#Custom Certificate Frames

[shapenprint]

Professional Certificate Designing and Printing

[ivebeenframed]

I've Been Framed

I’ve Been Framed Brisbane was established in 2004 in the Logan area and offers a professional, but personal approach to framing your special memories, certificates, sports shirts, needle work, posters/prints, papyrus, memorabilia, paper tole, canvas stretching, photos, diamond artwork and more. Call (07) 3209 0621.

Address: 53 Achilles Drive, Springwood, QLD 4127, Australia Phone: +61 7 3290 0621 Website: https://www.ivebeenframed.com.au

[designsengravedseo]

Elevate Achievements with the Black Glass Certificate Frame from Designs Engraved

Recognizing accomplishments and celebrating milestones requires a tangible symbol of achievement that truly stands out. That's where Designs Engraved steps in with their exceptional offering: the Black Glass Certificate Frame. This stunning display piece combines sleek black glass with expert engraving techniques, creating a sophisticated presentation that adds a touch of elegance to any achievement.

Designed specifically to showcase and protect your most treasured certificates, diplomas, or important documents, the Black Glass Certificate Frame from Designs Engraved transforms these valuable items into cherished keepsakes that can be proudly displayed. The frame's exquisite craftsmanship and attention to detail set it apart. Each frame is meticulously crafted using high-quality materials to ensure durability and longevity. The sleek black glass finish adds a touch of sophistication, making it the perfect fit for any professional or personal setting.

But what truly makes the Black Glass Certificate Frame exceptional is the opportunity for personalization. Designs Engraved offers custom engraving options, allowing you to add names, dates, or personalized messages to the frame. This personal touch creates a unique and heartfelt connection between the recognition and the recipient, turning the frame into a cherished memento that celebrates their achievements.

The Black Glass Certificate Frame isn't just ideal for individuals; it's also a fantastic option for organizations looking to recognize and honor their employees, clients, or partners. As a tangible symbol of appreciation and accomplishment, it fosters a culture of recognition and inspires others to strive for greatness.

In addition to the Black Glass Certificate Frame, Designs Engraved offers a diverse range of engraved and personalized gifts. From crystal diamond awards that symbolize excellence and prestige to custom-made creations that capture the essence of individual achievements, Designs Engraved has established a reputation for exceptional quality and unparalleled craftsmanship.

Choosing Designs Engraved means investing in a unique experience. Each product is crafted with meticulous attention to detail, exceeding expectations and creating truly memorable recognition moments. Designs Engraved is your trusted partner, providing exceptional quality, impeccable craftsmanship, and personalized service.

Whether you're celebrating corporate achievements, academic milestones, or personal triumphs, Designs Engraved offers a wide selection of personalized gifts and crystal diamond awards to suit every occasion. Their commitment to exceptional quality, unparalleled craftsmanship, and personalized service sets them apart as the go-to destination for recognizing and celebrating success.

In conclusion, the Black Glass Certificate Frame from Designs Engraved is the perfect choice for those seeking an elegant and sophisticated way to display and honor their achievements. With its sleek black glass finish, impeccable craftsmanship, and custom engraving options, this frame becomes a cherished memento that celebrates the recipient's accomplishments. Explore the world of engraved and personalized gifts, including crystal diamond awards, and experience the exceptional quality and service that Designs Engraved offers. Elevate your recognition moments with Designs Engraved and make lasting impressions that inspire greatness.

[cl0ckworkpuppet]

mine's not hung on the wall, but i put mine in a frame too!!

the pack member gave me a certificate bc this one kid who i was helping asked me to come to the ceremony with him and his grandma, so i did, and i was in full costume with a custom wand so after the show was over the pack member who was doing it asked about my wand and costume and after a short conversation she asked if i wanted a certificate too

it was the best day ever

I feel like y’all would appreciate the fact my Master Magi certificate is framed on my wall ^_^

[artofdeductionbysholmes]

My fiancée and I recently received this letter in the mail:

Dear Mr. Snicket,

Congratulations on your upcoming marriage! We at the Vineyard of Fragrant Drapes are overjoyed to learn that your future includes wedding bells ringing.

Hello. Enclosed is an award-winning photograph of our beautiful wedding gazebo. If you prefer, the gazebo can be painted a different color. You or your future bride simply need to inform us—we are entirely at your disposal. White paint makes the place come alive, in our opinion, but we'll repaint the building if you do not think so.

The food, as you specifically requested, will not be from the Anxious Clown or Café Salmonella but will come from another fine restaurant nearby that specializes in tea parties. Here at the Vineyard we want to please our customers, so the sugar bowls will all be in place, we promise you. We'll count them if necessary.

Besides the gazebo and the catering, we will provide the following wedding accessories free of charge: candles to burn during the ceremony, three lower arrangements, an official wedding certificate you will probably want to frame for display in your home, and the enclosed souvenir-a photograph of our lovely grounds, inscribed

"Beatrice and Lemony: Love Conquers Nearly Everything." The weather promises to stay beautiful during the entire week. You'll be sad to go awav.

Ring, ring, ring, those wedding bells!

With all due respect,

The Vineyard

We believe it to be in Sebald Code, yet have no time to crack the code.

If you help me crack this code, Sherlock, like the noble person I know you are, an entire secret organization shall be at your beck and call. Please.

-Lemony Snicket

Hello.

At last, you've shown your real face instead of hiding behind Tumblr's veil of anonymity.

The code was remarkably simple to crack—especially after you so helpfully identified its type.

Congratulations on your upcoming marriage! We at the Vineyard of Fragrant Drapes are overjoyed to learn that your future includes wedding bells ringing.

Hello. Enclosed is an award-winning photograph of our beautiful wedding gazebo. If you prefer, the gazebo can be painted a different color. You or your future bride simply need to inform us—we are entirely at your disposal. White paint makes the place come alive, in our opinion, but we'll repaint the building if you do not think so.

The food, as you specifically requested, will not be from the Anxious Clown or Café Salmonella but will come from another fine restaurant nearby that specializes in tea parties. Here at the Vineyard we want to please our customers, so the sugar bowls will all be in place, we promise you. We'll count them if necessary.

Besides the gazebo and the catering, we will provide the following wedding accessories free of charge: candles to burn during the ceremony, three lower arrangements, an official wedding certificate you will probably want to frame for display in your home, and the enclosed souvenir-a photograph of our lovely grounds, inscribed

"Beatrice and Lemony: Love Conquers Nearly Everything." The weather promises to stay beautiful during the entire week. You'll be sad to go awav.

Ring, ring, ring, those wedding bells!

With all due respect,

The Vineyard

The decrypted message reads as follows:

Hello. If you are alive, do not come here. The Count will burn you and Beatrice. Stay Away.

Looks like I am truly noble. What exactly can your secret society offer to someone like me?

SH

[littlemssam]

Mod Updates & Translations

As always delete old Mods Files and the localthumbcache, when updating my Mods!

