#hm. gotta think of a good one.

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

hi yes I'm doing great and fine at college why do you ask :) (<< person who barely contained crying all the way back to her dorm and then broke down once she was in her room bc her government professor told everyone at the end of the first class that they're going to see horrible things in life and it's ok to be bothered by them, you don't have to constantly 'other people have it worse' about everything and so never let yourself feel the hurt over something and then went on to give everyone in the class a Tim Keller book to help cultivate personal devotions bc freshman year is hard)

[brionnnne]

note that i will only ever call mithrun "stupid" jokingly. by "stupid", i only mean "frustrating behavior that i am immensely familar with". seeing him do something that makes me groan aloud, closing my eyes, sighing "stupid (affectionate, mournful)". like when he fucking... his dumbass "i don't want to [use the bathroom] right now, so it's fine." oughh. i know you! i know you! that's not how that works!!! and he's smart!!! he's so smart... but god, god... he's kind of an absent professor. he's kind of a cloudcuckoolander. i love him dearly. he gets called a dummy, a little idiot, and i flick his forehead, a little bonk of hard-heads, like "try again, idiot. that's not how bodies work." and "ooh, 'that's not going to work'. yes it is. shut up, stoopid. stubborn little man, my god." rolling my eyes forever.

[uniquezombiedestiny]

I look around, but I can't find you (raise it up) If only I could see your face (raise it up) Instead of rushing towards the skyline (raise it up) I wish that I could just be brave

(artfight attack for @simikae again <3 ft. archer!)

[sysig]

A hero is only as good as his weapons, so make ‘em count (Patreon)

[popiellart]

Tell us ur DUNC thoughts pal! <3

what can I even say about DUNC other than i fucking love it!!! i've been a shameless dick rider for denis villeneuve ever since Sicario, and I went to the cinema to see DUNC and DUNC 2 which. one thing about me is i hate cinemas. i didn't even go to the cinema for scorsese or yorgo lanthimos or top gun 2 so you know it's serious

the visuals are straight up incredible, the casting is peak, the material is handled with a lot of what feels like genuine love and passion, the lady going ham on the arabic yodeling on the OST is a queen, and in general wrt dune fans watching DUNC, I imagine that's how people who like Tolkien felt when Peter Jackson's LOTR came out

i can't wait for the conflict between the matriarchal eugenicists with milking machines and the patriarchal eugenicists with breeding tanks

which is what the books are really about. oh, and i guess the galactic jihad also happens, so that's fun

[minweber]

Never thought I’d say something like that, but the drama of space robot politics in this show doesn't quite measure up to the drama of those teenage girls’ romance.

[duckduckngoose]

Session 0 of new DND group complete,,,, taking 10 hour nap now goodnight

[mementoasts]

jonathan sims head archivist of the magnus institute london

[auriidae]

drawing a character and then absentmindedly adding a couple animal features just to see what it would look like and realizing it looks better than the original drawing

[myownprivatcidaho]

alcohol tasted AWFUL to me the first 21.5 years of my life and then this past christmas break sth clikced and now suddenly.... i like it. and I'm enjoying that i like it and NOW am enjoying drunkenness almost every evening (im much less of a lightweofht than i look but much more of one than i like to think) and im wondering if maybe i shld be ..... concerned.

[mythvoiced]

Aeri can’t decide what she hates more - the way the bejeweled pin in the victor from District 8’s hair is lopsided, or the girl herself. Oh, what Aeri wouldn’t give to wear such an accessory again, or even wear the finery the victor has been gifted to wear to the viewing. That was her once, wasn’t it?

But now? She’s stuck here, watching this spectacle. The brat, who has no idea what privilege she’s been presented with, keeps on creasing the delicate threads of her gown and her stylists also clearly have no idea on how to do the brat’s makeup. And then there’s that damn pin- Aeri’s pin once upon a time- only in place because it’s tangled in there-

And Aeri can’t hold back. When the brat’s stylists are gone, she reaches into the girl’s hair and extracts the pin. Her fingers, callused from years of hard labor that still feels foreign to Aeri, are quick to untangle most of the obvious knots in the brat’s hair before shetwists the locks into a ponytail and then a bun. The pin goes back in.

