#;; and i can't do nothing about his strange weather (ooc)

[slowd1ving]

Hello, I could request a Jaegyeon Na x Male!reader who is androgynous and brother of James lee please

NO STRINGS ATTACHED ・゜゜JAEGYEON NA

"I got so much to lose, so please don't ruin my mood." Unfortunately, taking your brother's motorcycle for a spin does mean you now have idiots and prospective debt collectors looking to make the man pay for whatever havoc he's wreaked, including pretty boy Jaegyeon Na, who perhaps is not the smartest when it comes to tailing someone. yo this is actually the first request I got on here so thanks nonnie :3 I hope whoever requested it actually likes this scenario (I only remember bits and pieces of the scenes he's in so it might be a bit OOC) also sorry anon if you wanted it in drabble/headcanon form honestly idk how I wrote it this quickly but same day delivery is crazy... it must've been the urge to wife this guy pairing: jaegyeon na x male reader warnings: some violence? male reader, lowkey crack since I can't take this man seriously, he's got a nice face though, do misunderstandings need a warning wc: 2.3k

LOOKISM MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

On all accounts, it should be a good day. Wind tousles your clothes as you speed the forgotten roads on your younger brother’s motorbike, while the sun’s never beat down brighter. To some, the arid weather cloys and sticks uncomfortably to their skin—but for you, this day is nothing more than bountiful beach weather. Even the last lollipop you stole from the stash in his kitchen seems more saccharine than usual; evidently, your mood isn’t the only thing that’s sweet on this wondrous day. 

Or at least, it should be a good day—but it’s not, because some idiot’s been following you through Incheon in the ugliest car you’ve ever seen. It’s hideous: so much so that you’re troubled more by its primary-colour chromaticity than the fact that it’s been cruising past you as you wind your way through the quiet of Nambuk-dong. Seriously, which child lost their toy car because of this nitwit?

The cherry flavour grows distinctly more acerbic in your mouth as you make several turns experimentally—and yep, he’s still following you. 

Question is, why?

Well, Jaegyeon Na’s seething behind the wheel as though the answer is horribly obvious. It’s only been a week since Mr. James Lee himself wrecked his new ride, a week since he was forced to take a taxi back to Incheon, and a week since he sobbed his pitiful heart out in his garage. 

Mr. James Lee did not, in fact, pay for wrecking his car. 

And Mr. James Lee probably never would, not unless the King of Incheon wanted to lose his hands to that monster. Perhaps his tongue, as well, for daring to ask for what he was owed in that freak’s presence. 

No, he festers with barely-bridled fury. He’s not a wimp—which is precisely why he’s tailing after the sleek bike. It’s not often his informants actually have useful scraps to report to him. It’s also not often (read: never) that the freak’s licence plate is spotted in his home turf. 

Naturally, Jaegyeon does the obvious: following the mysterious rider as he weaves through the streets like he actually knows this place. It strikes him as strange that James Lee knows where he’s going, but it seems the blond dye has seeped into his brain. Just a little, because common sense doesn’t seem so common for him anymore. For a moment, it seems like he’s making his way to the Incheon Airport, but then the route diverges onto the highway and he’s even more puzzled.

Where the hell is this bastard going?

What seems to be hours later (because he has been tailing you for about three hours) the motorcycle finally comes to a screeching halt. 

Where? 

At Wangsan Beach, because of course Mr. James fucking Lee came to sightsee after causing him immeasurable grief. In his own turf, too. He scrambles out of his car, fuming, as the man parks neatly on an isolated road just a minute or so away from the sand. 

“You’re pretty angry for someone stalking me.” The voice resounding from the helmet sounds muffled and disembodied, which is perhaps why it doesn’t carry the same mocking cadence James Lee’s does. Or perhaps, it’s not James fucking Lee behind the helmet. 

“Stalking you?” he sputters. His face is all twisted with rage, which is quite a shame since he’s so pretty. Like some foul-mouthed, wretched fairy, anyway. “You wrecked my car!”

“I did?” The confusion in the voice is so salient that Jaegyeon almost believes it. Almost, because everyone and anyone knows what a slippery, lying turd James Lee is. 

“Yes, you fucking did,” he hisses. He nearly stamps his foot, but he settles for petulantly jabbing at your chest instead. Once more, there’s a slight discrepancy—this time in your build, for he could’ve sworn James Lee was the same height as him. But the helmet looks down upon him, and he’s blind with rage at how condescending James Lee is. 

