#HM Treasury

[novoki]

Gladstone: Chief Mouser of the Treasury

Larry the Cat gets a ton of attention across the internet for his role as Chief Mouser at No. 10, but nobody knows about Gladstone which makes me super sad so i’m here to rectify that:

Gladstone is the Chief Mouser of Her Majesty’s Treasury in Whitehall, London. he was appointed in 2016 following Larry and Palmerston’s appointments as Chief Mousers of No. 10 and the Foreign Office respectively - and should get just as much as, if not more (as i personally believe), attention as them!

why, you say? well ohoho i’m glad you asked:

1) he’s better at his job than Larry

Larry is well-known for his “lack of killer instinct” and is notoriously bad at his job as Chief Mouser. the press calls him “Lazy Larry” due to his tendency to sleep on while mice run amok and in 2012 was almost fired from his position due to incompetency!

Gladstone, by comparison, is a natural mouser. 

Gladstone’s catch count was last reported as 22, far higher than Larry’s (if not as high as Palmerston’s, i’ll admit). Gladstone made his first catch within 48 hours of arriving at the Treasury whereas it took Larry just under two months. Larry also had to have an assistant appointed, Freya, to help with mousing duties; Gladtsone catches all his mice himself, and has even moved onto flies, as can be seen above.

2) he’s fashionable as all hell

while all the cats of Whitehall are undoubtedly adorable, only one can hold the title for best dressed: Gladstone.

clearly, Larry and Palmerston have nothing on Gladstone. both have simple solid-coloured collars whereas Gladstone is leading the fashion revolution with every new bowtie he wears.

in fact, he’s started a trend with his bowties! when Evie and Ossie became the new Chief Mousers of the Cabinet Office in late 2016, they sported Gladstone’s iconic bowties. #styleicon

3) he’s a social media influencer

the last reason Gladstone should be just as much a household name as Larry and Palmerston is because his job isn’t only limited to mousing - he also uses his platforms to spread the message about his work:

Gladstone’s Twitter and Instagram is filled with constant updates as to what the Treasury is doing, and he often features in simple ‘5 things about ___’ videos that are cute as well as informative. he’s also seen frequently supporting global events like Pride yearly (hence the rainbow bowtie above).

4) in summary: he’s awesome

now that Palmerston has retired to lead a more chill life, and now that Larry looks to be on the horizon of replacing Boris Johnson as Prime Minister, perhaps it’s time to acknowledge how cool Gladstone is and pay him the respect and attention he deserves?

#in other words: my latest hyperfication #cats in power is so fucking funny though #cats in power #cats of the world #cats #funny #uk politics #gladstone the cat #larry the cat #palmerston the cat #chief mouser #lol #comedy #uk #united kingdom #cats in politics #hm treasury #westminster #whitehall

[insidecroydon]

'Teetering on the edge': Hunt does nothing for local councils

Complete Hunt: the Chancellor on his way to the Commons yesterday. His Autumn Statement does nothing for teachers, the NHS or local councils TV politics pundit ANDREW FISHER, pictured right, assesses the fine detail of the Chancellor’s Autumn Statement, and amid the tax giveaways for the already wealthy, identifies the glaring gaps in financial provision for the NHS, teachers and local…

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#15% Council Tax hike #Andrew Bailey #Andrew Fisher #Autumn Statement #Bank of England #Chancellor of the Exchequer #Conservative #Council Tax #Croydon #HM Treasury #Homelessness #Jeremy Hunt #No-fault evictions #OBR #Office for Budget Responsibility #Section 114 #Section 114 Notice #Tory

[all-action-all-picture]

Battle Modern Master Plan No. 8 - H.M.S. Valiant. Entered service with the Royal Navy in 1966 and was decommissioned in 1994. It was one of two subs in the Valiant class with Warspite being the second.

Is it a ship or a boat? In the Royal Navy a submarine is known as a boat. I've heard and read a number of explanations for this (many of which sound reasonable). Probably best just to leave it that its a historical term that has just stuck with it.

From Battle Picture Weekly No. 65 cover dated 29 May 1976. Treasury of British Comics.

#29may #1976 #battle modern master plan #battle #hms valiant #hms warspite #treasury of british comics #royal navy #cutaway

[downthetubes]

Rebellion announces new Battle Action mini series - our guide to the returning strips

Battle Action, 2000AD publisher's relaunch of the title inspired by two classic British weekly comics, Battle Picture Weekly (aka Battle) and Action, is back as a five-issue miniseries

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#Adventure Comics #Battle Action #Cooley&039;s Gun #Crazy Keller #D-Day Dawson #Death Squad #downthetubes News #Dredger #Garth Ennis #Hellman of Hammer Force #HMS Nightshade #John Wagner #Johnny Red #Keith Burns #Major Eazy #Nina Patrova and The Angels of Death #Rebellion #Treasury of British Comics #War Comics

[easterneyenews]

#Fujitsu #UK Treasury contracts #Post Office scandal #Horizon system #subpostmasters #financial mismanagement #High Court verdict #bugs and errors #Fujitsu contracts #UK public contracts #Commons treasury committee #HM Revenue & Customs #Financial Conduct Authority #Bank of England #HMRC contracts #FCA contracts #BoE contract #Horizon system controversy #judicial errors #Harriett Baldwin #public sector procurement #compensation #ITV series #Mr Bates vs The Post Office #legal remedies #unjust convictions.

[tigerlily-doll]

man of war

simon riley x f!reader, comfort

🌺

soft cries fill your room in the safe house, the salty tears stinging at your rosy cheeks as you weep feebly. the guilt was overwhelming. why were you put on this job? out of all who work for HM’s treasury? it felt unfair. cruel, perhaps. you were assigned to a task force a week ago, mostly made up of british personnel, to track their spendings of the treasury’s money to make sure it’s adequate. it was proving to be a much harder job than you thought it’d be.

“shoot,”

the gruff soldier spoke urgently, unarmed, holding down the writhing body of a target under him. your hand softly shook as you pointed the handgun at the struggling, sweaty man, your heart beating rapidly, pumping your red blood ferociously around your body. blood stained the hotel stairs where they had fought and you had ran, the enemy wielding a machete before he was apprehended by the masked spectre.

“close your eyes, y/n, and pull the bloody trigger!”

he strained, his opponent matching his physical strength as ghost held him down with brute force. you shut your eyes tightly and reluctantly obey, the shot reverberating throughout your whole body as you open your eyes to see a limp body and a red-hot pool of blood under him. your chest heaves up and down and you drop the gun on the floor, pushing it towards ghost with your foot, as you lean against the wall of the hallway. you gaze at the lifeless corpse, your pillowy lips parting as you take in the sight. ghost looks up at you for a few seconds, still on the floor next to the dead body, his expression hidden behind his mask before he reaches for the gun and quickly runs back up the stairs, multiple threats near your hotel room.

your silky hair is messy when you look in the mirror opposite your bed, taking in your disheveled appearance and glassy eyes. you feel dirty, even though your disturbed shower lasted two and a half hours. you feel a shot of pain in your chest when you remember that the dead body, the body that is dead because of you, will be cool to the touch in 6 hours and cool to it’s core in 18. price made you a cup of tea after he drove you to the safe house, but it’s untouched and since gone cold. you hear rustling from downstairs and around your room, but you pay no mind to it, various personnel returning from various places, the skies dark.

a few minutes pass before you hear a melodic knock at the door. you assume it’s john, here to give you an update or perhaps another strong cup of tea. your assumptions are proven incorrect when you hear a husky voice.

