#im not even drinking this is just

[basshole-astard]

PSA: i keep seeing posts about staying cool in extreme heat that include advice like "gatorade is bad actually!" and "don't drink fruit juice it'll just dehydrate you!" and neither of these are true!

regarding fruit juice: there's apparently a misconception that Any Sugar At All will dehydrate you, and that's simply not true. yes, sugar will make you pee more when consumed in large amounts, but 1) the natural sugar in fruits won't do this to you 2) great news! a lot of fruit juices exist without any added sugar in them! 3) honestly even having a glass of the fruit juice with added sugar won't completely dehydrate you as long as you're also drinking water throughout the day. if its hot you deserve a cold treat of a drink!!! can't go wrong with fruit juice!!!

regarding gatorade: maybe this isn't an every day drink, but guess what: if it's 110F/40C or hotter outside, and you don't have AC, or you're moving around a lot outside of the AC, and you're sweating buckets: that's when you drink a gatorade.

gatorade exists to replenish all the electrolytes (salt) and glucose (sugar) that you sweat out. YES it is meant for athletes to drink during intensive work outs and not necessarily for people who aren't doing that kind of exercise. BUT GUESS WHAT! when you're sweating buckets because you had to walk to the bus in extreme heat, that's intensive exercise. please feel free to drink a gatorade after that! that's its intended use case!!!!

no: neither of these drinks should be a total replacement for water. but drinking a lot of water and then treating yourself to a fruit juice with lunch is a good idea!!! drinking a gatorade becuase you just had to walk for 20 minutes in the heat is a good idea!!!

Please Stop Spreading Misinformation About Drinks!!! It's fine if you drink things that aren't water!!!! Yes you should probably always be drinking water but drinking something else As Well isn't going to hurt you!!!! okay!!!! its fine!!!!!!

honestly so long as you are consistently getting Any (non-alcoholic) fluids in you, you're doing great!!!!!! okay!!!! i love you stay safe <3

#also: drinking A Soda or A Coffee isn't going to completely dehydrate you if you're drinking other fluids tbqh!!! #its fine!!!!! its fine!!!!! #drinks #heat #dehydration #this post exists because i'm mad at misinfo but also #this is for my homies who hate the taste of water and struggle to stay hydrated #because people have told them over and over again You Must Absolute Drink Water And Nothing Else and so they just don't drink anything #listen!! hey!!! whoever told you that was lying!!!! #drinking Any Fluids At All (yes even with caffeine!!) is better than Not Drinking Anything #please hydrate!!!! it's okay if that hydration isn't water!!!! #honestly i tried to be extremely non confrontational in this post but im pretty sure i've seen people suggest flavored water packets #but say no fruit juice ever. and that's insane. #it's all fluids baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #so long as you are drinking fluids you are combatting dehydration #YES water is the best option HOWEVER. if you drink things that aren't water that's also okay! i promise!!!!!!!!

[inkskinned]

probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.

we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."

at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.

the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.

the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.

what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.

here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.

#this is true #writeblr #warm up #relatedly for some reason one of our Favorite Jokes #amongst the Siblings #is like - ''this is so good u will love it'' #while we are reacting to something we OBVIOUSLY find viscerally disgusting #like we will be actively retching and be like ''nooooo it's so good'' #to the point that i sometimes get nervous if someone outside my family is like oh u should try it its good #(obvi we never force each other to eat anything. we are all just curious birds and #like. we're GONNA try the new thing.) #edit to answer why we had so much vanilla: #my mom is a very good cook and we LOVE to bake. so she just had a lot of staples in the house. #it's one of those things that's like. have u ever continuously thought ''ah i should get butter im probably out'' #even tho u are not out of butter. so u end up with like 5 years of butter. #my mom would do that in a costco but like with vanilla extract #to be fair we WERE always using WAY TOO MUCH bc we were kids #so like she was right to stock up #ps. yes we were VERY sick after this lol i just didn't want to include it in the post in case ppl had an ick about that #u can tell it's real bc we knew "oh no we fucked up that's too much vanilla to waste'' but our reaction was to just. keep drinking it #> sibling understanding that vanilla extract isn't free > knowledge mother doesnt mind if we use it for milkshakes #> sibling choice to maybe get in a loophole of ''not wasting it'' if we drink it bc that's the same as using it (not throwing it out) #listen bud i was like 13 and my sister was like 9 #when my mom discovered this we. got in. A LOT. of trouble. a lot of it. a LOT of it. #3rd edit bc i guess it isn't clear - i am 1 of my brother's 2 little sisters #i am the middle child #out of all the ways i have had to explain a post before being like ''did u forget a middle child can happen'' is my favorite

[fairycosmos]

one thing i have always been kinda jealous of other people over is that they just seem to have a lot of fun and i don't. like at most i am content and i remember thinking as a kid that everyone was acting so silly and goofy and funny as most children do and i always wondered how they could take things so lightly that. i wish i could just have a good time too but i just stand there like ive just seen someone get shot all the time

#idk how to word it #drinking and stuff helps but even then i am not like. having FUN im just finding it bearable and chill

[hotdrinks]

I keep seeing posts about Jon saying he and Martin wouldn't love each other in another universe but I'm pretty sure it was Martin who said all that?? Kind of?

Irrc Jon said he often imagines what things would have been like if they met and been together without all the institute stuff and Martin says "me too but we wouldn't have, would we?" And goes on his whole spiel about how Jon hated him at first and the horrors changed them both so much it made them compatible, to which Jon doesn't seem to entirely agree. And that convo wasn't really about other universes it was about Jon's daydreams. I'm not trying to be a pedant rn I just keep seeing references to this conversation and I remember it happening a very different way.

