#The Coyote's Dossier

[rickiedevron]

Character Sheet (Prone to updating at random)

"We're in for a good time."

Name:

Rickie Devron - Real name Jolene Kitsrick Blossom (of the Lordareon sovereignty, the Blossom’s are a noble Household of little weight in authority)

Alias(s):

The Coyote The Wanderlust Traveler

B/D:

Estimated -10 BDP, claims to be in her early thirties.

Accompaniment:

2 dogs -- One a deep red and brown coated Badlands Strider (rhodesian ridge-back) and A tricolored, short furred Gwenmayre Toller (english foxhound) A towering mare is among the crew, a breed of Marston Steed with a sturdy build of palomino pattern with eyes of a kind blue, her figure sturdy and durable (welsh cob).

Current criminal record consists of:

Disorderly conduct, drunken indecency, public brawling and bribery attempts with authority.

An adventurer who's lust for adventure supersedes her desire for settling; Oft found in mischievous situations.

The Coyote is, by every meaning of the word, a wanderer. A resourceful pack rider of who's pack consists of one human, two dogs and a horse to tow the brunt of the camp's weight. She is a woman known to travel from town to town in a nomadic fashion, a sturdy maiden of great wanderlust always writing a single name in every check-in book and piece of paperwork:

'Rickie Devron'.

Though she tends to leave her foot prints as just that, always dealing in coin or favors in the form of work to get her and her horseback crew to and fro across Azeroth proper. She has visited many villages and towns, cities on the rare occasion of necessity and rarely ever pleasure. "Too much traffic", she'd argue.

She is in the whispers of locals, commonly referred to as the Coyote for her habit of springing out of the territory as quickly as she can once she's fulfilled her needs in one place -- Usually cowpunching for agricultural towns or performing acts of service as a hunter for both bounties and monsters.

She oft wears a perky grin, always eager to mingle and swap a good story or joke. All subtle foreshadowing to a spunky shit head with a magnetic outlook to life.

Her weapons of choice, visibly and otherwise, are typically well hidden shivs -- boots and inside her jackets. A dwarven army knife, sheathed and attached to her belt. Her opposite hip carries a holstered six-chamber pistol of dark, smooth material and a dark gunmetal blue. Knuckle punchers are oft shoved into the deep pockets of her trousers. A hunting rifle, aswell-- strap hanging loosely around her broad shoulders with tailored slots for additional bullets. But she always keeps one in the chamber.

She displays languid and graceful movements for such a substantially built woman. It seems a contradiction, but she carries herself well, agile with counterbalanced strength. The nature of her womanly figure showing curves to contrast her muscles. An angular and smooth nose sits square in her face, grey eyes with dark thick lashes to frame. Deep black hair is usually tied down with a headscarf to keep the sun from cooking her head. Radiant sun kissed skin stretches the length of her average height, managing to keep its warm tones even in the winter season. Such dark days when even hiking the tallest mountain couldn't get her any closer to the sun...

There remains one bards tale out there to document the Coyote's life... A tale of a woman who just liked leaving.

[gatheredfates]

Hi, my name is Sea, and welcome to my general FFXIV blog where I cry over my six-billion ocs! While this blog is mainly used as a repository for my character aesthetics / personal work, I also reblog other peoples' edits, art, shit-posting, events & resources — among other things. ✨

You might know me from my various projects including, but not limited to; Sea's Community Compendium (with updates posted here); Sea's Character Questions, including my single-word fic drive; and The Fireside! I'm also an officer of Firelight Trading Company <FTC> on Balmung and run a casual Tumblr Community / Discord over at SEAFLOOR!

For an overview of all my characters, you can check out my dossier here. I also have a permanent interaction call you can like here!

Below are a list of links for easy navigation through my blog and its contents. If you'd like to follow my personal (side)blog, that's over on @abyssine. I hope you enjoy your stay! 🪸

This blog runs permanently on a queue.

CHARACTER LINKS. Please note, unless specified with ‘my screenshots/commissions’ etc., all content within is considered inspiration and not a direct representation of my ocs.

ASHLEY / AZUMA / KORET / SARRAI / ELANDERVIER / ALAICE / EVELYN / SEELU / Z / ARYELE / ROWAN / NYX / COYOTE / TECH BOP / CAYLEHA

OTHER LINKS.

SEA SPEAKS ( my ramblings ) / SEA ANSWERS THINGS ( inbox and/or meme replies ) / MY EDITS / MY WRITING / SCREENSHOTS & EDITS BY OTHERS / ART / WRITING ( by others ) / BOOSTING ( for events/resources/misc )

[synnthamonsugar]

DESTINYTOBER: Day 8 - Harmonica

Read it on AO3

. . .

The Six Coyotes cut through clouds of smoke and ether thick enough to taste as they made for the back of the bar. The patrons, meanwhile, moved to give them a wide berth, nobody daring to risk offending one Guardian, let alone a full fireteam. 

As they passed, the whole establishment fell quiet — except for the baleful wail of harmonica, interspersed by the gravel-voiced singing of its player. Owing to the differences of their facial anatomy, it never stopped being a surprise to Nadiya just how well eliksni could play the human wind instrument. A skill she chalked up to tongue and breath techniques she didn't understand. 

They piled into a booth, secluded from the rest of the establishment by its high walls. Out of sight, the bar seemed to buzz back to life, low chatter, clinking glasses and utensils joining the music. Shinobu pulled out a worn pack of playing cards, dealing them out to herself and Therin. Lee-4 produced some dice, and began playing a solo game with herself. Conar waved for a waiter, while Nadiya and Micah-10 unpacked maps and notes from their rucksacks, organizing evidence collected today while planning out tomorrow's moves, their voices joining the murmur of the bar. 

The waiter arrived, pad in hand. She looked harried, even the light beneath her pale green skin flickered with agitation. "You picked a hell of a time to come to the Shore. Better not cause as much trouble as the last lightbearers who passed through." 

Micah smiled in the way exos do, a brightening of optics and shifting of faceplates. 

"The opposite. We're on the trail of Fikrul and his gang." She tapped the opened dossier before her, to emphasize the point. "We want to stop their crime spree before anyone else gets hurt." 

"So were the last ones. Still didn't stop 'em from tearing up the place when they spotted a bounty. The boss ain't paying for that again."

"You can trust our discretion," Shinobu reassured. 

"Uh-huh. Well." She drew a pen from her apron. "What'll it be?" 

They took turns ordering their meals and drinks. After the waiter disappeared, the mood at the table grew subdued, everyone receding into whispered conversations or quiet work.

As Nadiya traced out the next day's route on the map, she listened to the soft, warbling tones of the harmonica, the vocals, which had taken on a somber tone. She wasn't fluent enough in Eliksni to follow the lyrics exactly, but could tell it was an old folk ballad about spacefaring, long journeys on cosmic winds. 

She thought about the paths that had led them all here, how winding and strange they'd been. She was glad for her fireteam, glad they were able to lend a hand where they were needed, but for the first time she felt a bit of homesickness for earth.

[hcark]

(boyd holbrook, he/they, cursed blood) to JEBIDIAH, the whole world looks like an open page. with a leap of faith, their ability of ENTITY BONDING grows a little stronger.  they are a COYOTE shade aligned to VANITAS. for FORTY-ONE years, they have survived a world of magic with both their GRIT and ABRASIVENESS. they work as an OVERWORKED MOTEL MANAGER ( BOSS ), but if they could change their fate, they’d want to OUTLIVE THE FELLA THAT BIT THEM. 

