#Royal Scotsman

[guy60660]

Royal Scotsman

[noconcessions]

[inartchive]

[jesstasticvoyage]

sukiwaterhouse Traveling through scotland with diorbeauty and the spirits of the highlands in my heart. Thank you Belmond @Belmondroyalscotsman

📸 Pierre Mouton

[leosgreyfringe]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Arsenal’s principal founding member and first club captain, David Danskin, born January 9, 1863.

Following the end of the cricket season in 1886, Danskin, along with Elijah Watkins, organized a squad of interested players and raised five shillings and six pence (the five shillings donated by himself) to purchase a ball for practice.

Danskin played for the club for three seasons before injury forced him to retire early, but remained involved with the club and the sport as a whole for the rest of his life. He lived to see Arsenal win their first FA cup in 1930, listening to radio commentary from his sickbed.

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 2-Exiles

Day 2-First Light

Other Stories

Other Days

Scotsman pulled into the Union Pacific yard tiredly. While his tour of America was exciting, he was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Runs on the American railroads were often far longer than those on the railways in Britain. The discovery that so many of his kind had in fact escaped to America was wonderful, but it had taken a toll on him as strong as any express run.

He was uncoupled from his coaches, softly wishing them a good night as he rolled forward. He ached from his frames to his firebox, he hadn’t felt right since his last overhaul under the other railway. He did his best to hide it from the other engines, they didn't need to know how tired he really was, they needed confidence that everything would work out. He could take worse than this if it meant any comfort for the other engines. Peglar had promised him a proper overhaul once he returned to Britain, but right now he could feel every one of the miles between him and home.

He was so tired he almost didn't notice the engine in front of him. A line of engines sat side by side, facing away from him…engines of British loading gauge and buffers on them. He rolled forward, telling himself he hoped to surprise them with his arrival even though they were probably waiting on him, but in truth he was just too tired. Besides, at least one had a corridor tender and he loved sneaking up on…

That was a corridor tender. 

He froze, barely hearing his driver asking what was wrong, his ears ringing as he stared at the tender.

That was a LNER corridor tender.

He looked further along, his eyes sweeping along, hoping and fearing in equal measure as he laid eyes upon the engines’ running boards.

Scotsman’s wheels shrieked as they spun, his driver yelping as the Pacific surged forward.

The handful of engines jumped at the screech of Scotsman’s spinning wheels, but he couldn't have cared less as he pulled alongside and found a line of startled LNER Pacifics staring back at him…Gresley pacifics.

Royal Lancer smiled sheepishly, “surprise?”

Scotsman couldn't keep his gaze from whipping back and forth to the engines on either side of him.

Royal Lancer, Gay Crusader, Call Girl, Spearmint…

“You're all alive?” Scotsman could hardly bring himself to hope this wasn’t all a dream.

“There's a few of us that couldn’t make it,” Call Girl said gently, Scotsman noting she finally had got to replace the Call Boy nameplates. 

Spearmint nodded, “I know Flamingos undergoing overhaul down in Florida.”

 Tears began tracking down Scotsman’s cheeks, “there's more of us?”

“We keep finding more of us.” Lancer said, “we’ve heard Sandwich ended up in Australia. Then we heard Great Northern escaped to Sodor.”

Scotsman let out a wet laugh, “She did. Gordon cracked the frames of a diesel who tried to grab her.”The other A3’s cheered for their eldest sibling, and Scotsman couldn’t help but burst into  laughter at the sound even as his fears fell freely. They were alive, so many were alive.

[dragons-and-magic]

I LOVE HER!🤩🤩🤩

FINALLY finished my first engine OC (after a whole YEAR)

[sempiternal-meridians]

Train Journey Royal Scotsman

[scotianostra]

January 29th 1848 saw the first adoption of GMT by Scotland. The subject has been the source of controversy ever since.

The change had broadly taken place south of the Border from September the previous year with those in Edinburgh living 12 and-a-half minutes behind the new standard time as a result.

Some people in those days were still using sundials to tell the time, Scottish inventor Alexander Bain had only given the world the first electric clock 7 years previously. Sundials were criticised for being poorly made and set by "incompetents" among those who supported the move to GMT in the 1840s.

The discrepancy grew the further west you moved, with the time in Glasgow some 17 minutes behind GMT. In Ayr the time difference was 18-and-a-half minutes with it rising to 19 minutes in the harbour town of Greenock.

