#times it IS very black and white while others it’s wholly ? Shades of grey

[heireign]

MORALITY ALIGNMENT TEST — YOU ARE: LAWFUL GOOD.

people who are lawful good believe that an orderly, strong society with a moral government can work to make life better for the great majority of the people. when the laws are fair and the people respect them and try to help one another, humanity as a whole prospers. therefore, people who are lawful good strive for a social order that will bring the greatest benefit to everyone and cause the least harm. lawful good personalities may sometimes find themselves faced with the dilemma of whether to obey the law or do good when the two conflict. for example, when upholding the law of the land would lead to unfairness or harm or when there is a conflict between two orders of what is right, such as between the ways of their community and the law of the government.

tagged by: taken from @lightburnsyou 🫶

tagging: @lcerys , @daekarys , @lenfear , @stormbcrn , @ga1adriel , @greydeath , @maidmyth and @sanctamater

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

VISIONS IN THE SNOW

Good Evening All! I have a new one-shot that was inspired by the horrific weather that recently swept across the U.S. It caused so much grief, suffering to so many people. I hope this would bring a smile to some faces. This was written with one particular person in mind (and you know who you are) and I’m glad you like it.

Thanks as always to @scubalass for the read through. Your suggestions were, as always, spot on. It made the final story so much better.

Status of Edinburgh to Boston: There is progress but it is painfully slow. There are two characters that are essential to this chapter whose voice I do not hear as well as I do Jamie and Claire. I write something, then I delete it and I do the same thing over and over. We will come to an understanding at some point so dinna fash. There will be A/N at the end to explain words or terms.

Without further delay I give you Visions in the Snow.

Here goes nothing:

VISIONS IN THE SNOW

February 1968  - Boston

The responsibility for hosting this week’s poker game fell to Joe Abernathy.  He took his duties in this regard very seriously. It was the way the surgeons decompressed after a week of stressful surgical procedures and this week was no exception. 

“It must have been a full moon,” he thought. Motor vehicle accidents, stabbings, gunshot wounds, volvulus, a ruptured esophagus, the works. It was during these times that he dearly missed his friend. Claire. He cast his glance over to the card table set with one extra place, Claire’s place. On the seat was her green visor that she wore when she played poker with the boys. It sat in repose like a memorial to a fallen comrade.

Silly thing! She believed wearing it masked her glass face.  Nothing could be further from the truth, but none of her colleagues had the heart to tell her. They all knew what Claire Randall was thinking. So much so, they often let her win which caused her to think she was good at playing poker.

He glanced around the room and saw that everything was in readiness for the evening. The sideboard groaned beneath the bounty of food, snacks, and brews.  

Outside, the wind blew fiercely rattling the windows drawing his attention. Joe looked out the window watching the two front trees bowing to the brute force of nature. Their skeletal fingers scraped at the roof almost as if trying to gain entry. It had been snowing for the last six hours with no sign of it letting up. He had considered canceling the game but a majority of his colleagues soundly vetoed that idea. Only Callahan and Peterson dissented. Callahan’s wife would kill him if he left her alone to deal with their six small ones while he went to play poker. Peterson lived thirty miles away. The remaining players all lived a short walking distance from his home, on Doctors Row. It was so-called because many of the physicians who worked at the hospital lived on the same street.  These surgeons were gambling men betting they had enough time for some comradery, hands, and beers before the brunt of the storm arrived.   

For a Boston snowstorm, it hadn’t accumulated very much. Yet. Regardless, it would not hamper these hardened surgeons accustomed to driving through Boston’s worst to get to the hospital. Without warning, the storm picked up intensity driving the snow hard enough to erase the landscape before him. Amid the squall, a hazy light glowed like the high beams of headlights in the snow. A wraithlike figure emerged from its center. Joe wasn’t able to make out any of its features. Man? Woman? He wasn’t sure. But one thing was for sure, it was headed directly toward his house. 

Joe leaned closer trying to see if the person was in distress as they were caught out in the snow. Maybe they had abandoned their car and were seeking help.  His warm breath met the cold pane fogging it, wholly obscuring his view.  Using his shirt sleeve, he wiped away the condensation hoping to improve his ability to see. As the person drew closer, it became apparent that it was a young woman and her attire was totally inappropriate for the weather. She wore a long dress whose hem floated across the snow. It looked like a green and black plaid and a white scarf crossed her neck to cover her bosom. Her hair was dark, curly, piled high on her head, and tendrils framing her face. She looked a lot like… It couldn’t be, could it? She came closer. So close that he could see her eyes. Eyes the color of a fine whisky. Claire? Claire! How? She had left for Scotland, disappearing into the past, to find her true love.

Anxiety flowed through him. He needed to speak with the woman. He needed to know if it truly was Claire. Joe tried to open the window, but it wouldn’t budge. The frame had swollen from the moisture, he thought. He rapped on the window calling her name, but she paid no heed.

Claire was running and laughing bright and merry. Stopping suddenly, she turned and extended a hand into the haze. A man appeared laughing and chased after her. He was a big son of a bitch standing at least six feet four inches and as big as a brick…Well, he was big. He had a mop of red hair, but to simply say red would deny the richness of the color. It was a curly thick mosaic of cinnamon, auburn, gold, and cinnabar.  And his eyes were the deepest blue Joe had ever seen. The man was kitted out in traditional highland garb right down to the sword strapped to his side. Reaching her, the young man made a courtly bow. He straightened, then took her hand to bestow a kiss. A moment later, he lifted and spun her around. She tossed her head back and peals of joyous laughter rang through the air. He set her down gently settling his hands on the swell of her hips. His eyes danced with love as he lowered his head to kiss her most thoroughly. Joe felt his cheeks burn as he watched such intimacy. 

Time advanced in front of him. He became witness to a lifetime, to a marriage, to the bonds of love that could not be broken. The vision changed from the blush of first love through to a life fully lived.  He wept at their trials, tribulations, and heartbreak. And he reveled in their accomplishments, triumphs, and joys. But through all their hardships, and there were many, their love for each other never wavered, never changed. 

The final event showed the couple had aged. The woman, Claire, had streaks of grey in her hair while the man’s hair had lightened. They stood atop a ridge overlooking some land. The man had his arm securely around her waist pulling her protectively close to him. Claire stood on her tiptoes wrapping her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a fiery kiss. She nodded her head and started to pull him toward a cabin. He scooped her up and carried her across the threshold kicking the door shut. 

As the vision faded back into the vapor as a voice called out, “I am happy Joe. I found my Jamie.”

Resting his head against the cold pane of glass provided a sense of comfort to his unsettled mind and spirit. Uncertainty gripped him as he grappled to understand what happened. Had this been a dream? Or a hallucination? Or had the fabric of time somehow been rent apart? He shook himself, much like a dog dispelling the rain from its coat, hoping to lift his state of bewilderment. 

Psssst, pssst, ssssssss! The homely sound of the radiator hissing brought him back to himself and away from his ruminations.

Mercilessly, the wind blew about the house ferociously shaking the windowpanes in their frames then suddenly died away. Out of curiosity, Joe tried to open the window. This time it slid open with ease. The blinding snow stopped returning to light flurries. As he turned to walk away from the window, he noticed the clock on the mantel. It was one minute later than when he last looked at it. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” he muttered.

Joe walked over to Claire’s chair and picked up the visor cradling it to his chest,  “Wherever you are Claire, I’m glad you’re happy and you found your Jamie. Jamie, if you can hear me, take good care of our girl.”

With that, the doorbell rang and Joe went to greet his guests.

                                                        *************

Claire woke with a start bringing Jamie to instant alertness. He grabbed the pistol he kept by his bedside in preparation for any threat. Seeing none, he turned to look at Claire. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

“Sassenach, what’s amiss? Are ye alright?”

“I dreamt...I dreamt I was back in Boston going to play poker with the other surgeons. It was our regular night to play. The game was at Joe’s house and there was this blizzard.”

“Poker? What kind of game do ye play with a poker?” he was afraid to ask. Claire had told him so many peculiar stories about her time that he thought this would be another one. The only poker he knew about was the kind used in a fireplace.

“It’s a card game. I was rather good at it too. Someday I’ll have to teach you.” Claire snuggled up against Jamie seeking his heat, his comfort. She yawned greatly, “Except I will miss my green visor.”

 “A vi-zor?” All he could envision was a knight’s helmet with a visor covering the eyes and face.

“It’s a sort of hat with a green brim. It shades your eyes and some of your face. People use it to hide their facial expressions when they bluff at cards.”

Jamie looked at her as if she were a bit daft. He knew nothing could hide her thoughts on that glass face. He tucked her head under his chin, “Come, Sassenach, rest yer head, aye? I think ye had a bit of the nightmare. I’ll keep ye warm and safe.” He lowered his head placing a kiss on the top of her head.

Jamie closed his eyes and thought about the black man he had seen in his dreams too. “Aye, dinna fash, Joe. I’ll care for her with my life,” he whispered just before lapsing into sleep.

A/N:

VOLVULUS: A volvulus occurs when part of the colon or intestine twists. The twisting causes bowel obstructions that may cut off the blood supply to areas of the bowels. This can cause the bowel to die or left untreated the person can die.

RENT: This involves a story. When I was in catechism class the teacher was telling the story of Christ’s trial before the Pharisees. When Jesus was condemned one of the Pharisees was said to have rent his garment. You say that to a bunch of kids and they start to giggle. They wanted to know who he rented his clothes to and for how much. So the teacher explained that to rent something meant to tear it apart violently. I fell in love with the word’s usage and I never thought I would get to use it in this way. But I did!

And poor Jamie, Claire’s stories always leave his surprised, confused, shocked among other feelings.

The truth behind this story was that it was supposed to be smutty. Instead, it evolved into this. It was supposed to happen that the Ridge was also snowed-in. Claire was bored with playing chess with Jamie and wanted to play something else. She wanted to teach him strip poker. So I left myself an opening if I chose to do a second chapter. But I have to finish E2B first.

I hope you liked this and it brought a smile to your face.

You can find me on AO3. There I am LadyJane518.

Thanks for reading!

[allegedlyanandroid]

The Antichrist and the Priest AU, embrace, GavAllen if you're up for it owo

Very interesting to write a character I’ve never written before, hope I did it justice for you @pinkwebby! T’was a fun prompt to write and now I have Thoughts™ about it. Hope you like it!

Trigger warning: violence

Allen never much liked the taste of blood. Back in his youth, starting fights for no reason, it had been a common occurrence. At least it’s his own blood this time.

...small favours.

“I really don’t think you understand the amount of unholy wrath you’ll endure if you don’t let me go,” Allen says and the ringleader, Mitch “Mickey” Price, slams his fist into his cheek again. It hurts like hell but with the way he shakes his hand out after, Allen at least hopes it hurt the other man as much as it did him. He runs his tongue over his teeth and swallows metal-tasting saliva with a grimace. 

“Your boyfriend owes us for what he did to M.L. Fucking broke more bones than he left whole,” Mitch raves, angry and showing his teeth, like an untrained, aggressive dog. 

‘No regard for gun safety either,’ Allen thinks with a small hint of disdain seeing as he flails it around carelessly. “If he’s gonna mess with us then we hit him where it hurts.” Mitch stops, presses the muzzle of the gun beneath Allen’s chin. “And that’s you, Father.”

Allen sighs, levelling the guy with a clearly unimpressed look. “Don’t let me stop you then.”  

He’s… mostly disappointed with Gavin at the moment. It’s not the first time he’s fallen back on the wrong side of the law, returning to the “easy” way to make money. Allen hates when he partakes in fights the most. Seeing the bruises and the blood… it never fails to break his heart. Nevertheless, he steadfastly clings the knowledge that Gavin is getting better. That he wants to be better.

“Boss, someone’s coming!”

The door to their apartment flies open a second later and Gavin strolls in as if he hadn’t a care in the word. A front Allen can see through with ease and he shakes his head minutely when Gavin meets his eyes. They’re filled with dark rage but he reluctantly makes a “fine” gesture with his hands when Allen narrows his eyes at him.

“Well, boys,” Gavin drawls, dragging his gaze away from his tied up, bleeding boyfriend to assess the men responsible. They’re as unafraid as they are stupid though that doesn’t mean Gavin won’t eviscerate them if they dare lay another hand on what’s his. The untameable part of his powers, the brutally vicious kind always looking to escape his control, simmers right below the surface of his skin ‒ all-consuming and burning like hellfire. “Isn’t this a bit over the top? If you wanted to fight, you could have just met me in the ring.”

“You were supposed to throw the fight you daft cunt! Do you have any idea how much money you cost us?” Price yells. “And what the fuck was all that you did to M.L?!”

“He had it coming,” Gavin shrugs, wholly unconcerned with the escalating situation until one of Mitch’s goons puts a knife at Allen’s throat. He clenches his jaw and he looks at Allen, wide-eyed and pleading. It’s a silent battle of wills before Allen reluctantly relents.

“Fine. Don’t get any blood on my floors,” Allen says, cutting Mitch’s next rant off before it can gain traction.  

“The fuck was that, bitch?”

“Permission.” Gavin’s voice is a low rumble of delight. The white of his scleras turn black, his irises following suit, while the air turns static with electricity. Gavin smirks, snaps his fingers, and the light cuts out.

A meaty snap followed by a scream next to Allen’s ear before the knife clatters to the ground.

The lights blare to life brighter than should be possible and Allen can glimpse Gavin zeroing in on Mitch next before he slams his eyes shut.  

Muted whacks of fists finding their target.  

The third one he hears gagging and then the sound of glass breaking behind him. A dull thud after seconds of only whining groans and quiet sobs from the men around them.

Gavin plants a foot over the fourth one’s throat, applying pressure, while watching with grim satisfaction as he chokes. The man scratches over his ankle to get him off and Gavin smiles as he slowly loses the strength to fight. More weight, more pressure, more‒

“Enough,” Allen says, tone low. Gavin instantly raises his foot and places it back on the floor. The man is borderline unconscious while the others are no better off. Mitch tries to reach for his gun but receives a few broken fingers for his efforts. Gavin sweeps it up instead to eject the clip, grinding his heel down on Mitch’s hand for good measure, before he liberates a switchblade from his pocket to cut the ropes tying Allen down.

“Thank you,” Allen murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Gavin’s inviting lips. It smears his blood onto them and Gavin eagerly licks it up. With a soft smile Allen steps closer to envelop him in a warm embrace. He scratches blunt fingernails over the short hair at the nape of Gavin’s neck until his partner relaxes fully and every last trace of his demonic ancestry fades.

“Good boy,” he continues, never raising his voice above a whisper, and Gavin becomes pliant in his arms ‒ docile almost. “Now then… clean up your mess.”

Gavin nods, eyes hazy and unfocused, and Allen smiles serenely; looking every bit like the holy man he presents himself as. Rigid morals, skewed righteousness. Toeing the line of light and dark, preferring instead to paint himself in shades of grey. He watches Gavin work and his lips thin into a severe line.

He’ll save him… no matter the cost.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Kingdom Collisions XII

Masterlist for other parts, more jercy, crackships and bad ideas

writing fic=more description=(hopefully) improve writing

no prewritten chapters=sporadic updates=as surprised as you about what happens

The water always lies.

"Grover," Prince Percy Jackson squealed excitedly, "Grover, Grover, Grover!"

The boy, barely as tall as the countertop, smiled at his friend with sparkling eyes, "Yes Prince?"

"Will you tell me a story?"

"What about Prince?"

"About the magic world." He said in a conspiratorial whisper.

"How about why the rocks in the river are black?"

Little Percy scrunched his nose, already uninterested in anything about rocks but his friend interrupted before he could protest, "You will like this story I promise." The little boy winked.

His sea green eyes lit up like water droplets in the sun. "Tell me!"

So they sat down cross-legged in the grass, the shade of a willow tree protecting them, and looked at each other as if there was no-one else in the world.

"Once upon a time, long long ago..." Grover started. "There lived two kingdoms, at peace and thriving. One was the Kingdom of Sun or as it was known then the Kingdom of ilanga. The buildings were white, their streets were cobbled grey and the people were beautiful beyond words. They looked like me. Dark skin, and coiled hair. With noses that could smell from miles away, and ears that could hear the softest whispers, and mouths that spoke the kindest words."

"What about their eyes Grover?" Little Percy bounced, energy pulsating from him.

"Oh Prince their eyes were the most beautiful of all. For they were every shade of earth. They were the brown of the sand, and the green of the trees, and the yellow of the sun. Gorgeous worldly shades. The people loved living in their kingdom with its endless summer and it's long days. There was hardly anytime to experience the night for it blinked in and out faster than they could catch it. The streets were always filled with brightness, parades and markets and celebration. Ribbons wrapped around every pole and doors were the colour of rainbows.” Life twinkled bright in Grover’s eyes, and Percy felt so proud just then to have such a lovely friend

“On the opposite side,” He continued, “Joined only by a small brook was the Kingdom of Alina. The night. They were always in darkness, stars twinkling like diamonds above them and the moon always full. Their buildings were made from black rock with tiny flecks of starlight in them so that when it caught the light of the moon it seemed to sparkle. Make no mistake they were not covered in inky blackness all the time. For their streets were lined with precious stones. Emeralds encrusted on their poles. And sapphires for their roofs. Aquamarine where the water met the land. And rubies for the pavements. The Kingdom was rich with jewels. But the people did not consider themselves wealthy for it. No, the stones were as much a part of the city as they were. And oh how the people looked. They were as pale as the moon and with hair as bright as their stars. Curiously they shared much of the same features as their friends across the way. Nose, and mouth, and listening ears. But their eyes," Grover stopped to take in a deep breath

" Their eyes were the colours of their precious gems. Zircon and amethyst and opal and every shade possible. There was no real day except for one or two hours in the early morning when they sky morphed into the palest of blues. It was at that time everyday when the two kingdoms met, the light of ilanga and the dark of Alina. Though they never interacted beyond their shared brook they loved each other intently. Loved each other the only way you can love something that is at peace. Gently and without disturbance. They loved each other alone."

The water always lies.

"Wow," Little Percy blinked, awe radiating from him. "The kingdoms sound wonderful."

"Yes but now we must get to why I'm telling you this story. The people and the land lived peacefully side by side, though not interacting but always knowing, understanding. It was not that they weren't allowed to see one another it was that they couldn't. For they were not made for each others cities. They could not withstand the atmosphere. But-” He placed great emphasis on the word “One day two babies were born at the exact same time on the exact same day. One to the Kingdom of Alina and one to the Kingdom of ilanga."

Little Percy gasped, small hands covering his mouth in shock.

Grover gave a look, "The baby of Alina looked exactly like a child of ilanga and the baby of ilanga looked exactly like a child of Alina. The people were confused and it is the nature of living things to be wary when they are disoriented. So when someone suggested kidnapping there was nothing to be done as the worlds folded in on themselves and the kingdoms declared war. Peace was not an option when children were the cause. Peace was not in their heart when these children were not theirs. So they discarded the two bundles of beating hearts and destroyed each other. But if they had just looked, had just taken the time they would have seen what was right in front of them. For the baby of ilanga that was born in Alina, although had dark skin and black hair had eyes like emeralds. And the child of Alina, born in ilanga, although had skin as pale as starlight and hair as white as moonlight, had eyes the colour of an ilangan sky, a common earthly occurnce in the kingdom. But the people saw none of that and so the children were abandoned and the peace was lost and lands were bloodied. For 25 years. By the tenth year the citizens no longer knew the reason they fought. By the fifteenth year they had lost more than they gained. By the twentieth year their only hope of survival was each other. But nothing changed. The fought, and destroyed, and killed with all the vengeance of the first sword strike.