“y’alright?”

his voice is blunt. almost humorously blunt, and you would tease him if you didn’t just kill a man. you don’t reply, the words not forming in your throat, your knees pressed to your chest and your head pressed into your knees as your luscious hair sprawls out over the entirety. two minutes and a half passes before you hear the door squeak open, the soft light from the hallway shining into your dark room. you can almost feel his eyes and imposing presence, the sudden feeling of scrutiny causing more tears to wander down those porcelain cheeks. please don’t let me be misunderstood.

you wonder why he’s doing this. you don’t think he’s a bad man, he’s just… closed off. and this seems a little out-of-character for a person like him. perhaps that’s just what he wants you to think. hm. an elusive man with an elusive presence, you can’t tell whether he’s standing at your door to comfort you or to tell you you should’ve pulled the trigger faster. he takes your silence as consent and steps in the room, closing the door gently behind him. actually, it wasn’t that gentle. does a man like him have the capacity to be gentle?

you hear the spectre walk towards where you sit on the floor, your body leaning against the bed as your head stays between your knees. he grunts as he sits down next to you, his beefy, muscular legs a stark contrast to yours.

“shunn’t ‘ave made you do that. we shunn’t ‘ave put you in a situation where you had to do that.”

you raise your head, your eyes still glassy with tears, your cheeks rosy, and your locks disheveled. you look up to meet his dark eyes, in this light they looked like coal. he still wore a mask, but not the one you’ve noticed he wears usually. you can make out more of his face, the shape of it, your thighs mere metres apart. the delivery of his words is awkward and rough, but it sounds like he’s trying his best not to be. a tear wanders down your cheek as your eyes stay on each others, and you quickly wipe it away, breaking eye contact and looking away from him in shame. you can’t help but feel humiliated.

your body runs cold when you feel a gentle but firm hand cup your head, the sensation from the touch causing sobs to rack your body. you close your eyes as his thumb strokes your hair, the hand careful, as if he’s holding fragile ceramic or running a brush across a cat’s soft fur. you can feel that it’s reluctant, almost timid, but he pulls you effortlessly into an embrace. the tears still fall, and the hug only amplifies your big and overwhelming feelings. his hand still stays in your hair.

“want some water or anythin’?”

his throaty voice asks, and you shake your head into his chest. you can hear the drum of his slightly sped-up heartbeat, and the sound slightly brings you back down to reality. he’s alive. he’s alive. the blood pumping through his veins distracts you from the problem at hand, and you begin to feel drowsy, the tears stopping and the feelings fading as your eyes flutter shut once again, this time more peacefully as he rocks you back and forth, his strong grip steadying and grounding as you gently glide into a deep sleep, the abyss washing over you like a cool wave.

🌺

the sun peeks through the curtains as you open your eyes, your hair sprawled out on the pillows as you wake inside your bed, the covers tucked gently and carefully over you.

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost x y/n #task force 141 #task force x reader #samuel roukin #comfort #ghost call of duty

[polyhexian]

despite Jasper telling Raine not to call him for CATTs business after the finale, I feel like Raine would, indeed, end up calling him. a lot. because, like. there's an entire oppressive government to mop up, and as former Golden Guards both Jasper and Hunter would be a wealth of information.

it's a 50-50 chance whether Jasper will just hang up or whether he'll demand some ridiculous price for his help, but Raine has a dangerous castle full of an evil emperor's secrets to clean up, and the former Golden Guards are RIGHT THERE.

so like…

~

"Whispers, I told you not to call me."

"I know, don't worry, I'll be quick. Is there a backup key to the treasury?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"We can't find the treasury secretary and the key is gone and we KIND OF need the relief funds - "

"Ohoho you guys are screwed, if you try going in there without the key you're gonna get vaporized by the security system."

"I AM AWARE. Do you know of some other way to get in?"

"Mmm theoretically."

"…What's it gonna cost to get you to help?"

"I've been considering getting my own wifi plan. Could you get the fees waived for, like, forever?"

~

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW TO GET UPPER-LEVEL ACCESS TO THE CASTLE'S CRYSTAL BALL NETWORK?"

"Hello to you too, Whispers."

"YES, HI, WE'RE KIND OF ON A TIME LIMIT HERE, NO TIME TO EXPLAIN BUT LILITH'S ACCESS WAS REVOKED SO - "

"Pfft wait, they actually locked her out? Oh, wait, she was alive when she defected, that makes sense…"

"JASPER PLEASE I KNOW THIS IS A LONGSHOT BUT IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS - "

"Here I'll just text you my username and password."

"…WHAT???"

"Yeah they never changed it, pretty stupid of them. There you go, sent, feel free to use it as much as you like, it's not like I need it anymore. Also stop calling me."

~

"Listen I know you said you don't care to participate in government BUT I'm just putting out feelers so I wanted to know if you had any ideas on how to de-militarize the Emperor's Coven?"

"What makes you think I understand the first thing about political theory?"

"You were the Emperor's RIGHT HAND MAN."

"Haha yeah, doesn't mean I understood anything."

~

"Did Belos actually acquire the XYZ artifact?"

"Oh, yeah, I got that for him like 20 years ago."

"Great! Do you know where he stored it?"

"Not a clue."

~

"Whispers I am marathoning Cosmic Frontier with my kid, this had better be important."

"Sorry, just - quick question, we're trying to clear Belos's wing of the castle and we need to know, how many secret passages are there in this hallway?"

"Well in the hallway there's five, but there's another two in his chambers and one in his study."

"For the love of - "

"Hm? One sec. …Okay, Hunter says there's actually three in the study and seven in the hallway - wait, but Hunter, you never knew about the grimwalker lab? Huh. Okay so between me and Hunter there are eight in the hallway. That we know of."

"Great. Fantastic."

"Also watch out for the booby traps. And now that I think about it, one of the passages in the bedchamber is probably keyed so that only a human can enter, so you might want to recruit Luz for that."

"Is there anything I can do to get you to come help us clear this place?"

"Absolutely not. Wait, let me check - hey, Hunter, want to go back to the site of our torment to help Whispers and Mason do their jobs? Yeah, didn't think so."

"Alright, alright, sorry for asking."

"Oh, but I do claim anything you find pertaining to grimwalkers as, like, reparations or whatever. At the very least there should be a shelf full of journals in the lab. You can give what's left of Caleb back to the Clawthornes, though, he's their graverobbed great-great-whatever-granddad."

"Oh dear titan."

"Going back to our marathon now, if you have an emergency in the next thirteen hours I am NOT answering my scroll. Byyyyyyye."

SO fucking funny. "here's my password have fun kids" and that's how Raine finds out how jasper has known everything always all the time jehshdhdja. THAT SON OF A-

Don't forget jasper loves being bribed. When hunter is busy or at school jasper can be convinced to do stuff. Mostly with food. Food is a great motivator the man is hungry.

Raine: hey... Can you come and break down the wards in Belos's chambers?

Jasper: no

Raine: you want a house

Jasper: what

Raine: a house. White picket fence. Bay windows. Kitchen nook. You want one

Jasper: wh

Raine: mason will make you a house if you will come deactivate these wards

Jasper: why would I need a house. I have a house.

Raine: you live in a cave.

Jasper: I like my cave.

Raine: I bet hunter would like a house.

Jasper: I'll be right there

[sieglinde-freud]

If you had to pick a second trio of awakening kids to put in fates (on Hishido's side) who would you send, why, and where would put them (ie who's retainers would they be and who would they replace or where would they be serving in Hoshido if not retainers).

