#custom shelf unit

[dentistnewmanalapan]

Enclosed - Kitchen a sizable, elegant u-shaped kitchen with a medium-toned wood floor and a brown floor, raised-panel cabinets, white cabinets, quartzite countertops, a white backsplash, a quartz backsplash, paneled appliances, an island, and white countertops.

[m-oarts]

Tampa Living Room Inspiration for a sizable, white-walled living room remodel in the modern loft style

[kennedysteve]

Raleigh Kitchen Large elegant u-shaped medium tone wood floor and brown floor enclosed kitchen photo with an undermount sink, raised-panel cabinets, white cabinets, quartzite countertops, white backsplash, quartz backsplash, paneled appliances, an island and white countertops

[foldingfittedsheets]

There’s two bathrooms in my store. One of them is for customers and is just a generously sized room.

The other bathroom is for employees only. It is full of the things you’d expect in a non customer facing bathroom. A shelf unit, cleaning supplies, toilet paper, a mop bucket, the usual. It also has one thing you’d never expect in a bathroom: A yawning void overhead with a rusty iron ladder that ascends upward into pitch blackness.

It’s a bit unsettling the first few times but eventually we all get used to it or we just use the customer bathroom. But the other day an HVAC guy came in and needed access to that ladder as it goes up to the roof. He was in and out the door for over an hour.

I was holding it because we had customers in the store and I didn’t want to poop and hog the only available bathroom. I absorbed myself in my book for a while as the pressure grew in my bowels. I started to sweat. I heard the door ding. I looked up and realized the HVAC guy was finally gone.

I jumped up and darted into the bathroom, locking it with satisfaction. If he needed to come back in he’d have to wait until I got out.

I had a nice poop.

I washed my hands and popped out of the bathroom. My coworker was power walking to me as if I were mortally wounded. She grabbed my arms and urgently whispered, “Were you just in the employee bathroom? Hes still up there!!!”

“No, the guy left-“

At that moment there was a clank up in the ceiling and we both slowly looked up in mutual horror.

“He’s still up there,” I said.

She nodded.

“I- I saw him leave… I swear I saw him leave…”

She shook her head and then we both simultaneously broke down in hysterical laughter, imagining the poor unsuspecting HVAC guy descending a ladder only to discover a pooping employee.

[catholicloveblog]

Modern Living Room - Living Room A large, open-concept, minimalist living room with white walls, a media wall, a beige floor, and a marble floor is an example.

[c1qfxugcgy0]

At my last job, we sold lots of hobbyist electronics stuff, including microcontrollers.

This turned out to be a little more complicated than selling, like, light bulbs. Oh how I yearned for the simplicity of a product you could plug in and have work.

Background: A microcontroller is the smallest useful computer. An ATtiny10 has a kilobyte of program memory. If you buy a thousand at a time, they cost 44 cents each.

As you'd imagine, the smallest computer has not great specs. The RAM is 32 bytes. Not gigabytes, not megabytes, not kilobytes. Individual bytes. Microcontrollers have the absolute minimum amount of hardware needed to accomplish their task, and nothing more.

This includes programming the thing. Any given MCU is programmed once, at the start of its life, and then spends the next 30 years blinking an LED on a refrigerator. Since they aren’t meant to be reflashed in the field, and modern PCs no longer expose the fast, bit-bangable ports hobbyists once used, MCUs usually need a third-party programming tool.

But you could just use that tool to install a bootloader, which then listens for a magic number on the serial bus. Then you can reprogram the chip as many times as you want without the expensive programming hardware.

There is an immediate bifurcation here. Only hobbyists will use the bootloader version. With 1024 bytes of program memory, there is, even more than usual, nothing to spare.

Consumer electronics development is a funny gig. It, more than many other businesses, requires you to be good at everything. A startup making the next Furby requires a rare omniexpertise. Your company has to write software, design hardware, create a production plan, craft a marketing scheme, and still do the boring logistics tasks of putting products in boxes and mailing them out. If you want to turn a profit, you do this the absolute minimum number of people. Ideally, one.

Proving out a brand new product requires cutting corners. You make the prototype using off the shelf hobbyist electronics. You make the next ten units with the same stuff, because there's no point in rewriting the entire codebase just for low rate initial production. You use the legacy code for the next thousand units because you're desperately busy putting out a hundred fires and hiring dozens of people to handle the tsunami of new customers. For the next ten thousand customers...

Rather by accident, my former employer found itself fulfilling the needs of the missing middle. We were an official distributor of PICAXE chips for North America. Our target market was schools, but as a sideline, we sold individual PICAXE chips, which were literally PIC chips flashed with a bootloader and a BASIC interpreter at a 200% markup. As a gag, we offered volume discounts on the chips up to a thousand units. Shortly after, we found ourselves filling multi-thousand unit orders.

We had blundered into a market niche too stupid for anyone else to fill. Our customers were tiny companies who sold prototypes hacked together from dev boards. And every time I cashed a ten thousand dollar check from these guys, I was consumed with guilt. We were selling to willing buyers at the current fair market price, but they shouldn't have been buying these products at all! Since they were using bootloaders, they had to hand program each chip individually, all while PIC would sell you programmed chips at the volume we were selling them for just ten cents extra per unit! We shouldn't have been involved at all!

But they were stuck. Translating a program from the soft and cuddly memory-managed education-oriented languages to the hardcore embedded byte counting low level languages was a rather esoteric skill. If everyone in-house is just barely keeping their heads above water responding to customer emails, and there's no budget to spend $50,000 on a consultant to rewrite your program, what do you do? Well, you keep buying hobbyist chips, that's what you do.

And I talked to these guys. All the time! They were real, functional, profitable businesses, who were giving thousands of dollars to us for no real reason. And the worst thing. The worst thing was... they didn't really care? Once every few months they would talk to their chip guy, who would make vague noises about "bootloaders" and "programming services", while they were busy solving actual problems. (How to more accurately detect deer using a trail camera with 44 cents of onboard compute) What I considered the scandal of the century was barely even perceived by my customers.

In the end my employer was killed by the pandemic, and my customers seamlessly switched to buying overpriced chips straight from the source. The end! No moral.

[brookghaib-blog]

The Weight of Familiar Things

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x reader

Summary: After breaking up in high school, Y/N had never really moved on from the best relationship of her life with Bob after he disappear out of thin air. While working on her shift, Bob reappears the same away he went away.

Word Count: 3,4k

--

The store buzzed softly with the usual low hum of midweek monotony — the steady beep of barcode scanners, the distant whirr of the refrigerator units near the dairy aisle, and the occasional squawk from the ancient intercom that insisted on cutting off half of every announcement.

Y/N stood at the express register, elbows resting on the cool laminate counter as she lazily spun the lid of a half-full bottle of Gatorade she’d stashed behind the till. The clock above the frozen foods section blinked indifferently — 4:07 PM. Still three more hours until she could bolt out of here, rip off the stiff red vest with the faded name tag, and try to salvage enough brainpower for a database systems assignment.

Her shift had been... tolerable. Not slow enough to be bored, but not busy enough to lose herself in the chaos either. Just a constant trickle of shoppers with shopping carts full of existential dread and discount coupons.

“You will not believe what just happened in aisle six,” came the dramatic whisper of Meg, her bestie and co-worker, who appeared from around the shelf like a gossip-hungry ninja.

Y/N straightened up, instantly suspicious. “What now?”

Meg leaned against the counter with all the grace of a wounded goose and sighed deeply, like she was about to recount war crimes. “So, I’m helping Mrs. Kowalski pick out a gluten-free cereal because her nephew has, like, six allergies, and suddenly this dude — I swear to you, hand to my future nutrition degree — this absolute menace shows up and starts harassing everyone in the cereal aisle.”

Y/N blinked. “Wait, like, harassing how?”

Meg rolled her eyes so hard it looked like she might pass out from the effort. “Like ‘hey, girl, are you cereal? Because I wanna eat you for breakfast’ kind of harassing. To Mrs. Kowalski. Who is, like, seventy and barely understands what a protein bar is.”

Y/N nearly snorted out her drink. “No. He did not.”

