#lydia shelby
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wonderlanddreamer · 4 months ago
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[1923] Watery Lane, Birmingham.
In the aftermath of a violent ambush on their home, the Shelby family must act quickly to help Lydia, who has been struck by a bullet.
Warnings: Mentions of violence, injury, and blood.
[Part of The Lydia Saga]
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The Shelby home, once a bastion of strength and family, now lay in disarray, its proud facade marred by the violence that had shattered its peace. The front door hung askew on its hinges, an ominous welcome to the chaos within. Shattered glass crunched underfoot, mingling with the splintered wood of furniture that had been upturned in the frenzy. The wallpaper, once pristine, was now marred with bullet holes and streaked with soot, a testament to the gunfire that had torn through the house like a relentless storm.
In the hallway, a mirror lay cracked and discarded, its fractured surface reflecting the turmoil in jagged pieces. Family photographs, once lovingly displayed, were now scattered across the floor, their frames broken, and images of happier times lying amid the debris. The once comforting hearth in the parlour now seemed cold and distant, its warmth extinguished by the violence that had invaded.
The betting shop, a symbol of the Shelby enterprise, fared no better. The smell of burnt paper hung in the air, mixing with the lingering scent of smoke. Betting slips and ledger pages were strewn about like leaves in a gale, their contents rendered meaningless amid the destruction. The counter, usually bustling with activity, was now a barricade of chaos, its surface scarred by stray bullets and splintered wood.
The shelves that once held stacks of coins and tidy ledgers were bare, their contents either pilfered or scattered in the melee. Chairs lay toppled and broken, a testament to the frantic struggle that had taken place. The safe, usually a symbol of security and prosperity, stood ominously open, its contents rifled through and discarded in the frenzy.
Outside, the rain continued to fall, its relentless patter a stark contrast to the silence now enveloping Watery Lane. It washed away the blood and soot, but it could not cleanse the memory of what had transpired. Despite the fear and uncertainty, the family was rallying as they always did—together.
The memory of the ambush replayed in Lydia's mind with vivid clarity. She had been running, heart pounding in her chest, when she spotted John ahead—a beacon of safety amid the chaos. But before she could reach him, a sharp, searing pain had exploded in her side, stealing her breath and sending her crashing to the ground. The world had spun around her, the sounds of gunfire and shouting stretching into a distant echo as she lay there, paralyzed by shock and pain. She couldn't quite recall which of her brothers had reached her side first, but there was no mistaking who had exacted vengeance on the man responsible for her injury. Despite her blurred vision, the sight of blood splattered across Arthur’s clenched fists was unmistakable. In a fit of turbulent rage, he had forsaken all weapons, choosing instead to unleash his fury with his bare hands. Each blow landed with ferocious intensity, reducing the man’s face to a grotesque, unrecognisable mess.
Now, Lydia lay curled on her bed, the very act of breathing a torturous endeavour. The bullet had left a jagged wound in her side, a cruel reminder of the violence she had narrowly escaped. Blood had soaked through her shirt, forming a dark, ominous stain that spread with each painful breath. The skin around the injury was angry and inflamed, radiating a heat that spoke of the body's desperate fight against the intrusion.
Her small hands, normally so full of life and mischief, clutched the sheets in a white-knuckled grip, as if anchoring herself against the tide of pain threatening to sweep her away. Her eyes, dulled by agony and fever, flickered to her Aunt Polly, seeking reassurance in her steady presence.
Polly Gray moved with the grace of someone who had faced crises such as these before. Her heart ached for Lydia's suffering, but she buried her emotions beneath a mask of calm determination. She gently dabbed at the wound with a clean cloth, her movements careful and precise, trying to soothe Lydia's pain even as she prepared to alleviate it further.
The room around Lydia seemed to blur, the world reduced to a haze of pain that refused to relent. Each breath was a struggle, a sharp reminder of the bullet lodged in her side. Her pale skin felt like it was on fire, the wound throbbing with a relentless, searing agony that no amount of reassurance could ease. The damp cloth Ada used to wipe away her tears was a fleeting comfort, offering only momentary relief from the feverish heat that enveloped her.
Ada remained a tranquil presence, her gentle touch a beacon of calm in the storm of Lydia's suffering. Yet, despite Ada's soothing words and soft whispers, the pain clawed at Lydia's senses, drowning out the world around her. It was as if the hurt had taken on a life of its own, consuming her thoughts and rendering her oblivious to everything except the burning insistence of the injury. She had truly never felt anything like it, and never wanted to feel anything like it ever again.
Across the room, Finn stood beside Polly, trying to project an air of calm he didn't truly feel. His hands trembled slightly with the weight of responsibility, but he forced them to remain steady as he passed tools to Polly. Each time his fingers brushed Polly's, it was a silent exchange of strength and solidarity.
Finn's voice wavered as he spoke, reaching out to Lydia with a promise he desperately hoped to fulfil. "It’s going to be okay, Lyds," he said, his words laced with a mixture of hope and fear. But even as he spoke, he knew that his assurances were no match for the relentless pain that gripped his younger sister. His heart ached with the helplessness of watching Lydia suffer, wishing he could do more to ease her pain.
The door swung open and Tommy stepped inside, his presence commanding immediate attention. He carried with him a bowl of water in one hand and a cloth in the other. His appearance seemed to ease the tension in the room, his usually calculating gaze softened by concern as he looked at Lydia.
There was a tenderness in the way he approached, a complete contrast to the hardened leader he was known to be. His shirt was stained with blood, sleeves balled up to his elbows revealing injuries of his own that had been hastily patched up by John downstairs. Yet none of that mattered to him in that moment, his own pain of no importance to himself considering the juncture they were at.
As Tommy reached the bed, Ada quietly asked, her voice tinged with worry, “How are the others, Tommy?” He gave a brief nod as he set the bowl down with a gentle clink, his words concise but reassuring. “They’re managing,” he replied, not wanting to dwell on anything but Lydia at that moment.
Tommy carefully positioned himself on the bed so that Lydia could rest partially on his lap. His arms wrapped around her shoulders with a gentle strength, cradling her close against his chest. As Lydia settled against him, Tommy became acutely aware of the tremors coursing through her small frame. Holding her close, Tommy could feel the rapid flutter of her heartbeat against his arms, a frantic rhythm that echoed the turmoil within her. The sensation of her trembling tugged at something deep within him, a mixture of protectiveness and helplessness that he rarely allowed himself to feel. Tommy Shelby was accustomed to being the one in control, yet with Lydia in his arms, he was harshly reminded of the fragility of life and the limits of his power.
Lydia’s fear was palpable, a living thing that wrapped itself around her like a vice, squeezing tighter with each passing moment. The anticipation of having the bullet removed loomed over her like a dark cloud, and she was dreadfully aware of the pain it would bring.
