#MM 212

[moths-daily]

Moth Of The Day #212

Lily Moth / Indian Lily Moth

Polytela gloriosae

From the noctuidae family. They have a wingspan of about 29 mm. They are found in Sri Lanka and possibly Indonesia.

Image sources: [1] [2]

[calmcoldevening]

Pov: You knew slashers, when you was a child (Slashers x fem!reader)

I'm back! Well, it os a lazy post from my drafts, until I end my new idea <3

TW: no

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, brothers Sinclair

P.S.: English is not my native language, so lot of these words was translated by simple translator, sorry for misspells and e.t.c.

Enjoy this!

Thomas Hewitt

The transition to a new school has always been a great stress for a child, especially in the middle of the school year.

You and your parents often moved from city to city. Maybe it was their work, or maybe they just wanted to show you as many different places as possible so that your childhood would remain really memorable — you didn't know. But the constant moving was followed by a change of schools and kindergartens. On the one hand, you liked it — new acquaintances, interests and a lot of positive emotions, after all, you were a cheerful and active child — but it also brought its inconveniences — you didn't have "best" friends, you had no more than a couple of months to communicate with each of them, and multiple the change of the team has made you a real chameleon in society.

You were ten years old when you and your parents moved to Texas. The age when most classes have already been divided into peculiar interest groups, which are quite difficult for a new person to join. That's why your mom decided to bake cookies that you could distribute to new classmates. Who doesn't like homemade cakes? You actively participated in the cooking process. A little more practice, and you could learn these cookies on your own. As soon as the treat was ready — several pieces were successfully taken away by your father — your mother beautifully put it in a colored box, now tied with a ribbon. The inscription "Welcome" was painted on the lid in gold paint.

It was very hot in this area of Texas. Therefore, on your first day of school, you decided to limit yourself to a beautiful white T-shirt with some simple pattern and black shorts. The first impression is the most important, right? Your mom took you to school by car. At the reception desk, your mom introduced you and found out the number of the right office. After kissing you goodbye on the cheek, she left you to your own luck. Although you were already used to it, a nervous feeling of anticipation bubbled somewhere in your chest; your palms were sweating.

After a good seven minutes, you were standing in front of the right class, 212, clutching a box of cookies to your chest. Adjusting the strap of the gray backpack, you exhaled anyway.

Your homeroom teacher, Mrs. Sullivan, introduced you in the office. A lovely woman with curly locks hanging down on both sides of her face and freckled cheeks. Her soft figure, dressed in a white blouse and a black pencil skirt, caused a surge of strength and confidence in you. The woman lightly put her arm around your shoulders, so motherly, and asked you to tell about yourself.

"My name is Y/N Y/L," your voice trembled slightly while your gaze ran over the children sitting in the classroom, "I'm ten. I like animals and beading... Mm, my parents and I move around a lot, so I don't think I'll stay here for more than two months. I hope we'll become friends."

You ended your performance with a sincere warm smile. Mrs. Sullivan asked you to take an empty seat. Your choice fell on the farthest place by the window; a guy was sitting behind it, hunched over and staring at the street. Was he weird? No, rather unusual. He had long black hair, so unusual for a boy; his gaze was lowered somewhere on the dusty road near the school, so you couldn't see his eyes. Sitting down next to him, you quickly took out a notebook and pencil from your backpack.

"Hello?"

The boy seemed startled by your voice. He looked at you uncertainly, and you saw a face wrapped in bandages. Sad cornflower blue eyes peeked out from under the white cloth.

"I'm Y/N," you whisper, holding out your hand to the boy, "And what's your name?"

There was no response. Disappointed, you lowered your hand, now paying attention to the teacher's explanation. The woman was writing down her words on the blackboard, and you quickly began copying them into your notebook, clutching a pencil until it crackled.

There was something about this boy that attracted you. It doesn't matter if it was his shyness or isolation — you decided that you definitely want to make friends with him.

At recess, you approached a group of girls. They were dressed up like girls from fashion magazines that you often saw in kiosks by the road.

"Hi," — you said with a light smile.

"Well, hello," said one of the girls, popping a bubble of gum.

"I want to ask. M, that boy," you pointed to the long—haired boy, "What's his name? I asked, and he ignored me."

"Haha, he won't answer you. That's our little Tommy," another girl hissed sarcastically, giggling, "Thomas Hewitt is weird. Very strange. I heard that his father is his brother!"

"And he's also a terrible freak!"

You awkwardly put your hand in your hair. Thomas didn't look as disgusting as the girls described him. It's all rumors. And what to take from these children, they probably didn't even try to talk to Hewitt!

You didn't talk to this company anymore. After waiting for lunch, when all the children went out to the garden at the school, you again approached the boy. He didn't budge. It seems he hasn't even written anything since you sat down next to him.

"Hey, hello?" you waved your palm in front of the guy's face, "Thomas, right?"

This time the boy paid attention to you. There was no emotion visible under the thick layer of bandages, but you were sure that he arched an eyebrow questioningly. He's wondering how you know his name?

"You were sitting alone, so I came over. Your name is Thomas, right?" you repeated the question, finally the boy nodded, "That's wonderful! I'm Y/N, let's get acquainted."

Smiling happily, you hand the guy an open box of cookies. Golden crust with chocolate chips. You had no desire to share such a delicious thing with such terrible and tactless people. And Tommy. Tommy was different. He was timid and calm, unable to cause harm.

"Help yourself," you babble, sitting down next to Hewitt, "I made them myself! Not without my mommy's help, of course..."

You blush slightly and see Thomas's eyes narrow. He smiled! He seems to be starting to like your company.

"Can I call you Tommy?"

• Thomas has become noticeably happier since you met him. The boy began to spend more time outside the house, in your company (Luda was very surprised by this, because usually after school Tommy always came home and sat in his room).

• For your birthday, Thomas himself sewed a soft toy for you, a fox, as he found out later, this is one of your favorite animals. The toy was sewn from different, but matching pieces of fabric, a little sloppy, but quite skillfully. It made you smile. You threw your arms around Hewitt for joy.

• Once you praise him, Tommy immediately blushes a lot. It's good that it's not visible under the layer of bandages. From the moment you became friends, Thomas's self-esteem has risen a little.

• When you first offered to help Thomas change the bandages, he strongly refused. The boy just couldn't let you see his face. But when he finally gave up, Hewitt was pleasantly surprised that you didn't scream and run away. You didn't call Tommy a freak or a monster, but only sympathetically stroked his scarred cheeks.

• Over time, you began to understand Thomas without words, absolutely. You found the right answers in his movements, grunting, awkward head turning or excessive gesticulation. Even Luda was a little amazed at your nonverbal communication, but the woman was glad that her son finally found a real friend.

• Tommy often showed you his drawings. It was like the scribble of a five-year-old child, but you were always happy to accept the leaves and hang them over your bed. Basically, Thomas drew his family: angry Charlie in the corner of the paper, Monty sitting next to him in a chair, a little further away, Luda was cooking, and in the center of the drawing you and Thomas holding hands and smiling.

• It was the first time you begged your parents to stay in this city longer. Fortunately, they agreed after seeing your enthusiasm for the "strange boy".

Brahms Heelshire

• Your parents and the Healers kept in touch for a while, you can say your families were very close. You first met Brahms on his fifth birthday. He was a very well-mannered but private boy, so Mrs. Heelshire was only too happy to introduce you.

• At first, your communication did not work out. Brahms was a rude child in places, took away your toys and teased you.

• His true attitude towards you showed up when you didn't come to his house, although you were visiting the Heelshire family every Monday and Wednesday. He was seriously worried. All morning Brahms sat in his room by the window and looked at the road going through the forest, waiting for your little body in your favorite blue dress to appear from behind the trees. But you were never there. It turned out that you were just sick. That day Brahms went to your house and did not leave your bed, squeezing your hot palm.

• Your parents worked most of the time, so they were not against your games with Heelshire Jr. You stayed in their house more and more often, sometimes even overnight, and you and Brahms made noise all night, forcing his mother to swear. But still, the woman was glad that at least Brahms was behaving quite comfortably and boldly with someone.

• You were only a couple of months younger than Brahms, but you thought it was a good reason to tease you.

• The boy allowed you to enter his room without knocking, consider it a worthwhile privilege, because Heelshire does not let everyone into his personal space.

