#it's the one that I photographed before the thomas fire

[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

a/n: midway through writing this, i realized it got too romantic, and then i changed my writing music and it suddenly all became clear looool here's your smut (even though i initially thought this fic was going to be way smuttier)

part 15: the king and his queen

word count: 2,831 tag: @bruhidkjustwannaread | @rubyxx16 | @immyowndefender

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Tommy sat in the office of the Garrison, cigarette in hand, staring at the reports spread across his desk. His expression was unreadable, but the sharp set of his jaw betrayed his tension. The fire at your bookshop had been days ago, but the fallout lingered like smoke in the air, thick and suffocating.

The door creaked open, and Arthur, John, Finn, and Michael filed in, their faces unusually grim. Arthur carried a small red notebook and what looked like a charred photo in his hand.

Tommy barely glanced up. “How bad was it?”

“There wasn't much we could do, Tom,” John said, his tone unusually subdued. "There were some books in the back that were saved, but the structure is lost."

Tommy’s eyes flicked to him, narrowing. “What else?”

Arthur stepped forward, dropping the photo and notebook onto Tommy’s desk. “Thought we might find somethin’ useful, but a lot of it was gone.” He hesitated, his usual bravado replaced with an uneasy edge. “Found this instead.”

Tommy reached for the photo first. It was warped at the edges from the fire, but the image was clear enough. He studied the man's features. Photographs usually told so little, but from this small glimpse of a face from your life—one he assumed had not resurfaced since your time in Birmingham—he found himself retreat. His usual firm hold on his emotions faltered at the sight of a man who could have meant so much to you.

Finn, standing off to the side, muttered, “Guessin’ that’s someone she cared about.”

Michael crossed his arms. “We found it in her desk. Buried under a pile of papers—like she didn’t want to see it but couldn’t bring herself to throw it away.”

Tommy turned the photo over, finding a date and a name scrawled in your handwriting: Ezra—1919.

“What else?” Tommy asked, his voice calm but commanding.

Arthur put his hand on the red notebook and slid it forward. "Haven't opened it yet, but it's hers."

Tommy ran his fingers over the leather. The temptation to pry it open and dive deeper into your thoughts coursed through his arm, but he resisted. He placed his hand down firmly on the journal with a heavy sigh. The last time he pried into your life, you met him head on. Unlike then, you wouldn't have expected anyone, let alone him, to see into the very depths of your soul. He didn't know why, but the thought unsettled him. He wondered when it had become such a priority to consider your privacy as something of importance.

Michael leaned forward, his voice sharp. “Should we try to find him?”

John tapped the photo. “Whoever he is, he meant something to her. For all we know, he's the cause of all this. Maybe he's involved.”

Tommy stared at the picture again, his mind working like clockwork. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s the reason she’s running.”

Finn frowned. “Think he’s dead?”

Tommy didn’t answer right away. His eyes lingered on the man—Ezra's face until the features had solidified in his mind. He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray, standing up and pocketing the photo. “I’ll talk to her.”

Arthur scoffed. “And if she doesn’t tell you?”

“She will." Tommy’s eyes were cold as steel. "In time. Don't tell her what you found. She's still healing.”

As the others filed out, Tommy stayed behind, his hand brushing over the photograph in his pocket. Whoever Ezra had been, whatever happened to him, Tommy knew it held the key to understanding your past. And perhaps, at last, everything would finally unravel.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The early evening light filtered through the tall windows of Arrow House, bathing the room in a golden glow. You sat in a plush armchair near the fire, a book balanced on your lap, though you hadn’t turned a page in some time. Your wounds had closed, and what remained was the budding presence of scars, ones that wouldn't soon fade. The physical wounds may have mended, but the ache beneath the surface lingered, more persistent than you wanted to admit.

The sound of footsteps drew your attention. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Tommy always walked with a deliberate purpose, a rhythm you’d come to recognize.

“Come to regale me with another story of a good day at the race?” you said without looking up, your voice tinged with dry amusement.

“Not today,” he replied, stepping into the room. “If those stories don't interest you, I will tell Arthur to stop.”

You chuckled, just loud enough for him to hear. “If that is what enthuses Arthur, then who am I to stop him? Better than him trying to watch me like an injured bird trying to take flight.”

Tommy moved to stand near the mantle, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as they studied you. The photograph of Ezra still lay safely in his pocket. He continuously tucked it away, convincing himself that now wasn't the right time to ask you. Eventually, it became routine to slip it back into his pocket in the hopes that it was finally time. His fingers toyed with its edges, the presence of your past trying to escape into the open.

But he couldn't. As the days past, you looked more and more at peace. You'd settled into a new routine. Finn brought books back to Arrow House, and while none of them knew what it actually was that you liked to read, they all started to recognize your true glimpses at contentment. Whether it was a book or a conversation that had no hint of duplicity, there was a part of you that was perfectly capable of what some considered to be a normal life. The possibility of shattering this and bringing you back into his world weighed heavier on his shoulders than he would have ever imagined.

Eventually, you grew used to his presence. You sighed from your place by the fire, gently massaging your shoulder. With one hand, you unbuttoned the first few inches of your shirt and eased the collar down to reach the ache. Tommy's eyes drifted to the newborn scar, but then his gaze wandered to your chest. Your breaths were soft and steady, a tempo that matched the ticking of the clock behind him.

“You're healing well." He broke the silence. Your eyes flickered up to him with a soft smile in acknowledgement.

“Like I said before,” you replied, closing the book and setting it aside. “I do not control how a body heals, even less so, my own.”

His lips twitched, almost a smile. With the slightest movement of your shoulder, Tommy found himself staring at the scar again, and, as if it were a reflex, he reached for his own. Now a part of his chest, he realized it was just like yours. Tommy’s eyes lingered on your face, searching for something beneath your composed exterior. You tilted your head to the side, eyes fluttering shut with a melodic hum.

No—not now. He couldn't ask you about Ezra now. This moment was so fleeting, and the second he asked, it would be gone forever. If only for today, he wanted to savor this—you both peacefully existing in the same room without any threats from the outside. It was a selfish decision, and he readily accepted that it was his own.

Tommy didn't know what he was doing when he approached you and reached for the scar, but as if sensing this was a gesture of curiosity, you let him. His fingers were warm and almost soothing as they ran over the fresh patch of skin like he was studying it.

For the briefest second, you tensed, your hand brushing absently over your side where the second wound lay tucked away. Tommy quietly retreated, but before he could step back, you grabbed his wrist and stood.

You let out a heavy breath, eyes shutting again in thought. Still holding his arm, you guided his hand to the buttons that were still clasped and nodded.

"You were a gentleman then," you nodded, mostly to yourself. "Telling Arthur and John to leave. I already felt... Exposed. Naked—just from the wounds alone and being seen like that. But, still, you told them to leave, so it wouldn't be so bad. Don't think I didn't notice, Tommy."

Tommy's fingers stayed on the top button like he was still processing if the gesture was an act of repayment or the giving of permission.

"If you need to see it for peace of mind, then you can," you whispered. The usual confidence in your tone dampened into a soft pitch.

He told himself he was doing this because he needed to see if you were telling the truth—that the wound had actually closed and was now just another scar. In reality, he didn't know his intentions. It could still have been a need, but it was one with weak conviction.

Tommy undid the rest of your shirt and parted it just enough to see the second scar. Your arms stayed relaxed at your sides, your face still but forlorn, as he touched the wound gently enough to make you shiver. He pressed the palm of his hand against your waist, firm and steadying.

He stepped closer, and your lungs filled with the scent that had accompanied you to dreams for many nights, always by your side. Tommy looked down at your as if he was silently seeking permission. Though, in truth, he didn't know what he was asking for.

As if seeing the war raging in his head, you reached for his neck and pulled him towards you. You rested your lips against his with a sigh—at last, feeling what you denied yourself weeks ago. Just a taste of him was enough, you told yourself. Just one.

Unlike then, he didn't move with urgency. He simply waited for you to make the decision. If it was just a kiss, then that's all it was. For once, he accepted this was out of his control.

You pulled back, eyes bearing into his with a seriousness one only experienced in the face of a choice that would not soon be presented again—or at all.

"Listen to me, Thomas Shelby," you whispered. Your stare commanded his to never tear away from yours as you spoke, insisting without words to hear you clearly because you wouldn't repeat yourself again. "I am not something to be won because I am earned."

Tommy's breath flitted across your skin as you spoke, and in your words, you showed him that your guard could go up at any moment. But for the moment, you were letting him acknowledge the mask of pain and power, one that only you possessed and chose to grace him with. The burden of understanding you wasn't not something easily given.

"If I give myself to you, I'm never taking any of it back." You spoke so firmly, the weight of your words forcing him to listen. "And if you give yourself to me, I am never letting you go."

He told you once that your purpose of being here would come out whether you dared to say it out loud or not. While you couldn't bring yourself to say this gently, you said it regardless.

"Every mistake you've ever made until now means nothing to me. But if this is a mistake—one you will come to regret, then tell me now. Tell me what you want." Your grip on his neck intensified with the slight twitch of your fingers. "That's why I'm here. That's why I made my choice. It scares you to crave, but it terrifies you to need. If you tell me now that I am a passing craving, then you've proved a point—that this was just business. But if you need me, all I want is for you to say it. And mean it."

It wasn't a threat. This was a declaration of self-preservation over the fantasy of possibilities.

For a moment, Tommy stayed silent.

He'd loved before, loved countless times to the point where it all might have been meaningless—just fleeting moments where he felt love, but it never lingered. And now, with your intentions finally out in the open, he understood. Your goal was to force him to experience it all—the pain and the loss. To be loved and respected. To choose to be alone no longer, and to understand what it meant to choose someone because he needed them and not because he wanted them for the moment.

You wanted him to face the inevitable—that loving someone wasn't a choice. But to love someone who was truly good for him, who didn't just love the idea of what he could be—that was a choice.

And he made his decision.

Tommy gripped your waist, sliding your shirt over your shoulders until it fell to the floor around your ankles. With a solitary sigh, he kissed you again, still as gentle as the first.

"I need you."

The words rang in your ears like an autumn breeze numbing summer's heat. And all at once, his lips found you again. His touch was tender, methodically moving in a way that still treated you as fragile beneath his fingertips. He carried you to the bed, his lips trailing down your neck, peppering you with kisses until all you felt was the need he'd suppressed for so long.

You sat up, taking his face in your hands. His eyes searched yours for permission, and with the soft nod of your head, his hands wandered your body, discovering and adventuring across your skin. He slipped his shirt off, and your eyes landed on the scar on his chest.

You reached for it, seeing in a different way how similar you both were. This was not an attempt to put the other back together, but a way to hold the broken pieces to the light and admire the sunlight between the cracks. To love the other earnestly and honestly, and to hope in desperation and the fear of never loving again.

Tommy watched you as you straddled him. You eased him into you with a long drawn out sigh, pressing your forehead against his. With one hand, he steadied your waist, guiding you as your hips moved, and with the other, he held your cheek with the gentle stroke of his thumb.

