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bejeweledblondie · 1 year

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Knight In Shining Armor

Captain John Price x F! Royalty Reader

Summary: Y/N is part of the British Royal Family & is kidnapped by terrorists. John Price & Task Force 141 are given the responsibility of rescuing her before the ransom deadline

Warnings: mentions of torture, abuse, kidnapping, anxiety

Captain John Price was ready to kick his feet up & relax for the rest of the weekend. He had already cracked open a beer. With one click of the tv remote he knew his weekend would be anything other than relaxing.

“This just in her royal highness the Duchess of Windsor Y/N L/N has just been ambushed & is considered missing. The young Duchess was leaving a gala when armed men ambushed her vehicle & were able to successfully kidnap her. Her whereabouts are unknown at the moment & London is currently on lockdown near Buckingham Palace.” The news anchor on the television reported. A groan escaped his lips knowing this mission would come across his desk.

“Fuckin hell, “ He cursed to himself & looked up at the ceiling. “Lord I wanted one weekend, one fucking weekend is that too much to ask for?”

Right on cue his phone started to vibrate. Laswell in big letters flashed across his screen.

“Don’t even elaborate where do we need to be?” He asked rubbing his temples.

“Well hello to you too, meet me at headquarters as soon as possible.” She stated. He stood up & stretched before sending a message out to the rest of his team. He walked into his bedroom & pulled out his combat pants, combat thermal, & two pairs of socks. Price got dressed & laced up boots. The thought of the Duchess started to creep into his mind. He couldn’t even imagine what she was experiencing. The absolute fear of being at the mercy of international terrorists has to have terrifying.

Price made his way to his car & started it. He started to drive to the post & when he got to the gate he scanned his ID. The soldier saluted him & the gate arm lifted. He pulled up of the offices & started to walk into the building. Ghost, Gaz, Soap, & Alejandro were already sitting in the briefing room waiting for him. Laswell was already at the front of the room with the screen behind her turned on.

“Ah Captain Price! Good to see you! Sit down so we can start.” Laswell said. “Colonel Vargas & his team will be conducting this operation with us due to the severity of the situation.” Price sat down, & Laswell started her briefing. “So while we don’t know how the Duchess was able to be taken, we were able to pin her location. Seems like our terrorists didn’t do a good job at giving their location. They released a video with a list of their demands, & hefty ransom. It is disturbing I’ll admit. They’ve beaten this poor woman to hell & back already.” Laswell pressed a key on the laptop in front of her & the video started.

There sat the Duchess tied to a chair with smudged mascara & a black eye. She was trying her hardest to stay awake. The once beautiful pink gown she had on was covered in blood & dirt. Pure anger ran through Price’s veins seeing her in that state. Each of the terrorists had black balaclavas on & stood on either side of her.

“To the Royal Family & the United Kingdom, we are taking revenge. One by one each Royal family of each Western nation will start going missing if you do not fulfill our wishes. If you wan to see her again, let alone alive you will fulfill our wishes. The cost of her safe return is 500 million dollars. You have until midnight.” One of the Balaclava clad men demanded. He gripped her chin roughly & she protested at his grip. “You little cunt. You will respect me.” He lifted the hand that held a Glock in it & used the back of the gun to slap her across the face. A loud cracking noise happening & the video paused.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap said. “Who are we dealing with?”

“The usual suspects.” Laswell replied. “We pinned their location & we have to act accordingly because it’s very clear their intentions will result in more violence. They’ve taken her to a warehouse in Romania, & we have their governments full permission to go in. So let’s get going, we lift off at 20:00.” She closed the laptop & everyone got up from their respective seats. Everyone started to funnel out of the conference room & started down to the air strip.

There was a heaviness in the air, they knew the weight on their shoulders. Not just the weight of the United Kingdom was on their shoulders but the entire western world. Alejandro’s team already had their gear laid out ready for inspection & he walked off to make sure they had everything.

“Alrighty lads lay out your gear for inspection.” Price shouted. One by one he went through each of their gear & made sure it was ready for use. Thankfully no one was missing anything. Two Blackhawk helicopters sat on the air strip waiting to take them over the border into Romania. 20:00 came faster then they had anticipated & both teams boarded the helicopters.

The usually chatty Task Force 141 sat in silence. They looked around at each other solemnly, & praying that the Duchess would be still alive. Price couldn’t get the image of her being brutalized. The men were familiar with her philanthropic efforts, & they were infuriated someone would go out their way to hurt her. Y/N had spent time overseas in incredibly dangerous countries delivering medicine herself, & showcasing what children in those countries go through. She was a saint in the public eye & overall was a incredibly kind woman.

“We are over the border gentlemen & in Romania. Fifteen minutes away from target.” The pilot had stated. They were all filled with pure adrenaline by this point eager to get on the ground. “Target located gentlemen.” The pilot. “Gods speed.” The warehouse was below them, & the fast ropes dropped. One by one both teams dropped men. Alejandro’s team took the ground & Task Force 141 took the roof. These terrorists clearly weren’t smart enough to plant guards on the roof.

Ghost kicked in the door the lead to the stairs. He threw in a grenade & then started to use the light on his rifle to lead the team in. They walked past bodies of the men hit by the grenade & started all the way down to the loading docks of the warehouse. Price could tell the warehouse hadn’t been used in years. Rust & mold were all over the metal of the building. Once they made it to the bottom of the stairs, they were greeted with the gun fire. Both Ghost & Price easily eliminated those threats.

Price could hear Alejandro’s team outside, the sound of the gun fire echoed through the building. The lights were completely knocked out but they were able to eliminate any & all targets.

“Captain!” Ghost yelled over the radio alerting Price. “Found her.” He ran over to the room were Ghost was. There she was, Y/N Windsor the Duchess of Windsor. Her ballgown was completely destroyed & was covered in wounds. Some deeper than others. She was entirely unconscious, poor thing couldn’t respond to Ghost’s questions. Thankfully she still had a pulse but it was evident she was hanging by a thread. Price picked her up & she was limp. “Ghost we need to get back to the helicopter.” He said. Over the radio Ghost had alerted Alejandro they had located the Duchess. Price held her close to his body, & tried to apply pressure to the more intense wounds. On the helicopter she was able to open her eyes, & saw the Union Jack on Price’s plate carrier. Still in his arms, she weakly lifted her arm up & pointed to the flag.

“Please don’t let me die,” she mustered out.

“Don’t worry darling, I won’t.” He replied. She then passed out again afterwards.

Finally they were able to get on board the helicopter & out of Romania. Once they had landed base on the air strip on base a ambulance was waiting for them. Price & Laswell sat in the back of the ambulance as a liaison for the Royals. Once at the hospital the staff took her & brought her immediately into surgery. Still covered in the Duchesses blood & sweat Price sat there in the waiting room his leg shaking out of anxiety. Laswell rubbed his back gently in an attempt to comfort him.

Eight hours of surgery later, the surgeon exited the operating room with good news. The Duchess was going to make a full recovery. A wave of relief washed over him. The news outlets were updated almost instantly by Buckingham Palace Officials. Price went everyday to the hospital to visit her. Although she was asleep & he still spoke to her. She infiltrated every single thought he had every waking moment. Soap had teased him a little bit about it only to be met with a death stare.

About a week later, she awoke to the sound of a deep British accent talking to her. The same one that had been in her dreams. She awoke to bright lights & the beeping of the heart monitor. Her moved around violently as she tried to take in her surroundings.

“Love, you’re alright you’re in the hospital.” The voice said as a hand started to pet her hair. She looked over & saw a man with full beard. He looked a little bit older than her. His blue eyes were amplified by the florescent hospital lighting. There was just so comforting about his presence. Two nurses came in & started to check on her vitals. She was able to answer as many questions as they threw at her. The mysterious man with the blue eyes still stood beside her. Once the two nurses left she turned to him.

“Who are you?” She asked. Her voice was meek & was cracking.

“Captain John Price your highness.” He replied. “I had helped lead the effort with my team to rescue you.” A flood of memories came back. She remembered the pain, & the blood stained Union Jack flag on his chest.

“I’m a man of my word love,” He replied & grabbed her hand.

“What?” She replied clearly the fog of amnesia still had it’s effect on her.

“I didn’t let you die love.” He replied. “I kept my promise.” His thumb brushed over her knuckles delicately. She gave him a soft smile in return.

“Thank you Captain Price,” she replied. Little did either one of them knew that this rescue would lead to the Royal Wedding of the decade.

#call of duty #ghost call of duty #cod imagines #ghost x y/n #captain price #john price #captain john price #captain price x y/n #captain price x female reader #john price x reader #cod mwf2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod masterlist #captain johnathan price

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usafphantom2 · 7 months

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This story reminds me of a movie I heard about when my Dad was still flying the SR-71 called “The Russians are coming! The Russians are coming!