• When you were sad, Brahms brought you bouquets of flowers hastily made with his own hands. That's why his palms were green most of the time.

• Brahms makes wonderful sandwiches. He often makes them when the two of you are having a "picnic" in the garden. Although in fact he agrees to it only to admire you.

• Heelshire loves sweets very much. Very. His mom doesn't allow the boy a lot of sweets and cakes, so you secretly bring them to him from home. The boy is insanely happy.

• Brahms loves kissing. This habit, or rather the need, appeared in him because you praised the boy in this way. Has he finally cleaned the room? A kiss. Did he break his mom's precious vase during the catch-up today? A kiss! So now he can demand them for any reason. He especially likes it when you kiss him before going to bed, and Brahms falls asleep hugging you.

• You're his best friend. That's why Brahms trusts you with all his secrets. You are the only one to whom he has told about the strange and frightening thoughts that sometimes sound in his head.

"Good night," Mrs. Heelshire said, turning off the light and closing the door behind her.

You smile and blow her a kiss, covering your mouth with your palm. When the woman's footsteps recede, you exhale with relief, plopping down on the pillow with force. Squinting your eyes, you wrinkle your nose, trying to blow away the stuck strands of hair from your face. Brahms giggles and gently tucks your hair behind your ear.

The room is cool. The window is slightly ajar, letting in a light autumn wind. The curtains are swaying from side to side, taking chaotic frightening shadows.

You get under the covers up to your nose. Brahms follows your example, pressing his whole body against you, and you stroke his head.

"If I ever do something very, very bad, will you stay with me?" Heelshire whispers, looking up at you.

You look into his sad emerald eyes and laugh. He likes to put pressure on your pity, because he knows that at such moments you see him as a tiny abandoned kitten.

"I don't think you'd do anything so bad, Brahms."

"But if I do. What if everyone turns away from me. Even mom and dad. Will you stay with me?"

You pressed your lips together, frowning. Brahms had never asked such strange questions before. And how can a child who is only eight years old think about something like that after a while. Looking down at the ceiling, you turned your head, looking into Brahms' eyes.

"Yes. I'll stay."

"Honestly?" Heelshire asks incredulously.

"Honestly."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise you, silly boy!" you abruptly cover his face with a blanket, holding the edges on both sides of his head.

The boy was kicking, trying to get out from under your weight, while you tried not to laugh. Taking pity on his futile attempts, you took off the blankets, admiring Brahms' flushed face. Heelshire was breathing heavily, and his cheeks and nose were burning like Chinese lanterns that your parents launched on your birthday.

"I won. Again," you grin.

Brahms is silent. You sigh and lie down again, turning your back to Heelshire. Your eyes are shining with joy, and your lips continue to curve in a smug grin. You know that Brahms will not dare to do something to you in return. He always let you get away with such antics. Absolutely always.

When you are ready to fall asleep, through the chatter in your head you hear a plaintive whisper. Having opened your leaden eyelids, you groan with displeasure.

"Kiss me," Brahms whines, and you get up on your elbows, chuckling softly.

"Okay," you kiss Heelshire on the lips, "Good night, Brahms."

• "Now I've won," Brahms croaks, pressing you against the wall and spreading his hands on both sides of your head. Just like a child. Except now he's not the victim here, but you. Although was he ever a victim in your games? Rather, he always played the role of a presenter, you just didn't notice it, as if you were looking through your fingers. And who would have thought that that innocent little boy would ever stand in front of you, towering over your body by a good two heads, and grinning with eyes shining in anticipation through the black slits of the mask.

Sinclairs

Christmas is the most mysterious and magical holiday of the year; the day when the whole family gathers at one big table to properly celebrate this moment together; the day when you receive a lot of gifts from all kinds of relatives, which you sometimes did not realize; the day when all wishes come true.

You clumsily shuffled along the road, shaking your back every now and then to adjust the heavy backpack. Things inside rattled a lot, and you tried to straighten your back faster to avoid crumpled packages.

Christmas was your favorite holiday. And although your parents have been working constantly lately, you were glad that you could spend this family holiday with your friends.

You met not so long ago, only about four months ago, when you first moved here. Ambrose turned out to be a very nice and cozy city with friendly and caring people. Mrs. Sinclair, Trudy, and your mom became friends right away— their interests converged on art. That's when I met her sons, the woman suggested that you make friends with them because of their similar age. And it turned out to be a very good idea. The boys quickly became addicted to you.

Once again adjusting the canvas straps of the backpack, you quickly climb the steps requested by the snow and knock on the sand-colored door several times. On the other side, there is a fussy shuffling and dissatisfied grumbling.

"Hello," you say, smiling, when the door swings open in front of you, revealing a view of the timid Vincent.

The guy nods to you and opens the door wider, motioning you to enter. You kiss Sinclair on the cheek of the mask. Brushing off your feet at the threshold, you quickly take off your shoes and leave your backpack at the shoe shelf. Music from an old radio is coming from the kitchen, some station unknown to you is playing old songs from the seventies. As soon as you entered the room, Vincent stood at the stove again, frying something in a frying pan. Whenever Trudy was busy making figures and arranging a museum that she someday wanted to open, it was Vincent who did the cooking and other household duties. Bo was stubborn and didn't want to do "women's" work, and Lester was still too young for such a large-scale activity. The latter was now sitting at the table and skillfully sliced an apple with a hunting knife into neat pieces.

"Morning, Lester," passing by the boy, you leave a small kiss on his forehead.

"Hi, Y/N!" Sinclair winces contentedly, flapping his big copper eyes.

You sit down next to the boy and imperceptibly take a piece of apple from under his nose, throwing it into his mouth contentedly. There were already several plates and cutlery on the table. Vincent loved order, so he prepared everything in advance.

"Where's Bo?" you ask, rocking slightly in your chair, for which you get a menacing look from Vincent.

"Mom asked him to help at the museum," Lester replied, "He should be back soon."

You notice how Vincent turns off the stove and turns his whole body in your direction. The guy takes a notebook lying on the table and quickly scribbles something.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"Yes," you say shortly, when Vincent closes the notebook and puts it back, "Honestly."

Sinclair puts the hot omelette on plates and pushes you a bowl of oatmeal cookies. You happily take one piece. Vincent sits down across from Lester and lifts the mask just enough to see his mouth. You frown, noticing the edge of his deep scar.

"Hey everyone," it was heard from the threshold, when the front door slammed shut with force, "Oh, honey, and you're here," Bo walks past you, lightly touching your shoulder in greeting, and sits down next to Vincent.

During brunch, you watch Lester and Bo actively negotiate. When their plates are empty, you decide to step in.

"Since everyone is here," you babble happily, clapping your hands to attract the attention of the guys, "I want to give you gifts a little earlier than planned, do you mind?"

"Of course not," Bo abruptly pushed away from the table, "I'm all for it, babe."

Bo winked at you playfully, to which you rolled your eyes. Vincent signed something, and you looked at Lester. Your sign language was not yet good enough to understand most of the phrases, you barely remembered the words of politeness. That's why you've always relied on little Lester at times like this.

"He said: "Why are you doing this so early?"", Lester explained, innocently blinking his eyes.

"What's the difference," Bo frowned, "Sooner or later — the main thing is that she gave."

You didn't comment on the elder Sinclair's words, but just got up from the table and went to your backpack resting in the hallway. When you came back, the brothers were already sitting in a kind of semicircle on the floor. Bo sprawled impressively closer to the sofa and grinned in anticipation; Lester, in his usual manner, sat cross-legged; while Vincent tucked his knees to his chest.

You sat down between the twins and put the backpack next to you, unzipping it. You said "Close your eyes" and, as soon as the boys fulfilled your request, you began to take out colorful boxes. All packages had the same color, different sizes. Alternately, you put the gifts in front of them and allowed them to watch. Lester giggled when he saw that his box was the biggest.

"Merry Christmas," you drawled, spreading your arms out to the sides.

The very first gift was opened by Lester. The boy happily tore open the package, scattering the paper around him, and screamed when he saw the cherished surprise. A big stuffed fawn. He had a soft beige body and neat brown horns sticking out in different directions. The muzzle was cheerful, with a big nose and shiny button eyes.

"I knitted it especially for you," you babble, smiling, when Lester looks up at you with an enthusiastic look.

