#butter made
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siblings in horror: ride-or-die edition
the strangers: prey at night | nope | house of wax | the lost boys
codependent | blood-soaked | haunted | damned | dumb-ass
#alternative title: survivor's club#feel the need to put a huge disclaimer wrt the respective quality of these movies#watch nope for scares w excellent depth. watch house of wax to see chad michael murray fight to the death on a bed made of peanut butter.#the strangers: prey at night#nope 2022#house of wax#the lost boys#horror#my art#siblings in horror
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partially based off another true story of when my primary school took us on a school camp and the camp offered just bread and butter and it was the fucking shit. absolutely the best food they gave us. and it was just white bread and butter. not toasted.
#in stars and time#isat memes#isat siffrin#isat odile#idk why i made her look so fucking... horrified actually. but apparently just bread and butter scares odile. shrugs
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My dumbass Little Brother: Hey you wanna see what I made in welding? I think you'd appreciate it
Me, smug (I reccomended the class) but expecting some modgepodge bullshit l will smile and insist is great: Yeah show me what you got!!
THEN THE MOTHERFUCKER PULLS OUT THIS SHIT-
Edit- For those who asked, yes they are (sorta) functional. Aka he has learned how to chunk them at trees but also you have to throw them very specifically to not stab yourself
#HE MADE BATARANGS#AND THEY ARE SHARP#AND HAVE H E F T#Like holy fuck#I remember you saying your favoriye color was “clear”#and cutting yourself on butter knifes#NOW YOU’RE DOING THIS??#Im so proud and yet so jealous#batman#featuring- Sunny hand#and one brother sorta reveal
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There is straight up no reason why eggs, cheese, rice, or beans should cost anyone anything at all. They are all produced in such an enormous surplus that the current businesses associated with them are more like vestigial remnants of capitalism than actually needed.
#Huge L for society that religious/government institutions haven't made bread milk butter cheese eggs rice and beans free to all yet#We should be a type 1 civilization by now
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so many apple desserts that are too cowardly to lean into their malic nature
#made the nyt cooking apple whoopie pies#they're pretty good and i do not taste the apple#despite there being apple butter AND concentrated apple cider in there
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how i imagine fans of south park characters 2 look like cuz i love making fun of myself so much
cartman fans go both wayz
#art#digital art#doodle#south park#artist#south park fanart#kyle broflovski#stan marsh#eric cartman#butters stotch#sp fanart#sp kyle#sp stan#sp cartman#sp butters#sh implied#not made with any ill will...it iz satire#it also just makez fun of ME#fanart#sp fandom
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I used to think all of them were women.. UNTIL I HEARD THEIR VOICES
#my meme#madz rambles#feminine boy#crk#cookie run#cookie run kingdom#peach blossom cookie#peach blossom crk#affogato cookie#crk affogato#butter roll cookie#butter roll crk#clover cookie#cream unicorn cookie#cream unicorn crk#lilac cookie#madeleine cookie#<— I have the same name as him and I also happen to absolutely love madeleines#plum cookie#eclair cookie#<— I used to eat eclairs in the morning often as a little kid and I always think of those times when I see him#tag talk#ik I made a meme similar to this but idc I love femboys#funny enough me thinking they were women just to later find out they weren’t made me love them even more
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I made two versions of the peanut butter failboat vid's thumbnail. Which is YOUR favorite chat?
#he really liked the non-shaded kirby doodle I made there so he wanted me to repurpose it for the thumbnail#kirby-fied dougdoug#kirby#failboat#dougdoug#hal laboratory#nintendo#peanut butter#fanart#clip studio paint
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tim puts bloodstained gloves into his microwave and bernard's chef-senses start tingling
#tim: *rewires a kitchen appliance as a vigilante gadget*#bernard waking up in a cold sweat: something is wrong#so fucking funny that they made tim have a chef boyfriend when everything about his kitchen is fucking unusable#ik bear feels like gagging everytime he walks into tim's kitchen#bear trembling and shaking like a newborn deer: tim baby why is the only knife you have a butter knife?#bear retching: tim loml why do you only have 3 cups#bear stonefaced when the oven light switch he pressed turns the oven into some kinda GPS: so just fuck my quiche then huh?#tim drake#bernard dowd#timbern#timber#dc#td:r spoilers#td:r#1k#2k
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boys in dti
making more now just can't make up my mind
more outfits- kenny turned out mid so i made princess kenny to make up for it LMAO
#south park#kyle broflovski#tweek tweak#craig tucker#stan marsh#i've made kenny like three times and i just don't know#eric cartman#butters stotch#kenny mccormick
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I’m literally drooling over the thought of sensitive Bucky whimpering and whining while fucking your tits and thighs he’s so pathetic and needy all he wants is to make you feel good and to fill you with his cum even if it overstimulates him
Okay, tit fucking is great and all but thigh fucking is SO underrated in my humble opinion. Could just be the fact I've got a small chest though lmao
It's so fun when you're already really into it and the insides of your thighs are all slick. I feel like Bucky would lose it, getting to see your face and look in your eyes and enjoy your body.
