pissants

10

False Advertising: Thranduil

For my money, Thranduil is the best option—not necessarily to kill Bolg, but to be in that helping-Thorn/parallel fight position. Because seriously, that conflict between Thorin and Thranduil needs a resolution.

Unfortunately, I suspect this never occurred to the PTB because they don’t see Thranduil as a person. More a device. And his purpose in AUJ and DOS was make Thorin look like the most put-upon underdog, who is just treated so unfairly.

But if they’d treated Thranduil like the significant supporting character that he is, developed that conflict between him and Thorin—and all it implied—then keeping Thranduil on Ravenhill (alone or with his army), provides optimal fulfillment/resolution to what came before.

Even without development, though, Thranduil going up to Ravenhill sooner just has more oomph than whatever they think they’re doing with Legolas.

2

Something I’ve never noticed before.

Watch the little grimace Bucky makes after he says, “But I knew him.” 

And then watch his expression after he says, “My name is Bucky.” 

It’s harder to see in the CACW scene because he’s looking down, but it’s the same expression.

In the bank vault, he has a question… he knew that man on the bridge. He heard the name Bucky and he felt reality as he knew it shift and he’s still trying to lock onto fleeting images in his mind, images he doesn’t know are actual memories. He only knows he wants an answer and is willing to endure pain from a beating to get it. That’s Bucky, quietly, stubbornly, adamantly refusing to be denied.

And with Zemo, Bucky knows a lot more about who he is and what he chooses to call himself, and it’s not James, at least not as this little pissant of a psychiatrist is using it. Again, that’s Bucky, quietly, stubbornly, adamantly refusing to be denied.

Seb knows this character, down to the smallest detail. 

10

oh, Legolas, your time will come

Thranduil Has a Type

Stormpilot: Gay Cowboy Style

Poe Dameron.

Most notorious outlaw West of the Mississippi. Maybe East of it as well. He wouldn’t know. Never had much cause to go back that way.

It was unsurprising, given his parentage. Ma’s brains and pa’s shooting were the two gifts they’d left him before they passed, and they’d served him well all his life.

He’d been more or less on his own ever since. He partnered up when it suited him, but extending trust too far had taught him lessons early on he wasn’t likely to forget, and once he cleared adolescence he made it policy never to let anyone get too close.

He was a rogue of the West, and spent his days creating headaches and causing trouble for the men he deemed unfit to lead, relieving them of goods and wealth he didn’t think they deserved. He spent his days helping folk who needed it- and helping himself when he needed it- and always staying one step ahead of the law.

He never expected one day he’d be in desperate need of help from someone else.

And he most definitely never expected that help to come from a deputy of the most corrupt sheriff the West had ever seen.

Poe had a tendency to walk into every town like he owned the place. It didn’t always serve him well, but who didn’t love a good bar brawl now and then? Got the juices flowin’. Made a man feel alive.

Still, he was forced to admit it may have been a poor move, heading into the township of Sheriff Ren with an excess of swagger and a defect of fear… especially given their history, and how much of a rotten pissant the man was.

Poe had a tendency to walk into every town like he owned the place. It didn’t always serve him well, but who didn’t love a good bar brawl now and then? Got the juices flowin’. Made a man feel alive.

Still, he was forced to admit it may have been a poor move, heading into the township of Sheriff Ren with an excess of swagger and a defect of fear… especially given their history, and how much of a rotten pissant the man was.

Sure enough, he’d only just finished his first whiskey and started scoping about for the right kind of gamblers to swindle out of their gold (trying to be too intrigued by that guy in the corner by himself, drinking quietly with his head down and what look’s like the weight of the world on his shoulders), when the cavalry arrived, a veritable storm of bounty hunters, deputies and average folk wanting a piece of the prize. They clutched wanted posters and pistols in their fists and had dollar signs in their eyes.

Goddamn.

