#appartments on budget

[dharmainfraprojects]

Discover Your Dream Home with Dharma Infra Projects: Luxury Flats for Sale in Bhubaneswar

Are you trying to find the ideal combination of luxury, comfort, and modern living in Bhubaneswar? You only need to look at Dharma Infra Projects. We provide an outstanding range of luxury flats for sale in Bhubaneswar that have been constructed to the biggest quality and elegance. We'll discuss in this blog why our luxurious Bhubaneswar apartments are the best option for your next home.

Why Choose Luxury Flats in Bhubaneswar?

Bhubaneswar, the capital city of Odisha, is rapidly becoming a prime location for real estate investment. With its rich cultural heritage, excellent infrastructure, and growing economic opportunities, the city offers a vibrant and dynamic lifestyle. Investing in luxury flats in Bhubaneswar ensures that you enjoy the best of what this city has to offer.

Unmatched Comfort and Elegance

Our team at Dharma Infra Projects knows that your house is a reflection of your goals and character. Our apartments in Bhubaneswar  carefully planned to provide unmatched luxury and comfort. Modern facilities, luxurious finishes, and spacious floor plans define each apartment. Every element, from luxurious baths to contemporary kitchens, is designed to improve your quality of life.

Prime Locations

A home's location is an important consideration. Our apartments in Bhubaneswar are ideally situated in desirable neighborhoods, making it easy to get to important landmarks, hospitals, schools, and entertainment venues. Moving to a community with good transportation connections guarantees convenience and saves you time.

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Our Bhubaneswar luxury apartments has  array of excellent amenities is one of their most notable characteristics. Take advantage of the  swimming pool, beautifully planted gardens, kids' play area, and allocated parking spots. Security is also a top priority in our projects; to guarantee a secure and comfortable living environment, we provide qualified management services and 24/7 surveillance.

Best Luxury Projects in Bhubaneswar

Dharma Infra Projects is proud to have been involved in some of Bhubaneswar's top luxury projects. From creative design to environmentally friendly building techniques, all aspects of our developments reflects our commitment to quality. Our goal is to design living areas that exceed your expectations.

Why Invest in Luxury Flats?

Investing in luxury flats for sale in Bhubaneswar is a wise decision for several reasons. First of all, luxury real estate typically increases in value over time, providing a strong return on investment. If you decide to lease your flat, you will have a consistent stream of revenue because these buildings draw rich tenants. Last but not least, having a luxury apartment offers an unparalleled feeling of difference and superior living.

Your Dream Home Awaits

For those seeking an investment that is profitable or a new residency, Dharma Infra Projects offers the ideal option. Our Bhubaneswar luxury apartments are carefully built to provide a balance of comfort, elegance, and convenience. You're bound to find a home that suits your preferences and lifestyle among our wide selection of flats for sale in Bhubaneswar.

Contact Us Today

Ready to  explore the finest luxury apartments in Bhubaneswar? Make an appointment for a visit with Dharma Infra Projects today to see the heights of modern society. Our team of experts is available to assist you at every stage of the procedure, ensuring an easy and fulfilling house-buying journey. Experience Dharma Infra Projects' elegance, comfort, and luxury—the place where your perfect home becomes a reality.

[birchbeer]

signed up for inorganic chem and chemical dynamics next yr and i am once again doing stuff w/o having all the prereqs but its ok 👍 i will probably figure it out (possibly) (maybe)

also super duper excited for surveying, water treatment, and wastewater treatment next yr :3 genuinely cannot wait plus im TAing intro to environmental engineering and that class is awesome soooo yipee!

[ophexis]

My brain won't stop trying to remind me of all the things that could go wrong BUT I signed the lease on an *amazing* appartment yesterday and I'm really looking forward to moving in 😭

[abrahamvanhelsings]

girl the chat bottification of everything under the sun is fucking intolerable. i just had to call my bank bc i had a couple of complex inter-related questions that i needed to communicate w/ a living breathing person with a brain and then instead i got an ai generated voice asking me questions i could only answer with yes or no which obviously did not get anywhere close to providing a solution to my problems. and only after 5 minutes of that did they put me in the queue. like what is the added benefit of this. do you honestly expect the phone voice to solve problems that the website chatbot also can't solve. jesus.

[it-related-online-course]

Best Apartments in Thrissur

Are you worried about this. Don’t worry, PlotMall helps to you to choose the best apartments in Thrissur. PlotMall is a leading online real estate portal which was established in 2007 with a sole purpose of helping the real estate industry of India and specifically Kerala. Today the real estate sector has developed as a major area of business like any other business involving management, investment, services and marketing. PlotMall is a platform for builders, agents, buyers and sellers of land and provides its users with an easy search of property in any region of Kerala.

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Plotmall helps choose the best apartments in Thrissur by offering a comprehensive listing of apartments available in the city. Users can search for apartments based on their specific requirements such as location, budget, size, amenities, and more.

Plotmall provides detailed information about each apartment, including floor plans, photos, amenities, and contact details of the property owner or builder. This allows users to compare different apartments and make an informed decision.

Additionally, Plotmall offers virtual tours or video walkthroughs of apartments, which gives users a realistic view of the property without physically visiting it. This saves time and effort for those who are unable to visit the apartments in person.

Furthermore, Plotmall provides a platform for users to read and leave reviews about the apartments they have visited or lived in. This helps potential buyers or tenants get insights from others who have had firsthand experience with the property.

Overall, Plotmall simplifies the process of finding and choosing the best apartments in Thrissur by providing a user-friendly platform with extensive information and resources.

[julietsf1]

Hurricane - Franco Colapinto x Reader

summary: When a hurricane leaves Y/N stranded at Charles’s Monaco apartment with a few of his friends, Y/N has to navigate both the storm outside and the one brewing inside. (5k words)

AN: The absolute confusion I had when I saw a hurricane warning from my government yesterday (I live in south of France); they later changed it to a regular storm warning, as it was a mistake but it did inspire me to write a lil something :) Hope you all have a lovely day cuties <3

__________________________________________

The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the wide-open balcony doors, casting a golden hue over Charles’s perfectly pristine Monaco apartment. I sat cross-legged on the plush rug, sipping wine and admiring the explosion of shopping bags Alexandra and I had managed to accumulate during our day out. Monte Carlo had definitely been kind to us, and the light buzz from the wine wasn’t hurting either.

“I swear, you have this insane ability to sniff out the best deals,” I said, holding up a silk scarf I knew I’d never wear but had bought anyway. “How do you do it?”

Alexandra, always composed, gave me a sly smile from where she lounged on the couch, a glass of wine cradled effortlessly in her hand. “It’s all about instinct. Plus, I had to keep up with you. You were like a woman possessed.”

“Possessed by a very stylish demon,” I quipped, draping the scarf over my shoulder dramatically before laughing. The kind of laughter that happens when you’re a bit tipsy and surrounded by a friend who knows all your quirks.

“I still can’t believe we’ve kept this monthly tradition alive,” Alexandra mused, swirling her wine. “Feels like just yesterday we were running around Paris pretending to understand every art piece in the Louvre.”

I smirked, raising my glass. “Fake it till you make it, right? Look at us now — two very sophisticated, responsible young women.”

Alexandra burst into laughter at that, nearly spilling her drink. “Yes, responsible. Totally why we blew our budgets in today.”

“Hey, this is what reunions are for. Besides, Charles is always dragging you to fancy dinners — we need to keep up appearances.”

“Cheers to that,” Alexandra laughed. These reunions had become a tradition ever since they both left Paris. Shopping, gossiping, and generally pretending they had their lives together for a few days before returning to reality.

“I do wish I could stay longer,” Y/N said, glancing at her watch. “But I’ve got a flight back to tonight.”

Alexandra pouted in a way that could have convinced anyone to cancel their plans. “Come on, just stay for dinner.”

“As tempting as that sounds, I really can’t,” Y/N replied, laughing. “I don’t have a private jet. Air France is not going to wait for me.”

As if on cue, the front door swung open, and there was Charles, as effortlessly polished as ever, with a smile that seemed to say, I’m trying not to stress but also, I’m probably going to stress.

“Bonsoir, ladies,” he greeted, dropping his keys on the counter. “Good day of shopping, I assume?”

“The best,” I grinned, waving a hand over the spread of bags surrounding us. “Your appartment is stunning by the way.”

He smiled, giving a mock bow. “I do what I can You should stay for a bit, a few people are coming over tonight — nothing too crazy. Just some of the guys.”

Y/N’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “The guys?”

