#and i freaked out because it reminded me of that One Time

[swtheartz]

“ LIKE STRAWBERRIES. ” — M. Grayson Part one, part two Info : Slow burn, duh. Mark’s perspective and him being an annoying little freak. General fluff before things get freaky W / C : 2.6k+. A / N : microsoft word didn’t wanna cooperate so i hopped in google docs and got to fucking work. mb for the delay, genuinely started tweaking out when i realized i was already behind schedule LMFAO

“Where do you live?”

The question was genuine and curious, as Mark sat there and let you use him as a lab rat. He was more emotional support than anything, actually, seeing as you didn’t really need to do anything too hard unless it was being the resident doctor. And, to be fair, he hasn’t seen you outside of the GDA unless you were placed out on the field for emergencies. That alone was a rarity.

You don’t even look up at him, sighing, “That sounds creepy. Like, scammer or stalker kind of creepy.”

He ignores the fact he technically is somewhat a stalker, instead focusing on the topic on hand.

“I’m serious. I’ve never even heard you mention anything outside of work unless it’s about Oliver or Eve.”

“Good,” leaning back in your new swivel chair—because Mark had broken the last one by pure accident—you look at him with a bored look in your eyes. “I like it like that. You already know too much.”

Mark shifts on the medical bed, not injured this time, which had become a more frequent thing. He’d drop by more often. Less bloody each time, but with heavier weights on his shoulders. It wasn’t something he bothered you with. Your presence alone seemed to remedy whatever ringing lingered in his ears.

“I don’t know what that means.” Mark shrugs, holding your stare. “The most I know is that you’re here, 24/7, using me as an emotional support pet.”

You snort. “You’re hardly emotional support, Markus. You’re an accessory at best. Every time I turn around, you’re there, and I don’t know why.”

“Do you have to?”

“Yes. I do, actually, because whenever Stedman catches you in here, we both get put on probation. Which is stupid considering I never tell you to come here. You’re like a dog,” You hum and set down your paperwork, done for the day. “And not in a cute way. I’d pet a dog, I’d castrate you.”

He winces at that, unable to help picturing the uncomfortable feeling of that. “That’s rude.”

You nod languidly, spinning around idly in your chair. The one he insisted on paying for because he wanted to know a little more about your preferences. If anything changed at all, if there was something new about you that he hadn’t noticed before and hadn’t made both mental and physical notes of.

“It’s supposed to be, Invinci-Boy,” You smile, but only faintly. It’s a sight that makes Mark pause every time he sees it, even if it’s barely noticeable by the untrained eye. He’s learned to watch close enough that even the smallest uptick of your lips has him stopping, just for a moment.

Over the last few months, he’s made slow progress. Slow, most definitely, but still more progress. You’re not as guarded. Mark himself isn’t sure if you’ve noticed it or not, but he’d prefer the latter. If you ever did notice how you ever so slowly relaxed around him, how you’d smile—despite it always being barely there—the longer he’d stick around. He doesn’t have the heart to tell you you’re wrong about him being like a dog.

Because you’re not wrong.

You’ve got him on a leash, and if you were to tug on it, he would follow.

“Please stop reminding me.”

“So this is your place? It’s. . .”

“If the right words don’t leave your mouth, I will gut you.”

The house itself on the outside was simple. A two story house, a light but faded blue color with a dark roof, actually quite the distance from the larger cities and areas that’d usually have crowds and countless buildings. It looked old. Something that had been passed down, for sure.

The interior, in Mark’s defense, was cute. Floral print walls that were slowly yet surely yellowing, dark wooden floors, and a plain white ceiling. It was cozy. Lived in; which was a surprise, considering how often you’d get to work early and stay late into the night. Years on years of memories scattered on the walls. People you don’t mention. Pictures you don’t talk about. Thoughts you don’t think about anymore.

“You live on your own?” He looks around, and there isn’t really any other indicator of anyone besides you living here besides those photos and decorations. Except for what looked like a cat’s food and water bowl, and a bag of what seemed to be really, really expensive cat food. But he’s not sure if a cat counts as a someone.

You’ve never mentioned a cat before. Mark supposes he should’ve known—you seem like a cat person. You have cat themed pens, and occasionally doodle weird looking animals on your reports to annoy Cecil. Maybe those were cats; even if they looked oddly misshapen. He can’t help but zone out as he thinks about it. Cats suit you, he figures. He buries the little fact deep inside his brain for later.

“I have a cat,” The words are nothing but a murmur as you crouch down, looking at the bottom of your couch with a slight furrow in your brow. With a huff, you reach under and pull out a small cat, which blinked as it woke up. “Her name is Apricot.”

“Apricot,” He repeats, testing the name on his tongue as he watches the cat in question purr and practically fall back asleep as you hold her. You don’t seem as jaded as you do when you are working. Fatigued, for sure, but you seem gentler. Softer around the edges. Something he wants to see every day. He’s surprised you’ve come around to the thought of him, enough to let him in.

It was strange. If it had been a month before this, or hell, a week before, you wouldn’t have trusted him enough. Not even enough to tell him your cat’s name.

