#short circuit cognitive dissonance

[swirley1618]

[sereia4skz]

twoshot | cognitive dissonance: flirtation & fault lines

pairing: poly!minsung x f!reader

warnings: academic rivals/enemies to lovers, minsung, banter?, kinda slow burn

word count:

< part 1: uncontrolled annoyance | request

The library smells like paper and panic.

You check your phone, 10:42 PM, and shove it back into your tote bag before you start spiraling about how little time you have left to finish your group presentation on social conformity.

You find them in the farthest, darkest back corner of the third floor: Han Jisung is half-asleep on the study table, hoodie bunched up under his cheek like a pillow. Minho is beside him, eyes glued to a case study, pen spinning between his fingers like a loaded weapon.

You drop your stuff on the table with a thud. “Let me guess: one of you forgot the reference list and the other refuses to admit it.”

Minho doesn’t look up. “We’re waiting on you. Han short-circuited half an hour ago.”

You glance down. Jisung’s face is slack, lips parted in the beginnings of a snore, a smear of highlighter across his cheekbone like war paint.

You raise a brow. “He’s literally drooling.”

“Think of it as his brain leaking.”

You blink, surprised. That was… almost a joke.

You sit down. Minho slides a folder toward you. “I revised your section on informational influence.”

You flip through it. Your notes are still there, but cleaner, sharpened. Like he didn’t erase your thoughts, just polished them. It throws you off more than it should.

“You didn’t have to-”

“You were rushing,” he says flatly. “I could tell.”

You look up. His eyes meet yours, unreadable as ever. “…Thanks.”

His pen stops spinning. Then, quietly: “You’re welcome.”

You don’t know why that feels more intimate than it should. Just words, just voices in a library corner. And yet “I hate when you’re nice,” you mutter, just to break the tension.

He scoffs, dry. “Good. I hate when I am.”

An hour later, Jisung stirs beside you.

You’re mid-sentence, reading aloud from your laptop, when his head drops right into your lap.

You freeze. Minho freezes.

Jisung sighs and nuzzles closer like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “So warm,” he mumbles. “Don’t move. I’ll die.”

You glance at Minho in pure panic. He stares at you both like he’s just walked into a glitch in the simulation. His jaw tightens, fingers pausing mid-highlight stroke. “Is he… serious?”

“Who knows,” you whisper back, terrified to wake him.

Minho leans back in his chair. “You could move him.”

“You move him.”

“No.”

You exhale through your nose. “He's your roommate, stop staring like you’re jealous.”

His eyes flick to yours. “I’m not.”

It’s too fast. Too defensive.

You blink. “Wait. Are you actually?”

“I said I’m not.”

Silence. Jisung shifts slightly in your lap and you reflexively place a hand on his head to still him. Minho watches. Something flickers across his face, unreadable. You go back to typing, pretending you don’t feel his eyes burning into your skin.

By midnight, you’re done. 

Your document is saved, cross-checked, and uploaded. Jisung is still dead to the world. You consider nudging him awake but… he’s warm. And peaceful. And honestly? You’re kind of enjoying this. Not that you’ll ever admit it out loud.

Minho packs up slowly. “You should wake him,” he says, but it sounds like a suggestion, not a command.

You glance at Jisung again. “What if I just… don’t?”

Minho snorts. “You want to babysit him overnight?”

“I’m not heartless. He looks tired.”

“He is tired. He stayed up last night trying to write a mnemonic for normative social influence using Pokémon names.”

You blink. “Wait. That was him?”

“Mm. He wrote: ‘Norman Seeks Ivysaur: Classic Under Pressure.’”

You wheeze. “That’s… genius.”

“Idiotic.”

“Creative.”

Minho sighs. “You’re both insane.”

You smile a little. “And yet here you are.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he walks over to your side of the table, crouches low, slowly, and reaches out.

You hold your breath as his hand brushes Jisung’s cheek, gently patting him awake. It’s soft. Uncharacteristically so. Like he’s done this before.

“Han,” Minho murmurs. “Wake up. You’re drooling on the enemy.”

Jisung stirs. “Mmh… she’s not the enemy. She’s warm…”

You glare at Minho, cheeks heating. Minho only smiles. 

Fifteen minutes later, the three of you are standing outside the library. The air is cold. Jisung is still half-asleep and clinging to your arm like a koala. Minho stands a few steps away, hands in his coat pockets.

You say, “We did good tonight.”

Jisung hums. “We did great. We’re the dream team. You guys love me.”

“Delusion,” Minho mutters, but for a split second, barely a flicker, his lips curve upward. Barely-there. A glitch in the matrix.

You think: oh no. You think: I’m in trouble.

You don’t realize you’re still holding Jisung’s hand until he squeezes yours once, sleepy and soft.

⋆｡°✩

You spread your notes on the small café table in the student union, laptops open and coffee cups dangerously close to tumbling.

Minho leans in, eyes sharp and unblinking as he points to a bullet in your slide deck. “Your wording here is too vague. ‘Significant conformity effects’ doesn’t cut it. We need numbers, specifics.”

You snap back, “Well, maybe if you hadn’t rewritten my entire section last night without telling me, I’d know what I was supposed to put.”

He smirks like it’s a challenge. “Consider it helpful criticism.”

Jisung bounces a little in his chair, smirking too but rubbing his eyes like he’s survived a zombie apocalypse. “Guys, maybe cut the academic sass? We’re supposed to be on the same team.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. Jisung always breaks the tension, even if he’s barely awake.

Minho shoots you a glance and then deliberately reaches out to grab the pen you were using, his fingers brushing yours. The contact is brief but electric, and your heart stutters.

“Hey,” you say, pulling your hand back, but the corner of your mouth quirks upward. “Don’t steal my tools.”

“I’m just borrowing,” he replies, voice low. “Like I borrowed your notes.”

“You mean polished my notes.”

He leans back, cocky. “Semantics.”

Jisung groans, throwing a crumpled paper ball at Minho’s head. “Can we focus before you two start whatever this is?”

