spacial-girl

[spacial-girl]

lol guess i remembered my password-

[spacial-girl]

BLACK LIVES MATTER. YESTERDAY, TODAY AND TOMORROW. @ noturjacky on IG

[spacial-girl]

Janga with the bois

[spacial-girl]

Go on

A persons fanfic tells you a lot about them, i , a fanfic writer, realize in terror

[spacial-girl]

I love this sm

via zaclayton on Instagram

[spacial-girl]

Okay, what we're not going to do folks, is ship ANYONE or write ANYTHING or even praise about Oswald Mosley. He may be fictional in Peaky in some sort of sense and be played by Sam BUT he's a real life disgusting fag of an facist politician who was inspired by Mussolini. If you know who that guy is, who he also inspired and the views it gave that guy. I beg you idc if he's played by Sam bc even he said he wants people to dislike him, hopes ppl see the scary comparison to today. BUT DO NOT MAKE HIM SOME SHIP/FANFIC HERO OR WHATEVER YALL MAKE OF IT.

adding because apparently some can't seem to distinct real vs character but just because you like a faceclaim doesn't mean you can use it for recreational purposes. The character is based on the real person, thus the same. They shouldn't be shipped or written about because of Sam's face, thank you. End of story.

[spacial-girl]

my big problem with peaky blinders is that all the main character development happens off screen between seasons

arthur goes from a violent thug and murderer with awful ptsd and barely a shred of conscience in one episode, to a married man with a god-fearing wife who raises chickens on a farm and doesnt keep a gun on him in the next episode

lizzie gets raped purely as a result of tommy's fucked up plans using her as bait and in the next episode she's working for him and it never gets brought up again but she's also still having sex with him on the reg

grace goes from sneaky spy barmaid and pulling a gun on polly, disappears for a season, then turns up again as a boring housewife four years later

THESE are the character developments and struggles which are interesting. how the fuck did arthur meet linda? how did she change him so much? how did lizzie go from hating tommy to working for him again and presumably forgiving him? what the hell happened to grace to suck her so dry of any character?

i think grace and lizzie can be written off as misogyny and bad writing because they wanted to fridge grace and didnt think lizzie was important. but arthur???? that's arguably the biggest change to any character in the series and as of s4e3 we have had no explanation at all...

edit: wait sorry how did i forget about random feminist lady popping in and letting us all know retroactively that tommy is actually a communist but once again his significant other was fridged for the purposes of him being an arsehole until hes reminded about his beau and decides to do charity work

[spacial-girl]

Could you write something where the reader and Tommy are supposed to have a baby but something happens to the reader and she loses the baby? And when Tommy finds out he kinda breaks down and keeps talking to her abdomen and the reader has to get it into his head that she miscarried. I know it’s very angsty.

I like this idea :o I’ll do my best and getting done as soon as I can!! Thank you!!

[spacial-girl]

Hii, I love your writing! I was wondering if you take requests? 😁

Yep!! Go ahead 💖

[spacial-girl]

It’s Ok, I’m Right Here - Thomas Shelby x Reader

word count 1723

prompt: it's ok i'm right here

setting: end of season 2

Smut: implied at the very end

Proof read: no

edited for mistaked: no

notes: Panic attack! Comfort, fluff, angst. Just wanted a cute comforting fanfic :) Enjoy!

"Fucking asshole," (Y/N) mumbled to herself as she walked home, mud sprayed all over her once blue dress. She was walking back from Epsom Court races, where the Peaky Blinders had taken over for Sabini. Because of her love of horses (and Thomas Shelby), she had agreed to train his horse for the race. 

Shame. The mare didn't even win.

And Thomas was no were to be seen. He had promised her that after all this shit went down, he would take her to celebrate down at the Garrison. Like a fool, she believed him. For a good hour, she waited, until the Coppers left there asked her to leave. She purposefully stepped through puddles, angry at everything. Her dress covered in shit and mud and rainwater- she didn’t care anymore, and she had thrown her umbrella out a good few streets ago, letting it be taken by the wind. (Y/N) let all the anger out through skipping and prancing down the streets- she shouldn't waste time on boys who aren't worthwhile, and who clearly don't care.

