#campbell clan

[dijidweeeb]

A piece of my Scottish Heritage, Clan Campbell: My 7th Great Grandmother is Kathrine/Cathrine Campbell... her father Archibald Campbell 3rd Duke of Argyll, 1st Earl of Ilay is my 8th Great Grandfather, his father ... Gillespie Archibald Campbell 2nd Duke of Argyll who died in the battle of Flodden is my 9th Great grandfather ... my 10th Great Grandfather is Colin Campbell 1st Duke of Argyll ... It moves into a bunch of Earls of Argyll after that. Though my last name is not Campbell & has nor been for 6 generations, I'm still a Campbell.

[historicminiaturesnorthernva]

“There is nothing heard now up and down the kingdom but alarms and rumores, randevouses of clans. Montross and MacKoll in every manes mouth, nay the very children frightened"

Clan MacDougall serving under Alasdair Mac Colla in 1644-45, supporting the royalist cause in Scotland.

[numiolaes]

also pulling this from my targaryen ocs lore but i firmly believe there are more targaryens than just the royal line. when they flee valyria it's said that aenar took his "wives, siblings, children and kin". kin when you're talking about what are effectively clans can cover a LOT of people since it includes cousins and then you add in the polygamy thing Welp. Literally look at the freys to see how big ONE house can be.

I firmly believe when the doom happened there were a couple hundred targaryens in westeros. which would have expanded in the 100 years between then and aegon and again between aegon and the dance. it's just likely that especially around the dance a LOT of the cadet branches take loses, then later you get the rebellions, add in how that targs are Kinda Fucking Cursed and boom, you're down to the smattering we see in the 5 kings era.

like, that's realistically how things like houses work. i get why grrm doesn't write about all that because that's a lot of fucking people to work into the fucking timeline but then you shouldn't have made the valyrians polygamous and imply that aenar took basically his whole house over to dragonstone.

[vox-anglosphere]

Kilchurn Castle, Argyll - reflected in the serene waters of Loch Awe

[rainbowfoxes]

So a little IDW!TMNT theory I've cooked up

Recently, one of the creators for the comic — One Ms. Sophie Campbell — stated that as of issue #112, about 5 years have passed since the series started. You can see her post here.

Now I've gone back to read the issue to confirm, and it looks like at some point in the process, "5 years" got changed to "several" as you can see on this page.

Now, it seems like at some point, "five years" was changed to "several years" (and we can tell that this was a later change due to how clunky "we're only about several years old" is as phrase. We're going to take Ms. Campbell's word, though because a) I trust her memory and authority on the subject as both the author and artist for this issue and b) it makes things much more interesting.

Here's why:

In issue #69's (nice) Ninja Notes editorial column, editor Mr. Bobby Curnow (at least, I assume it is Mr. Curnow who responded to the letters to the editor at this time. Regardless, the point stands) states that the turtles "span roughly from fifteen to nineteen," as you can see here:

Now, issue #69 came out in May of 2017. Issue #1 came out in August of 2011. Following our 2:1 ratio, that means it had been three years since the start of the series. By extrapolation, that means the boys were twelve to sixteen as of issue #1.

But wait! There's more!

Issue #1 establishes that the turtles mutated 18 months prior to the start of the series, which puts them mentally at ten-and-a-half to fourteen-and-a-half.

And now we draw it all together:

In the IDW continuity, the Turtles and their father are the reincarnations of the Hamato family, all of whom were executed by Oroku Saki several hundred years ago. If the boys were about mentally about ten to fourteen when they mutated? That means they were about ten to fourteen when this —

— Happened.

Now, all this is done without taking into account some in-universe time skips. Comic book time is very Jeremy Bearimy like that. But I think it's close enough that I can confidently say not a one of those boys was over 16 when they were murdered, and I think the younger they are the more heartbreaking everything is. They spent almost their whole lives on the run, training to get vengeance, only to die before they could even be considered adults. And then Splinter goes and sets them on the same path when they get a second chance at life...

(but that's it's own post)

[All images are described. If there is any problem with the descriptions, please let me know!]

[rosella-writes]

Rooooooo it's Friday and could I please have some Loghain & Mahariel for "I find that happiness is an extremely uneventful subject" from the Florence prompts please!!

awww THANK YOU here you go 💚

Characters: Rhiannon Mahariel & Loghain Mac Tir Rating: G For @dadrunkwriting

~~~

My friend,

They’ve given me the most awful quill. I’d rather have the burnt coal sticks again but they insist on ink. Ink’s for tattooing, not for paper, but whatever. 

How are you? How’s Egg? I don’t miss his barking but I do miss you and how you’d talk to him. I hope Orlais isn’t too awful for two horrible Fereldan beasts. Although you have to admit, the outcome is a little funny. I realise this is unlike most missives you’ve ever gotten, but I don’t care. I need to look busy right now and this will do. And I wish to hear from you. I’m bored. 

Are you happy? Is it possible for you to be happy? I’m curious.

Zevran might steal this note before you get it, just to prove he still can. I apologise in advance.

Dareth shiral (remember what that means?),

Warden Commander Rhiannon Mahariel (Creators, what a title. I hate it.)

[The note has been pierced through with what seems like a cut from a knife tip. The seal is broken, and around it someone has written something vulgar in Antivan.]

Commander,

I’m surprised your note made it to me at all, considering the condition of its arrival by bird. The rain has nearly made it illegible. All I could make out were ‘how’s Egg’ and ‘are you happy,’ which, all things considered, are strange questions to ask me. But I shall do my best to answer. 

Egg refuses to be called by anything else, which gives these Orlesians a good laugh. He is strong and quick and gives his breed a good name. He puts to shame their wasp-waisted little whippet dogs. He misses you somewhat but otherwise grows fat on scraps from the table. 

As for your second question, it is a challenge to answer. I find that happiness is an extremely uneventful subject, and when I had it in my grasp I did not know what it was. I am unsure if I can currently call this happiness, but at the very least I am oddly content. It feels strange to write, here in this strange land, but to have purpose here in the field once more is Maker-sent. I refuse to say such a thing to the dispatcher from Weisshaupt, however. May they believe they have set me on a task worthy of my many sins, lest they worsen my lot. 

I thank you for your note. Writing my response has filled a dull evening. 

I do indeed remember what your saying means, and raise you an old goodbye of my own people. Clan Clayne may be no more, but my mother would often speak their old words to me in a smattering of bad grammar and loose meanings. 

In any case, mar sin leibh an-dràsta, my friend.

Loghain Mac Tir