“He did!” Meg stabbed a finger at the air. “And then when she looked confused and kind of alarmed, he tried to recover by saying she had a ‘youthful aura’ and asked if she believed in reincarnation because he thinks they met in a past life.” Meg paused, raised an eyebrow. “In ancient Egypt. I wish I was making this up.”

Y/N was wheezing now, covering her mouth to avoid attracting customer attention. “Was he on something?”

“I don’t know, but if he was, I want a refund for him because whatever it was clearly failed.” Meg looked genuinely insulted on behalf of humanity. “I told him he had five seconds to get his Tutankhamun-loving ass out of the cereal aisle before I got Jason from produce to ‘escort’ him.”

“Oh my God,” Y/N giggled, leaning over the counter as if it helped her breathe better through the laughter. “You didn’t.”

“I did. Jason threatened to hit him with a bunch of unripe bananas. It was poetic.” Meg smiled smugly, brushing invisible dust off her shoulder like she was a bouncer at a nightclub instead of a student in a grocery vest.

Y/N wiped her eyes. “And this all happened during your gluten-free consultation?”

“Oh, Mrs. Kowalski was living for the drama,” Meg said, lowering her voice. “She literally asked me if she could follow me on Instagram after. Said I had ‘star energy.’ I think I accidentally became her new granddaughter.”

“That’s better than when she told me I look like someone who forgets to eat lunch.”

Meg clutched her chest. “Ouch. Brutal. But also accurate.”

“Rude.” Y/N narrowed her eyes but smiled. “Anyway, are you sure this guy left? I don't want to deal with some reincarnated cereal prophet asking me if I believe in destiny while I'm trying to stock the frozen waffles.”

Meg gestured dramatically toward the front doors. “Gone. Jason banana-walked him out. One of the little kids clapped.”

They both laughed again, louder this time, drawing a suspicious glance from Dan, the thirty-something manager who took his job too seriously and wore khakis like a lifestyle. He always hovered just a little too close to the walkie-talkie strapped to his belt like it was a police badge.

“Act busy,” Y/N hissed.

Meg grabbed a roll of receipt paper and pretended to read the ingredients printed on the cardboard core. “Wow. 100%... pulp.”

Y/N bit her lip to stifle a laugh.

The moment passed, and Meg leaned against the counter again, looking more relaxed. “Hey, you okay today?” she asked quietly, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “You’ve been zoning out between customers like you’re trying to access a hidden file in your brain.”

Y/N sighed. “Just school stuff. I’ve got a network systems quiz tomorrow, and I think I forgot how logic gates work.”

“You’re too smart,” Meg said. “I read a label backward today and got excited that I can still read.”

“I’d trade my brain for your social skills and sense of self-worth.”

“I’d trade my lungs for a nap.” Meg sighed. “And maybe a boyfriend. Or at least someone taller than a bag of dog food.”

Y/N smirked. “You’re setting the bar low, huh?”

“I’m setting the bar realistic,” Meg said. “You ever lifted a 50-pound sack of kibble? That’s some sturdy energy. I want a man who could stop a shopping cart with one hand and still help me study anatomy later, if you know what I mean.”

Y/N made a choking noise. “You’re disgusting.”

Meg grinned. “You love me.”

Y/N shook her head, but she did. She really did. Somehow, amidst their shared suffering at the mercy of impatient customers and barcode scanners, they’d built a friendship that made even the worst shifts manageable.

Just then, the front door sensors gave a low chime as someone new entered the store.

Meg peered over Y/N’s shoulder, then leaned in again. “Oh. Speaking of kibble-worthy men…”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Don’t say it—”

“Tall. Brown hair. Weird posture. Looks like he doesn’t know how to buy cereal either. Wanna bet if he’s gonna ask about reincarnation?”

Y/N followed her gaze toward the cereal aisle.

Y/N squinted toward the cereal aisle as Meg leaned in like a commentator at a fashion show.

“Tall,” Meg whispered. “He’s wearing... what is that? Cargo pants? And—yep, oversize sweater that looks big even on his hands. Tell me that doesn’t scream your exact type.”

Y/N huffed. “You think every man is my type if he’s above six feet and looks like he hasn’t slept in three days.”

“Because those are the men who write poetry about you in the dark,” Meg said, eyes narrowed like a seer. “That guy? He looks like he’s been through something. Like he owns exactly one bowl and stares out the window when it rains.”

Y/N tilted her head again. The man — tall, broad, messy hair that looked like he ran his hand through it too often, faint stubble on his jaw — was crouched in front of the granola. Not really inspecting brands. More like… zoning out. His hand hovered over a box, then pulled back.

And there was something about him. Something familiar.

“I… I think I know him,” Y/N muttered, brow furrowed.

Meg gasped. “Wait. Seriously? You dated someone with main character hair and didn’t tell me?”

“I don’t know if I dated him—! I said he looks familiar. Like I’ve seen him before. But I can’t place it.” Y/N crossed her arms. “Maybe from campus? Or a lab partner from freshman year?”

Meg wiggled her eyebrows. “Lab partner turned life partner, let’s goooo.”

Y/N gave her a look. “Meg, he’s buying cereal.”

“And we sell hope. Don’t kill the vibe.”

The two broke into giggles again, their laughter light in the otherwise empty front end of the store. Dan was thankfully nowhere in sight, probably grilling someone in frozen foods about FIFO rotation again. The store was in its sleepy lull between the after-school snack rush and the post-commute dinner crowd, which meant just enough time for existential dread or flirting, whichever came first.

A few minutes later, the man — still slightly hunched, as if he hadn’t fully adapted to existing in public — approached Y/N’s register with a small wire basket.

She straightened up automatically, scanning him as professionally as she could. The basket only held a few items: a loaf of multigrain bread, two cups of plain Greek yogurt, and a small bundle of bananas. Not even the good kind of snacky grocery run. It looked… survivalist.

Up close, he looked even more out of place. Handsome, definitely, but not polished. Like he had been handsome by accident, without any effort or maintenance. His hoodie had a tear near the left cuff. His knuckles looked bruised.

“Hey,” he said, his voice gravel-soft and low. “Just these.”

Y/N smiled politely, fingers moving to scan the items. “No problem.”

There was a brief, awkward pause.

She glanced up. He was watching her — not in a creepy way, but like he was trying to solve a puzzle. And for some reason, that expression made the back of her neck tingle.

“You look… really familiar,” she said before she could stop herself.

He blinked. Then gave a small, lopsided smile. “Yeah. I was gonna say the same.”

There was another second of hesitation — and then he set the basket down fully, like he was settling into the moment. “Y/N L/N, right?”

She stiffened a little. “Wait—what?”

“I’m Bob,” he said, slow and unsure, almost like it felt foreign coming out of his mouth. “Bob Reynolds. We… used to date. Back in high school.”

A beat passed.

A very long beat.

Then Meg, who had suddenly materialized from behind a gum display, made a noise that sounded like a suppressed sneeze, only it ended in a strangled laugh. She coughed wildly, slapping her own chest like she was choking on an Altoid.

Y/N’s mouth opened, then closed again. Her eyes scanned his face now, digging past the messy hair and sunken tiredness, through the faint stubble and older, more grown-out shape of him. And yes — yes, of course — it was him.

“Holy crap,” she breathed. “Bob. Bob Reynolds. You… you used to have an earing and used to wear those terrible denim jackets.”

Bob cracked a half-smile. “Guilty. I, uh… grew out of one of those.”

“Yeah,” she said, still stunned.

“Figured I’d evolve,” he replied dryly, glancing down at his feet.

Meg was gripping the gum rack now like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

“You were... in my chem class,” Y/N said slowly. “And you used to draw on your notebooks and refuse to dissect frogs.”

“You did the frog for me,” Bob added.

“You looked like you were going to cry,” she shot back with a grin.

“I was very emotionally sensitive about amphibians.”

“I thought you moved away,” she said, still trying to reconcile high school Bob — the quiet, awkward guy who somehow got her attention despite being allergic to school spirit — with the man standing in front of her now.

“I did. For a while. Just got back recently. Kind of laying low.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t expect to run into anyone I knew. Let alone you.”

