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red-write-hand · 6 months

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Day One: I’ll be home for Christmas: Thomas Shelby

pairing -> thomas shelby x reader

warnings -> tommy being diabetic levels of sweet, talks of pregnancy, tommy and his fairly good voice, mariah Carey, santa baby (sorry y’all)

word count -> 908

A/N: this is absolutely dedicated to @birminghamshelbyboys love you to bits bestie :]

The snow fell slowly, dancing lazily as it sparkled and spiraled. It was like perfection brought down from the heavens. Birmingham was never this perfect. It had its cracks and flaws. It had its imperfections, but from your view, snow covered fields and pine trees caked in the white powder to perfection, there was no better place to be for Christmas than in Birmingham. You pulled the comfortingly warm, knit blanket around your shoulders. It was threadbare but it was yours.

You had forgotten the amount of times you had wrapped Tommy’s sleeping form up when he fell asleep doing work. Whenever you wrapped it around you, cozying up with a book and a mug of hot chocolate, it was almost like he was here. The blanket now was interwoven with his scent, so whenever you close your eyes it was like you could hear his voice in your ear tell you he had gotten home safe and there was no reason to worry about him. He would give such light kisses whenever he came home early, like he was worried you were fragile until a certain hour. His hands would glide and caress you like all he wanted to do was admire you.

That is how some colder nights would end, with him sitting on the counter and him just studying your every movement. Like you were some priceless piece of art that he would cherish until the day he died. In actuality, that is what he thought of you.

The sound of an approaching car brought you out of daydreams and had a smile growing on your face. That meant your husband was home. Your Tommy. The man who loves nothing more than to hold you in his arms and make you feel like the most special woman in the world. The door opened and closed, coming with it a rush of icy wind and a flurry of quiet Romani cursing and a few stray snowflakes.

You padded in your cozy socks towards the kitchen, wanting to make your husband some hot chocolate because you, now don’t get it wrong, you loved him but you were not about to share your hot chocolate. As you clattered around to find all the supplies to make the best hot chocolate for your adoring husband, you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you up fast to a large, warm chest.

Taking a deep breath, trying to keep his scent in your nose for as long as possible, you could tell instantly that it was your darling. You leaned into his chest, relaxing completely. You were able to collapse in his chest because you knew he would catch you, he would always catch you, no matter what. You were always the warmest in his arms. Somehow, it was just warmer with him around. Just as fast as the comfort was there, just as quickly slipped away when Tommy went to put on a record. It was a slow, jazzy version of ‘I’ll be home for Christmas.’ Once the Shelby had taken hold of your waist, that’s when you two started to sway, just barely but it was there.

He would plant small, lingering kisses on your jaw, just to make sure that you hadn’t fallen asleep yet. Right now, all you wanted to do is curl up in his arms and forget the world existed, forget the world needed the two of you, forget that you needed to live up to any expectations. He whispered soft things into your ear. Things about how much he loves you, how gorgeous you are to him, how delicate you look, how delicious you are. You both swayed slightly as the song continued to play. As the song ended, you gave him a small, tired kiss. A kiss from a woman who was happy to have her darling back safe.

He held her face in his strong hands and looked at her like she was the most beautiful, most precious, most perfect thing in the world. They hadn’t even noticed that something else had started playing. He chuckled and started humming the song. You groaned. You could only take so much Mariah at this point. You switched it and the next song was Santa Baby. Behind you, Tommy started to hum. His voice wasn’t half bad but it was a little too low to reach the high notes. You giggled and turned to face your adoring husband.

Your hands dragged down his chest as you also started to hum along. It was a quiet moment of calm, of peace, of ease, but more importantly passion, love, adoration from both parties. You kissed his nose gently as his palms gently pressed against the small of your back.

Without saying anything, brought one of his hands over to your stomach and gave him a look that spoke of pure joy and love. His cornflower blue eyes started to get a little watery. You two had been trying for months to no avail. Eventually, you both had agreed that it just wasn’t in the cards but now- now everything has changed. He, with all the poise and grace of a prince with his bride, kissed you. It was hard and passionate but it was also soft and sweet. It said “Our hard work has finally paid off” and it said “I love every single member of our little family.” It was perfect. A perfect Christmas Eve.