You catch Minho’s eye again. There’s something in his look, maybe challenge, maybe interest. You can’t tell, and that drives you crazy.

Later, you’re rehearsing your parts aloud. Your voice cracks when you forget a line, and you feel Minho’s gaze sharpen, like he’s waiting for you to mess up again.

Jisung nudges you and whispers, “Ignore him. You got this.”

Minho steps closer during your next line, standing so close the heat from his body brushes yours. His voice drops an octave, “You’re better than this.”

You swallow. “Thanks, I think?”

He smirks. “You’re welcome. For once.”

Jisung watches the two of you with amusement, flicking his pen between his fingers but not saying a word.

The air hums with something unspoken.

After practice, you’re all a little breathless, not just from talking, and you realize the lines between rivalry and something else have blurred more than you expected.

Minho packs up first, but before he leaves, he pauses and says quietly, “Don’t underestimate me tomorrow. I’m not just here to compete.”

You glance up. “What, you want to win and mess with me?”

He grins, eyes dark and teasing. “Maybe.”

Jisung rolls his eyes but you catch the way he’s watching Minho’s back, protective and soft all at once.

You feel dizzy, tired, excited, and definitely distracted. Tomorrow’s presentation? It’s going to be interesting.

⋆｡°✩

The lecture hall buzzes with low murmurs as you and your group file in, papers and laptops in hand. The air smells like fresh coffee and adrenaline.

Minho catches your eye from across the room, arching a brow like he’s daring you to mess up.

Jisung is beside you, practically vibrating with nervous energy, whispering, “Deep breaths. We’ve got this.”

You swallow hard and take your spot at the front, heart pounding louder than the projector humming behind you.

The first few slides go smoothly. You speak clearly, voice steady, and even Minho nods at a well-made point. But then, halfway through, Jisung stumbles over a key statistic. The data you triple-checked turns into a jumble of numbers on his tongue.

You see Minho’s eyes flash, sharp and ready to pounce. 

But instead of cutting him down, Minho steps in. “Don’t worry, Jisung. Let me take that one,” he says, voice smooth but low enough only your group can hear.

You blink, surprised, as Minho clarifies the stat with a confident grin, giving Jisung a quick nod that says, You’ve got this.

The tension in the room lifts.

When it’s your turn again, Minho leans just a bit too close as you present your conclusion.

“Impressive,” he murmurs. “Maybe you’re not such a threat after all.”

You flush but keep your composure. “Careful, Minho,” you say. “Don’t let the competition turn into a crush.”

He grins wider, eyes sparkling with mischief. “We’ll see about that.”

After the presentation, Jisung drags you both to a quiet courtyard.

He grins, eyes twinkling with exhaustion and victory.

“We killed it,” he says. “Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

Minho chuckles, ruffling Jisung’s hair. Then he looks at you, softer this time.

“Good job,” he says quietly. “Seriously.”

Your heart skips. “Thanks,” you breathe.

And just like that, the line between rivalry and something more feels a little thinner, maybe ready to be crossed.

⋆｡°✩

The sun’s setting low, casting a warm glow over the courtyard. You lean back on the bench, the weight of the presentation lifting, replaced by a strange flutter in your chest.

Minho stands a little too close, arms crossed, smirking like he’s daring you to say something.

“You know,” he says, voice smooth and low, “I might have to start letting you win just to keep things interesting.”

You raise an eyebrow, a slow smile tugging at your lips. “Is that your way of flirting? Because it’s subtle.”

He grins wider. “Maybe. But I’m a sucker for competition.”

Jisung, sitting beside you, nudges your arm with a grin. “You’re both impossible.”

Minho leans down just enough that you catch the faint scent of his cologne, fresh, a little spicy. Your breath catches.

“Tell me, do you get this competitive with everyone, or am I special?”

Your heart thumps a little faster. “Definitely special,” you reply, voice steady but softer.

His eyes flash, amused, challenged, and maybe something warmer.

Jisung clears his throat loudly, breaking the moment. “Hey, lovebirds, want to grab some food? My treat.”

Minho laughs, stepping back but throwing one last glance your way. “Sure. But I’m warning you… I’m not done winning.”

You shake your head, but inside, you’re smiling. Because for the first time, the rivalry feels less like a battle and more like the start of something you didn’t see coming.

< previous part

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[shini--chan]

So, I love your take on religion being used to manipulate, since I'm also from a religious background and know how it can be. What if the s/o tried to use religion against them though? I'm not sure which ones are in your religious manipulation headcannons, but for the ones that are, what would happen if the s/o used religion as an excuse against them such as, "You are sinning/lustful/controlling towards me and God will judge you."

Yandere Hetalia - Holy Fire

Trigger warnings: manipulation, repentance, implied abuse

Spain would chuckle at your attempts and deflect through other passages from the Bible. That would be the most acknowledgment to wrongdoing you'd get from him. While he would be aware of some of it, he would deem it as a lesser evil and as not so tremendous as you would paint it out to be. Maybe he'd even turn the tables on you, and cite the Bible when punishing or chastising you and say that you would need him in your life to put you. Quoting the Bible to him would be seen as proof of his good influence. Antonio would condescendingly praise you for your piousness and “endeavour to work on” his vices. 

On the flip side, if you wouldn't be a practising Christian - especially a Christian of his leaning, then he wouldn't take any religious lectures from you. The saying “where there is no plaintiff, there is no judge” would apply for him here, and you wouldn't apply here as a legitimate plaintiff since you wouldn't follow the correct teachings. Your chastising might be circumvented into a theological lecture. 

Poland would play along with you and at the end of your triade he would explain that all of his wrongdoings would be alright since he would diligently repent for his sins. Felicks would then show you his cilices and his other means of penance. Since you'd have expressed interest in it, he would propose you do some thorough fasting when Lent would arrive again. And offer to help you with your own repentance. Confession would also suffice here.

You bringing up religion and sin would actually give him some ideas. He would consider talking more about heaven and hell to get you to act according to his wishes. Religious undertones would pop up in his conversations with increased frequency. Maybe he would let you out in order to take you to church with him. The other parishioners and the pastor would believe him over you, mind you. 

