bitch-butter

[bitch-butter]

some pretty boys 4 the tumblr feed

[bitch-butter]

the Best compliment 😭🖤

rivers always reach the sea by @bitch-butter so life changing i bought a tree grows in brooklyn

[bitch-butter]

🌞🏖🐺🍹

So whats tea, whats good? We miss anything?

https://open.spotify.com/episode/7gGeAxzVJY9oT0Dk9XHNgs

[bitch-butter]

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut

Reblog this if you want readers to come into your ask box and ask for the “director’s commentary” on a particular story, section of a story, or set of lines. 

Or, send in a ⭐star⭐  to have the author select a section they’ve been dying to talk about!

[bitch-butter]

wip word game

tagged by @youcalledmebabe. my word was Film 🖤

rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

All from the forthcoming chapter of i saw stars (hopefully out very soon 👀)

F: Fighting back a sneer, he jerked his head towards the door. “You look like shit, don’t tell anyone you get your hair cut here,” he said curtly, already turning his back to play at putting his station in order.

I: “I would rather be dead than not be with you,” Web said quietly, voice delicately balanced, his eyes murderous with agony. “Does that make you happy?”

L: "Let go of me," he said, his voice like death itself, just on the edge of something animal.

M: Maybe he just needed to be a little stoned and in an hour or so he’d snap out of being Mr. Hyde and go back to being himself.

tagging: anyone and everyone. do Alien 👽

[bitch-butter]

@fromjupitertocentauri

~and thank you for the other prompt! 🌊🖤~

Coughing in disgust, John grimaced and shoved at his chest. “Christ alive, did you eat fish for lunch, or what?” he sniped, wrinkling his nose. “Eat a mint or something, Casanova, maybe my brother will start kissing you again.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Joe barked as Sam gave a short whistle behind them, his eyes darting to the street beyond the door, which was still bustling even as the day began to turn towards the evening. “You’re really a fucking asshole, you know that?”

“You’re not mad at me, you’re mad at your life, and for that you have my sympathy,” John went on, his eyes low and condescending on Joe’s face. “But don’t take it out on me because I have about fifteen years of energy that you don’t have.”

Joe glared at him, frustration tickling up the hairs along his forearms. “Fourteen,” he corrected, barbed, taking hold of the cape around the other man’s shoulders and ripping it free with a hard crack of fabric. “Your hair looks fine. Shave yourself.”

[bitch-butter]

@fromjupitertocentauri

~ thank you for the prompt! 🖤~

“I…” Joe trailed off, eyes lost where the shore was swallowed by the tide, the waves pushing and pulling at the earth. “I don't know what marriage looks like without children.”

The corner of David's mouth trembled gently, the sound of the sea making the smallness of the gesture seem as enormous as a planet. “Am I upsetting you?” he questioned, voice almost lost beneath the roar of the water beneath them.

[bitch-butter]

👑!!

~longer bc I love it!!~

“A speech I’m set to give in two weeks at the university in Abbrennan,” David said, eyes still down against the page, brow attractively furrowed.

Joe frowned, lowering the pamphlet. “You’re going back so soon?”

Sighing, David gave a small shake of his head. “I have to, this will be right before the council votes on whether or not to begin admitting Omegas to the symposium,” he said, the exhale heavy on his tongue as he finally looked up towards Joe. “Might tip the scales.”

Scoffing, Joe reached for his abandoned tea. “Wouldn’t it seem a little counterintuitive to have an Omega as king and to still preach that they can’t attend university?” he questioned, voice low and critical.

“You’d be surprised at our capacity for hypocrisy,” David rolled his eyes, setting the speech aside to slump back in his seat. “At any rate, I’ll likely have to leave early next week,” he said wearily, mouth pursed up as he thought momentarily. “Do you think you could come with me?”

It made him swell with satisfaction and yet twinge with shame. “I’ll have to see,” he settled, taking a sip from the cup and grimacing at the lukewarm liquid. “I’ll ask Chuck at the end of the meeting today, he should know if there are any surprises in store for the next few weeks.”

Humming out a laugh, David managed a smile as he stretched his arms out languidly. “Hopefully no more than what color tablecloths you want at the reception,” he teased knowingly.

[bitch-butter]

not to be dramatic but 🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️

~a longer snippet for the zealous waves~

His heart raced, the high pulling against the magnet of his rage. “You would love it if I walked out right now, wouldn’t you?” he rasped, holding Web’s eyes in his own with deadly precision, the twilight glowing around them like radiation. “It would make this fucking pity party you’re throwing yourself completely deserved. I picked you,” he spat, relishing in the feeling against his lips, like steam escaping a kettle. “I picked you even when people told me I shouldn’t, when I told myself I shouldn’t. You don’t need to tell me what I’ve fucking lost because I picked you and not some girl from Salt Lake City. There's nothing about this that’s been easy,” he went on until his voice choked out, unable to look away from Web’s reddened cheeks, the scarlet tips of his ears as Joe's words pummeled over them. “But I chose you. Stop trying to make me regret it.”