Meg, now fully inserted into the conversation, leaned in way too far over the counter. “Y/N was basically queen of the school, by the way. You got the cheerleader valedictorian combo and then ghosted? Savage.”

Bob looked mortified. “I didn’t ghost.”

“She’s kidding,” Y/N said, elbowing Meg. “Mostly.”

“Mostly not,” Meg whispered behind her hand, still grinning.

Bob shifted awkwardly, then finally held out his hand, as if trying to restart everything. “It’s really good to see you, though. You look… the same. Better, actually.”

Y/N took his hand, surprised at how warm it was. Solid. Grounded. “You look…” she hesitated. “Different.”

“Good different or ‘have-you-been-living-in-a-bunker’ different?”

“Depends. How long has that hoodie been alive?”

Bob laughed — a quiet, honest sound. “Long enough to be considered a roommate.”

Meg dramatically fanned herself with a flyer. “I’m going to die right here in aisle one from sexual tension.”

“Go. Stock yogurt.” Y/N hissed through her teeth.

“Yes ma'am.” Meg whispered, backing away with a wink and mouthing call me later like this was a teen drama.

Y/N turned back to Bob, who was trying to smother a grin. She bagged his groceries quickly, handing them over as if she needed her hands busy or else they’d start shaking from the weird flood of emotions creeping up her spine.

“So… you staying around for a while?” she asked.

“Yeah. Trying to figure things out.”

“Well. You know where the bread and yogurt are now.”

Bob took the bag with a nod. “Thanks. For… uh. This. Talking to me.”

She shrugged, softening. “Anytime. I work most afternoons.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

And then he left — walking back out into the spring afternoon like a dream someone half-remembered after waking up. The automatic doors hissed shut behind him.

Meg came sprinting back over like a cartoon character. “Okay. What the hell was that?”

Y/N stared at the door, eyes wide, mind buzzing. “That was Bob. From high school.”

Meg’s jaw dropped. “That’s the Bob? The Bob??”

“I didn’t know he was back.”

Meg stared at her. “Girl. You had a mysterious sad boy phase before it was cool, and you never told me?”

Y/N blinked, mouth slowly turning into a smile. “It’s been a weird day.”

Meg sighed dramatically. “I’m buying you a lottery ticket after shift. Because clearly, the universe is sending you something.”

“Bread and yogurt?”

Meg grinned. “Or closure. Or maybe just the hottest second chance romance I’ve ever seen play out between cereal and a banana threat.”

They both dissolved into laughter again, the kind of laughter that bubbled up from something bigger — something starting.

And in the distance, Bob Reynolds walked home, a little confused, a little nervous.

--

High School Cafeteria, Junior Year

The cafeteria buzzed with the chaotic energy only high school lunch breaks could summon. Trays clattered, someone’s Bluetooth speaker played muffled bass under a hoodie, and the student body fractured into its social tribes: athletes hoarding pizza slices, theater kids rehearsing lines with dramatic fork stabs, and the STEM table arguing over something on a calculator like it was national policy.

Y/N sat with her usual group at the round table by the window — the so-called “popular kids,” though she hated the term. It felt like something from a teen drama rather than real life. Still, it was true that most of the school knew her name. Not in the mean-girl, tiara-wearing way, but because she was… everywhere. Cheer team captain. AP classes. Friendly with the faculty. Genuinely kind. She was the kind of person who remembered people’s birthdays and always knew which vending machine stocked the good trail mix.

Today, though, she was buzzing with something else entirely. Her eyes kept darting to the cafeteria doors every few seconds, even as her friends gossiped.

“So then,” said Jasmine, twirling a plastic spoon like a wand, “I caught Chloe writing ‘Mrs. Max Danvers’ in her notebook. In gel pen. With hearts.”

“She’s so delusional,” Lexi groaned, picking at her salad. “Max hasn’t liked anyone since eighth grade and that was his dog.”

Y/N laughed but not fully — her mind halfway across the school, willing a very specific someone to walk through those doors.

“Okay, Y/N,” said Jasmine, poking her. “Are you even here? What’s with you today?”

“Huh? Oh—” Y/N flushed slightly, biting into a grape and glancing back at the doors.

Lexi gasped. “Oh my God. She’s waiting for her emo prince, isn’t she?”

Y/N tried to look annoyed, but her smile gave her away. “He’s not emo.”

“He literally wore a shirt with a crow on it yesterday,” Jasmine said. “And headphones inside class.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, just as the doors creaked open with a buzz of late students scanning in.

And then—there he was.

Bob Reynolds stepped into the cafeteria like he didn’t belong to it. Tall, slightly slouched, backpack slung over one shoulder with a broken strap safety-pinned together. His hoodie was faded, his jeans frayed at the edges, and his hair looked like he had woken up five minutes ago — but God, her heart skipped every time she saw him.

He scanned the room once with those deep-set eyes and barely smiled — but Y/N knew the look he saved just for her.

Her entire face lit up like a switch flipped. “I’ll be right back,” she said, practically leaping from her chair.

Jasmine looked like she was watching a royal engagement. “She’s sprinting. We’ve lost her.”

Y/N weaved through tables, ignoring wolf whistles from the football guys and eye-rolls from sophomores, until she reached him. Without hesitation, she threw her arms around his neck.

“Hey, stranger,” she beamed, hugging him tight.

Bob’s expression softened like snow melting off a roof. He caught her waist, pulling her close. “Hey.”

And then she kissed him.

Not a peck. Not a shy hallway kiss. This was the full, smile-into-it, kiss-you-like-I’ve-waited-all-morning kind of kiss.

Someone behind them muttered, “Jesus, get a room,” but neither of them noticed.

“You’re late,” she murmured against his mouth, smiling too hard to be stern.

“Had to stay behind in chem. My sulfur compound exploded. Again.”

She laughed. “You’re really bad at chemistry.”

“I’m not bad at it,” he said, feigning offense. “It’s just hostile toward me.”

“Come sit with us.” She tugged his hand, already pulling him through the maze of tables. “You need to eat something that isn’t vending machine trail mix.”

Bob hesitated, but didn’t resist. “Are you sure?”

“They love you,” she said.

That was… a stretch. But he followed anyway.

Back at the table, Jasmine made a dramatic bow as Y/N returned with Bob in tow. “Ah yes. Our table’s brooding king returns.”

Bob raised a hand in greeting. “Hey.”

Lexi gave him a once-over. “Still refusing to cut that hair, I see.”

“It’s almost finals season. I’m growing it in protest.”

“You protest everything.”

He shrugged. “Someone has to.”

Y/N took her seat and dragged him down next to her. His tray only had a banana and a bottle of water, so she immediately started giving him half her sandwich.

“You’re gonna die of scurvy,” she said, breaking it in half.

“You say that like it’s dramatic,” he replied, but took the sandwich anyway.

The group settled into chatter — mostly about the upcoming dance, rumors about a surprise fire drill, and whether Mr. Thomas was dating the substitute gym teacher. Bob didn’t say much, but he didn’t have to. He sat with an ease he didn’t have his sophomore year, when people whispered “Isn’t that the guy who tagged the music room lockers?”

He was still a mystery — still quiet, still aloof — but Y/N changed how people looked at him. She always touched his arm when she spoke. She brought him into jokes. She looked at him like he mattered.

And that mattered.

As the others got distracted ranking the weirdest school lunch meat ("Turkey, then ham, then the one they call 'mystery cube'"), Y/N turned slightly, her knee brushing his.

“I missed you today,” she said quietly, almost too private for the lunchroom’s roar.

He looked at her — really looked — and his voice dropped. “I missed you too.”

“You okay?” she asked, tilting her head.

Bob nodded. “Just tired. But I’m good now.”

She kissed his cheek. He turned. Their lips met again, slower this time.

From across the table, Jasmine let out a strangled groan. “You guys. Please.”

Lexi fake gagged with her spoon. “You know we can see you, right?”

Y/N leaned back with a huge grin. “You’re just jealous.”

“I’m jealous of the PDA fog you two are putting out,” Lexi said.

Bob smirked. “We’ll tone it down.”

“No, you won’t,” Jasmine sighed. “You’re gonna get married and make out in the produce aisle and we’re all gonna have to pretend we didn’t see it.”

