#Scion Engines

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Cyrious Garageworks Scion FR-S, 2013. A first generation Toyota GT86 modified for drifting with a 500hp FA20 engine

[devotedlystrangewizard]

if i had a nickel for every surprise rhythm game in a final fantasy game with a number in the title that is dividable by 7 id have 2 nickels which isnt a lot b

[largemouthbassnation]

Is an LS-Powered Subaru BRZ Better than a Corvette? - One Take

Save time, money and headaches at the dealership with CARZING! Find your car, line up financing, and do the paperwork at … source

[rookthebird]

meljayvik au where viktor is also from Noxus. he's the expert on weaponry and prosthetics, building fearsome engines of war even though his real passion is saving lives. he persuaded Mel to take him along in her exile, unable to face the growing death tolls of by his machines.

and he and Mel are... close.

in each other's laps. whispering into each other's ears. sanctuary. co-conspirators.

what they want- these two deadly beautiful scions of warfare, dressed in moonlight silver and sunlight gold- they get.

and what they want is Jayce Talis.

the pretty young Piltie who's pitching them his inventions in hopes of funding. who has no idea that he's walking straight into the vipers' den...

[lovetwist]

Veil of Deception (I)

SYNOPSIS: In a world where political alliances are forged in blood and treachery lurks around every corner, you find yourself thrust into marriage with Feyd-Rautha, the enigmatic scion of House Harkonnen. Born to be his perfect mate, you grapple with the terrifying prospect of becoming entangled with a man known for his brutality, obsession, and madness. As your union unfolds, you navigate a landscape of deception and dark desires, struggling to find your footing in a marriage fraught with danger and uncertainty. Caught between duty and defiance, summon your strength and resilience to survive in a world where loyalty is a luxury and love is a dangerous game.

WARNINGS (R18+): mildly dub-con, smut, first time, weapons kink, mentions of violence, manipulations, genetic breeding, power play

Word Count: 3.5k

PART 2

Below the towering spires of obsidian and steel, against a backdrop of opulent extravagance that flaunted wealth and power, a tension hung heavy, pregnant with the promise of destiny.

As Lady Atreides, sole daughter of Leto Atreides, you stood poised on the precipice of a meeting that would shape the course of your future. Your heart seized with nerves as you awaited the arrival of your betrothed.

Since your 15th name day, you had known of your engagement to the na-Baron. It was an inescapable fate predetermined by the Bene Geserrit. Your mother, Lady Jessica, had gone against them by giving birth to Paul, a male heir for Leto. Two years later, she gave birth to you – a gift of compromise for both sides. In return, Lady Jessica and Leto achieved the familial harmony they wanted, through the sacrifice of their daughter.

Every year, the Harkonnens requested your portrait to be sent along with a lock of hair. In exchange, they sent House Atreides jewels, gold, silks, and spice; disguised bribes for the upkeep of such a fine lady. They had only sent a portrait of Feyd-Rautha once. It was taken during his coming-of-age ceremony, a lean young man dressed in black fighting leathers. You stared often at the picture, looking to find some clue that could reveal his character. His demeanor was unnaturally cold and collected, yet his dark eyes barely concealed a burning rage. You wondered if Feyd-Rautha poured over you pictures as you did his.

Years passed and the engagement felt more like a false formality than reality. Unlike other noble families, you never exchanged letters with Feyd-Rautha or even met as a courtesy. Having completed your Bene Geserrit training under your mother, you learned that such things did not matter when it came to pairings arranged by the Reverand Mother. You caught whispers of conversation between your mother and her Bene Geserrit sisters. There would be no chance of failure, this union would be perfect. You were genetically engineered to be his absolute mate. Attraction and physical compatibility was assured. Everything about you was designed to lure him in – your scent, your voice, your everything was to be his undoing from the moment he would lay eyes on you.

Yet the thought gave you no confidence as you stood here now in Giedi Prime. Sexual attraction differed greatly from love, he didn’t need emotions to breed you. Feyd-Rautha, the enigmatic scion of House Harkonnen, was a man followed by countless stories of brutality and wickedness. You heard that he laughed when Reverand Mother subjected him to the Gom Jabbar. He didn’t endure pain, he reveled in it.

Your palms grew clammy, breath becoming increasingly shallow as you pondered the dark fate that awaited you in the form of this formidable man. Would Feyd-Rautha be the embodiment of all the whispered sin that had reached your ears, or would he prove to be an enigma beyond your wildest imaginings? With each passing moment, the anticipation mounted, weaving a delicate web of uncertainty around your heart as your braced yourself to meet the man who held your destiny in his hands.

The grand doors of the chamber swung open with a regal flourish, your heart quickened its pace, echoing the rhythm of anticipation that thrummed through the air. Through the gray haze of incense, you beheld Feyd-Rautha, a vision of masculinity and charisma, whose presence seemed to command the very essence of the room. His eyes met yours across the expanse of the chamber, a charged moment filled with unspoken tension, as if the universe itself held its breath in anticipation of this meeting.

You were ensnared in a tempest of conflicting emotions, thoughts swirling like sand caught in a desert storm. You questioned your own composure, wondering if you could maintain the facade of confidence expected of a lady of House Atreides in the presence of the young Harkonnen and the terrifying Baron. Feyd-Rautha may be your future husband, but he was not required to provide you a good nor happy life. After all, why would he? You were the daughter of his family’s sworn enemy. He may have been bound in marriage to you by centuries of bloodline manipulation, but he maintained a free will.

Would his words falter, betraying the tumult and hatred raging within him? Or would he summon the grace and poise befitting his station, masking the turmoil that churned beneath the surface? Your apprehension mounted, a symphony of doubt and fear playing out in the recesses of your mind. Yet, amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a glimmer of determination flickered like a distant star on the horizon, urging you forward into the unknown with a quiet resolve born of necessity.

For in the labyrinthine dance of politics and power that defined their world, you knew that you could ill afford to falter now. With a steadying breath, you squared your shoulders and prepared to face your destiny, whatever form it may take in the guise of a madman husband.

Feyd-Rautha, with an air of effortless confidence, strode forward, his gaze a smoldering ember that ignited a spark within your soul. In that fleeting moment, as your paths converged amidst the darkness and mist of the surroundings, you felt a surge of something unfamiliar yet undeniable—an electric current that crackled between your bodies, binding your fates together inextricably.

Words eluded you as you struggled to articulate the wave of emotions that threatened to consume you. Yet, in the silence that stretched between you two, you found solace in the understanding that this meeting was but the first step on a journey fraught with uncertainty and possibility. He bowed without taking his eyes off you. In greeting, you extended a gloved hand, Feyd-Rautha grasped it with a firm sense of resolve. You knew that your lives were now intertwined in ways neither could fully comprehend nor stop.

And in that moment, amidst the hazy dream of your shared future, you glimpsed the faintest flicker of something akin to desire dance across his eyes. You noticed a dilation of his pupils as he laid a kiss on the back of your hand. Then, his grasp of you tightened and tightened. Your face contorted in pain as a crooked smirk appeared on his features.

