wryneck
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There are rituals to these things. He says, “Say please and I’ll let you.”
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John pounds his fist against the mat and somebody somewhere whistles. For a gnawing, long second, Buck doesn’t release him. John thinks he means to actually dislocate his shoulder. His eyes roll and he pants and laughs against the mat, feels it pressing in his mouth.
“Do it,” John snarls, “and I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”
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Gale's daddy owns a fight club. John's always liked a fight. -
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It's the future—if only Gale could remember.
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“I’m not,” Eddie swallows, his throat suddenly tight, stepping further into the light. “I’m not going to fight you, Buck.”
Buck doesn’t stand down. When does he ever? He’d look natural here, in this lighting, those clothes, if Eddie didn’t know him so well—he’s in way over his head, hanging with crowds like this, with Eddie when he’s like this—the man he used to be, the man that ran away from his wife and newborn, the man of the deserts. No, Buck doesn’t even blink. He just smiles a fish-hook smile, no lip and all teeth, full of gut. “Then tap out.”
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A man with no God turns to his wife for prayer.
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Stewy has a penthouse in New York with expansive views and antique furniture. Stewy has a ridiculous salary and a family he loves. Stewy has friends, he often has lovers, and occasionally even boyfriends. Stewy has expensive drugs in a small plastic bag in his pocket.
Stewy also has Kendall Roy. He has him like a splinter under his skin, and when he’s trying to live his life, enjoying the money or the family or the drugs, that splinter makes itself known, throbbing its two steady syllables, Ken-dall. Then, it is impossible to focus on anything else.
That’s what happens when Stewy learns about Tuscany.
Bookmarked by wryneck
20 Jul 2026
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“You know, I could never hate you,” Patrick tells Art, still on his knees against the floor of the shower. “Not even if you ripped my heart out with your teeth.” The after, immediate and otherwise; come take a bite in the middle of the night.
Bookmarked by wryneck
20 Jul 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
There is a certain sweetness in all this surrender.
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“What’s your name?”
Gale’s tongue is as numb as the rest of him, “Buck.”
A flash of white teeth, grin crooked, incisor a little popped out, “Well how ‘bout that. They call me Bucky.”
“How about that,” Gale agrees.
Bucky examines Gale. He’s got a shrewd gaze. Clever, problem-solving eyes. Smart enough Gale doesn’t like him.
“What do I owe you?”
“Two dollars,” Gale says automatically, before he can say something different like, 'I didn’t give you anything.'
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Morales has no incentive to care beyond base pay and overtime and right now he’s pulling his plate away as Crash coughs up another shred of lung. And Crash says, You gonna pull me?
And Morales says no. So.
— 1992. Crash keeps some things to himself.
Series
- Part 1 of hunger and haunt
Bookmarked by wryneck
04 Jun 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
Is he denying his programming, Crash wonders, or is he living it to its lasting extremity? Do they all live for this the way he does?
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“You think with your dick,” Rust says, when Marty’s got him pinned back against the lockers. “You wanna fuck me same as you wanna beat the shit out of me, just to see if you can.”
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Bookmarked by wryneck
30 May 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
you're a car crash of a human being. sue me if i'm a little captivated by the tragedy.