[bitch-butter]

make me write game

tagged by @youcalledmebabe ~ 🖤

rules: send me an emoji corresponding to the wip and I'll write three sentences per emoji and share it

🌊 i saw stars

👑 a room where the light won't find you (epilogue to everybody wants to rule the world)

💊 pretty from the back

🛸 untitled alien speirton au

tagging: you! lol

[bitch-butter]

Webgott Collage for Webgott Wednesday ❤︎

Lowkey inspired by @bitch-butter’s series Rivers Always Reach The Sea.

[bitch-butter]

JOSEPH LIEBGOTT Band of Brothers (2001)

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please find a scene from the upcoming chapter of i saw stars as an apology for being deeply anti-social and slow. the month is May, and my hands feel alive again 🪻🌳💖

Web was well-seasoned at this ritual. The first time had felt like magic, like he had been born knowing the ways to ease Joe back to himself, his fingers gathering up the tendrils of his pain and making them evaporate into thin air. Joe had looked at him and been dazed by his own wonder, by the weight of his luck. His whole life had become moments like this, just isolated memories of better times, of sunlight, of Web’s smile and their life stretched out before him like a tapestry.      

He was afraid to open his eyes, but his voice appeared as if from nowhere. 

“David?”

A short hum of a sound met him at first. “Yes?” Web urged quietly, his voice a blank slate even as his hands were soft, warm.

His throat ached with the heaviness of his heart as it tried to squeeze itself up the narrow passage and into his mouth. “Do you love me?” he asked, hating himself down to the bone.

The touch at his temples hesitated only slightly, but the fingers that returned to sweep his hair back from his face were steady.  “Of course I do,” Web replied, fragile and curious at once, and Joe became even more fearful of looking at him, sure that he was going to be met with big, wet doe-eyes like Joe was the one who had done something wrong.

“Why are you so mad at me?” he pressed, his voice low.

He could hear the soft sigh that Web released, the gust of it stamped over his face. “I’m not mad at you, Joe,” he answered easily, his voice shot through with weariness, as tired as Joe felt.

Joe swallowed the excuse, finding it stuck against the back of his mouth, bitter, and he cracked his eyes open finally to meet Web’s. “You’re mad at something,” he said, not even minding that in the dark it felt like an accusation as he watched Web’s eyes move between exhaustion and something darker.

“Maybe I’m angry at myself,” Web said on the edges of a hard exhale, his mouth flat even as his hands still smoothed over Joe’s hair.

Brow furrowing, Joe was afraid to move, to break the moment even as his heart yearned to reach for him. “Why?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Web said, impenetrable, as he traced his fingers over Joe’s brow until it relaxed once more.

It was just one in a thousand moments over the past few months where Web pushed him away from the soft parts of himself he used to love for Joe to touch, but it stung all the same. “David, I just want to help you,” he said, embarrassed to find that his throat was tight again, that his heart was shaking in his ribcage with the force of his hurt. It was the worst kind of pain, like a metal rod skewering his heart to his ribs as it fought tirelessly to escape, only capable of shaking violently, almost to the point of demolition. 

Web paused, his face drawn, the corners of his eyes pinched up with pain. “I appreciate that,” he said, his voice barely more than a shiver of moonlight, and the simplicity of it had his mouth shuddering open, his eyes shutting up against the hot press of moisture that abruptly seized them. “Shh, liebling,” he hushed, but his words did nothing as Joe tried to futilely bring the sudden onslaught of his grief under control.

“I’m just tired,” Joe croaked, voice raw, pulling in another fast breath at the feeling of Web’s hands against his face, at the way he collected his tears without a second thought, their heat surely melting against the warmth of his hand.

“I know,” Web nodded, his voice soft once more, kind as Joe sniffed disgustingly. “It’s alright,” he went on, sure and steady, and the turns of his mood were as inscrutable to Joe as they ever were back in the golden days when he barely knew Web, and yet even more remote and unknowable now with his hands against Joe’s face. “Just breathe.”

Joe’s mouth felt dry, his eyes saturated by hot misery. “I have dreams where you leave me,”  he said, his voice more sensation than anything else, a quivering nerve. “Then I wake up and you’re angry.”

“Joe…” Web breathed, plaintive and flat, but devastated nonetheless.

“I just want you to talk to me, David,” he forced, his eyes opening to glance off of the impression of Web’s face in the shadows, of his faraway, hazy eyes that looked like fog rolling off the water of the bay. “That’s it.”