"T-Tommy," she whimpered, her voice barely rising above the fragile whisper of her breath. It was a plea born of desperation and fear, her small hands clutching at his arms as if they were the only thing anchoring her to this world. “Please don’t. Don’t let them touch it. It hurts so much.”
Tommy's heart clenched at the painful vulnerability in her voice, an abdominal ache that resonated deep within him. He wanted nothing more than to take the pain away from her and take it upon himself, but he knew this was a battle she had to endure, and all he could do was be there, steadfast and unwavering.
He kept his voice steady and soothing, a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of her fear. "I know, love. I know it hurts," he murmured, brushing his lips against the top of her head with infinite tenderness. His breath was warm against her skin, a tangible promise of his presence. "But you're the bravest of us all, you know that? You're our little soldier."
Lydia sniffled, her tears soaking into his sleeves as she clung to him, drawing strength from his presence. She could feel the steady beat of his heart, a reassuring rhythm that spoke of safety and love. "It will all be alright, little one," he whispered, his voice a soft rumble, each word a balm against her fear. “We're all here with you, Lydia. You're not alone, alright?"
Her sobs quieted into small, hiccuping breaths as she clung to him, drawing strength from his presence. Tommy nodded to Polly, signalling that Lydia was as ready as she could be. Ada and Finn moved to help hold her steady, each offering murmured words of encouragement, their touches gentle and sure.
The moment Polly began her work, time seemed to slow, stretching each second into an agonising eternity. Lydia's scream tore through the room, a raw, anguished sound that pierced the air like a knife. It was a sound that clawed at Tommy's heart, each note of her pain resonating deep within his soul. He held her tighter, as if his embrace could somehow shield her from her suffering.
"It's okay, little one. I'm here. I’ve got you. Just a little longer," he whispered, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. He stroked her hair with a gentle hand, keeping her as steady as his strong arms would allow.
Polly worked with expert precision, her hands steady even as her heart ached for Lydia. She murmured soft reassurances as she carefully probed the wound, her fingers deft and sure despite the gravity of the task. The room was tense with anticipation, each person holding their breath as Polly continued her delicate work.
John and Arthur appeared in the doorway, drawn by the sound of their sister's distress. Their faces were grim, shadows etching deeper lines into their already weathered features. Each of them bore their own marks of the recent clash, Arthur’s knuckles were completely wrapped in bandages while John’s skin and clothes were still streaked with blood. They stood silently, knowing that too many hands would only add to the chaos, their presence a silent vow of solidarity and strength. Tommy caught their eyes, a brief exchange of looks that spoke volumes. At that moment, words were unnecessary.
Time seemed suspended, each moment stretching into an eternity filled with Lydia's cries and Tommy's whispered reassurances. Polly's focus was unwavering as she worked, her hands moving with a surgeon's precision despite the emotional weight of the task. Finally, with a deftness born of experience, she extracted the bullet.
The metallic clink as it fell into a dish was a sound that seemed to echo with finality, a signal that the worst was over. Relief washed through the room, palpable and profound, like a wave breaking against a weary shore. Lydia's cries subsided into soft whimpers, her body relaxing slightly as the immediate agony began to fade, replaced by a deep, bone-weary exhaustion.
Polly bandaged Lydia’s side with meticulous care, her touch embodying both the clinical precision of a healer and the tender affection of a mother. As she tied off the bandage, she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Lydia's forehead. "There now, darling," she murmured, her voice a soothing lullaby. "It's done. You're such a brave girl."
Tommy's hold on Lydia did not waver; he kept her close, his cheek resting atop her head, his heart swelling with relief and pride. The tension that had gripped him slowly began to ease, though his arms remained wrapped protectively around her, a fortress against the world. "You did it, Lydia," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, each word a gentle caress. "It’s over, you did it."
Lydia nestled deeper into his embrace, her small body fitting perfectly against his. She was exhausted but comforted by the familiar presence of her family. "I was brave," she murmured, a small, tired smile playing on her lips, the pain of the moment already beginning to fade, replaced by the warmth of her brother's love and the safety of her family.
"The bravest," Tommy agreed, shifting slightly so she could rest more comfortably against him. His hand continued to stroke her hair, his touch gentle and reassuring, his presence a sanctuary of safety and love. As the room began to settle, the tension slowly dissipated like mist under the morning sun.
Ada leaned forward, brushing a stray lock of hair from Lydia's face, her touch tender and full of affection. "You were amazing, Lydia," she said, her voice a soft murmur that seemed to wrap around them all. Finn stood at the foot of the bed, his shoulders relaxing as the crisis passed, his eyes filled with admiration for his little sister's courage.
Gradually, the others began to leave the room, understanding that what Lydia needed most now was rest. They departed quietly, their footsteps soft against the floorboards, leaving Tommy and Lydia cocooned in the quiet intimacy of the dimly lit room.
As Lydia's eyelids grew heavy, her body finally succumbing to the pull of sleep, Tommy adjusted his hold, ensuring she was as comfortable as possible. In the quiet aftermath of chaos, as the candlelight flickered softly and the shadows danced less ominously, they were reminded once again of the power of family. Lydia drifted into a much-needed sleep, feeling safe and cherished, her brother's words echoing softly in her dreams.
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Tags: @novashelby @lau219 @peakyswritings
Please like, comment and reblog.
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novashelby · 21 days ago
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His Free Horse: Lydia & Bonnie
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“I heard you like horses, Miss. Shelby.” The Gypsy boy with a coy charm grinned, leaning against the wooden fence that kept the horses contained. Lydia hardly saw him so…relaxed? She couldn’t quite put the correct word, but she knew…. There, just the two of them, surrounded by greenery and a simple cottage that was home to two horses, she and him were at peace.
She walked over, bare feet soaking up the mud. Everyone joked about how he was just a tad taller than her-without shoes. Like vines, they snaked their arms around each other’s waists and kissed noses. “You name me a Shelby that doesn’t like horses and I’ll give you a shilling, Mr. Gold.”
The grin turned soft and gentle. “I could use a good few of those-”
“Shillings don’t do you good with your head knocked in.” Her smile turned down as she rested her forehead against his, closing her eyes. “I like you better here, Bonnie Gold. With me and nothing around us except the earth.”
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Merry Christmas, Daisy. This is a little gift from me to you to show you love much I truly appreciate your friendship. You and I have become not only great Tumblr friends, but just amazing friends in general. You truly mean a lot to me and words cannot stress that enough. I hope you enjoy this little gift. I love you. @wonderlanddreamer
Divider credit: @strangergraphics
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wonderlanddreamer · 2 months ago
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Spam my ask box pleeease. 🙏🏻
emojis oc ask game! These are unabashedly just the questions *I* want to ask about y’all’s ocs. Feel free to copy the entire question into the ask box, because this list is hefty and I wouldn’t mind not searching through it, hahaha. Remember to specify which oc(s) you’re asking about!