Grover takes a deep breath, “The first day of the twenty-fifth year two beings, long since grown from the discarded children they had been, stepped onto the battlefield, hand in hand. They stood in that brook, once clear enough to see white stone and flecks of gemstone, now red with blood. Stood in that brook and looked on at the battle still raging around them. They did not say anything, did not do anything but stand. Slowly people stopped to watch them. For they looked as foreign, and strange among the crowd as they once did.

The one with green eyes looked to them and said, "We are the children you fight this war over. We are the ones you shed blood for. We are the ones you have killed for. But today that ends. Today we join as one peoples and stop this madness."

The water always lies.

"For remember I told you Prince," Grover looked at him, "That they had killed too many to live separately. Their only hope of survival was to join forces. But the people did not want that. They had been fighting this war for twenty five years and many had not know any other way. Another thing you must know about the nature of living things is that it does not like change. So they refused and they fought more and they continued as if those two beings did not stand before them offering peace. The beings, seeing nothing was going to change did the only thing they could do. The one with emerald eyes slammed their fist into the earth and destroyed the field. And the one with cerulean eyes took that cracked earth and flung it into the air. When it was all over there was no-one left standing, not even them. No, in their place stood a river, with obsidian rocks and water that glistened rainbows. White stone surrounded it on either side. It was the perfect product of both kingdoms."

"So that's why the rocks are black." Little Percy nodded knowingly.

"Yes and the legend is,” His voice lowers, barely a breath, “When the healer and the destroyer finally meet again the obsidian will give away to diamond, the river will once more run clear, and the people will finally be at peace once more."

"I love that story Grover!" He squealed, falling back into the grass with joy.

"I'm glad you do Prince. It is very close to my heart."

The water always lies.

Percy Jackson gasps, and inhales mouthfuls of water. The memory fades, disintegrates from his mind. He grapples for it but it's gone. He is still underwater, although how much time had passed he doesn't know.

His body is bare and his skin is icy but for some reason he can breathe. So he does. Big lungfuls of air. He doesn't have time to think about the Princess of Hekima's attempt at murder, he needs to find his husband. Dead or alive he needs to find Jason.

He let's the current drag him out while some semblance of a plan takes form in his head. He doesn't know who he can trust right now. And he doesn't enjoy being made fool twice. But suddenly something is pulling him up, up, and out of the water. He comes up with a gasp, the world blinding. He is dropped on sun-warmed rock and he blinks himself back into existence.

The water always lies.

Standing over him is Grover.

"What the fuck." He mutters, staring up at his....... friend?

"Why were you in the river? You were drowning."

"I wasn't," He frowns, trying to get his brain started, get his priorities straight. "Where is Jason?"

"Why were you in there?" It is the voice of a King that talks to him.

Percy ignores the question. "Where is my husband?"

"Why were you in the river Prince?" Grover has never gotten angry, but there is a waver in his voice that makes the Prince hesitate. He looks up, into those dark eyes and there is worry and concern, and something wholly unnatural reflecting in them.

"The Princess of Hekima, Annabeth Chase, pushed me in."

Something flashes across the King's expression but he doesn't quite catch it. "I will take you to the Prince."

And then Grover is walking away, through the waterfall and out of sight. Percy doesn't have time to question the uneasy look, or the events that have occurred because the King is already out of sight and he can't lose him in this maze. He doesn't even know it they're still in the tree he woke up in. Gods it seems like days and weeks ago, but it was really only this morning.

"Grover?" He calls, moving through the waterfall and into a cave.

He sees his advisor's silhouette and races to catch up.

"Is your entire Kingdom inside a tree?" He asks, finally reaching him.

It is not Grover who walks beside him. It is a creature as vile and deathly as rotting flesh. It is a creature made of horrors. It is nightmares themselves.

"Gro—Grover—" He mutters, slowly stepping back.

The creature just looks on, eyes ever changing but hollow all the same.

"King!" His voice is full of alarm but he tries to be quiet. He doesn't know what sets this creature off and being the cause of his own demise doesn't sound particularly worthy.

"Grover please."

"Will you make your wish Crown Prince Perseus Jackson?" It hisses abruptly.

"What— what wish?" He's caught so off guard some of his fear slips away.

"You have a wish Prince of Mare, I hear it in your heart."

"I—" He doesn't know what to say, do, be. He wants to run. But those long spindly legs look devastatingly fast and he knows he doesn't stand a chance. "I don't have a wish."

It chuckles, throaty and unpleasant. The sounds scrapes in his ears. "Oh but you do little prince. Tell me your wish and you can go."

The water always lies.

He takes a deep breath. And another. And another. It was easier underwater. "I wish to see my husband."

The creature laughs, and laughs, and laughs, and the sound dissolves into the cave, echoes like broken shards.

"Are you sure Prince?"

"Who are you?"

"I am the partidari." It gives some twisted form of a smile. "And your wish is my command."

Before he can protest, stop it, end this, the creature becomes dust and then disappears altogether and in its place is the unmoving body of Prince Jason Grace.

Something cracks in his chest as he dives for his husband, and when his arms go through him he breaks altogether.

"Where are you?" He sobs.

Thousands of meters below, at the bottom of the river, nestled like a sleeping God between charcoal black rocks, is Prince Jason Grace. Unmoving, unconscious, and alive.

Prince Percy Jackson curls into a ball and cries for the life he no longer recognizes, the friends he no longer has, and the husband he had once hated so vehemently it became something else, something different, more.

And down below in that river of rainbows, obsidian rock give away to diamond.

the destroyer cries.

the healer dies.

and the water never lies.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[blurrypetals]

The Wicker King by K. Ancrum - blurrypetals review

originally posted apr. 2, 2018 - ★★★★★

It is books as completely magnificent as this that make me feel lucky to be alive, to be able to read the written word, to have eyes to read those words, to have hands to lovingly trace over the pages. This is a truly special and wholly personal book and, because of that energized hunger I felt each time I opened this book, I will treasure this dear possession of mine and the words it has printed upon it for the rest of my life. Every inch, every word of this book is achingly beautiful and completely boneshaking and I loved each and every single moment I was lucky enough to spend with it. It reminded me, in a way, of Johnny Truant's stream of consciousness footnotes in another book I adore, House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski, and that really isn't even taking into consideration the fact that, in order to experience both The Wicker King and House of Leaves, you must be holding a copy of the printed book in your hands, which is to say: the way they work is not just on the level of prose and words, but also in the way those words are laid out, what the pages look like, and how each moment must be lived in with your eyes, not your ears. I relished in the seemingly simple yet incredibly effective way the pages slowly darken as you move on, going from crisp, clean white to a grungy grey to pitch black and every shade in between, and I love how this incredibly inspired choice reflects the mental state of not only August, our point of view character, but also of Jack, whose psyche is slowly but surely betraying him. As stated in the note to the readers at the end of the book (which, after I had caught my breath in sobbing over the end of the narrative, moved me back to tears), Jack and August are victims of circumstance, two young men abandoned entirely by their authority, and K. Ancrum did a marvelous job of steeping each word and passage with heartache, longing, and loneliness, effectively plunking me right into these poor, broken boys' sad mud-stained and river-soaked shoes. I think it is needless to say at this point that I loved this book. It resonated with me, plucking my heartstrings like a harp and playing me like a fiddle until my emotions were wrung out, raw, and aching in the best of ways. I believe it's worth mentioning that August and Jack remind me of the titular boys in The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater in a certain way, especially of Ronan and Adam, who line up easily with Jack and August, respectively, so it certainly brought up some nostalgia in that sense, while also summoning up a different nostalgia by having it set in 2003, a very strange but fitting year to set this particular story. The internet and texting were new things back then and, while they're present, it helps the suspension of disbelief when it comes to the fact that Jack and August often go gallivanting around without having to answer to much of anyone. Just...wow. I loved this book so much. It was so captivating I spent nearly every waking moment since I began reading it thinking about it and I'm certain it's something I'll continue thinking about for many years to come, just like the other two books I've mentioned here, House of Leaves and The Raven Boys, both of which tend to sneak up on me in a sense, where I haven't thought about them in months and, all of a sudden, I'm a mess just thinking about that one part where that one thing happened or that one page where that one line was said and...well, I don't know if I could be any more excited that another book has so utterly consumed me in the same way. This is, without a doubt, one of my new all-time favorites and, after I read The Legend of the Golden Raven, a companion novella to this, I'll be waiting anxiously to see what Ms. Ancrum will do next.

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, BRIDGET! You’ve been accepted for the role of HERMIA. Admin Julie: Bridget, your application for Hazel was, in short, incredible. Nothing felt unfinished out or out of place -- every word you wrote felt as though it just made sense. It was a true, genuinely pleasure to read; your in-character interview was especially heartrending, and honestly, listening to Hazel speak felt quite a lot like coming home and sitting down with an old friend over a nice cup of tea, or coffee, which is a welcome relief from the harshness that Verona can often personify if you let yourself get too drawn in to the chaos and the angst and the pain. Hazel is utterly human in an incredible way, and you hit that nail right on the head. We cannot wait to see her on the dashboard, and we cannot wait to have you with us. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Bridget Age | Twenty-two Preferred Pronouns | She/they Activity Level | I am currently in a fugue state when it comes to both the perception of myself and of time, so while I will intend to be online everyday, sometimes a few days will slip through the cracks of my conscious and then I’ll realize I’ve been MIA and do my best to do about 123432 replies in an hour to play catch-up. That said, I can guarantee at least four days a week being online for at least an hour if not more. Timezone | EST How did you find the rp?  | I feel like I’ve known this RP for years but honestly I’ve been capital-I Intimidated by it, but I was talking to Kay and figured I was finally willing to take the plunge Current/Past RP Accounts | https://rvncorns.tumblr.com/ https://birdieklein.tumblr.com/

IN CHARACTER

Character | Hermia ; Hazel Ruth Accardi

Hazel ; english: the hazelnut tree Ruth ; biblical, hebrew: compassionate friend Accardi ; a family who believes in God above all, following his teachings in all motions of their life

What drew you to this character? |

As mentioned above, I’ve seen this roleplay for years, and I have had friends be a part of it. In the depths of my Google Drive, I have half-started apps that I never finished due to the muse never being quite there, or for fear of submitting and facing competition itself. I’ve perused the masterlist every so often, but no one has quite piqued my interest quite like Hazel.

I think I knew I had to app them after reading the line, “ only a foolish saint believed that they could walk through a city of such sin with unblemished hands and clean soles of feet. ” It was so visceral, and it really made me start imagining this character further than what the biography offered. I could only picture her having found this solid identity, certainly marked by the world, but mostly unstained. I couldn’t help but think that this — being in Verona, that is — is going to change her. She might not realize it, She might not want to believe it, but it will happen slowly and surely.

I do love characters that have crises with identity. There is something soothing in being sure of yourself and who you are, and I do believe that fuels Hazel. She fought and struggled to find herself, and now she will begin to struggle and fight to keep herself as she is, as who she knows herself to become.

There’s room for both growth and regression within Hazel, and I genuinely would love to explore it.

I also was captured by her love and fervid passion for religion. As someone who has personally struggled with religion and their own views of it, I think Hazel will be an interesting projection. I want to see her lean into her faith with all that is coming to trouble her because that is who they are. God is her Shepherd and she is his lamb. He is guiding her through all of this, struggles and all.

I don’t think she’ll ever come to have a moment where she will renounce her faith. It is embedded in her. She is solid and unwavering in it — and I desperately believe that that can’t be changed, no matter what the world — Verona, specifically — will throw at them.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

I always fear that I’m not living right: I want to explore how far Hazel falls in with the Montagues. Is it forging only ? Does it stop there ? Or does it slowly become more and more until she realizes she is drowning in sin she could have never imagined ? I want her to have moral conflict. She loves Verona for its beauty and history — but is it worth the sin ? Is it worth the stain on her godly soul no matter how many times she goes to confession ? I gotta say I don’t think she’ll be necessarily cognizant of her doing more. It just seems like she’s paying off their debts. A gun to the face has put the fear of God in her heart ( — which leads me to wonder how much fear did she have of God to begin with, the righteous and Almighty, and I do suppose I could write a whole thesis on this but I’ll refrain ) and to question it seems like the wrong move.

ALSO HAHA I JUST THOUGHT OF THIS RIGHT NOW pt. 2 : what if she started forging for the Capulets too ? Like, to make more money on the side ? The money they’re earning from the Montagues is basically nil, considering it’s all going to debts. If she wants a little money in her pockets, maybe she’ll have to do what she has to. Maybe there’s no choice. It could be dangerous and risky — scratch that. It would definitely be dangerous and risky. But I think a part of Hazel is still somewhat blind to all of the danger. It hasn’t quite touched her yet ( a gun to her face aside ), so it hasn’t quite struck her how much is at play, at least not in a real, physical, palpable way.

I do have to say that I’m pretty sure she will end up more involved within either the Montagues or the Capulets despite what her initial thoughts are ( because that’s the path I’d like to move with her ). Slowly but surely, she’ll end up in deeper water, but I don’t think she’ll want to get out so long as she feels safe. That’s so important, a sense of safety. She has that in her relationship with her parents, and especially her relationship with God. That said, I feel like I need to add that she will stay involved with the gangs so long as she isn’t hurting anyone directly. She’ll have blinders on, specifically rose-colored ones, of her own making. Perhaps it’s naive, perhaps it’s selfish, but to think too long about it is scary. To add on the thought of hurting someone else by her direct action ? Unfathomable. It’s established in the biography that she saw the world in extremes, and I do imagine that, while she has grown, she still sees some things in black and white. I think getting more involved with the Capulets and Montagues will show her that the world isn’t just her version of black and white. What she sees as wrong, someone else might see it as right. I think she’ll be introduced to shades of grey she never quite was able to perceive anymore. I want her to learn more about people as she learns more about the war between the Montagues and Capulets.

I’m still petrified that I’ll die alone: I can’t imagine that leaving Harley didn’t hurt Hazel at least a little bit. It was the right decision surely — she’ll never think or believe otherwise — but now she’s grown up. I think that she wants Harley to be in her life because she loved them once, partly, not wholly, but as the connection says, Hazel doesn’t know where Harley is meant to fit. I think it would be really interesting to have them reunite and discover who she is now. Though Harley knew herself then, I’m sure she’s changed. I want Hazel to learn that, and I want her to reintroduce herself to her. It would start with a “ Hi, I’m Hazel, ” and it’d be a little shy and a little hesitant, but she’s open to possibilities. She isn’t as closed off as she once was. I really think Hazel needs to figure out where Harley fits, or, and hear me out, where she doesn’t fit. I don’t know if Hazel ever felt true closure from where they left each other before, but maybe she can find it. Whether it’s them together or not, it’s something she’ll work to figure out.

Ok I feel the need to say that obviously it would depend on the Harley writer and myself on whether or not they get back together and also their chemistry ???? okay but so: If they get back together, I think Hazel will definitely feel more pulled into the world of the Capulets and Montagues. I feel like I should state that, one, she would be incredibly glad to be with Harley again, and she would fall in love again, which leads to a very happy mindset and lifestyle, but the most heavy impact it would have on her life is for sure  the one it would have on her role with the Capulets and Montagues. Honestly, right now, she doesn’t want to be involved. That’s the end goal. The only thing keeping her with the Montagues right now is her debt. Once she has it paid off entirely, there’s really no reason to keep working with them. I mean, besides money, but I digress. She wouldn’t plan to work for either. She could be pressed / convinced into it. However, regarding the Capulets, she wouldn’t want to put Harley in a difficult position were she still working with the Montagues when they got back together. Can she quit ? Probably not ! Would she try ? Yes ! Maybe she’d offer to assist the Capulets in some way to make it equal. In her mind, it would work. Harley: come work for the Capulets. I’m loyal to them. There’s some safety in Verona with an allegiance Hazel: Good point I think if Harley asked her to, she wouldn’t say no, not right away It would take time to make a decision, and she would definitely think about it ( not just an hour, but days, maybe a week ? ) She would be conflicted between her strength and resolve towards herself but also her loyalty towards Harley If they don’t get back together, I do think Hazel will be sad, but not cripplingly so. She would be the first person to say she isn’t the same as she was a year ago, let alone however long it was ago that her and Harley were together. I think it would loosen a tie between her and the Capulets, if there was one, but also loosen the tie between her and Verona. I sort of see it ( them not being together ) as a reason not to stay. It would cement to her that she wasn’t the person who fell in love with Harley. She’s different, she’s someone new. And that’s not a bad thing. I think it would be almost a relief actually, to know that she's changed. I would hope that they’d still be friends and would get to know each other for who they are now. Hazel wants to be excited for who she is now and what all that she believes in.

I’m still petrified of going broke: Hazel never imagined being in crippling debt, not to a college in the United States, and definitely not to a bank controlled by a mob in Italy. But here she is. This is her life. Is it worth it to stay ? What if she ran home to her parents, embracing their help and their charity until she found her footing once again ? She could do it. Would Verona follow ? She doesn’t think so. But guilt would. She made her bed, shouldn’t she lie in it ? Maybe running wouldn’t do any good, so maybe she should find purpose in Verona. It could start with a job. It could continue with getting out of debt and earning her freedom once more. Then, she could further repent beyond confession with charity and good deeds. Maybe she can set themselves on a godly path once more someway somehow.

To stay: I think Hazel wants to stay because it’s new. It’s beautiful and freeing to be so independent. She’s learning about the world, about herself, and, importantly, she feels closer to God here. She’d have more reason to stay if she had Harley, she’d have more reason to stay if she became better friends with those she’s found friendship ( acquaintanceship ? ) with. Felipe: You don’t forge documents for someone without at least feeling a little loyal to them ! I imagine Hazel is keen to remain in touch with them, to know they’re safe. Also, she told her whole life story to him. If that doesn’t add up to friendship ( in her mind, at least ), then what does ? Ajax: Listen. I just have thoughts about these too. They could become BEST FRIENDS. Obviously, that’s Hazel with her rose-colored glasses talking through me. I just imagine she feels close to him ( with him viewing her as a sister-like figure, I imagine it’s reciprocal ). Also please note that above I said Hazel wants to stay. Despite her debt and moral quandaries, she still wants to be in Italy. That’s how she’s feeling right now. I think staying will impact her self-confidence. She is enough. She is strong and brave in ways she never quite imagined. I think she’ll discover more about humans, the longer she stays in Verona ; rather, she’ll learn more about their particularities and peculiarities — who they are, their beliefs, their loyalties. That’s something that struck me particularly about Hazel, she’s always learning and she’s eager to do so, not just about herself but the world and the people in it, too. To not stay, in no particular order: there’s a war between the Capulets and Montagues going on and she’s somehow gotten involved. She’s in debt. Her ex is here. I think if she got hurt, saw someone get hurt, or knew someone closely who got hurt, she might be convinced to leave. Harm isn’t something she wants to be around. She doesn’t want it to happen to her and she doesn’t want to see someone be affected. Ultimately, though, it boils down to fear. If she’s scared of her life being at risk, she might consider it time to flee. I think this would ultimately cause her to shelter herself further. She’ll seek the familiar, her family and childhood home, perhaps, or somewhere with a heavily-religious population. Either way, she’ll fall back on her faith and the familiar, finding comfort in what she already knows, trusts, and believes in.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? |

What is life without a little risk ? Kill her if you have to. Let’s go for maximum angst and maximum pain. IN DEPTH

What is your favorite place in Verona?