~~~

Dareth shiral: farewell, lit. "safe journey" Mar sin leibh an-dràsta: (Scots Gaelic) "goodbye for now"

[the-only-unicorn-cheese]

I Miss Him

this is a verrrry short scene i threw together in Notepad + MS Paint, only 375 words. i’ve decided to go a Direction™ with SunClan’s lore, so i may write more scenes like this one. i’ve come up with a lot of lore for these cats, & i hope you guys like them!

ficbit below the cut:

Whitetrail sat alone, watching the Flatrocks with a weariness in his eyes. It took him several moments to register the distant rustle of ferns as cat's steps were heard from behind. He did not turn to face her; the evening breeze carried Dawnstripe's scent to him easily. Wordlessly, she leapt up to the rock and sat beside him, tail curling over her paws neatly. For a while they sat in silence, listening to the shushing of the trees of late greenleaf.

"Greenleaf has been kind to us," she commented finally. "The Clan will be plenty ready, come leafbare."

"... Yes."

There's a pause, a long beat of quiet that weighed heavy in the air.

"I know you came out here to check on me..." Whitetrail mewed dryly.

The warrior shifted her paws slightly. "You've been working very hard since... the incident at the Twolegplace. Maybe a bit too hard." She turned to face him, her amber eyes warm in the dying sunlight.

The pale-grey tom grew rigid where he sat. He wasn't a kit; he didn't need her to dance around the topic like this. "Of course I've been working hard," he began to growl, "I'm Clan deputy; it's my job...!" But as he caught the look in her eyes, his anger softened, his tiredness returning to its perch on his shoulders.

Dawnstripe touched her tail to his shoulder. "I'm sure StarClan is watching over him, wherever he is," she whispered.

"But how will he ever find his way home? We barely made it out of there ourselves! He's all alone!" Aching sadness pulled at his meow, tearing down the walls he put up to shield his Clanmates from his sorrow, to show strength in such uncertainty. But now, in the presence of one of his senior warriors, he could stand to hold them no longer.

"But he is not alone," she mewed, and her voice was steady and kind — though he could smell her fear-scent. "StarClan is with him. StarClan will bring him home."

Longing like claws ripped through Whitetrail. I miss him, he thought, I miss him now. I miss my brother. And as he gazed up to the first stars of Silverpelt, he sent his heart to StarClan. Please... please bring Ghoststar home.

[labradoritedreams]

On March 21, 1871, Princess Louise, Duchess of Argyll married John Campbell, 9th Duke of Argyll at St George’s Chapel, Windsor, England.

This painting by Sydney Hall shows Princess Louise on her wedding day. Queen Victoria described the marriage as 'the most popular act of my reign'.

The woman in the red dress on the right of the picture is Janey Callander of Craigforth and Ardkinglas, aka Lady Archibald Campbell, wife of Lord Archibald Campbell. Their son Niall became 10th Duke of Argyll.

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

sometimes the SPN HC Lore that my Research(tm) digs up is fascinating and canon-altering. Sometimes its fluffy and sweet (Cas loves crocodiles. I'm never going to be able to un-know that). Other times.... its just kind of random

Sam & Dean are related to/share an ancestor with This Campbell, Specifically

the reason that this matters at ALL is due to the truly unhinged amount of Campbells that specifically went into folklore/myth studies irl. For that reason, I get the feeling that MOST Campbells in the spn universe are in some way connected to this, butttt J.G. here is the closest match to a direct relative imho, for a couple reasons.

[majordemonblockparty]

mary campbell winchester who doesn't necessarily regret her demon deal, because she loves john, she does, in a deep and intense and preternatural way that scares her, sometimes, if she looks at it head-on for too long, but sometimes....

sometimes she just misses what she lost. what she traded in exchange for john. to have his snapped neck put back to rights and the breath put back in his lungs; what has to stay dead because she wanted john alive more.

she misses her parents when she has to clean out the house without him. she calls her cousins, campbell kids semi-settled within a day's driving distance, and four of them descend on lawrence to gut the house of everything hunting related before john gets it in his head to help her. she misses her daddy when she puts her hands on john's chest and looks up at him with real, actual tears trembling on her waterline and tells him she needs to be alone to pack up her parents' things. she misses her mama when john tucks her hair back from her face like she's something delicate and worth protecting, something that wouldn't trade two lives already lost for his.