— STATS .

sexuality & status: biromantic / demisexual & single 4ever

hobbies: minding his own fucking business, long rambunctious naps ( his snoring’s been mistaken as the pipes settling on more than one occasion )

pets: closest he’s ever gotten to one is this one mangy rat at on the road — considers it an acquaintance for all the times it’s scared off prissy customers

relatives: everyone bit the dust — one bit him literally ( younger sister, kid was a biter growing up and not a saint )

— ‘DOSSIER’ .

for as loud and crass as someone like jebidiah is, there isn’t a lot known about the man. nothing of actual importance, that is. he’s one to keep his nose firmly out of anyone’s business and ( foolishly ) expects everyone to do the same unto him. spoiler alert: it never works out — either someone drags him into some unneeded knowledge or tries to nose their way into his.

jebidiah’s no stranger to the lands betwixt selphia and the wildwoods prior his ‘permanent’ residence, even if he’s always hated the place. everything reeks of bullshit and the million fucking bugs always do their damndest to pester him. and yet, he’s here. been here for five years and counting.

strange, isn’t it?

how such a flighty, belligerently insensitive brute like him hasn’t upped and left just yet. then again, it’s kind of fitting that he resides in a business that matches his visage perfectly. peeling wallpaper in almost every room, singed burnt orange carpet in the eyesore of a lobby, no — the curtains don’t match any of the drapes ( there’s an uneven number of them, some are even missing a panel ).

unkempt, eerily ambianced, barely functionable.

perhaps that’s why his friend had him inherit the damn place ( against ‘his will’ )... oops, sorry — that’s too much information seeing the light of day. All you need to know is that any serious complains ( aka all of them ) should go up to the big boss of the rundown motel — which totally isn’t him, and don’t try to clean up any.. messes made. you’ll probably just make the staining worse.

— ACTUAL DOSSIER .

jebidiah hails from a piss poor family of four nestled in the dirt rich countryside. mother and father never saw eye to eye on anything, even when death came tolling for their ticket in life. his younger sister, quite the maverick she was, hardly cared for the happenings on home turf. she barely stayed put until some grand adventure called her away. 

now, you might be wondering how in the world jebidiah let her go so early. wasn’t he worried about her safety? the world’s a harsh place and he’s already had his fair share of horrible treatment by her birth. and the answer is, yes, of course he was worried sick about her departure, but there was literally nothing he could do about it. well, except chase trails gone cold over and over and over again until they all... stopped for good.

family aside, he’s always been hard-headed with even thicker skin. not once did he have a goal in life other than to survive it. death would come for him whenever it’s time — he made peace with that fact early on ( perhaps concerningly so ). except.. one particular asshole made it his life’s mission to fuck the only constant in jebidiah’s miserable life.

.. and so the story about how jebidiah strayed from mortality unfurls.. it’s dumb. stupid, really, because people usually regard immortality as something gained for power, wealth, or even love. but jebidiah? yeah, no, he’s always seen it as a hoax. and even if it wasn’t just fairytale, he wanted nothing to do with it. the idea of living forever sounded like the shittiest win at an even shittier lottery. so imagine his hate-filled surprise when his nemesis ( full on most loathed person to ever exist in his life ) comes by this nifty ‘gift’. now quadruple that rage when that rat bastard bites and changes him solely to riff and neg jebidiah for eternity. 

what kind of idiotic reasoning was that?

to make matters even worse ( yes, it’s always possible ), that shithead was still green to the whole cursedblood thing. so the two of them had to figure it out together; something jebidiah clearly despised with every single fiber of his being. how they didn’t kill each other remains a mystery, but that fucker’s still out there and jebidiah’s done everything to hide away time and time again — aka the main reason for his location hopping.

then, as luck would have it, the only friend he’s ever really had ( he still uses that term very loosely ) from vanitas dies out of the blue and leaves his name on the motel’s deed. him, of all people. him. he had half the mind to just close the business from the get-go. never wanted to be boss of anything — let alone some barely maintained motel off of some shitty highway. but some odd sense of comfort, of — dare he say it — home finds its way into his dead heart. pictures of him and his friend stay up in the one room he occupies at the end of the establishment ( always heavily locked — no one’s allowed in ). regulars ( the bad and the worse ) start to.. grow on him even if the majority get on his last damn nerve.

and so, he’s come to an agreement with things. where he is in life, who he’s ( barely ) around, how long he’s been ‘settled down’... for now.

— CONNECTIONS .

TENants because there’s only 10 rooms (0/?) — made the choice to shack up  at on the road? well, there’s 100% chance you’ve come by jebidiah. either it’s at the front desk ( asleep ), swearing up a storm as a room’s being changed out, giving that one shitty vending machine situated outside a piece of his mind, etc. he acts as the overworked manager of the shitty joint — just a voice for the mysterious boss of the place, he swears it.

the ones that won’t go away ( 0/? ) — reasons be damned, jebidiah does not like to keep close tabs on people nor does he like people to think or involve him in anything. so whether it’s an attempt to recruit him into the saints organization, do one solid favor about the dead body bodies in room 1, 3, 5, or 7 ( it’s always the odd numbers for some reason ), or just to befriend him ( can’t fathom why )... jebidiah will always shoot down each and every chance. even if there’s a select few that he might have grown ‘fond’ over.

crime, shcrime ( 1/? ) — been there, done that.. one too many times over his ‘exhaustively extensive’ life. crime’s boring and so not worth the trouble. he knows he’s value in the sense of finding things that should never be found, but please — leave him out of the illegal shenanigans.

romance should be dead ( 0/1 ) — as a self-proclaimed miser, jebidiah’s always wanted to be left the fuck alone. but maybe someone wows him. really throws a hook, line, and sinker over the years somehow. no, this doesn’t mean he’ll change for the better or worse. but maybe.. he’ll make up for it in his own way after being an incredible asshole. maybe.

[unfinishedslurs]

eddie's flat ass (steddie)

Dustin whips around as soon as they’re alone. “Steve!”

“I’m Eddie.”

“No, I mean you and Steve. You like him.”

“Of course I like him, Henderson,” Eddie says flatly, pressing a little harder on the gas in hopes of getting to Dustin’s house before he admits something he regrets. “We’re friends. Best buds. A couple of dudes being bros.”

“You’re full of shit,” Dustin says. “I’m not stupid. I saw that. I wish I hadn’t, but I saw it. You’re, like, stupidly into him. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters. His street can’t come soon enough. 

Dustin pushes through. “When are you gonna ask him out?”

“Uh, never?”

“What?!”

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “Nothings going to happen, Henderson. Yeah, I’ve got a stupid fucking crush on your babysitter, it doesn’t mean that Steve’s interested in me. He likes girls, Dustin, did you miss that part in the dossier? He thinks we’re a couple of straight guys horsing around, if he found out I was flirting with him I could be thrown into Hunt the Freak 2: the thrilling sequel.”

Dustin’s mouth snaps shut, and he laughs nervously. “Right,” he agrees. “He likes girls. But, uh, hypothetically, if he was into guys…”

They roll to a stop sign, and Eddie turns away from the road to tell the little shit off. But Dustin’s fidgeting, staring steadfast at the road and refusing to meet his eye. 

“You know something,” he realizes. 

“Uh…”

Eddie’s about to shake it out of him. “You’re hiding something, you little shit. What is it? Tell me.”

“I’m not,” he squeaks. 

“Bull-shit you aren’t. What is it? Is it about Steve?” Eddie pales. “Shit, does he know about me?”

“Well…”

“What the hell?!”

“I didn’t tell him!” Dustin yelps. “If you didn’t want him to know, maybe you shouldn’t have been so obvious!”

“Check your tone,” he snaps, hand shaking as he pulls on his hair. “Shit, shit, shit, okay, it’s fine, I just need to flee the country—“

“Why?”

Eddie is this close to throttling the kid. “What do you mean why?”

“Why is this such a big deal?”

“It could get me killed!” He shouts, banging a hand against the steering wheel. “He could—he could fucking tell somebody, and—“

“He wouldn’t do that!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that? You think someone’s a good guy until you’re interested in them, and then it’s all ‘You’re fucking disgusting,’ or ‘Freak,’ or ‘Don’t touch me, you fa—‘“

“Stop!” Dustin shouts, white knuckling the armrest. “Eddie, stop. He’s not going to tell anyone. It’s gonna be okay. It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“It’s fine,” Dustin stresses. “Steve doesn’t care if you’re gay. He definitely doesn’t mind you flirting with him.”

“You don’t know that,” Eddie says. 

“Yeah I do.”

“How?”

There’s that deer in headlights look again. Then Dustin takes a deep breath, and his expression turns guilty. 

“I know you’re not supposed to tell people this,” he says, “but you’re freaking out really bad and I’m, like, 99% sure Steve thinks you already know.”

