#god bless oliver stark
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i'm. sobbing [x]
#i say this like i haven't been metaphorically sobbing since watching it two hours ago#but !! people KNEW#THIS feels so much like... validation without pandering#yeah some people are going to be surprised this isn't a sudden flip of everything that's happened before#and it's not a 'you were idiots for thinking it probably wouldn't ever happen'#but ALSO some of his family basically already knew! it's also a 'you weren't idiots for seeing it all along'#everything oliver's saying is that and god bless him for it but this is confirming the SHOW ITSELF will also say that#also i have got to assume one of the not surprised people is probably Maddie and i cannot wait#i also can't wait for Hen to find out she's gonna be so proud#911#911 spoilers#Buck Bothered and Bewildered#Evan Buckley#Oliver Stark#mine#god I had an exam this morning and it’s almost 3am I should be exhausted#*this morning and yesterday#but the adrenaline rush. I’m still flying#as someone else said and I feel nov 5th in this chilis tonight
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SWIFTIE BUCK
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A British writer penned the best description of Donald Trump I’ve ever read:
“Why do some British people not like Donald Trump?”
A few things spring to mind. Trump lacks certain qualities which the British traditionally esteem. For instance, he has no class, no charm, no coolness, no credibility, no compassion, no wit, no warmth, no wisdom, no subtlety, no sensitivity, no self-awareness, no humility, no honour and no grace – all qualities, funnily enough, with which his predecessor Mr. Obama was generously blessed. So for us, the stark contrast does rather throw Trump’s limitations into embarrassingly sharp relief.
Plus, we like a laugh. And while Trump may be laughable, he has never once said anything wry, witty or even faintly amusing – not once, ever. I don’t say that rhetorically, I mean it quite literally: not once, not ever. And that fact is particularly disturbing to the British sensibility – for us, to lack humour is almost inhuman. But with Trump, it’s a fact. He doesn’t even seem to understand what a joke is – his idea of a joke is a crass comment, an illiterate insult, a casual act of cruelty.
Trump is a troll. And like all trolls, he is never funny and he never laughs; he only crows or jeers. And scarily, he doesn’t just talk in crude, witless insults – he actually thinks in them. His mind is a simple bot-like algorithm of petty prejudices and knee-jerk nastiness.
There is never any under-layer of irony, complexity, nuance or depth. It’s all surface. Some Americans might see this as refreshingly upfront. Well, we don’t. We see it as having no inner world, no soul. And in Britain we traditionally side with David, not Goliath. All our heroes are plucky underdogs: Robin Hood, Dick Whittington, Oliver Twist. Trump is neither plucky, nor an underdog. He is the exact opposite of that. He’s not even a spoiled rich-boy, or a greedy fat-cat. He’s more a fat white slug. A Jabba the Hutt of privilege.
And worse, he is that most unforgivable of all things to the British: a bully. That is, except when he is among bullies; then he suddenly transforms into a snivelling sidekick instead. There are unspoken rules to this stuff – the Queensberry rules of basic decency – and he breaks them all. He punches downwards – which a gentleman should, would, could never do – and every blow he aims is below the belt. He particularly likes to kick the vulnerable or voiceless – and he kicks them when they are down.
So the fact that a significant minority – perhaps a third – of Americans look at what he does, listen to what he says, and then think ‘Yeah, he seems like my kind of guy’ is a matter of some confusion and no little distress to British people, given that:
• Americans are supposed to be nicer than us, and mostly are.
• You don’t need a particularly keen eye for detail to spot a few flaws in the man.
This last point is what especially confuses and dismays British people, and many other people too; his faults seem pretty bloody hard to miss. After all, it’s impossible to read a single tweet, or hear him speak a sentence or two, without staring deep into the abyss. He turns being artless into an art form; he is a Picasso of pettiness; a Shakespeare of shit. His faults are fractal: even his flaws have flaws, and so on ad infinitum. God knows there have always been stupid people in the world, and plenty of nasty people too. But rarely has stupidity been so nasty, or nastiness so stupid. He makes Nixon look trustworthy and George W look smart. In fact, if Frankenstein decided to make a monster assembled entirely from human flaws – he would make a Trump.
And a remorseful Doctor Frankenstein would clutch out big clumpfuls of hair and scream in anguish: ‘My God… what… have… I… created?' If being a twat was a TV show, Trump would be the boxed set.”
-Nate White
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in another life pt. 2 | stephen strange x fem!reader
in which Y/N and Stephen break up a week before the blip, and when he comes back, he learns that not everything was the same as it was. | part 1
warnings: more angst, very little comfort, final part :)
2023
Y/N walked around the streets of London. She was on her way back to her flat since she just went to Tesco to buy groceries for a week.
After the blip, as it came to be known, she stayed in the Sanctum for a year. Waiting for half if its inhabitants to come back, especially Stephen.
But they never came back. Y/N decided in the one year mark that she would try to move on from this.
And that is what she did. The same year she decided to move on, she finally managed to move from New York to London, get a new job, make new friends, even meet someone special. She put everything in her past in a little box in her head that she will dare not to touch.
She met her now husband, William by literally running into him randomly on the streets of London. He was running around the city trying to find clues for the case he was currently working on. She was walking around sulking because of Stephen and they crashed into one another, and the rest was history. The two were married a year later and were now blessed with a son, Oliver.
Y/N opened the door to their building and as she went up the stairs to their flat, she heard people arguing.
“Do you honestly think that she will agree to help us? She clearly made an effort to move on,” a woman argued.
“If she still cares about wizard man, she’ll help us,” another man argued back.
When Y/N reached the stairs, she was met with familiar figures. Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, and Natasha Romanoff were stood in front her flat.
“What are you doing here?” Y/N asked as the three faced her.
“We need your help,” Steve said.
“With what?” she replied, opening the door, “Please come in, it’s a bit messy,” she warned.
