#danny garrison | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

separatetheyolk · 5 months ago

Text

A Glass A Day Keeps The Shovels Away | Thomas Shelby x M!Reader

ʚɞ featuring: Thomas Shelby

ʚɞ warnings: PTSD, nightmares, dissociation, alcoholism, drugs, cigarettes, semi-descriptive violence, self distructive tendencies, war

ʚɞ notes: this isnt F1 but a peaky blinders one-shot came on my feed and it inspired me to write a little something. I dont see enough of domestic, kind, sweet Thomas one-shots even though we've seen that side plenty of times in the show so i deicded to write it myself lol

ʚɞ requests are open

The war had an affect on everyone. Soldiers, families, economy. Post-war Birmingham was an absolute shambles with little to help the men who'd put their lives on the line after their return and even less to help the families of those who didn't. Streets filled with drunken men stumbling around in a desperate attempt to stay awake. Women prostituting themselves to strangers in a haze of grief to forget the husband who died for Britain’s cause and to keep their families afloat. Screams and cries throughout the night that leaked through thin walls and spilling onto the street from soliders who'd suffered more than they had to.

And you? You knew those nightmares all too well. You knew the terror and fear. You could hear the shovels and picks. You could hear the mumbling of german through the wall. Sounding meer inches from your ear. You could feel the rough texture of Tommy's muddy shirt pinched between your thumb and pointer finger before hell rained down on your head. The mud bogged your feet and mind down. The sound of a gunshot and the cry of Freddie Thorne. The gunpowder that filled your nose. The knife in your back, scar still etched in your skin. You could feel it sometimes against the backrests of chairs. The way your skin didnt lie flush against the wooden surface, a slight bump where the scar was. An ever constant physical reminder of the toll the war had took on you and others. On Danny, Freddie, Thomas. Every poor soul who managed to make it home. The sound of the picks grew louder in your ears, the anxiety that once bubbled in your stomach now risen to your throat. A slight shine of sweat on your forehead and dampening the night shirt you were wearing. Blankets tangled around your feet like the dirt that had once clung unreleantlessly to your boots. You'd woken up in a fright just as Germans broke through, shooting awake with air being sucked from your lungs. Desperately heaving for Birmingham smoke as you frantically untangled your feet from the blankets. Yes, you knew nightmares all too well.

You tried everything to go back to sleep. Heroin, whiskey, even tried those stupid fucking breathing excersises Polly had told you about. But nothing helped. Wide awake, staring across the room to the wall facing you. Picks still hitting against it. They gave you the worst job..

Eventually, when it became clear you weren't going to get to sleep tonight, you rose from the bed. In a daze of sleep deprevation and darkness, you shuffled your hands along the floor picking up whatever clothing you could find and got yourself dressed. You didnt even bother to check if you looked presentable as you shuffled out the door, pulling the coat tight around your thinning frame to try and peotect you from the downpour, peak of your cap pulled more towards your eyebrows.

You walked aimlessly for about an hour before finding yourself outside the Garrison. Light still on hinting that someone was at least inside. You tried the door, finding it locked so resulted in knocking on the wood harsh enough for anyone inside to hear, wherever they may be.

You weren't left waiting for long, latches unlocking and door opening after about thirty seconds. Thomas Shelby stood in the doorway with that never changing unbothered expression on his face. Wordlessly, you let yourself in, shoving the coat off your shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Sitting at the bar you took your cap off, setting it on the counter with a slight rattle from razor blades. Despite your efforts, you were well and truly soaked. You didnt look up when Thomas made his way behind the counter, pouring you a glass. Nor when he left. Only coming back to the present when you felt the scratchiness of a blanket wrap around wet shoulders. The same fabric they'd used in the war for your uniform. Cheap and easy to mass produce. You took the glass, pulling it closer to yourself and stared into the dark golden concoction. Letting the other grab your coat from the floor and drape it over the counter. You only gave him a glance when he moved to sit down on your left. "You look like shit." He mumbled, lighting a cigarette and slipped it inbetween your fingers.

Thomas had always held a soft spot for you. He'd be rather caught dead then show this side to anyone. But for you? He made an exception. He saw a different side of you during the war. A terrified side, a side that shook at any slight sound, a side that jumped you to attention at any explosion, a side that would cling to him in tunnels like a lost child, a side that would fade from the present during lunch breaks often leaving Thomas to have to remind you, coach you to eat. On your worst days even feed you. That childhood innocence had vanished within the first week of being on the front lines. Replaced with complete and utter fear. You'd hardened your emotions by the time you'd returned home, however. Only showing that fear after nightmares. But you'd still occasionally dissociate when everything was still. "Nightmare?"

You nodded ever so slightly to his question, downing the glass and took a drag from the cigarette. "As usual." You murmered. Feeling the others eyes on you. Clothes soaked through it was easy to see just how thin you'd gotten. "You?" "Haven't tried to sleep." He chuckled softly, reaching for the bottle and pouring you another drink. "You know when you've had an awful day and it will for sure come knocking?" He turned to see you nodding, sighing softly. "Of course you do.." There was silence for about five minutes. A comfortable silence, one that wasn't forced. A silence that calmed your heart and eased away anxieties. A silence that highlighted just how tired and hungry you were. Exhaustion seeping into ivery bone and muscle, weighing you down. As if he could read your mind, Thomas eventually spoke up. "When was the last you ate?" He asked. Able to see your spine protruding from your back, shoulderblades prominant.

When was the last you ate? Did you even know? "Probably yesterday, or the day before." You didnt ever stay still long enough to eat. Or have a bath. Sure, that last part was disgusting. But if you stood still, you'd think and if you'd think, you'd think about the war. And most soldiers were looking to avoid that. You heard another sigh from Thomas, the other standing with a screetch of his chair on the wooden floor. "Finish that drink and then come with me."

Wordlessly, you done as you were told. Downing the rest of the drink, you stood from your stool and with Thomas' help, slipped on the soaked coat. You put on your cap, threw the ciggarette in the glass and followed the man outside. You let him lock up, then began to trail behind him. Ten minutes leter and the man was letting you into his home, hanging up his jacket and helping you take off your own and your cap. He set them infront of the fire, left to head to his room and fished out some dry clothes. He came back to you standing in the middle of the living room like a lost puppy. "Here.. Get changed into these." He spoke, holding the clothing out to you. With shaky and cold hands, you took the clothing. Softer than your own, much softer. But you didn't move to change. Or move to the bathroom to change in private. Stood there, still in the middle of the room, now looking to the clothes in your hands. "Do you need a hand?" You heard, glancing to Thomas briefly before back to the clothes. You didnt respond for a moment, brain computing the question before there was a very slight and clearly embarressed nod.

The clothes were carefully taken from you after that. Set on teh arm of the sofa before Thomas came back into view. He stood infront of you, slowly working on undoing the buttons to your shirt. He then slipped it off your shoulders and set it on the coffee table.

Next he directed you to the sofa, slipping off your shoes to find no socks. You really did just grab whatever you could find, huh? He stood, coming back five minutes later with a towel. He dried your hair first. Keeping it as gentle as possible while also making sure he was drying it at least a little. Once he was satisfied, he smoothed down your hair, dried off your feet and continued to help you undress.

He got your trousers off, let you change into some clean briefs, then helped you to lie down on the sofa infront of the fire. Grabbing another blanket, nicer one then at the Garrison, from the back of the sofa and draped it over you. As he turned away, he felt a slight tug on his shirt, looking down to your hand that was grasping the fabric.. Thumb and pointer. He sighed softly, carefully taking your hand and tucked it back into the blanket. "I'll be back. Just let me get a fire going and get you some food." He mumbled.

He didnt wait for a response. Getting the fire going, set up a drying rack in front of it and draped your clothes over the rack. He then dissapeared into a room to the left of the living room, coming back five minutes later with three slices of toast and some tea. "Here.. Come sit up.." His voice was softer now, setting the plate and cup on the table as he helped you to sit. He moved to prop your back up with pillows when you let out a whine. "What is it? Something hurt?" He asked, attention turned back to your face, studding it while a steady hand rested on your shoulder.

"No.." you had intended to leave it at that, but the look Thomas held best described as 'well what is it?' had you continuing. "You remember when we were kids? We'd have sleepovers and I had to sleep in your bed because there wasnt enough room on the floor?" That earned a chuckle from Thomas, nodding with a "Say no more.."

He grabbed one of the legs coffee table, dragging it closer before slipping behind you. Becoming the pillows he'd intended to prop you up with. He reached for the plate, setting it on your lap and began to tear thet oast up into bitesized pieces. He carefully fed you each bite, brushing awat the occasional crumb from the side of your mouth and alternated with tea when it cooled down enough. Fifteen minutes later and the plate was empty. Setting it down in the coffee table again and replaced the plate with the now half empty cup of tea. He helped you to finish it off, set that back where it once was and allowed you to get comfy.

It didnt take long for a rough hand to begin carding through your hair, untangling any knotts caused from the towel dry. "Do you want to talk about it? That nightmare?" He asked, looking down to the top of your head incase the response wasnt verbal.

"It's nothing that we haven't already talked about.." You mumbled, words slurred as sleep began to creep in. A full stomach of toast and warm tea wasnt helping. Neither did the humming that started after about two minutes.

It didnt take long to fall asleep after that, shovels and picks silenced and replaced with a heartbeat and the hum of familliar songs. Maybe you should go for a whiskey more often.

#thomas Shelby x male reader #thomas shelby x m!reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder one-shot #thomas shelby #peaky blinders

67 notes · View notes

lupineaerosol · 2 years ago

Text

traveler pt. 3 | thomas shelby x f!reader

not my gifs! dm for credit

parts one and two

pairing : thomas shelby x time traveled!reader

word count : 2431 (shorter chap but i love it sm)

summary : it's been a few days of a quickly forming schedule, and while running errands find yourself attempting to calm Danny Whizz-bang down from a panicked state. later on in the day you return to the Garrison to find a second woman attending the bar, and she was singing. a moment with thomas and a flashback!

warnings : alcohol mentioned, PTSD and panic attack, knives, blood, cigarettes(?), jumpscare(??), mention of guns

notes : this chapter came together super fast and im honestly really proud!! was a total headache trying to get the timeline all correct n shit but this came out perfect n i think yall are going to loveee it

It had been a few days of work, breaks, a quick shopping trip when you could spare the time with the money you earned from individuals at the bar, and sleep. Last night’s sleep had been filled with half remembered dreams, and the morning as foggy as your icy dawn in Inverness. You swung your feet out of bed to softly touch the floor, and you start your day. Warming water downstairs in the bar for a quick wash back up in your apartment. Brushing your hair with your fingers, and marking down a growing list of items you would need to purchase, more major things crossed out at the top. Blouses, skirts, undergarments, socks, bedsheets, lamps etc.

With the leftover clean water you were able to wash your dirty shirts and hang them to dry near the window. You tugged your sneakers onto your feet and laid your skirt over them neatly when you stood from your bed. A yellowed and previously white shirt a tad too small tucked into the green skirt, and a brown shaul you found, forgotten in the dresser of your bedroom.

Venturing out with your list in hand, you first stopped at an Italian cafe purchasing a small pastry and a tea you enjoyed sitting at a table outside. You took a long sip followed by a sigh, and a familiar face came into view: Danny Whizz-bang, and he looked distraught.

He was muttering to himself, gripping his hat from off his head and holding it to his chest as he sunk into a seat near you. A chair fell loudly next to him after he had bumped it with his hip. Rocking back and forth, nearly shivering. You had to help in some way, with the distant booms of the factories and clattering noise of the street he was only getting more wound up.

“Excuse me,” You looked over at him with gentle eyes. “Do you have the time?” A gentle distraction, one simple task to take his mind off of whatever was happening behind his eyes.

