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[apeakyfuckinblinder]

He said it was God’s will, but you’re not God.

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But I warn you, it’ll break your heart.

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I don’t know how you felt about him, how bad this is gonna hurt but whatever happens, just remember you’ve got a baby inside of you.

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I need you to be alright. I need you.

(post in screencap form)

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Sad thing is they’re all from season one

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First impressions of John on Michael :)

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Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Just a mere few minutes later, Tommy awoke, after suffering another nightmare. The flashbacks of what happened just days before. The shovels against the mud, coming closer. His head spun like yarns of wool. A great migraine filled his head, spitting itself into every crevice, spreading itself to his body, too. Since he woke up after the accident, he hadn’t felt the pain. Now it was coming all but at once, as though it held itself back to give him time to adjust. Feeling pain all at once is worse than feeling it day to day, like everyone else does. Not Tommy. The pain is too great.

Lightning strikes of agony spread through his body like a swarm of angered wasps inside of him. He couldn’t help but let out a cry. Freddie was the only one to wake up to this. 

“You okay, Tom. I know it hurts,” Freddie empathised. 

“I’m sorry about your opium, brother,” Tom worried, a genuine worry. 

“It’s okay, Tommy. I understand.”

“I don’t, though.” 

“What do you mean, Tom?”

“I haven’t seen Greta since I last took opium, and that was before we even left England. It’s never happened without. When you offered it, me brain told me it was a bomb, or a razor. I smacked it away in fear. In fear, Freddie. What is wrong with me? You’ve never seen me scared.”

“Tom, don’t be angry with me…”

“What, Freddie?”

“When you were unconscious, I poured some opium down your throat. I didn’t know whether you were going to make it. I didn’t want your last memory to be of pain.” Thomas ignored Freddie’s request to stay calm, lunging towards him, hands around Freddie’s throat. He was the cause of the immense pain he felt, the cause of his sighting, the reason he’s like this now. The other comrades woke up to this, pulling Tommy off him, and pinning his arms and legs on the ground. He was breathing heavily and fast. 

It appeared the trauma hit Tommy like a collapsed tunnel. He shook, his whole body this time. His blue eyes were wide so the boys could see the white behind them. 

“They’re coming, they’re coming,” Tommy shouted, petrified with fear. 

“It’s okay, Tom. We’ve been here weeks; they think we’re dead. They’re not coming back,” Arthur explained. 

“No, Arthur, they’re coming. I can feel it. We need to get out of here. We need to dig back up to the resort.” He pulled the hands off his hands, and sat up, starting to crawl to his shovel.

“No, Tom, you need to rest.”

“I’m the best kicker here, I have to. We don’t have enough time to procrastinate.” He picked his shovel up and began to dig against the mud, the direction they came from.

“Tom, it’s not safe, it’s collapsed,” Jeremiah explained.

“Make it safe, Jeremiah, and I’ll go on,” Tommy demanded, continuing to dig with too much effort, with too little results. He hardly breathed, and scrunched his face to stop the pain in the head.

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Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Slowly, Tom regained consciousness, drifting in and out. His comrades rushed over to him, to show him they hadn’t left. He felt everything, as though everything he’d ever experienced was nothing compared to the terror. And he couldn’t even leave 

“Are we in heaven?” Tommy asked, taking slow, deep breaths through his mouth as he breathed. 

“More like fucking ‘ell, eh Tom?” Freddie smiled. The relationship between Fred and Tommy had not been the greatest, but the expression on Freddie’s face was a genuine exclamation of relief that he had survived, not only because he was in charge of the group, but because they had been friends and foes since childhood. 

“You okay, Tom?” Arthur asked, still weeping with worry for his kid brother.

“Don’t worry about me, brother. I’ll be fine.” Thomas tried to sit up, but was pushed down by his comrades.

“You need rest, Tom,” Danny explained. “It’s okay, we’ll send a message to the Colonel that we may take more time than expected. A couple more days, and we’ll keep pushing.”

“How long have I been out?” Thomas asked, the words struggling to tumble out of his traumatised face, speaking as he breathed out. 

