#firebird text

[firebird963]

In Russian, they don't say, "I love you." They say "Идите луком, мне нужно собрать инструменты"

Which roughly translates too

"When I look at you, I get the feeling that nature is playing jokes on us. It's as if both the left and the right hand have clutched the head to realize for the first time that they are two parts of a single whole."

Which I think is beautiful.

[firebirds-flaming-art-blog]

Will Draw for Food

I'm really sorry to beg like this but I need money for food this month. I'll do $25 illustrations of OCs, characters, whatever you want.

I'm comfortable doing nsfw and LGBT+ themes

Just message me for my portfolio or look at my blog

[firebirds-biohazard-rp-blog]

Gonna rebrand this to a Resident Evil RP blog. Currently 1am when I type this but I'll flesh it out more tomorrow, or whenever I can.

Mostly going to be using this blog to place writing for an RE comic I wanna do.

Muse list:

Rebecca Chambers

Rosemary Winters

Chris Redfield (mostly RE8+)

Jake Muller

OC list:

Alexander Wesker:

A young male clone. Sole survivor of the Seeker bunker incident. Has a lot of anger and survivors guilt to work though.

Shale Walker:

Indigenous American two spirit who's a lab tech by day and drag queen by night. A normal fucking human (shocking I know)

Grace and Chrome:

A Bio Organic Weapon known as a Wyrm. Happily share a body, love hunting Plaga.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

FireBird - March

Ah, my dear friend @cilil was so good to send in a couple of requests!

It's my joy and honour to present the first fic to you tonight :D

Prompts: “The worst part is you didn’t even notice” – “I don’t need a gentleman right now.” – Responsibility – Knight in shining armour

Pairing: Eönwë x Gothmog

Words: 1030

Warnings: Injury, blood, sadness, bad elves, good Eönwë

“Let him be, I’ll take care of it,” Eönwë called, feeling the back of his neck heat up as the despicable half-truth crossed his dry lips.

Nobody had expected the co-habitation of once inveterate foes to be easy, and Eönwë even secretly believed that Manwë could and should have been more discouraging when it came to the outright hostile behaviour towards the reformed former denizens of Angband.

Unfortunately, the reality turned out to be much worse than anything the kind-hearted herald had ever imagined.

“Milord,” the group of reembodied Elves muttered and withdrew reluctantly.

It was forbidden for the Balrogs to travel in groups, and much too often resentful, unforgiving members of the High Houses liked to corner Melkor’s fallen servants and harass them cruelly.

“Away with you,” Eönwë called sternly. “Leave it to me!”

Of course, Eönwë did not doubt that any of the fearsome Maiar could have defended themselves against a few puny incarnates, but he took his role as a keeper of the peace very seriously.

Moreover, he was eager for this one Balrog in particular to understand that he was on his side, as much as that was even possible anymore.

“Bird,” Gothmog purred, leaning heavily against a boulder, and trying to angle his body so as to dissimulate the minor wounds the group of pesky troublemakers had inflicted upon him. “Have you come to chide me? I swear upon my honour that I’ve not laid a single claw upon your precious Children.”

At that ludicrous declaration, Eönwë let his frown deepen disapprovingly.

He knew Manwë’s stipulations only too well—after all, he had been the one tasked to convey them to the unfortunate souls they concerned—but, in his heart of hearts, he nevertheless much regretted to see his friend and lover hurt because of a set of cold, unfeeling rules.

“You’re allowed to defend yourself against those who’d seek to harm you,” he murmured insistently.

“And risk your displeasure, beloved? From your sweet lips came the ordinance to renounce my evil ways, and I shall do so, no matter the cost to my health and heart,” Gothmog replied calmly.

Unfortunately, his efforts at clumsy gallantry were considerably hampered by the fact that he was by now slowly slumping under the strain of desperately pretending that he was perfectly hale and happy.

“You look particularly appetising today, bird,” Gothmog tried to assuage the worry in the bright, sky-blue eyes of his most cherished enemy. “I mean, you look handsome.”

Eru’s long-haired pet meat bags might never have understood it, but there were truths and affinities sung into creation that far transcended their very limited interpretation of beauty and affection.

Thus, it had come to pass that these fierce warriors—having fought ferociously on opposite fronts in a seemingly eternal war—had ultimately found well-deserved peace in one another.

As all star-crossed lovers were wont to asseverate, they naturally were willing to selflessly die for the other.

Living, they’d soon found out, was a much more arduous and treacherous challenge.

Ever diligent to the point of undeniable stubbornness, Gothmog had decided that he’d use his new-found freedom to give Eönwë what he clearly yearned for so desperately: a proper romantic courtship.

“Could I interest you in a leisurely stroll by the river then?” the Balrog asked in a forcibly level voice.

“Don’t be silly,” Eönwë exclaimed. “You are injured! This is hardly the moment for pleasant walks by the water. Let me see!”

Indeed, the herald’s heart ached as he glimpsed the superficial but undoubtedly painful gashes marring Gothmog’s precious, gleaming hide.

“I shall have words with them,” he grumbled, gnashing his flawless teeth.

“Do not trouble yourself on my account, my sweetling,” Gothmog assured him quickly as he tried to squirm away from the inquisitive fingers ghosting across his skin and threatening to undo his carefully constructed façade of good manners and gentle words.

“They are my responsibility,” Eönwë opined. “And so are you, you foolhardy creature! If you will not defend yourself, will you at least promise to call for me if this ever happens again?”