Danny slightly jumped in his seat at the sound of your voice, but he began to pat his chest for a watch. His fingers fumbled and the chain to the watch shook subtly. “It’s a quarter past eight, ma’am.” His voice trembled, but he looked slightly less wild.

“Thank you,” You paused, looking back down to your pastry briefly. “Would you like to share this? I don’t think I’ll be able to finish it.” You tried to incorporate a small smile into your words, it didn’t quite have the comfort you intended.

“That's quite alright ma’am, lovely wife at home makes all the meals I need.” His eyes darted around the street, still disturbed. A loud boom and he jumped, only to then put his face down and yell loudly at his feet. An Italian gentleman in an apron stepped out of the cafe, talking and gesturing angrily in half broken English about how Danny was scaring you. Danny muttered into his hat and stood suddenly, the stress of the situation rising once again.

“Sir, sir I am fine, please don’t worry.” You tried interjecting, but the man raised his voice and began to yell for Danny to leave, finally pulling a knife from his pocket and threatening him. Danny’s eyes glazed over with rage and fear, lunging at the smaller man and redirecting the knife into the cafe owner. You stumbled back, seeing red pour from the Italian’s stomach. Danny was pulled away from the other man, remorse and regret smearing his face like a painting. Tears welled up in both of your eyes, and you didn’t attempt to get near him again. People chattered busily from around the street, and after a pause, Danny was off and running down the street.

You returned home after your errands helped calm you down, a basket full of new clothes that finally fit you hanging on your arm as you push through the doors of the Garrison to see Harry behind the bar and a blonde woman standing on a chair singing. The Garrison was silent under the melancholic song floating from her mouth. Harry never mentioned a new hire, and there was no way this could be his wife, she stayed away from the tavern like it was cursed. The blonde was pretty, and Irish from the sound of her singing. You claimed a spot at a golden support beam near the doors, not wanting to take attention away from the community enjoying music.

The men had started to sing along, a lovely chorus rumbling through the building. It warmed the space, and you could almost hear the bricks echoing in harmony. The doors swung open and closed, and Mr. Shelby appeared to your right, his group following closely behind him. Men shuffled away and stopped singing along as the intimidating group claimed their spot to listen to the woman sing, an air of disapproval emanating from Thomas.

Thomas was so near to you the heat radiating off his jacket made its way to your skin through your shirt and it felt like he diffused pure electricity. Had your hand been at your side, his knuckles would have bumped yours. You held your breath without consideration as to why. You didn’t even notice he had taken your breath away just by standing next to you.

The blonde finished her song, and Harry approached Thomas with a smile. “We haven’t had singing in here since the war.” A long stare, cold and captivating from Thomas.

“Why do you think that is, Harry?” Thomas’ voice was crystal clear, and as he stepped away from you and into the corner room. You were immediately aware of the cold that replaced Thomas. An as he went to close the double doors, his eyes glanced back to catch yours, and for a split second you were captivated entirely by just how entrancing and menacing the man could be.

Earlier in the day

Thomas walked into the Shelby house with a bottle, his hat tossed carelessly to the side on a table. “Let me see him.” A short glance at Arthur’s face and it was obvious he was hurting. Blood spackled across his face and the first few buttons of his shirt. “Well here, have this.” Thomas handed his older brother the bottle and he took a drink.

“Give me that.” Thomas took back the bottle and doused a bit of cloth in the brown liquid, taking Arthur’s chin and pressing the alcohol into a gash in his cheek. Arthur hissed, “You’re all right.” Thomas tried comforting him, and Arthur’s right hand came to grip the younger man’s forearm.

“He said Mr. Churchill sent him to Birmingham.” A long pause between the group. “National interest he said. Something about a robbery.” Arthur’s voice had a hint of rage. Thomas stepped back, lit cigarette hanging from his lips lazily.

“He says he wants us to help him.” Arthur continued.

“”We don’t help coppers.” John piped up from his place in the doorway.

“He knew all about our war records. He said we’re patriots, like him. Wants us to be his eyes and ears.” A cold emotion gripped the room, the feeling of breaking a lamp as a child and needing to hide any other evidence of misbehavior.

“And I’ve heard rumors he’s already keeping ears on us with the new women at the Garrison.” Arthur’s voice was flat, and Thomas’ mind went to the two women he had recently met. The American (Y/H/C) with the glass of water for Danny and the Irish blonde. “People say that she was on the train with him, saw the files he was carrying.” Suspicion heightened the tension in the room.

“Fucking copper couldn’t put anyone in the Garrison to listen in on us, Harry keeps his staff straight.” John defended the familiar old establishment.

“Regardless, I told the copper we’d have a family meeting and take a vote.” Arthur guided the conversation back to the Inspector, and it almost seemed like he was suggesting they become spies for the police. Silence gripped at the throats of the family, and Thomas hesitated with an answer.

“Why not? Hmm?” Arthur turned on the offensive. “We have no truck with the Fenians or communists.” Thomas simply stared at the table.

“What’s wrong with you?” Arthur turned to face Pol. “What the fuck is wrong with him lately?”

“If I knew, I’d buy the cure from Compton’s chemists.” Aunt Pol responded, lighting a cigarette.

After the crowd had settled back into their seats in the Garrison, you ventured up to your apartment and unlocked the door, placing your things inside and turning to leave again to start helping downstairs. As you again pulled the key from the door a shadow appeared from behind you.

“Why did you visit the police station?” An unfamiliar voice rang through the empty hall, chatter from the bar filling the silence. You turned around slowly, adrenaline at the surface of your skin. You were unfamiliar with the man’s name, but you recognized his face. He was in the group of men Harry had talked to about you a few nights ago. “Now is not the time to lie, madam, and I would appreciate it if we could speak quickly, I have a beer downstairs waiting for me.”

Your stomach sunk, knowing that there was no lying your way out of the situation. “I had been traveling from Inverness to London when I met a man on the train. I didn’t know he was a policeman when I explained to him I had lost my passport, and he offered to help get me a visa. I only visited him to explain I didn’t need it anymore.” Your hands twisted the fabric of your shirt anxiously while you spoke quickly.

“Did you see what files he was carrying?” His gruff voice commanded your attention.

“Uhm..” You paused, trying desperately to recall what the hideous green folders had typed on the front of them. “Uhh, Oh! Something about a munitions robbery, and the suspects that they have.”

“Did you see any of the names?” He pressured again, leaning slightly closer.

“No, none at all.” You had backed up flush against your door, the wood creaking quietly.

The man leaned back and nodded, thin dirty-blonde hair poking out like straw from under his hat. Your words seemed to appease him to whatever capacity. He straightened his cap and muttered a quiet ‘thank you for your time’, before turning to leave.

“How did you know I visited the police station?” You asked, still shaken from the question.

“There are eyes in this town madam, you’d be wise to make your intentions clear to them.” Was all the answer you got from over his shoulder.

Boxes and crates with their lids slammed down on top of and hammered into place. Two men loading a riverboat in the dead of night, a third walking from the road with a cigarette floating lazily from his hand to his mouth.

“Uncle Charlie, a word.” His flat cap reflected the quarter moon on a razor’s edge.

“They are aboard. There’s no moon.” Charlie Strong stepped down the wooden gangway. “We can take them out to the turning point beyond Gas Street and leave them on the bank. They’ll be found by railway men first thing.”

The nephew put his cigarette to his mouth and took a long drag, smoke trailing from his nose and mouth as the dragon exhaled.

The pause was too long for Charlie Strong’s liking. “Is that an agreement?”

The young man’s face scrunched for a second and then fell. “I changed my mind.”

“You what?”

“I have an alternative strategy.” The plot unraveled in his mind, yet another calculated step navigated with ease. Everything came easy to the Shelby boys when they put their minds to it, and that was why Thomas was in charge. “Tell Curly to take her out to the old tobacco wharf. There’s a lockup mooring we used to keep cigarettes. He knows it. When the boat leaves your yard, it’s no longer your concern.” He shared his cigarette with his uncle.

He took a fast drag. “Have you lost your fucking mind? Have you not seen the streets? They’ve sent a fucking army to find these things.”

“That’s right. They’ve shown their hand.” Thomas said casually.

Charlie scoffed. “Their hand?”

“If they want them back this bad, they’ll have to pay. That’s the way of the world.” Thomas’ eyes moved to his uncle’s. “Fortune drops something valuable into your lap, you don’t just dump it on the bank of the Cut.” He pointed his chin to the river with a lift of his head.

“You’re blood Tommy, I’ve always looked out for you like a dad.” Charlie paused. “You’re going to bring holy hell down on your head. This copper takes no prisoners.”

The young man nearly scoffed out loud. “I’m told he didn’t serve.” His eyebrows raised for a split second. “Reserved occupation.”

“Is it another war you’re looking for, Tommy?”

His voice turned stern. “What did you find out from (Y/N)?”

“She’s not working with the copper, but she wasn’t telling the entire truth.” Charlie spoke of the young woman Thomas requested he talk to. “But whatever you heard was correct, she was at the police station a few days back. She'd traveled down from Inverness, met the copper on the train. All she saw was a munitions robbery suspect list.” He took another short hit from the tobacco.

“Harry said that she was honest, she talked about how she couldn’t afford the trip to London. He said he hired her because he needed to. He couldn’t turn her away. But most importantly, he trusts her.” Charlie continued.

“You have to bring her into the business. If word gets out she knows about the guns, that copper will torture her. She’s an American, she’ll stay loyal to whoever gets to her heartstrings first, Tommy.” Charlie’s voice held genuine concern for your wellbeing. It seemed the only men you met in Small Heath wanted to protect you. “Don’t let an innocent person be hurt in the crossfire, Thomas.”

“I’ll talk to her, get the full story.” Thomas sighed, frustrated, he had far better things to do than sniff out a possible rat at the Garrison. He turned to fully face his uncle emphatically. “The tobacco wharf.” He tucked a set of keys into the older gentleman’s pocket. “By order of the Peaky Blinders.”

And walked off into the night.

a.n. : TEEHEE i love this chapter sorry if its confusing as all hell at time but i tried me best,,,, im also still completely unaware as to how to make a taglist but im gonna figure it out (maybe) !!!

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #Thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #arthur shelby #john shelby #peaky fookin blinders #polly gray

140 notes · View notes

trash-monkey · 4 months ago

Text

The Gun, The Smoke, The Mute

Chapter 2

Snip.Snip.Sinp

Snip

Clunk

Scissors are thrown into the bathroom sink that's already filled with long strands of hair that the scissors have clipped off before a roll of bandages is grabbed off the toilet where it was laid with some men clothes and a switch blade, with a deep sigh I'm shaky hands are forced to be steady before beginning to warp the long bandage around my chest tightly and although not liking the tight feeling I know I'll get use to it. Moving on to the second task but more dangerous I take the switch blade and flick it open before I can second guess or doubt myself I cut a thin line across my throat, I gasped immediately with instinct and fear a hand takes a hold of my throat but to my relief no shower of blood pours out. Removing my hand to see bearly broken skin and blood from the switch blade.

'A little deeper'

I take a moment for my hands to settle again knowing one wrong move I'll be dead on the floor bleeding out, with a breath I make a cut again but a deeper making some bleed to bead out of the line made which I quickly bandage it with gauze and another roll of bandages from inside the bathroom mirror. Looking in the mirror I can already see myself disappearing although slowly and I know in the end I'll probably won't be able to recognized myself anymore but anything to survive, I guess. Although I'm not street ready in appearance yet but I need to get use to the clothing and layers of this era quickly so I put on a white button up shirt with 2-3 inch cuffs, grey trousers that are high waisted and held up by spenders, a black vest with a over coat but don't need it on at the moment, I slip on a rubber collar I believe to be a king style, and after putting on some long socks I put on what to believe to be Storm calls 'Victon' shoes.