SORRY THIS TOOK ME LIKE FIVE YEARS TO GET TO, STEDY… i saw it and i was like “ooh i gotta think about this i’ll come back” and then. and then i forgor… BUT ANYWAYSSS

so, to hoshido????? well… i think realistically theyd go down the popularity poll. they seem to want to avoid lucina (lord) and morgan (two of them, picking one means making one and also one robin canon) so next on the list iirc is noire, brady, and gerome. and i think that could work pretty okay, but i think they just kind of all have one fatal flaw here: none of them would be down to go.

the awakening trio works because yeah!! yeah i absolutely buy all three of them being game to go fuck off to a new world because some pathetic man begged them to help save lives. gerome though?? no!! gerome hardly wanted to go back in time to save HIS OWN WORLD!! brady cant fight CANONICALLY, and i highly doubt he’d want to step foot on another battlefield. and noire… i think someone could make a case for noire being willing to come. but i think she’d prefer staying with tharja and protecting the baby version of herself more. and without proper encouragement which would mostly likely come from severa who is. not here. i dont think she’d be too willing. AND I KNOW THAT MEANS IM MISSING OUT ON NOIRE!RHAJAT BUT… come on. you think im gonna give noire to hayato anyways?? no.

so!! a more interesting alternative? kjelle, cynthia, and laurent. i think kjelle and cynthia would be so down if they thought they were gonna be protecting innocents. kjelle wants to fight, grow stronger, and protect, and her natural element is the battlefield. cynthia wants to be a hero and fight for justice, and what better than a country protecting its homeland? as for laurent, i think he’d also like to save people, but i just think this guy would also like traveling around for education purposes. a new land means more insight to gain, and more things to share with his mother when he comes back. so. yeah. perhaps not the tightest reasoning, but i think its much more realistic than like. gerome. sooo

cynthia would most likely stay a pegasus knight? i dont see a reason to change her class. but armor knight is nohrian while sage doesnt exist in fates (technically. im aware onmyoji is the equivalent) sooo they’d have to change. i think theres a few things you could do with kjelle? spear fighter is probably the obvious choice, but i think kinda similar to owain, she’d like a chance to try out other weapons, probably to demonstrate her strength. and for this im strongly leaning master of arms prepromote. yes she’d still have spear access, but having mastered katanas and clubs during her time in hoshido could be really fun i think. as for laurent… lol. apothecary. hes not really here to fight but like. he can. promote him to merchant and he’ll start throwing the army’s treasury at you. dont fuck with him! but obviously kjelle would have armor knight access via heart seal and i think i’d give laurent troubador over dark mage just to reference miriel having that class in awakening but it could go either way. cynthia would probably have… uh. ummmm… fuck. wait. i dont know. sumia gets armor knight and cleric. can we j be funny and give her merc so she has hero access :/// ok thanks

if were following the same format as the og trio, i would j plant them as retainers to make it simple. and… i think i’d go:

kjelle - ryoma

laurent - hinoka

cynthia - sakura

im completely willing to change on this honestly. i thought long and hard about it and then i went “hm. no.” and ended up here. my logic is that of the awakening trio, laslow definitely seems to be the strongest and is nohr’s crown prince’s retainer, and of these three, kjelle is probably the strongest, so same treatment. i also considered the dynamic between saizo and kagero and i just think she’d work the best with them. no bullshit, just work. plus, in a samurai class (moa promotes from samurai) she’d fit in better with ninja than a flier and a uh. a guy.

i put laurent with hinoka and i almost didnt because i think he could have an interesting dynamic with the other royals too. but then i was like “okay. of the three: who would fit into hinokas retainer dynamic that just seems to be ‘giving hinoka a hard time’” and well!!! i think!!! i think its laurent!!! i think laurent would just be engrossed in his studies and the difference in technological progress compared to ylisse (no fireworks but they have giant puppets??? the dolls with the saws??? TANKS????) and hinokas like “uh. hey. did you eat any of ur last three meals?” and he goes “no but i DID make a gun” and azama and setsuna are just like “woahhh thats fucking awesome dude” and i just think if i gave hinoka kjelle or cynthia it wouldnt be as funny. i do things for the bit. always.

and that leaves cynthia for the other two and… i dont actually think she’d go to takumi. i think sakura and her retainers is a much more realistic possibility because takumis trio is just. so. fucking look at them… itd be odd to shove a fourth person in there. it COULD work, but also i kinda just like the idea of cynthia pledging herself to sakura. she’d be all hyped about it too like “the brave warrior defending her princess?!! yessss!!” and sakura would be like. so down for cynthias flower throwing entrance or whatever (with… sakura petals?? yes????) and idk i just think they would be neat. and she could be a nice mediator between subaki and hana who just like. wont shut the fuck up. she’ll either make it better by being a nice middle man or make it worse by also not shutting up except its about something completely different and no progress gets made. both fine outcomes, i think.

and then they fight nohr and go to war with their besties forevs!!!!!!! wooooo!!!! im not writing that out. you decide how that goes. though i think a cynthia vs selena encounter would be insaane… ooh or like an cynthia vs odin justice cabal thing? oouhhvghh… but this post is long enough anyways hi stedy 👋

#asks #long post AGAIN #its fun to consider how some of them might act in hoshido #i do think the imagery of apothecary laurent is really funny though #has no idea what the native wildlife to hoshido is like so dude is just shoving plants in his mouth like #‘this may kill me. but fuck it we ball?’ #i think him and azama would get on great. #also i think kjellnoka could go CRAZYYYY… like think about it. #one thing that i dont like though is that kjelle and cynthia do not have supports in awakening #but even if we go back to the original next trio gerome and brady dont either??? #i think one of the best parts of THE awakening trio is that they ALL supported and thus all has a foundation to build off of #and thats harder to pull off when youre picking from the rest of them #they have the hotspring convo tho so. close enough? #also ik u said replace but i dont rly like getting rid of any existing retainers bc i just like them all so. WOO THREE RETAINERS!!!

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Main Story: Part 4 - Act 13: Budding Spring - Episode 31: The Story Continues

Izumi: (With the information he gets from Rosaline’s father, Mercutio seeks out the former lord’s subordinates…)

Elder: “My answer won’t change no matter how many times you come here! I have nothing to say to you. Please leave.”

Mercutio: “In that case, then please read this, at the very least.”

Elder: “What’s that?”

Mercutio: “Giorgio-san’s diary.”

Elder: “Giorgio… It can’t be…”

Mercutio: “Giorgio-san. Who attended to the lord around the same time as you.”

Mercutio: “He left Verona, and later passed away. But he was never able to forget about this incident.”

Elder: “I see… Giorgio, too…”

Elder: “*sigh* I did something unforgivable. I gave a false testimony in order to incriminate Alessandro.”

Elder: “My baby had just been born, and I needed the money.”

Elder: “It may have been an order, but it was a horrible thing… I had never thought it would lead to his execution.”

Mercutio: “Then, Alessandro really was innocent. Who did that order come from–”

Elder: “I absolutely can’t say that. Forgive me…”

-

Izumi: (Meanwhile, Tybalt uses his position as the lord’s chamberlain in order to continue searching through the mansion…)

Soldier: “Handle the items in the treasury carefully, please. Let me know when you’re done.”

Tybalt: “Understood.”

Tybalt:  The medal I was asked to bring… Should be this one.

Tybalt: “Hm? This necklace…”

Tybalt: “A ruby stone and sapphires… There’s no mistaking it. This is the Capulets’ family heirloom. But why is it in the lord’s mansion…?”

-

Julius: “The previous lord’s subordinates accused Alessandro with false testimony, and the Capulets’ family heirloom was found in the lord’s mansion, which means…”

Romeo: “What does it mean?”

Julius: “There’s no doubt about it. It was all planned by the previous lord.”

Julius: “The previous lord had his subordinates steal the family heirloom, frame Alessandro, and then executed him.”

Julius: “Bruno’s assassination may have also been an order from the lord.”