His stern gaze softened, and his pursed lips relaxed into a charming smile. “I quite like being your knight in shining armour.”

As if embarrassed by his own confession, he drew his wings up defensively.

“Keep talking,” Gothmog drawled. The cocky, teasing grin he flashed Eönwë now was genuine, despite his tangible discomfort.

“You’re not the only one who’s trying to impress by putting his best foot forward, and the worst thing is, you didn’t even notice…” Eönwë complained softly, rubbing a blood-stained hand along his chiselled jaw shamefacedly.

“What do you believe has escaped my notice? How competently you’ve handled this situation, getting rid of these unwelcome intruders with aplomb and grace? Or your indescribable beauty as you arrived on the scene like an avenging entity made of summer bliss and autumn storms? You underestimate me, my winged wonder, for I am humbled by every awe-inspiring detail of your appearance and demeanour!”

“Humbug,” Eönwë mumbled, flattered despite suspecting that he was being lovingly mocked. “I don’t need a gentleman right now, Gothmog. Tell me how bad it is…Should I bring you to Estë?”

“Pah! Estë!” Gothmog guffawed. “What for? To be fussed over endlessly? ‘tis but a scratch, I tell you.”

Lifting his arm slowly, he cupped Eönwë’s cheek tenderly. “Please, believe me when I say that neither your entirely unnecessary preoccupation nor your gentle care has gone unnoticed.”

Beneath the soothing, healing caress of the one he loved against all odds and despite the bitter feud engraved into their very souls, Gothmog finally relaxed.

“When you arrived, I couldn’t help thinking how marvellous it is to see you appear like a ray of sun cutting through the blinding, burning mist of battle and to know that you’ve not come to smite me.”

“I am on your side, you know?” Eönwë whispered, curling up against the living heat of the terrible fire demon.

“There are no sides anymore,” Gothmog reminded him, quoting the announcement that had allowed them to meet and reconnect once more.

“Nevertheless…”

“Yes,” Gothmog yawned, slinging his arm around his beloved hero. “Thank you!”

-> Masterlist

Lots of love from me! (I shall be busy this weekend, but I theoretically am still willing to write something for this <3)

@fellowshipofthefics You didn't think that I'd skip this one, did you? LOL

[icezansky]

the problem with mechanic!au is that i know fuck all about cars

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Johnny Lawrence’s daughter

Johnny Lawrence x daughter!reader

warnings: alcohol, underage drinking, classic johnny sexism <3

a/n: WHAT! ME write a fic thats not gn, i know. im shocked too but its just bc i feel johnny is so gender-stereotypey that doing this gn wouldn’t work very well but very open to a son!r or nb!r if anyone is interested (bc seriously. johnny cannot help but bring up genders). also i just want to say that a lot of this (not all!) honestly reminds me of or are actual things that have happened w my dad bc johnny is literally my dad if my dad was like 8 years older i think also i wrote this all in one sitting ALSO NO COBRA KAI SEASON 6 SPOILERS

prompt:

GIRL DAD!

you always kinda just gravitated toward living with your dad

“y/n, i’m so proud of you. i never have to worry about you. you can take care of yourself. robby on the other hand, i worry about him. i think girls are just more self sufficient” -johnny, a little drunk

“thanks dad” -you, also a little drunk (hes a “cool dad”)

he was the type of parent that “prefers that if you’re gonna do something stupid at least do it while he’s around” aka underage drinking

whenever he stays out late you fall asleep in his bed. and lock him out

“y/n! open the door!” -johnny, banging on the door

“no! your bed is more comfortable” -you

he thought it was sweet honestly but he did want to sleep in his bed

sort of like a lesson not to come home late all drunk and gross

he was VERY against letting you drive his car

“dad, i need my license!” -you

“no woman is getting behind the wheel of my firebird” -johnny

“why do you have to make it about women? i’ll fight you” -you

“you’ll lose that fight” -johnny

“oh, so you’d fight a teenage girl? wow, real classy, dad” -you

“no, but i’d fight my teenage daughter. i brought you into this world and i’ll take you out” -johnny

you honestly had a great sense of humor with johnny, but you’d check him if he said anything too messed up

“dad, it’s not the 80’s anymore, you can’t say that” -you

“dont tell me what i can and cant say! the 80’s were awesome, i wish it was the 80’s again” -johnny

“so i’ve heard” -you

he helped you with your homework as a kid until like, 2nd grade when multiplication and division got involved

he did teach you karate growing up! but mostly the basics, for self defense purposes

“hey, never let any guy try to impress you with his karate skills. he’s probably a douche” -johnny, pausing “i sure was”

late night movie marathons (70s/80s classics for sure)

he took care of you during your first hangover (high school parties, ya know)

“didn’t i teach you better than to mix liquors” -johnny

“ugghhhh” -you

yes, you have heard about daniel larusso. enough said LMAO

robby and you had a kind of sweet but distant relationship

occasional check-in texts

robby: are you doing okay with dad? he’s actually buying food and shit?

you: yeah! he’s fine right now, how’s mom? new stepdad yet? is he rich?

robby: mom’s not going anywhere she’d find a rich guy, but keep dreaming

you wear a lot of your dad’s old t-shirts. usually band tee’s

oh and he made sure you got into the “right music”

he used to drive you around in the firebird when you were a SMALL CHILD (front seat, no car seat!) and blast his old cassettes

for YEARS he’d pull the “who is this” “what song is this” game with the reasoning:

