daughter of Aphrodite. I have a heightened sense for these things,” Stacy pulled her arms away and gave you a once-over, presumably to check for injuries, before smothering you with kisses.

Clarisse coughed, once, and then again a little louder. “Oh!” Stacy turned toward her. “Clarisse, I didn’t see you there.”

“I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for her,” you said, sensing Clarisse’s uneasiness.

Now, Stacy’s face contorted into something strange. Shamelessly, Clarisse took pride in being the cause of it.

“Well, thank you,” she responded tersely. “Come on, let’s get one of the Apollo kids to look at you.” Stacy pushed you away before you could protest. You offered Clarisse a weak smile before turning around.

Clarisse sighed, maybe if she had been a daughter of Aphrodite, she could shapeshift into someone you walked away with— not from.

That night, she prayed to Ares for the first time in months.

#WHERE ARE ALL MY SAPPHICS #WOMEN LOVERS #WARNING: YEARNING #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #percy jackson series #percy jackson #pjo #dior goodjohn #dior goodjohn x reader #clarisse la rue imagine #pjo x you #clarisse la rue x you

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mjulmjul · 1 year

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Far away

#artists on tumblr #digital art #art #ofmd #our flag means death #do I tag Blackbeard if he’s just a silhouette #im yearning for the sea and projecting as big as this lighthouse #gif #cw flashing #PLEASE let me know if I need to tag this with any other flashing warnings or such!

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lunearobservatory · 8 months

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um so this about fav ships but i like the four corners cus i feel like they will just snuggle and bake cookies.

they tried to four way kiss ...

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cometrose · 21 days

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i could cry into the void about rezhong forever like the fact that the only reason its not popular is because azhdaha doesn't have a tall anime twink form like im gonna sob

Imagine being partners but slowly watching your partner lose themselves and their memories and try to destroy everything you created together and you have to seal him away in a prison of the earth MIND you zhongli is the one who awoke him from underground so he just put him back there like?????

And the fact even after the betrayal Zhongli and Azhdaha still care so deeply for each other like they can't change the past but when Azhdaha is conscious Zhongli is upset that he has to leave him again. They are victims of fate!!! Doomed yaoi!! It was never meant to be but they wanted it to work.

And if Azhdaha is the Geo Dragon Sovereign he was perfectly content with Morax taking his authority and he loved humanity and their friendship. BUT we know Sovereigns and Archons don't work out like I am telling you it was doomed from the start but its so good please listen to me!!!

#rezhong #zhongli #azhdaha #genshin impact #someone bring back azhdaha so zhongli can get his ex-husband back #AZHDAHA POSSESSED A RANDOM STRANGER JUST SO HE COULD WARN MORAX #he’s like oh no my ex husband is in danger from me!!! i must warn and protect him because nobody respects him more than ME #zhongli on the verge of losing it all: you’re leaving?#and if azhdaha is the geo dragon (i mean it’s pretty close) that means that zhongli got his power and he was like 👍#like imagine him being like ‘there’s no one more deserving of my authority than you’#maybe i’m going crazy i feel sick #what if morax tried to return his power to him to slow his erosion but he refused cause he’d rather erode than watch morax kill himself #AND THE POEM #and a blind dragon yearning to see the sun!! *COUGH HACK*

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piratekane · 1 year

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28!

twenty-eight: how long has it been since you've slept?

trigger warning: character death

Beatrice is tired.

She carries a weariness that settles in her body, a bone-deep ache that wakes her most mornings. There are days where it hurts to open her eyes, stings when she breaths. Her hands, once her greatest weapon, seem to be her greatest weakness now. She drops things, can’t quite grasp them between her fingers. Her body tightens as she bends to pick them up, just to lose them again.

She is getting old. And she is tired.

She spends her days in the east wing and her nights in the west. She likes to track the path of the sun, seeing each day pass in a slow progression as it climbs higher and higher in the sky until finally, like her, it sinks back down into the horizon to fight for another day. She hurts more on the sun-less days when the clouds push at the windows, threatening to break them. But then the sun comes up again, she walks from the east to the west, and she says a prayer for another day.

At night, she dreams. Always the same one, always the same place. She’s back in that small apartment, stretched out on a lumpy mattress with her toes nearly hanging off the end. A blanket is pulled over her head and the air is hot and there’s hair sticking to her cheeks, but she is smiling and Ava-

Ava is always there. Ava is always smiling back at her.

Beatrice is old. And she is yearning.

“Bea,” a voice whispers.

Ava is here. Ava is smiling at her.

A hand curls around hers, strong fingers dancing over the peaks and valleys. Beatrice follows it for a moment, lost in the feeling, before she remembers Ava is the one the fingers lead to. She inhales, lungs aching at the pressure.

“Ava.”

Ava’s smile widens. “I always liked the way you said my name. Have I ever told you that?”

No, but she knew.

Ava walks her fingers over the thin skin of Beatrice’s wrist. “You grew up,” she says casually. “But I always thought older women were hot, you know?” She grins, all teeth. “Not that you were ever not hot. With and without the whole nun get-up. You were a… wait, I remember hearing this once…” Her forehead wrinkles as she thinks. “A smoke show?”

Beatrice laughs. “I don’t know.”

Ava shrugs, uncaring, but her voice quiets. “It’s been a while.”

“I grew up.”