Their flat had various baby toys scattered on the floor, baby bottles on the kitchen, and a man and their child napping on the couch.
“You have a child?” Nat asked her, confused.
“Yeah. We got married to two years after the blip. Needed to move on from everything in New York,” she said, putting the groceries down.
“We have figured a way for them to get back. But we need your help,” Steve said once more.
“With what?” she repeated her question.
“We need to travel back in time to get all of the infinity stones,” Tony said, cutting Steve off.
“How? You said Stephen gave up the time stone?” Y/N asked back.
“There’s this guy. But it’s complicated. You need to help us,” he replied looking around the flat.
“Let me talk to William first. Please, sit down.”
Y/N went to the living room and woke William up.
“William, dear,” she said, poking his arm to wake him up.
“Hm? Yes? What?” he suddenly woke up, obviously disoriented.
“They need my help,” Y/N said, looking at him worriedly.
William already knew who “they” were. He even knew who Stephen is. Y/N told him everything, from what she can do to who were the people she deemed as important back in the day, once they made their relationship serious.
“What do you want to do?” he asked, holding her hand.
“I want to help them. But I wanted to ask you first, since I’ll be leaving the two of you for god knows how long,” she rambled.
“We’ll be fine,” William smiled, “but please be careful. I don’t know what we’ll do without you.
Y/N smiled at him and kissed his cheek as well as Oliver’s who was still sleeping.
Their three visitors were looking at the little family. They all felt guilty but they knew that her leaving them temporarily will be for the greater good.
༺༻
They did manage to get the time stone as well as the other infinity stones.
The fight pursued and at the moment that they thought they were to lose the second time, a familiar portal started opening behind Steve and everyone who blipped came back, including Stephen.
Their eyes met and Y/N quickly turned away. The overwhelming feelings of pain, sadness, and longing that came with looking at Stephen.
They won the fight but not without its loses, especially Tony and Nat. Though Y/N and Tony were not that close, he did manage to make her laugh, especially questioning Y/N’s taste for dating Stephen before the blip. And Nat was always curious of her family life, wondering how Y/N managed to leave it all behind and if asking Y/N if she should do the same.
Y/N was paying her respects when she heard her name being mentioned.
“Y/N, can we-” Stephen started, but due to Y/N panicking, she immediately opened up a portal straight to their flat and immediately closed it before Stephen could even react.
Y/N let out a sigh and went inside, being greeted by her loving husband and son.
༺༻
It has been two weeks since everyone who was blipped came back. In those two weeks, a ceremony for Tony was held but Y/N could not attend due to Oliver being sick and the fear of seeing Stephen again. She opted to send flowers instead.
Y/N was carrying the boy, trying to make him take a nap when she heard a knock on the door. She opened it, and to her surprise, it was Stephen.
“Hey, Stephen. How did you find me?”
“I asked around, listen, can we talk? If you are not that busy?”
“Yes, yes of course. Come in. I’ll just put Oli to bed,” she smiled as she let him in. She immediately rushed to Oli’s bedroom, trying to not wake the boy.
Stephen came in the flat and saw the life Y/N had built for herself. He saw the pictures on the wall, weddings, friends, even the birth of Oli. All pictures contained a very happy Y/N, the one that he hadn’t seen since the day they got together.
Though his original plan was to try and get Y/N back, at this moment, he realized that her future had no place for him. And even though it hurt for him to admit that, he’s just going to have to live with it.
“So what do you want to talk about?” Y/N asked, coming out of her son’s room.
“I would first like to apologize. I am so sorry for everything that I said that night, but I do want you to know that I love you so much, until now even,” Stephen said, tears starting to form in his eyes.
“I loved you too back then Stephen. But I love William and Oliver even more. I know that what we had is special, but it is in the past, Stephen. I cannot and will not leave my family here just for you,” said Y/N with tears rolling down her face as she breathed in before continuing, “When I look at them, all I feel is happiness, pride, and love. But when I see you, all I remember pain and despair. I frankly do not want to feel that again Stephen, not when I already am so happy and content with the life that I’ve built.”
“Please, Y/N, just try to consider-”
“No, Stephen. My decision is final. You cannot say anything that will change my mind. I do hope you find the love that you truly deserve, but that love is not me, Stephen,” Y/N said as she held his hand in her own, “Please let me go, Stephen. If not for your sake, then for mine.”
He stood up, but before he could leave, Y/N rushed to hug him goodbye.
When the two pulled apart, Stephen spoke up. “I guess this is it huh?”
“Yes, this is it. Good bye Stephen.”
Stephen walked out of their flat as he started thinking to himself. All he thought was in another life or even universe, the two of them did end up together. They overcame any hurdles that they faced and eventually got married and started a family together. But unfortunately for him, this wasn’t the one. So all he can do now is mourn for the love that he lost and be happy for the only woman he loved so dearly and her happy family.
A/N: I know that some of you wanted a happy ending for this one and I did consider it for a moment, but this was the original plan for the story and I decided to go through with it so yeah, hope you guys still liked it (last time posting i swear becuase tumblr is really being weird) :))
add yourself to my taglist (taglist in the comments)
#stephen strange imagine#stephen strange x reader#stephen strange x y/n#stephen strange x you#doctor strange imagine#doctor strange x reader#doctor strange x you#doctor strange x y/n#dr strange imagine
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A British writer penned the best description of Donald Trump I’ve ever read:
A British writer penned the best description of Donald Trump I’ve ever read:
“Why do some British people not like Donald Trump?”
A few things spring to mind. Trump lacks certain qualities which the British traditionally esteem. For instance, he has no class, no charm, no coolness, no credibility, no compassion, no wit, no warmth, no wisdom, no subtlety, no sensitivity, no self-awareness, no humility, no honour and no grace – all qualities, funnily enough, with which his predecessor Mr. Obama was generously blessed. So for us, the stark contrast does rather throw Trump’s limitations into embarrassingly sharp relief.