Norway would just shrug his shoulders and tell you that since he would be going to hell anyway for his past sins, that damning himself a bit more would make a difference. Lukas wouldn't tell you, but your words would resonate with him. He wouldn't be able to suppress the voice of admonishment that your chastisement would awaken in him. Inevitable, you would be treated a little bit better, though he still wouldn't let you free. 

Should you persist and say the right words at the right time, then he might relinquish you. Big emphasis on might, though - you would be a very fine human and he would loath to part from you. He might seek out a priest for advice and your future would be dependent on the wisdom the latter would impart. 

America would be befuddled by your talk. The idea that you would be right just would compute and cognitive dissonance would kick in before he'd ever acknowledge the merit of your statements. While it might be funny to see his facial expression when his brain would short circuit, the aftermath would be pleasant should it come to that. Said aftermath would entail him lashing out at you in various forms. 

That aside, the usual reaction would be to look around for this other person you are talking to and then incredulously point to himself when he'd notice that there would only be the two of you. Alfred might even ask you why you're talking to yourself in the second person. Once you would make it clear that you'd be talking to him, he'd let out a nervous laugh, as if you were insane, and then steer the conversation to other topics. 

Israel would snigger and pinch your cheeks. It would just be so cute to him that you'd recite scripture and sermons and gospel. He would be very aware of his flaws and crimes, yet would never admit so to you or anybody else. It would be a necessary evil and soon, your relationship would be stable and happy and all the trouble and strife and violence of the beginning would be a dark, distant memory. 

David would play with the idea of allowing you some more freedoms as a token of goodwill, but would ultimately dismiss the idea. You would first have to bend to his will and rules before you could truly have an enjoyable life with him. 

[kemalamalam]

could you imagine if Trevelyan was elf-blooded

itd be a special flavor of Solavelyan where Solas would short circuit and confront his cognitive dissonance the hardest

[doctor-jonathan-crane]

Is there anyway to have good dreams more often? I only seem to have bad dreams at the rare instance that I have one that I remember in the morning :(

And you came to me for advice on achieving pleasant dreams? That’s rather like consulting an arsonist for fire safety tips.

The amygdala and hippocampus—centers for emotional regulation and memory consolidation—remain highly active during REM sleep. This is the state most associated with vivid dreaming. When the brain attempts to process unresolved trauma or chronic stress, those emotional circuits generate content that reflects internal conflict.

In short: If your waking mind is saturated with repression, anxiety, or cognitive dissonance, your dream content will manifest accordingly. Nightmares are typically symptomatic.

You don’t need better dreams. You need better insight. Ask yourself what your psyche is working overtime to process…and why you insist on staying oblivious while conscious.

But if avoidance is your method of choice, by all means—limit stimulants, regulate your circadian rhythm, avoid blue light exposure, and repeat hollow affirmations about rainbows. Let me know if the monsters go away.

[donjuaninhell]

Not to be a guy who asks "are the zionists okay" but I scrolled through the blog of one who I used to know in irl and he's??? Reblogging from troll accounts that are disguising fucking blood libel as pro-Zionist between actual legitimate Zionist posts completely uncritically?????

Honestly anon? No I don't think that they are okay. The longer this drags on and the more that the images and videos from out of Gaza (or the West Bank for that matter) run completely counter to the U.S./Israeli propaganda narrative, the greater the cognitive dissonance that is necessary to claim the usual liberal Zionist talking points like "Israel is only acting in self-defense" (then why have they killed hundreds in the West Bank where Hamas is not in power), that "things would be better if the Palestinians just embraced non-violence" (they have on multiple occasions, the Israelis keep fucking killing them), or how the "IDF is the most moral army in the world" (then why is there mass looting of Palestinian homes by IDF soldiers). The collapse of these narratives has been so swift and so complete with every new things we learn about what happened on October 7th and afterwards that I think it's really short-circuited a few people's brains. There's been the revelation that many civilian deaths were the result of IDF following orders to institute the Hannibal directive, the forty beheaded babies story being a lie dreamt up by a fanatic, to the collapse of the NYT story on mass rapes (turns out the lead journalist was former Israeli intelligence), the story that Al-Shifa Hospital was some sort of terrorist base, and the lie which has had the most consequence: that UNRWA workers were directly involved in Oct. 7th the evidence for which is so flimsy as to be laughable if the consequences hadn't been so dire.

The speed at which these narratives have collapsed and how quickly Israel has run through any goodwill following Oct. 7th is honestly astounding. It took the Americans around two years give-or-take following 9/11 to exhaust the world's goodwill, Israel managed to speed-run this in less than two months. When boomer left-libs like my parents are starting to say things like "I don't know what's wrong with the Israelis" that's a new thing. I'm a little older than many of my followers so I remember things like the 2006 Lebanon War and watching it thinking "this seems excessive, what aren't they telling us?" It took years before the existence of the Dahiya Doctrine became known. And the images from Operation Cast Lead in 2008 (the conflict which was impetus for me to really dig into researching the conflict) weren't coming this fast or this graphic. This has got to do numbers on your psyche if you're a typically "progressive" person but also supporting the Israeli cause. It's like that Eli Valley cartoon riffing on the Incredible Hulk. I think the way some of them are coping is by telling bigger and bigger lies, becoming more extreme, retreating into more closed off bubbles. It's fear, fear of being wrong.