Then Ava’s smile is just as quiet. “I tried, you know. I- I fought, every day. To come back to you. You know that, right?”

Beatrice drops her weathered hand over Ava’s. “I know you did.” She shifts in her seat, the soft back of the armchair she’s picked today easing the ache. “I know you would have if you could have.”

“I guess it’s the next for us, yeah?” Ava let’s go of her hand, settles for leaving her fingers curled in the soft sweater Beatrice chose today. “I just kind of hoped it was this one.”

There’s a million things she wants to say. It was this one for her. And it’ll be the next for both of them. But her thoughts get tangled, the words knot in her mouth, and a yawn escapes, unbidden.

Beatrice is old. And she is tired.

Ava’s eyes watch her curiously. “How long has it been since you’ve slept?” She strokes a hand down over the curve of Beatrice’s cheek. “You’re never good at taking care of yourself.”

Beatrice tries to remember, but she can’t. Maybe the last time she rested was years ago, tucked into the Swiss Alps and Ava’s side. Maybe it’s been that long, the peace in those moments never following her through the days and months and years since Ava. But Ava looks at her as if she knows.

“Come on.” Ava’s eyes, honeyed in sunlight, sparkle. “For old times sake?”

Ava doesn’t have to ask; Beatrice will say yes to anything, if it means Ava will stay close. It takes effort, bones creaking, but she manages to shuffle to the side, create a bit of space for Ava to slide in next to her, fitting their bodies together as if they were never apart.

She sighs, the tiredness ebbing away as a contentedness takes its place.

“Sleep, Bea.” A hand strokes into her hair, scratches lightly at her scalp. “And in the morning, we’ll be in the next.”

Beatrice, alone in her chair, closes her eyes for the last time.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #WARNING: THIS IS NOT THE HAPPIEST OF PLACES #i'm sorry but i am miserable and i am yearning #covid is kicking my ass #which is already a tag i had #oh joy #and my other fic won't cooperate with me so here's all that's left of me #i'm sorry i am i need fluids

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chanelbootzmando · 2 months

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finished reading star crossed by silvyri last night and when i say a fanfic hasn’t gut punched me like that in a long, long time bro MY FUCKING HEART. if you like the ‘they met on tatooine’ trope i highly suggest this one y’all it’s GORGEOUS UGH

#small cw warning luke is 17 & din is 23 if that makes u uncomfy #but BRO #I WAS UGLY SOBBING MY PARTNER WAS PANICKED AND DID NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MY DRAMATIC ASS #it really captures what it feels like to be a young yearning queer like luke is so relatable #my gay little heart #I NEED A MOMENT #dinluke #skydalorian #din djarin x luke skywalker #fic rec

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biblicalhrt · 1 year

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#flash warning #mcr #2000s emo #emo blog #my chemical romance #my chem romance #my chem #blingee #old internet #emo 2000s #emo music #gif post #mcr gif #gerard way #my chemical gerard #gerard way gif #not yearning #not mlm

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byler-alarmist · 1 year

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Screaming with laughter at the picture they chose for this article

#shocking #graphic cringefail yearning #gratuitous mutual pining #parents be warned #stranger things #byler tumblr #byler #st memes

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thewhumpcaretaker · 2 months

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If I don't get to give a sad, broken man either a cookie or a blood transfusion within the next 24 hours, the sheer yearning will claw its way out of my spinal column and start attacking people like an alien facehugger.

#at least then it can hug his adorable face #you have been warned #yearning #whump caretaker #protective caretaker #pathetic men

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mymelody-sapphic · 2 months

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butches be careful when you ask for femmes to slide into your dm because i will do it and i’m gonna be awkward i’m shy and working on initiating things

#𐙚⡱ lia rambles #this is not butch bait is femme warning #femme4butch #femme/butch #femme 4 butch #femme #butch #wlnb #wlw #sapphic #wlw yearning #wlnb yearning #sapphic yearning

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seaside-lovers · 3 months

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me watching hank beat in an engineer's face with their own helmet

#he's sooo cute <33 #gif warning #🩸 my most wanted #🩸 yearning hours #yearning hours #waves.txt

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smimon · 6 months

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Don't talk to me today guys, there is only one thing I can think about and it's that damn hug from Häärijä

#just kidding please talk to me #it's one of those days again omg #i have never learned how to deal with positive experiences so i will just talk about it to get it out of the system so it's a vent post now #vent post #last warning!#i have never realized just how much i crave and yearn for a simple warm welcoming tight hug until after it happened #like what if i tell you the very reason i started writing giant ocs 20 years ago was because i was longing and yearning for a hug #yes there is a long and complicated thought pattern behind that but without a doubt one leads to another #my troubled mind constantly amazes me with its ability to find unnecessarily complicated ways to tell me what i need #and sometimes life just gives you just that sometimes you can just have good things like it's nothing #🤯#it's been three weeks and i'm still there #häärijä fixed me without even trying #(and with häärijä i mean his real name ofc)

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vvanessaives · 1 year

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i was tagged by @shadowglens and @risingsh0t to make some ocs in this picrew. thank you so much besties, i loved this picrew so much!! <3

vesper moxley (cp2077) • victoria gray (cp2077) joelle knight (fo4) • nina bower (fo4) selene (oblivion) • hiraeth (skyrim)

tagging: @uldwynsovs @arklay @devilbrakers @nuclearstorms @morvaris @girlbosselrond @indorilnerevarine @moiragf @cultistbase @faarkas @steelport @nokstella @reaperkiller @malefiicarum @brujah @calenhads @lightwardens @aelyosos and whoever else wants to do this or that i missed bc i'm terribly forgetful sorry!!