As he said before. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

“Were you hungry when you named her, or?”

“I will let her claw your face off, Markus.”

Your home constantly smells of vanilla and something purely you, Mark comes to realize. There is always an extra carton of strawberries in your fridge thanks to him, and every time he drops by, you let him stay a little later. You let him stay until sunset. Then until the moon is hanging high in the sky, and then until the sun comes back up. It’s like you don’t notice, and if you do, you don’t say anything.

He doesn’t say anything, either. Doesn’t want to. This is something that is meant to go unsaid, Mark decided. It wasn’t every night, but it was definitely frequent enough to notice, even if no one said anything. He’s memorized the main floor of your house—knows the feel of the couch cushions, the smell of your air fresheners, the sound of rain against the windows. It’s something he’d subconsciously etched into his memory. Into the hollow of his bones, really. All the things he doesn’t want to forget.

The sound of both Apricot’s and your heartbeat is cemented into his mind. Mark’s never been much of an animal person, but your cat seemed to be an exception as she purred quietly against his leg.

“Why do you have a whole process for strawberries?”

“Because just rinsing them doesn’t do anything,” You tell him as though he should know, drying off your hands as you leave the strawberries he’d gotten you to soak. It’s become a new piece of your routine. Whether or not you asked, or said no, there’d be a new container of strawberries left on your desk or in your bag.

You couldn’t be annoyed. Not at the fruit, anyway. You usually ended up baking them into something and feeding it to his little brother or Eve, or gave it right back to him just to hear him insist that he share his piece with you.

“I didn’t realize you were a germaphobe.” Mark comments, leaning down to pick Apricot up after she basically tried to crawl up his leg. The joke itself was a lie. You’re a healer, and he’s seen firsthand how particular you are about the cleanliness of your workstation and of the people you interact with. He knows about the little pet peeves that you don’t even know about, the small habits that are second nature to you.

It’s just gotten worse since you’ve let him a little closer. To Mark, it doesn’t matter if you realize how much you’ve come to trust him or not. As long as he can stay in a close proximity, it won’t ever matter. As far as he knows? He’s the only one you’re willing to let invade your space. The one he gets to rant to, even if all he gets in response are mumbles and scoffs—even the taunts and sly remarks you make. He enjoys it. Revels in it, really, and he refuses to have it any other way unless it means getting even closer.

“You’re stressful. Like a toddler.” The words that leave your mouth come out as more of a yawn, and the quiet of your home accompanied by your heartbeat is what peace sounds like to him. “I wish nothing but nightmares and despair on you, Markus.”

“You know you are literally the only person who calls me that. It’s disturbing,” He hums, wandering over into the living room and is secretly delighted by the way you follow behind.

All day, you were working your ass off. Paperwork, Cecil, patients, and a last minute emergency where you had to be out on the field. Healing people with your own two hands seems to drain you, something Mark wishes he’d noted sooner. The solutions you’d made to avoid healing with your hands were depleted, unsurprisingly, with the sudden spike in injuries amongst the heroes.

The amount of times you’d berated people in the last month were too many to count. Still, the insults you would hurl towards his way still amounted to more, and he wouldn’t change that for anything—as dumb as that sounded.

It’s a comfortable silence between you two when you both settle on the couch. Opposite sides, of course, a quiet boundary that Mark couldn’t be bothered to break. Just being this close to you was enough.

At least, that was what he would keep telling himself until it wasn’t enough, and he’d crave more again.

He’d always crave more when it came to you. 

“I’m staying the night,” He rests his head against the back of the couch as he stares at the tv, which wasn’t even on. It wasn’t a question. It didn’t feel like he had to ask anymore, and you never protested. He’d leave if you told him to, but you don’t. Instead, it’s quiet for a few moments, before he can hear you sigh.

“I know.”

Mark can’t help but smile at that, noticing the way you curl up ever so slightly, shifting to get comfortable on the couch as Apricot crawled off of him and onto you. He can’t help but stare for a few moments, even if those moments are something he wants to last forever, and he blinks when you tilt your head to look at him. As usual, it’s blank. Tired, physically and emotionally. You don’t look like this whenever you’re on duty, but it is a look that he’s seen more as he spends more time with you outside of work.

Your heartbeat sounds like peace.

“Go grab the blankets from upstairs, you freak,” You lean your head on your hand as you reach for the tv remote and ignore the way he is seemingly snapped out of a trance. Slowly, he nods and stands up, wordless as he goes upstairs.

There are framed pictures hung on the walls of people. Not people you’ve mentioned before, and probably not anyone you could even remember yourself. They looked old. Aged, despite the moment being timeless and put behind glass and a wood frame to be hung up and looked at by those who could remember them. The wallpaper was somewhat chipped, little pink and blue flowers slowly fading and peeling. Every step he takes makes the stairs creak under his weight, and oddly enough, it feels comfortable.

You keep your blankets folded neatly in your room, on rare occasions. This is, what, the third time Mark’s stayed over? The second time he’d stayed, the blankets were sprawled on your bed, set up in a way you’d probably found comfortable enough to sleep on. He would figure it out at some point. Surely.