Plus, we like a laugh. And while Trump may be laughable, he has never once said anything wry, witty or even faintly amusing – not once, ever. I don’t say that rhetorically, I mean it quite literally: not once, not ever. And that fact is particularly disturbing to the British sensibility – for us, to lack humour is almost inhuman. But with Trump, it’s a fact. He doesn’t even seem to understand what a joke is – his idea of a joke is a crass comment, an illiterate insult, a casual act of cruelty.
Trump is a troll. And like all trolls, he is never funny and he never laughs; he only crows or jeers. And scarily, he doesn’t just talk in crude, witless insults – he actually thinks in them. His mind is a simple bot-like algorithm of petty prejudices and knee-jerk nastiness.
There is never any under-layer of irony, complexity, nuance or depth. It’s all surface. Some Americans might see this as refreshingly upfront. Well, we don’t. We see it as having no inner world, no soul. And in Britain we traditionally side with David, not Goliath. All our heroes are plucky underdogs: Robin Hood, Dick Whittington, Oliver Twist. Trump is neither plucky, nor an underdog. He is the exact opposite of that. He’s not even a spoiled rich-boy, or a greedy fat-cat. He’s more a fat white slug. A Jabba the Hutt of privilege.
And worse, he is that most unforgivable of all things to the British: a bully. That is, except when he is among bullies; then he suddenly transforms into a snivelling sidekick instead. There are unspoken rules to this stuff – the Queensberry rules of basic decency – and he breaks them all. He punches downwards – which a gentleman should, would, could never do – and every blow he aims is below the belt. He particularly likes to kick the vulnerable or voiceless – and he kicks them when they are down.
So the fact that a significant minority – perhaps a third – of Americans look at what he does, listen to what he says, and then think ‘Yeah, he seems like my kind of guy’ is a matter of some confusion and no little distress to British people, given that:
• Americans are supposed to be nicer than us, and mostly are.
• You don’t need a particularly keen eye for detail to spot a few flaws in the man.
This last point is what especially confuses and dismays British people, and many other people too; his faults seem pretty bloody hard to miss. After all, it’s impossible to read a single tweet, or hear him speak a sentence or two, without staring deep into the abyss. He turns being artless into an art form; he is a Picasso of pettiness; a Shakespeare of shit. His faults are fractal: even his flaws have flaws, and so on ad infinitum.
God knows there have always been stupid people in the world, and plenty of nasty people too. But rarely has stupidity been so nasty, or nastiness so stupid. He makes Nixon look trustworthy and George W look smart. In fact, if Frankenstein decided to make a monster assembled entirely from human flaws – he would make a Trump.
And a remorseful Doctor Frankenstein would clutch out big clumpfuls of hair and scream in anguish: ‘My God… what… have… I… created?' If being a twat was a TV show, Trump would be the boxed set.”
-Nate White
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funny how ppl want to say queer buck came out of nowhere when we know that its almost certain that the idea of queer buck came up at around S4 if im not mistaken but got shot down by higher ups at fox yet they went on to hint at it anyways with buck telling tk they should get together sometime and tk telling him he has a boyfriend already and it’s pretty serious.
buck was always meant to be queer and god bless he’s played by oliver stark who is such a breath of fresh air compared to so many other men in hollywood who would’ve rejected the idea. so many of us were treated so horribly and disrespected (aka literally being made fun of) by showrunners and actors of other queer ships that were widely popular a decade ago.
now whether buddie or bucktommy (or neither) becomes endgame? we can’t decide that, but for me and other buddie endgamers it’s nice to hear the actors of not only the ship itself but others in the show as well voice support and their willingness to play it out. that’s so incredibly special to have, especially when so many of us are downright traumatized from other fandom experience.
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Why do British people not like Donald Trump?
Someone asked "Why do British people not like Donald Trump?"
Nate White, an articulate and witty writer from England, wrote this magnificent response:
"A few things spring to mind.
Trump lacks certain qualities which the British traditionally esteem.
For instance, he has no class, no charm, no coolness, no credibility, no compassion, no wit, no warmth, no wisdom, no subtlety, no sensitivity, no self-awareness, no humility, no honour and no grace - all qualities, funnily enough, with which his predecessor Mr Obama was generously blessed.
So for us, the stark contrast does rather throw Trump’s limitations into embarrassingly sharp relief.
Plus, we like a laugh. And while Trump may be laughable, he has never once said anything wry, witty or even faintly amusing - not once, ever.
I don’t say that rhetorically, I mean it quite literally: not once, not ever. And that fact is particularly disturbing to the British sensibility - for us, to lack humour is almost inhuman.
But with Trump, it’s a fact. He doesn’t even seem to understand what a joke is - his idea of a joke is a crass comment, an illiterate insult, a casual act of cruelty.
Trump is a troll. And like all trolls, he is never funny and he never laughs; he only crows or jeers.
And scarily, he doesn’t just talk in crude, witless insults - he actually thinks in them. His mind is a simple bot-like algorithm of petty prejudices and knee-jerk nastiness.
There is never any under-layer of irony, complexity, nuance or depth. It’s all surface.
Some Americans might see this as refreshingly upfront.
Well, we don’t. We see it as having no inner world, no soul.
And in Britain we traditionally side with David, not Goliath. All our heroes are plucky underdogs: Robin Hood, Dick Whittington, Oliver Twist.
Trump is neither plucky, nor an underdog. He is the exact opposite of that.
He’s not even a spoiled rich-boy, or a greedy fat-cat.
He’s more a fat white slug. A Jabba the Hutt of privilege.
And worse, he is that most unforgivable of all things to the British: a bully.
That is, except when he is among bullies; then he suddenly transforms into a snivelling sidekick instead.