He gave them a run for their money. At least he liked to tell himself as much when he thought back on it years later, but the men he’d rode into town with proved yellow as soon as the first wave of hunters came into the saloon. Turned tail faster than a beat dog.

Not surprising.

Poe had a knack for getting himself out of dicey situations, usually through the use of his considerable wit, charm and his blessedly dashing looks. Sadly, it seemed talking his way out of this one wasn’t going to work for once. Sheriff Ren had lost a whole lot of good money on account of Poe, and he was not the forgiving type.

Poe’s luck, it seemed, had finally caught up with him.

___

He was set to be hanged at high noon, but the noose never touched his neck.

Not, sadly, due to any ingenious plan of his own, but by the mercy of a complete stranger.

The most courageous and hopelessly naive man he’d ever come across in his life or probably ever would again.

His goddamn hero.

Finn.

They escaped by the skin of their teeth and headed into the wilds. Poe was pretty banged up, courtesy of Sheriff Kylo Ren and his lackeys, but there was air in his lungs and blood still pumped in his veins, and for that he was infinitely grateful. He also had a certain amount of gratitude for the gentleness of the courageous stranger’s hands, and the way he doctored Poe’s wounds with such patience and care, never once commenting if Poe winced or cried out in pain.

He tried not to dwell on that bit, and managed for the most part.

The Sheriff, it seemed, was not a man to be trifled with. For Poe to have crossed him not once but twice and still be breathing was already more than he could handle. That he’d managed to escape through betrayal by one of his own deputies was more than he could bear.

He pursued them relentlessly.

With such enormous targets on their backs, it only made sense to stick together, to watch one another’s until the danger passed.

Just for a while, Poe told himself.

‘Til they got far enough away Ren would give up, if that ever happened.

In the mean time, Finn was doing this really unsettling thing where he was acting like a good man and it was doing a number on Poe’s carefully constructed walls. He had determined long before meeting Finn that that such men didn’t exist, or were few and far between. He tried not to like him overmuch, but you can’t be around that kind of relentless earnestness and not be affected by it.

In a thousand little ways, without even knowing it Finn seemed dead set on shaking him up and proving his closely held beliefs wrong.

He did it again and again, and Poe was powerless to stop it. He did it with his easy laugh, or the way it just seemed so easy for him to dole out kindness. In the way he tended to horses, always chattering away to them as he did, calling them pretty when they were good and chastising them when they weren’t. In the way he always offered up peppermint or licorice when he got a stash in town, or the way his eyes sparkled with enjoyment when he and Poe argued about the merits (or lack thereof) of licorice, or whatever silly thing they picked to fill up the quiet.

He didn’t even make it a week before he started thinking of Finn as the best damn friend he’d ever had.

 

It had been over a year since Finn cut him down from the gallows and out of the jaws of death.

Ren stopped chasing them, or at least lost their trail, but they never did manage to part ways. At this point, Poe was certain the only way Finn would ever get rid of him would be if he decided to pump him full of bullets and leave him for dead.

Dammit, even if he did that (not that Poe could even imagine it), Poe was sure he’d crawl across the entire fucking desert just to look him in the eyes and ask him why.

Finn wasn’t just his friend any more.

He wanted him to be, desperately but more than half a year ago, things had started to get twisted up in Poe’s head and he couldn’t untangle them. Maybe longer ago than that.

He tried not to think about it, and by day they were usually too busy outrunning and outgunning trouble for him to fret about it. But by night, the yearning had started to creep in, and it was all Finn’s goddamn fault.

Finn was too goddamn soft.

It was impossible not to think about him in the kinda way a man shouldn’t think about another. His eyes were kind and his laugh was easy, and Poe spent so much time just trying to avert his gaze, to push down the longing so he wouldn’t act like a damn fool and scare off the best thing that ever happened to him. Because that’s what Finn was.