She was soaking wet and a madwoman, still dancing through the rainy night in the streets of Small Heath, happy as can be, the anger fading with each step.

It only resurfaced when she made it to the Garrison, hearing all the laughter and cheering indoors. There was a strong chance he'd be there...

(Y/N) turned and made her way down to her apartment. She would not let her anger take hold of her. She could already see herself running in, throwing his drink at him and running out. She let the thought be just a thought, deciding to not waste her energy on him, and let herself in. It wasn't a terrible house. Granted it was nothing compared to the lovely and polished houses in London that she was used to, but she had still turned it into a home filled with plants at every window sill, and as much warmth and colour as she could. She decided to take a nice long bath, washing all the mud, rain and anger out of her skin and letting it drip off her naked body. She smiled in her own reflection, glowing with radiance and grace, before putting on a silk nightgown. She walked through her home, stopping at her gramophone. Delicately, she placed the vinyl down and watched it spin.

Happily, she began swaying and dancing around. She hated the fancy places Thomas would take her to sometimes, dancing until they couldn’t breathe anymore. When they’d pretend to court, and then the nights they’d spend after, alone together. Drinking, talking... The nights in bed...

Ugh! No boys tonight! She had to stop thinking about him! Clearly he didn’t care for her, so why should she waste time on him? No one was going to ruin her night, not even Birmingham's most infamous gangster Thomas Shelby.

Or so she thought.

She was just watering the plants when she heard the crescendo of thundering steps ascending her stairs and frantic thumping at her door. She fearfully grabbed a kitchen knife and made her way to the door.

Here was Birmingham's most infamous gangster Thomas Shelby, with a dazed and scared look on his dirty, tear-stained face.

There went her plans of not letting anyone ruin her night.

"Are you gonna let me in? Or am I supposed to wait out here?" he asked, his heavy breaths making his voice sound airy and quiet. (Y/N) quickly moved out of the way and watched him enter.

Since she had started work at Shelby Company Limited, she had found herself watching Thomas Shelby frequently. She noticed almost daily how confidently he'd stride into the room, shoulders and head high, cigarette lazily dangling from his lips, his cap on, covering his eyes, razors catching lights and shining dangerously- like an animal bearing its teeth. How for a second, the other bookies would quiet and see if he had anything to say, before returning to their work. She loved his cold blue eyes- which had no doubt seen horrors of war, that made her sick to even think about- and how they'd soften for short moments whenever he'd look at her.

Now- he was quite the opposite. He sort of staggered in, like one of the drunks that had called out to her when she danced through the rain. One of his eyes was slowly swelling shut, deep purple and black bruises encircling his eye, and cuts were slowly healing on his skin, dried blood flaking and drying rapidly. An unlit cigarette tumbled to the floor as he steadied himself on her couch. His cap was in his hands, and his hair was ruffled, wet and ragged; his blue eyes searching for calm, hoping his heart would stop racing and his brain would stop screaming at him. He should be dead. He was so sure. He was so ready. Why was he still alive?

"Uhhh... Thomas?" (Y/N)'s voice managed to somehow silence his thoughts and made him snap up to look at her. She had never seen him like this, so a worried expression glazed her features and she slowly walked to him. She reached her hands out to him, and since he seemed not to react she hugged him gently. She gasped at the intensity that he eventually reciprocated. It knocked the wind out of her. The truth was since, he got home from the war, the demons hadn't left him. They'd come out at night and make him relive the memories he thought he'd never have to see again- men being blown up in front of his eyes, flesh rotting on live body parts, guts spilling out of men's stomachs, the sounds of guns, bombshells, screams of pain and agony echoed in his head. He hadn't wanted love or affection from any woman, or person. His ragged breathing turned to soft sobs as he tried to hide from his demons in her shoulder.