#drinks talk tag #tma #im worried this post is coming across as bitchy #im not trying to dunk on anyone im genuinely just wondering #i just remember a lot of ppl being really mad at martin when that episode aired lol #actually im back in my tags to elaborate that conversation wasnt even about jons daydreams #it was about martin trying to convince jon to save himself #like the whole reason he said that was to convey that maybe they wouldn't have gotten together under different circumstances #but they are together and he wants a chance for them to enjoy that

[uselessimpulses]

something something plant membranes as clothing so hes n akey

#im literally brain rotting to the point that ive made an extensive gdoc to work on research for the anatomy of plants #like not only for the love of making the plantussy work but like #because i need to know how they work #like he doesnt need to eat or drink like vash in tristamp so i need to figure out how his organs are in a dormant state or stasis even #the draw of energy and where the requirements for rest are #also he doesnt wear clothes we see the blend wheres his d k at #like i fully believe its not a real bodysuit like clothing i think its like a second skin membrane sort of situation #but im just insane abt it rn he confuses and intrigues me #trigun stampede #trigun maximum #trigun #millions knives #tristamp #trimax #also plants not having a gender or being hermaphrodites technically im so !!! full of the need to research

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

the green in your eyes (makes me feel warm inside) ; megumi fushiguro

synopsis; in the comfort of a familiar bookstore, you find a boy. a pretty boy, who’s always reading, who doesn’t speak unless he has to. you’d like to get to know him — and maybe you will.

word count; 4.6k

contents; megumi fushiguro/reader, gn!reader, fluffy!!, lots of pining from afar, bookstore au, no curses au, reader is an overworked student bc uni is beating my ass, gumi is kind of awkward but hes cute <3, gojo mentioned twice (stay safe), can u tell im excited for christmas … :'3

a/n; bookstore employee gumi who hates every single customer except for you is so real to me

(@riaki its here …🙇‍♂️)

he’s there again. 

with a decisive step forward, you drag the door open, and the flutter of a bell resounds throughout the bookstore. a precious little jingle, alerting him of your presence. 

the boy at the counter gives you a glance. his navy eyes settle on your bundled up figure, and a flicker of familiarity blooms in the scope of his iris, a kind of recognition. something that makes your heart feel like a clumped up little ball of snow. 

(oh. it’s you.

you can almost hear the silent words fall past his lips.)

it only lasts for a second, barely even that, your gazes overlapping — then he’s back to reading. 

today, you recognize the book in his hands. the hardcover looks just a tiny bit worn, but still well taken care of. well-loved. and it’s a pretty rendition; a butterfly just above the title, snakes crawling on either side, vines stretching out across the scope of the image. there’s a kind of mystique to it. pretty.

wuthering heights, you read off the cover.

a little odd, in hindsight. you’ve only ever seen him read nonfiction. maybe he decided to broaden his horizons?

after a brief moment’s contemplation, your feet begin to move. taking another small step forward, inching closer, while the door falls shut behind you. blocking out the snowfall and colourful lights illuminating the street. 

mitten-clad hands go to brush stray snowflakes off your shoulders, as you shift from foot to foot, halfheartedly attempting to warm up your numbed toes. wallowing in the atmosphere of the cozy little bookstore; breathing in the smell of peppermint, the hint of freshly brewed coffee. from the boy, you assume — he’s got his usual mug on standby, a cute little black dog etched into the ceramic. steam rises from it, floating up into the air, and a fragrance of espresso wafts throughout the store.

low christmas music plays from the speakers, barely audible. pleasing to your sensitive ears and tired mind. it’s the usual mix of well-loved songs, for the most part, but then some you haven’t heard before. you can only assume he picked them out himself; pretty instrumentals, or low, gravelly voices, adding to that particular atmosphere simmering around you. nostalgic, a little melancholic.

the boy behind the counter looks angelic. 

he always does, when he’s reading — and he usually is. gentle, in the way he turns the pages, awfully delicate, keeping them still between his thumb and forefinger. lips pursed, brows just a tiny bit furrowed. concentrated, immersed. dark eyes trailing over the tiny letters, scanning the ink of the paper, twisting the syllables inside his mind. almost tasting them on his tongue, with the way he wets his lips. they look a little chapped.

for some reason, the sight seems to render you sort of speechless. frozen. like he’s a pretty bluebird seated on your windowsill, chirping softly in the wake of morning, and you’re afraid of scaring him away.

— his eyes meet yours, and you visibly stiffen.

it’s smooth, the motion of his hands. how swiftly he flicks the book shut, placing it face down on the counter with a twitch of his lithe fingers. not before slipping a pretty bookmark in between the pages, lilac-coloured, with flowers embroidered into the silky texture. you wonder if he made it himself. 

his voice spills out into the air, a little raspy. deep, but velvety, sending shivers down your spine. he clears his throat, and you watch his adam’s apple bob. ”do you need anything?”

a second passes. 

it catches you off guard, the mellow sound of his voice. when you’re so unaccustomed to hearing it. excluding the brief words you’ve exchanged paying for your novels, you’ve only heard it a select few times — mostly from afar, not-so-sneakily listening in on his conversations with the pink haired boy and pretty girl who sometimes come in and never look at any of the books. 

(there’s the tall guy with the not-so-seasonal sunglasses, too. but when he enters the store, all you pick up on are usually grumbles and threatening hand gestures.)

but now, that low, low voice is directed at you. 

it can’t be good for your physical health. or mental, for that matter. you’re not sure you remember to properly breathe, and you’re almost certain hearts aren’t supposed to flail the way yours is right now. 

when the boy behind the counter tilts his head, just by a hair, you’re finally snapped out of your little trance. stumbling for something to say, stuttering out a response, your hands grip at the insides of your pockets.

”well, um — i’m looking for a book.”

a moment passes. the song coming from the speakers changes into an instrumental, kind of jazzy. it’s nice.

