#birmingham weather today

[trulyhblue]

Leah or lessi kid fic after they won the Conti cup!

Lilo’s Sparkle

Mum! Alessia Russo x Child! Reader

Warnings: fluff, mention of injury, very very short.

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You held your head up high, making sure your eyesight was level with the barricade of Alessia’s arms around you.

Your mummy was rocking you, holding you in a small confinement of blankets and an pink sweater. It was cold in Birmingham, but so was every other game your Mummy’s team played at. It was the same at Manchester, and London was no different. The only chance was the people. Auntie Ella only picked you up from your new preschool when she was down South, and you and Mummy would sometimes meet for orange juice at Auntie Ella’s favourite cafe when you were in Manchester.

But today you were in Birmingham, which was a often occurrence. London was your new home. You were accustomed to Manchester, and the weather in England was pretty standard across the country, so there wasn't much to adjust to.

“Do you want to go see Kyra with me, Lilo?”

You looked over at your Aunt Stina. She was perplexed, confronted with mixed emotions. You had teary eyes from the overstimulation, so you just wanted a cuddle.

“Is Stina okay, Mummy? Does she need a hug?”

There was cheering everywhere. Mummy had a very wide grin, and rosy cheeks similar to yours, except you were cold and she was exhausted. The 120-minute frenzy had left you feeling fatigued in your seat on the bench. It was a lot to ask a three-year-old to sit quietly without fuss without the company of her Mummy and her Aunties.

“How bout you ask to see if she wants one, sweets?”

You nodded.

With the comfort of Kyra in the first half, and Leah in the second, you were pretty much well-behaved. But after your favourite Auntie — though Stina Ballerina and Lee Lee never liked you saying that — Frida went down and stretched off the pitch, you instantly grew angsty and agitated. This was only exemplified with Mummy was subbed on in place of.

You ran over to Stina, yanking softly on the woman’s shorts.

“Do you need a cuddle, Auntie Stina?” You asked, fiddling with your zipper as you spoke. Your hood was up upon your Mummy’s discretion, the media attention on you the foremost of her worries.

“Oh, I always need a hug from you, Lilo, älskling.”

“Okay! Thank you!”

Stina knelt down at the feeling your body heat holding onto her calf, swiftly picking you up and cradling you in her grip. Vivi came up behind you, wearing a matching Arsenal jumper, fitting her medal over your neck.

“You scored the winner, Auntie.” You proclaimed, engulfing Stina’s jersey next to your cheek. “You are a superhero Stina. I think your a sparkle.”

Alessia’s giggles were heard not far from where you stood, the thought of you talking about people being a ‘sparkle’ endearing to her.

“Wow, Lilo darling, you think Stina did well?”

“Mummy, of course! She's a sparkle, remember?” You looked between Stina, Vivi, and Mummy. “Mummy and I were calling you a sparkle on the bus after you gave me a cookie, remember? Thank you, Auntie, you really are a star.”

It was considered your thing. To call someone a sparkle was your view of an utmost compliment. You are a star, superior in all ways, and for Stina, she hugged you a little tighter knowing you relished her hard work.

No amount of compliment could outshine a sparkle.

“You are too kind, Lilo,” Stina responded, her blush prominently painting across the bridge of her nose. “Thank you, but you are the biggest sparkle of all.”

You were now pressing your face against the woman’s cheeks, reaching out to play with Mummy’s collar. “Thank you!”

You eventually pushed away from all the celebratory chaos, waddling over to Lee Lee, and Kimmy, knowing they’d provide some serenity to your hyperness.

They were on their way to receiving the trophy, and when you found your way squelched between them, Lee picked you up, placing you inside the trophy with a plonk.

Everyone laughed and cheered as you were lifted into the air, celebrating flambountaly for their sparkle.

Not only as individuals, but as a club.

____________________

alessia

liked by stinablackstenius, fridamaanum, and 876,356 others

alessia — dressed in our sparkle attire 🩷🩷

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Stinablackstenius — my absolute favourite compliment from my Äskling 💕

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[brummiereader]

MASTERLIST

Don't Fear The Reaper (Dark!Tommy/ Part One)

Summary: After what was supposed to be a chilled night in with a friend you end up playing a game that unintentionally summons back the dark presence that had haunted you most of your early adulthood. With no way of avoiding the inevitable reunion you are forced to face the otherworldly being and the unfinished business he is set on fulfilling. That unfinished business, you.

Warnings: Language, angst, supernatural themes, dark romance, mentions of blood, stalking, murder, obsessive behaviour, controlling behaviour, dark!tommy (This is a dark series with heavy potentially triggering undertones, please read the warnings before continuing)

Authors note: This series is inspired by the song "Don't Fear The Reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult, one of my all time favourite tracks.

November 1923...

" Today we gather in sorrow. In remembrance, as we lay Y/N Y/L/N to rest. A beloved granddaughter..." the Reverend said as he glanced up from his sermon to your grandfather, his eyes filled with unspent tears, a man of his time desperately trying to conceal the grief he felt at the vicious loss of his only remaining family member as he clutched his fingers around the single red rose in his weathered hands, scared and calloused from the years of manual labour he had endured. "a friend..." he continued as he looked at the many people gathered around the freshly dug grave, heads cast down, tears staining their reddened cheeks nipped by the cool November air of winter slowly approaching. "...and a blossoming love cruelly snatched away before it's time" he finished as he looked up across the casket to a man dressed all in black, his face concealed by the dark shadow cast by his peak cap, his eyes fixed on the muddied grass below him as a gust of bitter wind blew a scattering of dried leaves past his boots tumbling into the six-foot deep hole before him. His name, Thomas Shelby, the infamous keeper of Birmingham. " Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done..." the priest prayed, raising his hands as all those present began to recite the Lord's prayer in unison whilst Tommy pulled his gold pocket watch out, his brows knitting together at the lengthy time the service had already dragged out. He had things to do...places to be. "And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from, evil" the priest finished casting his gaze down in a moment of silence as Tommy's eyes darted up, met with the glaring stare of his Aunt as she held onto the Black Madonna around her neck. Her tear streaked face was visibly shaken from the anger rapidly coursing through her as her nephew dismissively turned his attention above to a hoard of black crows leaving their nest in a nearby tree, the ear-piercing caw of death parting in search of another poor soul of Small Heath to take to the underworld resonating through the gloomy cemetery. " We therefore commit this body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust..." the priest hummed as he walked around the grave to the man whose path had fatefully collided with your own. Presenting him with a small ceramic pot Tommy lifted a handful of dirt from within the jar, tossing it into the grave as he bent down on one knee, rubbing the remaining soil that had scattered on the grass between his gloved fingers.

" Let's give 'em a show eh?" Tommy whispered as he stood up wiping his forefinger across the bottom of his lower lash as he locked eyes with his cousin. His jaw tightening his teeth clenched, Michael was one breath away from doing something he would undoubtedly regret as Tommy, who was amused with the whole situation, sent him a playful wink, his cousin's angry demeanour clearly not enough to stop him from riling him further up.

" Tommy..." Ada sobbed as she clutched onto her brother's arm wiping her tears away at the tragic event that had brought this day about as every attendee proceeded to bid their final farewell whilst the coffin was slowly lowered into the ground.

" What even was the point?" Ada sniffed as she walked beside Tommy down the gravelled path. "An empty casket Tommy..." She said stopping her brother as she looked back to the workmen shovelling heaps of muddied dirt back into the grave. The finest casket made in Birmingham, Tommy made sure of it. But weightless, empty, a disgrace in Ada's eyes that her beloved friends body had not been found, the only thing left in its expected place a small pool of blood and a dishevelled flat.

" To say goodbye Ada" he said as he rubbed a cigarette across his lips squinting into the distance as he watched the numerous mourners part from the cemetery, the same cemetery he seemed to have frequented more than any other place in his lifetime.

" Shit. I'm sorry" she said turning back to face her brother and the solemn expression he had conjured up settling on his face. "How are you?" she sighed, concerned with her brother's wellbeing and the persistent stoic demeanour he refused to let falter, even in times such as these.

"As expected" he said flatly as he blew a cloud of smoke to the greying sky, rubbing his brow with his thumb.

" You can talk to me Tommy. I know you hadn't been together for long, but..." she said crossing her arms as she bit her bottom lip trying to hold back the tears welling in her eyes. "...you loved her and she loved you, any fool could've seen that" she finished as she looked down at the ground, a tear slipping over her cheek as she dug the end of her shoe into the grass whilst Tommy observed his sisters turmoil in the corner of his eye, something be had yet been able to muster up himself. " Fuck, who invited him?" she spat looking to Michael as he got into one of the many Bentleys lined up at the bottom of the path.

" Polly" Tommy replied taking one last puff of his cigarette before throwing it onto the gravelled path beneath him, stubbing it out with the flat of his boot.

" Well he has no right" Ada said glaring at her cousin as she took a step closer to her brother. "Y/N was scared of him Tommy. She didn't want to worry you but..." Ada sighed as she watched Polly follow her son into the motor vehicle that could undoubtedly feed the whole of Small Heath for the next five years. "She'd convinced herself it was him following her. And she's not alone, me and the girls from the office think it was him too. You need to do something Tommy" Ada added in a hushed voice, despaired that justice hadn't yet been delivered on behalf of her dear friend.

" And I am, alright?" Tommy replied his brows raised in irritation, his sisters relentless questions regarding your presumed untimely demise starting to get on his last nerve, the beloved boyfriend a far cry from the grieving one he had been trying to portray.

" Wait, where are you going?" Ada asked as her brother turned to leave for his car.

" Away" he replied shortly as his sister stepped in front of him, her brows creasing at the sudden patch of blood staining the collar of his freshly laundered white shirt, snagged by the sharp movement of Tommy's head snapping back to her.

" Jesus Tommy, what the fuck happened to you?" she said as she pulled his collar further down, a large cut that had all but been concealed for the entirety of the service suddenly making itself known.

"Must've nicked myself shaving" Tommy said dismissively as he pulled his shirt back up, hissing at the sharp friction of the cloth grazing against the bloodied wound on his neck.

" Nicked? Was you wrangling a wild animal whilst you was shaving?" She scoffed as she folded her arms eyeing up the crimson stain for a second time, the cut resembling more the grooves of human fingernails scratched into flesh than any injury made by the act of male grooming. " Tommy, what...what about the wake?" Ada called out to her brother as he ignored any further remarks on the suspicious gash to his neck making his way down the path.

" I need time to think, alone Ada. In peace" he called back whilst she watched from afar, an exasperated huff leaving her throat before grief overcame her once more and she headed back up to the grave to say her final goodbye in private.

"Fill her up lads, to the top" he said handing a bundle of King George notes to two more gravediggers in passing on the gritted walkway, his black coat blowing open as a gust of wind cut through the cemetery creaking the leafless branches of a weeping ash tree nearby. Lighting a cigarette Tommy looked up to the top of the graveyard, eyeing up the spot he had chosen for your supposed resting place as a devilish smirk formed on his lips, hidden to those nearby by the cloud of smoke pummelling into the crisp Autumn air. Devilish indeed, manipulative, a wicked lie fabricated for those that would never come to learn the truth of what really happened on that fateful night, all but two of course.

Pulling at your restraints you cried out as your wrists scraped along the ropes, the sharp burn of the twine searing your skin as the all too familiar sound of a car driving along the muddied grass haltered your attempts to call for aid. Cowering yourself into the corner of the small vardo you brought your knees up to your chest as the door opened and the sweet smell of tobacco filled the the room.

" Tut, tut" you heard him say as he grabbed your wrists inspecting your pathetic attempts to escape.

The man you had determined to have been following you, stalking you, now inches from you, his breath hot against your cheek as he leant forward gently untying the cloth from around your eyes, slowly pulling it away. He had fooled you into loving him, convinced you he had kept you from harms way, and he was back again to convince you once more into understanding why he did what he had so selflessly done. Albeit with a wicked grin mischievously playing on the corner of his mouth.

"Tommy..."

" Hello darling"

November 2023...

"Fuck, shit...fuck!" You yelled as you pulled your hand from within the file of papers you had decided to spring-clean, a rather late spring-clean of eight months that was. " Fuck..." You resorted one last time just for the thrills of dramatising the injury you had acquired in your attempts to be an orderly person. Said injury, a bloody paper cut. One that seemed to have amassed it's very own heartbeat in the space of a few seconds. Painful, but not the worst injury you had brought upon yourself. The great stubbing of ones toe in the summer of 2022 when you decided on rearranging your whole flat during a existential crisis had yet to be topped. Avoiding the scattering of crap that now adorned your bedroom floor you headed for the bathroom to wrap your bleeding finger in whatever was available. Toilet paper should do the trick you thought to yourself as you grabbed a roll of Andrex Supreme Quilts from your bathroom cupboard, only the finest for your ass. What on earth made you think this was a good idea? You thought to yourself as you looked around your home that had started to ressemble an episode of hoarders when a small box peaking out under a stack of folders caught your eye, its recognisable pattern embellishing the sides of the cardboard making your heart skip a beat. " What the..." You said aloud as a heavy feeling of dread and confusion settled in the pit of your stomach, your eyes wide at seeing the one item that had all but destroyed any attempts you had made to have a normal life. The same item you thought you had thrown out along with all the memories of the years you had spent trying to understand why they chose you, why it was you their voices never left your thoughts in peace. Is that how it all started? Your ability, or as your referred to it, curse. A stupid board game that had single handedly cast you out from not only your childhood friends but your own family. The same family aside from your beloved granddad that had dragged you to every psychiatrist in the county, every priest, every professional that had prescribed you not with help or sympathy but the label of burden, attention seeker. But a child's imaginary friends were not so imaginary. They would seek you out, knowing you were their connection to the living world for years up until your early adult when another deathly presence appeared, one that stayed in the shadows, always watching from afar. He was not like the others, he stayed back, his gaze always hidden by the shadow his peak cap would cast on his face. And unlike the others he scared you, really fucking scared you. Picking the box up you marched into your kitchen throwing it on the table as you reached into a cupboard for a bin bag. You had been rid of him for years and you would be rid of this game too. After all, it was because of him you shut your eyes from the unliving, ignored their whisperings, determined to live a normal life as normally as you could. That was your plan until the doorbell obnoxiously rang five times in a row and your friends voice reverberated through the corridors of your flat building.