Maybe it’s your visor that’s clouding your own vision. You wipe the plastic with your sleeve obnoxiously—then peer at the car stalling only a couple of metres away. It looks… fine. Fine, if not egregiously, offensively repulsive. 

“I would’ve remembered such an ugly fucking car if I’d wrecked it,” you grimace. I wouldn’t touch that thing with a ten-foot pole. “I think I would’ve been awarded a medal of honour for it too. Real brave to approach that.” 

“You conniving, duplicitous bastard,” he grits his teeth, and he swears he can hear a molar crack in his pretty mouth. That’s it. “It wasn’t this car, but another one!”

And I didn’t touch it! But whoever did, did the world a service, you want to say—but the cretin looks catatonic with rage. Any further, and you think his poor face might spontaneously explode. 

“You are a scammer,” you conclude, but perhaps that, too, was the wrong thing to say. 

“How shameless can you get, you jackass?” he yells, practically trembling with his fury. Like those little blond dogs you see yapping, you fear he might lunge at you any minute now. “You know you trashed it! You laughed about it while you did so!"

“You’ve got the wrong guy!” you yell back. 

 “I’ll kill you today, James Lee.” 

Woah—your eyes widen at both his words and how his body spins into motion. He’s fast; practically phasing out of sight like a spectre as his hands reach for the lapels of your leathers to grapple them. But unfortunately for him, he did announce his vengeance before he committed to the deed. 

Thus, he, too, built his villainous end—cliché by cliché. 

Well, it’s not really the end. That little warning gave you ample time to twist out of the way—using his momentum to spin his own body and pin him to the ground with freakish strength. 

It also gave your eye ample time to twitch as the words hit home. Of course this was that snot-nosed brat’s fault—you almost felt bad for the blond beneath your heavy boot. 

But then you look at the car again. It’s still hideous. 

And just like that, you fully support that brat’s wrongs. 

“Um.” With that, you step off his designer shirt, awkwardly brushing the footprint left behind. “I’m not James Lee.”

This exchange took such a short time—three seconds, in fact—that these words don’t register until the grappler has already locked himself around your legs and pushes you flat into the dusty street. Your helmet hits the asphalt with a sharp crack, and you wince as you almost bite your tongue instead of the lollipop stick. Actually, it was a wonder you hadn’t already bit your tongue. 

But you digress.

This leaves you in a particularly awkward position. He’s wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, and as your words finally hit, he’s letting go in surprise—while you’re finally shucking off the helmet. 

Sure, the candy in your mouth is the same, but he’s currently sitting between the legs of someone who decidedly is not James Lee. 

“Who the fuck are you?” he blurts out, but his tongue feels especially dry as he stares up at your face. 

“That’s what I’d like to ask of you,” you fume, and though your expression simmers red-hot with irritation, your tone is cold now that it’s not muffled by your helmet. He can feel his cheeks prickle under your glare. “Get off me, you dumbass.”

God, he’s never felt like such a fool—sheepishly, he scrambles off you, while you mutter something that sounds suspiciously like ‘look at this fucking idiot who doesn’t fucking check to see who the fuck he’s tailing this is how movie serial killers find their prey because fucking hell what a witless worm.’

“Uh,” he starts, and can’t bring himself to finish. He’s never felt so intimidated: practically cowering before you as you corner him against the wall you slammed him against earlier. Even with the syrupy scent of cherries from the candy in your mouth, there’s nothing about the man before him that’s friendly. Not even his pretty face—those eyes are only glaring daggers at him. 

Of course, part of the intimidation is due to his anger dissipating instantly at his mistake. And the exhaustion of tailing the wrong person for upwards of three hours. And the embarrassment that, naturally, comes with tailing the wrong person in the first place. 

“Do I look like someone who cleans up after whatever my younger brother gets himself into?” The question practically trembles with rage, punctuated by a harsh crack as you bite into the sweet. He knows better than to ask who the younger brother is; it’s not like his brain is that damaged from the bleach. 

He swallows, then tentatively answers. “No?”

“That’s right,” you take a deep breath, as though you’re calming yourself back down—but he’s entranced by the way your hands massage your temples, soothing the tension headache he’s no doubt brought on. “That’s right.”

You don’t look like your younger brother, and he’s staring at the man in front of him, slightly enraptured. 

“If my younger brother wrecked your ugly ass car, what does that have to do with me?” you seethe, and the illusion is shattered. 