The cathedral and its pews seemed awfully lonely and awfully cold, and Hazel wondered if one without god in their hearts would simply freeze if they stepped inside. It seemed foolish to wonder such a thing, but the cathedral was such a sacred and holy place. What good came to outsiders who stepped inside ? To come there was to seek God. It had to be for that purpose and that only. “ I found the Cathedral in my first days here — but saying it like that makes it seem like I wasn’t aware of it before I moved. ” Her head was tilted askew, her eyes not upon whom she spoke to, instead stuck on the multicolored panes of the stained glass windows. “ It was one of my reasons I chose Verona, actually. I — I needed a place I knew I’d be able to find God. ”

There was something that felt like home in a church. Hazel had never much enjoyed labeling a place as such, but the wooden pews were as familiar as her father, the velvet kneelers soft and comforting as her mother’s hand on her cheek. She’s staring down at her feet now, half-embarrassed and half feeling like she’s revealing her inner soul. “ This — it’s unlike the church I grew up in in a thousand ways, but I still know what to expect here. I know the prayers and the rites, the taste of communion on my tongue. I come here and find the familiar when I’m feeling lost. ”

What does your typical day look like? “ It’s really not that interesting, I’ll have you know. ” She shrugged her shoulders, brows raised, fingers reaching up to push long strands of hair behind her ears. “ I wake up when the sun peeks through my window and I eat breakfast. Usually coffee and a bread of some sort. I’m a real sucker for a good cornetto, honestly. ”

“ I’m a morning person so I try to get as much done before noon, otherwise I consider the day to be a wash. I — I have a lot of papers to work on. ” She doesn’t elaborate, nor does she plan to. The papers, the forgeries, take up so much of her time and effort. She has to be perfect and precise with them, fear of what would happen if she wasn’t has gripped her so strongly that she’s woken in the middle of the night with a cold sweat slicking her body. “ I can get lost in my work. I guess I can be a bit of a perfectionist. ”

She nodded to herself, thinking of what comes next. Her eyes flicked towards the window, towards the people below. For a second, she’s lost in her staring. She couldn’t help but think that people-watching was becoming a lost art. “ I like having my afternoons open to wander and explore. I’m still getting to know the city, and just when I think I’ve got it all figured out, I find something new. It’s beautiful and historic. A marvel. ” Her words had turned airy and distant ; her body was there but her mind was somewhere else. “ I didn’t think moving to Verona would involve me working so much. ” She snorted a laugh despite herself. “ I had to invest in a better pair of sneakers a week in, my old ones were falling apart. ”

“ I usually go to church every day, too, if not every other day. It’s a chance to think and check in with myself. With God.”

Again, she’s shrugging. “ It’s not exciting, okay ? I’m not — exciting. I never have been. I don’t think I’d want to be either ? ”

Silence hung.

“ I call my parents in the evening. It’s afternoon back in Colorado. Usually I can catch them in their free time. Then it’s dinner. Then bed by nine. ”

She feels like she’s being judged. She doesn’t like it.

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

A loaded question. Does it mean since coming to Verona or within her entire life ? Her mind is reeling with possibilities of answers. She thinks of a beautiful girl she couldn’t give her heart to. She thinks of the Montagues, who she’s ended up helping in return for paid debts. One seems like the obvious answer, bigger than the other.

Her heart says otherwise.

“ I hurt a girl who didn’t deserve it. ” Her lip curls with self-disgust. “ I couldn’t not do what I did, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to hurt her. If I could have done it gentler I would have, but hearts ache. It’s what they’re meant to do. There was no avoiding it. ”

She rests her head in her hands and talk through her fingers.

“ I don’t like hurting people. It doesn’t feel good. ”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

This — this — is the easiest question asked. There is no doubt in Hazel’s mind when she answers. “ If there is a gun pointed at me when I’m told to do something, that goes to the top of the list. ” She leans back in her chair, her arms folded across her chest. It’s such a loaded question. How could they expect her to say anything else ? “ It’s like this. I’m good at forging things. I have to do it. This added pressure, though, it makes me feel like I’m drowning, okay ? I’ve never done it where so much was at stake, where it’s been my life on the line. ” Her jaw is clenched, trembling slightly. “ I just feel like I really played myself, you know ? I fell for a trick and into a trap, and the next thing I know is that I’m staring into the mouths of lions. ”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

Her face flushes as more time passes. She doesn’t like being considered ignorant, but as time passes and no words spill from parted lips, it’s clear that she doesn’t have much to say. “ I don’t know much about it. ” She speaks slowly and carefully, considering. “ All I know is that it scares me, and I’m on the precipice of falling into it. ” Isn’t she ? She’s forging for the Montagues. That makes her involved with one side of the war, if not both by association. Still, she wants to stay away from most of it, if she can. “ I don’t know what’s started it, and I know that hate and rage has kept it going. I’m scared of being touched by its bloodshed. No good can come from being involved. ”

Extras:

HEADCANONS

001. Of the few things she brought with her to Verona, very likely her dearest possession, is a pearl and crystal Holy Rosary she received after completing her confirmation from her parents.

002. She learned she had a penchant for forgeries in high school. It started with a signature missed from her parents. Her few friends caught on and asked for a few favors. It ended as quickly as it started, guilt eating at her core. But it always seemed to come back. In college, a doctor said they would fax over a note that would grant her an extension for certain assignments. When they didn’t, Hazel did it herself, making a pastiche out of old notes and documents from the practice. That wasn’t lying, was it ? It had meant to be done by the doctor anyway. But she was offered money a few more times when others found out what she could do. She always found herself feeling a pit in her stomach, deciding the possibility of being blackmailed if she said no was worse than the acts of fraud itself. She thought post-college that it would stop. No more trickery and fooling others. And then she ended up in Verona with debt weighing her down, letters sent to her asking for payments nearly everyday. She went to the bank with a letter, signed by the head of the bank itself, saying she had been granted an extension. Most didn’t bat an eye. It looked good, it looked real. Perhaps the extension was too generous because she was caught. Instead of pursuing legal options against her, an offer was laid at her feet. Make some forgeries, lose your debt. How could she say no ?

003. She has a favorite coffee shop just outside of the little apartment she’s living at. She goes there for breakfast. Sometimes she orders extra pastry to have them at home. She’s considered asking for a job there. Something real. Something legal. Something with low risk.

004. She calls her mother frequently. To not worry her, she says everything is fine, just dandy and golden. It’s a white lie, the teensiest of things, but it’s to her parents. Surely God would understand that she wishes to not stress them out.

PINTEREST BOARD

[loquaciousquark]

29th Drakonis. A bit chilly, but mostly grey and choked with foundry smoke, so thick this week I’ve been finding soot on all my windowpanes, both inside and out, which is odd now that I think about it

Well, that’s the last sword away for–oh, what’s his name. Taarbas, Fenris tells me: that Qunari warrior who’s been lurking about in one of the Hightown squares for the last several months. The one who wanted the dead Qunari’s swords/souls back so they could be taken care of properly. They were scattered all over the city, the Coast, Sundermount–I don’t even remember any Qunari wandering up that mountain, just Tal-Vashoth!–but my compulsive heroic magpie tendencies have come to bear really meaningful fruit at last, and all dozen swords are now safely on a ship back to Par Vollen, and I no longer must worry I’ll find a dead Qunari warrior on my doorstep some sunny morning.

Well, not Taarbas, at least. Knowing how this city feels about outsiders (and me in particular), who knows what the postman might deliver with the milk one morning?

He gave me a staff in thanks, which I thought was very odd. I may be basalit-an, but I’m also saarebas unbound, so I was rather surprised to be handed one of the most well-made staves I’ve seen in years without even a whispered suggestion of face-stitching or chained collars. (I asked Fenris, a bit masochistically, if he thought I might pull off the style of those collars; got a black look and a very sour reminder that Danarius used to chain him up like a Qunari pet, so he was hardly qualified to comment on their appearance. Damn and blast, even if he was back reading his book in minutes without even so much as a furrowed brow.)

Still, Taarbas said it was my soul now, and I ought to care for it as such. It’s racked by the fireplace at the moment–I can see it if I lean back in my chair–but for something that ought to be a reflection of the deepest part of me, it’s awfully dangerous-looking. And beautiful, too, but that’s as should be expected, aha.

I can’t decide if I should be insulted or pleased. Knowing the Qunari, perhaps both.

4th Cloudreach. Watery sky, watery seas, watery afternoons. Everything is damp and sticky, but at least it’s still cool

Apologized to Fenris this morning over breakfast for that rotten saarebas comment the other day. He stared at me like I’d grown another head–it had passed out of his mind the minute I’d said it, he told me, and he was more annoyed I’d brought it back up, since it made the whole thing bigger than it ought to be. Well, fine, said I, if he was going to refuse to be offended I’d refuse to offer the apology in the first place, and he rolled his eyes so hard I was offended, and then I threw a breakfast roll at him and he took hold of my shirt-collar to kiss me, and we nearly upset the pastry table together before Sandal came in for an orange bun and rather ruined the mood.

Oh, well. Delayed gratification, and all that. We’re to go hunt down some great “ancient evil under Kirkwall” this afternoon anyway. I swear, this city has more ancient evils and lingering blood magic ritual horrors than the rest of Thedas put together.

Later

If nothing else, I’ve learned that any demon who introduces themselves by name gets a fireball right to the mouth.

Hybris, he was called, the greatest hulking pride demon I’ve seen in my entire life. I’ve never feared for all our lives as I did when that thing stood up…and up, and up, and up, and started pulling shades and lesser demons out of the floor not two levels down from my cellar.

Suffice it to say we all survived, but I’m truncating this entry on account of Aveline needing her broken wrist’s next round of healing and my dislocated shoulder is giving me fits.

Awiergan scrolls, pah. I’ll tuck them in here until I decide not to use them for Sandal’s next craft project. That’ll teach you maleficar to leave your fancy scrolls lying about where any doglord can pick them up and sneeze all over them, you clods!

14th Cloudreach. Late. Showers all day, not wet enough to soak, just enough to be irksome

Just got a frantic visit from Pelarie. Her sister is being suspected of harboring demons in the Gallows. Or consorting with, or possibly consulting–Pelarie was understandably distraught and not quite clear on the details. Jule was with her the whole time, holding her hand so tight her knuckles were white. It’s good there’s no question of her support.

Anders and I are going in just a few minutes. I haven’t touched something like this in years–longer since I’ve done it with him–but this one’s different, and I want no chance of another Alrik situation in those tunnels.

Mother isn’t around to need protecting anymore, after all. Orana and Bodahn understand the risks and have given me leave to go. I sent a runner to Fenris’s mansion, for whatever that’s worth. He didn’t come.

I’ve just heard the door, and I can hear Anders’s voice downstairs. There’s already a crackle to it I don’t like.

Well, we’ll see.

Late. Early, rather

Success. Pelarie’s sister and her sister’s only friend, a little boy of fifteen or sixteen, are off with a friend of Isabela’s (Samson refused to meet us so haphazardly) to the shores of West Hill, and then to a family near Calenhad who is known to be friendly.

Thank goodness they weren’t in the cells yet. Nothing we could have done if they’d already been moved. Being in those narrow stone hallways, though, even if only just for a minute or two…

Ugh. All my hairs are standing on end just at the memory of it.

They looked so young, standing on that ship. Her hair was falling out of its plait and his eyes were huge in the dark. Neither of them had proper cloaks for the weather, though the captain said she’d have something belowdecks they could use until they got safely across the water.

Fenris was here when I got home. He and Pelarie and Jule were all sitting in the great room together in silence, looking very tense; though at least Pelarie and Jule grew relieved as I told them how it had gone. No details yet, for their sakes–I’m certain Meredith will hunt this–but I gave Pelarie her sister’s note and the hug she had me promise, and then they went home, much more…well, cheerful’s not the right word. Less afraid she’d be branded by dawn, anyway.

I thought Fenris would be angry. I didn’t want to meet his eyes, even though I could feel them boring into the side of my head. Still, I’d decided I wasn’t going to run away–Maker knows we’ve had enough of that between us–and so for several minutes we sat there like very quiet little statues while he looked very hard at me and I looked very hard at my gloves, which were very muddy but (for once) blood-free.

Eventually, when I thought perhaps we both might really turn to stone for all the good we were doing, he asked if I’d gone alone with Anders.

Yes, I told him. There are very few people left in or near the city that can be trusted with these last paths that go so deep into the Gallows. I don’t think we’ll be able to use this one again, and I told him that too.

I did tell him I’d tried to send for him, but he hadn’t been home. He said that regardless, I hadn’t waited. That was true.

We sat there in silence for another few minutes; then he shifted, restless as a horse, and said he’d realized something was amiss when I didn’t come to Wicked Grace. Anders we no longer expect, not with any regularity, but me…he’d come here after and found Jule & Pelarie in the great room, and Orana and Bodahn sitting solemnly in the kitchen, and he’d pieced together enough to know where we must have gone.

He’s not angry about Pelarie’s sister, not really. I mean, he is a little, because my assertions that her sister is in fact demon-free are not wholly sufficient for him to allow two untried mage-children loose into the world without supervision, but that’s not what upset him most.

He truly thinks Anders is mad. Dangerous–deadly, even, and deadly to me as much as a templar alone in Darktown.

I wish I could disagree. Anders’s eyes were blue tonight at every step through that tunnel, and more than once I saw the reflection of that blue fissured light when the water got above our ankles. I won’t pretend there weren’t times when he’d speak with two voices, and I found myself very much wishing I had Fenris or Aveline or Sebastian at my back.

But when we had those two on the ship, and I looked over at Anders where we stood in the shallows, he… His eyes were the proper color then. He had a faint smile on his mouth, and he looked so much like his old self for the first time in ages, and he looked…

Flames, he looked so tired. Slumped on his staff, his black coat hanging off his shoulders, just…wrung down to the bone. But he looked like Anders, and when he turned to me and thanked me for giving him a good one to go out on, I nearly wanted to cry.

I don’t think Fenris’s opinion was altered by my telling. But I told him the truth, and he does not hate me, and though he did go to his own home tonight to sleep he gave me a rough kiss on the cheek before he left.

I can hear birds outside my window. And the curtains are grey now, instead of black, so it must be closer to morning than I thought. I wish I could sleep.

I keep thinking about how much Anders has changed. I went back to some of my earlier journals and it’s almost as if he were a different person…I can’t imagine him dancing the Remigold with me now, no matter how I might beg. How I miss him! I hadn’t realized how much. Standing next to him tonight in the bay was the first time I’d felt like I’d spoken to him in years. And now I’ve gone and smudged the whole burning paragraph trying to wipe off the snotty tearstains, so serves me right.

It’s not that I’m the same either, I know. Neither is Fenris, nor Varric, nor Merrill, nor anyone except maybe Sebastian, and even he’s talking about returning to Starkhaven now where he’s never before. I can’t even say that we’ve all moved in a positive direction, between my mother and Merrill’s mirror and Sebastian’s business with the Harimanns and even Isabela’s trial with the Arishok. We’re all a bit more cracked, a bit more worn than we were before. We all have scars. But Anders…Anders has made himself nothing but scars. Nothing but open wounds and bleeding Fade out every inch.

Vengeance, he told me. Not justice.

I don’t think I can pull him back from this.

21st Cloudreach. Warmer today, only light mists this morning and not a drop of rain since brunch

Odd missive from Hubert today regarding the Bone Pit. I’m not wholly sure what it means aside from calamity (at least according to Hubert’s skewed scale), but Varric & Fenris & I are going to go meet Aveline at his stand and see what’s doing. I need to go drop off the last of Solivitus’s orders while I’m out anyway, and today’s the day for Gamlen’s weekly basket, so I think we’ll just make a round of it.

Toby has gotten himself into the neighbor’s hedge again. I can see his furry arse sticking straight up from here. Maker, that dog

23rd Cloudreach

We fought a high dragon, and we killed her, because she killed almost every miner left in the Pit.

She was so deadly and so beautiful.

I didn’t want to kill her. But those miners–I told them. I told them they would be safe, and now they’re dead. And I have to write to each one of their families to tell them.

She had to die, I know. But oh, Maker, how much less wonder is there in the world now for it?

26th Cloudreach. Warmer still, sunny, light clouds

I’m having Sol make me an amulet from a drop of her blood. I’ll carry her with me from here on, even if it’s less lofty travel than she’s used to. Fenris thinks I’m being a fool, but that’s only because she shook him in her teeth like a rag doll and broke almost every one of his ribs, so he’s hardly being objective about the situation.

Varric’s been telling the story every time I walk into the Hanged Man lately. I’m in such a knot over the whole mess–I’ve wanted all my life to fight a dragon, and it was a glorious fight, I can’t deny it. My heart still races when I think of swinging up onto her back and getting the staff-blade of my soul (thank you, Taarbas) up under her scales, digging my heels in until I could blow lightning down her spine to make her let Fenris go.

It was a glorious fight, even if the start of it had more death than it ought.

It’s just…I’ve only just now realized I’d rather fly as a dragon than fight one.

6th Bloomingtide. Getting hotter, I can feel it. The promise of heat, the promise of baking like a beached flounder under the northern sun

Odd thing happened last night. And by “odd,” I mean “a crazed dwarf broke in and tried to murder me in my sleep.”

Fenris has been staying almost every night since the dragon–not for prurient reasons, alas for me, but because his whole torso is a glorious purpling green and he can barely walk. For my good fortune, though, that meant he was thankfully there to hear the bedchamber door click, jolt upright, grunt at his own jolt which woke me up, and spur the lyrium bright enough he could reach over and smack the blade that would have skewered me astray. I’ve got a magnificent scrape going down one shoulder where the dagger’s point still caught me, but I’m alive to write this, so it’s acres better than it might have been.

By that time I was cogent enough to roll off the bed and get fire going in both hands. I could hear Fenris fighting through the pain to get himself up on the other side, but now I could see the dwarf in the firelight, and he looked…

I don’t even know how to describe it. He was pale, pale as if he hadn’t seen the sun in years, and he had a black scraggly beard with patches missing. And his eyes were milky grey, all across iris and pupil alike, so dense I don’t know how he saw a thing to stab at. He had no expression. No rage, no fear, no violence. Just a flat mouth and straight black eyebrows.

“I need the blood of the hawk,” he said, rough as rocks, and came at me again with the dagger. Which is rude, if nothing else, because I happen to be using all my blood at the moment, thank you very much.

Anyway, once I was on my feet it was much more an even fight, even with Fenris hardly able to heft his punches. I kept his attention long enough for Fenris to come around and clock him on the temple at the same time he took out both his knees; then I came after and planted my bare hand on his face and held it there until he stopped moving.

I don’t like killing that way. It’s messy and agonizing and it’s a bad death no matter how you slice it, but he was in my bedroom with a knife and Fenris with every rib broken, and I couldn’t take the chance. What made it infinitely worse is that this dwarf didn’t even scream. He just…died.

Ugh, my skin is crawling all over again. Regardless, my arm was the only casualty, so I tore off the rest of my shirtsleeve and tied it up with Fenris’s help, though now that the rush of battle had worn off he was nearly toppling off his feet and he kept catching his breath when he moved. He had to sit on the side of the bed and wait with the body while I raced downstairs and checked on the rest of the household.

And on that note, Maker bless my beautiful, wonderful, perfect dog. He’d herded Orana, Bodahn, and Sandal all into the kitchen, where they’d locked the door, and when I opened it without thinking (and without introducing myself) he came tearing at me like a fiend from the Void to rip out my throat. I’ve never been on the receiving end of that horrible snarl before. Maker, I’m so proud of him.

Toby realized who I was before killing me, which is good, and settled on whipping tight circles around my knees until I sent him up to sit with Fenris. Orana was less panicked than I’d expected–though they were all a bit rattled, as was I–and then I realized with Hadriana’s household, strangers that burst in at night and threatened a slave’s life might not be all that uncommon.

I told them it was safe and sent Bodahn to find a guard so long as he didn’t leave sight of the house. He did bother to put a proper jacket and boots on, though he forgot to take off the tasseled nightcap, which I didn’t realize until I saw him turn out the door around the corner and the tassel flew out behind. Orana made tea for everyone and Sandal immediately went back to bed, though not before murmuring about hawk’s blood and making me a fair way nervous.

