and of course anything with malcolm

anonymous asked:

Hi - after rewatching TTOI last week I started thinking about Malcolm's career choices (among other things) and why he didn't decide to become an actual politician. He's intelligent, probably charming enough to get votes whilst still being able to act ruthlessly when necessary, and has at least some sense of morality. I suppose if his previous job was in journalism or something similar then that might explain why he got into dealing with the media. I don't know.

Apologies, Anon (if you are even still out there) for the shamefully long time it has taken me to reply to this. Hmmm, I can’t say I’ve questioned Malcolm’s career choice in terms of him wanting a behind-the-scenes Number 10 government job rather than choosing to go into the elected side of  politics.

To start at the end, in UK politics being involved with journalism before (or indeed while) being an MP is not at all unusual so I don’t think that would be the deciding factor for Malcolm.

No, I think for him the deciding factor would simply be a) did Malcolm want to be the one being shouted at? or b) did Malcolm want to be the one doing the shouting? Because I think there is only one answer to that and we all know what it is.

(Although the other side of that is Malcolm as Director of Communications for Number 10 really only has the authority to shout at elected politicians if they are cabinet ministers like Hugh and Nicola and junior ministers like Ben or former cabinet ministers that he’d sacked like Cliff or put out by the bins persuaded to resign like Geoff Holhurst. So if he were on the backbenches with the majority of MPs – like Nicola before her unexpected elevation – almost certainly no one at Number 10 would care enough/even know enough about his existence to shout at him which I’m sure would be intolerable in its own way.)

Malcolm is also pretty consistent in his dislike of being known about by people outside of Westminster – although I think that no matter how much he protests that he doesn’t want the public to know about him he does get a bit of a thrill from even the most negative newspaper article written specifically about him

(which is pretty much every article written specifically about him) because it means he IS Very!Important! which has to be a great big ego boost.

On the other hand though, he pretty much doesn’t trust or like the public at all

and never wants to have anything to do with them if he can help it.

Yes, he can be charming with regular people when he needs to be like with Geordie Julie the Merry Fucking Widow in 303,

(or even telemarketers)

but only when he needs to be (see also Geordie Julie the Merry Fucking Widow literally two minutes later in 303)

and especially Middle England Mary the Actress in 102

although of course in that case Malcolm was in EXTREME need of a nap) and I can’t imagine he has the slightest interest in the public as individuals or in dealing with them on a day to day basis as he would have to (or should anyway) as an MP. I’m thinking about Simon Foster and his disastrous constituency surgeries in In the Loop

and trying to imagine if it were Malcolm instead and…nope, can’t do it.

(Although on the other hand if Malcolm were an MP and Sam was still his PA, I’m sure she would have had English Begbie Alan Partridge’s problem with the constituency wall sorted out in a trice.)

Malcolm’s first loyalty after himself – and be let’s honest about the order – is to the Party in general and I would say the first unnamed PM (“Boss”) in particular. What interests Malcolm is making sure the party stays strong and for him that means making sure the party’s message (whatever it may be at any particular moment which may well completely contradict what it was five minutes ago)

is being sold just the way he wants it to be.

At least in the glory days, Malcolm’s position at Number 10 gave him to a greater and lesser degree power over politicians AND the press.  Politicians – and the occasional unfortunate civil servant – only got to say the lines but Malcolm got to create them and then use all of his considerable powers of charm and persuasion and force of personality to MAKE people sell them

even when they really really Sweary Woman of Whitehall TERRI! really really don’t want to.

Just look at Malcolm’s 8:30s when he’s at the height of his power. Is any MP in TTOI who is not the unnamed PM ever as satisfied as Malcolm is here

laying down the law to the ministerial minions?

Oh I don’t think so.


Jamie. There it was; the anchor point to which I had clung, my single hold on sanity. I breathed slow and deep, hands folded over my pounding heart, summoning Jamie’s face. For a moment, I thought I had lost him, and then it came, clear and bold in my mind’s eye.

Originally posted by thesassenach

Once again, I struggled upright, and this time stayed, propped by my outstretched hands. Yes, certainly it was Scotland. It could hardly by anything else, of course, but it was also the Scotland of the past. At least, I hoped it was the past. It wasn’t the Scotland I’d left, at any rate. The trees and bushes grew in different patterns; there was a patch of maple saplings just below me that hadn’t been there when I’d climbed the hill—when? That morning? Two days ago?

I had no idea how much time had passed since I had entered the standing stones, or how long I had lain unconscious on the hillside below the circle. Quite a while, judging from the sogginess of my clothing; I was soaked through to the skin, and small chilly rivulets ran down my sides under my gown.

One numbed cheek was beginning to tingle; putting my hand to it, I could feel a pattern of incised bumps. I looked down and saw a layer of fallen rowan berries, gleaming red and black among the grass. Very appropriate, I thought, vaguely amused. I had fallen down under a rowan—the Highland protection against witchcraft and enchantment.

I grasped the smooth trunk of the rowan tree, and laboriously hauled myself to my feet. Still holding onto the tree for support, I looked to the northeast. The rain had faded the horizon to a gray invisibility, but I knew that Inverness lay in that direction. No more than an hour’s trip by car, along modern roads.

The road existed; I could see the outline of a rough track that led along the base of the hill, a dark, silvery line in the gleaming green wetness of the moor plants. However, forty-odd miles on foot was a far cry from the journey by car that had brought me here.

I was beginning to feel somewhat better, standing up. The weakness in my limbs was fading, along with the feeling of chaos and disruption in my mind. It had been as bad as I’d feared, this passage; perhaps worse. I could feel the terrible presence of the stones above me, and shuddered, my skin prickling with cold.

I was alive, though. Alive, and with a small feeling of certainty, like a tiny glowing sun beneath my ribs. He was here. I knew it now, though I hadn’t known it when I threw myself between the stones; that had been a leap of faith. But I had cast out my thought of Jamie like a lifeline tossed into a raging torrent—and the line had tightened in my grasp, and pulled me free.

I was wet, cold, and felt battered, as though I had been washing about in the surf against a rocky shore. But I was here. And somewhere in this strange country of the past was the man I had come to find. The memories of grief and terror were receding, as I realized that my die was cast. I could not go back; a return trip would almost surely be fatal. As I realized that I was likely here to stay, all hesitations and terrors were superseded by a strange calm, almost exultant. I could not go back. There was nothing to do but go forward—to find him.

the past is the past

Carry On Countdown Day 6: Early/Next Gen

Lucy/Natasha (it sounds weird, but just trust me here)

The worst thing about seeing Natasha with Malcolm was how hard she always looked.

