h o m e

i am a house. people move in. people move out. some stay a long time. some are just visiting. sometimes i am empty. i am a house. hutchings "hutch" booth baker, 30, veterinarian, walnut.

[flowerytale]

— Sylvia Plath.

[lonehowling]

❝Somehow, you grow lonelier / than the world that contains you. / That is why you so / want to be touched.❞

— C.X. Hua, from “The World,” published in The Adroit Journal

an aesthetic for hutchings “hutch” booth baker @hutchingsb

[rpaskmemesx]

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[mitchellwrites]

deathless ♚ sentence meme

You will always fall in love, and it will always be like having your throat cut, just that fast.

You are going to break your promise. I understand.

You’re lonely too.

It will stop your breath, how cruel I can be.

I am a demanding creature. I am selfish and cruel and extremely unreasonable.

I am your servant.

I crawl at your feet; for before your love, your kisses, I am debased.

For you alone I will be weak.

I belong here, and you will not deny me.

I say these things, and the world listens.

I do not tolerate a world emptied of you. I have tried.

In the dark, I have pored over the loss of you like pale gold.

I will not let her speak because I love her, and when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories.

I moved the earth and the water for you.

You will always run away with her.

You will always lose her.

You will always be a fool.

You will always be dead, in a city of ice, snow falling into your ear.

You have already done all of this and will do it again.

No one should be judged for loving more than they ought, only for loving not enough.

We look terrible to you, and severe, and you see our blood flying.

What we carry between us is hard-won, and we made it just as we wished it to be, just the color, just the shape.

There need never be any rules between us.

Let us be greedy together; let us hoard.

Do not leave me, swear that you will never leave me.

I am selfish. I am cruel. My mate cannot be less than I.

Sleep with fists closed and shoot straight.

I can’t abide a poor liar.

You look like a winter’s night. I could sleep inside the cold of you.

Oh, quit that. Blushing is for virgins and Christians.

Scold me; deny me. Tell me you want what you want and damn me forever. But don’t leave me.

Bad luck relies on absolutely perfect timing.

In his own country, Death can be kind.

What is the world but a boxing ring where fools and devils put up their fists?

Men die. It’s practically what they’re for.

I am no one; I am nothing.

Nothing in me was not made by you.

A revelation is always the end of something. It might even be cause for grief.

Just tell yourself a story that’ll satisfy you and pretend he told it.

Forever isn’t bright; it isn’t like that. Forever is cold and hard and final.

I savor bitterness - it is born of experience. It is the privilege of one who has truly lived.

If you want to kill yourself, do not use us as your knife.

What did I do wrong? Was I boring? Did I ignore you?

Don’t you dare speak to me like that.

I have worn nothing but blood and death for years.

I have fought all your battles for you, just as you asked me.

I have learned not to cry when I strangle a man.

I have learned to watch everything die.

I am not a little girl anymore, dazzled by your magic. It is my magic, now, too.

Are we not devils?

No one is now what they were before the war.

I have not seen you without your skin on.

Close up your head; your brain is getting loose.

We obsess. It’s in our nature.

I’ve a devil of a habit for being right.

In war you must always choose sides.

If you try to be a bridge laid down between them, they will tear you in half.

We are all dead. All equal. Broken and aimless and believing we are alive.

My old bones will follow yours soon enough.

It is better to be strong and cruel than to be fair.

I will see him with his skin off before I agree to fall in love.

After love, no one is what they were before.

I have survived, but I have not been spared.

In the space of one heartbeat to another I loved you and I was lost to you.

Frighten me, make me cry, only come back.

It’s not so bad, my darling. Being dead. It’s like being alive, only colder.

You’ll think it’s love, while he dines on your heart.

You will be so beautiful when you are old.

I cannot keep you and I cannot let you go.

You will live as you live in any world…with difficulty, and grief.

I look at you and it is like my throat being cut.

She said you’d come and I swore to eat your heart.

I still want to kiss you.

My heart is being cut in two. I cannot bear it.

What happens to anything beautiful?

I have to know, I have to or else you will just rule me until the end of everything because you know and I do not.