The kind of man who’d take a bullet for you without a second thought. The kind of man you could tell things to, things Poe never thought he’d say out loud to anyone. Things about his parents, or the things Poe did to survive in the first few years after their passing. Things he never wanted to say, things he never thought he could, seemed to just come out of him when he looked at chocolate colored eyes gleaming in the firelight, sensitive and patient.

Stopping the thing inside him is impossible, Poe knew that. Poe didn’t think anyone who lived a life in such shadow could come into contact with the light that was Finn and not come ti love him with every last bit of themselves.

Stopping such feelings was more than impossible, but controlling them wasn’t. At nights, he laid awake and thought about what Finn’s strong arms would feel like around him, what those beautiful hands would feel like on his body, but by days he smiled at him but never for too long.


And then one night at their campfire, when the ache had gotten so bad that Poe thought he might just get on his horse and ride away and never look back, Finn simply leaned over and pressed his lips against Poe’s. It was gentle and his lips were soft, and it lasted only seconds before he pulled back and fixed Poe with a stare that was equal parts heated and terrified.

Poe’s heart nearly stopped and his brain worked overtime trying to catch up on what had just happened, that brief, beautiful and entirely unexpected thing.

They’d run outta whiskey two nights before, so there was no way he could blame it on…

So that meant…did Finn want…?

“If I crossed a line, and you wanna take a swing at me, I understand,” Finn said, eyes downcast but still reflecting firelight. “Though I’d take it as kindness if you didn’t,” he mumbled, and something inside Poe exploded, because how could Finn not know, how could he not know that he was everything? From the minute he cut him down from the gallows, and every minute after.

Then show him, growled an impatient voice in his head, and he finally had the sense to take Finn by the jaw and return his kiss hard enough to hurt.

And that was it.

The end of the longing, the beginning of a life he never knew he wanted.

They got by on skirting the law for another couple of years. Finn, in spite of his charming naivety, proved useful in a fight and could usually be trusted to help carry out a scheme of Poe’s without difficulty.

They kept it up, toeing the lines of right and wrong to get by, but once they realized the extent of the thing between them, they knew it was time to stop running and start living.

So that’s what they do.

They find themselves a nice-sized plot with the money they’ve taken from them who never deserved it, in a place where no one they’ve crossed will be likely to find them.

It’s not much, really, the life they have. No one else would ever find it particularly grand or exciting. The men he’d known in his glory days, the men he’d fought with, killed with…they’d laugh in his face to see him now. And maybe try to stick a knife in him for being so wrong.

Poe doesn’t care. He has Finn now, Finn who is the best man he’s ever known, maybe the best man who ever lived. He has Finn however he wants, whenever he wants and Finn has him back.

In the bed they share, on the rug in front of the wood stove. In the grassy field under the summer sun, or when they crawl out of the creek after a swim, shivering and nude and in need of the best kind of warmth. After they bicker over whether or not raising chickens is worth the effort, after Finn shows him how to make a cobbler.

No matter where it is, no matter what leads to it, from the first time as young, men embarking on something alien and terrifying, to the very last, when they’re both gray and more than a little achey, every single time, it’s home.

ETA: Didn’t realize you could post graphics on AO3. Now there’s a version of it on there too. 

ALRIGHT MOTHERFUCKERS I TALKED TO MY OLD ROOMMATES TODAY AND I’VE HAD 6 SHOTS IN THE LAST 10 MINUTES LET’S FUCKING DO THIS SHIT!

So we decided that the next story I should tell should be one where I’m the asshole so we decided the story I’m going to tell is really the first story from this apartment and guys I am estatic because this is one of my favorites

Okay so since like a yeaqr before we moved in together Kyle was dating this girl Grace. Almost 4 years later they’re still dating it’s fucking cute as FUCK. Grace is fucking awesome we all love her also she is fucking fine like this girl probably could model. She also had a best friend from high school who I’m going to call Gary because that sounds like a sufficiently douchey name for this asshat Gary was a fuck like a whispy little piece of shit noone of us like Gary except Grace because apartently when Grace was in high school Grace was not fine and Gary was one of her only friends.

