stalecheetoh

Latest Posts by stalecheetoh

reblog to give warm bread to your mutuals

hey im new here does hinata live at the end of hq?

during the olympics oikawa spikes a ball directly into his head using his full force, killing him instantly.

JJK men answering Thirst Tweets again :P

i am here to defend that one anon! geto isnt attractive in the anime i fear....(ONLY IN FANART and in some scenes in the anime...)

You come into MY house......and insult MY gorgeous long-haired, child-bearing wife......how could you......

i hesitate to call my mom an "almond mom" bc that strikes me as having a very Caucasian connotation AND we also never had almonds in the house

BUT she is very much a "make sure to rip the edges of tortilla off your taco" and "have some green tea with lemon if you get hungry after 6pm" mom

the first video nanami ever posted was filmed on a shaky phone propped up against a bag of flour.

he was making bread—simple, easy, the kind of thing he found comfort in after long days at work. his hands moved methodically, kneading the dough with a quiet precision, and though he spoke very little, the video was oddly calming.

he hadn't expected much from it. maybe a few views, maybe a couple of people who’d appreciate the lack of unnecessary chatter. but the comments were overwhelmingly positive, people asking about his technique, his recipe, his voice—deep, smooth, effortlessly steady. so he made another video. then another.

it was the late-night upload of him singing "baby one more time" by the marías that changed everything.

filmed on an old macbook with a grainy webcam, the lighting barely enough to make out his face, the video had been an impulse decision—one he almost deleted. it was just him, sitting on his couch, his voice low and hushed, the way he usually sang to lull yuuji to sleep. but the internet clung to it like ivy, twisting and reaching until the video had over a million views by the end of the week.

"who is he." "why is this the most intimate thing i've ever heard in my life." "he looks exhausted and sounds like a dream, i'm in love."

he thought it would pass. but it didn't.

his subscribers doubled overnight. the demand for more was loud, insistent. nanami, being nanami, didn’t rush to meet it. instead, he structured it into his routine: one video a week, a mix of baking and singing—because baking was reliable, and singing had never been something he shared outside of yuuji’s bedtime.

his channel evolved. the baking videos became polished, edited with subtle precision. he switched to voiceovers, explaining each step in that same low, deliberate tone that made people feel like he was speaking just to them. and when he sang, it was always songs that carried a quiet sort of nostalgia.

"he only sings songs he sings to his kid to sleep i’m crying." "his lullabies are better than half the music industry." "i don’t know his name, his age, or his face properly, but i know his banana bread recipe by heart."

nanami never explicitly talked about being a single dad, but it was impossible to miss. yuuji’s voice sometimes made cameos in the background, muffled questions about homework, laughter when nanami burnt the edges of a cake. he didn’t hide it, didn’t play it up. it was just a part of his life, and his audience adored him for it.

his faq video—one of the few times he ever directly addressed personal questions—answered almost nothing.

"are you married?" "no." "how old are you?" "old enough." "what's your name?" "nanami."

the mystery only made people more obsessed.

"i know nothing about him but i’d die for him." "his hands. his voice. his existence." "the fact that he bakes and sings for his kid and still won’t tell us his age is crazy."

he now posted twice a week. one video was always baking, the other was whatever he wanted—sometimes music, sometimes a quiet q&a, sometimes just a video of him making tea while rain hit the windows.

people knew everything and nothing about him at the same time. they knew the exact ratio of brown sugar he preferred in cookies but not what city he lived in. they knew he tucked yuuji in every night with a song but had never seen his full face in a single frame. they knew the precise cadence of his voice when he said “and that’s how you make the perfect loaf” but had never heard him say “i love you”—and yet, somehow, they felt like they had.

the internet had fallen in love with him. and nanami, quietly, without even trying, had changed his life with nothing but flour-dusted hands and the sound of his own voice.

I cannot believe there's absolutely no way to watch free shows and movies anymore, there are too many paid streaming platforms and pirating websites have viruses and ads preventing you from watching it uninterrupted((.)) id rather follow the rules and purchase media moving forward because it is too inconvenient. Seriously, free and no ads or viruses with 1080p streaming is DEAD.

don't go Nanamin don't go

It was an average Monday morning when you, Nanami Kento's wife, were turned into a cat.

"An unusual Curse," Shoko had said, "not longer than a week, surely--"

"Not--not longer than a week?!" Kento spluttered, his glasses lopsided, and, dangled in front of him beneath the arms (legs-- legs, he reminded himself)...you.

You, with two pointed ears, a long whippy tail, your many toe-beans and a perturbed little head-tilt. On the doctors' office couch, a neatly folded (if a little furry) pile of your clothes.