#tag games #warning i accidentally infodumped in the tags i'm sorry ignore me 😔 ckjsdhdskj #made this based on relationships idk why jdksd. victoria is vesper's bestie 4 life & first gf. joelle & nina my fave wlw married couple #and then for the last one. listen. i've resurected a very old oc and i'm still not so sure but i miss skyrim so bad. they idea is that #they are related as in hiraeth is a descent of selene bc i think dragonborn=martin septim's child> family line going forward until we #have our little hiraeth. i never thought of selene & martin having a kid in canon (only stupid ideas of an au) but u know. what if. she #still ends up in the shivering isles tho and becomes sheogorath. hiraeth's bloodline having like an emperor & a daedric prince. OK KING!!#much to think about tbh. not sure if they/she(probably he too. thinking of their gender as therapy for myself) will stick as nord or maybe #wood elf too like selene. or maybe even dunmer?? it makes no sense fjkdfhk IDK. literally i HAVE so much to think for them #also their name came to me bc i read the welsh word Hiraeth that basically means 'a mixture of longing yearning nostalgia homesickness'#+ 'an expression of an empty desire and grief over a past life or place' and with drangonborns i like to push the idea of 'maybe they were #actual dragons in a past life and now human' u know?? so i thought it was sooo fitting. i also like the idea of the more dragon souls #they absorb the more their features turn..dragonesque?? draconic jkfdhfkdsj idk i love them very much (:#(i have no idea how dragon in past life + martin's bloodline can fit but i'm literally only vibing rn)#i want to replay skyrim SO bad but i need someone to hold my hand so tightly as they help me set up mods for this game bc i never played #skyrim with mods (collective gasp) and i have no idea of what to pick ecc especially bc everything..breaks with a snap of fingers so yea ri #SORRY for talking so much i get excited about new things (my oc in this case) so easily..#oc: vesper #oc: victoria #oc: joelle #oc: nina #oc: selene #oc: hiraeth #ALSO FUCK OFF JOELLE IS SOOOOOOOOO CUTE HERE!!!!!!!!!!!

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mapplestrudel · 2 years

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Tigaane - Touches

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Reader

Summary: Space cuddles in the dark. Face reveal (but not really.) ((because it is dark.))

Rating: General Audiences

Additional Tags: Earthling!Reader, Fluff, Non-Sexual Intimacy, self-indulgent semi self-insert, there's hugs and scritches and they're very comfortable with each other, part of the Mando'a for Beginners!verse

Wordcount: 1.6k

Cross-posted to AO3 (link in the comments).

(Chapter 2: on tumblr and also on AO3)

---

You sit on your side of the sleeping compartment of the little spaceship Paz had… "acquired" a while ago. The room holds nothing more than a double sized cot where both of you fit in comfortably, and some shelves on the wall, and after an initial hesistance you found that co-sleeping and cuddling while zipping through hyperspace was something you both were looking forward to.

You have your headlight on, a hand carved crochet hook in your hand, and you just fasten off another square that you want to attach to a blanket-to-be - as the door opens and the door frame fills with the equally wide frame of your companion.

"Course all set," he grumbles. "If all goes well, we'll have a quiet eight hour trip ahead."

"And if not?"

"Oh you know. The usual. Suffocating and freezing to death in the vast and empty void of space."

You raise an eyebrow. "You think you're funny, Paz Vizsla, but I'll be laughing the loudest if this really happens one day."

He chuckles in response. "Won't hear it, Laar'ika," - he stretches with a groan and several joints pop into place - "Space is not only dead cold and dead empty. It is also dead silent."

You roll your eyes and smirk. "You're an insufferable big blue tin can man sitting in a tiny rusty tin can sham, you know that."

"I do!" he exclaims cheerfully. "And the only thing to make it sufferable is that you're on board, too."

You huff and laugh and switch off your light as he stretches again and starts taking off his beskar'gam. Now the only thing you see is the dim glow of the HUD in his buy'ce, and not for the first time you wonder how he sees you with it - and how he looks without it.

He follows his routine - taking off a piece of his armour, wiping it with a damp cloth, inside and out, and then placing it gently under the bed. You sit in the dark and listen, and by now you can recognize the parts by sound. Or maybe it's the never changing order in which he takes them off. It's probably both.

First thing to leave is the utility belt.

Then left boot, and right boot.

Left shin guard, right shin guard.

Left thigh guard, right thigh guard.

Left side, right side. Like a clockwork.

It's mesmerizing.

Eventually the last metal clonks gently as he puts it on the ground, flak vest and flight suit also rustle into their nightly place on two hangers for some air running through them during resting time.

You chew on the inside of your mouth, unable to keep the curiosity at bay but also unsure of how to approach the matter.

"Paz?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think…-"

"Sometimes, yeah." He chuckles.

"No di'kut, I wanna ask you something."

"Ask then." He sits down beside you against the wall, reaches up, and takes a soda can from the shelf, opening it with a cold crack.

"But you can always say no," you insist.

He takes a long swig, swallows and "ahhh"s the content sound of quenched thirst.