🌈 - Do you associate any colors with them?
👁️ - How do other people perceive this oc? How close do their first assumptions come to the truth?
💝 - How much effort do they put into appearances? Do they have a favorite article of clothing?
⚠️ - If this oc came with a warning sign, what would it be?
🌨️ - If this oc had a day free from all their responsibilities, how would they spend it?
💙 - Describe their bedroom! Is it personalized, unchanged? Messy, neat?
👖 - Coffee shop or high school AU, your choice: tell me their role.
☕ - What is their preferred beverage(s)?
🧁 - When is their birthday? How do they celebrate it, if at all?
🧠 - What is their stress response: fight, flight, freeze, or fawn?
💭 - How is their mental health? Do they struggle with guilt or shame?
💔 - Does forgiveness come easily or with difficulty to this oc? Can they forgive others? What about themselves?
❗- What are the highest priorities to this oc (at a point in their life of your choosing)?
⚔️ - How does this oc handle conflict?
🌍 - What are this oc’s religious views?
🌊 - Does this oc have a secret or repressed desire?
✨ - Tell something that makes this oc feel happy!
🧶 - Do they do any arts, crafts, or creative hobbies?
🍪 - What are their favorite scents?
☔ - How does this oc feel about rain?
🌲 - Do they have a favorite location to hang out in?
⚡ - Does this oc have any unusual or “irrational” fears?
🗡️ - Does this oc have a signature object, accessory, or weapon?
💛 - Are they ‘good with children’, or more awkward?
🧡 - Physical touch: good or bad for this oc?
👁️‍🗨️ - Eye contact: good or bad for this oc?
🐺 - How does this oc deal with solitude?
🔅 - How does this oc deal with physical pain?
🌱 - Share one of this oc’s early memories.
🐰 - How huggable is this oc?
🍁 - What is this oc’s favorite season?
🌕 - If this oc was an animal, what kind would they be?
🦷 - Would this oc ever bite someone?
🐉 - Very serious question… are they more like a dragon, or a unicorn?
🐸 - What’s this oc’s sense of humor like?
🚷 - Tell one difference between yourself and this oc!
📓 - Do you associate any quotes or lyrics with this oc?
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mischievouslittlecreature · 28 days ago
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Thank you for the ask, Daisy! I decided to do this for Lydia since she's the one I'm most familiar with!
I think that Lucy would adore Lydia! She'd have known her from the time that she was pretty young, and I'd like to think that because Lydia is so close to Tommy, she may have been one of the first of the Shelbys to recognize how important Lucy was to him. I think that Lucy would love taking her out horseback riding or doing other activities, and she'd spoil her rotten! And she'd make an effort to include Lydia sometimes when she and Tommy play games at the house, have dinner, etc.
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joyfulcoffeewizard · 7 days ago
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(credit goes to Shelby Scranton on Pinterest, which is where I downloaded the image from)
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wonderlanddreamer · 4 months ago
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Lydia Shelby is the younger sister of Finn, Ada, John, Tommy, and Arthur Shelby. She was raised alongside her siblings by their Aunt Polly. Lydia has always been closely connected to her family, particularly to Tommy. Her inquisitive nature and quick wit have been both a blessing and a curse, leading her into as much trouble as they have helped her escape. Above all, Lydia's unwavering loyalty means she would do anything for her family.
Important note: On Lydia's timeline, John Shelby lives.
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Echoes of a Shelby Heart - In the stillness of the Shelby family home, young Lydia's innocent curiosity leads her straight to Tommy's study. [1918]
Bridge Of Light - When Thomas Shelby finds his mind consumed by chaos, Lydia's presence soothes his storm and brings him peace. [1918]
A Girl and her Dog - The story of how Lydia (and Arthur) convinced Tommy to let her keep a Great Dane who followed her home. [1919]
Daddy Dearest - The unexpected return of their estranged father ignites tension within the Shelby household, particularly for Lydia, who faces the daunting presence of a man she's never known. [1919]
Busy Being Shelbys - In the shadow of giants, Lydia proves that courage comes in all sizes. [1919]
Little Soldier - In the aftermath of a violent ambush on their home, the Shelby family must act quickly to help Lydia, who has been struck by a bullet. [1923]
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Our Little Secret - Bonnie Gold should not have been boxing in an illegal, underground fight club, and Lydia Shelby certainly should not have been there watching. [1929]
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wonderlanddreamer · 2 months ago
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I want to write this scene with the addition of Lydia.
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-“I’m a changed man.”
-“This family needed you ten years ago when you walked out on it. Not now. Get out of this house.”
So much anger and pain in their faces.
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thedeviltohisangel · 3 months ago
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HE'S A GOD, HE'S A MAN
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Chapter One
He dared to let his thumb brush against the worn parchment of the monochromatic photograph. In his darkest moments he let himself think it was her cheek instead. Vividly imagined the slight flush from his touch. From the physical toll her work always took on her. The racing of her heart that pulled them closer and pushed them farther apart. 
Chapter Two
Lydia thought the quality of air in New York was rough but Birmingham was giving that thought a run for its money. She held a handkerchief over mouth and nose as she stood in front of the two family home that would be half hers for however long this operation took.
Chapter Three
Lydia took her time washing the blood from her hands in the kitchen sink. Tommy had locked himself in a room that she assumed acted as his office of sorts. She had rubbed her hands almost raw in the hopes he would show his face again. All she wanted to do was talk to him. She wasn’t looking to pick up exactly where they had left off. If he wanted nothing to do with her, the least he could do would be to say it to her face.
Chapter Four
Lydia was breathless by the time she made it to Watery Lane. She had practically ran. The faster she got away from Campbell then the faster she would be with Tommy. Where she should have been all these years.
Chapter Five
Lydia was peacefully changing the bandages on a wounded soldier when there was a shift in the air. The quiet hospital, save for the occasional groan when a patient tried to roll over, suddenly shifted like a fireball had rolled into it. Her fellow nurses were helping carry in three men that were limp in their hold. Blood caking their faces. Body parts pointing in directions they didn’t naturally point in.
Chapter Six
Tommy had thought a lot about what his first meeting with Campbell might look like. He had thought it over in his head a million different ways so no matter what tact it took, he wouldn’t be caught off guard. But now that he knew just how deeply Lydia was involved with the entire mess, it made things more difficult. He couldn’t risk upsetting the Inspector or she might suffer because of it. And he couldn’t risk showing the effect her return had him because that could put her in just as much danger.
Chapter Seven
The Garrison was alive and bustling and had its own personality. Lydia had never been happier to be at work. Maybe had never been happier in general. Things with Tommy with good. Touches and kisses and whispering silly sweet nothings were now normal aspects of any of their encounters. It felt so right and like it was the way things always should have been. 
