tower-of-david

theguardian.com
This was a monstrous crime – there must be arrests after Grenfell Tower | David Lammy
If the preventable deaths of people burning in their homes are not a matter for the state, then what is?
By David Lammy

“Don’t let them tell you it’s a tragedy. It’s not a tragedy, it’s a monstrous crime. Corporate manslaughter. They were warned by the residents that there was an obvious risk of catastrophe. They looked the other way. We don’t need another review kicked into the long grass and years of equivocation– what a civilised country should demand is arrests and a criminal trial before a judge and jury.”

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8 June 1492 | The death of Dowager Queen Elizabeth Woodville

From Elizabeth Woodville: Mother of the Princes in the Tower by David Baldwin:

Elizabeth died at Bermondsey Abbey nearly two months after making her will, on Friday 8 June 1492. Her body was conveyed by boat to Windsor on Whit Sunday, 10 June… accompanied by Prior Ingilby, Dr Brent, Edward Haute, her second cousin, and two gentlewomen, one of them her husband’s illegitimate daughter, Grace. The wooden coffin was taken ‘prevely’ (privately or secretly) from the Thames to the Castle and was received there at eleven at night by a single priest and a clerk. There was no ringing of bells nor formal reception by the dean and canons of St George’s Chapel, and she seems to have been interred almost immediately without any form of ceremony. The Marquess of Dorset, his half-sisters Anne, Catherine and Bridget, Edmund de la Pole (the slain Earl of Lincoln’s brother) and other relatives reached Windsor on Tuesday, and that evening the Bishop of Rochester conducted the services of dirige and requiem mass. The Queen was prevented from attending by her impending confinement; but the King, and other senior peers and churchmen were all conspicuous by their absence, and one of the heralds present was shocked by the general modesty of the proceedings. His comment that ‘ther was nothyng doon solemply for her savyng a low herse suche as they use for the comyn people with iiij wooden candilstikks abowte hit’ and that there was ‘ther never a new torche, but old torches, nor poure man in blacke gowne nor hoods, but upon a dozeyn dyvers olde men holdyng old torches, and torches ends’ requires no elaboration, and it is unclear why the Dean of Windsor, who was present, played no part in the services himself. It is sometimes suggested that Elizabeth had requested a simple and inexpensive funeral out of a deep sense of piety and that was accordingly what she was given: but she would have been aware that a deceased’s estate normally bore these expenses, and that queenly obsequies were beyond her means. Elizabeth may have thought of piety in terms of poverty, although few great noblewomen would have chosen austerity or thought money and their faith incompatible. Margaret Beaufort, who was as pious as she was powerful, used her great wealth to found chantries and university colleges and to support numerous religious ‘good causes’, and when she died in June 1509 her total assets, in plate, jewels and rich materials still amounted to £14,724. Her elaborate funeral, which cost £1,021, was a far cry from Elizabeth’s impoverished burial when, it seems, Dorset paid the 40s in alms which was distributed after mass out of his own pocket. Requests for a modest funeral were a mark of humility, largely ignored by contemporaries who felt that the deceased should be buried in accordance with his or her rank in society, and it is difficult to believe that she who had once been Queen of England had insisted upon this dismal and unqueenly ending. Be that as it may, in the course of her life Elizabeth had mourned the deaths of all five of her brothers, all but one of her seven sisters, four of her five sons and two of her daughters, and she may have felt that there was little to detain her in this world when her own time came.

On this day in history, 26th of May 1465, Elizabeth Woodville crowned queen of England In Westminster Abbey.

“Arrangements for Elizabeth’s coronation began as soon as the Christmas festivities were over, In January the King sent envoys to Philip, Duke of Burgundy, inviting him to send an appropriate delegation (and particularly his wife’s uncle, Jacques de Luxembourg, Seigneur de Richebourg) to represent him at the ceremony planned for Sunday before Pentecost, 26 May 1465. On 14 April 1465 Edward wrote to the Mayor of London to inform him that ” we have certainly appointed and concluded the coronation of our most dear and most entirely beloved wife the Queen to be in our palace at Westminster” and that the Mercers and other city companies should begin to prepare to receive her in an appropriate manner.