You’re still scrolling through movies and shows by the time he comes back down with all the blankets, setting them down beside you on the couch before sitting down next to you. Indecisive on what to put on, or if you even wanted to watch anything as you would doze off.

“What do you wanna watch?”

“Are we friends?”

Both questions come out at the same time, Mark’s voice being quieter than he had originally intended. He can hear the hitch in your breath, sees the way you stop scrolling through mindless television at his question. It’s been a nagging thought for some time, one that’d taken root barely even a month after he had met you a year ago. He wants to pretend that if anytime were a good time to ask, it’d be now.

When your heartbeat is slow and steady, calm and beating. When the creaks in the house have settled, when the sound of Apricot purring soothes the both of you, when he can’t help but feel his fingers twitch with want and feel his chest ache with so many thoughts swarming his head, he just can’t seem to focus on one.

You’d tilted your head slowly, a slight scowl on your face, and Mark can feel a lump in his throat.

He hadn’t felt this type of nervousness since high school—which, admittedly, felt like a lifetime ago after getting his powers, since moving on with his life. It was strange. A creeping feeling up his throat, his spine, his very soul. Down to the root.

“Friends.”

“Friends,” He repeats, nodding slowly. At best, you’d probably call Eve another coworker, Oliver an occasional nuisance, and Mark a constant pain in your ass that refused to leave no matter how much you turned him away.

The quiet that follows makes him want to claw at his throat, and he can feel his cheeks heating up. Whether or not it’s from embarrassment isn’t something he wants to think about right now, because he was certain he’d stopped being embarrassed around you quite some time ago, but it seemed that that wasn’t quite true.

And, again, you sighed.

“You know what? Sure. We’re friends,” You shrug, going back to focusing on the tv after making such a simple statement. As though Mark hadn’t felt like he was going to throw up just a few seconds ago. “Now, what do you wanna watch? Or else I’m putting on those obnoxious sleep noises and wait for a hell playlist to pop up and give you nightmares at like, three in the morning.”

He blinks, mouth opening for a moment before closing, and then opening again.

“Hell. . . Playlist?”

“I can show you. If I have to go through it, you do. I’d have to be smitten by the gods themselves if I didn’t torture you psychologically.”

As if you hadn’t done that enough just by existing, but Mark says nothing. He just laughs—relieved. You were willing to let him just a little bit closer, and that was enough. It had to be enough. Just for now, it was enough.

Until he’d start to crave more, just as he always did.

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[witchygagirlwrites]

Clover-Part 5

Jay Halstead x Reader (nicknamed Clover)

Just as you and Jay are both being confronted with your growing feelings for each other an emergency at Med means he has to come to your rescue

Warnings: mention of violence, sexual assault (in passing, non graphic)

You were running late, you’d somehow managed to sleep through your first alarm and your only saving grace was Jay’s alarm clock blaring and waking you up.

“Dammit” you couldn’t reach your freaking travel mug. At the time it didn’t matter because Jay was right there and helping you put the dishes up but right now he was in the shower, you were needing to get your coffee made so you could leave and seriously considering climbing on the counter to reach it.

“What’s wrong princess?” Jay asked from behind you, pulling a shirt on as he walked into the kitchen. You turned and let out a sigh of relief “Oh thank god, I can’t reach my travel mug” he grinned and walked over, his chest brushing against your back as he reached up and grabbed the mug then held it out to you “Here you go ma’am”

“Thank you” you replied with a smile and started to make your cup while he grabbed his own mug to make, you felt his hand skim across your hip as he reached around you for the creamer “Want a muffin?” You asked looking back at him “What kind?” He eyed the container and you laughed “Blueberry lemon you dork” 

“In that case, yes” you pulled one out for yourself and one out for him before putting the container back in the cabinet. You stepped away from him to slip your jacket on and grab your keys and phone. “How long is this shift for?” He asked and you shrugged “Supposed to be a twelve hour but you know how that goes” 

“Hope your scrubs stay clean” you’d taught him quickly to never say have a good shift and damn sure not a quiet one and since he’d learned that the more scrub changes you had to do, the worse the shift was, that was what he’d come up with.

You walked back over and grabbed your coffee and muffin then turned to face him “Stay safe today” “Yes ma’am” he replied and leaned down to press a kiss to your temple “See you later Clover”

“Ask Jay! He knows what it's like!” Adam was trying to defend himself to Kevin about the fact that he currently smelled like strawberries. “I know, what what exactly is like?” He asked with a laugh.

“Living with a woman, sometimes you run out of your own shampoo and end up using theirs” Jay shrugged “Yeah, I mean Clover’s products don’t ever smell like strawberry though. She normally likes citrus scented stuff”

“So, you’re telling me you’ve run around smelling like citrus?” Kevin asked and Hailey raised her hand “I have to ride in a truck with him. I can confirm, he has smelled like citrus many times” Adam waved a hand at him “See? Not just me that uses my girl’s stuff when I run out” “Clover is just my friend though” Jay laughed which caused Kevin, Adam, Hailey and Kim to look at him like he’d grown a second head “What?”

