Tumgik
#see this wording is funny to me because we do not use avogadro's number to count collisions kajnsfkd
coffeebanana · 1 year
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they call it editing, which sounds nice and calm and concise but what's actually happening on a cellular level is that my last remaining neuron is bouncing around my empty skull incessantly as i bang words together, and statistically at some point, after an avocado's number of collisions, it'll eventually spit out the write words and i can note them down, bang them through a few more iterations, and eventually come up with something that keeps me up all night because i'm so damn excited about it lets me sleep at night and holy shit i love that feeling
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joeyglowy · 5 years
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Bad Study Habits ft. Miya Twins
In which the Miya Twins learn not to waste your time when they are the ones that asked for help. That, and that their necks are surprisingly quite sensitive. 
(Call it a commemoration for Miya Osamu finally having his character designs introduced, even if it’s the fucking laziest but most beautiful thing I’ve seen all week)
Miya Atsumu x Reader, 1500+ words Miya Osamu x Reader, 1700+ words
(I promise, I love them, almost equally)
Miya Atsumu
“Why do I need ta know Avocado’s number? Unless he’s down to help a brother getting blue balled by his own girlfriend, tell him I’m not interested.”
“It’s Avogadro’s number and for once in your life can you not think with your dick? We’re not here to have sex; I’m here to make you pass your chemistry test so you don’t get another detention for slacking off in class!”
For the past eighteen minutes, you had been using your middle and index finger to rub circles into your temple, a vain attempt to soothe the hammering headache that jabbed your eyelids each time Atsumu opened his mouth.
When your boyfriend had come to your door, ‘begging’ you to help him with chemistry, you found it pleasantly endearing. For all the faults to which Miya Atsumu had—for which there were many—he had unfortunately perfected the art of looking just sheepish enough that it became adorable while still bristling his feathers like a proud peacock that just made you want to pull his chubby cheeks. He was the naughty puppy that still had his ravenous canines punctured in your favourite lita boots with his tail tucked between his legs. He was that one bad kid in every class who fooled around but all the female teachers doted on him anyways because he was charismatic in that childishly infuriating way that made them lower their standards when he finally put in the effort.
Miya Atsumu, put bluntly, is a godforsaken brat.
“[Name]-chan! My chem teacher’s threatenin’ me! He said if I fail one more quiz I’ll have to sit through at least three detentions just, doin’ I don’t know, symbiosis! You gotta help me; you’re my girlfriend, aren’tcha?”
Yet, you somehow fell for this idiot anyway.
Enamoured with his honey-lemon eyes, you decided not to tell him that what you were doing was in fact stoichiometry and symbiosis is actually a biology term. But with the way he had grabbed your shoulders, for an inexperienced lover like yourself, it was more than enough to trigger a visceral reaction that caused some internal organ to clog your throat. His subtle guilt-trip did not go unnoticed but with your brain short-circuiting, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Instead, you had dumbly nodded, cursing your inability to deal with intimacy and members of the opposite sex as you allowed him to barge into your home.
Since he was always practicing, you thought it would be a chance to do something that couples do. Using your infinite knowledge collated from various fanfictions and shoujo manga online, you had constructed a seemingly infallible plan to make the most of your time with Atsumu. It involved having every excuse to stare at him without being teased for it and if anything, you would be in the rare position of the teaser, playfully pointing out his mistakes to which he’d probably pout and whine about before undoubtedly, once you were done, he’d demand a reward. Enter obligatory make out sesh. Which of course, was more than welcome in your book. You were a simple girl and he had cultivated excellently curved muscles from his years of volleyball, sue your transparency.
There was just one chink in your perfectly polished armoured plan.
Atsumu was a brat above all else. A horny one.
Tutoring him was like trying to make caramel for the first time.
At first, you think it’s going well. You’re simmering the white sugar, careful and attentive, determined to make it a success. Yet, as the browning starts to come in from the edges, a funny aroma that was not the scent of sweetness but one of something being grossly burned beyond recovery did you realise just how taxing the job was. Before you knew it, it was like having your kitchen on fire, the ignition source being the abomination that is Miya Atsumu.
As Osamu would say, “His mental age regresses by five years when he’s playing. . . but it plummets by ten when he’s, god forbid it, studyin’.”
If he wasn’t whining, he was trying to stroke your legs with his spider fingers under the kotatsu, creeping up your thigh only to be smacked away by your own hand to which he’d just go back to loudly whining. He had the attention span of a five year old and the attitude of a twelvie that equalled a near migraine for you. Least to say, you were far too annoyed to be turned on now so you had abruptly gotten up in a fit of annoyance, told him you were going to drink some water and left him in the living room.