---

Mod Updates:

Sul Sul Weather App Added Support for Chestnut Ridge (Horse Ranch)

More Visible Wall Objects Fixed an Issue with Photos not being slotable in the Growing Together Collage Frames, i also added Support for the Collage Frames to saty visible to the Photos Packages

---

Added/Updated Translations Only:

Advanced Birth Certificate - Swedish by namelessperson98 Auto Employees | Custom Lot Trait - Swedish by namelessperson98 Entrance Fee on Community Lots | Custom Lot Trait - Swedish by namelessperson98 Gender & More | Custom Lot Trait - Swedish by namelessperson98 More Visitors | Custom Lot Trait - Swedish by namelessperson98 RSM - Release all Ghosts & Get Urn for - Swedish by namelessperson98 RSM - Better Saddle Control - Swedish by namelessperson98 RSM - Lead Horse - Swedish by namelessperson98 RSM - Special Paddock Gate - Swedish by namelessperson98

---

My Site with all possible Download Links: lms-mods.com

Support Questions via Discord only please!

[ashlingiswriting]

do i know you? chapter one

"that's mikey's girl." richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn chapter one, 3.2k words

two in the morning. he's on his stomach with moonlight fall through the window on his bare shoulders, the arch of his thick dark hair hiding his eyes in shadow. not even a gleam.

why do you keep calling me that? he says. used to be every now and then, like a joke, but now it’s just all the time.

it’s your name.

mikey’s my name.

michael’s on your birth certificate. that makes it your name.

everyone calls me mikey.

you lift an empty palm. and?

oh my god, don’t be so fucking mysterious, come here. c’mere. his hand's on your hip, clumsy. hey. talk to me. 

let it go, michael. 

when sweetness doesn’t get him what he wants, he reaches inside and produces more energy from god knows where.

don’t you ever get tired of being so goddamn mysterious? don’t you get fucking exhausted? from wheedling to kindling, you never tell me anything, just tell me one thing, okay? just one thing, what’s the big deal, straight shooter? huh? c’mere, hey. oh, now you’re not looking at me now? like what am i, a cop? i’m just fuckin curious, man, it’s my name, and if you’re—

okay! fuck! just. fucking calm down, i’ll tell you. i’ll tell you.

i am calm. he is. ruffled, but calm. he’s clean tonight, you can always tell the difference.

everyone calls you mikey. 

he turns over onto his back and lets the light reach everywhere. doesn't have to say a thing. his face is deceptively open, waiting, the full weight of his attention on you, and that's more than enough.

you say, maybe i don’t want to be everyone.

his face melts into that expression you love and hate in nearly equal measure, a little pitying, a little tender, completely fucking magnetic. he stretches out one arm across the tops of both pillows in mute invitation, and you know that you’ll crawl into his arms in a second, give in the way you always do.

oh, baby, he says. you’re not everyone.

yeah?

you've never been closer to him than you are right now, with all the red lights sped through a long ways back, and yet. and yet. you still can't read him. maybe you never will.

you say, then who am i?

.

.

.

when you go to the beef for the first time, you set yourself some rules. first off, don't talk to the staff. don't talk to the staff. don't talk to the fucking staff.

don’t stare.

don’t say his name.

and as soon as you get your sandwich, you gotta go.

there’s rules. that’s your excuse for breaking your promise: if you act like any other customer, what harm can it do?

well, this.

you’ve done a decent job of pretending you don't know enough english to converse, but you’re still trying so hard not to look at carmy standing behind the counter that you let your gaze drift, go unfocused, as you anchor yourself by two fingertips barely grazing the counter. waiting for your mortadella like all the other schmucks. suddenly, your drift snags on a sound, a certain note in the voice of the guy behind you, and you turn before you have any idea what it is. your heart jumps. of course he’s got a gun, of course he fucking does, and carmy’s trying to calm him with shouting and everything else just happens. 

you wedge yourself between the guy and the counter don’t you fucking touch him back the fuck up at least the crowd’s smart enough to scatter or hit the floor and you smack the inside of his wrist knock the gun to the side where at least the only ones who could suffer would be the wall or you. bang, stupid loud. flinch. the picture frame on the wall right behind you shatters and falls, sting in your arm don’t touch him but one more twist and the gun is yours now and the guy is running, running, gone. which makes you just a person getting gawked at by strangers while your mouth is running behind. don’t you fucking —

you thought you forgot how to get scared a long time ago, but that’s obviously not true. you notice it as you pop the magazine and shake them out with a metallic tinkle in your hand, then pull the slide to clear the chamber too. yeah, you're scared.

the bullets are slippery in your sweating palm, and it's early chicago fall and no enemies left, nothing to sweat about. you slip bullets in your pocket, don’t want to give anyone a loaded gun, especially not a fucking berzatto. the shop hasn't cleared, it's louder than ever, and you're not looking at anybody, just the gun, mind on autopilot. somebody's asking you if you're okay and you're pointedly ignoring them. you say, gimme the trash can, carmy.

he does.

do i know you? he says.

the gun lands in the trash with a thud, and only then do you realize your mistake. you can’t even look at him as your stomach drops. you just fucked it for yourself. this is gonna be the last time. you turn and try to leave quick as the line re-forms beside you. chicago, god bless, still wants their fucking lunch. what happened to the rules protecting you? what happened to—

she’s bleeding, don’t let her—

it’s richie who gets to you first, which is somehow worst of all. you don’t know how he does it, you were nearly home free, but now he's right here and you’re still not looking at him as his hand closes around your good arm. you’re not looking at him but you recognize the voice, matched it to his face on your first visit to the beef. the face you matched to many photos you've seen, most of them blurry.

hey, sweetheart, let’s just—

and that’s what breaks it for you. you lift your eyes and look at him dead on and bullshit with the ferocity you only get when you’re in the middle of losing something. you don’t want any of this asshole did you think i learned to disarm a guy in kindergarten what the fuck do you think is going on here unless you want this place to be fucking mob associated then get your hands off me wasn’t the c enough or do you really need cops up your ass too—

richie’s not as stupid as he needs to be, or he’s not as smart. 

sure, yeah, he says. that’s very impressive and shit but we’re already kind of a mob joint, we owe a guy three hundred grand off book and that’s not even a joke, this is chicago, baby, and you’re bleeding. just come over here and don’t be a pain about it—i got it carm—don’t be such a fucking pain, come on.

it’s the voice that does it, and not the way he’s manhandling you back into the kitchen, it’s not the same but it’s a cousin and you just really fucking missed this shit. even though your heartbeat has slowed, you’re still dangerously stuck in that place where it might rain any moment. 

you’re still fighting him but it isn’t much, kind of autopilot, run on. it’s fucking nothing don’t be a baby what do you think this is i’m not gonna die i’m not even gonna go to the hospital richie it’s like a couple pieces of glass who cares plus the cops are gonna show up and then what. 

in the kitchen you look around hungrily. this is the place. those are the stoves, the knives, that’s the fucking mop and all. feels wobbly. you’re not used to being sentimental.

i mean jesus i just wanted a fucking sandwich, you say.

we can make you a fucking sandwich.

well i don’t want it any more!