Chapter Eight
Lydia could have basked in the new glow of love that surrounded her and Tommy for the rest of her life. Just the two of them standing nose placing gentle kisses to each others lips. It was soft and sweet and safe and so unlike the real world that they found themselves living in.
Chapter Nine
Lydia walked back from the dress shop with an extra spring in her step. Tomorrow her and Tommy would be going to the races and she had just found the most exquisite dress in the world to wear for it. Tommy had told her not to pick one that was red just because of Billy Kimber. That he didn’t want her standing out in the crowd like that. But Lydia knew the game that men like Billy and Tommy played. She knew the races were a backdrop for something bigger than she was yet able to understand. If wearing a red dress and batting her eyelashes made Kimber a bit more amenable to her Thomas then a red dress she would wear.
Chapter Ten
Tommy had been staring intently at Kimber’s house which he was parked in front of. He was trying to put a bit of distance between Lydia’s arrival and his. He couldn’t go in there guns blazing and light the entire business deal on fire.
Chapter Eleven
They couldn’t get close enough to each other even in their sleep. Still nude from the night before but now wrapped in a thick quilt, Tommy’s hands were resting on her bum and her arms were wrapped around his waist. Lydia’s head fit perfectly underneath his chin and her nose tickled his throat ever so slightly as she took deep breaths during the night. Both of them knew they’d be the luckiest pair in the world if they were allowed to wake up like this everyday for the rest of their lives. Maybe only putting space between them for a little one.
Chapter Twelve
It was difficult for Lydia to sneak away from Tommy after the events with the car. Luckily, she had had the help of Polly. Polly was beginning to get nervous for the safety of Ada and her unborn child if she kept down the path of trusting Freddie and not looking out for herself first and foremost. Which is why Polly had slipped Lydia a piece of information. The address of Stanley Chapman.
Chapter Thirteen
Lydia didn’t feel like celebrating at The Garrison. She was there all the time. Was there with Tommy all the time. The cause of his coin flip going in a positive direction was one that deserved a special celebration. She took him to her flat, Tommy surprised how homey it felt even though she rarely spent time there.
Chapter Fourteen
When the crowd of people and their voices began to approach the wagon where they were hiding out, Lydia and Tommy figured that meant it was time to join the party again. She smiled as brightly as she would and let Ada pull her closer to the fire for a dance and some warmth.
Chapter Fifteen
The rest of them knew Tommy wasn’t going to be thrilled to walk into the house and see that their father was in the kitchen. They had prepared themselves for that. But they hadn’t thought at all about the fact that it was very likely Lydia would be with him. That when Tommy was with Lydia, all bets were off.
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thesecretomoblog · 8 months ago
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Toilet chair lol.
And today’s Patreon preview.
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call-sign-shark · 2 months ago
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Hi Shark! I saw this on instagram the other day, and it reminded me of Heaven so much.
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Here's the link:
https://www.instagram.com/p/C5ntzlToJst/?igsh=MWhocmZkZnA2dXByMw==
Hello Lydia, I know I let your amazing message sit in my askbox for a while and I'm extra sorry about that. 🥹
I am so fond of the picture and it's pretty much Heaven in all her splendor. From the outfit to the hair and even the facial features I must say that it's so on point that it hurts. And what about that huge blade? Pretty sure she would loooooove that. Fun fact, the dress had the vibes of the dress I had in mind for her wedding with Arthur! Did you trespass on my skull and look into my mind? 🤭
Thank you again sweetie! It was super appreciated!
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wonderlanddreamer · 2 months ago
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When Lydia decides that Rusty needs to join in on the Halloween fun too. 🎃
With Halloween approaching, it was time to find costumes for my four legged OCs (Cyril isn't my OC, but God knows I treat him as one ❤️)
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In order: →
Cyril as cowboy || OscarWilde as harlequin || Bes is a witch || Beast as punk-pkin|| CPU as Rose (😂) || Minerva is a pizza.
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Cyril, CPU and Beast belong to Alfie and Rose.
OscarWilde belongs to Jared Walsh (paired with Tommy)
Bes belongs to Eames (or Eames belongs to Bes)
And Minerva belongs to Luca C (he has other two cats: Botticelli and Dante)
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mobox87 · 7 months ago
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BIG ANNOUCEMENT
Hello all! It's certainly been a while but I've come with good news!
There have been characters of Affinity that have been sold without others knowing, this has led others to get rather annoyed since they only think one person can buy these characters...
... Well, that ends today!
There are characters of Affinity that I don't have any use for anymore, the old designs from 2014-2020 that I don't use in my current AU have no use to me anymore, and I don't want for them to go to waste without a good home for them to have, which is why I've decided to announce that all the old designs from 2014-2020 that I don't use in my current AU are now available to be sold to the public!
Though, these designs have had a big impact on me, and I would like to say that I don't wish to sell them for anything less than $30. Please keep that in mind!
Thank you so much for reading, I hope these characters will be able to have good homes!
Please ask, I will make a long list of characters that have been sold to some people, in the meantime you can ask and I will let you know if it has been sold or not
list of SOLD characters (still going to be updated
SOLD!!! SOLD!!!
If some buyers want to put characters they already bought, let me know!