"Thank you!" the boy throws himself on your neck with lightning speed, squeezing your body until the bones crunch; you stroke his back.

Bo was a little surprised when he saw a set of tools under the wrapper. He loved tinkering and was well versed in mechanics; the fact that you remembered about this hobby touched the guy a little; his lips curved in a slight smile.

"Well, thanks, babe," Bo grins, patting your hair.

You're pouting a little. All the time spent in the morning combing this tangled nest has gone to waste. You are dissatisfied with blowing off a few strands that caught your eye.

The last person to open his gift was Vincent. The boy very tenderly unwrapped the package, not trying to tear it, as if stretching and savoring this moment. You watched the deft but careful movements of his fingers with burning impatience. Finally, Sinclair took off all the paper, removing it from the side, and looked down at what he saw. A large set with colored pencils. Exactly the one that the boy looked at with undisguised envy in the window of an art store about a month ago. Did you remember that? With slightly trembling hands, Vincent takes the box and turns it in his hands. There were several more drawing pads under it.

Vincent looks at you, and you see the trembling gaze of his azure eyes in the slits of the mask. Such unbelievers, but at the same time grateful. You crawl up to the boy and hug him tightly, nuzzling his neck. Vincent lets out a ragged sigh.

"Merry Christmas to you, boys," you congratulate them once again, seeing the boys' satisfied smiles.

"So why did you decide to give it to us so early?" Lester asked, clutching the toy to his chest.

"Oh, that," you awkwardly fix your hair, "Well, my parents decided to leave. To another state. We'll leave tonight. So I thought I could have some fun with you now."

There was an oppressive silence in the room. You were afraid to look up, but you could feel the disappointment on the boys' faces. Your heart was painfully squeezed in your chest, from which you gritted your teeth with a creak.

"Will you come back?" Bo broke the silence.

"I don't know. Dad was offered a job in another state. Mom just said I wouldn't be able to see you."

You looked at each of the boys in turn. Vincent's head drooped, Bo's brows furrowed, and Lester's lips tightened into a crooked thread. The elder Sinclair sighed heavily.

"We'll be waiting. All together," he looked at you from under his brows, "Just try not to come back to us."

• Vincent loves sweets; but, often, Bo takes most of the goodies. That's why you put an envelope with several edible bracelets in one of the donated notebooks. Bo will probably consider them girly and will not take them away from his brother.

• You have been knitting a fawn for Lester for about five days; the boy is very happy with your gift. Your relationship is like a brother and a scary sister. He is always ready to rely on you; Sinclair is glad that he has such a caring person, unlike the same brothers (in particular Bo).

• Trudy adores you. You could say that in these few months she began to perceive you as her own daughter. You even know where the spare keys to the back door of the house are.

• Bo always tries to impress you as a self-sufficient high school student. He saw his father's old magazines with tackles, seduction and other materials not for children, so he decided to train on you. He didn't notice how he fell in love.

• Vincent is a good cook.

• Most of Vinnie's drawings in the new notebooks are you. He will paint your portraits for many years after your leaving.

[arthistoryanimalia]

Good news folks, 1913 calendars work for 2025!

Theo van Hoytema (Dutch, 1863-1917) “Calendar page for January 1913 with a proud white peacock; at the bottom of the sheet two mice.” Tresling & Comp., 1912. Color lithography, H 418 x W 212 mm Rijksmuseum RP-P-1938-1737

[bellobambino]

The Claim That Broke the Camel's Back

828 words

Summary: Frustrated CS student, Luigi Mangione, battles the maddening bureaucracy of his insurance company while juggling midterms and back pain. An underwhelming trip to Panda Express inspires him to make a change. Luigi's POV Author's Note: I could write about incompetent insurance reps all day. My whole life is working with this broken fucking system. Free Luigi.

I'm on my third cold brew of the day to get ready for this evening Machine Learning lecture. I'm wired, to say the least. I've written down a few questions I have for the professor that I'm hoping will be covered by the midterm review he's “gifting” us today. 

"Good evening, folks!" he booms, addressing the class. There’s a few murmurs from some students giving a half hearted hello. "I was debating whether or not to make a midterm review for this section of the course. Considering your test scores from February..." 

My phone vibrates with a 1800 number I know all too well. Dammit. I've been waiting a whole week for them to call me back about this billing mistake. I can’t believe they’re calling right now, but I have to settle this billing issue. I sigh, and claw my way out of the row of backpacks and purses, answering the phone as quietly as possible.

“Hello, this is Luigi.” I spit it out like I've said it a thousand times, flinging open the back door to the main hallway.

“Hi, Luigi, this is Tiffany calling from Blue Cross Blue Shield. I’m returning your call about a claim you want to appeal.”

Appeal? Appeal. Because nothing says "customer service" like making me clean up a mess they made and then gaslighting me about it.

I’m whisper-shouting now, rehashing for the millionth time how I never got the bill they insist they mailed to an address I haven’t lived at since MySpace peaked. Tiffany’s hitting me with the most insincere “mm-hmm”s—" i've ever heard.

“Why did you send the orthopedic bill to my parents’ house? I don’t live there,” I say, trying to keep the vein in my temple from exploding.

“Mr. Mangione, can you confirm your address for me, please?”

Confirm my address? I swear to God, these people couldn’t find their own ass with both hands and a Garmin. “Which address do you have on file for me? Because you’re sending this bill to Maryland, and I live in Pennsylvania.”

Tiffany pauses like she’s consulting the Oracle of Delphi. “Mr. Mangione, I’ll need you to confirm your mailing address in order to continue discussing your account.”

Breathe, Luigi. Breathe. “Fine. 212 Fairway Lane, Baltimore, Maryland, 20906.”

There’s the familiar clackity-clack of her keyboard, a sound I’ve come to associate with malicious incompetence. “Okay, Mr. Mangione, can I put you on hold?”

“Hold? You guys are killing me. I’m a full-time student; you called me in the middle of a lecture.”

“I’ll need to review your account information in order to transfer the case to the billing department.”

Hold on. “You’re not the billing department?”

There’s a pause so thick you could spread it on toast. “This is the claims department.”

I could scream. I peek through the window of the lecture hall door. The TA’s handing out the review sheet, and I’m out here playing phone tag with someone who doesn’t even have the power to solve this issue. “Alright, Tiffany, can you just give me the billing department’s direct line? So I can call when i'm not in class.”

She rattles off a number. I punch it into my phone notes like I’m defusing a bomb. I thank her—halfheartedly, because I was raised right- and hang up.

I'm back in my seat, having missed the professor going over test expectations. I unlock my phone and look at the number Tiffany gave me. Wait. I look at my recent call log.

No way. It’s the exact same number I’ve been calling for weeks. The member services line. An automated phone directory service that will "connect you to the best department", but only sends you in circles for hours just to disconnect you when you’re waiting to speak with a supervisor.

They’ve already threatened to send the bill to collections—a bill I’ve never even seen. They told me the procedure was 100% covered. Now I’m supposed to fork over cash I don’t have for something they said I didn’t owe in the first place.

Back at my dorm, I'm eating Panda Express alone like a fucking schmuck. The noodles taste like cardboard. I’d kill for my Ma's chicken parm. I gotta call her.

I finish up, and grab the take out bag to throw away the container. 

Oh, thats right. There’s the fortune cookie. I almost chuck it in the trash, but ... maybe Lu deserves a little treat today.

I crack open the cookie, shoving one half in my mouth, and unfurl the little piece of paper.

Be the change you want to see in the world.

I immediately roll my eyes. The change I want to see is insurance companies prioritizing patients' well being over shareholder profit. If I could do anything about that, I would. Trust me, I would.

I tape the fortune to the inside of my laptop, right next to the sticker of Breloom my sister gave me, and fling myself onto my bed. 

Be the change. Maybe I could.

[vodika-vibes]

Hello there! I love your writing sm💕💕

If you feel like, can I have a reader X Cody where the reader is the padawan of Obi wan? Something I can read while at work but it can be 18+ if that’s what your muse comes up with

💕💕💕

Trapped

Summary: You and Cody are trapped in a cave after an explosion, and you take the moment to spend time with the love of your life.

Pairing: Commander Cody x Padawan!Reader

Word Count: 799

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Sorry that it's so short, but I hope you like it!