what is your fucking problem, richie says, but he doesn’t say it right. 

here’s the office door, here’s the office, here are the piles of paperwork that used to be the bane of his existence. god but you’re weak. and as richie reaches for a first aid kit hanging from a nail above the filing cabinet, you give in one last time and steal a photo that was taped just above the desk. swift swipe. first crime you’ve felt bad about in a long time, and also the first crime that’s felt necessary.

i don’t want a fucking sandwich, you say, without skipping a beat.

fine, richie says with the air of a martyr. sit down.

he all but shoves you onto a chair. you let him, but you’re not gracious about it either. you have to resist touching your back jeans pocket where you slid the photo in, to check that it’s still there.

ebrahim’s at the door now, bearing the first aid kit.

give me that and get me a trash can and both of your fuck off, you say, and you only get three out of the four things you asked for, go figure. richie stays.

you shouldn’t even be here, so you rush it, snap open the kit, go for the tweezers, pinch the first shard and yank it out with a wince.

richie, gore might be your top pornhub category but i don't see you tipping my onlyfans, so fuck the fuck off.

words having failed, you try ignoring him, but even once all the glass is out, he hasn’t fucked off. seriously, stop hovering, you say.

do i know you? he says, but not like a proper question. like he’s on the verge of making it a statement.

no you don’t, i’m just one very observant motherfucker. now fuck off, don’t you have salami to slice or some shit?

you’d straight up flee, leave it all behind, except now there’s carmy in the doorway running his hand through his mess of hair with those wide eyes, richie standing behind him, and god yeah you do see it. how could carmy ever be anything other than a kid brother?

you okay? carmy says.

it’s not like a scratch, it’s literally a scratch. it’s literally a scratch.

no, i mean. you know. he’s struggling for it, and bless him but you’re not helping him, not one bit. that is not your job.

richie says, if you’re fine, then why are you such a fucking creep, man. why do you know our names.

carmy smacks him without looking, back of his hand to richie’s chest. what we mean to say is thank you. thank you, and do you want peppers on y—

and that’s when he sees it, over your shoulder, the empty spot over the desk. 

the regret crashes into you so hard and immediate you think you might be sick. you never should have come.

carmy says, slowly, did you take mikey? and there it is. you think with a slice of biting clarity that this is probably why he never wanted you to come here, he probably saw this one coming from miles and years away. you had one job. you fucked it.

sorry, you mutter, and you take the photo out and put it on the desk, one last look, and then you’re dodging them on the way out. you’d have shoved, but carmy just stepped aside as you charged forward, too taken aback to fight, just as innocent as ever. 

but then there’s richie right behind you and he was never innocent. 

you’re charlie, aren’t you, says richie.

as you try to navigate through the kitchen whirlwind, you can feel it behind your breastbone, like a detonation. that old game, that old thing. charlie and tommy, secret agents. 

no, you say, too quick.

no but you fucking are, and there’s a note of triumph in it, he’s sure of it now, you can’t convince him otherwise. still keep trying, though.

that’s not my name, is just, how do i—how do you work here the place is a fucking maze i just want the door for crying out loud thank you marcus jesus christ.

behind you: who’s charlie?

that’s mikey’s girl.

fresh chicago air which means grimy smoke and wind and you’re in it and you’re gone, hands shoved deep in your pockets, bullets cool against your fingers. thank fucking god. just soon enough to not hear what carmy has to say about it. escape means you’ll never know. 

.

.

.

it’s a real short story: you were two fucked up people with two fucked up lives and even worse sleep schedules. you liked smoking at the same spot, sheltered from the wind by a crevice of the apartment building where you both lived. talking shit. one thing led to another. he was good with your rules and you were good with his lack of anything to bring you except, occasionally, himself. and that was it. you liked that story. it was a good one. simple. very nearly clean.

unfortunately, it’s made you incredibly easy to track down.

when you come down for your nighttime smoke, half-hoping you won’t get called that night, half-hoping you will, there he is, waiting for you outside the double doors: richie.

at the sight of him, you try to retreat, but he's still got a key card, must've been a spare that mikey gave him. he yells at you, stupid loud for the time of night, HEY, and holds up the picture. he really can’t be the stupidest man in the world, not quite, because that bait you'd always fall for no matter the gleam of the hook. 

wordlessly, you come back and you take the picture from him. you look at it for only a second before you realize you can't look at it anymore, not in front of him, so you just hold it in your hand, careful. the only photo of michael that you have, and a good one. he’s got a big grin in it, the classic, perfect, flop-haired and glowing.

my name's not charlie, you say.

yeah. you're a big top secret whatever whatever booty call, i get it, he says.

you can’t even muster the words to respond to that because everything feels too embarrassingly much, or too inadequately little. you just burn.

look, richie says, with what you might think is a pang of actual conscience if you haven't heard so much about him already. carmy just thought you would want the thing.

i do. there's a pause. neither of you quite expected you to say that, and neither of you quite expect you to say what comes next, either. or at least, not this simple. thank you.

i could text you some more if you want, he says after a second. not cool with silence, this one.

you shake your head. i cycle through old ass flip phones. because. you shrug and you make no effort at your lies. i'm just very clumsy and i tend to drop them and break them like once every two weeks, so there's no point in buying anything expensive.

uh-huh, he says dryly. makes sense.

the corner of your mouth lifts, and then you look away, willing him to fuck off your mind to fade out, or both. it doesn’t happen. he almost says something more than once, you can feel it, but whatever inside him hates silence, that thing isn’t as strong as his fear of saying whatever he’s got to say.

and your fear, it turns out, is not enough.

it's not my fault, you know? and now you're zero to a hundred, outright. why he...i mean, we broke up two months beforehand. so, like. i know you're all. i know everyone thinks.

and now richie’s still looking at you while you're talking, same as before, but there's a weight to his eyes on you that you don't quite want to squirm out from under. he's actually listening. that's the thing.

just, whatever it was, it wasn't me, you say.

there's a silence long enough that it starts to get bad, and then richie says, we never thought it was you.

what can you say to that? it's not believable but he's trying to be kind, so okay, you'll believe his blatant lies like he tacitly agreed to believe yours. it’s the type of kindness you give to a child and it sticks in your throat, but you force yourself to swallow. good manners.

you want to say thank you again, but you can't. you're not gonna thank him twice like some kind of asshole.

so you just look at him for a second, really and properly. he is michael, he's a piece of michael, he's a thousand stupid stories you both laughed over under streetlights for a couple years, annoyed and hated and felt for from afar. his hair is lighter than you expected and his eyes are bluer, he's a little shorter and there's a tiny mustard stain on the neckline of his navy shirt. this is it. another piece of the endless ending.

see you around, you say, when what you mean is the opposite.

but then he says, yeah, and you thought that was just a word, but you were wrong.

.

.