In the dim light of the chamber, your eyes traced the contours of his cheekbones and the fullness of his lips, searching for traces of the young man you once memorized in a portrait. Yet, try as you might, only a beast stood before you in the guise of a gentleman. When he stood at his full height with his darkened leer, you held yourself back from cowering. His gaze was vicious, his smile vulgar with blackened teeth, and he exuded an air of savagery.

“How delightful it is to finally meet you, Lady Atreides.”

His deep, raspy voice caught you off guard. What a performer he could be! Long gone was the ethereal allure he displayed when first entering the room, now you could see him for what he was.

“Likewise, my Lord Feyd-Rautha.”

Uncertainty lingered like a specter in the room, casting a pall over the impending union that would bind you with him. You let your gaze lower onto the floor as your parents approached to talk with the Baron and na-Baron.

You could feel his intense gaze burning through your body even as you moved away to be with your brother. Could his eyes pierce through your facade, unraveling the intricacies of your soul like fine thread? Such questions gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, casting shadows on your will to remain strong.

As the evening progressed, the tension in the air thickened like a fog, suffocating any semblance of ease. Seated at the long banquet table surrounded by your family, the Harkonnens, and noble guests, you found yourself ensnared in a delicate dance of propriety and peril.

Across from you, Feyd-Rautha lounged in his seat, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he watched you with unabashed fascination. His demeanor was that of a predator toying with its prey, his every movement calculated to instill a sense of discomfort. Your family would leave to Arrakis after the wedding festivities, then you would be truly left alone with him. The precariousness of your position tugged at your heart.

As the meal commenced, the atmosphere grew increasingly tense, punctuated by the clinking of silverware and the strained chatter of polite conversation. You forced yourself to engage in small talk with those seated around you, your words measured and careful, lest you betray the fear that coiled like a serpent in the pit of your stomach.

Despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of composure, you couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized by those dark, probing eyes. It was as if Feyd-Rautha could see straight through you, peeling away the layers of pretense to expose your most secret vulnerabilities. You found yourself growing increasingly unsettled. You longed to escape, to retreat to the safety of your chambers and away from the suffocating presence of the Harkonnen heir.

But you knew that there would be no reprieve, no sanctuary from the darkness that had descended upon your life like a shadow. For tonight, and every night thereafter, you were bound to him by the cruel machinations of fate, condemned to walk a path fraught with danger and uncertainty. And as you raised your glass to Feyd-Rautha’s toast to your impending union, you couldn't help but wonder what horrors awaited you.

“To the most beautiful bride in the world, I will certainly savor tomorrow’s…memories.”

The men at the table chuckled darkly while your father’s and brother’s jaws clenched. You lay your delicate hand over theirs, do not mourn me. If I am to die, I shall do so with honor.

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

As your mother lowered your veil, you noticed tears forming in her eyes. You never thought you’d live to see the day the impenetrable Lady Jessica shed tears for you. I must really be walking into my death, you thought.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror. There were no words to describe the vision you saw. Crafted from the finest silk and satin, your wedding gown exuded an air of majestic elegance with flowing skirts cascading like waves of moonlight around your figure.

The bodice, adorned with intricate beadwork and delicate lace, hugged your curves with a tailored precision, accentuating a slender waist and graceful neckline. A row of tiny diamonds trailed down your body, gleaming against the smooth expanse of your back. While the front of the dress was conservative, your back was tastefully exposed through a combination of sheer silk, diamonds and pearls.

Your hair was pinned neatly into a bun with a delicate braid on each side. The veil was gauzy, making your face seem like a daydream. The ivory fabric of your dress pooled at your feet in a sea of frothy tulle and satin, forming a train that trailed behind you like a regal cloak. The wedding dress was embroidered with delicate motifs of growing vines, mountains and ocean waves – a reminder of Caladan.

At your collar, a border of intricate lacework added a touch of timeless elegance, its patterns catching the light in a dazzling display of shimmering beauty. With every movement, the gown seemed to whisper tales of romance and splendor, a clear hope to the love and devotion the seamstress had prayed you’d find. You choked down a sob.

You’ve made me an angel for him to ruin.

The wedding hall was adorned with such grandeur, you’d expect the emperor’s daughter was getting married instead. The flickering silver torches cast dancing shadows upon the ebony stone walls. As guests gathered in hushed reverence, the air crackled with anticipation, as if the very walls themselves whispered of your impeding damnation.

At the front of the hall, beneath a canopy of arched black silk, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen stood, an imposing figure in his ceremonial garb. His porcelain skin was stark against the darkness of his clothes as he awaited his bride.

You approached with measured steps, hardening your grip on your father’s arm. Your eyes must’ve betrayed your fear and resignation because you could see Feyd-Rautha biting the inside of his cheek to suppress a laugh.

As you reached the altar, his lips curled into a predatory smile, his voice dripping with malice as he spoke the vows that bound you together in unholy matrimony. The words echoed through the hall like a curse, sealing your fate alongside his.

As you exchanged rings, a union forged in the fires of despair, you vowed that though your body may be bound to Feyd-Rautha, your spirit would remain forever free.

Standing before him, you felt the weight of his gaze like chains around your soul.

With a solemn nod from the officiant, you and Feyd-Rautha were instructed to seal your union with a kiss. He removed your veil, his eyes lingering on your face. As his lips met yours, a shiver ran down your spine.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle, but devoid of love. You gasped when his tongue entered your mouth. It was a macabre dance of dominance and submission, a twisted mockery of affection that left a bitter taste upon your lips. You try to push him away, but he holds your hands firm against his chest. The Harkonnens roar with applause and laughter. As you pulled away, a sense of profound emptiness washed over you, a hollow echo of the dreams and desires that had once burned within your heart.

The rest of the wedding banquet was a blur. As you were led to the high table by Feyd-Rautha's side, you couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped, ensnared in a web of malevolence. The guests, mostly Harkonnen allies, noble families, and sycophants, feigned smiles and exchanged whispers, their eyes gleaming with a perverse curiosity at the spectacle of your union.

The feast itself was a decadent display of excess, with platters of exotic delicacies and goblets overflowing with rich wines. But the opulence only served to accentuate the suffocating atmosphere, as the room was closing in on you with each additional piece of ornate furniture.

Feyd-Rautha, ever the consummate host, played his part with calculated charm, his laughter ringing hollow in your ears as he regaled the guests with tales of conquest and murder. You watched him from across the table, his features twisted in a mask of false benevolence, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of revulsion mingled with a sliver of pity. He, too, was playing a part – ever the performer. 

Throughout the banquet, you were subjected to the leering gazes and whispered innuendos of the Harkonnen cronies, their crude remarks slicing through the thin veneer of civility like daggers. But you held your composure, steeling yourself against their taunts and jeers, refusing to let them see the cracks in your mask.

As the night wore on and the wine flowed freely, the mood grew increasingly raucous, the revelry descending into a frenzied ecstasy. You found yourself adrift in a sea of faces, each one a grotesque caricature of humanity, their laughter and applause a cruel mockery of your predicament.