"You know I love to say no."

"I know.. but maybe… eek!" A surprised squeak escapes you as something cold taps your knee twice. You reach to take the offered can and a sip from it. It gives you the courage you needed, and you try again.

"Can.. Could I…Would you…? like… Ugh! Look! I know we're kinda working with a loophole here already, sitting in pitchblack and all, and I don't know if there's any more wiggle room. But if there is, can I… can.. See, I just… really wanna touch your face? Kinda like seeing it with my hand?"

He doesn't answer immediately, and you sit in the dark without the slightest indicator of what he's thinking, and it's a little torture, if you're being honest. And just as you're about to accept his neverending scorn that this bold question inevitably will result in, he clears his throat, takes the can from your hand and empties it in one go. Apparently he needs the courage, too.

"You wanna see my face?" he rumbles tentatively

"Well, technically we're not even talking about "seeing". Just… feeling it."

"Right now?"

"If.. if that's okay? or, you know, never… whenever you like. Or not! it's your ch-"

- "Okay."

Truth be told, he had longed for your touch ever since the Cave Incident, just never managed to work up the courage to ask. And what would he have said anyway? "Excuse me friend from another galaxy, please touch here." No. Nononono. Better to marinate in his own yearning. That is much better, right?

His thoughts get interrupted by your movement as you shift around to look at him (or at least in his general direction).

"Are you sure? I don't want you to get into trouble just because of a silly aruetii and her curiosity."

He also shifts around to sit opposite of you and gently takes your hands, completely enclosing them with his.

"You're not silly, Laar'ika, far from it. And you've proven more than once that there's a mando heart beating in that chest of yours."

He is so soft and earnest that it leaves you speech- and breathless so you just blink stupidly into the darkness.

He lifts your hands up to his lips and presses a very gentle kiss on them. A hot and cold shiver runs down your spine and all you can do is hope that your breathing starts up soon again or you will faint and this moment will end rather abruptly.

With a soft "Ke'haa'tayli" he places your hands on his cheeks.

Your mind spins and you start to see black dots in the darkness and finally you remember to breathe.

You exhale and breathe in and the fresh air into your brain breaks your stupor so you can scoot closer, and end up sitting cross-legged between his opened legs.

You know these scruffy cheeks, you've cupped them before, but never ventured further. Now you relish in running your hands over the scruff of a round chin and jawline and his cheeks that are soft and round, and as you slowly feel your way up you notice the wrinkles and laugh lines around the eyes. His eyes are shut but the lashes flutter involuntarily is you gently travel over the eyelids and eyebrows.

He scoots closer, leans into your touch, tension leaving him with a little sigh.

You go further up, fanning your finger across his forehead. There's more wrinkles there but they soften under your touch. Once more your fingers glide across the forehead, brushing into his hairline. There's a cowlick there, a few stubborn strands standing up despite the constant pressure of his buy'ce and the flight suit's hood.

You scritch, and he can't help a groan, and then you travel back down again to the ears to trace them. Then back over the cheeks to his nose, and you find that it is somewhat crooked, like it was broken a few times. A scar spreads horizontally over the bridge. You massage it with gentle circles before stroking over the eyebrows again a few times.

Paz sighs again, and relaxes even more into your discovering touches. Brain empty, there's only you, enveloped by velvet darkness and the spaceship's hum.

His hands find purchase at your sides, digging into your supple hips as if he wanted to make sure you don't suddenly float away and disappear. As if he anchored himself to stop his spinning head.

At last he can muster a croaked whisper.

"What do you see?"

You smile and scoot forward and gently bonk your forehead to his. "A handsome face with a history."

He laughs. "I'd debate the handsome, but…"

"Oh that's entirely /not/ up for debate, mister!"

"Not?"

"Mh-mh. Don't talk yourself down. That's what you told me. And this includes you, too."

There's not much room left between you but it's still too much, so he wraps you up into his arms, pulls you closer and you detangle your legs and wrap them around him.

He rests his head on your shoulder and you lean yours against his and revel in his warmth and his faint smell of gun oil, blaster residue and lanolin (from the woolly flightsuit), tied together by the soap made by the covert's own soap works into what has become your favourite smell of comfort.

You hear his heartbeat, his calm breathing. The hum of the hyperdrive reminds you of the deadly cold outside, but right now you couldn't care less because if you do crash somehow this very instant, you'd die happy, content and calm.

You start running your fingers through his hair, gently scritching the scalp with your fingernails. Paz can't help a groan escape, and you are not sure if that one was a content or a pained one, so you stop.

"You okay?" you whisper.

Another groan is the answer, but he nods into your shoulder, so you continue your ministrations of slow, languid scritchy circles across his head.

After a while you notice he's completely slack, snoring into your shoulder. You chuckle to yourself, carding through his tousled hair with a small, affectionate smile.

You would have continued like that for a little longer, but he's getting too heavy, just hanging on your shoulder like that, so you try to lower him down as carefully as you can. You search for and pull up his blanket and tuck him in. Then you get your own blanket and place yourself behind him. For now, you're the big spoon, and you use it to your advantage to press a little kiss to the back of his head.

"Jate ca, ner ori'kebiin di'kut," you whisper. "Sleep well."

Soon you drift off into sleep yourself undisturbed, warm, and content.