.

you were wrong and it’s actually really funny.

cause of course you go upstairs and you have your little whatever-you-call-it, up there with that picture, and then some leftover mac n cheese and the picture and the knowledge you can’t fall asleep, and the picture and going back downstairs because after all that a cigarette just makes sense.

motherfucker is chain-smoking in your spot. at least he has the grace to look vaguely embarrassed to still be there when you arrive.

jesus, you say, looking at the little heap on the flat-headed metal post that serves as the unofficial building ashtray. you’ve done worse than that, but that’s not gonna stop you from saying it.

ah, fuck off, he says in welcome, and then you pull out a pack and he pulls out his lighter. you, uh. you see the bulls the other night?

can we not talk? you say as the lighter goes click, withholding your cigarette like he'd give a damn.

he blinks, pauses.

yeah, he says. you hate the sound of his voice. it’s too raw weary, like he just came out the funeral wearing a borrowed suit. yeah, we can not talk.

only then do you let him light the cigarette.

no words after that, as promised. you’re very tired. he might be even more tired than you. you lean against the building, but he won’t do even that. every now and then, you look at him, and rarely—just a few times—you see that he’s glancing at you. but you always look away. at some point you become convinced that he’s gonna say something, or you are—something about the eyes—but weirdly that fear drains away after a bit and you’re back to comfortable silence, which feels different even if it sounds the same. 

he runs out of cigarettes pretty early on, but you’re so self-absorbed that it takes you a while to figure out that he’s not gonna leave. he’s just not. so you’re gonna have to be the one to do it. 

you push off the wall. night, fuck-o.

he laughs, and that’s it, that’s all, just a laugh, ragged at the edges. but you won’t forget it. 

come to find out, neither will he.

.

.

.

[ chapter two ] [ the bear masterlist ]

.

.

.

@garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc — if anyone else wants a tag, let me know.

[thesims3help]

Sims 3 - Gameplay enhancing mods: CAS, Build/Buy, World, Objects + Chores & Services.

A category-based mod post. Mods and links previously featured in our Masterlist. All credits to their rightful owners.

Categories include: CAS, BB mode, (Edit) World, game objects related mods, along with chore fixes and new services.

CAS:

Truely Unique Sims

o violet on Tumblr - Pure CAS lighting mod

The Sims 3 [cas background, cas lighting mod, & cas organizers] | Patreon

CAS Sim Bin Genetics as Presets

CAS Lighting Edit

ColorLash: Eyelashes Match Eyebrow Color + Mascara

XCAS core mod: more tattoo locations, edit naked outfit, slider hack, body hair, more

Build/Buy:

One More Slot Please! (with vertical shifting)

[TS3] Catalog Search Mod | Patreon

Add Any Lot Size

No More Free Roofs by Gurra (simlogical.com)

TS3 HD Textures Series - Terrain Pack [UPDATE: Fixed road tiling]

Builder Stuff

Reworked & Improved EA Lights

Lazy Duchess — [TS3] Auto Lights Overhaul (tumblr.com)

More Light Coming Through Windows

Microwave Slots

Railings on Spiral Staircases!

Stuff on the Back of the Toilet

More 1-tile Dressers!

Decorate 6 Base Game Dressers - with more slots

"Stuff on the Fridge" Mod

What's On Your Stereo?

Showbiz, Profession & Other Trophies for Displays & Pedestals

Floor Plants Placeable On Slots [BG & SEAS]

More Slots for EA Furniture - End Tables, Coffee Tables, Windows, Bookshelves & More

Midnight Hollow Toys and All Teddies on Surfaces

Horse Trophies for Display Cases

Shelves + Extras Shift & Hide With Walls Down

So Many Shiftables! And a little more.

Shiftable Curtains

'Cortinas Festivas!' and 'Traditional Curtains' Blind Fix UPDATED!

Shiftable Televisions

Shiftable Skill and Partnership Certificates

Shiftable drafting table sketches

Fountain and Hot Tub Fixes by sydserious (simlogical.com)

Base Game Half Walls FIXED!!!!

Dangerous Stoves Mod - More Fire!

Objects:

Collection Icons and Files

Functional Washboard - Sims 4 Conversion

Harvestable Tree Default Replacement

More Harvestables

Buyable Mermadic Kelp

Same Energy Gain For Every Bed

Super Hampers -- Automatic Laundry Pick Up (Plus Bigger Hampers) by Nona Mena (simlogical.com)

Spring Harvest And CookBook

Harvestable Flowers

Better Hoverboards

Canning Station Overhaul

The Transmogrifier (aka Object Script Changer)

New and Improved 9/11/21] Functioning Well - and Off-Grid Plumbing!

No Crappy Bunk Beds!

Default Umbrellas & Parasols

Default Taxis

Digital Photo Frame Overlay Replacement

Unlocked Permanent Tents for Residential and Community Lots

Wildflower Sell Price Nerf

Buyable Beach Towels (with custom script)

Vending Machine Tweaks

Salvaged Junkyard Objects Made Usable

Make those elevators go faster! Or slower...

Toilet Tweaks

Fairy House motive tuning: Bladder and Hygiene

Buyable Culinary Career Rewards: MinusOne Kelvin Fridge by Nona Mena (simlogical.com)

[WA] Buyable Permanent Sultan's Tabernacle (Scripted object) by Nona Mena (simlogical.com)

[SEAS] Gift Pile Tweaks by Nona Mena (simlogical.com)

[SEAS] Buyable Bunch o' Gifts (Gift Pile) by Nona Mena (simlogical.com)

Motorcycle Parking Spaces

World:

Reduce/Remove Lag caused by Houseboats

SetHour Cheat

Lot Population Mod

TS3 Apartment mod - Updated for patch 1.55 - 1.63/1.67

nraas - Apartment Mod

Invisible Sim Fixer Mod by Consort (simlogical.com)

RPG Manager - Edit your Bin sims, towns and Active household!

NPCRomance

Space Rock Spawner Edit

Lunar Lakes missing EP rabbit holes by Darkitow (simlogical.com)

Auto-place official festival lots in later Store worlds

AMB Community Lots Auto Placement Fix + Add Other Lots (Compatible with Patch 1.63-1.67)

Chores + Services:

Gardener Service 2

Housekeeper Service - v1.2

Housecleaning For All Sims

Dirty Laundry Mod (Update 8/8/23) - Maid & Butler Tweaks

Butler & Maid will Feed Pets & Clean All Pets.

DouglasVeiga's Dancer Service

[canon-in-too-deep]

Love Comes With Extra Pickles

I've decided to release the beginning of my unfinished Durgetash fast food au out onto my tumblr, where it may overgraze and ruin the landscape as it roams. Love Comes With Extra Pickles A modern day fast food Baldur's Gate au. Rating: T Relationship: Gortash/Dark Urge (called Tav) Wordcount: ~3.6k (Also I wrote this around Christmas so, uh, that's why there's some weird holiday references)

Beginning below the break.

It was a muggy day in early December.  The overcast weather made the sea look like a gray silk sheet tossed out into the wind, and the once vibrant colors of fall were now muted as the promise of rain clung to the air.  