“Yeah, nothing too big. Just Lando, George, Max, and Franco. A little pre-birthday thing before we head out later.”

I exchanged a quick glance with Alexandra, who was already giving me her classic stay for dinner look. Before I could protest, the apartment door swung open again, and in walked George, looking as composed and proper as ever. His eyes scanned the apartment critically before zeroing in on Charles.

“I still think hiring a private chef is a bit over the top,” George began, without so much as a greeting. “We could’ve managed something ourselves, you know. Is this private chef going to stick to traditional recipes? I’m just saying, none of that modern fusion nonsense. I don’t want to find some deconstructed tartare on my plate. It should be classic and-”

“Hi, George,” I cut in, giving him a pointed look.

He blinked, suddenly remembering that Alexandra and I were present. “Oh, Y/N, Alexandra. Didn’t see you there. Apologies, m’ladies.” He gave a polite nod before turning back to Charles. “Anyway, as I was saying—”

“George, we’ve got it covered,” Charles sighed, looking like he was already regretting inviting his overly particular friend.

Before George could launch into another monologue about culinary disasters, the door swung open again, and Lando breezed in with his signature chaotic energy. He didn’t just walk into a room, he practically exploded into it.

“Ladies, gentlemen, I have arrived!” Lando declared, grinning widely as if he’d just been announced at a royal ball. He scanned the room, his eyes landing on me and Alexandra. “Ah, the usual suspects. So, what’s the plan? Dinner, drinks, maybe a little dancing after?”

“That’s the idea,” Alexandra said, raising an eyebrow. “But Y/N is trying to bail for her flight.”

Lando gasped, clutching his chest in exaggerated shock. “What? Absolutely not. We’re not letting you leave before you at least see how this chef performs under George’s expert critique.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling. “You’re all ridiculous. I really do need to catch that flight.”

“You’ll miss the best part of the night!” Lando said, leaning back with a knowing grin. “But fine, if you have to go, you have to go.”

As if on cue, the door opened again, and in walked Max — no dramatic entrance, no greetings. He headed straight for the bar, poured himself a gin and tonic, and turned to the group with a small nod, holding up his glass.

“Evening,” he said, like this was all completely normal.

“Hi, Max,” I replied, grinning at his predictable, casual demeanor.

“Y/N. Alexandra,” Max greeted, raising his glass in acknowledgment before taking a long sip, completely unfazed by Lando’s lingering excitement or George’s quiet simmer of judgment.

It didn’t take long for everyone to fall into their usual rhythms. Charles, now somewhat resigned to the chaos, was behind the counter mixing drinks. George, still hovering like a concerned parent, muttered under his breath about the chef’s qualifications. Meanwhile, Lando was already plotting mischief, and Max was sipping his gin as if nothing in the world could faze him.

I found myself laughing at how these gatherings always followed the same unpredictable-yet-predictable pattern. It was hectic, but in the best way. As much as I hated to admit it, I would probably miss it if I left for Paris tonight. But I already had my ticket, urging me to start packing.

As I sat there, mentally preparing to say my goodbyes, the door opened again. In walked someone I didn’t recognize. He moved with a relaxed, almost casual confidence, and instantly, the energy in the room seemed to shift. He didn’t need to announce himself or make a grand entrance like Lando had — his presence was subtle but noticeable.

His hair was slightly tousled, the kind that looked soft and effortlessly styled in that perfectly imperfect way. The moment he smiled, a warm, very cute grin, I felt a brief flicker of something, my heart beating a little faster in my chest. There was something disarming about him. He had the kind of smile that made you feel like you’d known him forever, even though I’d never seen him before.

He stepped closer, his green eyes flicking to me. “You must be Y/N,” he said, his voice smooth and pleasant as he extended a hand.

I blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the easy charm he exuded. It wasn’t forced or showy, just... natural. Recovering quickly, I shook his hand. “That’s me. Nice to meet you.”

“Franco,” He held onto my gaze for a moment, the playful glint in his eyes unmistakable. “Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot.”

“All good things, I hope,” I replied, trying not to be too obvious as I shot a quick glance at Alexandra, who was absolutely soaking up this moment.

“Always,” he said with a playful glint in his eyes before releasing my hand.

Alexandra didn’t waste a second before giving me that knowing look, the one that practically screamed I told you you should stay. I elbowed her lightly, trying to suppress my smile and the butterflies that were fluttering in my stomach. 

Before I could continue the conversation or ask Franco who exactly had been talking about me, Charles’s phone buzzed loudly from across the room. As he glanced down, and the expression on his face shifted so fast it was almost comical — the laid-back vibe of the evening vanished instantly.

“Oh no.”

“What is it?” I asked, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach.

Charles stared at his phone, his brow furrowed. “It’s a hurricane alert.”

“A hurricane?” Lando immediately perked up, jumping off the couch as if the word itself had given him a burst of energy. “In Monte Carlo?”

Charles nodded, his expression darkening. “Yeah. Whole south of France. All flights are grounded, transportation is suspended and residents must stay inside.”

My stomach sank. “My flight…”

Alexandra, not missing a beat and clearly enjoying the chaos unfolding, sipped her wine and smirked. “Looks like you’re not going anywhere.”

Lando, ever the opportunist, grabbed Charles’s phone from him and squinted at the screen. “Ouragan? That’s the French word for hurricane? That’s got to be a joke.” He wrinkled his nose, making it sound even more absurd than it already did.

Max, sitting comfortably and sipping his gin, raised an eyebrow laughing. “That’s why I live in the Italian speaking part.”

“Lando, right now is not the moment to be critical of the French.” George said, looking concerned. 

Charles let out a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his hair, now visibly stressed. “Everything’s closed down. We’re stuck here for the night.”

Franco, now fully settled into a chair beside me, shrugged casually. “There are worse places to be stuck,” he said, his voice light, as if we weren’t all just stranded.

I glanced over at him, and he smiled again, that same easy warmth that seemed to make everything feel a little less chaotic. The thought of being stuck suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

Lando, on the other hand, looked positively thrilled. “Guess we’re having a proper night in!” He clapped his hands together, already mentally planning the night ahead.

Meanwhile, George, who had been standing to the side, immediately shifted into problem-solving mode. “We need to secure the windows, check supplies, make sure we have—”

“George, mate,” Max cut in, raising his glass without looking up, “it’s a little hurricane, not the end of the world. We’re fine.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the ridiculousness of the situation beginning to sink in. As subtly as I could, I turned to sneak another glance at the guy next to me. His presence, along with that gentle, easy smile, had a way of making everything else feel a little less chaotic. For a brief moment, the reality of being stuck in here didn’t seem so bad. 

..

It didn’t take long for the mood in the apartment to shift, Lando, of course, was the first to act, bouncing off the couch and making a beeline for the Bluetooth speaker.

“If we’re stuck here, we might as well make it fun!” he declared, pulling out his phone and connecting it to the speaker. Within seconds, upbeat music filled the room as Lando scrolled through his playlist, queuing up tracks to keep the vibe alive. “Max, you in?”

Max, who had been lazily sipping his gin and tonic, grinned and gave a small nod. “Always.”

With the music pumping, it was clear that Lando and Max were determined to turn the situation into a party, despite the looming hurricane. I glanced at Alexandra, who simply shook her head, amused.

Meanwhile, Charles was pacing near the kitchen, still on the phone with the now-stranded private chef. His frustration was evident in the deep sighs he kept letting out. “Yes, I get it. But seriously? Not even a chance? Yeah, okay. Fine. Thanks,” he muttered, hanging up with an exasperated expression. “The chef can’t make it. We’re on our own.”

“That’s our cue,” Alexandra said, standing up and rolling her sleeves. “Y/N, you ready to help me chef it up?”

“Lead the way,” I replied, following her into the kitchen. The ingredients we had weren’t extensive, but Alexandra was already surveying the options with a critical eye, assessing what we could make work. “How about a classic tarte tatin to start and coq au vin for the main course?” she suggested, her eyes gleaming with the challenge.

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re feeling ambitious.”

She smirked. “We’re in Monte Carlo, aren’t we? Let’s do this properly.”

We quickly got to work, but as we gathered ingredients, I could feel someone hovering. Sure enough, George had appeared at the edge of the kitchen, arms crossed, watching us with that critical, calculating look. He looked ready to swoop in at any moment.

“I just want to make sure everything’s going according to plan,” George said, his tone a little too intense for a casual night stuck in a storm. “Are you sure you want to sauté those vegetables at that heat? I mean, it’s important we get the timing just right…”

Alexandra and I exchanged a quick glance, both of us trying not to laugh but also feeling the mounting pressure of George’s constant observations. It wasn’t that he was wrong, but his looming presence was starting to make things awkward.