“if you wear a band shirt and some asshole asks you to name three songs, i want you to name ten” -johnny

listen. you were still “daddy’s girl” or whatever used to be a cute little saying and is now ruined but whatever

“dad, can i have twenty bucks?” -you

“for what” -johnny

“for fun. pleaseeee” -you

*johnny pulls out his wallet and gives you $40*

could he afford it? no. can he say no? also no.

the absolute fear he felt when you got your first period

“it’s fine, i can call mom” -you

“no, it’s not fine! i’ve had girlfriends before, i got this. stay here, i’ll be back” -johnny

he went to the store and bought the most random assortment of period products and pain meds and snacks and a heating pad

A for effort

when the diaz family moved in across from you guys, miguel took one look at you and johnny said:

“stay away from my daughter”

when the karate fuss got started you tried to keep your distance but sooner or later you joined the dojo and proved to your dad just how “badass” you could be

“take notes everyone, y/n’s gonna be the next all valley champ!” -johnny

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @retvenkos // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @an4aaa // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @sapphireplums // @petersgroupie // @ravenhood2792 // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @elemental-of-magic //

[deanwritings]

The Guest House - Chapter 9

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 3,474

A/N: I can't tell you how much I appreciate everyone's kind words and support these last few weeks. It was a very tough time but I've finally given myself time to rest and recover and starting to feel better again. I'm so happy to be back at this story and hope you all enjoy 🩵🩷

“I WHAT?” You stammer as Dean leans back, out of your space, still grinning. 

After you had told him about your dream car, he had texted Rick, asking him if he would bring the ‘73 Mustang along for you to drive while he worked on Rick’s show cars. He initially was going to leave you at home with his mom, but thought you would enjoy this a lot more.  

Plus, Rick loved showing off and racing his collection–the ones he didn’t plan to put up for auction–so he was more than happy to oblige. 

“Hey, Dean!”

Speak of the gray-haired devel. 

Dean turns to see Rick jogging from the garages, his arm outstretched above him as Dean waves back. 

A few seconds later, Rick steps into the circle you and Dean had created, his hands on his hips as he catches his breath. 

“Y/N,” Dean points towards the newcomer. “This is Rick. Rick, Y/N.” Rick reaches out his hand and you take it, giving it a firm shake as Dean raises an eyebrow. 

“Nice to meet you,” you greet Rick with a smile as you drop his hand. 

“You as well.” Rick returns. “Heard you had an interest in Mustangs.” 

Dean’s eyes dart to you, his smile growing as the color rushes to your cheeks before you sneak a glance at him.

“Really just one Mustang.” You admit, your attention back to Rick. “My dad tried to get me a ‘74 for my first car but my mom shot that down pretty quick.” 

“Ah,” Rick snaps. “That’s too bad. Beautiful machine.” And you nod in agreement. 

“Well,” Rick’s hand lands heavy on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean here has some work to get to for me, but while he works, you and I will play.” Your lips pop open at Rick’s words and you suck in a breath as you quickly turn to Dean, panic in your Y/E/C eyes as your gaze darts across his face. Dean can’t stop the smirk that appears as you look up to him to save you.

“He’s harmless, I promise.” Dean assures you with a wink, his hand coming to rest on your upper arm. The color returns to your cheeks, and Dean’s smirk relaxes, just one corner of his lip raised as his heartbeat slows. 

Fuck. He drops his hand away from you and straightens out as he clears his throat. Touching you while you were looking up at him like that, through your thick lashes, was a bad idea. And he takes a step away.

“Well, I’ll leave you kids to it.” Dean turns, walking backwards to keep his eyes on you and Rick. And you. “Have fun.”

This time, he fully turns, away from you as he hears Rick starting his spiel about Mustangs and how they were first introduced to the public at the World’s Fair in 1964 and since then, it’s been one of the most desired cars of our time. 

Dean smirks. He’s heard this history lesson more times than he would have cared to, but Rick’s a good guy, who pays well. Really well. Just for today's work, he was going to take home $6K, which was definitely over market value for Dean’s work, but Rick liked and trusted Dean, and for a man where $6K was nothing, he was more than happy to pay extra to keep Dean around. 

Dean steps into the garage, welcomed by Rick’s Datsun 240Z, Pontiac Firebird, and of course, Rick’s pride and joy, his 1969 Corvette Stingray. The first two were going up for auction tomorrow, while the Stingray was just here for a general checkup. 

Despite the beautiful cars in front of him, his eyes are drawn a few stalls down, where she’s waiting for him. 

That sense of excitement and pride bubbles up in his chest whenever he lays his eyes on her. But she would have to wait for now. 

Tearing his eyes away, Dean claps his hands together and gives them a rub.

“Let’s get to work.”

Your heart is pounding in the best way possible as Rick crosses the finish line for the seventh time. This is the most alive you’ve felt in a long time. 

He had expertly raced you through the course, taking every curve so smoothly, you barely slipped across the benched, leather seat. When the speedometer first hit 120MPH, your eyes widened and you suddenly realized you were sitting in a steel deathtrap, going at a speed that would surely kill you if you were to crash, with a man you had met only two minutes prior. 

It was insanity. But here you were, loving every moment of it. 

“Whatcha say? Wanna take a ride in the driver’s seat?” Rick turns in his seat once the car slows to a stop. 