---

Translations and pronunciations (if available) from www.mandoa.org, and The Total Guide to Mandalorian Language by Tal'jair Rusk:

Tigaane - made up from: tigaanur -- [tee-gah-NOOR] - to touch. The "-e" is the plural suffix.

Laar'ika from laar -- [lar] -- song. "-ika" is the diminutive suffix, making this "Little Song"

beskar'gam -- [BES-kahr-GAM] -- armour

buy'ce -- [BOO-chay, BOO-shay] -- helmet

di'kut -- [DEE-koot] -- idiot, useless individual, waste of space (lit. someone who forgets to put their pants on). But, like, it's affectionate here, okay? xD

aruetii -- [ah-roo-AY-tee] -- traitor, foreigner, outsider. obviously used here in the sense of "foreigner, outsider".

Ke'haa'tayli from: haa'taylir -- [har-tie-LEER] -- see, look. Prefix "ke-" turns a statement into a command.

"Jate ca, ner ori'kebiin di'kut": Good night, my big blue idiot from: jate -- [JAH-tay] -- good ca -- [kah] -- night ner -- [nair] -- my, mine ori' -- [OH-ree] -- big, very (used as a prefix) kebiin -- [keh-BEEN] -- blue

[Also, for the record: All Mandos smell a little bit like sheep because the flightsuits are made of Special Space Wool that saves them from smelling like hell after spending basically their entire time enclosed in a tin can.]

#mappsie writes #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #mando'a for beginners!verse #fluff #non-sexual intimacy #the yearning is strong xD #paz vizsla fluff #have i said fluff yet?#it's very fluffy #you have been warned

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athetos · 9 months

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Okay this is something that has taken me years to come to terms with and I just need to get off my chest especially since im not in therapy anymore and honestly only a few close friends know this but talking about it is still hard and I want to be able to better forgive myself and get rid of some of the internalized shame that plagues me because of this, and like, just be more comfortable admitting this fact to myself so I can better heal from it. And I know it’s also triggering to a lot of people so I never feel like it’s ever appropriate to discuss I should have a therapist again maybe sometime. But I’m gonna just say it and maybe delete this later. But I’m a rape + abuse survivor and it’s took me years to even “unlock” this trauma and properly process it. I’ve come a long way but idk I just wanted to get this off my chest because it’s been aching to come out but I also don’t wanna burden people.

#I want to ‘move on’ from this but I’m always gonna have ptsd and complicated triggers and. trying to make peace with that.#idk why it’s been at the forefront of my mind the past couple weeks #maybe because I’m yearning for a long term relationship rn and this is barriers I need to break through #like oh man if I wanna love someone and marry them I have to learn to trust them and take that leap #and the fact that I’m afraid of falling into an abusive relationship again #because as much as I tell myself I’d recognize the warning signs and would leave immediately #I truly will never know what I would do until it actually happens #and I think just the fear of falling for someone and having them turn out to be a scumbag is alone too much #I need to vet potential partners through multiple friend groups or something #my therapist always told me that the reason toxic and/or abusive people try to enter my life is because they can tell I’m vulnerable #like that I’m some sort of easy target because I was a people pleaser and empathize easily #and people realize they can get away with some shitty stuff and take advantage of me since I’m loyal and forgiving #I don’t think I’m like that anymore. I feel like I’m a lot more assertive and like. cognizant of red flags now.#but again… it’s a fear I have #idk what I’m even saying anymore.

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kscribbs · 7 months

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Miller's Law Snippets

Snip 1 💤

And so she stayed like that. One arm curled around his torso, face nestled into the narrow space between his shoulder blades. — A protective barrier, shielding him from the darkness of his own mind.

Whenever she sensed that he might be submitting to it again she’d move their conjoined hands to his chest/heart, trying to imbue as much warmth and comfort and… well, love, as possible. Willing his heart-rate to return to a normal rhythm. And she'd speak to him. Using the same soft, consoling timbre she reserved for anxious patients. It seemed to work, for he’d soon grow still again, drifting back into what she hoped were pleasant, happy dreams. Dreams of things and people and places he loved. The rose garden at Frost Manor. His favourite memories with Jacqueline and the Twins. Endless games of Elemental Ball…

He was fully-thawed now, but his fingers remained icy, frost creeping from his palms, across the counterpane, and after awhile Lucy’s own fingers began to ache and burn. But still, she didn’t let go. She stayed there for hours. Hours upon hours, watching dawn crack over the horizon like a robin's egg, spilling its golden light across the Canton de Bern. Watching the sky shift from pale blue to silver-grey and snow begin to drift down in large, fluffy flakes. Watching morning bleed into afternoon, and afternoon into evening, and night settle into all the room’s nooks and recesses like the ink in the creases of her palms.

Still, she didn’t let go.

Eventually the clouds cleared, and the sky stretched before her as a great, glittering vault. The silver river of the Milky Way was so much more vivid out here. She never saw this many stars in New York.

And Jack stayed sleeping, snoring softly, stirring minimally, his hand tightening in hers, every so often, the odd murmur drifting from his lips. Sometimes they were unintelligible. Other times she could make out certain words. Names, more oft than not. His mother’s. Jacqueline’s. Even her own, on one occasion.

She was overexerting herself, she knew. Using her powers to excess. He was going to be cross with her, when he did wake. Chide her, lecture her. But she hardly cared. She would make sure he got the rest he’d been so sorely deprived of if it killed her.