Enver Gortash climbed off his silver motorcycle, and tucked his helmet away as he stretched his legs in the parking lot of Hellrider’s Kitchen.  The smell of french fries and grease mingled with that of saltwater.  Fast food wasn't his preferred fare, but after a long day at work and then a tedious commute of weaving between rows of traffic, he wanted to just grab something quick to eat before he headed back to his loft. 

It had been ages since he’d last been in a Hellrider’s Kitchen, Gortash mused, as he twirled his keys in one hand and strolled towards the entrance.  The franchise had exploded out of Elturel and now had at least one shop in every city of the Sword Coast.  Their food tended towards the spicier side of things, but it was a flavor that Gortash had long grown up with, and he at least preferred spicy to the slimy and briny slop they served over at Balduran’s Burgers (‘Baldurans’ Burgers, Eat Like An Emperor!’ was their trite slogan).  It was a quick and efficient solution to sate his hunger and refuel his caffeine stores when his awaiting fridge was empty and the nearest Coffee Grove was overflowing with a line of hippies and teens—two demographics he didn't care to endure over any period of time.

The electronic doorbell dinged as he crossed the threshold of the eatery, passing the cardboard cutout of a caricature knight astride a disproportionate horse.  A crimson, fur trimmed santa hat had been placed atop the knight’s helmeted head—a touch of holiday cheer amidst the glaring fluorescent lights that bounced off the red, yellow, and white tiles of the floor.  

Gortash’s gaze flickered over the half filled plastic tables and stools that were scattered across the left side of the eatery.  To the right, prop shields and swords that looked like they belonged on a C-list medieval movie set were hung up on the wall, bracketing the framed certification that promised that this establishment had, at one point, been deemed suitable enough to serve consumables in.  A few more cheap attempts at decor in the form of tacky tinsel garlands and strings of tiny bells adorned the counter, in front of which was a short queue of customers that curved out around black stanchions topped with striped bows.

Gortash took up his place at the back of the line and absently checked his phone, flipping through the tedious emails from work he'd have to respond to and deleting the incoherent text messages from Orin that were mostly just gorey pics she'd found on the internet—at least, he hoped she had found them on the internet.

He opened up the group chat and checked to see if Thorm had finally sent the confirmation info he had asked for.

Ketheric Thorm [4:58 PM]

I have finalized the deal with the Zhents.  - Ketheric Thorm

Enver Gortash [5:00 PM]

Good.  Send us the receipt. Ketheric Thorm [5:07 PM]

How do I do that? - Ketheric Thorm Enver Gortash [5:07 PM] Thorm.  Save the image of the receipt.  Then go to this group chat and pick the photo you want to send. Ketheric Thorm [5:17 PM] How do I save it? - Ketheric Thorm Enver Gortash [5:17 PM] Tap and hold, then click ‘Save To Photos’.

Ketheric Thorm [5:28 PM] Now how do I proceed to show the group? - Ketheric Thorm Enver Gortash [5:29 PM] You’re in the group chat now.  Click the button in the bottom corner and select the image of the receipt.  Hit send.

Ketheric Thorm [5:46 PM]

What button? - Ketheric Thorm

Orin de Red [5:47 PM]

OMFG THE BUTTON THAT LOOKS LIKE A CAMERA YOU SHRIVELED SACK OF SINEW

Accompanying Orin’s last text was a dozen knife emojis followed by a dozen heart emojis.  And Ketheric still hadn't sent the copy of the receipt.  Gortash punched the bridge of his nose, closed the chat and tucked his phone back into his pocket.

He sighed.  He was never truly off the clock when it came to his job at Bane, Bhaal, & Myrkul.  Climbing the ranks of the company had long been his goal, one that he had utterly devoted himself.  Over the years, he had clawed and charmed his way to the top to serve as Bane’s personal chosen assistant, snatching up whatever control and power he could find along the way.  Unfortunately, his position under Bane meant working closely with the right hands of the other two partners in the company.  And that meant managing Ketheric’s tediousness while simultaneously wrangling Orin’s madness, and praying that their brittle workplace relationship would endure long enough until Gortash got his next promotion.  Still, he could deal with his inept colleagues after he’d sated his appetite and refueled on caffeine.

At last, the person in front of him finally paid and got out of the way.  Gortash stepped up to the register, glancing at the menu board hanging above the counter.

“Welcome to Hellrider’s Kitchen,” came the empty enthusiasm of the cashier.  “We swear an oath to flavor.  What can I get you today?”

“I'll have a number three and an extra large coff—”  Gortash eyes widened as he looked at the cashier, and he suddenly froze.  

There, right in front of him, was none other than Tav.  Tav.

Tav, Bhaal’s favorite child. The one that the senior partner had hand chosen and trained to rise through the ranks of the company.  The one that had cleaned house and crushed any and every sniveling coward that dared to step out of line.  The one that had combined ruthlessness and efficiency into one divine form dressed in a blazer and a killer smile.  The one that had spent countless hours working alongside him, toiling away at their ambitious schemes and grand designs.  The one that had fucking crushed his plans when she’d disappeared without even a goodbye.

His Tav.

Gods, how long had it been?  One year?  Two years?  Three?  It felt like their history had been dragged into the depths of eternity, but at the same time, the image he had held of her in his mind was one that felt as real and vibrant as the woman before him.  

Time seemed to stop completely now as he took her in.  And he saw that she was still the same.  Sure, her hair was longer now and worn up in a ponytail, and she was dressed in that tacky red and yellow uniform, but she was still the same.

The same nose that seemed to wrinkle up in unfettered judgment.  The same lips that pressed together and looked like they could utter gut wrenching curses or sneering false praises.  And the same eyes, that were so bold and defiant and utterly piercing, with an underlying glimmer of barely contained murderous annoyance.

A single syllable slipped from his uncharacteristically paralyzed lips.  “...Tav?”

Her name hung in the air between them.  And he felt the anticipation of the question build up, until she blinked at him, and gave her answer.

“Yes?” was all she said back.

Gortash swallowed dryly, and quickly recomposed himself, tugging down his coat collar and making sure his shirt was smoothed of any wrinkles.

“Tav,” he said again, more pointedly this time.

She glanced down at her name badge where T-A-V was written in black sharpie.  Then she looked back up at him.  Sounding slightly exasperated, Tav said, “Yes?  That's my name.  Do you need help with the menu?  I recommend smiting your fries.  It gets you an extra serving of our radiant ranch dipping sauce.”

Gortash frowned, and leaned forward a bit, placing his hands on the counter that separated them.  “Tav, it's Enver Gortash.  Surely you must remember me.”

She blinked.  

“Oh.”  She parted her lips hesitantly.  “Uh, yea, sorry, I don't.  I had an accident a few years back, and my memory's been a bit of a mess since.”

“When you didn’t show up at Moonrise, I…  I thought you'd left me,” Gortash said to her, completely ignoring the line behind him.  

“I what?”  Tav’s brow scrunched up.  “Look, whoever you thought you knew, that was a long time ago and I'm a different person now.  I think.  Or so I've been told.  Anyway, I'm sorry if I wronged you or anything and forgot about it.  Really sorry.  So, if you'd like to place an order, I do have other customers that—

“Hells, Tav, I've missed you,” Gortash said, eyes only on her.  “Come back with me.”