Before either of us could respond, Franco, who had been leaning against the counter, stepped in with perfect timing. “You know, George, you’re really the only one here who knows how to handle a hurricane situation properly. I mean, I wouldn’t know the first thing about securing an apartment for a storm like this,” Franco said, his voice sincere but with a hint of playful exaggeration.

George, caught off guard, turned to Franco with a raised brow. “Well, thank you for noticing! Finally someone who takes my expertise to heart.”

Franco nodded, widening his eyes slightly as if he were genuinely impressed. “Yes! You’ve got to come up with gameplan, George.”

George’s posture shifted, the critical kitchen gaze giving way to the more pressing issue of hurricane preparedness. “Well, I suppose someone should check the windows… and the doors. And make sure we have everything we need in case it gets worse.”

Franco smiled, giving him a reassuring nod. “Exactly, and you’re the best person for that. Don’t worry about us in here. I’ll make sure everything’s under control while you handle the important stuff.”

George stood a little taller, clearly feeling validated. “Right. I’ll get to it, then.” With that, he turned on his heel and started making his way toward the windows, leaving the kitchen — and us — in peace.

I let out a quiet breath of relief as Franco turned back toward us with a mischievous grin. 

Alexandra chuckled, tossing him a knife. “Not bad. We owe you for that one.”

Franco caught the knife easily, giving a mock bow. “Happy to be of service. Need any help? Shall I chop something? Stir?”

I exchanged a glance with Franco, who had already rolled up his sleeves and was looking at the ingredients with a playful grin. “You any good at this?” I asked, 

“I’ve got some skills,” he said, flashing that same warm smile from earlier. “Just tell me what you need, and I’ll take care of it.”

I blushed a little, which Franco seemed to notice. He let out a soft chuckle, brushing his hand over my lower back as he walked to the other side of the kitchen to grab a cutting board. 

As we got deeper into the cooking, Franco’s talkative side started to show. He moved smoothly through the kitchen, cutting vegetables, making jokes, and occasionally breaking into exaggerated commentary about our process.

“You know, this tarte tatin is already looking better than any I’ve ever seen. Michelin-star level for sure,” he said with a grin, watching as I arranged the caramelized apples in the pan.

“Oh, absolutely,” Alexandra chimed in with a teasing tone. “I’m sure we’ll have food critics knocking down the door any minute now.”

Franco raised his hands in surrender, still smiling. “Hey, I’m just saying, if this racing thing doesn’t work out, I now got a backup plan.”

The smell of the coq au vin simmering away filled the apartment, a comforting aroma that seemed to blend perfectly with the upbeat music still playing from Lando’s speaker. Max, now fully entertained by Lando’s ridiculous dance moves, was swaying along with him, both of them taking occasional breaks to sip their drinks and laugh at each other.

I glanced back at Franco as he finished chopping, handing the neatly diced vegetables to Alex. “You’re a natural,” I said, impressed by how quickly he picked up the rhythm of the kitchen.

“Guess you bring out the best in me,” he replied with a wink, and I felt a warmth rise to my cheeks despite myself.

I couldn’t help but smile at that, the stress of the hurricane melting away little by little as we worked. Franco was good at keeping things light, his constant chatter and easygoing attitude making the cooking feel more like fun than an obligation.

After placing the tarte tatin in the oven, I wiped my hands and glanced out toward the rest of the apartment. George was now in full storm-prep mode, diligently checking windows, making sure everything was locked tight, and muttering under his breath about emergency plans. Charles, though still somewhat stressed, had at least stopped pacing and was leaning against the counter, sipping a drink as he watched Lando and Max’s antics.

“Not bad for a last-minute Plan B, huh?” Franco said, standing beside me as he washed his hands at the sink.

“Not bad at all,” I replied, feeling a warm sense of accomplishment as the scents filled the apartment. 

..

Dinner was a success, much to the delight of everyone in the apartment. The tarte tatin had been perfect, golden and crisp, and the coq au vin rich and flavorful, enough to win over even George, who begrudgingly admitted that “for a last-minute dinner, it wasn’t bad at all.” 

The energy in the apartment was buzzing, and the storm outside seemed like a distant hum. With Lando’s playlist still thumping in the background, we settled in the living room, everyone lounging comfortably after the meal. But George, predictably, couldn’t handle the idea of sitting idle for too long.

“Right,” George announced, standing up and clapping his hands together. “Now that we’ve eaten, how about some games? We could do something like charades or—”

Max, already sprawled out with his drink in hand, rolled his eyes. “Boring,” he drawled. “Let’s play something fun, like a drinking game.”

Lando’s face lit up immediately. “Now that’s more like it!”

George looked appalled. “A drinking game? We just had dinner!”

“That’s exactly why,” Max said, raising his glass. “Got to flush it down for dessert.”

Lando, grinning ear to ear, was already hopping off the couch. “Alright, but it has to be something chaotic. Max, what’s that one game we talked about? The one from New Girl?”

“True American,” Max replied, slouching further into his chair with a smirk. “That’s the one.”

George frowned. “What in the world is True American?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “It’s a drinking game, but with no clear rules, lots of chaos, and a touch of American history thrown in for fun.”

“And the floor is lava,” Lando added, already rearranging the room, pushing chairs and cushions into strategic positions.

“The floor is… lava?” George echoed, still looking deeply confused.

“Yep! So you have to move from piece of furniture to piece of furniture without touching the ground,” I explained, grinning as I grabbed some throw pillows to use as extra stepping stones.

Franco chuckled beside me, shaking his head. “Sounds like absolute madness.”

“Exactly,” I said, laughing. “You’ll love it.”

Max, now fully invested, sat up slightly. “Also, there are random trivia questions, mostly American history. And whenever someone shouts, ‘JFK!’ you have to drink.”

George raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “None of us are American. Can’t we do a British variant instead?”

“That wouldn’t be fair, mate,” Lando chuckled, stretching out his arms as if preparing for the chaos that was about to unfold. “You’re practically the lovechild of David Attenborough and the Encyclopaedia Britannica.”

“Yeah, at least let’s pick something where we all have an equal chance of winning,” Alexandra added, already on her feet and moving chairs around with an excited bounce. “Let’s call it True F1.”

Charles, who had been quietly observing the conversation from the couch, finally chimed in with a grin. “I’d actually love to see how you guys twist F1 trivia into a drinking game.”

Lando, never one to waste a good opportunity, was already hopping between the coffee table and the armrest of the nearest chair. “Alright! Here’s how it works: the floor is still lava, obviously. But instead of random American history facts, you shout out random F1 facts — the weirder, the better. If someone calls out a track name, you have to switch ‘circuits’, aka furniture, without touching the floor. Got it?”

Max smirked, finishing off his drink. “Sounds ridiculous. I’m in.”

Within minutes, the living room had been transformed into a messy obstacle course of chairs, pillows, and random objects. Lando, the unofficial captain of chaos, had already hopped onto the coffee table, gesturing for everyone to join him.

The game quickly descended into the same kind of chaos that Lando had promised. Max and Charles were the first to yell out random facts.

“Did you know Toto’s real first name is Totoro?” Max announced confidently, clearly just making things up for the fun of it, earning a glare from George.

“Very funny, mate,” Lando called back, leaping onto a chair. “But did you know Michael Schumacher once raced a kangaroo in Australia?”

Charles, balancing on the armrest of the couch, raised an eyebrow, amused but skeptical. “I’m pretty sure that didn’t happen.”

George, meanwhile, looked completely bewildered. “Wait, what? Is any of this true?”

“Doesn’t matter!” Lando shot back, moving to a footstool.

I found myself laughing uncontrollably, trying to maintain my balance as I stood on the armrest of a chair. Franco, standing nearby on the coffee table, reached out a hand to help me jump to the next ‘circuit’ — in this case, a cushion on the floor.

“Careful,” he teased, his hand steadying me. “You don’t want to fall into ‘Turn 13 at Monaco.’ It’s a tricky one.”

“Monaco? I thought we were in Silverstone,” I replied with a grin as I took his hand.

Franco chuckled, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. “It’s a complicated circuit.”

As I jumped, I almost lost my balance, wobbling slightly. Franco, quick to react, caught me, his arm wrapping around my waist to steady me. His touch was warm, and as our eyes met, the playful atmosphere between us shifted, feeling suddenlya bit more charged.

“You good?” he asked softly, his smile still warm but with a little more weight behind it.