“Steve thinks I know what?”

Dustin tells him. 

Two hours later, he’s still laying on the floor in the trailer, looking up at the ceiling. 

Bisexual. Steve Harrington, the man Eddie’s always hailed as the patron saint of heterosexuality, likes men. 

Might like Eddie. 

“Are you flirting with me?” Eddie blurts out, and immediately tries to bolt. 

He runs face first into a wall and ends up on the ground, wishing the demobats had just killed him. 

Steve appears in his line of vision, standing over his sprawled body. Eddie is treated to a wonderful view, eyes moving from his long, athletic legs to his crotch to his chest and broad shoulders, and finally reaches his face. His very amused face. 

Eddie’s entire body lights on fire. 

“What the hell was that?” Steve asks, laughing. 

“Uh…”

“Wile E Coyote over here. Seriously, man, that was some Loony Toons shit. I’m embarrassed for you.”

“Oh my God, shut up,” he groans. “Just let me die.”

“No way in hell. Sorry, Munson, I put too much work into saving your flat ass to throw it away like that.” Steve grins, holding a hand out for Eddie to take. He ignores it, rolling over so Steve can’t see how red his face is. 

“My ass isn’t flat,” he mumbles into the carpet. 

“Oh, it is,” Steve says cheerfully, nudging said ass with his foot, because he’s a bastard. Eddie doesn’t know why he likes him so much. Everything he does is catastrophically bad for his continued survival. “It’s cute though. I like it.”

“Henderson said, uh, that you were…umm…maybeflirtingwithme?” Eddie finishes in a rush. 

“What?”

Steve’s face is open, automatically tilting his right ear towards Eddie. Eddie doesn’t know if he’s aware that’s something he does. Robin says it’s because of all the concussions, his left ear just isn’t what it used to be. 

Eddie sags, unable to lie to his wide-eyed confusion. “Dustin said you're flirting with me.”

Steve stares at him. 

Eddie fidgets under his incredulous gaze, growing more anxious by the minute. Oh God, Dustin was wrong. Dustin was wrong about everything. Steve probably doesn’t even actually like boys, Jesus. The whole thing is obviously a bust. Eddie needs to cut and run, maybe make some bullshit excuse about his uncle needing him home even though Steve knows Wayne’s working right now—

“You needed Henderson to tell you that?”

[charm-in-spades]

ⱠØØ₭ł₦₲ ₣ØⱤ ₮ⱤØɄ฿ⱠɆ: ₮ⱧɆ ₵ØɎØ₮Ɇ

₣₣ӾłV Ɽ₱  ĐłⱤɆ₵₮ØⱤɎ • ₵ⱤɎ₴₮₳Ⱡ Đ₳₮₳ ₵Ɇ₦₮ɆⱤ • ฿₳Ⱡ₥Ʉ₦₲

𝚁𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝-𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚖, 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚕𝚕-𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎'𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜.

QЦIᄃK ᄂIПKƧ

♠ Carrd ♠

LFRP: The Coyote

Layers

5 Senses

Word Associations

EMPIRE DOSSIER: G-Doc. Ask for IC use. 

ЩЯIƬIПGƧ 

Me vs Me - A Summary: His own worst enemy.

Deja Vu: A walking disaster with quick wits.

Training Grounds: The beast they made. 

Continuation: Revenge on Projects far and wide

Nightmares: A look into therapy.

ӨƬΉΣЯ BᄂӨGƧ -- A list of my other character hubs.

ALT: @the-wanted-man​:  wandering desperado / highwayman

ALT: @calamitouschaos​ :  Bad Father Figure + Horror Entity

ALT: @queens-guard-xiv​: Bare Knuckle Brawler. Exiled Knight.

ALT: @professional-problem-solver​ : Cleaner / Fixer

ALT: @tranquil-warrior​: ​samurai / combat yokai

ALT: @killer-instinct-xiv​: assassin / blade for hire

OOC: @audacious-unicorn​ - where I be on my bullshit

ӨЦƬ ӨF ᄃΛЯDƧ -- Just a small OOC note.

Firstly, be warned! There is a range of material on this blog including NSFW elements that may pop up from time to time. I try to keep it classy, and tag the more obscene images. I also try to tag trigger warnings. If something comes up that you might want tagged, just shoot me a DM. ERP is case-by-case and story basis only.  As a general heads up I have some health issues and ADHD so my time, focus, and energy can dwindle unexpectedly, and I may occasionally need to take breaks and recharge.

I’m always open for some plotting, and can be reached via  discord - just ping me here so I can send it in private.  I’m open to most RP here, discord, or in-game with no real preference for any.  If you want an easy way to hit me up, a tagged list of prompts is provided down below, or you can check Ric’s carrd for available hooks. Thanks!  - Teddy

Prompt List 

[icemacklin]

bonjour, je faisais un tri dans mon dossier de polices, si jamais ce post peut être utile à quelques personnes 

againts / famous / vogue / coyote / 

bettari / agraham / betofin / gamiela 

[thisblogisalsoboundforglory]

WHAT I HAVE BEEN READING LATELY

Kage Baker’s Company Series

In the Garden of Iden

Sky Coyote

Mendoza in Hollywood

The Graveyard Game

The Life of the World to Come

The Children of the Company

The Machine's Child

The Sons of Heaven

The Empress of Mars

Not Less than Gods

Nell Gwynne's On Land and At Sea

Black Projects, White Knights: The Company Dossiers

Gods and Pawns

In the Company of Thieves

Ø  Science Fiction written by a woman with Asperger’s. Wildly uneven. Main protagonist is female, but there are lots of POV characters, male and female.

Ø  Big ideas.

Ø  Lots of adventure, some action.

Ø   Small doses of humor.

 Neil Gaiman

Good Omens (with Sir Terry Pratchett)

Neverwhere

Stardust

American Gods

Anansi Boys

The Graveyard Book

The Ocean at the End of the Lane

Ø  Neil’s books are a road trip with Carl Jung, Joseph Campbell and a baggie full of sativa.

Ø  Ideas are incidental. The Milieu’s in charge.

Ø  Adventure happens whether you like it or not.

Ø   Cosmic humor. The joke’s on us.

 Connie Willis’s Oxford Time Travel Series

Firewatch

Doomsday Book

To Say Nothing of the Dog (and the novel that inspired it – Jerome K. Jerome’s Three Men in a Boat)

Blackout/All Clear

Assorted:

The Last of the Winnebagos

Ø  Connie loves her historical research. Blackout/All Clear actually lasts as long as the Blitz, but anything in the Oxford Time Travel series is worth reading. Doomsday Book reads like prophecy in retrospect.

Ø  One idea: Hi! This is the human condition! How fucking amazing is that?!?

Ø  Gut-punch adventure with extra consequences. Background action.

Ø   I’d have to say that Doomsday Book is the funniest book about the black death I’ve ever read, which isn’t saying much. To Say Nothing of the Dog is classic farce, though. Girl’s got range.

Neal Stephenson

Snow Crash (After the apocalypse, the world will be ruled by Home-Owners Associations. Be afraid.)

Cryptonomicon

Anathem

Seveneves

Ø  Neal writes big, undisciplined, unfocused books that keep unfolding in your mind for months after you’ve read them. He’s a very guy-type writer, in spite of a female protagonist or two. Seveneves, be warned, starts out brilliant and devolves into extreme meh.

Ø  Big. Fucking. Ideas.

Ø  Battles, crashes, fistfights, parachute jumps, nuclear powered motorcycles and extreme gardening action. Is there an MPAA acronym for that?

Ø   Humor dry enough to be garnished with two green olives on a stick.

  Christopher Moore

Pine Cove Series:

Practical Demonkeeping

The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove

The Stupidest Angel: A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror (Okay, yeah, Christmas. But Christmas with zombies, so that’s all right.)

Fluke (Not strictly Pine Cove, but in the same universe. Ever wonder why whales sing? They’re ordering Pastrami sandwiches. I’m not kidding.)