What were Elizabeth’s feelings at that great moment? We can only speculate but it is likely that foremost among them would have been apprehension, an apprehension stiffened by determination to fulfill her new role as England’s first lady . Perhaps now, for the first time, she sensed the reality, and the enormity of the task facing her, and the finality of the process which had begun with her simple, private wedding…she was acutely conscious that some thought her unsuitable and unworthy. Were they perhaps hoping for some lapse, some indication that she lacked the “queenliness” of a lady born into purple, and were they relieved or disappointed when everything ran smoothly? It was an exiting, almost dreamlike experience"

-  “Elizabeth Woodville: Mother of the Princes in the Tower” by David Baldwin

All for me/Peter Pan Smut

Originally posted by pan-imagines-ig

Most of these are taken from my Wattpad account! (Twtrash01)

Send me requests for the following Fandoms: Teenwolf, Vampire Diaries, Dolantwins, OUAT(Peter Pan, Robbie Kay, Supernatural, Suicide Squad, The 100. Basically I’ll write for any fandom. I’ll write non-smut as well. Be specific in what you want! *I DON’T OWN ANY GIFS*

Request:  Okay so what if Emma swan and rumple and everyone want leverage? So they take the reader, pans lost girl, and kidnap her. They bring her to storybrooke. Pan is in love with her and all of the lost boys are protective of her because she’s one of them. She is like the left side of Pan while Felix is his right hand you get what I mean? So anyways Pan and the lost boys decide they’re going to go to storybrooke. Since they’re creepy as fuck haha they’re going to do everything they can to get her back. Meaning they put dream shade all over their weapons and are going to massacre everyone in order to get their lost girl back. So they get to storybrooke in a creepy large group with their creepy cloaks and their weapons covered with dreamshade (arrows axes etc). Also can Pan have a crossbow like the one he had henry use on Felix?

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This rabbit hole goes deep. Tons of other artists ripped off in this Etsy shop: https://www.etsy.com/shop/TheGeekFind/items LOTR by Jimmy Cauty. Name of the Wind (title?) by Marc Simonetti. Eddard Stark with Ice by Michael Komarck. The Gunslinger by Steve Stone. Dark Tower (title?) by David Finch. Please identify the artists and spread the word. 374 products in their shop. I’m exhausted.

Happy Valentine’s Day @fairytalesandtimetravel!!! I had so much fun talking to you this month, though I apologize for how infrequent it got as the school year decided to slam everything down on me. Now this is a bit more St. Patrick’s Day than Valentine’s, but I loved your prompt and pulled in some of my own experiences as well ;)


“Doesn’t this country know it’s summer?” Emma grumbled as she pulled her beanie more snugly around her ears.

Her new beanie, made with genuine Irish wool (dyed green, since Mary Margaret said it matched Emma’s eyes), because it was the end of June and Emma had foolishly believed that she could wear summer clothes on this trip around the British Isles.

But apparently Ireland hadn’t received the message that the summer solstice had passed two days before; the rolling green hills were capped with low-hanging gray clouds, blocking any sunshine from warming the air. Everyone had bought out the gift shop’s supply of wool sweaters and scarves the night before, after the news report that the next few days were sure to be more of the same. As she dubiously eyed the path up to the castle, Emma had yet to decide if there was a constant drizzle or if it was just that foggy, but either way the weather was chilly and damp.

And the most infuriating thing of all? The island still managed to be one of the most beautiful places she’d ever been to.

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“ Her [Elizabeth Woodville] devotion to Edward was obvious and she had fulfilled her role impeccably. Her beauty had not occasioned any scandal….and those who had feared the worst in those now far-off days of the 1460s had learned to respect, and admire, a lady who had proved herself to be everything an English Queen should be. ” - “Elizabeth Woodville: Mother of the Princes in the Tower” by David Baldwin

deanfucker  asked:

Can we cry together over gentle!spiritual!bamf!punk!Cas???????

HO YES MY FRIEND START THE WATERWORKS

  • Cas going to basement shows and standing watch over the girl passed out on somebody’s ratty couch
  • Cas sitting in a smoking circle reciting bible stories - Creation, Jonah and the Whale, the Tower of Babel, David and Bathsheba - hell, maybe even reciting the Song of Songs, in a low voice as he takes a joint from someone’s fingers
  • Cas breaking up mosh fights
  • Cas STARTING mosh fights
  • (either is acceptable in the right moment)
  • Cas picking up change off the floor at a Saturday night show and putting it in the collection basket in church the very next morning
  • Cas letting kids on the street touch his jacket and his hair and his earrings
  • Cas smiling at everyone who sneers at him or looks at him funny
  • Cas being the sweetest guy and also a god damn bad ass
  • CAS
  • C A S
  • CAS!!!!!!!!
romancoin's Prompt: Part Four- Best Laid Plans

Premise of the Prompt: Claire goes back in time to break Jamie out of Ardsmuir with the help of old war buddies.