You sighed, the water only granted a moment’s worth of reprieve as you headed back to the living room to see his honey coloured mop of hair from behind. Your eye twitched when you looked from behind to see him doodling an avant-garde penis on the page. Lovely.
He still hadn’t noticed you peering over his shoulder so you took the chance to admire the back of his head, watching how his hairline faded out from beneath his undercut, the roots of his old hair still left their stain. You wondered if his neck down ever got cold, with the constant exposure and all. The longer you stared, the more you felt your stomach lurch, toying with a lingering thought that just might get you what you wanted after all.
In a swift movement, with your lips gently planted on the supple flesh, beneath his hairline, you caressed the skin tenderly. Your lips quirked upward to hear a squeak from your boyfriend who had shuddered violently, his shoulders shaking as his penis drawing gained an unexpected gradient slope, his pen streaking in a straight line across the page. You chuckled into his neck; nipping at it playfully as your hot breath caused the hairs on his neck to stand up. Pleased with the pinkish hue that spread across the skin like paint, you pulled away as Atsumu snapped his head towards you, moon eyed.
Although you may have burnt the caramel, it looks like you’ve found some hidden strawberries to snack on instead.
You watched the way his pretty blush flourished to his cheeks while he looked visibly affronted by your sneak attack. “Wh-what do ya think yer doin’!?” he spluttered on the spot, his hand flying to his neck as if you had just bitten into it. You wanted to lick your lips at the thought before you narrowed your eyes sternly, trying not to let a wolfish grin slip through the cracks.
“I don’t know about you but personally, I despise wasting time, don’t you ‘Tsumu?”
You drummed your fingers on the kotatsu’s surface, slow and pronounced. His golden eyes zeroed onto them in anticipation. You licked your lips. All these food metaphors made you realise just how starved you are. Atsumu being someone who had always been observant, seemed to pick up on your hunger as well, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, as he glanced up at you from under his lashes, anxious. You turned back to the paper, almost nonchalant, as if you weren’t aware of his clenched fists and tensed thighs.
“Yet, you seem to be taking advantage of my generosity, good boyfriends shouldn’t do that ‘Tsumu. You’re a good boyfriend, aren’tcha?” you drawled lowly, as you started glancing at your nails using your other hand, viciously using his guilt-tripping tactic from before.
Atsumu looked positively famished. His brows twisted up guiltily, that sheepish, puppy look on his face once more. Still, you could see his eyes shining too bright, still thinking that it’d go his way if he played nice. He was a mischievous imp that was a little too used to getting what he wants. You decided you weren’t going to fall for it this time.
“[Name], I didn’t--”
“Oh, but you did,” you sharply interrupted him and he winced. Your heart throbbed and as much as you loved teasing him, you did want this to end with him pinning you to the couch so you smiled softly. “Why don’t we finish studying, yeah? Then you can make it up to me.”
If Atsumu wasn’t getting blue balled before, then he certainly is now. He had no idea how the situation began to drip with sexual undertone but with the unbearable heat coursing through him, he could only nod helplessly, at your mercy. For the remainder of the studying session, while it had become increasingly harder for him to stay focused with his raging hormones going haywire, he clung onto every single word that fell from your mouth like it was a lifeline as the incomprehensible scribbles on the page finally morphed into numbers and words that he could understand.
You grinned victoriously to see the eager look Atsumu would get in his eyes, awaiting your praise and what he thinks is his reward once you had both finally gotten through the content. He really is just like an overzealous, whiny puppy that wants his treat. Well now, this will most certainly result into an exciting night for you, just as you had planned.
You smirked triumphantly.
‘All according to keikaku.’
Miya Osamu
“So, do you know how to use Avogadro’s number?”
“Mm? Avocado?”
You sighed. “No, can’t you stop thinking about food for a second, it’s Avo—Osamu!” you yelped, seeing your boyfriend barely stirring from the nest he’s made with his arms as he blinks blearily at you. The sleep in his eyes quite nearly breaks open every dam with the unparalleled force that is your love and affection and ability to just gush about how adorable this man is for hours and yet, you are forced to restrain yourself. As much as you adore Miya Osamu, he is unfortunately, just as much of an idiot as his brother—yet strangely manages to get within a range of 1 to 5 per cent higher than him on every test.