“Yeah,” I breathed, trying to ignore the blush creeping up on my cheeks. “Thanks.”

I honestly didn’t mind standing like this. For a second, it felt like the rest of the game had faded into the background, the noise dimming around us. But then, just as quickly, Charles shouted from across the room, “Spa-Francorchamps!”

The spell broke. Franco let go, and I hopped onto the next chair, trying to suppress the grin that was forming on my face.

The game continued with more nonsensical facts. Max tried to convince George that Fernando Alonso once moonlit as a matador, while Lando made up a story about Kimi Räikkönen secretly being Oscar Piastri’s dad.

Meanwhile, Alexandra, acrobatically clinging a nearby bookshelf, caught my eye, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “T’as capté? Il te lâche pas du tout.” (Did you catch that? He can’t stop looking at you.)

I laughed, shaking my head. “Arrête…” (Stop…)

She raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer. “T’inquiète, ma puce, j’dirai rien... mais c’est cramé!” (Don’t worry, sweetie, I won’t say anything… but it’s so obvious!)

We giggled, and across the room, Charles, who had clearly understood the exchange, raised an eyebrow, amused. He didn’t say anything, but his knowing look said enough.

Lando, noticing the laughter but missing the French, put his hands on his hips dramatically. “Oi! What’s going on over there? You two plotting in French again? That’s not fair!”

Alexandra and I burst into laughter, but before I could explain, Lando waved a hand dramatically. “Fine! You know what? Max! We’ll speak Dutch and leave them out.”

Max raised his glass, thoroughly entertained. “Go ahead, mate.”

Lando nodded, puffing up with mock determination. “Absolutely. Let’s go!”

Max leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Alright, your turn.”

Lando furrowed his brow in concentration and attempted his best Dutch. “Uhh… Ik… spreek beetje Nederland… ja?”

Max nearly choked on his gin. “That’s… good effort.”

Undeterred, Lando kept at it, much to Max’s amusement. “Lekker... uh… ja?”

Max waved him off, laughing. “Stop. You’re embarrassing the language.”

The game continued late into the evening, with everyone’s laughter filling the room. Despite the storm outside, the chaos, and the completely nonsensical F1 trivia, it felt like we’d turned the night into something unexpectedly fun.

..

The night had wound down after hours of conversation, laughter, and chaotic games. The storm outside was still relentless, but inside the apartment, everything felt warm and comfortable. Conversations had softened, and people were beginning to yawn, signaling the end of the night.

Alexandra and Charles were the first to head off, exchanging quiet goodnights before disappearing into their room. The rest of us remained scattered around the living room, tired but still riding the wave of the evening’s energy.

Max, who had been slowly sinking into the armchair with his sixth gin and tonic, stood up, stretched, and made a beeline for the guest room without a word. It was clear he was done for the night. Lando was half-asleep on the larger couch, sprawled out in his usual dramatic fashion, leaving little room for George, who had claimed the other side.

Franco, who had been lounging on the small two-seater sofa, stretched his arms and looked over at me. “Looks like this is my spot for the night,” he said with a grin, patting the cushion beside him. “Not much room, except between Lando and George. You might as well join me.”

I hesitated for a second, but the way he said it — so casual and light, yet with that playful spark in his eyes — made it clear that the offer wasn’t just about space. The tension between us was undeniable.

I smirked, feigning reluctance. “Alright, but if you take up all the room, I’m kicking you off.”

Franco chuckled softly, shifting over to make space for me. “Deal.”

I sat down next to him, the proximity between us much closer than I had anticipated. The couch was small, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, being close to Franco felt easy, natural. His arm rested across the back of the sofa, and as we settled in, his fingers lightly brushed my shoulder.

We sat there for a moment in silence, the only sounds coming from the soft rumble of the storm outside and the occasional rustling from Lando’s half-asleep movements on the other couch. The apartment had gone from a chaotic whirlwind of noise and laughter to a quiet, almost serene atmosphere.

Franco shifted slightly, his fingers moving gently to stroke my hair. The movement was soft and rhythmic, calming, and I felt my heart skip a beat. I leaned into him, resting my head against his chest. His touch was tender, each stroke of his hand sending a warm shiver through me as I relaxed into the closeness between us.

We didn’t need to say anything. The silence between us spoke volumes, and as the storm continued to rage outside, I felt a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the blankets or the fire. Franco’s presence next to me, his fingers softly tracing through my hair, was all the comfort I needed.

As we lay there, my eyes growing heavy, Franco leaned down just slightly, his breath warm against my hair. “Sleep well,” he whispered.

I smiled, closing my eyes. “You too.”

And with that, the storm outside became nothing more than a distant hum as I drifted off, cocooned in the warmth of Franco’s embrace, his hand still softly stroking my hair.

..

The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the apartment. The storm had passed, leaving only the gentle patter of rain ticking against the window. stirred slightly, realizing that Franco’s arm was still wrapped around me, and my head rested comfortably against his chest. It might sound a bit odd but waking up like this — still wrapped up in his embrace — felt surprisingly natural.

Franco shifted beneath me, his arm tightening briefly before he blinked awake, his eyes meeting mine with a soft, sleepy smile.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice still low and heavy with sleep.

“Morning,” I replied, matching his smile.

Neither of us moved for a few moments, letting the quiet of the morning linger between us. I could hear faint sounds coming from the kitchen, the telltale signs of someone already up and making breakfast. I lifted my head slightly, glancing over toward the kitchen, and saw Lando and George huddled near the stove, clearly trying not to be obvious as they watched us.

Lando, with his ever-present grin, didn’t miss a beat. “Well, well, well. Look who’s finally awake.”

George, more restrained but no less amused, added, “Breakfast is almost ready... in case you’re interested.”

I sat up, reluctantly pulling myself away from Franco’s embrace, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks under their teasing gazes. Franco, however, seemed completely unbothered, sitting up with a lazy stretch and flashing them a grin. “You guys couldn’t give us a few more minutes?”

Lando flipped a pancake with dramatic flair. “Mate, I’ve been up for hours. Go do that lovey dovey stuff some other time.”

Before I could respond, more footsteps approached from the hallway, and soon enough, Max and Charles appeared, both looking groggy but curious. Charles raised an eyebrow when he saw Franco and me, but he said nothing, just exchanged a knowing glance with Alexandra, who had wandered into the room with a smile.

She looked between Franco and me, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Leaning in, she whispered, “Je vois que tu as passé une très bonne nuit… “(I see you had a very good night...)

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking my head at her teasing. Franco glanced between us, clearly picking up on the tone but not the words. “What did she say this time?”

“Just more girl talk,” I replied with a grin, standing up.

The kitchen smelled of pancakes, coffee, and eggs as everyone gathered around the table for breakfast. The atmosphere was relaxed. Even Max, still hungover, managed a grin as the lighthearted banter continued.

After breakfast, as everyone began packing up and getting ready to leave, Franco pulled me aside. His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. “So... I was thinking.”

I turned to him, curious. “About what?”

He hesitated for just a second, but then smiled. “I live in Madrid, and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me for a few extra days. It’d be nice to spend some more time together... before you head back to Paris.”

Hearing it made my heart flutter. Madrid. A few extra days with Franco. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

“I’ve had a lot of fun and I’m not ready to say goodbye yet. If you let me, of course.”

“I’d love that,” I replied softly.

Franco’s grin widened, the excitement clear on his face. “Perfect.”

Before I could say anything else, Lando’s voice cut through the room. “Oi! What’s this about Madrid? You two planning a romantic getaway?”

Franco didn’t miss a beat. He leaned down, planting a soft kiss on the top of my head, and then turned to Lando with a mischievous grin. “Jealous?”

Lando clutched his chest dramatically. “A little bit, yeah! Where’s my invite?”

Everyone laughed, even Max managed a small chuckle behind his coffee cup. The teasing flowed easily as we packed up, and the mood in the apartment was as bright as the morning outside. Whatever had started between Franco and me felt natural, fun, and as I grabbed my things, I couldn’t help but feel a little giddy about what was next. I wasn’t nervous, just excited —a new adventure waiting to unfold.