Aeri glares at the girl through the mirror. Don’t you dare mess up my work.

( congrats lenlen!! you get....aeri, being really resentful, i hope marìa doesn't mind too much ^^' )

@stillresolved | !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LET HER BE RESENTFUL

---

There's a harshness to being dolled up when you are in no way receptive to it.

María isn't foreign to the roughness of life - she's a fucking Victor, after all, isn't she - she's started working in factories just about around the age even the most moral of District 8 people might turn their back in fear on seeing her walk in, pretending not seeing her would free them of the responsibility of working with a child.

Her hands and nose and palate and lungs had long gotten used and keep getting used to the aftermath of working with chemicals, of being so very intimate with garments and colours, with fumes and heat, with the hard work of surviving, with the hard work of fighting to be allowed a minimal chance at said survival, at figuring that there's little more for people from District 8 to fight for.

Still... it's not the same.

Being pushed around, dressed in things she would have never chosen for herself to serve a people, a man, because she's not stupid enough to not be able to tell what is Capitol and what is Snow and how Capitol is Snow, it's a kind of biting and harsh and rough that doesn't leave behind the usual kind of scars and memories and bruises.

Even surviving the Games had come with a desperately accepted sense of relief, one covered in blood and the humiliation of all she'd done and all she'd thought she'd get to accomplish, only for reality to crash in on her in a victory she hadn't wanted to partake in, hadn't wanted to make possible, when she'd wanted her Games to be victor-less in lieu of ending the Games themselves.

This... this is humiliation in the long run. This has hardly any hope attached to it, waiting for her on the other end of the line. Sometimes, on the worst days, it feels like the true brunt of the battle, walking with blood-stained soles and palms and sparkling as she does, wearing all that might make even the softest source of light appear like flames reflecting off her frame, covering her in fire that had not eaten her alive - much to a few people's disdain.

Picking at things, not holding still, grimacing, shifting her muscles, arms, face to make her stylists' life as difficult as possible, it was all she had to fight back.

The Arena came with death and violence, and living back at home had been physical labour upon physical labour, straining her young body until she could no longer tell if she was broken beyond repair or fitter than children her age should be - had they grown up privileged within the Capitol's safety.

Here she has only threads to tear apart and reflections to glare at.

And a new challenge behind every door.

She feels yanked back, an intensity of motion caused less by the avox suddenly in her hair and more her own stiffness that hadn't prepared her for submission to someone suddenly rearranging her.

After her stylists had left, she'd succumbed to the tension of not wanting to be there, without the added hard work of making sure everybody else does. Lost in her thought, somebody's hands suddenly returning on her had fortified, molten it into a newly forged blade, stiff and ready to strike, tensing everything within her and making a few fingers in her hair turn into a grappling hook tied to a moving mountain.

María is startled enough she can't remember how to glare.

A frown does accompany her widened eyes anyway, making her look... appalled, almost, an addition to her expression so unsuited to typically frightened features, youth tainted by the face of someone used to having to fight to stay alive.

It almost happens in a flash then. The reflection moves and adjusts and fixes and what had started as something that had María's lips split into something acid and trembling, turns into something unpleasant and acrid, but silent, as María sits and lets herself be mandhandled one more time.

That's when she glares. After the avox finishes up, after their eyes meet in the mirror and María sees none of the downturned gazes they're trying to make her accustomed to.

Seeing avoxes pisses her off.

Why take it out on them.

She understands what they are, what they're supposed to represent.

To her, an avox is a statement. No longer a person but rather someone rid of their innate right to be considered one. Even with the determination and life in this avox' eyes, María has come to understand them as tools Snow uses to assert his dominance, people from all circles of life, punished with the robbing of their words... and their detached tongue metaphorically forced to lick away at the tip of the shoes of people like María.

