#malluck

CONVERSATION  WITH  STRANGERS  WAS  not  her  strong  suit.  But  the  woman  thought  she’d    try.  Besides,  she  was  holding  up  a  bar,  idle  chatter  happened  all  the  time.  She  wouldn’t  stick  out  like  a  sore  thumb.

she’s  never  in  her  life  woken  up  before  noon.  nothing  interesting  ever  does  happen  in  the  early  morning,  gillian  believes.  or  believed,  ‘cause  the  sight  of  him,  gently  bathed  by  first  sunlight,  a  dazed  look  in  his  eyes,  that  haven’t  quite  opened  yet.  he  looks  peaceful,  as  he  never  once  looked  when  he  was  with  her,  when  he  fell  asleep  next  to  her,  always  with  one  eye  open.  and  very  much  right  to  do  so.

❝    morning,  baby.    ❞    voice  so  sweet,  and  soft,  any  man  would  kill  to  have  one  miss  gillian  owens  greet  him  first  thing  in  the  morning  like  that,  to  see  bright  blue  eyes  staring  longingly  at  him.  to  have  her  laying  on  her  side,  next  to  him,  propped  on  an  elbow,  resting  her  face  on  open  palm,  with  fingers  lost  in  a  sea  of  silky  red  hair.  any  man  would  be  stupid  enough  to  want  that,  because  any  other  man  would  be  stupid  and  blind  enough  to  not  see  that  what  was  on  her  hand,  mindlessly  draped  on  her  curve  of  her  leg,  that  thing  that  shone  almost  like  alabaster  skin,  was  a  blade  she  had  been  sharping  for  as  long  as  it  took  her  to  find  him  again.

SLAPPING   SHOES   ECHO   ON   PAVEMENT,   ,   panting   breaths   steam   into   the   night   air   -   her   heart   slamming   onto   ribs      the   melody   of   which   made   her   heart   swell-,   ,   it   only   growing   in   size   as   tender   eyes   gaze   up   -    even   through   shadowed   features   catching      a   glimpse   of    his    also   panting   face   -   made   her   grin   (   she   felt  warmth   )      like   the   sun   was   caught   in   her   chest   ,   ,      and   suddenly   a      rush   of   joy   was   taking   over   her   features-   even   causing   her   cheeks   to   blush      as   a   laugh   expelled   from   her   lungs-         her   head   shaking   as   she   did   so   -   -   -   eyes   that   have   been   looking   up   at   him-   filled   with   amazement   and   pride   as   she   stared    shoulders   still   bouncing   as   she   exasperatedly   exhaled   a   tender   stuttering   breath   -   stars   above   them   soak   in   the   sound   of   her   happiness      to   one   day   explode   and   dispel   those   wonderful   harmonies   into   the   cosmos   generations   of   creatures   big   and   small   remembering   their   breaths .    .   .    .  F   O   R      this   is   what   makes   the   world   turn   ,   ,      “   we-   we   made   it   “

@chucktaylorupset​ asked: you know we gotta ask you about the Magnus Archives for the fandom meme thing

funniest moment: 

Martin: So, you want my statement, right?

Daisy: Not really, no.

Tim, 5 min later: I guess you want my stupid statement.

Daisy: No. Why are you all so obsessed-

Elias, 5 min after that, knowing full damn well the previous conversations: You’ll want my account, of course. My recitation of events. My testimony. My statement.

Daisy: What is wrong with you people.

heartbreakingest moment: Tim, halfway through yelling at Jon just because he needs to be angry at someone, breaking off with the realization that “

heartwarmingest moment Melanie trying to offer Martin comfort after he got himself emotionally wrecked to distract Elias was actually very sweet? But really it’s Jon sounding like a normal cheerful person teasing Georgie about going on a Tinder date for an excuse to get Hungarian food with someone.

most badass moment: the sheer amount of static in Jon pulling the answers from Manuela, which certainly corresponds directly to the amount of power he brought to bear to drag those secrets out of the Dark.

most…okay, you know how I sometimes scream excitedly about things like narrative parallels or intricately constructed plot arcs? top moment for that: yeah, obviously, I was spoiled for pretty much all the worldbuilding, but really it was immaculately slowly built across many seasons of statements, and I particularly appreciate how they still keep coming up with clever takes on the Entities, like the idea that no one else is real for Lonely or debt for the Buried

something I dislike about canon/change I would make: this is petty, and he’s great as a character and I appreciate the creepy sound effect of it, but it is SO hard to understand Jared Hopworth’s voice. I want him to come back bc I like him but I cannot understand a goddamn thing that man(?) says.

1 unwritten fic idea I have for this fandom: I have a WIP statement fic framed as the latest-recorded of several dozen tapes that a woman leaves on the front steps of the Institute, telling the story of how she found a tape recorder to which she has been compelled to tell absolutely all her life story, until she is hollowed out and sore-voiced and hasn’t slept in days because it still demands more - and she was going to come in and report this, but from across the street she happened to make eye contact with a man (Jon) whom she recognized, in an instant, as the being on the other side of the tapes. The one the recordings are for/who has been listening the whole time. So she’s left what she prays can be a final recording for him, as well as all the other tapes and the tape recorder itself. 

What’s interesting about this fic is, when I started it like 2 months ago, the post-statement bit had Jon guiltily admitting that he knew what was on that tape before he played it, knew all the tapes, had known the second they made eye contact. He was pretty both that she’d be back tomorrow, because the tape recorder had been on her kitchen counter when she got home and she was telling it another childhood memory now, and that if he met her eyes again, he would tear her to pieces like he had Breakon, whether he wanted to or not. He...almost entirely didn’t want to.

But NOW, I think, I’d have to rewrite that ending. Jon might be (nearly) equally reluctant to accept this offering on a silver platter, but there’s no way Basira would let him listen to the tape alone, and then there would be snapping, chastising, defensiveness, sulking. 

well things have clearly  escalated  to a point he isn’t alright with.  tensions are high,  and yet tommy still had a  shit eating grin  stuck on his face.  satisfaction  with the way they seem to be sinking into their own void.  anger consuming them.  self control was an  illusion  they portrayed, while they clearly wanted to lunge.  they stared at each other.  dogs growling at one another until one strikes first.  one with bared teeth,  the other with glaring eyes.

“   god you always this damn emotional ?   is someone on  their period ?    ”

eyes narrow while his lips remain in that grin. somehow he always had this  urge  to pester and push until that  first punch  was thrown. have flesh collide with his own until he was  bloodied and bruised.  watch as the purple and yellows contoured his face.  painting a colourful image of  a lost man.

“    FUCK YOUR MONEY.    - you’d miss me  too goddamn much  if i left.    ”