it all has to go, everything hunting.

they pack it up into cardboard boxes and plastic milk crates -- the books, the journals; the cb radio set in the den and the armory behind the false wall in the bedroom; thousands of rounds packed in ammo cans labeled with her daddy's neat draftsman's hand printed on strips of masking tape: CONSECRATED IRON. SILVER -- PURE. SILVER -- ALLOY. COPPER -- STANDARD. her mom's correspondence book of every hunter they've ever known, the names and numbers and home addresses of people who sat at the campbell's dining room table and bled with them and died for them all throughout mary's entire childhood.

most of the clothes in the closet get donated, but mary keeps the box of baby clothes her mama had kept tucked up high on a shelf in their bedroom closet, in case she someday has a little girl with john's dark hair and the winchester name. she keeps the memory box with her first lock of hair and the jar of her baby teeth and the tattered scrap of her crib blankie. she keeps her dad's letterman sweater and her mama's canvas jacket with the padded shoulder where a rifle's meant to rest. she wants her daddy's wristwatch, but it goes into the pyre with the rest of his effects. their wedding rings, her mother's engagement band, all of it; mary watches it all burn down to smoldering cinders with her parents' shrouded corpses.

mary keeps what she has to -- her knives (one for every birthday since she turned ten), and a few handguns. john knows she and her parents were big into "target shooting", so it's not implausible she'd keep a couple. but most of it goes to her family downstate, redistributed amongst the campbell clan. she keeps the slim leather-bound volume printed in 1932 with detailed runic symbols and protective sigils, the sort her mama used to draw with magic marker on the underside of the insoles every time mary got a new pair of shoes. (she misses her mama when she does the same thing to the tiny shoes she puts on the baby boy mary named after her.)

she misses her daddy, who never gets to walk her down the aisle. he's not there to give her grief about "that goddamn nightgown of a hippie wedding dress; jesus, mare, you gettin' hitched today or you just roll outta bed?" or do his best to scare john shitless "as is a father in law's prerogative, damnit!" but then make sure his tie's on straight, 'cause john hasn't got a dad to do it for him.

she misses her mama worst when she's pregnant -- the first time with her little angel, her baby boy with ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes and two-thirds of his grandmama's name on his birth cert. and almost worse with sam -- john stayin' nights on a cot in the back room of that damned garage and herself to blame for it (he shouldn't'a said that, but she shouldn't've drawn her pistol on him like that, either; not with dean in the next room, sprawled out on his belly on the rug in front of the tv), eight months pregnant and huge as hell, dragging the garbage cans to the curb at five o'clock in the morning with dean on her hip 'cause he'll scream if he's set down even for a minute, and her housecoat coming open at the front and mary wants to sit down in the new-mown grass and weep, she's so goddamned tired, she wants her mama, she wants her daddy, she wants to go back and change her mind and have them flanking her on either side at john winchester's funeral. she wants her mama to brush back her hair and give her a kiss on the forehead and tell her everything's gonna be alright, and she wants her daddy to admit that john was a decent boy even if he was a civilian, and she wants to trade all of them -- her husband and her son and the baby rolling like a hoopsnake inside her -- for her family back.

(she'll feel different in a few hours. after she and dean have gotten a little more shut-eye, and she's made breakfast that caters to the demands of a bacon-obsessed toddler but doesn't also make her wanna hurl, maybe they'll go see john. see if she can't win john's forgiveness with the guileless screams of delight her sweet boy will no doubt give his daddy, and a few kicks from baby to the hand john will inevitably rest on her belly. but for the moment she thinks, oh, god; I should've let him die.)

[our-happygirl500-fan]

Throughout the many iterations of TMNT the four Turtles of the Hamato Clan have always been iconic but Leo, Donnie, Raph & Mikey aren’t the only Turtles of the family & there have been other mutant Turtles throughout the different iterations of TMNT

Another mutant Turtle is one that has been seen a few times in different TMNT iterations either following a ‘separated at mutation’ plot line or have the mutation happen later in the story

Venus

One of the other mutant Turtles that is quite well known within the TMNT fandom would be Venus De Milo who was the 5th Turtle in the Next Mutation show.

Her background was that she was a 5th Turtle that was mutated with Leo, Donnie, Raph & Mikey but got swept away in the sewers until she ended up in China Town where she was found by a Shinobi master & taken to be raised in Shanghai, she would later make her way back to New York & join the Turtle’s team.

Venus also makes an appearance as a character in the IDW comics as a former Punk Frog who was made into a Turtle by Dr Barlow using Donnie’s old shell.

Leo: What are you doing!? That was Venus De Magic the Queen of Quick Change!

There’s a slight possible reference to Venus in Rise with one of Leo’s favourite magicians being called Venus De Magic with Leo cradling the bust of one of his favourite magicians feeling a bit similar to Venus holding the statue head that gave her, her nickname & many people believe that there were plans to include Venus in Rise due to the plot of season 3 being the Turtles finding out they had two missing siblings but due to Rise not getting the season 3 it had expected we never got to find out if Venus really was one of the missing siblings in Rise.

Kirby

Closely related to Venus is the mutant Turtle Kirby a 5th Turtle that had been planned to be introduced in the 1990′s film series before the fourth movie was cancelled, named after the comic book artist Jack Kirby, Kirby was meant to be a Turtle from another dimension that would join the Turtles. There was talk of Kirby being the 5th Turtle in the Next Mutation but Saban Entertainment refused to do the series unless the 5th Turtle was a girl leading to Venus being created.