In 1977, Buz Carpenter and John Murphy’s TDY at Mildenhall, United Kingdom, was extended to support the air tattoo celebration of the Queen's silver jubilee open house. This would be the first public display of an SR-71 since the record-setting speed record in 1974 from New York to London in under two hours

The SR-71 would be part of the static display but roped off so that people could not touch the aircraft. We were advised that, indeed, the Russians were coming. To prevent the Russians or anybody else from exploiting the display. No sensors were left on the aircraft, all fuel had been removed from the tanks, and the plane was heat-soaked to an ambient temperature to prevent infrared cameras from discovering the aircraft's secrets, internal structure, and support systems. We four crewmembers Buz Carpenter, John Murphy, JT Vida, and Tom Alison were standing around the aircraft, answering questions from the crowd when sure enough the Russians showed up in numbers. They took numerous regular and infrared photos. Some of the Russians even had hidden microscopes.

They were a site to see coming up like a convey of quails. It looks like the Salvation Army had outed them. Their dress sense was from a 1930s movie about American mobsters. They were wearing double-breasted suits made from a rougher cloth than one normally sees.

The head of the Soviet delegation is a former MiG-23 fighter pilot who’s quite relaxed and talkative in his demeanor. He asked John and me to drop in on Vladivostok ( the USSR) as a gesture of peaceful relationship.

We just quipped “please forward that request to our state department” 😆. Buz Carpenter

I found this story in Paul Crickmore‘s new book Lockheed Blackbird Beyond the Secret Missions, the missing chapters.

Linda Sheffield

@Habubrats71 via X

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lietpolski · 1 year

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i deleted the ask because i'm a dumdum, but @sneakystorms asked me to talk about denmark! so here it is, my denmark character analysis through history: warning, this is gonna get long and it will be a mix of canon, real history & my own headcanons!

denmark is a SUCH a fascinating character to me, because he has subtle but really important character development over the centuries!! (both in canon and in my crazy little head)

i think earlier on in his life he was for sure on the cocky side, and he had every reason to be! he and his buddies are destroying the british isles, gaining a presence in continental europe, and being all around incredibly powerful forces. as their presence in britain and ireland dwindles, that's still just fine to him, because now you have the kalmar union! where denmark, sweden and norway (with finland & iceland as territories of the last two) were united under denmark's crown! not only are he and his friends together as a powerful kingdom, but within it he is the one with the most power and political control

we see this manifest in him heavily because he begins to identify as the "leader" of the nordics (both then and in modern times, but i'll get to that later)

he is the leader, he makes the decisions, people listen to him. and that's when he gets too cocky, and it's not just cockiness anymore but a refusal to budge on what he thinks is right. which brings the stockholm bloodbath and the multiple battles that brought about sweden's independence and the end of the kalmar union

and denmark is upset. it's fine for a while, but then things get rough: he begins to lose battle after battle and war after war to sweden. here's a comment that i found interesting: even though denmark kept losing, he continued to risk the safety of the kingdom just for petty revenge

and even some of his other motivations are selfish: pride, wanting to protect the slowly crumbling image of a powerful empire

this also brings into the discussion what i think is a fascinating aspect of norway and denmark's relationship at the time. i think of this in a dennor context but it can be platonic if you'd like! but in both instances of denmark & norway that we see in canon during that time, norway is never bitter at him. denmark is having a rough time geopolitically and he's making mistakes over and over again, but their relationship never becomes strained, because norway cares too much

and in return, denmark who has internalized this idea of him as a leader and a protector comes back to this: he needs to get stronger, needs to make sure it doesn't come to this again

it doesn't last forever. in 1814, denmark-norway enter the napoleonic wars on the wrong side, and as war reparations, denmark must now cede norway to sweden. from himaruya's notes on 1814:

this is a clear example of how denmark's cockiness, his selfishness, his want to be the leader, to best sweden, to get revenge raptured his relationship with norway over time. and the word that stands out to me is childish: denmark is always described as a big brother type in modern day, a little silly but mature, a businessman. not one to throw tantrums and cut ties with his best friend, not because he misses him, but because he lost

and what's left of denmark then? an ex-superpower with increasingly dwindling territory and the man he's been in a union with for almost 500 years given away to the man who's only taken for him for 300 years (albeit, denmark instigated a lot of those doomed battles)

this is where denmark and iceland's relationship becomes so fascinating! because i think now is where the shift begins to happen. don't get me wrong - denmark was never a bad person, he's always cared for the people around him, but he's also been selfish and stupid and careless. and now his best friend's brother is under his care, he's lost everything, and the world stage is changing rapidly. what does denmark do?

well, he tries his best.

he's maybe not as tactful or sweet or comfortable with iceland as he is in modern day, but he tries. as he explains later, he believes he raised iceland. he views himself as his guardian!

also, this is just really cute:

this brings us to the denmark we see in modern day, after two centuries of learning how to be a nation instead of an empire. i think a lot of his modern day personality is a reaction to his past which he deeply regrets. he raises iceland, mends his relationship with norway, even mends his relationship with sweden! he's not the selfish cocky ruler that he used to be, and in my opinion, he purposefully overcompensates, making sure that this time he is listening to others, he is taking their feelings into account, he's more selfless:

we also see how he has redefined his "leader" identity! he still identifies with it, but now he uses it to be a good friend to the people he cares about:

and there he is! denmark, ex warrior, ex ruler, ex asshole trying his best, now reformed dad, friend, and boyfriend, still trying his best :)

there's more to get into, like his relationship with iceland and norway in more depth and other historical relationships like him and estonia, him and england, or him and poland, but that's a story for another day!

#CAN U GUYS TELL THAT DENMARK IS MY FAVOURITE. IDK I THINK IT KINDA SHOWS #hws denmark #hws iceland #hws norway #hws sweden #hetalia #hws #maia talks #if i got any historical facts wrong lmk i was going off memory!

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justforbooks · 8 months

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30 January 1972: Bogside Massacre, or the Bloody Sunday

Bogside Massacre, or the Bloody Sunday, was a massacre on 30 January 1972 in the Bogside area of Derry, Northern Ireland, when British soldiers shot 26 civilians during a protest march against internment without trial. Fourteen people died: 13 were killed outright, while the death of another man four months later was attributed to his injuries. Many of the victims were shot while fleeing from the soldiers, and some were shot while trying to help the wounded. Other protesters were injured by shrapnel, rubber bullets, or batons, and two were run down by army vehicles. All of those shot were Catholics. The march had been organised by the Northern Ireland Civil Rights Association (NICRA). The soldiers were from the 1st Battalion, Parachute Regiment (“1 Para”), the same regiment implicated in the Ballymurphy massacre several months prior.

Two investigations were held by the British government. The Widgery Tribunal, held in the immediate aftermath, largely cleared the soldiers and British authorities of blame. It described the soldiers’ shooting as “bordering on the reckless”, but accepted their claims that they shot at gunmen and bomb-throwers. The report was widely criticised as a “whitewash”. The Saville Inquiry, chaired by Lord Saville of Newdigate, was established in 1998 to reinvestigate the incident. Following a 12-year investigation, Saville’s report was made public in 2010 and concluded that the killings were both “unjustified” and “unjustifiable”. It found that all of those shot were unarmed, that none were posing a serious threat, that no bombs were thrown and that soldiers “knowingly put forward false accounts” to justify their firing. The soldiers denied shooting the named victims but also denied shooting anyone by mistake. On publication of the report, the British prime minister David Cameron made a formal apology on behalf of the United Kingdom. Following this, police began a murder investigation into the killings.

Bloody Sunday came to be regarded as one of the most significant events of the Troubles, because many civilians were killed by forces of the state, in full view of the public and the press. It was the highest number of people killed in a single shooting incident during the conflict and is considered the worst mass shooting in Northern Irish history. Bloody Sunday fuelled Catholic and Irish nationalist hostility towards the British Army and worsened the conflict. Support for the Provisional Irish Republican Army (IRA) rose, and there was a surge of recruitment into the organisation, especially locally.

In all, 26 people were shot by the paratroopers; 13 died on the day and another died of his injuries four months later. The dead were killed in four main areas: the rubble barricade across Rossville Street, the courtyard car park of Rossville Flats (on the north side of the flats), the courtyard car park of Glenfada Park, and the forecourt of Rossville Flats (on the south side of the flats).