“Three days, I reckon. Though, we can never know for certain down here.” Words fell out of Arthur’s mouth before he had a chance to think about them. Tom was a determined man, a businessman back in England, staying in a tunnel for days, weeks, making no progress wasn’t his idea of productivity. Arthur noticed what he said, and he knew Tom’s response would be either violent, or at least, disagreeable. He continued anyway. “But Tom, it doesn’t matter how long we’re down here. Whether we’re here for another three months waiting for you, or if we are by the end of the week. I’m sure we can make it a few more days, at least. I can’t lose you. I can’t. it’s more important that you get better, so we can push on.”

“Me neither, you’re me brother. A simple case of determination, I’m not letting that take my brother. It already killed our mother,” John said, under his breath. His whole life, John was the younger brother, the forgotten one. The one everyone assumed was weak. His outburst of emotion was unexpected, and John was cautious it would be the cause of judgement.

The Shelby brothers’ mother had killed herself not long after giving birth to the youngest Shelby son, Finn, who was too young to fight in France. She drowned herself in the canal. Their grandfather died the same way. Uncle Charlie says it runs in the family. In the Shelby blood. Sometimes Tommy thinks it would be easier to dispatch himself. His sister, Ada, and the love of Aunt Polly always stopped him. 

The boys expected Tommy’s response to be the cause of someone else’s injury. But this did not happen. Tommy did not move, until he did. 

Thomas’ eyes darted to the tunnel in front of him. His past girlfriend, Greta, had died just before his boat to France. He hadn’t seen her spirit since, but her Gypsy spirit travelled there to be with him; to comfort him.

“Greta?” 

“It’s okay, Thomas. It’s okay to let go. It’s easy, fast, then the pain will be gone, even the pain in your head,” Greta told him. 

 “I can’t Greta. The company, the family. I can’t. Not now. Pol, Arthur, John, Finn, I couldn’t. I couldn’t die knowing I would never see them again.”

“You okay, Tom?” asked John. Tommy sat up, and pushed uneasily the hands of Jeremiah and Freddie who tried to stop him. Thomas struggled along a few feet, slightly bringing himself away from the others. He sat with his knees half up, his elbows resting against them, his hands cupping his sunken eyes. 

“Why did you go, Greta?” Tommy whispered; eyes wide open as if they had never shut. They hadn’t, really. Not since France. “Why did you have to go.” Tommy sat at her bedside for months before she passed. When she did, he left for France just a few months after. Thomas was not a man of religion, but loved and trusted Greta so much he would do anything for her. And he did, he even signed up to the BSA Union and even the Birmingham Communist group. Two groups he did not believe had the best interests of the country. Thomas believed religious was a foolish answer to a foolish question. He did it for her. To make her happy. Tommy recalled this as he looked into Greta’s eyes in front of him. 

Tom’s hands began to shake nervously, uncontrollably. They had done since he killed the first man. Shook continuously. But never like this, as though he had not seen light before. Shook like the hand of a normal man, not a gangster, or a soldier. 

“Tom, you okay? You’re frightening me,” Arthur worried. Arthur always worried when it came to family. 

“Brother, I know it’s been difficult since Greta, but she’s in the past. We can never move on unless we help each other out. it’s like with Martha, Tom. They’re just, gone. But we can’t help you unless you talk. You need to let us in sometimes, in your head,” John explained. He thought it would be comforting, but Tommy did not reply, as if he hadn’t even heard him. Possibly he hadn’t, Greta still talking to him. Or the other voice who always whispered. Perhaps Tommy was listening to that. or the sound of the shovels he could still hear. Whether they were real, or in his head, he had to listen. 

Freddie took over, “Look, Tom. I was going to have this meself, if one of us passed. But you can have it. Smuggled it past the officers. Opium, for the pain in the ‘ead.” He opened his pocket hesitantly, and passed a small glass with a liquid inside to Tommy, holding it out for him to take. Thomas sighed and slapped it against the floor. Not with rage. No. He hadn’t drank or eaten in days, yet his response was justified to him. The glass shattered against the floor and liquid opium spilled across the mud, sinking into it, as though it was trying to escape. “Tom, that’s me own stuff. I gave it to-“ he was interrupted by the man to his left, speaking as he breathed in. 

“No, Freddie. You don’t understand. The opium makes it worse. It brings her here,” Tommy said, looking straight into the insides of Freddie’s eyes. 

Tommy’s eyes shut, and he collapsed asleep to the floor. Exhaustion filled his body like the Mustard gas likely filling the air and his lungs. This was unprecedented. He had slept little since Greta left, and even less since France. In fact, the boys couldn’t remember the last time he rested. 