All these lapses were ironed out over night on January 29 1848, but the move wasn’t without controversy as some resisted the move away from local time.

Sometimes referred to as natural time, it had long been determined by sun dials and observatories and later by charts and tables which outlined the differences between GMT and local time at various locations across the country.

But the need for a standard time measurement was broadly agreed upon given the surge in the number of rail services and passengers with different local times causing confusion, missed trains and even accidents as trains battled for clearance on single tracks.

An editorial in The Scotsman on Saturday, January 28, 1848, said: “It is a mistake to think that in the country generally the change will be felt as a grievance in any degree.

“Probably nine-tenths of those who have clocks and watches believe that their local time is the same with Greenwich time, and will be greatly surprise to learn that the two are not identical.

“Even if they wished to keep local time, they want the means.

“Observatories are only found in two or three of our Scottish towns.

“As for the sundials in use, their number is small, most of them, too, are made by incompetent persons and even when correctly constructed, the task of putting them up and adjusting them to the meridian is generally left to an ignorant mason, who perhaps takes the mid-day hour from the watch in his fob.”

The editorial added: “For the sake of convenience, we sacrifice a few minutes and keep this artificial time in preference to sundial time, which some call natural time, and if the same convenience counsels us to sacrifice a few minutes in order to keep one uniform time over the whole country, why should it not be done!”

Mariners had long observed Greenwich Mean Time and kept at least one chronometer set to calculate their longitude from the Greenwich meridian, which was considered to have a longitude of zero degrees.

The move to enforce it as the common time measurement was made by the Railway Clearing House in September 1847.

Some rail companies had printed GMT timetables much sooner. The Great Western Railway deployed the standard time in 1840 given that passengers on its service between London to Bristol, then the biggest trading port with the United States, faced a time difference of 22 minutes between its departure and arrival point.

Rory McEvoy, curator of horology at the Royal Observatory Greenwich, said travel watches of the day had two sets of hands, one gold and one blue steel, to help measure changes in local time during a journey.

Maps also depicted towns with had adopted GMT and those which had not, he added.

There was information out there for determine the local time difference so they would know the offset to apply to GMT before the telegraphic distribution of time.

Mr McEvoy said different towns and cities in Scotland would have had their own time differences before adoption of GMT.

Old local time measurements show that Edinburgh was four-and-a-half minutes ahead of that in Glasgow, for example.

Mr McEvoy added: “I think it is fair to say there was no real concept of these differences at the time. It was when communication began to expand quite rapidly that it became f an issue. I think generally, you would be quite happy that the time of day was your local time.”

Pics are the station clock at Glasgow Central in the early 1880s and the sundial at Stonehaven Harbour, Aberdeenshire.

[guy60660]

Royal Scotsman

[noconcessions]

[psychotrenny]

Was reading a paper about the socio-political significance of decapitation in the Kingdom of Dahomey when I got a reminder of just how comically obsessed with phrenology 19th century Europeans were. Basically, John Duncan was a Scotsman and former soldier who traveled through West Africa several times in the 1840s, meeting King Gezo of Dahomey himself in 1845. Now the Dahomeans were known for their custom of taking skulls from defeated enemies and keeping them in the royal palace, so during this visit

Duncan asked King Gezo to show him 'a few skulls of natives of the different countries he had conquered' to assist his phrenological researches.

Just straight out like "Cool skulls bro mind if I measure them for racism reasons?". Actually beyond parody

[biggsodorcitystories]

Sooo...got paid yesterday, and today this happened:

The second is for my train-enthusiast stepfather.

I've never wanted to actually BUY a coin from the Royal Mint - though I gave collected a few 50p coins found in my change over the years - until this point!

[joezworld]

Christmas Story

The letters continued... 

Threats were issued:

“He’s dead if I ever see him.”

“-and if he ever shows his face around my shed, he’s a dead engine.”

“HIS COMPONENT PARTS WILL REGRET BEING ATTACHED TO HIM.”

“I’ll show him exactly what kind of a terror us diesels can be.”

“Personally, I’d have introduced his teeth to his superheater…”

-

And welcomes were given.

“I suppose this makes you one of ours now.”

“It’s nice to increase the ranks for once.”

“Can we keep you and trade Mallard to the Western?”