All of the soldiers responsible insisted that they had shot at, and hit, gunmen or bomb-throwers. No soldier said he missed his target and hit someone else by mistake. The Saville Report concluded that all of those shot were unarmed and that none were posing a serious threat. It also concluded that none of the soldiers fired in response to attacks, or threatened attacks, by gunmen or bomb-throwers. No warnings were given before soldiers opened fire.

The casualties are listed in the order in which they were killed.

John ‘Jackie’ Duddy, age 17. Shot as he ran away from soldiers in the car park of Rossville Flats. The bullet struck him in the shoulder and entered his chest. Three witnesses said they saw a soldier take deliberate aim at the youth as he ran. He was the first fatality on Bloody Sunday. Both Saville and Widgery concluded that Duddy was unarmed.

Michael Kelly, age 17. Shot in the stomach while standing at the rubble barricade on Rossville Street. Both Saville and Widgery concluded that Kelly was unarmed. The Saville Inquiry concluded that 'Soldier F’ shot Kelly.

Hugh Gilmour, age 17. Shot as he ran away from soldiers near the rubble barricade. The bullet went through his left elbow and entered his chest. Widgery acknowledged that a photograph taken seconds after Gilmour was hit corroborated witness reports that he was unarmed. The Saville Inquiry concluded that 'Private U’ shot Gilmour.

William Nash, age 19. Shot in the chest at the rubble barricade. Three people were shot while apparently going to his aid, including his father Alexander Nash.

John Young, age 17. Shot in the face at the rubble barricade, apparently while crouching and going to the aid of William Nash.

Michael McDaid, age 20. Shot in the face at the rubble barricade, apparently while crouching and going to the aid of William Nash.

Kevin McElhinney, age 17. Shot from behind, near the rubble barricade, while attempting to crawl to safety.

James 'Jim’ Wray, age 22. Shot in the back while running away from soldiers in Glenfada Park courtyard. He was then shot again in the back as he lay mortally wounded on the ground. Witnesses, who were not called to the Widgery Tribunal, stated that Wray was calling out that he could not move his legs before he was shot the second time. 'Soldier F’ faces charges for his murder.

William McKinney, age 26. Shot in the back as he attempted to flee through Glenfada Park courtyard. 'Soldier F’ faces charges for his murder.

Gerard 'Gerry’ McKinney, age 35. Shot in the chest at Abbey Park. A soldier, identified as 'Private G’, ran through an alleyway from Glenfada Park and shot him from a few yards away. Witnesses said that when he saw the soldier, McKinney stopped and held up his arms, shouting “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”, before being shot. The bullet apparently went through his body and struck Gerard Donaghy behind him.

Gerard 'Gerry’ Donaghy, age 17. Shot in the stomach at Abbey Park while standing behind Gerard McKinney. Both were apparently struck by the same bullet. Bystanders brought Donaghy to a nearby house. A doctor examined him, and his pockets were searched for identification. Two bystanders then attempted to drive Donaghy to hospital, but the car was stopped at an Army checkpoint. They were ordered to leave the car and a soldier drove the vehicle to a Regimental Aid Post, where an Army medical officer pronounced Donaghy dead. Shortly after, soldiers found four nail bombs in his pockets. The civilians who searched him, the soldier who drove him to the Army post, and the Army medical officer, all said that they did not see any bombs. This led to claims that soldiers planted the bombs on Donaghy to justify the killings.

Patrick Doherty, age 31. Shot from behind while attempting to crawl to safety in the forecourt of Rossville Flats. The Saville Inquiry concluded that he was shot by 'Soldier F’, who came out of Glenfada Park. Doherty was photographed, moments before and after he died, by French journalist Gilles Peress. Despite testimony from 'Soldier F’ that he had shot a man holding a pistol, Widgery acknowledged that the photographs show Doherty was unarmed, and that forensic tests on his hands for gunshot residue proved negative.

Bernard 'Barney’ McGuigan, age 41. Shot in the back of the head when he walked out from cover to help Patrick Doherty. He had been waving a white handkerchief to indicate his peaceful intentions. The Saville Inquiry concluded that he was shot by 'Soldier F’.

John Johnston, age 59. Shot in the leg and left shoulder on William Street 15 minutes before the rest of the shooting started. Johnston was not on the march, but on his way to visit a friend in Glenfada Park. He died on 16 June 1972; his death has been attributed to the injuries he received on the day. He was the only fatality not to die immediately or soon after being shot.

Paul McCartney (who is of Irish descent) recorded the first song in response only two days after the incident. The single, entitled “Give Ireland Back to the Irish”, expressed his views on the matter. This song was one of few McCartney released with Wings to be banned by the BBC.

The 1972 John Lennon album Some Time in New York City features a song entitled “Sunday Bloody Sunday”, inspired by the incident, as well as the song “The Luck of the Irish”, which dealt more with the Irish conflict in general. Lennon, who was of Irish descent, also spoke at a protest in New York in support of the victims and families of Bloody Sunday.

Irish poet Thomas Kinsella’s 1972 poem Butcher’s Dozen is a satirical and angry response to the Widgery Tribunal and the events of Bloody Sunday.

Black Sabbath’s Geezer Butler (also of Irish descent) wrote the lyrics to the Black Sabbath song “Sabbath Bloody Sabbath” on the album of the same name in 1973. Butler stated, “…the Sunday Bloody Sunday thing had just happened in Ireland, when the British troops opened fire on the Irish demonstrators… So I came up with the title 'Sabbath Bloody Sabbath’, and sort of put it in how the band was feeling at the time, getting away from management, mixed with the state Ireland was in.”

The Roy Harper song “All Ireland” from the album Lifemask, written in the days following the incident, is critical of the military but takes a long-term view with regard to a solution. In Harper’s book (The Passions of Great Fortune), his comment on the song ends “…there must always be some hope that the children of 'Bloody Sunday’, on both sides, can grow into some wisdom”.

Brian Friel’s 1973 play The Freedom of the City deals with the incident from the viewpoint of three civilians.

Irish poet Seamus Heaney’s Casualty (published in Field Work, 1981) criticizes Britain for the death of his friend.

The Irish rock band U2 commemorated the incident in their 1983 protest song “Sunday Bloody Sunday”.

Christy Moore’s song “Minds Locked Shut” on the album Graffiti Tongue is all about the events of the day, and names the dead civilians.

The events of the day have been dramatised in two 2002 television films, Bloody Sunday (starring James Nesbitt) and Sunday by Jimmy McGovern.

The Celtic metal band Cruachan addressed the incident in a song “Bloody Sunday” from their 2004 album Folk-Lore.

Willie Doherty, a Derry-born artist, has amassed a large body of work which addresses the troubles in Northern Ireland. “30 January 1972” deals specifically with the events of Bloody Sunday.

In mid-2005, the play Bloody Sunday: Scenes from the Saville Inquiry, a dramatisation based on the Saville Inquiry, opened in London, and subsequently travelled to Derry and Dublin. The writer, journalist Richard Norton-Taylor, distilled four years of evidence into two hours of stage performance at the Tricycle Theatre. The play received glowing reviews in all the British broadsheets, including The Times: “The Tricycle’s latest recreation of a major inquiry is its most devastating”; The Daily Telegraph: “I can’t praise this enthralling production too highly… exceptionally gripping courtroom drama”; and The Independent: “A necessary triumph”.

In October 2010, T with the Maggies released the song “Domhnach na Fola” (Irish for “Bloody Sunday”), written by Mairéad Ní Mhaonaigh and Tríona Ní Dhomhnaill on their debut album.

Read more about the Bogside Massacre

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

#just for books #today in history

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themakeupbrush · 11 months

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Miss International UK 2023 National Costume

The iconic Vivienne Westwood - a fashion designer and activist who influenced the creation of my national costume for so many reasons' Vivienne Westwood used her fashion as a vehicle to prevent climate change, which many of you know goes hand in hand with my views on fast fashion. To support her legacy, the gloves, VW tie, pearls and hat from this costume are all second hand A whilst the main body of the costume was created in Bulgaria by a woman entrepreneur - I chose this lady specifically, not only because she specialises in creating outfits from beautiful tartan but it's also important to support our fellow women in business! However, this costume resonates with me on a deeper level as my heritage is Scottish and my surname, "Cowie" is of Scottish descent As a model it only seemed right to take inspiration from one of the many iconic runway looks, this one was from Vivienne Westwood Fall edition in 1994

#miss international #pageant #united kingdom #national costume #national costume contest

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j-eryewrites · 2 years

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It Was a Rainy Day

Part One of The Arbitrary Lives of the Occupants of 221 B Baker Street

Word Count: 4.9k

Thanks to @bartokthealbinobat for helping me edit this chapter!

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

I'm planning this to be an ongoing Sherlock x Reader series that mainly flows the plot of the BBC series. Let me know what you would like to see.