“This is dumb,” you announce as you kick at the stone that’s keeping you sealed in this small cavern. “Why don’t I just-”

“Because you already tried that, Commander, and it nearly killed us.” Cody interrupted from where he’s sitting on a rock, his helmet sitting on the ground at his feet, “Relax. The General and the others will find us, as soon as the fighting is done.”

You huff and sit on the rock next to Cody, leaning your weight against him, “I know, I know. I just don’t like it when Master is fighting without me to watch his back.”

“The rest of the 212 is there, they won’t let anything happen to him.” Cody replies as he drapes his arm over your shoulder, “Besides, it’s not so bad being locked in here with me, is it?” There’s a hint of teasing in his voice and you nudge him gently.

“I suppose it could be worse.” You allow with a sigh. 

Cody laughs, and his fingers find the length of your padawan braid, which he slowly runs through his fingers. It’s something of a habit for him, whenever the two of you are alone, he’ll find your braid and run his fingers over the beads indicating your achievements. 

“So, do you get a bead for fighting in a war?” Cody asks after a long silence.

“Steel.” You reply absently, “It’ll be my second one. Assuming I survive the war.”

“You will.”

“Yeah? You think so?”

“If you think death is going to get you out of this relationship-”

You laugh, your head tilting back to thump lightly against his shoulder, “That would be something to see, wouldn’t it? You in a relationship with a force ghost.”

Cody sniffs, “Needs must and all.” He trails his fingers up to the base of your braid, where the first steel bead is located, “I had wondered about this one,” He admits, “It stands out compared to the others.”

“Mm. Master and I were sent to negotiate a peace treaty for a planet locked in civil war…it ended poorly.” You explain easily, “There was an explosion and we got separated, and ended up having to fight in the war.”

“What happened?”

You release a humorless laugh, “People died. People lived. More people died. I developed an allergy to red meat, and got struck by lightning. Master nearly lost his leg to a landmine. It was a whole thing.”

“...sounds miserable.”

“Isn’t that just what war is?” You counter lightly, “At least this time I haven’t been struck by lighting. That sucked, Cody. Like really bad. Still have the scar, Master Che couldn’t do anything about it.”

Cody dropped your braid and his fingers drifted to your left arm, where the scar lies hidden under your robes, “I’m guessing you were struck here.”

“Mm, I was lucky that Master was right there or I wouldn’t have survived. The electricity entered my left arm, crossed my chest, and exited out the right. Stopped my heart.”

“Well, I’m glad that you didn’t die. My life is better with you in it.” Cody says lightly.

“Yes, I know.” You smile up at him, “Shame that this whole thing is forbidden.”

“I’m fairly certain that the General knows.” Cody says dryly, “On account of the very firm talking to he gave me about respecting your boundaries and not pressuring you into anything you’re not ready for.”

At that you burst out laughing. “Oh, I’m sure he knows. But Master’s been married since he was 20, so he’s not about to lecture me about anything.”

Cody’s head snaps to the side, “General Kenobi’s married!?”

You grin, “He married Master Vos years ago.”

Cody’s jaw dropped, “He married Quinlan Vos? Why?”

You laugh, “I assume it’s because he loves him.” You sit up and press a quick kiss to Cody’s cheek, and you laugh when he turns to catch your lips in a deep kiss.

“So that means that we can get married, right?” Cody asks.

“Mm, someday. After the war.” You reply lightly, and your fingers brush against his cheek and you lean in to kiss him deeply, passionately.

Cody blinks at you, visibly having to reset his brain, “Right. Right, so Dooku and Grievous. And then a wedding.”

You laugh, “It’s a date.” And then you tilt your head to the side, as if listening to something only you can hear, “Master and the others are here.”

“Great, this cave kind of sucks.” Cody catches your hand as you get to your feet, “Love you, cyare.”

Your smile softens, and you lean in to kiss the tip of his nose, “Love you more.”

“Not possible,” Cody finishes with an easy smile, before he gets to his feet as well.

Time to go back to the war.

[les-belles-mecaniques]

Ferrari 166 MM – 212 Export UOVO by Fontana – 1950

[dreamcars-fan]

One-off Ferrari 166 MM/212 Export "Uovo" [1024x683]

[revasserium]

*runs in* ISAWYOURAUPOSTNAJSJSJSJJS Omg hiii

I really like your blog! It's like yummy food for my tired brain, so I got really excited to see you're making aus!

Can I ask for roommate au with Jamil? I'm down bad for him;;;

for my 31 days of au challenge @bakedgrape

a story in reverse

jamil; 3,571 words; fluff and slightly suggestive themes though it's never actually nsfw; college roommates!au + implied fwb...; you can read the story top the bottom or bottom to top ;)

day 273.

on the last day of term, you say goodbye for the very first time — and it stings like an unsuspecting papercut found by a thoughtless dollop of hand sanitizer, sharp and bitter with the pang of betrayal.

“ah… i guess this is it, huh?” jamil’s voice is lighter than it usually is, and just as forced.

“you say that like we’re not coming back next year…” you say, though there’s a twist in your stomach that makes your throat seize at the thought, even if it is just a thought.

“s-sorry! i just meant —“ he clears his throat and tries again, “i meant that i’ll see you soon, hm?”

for a second, you don’t know what to say — you can feel a torrent of unsaid words pushing up against the back of your throat like an insistent tide, crashing against the shore of your tongue. but then, jamil is reaching out to tip your chin back, brushing his lips to yours.

“soon. i promise,” he whispers, his eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them, gray and bright as the breaking dawn.

“yeah — i’ll see you soon, jamil.”

you pull your lips into a smile and watch as he jogs towards the curb, kalim already waiting there for him with their family car (rich boys, ugh), a dark-suited man in shades dipping his head in your general direction before slipping into the driver’s seat. you wave as jamil and kalim both turn towards you, raising their hands.

“see you next year!” jamil calls even as you nod.

“yeah, see you!”

and then they’re pulling away from the curb, leaving you standing there amidst your three rather large, well-scuffed suitcases. you let out a long sigh, plopping down on the largest one, the shell painted red and gold, though the colors barely peak out now from beneath the countless travel stickers to places that you’ve never been to (but jamil had promised he’d take you to all of them, didn’t he?)

well. there’s always next year.

day 212.

“are you gonna dorm again next year?”

“hm? i’m not sure… kalim says that we should just get a place together, so that’s what i might do.”

“oh.”

you pause over your half-eaten tub of haagen-daz, licking your lips of the mint-chocolate flavor. jamil glances over, reaching out to dig his spoon into the melting icecream.

“don’t worry though, wherever you’re staying, i’m sure we’ll be able to find a place nearby,” jamil says, flashing you a smile and a wink even as you duck, your cheeks flooding with color.

“that’s not what i was thinking about!”

“no? hm… i could’ve sworn that’s what you were looking so upset over but… well, if i’m wrong…” you can hear the mock-seriousness in jamil’s voice as he shrugs and heaves a melodramatic sigh.

“you’re the worst…” but you can’t keep from grinning as he cocks a challenging eyebrow in your direction before pouncing on you, pinning you beneath him on the sofa, the springs squeaking beneath you as the nearly drop the nearly empty pint of icecream.

“j-jamil! the ac’s still out —“

“mm… but isn’t that why we got icecream?”

his lips chase fire over the plains of your skin and despite everything, you find yourself shivering.

“y-yeah but —“

but your words die on your lips as he sinks his teeth into the juncture of your shoulder and neck, tearing a gasp from your throat as your head tips back.

day 196.

he’s always running high after his dance competitions, and this time it’s not different. so when he comes home, his eyes limned in glitter and khol, you’re not surprised to feel yourself being hauled out of your chair and into his lap, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as you purse your lips, card your fingers through his hair and hold his face steady with a teasing grin.

“i’m guessing that you guys won?”

“course we did,” he says, his breath still coming in short enough pants, his irises blown nearly black as he leans up to nip at your jawline, “we swept.”

“mm — i mean, you guys are pretty damn good.”

“how would you know? you never come to our competitions, even when i ask.”

you pull back with a dainty smack of your lips, pressing a finger to his frown.

“you guys could try to have competitions that aren’t either overseas or during exam weeks — then i might actually be able to go.”

jamil rolls his eyes, readjusting your in his lap even as he lets his head fall back against the sofa cushions.