And amidst the chaos and debauchery, you couldn't help but wonder what was in store for you, chained to a man whose heart was as black as midnight. As you absentmindedly finished your last sip of wine, Feyd-Rautha stood suddenly, his chair loudly rattling against the granite floors. A chilling silence descended upon the hall.

He extended a hand towards you and you immediately understood his intentions. You departed the hall, hand-in-hand as men watched with envy and women stared with pity. You couldn’t bear to look at the faces of your family, afraid that you might beg them to take you home.

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

As you left the banquet hall with Feyd-Rautha, a heavy sense of foreboding settled over you. The echoes of the evening's macabre festivities lingered in your mind, each laughter, each lewd jest, a reminder of the gilded cage in which you now found yourself imprisoned.

You walked beside Feyd-Rautha, his grip firm upon your hand, guiding you through the labyrinthine corridors of the Harkonnen estate. There was an eerie stillness in the air. With each step, you felt the weight of your predicament pressing down upon you, the reality of your situation sinking in like a cold, unyielding truth.

You stole a glance at Feyd-Rautha, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Occasionally fireworks would alight by the window, allowing you to see his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger that made you look away immediately.

As you walked in silence, your mind raced with a flurry of thoughts and emotions, a storm raging within you. You couldn't help but wonder what awaited in the bedchamber. You weren’t ignorant to the act of consummating a marriage, but your husband was no ordinary man. What horrors lay in store for a woman bound to a man as cruel and cunning as Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen… what would satisfy a man like him? But amidst the fear and uncertainty, a flicker of desire burned within you, a stubborn resolve to claim him as much as he claims you.

He led you into a large room with double doors. Compared to the gaudy decorations of the wedding hall, this room was relatively simple: a chamber of dark elegance and understated grandeur. There were only the bare necessities required of a bedroom, but each piece had been impeccably handmade with the most exquisite of materials. At its center, a massive four-poster bed stands as the focal point, its frame crafted from polished ebony wood, intricately carved with motifs of serpents and ivy. Perfectly sized above the bed, stretching over the ceiling was pure reflective glass. You swallowed thickly, this man had no shame.

A grand chandelier hangs from the center of the ceiling, its crystals casting prismatic rays of light across the room, illuminating the space with a haunting allure.

The walls are lined with dark, navy paneling, adorned sparingly with antique tapestries depicting scenes of forgotten battles and dangerously sharpened weapons. A sleek, black writing desk sits nearby, stacked with books on war strategies and adorned with quill and parchment.

A sense of regal simplicity pervades the space, each element carefully curated to its master. This is a sanctuary of solitude, where one can retreat from the heaviness of the Harkonnen world and immerse themselves in the embrace of peace.

Busy admiring the room, you didn’t notice Feyd-Rautha locking the doors behind you. You tensed when you suddenly felt the coldness of a blade against your back. With one precise slice, he cut your wedding dress open leading all the decorative pearls to fall to the ground. Your hands instinctively went to cover yourself, but his newfound grip on your wrists was even faster.

“You are mine now, pet.” His hands slowly guided yours down as he ripped away the rest of your dress. “Do not resist me, I want to see you in all your beauty.”

Your face flushed as you looked away from him. You knew objecting to his wish was futile, perhaps if you appeased him then he’d be gentler. You learned this was a useless thought the moment you saw his expression – raw, animalistic hunger chipped away at the edges of his sanity. His pupils dilated so wide that his eyes became monochromatic orbs of obsidian.

He removed his own clothes with swift and lithe movements, revealing pure sculpted muscle. Through the rapid rise and fall of his chest, you could see that he was barely holding back his lust. Feyd-Rautha was going to devour you without leaving a single morsel for the world.

“I-I… If you hurt me, I will scream.”

“Go ahead, it’ll only stroke my ego if you do. Scream loud enough for the whole banquet to hear. Let them know what pleasures your husband bestows upon you.”

With each step he took towards you, you took two steps back. When you felt the bed come into contact with the back of your knees, you realize you’ve been trapped.

“Lie down.” he commanded.

Sensing the tonal shift in his voice, you obeyed. You felt his long, slender fingers enter your most intimate place. When he curved against your inner wall, you let out an involuntarily moan – which he quickly swallowed from your lips. You had touched yourself before, but only rarely during occasions when you couldn’t sleep and the moon was hanging high.

However, this was different – he was different. His fingers reached places where yours never could. Your body made lewd sounds as he pumped in and out of you with torturous speed. The way you grind against his hand was indecent, but he rewarded you with such sweet friction. Hearing his low pants against your ear, you couldn't help but writhe into his touch. When you came undone, he smirked and licked your essence from his fingers.

Before you could catch your breath, he was on top of you again; caging you between his toned arms. He reached out to grasp your chin before roughly crashing his lips down on yours. The kiss was all-consuming, he was drinking in every part of you without letting you breathe. Your eyes wandered down to where his member stood unnaturally stiff and enlarged. Your new husband sneered at your expression before his right hand circled around your throat.

“Your throat… it shall be my axis tonight.”

[voidsentprinces]

One of my favorite details about Warrior of Light is how side character will see us fight a Primal and be both awe struck and terrified of us. Like they can't tell which one of us is the real monster out there on the battlefield. The Warrior of Light keeps Lolorito up at night, the Holy See would rather open its gate to the exiled Scions than to spurn the Warrior of Light, better to keep them clearly in direct line of vision and then send them out on a suicide mission to parley with Dragons than let them stay cooped up in Ishgard and constantly a threat, Ysayle is genuinely at lost for words after we fight Ravana saying she hasn't seen us fight like that since she and her fought and despite just being defeated by Ravana, she seems more afraid of us than she is of still being in ambush distance of the One Mind, Elidibus doesn't truly comprehend our power and after we activate the Crystal of Azem, he genuinely falters and asks who we are, Thordan sees us as a terror beyond terrors, his death not being a peaceful one as we are warped from his perspective, Fandaniel chooses Zenos and us to antagonize genuinely because we are literally the only thing on Eitheirys that could guarantee that Zodiark was vanquished and the Final Days unleashed, Ryne is drawn to us for a reason beyond any sense she knows at first much like her she can sense the powerful light like that of Warden and needs to know more of it, and the only ones who outgambit us (Ilberd, Fandaniel, Emet-Selch and Zenos) are not in their right mind to begin with in dealing with us. And then again, all they can really do is STALL us as we are a single person siege engine cutting through waves of soldiers, the Garleans despise us and yet also respect us for what we did in the Praetorium, Zenos is truly in awe of us and calls us Champion of the Savages in reverence. Very few who meet us at first are gladened by our arrival, some are genuinely nervous and unsure when they meet us for the first time. If they do not hear tales of our gentler side from those who know us best.

The Warrior of Light is a beacon of hope but also a power not to be trifled with lightly and its kind of amazing how they write us.