DISCLOSURE: I do not own any of the characters and plot. Those belong to BBC and Arthur Conan Doyle.

__________________________________________________________

“On behalf of our crew, we thank you again for choosing to fly with BWA Airlines. Please stay seated until the seat belt sign has been turned off. We will begin exiting the plane soon.” The speakers above chimed.

Immediately, chatter filled up the air. People were anxious to get off the plane. In all honesty, they had just endured an eight-hour international flight. Ching. The glow from the seatbelt sign flashed off, signaling for people to stand up and stretch their legs. Y/N would have taken the opportunity to stretch her legs, but she was seated next to the window towards the back of the plane. She didn’t think she would be standing up any time soon. Instead, Y/N occupied herself with the view outside of her window.

The sky was an opaque gray. Numerous dark clouds of the same hue covered the warm light of the sun, stopping it from gracing its presence. It was raining. A typical forecast for London in September. But it wasn’t a gentle rain; the rain that tickled your skin as it fell from the sky. No, it was the rain that soaks you to the bone the minute you step outside– real rain. The best kind of rain. Y/N found the rain to be peaceful. Maybe it was the smell that came with the rain as it made the earth anew. Maybe it was the unpredictable yet consistent pattern of the pitter-patter as the water came in contact with the soil. Y/N enjoyed the view of the rain. She let her gaze flip out of focus as she watched the ripples in the puddles. Each wave moved farther away from the center.

“Pardon me, miss.” A cheery flight attendant chirped. The flight attendant’s eyes had dark circles underneath them, yet they held the most pleasant expression. “If you can exit the plane now, we need to prepare for the next flight.”

Y/N tore her eyes away from the view and quickly apologized. Her cheeks burned red out of embarrassment as she hurriedly stood up, snatched her luggage from the overhead compartment, and exited the plane. She was glad that the plane was docked at the main section of the airport, so she didn’t have to trudge through the rain. Any other day she would have been overjoyed to be soaked to the bone, but not today. Y/N wanted to look somewhat presentable when she reunited with her aunt, Mrs. Hudson.

Martha Louise Hudson wasn't Y/N’s aunt by blood, but she was her grandmother’s best friend. Those two were peas in a pod. After Y/N’s grandmother had suddenly passed away from a heart attack, Mrs. Hudson took it upon herself to occupy the vacant role.

“No child should grow up without a grandparent. They need someone to spoil them rotten,” Mrs. Hudson would say.

Despite her family’s abrupt decision to move to the United States, Mrs. Hudson continued filling that role. Occasionally, she would send postcards and presents for birthdays and Christmas detailing her adventures in London. The latest of which was a postcard describing a vacant apartment she was looking to rent. With the prospect of seeing Mrs. Hudson again, with the additional benefits of living in the United Kingdom, Y/N packed up her life and moved back across the ocean.

Baggage claim for flight AQ178. Baggage...It wasn’t hard to miss. All Y/N had to do was peer across the vast sea of people to where the crowd stood. They were all huddled around the baggage carousel. All of them dismissed the advice to stay behind the yellow and black striped line unless they were retrieving their baggage. One by one, they retrieved their bags as they moved down the line.

Eventually, after many turns of the metallic carousel, Y/N’s bags came into view. She crossed the line and grabbed the large suitcases. It was strange to think that all her worldly possessions fit into two suitcases. The cases were covered in dust and grime from the journey despite them being brand-new. Y/N counted each suitcase, a notion in the back of her mind told her something was missing. An unholy screech rang out above the crowd. A sound that could only come from the jaws of a tiny demon–her tiny demon. Y/N winced in embarrassment as she slipped out a small sheet of paper from her pocket. The screeching continued, dragging the attention of innocent travelers. Her cheeks began to flash red as she approached a desk.

Behind the desk there stood a poor young man who was made the unfortunate victim. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and his brows were raised impossibly high. In his shaking hands, he held a crate at arm's length, as if the brown cat inside would bust down the door and steal his soul.

Y/N reached the desk, and coughed, “He’s mine.” She pointed towards the cat who stilled at the sound of her voice.

The man gulped, nodding, and asked to see her ticket to confirm ownership. She quickly presented it to him. His eyes quickly glanced over it. Then he sighed in relief and threw the crate into her hands.

Y/N carefully peered into the crate and was met with the wide golden eyes of Bjørn. The cat stood still as his golden eyes processed what was in front of him. They narrowed slightly and he began to meow again. He was no longer screeching like a demon but singing like an angelic child for his mother had arrived. Y/N whispered words of assurance to the cat, praising him for being the best boy on the flight. He purred under her sweet words.

Y/N’s pocket buzzed, and she carefully set Bjørn’s crate down. Her eyes quickly glanced outside to discover the rain had lightened up. Remembering someone had messaged her, she pulled out her phone and began to read.

___________________________________________________________________

Auntie M

I’m sending one of my good friends and one of your neighbours to come and pick you up from the airport.

His name is John Watson, blonde, and a kind man.

(Read)

___________________________________________________________________

Y/N raised her brow at the message. She was puzzled as to why Mrs. Hudson had sent the description of “kind”. As she read the text over, the cogs in her mind began to turn. Y/N tried to conjure up an image of what a kind British man named John, who happened to be a friend of her Auntie's, looked like.

Picking up Bjørn’s crate, she lugged her bags toward the exit. She passed by people entering and leaving the airport. Some people ran into the arms of their loved ones and others jumped into taxis that took them to their next destination.

Her feet began to slow finally coming to a stop. She turned her head, looking around the crowd. She bit her lip, and a dazed look filled her face. A low drone crept up to her. Y/N’s eyes were immediately dragged down to the taxi in front of her. With a creak, the passenger’s window rolled down.

“Hel’o there, how can I help you today?” inquired the taxi driver. The man wore a white and beige flat cap. He was an older-looking fellow who wore glasses. He flashed Y/N a smile that made her stomach fill with unease.

“Oh no thank you” she quickly replied, stepping away from the car window and closer to the booming crowd outside of the airport.

“American, eh? I’ll be able to take you where you need to go. No problem. You can trust me,” He insisted. With his hand aged with time, he took off his cap and brushed through his wispy white hair. His smile grew bigger as he faked a charming expression.

“No thanks,” answered Y/N. The alarms in her head were howling at her. “I am waiting for someone, you see, to come to pick me up.” Taking a big step back, she sank into the crowd behind her. A woman wearing all pink brushed her shoulder against Y/N. Y/N’s eyes winced at the explosion of color. Everything about this woman was pink: pink phone, pink suitcase, pink overcoat.

“Are you taking this cab?” distractedly asked the woman as she stuffed her baggage into the cab.

“No,” replied Y/N. She wanted to warn the woman in pink, but before she could, the taxi had pulled away from the pickup station and was on its way to who knows where. A buzzing feeling came from the back pocket of her trousers. Pulling her phone out she saw another message from her aunt.

________

Auntie M

I just realized I should probably give you John’s number.

Y/N

- That would actually be great.

Auntie M

Sending it to you right now. I’ll be making a nice dinner to warm you up after all that rain.

Also, your apartment is all set up and waiting for you. :)

Y/N

- Great, that sounds perfect. Thanks, Auntie M

____________

As she waited for John’s number, Y/N thought it would be best to head back inside and find a place to sit. Hearing the ding of her phone and a number pop up she mumbled, “Remind me to thank Auntie M for that…”

An Irish voice popped up next to her, and Y/N’s gaze rose from the screen of her phone to meet dark and mysterious chocolate eyes. “Remember to thank your aunt for that” he chuckled.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. Her eyes scanned the man up and down. He had an edgy and cool air to him. With his smirk, he oozed confidence. There was something about him that intrigued her. He had brown hair that was well-groomed and wore a nicely tailored suit. He reciprocated Y/N’s smile and even more of his charm showed through. “The name is Jim, '' introduced the man. He extended his hand for her to shake.

Y/N couldn’t help but let a giggle escape her lips as she firmly shook Jim’s hand. His grip was warm and strong. “Y/N, and thank you for the reminder, Jim.”

“Anytime.” He replied, making himself comfortable in the open seat next to her. They settled into a pleasant silence. The only sounds that occupied their ears were the wheels of rolling luggage and the light chatter of the other travellers and guests of the airport.

“Work, family, or friends?” inquired Jim, his head tilting slightly to the right to look at Y/N.

“Sorry?”

“What are you here for?” Jim clarified.

“I guess you could say work and a bit of family,” answered Y/N. She began to secretly pick at her fingers, a stim, and nervous habit of hers. Jim cocked one of his eyebrows up with curiosity. “I'm moving back to my roots.”

“From London?” Jim questioned, furthering the conversation.