If you ever want to read some truly delusional posts I recommend checking out the "jumblr" tag (there are also some very brave and very intelligent anti-Zionist Jews also posting in that tag who have my admiration and respect for fighting the good fight, I've followed several of them in the past weeks) where you can find Zionists making such convincing arguments as "what Israel is doing to the Palestinians isn't genocide because a genocide requires intent and incitement, and Israel hasn't expressed intent, besides the word genocide has lost all meaning anyway because of leftist anti-Semitism, it's really more like ethnic cleansing which can be voluntary". An assertion contradicted by the words and actions of Israeli defense minister Yoav Gallant, senior Israeli military officials, members of the Knesset including the deputy speaker, Minister for National Security Itamar Ben-Gvir, an open Kahanist, the Hebrew language media, Israeli civilians, Israeli artists, active duty personnel in the IDF, Mossad run Telegram channels, President Isaac Herzog and Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. They also like bringing up the existence of Arab Israeli citizens "oh they have equal rights!" (an easily disprovable claim) as a shield against the charge of genocide. It gets ugly too, I came across a post the other day of some American Zionist claiming that Hind Rajab could not possibly have been killed by the IDF because there would be no benefit in it to them, she must have been killed by Hamas who then blamed it on the IDF.

And because it's Tumblr it's all so frequently delivered in either that cutesy and twee cry bully tone of "oooh but I'm just a small little guy =uwu= and everyone is being mean to me!" or in the voice of the condescending gifted child "I am much smarter than you and this is why". It's frequently paired with a picrew avatar and queer identity flag. A few of them have "leftist" or "BLM" or "antifa" in their bio without a whiff of self awareness (no guesses as to the political ideology undergirding one of the groups from which the ruling Likud party claims descent). I'm not as hostile to identity politics as some leftists are, I think they can be a valuable tool to agitate for the needs of specific groups, but I can't help but see it as a damning indictment of the shallowness of the sort of "progressive" identity politics popular on here. It was developing a politics rooted in material analysis that lead me into criticism of Israel and if you don't have that, well, shallow identity politics aren't going to save you from being on the wrong side of history.

[chickenmetenders]

"Sometimes a family can be two men and the two guys they abducted."

Assorted headcanons for the MAMIYA DDD Family ending [spoilers abound!!]

Here's a compilation/archive of messages I posted in the MAMIYA fan Discord about a continuation of the Family ending in Keito's route. In my version, Ryou also gets taken into the family along with Osamu, Satoru, and Keito. I call them KORS for short.

This is absolutely not serious or angsty in anyway, because I was writing this as aftercare for Minato's route lmao. I've sorted through my many messages and did some reorganizing, so they're grouped by topic. (Bolded names: indicates a comment from a server member)

Keito's New Family!!

For the first two months of living together keito is terrified, but ryou being 7 gets over the whole thing in like one month. Like this is just his new normal

Keito starts getting over it (stockholm syndrome starts setting in) once he sees satoru teaching ryou how to make takoyaki

You know i think crab takoyaki could work. I dont like crab but crab meat isnt that far off from octopus

Even after Keito gets over the whole kidnapping thing, he still takes a while to acclimate to his new "family". Like satoru osamu and ryou get used to the family situation pretty quickly (because they are not close to their birth families) but keito is very close to his family so he has to grapple with the cognitive dissonance for a good while

By six months time, he's used to their living circumstances and has affection for the three of them, but in his mind theyre housemates, not family. Like when someone asks about keito's family, his mind still immediately goes to his parents

It probably takes a year or so for keito to finally think of them as his family

(Staring at the words i have written) this is not found family, this is forced family

Gizzia: It's found as in Satoru and Osamu found them and kept them Me: OSAMU DIDNT EVEN FIND HIM, KEITO WENT /TO/ HIM!!!

The Mamiyas

Idk how the family thing is going to go. Like theyre changing their legal last name to mamiya???

Scanning over japanese name change procedures and thinking maybe not<3 i think japanese bureaucracy might be worse than american

Maybe its possible that satoru adopts ryou and osamu into his family registry so everyone thinks theyre a gay couple with a child, but then theyd still be samejimas

(It would be better of them to be samejimas instead of arisugawas because satoru owns all the houses. Obviously)

And then keito would be. Well they can't adopt him too because keito's dad is literally satoru's boss

Samejima could fake keito's death and keep him away from his family? BUT I FEEL LIKE THEYD BE FOUND OUT PRETTY QUICKLY IF KEITO WAS LIVING WITH SATORU

Well maybe its a non-legally binding family where satoru and osamu are back to living together again, satoru has pulled strings to get ryou adopted by osamu, and then he twists keitos arm into moving in with them as roommates

(Or keito moves in of his own volition, with his main motivation being that hes SUPER CONCERNED ABOUT LEAVING RYOU IN THERE)

Satoru and Osamu

Would osamu and satoru still be fighting at this point. I think the years apart would have calmed them down a little

Instead of punching satoru, osamu just slaps his a-- you know what never mind. Actually i think they would just verbally argue but without much bite. Because theyre family now

Vaguely remembering that bit in arisus route where osamu was like "we were partners in crime and i was even thinking about asking her to marry me" well osamu you have a new mamiya who you have committed several crimes with so what will you do now.

[Editing note: I want it noted that my brain short-circuited when Satoru was like "I feel like a newly wed bride". why did he say that]

General KORS Family Fluff

Osamu is the one who picks ryou up from school most of the time because he works from home but the first time keito does it ryou is just so happy. Ryou thinks keito is the coolest

Satoru is the one who teaches ryou how to cook so when hes older ryou ends up with really weird culinary skills. He does not know how to fry an egg sunny side up but he can whip up hollandaise sauce like its nothing

Satoru starts ryou in some kind of martial arts class and osamu hates it because ryou keeps trying to show osamu his skills (ie punching him in the leg)

Keito is still playing in a college lacrosse club and the whole family comes to watch his games. When ryou cant see over the crowd (i dont know what lacrosse games look like sowwy) satoru puts him on his shoulders

Osamu and keito take turns reading ryou his bedtime stories. Sometimes when they both have time they both read to him. Osamu is really good at the evil monster voices and robot voices, and keito is better than him at doing female voices

Despite being shorter than keito, satoru cannot fit into his jackets and coats because his shoulders are just to broad. He can fit into some of osamus longer coats because osamu likes buying clothes a size or two too big. Few of their clothes are viable hand me downs for ryou because he grows up short

Wait. But maybe ryou would grow up to be taller in this scenario because keito makes sure he drinks his milk. So maybe he would fit in their clothes