He sighed against your neck, groaning every time he slid inside you, the full length of him feeling the warmth of your walls. He admired you as you grinded into him, the last of your defenses crumbling down at his touch. There was no more need for words. Tommy let you take him in whatever way you desired. He didn't care if you were using him for your own pleasure. All that mattered was that you accepted his need, reciprocated with your own carnal desire to claim him.

Slowly, the mood changed. Your eyes darkened as it suddenly settled in that, together, this was something new. It wasn't just romance. It was the molding of the power you both held. Others only alluded that together, you and Tommy could set the world on fire—if that was what you desired. He held the match, and you soaked it with gasoline. At your command, he would set the world ablaze and build you a throne from the ashes and debris.

Tommy laid you back down on the bed and lowered himself in between your legs. He gripped your thighs, taking pleasure in how you writhed from the motions of his tongue. He hummed against your core, his mouth moving with an urgency that mimicked his need and hunger. You threw your head back with a gasp as his tongue plunged deep inside you, curling and pulling you against his face.

He pulled you closer, lapping up the dampness dripping down his chin. You gripped his hair, urging him to keep going until you felt that tug in the pit of your stomach. Your legs clenched, and with a guttural moan, you came until you twisted onto your stomach, riding the high as you spilled out onto the bed. Tommy positioned himself above you and slid back into your pulsing core. He eased himself inside you, taking a hold of your chest and holding you against him. He panted against your neck, his tongue dragging against your skin like no amount of your taste was enough. With a final thrust, he collapsed, his hips still grinding against you to draw out the ecstasy.

You panted, keeping a firm grip on the sheets until he was gentle once more. He kissed your shoulder with a sigh. Tommy's lips curled into a knowing grin, and you met his expression with equal satisfaction.

The game has changed with an entirely new board. The King has his Queen, and it was only a matter of time before the world would feel the ground rumble beneath their feet.

[lies]

Sometimes when I'm birdwatching

[peakyswritings]

Lullaby || Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: It’s been almost a year since (Y/n) has started to work as Charlie’s nanny. For the first time, she finds herself in the position of breaking one of her boss’ rules, but his reaction might not be what she was expecting.

Warnings: mentions of death, age-gap (it’s not specified, I imagine (Y/n) to be in her 20s).

A/N: this is a mix of two requests by anonymous. I changed them a little bit to make them fit another thing I was already planning to write. I hope you like it🤍 Also, I couldn’t restrain myself from using Once Upon a December from Anastasia as the lullaby (Y/n) sings.

Word count: 1.4K

MASTERLIST

Dividers credit

“C’mon, Charlie.” (Y/n) whispered with a soft voice, gently rocking the three-year-old. “It’s late, you need to sleep.”

Despite all her efforts, the child seemed to have no intention of going back to sleep. His cries resounded in the silence of the night, desperate, probably caused by a nightmare. It wasn’t the first time he woke up in the middle of the night, and surely it wouldn’t be the last. It was quite a common occurrence, but there was nothing surprising about that. At such a young age, Charlie Shelby had already been through so much pain.

(Y/n) had been Charlie’s nanny for almost a year now. She had moved to Arrow House shortly after the late Mrs Shelby, Charlie’s mother, had died under tragic circumstances. As for her boss, Thomas Shelby, she rarely saw him. He didn’t spend much time at home, and when he did, he locked himself in his study until it was time to go out again. Everyone could see that the man was still grieving, that the guilt of his wife’s death was eating at him day by day. And Grace Shelby was everywhere in that house. In the portraits, in the photographs, in the very air the people who lived there breathed. It was as if her ghost was still lingering inside those walls, restless.

Truth was, some part of (Y/n) was glad she didn’t have to see Mr Shelby too often. His cold eyes gave her chills, and she always felt small under his expectant stare. It felt like he could read right through people. But she couldn’t complain, because despite his exterior harshness and his coolness, he was kind to her. She figured the reason why was that Charlie had become fond of her right away, just like she had become fond of him.

On the other side, Thomas Shelby piqued her curiosity. He was a peculiar man, she had never met someone who even remotely resembled him. She knew who he was, what his family did, and before meeting him she was expecting to find herself in front of someone entirely different. When after putting an ad in the papers she received his secretary’s call, she had considered refusing. But the pay was good, and she needed to get out of her house, to be independent, and the general terms of her contract were to good to be ignored. So she mustered up the courage and attended the interview, and to this day, she could say she made the right decision. Charlie was lovely, the staff was friendly, and she felt relatively safe in a house surrounded by men who protected it night and day.

(Y/n) sighed, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was three in the morning. She had been trying to get Charlie to sleep for over an hour, but nothing seemed to work. She had tried everything: she had cradled him, given him water, she had even taken him to take a breath of fresh air in the garden for a while. It was all useless. There was just one thing she hadn’t tried, she hadn’t dared try, for if her boss found out he would probably fire her for breaking his rules. It was the first thing people would do to help a child fall asleep, and yet it was not allowed at Arrow House. Because Mr Shelby didn’t allow singing. But she was running out of options, and her boss was still out.

Just one song. One lullaby wouldn’t hurt anyone.

She hesitated, sending a look at the door of Charlie’s bedroom, then she quietly started to chant the lullaby her grandmother used to sing to her when she was a child.

“Dancing bears

Painted wings

Things I almost remember

And a song someone sings

Once upon a December”

Tommy closed the front door behind him, exhaling a deep breath. Another long day was over. However, not even the comfort of being home was enough to lift the weight pressing on his shoulders. Not anymore. It was always there, pushing down on him, waiting for him to bend, or to break. But he had to keep on marching, relentlessly, pretending that the burden wasn’t there.

He took off his coat and hanged it, trying to be as silent as possible in order not to wake the whole house up at that hour. As he walked further into the dark parlour, Charlie’s loud cries came to his ears. He was having troubles sleeping, again.

He made his way towards the stairway, squinting his eyes in the semi-darkness to see better, when something caught his attention. It was a voice, a soft, soothing voice singing a song upstairs.

Someone holds me safe and warm

Horses prance through a silver storm

Figures dancing gracefully across my memory

Tommy began walking up the stairs, step after step, drawn by the beautiful sound. He knew who that voice belonged to. (Y/n) was disobeying his orders, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be angry, far too fascinated. Soon Charlie’s cries faded, and the only thing that could be heard was her enchanting voice.

Far away

Long ago

Glowing dim as an ember

That hauntingly beautiful lullaby brought him back to over a year ago, when his late wife’s voice used to reverberate through the walls. Ever since her death, the silence had been haunting him, only broken by the echo she left behind.

Things my heart

Used to know

Things it yearns to remember

Tears welled up in Tommy’s eyes, but he was quick to push them back. He stopped at the entrance of is Charlie’s bedroom, watching as (Y/n) tenderly held the child in her arms, unaware of his presence. His son had finally fallen asleep, and the peaceful expression on his face reflected how safe he was feeling.

“And a song someone sings

Once upon a December”

She finished her song, and there was silence again. She placed Charlie back on the soft mattress and tucked him in, careful not to wake him up again. When she turned to leave the room, causing their eyes to meet, fear dawned on her young features. It was clear she wasn’t expecting to find him there. For a few seconds, neither of them did nor said anything. Then, as if remembering where she was, (Y/n) slowly exited the room, closing the door behind her. Her arm accidentally brushed against him in the process, the contact almost burning through his shirt. As they stood face to face in the hallway, she avoided his gaze, probably waiting for him to scold her, or fire her, or something worse. And a question popped into Tommy’s mind. Was she that scared of him?

(Y/n)’s heart was racing inside her chest as her boss’s unreadable gaze rested on her. She had never found herself in the position to fear him, nor had she ever had a reason to, but she had never broke any rule before, or crossed any line. And she had no idea how he would react to disobedience. The last thing she wanted was to get on the gangster’s bad side.

“It was a nice song.” His low voice pulled her out of her thoughts, making her gulp. Suddenly, she realised how close they were.

“Mr Shelby, I…” she stuttered, taking a step back. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, shifting her eyes on the ground, finding it way more comfortable to face him without having to look at his impassive expression. “It’s just… nothing was working, and…” she started to ramble, but the words got stuck in her throat. “It won’t happen again.”

Tommy didn’t say anything. He just looked at her, studying her, and his calmness made her even more nervous, for it made him unpredictable. Then something changed in his eyes. His features softened, and she could swear his lips curved into a small smile. “Go to sleep, (Y/n).”

She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it right away. He wasn’t angry? He wasn’t going to fire her? Was it an emotion, the one that had just broken through his ever-unfazed face? She blinked, trying to recollect herself, deciding that it would be better to listen to him before he changed his mind.

“Goodnight, Mr Shelby.” She politely said, before walking past him to go to her room.

“(Y/n).” He called her, making her stop in her tracks. She turned around, her nervousness coming back again as she waited for him to speak.

“You’re allowed to sing, if you want.”

Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

[drnikolatesla]

X-Ray Image Taken By Nikola Tesla (1896)

Though not widely known, Nikola Tesla spent a great deal of time intensively researching X-rays, publishing his results during the period between March 11, 1896 to August 11, 1897. He also gave a lecture on April 6, 1897 presenting designs of several different devices that could generate these powerful rays. During this lecture, he shared similar data and conclusions from his earlier experiments with Crookes tubes in 1894. Crookes tubes were invented by British scientist William Crookes in order to study electrical discharges in vacuum tubes. During Tesla’s experiments in 1894, he observed that some of the tubes that produced only feeble visible light had more effect on photographic plates than tubes which were brighter. Since it was obvious that there must be some kind of energy coming from the tubes with feeble light, and their properties were still unknown, Tesla used the term “radiant matter" to describe these radiations. With these tubes, Tesla produced some of the first X-ray imaging, which he called “shadowgraphs,” due to their dark nature, but still did not realize the importance of these radiations. To him, the photographs taken seemed to be spoiled due to unaccountable marks and defects. In March of 1895, a fire broke out in his laboratory, destroying practically all of his equipment and experimental data to date. It took several months before he could resume his work, and in the meantime, a German scientist named Wilhelm Röntgen made his X-ray discovery in the same year (December, 1895). Roentgen first detected the radiation by accident in his experiments where he was testing whether cathode rays emitted from Crookes tubes could pass through glass, and or other solid objects, but was astonished to find that the rays emitted would pass through thinner objects and leave shadows of the more solid objects behind (such as with skin and bones). When Tesla heard this news, it was immediately obvious to him what had been problematic in his laboratory work. Realizing and regretting that he had missed out on making a major scientific discovery, Tesla would say, “I realized that my guiding spirit had again prompted me and that I had failed to comprehend his mysterious signs.” He repeated Röntgen's experiments, and came to much better results than Röntgen and others since he had his newly developed Tesla Coil. With this apparatus, he immediately realized the importance of high voltages for producing powerful rays and suggested using his newly developed single-terminal tubes and connecting them to the secondary coil of the transformer. In 1896, Röntgen acknowledged Tesla’s discoveries and in a lecture before the Physical Medical Society in Wurzburg, Germany, discussed the advantage of using Tesla’s high-frequency transformer in generating X-rays. Tesla would also become one of the first scientists to point out the harms of these rays and developed safer ways to utilize them for medical use. Methods we still use today. On the other side of town, others like Thomas Edison thought these newly discovered rays could cure the blind. Many patients who were experimented upon starting showing terrible illnesses, one being his assistant who later had to have both arms amputated. Edison was quoted in an interview saying, “Don’t talk to me about X-rays…I am afraid of them.”