OPTA
Lian
Phantom Scott (FON)
Morbius (FON)
Bonter (FON)
Krungest (FON)
Beltren (FON)
Helltrap (FON)
Klames (FON)
GINNY (FON)
Delmare (FON)
Chica (The Fnaf School design)
Nightmare Springbonnie
Sammy (Old design)
Shadow Bonnie (Fnaf School design)
Shadow Bonnie (VERY OLD design)
Nightmare Freddy (Fnaf School design)
Fnaf 4 children (Chloe, The broen haired with The Plush toy AND little blonde GIRL (NOT Elizabeth) Old design)
Timothy
Son of one of The bullies
william's sister
William (Old design) The one you called Vincent
Steve
Plushtrap (Fnaf School design)
Shadow Freddy (High School design)
Renata's niece
Nightmare Bonnie (Fnaf School design)
Old Baby HK design
The girl inside the mangle (VERY old design)
Baby x Funtime Freddy fanchilds
Red bunny (Fnaf World)
Julia
Baby Fanchildren
Iris and rainbear (very old designs)
Kenny and hk mom (OLD design)
Cupcake (OLD design)
Springbonnie's fanchild
Bawn bawn and bonnet little age
Baldi's son (Old design)
Redbear
Puppet Old Child inside
Cajeta
Shelby's ex boyfriend (The one with red hair)
Phone guy (THE VERY OLD DESIGN)
VERY OLD DESIGN OF BRANDY (Black)
Lumy & shade
Bonnet (With vitiligo)
Old Vincent design with black hair
Oliv OLD DESIGN
yenndo (OLD DESIGN)
Female kenny
Thomas
Danny (Sallem and Tiffany's kid)
White Rabbit (Fnaf worldd
Kuromi (Red Rabbit, Fnaf world)
Young Renata
Young Eggs (2016, the one with the red striped shirtt)
Security (Fnaf worldd)
Jeremy (KS)
Jeremy Cyclops (FON)
Mike the knight (FON)
Angelica (a girl with black hair with pigtails and a blue shirtt, from They Shouldn't Know
Girl with Bonnie ears from Nights At Freddy's
Chris the puppet kidd
Dark Toastt
Erick (a character with blue and black hairr)
Frannie (TT)
Jaine (Renata's other neice)
Lydia
A boy with orange hair aand a girl with black hair from the Suicide Didn't Work video
An old Mike design (2014)
Tara (Vincent's sister)
An old Alex designn
Nightmare Freddy (Fnaf school designn)
Puppet x Ballora fankids
An old Alfred designn (with a green shirt and a blue hat)
Amatisaa (FON)
Abigail (the soul in Circus Baby in Sassy's Palace)
Stephanie (the soul in Bon Bon in Sassy's Palace)
Penelope (a student in Sassy's Palace)
Valen (a student in Sassy's Palace)
The people shown in the Machigera marketplace in the Beltren comic (everyone except the girl in the middle of the drawing)
The entirety of Ginny's crew that was with her when Beltren was killed (FON)
Ethan (the soul in Funtime Freddy in Sassy's Palace)
Shadow Freddy (old design)
Savy (a yellow rabbit that stood beside Tirsa in one image in FON)
The ruler of Treevelt with purple hair
One of Blurryface's kids (Sassy's Palace)
A humanized plush Foxy
Oliv's mom Old design
Oliv's sister
Yenndo OLD design
And to clarify, these characters will still be in my universe?
YES
But with a more elaborate design and clearly with other names, And some simply with other designs since I only sold ocs that didn't have much appearance And designs that will no longer be used for history Because they were already redesigned
I am unaware of the existence of many characters, if you remember any, you can ask me
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wonderlanddreamer · 6 months ago
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Busy Being Shelbys.
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[1919] Garrison Lane, Birmingham.
In the shadow of giants, six year old Lydia Shelby proves that courage comes in all sizes.
[Part of The Lydia Saga]
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The cobbled streets of Small Heath were alive with the sounds of a bustling day, a cacophony that painted a vivid picture of daily life in this vibrant part of Birmingham. Market vendors bellowed their wares from behind wooden stalls, their voices competing with one another in a bid to attract customers. Freshly baked bread, ripe fruits, and an array of colourful fabrics were just some of the treasures on display. The air was thick with the mingling scents of fresh produce, roasted meats, and the occasional whiff of coal smoke from a distant factory.
Children darted through the maze of adults, their laughter ringing out like the sweetest music. They played games of tag and hide-and-seek, their joy unburdened by the worries of the adult world. The rhythmic clip-clop of horse-drawn carriages added a steady beat to the day's soundtrack, while the faint clink of glasses and the murmur of conversation drifted from the open door of the Garrison Pub, where patrons sought respite and camaraderie.
Among the children was Lydia Shelby, a striking figure with her bright blue eyes and unruly dark hair that framed her face in wild, untamed waves. She was a miniature replica of her older brothers, though her features still retained the softness of childhood that had long since been etched away by the harsh realities of life for her siblings.
Lydia was lost in her game of hopscotch, her delicate leather shoes tapping out a rhythmic pattern against the uneven cobblestones. Each leap and skip seemed to lift her further into a world of her own making, where the only things that mattered were the chalk-drawn squares and the simple joy of play. Her giggles rang out like tiny bells, echoing down the narrow street and adding a layer of innocence to the otherwise gritty surroundings.
The market's vibrant noise began to fade as an unspoken tension gripped the air. Conversations stilled, and the clatter of commerce dulled to a murmur. Heads turned and eyes widened as a sleek black car, polished to a mirror shine, rolled to a stop in front of the Garrison Pub. The vehicle, an imposing presence amidst the horse-drawn carts and pedestrian traffic, seemed to absorb the light, casting an eerie shadow over the cobblestones.
A hush fell over the street, the silence broken only by the creak of the car door as it opened. Billy Kimber emerged first, his sharp suit impeccably tailored, accentuating his lean, muscular frame. His eyes, cold and calculating, swept across the scene with the precision of a hawk. He moved with the confidence of a man who knew he commanded respect, his very presence a silent threat.
Behind him, his men followed, each one a mirror of their leader’s predatory demeanor. They fanned out, creating a semi-circle that seemed to cordon off the area, their eyes scanning for any sign of the Shelbys. Kimber's face was a mask of determination, his jaw set as he prepared to confront his rivals. The air seemed to thicken with each step they took, the tension rising like a gathering storm.
Lydia, oblivious to the shift in the atmosphere, continued her game. Her small figure, clad in a simple dress, darted from square to square, her laughter a stark contrast to the growing unease that enveloped the street. She was a picture of pure, untainted joy, her world still untouched by the darker elements that lurked in the shadows of Small Heath.
Kimber’s gaze landed on Lydia, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Lydia looked up from her hopscotch grid as the long, dark shadows of Kimber and his men fell over her game, casting a chill despite the warm day. Her bright blue eyes blinked up at the unfamiliar faces, her expression more curious than afraid. Her unruly hair bounced as she straightened up.
Billy Kimber, sensing the girl's defiance, allowed a slow, amused smirk to spread across his face. He crouched down slightly, bringing his sharp, predatory eyes level with Lydia's. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. "A little girl all alone."
Lydia’s eyes narrowed slightly, her stance shifting as she planted her small hands firmly on her hips, a stance that was unmistakably Shelby. Despite her tender age, there was a steely resolve in her gaze, a flicker of the same fire that burned in her older brothers. She tilted her chin up defiantly. "I'm not alone," she said firmly, her voice steady and clear. "My brothers are inside."
Her unwavering gaze unsettled some of Kimber's men, their eyes darting between the girl and their leader. But Billy Kimber was not so easily intimidated, especially not by a child. He crouched down to her level, his eyes narrowing to scrutinize her more closely. "Do you know who I am, little girl?" he asked, his voice a low growl that usually elicited immediate submission.
Lydia nodded without hesitation. "You're Billy Kimber," she stated simply, her tone devoid of the fear that usually accompanied his name. "You run the races."
Kimber's smirk widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "That's right. And do you know why I'm here?"
Lydia shrugged, a gesture so casual it bordered on insolent, her small shoulders lifting and falling as if to say that his presence was of little consequence to her. "You're probably looking for my brothers. But they're busy."