[mikimakiboo]

Time Travelers AU - Unexpected visitors

Oooookay first drabble based on the silly au idea I had :D

I decided to make it into short parts so that I can (hopefully) post faster than if I made big parts, so that's why it's kinda short

This one is written from Dust's pov so I won't translate what anyone says so you can have an authantic experience just like Dust :) (unless you speak French, Old French, Old Norse and Latin of course)

Btw it was hell to find a descent translator for Old French so Cross won't be speaking much lmao (neither will Horror but he's just not much of a talker to begin with)

Next

@ancha-aus come here :3

One exhausting day added to the list, Dust internally sighed as he opened the door to his appartment with a creaking noise. He lived in an old building on the first floor, almost half of the stuffs were broken but at least he didn't have many neighboors and he had a little backyard so he could touch some grass on the week-end. He didn't have enough money to move out anyway so he wasn't going to complain. It was a small appartment, you entered with the kitchen on the right and two doors on the left, the first leading to the bathroom and the second to the bedroom, and in front of you was the living room with a couch, a table and a few chairs, the TV was on the wall in front of the couch. The door to the small square shaped backyard was on the opposite wall, in front of the entry door. It was small but more than enough for the skeleton living alone.

He put his bag on the kitchen counter, took off his shoes and fell flat on his couch. He had to eat, but he just wanted to rest a little before he gathered the energy to get up and go cook. He was just going to take a quick ten minutes nap.

He woke up with a light shining bright through his window, was it already morning ? Did he sleep on his couch again ? He looked up, rubbing his eyesockets as he grumbled, but the light didn't seem to come from the sun, it was to bright and too white, it looked like a neon light from a big spot, which he didn't have any near or in his backyard.

- What the fuck... ?

The light disappeared when he stood up, for a moment he contemplated going back to sleep, but he quickly changed his mind when he heard speaking, or more precisely screams, coming from his garden. Did someone break in ? He swiftly went to grab a knife in his kitchen and slowly opened his curtains to take a quick look outside, to see how many they were so he could call the cops.

- Wh-

He was speachless in front the scene happening before him. Did a cosplay parade broke into his backyard ? Why the hell were there a knight, a viking, some roman and a sort of prince in his garden ? And why were they all screaming at each other in languages that he couldn't understand ? Wait were those real weapons ?

He opened the door, and everyone looked at him, having stopped yelling. They all looked at each other for a while, no one making any move, at least Dust had time to analyze them. They were all skeletons, the roman was dressed in a dirty brown tunic with a leather bag around the waist and two knives in his hands, a black liquid was dripping from his empty sockets. The viking was tall and massive, dressed in thic furr clothes, pobably for the winter, he had an axe that was as tall as him, a hole in his skull and a big shining red eye, his whole look screamed intimidating. The knight was, well, dressed as a knight in an armor and holding a sword, he had a red scar underneath his right socket and mismatched eyelights, behind him was the last skeleton, a black one, dressed very elegantly in purple clothes, looking like a noble more than a prince as he wasn't wearing any crown. Their costumes looked really well made, they definitely had a good budget.

The roman was the first to talk.

- Ubi sum et qui estis ?

- What ? Speak English man.

Dust answered, not understanding a word of what that stranger just said. The roman repeated slower.

- Ubi sum et qui estis ?

- English, dude, English.

Dust asked again. Damn, these cosplayers really went all out didn't they ? The noble sighed, visibly even more irritated than Dust.

- Il essaie de vous demander où il se trouve et qui nous sommes, vous ne parlez donc pas le latin ?

Okay that sounded like French. Dust didn't speak French.

- Do none of you speak English ?

He asked, but received no response. The knight spoke, looking confused.

-Je ne comprens mie.

That sounded like French too, a weird version of French. Dust looked at the viking.

- You. You speak English ?

- ᛇᛋᛏᛖ ᚲᛖ ᚹᛟᚢ ᛞᛁᛏᛖ ?

- Damn okay that's worse.

It now seemed very apparent that none of them spoke English, which made the situation even weirder, and harder to manage too.

- Okay wait here for a second.

Dust instructed them before going back inside, grabbing his phone, and going back outside where no one had moved, various looks of confusion spreading on their face.

- You, French guy, come here.

He pointed to the noble who looked at him like he just insulted his mother, but still he approached him, the knight following him while keeping an eye on the others.

- Okay speak.

He said, holding out his phone opened on the Google Translate page. The noble looked at his phone, visibly confused.

- Qu'est-ce que cette.. chose.. que vous tenez ?

The translation appeared on the screen: "what is that thing you're holding ?" it said. Wait, he didn't know what a phone was ? The situation might be even more complicated than what Dust initially thought. He quickly typed his answer and clicked on the vocal command, asking the other who he was and where did they all come from.

- Mon nom est Nightmare, je suis un noble du grand Royaume de France et je vous prierais de ne point m'associer à ces.. personnages, dont je ne connaissais pas l'existence il y a de cela un instant.

He answered, looking at the others with disdain. The translation arrived. His name was Nightmare, he came from the Kingdom of France and was a noble, and he apparently didn't know who these people were. Dust typed another question, this time asking in which century they currently were, he had a thought, but wanted to be sure, because it sounded very absurd, but again, the situation in itself was absurd.

- Le dix-septième, évidemment, comment ne savez-vous point cela ?

The seventeenth. He thought he was in the seventeenth century, in the French kingdom, and didn't know what a phone was. Judging by how everyone looked and talked, they were probably also from different centuries. What happened for them to end up here ?

Dust sighed, for now, he could at least ask for their name.

- Okay so he is Nightmare, and I am Dust, you, who are you ?

Dust asked, pointing at Nightmare and then himself before pointing at the roman who looked at him with confusion.

- Him Nightmare, me Dust, you ?

The roman didn't talk. Nightmare sighed again, looking more and more annoyed with everything.

- Rogat quod nomen tibi est.

- Oh, nomen meum Killer est.

He finally answered, in a language that Dust's phone recognized to be Latin and which Nightmare seemed to be fluent in. Then Nightmare turned to the Knight.

- Vostre nom.

- Je me nome Cross, vostre altece.

Nightmare then turned to the viking, but didn't talk this time, he just stared, the viking however seemed to understand what they were all doing as he answered with his name.

- Horror.

Nightmare turned to Dust, looking at him with a very smug smile on his face, clearly showing his languages skills as he could apparently speak French, some variant of French, and Latin. He seemed to be the only one able to do that aside from Dust's phone.

- Oookay, so Nightmare the noble, Cross the knight, Killer the roman and Horror the viking, great.

Dust sighed, really hoping that all that was just a dream and he would wake up soon, but if it was really just a dream, his head wouldn't hurt like that.

- I'm going back inside, you.. uh.. can come in if you promise not to kill each other and not to turn my appartment into a mess, well, a bigger mess.

He said as he typed on Google and let the French translation be heard. Nightmare listened, looked up at Dust, looked at his appartment with an almost repelled expression on his face, and looked back at the skeleton like he was making fun of him.

- Vous voulez que j'entre dans cette étable ?

Nightmare asked, the translation asking Dust if he wanted him to enter this stable, referring to his apartment. Frenchie was a bitch, noted.

- It's all I have, unless you want to stay outside.

He told him. Nightmare sighed when he heard the translation but didn't reply, letting Dust translate in Latin and Old Norse that he invited everyone inside on the condition that they didn't make a mess or kill each others.

Killer was the first to go in, putting his knives back in his bag, visibly not worried that it might be a trap, he just went to explore this new place. Cross stayed by Nightmare's side, they might not have known each other but Cross was a knight and Nightmare was a noble, it made sense for him to stay close to him, it was his duty to protect him. Horror seemed suspicious, but seeing how Dust seemed genuine and not much of a threat he decided to enter too, much more carefully than Killer. Dust looked at them pass by him and turned to face the last two, waiting for them to enter as well. Cross went in first, inspected the inside before coming out again and talking to Nightmare who stayed outside.

- Il n'i a auncun dangeor, vous poez entrer.

Nightmare looked at him for a few seconds without moving before finally following the knight inside. Dust guessed he must have told him the place was safe.

With everyone inside Dust went back in and closed the door. They all looked at him, waiting for him to say something.

Well.

Dust didn't know what to say.

Why didn't he just stay asleep ?

[ihopesocomic]

Wait so you mean to tell me MP ISNT someone's indie creation passion project and actually a show with a buject and stuff??

Great, now I can finally say this without feeling bad: why does the animation look like THAT. It just looks so wonky??? Like the characters are about to fall appart at any second because they are made of paper that has been hastly glued togheter?

Because if its your passion project, yeah I get it, animating is hard. I animate too, and god making the characters move and look good is difficult. But if its a show and you're getting paid (or u have money to give someone else to animate it) why dont make it look better? And actually learn how ro use the engine you're using?

My Pride was not somebody's indie passion project, no. It had a budget and said budget was funded by "an agency of the provincial [Canadian] government" (Ontario Creates) via taxpayer money. You'll notice that they're credited at the end of each episode.