You take a deep breath, calming your racing heart.

“God I wish.” You’re practically breathless. “But I never learned how to drive stick.” Rick snaps for the second time today. 

“Well that’s a damn shame.” The older man shakes his head, his unstyled hair following the movement. “I would offer to teach you, but this isn’t quite the type of car you learn on.” He smiles while he pats the dashboard affectionately. 

You swat your hand through the air.

“Oh don’t even worry about it.” You were glad he didn’t offer to teach you. You would have been terrified of learning on such a beautiful car. You would probably find a way to crash it or ruin it. And you didn’t have the funds to fix a classic car at the moment. 

“But thank you for taking me. That was one of the coolest things I’ve ever done.” And it was true. The last time you had done anything this crazy was when you were in college, and did the Sky Coaster with Sydney while on spring break in Myrtle Beach. The two of you squeezed each other’s hands as you laid in the harness as you swung almost 200 feet in the air over the boardwalk. Since then, it’s been calculated and controlled decisions as you focused on growing your career above all else.

Without another word, Rick steps out of the car, and you follow.

“So what brings you up to Bolton?” Rick rests against the hood of the car, looking across at you. “Besides Dean?” He smirks. Something tells you he’s fishing, but unfortunately for him, the pond is empty.

“Well, I’m only here because of Dean, but I live in the city and recently quit my job so I decided to take a little vacation before I jumped back into the rat race. I’m renting out Dean’s guest house.” Rick wrinkles his nose and looks away.

“Dean’s renting? Can’t imagine he’s liking that too much.” Rick snaps his cobalt gaze back to you, holding up a hand. “No offense.”

“None taken,” you smirk. “He wasn’t the most gracious host when we first met,” you chuckle at the memory of Dean storming you with a gun as you had lounged in the hot tub. “But we’re getting there.” Rick just shakes his head, looking like he has a comment on the tip of his tongue, but bites it back.   

“Well, I’m glad Dean brought you along today.” Rick taps the hood of the car before stepping around towards the front, and you follow. “Always nice to meet a new face.” 

“Well, I appreciate it.” You smile up toward Rick as you walk in tandem towards the garages Dean had disappeared to before Rick whisked you away in your dream car. 

“I hope you’ll be joining us at the auction tomorrow?” Rick glances down towards you, and you nod.

“I’ll probably be the most useless person there, but I will be there.” You chuckle, and Rick joins in with you.

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Rick steps in front of you as you approach the door. “Besides, I’d love to introduce you to my wife, Addie. She’ll be so happy to have someone else who knows nothing about cars.” He pulls the door open for you. “She says Dean and I are incorrigible at these things.” He shoots you a wink and you smile and give him your thanks as you step inside. 

The garage is set up similar to a classic mechanics’ shop, several work stalls running down the lengthy hall, each with a car quietly parked within them, but everything in the rectangular space screams modernity. Before each stall is a glass garage door, framed in shining black chrome. Lifts glisten in their near-pristine condition, whether because they’re new or because they’re so well kept. The floors are a polished cement, the wall color made to match.  

It was definitely designed by someone with a lot of money.

You glance over your shoulder at Rick.

“You don’t happen to own this racetrack, do you?” You pose the question, the lightbulb having gone off in your head as you take in the gleaming workspace and the proud man smiling behind you. 

“Bought it about a decade ago.” Rick rests his hands on his jean-clad hips. “Was a lifelong dream of mine. I grew up a few towns over and my dad used to take me here all the time growing up. He was a car guy too.” Rick motions to a couch along the side wall and you take a seat. 

“It had shut down back in 2009 when the original owners couldn’t keep up with the payments anymore after the economy crashed.” Rick settles next to you at a comfortable distance. “I was living in the city at the time and had no idea it was on the market. I was in the area for work and decided to take a detour to visit for old time’s sake and was shocked to find it was shut down. I was getting ready to retire, and Addie had been trying to help me find a retirement project so I wouldn’t drive her crazy,” he chuckles. “This wasn’t what she had in mind, but it gets me out of the house, which is what she wanted, so I tell her she can’t complain.” You laugh softly with him, wondering briefly what Addie looked like. Though if she would be at the auction tomorrow, you would get your answer soon enough. 

“Well it seems to be working for you. If you’re this happy coming here everyday, you’ve clearly done something right.” Rick hums and dips his head.

“You’ve got that right. I used to manage wealth portfolios for almost 30 years. I liked it, liked how important and successful it made me, but I wouldn’t say it ever made me happy.” His smile fades off. “Not like this place.” His eyes leave yours and he looks around the space. 

“And the only way I’m ever leaving here is in a body bag.” He turns back to you, a smirk reappearing. “I already told Addie to bury me here when I die.”

The absurdity of his comment catches you off guard, and you burst out with a laugh, but it doesn’t drown out his words, especially when the ring inside you like a damn war bell. 

Even on the best days, you wouldn’t say your job made you happy. Like Rick, your success was what drove you; being promoted and recognized for your work was your greatest focus, and happiness wasn’t something you ever considered. Your work was interesting to you, and a challenge at times, and that had been enough. 

But maybe it was something to consider with your next job: what would you actually be happy doing?

Before you can think on it further, a frosted glass door pushes open from the back wall, and out steps Dean, wiping his hands on a rag before shoving it into his newly adorned, black coveralls with a LRR emblem on his left chest, with his name scripted underneath. 