[estavionpira]

Scion Path To Victory Usage

how to land on planet

how to tell an entity how to land on planet

how to do cpr on wife

how to run cycle

how to run cycle EASY

how to keep outfit clean

how to fight fire

how to destroy nuke

how to rescue cat from tree

how to fight conflict engine

how to kill conflict engine

how to escape time loop

how to have fun

how to kill parahumans

how to find my wife

how to find that fucking bug bitch

how to find my wife

how to find my wife

how to find my wife

how to find my wife

how to find my wife

how to find my wife

how to stop feeling sad

[gee0man]

Rogue Albatross Mackenzie "Mack" Titania Vermilion is the 21st pilot of Garland Vermilion, ancestral frame of House Vermilion, known as the Divine Engine Ancestor.

House Vermilion has dedicated itself to a generation spanning goal; the absolute destruction of the Karrakin Baronies.

Fly True - Motto of House Vermilion

This has been a historical source of friction between the Albatross and House Vermilion, nominally allied against the Baronies. Vermilion has produced some of the greatest Albatross to ever live, as well as some of its most conflicted.

Every scion of Vermilion that becomes an Albatross bears the same burden. Balancing the imperfect reality of the Albatross' ideals, Vermilion's ancient grudge, and the expectations of stewarding the Divine Engine Ancestor. With Mackenzie, its latest champion, that delicate balance has finally broken.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Tears In His Ferrari || Chp 1

Character: Bucky Barnes x Farmer!Reader

Words Count: 2,070

Summary: Bucky Barnes, used to a life of luxury, takes on farm challenges in a bet with his father. Mud-stained Ferraris and a rustic farmhouse lead to unexpected personal growth, guided by the stern mentorship of Y/N, a farmer making his city-boy life difficult.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7 , Chp 8 , Chp 9 , Chp 10 , Chp 11 , Chp 12.

Under the relentless blaze of the scorching sun, Bucky Barnes, the pampered scion of the country's largest retail business, was far removed from the air-conditioned boardrooms of his family's empire. Grumbling incessantly, he swatted away the relentless flies that seemed to thrive in the rural heat. 

"Pick them up gently, Bucky. We don't want scrambled eggs before breakfast," Y/N instructed sternly, her eyes narrowing as Bucky clumsily reached for the first egg. The delicate shell slipped through his fingers, meeting the unforgiving ground with a sharp crack.

"Really, city boy? You gotta treat 'em like they're made of glass," Y/N scolded, her tone unyielding. Bucky, now sporting a mix of irritation and embarrassment, shot back with a sarcastic retort.

"Glass? They're just eggs, not Fabergé. And who knew these chickens were so high-maintenance?"

Bucky, wiping sweat from his brow, replied with a half-smile of his own, “This is absurd. I'm a Barnes, not a farmer.”

How could the sole heir of the country's largest retail company find himself toiling like this? It all stemmed from a bet he made with his father.

2 weeks ago:

Under the glittering Dubai night sky, Bucky, driven by the thrill of rebellion, decided to join a race car event despite his father's explicit warnings. The roar of the engines reverberated through the darkness as Bucky sped along the circuit, the city lights blending into a streak of colors.

As Bucky pulled into the pit garage, the bright lights revealed an unexpected sight – his father, stern-faced and waiting. The realization struck Bucky like a sudden brake, his heart pounding in rhythm with the fading echoes of the race.

His father's disapproval was palpable as he approached, a storm gathering in his gaze.

"Dad!" Bucky exclaimed, but his words were drowned by the tirade that followed. His father, fueled by a mix of anger and concern, chased after him, leaving no room for escape.

The victory that should have been a sweet taste of triumph was overshadowed by the looming storm of his father's wrath.

His father, face etched in a stern expression, strode towards Bucky, a potent mix of anger and disappointment simmering beneath the surface. Bucky's heart sank, realizing that the victory he had just tasted was now tainted by the disapproval in his father's eyes.

"Damn it!" Bucky muttered as he reluctantly shut off the engine and climbed out of the race car. His father's presence loomed over him, a formidable figure casting a shadow on Bucky's moment of recklessness.

His dad, arms crossed, began to unleash a torrent of frustration. "For the whole year, you roamed overseas to live your wildlife. You promised me after graduating that you'd take a year off before entering the company."

Bucky hails from a family that owns the largest retail company in the country, a business empire built over generations. As the sole heir to this colossal enterprise, Bucky enjoys the privileges that come with his family's success. 

Bucky is set to inherit Verve, a retail giant in the country. Despite the family's success, his spoiled and impulsive nature creates a conflict between his privileged upbringing and the responsibilities tied to the business. 

Seated on a nearby bench, Bucky nibbled on his snacks, a subconscious attempt to deflect the gravity of the situation. His eyes, darting between the snacks and his father, conveyed a mix of guilt and defiance.

He heard his father's words but struggled to understand why he, the heir to the family's business empire, should start as an intern when his friends effortlessly landed positions in their family companies.

"Why intern, Dad?" Bucky interjected his tone, a mix of frustration and confusion. "We own the company. Why don't I get the same treatment as my friends?"

The tension in the pit garage hung thick as his father expressed his feelings. "I'm fed up with it!" he declared, his voice a mixture of anger and disappointment.

Bucky, attempting to downplay the situation, replied nonchalantly, "Dad, chill. At least I gained some money from this."

His father responded swiftly and cut, "And you blew it all in a second! How can I trust our company to you?"

He rubbed his chest, a physical manifestation of the stress and disappointment weighing on him. "I feel like our ancestors are judging me. They were never big spenders like you."

A moment of silence followed as both father and son grappled with the underlying issues. Bucky's father couldn't shake the feeling that he had spoiled Bucky too much, especially since the loss of Bucky's mother when he was still young.

Feeling offended, Bucky retorted, "Do you think I can't handle my own money? I could make a million in one week."

"Really?" his father questioned, a skeptical look in his eyes.

Bucky, fueled by pride, affirmed, "Yes."

The challenge was set. Bucky's father nodded, "Alright, if you could make our farm profitable with a million, I will give you any position you want in the company."

"Really?" Bucky's eyes widened, a glimmer of opportunity sparking.

"Yes. If you manage to do it, I will never interfere with your life anymore," his father declared. Both of them shook hands, sealing the deal.

But then came the unexpected twist. "By the way, I'm going to cut all your access to your money," his father dropped the bomb.

"What?" Bucky exclaimed, shock and disbelief etched across his face.

"Your great-grandfather started his business with $100. You need to appreciate money, stop wasting it all in one day," his father explained sternly.

"But how am I going to live without money?" Bucky protested, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.

"I've provided everything you need on the farm," his father countered, emphasizing the gravity of the challenge. "You're my only son, and I don't want you to be a wastrel!"

The moment's intensity lingered in the air as the weight of the challenge and the drastic shift in Bucky's circumstances began to sink in.

Bucky couldn't help but roll his eyes at the daunting challenge ahead. "Fine. I'll show that I can do it on my own. How difficult can it be?" he muttered, perhaps more to reassure himself than anything else.

Oh, how he wished he could take those words back as his Ferrari pulled up to the family farm, the only luxury permitted by his father. To his dismay, the farm appeared desolate and barren, a stark contrast to the lavish lifestyle he was accustomed to.