[hutchingsb]

when: January 4th, 2029 where: The woods with: closed / @wrathbare

Will hasn’t asked him to do this, and yet he’s still out here. He’s got more layers on than he can count, but still he’s stripped away his gloves to pick at the trees. Will and her pack have left a sizable hole in his social circle, and it’s making him restless. So he’s taken to the forest, for no other reason than that he’s worried. This is his first winter. The first winter he knows his friends are out there, taken to a four legged form he can’t quite communicate too. It hurts a little too much than he cares for. How a part of him feels like it’s been ripped from him. Almost like it did when Julian left every winter.

The snow is deep, but the tracks are clear. Almost like the wolf doesn’t care that he’s following them. Almost like he may know who they are. It’s enough to spur him forward. Until he breaks into a clearing, horrified at the sight. A wolf, tangled in a rope trap. Hunters are a bigger threat than he truly knows.

“Shh,” he soothes, without any real thought behind it. “I’m gonna get you out of here.”

[hutchingsb]

sarahawthorn​:

There’s a moment where Sara sits happily in Hutch’s chair, her leg draped over one side of the arm like she owns it, her Buckshot turkey burger cooling in her hand. She thinks– foolishly, perhaps– that lunch with Hutch will be the distraction she’s been searching for, an hour’s reprieve from the cold outside and the paranoia in her mind. But Hutch avoids her eye, begins sifting through the contents of the bag for a straw that’s right in front of him, and she knows that something is wrong. They’ve been friends long enough for Sara to be able to recognize his tells, and Hutch has always been a shitty liar.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Sara corrects him. She hadn’t realized it until now, but as she says it aloud, it makes sense. They haven’t seen or spoken to each other in a week.

Sara’s mind doesn’t jump to the wolves right away (Sam always comes first, even years later– has he been avoiding Sam, too?) but the thought of them are always there, following close behind. Logically, she can’t be the only one who knows about them, and he’s a vet, for God’s sake. If anyone else could find out, she’d put her money on Hutch first. 

What scares her the most is that he’ll know she’s been lying to him, too. She never meant to.

Sara releases a breath and sets her uneaten sandwich back down on Hutch’s desk. She braces herself for something that she can’t quite yet place, and ventures the question:

“What’s going on?”

She calls him out effortlessly and this is exactly what he was dreading in the first place. That she knows him. Knows him better than he knows himself sometimes. And he’s been cowardly and scared, and he can’t look her in the eye because there is so much more he knows now that he can’t share with her.

Rory. Will. The wolves.

Every time he goes to text, to call, his best-fucking-friend all those reasons keep him from following through, from pressing send. All those lives he’s now got weighing him down.

It’s been weighing him down.

What he wouldn’t give to just eat fries in his office with her and act like nothing has changed.

“Sam,” he blurts out because it’s the easiest excuse he has. Winter is quickly approaching, and she knows just like him how out of touch their friend is during the harsher months. How the cold seems to drive him out of his and Sara’s shard apartment. How he spends more and more time elsewhere. With more secrets, but with the air of someone in love. The blow the first time Hutch returned had sent him reeling. Now it’s more of a dull ache, but an easy ache to play up. “It’s been harder to be around him.”

He forces himself to meet Sara’s eyes and prays she can’t see through him. That, just this once, she believes his lies. A fry is popped into his mouth for emphasis. He’s gotten so much better at lying. He’s had far too much practice these days.

[relatablepoetryandquotes]

“I want so much that is not here and I do not know where to go.” - Charles Bukowski

[hutchingsb]

sarahawthorn​:

when: december 10th, afternoon where: the vet’s office open to: @hutchingsb​

Winter is closing in on Blackrock, and Sara’s fears are multiplying. It had been winter when she was attacked, but the extra layers made no difference. The wolf’s claws shredded her jacket like scissors cutting paper, her blood spilling deep red on the white snow. Now, even years later, the memory haunts her. It’s cold again in Blackrock, a new dusting of snow greeting her with every morning, and she swears she can hear howling at night.

She stifles her nerves as she drives to the vet clinic, lunch for her and Hutch in the passenger’s seat. Hutch had been at her bedside while she recovered from her attack, but she never had the guts to tell him what it really was, not after the doctors were so sure she’d imagined it. She is not a fool; she knows what she saw. Not a wolf, but something worse.