Death Merchant Chronicles:

A Dirty Job

Secondhand Souls (Best literary dogs this side of Jack London)

Coyote Blue (Kind of an outlier. Overlapping characters)

Shakespeare Series:

Fool

The Serpent of Venice

Shakespeare for Squirrels

Assorted:

Island of the Sequined Love Nun (Cargo cults with Pine Cove crossovers. I have a theory that the characters in this book are direct descendants of certain characters in Stephenson’s Cryptonomicon.)

Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal (So I have a favorite first-century wonder rabbi. Who doesn’t?)

Sacre Bleu

Noir

Ø  Not for the squeamish, the easily offended, or those who can’t lovingly embrace the fact that the human species is pretty much a bunch of idiots snatching at moments of grace.

Ø  No big ideas whatever. Barely any half-baked notions.

Ø  Enthusiastic geek adventure. Action as a last resort.

Ø   Nonstop funny from beginning to end.

 Ben Aaronovitch’s Rivers of London Series

Rivers of London

Moon Over Soho

Whispers Under Ground

Broken Homes

Foxglove Summer

The Hanging Tree

The Furthest Station

Lies Sleeping

The October Man

False Value

Tales From the Folly

Ø  Lean, self-deprecating police procedurals disguised as fantasy novels. Excellent writing.

Ø  These will not expand your mind. They might expand your Latin vocabulary.

Ø  Crisply described action, judiciously used. Whodunnit adventure. It’s all about good storytelling.

Ø  Generous servings of sly humor. Aaronovitch is a geek culture blueblood who drops so many inside jokes, there are websites devoted to indexing them.

  John Scalzi

Old Man’s War Series:

Old Man’s War

Questions for a Soldier

The Ghost Brigades

The Sagan Diary

The Last Colony

Zoe’s Tale

After the Coup

The Human Division

The End of All Things

Ø  Star Trek with realpolitik instead of optimism.

Ø  The Big Idea is that there’s nothing new under the sun. Nor over it.

Ø  Action-adventure final frontier saga with high stakes.

Ø  It’s funny when the characters are being funny, and precisely to the same degree that the character is funny.

Assorted:

The Dispatcher

Murder by Other Means

Redshirts (Star Trek, sideways, with occasional optimism)

Ø  Scalzi abandons (or skewers) his space-opera tendencies with these three little gems of speculative fiction. Scalzi’s gift is patience. He lets the scenario unfold like a striptease.

Ø  What-if thought experiments that jolt the brain like espresso shots.

Ø  Action/misadventure as necessary to accomplish the psychological special effects.

Ø  Redshirts is satire, so the humor is built-in, but it’s buried in the mix.

  David Wong/Jason Pargin

John Dies at the End

This Book is Full of Spiders: Seriously, Dude, Don’t Touch It

What the Hell Did I Just Read?

Ø  Pargin clearly starts his novels with a handful of arresting scenes and images, then looses the characters on an unsuspecting world to wander wither they will.

Ø  Ideas aren’t as big or obvious as Heinlein, but they are there to challenge all your assumptions in the same way that Heinlein’s were.

Ø  Classic action/adventure for anyone raised on Scooby-Doo.

Ø  Occasional gusts of humor in a climate that’s predominantly tongue-in-cheek.

 Jodi Taylor’s Chronicles of St. Mary’s Series

Just One Damned Thing After Another

The Very First Damned Thing

A Symphony of Echoes

When a Child is Born*

A Second Chance

Roman Holiday*

A Trail Through Time

Christmas Present*

No Time Like the Past

What Could Possible Go Wrong?

Ships and Stings and Wedding Rings*

Lies, Damned Lies and History

The Great St Mary’s Day Out*

My Name is Markham*

And the Rest is History

A Perfect Storm*

Christmas Past*

An Argumentation of Historians

The Battersea Barricades*

The Steam Pump Jump*

And Now for Something Completely Different*

Hope for the Best

When Did You Last See Your Father?*

Why Is Nothing Ever Simple*

Plan For The Worst

The Ordeal of the Haunted Room

Ø  The * denotes a short story or novella. Okay, try to imagine Indiana Jones as a smartassed redheaded woman with a time machine and a merry band of full contact historians. I love history, and I especially love history narrated by a woman who can kick T. Rex ass.

Ø  The ideas are toys, not themes. Soapy in spots.

Ø  Action! Adventure! More action! More adventure! Tea break. Action again!

Ø  Big, squishy dollops of snort-worthy stuff.

 Laurie R. King’s Mary Russell Series

The Beekeeper's Apprentice

A Monstrous Regiment of Women

A Letter of Mary

The Moor

Jerusalem

Justice Hall

The Game

Locked Rooms

The Language of Bees

The God of the Hive

Beekeeping for Beginners

Pirate King

Garment of Shadows

Dreaming Spies

The Marriage of Mary Russell

The Murder of Mary Russell

Mary Russell's War And Other Stories of Suspense

Island of the Mad

Riviera Gold

The Art of Detection (Strictly speaking, this is in the action!lesbian Detective Kate Martinelli series, but it crosses over to the Sherlock Holmes genre. If you’ve ever wondered how Holmes would deal with the transgendered, this is the book.)

Ø  Sherlock Holmes retires to Sussex, keeps bees, marries a nice Jewish girl who is smarter than he is and less than half his age and he’s mentored since she was fifteen in an extremely problematic power dynamic relationship that should repulse me but doesn’t, somehow, because this is the best Sherlock Holmes pastiche out there. Mary should have been a rabbi, but it is 1920, so she learns martial arts and becomes an international detective instead. Guest appearances by Conan Doyle, Kimball O’Hara, T.E. Lawrence, Cole Porter, and the Oxford Comma.

Ø  Nothing mind-expanding here, unless the levels of meta present in a fictional world that is about how the fictional world might not be as fictional as you thought come as a surprise to anyone in the era of tie-in books, films, tv, interactive social media and RPGs.

Ø  If these two geniuses can’t catch the bad guys with their dazzling brilliance, they will happily kick some ass. Adventure takes center stage and the action sequences are especially creative.

Ø  Amusement is afoot.

 Jasper Fforde’s Thursday Next Series

The Eyre Affair

Lost in a Good Book

The Well of Lost Plots

Something Rotten

First Among Sequels

One of Our Thursdays is Missing

The Woman Who Died a Lot

Ø  In a world where Librarians are revered and Shakespeare is more popular than the Beatles, someone has to facilitate the weekly anger-management sessions for the characters of Wuthering Heights, if only to keep them from killing each other before the novel actually ends. That someone is Thursday Next – Literature Cop.

Ø  Mind-bending enough to give Noam Chomsky material for another hundred years.

Ø  Adventure aplenty. Action? Even the punctuation will try to kill you.

Ø  This is a frolicsome look at humorous situations filled with funny people. Pretty much a full house in the laugh department.

 Sir Terry Pratchett’s Discworld Series/City Watch Arc

Guards! Guards!

Men at Arms

Feet of Clay

Jingo

The Fifth Elephant

Night Watch

Thud!

Snuff

Raising Steam

Ø  If this were a game of CLUE, the answer would be Niccolo Machiavelli in Narnia with a Monty Python. Everything you think you know about books with dragons and trolls and dwarves and wizards is expertly ripped to shreds and reassembled as social satire that can save your soul, even if it turns out you don’t really have one. Do not be fooled by the Tolkien chassis – there’s a Vonnegut-class engine at work.

Ø  Caution: Ideas in the Mirror Universe May be Larger Than They Appear

Ø  The City Watch arc has plenty of thrilling action sequences. Some other of the fifty-million Discworld novels have less. Every one of them is nonstop adventure. Most of the adventure, however, takes the form of characters desperately trying to avoid thrilling action sequences.

Ø  Funny? Even though I’ve read every book in the series at least ten times, I still have to make sure I have cold packs on hand in case I laugh so hard I rupture something.

[just-under-lucid]

Decipher

Okay. I’m calm enough to write, but I still have no idea how to process any of this. So I’ll write it down and I’ll come back later. It’s gonna be way more formal than I’ve ever written so I get everything. And maybe stay sane.

Situation: Determining what Mew has done.