”… a specific book,” you elaborate, under your breath. gnawing at your bottom lip, feeling a bit of heat on your ears. clearing your throat, as you step forward, tearing your mittens off with your teeth.

searching for a certain image, your numbed fingertips begin to tap at the cold screen of your phone. the warm air of the bookstore envelops your chilled knuckles, and a shiver runs through them.

the boy watches, silently, as you get closer. 

you don’t notice him glancing at your reddened hands, and when you look up to see a glimmer of something displeased in his eyes, you only assume it’s because you’re taking too long. speeding up slightly, you hear a low click of his tongue. his back straightens.

when he gets up from his chair, you notice that he's tall. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him do anything but sit behind the counter with a book in hand, either reading his own or scanning a customer’s. 

and, upon closer inspection — he’s maybe just a little bit too pretty for words. smooth, pale skin, a sharp jaw and defined cheekbones, dark eyes that hide a subtle kind of softness. pierced ears, a glimmer of silver on his earlobes, same as the rings on his bony fingers. his nails are painted black, a little chipped. and he’s wearing a big, bright green christmas sweater; one you really can’t imagine him picking out on his own, if his previous all-black turtlenecks and gray sweaters are anything to go by. 

while you fumble with the phone in your grasp, the pads of his fingers go to silently tap at the edge of the counter. a rhythmic motion; forefinger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over again.

it’s a little bit distracting. when he moves his hand a certain way, his big sweater sleeve rides up just a tiny bit, showing off the blue veins of his inner wrist. you think you catch a glimpse of a mole or two on his pale skin, and you swallow down a gulp, feeling a little like a victorian man seeing a girl’s ankle.

and then finally, you locate the image in question. swiftly showing him the cover of the book you were assigned to read. he squints a little, blinking drowsily, a flutter of his pretty eyelashes that has your heart skipping a beat. 

you clear your throat.

”i’m supposed to read it before christmas break, but i couldn’t find it at our library…” you tilt your head, a little sheepish. ”do you have it here?”

he stares at the screen for just a second more. then he’s angling his head to the left, finger pointing towards a corner of the store. ”it should be over there,” he hums. monotone.

a tentative smile forms on your lips. you thank him, and his eyes find yours.

all he does is shake his head, softly, brushing you off — a silent don’t worry about it. maybe a tad gruff, but you sense an acute gentleness to it. something tender, kind of. or maybe you’d just like to believe the kindness you sense in his eyes is real, more than just a delusion. 

but you don’t have time to dwell on it. the boy behind the counter goes back to reading, cradling the spine with his pretty hands. when he tries to grab the handle of his mug, one of the rings on his fingers knock against the ceramic, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance. 

you go to hunt down your own book, still thinking about his voice, how it trickled like honey from out his lips. 

the bookstore is entirely empty, tonight. no loud noises drilling into your groggy brain, no people to chatter amongst themselves and disrupt the illusion of peace you gain when you spend time here. a tiny respite, from your studies, from the stress and fatigue that you’ve come to associate with winter. hunting for christmas gifts, finishing late assignments, trudging through the snow. pretending that you have it all together.

but here, none of that matters. 

a sense of calm washes over you, as your eyes trail over the books by the science fiction section, and a soft sigh tumbles from your throat. gradually, your hands begin to warm up, and you look out the window.

outside, the world is blanketed by a veil of snow and frost, pure whites and murky grays as far as the eye can see. falling down to earth, smothering everything in a bitter chill. a cold, cold embrace. but when looking at it like this, from inside a cozy bookstore, with a pretty boy by the counter…

it's a breathtaking sight. 

little snowflakes descending, dancing in the wind. desaturating your world. if you close your eyes and focus, you think you can almost feel the wind nip at your fingertips, almost taste the fragrance of dried tea leaves and caramel fudge from the tiny shop across the street. almost bask in the green and red of the decorative lights in the skeletal trees, illuminating the city, buzzing with artificial warmth.

(your heart feels light.)

it doesn’t take long for you to find the book you need. keeping it safe and warm between your arm and torso, you walk back to the counter, gaze still lingering on the windowpane. the little snowflakes fluttering about, the glimpses you catch of passerby and their knit scarves in the darkness of the winter evening.

the boy behind the counter is as efficient as ever. he takes the book, fingertips resting exactly where yours just were, and scans it in a matter of seconds. you pay, and he puts it in a plastic bag, handing it to you — all while his copy of wuthering heights sits on the counter, pointedly, as if beckoning you to mention it.

before you can think to stop yourself, you’ve parted your lips. 

”is it good?” you ask. finger pointing at his book.

the boy blinks. eyelashes fluttering. once, then twice. he seems a little caught off guard, but still speaks within a split second. almost like he doesn’t even think about the answer. ”yeah.”

a hum buzzes in your throat. you shift a little, from foot to foot, plastic bag in hand. ”i’ve been meaning to read it,” you say, desperate to prolong the conversation, ”but i haven't had much time lately.”

a chuckle slips from your lips. it comes out sounding just a little exhausted. 

(he glances at the dark bags beneath your eyes, but you don’t notice.)

”i think i might buy it in time for christmas break, though…” you lift your gaze to meet his own. showing the briefest glimpse of a smile, polite. 

he doesn’t return it. lips pursed, silent, gazing at you with slightly lidded eyes. a navy blue, little splotches of a murky green blooming in the corners of his iris. they only appear when you’re this close. soothing, somehow. they’re pretty.

he isn’t saying anything, not a single word, and some part of your heart clogs up like a clump of wet snow. subconsciously, you trap your bottom lip between your teeth, digging into the soft flesh before letting go. cowering a little under his intense gaze.

did you annoy him? 