#12 days of Cill-mas #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #cillian murphy #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby smut #mutuals #peaky blinder imagine

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scotianostra · 5 years

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A Gaelic Poem on the Massacre of Glencoe.

There are few events in the history of the Scottish Highlands more notorious than the Massacre of Glencoe, it has been the subject of, books, songs and poems, like this one by the Gaelic poet Iain Lom, Bàrd na Ceapaich,reading about the history of people are as interesting as the verse they wrote, although many of them may not have been able to read or write, the poems being passed through the storytellers. Lom, anglicised to Iain Lom MacDonald was a native of Lochaber and was born about the year 1624. He was a descendent of Iain Àlainn or 'Handsome John', the deposed chief of Keppoch.

While historical documentary evidence on his life is nearly non-existent, what we do know is largely based on oral tradition.

Iain Lom had extensive knowledge of the Bible, Scottish history and was well acquainted with all the political and contemporary events of his day. He was a man of strong convictions and sincerity who had a vast amount of influence over the Jacobite chiefs of his time. He had superior poetic abilities and was a renowned Gaelic bard.

It is thought by some that he had a good education, but it's more likely that he could neither read nor write. It's not clear whether he was married but he had a son who fought under John Graham, 7th Laird of Claverhouse better known as 'Bonnie Dundee' in the Battle of Killiecrankie in 1689 and had considerable poetic skills himself.

After being involved in the notorious events commemorated in 'Murtadh na Ceapaich', (The Keppoch Murder) Iain Lom was forced to flee from Lochaber and seek protection under the MacKenzies of Seaforth in Kintail. Once the hostility against him had cooled down and after living a dangerous life full of political and domestic troubles, he finally returned from exile but died in extreme poverty in about 1710. He was buried in Cille Choirill in a place named 'Tom Aingeal' in the braes of Lochaber. I will add a link at the end to the story behind 'Murtadh na Ceapaich', from the excellent Calum Maclean Project

The poem is posted in the format I found it with the stanzas numbered. For those that have the Gaelic, or can even pick up a few words it might be of interest, if not skip down to the translation.

Original Text

1. ’S mi ’am shuidh’ air a’ chnocan Chaidh mo léirsinn an olcas Is mi mar aon mhac an trotain air m’ fhàgail.

2. Tha mi coimhead a’ ghlinne Far am b’ aighearach sinne Mur bhith mì-rùin na fine ’s an robh an fhàilinn.

3. Rinn na Duibhnich oirnn leadairt Ar fuil uasal ’ga leagail ’S bha Gleann Lìomhann ’na sheasamh mar cheannard.

4. Ach nam b’ ionnan d’ ur macnas ’S nuair bha mise ’nur taice Nàile! Rachadh iad dhachaidh ’nan deann-ruith.

5. Bhiodh MacFhilip le ’bhrataich Air tùs na fine neo-ghealtaich Ged a fhuair iad an nasgadh le ainneart.

6. A MhicEanraig nam feadan ’S tric a bha mi ’s tu beadradh Leis a’ mhuinntir a ghreas don taigh-shamhraidh.

7. Clann Iain nan gadhar Rinn na h-uaislean a thadhal Gu moch Di-Sathairn’ a’ chuthaich gun chàirdeas.

8. Dh’fhàg sibh marcaich’ an eich uaibhrich Reubt’ air ruighe nan ruadh-bhoc Ann an sneachda trom fuar nam beann àrda.

9. Dh’fhàg sibh làraichean dubha Far am b’ àbhaist duibh suidhe ’N comann luchd an fhuilt bhuidhe chais amlaich.

10. Fhir Bhail’ Fearna nam badan Bu cheann-fheadhn’ thu air brataich Is chaidh smùid a chur ri t’ aitreabh ’na smàlaibh.

11. Bha do cho-bhràthair guailte Deagh fhear Bhaile nam Fuaran Leam is goirt e, ’s an uair air dhroch càradh.

12. Ach mas deònach le’r Rìgh e Bidh là eile ’ga dhìol sin Agus Maighdeanan lìobhte ’cur cheann diubh.

13. Bidh na Tuirc air an dathadh ’S bidh Rìgh Uilleam ’na laighe ’S bidh cùird mhór air an amhaich dhen an-toil.

14. B’ e mo rogha sgeul éibhneis Moch Di-Luain is mi ’g éirigh Gun tigeadh Rìgh Seumas ’s na Frangaich.

15. ’S gum biodh iomain ball-fhaiche Air fir mheallt’ nam balg craicinn Loisg ar n-arbhar ’s ar n-aitreabh ’s a’ gheamhradh.