One of Kimber's men chuckled, but it was a nervous, hesitant sound, the laughter of someone unsure whether to be amused or alarmed. Kimber's smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of irritation. He was accustomed to fear and respect, not this calm defiance from a mere child. "Busy with what?" he asked, his patience thinning, his tone sharper now.
Lydia’s eyes met his unflinchingly, her voice carrying an edge of pride. "Busy being Shelbys," she replied, as if that explained everything. And in a way, it did.
Kimber's eyes darkened, his amusement giving way to a simmering menace. He extended a hand, intending to ruffle Lydia's hair in a gesture meant to assert his dominance rather than convey any genuine affection. His fingers, adorned with rings that gleamed ominously in the daylight, reached towards her.
But before he could make contact, Lydia took a deliberate step back, her eyes locked onto his with a mixture of defiance and warning. The movement was subtle, yet it spoke volumes. Her small frame seemed to grow taller, her presence more commanding, as if channeling the collective strength of her family.
"You shouldn't touch me," she said softly, her voice steady and clear. The softness of her tone contrasted sharply with the steel in her words. "My brothers wouldn't like it."
Kimber's hand hung in the air for a moment, frozen by the quiet authority in her voice. He slowly retracted it, his fingers curling into a fist at his side.
At that moment, the door of the Garrison swung open with a force that made the hinges groan in protest. Out stepped Thomas Shelby, flanked by Arthur and John, their presence immediately commanding the attention of everyone in the vicinity. The three brothers moved with a lethal grace, their expressions murderous, their postures taut with barely contained fury. The atmosphere grew dense with a palpable tension, forewarning of the storm that was about to break.
"Kimber," Tommy began, his voice slicing through the air like a blade of cold steel. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Each word was enunciated with an icy precision that sent shivers down the spine of anyone within earshot.
Billy Kimber straightened up, attempting to reclaim his swagger now that he was facing adults. His sneer was a thin veneer over the unease that gnawed at him. "Just having a chat with your little sister, Tommy," he said, his voice carrying a faux lightness that did nothing to mask the underlying threat.
Tommy's gaze turned to ice, his eyes narrowing with a deadly calm. He took a deliberate step forward, closing the distance between them. The intensity of his stare was enough to make even the bravest of men falter. "Keep away from her, get back in your fucking cars, and leave," Tommy said, his tone a low, menacing growl that left no room for misinterpretation.
Kimber laughed, but it was a hollow sound. He knew better than to push his luck with the Shelbys. "I'll see you soon, pikey," he said, but there was no real conviction in his words. With a sharp gesture, he signaled his men to follow him back to the car.
As the car sped away, its engine roaring and tires screeching, a cloud of dust hung in the air, slowly settling back onto the cobblestone street. The square, which had been a tense battleground moments ago, began to return to its usual hustle and bustle, though an undercurrent of unease still lingered.
Lydia stood frozen for a moment, watching the black car disappear around a corner. The adrenaline that had surged through her tiny frame started to ebb, leaving her legs shaky and her heart pounding in her chest. Her earlier bravado was giving way to a wave of relief.
She turned and ran to her brothers, her small feet making soft, rapid taps against the cobblestones. Tommy, Arthur, and John watched her approach, their expressions softening in unison. Tommy crouched down just as Lydia reached him, and with a gentle but firm grip, he lifted her into his arms. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, feeling the rapid beat of her heart against his chest.
"Good girl, Lydia," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the tension that still clung to the air. "You did us proud,"
Lydia's lips curved into a small, proud smile as she wrapped her arms around Tommy's neck, seeking the comfort and security that only her brothers could provide. She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. "I know," she said confidently, her voice a mix of lingering fear and newfound courage. "I was brave, just like you."
The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting an amber glow over Small Heath as Tommy took one last vigilant sweep of the streets for any lingering danger. Satisfied, he turned and carried Lydia towards the Garrison, Arthur and John close behind. As they stepped inside, the familiar scent of whiskey and smoke enveloped them. Lydia, nestled in Tommy's arms, exchanged a glance with John, who walked just behind them. She smiled, a mix of relief and affection, and John responded with a warm grin, ruffling her hair gently. Inside the Garrison, with the comforting hum of conversations and clinking glasses around them, the weight of the day's tension began to lift, leaving them with a fleeting sense of tranquility.
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teecupangel · 27 days ago
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Do you think ac x peaky blinders would work? Like with the frye twins? (ghost kenway nonny)
If we’re setting this around Season 1, Jacob and Evie would be around 75+ years old by then.
But we do have a certain Frye that can interact with the Peaky Blinders:
Lydia Frye.
She already has dealings with Churchill so it won’t be that strange that her connection to Churchill will be the reason why she would investigate the Shelbys.
I think around season 2 or 3 would be the best place to put her though, after Grace’s betrayal, making this a case of Churchill asking Lydia for help because he realized that the Shelbys may become even stronger if they’re not kept in check.
Of course, just because they’re on their 70s, doesn’t mean the Frye twins can’t join her.
“We just want to visit our old haunts, that’s all.”
Lydia doesn’t think anything of it. She trusted her grandfather and grand-aunt to know what’s best for them.
Also, Evie’s grandson is with them and he has a good head on his shoulder so it should be fine.
It was not find.
Jacob sees the Peaky Blinders and immediately recognized where he heard the name Shelby before.
After Jack corrupted the Rooks and killed those who opposed his reign of terror, the Brotherhood had to destroy what remains of the Rooks to ensure the safety of London.
It had broken Jacob’s heart and Evie told him that it was fine if he wanted her to take care of it. He shook his head.
The Rooks were his responsibility. It was only right that he ended things.
That was why he realized why the Shelbys looked familiar.
During the final days of the Rooks, Jacob ordered that the children who were being used by the Rooks as messengers and spies to be sparred. The Brotherhood agrees because, while these children had aspirations to be part of the malicious merciless Rooks that Jack created from the corpses of those who followed the Fryes before, they hadn’t done anything wrong. They were still young.
They still deserved a chance.
One of those children was a boy only called ‘Shelly’.
It was a nickname that would sometimes be used in fondness and sometimes as an insult.
He wasn’t sure if Shelby was the boy’s real last name or if he took on the name Shelby to run away from the stigma of being the Rooks’ Shelly.
Regardless, Jacob recognized his… children? Grandchildren? Jacob wasn’t entirely sure if they were his direct relatives or if they were cousins or something similar.
But now Jacob believes that it is his responsibility to look into this and, if the Shelbys do prove to be detrimental to the safety of the populace, end their power just as he did with the Rooks.
He tries to hide it from Evie but she found out early on.
It wasn’t all the hard to considering Evie found the Shelbys quite familiar, especially the one called Tommy. Realizing they might be related to the Rooks’ Shelly, Evie realized that Tommy definitely looked like Shelly so they might be directly related or something.