"Meow," you had said.

"Don't 'meow' me," Kento spluttered again, fixing you with a stern look that barely overlaid his concern. You simply stared up at him, long, and feline, and unblinking...and reached out one little paw, pressing it onto the end of his nose.

Kento sighed; a bone-deep, weary sigh. Shoko put out her cigarette, speaking through a haze of smoke.

"Like I said. Give it a week, and Mrs.Nyanyami will be back to nor--"

"What did you just call her?'

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Mrs.Nyanyami, the cat formerly known as Nanami Kento's wife, wanted for nothing.

"I think that tuna's more expensive than anything I've ever eaten," whispered Yuuji to Gojo. On the other side of the conference room, you sat upon the desk before Kento, waiting patiently for the next lump of tuna (meticulously cut into cat-appropriate cubes) to be delivered in his chopsticks.

As Kento's hand approached, you held it close with paw and claws, to steal the pink fish from him. He looked like a surgeon performing heart surgery.

"I just...dont know how he can look so serious while he's doing that," Gojo whispered back, to Yuuji's frantic nods. Still, they watched this freakish nature documentary with quiet obsession.

A higher-up sat down beside Kento, waiting for the meeting to begin. Jolting back, and grumbling, he did a double take.

"Young man-- you can't bring a cat to a Sorcerer's meeting--"

"That's not a cat," Kento snapped, frosty, "that's my wife."

And so began the rumour amongst the higher-ups, that Nanami Kento had gone mad.

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"You should leave her at home--"

"--absolutely not--"

"--really, Nanami...just put the television on, she'll be fine--"

"--unequivocally, no--"

"--why not?!"

Silence. An awkward shuffle on Kento's thick chest. You peeked your head out of the pocket of the cat-carrying hoodie that Kento wore over his shirt and tie, and turned to Gojo with narrowed eyes.

"Meow," you had said, batting at Kento's strings, and hooking his tie out with your paw, to kick it to death with your legs.

"I agree," said Kento, whispering and scratching you beneath the chin until you purred, "he's wrong, isn't he? Stupid Gojo. You'd get lonely. You'd get bored. Yes you would..."

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"Oh my god...he's gorgeous...you should get his number--"

"--I'm not brave enough...you go. I'll get our coffees."

"--okay, okay..." The woman cleared her throat, sweeping her hair behind one ear with her best smile. Kento looked up from his coffee, with one finely raised eyebrow.

"Can I help you?" He lied, unwilling to help anyone at all before he'd finished his croissant.

"Hi, yeah, I just...can't help but notice you're sitting alone, and my friend-- well she-- she just wondered if she can have your number, and--"

The woman broke off into shrieks. Climbing up her leg, all claws and furry vengeance, was you. She shook her leg, shrieking. You hissed. Your cup of steamed milk clattered over the table, slopping everywhere.

"--o-oh my god-- oh my god, what the hell is this cat doi--"

"I'm sorry," Kento sighed, not sorry at all and dabbing his mouth with a napkin and doing absolutely nothing to help, "it's my cat. She doesn't like company--"

Hisses. Claws. Dirty feral yowls.

"Get this fucking thing off me--"

"I can't take you anywhere. No more steamed milk for you."

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At times, you seemed so human. At others, undeniably cat.

Kento would wake to clattering from the kitchen, bleary and feeling around for you, only to remember, and trace his hand up to the furry, round little patch you'd leave behind on your pillow. He allowed himself just a moment of misery, before getting up.

He followed the sounds of cups and kettle and coffee machine, and leaned against the doorway with sleep-mussed hair and a squinting, teenagerish glare.

You were up on the counter, all four paws and determination. You had gotten as far as switching the kettle and coffee machine on, and heaving the cupboard open with your tiny limbs. Kento watched as you tipped your head sideways, managing to drag two mugs out in your teeth. He winced as they almost smashed upon the counter.

"Come on," Kento rumbled, his voice rusty with sleep, "let me do that."

You meowed at him, batting at the air with one angry paw when he stepped closer. Kento huffed, raising his hands in surrender.

"Fine," he tutted, "but I'll pour the water."

"Meow."

"Why? Because you don't have opposable thumbs, darling."

The fur stood up along your spine. You turned around, and around, in a circle, then sat upright. You turned your back on him while you waited for the kettle to boil. Your tail flicked from side to side, irritable. Kento waited, too, reaching out one hand to stroke your ears.

You nudged your back paw out, and pushed his mug off the side to smash on the floor.

Silence.

"...what is wrong with y--"

"Meow."

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Skitterskitterskitter.

Distant meows.