Y/N paused before answering. The encounter with the taxi driver was still fresh in her memory. She sighed and her shoulder’s relaxed. It wouldn’t hurt to have a friendly conversation, she thought.

“Yeah.” She replied. “I was born here but after a few years my parents and I moved to the U.S.” She shrugged, “and now I’m back.”

“And now you’re back,” Jim repeated softly. There was a minute shift in his expression into something Y/N couldn’t decipher. By the time she noticed it, it was gone; leaving Y/N to wonder if she had imagined it. “Well, London is delighted to have you back,” Jim winked. Then he readjusted his seating position as he straightened his black suit jacket.

“Well, I have to leave. Business to attend to” smiled Jim, “I bid you adieu”. Standing up from the seat next to her, he gave her one more smile. His eyes lingered on her figure. Without another word, he took a few steps, disappearing into the crowd of people.

She sat back in her seat, the image of Jim in her mind. Her thoughts trailed from Jim to her aunt and then…Shit! Y/N realized she did not text John’s number. Immediately pulling out her phone, she sent a quick text. A little gray bubble appeared, and he responded by saying he was there at the airport with a taxi outside. Raising from her seat, she, once again, made her way out of the airport. Y/N searched the crowd, her eyes looking for a man that fit the vague description her aunt had given her.

Just then a young man with kind dark eyes, the shade of morning coffee, and blonde hair approached her. He was wearing a beige knit sweater. Hand knitted...looks like Auntie’s knitting...is this… but her thought was interrupted by his voice. “Are you Y/N? Mrs. Hudson’s niece?” he inquired.

“Yes, that’s me, are you John?” replied Y/N.

“Yep, John. John Watson. Can I help you with your bags?” politely asked John.

A wave of relief fell over Y/N, “Yes, thank you, John.”

John reached for two bags of luggage and began directing Y/N to where the cab was. “It’s no problem really, just doing a favour for Mrs. Hudson” he explained, turning his gaze back to Y/N to smile at her. It was strange to think about how there could be so many different types of smiles. John’s smile was different from Jim’s confident grin, and the eerie smirk of that taxi driver. John’s smile was kind, caring, and calm. It reminded Y/N of the smile etched onto a Teddy bear’s face.

John carefully placed Y/N’s luggage in the trunk. Afterward, he held the door open for Y/N to enter the back seat. John sat down after her, closing the door behind him. “221 B Baker Street” instructed John. The driver nodded and drove off, the station growing smaller and smaller behind them.

After a few moments of silence, John peered at the crate on Y/N’s lap. “You have a cat,” stated John with a questioning tone to his voice.

“Yes, his name is Bjørn.” Bjørn happily meowed in response to his name.

“Didn’t know Mrs. Hudson allowed pets in the apartment,” replied John. He lowered his head to get a good look at Bjørn’s yellow eyes. He smiled at the cat which was reciprocated by a purr.

“Oh, I think he likes you!” Y/N beamed.

John raised his brows flattered by the obvious complement of the cat. He cautiously reached a hand out to pet Bjørn through the crate, his eyes glancing up at Y/N. She nodded and he proceeded to pet the cat. Bjørn’s purrs rumbled the cage as he brushed his neck eagerly against John’s fingers.

“Bjørn, you attention whore,” laughed Y/N. She watched as John’s eyes widened at the cat’s affection. It was as if he was a child who’d been handed an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day.

“I’m sure Mrs. Hudson would approve of you getting a pet for your flat,” stated Y/N. Her eyes reflected John’s adoration for the cat.

“Oh god no!” Exclaimed John withdrawing his hand from Bjørn. “My flat mate is enough of an animal as it is.” He chuckled. “I don’t need another one.” His voice turned quieter towards the end, creating an awkward air between the two in the back of the cab.

“...You have a flat mate?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah.” Responded John.

Y/N awkwardly nodded her head and then moved her gaze to the window.

By now, the sky was the textbook definition of gray. The dark rain cloud from before had fled, leaving the sky empty and barren. Everything seemed dulled by the gray tint the sky cast down. Even the brightly colored leaves and the shimmering lights of the city seemed to fall victim to the solemness.

Eventually, the cab began to decrease in speed as it approached 221 B Baker Street, slowly coming to a halt.

“We’re here” stated John as he paid for the cab before exiting onto Baker Street. He then made his way around the car to Y/N’s side and opened the door for her. He eagerly took Bjørn’s crate from her hands.

Y/N stepped onto the black pavement of Baker Street and took a moment to process her new environment. Then she made her way to the trunk of the cab to retrieve her luggage. John had taken the liberty of placing Bjørn inside 221 and let Mrs. Hudson know that they had arrived back from the airport. He then walked back outside to help Y/N with her luggage. Mrs. Hudson followed suit to greet her grandniece.

“N/N, welcome home!” exclaimed Mrs. Hudson as she made her way to Y/N. Y/N turned toward her aunt. She had a gleeful smile on her face as she reunited with her aunt. Mrs. Hudson opened her arms wide beckoning Y/N in for a hug. As soon as her niece was in arms reach, Mrs. Hudson yanked the young woman into her arms and gave her a tight squeeze. She slightly rocked Y/N back and forth. A large smile erupted on Mrs. Hudson’s face, and she became overjoyed. “Let’s have a look at you, shall we?” she said, pulling away from the hug to place her hands on Y/N’s face and tugging at her cheeks. “My you have grown up to be so beautiful! Just like your mum!”

“Thanks, auntie” sheepishly replied Y/N. Her cheeks turned pink from all the attention she was receiving.

“Oh, it’s so good to have you home. We have some catching up to do!” cheered Mrs. Hudson as she led the way inside 221.

John was patiently waiting by the bottom of the stairs inside the building. Her eyes ran up the steps which Y/N assumed, led up to John’s apartment. “Need anything else Y/N?” inquired John, giving a cheerful smile.

“No, I don’t need anything else.” Y/N gratefully replied. “But if you want to take Bjørn out of his carrier and meet him properly, you are more than welcome to.”

John’s eyes widened with delight as he crouched down toward the crate. With a twang, he released the cat from its confines. Bjørn paraded around. His brown furry head was held high as explored his new kingdom. He then noticed John beside him, quickly bringing head to butt against John’s leg.

A loud creaking came from the upstairs flat, scaring Bjørn. He dashed from John’s side toward his mother. She picked him up and cradled him in her arms. His tail swished around as his golden eyes narrowed in the direction of the noise. Distaste eminent in his tiny figure.

John took that as his cue to leave. “Alright then, welcome to London.” He said before making his way up the stairs to his apartment.

A sigh escaped Mrs. Hudson's lips, “I’m so glad that you’ve moved in. At least, I’ll have a bit more normalcy with you here.” She moved her gaze upstairs to where muffled voices were coming from. Y/N could make out two voices. One belonged to John and the other to, who she assumed was, his flatmate. The flatmate’s voice was baritone and clear.

“Well dear, dinner will be ready soon. Why don’t you go on into your new apartment and get settled? I got it all checked out and even got rid of Sherlock's mold experiment.”

Y/N widened her eyes and opened her mouth to ask but was drowned out by her aunt's continued explanation.

“I had to replace the wallpaper, but I think you’ll like the paint I chose,” explained Mrs. Hudson. “I’ll come and get you when dinner’s done.” She then grabbed a pair of keys out of her pocket and handed them to Y/N. “This key is for entering the building,” she pointed to the brass key and then moved her finger towards a thin black key that looked quite old, “and this key is to your apartment.” Then she patted Y/N’s back sending her in the direction of her new apartment.

The apartment was located on the same floor as Mrs. Hudson’s apartment. Just underneath John’s apartment. The walls were covered in beautiful dark green paint. The curtains looked a bit worn around the edges, but overall, it was cozy. Mrs. Hudson had allowed Y/N to decorate and improve the apartment to her liking, which is something she was very grateful for. But first, she needed time to unpack everything. She placed Bjørn down once the door had been closed. The brown cat immediately gave a big stretch and yawned. Bjørn then looked up towards Y/N as if he was saying he would be exploring now and took off. Chuckling, Y/N brought her luggage to her room and began the time-consuming process of unpacking.

It wasn’t long before Mrs. Hudson entered her niece’s apartment to notify her that dinner was ready. When the elderly lady entered, she was met with open boxes scattered everywhere and loud music playing from the Y/N’s phone.

“Y/N, dear…” grabbing Y/N’s attention, “dinner is ready”.

Moving towards the phone, Y/N let the music die down. “I’ll be there in a minute, just let me finish unpacking this one thing.”