How long had he been suffering like this? she asked herself, again and again. He’d said they came in cycles, but how long had they been this severe? And how bad of a doctor — a friend, moreover — was she, for not having uncovered the truth sooner?

After a full twenty-four hours she was forced to get up to use the washroom, as well as grab something to eat and drink, all of which she did as swiftly as possible, before returning to his side (his other side now, seeing as he was one of those people who tended to gravitate, catlike, towards the centre of the bed) with her laptop in tow. He had begun to look a little strained in her absence, so she carded her fingers through his hair, pressed a kiss to the groove between his brows. And that seemed to do the trick.

She put on Season One of Gilmore Girls, keeping the volume low, and settled in for another long shift.

The room was well-lit and warm now, a fire crackling merrily in the hearth, and Lucy couldn’t help muse that, amidst all the grief and the horror — the gaping, cavernous knowledge of her own infirmity -- she felt… oddly at peace. Like they were living in a kind of vacuum, away from the rest of the world. A perfect, snow-capped bell jar.

It helped, she supposed, that Gstaad had a real fairytale feel to it. Like something out of a Hans Christian Andersen story.

Finally, around fifty-three hours after he’d first fallen asleep, and while she was almost-but-not-quite drifting off to Monty Python and The Holy Grail (a favourite of his), she felt a groggy chuckle reverberate against her left side, and glanced up to find him grinning at the screen. His hair was a complete mess, thanks to her ministrations; making him look a bit like a lion coming into its mane.

‘I love the Pythons,’ he said, huskily.

‘I know.’

‘Most people don’t know why they named it “Monty Python”. It was because they thought it sounded like a really bad theatrical agent. Did you know that?’

‘I didn't,' Lucy said fondly, angling the laptop more towards him. ‘Good Fact. I'll remember it for next time I see dad.'

He sat up a bit, rubbing his eyes with the hand that wasn’t connected to hers. A little colour rose in his face, when he took notice of the fact, but he didn't let go. Quite the contrary, actually -- he gave it a gentle squeeze, running his thumb over her knuckles.

‘Mmgh. Jeez. My joints are killing me. How long was I out for? Couple hours?’

'Uh... little more than that, actually.'

'How much more?' His fingers trailed over his chin, which was noticeably stubbled. He frowned. 'Wait a minute...'

Snip 2 📱

‘Christ, I know. She’d be beside herself. But there’s very little we can do right now to—’ Melusine was cut off by the sound of a phone ringing. ‘…Do you hear— ? …Who’s is that?’

Lucy’s, it transpired; recognisable by its bright pink, flowery case. It lay abandoned on the kitchen table, half buried beneath a tea towel. The contact flashing on the screen made Jack’s skin crawl with dislike.

“Matt (Weird Sevens Guy)”.

‘Oh, he can bugger right off! The rotter,’ Melusine growled, tossing her empty bowl into the sink as if it had just declared itself a close associate of said "rotter"(...?). ‘That’s the LAST thing Luce needs right now. I can’t bleedin’ stand that man, Jack. Always sniffing around her, like a hyena.'

'Yeah, what's up with that? It's like, uh, hello? Get a hobby, maybe? ...Preferably one that involves heavy machinery and very lax safety regulations.'

'Too right. He's trouble, I swear. You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to answer, blow a raspberry down the phone and then hang up.’

‘W-- now, Melusine,’ Jack chided, yanking her back by the hem of her blouse.

‘What? That’s funny!’

‘Funny, sure. But somehow I don’t think Lucy’d thank you for it.’

‘So? She’s not here to nag me about it, is she? And what’s more, she’s not the boss of me. Or you, I hasten to add. …Actually, scratch that.’ She smirked at him. ‘We both know that’s not true. You’d stand in the path of an oncoming train, if she asked you to. Oh wait—’

‘Yeah, yeah—’

‘--You did do that! What a lark.’

‘Hmno. No, no. SHE did that. Charged full tilt towards it, in fact. I just happened to be clinging to the back of her broomstick, at the time.’ Jack shook his head ruefully. ‘It was—’

‘Attractive?’

‘—terrifying.’

‘Terrifyingly attractive. Tell me I’m wrong.’

‘…The woman has a screw loose, is-is what I’m saying.' He cleared his throat. 'Stark raving bonkers, as you Brits would say. And here I’d been under the impression that she was the better adjusted, of the three of us.’

‘Oh come now, you always knew she had a reckless streak.’

‘A reckless streak, yeah. Mm-hm. Totally. The key word there being "streak". What I didn’t know was that she was the second coming of Knievel. Sectionable, by all accoun… what’re you doing…?’

Melusine now had Lucy’s phone in hand, and Jack was concerned to see her typing up what looked like a—

‘Virtual curse,’ she explained, casually. ‘Nothing too serious, of course. Won’t do him any real harm. Just turn a very specific part of his anatomy into an eel. Eheh. See what me makes of th— oi! Give it back!’

‘Are you serious right now?’

‘Look, I know you’ve developed a “conscience”, or whatever, since your thaw,’ she huffed, standing on her tiptoes to try to snatch the phone from his grasp (a difficult feat, given their difference in height). ‘And that’s lovely — bravo. Very happy for you. I, on the other hand, misplaced mine centuries ago and have yet to rediscover it. I suspect it’s buried at the bottom of a sock drawer somewhere, though I really can’t be arsed to look… I’ve therefore ze-ro scruples about giving our mutual nemesis the ol’ what-for.’