Romeo: “But why would he do that…”

Julius: “... This is just my speculation, but he might not have been very fond of the unity between the Montagues and the Capulets.”

Julius: “That was the time when the feudal lords’ power was weakening.”

Julius: “He probably thought that his position would be threatened if the two families connected and amplified their strength.”

Julius: “According to Tybalt, the previous lord was a coward and flighty.”

Gildo: “... Grandpa may have been aware of the truth, at least vaguely.”

Gildo: “And yet, he probably blamed himself for not being able to bring the truth to light, or stop the incident from happening to begin with.”

Gildo: “That’s why he left Verona by himself, and settled here quietly.”

Romeo: “It’s not Giorgio-san’s fault.”

Julius: “Exactly. The blame lies with the previous lord.”

Romeo: “Let’s put an end to this ourselves. I’m sure Alessandro-san and Bruno-san would like that, too.”

Gildo: “Please do…”

Izumi: (It might be because of how long they’ve known each other and their attachment to their roles, but their acting is very natural.)

Izumi: (The stiffness and discomfort Yuzo-san had criticized them about has completely disappeared. Their roles are coming alive on the stage.)

-

Guard A: “Romeo Montague!?”

Guard B: “Did you come all the way back here for your execution!? Capture him!”

Romeo: “Sorry! I need you to let me through! I’ve got something important to discuss with the lord!”

Julius: “Step aside if you don’t want to be hurt!”

Guard B: “Julius Capulet is also being charged as an accomplice! Don’t let them pass no matter what! Stop them!”

Romeo: “I’ll try to make sure I don’t injure you, but– I’m sorry if it hurts! Haa!”

[Sword clanging]

Guard B: “— He’s fast!?”

Julius: “Hah!”

[Sword clanging]

Guard A: “*groans*”

[Romeo and Julius start running while parrying attacks]

Izumi: (This is the intense sword fight Tsuzuru-kun added later… It’s much more powerful than the scene in the debut performance.)

Izumi: (But you can tell Sakuya-kun can perform it with ease.)

Izumi: (Masumi-kun is also increasing his speed to match Sakuya-kun’s, and they’re completely in sync. They’ve both improved so much.)

-

Lord: “To think my grandfather would do something like this…”

Romeo: “This is the Capulets’ necklace. We also have a witness.”

Julius: “The crime Romeo was accused of also has its roots in this incident. Please, be so generous as to release him of his charges.”

Lord: “... Julius is right.”

Lord: “You are acquitted, Romeo.  Return the Capulets’ necklace back to its rightful place.”

Romeo: “Thank you very much!”

Julius: “That’s great, Romeo.”

Romeo’s father: “To think such a thing would happen…”

Julius’s father: “You mean to tell me we were made for fools this entire time… How could this happen…”

Tybalt: “I believe we can simply build a new relationship from now on.”

Mercutio: “I agree. And with that cleared up, Romeo and Julius can come back home, too.”

Romeo: “Well, for now, we plan on continuing our journey. Right, Julius?”

Julius: “Right.”

Tybalt: “Don’t you think you’ve traveled enough? You can come back home now.”

Romeo: “This and that are different.”

Tybalt: “You be quiet, Romeo.”

Julius: “This incident made me realize the importance of going out into the world and expanding my knowledge. I have to see more of this world.”

Tybalt: “Julius…”

Mercutio: “You should return home sometimes. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

Romeo: “Yeah. Thank you.”

Father Lawrence: “The bond between the two of you has cleared away the darkness caused by these long-held regrets.”

Julius: “Thank you so much, for always watching over us.”

Father Lawrence: “I look forward to your letters. May your future journeys be blessed.”

Romeo: “Thank you very much!”

Rosaline: “I’m so glad.”

Mercutio: “It’s all thanks to you and your father.”

Romeo: “Eh…”

Julius: “Rosaline…?”

Mercutio: “Ah… Um…”

Romeo: “Mercutio?”

Julius: “It can’t be…”

Tybalt: “That’s why I told you, you should tell them as soon as possible.”

Mercutio: “I did think of telling them, but, look, so much happened, and there’s that thing we call timing–”

Romeo: “That’s what’s been going on, Mercutio!?”

Julius: “This is the kind of guy they mean when they talk about useless friends.”

Mercutio: “W-Wait, you two! There are a lot of reasons behind this!”

Mercutio: “Rosaline’s previous lover was an awful guy, and I just happened to save her by chance– And anyway, she’d already rejected the two of you–”

Romeo: “Don’t rub salt in our wounds!”

Julius: “No delicacy whatsoever. You should choose your friends better, Romeo.”

Mercutio: “Please listen to my side of the story, Romeo, Julius!”

Tybalt: “Haha.”

-

Gildo: “... Grandpa, I wonder if you’ve finally reunited with Alessandro and Bruno.”

-

Yuzo: (Seems the Newborn Spring Troupe’s style of acting has finally returned.)

Yuzo: (Reminds me of when I saw their debut performance, and thought maybe…)

Yuzo: (That dream of seeing MANKAI Theater’s seats filled and booming with applause once again could come true.)

Yuzo: (You lot should continue moving forward in your own way. I also have to make sure I don’t lose to you.)

-

[applause]

Sakuya: Thank you very much!

Masumi: Thank you very much.

Citron: Thaaank yooouu!

Chikage: Since it’s the first day, how about the leader gives us a greeting for the New Fleur Award?

Sakuya: Huh!? W-What should I say, I haven’t thought of anything.

Itaru: There are things that can only be understood when they’re said directly by the actors who are on top of the stage.

Sakuya: I see… That’s true.

Sakuya: — Thank you very much for coming to the first day performance of “Romeo and Julius ~Rosso e Blu~”!

Sakuya: It’s been a year since we were awarded the Fleur Special Award, and since then a new era has started.

Sakuya: MANKAI Company will continue working in tandem and aim for the Fleur Award!

Sakuya: We will continue working hard, without ever forgetting the moment we stood on stage together during our first performance of “Romeo and Julius”!

Sakuya: Please continue supporting us. And once again, thank you very much for coming!

Tsuzuru: Thank you very much!

Chikage: Thank you very much.

Itaru: See you.

Towa: — —

Towa: (Amazing. The Spring Troupe sparkles on stage even more than they did when I simply met and talked with them.)

Towa: (My heart feels like it’s about to burst. I want to sparkle the way they do…)

Towa: (It might’ve been a trial run, but I stood on that same stage during the workshop…)

Towa: …

previous episode | masterpost | next episode

#a3! #translation #a3! translation #sakuya sakuma #masumi usui #tsuzuru minagi #itaru chigasaki #citron #chikage utsuki #izumi tachibana #yuzo kashima #towa ichinoe

[darlingshane]

big bad wolff

Pairing: Braxton Wolff x Marybeth Medina

Summary: Passing on a contract is a first for Brax, but there's something pulling at his heartstrings that is far more interesting than the money he was offered.

Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Dom/Sub Undertones, Alcohol, Associates with Benefits (or something like that).

Word Count: 2k (precisely)

— You can read below or at AO3.

“Hard pass,” Braxton slides the envelope across the table after taking a quick look at his new target. “I don't fuck with law enforcement.”

“That's the line you draw? Thought you were all about the money.”

“I love money. But a man gotta have a code, too. 'Sides Treasury? It'd put a target on my back.”

“She’s an analyst.”

“Still. Working for the federals.”

“What if I double the offer?”

Braxton raises a brow and opens the envelope again to see the beautiful Marybeth Medina in the photo inside.

As tempting as the offer is…

“I'm sorry, Mr. Calhoun. I'm afraid the answer is still no. What did she do anyway?”