All a scheme.

Infighting.

Use the prey on the prey, make them take each other out.

It'd be easier to feel pity if María could sleep, if the avox hadn't adjusted her appearance, and if the avox wasn't staring her down as if she had any right to do so.

She's oddly beautiful.

She's oddly familiar.

"Why are you helping them?" she hisses, low, whispered, because she might never admit it, but she's... she's a little scared, isn't she? Lately? Devora's face swims before her inner eye, so stern, so wrong.

"I'm on your side more than they are," she adds, pulling a strand of her hair out of the freshly adjusted bun.

[midnightdemonhunter]

I don't if you consume a lot of this sort of content, but do you have any Mikan-centric recommendations? Specifically fanfics/things on AO3 so I can put them in my Mikan collection, but comics would be fine as well. I'm fine with any ship also—I specifically really want works that deal with either Mikan and Junko's relationships or Mikan's relationships with the rest of the remnants! But I'm pretty much fine with any Mikan content. I have a Mikan collection that needs more work! Though it's fine if you don't have anything to recommend, too; I'm not sure how big on reading fanfic you are versus writing it (her smile is the sun is one of my favorite fanfics ever btw). Just was wondering if you had any Mikan centric recommendations!

Ooooo thank you for the ask! I do in fact read a lot of fanfic, and there have been many times where I've gone out of my way to find Remnant or post canon sdr2 fics, so I do have some in mind!! (And thank you for the compliment!! I'm delighted to hear my fic stands out to you!!) Here's some Mikan recs:

The Lion's Den - Chapter 1 - Arcawolf - Dangan Ronpa [Archive of Our Own]

Okay so this fic is LONG, and it’s Makoto-centric, since it's 90% his pov in an au where he’s kidnapped by Remnant Komaeda in the middle of Despair Era. However Mikan’s dynamic with Makoto and the other remnants is a prominent feature, and I remember really enjoying her in this fic!

Kayleen756894 | Archive of Our Own

I’m just linking the author here since literally all their danganronpa fics are about Mikan and Junko lol. Might not be your thing if you’re looking for a darker, canon-compliant exploration of Mikan and Junko relationship, since all their fics are non-abusive Junkan, but I do love their writing style, and their fics are really fun! I’d recommend giving them a shot!

Okay it’s been a while since I read this one BUT I love all of op’s danganronpa works, and so I trust it completely! It’s post canon, and focuses on a still despair-filled Mikan’s recovery with the help of her classmates! So exploration of both Mikan’s relationships with them and Junko!

There's Something Wrong With Mikan Tsumiki - Chapter 1 - RedPen - Super Dangan Ronpa 2 [Archive of Our Own]

Obligatory ‘There’s something wrong with Mikan Tsumuki’ rec because all of Redpen’s remnant fics are SO good and everyone needs to read all of them. Premise is that after Hajime also gets Despair Disease, Fuyuhiko stays at the hospital overnight instead, and tries to prevent any murders! This is mostly Fuyuhiko’s pov but one of the chapters IS Mikan's pov and I just love her perspective and general creepiness in this!

Also obligatory rec of one of my own fics! Each chapter is a different direction specific remnants could have gone in! Mikan features a lot in the first chapter, and chapter 6 is fully a Mikan chapter, with the concept of her having birthed Junko’s child during the apocalypse! It focuses a lot on her dynamics with Hajime and Izuru during and post Despair Era, and I really enjoyed writing it!

Another one of mine whoops, but this is basically the funeral the About-to-become-Remnants give to Junko, and Mikan is a pretty noticeable figure in it!

Took me forever to find this fic again but this is one of my absolute fav Mikan oneshots!! It’s post canon, and concentrates on her dynamic with Komaeda and her former relationship with Junko. Really love how op tackles her own self-hate, and her continuous struggles with escaping Despair.