It's a nice one to do while laid on your side, facing each other. Although the angle isn't quite right for him to slip inside you, it's fun to explore the other ways your bodies can steal pleasure from one another.
"This isn't going to work, sweetheart." You can't help but laugh, having already tried everything you can think of to make the height difference work. There's no way to keep this romantic and intimate in that position because there's just no chance of aligning your bodies properly to allow him to press inside you.
"Maybe not. But it feels nice anyway." His eyes flutter shut, gliding his dick over the smooth, soft, warm insides of your thighs, encouraged by how slick and easy your arousal makes the movement.
You adjust yourself to bring your other thigh on top of his length, closing him in on both sides.
You're wet enough that friction doesn't impede his movement too much and there's something oddly romantic about it. Maybe it's his hand smoothing the back of your head or his other hand up your back, pulling your body closer to his.
It's so intimate, watching his face as he whines your name, rutting senselessly against your thighs. The little flush to his cheeks is beautiful and you can't resist kissing the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. The thick duvet on top of you both, coupled with your combined body heat means the room is far hotter than you'd planned.
You take a second to reach between your bodies, spreading your wet folds and readjusting his length, letting him drag his cock against your neglected clit with each stroke and oh, that's pretty mind-blowing.
"O-oh my God." He whines, desperately fucking himself against your wet cunt, rather than into it. It's a different kind of pleasure to being inside you and while they're not comparable sensations, it doesn't stop this from feeling fantastic.
"Fuck, that's good." You groan, rolling your hips to meet his. Your fingers dip between you once more, gathering some of your slick arousal, using it to glide your fingertips over the underside of his shaft and over his balls.
"Holy shit, that's - fuck." Bucky's hardly got a coherent thought left in his head. He's closed in on both sides by your wet, soft thighs and now your fingers are giving him a different sensation underneath while pressing him against your soaked sex.
"I know, baby. Feels good, doesn't it?" Your fingertips trail lightly back and forth over the underside of his shaft, focusing on the inch or so beneath the tip.
"I can't... I need to cum." He groans, thrusting frantically, clinging to your body to keep you close. Within a few seconds, you feel his dick pulse under your fingertips, his cum coating the inside of your thighs in hot, thick, messy spurts.
He doesn't waste a second, kissing your forehead before kissing your neck and whispering "Good girl. Now let me watch you get yourself off with my cum on your fingertips."
#asks answered <3#becca writes spice#anon#needy!bucky#Bucky Barnes x reader smut#bucky barnes smut#sub!bucky#was this one something I've been fortunate enough to try? Absolutely.#and has it bounced around in my head ever since?? yep#I've got so many 💦sports asks#and I've been really hesitant to answer them bc I have people I know irl on here now#but honestly if my interests so far haven't freaked you out#those probably won't either#I made the best overnight oats last night I've been thinking about them all day#white chocolate chunks with raspberries and peanut butter#with oat milk#and I'm using that to distract me from the fact I'm locked out of my work emails and I can't do my Sunday evening email clear up#it's freaking me out that I can't get into them#that'll mean I have so much to do tomorrow morning#I'll probably lose my hour home on the train tomorrow trying to catch up#I love my hour to work and my hour home from work on the train#that's my me time#where I read my silly little book and chill
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Noticing (M, cold)
Ok, so I got an idea and ran with it and it came out as 4.5k words with no sneezing until 2.5k words in (apologies). But this was a super fun write! In it, Reed and Greyson are newly moved in together and Greyson realizes Reed has some quirks he didn't know about. Sick Greyson, if you make it all the way to the snz then I promise he is pretty miserable by the end lmao. I hope you all enjoy, I know I've been MIA for a few weeks, I'm hoping to be around more but in the meantime I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one. Anyway, enjoy!
CW: Male snz, cold, some coughing. A lil relationship angst. Nothing too crazy in this one.
Noticing
The moment they moved in together, Greyson realized that Reed was… let’s just say a different breed of human than he was used to cohabitating with.
This wasn’t to say that a different breed was bad; quite the opposite, in most ways that mattered. Every roommate Greyson ever had could have been affectionately referred to as a swamp garbage monster from hell; dishes were done by Greyson and only him, and that was when he could actually get to them. Laundry littered the floor of the apartment, and not just the bedrooms but the living room and even kitchen floors, and the fridge would’ve been better classified as a biomedical waste bin.