Satoru's Parental Tendencies (& other adults in Ryou's life)

(Growing realization) i think after keito and ryou move out for work/college, satoru would have the worst empty nest syndrome imaginable

(Assuming osamu satoru or keito doesn't set their house on fire with everyone inside in five years time)

Satoru ends up like a clingy overbearing mother who gets really upset when keito wants to move out for his Vaguely Defined Future Career and only calms down once osamu is like "uhhh dude chill" and keito promises to facetime every day

(I just think this is really funny because keito has his own family who is alive and who he is on good terms with but his actual mom puts up way less of a fuss than satoru)

After that satoru starts redirecting all his attention and affection towards ryou and is just overall insufferable

Ryou: im thinking about going to kyoto for college Satoru: absolutely not you will choose a school in tokyo and you will live in this house

Satoru is the strict parent who is prone to hysterics and osamu is the laissez faire parent who has to console his wife (i am of course delusional). Its like a sitcom

Keito rounds off ryou's Trio of Adult Figures as the unconditionally supportive older brother so i think between the three of them, ryou grows up to be pretty okay??? As okay as you can be when youre a member of the Mamiya family ig

They all frequently go to dinner at the suou's too so ryou is decently close to keitos parents

New Car!!

Anyway. If they all moved in together, satoru would have to buy a new car

Now i think a honda accord would be a good car for a family of four, but it might be a bit cramped if two of them are over 6ft tall, so it might be better if they had an suv

And also satoru loves his foreign cars so he wouldn't buy honda anyway

Okay so the volkswagon touareg could be a good option because it is a luxury suv from germany. However pre 2006 this suv was REALLY big so i dont think it would fit very well in the streets of japan

Cheese: samejima also is really big and doenst fit well in the streets of japan

Suvs werent as big of a thing in 2003, so maybe satoru would go for a sedan anyway... If satoru's going to gravitate towards european luxury brands, then the mercedes benz s class would be perfect for him. Its about the same size as a honda accord

Phle: [the Mercedes Benz S Class was] like literally my old car, it was a 2003 model too

During my playthrough of DDD, the KORS family au helped keep me sane. I think it's a neat idea. i think if it actually happened (and Osamu and Satoru took Ryou in as well) they would've started murdering people within the year, but this isn't about that!! If I wanted insane angst, I would replay DDD Keito/Ryou.

I kind of want to write some sort of fic about this weird family... But after playing EX, my brain has contacted the natsumiya virus and I haven't been able to stop thinking about that. So we'll see lol. I might archive some of my AU twitter threads for that ship onto tumblr, too, because I'm pretty fond of what I wrote.

Wow, this is the first time I've made a post like this on tumblr since I left in 2019! Writing longform is pretty fun.

[cinnaminsvga]

“its also just the idea that theyre real people and not just pixels on my screen is what killed me in that moment” not the same anon but GIRL that’s exactly how I felt seeing them from up close during soundcheck at their concert in my country. Sometimes I even forget the Kim Taehyung actually made eye contact with me. Like my brain short circuited so hard djhfdjskd they’re real and so fcking handsome and so unlike anyone I’ve ever seen in my life haha

i think seeing bangtan irl is its own spiritual experience,,, the cognitive dissonance of realizing "oh shit, these guys are real and they breathe and eat and love and move and cry and laugh the same way that i do" but then circumstances happened and BOOM theyre actually super famous and talented people who are loved and admired on a global scale!!!!!!

i know this is kinda weird to say but the bangtan that exist in my mind come in two forms: one is the "real" bangtan where i acknowledge that i do not know them and they are strangers who just so happen to share some moments of their lives with us and the other is the bangtan who are my bffs4lyf who fight the monsters under my bed and make life a little bit brighter

sometimes those two bangtans are the same people, sometimes they are separate. regardless, its strange being reminded of the humanness of bangtan... whether that reminder be through eye contact or seeing a damn mold of their damn hands. on god!!!!

[heart-full-of-lust]

The Horniness Manifesto: A Declaration of Sexual Independence

[From the digital diary of a 23-year-old who has reached peak sexual frustration]

Entry #1: I Need to Be Fucked

I'm writing this because I need to get it out of my system, and maybe if I put all this sexual energy into words, I'll stop feeling like I'm going to spontaneously combust every time an attractive man so much as makes eye contact with me.

The truth is, I am so fucking horny that I've started evaluating every man who enters my field of vision as a potential solution to my problem. The delivery guy who brought my coffee this morning? I spent ten minutes imagining what it would feel like to grab him by his flannel shirt and drag him inside. The professor in my graduate seminar who's probably twenty years older than me and definitely shouldn't be having the thoughts I'm projecting onto him? I've mentally undressed him so many times that I know exactly what I want to do with his salt-and-pepper beard.

This is what happens when you're a feminist who's also desperately, pathetically horny. You spend your days writing papers about gender equality and your nights masturbating to fantasies about older men who would probably call you "baby girl" and tell you exactly how they want you to worship their cocks.

The cognitive dissonance is fucking brutal.

The Age Gap Addiction

Let me be completely honest about what gets me wet: the idea of some distinguished, successful man in his forties looking at me like he can't believe his luck. Like he's won some kind of lottery by having access to my twenty-three-year-old body. I want to be someone's much younger girlfriend who he gets to show off at work functions while secretly knowing that later that night, he's going to bend me over his kitchen counter and remind me who's in charge.

There's something about that power dynamic that makes my brain short-circuit. The way older men move through the world with confidence I'm still developing, the way they order wine without looking at the prices, the way they touch you like they know exactly what they're doing because they've had years to perfect their technique.

I want Professor Martinez from my Victorian Literature class to push me against his office door and tell me I've been driving him crazy all semester. I want him to slide his hand up my thigh while explaining the finer points of Browning's sonnets, then bend me over his desk and show me what real poetry feels like.

Is that problematic? Probably. Do I care when I'm three fingers deep and imagining his graying temples between my thighs? Absolutely fucking not.

