#Fluffernutter

[redjennies]

it's such a fucking shame b***j*s completely cornered the "Jester realizes she's gay for her best friend" ship market during the initial run of C2 because while even I'll admit that ship did have some good moments, a queer reading of Veth and Jester's friendship is so authentic to a specific experience of being young and bi and in love with your best friend that only True Tumblrinas will ever know.

[homeofhousechickens]

Awoo awoo awoo awoo

[scattergoriesofevil]

Happy National Fluffernutter Day

[fullcravings]

Fluffernutter Cookies

[shycoconutt]

“Honey,” Nanami Kento’s voice echoes from the front entryway to your shared apartment, leather dress shoes clicking on the hardwood as he enters, “there’s a package for you.”

Squealing in excitement, you jump up from your cozy cocoon on the couch and rush towards him, fuzzy socks causing you to slip in the process.

Luckily, Nanami catches you effortlessly, preventing you from landing face first.

“You know, for someone who exorcises curses for a living, you’re awfully clumsy.”

“I’m not clumsy!” you defend as you playfully tear yourself away from his grasp, “I just feel safe letting my guard down around you, is that so bad?”

Standing in front of him now, Nanami gazing down at you with a soft, adoring expression, you take a moment to relish his presence. Recently, your individual schedules have been clashing, and it’s taken a toll on your usual evening routine of making a home-cooked meal, cuddling, bathing, and reading together, all while tangled up in a heap of limbs and love.

“I missed you, Ken,” your tone is laced with utmost sincerity as you throw your arms around his broad shoulders, leaning into his neck to take a large inhale of his scent.

You feel his body curl around your own, his strong arms giving you a firm squeeze. “I missed you too,” he mumbles into your hair.

You stand like this, resting in each other’s embrace, for a few minutes. Ever since you got together, he has quickly become your life source, and you his. It’s customary for you to have moments like this, using each other’s embrace to charge your proverbial battery. If someone’s energy is particularly depleted on any given day, the other patiently waits for them to consume the proper amount they need.

“So,” his voice breaks the silence, “what’s in the package?”

Smiling into his chest, you tease him, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

That earns you a chuckle, “Oh? Is it a secret? A present perhaps?”

Separating from him, you snatch the package from his grip, tear it open, and present the jumbled up piece of fabric to him.

“Pajamas?” he questions.

“Yes, sir!” you squeal, obviously excited.

There’s a pause, and you look up to find a puzzled expression on Nanami’s face.

“What’s wrong?” you pout, looking up to him expectedly.

“Nothing,” he deflects, eyes shifting to the side while a faint blush appears on his cheeks, “it’s just, well, normally you wear my t-shirts to bed and nothing else. I didn’t know you needed pajamas.”

Your mouth slightly gapes, processing his words. He’s right, ever since you started living together, you often use his old shirts or the undershirt he wore for the day as your sleeping attire. It’s easy, they smell like him, and you hate wearing pants, so it was the most obvious solution. Nanami never said anything about it, so you assumed he was neither annoyed nor contended by it.

But Nanami’s body language, paired with the bashful look on his face, tells a different story.

Cute.

Making a scene, you dramatically toss the article of clothing over your shoulder and slightly slap your forehead in faux-realization.

“You’re right,” you pronounce, “what was I thinking?”

Nanami rolls his eyes with a smirk, obviously caught on to your little act, before pulling you into a bear hug and spinning you around. You can’t help the heap of giggles that escape your lips.

Soon, you are taken away from the entryway and plopped down on the couch, Nanami coming to rest on top of you with his full weight, the pressure causing a whole new bout of laughter.

“Nanami!” you gasp.

“What kind of pajamas are those anyway?” he ridicules while poking your sides, not letting up on his teasing.

“Just -argh- just a skimpy lace camisole with slits up both sides,” you say in between gasps. “You know for -ah- easy access.”

The man above you freezes, pulling back to look at you with wide eyes.

Now it’s your turn to smirk.

“Well,” Nanami began, clearing his throat, “if you want to wear those kinds of pajamas, you know, every once in a while, that’d be okay.”

Patting his chest, you sit up, so your nose is touching his, eyes squinting in reluctance. With the blush beginning to travel down his neck, it’s clear who has the upper hand.

“Sure, Ken. But only if you’re the one to take it off.”

a/n: something fluffy and cute to help you (hopefully) get through the week. some big nanami fics are in the works, so (if you’d like) please follow to stay updated!

[dysfunctional-cryptid]

Nott your average goblin ~°♡

[ashisafriedpickle]

[haveyoueatenthis]

[aussie0608]

veth the fucking brave

I don't think Sam knew what he was doing when he created her but I've never seen such a realistic depiction of the trans experience from a not trans character. Like she always talks about how she's in the wrong body and Veth has so much vitriol for her body which is such a ringer for dysphoria. But something I've seen talked about less is how she knows her body is wrong but when she finally gets the opportunity to fix it she's excited but also so frightened, it's different and it's going to change things and her relationships and that's scary. As a trans person I know in my heart of hearts I am a boy and that's always been true but talking about it, coming out, transitioning is so frightening. While you're becoming who you've always known you were everything still changes, people treat you different and your relationships change. Of course it's not a perfect one-to-one but Veth the Brave is so important to me and I'm so glad Sam got to tell her story and we eventually we get to see her happy! She has a body that matches! She has her husband and son and also the Mighty Nein and doesn't have to compromise herself. I love her

[factoryfollies]

i would trust this guy

[purrinakittenciao]

I never know what to put in my first post so here are some pictures of my foster kittens, Fluffer Nutter and Chaka Khan.

[homeofhousechickens]

Thing boy

[eddiesdruid]

Was looking for a new cookie recipe to try and this one popped up on my Pinterest ..

but... All I could think was

[phoechii]

We fluffy

[the-bitter-woods]

For JaspersAgem's weekly art challenge: your not-cat as a plushie!

[chronicallycouchbound]

Unhoused Joy: Cardboard Sleds

So often are unhoused youth stripped of the simple joys of childhood. Even if we weren’t homeless at a young age, most of us never had the type of childhood where you sled for hours and come inside to a cup of hot cocoa. But Chris and I were young teenagers and both trying our best to stay sober as friends around us struggled to do so.

We were living in the teen shelter together. We had grown close. Not like friends close, but like siblings close. He always poked me and pushed my buttons and in return I steered him away from trouble. Just like any good brother would.

In the harsh New England winters, there wasn’t much to do. We were both in high school and had too much energy for the library. There wasn’t anywhere else indoors to hang out for people our age in this god awful small town.

So Chris and I went for walks. We liked to hang out at this random tiny gazebo next to the fairgrounds. I’d chain smoke and we’d joke back and forth. I’d give him advice about the most recent trouble he absolutely was at fault for.

One night I see stacks of cardboard at the nearby dumpster. We grab them and use them to take turns sliding down the small hill. Chris eats shit and I die laughing. We repeat until the cardboard boxes have disintegrated from the weight of us and the cold freshly melted snow.

We walk back laughing and shivering to the youth shelter. We come inside and staff asks if we’re high and we can tell them honestly, no. Chris sits in the kitchen, leaning back in his chair on the brink of falling. He did fall once or twice. I made us hot cocoa and fluffernutters.

I’m sure we talked for hours before heading off to bed, we often did back then. I miss those moments of innocence, a reprieve from the day-to-day traumas of homelessness.

Cardboard sleds didn’t grant either of us housing. But they did grant us hope and joy in a time we frequently didn’t have either. Thank you for those times, Chris.