There are unspoken rules to this stuff - the Queensberry rules of basic decency - and he breaks them all. He punches downwards - which a gentleman should, would, could never do - and every blow he aims is below the belt. He particularly likes to kick the vulnerable or voiceless - and he kicks them when they are down.
So the fact that a significant minority - perhaps a third - of Americans look at what he does, listen to what he says, and then think 'Yeah, he seems like my kind of guy’ is a matter of some confusion and no little distress to British people, given that:
* Americans are supposed to be nicer than us, and mostly are.
* You don't need a particularly keen eye for detail to spot a few flaws in the man.
This last point is what especially confuses and dismays British people, and many other people too; his faults seem pretty bloody hard to miss.
After all, it’s impossible to read a single tweet, or hear him speak a sentence or two, without staring deep into the abyss. He turns being artless into an art form; he is a Picasso of pettiness; a Shakespeare of shit. His faults are fractal: even his flaws have flaws, and so on ad infinitum.
God knows there have always been stupid people in the world, and plenty of nasty people too. But rarely has stupidity been so nasty, or nastiness so stupid.
He makes Nixon look trustworthy and George W look smart.
In fact, if Frankenstein decided to make a monster assembled entirely from human flaws - he would make a Trump.
And a remorseful Doctor Frankenstein would clutch out big clumpfuls of hair and scream in anguish:
'My God… what… have… I… created?
If being a twat was a TV show, Trump would be the boxed set."
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“Why do some British people not like Donald Trump?”
A few things spring to mind. Trump lacks certain qualities which the British traditionally esteem. For instance, he has no class, no charm, no coolness, no credibility, no compassion, no wit, no warmth, no wisdom, no subtlety, no sensitivity, no self-awareness, no humility, no honour and no grace – all qualities, funnily enough, with which his predecessor Mr. Obama was generously blessed. So for us, the stark contrast does rather throw Trump’s limitations into embarrassingly sharp relief.
Plus, we like a laugh. And while Trump may be laughable, he has never once said anything wry, witty or even faintly amusing – not once, ever. I don’t say that rhetorically, I mean it quite literally: not once, not ever. And that fact is particularly disturbing to the British sensibility – for us, to lack humour is almost inhuman. But with Trump, it’s a fact. He doesn’t even seem to understand what a joke is – his idea of a joke is a crass comment, an illiterate insult, a casual act of cruelty.
Trump is a troll. And like all trolls, he is never funny and he never laughs; he only crows or jeers. And scarily, he doesn’t just talk in crude, witless insults – he actually thinks in them. His mind is a simple bot-like algorithm of petty prejudices and knee-jerk nastiness.
There is never any under-layer of irony, complexity, nuance or depth. It’s all surface. Some Americans might see this as refreshingly upfront. Well, we don’t. We see it as having no inner world, no soul. And in Britain we traditionally side with David, not Goliath. All our heroes are plucky underdogs: Robin Hood, Dick Whittington, Oliver Twist. Trump is neither plucky, nor an underdog. He is the exact opposite of that. He’s not even a spoiled rich-boy, or a greedy fat-cat. He’s more a fat white slug. A Jabba the Hutt of privilege.
And worse, he is that most unforgivable of all things to the British: a bully. That is, except when he is among bullies; then he suddenly transforms into a snivelling sidekick instead. There are unspoken rules to this stuff – the Queensberry rules of basic decency – and he breaks them all. He punches downwards – which a gentleman should, would, could never do – and every blow he aims is below the belt. He particularly likes to kick the vulnerable or voiceless – and he kicks them when they are down.
So the fact that a significant minority – perhaps a third – of Americans look at what he does, listen to what he says, and then think ‘Yeah, he seems like my kind of guy’ is a matter of some confusion and no little distress to British people, given that:
• Americans are supposed to be nicer than us, and mostly are.
• You don’t need a particularly keen eye for detail to spot a few flaws in the man.
This last point is what especially confuses and dismays British people, and many other people too; his faults seem pretty bloody hard to miss. After all, it’s impossible to read a single tweet, or hear him speak a sentence or two, without staring deep into the abyss. He turns being artless into an art form; he is a Picasso of pettiness; a Shakespeare of shit. His faults are fractal: even his flaws have flaws, and so on ad infinitum.
God knows there have always been stupid people in the world, and plenty of nasty people too. But rarely has stupidity been so nasty, or nastiness so stupid. He makes Nixon look trustworthy and George W look smart. In fact, if Frankenstein decided to make a monster assembled entirely from human flaws – he would make a Trump.
And a remorseful Doctor Frankenstein would clutch out big clumpfuls of hair and scream in anguish: ‘My God… what… have… I… created?' If being a twat was a TV show, Trump would be the boxed set.”
(H/T Nate White)
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Text
“Why do some British people not like Donald Trump?”
A few things spring to mind. Trump lacks certain qualities which the British traditionally esteem. For instance, he has no class, no charm, no coolness, no credibility, no compassion, no wit, no warmth, no wisdom, no subtlety, no sensitivity, no self-awareness, no humility, no honour and no grace – all qualities, funnily enough, with which his predecessor Mr. Obama was generously blessed. So for us, the stark contrast does rather throw Trump’s limitations into embarrassingly sharp relief.
Plus, we like a laugh. And while Trump may be laughable, he has never once said anything wry, witty or even faintly amusing – not once, ever. I don’t say that rhetorically, I mean it quite literally: not once, not ever. And that fact is particularly disturbing to the British sensibility – for us, to lack humour is almost inhuman. But with Trump, it’s a fact. He doesn’t even seem to understand what a joke is – his idea of a joke is a crass comment, an illiterate insult, a casual act of cruelty.
Trump is a troll. And like all trolls, he is never funny and he never laughs; he only crows or jeers. And scarily, he doesn’t just talk in crude, witless insults – he actually thinks in them. His mind is a simple bot-like algorithm of petty prejudices and knee-jerk nastiness.
