#Kings Counsel

[scotianostra]

March 14th 1900 saw the birth of Scottish lawyer, Dame Margaret Kidd in Bo’ness. 

Today, there are around 130 practising female advocates in Scotland. Before 1923 there had been none; then along came Margaret Henderson Kidd.  

Margaret was brought up in Carriden, and that over the decade the Kidd family grew.; Margaret lived with her parents and now had five brothers and three sisters.

She educated at Linlithgow Academy, Kidd later studied law at the University of Edinburgh, graduating with an MA and LLB in 1922. Her early training was conducted with Mitchell and Baxter, writers to the signet, in Edinburgh. Although her first choice of career was the Foreign Office, the then Permanent Secretary, Mr Eyre Crowe, ‘was opposed to women’, so instead Kidd decided to follow her father and go into law. 

In 1923, Kidd was called to the Faculty of Advocates and became the first female with the right to plead in the Court of Session, the highest civil court in Scotland. The event attracted great interest from members of the faculty and the legal profession, as well as the media. The Scotsman newspaper, as was typical of press coverage of women in the news, took special interest in Margaret’s outfit, reporting that she wore a ‘coat frock of black crepe morocain, a soft white collar with a narrow white bow tie, and a straw hat trimmed with velvet.’ Later in the day she donned the wig and gown as she formally entered her new role.

Between 1923 and 1948 she remained the only lady advocate. Kidd was the first lady advocate to appear before the House of Lords and before a parliamentary select committee. Kidd also had the distinction of becoming the first woman KC in Britain, preceding Helena Normanton and Rose Helibron who were appointed KC in England and Wales in 1949.

While Kidd appears to have downplayed the significance of her role and career in interviews – “I don’t know what they made all the fuss about” - it is clear that others, including her alma mater, were aware of and followed her progress. In the University of Edinburgh’s records of graduations, Kidd’s entry includes several newspaper clippings tracking parts of her career and life.

In 1930 Margaret married Donald Somerled MacDonald in Carriden Parish Church. Donald was a Writer to the Signet and member of the firm Scott and Glover, Hill Street, Edinburgh. . The couple went on to have one daughter, Anne.

During the Second World War, Margaret played a prominent part in organising Christmas treats and functions for the wives and dependants of men serving with the 14th Light Anti-Aircraft Regiment, and particularly the 39th Battery, of which her brother Col. J. T. Kidd was then in command.

Margaret’s professional life also led her to sit on the committee of Representatives of Poor Persons in Scotland as a referee under the Widows and Orphans and Old Age Contributions Pensions Act, and to undertake the Assistantship in the class of Public Law at Edinburgh University.

Margaret Kidd spent much of her life in India Street, Edinburgh. Donald had died in 1957, leaving Margaret a widow for over 30 years until her death on 22 March 1989 in Cambridge. A funeral service was held at the Canongate Kirk, Edinburgh. A eulogy by Lord Hope of Craighead echoed what had been printed about her 41 years earlier by the Scotsman:

‘Her success was won by strength of character, courage and integrity and is a mark of her true qualities that, despite what might seem to be the revolutionary nature of her achievements, she always held the affection and respect of others.’ 

[kettlefire]

Prepare for the unexpected. (DPxDC)

Everyone knew about the reign of Pariah Dark. Even those who did not dabble in those realms have heard the tale of the tyrant. A power-hungry man who ruled over the dead with an iron fist.

Following the rise of Pariah Dark, his realm had been effectively cut off from communication. Many mystics and magic users knew better than to open the door of nightmares that could arise if Pariah Dark's reach went further than his own realm.

Except, the universe had plans to bring the realm of the dead back into the cards.

A new opponent, one that had all of Earth's heroes scrambling for options. A being with powers of a god over weather, destruction was on the horizon. A world ending threat.

It's the only reason the Justice League was doing this. In a deep bunker, far from close civilization as a precaution, the heroes looked on with grim expressions.

The world was already being threatened. It would be destroyed regardless of what the league did. So it only made sense to make the last ditch effort. To summon someone strong enough to defeat the threat.

No one wanted to do it. No one wanted to be the one to pull the realm of the dead back to the living. The consequences were untold if this succeeded. If Pariah Dark was freed and defeated the threat, whose to say he won't want control?