I'm sorry to hear you've been misled. You're not the first and you certainly won't be the last. oof

As for the animation, we know somebody who offered Tribble assistance on how to use Toon Boom more effectively and make the process easier for her. Their offer was turned down. To compound this, since Tribble opted for limited animation, and since a lot of the time the characters are standing while talking: re-drawing characters for every single scene was just a further waste of valuable time that could've been spent doing other things to make the show presentable.

I do feel there are some parts of the show that do look nicely animated, as we said in our analysis. It's just a shame that this wasn't a consistent thing. I don't know the reasoning behind that either. I can only assume that the most obvious culprit seems to be a lack of model sheets. I feel the animation team did their best with what limited direction they appear to have been given.

And it's also this inconsistent animation that has led people to believe that it wasn't a professional project. Even though professional = polished and nice looking/hobbyist = bad and amateurish is a very common misconception that needs to die already. lol - RJ

[lexithevalkyrie]

Fat tip number 14: finding clothes as a growing t-girl?

Now, most tall tans women have probably ran into this problem before growing out our curves. You're scrolling through sites hunting for some cute or spicy to wear, and just when you through, you found the one. It's 2 sizes too small. It is a frustrating factor for women who are already tall, but there are some great places to go and find clothes that can fit you.

Easily the best place to conveniently shop at is Amazon, with a wide range of styles and affordable clothing. For those who just need new clothes quickly, I would recommend scrolling through there.

For an even cheaper option, ASOS is considered a much more ethical version of shein, exceptional for tall girls on a budget.

A local option for yall is target, especially for pants, I haven't had much trouble finding pants or shots that fit me even as 6ft t-girl!

And of course, you can look up specialty tailors who can make things fit just right for you. But this is the most expensive option, so if you got a lot of money to spend I highly recommend getting some custom outfits 👌

As always don't be discouraged if you can't find clothes quickly, it's just appart of the process of growing~

Credit to @shyberrybabe for the gif

[smolerthanthediagram]

Just saw a post about how studies path is different for everyone and it reminded me of how I loved the Good Will Hunting reference in Community and how it shows some interesting anti ellitist views about career choices and social class

Im adding a link of the scene in question for context but for those who can't watch it, in s1 ep24 there are some math students struggling to resolve a puzzle on a green board. Then they are gone and Troy approaches, takes a chalk, stares at the board, ans just goes away with the chalk lol, before stopping at the water machine to drink, but sees it's not working, so he then proceeds to repair it like he has been doing this his whole life. Then he leaves and two plumbers, who saw the scene, come to talk to him, too late.

First the gag is really funny, like textbook setup payoff joke, but with a double payoff because the first one is that Troy is not good at logic so it shouldnt be a surprise he doesn't resolve the puzzle. But because we all know good will hunting we are still expecting it. But this would have been unsatisfying/unfinished if Troy would have resolved nothing at all, and so instead he repairs the pipes of the water machine, and this is how we get to see his actual gift : repairing stuff.

Troy in this gag is a mirror of Will : just like him, he is in a life path that can't make him discover and exploit his true potential ; like him his speciality is almost a gift, something he has intuitively, and that he is always good at, and can get him to prestigious places (Troy later learns he is the chosen one to plumbing school AND AC repair school, and even becomes the Messiah of the latter and saves someone's life and restores justice with his gift - s3 ep 22). But on the surface, Troy has an opposite path from will : while Will starts as a janitor and ends up as a student, Troy does the opposite: he starts as a student and becomes a worker of manual labour, something that, in our world, is seen as less valuable, and a downgrade from his former status. But not in Greendale. Here the ac repair school is like this masonic organisation that controls Greendale's budget and by doing so holds the actual power, because they are the only ones who can actually guarantee their students a job at the end of their cursus.

And while it sounds crazy, it is not far from the truth. Speaking for myself, I tried (and failed) a master degree in human sciences only to find out I wouldn't have been sure to find a job with it anyways because long studies are not valuable anymore, whereas almost all the people I know who did short studies and more manual labor are in a more stable situation than me. I also have ADHD, and I'm almost sure Troy has as well which explains in part the struggling in this capitalist élitiste system. While classes give Troy a hard time to focus or study, repairing is something Troy is actually good at, and the series explains it by making a parallel with air conditioning and people, because "the true repairman will repair men" (s3 ep 22). Troy seems to actually use his high emotional intelligence (yet again something seen as less valuable than logic etc) to repair stuff because he know how things and people work. It doesn't matter if he doesn't have extended knowledge about everything because he is best at focusing on what's just before him and between his hands. This way community shows another look on manual labor and it's actual value, because let's not forget that without it the whole society litteraly falls appart.

PS : just a reminder that I know that choosing a job is very often not motivated by gift or passion because capitalism and so the ones in power need poor people who have nothing to lose to do the physical, hurting labor while the rich get to choose. This post was just taking about these jobs are seen as inferior because they are mostly done by people with low education, but that doesn't mean these jobs don't require actual skills and knowledge, on the contrary. Just wanted to clarify a bit

[space-blue]

Some final thoughts on the Acolyte.

I still think the show is flawed in its craft, but not in its core story!

I found it enjoyable, but some weeks had episodes that were weak and felt paded towards a fabricated cliff-hanger instead of a proper advancement of the story.

And in my opinion, it's most likely Disney's fault for not trusting them with more time and more budget. This show should have been longer and have more consistant, character driven story. Maybe an extra episode, definitely closer to 45-1h episodes instead of the 30min rush that some where.

In particular, the Witches and the nature of their relationships with the Jedi was left so undercooked, it was hard for me to get invested in the development of their story. It's hard to sit through scenes where kids "say stuff" that's basically lore dumps unsupported by the world. Then I have to write my own fanfiction in my head to explain away what the witches were doing and why the Jedi disapprove.

It's especially criminal because they have the PERFECT set up for this, in the form of this little buddy :

He's a *padawan* who finds his mission BORING. The discovery of a local coven should be an exciting development. And it's the perfect opportunity for his master to educate him, and through him us, about witches and why they are just a concern.

If the show had time, we would get to build up on Torbin, instead of him needing to speak out his own exposition minutes before having them exploited. This should have been a show's *ARC* not a single episode with hectic jumpcuts.

We could spend time learning WHY the Jedi dislike the witches. Spend time talking about Force Philosophy! Exploring alien lifestyles that the Jedi disprove of! Instead of the vague tone of "god forbid women do anything". Do the Witches have precendent? Bad history with the Jedi? Were they persecuted? Why don't we see, maybe a scene of an elder witch teaching them, and Osha loses attention in class while Mae listens, and we still hear the witch's voice, fainter and fainter, in the background, telling of those acts commited against them.

It would also serve to show Osha's disinterest for their heritage and why she's rather uncritical of the Jedi, so it's a scene of lore info AND character development!

Likewise, there's a critical lore discrepency that makes Osha ring so false in her backstory for me :

When on Brendook has Osha heard about the Jedi?? Where has she heard GOOD stuff about them? They seemingly live in a village radically opposed to them. She's 8 years old and born into a cult. What do you MEAN she wants to be a Jedi or even knows what they are???

I think she should either be completely clueless and be (again, over the course of an entire episode or more) exposed to them for the first time and come to get very hype, or there should be more people around the coven.

Case 1 : She's a kid getting a burst of sudden passion. Here's a new thing that she can throw all of herself into, and seems to offer her with more opportunities to be free than she has at home. The sacrifice of her family could be chalked up to her not really believing in it (she knows her planet's name and she could always come back) or she's just that sort of kid-like clueless and in a young rebellious phase.

Case 2 : The twins are isolated and treated as royalty-like. They are separate from the *other kids* in the Coven (or in the small town around the Coven). These kids are part of Osha's runaway regimen. She's a kid. If she can love going to sit under a tree just to escape her family, she'd go to other kids for sure. This could instill some jealousy or confusion in Mae. More importantly, those kids have heard there are Jedi on the planet, and they know about the Jedi. Their parents don't gatekeep info that much, and so Osha has learned about them and finds them cool, partially because they're forbidden.

This could still work with her and Mae being treated as appart/different and superior, and Osha could crave being equal with other kids and playing and not having to always share with Mae. It also makes the wipeout a bigger tragedy assuming we're not killing just witches but also 5 to 10 kids of all ages.

And that's another thing!! Having more time would mean making the whole last moments of the Coven less... nonsensical. Perhaps we'd have more time to spend into Indara's mind. Maybe we get some freedom to be fucky with it (think of the effects in Dune!)