"Tommy!" (Y/N) said surprised, now very worried about him. She had never seen him cry. She anxiously bit her lip, hugging him and stroking his short hair, "it's OK, I'm right here," she told him. She could feel his racing heart through his shirt slowly clam under her touch and comfort, "I'm right here Tommy," she repeated.

All the anger she had that wasn't washed out in the rain or tub was completely diminished by now.

They stayed like that for a while, (Y/N) helping him calm down until he couldn't support himself much longer. They sat down on the floor, leaning against her couch. She left for only a moment, grabbing a blanket and setting it on his shoulders, before leaving to the kitchen. She brought him some warm tea, as well as a first aid kit and alcohol. She quietly asked him what had put him in this state. Slowly, he answered. (Y/N) wasn't stupid- she knew there were hundreds of people who would love to see Thomas Shelby injured, or worse. She just didn't think it would be this bad. Her plump lips opened slightly in shock, worry flashing in her eyes. Billy Kimber had given him a good fight, before sending him off. He didn’t let that deter him from boasting to her about how much money they made. He hissed in pain as she finished wiping the blood away from a cut on his eyebrow. His hand wandered up to her face and touched her cheek. She looked at him,

"You left me at the races," she reminded him, noticing he kept glancing at her lips. His tongue traced over his own, and he looked away from her with a sigh,

"I'm very sorry, (Y/N)," he looked at her, a genuine expression on his face, "I... Kimber-”

“It’s fine, Tom,” She cut him off. Her tone was heavily annoyed, and that worried him. She was clearly not fine, bothered by an unfulfilled promise,

“I would have loved to come to take you home-" he replied honestly,

"Even though my dress was covered in mud?" she asked amused. He gave her a soft smile and reached to his jacket pocket, pulling out his cigarettes and lighter,

"Least you don’t have a black eye,” He said, sipping his tea. He watched as a smile graced her lips and she tilted her head in agreement, “John and Arthur said there was talk of you runnin’ through the streets like a madwoman, laughin’ to yourself," this caused her to blush madly with embarrassment, and roll her eyes, "I found that hard to believe at first," she glanced down at him, watching as he rubbed the cigarette on his lips to get it to stick and light it, "then I remembered it was you they were talkin’ about. You always loved the rain,"

"M’mum always said it would make me grow," (Y/N) said, finishing with the cuts and putting everything back in the first aid kit. She looked back at him and blinked through her lashes, "Besides, you pissed me off,"

"Did I now?" he smiled, exhaling smoke and watching her through it. She nodded and moved to stand. He raised his brows, "Well, I've already apologized and I'm here now. I'm yet to earn your forgiveness," she laughed and stood,

“That you are,” she said. taking his empty tea mug in her hands and putting the first aid kit and alcohol away, "If you beg me for forgiveness, on your knee's, and with sincerity, I'd consider it," she meant it as a joke, but as she came back, she found he had moved and was on his knees. She laughed at first, "I was joking!!" (Y/N) clarified, walking to him. But he didn't move. His expression didn't change apart from the quirk of his eyebrows,

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N), I ask for your forgiveness for leaving you in the mud while I was almost murdered," he said, making her chuckle and shake her head,

"Don't joke about dying, ok?" She asked seriously, leaning her head down. She removed the cigarette from his lips and touched his face. Their lips met, and he found his arms on hers, holding her in place.

They soon parted and smiled at each other like goofy idiots, "Apology accepted, Thomas," she said as she took a drag of the cigarette and placed it back in his lips. He grinned at her and stood, gladly following her as she grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into her room.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fluff #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby fanfiction #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby angst #tom shelby #tom shelby x reader #peaky #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder #PEAKY FOOKIN BLINDERS #peaky blinders x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #fanfiction #peaky blinder fanfic #fanfic #angst #fluff