“She's got her nose in my client's business like a rabid dog after a buried bone. The only way to stop her from digging further would be to gently put her down.”

“Hm, I've met women like that.”

“I thought you guys were professionals. Can't you make it look like an accident? What would you say if I added another 50 grand?”

“It’s possible, but accidents can get the wrong people asking the right questions, and I can't have that in my line of business.”

“You're a hitman.”

“And you're a two-time slimy lawyer that scours a six-figure representing the scum of the earth that make me look like the Easter Bunny.”

“I have to say, Mr. Wolff, your reputation does not precede you. Mr. Davenport won't be pleased to know you have refused to do your job.”

“Davenport is not my boss. Tell him I said hi.”

He watches Calhoun like a hawk as the lawyer retrieves his cellphone from Braxton's assistant.

“Did you tap it?” He asks once Calhoun has left the premises.

“Who do you think I am? Of course, I tapped it.”

“Good. You tell H to get a detailed list of all his calls, meetings, texts… I need to know where this asshole eats, when he shits, where he does his dry cleaning…”

“The whole gist. Got it.”

“Put a couple of guys on Medina, too. Just in case.”

“I thought that was your job.”

“Yeah, but I'm afraid they're going to double down now. I can't take those chances.”

“You had to piss him off, didn't you?”

“You know me, sweetheart. My mouth runs faster than my brain. I'm a lost cause.”

Later that night, Braxton sneaks into Medina's building. His guys are already staking the place per his orders.

Medina is not home yet when he breaks into her apartment. It wouldn't be the first time he's done it.

In the dark, he pulls out a mini flashlight and RF detector and checks every nook of her place for hidden bugs.

Given their history, he kinda owes her this one. Even if he didn't, what he said to Calhoun is right, he doesn't fuck with law enforcement. At least not in that sense.

He's going through her desk when Marybeth opens the door.

She’s not surprised one bit to find him there when she turns on the light.

“Look what the cat dragged in. Do you ever just wait for people to invite you in, Mr. Wolff?” She watches Braxton, clad in back, putting his gadgets away.

“Hm, sometimes. But it's not as fun.”

“Business or pleasure?” her frown remains firm as she puts her case down, removes her blazer and steps out of her uncomfortable shoes.

“How about both?”

“Some things never change.”

Marybeth rolls the sleeves of her dress shirt and pulls out a bottle of scotch and two ball glasses from the cabinet, as he takes off his leather gloves and sits at the dining table.

That's how their meetings always start – with a bottle of Lagavulin and a formal debrief that follows with them handling their pressing business between sheets.

“I think I have a mole,” Marybeth realizes after hearing Brax's warning.

“How do you figure?”

“Because only me and my boss know about Davenport LLC. We're still gathering evidence.”

“Is your boss dirty?”

“Ray King?” She chuckles a little, “not a chance in hell.”

“Well, whatever you have on Davenport is making them shit their panties.”

“Davenport doesn’t scare me,” she throws back her glass, taking a big gulp of her drink.

“He should. I’ve seen what he does with pretty faces like yours.”

“You think he’d be that dumb to go after me?”

“He came to me, honey. He is that dumb.”

“You could've just called, you know?”

“Had to make sure nobody was listening.”

“Are they?”

“No.”

“Good. Can we move on now to the pleasure part? I had a long day.”

“I just told you one of the most dangerous men on the planet is after you and you’re not worried at all?”

“Oh, I am worried. But he’s not going to show up tonight, is he? Uh-uh. Not as long as I have The Big Bad Wolff on my side.”

“Gotta say, Medina. You were not like this when we met. You went quickly from little lamb to lion.”

“Maybe I was never a lamb. And, you weren't like this, either. It seems that you actually care about what happens to me, Mr. Wolff.”

“Well, perhaps I do. Would that be so bad?”

“Hm, no. Not at all.” She stands up, offering a hand in his direction. “You coming, Big Wolff?”

“Rock ‘n Roll, girl.”

Braxton downs the rest of his drink and takes her hand, letting her lead the way to her bedroom.

Under the warm glow of the night lamp, and Brax’s brazen stare, her hands undo one by one the buttons of her shirt. As her skin comes to view, he pulls out his boots and slips out of his jacket without letting her out of his sight.

There’s no rush, but the thrill is palpable. It lingers in the air. They’ve already gone through this more times than he can count, and watching her undress her body is just as exciting as all those times he’s ripped her clothes apart.

When they're both stripped to his underwear, his hands automatically are drawn to frame her hips, pulling her body flush against his. Marybeth tilts her head, tentatively seizing his mouth slowly, letting her fingers draw the toned slopes of his arms.

Her tongue moves past his lips as her skin comes alive, buzzing under his palms, as his fingertips sink at the curve of her ass.

Brax tries to take control of the kiss, but Marybeth doesn't waver, and brings one of her hands to hold his chin still. She nibbles his bottom lip before sucking it between her teeth to see it turn dark pink after releasing it.

Usually, she lets him be the one in charge, but tonight she's in the mood for something different. There are things outside this room that escape her control, and here with him is the only thing she can get a semblance of power.

“Thought you wanted the big bad Wolff.”

“I want him on a leash,” her hand curls around his throat without squeezing.

“Yeah? What do I get in return?”

“Me.”

He scoffs and licks his lips, “okay, lil lion, show me what you got.”

Marybeth keeps her hold around his neck, guiding him backwards toward the bed until the back of his legs meet the mattress. He lays down on his back, and she crawls on top of him. She braces her palms on his chest, straddles his lap, allowing her hips to gently circle over his crotch.

His hands are automatically called to hold those beautiful hips that shamelessly grind, earning themselves a good hard-on to enjoy.

Behind layers of underwear, she rubs herself over and over, a little faster each time, letting that sweet spot revel in the friction he provides as the inner side of her panties quickly gets coated in her juices.

Locking eyes with her, he’s utterly mesmerized by the unbearable beauty of Marybeth as she bites her bottom lip. From above, she watches him exhale and buck up like an animal between her legs, trying to drill his way into her.

It's a torturous deed, she's aware. There's a fine line between playing with Brax or riling him up, and she's just lightly tapping on it. If she pressed any harder, it'd be like poking that ravenous wolf.

After a long moment, she brings her hips to a halt and reaches back with her fingers to unclasp her bra. As she tosses it aside, she leans forward to gently bite on his lip.

“Good, Wolff,” she grins, tracing the shape of his lips with the tip of her tongue as her fingers slip under the elastic of his boxers to feel his erection. It fills up her fist, throbs as her hand squeezes just a little harder to have his precum wetting the head.

“Hmm,” his lip curls, showing those teeth he's marked on her skin many times before.

Getting him to a point of perfection, she finally rids herself of her panties and pulls down his boxers. His cock jolts on its own when her knuckles graze his shaft. Propped on her knees, she lifts her ass, lines the blunt tip of his cock with her entrance, and sinks onto him.

In less than a second, as usual, he forgets altogether why he came here as her wet ass pussy slides up and down his hardness.

“Fuck me, girl,” he pants as she sinks all the way down, having her divinely, tight opening pressing around him.

Once she's comfortable enough, she angles her body forward, propping her hands on either side of his head, and moves a little faster. First, just rocking back and forth, and then bouncing with practiced ease as Brax fills his eager palms with her ass. Her breasts are so perfectly round and perked, bouncing dangerously close to his face, he can't help but stick his head up to nibble one of them.

Marybeth, smiling mid-moan, holds his head with one hand as he viciously wraps his lips around her nipple. His grunts ripple all over her skin, making her core ache, as he moves to the other boob.