She had her dark hair pulled into a tight topknot and her mouth pressed into a harsh line, and she stood there, stiff as a statue, in her uniform. He towered over her, but she still didn’t look small. Lucy wasn’t sure if Natasha could look small. She was so tall and elegant, streamlined from her head to her feet. She commanded the attention in a room without a word. People listened to her. People respected her. But they weren’t afraid of her- when she smiled at you, it was impossible to be afraid of anything.

It was astonishing to Lucy how many people told her they were a “cute couple”. She didn’t see it at all. What she saw was her beautiful best friend, condensed into a lesser version of herself, standing next to a man that didn’t love her nearly as much as she deserved to be loved. And it drove her insane.

The worst thing about seeing Lucy with Davy was how happy she always looked.

Of course, Lucy was a happy-go-lucky person, with her crazy bronze curls springing out in all directions from her head and her lively blue eyes sparkling. She would lean into his shoulder and say something quietly, and he would furrow his eyebrows like he was angry, and then as if by magic, they would burst out laughing at what seemed to be the funniest thing in the world.

Not that there was anything wrong with Malcolm. He was a handsome guy, sturdy and serious about his studies. He treated her like a princess. And he was powerful.

But power wasn’t what Natasha wanted.

She wanted wild golden hair and sloping hips and crinkles at the edges of baby blues that seemed to dance and twirl and glow- eyes that held the universe inside of them. She wanted soft, pink lips and straight, white teeth and a crooked nose dotted with freckles. But that was what Davy had, and Malcolm was what Natasha had, and that was the way it was.

Well, not always.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Natasha breathed into the delicate skin of Lucy’s neck as Lucy tugged her hair free from its hair tie. It tumbled down and spilled around her shoulders.

“You look better with your hair down,” Lucy replied, ignoring Natasha’s statement. She was standing and Natasha sat on the bed. Lucy eased her way into the other girl’s lap, hooking one finger into the breast pocket of Natasha’s jacket. She wrapped her legs around Natasha’s middle and leaned in, pressing a feverish kiss just below the other girl’s ear.

“Really, Lucy, we can’t-”

“I know,” Lucy cooed, stroking Natasha’s hair and leaning in. The tips of their noses just brushed, and Natasha’s eyes looked like melting ice. “But we’re going to anyway.” She trailed her fingers down the sides of Natasha’s face and to her neck, then leaned in closer and kissed her. Natasha melted into her embrace, all protests long gone.

She deserved to be happy sometimes, didn’t she?

Her body answered for her as her hands began playing with the hem of Lucy’s pajama shirt. Lucy’s hair was still damp from showering and when it fell in her face and onto Natasha, it send a chill down Natasha’s spine. “How come you were back so late?” Lucy asked, breaking the kiss.

“I was helping Malcolm with his Elocution homework,” Natasha said, nuzzling into the crook of Lucy’s shoulder. “I don’t want to talk about him right now.” She slipped her hand further up into the hem of Lucy’s shirt.

“What do you want to talk about?” Lucy teased, leaning into Natasha. They tumbled backward onto the bed, laughing. Lucy wiggled her legs out from underneath Natasha.

“I don’t want to talk at all,” Natasha murmured, flipping Lucy over and tugging the shirt over her head. “I don’t want to talk at all.”

“We have to get up,” Natasha said reluctantly, pushing Lucy off her. She peeled herself out of the sheets and went towards the bathroom to run a shower.

“Don’t leave yet,” Lucy whined. She bunched the covers up around her chin. Natasha smiled.

“You look adorable,” she teased, but didn’t stop moving for the shower.

“Adorable enough for you to come back to bed for ten more minutes?”

“Not even close.”

When Lucy sat with Davy alone in the cafeteria, huddled into a corner, it felt wrong. She was with one of the few people she felt safe with, and they were having a good time, and eating good food, and it felt wrong.

When Natasha sat with Malcolm and his friends at a crowded, loud table, it felt wrong. Everyone was laughing and telling stories and she had a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders. And it just felt wrong.

What felt right was stolen moments in their room, holding hands under the guise of “best friends”, sneaking away into supply closets during dances.

What felt right was exactly what everyone else said wasn’t.

“Lucy, you know that I have no control over it! I have to marry him. It’s not my decision!”

“Of course it’s your decision!” Lucy cried, shoving Natasha away from her. She stood up off the bed so quickly she got dizzy. “You can do whatever you bloody well want!”

“Lucy, you don’t understand. I have to carry on the Pitch name. I have to marry one of the Grimms to secure family ties. It’s not a choice that I get to make, it’s been made for me for a long time.”

“I understand perfectly,” Lucy snarled, snatching her discarded skirt from the foot of the bed and pulling it up over her legs. “I’m not good enough for you or your stupid family, because I’m a girl. Because I’m not high status. I under-fucking-stand alright.”

“Don’t make this difficult,” Natasha started, standing up and walking towards her. Lucy lashed out, smacking her hand away.

“Don’t touch me!” Lucy sobbed. “You already made it difficult. It’s always been difficult.”

“That’s why we can’t do it anymore,” Natasha sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I love you, Lucy, you know that…”

“If you loved me,” Lucy whispered. “Then you would show me.”

“How do you expect me to do that? I’m risking everything for you already!”

“Show me by telling Malcolm that it isn’t going to work out.” She spat the name like poison on her tongue. “Show me by telling your parents that Fiona can pass on the bloody Pitch name.”

Natasha sat back down. “Lucy,” she tried, but it sounded wrong. It sounded strangled and choked, like a dying thought.

“I just want you to love me like I deserve, Tasha. I love you that way.”

“That’s why I have to stop. Because you deserve so much that I can’t give,” They were both crying now, the tears running hot down Natasha’s face. “I love you, but I love Malcolm, too, and I love my family.”

“Since when do you love him? Last I heard, you thought he had the personality of a piece of stale bread.”

“He’s different once you get to know him, I swear. He’s gentle and kind and… And he’s what I’m meant to have.” The last word broke, and with it went Lucy’s last straw.

“Alright. You’ve made yourself clear. I’ll leave. I’ll never talk about it again.” She paused, gauging Natasha’s reaction, but the other girl didn’t move a muscle. She just stared down at her knees in shame. “But don’t expect us to be friends. I never wanted to be ‘just friends’ with you, Tasha. I’m never going to want that.”