[spacial-girl]

i don’t think people really get how little feedback fanfic authors actually get? like the effort to reaction ratio is so abysmally skewed here that a fic nearly 50,000 words long takes an entire year to amass like. 16 comments. someone reblogged a fic i wrote at 4 am and tagged it with a 5-word compliment and i can’t stop thinking about it, not because it was so nice but because half the time you post a fic you’re going to hear nothing and anything feels like so much

fandom culture is so, so good about giving artists the credit they’re due, but we gotta start doing that for writers too. you’ve got no idea how much people put into their stories and get maybe a handful of reblogs and a dozen-odd kudos. that’s not enough. writing is an endurance sport and y’all need to start giving fic writers a reason to endure it and improve their craft. encourage writers like you encourage artists. reblog fics, leave tags, leave comments, acknowledge that these stories do not just spring into being for your entertainment. 

every single damn writer i know feels like half of their readers see them as a machine. that’s gotta change. 

[spacial-girl]

A school of fish following a duck

[spacial-girl]

“It’s Tommy Shelby against the whole bloody world, right?”

[spacial-girl]

[spacial-girl]

Till Death Do Us Part - Thomas Shelby x Reader

setting: season 3

word count: 2535

smut: no

proofread: no

edited: no

notes: 3rd person! More from Tommy's perspective- involves death, death by illness, swearing, angst, sadness, it's sad. I started writing this before quarentine begun/lockdowns ensued and this was the only fanfic I really liked out of the drafts I’m unsure of posting. But it’s better than nothing I suppose! It's pretty unfortunate the times we live in now- while in quarantine I've started a number of chapters I have to finish edit still- I'll try to post them as soon as I can. But wow!! I hit 1k reads (on wattpad)! This is amazing! Thank you so much for reading and enjoying my writing! I love you all :)

"Thomas," Micheal was out of breath, coughing and spluttering as he doubled over, his cap pulled from his head and clutched in his hands. He had run with such urgency and intensity that his lungs burned- like the first time he smoked a cigarette. He took deep gulps and breathed heavily, feeling his mothers comforting hand rubbing his back to help him breathe. He straightened, still gasping for air as his older cousins eyes met his. There was blood on his face- a cut on his cheek just under his eye with some purple swelling, as well as splattered on his face, clearly from the almost corpse sitting in the chair in front of him, "It's happening," he choked,

"What is?" Thomas asked. There were few things that scared Thomas Shelby, king of Birmingham,  nowadays and one of them was not knowing things. When his answer didn't immediately make an obvious connection to anything happening around him at the moment, his heart begun to thump in his chest and ears. He almost couldn't hear Micheal over the drumming,

"She's... Got really bad Tom," his words were airy and breathy, but stress laced them together, "Worried 'bout you-"

"What did you fuckin' tell her!?" Fear and rage overtook him, the clatter of the razor he used to threaten the man on the chair echoed through the halls of the basement they were in, blood splattering off it,

"I said nothin'!" Micheal yelled back, the same emotions filling him as his cousin begun to walk towards him, his face darkening, "She... She was sayin' she ain't seen you in ages. That she's worried 'bout you and what's happenin' to you. I tried... I tried to tell 'er you were doin' your business but she started cryin' Tom. Proper sobbin'. Heartbroken. Then she started coughin' up blood," He shook his head; Thomas noticed his eyes squeezing shut as if the image flashed before his eyes, "A-and she said she couldn't breathe, so I called the doctor in. Your telephone wires are down and I couldn't phone you," He quickly informed as Thomas took a sharp inhale. He closed his mouth, his lips in a tight scowl, "I dunno how she is now, but you should-" Tom grabbed his blazer from the hook he had discarded it on and was already striding past Micheal,

"Arthur, clean up the fuckin' body," He could feel his hands beginning to shake as he ran up the stairs and out the door of Small Heath. He slammed the door to his car and drove out of the shithole he once called his home. The overwhelming urge to smoke filled him, and he cursed under his breath. This all had to coincide in the worst way possible. Not only did he have to deal with the damn Russians, his brothers not listening to him, but also his wife's illness.

And he had to hide all his problems from her, and stay strong.