A version of Kirby was designed for the IDW comics where he was meant to be shown as part of the Splinter Clan in Future Lita’s future however though a design was created for Kirby he was not included in the actual comic.

Funnily enough Kirby the Turtle is not the only TMNT character to be named after Jack Kirby as April’s father in the 2012 series also shares the name Kirby

Jennika

Jennika is the 5th Mutant Turtle on the team in the IDW comics, she is a former Foot Clan Ninja who Splinter took under his wing & was mutated into a Turtle when Leo gave her a blood transfusion to save her life.

Before her mutation Jennika had been a friend of the Turtles & the idea of Jennika becoming a mutant Turtle had been tossed around for three years before it was finally finalised.

Jennika’s mutant form was originally designed by Sophie Campbell & coincidentally bares some resemblance to a fan character that Sophie Campbell designed named Artemisia (most likely named after the Italian painter Artemisia Gentileschi), the similarities between Jennika & Artemisia’s designs are said to be a coincidence as it was requested that Jennika’s bandana colour be yellow to match her hair from when she was human.

Sophie Campbell actually did get to include a canon version of Artemisia in the IDW comics by giving her a cameo in Future Lita’s future as a member of the Splinter Clan in the future.

Slash

Slash is arguably the 5th Turtle that has appeared in the most iterations of TMNT appearing in both the 1987 & 2012 series as well as appearing in both the Archie & IDW comics

In the 1987 series Slash was Bebop’s pet turtle who was mutated by Rocksteady & would later become the Turtle’s enemy, in the 2012 series Slash was Raph’s pet turtle who was mutated accidentally & would act as an enemy to the Turtles before becoming their ally & becoming the leader of the Mutanimals.

In the Archie comics Slash is an alien who was banished from his planet in the IDW comics Slash was mutated by StockGen who ended up following Hob & becoming an ally to the Turtles

Slash has even made a cameo in Rise appearing in the episode Bad Hair Day with a character meant to look like Mona Lisa.

Lita

Lita is a little girl who was mutated into a Turtle & taken in by Jennika & the other Turtles, she was named after Lita Ford (Jennika’s favourite singer), & she seems to view Jennika & the other Turtles as family as the Future version of Lita referred to Jennika as ‘mom’ & has called Raph, Donnie & Leo ‘Dad’.

It’s been shown that at some point in the future Lita becomes the apprentice & assistant to a grown up version of Renet

It appears that the future version of Lita is arguably especially close with Leo due to him being her Sensei

Uno, Yi, Moja & Odyn

Uno, Yi, Moja & Odyn are Turtles raised by Casey Marie Jones as the second generation of Ninja Turtles in the Last Ronin universe. The Turtles each seem to take after one of the original four Turtle’s with Uno taking after Leo, Yi taking after Donnie, Moja taking after Raph & Odyn taking after Mikey.

Each of the Turtles are named after the number one in different languages.

[vox-anglosphere]

The beauty of Glencoe in winter belies the tragic events of 1692

[scotianostra]

On July 17th 1537 Janet, Countess of Glamis was burnt at the stake on Edinburgh's Castlehill after being found guilty of two counts of treason.

Lady Glamis was the sister of Archibald Douglas, sixth Earl of Angus, who became the second husband of the Scottish Queen Dowager, Margaret Tudor, in 1514.

After James IV, had been killed at the battle of Flodden in 1513 his mother Margaret subsequently ruled Scotland as regent. She remarried and the ole of her new husband, the Earl of Angus, caused resentment among the Scottish nobility so much so John Stewart, Duke of Albany, was proclaimed replacement regent in 1517.

The on-going feuds between the Stewart and Douglas clans would heavily influence James V, who came of age in 1528 and sought to assert his influence on his kingdom. He was brieflyheld aptive by Angus as a young child in his attemptto control the country, thisis said to have deeply affected the young King.

His anger and desire for revenge later became centred on Janet Douglas. When her husband died, she was left without a protector.

James V accused her of poisoning her first husband, John Lyon, sixth Lord Glamis, when he died in 1528. She was however acquitted and remarried Archibald Campbell in 1532, after ceasing all communication with the Douglas clan in order to try and prove her innocence to James V.

This peace was not long lasting and five years later James once again accused her of attempting to poison him and also of conspiring with the Douglas clan against him.

These accusations of treason and witchcraft were ungrounded. To combat the lack of proof for these heavy claims, James managed to gather evidence against Lady Janet by torturing her family and servants to the point of extracting false evidence and statements against her nature. It is said that her young son was forced to watch his servants and family being tortured, before being tortured himself on the rack.

The rack was an implement of torture and was used to ‘stretch’ victims to the point of excruciating pain by tying their ankles and wrists separately and pulling them in opposite directions.

Lady Janet was subsequently burned at the stake at Edinburgh Castle, where allegedly her son was forced to watch her burn before he was released. It is said the onlookers watched in silence, tears in their eyes.

Lady Janet is said to roam the halls of Glamis Castle… she has been seen wandering the halls, kneeling in front of the alter praying in the chapel and above the clock tower.

Apparently, when in the chapel of the castle, people are overcome with a feeling of immense sadness and desolation. A seat is constantly kept empty for Lady Janet in the chapel, and it is said one hundred witnesses once saw her glide past them in the chapel, heading towards her allocated seat.