“I, for one, welcome you with smooth rails and green signals.”

“-and don’t worry! You’ll fit in just fine!”

-

Forgiveness was given, despite not being asked for. 

“We have heard about your recent change in “livery” and we understand.”

“Considering what’s happened I don’t blame you for tossing us into the bin.”

“-I’ve heard talk that some engines are quite taken with what you’ve done. Might be a trend!”

“Usually, old allegiances die hard. In your case, I’m surprised it lasted as long as it did.”

“Perhaps some day we can dispense with the old rivalries altogether…”

“YOU DESERVE BETTER THAN US.”

-

And declarations were made.

“ - you will always be one of us, and we love you.”

“I can’t wait to see you at the next gala!”

“YOU’LL LOOK GOOD IN BLUE, I GUARANTEE IT.”

“Keep us in your memories, but go wherever your heart takes you.”

“Don’t let engines like him keep you in a bad place, okay?”

-

Then there were the signatures. 

Your Brother

Your Sister

Your Friend

Your Compatriot

YOUR FELLOW WESTERNER

Your Eastern Acquaintance,

Caerphilly Castle

Evening Star

Deltic

Flying Scotsman

King George V

PENDENNIS CASTLE

№1306 Mayflower

D7017

D7018

D7026

D7076

Western Prince

Black Prince (92203)

Mallard [Who is writing this under duress]

Aerolite

26000 (Tommy)

№ 1420

D9500 & D9531

Lode Star

Green Arrow

№ 4498 Sir Nigel Gresley

The Engines of the Vale of Rheidol Railway

D821, D818, and D832

Blue Peter

55 022 (Royal Scots Grey)

Tuylar

Dominion of Canada

Dwight D. Eisenhower

Bittern

92212

Western Ranger

55 016

№4588

Alycidon (D9009)

№ 65462

Western Champion

Bradley Manor

7819 Hinton Manor

D9002

Royal Highland Fusilier (D9019)

№ 6412

Clun Castle

6990 Witherslack Hall

Sir Hadyn and Edward Thomas

№ 18000 (Kerosene Castle)

4488 (Union of South Africa)

Morayshire

Olton Hall

Hagley Hall

55 021

King Edward I

King Edward II

Western Courier

Western Lady

D9534

№ 7293

Western Campaigner

----------------------

Then they opened the boxes. 

The small ones were addressed to Duck and Oliver. The first few were opened up, revealing, “Name plates? Why name plates?” 

“Well, hang on a minute, these don’t look like any name plates I’ve seen before.” 

“Ah, wait, that’s it. They’re usually curved, to go over the splashers.”

“And they’re not red.”

“Well, they are if… ooooh.”

“What?”

“They’re Eastern. With the red backing. These’re LNER plates.”

Oliver stared at Duck, ignoring how the men were opening up a separate box with a similar return address.

“It’s a builder’s plate?!”

“It’s an LNER builder’s plate, see the shape?”

“Forget the shape, it says London and North Eastern on it.”

“Oh gosh, this is serious, innit?”

“That’s borderline sacreligious is what it is. Lookit that! It says Swindon on it!”

“Gordon is going to be insufferable about this, I just don’t know how.”

-

There was an identical plate for Duck, and… glory be, it really was an LNER-styled builder’s plate, made out with his information. They even found out his original works number.

He breathed in deeply. In through the nose, out through the mouth. He mattered to them, in a way that felt just as, if not more personal than the pile of letters on the floor. Maybe it was the shock, the lingering feelings from hearing Truro’s unhinged rant in the cold December air. 

“I think,” he looked between the plate, and Oliver. “That we’re at a moment in our lives that we can’t go back from.”

-----------

The boxes addressed to Bear were much larger, and were in greater quantities. 

“Oh look, this one’s a headboard!” exclaimed his driver. 

Bear’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he saw that it said THE FLYING SCOTSMAN on it. 

The note attached was short, but sweet. “‘Tis nice to have another Eastern Diesel. Mayhaps someday this shall be used again in anger.” It was signed “Royal Scots Grey”. 

-

The next one had the GWR crest burned into the surface of the crate. Opening it revealed a rather lengthy nameplate wrapped in cloth. A note was tied around it. 

“Dearest Bear,” it read. “He’s done, even if he doesn’t know it yet. This raises an issue - we do need a “City” in our ranks. We think you can take up that role.”