She went to the door and opened it, lingering for a second, hoping, praying to be called back. But she knew it was done. Natasha had made up her mind, and she’d probably made the right choice. Malcolm was the easier way, the one that made the most sense.

Lucy had always been a fluke.

Two boys kissed, sprawled out on a couch with a fire roaring quiet and steady in the old-fashioned fireplace. One was tall, with dark hair that fell over his face in waves. His jaw was sharp, his bones as thin and finely shaped as the stems of goblets. The other was rougher, with tumbling golden curls and smiling blue eyes. His t-shirt had a spaghetti stain on the front of it. Both looked just like their mothers.

Lois: “What matters is that you’ll be the only person in that position who will ever give a crap about people like us. We’ve been getting the short end of the stick for thousands of years, and I, for one am sick of it. So you’re going to be president mister and that’s final.”

Malcolm: “Did it ever occur to you that i could’ve taken this job, gotten really rich and then bought my way into being president?”

Lois: “Of course it did. We decided against it. Because then you wouldn’t be a good president. You wouldn’t have suffered enough.”

Malcolm:“I’ve been suffering all my life!”

Lois:“I’m sorry. It’s just not enough. You know how it’s like to be poor, and you know how it’s like to work hard. Now you’re going to learn what it’s like to sweep floors and bust your ass and accomplish twice as much as all the other kids around you. And it won’t mean anything because they will still look down on you. And you will want so much for them to like you, and they just won’t. And that’ll break your heart and that’ll make your heart bigger and open your eyes and finally you will realize that there’s more to life than proving you’re the smartest person in the world. I’m sorry, Malcolm, but you don’t get the easy path. You don’t get to have fun and be rich and live the life of luxury.”

Malcolm:“This is unbelievable, you actually expect me to become president. No, no, I’m sorry. You expect me to be one of the greatest presidents in the history of” the United States.”

Lois:“You look me in the eye, and you tell me you can’t do it.”

Fighters for revolution and liberation must be brave against the intent of the state to crush us out. Revolution depends on the masses of people concretely, and we’re often childish and foolish figures in comparison to the masses themselves. However dedication and immersion into the people, learning from them, and committing oneself to struggle can allow us to help organize and lead the masses against the reactionary classes.

While these three figures [Ho Chi Minh, Malcolm X, and Yuri Kochiyama] are mere individuals, remarkable figures they’re in history, precisely because of their dedication of their life in fighting colonialism and imperialism concretely. But this means one needs to prepare for struggle and emulate characters by virtue of revolutionary practice, not mere idolization. How many young people we know today who laud these figures but yet actively do nothing with their relative freedom to conduct work for liberation?

This idol culture must be changed and it can only be done so by looking reality in the face with them about our position today. These figures had no special caliber above anyone else and are made of flesh and bone. Ho lived his life in obscurity and in perpetual hiding losing all sorts of privilege to be gained if he simply bought in with colonialism. Malcolm ended up being murdered by the agents of US imperialism and proto-fascists for standing his ground in fighting for new organizational direction of an emerging Black liberation movement.

Yuri Kochiyama has spent all her decades fighting alongside the people, driven by her solidarity with those who face the harsh repression of the state. It is hard to brave such things and harder to stay committed towards transformation which means liberation for the world’s oppressed and exploited majority. There are of course many questions that need be answered; however it is certain that we won’t win anything if we keep to an impoverished line that refuses to ultimately commit to the prospects of losing one’s life in this struggle.

And with those have too much to lose or perhaps are too frightened at the prospect of such things, there needs to be a network of support to those comrades who are ultimately heading towards this direction and already face the state. Revolution is in the end not a dinner party. It is where one class overthrows and liquidates another, how will that happen?
—  Neftali, “May 19: Celebrating the Lives of Ho Chi Minh, Malcolm X, and Yuri Kochiyama!”
So I got to listen and talk to Jane Elliott last Tuesday

and it was completely amazing. I mean, this woman is 81 years old and is still educating people on equal rights. Even though I’m always educating myself on these topics I learned a couple more things from her. (I knew I would considering she’s so experienced and has a lot to offer.) But when it came time to ask her questions I was really nervous. I didn’t want to say anything that was ignorant and make her mad at me. When I finally got the courage to talk to her my first question was, “Why is it easier for people to recognize discrimination against African Americans over Native Americans?” This is something that has always confused me and I never understood why if discriminating against one ethnicity is bad, why is it okay to do towards another ethnicity? Wouldn’t common sense tell you that you shouldn’t discriminate against any ethnicity? 
Her answer shocked me because it was so simple and obvious. She said because whites see Native Americans as conquered. They took their land, their culture, their language, and their lives. Native Americans only make up about 1% of the population in America and whites see that as a success. Of course, they don’t realize that’s how they feel but from the generations upon generations of their ancestors feeling that way, it’s subliminal and sneaky.

Whites don’t teach but a paragraph about Native Americans in history books and you don’t have to learn anything about other cultures in America unless you take an extra writing class that isn’t required to have in order to graduate. And when you do get taught about racial issues in the states, the teachers pass out books that limit the truth by saying these social issues were resolved in the ‘60’s and no longer exist. You learn about Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr, basically all the black American activists. You’re never taught about Occupy Alcatraz or Wounded Knee. No one ever informs you of Russell Means or Leonard Peltier. 
So, not only are whites uneducated about Native American activists and examples in history where those people have made a difference, but because they are uneducated about these situations it totally deletes those actions in history. To majority of whites, Occupy Alcatraz never happened. 

That’s why whites think the Washington name should have been demanded way earlier in history. I hear so many ignorant people say that if it was such a big deal, why weren’t they fighting for the name to be changed a while ago. But the thing is, Native Americans have been fighting for the name change since the '60’s. And only now has something been done about this team name. And the only thing that has changed is now anyone can use that name and logo! 54 years later and now anyone can use that name/logo. What a fucked up world we live in. 

But since I’m part of this society, it’s my responsibility to change myself for the better and advocate others to do the same. And whoever reads this, it’s your responsibility as well. 

anonymous asked:

what hogwarts houses do you think the arrow characters belong to? i've always seen john as a gryffindor and felicity as ravenclaw. i know many ppl see felicity as hufflepuff, but i actually see some slytherin traits on her too.

Oh man. Probably not everybody’s gonna agree with this, but here goes.