Lady Janet Douglas of Glamis is remembered as one of the most tragic figures in our history.

[verecunda]

I've been flicking through Gaelic Proverbs and Proverbial Sayings (1926) by T. D. MacDonald, and there are some crackers, especially when it comes to the clans.

Leathaineach gun bhòsd Dòmhnullach gun tapadh, Is Caimbeulach gun mhòr-chuis, Tri nithean tha ainemh. A MacLean without boast, A MacDonald without cleverness, A Campbell without pride- Three rarities.

Heh.

Spagadagliog Chloinn Dòmhnuill, Agus leòm nan Leathainich The MacDonald swagger, And the MacLean airs.

So, what I'm getting is that the MacDonalds and MacLeans were all gallus bastards. XD

Cha bhi gean air Granndaich gus am faigh iad lìte. Grants are never gracious till they get their porridge.

Not morning people, then? (Me neither.)

Camaranaich bhog an ime is sliomaran a chàise. The Camerons - soft as butter and fawning for cheese.

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?? Would be great to work into a Heron fic!

And, oh, I am definitely working this into a Kidnapped fic somewhere:

Stiùbhairtich, cinne nan righ ’s nan ceàird. Stewarts, the race of kings and tinkers.

I guess there must've been lots of Stewarts who went around reminding everyone that they bear A King's Name™. :D

[thetruthwilloutsworld]

Instagram scottishaerialexplorer

CLANS OF SCOTLAND ⚔️🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 Part 1

1. Inverary Castle | Clan Campbell

2. Dunollie Castle | Clan MacDougall

3. Achnacarry Castle | Clan Cameron

4. Old Castle Lachlan | Clan Maclachlan

5. Castle Leod | Clan Mackenzie

6. Ardverikie Castle | Clan MacPherson

7. RobRoy MacGregor Statue | Clan McGregor

8. Drumin Castle | Clan Gordon

9. Kildrummy Castle | Clan Mar

10. Castle Fraser | Clan Fraser Of Philorth

11. Wardhill Castle | Clan Leslie

12. Esslemont Castle | Clan Cheyne

In the annals of Scottish history, a tale as ancient as the mist-shrouded glens unfolds, a tale of kinship, resilience, and the enduring spirit of the Highlands.

Here, amidst the beautiful landscapes of Scotland, the tradition of clans emerged, weaving together Celtic, Norman-French, and Norse threads into a rich tapestry of heritage.

At the heart of this tradition lies the concept of the clan - a term derived from the Gaelic word 'clann,' signifying "family", yet extending its embrace to all who pledged allegiance to the clan chief. Whether by blood or by bond, members found solace and strength within the protective embrace of their kin.

Led by a clan chief, these communities forged a way of life shaped by the rhythms of the land-farming, tending to livestock, and engaging in the timeless rituals of Highland culture. Yet, amidst the tranquility of everyday existence, the specter of conflict loomed large.

The turbulent currents of Scottish history bore witness to countless clashes-clan against clan, invader against defender - as land and legacy hung in the balance. But it was the fateful Battle of Culloden in 1746 that delivered the decisive blow, shattering the old order and ushering in an era of upheaval.

The Highland clearances dispersed clans and severed bonds. In the hearts of those tracing their lineage to Scotland's soil, the spirit of the clans endures, a testament to community, resilience, and the timeless majesty of the Scottish Highlands.

[prettybillycore]

shot through the heart || ch.2 || billy hargrove x shelby!reader

Pairing(s): Shelby!Reader x Billy Hargrove, Minor Thomas Shelby x Grace Burgess

Universe: Peaky Blinders + Stranger Things

Summary: You, one of the younger members of the Shelby clan, are just trying to find your place in the world when suddenly you are shot. Instead of dying, you are flashed-forward in time to 1984 where you meet people who will change your life forever. Will you ever be able to return home? What caused you to time-travel in the first place?

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: canon typical violence, swearing

A/N: I can’t wait to see what you all think of the end of this chapter!!!

Read Below the Cut or on AO3

You were in the church lighting candles with Aunt Polly the first time you met Inspector Campbell. “A gentleman would take off his hat… and put out his pipe,” she said. She didn’t look up from her task of lighting her candles. 

You, however, did. You blew out the candle you were holding and looked over your shoulder at Inspector Campbell. “I see you only dare to come here when you know my brothers are away at the fair.”

“Ah yes, your brothers. With their guns and their razors? Is it them you're lighting candles for?” He asked. 

“We’re lighting candles for the boys from The Garrison who lost their lives in France,” Aunt Pol said, “There's a list there. Look.”

“I hear you didn’t make it to France, Inspector Campbell,” you taunted. Aunt Polly grinned. 

The inspector looked at you with a displeased expression. “You’ve heard of me,” he said, taking a step closer, “I think it’s unfair that I’ve not heard of you. I’ve only heard of Polly Gray and her nephews.”

You looked at Aunt Pol and then back at Inspector Campbell in shock, “I’m deeply offended. I’m only the most important member of the Shelby clan.”

Aunt Pol blew out the flame in her hand and smiled at the back of your head. She then wrapped her arms around your shoulders. “It’s definitely this one you should be on the lookout for. She’s smart as a whip and twice as devilish as my nephews some days.” You knew she was only kidding, but it still felt nice to be recognized as an essential member of the family. You sometimes felt overlooked, and Inspector Campbell having absolutely no idea who you were didn’t help that image you had of yourself. 