He uses his teeth this time, there's so much she can do to tame that wild beast beneath her, she wouldn't even stop it if she wanted to. After crossing that line, he's all lips, tongue, and paws claiming her body.

His arms curl around her, and before she realizes, he's turning the tables to get himself on top of her and charge the rest of the way. He desperately pushes into her at full force, coaxing her body into submission. The most beautiful cries come out of her as he drives her into madness when his fingers find their way to her clit.

Having his fingers working furiously on that spot, he bites her neck, scrapes his teeth on her jaw before devouring her mouth. He can't bring himself to stop until he's poured every drop inside her. Braxton gasps for air as he comes undone. His cock is still twitching inside her, trying to ride the wave of his orgasm, when her sweet opening flutters around him. All her muscles seize up for a second as a lightning of pleasure travels through her body.

Holding her jaw, he keeps his mouth open against her lips as his breathing catches and the room suddenly goes quiet below the sound of their shared pants. His stomach presses softly on hers, as he lays completely limp and flat on top of her. If someone were to attack right now, he wouldn't be able to even pick up his gun to defend himself or even stand up. He can think of a million ways worse to die than this, to be honest. Given the opportunity, if he had to choose a way to go, this would be it – post-orgasm, still tucked inside the fine depth of her tender walls, as her fingers softly comb the damp hairs at his nape.

#the accountant #jon bernthal #cynthia addai-robinson #braxton wolff #marybeth medina #the accountant fanfiction #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal smut #brax x marybeth #darlingwrites #requests

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting invites four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan has news to share.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 1,969. Rating: all audiences.)

Chapter 41: Ladies First

The wording of Trevelyan’s letter to her parents would have to be precise.

She thought of it en route her room, quite ready to snatch up the nearest leaf of vellum and start writing.

Of course, she wished to be smug. No more was she their problem—she was her own problem, now. But that sort of tone was not the most sensible of ideas. She would have to remain cautious.

The success of Trevelyan’s staying at the Inquisiton relied upon her putting across, in no uncertain terms, that remaining here was a good and honourable opportunity, and that to take it would be of great benefit to House Trevelyan. After all, they had to agree to the idea.

She hoped to have this missive written and sent by sundown. By nature, it would have to be posted urgent—by bird—thus confining her word count. But that was a necessity, if she wished it to arrive home before they began to wonder why she had not. And if she wished to beat her ladies’ maids inevitable attempt to tell her parents themselves.

Eager to start, Trevelyan bounded up the stairs, into the hallway of the guest rooms. Strange to be here, given that she would not remain a guest for long. Yet she’d miss it, all the same. This corridor was as home to her, now, and her room was—

Open. Her door was open. Noise emanated from within. Shuffling, grumbling. Explanations raced through her mind. Missy and Cara couldn’t have caught wind already, could they?

With a newly-acquired sense of self-importance, Trevelyan strode toward the door.

“What’s going on he—?”

Oh. The scene that greeted her was not precisely the one she’d imagined. The intruders were not her ladies’ maids, in actual fact, but the Ladies—full stop. And they were rather busy at work.

All of Trevelyan’s clothes were out of her trunk, strewn over chairs, her bed, and any other available surface, it seemed. They were being examined with all the scrutiny of a sensechal investigating the robbery of his arl’s own treasury.

She repeated, more gently—and all the more confused: “What’s going on here?”

Lady Samient, currently holding a bundle of blue silks that appeared to be Trevelyan’s Orlesian-style ballgown, asked, “Do you have any other dresses than this?”

“For what?”

The Baroness, mournfully pondering over a few shirts, explained: “We are attempting to find you something for the ball.”

This did not clear Trevelyan’s confusion. “Why?”

Lady Erridge sailed past, carrying Trevelyan’s unused plum dress to Samient for, seemingly, approval. “It’ll be good for you to look your best!” she said—with a wink.

Hm. This couldn’t be because—? Were they already informed? It was not inconceivable that Montilyet would have told them. Or that Skyhold’s power for disseminating rumour had evolved into full-blown telepathy.

Intrigued either way, Trevelyan wondered, “Do you know something I don’t?”

“Oh, no,” replied dear Erridge, as Samient waved away the purplish gown, “we simply think, well—if it is your last night to impress, then that is an opportunity not to be missed!”

So they didn’t know.

“Really? Is that all?”

Lady Erridge giggled. “Well, what better reason?”

“Oh, I can think of one,” Trevelyan teased.

She drifted further into the room, the mystery of her words piquing the interest of each woman she passed. The Ladies quit their fussing over fabric, their fascination now focused on her.

Maker, was she glad they didn’t already know—because it gave her such great delight to be able to say what she said next:

“Well, it is quite essential, I believe, for the Inquisition’s new Arcanist to dress appropriately for her—!”

The noise that erupted from the room could well have been heard in the Anderfels. It was louder than an avalanche, louder than an army, louder than a dragon’s roar. The Ladies screamed—delightedly, of course—and raced to surround Trevelyan, each one full of a thousand questions.

“You are not serious?” said Touledy.

“I am!” she replied.

“You are staying with the Inquisition?” asked Samient.

She nodded.

“Oh, how wonderful!” cheered Erridge.

The sentiment was shared.

Each Lady hurried to offer Trevelyan their congratulatory embrace. Though at first civilised, an attempt made to take it one-by-one, their excitement could hardly be contained. The Ladies’ efforts descended into chaos and giggling, and Trevelyan was soon surrounded by a tangled, loving mass of warm and gentle arms.

She could have cried. It was nice to finally know what family felt like.

The Ladies squeezed ever tighter. Trevelyan laughed, and protested her capture. Of course, they parted—though not without some difficulty. Lady Erridge’s escaping arm almost slapped into the Baroness’ face, though the near-miss was found to be quiet the hilarity!

Soon all came free, unharmed—spare Trevelyan’s shirt, of course, now creased beyond the bounds of reason. But as she smoothed it out, she took the time to explain a little more:

“I am to have my own quarters—permanent ones,” she said. “And in the Undercroft, I shall have an assistant, and license to study whatever I wish—so long as Arcanist Dagna approves. She will remain my senior.”

“And are you finally able to tell us what it is you will study?” questioned Touledy.

Trevelyan laughed. “Not at all! Though not for the sake of secrecy—but because, well, should it not work, I would be terribly embarrassed.”

“Then let us hope it succeeds!” Lady Erridge said. “For I am unrelentingly nosy about the entire thing.”

Lady Samient narrowed her eyes at Erridge, and teased: “You’re still not quite certain what an Arcanist is, aren’t you?”

Erridge giggled in response. “Naturally! But so goes my curiosity—I rather hope that some knowledge of the resulting work might shed some light on the occupation from whence it comes.”

“Turn your curiosity elsewhere,” Trevelyan pleaded, “I beg you!”

“Very well,” said Erridge, collapsing onto a chair. She leant forward, and asked, “Then answer me this: does the Commander know of it?”

Trevelyan very quickly regretted her choice of words. Her mouth struggled to form any more, which of course only raised the intrigue of the Ladies ever more.

“I—ah… I have only just been informed myself, Lady Erridge!” said Trevelyan, in protest. Her most truthful answer was one she could only suppose: “I imagine Lady Montilyet would have told him, yes.”

Erridge gave an excited little shake of her shoulders. “Very good! Do you imagine he’ll be pleased?”

“Well… I’m not certain. I think he should hardly be gleeful to have one of his tormentors in permanent residence.”

Lady Samient chuckled deviously, waving an errant ribbon of chiffon in Trevelyan’s direction. “He must have approved. If he hadn’t, soldiers would already be escorting you out of the castle.”

The Baroness sauntered by, adding, “Exactly. I can hardly think of any reasons for his objection.”