There is never any under-layer of irony, complexity, nuance or depth. It’s all surface. Some Americans might see this as refreshingly upfront. Well, we don’t. We see it as having no inner world, no soul. And in Britain we traditionally side with David, not Goliath. All our heroes are plucky underdogs: Robin Hood, Dick Whittington, Oliver Twist. Trump is neither plucky, nor an underdog. He is the exact opposite of that. He’s not even a spoiled rich-boy, or a greedy fat-cat. He’s more a fat white slug. A Jabba the Hutt of privilege.
And worse, he is that most unforgivable of all things to the British: a bully. That is, except when he is among bullies; then he suddenly transforms into a snivelling sidekick instead. There are unspoken rules to this stuff – the Queensberry rules of basic decency – and he breaks them all. He punches downwards – which a gentleman should, would, could never do – and every blow he aims is below the belt. He particularly likes to kick the vulnerable or voiceless – and he kicks them when they are down.
So the fact that a significant minority – perhaps a third – of Americans look at what he does, listen to what he says, and then think ‘Yeah, he seems like my kind of guy’ is a matter of some confusion and no little distress to British people, given that:
• Americans are supposed to be nicer than us, and mostly are.
• You don’t need a particularly keen eye for detail to spot a few flaws in the man.
This last point is what especially confuses and dismays British people, and many other people too; his faults seem pretty bloody hard to miss. After all, it’s impossible to read a single tweet, or hear him speak a sentence or two, without staring deep into the abyss. He turns being artless into an art form; he is a Picasso of pettiness; a Shakespeare of shit. His faults are fractal: even his flaws have flaws, and so on ad infinitum.
God knows there have always been stupid people in the world, and plenty of nasty people too. But rarely has stupidity been so nasty, or nastiness so stupid. He makes Nixon look trustworthy and George W look smart. In fact, if Frankenstein decided to make a monster assembled entirely from human flaws – he would make a Trump.
And a remorseful Doctor Frankenstein would clutch out big clumpfuls of hair and scream in anguish: ‘My God… what… have… I… created?' If being a twat was a TV show, Trump would be the boxed set.”
-Nate White
[ x ]
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“…a Picasso of pettiness, a Shakespeare of sh*t…”
A must-read from British writer Nate White:
“Why do some British people not like Donald Trump?”
A few things spring to mind. Trump lacks certain qualities which the British traditionally esteem. For instance, he has no class, no charm, no coolness, no credibility, no compassion, no wit, no warmth, no wisdom, no subtlety, no sensitivity, no self-awareness, no humility, no honour and no grace – all qualities, funnily enough, with which his predecessor Mr. Obama was generously blessed. So for us, the stark contrast does rather throw Trump’s limitations into embarrassingly sharp relief.
Plus, we like a laugh. And while Trump may be laughable, he has never once said anything wry, witty or even faintly amusing – not once, ever. I don’t say that rhetorically, I mean it quite literally: not once, not ever. And that fact is particularly disturbing to the British sensibility – for us, to lack humour is almost inhuman. But with Trump, it’s a fact. He doesn’t even seem to understand what a joke is – his idea of a joke is a crass comment, an illiterate insult, a casual act of cruelty.
Trump is a troll. And like all trolls, he is never funny and he never laughs; he only crows or jeers. And scarily, he doesn’t just talk in crude, witless insults – he actually thinks in them. His mind is a simple bot-like algorithm of petty prejudices and knee-jerk nastiness.
There is never any under-layer of irony, complexity, nuance or depth. It’s all surface. Some Americans might see this as refreshingly upfront. Well, we don’t. We see it as having no inner world, no soul. And in Britain we traditionally side with David, not Goliath. All our heroes are plucky underdogs: Robin Hood, Dick Whittington, Oliver Twist. Trump is neither plucky, nor an underdog. He is the exact opposite of that. He’s not even a spoiled rich-boy, or a greedy fat-cat. He’s more a fat white slug. A Jabba the Hutt of privilege.
And worse, he is that most unforgivable of all things to the British: a bully. That is, except when he is among bullies; then he suddenly transforms into a snivelling sidekick instead. There are unspoken rules to this stuff – the Queensberry rules of basic decency – and he breaks them all. He punches downwards – which a gentleman should, would, could never do – and every blow he aims is below the belt. He particularly likes to kick the vulnerable or voiceless – and he kicks them when they are down.
So the fact that a significant minority – perhaps a third – of Americans look at what he does, listen to what he says, and then think ‘Yeah, he seems like my kind of guy’ is a matter of some confusion and no little distress to British people, given that:
• Americans are supposed to be nicer than us, and mostly are.
• You don’t need a particularly keen eye for detail to spot a few flaws in the man.
This last point is what especially confuses and dismays British people, and many other people too; his faults seem pretty bloody hard to miss. After all, it’s impossible to read a single tweet, or hear him speak a sentence or two, without staring deep into the abyss. He turns being artless into an art form; he is a Picasso of pettiness; a Shakespeare of shit. His faults are fractal: even his flaws have flaws, and so on ad infinitum.
God knows there have always been stupid people in the world, and plenty of nasty people too. But rarely has stupidity been so nasty, or nastiness so stupid. He makes Nixon look trustworthy and George W look smart. In fact, if Frankenstein decided to make a monster assembled entirely from human flaws – he would make a Trump.
And a remorseful Doctor Frankenstein would clutch out big clumpfuls of hair and scream in anguish: ‘My God… what… have… I… created?' If being a twat was a TV show, Trump would be the boxed set.”