The wrapping was undone, and Bear could feel a shocked tear build up in his eye. 

The words CITY OF TIDMOUTH glinted in the lights of the shed, the letters done in shining brass, just like the steam engines of old. 

-

Another package, this one from an address that he vaguely remembered as being an old Eastern Region TMD, contained a host of plates both large and small. The largest of them was a bright red rectangle, with silver letters that read BEAR. After looking it over, his crew deemed it to be a dead ringer for the name boards on Eastern Region diesels. 

“Which means…” said his driver, rifling through the smaller plates, each the size of a medallion. “That these must be from all the different Depots. Yeah, yeah, look. This one’s Stratford, and here’s York. Blimey, I didn’t know that anyone had a Colchester one.”

This went on for several minutes, as plates from seemingly every Eastern Region TMD were removed from the box. Bear’s eyebrows rose until they could go no higher. 

-

The next morning, his crew busied themselves with attaching several of the plates to his sides. There was some argument as to where they should be placed, and how to avoid making Bear look like “he was covered in fridge magnets.” 

Said argument was still ongoing as Gordon rolled by. His suddenly-wide eyes went from the Eastern Region name plate to THE FLYING SCOTSMAN headboard in shock. 

Bear ignored his crew, who were intently measuring the “CITY OF TIDMOUTH” nameplate like it may suddenly change size, and fixed Gordon with an intent look. “This is unequivocally your fault,” he said, keeping his tone serious even as he started to smile. “Thank you.” 

----------

A few days later, as the mail started to peter off, a deeply overstuffed document mailer ended up at the shed in Arlesburgh, addressed to Oliver and Duck collectively. 

It was a long and dry letter, filled with passages about duty and honor, dictated by King George V, the “self-proclaimed pro tempore leader of our kind, now that Truro is out.” 

Naturally, Duck found it fascinating, while Oliver would rather gnaw off his own buffers. It grew so dull that eventually the stationmaster got bored of reading Duck’s copy of the pair of identical letters aloud, and fetched a sheet music stand from the station, placing the type-written pages across it for the two engines to read at their own pace before leaving for the station. 

Oliver’s pace was “no, thank you, but I’d really rather skip to the end,” but Duck was insistent on reading the entire letter aloud. 

“-I humbly ask you as a fellow Westerner, free of all but our Swindon metal, do you have any interest…” Duck abruptly trailed off. 

“Hm?” Oliver said, blinking himself to attention. “Interest in what? Don’t tell me you’ve gotten bored now?”

Duck ignored him. “They can’t really-”

“Really what? Out with it!”

“Look!” Duck yelped. “It’s right there, on the fifth page, towards the bottom.”

Oliver rolled his eyes, but eventually found the sentence. “-any interest in becoming the new figurehead of the Great Western? What?” He squeaked in surprise, eyes skimming the preceding paragraphs to see what in the world they were on about.

“-perhaps the most unfortunate part of Truro’s fall from grace is that he is - or perhaps was - the most recognizable member of our lineage by a wide margin. While it remains true that the enthusiast may recognize myself or Caerphilly, the general public likely knows Truro for the same reason that they know Flying Scotsman. The name Great Western, and what it stands for, is vestigial at best. 

That being said, a new opportunity has presented itself. As I am sure you are aware, the books by the Reverend Awdry featuring you and Oliver have spawned a television show, which has in turn re-ignited popularity in the books. Already I have had to field queries about your Island from children clutching copies of “Duck and the Diesel Engine.” Many who have no other knowledge of our ways have nonetheless made the connection that we Westerners all know each other, and have asked me about you and Oliver. Strangely, none have asked about Truro; in fact, one child, who I have been assured does not yet know how to read, mistook me for Truro, and asked me what visiting Sodor was like. (I did not dissuade him of this view. I hope that I was correct in my assumption that Sodor is very pleasant in the summer.)

I’m sure that you can see the common thread here. You and Oliver will have an uncommon familiarity with the next generation, and possibly many more beyond. While I, Caerphilly, and the rest sit quietly behind ropes, you will continue as a working engine, adding to our common lore, and preaching our gospel. You are the highest ranking Paddie Shunter to survive the purges of Modernization, and you know more of Our Ways than even I do. 