Nikola Tesla would later give all credit to Röntgen for the discovery, and throughout the next few years, produced some of the best X-ray imaging that even Röntgen praised. In a letter to Tesla, Röntgen wrote, “Dear Sir! You have surprised me tremendously with the beautiful photographs of wonderful discharges, and I tell you thank you very much for that. If only I knew how you make such things!”

[wutheringcaterpillar]

An Unfair Loss

Summary: Thomas realizes that his results were switched with yours, and you had developed the curse Ruby had.

-Based off season 6 finale.

-Kinda proofread, kinda didn't. I feel like this was kinda rushed but I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mention of suicide

Gun to his temple, he cocked it, ready to fire until he heard an all too familiar voice, his little Ruby.

Looking out into the field of green, he saw his baby girl running toward him with her small legs. He met her halfway pulling her into his warm embrace.

“Did Aunt Polly send you? Oh it feels so wonderful to have you in my arms one last time.” Tommy was panting, and the little girl held him tight so he knew she was really there before she spoke.

“You’re not even sick daddy.”

“But I am my darling. I’m closer to death as we speak.” The child shook her head vigorously, looking in the distance before turning back to her dad.

“No daddy not true, you’ve got to live, for Y/N.” Thomas’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not understanding what she was trying to say.

“What do you mean? Her exams came back clean Ruby. What do you-“ She guided her arm to the side, her hand pointing over at the fire. Thomas followed her gaze.

“It’s in the papers daddy. I’ve got to go.” She hugged her father once more, before vanishing in the distance in the field of grass and scattered flowers. Tommy watched, wishing that he had been faster, and had been a better dad in not putting business first but his family first. He wasn’t sure that he was doing that now, since he rushed off not telling you or anyone else where he was going, but he was sure that everyone assumed what he set off to do.

The corner of the paper flowed in the wind underneath the piles of sticks on top of them. His daughter may have been young, but deep down Thomas knew she was smart, far too brilliant for her age, so who was he to doubt her.

Standing up on his feet, his legs felt like jelly as he made his way over to the pit. He picked up the ripped page, eyeing it conspicuously. He took note of Oswald and his wife, and then looked at the bigger picture, and what he saw he couldn’t believe. His doctor, whom he trusted with his own health, was standing next to them in a photograph.

“Son of a bitch.” He didn’t waste one moment before he began to run on foot to the man’s house.

Alfred turned to get in his car, that was not working. “What the hell, how did-“ When he went to close the door Thomas’s arm was wrapped around his neck while he pointed the gun at the side of his temple. Alfred stumbled in his grip, trying to get out but Tommy was far too strong for him to take on.

“You’ve been my doctor for three years now, didn’t realize how well connected you were Alfred. You made me believe I was going to die soon, and knew that I’d rather off myself. Made me believe my wife was in good health. That’s me assuming that’s who you switched my results with eh?” He tightened his grip around the man’s small, fragile throat, making his voice strained when he responded.

“Ye-Yes.”

Thomas forced him onto the hard ground on his knees, while at a fast pace me moved his gun toward the front of the scared man’s face, resting it upon his forehead and cocking it.

“Wait! Wait! You and your wife are both sick. The amount of people you have killed in cold blood and the both of you just stood by, not explaining yourselves to the grieving families.” Tommy rolled his eyes in response, hardening the gun to the man’s head.

“But- but, I think because of your children and your family, you are a changed man. You’re not going to shoot me Tommy.” A dark chuckle escaped from Tommy’s plush, pale lips.

“You see that’s where you’re wrong I am. I’m a changed man until it involves my fucking wife, and my fucking children, Alfred.” In an instant, the echo of his gun firing swam through the neighborhood. People looked through their windows to see what had happened but immediately escaped their windows once they realized it was Thomas Shelby.

Patting down his suite, he exited the property, and walked back to the home he shared with you.

As he walked in the quaint weather, he couldn’t help but watch kids running around, and notice happy families. Why was it he never got to be happy? Grace was taken away, Lizzie was too much, but you? He had never seen a woman be such an amazing mother to his children or treat him the way you did. He knew it was unfair of him to run off on you, not saying a word but he was trying to protect you in not seeing him wither away. Who knew it would be him having to watch you slowly deteriorate.

-

“Mummy! Mummy! Daddy’s home?” Charlie heard her and came rushing down the stairs to look out the window.

“Milly we’ve talked about this he-“ You were cut off by the sound of the door opening. You stopped putting away the laundry and approached the living room quickly. Maybe someone had news of Thomas’s whereabouts, or worse maybe he was dead.

When you passed through the doorway, you felt like you were looking at a ghost, a panicked ghost at that. There your husband stood, like nothing had happened and everything was okay. He was still dressed in his suit but looked like he was rummaging through his mind conflicted and pained.

“Tommy?”

“Yes, my love.” You couldn’t stop yourself from running to him and jumping in his arms, hugging him. He smelt like he had been drinking combined with a hint of grass on his clothes. Your arms being wrapped around him once again felt surreal, and warm. You felt complete and couldn’t stop the water brimming at your eyelids, it had been weeks since you touched him, or seen him and your whole body couldn’t find the will to let go of him, not again.

He patted your back soothingly as he watched Charlie and Milly over your shoulder, they had looked confused as to why you would be crying but happy. He felt terrible watching their innocent eyes, and knowing what he knows now about your inevitable death that was soon to come, and it scared him of the thought he’d be the only parent they had, once again.

“It’s okay, it’s alright. I’m here now darling, I’m not going anywhere ever again, eh?” You nodded into the crook of his dampened neck; your tears had soaked. Tommy was glad they were joyful tears, but he knew that his news would change everything momentarily.

“Charlie, Milly, can you go upstairs I need to talk to your mum privately. I’ll be up in a moment, alright?” You sunk down from his grip and wiped away your tears, looking up at him with those loving, endearing eyes that always managed to brighten his day.

He guided you to the table, taking a seat next to you and folding his hands. When you looked at him he looked, lost like you’d never seen him before but you waited patiently to talk. His hand grazed across to the wooden table before it rest on top of yours, intertwining his fingers.

“My darling, you’re sick, very sick.” You looked at him confused, not catching onto what he meant.

“Ruby visited me today, I think Pol sent her. I left to kill myself and she stopped me, she stopped me and made realize Alfred’s intentions. I’m unsure of if you’ve been reading the paper but there is a photo of him standing with Mosley. I found him and he admitted to switching our results.” Realization sat in, and you leaned back against the chair in defeat. It explain why you’ve not been feeling well, why you’ve been hearing things, seeing things that had no explanation. A part of you had convinced yourself it was because you were adjusting the the thought of Thomas being dead.

“I- But how did-“ He tightened his grip on your hand, pursing his lips together as he had felt he had failed in being the man he was meant to be for you. If he had just not taken the easy way out and disappearing, if he had paid closer attention to the small details before Ruby had gotten sick this could have been avoided.

Thomas felt as if he was breaking at the seams. How did he not see it, how did he miss all the signs?

His heart was breaking inside as he watched you sitting across the table, head buried in your hands while you cried a river. You didn’t want him to see you like this, so weak, and broken.

“Oh god the kids, they-they’ve seen me like this, they’ve been seeing me like this. I don’t want them to anymore. I -I can’t bear the thought of them finding me-“ You couldn’t find the ability to complete that sentence.

Milly and Charlie meant the world to you, and it was hard enough losing Ruby and Thomas, well Thomas had lost everyone and here you sat being added to the list.

“Darling, you know as well as I do there is no cure for a gypsy curse.” It had taken you quite a while to understand Thomas’s upbringing, but you had always put in the time and effort to ask questions, and take interest. Throughout the years being married to him, you didn’t have a doubt in your mind about there being no cure if Thomas said there wasn’t. You never questioned him after Ruby.

-

Tommy’s pov

-

Tonight was an awful night, and I had never felt more weak than I did now. I watched her as she lay in bed, her skin was pale, lips cracked. She was shivering, and she had lost the ability to remember things. I had asked her just the other day if she knew where she was, she didn’t. Somehow, someway she managed to remember the childrens names, but not that she was Milly’s mum, or that Charlie considered her as a mum. Do you know what that does to a man?

Watching your wife slowly wilt away and lose her sanity. Not being able to do anything about it. It’s gut wrenching and it was a pain I had never felt before. I often found when she needed something I would escort myself out of the room, check on the children, and find a place to shed my tears where no one could see, I wanted to be strong for her, for them.

Y/N, has sacrificed her entire life in watching over them, making sure they were fed, clothed, bathed, and taught the simplicities of life. Yet she still always found the time and the effort for our marriage. She worked wonders, and is very bright, brighter than the moon on a clear, quiet night. The amount of weight she had lost from not eating. My wife looked unrecognizable but still beautiful as always.

The delusions had gotten worse, she began to hallucinate at dinner, and the children saw it.

“Who are you people, where am I?” I watched as fear settled within her wide eyes.

“Y/N darling-“ She stood up from the table frantically, searching for a familiar face, and looking at the people she didn’t recognize. She took the glass of water from the table and threw it at the painted wall, shattering it into a million little pieces, making the kids jump in their seats.

I pushed the chair back rushing over to her before she hurt herself or someone else in this room.

That’s when she turned slowly, almost with what seemed like a dead gaze before her arm slowly extended until it pointed toward the empty hallway. I followed her gaze, freezing in my tracks not wanting to frighten her. There was nothing there.

“He’s here.” I looked back to her with calm eyes, hands out so she knew I wouldn’t do anything to her.

“Honey, there’s nothing there.” She shook her at a vigorous rate, disagreeing with me and she began to back into the wall as I approached her with ease.

“Daddy what’s wrong with mummy?” What was I supposed to say to them? That their mother’s delusional, they had already known she was falling of illness. I glanced over to them quickly while my hands rested on Y/N’s flailing wrists.

“Charlie, Milly go to your rooms.” They hadn’t moved, and Milly began to cry.

She was too young to understand at her ripe age of two years old. I looked at Charlie with expectant eyes. I depended on him and I didn’t mean to put all the weight on his shoulders to look after Milly but what choice did I have when I had to take care of their mother, my wife. A man can only handle so much at one time.