“Did he? Did he just say that?” Hailey stammered and Kim nodded “He did” Adam shook his head “And I’m the one who catches hell around here for being dumb?” Jay looked around “What?” his heart was in his throat, what had he said? Fuck did one of them clock him? Hailey grinned “Jay, let me hold your hand when I tell you this but you and Clover are more of a couple than a lot of couples I know” “No” he laughed and Kim raised her hand “When you tried to kill someone for threatening her” 

“He hasn’t attempted to look at another woman since she moved in with him” Kevin added. “Any time any plans are made, it’s me and Clover” Hailey offered. “You can’t go half an hour without talking about her” Adam reminded him and Kevin grinned “Plus you text her how many times throughout the day?” Jay scrubbed a hand down his face “Doesn’t mean anything” “Aww, he’s dumb” Kim laughed but before any more teasing could happen Voight walked to the door of his office and told them all to gear up. Jay had never been happier to head out.

You were working with Will. You liked working with him for the simple fact that you trusted him, he showed you respect and wasn’t one of the many doctors that treated nurses like shit. “Wanna get lunch?” he asked you after the last patient and you shrugged “I guess?” he grinned “Come on now, if I don’t make sure you eat my brother may kick my ass” “He’s not that bad but I could go for a sandwich I guess”

____________________

You sat across from Will in the cafeteria, picking at a sandwich. He watched you and laughed “So, can I ask something and if I’m overstepping feel free to smack the shit out of me” you put the sandwich down and grabbed your drink, eyeing him carefully “Ok Halstead”

He twirled the fry he had between his fingers “Are you and my brother ever gonna come out about being a couple” you choked on your drink to the point some of it came out of your nose, your eyes watered and you had to grab a paper towel to dry up the table top, multiple people looking your way. “What?”

He held up his hands “Don’t kill me yet just hear me out first” “Ok” you were willing to not kill him. He nodded “What did you do before work?” you waved a hand “Got dressed, got coffee and breakfast then left?” 

“Where was Jay?” he asked and you shrugged “Getting coffee and breakfast” you felt your stomach flip because how the hell had WILL of all people got to the point of clocking you?? “You tell each other goodbye?” “Yeah?” you asked and he grinned “How?”

You felt your face warm, remembering the fact that Jay kissed your temple, like he always does. “Um just have a good day ya know” he raised an eyebrow and you groaned “Fuck, he kissed my temple. That’s innocent though” he grinned “Maybe if you hadn’t been the center of each other’s worlds for so long” “Am not” you argued and he nodded “I’ll prove it, give me your phone. Pull it up to text Jay”

You did as he asked, he laid it flat and put his phone next to it. He typed out Hey, how’s your day going? On both phones and nodded to you as he hit send at the same time. Within moments the bubbles popped up that Jay was replying to you. He grinned “My point exactly” you shook your head “This proves nothing” 

Maggie called you and Will up when the next trauma was coming in so you met the ambulance in the bay. “What do we got Vi?” you asked Violet and she did a run down of the injuries of the victim as her and Sylvie helped you wheel the vic into trauma one while Will started ordering tests. From what you could catch she’d damn near gotten assaulted and managed to get away. 

“Hey, it’s ok sweetie. You’re safe now” you assured her with a small smile. She reached her hand out for yours so you slipped your hand into hers “I’ll stay with you as long as you need me” “Thank you” you told her your name then winked at her “You can call me Clover too, my best friend kinda donned me with that one” Will smiled at her “That best friend just happens to be my little brother too”

She was still shaking in your grasp. From the sounds of the attack it seemed like it was from the attacks that had happened a few times over the last couple weeks but the victims had gotten beaten to the point of either not remembering anything or not being able to say anything. If it was, Fiona here could very well be the key to finding the guy and burying him.

________________________

Jay was at this desk when he heard the phone ringing in Voight’s room. He didn’t really pay too much attention until he heard his name and looked up to see that Voight was looking directly at him. He stood up and was halfway to Voight’s office by the time he made it to the door. “Everyone gear up, we’re headed to med to assist swat” 

Jay’s heart hit his feet “What?” Voight held his eyes “Can I trust you to keep a level head Jay?” “Is it Will?” he asked and Voight took a breath before saying “We have a doctor and a nurse being held at gunpoint in protection of a patient” Jay knew without a shadow of a doubt just who that doctor and who that nurse was. “How bad is it?” he asked and Voight met his eyes “You know that string of attacks, they haven’t gotten any leads because the guy’s been beating the women to the point they either have memory loss or it breaks their jaws?”

Jay nodded “It’s his most recent intended target. She got away. Will and Clover won’t back down. The guy has a gun and possibly an improvised explosive device. We can’t move in until they’re certain on the ied but I knew we had to be there”

You stood next to Fiona, Will had positioned himself in front of you both. The hospital had already gone into lockdown protocol. You stared at the man in front of you and the crude looking vest strapped to his chest, you weren’t exactly trained but it looked like it was a possibility of it being C4. That mixed with the gun in his hand didn’t exactly bode well.