And that’s how the Frye twins start investigating the Shelbys while hiding it from Lydia who is… technically doing the same thing but the Brotherhood had given her permission to take out the Shelbys if necessary.
They did not agree to the chaotic Frye twins to be part of the mission.
And then there was Evie’s grandson who is… well… there to keep the chaos to a minimum.
At the very least… he’ll try.
(His best threat is “I’ll tell Lydia everything” and that usually gets everyone to back off XD)
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wonderlanddreamer · 23 days ago
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Florence: John.
Lydia: Tommy or Johnny Dogs.
who is the one person your oc can call at any time and they'll pick up?
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sl-newsie · 1 month ago
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American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 46: Grim Tidings
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Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share
We get back inside and out of the growing cold. Thomas walks back to his desk while I carry my trunk up to the guest room despite his insisting to make Lydia help me. Part of me hopes Thomas will at least call Arthur and John to wish them ‘Merry Christmas.’ What’s it going to take for him to break down and talk to them? 
After I set my trunk on the massive bed I go back downstairs hoping to find Charlie. Maybe he’s playing with Thomas? I poke my head in, only to find Thomas staring at something on his desk.
“Did you get a Christmas card?” I ask and look down at the strangely dull paper. What kind of holiday card is that? All that’s on it is- 
My breath hitches and I freeze in my tracks. A black handprint. That’s a black hand… From a mister Luca Changretta. Jesus Christ. That means…
Thomas looks up and sees my petrified face. “Do you recognize this?”
I can’t tear my eyes away from the foreboding symbol. As a child I remember the one thing Uncle Colon preached above everything else was the danger of the black hand.
“I know what that is,” I whisper dreadfully and back away from the desk. “It’s a sign from the Sicilian mafia. They’re spreading like wildfire back home. The FBI doesn’t want to admit the mob exists but it’s clear as day. Uncle Colon specifically ordered for my neighborhood to be guarded from them.” 
I back against the wall and clutch my chest before my heart can burst out. A black hand. There’s a black hand addressed to Thomas. I work for Thomas. Does that mean my family is going to be served a black hand too?!
Thomas walks around the desk and approaches me cautiously. “You’re safe here, Verena. I promise.”
My eyes flash with panic. “Is it just you?”
He groans and rubs his furrowed brow. “How the fuck would I know?”
My jaw drops. This is not the time to be held back by the family’s falling out! If there was ever a time to bury the hatchet, this is it! And if he doesn’t snap out of it right now I’m going to slap it out of him!
“Do you even know how the mafia works?” I ask sternly. “I don’t know how up to date you are with things but the Italians hate the Irish. My people. Thomas, they aren’t just a gang. They’re like a company. Run like a well-oiled machine. Family and tradition is everything to them. Instead of burning a building or blowing up a train they kill entire families and leave one man standing to see it all happen. One minute they’re chatting friendly over wine, the next they’re jamming a breadstick down your throat. These men are sophisticated savages.”
Thomas looks up at me, then back at the card, then at the floor. “I need to make a call.”
I tug at his sleeve. “Thomas. Listen to me. I am not exposing my family to this. Being tied to you could put them at risk too.”
I reach for the phone but Thomas snatches my hand. “If your family’s involved they would have already called. Do you want to alert them to it if they have nothing to worry about?”
Damn. He’s right. If moeder doesn’t know about this then she’ll lose her marbles if I call her to say I’m working for a man involved in a vendetta. But I can’t be expected to just keep quiet!
I raise my voice. “Thomas-!” 
“I know!” He shouts and his grip on me tightens. “You just got here, wanting to help, and now this black hand’s fucked everything up. It’s too dangerous for you to go back home because Changretta might be looking for you.”
He pulls me closer and all but digs his fingernails into my skin. “Do not ask me to have to receive a letter testifying that your body was found drifting at sea. Just- Just let me figure this out and I will keep you safe.”
How far does he expect to stretch my trust?! This is my own family we’re talking about! And unlike him I do not have an estrangement with them. Why would I-?!
“Daddy? Veena?”
My head flinches to look over where Charlie is peeking behind the corner. Oh God. I’m not letting him hear of this too. Not after what happened last time. If this Changretta fellow lays a finger on him I’ll rip each one off and plunge a bullet through his skull.
“Charlie!” Thomas cuts out my thoughts and makes a performance to get me to stop talking about the black hand. “How about we start getting ready for bed, yeah? Verena-” He looks at me desperately. “Any Dutch traditions for us?”
I bite my tongue. Very well, Thomas. I will stay quiet… for now.
“Actually I did bring some Christmas cookies,” I smile mischievously and Charlie’s eyes widen. “You’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Ah…” I dig around for any traditions they wouldn’t know. “To say ‘Merry Christmas,’ in the Netherlands we say ‘Vrolijk Kerstfeest.’ We still abide by the legend of Santa Claus but the Dutch version is called Kerstman.” I dramatically spread my arms. “He is tall and slender with a long white beard. He wears dark red robes and a tall hat similar to a bishop’s. Children leave their shoes out and fill them with hay and carrots for his horse. When he visits, he fills the shoes with gifts and treats.”
Charlie tugs on his father’s arm. “Can I leave my shoes out tonight?”
“Sure thing, son.” Thomas pats his back.
I keep thinking. “As for some traditions on my moeder’s side, we leave a candle in the window to represent guiding Mary and Joseph on their way to Bethlehem. It’s inspired by an old Celtic ritual of lighting a way for the spirits to pass peacefully. We also hang a holly and ivy wreath outside the house to represent the crown of thorns.” My smile falters at the memory of past Christmases. “All of my family that resides in America gathers in our home in Brooklyn for a Christmas feast of roast pork, vegetables, mince pies, and homemade breads.”
Thomas spots my melancholiness and takes that as the cue to lead Charlie towards the parlor. Now that I’m not panicking I notice the sprigs of holly and evergreens decorating the bookshelves. Almost just like home. Maybe this doesn’t have to be such a sad Christmas after all?
“Veena! Come on!” Charlie calls.
I take one last deep breath. “Coming!”
I hurry after them and look up to see- Oh my! That’s one of the most beautiful Christmas trees I’ve ever seen! It’s gorgeous! 
“Here we are, Charlie.” Thomas hands his son a small place with a mince pie on it. “Your job is to leave these out for Santa, yeah?”
Charlie does as he’s told, along with taking off his shoes and leaving them next to the fireplace. I wonder if my young nieces and nephews are doing the same thing right now… 
“Goodnight, Charlie.” Thomas hugs him close. “Merry Christmas. I love you.”
The innocent child waves goodnight to me as Francis leads him up to bed. Thomas slumps down in an armchair with a whiskey in hand, staring at the ceiling.