“Common, lads, maybe we should get some rest too,” Danny suggested. “Sorry about the opium, Fred.” 

“It’s okay, Jeremiah. I get it,” Freddie replied. 

Jeremiah agreed, “We need to pray for Tommy. He’s struggling more than you think.”

        Dear Thomas We’re still very worried. We still haven’t heard from you in weeks. The officer still hasn’t seen you since your last dispatch underground. We are praying for you and the boys, and the girls in the church are too. We hope to see you soon and I'd love to hear from you, as you still haven’t replied to any of my letters. If you and the boys are in trouble, we hope for the best and would like to see you back in England.          All My Love Aunt Polly 

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Chapter One

Chapter One

Distant cries and screams resulted in wide eyes among the bodies, buried alive under the fields of France. No bullets left in their guns, the sound of shovels, coming closer, closer, closer. Every day went by, the boys becoming weaker as the shovels of the enemy became closer. They could not dig any further, for fear of running into the Triple Alliance, as the cries became louder, and the bullets and shells above their heads came closer as Britain gave up territory. Daniel Owen’s eyes held themselves wide as though they were held open by fishhooks. They were empty, the thousands of bodies he’d already seen, the hundreds of men he’d seen die in front of his very eyes, the other hundreds of men he’d killed himself, whether by his own red hands, or by the loud scream of their shooting Rifle.

Jeremiah, Small Heath’s preacher, suggested they sang to pass the time. As the boys sang ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’, John comforted Arthur as tears streamed down his cheek. Arthur was needed back home, and the boys were beginning to worry they would never return to England. Thomas proposed a thought that if they survived this, and more optimistically, if they lived long enough to return home to the broken town of Birmingham, they would take life as it comes, and with that, take death as it comes. And with that, they agreed that when each other died, they would speak ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’ over their body.

Dear Thomas

It’s been weird without you and the boys here. i’ve already written to John and Arthur, who have replied to me already. They instructed me not to write to you, but I could not resist. Things are okay at home, but it’s strange being in the Garrison. Harry is allowing women to buy drinks on their own, but it’s different without the young men who are always there. You don’t have to reply, but it would mean something,

We’re worried about Arthur. You know how he tried to kill himself a while back, look after him. Look afterJohn, he’s got the kids waiting for him back in Birmingham. We’ve all done our bit to look after them, but Johns been different since Martha passed. 

But most of all, look after yourself, Tom. Because you never do, and without you, they’ll tumble. 

        All my love

Polly Shelby (Elizabeth Gray)

The hole in which they entered the tunnel collapsed behind them, so there was no return. The boys were weak, dehydrated, shell-shocked, and beginning to starve. The dust, dirt, mud, was all in their lungs as they struggled not to make a noise. In the tunnels, a small cry could be head by the enemy, let alone a cough or the mud scraping against the back of their throats. 

The shovels began to come closer, frighteningly close now, the whispers of German slurs coming from the same direction, coming closer. Now they could distinctly hear the voices of men close enough now they could hear their breath. Meters away. A few picks of the shovel against the wet and dangerous mud of the French earth, and the comrades would be compost in the soil.

“I’ll go in front,” Thomas explained, crawly silently around John and Freddie. 

“Be careful, Tom,” Freddie pleaded. 

“Yeah, careful Tom,” Arthur agreed, patting Sergeant Shelby on the back as an assurance of his trust. 

The dark smudges across his face and under his eyes showed he didn’t care if he was shot dead in that moment, the voices in his head, the voices across a mere few feet of mud. All Thomas could imagine was the agony and sorrow of his pain. The pain in his body, and he the pain in his head, more importantly. 

And in that moment, the final shovel erected valiantly through the soft clay, and the battle began. The enemy most certainly had the upper hand, the bullets in their guns and knives in their hands there in place of the ones in the boys’. 

The man who entered first showed no mercy in the eye contact he made with Thomas before he shot him in the stomach. Point-blank, the blow sending Thomas falling onto Daniel, who cradled his head to protect it from further injury. The man in question proceeded to withdraw a long piece of glass from under his coat, and projected it into Thomas’ chest, 1,2,3,4 times over. Blood poured out like a broken bottle of rum. Everything went numb. He couldn’t feel anything but his heart beat slowing down rapidly in his chest. Then he felt everything, all at once. Every drop of blood that left his body felt like ten more. Every breath he took was yet another stab wound to the heart. 