“It is not ugly,” he argues back for the first time, chasing after you as you dust your helmet off and head towards the beach. It’s why you came here in the first place—though, you groan mentally when you see that the sun’s about to dip cautiously past the horizon. Of course, the irritation couldn’t possibly be because of the idiot floundering after you. 

“Don’t care what you think.” You bin the candy stick, much like you bin his opinion. “Your thoughts are rubbish.”

“Sorry, man—” and he’s still trailing you, just like some puppy now that all his bark’s gone. “—I really thought it was him.”

Irritably, you halt on the spot, and his nose collides right into your back. It’s almost comical how quickly you grab his stupid collar—how wide-eyed the arrogant blond gets, how flushed he becomes. 

“I don’t care about your grudge with my brother.” You’re just about nose-to-nose with him, and his brain short-circuits. If it hasn’t already. God knows he doesn’t have the most brain power. “Quit following me, you moronic stalker.”

“Can’t I make it up to you?” he wheedles, trying to prolong your proximity for as long as possible. 

“Yes,” you deadpan. “By learning from your mistakes and not stalking me.”

“Can I at least get your name?” he takes hold on the wrist currently wrangling him for dear life. “Since you’re so close and personal right now.”

“No,” you sneer, letting go in disgust. “Fucking pervert.”

This day was not a good day. 

゜・

When you next see your brother, you hand his keys to him and vow to buy your own bike. James stares hard at you—the harrowed gaze you sport, the mild twitch in your eye, and finally, the noticeable dent in your helmet. 

“What the fuck happened?” he utters finally, staving off any traces of laughter. Alas, judging by the look you shoot him, it seems he is not destined to be an actor. 

Your jaw clenches. 

“Fuck Incheon, man,” you mutter, dragging a scraped hand across your weary face. He does the maths. Incheon. Blond. Narcissistic king. 

“James,” you intone. Seriously, this time, and all his predictions of what you’re about to say next shatter to dust. “Next time you see that stupid pretty-boy bastard, destroy whatever car he’s in.”

His brows raise, not just because he wants to grin, but also from a certain adjective nestled between the pejoratives. 

“Stupid fucking prick with no brain, no shame and no future,” you seethe. Well, maybe he just imagined it, then. 

゜・

Meanwhile, a certain blond leans against the hood of his car, absent-mindedly tracing patterns on the metal while he waits for his call to finally go through. True to his word, he did let you go—driving back morosely to his apartment while you continued down to the beach for the last shreds of the day.

But for some reason, his mind can’t let your face go. It’s out of irritation, he rationalises. That’s why he’s ringing Jichang Kwak for information, because Jaegyeon’s dubbed the King of Chungcheong the most intelligent (after himself, of course). 

Is it because the man wears glasses?

Maybe. 

Regardless of the status of Jichang’s intelligence, he knows his heart’s racing out of anger. His skin’s flushed due to rage. He’s twirling his hair because of the complex coils of revenge.

When he asks the king about James Lee’s brother, there’s a long-suffering silence on the other end of the line that makes him feel slightly foolish. Just very slightly. 

“Do you have a fucking crush or a death wish?”

“Death wish?” he scoffs. “I could take him.”

It’s only then does he remember the former part of the question and his absence of a denial. 

At the same time, Jichang processes the response given and keeps both his silence and his peace. 

“And I don’t have a damn crush,” he adds, but it’s perhaps a heartbeat too late. For the King of Chungcheong, anyway—he doesn’t think the man’s noticed either his earlier double entendre, or how comedic he sounds.

“Uh-huh.” He’s a bit dumbfounded by this turn of events, hanging up almost reflexively. Indubitably, he might’ve replied monotonically, but there’s just something about being in proximity (even just audibly) to that cretin that has him losing his own brain cells. 

For a few more moments, he stares contemplatively at his phone. Then, at last, he prays for the poor soul of James Lee’s brother—for there is something so deeply disturbing about being the recipient of that moron’s affections he can’t help but feel pity. 

゜・

[shellheadtmarc]

you know, no one calls tony shellhead in rp and this is a goddamn crying shame.

[lostysworld]

A healing touch – Kaz Brekker x reader

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 (final)

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader

Warning: OOC (I hope it's not too much in this chapter :D), a little bit of angst.

Summary: something inevitable happens, that causes you to reveal your true feelings

A/N: I hope guys, you'll like it) Also I was hit by the song "Paradise" by Chase Atlantic, and I think it's perfect for them here))

Masterlist

The weather is perfect. Perfect for visiting your friends in the Crow Club. You don't have any plans for the whole day, and not even for helping your parents in the bakery, so you decide to spend this morning with pleasure.