Sara parks her car, the old Charger spitting in protest, grabs the bag of sandwiches, and walks into the clinic. Joan waves her past the reception desk with little more than a hello. Sara smiles in return and lets herself into Hutch’s office.

“I brought lunch,” she says in lieu of a greeting, sidling into one of the faux-leather chairs and dropping the Buckshot bag on his desk. Their usual. Sara’s order has hardly changed since she was seventeen.

“How are you?” She asks as she starts digging through the bag, pulling out napkins and silverware and their sandwiches wrapped in foil. She pops a fry in her mouth, surprised to see it held up on the ride over. “I haven’t seen you since the party.”

Carol doesn’t even have time to warn him. And the fact alone — that he has set up an elaborate scheme with his secretary should his best friend stop by — makes the guilt in his stomach churn and then latch on hard. Hutch has never felt more like an asshole than he does at this moment. Sara is placing his favorite order from Buckshot down on his desk. It’s a gesture of kindness, of friendship he doesn’t deserve.

He does not deserve Sara. He’s not sure he ever has or ever will.

Keeping the knowledge of the wolves a secret from his closest friend has been hard at the best of times. But now, as the temperature drops and the wolves threaten to crowd in where they cannot be explained away? Well, now It’s almost impossible to go a full conversation without some sort of slip up.

So Hutch has taken to hiding. Throwing himself into work he doesn’t really have, and half-baked excuses. He knows Sara can see through them, but she hasn’t pushed yet. And he’s been so grateful.

Until now. 

The smile that greets his face is not faked or forced. Seeing Sara has always lifted his spirits, even when the guilt threatens to nauseate him. Hutch pushes back from the work at his desk; folds his arms over his chest as he settles into a more comfortable position. “So you did,” he chuckles, reaching forward to pick up his own food.

He’s barely got a bite in his mouth when she prods deeper, and he stills slightly. She must know he’s been avoiding her. Avoiding Sam as well. It’s just easier. “I’ve been busy.” He cannot look her in the eye, instead suddenly makes a show of searching for a straw.

[sagamemes]

spots to kiss.   since y’all like kissing prompts—and who wouldn’t, honestly–so have a collection of places to press your lips to. many of these work perfectly fine for platonic or familiar affection while some are a bit steamier, though what counts as what is of course naturally dependent on the muses and the context. send ‘ SPOTS TO KISS + [number] ’ to kiss my muse there, or with # for dealer’s choice. context and description allowed and encouraged. feel free to use the last option  ( 57 )  to give the kiss on any fantasy or scifi body parts not listed here.

a kiss on the top of the head.

a kiss to hair.

a kiss on the forehead.

a kiss on the space between eyebrows.

a kiss on the temple.

a kiss on the cheek.

a kiss on the eyelid or the undereye.

a kiss on the nose

a kiss on the ear.

a kiss on that space where jaw connects.

a kiss on the corner of the mouth.

a kiss on the cupid’s bow.

a kiss on the lips.

a kiss on the chin.

a kiss on the jawline.

a kiss on the back of the neck.

a kiss on the underside of the jaw.

a kiss on the throat.

a kiss on the side of the neck.

a kiss on where the back of the neck turns to shoulder.

a kiss above the collarbone.

a kiss along the collarbone.

a kiss on the space between collarbones.

a kiss on the shoulder.

a kiss on the bicep.

a kiss on the forearm.

a kiss on the elbow.

a kiss on the outside of the wrist.

a kiss on the inside of the wrist.

a kiss on the back of the hand.

a kiss on the palm.

a kiss on a finger.  ( which one? )

a kiss on the side of the ribs.

a kiss on the shoulder blade.

a kiss on the space between shoulder blades.

a kiss along the curve of the spine.

a kiss on the upper back.

a kiss on the lower back.

a kiss on the sternum.

a kiss on a pec / breast.

a kiss under the breast.

a kiss on where the sternum ends.

a kiss on the stomach.

a kiss on the navel.

a kiss on the hipbone.

a kiss on the ‘v’.

a kiss on the front of the thigh.

a kiss on the back of the thigh.

a kiss on the inner thigh.

a kiss on the knee.

a kiss on the calf.

a kiss on the ankle.

a kiss on the heel.

a kiss on the foot.

a kiss on a toe.

a kiss on an nsfw body part not listed here.  ( where? )

a kiss on a sfw body part not listed here.  ( where? )

[hutchingsb]

theofawn​:

location: whitegrass barn time: dec 7th, 10:15 p.m. with: @hutchingsb​

theo, admittedly, had too much to drink. luckily, she was still on her feet. she’d been on her feet most of the night. there had been a few breaks here and there to sit and catch her breath, but for the most part dancing had been the focal point of her evening. she’d always loved dancing, but rarely had an opportunity to do so. may as well take advantage of the opportunity. “hutch!” the familiar face came into view. “hutch come dance with me!”