‘This has absolutely nothing to do with “conscience or whotever"; I couldn't give less of a shit about what happens to that guy. In fact it would give me no greater pleasure to watch him have to waddle his way to the DMI ward. I'd just rather not end up in Lucy's bad books, as a result. Things are going really well between us right now, if you hadn't noticed? And I'd prefer to keep it that w-- ...don't look at me like that.’

‘Oh, but it’s just so sweet.' Melusine simpered, clasping her hands together kittenishly. 'The Great and Powerful Jack Frost, all… twitterpatery. Never thought I’d see the day!’

‘I’m not— i-it’s not because I—' She raised a sculpted brow at him. 'Look, shut up, okay?! I just can’t afford to lose any more strikes! I only have the one left! And I really don’t wanna find out what happens when I reach naught.’

‘She’ll probably just make you do lines or something. I wouldn’t worry.’

‘Or, she might jinx me! Put me in a full body bind.’

‘Don't act like you wouldn't enjoy it.’ Melusine sent him an arch look, making him flush. ‘But fine. If you're that much of a jessie, I'll take the brunt of any potential Miller ire.’

‘Pfft. As if I’m going to trust that.’

‘It’s the truth!’

‘You’ll have to forgive me for being the slightest bit dubious, given… you know. Every single one of our interactions over the last two centuries.’

At her mulish look Jack sighed, realising that he was fighting a losing battle. Though he truly didn’t want to buy himself a one-way ticket to the dog house, he couldn’t deny that seeing what’shisname (Mason? Murray? ...Sketchy, overly-solicitous guy who didn't come anywhere close to deserving the object of his "affection"?) receive a good cursing was an attractive prospect.

A very attractive prospect.

Hm.

‘Y'know what...? Fine,’ he relented. ‘Whatever. You reap what you sow, Melville. Do as you please, just leave me out of it.’

‘What I’m sowing is chaos, and I have my fingers crossed for a bountiful harvest.’

‘…In that case, an electric eel would be far funnier. Just a thought.’

‘My, my!’ Melusine's brows did the milage to her hairline. ‘Two good ideas in under twenty-four hours. That must be some kind of record! Remind me to mark the occasion in the official "Jack Had an Idea" Excel spreadsheet.’

Jack was just about to respond with his own (far more cutting) witticism when a sleepy voice from the doorway said, ‘Why do you guys look like you’re scheming?’

The two of them jumped, turning to find Lucy standing over the threshold, looking charmingly dishevelled.

While Jack smiled dotingly, all other thoughts fleeing his mind at the sight of her, Melusine, startled by her appearance, grabbed the phone from his hand and lobbed it at the window, which shattered.

There was a moment of confused silence.

‘…Bollocks. Could’ve sworn that was open.’

Snip 3 ⏳

‘What’s the matter?’

And there it was, Lucy thought. The Look. The one that always made her feel like he could see under her skin. The familiarity of it, after all these years, was like a blow to the jugular.

‘N-Nothing, I--’ She drew in a shuddering breath. ‘I’m just... having a bit of a hard day, s’all.’

‘Why?’

‘…I… miss my friend. ...A lot. I haven’t seen him in a long time, you see. A very long time.’

‘Where is he?’ The boy cocked his head curiously, resembling a bird listening for earthworms. ‘Did he die?’

Kids. So forthright.

‘No. No, honey, he didn’t die.’

‘Then why can’t you see him?’

Lucy’s lips twitched.

Hiking up her skirts, she knelt down to his level, studying his narrow face. The same face she mapped out in her mind each night, before she went to sleep, so that she wouldn’t forget. Every line, every furrow. Every repressed spasm or overexertion of emotion.

Piece by piece, the memories settled around her. Like snowfall. -- A worried grimace as he sat at her bedside, holding her hand through what, at the time, had been her worst surge to date. A sleepy grin, as he watched Monty Python over her shoulder, while the world outside faded to white. Deep concentration pulling his features taught as he tinkered at his Steinway. The panicked, pleading look he'd sent her when she left him slaving over a hot stove with her mom and Nana, while she, Charlie and her dad retired to the basement to "assemble furniture" (drink beer and watch the Bears game). Countless looks of gentle reprove, mixed with grudging amusement, whenever she teased him about his eccentricities. The brief flashes of pride and adoration she'd grown increasingly better at catching, in the months preceding her "Jump".

The mingled shock and delight, that afternoon at the cottage, as the heady scent of magnolia drifted in through the window and the rain thundered on the roof. Arguably her favourite memory of him.

...The abject terror, as he lay writhing in pain--

No.

No, that one she would not think of. That one she made a concerted effort to bury, stifle. Locking it away, in the deepest, darkest recesses of her mind.

This face, though… this face was smooth and bright, filled with earnestness of childhood. The lofty bone structure, the crooked nose, the dimpled cheeks. The blue, blue eyes. It was all him. And at the same time, it wasn’t. Not quite. Not yet.

To look into his eyes after all this time and not have him recognise her, even a little bit...? Hurt more than Lucy would've ever thought possible.

‘It’s… it’s complicated, kiddo,’ she said, eventually. ‘Grown-up stuff, y’know?’

‘Well.’ He drew himself up to his full height, puffing out his chest importantly. ‘I don’t wanna brag or nothin’, but I happen to be very mature.’