“Of course, dear” replied Mrs. Hudson. “Oh!” Mrs. Hudson chuckled as Bjørn rubbed up against her. “What a good boy.” She reached down to pet the cat. Standing up she brushed her hands off and made her way back out the door, slowly and carefully closing it behind her.

Y/N placed the last book on the shelf and smacked her hands together in a wiping motion. “Right then, dinner.” She carefully stepped over the numerous cardboard boxes lying around the apartment. Eventually, she reached her door. Bjørn’s head peaked up in interest as the knob of the door turned. “No, Bjørn. I’ll be back”. The cat seemed to acknowledge her statement and jumped on the couch. After a few customary circles, he was satisfied and collapsed down to the soft surface.

Upon closing the door, Y/N heard two pairs of footsteps making their way down the stairs. She stood still listening to them.

“No John, I do not intend on greeting the new neighbor.” There was that baritone voice again. John’s flat mate.

“Come on Sherlock. She’s Mrs. Hudson’s niece, at least do it for her.” pleaded John.

The footsteps had ceased, and a deafening silence had filled the air. “For the last time, John. I do not intend to meet this new neighbor. I guarantee you that she will have moved out by the end of the week. As most of the other tenants of 221 do.” Then a tall man wearing a long black trench coat appeared and then quickly disappeared as he slammed the door to Baker Street.

“For heaven’s sake, Sherlock,” yelled John as he followed his flat mate out the door.

Y/N huffed in anger, as she made her way to her aunt’s flat. I don’t want to meet you too, Sherlock, she thought. Y/N didn’t even have to knock on the door for Mrs. Hudson to state that she could come in. “Door’s open, come on in”.

Mrs. Hudson was finishing placing the dishware on the table. “Sounds like you just missed John and Sherlock” chimed Mrs. Hudson.

“And a good thing too,” muttered Y/N, causing Mrs. Hudson to ask her to repeat, “Oh nothing.”

“Alright then. Let’s not let dinner get cold,” Mrs. Hudson said as she motioned to the seats signaling Y/N to sit down for dinner.

They chatted amongst themselves. Y/N relayed all the latest detail of her life to her surrogate grandmother: who she was friends with, her job, past relationships, how her family was, the whole lot. As they shared the meal, Y/N felt her bond with Mrs. Hudson restore as if she never moved away in the first place.

Now, it was Y/N’s turn to ask a question. “Who is John’s flat mate?,” Y/N pondered.

“That’ll be Sherlock.” Mrs. Hudson crinkled her eyes and nose with fondness. “He’s a consulting detective.”

“A consulting detective? Never heard of it,” Y/N mentioned.

“Consults on difficult criminal cases. He helps Scotland Yard solves crimes and murders. He’s the one who got my husband the death sentence” explained Mrs. Hudson. Her eyes widened at the statement. “Any tea, Y/N?”

Glancing up from the now empty plate, Y/N replied, “Oh, no thanks”.

Mrs. Hudson then nodded her head and continued to talk about Sherlock, bringing a hand to her heart. She talked about all the strange people who came to visit him. Often relaying stories that would make Y/N raise her brows in concern. Mrs. Hudson’s face contorted as she mentioned his strange and disturbing experiments, one of which was the mold that used to occupy Y/N’s flat. Switching back to her cheerful smile, she began proudly explaining Sherlock’s gift of being able to tell almost everything about a person.

Y/N’s head began pounding as it filled up with all the compliments her aunt had to say about Sherlock. She chuckled trying to hide a wince from the pain in her head. Y/N placed down her fork and knife and leaned in slightly toward her aunt. “Auntie M, thank you for dinner, but…” she trailed off. “I’m feeling tired, and I think that the jet lag is getting to me.”

Looking up in concern, Mrs. Hudson rose from her seat, “Of course, N/N.” She gave Y/N a soft smile and headed towards the door, opening it to let her niece out. “Goodnight, sleep well.” She reached out a hand to pat her niece’s shoulder.

“Goodnight” replied Y/N.

As Mrs. Hudson closed the door, Y/N brought a hand to her temple massaging it. It was still pounding. She trudged to her flat and opened it. With little effort, she crawled into bed. Bjørn hopped up next to her. He snuggled up close purring loudly as she lazily pet him. Her hand slowly fell limp on top of Bjørn’s brown fur. His deep purrs slowly guided his owner gently to sleep.

_____________________________________________________________

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mjmagics · 1 year

Text

Chapter 2

Warnings: MC almost gets kidnapped, anxiety of large places, MC swearing a lot, teenage hormonal responses

Rating: 14+ THE ONLY STORY ON MY ACCOUNT NOT 18+

Word Count: 1,500+

I’m not an idiot

Gotham City, New Jersey. USA

Robin watched as a plane landed at the Gotham International Airport or the GIA. According to his father’s research, a gang leader who went by the name of King of Spades would be coming home to America from the United Kingdom, where he robbed a series of banks. He caused quite a stir for Batman’s allies in the UK, and the whole team was eager to end his criminal career, along with his gang members.

“Batman, I see the target,” Robin stated, pressing down on the earpiece he wore so those on the comlink could hear him.

“Great job, Robin,” Batman replied. “Now get to the next zone, Red Robin and Nightwing are in the building to monitor the target. Do not engage. We are to follow him to the hideout of the Royal Flush Gang.”

The boy in red and green sighed. “I know, Batman, I’m not an idiot.”

“I was simply reminding you,” Batman pointed out. “There is a break-in at a local retail store, Spoiler and I will handle it,” The man announced before cutting off the conversation.

“You know what would be useful right now?” A voice came through on the intercom.

“What, Nightwing?” Robin asked.

“Oo! Let me guess,” yet another voice exclaimed. “Miss Martian’s mental link?”

“Ding ding ding,” Nightwing replied. “Red Robin is our winner.” Then the man sighed, “I’m missing my old team. Missions like this always remind me of them.”

“Sorry we’re not good enough for you, Grayson,” Robin spat.

“Boys, focus,” Batman’s voice came through on the earpiece. “And no real names, you all know this.”

Robin tutted in frustration. “Yes sir.”

“I can feel your anger from here, Robin,” Nightwing stated, there was a shutter in his voice before he let out a dry laugh. “Shit, I see our target. He is making his way to the far east exit.”

“On it,” Red Robin replied. “I have eyes on him, is Batgirl and Red Hood ready?”

“They are,” Batman answered. “Robin, can you tag his car?”

“That’s easy,” Robin stated. “I was trained since a child for missions much more strenuous than this.”

“Strenuous?” Nightwing asked.

“It’s a synonym for hard,” the younger chuckled. “It’s a bit disappointing you don’t know the word.”

“Ouch, how does that burn feel, Nightwing,” Red Robin chimed with a chuckle.

“I know what strenuous means, I’ m just surprised you know,” Nightwing sighed with defeat.

“I’m not an idiot.”

“I never said you were!”

“I’m heading to the car now,” Robin growled before switching off his Bluetooth device and storming out of the area.

On the other side of the airport, Jade Knutsvig was just stepping off the warm plane and into the humid building full of bodies pushing and pulling to board their flights on time. Her eyes widened as she assessed the large building. In all her years she had never been in an airport as large as GIA. Other than the Mall of America, she had never been in a place this large. She had barely traveled outside of her home state. It was completely foreign to the girl.

After the first wave of shock passed, she found herself sitting on a bench, taking in the glass walls that allowed the pale orange light of the setting sun into the structure. It reminded her of tree sap, and she pulled a piece of crystallized amber from her carry-on. Amber could absorb negative energy, and ever since she was a young girl she was able to rely on the smooth stone to ease her anxieties.

Jade whispered a small prayer to herself. It wasn’t to any god, but it was a cry for the universe to help guide her through the maze of the airport. After a few deep breaths, Jade pulled out her phone to message her sister. As the device turned on she could see the shadow of a man looming over her. Without looking at him she could already feel an untrustworthy energy radiating from his aura.

“Are you lost?” The man questioned. “Where is your mom?”

“I’m by myself,” She swiftly answered. The girl was unfamiliar with the hostilities of larger communities. Jade grew up in the comfort of small towns where everyone knew their neighbors and had their noses in one another's business. Her eyes glanced up at the man, and once she made eye contact with him her stomach dropped.

“My name is Bruce Wayne. You might not know of me, but I’m a bit of a celebrity around here. I saw you got off a fight from Minneapolis. Are you from there?”

“No,” Jade whispered. Where is Eliza she found herself thinking. She flies me all the way out to Gotham only to abandon me in an airport!

Being stuck in her thoughts, Jade missed the moment that the man before her reached for her right forearm. His large hand grasped her body, and a rough pull brought her to her feet.