The problem with this was that Grace could not see how incredibly desperately in love Gary was with her and just thought they were friends and it was really awkward for Gary because she would do sloppy makeouts with Kyle in front of him it was pretty great for the rest of us poor Grace never believed us when we told her how crazy Gary was well she believed us after this shit.

Anyways it’s the second week we’ve been in this apartment Grace’s old lease ended at the end of our first week and her new lease didn’t start until the start of our third week so she had a week of nowhere to live so she was staying with us in Kyle’s room they were pretty happy with it and also very loud it set a precident that should not have been set sxo early anyways one day we’re all out doing errands and Grace is home and Gary comes over to see his bff for totally non scummy reasons and they’re aparently hanging out in our living room watching TV when Grace gets a phone call maybe idk she goes into the other room is the point and this is hwen Gary decides to put his master plan to finally win Grace’s heart into motion.

You see, while Gary had seen Grace date other guys in the past, he had always been confident that they would not last together, and that he would always bee therewhen it ended to try to sweep her off her feet and make tender, probably disappointing nerd love to her. While this never worked, he was confident it was only a matter of time. However, Kyle genuinely loves Grace, and always has, so there is a fear in Gary’s mind that the breakup that will get him with the girl of his dreams might not come, so he has become desperate.

So Gary decided to pull a play out of the playbook of a famous character from How I Met Your Mother. Not Barney, that would have required skill, game, and a basic understanding of how women think. No, he decides to try Mitch’s play. If you don’t remember who Mitch is, don’t feel bad, he’s only in like two episodes. He’s better known as the Naked Man.

That’s right. He pulled that move.

So Gary’s buck ass naked in our living room, BUT LITTLE DID GARY KNOW that while he was setting his brilliant plan into motion, I was walking into the aparmetn with my fuck buddy Jane, and we turn the corner into the living room to find Gary fucking CAPTAIN MORGANING ON OUR COFFEE TABLE. He is FULLY ERECT and we made eye contact.

I was told that we only stared at each other for like 10 seconds before I spoke but it felt like 10 years.

“What.”

As I say this, Grace walks back into the room and I swear to god the sound she made she has never replicated it was like a mix between a shriek, a laugh, and a gasp it was awesome so she and Jane gtfo because they want nothihng to do with this and I’ve finally realized how insane all this is so I’m laughing my ass off and trying to tell Gary to put his pants back on and leave and he’s getting all pissed off because the love of his life ran away from his dick so he’s acting like a pissant I fucking love that word btw and he starts toward the hallto go confront Grace and I stop him because he’s not walking through our apartment naked.

So he takes a swing at me. He misses because he closes his eyes before he throws a punch but still he throws a punch at me.

Here’s the thing: I fight a lot. Like way too much by any sane standard. I weigh like 180 something and I’m fucking strong. Gary is 130 at most, weak as fuck, and also has spent the entire time I’ve known him annoying the shit out of me, and also is naked in our living room and trying to fuck my friend in her boyfriend’s apartment.

So I swing back. And I don’t miss.

Gary stummbles back and I kick hm in the ass because why not. I fucking rain on him for like 20 seconds before he tries grabbing on to me.

This is the point where I realize he’s still ROCK FUCKING HARD.

So I grab him by the dick.

And I pull.

Hard.

I fucking lift Gary off the ground by his dick. At this point Paul and Kyle are getting back from their errands, and they walk into the apartment to see me giving Gary the worst handjob of all time while he tries his best moose call. They kinda just stare for a minute while I spin Gary around the room by his dick before Grace comes in screaming about what happened and Kyle jumps in to beat the shit out of Gary.