The Worship Contradiction

Here's where it gets complicated: I consider myself a feminist. I believe in equality, I fight for women's rights, I've read Judith Butler and bell hooks and I can argue gender theory with the best of them. But when I'm turned on? When I'm really, desperately aroused?

I want to worship cock like it's my fucking religion.

I want to kneel between a man's legs and look up at him with the kind of devotion usually reserved for deities. I want to take his dick in my mouth and feel it hit the back of my throat while he tangles his fingers in my hair and tells me what a good girl I am. I want him to slap it against my face while I beg for more, my makeup smeared and my dignity somewhere on the floor with my clothes.

The contradiction makes me dizzy sometimes. How can I spend my days advocating for women's empowerment and my nights fantasizing about being completely dominated? How can I argue for equal representation in the boardroom while masturbating to the idea of being some powerful man's personal stress relief?

But maybe that's the point. Maybe true feminism means having the freedom to choose exactly how I want to express my sexuality, even if that expression involves begging for permission to cum while someone twenty years older than me uses my body for his pleasure.

The Waiting Game

The worst part is the waiting. I'm patiently sitting here like some kind of horny Rapunzel, waiting for my Prince Charming who also happens to eat ass. Do you know how specific that criteria is? Do you know how rare it is to find a man who will bury his face between your cheeks with the same enthusiasm he brings to everything else?

I've had boyfriends who acted like going down on me was some kind of favor they were doing me. I've dealt with guys my own age who treated oral sex like a negotiation rather than an opportunity to worship at the altar of feminine pleasure. What I need is someone who understands that eating pussy and ass isn't just foreplay—it's an art form that requires dedication, patience, and genuine enthusiasm for the task at hand.

I want someone who will spend hours between my legs, who will make me cum on his tongue until I'm shaking and incoherent, who will flip me over and spread me open and make me feel like the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. I want someone who finds my pleasure as intoxicating as his own, who gets off on getting me off.

And yes, I want him to be older, experienced, confident enough to take control and skilled enough to back up his dominance with results that leave me speechless.

The Fantasy Escalates

[Later that same evening]

I started writing this as a way to vent my sexual frustration, but now I'm so turned on that I can barely think straight. My roommate is out for the night, and I'm sitting here in nothing but an oversized t-shirt, desperately trying to focus on words instead of touching myself.

But I keep imagining what would happen if he walked through my door right now. Not some abstract fantasy man, but Professor Martinez with his perfectly trimmed beard and his expensive cologne and his hands that I've been staring at for three months while he discusses literary criticism.

I imagine the surprise on his face when he sees me like this—clearly aroused, obviously available, looking at him with the kind of desperate hunger that would make even the most professional man forget about appropriate boundaries.

"Emma," he'd say, his voice already rough with desire, "what are you doing?"

And I'd tell him the truth: "Waiting for you to fuck me."

No games, no pretense, no pretending that I haven't been fantasizing about this moment every night since the semester started. Just honest, desperate need laid bare for him to see.

I imagine how his composure would crack, how twenty years of professional restraint would crumble in the face of a young woman who knows exactly what she wants and isn't ashamed to ask for it. How he'd cross the room in three quick strides and kiss me like he's been starving for the taste of my mouth.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he'd growl against my lips, his hands already pushing my shirt up and over my head, exposing my breasts to his hungry gaze.

And I'd whisper back, "Then stop talking and show me."

The Reality of Worship

[Stream of consciousness continues]

This is what I mean about worship. Not the theoretical kind, not the political metaphor, but the raw, physical reality of devotion expressed through bodies and breath and the sounds you make when someone else's pleasure becomes more important than your own dignity.

I would worship every inch of his cock with my mouth, my tongue, my throat. I'd start slow, tracing patterns along his shaft while looking up at him through my lashes, watching his face contort with pleasure as I take him deeper. I'd let him fuck my face until my eyes water and my makeup runs, until the only sounds in the room are the wet, obscene noises of complete submission.

And when he pulls me off his cock and tells me to turn around, when he bends me over my own couch and spreads me open like I'm a feast he's been denied for too long, I'd push back against him and beg for more. I'd tell him how empty I feel without him inside me, how I've been touching myself to thoughts of his cock splitting me open, how I need him to use me until we're both too exhausted to remember why this was supposed to be complicated.

This is what peak horniness looks like: a feminist reduced to her most primal desires, begging to be bred by a man who could probably be her father.

The Contradiction Resolved

[Final entry, written post-orgasm but still desperately unsatisfied]

I came three times writing this, my laptop balanced precariously on my thighs while I fucked myself with my fingers and imagined Professor Martinez's cock hitting places that have been aching for months. But I'm still not satisfied. You can't masturbate away the need for human connection, for the weight of another body, for the particular pleasure that comes from being completely overwhelmed by someone else's desire.

So this is my manifesto, my declaration of sexual independence: I need to be fucked. Not made love to, not gently caressed into a polite orgasm, but properly, thoroughly fucked by someone who understands that my feminist politics don't contradict my submissive fantasies.

I want to be pinned down and used and worshipped all at once. I want to feel powerful in my surrender, feminist in my submission, equal in my inequality. I want someone who recognizes that letting him dominate me is actually the ultimate expression of my agency—I choose this, I want this, I'm demanding this.

Tomorrow I'll go back to my graduate seminars and my academic papers and my carefully constructed intellectual persona. But tonight, I'm just a desperately horny young woman who knows exactly what she needs and isn't ashamed to admit it.

The next man who walks through my door better be ready to handle what he's unleashing. Because I'm done waiting patiently for someone to notice my need. I'm ready to take what I want, even if what I want is to give up control completely.

I'm a feminist until it's time to cum. And baby, it's been time for fucking months.

[Manifesto ends. Fantasy continues.]

Author's note: Written in a state of peak sexual frustration by someone who believes that true liberation means embracing all aspects of your desires, even the ones that seem contradictory to your politics. Posted because maybe I'm not the only one who needs to hear that it's okay to want what you want, however complicated that might be.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have some more fantasizing to do about older men who eat ass like it's their job.