Bucky, sporting his usual city-boy ensemble of expensive leather shoes and a sleek leather jacket, stepped out of the pristine car only to find the uneven terrain immediately wreaking havoc on his attire. Mud splattered on the once-immaculate leather shoes, a cruel irony of the stark contrast between luxury and the rustic farm reality.

As Bucky surveyed the damage to his meticulously polished shoes, his eyes widened with panic. "No, no, no. You’ve got to be kidding me," he muttered frantically, attempting to wipe away the mud with his hands, only succeeding in making matters worse.

The realization of his Red Ferrari parked amidst the farm's untamed landscape hit him like a ton of bricks.

A look of horror crossed Bucky's face as he surveyed the mud-smeared exterior of his prized possession. "This is not happening," he exclaimed, his voice laced with a mix of disbelief and anxiety.

The once-gleaming Ferrari now stood as a symbol of the clash between opulence and the unyielding demands of rural life, leaving Bucky in a state of mild panic about the fate of his beloved car amid this unexpected farm adventure.

His panic only intensified as he turned his attention to the house assigned to him. It was a far cry from the sleek, modern apartment he was accustomed to. With its weathered exterior and superficial charm, the rustic farmhouse left Bucky in shock. 

"Wait, this is my house?" he stammered, disbelief etched across his face. The reality of the situation sank in, and Bucky grappled with the stark contrast between the urban comfort he knew and the quaint simplicity of his new rural abode.

In sheer disbelief, Bucky scratched his head and pulled at his hair. "How am I going to do this? I'm so dead," he lamented, realizing the task's magnitude.

Just as the weight of the situation began to sink in, a voice disrupted his thoughts. "James Barnes?"

Turning around, Bucky saw a woman seated in a farm truck, wearing a practical flannel grey shirt. She stepped out of the truck, her attire markedly suitable for the farm environment.

Still grappling with the shock of the situation, Bucky mustered a response, "The one and only call me Bucky. And you are?"

Undeterred by his casual attitude, the woman retorted with a smirk, "The one who will make your life miserable."

Bucky's eyes widened in disbelief. "Is this how you introduce yourself when meeting a new person?" he shot back, a mixture of surprise and amusement playing across his face. 

Y/N's face remained stoic, her expression unwavering as she delivered the news to Bucky. "I will be straight to the point; your life won't be easy like in the city," she asserted, leaning down to rest her hands on the wooden rail. "I'll be your mentor."

With a pointed finger, she continued, "We're neighbors. My dad asked me to help you." Her tone hinted at an unspoken determination to ensure Bucky's time in the town would be far from a leisurely escape. She was poised, ready to make him regret ever leaving her domain.

Flashback start

Y/N had returned from the farm two days prior, dropping fresh milk on the kitchen cabinet with plans to make cheese—her mother's favorite. Her family, owners of a dairy farm and several crops, had a livelihood deeply rooted in agriculture. The biggest of their ventures was their dairy farm.

As Y/N washed her hands, her father said their family would assist their new neighbor. Y/N, although accustomed to helping neighbors, Y/N couldn't hide her disdain when she heard the name 'Barnes.' She gritted her teeth at the mere mention of the family.

Her aversion to the 'Barnes' name was reflected in her unyielding body language, a subtle tension in her shoulders, and a clenching of her jaw. The prospect of aiding Bucky, the city boy from the family she held some resentment toward, added an unexpected layer of complexity to her already busy life on the farm.

Years ago, in their relentless pursuit of expanding their retail empire, the Barnes family made a business move that significantly impacted Y/N's family farm. The Barnes Corporation, seeking to acquire more land for development, had set its sights on the quaint farmland owned by Y/N's family.

Despite Y/N's family's resistance and the sentimental value attached to their land, the Barnes Corporation, driven by profit, successfully carried out the acquisition, leaving Y/N's family with no choice but to relinquish the farm that had been in their possession for generations.

The ruthless business dealings and lack of empathy from the Barnes family left a bitter taste in Y/N's mouth.

Despite the Barnes Corporation's relentless pursuit of their farmland, Y/N's family salvaged a small piece of their ancestral land.

But, the memories of losing her family's cherished farm to the corporate giant fueled Y/N's resentment and distaste for the Barnes family. 

Flashback end

Y/N flashed Bucky an assuring smile, though it carried an undercurrent of intimidation. Her expression was a blend of warmth and a silent warning. Bucky, feeling the weight of the unspoken challenge, involuntarily gulped.

It was a realization that, from that moment onward, his life was destined to be anything but easy. The smile that seemed promising also bore the weight of a mentorship that would test his resilience in the unfamiliar terrain of the farm.

Still processing the intensity of Y/N's smile, Bucky mumbled uncertainly, “What have I gotten myself into? ... and I have no clue where this is headed." With a mix of trepidation and curiosity in his eyes, he took a hesitant step forward, realizing that the journey ahead was bound to be far more intricate than he had initially bargained for. 

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7

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[katakaluptastrophy]

So you know how at the end of Nona the Ninth, Harrow doubts that John is god and goes off into the River to find god, who is maybe Alecto?

It turns out we had a clue right at the beginning that John is not the metaphysical engine of the universe of The Locked Tomb...

When Teacher gives the assembled scions at Canaan House a highly selective history of the OG Lyctors, he says:

Those eight necromancers were first after the Lord of Resurrection; they have spread his assumption across the blackness of space.

Remember that John is, in the theology of the Nine Houses, the "God who became man and man who became God." It's never entirely explained what this means to them, but it's clearly intended to riff on Jesus, the 'Word made flesh' (John 1:14), "born in the likeness of men" (Philippians 2:7).

But here's the thing if you're going to be a Catholic-flavoured god: Catholicism has some quite specific terminology for leveling up in terms of heavenly power.

Jesus, who is God, goes up to heaven after the resurrection. This is described as his "ascension" - it's an active process. He is ascending, going to his heavenly throne. He can do that, because he's God. He *is* the rules of the universe and metaphysics. If he wants to fly up into the sky and transcend into another dimension, he can do that, because he's God.

But there are three other people who are understood to have gone up to heaven bodily: Jesus' mum Mary, and the prophets Elijah and Enoch - for all three of them, this is described as their "assumption": it's a passive process, which they aren't doing under their own steam, it's being done by God. In art, this has historically been depicted by showing them being propelled skywards by a writhing mass of cherubs.

So let's get back to Jod.

You know, the man who became god, etc etc etc? The one who resurrected his Lyctors who then "spread his assumption across the blackness of space"?

Either John wasn't paying quite enough attention when going through Catholicism for Dummies or Teacher is being a bit sly here.

So this is a nod, right at the beginning, to the fact that John isn't actually the metaphysical power of the universe that he claims to be.

[autumnslance]

Normally I'd agree many Final Fantasy games have rather young protagonists. It's because they're usually single-player JRPGs made with the assumption of younger players, and like most Young Adult media, create characters that cater to that, even if it ends up with teens running the world and fighting in wars. And for many players, the first time playing these games is in childhood/adolescence/very young adulthood. So it's YA anime.

Final Fantasy XIV does not fall into that same mold, despite the "Teen" rating for legal and distribution purposes.