Background(Mew):

Kinda my best friend

Big dork

eats batteries and lives

Has pretty violently tranqued a lucid

Real bad CHORUS stuff happened to him

Hates CHORUS

Can space out into “nothingness’ mode

DFY and Coyote’s attention

Background(Hikari):

asshole murderchild

Decently close friend somehow

CHORUS friend

really violent

Strong sense of protection over family

Instigates a lot

lied to me about Maddie getting a dossier (he really didn’t have to)

Blew up a situation I had under control

Claim: Mew is the one who killed the Sleeper in Barracks. 

Report(Hikari): 

Last night challenged Mew to a fight

Went in pushing him- said he didn’t have it in him to kill

Mew said he killed the sleeper, making killing Hikari nothing

Said Mew stabbed himself

Report(Mew): 

Came to me for help

Said Hikari ruined his shirt

Stab wound to the gut

Said he thought they were just roughhousing

Said he tased Hikari to get away

Said Hikari told him about our fights

Observations:

Hikari was crying

Scared 

Hasn’t emotionally manipulated before

Stab wound doesn’t match what usually happens in a Hikari fight

Usually small to moderate cuts- we both know stabs kill

Mew was nonchalant

Was an afterthought to tell me he’d been stabbed

Mew was upset about me fighting Hikari

Hikari was pissed

Inferences:

Hikari could have stabbed him in anger

He’s lied about doing things but not about emotions

Mew stabbing himself doesn’t seem out of character though

I’ve read enough that you suspect the quiet ones...

but Mew isn’t that violent from what i’ve seen

Current Conclusions:

Who the fuck knows

[traqueur2018]

Secure Belgique - Appels en fr

L’équipe, 

Petite modification qui est une simplification pour les ouvertures de dossiers vols en Belgique :

Le point ci-dessous n’est plus nécessaire uniquement d’un dépôt de plainte :

A retirer des documents nécessaires pour la Belgique :

« Il faut ajouter au dépôt de plainte un message du client indiquant, j’autorise la société Coyote à effectuer les recherches de mon Véhicule XXX ».

Le seul document nécessaire est le dépôt de plainte.

[ladye11e]

Deception pt 32

The conflict between the Assassins and the Templars is getting out of hand. Lies, deceit and subterfuge, now you must pick a side...

Sorry for the late update peeps, Tumblr was being it's usual crappy self and wouldn't post! 😣

Tagging @geekgoddess813 @sweet-flash @ermergerd517 @i-wontgivein @imakemyownblog 💕💕

Link to the full fic so far is Here.

Pressing your hand against the stitch in your side after running down thirty eight flights of stairs, you burst through the exit and slammed it shut, leaning up against it while the others pushed up a dumpster, blocking it entirely so the dozen odd guards couldn't continue pursuing you.

"Well, that didn't exactly go as planned," Desmond panted, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. "Hopefully we got what we needed though. (Name), you coming with?"

Nodding as you figured you had better tag along; so you didn't raise any suspicions, you caught his spare helmet when he chucked it at you, tugging it on and sliding onto the back of his bike. Quickly winding your arms around him, you burst out laughing and held on for dear life as he apparently thought it would be amusing to race Altaïr, when he pulled off with a wheelspin in his Camero.

Just managing to pry your white knuckles from around Desmond's waist when he pulled up to the Homestead in record time, you cursed under your breath before taking off your helmet, as you hadn't managed to nab the memory stick out of his hoodie pocket thanks to his Moto GP style riding.

"Are you sure you went fast enough Desmond? We aren't supposed to draw attention to ourselves, remember?" Altaïr chided as he got out of his car about a minute later.

"Says you who burned rubber on the way out. You're just a sore loser!"

Biting your lips so you didn't laugh at Altaïrs glaring, you followed them up to the manor and walked straight past the guards; as Desmond just waved them off, and down a corridor to the right, somewhere you had never been since the renovations.

"Can't tell at aaaall you're back, whats next, blood sample?" You scoffed, after passing the palm reader and retina scanner to the central security office.

"Given the circumstances, that might not be a bad idea (name). This way."

Taking in every little detail as you were led through the security room; that now looked somewhat similar to the facility hidden above the suit shop, your mouth dropped open in awe when you came to a large console at the end, standing behind Desmond when both the men took their seats at the desk respectively. Twelve state of the art screens were attached to the large framework in front of you, each one with a different purpose. Flight plans, a list of active members in the field, security footage of the night of the ball and suchlike, until they all went dark when Altair took the USB off Desmond and plugged it in, cracking his knuckles before typing at his usual slow and steady pace.

"Well, looks like it weren't a total loss, there's something on here at least."

You gripped the back of the chair when several folders popped up onto each of the screens; including the Warehouse 25 and video files, and they began opening them one by one, dismissing anything irrelevant like nondescript business-related matters, schedules or banking documents.

"So boys, you gonna tell me about this traitor then? I didn't have a chance to get filled in with everything going on."

Altaïr stopped what he was doing and spun his chair so he could face you; gesturing for Desmond to continue working on the files, his eyes flickering to your hands that were unconsciously on the verge of ripping off the back of Desmond's chair.

"Firstly, you can tell me why you are so, fidgety?"

Letting go and flexing your fingers when you realised what he was looking at, you scowled at the screen when Desmond had already reached the halfway point of his perusing, putting one hand on your hip while wafting the other at the monitors.

"Traaaaaaitooooor... Aren't you just a little bit pissed off?!"

"A valid point. We have noticed some wrongdoings for some time now, and the situation has become progressively obvious. The Templars always know what we are up to, and then there was the theft. I am assuming that you don't know, but after your mission in London, the money that you retrieved was stolen from the safe house mere days later?"

Raising your eyebrows and shaking your head, you glanced back at Desmond's progress and clenched your jaw to act as if you were annoyed at this information, running several scenarios in your head that would distract them enough to stop what they were doing, but none of them seemed feasible at this moment in time.

"No, I didn't. That's not all you've got to go on, surely?"

"Of course not," Altaïr grumbled irritably, leaning over the desk to pull over a thick file and flicking it open. "We had a contact at Templar headquarters, until recently. She informed one of our members that she heard Kenway and Lee conversing, well more, arguing, about the risks of having an assassin spy. That is why we were there, to see if Kenway kept any information on this defector. I'm assuming you remember Arno?"

"Vaguely, one of your friends that came over from Europe last year?" You mumbled, your attention almost entirely focused on where Desmond was one away from opening the Warehouse folder.

"Yes. He relocated to over here because he was seeing a woman, who just happened to turn out to be a Templar. Elise, I think he said her name was, one of Kenways assistants. Well, before they broke up, she was the one who told him this information, and of course, Arno contacted us straight away."

Your eyes widened when he passed you the folder; which was a dossier on the apparent informant, your gaze settling on the photograph of the redhead that you had a slight encounter with earlier today, wishing you had done more than nearly snapped her finger off now.

"Hey, there's a thought! How about I set you up with Arno? I know you like them tall, dark and foreign."

Slapping Desmond on the arm with a scoff when he spun around and wiggled his eyebrows at you, you handed the folder back to Altair and chose to reveal your 'relationship', as if anything, it would keep him distracted for just a little while longer.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I've already got someone. Thanks though."

"What? Who?! Since when? It's not that bloke from before, is it??"

"It is actually," you huffed when he frowned at you in disapproval. "Bit of crossed wires after all that, it wasn't him that was dicking about. Found out that it was actually his friend I caught doing the dirty."

"That is enough of this idle chatter you two. We came here to gather intelligence, not to discuss our personal lives."

Pulling a face behind Altaïr's back and mumbling jealous cos you haven't got one; which Desmond chuckled at before turning back around and carrying on with the computer, you lent over his shoulder when he finally opened the warehouse folder, screwing up your nose when it was nothing but list upon list of eleven digit numbers and letters.

"What the... Those look like the numbers of our shipping containers down at the docks?!"

Your eyes didn't once leave the screen as Desmond scrolled through the list, familiarity swarming through you as he went past a sectioned off block, placing where you had seen them before a split second later. They were from the message William Johnson had asked you to give to Haytham, urgently. Before you had any chance to ponder it further, all of the screens jumped about in a flash of green and yellow before going black, loud trumpet fanfare ringing through the speakers. You quickly bit your lips together, so you didn't laugh when Woody Woodpecker filled the monitors, but you failed to keep your composure when Wile E. Coyote followed, sitting on an Acme rocket with a devious grin before lighting it up and splatting himself against the screen.

