thebubblybutcher

[thebubblybutcher]

god forbid a woman is fucking disgusting and hopeless

[thebubblybutcher]

[thebubblybutcher]

i would make such a beautiful dead bird on the sidewalk

[thebubblybutcher]

†

[thebubblybutcher]

as always i think gay cannibalism is the answer

[thebubblybutcher]

a certain butch puppy says happy pride month!! 🎉 ft. the dogs of war cosmetic

flag made by @sewerdraws 🫀🫀

[thebubblybutcher]

i refuse to apologize for being weird or offputting actually that's your problem i'm having a fantastic time

[thebubblybutcher]

watching a man get tortured works wonders to lighten ur mood

[thebubblybutcher]

[thebubblybutcher]

““I am all by myself. The trees are not trees the birds are not birds and I am not me but just something that has been walking for a very long time…””

— Annihilation - Jeff Vandermeer (p. 82)

[thebubblybutcher]

ℜ𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔭

[thebubblybutcher]

the sainted one, a.d.

[thebubblybutcher]

bo herself doesn't get under the blankets - she doesn't like them wrapped around her. her thin sheet was only out of necessity from the temperature and only ever came up to her waist, but here, she didn't need anything more than kat cuddled up to her.

she continues to fidget with her hair while the other hand rests on her shoulder. just like the last time she'd seen her sleep, she found her uttertly adorable. heart fluttering with the sheer trust she puts in her. but unlike the last time, where she laid wide awake and rigid and refused to let her guard down for a second, she feels herself settle into an unusual state of calm. mucles released of their tension and mind pacified into rare quiet.

she rests her chin on kat's head and grips her just a bit tighter against herself, feeling her eyelids growing heavy. she's lulled to sleep faster than she can realise it - perhaps for the first time in years without any struggle.

it's the dead of night. the base is quiet. even the desert outside is asleep, aside from a few noctournal critters. all rest but one. one figure tosses and turns, murmuring and muttering unintelligible things under her breath. blanket tangled between her legs, half shucked off as she's sweating far too much for it, yet she shivers exposed to the chilled air of the cellar.

she shoots up screaming. a guttural, inhuman sound that rips violently from her throat. the cold concrete walls merely absorb the noise. the twisted metal of the broken open vent that hangs above is the only thing that rattles in sympathy. she hyperventilates as her eyes dart around in the darkness, woozy from vertigo, vaguely taking in the dark surroundings. no padded walls. no fluorescent lights. no white. the panic is replaced with a vapid emptiness that sucks out what little is left of her rotted insides. she brings her knees to her chest. her hands come up to entwine and tug at the tangled, dark mop on her head in an attempt to stop the unbearable noise of her own heart pounding in her ears, though the sting of ripping out her hair does a shoddy job of distracting her. it burns behind her eyes. maggots squirm in her flesh, chewing on muscle greedily, feeding on grey matter. rising bilse stings her throat. she manages to keep it down. a metallic taste coats her tongue. she's failed to realise she's once again bitten through her lip.

her eyes fixate directly in front of her at a far wall. the weight of her lack of rest bounds down on her body like a lead blanket, heavy, heavy. her breathing is ragged and slightly choked, feeling as if her lungs are filled with fluid as she brings her nails to her neck in a desperate bid to soothe herself. it doesn't work. it hasn't worked in a long time. still, she scratches like there are worms writhing beneath her skin. she can't bring herself to stop, even as scabs rip and blood trickles and she loses all her minuscule progress. it's too hard to breathe.

this was far from the first time, and wouldn't be the last. it never got any easier.

[thebubblybutcher]

god, how she loves her laugh. it presses on such a soft spot of her heart that - if she didn't know any better by now - she'd think hurt. under different circumstances, perhaps a month ago, she's certain it would've made her sick.

she'd have snickered at the ridiculously over the top decor if she weren't so fixated on the other. she starts to giggle again as kat insists upon covering her in more kisses. sighing blissfully and feeling weak in the limbs, she shifts from on top of her to settling down beside her. the bed welcomes her by letting her weight sink into its softness - a stark contrast from the bare, hard mattress in her own room. everything here wanted her here. that's something she can't remember ever having. she, too, has never let someone this close. though she still can't quite wrap her head around it, she's too tired, and too warm, and too elated to doubt anything.

she takes her hand and holds it firmly in a way that assures she's not going anywhere anytime soon. the other cups kat's cheek and turns it to her, caresses down her jaw, her neck, stopping at her collar bone. calloused, scarred, cold hands offering all the worship and adoration they're capable of. she presses her thumb under her chin and kisses her one more time. more softly. it lingers for a minute before she just barely pulls back and treads her fingers through the other's curls, playing with the texture, scratching gently at her scalp. her voice is quiet. breath brushing her lips with the closeness. a deep rumble more reminiscent of a purr.

