#I WANNA CHURN LIKE AMISH BUTTER!!!
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I spent the summer staying in
#I WANNA CHURN LIKE AMISH BUTTER!!!#Japanese Breakfast#psychopomp#crying in h mart#michelle zauner#embroidery
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i have two urges which always live inside of me, the urge to take raw meat into my mouth and shake it around like a dog shakes a chew toy and the urge to make homemade butter
#idk why but every time i see raw meat i feel feral#i wish raw meat wouldnt kill me if i ingested it cuz i wanna shake it in my mouth#like whenever me and bf are cooking together i mix the raw chicken bc he hates the feeling but i love it i want to eat the chicken raw#the butter thing thats just cuz i keep seeing tiktok videos of ppl churning butter and it looks fun to me idk i wanna cosplay as amish
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heft psychopomp one of the songs of all time
#i wanna churn like amish butter i want to move out of your way i want to know whats in your stomach if its the same dark and its too late !!#and the second verse. ough
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well the thing is i wanna churn like amish butter. i wanna move out of the way. i wanna find whats there in your stomach.
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so what if I do wanna churn like amish butter 🤷♀️
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i wanna churn like amish butter i wanna move out of your way i wanna find what’s there in your stomach if it’s the same dark and it’s too late what if it’s the same dark coming ??
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hi heres me projecting a sad thingy on steve. he secretly has a BIG thing for being called annoying, throughout his entire childhood his parents werent afraid of saying he was annoying or a bother, his friends growing up didnt hold back either, nancy said it too, even when she meant it in a cute way it still hurt. then the first time billy said it, except Billy was the only one who was able to catch the sudden switch, the switch from happy loud steve to quiet and dull.
“-and that’s when Tommy H. tried to pass the ball to George, but he wasn’t looking at it hit him in the head, and George started crying, and Tommy had to write him a note and now he can’t play outside during recess all week.” Steve was swinging his legs under the dinner table, sitting with his parents as they ate quietly.
He was recounting the daily second grade stories, pushing mushy vegetables around his plate.
His parents kept passing looks back and forth, looks Steve didn’t quite understand.
“And George doesn’t like Tommy, so I think that he-”
“Steven, I would like to enjoy my meal in peace, please.” His dad didn’t even look over at him.
“Uh, okay. Sorry, Dad.” He set his fork down, suddenly didn’t want to bother pretending eating his veggies. “May I be excused?” It was easier to simply retreat, go play in his room for the rest of the night.
Steve doesn’t like the way his dad looks at him sometimes.
It makes him feel bad inside. His dad simply waved a hand.
Steve took his plate into the kitchen, carefully placing it on the counter.
“He’s such a bother sometimes. Going on about the other children like it matters.”
“Richard, he’s a child.”
“And I don’t want him to grow into an adult that thinks it’s okay to annoy me people to death.”
Steve didn’t know what annoy means.
He asks his teacher the next day.
“To annoy someone means to irritate them. To bother them and make them angry.”
So, he irritated his father. He bothered him to the point where he was angry.
Steve didn’t speak the next night.
Or the next.
-
“Tommy, come on.”
Steve was not above whining.
“I wanna try it.”
Tommy had snuck a beer out of his dad’s stash in the fridge in the garage.
Tommy and Carol had each tried a sip, grimacing at the taste.
“I don’t thin you’re ready for it, Stevie. Still acting like a baby.”
They were fourteen, going into high school at the end of summer.
“Man, I am not. Just let me try it. I gotta get used tot he taste before we start going to parties.”
“No one’s gonna invite you to parties if you’re this annoying.”
The words stung, but Tommy passed him the beer while he said them, grinning lazily.
The beer tasted like shit.
Steve couldn’t discern it from the sour taste in his mouth that word left.
Annoying.
-
“Nancy,” Steve sang.
He was laying on her bed, his head flopped over the side, looking at her upside down. “Nancy.”
“Steve, I’ve gotta finish this.”
“Nancy, that essay’s due in like, a week.”
“I’ve got to finish this draft. Mrs. Lorraine said she’d read over it tomorrow and give me any pointers.” Steve rolled his eyes.
“You don’t need any pointers. You know she’s just gonna tell you it’s perfect.”
She was quiet.
“C’mon, Nance. Just lay with me for a little while. It’s been such a shitty week. Did I tell you my parents came home?”
“Yes. A few times.”
“I just always ask them to call first. If’ they called before going to the airport, I’d have like, a day or so, or at least a few hours before they get here depending on where they are. But they never do and they get on me about the house being a mess when it’s not, I’ve just left like, a pair of shoes out or something and-”
“Steve, I have to finish this. God, you can be so annoying sometimes.”
