m-is-for-mungo

[m-is-for-mungo]

<3

[m-is-for-mungo]

Me when mutuals with cool people:

[m-is-for-mungo]

Reblog daily for health and prosperity

[m-is-for-mungo]

Reblog if your art project has not, does not, and never will make use of generative ai at any point in your creative process.

[m-is-for-mungo]

forever amazed at my mutuals

[m-is-for-mungo]

Maccready and Duncan hang out

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[m-is-for-mungo]

saying something you know will make people laugh. And they do laugh.

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x reader fanfic writers please just know that i love you thanks and good night

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Tango. Uniform. Mike. Bravo. Lima. Romeo.

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I'm kinda shy but if youre persistent in getting to know me for 5-6 years I can be a good addition to your household

[m-is-for-mungo]

being a boring uncool insane mutual is a hard job but someone's got to do it

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far side type single panel comic with a woman holding out a dress to a man saying “your turn to lay the eggs earl” and the caption is “home life is different for chalk bass”

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I love texting someone on discord and seeing the gray activity notice turn green. Look at your phone boy

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excUSE you, that’s my emotional support unromanceable npc x oc ship

[m-is-for-mungo]

i really like fallout because, unlike a lot of media that uses retrofuturism as just a cool aesthetic, fallout’s obsession with 1950s americana actually means something. it’s not just chrome fins and googie diners, it’s weaponized optimism. it’s that sickly-sweet propaganda sheen slathered over nuclear terror, where smiling mascots tell you to duck and cover while the government quietly preps for the end of the world. it’s about a country that believed so hard in its own greatness it signed its death warrant in cursive.

fallout takes that warped, post-war idealism, the “gee whiz!” charm of suburbia on lithium. and drags it through the dirt, showing us what happens after all the white picket fences melt into radioactive slag. in a world shaped by that specific brand of McCarthyist exceptionalism, the future isn’t flying cars and robot butlers, it’s a dinky holotape of your last moments before the bombs hit, looping forever. like vault 11, the one where the final recording plays after everyone’s already dead, revealing the whole “sacrifice one person every year or everyone dies” mandate was a lie. a loyalty test. a sick joke. and the vault passed, right before it failed, because paranoia and desperation had already eaten them alive.

that’s fallout. not just the end of the world, but the punchline that comes after the moral.

and honestly? that hits way harder than any sleek utopia. because fallout remembers: beneath all that pastel patriotism and canned laughter, something was always rotting.