(he probably doesn’t want to talk to you. maybe he thinks you’re hitting on him, or something. are you hitting on him? that doesn’t matter. he must be stressed — it’s holiday season, after all. the last thing he needs is some annoying customer taking up his precious reading time. 

gosh, what were you even thinking?)

you’re just about to excuse yourself, mentally berating yourself for forcibly striking up a conversation with an obvious introvert — 

when the sound of something sliding against wooden material catches your attention.

you blink.

the boy behind the counter does a little cough. under his breath, clearing his throat. he wets his lips, in what you immediately recognize as nervosity — absentmindedly fidgeting with the rings on his fingers. 

”here.”

when you look down, a certain book is placed on the edge of the counter, right in front of you. wuthering heights.

another blink. you look down at the hardcover, and then back up at him, but he’s not meeting your gaze. if you look closely, you think you see a slight flush to his neck, red like a candy cane. 

”you can borrow it,” he says. a pause. then he continues, clearing his throat again, a hint of hesitance in his raspy voice. ”… if you want to, i mean.”

”… ah.” is all you can answer. barely a word, more of a weak little hum. an absent tremble of your voice.

outside the comfort and warmth of the bookstore, the wind whistles, digging its claws into the city. tiny whirlwinds of snowflakes dance from street to street, fluttering about joyously. you vaguely pick up on the song from the speakers changing, into a poppy christmas-themed kpop song.

a moment passes.

your muddled mind finally reacts. on instinct, sending little instructions to your frozen limbs. to your heart, face down on the floor, completely useless.

”oh — no, there’s no need!” you blurt out, putting your hands up hastily. waving him off. ”it’s fine, i can just buy my own copy!” 

but the boy only clicks his tongue, with that signature furrow of his brows. ”you’re a student,” he states, just a little gruff. but then there’s that kindness. ”you shouldn’t waste your money.”

you’re just about to protest, when he continues. ”besides,” he sighs. ”i’ve already read it. you can just bring it back whenever you’re done.”

and again, your instinctual desire is to protest. unsure of what to say, somehow exasperated by his trust. that’s what it is, isn’t it? trust. trusting a stranger, a customer he’s barely even spoken to, not to just take his book and then never return. trusting you to be a decent person. a good person.

isn’t that naive?

something sprouts like a snowdrop in a ridge between your ribs, though, and you know that it’s happiness of some kind. you’re glad, that he has something even vaguely similar to trust in you. 

glad that he’s acknowledging you, in a way. your presence, the sneaky glances shared between you. the comfortable feeling that sleeps inside your veins when it's just you and him, silently passing each other by, in a quiet bookstore that feels a little like heaven on earth. a safe haven, of sorts, with no incompetent professors, tight deadlines or numb fingers.

it’s just him, and cozy christmas music, and a pitter patter rhythm of your heartbeat that sounds a little like jingle bells to your muddled mind.

a lump forms in the back of your throat. you gulp it back down, and part your lips. an unsure question spills into the open air. 

”are… you really sure?”

”yeah.” he doesn’t even skip a beat. fingers tapping at the edge of the counter, over and over again. another slow moment passes. ”we can… talk. about it.” he coughs into his closed fist. ”once you've read it.” 

with a soft furrow of his brows, he averts his gaze. his voice comes out sounding soft, albeit a little rough around the edges. ”if you want,” he adds.

you’re so distracted by the flutter of his long eyelashes that you barely even feel your lips stretch into a smile. your hearts skips around happily within the confines of your ribcage, and you’re worried that you might look a little too excited — but how could you ever hide your joy, when he’s acting so dangerously, uncharacteristically cute?

”yeah!” you blurt, teeth peeking out when you flash him a bright smile. and finally, he meets your gaze. pretty eyes fixed entirely on you.

at your evident enthusiasm, his shoulders seem to relax. the rapid tapping of his fingers ceases, and he opts to simply bite down on his lip — attempting to obscure his own smile. but you see it, anyway; a tiny, tiny smile. the softest little curl of his lips. you’re entirely mesmerized, all the same. 

a hand goes to rub at the back of his neck, and he does that cute little cough again, and you wonder if the warmth sprouting in your chest will be enough to protect you from the snowfall on your way back home.

angelic; that’s the impression he always seems to leave you with. you wonder if he has any idea just how pretty he is. if he has the slightest clue. you wonder if you’ll ever be able to tell him, yourself.

you wonder if you’ll get to know him, someday. if you’ll ever get to know the pretty, quiet boy behind the counter of your go-to bookstore, who radiates a softness so palpable you wish you could stay there until spring blooms beyond the windows and melts the frosted glass. 

with tentative hands, a little shaky — not from the cold, but the anxious and excited tingle of your bloodstream — you reach for the book on the counter. taking it into your arms, cradling it gently, like it’s so fragile the pages could scatter away if you aren’t careful. with a steady hand on its spine, you begin to flip through the pages, until three little words on the first blank page catch your attention. 

without thinking, you repeat the little scribbled down sentence under your breath. hoping for something. more lulls of his voice, maybe, mumbling to yourself but hoping he’ll hear.

”happy birthday, tsumiki…”

the boy stiffens. 

a silent beat. then he clears his throat. ”my sister,” he explains, and you hum.

so he has a sister. a tiny fragment of his existence, now known to you, a little piece of trivia. you want to collect them, want to put them all in your pockets and carry them around, like little precious bells. 

”megumi,” he blurts out, sudden, and you look up from the book to meet his gaze. ”my name,” he elaborates. and then a pause. ”i work here.”

…

in a matter of seconds, his face reddens. ears and neck slathered over with that sweet cherry hue, blooming across his pale skin. a soft giggle slips from your lips, before you can think to bite it back, and that red hue exacerbates. 