" Open up whore, I brought booze! " she giggled loudly as you heard her stumble forward. Bloody hell, was she already drunk?

" Helena.." you smiled as you opened the door to her standing with a bottle of Smirnoff Ice in her hand, hell-bent on recreating her teen years taking shots from the bottle cap. Oh great, she brought friends, you thought to yourself as you rolled your eyes at the two smartly dressed men behind her.

" You are a klutz babe" she lovingly remarked looking down at your makeshift bandage tightly wrapped around your finger with a kiss to your cheek. " Barneby and Hugh" she introduced you to the two men that had already made themselves at home, currently splayed across your sofa as the nauseating smell of their aftershave they had doused themselves in filled the room. You would never comment on the name anyone had been bestowed upon by their dear parents but, my god...had they just walked off the polo pitch? Londoners no doubt, private upper schooling you thought to yourself, your suspicions only confirmed when the tall blonde Hugh stood up from your sofa with his hand out for you to shake his accent quickly making itself known.

" Hugh. We work for Goldman Sachs in London, took a detour to take in the local..." he cleared his throat as he looked back at his friend with a smirk. Idiot. What an opening line, was he about to present you with his business card? "...sights of Birmingham on our way up north when one of our associates introduced us to the lovely Helena" he said sitting down on the arm of your sofa as he eyes roamed over your body. Detour... What did he think Small Heath was? The local petting zoo to gawk at, the same way he was gawking at you? Yes there was your average oddball here and there and the man that walked around town shoeless, regardless as to whether it was pissing it down or scorching hot outside. But it was your town, and you wouldn't have any jumped up city boy put it down.

" Hmm, how is the big smoke?" you quipped back as the perfectly groomed man with a suspiciously tinted beard grin widened.

" She's feisty Hughey, just how you like them" his friend laughed as his grin settled into a cocky smirk. Hughey...give me strength.

" Helena, I thought we was just gonna watch a movie get some takeou.."

" What the heck! No no, you're not throwing that out!" She screeched as she bolted up from the armchair to the Ouija board you had intended to bin. She was unusually chaotic than her normal bubbly self. The Smirnoff had clearly already been tasted, enjoyed and partly consumed, you thought to yourself as you eyed up the bottle missing a good chunk of it's contents. " I've always wanted to have a go with one of these. Why didn't you say you had this naughty game in your possession?" she asked clutching it to her chest.

" I prefer strip poker but this could be a laugh " the other Londoner remarked with a chuckle as he stood up taking the box from your friend. Could you will your curse to him, you thought to yourself as your eyes narrowed in on the game in his hand. They were getting increasingly annoying. Could they just, fuck off?

" How about it Y/N?" Your friend smiled with joy at the idea of exploring the supernatural side of life.

" I, I don't think it's a good idea" you said as you snatched the box away from the man who had started rootling through it, feeling overly protective over something you intended to discard of, a sudden longing to be comforted by your childhood companions, your only companions. Would they come back if you let them? Or had too much time passed since you had shut your eyes to the spirit world, since you had pushed them out of your life?

" Don't be a spoil sport Y/N" the blonde said prying the board from your bear like grip as you began to feel as if someone was taking a part of what made you uniquely you away from your whole being.

" We can't do it here, it's not the right setting" your friend said looking around your place wanting a full immersion into whatever overly exaggerated scene she wanted to recreate from one of the many movies or shows she had watched " Ooh let's go to that passing by the riverside. You know, the one from all the story's about the dark mysterious figure that resides down there as smoke blows from the old wagons chimney" she said grinning from ear to ear recounting the story every resident of Small Heath had heard since childhood.

" Helena, that's private property" you said as she began to drag you with her to the front door, grabbing your jacket on the way out as she linked arms with you.

" It's just a bit of fun, please? " she pleaded as she waited for a response. A bit of fun, you could list a whole page of other activities that sounded funner. The first being getting take out and drinking yourself to sleep, the original plan for tonight. Could you risk delving back into the otherworldly land you had cut off? Had your ability vanished for good? What if they reappeared, what if he appeared the one you had been painstakingly avoiding for near a decade. It had been so long, surely he was gone, right?

"Fine" your reluctant response slipped out not wanting to be the that person as you headed out the door when just like any generic horror movie your friend was desperately trying to duplicate an uneasy feeling suddenly settled in your stomach. You had become the very character you would scream at your TV screen, violently throwing popcorn in its direction to not be a cliché and go into the creepy woods with a Ouija board, one slightly pissed friend and two idiot tag alongs. But yet here you was, about to ignore every fiber of your being telling your to turn back.

" Hello Mr magpie how's your wife and kids" you whispered quietly to yourself watching the black and white bird perched on a large log that had undoubtedly fallen during the storm that had come through last week as you clutched the thinnest jacket your friend could have possibly picked out for you around your body. Fashion over functionality, that was Helena's Moto you thought to yourself feeling your fingers go numb from the cool air of the bitter Autumn night. One for joy, two for a boy, how many was it for death...no fuck, that wasn't it. You mentally hummed to yourself as you looked around for a second magpie having forgotten the silly superstition your grandad had always recited to you in the presence of the blue tailed bird.

" Can warm you up if you like?" Hugh laughed putting his arm around you which you automatically shrugged off. " You're as frigid as this weather" he joked as you stormed ahead of you with an irritated huff, catching up with your friend who was a few feet ahead of you as your eyes darted around the open area surrounded by numerous large oak trees, the soft sound of the riverbank gently colliding with the muddied ground pricking your ears. As peaceful as it looked in the silver moonlight casting array of shadows onto the dewy grass you didn't want to be here, something felt...off. You was sure you had never once entered this area In your whole existence but yet, something felt eerily similar about it. What you wouldn't do to be in front of the comforting fire of your late granddads home, watching him nod off in front of the TV with a bowl of striped humbugs in his lap, his dentures floating in a glass of water beside him...not the most poetic image you could've conjured up as your anxiety started to make itself presence, but it was home, and it was where your heart was. Your thoughts had become so tangled, since he passed, uncomfortably intrusive. You felt lonely, so lonely in a world surrounded by people that life had become one long draining experience day in day out. You was desperate for relief from the crushing weight of the cards you had been dealt in life.

"Ooh perfect" your friend said snapping you out of your thoughts as she walked up to an old wooden picnic table in the middle of the passing, the worn emerald green vardo that had fallen apart like the rest of the upkeep of the area feet from you, silently stuck in times from before. " Right come on then, tell us how it works"

" Guys I don't think this is a good..." You started to say when Brian, Barney, Barneby, whatever his name was rudely interrupted you.

"You know what I think sweetie, I think you're scared" he laughed as he went to sit down, his nose turning up at the rotten wood he was about to place his Tom Ford three-piece suit that's trousers looked two sizes too small. If he was trying to accentuate what he was packing he needn't bother.

" You can sit next to me if you like" Hugh winked as you purposely made a point to sit across from him, covering your exposed cleavage with your jacket from his pervy leering eyes. The quicker you got this over with this the quicker you could distance yourself from these two imbeciles, you thought to yourself as you pulled the box In front of you, your hands tracing over the pieces of your childhood. The game in itself was pretty simple you each placed two fingers on the triangular shaped piece of wood and proceeded to ask questions. That was it, what happened after was open for debate.

"We call upon the spirit world and welcome those into the circle who wish to speak with us" you said aloud, your mouth suddenly going dry at the passage you never thought you'd hear leave your lips as the tall blonde seated in front of you scoffed at the words you could only image he thought were nothing more than absurd ramblings of wishful thinking.

" It's not doing anything" your friend remarked, now fully submerged in the game she wholeheartedly believed was more than something teens would play in abandoned buildings late at night, desperate for her own supernatural experience.

" It can take some tim..." You started to say as the planchette started moving, both idiots opposite you nudging eachother under the table as your friends eyes stayed fixed on the moving piece of wood, your own attention startled by the arrival of a dozen people slowly approaching through the wooded area, their deafening whispers muffling out your friends voice. Your eyes darted between Helena and the two men she had brought along with her, willing them to see what you could see as the small crowd of people closed in surrounding the table as they called out the names of their family. Mother's, sister, brothers, fathers, grandparents, begging you to pass message after message onward to their loved ones. "Stop..please..." you said quietly, closing your eyes as you pressed your hand to your forehead. There was too many of them, it was happening too fast. You wanted it to stop to just stop, just fucking stop...

" Enough!" A loud deep voice boomed through the crisp night air as the dead retreated back and the form of a man leaning against a tree dressed all in black came into your view, a cloud of smoke pummeling above his head, his eyes cast down at the ground as he rolled his cigarette between his fingers. It was him, he was back. " Leave" he commanded to the others as he slowly strode towards you.

They couldn't see him, why couldn't they see him? He was standing right there, right fucking next to you. You thought to yourself as your chest heaved up and down from the sheer panic rapidly coursing through you, your breaths coming in ragged shallow ripples as his black tailored coat grazed along your arm sending a burning shiver down your spine. A dumb game, a stupid dumb game. Why did you agree to this? You had unknowingly invited him back, summoned him after all the years you had painstakingly tried to keep his presence at bay, you panicked as you looked in the corner of your eye to see him rubbing his thumb over his forefinger, enticing you to look up, taunting you to meet the piercing glare you was certain you'd be met with if you dared to look his way. But yet you stayed motionless, frozen as your eyes slowly settled on your hand resting over the intricately detailed planchette as your friend beside you giggled at its erratic movements on the board below it, which either one or both of the idiots she had brought along with her were undoubtedly doing.

" Alright I've had enough, which one of you wankers is moving it?" Your friend Helena demanded to know as you looked across to the prick that had been hounding you since the moment he laid eyes on you, a faint smirk playing on the corner of his mouth when a leather gloved hand crept across the table placing itself over yours, slowly lacing it's fingers between your own. Your whole body trembling, you desperately tried to pull your hand away when the sinister figure standing beside you grip tightened, keeping your from escaping his inevitable presence as the wooden triangle started to move.

" Y/N…" Your friend said looking to you as the planchette stopped, your name having been spelt letter by letter in a gentle dance of toing and froing that swept across the board until all those present eyes widened not only in fear but confusion. If they weren't moving it, who was? Releasing his hand from yours he reached up, brushing away a lone tear resting on the top of your reddened cheek that had settled in the midst of the spine-chilling ordeal. "Babe, what's wrong?" your friend asked, your frightened, shaken demeanor concerning her enough to pull her hand from the game as she placed her arm around your shoulders in attempts to comfort you when you felt the very figure you had been evading for near a decade rest his thumb gently on the end of your chin, the sound of his leather gloves creasing sending a nauseating chill throughout your body as he turned your head to face him. And there he was. The man, the presence you thought you'd never see again, his face masked by the shadow of his peaked cap now visible to your eye, his ghostly pale skin brightened by his piercing blue eyes boring Into you as a smile formed on the edge of his lips…

" Hello darling. I've been waiting for you" he said as your bottom lip began to wobble, a cascade of tears now streaming down your cheeks wetting the leather gloved thumb still resting on your chin as he tenderly gazed into your eyes. " Shhh" he hushed your frightened sobs as his hand moved to your cheek cupping his fingers gently around the side of your neck.

" What's with her?" the man opposite your friend said as your gaze stayed fixed on the presence before you, watching the irritation build on his face at the the tender moment he had played through his mind countless times spoiled by he annoying chattering of the man accompanying you.

" You're shaking gorgeous. Offer's still there hm? Can warm you up in that broken down gypsy thing" Hugh snickered along with his friend as Helena glared at him, an array of insults leaving her lips. " We'd be better off naked though, we'll warm up quicker that way" he laughed obnoxiously when the presence before you head snapped in his direction, the blue hue of eyes quickly replaced by a sinister black as he threw the table over in front of you in one quick deliberate motion. With his hand clenched into a fist he turned to the man who had not only embarrassed you but insulted you shamelessly In front of everyone with the suggestion you were as crude as him, landing a brutally violent single punch to his face.

" What...what the fuck! What was that?" His friend stuttered leaping from the bench as he looked down at his dazed friend, blood dripping from an open gash on his bottom lip as Helena screamed in horror at what had just happened, her brain simultaneously trying to compute how it had happened. " We're getting the hell out of here" he said lifting his friend from the ground that was holding his lip together as the being beside you rested his hand firmly on your shoulder, squeezing his fingers into your flesh in a clear message to not dare move.

" Babe...Y/N we gotta go" your friend cried trying to pull you from the bench as you stayed seated and the dark presences grip on you tightened.

" Leave Helena " you cried not wishing harm to come to anyone else. He wanted you, he had haunted you for all those years. Your friend and the two men accompanying you were a mere inconvenience. And after what had just transpired, you feared what he could and would do next.

" What! No come on..!" She pleaded shaking you from what she thought was a state of shock when the man she had invited let go of his bloodied friend and started pulling her away from you. " Y/N!" she cried, the distant sound of her fighting with him as he dragged her out of the gated area slowly disappearing as you was ultimately left in silence, alone, with him.