With this in mind - and please do not take this as an obligation, a chore, a weight against your buffers - I humbly ask you as a fellow Westerner, free of all but our Swindon metal, do you have any interest in becoming the new figurehead of the Great Western Railway?”

--

Neither engine got any sleep that night, and it was a very bleary Duck that took the first train into Tidmouth the next day. 

“You look terrible,” Gordon sniffed unthinkingly. “Do you not sleep at night? Too much rearranging of your goods yard, perhaps?”

“Gordon, please-”

On the road opposite Duck, Bear raised an eyebrow. “It’s too early in the morning for either of you to start.”

“Oh fine,” Gordon huffed as the last of the passengers flooded into the express. “But it’s rather undignified for an Easterner to be so disheveled. Just look at us for an example, Duck!” 

Point made, he set off with a whoosh of steam, and within a minute the train’s rear lamp was fading into the distance. 

Bear didn’t say anything for a long while. Duck wondered if the diesel wasn’t saying anything because Gordon was right - compared to Bear’s mirror-shine paint and Gordon’s polished brass, he looked awful.

Or, the vicious little voice in the back of his mind piped up. He still doesn’t want to talk to you. Considering how you sided with Truro over-

“So, I got a letter yesterday.” Bear said, apropos of nothing. “From King George V herself.”

“Oh?” Duck seized the chance to get out of his own mind. “What about?”

“Seems like the Great Western needs a new figurehead, considering that somebody has lost all his prestige.”

“O-oh…” Duck warbled. “You got that too?”

“Mmhmm.” Bear wasn’t looking at anything in particular. “Apparently the television show is driving people to the books; people seem to like conflict in their children’s books. Something about being able to show right from wrong.” 

“Do they now?” Oh, if only the rails could swallow him whole at this moment. 

“Oh yes.” Bear looked contemplative. “It also helps that nobody really likes diesels. Smelly, underhanded things. It’s quite nice to be able to have one cause trouble and then get sent away for doing that in one single book.”

“Yes, I-I’m quite aware of what happened…” Maybe his boiler could explode. That might fix things. 

“And everybody loves a runaway train.” 

“Well, I -uh, I wouldn’t- um…” 

Bear smirked. “Obviously I don’t include you in that.” 

“W-w-well of course, I-”

Bear didn’t say anything for a second, and Duck continued to trip over his own tongue, until: 

“She’s right, you know.”

“Wh-what?” 

“King George. She’s right about you. Every child in the country is going to know your name someday, especially if they put you on the telly. And there’s not another engine alive who knows all of the history that you do.”

“Bear,” Duck finally managed to find his voice. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” Duck was floored. “Bear, you were there! I just followed along behind him, doing whatever he said to-”

“Duck,” Bear cut him off and looked him straight in the eyes. “He was City of Truro. Who would have expected that out of any engine, let alone one of his stature?” 

“But - but - but I-” 

“Acted childish, perhaps,” Bear continued, gently. “But he revealed himself to you at the same time he did everyone. Even I didn’t think he’d hurt me on purpose!”  

“But I should have noticed!” Duck cried. “And I didn’t! What sort of leader would I be?”

Bear was unmoved. “It’s true that you didn’t notice then, but look at what you’re doing right now.” 

“What?” 

Bear smiled gently, his new nameplates gleaming in the station lights. “You’re giving yourself the third degree over this. It’s been six months, Duck! Even I’ve moved on from that, or I would, if you’d let me. Truro’s got his just desserts, I’ve found that more engines care about me than I previously thought possible, and Oliver… is Oliver-ing along like nothing ever happened. It’s just you who hasn’t moved on from this yet, and that is the true mark of a leader.”

“No, Bear,” Duck started to stammer. “But-I can’t. Surely-”

“The only sure thing is that you’d do a good job.” Bear said as the last of his passengers boarded. “Besides, if you do badly enough…” The guard blew the whistle, and waved the green flag. “You’ll look really good in garter blue!” 

And then he was off, engine roaring. The train sparkled against the early summer sun as it left, and Duck was suddenly alone at the platform. 

“He does make a good point,” Well, he was almost alone. He was still coupled to Alice and Mirabel. “What do you want to do?”

Duck didn’t say anything for a long while. 

He had a lot to think about.