“Woah, dude,” She exclaimed, trying to tug away from him. Her attempt to escape his friends was useless and it only made him hold tighter. “You don’t know what you’re doing! My sister is waiting for me, she will know I’m missing.”

Pleading wasn’t helping Jade’s case, and the man began to lead Jade into the crowd of the airport. Her bag was left behind on the bench, along with her phone. Panic began to set in. This was nothing like home.

“Help!” Jade screamed, “Help me! Someone!”

The man began to dig his nails into her skin, “shut up,” he growled. He then turned to the crowd the circled them. “Sorry, my daughter is just throwing a fit.”

“Help! Please. I don’t know this man!” The young woman began to recall what her older sister taught her many years ago. “Please! This isn’t my dad!”

“Barbra?” A voice sounded from the crowd, and a man with bright blue eyes and dark hair stepped out. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Another stranger? Why couldn’t her sister be here to grab her? Yet, this guy seemed a lot better than the man who has dragged her across the airport. “Uh- Hi,” Jade said awkwardly. “I don’t know this man. I think he’s trying to kidnap me.”

The assailant let go of the teen and began to push his way through the crowd. The man who referee to her as Barbara stepped closer. “Hey, let me help you.”

“I’m okay,” Jade snapped. She was anxious, homesick, and had her life flash before her eyes. Overthinking took over her, and her brain visualized each situation that could have come to her if the man hadn’t saved her.

“It's no bother,” The man stated.

“I thank you for your help,” Jade huffed, checking her pockets for anything she might have. The girl found nothing but wanted to gift the man something. She closed her eyes while her right hand was shoved in her hoodie pocket and created a shard of jade stone. She presented it to him, flat in her palm. “Here, a token of my appreciation.”

The man accepted it and opened his mouth as if he was going to comment on it. Before he could another man, closer to Jade’s sister’s age, stood next to him. “Hey, I know you’re trying to play hero but she’s safe. We have things to do.”

The man who saved Jade nodded. “Thank you,” He stated, shaking the piece of jade that was in his hands to signify his gratitude. Jade simply nodded before she ran back to her stuff, surprised to see it had not been stolen by a thief.

The moment she found her phone she called her sister. Her heart was still racing, and then a mix of fear and adrenaline made her legs weak. “Where are you?” Her voice was a whisper, and the moment Eliza replied with: “I’m at the gate c-19. Is that not yours?”

“No,” The girl said, but as the syllables left her mouth so did a sob of fear.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Where are you? I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“I’m at “ Jade choked down another sob. “I’m at gate C-13. I wanna go home,” The girl cried, trying to hide in her hoodie. “Eliza, a man grabbed me.”

“Oh my god,” Eliza gasped. In the background of the call, Jade could hear Eliza’s pace go from a brisk walk to a run. “I see you,” She replied quickly.

Jade looked around before her eyes met Eliza’s. She felt a wave of warmth wash over her. It wasn’t natural, it was Eliza’s power soothing her. The two finally met, and Jade didn’t have time to hang up the call before Eliza’s arms were around her, her body heat matching the temperature of warmth that was soothed Jade meer seconds before. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” Eliza repeated.

After the two calmed down, filed a police report with airport security and Gotham PD, and retrieved Jade’s bags, the two began their car ride to their home. Jade fell asleep in traffic, and Eliza pondered if the man trying to kidnap her sister was an omen to get her sister out of Gotham already.

#K&T2-23 #kittens and titus #robin #dc comics #raven #teen titans #damian wayne #damian wayne x oc #damian wayne x reader #nightwing #red hood #red robin #robin dc comics #batman #batfamily #batfamilyfanfic

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littlespacereader · 8 months

Text

My trip to Walt Disney World’s Epcot as a Regressor!✨🥰🪩 Part Two (SFW)

Here’s the Second part of a thread talking about my day as a Regressor at Epcot! Below I’ll talk about the food, shops and the overall experience!

See thread below!🧵⬇️

Disclaimer- No one in my life knows about my Regression so I couldn’t fully fully regress, you know. Didn’t stop me from slipping a few times. I mean Disney is made for the kid inside of all of us! Perfect place for a Regressor!😄

If you missed the first part click here:)

Let’s talk about some food!😋

Like I state in my previous part, Epcot is broken up into two different sections: The World Celebration and the World Showcase.

When it comes to food options, I have a controversial take…don’t waste your time eating in the World Celebration.

In the world showcase which I talk about below you’ll see that there is a grand variety of food option in each country you visit. So take the time to go to your fav country and eat there instead🙌😋

Food in the World Showcase🥖🥨

This is the place to eat because…well…you literally have all the international food you can think of at your disposal! I had an amazing pastry in Norway to start my day off, then I had the most amazing sushi in Japan, then I ate a Jumbo pretzel in Germany. But the best by far was France!

When I go to Disney I’m more of a snack type of person than a sit down at a restaurant type of person. If you’re like me, then you gotta go to the cafe in the France Pavilion! THE PASTRY ARE OUT OF THIS WORLD! I could literally eat everything there😋

For people like myself with stomach issues or conditions, France is your place to eat! If you’re looking for something plain yet filling get yourself to this cafe l and order yourself a baguette! I wasn’t feeling too well when I went to France at the beginning of the day so I got myself some bread and LET ME TELL YOU IT WAS A LIFE SAVER! After that I started to feel better and ordered myself a dessert! So between getting yourself a baguette in France or a pretzel in Germany, you’ll be safe my stomach issue friends💞

In my opinion Epcot is the best place for food. Whether you’re looking for things on the plainer side or are looking for a wide variety. It’s your place to go to.

Shopping in Epcot🛍️

The beauty of Epcot is shopping in different countries. As someone who’s dream is to travel around the world, Epcot is the place!

I’ve always dreamed of going to Japan just for its cute Sanrio stuff alone. So when I went to Epcot I was hoping the Japan store would be the same…

I was not disappointed!!😆

They had it all!! Everything you could think of Sanrio, they had! Also for my friends who love Anime they had a pretty good selection too! This, in my opinion, was the best store in all of Epcot!

Other shopping options🛍️

Every country has a gift shop full of things that are from that country culture. I love China’s Lucky Cats and the Winnie the Pooh selection in the United Kingdom. So whatever country you go to they’ll always have something from the culture and something Disney that relates with it.

But out of the World Showcase they have great gift shops in the rest of Epcot too! Though these sell more generic Disney Merch. Not that it’s a bad thing! I got myself something from here and the World Showcase!

My gifts from Epcot!😄🙌🧸

Like I said above I REALLY wanted something Sanrio from the Japan store! So this is what I got myself!

I got Chococat! 😄 Being a big cat person myself, Chococat has always been my favorite of the Sanrio characters! He is super soft!! I’m so happy I got him for myself!🥰

Lastly, like I talked about in my first part I am a huge fan of the ride Journey into Imagination. So I got myself a cute plush of the ride’s main character Figment😄

The best thing about him is he sits on your shoulder thanks to a magnet! It’s so cute and I got so many compliments from people saying how cute they thought he was!🥰

Epcot overall🪩✨

Overall I had such an amazing time in Epcot! I learned a lot from the different countries I visited in the world showcase and had a lot of fun on all the ride I managed to go on!

Plus I got to meet a character this time! I met Donald who was just outside of the Grand Fiesta Tour ride!

He was so cute!! He kept pointing to his photo and saying he painted it. I complimented his outfit and he was so happy I liked it! He was so much fun to meet and was a really funny character!😂

I would definitely recommend Epcot to everyone who want to learn something new and have a fun time! Between the food and the rides, it was a really great time for me!

Oh! And don’t forget to watch the firework show at the end! It was beautiful! Plus the Epcot Ball lit up along with the show🤩

Thank you for taking the time to read all of this! If you have any questions about anything Epcot! Comment below!😄🪩✨

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plethoraworldatlas · 5 months

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A Holocaust survivor opposed to Israel's war on Gaza on Wednesday told U.S. student protesters they're on the right side of history, and that the global wave of demonstrations against the slaughter and starvation of Palestinians will soon force Western leaders to face up to their complicity in genocide.

Stephen Kapos, 86, was 7 years old in 1944 when he was separated from his family during the Nazi extermination of Jews in his native Hungary. Most of his family was murdered in the Holocaust but Kapos survived and moved to the United Kingdom after the 1956 Soviet invasion of Hungary.

Kapos is part of a small group of Shoah survivors and their descendants who "demonstrate disagreement with the use of the Holocaust experience as a cover by the Zionists and the state of Israel." They attend protests wearing signs around their necks reading, "This Holocaust Survivor Says Stop the Genocide in Gaza!"