So the guard came, and then she went and called more guards, and they went and called more guards, and the long and short of it is I’ve had a half-dozen strangers in my bedroom since midnight and Fenris and I are both still in our bloody pajamas.

I told Brennan not to wake Aveline until a right reasonable hour, so at least one of us will have had some sleep, but the way word spreads in this city I expect Varric has heard already.  I’m sure he’ll be along shortly to get his nose in the business if nothing else. The sun’s just now risen, so we can see a fair bit more than the lamplight allows (I forbade them from burning down my curtains with open torches–if I’ve managed to keep them unsinged so far, no guardsman’s errant hand is going to turn them into cinders now). He looks just as pale and eerie in daylight as he did in the dark. Almost moreso.

I don’t know what all this means. I have a feeling it’s more than just one mad dwarf with a vendetta, but until Varric comes I don’t think we’ll glean anything more from his body. There’s no letters, no marks, no tattoos, no orders…nothing. At least, nothing we can find. Maybe Varric will have more luck.

Maker, I’m tired. Fenris is sitting stiff as a poker on the library sofa beside me, but I think that’s the broken ribs more than any pique at the attack. Or, Void, maybe it’s both. I don’t know. He tried to read a bit, but we were both too distracted by the thumps from my rooms, so instead we’ve been sitting here twiddling our thumbs and watching the sun come up. And occasionally making sure the other’s alive, just to check.

He said that it reminded him of Tevinter. I didn’t ask, and he didn’t elaborate, but I know enough about what being Danarius’s bodyguard entailed that my heart cracked a bit. Not that I told him that. Instead I told him that next time someone came for the silver of the wolf I’d be happy to be his beautiful, powerful midnight protector and erstwhile lover in turn, though I couldn’t do much about the lyrium, and I’d even let him kiss me after if he wanted.

He smiled at that, and he did let me kiss him, though he hissed and clutched at his ribs when he tried to lean into it. Poor man. I’m fairly certain this fight re-cracked a few of them, but I don’t dare ask to get a good look until the guards leave. Not that they’d report me (I don’t think, anyway–certainly Brennan and Donnic wouldn’t, and I’ve given the rest enough ginger snaps over the years to win at least some good favor), but the last thing I’d ever do is work with the lyrium while strangers were near. I may have a healthy love of spectacle, but that’s outside even my métier.

Well. Sometimes you have rats in the cellar, sometimes you have murderous dwarves in the bedroom. Just depends on your infestation, I guess.

Toby’s come to tug at my pants leg. You don’t need to go outside again, it’s still early. Ah, I hear Varric in the foyer. Now we’ll get somewhere!

Later

The Vimmark Mountains, Varric says, from some notes he uncovered that we missed. Worse, he’s heard from some of his contacts who deal with the Wardens that some of these—these creepy dwarf murderers have been lurking near Stroud’s camps at the base of the mountains as well.

If they’re going after Carver, I’ll scorch every hill and rise bald until the last of them’s flushed into the daylight.

Blood of the hawk. If that’s what they’re after, Andraste, I’ll bring them every last drop.

[shadowdianne]

Hi! I have prompt request. Could you do one where Emma & Regina are not yet together but both are already secretly in love w/ each other. Emma is staying over at Regina's house for some reason and then finds out that Regina sleep walks. Not freaky but cute. Of course it leads to more cuteness between them. :)

Thank you for the prompt!

I decided to use the same basis I did for anolder prompt called “Pillow talk”. The roots of that one where that Emma hadcalled the wedding off at the alter with Regina taking her in for the night asStorybrooke mulled on what had happened. The fic followed them both talking andRegina falling asleep next to Emma only to wake up next morning with herhugging her close. I’ve decided to take a look on what happened that precisenight. And if you want to read that older prompt link is up above! 😉

I hope you like it!

Eyesopening slowly with bits of sleep still clinging to her eyelids, Emma searchedalmost immediately for the distant warmth that permeated the sheets next toher, her arm finding nothing but an empty wrinkled space where Regina’s bodyshould have been. Frowning and still half-asleep, the blonde put her weight onher left elbow, raising above the bed’s surface and looking at the room inwhich Regina had walked her in a few hours ago, Hook’s screams and shockedglances still pullulating the back of her mind.

Now,however, she forced herself out of those memories, eyes zeroing on the ajar doorthat she knew Regina had closed before she had finally agreed on sleeping nextto her, keeping the nightmares at bay. A decision that even tear-stricken andtired, had surprised Emma as much as it had pleased her, blush warming the backof her neck and ears as she had felt the dip on the mattress. Still, now the mattresswas empty of the former Queen and no sounds echoed from beyond the door.

Swingingher legs and sitting at the bed’s edge, Emma stared for a moment to the emptyspot on her finger, the rush she felt on her body momentarily dazing her beforeshe stood completely, trying to find something on the almost completely darkroom; shadows and vague lumps her only guide as she walked past the bed, herright palm curling around the door’s handle and pulling it completely open.

Thecorridor, as she soon discovered, was just as empty and, for a moment, shealmost wondered if everything was nothing but a vivid dream. One that she wouldbe awoken soon enough by a cranky Regina, one that would look at her in thesame hurting surprise that her parents had directed at them when she had shakenher head and said “no” to a quickly irate man. Shaking her head, she tip-toedoutside the room and down the hall until she reached the staircase railing,everything just as quiet as before.

Swallowing,she called for her magic, the feeling still strange despite the many times shehad already done it in the past. Sluggish, as if it was just as sleepy as Emmafelt, dirty-white colored sparks glimmered around her for a moment. The lack ofan actual idea, however, created a fog that quickly fell to her feet. Forgoingthe magic, right foot slowly coming forward, the blonde shivered at the contactof the cooler surface of the stair, her hand never letting go the actual railingas she began to descend as slowly as possible.

There, fora flicker, a scent reached her nose, sliding down her throat and covering theback of her mouth in an almost flavor that made Emma’s mind conjure up purpleand fiery eyes.

“Regina.”

And indeed,she was, standing just slightly at the right of the stairs, facing the diningroom with her hair obscuring her face from where Emma was standing, still inthe middle of the staircase.

Swallowing,Emma opened her mouth, ready to call Regina again, stronger this time, when sherealized that the brunette’s magic, the one that seemed to have called on heras she was sleeping, seemed to be instinctual, flickering lights that had nopurpose just like Emma’s own. Which, she thought as she took the final steps,wasn’t something Regina would do.

Movingcloser, she finally reached the still brunette, the sparks letting her approachthe other woman as they set on her skin, embedding themselves on it beforedisappearing in a burst of light. Clearing her throat, she tried again, raisingher hand and, after a moment of hesitation, touching the older woman’s forearm.

“Regina?”

This time,as silence rolled off them, Emma found the slack face of Regina staring back ather, nothing but calmness pictured on her facial muscles. Almost as if she wasasleep.

Sleep-walking.The notion attached to Regina felt so strange Emma almost laughed as she keptstaring at Regina’s dazed face. Covering her own mouth and gulping down thegasped laugh, the blonde frowned, remembering all the times she had read thatunder no circumstances a sleep-walker should be awakened forcefully. And themany other times that had idea had been refuted.

Lookingdown, at her Regina’s hands fell limp at both sides of her body, Emma eyed themagic that cracked around the woman’s wrists, the flickering rivulets alwaystransforming from smoke to electricity to almost dripping, the power unable totruly stay stable as Regina kept on dreaming.

Perhaps,Emma thought, worry beginning to settle over the pit of her stomach, if shemerely called her again…

Movingcloser, close than they usually were from each other, Emma parted her lips, hertongue rising higher on the roof of her mouth, tip of the tongue reaching thesmall ridge just behind her teeth, the “r” sound rolling out of her tonguesoftly, just barely there, as she called for the woman one more time, callingfor her own magic while at it, clumsily sending a wave of what she hoped wouldbe calmness from her arm, her hand, her fingers, into the other woman’s arm.

“Regina.”

With a gasp,Regina’s entire body trembled, purple sparks quickly disappearing and forming aconvoluted fog that dissolved just as well as the older woman finally moved, agasped “Emma?” reaching the blonde’s ears.

“If I hadknown I would be turning you into a sleep walker I would have thought twicebefore calling the whole wedding off.”

The joke,albeit flat, made Regina shake her head, the webs of sleep and uneasiness clingingto her frame as she looked around, an “oh” escaping her mouth as she realizedwhere she was.

“I’m…”

“It’s okay.”Emma interrupted, pointing at the chairs on the dining room, not knowing ifRegina would feel like going back to bed just yet. “Your magic woke me up. Ithink.”

Blinking,Regina followed her blandly, a doubt on her usual assuredness that only madeitself more obvious as Emma quickly pointed to the nearest chair.

“Are youokay?” The blonde’s question felt stupid the second Emma heard it out loud, theobvious answer hanging between the two of them as Regina sat as primly as ever,one arm crossed over her midsection in yet another move that felt way too outof character from her.

“I’m sorry.”The brunette finally said, and Emma could see there the glimpse of the Reginashe knew, already rebuilding from what Emma had gotten a peek from the momentthe woman had woken up again. “Magic, it’s been a while since this happened.”

And Emmacouldn’t sense a ping on that, no lie detector chiming even if there wassomething else, something more, hanging on Regina’s tired smile. The kind ofone Emma felt a sudden longing from.

“Want to goto sleep?” Her words came out rougher than intended but Regina didn’t seem toregister it as she stood, nodding already.

Followingsuit, Emma stood and aimed for the stairs, only stopping when Regina called forher, a carefully look on those brown eyes that due to the hazy color spectrumof whites, blacks and greys lacked their usual shade.

“Thank you.”The brunette smiled, crookedly, and Emma blinked at it, at the softness thatradiated from the older woman. Maybe, she thought, she hadn’t lost everything.Not like she had originally thought. Opening her mouth again, Regina halted fora millisecond, her voice lower now. “For waking me up.”

“Of course.”The reply felt strange and obvious on Emma’s mouth, but she still said it witha smile, one she wasn’t sure Regina saw as she hummed and walked past her, herhand grazing hers, magic still powerful on her veins to call forwards Emma’s ina toe-curling feeling the blonde felt wholly unprepared for. Blindly, shereached for the older woman’s retreating hand but didn’t quite managed to touchher, her own muscles stilling a second too early.

“Let’s go tobed.” She muttered under her breath, walking towards the stairs, hand back onthe railing until they were both in front of the bedroom the brunette hadoffered Emma, the realization that Regina didn’t truly had a reason to keep onsleeping next to Emma suddenly seeming to reach them both.

And maybeit was because she still could feel magic curling inside of her, touching,reaching for her, but Emma felt selfish, selfish enough to ask, to wonder.

“Please.”The word escaped Emma’s mouth too quickly and as Regina stared at her Emmawondered for a second time if she wasn’t dreaming this, if this wasn’t really true.An even as Regina sighed and nodded, a careful look on her eyes, a hidden,private conversation neither of them were ready to talk about glowing on theway her eyes avoided Emma’s own, she still felt a second away from opening hereyes, finding herself back on the bed, nothing changed from the last time shehad go to sleep.

Still, shewatched as Regina entered into the room, beckoning her to her with one glanceas she sat on the very same side of the bed that had been empty when Emma hadopened her own eyes mere minutes before.

And so,Emma complied, slipping into the already cool sheets and staring at the ceilingin a futile attempt to fall asleep.

Which sheeventually must have done as she could only vaguely remember a mutter, another “thankyou”, pressed into her temple in the form of a maybe too long caress she foundherself turning to, seeking its warmth. When morning finally rolled by, shefound Regina against her body, arms around her waist as she herself spooned theolder woman closer, content, far too content to move away.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

The Last Jedi: What I Disliked About One of the Most Fascinating Films Ever Made

The Last Jedi is probably one of the most controversial films ever made for a lot of reasons. This movie did a LOT of shit, a lot of shit that would piss people off. Hell, it even pissed ME off. But when I see people on the internet frothing at the mouth and calling this movie the worst shit pile to ever exist, the most offensive thing Star Wars has ever produced, and threatening the director with death and calling him a soulless piece of shit bastard… I’m pretty inclined to defend the movie. Frankly, anyone who reacts THIS negatively to TLJ is an utter braindead moron; you do realize you can dislike a film without being completely, insanely hyperbolic, yeah? Again, there’s a lot I hate in this movie too, and I’m gonna talk about it shortly, but in a franchise with Jar-Jar, the holiday special, and vast swaths of the Legends continuity, is this seriously the worst this franchise has had to offer? If you answer anything other than “No,” congratulations, I’d say you’re about the same mental capacity as people who think Watto is some sort of offensive Jewish caricature.

But as much as I would love to spend an entire post insulting all the whiny bastards in the Star Wars fandom, I have more pressing matters: criticizing stuff in The Last Jedi. And boy do I have a lot to criticize. I actually did review the movie a while back, and while I stand by my initial thoughts, I gotta go into more detail about what I didn’t like. However, before continuing, I want to make one thing  absolutely clear:

I think The Last Jedi is a genuinely good movie. Maybe not GREAT per se, as I have more criticisms for it than just about any other film in the series, but excellence is just so wholly ingrained into the DNA of Star Wars theatrical films that even at their most divisive they still have some level of charm. And at any rate, this movie is a hell of a lot more interesting than Rogue One. I’d say out of the newer films, this one sits behind Solo. Anyway, let’s get on to the main event… here are all my issues with The Last Jedi, presented alphabetically, and with lots of spoilers:

Canto Bright: This is probably the most annoying waste of time in the entire film, a blatant and obnoxious stretch of padding the runtime. Nothing that happens in the entirety of this subplot is truly important in the grand scheme of things; the only relevant bit of plot is that they find DJ, and this could have been done a lot quicker. This wouldn’t be so bad if they had made Canto Bright a bit more interesting, but it just feels like another attempt to rehash Mos Eisley’s cantina. It also doesn’t help this part of the film has blatant, unsubtle moralizing and cuts away from far more interesting plotlines that get much less development, particularly Rey training with Luke.

Ditching Kylo’s Motivation: In The Force Awakens, Kylo was motivated by a sort of misaimed admiration for his grandfather, where he viewed Vader as someone to emulate and who he looked to as he struggled between the light side and the dark side. All of this helped make him rather intriguing, as well as making him a very intentional Darth Vader clone character; his whole purpose was to emulate Vader, after all. All of this is ditched close to the start of The Last Jedi, and the Kylo in this film feels almost entirely different to the one seen previously. While I did like Kylo Ren  a lot more in this movie, I wish they didn’t completely rewrite his character and ditch everything established in favor of what they did. It could have easily been worked into how he acted in the film.

Finn’s Diminished Importance: After being something of the star of the last film, complete with a noticeable character arc and a lot of focus, Finn kinda gets shafted here, relegated to a shitty, unnecessary sideplot that leads the heroes nowhere. It just seems really weird, though I’m not unhappy Rey got more focus and was fleshed out better.

Holdo: While I tend to view people who write her off as “The purple-haired feminist bitch” or “Captain SJW” as inferior human beings – and they are, seriously, if you unrironically say shit like this you’re a drooling nincompoop – I really can’t deny in the slightest that Holdo was written rather poorly. She really is a poor excuse for a captain, openly lying to her underlings and keeping things secret when explaining the plan would have effected nothing except her entire crew’s compliance. It almost feels like this plot was written so we’d be on Poe’s side, but it works a bit too well by making Holdo far too arrogant, stupid, and haughty to really get behind. If not for her awesome heroic sacrifice  (one that might not have been needed in the first place if she’d been more honest but hey) I’d probably list her as one of the worst Star Wars characters ever… but a heroic sacrifice of this magnitude,  no matter how unearned it may seem, never fails to impress me.

Killing Snoke: I can kinda see what they were going for, seeing as Palpatine as well was killed with very little revealed about him in The Last Jedi… but we have now had several years worth of canonical prequel material to flesh him out, and it’s honestly pretty stupid to assume you can pull off the same trick in a franchise twice and expect it to go off as well. Snoke was unflinchingly cool, creepy, and badass, so his bisection comes across as a waste of a truly intriguing villain. That there may be prequels detailing who he was do little to ease the sting of Andy Serkis being built up as the big bad only to be cut down. At least in Black Panther he got more substantial screentime; here,  he’s s till cool, but it just feels like there is so much more he could have been.

Luke’s Attempted Murder: While overall I loved Luke’s characterization in this film and how it tied excellently into the theme of not deifying your heroes due to the trouble that can cause, it’s hard for me to rationalize Luke’s attempted murder of his own nephew, leading to Kylo Ren’s turn to the dark side. While Luke has always been a bit impulsive, this man believed he could redeem Darth Vader, AND DID SO. Need I remind you what Anakin did to those younglings? And yet his own nephew, he won’t give him the benefit of the doubt. Yes, he did stop himself, but the very fact he went in there lightsaber ready to cut down the child of his sister and his best friend just feels really jarring and out of place, even within his more cynical characterization.

Phasma: Phasma has come across as a forced Boba Fett replacement since The Force Awakens, to the point where in both films she has appeared in she has been completely and utterly outshined by mooks – Nines (AKA TR-8R) in TFA and the Praetorian Guard in this one. Despite her getting a ton of fascinating backstory and depth in  canonical supplementary material, literally none of that is ever showcased even slightly in this film, and after a short, underwhelming fight scene, she apparently falls to her death. Sure, she COULD have survived, but this still feels like a rather big waste of the character. For someone they hyped up so much, the way she is handled really feels undignified.

Rey’s Parents: I’m not gonna lie, this reveal is stupid in and of itself, but the stupider thing is that a lot of people seem to be taking it at face value. When was it collectively decided we should trust the creepy, evil Sith lord who has made it perfectly clear he wants control over Rey? Why are we taking Kylo’s word that Rey’s parents were drunks who sold their kids as FACT? Honestly it just seems like a further ploy to manipulate her more than anything.

Reylo: While it isn’t canon as of yet, this movie really hammers in a bunch of hints for the obnoxiously popular ship between heroine Rey and antagonist Kylo Ren. And, quite frankly, I absolutely fucking hate this ship, but probably for a lot different reasons than most people. Do I think it’s shipping abuse? No, I don’t think it’s that any more than I think any other hero-villain ship is. Do I think Kylo doesn’t deserve to be redeemed by Rey? That’s not it either; the entire premise of this franchise is that any person can be redeemed. Kylo Ren is really no exception, though considering he killed my favorite character I’d be happy to see his ass beat. No, I hate it because I just absolutely hate the trope, if it even is one, of the hero redeeming the villain through romantic love. I feel like it would cheapen Rey’s character, and just turn the entire new trilogy into an overly long romantic drama. All the heavy-handed hints towards this pairing is just gag worthy, and frankly I’m going to be annoyed if they ruin both of these characters by going through with it.

Rose: Rose is without a doubt in my mind the worst character in the entire franchise. This seems like a rather tall order considering her competition, but consider this: her biggest contributions to the plot are the Canto Bright plotline, the absolute worst part of the film… and stopping Finn from performing a badass heroic sacrifice that might have saved the heroes a lot of trouble, delivering the stupidest line  in Star Wars history, kissing Finn, and fainting. She’s just utterly pointless to the point she feels like someone’s OC from a fanfic where they get with Finn was slipped into the script.

Wasting DJ: So you get Benicio Del Toro,  and you put him in your movie. Great so far, good. He does some weird accent and makes the character have a quirky personality, still good. You give him a very morally ambiguous personality and show the shades of grey in this idealistic universe that leans towards black vs. white most of the time, excellent, awesome! AND THEN… he betrays the heroes and vanishes from the film. What. DJ didn’t die, and he could come back… but he just feels shoehorned in and just doesn’t really reach his full potential whatsoever. He was such an interesting idea, and they just did the bare minimum with him.