Felicity: Banish the idea that Slytherin = Evil/Asshole. Felicity Smoak is a Slytherin tried and true; her morals come only in shades of gray, though she is strong in her convictions. She is a hero, a fighter, and doesn’t mind at all about breaking rules or undermining authorities or establishment systems to seek what she calls justice. She is fiercely protective of the people she allows close to her–not a large number–and is salient with dropping bodies and blood on her hands if it’s in pursuit of her goals. She is ambitious, fiercely, pragmatically intelligent, and a rulebreaker by nature, casually bypassing accepted norms for boredom, for her version of right, for the protection of her loved ones. Some Slytherins are heroes.

Oliver: I’m of the possibly unconventional opinion that as a person grows and changes, their Hogwarts alignment shifts with them. Before the Gambit went down, soft, asshole Ollie Queen was very likely a Gryffindor. But after? Oliver Queen is a Slytherin. Heroism and altruism do not come naturally to him. Oliver’s selfish, even still often self-absorbed; it’s not until the justice he, as a byproduct, gives to those wronged means something specifically to him that he even sees it. Before that it is merely a vendetta, a mission, a charge laid on him by his father. It is a list of names of bodies to be buried. However, being a Slytherin and not being a natural idealist and altruist doesn’t make Oliver any less a hero. If anything, it may make him more of one, as he has to consciously choose and pursue this path, and deliberately keep in sight why it is a worthy pursuit.

Diggle: John Diggle is a Hufflepuff to his truehearted core. Some would probably argue with me that his bravery and toughness should make him a Gryffindor, but Digg’s got one hell of a moral code, and though through his trials and hurts it has become guarded, his heart is warm and kind. He’s got a cool head and has always done what he does–has always been some form of hero–because others need someone to be one, so he’ll step up. Family–blood or bound–is incredibly important to him, and he’ll protect them with his life–in wisdom, with his body, and sometimes from themselves. The true moral compass of Team Arrow, that line of conscience drawn in the more shifting sands of his partners, John Diggle will guide them true, and bring them all home safe and sound or die trying.

Sara: Sara Lance, many would likely argue is a Slytherin. Others might declare her a Gryffindor, but Sara is a Huffelpuff, and always has been. When she was younger and softer and less scarred, she wanted to be a doctor, to heal people. She believed love was the highest truth one could hold to–and still does–so much so she risked and lost much over what she believed she had to pursue–the truth of her heart. Even though it meant hurting her sister, whom she did love. (Hufflepuffs make bad choices, too, sometimes.) And yet even through hell, even made a killer and having survived such incredible pain, Sara chose a path of heroism, even if she didn’t call it that, even if she couldn’t see herself that way. Because it wasn’t about being a hero; it was about protecting others from the harm that had been done to her. “No woman should suffer at the hands of men.” Hufflepuff Sara Lance may have been guided down darker paths, but her feet always led her back into the light.

Roy: Roy Harper is such a damn Gryffindor it’s almost hilarious. Brave and bold, to the point of recklessness, he’s an idealist who dreams of heroism, who held himself to a higher standard than he could afford to measure against. He was impressed by Oliver’s heroism and sought so hard to emulate it, he bent the world around him–the law, the truth, the boundaries of his relationship with Thea–to bring himself closer to that bright, glorious goal. Roy very much believes in the symbols of what he and the others do. The hood, the mask, the bow, they are representative of grand ideals that fill his chest with pride and purpose. He’s a hero with a gold heart and a really thick skull, and both cost him time and again. But he makes the sacrifices over and over, because it’s What Heroes Do.

Thea: Thea Queen is a Slytherin of that neutral order. No idealist, no grand protector, she is a survivor who will go to great lengths to protect and save–herself, and the ones she loves. The ones who love her back and don’t betray her or deceive her. And yet she doesn’t wish anyone else any harm; she just wants to live her own life, to not just survive, but thrive, and she will mow down those who stand in her way if they don’t heed her warning to step out of it. But even in this pursuit, Thea still tries her best not to hurt others, to not deal the kind of lasting damage that has been dumped on her shoulders since they were too slender for the weight. And if you threaten those she deems hers, threaten those in her sight or care, she’ll show you she’s her mother’s daughter–daughter of what may as well be the stereotypical Slytherin Archetype, Moira Queen.

Tommy: Tommy Merlyn is a Hufflepuff to the very bone. His life and privilege insulated him and created in him a great deal of selfishness, but even with a storm of elements brewing in his whole history to turn him into the sort of Slytherin dark whispers are made of, he has always been a kind charmer who wanted nothing, absolutely nothing more in his life than love. Than family and friendship and loyalty. Cruelty was no habit of his–though likely, given his father, a carefully honed instinct and skill to be rarely used–and he’d throw himself between others and pain with barely a hesitation–with none at all if he loved them. With the kind of loyalty and true heart that put him between Oliver and a beatdown; that drew him across the globe in search of his best friend two years after others had given him up for dead; that told him to put himself in the role of Thea’s big brother because Oliver would have wanted it, because Thea needed it; that lead him to die for the woman he loved even as he knew she may love someone else, Tommy Merlyn is one of the Hufflepuffiest Hufflepuffs to ever huffle a puff.

Laurel: Laurel Lance is one full up of traits from two houses, who could have gone either way. Ambitious and shrewd, willing to bend rules when they no longer work in the ways she believes they should, Laurel could have been a Slytherin quite easily. She is, however, a Gryffindor by choice. She is an idealist who has believed in Right and Wrong so black and white that the shades of gray have made her life more difficult than it should have been. Learning those nuances has cost her, but it’s also made her smarter, and if anything, more determined to strive for what she still believes is Right. Empathetic but not altruistic, Laurel has always wanted to fight the good fight for the underserved, but has also always kept in mind what she needs out of it. And each time life darkens her, presents her the opportunity to become the bitter villain, even when she has faltered, Laurel has chosen to walk the path of the just.

Malcolm: Voldemort


Request: Imagine being Malcolm’s protégé 

You couldn’t help but frown as you followed Malcolm down to what would be your new homes. You had been there with him throughout everything, from his plans for the Glades to uniting him with his daughter, but this was different. The scale of this was beyond anything you ever could have imagined, and for once you weren’t entirely certain your boss and mentor was doing what was best. Of course, many would argue that he hadn’t done the right thing when it came to the Glades either, and while you didn’t exactly agree to mass murder, you could at least see where he was coming from. But this was different, this was the entire world.

“Y/N” Malcolm drew you from your thoughts, holding his arm out for you as you reached a staircase leading down. “You seem distracted” he points out with something akin to a smile.