Y/N leaned her head on Bob’s shoulder. “Promise we’ll invite you to the wedding.”

Bob whispered, just for her, “You know I love you, right?”

She turned her head, eyes soft. “Yeah. I love you too.”

And there it was — in the middle of greasy pizza trays, laughing friends, and the smell of old tater tots — a perfect little moment carved out of time.

Two kids in love.

So stupidly, beautifully in love.

[simstichy]

SYMTILLVERKAD SET

This set includes 6 new items:

⭐SYMLINGE Armchair

Base Game compatible

New Armchair

English + Spanish title and description

8 swatches

Custom High + Med + Low LODs

⭐SYMLINGE Armchair with Flower Pillow

Base Game compatible

New Armchair

English + Spanish title and description

21 swatches

Custom High + Med + Low LODs

⭐SYMKORRE Open Shelf Unit V1

Base Game compatible

New Functional Shelf

English + Spanish title and description

7 swatches

+50 Slots

Custom High + Med + Low LODs

⭐SYMKORRE Open Shelf Unit V2

Base Game compatible

New Functional Shelf

English + Spanish title and description

10 swatches

+50 Slots

Custom High + Med + Low LODs

⭐KÄLLARSIMS Vase Mate Version

Base Game compatible

New Decorative Vase

English + Spanish title and description

17 swatches

Custom High + Med + Low LODs

⭐KÄLLARSIMS Vase

Base Game compatible

New Decorative Vase

English + Spanish title and description

17 swatches

Custom High + Med + Low LODs

💡You can find all my CC by typing ‘EstenzoLarra’ into the search bar💡

I won't admit how much time the armchairs took to make, at least I think I learned a lot. Also from now on I'll try to make custom thumbnails

I'm so happy to be able to finally share it \(0^◇^0)/

Made with S4S + Blender + Sweat + Tears

🔽Download & Screenshots under the cut 🔽

—-TERMS OF USE—- Please avoid redistributing or upload my CC elsewhere. Contact me if you want to publish any recolors of it If you use it, kindly tag me so I can reblog it. 💙Thank you so much for your support!💙 —————————————————-

DOWNLOAD -> MERGED(SFS) | SFS FOLDER | MODTHESIMS

Additional Screenshots:

Slots:

[erosetta-sims]

[Modular Bespoke Study - Part A]

Sims4 CC

✨Here comes the double study room, please check it out~

The first part is equivalent to the main framework of the study, which includes various large and small furniture pieces for combined customization, totaling 30 items. However… does it look a bit empty? There are also some decorative ornaments that I plan to create as content for next month. Let me strive to fill it up!!

Hope you like it : )

🤎Total items: 30

The number of colors ranges from a dozen to thirty or forty. The colors of wooden furniture are all matched. In addition to solid colors, curtains and throw pillows also have checkered and printed options. For specifics, you can check them out in the game by yourselves.

Sheer curtains and cloth curtains can be stacked in two layers. Slightly staggering their positions can prevent any texture clipping.

The lighting effect of the shelf is built-in.

Holes on the pegboard can be used to place items on the storage board. Next month, some matching decorations that can be hung or pasted will also be made.

The curtain box is independent and can be paired with other curtains to hide the curtain rod.

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MaxisMatch - New Meshes and textures.

🤎Release version: 1.115

🤎HighSchoolYears & HomeChefHustle

🤎Public release in July

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1 set of desk and chair

1 under-desk drawer cabinet

5 basic bay window seats (left, middle, right, coffee table, chaise lounge)

3 bay window seats with backrest (left, middle, right)

2 pillow combinations

2 desks (2x1, corner)

2 shelving units with built-in lighting (straight panel, cabinet style)

3 pegboards

1 window (4x1)

3 curtain boxes (left, middle, right)

3 curtains (half-wall, low-wall, mid-wall)

3 sheer curtains (half-wall, low-wall, mid-wall)

1 floor (color-customizable)

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🔗Early Access

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(Google Translate, Please forgive me if there is any inappropriate expression.)

[svt-meiying]

┈୨♡୧┈ PERSONAL FACTS ┈୨♡୧┈

𓆩♡𓆪 She is currently pursuing a Master's Degree in Neuroscience at the Seoul National University after obtaining a Bachelor's Degree in Psychology (Biology minor).

𓆩♡𓆪 During the older dorm arrangement she lived alongside Joshua and whilst other members moved around over the years, they reportedly still share an apartment.

𓆩♡𓆪 Ever since the first ACL tear, the left side on her in-ear has had the character '力', which is the character for power or strength, whilst the right is entirely white.

𓆩♡𓆪 The members had a microphone customized in secret, painting it using the light blue - nearly white - color of her right iris.

𓆩♡𓆪 Despite holding the position of lead vocalist, the company placed her in the other sub-units to add more contrast to their voices and provide the performance team with the unique graceful movements instilled in her through ballet.

𓆩♡𓆪 She has three different license types ; a driver's license (jan. 2019), a motorcycle license (feb. 2019) and a racing license (jan. 2021).

𓆩♡𓆪 Meiying owns a limited edition 2022 Nissan GT-R (R35) Nismo and a 2015 Kawasaki Ninja H2R, though netizens have recently seen her holding Ferrari keys.

𓆩♡𓆪 Acting credits ; Sweet Home as Yoon Ji-Su, Gangnam B-Side as Kim Jae-Hee, Squid Game as Ji-Yeong and Exhuma as Hwa-Rim

𓆩♡𓆪 Meiying has long feared the sight of alcohol bottles along with medication in the form of pills due to the complicated past with her adoptive brother, so taking things such as vitamins or even needed treatments proved difficult for several years.

𓆩♡𓆪 Influenced through her very close relationship with BTS member Jungkook, the vocalist began smoking around 2022, though only does so when they are together.

𓆩♡𓆪 The maknae often calls other members 'hyung' instead of the proper honorific 'oppa' because nobody had the heart to correct her during trainee day.

𓆩♡𓆪 Aphrodite in 'Epic : The Musical' was voiced by the idol as tight schedules prevented her from taking on the larger role of Athena.

𓆩♡𓆪 Meiying's biological brother, known internationally under the stage name 'Saint' is an actor, model and martial artist based in the United States (as of 2024).

𓆩♡𓆪 Much like co-producer Woozi, she knows how to play basic instruments yet her skills also include ; the guzheng, the liukin, and the dizi.

𓆩♡𓆪 Stuffed toys are central to the maknae's interests as not only do they decorate every single shelf in her room, but no bag will ever be seen without fluffy keychains.

𓆩♡𓆪 During the filming of the 2013 movie 'Commitment', in which she played the role of Li Hye-In, she met her very first mentor ; Choi Seung Hyun. Public appearances at each other's side halted following the 2017 scandal, but they seemed to have reunited in late 2024 after the release of 'Squid Game ; Season 2'.

𓆩♡𓆪 In February 2020, Monsta X's Jooheon announced that he had become Meiying's mentor, a relationship that carries on to this day.

𓆩♡𓆪 Her artworks - ranging from paintings and calligraphy to embroidery - are permanent exhibits throughout numerous galleries.

𓆩♡𓆪 Wonwoo introduced their maknae to computer games and it has since then become one of her favorite pass-times, with her most played including ; Valorant, Assassin's Creed and many horror games.

𓆩♡𓆪 Retaining the athleticism from childhood, she takes part in many physical activities such as jogging, swimming and even bikes with ATEEZ's Wooyoung.

𓆩♡𓆪 Social media was taken aback by pictures of the young woman without the usual contact lens over her blind eye in 2019 and since then she stopped wearing it.

𓆩♡𓆪 Meiying has an entire glass case dedicated to displaying albums along with her favorite photocards, and during certain fan meets she will trade with fans.

𓆩♡𓆪 Physical proximity has become an anchor to ease the symptoms of her panic disorder, constantly hovering next to other members and often holding their fingers.

𓆩♡𓆪 The maknae's rapper tag is '어흥', which would loosely translate to 'roar' and it originated from the fact that whilst forming the paw gesture shared with Hoshi, her lips instinctively pull back to reveal sharp canines, as though she is trying to roar.