‘Oh, is that so?’

‘Yep! My teacher said so. Said that I’m the most prec-- prero--'

'Precocious?'

'Reprocious boy in my class. And that's why I find it hard to make friends.'

'You do?' Lucy put a hand over her heart. 'Oh dear.'

His ears turned a little pink, as if he'd disclosed more than he'd intended to.

'N-Not that I care! Why should I? They're all dunderheads anyway. And I'm special. I'm gonna do Big Things when I leave school!'

‘Really now? Golly.'

‘Mm-hm! And then they'll ALL wanna be my friend. But by that point it'll be too late, 'cause I'll be rich and famous and everyone will know how great I am.'

It made so much sense, in hindsight. So much sense. All he'd ever wanted was to be accepted. Understood. Lauded for his intelligence, his studiousness, his unparalleled talents. To make the people he looked up to proud. He'd just gone about it in a totally roundabout way, steered off-course by his wicked old uncle. His deepest insecurities warped into something far more sinister than they would've been otherwise. At his core he was just a troubled little boy, who's enormous capacity for love was being tempered, stifled.

It would be so easy, the thought came to Lucy suddenly. So easy to simply… scoop him up in her arms. Thaw him there and then. The curse wasn’t overly evident yet; not to the untrained eye, anyway. But it was there. Lurking just beneath the surface. His big blue eyes had a near-imperceptible chill to them. His face, though more flushed than that of his adult, frozen self, was nevertheless quite pale. He was a ticking time bomb.

If she diffused that bomb now none of it — none of the pain, the heartbreak, the guilt and the regret — would come to pass. He would have those years his present self mourned so dearly. He would have his family. His sister.

He would be happy.

And oh, how she wanted that for him. For all of them. The zany, ragtag family she'd grown to love so dearly, over the years.

But she couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t. She’d been given strict instructions by Father Time. Though it went against her every instinct, she had to let things play out the way they were meant to. The way they already had, for her to be here in the first place.

'Annnnyway, point being: I think I can handle “complicated”. So if you need someone to talk to, I'm your guy.' He grinned at her, all dimples and charm, and Lucy’s heart swelled with affection. She found herself caught between laughter and tears. It seemed inconceivable that her love for him could continue to grow any more than it already had, and yet... grow it did.

It might’ve been easier to believe him, on the "maturity" front, had he not been talking with a subtle, but nevertheless noticeable, lisp — most likely a result of his missing front teeth. To say nothing of the sizeable blob of jam in the corner of his mouth.

‘Even so, lil' man; I wouldn’t wanna bring you down,’ she said, with a gentle smile. ‘Plus, I… I don’t really feel like talking about it right now.’

‘Hm. That's understandable, I s'pose.’ He nodded seriously. ‘Welp. If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure he misses you too. Your friend.’

'You think?’

‘Sure! I mean... you seem like a nice person. I think I’d miss you, if I were him. Or he were me. Or whatever.' A little more colour rose in his face, and he glanced away bashfully, scuffing the ground with the toe of his shoe. 'I think... I think I'd be really glad to have a friend like you, actually.'

When he looked up again it was to find silent tears running down her face.

'Oh! Ah… was it… something I said?’

‘No, no, I just… that’s very s-sweet,’ Lucy warbled, dabbing her eyes with the sleeve of her cloak. ‘Thank you.’

In the next moment she found a familiar, embroidered foulard being thrust into her grip. She took it gratefully, letting it sit in her hands for several seconds. The silk was softer than she remembered it being.

‘This is l-lovely. Are you sure you don’t mind me using it?’

‘'Course not.' He waved her off. ‘My father says a gentleman always gives a crying lady his kerchief. It’s the chirivus-- chivrulus-- honourable thing to do.'

‘Oh and he's quite right. Your father’s governor, isn’t he? Governor Frost?'

'Ya-huh! That's the one.'

'He's a great man. I mi-- like him very much.’

‘Sometimes he takes me to work with him, and I get to boss people around. It’s really fun.’

‘Mm, I bet.’

#Jack Frost #Lucy Miller #adult!Lucy Miller #doctor!Lucy Miller #Jack Frost x adult!Lucy Miller #ML #Miller's Law #!fluff warning!#this is excessive I know #but I truly don't know when I'm going to be able to update ye olde Law :/ what with the whole unemployment thing #I do have a doozy of a Jacquie & Jack interaction in the next instalment. And also some Bernelle! So hopefully it'll be worth the wait!#but it's killlllling me not being able to share write-y stuffs. Hence the above #fic #writing #the santa clause #TSC #these are all incredibly self indulgent; I do apologise #I am but a jaded old lady who takes solace in long hugs and characters yearning across time n space for one another #(tell me you were brought up on dr who without telling me you were brought up on dr who)#as well as obtrusive weirdos getting cursed apparently #the implications of a curse that can be sent virtually - both from a world-building perspective and also a narrative perspective - ...#are as horrifying as they are impractical #ridiculous even #but I couldn't stop laughing at the prospect. So here it be #for now at least #needless to say I altered the circumstances of Lucy's meeting bb!Jack for the first time #this is a much younger and therefore much more happy-go-lucky Jack #younger also than the version of him in ch 5 #this Jack is probs smth like 700 - 800-ish #still a lil' charmer tho

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