𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙶𝚁𝙾𝙾𝙼.

                                                               @carnagewed

This is wrong, he knew this was wrong- but somewhere along the line, the voice in his head that once screamed out to refrain began to slip away. Where, or why, he wasn’t entirely sure- the passage of time seeming to take the parts of the man he once was. Like a painting, worn and weathered in time, the visions of his past life grew faded at the edges, cracked and tarnished beyond recognition. Something he tried to deny- to come to terms with the acceptance of his newfound life. Yet at times like this, it was almost all too easy to confess. He couldn’t remember the faces of his family, wife and child, now nothing more than Rorschach spots- black inky nothing behind his eyes. Acceptance, in knowing there was no returning to the person that once was.

Where once, shame might have encompassed his being, now only pleasure would follow suit. To think once he might have fought away his advances, felt ashamed in the act of loving another. Day by day, the notion faded away, his name, his role, coming easier now as he’d submit to his touch. Gluskin’s bride- his pretty little wife. The titles and names felt familiar now, as did the touch of his groom, the longer the nights went on. Once the dress was pulled away, and flesh lay bare before him- how his heart would leap at the sight of his lover before him. His towering frame, such contrast to his own, feeling smaller, delicate beneath him, as lips would claim what was rightfully his. A hand would come to stroke through his dark hair, quietly admiring the further he ventured down. It would be a lie to say he didn’t crave his touch, his body trembling in pleasure, the longer he’d linger south. 

“Eddie-” his name fell softly from his lips, desire reflecting in the soft tremble of his voice. His hips would move, his lower back arching from where he lay beneath him, the self control within him dying out as he’d submit to him in that moment, chasing the sensation of his lips. Fingers would settle at the nape of his neck, giving a firm, loving squeeze, as if it might convince him to stop and reflect on where affection could lead. When in truth? He didn't want him to pause, nor pull away. Logic would fall away for pure desire- for in that moment? all he wanted was him.

"Don't stop-"

requested by my bestie 

WORDS: 

“  is that your blood?  ”

“  woah—  hold up you’re bleeding.  ”

“  your bandages— you’re bleeding through them.  ”

“  shit,  i think i pulled my stitches.  ”

“  i’ll make them bleed for this.  ”

“  a little blood never never hurt anyone.  ”

“  why the fuck is there blood on the carpet?  ”

“  your nose is bleeding.  ”

“  you can make me bleed all you want,  i’ll never scream for you.  ”

“  you don’t understand,  i had to do it.  i had to kill them.  ”

“  stop fussing— this isn’t my blood.  ”

“  i did what was necessary.  ”

“  why are you bleeding?  what happened?  ”

“  who hurt you?  why is there blood all over you?  ”

“  i think you’ll look quite pretty when you bleed.  ”

“  who did you kill?  whose blood is that?  ”

“  i’m not usually a sadistic sort of person,  but i will take pleasure in spilling your blood.  ”

“  i don’t actually enjoy killing.  it’s messy.  the blood gets everywhere.  it’s just necessary sometimes.  ”

“  it looked kind of beautiful in a fucked up sort of way.  blood on snow.  the kind of thing you usually only see in stories.  ” 

“  i can’t get it off—  i can still feel it on me!  ”

“  just calm down.  breathe.  i’ll take care of this.  ”

“  hold still— you’ve got blood on your face.  ”

“  why is there blood on your knife?  ”

“  oh,  it’s just a little bit of blood.  don’t nutsack out.  ”

“  i’m going to drain every ounce of your blood.  nice and slow.  like you deserve.  ”  

“  i’ll kill anyone who ever makes you bleed again.  ”

“  your/their blood is just too pretty to keep inside.  ”

“  there’s something fascinating about blood.  it’s captivating. ”

“  blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb.  ”

“  you made me bleed on my shirt—  i fucking loved this shirt!  ”

“  leave me alone,  it’s shark week and i got blood on my sheets.  ”

“  should i be concerned about why there’s blood in the sink?  ”

“  do i ask questions or do i just help you clean up all this blood?  ”

ACTIONS: 

[ ALONE ]  for sender to show up on receiver’s doorstep covered in blood. 

[ ARRIVE ] for receiver to show up on sender’s doorstep covered in blood. 

[ CLEANSE ] for sender to find receiver trying to clean blood off themselves. 

[ DISCOVER ] for receiver to find sender trying to clean blood off themselves. 