The words hit Steve like ice.
He sat up quickly, tugging on his shoes from next to the bed, yanking his sweater back on.
“I’m just gonna go then. Annoy my parents at home.” She didn’t say anything.
He rolled his eyes.
-
“Bill, where are you goin’?”
Billy was trying to get himself out of bed, gonna go make them both some coffee.
“I need some fuckin’ caffeine. Don’t know if you realized this, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Steve stretched lazily, finally letting Billy slid out from under the covers and pull on a pair of shorts from the floor.
He was smiling lazily, looked so perfect in the soft light of morning.
“Bring me a cup?”
“Yeah, Baby.”
“With a little bit of cream, and two scoops of sugar and-”
“I know how you take it, Pretty Boy.”
“And would you do some toast, too? I’ve got the good jam in the fridge, that fresh raspberry stuff from the old couple down the street. Will you do sourdough? It’s in he pantry, not the breadbox, and just a little bit of that Amish butter and then a layer of jam-” Billy flopped onto the bed, letting his weight press into Steve.
“I got an idea. You could come make yourself your high maintenance toast before I get annoyed to death.”
Billy meant it cute.
As cute as he can mean things while still making fun of Steve.
His idea was to get Steve in the kitchen with him. They could turn on the little radio down there and make breakfast together. It would be nice.
But it was alarming.
He was watching Steve’s face as he said it, and the second he let slip annoyed to death, Steve’s eyes went blank.
He stopped talking, smiling benignly up at Billy.
“What’s up?” Steve just shook his head. “No, something’s wrong, I can tell.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”
Steve’s words were clipped.
“You’re not fine. Tell me what’s wrong? What’d I do?”
“You didn’t do anything. I just-” he sighed. “I know I can be annoying sometimes. I’m working on it.”
“Why?”
“Because, because,” Steve wasn’t looking at him, “because it sucks, being around someone that just makes you mad because they won’t shut up.”
“Baby, you never make me mad. I’m sorry I said that, it was a joke. I don’t actually think you’re annoying. I just, I thought maybe we could make breakfast together.” His cheeks were hot, admitting that to Steve.
Billy doesn’t think it’ll matter how long they’re together, he’ll always get flustered admitting his feelings, or even getting close to doing so.
“No, Billy. It’s fine. I’ll try to keep it in mind. When to shut my mouth.”
“Steve, I fucking never want you to shut your mouth. I want you to talk to me forever and ever. I wanna hear about your fucking toast every single morning. I wanna hear about your day every night, and I wanna hear what pisses you off, and what makes you sad, and what makes you happy. Never stop talking to me, okay? Just love hearing your voice.”
“I, alright.” Steve’s eyes were bright again, but he still looked unsure.
“Come downstairs. Tell me about the fuckin’ Amish butter and why in the hell you have it.”
“It’s hand churned.”
“Yeah? Why’s that make it special?”
Steve appraised Billy.
He tried to keep his face open, tried to make sure Steve knew he wanted to know.
“It just makes it taste better. I think it’s because they use really fresh butter milk. I get it at the farmer’s market and the woman that sells it says they have a farm. They have goat cheese, too, and I’ve always wanted to try it because they have ones made with different herbs, and they all look so good.”
Billy was still on top of Steve, watching him intently as he spoke.
It made Steve warm. Washed out that sour feeling in his throat.
Because Billy wanted to hear him.
And Steve doesn’t know anybody that’s ever wanted that.
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gappy has a crushing fetish, he wants u to sit on him
ahhh.... i just think he's neat
balls are cute, wanna put all four of them in my mouth like some Werthers Originals
wanna see his weird eyes roll back in his head and his weird tongue poke out and his tooth gap as he cums a liiiiitttle too hard
wanna milk him, call me amish because im CHURNING THAT CREAM INTO BUTTER
ANON NOT THE WERTHERS ORIGINALS
NOT THE BUTTER CHURNING
#this made me snort#just for that i hope it works out for you in imagine land#fuck gappy stupid he's asking for it
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I WANNA CHURN LIKE AMISH BUTTER!!!!!!!!
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oh my GODDD i wanna churn like amish butter
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do amish people have regular jobs?? cuz becoming amish is looking very appealing rn like yeah i wanna churn butter for a living while wearing a baby cap
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btw i wanna churn like amish butter / i wanna i wanna move out of your way / i wanna find what's there in your stomach / if it's the same dark and it's too late. if you even care.
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