[medievalandfantasymelee]

THE HOT MEDIEVAL & FANTASY MEN MELEE

FIRST ROUND: 49th Tilt

James Douglas, Outlaw King (2018) VS. Philip II, The Lion in Winter (1968)

Propaganda

James Douglas, Outlaw King (2018) Portrayed by: Aaron Taylor-Johnson Defeated Opponents: - King Richard IV [Brian Blessed], The Black Adder (1982)

*Cracks knuckles* *Rolls shoulders* *SCREAMS LIKE A MANIAC* just getting into the spirit of the character. "Mair fell than wes ony devill in hell." That is how poet John Barbour described James, “The Blak Dowglas” as he came to be known to the English. And Aaron Taylor-Johnson matched that energy 200% in this movie. This man is BAT CRAP LOONY TUNES. He’s feral. Berserkers wish they were as berserk as this crazy Scotsman. I personally find using a mail coif as a weapon to be very sexy. He’ll try to seduce your daughter and when you threaten to cut his balls of, he’ll kiss you full on the mouth and then go and flirt with your OTHER daughter. He just wants his family’s lands back, and by God he will get them, and he will be screaming DOUGLAS!!!!!!! all the way home. (Cont. below the cut)

Philip II, The Lion in Winter (1968) Portrayed by: Timothy Dalton Defeated Opponents: - “Man with Snake” [Barry John Clarke], Edward II (1991)

“I will forever and always have a crush on Timothy Dalton on this movie. Philip is definitely a side character in it, for sure, but it's still a great performance (especially considering it was Dalton's film debut!) and he's also so cute.”

Additional Propaganda Under the Cut

Additional Propaganda

For James Douglas:

"I submit also these choice quotes from this Pajiba article, because Roxana Hadidi put it better than I can. [“In Appreciation of Aaron Taylor Johnson Going Full Beastmode in Outlaw King”]:

… it’s Taylor-Johnson’s feral qualities that add verve to these action scenes; he’s the character the film relies on to clue us into the English’s cruelty. While the rest of the Scottish camp is eating and socializing, he’s practicing sword moves in the woods, preparing himself for whatever threat is coming their way. While Pine has to be the believable kingly figure, Taylor-Johnson is over here attacking dudes with their own chainmail and slitting throats in church on Palm Sunday (it’s so bloody and over the top and great). He takes back his family castle, throws the invading English soldiers down a well, and then invites the castle staff to eat the feast they had been forced to prepare for the invaders—and then he encourages them all to join him in supporting Robert the Bruce before burning his own castle down so the English can’t come back and claim it. […] [He] is the live wire the movie needs, not only to demonstrate how [Robert] sets himself apart while performing his royal role but also because the action scenes are so essential to telling this story effectively, to demonstrating the brutality and the bloodiness of this time.’

For King Philip II:

“I confess that I haven't actually watched The Lion in Winter, but I don't have to recognize that young Timmy Dalton is a total babe in it. Those eyes! That jawline! Real royals *wish* they were this hot.”

[writingoddess1125]

Blip on the Radar pt. 1

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader + OOC Erik

Part 2 ->

Would appreciate a donation to my Ko-Fi so I can survive in this economy! Enjoy!

"Alright big guy bed time" You say as you swoop down and pick up your toddler, feeling him already tired from the day.

"No No Mama" Erik chimed. His mess of blonde hair covering his sleepy blue eyes which was trying to resist sleep

"Yes Yes Bean" You say with a giggle carrying him to his room and lay him down giving him his favorite stuffed bear you watch as he falls asleep in seconds.

Smiling as you watch his sleeping face and gently caress his cheek- despite the times that had passed you couldn't help but be amused by how much Erik didn't look like you, if it hadn't been for the 30hrs of labor you went through and seeing that headful of blonde hair when he was first born you would have been sure the hospital had switched your child.

He was a stocky and tall toddler, for being 2 years old he could easily be mistaken as a 3 year old- especially since he had big hands. He reminded you up a pitbull puppy, were you could see he was going to be a big boy.

Most likely like his father, which you assumed he was a carbon copy of.

It had been a bar hookup 3 years ago on a trip abroad, nothing special or unique in truth- You didn't even remember the guys name, you just remever his bright blue eyes, some blonde hair and a deep English accent. However that was about it- Besides you had your face in the pillows too much to know anyway, the next morning he had already been gone and you were content with that.