You knew swat was probably already outside but you knew enough from being Jay’s best friend this many years that it took the bomb squad a little longer to get here. “Just let me kill her” The man urged and you laughed despite yourself “Like you plan to let us leave here alive? You have enough on your chest to flatten this place” Will looked over his shoulder, silently urging you to shut up.

You shrugged and clamped your mouth shut. You were scared, pissed and quite a few other emotions you couldn’t even pinpoint at the moment. You were trying to protect Fiona, Will was trying to protect you and this bastard had no regard for human life, for consent for anything but taking what he wanted. 

He deserved a bullet. They could match his DNA and at least give the victims a peace of mind that way. “What are you glaring at you?” he asked you and you bit your tongue, dropping your eyes. You were praying the bomb squad was close. You needed to see this ass put down.

_____________________

“Back down princess” Jay muttered under his breath. They were watching the feed, trying to get a view of the guy’s vest to figure out if it was legit or not. Once he moved where a snap of the screen could be taken Jay pointed “There’s no deadman’s switch. There’s no connectors like there should be. It’s just a scare tactic”

He looked at Voight “Let me go in” Voight held his eyes “That’s your brother and your…it’s Clover” Jay nodded “I’ll take the threat down Hank” Voight nodded “I’ll handle it, get your gun”

___________________

The guy called your name and you cursed the fact that it was monogrammed on your scrubs. You raised your eyes, not trying to hide the hatred in them “What are you thinking here” you shook your head “Nothing” he made a move to grab you and Will slid in front of you, pushing you back “Fuck you”

He raised his gun and pointed it at Will, eyes never leaving you. You cut your eyes at Will and stepped around him with your hands held up “Easy, I was just thinking if you kill me there’s people I’m really gonna miss” he smirked “Like who”

“Like his brother, my roommate and best friend” the guy grinned “Isn’t that sweet” you glared at him “He’s a good man, unlike you and just so you know if you hurt me or Will, he’s going to hunt you down and he will enjoy putting you down like a fucking dog” “Is that right?” he asked and you nearly cried with relief when you heard Jay’s voice “That’s right”

The guy turned and when he did, it gave Jay the clear shot he needed from the front desk to shoot him without you, Will or Fiona being in the crosshairs. “Offender down” Jay called over the radio and you didn’t think after that. You stepped over the man’s body and ran straight into Jay’s arms. He laid his gun down on the front desk and wrapped both of his arms around you, adrenaline fading from your body as your hands started to shake “I’ve got you Clover, you're safe baby” he promised.

@allisonargent144

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[falling-star-cygnus]

watching gay detectives and ballerinas isn't enough anymore, i gotta write gay time sleuths while doing it

Kisses for GuangGuang ao3 fic: here where Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi show their appreciation for their hardworking introvert, as well as one other

Cheek Kisses

"Qiao Ling-jie."

Lu Guang rounds the corner, a brown package held delicately between his palms. Her package. Probably.

"You really should have these delivered to your own address."

Yeah, her package.

Qiao Ling hops up from the couch, a little giggle tittering out of her chest. Ah, where did Cheng Xiaoshi find such a helpful best friend? How did he keep him?

She loves her brother, truly, but... well. He couldn't be called tidy by any sense of the word. Maybe that's why the two worked so well together..

A slob and a neat freak.

Talk about a match forged in hell.

"Why would I do that?" Qiao Ling asks, taking the package over to where her boys kept their scissors, "You always bring them right to me this way."

Huh.. where were they? She could've sworn they kept them- oh! Lu Guang slides them into her hand, prepared as he always is. Considerate as he always is.

"Because Cheng Xiaoshi broke the last one." he reminds her, standing snug by her side to peek at what she bought.

"....fair point."

Boo.

"Still not changing it though."

He sighs in defeat.

Hah.

Qiao Ling giggles triumphantly and rifles through packing peanuts to find her prize. Three weeks, it took three weeks for these to get here- can you believe?

Three weeks all for some ruffle socks.

Really, really cute ruffle socks though..

So it was worth it, actually. Mhm.

Before Lu Guang can slink away, probably to steal the couch in all its sunlit glory, she catches his sleeve. He always bruised so easily, like a peach..

"Thank you for bringing it in, Guangguang," let it always be known Qiao Ling knew her manners.

But she was still a big sister, and he was still her family by proxy [or in-laws], so~ she pulls him down to her level- shifting her grip to his chin.

MWAH

And leaves a big kiss on his cheek!

"aCK- do you have to do this every time!?" Lu Guang complains, honestly not fighting her all that hard.

At least, not as hard as he could. He bats at her shoulders and wrist and pushes at her with about as much strength as a newborn kitten, so so careful not to hurt her.

Or maybe he actually enjoys the affection.

Qiao Ling presses a few more pecks into his criminally soft cheek for good measure, leaving a bright pink gloss in her wake- strawberry flavored.

When she finally lets him go, the fair boy is flushed a bright embarrassed red. Like a cherry.

snap!

He goes stock still, startled by the shutter of her phone, before somehow getting even more flustered, "Delete that!"

