#frank mackey

[playingwiththeboysisagayanthem]

Tom Cruise Characters As Moodboards — Part Sixteen: Frank TJ Mackey

[fuddlewuddle]

Wrote the final part of my Frank and Phil series

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

If you read it, I hope you like it 💜

[incorrect-dublin-murder-squad]

Frank to Cassie: You know, you’re being bitchier than usual today, and not in a hot way.

[lost-generation-lights]

All that night, after I shut the door and left Number 16 empty, I went looking for the parts of my city that have lasted. I walked down streets that got their names in the Middle Ages: Copper Alley, Fishamble Street, Blackpitts where the plague dead were buried. I looked for cobblestones worn smooth and iron railings gone thin with rust. I ran my hand over the cool stone of Trinity’s walls and I crossed the spot where nine hundred years ago the town got its water from Patrick’s Well; the street sign still tells you so, hidden in the Irish that no one ever reads. I paid no attention to the shoddy new apartment blocks and the neon signs, the sick illusions ready to fall into brown mush like rotten fruit. They’re nothing; they’re not real. In a hundred years they’ll be gone, replaced and forgotten. This is the truth of bombed-out ruins: hit a city hard enough and the cheap arrogant veneer will crumble faster than you can snap your fingers; it’s the old stuff, the stuff that’s endured, that might just keep enduring. I tilted my head up to see the delicate, ornate columns and balustrades above Grafton Street’s chain stores and fast-food joints. I leaned my arms on the Ha’penny Bridge where people used to pay half a penny to cross the Liffey, I looked out at the Custom House and the shifting streams of lights and the steady dark roll of the river under the falling snow, and I hoped to God that somehow or other, before it was too late, we would all find our way back home.

Faithful Place, Tana French

[when-did-this-become-difficult]

Frank Mackey: *opens the door*

Literally every member of the Murder Squad: Not today, Satan.

Frank: I didn’t even say anything!

Murder Squad: You didn’t have to.

[peakysrollins]

okay but frank mackey and his “no.1 dad” t-shirt made me choke with laughter, i’m sorry frank

[dublinmurderashling]

@incorrect-dublin-murder-squad​ said:

and canon? canon said:

the kind of presence that leaves heat streaks on the air where he’s been/he wasn’t my type

[brightbeautifulthings]

This is the truth of bombed-out ruins: hit a city hard enough and the cheap arrogant veneer will crumble faster than you can snap your fingers; it's the old stuff, the stuff that's endured, that might just keep enduring.

Tana French, Faithful Place