"You find this amusing (name)?!"

Wincing when Altaïr glared at you as if you had just insulted his mother, you cleared your throat and lowered your head ashamed, but still grit your teeth together with a smirk when Elmer Fudd crept on the screen and pretended he had a Tommy gun and, was shooting towards you.

"No, sir. Not the situation, I was laughing at the cartoons. Don't you like them?"

"No. I do not. Only a weak mind would find these funny," he scolded while throwing Desmond a filthy look, who was now staring at the Tv's and grinning. "Didn't you run the antivirus software??"

"Hey, don't you blame me for this! Of course I did, if you don't trust me, you can do it yourself next time."

Altaïr waved his hand irritably before picking up another report; thinner this time, eyeing you up dubiously before handing it to you.

"As I was saying before this disaster, Arno contacted us straight away, and also helped us compile a theory. We believe that the person we are looking for had to be at both theft locations, which narrows the pool down significantly."

Flicking through the paperwork and reading it at your usual rapid speed, you trailed your finger down the sheet when you came across a list of the people that were in your group in London, all of the names crossed out, apart from three. Henrys, Jacobs, and your own.

"As you can see we have narrowed it down to less than a handful of people, who had the opportunity to contact the Templars, due to a, disappearance during each event. I have my own idea of who it could be."

You rolled your tongue in your cheek as you carried on reading times and dates of when you were all unaccounted for, until you glanced up through your eyelashes to him staring at you blankly.

"Y-you think it's m-"

"Henry Green."

Dropping the file on the floor and wholly gobsmacked for a moment, you fell to your knees so you could pick up all of the documents that were now scattered about, bursting out into hysterics when you snatched up several surveillance photographs from London.

"Henry?! Really? You've gotta be kidding," You blurted when you finally managed to calm yourself down slightly and catch your breath. "He's the last person I'd suspect, the man doesn't have a devious bone in his body!"

"Do you have another suggestion then?"

Shaking your head quickly as his eyes narrowed and you felt like you were under a microscope, you finished stuffing all of the papers back into the folder and handed it back, now rather eager to get out of here as soon as humanly possible.

"No, sir. But I do think you're wrong. Why him?"

"He cannot account for his whereabouts for a portion of the ball for starters, while you were dancing I believe? And then there is the fact he has access to all of our intelligence, plus numerous contacts and allies all over the world. It was also he that suggested that specific safe house in Whitechapel. All of the evidence is against him. Desmond, fix this. Now. Or so help me I'll have you scrubbing toilets for the next week."

Satisfied you were in the clear for now, you slowly began inching your way towards the door as it looked like the men were about to get into a full blown argument; and you didn't want to be caught in the middle, freezing to the spot when they both suddenly stopped mid-sentence and turned to face you as soon as you turned the door handle.

"Where are you going?!" They both chanted simultaneously, Altaïr irritably and Desmond pleading.

"Umm, home? Not exactly much I can do here as it looks like a virus has wiped what we've stolen, and it is gone three in the morning."

"I'll give you a lift."

You didn't even have a chance to reply before Desmond jumped up out of his chair and grabbed you by the arm, almost giving you whiplash as he dragged you out of the manor in his haste to get away from his boss.

As soon as you made it to your apartment, you ran inside and slammed the door behind you, slumping down it and rubbing your face in your hands vigorously. This was all going so very wrong, and there was not a chance in hell that you would let Henry take the fall for this. Pulling out your phone and seeing that it was nearly eight in the morning in London, you stared at the wall after going through your contacts list, trying to think of what you could say as the ringing continued in your ear.

This is the voicemail of Henry Green. If you would be so kind, please leave a message after the beep.

Oh for fuck's sake .... "Henry! You need to call me back asap! It's urgent!"

Hanging up your phone and dropping it down on the floor next to you, you banged your head on the door out of habit more than anything else, wincing when you jumped and did it again; harder this time, as your ringtone blared in the air.

"Henry?!"

"(Name), what's the matter? Are you in trouble??"

"I'll explain in a minute, you need to answer me something first. Achilles birthday, you ran off for a bit while I was dancing? Where did you go??"

You rubbed your temples when only silence returned, but you knew he was still there as you could hear him breathing down the line.

"Henry. Come on, this is important!"

"Okay. I was with Jacob, trying to calm him down when you went off with Sergei. His temper was through the roof, and I was afraid he was going to do something stupid. Well, more stupid than normal anyway. What does it matter?"

"Can anyone else vouch for you?"

"I don't think so, other than Jacob. Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Great. The only person who could help dig Henry out of this just happened to be the one other that was being suspected of treason. You didn't care about yourself anymore, your only goal was to get Henry's name cleared as this was all of your fault in the first place.

"You're being investigated as a potential traitor, working with the Templars."

Holding your phone away from your ear when he began yelling down it; saying that was absurd and he would never betray anyone, you pressed the loudspeaker button when you couldn't get a word in edgeways, and to save your eardrum from exploding.

"Henry... Henry! HENRY! Will you shut up for one damned second!! Thank you." You grumbled when he finally stopped being hysterical.

"I know it's not you, I told them as much. It's all a big misunderstanding okay? Right, now here's what we're gonna do..."

Dragging yourself up off the floor and stomping over to your kitchen, you flicked the kettle on, to prepare yourself for yet another sleepless night.

[celine-mediatouk]

"Klimt" de CORNETTE (scénariste) et MARC-RENIER (dessinateur).

Vienne, 1907, Gustav Klimt...

          ...rend visite aux époux Bloch-Bauer. Adèle et Ferdinand l'ont toujours soutenu dans son art, même quand l'ensemble de la bonne société viennoise se dressait contre lui. Un jour, Ferdinand demande à Gustav de peindre sa femme.

               Ici sont contées quelques années de la vie de Klimt et  la création de ce tableau mondialement connu qu'est le "Portrait d'Adèle Bloch-Bauer". Le récit n'est pas clair. J'ai dû le relire deux fois pour me rendre compte que Klimt avait peint ce tableau 6 ans après sa rencontre avec Adèle. Ce temps là n'est ponctué que d'évènements anecdotiques et de cauchemars. Les évènements du quotidien (les aventures de ses modèles et d'un chat) qui y sont racontés figurent là uniquement pour marquer sa relation aux femmes (sa mère, son épouse, ses modèles) toutes plutôt conciliantes avec le peintre.

Ses cauchemars qui s'étalent apparemment tout au long de cette période et qui seraient la source de sa recherche d'inspiration ne sont le prétexte qu'à quelques belles cases, mais c'est sans fond. A la relecture, on réalise qu'on peut faire sans ces évocations. En bref, j'en ai appris plus sur Klimt et son œuvre dans son époque en lisant le dossier à la fin qu'en lisant la BD. Dommage !

Edition Glénat. Collection Les grands peintres. 14.50 €.

Bibliographie partielle de Jean-Luc CORNETTE : “Enfants terribles” / “Coyote mauve” (album) / “Robert” / “Red river hotel” / “Les passe-murailles”/ “Jhen”, etc...

Bibliographie partielle de MARC-RENIER : “Black hills” / “Melmoth” / “La masque de fer”, etc,...

(Céline Pichardie, médiathèque de Bures sur Yvette)

[vigilan7e]

PINNED POST. — hi, im coyote (they/them, 25) !! welcome to my rp blog for aiden pearce from watch_dogs trilogy. a couple of useful links: 

RULES. DOSSIER. CARRD.

a quick list of verses: wd 1 / wd 2 / wd: legion / cp2077 / tlou / mass effect .

[blogueericdescarries]

Mustang story...et autres...