The majority of the FF14 cast, including the bulk of the main characters, are between 20 and 40 years old (the Scion Archons, Ishgard Elf Husbands). Many other characters are between 40 and 80 (Ishgard's Counts are all late middle aged to elder dads/grandpas, Gaius is mid 50s, Jehantel and Ran'jit are elderly, all still active). The younger characters (especially with any authority or special position) like the Leveilleur twins, are actually outliers. And the youth of the characters between 16 and 20 years old tends to be plot relevant, where that inexperience and naivety causes problems and drives story (Nanamo's arc at the end of ARR into HW, Alphinaud and the Crystal Braves, Ryne's determination of self in ShB, etc).

Characters have a variety of appearances; some characters in the same age ranges look very different. Varis is only 4 years older than X'rhun but Varis's model shows the stress and disagreeableness of his life a lot more than the RDM trainer's. Cid's in his mid-30s but with the beard looks older--and without it he has a baby face (hair color doesn't matter, cuz they do keep the anime trope of "everyone's got white or silver hair"). Lalafell are designed to be anime-cute halflings so it's hard to tell their adult ages even if they've got facial hair like grandfatherly Papashan. The pad'jal of course look like kids, but the youngest main pad'jal is A-Ruhn in his late teens; all the others are adults stuck in adolescent bodies. E-Sumi is a few hundred years old. Kan-E uses various methods to look older so other leaders and people from outside Gridania will take her seriously as an adult. The padjal introduced in the StB WHM quests is a child, and that's the plot; she's not in charge of anything, or has any particularly advanced-for-her-age skills. She's just a kid having a really rough time.

This inability to determine age by looking and assuming isn't just due to limits of the game engine and character creation options; it reflects real life. I met my work team for the first time in person recently; one person looked older than I know them to be, thanks to months of stress and health issues. While all of them were shocked to remember I'm in my 40s as according to them, I "look much younger". Most people are actually pretty bad at guesstimating ages based on appearance, due to the variety of folks' lives.

Speaking of kid characters, many of the children we interact with, like the Doman Adventurers, are between 12 and 14 and act much younger. Khloe has this going on too, with her age "corrected" to 13 (when previously listed as 10), but she acts way younger to me. Most of the actual child characters are treated like children, and it's not until they get to 14-16 (Honoroit, Leveva) that we start to see them treated like maturing adolescents and having some responsibilities, but still young and prone to the kind of choices one expects of less experienced and more emotional youth.

As a MMO, FF14's primary audience is actually adults; teens do play the game, but also age up with it if they keep playing. If a 15 year old began playing with ARR's release, they're in their mid-20s now. Having a primarily adult cast, and treating child characters like children, and adolescents like young people figuring out how young adulthood works, makes sense for this game.

FF14's time bubble is also part of the issue; a developer tool to keep it so they don't have to worry too much about character ages, new models so often, or how long things take in game. Timelines are then intentionally left malleable for the players' benefits, to create our own stories and determine how long things take for our WoLs and their tales. Some folks have their stories pass in real time, some compress it to a year per expac, some expand it out even longer. So the ages the characters have listed in the lorebooks and rarely in game (which is then reflected in online resources), is a starting baseline. Personal headcanons as always should be applied (including changing around some character ages to fit one's own story if necessary).

Also, FF16, made by the same team, has a brief prologue/tutorial section where the main trio is between 10 and 15, guided/trained by adult characters, experience the inciting incident trauma--and then we spend the majority of the game with the main cast in their 20s and 30s. The game also has a mature rating, featuring some sexual situations, lots of violence, and stronger language than other FF games. It's made for adults, and its cast reflects that.

So it is a matter of audience expectations; for a MMO, you're going to have an older and aging player base, and the varied ages of the cast reflect that, as do their varied appearances and experiences as adults. The young characters are treated closer to how their youth should be; still with respect for those in positions like Nanamo, but also prone to errors due to inexperience that drive story. In other FF titles, which were made to be more YA-focused, a teen and young 20s cast were treated much differently. But even in the single-player FF titles, if they are made with adult players in mind, their cast and stories likewise reflect that.

[scribbled-dream]

I’ve finished Elemental Council, the newest T’au book by Noah Van Nyugen—and I love the ending. Spoilers follow.

For those who aren’t familiar, the book follows a crack team of T’au specialists pulled together by Ethereal Yor’i, to create a council of specialists to deal with a Human rebellion on the newly conquered world of Cao Quo.

This revolt is led by the Space Marine Artamax, and complicated by further matters—A growing sect of T’au supremacists called the Syra, who consider humanity to be a blight upon the Empire.

Throughout the book, the question is asked: Are Humanity worthy of being in the T’au empire? Are they more than they seem, ignorant and brutal?

We see this through the viewpoints of several T’au, all of who come to slowly see their pity, indifference, hatred and guilt over humanity and the actions they’ve done in service to the Tau Empire against the Human rebels as flawed, and that they need to give Humanity the same chance they were given by Yor’i.

We see this clearly through Yor’i himself—he has a Gue’vesa bodyguard, one of exceedingly high status to be guarding the ranking Ethereal on the planet. Yor’i views his bodyguard, Jules, with gratitude, but acknowledges that he is not T’au. He will never be as close to them as the Ethereal is.

Jules, too, is a complicated man, serving the T’au as a former Scion, turned by another Ethereal who he formed a close friendship with. He knows his place in the Empire is distinct, and the other characters often look at his position with confusion or scorn—confused as to why an Ethereal would have a Human to guard his life.

They soon see why, as Jules dies against Artamax—giving his life for the Greater Good to save the Fireblade protagonist, who voices continual confusion at his devotion.

A Gue’vesa backtalking a Space Marine? An anomaly.

And yet, we see again. The Humans given a second chance by the T’au repeat this behavior, with the Gue’vesa Fleet Admiral Hillar, unsure of who to support between the rebels and the T’au. Hillar wants to support the rebels, and ideologically disagrees with Artamax’s methods, desiring peace.

Hillar defies Artamax, and dies for it. The young Earth Caste Engineer, Ke, initially confused by Human independence and defiance, and exceedingly desirous of peace, learns to empathize with the life she failed to save.

All of this leads us to the ending. The twist. The group takes a Kroot into their entourage, Ghodeh—who only wants to feast on the Marine, absorb his knowledge.

Through his scent, he finds that Yor’i is not who he seems, instead a Callidus Assasin in disguise. It is barely perceptible—unless one pays attention to Yor’i’s sharp twists in mood toward the Humans, and Jules in particular.

Yor’i is initially stoic and silent about his connection to Jules, but is found by the Fireblade Swordlight to be kind and understanding of Jules, vouching for him—after he dies, there is a stark shift in his behavior.

Yor’i goes from loyalty and kindness to Humanity, to hatred, indifference, and cold apathy.

And then, we learn the twist—it doesn’t make sense, because it’s not meant to. This is NOT Yor’i—rather, a foul thing wearing his skin, a Callidus skinwalker.

The real Yor’i is taken in by a Human family—and cared for, protected. This is the true nature of humanity—a kind one.