That was a problem for later. For the aftermath. For now, the league could only watch on with bated breath as Constantine completely the summon ritual.

They watched on as the shadows in the room seemed to darken and grow. As the sigil sputtered to life with a glow that was growing increasingly brighter. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, the temperature began to drop with eaching ticking second.

And then it was all gone.

The room stood perfectly still. Just as it had been moments before. Nothing changed. No giant king standing before them, no sign that the ritual worked.

The room stood deadly still for another beat before the murmurs started. The team trying to make sense of the situation, figure out what went wrong.

Constantine swore up and down that this was the correct ritual, taking offense that they would even think the problem was on his end. It only made it better when it finally happened.

A loud sound ripped through the room, pulling everyone's attention back to the summoning circle. Just in time to see a tear appear in the space above the circle.

A thin tear that ran the length of eight feet. The fabric of the dimension seems to curl at the edges, pulling back to reveal a deep glowing swirl of greens. A dark gloved hand reached through, fingers curling around the edge of the tear, stretching it even further.

A portal. The ritual had worked, but there had been a delay. A delay that had every hero nerves on edge. Each team member tensed, weapons at the ready as they watched the being stretch the portal to the right size.

Then, a foot stepped out with a heavy thud. A dark boot that looked otherworldly despite its similarity to mortal clothing. A deep black that seemed never-ending. A second foot quickly followed before a full body emerged from the portal.

Not many people in the room have ever seen Pariah Dark, let alone know what to expect. Based on what Constantine and Zatara had said, this wasn't Pariah Dark.

A man had stepped out of the portal, standing at almost seven feet tall, and built like a brick house. One glance at the glowing white hair, deadly red eyes, and shard teeth was enough to know this being was not to be messed with.

But there was no giant show of armor or royal garbs. There is no large crown at the top of his head or jewelry from the infinite realms laced around his neck.

Instead, the man stood before them in combat boots, worn-in ripped jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a spiked leather jacket. Despite his almost normal clothing choice, the man's jacket seemed to be a never-ending depth of the dark night sky. If one was to look closely enough, the cosmos could almost be made out in the sea of darkness.

None of that would have prepared them for when the man spoke. His tone sounded more bored than anything as he took a step forward.

"Oh, so now you need the help of the dead." The man had spoken, running a hand through his hair. When Batman took a step forward to speak, the man raised a hand. Immediately commanding silence in the single gesture. "I'm on babysitting duty and have yet to have a cup of coffee. I'll be right back."

Just like that, both the man and portal vanished into thin air. Leaving behind a group of stunned heroes. Not only was the man not Pariah Dark, but he was also supposedly babysitting.

"Did that just-"

The Flash had been the first voice to speak up, his eyes trained on where the man had once stood. Except he had barely made it through the first few words before the man was suddenly back.

The man that now had a child hanging off his shoulders and another teen being held up by his scruff. Unlike the man, these kids looked human.

Too human for Bruce's liking. The dark black hair and bright blue eyes had every heroes eyes flickering to Batman for just the briefest moment.

"This isn't fair! I'm not even the king. Why do I have to be here!" The teenager had been complaining the moment the man had reappeared. Arms crossed tight over his chest and seemingly used to being held dangling. "Besides, who brings kids to a show down! Wait til I tell mom about this."

"Aw, come on, Danny. This is gonna be fun!!" The younger girl seemed in much better spirits than the teen, Danny. She had climbed up the large man, sitting on his shoulders and resting her arms on the mess of glowing hair. "It's like take your kids to work day! Ooo, Dan! Can we fight too!?"

Unlike the two kids, the man looked purely exhausted and annoyed. The man, Dan, dropped Danny like a sack of potatoes as he took a long drink from the travel cup in his hand.

It didn't take a genius to recognize the look of an exhausted parent in Dan's expression. A look many of the league members were well acquainted to. A look that even had Batman grimacing with sympathy.

"Can it, little shits. You two were grounded, remember." Dan had growled at the kids before shifting his focus back on the team of heroes before them. His glowing eyes set in a deadly glare. "Pariah Dark isn't coming, and he never will. He's been dethroned and banished. We're the best you've got."