[stevishabitat]

Learned yesterday that there's a term for phrases like "It is what it is," "It's in God's hands," "YOLO," etc-things meant to short-circuit cognitive dissonance & end discussion. They're called "Thought-Terminating Cliches" and I haven't stopped thinking about that phrase since.

Via A Feast for Dermestids @colindickey

[jim-fetter-illustrations]

"It's in God's hands",..... MY ASS, it's in YOUR hands!!

My whole life it seems I have heard phrases by religious clergy and religious people, like "It is what it is", and "It's in God's hands", and "YOLO"....an acronym for "you only live once", so you'd better get right with God..... these kinds of basteridations of humanity spewed out by those who think there is a real god governing over us,..... governing over this chaotic cesspool of greed because of religion?!?!?!

Things meant to short-circuit cognitive dissonance & end discussion, because they don't really know the answer, they just think they do....

I call this poppycock "Thought-Terminating Cliches", and "Short-Circuit Cop-Outs" given by those who don't know, but believe the fairy tale.....

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[fuckyeahdindjarin]

i never really understood why everyone was so into agent whiskey and just never looked in deeper but i read all of palomino recently (i’ve been a fan of yours since the beginning of consent though) and… girl. GIRL. a work of ART. i suddenly love whiskey. you’ve made me understand the hype

SWEET ANON. Thank you for this message, you really came for me 😭 I’ll be honest, even when I started writing Palomino, I didn’t expect to fall head over heels for this cowboy. But there’s something about him. He's written as so one-dimensional in the movie, but that monologue in the diner? It gives me goosebumps every time. And it just makes me want to give him all the happiness he deserves.

I am so, so honoured to be the one converting you to Whiskey 🥹 It is my mission to spread the Jack love! Now, I'll be remiss if I don't mention a few of my favourites Jack fics. Since many Whiskey fics in the fandom fall under a particular kink that I'm not into (no judgement, I just don't read it), I'm very picky and I haven't read too many, but these are all amazing:

Cognitive Dissonance by @prolix-yuy is the Jack fic that converted me to Whiskey in the first place. It's one of my favourite series hands down - LJ knows how crazy I am about her cowboy! She has also written some other excellent Jack oneshots, including the super hot Jack x Reader x Marcus Pike threesome Two Truths and a Lie.

Stars Hit The Ceiling by @jazzelsaur I'm pretty sure was the first threesome fic I ever read, and it is still one of my faves. Her Whiskey is delicious and is written so beautifully and sensitively. I can't get enough of the dynamics between these three.

Salty Caramel by @iamskyereads is such a fun and sexy action piece. I remember when Skye mentioned this Whiskey and sex pollen idea to me and my brain literally short-circuited before I even read it. I love everything Skye writes and her Whiskey is no exception!

Over Ice by @haylzcyon is like a warm fuzzy winter coat. This adorable fic gives me all the feels, and Hayley was kind enough to entertain my request for the follow-up Shaken Not Stirred. I love this universe so much!

Under Marula Trees by @deadhumourist sends me on safari vacation with Whiskey and all the gang? Yes please! I love this fic to bits, and I'm ready to dive back in whenever Ani is!

[prolix-yuy]

The wonderful and extremely talented @miranhas-art graced me with a second commission for the upcoming sequel to Cognitive Dissonance. I am head over heels in love with her Whiskey, he's the gorgeous man I would love to fall for.

A snippet of this scene below the cut...

“You okay Sugar?”

Your breath freezes in your throat, eyes snapping to the man’s face. He swims in your vision before the soft curl of his brown hair, the delicate trim of his mustache, the hawkish curve to his nose comes into focus. If that wasn’t enough for your short-circuiting brain to manage, his plush lips part in concern, deep chocolate eyes darting across your face.

Jack?

“I - oh,” he says, his grip tightening on your shoulders. You wrench back, stumbling a half step away, still locked on his face.

Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack

People are looking at you now, agape and struggling to pull in a full breath, your brain tumbling like Alice down the rabbit hole.

Can’t be.

Jack.

Not real.

Jack.

How?

Jack.

“I can explain…”

Then the whole world shifts, and you’re falling.

Thank you again to Mari, and I can't wait to share the rest of the story with you!

[saintobio]

hi ai! thank you sm for updating us with another amazing chapter 🤍

i can’t believe we started out asap with y/n’s health condition 🥲 idk how to tie these all together, but i just know there will be a connection between y/n inheriting her mother’s illness, her mother dying from it, the trauma from her mother passing away, and satoru inevitably finding out about this trauma. and i’m excited to see how this will change him, considering his own mother also “left” albeit not bc of death

i find it sooo funny how he expressed concern that the events in bora bora would cause a domino effect like sir? this domino effect already began on the very first day of your marriage lmao

“he would never in his life be like the twisted man who ruined his childhood and drove his wife away from his son” — read that again satoru. slowly. slooowly. i know we’re just at the very start of satoru’s redemption arc but i hope he catches up soon lol. the cognitive dissonance is too much

let’s talk abt sera! look, i’m sorry she had to be born into a family like that. but her self-pitying, self-destructive if-i-fall-i’m-taking-everyone-down-with-me attitude has got to go. i really think this will come to back to bite satoru in the ass later on in the story. she will do something reckless and he will have to take the blame for it. not necessarily a pregnancy. but i liken it a bit to sera being a hostage taker and satoru urging everyone else to run away while he holds her down, potentially risking his life and maybe even dying with her. something like that. the ship they’re steering is abt to sink and considering the part he had to play in its sailing, it’s only proper he also partakes in its fall; he will be forced to accept the repercussions. i’m also on the fence abt the pregnancy. i don’t know if she’s gonna end up pregnant, or maybe she will pretend to be pregnant. after all, we saw her imagining her pregnancy in front of the mirror. that could be a hint as to where things are headed. one other thing i like abt this chapter is how we see just how dismissive she is towards satoru’s emotions and past history. many times in the story she refers to him as “different,” “unappealing,” and “not being himself,” wc is a stark contrast to how y/n accepts satoru for both his good and bad sides. sera has this idea of who satoru “should be,” and now that he’s not looking like that anymore, she’s beginning to show her true colours. and when sera told him to “move on” ?????? BITCH 🔪🔪🔪 the audacity “there were more problems to face in life” she’s really acting her problems are the only valid problems in existence. who’s being an attention seeker now huh??