So we kick the shi9t out of Gary and make him put pants on before we kick him out because we aren’t a bunch of fucking savages and we all joke about it every time I’m arguing with someone at a party Kyle tells everyone I’ll rip their dicks off. Like a week later Grace hears from a friend that Gary tore a groin muscle from our little fight and it becomes even more hilarious to all of us we spoke to Gary once after this he called Grace a bitch and I threatened to feed him his balls.

So that’s the story of the time I gave a dude a mid-fight handy that was so rough I sent him to the hospital.

7

The Superlatively Superfluous Adventures of Legolas and Tauriel

Dateline: Dale (5/40)

“Violence isn’t the answer, you need to talk this out like civilized people”

NO YOU CAN’T. YOU CAN’T TALK TO NAZIS. YOU KNOW WHY??

BECAUSE THEY DON’T WANT TO TALK.

You can’t have a conversation with someone who doesn’t want to talk. You can’t force someone to have a conversation you fucking idiots!! And someone who believes that entire races of people are ‘unnecessary’ and should literally die is not going to sit across a coffee table from a Jew or a Black person and actually listen to them. Jesus shit how naive are you?  Even if they talked to a Christian White who disagreed with them, they’re not going to change their mind.

Do you really think they have NEVER heard counterarguments? Do you think they just don’t know that their ‘opinions’ are dangerous and that people don’t like them? Did you think that literally never have they realized that what they’re doing is not nice? That it’s naughty? So if someone just told them that they’d pack up and go  home and stop being Nazis forever?

There are times that people have talked down White Supremacists, but look the fuck around: Synagogues are still getting bomb threats, still getting bombed. Black people are still fighting for the right to be seen as human, and are still getting killed. Muslims, LGBT people, all of them STILL do not have equal rights so there are STILL plenty of people who think they don’t deserve to live.

WE’VE BEEN TALKING. WE NEVER STOPPED TALKING.

Nazis know. They don’t care.

Do you think no one tried to dissuade Hitler? That all of Germany was just like “well we can’t talk to a single Nazi so let’s just do Nothing”? Do you think that no Jews stood up and protested ‘civilly’? Do you think no one from the Armenian Genocide, The Rwandan Genocide, the Native American Genocide, and countless others, no one tried to use ‘words’ for their cause?

You arrogant little pissants think you’re the only people wise enough to go ‘Aha! I will TALK to the genocidal Fascists! No one has tried that before!’

SHUT THE FUCK UP! You little fandom inactivists sit on the computer all day watching bullshit and talking bullshit and have 0 idea of how the real world works or has worked. You’re idiots and fools the lot of you and nothing you say is even remotely well thought out or  applicable to reality. You’re a child in a fantasy land come to try and ‘inform’ people in the real world how to deal with a threat you have never ever in your LIFE come CLOSE to being threatened by.

Shut the fuck up, your words are worthless and stupid.

anonymous asked:

hi arc can i ask a question that seems a bit silly even as i write it? how do you keep being so brave about your fanwork? i used to post a lot of fic when i was younger before all the like holier than thou purity politics stuff happened. but the purity politics stuff sort of... made me scared to interact with fandom? like i want to write and post the fics i have ideas for but i'm SCARED and i don't really know how to?? stop being scared i guess? idk i can't really get my thoughts down now sorry

(scared anon) i just guess i was wondering if you had any advice on like pushing past that fear and just doing fanwork without being scared of how people might react?

Oh, honey.

Christ, lemme think about it….

1. I flat out do not follow any “main” tags. In RT, I never followed #ragehappy. In Borderlands, I never followed #rhack or anything. In HS, I don’t follow any ship tag. So I literally do not see most negativity. This is helpful because people like being dicks in tags and to put their shitty vagueblogging in there, but are often too fucking cowardly to come at you personally.

90% of the time, my awareness that people resent me for having “””impure””” popular fics comes from friends giving me a heads up that someone is talking shit. And when they do, I block that person.

2. Relevant to the above: It took me a long time to understand that people resent my fics being popular, not their actual subject matter. It’s a jealousy thing. I have written some filth that never got really popular, and no one gave a shit. It’s only when I start getting a lot of comments and kudos that suddenly I’m the Great Satan. Keeping in mind that bitches be jealous super helps.