"As a Holocaust survivor, my message to the brave student protesters in America is just keep doing it. Don't give up," Kapos said in a video published by Double Down News. "We are doing exactly the same, and in the long term we are going to prevail."

Kapos' comments came amid a growing wave of pro-Palestine student protests—many of them Jewish-led—on dozens of U.S. university and college campuses in response to Israel's U.S.-backed war on Gaza, which the International Court of Justice in January found "plausibly" genocidal and which many Israeli and international experts say is undoubtedly a genocide.

According to Gazan and international officials, more than 122,000 Palestinians have been killed or maimed during 202 days of near-relentless Israeli attacks. This figure includes around 11,000 people who are missing and presumed dead and buried beneath the rubble of hundreds of thousands of bombed-out buildings. Around 90% of Gaza's 2.3 million people have been forcibly displaced. Starvation and dehydration caused by Israel's bombardment and blockade of Gaza are killing children and other vulnerable people.

Instead of condemning Israeli leaders, the Biden administration has lavished them with billions of dollars in U.S. military aid while providing diplomatic cover for Israeli crimes and blocking recognition of Palestinian statehood at the United Nations.

As the suffering in Gaza continues, U.S. students have set up encampments or staged other forms of protest, some of which have been brutally repressed by police—who have also attacked and arrested journalists and bystanders.

#us politics #palestine #israel #biden administration #joe biden #vote uncommitted #genocide #war crimes #student protest #university protests #college protests #Stephen Kapos

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mariacallous · 8 months

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Last week, as the International Court of Justice (ICJ) issued a provisional ruling in South Africa’s lawsuit against Israel, it sent an authoritative message to the world: Allegations of genocide against Israel are not meritless. Notwithstanding Hamas’s unlawful conduct that started the war last October, the court clearly indicated an overwhelming disapproval of the way that Israel has been fighting the war—stating, notably, that Palestinians face a “real and imminent risk” to their right to be protected from acts of genocide.

Even though the court did not rule on the merits of the genocide allegations, which may take years, it evoked strong reactions from around the globe. While human rights experts and groups welcomed the ruling, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu decried the court’s decision, protesting the court’s willingness to hear the case at all.

In any case, the ICJ decision offers an opportunity for lasting peace that should not be missed. For that, credit must go to South Africa for bringing the case.

Pretoria’s “moral leadership,” as some have called it, has garnered support from many countries throughout the global south. However, other countries such as Germany, the United Kingdom, and the United States have opposed the lawsuit. Not only has Antony Blinken, the U.S. secretary of state, declared South Africa’s case “meritless,” he’s also argued that the case “distracts the world” from efforts to find a lasting solution to the conflict.

While both sides are entitled to their own views, it is wrong to suggest that a case that seeks to stem the bloodbath is an attempt to distract the world from more durable paths to peace at a time when the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is threatening to provoke a wider regional war. Since lasting solutions cannot be found within the chambers of the political organs of the United Nations, including the Security Council, which has become hopelessly dysfunctional, solutions must be sought elsewhere.

Rather than criticize South Africa for daring to launch the lawsuit that asks whether the Genocide Convention has been violated, a more constructive criticism would be to argue that Pretoria limited its case too narrowly with regard to the parties involved and the scope of its litigation—namely, by not initiating proceedings against Hamas and failing to examine crimes other than genocide, such as war crimes and crimes against humanity, which are often committed under the cover of war.

South Africa’s case mainly rests on the principle that international lawyers call obligation erga omnes. According to that doctrine, the obligation to protect human rights and humanity from acts of violence is an obligation owed to the whole world—even if they are not direct victims of said violations. Therefore, any country is entitled to bring legal action to ensure continued protection of the concerned rights , as Gambia, Canada, the Netherlands, and Ukraine have done in the past.

However, South Africa oddly limited the parties to the proceedings by omitting to initiate proceedings against Hamas, which it could have done by including Palestine as a nominal party in the case. This limitation likely results from the argument that Hamas is not a state actor, and therefore its actions cannot be adjudicated at the ICJ. That argument is flawed.

Considering that Hamas is the organization that performs the functions of government in Gaza, a geographic entity forming part of Palestine—which is recognized as a U.N. observer state—it is mistaken to argue that it is not a state actor which could trigger the international responsibility of Palestine. According to the U.N.’s Draft Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts, the conduct of Hamas, as the acting governmental authority in Gaza, is justiciable at the ICJ (just as the conduct of Arizona, a U.S. state, was justiciable at the ICJ in a 2001 case between Germany and the United States).

Another reason for the limitation likely results from the political debate about Palestine as a state. Given that 139 countries have recognized Palestine as a state and the U.N. General Assembly has voted to recognize Palestine as a nonmember observer state, the obstacle to initiating proceedings against Palestine at the ICJ depends on the practices of the ICJ. Indeed, Palestine is listed among the states that may be parties to proceedings before the ICJ. Notably, in 2018, the same year it was admitted as a state party to the ICJ statute, Palestine challenged the U.S. relocation of its embassy to Israel from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem.

All this is to say that it might have been preferable for South Africa to initiate proceedings against Hamas, too. Israel had compellingly argued before the ICJ that any provisional order by the court to halt the fighting would tie Israel’s hands and not Hamas’s. That argument offers a better explanation for why the ICJ’s ruling did not go as far as to order an immediate cease-fire, though it indicated several provisional measures requiring Israel to prevent acts of genocide.

By omitting to include Hamas as a party to ICJ proceedings, South Africa lost the opportunity to actually try to halt the ongoing armed conflict by compelling both sides to stop fighting—given that the Security Council has proved unable to adopt a resolution calling for an immediate humanitarian cease-fire.

South Africa also unduly limited the scope of its litigation by confining it to the question of genocide. World leaders, including U.S. President Joe Biden, who argued that Israel was entitled to defend itself and go after Hamas, have criticized Israel for indiscriminate bombings that have killed innocent civilians in Gaza, including women and children, in unprecedented numbers in recent history.

In its defense, Israel argued that it also found the scale of civilian casualties and destruction in Gaza truly heartbreaking, and that it was doing its best to minimize harm to civilians. This defense was made in spite of the many disturbing utterances of multiple Israeli officials suggesting otherwise, and the critical observations of some Israeli citizens, including soldiers, suggesting a lack of restraint. Still, Israel refused to slow down—insisting at once that it must continue bombing and attacking Gaza until it had eliminated Hamas.

The Convention against Genocide is not the only document that Pretoria could have turned to; it could have also cited the Geneva Conventions of 1949 and their First Additional Protocol of 1977, a set of treaties which in one form or another bind all nations when fighting wars. The 1949 conventions criminalize the willful killing and willful infliction of great suffering on civilian populations as well as the destruction of civilian property beyond military necessity. The 1977 protocol details the principle of proportionality and forbids indiscriminate attacks.

In any war in which there are conflicting accusations and denials about violations of these norms, the legally proper recourse is to pose those questions to the ICJ—just as countries such as the Netherlands and Canada did in their case against Syria about violation of the Convention against Torture.

It is unreasonable and fundamentally counterproductive to criticize judicial proceedings before international courts, especially when parties are seeking to intervene in life-and-death situations that the global political institutions have otherwise been unable to resolve. Indeed, no nation should object to using judicial proceedings as a last resort in seeking to stop a war.

The irony is inescapable. Since 1928, states have agreed to renounce war as an instrument of state policy and to use peaceful means—including adjudication—to resolve differences instead, an idea subsequently enshrined in the U.N. Charter. Today, there is widespread concern that the ongoing war in Gaza could broaden the conflict across the region or beyond. Given that risk, it is startling that any responsible state would support continuing an armed conflict that has killed so many and destroyed so much, when no effort had been made to use peaceful means of settlement—apart from the brief cease-fire and prisoner exchange last November.

Putting the legal merits of these cases aside, there is much value in countries such as Gambia, Canada, the Netherlands, Ukraine, and South Africa bringing these kinds of proceedings to the ICJ. If nothing else, the recent case has forced the international community to confront the problem of armed conflict, even if the only way left to do that is through the international courts. The cases allow judges to cut through all the political noise to answer legal questions.

Additionally, such litigation can help to quell the cacophony of recriminations—allegations, denials, and counter-allegations of genocide, war crimes, apartheid, crimes against humanity, and wars of aggression—that these events invariably generate. These lawsuits thus invite trained experts—specifically, highly-qualified judges from across the world, assisted by the briefs and arguments of able counsel—to deliberate these questions and then declare to the world whether there is merit in the allegations, so that they are not left at the level of defamatory political insults or disingenuous denials.

International courts now seem to be the last hope for humanity in a world where the possibilities of science have been harnessed by states to maximize destruction, while the U.N.’s ability to curb the scourge of war has largely failed.

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