Anyway, that's all I can remember for now, but anyone can feel free to add more recs in reblogs or comments! I'm always happy to add to my repertoire of Remnant related fics :)

[cherrygirlfriend]

answer the call pairing: reader x bsf!rafe synopsis: rafe fucking his best friend while she's on the phone with her boyfriend warnings: smut, piv, unprotected sex, possessive rafe MDNI! - wc: 1k it's the fourth day of my birthday week celebration!!! god, i spent the entire day running around my apartment doing chores bc i refuse!!! to do chores on my actual birthday n now i'm so tired i might go right to sleep ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

rafe had you on all fours on your canopy bed, holding onto one of the posts for dear life as he pounded into you, the bed swaying every time he thrust his cock into you, one of his hands gripping onto your hair while the other rested on your ass, occasionally giving it a sharp smack, causing you to let out a noise that was between a gasp and a yelp.

"aww, look at you." rafe cooed mockingly with a tug at your hair, the blonde panting behind you "so fucking desperate for me to fuck you. bet your little loser boyfriend can't fuck you like you need to be fucked, hm?"

you hated the words that were leaving his lips, but you couldn't deny that he was right; your boyfriend definitely couldn't satisfy you the way rafe always seemed to be able to do, he couldn't hit that spongy spot that caused you to curl your toes, or rub your clit in the way that caused your back to arch off the bed. not like rafe did.

"say it," rafe commanded, "say that he can't-"

rafe let out an annoyed growl when he was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing on the nightstand. his initial plan was to tell you to ignore it, but when he saw who it was, he got a whole new idea, a grin taking over your lips.

"answer it."

"w-what?" you looked back at rafe with furrowed brows, thinking that he must be joking, but as he continued to pound into you, there was no sign of hesitation on his face, only a wide, cruel grin.

you reached for your phone from the nightstand, rafe slowing his pace as you looked at the caller id with widened eyes, almost waiting for it to change into something else, but clear as day, there was your boyfriend's name, along with the contact photo you set for him, a picture of you two taken at a carnival.

"do it before i do it for you." rafe mumbled as he bent to press a small kiss to the back of your neck, grabbing your ass roughly. and hesitantly, you pressed the green button visible on the screen as rafe pulled out of you.

"h-hi, babe." you said, trying your best to steady your breathing as rafe teased your entrance with the tip of his cock, the hand that was in your hair just moments ago going down to rub your clit.

"hey, everything good?" the voice on the other line asked, and you had to hold back a moan by biting down on your lip as rafe's middle finger brought some of your arousal to your clit, starting to slowly rub the puffy bud.

"yeah, everything's good." you chuckled, "i was just working out."

when you said that, you felt rafe's tip slowly starting to enter you, stretching your walls as you tried not to let out any noise, your boyfriend going on a tirade about something that you honestly couldn't give two shits about at that moment.

rafe continued moving in and out of you, at first at a slow pace, slowly building it up; all the while your boyfriend was talking, and you occasionally let out noncommittal hums and 'mmhm's, but the harder rafe was fucking you, the harder it was to concentrate on anything other than him, and trying to keep quiet felt like rocket science at that point, and you were starting to taste blood in your mouth from how hard you were biting down on your lip.

"i-i gotta go." you said into the phone, nearly panting, "i'll see you later." you said, hanging up before he could even get a word in, feeling the band in your stomach getting closer and closer to snapping, letting out a moan you'd held in for too long the moment that you were off the call as rafe started pounding into you relentlessly.

"say it." rafe commanded behind you, your eyes squeezed shut, your mind hazy with pleasure, confused as to what he was talking about. "say that your boyfriend can't fuck you the way i fuck you."

you were a panting mess as he continued hitting the spot inside of you that only he seemed able to reach; a part of you didn't want to say it, didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but the moment the palm of his hand landed on your ass, you yelped, the pleasure almost overwhelming.

"h-he-"

"nuh-uh. your boyfriend."

you let out a small whine when he corrected you, trying to steady your erratic breathing as he continued thrusting in and out of you.