Osamu lets a little smile slip. “Avosamu? I thought it was Avogadro.”
You offered him a hard glare before deflating into the kotatsu, just like he did. He perked his head up to hear your muffled groans, his lips quirking up at how cute you sound. “Osamuuuu, you need to study for the test tomorrow! It’s worth a third of your grade!” you exclaimed, erupting from the cocoon of your arms to pout at him. Osamu grimaced just a little because every move he made was with restraint as he guiltily looked away.
“I know but m’tired,” he mumbled into his arms, burying his nose into them. “From practice,” he clarified with a grumble that faded out into something roughly incoherent. You had to stop yourself from smiling at his petulant tone of voice as you sighed, shaking your head. He was a kid, just like Atsumu too apparently.
“I know but . . .” you trailed off to see him in a sleeping position. You shook your head, unable to stop your smile this time as you gently raked your fingers through his hair. A sound rumbled from his chest and you snorted, of course only Osamu would be able to do the human equivalent of purring. His face resurfaced from the blanket of his arms as he leaned into your touch, sighing contently. You found your hand devoured by the dishevelled mess that was his hair as you fondly played with his matted grey tresses. Your love for this man warmed your heart beyond words as you could feel yourself relaxing—you blinked.
Wait a minute.
The way you ripped your hand out of his hair was like a splash of cold water to the face as he startled, bewildered by your forceful action as you glowered at him. “You fox!” you hissed. He blinked innocently in return as you shook your head adamantly. “I will not be an accomplice to your illicit sleeping endeavours! Nor the reason why you fail tomorrow’s test and have to stay back to do catch up work! Atsumu and the team would never let you live it down you know!”
You clutched your beating heart with a flush on your cheeks. ‘Ahh, that was close! He’s much more convincing than I thought but I won’t be fooled!’
You offered him another glare before sighing. You’d done that too many times this session you now realised. “Look, I’ll get you some tea, okay? But after that, you have to stay awake! You’ll be in big trouble if I come back and you’re asleep,” you softly reprimanded him although he looked completely unabashed as he nodded.
“Mm’kay.”
You were only gone for five minutes but when you had returned . . . he was definitely in trouble.
You gripped the steaming cup of hot tea by the handle; careful not to brush your knuckles on the actual cup so you don’t burn yourself and spill it like a waterfall. Carefully, you placed the cup of tea out of reach so he doesn’t knock it over before you plopped onto the cushion next to him, pouting. Really, coming over, begging you to help him study, only to fall asleep in front of you, what a tease. . .
“Jeez, I was hoping for some, fun times after we finished up too~” you whined to yourself, letting your chin fall to your fist before a movement other than your own caught you from the corner of your periphery.
You narrowed your eyes. His lashes flickered like a butterfly’s wings, elegant yet silent. Then nothing. You drummed your fingers slowly on the kotatsu’s surface before aptly concluding that your, apparently, asshole boyfriend, was faking his slumber. Your Sleeping Beauty was actually a Beast in disguise so it would appear. You pursed your lips, blowing air from your nose like a puffing, huffing steam train. He wants to play like that, does he?
You swiftly rose out of your seat before standing behind him, your shadow devouring him. You just might too if Osamu doesn’t tread carefully. You eyed his fraying hairline, beneath his undercut. You wondered how sensitive it would have now become, what, with it being constantly exposed to the frigid air all the time. A smile coyly played to your lips, as you hummed kittenishly before leaning down.
Tenderly, you placed your lips to the back of his neck, giving it a quick peck.
You looked up, gauging for a reaction but received none. You smiled daringly. Perhaps your dear boyfriend needs a bit more persuasion. You pressed another kiss into his neck. And another one. Accompanied by another. Before you began peppering his neck in searing kisses, from the roots of his hair to the brim of his collared uniform. You watched in delight as the skin gradually increased in heat while you continued to reap the benefits of your ravenous exploits.
You could feel the skin beneath your lips beginning to tremble but since he still wouldn’t reveal he was awake. . . it might be time to go exploring. You hovered over his ‘sleeping’ frame as both your hands slithered under the arms pillowing his face. They coiled around his waist and you found yourself licking your lips, suddenly feeling rather hungry. You could see him beginning to squirm yet he was adamant not to budge. A wolfish laugh escaped you as you plunged your fingers under his shirt to dance on his stomach before your teeth finally met his skin.