"Wow" I'm completely surprised when seeing myself in the mirror again now completely disguised but many of my feminine features are still seeable making me look like a young boy just bearly hitting his teens, I'll be needing a exercise routine to build up muscle hopefully to dull my feminine features to match my actual age. Stepping out of the lower level bathroom I stroll into the parlor and take a seat at the desk where I begin to figure out my exercise plan which I decided to include hand to hand combat knowing I'll definitely need it but experience is different then knowledge, before getting involved with Peaky Blinders as I know something will clash us together if I want it to or not.

'The god damn slang too'

I sighed as my shoulders deflat when I just remembered about the slang difference as well but I guess I can say I've been away to America for too long and have forgotten a lot of it, also I need to figure out where I am in the timeline.

'If I'm before the timeline and disguised well I might beat Grace to the bar job, it'll get me close to the Peaky Blinders yet at the edge out of their reach.'

Even though it's very risky to do after figuring out my exercise plan I begin to write down what I remember on paper writing it upside down and backwards for a little more protection, on another paper I write down possibles I can do.

1.) Enter underground fighting ring for experience but very likely to be found out and Peaky Blinders doesn't attention to it until second season.

2.) Could kill Billy Kimberly before he shots Danny dead, he'll be a good assist to Thomas later on, to do that I'll need rifle to be hidden from everyone which I probably can buy one somewhere without police knowing but it'll be expensive for the description of it.

3.) Can leave a nice tip off to Thomas where Grace meets Campbell? But she'll need to work at the Garrison

4.) If I take the job at Garrison how will Grace come in? Will she still come in and work beside me in the pub or will she find another way to spy on Thomas? Will Charlie exist?

5.) Need money but where to work? Garrison, the factory, ect.

6.) work on being quiet in all aspects as it'll help to be in the shadows of the Peaky Blinders as there won't be any attention on me.

7.) maybe Save Thomas one ass beating so he can't be under Campbell's or any ones thumb.

8.).....

'In the end Thomas was alone.....'

I think back on how the show ended and wonder if I'm able to change it without losing myself in the process or will it turn out to be the same, I glanced at the window instinctively but do a double take when seeing how dark it is so I got up and take a look at the wall clock in the kitchen to see if eight sixteen. After letting the ink dry for a moment I fold the paper up and hide them behind the painting that I like, it's a large grassy field with a mountain in the background as a lady having a picnic on a white sheet. I returned to the bottom level bathroom and carefully removed the bandage from around my neck to see it barely started scabbing up, I take the switch blade from my pocket I have slipped in earlier today and flick it open once again.

After remaking the cut and re-bandaging it I step into what I guessed earlier is Vesper's room, removing my best and slip the spenders off with the shoes I lay down on the bed.

_______________________________________________

#fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders au #peaky blinders masterlist #peaky fucking blinders #au #female y/n #disguised as man #female y/n disguised as male y/n

7 notes · View notes

mwexodusofficial · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter XXVI: Chaos

(Music: "Headlock", by Imogen Heap)

---------------------------------------------------

The journey to Inferis Station was almost complete. The Argonaut II and its fleets were at the final stop before they arrived- and it would be in the nick of time as well, as the Remnant heading for Inferis was nearly there. Hawkes was in a short pre-check meeting with Elise, Sammy, Danny, Lonnes (his chief Cartographer, rarely seen outside his office), Faulkner, Annie, and Garrison Captain Chevalier. The round table meeting was a final briefing on everyone's roles once they went to battle against the Remnant.

Lilia, due to the immense stress she suffered and being reunited with her family, was permitted to sit out this mission and stay in the Panic Room with the other families. Hawkes looked around the table of long-familiar faces, resting on Faulkner in irritation as he noticed the old man was still reveling in his revitalized body; flexing his musculature to enjoy the sight of it.

"Hey, Narcissus. Pay attention, you have a pretty integral damn role, here."

"Of course, of course, Admiral. But surely you'll let me get in just one more flex."

Hawkes groaned, still immensely irritated at Faulkner for having helped Jimmy escape his grasp. Still, at the end of the day, he was thankful that his friend was still alive- though when Hawkes found Jimmy again, Faulkner would be shot in the face and thrown into space if he tried to pull the same shit twice.

"Let's rehash the basic summary. Sammy, Danny, you two will be operating the Argonaut while firing on the horde. I'll be boarding with the EVA team and using the floppy disk with override codes to activate the P-1 War Machine once we reach it. Elise will be using her French drones-"

"When did my drones become French, Captain?"

"-to distract and taunt the Gaiters around the station instead of through it. We'll be evacuating the personnel on-station with small transport vessels, because as you know, if we try to dock the Argonaut and evacuate them we'll just end up drawing all the Gaiters straight into the evacuees. Lonnes will be coordinating the transport vessels, Faulkner and Annie will be on triage standby while Captain Chevalier's officers fortify themselves across the ship. We all clear here?"

"Captain," Elise asked. "Are you sure you have to board? The Magna Caedes is already boarding separately, that alone seems enough to-"

"I do have to, Elise. I'll be frank, I don't trust anyone but myself to get that War Machine started up. It's our only chance of decisively beating the Remnant hordes without risking our annihilation or the wholesale destruction of the station. If I send someone else, no matter how capable, and they fail? We're completely fucked. I can't have that playing on my conscience. So yes, I'm heading on."

"In your Ryn-Hague Chassis, I assume?" Sammy muttered- which prompted Hawkes to turn and stare questioningly at Sammy.

"No, Sammy, I was planning to run in buck-naked and kill the Gaiters with my swinging ballsack."

"Alright, noted."

"Is it true they really stripped their evacuation ships for extra scrap metal?" Lonne muttered. "And that's why we have to send in our own rescue vessels?"

"Yes. And I will be kicking the whole ass of the people who did that shit once all this comes to an end."

"Captain Hawkes." Chevalier suddenly chimed in assertedly; and Hawkes turned his gaze to meet hers. Eyes full of die-hard loyalty, yet creeping skepticism at his intentions. "I understand-"

Chevalier suddenly just stopped speaking, instead electing to simply stare at the Captain; which immediately threw him off his kilter in confusion.

"Wh.... uh, okay? Alright... just gonna... brush past whatever the fuck that was..."

Hawkes looked around the table once more.

"Are we clear now on the brief, everyone?"

Everyone nodded in unison. Hawkes returned the nod, standing up from his chair.

"Meeting adjourned, it's go-time."

---------------------------------------------------

(Music: "Knee Deep", by Jason Graves)

---------------------------------------------------

The Argonaut II and its fleet entered Inferis Station space. In the far, far distance opposite where the Argonaut was located, the Remnant horde and its dozens of city-sized space sacs (known as Predator Moons) were slowly wandering toward Inferis like malevolent, fleshy, mammothian marbles. Remnant hordes were break-offs from the Terror that had pollinated throughout the galaxy after its defeat at the hands of the Omerta Squadron. Nobody knew how many of these Remnants were out there, pollinating- procreating- multiplying.

"Such crude fucking creatures..." Hawkes muttered, staring with disgust out the bridge window. All Canari-born citizens were taught deeply on knowledge about the Gaiters and the Terror's Remnants- the entire planet of Canaris, after all, had initially been turned into a Fortress World when it seemed the Terror was going to bring an end to humanity violently.

Haxel and Sal, who had been permitted onto the bridge to gauge the situation for the scenario they had to flee, were less aware of the intricacies of Remnants and Gaiters. Sal craned his head towards Hawkes in curiosity as the crude comment was muttered about Gaiters.

"I mean, crude sure, but there's a number of other words that come to mind when I see that horrible sight and hear about those demons."

Hawkes giggled, a reaction which unsettled both Haxel and Sal- it was not often they heard people, even battle-hardened veterans, laughing so casually at the atrociously terrifying sight before them.

"Did you know? When Gaiters are released from those bulbous sacs through space to land on planets or stations, they excrete hydrogen and ignite the gas with an internal ignition gland for short, intense bursts of speed across small oceans of space. They literally shit to fly. It's. Fucking. Gross."

Sal keeled over, laughing until his face turned red- while Haxel looked more disgusted and horrified at the same time.

"The fuck?!" Haxel muttered with a shaky voice. Hawkes grinned bitterly; only now noticing that he could see a visible trauma in Haxel and Sal's eyes, the same as the Tulpar crew. Hawkes had a small, terrible epiphany- why was he continually being forced to send these souls into further hell, when they were already trying to cope with their past ordeals? Why was he putting them through what had been done to him? Why did this cycle of abuse-

SHUT THE FUCK UP. THERE IS A MISSION TO EXECUTE.

"So yeah, crude fucking creatures." Hawkes growled, the anger more directed at himself than anyone else; yet being noticed with slight fear by the two Numia crewmates to his side.

"This universe..." Haxel muttered, staring back towards the Remnant hordes across the vast distance. "It's... mankind has been so ignorant to so many things... our conception of God, our understanding of the universe... I ask myself... why did God create those things? Were they created by Him, or is evolution truly the defining marker for the free will He is granting to all sentient beings?"

Hawkes stared with dead eyes at Haxel; no longer feeling bad for shoving this dope into the fray. "Great question- can you save that for after we win? I'd prefer not to have the last thing I talk about be a comparison between humans and those antique farting lizards. I'm heading down, you should head to your stations, as well."

Haxel and Sal nodded with nerves on edge, leaving the Bridge with Hawkes; who was practically rushing to his quarters to put on his armor set before stomping toward the Hangar Bay; where transport vessels were preparing to evacuate the residents of Inferis Station, and gunships were loading their ammunition for a massive fight against their antediluvian mortal enemy. Hawkes spotted his EVA crew, then noticed the Magna Caedes was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Theseus?" Hawkes asked Wally, his EVA leader. "Did he already head over to board?"

Wally nodded, reaffirming his gear as he responded. "He said he had a really bad feeling and decided to make a quicker exit."

Hawkes sighed; this sounded in-line with the characteristically impatient Magna Caedes, who were practically their own free agents when issued on missions alone and without being attached to a leadership hierarchy. He felt a bit bad for the people onboard the station who'd be seeing that hulk walking around for the first time in their lives without warning.

"Well, he might have the right idea," Hawkes stated through his helmet. "Keep your cutters ready, it's likely we'll be facing some structural problems once those Gaiters arrive. Let's get moving!"

Hawkes and the EVA team boarded the transport vessel, its doors closing with a hiss as it levitated into the air and shot out of the Hangar Bay, rocketing toward Inferis Station with urgency. Sammy and Danny, meanwhile, were watching the lone vessel heading for the station's docking entries- having already witnessed Theseus' ride carry him toward the station's right side.

"I'm starting to think the Admiral has a death wish," Sammy muttered. Danny hardly responded, extremely nervous over this upcoming battle; the very few times he'd faced Remnants onboard this vessel, he never wished for such encounters again. Facing hundred-million-year-old creatures that varied in size from cars to tanks, with different adaptations and semi-sentient leaders directing them- again, there was only so much any human could realistically bear in terms of horror. And these creatures checked every box for him.

"I'd agree," Danny mumbled. "He's braver than me, at least."

Sammy chuckled nervously. "Do you think this Remnant will have bio-artillery? I read about one in the history books that did."

"Is that really something you want to discuss?"

"...Yeah. Kind of."

The two of them fell silent and continued staring out the window, nervous as their eyes strained to focus on the Remnant thousands of miles away.

...

-------------------------------------------------------

(Music: "The Hive Mind", by Trevor Gureckis)

-------------------------------------------------------

FWWWWWWWW-BWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"HOLY SHIIIT!"