“Charlie! Go with Milly, now!” Charlie jolted up out of his seat, grabbing Milly in his arms before running up the stairs with her. Once I heard the door close my attention averted back to Y/N. I watched as she was struggling for air and still screaming at the top of her lungs, her body shaking. I gripped her wrists as I felt that being calm maybe was not the best decision to get across to her that no monster, no ememy, nothing was in the room. Just me, her husband. It killed me withing  knowing that this was something I had no control over, I couldn’t offer her protection from her own mind.

“Y/N! Look at me!” She stayed frantic and I began to shake her gently.

“Hey! It’s alright! It’s alright! Nothing’ there! Look, please my love!” She shook her head vigorously for a moment more before she opened her eyes once I rested my hands on her warm cheeks. Hesitantly, she peered her frightened eyes open, looking up at me for reassurance that it was safe. I nodded to her, and she must have still had an ounce of trust in me as she cautiously poked her head around my shoulder.

She released a held in breath, and began to cry one more as her body collapsed against my chest.

“I’m tired Tommy. I’m tired, I’m-I’m scared.” She hiccupped, and I began to brush my fingers through her hair as I held the back of her head.

“I just want everything to end, to go away. I can’t do this anymore.” Her back was spasming, and her first was clutched into my shirt, holding on for dear. She was ready to let go, she had given up but the problem was, this curse wasn’t that easy to put to an end. It would take you when it was ready, it didn’t care how broken down she was, this curse was about pain, suffering, breaking down a person to their lowest level. I knew at that moment the end was beginning and it was far nearer than I was ready for.

“I know darling. I know.” I couldn’t tell her to keep fighting, what point would that contain? There was no cure for this curse, and I wish I could find one, because until then I must watch my wife die slowly and cruelly.

I held her in my arms as she shivered and sweated at the same time. “Y/N, I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” You didn’t nod or anything showing a response to him. The delusions that began a few weeks ago made you question whether Thomas was even your husband, if you even knew who this man holding you was at times. Fear fulfilled you but you found it best not to move and lay there limp as your body was in indescribable pain.

2 Weeks Later

It was a Wednesday when she had passed in my arms.

A small shimmer of sunlight had peaked between the curtains from the morning sky, settling on her still beautiful face. I combed a strand of hair behind her hair, admiring her perfect face before I had realized.

“Y/N?” She didn’t speak in return, and out of disparity I pulled her body in between my arms, embracing her now lifeless body, unable to hold back tears. They came flooding out, running down my cheeks, soaking the thin shirt she had been wearing, I had never felt more vulnerable and lost in my entire being. This was a loss I wasn’t prepared for. Nobody is truly prepared for death, but I wept. I wept and for once I prayed, I prayed that our children did not hear me.

I wasn’t ready to confront them, how was I supposed to tell Milly her mom was gone, how was I supposed to tell Charlie that now his second mother, was dead. My heart went out to our children, they were well behaved, innocent, and just so young and oblivious to the troubles of being an adult. Bless their heart. They were great kids, but I owe it all to you, my dear Y/N.

I telephoned Ada, settling my breath and trying to regain composure. She had answered right away.

“Thomas.” I sniffled in response, brushing away the snot that coated my skin with my sleeve.

“Ada, she’s gone.” The line was silent, assuming she was trying to think of something to make me feel better or make this process easier. I looked back at my wife once more and tried to tell myself, she was sleeping peacefully, it’s an odd feeling that’s indescribable when faced with your dead spouse, just completely still. It had felt like her soul and her being had already left the room, already making the house feel strange to me.

“I’ll be right over. Tommy, I’m so sorry.” I nodded to myself, once again being lost for words and hung up the phone. Should I lay here with her until Ada gets here? Should I go inform Charlie and Milly now? But if I do that, would they try to break into the room? Would they start crying and screaming to see you? Should they see you? My mind was roaming every which way, how do I know what do? You were always the smart one in our marriage.

The children didn’t understand, and I was grateful that Polly tended to Milly and Charlie while I arranged the funeral exactly how Y/N had wanted it.

The venue was closed casket, she did not want a gypsy funeral and she didn’t want the children to see her in that way. It was a close knit group of friends and family per her request in the backyard of the fortress we had built together.

I had the children at my side, dressed in black, and I had Ada braid Milly’s hair as she complained endlessly about it. That was when I saw my dear friend Alfie

“Thomas she was a wonderful woman, she cared for you and understood you inside and out, in a way I don’t think anyone ever has. Sometimes life has chosen to take people from us, and we can never understand why, eh? I nodded, still holding Charlie and Milly’s hands.

“Just know she’s in a better place mate? Alright?” I nodded in response and escorted the children toward the casket. I couldn’t help but feel my breath hitch in my throat, knowing she was in there, a part of me wanted to look but I wouldn’t as I wanted to respect her wishes.

The funeral began, everyone gathering in a small circle. Alfie spoke nothing but kind words and cracked a few jokes here and there to lighten the moods of not only the adults but the kids. It couldn’t stop the feeling of loss everyone had felt. As each person spoke, I realized it was now my turn. I gave Charlie and Milly a hug before I had spoke.

“Where can I even begin to honor this amazing woman. She gave me life, love, laughs, all the things I didn’t think were possible after I came home from the war. She struck something within me as she did to all of us. Her parenting skills and the patience she carried were beyond belief, and beyond anything I could be capable of. She made me learn that life isn’t about losing or winning, it’s not about money or business deals. It’s about family, being there for each other through a difficult time and I want to thank every one of you who came and-“

“Daddy can I say something?” Charlie spoke up interrupting me and my thoughts. I cued him to go ahead.

“Y/N might not have been my mom, but I loved her, and I hate that she’s gone. Life’s not fair, and I wonder why I can’t ever have a mom, but Y/N taught me that life works in mysterious ways and it’s okay to be sad sometimes, it’s what you do with that sadness that matters.” I felt my tears brimming at the rim but clenched my jaw, holding back my emotions for everyone here. I bent down and hugged Charlie telling him how well he did. Milly was in tears and I picked her up into my arms, cradling her before I excused myself into the house with them as I felt we needed a moment alone to be a family.

Later that night…

Once I tucked the children into bed and everyone had left, I felt lost. The person I shared my life with wasn’t home anymore and would never be again.

I closed the bedroom door and locked it. I can’t understand or find the meaning behind Y/N’s life coming to an end so soon. I weakly, opened the bottle of wine that sat atop the dresser while my mind was beginning to go frantic. I didn’t know the kids schedules like you, I didn't know what they liked to eat and what not or even if they were allergic to anything. What if I hospitalize them, or they get hurt on my watch in the way that Y/N and Ruby both did. What if I can’t protect them? How am I supposed to raise Charlie and Milly on my own when I don’t even know these little things about them because of business.

Cracking open the bottle I spilled the sweet alcohol down my throat, it’s taste quenching my nerves but it wasn’t enough. I needed more, as if it could replace the void in my heart.

I found myself rummaging through the drawers, tears brimming at the sight of her clothes lying next to mine but I stopped when I noticed a piece of paper, hanging out of one of her pockets.

“My dear Thomas,

                Don’t be sad, we knew the day would come sooner or later. It may feel like there is no reason to move forward but there is. Look after Charlie and Milly, they need their father, and they love you very much. Remind them every day that I am with them in their hearts, as I am with you. I wouldn’t trade our story for the world because you, Thomas Shelby, complete me. You’ve grown so much, and improved, you put your family first over business though it took quite some time, but you made that change for us. Don’t lose sight of who we are, who you are and what we’ve built. I know you’re scared but I believe in you Tommy, as I always have since day one. Before everything went wrong and I lost my mind I wrote down everything you could possibly be unsure about of the kids schedules, their meal times, doctors. Etc. You’ve got this my love, I promise you, you guys are going to be okay and I will still be around even if you don’t see me.

                                Love Dearly,

                                                Y/N”

I hung my head in disbelief, I don't know where I'd be or where to begin without Y/N. She seems to always think of everything, and every possible situation. I love her dearly, and I could never imagine re marrying or being with another woman after her.

[your-nanas-house]

Thomas Shelby or William killick masterbating to a sexy letter you sent them during the war

Fuck....yes. Love it, thank youuu 🥺

A promise

◇ Pairing: William Killick X fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, masturbation, age gap (they are both adults), nude photo/erotic letter

◇ Summary: William receives a letter from his best friend's daughter.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

'Dear Mr Killick (William),

How are you? How's life going there? Here everything is fine. I went out with my friends today and Sandra told me something interesting about soldiers.

That's why I'm writing this letter for you, to be sure that you are okay and to gift you what she called a bit of love...'

William's eyes continued to read the letter, sitting in a secluded area; he knew that Y/n, his best friend's daughter, didn't know exactly what she was doing with those shared taboo words but he didn't really cared.

It just put more fuel to the fire he was feeling inside of his, a fire that made his blood rush down to his cock— thanks to the mere thought of her innocent self.

As William kept reading the letter, a blurry photo fall down into his lap, his icy eyes stopped on it and he nearly came just by the sight.

It was a photo of Y/n undressed, her face was blurry but he could clearly see her innocent eyes and marvelous body facing him.

He undid his belt and opened in a quick motion his pants, pulling out his leaking cock, his hand wrapped around it to squeeze it teasingly before starting to spread his precum— his eyes focused on the picture and the letter.

William spit on his hand before starting to jerk himself off, his guilt hidden inside him, crushed by the most primitive thoughts

"Fuckin' hell, honey—" he moaned, biting his bottom lip when he increased the pace, imagine Y/n there with him

"Jesus Christ— love, yesyesyes!" William continued, reaching slowly his climax while he kept looking at the picture, his breath becoming heavier and heavier

"'M going to fucking breed you, love!" He promised, shooting his load on Y/n's photographed boobs.

William calmed his breath, cleaning slowly the photo to put it in a secret place, lying back down to read one last time the letter before going back to what he was doing.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj , @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter , @mrkdvidal1989

[heavencanbeaprisontoo]

Imagine being Jack Nelson's Trusted Secretary

Jack Nelson x Reader

Slight!Thomas Shelby x reader

Summary: Being Jack Nelson's secretary comes with some lovely perks... But also some unfortunate assumptions about your morals.

You had been Mr. Jack Nelson's secretary for years now. Out of all his secretaries, you had stayed the longest and were the only one to abstain from sleeping with him. Not for his lack of trying, mind you. The fact that you were still unmarried and single was a crime in his eyes. You were a pretty young thing, all doe-eyed and red-lipped. Jack used to make you blush with his sweet talk. All those days he'd brush by you and say, "The smell of your perfume in the morning is better than coffee, sweetheart."

Over time, his flirtations stopped being shocking. He wasn't a pig, thank God, but Mr. Nelson could not resist a bit of cheeky banter with you. Asking you, "When are you going to make me the happiest man alive and let me take you dancing?" to which you would reply, "Never, sir."

