#citruslucy

[may12324]

I dyed my hair green recently. Slowly morphing into my true form....maybe a beetle or some swamp creature. I need to organise more outfits around it methinks.

Shirt by citruslucy

[art]

Meet the Artist: @citruslucy

Hi there, I’m Lucy! I’m a Chinese-Australian artist with a passion for illustration and design represented by The Bright Agency.

I graduated with a Bachelor of Design in Architecture from the University of Sydney in 2016. After working for two years in architecture, I studied concept art and am now working as an illustrator, background artist, and concept artist.

A pleasure to meet you, Lucy! Here are some of the illustrations she has picked out for you all.

Check out Lucy’s Tumblr, @citruslucy, for more of her illustrations!

[citrinekay]

bill compliments holden and he’s lost for words. please and thank you 🙏🥺

Lucy, you are lucky I love you. This is quite possibility the sappiest thing I have ever written

With the amount of driving that they do on the job, Bill would have thought that spending their free time on the weekend together in a car would have been unremarkable, if not excessive; but there’s something about driving the winding back roads of Fredericksburg with Holden in the passenger’s seat beside him that feels safe. It’s something familiar, a space that he understands and is comfortable in, even while the rest of their relationship is shifting into deeper, more serious waters. 

They started out this afternoon leaving the house to go to dinner, but once they left the restaurant, Holden hadn’t wanted to go home. He wanted to drive out to see the Rappahannock River. Bill has seen the river plenty of times as it cradles the city that he’s lived in for most of his life, and it’s a good half hour drive out of their way; but, it’s what Holden wants so Bill complies without complaint. 

The drive is quiet except for the mellow strains of Fleetwood Mac bleeding from the radio. Holden’s hand creeps across the gearshift while the sun begins to set in front of them, painting the dusky blue of the sky with pink and purple. Bill takes his hand off the wheel to find Holden’s hand against his thigh. Their fingers touch, slowly at first, nudging up against one another in a tentative question of boundaries. 

Bill cuts a glance across the car, but Holden’s gaze is fixed on the dazzling sunset deepening across the sky in front of them. The color is so low against the asphalt that it looks like they could dive into the blush of pink at any moment. The wash of light spills across Holden’s profile, illuminating the soft swell of his cheeks plumping in a smile, his lips squirming against the giddy expression. 

Their fingers intertwine, and Bill draws in a steadying breath. 

Holden chuckles softly. 

“What?” Bill asks, trying not to sound defensive. 

“You’re holding my hand.” Holden says, peeking across the car at him. 

“I can see that.” 

Holden keeps smiling, biting his lower lip. Bill sighs, but lets him have the moment. Lets himself have it, if he’s being honest. He can’t remember the last time he and Nancy held hands before everything went to shit. It’s one of those little things he didn’t realize he’d missed about being in a happy relationship. 

When they reach the river, Bill finds a parking spot that’s secluded from the rest of the vehicles. Most people are headed for the walking trail along the side of the water, but Holden is content to stay in the car where the panoramic view of the sunset over the water lapses out in front of them. 

Bill disentangles their fingers to slide his arm across the back of the seat, and around Holden’s shoulders. 

“Well, here we are.” He says, “Happy?” 

“Yes.” Holden murmurs, tucking himself under Bill’s shoulder, and snuggling down with a contented sigh. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Mm.” Bill mutters, his gaze more focused on Holden’s blissful expression rather than the view. 

He curls his fingers around Holden’s shoulder, and gradually moves his hand inward until his touch is brushing up against Holden’s neck, just below his ear. 

Holden suppresses a quiet sound as the stroking intensifies, rubbing up along his hairline, and tracing the shell of his ear. He purses his lips, keeping his gaze stubbornly focused on the sunset. 

Bill drops a soft kiss against his forehead. 

He’s seen a hundred sunsets. He’s seen the river. He’s seen the sky from behind the wheel, when the road was before him, and the passenger’s seat was empty. He’s put his arm around someone else, and ached for it to feel this good. But it’s never felt this way. Not even close. 

Slipping his fingers under Holden’s chin, he tilts his head back to press a slow kiss to Holden’s mouth. 