“stupid exams…”

“just because some people are geniuses doesn’t mean we all are —“

your breath hitches as he narrows his eyes, a quicksilver glint flashing behind them as he hoists you up into a bridal carry and makes a beeline for the bedroom door.

“but since some other people finished their most stressful exam today… don’t you think they deserve to be… rewarded?”

a delicious shiver races down the length of your spine as you allow yourself to be plopped down on your too-narrow bed. jamil grins like the devil as he tugs off his sweat shirt and you can’t help the way your stomach clenches at the sight of him — so lithe and muscular, his skin smooth and perfectly sun-kissed. you’d never get tired of looking at his body, not in a million years, you think.

“i… i suppose one night off wouldn’t hurt…”

“mm, that’s what i like to hear.”

day 120.

“dance practice again tonight?”

“yeah. every monday, wednesday, and thursday —“

“— and sometimes fridays and sundays —“ you grin as you watch him shove a towel into his sports bag.

“here,” you say, holding out his water bottle, “i — uhm — you said you wanted to try liquid iv’s the other day so i put a packet in for you — i don’t know if you’d like the flavor but…”

jamil blinks as he pauses over his half-tied shoes.

“thanks.” he reaches out to take the bottle from you, giving it an experimental shake, “i — uh — i’m sure it’ll taste just fine. that was… really thoughtful of you.”

you hate the heat creeping up your cheeks as you turn back to your studies.

“it’s nothing. they had them at the farmer’s market i passed by this morning so…”

“uhm… will you be… up… when i get back?”

your head snaps up as you turn to look at him, eyes wide. fire courses through you, followed quickly by the sobering cool of uncertainty but still. you gulp and lick your suddenly very chapped lips.

“i — i don’t know… may… maybe?” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, casting your eyes back at your half-written notes, your mind already spinning over the calculations of how long it’d take for you to finish them properly.

memories from the past few weeks flood through your mind and you can’t help the twisting coil of tension thrumming at the base of your belly.

“well… i’ll text you later when i’m on my way back then,” jamil says, double-knotting his sneakers and flashing a grin your way. he gives you a two-fingered salute before he’s off and out the door, leaving you very nearly squirming in your seat at the mere thought of ‘later’.

day 101.

the third time it happens, neither of you can blame the alcohol. there was no party this time, no crush of ill-dressed bodies, no too-loud music and too-cheap beer. this time, there was just you and him and a shared bowl of under-salted popcorn, the lights off, a rerun of some movie both of you have watched at some indefinite point in time.

you don’t quite remember who made the first move — maybe it was you, when you’d coiled your legs under you, pressing your knee to the outside of his thigh and leaving it there. maybe it was him, when he’d rested his arm along the back of the sofa and let his fingers tangle absently in your hair.

maybe it was the moment of breath between one scene and the next, when the screen had gone miraculously dark and left nothing but the imprint of light behind both your eyes and before either of you could blink it away, your lips had found each other.

there’s nothing to blame this time but yourselves and each other, no questions to ask but the ones you’d already answered — right here, right now, because it feels good, because it feels right.

you fall asleep tangled in each other’s limbs, half beneath the silken covers of jamil’s brand new sheets.

and when you both wake up this time, it’s to the warmth of each other’s arms, the steady of one another’s breaths. jamil doesn’t pull away and you don’t try to think of something casual to say. instead, you both just look at each other and jamil grins.

“so… breakfast?”

you laugh, letting your head thump back onto his uber-plush pillows.

“yeah. that sounds fantastic.”

day 75.

the second time it happens, you blame the alcohol. you blame the crush of ill-dressed bodies, the too-loud music and the too-cheap beer. who’s idea was it to host a house party in your dorm room of all places anyway? and why is jamil’s entire dance crew suddenly here? hooting and hollering and grinning knowingly in your direction, a few of them even tossing you obvious winks.

as if they knew.

do they know?

you curl into yourself, press your body against the cool of the wall and toss back your drink, grimacing at the taste. whatever jamil had put in the punch bowl originally, there’s no question that it’s since been spiked with maybe a dozen different alcohols. and the mixture is fowl as it burns through your chest into your stomach.

the room spins, and eventually, you find yourself being pressed up against the back of your bedroom door, the party still booming along outside.

“f-fuck —” you fist your fingers in jamil’s long hair and tug; he lets out a hiss as his head jerks back, but even in your alcohol-induced haze, you can see the desire burning bright within him.

“sorry — did i —?”

“no — just f-feels good —” you bury your face in his shoulder, your body going soft and languid in his arms even as he slots a leg between your thighs to keep you still against the too-thin door. your hips ruck down against him and he lets out a thick groan at the way you shake against him.

“yeah? g-good… i like that —” he tugs you back with him and the pair of you topple onto your bed, all desperate fingers and dirty hands, sloppy lips, taking what you can, each from the other as if your bodies were endless things. and like this, with his hand pinning your wrists above your head, his gasping breaths bursting by your ear, you think they just might be.

the next morning, you wake up to an empty bed and cold pancakes on the kitchen counter.

day 47.

“why don’t you just talk to her about it?” kalim asks.

jamil frowns, running through his cooldown stretches, his eyes focused on his own form in the mirror even as kalim glances over at him.

“because — what’s there to talk about? i mean — it was just… one of those things.”

kalim shrugs, turning back to the mirror as well.

“if you say so but… it seems like you wanna talk to her about it.”

“it’s fine.”

“till it happens again.”

“it’s not gonna happen again.”

kalim slates him a look; jamil scowls even harder.

“if it does —” kalim’s voice is light as they both pack up their stuff and click off the lights to the dance studio.

“i said its not gonna happen again,” jamil snipes, readjusting his bag on his shoulder and digging out his phone. your message thread is pulled up and he’s halfway through the sentence — on my way back — before he catches himself and shoves his phone back into his pocket.

kalim grins, looking a bit too smug as jamil clears his throat and tries to play it off as if nothing’s happened.

“if it does… you should make her breakfast the morning after.”

“w-why the hell would i do that?”

kalim laughs, “because! then she’ll know that you might want to spend more time with her — time when you’re not —”

“okay! okay — ugh… but like… what do i even make her for breakfast anyway?”

kalim looks much, much too pleased with himself as he peers into jamil’s face.

“how about pancakes?”

day 31.

the first time it happens, it’s barely more than a month into your co-habitation. it’d been a not-quite-accident kind of accident. it’d been one of those rare nights when jamil doesn’t have dance practice and you’d finished all your work early.

“wanna play a game?”

jamil’s smile had been viper-sweet and just as dangerous.

“only if drinks are involved.”

you roll your eyes but agree.

“never have i ever.”

jamil shrugs, “sure. we drink if we’ve done the thing, right?”

you nod, pouring a row of malibu shots. jamil grimaces.

“why malibu?”

“cause — it’s sweet and it’s cheap and it’s the only thing we had in the cabinet.”

“fair. alright — you go first.” jamil pulls a glass towards him, his eyes fixed on you. he watches as you swirl your own shot glass with a contemplative look on your face, and he wonders if you know how terribly tantalizing you look.

so… he might’ve caught himself staring a few times right after you’d gotten out of the shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel, your hair tracing water down the bare skin of your shoulders and back. and he might’ve lingered over your uncapped bottle of perfume, swallowing hard as he catches a whiff of the vaguely floral fragrance, the base warm and woody and dizzying.

“never have i ever… gone to three different countries in one month.” your smile, when he finally fixes his gaze on you again, is nothing short of wicked.

he narrows his eyes as he takes his shot, “that’s not fair — you know i have to travel for my dance crew’s international competitions.”

you roll your eyes, “yeah, and i’ve never been to half the places you’ve been so…”

“i’ll take you with me one day,” he says, the words out of his mouth before he can stop himself. you cock your head as you stare at him, and then you raise your already refilled shot glass.

“i’ll hold you to it then.”

jamil refills his own glass and downs the shot.

“never have i ever… been walked in on after taking a shower.”

“hey! and who’s fault is that?”

jamil smirks, shrugging nonchalantly as you take your shot, quick and vindictive.

“fine — never have i ever walked in on someone after they’d just taken a shower.”

jamil takes his own shot in stride, swallowing down the burn with a wide, satisfied smile.

so it goes on like this, the never-have-i-evers getting more and more ludicrous till you’re both drunk and laughing and more than a little hot beneath the collar.