Despite all of this crap, though… The Last Jedi still manages to be awesome. Holdo’s final sacrifice, the Kylo Ren and Rey fight against the Praetorian Guards, Yoda’s surprise appearance, Luke’s final battle… Hell, I even liked seeing Leia finally use the Force by flying through space with it; as cheesy as it is, it left me floored when I saw it in theaters. Then, of course, there’s that epic opening space battle… there’s just a lot to love here. In particular, my favorite moment is probably Luke becoming one with the Force. Maybe it’s not my MOST favorite moment, but it just feels so poignant and important, with his final moments mirroring the start of his journey, as he gazes into twin suns one last time before joining his teachers and father. It just… it gets to you, you know? I may have a LOT of issues with this movie, and a lot of stuff I didn’t really like in it, but more than any other movie I have so many issues with, I like and even RESPECT this film. You can say a lot of things about this movie, but one thing you can’t say is that it’s dull. It sparks discussion, and debate, and obnoxiously hyperbolic worst-everism. At the end of the day, whether it’s good or bad doesn’t really matter. The only thing that matters is that this film just… IS. And one way or another people will have something to say about it. Just don’t be a hyperbolic douche about it and try and enjoy things, you know?

[typologycentral]

[Fi] Bloody Fi purge! Your inferior cousin needs some dominant and auxiliary guidance.

To preface: I love you XNFPs and unbeknownst to me, always have. For one, it's been edifying and validating to see some of my all-time favorite humans (writers, musicians, actors, thinkers, etc...) being typed as XNFP. Even before learning about typology and gaining a deeper understanding of Jungian cognitive functions, I was actively working on (what I now know to be) Fi development because a lack of it had reaped much unnecessary hardship onto my life. Therefore, I think that conscientious journey led me to people that embodied their Fi with vigor and authenticity and helped me get in touch with my own, for which I am eternally grateful. And now on to the issue at hand (this is a long read but I'm trying to give relatively detailed information that might help you to help me): For a little under a decade, since high school, I've had an on and off, pseudo-platonic, quasi-romantic, eternal soulmate, occasional f-buddy relationship with this ebullient, effervescent, deeply insightful, dreamy eyed, pixie warrior priestess (INFP) that, in my relatively short life, has always stood a mile apart from the "Gone Girl/Cersei Lannister/Elle Driver/Cookie Lyon/Harley Quinn/Akasha, Queen of the Damned" fare I've usually attracted [strike]...and been equally attracted to[/strike]. Our first interaction was a classroom debate turned bloodstained duel to the death over the ethics of eating animals (I swear on the atom, this is not a utilization of an NFP stereotype lol). Something clicked (energy + angst + lust + social isolation + troubled pasts), and from there, this happened > I'd never before intimately known someone who had the chasm of incongruously layered emotionality she possessed--ostensibly she experienced feelings in a plethora of shades from eggshell, hunter green, and cobalt blue to neon yellow and not only that, could verbalize them as such. Meanwhile, I only had ready access to basic black, white, red (all degrees of rage), grey, and at my best, a metallic gold. Though wholly confounding, maddening and taxing to me, I had never felt more woke and unchained and set free. It was intoxicating to experience a wider array, a more diverse palette of feelings. I obviously never reached her depths, patterns and colors, but even experiencing a trifle more than I was previously accustomed to felt like a massive, tectonic plate moving, internal shift. She saw me shed an actual, solitary tear once under extreme duress but in better times, just by staring into my eyes and smiling on a whim she could easily make me mist up with soul purifying relief, which was a gargantuan, almost incomprehensible feat for lesser mortals and I truly honestly never before felt so connected to someone on a level that was nigh impossible to articulate in a rational way. And particularly when she was sad and grieving (probably because of me), which often left me feeling inadequate because I was too emotionally dumb and powerless to effectively help--which, in and of itself, beset me with very real, very potent, personal "trigger" landmines. Especially back then, I neither spoke of nor experienced emotions with great affect. I understood them cognitively and intellectually, but to actually engage them with my "heart" felt like a blind man wading neck-deep in cement. My take on our biggest, most immediate problem aside from all the other reasons this union was likely to fail? We just spoke completely different cognitive "languages (Ni vs Si? Dom Fi vs Inferior Fi? Dom Te vs. Inferior Te?)" that always created endless communication gaffs, roadblocks and nuclear disasters. For example: Pixie: "Did I see you at Starbucks earlier today with Cersei f%#king Lannister when you were supposed to be at a study group?" Me: "That was the study group." Pixie: *heart imploding with the force of a billion suns* "Why didn't you tell me that?" Me: *blistering dispassion with a hint of exasperated bemusement* "Look, our past relationship is just that, in the past. You have nothing to feel insecure about. It was harmless, only work. You know I love you." Pixie: "That's not what I asked you! Stop lying and trying to hide and sugarcoat things! You know I hate that brother f%#king bitch! Why didn't you tell me you were going to see her? Me: *voice box shredding like the Hulk's Capri pants* "Because that was fucking irrelevant. She was put in a group with me! Her strategy to double-cross Dany and Jon will fall to shit, for Christ sakes. Are you happy now? You always focus on the wrong thing!" She always wanted to know the exact details behind what actually happened in a very direct, matter of fact way (perhaps to refine the many possibilities she generated for why I would withhold supposedly important information from her), whereas I always instinctively and immediately went to why I did something or the "why" concerning the underlying problem, because the "why," the deeper meaning (should and theoretically, in my mind) supersedes anything else, and especially when problem solving and coming up with a viable solution imo. Ultimately, it just didn't work. Idiotically yet idealistically, we wouldn't let that stop us. We broke up and got back together a few times before deciding that we were better off as this nebulous, ill defined glob of corrupted love and unresolved daddy/mommy abandonment issues that maybe one day might actually not fall apart at the seams just as it's getting good again. The whole idea and its subsequent execution was dysfunctional, unhealthy, ridiculous and plain ol stupid, but I gather this was us trying to be intense, brooding and deep. Dunno exactly. We'd go on to see other people and sometimes, in between relationships, link up again. Usually we couldn't reach a year and a half before we wound up back in the other's arms/bed. Moving on. She experienced a tragedy (by her standards) about 3 years ago while I was literally on the opposite side of the planet and whereas I would've normally come flying to her aid with an S on my chest, I made the conscious choice not to. Already enduring my ascent to power (lol) being stifled because of my brokedown Fi usage as it pertains to my burgeoning career, I resented yet another unwieldy force (Pixie) possessing that type of influence over me as well; I defiantly chose self-interest above anyone or anything else (like I'm instinctively wont to do, right or wrong, good or bad). She kept trying to reach me to the point of flooding all of our communication channels with emotional spam (from childish antics to vile, unforgivable diatribes). After a while, I felt bad, decided to reach out to her but was ignored for 2.5 years straight. That had never happened before--it broke our unspoken rule, which devastated me more than I realized. I grieved (rather poorly by over-utilizing Se), but eventually tucked it away, moved on and focused on work. I figured we were never meant to be anyway but that I would still love her (from afar) and wish her the best regardless. Lo and behold, she called me last night out of nowhere, drunkenly seeping concentrated pain, spewing regret, betrayal, rejection, abandonment, hatred and then love for me. She says, through tears, that she's still in love with me and wants to know if there's any chance for an "us." I felt terrible and thoroughly confused. I tried to listen and be supportive (my Te is completely inept at properly addressing/handling others' intense feelings)--I just don't naturally "speak" emotions in an unforced, compassionate, empathetic, organic manner. I'm better than I used to be but I was blindsided, taken aback and don't think I did much good. Honestly, I don't need or want this in my life right now; I'm so engrossed in my work and achieving my goals and going by what she was saying over the phone, she's still stuck in past patterns of dysfunction. I don't want that anymore. But I truly do care for her and want her to be well and happy--just not with me and not right now, at least. I hate that she is suffering but I don't know what, if anything, I should/could do to remedy this. And now, finally, here are my questions to you smart, capable, helpful people*/**: 1. When you are expressing your feelings (whether "good" or "bad"), what is the best way to respond to this that will make you feel heard, understood and validated? 2. When overcome with negative feelings that seem too powerful and unrelenting, how do you self-soothe (using safe + legal methods)? 3. Is there anyway I can speak my truth and tell her honestly where I'm at and what I want at this point in my life without further hurting her? Should I do it regardless or is it better to wait for when she's more stable? 4. Tangent, now that I have you > How do you know what you value? (Is that a stupid question? lol) I think I know what I value ("money-power-respect," knowledge, meaning/substance, fairness, justice, individuality) but it can be hard to finesse on the spot (when asked) and not come off as crude and unrefined. Do you spend a lot of time going over in your mind what is meaningful and significant to you, or do you just know somehow? (like how I seemingly "know" and intuit stuff via introverted intuition) To those who made it all the way to the end, thank you. I would really really really really appreciate some help. I have very few people in my life I trust to give me strong emotions related advice and none of them are XNFPs. Their emotions are just as trash and poorly developed as mine are. lol *Obviously, there are a multitude of ways that people respond to these things that exclude type but I'm looking for any and all variations, particularly from XNFPs and anyone else who can provide insight. **And I will shamelessly bump this thread until I obtain the breadth of insight I seek. :shrug: https://www.typologycentral.com/forums/showthread.php?t=93755&goto=newpost&utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[kendrixtermina]

Voltron Cast vs. Personality types

Feel free to add & correct

Lance

Very Clearly ESxx. He’s practically “Extrovert problems” incarnate, poor boi, just wants to be liked & accepted.  

I’d say he has some Fe there but the degree of inappropriate jokes vs value judgements/policing suggests tertiary rather than dominant. ESTP then. 

Pretty much that common Fi PolR/ Fe tert problem of not realizing your own inclinations & opinions of yourself “count” & therefore  looking for external validation a lot. Adding to that is his crazy aim & knack for planning sneaky strategies on the fly, also he once mentioned he has a hard time sleeping if he gets all pumped off, having so much energy it needs to be burned off is a common Se dom issue, as is his concern with looks, status & “finer pleasures” & his competitive streak.

He’s an inert subtype, and enneagram wise he’s such an obvious 3w2 someone who never saw the show could tell just from me reblogging posts about him. He keeps making up roles for himself to play (”cool ninja sharpshooter”) & hoping they catch on with the others, though there’s also an angle of wanting to contribute & be needed. 

imma venture soc/sx but im not adamant on this.  Sanguine classic. 

Also very obvious oldham Inventive with sprinklings of Devoted and Dramatic. He’s also a dead-ringer Mercury-Venus. Also probably Thunderbird.

Gryffindor or Hufflepuff tho? There would probaby be hatstall, but ultimately I feel he would be a “grow into it” Gryffindor. 

The Red Lion only takes them Gryffindors BTW. Come on. Bravery? honor? No self-preservation? Likewise, the green Lion only takes Ravenclaws and the Yellow one only takes hufflepuffs. The recipe is probably more complicated with the other two tho. 

Hunk

The most obvious ISFJ to ever SiFe. 

He’s cautious & prefers the familiar, a good judge of character & may need to see things with their own eyes to grasp their full scope, but also has a big heart cares a lot. Hasthat “inferior Ne panic reaction” too. 

You kinda also see the “dexterous/practical” side of Si with his being a mechanic. The makers have described the contrast between him and pidge as the “figure it out & think it up” side of engineering vs the “buid it & make it work” side of it  which is basically N vs. S in a nutshell. 

Inert Subtype. Pudwudkie Hufflepuff. Nuff said. A 9w1, probably, though with a notable 6w5 fix. sp/soc. Phlegmatic. Venus. Clearly has some Sensitive style in him but he’s not all that shy & fluttery so there’s probably some stabilizing influence there. Not wholly sure if it’s some Leisurely or something else

Allura

Preddy much ESTJ. Brave, dutiful, action-oriented, bossy, fortright, yells a lot, can be rigid sometimes, we know the drill.   

Contact subtype. Mars-Jupiter af. srly that’s just a holistic sumup of her character.  Choleric. (ChlorSan prolly) 2w1  soc/sp? I do think soc  is right & she does have that “politcian-y” quality.  

She’s ever the altrustic helper ready to put her life in danger, insists they answer every distress call,  and has this ‘diplomatic important organization leader’ thing going on that social 2s do.The w1 also manifests as back & white or oversimple thinking at times.

Oldham wise it’s hard, something of a pronounced mixed/intereference pattern with both Self-Sacrifcing and Aggressive in the mix.

Wampus.  I see why someone might say Slytherin but I’m sticking with Gryffindor for now.

Pidge

This one is kinda easy.

INTP 5w6. Ravenclaw. Horned Serpent. Lunar. sp/soc. IDK bout vertical subtype but she rambles/blurts more than she snarks/criticises so I’m saying contact. 

Less sure ‘bout oldham though there’s probably some Vigilant, though not, like, sharp excess.

Imma run with melancholic b/c she’s definitely not pure Phlegmatic or Supine. MelPhleg perhaps. 

Shiro

Apparently there has been a case of “the fan-favorite is always INFJ” (TF?) but I think most of us will agree that he has Te - he’s goot at handing out tasks, managing people, coming up with courses of action...

He rocks that tert Fi too in that he’s a good listener & tries to further the other’s personal developement. 

We often think of natural leaders as extroverts but ISTJ is prolly the introvert most likely to become head-of-state. He just fits the overall patterns of ISTJ: Dilligent, put-together (when he can help it), great integrity, perceptive with details & able to use comparision with past experiences to kick butt in the present (Like when he timed the Sentry Drones’ rounds), though he does’t have the elbowy agression/striving of other TJ-types, and he’s a morning person too. 

He’s probably a contact subtype. Temperament wise he’d be one of those few where I’d be tempted to call ‘balanced/Leukine’, but if I didn’t I’d say ChlorPhleg comes the closest.  1w9 af, prolly sp/soc with a degree of both personalperfectionism & mentoring others present, and also feeling overly responsible for everything. 

Oldham wise an obvious conscientious type. 

While he’d sure have some gryffindor potential, his firm belief in teamwork & humility would probaby land him in Hufflepuff.- Think Cedric Diggory who was also a sort of prodigy. Though he is probably also very much a Wampus.

Also, he’s a classic, archetypical pure Saturn type. Actually, I believe at least partially saturnyne personalities are the Black Lion’s thing. Still not sure how Blue’s could be quantified, apart from possibly favoring extroverts, but that’s probably by design. 

Keith

Mai Spicy Boi! . 

I’m just gonna flat out say that he cannot be anything other than a contact subtype Se auxillary. Just look at all that Se! That’s about as much of the stuff as you can possibly cram into an introvert. 

He’s got sharp senses & reflexes, often reacts to opportunities, observations and impressions in the moment (and very often it’s a deliberate risk that works out - he’s not just “hotheaded” or “not thinking”, but he’s thinking about things to do or investigate, not so much what happens next. ) & improvised, didn’t really have longterm plans after flunking out, He also very much has the ‘decisive’ and agressive side of Se though I wouldn’t call him dominant. 

And I’m saying ISTP over ISFP b/c the Se itself seems a sufficient explanation for his reactive nature,and then there’s general lack of people skills, solitary mode of operation & difficulty with group work (not a shred of Te not even inferior) 

Also, when he’s actually thinking rather than just waltzing in guns blazing, he very much has task-oriented, detached impersonal reasoning  “But can we afford to save the princess? It’s not about the glory. The cause is bigger than any of us.” He’s also very much the cynic of the group or the one most inclined to see things in shades of grey rather than black & whites. 

I doublechecked this to make sure I’m not just assuming him to be a Ti dom b/c he’s my fav character, but ‘ISTP’ really seem to summarize his character & much of the metas written about him very well.

Soo... is he a cp 6? a sp4? An 8? Probably all of those, they don’t call that the “tripple reactive” tritype for nothing but coretype wise I’d put him very much in the action triad as a 8w7, that’s not even all that uncommon for ISTPs. He’s also very distinctly soc blind,(which may explain why he doesn’t really manifest the dominant part of the 8, but he’s very much got the every-man-for-himself, rely-on-no-one rebel part of it, as well as the characteristic problem with backing down/shelving arguments though the other fixes, again, don’t help.  ) not sure if sx/sp or sp/sx, on the one hand he’s...tempestuous, on the other he spent a year as a desert hermit and found itpleasantly calm, at least in part, so if pressed I’d go with sp/sx, also because of his tedency to hold himself apart from the group somewhat without much indication that it’s a conscious choice. 

Oldham wise he’s got some adventurous & some vigilant but also some sort of more emotionally juicy counterpoint to that without which he’d have a lot more hostile unconcern. He’s not clingy enough for Mercurial tho so I’m vaguely at a loss. 

He’s got some more maturity to acquire there but I do think there’s very much a Saturn-Mars underneath it all. Certainly NOT as thought-through as a pure saturn and with no shortage on the action but he does have momentzs of somberness and nuanced understanding.  Very much fits both the archetype of the ‘rugged doer’ and the ‘powerful, cause-oriented person’. though he still has some work to do on the ‘inspiring others’ part. 

Gryffindor, no 2 ways about it. (Some have suggested Slytherin because he’s the “edgy” one but honestly I don’t see that at all. He has zero interest in personal glory or the ‘in-group’ & doesn’t seem to think of himself as special though he would very much have the grounds to do so.) 

The real question is: Wampus or Thunderbird tho?

Coran

Clearly has both Ne (wackyness and quirkyness) and Si (storytime! “Proper” Traditionalist), and too much for either to be the inferior. 

Since he doesn’t seem like a Ne auxillary, that leaves us with ESFJ by principle of exclusion, like he kinda has the chattynes & is always helping with everything & taking all the duties. Probably a contact subtype. 

Hufflepuff for similar reasons. IDK bout Ilvermony but he does have an adventurous side that did shenanigans with the previous paladins, so probably Thunderbird. 

Out of the enneagram types that commonly occur in ExSJ, 9 seems the likeliest, he’s nor dramatic enough for a core type in the emotional triad. I’d say he also has a 7w6 fix somewhere. Also he’s probably soc-first... and in hindsight actualy acts alot like a textbook social 9, working a lot to support the community while not taking the spotlight himself. 

Oldham wise I’d postulate a Dramatic-Devoted mix.

Essence type made me think for a bit i had several inconclusive kneejerk reactions but imma stick with Jupiter for now.

Zarkon

Well, another ESTJ, prolly an inert subtype tho. 

Pretty much your standard evil overlord/ Te dom villain, though he’s more an enforcer than someone who does a lot of lecturing like when he does it’s usually to-the-point, plus he was sorta repressed in his youth & seemingly a strict traditionalist. 

Also a very obvious Aggressive type (complete with the comon constellation where the spouse can deal with & accept that that but the kid’s can’t & regular teenage rebellion ends in dramatic estrangement), like, he would not be questioned even by his best friend even long before he went nuts enough to randomly murder ppl for talking back to him.

You could deem him an  8w9 and a Saturn for similar reasons though he evidently incorporates the more negative aspects of that... though he did have a “protective-responsible” side before things got too sour.

Ovsly Slytherin (& wampus), methinks the whole imperial family would be one those dynastic Slytherin families for all their differences. 

Haggar

I found her hard to get a read on for the first two seasons, but with the backstory reveal I think I can conclude INTx, see the whole lightning speech & the whole “Think of the Potential!” attitude, also her being a misanthropic cat lady & sassing Alfor to his face (”customary gesture”) way before things went all sour.