Most recent example: people didn’t start to talk shit about ASAFAF until I started to see fanart based on the story. C’mon.

3. I genuinely believe in the diversity of stories we tell. Like, gushing gold is a great example of a fic I deeply enjoyed writing and sharing, but that I also knew was not for everyone. But it was for some people.

When you are writing a subject matter that you are passionate about, understand that other people are going to be passionate about it too. There are people who need difficult or uncomfortable stories told to affirm they aren’t alone, to help work through rare subject matter, to just enjoy in a world that doesn’t offer them much media.

No story is for everyone, but every story is for someone. Take pride in that.

4. No, really. Block people. Block anyone who makes you uncomfortable, and never look back.

I know it’s apparently a Thing, to block someone, then check in on them? I don’t do this. Once someone is blocked, they no longer exist in my universe.

5. Avoid younger fans. This obviously applies to older fen like me, but broadly speaking, this purity politics culture comes from younger fans attacking older fans, and a lack of understanding that Fandom is a place for a wide group of people with disparate experiences and interests.

Not all young fans are part of that, obviously, but… if someone young enjoys my stuff, I’m glad. I hope they like it. But I avoid deep discussion and interaction and attempts to befriend me, because I am 27 years old and write porn on the internet and shouldn’t be talking to young folks. If anyone doesn’t understand the logic of that, for my protection and for theirs, that is genuinely not my problem and I’m sure they’ll figure it out later.

Boundaries: they are important for adults as much as kids. Enforce them.

6. …

A lot of it is that I’ve been in fandom for over half my life now. I’ve seen a lot of shit. I’ve been through a lot of shit. (Anyone remember that pissant who tried to report me to the government because I told them to stop harassing me after +6 months of bullshit? lol) I’ve had great fandom experiences and I’ve had ones I would love to hit Undo on.

There are amazing people in fandom and there are fucking hilariously awful shitheads in fandom. The majority of people are decent, and they enjoy what I do, and if you start making content and sharing it, you will find people who enjoy what you do. There are people who follow me who shoot me out of the blue supportive Asks on bad days, who read my fic even when they don’t know the source material, who encouraged me to write my book and then bought the damn thing.

The purity police are scary, abusive fuckers. But they are not the majority, and the less you interact with them, the less they can affect you. They want an opponent, they want someone to fight so they can play victim, they want to be the Valiant Warrior Of Purity.

Ignore ‘em. Make them take their boring pedantic morality play elsewhere.

ETA: 7. Don’t fight the purity police and don’t try to convince them or win them over. It literally never works. These are people who are in a bad place and you cannot move them from that place. Only they can, when they grow the fuck up. Don’t do it. You will not win, you will expend energy on people who gobble it up to fuel their shitstirring and vagueblogging, and they will just know they can successfully antagonize you.

Take that annoyance and frustration. Channel it into writing more rad shit. 

.

I hope this helps at all, anon. Remember, also, that the AO3 is your friend, and you can keep your tumblr and your AO3 a little bit separated. That can help.

4

The Necklace-MacGuffin Idiot Ball: the mountain C (19/20)

So, yeah. Thranduil’s gems had the potential to progress conflict among the Dwarves, and internal conflict among individual Dwarves (like Fili and Kili). Go figure.

Of course, that requires using said gems, not just dropping a line about them here and there.

Bruces’ Philosophers Song

by Eric Idle

Immanuel Kant was a real pissant
     who was very rarely stable.
Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar
     who could think you under the table.
David Hume could outconsume
     Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel,
And Wittgenstein was a beery swine
     who was just as sloshed as Schlegel.

There’s nothing Nietzsche couldn’t teach ya
    ‘bout the raisin’ of the wrist.
Socrates himself was permanently pissed.