“I’m fine” you reassure, smiling back at him as your hand wraps around his arm.

“You’re thinking about all the people who will die” Malcolm nods knowingly. “I would be worried if you weren't” he whispers conspiratorially, making you smile, no matter how bleak things seemed, he could always make you smile, it was one of the main reasons you had stuck by him for so long. “I’m not going to lie, Y/N, many will die, but we will live.”

“Do we deserve to?” the question left your lips before you had a chance to stop it, and you couldn’t help but cringe at your own words. You had never questioned Malcolm, at least, not out loud. But as your gaze lands upon Malcolm you’re surprised at the look you receive. There is no anger, no disappointment, only a sad recognition of your words.

“The world needs a do over, you know this. There is so much evil, so much violence… this will give us that chance” he replies, not touching your question. A moment passes and you think you won’t get an answer, but as Malcolm continues to lead you down the stairs he starts once more. “We can not always stop what is coming, but we can make sure that we, and our loved ones, are safe.”


Today in TTOI History: July 5th, 2012, the day it all ends for Malcolm and almost four years later I’m still brb crying forever

Here’s my post from last year which pretty much STILL sums it up for me plus it has Malcolm running. 

I should say though that as much as I dislike the episode as a whole*, I am still absolutely blown away by this particular scene where Malcolm absolutely lays bare the terrible price he’s paid for doing The Job.

*which a whole lot [insert sound of laugh track here]

I’m blown away despite not believing for one second that Ollie a) even really wants Malcolm’s job or b) that the show up-to-this-point EVER showed him wanting Malcolm’s job. 

What Ollie wanted – what he had consistently wanted since 103 – was to be Dan Miller’s boyfriend Glenn NOT Dan Miller’s Malcolm and at this late stage I think it is little weird that the roles of special advisor and director of communications are suddenly combined when there is no real reason except to set up WHY Malcolm would so comprehensively reveal his soul (what was left of it) to Ollie.

(Of course even if Ollie did want The Job, what happened to Malcolm wouldn’t happen to him. The Job destroyed Malcolm because he DOES feel things, but I don’t think that’s going to be so much of a problem for Mr Reeder.  I mean, I’m sure Ollie IS going to fail and in very short order too, but more because of his general  uselessness than because of anything else.)

But whatever, if a somewhat dubious premise what was needed to get us the amazing Malcolm scene I think I should just shut up and accept it since otherwise, for most of the rest of the episode, THIS is a lot closer to my reaction:

Love Online - Chapter 6

This is a continuation of Love Online. You can find previous chapters linked here:  [ Chapter 1]  [Chapter 2]  [Chapter 3]  [Chapter 4]  [Chapter 5]


Jamie and Claire had spent a very happy weekend at Lallybroch, enjoying the warmth of family and each other.  They had made a concerted effort to behave themselves over the weekend and managed to - except for a brief interlude in the barn.

Jamie had taken Claire for a walk around the grounds of the estate, showing her the ancient tower and the loch nearby, as well as the old crofter’s cottages, long abandoned and dilapidated.  But he knew that she could feel the spirit of the place and the people who had once lived there, so long ago.  

After their walk, Jamie took Claire to the barn to see to the horses.  He had loved horses all his life, and Claire could see that he was very good with them.  He was so loving and gentle with the beautiful beasts.  His soft voice soothed them and Claire found herself soothed as well.

Jamie looked at her.  Seeing her expression of love and admiration, he moved to her automatically and was with her in a moment.  He kissed her gently, wrapping his arms around her.  She put her arms around his neck and brought his mouth closer, deepening the kiss.  Their breath started getting faster as their passion grew.  Jamie’s hands roamed over her, finding their favorite perch atop her rounded arse.

Claire moaned as she felt the muscles of his back through his shirt, then she pulled the shirt up just enough to run her hands across his bare chest.  “God, you feel good, Jamie.  I can’t wait to have you.  All of you.”

He groaned as if in pain, trying very hard not to start undressing her.  He wanted to…God, how he wanted to.  “Claire…oh, Jesus!” he said, as her hand made its way to the front of his jeans.  He felt him over his clothes, and it was quite clear that he wanted her.

“God, Jamie.  I need you.”  Knowing she was making it more difficult for him, she moved her hands back to his waist.

“Claire, by God I must have you soon.  VERY soon.”  His hand cupped her breast over her clothes and squeezed gently before wrapping his arms around her once more.

“I’m ready, Jamie, whenever you are.”

He looked at her with an expression of intense need.  “Aye, love.  But not here at Lallybroch.  Not yet.  We will be together, I promise.  In Glasgow.”

They kissed a little longer, then straightened their clothes before heading back to the house.  On Sunday, they left to go back to Glasgow.

They made it back to Claire’s place that night.  Jamie set down her luggage and gave her a goodnight kiss.

“Can’t you stay, Jamie?”

“As much as I want to, I canna.  You have work tomorrow and so do I.  I don’t want to rush things when we are finally together.  I want it to be special.”

She loved him even more for wanting to take the time to love her - the right way.  She didn’t want to rush it either, no matter how much her body needed him.

“Claire, I do want ye.  I want ye so much.  It pains me to leave ye tonight, but I must.  Perhaps…” he said, hesitating.

“Yes?” Claire said, hopeful.

“Weel, perhaps we could plan to have dinner again Friday night and then…we could…”

Claire’s eyes got wide.  “You mean it, Jamie?”

“Aye, I do.  If ye are willing.”

She kissed him, happily.  “Of course I’m willing!  I love you and want you so much.”

He smiled then, leaving her with a tender kiss, full of love and the promise of what was to come.

Two days later, Jamie met Ian at the pub when he got off work.  He needed to talk to his friend about the monumental decision he had made.

“Ian,” Jamie said, pausing to take a drink of ale, “I want to ask ye something.”

“Aye, Jamie.”

“Weel, I think Claire and I are ready…to take the next step.”

“You mean…” Ian said, raising his eyebrows, “ye are going to lie with her?”

“Well, aye, I think so.  It’s getting too hard to wait, Ian.  I’m sure ye ken how it is.”

Ian said, cautiously, “Aye, I do.  But I’m guessing ye don’t want me to talk about it with ye since it has to do with Jenny, aye?”

“Please don’t,” Jamie said, laughing.

“What did ye want to ask me?”

“Weel, Da gave me my Mam’s ring to give to Claire.  I want to ask her to marry me.  Do ye think it’s too soon?”