Holden whimpers a quiet sound of surprise, but quickly melts into the caress. He slides his lips open, expelling a sweet, breathy moan into the wet pressure of Bill’s mouth coming down in gradual, yearning strokes. Clutching at the collar of Bill’s shirt, he kisses back for a moment before tearing his mouth away. 

“You’re missing it.” He whispers, nodding at the final stages of the sunset turning the deepest pink. 

“I’m not missing anything.” Bill says, stroking Holden’s chin so that it can’t turn away from him.

Holden pauses, his eyes blinking rapidly. Whatever levity had existed up until this moment saps away into silence, into the bob of his throat as he swallows back the flutter of anxiety making its way to his eyes. 

He begins to blush, and Bill kisses him again like he can’t stop himself, like there’s some strong magnet hidden under the lush swell of Holden’s tongue. When he draws back, shuddering, his eyes slip open to glimpse the blue of Holden’s eyes, the pink pucker of his lips. 

“Fuck.” Bill whispers, clutching Holden’s cheek. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Surprise registers in Holden’s eyes before they quickly dart away. He shifts uncomfortably in Bill’s embrace as the blush on his cheeks blossoms into deeper red. 

“What?” He says, giving a strangled little laugh. 

He swallows hard. Maybe they’re both surprised he said it. He hesitates a moment before realizing he meant it. “I said you’re beautiful.” 

Holden’s brow furrows. His mouth moves wordlessly for a moment before he manages to stammer, “I-I don’t know about that-”

“You expect me to believe nobody has ever told you that before? Look at you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means you look like someone who should know what kind of effect they have on people.” 

“I have an effect on people?” Holden echoes, his frown deepening in disbelief. 

“Well, I can’t speak for anyone but myself, but …” 

“I’ve never thought of myself that way.” Holden murmurs, sounding bewildered. “I have an effect on you?” 

“It’s a little late for that realization, don’t you think?” Bill asks, motioning to the scant space between them. 

Holden laughs, softly. He tugs Bill down by the collar for another kiss, melding a whisper into the touch, “Yes it is.” 

They don’t talk again for awhile while the kiss stretches on, a gradual, simmering stroke of lips and tongue that’s restrained only by the fact that the little bit of privacy they have is too fragile for anything else. Bill sinks into the hungry ache, feeling like a teenager again making out in his car, longing for the real thing. He can have anything he wants now, but he feels like he should savor this indeterminable feeling floating warmly in his chest. 

When the light of the sunset bleeds away into darkness, Bill extricates his mouth from Holden’s. His mouth is humming with Holden’s taste, an aperitif before the rest of the night. 

“Ready to go home?” He murmurs. 

Holden nods. “Yes. Take me home.”

[soft-sapphic-love]

did u guys use a picrew for all your little icons? if so, which one? theyre all so cute!! :0

Yes we did! We used @citruslucy's picrew. You can find it here ♡

- Mod Chloe

[lozenger8]

Sam/Gene, 12? Thanks, I really like your writing ❤️

(things you said when you thought i was asleep)

Gene’s been stellar at pretending to sleep since he was a child and truly perfected the skill during National Service. It’s a talent that’s got him out of beatings, bar fights, and bombings. It’s also turned into a habit, a thing he does just because -- because talking is exhausting, because not saying what he wants to say can be even more draining, because even with Sam he feels the need to be on all the time. 

So, Gene’s doing the good ol’ thick-breathing-and-snuffle routine, lying there in the dark, not thinking much about anything except wanting to actually be asleep. Sam’s nearby on the chaise longue, definitely awake given the shallowness of his own in and exhalation, his persistent fidgeting. This is one of those times when Gene wishes he could get up and take Sam by the arms and shake, shake, shake until some of his nervous energy falls out. 

“Wish i could tell you this when you’re awake, but you’d probably have me committed,” Sam whispers across the dark. 

Gene hopes Sam can’t see that he scrunches his eyes tighter. He doesn’t want to hear any more of that time travel malarkey Sam thinks he doesn’t notice. It’s bad enough that Sam’s on a one-man quest to drive him bonkers, worse that it’ll be dragging him down to his level. 

“I’m half in love with you,” Sam continues. “Sometimes maybe even more than half. Being with you makes me come alive and every time I think  you’re gonna disappoint or betray me, you surprise me instead.”