“Well look who's back,” his smile widens as he catches sight of us on the couch. “Thought he would have had you out there taking a few spins on the track yourself.” Dean points out one of the garage doors towards the track. 

“Turns out Y/N here can’t drive manual.” Rick gives you a few pats on your shoulder, almost like he was comforting you on the fact that you couldn’t drive an outdated system. 

Dean’s lips tick upward.

“Well color me shocked,” he drawls, not a hint of surprise in his words as he smiles down at you, his green eyes glistening. 

Stupid, handsome prick. 

If Rick wasn’t sitting right next to you, you’d probably would have flipped him off.

“Hilarious,” you deadpan instead, opting for the more civil route. 

“How are the cars looking?” Rick stands, moseying over to the car parked in the closest stall, a shimmering moss green classic beauty with a sloping front hood and concave headlights. 

Dean’s eyes linger on you, something stirring within you as he watches, before he turns away, approaching the same car and stepping on the opposite side of where Rick stands, assessing with crossed arms and a leaning posture.

You hadn’t noticed until Dean looked away, but you had stopped breathing. Your heart palpating in your chest desperately reminding you to take a breath.  

You huff heavily, letting the ache in your chest ease. The sound seems to catch Dean’s attention for just a split second before he continues on with his report, and you’re grateful his gaze didn’t hold you again. 

The two men chat for a minute before Rick walks over to Dean and shakes his hand, giving him a firm pat before breaking away. 

You stand as Rick approaches you, his arm outstretched towards you.

“Great meeting you, Y/N. Looking forward to seeing you again tomorrow.” Rick gives you a genuine smile with a firm handshake. 

“You too,” you fully return. “And I’m looking forward to meeting Addie.” Rick’s smile grows wider at her name.

“She’ll be happy to have a friend tomorrow.” 

It only takes another moment for him to disappear out the front door, leaving you and Dean alone in the garage. 

You look over to Dean, who is watching you with a relaxed smile, waiting for you to make the next move. 

You shove your hands into your back pockets and rock on your heels.

“Sooo,” you start, your teeth catching your lip on the last letter as you try to cut through the silence. “Are you done?”

Dean breathes out a laugh and looks down. 

“Not yet,” he looks back at you, holding your attention. “I just need to check out the Pontiac,” he throws a thumb over his shoulder to a sienna machine with a giant eagle emblem spread across the entirety of the hood. “Which shouldn’t take long, and then give his Stingray a tune up. Shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

You step away from the couch, heading towards the Pontiac and grimace at the tawdry design sprawled across the otherwise pristine classic car.

“People actually like this?” You point to the logo that looks very similar to Journey’s crest. Dean laughs and steps up next to you. 

“Believe it or not, a similar one went up to auction two years ago and sold for $220,000.” You whip your head towards him, your mouth hanging wide.

“You’re kidding.” You gape, looking back to the very eighties looking car in front of you. Sure, it was in good shape, and obviously people had an interest in this type of stuff, but to spend that much money on a car, a car that was really only fourty or so years old, hardly seemed worth it to you. 

Dean steps away from you, grabbing a tool box from the last station and setting it up next to this car. 

“This one won’t go for that, it’s not as rare, but if it sells tomorrow, which it should, Rick will probably get around $100,000 for it.”

“Jesus.”

Dean just smiles as he sets up his station, pressing a button by the garage door, sending the car slowly into the air, just a couple of feet, before coming to a stop.  

Dean walks back over to the first station, kicking over a some sort of roller, that you assume he uses to get underneath the cars.

As he walks past you, you can’t help but admire the broad shoulders under the fitted coveralls, the way the fabric stretches rather deliciouslily over arms that you were suddenly very interested in. 

“Any chance you know much about tools?” His deep voice rumbles through you as he turns to look at you with curious eyes.

“I know the basics.” You admit, stepping out of his gaze. You may be a renter, but you had your own mini toolbox for some decoration projects or when you needed something simple done and didn’t want to bother your landlord. You were all for independence when the moment called for it. 

“That’ll work.” Dean grins as he squats down onto the roller, his thighs pressing tight against his work pants. Your heart flutters again. 

He pulls a headlamp from his pocket and positions it on top of his forehead before he lays himself flat, one hand grasping onto the front bumper.

His words finally catch up with you.

“Wait,” he starts to push himself under, but quickly catches himself at your words. “What do you mean?” 

He smirks. The smirk that makes your heart beat in a different way. In a way that makes you want to punch him. 

“You’re going to be my assistant.” You laugh dryly. 

“I’m sorry, have you forgotten that I know nothing about cars?” Your hands flair with your words. “I am not touching any of those.” You point to the car in front of you. “I’ll probably break them.” 

“I’m aware of that.” He annoyingly agrees with you, and you glare down at him. “I just need you to hand me some tools while I’m down here. It will make everything move much faster.” 

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh.’ Like I would ever let you work on one of these.” He mumbles, though still loud enough for you to hear before he disappears under the car, a light suddenly illuminating from the undercarriage. 

You walk towards the toolbox, making sure to accidentally kick his exposed work boot on your way. He grumbles something at the contact, but the words are lost with the rest of his body under the car. 

You open up the toolbox, a multi-level contraption, and see some familiar instruments, and others that were completely new to you. 

“Think you can handle getting me a 9/16 wrench?” He yells out to you. Your eyes scan the box, finding the wrenches and reading each handle until you see the size he asked for. You pick it up, but an idea hits you. 