Ian smiled broadly and patted him on the shoulder.  “Oh, Jamie, lad.  That’s wonderful!  As to whether it’s too soon, only you can answer that.  I’ll tell ye, though, if ye have found the love of your life, why wait?”

Jamie’s smile widened and it lit up his face.  “Thank ye, brother.  My thoughts exactly.”

After an endless week of anticipation, Friday finally came.  Jamie was going to pick up Claire for dinner.  He arrived right on time, but instead of taking her out, he had surprised her by bringing dinner to her.  He had brought an Italian feast, complete with good wine and an impossibly luscious chocolate mousse for dessert.

“How wonderful, Jamie!  This is perfect.  A nice quiet dinner at home…alone.”

He reached across the table, taking her hand.  “Aye, I thought that maybe tonight it would be nice to stay at home.”  

He looked deeply in her eyes, showing her the depth of his heart.  She returned the look, gazing into the blue depths, reaching into his soul.  They both knew that their life would change tonight, and it would be glorious.

After dinner, Jamie said, “Do ye want dessert now?”

“Not just yet, love.”  She pulled out her chair and came over to him, sitting on his lap. She had worn another short skirt, showing her legs to great advantage.  He ran his hand over the smooth skin of her thigh and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

“My God, Claire.  You are incredible.”  His hand ventured a little higher up her leg, then stopped.  “Claire, are ye sure ye want to go through with this?”

“Yes, Jamie.  Oh, yes.  I love you with all my heart.  I want this.  Don’t you?”

“Christ, Claire.  I’ve been burning for you for weeks now.  I want ye so much that it has consumed me.”

She leaned to kiss him again, more passionately.  She stood up, then, and said, “Shall we?”

He stood as well, holding her hands in his.  “Claire, if I stay with ye tonight, it means forever.  You know that, don’t you?”

She looked at him intently, her eyes searching his, and said, “I know it, Jamie.  It’s always been forever for me.”

He put his arms around her and pulled her close, kissing her with all the love he felt in that moment.  Then he stopped and stood back a bit, kneeling down on one knee.  Taking her hands in his, he said, “I love you, Claire, with everything I am.  I want to be with you always.  Will you marry me?”

Claire gasped.  She wasn’t expecting this.  She was speechless, her mouth hung open in surprise.  Finally, she regained her composure, looked down at him with loving tears in her eyes and said, “Oh, yes!  Yes!  I’ll marry you.”

He smiled broadly and tears rolled down his face as he stood before her again, taking the small box out of his coat pocket.  “In that case, I want ye to have this.”  He opened the box and removed the small silver circlet.  He held her hand, sliding the ring onto her finger.

“Jamie, it’s beautiful,” she said, looking down at it in awe.

“It was my mother’s ring, Claire.  It’s very precious to me, as are you.”

She hugged him tightly, as if trying to take him into herself.  “Jamie,” she sobbed into his neck.

Jamie smiled through his own tears, giddy with love and happiness.  After a long moment, he looked at her again, intently.

“Claire, I want to lie with ye tonight.  But before we do, would ye be willing to do something for me?”

“Anything, Jamie.”

“There’s an old Scottish tradition with regards to marriage.  It’s called handfasting.”

“Yes, I have heard of it.  It’s not legally binding anymore though, is it?”

“No, but that doesna matter right now.  Will ye be handfast with me, just until we can be properly wed?”

“Of course, Jamie, I would be honored.”

“Do ye have a cord or a scarf of some kind?”

Claire nodded and went to the closet, bringing out a silk scarf.  They maneuvered awkwardly to tie the scarf around their joined wrists, then stood facing each other.

“I, James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser, take thee, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp to be my wife.  I will love, honor, and cherish you through this life, into the next, and through all eternity.  You are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone. I give you my Body, that we Two might be One. I give you my Spirit, until our Life shall be Done.“

Claire’s eyes were full of tears at his beautiful words.  “Oh, Jamie,” she cried.

“Now, ye can repeat the words.”

Claire started repeating the beautiful passage, with occasional assistance from Jamie.

“I, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, take thee, James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser…”

When she concluded the passage, they held each other close for a moment before leaning in for a tender, loving kiss, sealing the union they had made.

“Now, you are my wife, even without the paper.  We will take care of that later.  For now…”

He untied their wrists, then bent down to pick her up into his arms.  “Now, my love, I will give ye my Body, that we Two might be One,”  he said, as he carried her down the hall to her room.

while we’re on the subject of shitty depressing au ideas, though:

outlander!eirn on iokath, not really jazzed at the thought of letting any superpower get its grubby mitts on iokath’s toys and, as with the eternal throne/fleet, would rather nuke the lot of it from space rather than be railroaded into acquiring it

however, while the republic are an ancient enemy of her people, a) her people are shitters, and b) something’s Definitely Not Right with acina these days. oh, and c, her supposed husband apparently meant ‘barely acknowledge your presence after a year+ of unwanted publicity’ when he claimed that he would do anything to find her, ‘even if it killed him’ - so malcolm it is, as small-minded as that decision-making process is

her supposed husband, of course, takes issue with this - more because she’s betraying the empire, by all appearances, than any personal stake in the issue at hand and all she can angrily think about in the moments of quiet that force themselves between the explosions are all other times that the empire mattered more than its people did, never mind than she did

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anonymous asked:

Who do you think loves who more--Rick or Michonne?? I do think they're in love, but I can't decide :/


Originally posted by tonikray95

Well, when I really think of it…

Rick and Michonne are equals in all things, and I’m going to go ahead and say I think they’re equal here, too.  

When I think of the level of joy he’s brought her by merely looking at her, kissing her–

Or the level of loss and sorrow he felt when he realized she was in danger, needing his help–

Or her panic when he lost himself, going out into that herd alone–

Or his joy at realizing that yes, she wanted this–wanted him, too…

I can’t help but say they’re equals.  

Still, Rick totally fell for her first, and fast, and hard.  There has to be a better way to phrase that, but…you catch my drift.

[If you recognize a gif you made, holla at me for a credit]

ETA:  Rick loves Michonne just a little bit more than she loves him, I think.

There was an ep of Malcolm in the Middle where Hal says, “Of course I love you more. If you loved me as much as I love you, we’d never get anything done,” or something to that effect. And I think that holds true. That scene in “East” is an excellent example. Rick would be perfectly fine lying in bed with her all day and all night into the next day. He needs to be near her…needs it.

Omg, I love them so much.