He parked the car in front of Arrow house and flung the door open, his footsteps thundering through the extravagant home in desperation to get up to her room. It pained him to call their bedroom that but it was true- she was trapped inside the room in fear she would get worse, and he hardly ever slept nowadays, feeling like they were always watching him, studying his every move. Perhaps why he was fueled by rage. He pushed past the doctor and reached for the door to her room when he felt an arm on his shoulder. It took him all the strength he could muster to not turn and punch him,

"Mr Shelby-" His voice was wavering, clearly in fear at the enraged man before him, "Mr Shelby, could I please ask you to calm down before seeing her?" His tone changed to quiet, and Tom sighed, his tense shoulders only dropping by a bit. He wasn't entirely calm, but when it came to his wife, he would bend heaven and earth to make sure she was alright. He sighed and turned to the doctor,  looking down so the peak of his cap covered his eyes,

"What happened?" He demanded, his voice a low growl. The doctor visibly shaking, let out a breath and gulped,

"W-Well, Mr Shelby, Mr Micheal called me in saying your wife couldn't breathe and was coughing up blood," He explained, "I... Her influenza- her sickness-"

"Y'don't have to speak to me like I'm a fuckin' imbecile," Tom snapped, before sighing, "Get on with it,"

"Yes! Her uh, influenza, developed into something worse. Tuberculosis, it looks like. She's also incredibly weak- she can hardly breathe. I," his voice shook again, "I don't know how long she has left Mr Shelby," The doctor bowed his head, fearing for his own life. A drop of sweat rolled down his head, and Thomas sighed, putting his hand on the door handle and opening it. He lifted his head and met her eyes.

There were heavy bags under them, their usual (Y/E/C) hue was barely visible under the hooded lids, and the corners were wet. Her skin was a sickly pale green, and her lips were pale. Her legs were covered by the bedsheets, which had drops of blood speckled on them in a horrifying way that caused his heart to pound. The blood trailed up on her nightclothes and caused her neck and chin to hold a red hue. She already looked like a corpse.

But when she saw him, it was like she came back to life. Her lips curled up and for a brief moment she sat up straighter, clearly trying to show she had some strength. But he saw how her smile turned to a painful grimace and a sigh escaped her lips, unable to hold herself up. He watched as she fell back against the pillows and squeezed her eyes shut. He took quick, long strides and got to her bedside just as her eyes opened,

"Thomas," Her voice sent shivers up his spine, and he felt his skin crawl. He couldn't hear the beauty of her full voice- it was only reduced to a broken, hoarse whisper. Delicately, he sat next to her, taking her porcelain hand in his own. His heart thudded in his ears; it was cold and heavy in his own, "I'm," She swallowed, causing him to look at her face, "I'm glad you're home," She rasped, "How was your day?"

"(Y/N), you look terrible," His voice, for once, betrayed him. Thomas stared into deaths eyes and spat in its face, walked away from a war that lingered on in his head, cut out eyes, tongues and ears. But when he stared into the eyes of his dying wife, he felt unimaginable fear. Tears rapidly spilt down his cheeks. Her face looked shocked and he felt her hands twitch in his own. She wanted to wipe his face clean of the remorse and guilt that rippled through him. He leaned closer to her, his head touching her thin shoulder and his body shaking with sobs.

"Thomas!" Her gentle voice brought him out of a horrifying nightmare. He wildly looked around, heaving as he sat up. Her soft hands wrapped themselves around his shaking shoulders, "Thomas, calm down! It was just a nightmare," She reassured him. Her hair tickled his bare skin as his mind adjusted to what happened. He sighed, burying his face in his hands,

"For fuck's sake," He hissed,

"Tommy- it's okay," Her calming voice slowed his heart. His head snapped up to look at her as she yawned. She shook her head slightly, and smiled tiredly, "Thomas, it's alright-"

"I woke you up,"

"I don't care,"

"But you're tired-"