Maybe we have time to give a shit about Kelnacca and everyone. Also maybe we have time to see Jecki and Sol interacting a little more on Coruscant, a bit of their routine? Maybe Sol's padawan gets more than a single throwaway scene?? Maybe her grief would be a great highlight of how the Jedi are expected to process the death of a master, and contrast with how Osha isn't even trying to process Jecki's death?

I don't think it's a good sign when you establish a coven of all women and a single line by the Sith guy makes everyone think he was present in the all-women coven because why else?? It's not a great misdirection, it's simply the audience having no understanding of the Coven and what it stood for.

Basically I don't think that exploring the lore of the world more in depth would have been detrimental to this show, despite its core of mystery. There are plenty of shows that hinge on twists and mystery that take their time diving down into their characters in greater depth.

The Acolyte is cool and the fights are amazing. The lore is great too, but it's too shallow to drown a squirrel in. It's "please write fanfic about it if you care" levels of shallow, even in the characters. It would have benefited from time to breath. 9 episodes of 40min to 1h is what Severance got, and that's a hell of a mystery based show!

I'm very happy though, in that I have hope that Headland may be given more freedom to do the second season as she pleases, if she gets it greenlit. If only she could be trusted more, and had the freedom to.. take her time... (and perhaps a better editor?) then we could have simply some of the best SW TV on our hands.

That's, of course, my humble opinion. This remains some of the best SW TV I've seen, but IMO besides Andor the bar is in fucking hell so it's not saying as much as I wish it did.

This is of course not a critique of the plot. I think it's sound and the mystery well thought out and the ending satisfying. This, however, makes my other criticism that much more heartfelt. If this same story had been done the way I describe above, (imo) it would be straight up great TV.

[takitafulily]

Misadventures of the MCs #07

Taking the Besties home pt4: MM!MC

(Slight Spoilers if you haven't played Mystic Messenger)

MM!MC: I'm not too spacious with accommodations but at least it's decent. I doubt the bed could fit all of us so half of us will need sleeping bags. Don't pick up my phone if it's buzzing, just tell me or someone might actually end up dead- No I'm not kidding- Try not to touch any stacks of paper or important looking documents or I'll be fucked-

LTD!MC: So do you just casually live in a stranger's apartment?-

MM!MC: I mean... yeah...

TWST!Yuu: Hey at least it's not going to tobble over any second or used to belong to dead people

MM!MC: ...about that-

OB!MC: At least they're just living in a stranger's apartment, they're not living WITH the strangers

WHB!MC: Yeah, at least they actually HAVE a place to live

LTD!MC: ... *sigh*

TWST!Yuu: Yo you have a stalker

MM!MC: ...how do you know that?

TWST!Yuu: When you have 4 people ready to jumpscare you daily, you gain a 6th sense for it.

MM!MC: huh, that's neat

TWST!Yuu: *stares at them*

MM!MC: oh, the stalker? Eh leave him be or he'll kidnap you for some cult.

TWST!Yuu: ...and here I thought I was desensitised-

(In the RFA chat)

707: hey MC do you have friends over at Rika's appartment?

MC: which one theres like 5 here

Yoosung: WHAT

707: WHAT

Yoosung: THERE'S MORE PEOPLE THAT KNOWS WHERE RIKA'S APPARTMENT IS???

707: THERE'S 5 PEOPLE AT RIKA'S APARTMENT???

Jumin: Wait that doesn't sound like MC

Jaehee: I agree Mx MC doesn't usually text like that

MC: oh if your talking about MM!MC theyre fighting with LTD!MC over a budget or wtev rn

707: what

MC: *picture of MM!MC yelling whilst holding up a piece of paper with numbers on it and LTD!MC point at the paper whilst holding a cup of coffee*

Zen: *gasp* a picture of MC

Jaehee: Wait so who is texting us right now?

MC: lol this is TWST!Yuu

MC: im just watching the drama lol OB!MC and WHB!MC went looking for the stalker even though MM!MC told them not to lol

MC: OH FUCK THE HAIR IS GETTING INVOLVED THIS IS GETTING GOOD ILL SEE YOU GUYS NEVER LMAO

Jumin: ...

Yoosung: ...

Jaehee: ...

Zen: ...

707: ... wtf just happened

*V entered the chat.*

V: hey guys what did I miss?

[crazy-lazy-elder-sims]

-the Tired accountant and the senior Designer pt2-

Hello again i decided to expand on my sims for the simblr office idea by @kashisun once again thank you for this and apologies if im a bit spammy im slightly excited lmao

Okay buckel up folks cause im about to take you on a journey TM lol

Introducing our office babes

Christian Sinclare:

33 years old but feels 50

Doesn't like coffee but drinks it to stay awake

His favorite color is Naomi's hair color👀

..... And sage green

Literally the only accountant in this company that you can talk to that wont bring up budget cuts in the first 5 mins

His favorite meme is the "keep calm and carry on" meme but people call him an old man if he brings it up. #leavesinclarealone2023

Always works late but only because he prefers to finish the financial reports on the same day he started them so he can sleep at night (anxiety gang hello👋)

So many coworkers from other depratments come down and talk to him about various Accounting things he has no idea why its not like he is the manger or head of the department ( its because he is handsome and all the peeps want a piece of him he's just too cluless to notice)

Obsessed with the presence of Mathematical algorithms in nature and everyday life

His favorite is how Bats can find the exact location of things using echo location and the math behind that

The golden Ratio is another obsession and he spends his days off in Museums observing painting that has them

Naomi Marroquin:

31 years old iced coffee addict

Her hair color was an accidental dark red home hair dye job that went wrong but she liked it so much she kept it for years

Her favorite color is red

Hates staying late and leaves the office at 5 o'clock sharp and no one can stop her (trust me they tried)

Says she doesn't care for all the office gossip and scandal but she is besties with the one HR employee from how much she goes down there to get the juicy gossip

Is the senior graphic designer but the graphic department head put her in charge of Budgeting and making exel sheets for the accounting department because she was the only one with "excel proficiency" on her resume

That was a lie

The first time she got assigned an excel sheet assignment she googled "how to learn excel fast" then added " for dummies" exactly 2 mins later

She oftten clashes withthe Accounting department on thier requestes to lower costs and cut out quality

Hates doing all the obove through email and tries to meet anyone from the accounting department but they all avoid her because they have no time for her 30 mins lectures about the importance of paper quality

Fun facts:

Naomi is taller than Christian 💓

Naomi used her personal email on accident for her resume which is called: Naomi.is.da.best.2012@simail.com but they hired her anyway because they desperately needed someone with excel skills

Naomi's corporate style is inspired by her mom who used to be a corporate goth but naomi is not one (infact some of her office Fashion staples were given to her by her mom)

Christian's second reason for staying late is that he hates going home to an empty quiet small Appartment and prefers the feel of the big spaces of the office

Christian refuses not not wear any sort of jacket during his workday but once the day is over and everyone leaves he takes of his jacket loosens up his tie and takes out his bun to feel more comfortable

Naomi once saw christian at a museum staring really hard at a painting then she saw that painting printed on a corset the next day it made her laugh so much she had to buy it for work

One day Naomi wore tights with bats on them (vintage 😉) when she arrived at work and "happened" to get in the elevator with Christian he instantly said "nice bats" but then panicked and went into how much he loves bats for 10 mins straight. Naomi instantly fell for that panicked rizz lol

Next day she came to the office with some nice bat earing but swears its not related to Christian and his love of bats(it is) and its NOT HER GIVING HIM SIGNS OMG GUYS DO YOU WANT ME TO GET WRITTEN UP TO HR( she totally was)

How they got close and began working together:

After a particularly tough day at work of having to stay late and trying to get through to the accounting department because they wont budge on buying the expensive colored ink for thier printers and how not doing that will compromise the color quality plus almost calling the accounting manger an uneducated potato,

she decided to pass by the empty (or so she thought) accounting department to let out some cuss words at a poor empty desk, she saw Sinclare sitting there tie loosened and all and decided to try again and convince him to not cut the important supplies from the budget

How she thought that conversation went:

How it actually went:

After he recovered from that he told her he will help her write better more convincing reports to present to the department and from then on they became friends (who are trying so hard and failing not to fall for each other)

Aaand Thats all for now folks if you read all that i wanna say thank you i love getting super inspired like this its so much fun! Tell me what you think of the babes here im So excited!