The landlady dances out of the way as he lunges for her phone, already opening a chat to Cheng Xiaoshi.

"Qiao Ling!"

Hehe.

Neck Kisses

Xia Fei should really stop getting drunk at public functions.

Like actually. 

Laoban was going to kill him for it one of these days. 

Though, of course, that would only occur to him later. Of course it would never occur to him in the moment, no, that- you know, hanging off a near complete stranger was a bad idea! Especially when said stranger was prickly enough to put cacti to shame, and especially when you were supposed to be spying on his- his…

...friend..?

Boyfriend? Partner?

Secret third thing? 

Whatever.

Whatever Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi were was uniquely just.. that. Just- them. 

…huh.

Anyway-

Why couldn’t his shame work proactively? It always seemed to hit full force after the deed was done, and never ever before. It wasn’t fair, actually, shame should not operate on ‘hindsight is 20/20’ rules.

Fuckin’ hell- he didn’t even have 20/20 sight! Which really makes contacts a lifesaver in his line of work, all things considered.. 

As it stands, all Xia Fei can really do is thread through his memories- and try to gauge just how badly he’d messed everything up. 

It was late, he remembers that much, maybe… maybe just after the shoot with those two? Afternoon probably. Did that count as late? It should. 

All of them had gone for celebratory drinks, which Cheng Xiaoshi had been ecstatic about- Lu Guang less so- and… that’s where it started to get blurry.

Xia Fei had downed one… two.. four shots? Maybe more?

God please let it be more, he wouldn’t be able to handle it if he got shit-faced off four shots. 

But what happened after that?

How had he ended up koala'd around Lu Guang? And why did Cheng Xiaoshi look like he wanted to punch him?

There hadn't been a surplus of seats, not like there'd been when they'd met, so Cheng Xiaoshi and Xia Fei had gotten the last two available- with the fair featured man left leaning against his.. secret third thing.

Last two might've been a stretch, considering it was one weirdly thick booth that they had to sit thigh to thigh on to even marginally make it work.

"I got it at the shoot earlier. Take it." "Ehhh? But Guangguang-" "Sit. Down."

And that was that.

Until Xiaoshi had gotten up to get them more drinks.

Oh.

Oh no.

Now he remembers. He remembers pulling Lu Guang down to sit next to him, remembers throwing his arms around him and nuzzling at soft soft cheeks while blubbering out praises.

Oh god.

"No- no one's ever stood up for me beforeee! Lu Guang, you're a good guy!" "You're welcome, now get off me-" "Has anyone ever told you that you have really- hic- really soft skin?" "You're drunk, Xia Fei."

MWAH

He'd meant to kiss his cheek, his cheek! It wouldn't of been any more appropriate, sure, but it was easily explainable as friendly! So Xia Fei was a clingy drunk, so what!?

Easily explainable and apologized for.

Bu his mouth had landed on Lu Guang's neck.

Right under the hinge of jaw, closer to his ear than anything, but still undeniably HIS NECK.

The pale haired boy jolted under his arms, with a bitten off squeak! that would've been adorable in a different context, and addictive in a romantic one. Especially when his fingers subconsiciously clenched down on the fabric of Xia Fei's jacket.

If, you know, if he was the model's type.

Which he wasn't.

Not that he was bad-looking, of course! The fair haired man was unfairly pretty, downright ethereal even- but.. well..

Back on track-

All he remembers after that is nearly face planting onto the sticky floor... which- you know would've been deserved, considering Cheng Xiaoshi had chosen that exact moment to reappear.

He'd easily pulled Lu Guang into his own arms, away from Xia Fei's affections, and tucked him away. Tucked him right into his chest, with his own body between the two.

For a terrifying moment, one that very nearly sobered Xia Fei right then and there, there was something sinister in Cheng Xiaoshi usually friendly eyes.

Something cold.

And then it's gone, nearly, survived only by the slight thread of tension in his tone:

"I think you've had a bit too much to drink.. let's get you back to your home, yeah?"

Xia Fei, the one tucked into bed with a raging hangover, buries his aching head into his hands. Reaches for his phone.

He had some apologies to make.

Forehead Kisses

Lu Guang's alcohol tolerance should really be studied.

With his fair appearance, his delicate disposition, you'd think it'd only take a few drinks to get him three sheets to the wind. But no.

Nooo.

Cheng Xiaoshi was beginning to think it was impossible.

Like- maybe his fair friend had some Russian DNA somewhere in him, specifically in the part that processes liquor, and that's why he could down three beers and not even come out flushed.

It'd explain his fair skin too..

Hm.

He'll ask later. When Lu Guang wakes up.

Which... hopefully wouldn't be anytime soon. Cheng Xiaoshi sits down on their shared mattress, at his friend's back, as a heavy sigh swooshes from his lungs.

His best friend had curled toward the center, like a cat in a sun beam or a pillbug. Maybe they'd wake up in a cuddle.. if he was lucky.

They'd have to leave early tomorrow, though, before the sun would even begin to rise and probably before he could even enjoy it. That wouldn't be fun for anybody, morning person as he is, but especially not for someone like Lu Guang- who wasn't even lucid before 10am on a good day.

