#Man×Type

[rambling-robot]

crazy that gravity falls was like, hey what if we made twin brothers, and one of them is the worse one. he gets bad grades, he likes to punch his problems, everyone thinks of him as “the other one.” he’s engulfed in a shadow that’s shaped like him. he doesn’t even have his own name—it’s derived of his brother’s name, the only one his parents planned on having and using. everything about him is derivative—imitative of another person (his twin brother) (the one everyone likes and wants) and is disapproved of for that reason (he isn’t just “bad at this thing,” he’s “not as good as his brother”). and then he ruins his brother’s science fair project (the one next to his own—no one noticed it because it’s not good, it’s almost stupid next to a “perpetual motion machine” made by a high schooler) (he tried to fix it) (he doesn’t know how; he’s not as smart as the guy who made it) and he gets kicked out. the potential of the money his twin could’ve made is enough to throw him onto the street, and he can’t go home until he makes that money back (the money that was never gained and therefore was never lost. he never had a chance of making enough). he took every job he could (his brother went to school). he got banned from multiple states (his brother bought a house). he traveled internationally and went to prison and had people try to hunt him down and kill him because he couldn’t make enough money (his brother’s house has three basements. he made them himself, as secure as can be). and when his twin finally summons him for help, things go wrong (he messed up this machine like the last one) (he doesn’t know how to fix it. he isn’t as smart as the guy who made it) (he tries to fix it) (he was never any good at reading and these blueprints are impossible, coded and fragmented and in a science that he didn’t know existed) (he tries to fix it). the townspeople ask who he is, and he doesn’t even say his own name (it was hardly his to begin with). and he invites them to a house that isn’t his to show off experiments that aren’t his because he needs to make money that can’t be his. everything he does for the next 30 years is in his twin’s name, for his twin’s sake. he had two funerals for himself and it isn’t even his body in the casket; he had to wear his brother’s name to both of them. if he had died before he fixed the portal, that funeral wouldn’t have been for him. we meet him as a funny and unique character, but in-universe, he’s only ever been defined by someone else.

and then they went, this is entirely in the background btw. most of that is going to be revealed in one episode and won’t be addressed again. he’s a primary comic relief, even. I’m ill about this.

[industrations]

[flufflecat]

thinking about ford "human blood tastes better" pines

ford "i have been desiring blood more than usual" pines

stanford "was bitten by a fruit bat but still wrote the sentence 'i have been desiring blood more than usual'" pines

[blakbonnet]

as i grow older and age in fandom especially, i have waning patience for 2012 style fandom wars. i don't have time for the type of person who goes "why is this the 2nd top ship on ao3 when it bugs me", i don't have the energy to be friends with people who go "i specifically expressed dislike for this ship and people still write it?" and i have absolutely no time for someone who goes "this very personal trauma i have projected onto this random character and ship should be recognized and agreed by everyone else, otherwise they're bad people"

[niinnyu]

The 4th wall is made of clear glass for her.

[followmybadreligion]

thinking about your blue-collar!husband who just can’t tell you no…

it's almost as if the word isn't in his vocabulary when it comes to you.

while he doesn't meant to over-do it, there's always something in him that just wants to make things happen, you know? wants to make you happy.

he blames his years of southern living. the culture and family that taught him that his woman should never have to work a day in her life. that all she should worry about is enjoying life— the life he provides for her as a labor of his love.

he watched his daddy do it; deliver his mother fresh flowers in the morning with a kiss on her head and his wallet on the table. before that, it was his grandfather and the ranch he built from scratch to appease his picky woman. even saw some of the chivalry his great grandfather showed in the little ways he still could, like with a new pearl necklace or fur coat on an occasion.

it was their duty as men to provide. especially as men smitten with their wives.

this is how you found yourself with boxes and boxes of gifts underneath the christmas tree, each one wrapped was with delicate touches and care. the gifts consisted of things you’d obsessed over once upon a time or maybe mentioned once in passing. it was all the same to him, though. you wanted it? he got it.

it was how you found yourself on your knees on a sunday, passing him tools as he installed new shelves and displays in your walk-in closet. you already had a vanity, a wardrobe, and as many dressers as one could imagine, but you’ve never been a light shopper. once your bags started collecting in neat piles along your room, he’d gotten a clue. all it took was a simple “honey, do you think you could do this for me?” and he’d clear his schedule.

it was how you tried nearly every restaurant in your fast-paced city. the high-brow, low-brow, and hole in the wall places, too. if he thought you’d like it then that’s exactly where he’d take you. he loved seeing you melt as you found a new dish you enjoyed. he loved how you always gathered some of your food and brought it to his lips in an effort to get him to try it. so what if the two of you ordered the same thing? your’s tastes a little different!

it was how he winded up with your name tattooed across his chest, the word carved into him in a way he simply relished in. you didn’t even have to ask for it, no, and he was in no rush to tell you either. but, he wears it as proudly as he does his wedding band— just another reminder of his devotion to you.

it was how, in the midst of a heated moment of passion, you saw that tattoo. how you halted your grinding on top of him with a racing mind and hooded eyes, locked in on the black, beautiful cursive your name rested in. how your left hand came to rest on it, and for a few short seconds, it met your wedding ring. how you really, truly came to believe that your man is so much more than head over heels for you.

[shotmrmiller]

ghost who always have a grey, heavy, uninterested air about him but one day he comes to work, and he's got something behind his ribs clawing to be let loose. his teeth are clenched, his eyes sharp. his orders bite harder, his patience runs thinner, and the recruits feel it but don't understand it.

and it's all because you couldn't lie back and get eaten out like every other morning. it was routine. ingrained. automatic. ghost slips under the covers, dips his head between your thighs, and laps at your sex until you leave the mess he loves best— the slick, saturated spot he'd sniff while still wet. (can't blame me, luvie. it's sweet.)

you'd gotten up, thrown your clothes on in a hurry, and had been out the door, keys in hand, before he could get a word in.

unacceptable.