" Please...let me go" you wept as you turned your head to face him.

" Let you go? I've only just got you back sweetheart" he said as he released his hand from your shoulder, his fingers now brushing through the locks of hair framing your face. " You invited me back love, and that was one invitation I could not refuse" he said as you stood up taking a step back when he reached out and grabbed your wrist." Now now Y/N, we have unfinished business" he said pulling you back to him, his pale ivory face inches from you, lips drained of blood tauntingly close.

" I came in peace, with no intentions to offend. I say goodbye and bid you farewell" you recited the words you had learnt by heart after any encounter you once had speaking with those from the other realm.

" Oh sweetheart, now who taught you that little rhyme eh? I'm afraid it doesn't work like that love" he chuckled cocking a brow at the idea that your silly little riddle would cause him to simply vanish before you. " My girl" he said as his thumb dragged down to the corner of your mouth, tracing the curve of your trembling lips, staring at you like a lover would gaze at their partner.

"I, I don't know you, I'm not who you're looking for" you sobbed as you looked down at your hands, clutching them together from the drop in temperature his presence demanded.

" Oh but you do know me darling. You know me very well" he said as his lips parted and his eyes drifted down to the soft flesh of your neck, down to the curves your blouse beneath your jacket hugged your body. " I've waited a century for this very moment, for us to finally be reunited. And believe me sweetheart, my patience is starting to wear thin, very thin" Is that what this was...He thought you were his dead lover, a reincarnation of her that he had been waiting a hundred years for, an anomaly where everything that makes something uniquely individual to them, their genes their likes their dislikes repeating itself into a second copy days, years, thousands of decades later, you thought to yourself as your eyes widened at the realisation of what he had been waiting for, what he had been watching you for as you turned to make a swift exit.

" I can't let you leave Y/N" he said as the large metal gate to the opening slammed shut making you abruptly stop in your tracks.

" I want to go home. I'm not her, I don't belong here..." You cried in a panic, turning back to face him as he strode forward to you his with his hand out, calmly waiting for you to take it.

" Then let me show you" he replied intertwining his fingers with yours as he gently cupped your cheek with his other hand, the welcoming chill from his leather gloved hand soothing the heat radiating from your reddened tear stained cheek. "Let me show you who you were, who you were in 1923..."

NEXT PART

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[fandom-chic]

Please Please Please: Chapter 8

Summary: Y/N is only a child when she and Tommy Shelby meet. The two quickly become best friends as they grow up in Small Heath. As the years go by, Y/N and Tommy realize there may be more to their friendship than they originally thought.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N

Previous chapter

A/N: This chapter is a bit heavy so WARNING for SA, violence and pregnancy loss.

Her eyes fluttered open as sun beams began to peak through the curtains. The rays touched her face like a warm caress, warming her up. She gazed at the ceiling above her before rolling over in the tiny twin bed to see her love, her fiancé, her Tommy.

His bare chest rose and fell as his head rested on their shared pillow. He looked peaceful. She knew those moments were becoming more far and few between for Tommy. She knew she should let him sleep in, let the sun wake him when it was his time, but she wanted him to herself. She wanted their morning together to last as long as possible. She let her body cascade over his front, her forehead resting against his. A low hum escaped from somewhere in the back of his throat as his arm lazily fell over her waist, pulling her closer. 

“Good morning, love,” he grumbled, sleep still in his voice.

“Good morning,” she replied, her leg wrapping around his abdomen. There was a strain in her thigh as her leg settled on Tommy. She twitched slightly at the pinched nerve. She heard Tommy chuckle to himself.

“Not the most comfortable sleep,” he said, opening his eyes to gaze at her. She lets out a sigh and smiles to herself.

“As long as you’re beside me, I could happily sleep on a rock,” His grip on her waist tightened at her words.

“I promise,” he began to whisper, “Once you’re my wife, we will sleep in the most luxurious bed in Birmingham. You’ll never have to worry about a sore back again.” His words melted her heart and soul. She couldn’t help but place her hand on his cheek, letting the stubble tickle the pads of her fingers. His hand reached up to hers, cradling it. Y/N didn’t think this moment could make her feel anymore at peace until his lips graced hers. Even after hours of sleep, his lips were still soft and inviting against hers. She hummed into the kiss, letting a smile rise to her lips.

“This must be what heaven feels like,” she whispered into the kiss. She leaned in for more, but Tommy pulled away slightly.

“Heaven would be this, but I’m inside of you,” her cheeks flushed at his words. Even after all these months together, he still makes her feel flustered. 

“You’re a real cheeky bastard, Thomas Shelby,” she purred. His grin was full of sparkles as he pulled her into him, a rush of electricity pulsing through their lips throughout their bodies. She was ready to give herself to him and maybe again, but instead he rolled out of the bed.

“Let me get my beautiful fiancé a cup of tea,” he said, pulling on a loose pair of pants. She rolled onto her side to face him, pulling the sheet above her breast like a strapless dress.

“Fiancé,” she breathed. The word felt like sugar on her tongue. “I’ll never get sick of that.” Tommy approaches the side of his bed, leaning down to Y/N.

“Neither will I,” he planted a kiss on her cheek before heading out the bedroom door. After the door shut, Y/N sat up in bed, finally able to stretch out slightly. She let the bed sheet fall to her hips as a yawn escaped her lips. Her arm rested lazily on top of her head as she leaned over to Tommy’s bedside table, turning the radio on. She turned the dial before the static turned into a man’s voice. She expected the usual reports: something was stolen, the weather is gray, and the politicians are corrupt. She was almost correct today. Almost.

“Following last month’s assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, Austria-Hungary has officially declared war on Serbia.” She was awake now. 

“More news is to come, but reports have come out declaring that Germany has sided with Austria-Hungary. Now we wait to see how England moves forward.” Her mind phased over as the report turned into white noise in her mind. War. The continent was going to war. Over what? Some archduke she had never heard of? Fucking preposterous. That was when she felt Tommy enter the room. His hands bore two piping hot cups of tea, and his face a warm smile. Once his eyes fell upon her, the smile faded.

“What’s wrong?” he inquired. Y/N knew she couldn’t hide her worry from him. That was when the report began to play again. Tommy’s attention moved quickly, putting the cups on his side table before turning the volume up on the radio. His focus was entirely on the small device dictating their future to them. A deep sigh escapes him before he turns to Y/N.

“Austria-Hungary, Serbia and Germany are far from here. They will fight it out, and it will all be done in a few days,” he sar down beside her, his hand going to her back to lovingly rub it, coaxing the anxious look off her face, “Do not worry about that. There are bigger things to worry about.” She looked over at Tommy, her eyebrows furrowed.

“What could be bigger than war?” That was when a smirk dusted his lips.

“Choosing a venue for our wedding.” She couldn’t help the snort that escaped as a smile finally came back to her face. 

“Oh shit, I completely forgot about that,” She leapt off the bed, throwing her clothes on herself. “We’re touring that church today in,” Her eyes shoot over to the clock to reveal the less than early time of 10:00 AM, “45 minutes! We’re going to be late.” She began jumping into her stockings as Tommy rose from the bed, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Y/N,” she paused her actions, looking up at Tommy, “I think it’ll be ok.” A puzzled expression rose on her face.

“But we’re going to be late, Tom.” She motioned at the clock on the wall.

“I don’t think so, love,” His hands went to her cheeks as he moved her gaze to meet his, “Fuck some old, drafty church. Let’s get married somewhere that matters to us.” 

She raised an eyebrow, “Where would that be?”

“Our lake.” As soon as he said those words, she knew he was right. It was the place where they spent every summer. It was the place she denied she loved him, even though deep down knew she always had. It was the place he almost told her so many times that she was the one. She let out a light sight before putting her hands on his.

“I can’t think of a more perfect place to begin the rest of my life with you.” Tommy leaned down, kissing her forehead. 

“Let’s drink some tea, take it easy and head to the lake this afternoon, ok?” She nodded as his lips left her forehead. He picked up the cup of tea and handed it to his fiance, giving her a smile as he did so. It would all be ok, she thought as she brought her cup to her lips, taking a sip. The liquid burned the top of her mouth, but the presence of her lover made the pain miniscule. They would see their wedding venue today, and everything would be good. Better than good, perfect. It wasn’t long into their tea when Y/N heard a yell up the stairs.

“Oy, Tommy, we have an emergency!” Y/N could recognize Arthur’s voice anywhere. “The Shaws on the east side want to speak with you now.” Tommy let out a sigh and kissed Y/N’s cheek. 

“It will be quick, I promise,” he whispered into her ear. She let her head fall into the crook of his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, darling. I can meet you there.” She felt his hand run through her tresses, calming her. 

“It shouldn’t take too long, no more than an hour.” She nodded as Tommy rose and went out the bedroom door, but not before shooting her a small smile. Her heart would never stop fluttering at that look. 

She was over at their lake within thirty minutes, no time at all. The first sight that caught her eye was the way the midday sun hit the water. It looked like a path leading to the heavens. She could imagine herself standing in front of it with her Tommy, professing their love for their family and promising themselves to each other forever. She tied her horse to a tree and walked over to where that spot would be. Y/N stood in the place she imagined she would be making her vows to Tommy. She held her hands out, imagining Tommy’s larger ones holding hers, probably giving them a squeeze when a happy tear fell down her cheek. She imagined them running back down the aisle and into the family car to be taken off who knows where.

She could also imagine taking their kids here and showing them where their parents promised forever to one another. Y/N let herself sit on the soft grass, letting the thoughts of family warm her. She couldn’t wait for the day Tommy held their first child and showed them all the love he could. Y/N knew whatever happened, Tommy would love that child with all his heart and soul. She let out a soft sigh as she let her thoughts pass through her. It wasn’t until the sun began to fall in the sky that she noticed Tommy was late. She took a peek at her watch and noticed hours had passed.

“The meeting must’ve run very long,” she thought, standing from the grass. That was when she heard a rustle. It was a small noise, almost like the sound of a shoe breaking a stick. But it was recognizable. Her head whipped to where the noise came from, but no one was there. Her shoulders unstiffened as she began to make her way back to her horse. That was when she hears another sound followed by the unmistakable timbre of a male voice. Her pace quicked to a jog as she went to her horse. That was when she noticed two men emerge from the woods. They were men she had never seen before. One was tall with a menacing look in his eye while the other was smaller and trailing behind his leader.

Y/N broke into a sprint, but the two men were quicker. She felt the smaller one grab her, holding her around her waist and pulling her arms around her back. She tried to let out a scream, but a rag was shoved in her mouth. That was when she heard a chuckle from the taller man.

“Well, well, we heard Tommy’s bird was beautiful, but that was truly an understatement.” She felt his hand trace along her jaw. He smelled like sweat. “I wonder what a sweet young girl like you is doing with a man like that.” His words were coated in a sickly sugary tone that made her spine shiver. She wanted to pull back, but that would mean leaning into the other man.

“She must be the priciest whore in Birmingham,” said the smaller one, pulling her arms even tighter behind her. A small squeak escaped her lips as the pain twinged in her shoulders. 

“Maybe we should see if she’s worth her price.” His mouth was close to hers. His breath reeked of old fish. Y/N couldn’t help but flinch away. That was when she felt a fist make contact with her cheek.

“Don’t fucking move away from me, whore.” His words were venom. The tears were falling down her face. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop them. She could feel whimpers of fear escaping her mouth. She couldn’t stop them. 

“What was that, love?” His voice was all condescension as he pulled the rag down from her mouth. 

“W-why are you doing this?” She stuttered. This elicited a laugh from the taller man.

“Well, your Tommy has some debts that he owes the Shaws that he simply chooses not to pay back. And we do not work for free. It seems that we have to take our own payment.” Her eyes widened, and that was when her mind went blank. She would never remember whatever happened to her in that next hour. She didn’t want to remember. It wasn’t until she woke up in a hospital bed did she realize her nightmare was over. 

Her eyes moved around the room, taking in her environment. That was when she saw him, Tommy. Her Tommy. The light of her life was dim, sitting on the edge of her bed. She shifted slightly, trying to readjust, but pain shot through her body. She let out a small whine as Tommy’s eyes shot to her.

“Nurse! She’s awake.” He screamed before coming to her side. His hands fell on both cheeks, “I thought I lost you.” The words came out as a hoarse whisper before he pulled her in. He tried his best to be gentle, but she couldn’t help the slight groan that escaped her lips as he brushed against her cuts and bruises. 

“What happened?” She asked, knowing she didn’t want to know the answer. He pulled away, running a hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ear.

He let out a sigh, “The business with Shaw’s gang? That was all a ruse. The whole point was to get revenge on me for a business deal gone bad.” That was when his eyes wandered away from hers, looking at the space beyond her shoulders. “They knew what mattered the most to me and decided that was the way to get payback. We didn’t realize what was happening until it was almost too late.” His words stopped, and he paused before continuing, “I got there when he had a gun in his hand, pointed right at you. I killed him, Y/N. I killed both of them. They’re dead. They can’t hurt you again.” That was when the tears began spilling from her eyes again. They wouldn’t stop. She buried her head in Tommy’s shoulder, letting her tears soak his jacket. Tommy’s arm moved around her waist, pulling her in.

“There is one more thing, too,” She looked up at Tommy, wiping her hand across her eyes.

“What, Tommy?” He let out a deep breath before running a hand through his hair.

“You were pregnant, but,” His words were caught in his throat but became free, “the baby’s gone.” Her limbs went cold at that, numb to everything.

“Y-you mean… we were going to have a baby?” The words came out as a whisper. Tommy nodded. There was silence between the two of them before Y/N crawled into his lap. She didn’t want to be anywhere else but sobbing in his arms. Right now, it was what she needed. He knew that too, letting a hand run down her back trying anyway to soothe his love. The tears ran for hours before she tired herself out. She didn’t realize she was dozing until the world began to darken, and Y/N swore she heard words she knew had to be from a dream.