Lucifer Season 2 and beyond

[updated 5/9/16, up to 50]

Things I want to see / questions I want to know more about:

  1. Lucifer with wings
  2. Lucifer’s fall / rise to LA
  3. Maze’s reactions in the early days following the moment she cut Lucifer’s wings off / the parties that she and Lucifer frequented / how did Lucifer start LUX? Did he win it in a deal?
  4. Dan on trial / Lucifer calling in some favors to help him out.
  5. Does Lucifer have any other brothers/siblings we should know of?
  6. Lucifer should have a sister named Grace, just because I think we should keep killing it with names. The devil with a sister named Grace is the best. I want to audition for the role right now. I’m all in.
  7. Where’s Maze?
  8. Amenadiel searches for Maze
  9. Brotherly tough love between Amenadiel and Lucifer - because I do like a few of their quarrels - and I mean come on, season 1 started with “I look forward to eating your heart one day.” There has been not conflict yet which matches that intensity. I love when they get along and when they fight, a healthy mix seems appropriate for family.
  10. Who is Lucifer’s mother? Angel, Demon, something else? What’s her name? What abilities might she possess, what form might she take, and is she on speaking terms with her son(s)? Does she know about Chloe?
  11. What else, apart from wicked mortal souls, dwells in hell?
  12. Will there be anymore notable parallels to the writings of Sandman? (I like the subtle references so far - like the blonde bit)
  13. How is Doctor Linda Martin going to deal with Amenadiel’s deception? He still owes her some apology. 
  14. How is Amenadiel liking his time on earth/ will he start getting attached to this plane?
  15. Chloe and her dad before he died, and how he died.
  16. Who are Chloe’s friends outside the force, will we meet some, and interesting notion - will Lucifer?
  17. Lucifer, Trixie, and Maze on a school’s day out field trip.
  18. More glimpses from the gates of Hell and within - please tease. Is it going to be Dante-like with layers? Like an onion?
  19. Chloe slowly starting to learn more about Lucifer’s persona, as well as slowly shifting her beliefs on religious ideology, perhaps through seeing and speaking with Linda. I imagine Trixie might have some nightmares after being the focal point of a hostage situation, maybe Chloe takes her to see Dr. Martin for psych advice and ends up getting some regular advice / council of her own.
  20. Girls’ night - Mazikeen, Chloe, Linda
  21. Speaking of girls’ night, most of the cast ladies have gotten to kick butt in the show, which I like! Can we pass some more of that love around to Trixie, after all we didn’t see what went down standing up to mean girl.
  22. Trixie telling her school friends about Lucifer, to their disbelief, until Lucifer proves them wrong.
  23. Is there any more corruption, aka Malcolm’s “friends in the department” in Chloe’s LAPD precinct?
  24. More delving into the themes of what it means to be vulnerable, when it’s good and not, and recovering from betrayal from all the characters’ perspectives.
  25. What else can we learn about Chloe? What makes her vulnerable and why might it be hard for her, like Lucifer, to be that way - what flaws in her soul does she withhold, purposely or otherwise?
  26. Does Lucifer have any other abilities that will be featured - will we see pieces of Samael the light bringer coming through?
  27. What does Lucifer’s mother want more that anything now that she’s free off hell? Was she always in hell or did someone put her there or did she at one point go willingly?
  28. Is Mazikeen going to make more progress in the friends’ department? (while still of course being fiendish)
  29. Any other angelic or demonic weapons lying about?
  30. Is Chloe being “weaponized” against Lucifer? By whom, how, why?
  31. What’s Father’s take on all these shenanigans - boys will be boys?
  32. If Chloe dies, does she go to heaven or hell? Malcolm wanted to send her to hell, but is that where she could possibly go?
  33. Are we going to get more insight as to why people go to hell and/or grey area cases?
  34. Are there going to be any celestial appearances by Father Frank - I miss that guy.
  35. How does time apply to angels as they pass between Earth, Heaven, Hell, and elsewhere in between? Is there going to be an in between?
  36. Can you please fix the logos on your police vehicles so that they read the correct direction please?
  37. Now that Lucifer doesn’t have his Pentecostal coin to play with, does he get a new toy?
  38. What stunts/ fight choreography are you guys thinking about for next season?
  39. Obviously more Tom Ellis at the piano.
  40. Are we going to get any scenery changes? So far our main go-to places have been LUX, Chloe’s house, the precinct, Linda’s office and Lucifer’s loft: are there any other places the devil likes to haunt in LA / familiar human associates (like RIP Delilah) that the devil visits?
  41. Besides mom, any new potentially recurring characters a’coming?
  42. Someone praying for Lucifer or to Lucifer or both, and consequently his reaction
  43. if someone can scare Lucifer, does that means he can also dream/have nightmares? That could be interesting storytelling.
  44. A role reversal in witty comebacks, Lucifer saying “I thought you died” and Chloe saying “well I got better.” I don’t yet know the situation behind this, I just know it should be a thing.
  45. Just out of curiosity what happens when you make the Devil angry? Not in some truly consequential way - something everyday, possibly petty - you cut him off in traffic, steal his parking space, give him the finger, drink his drink…How does Lucifer respond to mortals who just get in his nerves, when cutting them down with verbal insults doesn’t quite cover it.
  46. Lucifer’s mom saying “what do you want more than anything in the world?” and Lucifer despite his best efforts, is compelled to answer, to which mom responds, in a patronizing way, “Your good looks aren’t the only thing you got from me” if they’re on friendly terms with each other OR “You’re so complicated to everyone but me. To me you’re just my son. Lost. Afraid. Powerless” if she’s trying to cut him down.
  47. In season 2, how would Lucifer answer the question “What do you want more than anything?” Would it be “to be my own man, judged for my actions” (1x12) or something more?
  48. Can Chloe effect other celestials adversely, or just Lucifer?
  49. Amenadiel trying to do an earthly job, even just temporarily, instead on moonlighting as a therapist. I’d like to see him try to be a bouncer at LUX for a night.
  50. You know how passionate Lucifer was over his wings in the course of two episodes - and when Chloe finally asked him more about it he said “the wings were only worth what someone was willing to pay for them” -well the price for his wings was obedience. He wasn’t willing to pay that price to be an angel of God, but he was willing to pay in full for Chloe. Are we going to see that connection revisited?
  51. Chloe gets sick with something like a cold or the stomach flu, and powers through it probably to the point of exhaustion, while Lucifer gloats that he doesn’t get sick…until he catches what Chloe has and he feels so miserable that he acts like he’s dying. Chloe tells him to stay home and rest while she finishes the case, but he says “nonsense, you can’t keep a good(looking) man down” because if Chloe is tough enough to work a case then Lucifer is too. And so they’re both sick together.<\li>

More to come surely…


Malcolm, meet the Doctor.  The Doctor, meet Malcolm.