toji! i love how his presence in the story immediately calms both y/n and us readers lmfaooo. i know they’re not meant to end up together romantically, but i love how their friendship is so calming, for y/n especially. and when he called her mrs zenin?? BYE my brain short-circuited. literally just being around him will improve her health, no joke. also! i’m so excited to see the zenin kids 👀 lowkey hoping satoru sees them all together, happy like a family 🥴 this reminds me of one of the songs in the playlist but i couldn’t remember the title nor the lyrics ahajsjsk. another thing, i love how you portray the zenins in sn as a happy family, even if in canon they’re anything but 😩 tho since we have asshole satoru, wc is a contrast to canon satoru, i’m not complaining!

one last detail i loved: how satoru didn’t even bother wearing a necktie when we all know y/n is the one who ties it for him in the morning. it’s always the little things 😩

part nine really greeted u all with a hospital scene hhhhh but most ppl called it anyway. yn has been showing signs of a heart condition since the earlier chapters. and omg ur rant abt sera ahah mood

the zen’ins in sn are sooo ooc but like toji did say in part 5 that they do have problems within the family, tho that has more to do w their elders than the kiddos. aside from the company and the pressure of being an heir, there’s not much drama w the zen’ins. maybe that’s why naoya is always up in somebody’s business 💀 he knows everything

the necktie ahahah yea he just goes to the mirror and forgot how to do a tie properly bc he’s so used to yn doing it neatly for him. he misses her the most in the mornings when she was gone <//3

[joshscorcher]

I've noticed you took a shot at CinemaSins on Twitter and heard there was a spike of ire against them. Did I miss something? What happened?

tl;dr A slowly growing case of "He Panned It, Now He Sucks" as well as dishonest flip-flopping in criticism philosophy.

I enjoyed CinemaSins for a while partly because of the novelty. It was a fun format to review and critique and film by. But slowly the videos got longer and longer and the critiques got weirder.

For me personally, my distaste started with EWW Captain America: The Winter Soldier. There were so many errors and obtuse observations in that vid, that I just stopped watching at that point. Over time, I noticed that CinemaSins seemed to not know anything about actual film critique or filmmaking in general. An example of this is in their vid for Megamind right at the beginning.

""Starting with the Climax" cliche."

Yeah... umm... "Starting with the Climax" is called "In Medias Res." CINEMAsins.

For the general populace, the Anti-CinemaSins movement seemed to start with this video. People started to notice the creators were trying to have their cake and eat it too with their criticism and brand.

"We're actual critics!" / "We're not critics, we're satirizing nitpicky buttholes." "We're trying to improve Hollywood!" / "There are sins we put into the video that are intentionally wrong."

They’ve almost become the Schrödinger’s Critic, where if you disagree with them, they’re satire, but if you agree, they’re good critics. And the defenders seem to parrot this cognitive dissonance as well.

"CinemaSins is great criticism!" / "Lol why are u criticizing CinemaSins? They're satire, lol!"

It really short-circuits their brains when you have people like Th3Birdman who opens each video saying "I'm a fan of CinemaSins" but constantly take direct shots at CinemaSins critique philosophy.

Another factor contributing to this is the rise of CinemaWins. When talking about CinemaWins you often hear the sentiment, "It's nice to hear positivity instead of negativity for once." It seemed people just got annoyed with the constant slinging of negativity going around.

[ridiasfangirlings]

Yata’s mom starts dating Mikita and one day the two get married.

I'm assuming you mean Mikoto here? Can you imagine Yata's cognitive dissonance about the whole thing, like on one hand he'd probably want to be the protective son who's like you better treat my mom right but then on the other OMG Mikoto-san is gonna be my dad this so awesome he's so cool. Like maybe AU where Yata's mom is younger and say Mikoto's a bit older too so the age gap is a little less, maybe Yata's mom had Yata young the same way Fushimi's parents did but because she's an actual good parent when she saw her husband was terrible Yata's mom actually left him. Then she remarries and has Yata's siblings and shortly after Yata joins Homra his stepdad gets in like a car accident and dies (...let's also say this is Everybody Lives AU so all of Yata's stepdads don't keep dying). Yata's mom starts going on dates and at some point she meets Mikoto, like she's getting harassed at a bar where Mikoto's working as a bouncer. Mikoto just walks over and punches out the guy bothering her, Yata's mom is relieved and thanks him while Mikoto just shrugs and goes back to leaning against the wall smoking. Yata's mom wants to show him her appreciation and offers to buy him a drink or something, Mikoto says this is his job. Yata's mom offers to at least keep him company, standing by the wall and chatting with him and while Mikoto's not really the chatty type he does find himself thinking that this person isn't bad company (and imagine him thinking she reminds him of someone but he can't figure out who, it isn't until the end of the night that she gives him her name and Mikoto's like '….hm').

After that Yata's mom starts coming to that same bar more often to talk to Mikoto more and somehow they end up hitting it off, Mikoto probably knows by now that she's Yata's mom but he assumes she's told her kid about it and he doesn't have to. It's not until they actually get engaged that Yata finds out and his brain short-circuits, like wait my mom is marrying Mikoto-san that means Mikoto-san will be my dad and I'll be his kid and what if they have more kids but this is my mom and she's marrying him and he's just giving himself a total headache. I bet he'd ultimately be pumped about it though, like he's so excited for Mikoto to be his dad (and the other Homra guys are like okay but you're 19 and you don't even live at home so why does it matter and Yata's like shut up don't insult my dad). The rest of Homra are pretty shocked both that Mikoto's marrying someone and that the someone in question is Yata's mom, like how did that even happen and why did no one know about it until after he was already engaged.