The anticipation of seeing Kaz is so strong, after yesterday's evening, that your fingertips are tingling with joy. Does it mean, he will finally start treating you another way, more...intimate.

But when you come up to the club's doors, two men from Brekker's guard block your way. As you want to ask what the matter is, Jasper appears behind their backs.

– It's okay, guys. Let me settle this, - he claps their shoulders and comes to you.

– What's going on, Jas? - it is strange, that you are not allowed to go further. The boy's glance changes from cheerful to sympathetic one.

– I'm afraid, you are banished, Y/N.

– What?! Kaz banished me?

What you could possibly do to cause such a move from the man. When you left him yesterday's night, everything was alright.

– I want to talk to him.

– Y/N, I don't think-

– He banished me from the club, and, as I suppose, from the Slat too, and if it's his decision, I will not argue. But I only want to know the reason, Jas, - for a second you are peering at each other intensely. – Do I not deserve it?

– You do.

– Lead the way, then.

You may be a ray of sunshine, as others see you, but you also have a strength to fight back, if it's necessary. And now it is the time.

The wooden ladder squeaks under your steps, and you can swear, that Kaz already learns about your presence in the club. Well, he'd better know.

On the last stair you step forwards in front of Jasper, opening the door in Kaz's office. The man is sitting behind his table, showered with different documents. Rapidly he raises his head to meet you in the doorway.

Jasper takes a step back and leaves you two for his own sake.

Brekker furrows, his jaw's clenched.

– As far as I know, you are banished form the club, Y/N.

– We both know, I don't obey your orders.

You look at each other with such anger and rage, but deeply in your chest you still feel resentment towards him.

– What the matter, Kaz, - you throw you hands up, coming closer. Brekker doesn't move, he doesn't even take a step back from you. – Have I done something wrong?

Your eyes are roaming across his face. Kaz looks tired, as if he didn't sleep that night at all, dark circles under his eyes become more visible.

– Nothing, - he stands out of the table, leaning on its side now with arms crossed on his chest.

– Nothing? Is it your answer? - the man is still silent. – Don't want to give me a reason?

Of course he doesn't have to, but you think, he will do it as your friend. Even if you see him as much more than a friend to you.

– Kaz, we are friends-

– Yes...'friends', - his voice is full of unhidden venom, that makes you furious and lost at the same time. – Your friends are downstairs, and you still can meet them outside of the club.

You still don't understand, but something tells you, Brekker won't explain you anything. He has his own strange reasons, and, like everything else about him, you just have to accept this.

The man waves you off.

– If it's all, - he switches his displeased gaze on you. – I still have a lot of work.

Is it the end? He just doesn't want to see you anymore.

– Of course, Mr. Brekker, - he flinches barely visibly from your addressing. – I will no longer bother you.

You comes out, slamming the door behind your back.

Kaz closes his tired eyes rubbing his face. What did you want to hear from him? What could he possibly tell? That he doesn't want you here because of the constant life-threatening? That he serves as a magnet for all killers in Ketterdam, and is afraid that you will pay his price?

You'd better stay in your little shiny bakery and never met him in years.

The sudden urge to abandon it all and stop you from leaving is overweighted by his common sense, and he just throws everything from his table in anger.

Kaz Brekker is never drunk, but now something is driving him to the bottle of whiskey in his drawer.

Even if the man doesn't want to remember this now, the day, when he first met Y/N, is so vivid in front of his eyes.

Flashback.

It is a winter evening, almost night, calm and snowy, and Kaz comes out of the Slat to find Jasper, whom all of them are waiting for discussing the next heist. And why he of all of people, should look for him?

It is cold, and the man shrugs his shoulders. His leather gloves don't bring him any warm at all and his fingertips start freezing.

After a half an hour of wandering across the town, he finally hears that familiar voice and sees Jasper along with a young woman, who the boy is hugging with one arm.

– Why should I search for you, Jasper, while you're having fun with another girlfriend of yours?

Brekker is grim, but after one glance at the girl next to Jas, he feels a bit confused. Her wide y/c eyes seem looking right inside his soul.

– I'm not his girlfriend.

As fast as the boy opens his mouth to explain, the girl cuts him off. Her voice is calm, but the man catches a sparkle of surprise in it.

Jasper waves her to Brekker.