Kento groaned, rubbing down his face. He checked the clock, frog-blinking; two in the morning. He groaned harder.

Skitterskitterskitter.

Thunk.

More distant meows.

"Please just come back to bed," Kento moaned into the hands pressed over his face.

SkitterskitterskitterSKITTERSKITTER-- rustlllleerussstle--

Directly over his face.

"Meow--"

"I am begging you--"

RustlerustleTHNKskitterskitterskitter.

Distant meows.

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"I miss you."

You raised your head to look at him. Your purring hitched. Your ears tilted.

Kento had murmured, his low voice barely audible. The only light in the living room was the ever-changing light of the television screen. Laid on his back on the sofa, with you curled on his chest, Kento stroked down your back with longing.

You crept up his chest, pressing your cold wet nose to his, and purred. Nose to nose, and cross-eyed, Kento could have cried.

"I really miss you," he repeated, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Your claws dug into his chest, just a little. You rub, rub, rubbed your warm furry head along his jaw until he sniffled, and gave a choked little chuckle.

He fell asleep with you on his chest that night. In so many ways, it was familiar; home. In so many others, you were gone forever.

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"Meow."

Kento shuffled. His chest felt heavy...warm. His belly felt warm, too. And his lap, and--

Kento's eyes shot open, his head lifting up from the couch.

You bit your lip, naked on top of him, and smiling. Human. An angel.

"Oh, my love," Kento moaned, crushing you to him in a bear hug from shoulder to toes, "you're back-- I missed you, I was so worrie--"

You batted an arm out, swiping last night's wine glass from the coffee table beside you, to shatter on the floor.

Silence. Kento blinked slowly, looking from the wine glass, to you. You felt your cheeks grow hot, swallowing hard.

"God, I...sorry, Kento. Force-- force of habit--"

[Another Itadori training session]

Nanami: You couldn’t use Black Flash fast enough. You just killed Y/N.

Y/N: Honey…

Nanami: I can’t hear you, Y/N. You’re dead.

Nanami, to Yuji: They bled out in your lap. How will you break the news to me? Let's see.

Yuji: We don't have to do this.

Nanami: Ah, Itadori, how are things going with Y/N, the love of my life? Wait, why are you here at this late hour? And whose blood is that?

Yuji: Okay, I get it.

Nanami: It's Y/N’s? This is devastating. I'm inconsolable. And…

[Nanami snaps his fingers]

Nanami: I’ve killed myself.

Yuji: Cool. I can see this is gonna be fun…

gojo’s the type to kiss your stretch marks and say “stop… for me…”

Happy Halloween from Irondad and his Spiderson! 🍬🎃🦇

posting this as tradition, the only day you can reblog this

100% would happen with them 💀

all credits to the artist @GMamka on X & Tiktok

Sukuna as Michael Myers

fucking hate it when the stuff everybody says "actually works" does actually work.

hate exercising and realizing i've let go of a lot of anxiety and anger because i've overturned my fight-or-flight response.

hate eating right and eating enough and eating 3 times a day and realizing i'm less anxious and i have more energy

hate journaling in my stupid notebook with my stupid bic ballpoint and realizing that i've actually started healing about something once i'm able to externalize it

hate forgiving myself hate complimenting myself more often hate treating myself with kindness hate taking a gratitude inventory hate having patience hate talking to myself gently

hate turning my little face up to the sun and taking deep breaths and looking at nature and grounding myself and realizing that i feel less burdened and more hopeful, more actually-here, that i am able to see the good sides of myself more clearly, that i am able to see not only how far i have to grow - but also how much growth i have already done & how much of my life i truly fill with light and laughter and love

horrible horrible horrible. hate it but i'm gonna do it tho

"Yuuji-- if you don't mind, can I ask you something?"

Yuuji looked up from his phone, feeling so grown up to be in the Jujutsu High staffroom with Kento. He raised his eyebrows, the scar across his lip tugging up.

"Uh...yeah, sure. Go crazy."

"What is scary dog privilege, exactly?"

"Scary dog privilege? Huh, well...let's see, uhm...so it's like..."

Yuuji explained, all peaches and wide eyes and animated hands. Kento nodded occasionally, listening intently. His mind, naturally, strayed to you; you were what this was all about, after all.

As with any thought of you (you being his blossoming latent obsession), Kento's stomach flipped, his grip tightening fractionally around his coffee.

Kento remembered.

He remembered when he dropped you home. You checked over your shoulder, again, and again, and again, before you unlocked your door and hurried inside.

He remembered how he had once walked up behind you without much thought, and you spun with panic in your eyes. Kento recalled how quickly you had relaxed, to see it was him, and how high his hope climbed as a result.