I am less sure here, but out of the two options INTP is more likely because I think I see more indications for SiFe than for FiSe. Her present day self is markedly more cautious than she was in her younger days. She minimally toys with her victims for effect (Poor Shiro) and has this pretty honest devotion & concern for Zarkon, though she seems content subordinating herself to him, though she has this dourish Si-Ti bubble-popping, “Yeah sure but be cautious” attitude especially in interaction with Lotor & Zarkon.  

Beyond that, i’d say that she is a very clearly an inert subtype, a Serious-primary and probably some fashion of 5w6 (by principle of exclusion). Slytherin & Horned Serpent. What else would a mad science shadow empress space witch possbly be? Might be Lunar but don’t really have a good read there

Lotor

Some kind of NF, ENFJ if I had to guess. Not his father indeed, though still quite ExxJ. He has the charme, he has a planning, analytic quality underneath, but while he had ambition the more fundamental motivation seems to be to enarn recognition to prove himself.

sx/soc 7, glorious, extra with lots of plumage, certainly very self-interested when it comes down but you could totally picture him just chilling with his henchladies & preferring a ‘personal’ environment/inner circle though he can totally work crowds like clay. 

Self-Confident with a tinge of Exuberant perhaps. 

Slytherin Thunderbird. 

Perhaps what an antagonistic Solar Type looks like. He’s got charme, he’s got loftiness and big goals he works hard to accomplish and little hesitation to put his own person out on the field  but he’s sorta the very opposite of naive, very much a planner and going all road runner on poor Keith. Come to think of it,one could make a good case for him as a Solar-Saturn. 

As for the Generals/henchladies we’ve only seen bits & pieces of them so far all we can really tell is that Narti and Acxa are introverts while Zethrid and Ezor are extroverts, but Imma risk a guess based on rough vibes/ intuition:

Ezor: ESFP Narti: ISTP Acxa: ISTJ Zethrid: ESTJ

[simone-garnett]

title: i see your true colours shining through (and that’s why i love you) rating: mature word count: 6150 pairing: archieronnie infomation: soulmate au where you can’t see colour until you kiss your soulmate on the lips.            ao3   //   ffn

She hears him before she sees him.

His voice is like a punch to the stomach, winding her. Veronica stops immediately, a statue in a crowd, people pushing their way past her, away from him. As though it were possible to ignore such beauty, such tragedy. She can hear the brokenness in his voice, the soft crooning of heartache and pain, only accompanied by the strumming of the guitar. The words wrap themselves around her heart, the voice etching itself in her soul.

And she wonders what it would be to be loved like that - so wholly, so completely. So devastatingly.

She searches for the man whose heart was shattered into fragments, each shard cutting into her as she hears his story through his lyrics. There is so little beauty in a world only black and white and all the shades of grey in between, and what she is denied by colour she seeks in other aspects of life, and music - she finds it in music most of all. She wanders through the throng, pushing others aside as she swims through the sea of people, against the current and toward the broken soul that reverberated with her own.

And suddenly she is there, he is there. She finds him.

Her breath hitches as her gaze lands on him; it is a cliche and she hates them, but it is as if her world slows down, everything blurring around him. It is picture she'll never forget, his head tilted toward the sky, eyes closed as he sings of love lost, of struggling to get by. There is a magnetic pull, drawing her to him and she doesn't dream of resisting the pull. She stays there bewitched, captivated by it all.

He opens his eyes as he strums the last chord, widening as he sees her standing before him, a picture of perfection. He stutters in his movements, slinging the guitar behind himself, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from looking foolish in front of the beautiful young woman before him.

Because she was beautiful, incredibly so. And she held herself up with such poise that he could barely believe that the look on her face was for him and his voice. She looked in awe, eyes shining, lips pulled into a grin that left him feeling out of sorts.

"Veronica Lodge," she says, hand out for a handshake.

"Archie Andrews," he replies, taking her hand. He feels the electricity in his veins, the spark at their contact. He almost jolts at the touch, tingles remaining long after they let go.

"I have a feeling this is going to be a very good friendship." And he can't help but agree with her words.

She buys his time, asking him how much he would usually make in an hour and paying him double if he would just sit with her, talk to her if that was okay. He looks at her agape as she slides the cash into his hands, head nodding as he continues to stare. She cracks a joke, and it seems to break him out of his trance, Archie shoving the money into his pocket, slipping his guitar into the case.

He follows her into a restaurant he had only ever walked past, cheeks hot as he catches the maître d's judging gaze. But Veronica can sense his unease, snapping the attention back to herself, taking a protective step forward before the man she had only met ten minutes earlier. They are led to the back of the place, cozy and sweet and he doesn't know what to do with himself in a setting like this, with a beautiful girl like her. She was so different from everyone else from his past and yet he could see bits of everyone inside of her. She sits down, beaming at him as he places his guitar case by their feet, slipping into his own chair, eyes darting around. He jumps when the waiter slips a menu before them, eyes wide as he looks through it.

"Order anything, it's fine." Her voice breaks through the noise in his mind, the calculations running through it as he tries to figure out if he can afford anything. "It's on me." She winks at him, and he clears his throat in response, mouth dry.

"No, I - I couldn't," he manages to get out. There were meals on it he couldn't pronounce, figures he had never seen in his lifetime.

"Come on Archiekins, I paid for your time, I demand you eat." She nods as though it should be enough to convince him, and he follows her instructions, hesitantly pointing toward whatever seemed the most familiar to him when the waiter returned. He looks up from the menu, meeting her gaze, a smile

The meal is delivered in silence, and they are midway through the meal before Veronica drops her cutlery against the plate, the clatter getting his attention.

"So," she starts, voice dropping in a way that sends shivers down his spine. "Tell me about yourself." And so he does, talks about the small town of Riverdale where he grew up, talks about his best friends Betty and Jughead, about being ignored throughout most of his schooling life. (She laughs, rich and honest, at his words. He earnestly maintains he was never popular however, and she believes him, she can't help but do so). He skips over parts, and she can see the storm in his eyes, see his jaw clench, spine straighten. And she takes his hand, sliding her fingers into his, a smile of support on her lips. And he smiles back, he tries, tension seeping out as he brings himself to the present. Veronica squeezes her hand around his before pulling away, ignoring the burning feeling after the contact.

"I gotta ask, who are you singing about?" He stills, but she continues calmly. "Oh please Archie, anyone with ears can hear you're singing about someone. Is it your soulmate," she gasps horrified. "Did your soulmate break your heart like that?" He shakes his head, memories of his ruined childhood, of the past he was running away from and yet could never fully let go.

"It was a - " he stops floundering. Because how could he tell her of Ms Grundy, the person who lit a fire in his soul for music - who destroyed everything she touched in his life. She taught him believe in love and then she left him to learn how to navigate through the loss and heartbreak of it. It took him years to overcome the scars of his relationship with her, music tainted by her memory and yet the crutch he relied on in his darkest times. "Bad high school romance," he mumbles, hoping she would leave it. And she does, lips pursed as she watches him, dissecting his every move. They finish their lunch talking about trivial things like favourite bands and first concerts. Soon the one hour turns into two and it has Veronica cursing, prior commitments bringing it to a conclusion.

Archie feels a twang of sadness at it ending, but she slips him her number, telling him to call her.

He does.

They meet more frequently, Veronica going out of her way to see him, Archie going out of his way to be there when he knows she'll be going by. It is wonderful and fills her heart with joy every time she catches glimpse of his smile, every time she hears his voice. Months pass, the two of them getting closer with each other. They talk about everything and nothing at all, the smallest of things, of their deepest secrets and embarrassing stories.

He tells her of how he met Valerie Brown, the legend and his girlfriend. He talks of how he walked into the underground bar, and he saw her with the other Pussycats, jamming out to one of their singles. He laughs as he recounts watching them, learning from them, soaking in everything that they could teach. Josie didn't like him initially, even less when he started seeing Val, but - he says with a hint of pride in his voice - he seemed to be winning her over.

She confesses one day about her desire to meet her soulmate, her fear that she couldn't have one - that she doesn't deserve one. She is nervous saying those words out loud, fingers fiddling with the napkin as she eats out at his favourite diner, blinking constantly as she refuses to meet his eyes. He says her name lowly and takes her hand, asking her why, why she thought that a beautiful, strong, wonderful woman like her wouldn't deserve it.

And so she tells him about her past, the cruelty she inflicted upon others in her teenage years. It brings tears to her eyes, voice cracking as she expresses her guilt and remorse, how she hates who she used to be. And she asks how anyone could love a person like that. And suddenly she feels two arms wrap around her, embrace her. She sniffs, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder. He doesn't let go, his chest tightening as he feels her tears run down his neck. He doesn't let go, doesn't want to. It's only when she pulls away, embarrassment in her eyes, hands wiping away the traces of her tears. And he wants to tell her not be ashamed to show him her feelings, to never feel like she needs to hide from him. But he can't find the words.

It strikes him fiercely, this woman by his side, a stranger on the street only months ago, now one of the most important people in his life, an anchor in a turbulent world, a stronghold he could rely on. And he wanted to be that for her, he wanted to be someone she would turn to.

"I'm sorry," she starts, "I don't normally do that in front of people."

"It's fine Ronnie, really." And she looks up at him, gratitude shining in her eyes.

(And he realises, that maybe, just maybe he is that to her.

The thought brings a small smile to his lips at night.)

"So you wanna meet your soulmate, huh?" he teases, a smile on his lips. He hadn't put that much thought into the idea; many people went through their lives without ever seeing their soulmate or colour - and as the confirmation only came through a kiss on the lips, some had let the opportunity pass them by without knowing. And while he and Val may not be soulmates, they were happy together, and that's all he was looking for. Happiness.

"Stupid, huh?" she mumbles, more to herself than Archie. But he catches the words, catches the waver in her tone.

"Nah, it's not stupid. Many people want to meet their soulmate. It just makes you human." He looks at her, a twinkle in his eyes. "And all you need to do is go around kissing every guy you know on the lips until you see colour."

She punches him in the arm at the words. But she laughs and calls him a jerk, the smile lingering, and he thinks that maybe she'll be okay after all.

"Why couldn't my soulmate be you," she bemoans one evening, falling onto his couch, eyes closed as she listens to his laughter. And it's nice, she thinks, the dulcet tone warming her up. "Life would be so much easier." Veronica adjusts herself, laying across the couch in her dark blue dress, heels hanging off of her toes. It was another date night, Reggie Mantle from one football team or another at the same party as her. He was cute, she remembered thinking, cute and tall and strong. So she asked him out. And he said yes.

"I don't think Val would like you testing that out," he laughs, a smile on his lips as he lifts up her feet and slides on the couch beside her. He drops her legs on his lap, massaging the soles of her feet. She whimpers and groans, Archie laughing at her over-the-top reactions. "Was Reggie really that bad?" he asks, stopping his actions, turning to look at her. She pouts at him and he hums a laugh before continuing, Veronica smiling content at the feeling.

"No," she sighs. "And that's the problem. He's a great guy, sweet, very nice on the eyes and amazing in bed but -"

"He's not your soulmate," Archie finishes, his sadness carrying in his voice.

"Yeah." She looks so sad for a brief second, and he can't have that. So he tickles the soles of her feet, grinning as Veronica squeals in laughter, kicking her feet to escape him, unable to with his hands banded around her ankles. Soon it dies down, Veronica relaxing in the seat, Archie resuming his massage. Silence fills the room, only broken by her moans, toes curling as he hits a sore spot on her legs. "Archie Andrews," she says, voice thick. "You have fingers my exes would die for. Hope Val appreciates those magic hands." He clears his throat and shifts in his seat, his movements faltering for a few seconds before resuming again.

She cracks open her eyes, watching as his cheeks darkened. He was blushing, she realises with a a touch of delight.

That one moment makes up for the otherwise disappointing night.

Veronica had thought of kissing Archie before, the thoughts usually fleeting , brushed off with a laugh at herself, shaking her head at the notion. She's wondered about his arms, how nice they feel around her when he gives her a hug, she wondered what they would feel like tight around her waist, whether he would run his fingers through her hair if he were to kiss her, whether his grip would tighten and pull. Or would he be gentle, fingers skimming over her skin, driving her crazy for more.

She feels guilty every time; he was dating Val, she likes Val, and to be fantasising about her boyfriend makes Veronica feel strange.

And it only ever happens when she's drunk and alone, mind wandering to the guy who had become one of her closest friends in the city, the beautiful smile, his mouth.

But she had never dreamed of him. Not sexually.

Not until that night.

She wakes up gasping, core throbbing, wet and needy. She pulls open her bedroom drawer, reaching for her vibrator. Veronica is almost blinded by images of her dream as she struggles to find it and turn it on, flashes of his mouth, of his kisses - wet and dirty - trailing from her mouth down her chest, sucking and biting. She dreams she sees colours, and it's beautiful she thinks. But no more beautiful than a shirtless Archie Andrews between her legs, tongue and mouth and fingers, sucking against her clit, curling inside her, pushing her closer to the brink. But then she awakens.

She's already so close, so desperate, that the smallest vibration is enough to have her tumbling over the edge, his name whimpered through her lips, his face on her mind as she comes. It isn't enough however, the itch underneath her skin, driving her insane. She feels no shame imagining his fingers running over her body, imagining his lips against her ear, whispering all the things he had wanted to do to her. Veronica's not alone in the room, not really, not with Archie pinning her down, stealing a kiss as he slides into her, moving until she comes around him.

And then she is so very alone, the hum of the vibrator echoing in her room, accompanied only by her pants. But she smiles at the thought of Archie and her, her body boneless and content. She sleeps well that night - it is only in the morning, when she thinks over it in the light of day, does she feel guilt seep in.

When Veronica meets him again, there is something off with her. She can't meet his gaze, her voice changing as he discussing his attempts to learn the keyboard - his fingering all wrong - with her. He is worried for her, stopping constantly to ask how she is and what is wrong. She brushes off his attempts with a laugh that is in no way convincing. She chooses to push it down until it goes away, pretending that her feelings towards him were still unchanged.

(It never really does and she knows they are.)

She loves his hair, loves the feeling of it between her fingers, loves it when he lets it grow slightly, loves running her hand through it.

She asks him about it during his break one day, Veronica promising to pay for his lunch if he would just sit for a moment with her to bask in the world around them. She was persuasive and he was weak to her smile, ducking his head as he played around with the idea, nodding as he caved in. And the smile that followed... it was intoxicating.

"It's red," he says so resolutely she feels something inside her twist. She doesn't understand why, until he continues with "I've never seen it myself, but this girl from my old town, Cheryl, she came up to me when she was five, so sure I was related to her because we both had hair like fire." And she feels relief flood her, chest deflating from the breath she didn't realise she was holding, a smile stretching across her lips.

(she'll ponder the intensity of these feelings later, when she is alone in her apartment, ice cream in one hand the remote in the other, the romance film before her playing in black and white.)

"Oh," she starts, a smile in her tone. "So she's met her soulmate when she was a baby?"

"I dunno," he frowns at the thought, as though he were just now curious as to how she was so sure. "She's always been able to see colour. And I've never seen her love anyone but Jason - her twin" he clarifies. Inside Veronica cackles at the implications, another story of Archie's she wants to know more of.

She finds that there are a lot of those - details of Archie's past and present that she wants to know, wants to see. It used to put her on edge. Not anymore.

They were planning their weekly movie night in their favourite diner, Veronica introducing Archie to the classics he had missed out on in his childhood, wilfully missed out on if his conversations indicated anything. She is horrified at the look of confusion when she mentions Hitchcock and vows to introduce him to everything.

"You need to meet Jughead," she laughs at the absurd name, smiles at the joy mentioning his name brought Archie. "You and your movie references, he'd love you," he finishes with a dimpled grin, swiping some of her milkshake as she pouts and complains, stealing some of his chips in response.

"What about you Archiekins, do you love me?" She coos the words to him, teasing tone to show that she was joking. And she was, until she wasn't. It hits her suddenly, this uncertainty - this fear. Her life had been full of people who used her in one way or another, friends for popularity, boys to get attention. Her parents to avoid an extended prison sentence. She expects to be used constantly, so it scares her, the thought of this young man, one of the few cherished people in her life, being tainted in that way.

"Always Ronnie," he cracks a grin at her, full of youthful innocence, of a soul uncorrupted by the harsh realities of high school in New York. He puts his arm around her, pulling her close, and it was all she needed, Veronica melting into his side, smile reciprocated easily. But then he glances at his vibrating phone, face lighting up as he reads the caller. "It's Val, I gotta go."

Archie presses a soft kiss against her temple, barely a brush before pulling away.

But it has her heart beating faster, mind soaring and she thought in that moment she could see colour, full of wonderful hues and vibrancy. But just as it came, it left, the world all the different shades of grey once more. It went by so fast she is sure she imaged it - especially with Archie walking away, whistling to himself as though nothing had happened.

And that was - Veronica convinces herself late at night, when her heart so desperately wants to believe in the impossible - because nothing did.

He plays more desperately when he and Val are no longer together, pouring his heart and soul and very essence into the music. The breakup was swift and devastating, and it is only then that Veronica realises that he has no one else in this city - all his friends were Val's, she had introduced him to a world he never would have imagined existed without her. She was like a hurricane, storming into his life, turning it upside down. Val had inspired him and pushed him, and then she left. Leaving him utterly alone in a city where most never truly cares to know your name unless they can benefit off of it.

Archie had no one,

but Veronica.

She steals him away whenever she can, determined to bring back the same energy and vigour he possessed before. He would smile whenever she tries, an empty smile that did nothing to hide the pain in his eyes. But more often than not he is playing, pouring out his heart and soul, draining himself until there was only but a shell left. And it hurts her, aches her to see him like this, wandering lost.

She frowns as he plays one day, a fortnight later, his chords sloppy, his vocals slightly off. He winces during a song, stopping mid chorus. Without realising Veronica found herself rushing to his side, concerns arising as she saw him stretch his digits. He hisses as he touches the tips of his fingers, shaking his hand as the pain shoots down his arm.

"Archie" she gasps from behind, peering over his shoulder to see what was giving him issues.

He had played until his fingers were raw, until the skin was peeling and bloodied. She swears low and long, tugging him with her, barely giving time to pack up supplies before she walks into the nearest convenience store, picking up their first aid kit. He mutters that he's fine, but she staunchly ignores his words, purchasing it and pulling him to the nearest seat. She doesn't say a word when she opens it up, hands shaky as she uses the anti-bacterial wipes, as she picks up the bandages and wraps them around his fingers.

"Ronnie." He sounds so lost, and she doesn't know what to do or how to make it better. And she hates herself.

She takes his fingertips, eyes fluttering closed as she presses her lips against the bandaged fingers. She hears a sharp inhale she is sure is from Archie, but all she can focus on are the fireworks inside her at the contact. She had heard of kisses between soulmates working on areas other than the lips, and she finds herself hoping that she'd be able to see colour, her heart hopeful and fearful - fearful it would still be black and white when she opened her eyes. And it is - but the way that he's looking at her, there is something in his eyes that makes her not care as much.

It takes a few days for his fingers to heal, a few more weeks for his heart, Veronica by his side whenever needed, stopping by every day as he sings. She listens to his words, of his loss, of pain. Of trying to heal. Of healing.

But there is a new song, one about love and hope she had never heard it before. She is heady listening to the lyrics, the words sung from his lips going to her heart, moving her, etching itself on her soul. There is a beauty in his words, and god, how she wanted to be his inspiration, to be the woman who made him believe again, to be the anchor in the storms in his life.

It is a terrible time to realise that you're in love with your best friend.

She does so anyways.

He takes her out for dinner one night, fidgeting with his fingers, constantly checking his phone, for a call or a text she isn't quite sure, only that it was plaguing his mind. She snaps her fingers before him a few times, Archie jumping at the sound. He looks sheepish, ducking his head slightly in embarrassment.