He'd been so stressed lately too...

Dark shadows lined the thin flesh under his friend's eyes, stark against his paleness. Darker than they'd been in months.

Unbidden, Cheng Xiaoshi's hand reaches out for Lu Guang's shoulder.

It's thin as ever, maybe a little more than normal, but familiar as he smooths the tension out of the limb- motions as known to him as his own name.

What's not known or common or usual is the way Cheng Xiaoshi finds himself levering his torso over his friend's sleeping frame- using that same hand on his shoulder to guide him to his back.

His breath ruffles fluffy white hair, fans over slightly parted lips.

chu..

And his kiss lands on the soft, soft skin of Lu Guang's forehead.

"Sleep tight.. Lu Guang. We'll be home before you know it."

[trickster-archangel]

Sweetheart. It's way worse than this. It's what made me freak out and deeply hate this movie.

I still stand that it wasn't really a hug but an attempt at taking Bob away from Void before he got engulfed, and in the end it morphed into a hug.

But it's definitely written, and loved, and praised, by people who clearly DON'T KNOW FUCK about mental illnesses or crisis situations. You don't heal depression with a hug, you don't hug a potential suicide out of his attempt. I know this is a fucking movie, BUT IT'S THEIR FAULT THAT THEY WILLINGLY PLAYED THE CARD OF MENTAL ILLNESS AND SCHIZOPHRENIA!!

Have you ever witnessed a first responder, or a policeman, or a negotiator, hurling themselves at the wannabe-suicide on the roof, or the mentally unstable perp threatening the hostages? NO. BECAUSE THAT’S THE MOST WONDERFUL WAY TO GET EVERYONE KILLED.

In Sam’s case, the comparison is even more idiotic: first, because WE KNOW Nat had her own way to calm the Hulk down (but she was white so it was ok I suppose), second because Ross wasn't mentally ill, but under influence, so to say, so the only way to shrink him down was to get to his rational brain and force him out of that state, feel safe, feel reassured, feel human. If Sam had hurled himself to hug&kiss him, he would've been fuckind DEAD.

I hope these people, who are mentally incurable, hurl themselves at a raging Hulk to kiss him better, next time they meet one, and tell me how it goes. Or maybe they can ask the AvengerZ to do it, and report back. For science.

Bob wasn't physically threatening, like Void or Sentry. He was mentally breaking down, and like it happens so often in reality, you talk people down from this state. THAT HUG IS A CHEAP, EMOTIONALLY MANIPULATING WAY, to make people gasp beautiful! As if they knew anything about schizophrenia and suicide.

I was tasked to work in the same office with the bipolar woman nobody wanted around. I was terrified because a single inconsequential event could set her off, she usually skipped her meds when she felt good (guess why she was feeling good...bc of the meds....crazy right??) and I'm no counselor, just someone with a horrible past who've trained herself to handle situations. One day it happened: I came back from the mayor's office and she was freaking out, eyes bugging out, trembling, dismantling desks and cabinets because THEY had planted bugs and hidden cameras to spy on her, and she knew, of course, because a folder wasn't in the same place she remembered. Remember being key word here.

Guess what?? I didn't throw myself at her and hugged her and kisses her better and told her it was ok to feel empty but sharing was caring and we'd be better together, or whatever cheap Twitter self-help shit Yelena told Bob.

I stayed at distance, left the door open, made myself unthreatening and calm, talked with what they call my "psychology confessor mama" voice, and helped her go through her day, her moves, all the things she had supposedly done, all that was around us, helped her finding rooting in her space and time, helped her really looking into places and see there wasn't possibly anything there, and then she breathed again, said sorry, went to throw up, and came back shaken but ok.

I fucking TALKED to her.

Same way I talked down my ex colleague stalker who had forced me in his car at gunpoint, to take a stroll around. I didn't cry, didn't yell, didn't freak out even if I was a terrfied 27 y/o. I calmly talked to him in my "voice", reminding him about his daughter, about why his actions would be terrible for her, about how he hadn’t done anything irreversible yet, how he could still walk out, let me go, and go our separate ways. I didn't fucking hug him. I didn't cling to his emotions, but rather his rationality. That's why I'm still here, today, and not a name on a newspaper title.

Sorry for the personal rant, but these people liking the idiocy of the whole movie and the whole way mental health was treated, are probably the same who believe in The Power Of Magical Dick to heal a rape victim, or think a gunshot victim bleeding out on a street can be helped only compressing the wound for a bit and nothing else.

They have never experienced true trauma, nor met a potential suicide, or a mental ill person during an episode.

This movie is sick, and dangerous.

Spoilers for Thunderbolts under the cut

So, when Sam Wilson (a Black man) saves the day by reminding the villain of their humanity, it's stupid and unrealistic

But when a group of white people do the same thing, it's revolutionary and important.

Is...is that what ya'll are trying to tell me?