[ AID ] for sender to help receiver clean blood off themselves. 

[ ERASE ] for receiver to help sender clean blood off themselves. 

[ ESCAPE ] for sender to find receiver after they’ve killed someone. 

[ SEEN ] for receiver to find sender after they’ve killed someone. 

[ HELP ] for sender to clean up the aftermath of receiver’s crime. 

[ ACCEPT ] for receiver to clean up the aftermath of sender’s crime. 

[ FOUND ] for sender to discover receiver covered in blood. 

[ EXPOSE ] for receiver to discover sender covered in blood. 

[ ATTACK ] for sender to stab or shoot receiver. 

[ WOUNDED ] for receiver to stab or shoot sender. 

[ BROKE ] for sender to punch receiver hard enough their nose bleeds. 

[ INJURE ] for receiver to punch sender hard enough their nose bleeds. 

[ WITNESS ] for sender to see receiver get hurt enough to bleed.  

[ WATCH ] for receiver to see sender get hurt enough to bleed. 

[ RETALIATE ] for sender to make receiver’s attacker bleed. 

[ DEFEND ] for receiver to make sender’s attacker bleed. 

[ SURVIVE ] for sender to realize receiver is bleeding after getting through a fight. 

Tommy Shelby - Peaky Blinders S4E4

but  this  means  john  was  the  wife  of  this  home  he  has  come  to  accept;  the  homemaker,  the  caged  bird.  he  keeps  the  abandoned  cabin  clean  and  organized,  he  prepares  the  food  gluskin  brings  home,  he  keeps  his  '  husband  '  happy  by  trying  to  make  days  always  be  good  ---  like  a  good  wife  should.  eddie  expects  all  of  this  from  him,  just  as  he  expects  dinner  to  be  ready  by  the  time  he  gets  home.

eddie  kept  a  sporadic  scheduled  that  was  fueled  by  only  his  own  mind,  yet  john  has  learned  that  he  typically  never  is  gone  but  for  two  to  three  hours  at  a  time  even  though  there  was  a  trust  between  them  now.  so  most  days,  john  starts  dinner  by  the  end  of  the  first  hour  in  the  effort  that  it's  usually  near  finished  when  eddie  was  coming  through  the  doors.  today  is  no  different,  with  some  of  the  deer  meat  eddie  had  skinned  &  cut  for  them  this  morning  stewing  in  a  pot  on  the  wood  burning  stove  alongside  with  a  packet's  worth  of  pasta  that  john  was  sure  was  going  to  near  its  lifespan  soon.

it  would  seem  his  time  -  guessing  was  getting  better,  for  the  ex  -  priest  was  interrupted  from  reading  words  on  old  paper  by  the  sound  of  the  kitchen  door  opening;  john  turns  his  head,  moving  to  greet  the  other  man  whilst  closing  his  book  shut.  "  welcome  home,  did  you  ...  "

fear  plumes  in  ward's  ribcage  like  how  it  would  in  a  mouse's  when  it's  spotted  by  a  cat,  causing  his  heart  to  stall.

it's  not  eddie.  it's  a  completely  different  man;  a  stranger  who  was  skinny  on  the  bones  and  more  than  a  little  rough  looking,  with  greasy  hair  sticking  to  his  forehead.  being  confronted  by  another  human  that  wasn't  the  groom  for  the  first  time  in  a  year  would  be  startling  enough,  but  then  john  notices  the  glint  of  something  metal  in  the  man's  left  hand.

the  intruder  wastes  no  time  in  making  what  he  wants  known,  stepping  closer  as  john  steps  back  ---  body  stiff.  "  noticed  you  have  a  car  outside.  "

if  ward  had  the  keys,  he'd  give  them  over  easily  just  to  deescalate  the  situation  ---  an  old  car  was  not  worth  his  life.  but  alas,  eddie  always  kept  the  car  keys  on  him.  another  step  back  is  taken,  stiffness  soon  shifting  to  trembling as the weight of the situation sets in.  the  stranger  doesn't  like  this,  switching  the  blade  to  his  other  hand  as  he  lessens  the  gap  between  them  once  again.

"  don't  make  this  hard,  just  give  me  the  keys.  "

briefly,  john  sees  movement  in  the  kitchen  window  from  the  corner  of  his  eye  ---  though  his  wide  eyes  remain  on  the  stranger  on  front  of  him,  fixated  on  the  knife  that,  unlike  his  husband's,  wouldn't  be  very  kind  should  it  come  near. 