”mm,” you hum, an amused smile on your face. eyes crinkling as you look at him, book safe and secure in your arms. ”i've seen you.”

megumi looks a bit like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. squirming slightly, shifting from foot to foot, tugging a little at the sleeve of his sweater. looking into your eyes, and then back at the counter.

it’s sweet. it makes you feel closer to him, somehow. like you aren’t the only nervous one here. like you aren’t the only person in this city who’s a little bit of a mess. 

(it makes the sludge piling up inside your brain feel just a little more bearable.)

”… thank you.” you smile. ”i’ll take good care of it. and i’ll bring it right back when i finish it.”

a low hum. megumi brings a hand up to fix his bangs, nimble fingers running through dark locks. absentminded — a nervous habit, maybe? ”don’t worry about it,” is all he says. 

again, that sweet dichotomy; a hint of something gruff, hiding an unmistakable softness. a little like snow. cold to the touch, enough to make you want to stay away, but then it melts on the skin of your palm. turns soft and warm beneath your touch.

unable to fully hide the smile still lingering on your lips, you allow yourself one final inhale — letting that scent of peppermint and espresso invade your mind, soothing every frazzled nerve inside your brain. then you put wuthering heights in your bag, protected and snug, and get ready to leave. 

it’s still snowing. if anything, it seems to have gotten worse, enough that all you see when you glance towards the frosted windows are little clumps of snowflakes. obscuring everything else.

just when you’re about to speak, say a little goodbye, a voice spills out into the air.

”… the snow’s supposed to get worse. apparently.”

his navy eyes carry a gentle hue, as they look into yours. maybe a little worried, like a protective mother wolf towards her cub. you blink, and megumi sees it as his cue to continue.

”you can stay until it gets better.” 

a brief pause. his signature cough reaches your ears, and it’s enough to have you smiling, even before he adds a tiny if you feel like it. nonchalant, or at least you think that’s what he’s going for. he mostly just sounds like an awfully caring person trying awfully hard to appear uncaring.

and again, a little smile slips itself into the curl of your lips. all giddy and nervous, a little flustered. but happy. now you won’t have to walk through the relentless snowfall outside, feel the wind chew at your reddened cheekbones. now you can spend just a bit more time with him, bask in those quiet, drawn out moments of pure peace, browsing through books while he sits and reads behind the counter.

”thanks,” you breathe. adjusting your knitted scarf. ”i think i'll look at the books a little more, then.”

megumi’s eyes soften. relieved, you think. hope. it’s a subtle shift, but still enough to notice, enough to see. little splotches of a mossy green sinking into that sea of ink blue.

you think he must feel a little embarrassed, though. like he’s gotten too close to broaching the line he’s set up between the two of you. because he quickly fixes his gaze entirely on a book in his hands, a new one — was it just waiting beneath the counter? 

you don't think much of it, but you note that he's back to his usual nonfiction. something on astronomy, you think.

and with one final glance at his tousled hair, you begin to stroll through the store. languidly, walking to whatever spine captures your attention. savouring the tiny words on the back of the books, wallowing in the peppermint and espresso that wafts through the air, only growing heavier while you’re busy admiring the white opaque frosting of the windows’ glass. 

at some point, the low whirring of a coffee machine buzzes from afar, and when you turn to the counter megumi isn’t there. 

a little later, when he comes back, he’ll be carrying two mugs — matching dogs etched into the ceramic, one black and one white. he’ll put one of them on the edge of the counter, closest to you, and then meet your eyes. give a vague nod towards it, but nothing else. you’ll notice the red tint to his ears, though.

and when you do, a warmth will blossom in your chest, enough to chase away the phantom ache of the winter chill soon to envelop you.

when the little bell of the bookstore jingles its jolly tune, and the door shuts itself as you cross the threshold to leave, megumi lets out a barely audible sigh.

he thinks his heart may be beating just a smidge faster than usual, a little out of rhythm. palms against the counter, he allows his eyes to flutter shut — trying not to acknowledge the heat he feels on his face when he finally begins to process your interaction. 

he smooths a hand over his face, skin just a little sweaty. chewing at his bottom lip with two sharp teeth.

god.

really, it was no more than a stupid twist of luck. that you happened to come in just when he started reading it, that you noticed and didn’t question him on any of the contents. that you believed him when he said he’d already finished it.

and, sure, maybe he was secretly really hoping you’d come in. really hoping you’d notice it, that it’d be enough to make you strike up a conversation with him, something, anything. 

he happened to see you eyeing it once, that’s all. twice, and then thrice, each on different occasions. tsumiki’s old collection came in handy, rotting on the dusty shelves of her room — although he has no memory of her ever reading it.

(he remembers some, though. remembers her reading a few of them to him, on nights he couldn’t sleep. remembers the soft lull of her voice, how the whole world seemed blanketed by a wool of safety.

he wonders if he’ll ever get to hear it again.)

megumi’s heart feels warm. despite everything. 

even though he didn’t even get past the first half of wuthering heights, and has no idea what the hell he’s going to be able to talk to you about. even though he thinks heathcliff is a dick and catherine is a brat, and wishes they could save everyone else the trouble and just talk to a psychiatrist.

even with the cold baring its fangs outside, and the cup of espresso sitting right in front of him, still untouched, made with the store’s shitty coffee machine. even in the ugly sweater gojo forced him into. even though he doesn’t even really know you, not even at all, and still somehow feels certain that you’ll come back with tsumiki’s book in tow.

trust. 

megumi thinks it’s a little weird, how just that single overlapping of your gazes when you first stepped in seemed to solidify such an abstract notion. he’s always had a sense of it, though — a sense of goodness. an ability to seek them out, those good people, bubbly and cheerful and so tragically hard not to love. 

no matter where he goes, he ends up finding them. like tiny sunflower seeds persisting beneath the winter snow. blooming when spring comes around, in a burst of golden vermillion.

resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, megumi allows himself to wallow in the solitude of the bookstore. tired eyes soaking up the words on the pages he flips through, slowly, utterly at ease. drinking his shitty coffee, trying to ignore the itchy feeling of the sweater on his skin, unable to forget the memory of your stupidly pretty smile. 

so pretty he thinks it might just keep him warm, all throughout winter, until you return once more. bringing with you the glimmer of snowflakes on soft skin, and a pleasant fragrance of tea leaves from the cozy shop across the street.

a single sunflower, persisting even through the cold. 

megumi smiles. a tiny curl of his chapped lips, while he flips the pages of his book. content in the knowledge that this won’t be the last time he speaks to you.