-Nate White
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Text
CALL TO ACTIVISM
CALL TO ACTIVISM
@CalltoActivism
A British writer penned the best description of Donald Trump I’ve ever read: “Why do some British people not like Donald Trump?” A few things spring to mind. Trump lacks certain qualities which the British traditionally esteem. For instance, he has no class, no charm, no coolness, no credibility, no compassion, no wit, no warmth, no wisdom, no subtlety, no sensitivity, no self-awareness, no humility, no honour and no grace – all qualities, funnily enough, with which his predecessor Mr. Obama was generously blessed. So for us, the stark contrast does rather throw Trump’s limitations into embarrassingly sharp relief. Plus, we like a laugh. And while Trump may be laughable, he has never once said anything wry, witty or even faintly amusing – not once, ever. I don’t say that rhetorically, I mean it quite literally: not once, not ever. And that fact is particularly disturbing to the British sensibility – for us, to lack humour is almost inhuman. But with Trump, it’s a fact. He doesn’t even seem to understand what a joke is – his idea of a joke is a crass comment, an illiterate insult, a casual act of cruelty. Trump is a troll. And like all trolls, he is never funny and he never laughs; he only crows or jeers. And scarily, he doesn’t just talk in crude, witless insults – he actually thinks in them. His mind is a simple bot-like algorithm of petty prejudices and knee-jerk nastiness. There is never any under-layer of irony, complexity, nuance or depth. It’s all surface. Some Americans might see this as refreshingly upfront. Well, we don’t. We see it as having no inner world, no soul. And in Britain we traditionally side with David, not Goliath. All our heroes are plucky underdogs: Robin Hood, Dick Whittington, Oliver Twist. Trump is neither plucky, nor an underdog. He is the exact opposite of that. He’s not even a spoiled rich-boy, or a greedy fat-cat. He’s more a fat white slug. A Jabba the Hutt of privilege. And worse, he is that most unforgivable of all things to the British: a bully. That is, except when he is among bullies; then he suddenly transforms into a snivelling sidekick instead. There are unspoken rules to this stuff – the Queensberry rules of basic decency – and he breaks them all. He punches downwards – which a gentleman should, would, could never do – and every blow he aims is below the belt. He particularly likes to kick the vulnerable or voiceless – and he kicks them when they are down. So the fact that a significant minority – perhaps a third – of Americans look at what he does, listen to what he says, and then think ‘Yeah, he seems like my kind of guy’ is a matter of some confusion and no little distress to British people, given that: • Americans are supposed to be nicer than us, and mostly are. • You don’t need a particularly keen eye for detail to spot a few flaws in the man. This last point is what especially confuses and dismays British people, and many other people too; his faults seem pretty bloody hard to miss. After all, it’s impossible to read a single tweet, or hear him speak a sentence or two, without staring deep into the abyss. He turns being artless into an art form; he is a Picasso of pettiness; a Shakespeare of shit. His faults are fractal: even his flaws have flaws, and so on ad infinitum. God knows there have always been stupid people in the world, and plenty of nasty people too. But rarely has stupidity been so nasty, or nastiness so stupid. He makes Nixon look trustworthy and George W look smart. In fact, if Frankenstein decided to make a monster assembled entirely from human flaws – he would make a Trump. And a remorseful Doctor Frankenstein would clutch out big clumpfuls of hair and scream in anguish: ‘My God… what… have… I… created?' If being a twat was a TV show, Trump would be the boxed set.” -Nate White
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Fandom list (WiP)
Anything crossed out can't be requested for at the moment but can be requested for in the future.
If you want to request for a character/Fandom that isn't there please ask if it is alright with me first. Not every Fandom I will do.
-> Anime/Manga:
One piece -> Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Nami, Robin, Franky, Brook, Usopp, Vivi, Law, Kidd, Killer, Ace, Whitebeard, Roger, Rayleigh, Shanks, Oden, Yamato, Kiku, Izou, Katakuri, Jimbei, Kuzan, Sengoku, Garp, Kizaru, Akainu, Mihawk, Perona, Crocodile, Doflamingo, Corazon, Eneru/Enel, Lucci, Kaku, Hancock, Hawkins, Bartolomeo, Beckman, Cavendish, Pudding, Koby, Smoker, Dragon, Paulie, Fujitora, ...
Bleach -> Ichigo, Rukia, Sado, Orihime, Rangaiku, Kenpachi, Unohana, Yoruichi, Aizen, Urahara, Shunsui, Toshiro, Byakuya, Jugram, Gin, Ishida, Stark, Grimmjow, Shinji, Renji, Ukitake, Isane, Yumichika, ...
Naruto -> Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, Kakashi, Obito, Madera, Hasirama, Minato, Kushina, Garaa, Neji, Shikamaru, Guy, Yamato, Tsunade, Itachi, Shisui, Sasori, ...
Demon slayer -> Rengoku, Uzui, Obani, Mitsuri, Shinobu, Tomioka, Genya, Sanemi, Muzan, Kokushibo, Gyomei, Akaza, Douma, Haganezuka, Shinjuro, Hinazuru, Kagaya, Sabito, Makio, Yoriichi, ...
Vagabond -> Musashi, Sasaki, Otsu, Yoshioka, Kohei, Rindo, Gennosuke, ittosai, Honiden, ...
Berserk -> Guts, Griffith, Casca, Serpico, Fernese, ...
Baki -> Baki, Yujirou, Orochi, Katsumi, Hanayama, Retsu, Musashi, Pickle, Alai, Kureha, ...
Attack on titans -> Eren, Mikasa, Armin. Levi, Erwin, Hange, Zeke, Reiner, ...
Jujutsu kaisen -> Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, Gojo, Getou, Shoko, Nanami, Sukuna, Choso, Maki, Inumaki, Yuta, Kamo, Naoya, Kashimo, Hiromi, Kong, Toji, ...
Black butler -> Undertaker, Sebastián, Vincent, Charles, Lau, Williams, ...
JoJo's bizarre adventures -> Jonathan, Joseph, Ceaser, Dio, Jotaro, Josuke, Johnny, Gyro, Jolyne, Kira, Rohan, Bruno, Diavolo, Avdol, Fugo, Mista, Trish, Anasui, Giorno, ...