(kyle later catches him and asks him if he skipped breakfast or something. not by choice is what ghost tells him.)

[sn0rl0]

goodmorning gale nation

[soranker]

98 lovemail doodles >_<

[yunisverse]

Been thinking about my old fakemons and what good good pubbies they are.

Cerbernard's barrel is full of aged berry juice that works as a Full Heal for lost and injured mountaineers. Berrel's barrel is full of Berrel.

[soup-mother]

the USA will bomb your country and then a decade later their citizens will tag posts about it as "#compassion fatigue"

[kettlefire]

Muscle Memory (DpxDc)

Jason barely remembered getting back to his safe house or even finding his way to bed. The night had been so tiring, so busy, and so many parts of his body hurt.

The moment his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light. Drifting off into dreamland for some much need sleep.

That was until a noise stirred him up from his sleep. It was a soft creak of one of his many loose floorboards.

It was in a flash that Jason was up, eyes still heavy with sleep, and a gun held to his thigh as he exited his bedroom. The soft light coming from his bathroom was the first hint.

When he pushed open the bathroom door, the sight before him had him holstering his weapon. Black hair, blue eyes, and blood. That's all Jason needed to see.

Jason would swear he wasn't still half asleep, that he knew this wasn't one of his brothers. In reality, still sluggish from a hard night and sleep deprivation, Jasin's brain had automatically assumed it was one of his baby brothers.

As he immediately settled into patching up the wounds, holding back questions for now. It wouldn't be the first time one of them came to him for aid when they didn't want Bruce to know they were hurt yet.

It was pure muscle memory as Jason worked. Yes, he didn't like the injuries, reminding himself to ask which rogue did this in the morning.

Now wasn't the time for an interrogation. Not with the barely concealed tears in those eyes, or the dark bags that decorated beneath them.

He barely grumbled for the teen to take the couch, reminding that there were extra blankets in the hallway closet. Dropping a few pills into the boy's hand to help with the pain he was surely in.

Jason left the mess in the bathroom, leaving it a problem for more awake him. He waved the boy off when he tried to speak, telling him they'll talk in the morning.

In the end, Jason was glad to finally face plant back into his bed. Barely bothering to curl up under the covers before sleep took over once again.

When morning came, Jason almost forgot about letting one of his brother's crash in his place. Stumbling out of his bedroom to immediately notice the lump on his couch.

He put a pot of coffee on, grabbing his phone, ready to let Bruce know that whoever came to him last night was safe and sound.

Except, when Jason moved over to confirm who it was, he finally noticed. This wasn't one of his brothers. And last he heard, Bruce hadn't taken in any new strays.

Jason stood over the sleeping boy, phone in one hand, and mind figuring out what to do. His mind replaying the half-asleep memories from last night.

It made sense, now that he thought about it. The boy had seemed so scared, so surprised that Jason was helping. The boy hadn't done anything either by the looks of it.

He didn't seem to have taken anything or even snooped. The boy seemed to have just crashed on the couch like Jason had told him to. He didn't come here to rob him or cause trouble. The kid had broken into his safe house only to raid his first aid kit.

The kid had broken into his safe house only to raid his first aid kit.

Well, Jason wasn't about to put Alfred's teachings to shame by being a horrible host either.

[ezkel]

James Potter who can read minds and has a crush on Regulus.

Regulus who's first thought when he sees James is "huh" and then from then on has absolutely zero thoughts in his head when he's around James. Insults coming out because his brain is just throwing stuff out there and hoping it sticks. He sees James and he's so mesmerized that there's nothing in his head.

James assumes Regulus just doesn't care enough about him to think of him. (He's also a little concerned that Regulus seemingly doesn't have a thought process.)

Then one day James approaches Regulus without him noticing and hears how fast, rapid and loud Regulus' thoughts usually are, only for Regulus to notice him and it all immediately becomes silent.

[cuppochino]

squishy john doe,, save me squishy john doe…. (the brush theory might be real)

[ghostbsuter]

The moment he stepped into his apartment, water met his feet, and Dick held back a suffering groan. His apartment was flooded.

He is sore, tired, and just wanted to lay down. Sleep.

Plans changed, apparently, looking at the water. Taking measured breaths, he makes his way to his small bedroom, taking out all his vigilante stuff and packed them in a bag, thankfully dry. It was annoying, but what could he do?

Certainly not go back to the mansion.

With everything stored away, the bag was slightly overpacked, it didn't dether him as he returned to the hallway just as his landlord came. Others were already outside complaining about their own flats and Dick left for now, he would... handle this after he got rest.

Dick doesn't ponder long on who to call, not really. Jason is out of question, Bruce isn't even considered.

He didn't want to leave Bludhaven... which meant there really was only one option.

"Hey Danny? My flat got flooded, could I...—"

"I didn't even finish asking—"

"What—"

"Danny, I'll be over in... 10, thank you, really."

His coworker had an enthusiastic response to his request, Dick felt unbearably fond of it. Him.

—☆

Or, Danny is a Detective in Bludhaven that occasionally visits Gotham.

The thing is, Dick figured it out pretty quickly when he started working in Bludhaven, that Danny was genuine in his business.

Not corrupted, not bought, not fake.

It made him a big target in the city. One that Officer Grayson and Nightwing made sure to protect. He, admittedly, admired the man at the police station quite a bit.

[hejee]

twitter doodles ft some guy in blue with nero’s mother