The last thing you heard was a sharp gasp that sounded like absolute heaven before your world turned on its axis. Your back met the ground with a thud and you suddenly realised you couldn’t move. Casually taking a quick glance, you craned your neck to see two calloused fists handcuffing your wrists and pinning them above your head. You looked up to finally see a panting Osamu, glaring at you.
“Oi.”
You blinked.
Osamu was every shade of grey. Every expression, every movement, although a little rough, it was done with minimal effort and restrained. He was always in control and always composed. He was a little slow and sluggish like that, but he could become a dynamic black, cool and confident whenever you pluck just the right strings.
Which is why it was all the more endearing to see a lovely peach pink speckling on his cheeks.
“What,” he breathed out, as if he had just sprinted in a marathon, you could see his torso trembling, “do ya think yer doin’?”
You watched him placidly and couldn’t stop admiring the pretty colour on his cheeks. You wanted to capture it, burn it in your memory until your final breath. You wanted to paint it, to smear the red all over his grey. You licked your lips.
“I told you, didn’t I? That you would be in trouble if I came back to find you sleeping. So pray tell, what were you doing, ‘Samu?” you purred beneath him, a playful smirk crawling to your lips as you felt a pooling sensation bubble in the pit of your stomach.
Osamu’s eyes widened and even though he had overcast a shadow on the both of you, you could tell that his cheeks had darkened. He suddenly looked like a deer caught in headlights and he could no longer meet your gaze. With an agonisingly slow movement, he tentatively released one of your wrists to feel the back of his neck.
“D-did you . . .?” he stammered, not able to bring himself to finish the question.
Picking on what he was insinuating, using your left hand, now free, you roughly grabbed him by the collar before pulling him down. He yelped like a puppy that had lost its footing, as he lurched forward like a tidal wave, almost tumbling over, quickly stamping his free hand to the ground, stopping him from knocking his head into your as you curled your finger under his chin.
“No, I didn’t. I warned you though, right? If you try to fall asleep again when I’m teaching you. . .” you slur, tracing your finger, teasingly let it tap on his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, his eyes now wide awake and focused only on you as you grinned hungrily.
“I’ll decorate your neck with hickies until you’ve got a goddamn necklace of bruises.”
Osamu shuddered as he fell to his elbows, barely holding himself up. Feeling his voice shake, he meekly nodded, trying to hide his arousal as he shakily—but briskly—flew back to the kotatsu, promptly hiding his face from you, just like a mouse.
You bit your lip, grinning wildly at the ceiling which although, was completely uninteresting, was the only excuse you had to not let him see your dorky smile.
‘HOLY SHIT THAT WORKED. Reading all those fanfics and manga finally paid off!’
You can’t let yourself come off as too desperate though. You realised that you had been waving the stick in front of him for too long now, it was time to finally bring out the carrot.
You propped yourself, being deliberately slow as to keep him waiting before you tenderly held onto his shoulder. You could feel him tense you brushed your nose against the lobe of his ear, your wispy breaths dyeing it pink as you whispered:
“When we’re done, I promise, you can eat whatever you want.”
While he didn’t fall asleep and actually got some proper studying in afterwards, perhaps it was him being petty or a vain attempt to gain back some control, he did not offer you his dick but went straight for the fridge to get some pudding. Still, it didn’t change the fact that you were hungry and Osamu found out that night that not only were you quite convincing yourself but you also really liked turning his neck red.
Hmm. And you called him a fox.
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Pantheism
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You both like philosophy.
Stranger: Hasta La Vista
You: What is your opinion on Boredom?
Stranger: I think it's bad, but it's pretty low down on the scale of bad things.
You: Why do we feel boredom?
You: especially when there is always so much to do
Stranger: My mother always says, 'A bored person is a boring person'.
Stranger: Which is kinda ironic if you think about it.
You: I think your mother is a sensible woman
You: I think we also feel bored because we are almost always overly stimulated
You: No more room for our imaginations to breathe and explore
Stranger: I agree. I blame TV ande computers.
Stranger: When I was a kinder I played with spoons and pencils.
You: Always, we are pushed to do things, look at things, distractions
Stranger: Short attention-spans.
You: a kinder hahaa are you german?
Stranger: No I just felt like adopting that word.
You: I admire your linguistic diversity. What do you think the purpose of language is?
Stranger: To communicate ideas.
You: Can we ever really do that though?
You: Is the idea I have the same for you when I paint it with words?
Stranger: I dunno, if I say 'there are three elephants in the next valley', and you have some picture involving elephants and three of them, I think I got what I needed.