You walk over to the car and lean down, reaching under to give him the tool. 

You smile as you hear him cuss and then the light goes out before he slides himself out from the car, pushing himself upright. This time sans headlight. 

“Everything okay?” You ask with fake concern. 

“Fine,” he responds politely and makes his way to the toolbox with the wire cutters you had handed him. His hand grazes over the container, landing at the wrenches, his brow furrowing when he notices the empty space where the wrench he requested should be. 

“Looking for this?” You hold up the wrench and give it a little wiggle. He turns towards you, his face falling as he notices the tool.

“And you gave me the wire cutters, why?” He huffs, dropping the wrong tool unceremoniously into the box as he walks over to you.

You hold his gaze, even as it makes your throat dry as he towers over you. 

“You didn’t say please.” You see the light flash in his eyes, his lips twitching up as he leans in, so close you involuntarily stand up straighter, his warm breath fanning over you as he refuses to break his stare. He holds your gaze for a moment. Then two. Before he leans to your right, his lips so close, you can practically feel them against your ear.

“Please,” he whispers, sending goosebumps chasing down your skin as your arm drops heavily to your side. 

He pulls back, still smiling as those damned viridescent eyes seem to own you. 

His hand then brushes against yours, and before you can react, he plucks the wrench from your grasp and leans away, that satisfied, smug smirk brightening his face. 

“Thanks,” he fucking winks at you before finally stepping away and dropping back down onto the roller and disappearing underneath the car. 

It’s only then you can breathe again, and with your first breath you mumble, “bastard.”

Keep Reading

Forever Tag List

@iprobablyshipit91  @likesiriusly @kittyque @findingfitnessforme @wonderange @captainemwinchester @xtina2191 @smoothdogsgirl @mogaruke @chin-up-love @tsunadesenjuuchiha @lyarr24 @globetrotter28 @krazykelly @roseblue373 @k-slla @stephv213 @kaydallas21 @nerdymuffinbonkcloud @magssteenkamp 

[anaelwings]

Late night lore dump for a needlessly complicated world (click for better resolution)

[firebird963]

Writing Pathologic fanfiction is just like sneaking into those kids sandbox after they've gone to bed and playing with their toys. Haha I'll make these idiots happy and you can't stop me small Russian children!

[firebirds-flaming-art-blog]

So there was a major issue with the Eva picture and my over use of the evil eye. I'd made a racist mistake with it due to cultural blindness in my own upbringing. So I've decided to delete it. Idk what I'm gonna do. I'll rework it or something. Just give me some time.

In the meantime, I'm sorry, and thank you to my friend for letting me know what I had done.

[lovemyromance]

I like how Elriels don't have to read 30 other SJM (and non-SJM) books to understand the connection Elain has with Azriel. It's on the page, in black and white. There's no twisting of words or reached for foreshadowing or claims of extrapolation going on. We use current canon moments that already prove Elain & Azriel are into each other.

Anti-Elriels, on the other hand, are out here doing the MOST to both disprove Elriel moments and trying to tie together any two random theories in an effort to point to some scrap of "evidence" in favor of their ship.

For example, Elriels often point to the TT & Hybern rescue in ACOWAR to show how Azriel cares for Elain. Even more explicitly stated, in his own POV VC, Azriel is ready to get on his knees for a taste of Miss Elain Archeron.

That is explicitly stated. In the text. The logical reaction would be....to believe what is printed on the page LOL???

Antis will see that moment-read it-process it- and then immediately add on a "Well-but actually".

Meaning, they'll say something like

"Well he might've offered her Truthteller... but actually Cassian offered her a knife too."

"Well he might've saved her from Hybern - but actually Cassian said they'll save Elain first"

"Well, he might've been begging on his knees to try to taste Elain - but actually it's just lust."

Every single Elriel moment they've had some kind of defense for. Everything has to be disproven ... in order to pave the way for their ship.

They are out here trying to disprove explicitly stated moments in the text... while at the same time turning around and saying stuff like:

"Elain asked for sunlight... she asked for Lucien... because Lucien's name means light and he's the heir to the Day Court."

"Something sparked in Azriel's chest... he and Gwyn are mates."

Like how are they out here saying the most - despite having zero things explicitly stated in the text. Y'all are relying on THEORIES while trying to disprove ACTUAL Elriel moments.

Like I'm sorry, but it's a little ridiculous. That's like if I saw "Elain & Lucien are mates" and said

"No actually they're not because Lucien just wants a mate. He thought Jessiminda was his mate and he loved her for so long that now that he has an actual mate he doesn't actually love Elain he really just wants a mate."

"No actually they're not mates bc azriel let out a cry before Elain got dunked in the cauldron - therefore he was crying out for her clearly. And so Lucien & Elain aren't real mates"

Or when "Lucien is compared to flames and Vassa is a firebird so he can't be with Elain because clearly like calls to like so..."

I was gonna include more Gwynriel & Elucien positive, could be romantic (if you squint and forget all you know about romance) moments but they literally don't HAVE any

Like I could sit here and make so many illogical arguments to act like what's canon isn't canon.

But I don't have to. Because Elriel has actual moments together that confirm their growing feelings for each other. The BC gives us an added layer of conflict and forbidden love trope. The talk of rejected mates in the books is foreshadowing that we might explore that plotline as well. The setup is all there, and people are just refusing to see it at this point.