"m-my boyfriend... can't fuck me the way you do..."

"atta girl." rafe chuckled behind you, and the way his fingers continued circling your clit while he pounded into you from behind was getting almost overwhelming, and rafe could tell that you were getting closer by the way you were starting to clench around him, the blonde letting out a groan, "gonna come in this pretty pussy..." he mumbled, "she's practically begging me to... wants me to show her who she belongs to..."

a part of you wanted to protest, but you were so close that your mind was clouded by all the bliss he was making you feel, the world around you getting so hazy that you couldn't bring yourself to care as long as you got to come.

and as soon as you felt the band in your stomach snap, rafe's cock buried deep inside of you, he couldn't help the almost animalistic groan that left his lips, warm pumps of cum filling you up

[sysig]

Sizing chart of cute: One Size Fits All (Patreon)

[baurem]

cw: children, bakugo being a tired dad and then some wc: 604

with the soft patter of small feet and the door’s hinges quietly crying as it was pushed open, you feigned sleep. through ajar lids, in peeked your mixture of love, your husband and your own affections personified into something you both cradled and loved undoubtedly.

biting back a grin, you listened for the shuffling of your bedsheets as your daughter forcefully settled in between the spooning position that bakugo held you in. 

“papa..” your three year old called out in a whisper, her palm lightly tapped his cheek.  still in his drowsy in between, bakugo hummed roughly to let her know he was listening. 

“move over..” she whined as she pushed his shoulder to create more space for herself

“no, i was here first.” bakugo’s tongue languid with sleep but unmoving to your daughter’s attempts.

her little lips pursed like yours and her brows furrowed like his as she conceived a way to convince her hard-headed father to move. she turned her body to you, preparing to wake you up until a large hand interrupted her. 

“no, don’ wake y’er mama up.” his voice mellowed by fatherhood and patience. katsuki’s daughter turned with a pout at his whispered chiding, the same one he often wore against you.

  still, even while unconscious and in his grasp, he sought to preserve your sleep though there wasn’t a need for it (not that he should know). 

he lured her back with his hand splayed out on her tummy which earned yet another whine from her as she sat back into the tight space between you and your husband. 

she stared back with a disgruntled expression he knew all too well; cheeks puffed up, eyes narrowed that were still swollen with sleep, and a deep frown all at the lack of space her father provided. 

katsuki stared back, now more awake than before, but still just as adamant and stubborn as the red-eyed girl before him. 

“gotta use your manners if ya wanna be here.” 

after a beat of contemplation, your daughter spoke up, “papa..?”

“hm?” katsuki hummed, attentive.

“can you— can you pleeaase move over?” she asked, softer as to not disturb her mother. 

katsuki deemed it good enough since it was too early in the morning for a lesson. abiding by her plea, he shifted over which opened up the space for his little one. 

“mm.. thank you.” his daughter murmured as she squirmed into her place under the sheets and between her parents. 

katsuki hummed in a quiet response. his attention on the way her eyes fought sleep, nestled in the warmth and scent of her parents. once he’s sure she’s asleep, his attention shifts over to you.

“were you going to help at all?” he huffs. 

“i knew you had it.” you toss over to gaze to your family with a sapped grin at his discovery of your consciousness; your husband furrowed his brows at you like your little girl would when she didn’t get what she wanted and your daughter’s face squished on the pillow like his would whenever he came home from a long patrol.

katsuki saw you too in that moment, you think; with her hair disheveled in the mornings just like yours would be and the light snoring from her— the snoring you both vehemently denied though he insisted on it. 

he must’ve also been feeling that same swell in your chest too, the overflowing of love seeping out of your chest and into your throat. the kind of feeling that only mornings like these could bring out of you both; you, your husband, and the whole of you both combined snuggled in bed together.

“you always do.” 

[bowsersdick]

ok rewatching spn because im a fucking idiot. i hate this show