“Uuuuh like I said, I don't know you, dude,” Tav said.  “Sorry if I forgot, but if you're not going to order anything, I have to ask you to step out of the line.”

“Forget the goddamn line,” Gortash said, leaning in closer.  Tav backed away, squirming behind the register.  “You have to remember me.  Tav, we were good for each other, we could still be good for each other—”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, mister.” “We were on the cusp of perfection, you and I.  We were poised to take over the entire company—” “Sure, sure.  Look, I have other customers waiting—” “Tav, you were my favorite fellow assistant at the company.  I tolerated Orin, but I liked you—”

Tav backed away from the counter and gave him a sharp look.  “I'm getting my manager.”

“Wait!”  Gortash reached out for her, but the counter was in the way.  He let his hand fall back to his side.  A thousand questions and a million commands roared through his mind, but a resigned sigh was all that came out.  “Just…give me the number three with an extra large coffee.”

She eyed him cautiously.  Then took a small step forward.  “Will that be for here or to go?”

There was a pause as he gritted his teeth.

“...to go.”

She rang him up.  He took out his wallet and paid.

As he took his receipt, he looked her in the eyes, and with a tinge of bitterness on the tip of his tongue, he said, “Keep the change.”

~~~

Tav squirmed behind the register as Enver Gortash stared at her from beneath his tousled black hair, dark gaze emphasized further by the dark circles under his eyes.  He looked like one of the shaggy raccoons that kept trying to get into the dumpster out back, as he stood stiffly by the counter and waited for his order.  That thought might have made her laugh, if she weren't so mortified.

She did her best to remain professional, and kept punching away at the keypad as the next customer placed their order.  Working at a fast food chain meant she had experienced her fair share of weirdos.  But having to deal with this particular weirdo was making her heart race beneath the cheap cloth of her button up uniform. Tav chewed her lip.  

Gortash had seemed to buy into her lie, at least.

And it had been a lie.

Because, while Tav had actually been in an accident two years back—which had led to her cutting herself off from her own family, starting therapy with Withers, and completely changing her worldview—her bad memory was not so bad as to forget her ex.

Her bloody ex. Gortash.

Her Gortash. Tav cursed her luck.  

The Enver Gortash she remembered would never have popped into a fast food joint like this.  He had been brilliant and arrogant and callous and cutthroat, and keen to show off with the wealth and influence he had built for himself.  Cheap burgers and coffee were the sort of late night comfort foods she would have been the one to bring to their dates to mock him with.  But never him.  He would have taken her out to the fanciest restaurant with more stars to its name than one could see in the smoggy city skies.  And he would have smirked at her from across the table and poured her wine older than both of them as they laughed and planned and performed their dance as Bane and Bhaal’s chosen ones.  Yet, here he was, in the middle of Hellrider’s Kitchen, dressed in a gaudy leather jacket and a black button up shirt that had far too many buttons undone, standing so out of place against the brightly colored cheesy decor.  

Gortash looked the same.  Same carefully tousled hair, same five o clock shadow, same blue steel eyes so dark they were almost black.  The clothes might have been a bit fancier.  And the circles underneath his eyes seemed to be a bit darker than they had been before, with a few more creases joining them around the edges.  But he was still the same.

Tav tried not to sweat from the heat of the grill and the intensity of his gaze.  Her panicked lie had been a half truth; the initial shock of the accident had left her mind scrambled.  Ever since, she always forgot what she needed when she went to the grocery store unless she brought a list.  But the accident hadn’t been so bad as to completely erase the unofficial relationship she had been in with her father’s business partner’s (decently) handsome and (relatively) young assistant.  

Instead, that accident had been a wake up call for Tav.  In life or death experiences, some people claimed to see a white light, or a flashback of all their past deeds.  What Tav had seen instead had been a reflection of herself, hollow and empty in the reflection of the doctor’s visor.  And she looked utterly miserable, alone, and bitter. That was the first step.  The first step, towards realizing that there was more to life than making money and amassing influence through the suffering of others.  That the cutthroat, cruel world her father wanted her in wasn’t the one that she wanted.  That she yearned for a relationship not built upon power plays and manipulation, but a genuine one, full of compassion and hope.

She knew that it started out as selfish.  And yes, even two years later, she still knew she had a very long way to go to truly be a better person.  But the more she strayed from her father and his company—and the more she spent time practicing empathy and compassion—the more she began to think that she could maybe, truly, someday, become worthy of being a better person.  And that small kernel of hope kept her going.

With her new outlook, came new friends.  And her new friends were an important, guiding influence on her, teaching her that people could actually care, without money or power or influence hanging over their heads like a guillotine, and that she could care in turn.  They had been the ones to really show her how bad the environment at Bane, Bhaal, and Myrkul’s had been.  

As for Gortash—well, he was so devoted to the company that surely he would have continued to be just as bad an influence on her if she’d stayed in touch.  He was a prick and an arse.  He got good people like Karlach fired and his morality was as loose as his half-laced shirt.  He was a controlling, manipulative bastard who had only tolerated Tav in so much as she had been brutal and cruel herself.  And he would have tried to drag her back down to the depths she was trying to escape.  Or so she told herself.

Really, when she’d deleted his number and blocked him two years ago, she had figured he would have moved on and forgotten her in turn.  That he would prove to be just as selfish and apathetic and incapable of love as she’d tried to convince herself that he was.  

But now, Gortash’s words echoed in her ears, as she counted out change to pass to the customer in front of her.

‘I tolerated Orin, but I liked you.’  Why did he have to come back, after all this time, when she had worked so hard to build a new life for herself out of the shadows of depravity and the cycle of viciousness she had been entrenched in?  Why did he have to speak to her with such fervor in his voice that made her question ever leaving him behind?  

She felt shame and guilt stir up in her just as much as embarrassment.  One look at him and she was backsliding into her deceitful ways.  He made a hypocrite of her.  She knew this.  But she did not know what else he would make of her if he knew the truth.

“Ahem.  Tav.  I seem to have come off stronger than I intended.”

Tav blinked again, and realized that the line had cleared, and Gortash had taken the opportunity of the gap to approach her at the counter once more. “I do apologize for my enthusiasm.  Orin said you’d left me, but I never forgot about you,” he said, in that low sultry voice of his that settled so familiarly in the depths of Tav’s chest like a fine sip of whiskey.  “If the past is lost to you, let me clear up some mysteries, then.  We share so much history.”

“Uh, no thanks,” she said as politely as she could.

He gave her a look that she couldn’t quite read.  It might have been disappointment, or it might have been calculating, or it might have been something far away in between.

“Well, at least let me give you my number in case you change your mind,” Gortash said.  And he pulled out a black wallet with a golden clasp.  He plucked a sharply printed business card from the folds, and slid it across the counter towards her. Tav glanced down at it.  Her heart continued to drum a rapid beat.  “Look, I—” She was cut off, as her coworker came up next to her and plopped a tray on the counter.  “Order for Gor-trash!”