– It's Kaz, he's my boss, - the girl steps forwards and extends her arms for a handshake.

– Nice to meet you, Kaz, - a mischievous sparkle shines inside her gaze. – I'm Y/N.

Her voice rings, not getting lost in a noisy crowd. The way the young woman calls his name sounds...nice, and Brekker blinks for several times to return his previous cold demeanor.

She still stands with her hand awaiting for his reaction, and when Jasper wants to say about Brekker's touch aversion, the man instantly grabs her hand in his and shakes.

– Kaz Brekker, miss.

Her touch is warm, he feels it even through his glove. And all of her radiates with warmness, actually Kaz thinks it's a smell of baked bread.

A knowing grin appears on Jasper's face and he decides to keep quiet instead.

End of flashback.

Slowly you became a part of the team, and Kaz wondered for a thousand of times, how natural your presence was. It felt like the Crows have been knowing you for their whole lives.

And now you are gone, and it is his fault only. But Kaz would better know that you're safe, somewhere far away from him and his doubtful fortune.

The chilly wind becomes colder, as you make your way around Ketterdam, deciding not to come back to the bakery after your fight with Kaz. Otherwise you couldn't escape your mother's questions.

Slowly your anger calms down, and while the night falls on the town, you find yourself near the Slat.

Knowing this area you would never appear here in this time of the day or without any company, like Jas or Inej. Like Kaz.

You shake your head. Kaz kicks you out of his club like you have never belonged there, severing all the ties between you.

You feel yourself like a little naive girl, who is twisted around the finger will all your trust and friendship stuff.

There is no one except you on a narrow dark street, where only one lamppost is lit. Suddenly you hear steps behind you, that are echoing from dull stone walls of slams.

You turn around to see two men coming to you, as cold shiver runs down your spine. No way it can end up well.

You fasten you steps, noticing that the two behind you do the same. When you start running, you already abandon all thoughts about escaping alive.

In the end you bump into a wall, that can mean only a dead end of the street. Perfect, just perfect. Intending to come back while it's not that late, you doesn't notice a dark side street between two old houses, that may be your escape route.

But you still hesitate, and when you refuse to go there, someone's arm grabs you and drags into the alley.

Instantly a gloved hand closes your mouth, in case you want to scream. This familiar glance of Kaz in front of you calms down your rapidly beating heart, that pounds in your throat.

You exhale in relief, and both stand like this until the strangers' step disappear. He is so close to you, there is no an inch of space in between, but his palm. Slowly, he drops his hand, making sure that you won't scream.

He looks at you intensely like this for some minutes, and when the street is empty and silent, Brekker takes a step back.

– What the hell are you doing! - of course you could thank him first, but just can't hold back these words.

– Follow me.

He nods and goes further, not looking at you, trying to bring you to the safe place. After some time you find yourselves at the Slat with no Crows on the first floor.

Without a word you come with him into his room. Honestly, you don't have a slightest idea, what he is going to tell you now, after you morning incident.

The door is closed, and it feels like your freedom is cut off by his own hands.

– When I last saw you, I was a whiny pain in the ass, - you arch a brow at him. – And now you are waiting for me on the streets to save from a pair of thugs.

Brekker is silently watching you and it starts to drive you mad.

– Did you bring me here to keep quite, Kaz? - you watch him turn with his back to you and freeze. – At least tell me, what were you doing-

– That is the reason! - Brekker slams his hand on the table surface, and you flinch. – You think, that I don't care, but it's not true.

– Kaz-

– I banished you from the club, because I simply don't want you dead. Or this day didn't teach you anything?

– So you don't want me here? - your gaze is locked on the man. – You just throw me out.

– Is it the only thing you've heard?

– Than why I'm here now?

You know, he wants you alive, it is his only intention, but it's time for you to settle this. When Brekker doesn't respond, you go on.

– Oh, I can tell you, why, - you take several steps towards him, and the man doesn't move away. – Because I'm much safer here, in the Crow club or in the Slat, doesn't matter. Any place, where you are, I'm safer, Kaz.

– But you...you deserve more than the Crow club or the Slat, - he comes up to you, leaving a short distance between. – You deserve so much more, Y/N, and I can't give you that.

It is enough. Your emotions overwhelm you, and all anger, resentment and longing for the man you love now turn into tears, that are just flowing freely down your cheeks. You know every thing, that Kaz thinks about himself, and you just want him to shut up. Only because he deserves more too.

– I'm not asking for more, Brekker. Why don't you see it?