(now he just needs to read up on some good papers on wuthering heights.)

#im just thinking abt ….. bookstore gumi who goes out of his way to only work the quiet lazy shifts . and all he does is drink coffee n read #so its like his selfcare time and he hates customers n gets annoyed when they come in PHDJD…. acting like he owns the store #but then u come in !! :< n ur presence is just so gentle and soothing . n the more he sees you the prettier u get in his eyes. #so he tries to silently impress u </3 reading ur fave books even if he doesnt like them <//3 cutie #just to be clear if a bookstore employee randomly offers u a cup of coffee Do Not drink it . even if hes hot. stay safe ✌️ #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro #megumi x y/n #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x gender neutral reader

[dumbasswithapen]

can we just listen to Disabled people when they say what accommodations they need??? Like it really isn’t that hard to just take someone’s word on what is best for their own body! Whether it’s more or less or different than what you deem they need it really isn’t your place to say!!!

Sometimes, people need more than they show! Especially if they’re used to being in pain all the time, then they won’t always display that discomfort.

Sometimes the accommodations someone needs are different than what you assume. A friend who struggles with noise sensitivity may ask for you to turn on a different type of music, instead of turning it down, and if that is what they express they need you don’t have to say “oh no I can just turn it down!” and ignore them saying that that isn’t necessary because your idea of noise sensitivity is different than their own experiences and needs.

And sometimes people need less than you try to provide! Or simply don’t want that accommodation at the time! And here’s the crazy part: this applies even if what they say to do could hurt them. Obviously this isn’t a rule for every situation*, but for some it absolutely is. If your friend wants to tag along for, say, a hike, and they have joint pain it isn’t your place to add in “oh no but they can’t do [the hike]! They’ll be in pain! We have to do something else to accommodate them!” If that person expressed a desire to go, especially if offered other options prior that wouldn’t hurt them, let them live. Let them do the thing that puts them in pain, because Disabled people don’t always want to be shoved into a little box of safety. Absolutely sometimes they do, and some might always want to, but if they don’t, then let them make their own choices for their body. Just as anyone else does. You go out and get drunk, even if it gives you a hangover. You go skating even if you’re shit at it and scratch up your knees a bunch. Just because someone is Disabled doesn’t mean that they can’t do the same thing and do that fun thing that hurts them.

I don’t know if I’m displaying my point how I want, so here’s my own example: I am allergic to the cold. Anything below 60 degrees (f) I get hives. Any water cooler than a fucking warm shower I get hives. My joints don’t do great when it’s cold out. This does not mean that when I say I want to go swimming, you can say “oh but you can’t you’ll get hives!” Or “no you can’t do that you’ll be in pain!” Because. I know that. I know that. I know my Disability better than anyone else can, and I can ask for accommodations I need. I am not a child to be wrapped in bubble wrap so I don’t get hurt. My body is my body and I can do with it what I want, and face the consequences. Likewise, just because I said I wanted to go swimming doesn’t mean that when I don’t want to go out and muck around in the snow it is anyone’s right to say “oh but you wanted to swim earlier, so obviously it isn’t that bad for you!” Or “oh it’s fine it’s not that cold! Just wear a sweater!” Because at that time I need and want different accommodations and that should be listened to and considered accordingly, as far as it can be in that situation.

Seriously. Just listen to us. We are in our own bodies. We know ourselves. It really isn’t that hard

*a situation where this point would be null is, for example, a situation where the person has been peer pressured into doing something, or one where you know the person well and know that the endurance of pain is a self-harming behavior

#disability #disabled #information #shi rambles #ableism #accommodation #cold urticaria #chronic pain #Like I get that my mom wants the best for me but I really know myself #If I avoided getting hives I’d be avoiding swimming at all. I’d not be having cold drinks or foods. I’d be not going outside #Even if I’m complaining about being in pain it doesnt mean that I don’t want to do the thing. It just means I don’t want to be in pain. #I know that won’t change but it’s not the change that matters it’s the expression of it #idk #actually disabled #ugh I don’t like wiriting that i feel like a fraud cuz im not disabled “enough” #It’s so fucking stupid I hate my brain

[utenixx]

Gojo accidentally comes out to Shoko in the worst way possible. More at 11.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk #shoko ieiri #my art #fanart #im not tagging geto bc hes not even here. #anyways Shoko and Suguru go out to drink like a bunch of delinquents with their fake IDs #Gojo's never noticed what bars they frequent bc he doesnt go. just that they go out to drink and he's not gonna babysit those bozos #they're fine they take the other Tokyo students with them and mess around like teenagers do #Gojo and Nanami hang out at the dorms like the non-alcoholics they are #well. Gojo bothers Nanami to Hangout. Nanami suffers.

[clottedscream]

“it’s just a warmup sketch,” i say to myself. “i’m just gonna warm up on shading and coloring. i’m just warming up on anatomy.” my spine crackles from sitting in shrimp stance for 2 hours. “just to warm up.”