[puppppppppy]

fake ep idea + doodles

[kavehayati]

Chappel Roan saying she’s sad she’s demisexual and then there’s me being aroace as a whole like don’t you think I’m even more sad 😭

[thebrazilianfan]

thing that just happened:

youtube recommended me a video of reddit post reading from a channel I used to watch but for some reason stopped. I click in the channel to see, thinking "why did I stop watching them?, I like them". scroll a little, remember I am fucking terrified of ARGs and analog horror and they post a lot of that. makes sense

[bare1ythere]

Trying to figure out why this guy in my discussion group for class was annoying me so much and I finally figured it out: I hate being in any class after 3:30pm and the moment I set foot in that room I am immediately irritated just by the fact that I'm there

[anotherpapercut]

working with children really will make you examine your thought processes and emotional reactions like nothing else. I've found myself being so much more thoughtful in my daily life about how I respond to my emotions and environment, as well as the reasoning behind why others behave the way they do

[rxttenfish]

i have and still do think its extremely weird how many people have an immediate negative gut reaction to fur and to hunting in general, especially occurring even more negatively the less they know about it. like.

even just disregarding the fact that an animal being hunted is one of the most sustainable things available to most people nowadays, with the animal being killed as fast as possible in a way that utilizes as much of their body as possible, in a way that produces very little waste, when basically every hunter i know are some of the most ecologically conscientious and green-minded people you can find — the fur and leather and bone itself is one of the few things you can actually feel Connected to anymore.

like i look at the other stuff they promote and so many "green products" and i still can't tell where they're from or how they were produced or even entirely what went into making them. none of my furs are like that. i often talked to the person who hunted and skinned and tanned the hide, who sewed the hat or the bag or the coat, i can identify and pick out the exact animal who gave its life for it and know them very intimately, and for an incredibly long amount of time, long enough that most of what i have was passed down to me from my family. like these are the opposites of fast fashion in every respect, im usually excited to be able to break out my otter or raccoon hat when winter comes around, i come back to my buffalo bags over and over.

i'm often very uncomfortable when they're described as "luxury items" as well for that reason - they're often just priced accordingly to the time and effort that goes into them and will last just as long as the price tag implies. animal fur and leather are the very first materials humans had available to them. it's not any different than going to a craft show and buying a knitted hat from a grandma for me, except that i know the full history of how all that material was acquired in the first place and that it won't be sat aside or forgotten under anything else. it's very hard, even when you just have one fur hat, to not make the full use out of it, that you want to and it occupies a position of respect. hell, fur isn't even "in" for rich people anymore, it's increasingly gone out of fashion for them and has shown up less and less over time.

i don't know. it's very weird to see everyone has a weird gut reaction to seeing fur or discussing hunting, in a way that has never correlated to anything i've actually experienced.

[robinsnest2111]

ah. i can hear yelling and crying and things getting thrown around a couple rooms over. either my father said or did something to set off my mother or it was something I did that set her off and I'll get a stern talking to once I leave my room, or it's just my mother's strong frustrations coming out in her usual outbursts for no apparent outside reason again...

either way, the way hearing her scream and cry and throw things around is still making my heart race to this day. I don't feel so good.

this'll be a fun evening at the restaurant, I can already tell (HEAVY SARCASM BTW) i'll have to retreat deep into my brain and avoid my parents' nagging why I'm so quiet or staring off into the middle distance so much like I pretty much always do during restaurant visits. maybe they'll buy my old "tired and headache" excuse this time as well...

[sweetandglovelyart]

I attempted to make a Taranza AMV because I like this song and I thought that it was fitting for him. The song is I Want to Be Your Boyfriend by Hot Freaks.

[shoechoe]

man i am glad i didn't get the tumblr layout update

[the-moogle-of-your-nightmares]

one thing i was not at all prepared for about having to go without glasses for a week is how the navigating my environment itself isn't a huge barrier--i have to be really slow and careful and it's annoying, but it hasn't actually stopped me from doing things including in the 'god this is going to be a hassle, i don't even want to start' way--but the major loss/change in sensory input as well as Oh God the HUD is Wrong is apparently a huge depression trigger. replacements cannot happen soon enough

[turnedpalefromlackofsun]

so i spent money. and guess what

first time in my life im not satisfied with the collection of items i got

earrings because i think they will match her skin shade very nicely. its a copper and orange gem set because her dressing sense is more mature.

gold color copper tea spoon specifically for chai. i was trying to haggle for the tea set but i failed so just this. at the very least the tea spoon can be used for the sugar. its actually very selfish and delusional but it will ease me to think that she can use a tool connected to me to bring sweetness into her life

and then a sonic toy because shes the first sonic fan ive ever met in my life besides myself. when i was a child i used to wish sonic merch existed. now it does. id assume she wouldve felt the same. ive been to her house before a long time ago and i saw the decorations.

there should be more. this isnt enough to speak for me

avo spent money and wants to spend more. qayamat. doomsday is here

[ourceliumnetwork]

the list of traumas i need to unpack still and my coping mechanisms (or, more frequently, lack-thereof) keeps getting longer and i'm not sure i like that. I think i like less how much i already know they're hangups before they become a problem i have to actively work on, too.