“That’s really sweet of you,” I smile softly. “He’s living a childhood. You even kept the Christmas magic alive for him.”
“Charlie deserves everything.”
I nod. “He’s growing up so fast.”
Suddenly the sound of an approaching car causes Thomas to quickly get up again and look out the window. Could it be hitmen?
“Who is it?” I whisper and creep closer.
Thomas spins around and makes me sit in his chair. “Stay here.”
He storms into the other room, comes back with a small gun and goes back to the window. Thomas takes another look and sighs in relief, walking back to pour another whiskey.
“It’s Ada.”
Frances walks in with a concerned frown. “Mr. Shelby, it’s your sister.”
“I know. Send her in.”
And in walks Ada, just as I left her earlier. Thomas doesn’t wait for proper greetings and gets straight to the point.
“I’ve had a card, Ada,” he says and hands her a drink. “I’m guessing John and Arthur have had one as well.”
Ada tilts her head. “‘Hello, Tommy.’ ‘Hello, Ada, welcome home.’ Thanks, it’s nice to be back,” she drones sarcastically and nods at me. “I see you and Verena have already caught up. 
“I spoke to Moss,” Thomas explains to both of us as Ada goes to place her gifts under the tree. “Moss says that Changretta is a soldier for the Spinietta family, which means that he’ll have men with him, professional men. They usually operate in units of ten.”
I shake my head worryingly, staring at the crackling fire. “You don’t know half of what the Sicilians are capable of.”
Thomas ignores my comment. “Moss is checking Cunard records to see if they’re already in England.”
Ada, appearing surprisingly calm to this, hands Thomas a small package. “This one’s for you.”
Thomas takes it and eyes it skeptically. “What is it? Time machine?”
“My God, Tommy Shelby, is that regret?” We’re both thinking it.
He sets the present on the desk. “I’ll open it tomorrow.”
Ada presses her lips together. “So, boss, in light of the changed circumstances, what are your orders?”
Thomas leans against his desk, deep in thought, and looks between Ada and I. “Changretta knows where we all live.”
“As well as my family,” I murmur.
Ada notices my distraught nerves and her brow furrows. “But-?”
“I’m tied to the black hand because of my employment here, and because of my uncle,” I explain. “My family will bear the burden, same as yours.”
“We won’t let that happen.” Thomas walks around the desk and kneels down to look straight at me. “If we stay out in the open, isolated, he’ll pick us off one by one. We need to be together in a place even they won’t dare to come.”
My eyes narrow in bafflement. “Are you saying I should ask my family to just up and leave our home?”
Ada’s confused as well. “You mean back home? Our home?”
Thomas looks at me again. “I know it’s technically yours now but-”
“I kept the deed in your safe,” I confess with a shy smile. “Just in case you lot still needed a place on Watery Lane. Of course you can use it.”
He nods gratefully and continues. “Within a four-mile radius of the Garrison. Every man is a guard and soldier for us. I’m calling a family meeting. Charlie’s Strong’s Yard, Boxing Day. Finn’s already there. You tell Polly and Michael, I’ll deal with John and Arthur.”
This is what it takes. A bloody death threat on the entire family. This is what drives him to speak to his brothers. Ada catches my eye and mouths ‘calm down,’ probably because my face looks like I could commit murder. I selflessly came here to bring people together and instead I’m being forced into a vendetta. 
“And Esme and Linda?” Ada asks before I can say anything.
Thomas’ voice raises. “Anyone who wants to live to see another Christmas needs to come where it’s safe. These bastards will kill kids as well. When this business is finished we- We can go our separate ways.”
Damn it, Thomas! None of this would have happened if you hadn’t been so headstrong on revenge for Grace’s death! In fact, all of this is because Lizzie wanted to go out with an Italian. How did I end up here? Because I’m a delirious idiot who’s trying to fix someone who might be permanently broken.
“Do you think I’m on the list?” Ada asks in her own tone of fear. Now she catches on.
Thomas’ gaze hardens. “We’re all on the list, Ada. Just ask Verena.”
She huffs in frustration. “I gave my gun to Arthur.”
Without a word, Thomas reaches in his desk and pulls out a pistol. He checks to see it's loaded before passing it over with a blank expression.
“Welcome home.”
Ada still looks perturbed and I can’t blame her. She pockets the gun and I stand up to follow her.
“I’ll walk you out.” We get to the hall and I lean in closer. “How’s Arthur?”
She scoffs lightly. “He’s a chicken farmer now. He seems to be coping better, although Linda’s still got him on a tight leash. This whole black hand thing’s sure to get Arthur stressed.”
My face darkens once more. “We all are.”
After she leaves I walk back to the parlor to find Thomas standing by the phone. He sees me walk in and points to me.
“What ‘bout you, Verena? You’ve got a gun?”
I tartly reach under my wool skirt and pull my own pistol from my leg holster. “Smith and Wesson. American-made.”
The tiniest hint of a smirk dances across his lips. “Just the way you like it. How appropriate. I’m going to call John.” He dials the number and waits a good long minute before giving up. “Fuck.”
“No answer? Maybe they’re asleep.”
He ignores me and dials another number. “Get me through to Maypole 245.”
I shouldn’t be listening to these conversations. While Thomas waits for Arthur to pick up I move to his office to look at the wretched card once more. My motive is my own family’s safety. If that means I have to give up my own safety by staying here and keeping quiet then I cannot fight it. 
The phone clicks again and I take that as a signal to rejoin Thomas. He looks sad and tired.
“Did he pick up?” I ask softly.
He takes a drink. “Yeah.”
“You sounded nervous.”
“‘M not nervous to talk to me own brothers,” Thomas grumbles. He looks up at my pointed stare and grudgingly looks to the ceiling. “Fine. I was a little nervous.”
“On a different matter… Thomas, my family will not leave. They’ve worked too hard to make it to where we are. They would rather face conflict than leave Brooklyn. So… I will stay here, not a word to them, and trust that you know what you’re doing.”
Thomas sets his drink down and gently grips my shoulders, peering straight at me with pleading eyes. “Just trust me. I promise I will do everything I can to make sure they’re not connected.”
Can I really trust him? Trust in him always seems to lead to the darkest of places. Is my love for him enough to provide reasoning for trust or is it clouding my judgment?
“I’m retiring for the night.” I take his calloused hand and give it an uncertain squeeze. “Merry Christmas, Thomas.”
He leans his head in closer. Not enough to touch my forehead but enough for his icy blue eyes to be the only things I can see. “Merry Christmas.”
Every part of the festive feeling I felt earlier today is gone. Suddenly this jolly season has become full of benevolence. I cannot think about some petty romance now! As I make my way to my room and prepare for sleep, the dread of hearing any news from home gnaws at my stomach. All I can do now is pray that tomorrow brings more answers. It will be good to see Finn again...
@meadows5
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