✖ | malcolm T U C K E R

[ifrownedthisface]

[ifrownedthisface]

[sxarletdisastxr-blog]

happy f*cking new years || open

[ifrownedthisface]

@sxarletdisastxr:

“Drink up. It’s going to be the last year we’re going to be fucking free to do what the fuck we want.” She has a full bottle of wine just sitting on her table, waiting for the fireworks to happen on New Year’s Eve.

“Speak for yourself. I’ll keep doing whatever the fuck I want and pity any sorry cunt who tries to have me do otherwise.” Still, as though in a celebration of his own resolve, Malcolm poured himself a glass. 

[ifrownedthisface]

@imjustanauthor:

“… Uh…”

“Yeaaah… So, I reckon you’re a tad confused, mate. Those characters are made up, and they’re not even the same person in the books. You do know that, yeah? Or did you get confused while reading the stories?”

“No. -- Don’t think so. I expect that you’re confused. Probably not by any fault of yours! The TARDIS might have somehow synced to your neurons. Sometimes those millions of little electrical and chemical pulses inside the human brain are a lot like the bursts of energy emitted by clouds in the time vortex? TARDIS molecules get snagged -- like seaweed on a fish hook -- only less slimy -- and instead of slowing down the hook you absorb all kinds of particles from the TARDIS and her psychic field, nestled away into your subconscious.”

[ifrownedthisface]

@imjustanauthor

“This isn’t a dream. -- And I’m not your shouty friend from Westminster, John. I’m... I’m Rook, and King, Williams, Grey, Booker, Knight, Scott, Disco -- these books are my life!” 

[ifrownedthisface]

[ i have feels about malcolm having to step back into politics after 15 years because he is alive fuck you armando iannucci and he looks like this??? help i’m cryi n g ]

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@ofozzieandsquaddie

“How long have you been here by yourself, Andrew...?”

[ifrownedthisface]

“My face -- it’s covered in lines, but I didn’t do the frowning... Who frowned me this face?”

[ifrownedthisface]

“Right. Time for a reboot. I’m told it’s going to be -- very artsy and bleak. Bleak... I’m not sure I like bleak. I’m not sure I like it at all...”

                    “ -- Oh, and don’t worry. Mister Tucker’s not going far. He has really sorted out the decor, hasn’t he? You wouldn’t know I used to be the main character around here. Anywho... Stay tuned, pudding-brains.”

[captryanclark]

Peter Capaldi @ Letters Live - “The Most Extraordinary Scene” [x] [part 7/7]

[ifrownedthisface]

@tooxldtorememxer:

It actually pained him. The sight and the feelings this man was radiating while speaking of his owner. His words didn’t really make it better. He had to force himself to hold back a growl that threatened to slip out, Figuring it wouldn’t do the human any good. He was supposed to take him back there, to his master, but if he did, he would feel bad about it for a very long time. Some said the vampire never cared about anything, when the truth was that he sometimes cared a little bit too much about things.

He bent down then, making himself eyelevel with the man and cocked his head slightly to the side. “If you don’t want to go back, I won’t force you.” His tone was sharp, but his eyes still held concerns. Technicly he could easaly force the man back, but he wouldn’t. “If your master has truley done this.” His hand reached out again and cold fingers just barely brushed at his wrist before he pulled back. “I won’t allow it.”

His eyes took him in then before he straightened up again. “You can’t stay out here like this. It’s cold.” At least he could help him get warm again, and if he decided to run after that, it would be his choice. “Come with me? I will keep you safe, at least for tonight. Then what you decide to do, it’s up to you.”

Malcolm’s eyes lingered on his own wrist for several moments after those cold hands had touched and drawn away from it. It was entirely possible that this vampire would take him in for himself, or take him in to steal and sell... but self-preservation was stronger than his distrust of the stranger who had already given him his coat and a gentle hand. Using the wall to prop his back against, the human got shakily to his feet.

“He’ll find me... him o-or someone working for him,” he whispered as he pulled the coat closer around himself, less than a whisper, almost like an exhale to himself, but he knew that the vampire would be able to hear it. He was only afraid of Dorian overhearing, no matter how far away he was. He could have been looming on the rooftops above them and the thought made his stomach sink horribly. 

[ifrownedthisface]

@intherightwasi:

Shamus nods his head a bit, being crammed in an office didn’t exactly sound like a very fun time at all. Shamus when he was doing his internship at the hospital remembers going off only a few hours of sleep. He relies heavily on coffee as a doctor as it is anyways. And any food he can get his hands on at the hospital. They had a section for doctors or anyone who worked, to just sleep. He would catch a few Zzz’z there for awhile while studying. Before the others had gotten the boot and used him as their personal punching bag anyways. 

“No, long night, but..Nah can’t sleep.” Shamus sighs and he looks to his oxfords, which he’s not bothered to even untie. “Had a weird night at work was all.”

“What sort of weird...?” Malcolm sits on the edge of the bed nearest to where Shamus is set in his chair, with brows knit in a curious and concerned frown. Shifting back abruptly, he settled into pillows, on top of the blankets, and patted the bed next to him, even if Shamus didn’t want to get undressed and changed. He knew that was still an insecurity and some nights easier to do than others.

“Come here and talk to me about it.” 

[fuckingbalaclava]

"I... n-never thought I'd see you again..."