“If it weren’t for me, you would be safe.” It had to be a dream. Tommy would never say that. She thought this before the world went dark. 

When she woke, she was alone. And she was alone for many days after that. It wasn’t until Polly came that she knew Tommy meant the words he said. 

She came bearing a comforting smile and a bouquet. Y/N’s body was finally beginning to heal, but her mind was still shattered. 

“Polly, where’s Tommy?” Y/N didn’t even attempt the pleasantries. This woman had seen her grow up. There was no need. 

Polly sat herself in the chair beside Y/N’s bed, staring at her toes as she tried to find the proper words. When she did, she looked up at Y/N, ready to break her world in half.

“Shaw’s body was found in The Cut. The police knew it was Tommy, and they told him he had a choice: prison or join the war effort-”

“War effort? Since when has there been a war effort?” Polly let out a sigh. 

“A lot has happened since you’ve been here, love.” Y/N ran a hand through her hair.

“What did he choose, Pol?” But she already knew the answer. 

Next Chapter

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[iloved1lfs]

FIRST ENCOUNTER

PAIRING: thomas shelby x reader

SUMMARY: Takes place in season 1 of peaky blinders, you are grace’s sister. She was hiding something from you, so you followed her to where she works, the garrison. When you run into someone Grace has been hiding you from.

WARNINGS: age-gap (reader early 20s), no smut.

A/N: It’s a fluff nothing much is going on, but I think I am going to turn this into a series, comment and let me know what you think. If I should or not.

SONG: West Coast by Lana Del Rey

In a blink of an eye everything changed, you along with your sister Grace lived in Galway for awhile. Until one day your sister put news upon you that you’ll be moving to Birmingham for some time. You left everything behind, your friends, your things, the memories. You both were starting anew, you never recieved an answer as to why you had to leave your hometown. Grace would avoid the answer to that question many times, she was always leaving the house her job, which she never talked about. Grace overall seemed extremely overprotective especially since moving to Birmingham, she would always bring up these so called “peaky blinders” what a funny name. She would tell you to do what you got to do and come straight back home not getting distracted by anything else, or don’t go out at all. Which scared you, you needed answers. A conversation wasn’t going to get you the answers you need so you had to take matters into your own hands.

You were reading a book as you sat there on the couch, Grace was gathering her purse, curious to where she was going. “Where you going?”

“Work.” She replied keeping it short, you nodded your head.

“Grace,” She looked at you. “Where do you work exactly?” She paused her movements and hesitated to answer that question.

“The Garrison.” The Garrison. You asked what that was. “It’s a really good job I help doing finances for important people, an office job.” She gave you a smile, and you returned the gesture. She came up to you placing a kiss on your forehead and hugging you.

“Stay home I won’t be out too long okay.” You nodded your head and she opens the door, but stops to turn to you. “Don’t open the door for anyone alright?” You nodded quickly shooing her away and she smiles, while shutting the door behind her, leaving you alone.

You quickly drop your book beside you on the couch, running towards the window, opening the curtain slightly. Seeing where Grace was going you waited until she was no where in sight, today was the day you’ll find out what she is hiding or at least find out where she works.

You wore a collared white shirt, with a blue skirt and a black sweater, and putting on your shoes. You stepped outside the house, the gloomy chilly weather hitting you as you stepped outside. You made your way down the steps, and made your way to where you saw Grace heading.

You got lost after a few minutes of wandering around, you had to ask someone for help. You look around and see this man with his back facing you.

“Excuse me sir?” He turned to look at you as he smoked his cigarette. “I was hoping you can tell me where the Garrison is?”

He started laughing, you were confused at his reaction. “What is a pretty lady you going to the Garrison for?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern,” You grew impatient, just wanting to know where the place was. “Now please can you tell me the Garrison is at before I grab that cigarette of yours and burn it against your skin.”

He puts his hands up in surrender and huffing out smoke. “You go down that street there,” he points as you look at his gestures, as he continues to give you directions.

You thank him and make your way to the Garrison. The more you kept walking you felt more out of place, there was men everywhere that were looking at you like your candy. You saw a group of men come out of a building all drunk, laughing and causing chaos. You look up from the building they came out of and in big written letters it said ‘THE GARRISON’.

You took a deep breath and made your way through the big brown doors of the Garrison. Upon walking in there were loud chatting, many men sitting down at tables drinking their hearts away. This didn’t look like an office job that Grace mentioned. There was a sea of people in the place, smelled like alcohol everywhere making you scrunch your nose. You look around and see a glimpse of blonde hair, with a red sweater, you took a few steps closer and stop in your tracks.

It was Grace, serving drinks to a couple of men who looked that if they drank anymore they would pass out. She hadn’t seen you yet since she had her back turned towards you, you clear your throat. “This doesn’t look like an office job Grace?”

She quickly turned towards the direction of your voice, and her eyes widened upon seeing you.

She excused herself from the men, and made her way towards you. She reached you looking infruriated that you didn’t listen to her. “What are you doing here?”

“Grace you’re a bloody barmaid? YOU LIED.” You said loudly, she shushed you quick pulling you away from the middle of the pub, trying to not get the attention of the men, and bringing you near the far end of the bar counter. “Are you going to explain why you lied?”

“Please, Y/n go home and I promise I will explain everything to you.” She put her hand on her temples, stressing out.

“No Grace,” You shake your head and she is shocked. “I am done being kept in the bloody dark. This clearly doesn’t look like a fucking financing job or an office doesn’t it?”

“Y/n you can’t be here there’s dangerous people here,” You scoff.

“Please Grace I’m not falling for your stupid warnings, you clearly just want me to leave.” She grabs your arm tightly and you try to pry her hand off your arm.

“Leave now.” She said sternly, trying to take you out the pub, but you kept fighting against her tries.

“No I’m not leaving until you tell me everything.” You were both causing a scene that everyone around you were now looking at you. Screaming at you two to fight.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?” Everyone stopped their cheering and screaming. Grace stopped and sighed, while closing her eyes. “You need to leave now Y/n.” she whispers at you, you shake your head.

“Fuck,” She said under her breath displeasingly. You were confused at her reaction.

The sound of footsteps got closer towards your direction, and you look behind you. You saw a man who looked a few years older than you, dressed up in a nice black suit, and a newspaper boy hat. He had light blue piercing eyes, and the most intimidating stare ever, his presence seemed powerful, but overall he was quite handsome. He looked at you up and down no emotion on his face, then looked at Grace.

“Who are you?” Before you had the chance, Grace stepped beside you and he looked at her.

“My sister, she was visiting me today.” You scoff at the lie she came up with, he glanced at you at your sudden reaction.

He turns around towards everyone who was surrounding you three. “Everyone go back to what you were doing. Nothing to see here.” Everyone does as they are told, and he turns his attention back to you two standing before him.

Grace grabs your arm pulling you beside her, you shake off your arm away from her. “I hope it’s not a problem, Mr. Shelby.” He stayed silent looking at us, and shook his head.

“Just don’t cause any more ruckus in my pub Grace, it’s quite simple.” She nods her head and you scoff in disbelief. The fact that he was setting orders to your sister, you couldn’t stay quiet.

“We weren’t causing a ruckus, your people are just nosy sir.” You challenged him. Grace looked at you with wide eyes and shushed you. He looked at you amused that you dared to speak back to him.

“Excuse her, Tommy." He took out a cigarette from his pocket, and placed it on his lips. He took out his lighter from his back pocket, then lit up the cigarette, and inhaled the smoke, all while looking at you. Usually if someone talked back to him, and challenged him he would put a bullet between their head, but he found you amusing instead.

He was intimidating, his stare is intimidating it felt like you were staring not his soul, but at the same time he looked quite attractive while doing so.

Grace got called over to serve some people. “Stay here don’t leave when my shift is done we’ll go home.” You looked at her as she left, leaving you alone with Tommy.

You looked at him as he observed you, he was curious about you. His stare was so intense that you had to look else where.

“I’m Tommy Shelby,” He said and you glance at him.

“I figured,” He chuckled softly, tapping off the ashes on the bar counter with his finger.

“You’ve got quite a mouth eh?” You’ve always been more opinionated than Grace, she was more of taking everyone’s shit. However, you were the complete opposite you weren’t going to take everyone’s shit and stay silent.

“Is that a problem?”

He smoked before answering. "No woman has ever spoken to me the way you do."

"Well I'm not most women Mr. Shelby." All he did was stare at you with an amusing smile. The way his name rolled off your tongue did unexplainable things to him, he was interested in you.

"I'm guessing you haven't heard then eh?" You look at him confused at his response, before he can even manage to get a word out, Grace cuts into the conversation, with her purse on her right shoulder.

"Tommy can I get off earlier, so I can take her home, I don't want her waiting for me late at night here." Tommy stares at you and purses his lips, then nods upon Grace's request.

She thanks him and Grace grabs your arm gently leading you away, not giving him enough time to say bye to you. You both make it out of the Garrison, making your way home in deafening silence.

After minutes of walking you both made it home, and before you can go to your room, Grace speaks to you. "Why did you go against what I said?" She said calmly which was quite intimidating, and you pulled your hand away sitting on the living room couch.

"You want the truth or a made up lie dear sister?" You sarcastically smile at her, and she sighed in annoyance.

"This isn't a game Y/n." She kept her cool.

"Well then, I wanted to know the whole truth as to why I have to be locked up here as a prisoner everyday, I didn't come with you to Birmingham out of the blue just to be a fucking prisoner," She opened her mouth to speak, but you cut her off. "I wanted to see where you worked and clearly that financial job you said was a fucking lie, so, instead of lying some more tell me the fucking truth I want to know everything. Why can't I be roaming the streets like a normal person or hang out with my friends?" She stayed silent and took a seat beside you.

"I can't tell you everything, but trust me everything is in control," You rolled your eyes. "All I can tell you is that I was trying to protect you from the peaky blinders." You furrow your brows in confusion.

"The man you met, Tommy," You nodded your head. "He is part of the peaky blinders, him along with his family and a couple other people they are apart of this gang, he's the leader of the gang."

"They are dangerous people they aren't as nice as they seem, HE isn't as nice as he seems, they kill people. I was protecting you from encountering them, but now you've caught HIS attention." Your mouth has gone dry and you regretted going out today, you felt guilty for not listening to her.

"I understand that you want to protect me, but I can't be a prisoner here," She looked down at her fingers. "I won't go to the Garrison no more, but I want to be able to go out to the cinema with my friends."

she stayed silent looking at you, you sat there pleading with your face. "Fine." You smiled and gave her a huge hug, as she hugged you back slightly laughing. "Don't back on your word then."

"I promise I won't."

However, that little encounter wouldn't be the last, it was just the beginning.

Originally this was going to be a fluff one shot, but I think I'm turning it into a sequel, what do you all think? Also I just finished school so I'll be able to write the ideas, I've been having recently. Next thing I'll be publishing is this Diego lainez x reader x Sebastian Cordova one shot! Stay tuned.

[cleolinda]

Short answer: They’re not sure; storm survey teams are going out to assess damage in Chilton County and then the weather service will “officially rule if it was caused by tornadoes or straight-line winds.”

The fact that we don’t even know, after a forecast of golf ball-sized hail and 80 mph winds and free trips to Oz, is fantastic. Any morning-after that doesn’t make national news is a good thing.

The 2011 Tuscaloosa-Birmingham tornado is lurking in the subtext of all this. Any time I post about storms, I’m thinking about that, and about the fact that the two houses directly behind us got nailed by trees last December. The house to the left has been seemingly abandoned, still unrepaired.

We’re fine. Yard, trees, container garden look good. I honestly don’t even know what happened. I get storm headaches like a goddamn human barometer—I’m more accurate than weather apps at times—and I honestly didn’t have one yesterday afternoon, so I knew the storm wasn’t going to be as bad as we’d feared.

I saw someone mention silent migraines on here the other day, and I didn’t understand what that meant until I had one last night. I can’t really explain it, it was just—I didn’t have headache pain per se, but everything else felt Bad and Wrong. I was dizzy, irritable, sensitive to light, couldn’t think straight, hellaciously drowsy—I ended up falling asleep with the weather channel on and phone alerts set to loud. I slept like a rock and woke up at 2:11 am, around the time the tornado watch was supposed to end. So normally I sit listening to whatever alarming noises on the roof directly over my head, or watch the sky turn alarming colors through my window. This time, I have no idea.

None of this is particularly enthralling, but I went on about storm prep at such length yesterday that I figured I’d update. That said, I do have that “headache hangover” feeling, so something definitely passed by.

[wonderlanddreamer]

[1919] The cobbled streets of Birmingham.

The story of how Lydia (and Arthur) convinced Tommy to let her keep a Great Dane who followed her home.

[Part of The Lydia Saga]

The overcast sky hung low over Birmingham, casting a muted grey hue over the bustling streets of Small Heath. Lydia Shelby was undeterred by the threat of rain. With her inquisitive eyes sparkling with the promise of adventure, and her dark hair neatly braided, she embodied both the innocence of childhood and the daring spirit that ran through her family's veins. Her mischievous grin widened with each step as she navigated the cobblestone alleys, her small boots delighting in the splash and splatter of puddles underfoot.

Despite her tender age, Lydia possessed an insatiable curiosity that often led her far beyond the watchful gaze of her family. Today, she was on a mission, driven by stories of hidden treasures and secret places whispered among the neighbourhood children. The alleys of Small Heath, with their mix of bustling market stalls and shadowy corners, seemed to Lydia a labyrinth of possibilities—each turn promising new discoveries and excitement.

