#malcolmtuckeris

[dawnlestaffs]

malcolmtuckeris replied to your post: shutitloveactually replied to your post: Ok I...

I have ordered myself to bed. But I seem to have bought my laptop with me…

My laptop is making me toasty .It's so hot

[fuckyespetercapaldi]

malcolmtuckeris replied to your post: Meanwhile have the Aussie’s figured out who’s...

I can tell you from the Southern Hemisphere that I am the sole survivor.

AAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHA

[the-crazy-geek]

Fic: Pure Crackfic. 3 Malcolms

(A pure fever dream from not being well at all recently. Askmalcolmtucker, malcolmtuckeris and malcolmsayingnicethings in the same room. I'm off back to bed.) Sam was daydreaming at work, a rare moment between organising Malcolm's work and sorting out her own. It was wrong and god did she know it but her thoughts kept returning to his hands. Those long clever fingers, wide palms. She couldn't remember a time when she hadn't craved the touch of those hands. A flash of light from under his office door broke her out of her reverie. She hadn't heard a bulb break, nor were there any cameras in their offices. When she heard Malcolm's voice raised in a "what the FUCK?" she raced to his door and opened it. 3 sets of identical blue eyes looked at her. 3 Malcolm Tuckers. One of them spoke in that familiar understated drawl: "Sam, pet. We may have a problem" -------******------******------****** Later, when she'd been assured of which of them was the 'Real' one (at least where this universe was related to) and given instructions to not let anyone into the office, Sam returned to her desk and Malcolm closed the door to face the other two. "That'll hold the baying mobs off, I don't fancy explaining to anyone why I've somehow managed to clone myself" One of the others (Christ he needed some fucking labels) spoke up "I don't think we're clones, exactly, I've noticed a few differences" "Okay, alternate fucking universes then. Where did ye spring from, the universe where nobody wears a fucking suit anymore?" For one of the newcomer Malcolms was attired in a very familiar snuggly fleece. "Suits make people on edge, I prefer a more relaxed approach, say nice things, keeps people happy" he smiled. In perfect unison the other two swore at him. Through further discussion (and swearing) they found that between the two suit-clad Malcolms there wasn't much difference except that one of them had run a column where people could ask him stuff, and the other had rather more embarrassing pictures of his past than the other two. Beyond that there wasn't much to tell them apart, that was until the questions from the Nice Malcolm started. A few minutes after he'd been asked if he was in love with Sam, the Ask Malcolm had flung an entire stack of newspapers at the other two and threatened them with a punch up the bracket. Brackets. Whatever the fuck terminology you used when dealing with your duplicates. "Now, come on, this isn't helping. How about a drink and something to eat while we try to figure this out" Nice Malcolm smiled and started rummaging through the room for bags of satsumas and cans of Fanta. "Ye should wear a fucking maids outfit if ye are going to act like one" snarled Ask Malcolm but gratefully accepted the satsuma thrown at him. "Did we ever act like that?" asked the last Malcolm, cracking open a can of fizzy drink, "I know I have some bad photos of my past but I cannot imagine being this servile" "Probably on Prozac or some shite" "Aye, you're likely right"

[fuckyespetercapaldi]

malcolmtuckeris replied to your post: For those who wanted it...

I know I asked for pain, but… ouch.

Yeah sorry about that :/ Will give you all the happy one soon I promise ;) 

[fuckyespetercapaldi]

malcolmtuckeris replied to your post: More overly caffeinated The Hour ramblings...

I like that you’ve gone all private detective on this thing :)

More like my brain when I'm awake is constantly whirring with useless shippy information lol....

[the-crazy-geek]

Fic: Drabble: Prompt from Malcolmtuckeris

How about this: Malcolm/Sam - Malcolm's just got out of prison and he finds Sam waiting for him when he returns home for the first time. Your choice as to how long his sentence was and therefore how frustrated he is ;)

Author's note. Sorry, I honestly meant to write filth instead of fluff! I'll make it up to you I swear!

After the fourteenth time she looked at the clock in the space of ten minutes Sam turned it to face the wall.

Malcolm was coming home today. She’d quadruple-checked the date and time he was being released from prison and when he could be expected to arrive back at his house. She told herself it was just so she could make sure the heating was on, the cupboards were stocked and everything was in order for him to settle back into his regular life.

The nervous twitching of her fingers and pacing around the house made a liar of her.

3 months he’d been locked up. He’d made her promise to not visit him during that time (“prison is no place fer an innocent wee thing like you”) which she, ever obedient to her boss’ wishes, complied with. She’d looked after the house for him and if she’d once slept in his overly-large bed just to be enveloped in the lingering traces of Malcolm – well, nobody need know about it. It was during that night – her face snuggled into pillows that still smelled faintly of him – that she’d first allowed herself to admit something. She’d respected, admired, cared for him over the years and frankly ignored the small talk that abounded around the offices regarding who they thought Malcolm was sleeping with (40% - Jamie, 40% - Nicola, 20% - Sam. She had a very methodical mind). It wasn’t until he left and she had only his empty house to look after that she’d realised how much was missing without him.

It was like walking around with half her heart locked up.

So here she was, pulse thumping in her chest and trying not to jump up at the sound of every car engine outside. Maybe it was wrong to dump her feelings on him the same day he returned home but if she left it another day she’d never find the courage again.

An engine outside. Lingering noise. A car door opening and closing. Footsteps toward the house. She held her breath. A rattle of keys in the lock and the door swinging open.

Malcolm’s eyes swept the room wearingly but warmed as soon as his gaze landed on Sam.

Her eyes asked the question she'd never voiced. He dropped his bags and strode forward to take her in his arms.

Question answered. They were now both home at last.

[fuckyespetercapaldi]

malcolmtuckeris replied to your photo: Absolute Favorite Fucking Photos of Peter Capaldi...

Rock star!

FUCK YEAH!!!!!! 

[fuckyespetercapaldi]

malcolmtuckeris replied to your photoset: This has been a “Peter Capaldi in period/fancy...

This appreciation post is much appreciated.

Well I appreciate your appreciation of that appreciation (I think I've just gone cross-eyed)