"Sorry, I'm terrible company."

"It's nothing Archiekins," she says with an extra bounce in her voice, before softening. "What do you have on your mind?" He opens his mouth as if to speak, but nothing comes out. Instead he closes it, smiling gratefully at the waitress who brings them their meals of burger, chips and a milkshake. Veronica gives him a suspicious glance, before picking up the burger, humming her approval of its taste. He smiles at her reaction, but even in the joy, his expression is marred by worry. She sighs, putting down the burger, arching an eyebrow at him, daring him to refuse her. "Come on Archie, spill. What's up?"

"Have you ever wondered what it would be like if I didn't come here?" Her stomach plummets and Veronica loses her appetite. "What if I didn't leave town to pursue music in New York?" His voice wavers, and he moves to hold her hand. But then he hesitates, gaze focussed downward, unable to look her in the eyes. And so she takes his hands in her own, giving him a squeeze for support.

"I can’t answer that Archie, but we wouldn’t have met, and that would’ve been a tragedy of epic proportions." He smiles faintly at her words, but she can see the sincerity in it and that means more to her than anything else.

"I could kiss you for that," he jokes.

"I wouldn't stop you," she replies, voice steady even as her heartbeat accelerates. He laughs at that, but it dies fast as he catches her gaze.

"Ronnie?" he starts, and there is a rough quality to his tone, something that sends a shiver down her spine and goosebumps across her arms. He looks as though he would devour her, and she was a willing sacrifice, a thrum of electricity underneath her skin as he motions to move from the seat across from her to the one beside her. She takes a sharp inhale, but then the spell is broken, Archie's ringtone blasting through the diner. He smiles apologetically, sliding out of the booth to answer the call, leaving her alone with her burger and fries and her favourite flavour of milkshake.

He does return much later, eyes a different shade of grey then before. He doesn't say much, doesn't eat much either, asking for his meal to be placed in a go-to box. Archie sits there in silence, a stormy expression on his face. He thanks the waitress when she returns with his food and tips her heavily, a quick apology to Veronica, telling her that he had somewhere to be before rushing off.

He leaves her again, and he isn't returning. She sits there confused, a half eaten burger and milkshake in front of her.

Something's happened, she knows. And she's fearful of the answer.

There is a change in him, a quiet difference that screams in her mind. It haunts their every interaction, every conversation. It leaks into his voice when he sings, into his lyrics and sing choices. Archie is pulling away from her and yet holding her tighter. Her breath hitches every time she finds his eyes on her, so dark and intense, as though memorising the sight of her. He touches her more, constantly running his fingers on her skin, through her hair, driving her mad with desire.

It all comes to a head one cold, Saturday night. They had gone for drinks together, Veronica determined to get him so drunk he would forget about whatever plan he had concocted to be acting in this way. But drinking only seems to make him worse, Archie more morose than ever before, mumblings of apologies. She can sense the conflict inside him, the resignation.

"You know I love you Ronnie," he slurs. She thinks that maybe he too intoxicated, but there is a clarity in his eyes that belies her assumption. "So much." He pulls her close, buries his face in her neck, breathing her in. It is a shaky exhale, and his hold on her tightens, as though she would slip through his fingers if he had loosened it. "So, so much."

"Archie you gotta talk to me," she murmurs. He says nothing, and she'd assume he hadn't heard her if he hadn't stiffened against her. He lets go eventually, shoulders slumping as he takes another swig of his beer.

"You don't wanna know," but she does. Seeing him in pain is destroying her, but she can't help if she doesn't know what's going on. So Veronica tells him that, a bittersweet smile stretching across his face at her words. And so he does tell her.

She hears the words dad and sick, hears the word business and needed. But the word that rings in her ears is l e a v i n g. He was leaving - leaving New York, leaving his dream to be a musician. Leaving her.

"I see." Her voice is dead, and her heart is breaking. Somewhere deep down she knows it is the right thing to do, that he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't do anything to help his family, knew it would destroy him every single day he stayed away. But knowing didn't stem the wave of hurt inside her, couldn't stop the tears that were welling up.

"Ronnie, listen to me." He reaches out, touching her shoulder. She recoils as though she were burned. It hurts them, both of them. And she can't be there anymore, can be in the same room as him. It was stifling and she couldn't breathe, she needed to breathe.

"No Archie, go back to that good for nothing town, with those people who would destroy you. Go back," she hisses, "see if I care." And she turns on her heel and storms away, ignoring the tears leaking from the corner of her eyes, head held high as everything inside fell to pieces.

She pushes the backdoor open and breathes. She can smell the rain, the earthy smell permeating the air. It is refreshing to have something than the stench of smoke and body odour, but it does nothing to soothe her aching heart. She leans against the wall beside the door, the coarse bricks digging into her skin.

But she can hear the commotion behind her. She knows what is happening.

Hesitating for only a second, Veronica pushes herself off the wall, walking through the pouring rain, hoping that the raindrops will hide the evidence of her tears. Hoping Archie wouldn't follow her at all.

(Hoping that he does.)

"Ronnie," he calls out, his voice hoarse. "Wait, please."

And so she does, heels tapping the wet pavement below her feet, arms crossed against her chest as she stubbornly refuses to move towards an shelter, refuses to shiver because of the cold. Archie spares no hesitation, rushing after her into the rain, shirt thoroughly soaked, clinging to his frame.

"What you ginger Judas, what do you want?" she spits at him, gaze unwavering as he approaches her determined. He gets close, so close she could see the freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose, so close. And he was getting closer.

But then he is kissing her with lips and tongue, hands cupping her face, holding her against him as though she would dream of pulling away. Her eyes flutter closed immediately, the taste of alcohol and mint and something so uniquely Archie she would spend her whole life willing to determine what exactly it was. It ends far too early for Veronica, but still leaves her eyes closed and leaning into his body for strength. He pulls away, forehead resting on her own. She can't find the energy to pull herself away from his embrace or to open her eyes. She rests on him, harsh breaths filling the air as the rain pour around them.

"Oh gosh," she hears him whisper under his breath, awe and amazement in his tone, and love. She hears the love.

She opens her eyes to look at him, and she can hear herself swear at the sight.

The first colour she sees is red, bright red hair matted over his forehead, she sees the paleness of his cheeks, no longer a light shale of grey, but the pinkish hue, so light it could be considered white. Her gaze flickers to meet his own, eyes shining like emeralds, green and marvellous and Veronica can feel herself being swept inside them, drowning in the intensity of his gaze.

"You -" he whispers fragmented, unable to finish his sentence. There is such disbelief in his voice, such hope in his eyes. Instead of speaking he lifts his hands cupping her face, hands trembling - from the rain and cold soaking into his bones or the revelation he isn't sure. She nods in his hold, unable to resist leaning into his touch.

"Speak to me Archiekins," and her smile flickers just that bit. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

She expects words, of surprise maybe, a confession of feelings hopefully. But he does none of that, only ducks his head towards her, stealing her breath in that one action. He hovers over her lips, only a hairbreadth away. She can feel the hot air fanning her skin, can feel his hesitancy of making the first move yet again. And so she lifts herself up, kissing him as she had dreamt of, smiling against his lips as he relaxed his shoulders, his arms winding themselves around her waist, tugging her close. It's fierce, explosive. Just like his music he doesn't hold back; his hand is tight against her waist, tugging her closer, the other sliding up, cupping the back of her head, holding her against him as he kisses her over and over and over again. She can taste the rain still falling over them, can taste the beer he had been drinking hours earlier. But there is more, something she can't quite describe or remember, but a familiarity all the same. Her hands find themselves in his unruly locks of red, her left hand sliding down, nails scraping against the stubble growing, a small thrill down her spine at the feeling of it against her skin. She holds him close, afraid of letting go.

He would never.

He tells her a story in his movements, one of a story that has been building for so long, and only just getting to its climax. But soon they need to breathe, need to talk it through. (need to move to her bedroom, pronto.)

"So," Veronica heaves, a smile lighting up her face. She lifts her hand, wiping the smudged lipstick on his lips, laughing as he presses a gentle kiss against finger. "Soulmates?"

"I don't know what you mean Ronnie," he lets out in an exhale, eyes dancing with mirth. And she can't hold in the happiness inside her, escaping in a laugh, her arms sliding around his waist, his own around her shoulder. "I've just always wanted to make out in the rain." They move toward the closest building, unable to stop looking at each other, meandering slowly.

"Aww, Archiekins, I knew there was a girl inside of you, waiting to be let out." And then, more quietly. "I'm glad it's you, I -" Her words stumble and he stills, pulling her back toward him as she keeps walking forward. "I - "

"I know Ronnie," because of course he does, he had been living it for the past few months himself. "I know." He pulls her into a hug, tight and strong. It was all she needed, relaxing into his arms in the middle of the sidewalk, head curled into the crook of his neck, Archie whispering to her all that he could never put to music, things that he didn't feel he could share to the world. But he shares it with her, because she was his world, and that was enough for him.

And it's perfection.

And it was hers.

[neewtmas]

100 questions

Thanks to @giraffingthetardis i sat here for 2 hours answer all this questions     (but don’t worry, it was fun^^) 

#1- does the darkness comfort you?   depends. in my room in my bed it’s ok, but at every other place i’m nearly dying of fear .  

#2-what brings you crashing to the floor? not much, actually i can’t think of anything right now                   

#3angels or demons? angels

#4- God or Satan? yes, i just said angels, but i’m more for satan

#5- would you sit on the moon and watch the universe twirl quietly, even       if you couldn’t breathe? yes! even it would be fun only for like 20 secs?

#6- what scares you most in the world? darkness and heights

#7- can we always be there for one another? of course

#8- I feel like I’m dying… Can I talk to you? yes! don’t hesitate, i’m here

#9- being blind or being deaf? idk, like i love music but i love reading more and it would be terrible for me to live in darkness forever so i would rather be deaf

#10- what song makes your heart pound the most? idk... just every song by ed sheeran

#11- do you wish on stars? do you mean shooting stars? bc i would,but i’ve never seen one :/

#12- what were you doing last night at 1:03 am? sleeping?

#13- the happiest, most golden moment of my life? tbh, i don’t know. like there are many happy moments, moments where i’m just thankful for everything i have (ik i’m a cheesy potato) but i can’t think of the most happy one? i guess i couldn’t do a patronus .-. 

#14- the worst, most positively crushing moment of my life? didn’t had one yet

#15- if you had to choose between your mother and your father, who would you choose? oh god. idk maybe my mother? 

#16- ask me anything ok random fact: i love eating pomegranates, but everytime i make one, the kitchen looks like i slaughtered a pig afterwards

#17- salt or sugar? sugar

#18- death by water or fire? idk i think fire bc you get unconscious by all the smoke first or later by the pain and won’t feel anything, also i hate the feeling of drowing

#19- if you could have a degree in anything, what would it be? idk

#20- black or white? ….assuming I don’t like grey both, but rather black?

#21- the thing/person I want to stay safe and happy and comforted in this world? everyone i like

#22- if you could have the superpower of flight, invisibility, or mind-reading, which would you choose? invisibility, i think it would be really interesting to see how people act when you’re not around

#23- is music something you could not live without? i love music... but i could live without it if it would really necessary

#24- favorite flower my dear? roses

#25- why dragons? why not?

#26- ice cream in winter? Or possibly hot chocolate in the summer? hot chocolate in summer, i’m not the biggest fan of ice cream

#27- what’s your sexuality? heterosexual

#28- do you dream in black and white or color? luckily in colour, i think dreams in black and white would be really scary

#29- nights full of nightmares? nope

#30- what was the voice in your head saying at 2 am? idk, i was sleeping #31- okay…. Why don’t you hate the thorns on a rose? idk, it’s a part of the rose i guess? also, i like this thought -beautiful, but hard to touch if you don’t treat it careful

#32- do you trust me? yes 

#33- most cared for song at the moment? kitchen sink by twenty one pilots,i just love the lyrics

#34- worst injury? one time i fell off a horse and it stepped accidentally on my right shin - nothing bad happened but it hurted very much

#35- bath or shower? shower

#36- color you love the most? blue, black and white

#37- anonymous question ok, another fun fact: plants hate me,like i just have tolook at them and they already die .-.

#38- another way to wish not using 11:11, dandelion blooms, or even the fairy you thought you saw…? nope

#39- do you ever stare at the sky and look for those weird shapes in the clouds? yes! all the time, especially when i’m sitting in class

#40- a really weird something I like to eat in a weird way ok it’s not a weird something, but at our school you can buy this chocolate crossiants with a little chocolate bar in the middle, and i always eat the dough at the outside first, then the yummy pastry on the inside and then the chocolate bar, instead of just eat the whole thing like evrey other normal human being

#41- Lamborghini or Corvette? ok, i had to google it, and for me it looks pretty much the same, but i think i like corvette more

#42- when did I have my first kiss? Boy or girl? i didn’t had my first kiss yet (and i’ll die lonely with 30 cats)

#43- most listened to genre?  idk what genre this is, but i mostly listen to twenty one pilots, Ed Sheeran and Fall out boy #44- Jack Frost or Iron Man? Jack Frost ( is it possible to have a a crush on an animated character??)

#45- are shorts and a tank-top an optional outfit for you today? nope, bc first, i’m fat and second, it’s freezing cold outside right know

#46- will you be speaking to anyone you hate today? i won’t be speaking to anyone today

#47- nachos or pizza??? pizza pizza piiiiizzza

#48- is my life what I thought it might be like nope, bc i’m the most lazy person on this planet, even if i don’t want to

#49- thing I am the most proud of accomplishing? idk, i don’t have accomplish many things by now

#50- ask me a question concerning intimacy i’ll just skip this question lol

#51- piano or guitar? piano

#52- tell me something about yourself, my follower, please :) ok another fun fact: i can’t sleep longer than 10 am

#53- rather a mad world? Or an insane universe? insane universe

#54- are you that girl that sits alone on her roof at night? no, bc i’m that girl that is too afraid of falling down to sit at her roof at night or any other time

#55- I wrote this question at 3:59 in the morning, listening to Mad World by Jasmine Thompson: do you like hummingbirds? yes! i even drew one for my phone case

#56- is 1 (one) a unit or a number? a number

#57- glorious fireworks on a dark beach with your thoughts? Or swimming in the rain with your lover? i would love swimming in the rain with my lover - only problem: i don’t have one

#58- tattoo? What would it be? i don’t have one, but i think of a little moon or stars on the inside of my right wrist

#59- natural shade of your hair?  dark brown

#60- color of your eyes? oh thats interesting. hazel, and when i’m standing in the shadow, they’r brown, in the sun green, with the sun directly in my eyes somewhat green, light brown and and a hint of gold and with normal light they look mostly like a duck had just shit in my eyes .-.

#61- the thing you regret the most? don’t have one

#62- would you break a heart if it helped someone else? depends on who it would help

#63- do you ever wish you hadn’t kissed a past friend/lover/acquaintance? i never kissed a past friend/lover/acquaintance

#64- the most violent/brutal/inhuman thing you’ve ever done? i never did something like this, i’m a walking sunshine :)

#65- would I hug again, my most recent lover? maybe

#66- would I kiss the lips of my last kiss? maybe not

#67- who was the last soul to see you cry idk that’s long ago, but i guess my best friend

#68- have you ever looked into the eyes of someone who was about to die… And you didn’t even know it? if so, i don’t know it today either

#69- do you ever wear your clothes in a uncomfortable fit, just to try and reshape the way your body looks?  all the time

#70- have you ever intentionally hurt someone? pysical not, but when i’m really angry at someone, i can get mean and say things i don’t mean but just say because i want to hurt that person

#71- if you could spend the night with anyone, anywhere you wanted, how would you end up? idk, probably one of my favourite fictional characters

#72- butterflies or dragonflies? butterflies

#73- do you enjoy cooking? yes, but i’m the worst cook ever

#74- given the rather unpleasant opportunity, would you wear white to a funeral? yes, if it would fit to the dead person,like if he/she was a hopeful person i would probably do it

#75- have you ever abused drugs/alcohol/people? no never, i’m a good girl

#76- have I ever lay down in a barren field in the middle of a lightning and thunder storm? no luckily not

#77- would you dear, eat a strangers heart? i would eat nobody’s heart, not even the heart of an animal

#78- take the chance to sing in front of 10,000 people, while its snowing? no, because i can’t sing

#79- if “New Zealand” was a French pastry dish, would you eat it? i would try

#80- if “Naples Italy” was a Korean Milkshake, would you drink it? i would try

#81- if “Cardiff Wales” was a star in the universe, do you think you would know that? probably not #82- what happened in your dream/s last night? i forgot it 

#83- tell me who doesn’t deserve the air they breathe? the only person who i can think of is Donald Trump, becuase he stands for everything i absolutely hate, and is basically an asshole

#84- do you speak any foreign languages? english

#85- do you experience anxiety attacks? nope #86- ABCDEFGHIJKPLMNOPQRSRTUVWYXYZ…. do you know the alphabet? yes. and that’s wrong. it’s ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRTUVWXYZ

#87- describe “nucleus” ...

#88- running through the woods at night? Or crawling in the snow at dusk? crawling in the snow

#89- have you ever had a one night stand? Do you regret it? nope, i never had one #90- ask me anything “music” related *skips the question while hearing Young Volcanoes by Fall out boy*

#91- smoke alone, by the water or on your roof in the dark? by the water, but without the smoking part

#92- have you ever kissed a flower, knowing it was someone else’s favorite? ...no?

#93- have you ever sat on a cold bridge… And just waited? nope

#94- when I said “I love you” last… Did I honestly, truthfully and wholly mean it? i never said ‘I love you’ before (at least not in a romantic way, otherwise: yes)

#95- have you ever had a near-death experience? /What happened? no

#96- what do I want more than anything else on the planet/in the world/in the universe? idk

#97- do you put others before yourself, even on bad days? no, i’m a bit selfish from time to time, but i guess that’s important sometimes

#98- what, to me, is an angel? idk, someone who helps you in a situation where you really need it?

#99- what’s the most passionate thing I’ve ever done? idk i can’t think of something

#100- this is not a question, but rather a statement. 

* I want everyone to do me a favor: smile. Find that piece, that glimmer, that twinkle that brings life to you breath. Hold it, love it, don’t let it go. Talk to that person you fell for so long ago… Laugh with them, cry with them. It doesn’t matter, just talk. Get it all off your chest. We all need this. Eat what you want. Fuck society, everyone is beautiful, shape/color/voice/culture/sexuality/habits/ love and hates included. Wear something comfortable. Listen to your favorite song until you’re shouting the lyrics at the world because it feels wonderful. Run outside in the night air and jump up and down in your pajamas like a crazy child because we are human and we are beautiful and we deserve the love no one ever gets. Because we are us, and that is more than okay.

#101- thanks guys 

[levaduraa]

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Release Date and Price

New Post has been published on http://usa-fordcars.com/2019-ford-ranger-raptor-edition-release-date-and-price/

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Release Date and Price

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Release Date and Price – Raptor presently has a small sibling in the type of Raptor Ranger revealed on Wednesday in a specific session in Bangkok. Why Thailand? Nicely, the region is one of the medium creation centers ranger truck, and this is where Raptor Ranger will likely be developed. The U. S . is going to be integrated the Rangers Wayne, Michigan typically. Ford seems to have yet to confirm a Raptor Ranger available for sale in the United States, and that we are sure that the drilling will wind up in local exhibits, a minimum of in settings observed right here. Defined as a union ATV, fabulous bicycle motocross, and all-in-one exchange, and Raptor found Ranger in Thailand is driven by a 2. Liter’s seaplane on the internet turbo-4 engine oil nominal 210 horsepower and 369 pounds-ft. Alike. It is related to an automatic rifle 10 and four swiftly wheels, with the latter benefiting from F-150. Raptor 6 traveling modes full of beach sand lower setting and language selector cerebrovascular event setting.