Then there had been his brief stint of life with Collin. Collin wasn’t a swamp monster, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a monster at all; Collin was what Greyson called the ‘everything-in-its-place’ monster. There wasn’t a single day that went by in their month-long living partner stint where Collin wasn’t berating Greyson about his toothbrush being on the wrong side of the sink, or his shoes being on the wrong side of the closet. As disgusting as it was, Greyson knew that if push came to shove he’d pick a million garbage roommates over a single monster of Collin’s variety.
Greyson had made it a point throughout his late twenties and into his thirties to live alone if he could, even if it meant taking the train an hour one way to work every day. He’d enjoyed his time alone, having everything where he wanted it, a home that most would call a bachelor pad, but without all the grime. Having something just for himself, especially after the disaster that was Collin, had felt safe. Comfortable. Easy.
The decision to move in with Reed had felt easy and comfortable too when he’d agreed to do it, though. It had felt safe, and he knew it was; it was just hard to give up the life he was used to, especially since he was once again moving into someone else’s space. The new apartment was… incredible. But it was Reed’s.
Reed’s life revolved almost completely around his apartment, Greyson quickly realized. His boyfriend worked from home, and worked a lot – there were nights when Greyson would stumble out of bed at three a.m. to pee, only to realize Reed was in his office typing away.
“If I get an idea, I have to write it out,” Reed had explained one morning when Greyson confronted him about it. “If I wait and go back to bed, it’ll be gone.”
Greyson could understand this; after all, he kept a notebook on him at all times for writing down ideas for menus or recipes. Creative force struck when it struck, he supposed. What he couldn’t understand was the absolutely insane schedule his boyfriend stuck to during the day.
“Honey, you don’t work from home so it’s hard for you to understand,” Reed had said when Greyson asked about the hour-by-hour, day-by-day schedule Reed kept on a bulletin board over his desk. “You really have to keep yourself on task in this line of work.”
“Yeah, I get that, babe,” Greyson said. “But I mean… you’re scheduling bathroom breaks. You work next to your bathroom.”
Reed had shrugged. “Sometimes I forget.”
Sometimes you forget?? Greyson found himself turning this idea over and over in his head the day after his boyfriend had uttered it. When Elijah asked him what he was so distracted by, Greyson couldn’t help but ask, “Have you ever forgotten to go to the bathroom?”
“What the fuck kind of question is that?” Elijah shot back. “Remind me to not ask you what you’re thinking about ever again.”
The schedule didn’t just apply to his work, though; Reed had everything scheduled. A cleaner came every Tuesday at nine a.m. sharp, no exceptions except for holidays. On the first Friday of each month, a man came to change their air filters. Was this a service provided by Reed’s fancy-schmancy apartment? Greyson had asked off-handedly the second month he lived there. Reed had raised an eyebrow at the question.
“Of course not,” he said. “I schedule it.”
“But… why? It’s not like you have any pets. I can change the air filters when they need to be changed,” Greyson offered. Reed’s lips pressed together at this offering, an indication that what he wanted to say and what he would would be two very different things.
“Let’s just keep it the way it is, baby,” he said. “So neither of us forget.”
It wouldn’t have mattered if Greyson forgot something, though, because Reed was not only on top of everything, he was ahead of everything. If Greyson forgot to throw his boxers in the dirty clothes when he got in the shower, they were in the hamper before the steam settled. The first time Reed made him dinner and Greyson offered to clean up after, he was shocked to find that there wasn’t a single dish in the sink to contend with. Even the counters were spotless.
None of this was to say that Greyson felt he’d moved in with a stranger; he knew that Reed was particular, Type A, and just a touch anal retentive before he’d moved in. He just hadn’t realized quite how intense the situation was.
“I don’t see the issue,” Elijah said when Greyson casually brought up the situation over drinks one night. “That sounds like a dream living situation. It’s like you have a free butler. Is he being an asshole about doing everything? It’s not like a Collin situation, is it?”
Greyson took a long pull from his whiskey, signaled the bartender for another. “No,” he said, turning towards his friend, “that’s exactly why it’s weird. He doesn’t say anything about it. I could probably smash all the plates in the cabinet, shred his blankets and shove them down the toilet and then take a shit in our bed and he’d have it cleaned up by the time I got home from work. No questions asked.”
Elijah pressed his lips together, thinking. “I just don’t see how any of this is bad.”
“I’m not saying it’s bad. I’m saying it’s weird.”
“Like you don’t have any weird quirks,” Elijah said, nodding at the bartender’s gesture to pour him another whiskey as well. “C’mon, Grey. Be serious.”