"So are you," He huffed at her stubbornness, rolling his eyes and straightening, letting himself fall back on the pillows. Her teeth flashed white, catching the moonlight in the darkness. She was proud of herself, winning against a Shelby in as simple as a disagreement like this meant everything to her. His own lips curved up into a smile and he looked away from her, shaking his head,

"(Y/N)," he hummed,

"What?" she asked innocently,

"I know you're tired. You shouldn't have to get up like this, in the middle of the night," he said seriously,

"Tom, looking after the kids is-"

"Exhausting?" He smiled. He watched her throw her head back and huffed, hiding her smile baldly,

"No," He raised his brows, "Not always," He shook his head, "Besides, I like lookin' after 'em. They're cute," She smiled, "And I don't work as hard as you. I don't even get to see you- that's how hard you work," she watched his expression change. He wouldn't meet your eyes after. He seemed transfixed by the night sky glittering outside, "Tom?" He looked at her but quickly averted his gaze quickly. A sigh left his lips,

"I don't deserve you, (Y/N). I really don't," Is all he said, giving her a genuine smile. She crawled into his arms then, and he held her tightly. She was the only one keeping him sane at this point. You looked after everything- him, his children, their children. She was more a mother to them than he was a father, and he couldn't have asked for more.

It broke his heart to watch the light leave her, and he could physically ripping apart as he realised he was powerless.

"Thomas," her voice had only a slither of life left in it.  His eyes were bloodshot as he looked at her, but looked away quickly. A sigh left her pale lips, and out of the corner of his eye, he watched her lifting a hand up. It shook and wavered unsteadily, and he readied himself for her cold pale hand to touch his skin. Instead, she swiped the peaked cap off his eyes, carefully of the blades, and set it down on the bed, "Couldn't see your eyes,"

He shivered and shut his eyes as she did, leaning into her cold but loving touch. He felt her hands while the wetness of his cheek, tracing his cheekbones delicately. The fear built up more and more- it felt like feathers were gliding along his cheeks, causing more tears to spill from his eyes. When they made eye contact again, he could see the candle in her eyes flickering in a gale of harrowing winds; his own reflected pain and hurt. And while her body ached and she barely breathed, she smiled, "Terrible isn't a compliment," And she still joked. The pain in his heart grew and grew by the seconds he shared with her, and he doubled over, head falling in her lap and body racking with sobs.

Perhaps if he had fucking listened to her, she wouldn't be here. Stuck at home for almost a whole year, unable to leave in fear of worsening her illness. No one suspected it'd be this dangerous at first- they all thought it was a common cold. Tom was the first to realise she wasn't getting better,

"(Y/N)?" He asked, worry lacing his voice. She gasped, spinning around and a grin spreading across her painted red lips. No one ever visited anymore, and he reminded her time and time again she didn't have to wear makeup to impress him. But she felt beautiful,

"Thoma!" She exclaimed, watching expectantly as he climbed up the stairs to meet her, "Thought you weren't coming back till tomorrow?" her voice was so full of joy, but he could tell she was tired,

"Change of plans," He placed a hand on her back when she pulled away, planting a kiss to her cheek and inhaling her sweet lavender scent, "You look tired,"

"Tired isn't a compliment, Tom," She laughed, walking up the stairs with him. Goddamn it. She was too good at that- hiding her true feelings. And it bothered him but deep down, he couldn't say anything. He wasn't exactly the most open man himself. Her laughs, however, soon broke into coughs and wheeze, "Happens every time I try and walk the stairs," she choked out.

He picked her up and carried her the rest of the way to their room, setting her on the bed. And, while entangled in kisses and moans he so foolishly fell into, he forgot. He fucking forgot.

Her choking caused him to sit up. Her hands filled with blood sh desperately tried to stop spilling from her mouth and onto his expensive suit, but to no avail. Speckles littered the white material, and his eyes widened. It was haunting.

