#governmentofficial

[stagborne]

Send “#” for a RANDOM text.

INBOX PROMPTS ╱ 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔.

TXT : You look like you could benefit greatly from an unplanned, impromptu moment of recklessness. TXT : You probably don't even know what fun means. So it seems like it is my duty to teach you. Meet me in the gardens. Make sure you’re not followed!

[multipleoccupancy]

@governmentofficial Old Money judges New Money

Everyone was welcomed at Gatsby's, it was a parade of all walks of life from the city and it acted perfectly for Gatsby's financial interests. A heart full of light and hope at the prospect of rocketing his way into the world of the richest, the influential and the powerful to finally be able to marry Daisy was not all that far away. His obscene wealth was only growing and it seemed he had the entire city in the very palm of his hand.

However it remained to be not enough for Gatsby, regardless of his aspirations there was only one unobtainable reality he was struggling to reach. Daisy still had not passed through the doors of his grand mansion and she as ever remained tantalisingly close yet inaccessible until he could make the right connections. Frustration had overwhelmed him again as he left the noise of the latest extravaganza in his home and ventured into the quieter upper floors for some peace.

A seemingly sinister shuffling from his library however caught his attention and a curious peer inside had him spot a younger man seemingly snooping through his desks. A curious scene for him of course, however Gatsby restrained himself, placed his hands behind his back and cheerfully walked further into the room to make himself known and he hoped scare off the snooping stranger. "Good evening, Old Sport," he greeted with a dazzling smile. "You are missing the festivities tucked away in here," he warned though did not expect to be known as the host of the party, it seemed he still wasn't that level of powerful where he was well known and recognised.

[senatus-romanus]

@governmentofficial

Commotion and ruckus came almost as a default to Romulus, it had all of his life, it was almost like he caused it but he was too proud to ever really look into that notion even over two and a half thousand years, what was the point? Everyone else was simply wrong.

He had always carried himself with an extreme confidence, the sort of domineering presence that tended to make other beings upset and unnerved in his company. It was of course very much on purpose, since he founded Rome, he'd needed such an attitude to achieve his goals. He had devoured much of the ancient world for his needs, absorbed it and his hands moulded the modern world whether anyone truly acknowledged it or not.

Everyone was beneath him, lesser beings scrambling around trying to replicate what he achieved or foolish enough to think themselves better. He'd come to the British Isles so very long ago and conquered the shores of wild Britannia from the Celts, strong armed them into submission and eventually taught them his ways and integrated (most of) them into his oppressive Empire.

Which is why he found it utterly ridiculous that when standing in the reception hall of some London club, he was arguing with what he assumed was some sort of security guard about being allowed in to see the Roman ruins likely revealed if only in part in the basement. He was not taking no for an answer and Romulus was not too long away from starting to throw fists with the poor unsuspecting man.

"How is it so hard for you to grasp this very simple concept?" He argued coldly, his voice low and commanding and though he spoke perfect English the Italian accent was unmistakable but it was different from modern Italian though could be mistaken for a regional accent rather than his true ancient Roman and Latin origin. "Your building is lying on top of what was Roman Britain, it's under your feet. I do not care about disturbing your members, I only wish to see if there are any remnants left under these floors."

[hacker-codeq]

@governmentofficial from here

Q really did enjoy Mycroft's notes, it might even be the only thing he would happily indulge in outside of work, though the content was concerning. He knew staffing ran background check for the security clearance to work in the office but he purposefully didn't look into his staff, more for moral reasons than anything legal. He packed a tablet from the office with the files downloaded - no one should be printing data from the office and taking it outside the secure units.

Plus, if he happened to get mugged, the tablet would fry itself before it allowed anyone else to access it.

Leaving work while the day guards were still on felt incredibly uncomfortable, even if Q knew Mycroft would only pull this kind of stunt with good reason.

Soon enough, he was sat opposite the older man in the Diogenes Club, glaring at him as he set his bag between his feet. Bold of you to assume I don't already know BSL, perhaps you should update your intel. He signed at him just to prove the point.

He made no move to get the tablet out, not without an explanation.

[hvbris]

🎁(for one of your HG characters)

𝐌𝐘𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐓 & 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 @governmentofficial

Babel - Mumford and Sons

"I'll go along with everything you say if it makes me win," muttered Clove from behind the bars of the zoo cage the tributes were kept in. She had approached Mycroft rather naturally -it was in his best interest that she won too, from what she understood. He was not his friend, and she was not his. But for now, at least, they were allies.

"Have you brought food? They haven't fed us once." She could have been more polite about it, but hunger made people twitchy and angry -and Clove was already quite angry even when she wasn't hungry. Besides, Mycroft was a Capitol boy. He was rich, right? He could afford to feed her. "Your cousin came here yesterday, and fed his little songbird."

[chumbby]

Chumberlina, the Hum wizard, the father, the Mayoral Overlord of Tummy Town, town of Tummies, sits bewildered. Where did all this beige carpet come from?

It was supposed to be wine colored.

An office assistant informs Chumbby wine is also white, and interior decor translated it beige. Chumbby is mortified.

Tune in, next week, to find out what Chumbby does about this interior design blunder.

[bertievi]

@governmentofficial

A phone reserved specifically for a very important building and it's attached institution went off in Mycroft's office. It rarely rang, the last time being when the most unfortunate accident had lead to their new King ascending to the throne as a boy. Years had passed since then and the King was now in his early twenties. The shrill bell was hard to ignore given it had been a number of years since it last went off.

"Sir, His Majesty's private secretary wishes to inform you that His Majesty is not in his scheduled location and has been spotted by a retired official boarding the 2:56pm Victoria Line train, Southbound to Vauxhall. Suitably equipped personnel have been dispatched but assistance my be needed to keep the situation under the radar if you are available."

That was less of a request and while the woman on the phone was not the private secretary she didn't think she needed to inform Lord Holmes that Tommy was indeed asking for his immediate help in locating the rouge monarch who was now loose on the London underground.

[amanandgoodatit]

@governmentofficial || Continued

"He wishes." Greg snorted a out half-laugh at the idea of Sherlock chasing him from his own crime scene. Even if there were times he'd wanted to leave the consultant to his own devices he'd not quite given in to the urge yet, though there was the occasion here he stepped away for a few moments.

Like now, for instance; he'd seen Mycroft lurking at the edges of the crime scene and decided with Sherlock in view there was nothing too dramatic that could happen. Hopefully. With that thought in mind he turned to stand beside Mycroft, hands finding their way into his pockets as he gazed over at the younger Holmes.

"Aye, you can be a bit of an arse sometimes," Greg said it rather matter-of-factly, having dealt with Mycroft in all kinds of moods, "But honestly? You're not the rudest person I know. I've said it before and I'll say it again; I actually like your company, even if you don't want to believe it." The rain was steadily seeping into his clothes but he didn't stand under the others umbrella, knowing full well how Mycroft enjoyed his personal space. What was a little rain, anyways? No use fretting when he was already wet. That wasn't to say that he didn't desperately want to get home and have a scalding shower.

There was a short pause before he nodded his head in the direction of Sherlock, who was apparently trying to merge with the soaked concrete to see god only knows what clue he'd noticed, or deduced.

"He's doing alright, you know." Greg of course had been looking out for the younger Holmes, as he usually did. "Give him quater of an hour and he'll probably have this one solved."