No matter how familiar he acted with you, you made sure to keep your distance. He had never been inside your apartment. You would decline gifts if they were too extravagant (though they still ended up on your porch). Still, regardless of you keeping the relationship strictly professional, rumors happen. The other girls in the office would see how his hand sat on your lower back. Men he would meet with noticed how his eyes followed you as you crossed a room. People heard how he would speak to you: "There's my guardian angel!" - "The red lipstick again? Please, you know I can't act right when you wear the red." - "Tell me my schedule again. No, I heard you, I just like to hear you read. Your voice soothes me."

No matter what he said or did, you remained calm. Sometimes batting his hand away or chiding him like a mischievous boy. That only seemed to rile him up more.

That was how you two had always been. With Mr. Nelson being a shameless flirt and you putting him down in the most professional (but direct) way possible. Even if you had called him an asshole, Jack probably wouldn't have fired you. Not after he realized how smoothly his life ran with you behind the scenes. You had a great mind for remembering names, dates, and how he knew people. Jack was a sociable guy, popular too. He tended to forget who exactly people were and wasn't always graceful in those interactions. To his associates, criminal or otherwise, Jack had a photographic memory. Because you were whispering names into his ear. Jack never missed an appointment with you around either. You were his lucky charm, which was why he had to bring you to England with him.

Enter Mr. Shelby.

Jack had brought you around hundreds of men before, many of whom had tried to flirt with you. Thomas Shelby had been the first to make you blush. It was a simple thing. Thomas and Jack sat down for their meeting and Jack had asked, "A light, doll?" You went over to him with your match and he smiled at you as he took his first puffs. Tommy held up his cigarette as a silent request.

As you leaned down to him to light his cigarette, his pale eyes bore into yours. You tried the strike a match for him and the stick was a dud. After three more tries to light a second, his hands took yours. He lit the match and exhaled smoke from the corner of his mouth. You sputtered an apology and when you turned back around Jack saw your cheeks flush. His good mood was gone.

The meeting went on until Tommy decided to push a bit further. And here was where that old assumption came back to rear its head.

"I was surprised, Mr. Nelson, to find that you would bring your wife and mistress on the same boat. More surprised that you would set both women up in the very same hotel. I take it they're aware of each other?"

Jack's cigarette paused in its journey to his lips. His brow furrowed as he thought, 'Mistress?' He hadn't had a consistent lover in a few years now. Between entertaining his wife, he kept his bedmates fresh and on a frequent rotation. Jack followed Thomas' eyes, and found them set on you as you flipped through your ever-growing booklet of contacts. Feeling eyes on you, you raised your head and blinked owlishly, "Pardon?"

Mr. Nelson waved a hand, "Don't worry about it sweetheart. Go take a break, you've earned some time with your heels propped." You started to complain that you should be there to take notes, Jack would hear none of it, "I mean it, go relax."

You sighed and exited the room. Jack felt almost relieved. He wouldn't correct Mr. Shelby. Not tonight. Not with the way his eyes had followed you as you went out the door. And especially not after he said, "I've never seen the appeal of American women. They always seemed loud, attention-seeking... garish. I can see not all fit the mold."

"Oh, she's not always so meek. She's just on her best behavior," Jack forced back on his cavalier persona. Too little too late. Thomas Shelby was a shark and there was blood in the water. He went in for the kill.

There was a glint to Mr. Shelby's eye, "I think I'd like to see what she looks like when she's behaving badly. I've a weakness for red lipstick."

Jack's knuckles were turning white as he gripped the arm of his chair with his left hand, "Let's get back to our previous discussion, huh?"

"Of course."

[yespleasetommyshelby]

Tommy Shelby x reader - Tangled

Hi guys! It's been a bit of a while but I have an idea, I'm planning on doing a tangled reboot with the one and only Thomas Shelby, the first part is written but before I carry on I'd like to know if there's any interest!

Enjoy this first part and let me know!

---

"Shit." Tommy puffed out as he rested his back against the tree, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, a meeting with a potential business partner turned to shit leaving the Birmingham gangster running through the some fucking woods with a hound on his trail. "Fuck!" He growled, quickly spinning round to fire three shots toward the sprinting black creature that was heading his way, the first two missing while the third hit its intended target, the poor dog falling to the floor without as much as a whine. A clear headshot, tommy wasn't looking to make the dog suffer, it didn't chose its owner, he supposed.

Finally feeling as though he had caught his breath he became aware of his surroundings and how unfamiliar they were. Each direction filled with nothing but darkness, the shadows lurking in between the rays of moonlight keeping his eyes sharp, not looking to be caught out right not, exhausted and now unarmed Tommy who wished for nothing more than being back home at Watery Lane, with nothing but the shovels and his pipe to chase them away. But no, he had to refuse Polly's warnings about a traitor and carried on his merry way, fucking idiot.

Breathing a sigh of relief Tommy appeared from between the trees stepping out into a small opening that was cleared of trees, looking around cautiously before he stumbled his way up the steps towards the little brown cabin that stood within the clearing, surrounded by trees it was almost as if the small cabin was on an island of its own, surrounded by a moat of colourful flowers, more colours than he had ever seen on the streets of small Heath. His red knuckles closed around the door handle as he pushed open the door without a knock, not needing an invitation as he stepped into the home before shutting the door quietly behind him, keeping his eyes and ears open for anything that shifted in the silent home, the only light coming through the small window in what looked to be the kitchen, the other three doors closed.

"Hello?" His hoarse voice called, waiting for any kind of response whether it be words or even a slight noise, but all he got was nothing, not a peep. A strange feeling in his chest he reached up and took his cap in his hand, mindful to not touch the sharp edge of the razor that was sown into the rim of his cap for situations just like this, grabbing hold of the door handle to his left he quickly threw the door open while clenching his cap, ready to attack if necessary only to be met with nothing. An empty sitting room, nothing but a sofa, a chair, a coffee table and a cabinet with a gramophone on the top, along with some more colourful flowers in various vases around the room.

Without getting stuck on how basic the room seemed to be, he moved on, closing the door behind him as he went to the second door taking a breath before he pushed the door open, cap clenched in his fist.

"Nothing." He whispered, the feeling in his chest growing heavier as he stepped out and moved towards the last room, he clenched his fist as he pushed the door open, the basic necessities of a bedroom coming into view, a small picture sitting in the window directly in front of him, Tommy couldn't help his curiosity as he stepped forwards, his hold on his cap now softened in the knowledge that he was alone in the cabin.

Or so he had assumed - as his hand reached out to the silver frame, his eyes fell on the photo inside, a young couple holding hands as they posed for the photographer, the woman's flowing white dress giving away the ceremony, a wedding. With his attention on the smiling couple, a good few years ago now he would've guessed by the yellowish hue the photo held, he failed to hear the slight creak the floor board made as she stepped out from behind the door he'd opened, frying pan raised in the air, the huff of air she releases as she swings the pan towards the back of his head alerting him of her presence too late before the darkness consumed him.

The young girl panted as she stepped around the now motionless body that laid on her bedroom floor, the picture frame he held being slid across the floor with her foot as she held the pan out infront of her, just incase he suddenly sprang back to life, she'd never done this before - you know, possibly killing someone with a frying pan. Giving his foot a slight nudge with her so she held her breath as she waited for any signs that he was awake, realising that he wasn't going to be moving any time soon she let out a breath of air dropping the frying pan onto the bed besides her before throwing her head back in frustration.

"For fucks sake."

- End of Part One -

[ferlost]

The atmosphere suddenly shifted.

Thomas, Edward, and Henry felt their joints seize up as the rails shifted beneath their wheels. For but a moment they thought it was an earthquake, but the sound of strained and grating steel was unmistakable. Their eyes fell to Gordon who still sat there between them, his whole frame shaking so badly it caused the ground to shudder.

Attentively, Henry caught a glimpse of the great engine's face - a horrid yet undecided expression, somewhere lost between misery and rage until Gordon's boiler pressure had all but buried every needle and gauge in his cab. His fire surged.

With a violent lurch, Gordon let loose a frightening bellow - vicious and raw and dug up from somewhere so deep below the surface that one would have thought only a bolt of lightning could have traveled fast enough to reach his lips in time as he cried out,

"BALDERDASH!"

The very foundations of Tidmouth shook as if rocked by mighty explosion.

"NONSENSE AND LIES, ALL OF IT! I REFUSE TO HEAR ANY MORE OF THESE VILE JOKES! GET THIS INFERNAL THING OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

In an instant, the sheds were suddenly filled with a fiery red cloud of smoke. Hot cinders and ashes spewed from Gordon's funnel and slipped through his teeth like arcs from a live wire.

The precious photograph was torn away from him as swiftly as was those within it - and it tumbled through the air before disappearing behind a veil of smoke and sparks.

part 6/x

[rolesplay]

・┆✦ON MOURNING — a zayne & fmc fanfic.

Everything feels like a nightmare. It would have been easier if she could cry.

She hadn’t attended a funeral visitation in years. In fact, she doesn’t even remember attending one, ever.

But here she was, having to arrange Grandma’s and Caleb’s. Captain Jenna forcefully put her in a leave, and she couldn’t exactly say no to her boss.

So she stayed. In a small room at the funeral parlor, with only photographs of the deceased—because the explosion and the fire were so bad and nothing was left of her childhood home.

She sat there, received people who offered her condolences. Grandma’s neighbours, Caleb’s associates in Skyhaven, her friends from Linkon University. Tara, good soul that she is, visited almost every day, bringing homecooked meals delivered from her mother. Xavier dropped by, offering nothing but an understanding look. Thomas did too, haphazard in his condolences with an extremely extravagant flower display. And there was Rafayel, who came so late at night and gave her the conch shell he said a seagull would give her.

Amidst all those visitors and well-wishers, no one had noticed: she hadn’t cried at all.

There was a heavy weight in her heart, and she wished so badly that she could, but there were no tears in her eyes. She sat there, pale as a sheet of paper with her mouth pursed, staring at the pictures of Grandma and Caleb. Aghast, befuddled, and mad. So, so mad.

Mad at the suspicious old guy, mad at herself for not even noticing. Mad at herself for surviving.

It’s late night of the visitation, the night before the funeral, when Zayne dropped in. He’s late, they both know it. He should have been there earlier. She wants to blame him, wants to be angry at him, but she can’t. Not when the Wanderer attacks have been happening more frequently and he had to work around the clock.

She gives him a perfunctory smile as she stands up to welcome him instead. “Hey.”

Zayne looks at her as he finishes signing on the logbook. He looks at her in that searching gaze that he always does. ‘Assessing,’ she thinks, because he’s a doctor first and foremost and that’s how he always is.

“Have you gotten enough sleep?” he asks, without so much as a greeting, as they sit side by side.

“I’ll sleep when I get to,” was her non answer.

Everything falls silent. Outside, it rains. She listens to the pitter patter as the house exploded again and again, in her mind’s eye.

Zayne taps her quietly on the arm. Hands her something.

It was a handful of photos. With trembling hands, she takes and looks through them.

“My parents had always loved taking photos, and there were some of you. I thought you’d like seeing them.”