"don't let me keep you any longer, lovely."

it's the dead of night. the base is quiet. even the desert outside is asleep, aside from a few noctournal critters. all rest but one. one figure tosses and turns, murmuring and muttering unintelligible things under her breath. blanket tangled between her legs, half shucked off as she's sweating far too much for it, yet she shivers exposed to the chilled air of the cellar.

she shoots up screaming. a guttural, inhuman sound that rips violently from her throat. the cold concrete walls merely absorb the noise. the twisted metal of the broken open vent that hangs above is the only thing that rattles in sympathy. she hyperventilates as her eyes dart around in the darkness, woozy from vertigo, vaguely taking in the dark surroundings. no padded walls. no fluorescent lights. no white. the panic is replaced with a vapid emptiness that sucks out what little is left of her rotted insides. she brings her knees to her chest. her hands come up to entwine and tug at the tangled, dark mop on her head in an attempt to stop the unbearable noise of her own heart pounding in her ears, though the sting of ripping out her hair does a shoddy job of distracting her. it burns behind her eyes. maggots squirm in her flesh, chewing on muscle greedily, feeding on grey matter. rising bilse stings her throat. she manages to keep it down. a metallic taste coats her tongue. she's failed to realise she's once again bitten through her lip.

her eyes fixate directly in front of her at a far wall. the weight of her lack of rest bounds down on her body like a lead blanket, heavy, heavy. her breathing is ragged and slightly choked, feeling as if her lungs are filled with fluid as she brings her nails to her neck in a desperate bid to soothe herself. it doesn't work. it hasn't worked in a long time. still, she scratches like there are worms writhing beneath her skin. she can't bring herself to stop, even as scabs rip and blood trickles and she loses all her minuscule progress. it's too hard to breathe.

this was far from the first time, and wouldn't be the last. it never got any easier.

[thebubblybutcher]

she bubbles with breathy, mad giggles as kat's lips pepper her face, unable to contain her sheer excitement. closing her eyes, tilting her head up to present her jaw and cheek, humming and letting out little chuffs. she feels light as a feather. she's never once experienced such an airy euphoria when she wasn't watching blood spill from someone - this almost felt even better.

by the time kat pulls away, she's panting and shivering just slightly from the overwhelming flood of endorphins spilling into her system. even though she smiles near constantly - this is one of the only times her cheeks have ached from the prolonged wideness of it. it feels almost exactly like the first time she consciously, purposefully took a life. her heart is beating out of her chest almost when kat first lays against it, but slowly calms into a steadier rhythm. she peers down at her, fingers toying in her hair. then her grin - and the chuckle that leaves her - shifts into something mischevious. she coos.

"is that right?"

she suddenly shifts to trap her firmly in her arms and hoists her up. in a second they've gone from the couch to moving briskly to her bedroom, kat being carried against her in a secure grip with seemingly little effort on the other's part. bo nudges the door open and half-tosses her playfully yet carefully on the bed, not seperated for more than a moment before she cralws onto her with a devilish cackle. it would be a bit freaky, were kat not so familar with her antics and natural oddity by now.

it's the dead of night. the base is quiet. even the desert outside is asleep, aside from a few noctournal critters. all rest but one. one figure tosses and turns, murmuring and muttering unintelligible things under her breath. blanket tangled between her legs, half shucked off as she's sweating far too much for it, yet she shivers exposed to the chilled air of the cellar.

she shoots up screaming. a guttural, inhuman sound that rips violently from her throat. the cold concrete walls merely absorb the noise. the twisted metal of the broken open vent that hangs above is the only thing that rattles in sympathy. she hyperventilates as her eyes dart around in the darkness, woozy from vertigo, vaguely taking in the dark surroundings. no padded walls. no fluorescent lights. no white. the panic is replaced with a vapid emptiness that sucks out what little is left of her rotted insides. she brings her knees to her chest. her hands come up to entwine and tug at the tangled, dark mop on her head in an attempt to stop the unbearable noise of her own heart pounding in her ears, though the sting of ripping out her hair does a shoddy job of distracting her. it burns behind her eyes. maggots squirm in her flesh, chewing on muscle greedily, feeding on grey matter. rising bilse stings her throat. she manages to keep it down. a metallic taste coats her tongue. she's failed to realise she's once again bitten through her lip.

her eyes fixate directly in front of her at a far wall. the weight of her lack of rest bounds down on her body like a lead blanket, heavy, heavy. her breathing is ragged and slightly choked, feeling as if her lungs are filled with fluid as she brings her nails to her neck in a desperate bid to soothe herself. it doesn't work. it hasn't worked in a long time. still, she scratches like there are worms writhing beneath her skin. she can't bring herself to stop, even as scabs rip and blood trickles and she loses all her minuscule progress. it's too hard to breathe.

this was far from the first time, and wouldn't be the last. it never got any easier.