There is a whirlwind of energy coming hurtling towards him, and Hutch? Well, he isn’t quite sure how to react. Theo is all smiles and booze, and it makes him smile for the first time since Charlie had spoken to him and Will. The news she had shared with the two of them had slowed him down. A weight so heavy in his soul that he had forgotten the whole point of this party is to have fun. She’s in front of him and Hutch can’t help but laugh before taking a swig of his beer.

“Alright, alright.” He tries to make it sound as if she is forcing his hand. But they both know that she is doing him a favor. Pulling him out of his funk, albeit a bit more forcibly than he generally would have liked. “You lead the way!”

[hutchingsb]

DATE: December 7th, idk enough time that hutch is tipsy LOCATION: Wherever u are baybee AVAILABILITY: closed for @basswccd

The opening lines of I Wanna Dance with Somebody hit him like a punch in the gut. The pair on stage have slowed down the song considerably, and it is certainly more folksy in tone, but it’s the same damn song. It’s their song. After all this time, Hutch still can’t let that silly fact go. It feels harder to breathe, and he wonders how much of it is the pain that is wrapping its way through his chest and how much of it is the booze that heats him from the inside. Rather subconsciously, he has drifted from Sara’s side. The attractive man on stage falling into the chorus, as his partner backs him up with softer ‘oh’s. If he closed his eyes, he could almost be in Sam’s kitchen again.

But he can’t close his eyes, not when they’ve trained in on the man in question. Without much thought, his feet are shuffling forward towards the corner Sam is standing. He feels like an idiot. He can almost feel Sara’s gaze boring into the back of his neck. But he can’t not. Not when it’s this song, and he’s had more than a couple of drinks.

“Hey,” he’s in front of his friend more quickly than he thought he would be. And faced with the man’s face, Hutch isn’t sure what exactly he’s doing or where he wants this to go. “Nice song choice, huh?”

[hutchingsb]

DATE: December 7th, around 8pm LOCATION: The Bar AVAILABILITY: closed for @loganjaimes

It’s funny, being this side of the bar bench. Hutch thought he’d be more put off than he actually feels. Perhaps he missed his true calling, staying in Blackrock his whole life tending bar at the Ugly Mug. The idea makes him want to cringe as much as his heart longs for something that simple. He’s proud of the man he’s become. Or, at least, he tries to be. But how different would it have been if he never left his hometown at all? How much would have changed? And if he ultimately made it back to Blackrock, did it matter that he left at all?

He doesn’t think having an existential crisis behind a bar is exactly what he signed up for. The Whitegrass’s might not be too pleased with his current performance. With a small sigh, he schooled his features and looked up only to be greeted with a familiar face. Hutch couldn’t stop the smirk from spreading across his features. 

“Never thought you’d see me this side of the bar, huh?”

[hutchingsb]

Will: She heaves a sigh of relief when he answers. "Thank God. Hutch. I need your help," she explains. She's talking fast, an edge of panic to her voice, but she's articulate, and not leaving room for argument.

Hutch: The tone of her voice has him sitting upright in bed, any hint of sleepiness in his body evaporating quickly. "What do you need?" He doesn't think about it any further, just knows he needs to do what he can.

[hutchingsb]

Will: She doesn't waste any time. As soon as she hangs up with Charlie she's dialing Hutch. She doesn't know who else to go to, who else can do this. "Pick up, pick up, pick up.." she mutters, tapping her foot anxiously.

Hutch: The sound of his phone startles him awake, the ringer too loud in his ears. His first guess is an emergency call, but Will's name and number come blearily into view. "Will?" His voice is still groggy from sleep.