“never… have i ever… hm…” you muses, your head lolling back as you cast your eyes up at the ceiling, as if an interesting thing not to have done might be written there.

“what’s something… super cliché?” jamil wonders aloud, letting his gaze flicker up as well.

you pause for a moment before dissolving into a pile of red-faced giggles.

“oh! never have i ever hooked up with a roommate! there — that’s a good one.” you smile wide and sure, looking proud of your own accomplishment in thinking up this thing that you’re certain he’s done.

jamil licks his lips and swallows, his eyes meeting your as he lets out a breath.

“i haven’t either.”

the air between the pair of you thickens as your eyes flash down towards your empty shot glass.

“oh.”

“but i guess it is kinda cliché, huh…” he says, setting down his glass and dragging a thumb along his bottom lip before popping into his mouth.

he hears rather than sees the way your breath hitches and he can’t help the pleased purr rumbling through him at the thought of being able to do this to you.

“y-yeah… i guess it is…” you lick your own lips, “makes you feel a little left out, doesn’t it?”

jamil hums in response, and it isn’t till you look up again that you realize he’s leaned over the graveyard of now-emptied shot glasses, his lips hovering inches from your own.

“but how about we change that, hm?”

day 15.

it only takes two weeks for one of you to walk in on the other in the bathroom, and all things considered, it was kind of a miracle that it hadn’t happened sooner. the bathroom door doesn’t really lock and jamil had been too preoccupied with scrolling through the music for their next showcase to see the tell-tale strip of light beneath the door that usually indicates that the bathroom is currently occupied.

when he pushes through, it’s to find you stepping out of the shower, the steam still rising from your skin in thick, white wisps, your hand reaching for the towel on the rack.

“wh —”

jamil stares, drop-jawed and dumbstruck as his eyes rake over your very, very naked body, the music still thumping from his large headphones as he blinks.

you scream.

he slams the door shut.

15 minutes later when you leave the bathroom, your cheeks flushed a deep shade of maroon, your hair still damp, but your body now covered in a long t-shirt and sweats, neither of you says a thing.

day 3.

three days in and you have to admit that it’s kind of nice, having a super rich trust fund boy as your roommate. if nothing else, all the furniture he’s brought along is gorgeous — from the thick persian rugs to the tasteful suede sofa, you very quickly find yourself living in a dorm that looks like it might have belonged in the pages of a crate & barrel magazine spread.

“but apparently, his cousin’s family is even better off —” one of your friends had informed you after you’d looked up jamil’s family online, very quickly finding the wiki page that links him to the al-asim family.

“oh yeah? what do they even do?” you squint at the wikipedia page detailing the al-asim family legacy.

“i think something to do with… water filtration?” your friend peers over your shoulder as you scroll through the page before clicking back to google. she tugs your phone out of your hand and quickly types something into the search bar before making a gagging noise and turning the phone results back towards you.

“holy shit.”

“holy is right,” your friend had said.

“with a net worth like that… what the hell are they doing in school?” you ask, your eyes wide as you look back up.

your friend shrugs, a wicked grin twisting her lips as she leans over the library table and whispers in your ear —

“but y’know if you can bag jamil you’ll be set for life!”

you flush and shove her away, “shut up! we’re just roommates!”

your friend tuts, “plenty of people end up hooking up with their roommates — it’s a literal cliché at this point.”

you roll your eyes, “well not for us, it won’t — and e-even if we do… there’s a long way between ‘hooking up’ and bagging someone for life.”

your friend giggles, batting her lashes floridly at you, “never say never!”

day 1.

“o-oh! hi — sorry, you must be…”

jamil frowns, turning around at the sound of your voice.

“jamil viper…” he says as his eyes land on you for the very first time, taking in the three large suitcases gathered around your legs, and the light blush dusting your cheeks from what he assumes is the exertion of having wrangled them down the too-long hallway.

“yes — right…” you purse your lips, tucking a strand of hair behind your ears.

“and you must be my new roommate, right?” jamil says, recovering from his momentary shock to offer you his hand.

pretty, is his first thought, smells like flowers, is his second.

you beam up at him, nodding.

“it’s lovely to finally meet you!”

[diabolus1exmachina]

Ferrari 212 Inter Vignale Cabriolet 

The Ferrari 212 Inter, has been considered the first successful model within the Ferrari produced in series, since it also did so with a wide variety of bodies: berlinetta, cabriolet and coupé. The 212 Inter incorporated bodies -it did not have a monocoque chassis-, from designers such as Ghia, Pininfarina, Stabilimenti Farina, Touring, Vignale and cabriolet versions from the British Abbott. It also marked the beginning of a long alliance between Ferrari and Pininfarina. On the outside, a long hood to shelter its V12, two large round headlights, its attractive chrome grille and an air intake next to the front fender stood out for any of its bodies. Its engine was the typical V12 of the house, the work of Gioacchino Colombo. With an inclination between benches of 60º and a diameter per stroke of 68×59 mm. It had a total displacement of 2.6 liters, had 24 valves in total and was placed in the longitudinal front position, just behind the front axle. The feeding was through a Weber 36 DCF double body carburettor, with the option of a kit of three carburettors for the most burned. The final power was between 130 and 150 CV at 6,500 revs for the configuration of a single carburetor, reaching 165 CV with the triple, being able to speed up the tachometer up to 6,900 revs in both cases.

Power was transmitted to the rear axle through a fully synchronized five-speed manual gearbox. As for its brake equipment, it mounted ancient and unsportsmanlike drum brakes on both axles inside some beautiful 15-inch-diameter spoked wheels and 175-millimeter-wide tires. The 212 Inter would be replaced just a year after its birth with fewer than 90 units built for the 250.

[retromania4ever]

Ferrari 212 MM 🇮🇹 #classiccars

[howzitsa]

Netis AC1200 Wireless Dual Band Gigabit Router The netis router N2 equipped with the next generation 802.11AC Wi-Fi technology, will offer you simultaneous dual band connection with 867Mbps wireless speeds over the crystal clear 5GHz band and 300Mbps over the 2.4GHz band, ideal for faster downloading, online gaming, Internet calling and HD video streaming. Also, it provides with full gigabit ports which are 10 times faster than conventional Fast Ethernet connections. Features: Standards IEEE 802.11b/g/n 2.4GHz IEEE 802.11a/n/ac 5GHz Signal Rate Up to 300Mbps2.4GHz UP to 867Mbps 5GHz Frequency Range 2.4-2.4835GHz;5.180-5.825GHZ Transmit Power 20dBm(MAX) Data Transfer Rate 802.11ac: 80MHZ(433Mbps, 867Mbps) 802.11n: 40MHz(300Mbps, 270Mbps, 240Mbps, 180Mbps, 120Mbps, 90Mbps, 60Mbps, 30Mbps) 20MHz (144Mbps, 130Mbps, 115Mbps, 86Mbps, 57Mbps, 43Mbps, 28Mbps, 14Mbps) (Auto-Sense) 802.11g: (54Mbps, 48Mbps, 36Mbps, 24Mbps, 18Mbps, 12Mbps, 11Mbps, 9Mbps, 6Mbps) 802.11b: (11Mbps,9Mbps, 6Mbps, 5.5Mbps, 2Mbps, 1Mbps) Wireless Modes AP, Repeater, Client, Multi-SSID Wireless Security WEP/WPA-PSK/WPA2-PSK Encryption Wireless MAC Filtering Hardware Standards IEEE 802.3 10Base-T, IEEE 802.3u 100Base-TX, IEEE 802.3ab 1000Base-T Interface 1*10/100/1000Mbps Auto MDI/MDIX RJ45 WAN port 4*10/100/1000Mbps Auto MDI/MDIX RJ45 LAN port LED Indicators SYS, WPS, 5G, 2.4G, WAN, LAN1~LAN4 Buttons Default, WPS Antenna 4* external fixed 5dBi antenna Power Supply DC 12V/1.0A(Output) Dimensions (L x W x H ) 212 x 145 x 40 mm Software WAN Type DHCP, Static IP, PPPoE, L2TP, PPTP, WISP Others Bandwidth Control, Access Control, IPTV, Virtual Server, DMZ, VPN Pass-through, Dynamic DNS, Static Routing, Backup & Restore Certification FCC, CE, EAC Environment Operating Temperature: 0℃~40℃ Storage Temperature: -40℃~70℃ Operating Humidity: 10%~90% non-condensing Storage Humidity: 5%~90% non-condensing Package 1* N2 1* 12V/1.0A Power Adapter 1* Ethernet Cable 1* Quick Installation Guide (Multilingual)

[serrurierparis]

Installer une protection efficace pour sa serrure de porte.