A summoning that started with a group of on edge and scared heroes looking for the ghost king, ended in a way no one expected.

No one was even sure if it made any sense. They weren't sure if they should feel hopeful or in despair.

Because truly, what was a ghostly man with two seemingly human children against a godlike foe with the control over the weather?

The unspoken question of power and ability seemed to vanish following Dan downing the metal travel cup of coffee, and crushing it in his fist.

He tossed it to the side, straighting up his posture as he looked over the heroes. Dan might not be a hero, but he's been playing family for too long.

An almost feral, bloodhungry grin spread across the man's face, sharp fangs on full display. The look made the man suddenly look even less human. He looked closer to a demon from the pits of hell rather than the exhausted parent he looked just a few seconds ago.

"Point me in the direction of this bastard. It's been too long since I let loose and had some fun."

[sylvancastor]

Aemond: I'm about to commit some crimes that are so one dimensional

[deconstructthesoup]

The thing with writing Crowcat is that I'm always torn between the amazingly compelling, beautiful, and angsty storyline of the Cat King and Monty realizing that neither of them need to be alone, finding solace in each other, making each other happy again, and tearing down the world if someone hurts the other... and facing the fact that a relationship between two canonically bitchy characters who are a crow and a cat, two of the singularly most petty animals in the whole goddamned animal kingdom, would be the most drama-filled, reality-TV-show bullshit of all time

And baby, with the Hadestown AU, I can do both

[raayllum]

it's funny because in our two examples of "what does a high mage do" we see Viren be involved in basically every decision that Harrow makes as an advisor, even ones that wouldn't necessarily warrant it immediately, versus Callum, who *checks canon* isn't substantially involved in any decision Ezran makes as king in any given season

[docmccoy]

I saw some MASH Pacific rim murmurings around and it may be time again for my yearly crack at my beast

[ask-theredman]

@ask-kurt-wagnerandrpwithhim

Azazel comes home to the sight of his barely 21 year old son hanging from the stairs by his tail, looking hung over and exhausted, and the remnants of what could only be assumed to have once been a party Kurt wasn't supposed to be throwing. The speakers are still going but have long since blown out and the flashing multicolored lights have died out, indicating the party had started a while ago and simply hadn't stopped until Azazel was due back from his trip. Unfortunately for Kurt it would seem he had not enhereted his father's intelligence, only his mutation

The sun was rising gracefully on the beach as the gentle waves lapped the shore. The whole scene was so calm and inviting on the side he was facing, that this path could only lead him to a great new morning...

Unfortunately, his house was in the opposite direction from this almost magical view... That meant his morning wasn't going to go so well.

The first thing that should have alerted him to the 'situation' was the fact that he could see holes in the walls of their house from more than 20 paces away.

A trail of passed out Blue Bamfs, surrounded by candy wrappers, led him to the epicentre of the chaos. His Red ones, who had been travelling with him, tried to shake some of them awake but to no avail : All they managed to get out of them were a few mutterings that could be translated as "No more taxi rides out of the party".

That made him frown.

'So much for a relaxing walk on the beach.'

As he crossed the unusual trail to the entrance of his house, a dozen or so footprints of varying sizes in the sand gave him a hint of what had happened, but what they could not do was prepare him for what lay behind the door...

His eyes found it hard to focus on just one thing.

The Red Bamfs who accompanied him inside found themselves in a similar situation : Those who weren't all wide-eyed and aghast at the sight before them scattered to assess the damage. A few Red Bamfs mechanically unplugged the speakers, their eyes never leaving the scene that welcomed them home.

Finally, Azazel's eyes focused on something or rather someone. Hanging upside down from the stairs by his tail like a damson plum, just as passed out as his little counterparts outside.

Azazel was impressed. In the worst possible way.

He kicked the soft mattress off the divan and landed it right under his son. This startled his Bamfs and brought them back to the present. He gestured for them to hold the half-discarded hammock on the floor a few feet above the mattress, which they managed by holding onto to some furniture.

Azazel then teleported up the stairs and with a quick flick of his hand like he had done this a thousand times before, unfastened Kurt's tail from the railing, causing him to fall all the way down onto the hammock and then the mattress.