You can find the first three parts on the blog… I can’t link back to them on mobile, but everything’s tagged romancoinprompt if you want to find it that way.

Morning of the prison break.


David had infiltrated Ardsmuir without trouble the night before, gaining valuable intel on which cell Jamie was in. That was the only thing we hadn’t been able to ascertain in the future. Rosters of Jacobites, routines of inmates, and rotations of guards had all been dutifully recorded in Lord Grey’s diary, but there had not been a need to document which particular area of the prison an individual inmate was in on a particular day.


Our plan was this:


Walt, our decoy Lord Henry Beauchamp, would enter the prison under the guise of an appointment with the Governor. The two would converse as Murtagh and Fergus got Jamie onto the moor, then rendezvous with Ian and I at Ellen’s tower.


This left Walt and David as our diversions within the prison. David would cause an explosion in the armory, sending all available men in that direction. This would, in all logic, fluster the good Governor into a frenzy in which he could sign something he didn’t really read. The document would pertain to the inmate James Fraser, thus linking all three names officially. Walt would then plant a copy of the release in the Lord’s papers to be discovered once Jamie’s absence was detected. Walt would then make his exit and David would follow once he was clear.


That was the plan, of course. How it would all actually go down wouldn’t be known for hours yet.



Brianna flat out refused to be left behind at Lallybroch with Marie, Robert, and newly introduced Aunt Jenny. I didn’t want her anywhere near the wretched place where her father was imprisoned and tried every bribe, threat, and petition I could think of to get her to stay.


Ian found this highly amusing and settled back on the settee to watch the battle of wills unfold. I glared at him, wishing for an ally over a spectator.


“I don’t care if you make me eat bread and water for a week!” Bree stomped her foot, blue eyes blazing. “If you won’t let me come, I’ll just wait until you leave and then follow you!”


“Now tha’s a Fraser plan if I ever heard one,” Ian chortled. Maybe I’d make an ally of him yet in this battle, “An’ wha’ good would ye do yer poor Mam and Da wanderin’ lost in the middle of the moor?”


Brianna’s chin rose a good two inches, “I wouldn’t get lost.”


Jenny swiftly stopped her husband from laughing again, seeing the child was actually completely confident in her navigation skills and didn’t him want to taunt her further. “Brianna, lass, I want to go wi’ yer mam and the men too, but I need ye to wait wi’ me, aye?”


Brianna looked between Jenny and I, as if weighing her options. Her hands were clenched at her sides and her jaw was set in stone. Her voice was low and even when she finally spoke. “No. Mama needs me. My father needs me.”


“I will stay where you tell me to and not move an inch, I will follow directions to the letter, and I will be as quiet as a mouse, but I am going with you. I’m not a baby! I know what’s going on and I want to meet my father doing something he’d be proud of, not sitting at home like a little girl.”



We heard the explosion from Ellen’s tower. Ian and I shared a nervous glance over Brianna’s head, unsure if the scale of this distraction had been part of the plan or if something had gone afoul.


The silence that followed was just as deafening. I knew it would take them a good bit to ride from there to here, but my heart strained harder by the minute to hear any sound that beckoned the return of my husband.


Ten years.


What would he look like? It wouldn’t be the years that aged him, but the trauma within them. Culloden, the threat of harm to his family by his presence in the cave, the voluntary imprisonment in order to keep them safe.


I pressed my cheek against the cold stone wall of the tower, sliding my eyes shut to see him as I had so many times before. Soon, I would no longer need my memories and imagination, I would stand before him. I’d be feel the strength and assurance of his arms around me.


And Brianna. My heart clenched at the echo of the words she spoke this morning.


“My father needs me.”


She was so like him, in both appearance and spirit. Would he see it too? Or would he only see the years we had lost? The milestones and memories that had been torn from him that I had shared with Frank?


I don’t know how long I stood that way, but the skin of my cheek was numb when Brianna came up alongside me. I gathered her in my arms and she melted into me. In her own quiet way, she let me know what she was feeling.


Kissing the top of her head, I whispered, “It won’t be long now.”


Ian moved from his post just inside the entrance and stepped out into the rain. The action made my heart drop to my toes, my grip tightening around Brianna. I could now hear what he had, the steady thundering of horses hooves.