As she made her way deeper into the heart of the district, the familiar sounds of the city faded, replaced by the distant clatter of train tracks and the occasional bark of a stray dog. As Lydia wandered deeper into the maze of alleyways, the sounds of the bustling city gradually gave way to a quieter, almost secretive atmosphere. The air was filled with the faint scent of coal smoke and damp earth, creating an aura of mystery that only fueled her adventurous spirit. Her ears perked up at a peculiar rustling sound emanating from behind a stack of weathered wooden crates, their surfaces worn smooth by years of use.

Curiosity surged through her, and Lydia tiptoed cautiously towards the source of the noise, her small heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Each step felt deliberate and momentous, as if she were stepping into the pages of a grand adventure tale. As she peered around the edge of the crates, her eyes widened in astonishment at the sight before her.

Looming large in the dim light was a Great Dane, its presence both majestic and gentle. Its coat was a striking shade of grey, with speckles of rusty brown adorning its ears and paws, creating a mosaic of colours that seemed almost painted by hand. The dog's eyes, large and soulful, met Lydia's with an expression that exuded both wisdom and warmth, as if it had been waiting for her all along.

"Hello, big fella," Lydia whispered, her voice an enchanting blend of awe and delight. The Great Dane, as if sensing a kindred spirit in the small girl, wagged its tail with an enthusiasm that belied its enormous size. The gentle thud of its tail against the crates echoed softly, a rhythmic accompaniment to Lydia's giggle.

Encouraged by the dog's response, Lydia reached out with a tentative hand, her fingers brushing against its velvety head. The dog obligingly lowered its great head to her level, inviting her touch with a grace that seemed almost regal. "You look like a Rusty," she decided aloud, giggling as the newly christened Rusty bestowed a slobbery kiss upon her cheek.

As Lydia turned to continue her journey through the winding streets, she noticed Rusty trailing a few paces behind her, his long legs moving with a cautious curiosity. With each step she took, Rusty followed, his presence a comforting shadow that lingered just out of reach. The two of them formed an unlikely pair, the little girl leading the way while her newfound companion watched over her.

Gradually, as if testing the waters of friendship, Rusty began to close the gap between them. His lolloping gait grew more confident, matching Lydia's pace until he was walking beside her, his tail swishing back and forth like a metronome. By the time Lydia reached the familiar confines of Watery Lane, Rusty was trotting faithfully at her side.

As Lydia approached the Shelby home, a familiar mix of excitement and apprehension danced in her chest. She adored her brothers, but she knew them well enough to understand that surprises were not always welcome—especially those with four legs and a wagging tail! Tommy, in particular, was a man who valued order and control, traits not easily reconciled with the spontaneous arrival of a massive canine.

Standing on the doorstep, Tommy Shelby cut a formidable figure, the sharp angles of his tailored suit accentuating his commanding presence. A cigarette hung idly from his lips, a thin wisp of smoke curling into the afternoon air. His keen eyes, ever watchful, narrowed as they settled on the unlikely duo approaching. A flicker of concern creased his brow as he took in the sight of the enormous dog padding alongside his little sister.

"Lydia," he called out, his voice carrying a note of both authority and underlying worry. "Who have you got there?"

Lydia, undaunted by her brother's stern demeanour, beamed up at him with her most radiant smile. "This is Rusty, Tommy. He followed me home!"

Tommy exhaled slowly, a plume of smoke escaping his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest. His mind raced with questions and potential complications. "Lydia, you can’t just bring a stray dog home. What if he’s dangerous? What if he belongs to someone else?"

Lydia paused for a moment, her eyes twinkling with mischief and a hint of the Shelby cunning. "Well, Tommy, you’re always saying to find strong allies, right? Look at Rusty! He’s bigger than Danny Whizz-bang and probably scarier too."

A corner of Tommy’s mouth twitched, betraying a suppressed smile. Lydia had a knack for disarming him with her innocence and clever reasoning.

"And besides," Lydia continued, her cheeky grin widening, "if Rusty belonged to someone else, wouldn’t I have seen someone looking for him by now? He’s not exactly easy to lose."

Tommy raised an eyebrow, momentarily caught off guard by her logic and the spark of Shelby wit she exhibited. He glanced at Rusty, who sat obediently beside Lydia, his eloquent eyes watching the exchange with quiet intelligence. "You make a fair point, little one," Tommy conceded, his tone softening, though he maintained his authoritative air. "But he’ll be a lot of responsibility."

Lydia, sensing that she was slowly winning Tommy over, pressed her advantage with the tact and charm of a seasoned negotiator. "You know, Tommy, I bet Rusty’d be great at keeping the house safe. Imagine having a giant dog like him guarding the front door!"

From the window, Arthur Shelby had been observing the scene with amusement. His broad grin was unmistakable as he pushed open the door and sauntered outside, his presence as boisterous and rugged as ever. "Oh, come on, Tommy," Arthur chimed in with a hearty laugh. "Look at the size of him! He’s practically a walking billboard for ‘Don’t Mess with the Shelbys.’ Who wouldn’t think twice seeing him on the doorstep?"

Tommy sighed, casting a sideways glance at Arthur, whose infectious laughter and mischievous twinkle in his eye made it hard to maintain a stern facade. Tommy ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of exasperation that masked his growing fondness for the idea. He shifted his gaze from Arthur’s grinning face to Lydia’s hopeful eyes, her pleading expression charming him more than he wanted to admit.

"Fine," Tommy relented, rolling his eyes but unable to completely stifle a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. "But he’s your responsibility, Lydia. You feed him, you clean up after him, and you make sure he doesn’t chew on my shoes."

Lydia squealed with joy, her face lighting up with pure delight as she threw her arms around Rusty's massive neck. The Great Dane, sensing his acceptance into the fold, wagged his tail with joyful enthusiasm.

Arthur clapped Tommy on the shoulder, his laughter still bubbling over. "See, brother? Even the toughest bookies in Birmingham need a soft spot somewhere."

Tommy shook his head, a rare warmth in his eyes as he watched Lydia with her new companion. "Just keep him out of the betting shop, Arthur. Last thing we need is Rusty collecting debts."

[mchlgayser]

hii can you please make more jobe ffs (when you can) i love them 🫶🏽🫶🏽

𓂃⭑ᜊ: ART GALLERY ft jobe bellingham

𓂃⭑ᜊ an: I LOVE writing Jobe's fanfic ngl, I realized my writings are neater everytime I'm writing for him skhsksj somethings wrong with me

𓂃⭑ᜊ content warning: none

𓂃⭑ᜊ: @iwritesjud3's masterlist

'I want you guys to be on your best behavior today... Andrew this indicates especially for you.' Miss. Coffee said in her promising stern voice, Andrew was half-listening, mostly talking to you and you elbowed the right on his stomach making him wince in pain 'Yes Miss.' The bus stopped abruptly as the students lined up to exit the bus. You and your closest friend, Andrew are at the very back, taking your best moment procrastinating as you take out your Canon brand camera alongside with your sling messenger bag stuffing it with your iPad, a book, notebook and your pencil case.

The bag and camera sling over to your shoulder, Andrew was watching you occasionally looking back to the front to catch a stare or Miss. Coffee 'Hurry up!' She said and you both scurried away.

Since today's weather is somewhat, colder you are thankful enough for your generous mother that reminds you to take a thick jacket before going out. Right now you are wearing your school's uniform, a thick and soft fleece baseball jacket, a scarf wrapping over your neck, stocking pants, leg warmers and to match it all, a high-cut black converse. You didn't bother to tie your hair, letting it loose since it somehow helps you to reduce cold on your neck and ears.

You hop out of the bus with Andrew and join your other schoolmate's lining ups at the main entrance of the gallery, 'I have to remind you all again, our school is not the only school on a trip today, that includes Birmingham's Academy. So once again, please behave yourself and stay as quiet as possible. For that, you can enjoy the rest of the day to yourselves.' The main entrance open and one by one of us started to flood the hall.

Your eyes were attached to the drawing and paintings that are hanging on the walls, some placed on the table and put in a casket, there are writings below, the origins, the painters, the drawers, and the story behind the art and you adore it all! You are taking pictures of the art sometimes with Andrew in it, posing for the camera.

One of the picture is Andrew doing a silly face, you are laughing at him 'You are so quirky!' You commented making him snort back at your quick remark. You and Andrew are having your best time adorning the arts that you failed to noticed you had caught an attention from a certain pupil from the Birmingham's Academy!

Jobe went inside a bit late because he was talking over with his trainer. His loyal friends who promised to wait from him had somehow left him to go to God knows where. He was looking around for any signs of his friends but find them nowhere. Instead, his eyes caught with something, perhaps, someone.

He could notice the girl from far over, she is with a person around her age, probably her friend, they were laughing while she take pictures of the boy. Jobe could not clearly see her but he could catch a glimpse of her smile and laugh, it was unclear due to the loud atmosphere inside the hall but he could still sense the tint of honey-like and her contagious laughter.

Her eyes are twinkling when she blinked, it was like the whole universe is on hold within her stares, Jobe noticed she had stopped laughing, her friend are whispering something over to her, and looked behind immediately making contact with him. It was as if his world stopped. Her whole focuses are now on him and he was stoned and nervous.

The pressure melted away the seconds the girl offered him a gentle smile and quickly averted her attention elsewhere. Jobe could feel his heart throbbing inside him. It was loud and clear he could feel it about to explode out of its cage. The smile she sent his way was the kind of smile he could never forget, even if he wanted to, the smile he yearns for more.

It was nearing the end of the trip, you are on your way out to take a breather at the gallery's front garden, Andrew has separated from you to join his classmates in playing games. You sat on the bench grabbing your camera to take pictures. The trees, the fountain, the pigeons from any sort of angle. You stop to check and a certain picture caught your engagement. It was one of your pictures you took of a pigeon resting on a tree, you saw the same guy from before Andrew accused of staring at you.

He is behind the tree, almost like he was hiding. You avert your attention back to the tree and slowly walk there. You could almost sense a presence behind the tree and you peeked your head 'Huh?' The boy startled, almost stumbling to the ground if you hadn't caught him 'You should be careful.' You let out and smile at him, you weren't very sure if it was something that you said or done but his face turned red, he was hiding the smile that plastered on his face by turning his head around 'Are you alright? You face.' You did a motion to your face and look at him 'Yes, it's the cold!' You nod 'What are you doing behind this tree anyway? Are you hiding?' He shakes his head 'No I was just... Watching you...! But not in a creepy way! I just thought that you are very beautiful especially your eyes!' You were baffled, having a hard time containing your laugh 'Do you want to laugh?' And you did, he was cute explaining it 'Sorry, I didn't mean to!'

He wasn't offended by your honest remark or feeling belittle instead he was feeling giddy, somehow because he was able to talk to you.

[dandelionprints]

In The Rain⛈ - Tommy Shelby Headcannon

Just a little headcannon I’ve thrown together! It contains fluff and mentions of smut but no actual smut, I hope you enjoy!

⛈ dark grey clouds fill the skies, threatening to spill out the heavens

⛈ the sound of water dripping from drain pipes echos around you from the houses along the street

⛈ Tommy walks beside you, a cigarette between two fingers and his other hand holding yours

⛈ children play in the puddles created by last nights storm

⛈ the shriek of their laughter bounced off the walls

⛈ “looks like no riding today, eh?” He turns to look at you, a questioning look on his face

⛈ “I think not, looks like we’ll have to find something else to do”, you frown

⛈ “oh, I think I could find some other kind of riding for you to do”, a coy smirk appears on his lips, a quick wink added in

⛈ you blush - which is ridiculous! You’ve been together for years yet this man still has the ability to make you weak at the knees

⛈ he hands you a cigarette, lights it between your lips and you take a pull on it

⛈ the wind has started to pick up, making the breeze around you cold and bitter

⛈ he takes off his coat, wrapping it around your shoulders, the thick material giving you instant warmth

⛈ throwing his cigarette onto the ground, a sizzle can be heard as it lands in a puddle, burning it out

⛈ Tommy wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into him as you continue walking

⛈ you feel a drop of rain hit your cheek and flinch at the touch of the water

⛈ “shit, my hairs going to get ruined”, you mutter, wiping away the rain from your cheek and throwing away your nearly spent cigarette

⛈ “c’mere”

⛈ he takes the coat from your shoulders and gives you one end of it before taking the other

⛈ he lifts it in the air, enough to cover both of your heads

⛈ “who says you need an umbrella, eh?”, he chuckles, leaning over to give you a quick kiss on the lips

⛈ the rain begins to pour down onto the streets of Birmingham, bouncing off the cobbles along the ground

⛈ the sound of it hitting Tommy’s coat above your head fills the space around you

⛈ again, he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer, this time encouraging you to walk a bit faster

⛈ the unmistakable sound of thunder roars around you followed by a flash of lightning filling the sky

⛈ “c’mon, we’re nearly at Pol’s”, he says, removing his hand from your waist and instead grabbing hold of your free hand, pulling you behind him slightly down the street

⛈ “Tommy I can’t run that fast!”, you shout as you struggle to keep up with his pace, the coat above your heads nearly slipping from your fingers.

⛈ he laughs as he continues to pull you along, the childhood memories of you running riot as kids in all weathers floods your mind

⛈ you lose your grip on his coat and shriek as the cold water hits you

⛈ “Oh fuck, I’m soaked!”