𓆩♡𓆪 She loves cooking intricate dishes, even finding joy in preparing meals for all 13 other members despite the effort it requires.

𓆩♡𓆪 Intellectual or deceitful games never prove boring when the vocalist is the one strategizing, her sharp wits allowing Meiying to trick even Jeonghan.

𓆩♡𓆪 The maknae's closet centers around pieces that others have purchased as gifts despite insisting that this amount of spoiling was not necessary.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Taglist ; @prbywoo

[obitez]

Little Bo Peep

written for @bucktommywinterfest

Round 13: Meet cute and different jobs

Rating: G | Word Count: 1732

Additional Tags: No firefighters

Warnings: None

When Tommy got out of the Army, he could have moved anywhere in the United States and probably qualified for a wide assortment of jobs. Aircraft mechanic, car mechanic, supply manager, truck driver, and heavy equipment operator for various construction equipment. Tommy never got around to being certified on cranes though, shame. 

He ended up moving to a small beach town about two hours north of Los Angeles, when his uncle offered to let him take over his old bookstore - and it was probably one of the few jobs the Army didn’t train him for. 

Tommy didn’t know a thing about owning, running, and managing a bookstore. Had never even worked in one. Sure, he was a reader and read a lot of books, but the books he read were… not that popular with the general population. 

He doubted there were that many enjoyers of Napoleonic War dramas and biopics. At least in the states. Most of the online forums and reddit pages consisted of people in the UK. 

Although his uncle had told him that delivery services like Amazon and the like hadn’t moved into the town yet so the store was still the main supplier of books for the town, and if he listened to the book clubs that used the table in the back as their meeting location, they would give him the lists of up and coming books from all genres that he needed to keep in stock. 

And looking at the finances for his first official month as owner, he guessed his uncle had a point. 

That didn’t mean the whole thing was easy however, far from it. 

“I don’t think your parents will be that pleased if I sell this book to you,” Tommy told the nine year old girl as she placed the book on the sale counter. The book itself was a raunchy romance novel with a deceiving cover filled with cats and puppies. Tommy never expected to become a romance reader after moving here, but the book club that met Monday evenings pulled him into being one. 

“They said that I can read whatever books I want,” the girl countered. 

“And I think when they said that they implied any children’s book you want.”

“It’s called Puppy Love and has a bunch of puppies on it. How’s that not a children’s book?” the girl asked. 

“It’s not a children’s book because you got it from the adult section, that’s located all the way upstairs,” Tommy pointed to the stairwell that led to the upstairs bookcases. The bookcases Tommy specifically remembered restocking that book with that very morning. 

The girl huffed, a frown on her face and spun on her heel to go back to a shelf in the young adult section. Tommy picked up the book she had left and placed it on a shelf under the counter, filled with other books that he would need to restock once the customers left.

Then, ten seconds later, another person came up to the counter, setting down five books to purchase. So much for a short break. 

Halfway through the afternoon, there was a short spall when there were only five customers in the store. When Carlos, the highschooler he had hired to help around on his free afternoons came by, Tommy took the opportunity to leave the register to him and get started on the various tasks he needed to complete around the shop. 

“So you’re the new guy that Mr. Paul was talking about?” a voice sounded from behind him as he was restocking the shelves in the cookbook section. 

Tommy turned around and looked up. 

There stood a tall guy, maybe a half inch shorter than him, shirt curly hair gelled back, blue green eyes, and big muscles. 

“I take it you’re talking about my uncle?” Tommy asked. 

“Yeah,” The guy nodded, and Tommy spotted a small birthmark right above one of his eyebrows. It was cute. “He was telling me that he was about to retire and give the place to his nephew, I just didn’t…”

“Expect his nephew to look like me?” Tommy asked. The man was silent for a second, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Tommy laughed. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re not the first person to say it.”

Half of the old ladies who came in the first week he was running the place said the same thing. What was a man with his looks and muscles doing running a bookstore out in this town? He should be down south in LA, hitting up all the bars and clubs down there.

“Y- yeah… oh… yeah, what you said,” the man continued, stammering over his own words, looking way out of his element. 

 📚  📚  📚  📚  📚

Buck looked at the small unassuming bookstore from where he stood in the cafe across the street. When he had been driving through the sleepy seaside town five years ago he had run low on cash, he had walked into the cafe and asked about the help wanted sign taped on the front window. Five years later and he was still there, and had made friends and a pseudo family with people throughout the town. 

One of the people he had come to regard as a friend was the owner and runner of the bookstore across the street, who had told him a couple of months ago that he was retiring and going to move to be closer to his sister in Oregon, and leaving the store to his nephew, who no one in the town had met before. 

Buck didn’t know how he should feel about it. Leaving one of the most popular shops in town to some stranger. 

“Have you met the guy who took over the bookstore, yet?” Buck asked as they were setting up one morning, pulling the outdoor tables outside. 

“Guy that took over the bookstore?” Eddie asked as he carried a set of chairs outside. 

“Yeah,” Buck nodded. “The old owner retired and moved out, gave the place to his nephew.” 

Eddie shrugged. “I only go there when Christopher needs to get a book for school,” he said. “Haven’t been there since like… last October or something like that.” 

Buck hummed to himself as he looked across the street at the store. It didn’t look any different, the same as it had since he moved to this town. He would have to go over there once he got off shift and meet the new man for himself. 

He and Eddie ended their shift around 2:30, and while Eddie drove down the street to the elementary school to pick his son up, Buck made his way to the bookstore across the street. 

Buck opened the door and heard the same bell chime that had sounded the numerous times he had come here over the previous years. The inside of the store looked the same as well. Same signs above the bookshelves, same sales counter, the only things that were really different were the books that were on the featured and new releases shelves. But those shelves always showed something different every time Buck came in. 

Buck spotted a disinterested guy who was clearly a teenager standing behind the counter, he vaguely recognized him from around town and guessed that he wasn’t the guy who had taken the store over. Then his gaze traveled upwards to the second story, seeing a man, probably a couple years older than him, unloading books from a box and setting them onto one of the bookshelves. 

Buck walked up the stairs and then studied the man for a second before going over to talk to him. He was kneeling on his knees, but Buck guessed he would probably be around his height if he stood up. He was also pretty muscular, a lot more than Buck would assume any bookstore owner would have any need to be. 

But then again, maybe he did? Books got heavy after a while, didn’t they? 

Buck cleared his throat as he walked up to the bookshelf and Buck saw the man’s shoulders perk up. “So… you must be the guy Mr. Paul was talking about?” Buck asked.  

The man turned his head and shoulders to look up at Buck, raising an eyebrow he asked, “I take it you’re talking about my uncle?” 

“Y- yeah,” Buck stammered, suddenly growing nervous as he felt the man study him. “H- he was telling me that he was about to retire and give the place to his nephew, I just- I didn’t…

“Expect his nephew to look like me?” the man said as he let out a soft laugh and stood up from where he was stocking the books. Buck got a better look at him now. And if possible, Buck thought he looked better than he had before. Buck stumbled over his words, and the man laughed again. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re not the first person to say that.”

Oh, that made Buck feel slightly better, he thought. 

“Y- yeah… oh… yeah, what you said,” Buck said as he still stumbled over his words. 

The man then held out his hand to him. “Tommy Kinard,” he said as he introduced himself. 

Buck took it as he shook the man’s, Tommy’s, hand. “Evan Buckley,” he said. 

Tommy smiled then, and Buck thought it was a nice smile. Buck thought that he would like to see it more often. “Nice to meet you, Evan.”

Buck couldn’t even find it in himself to tell the man he didn’t go by Evan.

 📚  📚  📚  📚  📚

“So, Evan,” Tommy started as he walked up to the front counter of the cafe the following morning. Buck perked his head up from where he was cooking up an omelet behind the counter. “What would you recommend here?” 

Buck smiled as he turned his head to face Tommy. “Well, Bobby’s not here today, so I’m head chef.” 

Tommy’s face took on that soft smile it had yesterday. “So what would you recommend then?” he asked. 

Buck hummed in thought. “I thought up this apple waffle recipe yesterday, would you like to be my guinea pig?” 