#dairydraws #epithet erased #molly blyndeff #prison of plastic #jelloapocalypse #epithet erased prison of plastic #eepop #digital painting #molly is really fun to practice drawing hair on but i do kinda feel like i’m fighting against the skin tone in her ref whenever i draw her #i don’t even necessarily feel like i favor warmer or more saturated tones in general but idk #something about the color in her ref doesn’t mesh right with my painting style #i should try painting her lit in cooler toned light that might help #i was drawing her crying and then changed my mind #but i forgot to erase the little snot bubble. so i guess molly has a runny nose #the reason i got so carried away is almost definitely because the cafe im in is playing such slow relaxing music #i usually listen to pretty upbeat stuff when i draw #and it motivates me to go fairly fast. but i was just kinda enjoying myself and going with the rhythm of the lowfi beatstrumentals #this is a great cafe. the masala chai here fucking shreds #it’s so cardamom heavy and baby do i love cardamom #you know a tea at a cafe is good if drinking the stuff leftover at the bottom gets a lil grit in ur mouth #molly deserves a warm cup of masala chai frankly

[fear-no-mort]

i cant get over the whole time in the real world rick just sat there watching over morty and when he woke up finally rick sounded SO happy the way he just yelled his name excitedly the second he woke up,,,

#i miss them already…. #AND ALSO AT THE END. MORTY WAS KIND OF IN A WAY WHAT STOPPED RICK FROM JUMPING INTO THE HOLE TO SEE DIANE. #you saw him like look sad for a second that he wouldn’t get to see her but then his expression changed to a firm one when he decided he was #-going to put mortys picture on the wall and then his little smile after he did… morty isn’t dianes replacement hes even better than that #THATS HOW I SEE IT THOUGH. one of the biggest appeals of r&m to me is just how they are eachothers absolute favourite and they outweigh- #-everything the others ever known. i think this episode really showed that alot. #despite everything he’s seen and experienced mortys biggest fear is rick not caring about him #and like. that’s funny bc that’s a thing where everybody knows for a fact that’s literally impossible #the biggest contributor for why SO many things in the show have happened is rick loves morty more than anything #also that one part in the whole sequence with them growing up where it showed r&m drinking togehter that made me so happy bc like #it was one of those moments where i was like. Oh yeah duhdoy i almost forgot they’re going to be best friends for ever and ever #hhhgg. so many good things so much so much. also im probably not going to touch this episode for a week lol #i Need time ok. #rick and morty #rick and morty spoilers #odiespeak

[theloveinc]

There's a lot of validity in the idea that older Bakugo is a traumatized pro-hero with major PTSD... but you know what's kinda fucked up to think about? The fact that Bakugo is also a 22-year-old pro-hero with major PTSD even before that, too.

It's almost easy to imagine that things are actually better when he's older (the therapy finally a routine, the trauma long set and on the path to being healed)... and that it's his whole 20s that are spent as a pool of disaster trying to recover from the war(s).

He looks back and barely even remembers being twenty, much less twenty-five or twenty-seven. Barely remembers how little he slept, not at the hands of trying to balance hero work and getting a degree at the same time, but just out of the pure insomnia that came from trying to move on and every nightmare attached.

Hardly ever showering, never shaving (not that he ever grew much of a beard, but the facial hair was definitely there. There's pictures of him on the news with an awkward, grown out haircut and patches on facial hair that make him look positively... immature), barely even eating more than a few protein bars or an energy jelly drink-a day. It's a blur, and his friends are hardly there to pick him up out of it because they're all going through it, too. Somewhat.

It's definitely weird if you meet him during this period. He's not all there, at least, not all of the time. He doesn't really register your interactions, the friendship you extend to him (a younger, or ever older, version of him would've shown you that deep seeded ferocity in response, tried to bite the hand that fed him, even if it were love... but 20s Bakugo... doesn't seem to notice). Even though only one of his eyes is clouded over, the good one never seems to brighten up.

There's definitely moments when the old him shines through: when he's with Deku, when he's in the midst of battle, when he finds out that Todoroki still does a shitty job at chopping scallions. But it's a long time before he's even close to the same, able to step out from underneath the fog of simply surviving and into the sunshine of recovering.

But I think sticking through it with him is worth it.

(It's a weird moment, a happy moment, the first time you realize that Bakugo has changed. That the pouring rain outside hasn't bothered him since he showed up at your apartment. He forgot his umbrella, he's been quite careless ever since the war—wet and shaggy hair frizzed up, cheeks red from cold—but he doesn't seem to mind, with his bare feet up on your coffee table, his eyes gazing out the window. You hand his tea, and instead of gulping it down in one go, letting it burn in his throat, he winces at the heat.

"Tastes like shit," he says, and you laugh because it always does. Just this time, he noticed.)

#bakugou x reader #bakugo #this is what crocheting a baby hat does to u #no im jk i was just thinking abt bakugo being like 22 and awkward as h*ck bc he still hasnt recovered from the war #i wanna talk abt what he's like more but this is what came out instead LOL #like i think he's really stubborn abt ... coping with after effects of dying #and then before he knows it he has major depression LMFAOO #and he can like go to work get his degree do all he needs to do as a 20-something year guy #but he's not like. *there*. you know #and you meet him and he's a binch but he's not hard to get along with #and u just sorta take him in and drag him places like idk #your school's halloween night.. or even just a night out with ur friend (he doesn't even know how to order a drink) #and he doesnt even process it all until one day he's like 'dang it feels like ive been asleep for years' #and he kinda was #but he knows youre the one who helped him and now he wants to fix himself for you bc he remembers u being there for him #but he's so funny im imagining him with like. frat boy facial hair and a really outgrown ugly mullet type haircut #and lowkey with like. greasy skin (ik he's perfect but he's in a bad state and it shows) and he eats instant noodles ever day #and only watches japanese top gear #and goes on patrols where he beats the crap outta ppl and then doesnt remember it #DREAM BOY #and then he's big hero later #anyway #caitie post #gen

[bulkhummus]

happy new years from the town where time doesnt exist

[ID: Night Vale fanart of Esteban, Cecil, and Carlos sitting together on a couch for New Years. Cecil has his arms around the other two, who are sleeping, and is smiling fondly at them. The top set of Cecil’s eyes are looking at Esteban, and the bottom set are looking at Carlos. End ID]

@princess-of-purple-prose — thanks for the ID!