Web’s gaze lingered somewhere in the dark, the shadows caressing the angles of his face that appeared sharper in the light touch of the moonlight. He didn’t look like himself. He looked older, more brittle, almost a ghost. “There’s nothing to say,” he said, hushed, chest moving slowly with a deep, anguished breath. “I’m not as good with words as I thought I was,” he settled, his voice like a sound in the next room, all the warmth that remained becoming transitory, cooling all too abruptly. “All I can say is I’m sorry.”

It was the response of a child, and he wanted to push into it with the anger of a child. “That’s not what I want,” he muttered, tongue clipping against his teeth like a razor, turning his face away to let his eyes shut against the dark, fighting against another wave of anguish as it threatened to put its weight against his burgeoning migraine. This was the last thing he needed, an argument in the middle of the night that went nowhere. 

Web’s hands were still against his face, their previous warmth now nothing but the coolness of stone. “Quiet, now,” he said gently, fatigue rolling off of his tongue, his fingers in Joe’s hair as he refused to look back at him. “Just calm down.”

As if. Web’s apologies would not be accepted, tonight or any night, until he stopped this dumbass performance. Joe could fume that to himself until he fell asleep, could count his grudges, the little annoyances to the whole wildfires of rage that he carried, like sheep until he was lulled into dreams that looked like war, like illness, like Landsberg, but it wouldn't make one lick of difference. He’d still wake up desperate for Web’s affection like a kicked dog, even if he was sick at the thought of it, even if it brought him nothing but misery.

To think the thought used to trickle through his mind ceaselessly, in those early days when just the glint of Web’s profile in the corner of his eye made him shake: I’d make myself miserable if it made you happy.  Maybe he had magic in his blood, some sort of witchcraft spun through the loose, silvery net of his mind, something that had heard that thought burrowed between the pounding of his heart and it had cast a spell. A spell that smelled like rotting fruit, salt air, but tasted like summer wine. 

You can have him, the taunt sounded, just as it had when he had thought he’d never see Web again. Take the job, take the house, take him and keep him, too, but it will make you miserable. Nothing in this life is free. 

He had been very, very lucky once. It felt like a dream now. Joe wished he would just wake up from this dream, or die, whichever he had to work less for. 

For a while he was able to doze back into a jittery tranquility, his body paralyzed but his head still thrumming with anxiety. The touch of Web’s fingers never faltered, but he began to go numb at their touch like they were nothing more than pricks of morphine, carrying him beautiful nothingness along his temples, his hair. When Web spoke again he almost believed he’d imagined it. 

“I love you,” his voice was a whisper. “You know I love you.”

Web was casting his own spell, apparently, alone in the darkness of their room with Joe’s head in his lap. But his magic was beginning to lose its effect. There was a callus forming around him as thick as a burn, hard and calcified like burnt sugar.

[bitch-butter]

hiiiii! im not sure if you’re on here much anymore but I just have to say i am in LOVE with your fics and I can’t get enough of them. Like in every universe you are a fucking Artist and tour de force. and i’m just wondering if you have any advice for beginners and…like beginnings? lmao. Like I am trying my hand at writing for the first time this year and it is slow going and rewarding but it is the INTROS to a story I am struggling the most with. like, getting things first off the ground. nothing every feels authentic or like, a good enough set up and I don’t know. i feel like I’m overthinking it and I am sure that is just making it worse. I’ve always heard you should just jump right into action but maybe that’s outdated af?

How do you know where to begin a story? How do you kick things off and just step right into someone’s world? thank you so much for any advice 😘🙏😭

babe thank you so much for your kind words! 🖤✨ i am on here but i'm in my anti-social era - however, i'm going to make more of an effort to be present lol

i completely get what you're saying, sometimes the hardest thing to understand about a story is how it begins. they're easily the most inorganic part of writing, because depending on where and when you're setting the story you need to catch people up to the rules of your universe in a way that feels both intuitive and also doesn't challenge them too hard off the bat, and there's really no elegant way of doing that. it is definitely easy to overthink it and scare yourself even more, so my best advice would be to just play it as it lays a little bit and write as much of it as you can and let the information come out where it feels right. sometimes after i do that I discover i have a whole new idea for where i want the story to begin, and sometimes it just occurs to me that i have more space than i thought i did to help things make sense for the reader because it's my story and i can play by my rules - which is the most chic part of writing tbh lol

just do your own thing! the reader is never as clueless or judgmental as we think they're going to be, they'll be able to get what you're laying down. if a story wants to be told badly enough it will teach you the way to tell it, so the best thing you can do is just write ~

good luck 🖤

[bitch-butter]

A Yap Centric Oracle Chats

We're just yapping, gabbing even, I'd go as far to say Chatting in this ep.

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we talk about Smells for like 40-45% of this episode what other hbowar podcast are you getting THAT on am I right ladies up top 💘

Bet you werent expecting this ep YET!

For lent we are giving up italian slurs

[bitch-butter]

Follow me on substack or die of measles: https://saltbutter.substack.com/

I'm not gonna say much besides I hope y'alll got your flu shots for this year