Her childhood. With him, with Caleb, with Grandma. She stops at a photo with her and Caleb and Grandma. It was taken right outside the barbecue restaurant they frequented in their childhood. She remembers this day, because it was Caleb’s birthday, and she’s gifted him a bracelet and grandma gave him a red packet. None of them were related by blood, but it was a family.

“Thank you.” Her voice was strained, hoarse.

Zayne stands up.

She expects him to say goodbye, so she stands up too. She was trembling.

“I’d see you off, then…”

Just as she was about to step away, Zayne, who was behind her, covered her eyes with his hands.

“Zayne?”

“It’s alright to cry, you know.”

His warmth behind her back, the rough but steady hands over her eyes made her slump, releasing the tension on her shoulders.

“Zayne…”

“If no one sees it, it won’t count as crying.”

A sob rips free from her throat, before she can even stop it, and she begins crying, weeping. Loud as can be. The long denied tears came down like torrential flood. She starts yelling, asking, pleading. Why did it have to be them? Why ? Why? Why? It isn’t fair!

Zayne turns her around and buries her into his chest, pulling her into a tight hug, but never once looking at her face. He listens quietly to everything she says, offering no condolences or well wishes. Offering nothing but himself so that she can mourn.

[rowdyhughesy]

Remember that I love you - Thomas Bordeleau

Content warning: mention of self inflicted death, mental health and angst. If you or anyone you know are dealing with mental health know that there is help available, you’re not alone and there are people that love you. Please do not read if you know this is something that will trigger you.

“ And high up above, or down below. When you're too in love to let it go. But if you never try, you'll never know. Just what you're worth “

- fix you, Coldplay

October 6th 2020

Looking over at the boy beside her, an anxious and nervous look plastered on his tanned face. She can practically feel how his body is shaking from the nerves even if she’s not touching him. He’s told her time and time again that if he doesn’t get drafted it’ll be alright but they both know that’s not true. This is his dream and he’s so close he can practically touch it and not reaching it now would crush him. It would crush her too because everything he feels she feels with him. Thomas has never said it out loud that he hopes for Montreal but she knows it’s in the back of his mind, this is his home and to play here would be the greatest thing ever.

“Hey.” The girls voice snaps Thomas out of his trance that is staring at the TV screen. He forces a small smile at her that doesn’t reach his eyes but it lets her know she has his attention. “No matter what happens today, remember that I love you okey? You’ve got this I know you do.” This time a real smile forms on his cheeks as he reaches for one of her hands grasping it with one of his, intertwining their fingers. “I love you too.”

August 12th 2025

Packing up his first ever own apartment felt weird. Seeing the place he’s called home for the last couple of years blank, most of his stuff put away in moving boxes. The only thing left untouched is his bedroom. Brendan, William and Jacob having left 30 minutes ago to get food for the group, leaving Thomas alone in his apartment.

Standing in the middle of his apartment living room the hockey player decides that he might as well get started on his bedroom. The 23 year old not loving the idea of his three close friends snooping inside his drawers just to get a rise out of him. They do that enough so adding gasoline to the fire is something he’d rather avoid. He loves the boys but they sure can be a pain in the ass if they want to.

Trudging across the room he pushes open the door of his bedroom. It’s messy, blanket and pillows thrown around on the mattress. Clothes scattered over the floor and about three pair of shoes laying around. Thomas let’s out a huff of air at the sight, he really needs to start cleaning up more often. Grabbing one of the boxes marked bedroom he starts packing.

After another 30 minutes the front door of the apartment opens, the voice of Truss loudly reenacting a story breaking the silence.

Not moving from his location in the bedroom Thomas continues with his task thats currently putting all of his picture frames in tissue paper before they go inside a box. “Need any help Bords?” Brendan sticks his head in from behind the door. Two wrapped burgers in one of his hands and bottles of coke tucked under his arm. Bordeleau nods his head at the question, a wordless invitation that Brendan is allowed inside the room.

The brunette steps inside, handing one of the burgers to his friend as he sits down next to him on the floor. They sit in a comfortable silence taking bites of the food, listening to Will and Jacobs conversation in the other room.

Brendan finishes first, throwing the trash away he grabs a couple of frames that’s placed on a shelf standing against the wall. Taking in the image in one of them a sad smile forms on his lips. Softly brushing a finger tip across the girl in the photograph. Blinking away his tears Briss sits down again, unsure he offers the picture to Thomas who’s been looking over at him since he grabbed the frame. Both of the boys sit there for a while just looking down at it.

The image showing Thomas and Y/N, the former standing with his arms wrapped around her. A San Jose jersey covering his upper body while Y/N has a SJ hat on her head. Both of the teenagers flashing wide smiles and eyes almost shining from the happiness coursing through their veins. “That’s probably one of the best days of my life, Y/N screamed so loud when my name was called I think she almost busted my eardrums.” Thomas’s breath growing shaky as he lets out a watery laugh. His eyes glossy from tears.

“I bet she told you how she never doubted you for a second right?” Nodding in response Thomas rises up from his sitting position. Walking over to his wardrobe he reaches up on the highest shelf, grabbing a shoebox. It’s dusty, like it hasn’t been touched in a long time but the material is faded and worn from years of usage. Brendan giving his friend a questioning look as Thomas hands him the box. “She saved memories from every date, every game, every holiday since we were 17. It’s all inside.”

Taking off the top of the box Brendan is met with printed out pictures, souvenirs, small merchandise from hockey teams and every other thing Y/N could’ve seen as important. But the one thing that really catches Brendan’s attention is the white envelope. The word Thomas written in scribbly handwriting across the paper. “It was taped to the box when I found it outside my door, the day that she uh- you can read it. It’s alright Briss.” Opening the envelope Brendan pulls out a sheet of paper. It’s stained with what he can only picture being tears, maybe they’re from Y/N but also Thomas. Taking a deep breath he starts reading.

Hi Baby.

I’m sorry, I know it sounds bad to just say I’m sorry but I really really am. You can be mad at me, I won’t judge you. It’s okey. You have every right in the world to be mad at me. I know I should’ve said something about how I’m feeling, how nothing really matters to me anymore. The only thing that feels like it matters is you, but that just wasn’t enough anymore. I don’t wanna keep fighting it anymore. I’m so tired Thomas, so tired of feeling like this. I hope you’ll understand why I’m doing it someday but I know you probably won’t. I’m just happy I was still here to see your first game with the sharks. I’m so proud of you and I always will be. You’re going to do amazing things in the league I just know it. Never doubt what you can achieve in this world my love you are the most loving, smart, talented, charming and best person I’ve had the chance to know. Do what I can’t, live. I might be leaving but know you made my life better for the last two years. You loved me in every way you could but I just can’t love myself. This might be a goodbye but we’ll meet again in another life. Just remember that I love you Thomas Bordeleau, with everything I have. Yours forever, Y/N

November 14th 2023

One year after the day that turned everything Thomas knew upside down he stepped foot inside the tattoo shop his girlfriend had talked about for months prior. Always saying how she wanted to get a tattoo there but never having the courage to do it.

Looking at the fresh ink on his chest, above his heart is the words I love you in her handwriting forever imprinted. Tears start running down his cheeks but he makes no move to wipe them away. “You and me forever mon ange. I’ll never forget about you.”

[usafphantom2]

SR-71 could sneak into a denied area, get the take and leave before our enemy even knew we were there 🇺🇸🇺🇸

The SR-71 was never successfully intercepted by surface-to-air missile or aircraft. It had a state-of-the-art electronic defensive system which would defeat an incoming missile’s homing and steering. Detectors on board would alert the crew of a missile launch instantly and, since the SR-71 did not normally fly at its maximum speed or altitude, the aircraft’s defense was simultaneously to jam the missile’s guidance while accelerating, climbing, and turning with 45º of bank. No surface-to-air missile could out-turn, thus hit, an SR-71, a fact demonstrated many times, especially during the Vietnam War. Attempts to shoot down an SR-71 continued until August 25, 1981, which was the last time an enemy (North Korea) fired a surface-to-air missile at an SR-71; that mission was flown by Maury Rosenberg, pilot, and Ed McKim, Reconnaissance Systems Officer (RSO).

We carried an array of sophisticated sensors and recorders which could glean reconnaissance data with cameras capable of high-quality photographs horizon-to-horizon. We also had radar imagery capable of one-foot resolution. This was the Advanced Synthetic Aperture Radar System (ASARS), which could deliver readable radar pictures night or day, bad weather or clear. I’m no photo interpreter, but even I could tell what was pictured. The SR-71 also carried electronic intelligence (ELINT) systems which are still classified. We advertised that the SR-71, within 24 hours notification, could be over any target on earth and be capable of surveying 100,000 square miles of terrain each hour. It was no idle boast.

I’ll summarize the importance of the SR-71 missions by quoting Paul Crickmore, noted aviation historian and Blackbird author, in a letter to me.

“In theatre, the SR-71 proved the concept of high-Mach, high-altitude flight, to obtain vital aerial reconnaissance. The SR-71 regularly conducted reconnaissance missions in the skies over North Vietnam – particularly around Hanoi in 1968-70 which at the time, was the most highly defended area on the planet.”

“The Blackbirds provided superior flexibility compared to satellites, time after time, specific examples—Yom Kippur War 1973, Yemen 1979, Cuba 1977—1990, Lebanon October 1983 (following the truck-bomb attack killing over 240 US Marines), Libya 1986, The Persian Gulf 1987, but perhaps most importantly, the on-going monitoring of Soviet nuclear submarine fleets for the US Navy—particularly the Northern Fleet with their submarine-launched ballistic missiles (SLBMs), capable of hitting large areas of the United States, as well as all Allied Countries.”

BC Bredette B C Thomas

Posted by Linda Sheffield

@Habubrats71 via X

[yatescountyhistorycenter]

Do you know Penn Yan?: Penn Yan Oddity, No. 31 through No. 60

By Jonathan Monfiletto

Anyone who has conducted research either through Yates County’s digitized newspapers or the Yates County History Center’s subject files has likely come across items titled either “Penn Yan Oddity” or “Yates County Oddity.” These items – snippets might be a good word – provide information about various aspects of local history, seeming to answer some sort of question or mystery.

Seeing so many of these snippets – and finding the answers but seeming not to find the question – I decided to scour our digitized newspaper database to see if I could find all of them, the questions with the answers. It turns out the oddities – 90 Penn Yan Oddity items, 52 Yates County Oddity items – were part of an advertising campaign in the 1940s for Baldwin’s Bank, then located at 127 Main St. in Penn Yan, the present-day home of the Arts Center of Yates County.

The Penn Yan Oddities ran in The Chronicle-Express in consecutive weeks from February 20, 1947 to November 11, 1948, and then the Yates County Oddities picked up right away in the newspaper from November 18, 1948 to November 24, 1949. So, for more than 2 and a half years, readers of The Chronicle-Express could learn something about local history each week in the newspaper.