Greyson rubbed a hand down his face. “Yeah, I mean obviously. I’ve just, like… I’ve never lived with anyone like this. I feel like I’m tiptoeing around the house. Remember that Disney movie from way back? Smart House?”
“You are constantly forgetting that I am ten years older than you, asshole. No, I don’t remember fucking Smart House I was busy paying taxes when it came out.”
The chef flipped off his friend, laughing in earnest. “Whatever. It’s like the house is watching me, is what I mean. Which it isn’t, Reed isn’t watching me, obviously, it’s just… a totally different way of living. I don’t know.” Defeated, he knocked back the drink and shrugged, looking down. A hand slid over to pat his arm.
“You love him?” Elijah asked when Greyson looked up at him. A flush bloomed on Greyson’s face, prompting a laugh from Elijah. “Yeah,” the GM said, “you love him. So just accept him for this. It’s a weird quirk, yeah, but I mean it’s better than the alternative.”
“Swamp monster being the alternative?”
“Collin being the alternative,” Elijah corrected. Greyson shuddered. “Exactly.”
That was where he landed; he’d just accept the schedules, and the clean-freak weirdness, and the anticipatory service that would put a five-star hotel to shame. Greyson loved Reed, quirks and all, after all.
There was, however, one quirk Greyson hadn’t realized his boyfriend had – not until three months into living together.
On a Monday in May, Greyson woke up to the sound of Reed on the phone.
This was hardly new; Reed was on the phone near-constantly on days he worked, talking to magazines and news sites, interviewing other chefs and restaurant owners in the city. At first, Greyson assumed this was one of those calls – that is, until he walked into the kitchen and began eavesdropping.
“Thanks for understanding, Melissa. Yep, should be all good by next week, I appreciate it. Mmhmm. I’ll Zelle the partial payment now. Thanks again, hun, see you next week. Buh-bye.”
Greyson raised an eyebrow as Reed hung up the phone. “Was that Melissa the cleaning woman?” Reed nodded, penning something into his day planner.
“Mmhmm,” he said, looking up at his boyfriend and smiling. “Why? Good morning, by the way.”
“Morning,” Greyson said, peeking into Reed’s planner. “Were you calling her off for tomorrow?”
“Yes…?” Reed said, drumming his fingers on the table. “Is that okay?”
“Obviously it’s okay,” Greyson said as he made a coffee in their Keurig. “I mean, I’m just surprised. You’ve never called her off, she comes like fuckin’ clockwork. Do you have some sort of plans?”
Reed shifted uncomfortably on his seat. “Um,” he said, closing the planner. “Sort of.”
Pouring creamer into his coffee, Greyson burst out in a laugh. “Sort of? I’ve lived with you for months, baby. You’ve never sort of had a plan. I’d be shocked if you hadn’t planned your own birth for a specific day.”
“Don’t be silly. No one would ever choose to have a Christmas birthday.”
“Mmm, fair enough,” Greyson said, sitting next to his boyfriend. “Sooo… what’s the plan?”
Again, Reed seemed uncomfortable. “You’re going to think I’m weird if I say it,” he admitted. Greyson snorted out a laugh.
“My love,” he said, cupping Reed’s chin, “that ship has sailed. You are very weird, and I love that about you. Now tell me why you called off Melissa, throwing a wrench in your otherwise-perfectly-curated day.”
Reed pressed his lips together. Then, quietly: “You’re getting sick.”
Greyson reeled back as if Reed had pushed him. “What?” he asked, dumbfounded.
Immediately, Reed set to explaining: “Okay, okay, I know this is bizarre but… um… okay, the explanation is going to sound even more bizarre, I’m now realizing, but you have, um, a tell. When you’re getting sick. And I know that sounds weird or invasive, but I just noticed it last night so I figured I would call off Melissa so that tomorrow you can just sleep instead of, like, listening to the vacuum all day. That’s all.”
The apartment was quiet then. “What’s the tell?” Greyson asked after a long pause.
“Grey, please don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad, I’m… I don’t even know what I am, honestly. Freaked out?”
“Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Reed moaned, putting his head between his arms on the table. “I’m so fucking embarrassed.” He lifted his head then, his face red. “Please don’t be upset?”
The wind had been taken out of Greyson’s sails. “I’m really not… upset. Just tell me the tell.”
“You’re mad.”
“I’m not. Tell me why you think I’m getting sick.”
Reed sighed, looking down at his planner. “I just… like details. That’s all.”
“Reed, for God’s sake just tell me.”