Ollie’s face was gaunt, bags under his eyes, hair cut impossibly short, and he was so thin, thinner than before. A skeleton of his former self. “I-I-I didn’t think a-a-anyone would ever find me. I-I-I thought I’d die there.” His voice was frail and the stutter was only the first of many side effects from the mental and physical trauma.

[ifrownedthisface]

@fuckingbalaclava:

It was so foreign to him now, the idea he could be loved. And the fact that this man, Malcolm Tucker, so thoroughly feared by so many was the one providing that comfort. It made him surge with energy, taking some initiative to kiss Malcolm with passionate intent. His heart was pounding against his chest, blood rushing in his ears. He held onto the other man’s hand with a frail grip, as tight and as hard as he could.

The response from Ollie, feeling the slight pickup in energy underhand, was encouraging and comforting to Malcolm. Even if the mood and energy didn’t last, at least he got to feel the “old” Ollie however fleetingly. It wouldn’t all be tending to the lethargic shell of his partner, and selfish as the thought sounded within his own mind, it still had him edging closer, arms coming up to curl around, fingertips sweeping along Ollie’s spine and feeling each dip of every vertebrae. He let fingers sweep along them like piano keys, and murmured a barely-audible, “You’re so beautiful,” into his partner’s mouth like feeding him the reassurance. 

[ifrownedthisface]

@imjustanauthor:

“He knows that I try and get out of this kind of thing.” John explained as he sat down on the kitchen table. He was often booked into things that he didn’t really fancy going to, but he didn’t want to say no because John wasn’t like that - he didn’t like to cause a fuss (unless he was among friends - aka Malcolm).

“Anyway, he’s learnt how to deal with me, and that’s to double check that I’m doing things and make sure I can prove it when I claim that I can’t do them.”

“Sounds pretty fucking juvenile,” Malcolm responded frankly, lifting the pot to pour them each a steaming cup once the coffee had finished dripping. Approaching John, he handed one mug to him to fix how he liked, while Malcolm took his black, and leaned against the counter while he took a careful sip. “You’re a grown man -- if you don’t want to go then just don’t fucking go. He’s not going to fire you, you’re one of the bestselling authors in the world. Your characters’ve got action figures and underpants. He’d be stupid to get rid of you over shit like that. If your agent had any fucking sense at all he’d spin your absences, make you out to be a non-corporate type. John Smith devotes his time to his fans, not to corporate big-wigs looking to make a buck -- that sort of thing,” Malcolm explained, using his free hand to gesture along with each syllable like he was reading off a news headline.

[ifrownedthisface]

@thistimefeelsnew:

“What an eloquent way to put it.” She’s trying her very best not to smile, eyes narrowing a moment as she studies the woman across the room. At his question the smile worms it’s way forward, and instead she has to hold in a laugh.

“I don’t think you’d want me as a politician. I wouldn’t be very good at it. Not at all.” She shakes her head at the  mere thought. “But it’s in my nature. Like yours. The chaotic neutral is what I strive to be. Whether I do that or not still remains to be seen. If any of us should be a politician, it should be you.”

“Oh no,” Malcolm assures her in turn, with a dubious incline of his head. “When you’re one of the most feared and hated in Westminster -- as I strive to be -- it’s better to be on the sidelines. My policies -- they’d be alright, but my bedside manner... well, let’s just say I don’t want Federal Assassination as one of the sub-headings on my fucking Wikipedia page.”

Draining his glass, he sets it empty on the bar and waves for another, gesturing to hers in a silent question as to whether she would be joining him. 

[ifrownedthisface]

@celestialsuperstar:

Lazily stretching long legs, Fitz stifled a wide yawn. With the light of Malcolm’s phone and fingers in his hair, he was more or less awake now- in that place of comfort and quiet that only seemed to happen between the two of them in the wee hours. Or after some exceptional sex.

“Berlin…? Yeah, I’d play in Berlin.” A scrawny arm snaked around Malcolm’s middle to latch on as Fitz rolled towards him, “We could stay a day or two extra, too, an’ make a Holiday of it.”

“I think I need one,” Malcolm agreed, one corner of his mouth lifting in a mild smirk, and he shifted closer into Fitz’s arms, slipping one leg over the other’s until the two of them were quite tangled together, but not uncomfortable. “I’ll let them know you’ll be there -- on the Saturday night as headliner, no less. Do we want to bookend the show with our holiday? Or you do your show and then we ride off into the Berlin sunset? -- Or moon, as it were.” It was usually well past two in the morning at the earliest before Fitz cleared the stage and gear. 

[ifrownedthisface]

@tooxldtorememxer:

Dorian Wilde. Indeed, he’d heard of the name, or had come across it once or twice in the office. “I’ve heard of him.” He nodded and his voice lacked any kind of emotion. What he knew of the man was that he was good at his job and well liked in the right places because he could basically preform miracles. But like many in parlament, he had come and gone and now Rory had no idea what he did for a living.

“Hey look.” He reached across the table to take Malcolm’s hand and squeezed it softly. “I’m not running from you. Not when I’ve finally got you and… you don’t need to be afraid of the ghosts from your past, I’m here now and I intend to stay for as long as you will have me.”

Malcolm watched Rory’s hand in his for as long as the man spoke, and when he’d finished, he lifted it to his lips, pressing kisses to the backs of his knuckles. His eyes were still wider than usual with concern at the conversation, but there was gratitude there, and warmth, and wordless thanks.

“You put in so much for your brother,” he murmured once he’d let their hands settle together on the table, fingers still linked. “And you’ve put in so much for me already. I want you to be able to lean on me just the same, yeah...?”