“Why not?” Tommy said as he took a seat. “Let me see ‘em.” 

“He calls you Evan?” Eddie asked later as Tommy walked back across the street to the bookstore. 

Buck rolled his eyes. “So what?” he asked, only slightly blushing.

[birdie-in-arcadia]

All In

Here's the beginning of my second fic ever! It's much more light-hearted than the last one, and gets a bit spicy later on. It's multiple chapters as well, so here's chapter one! Enjoy :)

CHAPTER ONE – INK AND VINYL 

(My Point of View) 

My mother used to say I was born with a broken compass. Not that I lacked direction, only that I never wanted hers. She wanted prestige, stability; a polished version of her own unfinished story, remade through me. I was meant to be her redemption arc. I was supposed to marry security, study something practical, and smile in family portraits with tidy captions. 

Instead, I chose London. A suitcase in each hand and a one-way flight out of everything she’d planned for me. I don’t think she’s spoken to me since. And some days, that hurts like hell. But not today. Today smells like leather, dust, and coffee, and that’s enough. 

The chime above the door sounds softly as I step into the record/bookstore where I work part-time. It’s tucked away down a cobbled street just past the university; a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of place, with frosted windows and shelves that lean like they’ve been carrying the weight of stories for far too long. 

I exhale slowly, letting the familiar scent wash over me; aged paper, waxed wood, warm Colombian roast wafting from the counter behind the register. This place feels like an exhale. Like reprieve. The ambient lo-fi track looping through the ceiling speakers adds to the charm. Soft, subtle piano and light saxophone lilt cascade through the air and settle down on my shoulders and weave through the bookshelves and baskets of records. Never too loud or overwhelming. I love it here. It’s slow, peaceful, and it gives me time to study, breathe, and think. 

I walk behind the counter, set down my messenger bag, and wrap my chilled fingers around the mug I’d left beside the register last night. I bring it to my lips, sipping as I take inventory of the empty store. No customers yet. Perfect. I set down the mug and turn around to load up the coffee pot, brewing fresh caffeine that’ll last my 8-hour day here. 

I grab my guitar from it's stand next to my post at the register. It’s an old Oscar Schmidt with a shiny lacquer finish, with finger grooves worn into the fretboard. I settle onto the stool behind the counter. Fingers find the strings easily, and I start plucking through Take Aim. It’s always Take Aim lately. The song moves like a memory; steady, aching, lulling. I hum quietly, letting the notes curl around my form like warm wind. 

The door chime rings. I glance up, still mid-pluck. “Hello, welcome in.” My trusty customer service voice comes out soft, just enough to carry. 

The man who steps inside is tall and slender. His black coat is buttoned up over a warm-looking sweater, jeans cuffed over lived-in Converse. His hair’s dark, a little tousled like the wind got to it, and parted neatly to one side. There’s something familiar about the way he carries himself, unassuming but intentional. 

He nods at me with a polite smile and moves further into the store. I try not to stare, returning my attention to the guitar. The melody comes softer now. Like a reflex. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch him pause near the fiction shelf, fingers grazing the spines like he’s looking for something he isn’t quite sure exists. 

He takes his time. He moves to the vinyl section next, pulling a few products from the bins, flipping them over to scan the tracklists. I watch, subtly. He has long fingers, gentle with the covers, showing that he knows how much it matters not to bend the corners. 

Eventually, he approaches the counter, two records and one leather-bound book in hand. I set the guitar aside, carefully slotting it back into its stand. “Find everything alright?” He nods once. “I did. This place is… curated.” 

“Thanks,” I say, smiling. “Bit of a passion project, to be honest. When I started here, it looked more like a storage unit than a shop.” He chuckles, low and sincere. “Well, you’ve done a lovely job.” I scan the items, glancing at the book. It’s a copy of Letters to a Young Poet. The records are shoegaze and ambient post-rock. “Good taste,” I say as I turn the card reader toward him. “Not that I’m biased or anything.” His mouth quirks into a faint smile. “The song you were playing... just now. That was yours?” 

“Yes and no. It’s by Sleep Token. I just add my own flavor.” “I thought I recognized it,” he murmurs, tapping his card. “It sounded... different. In a good way. Like something meant to be heard up close.” I feel my cheeks warm. “Well,” I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “Sleep Token’s one of my favorites. It felt right to try to add my own flare. Adds texture.” He nods, eyes lingering on me a moment longer. “You play quite well.” There’s an awkward beat where we both half-smile and don’t quite know what to say next. 

“I’m-” he starts, then stops. Laughs lightly under his breath. “Sorry, that was going to be less weird in my head.” I tilt my head. “No, go on.” I say, the corner of my mouth tilting up slightly in curiosity. He glances to the side, then back at me. “I just... wondered if you’d be open to continuing this conversation sometime. Maybe over coffee? Purely platonic, of course. I’d just like to hear more about your musical interests; compare knowledge. If-if you’d be open to it, of course,” he finished, an awkward hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, a slight grimace passing over his face. 

My stomach flips, but I keep my tone light. “Are you always this charming, or is it just on Tuesdays?” I ask, grinning nervously, “Only when someone’s playing such a tasteful song when I walk into a room,” he says with a sheepish shrug. I chuckle and offer him my phone. “Well, for the sake of continued musical debates...” He takes it gently, entering his number. I enter mine into his when he offers his phone in return. We trade names, first only, and they both sound better said aloud than they did in my head. 

He takes his bag, gives me a soft “thank you” and a nod, and turns to leave. And then, the bell above the door jingles. He pauses and turns back on his heel. “Actually,” he says, stepping toward the counter again. “Would you... mind a recommendation?” I blink. “From me?” He nods. “Musically. I trust your ear.” 

I grin. “Okay. You into layered instrumentals? You might like Caspian. Or This Will Destroy You. I’ve got a playlist if you want it.” “I’d like that,” he says, a grin threatening to spill over onto his face. I grab a scrap of receipt paper and scribble down my Spotify handle and hand it to him. He tucks it into his coat pocket like it’s something important. 

Then finally, he goes, this time without turning back. I sit behind the counter long after he’s gone. Still holding my coffee. Still feeling that faint echo of something beginning. Not romantic, not yet. But possible, and that’s more than enough for now. 

[yodawgiheardyoulikemecha]

“Gundam Assemble is a tabletop strategy game where players use miniature Gunpla figures to create armies and engage in tactical battles,” said Tatsuro Kawashima, who built the mechanical system that the game is based on. “The core gameplay is focusing on the strategic unit placement, actually playing these objective-based missions. So it is designed to appeal to both hardcore miniatures gamers and the casual fan of the Gundam franchises. The game draws inspiration from miniature wargames — from 40K, to BattleTech, to Star Wars: Shatterpoint. Bandai is aiming to create an experience that’s accessible for new players while allowing strategic depth for the seasoned gamer.” Bandai explained that players will be in control of a Gundam team. They will then use that team to play through a story-driven campaign with objectives linking individual missions. “I think it’s most similar to BattleTech [...] but so far it’s a little bit difficult to [share] the details,” said Kawashima. “The basic concept is to play a big team featuring your favorite mobile suits. However, since this is a game based on Gundam IP, we also want to offer special scenarios, limited battles that evoke the original storyline to help the player to feel connected to the source material.” As far as terrain or other accessories, Bandai has not yet finalized what will come with Gundam Assemble The final product will likely include the game board, dice, and cards that show the details of each unit in-game — and in-fiction, including details like Gundam height. While hex-based movement is integral to the game at this time, Bandai said that it hasn’t ruled out other gameplay modes that use rulers or other tools to allow units to move more freely. That means massed battles of Gunpla could be on the horizon — but for now, at least, the company is laser-focused on this smaller footprint game. For the designers at Bandai, it was particularly important to translate the intricate detail of their large, elaborate models to the smaller size of a tabletop miniature. That meant actually making them a bit bigger than traditional 28 mm- or 32 mm-scale models. At 5 centimeters (roughly 2 inches) tall, each Gunpla miniature will tower over a traditional 40K Assault Intercessor, and will even have a bit of reach on a Captain in Gravis armor. They’re also very highly detailed. “Many of the models in this Assemble kit are based on existing High Grade Gunpla [kits],” said Jun Someya, a member of the Gundam Assemble planning and development staff. “In order to efficiently create cool poses with a small number of parts, the angle of the arms has been carefully adjusted. For parts that would not otherwise be visible, they were purposefully omitted or molded [in place].” Of course, most model-makers don’t paint their Gunpla. Tabletop gamers often do paint their miniatures, though, and Bandai is hoping its design will cater to their unique needs — especially folks who are looking to build up their “shelf army.” “We thought the size would satisfy customers who display their individual miniatures,” Someya said. “Also, the size would be perfect for painting Gundams, which have very small faces and armor plates. Maybe it would be bigger than other products, but we felt that 5 centimeters would be perfect for both these purposes.” Expect more information on Gundam Assemble soon. Early figures will be sold in special bundles with the Gundam Card Game — which Bandai confirmed is a completely separate product.