Sammy and Danny stumbled and crumpled back in visceral horror as they blinked their eyes and the Remnant hordes had immediately short-warped the vast distance, appearing only a few hundred miles before Inferis Station; the Predator Moons overshadowing and dwarfing the research station by at least twice its immense architecture.

They were frozen, for several seconds, along with the rest of the bridge officers paling in horror; they had never seen this happen before- FTL short-warping at this distance was unheard of, and yet their mortal enemy had just pulled it off as if it was natural. It shouldn't have even been theoretically possible because of the temporal contortion and gravitational distortions that would likely occur in such a small area of space... how had they done it?!

"P-P-!" Danny stumbled and stuttered; his mind frozen in dread and horror for even more precious seconds, before he finally surfaced words to his quivering mouth. "P-PAGE HAWKES, ALL CANNONS BROADSIDE FIRE NOOOOW!!!!"

As he and Sammy stood up in horrible fear from the event, they could see the sacs begin to open up their thousands of highway-sized fleshy slits; allowing Gaiters to pour out and accelerate in short bursts through the outstretched cosmic proving grounds, several thousands of them unavoidably slamming into the station in their pathway and burrowing through to unknowable havoc, the rest of their millions-strong-mass rocketing towards the Argonaut II and its fleet with terrible fervor. And with a singular, furtive command from the second-most influential individual in this entire armada- the cannons opened fire.

The void erupted.

KRA-A-A-ACK! KRA-A-A-A-ACK! THWIP! THWIP! KRA-A-A-ACK! V-WOOOOOOOM! VRMMMMMM-BWOM-PWSH!! BOOOOOOM-BOOM-BOOM! B-WOOOOOOOOOOM! D-HKHKHKHKHKHKHKHK! BWOOOOOOOOOOOM! BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! KRACK-AKAKAKAKAKAK! DW-WOOOOOOOOSH! VRMMMMMM-BWOM-PWSH!! BZZZZZ-BWOMMM!!! D-ACKAKAKAKAKAK! BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! SZW-VSHHHHHHHHHH!!! BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! KRA-A-A-A-ACK! THWIP! THWIP! KRA-A-A-ACK! V-WOOOOOOOM! VRMMMMMM-BWOM-PWSH!! BOOOOOOM-BOOM-BOOM! B-WOOOOOOOOOOM! D-HKHKHKHKHKHKHKHK! BWOOOOOOOOOOOM! BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! KRACK-AKAKAKAKAKAK! DW-WOOOOOOOOSH! VRMMMMMM-BWOM-PWSH!! BZZZZZ-BWOMMM!!! D-ACKAKAKAKAKAK! BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! SZW-VSHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Three hundred battle cruisers—each a hamlet of steel, rage and fire—turned their decades-bred wrath upon the abyss. Gun decks ignited in grotesque yet brutal sequence, a muted symphony of annihilation, millions of armaments cycling, locking, firing, and rapidly transforming the blackness of space into a kaleidoscope of mind-rending devastation.

**Missiles, gauss rounds, plasma lances, rail slugs, graviton torpedoes—**every conceivable super-weapon in human history, every machined nightmare war had ever wrathfully birthed, was being unleashed in a single, blinding, blackening, sun-blotting mass-coordinated volley of pure and unfettered hellfire.

The darkness bloomed with a thousand newborn stars.

And still, the Gaiters came.

The horde stretched beyond eyesight as they came in range, an endless tide spilling from the Predator Moons and their immense hovels, grotesque forms slithering and twitching in the void. To the mere bystander, they did not fly—they crawled through space, some massive, armored flesh-things moving like celestial horrors beyond imagination; others small, squirming and devilishly-fast hissing nightmares that twisted through the chaos like swarming insects.

They felt no fear. They held no hesitation. It was nothing but pure instinct which drove them.

THWIP! KRA-A-A-A-ACK! THWIP! THWIP! KRA-A-A-ACK! V-WOOOOOOOM! VRMMMMMM-BWOM-PWSH!! BOOOOOOM-BOOM-BOOM! B-WOOOOOOOOOOM! D-HKHKHKHKHKHKHKHK! BWOOOOOOOOOOOM! BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! KRACK-AKAKAKAKAKAK! DW-WOOOOOOOOSH! VRMMMMMM-BWOM-PWSH!! BZZZZZ-BWOMMM!!! D-ACKAKAKAKAKAK! BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! SZW-VSHHHHHHHHHH!!! BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! KRA-A-A-A-ACK! THWIP! THWIP! KRA-A-A-ACK! V-WOOOOOOOM! VRMMMMMM-BWOM-PWSH!! BOOOOOOM-BOOM-BOOM! B-WOOOOOOOOOOM! D-HKHKHKHKHKHKHKHK! BWOOOOOOOOOOOM! BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! KRACK-AKAKAKAKAKAK! DW-WOOOOOOOOSH! VRMMMMMM-BWOM-PWSH!! BZZZZZ-BWOMMM!!! D-ACKAKAKAKAKAK! BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! SZW-VSHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Their flesh boiled, ruptured, vaporized under the onslaught, entire swathes of the swarm reduced to molten ruin—but the horde did not thin.

For every Gaiter torn asunder, a hundred more surged forward.

The first kinetic impact alarms blared across the fleet. They were closing within boarding range.

Canaris had thrown its greatest weight, its technology, its sheer military excess at them. And it was not enough. It had vastly under-anticipated the rapid evolution of these individual Remnants. And it was going to cost them dearly.

Because this was not a battle.

This was a collision of whole species.

A war which never found end, a reckoning measured in billions of body counts and cosmic gravesites.

And this night, as these three hundred battle cruisers filled the void with their fomented, generational hatred—

The Terror watched.

The horde did not stop.

Hawkes, standing in the transport vessel that carried him and his team to the station, was bearing horrible witness to the apocalyptic calamities unfolding before his very eyes, along with the rest of his team; suddenly heard his receiver buzzing and slamming it on with utter desperation.

"SAMMY, WHAT THE F-"

"HAAAAWKKESS!! THEY'VE FUCKING SHORT-WARPED!"

Hawkes felt his face pale- WHAT THE FUCK?! This went from dangerous to "Fucked Up Beyond All Repair" in an instant. Panicked and horrified to waste any further time, he responded aptly with a strained and urgent intonation.

"START DIRECTING THE FLEET TO SPREAD OUT AND ENCIRCLE THE REMNANT!"

"YES SIR! AAAAAAAAAAA-"

Hawkes felt beads of sweat dripping down his face as everyone in the transport vessel overheard his receiver, and simultaneously witnessed the events unfolding through the glass port-windows. In little time, they immediately shat their pants in pure terror, muttering or silently sobbing to themselves, praying or panicking in expectation of sudden death; only the enemy of mankind could produce this form of horror in those who'd remained undaunted by man-made atrocities for years upon years of their tenure to the Argonaut.

"THEY WHAT?!" Wally shouted, losing his composure over the realization that-

ZZZIIPPPP!!!

"WOAH!" "FUCK!"

The transport vessel veered hard to the left, narrowly dodging a massive bone quill shot by one of the Remnant Sacs, half the size of the vessel carrying Hawkes and his team; and immediately everyone was officially in PANIC mode.

"AND ARTILLERY!!!!!" One of the EVA team cried out in horror. "WE'RE SO FUCKING DEAD!"

"SHUT UP!" Hawkes chastised the junior EVA member. "STICK BY ME, GOT?!"

"Very encouraging, Admiral!" Wally muttered in abject fear. "Very encouraging, FUCKING hell!"

"I get it, but we have a job to do!" Hawkes insisted, trying to downplay his own raised fears over the deluge of awful events unfolding one after another. "Stick by me and we're gunning it for the Head Researcher's office!"

The transport vessel continued to dodge a number of bone quills launched by the Remnant Sacs, swiveling and swerving to and fro as the artillery projectiles narrowly missed the vessel and throwing everyone onboard into a frenzy of pure panic, before eventually arriving hastily at the port entry of the station and docking with great urgency. Hawkes and his team rapidly stepped into the pressurization chamber.

How the fuck are the transport vessels going to keep a steady chain of evacuation going, Hawkes thought nervously. When they have to deal with an accelerated timetable and ENEMY ARTILLERY?! Fuck that, we can't risk evacuating these people until that War Machine is activated! It's THEIR FAULT they scrapped their own damn rescue vessels, so FUCK 'EM!

"Pressurizing," A robotic voice said over the speakers, hissing harshly as the room filled with pressure and oxygen.

Worse yet, even though the Remnant would be focused on the Argonaut fleet, the Inferis Station was still in between the two like a billion rocks and a 300-cruiser-strong hard place. It was going to be inevitable that the station itself would receive a large brunt of collateral damage as a result of this eye-boggling battlefield.

Ssssstt!

As the doors to the inside of the station hissed open, Hawkes stormed inside, barely being followed by sprinting EVA members as Hawkes was immensely faster than them and was almost forgetting to let them keep up, alarmingly urgent to find the Head Researcher to lead them to the War Machine.

They had entered a grand departures and arrivals area, where several scientists, researchers, roboticists, and station personnel were running around screaming for their lives, hiding, looking for people to help, or generally doing their own things during this crisis situation. As badly as Hawkes wanted to help these poor citizens out, he had to focus on getting the War Machine activated- every wasted second was another small victory for the Remnant as they wreaked havoc across the epic cosmic battlegrounds.

BSSSSHHH!!! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!

RUMMMBBBBBLLLEEEEE!!

BWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!

The station began to shake and quake violently as Gaiters and artillery slammed into the back of the station, tearing apart infrastructure with wild ferocity, creating pandemonium throughout the massive complex and obliterating several key operating systems within minutes.

Hawkes, by this point, was running and stopping at random points through the hallways and corridors, checking for Gaiters while waiting up for the EVA team to catch up.

BWOOOOOSH- "HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...."

As if on queue, a Gaiter burrowed and blasted through several layers of metal, bursting into the hallway where Hawkes and his team was, leaving a massive hole in the station that created a momentary vacuum into the emptiness of space, before it was cut off by metal frames shuttering across the exposed opening. The Gaiter quickly recovered from its landing, hissing like a primordial, cosmically-colored alien reptile from its snub archosaurian jaw and stumbling with webbed feet, long clawed fingers, and two bone impalers jutting out of its midriff, its face covered by two chitin folds that resembled the vertical, slit-shaped pupils of a crocodile.

"GET BEHIND ME!" Hawkes ordered his team, unhooking his Riveter and blasting the Gaiter's limbs off -KRAK! KRAK!-; shooting its legs off and hindering its movement (its head was highly resistant against projectiles), watching the Gaiter crash to the ground before unsheathing his blade and stabbing the point through its skull. SHCK! As the Gaiter fell limp, Hawkes escorted the team forward, continuing to look around in watchful readiness as they moved toward the department where the Head Researcher would be located.

"HHHHHHH..." "AAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

Hawkes noticed a Gaiter as he passed by a cafe, which was grabbing station personnel, dragging them in range, and stabbing them repeatedly with their bone impalers whilst tearing chunks out of them with their maws. KRAK! KRAK! Hawkes swiftly dispatched the Gaiter's legs, running over and stomping on its bone impalers before executing it in the same fashion as the last one.

"Fuck, we can't delay anymore!" Hawkes muttered, utterly despairing that he was going to have to pass by several more people who'd die horribly so he could accomplish his task. "I swear, I'll revive all of you once we get this shit dealt with! Except maybe the JACKASSES THAT STRIPPED THE FUCKING EVACUATION SHIPS DOWN TO NUTS AND BOLTS! YOU DUMB FUCKS TRAPPED YOURSELVES!"

DOOOOSH. DOOSH. DOOSH.