[nightynightflash-deactivated202]

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[hutchingsb]

basswccd‌:

Keep reading

Anxiety threatens to tear him apart at the seams. It inches closer to his heart at every slight he imagines. Is it his ears or does Sam sound distant, edging further and further away? Is it his hands or can he feel Sam’s hesitance, a stiff shoulder and a hand pressed out?  Isn’t all these imagined slights what got them here in the first place? Isn’t that what let Hutch allow for the space for Sam to feel less than here? But how can Sam still feel so far away when Hutch can feel him so solidly under his lips?

Courage sweeps through him and he has to act. He shifts, a thigh moves between Sam’s legs and he can almost feel the want there. It makes his breath hitch, he sucks down too hard on a spot by his friend’s collarbone. It’s too much and not enough. He can still hear the words floating in the air. I want you to.

Sam has never been a creature of want. Hutch isn’t sure he has ever been either. But it’s different here. It’s different now. His mouth drifts upwards to the spot just below Sam’s ear and he mouths at it. He’s lost to thought, it’s only instinct that drives him now. Sam has to feel real, has to feel here. With him. Hutch rocks forward. His hands twitch at Sam's hips, eyes squeezed shut as his own hips grind upward chasing friction he can’t quite get. His own cock half hard in suddenly too tight pants. But as he grinds down, lips parting on a moan against Sam's neck, it feels like enough.

[hutchingsb]

chcstnut‌:

Every shitty town’s got a watering hole somewhere, and Gus finds it within a week of being in Blackrock. It takes him another week to work up the courage to step across the threshold, and the minute he enters, he has to ask himself why he needed to be riled up in the first place, when it’s really just four walls and a couple people slinging drinks, like every other country town bar. Maybe because a six pack of beer from the local corner store in his shitty, poorly ventilated extended-stay hotel wasn’t really doing it for him. Yeah. That feels about right.

There are a thousand trails around Blackrock, and half of them aren’t even tread upon, and now he’s gonna have to walk ‘em. Just the concept makes him want to rip his own hair out, but there’ll be no finding out what happened to Addison unless all the dots get connected.

He’s halfway done with his beer, and it’s still cold, and he doesn’t really wanna look, exactly, at what that says about him. So he’s just not going to. He’s running through his mental itinerary instead, trying to parse out just what it is he needs to be doing tomorrow when the sun rises. Files, mostly. Trip around town. Calling into Helena again and seeing what the hell is up with the fingers in the shirt.

And then Gus hears what might be the worst pickup line he’s had to bear witness to in a while. It’s not like he’s going to bars to get hit on, these days, not with other things on deck for priority, but still, it takes him by surprise. He sets his beer down on the wood-top counter, turns to look, and – oh. Handsome. Alright. Not so bad, he supposes. “–Hey,” he tries, and that’s a start, that’s a start, “Is it a good kind of remember or a bad one, you think?” If he gives the stranger a quick up-and-down, not too long, not too short, just an acknowledgement, well, that’s his business.

This would be easier, he knows, if the burn of alcohol had a much stronger hold on him. He would feel less foolish, less like a child tripping on his words in front of a boy he found cute. The confidence he’d faked moments earlier would be real and he wouldn’t be inwardly cringing as his mind replayed his words over and over again.

Maybe he should just turn tail and run.

But the man in question throws him an out, and Hutch hates how it makes his breath rush out in one go. It’s been a minute since he’s gone through this song and dance. Not when Sam used to be just a phone call away. But he hates how hollow that feels. How needy that makes him, how much he feels as if he’s taking too much. But he almost hates this more. This awkwardness as he looks into dark brown eyes and tries not to put his foot in his mouth.

Hutch offers up a small chuckle, something to put his nerves at ease. He takes a longer swig of his beer than necessary. Tries not to make a show of his lips around the bottle, he’s not drunk enough for that. He keeps his eyes trained on the man. Maybe he’s not the only one who’s out of practice? He pretends he doesn’t see the way their gaze drags over him. He might have done the same, if he hadn’t already looked. Hutch signals for another drink. “A good kind.” The words are soft and he looks away in mild embarrassment. “You gonna hold me to that very bad line, huh?” He says when another drink reaches his hand and he can feel the object give him confidence again. “I’m Hutch, by the way.”