Blue lock -> Oliver, Sae, Chigiri, Nagi, Rin, Michael, ...
Castlevania -> Alucard, Trevor, Sypha, Dracula, Lisa, ...
One punch man -> Saitama. Genos, Garou, Sweet mask, ...
Black clover -> Yuno, Yami, Julius, William, Fuegoleon, Nacht, ...
Mob Psycho 100 -> Reigen, Shigeo, Katsuya, Sho, Ritsu, ...
HunterxHunter -> Chrollo, illumi, Meruem, Feitan, Kite, Shizuku, Machi, Killua, Gon ...
Avatar the last air bender -> Sokka, Zuko, Azula, Hakoda, ...
Death note -> Light, L, Misa, ...
Howl's moving castle -> Howl, ...
Neon Genesis evanglion -> Kaji, Nagise, ...
Vinland saga -> Thorfinn,
Record of Ragnarök -> Thor, Loki, Adam, Eve, Aphrodite, Shiva, Buddha, ...
Veil -> Aleksander, Emma
-> Manhwa/Manhua/Webtoons:
Windbreaker -> Jay, Owen, Vinny, Dom, Joker, ...
Ennead -> Seth, Horus, ...
Solo Leveling -> Jinwoo, Thomas, Il-hwan, Jongin, Baruka, ...
Heeran love song -> Yato, Soru, Ja hyun, ...
Villains are destained to die -> Penelope, Callisto, Winter, Reynold, ...
Trash of the count's family -> Cale, Choi han, Rok soo, ...
Omniscient reader's Veiwpoint -> Dokja, Joonghyuk, ...
Operration true love -> Eunhyeok, Dohwa, ...
Heavens' official blessing ->
Under the oak tree -> Riftain, ...
The beginning after the end -> Arthur, kathyln, ...
19 days -> Jian Yi, Zhan Zheng Xi, He Tian, Mo Guan Shan, She li, He cheng, Brother Qiu, ...
The boxer -> Injae, Manuel, Yuto, Ryu, Yu, J, ...
-> Comics(+ any adaptations):
DC comics -> Batman, Superman, Nightwing, Red hood, Wonder woman, Aquaman, Joker, Deadshot, ...
Marvel comics -> Ironman, Thor, Captain America, Deadpool, Wolverine, ...
-> Games:
Call of duty -> Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Konig, Roach, Nikolai, Alejandro, ...
Arcana -> Asra, Nadia, Julian, Muriel, Portia, Lucio, Valerius, Namar, Nazali, Navra, Nahara, Aisha, Morga, Salim, ...
Five nights at freddy's -> William, Micheal, ...
God of War -> Kratos, Freya, Heimdall, Thor, Týr, ...
Love and Deepspace -> Zayne, Raphael, Xavier, Tara, ...
-> TV Shows/Movies:
The walking dead -> Rick, Daryl, Shane, Glenn, Negan, Maggie, Michonne, Tyreese, Ezekiel, Jesus, Dwight, Gabriel, Rosita, ...
The rookie -> Tim, ...
Grey's anatomy -> Derek, Mark, Christina, Owen, DeLuca, Burke, Denny, Nico, Lincoln, Alex, Arizona, Meredith, George, Izzie, Lexi, Jo, Jackson, April, Amelia, Denny, Bailey, Maggie, Addison, ...
Bridgerton/Queen Charlotte -> (king)George, Charlotte, Daphne, Simon, Eloise, Will, Anthony, ...
Game of thrones -> Jon snow, Daenerys, Jaime, Oberyn, Tryion, Robb, Sansa, Ned, ...
Vikings -> Harald, Bjorn, Ragnar, Lagartha, Ubbe, Athelstan, Ivar, Rollo, Heahmund, Harbard, Hvitserk, Sigurd, Ecbert, ...
Vikings: Valhalla -> Harald, Leif, Freydis, ...
Big mouth -> Leah, Judd, Val, ...
House of dragons -> Aemond, Aegon, Daemon, Rhaenyra, ...
Avatar/ Avatar: The way of the water -> Jake, Neytiri, Neteyam, Lo'ak, Kiri, Aonung, Tonowari, Tsireya, Miles, ...
It's Okay not to be Okay -> Moon-young, Gang-tae, Sang in, ...
Strangers from hell -> Moonjo, Jong-woo, ...
Hannibal -> Will Graham, Anthony, ...
-> Celebrities:
Snowfall -> Franklin, Andre, Teddy, Leon, Melody, Gustavo, Alejandro, ...
Formula 1 -> Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, Daniel Riccardo, Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz, ...
If I have watched/read/played it (or know the celeb), I'm writing about it because there is at least one breedable character.
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Text
A British writer penned the best description of Donald Trump:
“Why do some British people not like Donald Trump?”
A few things spring to mind. Trump lacks certain qualities which the British traditionally esteem. For instance, he has no class, no charm, no coolness, no credibility, no compassion, no wit, no warmth, no wisdom, no subtlety, no sensitivity, no self-awareness, no humility, no honour and no grace – all qualities, funnily enough, with which his predecessor Mr. Obama was generously blessed. So for us, the stark contrast does rather throw Trump’s limitations into embarrassingly sharp relief.
Plus, we like a laugh. And while Trump may be laughable, he has never once said anything wry, witty or even faintly amusing – not once, ever. I don’t say that rhetorically, I mean it quite literally: not once, not ever. And that fact is particularly disturbing to the British sensibility – for us, to lack humour is almost inhuman. But with Trump, it’s a fact. He doesn’t even seem to understand what a joke is – his idea of a joke is a crass comment, an illiterate insult, a casual act of cruelty.
Trump is a troll. And like all trolls, he is never funny and he never laughs; he only crows or jeers. And scarily, he doesn’t just talk in crude, witless insults – he actually thinks in them. His mind is a simple bot-like algorithm of petty prejudices and knee-jerk nastiness.