You: I suppose in an evolutionary way, but isn't language more than that? I'm reading a book on the evolution of the homo sapiens and it discusses how language is much more meaningful
You: Other animals have language too then
Stranger: Grunts and ooks.
You: A dolphin can communicate an idea as well as we can, what makes our language different?
Stranger: We can probably communicate more complicated ideas.
Stranger: I've never seen a dolphin in a calculus class.
You: hahhah touché
You: Calculus is funny
You: Do you think mathematics are inherently part of the UniverseÉ
You: ?
Stranger: Oh that's a question of Platonis
Stranger: *platonism
You: Indeed. Pythagoreans seemed to think that mathematics were the independent substrate of reality.
You: So, did we invent mathematics or discover them?
You: And what does that say about the universe we live in?
Stranger: That's an interesting question.
Stranger: I guess I could say 'did we invent temperature?'
Stranger: The concept and its interrelations are always there, surely
Stranger: But it wasn't called 'celsius' and measured in degrees
Stranger: It just was
Stranger: *fahrenheit for the Americans
You: Yes I see your point. But what about mathematical constants that we use in this constructed language of measurements?
You: What would life be like if Plank's constant was different?
You: If Avogadro's number was off by 1 or 2
You: Would life have evolved differently, if at all?
Stranger: Some people say so; they believe everything has to be finely tuned for the universe to enjoy life, mankind and Oprah
Stranger: (the next evolution of mankind)
You: hahahah you have a dry wit about you that I can't help but smile at, friend.
You: I often wonder if I am the only one who wonders these things. It appears I am not.
You: I am very uncomfortable in the world we live in, and I'm not sure why. All of it seems so very alien at times.
Stranger: The natural world, or the man-made world?
You: Civilization
You: I enjoy taking retreats into Nature
You: I feel more at peace with things, less worried about everything
You: Knowing I am in good hands
Stranger: Yes, you're definitely not alone in that. It's the reason city-slickers long for countryside holidays.
You: Isn't it funny how we long for the every day interaction of the city life, but sometimes feel equally compelled to simply leave it all behind? Humans are strange and paradoxical creatures
You: We are never comfortable and always need just that little something more
You: We long for that which we cannot have
Stranger: It's almost poetically tragic. The poor and aspirant dream of wealth, and zealously work the accrue it. The rich find their treasures empty and unfulfilling, and eye the integrity and homeliness of simple life.
Stranger: *to accrue
You: I won't ask you what humans want, but I would like to know what you, as a human being (presumably) want/
You: What do you want to experience?
Stranger: I'm a complex mish-mash of base desires and intellectual hopes mixing together.
Stranger: On some levels, I want to be rich, famous and desired.
Stranger: On others, I want to know everything and study the mysteries of life.
Stranger: And on another, I just want to be a better person.
You: I couldn't have said it better myself
You: It's amazing how despite all our disparities, our distinctions seem to be bridges rather than barriers
Stranger: A community is a union of unlikes.
You: Do you think it is possible that we are all fundamentally the same consciousness?
You: That we are that which has been created?
You: first we wanted to make, then we wanted to experience what we had made?
Stranger: That's some crazy talk. I definitely think (most) people have many points of common interest, similar ways of viewing the world (this is why jokes and books work), and such in common.
Stranger: Perhaps this is the result of us all having basically the same DNA.
Stranger: Compared to a potato, anyway.
Stranger: On the other hand, we are individuals. When I talk to someone with a radically different political or philosophical worldview to my own, I come up against how two people can take the same thing and go in very different directions with it.
You: But isn't the multiplicity of perspectives the purpose of life? To learn and to have fun in any and every way imaginable? Do distinctions take away from the tangential experiences all of us as a collective would have wanted to experience life?
You: We are not all the same, what I am suggesting is that we all receive our conscious logos from the same place
You: For example, what would you do if you were a God?
You: Would you only want to create worlds and watch them from the outside?
You: Or would you want to partake in the life you have sprung from your hands, take all of its different twists and turns and feel surprised because you don't know where it will take you
Stranger: I think you're a closet pantheist.
Stranger: It's OK - it's 2018.
You: I'm not in the closet, I am an open pantheist
You: I'm merely sharing my world view with you
You: But my views are much more complex than that
You: Unfortunately I have to make it to a class on the other side of campus
You: It has been quite a pleasure, stranger
Stranger: It's a been a rare and genuine delight. I wish you all the good things in life.
You: To you as well, conversations like this are what keep me from ending it all
You: Much love
Stranger: Adios, muchacho.
You have disconnected.
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