Thank you again to kashisun for this extremely fun idea❤️

[romainmeynier]

À seize ans, j’empruntais chaque samedi le RER E jusqu’à Magenta, puis la ligne 5 jusqu’à Breguet-Sabin, où je tentais en skateboard de sauter par dessus quelques volées de marches, ce que nous évitions de faire dans notre banlieue pavillonnaire, à cause du bruit des roues sur le bitume qui gênait les voisins. Plus jeune, vers mes dix ans, ma mère m’apprit à déchiffrer la signalétique du métro parisien pour que, plus âgé, je puisse m’y guider seul. J’ai embrassé une fille sur un quai aux abords de Notre-Dame, puis une autre sur le quai d’en face, bien des années plus tard ; des deux se dégageait la même odeur corporelle légèrement âcre et traînante que je gardai ensuite dans le nez plusieurs heures. Paris ne me manque pas lorsque j’en suis loin, mais je n’ai jamais envie d’en partir. Le matin, dans la ligne 2 en direction de Porte-Dauphine, s’il y a de la place, on peut s’asseoir dans le sens de la marche pour ne pas se sentir nauséeux, ou dans le sens inverse pour admirer le soleil se lever entre Jaurès et Barbès-Rochechouart. Quand j’étais en colonie de vacances, je disais aux autres enfants : Je viens du quatre-vingt-treize, du neuf-trois, pour les effrayer, ce qui généralement n’avait aucun effet sur eux. Plus tard, pour séduire une fille, j’avais simplement dit : de Paris, sans résultat, avant d’apprendre qu’elle venait de Marseille. La nuit, fenêtre ouverte, j’entends des coups de feu qui ne sont que des pétards qui explosent ou des objets qui tombent. Le 13 novembre 2015, je sortai du restaurant cinq minutes avant l’attaque, non loin, puis j’ai regardé à l’abri le nombre des victimes augmenter sur un écran d’ordinateur ; je suis ressorti vers cinq heures du matin dans une ville morte ; le 15 novembre, j’ai reçu un SMS qui disait : Le père de B. est mort au Bataclan ; le lundi 16 novembre, dans le métro, une fille pleurait à chaudes larmes, sans discontinuer, je me souviens avoir pensé, sans trop y croire, mais pour me rassurer, qu’elle avait peut-être été licenciée, ou trompée ; je me souviens aussi d’une femme qui lisait, l’air de rien, ou se forçait à lire. Je n’ai pas pu lire dans les transports pendant environ un mois. Je suis habitué à trois librairies, dans mon arrondissement ; par loyauté, quand je me rends dans l’une, j’entre aussi dans les deux autres, si bien que mon budget librairie est bien trop important ; l’intérieur de mon appartement est saturé de livres. J’ai passé une dizaine de nuits dans différents hôtels avec une fille que je n’aimais pas et qui m’a demandé en fiançailles. Quand je regarde les traces de calcaire déposées sur les verres nettoyés à l’eau courante, je pense que ces mêmes traces doivent être présentes à l’intérieur de mon corps, sur mes organes, aussi je décide d’acheter des packs d’Evian, puis me ravise en repensant aux cinq étages de mon immeuble et à l’écologie. Dans la rue, je songe parfois au milieu de la foule que la vie de chaque passant est contenue dans leurs têtes, qu’ils avancent en superposant les images de la ville à celles de leurs existences, de leurs histoires, que Paris les contient toutes et que je n’en suis qu’un fragment.

[empiredesimparte]

Napoléon V: What is it, Maman? Marie: I'm worried about you, Louis.

Marie: It's so late and you're alone in your office.

Napoléon V: I'm revising what I need to know for tomorrow, for my meeting with Parliament. I haven't mastered politics like Papa

Marie: My angel, it's past midnight. I can stay with you for a while. You shouldn't stay up all night. Napoléon V: Is Hortense in her flats? Marie: Yes.

Napoléon V: We've already studied together, but I don't feel ready. I'm not afraid to lead, but talking to politicians exasperates me... Marie: As exasperating as they may be, Louis, they too represent the French. You have to listen to each of them with patience.

Napoléon V: Sitting around listening to complaints about budgets? I don't think they really know the problems of the people. Dad said the Emperor is above all that Marie: Your father didn't mean to say that Parliament should be ignored. Listening isn't inactivity, on the contrary, it's the main quality of a leader for me. A monarch if he rules alone, however enlightened, is a tyrant.

⚜ Le Cabinet Noir | Palais des Tuileries, 1 Floréal An 230

Beginning ▬ Previous ▬ Next

Napoléon V : Qu'y a-t-il Maman ? Marie : Je m'inquiète pour toi, Louis. Il est si tard et tu restes seul dans ton bureau.

Napoléon V : Je révise ce que j'ai à savoir pour demain, pour ma rencontre avec le Parlement. Je ne maîtrise pas la politique comme Papa

Marie : Mon ange, il est minuit passé. Je peux rester avec toi un peu. Tu ne devrais pas veiller toute la nuit. Napoléon V : Hortense est dans ses appartements ? Marie : Oui

Napoléon V : Nous avons révisé ensemble déjà, mais je ne me sens pas prêt. Diriger ne me fait pas peur, mais parler aux politiciens m'exaspère Marie : Aussi exaspérants peuvent-ils être, Louis, ils représentent eux aussi les Français. Tu dois écouter chacun d'entre eux avec patience

Napoléon V : Rester là, assis à écouter les plaintes sur les budgets ? Je ne crois pas qu'ils sachent réellement les problèmes du peuple. Papa disait que l'Empereur est au-dessus de tout cela Marie : Ton père n'a pas dit qu'il faut ignorer le Parlement. Écouter n'est pas de l'inactivité, au contraire, c'est la principale qualité d'un dirigeant à mes yeux. Un monarque s'il gouverne seul, aussi éclairé soit-il, est un tyran.

[lejournalfaitmain]

Le Paris d’Haussmann

Georges-Eugène Haussmann (1809-1891), était un fonctionnaire français choisi par l’empereur Napoléon III pour rénover et renouveler une grande partie du centre de Paris afin de le rendre plus au goût du jour.

Le premier projet visait à améliorer l’assainissement, l’approvisionnement en eau et la circulation routière à Paris. La population de la Ville Lumière ayant doublé, les améliorations comprenaient une nouvelle division de la carte pour inclure huit arrondissements, ou districts, supplémentaires, et de nouveaux égouts ont été installés. Deux nouvelles gares, un marché, un hôpital et l’Opéra de Paris ont été construits et quatre autres parcs ont été créés. Les bâtiments anciens ont été détruits pour être remplacés par un style spécifique d’architecture néoclassique, tous de même hauteur et revêtus de pierre de couleur crème, pour créer une apparence uniforme sur les boulevards parisiens. Il a traité les bâtiments non pas comme indépendants, mais comme des éléments d’un paysage unifié. Ce style d’architecture est devenu connu sous le nom de style haussmannien.

Le rez-de-chaussée est généralement réservé aux commerces, tout comme la mezzanine. Les deuxième, troisième et quatrième étages sont des unités résidentielles et le cinquième étage dispose d’un seul balcon continu. Le toit mansardé, incliné à 45°, était occupé par des locataires à revenus plus modestes et des concierges.

À l’extérieur, des portes cochères pavées de pierre qui communiquent avec une cour servaient d’entrées à la noblesse pour entrer avec ses calèches.

Les cheminées qui servaient à l’origine au chauffage symbolisent désormais les toits emblématiques de Paris dans les films. À noter également que les minuscules balcons offrent certaines des plus belles vues de Paris.

Les intérieurs présentent généralement des parquets à chevrons, des moulures en plâtre élaborées, de hautes fenêtres, des armoires et des étagères intégrées, des cheminées en marbre et des portes françaises. C’est l’appartement par excellence du style parisien.

Comment reproduire ce style néoclassique typiquement parisien

Si jamais vous désirez ajouter un peu de charme haussmannien à votre propre appartement, pensez à investir dans un miroir au cadre doré. Il est généralement placé au-dessus de la cheminée en marbre, mais vous pouvez choisir un miroir pleine longueur pour votre vestiaire dans votre chambre. Ajoutez également des chandeliers dorés ou des plafonniers assortis. La plupart des murs sont généralement blancs, ce qui peut rendre les choses un peu plus faciles pour les locataires soumis aux restrictions de leurs propriétaires.

Si votre budget le permet, introduisez une cheminée en marbre ornementée dans votre salon, ainsi que des moulures en plâtre élaborées et des parquets en bois chaleureux. Cela donne une touche européenne à la pièce et augmente la valeur potentielle de la propriété sur le marché immobilier. Associez la cheminée en marbre à un vase en porcelaine avec vos fleurs préférées pour une touche romantique.