Le 5 août 2021

J’ai (encore) eu l’opportunité de conduire une Mustang pendant toute une semaine il n’y a pas si longtemps. Ceux qui suivent ce blogue régulièrement se rappelleront certainement que j’ai eu plusieurs Mustang comme voiture de presse au cours de ma carrière et plus encore dernièrement. Comment cela se fait-Il? C’est tout simplement que Ford lance diverses versions de cette voiture que l’on a longtemps connu comme «pony car» (vous comprendrez que le terme «pony» est dérivé de la marque Mustang). Et plus encore depuis les dernières années. Encore là, tout récemment, nous avons eu droit à des Mustang Bullitt, des Mustang Shelby, des GT et tout récemment des Mach One et des California Special. Sans parler des toutes nouvelles Mach E électriques (qui seraient, selon Auto Week, la voiture la plus vendue en Norvège au moment d’écrire ces lignes)…

 Les plus récentes versions de Mustang, la Mach One (grise) et la California Special (blanche). Remarquez la similitude de nouveau déflecteur avant sous le pare-chocs. (Photo Éric Descarries)

Mais pourquoi tant de Mustang et peu, sinon pas de Camaro? Je trouve cela bizarre moi aussi. Ce qui est malheureux, c’est que General Motors du Canada ne nous propose pas de Camaro (la dernière que j’ai conduite remonte à septembre 2019 , une RS 1LE à quatre cylindres turbocompressé). Depuis ce temps…silence radio! Il est vrai que la Camaro ne se vend plus comme avant alors que même les Challenger se vendent plus. Mais, tout comme c’en est le cas pour la Mustang et même la Challenger (que FCA- Stellantis me propose régulièrement), Chevrolet nous dévoile aussi certaines nouvelles variantes de la sa Camaro…Alors, pourquoi n’y en a-t-il pas dans son parc de voitures de presse?

Alors, je reviens à la GT California Special que j’ai eue la semaine dernière. Les toutes premières California Special ont d’abord vu le jour en février 1968 chez quelques concessionnaires Ford de ce célèbre état américain alors que la fièvre des «pony cars» et des «muscle cars» battait son plein. Bien entendu, cette auto (en version coupé seulement) dont la différence majeure n’était que des décorations extérieures à la Shelby (prises d’air sur le côté, feux de la Thunderbird, des phares de route et plusieurs décalques) n’était disponible d’abord qu’en Californie puis en très petit nombre sur la Côte Ouest. Il était possible de la commander avec n’importe laquelle motorisation (du six en ligne au 428 avec boîte automatique ou manuelle) alors que moins de 5000 unités ont été produites. Aujourd’hui, une California Special originale peut commander un prix assez élevé sur le marché des «anciennes».

 Les California Special au travers le temps. (Photo Ford)

Ford a ravivé l’option California Special en 2007 (jusqu’à 2009) mais cette fois, elle était basée sur une GT. L’option est revenue de 2011 à 2014 puis en 2016 et 2017, toujours sur une version à toit fuyant de la GT ou en cabriolet. La toute dernière version de California Special est toujours basée sur une GT. Donc, sa mécanique demeure un ensemble de composantes «muscle car» incluant un V8 Coyote de 5,0 litres qui fait rien de moins que 460 chevaux et 420 livres-pied de couple. Cet ensemble dirige sa puissance aux roues arrière qui sont combinées à une suspension indépendante qui a alourdi la Mustang mais qui lui a donné une tenue de route unique pour un véhicule de ce gabarit. Notons, outre les freins plus puissants, des pneus Pirelli plus mordants qui aident la Mustang GT à mieux mordre sur le pavé.

 La Mustang GT California Special dont il est question ici. (Photo Éric Descarries)

La même California Special vue de l’arrière. Remarquez l’ornement l’identifiant au bas du capot du coffre à droite. (Photo Éric Descarries)

L’intérieur de cette Américaine on ne peut plus typique est vaste et accueillant. Les très longues portières ouvrent facilement pour accueillir les passagers d’avant (comparativement à plusieurs européennes souvent vantées, l’accès à l’habitacle de la Mustang est tellement plus facile que celui des Camaro, par exemple). Un simple déclic derrière le dossier des sièges baquets fait basculer ce dossier facilitant l’accès aux places arrière (surtout avec la capote rabaissée). Si les places avant sont largement dégagées, celles d’arrière sont plus serrées pour les adultes mais très accueillantes pour les enfants. (C’est ici, comme je l’ai déjà noté dans le passé, que la Mustang est plus plaisante pour les enfants que sa concurrente la Camaro car les sièges d’arrière sont plus élevés permettant aux tout petits de mieux voir à l’extérieur. Le compartiment arrière de la Challenger est encore plus spacieux mais l’auto n’existe pas en cabriolet).

 Le tableau de bord de la California Special est semblable à celui d’une GT. (Photo Éric Descarries)

 Détails du tableau de bord de la California Special. Remarquez qu’à la radio, on y jouait un classique des Beach Boys…tout-à-fait approprié pour la California Special ! (Photo Éric Descarries)

 Les places arrière ne sont pas destinées à de grands passagers. Mais les enfants y seront relativement à l’aise! (Photo Éric Descarries)

 Le coffre de la Mustang m’a toujours impressionné! Mais le subwoofer (à droite dans le fond) vient lui voler de la place! (Photo Éric Descarries)

 Surprise! Il y a même un pneu de secours dans le coffre! (Photo Éric Descarries)

Comme par le passé, je reviens au coffre de la Mustang qui m’impressionne par ses dimensions relativement utiles. J’y ai souvent logé plusieurs valises et accessoires de plage sans me plaindre. Sauf que si l’on choisit l’option des haut-parleurs haut de gamme Bose, on se fait «voler» de la place par l’imposant «subwoofer» dans le coin arrière droite de la malle!

En ce qui a trait à la finition California Special, ce qui la distingue des GT, c’est un intérieur plus élaboré avec une sellerie spécifique avec l’inscription California Special dans le cuir des sièges d’avant et une ornementation unique nous rappelant la nomenclature du modèle.

Sur la route

La California Special est surtout une GT avec une finition unique. Par conséquent, son comportement routier est celui d’une GT selon les réglages choisis par le conducteur. En effet, lorsqu’on se glisse derrière le volant, on y note plusieurs commutateurs dont l’un d’entre eux est frappé du petit cheval en course. En pressant sur celui-ci, il est possible de changer plusieurs réglages dont celui des échappements (de Normal à Sport à Silencieux à Course). Car les échappements peuvent être bruyants (c’est comme cela que je les aime…c’est un «pony car» après tout!) alors que le mode Silencieux plaira plus à vos voisins de la banlieue tôt le matin au démarrage. Les autres réglages peuvent rendre la direction plus ferme ou encore changer la couleur de l’instrumentation du tableau de bord. Il y a tant de réglages…incluant des réglages pour utiliser l’auto en piste de course ou d’accélération (auriez-vous le courage de l’essayer dans de telles circonstances?)

Malgré tout, la California Special est toujours une GT. Avec la boîte manuelle, il faut savoir doser l’embrayage. Ma femme n’a jamais aimé que je joue de l’accélérateur pour débrayer…jusqu’à ce qu’elle conduise une telle auto. Malgré toute la docilité d’un tel V8, il faut savoir trouver le bon régime pour mâter le V8 Coyote. Toutefois, une fois maîtrisé, celui-ci est «doux comme un agneau». Cependant le mordu de performance appréciera ce V8 lorsqu’il est sollicité. Spécifions ici qu’il me faudrait un chapitre complet pour expliquer les divers modes de conduite et surtout Sport et Race qui permettent de mieux exploiter presque manuellement le potentiel de cette auto. Toutefois, pour en tirer le maximum, il me faudrait un circuit routier et une piste d’accélération…

 Ce tout récent V8 (surnommé Coyote) n’a rien à voir avec le 5,0 litres (302) des premières Mustang mais on ne peut le voir, le moteur étant bien enfoui dans son compartiment. Notez la barre de renforcement des tours de suspension, un article qui existait déjà en 1968! (Photo Éric Descarries)

Je ne suis pas jeune. Mais, j’ai vécu cette époque des «pony cars » et des «muscle cars». Mes jeunes frères avaient des Mustang avec des V8 «small block» et «big block». Moi, je préférais des autos plus imposantes ou encore mes «indécrottables» Ranchero (autos-pick-up, j’en ai eu trois!). J’ai donc vécu l’époque de ces Américaines avec de puissants V8 mais peu de puissance de freinage ou encore de précision de direction. Aujourd’hui, je possède toujours un roadster Cobra (une réplique) de cette époque avec freins et direction sans assistance (ce qui fait réagir mon fils d’une trentaine d’années qui me demande comment nous faisons à l’époque pour conduire de tels monstres…ce qu’il a tout de même aimé!). Mais alors, les Mustang modernes sont tellement plus dociles et maîtrisables! Ce ne sont certes plus les Mustang d’autrefois! Et pourtant, ces dernières sont toujours utilisées dans des courses de voitures d’antan (Vintages) où elles sont toujours gagnantes! C’est fou comment elles ont évolué! En passant, saviez-vous que la Mustang est la voiture sport la plus vendue au monde? Ses ventes dépassent même celles des Porsche en Allemagne!