The Callidus is slain much like the Marine—by the lowest of the low—the Earth Caste engineer. And although Ghodeh does not get to taste the Marine’s sacred flesh, he learns to accept that he can control his hunger—out of respect.

Then, we come to the ending. The T’au garrison at Cao Quo is consumed by violence and fire, rioting fills the streets, falling into ignorance and fear just like the Imperium. This is where the average 40k fan would say it should end, because there can be no peace among the stars—

but the fic proves everyone wrong.

There can be peace. There can be unity, and empathy. It is hard to reach for, even harder to name—but it is THERE.

[itsmaferart]

SPY x FAMILY x CHAIR Vol. 7~8~9

SxF Vol 7 · Damian Desmond - Willow Chair

The Willow Chair was designed by Scottish architect Charles Rennie Mackintosh in the early 20th century. The chair was originally designed for use in The Willow Tea Rooms Company, a cafe and tea room that Mackintosh also designed in Glasgow, Scotland. The chair was part of a larger collection of furniture pieces designed for this company.

The concept of tea rooms was popular in Victorian and Edwardian times, and was considered a meeting place for the upper middle class.

The design shows a progressive approach to design, suggesting that the chair is at the forefront of creative thinking and is sleek, modern and curious. It stands out for its simplicity in geometric patterns. The chair features straight, minimalist lines in its structure, with curved wooden elements at the top to provide head and neck support.

A distinctive feature is its triangular backrest, which extends upward from the arms at an acute angle to create a sleek and elegant silhouette. The seat also features an elaborate lattice pattern, made from hand-woven wicker, which adds texture and dimension to the chair.

I’m Damian, scion of the Desmond family! I’ll be a politician one day and protect this country!

I love the way the dimension of the chair in disproportionate to Damian's body, who is clearly a kid with a very big precedent behind him, a very big ego and pride in possessing the last name Desmond, and it projects very well the way it makes Damian look more imposing for his age while giving you a look that continually judges you, adorably.

Damian is someone who projects himself from greatness, and his constant yearnings to be a recognized figure such as his family, even so, his childlike soul continues to exist.

However deep down, behind all the Desmond pride (Reflected in the chair) are his yearnings to really have fun and enjoy his childhood wanting to play with his balls, read manga, play with dinosaurs. He is definitely a little boy with a lot behind his shoulders.

SxF Vol 8 · Franky Franklyn - Eames Lounge chair & Ottoman

The Eames Lounge Chair and Ottoman were designed by Charles and Ray Eames in 1956, an American designer couple.

It was created from the idea of a "comfortable as a glove" chair, with an ergonomically molded seat and back shell combined with a plywood base. It was originally designed for the Herman Miller furniture company.

It was designed to provide comfort and relaxation, elegant and attractive that will complement any living space. The chair features clean, simple lines and a minimalist structure that emphasizes its elegance and ergonomics. The base is made of plywood, bent in several layers and smoothly polished to give it a smooth, refined finish.

Can we talk about how relaxed and cool Ostania's best informant looks? I love how the combination of this chair reflects Franky's relaxed but refined personality, a genius at his job even if often not properly appreciated. However, we can see his details, a bit messy, his taste for money, some good cigars, some confidential envelopes.

It's interesting when you remember that Franky seems to hate the handsome, moneyed show-offs who seem to be very lucky, even though he wishes he was one. He is simple and laid back, with a classy side and a profitable bottom line.

SxF Vol 9 · Becky Blackbell  - Coconut Chair

The Coconut chair was designed by architect and designer George Nelson in 1955 who was the design director for Herman Miller.

The chair was inspired by the designer's tropical landscape during his visit to the Fiji Islands. Nelson observed a group of children playing with one half of a coconut shell and realized that the shape and curve of the coconut shell could be harnessed to design a comfortable, modern chair. It was created as a highly engineered piece of furniture that offered a high level of comfort.

Although originally designed as a lounge chair, the Coconut chair is suitable for any space, from offices to homes. The stainless steel tripod base is an attractive design element, its fine details such as the apparent stitching on the upholstered

"You and I should be best friends"

I like how both the Coconut chair and Becky could be described as elegant, sophisticated, avant-garde and with a lot of personality. Despite her young age, we know that Becky has a very definite personality, sometimes with a very volatile and fanciful imagination.

Unlike many Spy x Family characters and their respective chairs, the elements are usually placed at the back or bottom with respect to the chair, always covered by some slight shadow, reflecting those elements that characterize the respective personality.

However, all of Becky's things are clearly displayed and stacked with bright colors. We know that it refers to all the riches and luxuries Becky has, as well as her passion for fashion and shopping.

But also, it's a way of expressing how authentic Becky is and how she's not afraid to show her true personality without having to hide it.

You can read the previous review here!

You can read the next part here

[andreisvechnikov]

Hurricanes’ Seth Jarvis leans into status as an honorary Harvard grad

By: Luke Decock, April 24, 2024

When Tripp Tracy was asked to speak at a meeting of the Harvard Club of the Research Triangle last week, he naturally invited the Carolina Hurricanes’ two other Harvard Men to join him. Jack Drury, owner of a Harvard diploma, class of 2023. Seth Jarvis, owner of a “Harvard Alumni” T-shirt, class of not quite veritas.

Neither Drury nor Jarvis could attend because of the team’s pre-playoff dinner gathering, but Jarvis was nevertheless welcome despite his self-proclaimed “Grade 6” education, because if there’s one thing that’s true about the Hurricanes’ third-year forward above all else, it’s that if you try to make him the butt of a joke, even a heartfelt, good-natured one, he’ll find a way to turn it back around on you.

When Drury returned from his Cambridge graduation last summer with the crimson T-shirt as a gift for Jarvis, he never expected Jarvis to cut off the sleeves.

He never expected Jarvis to make it his undershirt and wear it under his shoulder pads every single day of the season. For every practice. Every game. Every postgame interview.

“I thought, there’s no better way to put it to use than cut it into a tank top and wear it under my gear,” Jarvis said.

Seth Jarvis. Harvard alum. The shirt says so.

“There have been a few people who have seriously asked me if I went to Harvard,” Jarvis said, “and they’ve obviously never had a conversation with me.”

The Hurricanes have always had a strong connection to Harvard, through Tracy and his youth teammate and future front-office executive Jason Karmanos, through players like Craig MacDonald and Craig Adams.

They’ve had players from the rest of the hockey-playing Ivy League schools as well, other than Brown: Jeff Hamilton (Yale), Kevin Westgarth (Princeton), Lee Stempniak (Dartmouth), Riley Nash (Cornell). Now Drury. And, apparently, Jarvis.

“I think it’s been awesome,” Tracy said. “I would have liked to have had him on the roster.”

Even within the hockey world, it’s hard to imagine two teammates as different as the goofy Manitoban and the cosmopolitan Harvard grad becoming so close. Jarvis left home at 14 to play junior hockey in the Western Hockey League and was in the NHL by age 18.

Drury, scion of a prominent hockey family, spent two years at Harvard and another year overseas in Sweden; even though Drury is two years older than Jarvis, Jarvis has played more than 100 more NHL games than Drury.