You looked at Inspector Campbell with a plastic grin. “My name’s Y/n. Y/n Shelby. I’m one of the siblings– between Finn and John.”

The inspector nodded and looked away from you and your aunt. He focused his attention ahead on the front of the church. He pushed open the gates and walked through them without another word to either of you. “Is it the Holy Grail you’re looking for?” Aunt Pol asked. 

“As a matter of fact, it is the Holy Grail I’m looking for,” the Inspector replied. His eyes were fixated on Aunt Polly. He began to walk toward the two of you. Pol put herself between you and the Inspector. “Something precious. Something stolen.” The Inspector took one of his hands and shoved Polly up against the wall. “Perhaps you know what I’m talking about.” His gaze was stern and low. 

Aunt Pol was always quick on her feet and thought of a plan to get herself out of that situation almost instantly. Aunt Pol leaned in and kissed the Inspector unexpectedly, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He pulled away from her and shot her a disgusted look. “Sorry, I misunderstood your intention when you pushed me against the wall.”

You couldn’t contain your laughter. Inspector Campbell used a piece of cloth to wipe his mouth before moving to let a team of coppers into the building. You weren’t raised in the Christian faith, but you still felt like them invading this holy space was vile and wrong. “Turn the place upside down,” Campbell spat. He then turned his attention back to you and your aunt. “Arthur Shelby said you people would help us.”

“How are we supposed to help if you won’t actually tell us anything about why you’re really here?” you asked.

Polly smiled at you again. “The girl has a point. If we don’t know what you’ve lost, how can we help you find it?” 

The Inspector ignored you both. “But I have found out subsequently that I was speaking to the wrong man. Next time, I want to talk to the boss.” The Inspector turned to leave. “Lickey Tea Rooms. Friday, ten o’clock. And when I say “the boss,” I mean Thomas.”

You watched Aunt Pol’s face closely. Her expression dimmed slightly as the Inspector left. “What could they possibly be searching for that’s so important? They are turning our poor city upside down, looking for it.”

Polly shook her head, “I don’t know, Y/n,” you were smart. You didn’t believe her when she said that. You were like her and Tommy in that way– you could always tell when someone was lying to you. However, for the time being, you decided to let it rest. “We’ll have to have a family meeting when the boys get back to town. Tommy won’t be pleased with the state of the city.”

You nodded. “That’s for sure. He won’t be happy when he sees the state of the local pubs and such. This copper is even more bad news than I thought he would be.”

| < ♥️ > |

“The coppers told everyone Arthur had agreed to it when he was arrested. They said the Peaky Blinders had cleared out to the fair to let them do it,” Aunt Pol said. Her tone was somewhere between scolding and informative.   

“I never said nothing to that copper about smashing up bloody houses,” Arthur fired back.

“All right. Which pubs did they do?” Tommy asked.

“The Guns, the Chains, the Marquis. All the ones that pay you to protect them. Only one they didn’t touch was the garrison. Make sure people think we were in on it. He’s smart, this copper,” Aunt Pol explained downly. “So go on. Drink your beer, get out. You’d better show people you are still the cocks of the walk.” Everyone began to stand up from the meeting. Tommy started saying something, but you weren’t paying him much attention. You were caught up in your own thoughts about what the copper could possibly want from your town, from your family that he would go to such great lengths to make your reputation go downhill. You were following Arthur and John out when you noticed Aunt Polly close the doors behind you. Usually you wouldn’t think much of this, but something in your gut told you Aunt Pol and Tommy in a room alone together right now was not good. You knew they would kill you if they caught you, but you couldn’t help yourself. After Arthur and John had long forgotten about you, you put your ear up to the door. Some of the men working gave you a funny look, but they dared not question you. You might be young, but you were still a Shelby. “So we both know what they were looking for,” Aunt Pol started. “You don’t read the papers.”

“Racing papers.”

“So let me tell you the odds. I reckon it’s three to one; there’ll be a revolution.” 

“I wouldn’t bet on that.”

“That copper’s betting on it,” you could make out the disapproval in Aunt Pol’s voice even through the door. “He’s not going to let it rest till he gets those guns back.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Guns? What guns are they talking about?

“Did he talk to you, Pol?”

“Me and Y/n. In the church.”

“What did he know of our darling, Y/n?”

You smiled at the name. “Nothing.”

“Did he try to find our Ada?”

“She was sleeping,” Pol explained. 

“Where was she sleeping, Pol?” Tommy asked. You could feel your forehead and hands becoming sweaty. How does he already know something’s up with Ada’s love life? You decided then and there that it was best to back away from the door slowly. The wood of the floor creaked ever so slightly, and you held your breath, but the conversation in the room beyond the doors continued. 

| < ♥️ > |

Life was pretty quiet for a few days. You were quite saddened by the death of Tommy’s new horse, but your brothers did their best to cheer you up. They knew that you got attached to animals rather quickly, and this horse had been no exception. Tommy promised he would figure out a way to make it up to you since he knew you were so looking forward to riding his horse. One way he knew how to cheer you up was by letting Grace have her way with music at the garrison. Saturday night came around, and Tommy invited you to join him and your brothers. The patrons of the Garrison were singing loudly while you sat with your brothers. You smiled brightly as Grace came in to serve you all. “Did you want whiskey as well?” she asked.

“No. Just beer,” Tommy replied. You eyed him carefully. That was very out of character for him at this point in his life. Tommy pretty much always wanted Whiskey.   