Trevelyan shrugged. “I suppose.”

This masterful display of nonchalance was, obviously, not representative of Trevelyan’s mind-state. For secretly, she hoped he was pleased. Truth be told, she thought he seemed pleased enough when they spoke last. She would quite like him to be pleased by her.

“Furthermore”—the Baroness began toying with one of Trevelyan’s dresses again—“I should think that the Commander would indeed be quite pleased to be rid of all us, and have only Lady Trevelyan stay.”

“All to himself!” Lady Erridge sang.

Trevelyan hushed them. “Please! Whether or not he is glad to be rid of you, I shall not be.”

Because all of this silliness and chatter was merely papering over the crack, widening beneath their feet. None of them had yet acknowledged it—possibly because the pain of the idea was too much to bear—but tomorrow was to be their last day together.

Though a great boon, to remain at Skyhold, this was its terrible cost.

Trevelyan looked to each of them, as this notion was brought to bear. Each face sobered. Though she knew the futility of it, she said it aloud: “I wish you could all stay.”

They did not need to give their excuses in reply. Trevelyan knew them well enough. Lady Erridge had a wedding to plan. The Baroness had to rebuild Val Misrenne. Lady Samient had to find her Vichy, and her home.

A farewell was inevitable.

Yet Lady Erridge smiled, and stood. “Do not worry. We shall all see each other again. After all, you are each invited to my wedding!” She looked to Trevelyan in particular. “And now you are closer than Ostwick, you could visit Coldon whenever you wish! Oh, I should love to host you!”

The Baroness joined her. “Closer to Val Misrenne, too. When it is back to its full glory, you must come. I can host a banquet—and I will choose the guests, this time.”

The Ladies laughed.

“It will be a little harder to visit me,” Lady Samient added, “but I am glad you’ll be staying here, Lady Trevelyan. Lady Montilyet says I can send any correspondence through the Inquisition—if I sent letters here, would you pass messages along to the others?”

Trevelyan nodded, enthusiastic. “Of course! I’d be happy to. And I will send their messages in return. And”—she smiled, and shook her head—“I know not what authority I have to offer this, but you are all welcome in Skyhold, as well. If you ever pass between Ferelden and Orlais, perhaps you could stop here?”

The Ladies all assented, and Trevelyan felt all the better for it. She was determined to see this not as an end, but a beginning. This was the prologue; the next chapter was her new life.

“Let us all spend the day in each others’ company, shall we?” said Lady Erridge. “We shall tidy all this, find something to eat, perhaps have a walk—or play in the gardens!”

Though the Ladies were keen to agree, Trevelyan sighed. “I am afraid there is something to which I must attend,” she admitted. “I have a rather important letter to send.”

It was Samient who understood her meaning first. “Your parents do not know?”

Trevelyan shook her head.

The Baroness twisted her cane, contemplatively. “I hope that they approve.”

“So do I,” Trevelyan replied.

Though she was tired of that. Tired of seeking her mother and father’s approval for every little thing. She didn’t really know why she bothered. It wasn’t as if they ever gave it. For anything.

They wouldn’t approve. No matter how well she laid it out to them. She hadn’t done what they asked; that was insult. Even though what she had managed was far greater than simply marrying herself off to the Commander. No offence.

But that was what she’d always done. Taken what pittance they’d given her, and created something grander with it. She looked over the dresses, laid out across her room.

“Well, we shall clear this up for you, then,” said the helpful Lady Erridge, “so that you can get to writing.”

“No, no,” Trevelyan interrupted, shaking her head. Her feet began to carry her toward one dress in particular. “I think I’ve decided what I shall wear.”

She stopped before it: the deep blue ballgown, shimmering and extravagant. The very gown she’d worn upon her first meeting with the Commander. The gown her mother had intended her to ensnare him with.

She ran her fingers over the silk, rubbed the lace between them, felt the quality in its finesse. It was a good dress, always had been. Her hatred of it had never been the dress’ fault. It was simply the intended usage that was the problem.

Trevelyan smiled.

“I want to wear this,” she told the Ladies, “though—if you don’t mind—I could use some assistance in making a few alterations.”

#unwanted #unwanted fic #sorry again that this took so long. i was on such a roll! i've been quite upset about it. glad to get this done so i can try get back on it #here's how i broke writer's block: i went to an actual castle. stood in the castle. and it was like. ah. this is what it's like in a castle #now the holiday days i was going to use to recover are free. i wonder what i'll do instead??? #just kidding i already drafted part of next chapter!!! let's gooooo!!!

[notayesmanseconomics]

What is the truth about Bank of England QE and HM Treasury losses?

As I switched on the television this morning I was surprised but pleased to see that the subject of Bank of England QE bond buying was being discussed on Sky News Breakfast. As you can imagine it made an old bond trader very happy! However there is also a serious point as large financial decisions have been made on our behalf by a body which is unelected. The ordinary person is unlikely to know…

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#Bank of England #Bank Rate #business #Chancellor Osborne #economy #Finance #HM Treasury #QE #QE Losses #QT #Shadow Secretary to the Treasury

[maironsbigboobs]

Starlight (ao3)

Warnings: Major Character Death, minor gore, angst

It was Naugladur, son of Njal, the King of Nogrod whose axe brought low Mablung of the Heavy Hand.

 Mablung had sat him on his knee as a boy.

 He had been to Nogrod many times, on errands from the King. He had stayed in the hall of King Njal, just as he had for his father, and his father’s father before him.

 (There were too many of them. Mablung was alone; his soldiers he had given orders to help the innocent escape, so that he might complete his Queen’s final order - he would take the jewel to Lúthien)

“Welcome to Nogrod, Captain Mablung. Long have we awaited your coming! Last I saw you I had no grey in my beard.”

“King Njal,” He bowed low, a hand across his chest, and chuckled. “You shall find my hair is still greyer than yours. You are still young.”

“Mahal bless the silver tongue of Elves,” Njal gestured for Mablung to follow him out of the hall and into a receiving room. The Queen sat there with a small child on her lap, who scrambled behind her skirts as she stood to greet him.

“Captain Mablung. It is an honour.”

“Queen Yrsi. The honour is mine, and my lord’s. I bring fair words from Menegroth and fairer gifts; as befitting the coronation of a king.” He had not been invited, of course, but he had not been expecting one; the ceremony for crowning a Dwarf-king was private and he had no wish to intrude.

(He raised his spear, standing before the treasury door. Naugladur was accompanied by twelve strong warriors. But Mablung was mighty, and Mablung was desperate, and three died by his spear and a fourth by his sword. The first blow of Naugladur’s axe connected with the back of his knees as he pulled his sword from the grasp of a dying warrior’s chest.)

“And this must be the young Crown Prince?”

“Naugladur, come now, and greet our guest.”

 The child emerged shyly and offered a stiff bow, which Mablung returned – an almost comical gesture, given the child hardly even reached his knees, and the young Dwarf giggled. Mablung’s lips twitched in a smile.

Soon he was seated, listening to Njal recount tales of all that he had missed in the decades since his last visit. Mablung sat on one of the low couches, generously provided specifically for elven visitors, to save them from sitting on the floor – though Mablung would not have minded that.

Naugladur watched him with wide, fascinated eyes as his father talked, watching him drink his tea and eat the sweet cakes he had been offered. Little by little, the young prince edged closer, until he was standing by Mablung’s leg.

 (The second blow sliced open his chest. Mablung’s rattling grasp brought up blood. Agony bloomed in his chest, ribs crushed, flesh sliced open. He fell forward, onto his face, the thick dark blood seeping into the stone around him. He could not speak – his voice would not work, even as he tried to call out – for help, for mercy, for an end. The treasury doors burst open.)