However seemed the universe decided to just screw you over as a few months later you found out you were pregnant. Not an ideal way to become a mother However you were one non the less.

Walking out of the room silently you began to pick up around the house, all Erik's toys and snacks he had dropped throughout the day but that was short lived as the couch called to you. Finally taking a seat you turn on some late night YV and sigh heavily- that exhaustion going through you as you laid there trying to will yourself to do more.

Going through your phone you see that you got a notification from Ancestory, raising a brow as you opened it and saw the results for your son upload.

"Oh yeah.. forgot about that"

A few weeks previously you'd done a DNA test on your son, mainly for medical history and to gather some basic information. As it populated you were met with pages of blacked our marker, Literally almost nothing was visible and you could see the British royal forces logo in the corner of most things but everything was crossed out.

"Why is so much of this crossed out?.." You muttered, squinting at the print on your phone over why so much information was limited from your sons father's side- You couldn't see much accept for last names and some general years.

"Weird.. Like a ghost... did I fuck a spy?-" You mutter, shrugging at this and close of your phone. Fairly sure you'd spooked yourself or that the Ancestory was wrong in some way. Waste of 90$-

0500 hr Other side of globe

It was far too early for this- Ms. Elis marched down the corridors of the Barracks with a file in her hand- her face no better then a thunderstorm as she marched.

Ghost could hear her from down the barracks hall from how loudly she was stomping around- he understood she was the TF 141 lawyer but she was a royal pain in the ass as well- he was seated on a couch of this temporary barracks common room and reading, dressed in more casual military attire and a plain balaclava covering his face.

"Price!" She called out once seeing him I'm his office and slamming the door behind her, Ghost looking up to see that banshee of a lawyer looking ready to snap again- sighing heavily as he tried to go back to reading.

"What do you think it's this time?" Soap said as he plopped himself next to the reading man with a relaxed sigh- Simon rolling his eyes at the Scotsman.

"Nothing that I'm willing to think about-" He grumbled, but his ear was picking up her yelling at Price dramtically- Once again. Banshee. That and one that had a flare for the dramatics.

After 10 minutes of this, The banshee of a lawyer stepped out of the office and turned to look right at Ghost-

"Mr. Riley, can you step into the office with us" She asked, a fake sweetness to her voice but he could hear the strain of frustration.

Fucking Hell...

Soap gave a crooked smile at the Lieutenant like a child pleased to see his peer being called in by the principal. Ghost silently stepped in and nodded at his Captian who gestured for him to take a seat.

Taking a seat he could see Price was on the brink of either snapping at the lawyer or getting a glass of scotch to dull whatever was happening.

"Sir" Ghost greeted Price but was giving a awkward nod- Clearly this not being something good.

"Well I never thought this would be a conversation I'd have but- Were you intimate with anyone in (insert location) around 3 years ago?" Price ask as calmly as possible- Clearly the lawyer keeping him from speaking in honest remark. Ghost felt a chill up his spin and his eyes narrowed.

"...What is this about Captian-" He asked sharply, Price grabbing two cigars and handing one to Ghost and keeping one himself.

"Well to be honest.. in short it looks like you have a kid Simon.. a little boy to be exact" Price said truthfully as the lawyer held the file out for Ghost. His eyes widened at hearing this, Looking slowly up at the lawyer as she handed him the file- Setting down the cigar quickly he opened it and saw the photos pulled from your Instagram as well as the ancestory website pages that did connect the toddler to him.

"It seems she was trying to get medical information through ancestory and we saw that your guys DNA connects. With the timing of the last time you were in that city it matches with the child's age" Ms. Elis said calmly as Ghost continued to look through the photos and information about you and his child.

"Simon?" Price said as he saw the man seemingly in a daze, staring at the folder. However Price could tell his mind was in a different place-

The lawyer was trying to go through options that Simon could take, paying child support, visitation, renouncing parental rights- However he was too dazed to even process any of this. Instead just sitting there thinking that he had a kid out there with this random stranger, were they a good mom? Did they love the kid? What if they were in a abusive home like he had been? Oh he couldn't let that happened.. it was be a nice snowy day in hell before he did. But also fear that his background would come to haunt him- How if he was in the kids life he could risk being a bad influence to the child as well.

Standing up suddently Simon held the folder looking to Price then the Laywer.

"What city are they located at Sir?-"