[thebubblybutcher]

her arms return to her. catching her in them, supporting her in them, letting kat lean on her. hunter's own tiredness is also on display - shoulders slumped, eyes heavy, movements more lazy and leisurely than her usual expeditious twitches.

at the confirmation, her grin widens into another one that takes up her whole face. reflecting the excitement, yellowed, gapped, fanged set glinting in candlelight as her stomach does a little flip and her heart skips. a hand rests on her hip while the other slides up her cheek to twirl one of kat's curls idly in her finger. she loves her curls. she's - once again - stricken with just how beautiful the other is. a giggle bubbles in her throat, euphoric this time.

she wastes no time taking her up on the offer. she presses forward and closes the gap again, a bit more confident, drawing out a bit longer, her smile not entirely lost against her lips. finally letting herself savour the taste of her. not worried about how she feels herself quickly becoming completely hooked. when she does pull away, she quickly presses to another spot - a shorter peck on her cheek, though still afforded the same feeling she put into the others. appreciation, reverence, unbridled affection. despite her growing drowsiness, she never wants to stop.

it's the dead of night. the base is quiet. even the desert outside is asleep, aside from a few noctournal critters. all rest but one. one figure tosses and turns, murmuring and muttering unintelligible things under her breath. blanket tangled between her legs, half shucked off as she's sweating far too much for it, yet she shivers exposed to the chilled air of the cellar.

she shoots up screaming. a guttural, inhuman sound that rips violently from her throat. the cold concrete walls merely absorb the noise. the twisted metal of the broken open vent that hangs above is the only thing that rattles in sympathy. she hyperventilates as her eyes dart around in the darkness, woozy from vertigo, vaguely taking in the dark surroundings. no padded walls. no fluorescent lights. no white. the panic is replaced with a vapid emptiness that sucks out what little is left of her rotted insides. she brings her knees to her chest. her hands come up to entwine and tug at the tangled, dark mop on her head in an attempt to stop the unbearable noise of her own heart pounding in her ears, though the sting of ripping out her hair does a shoddy job of distracting her. it burns behind her eyes. maggots squirm in her flesh, chewing on muscle greedily, feeding on grey matter. rising bilse stings her throat. she manages to keep it down. a metallic taste coats her tongue. she's failed to realise she's once again bitten through her lip.

her eyes fixate directly in front of her at a far wall. the weight of her lack of rest bounds down on her body like a lead blanket, heavy, heavy. her breathing is ragged and slightly choked, feeling as if her lungs are filled with fluid as she brings her nails to her neck in a desperate bid to soothe herself. it doesn't work. it hasn't worked in a long time. still, she scratches like there are worms writhing beneath her skin. she can't bring herself to stop, even as scabs rip and blood trickles and she loses all her minuscule progress. it's too hard to breathe.

this was far from the first time, and wouldn't be the last. it never got any easier.

[thebubblybutcher]

she blinks down at kat, her full attention locked onto those candy red eyes. and she keeps herself together. despite how fatigued, and broken down, and tired, and that stinging like her chest is cut open and bleeding out - she keeps herself together. it feels like an easier task with her here. it baffles and entrances her how someone could make her feel so stable, yet so scattered and dizzy. so secure yet so seasick.

she calms and lets out a breath when kat reaches for her. careful touch and warm flesh once more reassuring her everything's alright, and she sinks into it. she presses her own hand over kat's. a considerable contrast between rough, frigid palm and soft, scorching cheek. she can't help but feel like she doesn't deserve this, but she lets it happen. too exhausted and too raw, too ripped back and forth by the tide of incessant mood swings to be any more stubborn.

those last words strike her. perfect.. she could say the same of the woman below her. she could say a lot of things about her. feeling utterly adored, she nuzzles her face into kat's palm and bites her lip to keep from cracking all over again.

she soon breaks into a sheepish smile. reaching out to cup the other's cheek in turn.

"does... that mean i can do it again?"

it's the dead of night. the base is quiet. even the desert outside is asleep, aside from a few noctournal critters. all rest but one. one figure tosses and turns, murmuring and muttering unintelligible things under her breath. blanket tangled between her legs, half shucked off as she's sweating far too much for it, yet she shivers exposed to the chilled air of the cellar.

she shoots up screaming. a guttural, inhuman sound that rips violently from her throat. the cold concrete walls merely absorb the noise. the twisted metal of the broken open vent that hangs above is the only thing that rattles in sympathy. she hyperventilates as her eyes dart around in the darkness, woozy from vertigo, vaguely taking in the dark surroundings. no padded walls. no fluorescent lights. no white. the panic is replaced with a vapid emptiness that sucks out what little is left of her rotted insides. she brings her knees to her chest. her hands come up to entwine and tug at the tangled, dark mop on her head in an attempt to stop the unbearable noise of her own heart pounding in her ears, though the sting of ripping out her hair does a shoddy job of distracting her. it burns behind her eyes. maggots squirm in her flesh, chewing on muscle greedily, feeding on grey matter. rising bilse stings her throat. she manages to keep it down. a metallic taste coats her tongue. she's failed to realise she's once again bitten through her lip.

her eyes fixate directly in front of her at a far wall. the weight of her lack of rest bounds down on her body like a lead blanket, heavy, heavy. her breathing is ragged and slightly choked, feeling as if her lungs are filled with fluid as she brings her nails to her neck in a desperate bid to soothe herself. it doesn't work. it hasn't worked in a long time. still, she scratches like there are worms writhing beneath her skin. she can't bring herself to stop, even as scabs rip and blood trickles and she loses all her minuscule progress. it's too hard to breathe.

this was far from the first time, and wouldn't be the last. it never got any easier.