[jackied0minguez]

Remote Work Redefined: TopDevz CEO Ashkan Rajaee on the Future of Flexible Business

In a world where remote work has rapidly shifted from a temporary solution to a long-term strategy, TopDevz CEO Ashkan Rajaee is leading by example. Speaking ahead of the Ft. Lauderdale International Boat Show, Rajaee shared insights on how his company has seamlessly integrated remote operations into its DNA—and why he believes this model isn’t just a passing trend.

A New Kind of Software Solutions

TopDevz isn’t your typical tech firm. Comprising an elite team of software developers, designers, project managers, and quality assurance specialists based in the United States and Canada, the company tackles the unique challenges that conventional off-the-shelf software can’t resolve. Rajaee explains that while standard solutions can cover 80–90% of business needs, the remaining nuances often cause significant inefficiencies. TopDevz fills this gap by offering custom solutions designed to address those critical details, ensuring that their clients achieve peak operational efficiency. With an impressive 96% workforce retention rate and 63% of their business coming through referrals, the company’s model speaks volumes about its effectiveness and employee satisfaction.

Mastering Remote Operations

Long before the global pivot to remote work, TopDevz was already thriving in a fully virtual environment. Rajaee emphasizes that the success of remote operations lies in having the right infrastructure and clear communication channels. “Working remotely isn’t as simple as logging in from home,” he notes. “It demands disciplined processes and a commitment to best practices—elements we’ve honed over the years.” His team’s seamless transition during the pandemic only reinforced the idea that a well-organized remote workforce can outperform traditional office setups.

The Indefinite Future of Remote Work

For TopDevz, remote work isn’t a temporary workaround—it’s the future. Rajaee envisions a business landscape where companies can lower overhead costs while empowering employees to work from anywhere. This flexible model not only drives client satisfaction by reducing expenses but also enriches employees’ lives by allowing them to choose environments that inspire creativity and well-being.

Rajaee even shares a personal touch: his passion for working from a yacht. Equipped with reliable Wi-Fi and satellite services, his unconventional workspace symbolizes the freedom that remote work offers. “If your current job doesn’t support the lifestyle you aspire to, it’s time to consider other opportunities,” he advises. His own journey from renting a yacht to eventually making it part of his regular work life underscores the importance of aligning one’s career with personal values and ambitions.

Empowering the Next Generation of Remote Entrepreneurs

Beyond leading TopDevz, Rajaee is passionate about sharing his remote work philosophy. Through his “RemotePreneur” initiative, he provides aspiring entrepreneurs and professionals with a playbook for building successful remote companies. This resource addresses the nuanced challenges of remote business management—from overcoming financial stagnation in traditional roles to confronting the inevitable criticisms that come with venturing off the beaten path. Rajaee’s message is clear: true freedom in work comes from rethinking established norms and embracing the possibilities that remote operations can offer.

Embracing a New Era

As businesses around the globe continue to navigate the evolving work landscape, Ashkan Rajaee’s vision serves as a powerful reminder that remote work, when executed with precision and passion, can unlock unprecedented opportunities. His leadership at TopDevz demonstrates that with the right approach, remote operations can not only sustain but also drive innovation, employee satisfaction, and overall business growth.

In a time when flexibility and adaptability are more important than ever, Rajaee’s insights offer a compelling roadmap for companies eager to thrive in a remote-first world.

[thephonemenarentreal]

You rang, good technos? The Master Jeeves has arrived to provide the best in service for all parties!

On the Pleasure Cruise, the Jeeves are the serving staff. The bartenders, housekeeping, casino staff, pool staff...anything that has to deal with the customer service in the Conglomerates mobile cruise ship city. Each Jeeves Unit is trained vigorously under the watch of the Master Jeeves, who is the personal attendant to Mr. Venture.

Master Jeeves is a large camera, polished and poised and who will never let your glass go empty or your pillow unfluffed. Service is probably his first name!

MORE LORE UNDER THE CUT <3

Master Jeeves real name is not known or if he ever had one. What is known is that he is ex-Alliance and was part of the early assaults against the toilets but quickly joined the Conglomerate upon meeting Mr. Venture.

He prides himself on his impeccable manners, great service, and the best massages on the Pleasure Cruise. Always polite, never cusses, and remains poised. Makes very sensible little jokes and good humor. A master of wit, he is able to defeat sass soundly.

He is trained in combat and if he must, he will beat the living bolts out of someone who is being a hassle at a party, especially with honored guests and executive board members present.

He speaks several languages and makes a point to use the language that a guest most prefers.

The man moves fast for a large unit and very gracefully as he weaves in and out, balancing trays of alcohol like a tower on a plate in one hand to everyone.

The Jeeves unit was one of the first units created for the Conglomerate under Master Jeeves' tutelage and he has personally monitor the training of new units ever since.

He has also trained skibidis and humans into branches of the Jeeves unit to cater to the needs of other residents of the cruise.

Master Jeeves knows how to cook and cook very well. He is also a master of mixology, coming up with the new bar specials across the ship.

He also brews all the alcohol on the ship and tends to the expansive interior botanical gardens that are only open to those with executive permissions or are signed up for the rare tours of the gardens.

He and Mizzenmast are extremely close friends, both having a more stoic personality, putting guest enjoyment above all else, and also rather fed up with some people on board. They meet in the captain's helm to play cards every Thursday and chat.

He has a pair of brass knuckles to put on when he has to deal with the worse guests. But also has various large guns hidden around the party halls that he can pull out is need be.

Sometimes he plays old timey films on retro-film night from his actual head for the amusement of guests.

His massages are legendary and are said to relieve months of stress in mere moments under his firm, but gentle hands. Stress is his bitch and he shall sooth it away.

He can catch a falling stack of plates without breaking one. He can pull off a table cloth without knocking anything over. He can carry mountains of plates to a dining room without jostling a single one out of place. One unit tripped and their drink went flying and he caught the glass on a serving platter and the spilled drink back in the cup with the olive on top. The man is legendary for his service instincts.

He finds speakers amusing and their shenanigans amusing when they aren't on his staff. He is a bit more forgiving in telling them off.

He is VERY harsh on his Jeeves if they do anything that shames the name of the unit. This usually means banishing them to duties off the floor like doing laundry, cleaning the hull of the ship, or going down into the Bilges to tidy up. Those Jeeves in the last one tend to have a short shelf life...thus is the jobs for the failures.

However, if the mistake is on the customer, he does not subscribe to the idea that the customer is always right. He reviews the footage and if the customer is in the wrong, he will be merciless in putting their mistakes out there and ruining them for daring to accuse his staff of failure. How dare you.

People who don't tip their Jeeves get put on longer wait lists and have longer to wait for room service and if they complain to Master Jeeves he will point out their lack of gratitudes.

No one can plan a wedding like Master Jeeves. Every wedding he plans is a beautifully set affair, matching the tastes of those getting hitched, well catered, decorated, and he does an excellent job of making sure everything runs smoothly and even can officiate the ceremonies. Many units have a dream of having a Master Jeeves provided wedding...but they are expensive unless a favor is owed or you know someone with connections to get one.

Master Jeeves always remembers those who helped him and always likes to repay his debts. If it is in his power to help, he certainly will, even for those few faces from his brief Alliances days.