“Why no whiskey, Tommy? Are you expecting trouble?” Arthur asked.

Tommy didn’t answer his brother. His attention turned to John, who spoke with a snicker in his voice. “Jesus Christ, Tommy, what the hell made you let them sing? They sound like they’re strangling cats out there.”

You stopped paying attention for a minute, getting lost in the sounds of the bar around you. That is until Arthur mentioned your dad. “Fast women and slow horses… will ruin your life.” For a moment, Tommy almost smiled. It was a pleasant thing to see your brothers happy again, but that was quickly ruined by someone pulling up outside. “Coppers?” Arthur asked.

“No,” Tommy answered.

“Is there any man here named Shelby?” A male voice you didn’t recognize called out. His words were followed by silence and then a gunshot. 

You covered your ears and gasped. Tommy shushed you quietly, briefly pulling you into his side. “Sal’right, Y/n.”

“I said, is there any man here named Shelby?” The voice repeated itself in a slightly more irritated tone.

“Stay here, Y/n,” Tommy whispered. He, Arthur, and John got up from the table you all had been sitting at and made their way out of the room. They shut the door behind them, but that didn’t stop you from trying to listen in to everything going on. “Harry, get these men a drink. Everyone else, go home!”  

You heard the noises of the pub clearing out and Grace pouring drinks. Then, you heard Grace set something down on a table, followed by Tommy’s voice: “You go home.”

“But Mr. Fenton said–”

“I said, go home.” You could hear Grace walking away. 

The man’s voice from early cut through the air like a knife, “I’ve never approved of women in pubs, but when they look like that…”

It made you sick to your stomach. He was gross; you could just feel it in your bones. “You said you wanted men called Shelby. You’ve got three of them,” Tommy said.

“I’d never heard of you. Then I did hear of you. Some little Diddicoy razor gang. I thought to myself, ‘So, what?’ But then you fuck me over. So now you have my undivided attention,” he paused, “By the way, which one am I talking to? Who’s the boss?”

“Well, I’m the oldest,” Arthur stated.

The man scoffed. “Clearly.”

“Are you laughing at my brother?” John asked. You knew that tone of voice. It was the tone he used when he was about ready to fight someone. You gulped and prayed that Tommy stepping in would help the situation and not hurt it. 

“Right, he’s the oldest; you’re the thickest. I’m told the boss is called Tommy, and I’m guessing that’s you, ‘cause you’re looking me up and down like I’m a fucking tart,” He spat. 

“I want to know what you want,” Tommy said.

“There were suspicious betting patterns at Kempton Park. A horse called Monaghan Boy. He won by a length twice and then finished last with 3,000 pounds bet on him,” another voice replied. You didn’t recognize this voice either. It sounded softer and kinder than the other new voice in the room. 

“Which one am I talking to? Which one of you is the boss?” Tommy cooly questioned. He was playing with them. Your heart skipped a beat. You didn’t feel like that was a smart move, but it was very much something Tommy liked to do. 

You couldn’t help yourself at this point in the conversation; you had to see what was going on out there. You carefully crept over to the door, turned the handle as quietly as you could, and cracked it. “I am Mr. Kimber’s adviser and accountant,” The softer voice, the man seated closer to you, said. 

“And I’m the fucking boss. Okay, right, end of parley. You fixed a race without my permission,” the man you had come to know as Billy Kimber shouted. He was standing now. “You fucking Gypsy scum–”

Without thinking, you swung the door open. “Fixed race or not, how dare you speak to my brothers that way.”

“Y/n–” Tommy tried to silence you. It didn’t work. Kimber’s goons had their guns pointed in your direction, but you tried not to let it bother you. You were a Shelby, after all. This was not the first time a gun had been pulled on you.

 “Now who the fuck is this?” Kimber asked. The tone of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes trailed up and down your body, making your skin grow cold. “What did I just say about women in pubs?”

“She’s no one, Mr. Kimber,” Tommy said smoothly. “If we could get back to what we were discussing–” He was trying to remain calm, but you could tell just by the sound of his voice that he was deeply angry with you for stepping out of hiding. 

“Clearly, she’s someone if she’s been spying on our business talk.” He didn’t take his eyes off of you. He moved brashly, reaching out toward you without a second thought. His hand made contact with your bicep. His fingertips were clammy and slick with sweat. He yanked you from your position in the doorway. “Who do you think you are, whore? Speaking to me like that? I am Billy Kimber; I run the races!”

“I don’t care that you run the races. You said you wanted a man named Shelby; well, you’ve got three of them and one woman. You could be King bloody George for all I care. No one disrespects my brothers and gets away with it,” you fired back. There was rage behind your eyes. Unlike the first time you uttered the phrase ‘my brothers,’ Kimber seemed to understand now that you were in some way a Shelby. 

“You know, I thought you were quite pretty like that barmaid from earlier before you opened your big fucking mouth,” Kimber replied through gritted teeth. “It makes sense, though, of course, you’re a Shelby too. Anyone with that much courage and stupidity must be related to Tommy.” This is where things took a turn that you weren’t expecting. Kimber released his grip on your arm and, with all his might, shoved you to the floor. “I refuse to be spoken down to by a woman, especially a Shelby one at that. You filthy bitch.” You tried to catch yourself, but the skin on your hand ended up snagging on a rough piece of the wooden floor. It began to bleed as you lay on your side. Kimber kicked you in the stomach as he said those last three words. He turned his attention back to Tommy. That was when Tommy had enough. “Your whore sister is on my last nerve, and you fixed one of my races, so I’m going to have you shot against a post.”

