PerpetuallyAbnormal



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  1. Public Bookmark 86

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    They’d never talked about it none, not before now; had only exchanged knowing glances over quiet cups of coffee, sat a little too close together by the fire at night, thighs just barely brushing. The odd clap on the back or a hand on the knee, inconspicuous and unassuming and invisible to anyone but the two of them. Maybe a sideways glance, once, while they were pissing on the same tree back before Blackwater, when Arthur’d been a little too drunk and a little too desperate to know better.
    No, they’d never talked about it, but they’d both known it in their bones, had sensed it.

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    Kîyanaw – Us, inclusive; you and me.

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    21 Jul 2025

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  2. Public Bookmark 16

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    He didn’t tell her, then, that he didn’t sleep much anyhow, not anymore. Didn’t tell her that if it weren’t nightmares of John’s corpse swinging from a Joshua tree, it was vague memory-dreams of hands parting his thighs to spread him open and the sick, gutless feeling of being pushed into like the slow slide of a knife through raw meat. He didn’t tell her that he weren’t much worried about rest, now. Didn’t tell her that he was already miserable.

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    Dutch had raised him up right, but something about it had always felt wrong.

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    21 Jul 2025

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  3. Public Bookmark 48

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    Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he’d crawl into Arthur’s bed and just hold him, not saying anything at all, just holding him so close Arthur could hear the man’s heart, pounding angry and afraid against his breastbone. Maybe that’s when Arthur’d first known it, deep down in his twisting guts; he could never leave, even if he wanted to.

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    Dutch had raised him up to be a good man, but Dutch ain't no good man.

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    21 Jul 2025

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  4. Public Bookmark 30

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    By the end of the first week, Charles had been longing for his soft, shared bed and the warm goose-down duvet that he’d selfishly gifted Arthur, back when he’d still been skinny with sickness and prone to chills. By the end of the second, his gut was aching with homesickness and he’d dreamed of strong, warm, calloused hands that overknead bread and weave through his hair like water around smooth river stones. Now, after three weeks, all Charles wants is a hug and a clean pair of socks.

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    Kîyanaw – Us, inclusive; you and me.

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    21 Jul 2025

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  5. Public Bookmark 38

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    It doesn’t matter none, though, because it doesn’t even seem the outlaw is listening; he’s busy using one hand to spread Arthur wide, the other guiding the barrel of the gun to gently lift Arthur’s balls where they hang, vulnerable and exposed. Arthur can feel the man’s hot, eager breath ghosting over his asshole and he groans – wants that filthy mouth on him more than he’d ever admit.
    “I’m not going to hurt you,” the stranger says, and Arthur can hear the wicked devious smile in the lilt of his voice. “At least, not much, anyway.”

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    Kîyanaw – Us, inclusive; you and me.

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    English
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    21 Jul 2025

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