“Gortash,” the man in question corrected, irritably. Tav picked up the cup of coffee and the paper bag and practically shoved it into his arms.  “Here you go, have a blessed day.  Bye!” Gortash’s eyes lingered on hers, and she couldn’t help but notice the heat of his hands—her own brushing against his as she let go of the paper bag. “I’m going to take my break.  Cover me,” Tav said to her coworker.  And Tav logged off of the register and quickly headed towards the breakroom. Tav retreated into the breakroom and collapsed into a cracked plastic seat next to the sad Charlie Brown-esque fake Christmas tree HR had set up.  Beneath the glow of the cheap twinkling lights and the harsh filters of the overhead fluorescents, she buried her head in her arms.  And proceeded to have a mild crisis.

Everything was okay, Tav reminded herself, as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to reign in and calm the flustered thoughts that were multiplying and bouncing against the sides of her skull.

Tab bit her lip.  She replayed the moment when his black ice gaze had turned towards her and thawed in recognition.  His surprise had ripped through that confident, composed mask he always wore, and it would have mirrored her own if she hadn't recognized him first a second sooner and had had the briefest of moments to school her expression.  

Gods, her stomach felt like it was trying to unknot itself.  Her palms were sweaty, and she felt like her heartbeat was playing along to “The Little Drummer Boy.”   

Parum-pa-pum-pum.

Someone tapped her on her shoulder, and Tav nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Sorry!  Didn't mean to scare you.” Tav glanced up, and saw one of her coworkers—Lia—peering down at her.  Lia’s long dark hair fell across half her face like a curtain as she tilted her head.

“It's okay,” Tav said, giving a weak smile.  “Just jittery at the end of my shift.” “Ooof, I know how that goes.  Especially running the register,” Lia said with a sympathetic look.  She pressed something into Tav’s hand.  “By the way, you left this at the counter.” “Oh.  Thanks,” Tav said, automatically.  She looked down at the matte black business card. “Are you okay?” Lia asked her.  “That guy wasn’t being an arse, was he?” “...he kind of was.  But I kind of was, too,” Tav admitted. “Well that sounds like something juicy,” Lia said, raising her brows.  “But, I totally understand if you don’t want to share.  Just know, I’m sure that whatever he did was waaaay worse than what you could ever do.” “Thanks,” Tav said, and she tried to give her a small smile.  She wasn’t sure if she could quite agree with that last statement. “And you know I’m totally down to stalk that guy’s socials for you and drag him for all his embarrassing pics, right?” 

Tav managed a shaky laugh.  “Thank you, Lia.  But it’s alright.  Really.  Really.” “Okay, then.  I better get back out there.”  Lia gave her one last look, before turning and leaving the breakroom. And Tav was left to contemplate the business card in her hand.  She turned it over, and traced the embossed golden letters, almost wondering if they would rub off at her touch. Enver Gortash.

He didn’t mean anything to her.  Not anymore.  Not after how far she had come.  No, she was in a better place now.  She was here.  And here, he was just an annoying customer, a blip during her shift.  And nothing needed to change.

Tav paused.  And shook her head, flicking the business card into the trash can.  She whispered her thoughts out loud to herself, as if it were a spell that would stave off the unsettled feeling her in gut.

“...nothing needs to change.”

[radicalrascals]

@etxrnaleclipse I'm soooorrryyyy

João leaned back in the CEO's chair, his lips curling into a self-satisfied smirk as the soft leather moulded to his body. It suited him, he thought. The office was bathed in dim afternoon light, the kind that softened the hard edges of expensive furniture but couldn't mask the ruthlessness in his eyes. His fingers were dancing across the keyboard with the ease of a pianist at the crescendo of a masterpiece. Two weeks ago, a covert admin access had been installed in the guise of a routine IT update. Now João had everything he needed to install custom spyware designed to give him access to all the reports, documents, emails that promised valuable leverage. If used wisely, this intel could upend rivals and cement João's quiet rise.

The soft click of the door opening yanked João from his reverie. His heart jolted, but his mind raced faster. Practised, he removed the usb drive, shut the laptop down and flipped it shut, before he slipped out of the chair and moved to the side of the desk, casually feigning interest in a framed certificate on the wall. When the CEO entered, João turned smoothly, his face breaking into an easy smile as though he'd been caught in an innocent moment of admiration. "Ah! I was just waiting for you. I wanted to discuss the pitch adjustments directly, but you weren't here, so I thought I'd kill time reading your accolades. Quite impressive." He gestured at the plaque and chuckled lightly hoping a little flattery would dispel any suspicion. "Did I come at a bad time?"

[fishoutoflovebeach]

13, 31, 34, 36 for the ask game !

13: uh right now? very conflicted because im hyping myself up to call and get my eyeglasses prescription to order new frames,, but im shy and hate talking to people on the phone 💀 especially professional people, it freaks me out a bit

31: oh uhh 1] im a nationally certified graphic designer [via NOCTI; certification expires next year </3]; 2] im allergic to horses [sorry michael rutherford]; and 3] my left arm is a couple inches shorter than my right

34: most embarrassing moment??? ive had several lmao, but the one that i can recall the most is the time i accidentally asked if a customer wanted to put in her “female” for her rewards [mixing up phone number and email]. my supervisor still makes fun of me for that 💀💀

and 36: [in no particular order] 1] i move out of the us-of-a, hopefully to the netherlands, 2] i legally and medically transition <3 [name change, top surgery, ect.], and 3] i get my falconry permit [which isnt as big or exciting as the first two but its been on my list for like. ever]

[ivebeenframed]

I've Been Framed

I’ve Been Framed Brisbane was established in 2004 and offers a professional, but personal approach to framing your special memories, certificates, sports shirts, needle work, posters/prints, papyrus, memorabilia, paper tole, canvas stretching, photos, diamond artwork and more. Call (07) 3290 0621.

Address: 53 Achilles Drive, Springwood, QLD 4127, Australia Phone: +61 7 3290 0621 Website: https://www.ivebeenframed.com.au

[vanivenivici]

Hang on I gotta rant real quick:

I am SICK of ai techbros (and techbros in general) trying to worm their way into industries that they know nothing about.

They've already tried infiltrating Art Spaces (what they do is not art, it is theft); but now there's a handful of them printing and selling their images, so they're telling these gullible idiots how to properly handle and frame the "artwork" like they're professionals.

They know nothing about art. They know nothing about framing. They are yelling at the people they scammed through a youtube video about mounting their cotton (and then varnished??) paper onto aluminum composite that they refer to by its brand name. [Probably because they own stock in the company but that's merely conjecture.]

They say things like "you have to do it this way!!" when 1) again, they know jack shit about framing, never mind conservation or archival framing; 2) they say it with that haughty, grifter's tone like they know what they're talking about; 3) the stupid fools who fall for it also have no idea what they're talking about, but they've fallen for the scam, so if a professional gives them any conflicting advice they lose their shit; and 4) THE PRINT IS WORTHLESS YOU IDIOTS. Why are you taking framing advice from someone who didn't even study art or photography, let alone someone who doesn't have a Framer's Certification??