“Okay!” Reed said, his embarrassment turning to frustration. “Okay. It’s just… ugh this sounds so weird. Okay, so like… you start to say a couple days before that some food that you love tastes weird, even though it doesn’t. This time it was an orange, you said it tasted rotten - I tried it, it didn’t. Then you’re super cold and moody, you wear your jacket to work even though it isn’t cold. That happened yesterday, then you came home and refused a drink. Those are all tells. So I figured by today when you got home from work, you’d be feeling shitty.” Reed shrugged, an attempt at being blasé that failed miserably with the catch in his voice that meant his embarrassment was about to spill over into tears. “That’s all.”
For a moment, Greyson just nodded – one continuous nod that he couldn’t seem to stop or accompany with words. “Okay,” he said, standing. “Um… I need to go to work. Can we talk about this later?”
“Greyson,” Reed said, desperation clear in his voice. “I promise I didn’t mean this to be so weird. I just… every time you’ve been sick, it’s been the same thing. I’m sorry. I notice patterns, it’s… one of my things, I guess. I don’t want you to think I’m a freak.”
“Reed,” Greyson said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I need a minute with this one. Okay? That’s it. I’m not mad, I just need… a minute.”
They stood in silence then, a stand-off with no winner or loser. “Okay,” Reed said finally. “Have a good day.”
Greyson went to the bedroom then, put on his work clothes, and gathered his backpack. What the ever loving fuck, he thought as he left without saying goodbye, was that?
***
“I mean, yeah, boss, that’s kind of weird I guess.”
This was not the reaction he’d been hoping for from Matt. “What do you mean kind of weird?” Greyson said, throwing his hands in the air. “He’s, like, stalking my habits. Keeping tabs on me. It’s insanity, Matt.”
The sous just shrugged, noncommittal, and continued chopping onions. “First off, I think you’re blowing this out of proportion. He’s watching your habits because he cares about you. It’s called intimacy. And second, I don’t know how to tell you this, Chef,” he said, glancing up, “but you do kind of have a tell when you’re getting sick.”
What kind of fucking nega-universe am I living in right now? Greyson thought, slamming his knife on the cutting board. “I do not have a tell,” he said. Matt glanced to the side, silent. “I don’t, Matt.”
“You don’t what?” Mark glided into the conversation, popping a cherry tomato from his boyfriend’s prep station into his mouth. Greyson took this opportunity gladly.
“Mark, glad you’re here,” Greyson said, turning away from his sous. “Random question: can you tell if Mark is getting sick?”
The floor manager furrowed his eyebrows together, looking Matt over. “Are you sick?” he asked his boyfriend.
“No,” Matt said. “But Greyson is.”
“Oh, my God no I am not,” Greyson insisted, throwing his arms over his head. “Never mind, Mark. Go.”
“Snippy,” Mark said. A knowing look passed between Mark and Matt then. “I’ll let Elijah know.”
No shot in hell this is my life, Greyson thought, looking wildly around the prep kitchen. “What the fuck is happening right now? I’m – HRRTSHH-ue!”
Silence fell over the back kitchen as Greyson ducked into his elbow. Then Elijah, from the office up front: “Oh, fuck off, I knew you were getting sick!”
Matt and Mark cackled while Greyson attempted to quell the volley of sneezes he knew were on that first’s heel. “You guys are asshoo – assholessITSZCH-ue! Hh - ! HETSZH-ue!”
“Bless, Chef,” Matt said, still laughing. The blessing made Mark literally double over, unable to catch his breath. Greyson glowered at the two of them as he yanked a handful of paper towels out of the dispenser and blew his nose. This is fucking humiliating, he found himself thinking.
“Shit, sorry Chef,” Mark said, finally catching his breath. Matt wiped a hysterical tear from his eye. “It’s just… I mean, it’s always so easy to tell when you’re sick. Can I get you some medicine from up front?” “No, Mark, you cannot get me some medicine,” Greyson grumbled. “You can go to the front and do your fucking job, though.”
Greyson could see Mark bite his cheek to keep from laughing again. “Yes, sir,” he said, disappearing from the back kitchen. On a roll, Greyson whirled around on his heels to point at his sous.
“And you,” he said, “finish up this prep. I’m going to the office.”
Matt just nodded, the smile on his face betraying his thoughts. “Yes, Chef,” he said.
As he stomped, defeated, to the front office, Greyson checked his phone. One new message.
11:52AM
Reed
hi, love. just wanted to make sure you’re having a good day. sorry again for my weirdness. love you.
God-fucking-dammit.
***
It had been a running joke from the time he was a kid.
Greyson, the go-til-you-drop expert. Greyson, the workhorse. Greyson, who wouldn’t know he’d been hit by a bus until someone else forced him into an ambulance. It was weird, he guessed, but it was what it was; he didn’t realize he was sick until it hit him because he was working. He was busy. That was how it always had been.