#a really quick and messy drawinf to finish out the year <3 #i has two big drinks and im drunk laying on my couch <3 #i did this drawing earlier so its ok #i just wanted to draw the. zonked out before the ball even drops #parents of a toddler vibes etc etc #wtnv #welcome to night vale #happy new year #carlos the scientist #cecil palmer #esteban wtnv

[dyketubbo]

i remember seeing someone call tubbo a fully grown adult at 19 (obvs before he turned 20) and i gotta say. i think maybe some people have a really skewed idea of what constitutes as "fully grown". and also what constitutes as properly mature. thinking that at 18/19 (or hell even at 20/21) people are now fully grown and mature is insane to me like yall thats how you get people thinking their life is over at like 23 and that 30 year olds are senior citizens 😭😭 be fr

#this is a problem no matter where you look but i think a lot of ppl in the mcyt fandom esp seem to think once youre- #-considered an adult at all that it automatically means youre fully grown and mature and thats just nooottt really true for most ppl #which i think can lead people down to sort of dangerous paths especially because 'adult' is often defined by age of consent #and theres also some slight cultural differences like even just between the us and the uk where due to 18yr olds being able to drink in- #-the uk (and other places) i think it genuinely causes some dissonance #where i see often in the us that when youre 18/19 youre still treated (id say rightfully) as being rather young and not Truly a grown adult #hence. yk. the term Young Adult #but i think in places where the drinking age is younger it starts causing people to see younger people as more mature #which is also why a lot of predators like to push for the age of consent to be at a younger age like 15 or 16 #and why many lolicons try to point at japans age of consent (which for the record is complicated and not as simple as just 'age of consent- #-is 13') as a defense for how they act #because these sorts of milestones (having sex and drinking) are seen as marks of a true adult. which gets into a whole lot of other #complicated things #and often dangerous things and ways of thinking #ANYWAYS . basically 18/19 isnt fully grown 20 is also hardly fully grown itself #and theres ways to combat people infantilizing tubbo and other creators his age without acting like hes actually #fully grown and mature lol. i promise you humans are not fully grown at 20 years old are you kidding me 😭😭😭😭 #if youre in your 20s you still have a lot of time and space to grow i promise. do not fall for the idea that your life is done by like 23 #idk. im only 18 myself but it just feels insane to me that if i were a creator people would be calling me a fully grown adult #not that im not an adult but i dont think im mature enough to be seen as fully grown and i guess itssss. sad? #to see other people my age think that turning 18 means youre fully grown. just really not true #theres a lot of 30 year olds who still see early 20yr olds as being practically babies we have Not made it to full maturity yet i prommy #mask mews

[mercisnm]

doodles of modern AU! Tissaia and Yennefer with their bikes, Yennefer has also bought a drink for herself, and one for Tissaia

#i colour like a 5th grader and at this point im too afraid to ask- #the witcher #tissaia de vries #yennefer of vengerberg #sometimes i draw things #tissaia has a honda super cub 50. tiny bike for tiny person #yennefer with her expensive japanese sport bike. a yamaha r6 or something. nobody know how she even bought that #of COURSE it has a custom paint job. with an unicorn sticker somewhere #also it's just my headcanon that whenever she buys drinks she will need to place the most maximalist order known to men #some are not yet even known to men #passion fruit green tea with tapioca pearls AND grass jelly plus cheese foam float. it tastes like it sounds. she tips generously though #tissaia just has a cup of oolong with oat milk and 0% sugar 25% ice and that's it

[daily-hanamura]

#p4 #p4g #persona 4 #persona 4 golden #hanamura yosuke #yosuke hanamura #i only picked “it can't be helped” recently because i originally interpreted it as a “yeah im pretty cool you being jealous is natural” #(IDK WHY BUT ANYWAY) #i'm so weak for instances when yu tries to impress on yosuke how similar they are because yosuke keeps talking about them being equals #but he also can't help but put yu on a pedestal and i think yu understands that even if he doesn't like it and doesn't think he deserves it #yu's “you think so?” in p4d when yosuke complains it's unfair to compare him to yu URGH yu knows it's not something yosuke can move on from #but he's doing his best to communicate that to yosuke anyway and he's just being patient and #yosuke please....... #anyway also pq2 when “he may be my partner but that doesn't apply to everyone else” #yosuke may you one day realise that yu doesn't just get jealous of other people like a normal person #he also gets jealous OVER YOU. #im chewing glass i'm drinking cement #he's good with his queue

[turochamp]

my au where theyre open season because i thought about it and liked it

#dungeon meshi #open season #kabru #laios touden #side note: did you know elliot is probs a whitetail deer and the rest of the deer in open season are most likely mule deer #here ive made laios a mule deer and kabru is obvi a blackbear like kermode bear maybe. he doesnt have the same boog backstory #but they would both have analogous backstories like laios gets kicked out for being a lyra heartstrings humanfanboy or something #oh also shaw is the winged lion and he still hits laios-deer with a truck even tho hes a bigass muledeer bc he has a bigger truck #in this i do think kabru is much more reluctant than boog to return but laios is way enthused for it #like the elliot drinking coffee scene with more weight or smth idk imagine shaw is a beautiful but evil 'big game hunter'=poacher #shaw as the winged lion i mean you have to imagine the cartoonish villain style im thinking like the villain from the missing lynx #doodles #ENJOY ALL #labru #boog as marcille would also work but i adamantly believe in open season as a gay romcom so i will not be making her kiss laios #i just dont think thats true