[vifetoile]

Rei and Minako in summer yukata, edits and text by me

text reads: "I am girl & firebird and solace is my name" and "say you're true, say to me... c'est la vie!"

[hopelesslyhopeful11]

It’s VassIAN, not VassIEN: The Correct SJM Ship

I’ve seen the argument that Vassa and Lucien (VassIEN) will end up together and it makes no sense from an SJM standpoint. Not when Vassa and Jurian (Vassian) are right there!!

1. I present to you, honorable citizens, the evidence as told by text and SJM herself:

Exhibit A. Vassa was able to see through Jurian immediately (Chapter 54 of ACOWAR)

From Feyre with Rhysand; Cassian with Nesta; Rowan with Aelin, SJM notoriously writes about how her endgame couples are able to see through one another clearly. And Jurian has a history of being unreadable and even his best friend of years, Mor, wasn’t able to see through him, but this mortal queen he just met can? Seems more than a coin-winky-dink to me

Exhibit B. They are at each others throats just as SJM likes to write for many other endgame couples.

As you can see here, SJM loves writing couples (top images is from bottom left image is from Chapter 17 of ACOWAR) who are constantly at each others throats in a good way. She even admits so in this interview and her Facebook comment back in 2016 but the specific quote is “As soon as Nesta sat down at the table with Cassian, it was DONE for both of them—I literally could not keep them from each others throats (in the best way possible)”

Exhibit C. The banter is classic SJM endgame material.

The teasing and tension is screaming from the page. SJM says that banter is a clue for her endgame couples. What more do we need?

Exhibit D. They are two people working together to build the same vision for the future of their kingdom and people and honestly the same reactions to things

To mortals who are already working well together to build their kingdom in a good balance and have shown that they have endgame potential? Yeah it just makes sense

Exhibit E. Unreadable faces making pretty damning cases.

Across the maasiverse, people have unreadable faces when they are trying to mask emotions, I.e. Rhys all of ACOMAF and Nesta in ACOWAR—ACOSF. So what is Jurian hiding? Given everything else, one could safely bet his true feelings for the Firebird Mortal Queen.

In conclusion,

creds to @acourtdelaluna for her help with these points!!

[icezansky]

ice driving a pontiac firebird

[kat-sullivan]

Text (Robin): hey firebird. You’ve been quiet. Everything alright, love?

[Text] As alright as it can be, Sir. @domrobinxgardner

[kopfkino-o]

Pro Vassien Super Post

One of my favorite potential ships within the ACOTAR world is Vassa x Lucien. The bird of fire and the lord of flame. The cursed queen and the spell cleaver. Soo I decided to put together some thoughts based on what we've read in the text so far! It’s a little unorganized, so bare with me.

This is obviously a pro-vassien post, so if that's not your cup of tea then this might not be for you! And as always, these are just my own opinions and interpretations.

Ready? Let's go!

The Cursed Queen and the Spell Cleaver’s Son

In ACOWAR, we are introduced to Queen Vassa, the human queen who has been cursed by the sorcerer Koschei.

“But yes—queen by night, firebird by day.” He [Lucien] blew out a breath. “Nasty curse.” — ACOWAR

In this same book, we also learn that Lucien is in fact the son of daddy Helion, High Lord of the Day Court, and the Spell Cleaver. Famed for his ability to “cleave” or break magical wards, spells, and enchantments. A gift we saw Helion use first hand when he broke the spelled chains of Elain following her rescue from the Hybern camp.

And, interesting enough, a gift we might have seen Lucien himself unknowingly utilize in ACOMAF when at Hybern.

“There was a flare of light, and a scrape, then Lucien was stalking towards Elain, freed of his restraints.” - ACOMAF

Interesting that we met a cursed queen in the same book we also learn Lucien is the son of the Spell-Cleaver. And what’s even more interesting, is it seems SJM retconned some details in how Vassa was found.

In ACOWAR, Lucien tells it was Papa Archeron who found Vassa, and that he joined up with them after she was freed. However, in ACOSF we are told Lucien was, in fact, there and played an active part in finding Vassa. Here’s what the books say:

“Lucien.” I breathed. “Who?” Drakon’s brows narrow. “Oh, the male with the eye. No. He met up with them later on—told them where to go.” - ACOWAR

“He [Koschei] is still at the lake,” Lucien said carefully. Lucien had been there, Cassian recalled. Had gone with Nesta’s father to the lake where Vassa was held captive.” - ACOSF

Interesting, right? Why retcon this little detail? To me, it it seems like SJM wanted to give Lucien the knowledge of where Koschei’s lake is because, as we know, it’s only a matter of time before Vassa is called back. And is it not interesting that Lucien, the Spell Cleaver’s son, is one of the only characters who knows where his lake is? If not the only one. Seems like future set up to me.

Because, it makes sense, wouldn’t it that Lucien would be the one to return to Koschei’s lake to break Vassa’s spell and set her free. He, after all, might be the only one with magic capable of such a feat.

The Lord of Fire and the Bird of Flame

One thing that I think is very telling, especially in regards to Lucien and Vassa, is the way Feyre (our queen, our mother, our primary POV character, and arguably the “main character” of the series) observes these two. There’s a few instances I’d like to highlight. Starting with the infamous:

“A lord of a fire and a bird of flame. I wondered if they’d found each other yet.” — Feyre herself, ACOWAR

Here we see Feyre assign them what reads a hell of a lot like a couple name. She’s grouping them together and calling attention to them being a pair. And they do fit pretty well together, no? A son of autumn [see: fire] and day [see: spell-cleaving] and a bird of flame. The fox and firebird. The emissary, son and friend of many courts, and the human queen.