[bachanaliaa]

legal counsel || jonno

closed starter for @poor-princejohn

Livung with a roommate that wasn't his sister meant that Angelo had learned a few things. One of those things was that if he wasn't up at normal time, John would leave a disaster in the kitchen. Man couldn't cook, which meant it looked like a tornado had hit.

That was on Angelo's list of things to change.

The other was that if John were running late he forgot things. Usually, he came back. Today, he didn't. Today, it was his flat keys and his wallet.

Angelo pocketed both once he was back from his run with Titan and showered, changed for his shift at Pixie's.

InterPride wasn't too far out of his way, so Ange hoofs it there, meandering his way to the front desk - where he turns on his mega watt grin and 'aw shucks' attitude - and asks for directions to the legal department.

Once he's off the lift, Angelo struts down the hall, gaze searching for a familiar, pretty little blond head.

[ outfit ]

[asoiafreadthru]

A Game of Thrones, Eddard IV

Ned was aghast. “Aerys Targaryen left a treasury flowing with gold. How could you let this happen?”

Littlefinger gave a shrug. “The master of coin finds the money. The king and the Hand spend it.”

“I will not believe that Jon Arryn allowed Robert to beggar the realm,” Ned said hotly.

Grand Maester Pycelle shook his great bald head, his chains clinking softly. “Lord Arryn was a prudent man, but I fear that His Grace does not always listen to wise counsel.”

“My royal brother loves tournaments and feasts,” Renly Baratheon said, “and he loathes what he calls ‘counting coppers.’”

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Seek the Lord's Counsel First

"'Inquire, I pray thee, at the word of the LORD today.'" — 1 Kings 22:5b | JPS Tanakh 1917 (JPST) The Holy Scriptures according to the Masoretic text; Jewish Publication Society 1917. Cross References: 1 Kings 22:4; 1 Kings 22:6

[magnifiico]

i have to touch on this before i forget—

the way mag runs Rosas could be considered "irregular" to other kingdoms simply because he does not have any sort of council or advisors, anyone who really... assists in his decision-making; in his mind, his "advisor" is Amaya, and he doesn't feel that he needs anyone else (flawed logic there on its own uvu/ shocking)

i mean, fine. at least the one person he will listen to is in a position to keep him under some sort of control and we all know mags will heed amaya's advice like an excited puppy with his tail wagging buuuut yeah in all their years, the royal couple literally just manage it all on their own (and by "royal couple" i mainly mean amaya since she's truly Too Powerful and deserves more credit than she gets while her husband is playing around with magic)

the castle of course has servants, as we see. mag has guards (mainly for show bc as if this guy can't defend himself), but that's about it. all of the decisions on how to organize the way rosas is run, how to handle laws, etc. etc. – all the king and queen 😎 power couple rise up

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

‘Can we call it a war?’ Grima idly asks. He’s draped comfortably in the chair more usually reserved for the king but, well, Theoden continues to be poorly therefore he cannot attend counsels as often as he had in previous years. ‘No one has declared it against us. Isn’t that a prerequisite?’ ‘I don’t think the naming or not naming of it matters when there are orcs harrying my people making it so they cannot tend their fields,' Erkenbrand replies. ‘Fair.’ Grima drums the table with fingers.

this is what happens when there is no supervision for your local snake. He takes over the king's chair and lounges in it.

[waterlilyvioletfog]

Fenglong: hi bestie ❤️! I’m going to go on a mission to get you some more minions!

Cang Xuan: uhhh can you like not do that. This second. Maybe hang out with my sister who you’re supposed to be courting?? Keep her company?? Don’t risk our exposure?? Idk just a thought

Fenglong: sure thing! ❤️

Fenglong: I’m back from my trip! Got you those minions!

Cang Xuan: 🙃🙃🙃 thatssss soooo great thank you. So much. Good job.

[neverendingford]

.

[jonostroveart]

Ding Don and Margezilla

[tenth-sentence]

There Turgon the King received them well, when he learned of their kin; for messages and dreams had come to him up Sirion from the sea, from Ulmo, Lord of Waters, warning him of woe to come and counselling him to deal kindly with the sons of the house of Hador, from whom help should come to him at need.

"The Silmarillion" - J.R.R. Tolkien