SEBASTIAN STAN at the London Premiere of Sharper
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I want to write kim knocking the fucking sonic rings out of someone with his bare hands, because of course he wouldnt want to risk damage to his gloves. Takes off his jacket too, for the same reason, so its just him and his bloody fists and vest, red splashed on white. On his face and glasses too
And harrys over on the side, looking at kim like he hung the fucking moon
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wip wednesday
thank you to @carlos-in-glasses @heartstringsduet @lemonlyman-dotcom @alrightbuckaroo for the tags <3
it has been a super busy last week at work before the holidays for me, so have some more of the you saw the truth in me sequel that i wrote a while ago lol
“Babe? Hey, how’d the meeting go?”
Carlos steps out of their ensuite, running his hands through his wet hair. He had clients all day, and was supposed to get home during TK’s meeting. TK had imagined joining him in his usual post-work shower, if the timing had worked out, only to realize that wouldn’t be happening when he heard the shower turn on a few minutes ago when Nancy was still talking. It’s not a big deal, but he’s barely seen Carlos in the last couple of days.
“Good,” TK murmurs, stepping into Carlos’s space. Carlos’s hands come up to grip his waist and pull him in closer. He slides their lips together and presses into it, hands skating down Carlos’s shoulder blades. TK hooks his fingers into the fabric of Carlos’s tank-top and grips it lightly.
“Hi,” he says, a little breathless, when they separate.
“Hey,” Carlos whispers, hands still cupping his cheeks. “Missed you today.”
“Missed you too,” TK responds.
“Any thoughts about dinner?” Carlos asks. He strokes a thumb across TK’s jaw. “I was thinking we could order something.”
“Perfect.”
Sometimes Carlos cooks, and TK likes to sit at the island and watch, pepper him with questions about his day and tell him about his own. Carlos always seems interested, never like he’s just humoring TK. At first, TK used to watch for that, a shift in tone or an indication that something was off. He isn’t sure when he stopped doing it, when his brain shifted out of survival mode, when it became sure enough that Carlos was someone he could feel safe around.
“Thai?”
TK nods eagerly.
An hour later, they’re sitting in the living room with takeout containers spread across the coffee table. TK is using chopsticks to scoop noodles into his mouth, and Carlos is biting into a spring roll. He chews for a couple of seconds and then reaches for the accompanying sauce to dip the rest of the spring roll into.
“Good?” TK asks, when he’s swallowed. Carlos nods, and TK holds out the container to him. Carlos passes him the box of spring rolls, and slides the little tub of sauce over to TK’s side of the table.
“How’s Nancy?”
TK chews what’s in his mouth before answering. “She’s good. She and Mateo are going away for the weekend, I think they’re going up to Lake Tahoe. They rented a cabin and everything.”
“Oh, that’ll be nice,” Carlos says. “Paul and I took a couple trips up there a few years ago. It’s really pretty, they’ll love it.”
There’s a sudden pang in his chest as Carlos is talking. Lake Tahoe. It’s beautiful. He’s heard so many good things from every one of his friends that’s been, but TK hasn’t gone yet. He had put it on an ever-lengthening list of things he wanted to do in California once he got a legit break, but that never happened. The list always seemed to keep growing, while his time off decreased and decreased. And once he was fired, he couldn’t bring himself to leave his house. He didn’t want to take the risk.
open tag!
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You may not be "allowed" to think about Eclairette in the tags, but you're allowed to think about it here, so speak up/lh
They exist at all times in my mind, Mape 😔 they never leave now
I can't stop thinking about the way she teasingly calls him mon vieux. Can't get over how he's become so fond over it and how deeply it touches him. Just a silly little name; an acknowledgment that she sees him as something - someone - other than "Monsieur Neuvillette". The ease in which it rolls off her tongue whenever she greets him or in the midst of their lighter conversations always makes him feel a little brighter. A little more...human.
And I can't stop thinking about how it was that comfort, that lightness, that humanity Eclair makes him feel that eventually led to him settling on a name for her. Not the public and (presumed to be, based on his tone) impartial "detective", but pluie. To associate her with the rain, that which has always brought him comfort, it's...I don't even think he knows how to describe it. It wasn't something he spent very long thinking about - he's never been one to even consider terms of endearment for himself. It just slipped out one day. Before he even knew he'd said it.
But the weight of it, the way it just...clicked. He felt that the was the only thing he could call her. Pluie - his rain, his beloved. Even if he still defaults to "detective", especially in public, his name for her still rings true above all others.
And it just. It just!!! I can't stop thinking about it!!!!
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I wonder if Scott's alpha teeth made him nervous even after he got used to them just Being A Thing Now. If, when he would catch the glint of red eyes staring back at him, he had to still an instinctive flinch and try not to think of all the people who have threatened to or almost ended his life with that same vibrant hue. If the feeling of blood under his claws, on his skin, in his hair and soaked into his clothes ever became normal, if it was ever something truly able to be numbed and ignored. If seeing his shadow with pointed ears and elongated claws and shredded shirts gave him day terrors like the Nogitsune never went away; a paranoia that everyone could see how fucking messed up (how scary) he was. If Scott ever truly moved on from feeling afraid of being a monster, of becoming a Monster. Not all monsters do monstrous things, but all Scott has ever seen is monsters who choose to act like their namesake.
If he continues to be cautious and aware of his teeth, of his eyes, of how blood is overwhelming and what it's like to be afraid --- because if he looses his humanity, his tie to slow healing and faulty lungs and what it feels like to be prey to somebody else, how will he be any different from the monsters that plague him?
Scott is the outlier, and he does not let his monstrous features define how he chooses to behave and who is chooses to be.
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Every spring I go back to the physical stuff I stopped doing mid-winter and every year it feels like I'm fucking dying
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