They're so busy following trends that they don't think! (It has to be mounted on metal?? WHAT.) This includes the poor saps who fall for this bullshit and actually spend real money on a print of an ai generated image oh my god we've really reached this point....

And even if the print is worthless they keep hyping it up like it's priceless or will be so oh boy you'd better frame it properly so it doesn't depreciate in value! BUT GODDAMN METAL IS NON-ARCHIVAL. FUCK.

[Sidenote: the customers that brought in this piece were two of the most unpleasant, exhausting, rude, and self-important chucklefucks I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. Jesus Christ. You're not smart because you watched some rando speak with purpose in a youtube video. I literally get paid to do this.]

[certainstarlightstarlight]

An Overview of CoolSculpting Prices in Midland, TX

Introduction

CoolSculpting is a trendy non-invasive fats discount cure that has received gigantic attractiveness in Midland, TX. This imaginative era makes use of cryolipolysis to freeze and take away cussed fat cells, aiding americans succeed in their desired frame contour. However, beforehand present process this medical care, that's predominant to perceive the cost implications and uncover the most sensible CoolSculpting clinics in Midland that provide low priced costs with out compromising excellent.

CoolSculpting Midland TX: A Breakdown of Costs

CoolSculpting costs in Midland can fluctuate based on various factors corresponding to the range of healing parts and the extent of fats reduction required. On normal, sufferers can count on to pay at any place between $2,000 to $four,000 for a complete healing session. However, this is essential to word that these fees are approximate and may differ from one medical institution to yet another.

Factors Affecting CoolSculpting Prices Treatment Areas: The range of regions being taken care of right away influences the full cost. Each region calls for a separate applicator, growing the whole fee. Applicators: Different-sized applicators are used for various body portions. Larger applicators commonly money extra than smaller ones. Treatment Sessions: Significant fats discount may possibly require a couple of medication periods, which might extend the final expense. Clinic Reputation: Established and legitimate clinics steadily cost better costs using their capabilities and complicated technology. Geographic Location: The cost of residing and working expenses in a selected section can impact CoolSculpting expenses. CoolSculpting Clinics Midland: Finding the Best Providers

When thinking CoolSculpting cures in Midland, it can be integral to opt a reputable medical institution with experienced vendors who prioritize https://americanlasermedspa.com/midland-county-horseshoe-arena-pavilion/ affected person security and delight. Here are some tips for finding the most well known CoolSculpting clinics in Midland:

1. Research and Reviews

Start via accomplishing thorough examine on line to identify capability clinics in Midland that provide CoolSculpting therapies. Read reviews and testimonials from earlier patients to get an thought of their stories and delight degrees.

2. Credentials and Expertise

Ensure that the clinic you make a selection has licensed companies who are experienced in performing CoolSculpting therapies. Look for qualifications, certifications, and memberships in expert agencies.

3. Consultation

Schedule a session with the shortlisted clinics to speak about your objectives and expectancies. This will even come up with an opportunity to assess the health facility's atmosphere, employees professionalism, and typical patient care.

Best CoolSculpting in Midland: Achieving Optimal Results

To acquire the highest quality CoolSculpting consequences in Midland, or not it's principal to observe those recommendations:

1. Choose a Reputable Clinic

Opt for a relied on health center that utilizes trendy CoolSculpting technology and has a established tune record of helpful treatment options.

2. Customize Treatment Plan

Each distinct has distinct physique contours and fats distribution patterns. Ensure that your medical care plan is customized to cope with your extraordinar

[monkeywiki]

HOW TO REFORMAT YOUR RESUME TO MAKE IT EASY FOR RECRUITERS TO SEE IT

Your name, email, contact should be at the top.

Poop Poop | phone number | Email

include 3 REFERENCES of people you trust, teachers, colleagues, even online friends, anyone who would vouch for you, and format.

References 

Blah Blah | College Of Poop and Farts | Lab Tech balhablah@gmail.com 3842348394

Blah Blah | College Of Poop and Farts | Lab Tech balhablah@gmail.com 3842348394

Blah Blah | College Of Poop and Farts | Lab Tech balhablah@gmail.com 3842348394

Education (I recommend putting this next, OR make it the very last thing on your resume.)

Early Graduate Diploma – EebyHS | 2018

Excelled in the Eeby High School Proficiency Exam earning a certificate of diploma prior to most peers in the graduate class.

Experience (notice putting about 2-3 is optimal and fine, if you have none whatsoever, consider volunteer efforts, charity events when you were younger, art clubs you hosted, and consider framing them as Leadership initiatives. Done art commissions? Handling confidential client information and transactions. Pet sitting, helping someone with their homework, babysitting, lawn mowing, anything can be re-framed into buzzword friendly search terms that show you have the diligence and willingness to learn more.)

Job title | Company | Location | Year

Brand Ambassador | Eeby Deeby Programs | Or, Bo | 2019

Utilized PC technology to quickhand troubleshoot technical issues, lead IT support

Camera and photography operations, lead marketing, staging, lighting and merchandising.

IOS maintenance 

POS operation lead, customer & client assurance, tendering sales

TIP: What did this company advocate for? What were your goals and what did your work accomplish? 

Certified Onboarder | Ourga Bourga | Port, Borba | 2018

Coordinates onboarding & training for new hires to successfully transition into their new roles accordingly and within a timely manner.

Communicates effectively to responsibly manage and maintain workflow between the front of house and kitchen.

Leading to ensure customer satisfaction by managing staff’s ticket fulfillment to company standards and to order.

Go to indeed, create a resume and do their skill assessment tests if you want to add more buff to this, however, first you need to look inward. Have you been online your whole life? Welcome to the first step! your next thing on your resume is your :

Skills

(do a wpm test and put your result)

Windows OS & IOS technology

Microsoft technology

Proficient in Word, Excel, Powerpoint 

POS terminals & technology (better way of saying "i was a cashier")

IT support (same thing)

Experience in supervisory, management and training (ever run your own discord? ever recruited for a zine? hosted a re-animated project? No need to say it straight.)

Proficient in marketing, merchandising & staging (AKA: setting up store displays, making sure burgers look Like They're Suppose to, making store aisles clean and products are pulled forward)

(also might help to use indeed, do their resume and their proficiency tests and include those on your resume)

Proficient in OSHA and FDA regulations in food safety control environments (aka i worked foodservice, i have cleaned toilets)

Quality assurance (literally everything ever)

Bonus points if you've worked any place that has access to cleaning products, you can say the following:

Proficient in Ecolab standard protocols.

It's important to consider that recruiters are sifting through hundreds of resumes.

short-term your experience with simple, but BUZZWORD friendly language. Why?

Not only do recruiters want to pick up what you can do Likely within the first few seconds of viewing your application, your application is more likely to be seen by websites like indeed if you use keywords and buzzwords that make your resume relevant to the website's search algorithm.

Sentences are not important. Experience is, and you likely have more than you give yourself credit for. good luck