 En pressant la commande avec l’ornement du petit cheval sur le volant, on peut obtenir ces «options» qui changeront l’instrumentation de la California Special en celle de bolide de course…c’est fou comment l’électronique a modifié le monde de l’automobile! (Photo Éric Descarries)

Seule note négative, il n’est plus possible d’obtenir une Mustang à un prix «abordable» de nos jours. La Mustang n’est plus proposée en version dénudée avec un gros moteur. Même la plus modeste des Mustang d’aujourd’hui est un véhicule de luxe! Dans le cas de la California Special à boîte manuelle, passer du point mort à 100 km/h peut se faire en moins de cinq secondes (on peut le vérifier avec la commande au tableau de bord, pas besoin d’un chronomètre) ce qui est impressionnant pour une auto de presque 4000 livres. Sa tenue de route est tout simplement rassurante (les gros pneus Pirelli y sont pour quelque chose) en autant que l’on ne se prenne pas pour un Gilles Villeneuve sur les routes publiques. Oh! Il y a toujours un petit tremblement dans la structure sur les (si superbement entretenues) routes du Québec mais c’est quand même acceptable. La vitesse maximale? Selon le constructeur, ce serait autour des 250 km/h! Mais veut-on vraiment en arriver là? J’ai préféré profiter de cette légendaire auto, la capote rabaissée (c’est si facile de l’abaisser avec une simple commande au cadre du pare-brise!) avec la musique des Beach Boys (XM Sirius 105) sortant des haut-parleurs B&O…Cependant, est-ce vraiment une auto pour nos hivers? Pas nécessairement quoique j’ai déjà utilisé un coupé GT en plein hiver alors que la voiture était équipée de pneus Pirelli Sottozero qui la rendaient plus sûre. Mais, nous, les plus vieux, nous utilisions des Mustang en hiver durant les années soixante avec de vulgaires «snow grips» qu’à l’arrière. Et ça fonctionnait!

Sérieusement, c’est toujours agréable pour un amateur de voitures comme moi de mettre la main sur une Mustang, surtout une GT California Special. Ce qui est le plus impressionnant, c’est qu’il n’y a pas beaucoup de voitures de ce genre avec autant de puissance et de comportement routier sûr à ce prix (surtout à ce prix !) disponible sur le marché de l’auto.

Oh! Ce prix? Un cabriolet Mustang GT de base commence à 54 460 $. Dans le cas de ma voiture d’essai, il faut lui ajouter l’ensemble 401 A (régulateur de vitesse automatique adaptatif, GPS, etc…) de 2200 $, l’ensemble décoratif California Special de 2500 $, les soupapes d’échappement actives de 1000 $, le chauffe-moteur d’hiver de 150 $, le pneu de secours de 200 $, la radio haut de gamme de 1000 $, la taxe fédérale du climatiseur de 100 $ et les frais de transport et préparation de 1800 $ (et quelques autres petites dépenses supplémentaires) et on en arrive à un total de 63 440 $ …plus taxes.

Oh! Et la consommation? Si l’ordinateur de bord avait calculé ma consommation moyenne de la semaine (50-50 autoroute-ville) à 14,1 l./100 km, mes calculs à la pompe ont plutôt été de 15,4 l./100 km. Ce qui vous semble énorme est quand même raisonnable pour une si grande sportive de plus de 450 chevaux, n’est-ce pas?

L’arrivée de la Mustang Mach E électrique risque de jeter un peu d’ombre sur les Mustang à moteur à combustion interne. Toutefois, je crois qu’il restera encore suffisamment de mordus de la voiture à moteur V8 pour que cette maintenant légendaire voiture survive encore une dizaine, que dis-je, une vingtaine d’années!

Maudit sauvage!

J’ai vu, de mes yeux vu, un conducteur de BMW X5 M faire marche arrière en manœuvre de stationnement sur la rue Jean-Talon le week-end dernier et non seulement s’appuyer sur le pare-chocs d’une (vénérable) Honda Civic mais même la pousser pour pouvoir se dégager et reprendre la route. Jusqu’ici, rien d’alarmant. Sauf que le «chic» monsieur avait une attache de remorque de type «heavy duty» à l’arrière de son X5 et que cet accessoire a laissé toute une marque sur le pare-chocs de la petite auto. J’ai frappé sur la carrosserie du X5 et le conducteur en est sorti. Je lui ai signalé qu’il avait fait des dommages sur la Civic. Il m’a répondu qu’il ne s’était aperçu de rien! (Faut-il croire que les X5 M, un véhicule neuf sûrement très «cheap» n’a pas de caméra de marche arrière…?). Je lui ai suggéré de laisser sa carte d’affaire dans le pare-brise de la Civic (il devait sûrement en avoir une) mais il a remonté dans sa voiture sans dire un mot et il est reparti (j’ai toujours son numéro de plaque). Coudon! À quoi sert notre technologie moderne payée si cher sur nos véhicules si l’on s’en fout! Ce n’était pas une Civic récente mais elle me semblait bien entretenue. Quelle déception de voir un propriétaire de voiture de luxe ne pas avoir plus de respect pour des gens moins fortuné! Je vous laisse le soin d’utiliser l’adjectif que vous voulez pour le «chauffeur» du BMW. J’ai le mien!

Un Explorer notable!

 Selon son proprio, il lui aura coûté quelque 4000 $ pour faire «wrapper» son Explorer. (Photo Éric Descarries)

Vu dans un petit centre commercial de Laval, un VUS Ford Explorer «wrappé» pour imiter une vieille voiture toute rouillée! Son propriétaire, un tatoueur local, m’a dit qu’ainsi, il «avait moins peur de se le faire voler»! Original, n’est-ce pas?

Adieu Avalon et NSX!

Nouvelle de dernière heure, selon Automotive News, Toyota aurait l’intention d’arrêter la production de la grande berline Avalon durant les prochains mois. Ce modèle se rapprocherait trop des Camry les plus luxueuses (ce qui fait qu’il ne se vend plus!).

Toujours selon Automotive News, 2022 serait la dernière année de production de la superbe Acura NSX…

Et, finalement, pas de Salon de New York!

Enfin, les organisateurs du Salon international de l’auto de New York viennent d’annoncer que celui-ci, qui a été déplacé d’avril à la troisième semaine d’août, sera finalement annulé (blâmer le reprise de la Covid-19!). On ne s’attendait pas à de nombreux dévoilements mais il y avait au programme celui du nouveau coupé Z de Nissan, de la version 4xe de la Grand Cherokee, de la nouvelle Subaru WRX et de l’Elantra en version N…

[crueltymade]

❛  --- wait ,   i   can   still   FIGHT !!!  ❜

indie selective INFINITE from SONIC FORCES. adored by coyote. multiship && multiverse. oc and crossover friendly. NOT spoiler free. est. 11.11.17

home.   ask.   dossier.   rules.   verses.   nav.

[giftedteasers]

DOSSIER NUMBER: A-0901 ALSO KNOWN AS: HECATE

❝ Fire in your smile and a trick on your fingertips. Snow crunching beneath winter boots and coyotes howling somewhere in the distance. City lights as a place called home. Using the moon and stars as your guide. Ice in your blood but a smile in your heart. Laughter hard won and cruelly lost. Fluorescent lights and bruises in the crook of an elbow. The stale taste of lost freedom. 

A goddess of a girl turned into a ghost, you remember your life like some kind of distant memory and you feel like you’re just hoping between cages. Who were you before the world told you who you must become? Are monsters born or are monsters made?