Comment protéger sa serrure des cambrioleurs ?

Le cylindre qui dépasse de la porte : cela plaît aux casseurs !

Des protections rassurantes pour vos entrées car si vous venez de faire un changement de serrure suite à un cambriolage ou tout simplement pour remplacer votre vieille serrure dans votre maison ou local professionnel mais avez vous pensé à protéger celle-ci et surtout le cylindre? En effet rien ne sert d'avoir une serrure haut de gamme si le cylindre de votre serrure dépasse, c'est tout simplement une invitation aux cambrioleurs !! Pourquoi ? Voici quelques explications :

Pourquoi les cambrioleurs les apprécient ces cylindres qui dépassent ou qui ne sont pas protégés ? Les cambriolages sont commis par des voyous qui s’attaquent la plupart du temps à des portes faibles ou affaiblies. Les barillets qui dépassent des portes sont des cibles faciles pour les cambrioleurs car le dépassement rend la porte vulnérable. Donc que faire? Les solutions existent, ne laissez pas votre cylindre dépassant à la merci des cambrioleurs. Il est possible et conseillé d'installer une rosace blindée ou une poignée de porte blindée.

D'autres solutions existent mais chez nous, nous vous proposons l'option de faire installer une poignée blindée, cela offrira un aspect esthétique indéniable et une protection sans failles de votre barillet,cylindre de serrure.

Votre poignée blindée offre les garanties suivantes :

Entraxes de fixation variable

Ensemble de sécurité blindé à modèle déposé.

3 Modèles : Palière, double-béquille, borgne.

Finitions Argent, Champagne, dorée et laiton poli PVD

Fixation par douilles en acier trempé.

Pour porte épaisseur 54 mm maximum.

5 entraxes de fixation au choix : 

230 mm : Entraxe 2 trous

212 mm : Entraxe 2 trous

195 mm : Entraxe 2 trous

175 mm : Entraxe 4 trous

170 mm : Entraxe 3 trous

Accessoire :

Contre-plaque de rattrapage d’épaisseur de cornières anti-pince.

Pastille anti-percement pour cylindre européen à entrée de clé ronde.

Ainsi les cambrioleurs ne seront pas tentés de s'attaquer à votre porte et choisirons soyez en certain une autre porte  car ceux-ci n'ont pas de temps à perdre avec une serrure bien protégée et qui résiste à un tentative d'effraction.

En faisant cela, vous augmenterez le temps que mettra l’effraction à se produire et ferez ainsi abandonner le cambrioleur.

N'oubliez pas qu'il faut moins de deux minutes à un cambrioleur averti pour ouvrir une serrure de mauvaise qualité et cinq minutes pour mettre la main sur vos objets de valeur ainsi que sur des choses qui ont une grande valeur sentimentale pour vous. Il vaut mieux donc prévenir que devoir regretter amèrement le fait de ne pas avoir fait installer sur votre porte, serrure un minimum de sécurité.

Notre équipe est disponible toute la semaine et 24/24 pour procéder à la protection de votre serrure et bien sur résoudre aussi tout autres problèmes comme par exemple ouvrir votre porte claquée ou fermée à clefs.

 tel 06.52.66.50.12

[electrickettless]

Glass kettle 1700ML cordless electric water kettle with fashion design

Measurement(mm)ApprovalGift Box: 212*180*245 Master Carton:440*380*510 8pcs/CTN 2688pcs/20GP 5616pcs/40GP 6600pcs/40HQ

[vmantras]

Lava Agni 3 5G

General Model Agni 3 5G Sim Type Dual Sim, GSM+GSM Dual Sim Yes Sim Size Nano+Nano SIM Device Type Smartphone Release Date October 04, 2024 In The Box Handset, Type-C USB cable, SIM Ejector Pin, Protection Cover, Power Adapter Design Dimensions 75.5 x 163.7 x 8.8 mm Weight 212 g Bezel less Yes Colors Heather Glass, Pristine Glass Display Type Color AMOLED Screen (1B…

[pmsticaret]

İŞ MAKİNALARI İÇİN HIZLI VE GÜVENİLİR YEDEK PARÇA ÇÖZÜMLERİ

Ankara Ostim’de bulunan şirketimiz, Carraro, ZF, DANA ve diğer iş makinaları yedek parçalarının satışında öncüdür. Türkiye ve dünyada birçok müşteri tarafından tercih edilen firmamız, orijinal ve OEM parçaları hızlı ve sorunsuz bir şekilde temin etmektedir. Carraro ve ZF OEM yedek parçaları konusunda uzman olan ekibimiz, diferansiyel ve şanzıman parçalarında geniş bilgi birikimine sahiptir. Carraro OEM parçalar, orijinal parçalarla aynı kalitede olup, %50 daha uygun fiyatlıdır. Yedek parça ihtiyaçlarınız için web sitemizden veya sosyal medya hesaplarımızdan bize ulaşabilirsiniz.

Hidromek O-Ring

F2851005 , N10/2002335 , PMSC079-630 , L229032108 , PMSC079-602 , PMSC085-406 , N102005836 , N102665701 , PMSC120-136 , F0182410 , PMSC079-048 , PMSC119-930 , H349020038 , 80*2.62 /70 SHORE/NBR , AR65507 , 11114856 , 22,22*2,62 , PMSC079-495 , PMSC079-624 , N10/2010435 , H23/9025041 , H385003400 , N10/2009030 , 7X4741 , N102234101 , N102010435 , 79*2 /NBR 70 , PMSC077-855 , PMSC079-112 , PMSC079-992 , F0182632 , N102000918 , H205003400 , N102225100 , 23,52*1,78 /NBR 90 , PMSC079-642 , PMSC120-678 , PMSC080-042 , 1209762 , 0636 304 484 , H34/9025139 , N10/2001924 , H25/9025063 , M118001810 , 87*2 /70 SHORE/NBR , N10/2001526 , 51M7039 , PMSC120-686 , L22/9032131 , F0182415 , S1830400 , N102003935 , PMSC119-523 , PMSC141-667 , N10/2006440 , PMSC120-226 , PMSC079-974 , N102001122 , P501450 , N10/2665701 , PMSC119-968 , 107,20*5,34 , N3150-08000 , N10/2027403 , N102005225 , N10/2001120 , 90*2 /70 SHORE/NBR , N102008535 , PMSC120-778 , PMSC079-103 , N102002335 , PMSC145-436 , PMSC076-219 , PMSC079-557 , 29.2*1.5 , 88,57*2,62 MM , N102005636 , PMSC079-623 , N102009020 , PMSC079-857 , 274*3 /70SHORE , PMSC079-592 , N102032507 , F0182351 , F0182162 , PMSC119-847 , 1045149805 , PMSC066-500 , N102001528 , F03-40015 , PMSC079-460 , N10/2018003 , N102234100 , PMSC120-843 , PMSC075-305 , N10/2010126 , N10/2003203 , H259070156 , 11114743 , F28/51005 , F01/82410 , H33/9038014 , F01/82422 , N10/2005635 , N102005435 , PMSC120-091 , N102005634 , N102001817 , H34/5002100 , S0643433 , PMSC079-133 , N10/2500304 , N102500708 , N10/2701801 , PMSC079-237 , F0340038 , N10/2002024 , H259025065 , N102006440 , 21,80*2,40 , N10/2002935 , L22/9032110 , 8.92*1.83 /90 SHORE/NBR , L22/9032170 , N102027403 , N10/2007340 , N102001323 , N102006935 , H209021002 , N102002436 , PMSC119-952 , N10/2017957 , 73*4 /NBR 70 , F03/40038 , F01/82340 , L22/9038019 , N102011003 , PMSC120-664 , L22/9030083 , N10/2009335 , PMSC119-826 , H23/9032189 , N10/2012635 , F01/82158 , N10/2002336 , N102011903 , 4F-7952 , 23.7*3.5 /70 SHORE/NBR , N102002020 , R0100032 , L22/9038012 , N102004035 , N10/2004226 , N102610001 , 204,2*5,7 , PMSC120-852 , N102003003 , H70717300 , H34/9035016 , N10/2005634 , 132.94*3.53 /70 SHORE/NBR , N102008740 , F0340060 , 20300100 , PMSC120-209 , N10/2002436 , S0644229 , PMSC079-409 , PMSC120-594 , N102032307 , PMSC079-618 , S18/31186 , 16.36*2.21 /90 SHORE/NBR , N102000818 , N10/2225570 , 23.6*2.9 /70 SHORE/NBR , N102004226 , PMSC120-407 , PMSC135-645 , N102001803 , PMSC075-312 , 19.30*2.40 /90 SHORE/NBR , PMSC079-565 , PMSC079-612 , N10/2010031 , F01/82430 , 6042518200 , H25/9038027 , OR5006500 , PMSC079-036 , PMSC080-058 , PMSC080-022 , F01/82252 , H20/9071002 , 21.95*1.78 , N102004935 , N102009935 , H34/5303400 , 84*3,9 /NBR , PMSC119-876 , N10/2003745 , 9,8*1,9 /90 , N10/2032307 , PMSC075-057 , L229038055 , PMSC079-092 , PMSC119-874 , N102009931 , H239025041 , F01/82166 , H20/9021049 , PMSC079-182 , PMSC080-076 , N102002336 , N102702902 , PMSC133-757 , PMSC120-194 , PMSC120-212 , 130*3 /90 SHORE/NBR , F01/82351 , N10/2005636 , N102002425 , N102024957 , 1113086 , BTT.14317 , PMSC120-426 , H259015041 , H70721800 , 63,09*3,53 /90 SHORE /NBR , H349030030 , N10/2008020 , 99*3 /70 SHORE/NBR , H70723000 , PMSC079-129 , N102001717 , R0100067 , H34/9020040 , N10/2032507 , N102001120 , N10/2001119 , 12*2 /90SHORE , H25/9025065 , PMSC120-189 , F0182158 , N10/2002929 , N102008026 , N102008620 , L22/9038048 , PMSC079-588 , PMSC079-997 , PMSC119-832 , PMSC123-304 , H349020011 , 30*3 /70 SHORE , L22/9030060 , N10/2018957 , H349020013 , H379020015 , F03/40050 , N10/2002226 , PMSC079-606 , PMSC075-272 , N102013335 , P501455 , H70723600 , H349025030 , PMSC079-604 , PMSC079-619 , S18/31146 , PMSC079-948 , 18,7*1,50 , N10/2003736 , PMSC079-008 , PMSC079-535