 “Master Elf,” Naugladur asked, his voice gaining in confidence – they spoke in their shared common tongue, as the prince had not yet learnt Sindarin and Mablung knew only a handful of Khuzdul words. “Will you tell us a story?”

“Hm,” Mablung smiled and sat back, patting his knee, and the young prince climbed up onto his lap, to better here the story Mablung was beginning to tell. “I will tell you a story of starlight. Do you know how the elves came to the forests?”

Naugladur shook his head. 

“It was in the ancient days, when there was only bright starlight. We had walked far from the shore of our birth, led by the forefathers of elves, led by my lord Thingol.” Mablung began, speaking of the deep forests he had wandered in, the wondrous caves he had explored, the great monsters he had slain in defence of his people. “We wandered down along the river Sirion, with nothing but the stars for company - except ourselves, of course. We loved the forests of Doriath so dearly, we made our home there."

“You speak of the stars like they were alongside you, Master Elf.” Naugladur giggled, leaning against Mablung, eyes bright with wonder and awe.

“Elves love the starlight as dwarves love the light of gems.”

Njal interrupted with a chuckle. “If King Thingol’s commissions are any measure, elves too love the light of gems.”

 “That is true,” Mablung conceded with a laugh of his own. “

“Do you miss the stars, Master Elf, now that we have the Sun?”

Mablung laughed. “In the dark, on the clear nights, we can still see the starlight – it comforts us in our terrors, soothes our grief, guides our paths.”

 Naugladur was quiet as Mablung finished his tale. The young prince played with the edge of his sleeve, clearly deep in thought, in the serious yet innocent manner of children.

 “You have good stories, Master Elf. Will you tell me more?”

 (He crawled towards the open door, even as his life and his insides spilled from him. Naugladur laughed, triumphant, and lifted the Silmaril in its prison of white gems. White gems that twinkled like starlight. Mablung could see nothing else, the shimmering Treelight filling his vision entirely – he raised out a hand, the same hand that had once lifted the Silmaril from the belly of the wolf.

I want see the starlight one last time.

Mablung of the Heavy Hand died in the light of the Trees, encircled by the stars.)

#mablung #my fic #:)

[all-action-all-picture]

Battle Action No. 228, dated 21 July 1979. H.M.S. Nightshade cover by Mike Western. Treasury of British Comics.

#21jul #1979 #hms nightshade #mike western #battle #battle action #treasury of british comics

[downthetubes]

Out Today: the all-new Battle Action #1, available in comic shops, featuring “Johnny Red” and “HMS Nightshade”

Out Today: the all-new Battle Action #1, available in comic shops, featuring “Johnny Red” and “HMS Nightshade”

View On WordPress

#Battle Action #Dan Cornwell #downthetubes News #Garth Ennis #HMS Nightshade #John Higgins #John Wagner #Johnny Red #Keith Burns #Treasury of British Comics #War Comics

[hitchell-mope]

(The Wedding Conversation)

Lucy: here.

Kara: what’s this?

Lucy: a cheque for 800 million dollars.

Kara: wow! Want me to give this to Alex and Kelly?

Lucy: no. I bought them a China tea set. The one in the catalogue that Kelly circled with orange felt-tip. The cheque is for you and Mon El.

Kara: yeah I think everyone got them the China tea set WHAT?!?! 800 MIL-800 million dollars? Where did you get it from?

Lucy: me. James. Alex and Kelly. Winn and Samantha. Cat and Carter. Clark and Lois. Thea Queen and her niece. Barry and Iris. Sara Lance. Actually Sara’s the reason why it’s a cheque. I didn’t know what year the money was from. For all I know she could’ve robbed a treasury during prohibition.

Kara: yeah she does that. But why?

Lucy: the boys are what? Six months old now? They’ll be walking soon. Flying soon. The loft is no place to raise your family. James and I found this great bungalow for you guys. It has three guest bedrooms. Four if the twins share until they’re older. En suite bathrooms. Walk in wardrobe in the master bedroom. Giant backyard you can cover in baby safe foam material. Plus. It’s still in National City. So you can still be Supergirl and Valor. You win. Everybody wins.

Kara: I can’t accept this.

Lucy: yes you can. Look, Kara. Fact of the matter is. We’re family.

Kara: we’re Space Balls. You’re my cousin’s sister in law. We’re virtually nothing to each other.

Lucy: and yet I still wanted to help you and your family. What does that tell you?

Kara: I’ve been an ass?

Lucy: only occasionally. Okay look. I know we don’t see eye to eye on everything. You prefer to talk things out before you start punching and I prefer to use brute force before talking.

Kara: yup.

Lucy: but we’re still family. And after what you’ve been through. You deserve this. Which brings me to my next point.

Kara: what?

Mon El: Cat just told me that your job is ready and waiting for you whenever we get back.

Kara: our honeymoon. I completely forgot.

Mon El: oh yes!

Lucy: we can move your stuff in. Alex and Winn know where you like to put everything. It’ll all be ready for you when you get back. Just send holograms of the chubby cheeks and vomitron.

Mon El: is Tony vomitron?

Lucy: does my hair still smell like milk and crackers?

Kara: yes.

Lucy: then yes. Tony’s vomitron.

Kara: thank you Lucy. Sincerely.

Lucy: it’s what I’m here for.

Mon El: how did you think this up though?

Lucy: well I have new memories of Clark and Lois dealing with their boys emerging powers. So I thought you’d need a house more equipped for new parents.

Kara: how’re we gonna spin it?

Mon El: hm?

Kara: the city depends on us. We can’t just leave them for a year.

Lucy: well I say fuck em. You’ve given six years of your life to this city. You’ve been tortured, hunted and almost killed multiple times. It will survive without you guys for twelve months. And between all of us at the DEO. The city’s in more than good hands.

Kara: it still doesn’t seem right to me. Kara Danvers can’t just disappear. Maybe we should release a state-

Lucy: please don’t. You don’t need more Lena’s blaming you for everything. Forget about Kara Danvers. Forget about Mike Danvers. Forget about Supergirl and Valor. Kara Zor El and Mon El need their say. Your real lives have had to be a secret for a long, long time. You more than deserve the chance to be yourselves.

(Kara still doesn’t seem convinced)

Mon El: hey. Honey. Look at me. What was our plan for when we got married?

Kara: go to Argo on our honeymoon and have a second wedding there.

Mon El: and what did Sarah Jane tell the Doctor at the end of Journey’s End?

Kara: “you have the biggest family on earth”.

Mon El: and your family encompasses planets and dimensions and, let’s face it, occasionally time periods. And your birth mother deserves to know her grandsons. Plus. I wanna get to know my in laws that aren’t Eliza, Alex and Kelly. But you can’t keep ignoring a whole entire half of yourself because you’re afraid of what others might think of you. That’s no way to live.

Kara: let’s do it.

Mon El: what? Really?

Kara: yes. Let’s go to Argo for a year. I mean not right away. We’re babysitting Esme for two weeks while Alex and Kelly are on their honeymoon. And we’ll have to release a statement as our Alter Egos saying we won’t be around for a while. But we’re going to Argo.

Mon El: YES!

(He picks up Kara and spins her around)

Esme: Uncle Mon. Aunt Nia’s asking for you.

Mon El: ooh it’s bouquet time.

Kara: what?

Mon El: I promised Nia I’d stop Andrea getting the bouquet.

Kara: oh she’s gonna hate you for that.

Mon El: I’m planning on it. C’mon!

Kara: WHAHOO!

(End of The Wedding Conversation)

#arrowverse #supergirl #kara danvers #mon el #mon el defense squad #karamel #lucy lane #anti lena luthor #my universe