Hawkes and his team suddenly stumbled as heavy, monstrous footsteps resounded deafeningly from around the corridor that led into a wider lobby area; and as they comprehended the threat their ears were communicating, it was too late- they rounded the corner.

"Oh..." "Oh FUCK!" "Naw, we're cooked."

The EVA crew made their final comments in despair as a fifteen-foot-tall, muscle-bound Gaiter hissed from its armored maw, wreaking horrific pandemonium throughout the lobby as it stampeded, crushed, and slammed furniture and station workers alike; built with the arms of a gorilla and the back legs of a rhinoceros, it was akin to an armored, story-tall deranged gorilla being thrown into a china shop. Hawkes, foreseeing death in the chaos of this atmosphere, immediately waved back the EVA crewmates.

"I'LL HANDLE HIM!"

His sword is steadied, held diagonally to the ground as he readied himself to launch upon the behemoth that tore across the wide and vast metroplex lobby with indiscriminate violence. Hawkes lowered his stature, grounding his feet and using his superhuman agility to pounce several feet into the air, stabbing his sword through one of the Gaiter's hulkish arms and activating the hilt, which extended four sharp proboscises and drilled into the exposed flesh to anchor the blade to flesh.

"HHHHHHHH!!!!" The Hulk Gaiter roared, swinging its mass around and decimating through infrastructure, sending debris flying across the expansive metroplex while Hawkes swung around like a ragdoll in the air, holding on with great might onto his greatsword while unhooking his Riveter with his other hand, leveling it at the roaring Gaiter's armored face and unloading upon it.

KRAK-KRAK-KRAK-KRAK-KRAK-KRAK-KRAK-KRAK!

The barrage of massive shells slammed into the Gaiter's features with the force of a propelled sledgehammer, cracking apart the armor and eventually penetrating into squishy flesh. The Gaiter fell onto its side as the shells delivered a near-fatal concussion to its skull, causing it to fall unconscious and stumble-crash to the ground. Hawkes unlatched his sword, hopping onto the Gaiter's massive face and slamming the tip of the blade through its exterior.

SCHHHHCK!

The Hulk Gaiter was dead, right as more lesser Gaiters arrived with stumbling gaits, hissing and seeking after defenseless station crewmembers. Hawkes grimaced atop the Hulk Gaiter's corpse, looking back and gesturing for the EVA team to follow whilst taking pot-shots at approaching Xenos.

"WE HAVE MORE WORK TO DO! MOVE IT!"

---------------------------------------------------

Swansea, Daisuke, Theseus, and the Patriarch's Agents, termed 'Praetores', had just exited their transport vessel and were hurrying through the ominously silent and empty departures/arrivals area they had entered; and within minutes of navigating through the station-

BWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSHHHHHH!! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!

The station was slammed into by hundreds of Gaiters and bone quills, sending electrical power surges across the station's infrastructure before thousands of bulbs exploded from over-surges; then followed darkness, then emergency lighting as the backup generators kicked on. Alarm sirens rang ominously throughout the station, and distant screams could be heard echoing throughout the complex from ventilation ducts and long corridors leading into pitch-black hallways. Theseus and his team had docked at the opposite side of the station, where there was less human traffic and thus a less-crowded path to zero in on the Head Researcher's office.

"I'm regretting agreeing to this fucking bullshit!" Swansea cursed plentifully through his helmet, in a constant state of horror as Infantriere Theseus led Daisuke, Swansea and the Praetores through the eery and grim environment that was rapidly descending into chaos the further they headed into the massive space station. Daisuke, who had been given a serious amount of mental training and fortitude lessons from Theseus himself (Swansea refused the training), was steeling his mindset and locking in with the narrowed eyes of a hunter.

"This way." Theseus muttered laconically, using his internal mapping routes to lead the flock to the Head Researcher's office.

"We'll get through this." Daisuke said with confident affirmation, receiving a temporary look back of approval from Theseus. "The Achilles Series was made from researching the armor of Xenos scum, and these EXOVA suits were created from the adaptive, bio-metallic chitin of those Hive Leaders and their armored exteriors. We are merely fighting fire with fire. We will cleanse this station, without a doubt in my mind."

Swansea's helmet craned back, very slowly, with nonverbal and intense worry and dread; the complex diction and serious attitude simultaneously assuaged Swansea's concerns and frightened the hell out of him- what exactly had Theseus been putting in this kid's head?!

"When we return, I'm unwinding you by about a thousand."

"W-What?"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'W-What??'?! HAVE YOU HEARD YOURSELF, SHRIMP?!"

"I see no issue," Theseus muttered to himself, stomping along as he led the path to their objective with his hulking demeanor and looming, completely awe-inspiring presence.

---------------------------------------------------

(Music: "The Corrupted", by The Day We Died)

---------------------------------------------------

It wasn't long before their trek through the barely-lit hallways and increasingly blood-filled corridors led up a set of stairs to a wide and expansive room filled with botany and fauna, held behind reinforced glass frames and hued with underframed lighting— the Hydroponics Deck, where food was grown, harvested, and fed to the station's attendants.

Several hydroponics workers suddenly flooded through the room from the rightmost entrance, screaming bloody murder as a swarm of Gaiters followed behind them and tore into a few of the laggards; and without a further iota of hesitation, Theseus bolted into action. The ensuing scenes of pure carnage and slaughter were nothing short of the art of war; the apex of martial prowess darted into the fray as if it called to him instinctively; his next actions the very embodiment of DEATH FORGED INTO MAN.

KRAK-KRAK! KRAK-KRAK! KRAK-KRAK! KRAK-KRAK! CRA-A-ACK!

Without wasting a breath, he unhooked and leveled his Riveter with his left hand, aiming instinctively at the legs of the nearest Gaiters and blew them off with apex precision whilst palming the frontal skull portion of an ambushing Gaiter, wrenching his fist inward and crushing its cranium completely; then launching forward with such force that a massive gust of air caused several of the crewmates to stumble backward; accelerating at near-terminal horizontal velocity, he lowered his shoulder plate at the incoming Gaiters-

CRHHHHCCCHCHCHCCKKKK!!!!

-At the point of contact between armor and Gaiter flesh, their bodies exploded outward as Theseus SLAMMED through them, splattering several parts of the room, crewmates, and other Gaiters with the gore of Xenos. Whilst three Gaiters stumble-sprinted towards him, he unholstered the monstrously sized double-edged battleaxe magnetically attached to his back with his right arm, bringing it up and over his head, rotating his torso to gather greater torque, waiting with refined calmness until the tip of the shaft had reached the very edge of the maximum reach of his arm's length, before unwinding leftwards and whipping the plasma-rimmed blade like a whip-

VVVRRRRRRRRRRRR-M!

-Not so much slashing, but utterly d-e-c-i-m-a-t-i-n-g with a cut condensed into precise nonexistence; its blade cut like melted butter through limb-head-limb-limb-head-limb-limb-head-limb. The solid core beneath the plasma-rimmed edge created an immense kinetic force that, when wielded by a hulking superhuman like a Magna Caedes, ended up imparting the effect of a small meteoric impact.

CRRSHHHCCCCKKSKSSSHCCHCHHKK-SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT!

As the cleave swung clean through the upper torso section of the three Gaiters, their lower bodies crumpled lifelessly to the ground as their heads and uppermost limbs flung through the air and rolled across the ground. As another Gaiter lunged for Theseus, he jabbed the blunt edge of the pommel into its throat -CCHKKCK!!- impaling it mid-air before letting the handle slide through his gauntlet and slamming the Gaiter onto the ground, right as Theseus' boot raised over its face and -SQUELCH!- crushed its skull inwards, sending gore spewing out from the underside of his boot.

I am extremely sorry for all the crass comments I made behind your back, Swansea thought in pure dread- now realizing why the Patriarch was so confident in allowing Swansea and Daisuke to simply 'stick' with Theseus if they chose not to fight. A one-man army that drilled through the terrifying car-sized Gaiters like it was nothing- an absolute beast that operated with the same force of nature as solar flares, tornados, and hurricanes.

"WATCH OUT!" Daisuke called out, seeing a pack of Gaiters creep up to ambush Theseus from behind-

SMACK- Theseus rotated on his heel and delivered a fatal blow to the nearest Gaiter's thorax, blasting his gauntlet clean through and sending its innards spraying through the air, before wrenching -SCHGLB!- his way -CCKCKSS!- through its upper cavity, shoving his massive gauntlet up the esophagus, until his plated digits used the Gaiter's crocodilic maw as a deadly close-weapon accessory. As a swarm of five Gaiters, along with the two earlier, closed in on and surrounded Theseus, he wrenched his arm upward to tear the corpse's head and spine from the rest of its mutilated body, sending gore and offal in every conceivable direction, before immediately swinging around and slamming the flat end of the axe horizontally into three of the monsters, then used his makeshift Gaiter maw fist to clamp down on an approaching Gaiter's head and crushed it inward; their teeth able to chew through steel and their own reinforced bone, as Theseus had just discovered whilst he gripped his gauntlet so viciously against the Gaiter's skull that it slowly cracked inward, shredding brain matter and causing the Gaiter to spasm horribly with flailing limbs and twitching bones until the -CHRCK!- head was crushed completely. The body fell from his gauntlet in its semi-obliterated state, and such a disturbing death had phased even the collective conscience of the flooding, stumbling Gaiter hordes for a few moments- granting ample time for station crewmates to flee and Theseus' team to move away and pursue their goal even while the Gaiter hordes snapped out of their dread and continued their attempted blood-making.

Daisuke and Swansea, meanwhile, were being led through the Hydroponics Deck by the Praetores leader, Spartacus, as the other squadmates tore, with great delight, through the rapid swarm of Gaiters attempting to pursue the vulnerable station residents and their own assets from behind.

BRRRSSSCCHHH!!!

A Gaiter crashed down from the ceiling and slammed directly into Spartacus, its metal fragments and debris immediately being sucked back upward toward the opening into outer space, until the dynamic nano-insulation plates shuttered over the perforation, leaving a hissing Gaiter standing atop a dazed Spartacus and directly staring down Swansea and Daisuke. As Daisuke expressed sheer horror at the daunting size of the Gaiter (vehicle-sized) and its horrific look-

PWW! PWW!

Swansea fired the Plasma Cutter at the Gaiter's legs, sending it falling and slamming into Spartacus a second time as gravity delivered another punishment onto his bruised body. The Gaiter hissed, having no interest in Spartacus and instead clawing its way over toward Swansea in a fit of barely sentient rage. As it propped itself up from the ground and pounced at him, he felt a moment where his vision tunneled- as if he was tapping into that same rage and deathly readiness he'd first experienced aboard the Tulpar in his attempt to kill the b-a-s-t-a-r-d himself.

With his free hand, he launched forward to meet the Gaiter in close combat, managing to slam the palm of his hand into the Gaiter's neck and digging his sharpened plated fingers into its armored skin, before slamming it into the ground and raising his magnetic boot to -STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!- until its head was mush and half-developed brain matter.

"That..." Daisuke muttered, viewing the now head-mushed corpse of the Gaiter. "Was... Fucking... SIICK!"

"CAN YOU LOCK THE FUCK IN AND MOVE?!"

As they helped Spartacus back up onto his feet and lent him to one of the other Praetores for medical aid, Swansea vocally spoke his intent to lead the way with his holo-map, practically jog-running with Daisuke at his side and the rest of the group in tow, the Praetores directing the surviving station residents into a nearby safe room and closely following the Tulpar crewmates, blasting and slicing away at the approaching hordes of Gaiters tearing through the hallways.