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Rumors

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Specification

Team designers Ford has lent center and emergence of F-150. Raptor, portrayed by grid widened Fender’s dark, and all-landscape BF Goodrich wheels. The car also gets a hyperlink revocation, and rear way up Watts extended travel Fox Race accidents, additionally deepened the brakes, in this instance for discussion metal discs 13 cm broad. Determining the quantity of journey is also. Ford says ground clearance rose to 22 11 ins, although entry angle comes in 32.5 degrees, the ramp for whom to 24 levels and exit part of 24 degrees. You will even the fetus is the distinctive protection of tanks to prevent hurdles from the street. The advancement of the vehicle was performed mainly around Australia, in which the community section of Ford is on the charge of the T6 platform which underpins the Ranger family. The same body-in-framework design will also prop up a new Bronco coming next year, which might or might not be twinned with a fabulous new Everest SUV. The Ford Ranger Raptor trips in a unique framework that is designed to stand up to the rigors of substantial-speed off-road. Ford got the very same specifications on the F-150 Raptor, too, making sure the wholly boxed range frame would avoid jumps and further tough misuse.

As for the suspension, Ranger Raptor uses Fox Racing clashes at all four edges. At the front, the shock absorbers are incorporated into a MacPherson-type setup with a coil spring attached to the exterior of the jolt absorber. Aluminum manage arms maintain the tire and wheel set up. The rear suspension is a lot more interesting. The standard Ford T6 Ranger uses a solid rear axle with a multi-hyperlink and a coil springtime suspensions method. As an alternative to dumping this setting for a traditional leaf spring season settings like all the F-150 Raptor, Ford held the style and design. Of course, issues are updated with heavier elements to deal with the abuses of all the SUV. The shocks of Fox Auto racing are, enjoy the frontal, mounted inside of the coil spring season. That will save room and helps provide the most beautiful journey available. Furthermore, Ford preserved the construction of Watt’s link of the Ranger T6.

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Interior

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Exterior and Interior

The Raptor Ranger is based on the Ford T6 Global Ranger platform, yet “based ” is undoubtedly the keyword in this article. From the body, the motor teaches, and the revocation of the bodywork and also interior trim parts are specific to the Raptor. Raptor Ranger’s outside takes indicators from the F-150 raptor. A grille functions the strong F-O-R-D characters with light-weight projection headlights and LED daytime operating lighting on each side. Guided fog lamps fill stylized fender cutouts that point out to individuals on the F-150 Raptor. The F-150 Raptor inspires the entrance glide plate and the subjected pull hooks. Ford says the tow hooks are ranked at 9,920 weight.

The dark bumper then connects to the black safeguard flares for a cohesive, almost a single-part look. The black collection comes after beacons on steel boards operating, found in the rear fender flares, and ends away in the reduce-design rear fender. Coupled with the dark-highlighted wheels and the front side grille, the dark reduce half of Ranger Raptor offers it an earthy, however , almost menacing appearance.

Speaking about the rear fender, Raptor offers a Ranger similar design his buddy, such as a recipient cardan shaft two tow Hooks. These are evaluated with 8,377 pounds. As for anyone results actions, they are created of the high-power Lightweight aluminum alloy. Ford claims they are made with openings that depleting sand, bricks, and snowfall, while they are still mighty. Apparently, they have put through 220 lbs 84,000 fans occasions simulation ten years used by a buyer. They are protected against oxidation with natural powder layer based on which later on covered by private senior high school “and shade ” made to avoid the scuff marks and present us a slipping without conclusion. The increased bodywork is not merely for display. The front and rear Ranger Raptor tracks are 5.9 ins larger, although the overall size of the pickup truck is for some reason only .7 ins wider than the measures. The elevation of the pickup truck is 1.8 ins increase 2. ins as well as its ground length previously mentioned the Fx4 Ranger, meaning the Raptor Ranger may clear the challenges of 11.1 in . in height without rubbing.

Naturally, the approach and productivity aspects are enhanced, with the entrance fender allowing a fantastic method position of 32 degrees and the rear bumper giving a get out of the perspective of 24 diplomas. Ford has some colors for Ranger Raptor, including Lightning Azure, red competition, shadow black color, frosty white colored, and a ‘ special hero shade ‘ referred to as Conquering the grey. This may probably make the transition to the U.S.-spec Ranger Raptor as nicely.

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Redesign

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Engine

We are nevertheless waiting around for a Raptor Ranger coming from the United States Of America with a petroleum mill, even though Ford keeps peaceful in the matter. All automaker will say is the Ranger Raptor is undoubted to become available in Melbourne and other Asia Pacific nations starting up at 2018. Come on, Ford. Drop in the Mustang EcoBoost 2.3-liter turbocharged inline-4 plus they consider its day time. Even though there were not too several unexpected situations with the Raptor 2019 Ranger, the market was shocked with the newer Ford engine created specifically for the truck. We anticipated everything from the 2.7 liters and also 3.5 liters EcoBoost V-6 engines to an up-to-date 3.2-liter on the web-several turbodiesel, but no person might have predicted Ford’s shift.

It is a new four-tube turbodiesel of 2. liters. That engine uses twin turbos mounted in a composite arrangement. This means the smaller sized turbo spools over initially, offering boost at reducing engine speeds, while the bigger turbo climbs shortly after and provides much more impulse when the car engine is spinning at faster revolutions. The configuration permits the turbocharger’s benefits to stand out using without the dreaded leftover Turbo lag a problem. The result is an incredible 210 horsepower and 369 pound-ft of torque. Although the engine was some surprise, the choice of the Ford transmission had not been. It is the new 10-velocity auto which co-produced along with Basic Motors. Higher-tech equipment is discussed amongst producers in from the Chevrolet Camaro ZL1 to 2018 F-150. With this application, Ford gave the gearbox a distinctive calibration made to match up the new 2.-liter turbodiesel and catering for high-pace off-road traveling.

[mariokolaric]

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Release Date and Price

New Post has been published on http://usa-fordcars.com/2019-ford-ranger-raptor-edition-release-date-and-price/

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Release Date and Price

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Release Date and Price – Raptor presently has a small sibling in the type of Raptor Ranger revealed on Wednesday in a specific session in Bangkok. Why Thailand? Nicely, the region is one of the medium creation centers ranger truck, and this is where Raptor Ranger will likely be developed. The U. S . is going to be integrated the Rangers Wayne, Michigan typically. Ford seems to have yet to confirm a Raptor Ranger available for sale in the United States, and that we are sure that the drilling will wind up in local exhibits, a minimum of in settings observed right here. Defined as a union ATV, fabulous bicycle motocross, and all-in-one exchange, and Raptor found Ranger in Thailand is driven by a 2. Liter’s seaplane on the internet turbo-4 engine oil nominal 210 horsepower and 369 pounds-ft. Alike. It is related to an automatic rifle 10 and four swiftly wheels, with the latter benefiting from F-150. Raptor 6 traveling modes full of beach sand lower setting and language selector cerebrovascular event setting.

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Rumors

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Specification

Team designers Ford has lent center and emergence of F-150. Raptor, portrayed by grid widened Fender’s dark, and all-landscape BF Goodrich wheels. The car also gets a hyperlink revocation, and rear way up Watts extended travel Fox Race accidents, additionally deepened the brakes, in this instance for discussion metal discs 13 cm broad. Determining the quantity of journey is also. Ford says ground clearance rose to 22 11 ins, although entry angle comes in 32.5 degrees, the ramp for whom to 24 levels and exit part of 24 degrees. You will even the fetus is the distinctive protection of tanks to prevent hurdles from the street. The advancement of the vehicle was performed mainly around Australia, in which the community section of Ford is on the charge of the T6 platform which underpins the Ranger family. The same body-in-framework design will also prop up a new Bronco coming next year, which might or might not be twinned with a fabulous new Everest SUV. The Ford Ranger Raptor trips in a unique framework that is designed to stand up to the rigors of substantial-speed off-road. Ford got the very same specifications on the F-150 Raptor, too, making sure the wholly boxed range frame would avoid jumps and further tough misuse.

As for the suspension, Ranger Raptor uses Fox Racing clashes at all four edges. At the front, the shock absorbers are incorporated into a MacPherson-type setup with a coil spring attached to the exterior of the jolt absorber. Aluminum manage arms maintain the tire and wheel set up. The rear suspension is a lot more interesting. The standard Ford T6 Ranger uses a solid rear axle with a multi-hyperlink and a coil springtime suspensions method. As an alternative to dumping this setting for a traditional leaf spring season settings like all the F-150 Raptor, Ford held the style and design. Of course, issues are updated with heavier elements to deal with the abuses of all the SUV. The shocks of Fox Auto racing are, enjoy the frontal, mounted inside of the coil spring season. That will save room and helps provide the most beautiful journey available. Furthermore, Ford preserved the construction of Watt’s link of the Ranger T6.

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Interior

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Exterior and Interior

The Raptor Ranger is based on the Ford T6 Global Ranger platform, yet “based ” is undoubtedly the keyword in this article. From the body, the motor teaches, and the revocation of the bodywork and also interior trim parts are specific to the Raptor. Raptor Ranger’s outside takes indicators from the F-150 raptor. A grille functions the strong F-O-R-D characters with light-weight projection headlights and LED daytime operating lighting on each side. Guided fog lamps fill stylized fender cutouts that point out to individuals on the F-150 Raptor. The F-150 Raptor inspires the entrance glide plate and the subjected pull hooks. Ford says the tow hooks are ranked at 9,920 weight.

The dark bumper then connects to the black safeguard flares for a cohesive, almost a single-part look. The black collection comes after beacons on steel boards operating, found in the rear fender flares, and ends away in the reduce-design rear fender. Coupled with the dark-highlighted wheels and the front side grille, the dark reduce half of Ranger Raptor offers it an earthy, however , almost menacing appearance.

Speaking about the rear fender, Raptor offers a Ranger similar design his buddy, such as a recipient cardan shaft two tow Hooks. These are evaluated with 8,377 pounds. As for anyone results actions, they are created of the high-power Lightweight aluminum alloy. Ford claims they are made with openings that depleting sand, bricks, and snowfall, while they are still mighty. Apparently, they have put through 220 lbs 84,000 fans occasions simulation ten years used by a buyer. They are protected against oxidation with natural powder layer based on which later on covered by private senior high school “and shade ” made to avoid the scuff marks and present us a slipping without conclusion. The increased bodywork is not merely for display. The front and rear Ranger Raptor tracks are 5.9 ins larger, although the overall size of the pickup truck is for some reason only .7 ins wider than the measures. The elevation of the pickup truck is 1.8 ins increase 2. ins as well as its ground length previously mentioned the Fx4 Ranger, meaning the Raptor Ranger may clear the challenges of 11.1 in . in height without rubbing.

Naturally, the approach and productivity aspects are enhanced, with the entrance fender allowing a fantastic method position of 32 degrees and the rear bumper giving a get out of the perspective of 24 diplomas. Ford has some colors for Ranger Raptor, including Lightning Azure, red competition, shadow black color, frosty white colored, and a ‘ special hero shade ‘ referred to as Conquering the grey. This may probably make the transition to the U.S.-spec Ranger Raptor as nicely.

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Redesign

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Engine

We are nevertheless waiting around for a Raptor Ranger coming from the United States Of America with a petroleum mill, even though Ford keeps peaceful in the matter. All automaker will say is the Ranger Raptor is undoubted to become available in Melbourne and other Asia Pacific nations starting up at 2018. Come on, Ford. Drop in the Mustang EcoBoost 2.3-liter turbocharged inline-4 plus they consider its day time. Even though there were not too several unexpected situations with the Raptor 2019 Ranger, the market was shocked with the newer Ford engine created specifically for the truck. We anticipated everything from the 2.7 liters and also 3.5 liters EcoBoost V-6 engines to an up-to-date 3.2-liter on the web-several turbodiesel, but no person might have predicted Ford’s shift.

It is a new four-tube turbodiesel of 2. liters. That engine uses twin turbos mounted in a composite arrangement. This means the smaller sized turbo spools over initially, offering boost at reducing engine speeds, while the bigger turbo climbs shortly after and provides much more impulse when the car engine is spinning at faster revolutions. The configuration permits the turbocharger’s benefits to stand out using without the dreaded leftover Turbo lag a problem. The result is an incredible 210 horsepower and 369 pound-ft of torque. Although the engine was some surprise, the choice of the Ford transmission had not been. It is the new 10-velocity auto which co-produced along with Basic Motors. Higher-tech equipment is discussed amongst producers in from the Chevrolet Camaro ZL1 to 2018 F-150. With this application, Ford gave the gearbox a distinctive calibration made to match up the new 2.-liter turbodiesel and catering for high-pace off-road traveling.

[levantine-chant]

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Release Date and Price

New Post has been published on http://usa-fordcars.com/2019-ford-ranger-raptor-edition-release-date-and-price/

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Release Date and Price

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Release Date and Price – Raptor presently has a small sibling in the type of Raptor Ranger revealed on Wednesday in a specific session in Bangkok. Why Thailand? Nicely, the region is one of the medium creation centers ranger truck, and this is where Raptor Ranger will likely be developed. The U. S . is going to be integrated the Rangers Wayne, Michigan typically. Ford seems to have yet to confirm a Raptor Ranger available for sale in the United States, and that we are sure that the drilling will wind up in local exhibits, a minimum of in settings observed right here. Defined as a union ATV, fabulous bicycle motocross, and all-in-one exchange, and Raptor found Ranger in Thailand is driven by a 2. Liter’s seaplane on the internet turbo-4 engine oil nominal 210 horsepower and 369 pounds-ft. Alike. It is related to an automatic rifle 10 and four swiftly wheels, with the latter benefiting from F-150. Raptor 6 traveling modes full of beach sand lower setting and language selector cerebrovascular event setting.

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Rumors

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Specification

Team designers Ford has lent center and emergence of F-150. Raptor, portrayed by grid widened Fender’s dark, and all-landscape BF Goodrich wheels. The car also gets a hyperlink revocation, and rear way up Watts extended travel Fox Race accidents, additionally deepened the brakes, in this instance for discussion metal discs 13 cm broad. Determining the quantity of journey is also. Ford says ground clearance rose to 22 11 ins, although entry angle comes in 32.5 degrees, the ramp for whom to 24 levels and exit part of 24 degrees. You will even the fetus is the distinctive protection of tanks to prevent hurdles from the street. The advancement of the vehicle was performed mainly around Australia, in which the community section of Ford is on the charge of the T6 platform which underpins the Ranger family. The same body-in-framework design will also prop up a new Bronco coming next year, which might or might not be twinned with a fabulous new Everest SUV. The Ford Ranger Raptor trips in a unique framework that is designed to stand up to the rigors of substantial-speed off-road. Ford got the very same specifications on the F-150 Raptor, too, making sure the wholly boxed range frame would avoid jumps and further tough misuse.

As for the suspension, Ranger Raptor uses Fox Racing clashes at all four edges. At the front, the shock absorbers are incorporated into a MacPherson-type setup with a coil spring attached to the exterior of the jolt absorber. Aluminum manage arms maintain the tire and wheel set up. The rear suspension is a lot more interesting. The standard Ford T6 Ranger uses a solid rear axle with a multi-hyperlink and a coil springtime suspensions method. As an alternative to dumping this setting for a traditional leaf spring season settings like all the F-150 Raptor, Ford held the style and design. Of course, issues are updated with heavier elements to deal with the abuses of all the SUV. The shocks of Fox Auto racing are, enjoy the frontal, mounted inside of the coil spring season. That will save room and helps provide the most beautiful journey available. Furthermore, Ford preserved the construction of Watt’s link of the Ranger T6.

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Interior

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Exterior and Interior

The Raptor Ranger is based on the Ford T6 Global Ranger platform, yet “based ” is undoubtedly the keyword in this article. From the body, the motor teaches, and the revocation of the bodywork and also interior trim parts are specific to the Raptor. Raptor Ranger’s outside takes indicators from the F-150 raptor. A grille functions the strong F-O-R-D characters with light-weight projection headlights and LED daytime operating lighting on each side. Guided fog lamps fill stylized fender cutouts that point out to individuals on the F-150 Raptor. The F-150 Raptor inspires the entrance glide plate and the subjected pull hooks. Ford says the tow hooks are ranked at 9,920 weight.

The dark bumper then connects to the black safeguard flares for a cohesive, almost a single-part look. The black collection comes after beacons on steel boards operating, found in the rear fender flares, and ends away in the reduce-design rear fender. Coupled with the dark-highlighted wheels and the front side grille, the dark reduce half of Ranger Raptor offers it an earthy, however , almost menacing appearance.

Speaking about the rear fender, Raptor offers a Ranger similar design his buddy, such as a recipient cardan shaft two tow Hooks. These are evaluated with 8,377 pounds. As for anyone results actions, they are created of the high-power Lightweight aluminum alloy. Ford claims they are made with openings that depleting sand, bricks, and snowfall, while they are still mighty. Apparently, they have put through 220 lbs 84,000 fans occasions simulation ten years used by a buyer. They are protected against oxidation with natural powder layer based on which later on covered by private senior high school “and shade ” made to avoid the scuff marks and present us a slipping without conclusion. The increased bodywork is not merely for display. The front and rear Ranger Raptor tracks are 5.9 ins larger, although the overall size of the pickup truck is for some reason only .7 ins wider than the measures. The elevation of the pickup truck is 1.8 ins increase 2. ins as well as its ground length previously mentioned the Fx4 Ranger, meaning the Raptor Ranger may clear the challenges of 11.1 in . in height without rubbing.

Naturally, the approach and productivity aspects are enhanced, with the entrance fender allowing a fantastic method position of 32 degrees and the rear bumper giving a get out of the perspective of 24 diplomas. Ford has some colors for Ranger Raptor, including Lightning Azure, red competition, shadow black color, frosty white colored, and a ‘ special hero shade ‘ referred to as Conquering the grey. This may probably make the transition to the U.S.-spec Ranger Raptor as nicely.

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Redesign

2019 Ford Ranger Raptor Edition Engine

We are nevertheless waiting around for a Raptor Ranger coming from the United States Of America with a petroleum mill, even though Ford keeps peaceful in the matter. All automaker will say is the Ranger Raptor is undoubted to become available in Melbourne and other Asia Pacific nations starting up at 2018. Come on, Ford. Drop in the Mustang EcoBoost 2.3-liter turbocharged inline-4 plus they consider its day time. Even though there were not too several unexpected situations with the Raptor 2019 Ranger, the market was shocked with the newer Ford engine created specifically for the truck. We anticipated everything from the 2.7 liters and also 3.5 liters EcoBoost V-6 engines to an up-to-date 3.2-liter on the web-several turbodiesel, but no person might have predicted Ford’s shift.

It is a new four-tube turbodiesel of 2. liters. That engine uses twin turbos mounted in a composite arrangement. This means the smaller sized turbo spools over initially, offering boost at reducing engine speeds, while the bigger turbo climbs shortly after and provides much more impulse when the car engine is spinning at faster revolutions. The configuration permits the turbocharger’s benefits to stand out using without the dreaded leftover Turbo lag a problem. The result is an incredible 210 horsepower and 369 pound-ft of torque. Although the engine was some surprise, the choice of the Ford transmission had not been. It is the new 10-velocity auto which co-produced along with Basic Motors. Higher-tech equipment is discussed amongst producers in from the Chevrolet Camaro ZL1 to 2018 F-150. With this application, Ford gave the gearbox a distinctive calibration made to match up the new 2.-liter turbodiesel and catering for high-pace off-road traveling.