Sam goes quiet after this, and Gene lies there, heart racing, working hard at making his lungs expand and contract at a reasonable rate for someone who’s deep in slumber. How’s he supposed to cope with that? A love confession he was never meant to hear? How’s he supposed to respond - or not respond, as the case may be. 

He doesn’t sleep until he sees the early morning, the dusky blue before dawn. He awakens, like a bear with a sore head, when Sam begins clattering about his flat, making breakfast. He can’t have slept for more than two hours. 

The little bastard’s made pancakes, with a lemon wedge and sugar. Gene stares at them through blurry eyes, doesn’t bother with the knife and fork, just rolls them up one by one and feeds them in his mouth like a cigar. His mother’s shuddering all the way in Levenshulme. 

“Truly, watching you eat is some kind of spectacle. You should charge admission.”

Now, Gene is not as cowardly as his enemies would say. There are even times he’s as brave as he claims to be. 

“Speaking of admissions, I heard you last night.”

Sam finishes cutting his first pancake into neat little triangles, each lightly dusted with sugar. “You what?”

“Heard what you said, when you thought I was sleeping.”

Sam has an excellent poker face. It’s pretty obvious he thinks Gene’s bluffing, trying to get a rise. He shrugs one shoulder. 

“Okay, then. I’m sure my sleep-talking was fascinating. Rambled about buying new pens or some such and touched on my deep hatred of all things Thatcher even though no one else yet can really determine why.”

Gene shakes his head. “No, really, I heard you. I’m just wondering, how do I make up the lost fraction? 

Sam’s eyes widen, infinitesimally. He slowly brings one of his pancake triangles to his mouth, slots it in. He chews, looking to the left of Gene’s shoulder rather than into Gene’s face. Maybe if he looked he’d see what Gene’s trying to project. It’s not only acceptance, it’s welcoming, it’s wanting.

Gene waits, but Sam’s not forthcoming. He stares down at his plate. 

“Sam --” Gene starts.

“Don’t take it the wrong way,” Sam blurts. “I meant like a friend. You know, an old friend, a close friend. Not -- whatever it is you’re assuming.”

“Sam,” Gene says, rolling his eyes. “You’ve said a shed-load of crazy shit in your time, but trying to claim a late-night love confession as a friendly gesture of good will takes the bloody biscuit.” He leans over, takes Sam’s wrist. “Listen to me, for once. You said you were half in love with me, maybe more. I wanna know, how do I close the gap?”

“Kiss me,” Sam says, challenging. He tilts his head back, squares his shoulders.

“Is that it?”

“It’s a start.”

Gene stands up from the table, pulls Sam up too. He strokes his fingers against Sam’s jaw. Sam’s holding himself still, like he’s bracing himself against unimaginable horrors -- and Gene thinks he’s going to surprise him again, going to go against the rules and guidelines Sam’s made up inside his head about who Gene is and what he wants. 

Gene leans in, tilts his head, and kisses Sam on the lips. He kisses him like he’s thought about more than once, on dark nights, in private places, when he’s allowed himself. He moans, low, when Sam kisses back, sweet and tart like the pancakes they’ve been eating. 

They’re both breathing heavily when they pull apart. Sam opens his eyes slowly, gazes at Gene in wonder.

“I love you a whole lot,” Sam says, wry. 

“One kiss is all it takes, eh?”

“Apparently.”

Gene cradles Sam’s jaw, pats it gently. “Good, because I’ve loved you entirely too much for months now.”

[rominatrix]

citruslucy replied to your post: So I'm rewaching e01s01 of Mindhunter and Bill...

im just…. i have to lie down

dfajdslj same! that's the energy for the entire set of holden and bill interactions 🤦💞

[lozenger8]

citruslucy replied to your post: citruslucy replied to your post “Sam/Gene, 12?...

:’) it’s really nice to see people still writing about them, I feel like I’m the only person foolish enough to still be deeply emotionally invested in this show in 2018 haha

I know that feeling! Have you found existing fics and recs?

Life on Mars is my forever show, the one I will go back to, time and again. The love is always there, deep in my heart. 

[lozenger8]

citruslucy replied to your post “Sam/Gene, 12? Thanks, I really like your writing ❤️”

oh my god thank you!! this is so sweet and fluffy, just what I needed <3 my boys saying I love you to each other

I’m so glad you liked it, as I super enjoyed writing it and exploring my favourite characters together again.