Each item started out as an advertisement for Baldwin’s Bank with the phrase “Do You Know Penn Yan?” at the top of the graphic followed by the question for the week. In the middle, the bulk of the ad, would appear information about the bank’s various services and offerings. The bottom would direct the reader to look for the answer elsewhere on the same page and then look for another Oddity the following week.

In this article, I present Penn Yan Oddity No. 31 through No. 60. Each question and answer has been transcribed exactly as it appeared in the newspaper, which changes made only for typographical errors and not for grammatical style. The only time words have been removed from the items is in the case of references to photographs or other information that appeared elsewhere in the newspaper.

31) Where were the Lake Keuka steamer docks before the railroad connected Penn Yan and Dresden?

… the steamers on Lake Keuka at one time docked at the foot of Keuka street, then called Pine street, across the channel from where the docks were later constructed when the railroad replaced the canal and the unloading of freight on the same side as the railroad was an obvious advantage.

32) Where is the residence of a former U.S. Consul to Honolulu?

Philip Ogden, residing at the corner of Hamilton and Clinton streets, lives in the house once owned by his grandfather, Darius A. Ogden, editor of the Penn Yan Democrat, village postmaster, county assemblyman and consul to Honolulu, Hawaii. President Franklin Pierce appointed him Aug. 4, 1854. The residence is a century old

33) Where is there a tree grown around a two by four?

At the corner of North avenue and Main street by the home occupied by Frank Wheeler, a maple has grown around a piece of two by four which years ago was placed in the crotch.

34) Where is there still in use the home of a former German baron?

The residence at 324 North avenue, set far back on the north side of the street and used by the Newark State school for one of its colonies, was the home of Baron Oscar Theobold von Lingke, wealthy and eccentric music teacher, who went to Germany and brought back his bride to live in this village, later moving to Pennsylvania. Baron von Lingke dabbled in chemistry. Once, during the some five years he lived here, he set fire to the old house while mixing a chemical concoction.

35) Where is the fountain that once stood near Birkett Mills?

Rev. Thomas C. Kane of St. Michael’s Catholic church is viewing the heavy metal fountain that once held water for thirsty horses. For years it stood at the corner of Main and Seneca streets now occupied by the Birkett Mills filling station.

Can anyone tell us when the watering “trough” was removed to St. Michael’s cemetery and transformed into its present task of adding a lovely touch to the landscape?

36) What residence once served Penn Yan as a hospital?

The apartment house at the end of East Main street, No. 248, was once the Hatmaker hospital.

Laurence E. Carey purchased it in early 1946 from Ed Smith. There are four apartments in the former hospital building. … As the Soldiers and Sailors Memorial hospital was being constructed on North Main street, the Hoyt residence, now the nurses’ home was used temporarily for a hospital.

37) Where is there an old school with an iron picket fence in front?

In front of the Wagner, Penn Yan hotel, still stands the iron picket fence. This building was erected by Ebenezer B. Jones. Mrs. Hebe O. Ellsworth, wife of General Samuel Stewart Ellsworth, the next occupant, erected in the front yard a fountain and the fence. The property was once used as the site of a tavern and a school. In 1824 an English sea captain, Elijah Holcomb, built the tavern, “Washington House.” Business was poor and it soon became a school – “The Yates Academy and Female Seminary,” opening its doors the first Monday in January 1829. In 1834 there were over 340 boys and girls attending, but the school closed after 10 years. The frame of the old building was moved across Main street and is now the jail barn, at the rear of the courthouse.

38) What street in Penn Yan bears the family name of the late U.S. president?

Delano place, running from Liberty street to the old boat docks, now the Keuka Lumber company, was named after a cabinet maker. His daughter, Miss Anna Delano, was an accomplished artist and gave painting lessons to many in this community until her death 35 years ago. The Delano residence is now occupied as an office and salesroom by Rapalee Auto Parts company. In shape the dwelling still appears much as it did in the old days when the Delano family owned most of the land in that part of town.

39) Where are the biggest and heaviest shears in Penn Yan?

Walter J. Calhoun, junk dealer, 226 Keuka street, has motor-driven shears which weigh, six and a half tons. They are used for cutting salvage metal, preparatory to shipment and sale. These shears snip pieces of steel off from an auto frame as if it were but a match and yet can also cut a piece of silk ribbon.

40) What Penn Yan residence was once used as a school?

Some 90 years ago N.W. Ayer conducted a private seminary in Penn Yan for what were designated at that time as “young ladies and gentleman.” He was assisted by Mrs. Ayer, and they not only taught the rudiments of education but were painstaking in teaching their pupils proper deportment for all occasions. In classes they always addressed those who attended their school as “Miss” and “Mister,” never becoming familiar enough to call them by their first names. The pupils were supposed to address each other with the same formality.

The “Young Ladies Seminary,” as it was called, was conducted for many years in the Shoniker house which is now 105 East Main street. From there the school was moved to the present home of Oliver Sheppard at 169 Main street. It was quite successful for a time, but after the founding of Penn Yan Academy in 1859, its patronage was materially lessened.

Mr. Ayer went to Philadelphia in 1868, where he established the famous N.W. Ayer & Son advertising agency which ahs become one of the largest and most prominent in this country.

41) What two streets bear the names of apples?

Stark Avenue

Wagener Street

Abraham Wagener, “founder” of Penn Yan developed the Wagener apple in an orchard at the rear of his Mansion house, now the Knapp hotel.

42) How many streets bear the names of former presidents?

Lincoln Avenue

Garfield Avenue

McKinley Avenue

43) Do you know that Penn Yan’s “natural bridge” has just been cut down?

The maple tree in front of the Methodist parsonage, 219 Main street, Penn Yan, has just been cut down. Limbs growing together bridged across a fork in the tree to make the oddity.           

44) What streets are named after some of the Finger Lakes?

Two Penn Yan streets are named after some of the Finger lakes – Keuka and Seneca.

45) What Penn Yan streets are named after kinds of trees?

Five Penn Yan streets carry the names of kinds of trees:

            Elm and East Elm street

            Walnut street

            Cherry street

            Chestnut street

            Maple avenue

46) What business block was erected on old canal locks?

… it marks a big step in the development of Penn Yan – the abandonment of the village as a port on the inland water system carrying commerce via the Erie canal and its further development as a center served by railroads. A branch of the Fallbrook railroad, now the New York Central system, was constructed between Penn Yan and Dresden to replace the six-mile canal. A total of 27 locks to lift and drop boats 267 feet during the short winding course paralleling Lake Keuka outlet made the canal inefficient, and it was abandoned after serving from 1833 to about 1877.

Barges loaded with grain and produce on Lake Keuka entered the canal’s first lock under what is now known as the Chronicle annex, formerly the Hasson block, 108-10 Water street – occupied by the Modern Beauty shop and Penn Yan Business services. Twenty years ago this spring workmen dug up the sill of the first lock under this building to help establish legal questions as to water levels in Lake Keuka.

The tow path crossed the outlet about where the railroad trestle now spans the stream above the state damn. At one time, however, the dam was some 100 feet further upstream than the present structure. In 1834, a year after the canal was opened, the dam was raised six inches to better serve the canal, but since then it has not been raised or lowered.

The rear of a portion of the Birkett’s Mill warehouse on Water street, viewed today from Main Street bridge, clearly shows the second story overhanging, so as to easily permit gravity feed of grain into canal boats which would be tied up in the basin beneath the building.

After negotiating the first lock, canal boats would proceed to Dresden passing directly under what is now the Chronicle-Express office, under the Main Street bridge span and along the outlet side of Seneca street on their tedious way down towards Seneca Lake and Dresden. A short spur of the canal carried barges to the rear of the buildings on the east side of Main street, which gave Basin street its present name.

47) What hotel was replaced by a movie theatre?

Yes, it’s true, folks, in case you don’t happen to remember – the Shearman house, one of Penn Yan’s hotels, was transformed into what is now the one and only movie theatre – the Elmwood on Elm street. See any resemblance?

In March of 1921 the late Harry C. Morse, famed Lake Keuka steamboat pilot and captain, purchased from the Odd Fellows Building association the Shearman house and the adjoining business block … and converted them into a movie theatre, which he named the Elmwood. Five years before Mr. Morse purchased the Sampson theatre, on East Elm street, now Jewett’s garage. Dr. Franklin S. Sampson erected this large structure in 1910 and it was widely used for stage shows, movies, and basketball games, also as a miniature golf course. Mr. Morse for a time operated both theatres. The old Cornwell Opera house, now the Grange hall, was showing a bill of movies at the same time – making three in all competing for business. Following the death of Mr. Morse in 1936 the Elmwood was sold to the Schine chain and the Sampson theatre ceased to be used for entertainment.

48) How many Penn Yan streets were named after U.S. generals?

Three Penn Yan streets bear the names of famous United States Generals – Jackson, Sherman, and Grant.

49) What streets bear the names commonly used for boys’ first names?

Four Penn Yan streets bear names commonly used as first names by boys – Clinton, Henry, Lawrence, and Franklin.

50) Where is there a house built at an angle to the street?

The residence of Mrs. Delos Sprague, 231 East Main street, is built at a marked angle to the sidewalk and street which it faces.

51) How many streets bear the names commonly used for girls?

Two Penn Yan streets bear names commonly used as the first names of girls – Violet and Myrtle.

52) Where is there a meteor?

In front of the Fred Carroll homestead, corner of Ogden street and South avenue, now owned by Mrs. Lena M. Snyder, is a meteorite about the size of a bushel basket and weighing 976 pounds. Mrs. Alfred Carroll saw it fall on the farm in Potter in the year 1887. It was been exhibited for many years on the Penn Yan place, the property, 151 South avenue.

53) Where does the sidewalk make a detour to avoid a tree?

In front of the former Christie Briggs residence at 214 East Main street, the entire sidewalk swerves wide to avoid a large oak tree; also in front of the Gilbert Smith residence, 223 East Main, the walk detours around a big elm. In numerous other places the sidewalk is indented to permit room for a tree and its roots but this is one place where the walk makes a detour.

54) How many stone houses are there in the village?

There are, we believe, but two stone houses within the village limits – the field stone Wagener house, owned by Paul Ritchey on Highland drive, and the Paul R. Taylor residence on Main street. The latter was built of stone quarried practically within the village.

Do you know where that quarry is? …

Dr. Waddell, years ago, erected four masonry houses on Hicks street and Waddell avenue, but these are really cement houses in which stone was merely used for filling.

55) How many former street names can you identify?

Following are two lists of Penn Yan street names. The first list contains names used today. The column to the right contains the names of the same nine streets used years ago …

            East Elm                   Jacob

            South Ave.                Boundary

            Chapel                       Church

            Garfield                     Sheridan Place

            East Main                 Jillett

            Keuka                        Pine

            North Ave.                Head

            Seneca                       Canal

            North Liberty          Quarry

56) Where is there a house not built “on a square”?