In anger and disgust, John and Arthur, Tom’s own brothers, crawled with readiness past Danny and their brother, strangling to death each man who stood in their way. Danny, Jeremiah and Freddie dragged Tom back to stop further injury, the track of blood following him.  Blocking the tunnel behind and in front with the dead corpses to buy them time. 

Thomas screamed in agony, a blood- curdling scream, one misunderstood at the picture house and in plays. As the screams and the breathing became further spaced out, and the tension he held against his body to stop the pain relaxed, the boys became increasingly worried, Tommy’s muddy, sunken face becoming grey. His eyes shut, the tight grip he held against the clay becoming loose. “Fuck,” exclaimed Arthur, assisting the boys in taking Thomas’ above-waist clothing from his loose body. 

As tears streamed down his face, both Thomas’ and Arthur’s, John pushed him away, “Arthur, you’re not in your right mind. Sit back, have a rest. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay, Arthur.” Arthur nodded and cradled his head in his hands.

First, they put masses of great pressure on the four stab wounds, while Jeremiah used the blades from their caps to rip the bullet from his stomach. John dug deep into his rucksack to find the bandages the officer gave him. They all agreed to save them for a true emergency, which this most certainly was. 

“Sit ‘im up,” he said, gesturing for his comrades to help him. When they did this, John wrapped the bandages tightly around him as though he were a mummy prepared for afterlife, which Thomas was. 

         Dear Thomas,

Tom, you haven’t replied in weeks. Neither had John or Arthur. I even sent a letter to your superior officer. they haven’t hear from you in weeks. They think your tunnel collapsed. We’re worried sick. I really hope your okay. Myself, Ada, Johnny, Curly, Harry, Lizzie, We all miss you. We all hope you’re okay. Kittie (Greta’s suster) has also been worried sick. I know you never got along the best but she misses you, too. she’s struggling, Tom. With Greta gone, half of Birmingham at War, including her husband, who’s she’s just been informed has passed, she has sought help from the BSA factory. Tom, nothing goes on in the factory without you knowing. about it, so I think i t important to tell you. I know you always advocate gender equality at work, but she’s even building automobiles. Hope you’re well, we’re praying for you. We’re very worried so hope to hear from you very soon.All my love

Polly Gray

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Who is Tommy Shelby

Thomas Michael Shelby held himself accountable for his actions. He held his head high as though it were a stacked bookshelf in a quiet library.

Who is Thomas Shelby?

Before Thomas, Arthur and John Shelby, Jeremiah, Freddie Thorne, and Daniel Owens joined the Great War effort, Thomas, a sickening, murderous, cut-throat Romani Gypsy, from a gangster group who named themselves the Peaky Blinders, dreamed of one day building a respectable business, which later becomes Shelby Company Limited. Tom wished of working with horses on the race tracks, and becoming legitimate. However, before the war, his older brother, Arthur Shelby led the family, and was in charge of making money through bookmaking. After France, Tommy and Arthur agreed he would be in charge or making new money, which begins the Peaky Blinders BBC series. 

Thomas laughed, a lot before the war, according to Elizabeth Gray, more commonly referred to as Polly Shelby. He smiled, and through conversations between Tommy and John, he used to do impressions to his younger brother when they were children.

The day the war broke out, the Shelby brothers were intrigued, suffocated with a swarm of nationalism bringing themselves to the registry office, where themselves, Jeremiah, Danny, and Freddie signed up graciously for the war effort. 

Thomas’ girlfriend, Greta, was ill before the war. He sat at her bedside every day until her death. A couple months later, war broke out, and Sergeant Thomas Shelby was bound for France. 

Thomas Michael Shelby became a graceful Sergeant Major, leading himself and his friends to join the war effort. According to Danny, they volunteered to become clay-kickers, tunnellers. They were in charge of digging under enemy territory to lay bombs and land-mines. 

There are some references to Barney, who was a sniper and a friend of the brothers before the entered the tunnels, when they were in the trenches. He is presented as severely insane and shell-shocked.

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Red Right Hand

I’ve been working on a prequel to the popular BBC show Peaky Blinders. It follows Tommy, Arthur, John, Jeremiah, Danny Wizbang, and Freddie Thorne as they fight in the tunnels in France. Look out for the introduction soon. :)