[gadgetzview]

Motorola Edge 50 Fusion vs. Lava Agni 3 5G: An In-Depth Comparison

With new smartphones hitting the market, tech enthusiasts and casual users alike are always on the lookout for devices that offer high performance, standout design, and value. Today, we’ll dive into two recent releases: the Motorola Edge 50 Fusion and the Lava Agni 3 5G. Released in October 2024, both models promise powerful features, from top-tier display quality to excellent processing power. Let's compare these two devices across their design, display, performance, camera capabilities, and other essential aspects.

Design and Build

Motorola Edge 50 Fusion has a sleek profile, measuring 7.8 mm thick and weighing 174.9 g. It’s available in vibrant colors like Forest Blue, Marshmallow Blue, and Hot Pink, which give it a modern appeal. It boasts IP68 water and dust resistance, making it a reliable choice for everyday use in different conditions.

Lava Agni 3 5G, on the other hand, is slightly bulkier, weighing 212 g and measuring 8.8 mm thick. It also comes in premium finishes, namely Heather Glass and Pristine Glass, which are both elegant and durable. While it offers IP64 splash resistance, it’s slightly less durable against water and dust than the Motorola.

Verdict: If portability and durability are your top priorities, the Motorola Edge 50 Fusion edges out the Lava Agni 3 5G in this category.

Display Quality

The Motorola Edge 50 Fusion features a 6.67-inch pOLED screen with a 1080 x 2400 resolution and a 144 Hz refresh rate, offering smooth scrolling and high responsiveness. The screen delivers a peak brightness of 1600 nits, ensuring vibrant visuals and great visibility even in bright sunlight.

In comparison, the Lava Agni 3 5G has a slightly larger 6.78-inch AMOLED display with 1200 x 2652 resolution and a 120 Hz refresh rate. With 1200 nits brightness, it’s also sharp and responsive, although the slightly lower refresh rate might be noticeable to avid gamers.

Verdict: Both displays are excellent, but the Motorola's higher refresh rate and peak brightness may appeal more to users seeking enhanced smoothness and visual quality.

Performance and Software

Powered by the Qualcomm Snapdragon 7s Gen 2 processor, the Motorola Edge 50 Fusion delivers a 2.4 GHz octa-core experience, ideal for multitasking and medium-to-high-level gaming. Paired with 8GB of RAM and an Adreno 710 GPU, it handles graphics-intensive apps with ease. It runs on Android 14 with Motorola's custom Hello UI.

The Lava Agni 3 5G uses the MediaTek Dimensity 7300X chipset, a 2.5 GHz octa-core processor that also supports smooth multitasking and demanding apps. It includes 8GB of RAM and a Mali-G615 MC2 GPU, delivering a bit more power for gaming. Also running Android 14 with Hello UI, the Lava Agni 3 5G is well-suited for users needing reliable performance in various settings.

Verdict: For general performance and gaming, the Lava Agni 3 5G may have a slight edge due to its processor, although both devices offer competitive experiences.

Camera Capabilities

When it comes to photography, Motorola Edge 50 Fusion sports a dual rear camera setup, featuring a 50MP wide-angle camera and a 13MP ultra-wide camera, along with 4K video recording. The 32MP front camera ensures clear selfies and sharp video calls, making this a well-rounded camera setup for versatile photography.

Lava Agni 3 5G, in contrast, steps up with a triple rear camera system comprising a 50MP primary sensor, an 8MP telephoto lens with 3x optical zoom, and an 8MP ultra-wide lens. It also supports 4K recording, while its 16MP front camera handles selfies. This setup is especially suitable for users who enjoy zoom capabilities and diverse camera functions.

Verdict: The Lava Agni 3 5G takes the lead here with its more comprehensive triple camera array and telephoto zoom capability, giving photographers more options to explore.

Battery and Charging

Both devices come equipped with 5000mAh batteries, ideal for extended usage without frequent recharges. The Motorola Edge 50 Fusion supports 68W TurboPower charging, which provides faster top-ups and includes a reverse charging option, making it useful for charging other devices on the go.

The Lava Agni 3 5G supports 66W fast charging, which is also efficient but lacks reverse charging. It’s a reliable battery setup for daily activities and prolonged usage.

Verdict: While both devices have comparable battery lives, Motorola’s reverse charging gives it an edge in versatility.

Connectivity and Other Features

The Motorola Edge 50 Fusion offers extensive 5G band support along with Wi-Fi 802.11 a/b/g/n/ac compatibility and Bluetooth v5.2. Additionally, it includes NFC and an in-display fingerprint sensor for added convenience and security.

Lava Agni 3 5G brings Wi-Fi 6e for faster wireless connectivity, Bluetooth v5.4, and GPS with NavIC support, which enhances its connectivity range in supported regions. However, it lacks NFC, which may be limiting for users who rely on contactless payments.

Verdict: While Lava Agni 3 5G’s Wi-Fi 6e is faster, Motorola's NFC support and versatile 5G connectivity may be more beneficial for everyday connectivity.

Conclusion

In the end, choosing between the Motorola Edge 50 Fusion and the Lava Agni 3 5G comes down to individual preferences and priorities:

Motorola Edge 50 Fusion: With its vibrant display, IP68 water and dust resistance, reliable Snapdragon processor, and reverse charging, this phone is well-suited for users prioritizing media consumption, aesthetics, and reliable battery features.

Lava Agni 3 5G: Its MediaTek Dimensity processor, robust triple camera setup, and Wi-Fi 6e support make it ideal for performance-oriented users who want a versatile camera experience and a bit more speed for gaming and connectivity.

Both smartphones offer impressive specs, so whether you’re leaning towards design and camera quality or performance and connectivity, these devices have something to suit your needs.