⛈ Tommy comes to a stop and turns to look at you

⛈ you stand in place, feeling the cold seeping through your clothes

⛈ “I think you’re a bit wet there, love”, he chuckles, that toothy grin you can’t resist appearing on his lips

⛈ you throw him a comical defeated look in response

⛈ he drops his coat down to his side letting the downpour cover him until he too has water dripping off every inch of him

⛈ “looks like we’ll both have to get dry and find a way to warm up now”, he hints, the grin now turning into a smirk

⛈ your smile spreads slowly until you find yourself grinning

⛈ Tommy walks towards you and stops directly in front of you, dropping his coat to the ground and reaches his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks

⛈ “I think a nice cup of tea ought to do it”, he jokes, wanting to get a reaction out of you

⛈ you roll your eyes

⛈ “I mean if all you want is tea then that’s fine, I thought you might like to see the undergarments I had delivered to your aunts house in discreet packaging this morning, but I guess not”, you shrug figuring two can play at that game

⛈ you begin to walk off, his hands once again dropping to his sides

⛈ “hey!”, he turns to grab you by the wrist and spins you so that you’re facing him again.

⛈ his hands return to your cheeks

⛈ “I think I’d much prefer seeing what you had delivered, especially if you show me what they look like on”

⛈ “hmm, I suppose if you’re lucky then I might be tempted to try them on, but tea…” you begin

⛈ he cuts you off with a finger to your lips

⛈ “tea can fucking wait, I’ve got an image in my head of you now that won’t go away, I need to see it physically, standing in my bedroom”

⛈ he leans closer and brings his head towards yours

⛈ the rain is still crashing onto the cobbles around you, bouncing off the stones

⛈ your lips meet, soft and gentle

⛈ he tries to speed up the pace, hungry for the taste of you

⛈ you pull away and disappointment spreads across his face

⛈ you smirk, “as you wish, Thomas Shelby”

————

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @peakypoet @moral-terpitude @lyarr24 @cillmequick @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @alasya16 @tommystargirl @elenavampire21 @adaydreamaway08 @bluesongbird @zablife @cljordan-imperium @look-at-the-soul @rangerelik

[bouncydragon]

warm winter

I wrote something again! It is soft and fluffy. It was inspired by this amazing fanart by @whentommymetalfie. I hope you like it!

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy x Alfie

Word count: 1447

Summary: On a very snowy day, Alfie and Tommy enjoy some soft time together.

Warnings: None, it's just some sweet domestic fluff.

AO3

It was one of those rare afternoons that were just so very calm and completely devoid of any responsibilities. Alfie liked those days under normal circumstances already but today was special because Tommy—the lovely bastard—was in London for the whole weekend, and they’d get to spend it together, able to just be them and be close without fear of judgement and persecution. That was also a very rare thing, a very nice thing but unfortunately rare. At least in the sense that they didn’t have business to deal with. Any chance they got to be themselves, they cherished and enjoyed to the fullest.

Although the circumstance that led to their much desired time together this weekend was not ideal. Far from it and Alfie hoped it would not be repeated in the future.

It hadn’t actually been the plan that Tommy would be here this weekend. Alfie hadn’t even known that he was coming to London. Apparently, Tommy had come to drop off a Christmas present for his nephew and then decided to visit Alfie—after all, he was already in London, so he might as well. Alfie was somewhat convinced that the story about the nephew’s present was just a cover for his family back in Birmingham—the only one who knew of them at this point was Tommy’s sister Ada—just to give them a reason why exactly he was going to London on Christmas Eve, especially since there had been warnings of heavy snowfall on the radio.

Said snowfall was also the reason why Tommy was staying the whole weekend now because it had been strongly discouraged to drive in this weather—not that either of them was complaining, mind you, it was rather convenient. A very welcome change indeed and Alfie was not ashamed about hoping that Tommy’s stay would somehow be extended beyond the weekend.

But Alfie did not like that Tommy had walked to his house in the snow and freezing cold. He had been uncontrollable shivering when he had arrived, standing on Alfie’s doorstop covered in snow, dangerously looking like he was about to become a snowman. The snowflakes in his dark hair—Tommy had forgotten his cap at his sister’s place—had reminded Alfie of stars in the night sky, which was unfortunate because although Tommy still looked very, very pretty, he also looked utterly and completely miserable, which was not a good look on him to be honest; looked like a kicked puppy, that was also freezing its tail off.

So Alfie had quickly pulled Tommy inside and got him out of his clothes, something he really loved doing but not in this context. Tommy had been shivering so much that he had been unable to talk, he had just kept holding on to Alfie as the man had helped him undress. Alfie cursed his stubborn lover for choosing good-looking clothes over practical ones. A suit simply was not the right choice of clothing in the middle of winter. Sure, he had a coat but evidently that hadn’t helped much after a certain point.

Alfie had given Tommy something warm to wear and then started a fire in the fireplace in his living room—the general heating could be unreliable sometimes, and a fire was cosier anyway. He had made some camomile tea in the kitchen while Tommy had gotten comfortable on the sofa in front of the fireplace.

It was quite the sight he walked in on when he brought the tea to the living room.

Tommy was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, a blanket loosely wrapped around his shoulders and clad in one of Alfie’s knitted jumpers—it was a very nice shade of blue, which brought out Tommy’s eyes nicely—and some comfy trousers. The jumper was a size or two too big for Tommy and his hands disappeared in the sleeves. Cyril was curled up next to him. All in all, Tommy looked cosy and very soft—and Alfie might have just fallen a little bit more in love with him.

Alfie sat down next to him and immediately Tommy rested his head on his shoulder. Alfie smiled, rubbing his back. “Better?”

Tommy just simply nodded and Alfie was starting to worry because Tommy still hadn’t said a single word since turning up at his door. He hoped he wouldn’t get sick. Alfie got the impression that Tommy was difficult and a right fucking arse when sick. As much as he loved him, and even though he’d still take care of him of course, he was not entirely sure if he’d have the patience to deal with Tommy when he had a cold, or worse. But there was not much he could do about it right now, just wait and see.

He gave Tommy a cup of tea and watched as he took it gingerly, trying not to spill anything as his hands were still trembling slightly. Tommy just held the cup in his hands for a while, letting it warm his frozen hands. Eventually he relaxed and took a sip, followed by a content and pleased hum—Tommy was quite particular about his tea and it had taken Alfie ages to get it right.

Alfie smiled. “Now?”

Tommy just nodded again and just focused on enjoying his tea. Alfie decided to continue the book he had been reading when Tommy had rung the bell. Tommy was leaning into him, just drinking one cup of camomile tea after another until the pitcher was empty.

Alfie shook his head amused. “You need to go easy on the camomile. You’re gonna get crazy.”

Tommy flashed him a tiny smile but it got interrupted by a big yawn, which he unsuccessfully tried to hide.

“How about a nap?” Alfie suggested, tenderly carding his fingers through Tommy’s soft, tousled hair. He received another short nod as answer and then Tommy gently made Alfie lie down so he could positively flop on top of him.

Alfie chuckled and waited until Tommy had gotten comfortable—which was an actual lengthy process that included using his chest as pillow (something he always did anyway), hugging him as best as the position allowed and snuggling into him with an effort that Alfie only knew from Cyril, to be honest. Seriously, this process took a lot longer than one might imagine because somehow Tommy made a science out of it. Once Tommy was finally comfortable—Alfie could tell by the way he melted into the warmth of his body—Alfie pulled the blanket over him, all the way up to his chin, and wrapped his arms around him.

Cyril lifted his head and looked at Alfie, tilting his head to the side in question. Alfie put a finger to his lips. “Shh. Nap time, boy,” he whispered. Cyril yawned and curled back into a ball by their feet. Alfie smiled and decided to give his eyes a little rest as well.

When he opened them again, a quick glance to the clock on the mantle of the fireplace told him that it was a couple of hours later. Thankfully the fire was still going, if weakly, and the room was comfortably warm. Tommy was still asleep and practically wrapped around Alfie, his face smooshed into his chest. Alfie smiled and played with his hair while watching the snow fall outside. It was getting dark and the snowfall had calmed down a little at least but it did not look like it would actually stop anytime soon.

Some tiny movement made Alfie pay attention to his now slowly awakening partner. Tommy made a soft sound, a sleepy hum, and opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times. He yawned, burying his face in Alfie’s chest to hide it again.

“Hello there, treacle. Did you sleep well?” Alfie greeted him softly, brushing away some locks of hair from his forehead.

“Mhmmm.” At least that was more than a nod, finally. Sometimes Tommy’s silent nature infuriated Alfie. “You’re very comfy. Soft and warm. Good pillow,” he added drowsily.

Alfie chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“I always do.” Tommy raised his head a little so he could look at Alfie. He smiled softly. “I love you.”

Alfie smiled back, kissing his forehead tenderly. “I love you too.”

Tommy hummed and just snuggled into Alfie again, nuzzling his neck, and quickly fell asleep again. Alfie sighed smiling. As long as Tommy was comfortable, he didn’t mind. At latest, he’d have to wake Tommy when the fire went out, so he could rekindle it. That was still a little while away, so Alfie just held Tommy and closed his eyes again too.

[sadattemptofawriter]

Dual nature ( Thomas Shelby x female! OC)

Chapter 3 - be a man

She, now referred to as he, did finally managed to fix the broken hoof. It was grueling work as most things are in Birmingham and she got herself injured a few times in the proses but she got the job done and that was all that mattered. It did not matter that the horse, ‘crown jewel’ they called him, stomped her foot twice and bit her trice. It absolutely did not mater that she burned her hand while working with the white hot iron of the horse shoe either. The only thing that does matter is that Thomas Shelby, the peaky devil, was pleased with her job and she now had a proper employment with them.

A job. She smiled to herself as she pulled her hair tight under her dark gray cap. A real job. Honest work, respectable work, with good pay to boot. It was more than she thought she would ever get. She was putting her skills to use and it did not involve sitting in a dimply lit room with stupid yarns and needles nor did it involve her spreading her legs.

Looking herself in the small mirror of her room she noted that, Mr. Strong was right. she did look like a scrawny boy. Her beautiful feminine curves now hidden behind tight bindings that give the illusion of firm pecks and loose purposefully ill-fitting clothes to push the ruse of the youngest boy from a working-class family wearing his older brother’s hand-me-downs. For the first time, she was thankful to the soot and dirt of Birmingham, that seemingly has covered every pore and crack of her being. Because thanks to them, her face was perpetually covered in dirt and smoke, soot and cinder simply from walking past the factories. Her girly face, covered and hidden. Her rosy cheeks, turned gray, flickers turned to black spots, lips turned dark from grime. No trace of a soft young woman.

Good. She tells herself as she picks up her pace on her way to Charlie’s yard. Remember, Minerva is no more. You are Byron. And you’ll do anything to establish yourself as such.

“Good morning, Charlie. Good morning, Curly.” She says upon seeing the two men just biggening to start up their day as well. She grinned. No mater how earlier she tried to get up, those two always beat her to it.

“Morning boy. I see you’re up earlier than even before.” Charlie says with a nod. His face may be still a cold, distant ghost but those blue eyes had warmed up to her. She reconned it was something most elder men had, a general fondness for the youth. Weather girl or boy, the elderly, seemed to care for them all. Was it that they saw us as their children? Grandchildren? Or perhaps it’s our vigor and stubbornness – stupidness – that reminds them of their younger selves. Was Charlie Strong seeing a son? Or a distant memory of himself?

Who knows.

I think even I’ll never know.

I doubt even he knows.

“what’s on the agenda today?” she asked.

“Tommy is arranged to buy a new horse. Yes, he has. We have to fix up a place for him next to Monageng boy. Nice and spacious for him to stay in. yes that’s right.” Curly went on as he led the way with tools in hand.

“Yes sir.” I said as I followed hot on his tail with my own tools in hand.

That’s how most of the day was spend. With me and Mr. Curly in the stables. After taking care of every single other horse, cleaning them, brushing their hair, cleaning their hoofs and so on. It was peaceful work. Hard work but peaceful, meditative if you will. It almost was as if my soul would leave my body. After that, we did exactly as Curly had said. We began to rebuild a section of the stables that was previously used as storage into a fine section for a horse that was coming soon.

“Well, this is as much as we ae going to finish today.” Charlie said as he came into the stables. His face sweaty and slightly grimy. The started his day always looking impeccable – as impeccable as working-class gypsies in factories can get – and by the time it was lunch time he was a walking ball of sweat and mud. Still much better than me, who has tripped on horse shir trice now.

“Noon already?” I ask as I lay aside the shovel, try to walk towards Charlie Strong and the door way out and proceed to trip on a pile hey on the ground and fall.

Charlie almost mediately laughs. Not the loud full belly laughs of Arthur, nor the mischievous mocking snorts of John, both of which I was hearing as I see their looming figures emerge behind Charlie’s. Charlie’s own laugh though is more like a scoff, as if he refuses to give me the satisfaction that I made him express anything.

“How is it that whenever I find you, you are either on yer ass or on yer face? Eh?” says Arthur.

“Hello Charlie.” John smiles. Seemingly the only man here who knows manners. Some manners. “Taking a nap Byron?”

“No!” I grumble as a I get up. “This is the fourth time. I keep falling… I think on this exact spot every time. Be honest with me, did you pull one of those gypsy curses on me? one that would make me fall? Or better yet, one that makes me embarrass myself?” this I say jokingly to John, between all the Shelby boys that I have met, he is the one most extreme with his emotions. This makes him very trigger happy, razor happy, punching happy but also a genuine jokester when he wants to be. If I read the room and the air around him well, I’ll be able to get away with a few jokes here and there. Given that Tommy Shelby does not hand me the death card.

“Nah. That’s all on yer own shit luck, little man.” He laughs as he chews his toothpick. “Come on, you been working awfully a lot lately with tommy hellbent backwards over his horse,” john points to the stallion in question who had his big heavy head in a bucket drinking. “why don’t you come with us to the Garrison and have a drink with us eh?”