Kimber turned to leave, but Tommy called after him. You saw Tommy toss something to him, but you couldn’t quite make out what it was. “Look at it,” your brother said. “That is my name in it. It’s from the Lee family. You are also at war with the Lees, Mr. Kimber, am I right?” Tommy knew he had Kimber hooked as he walked back toward the conversation. “The Lees are attacking your bookies and taking your money. Your men can’t control them. You need help.”

“Perhaps we should listen to what Mr. Shelby has to say before we make our decisions,” Kimber’s accountant said.  

“Right. The Lees are doing a lot of talking at the fairs. They have a lot of kin. They’re saying the race tracks are easy meat because the police are busy with strikes. Now, we have connections. We know how they operate. You have muscle. Together, we can beat them. Divided, maybe not,” Tommy explained. 

“Mr. Kimber, perhaps we should take some time for reflection, possibly make arrangements for a second meeting,” The accountant continued. 

“Before you knocked my little sister to the ground, I was prepared to say I admired you, Mr. Kimber. You started with nothing and built a legitimate business. It would almost be an honor to work with you, Mr. Kimber,” Tommy finished. You nearly laughed. If your hand didn’t hurt so bad, you might have. 

“Nobody works with me. People work for me,”  Kimber tossed. He pulled a coin out of his pocket and threw it on the floor. It landed a few inches from your face. “Pick it up, pikey.”

You saw John’s feet move, but Tommy hushed him. “Sit… Sit down.”

You made eye contact with Tommy as he picked up the coin. The look on his face was a mixture of worry and anger. You weren’t sure if the anger was directed at you or at Billy Kimber. “It’s for your ceiling.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kimber,” Tommy said politely as Kimber actually left this time.

“We will be at Cheltenham,” was the last thing the accountant said before he made his leave. 

“As will I,” Tommy replied. As soon as the coast was clear, Tommy sprung into action. He made his way around the table and wordlessly helped you up off the floor. 

“Jesus, Y/n. Are you alright?” John asked. 

You nodded. “Aside from a cut on my hand, I think I’m fine.”

Tommy quickly grabbed your hand and began looking over the injury. “John, go to the back of the bar and grab Harry’s first aid kit. I’ll patch up Y/n’s hand,” Tommy’s voice was even and low, but you could still feel the anger radiating off of him.

“I was just keeping our promise, Tommy,” you replied in a hushed tone. You did so almost so you wouldn’t spook a wild animal. 

It was years ago now, but you still remember it like it was yesterday—the day the boys were all drafted for the war. You were young then, barely 11 or 12, when the drafting officer came. You didn’t understand why they were taking all your brothers away from you, but it was breaking your heart. Your brothers were packing their things, and the officer was waiting in the doorway for them. “You can’t take all three,” you cried, “I won’t let you.”

The officer had a little bit of a heart and could see how much yours was breaking. “It’s not my choice, love. Your brothers have to fight for the king. Those are the rules. If I could, I would leave your family alone, trust me.” You didn’t know if he was saying that because he felt sorry for you or if it was because you were the Shelby clan. It didn’t really matter to you. John, Tommy, and Arthur were all being taken away from you for an unknown amount of time. You heard your brothers coming toward the doorway, and you used your body to block the way. 

You could see the sadness in Tommy’s eyes as he looked at you, “Y/n, we have to go.”

“But you can’t! What am I going to do without you here?”

“Aunt Pol is going to take great care of you; you always loved visiting her house,” Arthur chimed in. Tears began streaming down your face. You couldn’t hold them back any longer. 

“Now you’ve done it, Arthur, she’s cryin’,” John harped. 

“How was I supposed to know that’d make her cry?” He fired back.

“Hush it, the both of you,” Tommy said. He looked at his brothers briefly before focusing his attention on you. “We have to go, Y/n. We have to go fight for our country, but I promise you. We will come back. We will be a family again, but I need you to be strong for me, alright?” You nodded. “Thank you for standing up for us, but now it’s time for us to go.”

“I promise that I’ll keep standing up for you anytime you need it,” you said. You still had tears rolling down your face, but you stuck your pinkie out in front of you. 

Tommy knew what it meant without you saying anything, and he tossed you a soft smile as he gave you his pinkie. “And I will always look out for you.” Your fingers crossed, and you felt slightly better about the situation ahead. You still didn’t want your brothers to go, but at least they were promising to come back. 

Aunt Pol emerged from the depths of the house, followed by Ada. They both looked at you with sad expressions. “C’mon, Y/n, let the boys go,” Aunt Pol said. You looked up; you still weren’t ready for them to leave. 

“I don’t want them to go,” you said. 

Aunt Pol let out a long sigh and scooped you up from the doorway. You tried to worm your way out of her arms, but it was no use. She wasn’t going to let you go until the boys were long gone. 

“So you picked a fight with the Lees on purpose,” Arthur scolded, pulling you from your thoughts. “Tommy, we can’t mess with Billy fucking Kimber. Look what he did to our bloody sister.”

“Get yourself a decent haircut, man. We’re going to the races,” Tommy replied, taking a swig of the drink that Grace had originally poured for him. “And Y/n?��

“Yeah Tommy?”

“Next time we see Billy Kimber, you let me do all the talking, yeah?”

You smiled softly. “Not a chance in the world.”

-TO BE CONTINUED-

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