“Would you get in the office and take some fucking Dayquil, please?” Elijah plucked the knife from Greyson’s hand as he ducked under the prep station to stifle a flurry of coughs into his jacket. “We already said we’re sorry for embarrassing you, now go take something.”
Unwilling to give in, Greyson just shook his head and yanked his knife back from Elijah’s hands. “You didn’t embarrass mbe because I’mb ndot sick.”
“Uh huh,” Elijah said, crossing his arms. “Could you say that again?”
“Say what again?”
“‘I’m not sick’.”
Greyson rolled his eyes. “I’mb ndot sick.”
“‘I’mb ndot sick’,” Elijah parroted back, his consonants purposely dulled. “That’s crazy, that’s exactly how well people sound when they say that.”
Greyson’s face flamed. “Fuck off, Elijahhh – ahhTXSH-uhh!” An attempt to stifle a sneeze that immediately backfired. “HRSHH-ue! Huh -! HhhITSZCHH-ue!”
Taking pity, Elijah took the few steps to the office and grabbed a box of tissues. He placed it in front of the chef’s face and, begrudgingly, Greyson pulled out a few. “Bless you,” Elijah said, pointedly.
“You kndow what I miss,” Greyson asked, wiping his nose and sucking in, fruitlessly. Elijah raised his eyebrows as if to say, What? “I miss when I first started here and you were so clueless and self-involved that you didn’t ndotice I was walking around the kitchen with the fuckigg flu. I mbiss clueless Elijah. At least he wasn’t up mby ass twenty-four-seven.”
Elijah barked out a laugh. “You do not miss that,” he said. “You couldn’t even handle an afternoon of me not realizing you were sick. You were so downright offended that I hadn’t noticed you were sick that you literally went off on me. Please, Greyson. You can play the I’m-not-sick card all you want, but don’t pretend you don’t like the attention.”
At this, Greyson balked. “Are you calling mbe an attention whore?”
“Grey, of course I’m calling you an attention whore,” Elijah exploded, throwing his hands in the air. “Someone who isn’t an attention whore doesn’t turn a weird fight with his boyfriend into a day-long diatribe at work. You think Reed realized you were getting sick because he’s stalking your movements? Please, Grey. He realized it because you do the same damn thing every time – you sulk around work for a day or two, complaining about the thermostat being wrong in the kitchen. Your taste is off, and every dish Matt brings to you for editing doesn’t have enough salt. Then you come into work one day in a bad mood and seemingly out of nowhere start sneezing and coughing and shit. It’s like clockwork.”
The two of them stood there for a moment, silent. Despite it all, Greyson was in a bit of shock – was he really that obvious? How the fuck did everyone else realize he was sick before it ever even dawned on him? “It’s like that every time?” he asked, finally. Elijah nodded.
“Every time,” he said. “I thought you were always just trying to soft-launch your illness before it hit, get us all ready for a few days of you being an asshole.”
Was that what he was doing? Now Greyson was having a hard time even trusting his own brain – but no, that couldn’t have been his intention. He’d never even noticed before when he was getting sick. He figured that’s how everyone was; one day you’re fine, the next you’re on your ass.
“I’mb gonna keep it really real with you, Lij,” Greyson said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve ndever ndoticed that I did any of that. HRRTSHH-uhh! Fugck.” He grabbed another handful of tissues from the box beside him and wiped his nose. “I thought ‘getting sick’ was, like, a myth. You either are or you aren’t.”
Elijah closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You… are a different breed, Greyson Abbott,” he said, gathering himself. “You’ve never, like, taken inventory of how you’re feeling? Ever?”
“I mean, if I’mb forced to,” Greyson said, coughing into a fist. “Like ndow I am.”
“So you’re saying the only time you think about how you’re feeling is when you’re already down bad.”
“Uhh. Yes,” Greyson admitted, sniffling. “Pretty much.”
Elijah cracked his neck then, as if gearing up for a fight. “Get help, Grey,” he said, laughing. “That’s fucking crazy work.”
But it was true. From the time he was young, Greyson was busy. Sports as a teen, then restaurants the second he graduated – there simply wasn’t time to take inventory of how he was feeling. Taking inventory meant spending time thinking about how shitty things were, or could be, or would be eventually. In all honesty, Greyson had no interest in thinking about how or when things would all fall apart. They always did, eventually. No need to dwell on it.
Again, the two of them stood in silence, until finally Greyson broke the tension. “You said we have Dayquil?” he asked. Elijah just nodded.
“Want me to bring you some?”
“Yeah. Thanks, boss.”
***
By nine p.m., Greyson so done, if he were a steak you’d need a bone saw to cut through him.