He quickly reached and grabbed an already blood-soaked handkerchief from the bedside table, watching her choke on her own blood. Once she finished, he took the cloth from her, setting it back on the table and grabbing her hand again. He leaned in and kissed her head, his forehead pressed to her own. His thumb swiped the corner of her lip, whipping the blood away. Their eyes met, full of pain, longing and love,

"Tommy," There was no distinction between her whispering and her normal tone anymore, the privacy eliminated, "Thomas Shelby, I really do love you," she said. He felt her hands on his cheeks again, caressing his skin,

"(Y/N) it's all my fucking fault," He said, "I should have been there for you-"

"You were busy-"

"I could have taken a fucking break to be with you," He said sternly, "I'm not going to let you sit there and make excuses for me-"

"So you'll just sit there and let me die?" He hated her bluntness. And he hated her honesty. But most importantly, he hated that she had given up. And he hated the confirmation she gave him. He tightened the grip on his shoulder, wanting so desperately to ground her and not let her leave him. He didn't want to accept this reality, "Thomas," He shook his head, "Tom," Her voice cracked, and so did his heart, "Tom,  do you love me?"

"Yes," He whispered, pulling away to see her face. A smile tugged on her lips, ""I do love you, (Y/N)," He confirmed. Panic filled him as she closed her eyes, "I'm not letting you die,"

Every sentence that left Tommy's lips was carefully calculated, learning during the war to think ahead and plan everything to the finest detail. So it shocked them both when he suddenly blurted it out. She opened her eyes as wide as she could, before smiling and moving her head slightly,

"Tom, you're not letting me. This isn't you decide to make," She said, her eyes drifting closed once again, "My death is inevitable, as if yours, as is Charlie's, as is Ruby's, as is Polly's, as is Arth-"

"It shouldn't fucking be," He grumbled, "You shouldn't be... Dying,"

One last smile, "My my," she sighed deeply, humming, "I've lived long enough to see something I never thought could happen," she mumbled, her already weak tone fading rapidly, "To see something not go as Thomas Shelby had planned,"

Her breathing faded, and her slow movements halted. Thomas stopped functioning for a moment, desperately hoping this was a joke she was pulling on him. As he pressed a hand to her chest, his broken sobs filled his silent room.

She was gone. She was really gone.

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder #peaky blinders x reader #PEAKY FOOKIN BLINDERS #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby angst #Tommy Shelby #tom shelby #tom shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #angst #tommy shelby angst #sad

[spacial-girl]

hoping for the best :)

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

[spacial-girl]

thomas shelby is the ultimate 20th century goth 

Proof that Tommy Shelby is the one true edgelord / a 19th century poet / an absolute drama queen:

is a goth

shaved sides

“already broken”

cheekbones

always has a bleeding face

romanticised Grace to the point that he couldn’t tell she was a spy even though it was so fucking obvious

had a communist phase

“and that’s why you should never pretend to be me”

Believes in magic & plans crime around the phases of the moon

cute date idea: take her into a dimly lit church and expose all her LIES”

has to say “…there is a very important reason why i am employing you” before he kisses her and then looks really fuckin sad when she says “you disappoint me”

“I think so you don’t have to”

signs his letters with stuff like “I have always learned to hate my enemies, but I have never loved one before”

likes animals more than people

has “in the bleak midwinter” as a catch phrase

lurks in alleyways so that he can mock people

calls his horse fuckinn “GRACES SECRET” omg

consciously participates in acting mysterious “I rarely answer questions is what I do.”

finds out that he might die so goes around hinting that he might die to all his family

sick death speech in which he announces his love for Grace in front of total strangers -he probably wrote it out before hand

probably has thoughts like “hark! there is bloodeth on my hand!”

poetic torture threats 

kills his friends on windy beaches

an actual thing he said “and idc cus i’m already dead”

did the whole stayed by her side until she dies routine

existential crisises all the time

always putting his head down on the table / in his hands

stares at fire

- probably Arsonist’s Lullaby is his favourite song

gets offended when people insult his fashion

recreated A Nightmare Before Christmas in his kitchen

what more can i give you his gin label literally says “Distilled for the eradication of seemingly incurable sadness”