There is never any under-layer of irony, complexity, nuance or depth. It’s all surface. Some Americans might see this as refreshingly upfront. Well, we don’t. We see it as having no inner world, no soul. And in Britain we traditionally side with David, not Goliath. All our heroes are plucky underdogs: Robin Hood, Dick Whittington, Oliver Twist. Trump is neither plucky, nor an underdog. He is the exact opposite of that. He’s not even a spoiled rich-boy, or a greedy fat-cat. He’s more a fat white slug. A Jabba the Hutt of privilege.
And worse, he is that most unforgivable of all things to the British: a bully. That is, except when he is among bullies; then he suddenly transforms into a snivelling sidekick instead. There are unspoken rules to this stuff – the Queensberry rules of basic decency – and he breaks them all. He punches downwards – which a gentleman should, would, could never do – and every blow he aims is below the belt. He particularly likes to kick the vulnerable or voiceless – and he kicks them when they are down.
So the fact that a significant minority – perhaps a third – of Americans look at what he does, listen to what he says, and then think ‘Yeah, he seems like my kind of guy’ is a matter of some confusion and no little distress to British people, given that:
• Americans are supposed to be nicer than us, and mostly are.
• You don’t need a particularly keen eye for detail to spot a few flaws in the man.
This last point is what especially confuses and dismays British people, and many other people too; his faults seem pretty bloody hard to miss. After all, it’s impossible to read a single tweet, or hear him speak a sentence or two, without staring deep into the abyss. He turns being artless into an art form; he is a Picasso of pettiness; a Shakespeare of shit. His faults are fractal: even his flaws have flaws, and so on ad infinitum. God knows there have always been stupid people in the world, and plenty of nasty people too. But rarely has stupidity been so nasty, or nastiness so stupid. He makes Nixon look trustworthy and George W look smart. In fact, if Frankenstein decided to make a monster assembled entirely from human flaws – he would make a Trump.
And a remorseful Doctor Frankenstein would clutch out big clumpfuls of hair and scream in anguish: ‘My God… what… have… I… created?' If being a twat was a TV show, Trump would be the boxed set.”
-Nate White
0 notes
Text
Why do some British people not like Donald Trump?
By Nate White
A few things spring to mind. Trump lacks certain qualities which the British traditionally esteem. For instance, he has no class, no charm, no coolness, no credibility, no compassion, no wit, no warmth, no wisdom, no subtlety, no sensitivity, no self-awareness, no humility, no honour and no grace – all qualities, funnily enough, with which his predecessor Mr. Obama was generously blessed. So for us, the stark contrast does rather throw Trump’s limitations into embarrassingly sharp relief.
Plus, we like a laugh. And while Trump may be laughable, he has never once said anything wry, witty or even faintly amusing – not once, ever. I don’t say that rhetorically, I mean it quite literally: not once, not ever. And that fact is particularly disturbing to the British sensibility – for us, to lack humour is almost inhuman. But with Trump, it’s a fact. He doesn’t even seem to understand what a joke is – his idea of a joke is a crass comment, an illiterate insult, a casual act of cruelty.
Trump is a troll. And like all trolls, he is never funny and he never laughs; he only crows or jeers. And scarily, he doesn’t just talk in crude, witless insults – he actually thinks in them. His mind is a simple bot-like algorithm of petty prejudices and knee-jerk nastiness.
There is never any under-layer of irony, complexity, nuance or depth. It’s all surface. Some Americans might see this as refreshingly upfront. Well, we don’t. We see it as having no inner world, no soul. And in Britain we traditionally side with David, not Goliath. All our heroes are plucky underdogs: Robin Hood, Dick Whittington, Oliver Twist. Trump is neither plucky, nor an underdog. He is the exact opposite of that. He’s not even a spoiled rich-boy, or a greedy fat-cat. He’s more a fat white slug. A Jabba the Hutt of privilege.
And worse, he is that most unforgivable of all things to the British: a bully. That is, except when he is among bullies; then he suddenly transforms into a snivelling sidekick instead. There are unspoken rules to this stuff – the Queensberry rules of basic decency – and he breaks them all. He punches downwards – which a gentleman should, would, could never do – and every blow he aims is below the belt. He particularly likes to kick the vulnerable or voiceless – and he kicks them when they are down.
So the fact that a significant minority – perhaps a third – of Americans look at what he does, listen to what he says, and then think ‘Yeah, he seems like my kind of guy’ is a matter of some confusion and no little distress to British people, given that:
• Americans are supposed to be nicer than us, and mostly are.
• You don’t need a particularly keen eye for detail to spot a few flaws in the man.
This last point is what especially confuses and dismays British people, and many other people too; his faults seem pretty bloody hard to miss. After all, it’s impossible to read a single tweet, or hear him speak a sentence or two, without staring deep into the abyss. He turns being artless into an art form; he is a Picasso of pettiness; a Shakespeare of sh*t. His faults are fractal: even his flaws have flaws, and so on ad infinitum. God knows there have always been stupid people in the world, and plenty of nasty people too. But rarely has stupidity been so nasty, or nastiness so stupid. He makes Nixon look trustworthy and George W look smart. In fact, if Frankenstein decided to make a monster assembled entirely from human flaws – he would make a Trump.
And a remorseful Doctor Frankenstein would clutch out big clumpfuls of hair and scream in anguish: ‘My God… what… have… I… created?’ If being a twat was a TV show, Trump would be the boxed set.
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I feel someone has saw a certain tweet
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Maybe they make Buck suffer so much because Oliver, without fail, delivers, every single time.
#the nuance in his acting#his fucking microexpressions#i am tired#god bless this man#his acting is brilliant#evan buckley#evan 'buck' buckley#9-1-1#9-1-1 on fox#911#oliver stark
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