“Huh-!” For the millionth time that evening, Greyson’s breath hitched painfully, and he folded completely in half to -
“HRRTSZHH-ue! Huh...hhITZHCHH-ue! ETSCHH-ue! Huh -! Hhnnn… Fuckigg – HRRETSZH-ue!”
“Bless, Chef,” the cooks called. Matt raised his eyebrows at his boss from behind the line.
“Ready to admit defeat yet?” he asked as another ticket printed. Fuck, Greyson thought, pulling the ticket. Yes, I fucking am.
“Order ind,” Greyson called, his voice dipping on the second word. “Two scallops, one ribeye. HRRTSHH-uhh!”
“Yes, Chef. Bless, Chef,” called the cooks.
Okay. Even he knew when it was time to call it.
“Mbatt, combe expo,” Greyson said, yanking his apron off. “I’mb going home, I’m fuckigg dying.”
Matt just nodded and walked around his coworkers to the other side of the line. “Feel better, Chef,” he said, pulling another ticket. “Order in.”
Greyson trudged to the office and slammed the door. Fucking Reed. Fucking Matt. Fucking Elijah, he thought, unbuttoning his coat and yanking his hoodie over his head. Just as he was about to open the door to leave, someone knocked timidly. “Come in, ndo one’s naked,” Greyson muttered.
Elijah opened the door and stood in the entry. “Admitting defeat?” he echoed the sous. Greyson rolled his eyes painfully.
“I guess,” he said, coughing into the sleeve of his jacket. “Gotta go face the all-seeing-eye at home. Can’t wait.” Elijah nodded, shifting from foot to foot as if weighing what he wanted to say next.
“Greyson,” Elijah said finally; gently, carefully. “I know what you’re used to. We all know what you’re used to, and it’s what Collin gave you. Neglect. Nothing. I get it, dude. You aren’t used to a partner really caring about you. But Reed? He’s like us, like me and Mark and Matt. He cares about you.” Elijah shrugged. “Let him.”
Even if he didn’t feel like shit, Greyson probably would’ve teared up. As it stood, he felt the tears fall down his face before he could even look away. “What happens whend he leaves?” he asked, his voice small. Elijah placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, looked him in the eye.
“What happens if he doesn’t?”
***
When he walked in the door, Greyson was surprised to find that the TV was on and Reed was nowhere to be found. The TV was almost never on in this apartment, and Greyson could almost always hear the click-clack of Reed’s keyboard when he walked in, no matter the time.
“Reed?” Greyson called, his voice straining. “Are you hombe?”
From the bedroom, Greyson heard a crash, then a “Fuck,” then suddenly Reed was standing in front of him in a t-shirt and pajama pants, looking very much not like his usual put-together self.
“Grey,” he said, throwing his arms around Greyson’s neck, “you came back.”
Greyson pulled back, looking at Reed’s face – had he been crying? “Of course I cambe back,” he said. “What do you meee – HRRTSCHH-ue! Fuck, ’scuse mbe.” Greyson wiped his nose on his jacket and Reed, ever-prepared, handed him a box of tissues from the entry table next to them.
“Bless you,” Reed said. “I mean… you never answered my text. You kinda stormed out this morning I figured… I don’t know. I had freaked you out too hard and you were done with me.” He shrugged, one hang wringing the other. “I’m sorry for being such a freak.”
Gently, Greyson pulled Reed’s hands away from one another, placed them on his own face. “Please don’t be sorry. You’re ndot a freak,” he said. “You’re just… you care. And I’mb ndot used to that. That’s on mbe, Reed. Ndot you. Caring, noticing… it’s a good thing.” He smiled then. “It’s something I admire about you. I’mb sorry I’ve never said it.”
Reed looked down, blushing. “You’re really warm,” he said, finally. Greyson coughed out a laugh.
“You’re also a bit of a prophet,” he said. “I feel like dog shit.”
Tutting, Reed moved one of his hands from Greyson’s cheek to his forehead. “Want me to get you some ibuprofen? Or I can make you tea, we have a ton, or let me run you a bath, or -”
“What I want,” Greyson cut him off, pulled him close, “is to go sit ond that couch. With you. And rot for the next few hours. Mbaybe order Doordash.” He coughed into his sleeve again, then, prompting Reed to attention once again.
“Shit, I should’ve made dinner or something, I honestly was just so worried you weren’t coming back I haven’t done anything today, I’m sorry baby I should’ve -”
“Hey,” Greyson said, pulling him back. “I just want you. I don’t want you to do sombething for mbe, or get something for mbe, or mbake something. I just want to be with you. Is that ok?”
Reed stopped in his tracks. “You don’t want anything?”