As they were running, Daisuke took a moment to glance out the long port windows allowing exterior view of the cosmos, and noticed something quite leviathan in nature looming over the station and nearing closer, raising some inconceivably massive tendril over the corridor they were sprinting through-

"Uh, Swansea, what is that?" Daisuke asked, much to Swansea's irate irritation.

"CAN'T YOU SEE I'M BUSY?!" Swansea shouted with adrenaline pumping through his head, glancing in mere curiosity to see what Daisuke was referring to. "WE CAN'T- ah fuck."

BWSH------!

As the tendril came bearing down on the station infrastructure, it completely split the hallway in two and almost immediately drained the sound from their environment, sending Swansea and Daisuke flying toward the opening until the dynamic insulation plates shuttered rapidly over the gashes; and the two of them slammed into the repaired wall, falling to the floor in a daze; cut off from the rest of the team.

---------------------------------------------------

As he stood up groggily from the brunt impact, Swansea panicked as he began to realize they were, in fact, stranded by their lonesomes in this Xenos hell carnival; left in a barely-lit hallway with occasionally beaming, orange-hued emergency lights blaring from the small entrenched horizontal slits inlaid within the heavily damaged corridor infrastructure.

"Fuck! FUUUCK!" Swansea whisper-screamed in undeniable horror, realizing that he and Daisuke were suddenly cut off from their only source of protection and guaranteed safety from this absolute horrorshow they'd been launched into. With quickening awareness, he steered to Daisuke, gripping his Plasma Cutter in the right hand while gripping Daisuke's gauntlet with his other hand. Even if he'd rejected the mental 'training', he'd still undergone the loathsomely fatiguing yet enlightening and useful combat regimes Theseus forced them to take on.

"Daisuke, you're gonna stick by me. This is a horror movie, and we're prime rib for the Gaiters. Keep your eyes up and around. I'll take the vanguard, you take the rearguard. Don't stray."

Daisuke nodded, and the two of them slowly proceeded down the hallway, their boots heavily echoing against the haunting and pitch-dark passageways fraught with the derelict debris inflicted by the Xenos menace.

"You remember how we shoot their limbs, right?" Daisuke muttered hauntingly to Swansea, who leered as if he'd been slapped in the back of the head.

"Are you MOCKING me, you little shit?!"

"Wh-What do you mean, boss?!"

"NO SHIT, I KNOW HOW TO USE A FUCKING PLASMA CUTTER! JUST BECAUSE IT'S SPRUCED UP DOESN'T MEAN IT'S-!"

DDDDD-RK!

A Gaiter burst through the upper ventilation, falling onto the alloyed floor and groaning in a daze as it had slammed head-first from the crawl-space above. Watching the Gaiter struggle to get up, Swansea craned his head to Daisuke; almost as if defying the sanity of the situation to make a viscerally-Swansea-like point to him.

"Well, go ahead, bopper," Swansea snickered through the armored helmet. "Show me your expertise."

BSH! BSH! BSH!

Swansea, in fact, watched the expertise of Daisuke as he aimed his Plasma Cutter and shot three beams at the legs and head of the Gaiter, executing it entirely, before proceeding to walk down the hallway. Swansea clicked his tongue, groaning internally before begrudgingly following behind.

"Fuckin' showoff."

As Daisuke proceeded monotonously along the bloodied and battered corridors, Swansea regularly checked his holo-map to ensure the coordinates kept them on the right track, their magnetic-soled boots trodding along with the auditory impact of an artillery shell being loaded into a Howitzer. The atmosphere crept up on them slowly, attempting to pinch away at their psyche the same as it did upon the Tulpar; and the familiar engineering and infrastructure of the outdated station did not assuage the concerns or traumatic revisitings happening to each of them at this point in time.

Yet still, they plowed on. Undeterred by mere existential horror (somehow), and with the sheer confidence to trust in one another after all the previous hardship they'd endured, it felt to each of them that they had a duty to deliver-

CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!

The lights affixed to their plasma cutters suddenly jolted in pulsating terror as the sounds of metal clashing against the ground rang out through the empty, haunting corridors; with recovering conviction, Daisuke and Swansea turned their lights upon-

"H-huh?!" "CKREIST OHN AN' 'ATCHET!"

The boarish, swarthy Scotsman cried out in terror as their lights shone across his demeanor, seeing a number of wounds, stains, and other detritus amalgamating his unkempt, blonde, and wild-eyed appearance.

"Nearly blew mah fookin' 'ead off, fer fook's sake!" The Scotsman cried out, pushing himself back onto his feet and dusting himself off, his eyes darting around in subtle dread. "Can't geht the fookin' lecky to work, so now we're skulkin in the fookin' shadows with the Gai'ers!"

Swansea stared in utter disgust, realizing he was now forced to try and reconcile the words of a Scot amid an absolute hell-swarm of Gaiters. "Shut the fuck up and follow us!"

The Scot, in clear dread and trepidation, shook his head and clutched the monkey-wrench in his hand until his knuckles were white. "Nae, ah can't, ya fook! Nee'ta find mah cú, Rex, or t'ere ain't a point in livin', damn it!" He sobbed, seeming determined to charge past Swansea and Daisuke.

"Alright, enjoy that," Swansea remarked rather uncaringly, much to Daisuke's horror.

"Swansea, why would you say that?!" Daisuke implored naively. "We have to help him out!"

"Are you, perhaps, just a little dense, Daisuke? If we don't activate this K-5 thing to kill the Gaiters, it is GAME OVER. I am NOT risking that any further than needed for this shitfest!"

Swansea straightened his shoulders and growled as he tromped forward, with Daisuke following closely behind him in deep disappointment as they both watched the Scot traversing along in search of his pet. P-1 was within short distance from here, and Swansea had every intent to activate it before the whole station collapsed into calamitous, fiery brimstone.

------------------------------------------------- Read the whole story here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60303202/chapters/153895822

#mouthwashing #oc #curly mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #original character #anya mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #writing #nurse anya #science fiction #scifi #mouthwashing game #mouthwashing au #grant curly #alien species

8 notes · View notes

littlepeakydevil · 3 months ago

Text

Part 10: Red Right Hand

Chapter 16: Away it Goes

Warnings: Injuries.

Prev Chapter • Series • Part 10 • Next Part

Lily watched Kimber’s men move away, searching vigilantly for any signs that any of them were thinking of trying anything. Tommy was looking down at where Danny laid on the cobblestones. When he spoke, his voice was soft and sorrowful.

“Scudboat, Curly, pick him up.” Wincing, as if only just then realizing that he had a bullet hole in his chest, Tommy began to walk unevenly towards the Garrison. Lily jogged to follow him, hovering by his side worriedly. Behind them, their boys started to follow. “I’m alright,” he muttered at her hands fluttering anxiously over his shoulder.

“You have a bullet in you.”

“Not my first time.” His face twisted in a grimace. She held the doors to the pub open for him.

“Tommy,” she insisted urgently. He finally looked at her, and he must have seen the fear in her eyes because he touched her cheek lightly.

“Don’t worry. If I was going to keel over and die it would’ve happened by now.”

“You’re not funny.”

He flashed a tiny, wincing smirk. But a grunt left his lips when she helped pull his arms out of his coat. He sat down heavily in a chair.

“Take off your shirt,” she ordered, tossing his coat away.

“You know, I don’t really think that I’m in the mood, right now…”

“What did I just say about you not being funny?” she asked, grabbing his cheeks lightly. He smiled in mock innocence against her hands, his fingers setting to work on his buttons. Still, the knowledge that he felt well enough to joke helped put her more at ease. She suspected that was part of why he was doing it. It worked up until she saw just how much blood had already soaked its way into his undershirt.

“Sorry, sorry,” she apologized when he hissed in pain as she helped him pull it off over his head. “Arthur,” she said, suddenly feeling incredibly out of her depth. Arthur looked up from where he’d just stepped in through the doors. “Help me.”

The older Shelby swept in and took charge instantaneously. Their other men moved forward to help. They hauled Tommy up, Jeremiah pulling a pair of tweezers from a kit in his pocket. He dipped them in alcohol to clean them, then nodded to Arthur.

“Right, Lils, I need you to help me hold him.”

She nodded, moving around to stand behind Tommy, her arms winding around his shoulders. Arthur grabbed Tommy by the face.

“You ready, brother? This is going to hurt.”

Tommy nodded. Lily fought back the sick feeling settling in her stomach, reminding herself that they knew what they were doing. Tommy had been shot before and survived. It would be fine.

Jeremiah wiped a rag along the bullet hole to clean it of blood. The wound was little more than the circumference of a coin, bloody and settled in the upper left side of Tommy’s chest. The tweezers glinted against the light, and then he dug them into Tommy’s skin.

Tommy roared in pain, body attempting to buck and twist away. Lily tightened her arms around him, fighting to hold him in place. He was a lot stronger than her.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she whispered in his ear. His skin glistened with sweat. Arthur was attempting to mumble encouraging, rallying words. The tweezers twisted and Tommy cried out again. She could feel his muscles seizing beneath her hands, trying his hardest to fight against his body’s instincts and hold himself still. Jeremiah dug the tweezers a little deeper into the wound, and Tommy’s head flung back as he screamed, face twisting at the pain.

And then it was over. Jeremiah pulled the tweezers free, a little glinting ball of metal clutched between them. Tommy’s body hunched forward, and had Lily not been holding him up she suspected he would have been at great risk of falling to the floor.

“There,” Jeremiah grinned triumphantly. “I still have the knack.” He dropped the bullet into a glass. Tommy’s chest heaved, his hair soaked with sweat.

“Don’t let him go just yet, Lils,” Arthur warned. She shot him a questioning look but kept her arms tight around Tommy. He held out a bottle of booze to him. “Have a drink.”

Tommy grabbed the bottle, taking a small swallow from it. Arthur took the bottle back.

“All right. Deep breath!” He cupped the back of Tommy’s neck and poured a glugging helping of the booze onto the wound. Tommy jerked and groaned, teeth gritted against his scream. “That’s it,” he ruffled a hand at Tommy’s hair. “It’s done.”

Tommy’s chest heaved. Letting her grip on him loosen, Lily rubbed a hand along his back.

“Bandages?” she asked. Arthur nodded, waving Jeremiah away to go fetch some. Tommy wiped a hand across his face, pushing back the locks of his fringe that had fallen across his forehead. “I got it,” she said to Arthur after Jeremiah returned with a spool of white gauze and a needle and thread

“The men put Danny in the snug.”

“Okay. We’ll be right there,” Lily waved Jeremiah and Arthur away, pulling up a chair to sit in front of Tommy. Wiping his chest clean of lingering blood, sweat, and alcohol, she set to work stitching the wound closed and wrapping it carefully with the bandages. “Lean forward?” she asked softy, and he did what she asked without question, eyes remaining trained on her face. All the other men were gathered in the snug, leaving them alone. “What?”

“You always take such good care of me,” he whispered. Lily snorted.

“I think you’re delirious from blood loss, love.”

“I’m serious.” His hand grabbed at her fingers and squeezed. “I–” he swallowed hard, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Leaning forward until their foreheads brushed, she nodded, closing her eyes. “Me too.”

After she’d finished bandaging his chest and got him back in a shirt and his coat, they shuffled into the snug with the others to gather briefly around Danny’s body. Tommy made a toast, and they passed around a bottle, each taking a sip. Lily stared down at the body, as numb as she was saddened. A twinge of guilt jerked within her, at the realization that despite her grief at Danny’s death, she was still grateful that it was him who took that second bullet, and not Tommy.

Sometimes, it frightened her a little, how she would happily sacrifice everyone else on earth if it meant Tommy would be okay.

—

The pub was filled with the loud cheers of drunken men and women. Everyone had turned up to celebrate their victory against Billy Kimber. A few people were beginning to even dance, despite the lack of music.

It was all getting a bit loud for her.