English Translation

(1) I sit on the hillock, my eyesight has failed me, as I am left behind like a toddling only son.

(2) I gaze at the glen where we would be merry, if not for the ill-will of the blemished clan.

(3) The Campbells massacred us, our noble blood being shed, as (Campbell of) Glenlyon stood as commander.

(4) If only you prospered as you did when I was with you, they would go homeward in a rush!

(5) MacKillop would have his war-banner in the vanguard of the indomitable clan, even though they were hemmed in by violence.

(6) O Henderson of the (bagpipe) chanters, often did we sport and play with those folk who hastened to the summer abode (i.e., sheiling).

(7) Clan Donald of Glencoe, (owners) of greyhounds, were visited by the nobility until the early Saturday of brutal frenzy.

(8) You left the horseman of the proud spirited chargers gored on the sheilings of the roe-bucks in the cold, heavy snows of the great mountains.

(9) You left charred ruins where you were once seated in the company of the people of flowing, ringleted, blonde hair.

(10) O tacksman of Baile Fhearna of the thickets, you were the war-bannered war-leader, and your abode was burnt to ashes.

(11) Your dear companion, the goodly tacksman of Baile nam Fuaran, was charred (by fire): an ill hour it was that makes me sore.

(12) But if our King grants it, there will be another day to avenge that, when the sharpened Maidens will behead them.

(13) The boars (i.e., Campbells) will be stained (with blood) and King William brought down, and there will be heavy cords around their necks bringing them misery.

(14) It would be my choice of good news, awakening early on Monday morning, that King James and the French would come.

(15) And that the deceiving men of haversacks, who burnt our corn and our homes in the winter, would be driven back (as though playing) a ball-game.

Catch more about Lom and The Keppoch Murders here https://calumimaclean.blogspot.com/2013/09/murt-na-ceapaich-keppoch-murder-1663.html

#Scotland #Glencoe massacre #History #gaelic #poem #poetry

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red-write-hand · 6 months

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12 days of Cill-mas Masterlist

Here is gonna be the working list of all my 12 days of Cill-mas. Everyday will be split between naughty and nice. It goes Fluff, Smut, Fluff…etc. Green means Fluff and Red means Smut.

Day One: I’ll be home for Christmas: Thomas Shelby

Day Two: Santa Baby: Jackson Rippner

Day Three: White Christmas: Neil Lewis

Day Four: Winter Wonderland: Kitty Braden

Day Five: It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year: Robert Fischer

Day Six: Dick in a Box (technically a christmas song-): “Pig” Darren

Day Seven: The Christmas Song: Oppenheimer

Day Eight: Let it Snow! Let it Snow!: Jonathan Crane

*The very fun parts. These will be a mix of fluffy smut with more than one character (doesn’t have to be a Cillian character)*

Day Nine: God Rest Ye All Gentlemen: Jonathan Crane + Jackson Rippner

Day Ten: It’s Beginning to look a lot like Christmas: Thomas Shelby (he takes a whole ‘nother chapter to himself)

Day Eleven: Wonderful Christmastime: Robert Fischer + most of the Dream Crew TM

Day Twelve: Happy Holidays: Thomas Shelby (we all knew he would finish it out)

And the bigggggg announcement…all y’all are gonna fight it out for 13-25. Everyday. A different poll. Either smut or fluff. If you have a specific idea, send it into my inbox! I do have six extra days after Christmas just for that!

LET THE CHRISTMAS GAMES BEGIN

tag list: @birminghamshelbyboys @blueeyesandaflatcap @forgottenpeakywriter @henrywintersdearestgirl @pinguwrites @aphroditeslover11 @thatwitchybitch420 @no-fooking-fighting @cilldistilled @cillianmurphyadmirer @cillianmurphyswifesblog @mrkdvidal1989 @ninja-potato-shelby-solomons @atsv-enthusiast

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