It was said all-in good-natured humor, with a devilish smile and an arguably boyish dimple. But those eyes. Those eyes that were cold like ice, like cold dead frozen frost on a dead stags’ antlers. Not just frightening but also a telltale of death and all that comes with it. he would not accept no for an answer. There was never an option of no with these boys, these men. And their humors and smiles and laughs always masked it, but never concealed it.

“Of course. Let me clean up a bit then. Yes?” I try.

“No need mate. Here.” Arthur grabs a wet rag, one that I had been using to clean the horses and put a little shine on them, and proceeds to forcefully shive my face in it. momentarily panic aside I realized he is jokingly wiping my face. With a sinky, wet rag. For horses. “There you go. Now let’s go.”

I laugh it off as well. Men and their jokes. For some reason girls and later women never do such practical jokes on another. Or at least the equivalent of. With men, you push them, punch them, swear at them, say rude things about their sisters and after good minute of brawling they are best pals and all is well in heaven. But if you do this to a woman? God forbid, you nudge them in jest.

We walk out of the yard and I watch the people part a way for them – not me, them – like Moses and the Nile. Ever since I began my work for the Shelby’s that day I have been seeing this sight every time they walk and I never get used to it. women turn away not necessarily in fear, not at least the same fear they have when faced with a lecherous drunk, kids hide but peak curiously from their little hidey holes and if he is in a good mood, John would wink at them or boo them. Scare them off to their mothers. But the men, they had a reaction more visceral than anything I had seen.

The wild, rowdy, rude disgustingly vulgar men who would piss and spit on the shoe of any random person their didn’t like, these very same men would part ways, stand on the side of the walls like children when the school headmaster walks past them. They would look down and only down and their shoes as if they are the most fascinating thing in the world. They would take their hats off and bow their heads. “Hello Misters Shelby.” They would say. “Evening misters Shelby.” – “have a good day misters Shelby.” – “it’s on the house misters Shelby.”

How truly fascinating.

Is this what being a powerful man like? I think to myself often. Because I have seen men without power. And I have seen women in power. But nothing is quite like this. When a woman is in power, I think from what I’ve seen from being with my mother, there are two types of men usually.

The first, are the men who hate it. or resent it. they have some problem with a woman in power. Either they envy her, resent their own position, they want to take their woman in the kitchen or something. They ridicule the women, talk shit behind their back. Call them mean bitches, nasty shrews or moody cunts. The term moody mare was used so many times. This specific type of men, even when in a position lower, would still act like annoying little know-it-alls. We dealt with them plenty of times during the war. When dad and the boys were away and we were trying our best to keep the training business afloat. They were simple workers. New higher. And they still acted as if I – the girl who learned to ride long before I learned to walk – didn’t know the difference between a stallion and a filly. Their vulgar jokes about horses and my mother…

I’m sure no one would dare to behave like this around Tommy Shelby. Even if he is a Gypsy man of the working class.

The second type, were arguably better than the first if you feign ignorance to the look in their eyes. There were men who suck up to my mother. Pretending they respect a woman in her station. It’s fine, right until you see their gaze. Their crazed, hungry look like a feral stallion presented with the fillies of the royal family. Disgusting. Their fantasies and their needs that clouded their judgment.

Mother once said, when dealing with such man, that regardless if you are down on your knees or up on a pedestal, whether you are a queen of virtue or a loose whore, weather you are a mother or a daughter, weather you are aware of their eyes and smile to their gaze or ignorant and innocent to all their wolfish fangs, whether you are as nude as eve or as covered as holy marry herself, whether you are a friend, an enemy, a colleague or a stranger on the train. It is all the same for them. The is no escaping from the desires of men and what brews within their minds. We cannot control that. It was all fine that she had said that to me when I was fifteen and kissed for the first time.

It was not fine that she had said that was the ‘infernal agonies of being a woman’ in this world. Perhaps she had forged my world view. Perhaps it is her making that I am here. Standing between two of the most feared and respected men of Birmingham. The men accused of horrid violence and men whom I have seen relish in violence. And here, I wish nothing more in my life that I was like them.

For children to run away, for women to fear their lives and not their virtues and for men to part ways and not dare look me in the eyes with a grin of condensation.

I thank God for this opportune moment to be my own man. I promise myself to light a candle in the church tomorrow.

With a delighted shout of Arthur we entered the Garrison pub and the boys poured drinks on top of drinks enjoying themselves. They had no worries at all, the said happily that tomorrow they want to go to the fair. Enjoy themselves a bit of fresh air and get Fin – their youngest brother – an enjoyable day of fun with no worries.

How nice. I though. To have siblings that are still alive and get to take you out on a ride to the fair in a car. Then bitterly I remember. I used to have a car. I used to have a fancy beautiful car. Then I had to sell it away.

Why did I have to give away my life, all that was valuable and dear to me because I was not dear to my mother. Why. I ask myself. Then with a shake of my head, I discard all thought. I down a glass of gin with no more thoughts of lost dear things.

The day I stepped in Birmingham was the day I promised myself I would discard all nostalgic notions of memories or things that I hold dear. It is of no use to reminisce over things that are all gone and done with. The house, the car, the jewels, the fur, the lace, the horses – all 20 of them – they are all sold away and all I can do is to trust that my judgment on good respectable buyers was true and right.

Instead, I make a mental note. One day, I will have a nice car. No, I will have the nicest. And the 20 horses we had? I will have a stable with 200 horses. At that I snort into my fourth glass of gin. 200 horses, that’s a lot of shit to shovel. 

I drink and I drink and I think somewhere in the middle John shoved a lunch sandwich in my mouth and I  aet that. I remember them laughing and I remember them joking about a young boy turning into a man. I was good with holding my liquor, but even I –secretly a woman – could not go toe to toe with the likes of Arthur and John Shelby.

Later, when the men had their fun, they left and of course I wasn’t with them. They left the Garrison doing God knows what and I had to look at the clock on the wall to know I was almost late for work now. Honestly these men. Just because they are irresponsible idiots doesn’t mean everyone else have no obligations. 

With a drunken buzz I stumble and sway down the road. Thankfully, at least to some degree I know how to nurse drunkenness and the hangover afterwards. Curtesy of family thanksgivings at grandpa’s house. As I walk pass the stores one by one, I casually look at the people and their store windows. Walking slow helped with balancing myself in hopes of not making a fifth embarrassing fall in muds and I quietly observe and occasionally give a respectful tug to my cap as I walk the people I know. The butcher, the store owner I purchased some home appliances from and the seamstress that I visited once or twice. I see that they respectfully nod or smile at me, the ones that only know me as the young boy who comes and goes and those who have seen me with the Shelby men, they still behave kind and polite but with a small apprehension of a skittish cat. Ready to run away to avoid capture.

I smile mentally at the notion. I never though of myself as a power hungry person. I always though I was a person that simply was…good. A kind, generous hard-working woman who simply lives a mostly virtuous life. I suppose everyone thinks that about themselves. That they are good and kind and even though they may not be perfect that are at least not that bad.

I am beginning to think that I am in fact that bad.

Good. I’ll be able to survive here at least.

As I walk pass the clothing store my eyes catch a beautiful albeit modest blue dress with green little vines sewn on it. I almost wish I could have bought it. wised I could have worn it. I suspect the bodice had to be adjusted to my smaller breasts but the rest would fit me like a glove. Maybe Byron should buy a dress and send it to his family. Maybe.

It is then that I see in the reflection of the glass a small green patch moving. I turn in an instant to see a woman in nice green clothes. Like really nice clothes. They seemingly looked modest but really, they were not. They looked like a city woman’s attempt at working class. I would know. I tried the same. But it never works like that. You can’t wear clothes that are simple and say you’re working class. Because the clothes aren’t what people look at. Even here these people have really nice clothes they keep for weddings and such.

Rather it’s the little things that set her apart. Her hair was one of them. Beautiful styled long blond locks that sat in perfect waves with no split ends or soot stuck on it. her face was unlike any women in these parts. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was exactly, but I knew we were cut from the same cloth. In some ways at least. Another thing was her hands, from where I was and what I could see she had delicate gentle smooth hands, tell tale of not a single day of working class daily life.

Interesting.

“Excuse me, sir?” came a sickly-sweet voice, with an Irish accent from a pair of sweet and pink lips. It took me a moment to realize that the pair of soft pink lips belonged to the lady in green and the sir in question was  me.

“Yes, how can I help?” I ask looking her up and down. I had almost answered with a what do you want. Maybe that was more appropriate for the persona of a working-class stable boy but some things even I couldn’t change.

“Can you tell me the way to the Garrison pub?” she asked all polite and nice. What a classy lady.

“What business you have at a pub?” I ask as any man would while giving her an incredulous look. It was interesting to be the one handing out the look and not be the one on the receiving end of it. I do wonder if I make the same expression as hers when treated this way.

“I saw the advertisement for hiring in the papers.” She spoke. “Can you tell me where it is?”

Maybe I was wrong. She doesn’t seem all that bright if she’s explaining herself to any stranger. Or I should be careful because she’s using me for information or as an alibi.

I think I am being paranoid. But it would be safe to keep my eyes on this little lady in green.

“Alrighty miss.” I say with the smile of a young man pleasantly fooled or rather charmed by her. “You see that road? You go down there and after passing two cross roads you take a left at the second street. Go down four alleys and you’ll see the Garrison on your right. it’s a relatively big place and has a big sign. No way you’d miss it.” I say pleasantly.

Was there a more straight forward way or even a shortcut to the Garrison? Yes. Did I what her to deal with drunks and feel unsafe on purpose? Maybe.  Do I feel bad? Not necessarily. I feel if little miss covert here wants a job at a pub, she should at least have a handle on things such as potentially dangerous idiots. 

I reach the yard and right as I push through the gates, I am met with the unholy visage of the blue eyes devil himself. “Hello mister Shelby.”

“you are an hour late to the afternoon shift and you reek of alcohol.” He sates. That’s something I’ve noticed he does. He only states things like he’s reading facts. No emotions or depth behind his words and no indication of what he expects in response.

“My apologies mister Shelby. Misters Arthur and John invited me for drinking and I thought it would be rude to refuse.” As always honesty is better when not prompted by violence or force. If I tell the truth before he pulls a razor on me there is less chance of me getting killed. “It won’t happen again.”

“Me brothers got you drunk?” he asks as he takes a long drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke in my face.

“Well, the kept offering and I reconned it would be impolite to refuse misters Shelby.” I bow my head.

“So it would.” He agrees in a tone that seemed as if he’s mocking my submission to his brothers’ requests.

We both began to walk down the small path to the stables. I walked a step behind and kept my eyes on the road looking at his shoes as he walked leisurely.

“You never went to France did you boy?” he gave me an over the shoulder glance and nudged his chin upwards beckoning me to walk faster with him. to walk next to him instead of behind.

“No mister Shelby. A month after I turned eighteen the war ended and no matter how much I wanted to serve the crown and fight along with me older brothers and father…” I trailed off here. My brothers. My father. How I miss them. “I had no right to be disappointed that the war had finally ended.”

“I suppose not. No one should want the war to continue.” He says and lights another cigarette as he watched me begin the afternoon work and check on the hoof of the very same horse that got me my employment. “So, your brothers served. Where are they now?”

“They all died.” I snapped, glaring at him. what right did he have to pry on such private matters? Then again he was the king of peaky devils. The damned blue-eyed devil himself. He saw himself with the right to do anything.

“My condolences.” He simply says. He puts off his what I can only assume is the millionth cigarette of his day and turns on his heels and leaves me. at the door he turns around just enough for me to see one third of his face blocking in the setting sun. “You can refuse them. My brothers. Your job is more important than playing nice with John or Arthur.”

And he’s gone with the gate closed behind him and I am left in the dark with two large horses and look at me with their ears turned forward and their inquisitive eyes. As if they are asking if that is truly the life, I have planned for myself or that perhaps the awfully devilish but barely visible smirk of Thomas Shelby was truly aimed at me. 

“Of course, mister Shelby.”

[houseofbrat]

I thought it was interesting that William and Catherine took the train to Birmingham when they usually use the helicopter. The weather was good today and William likes to keep up his flying hours so you'd think they'd use their regular transport. Don't know if another member of the family was using the helicopter but trains have facilities if required.

It'll be interesting to see if Catherine attends any of the coronation events other than the actual day. In normal circumstances I'd expect to see her at one of the garden parties and maybe her and William show up unannounced at a street party like they did at the jubilee celebrations.

I'm so interested to see what she wears to the coronation. I imagined Catherine would wear a sleek, elegant and simple dress but now I think we'll see something with a substantial skirt.

I will spare you my thoughts on William's helicopter flying.

It's time for the McQueen antler dress!

[rockislandadultreads]

Libby Spotlight: History eAudiobooks

Graveyard of the Pacific by Randall Sullivan (read by Lynch Travis)

Off the coast of Oregon, the Columbia River flows into the Pacific Ocean and forms the Columbia River Bar: a watery collision so turbulent and deadly that it's nicknamed the Graveyard of the Pacific. Two thousand ships have been wrecked on the bar since the first European ship dared to try to cross it. Since then, the commercial importance of the Columbia River has only grown, but despite the construction of jetties on either side, the bar remains treacherous.

When Randall Sullivan and a friend set out to cross the bar in a two-man kayak, they're met with skepticism and concern. But on a clear day in July 2021, when the tides and weather seem right, they embark. As they plunge through the currents that have taken so many lives, Randall commemorates the brave sailors that made the crossing before him—including his own abusive father, a sailor himself who also once dared to cross the bar—and reflects on toxic masculinity, fatherhood, and what drives men to extremes.