The two are akin to brothers as much as they are friends or teammates, so when Drury gave Jarvis the shirt, it was with the best of intentions. Still, give Jarvis an inch or two, he’ll take all 200 feet, same in the dressing room as on the rink.

“I got it for him hoping he would wear it,” Drury said. “Using it as the undershirt, I love that. I didn’t know he’d do that. Once he started to do it, I thought it was awesome. He’s a character. But you couldn’t have a better guy around the room.”

Every single day, the shirt goes into his laundry bag to be laundered with the rest of the team’s base layers, an old-school throwback amid the sweat-wicking, high-tech gear.

By now, seven months into the season, as the Hurricanes head north for Thursday’s Game 3 against the New York Islanders with a 2-0 lead in their first-round series, the T-shirt should probably be in tatters. It looks just fine. Other than the missing sleeves.

“It’s hung on,” Jarvis said. “It’s high quality. Only the best at Harvard.”

At the end of the regular season, when Jarvis sat in on the Bally Sports broadcast with Tracy and Mike Mansicalco while sitting out Game 82, he told Tracy he would have liked to major in “micro-macro engineering” at Harvard, which sounds like a typical Jarvis malaprop, mishmashing economics and engineering. But it also could very well be somebody’s bespoke “special concentration” in Harvard’s engineering school, studying “theories of engineering principles” or the “interactions between microscopic innovation and large system models.”

Jarvis, with his elite hockey IQ and even quicker wit, may be more evidence that you don’t have to be book smart to be smart. He plays up the dopey-goofball angle because it gets laughs — “There’s still a lot of stupidity going on throughout my day,” Jarvis said — and won the Josef Vasicek Award this season for his quotability, but he’s the son of two educators, and there’s a spark that animates both his personality and his game, burning bright under all the self-deprecating humor.

“He plays a little dumb, but he’s pretty smart actually,” Martin Necas said. “I’m positive. He’s pretty smart. He just makes himself look like it on purpose, sometimes.”

Watching his game grow over the past two seasons, as he spent last year becoming a two-way player and this season reaping the rewards, it’s fair to wonder what would happen if he applied himself in the classroom as he has to his hockey career. Who knows what might be possible.

“It’s never too late,” Drury said. “He plays it up a little bit but he’s smarter than people realize. He’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

And the T-shirt over his shoulders to sort-of prove it.

[velvet-cupcake-games]

Made Marion: Small Patch and Holiday Devlog

Version 2.1 EA Release

We have released a small bugfix/update patch.  Here are the notes, which you can also find on Steam and Itch.io.

Uploaded the final version of Will's final CG (Spontaneous Ending). If you unlocked the in-progress version, you can see the final version in your Art Gallery in Extras.

Misc. typo fixes and editing pass over the Love Interest PoV Scenes.

Will's Sunjati name has been changed to Iyiola as we were informed that his previous Sunjati name was unintentionally funny/awkward for modern West African readers.

Altered "you can leave your hat on" joke/reference because due to sprite limitations he literally can't.

Small blocking issue solved: Will's route was blocked at the end of Sherwood Chapter 2 if you first asked about Layton. This has been fixed.

Made Marion Holiday Devlog

Our first patch was originally meant to expand Robin's love scenes to match the length of Will's (and the length that they will be from here on out), but a hard drive burp ate my writing and I'll have to redo it all. That'll show me not to forget to back up to Github.  Since I want to get going with John ASAP, Robin's updated love scenes will be released along with John's route.

I'm now outlining and idea boarding John's route. It's going to be quite the contrast from Will's, in which two young scions yearning to have control over their own destinies came together. In John's route we have the meeting of two responsible young people who were forced by circumstance to grow up before they were ready.

John is kind, protective, and can be stubborn in his own way. Despite technically being Robin's second, he's used to being the captain that steers the ship. So is Marion. When they meet, will she take it as an opportunity to let go and be protected for once, or will she challenge John's need to always act as the bulwark between the world's dangers and the people he loves?

Your choices will lead to different kinds of love and different kinds of struggles as you work toward the Challenge or Compromise Ending.

Art Team Priorities

Here's what our artists are up to:

Arrapso (Sprites, CGs) is creating some sprite models that are not wearing their trousers, for when I have sprites zoomed in during love scenes in which they're supposed to be naked. We still won't be showing anything below the waist, but some of our gents have some fairly high waists on their trousers and the visible belts were bugging me.

Lawrichai (cut-ins, lore intro) is concentrating on the animated lore intro. We've decided to make it a full animated movie instead of doing smaller animations in-engine, so Lawri has picked up Live2D and is animating away!  I'm excited to see what she puts together!

Here we have some cool, possible Fae Lord sketches for the intro:

Sandra (backgrounds, creatures, cut-in assist) has finished all the backgrounds I currently need, and with FIFTY BGs plus many variations, I'm doing my level best not to need any more! We only have one more creature to design (Lord Geoffrey's favorite hunting hound), so she has graciously agreed to help us with cut-ins so that Lawrichai can focus on the lore intro and love scene illustrations.

Happy Holidays!

We will be taking December off from updates, so I should have some nice John route news to share when we return mid-January, 2025.  I hope you all have a lovely holiday season, or if the holiday season is not lovely for you, that you persevere and are able to take time for yourself.

[lansplaining]

I’ve decided to consolidate my brainrot

SO YOU’VE BEEN TADPOLED au

characters are chosen not so much for personality matches as for who would best pick their plot threads

Wei Wuxian is of course a necromancer wizard who needs to snack on magic artefacts because of a teeeeeny little mistake that wasn’t even his fault really!! except all the ways it was! I’m sure he won’t be tempted by either self immolation or the chance to grab the power to reunite with his family.

Jin Guangyao is a trickery cleric of Shar, who comes to learn that the Father Superior is in fact his real dad, holding his Selûnite priestess mother captive.

Jiang Cheng is of course a disgraced scion of Baldur’s Gate, who soul his soul to a devil to protect the city but can’t tell anyone about it, and definitely isn’t still desperate for his dad’s approval.

Lan Wangji is a devoted Githyanki fighter whose faith in his whole world is shaken when he discovers that the power behind Jin Guangyao’s mysterious artefact is none other than his own mother, imprisoned by his father. He decides to work together with his uncle to free her and overthrow his father. Incidentally, he was in Hell looking for…

Lan Xichen, kidnapped during a mission gone wrong and sold to the archdevil Zariel. Being in Avernus corrupted his powers so now he is a wild magic barbarian with an infernal engine for a heart. Also Zariel turned him into a tiefling idk.

ok here’s the ones I’ll get in trouble for

Xiao Xingchen is a vampire spawn who has spent 200 years being tormented by the vampire Xue Yang, who forces him to seduce and kill innocents. Maybe if he gained infernal power, he could silence this hunger and begin to atone for his wrongs…?

Nie Huaisang is a lore bard with some… memory issues. He comes to learn that he is Bhaalspawn, and used to be heir to the Cult of Bhaal until his older brother, in a fit of their hereditary murderous rage, decided he was an unfit heir and attacked and left him for dead.