Squeezing past John and Esme, who were currently locked in a rather passionate embrace, Lily pushed through the front doors and out into the cold night air, tugging her coat tighter around herself. Tommy was standing out there, alone, watching the truck they had loaded Danny’s body onto as it pulled away down the road. Even once it disappeared into the distance, his eyes remained staring in the direction it had gone. Lily took a step forward, and he lifted his arm to wrap around her. Sighing tiredly, her head rested against his shoulder.

“Come with me,” he said suddenly, turning them with his arm still around her, guiding her down the road.

“Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer.

“Tommy,” her steps stuttered as soon as she recognized the route he was taking. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing bad, don’t worry.”

She examined his face, then nodded. “I saw you talking with Polly, earlier.” Curious as she might’ve been to hear what Polly told him about her confrontation with Grace, she knew that Polly was likely to be more candid if she wasn’t there as a witness. So she hung back, and trusted that Tommy would fill her in on it all later.

“Mhm. She says that they had a drink. She told Grace to leave town by tomorrow.”

Lily stared up into his eyes. He wasn’t looking at her, gaze instead focused on the rising smoke from the factories in the distance. “That’s all?”

The arm still around her shoulders tightened. “No. Polly says…she thinks that it was real.” He finally looked at her, those baby blue eyes sad and conflicted. “She says that Grace fell in love for real.”

She had not thought it possible to have one’s heart put back together and simultaneously broken, and yet there it was. An agonizing paradox occurring within her very own chest. She let out a choked off sound, eyes welling with tears.

“I don’t know if that makes it worse or not.”

Tommy made a quiet sound of agreement. “Me neither.”

“You think Polly’s right?”

“Polly’s never been wrong about matters of the heart.”

Sniffling and clearing her throat, she anxiously eyed the apartment complex that just came into view.

“If she’s still there…what will you say to her?”

“I don’t know yet.”

It felt like it took nearly a thousand years, and yet at the same time only a few seconds for them to walk down the street and up the stairs to Grace’s flat. Lily stared at the door that separated the hallway from the room like it might bite her, well aware that she was teetering dangerously close to cowering into Tommy’s side.

Fuck this, she’d take facing down Kimber a second time over whatever was waiting for them on the other side of that door.

As if sensing the swirl of anxiety that had opened up within her stomach, Tommy dropped his arm from around her shoulder, opting to instead clasp their hands together. The door creaked as he slowly pushed it open.

Grace was standing by the window, her hair whirling when she turned her head at the sound. There were several packed bags at her feet, her coat already pulled on.

The sight of her was enough to have tears, both of fury and heartbreak, building behind Lily’s eyes. A part of her wanted to scream at her. To rush forward and shake her hard. Tommy could have died. He could have died, all because Grace spilled their secrets to Campbell.

But she was just doing her job. And she’d put herself between them and Campbell when she didn’t have to by bringing them here on the night he’d launched his manhunt for Tommy.

And looking at her, face to face, Lily knew she would never have it in herself to hate her.

Grace took a step forward, eyes wide and horrified at the sight of Tommy’s bandaged chest beneath his shirt, but stopped when she noticed how they both tensed at her approach.

“What exactly can I say?” To her credit, she seemed truly ashamed of herself. Her eyes downcast and shoulders slumped. Lily squeezed the hand that Tommy was holding tightly. He squeezed back.

“I don’t know, Grace,” Tommy said dully, though Lily recognized the numbness in his tone to really be him trying to hide just how hurt he actually was.

“I could tell you who I really am.”

“I think I know who you are. And you know who I am. And who Lily is.”

“The circumstance is not important.”

Tommy scoffed. Lily sighed.

“Circumstance?” he looked down.

“Is all it is.” Grace took several more cautious steps towards them. “Just uniform.”

“You betrayed us.” It came out weaker than Lily had intended, but there it was. Out there in the open. The ugly, painful truth. “You betrayed us every day from the first moment you stepped foot in this place.”

Grace’s face crumpled. “I took no enjoyment out of it. It wasn’t…it wasn’t personal.” When they said nothing, she looked down. “You both have every right to hate me. I know that. But I’m sorry. Please, please believe that. I know I’ve given you no reason to, but I am. Truly sorry. And,” she stuttered, looking on the verge of tears, “and tell Ada that I’m sorry too. For what happened with Freddie.” She wiped at her eyes. “I resigned my commission the moment that the job was done. I…I had no need for it, anymore. I’m done with it.”

“Yeah,” Tommy’s shoulder heaved where it was pressed against Lily. “Some day, I will throw this gun into the canal.”

“Why not now?” Grace looked up, eyes suddenly full of hope. She moved closer, until she was so near that Lily could count her eyelashes. Tommy reached out to touch her cheek. Lily allowed one of her hands to lightly touch Grace’s upper arm. Grace settled one hand on Tommy’s face, bowing her head, pulling them close until their three foreheads rested against each other.

“Here it comes, Tommy, Lily,” her eyes darted between them both. “I love you.”

Lily had to suck in her lips to hold back her sob. And to keep herself from saying it back.

“And there it goes, Grace. Away it goes. We can say it as much as we like, but there is no chance.” Tommy’s voice was gentle and firm. Lily sniffled, and his arm wrapped around her waist to squeeze comfortingly against her hip. Grace’s face crumpled slightly, pulling away.

“I understand,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry, again.” She hesitated, then reached into her pocket. “But…if you…” she sighed at her stuttering, shaking her head, holding out a worn piece of paper to them. “I will be in London, one week. At this address. Finish your business here and join me.”

Tommy took the paper from her, looking down at it mournfully. Grace’s voice lowered to a whisper.

“I have an idea. If you change your minds, we could go to New York. Start fresh. The three of us.” When neither of them said anything, she continued on hastily. “I know I have no right to ask for a second chance from either of you, but I swear you won’t regret it. I swear.”

Lily exchanged a glance with Tommy. And in his eyes she saw the same warring conflict she felt within herself. It was so tempting. But there was the business and his family to consider. While the only thing really tying Lily to Birmingham was Tommy, she knew how much it would pain him to leave his siblings and Polly behind. Just as it would hurt to have to start all over again. He’d built so much. Poured his fucking soul into that company. To abandon both now…what had everything they’d done been for then, if not for the family and the company?

“You don’t have to give me your answer now. You can write to this address. Just, please, think about it?” Grace asked, and Lily was struck by the blue of her eyes, her golden hair shining in the dark.

Fuck, the thought of giving her up hurt so much.

Tommy stroked her face tenderly. “Okay,” he acquiesced, even though Lily was pretty sure, deep down, he knew just as well as she did what their decision would be. “We’ll think about it.”

—

She spent the entire walk back to the Garrison crying.

Throughout the entire day, she’d pushed away all of her feelings about Grace and her betrayal. Numbed herself to them until the business with Kimber was done. But now that was over, and seeing Grace, listening to her voice…

Apparently it had opened the floodgates of emotion she’d spent the entire day attempting to keep a bay.

“Lily. Lily,” Tommy said quietly, reaching for her. “Love, come here.”

Sniffling, she let him tug her into a dark alley, pulling her into his arms, shushing softly as he rocked her back and forth. Her face buried in his chest, hands fisting in his shirt.

“I know, I know,” Tommy chanted, rubbing her back, resting his head on top of hers. “I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head furiously. “Not your fault,” she mumbled. Tommy’s hand stroked lightly over her hair, hugging her tighter. It took a long time for her to settle, and when she did it was to just slump exhaustively against him. Her nose wrinkled at the coppery scent of the dried blood staining his shirt. “You’re going to have to throw this shirt out.”

“Yeah,” he continued to pet her hair.

“I’m going to miss her.”

“Me too.”

“Fuck,” she wiped at her eyes, scrubbing her cheeks in an attempt to erase any evidence of her tears. Tommy cupped her face gingerly, tilting it back, his thumbs rubbing lightly under her eyes to wipe away the smudged makeup there.

“Are you okay?”

Lips lifting in a humorless, half smile, she nodded. He pulled her in for another firm hug, squeezing her with muscular arms. Even after they pulled away and started to walk from the alley back onto the main road, he held tightly to her hand.

It was quiet by the time they made it back to the pub.

Polly was pacing back and forth near the bar, checking at her watch when they walked in. Arthur and John leaned drunkenly against each other in one of the booths, raising their glasses to them when they came in.

“Drink?” Polly offered. Lily took off her cap, moving to the bar.

“Not whiskey,” Tommy pointed, indicating to Polly where she could find the bottle of champagne still stowed behind the bar. Lily pulled a cigarette out of her case and lit it, hoping that it would somehow hide the way her face crumpled slightly.

“The one she bought,” Polly didn’t even try to keep the disdain in her voice. Tommy began to fiddle with the cork.

“You want to open it?” he asked, looking at Lily. She shook her head.

“Nah. Champagne corks scare me.”

He paused, raising an eyebrow.

“What? They’re like mini cannons!”

That got even a chuckle from Polly. Tommy’s lips twitched, his eyes fond. “Today was a good day.” He turned back to Polly. But the words were vastly undercut by his voice, which was flat and dead. Tired. “All of Kimber’s men were busy here, so the Lees boys took all their pitches at the Worcester races. It couldn’t have gone better if we’d planned it.” He strode to the middle of the room, heading to his brothers. “The Shelby Brothers Limited are now the third largest legal race track operation in the country.”

Arthur and John mumbled drunkenly, lifting their glasses to clink with the champagne bottle when Tommy held it out.

“Only the Sabinis and the Solomons are bigger than us, boys.” He looked around the pub. “And all my family is here to celebrate.” The cork popped and even though she’d been preparing herself for it, Lily jumped with a small squeak. Polly patted her arm with a chuckle. Tommy held up the opened bottle, champagne fizzing and running down the sides of it, making a toast to the company. “Cheers,” he returned to the bar, pouring champagne into Lily’s empty glass and then Polly’s. Polly was watching him with analytic eyes. He set the bottle down with a thud, and then leaned over the bar, letting his head thump down against the wood. Lily rubbed between his shoulder blades. Polly patted his head.

“They’ll be others.”

Tommy raised his head and lifted the bottle. “To the others. All of them.” He clinked the bottle with her and Polly’s glasses, and then took a swig straight from it.

“Come on,” he grabbed Lily’s hand. She made a surprised sound, downing the rest of her glass and letting him pull her back outside without so much as a goodbye to Polly.

“Where are we going?”

“To the office.”

Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she fell into step beside him.

“So,” she tried to think of something lighter to talk about. “Are you planning on having many others?” She raised an eyebrow at him cheekily. He chuckled lightly.

“Perhaps,” the teasing in his voice faded when he looked at her more seriously. “Is that alright?”

“As long as I get to come along.”

Smirking, he kissed her hair. “Wouldn’t want to have it any other way, love.”

His keys jingled when he pulled them from his pocket, unlocking the door to the office and holding it open for her to duck inside. She watched him sweep towards his desk the moment the door clicked shut behind them. The office was mostly dark, save for the dim light that Tommy turned on near his desk. Moving to the kitchen, she brewed a pot of tea, filling two teacups. She could hear the clicks of his typewriter from their office.

She set down the teacups onto his desk when she came in. Sliding into the space behind his chair, she wrapped her arms around him, kissing his neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Writing a letter.”

“To Grace?”

“Mhm,” he pulled the paper from the typewriter. “Want to read it?”

Hoping up to sit on the desk, she took the paper gingerly, eyes scanning over it.

“You can sign it too, if you’d like.”

“Okay,” she took the pen he offered her, scribbling her name beneath his. “Flipping a coin to decide if we go to her in London, then?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “Never thought of you to be one to leave things to fate.”

He reached into his pocket, rolling a silver coin between his fingers. “I’m not.”