While there are several street intersections in Penn Yan which are not made at right angles, the buildings on the corners are usually “on the square” with the line of one wall at a 90-degree angle with the intersecting line of the next wall.

The north and west sides of the Bush house at the corner of North avenue and Jackson street, are an exception, however, and form an angle of less than 90 degrees. The same is true of the Guile apartment building containing the Market Basket store at the corner of Main street and North avenue.

57) Where was the Gas House?

Penn Yan’s first gas house was on Jackson street, completed by the Penn Yan Gas Light company Sept. 25, 1860, when gas was first turned on in the Yates county seat. In June of 1888 William T. Morris bought controlling interest in the company and rebuilt the works on Jackson street.

Nine years later the corporation purchased the Tuttle malt house on Water street … and in 1899 built the stone gas house now used by the Penn Yan winery, along Lake Keuka outlet, and the large steel gas tank familiar to many adults. This storage tank was razed by the New York State Electric and Gas corporation seven years ago since pipelines had earlier replaced the huge container. Gas was first piped to Penn Yan from Geneva Jan. 16, 1929.

The original gas company, organized May 11, 1860, was incorporated by Darius A. Ogden, L.O. Dunning, George McAllister, Samuel H. Wells, and Charles Stark, with a capital of $10,000. The company, serving the public from the Water street plant, was headed by Mr. Morris with Morris Tracey as secretary and Michael F. Buckley as superintendent. The plant was moved downtown since by the first of this century most of Penn Yan’s business had been firmly established in its present location rather than at the location of Head and Main streets.

One of the first Penn Yan Oddities in this series revealed one of the original gas street lamp posts still standing in front of the Elias Wallace residence on East Main street. Others were found transplanted to support clothes lines at the rear of the Frank E. Monnin residence and the Gilbert Smith home on East Main.

Mrs. Ernest Pierce of Keuka Park recalls that her uncle, Harrison (Phinney) Brown, once chief of police in this village, for years was the official lamplighter, starting first with kerosene lamps and then progressing to the newer gas lights over 80 years ago. Mr. Brown lived at 122 Clinton street, reaching his house by a series of steps leading from the sidewalk up the bank on the north side of the street. The late Carl F. Brunt built the present dwelling on the site of the Brown home. Mr. Brown met a tragic death when struck by a train some 60 years ago between Clinton street and the Pennsylvania depot.

58) Where was the Stevens steam engine built?

Pearl Simmons used one of the popular Stevens steam farm engines for powering his farm jobs years ago. These were made in extensive shops which spread out on both sides of Head street, just west of the Main street intersection. The Harry O. Bennett and Dr. Glenn Hatch residences occupy land entirely used by the once thriving engine making plant. Later the industry moved to Auburn.

59) The village corporate limits lie in how many townships?

The Incorporated Village of Penn Yan is in three townships – Milo, Benton, and Jerusalem.

Most of the village lies in Milo, but from the center of North Avenue to the north is Benton township, and a very small portion of the village lies within Jerusalem township at the west end. As a matter of fact, the main drive in the Lake View cemetery roughly marks the Milo-Jerusalem boundary line.

60) What structure is being built on site of early movie house?

George Miller is creating a new building at 118 Elm street to accommodate the Gordon Allen lunch and pool room, replacing the old frame structure which stood on the site since Civil War days. When it was torn down recently workmen found wooden pins holding the front frame work and a sign dated 1871.

For over 60 years it was operated as a blacksmith shop, Charles Wren being the last smithy to hold forth in that location. About 1908 it became one of Penn Yan’s first movie theatres. William Wickham of Salamanca first brought movies to Penn Yan, recalls Nathaniel P. Sackett of Elm street, operator for the Elmwood theatre. Mr. Wickham’s first theatre was located where the New York State Electric and Gas corporation office is now. Business was good so he rented the old blacksmith shop on Elm street and started a Nickelodeon there. The row of electric lights which illuminated the front could be seen until the structure was razed a few days ago.

In this building Mr. Sackett having purchased from Mr. Wickham, first introduced novelty or vaudeville acts between films, while the operator was rewinding and changing reels. John Roche, local boy who gained recognition and wealth in Hollywood, got his start here with a song and dance routine.

A later occupant of the building was John Hoban’s meat market, which moved there from the White building, replaced by the Jolley Chevrolet structure. Hoban’s market remained there until April 1, 1925, when it exchanged locations with Mike Roche’s restaurant, moving to its present location, which George Miller had owned previously.

[mountainashfae]

mountain, i am Staring at you with my Malkavian Eyes, please tell me about the Sabbat Malk

Boy howdy do I love my Sabbat Malk. My littlest guy with plot armor. Not allowed to die for reasons that I figured out but the other players didn't put the pieces together for.

So this is Apollo, it is the name he chose for himself after realizing he could see the future and getting a big ego because of it. He's got a ton of Auspex, the Eyes of Chaos discipline power (recently introduced in V5 btw! it's so fun, give it a try) the Oracular Visions merit, and another merit that lets him get dreams about the future. His official derangement/bane is that he suffers from hallucinations, many of which he believes are also visions of the future, but unofficially I like to joke that his insane self-confidence is also a derangement. He's also picked up another one where he mistakes random people for his sire.

He was born back in in the 1940s and was embraced impulsively in the 1960s after accidentally catching his sire on camera. He was a professional photographer and still keeps up the photography even in his unlife.

Going to do similarly as you with Leo by putting the rest under a readmore.

He has a terrible relationship with his sire. Thomas treats him like a cameraman and gave him the nickname "cameraboy". He's expected to always be around to catch Thomas on film. Part of Thomas's derangement of believing that he's in a TV show and everyone else is a paid actor, with the exception of his childe of course. The initial blood bond from his embrace pretty quickly curdled into a deep hatred of his sire.

A few months before the beginning of our Sabbat game, Apollo's visions led him to meet a Lasombra by the name of Garcia Ortiz, whom he is lightly obsessed with getting a photo of and also just wants to bang. Apollo already hates how he is treated for being a Malkavian and hates that people don't take his oracular visions serious. Garcia just has to try a tiny bit to convince him to defect from the Camarilla and join the Sabbat.

He wasn't allowed into his mentor's pack in case of nepotism but he's got a very fun pack regardless. As early as session 1 he was already losing Humanity. They're currently working to get him on a Path of Enlightment so he doesn't become a wight. His biggest complaint with the training is how much he's had to interact with fire. The Sabbat aren't as averse to fire as the average kindred, but Apollo is more averse to fire than the average Camarilla.

His most recent antics in the game is that he was separated from the rest of the pack for a bit for Path Training with his mentor (a very cute Ventrue antitribu), and ended up going on an infiltration mission into a city that had recently been taken over by the Camarilla. It turns out the mostly-empty city is bait to distract the Sabbat's attention from the Camarilla's actual target, and the guy they put in charge of that bait city is Thomas. Apollo is satisfied with letting the guy sit and rot in his false Princehood. Eventually I will diablerize him and also recruit his newest childe because HOW DARE YOU EMBRACE SOMEONE ELSE. HOW DARE YOU BRING SOMEONE ELSE INTO THIS MESS.

For fun here is the rest of his pack in comparison to him <3

[f1-stuff]

I was tagged by @c2-eh for this get to know me thingie - thank you bb! ❤️ Sorry it took me so long!

name: Mal

sign: Gemini (the very first day!)

time: 21:50

favorite band or artist: This is like asking me to choose my fav sibling, but probably either Gregory Alan Isakov or Arcade Fire, or tbh Thomas Newman (funny story: I was so in love with Arcade Fire as a teen that I literally didn't want to know what the band members looked like bc I wanted them to remain this otherworldly entity with no specific face/form. To this day, I don't know what they look like.)

last movie: I rewatched Pacific Rim on a flight lol (I'm back on my charlos drift compatible agenda 😭)

last show: Just rewatched all of Heartstopper again 🙃

when i created this blog: I'm not actually sure - my first post was in 2014, but I was a lurker before that...

other blogs: I have 4 other blogs 😅 a personal one, a marvel/iron man themed one, a photography one, and a cinematography one lol (but I'm not very active on them)

do i get asks: Yes - sorry to all the ppl that I've never answered. I sometimes forget to check and then it feels like the asks become less relevant. Other times, I don't want to answer something that I feel would only spread negativity. But pls never stop sending asks! I most enjoy the ones that prompt me to gif something lol

followers: 3.2k - consistently baffles me

average hours of sleep: I get judged for this by the ppl in my life (and they're right) but probably like 4.5/5 hrs 😭 I wanna be better but there just aren't enough hours in the dayyy

instruments: Piano for my whole life, guitar in the last few years

what am i wearing: PJs!

dream job: I think I've answered this before but I get restless and don't like doing one thing all the time. But maybe travel photographer for like nat geo or something. Or the job I currently have (cinematographer). Or I just want to live in a beach house/studio making art for a living 👀

dream trip: I literally love to travel (unoriginal I'm sorry!!) New Zealand's on the bucket list, as well as China and India.

favorite song atm: It's been like a year but I'm still singing Better in the Morning by Birdtalker in the shower like every gd day. I also love Amsterdam by Gregory Alan Isakov forever and always ❤️

I'm not gonna tag anyone bc I'm tired 😂 and I don't wanna crosscheck who might've already been tagged. So if you're interested, go for it!

[sailorhyunjinz]

Okay onto the måneskin concert; it was so much fun

"loud kids tour" is a very fitting name; it was really loud at times but by the time we were back at my friend's place we could hear just fine again so it's okay

I love the energy they had on stage and Damiano joked with us sometimes. Like before singing begging he told us that some people dislike the song/are tired of it but we're all "fucking liars" and he's going to prove it and just sang the first words and then the stadium sang the rest and he was like "I told you" lmao

My favourite performance was gasoline because there was a bit of a fire show with it

I am however really bad at taking pictures and the picture doesn't look very impressive. Tho I also have an even worse one

Lmao. Look at the bald head of the man in front of me.

I took a video of parts of "baby said" because it's my favourite song off the album but you see more of the bald head than you do of måneskin because I didn't pay enough attention to where the camera was pointing 😭

Doesn't matter I'll remember the concert via the merch and had fun in the moment

For some of the calmer songs Damiano and Thomas went to a different stage more in the middle of the hall and that is the last thing I tried (and failed) to capture

Kskskskaka why am I like this? 😭

And in the end they brought people on to the stage and they all started bowing to Vic at some point - big mood

It was so much fun 10/10 would recommend if you ever have the chance to.

My only criticism is that Ethan probably had the least screen time of all of them (or maybe that's just my subjective opinion and factually totally wrong) when he's my favourite 😔 rude

THE BALD GUY 💀💀

but woooooah you must have had so much fun, imagine being brought up stage??? that’s some once in a lifetime type of shit

YOU ARE NOT THE BEST PHOTOGRAPHER but we love your efforts of trying to capture these golden moments and I would do anything to see Ethan whip his hair and Damiano cuss in real life <//3