He remembered how you had spilled the contents of your bag. You snatched your pepper spray up in the hope that his keen eyes had missed it.

He remembered how you headed to the subway after a staff night out. Your keys had been curiously gripped between your fingers, a weapon that wasn't a weapon.

He remembered, how just the day before, he and you had walked together through central Tokyo to get lunch. You had sat on a park bench together, and Kento had been so overwhelmed by the need to hold it together, Kento, keep it together, that he barely registered the relief written on your skin.

You had eaten in comfortable silence, then leaned over to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek on the way to the bins.

"Thanks for the scary dog privilege, Kento. It's the first time in a long time that I've relaxed in public."

Kento's eyes had drifted closed for just a few moments too long, with the warmth of your lips on his skin, and he stuttered, fumbling, unlike himself.

"Ah...scary...dog privilege?" He asked, quiet. But you were already gone; throwing your crumbs to the ducks.

Yuuji's voice snapped Kento out of memory, and back to the staffroom.

"Dunno if that makes sense, Nanamin?"

A molten pit of spite and rage ignited in Kento once he put two and two together. Scary dog privilege. He gave you scary dog privilege. Why was walking the streets in safety a privilege? Shit. Kento kept his voice level, patting Yuuji on the shoulder as he left, his steaming coffee abandoned.

"Thank you, Yuuji. Stay safe out there this afternoon, and call me when you're finished, please."

If Kento hadn't already felt dirty enough with the knowledge that he pleasured himself to thoughts of you every night, he felt worse, now. He stalked through the corridors of Jujutsu High, calling Ijichi, calling Shoko, determined to find you.

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Once you noticed how one man's gaze lingered on you, you noticed them all. To you, almost all seemed to do it, and to every woman, be they 18 or 80, tall or short or curvy or lithe or gay or straight or anywhere in between. Then, when you began to notice the gazes on 16 year olds, or 12 year olds, or--

You had nauseated by the time you turned the corner to grab lunch. Simultaneously built up and dragged down and accused, you were a madonna and a whore and a bitch. You wondered, vaguely, how deeply, how incurably the disease ran, as you entered the bustling café. You didn't want to think about it. You'd just grab food, and go, and--

"Ah. Good afternoon."

You blinked, to see Kento before you in the queue, and felt a warm burst of joy from your tummy to your toes.

"Kento, I'm...happier than you know, to see you, actually."

A satisfied hum. "I had a feeling you might be. Now...about something you said yesterday...."

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Nanami Kento didn't immediately strike one as a scary dog. He was built, yes, but his suits hid it well, and he was only a little taller than average, and really quite mild, but--

-- oh.

The way his glares could frost a soul. The way other men bounced off him, a stone wall, when a shoulder 'accidentally' hit his. The way his eyes found wayward gazes like a sniper, with the dulcet loading of a bullet behind his sneer. The silent commanding respect. The dares that other men would not dare.

It was no wonder, then, how you and Kento, became you and Shoko and Kento, became you and Shoko and Maki and Nobara and Kento. While individually able to fight your own fights, feeling Kento's scary dog privilege melt threats with acid, was a burden blissfully relieved.

With Kento's protective Midas' touch, your daily lunches turned to gold, unsullied and unmolested. Still...he was there for the whole group.

So why, then, in such a large group, did you look up to find his gaze on you, and only you? How could his eyes caress without staring? It was sorcery, surely.

Kento sequestered you one day, throwing his crumbs to the ducks alongside yours, as the others chatted on the benches behind you. You looked up, shooting him a sideways smile, and wondering how you could ever be good enough for him. He spoke quietly.

"I always believed a dog to have just one owner."

You felt your stomach twist with insinuation. You laid the thread.

"...oh?"

"And while I'm happy to offer my privileges to the benefit of a group, I...would like to be in the position to make such a privilege exclusive."

You swallowed hard, looking sideways again with hope against hope against hope against--

"Are you...saying you'd like to be my scary dog?"

"Very, very much so."

It do be 2013 all over again because why am I reading one direction fanfics bffr (that being said, send your suggestions if you have any)

Chat...my mom just sold me to one direction...ill miss yall

Poor Megumi 🌚😰

[papamin au 🐅] spooky season but make it cute

reblog if those man tits make you irrational

OMG ITS OCTOBER

There's two types of ways Sukuna fans are dealing with chapter 268. Some are grieving the loss of the King of Curses. Others...

Others, like me, are embracing that Blobkuna life.

Everybody who says Yuuji shoved Blobkuna up his pussy is correct btw

its been fun! 🥖

Megumi: Jellyfish have survived 600,000 years without brains. Nobara: A ray of hope for Itadori.