This isn’t the only instance Feyre calls attention to these two in the story. One of the most interesting instances for me is her observation of Lucien and Vassa on Solstice.

Lucien, surprisingly, was chuckling, his shoulders loose and his head angled while he listened [to Vassa]." - ACOWAR

Why was this surprising to Feyre? Perhaps because she’s seeing her friend back to his usual, carefree, easy going self while in the presence of Vassa? Regardless of what this scene means, I think it’s telling that it was Feyre, the story’s primary POV, who noticed this interaction and commented on it within her internal monologue. It’s almost as if SJM—through Feyre’s eyes—is leading the readers to pick up on… something.

The Sly Fox and the Fierce, Untamed Queen

It's time to talk about Jesminda. The woman Lucien loved. The woman he thought might be his mate. And the woman he lost.

According to Lucien, Jesminda was:

"Jesminda had been all laughter and mischief, too wild and free to be contained by the country life that she’d been born into. She had teased him, taunted him—seduced him so thoroughly that he hadn’t wanted anything but her. She’d seen him not as a High Lord’s seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him." - ACOWAR

I think this passage is incredibly important when we look at the dynamic between Vassien and E/lucien. We see, through Lucien's own POV, that it was pretty important to him that Jesminda saw him for who we was. Chose him because of who we was. Loved him and accepted him without question. As compared to Lucien's mate, I do think this is an interesting comparison. Especially when Lucien himself thinks...

"Elain had been … thrown at him." - ACOWAR

Now this isn't a post about Elain and Lucien, so I won't go into it, but I do feel it was important to highlight the differences between the way Lucien views Elain and the way he viewed his relationship with Jesminda. I also think the aspect of choice is something very, very important. Both in Elain and Lucien's respective, and shared, journeys, but this is something I'll touch on in a later post.

But what does this have to do with Vassa? Let's consider what we know about the mortal queen and her personality.

"Only a few years older than me, but... young-feeling. Coltish. Fierce and untamed, despite her curse." - Feyre upon meeting Vassa, ACOWAR

And:

“Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.” “You sound like an acolyte.” Lucien blushed, “She’s got a foul temper and a fouler mouth.” - ACOFAS (? - I don't have my book on me, so this might be taken from the wrong book)

I think when we look at the way Vassa and Jesminda are described we can see there are several similarities between these two females. Jesminda was wild and free, filled with mischief. Vassa is fierce and untamed with a foul mouth and fouler temper. To me, these two women seem like they're the same "type" and based on the way we see Lucien reacting to Vassa... I suspect our fox boy might have a thing for fiery, foul-mouthed, fierce ladies.

Lucien, the Blushing Acolyte

So this section is a bit... untamed. But I wanted to consolidate all of the little moments I've picked up on... something existing between Vassa and Lucien.

“He’s keeping everything running. I think he’d have been crowned king by now if it wasn’t for Vassa.” A twitch of the lips, a spark in that russet eye. “She’s doing well enough. Savoring every second of her temporary freedom.” - ACOFAS

Indeed, Vassa still remained inside, chatting with Lucien animatedly. I supposed that if she only had until dawn before turning back into that firebird, she wanted to make every minute count. Lucien, surprisingly, was chuckling, his shoulders loose and his head angled while he listened. - ACOWAR

“The human queens are still out there,” I said. Maybe I’d hunt them down. “Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.” “You sound like an acolyte.” Lucien blushed, glancing at Elain. - ACOWAR

Both Jurian and Lucien stared at her [Vassa], the former’s face utterly unreadable, and the latter’s pained. - ACOSF

So... what does this all mean? Obviously its up for interpretation, but to me, these scenes show me a few things:

1) Lucien is comfortable around Vassa. So much so that he willingly lives with her and Jurian in the mortal lands away from his mate. That he's found friendship and acceptance with her, as well as Jurian, in their Band of Exiles.

Sidebar: I find it VERY strange that Lucien is able to live this way, especially when we know that mates are driven to always be around one another and pained to be a part. Yet... Lucien seems just fine living far, far away from Elain and Velaris.

2) His curse pains her. Ironic that the spell-cleavers son is pained over the curse the mortal queen is suffering? Sounds more like foreshadowing to me.

3) There’s something there. Could it be friendship? Sure. But... when considering the "type" Lucien seems to have, the way he seems lighter, more himself, feels to me like clever foreshadowing.

4) The obvious, stark contrast of Lucien's character when he is around Elain and when he is around Vassa. Around the former, he seems pained, uncomfortable, dejected, down on himself, lacking that usual snarky humor we know and love him for. Around Vassa? He appears at ease, shoulders loose and laughing easily, a spark back in his russet eye.

My (Maybe Not So) Unhinged Wish

So… what do I make of all this? Well, I think we will be seeing an epic love story play out between Lucien and Vassa. One where they choose one another. One where Lucien, who used to hold a prejudice against humans, falls for a human queen. A story where Lucien discovers his parentage to free the woman he loves.

And, my hope, is that by coming together Lucien and Vassa will be able to bridge the gap between humans and the Fae.

Queen Vassa and King Lucien Vanserra anyone?