"  you  need  to  leave.  "  john's  voice  cracks,  not  only  betraying  the  terror  he  felt  but  the  dread  of  knowing  of  what  was  about  to  happen. this time, he takes two steps back.

now, there's  the glimpse of a familiar  shadow  in  the  left  open  doorway  ...   though  yet  again  ---  fear  won't  let  his  eyes  leave  how  the  stranger  grips  the  knife.

"  or  what?  "

that had been eddie’s focus up until he’d approached their cabin and heard the sound of an unfamiliar voice sounding from inside.

at first, he comes to a halt. his traitorous mind jumps to one conclusion : his bride has brought another man into their home.

it’s a sour, enraging thought, one that has him walking with determination. the bag of supplies dropped on the ground outside, his face darkens with a snarl. after everything he’s done for his wife, how dare she treat him like that? she’s no better than all the rest of them with their unfaithful eyes and wandering hands.

but then, now close enough to pick up the stranger’s words, he realizes that he’s gotten this all wrong. gluskin is aware of this as he stands in their doorway to their kitchen, the flowers still held in his hand in a death grip.

almost acutely attuned to the fear on john’s face, the way that his bride’s eyes remain fixated on the stranger’s knife, eddie reaches for the knife tucked in his belt with his free hand. with surprising quietness for a man of his size, gluskin stalks forward — the flowers fall to the floor as he reaches out, a large arm wrapping its way around the smaller man’s neck and yanking his scrawny frame backwards into his knife.

the blade sinks into flesh with ease. the man cries out in pained surprise — he struggles, but there’s nowhere for him to go. the groom’s rage is fixated, an all-consuming passion. the stranger’s blade falls to the floor alongside the bouquet. eddie withdraws his knife and slams it back in — there’s no art to this, not as his arm tightens against the burglar’s windpipe, not as he stabs him over and over again, blade sinking between his ribs with determined focus.

the man has long since gone slack when eddie is finally satisfied. the bloodlust is sated. the threat is gone. only then does eddie allow the body to fall to the floor, his bloodied knife clutched in his hand. for a moment, he stands there, chest heaving with every breath as he gazes down at the corpse. then, bloodied knife tucked back in its original location, eddie’s attention shifts.

john.

in a flash, eddie is standing in front of his wife. large, bloodied hands reach to cup his face, thumb brushing against soft skin. the gentleness is a startling contrast to the rage he’d just exhibited ; the concern on his face is nothing but genuine.

The bell above the door of the tailor shop chimed softly as James stepped inside, the comforting smell of aged wood and fabric enveloping him immediately. It was a small, pretty place, organized. Spools of thread and loose fabrics rested on the counters, various of colors to choose from. The muted light that filtered through the window casted a warm, soft glow but even in this cozy embrace, a chill shivered down his spine. Why? He wasn’t sure. The store was empty but he knew it was open due to the sign on the door.

A soft sigh leaves his lips as he walked slowly down the slightly aisles, his fingers brushing against the textured fabrics. Each touch seemed to provoke memories, each thread pulling at the fabric of his past. His mind flickered back to the warmth of Mary's laughter, how she used to help him pick shirts that suited him, teasing him about his sense of fashion or lack thereof. Now he was find his own “fashion” and “style”. As he searches for whatever he was seeking, he accidentally knocks over one of the racks. Immediate embarrassment hits him like a truck as he scurries down to his knees to began cleaning up the mess. How was he so clumsy? Muttering a few curses he tries to clean up as efficiently as possible.

still, when the crash resounded, he abandoned his task and made his way to the storefront instead. bright blue eyes immediately lock onto the mess of clothing on the ground, only to then shift focus towards the perpetrator.

eddie blinks.

any and all irritation fades away, replaced instead by a piqued interest. the tailor wastes no time in closing the distance between them with long strides, reaching down and standing the rack upright before crouching down alongside the stranger. “ it's fine, ” gluskin says, laughing softly. “ don't worry about it. ”

his hand reaches for one of the shirts, right at the same time as the customer does. eddie's fingers brush against his, and to anyone else, it would probably seem like a mere accident — in actuality, it's an intentional, calculated gesture.

“ was there anything in particular you were looking for before all of this happened? ”