John Stuart Mill, of his own free will,
    after half a pint of shandy was particularly ill.
Plato, they say, could stick it away,
     'alf a crate of whiskey every day!
Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle,
     and Hobbes was fond of his Dram.
And Rene Descartes was a drunken fart:
     “I drink, therefore I am.”

Yes, Socrates himself is particularly missed;
A lovely little thinker, but a bugger when he’s pissed.

Summer Guardian (jack x merida)

At Jack’s first Summer Solstice (party) since becoming Guardian he meets a peculiar Summer Guardian. They clash and they fight and they’re seemingly opposites but Jack just finds her fascinating.  


“Whoa–who’s that?” Jack asked, strawberry halfway to his mouth and blue eyes staring at the mess of red curls that just passed him. The wild curls of fiery hair were loose and kept getting in the way of a sunburned face with a spattering of freckles everywhere, with a pair of sharp summer blue eyes that seemed to look through rather than at everything and everyone. Jack bit into the strawberry, sweet flavor bursting on his tongue as he studied the girl. She was about his age, maybe a little older, at least that’s what he thought. Jack still wasn’t sure how old he was. 13? 14? 15? No older than 16 for sure but he was definitely no younger than 13. The girl was wearing an old fashioned blue dress, ripped at the skirt and every time she moved, freckled flesh would flash. The sight made his face hot, but considering the time he grew up it wasn’t all that surprising. On her feet were a pair of sturdy looking brown hunting boots, and strapped across her back was a quiver filled with homemade arrows and a hand carved bow. It was his first Summer Solstice, and there were plenty of Guardians he had never met but he was sure he would have remembered her.  Most Guardians were either much younger than him or much older, physically at least. Jack grabbed Tooth’s sleeve and tugged, pointing unashamedly at the girl who’s face suddenly started turning red with anger. “Who’s that?”

Keep reading

Pedantic Politics
  • "I am going to bury you."
  • "That is not what I said and you know it."
  • "So you have a photo of me with a prostitute. So what?"
  • "I never agreed to that."
  • "I have met that individual a few times."
  • "Any questions?"
  • "You need to learn law."
  • "Aw... Did I hurt your feelings?"
  • "You're a member of the underground lizard people, aren't you?"
  • "I don't give a shit who your mommy or daddy was."
  • "No. The answer is no."
  • "God help us all."
  • "What the hell just happened?"
  • "I need coffee. With whiskey in it. Make it just whiskey."
  • "What did you just say to me?"
  • "Listen sugar..."
  • "Send me the proposal before Friday and I'll have a look over it before Monday."
  • "I hate lawyers."
  • "I am going to strangle them with their tie."
  • "I clawed my way up this ladder and no little pissant is pushing me back down it."
  • "I am going to destroy them."
  • "Fuck you, fuck them and fuck everything."
  • "I'll help you end all their careers."
  • "Protesters are in your office."
  • "Don't look at me like that. The rally will be good for us."
  • "Attack them. Hard."
  • "Dig through the emails. You have to find something in there."
  • "I will not stop. Ever."
  • "What did they think I was going to do when I found out about their treachery?"
  • "I will not yield. I will not bend. I will not break."
  • "I need sleep."
  • "You wanted to tell me something?"
6

The Superlatively Superfluous Adventures of Legolas and Tauriel

Dateline: Dale (19/40)

time lord isn’t a race, it’s a fucking social class. it’s also kind of like having a spot in political office & moffat confirmed that in listen, to all the nuvians’ cries of ‘i don’t know anything about my own fandom’

anyway when that post was torn apart by people who’ve actually watched doctor who, the rtd piss babies started reblogging examples of time lord being called a race and, hMMMMM, evERY SINGLE ONE came from an rtd episode

just because rtd is ignorant doesn’t mean his mistakes should be canon. he worked on the show for four seasons, who the hell decided we should throw out the decades of canon that came before that, just because he couldn’t be bothered to fucking fact check?