“My mum used to tell me to flip a coin when I was having trouble making a decision. Depending on whether or not I was disappointed about which way it landed, that would tell me how I really felt.”

“Your mother sounds like a wise woman.”

“Yeah, she is.”

“Call it.”

“Heads, we leave. Tails, we stay.”

He flipped it, high into the air, the silver gleaming in the light as it turned and turned, falling until Tommy caught it, slamming it down onto the desk between them.

Prev Chapter • Series • Part 10 • Next Part

#tommy shelby x oc #lily callaghan #lily callaghan x tommy shelby #love me where i'm most ruined #red right hand #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders oc #peaky blinders fanfic

3 notes · View notes

comicwaren · 1 year ago

Text

From Punisher Vol. 14 #003, “The Other Side of Terror”

Art by Dave Wachter and Dan Brown

Written by David Pepose

#punisher #joe garrison #detective linus #detective ward #fearmaster #ariel tremmore #laura garrison #danny garrison #stephanie garrison #triple-a #jigsaw #marvel #comics #marvel comics

2 notes · View notes

444namesplus · 1 year ago

Text

all character names used in the song of ice and fire pile

addam addison adrack adrian aegon aegor aelyx aemma aemon aemond aenar aenys aerea aerion aeron aeryn aerys aethan aethelmure aggo agnes ahai aladale aladore alan alannys alaric alarra alayaya alayne albar albett albin alchemist alekyne alerie alester alfyn alicent all allar alleras alliser allyria alton alvyn alyce alyn alys alysanne alyssa amarei amerei amory amos and andar andrey andrik andros androw anguy annara antario anya archer archon's ardrian aregelle areo argella arianne arlan armen armond aron arra arrana arrec arryk arryn arsa arstan arthur artos arwood arwyn arya arys asha ashara ashford aubrey aurane aurion axell ayrmidon azor b baelish baelon baelor balaq balerion ball balman balon banefort bar baratheon barbara barber barbrey barneby barra barre barristan barthogan bass bastards beesbury bella bellanora bellegere bellena bellonara belly ben benard benedict benfred benfrey benifer benjen benjicot bennard bennarion bennifer benton beren berena beric bernarr beron bertrand bess beth bethany bettley bharbo big billy biter black blackbar blackberry blackfyre blackshield blacktyde blackwood blade blood bloody blount blue boarkiller boisterous bolton boremund boros bors borys botley bowen boy bracken bran branda brandon brax braxton breaker brella brienne brightstone bronn broome brother brother brune brus bryan bryce bryen brynden bryndon buckler bullock bulwer bump burley burton byan byrch byron bywater c cadwyl cafferen caleotte calla captain captain's cargyll caron cassana cassel cassella caswell category catelyn catspaw cayn cedric celtigar cerelle cerenna cerissa cersei cerwyn ceryse character characters characters charlton chataya chayle chett chiggen children clarent clayton clegane clement cleos cletus cleyton clifton clydas cockshaw codd cohollo coldhands colemon colin colmar commander commander's connington corbray corlys corne correy coryanne costayne courtesan cousin cox craghorn

crake crakehall crane cregan cregard creighton cressen creylen crow culiper cuy cynthea cyrelle cyrenna d daario dacey dacks daegon daella daemion daemon daenerys daenora daenys daeron daeryssa dagmer dagon dale dalt dalton damion damon danny danos danwell dareon daring darke darklyn darlessa darnold darry daryn daughter daughter daven davos daxos dayne deana deceased deem delena demonlover denyo denys desmera desmond devan deziel dick dickon dobber donal dondarrion donel donella donnel donnis donnor dontos doran doreah dormund dorna dornishman dragons drogo drumm drunkard dryn duckfield duncan dunstable dunstan duram durran durrandon durwald dusk duskendale dusky dustin duur dyanna dykk dywen e ebrose eddara eddard eddison edgar edgerran edmund edmure edmyn edric edwell edwyle edwyn edyth eerl egen elaena elder eldred eleyna elia elinda elinor ella ellard ellaria ellyn elmar elmo elric elwood elyas elyn elys elysar emberlei emma emmett emmon emmond emory endrew erena erenford erich ermesande erren erryk essie estermont estren ethan euron ever eye eyed f falena falyse farman farring farwynd father fenn fergon flatnose flement fletcher flint florent florian florys flowers folk follard fool foote for forel fork forley foss fossoway fox franklyn free frenken frey from g gael gaemon gage galbart gardener gared gareth garibald garlan garrison garse garth gaunt gawen gendry genna gerald geremy gerion germund gerold gerrick gevin gilbert gilliane gilly gilly's glendon glover godry gold goodbrook goodbrother goode goren gormon gormond gorold gower graceford gran grance greatjon green greenbeard greenfield greenhand gregor grell grenn grey greydon greyiron greyjoy griffith grover groves guard guncer gwayne gwenys gwin gwynesse gylbert gyldayn gyles gysella h h'ghar haegon haereg haggo haggon hagon haigh hairy hake hal halder hali halleck hallis hallyne halys hammer hardy hardyng hareth harlan harlaw harlon harma harmen harmond harmund harrag harras harren harrion harrold harron harry harwin harwyn harys hawick hayford heddle helman hendry henly herndon hero herrock heward hibald high hightower hill hilmar historical hoare hoarfrost hoat hobb hobber hobert hodor hogg hoke hollard holly hop horas horgan horn

hornwood horpe horse horton horys hosman hosteen hostella hoster hot hotah hotho howard howland hubard hubert hugh hugo hullen humble humfrey hunter huntsman husband illifer illyrio ilyn imry irri iv ix j jacaerys jacelyn jack jacks jaehaerys jafer jaime jalabhar jammos janei janna janos jaqen jared jaremy jason jasper jast jax jayne jennis jenny jenye jeor jeren jeyne jhiqui jhogo jirelle joanna jocasta jocelyn joffrey johanna john jojen jommo jon jonah jonnel jonos jonothor jonquil jorah joron jorquen jory joseran joseth joss josua joy joyeuse jurene justin justman jyck k kaeth kandaq karlon karstark karyl kedge kegs kella kenning kermit kettleblack kevan kezmya kindly king king kings kingsblood kingsblood's kingsguard knight knights kurleket kyndall kyra l lad laenor lake lambert lancel langward lanna lannister larence lark larys last laswell leana leathers leek lefford lelia lem lemoncloak lenwood leo leobald leona leonella leonette leslyn lester lew lewyn lewys lharys lia lianna lickspittle lily locke lodos lollys lomys long longbough longleaf longthorpe longwaters lonmouth lonnel loraq loras lorch lord lord loren lorence lorent loreon lorimar lorimer loron lorra lothar lothor lucamore lucas luceon lucifer lucimore lucinda lucion luthor luwin lyanna lyarra lydden lyle lyman lymond lyn lynara lynora lyonce lyonel lysa lythene m mace mad maege maegelle maegon maegor maekar maelor maelys maester maia maid maldon malegorn malleon mallery mallister mallor man mance manderly mandon manfred manfrey manfryd manly marbrand

margaery margaret marghaz margot mariah marillion maris mariya mark marla marlon marna maron marq marqelo marsella marsh martell martyn maryam masha maslyn massey matarys mathis matthar mattheus matthew maz meadows medgar medrick medwick meera megga meha melantha melara meldred melesa melessa melisandre melissa mellario melony melwyn merianne meribald merlon merlyn mern merrell merrett merryweather mervyn meryn mikken milk mina minisa mirri mo mohor mollander mollen monarchs moon moore mooton mopatis mord mordane moreo morgan morgarth morgon mormont moro morrec morrigen morros mors morya moryn mott mounts mullendore mullin mully munda murenmure musgood mya mycah mychel myles myr myranda myrcella myre myriame myrielle mysaria n naerys naggle naharis nan narha night's norbert norcross norjen norman normund norne norren norrey norridge norvos notch noye nute nymeria o o' oak oakenshield oakheart oarsman obara oberyn of old olene olenna ollidar olymer olyvar olyver omer ondrew orbert orkwood ormond ormund orryn orton orys osbert oscar osfryd osha osmund osney osric oswald oswell oswyck oswyn othell otherys othgar otho othor ottyn owen oznak p paege pahl palehair patchface pate pater patrek paul paxter payne peake penny pennytree penrose perceon peremore perianne perkin perra perriane perwyn petyr philip pie piper plummer podrick polliver poole porther pov praed pree prentys prester preston prince

princes promised prudence prunella pryor puckens pyat pycelle pyg pyke pypar q qalen qarl qarlton qhored qhorin qhorwyn qorgyle qotho quaithe quaro queen quellon quenten quentin quenton quentyn quincy qyburn qyle r ragged rakharo ralf rambton ramsay randyll rast raven ravos raya rayder raylon raymont raymun raymund raynald raynard reach red redbeard redfort redpool redwyne reed reference regenard regis regnar renfred renly rennifer reynard reyne reysen rhae rhaegal rhaegar rhaegel rhaella rhaelle rhaenyra rhalla rhea rhogoro ricasso richard rickard rickon rivers rob robar robard robb robert robett robin robyn roderick rodrik rodwell roger rogers rognar rohanne roland rolder rollam rolland rolley rolly rolph romny ronel ronnal ronnel roone roose roote rorge roryn rosamund rosby rose rosey roslin rowan roxton roy royce rufus rupert rus russell ruttiger ryam rycherd ryella ryger ryk rykker rylene ryman rymolf rymond ryswell s saan sabitha salladhor sallei saltcliffe samantha samgood samwell sand sandor sansa santagar sara saranella sargon sarra sarsfield sarya satin sawane scales scarb seastar seaworth sebaston selmond selmy selwyn selyse senelle septon serena serra serry serwyn sevenstreams shadrich shae shaena shagwell sharp she shella shepherd shett shiera shierle shireen shirei shortear shrike shrykos sigfry sigfryd sigorn simon sister sisterton skahaz skinchangers sloane slynt small smallwood smike smiling snow son son soulless sour sparr spicer spotted squire stackspear stafford

stallion stannis stark starvling staunton steffarion steffon stevron stillwood stiv stokeworth stone stonehouse stonetree storm stout strickland strong suggs sumner sunglass surly swann sweet swyft sybell sylas sylvenna sylwa symond syrio t taena tagaros talbert tall talla tallhart tally tanda tanner tarbeck targaryen tarle tarly tarth tawney templeton teora ternesio terys tess that the the theo theodore theomore theon thoren thorne thoros three timeon timotty tion titus tobho todder todric togarion tollett tom tomard tommen torghen torgon torrhen torwyn torwynd tower towers toyne trant tree tregar tristifer triston trystane tully tumitis turnberry turnip tyana tybolt tyene tygett tyler tyrek tyrell tyrion tyrion's tysane tysha tyta tytos tywald tywin u ulf uller umber umfred umma urragon urras urrathon urrigon urron urswyck uther utherydes uthor utt v vaegon vaellyn valaena valerion valiant vance varamyr vardis vargo varly varys vayon velaryon veron vickon victaria victarion victor vikary vines visenya viserra viserys volmark vorian vortimer votyris w waif walda walder walderan waldon walgrave wallace wallen walter walton waltyr walys was waters watt waymar wayn waynwood weaver webber weeper wendamyr wendel westerlands westerling westling wex whalen whent white whittlestick who wick wife wildling will willamen willas willem william willis willow wind wineseller winterfell wode wolves woman woodcock woolfield world woth wulfgar wull wyl wylde wylis wylla wyman wynafrei wynafryd wynch wynton wythers x xaro xho xhoan y yandry yarwyck yew ygon ygritte yohn yorbert yoren yorko youngest yronwood ysabel ysilla z zo zollo

18 notes · View notes