“Just you,” Greyson said. “And – HRRTSSH-ue! Snrf. And mbaybe the tissues.”
A smile spread across Reed’s face then. “I can handle that.”
#whiskeyswriting#snz#sickfic#snzfic#snzblr#coldfic#male cold#male snz#idk i just had fun with this one#i love delving more into everyone's personalities#and there are a bunch of quips in this one i personally enjoy and you all know quips are my bread and butter#is it good? who knows! all that matters is the friends we made along the way lmao
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zoro who is so caught off guard by sanji’s kinder actions towards him is one of my favorite tropes. sanji crafting him specialized post workout snacks personally adjusted for him but still down to fight and call him names. he’s still the biggest asshole zoro has ever had the displeasure of knowing, and he’s horribly considerate. he’s a little confused but doesn’t reject any of sanji’s specialized treats. it’s not like sanji is fawning and doting over him like he does nami, so zoro feels like he can cross off sanji actually liking him from his list of reasons as to why sanji is acting like this. but it’s still fucking strange..
meanwhile sanji is in his kitchen wondering how zoro hasn’t taken a damn hint yet
#i always thought sanji was really weird about showing affection to anybody who isnt nami or robin#bcz with them its just second nature like he likes them so much its so easy to shower them in love#meanwhile you have ZORO who is like#‘is that asshole trying to kill me?’#zoro who thinks its similar to when you get a dog excited to get into the car only for them to go to the vet#thinks sanji is ‘buttering him up’ for his own sick desire#sanji whose sick desire is literally just to make snacks for his crewmate as a display of care#doesnt even have to be romantic just wants to show a bit of appreciation#still tagging as zosan because. luv my babas#zoro: wtf is your problem#sanji who just made him lunch: MY problem??#zosan#one piece#txt#roronoa zoro#headcanon#sanji#vinsmoke sanji#zoro#prompt
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“Haven’t You Noticed (I’m a Star)” from Steven Universe works so ridiculously well for Leo
#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt headcanons#rottmnt leo#rise leo#listen it’s morning now and I haven’t slept so bear with me for the sudden unwarranted lyric analysis haha#a lotttt of the lyrics work so well for him#not even just the overall theme the words just work great#first lyric is literally ‘I can’t help it if I make a scene’ which is one to one with ‘Leo’s makin a scene’ from the rottmnt opening like-#‘I’m turning heads and I’m stopping traffic’ -> Leo has not made it a secret that he values his looks a LOT#-not just his looks but also his ability to get people’s attention#‘when I pose they scream when I joke they laugh’ -> I feel like this speaks for itself#-posing and joking for the crowd and himself#‘I’ve got them dazzled like a stage magician’ -> works both with Leo’s canonical love of magicians and his aptitude with tricks in general#‘well everybody needs a friend and I’ve got you and you and you’ -> I just think it’d be cute to imagine his friends here just as his bros#‘I got you and you and you’ = ‘my brainy guy my smashing guy and eats peanut butter with his fingers guy’#‘haven’t you noticed that I’m a star?’ -> Leo loves attention and especially loves when his feats and efforts are acknowledged#+ he loves glam rock and sci-fi and being a champ and - listen he has a LOT of star symbolism with him#‘haven’t you noticed I made it this far’ - Leo is well aware of how dangerous situations get and thinks himself only a part of a whole#-so hey it’s notable that he’s survived this long yeah?#‘now everyone can see me burning’ -> self-sacrificing with his family bearing witness + all his star and flame symbolism in general#+ how attention naturally goes to him - including bad attention where his mistakes are highlighted and burn bright#also even the limo lyric-#obviously this boy has never and will never own a limo but one of his main secondary colors IS pink so even that#okay that one is just a joke but he would#(on that note though I think the other colors the boys gravitate to outside THEIR color are fun to notice)#I don’t actually know too much about Steven universe beyond the songs and some eps but I like the music#and this just came to my tired mind so here you go anyone who’s interested#may draw something with these lyrics dunno yet#it’s a good song in any case even though it’s super short
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hi south park fans look what i made
#south park#butters stotch#south park butters#butters#kyle broflovski#kenny mccormick#eric cartman#stan marsh#also i made a greenscreen of it so i will probably make more
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we’re none of you fucking bitches going to tell me about the butter sculpture of arthur’s death ft. kilgharrah ?!?
#I HAD TO FIND THIS OUT FROM TWITTER DOT COM?!??#FUCKING BUTTER#HOW WAS I NOT MADE AWARE?!?#HOW IS THERE NOT POSTS CYCLING AROUND ABOUT ARTHURS DEATH SCULPTED IN FUCKING BUTTER#IM CRYING#bbc merlin
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