I know you fellows don’t mean to have anything in common –beyond the obvious of course – and yet here we are again with the things that are the same.

(Or, you know, *pretty damn close to it* anyway.)

Maél Choluim  -  OC  -  Indie RP Blog 

A native Elysian Templar from Aion,  using his flight ability to explore new worlds.  Likes Earth so much he is now working as a spin doctor in London.

  • Face Claim: Malcolm Tucker (Peter Capaldi).
  • Personality: Yes to some extend also Malcolm.  

WTF!? Flying Tucker?  So what, is this like only about Flying, Feeding, Fighting and Fucking???”   
Oh, no NO NO, don’t get fooled, Maél Choluim is actually capable of so much  more, he is for example often having extremely deep conversations with the people he meets on his adventures. He is also fiercely protective towards the deserving and loyal to a fault. 

As Maél can travel anywhere I am open to the works really. This blog is about exploration, so anything goes.

  • ​Multiverse and multiship
  • OC, AU and crossover friendly
  • NSFW (tagged, but visible) 
  • Panda Zombies  

Mun is totally friendly by the way, seriously, come chat, she loves to make new friends!.

  • Age: 21+
  • Experience: New to RP but experienced in life (does that even count? of course it does!)
Home   -   About   -   Rules   -   Flight Log  

One of the things that’s really struck me in this replay of DA2 is just how many mothers and mother figures there are in Kirkwall.

Mothers are scarce in video games, especially fantasy ones. Usually, if they do show up, they’re dead, having passed away long before the game ever begins to give the protagonist (usually male) some hard-scrabble sob story. But not in DA2.

To be fair, most, if not all, of the mother figures in DA2 die as well. We all know what happens to Leandra and Marethari, obviously, but Arianni and Evelina meet less than pleasant fates too. (Well, Arianni doesn’t have to die; it depends on your choices.) And of course there’s Varric’s mother, who, though mentioned only in his codex, hangs like a grim shadow over his tale. Dead mother syndrome is alive and well in the Free Marches.

But, that said – you do see a lot more “mothering” in Kirkwall, for lack of a better word, certainly moreso than “fathering”. While most of the fathers are absent, dead or delinquent, like Vincento and Malcolm and Varric’s dad (Thrask is the one great exception), the mothers at least try.  They’re present. They make choices. They give a damn.

And their stories aren’t all the same self-sacrificing martyrdom blah blah hogwash, either. I mean, there’s Aveline, who’s as much a mother bear to her guardsmen as anything else, and who has to learn how to define herself apart from her motherly role. Then there’s Arianni, who desperately tries to save her son; who has already sacrificed so much for Feynriel but yet never resents him or regrets her decision. Of course there’s Marethari, whose codependency with Merrill drives them both to ruin; and then Evelina, who tries so hard to replace the families of the children who’ve lost so much; and the girl in Lirene’s whose mother has gone into early labor, who has already lost a child and can’t lose another; and there’s Fifi du Launcet distraught over her son Emile; and of course Anders talks about magelings being ripped from their mother’s side (but doesn’t see fit to mention their father’s); and there’s Isabela’s tortured relationship with her own mother, who sold her like chattel; and there’s Flemeth, almost proud of a daughter who wants her dead; and Fenris, remembering playing with his sister while their mother worked; and, of course, the big one, the mother of all mothers, Leandra.

So many mothers, so many different kinds: vengeful, loving, neglectful, abusive, grieving, fierce, protective, desperate. Mothers eking out an existence. Mothers caring only for themselves. Mothers doing whatever it takes. 

And I like it.

Conspiracy to Commit

fobbed!Twelve, Rose Tyler

The men of DoSaC make a plan.

Part two of the angsty angstathon that started here.

As always, made awesome by the indefatigable thedoctordanceswithrose

“No, you listen to me, you fucking waste of fucking skin,” Malcolm shouts, getting into Hugh’s face.  “If I hear even the rumor of another misstep by you or any of your department of fucking misfit toys, you’ll be out on your arses so fucking hard you won’t shit comfortably for a fucking decade.  Is that clear?”

“Crystal clear, Malcolm,” Hugh says, genuinely afraid that the director of communications would hit him if he said anything else.

“Get back to fucking work.”

He turns on his heel and stalks away, his PA following behind him.  Hugh lets out a breath as Malcolm yanks open the door and holds his arm out, almost as if he’s going to touch his PA’s back to usher her through the door, but she sidesteps him without looking up from her blackberry.  He stands still a moment, jaw clenched, before following her out of the office.

“That could have gone better,” Hugh observes to Glenn as he makes for his office.  “Christ, it wasn’t even that bad of a mistake.  The figures were barely off!”

“Well, that’s Tucker for you,” Glenn says as he and Ollie follow Hugh into his office.  “Mind you, he does seem to be in rare form lately.”

“Maybe Hell demanded a refund on his soul,” Ollie suggests, slumping into a chair.

“You know, just once, I’d like to see him in the hot seat,” Hugh says.  “He bollocks his way through the cabinet backward and forward twice a week–”

“Because the cabinet is full of cock ups,” Ollie interjects.

“–but no one ever sees him getting his arse ripped open,” Hugh finishes.  “And I’ll thank you to remember that I’m part of that cabinet, Ollie.”

“I know.”

“I see what you mean, though, Hugh,” Glenn says after an uncomfortable beat.

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Another important piece of the Malcolm Tucker origin story.

Of all the things America has given to the world…this is perhaps from the more unexpected end of the scale*.   

What I find most interesting about it, is 1) the distinction Peter makes between the Real Life people who certainly inspired the FACT of Malcolm’s particular job in TTOI Downing Street, but who didn’t in any specific way inspire HOW Malcolm carried out that job, but even more than that

2) how it fits in with something Peter says in one of the early TTOI episode commentaries where he talks about realizing that Malcolm’s shouting and swearing doesn’t cost him anything in the emotional sense. 

He absolutely means it when he’s doing it, but for Malcolm (at least in the good old days) it was just a performance of rage in a particular moment for a particular purpose and when that moment passed he could be all charm and smiles again.

(Poor Hugh)

Although sometimes of course the charm and smiles is completely in anticipation of the shouting yet to come. 

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