– Why are you so stubborn? - Kaz shortens the distance, taking his gloves off. He is watching a stray tear on your cheek, but can't force himself to raise his hand and brush it off.

– Because I love you, Kaz. If you want it or not.

The man stays speechless. Not that he doesn't want it, but he just doesn't expect your feelings. He shakes his head.

– It won't end up well.

– It isn't supposed to end, Kaz! - his answer only makes you cry more, as you turn away from him, starting roaming around the room. Why should he always be like this? – Unless you want it to end, of course.

– And what do you want, huh?! - the anger slowly overflows him. – If everything stays like this, that will only give you another reason to hate me in the end, Y/N!

– What do I want? I want to spend my life with you, Brekker, every single moment of it, - you throw your hands up in displeasure. – But as I see, it's not mutual.

Kaz is still silent, and you only have to leave him be. You don't want to hurt him with your words, and knowing that, you'd better go away now.

When you go downstairs, you see Nina and Matthias, but don't even turn to her, calling you. You know, it's rude, but nothing matters now.

[shellheadtmarc]

honestly i’m still angry the mcu actually blatantly pointed to the fact that the actual mandarin - you know, the guy with the literal ten alien tech rings and tony stark’s greatest nemesis - exists within the mcu and yet have done exactly fuck all with that reveal.

[shellheadtmarc]

gonna start the new year off right (20biteen theme after today - let’s get this bread) while i rattle off to do a little tidying and such:

this here is a shipping call

i know some of y’all are shy little beans and need the nod, so consider this the nod.  you want a ship with this living dumpster fire?  boop the heart.  i’ll be coming to bug you at some point in ims or w/e and we can see if we can shake something out.

[shellheadtmarc]

you’ve got a murder of buckys, a shield of steves, but.

what do you call a group of tonys.  asking for a friend.

[shellheadtmarc]

also i am once again reminded that i loathe the idea of tony stark, a man who:

» is the bleeding edge of literally everything tech » a shitpost » a memelord » stalks darkweb secret mech messenger boards to find out where their parties are and what shit they’re talking about him » is up to date on his pop culture

somehow is too “old” and “unhip” to understand memes.  are you kidding me, half those memes in the marvel universe probably originated from him at 3am on nights he can’t sleep while he’s up making himself a microwaved grilled cheese sandwich in his underwear.

[shellheadtmarc]

okay, but you know what else bothers me about age of ultron, other than, like.  the whole taking a creation of hank pym’s and forcing it on tony to start painting him as the bad guy (and set up civil war instead of how 616 handled the civil war set up)?  the emphasis that ultron was an ai, like.  the sheer...GASP of everyone that tony had done this thing.  it’s literally like:

avengers:  GASP TONY CREATED ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE tony: JARVIS:

like.  what the fuck did y’all think JARVIS was.

[shellheadtmarc]

me:  lets my comic salt spill everywhere on accident also me:  sweeps it under the rug and goes to find a meme as a distraction

[shellheadtmarc]

the engineering lab is locked and this is the suggestion @rahasyamay had. this isn't the stark international offices in paris des.

[shellheadtmarc]

i love tony stark with my whole ass heart.  i do.

but i have come to accept the fact that he is, in fact, the leroy jenkins of marvel, and there ain’t shit i can do about that.

ain’t shit you or anyone else can do about it, either.

[shellheadtmarc]

i can’t believe i just wasted fifteen minutes of my life (most of which was spent losing my fucking mind) reading the mangaverse avengers assemble to watch the avengers turn into a giant transformer named ultimate iron man.

[shellheadtmarc]

so i didn’t get diddly done for writing, my brain’s all over the place.  but i did get some icons made for tony’s classic marvel verse.  why when i’ll never get to use them or it who knows but it’s a thing.

actually, i’m ngl, i think it’d be hysterical to toss him at the modern iterations.  behold the invincible iron man, who has roller skates in his boots and needs to be plugged into the wall so he doesn’t die.

[shellheadtmarc]

why won’t blog info/themes finish themselves, an essay by me.

[shellheadtmarc]

i’m about to lose all my friends to kh3, aren’t i?

sad trombone.

[shellheadtmarc]

when you wanna write but have no brain at all for things you good and damn well should be replying to.  and you need to be thinking about going to bed shortly but fuck it.

boop the heart, receive one liner.  will these stay one liners?  uh, it’s me, probably not.  not gonna cap it for now, and what i don’t get to tonight i’ll do first thing tomorrow (probably after class).