Rich with exhaustive research and propulsive narrative, Graveyard of the Pacific follows historical shipwrecks through the moment-by-moment details that often determined whether sailors would live or die, exposing the ways in which boats, sailors, and navigation have changed over the decades.

King by Jonathan Eig (read by Dion Graham)

Vividly written and exhaustively researched, Jonathan Eig's King: A Life is the first major biography in decades of the civil rights icon Martin Luther King Jr.—and the first to include recently declassified FBI files.

In this revelatory new portrait of the preacher and activist who shook the world, the bestselling biographer gives us an intimate view of the courageous and often emotionally troubled human being who demanded peaceful protest for his movement but was rarely at peace with himself. He casts fresh light on the King family's origins as well as MLK's complex relationships with his wife, father, and fellow activists. King reveals a minister wrestling with his own human frailties and dark moods, a citizen hunted by his own government, and a man determined to fight for justice even if it proved to be a fight to the death. As he follows MLK from the classroom to the pulpit to the streets of Birmingham, Selma, and Memphis, Eig dramatically re-creates the journey of a man who recast American race relations and became our only modern-day founding father—as well as the nation's most mourned martyr.

Koresh by Stephan Talty (read by Sean Pratt)

No other event in the last fifty years is shrouded in myth like the 1993 siege of the Branch Davidians in Waco, Texas. Today, we remember this moment for the 76 people, including 20 children, who died in the fire; for its inspiration of the Oklahoma City bombing; and for the wave of anti-government militarism that followed. What we understand far less is what motivated the Davidians' enigmatic leader, David Koresh.

Drawing on first-time, exclusive interviews with Koresh's family and survivors of the siege, bestselling author Stephan Talty paints a psychological portrait of this infamous icon of the 1990s. Born Vernon Howell into the hyper-masculine world of central Texas in the 1960s, Koresh experienced a childhood riven with abuse and isolation. He found a new version of himself in the halls of his local church, and love in the fundamentalist sect of the Branch Davidians. Later, with a new name and professed prophetic powers, Koresh ushered in a new era for the Davidians that prized his own sexual conquest as much as his followers' faith. As one survivor has said, "What better way for a worthless child to feel worth than to become God?"

In his signature immersive storytelling, Talty reveals how Koresh's fixation on holy war, which would deliver the Davidians to their reward and confirm himself as Christ, collided with his paranoid obsession with firearms to destructive effect. Their deadly, 51-day standoff with the embattled FBI and ATF, he shows, embodied an anti-government ethic that continues to resonate today.

The Windsors at War by Alexander Larman (read by Sophie Roberts)

At the beginning of 1937, the British monarchy was in a state of turmoil. The previous king, Edward VIII, had abdicated the throne, leaving his unprepared and terrified brother Bertie to become George VI, surrounded by a gaggle of courtiers and politicians who barely thought him up to the job. Meanwhile, as the now-Duke of Windsor awaited the decree that would allow him to marry his mistress Wallis Simpson, he took an increased interest in the expansionist plans of Adolf Hitler. He may even have gone so far as to betray his country in the process. And as double agents and Nazi spies thronged the corridors of Buckingham Palace, the only man the King could trust was his Prime Minister, Winston Churchill. But they faced a formidable, even unbeatable, adversary: his own brother.

The Windsors at War tells the never-before-told story of World War Two in Britain and America with a fresh focus on the royal family, their conflicted relationships, and the events that rocked the international press. How did this squabbling, dysfunctional family manage to put their differences aside and unite to help win the greatest conflict of their lifetimes? Alexander Larman, author of The Crown in Crisis, now chronicles the Windsor family at war with Germany—and each other.

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

WTNV quick rundown - 83 - One Normal Town

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out, don’t breathe, don’t breathe, don’t breathe, don’t breathe. Welcome to Night Vale.

Cecil unhappily reports that in order to solve the financial crisis in Desert Bluffs permenantly, the two towns are going to merge. Meaning that the land and buildings in Desert Bluffs will now be considered Night Vale and all the 'weirdos' that used to live there are now citizens of NV.

Sheriff Sam also vehemently opposes this unification.

Dave Morales Cariño of the former Desert Bluffs sets up the first Joyous Congregation of the Smiling God in NV on the old industrial stretch of the Eastern Expressway. Worship of a Smiling God is not new to NV, and some old residents attend the opening happily, this is just the first time they've had an actual place to go and practice their religion.

City Council says that sales of Bloodstone circles may have dropped by almost 1% because of this and urges citizens to remain bloodstone circle worshippers.

Sheriff Sam, the SSP and the City Council attempt to forcefully drive away all ex-citizens of DB (assumedly into the desert to die) but are stopped by Dana. She tells them to go home, and that the town of NV belongs to ex-DB citizens now as much as it belongs to Sheriff Sam, the SSP and the City Council. She offers her support to the ex-DB citizens. Cecil isn't sure how to feel about that.

Cecil's admits that even if he's unhappy, there is no such thing as normal, only progress and change. His days of ranting endlessly as Desert Bluffs even as people all in to tell him to shut up, his days of trying to cast spells to cause Desert Bluffs ruin, are over. There is a new NV, and it will still be NV and he knows he can live within this newness, which is normal but also not normal because there is no universal normal as much as we like to think there is.

Weather: "The Sky Is Calling" by Kim Boekbinder

The Ralph's is now selling food via aunction only.

Carlos is going to do the shopping for them (which is the usual) since Cecil has trouble with auctions due to the past trauma of being aunctioned off and then controlled against his will because of being owned in this fashion.

Today's sponsor was a dog wagging his tail. Such a good boy.

Paul Birmingham, notorious activist for strange things, airfilled Earth believer and general person who lives in a lean-to by the library, is generally opposed to something not-specific. He says he hopes that something out there is real and right.

Stay tuned next for tomorrow's winning lottery numbers, broadcast to everyone simultaneously and so reducing each jackpot share to a small but fair amount.

And from a town that isn’t the town it was before, and then won’t be the town it has become, and then will change again, and then again after that, and all of them the same town, and all of them our town: Good night, Night Vale. Good night.

Proverb: Actually it's property's brother.

[cleolinda]

The National Weather Service said Huntsville, Muscle Shoals, Birmingham and Tuscaloosa had record low maximum temperatures on Tuesday, Jan. 16.

The weather service in Birmingham said Birmingham’s high on Tuesday was 27 degrees, breaking the previous record in 1977 of 30.

We remain fine. Schools did close today (good; safer for my nephew). Pipes are good. Some of the plants we won't know about until they do or don't return in the spring. My mom had the heat cranked so high downstairs that I had to take a cool shower, so we're warm enough. Six-inch icicles are currently dropping from the roof as the ice melts off the deck. Roads are dry and clear (and sandy). Forecast is still ridiculously cold through the weekend but highs will be in the 30s and 40s (°F); rain will come in next Tuesday and it'll be in the 50s-60s. You needed to know this, I'm sure.

I'm not sure what's going on in north Alabama, where they got like half a foot of snow; I think some schools up there are closing or going virtual the rest of the week, per al.com.

[onegirlatelier]

1930s Qipao - a masterpost

Hey there!

I haven't posted on Tumblr (well, on this sideblog) in a long, long time. I have made plenty of things, just didn't have enough energy to write it all down in coherent sentences.

I think I'm going to make a new series though, since I don't have a blog elsewhere and I need a public space to organise my thoughts, on the making of a qipao in the 1930s style and tradition.

I have made two qipaos before (when I was still a baby to couture dressmaking) but whilst they were wearable, they were very messy with structural issues. Now that I'm a bit more experienced, I'm determined to a) make a proper toile/pattern, b) improve my pressing skills with a steam iron, and c) have nice and round fabric buttons and neat 'button legs'.

I won't have time to smooth out my notes, so I'm just going to reblog and add stuff in the thread or edit the post directly. I'm going to note down the methods I use as well as other methods I've learned about, since there are different ways to make things and each dressmaker develops their own techniques over time.

So for today I just want to share my choice of fabrics and notions.

Main fabric

'Pink sketchy retro garden rayon fabric' purchased at Guthrie & Ghani (a shop located in Birmingham, UK). The selvage reads 'AMSTERDAM by Anbo Textiles designed by Sholto Drumlanrig', so I guess that's the actual textile company and designer.

The website says the rayon is 'similar to viscose', but since rayon technically equals viscose, we don't actually know if the rayon used here is the old-fashioned stuff or a more eco-friendly version like Ecovero.

It feels very smooth with a good drape, a bit heavier than silk.

I got 2.5m which would be enough for a 120cm long qipao. A 1930s qipao has no shoulder seams so you cut the front and back in one piece, hence the length of fabric=2*(length of the garment). I only need 80cm in width for a short-sleeved qipao though. If you have a wide fabric width you can actually make two sleeveless/short-sleeved qipaos, or you can save the other half for something else!

Other fabric choices

The perfect choice would be silk. This is because silk drapes nicely and is very easy to stretch/shrink and be molded into 3D shapes. Of course you need a drapey silk, not too stiff and not too flowy.

Other natural fabrics, including cotton, linen, and wool, are all good. Cotton and linen will be harder to shape though.

Synthetic/semi-synthetic fabrics can be used too, just keep in mind that some are hard to shape, and some do not wash well. You want something that is very breathable, since it fits snugly around the neck, and drapey.

A medium, non-transparent fabric for a single-layered (or lined for colder weather) qipao. A transparent silk can be paired with a slip (which you would wear anyways if you follow the norm of the 30s).

If you plan to wash your finished garment you must choose a fabric that can be washed reasonably without fuss and pre-wash it.

Binding tape

Mine is a pre-made tape from Atelier Brunette. You can make your own with the fabric of your choice. It has to be on true bias (very important)!

I have eight metres in total, not sure how much I will end up using.

Stay tape

Super important. 99% of the resources I've read suggest fusible interfacing. A very thin but sturdy woven tape would work too. Sometimes I use strips of silk organza cut on straight grain (or leftover selvages), which is also what I plan to try for this project.

You need at least 4*(length of garment).

Sewing thread

I always use Fujix 100% cotton sewing thread. Also a thicker (maybe cheaper) thread for thread-marking and basting. If making surface decorations, silk threads would be nice. I don't feel the need to wax the Fujix threads but if using another brand/type I would certainly consider waxing.

Starch glue

Either buy some or make your own. Another soluble stabilizer would probably work too. This is used for the edges, especially at the neckline. If I didn't want to bother with a glue, I would leave the cutting until the last minute, baste with running stitches, and minimize the handling.

Interfacing

This is for button strips and the collar. I use a medium-soft cotton canvas. I know most people use a fusible interfacing, but I don't like it. Organza is not the most suitable, though if I needed a semi-transparent natural fabric for the style then it would be my best bet. You can also starch the fabric to stiffen it, but a starch glue washes out.

Also a lot of sharp pins and a trusted pair of scissors. Some people use spaghetti straps to make buttons, in which case you need a drawstring threader type of thing.

[thehairandbeautyregistersblog]

Winter Hair Care Tips To Follow | The Hair And Beauty Register

Winter is finally here. Say goodbye to hair damage stimulated by sun rays. But, don’t skip your daily hair care routine. Going outside in these dry winter months can cause your hair to freeze. It also increases the likelihood of fragile hair.

You will get multiple options forthe hair salon in Birminghamand its surrounding regions. Look into the UK beauty salon business directory and locate the nearest beauty salon to pamper your hair.

Hair care tips in the winter months

Contrasting harsh indoor heating and cold weather can deplete hair moisture, lustre and strength, thereby, leaving it brittle, lime and susceptible to breakage. Follow these tips to keep your hair nourished through the winter months.

Wash your hair less often

As the mercury level drops across the country and the weather continues to cool, your hair is likely to dry out. Don’t wash your hair too often during this time as it becomes fragile and prone to break. So, wash your hair once or twice a week. It allows the hair’s natural oil to repair the damage. Try to dry your hair naturally when you are washing it.

Dry your hair before going out

Your wet hair in the cold weather is likely to break if your hair is already weak. If you have coloured your hair recently, wet hair can trigger the colour to fade rapidly. Use a micro fibre towel to dry your hair as it eliminates most of the water from your hair. Try to wash your hair before going to bed so that the strands will be dry in the morning causing less damage to the hair in the cold.

Moisture your hair

Pick a shampoo and a conditioner that is specially formulated to handle dryness. Moisturise is an essential part of winter hair care. Use a deep conditioner in your regular hair care regime. You can also use daily moisturising oil in your routine to keep your hair looking sleek in the dry winter months.

If you can’t select the best shampoo for your hair, contact a hair expert fromthe beauty salon business directory.

Keep your hair covered

Create a physical barrier between your hair and chilly winds. Use a stylish cap, hat or scarf to protect your locks in the cold temperature. Be mindful when using woollen headwear as it can generate static electricity. Hair experts recommend silk scarves for wrapping your hair to protect it from potential damage.

Reduce hot showers

Although hot showers during cold winter months can be highly tempting, it wipes out moisture and natural oil from your hair. Hot showers also cause your scalp to become flaky and dry. Use lukewarm water to wash your hair and cold water at the hair ends to seal the hair cuticles.

Trim Split Ends

Search a beauty salon in Birmingham to book a hair consultation for your split ends. Split ends don’t go away no matter how many hair masks you try. Schedule an appointment with your hairdresser every six weeks throughout the winter months to avoid a build-up of split ends.

Final words

Winter can be a bad hair season if you don’t take adequate care of your hair. Avoid using hot water on hair, trim split ends, cover your hair, and dry your hair before stepping outside to minimise hair damage during the cold weather. Navigate the UK beauty salon business directory to book a hair consultation today!