No one has been able to sass Master Jeeves. His dry wit and overwhelming sarcasm is unflappable. Also he will give the sassy what they want in the most literal sense, much to their horror or embarrassment.

Questioning his service or complaining will have him calling about Mizzenmast to go by a play by play of the customer's poor behavior, pointing out the flaws in their logic and televising it for all the ship to see. If he does make an actual mistake, he will accept it graciously and consider he owes that person a favor.

Apparently he is engaged but he neither confirms or denies this. Nor does anyone know who actually that person would be as no one has ever seen Master Jeeves off duty doing anything for fun. He's always in the company of the executive board members.

Jericho and Master Jeeves are friends, mostly as both know how to handle and communicate with the Recyclers and the others of their ilk. Just Master Jeeves does it better without getting injured or shot. They often need to work together professionally.

Master Jeeves is aware of Charybdis and delivers their mail and requests to their hangar and makes a point to not startle them. They also bluntly suggested that Charybdis stop having pointless dreams about the Alliance: "Unless you want to be reduced to a weapon meant only to fight, work, and little else,"

Some believe that Master Jeeves has a whole second life, changing his head and blending into the crowds when off duty which is why no one sees him off duty. The residents have been trying to prove or disprove this.

Master Jeeves might have been a camerawoman in his Alliance days, so it is said. When asked, Master Jeeves chuckles and simply says, "When you make a change in life, sometimes best to change everything to how you wish to be after the assembly line did things wrong,"

His opinion on the Alliance is rather neutral, as he sees them as any military, although he notes that in his experience, there is a habit of the higher ups to see units, especially those mass produced for combat as "little more than canon fodder"

Master Jeeves says he does have relatives in the Alliance though, although he doesn't keep in contact with them. "A gossipy pair of brats on my sister's side..."

Master Jeeves has a really uncanny ability to know where TVs are going to teleport into and stand behind them to ask if he can help them, giving them a jumpscare every time. How he does it, he merely says, "It was obvious of course. When has a TV not gone for the dramatics or snooping angle of entering an establishment?"

Master Jeeves is the only Jeeves that knows the mixes for the "secret Titan mixed drinks" that are only served to semi-titans and titans at any given party. The mix is specially crafted for their large sizes without sacrificing pleasant flavors.

The fact that Master Jeeves has cherries big enough to put in a Titan's drink is a testament to his adherence to having class in everything he does.

Master Jeeves has no regrets about leaving the Alliance, having not been in it long enough to have many attachments and certainly no desire to serve in the combat. He states dryly he gets more respect serving drinks and fluffing pillows than he did in a single day in the Alliance. "I choose whom I offer services to and what I wish to do, and this makes me happy and I do not feel like I am hardware to be used. What more is there to inquire about?"

[chelseeebe]

addict.

a/n: this has been in drafts for LONGGG and is basically a continuation of shameless. i wanted to post something because ive been slacking with writing and ideas so i hope this suffices lol

18+. smut. cheating whoops. it’s a tiny bit angsty i guess but it’s happy in the end bc we all love that don’t we

listened to bathroom - montell fish writing this ;)

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

‘so what’re you doing tonight?’ connor asks, eyes soft as he leans against the metal shelving unit, finally getting a free moment without customers.

‘uh.. nothi-,’ you’re cut off by a curious steve, bounding down the aisle to intervene in your potential plans, slinging his arm around your shoulder, smug grin plastered on his face.

‘oh no she’s busy tonight,’ his face twisting into a sarcastic, not-really-sorry expression, ‘sorry bud,’ shrugging as his hand dangerously nears your breast.

‘steve- you’re..’ you look back to a disappointed connor, his eyebrows raised, not prepared to argue with steve over this, ‘maybe another day?’ offering him an apologetic smile, swatting steve’s wandering hand away.

‘ahh.. yeah yeah, sure,’ connor nods, disappointment in his voice as he backs off, trotting down the aisle, leaving you with a cocky steve who’s hand had already found it’s way back to your chest.

you glare up at him, ‘you’re such an asshole,’ you bite, pulling yourself from his grip, justifiably annoyed by his cock-blocking.

‘don’t tell me you actually wanted to go out with him? besides, you are busy tonight,’ he smirks, reaching out to grab onto your waist, closing the space between you in a few short steps.

‘oh yeah? what am i doing tonight then?’ raising your eyebrow as your back presses against the cold metal of the shelf, steve’s hungry eyes leering down at yours.

you weren’t really mad at him. it wasn’t like you didn’t want to go out with connor, it was just that you were sure he wanted something more.. serious. and you weren’t exactly sure how to let him down gently.

‘well me hopefully,’ steve grins, his fingers loosely pulling your cheap, polyester work shirt up. your hand clamps down on top of his, well aware that you were still in work.

you push his chest with your free hand, keeping a stoic expression, ‘is that so? daisy’s at work then?’ his fingers grip onto your shirt, keeping you close.

he rolls his eyes, ‘yeah, she is.. i’ll be outside at five, up to you if you wanna come,’ wiggling his eyebrows, already certain that you weren’t saying no.

you purse your lips together, faux-pondering, ‘ugh, you’re so romantic,’ keeping your hand on top of his as he moves in again, fingers gripping your fleshy hips.

‘if you want romance, i can give you romance.. you just gotta give me a chance baby,’ his head dips, careless about where you were and who could see you.

‘get off of me,’ you scoff, pushing him back once more, managing to wriggle from his hold and backing up the aisle.

‘i’ll see you at five,’ he calls out after you, grinning to himself as he watches your hips move as you walk off.

-

sure enough he’s in the parking lot when you walk out at five, leaning against his car with a boastful smile as he watches connor walk off to his own car and you walk over to his. he’d won and there wasn’t even a contest.

‘you don’t need to rub it in,’ poking him in the shoulder as you open the passenger door, glaring at him before sliding into the leather seat.

he follows, tongue peaking out over his bottom lip as he gets into the car, ‘i didn’t even say anything,’ holding his hands up in innocence.

‘you didn’t have to,’ shaking your head. granted, connor was a little desperate but that didn’t mean steve had to be a prick about it.

the drive to his place is rather intense, you’d had half a mind to just get him to pull over somewhere on one of the back roads. his fingers creeping from your knee and somehow ending up between your thighs, teasing your clothed cunt as he drove. watching you squirm in the passenger seat with a sickening smirk on his face the entire time.

‘what the fuck?’ he exclaims, free hand hitting the steering wheel as he pulls into his driveway.

your eyes springing open to find daisy’s car parked haphazardly in front of steve’s, ‘i thought you said she wasn’t here?’ jutting your bottom lip out, disappointed and now worked up with no release.

‘she’s not supposed to be,’ he complains, ‘fuuuck,’ hitting the steering wheel again, ‘d’you think she’s seen me? we could go to..’ trailing off as your eyes follow his to see daisy peering out of the door, probably why her boyfriend was taking so long to get inside.

his hand shoots from your thigh, flashing her a feeble smile. you feel like a colossal bitch, clambering out of the car to give her a short wave.

maybe you should have taken connor up on his offer after all.

-

going out with the entire gang could never go well. especially not when daisy had tagged along, sitting next to steve like a lost puppy dog, not understanding any of the niche inside jokes and thankfully not catching on to the reckless looks steve had been slinging your way.

there’s only one dinghy little club in hawkin’s, so that’s where you went. dancing on the sticky vinyl floor, with a glass of watered down vodka in your hand. nancy and robin dancing alongside, they liked to act like they hadn’t a clue what was going on, but you knew steve had slipped up once or twice and perhaps you hadn’t been as quiet as you’d thought you were that one time you’d all stayed at nancy’s.

it didn’t matter though, neither of them wanted the hassle of getting involved. confident that whatever was happening would resolve itself one way or another.

their eyes gave enough away anyway, watching intently as steve saunters across the dance floor, running his hand along the small of your back as he walked through the crowd to the tiny, shared bathroom cubicle at the other end of the room. there was no need to even look at each other. you knew the drill.

waiting a mere few minutes before following him past the crowds of dancing patrons, promising nance that you’d be back in a few minutes and she could have the rest of your drink if she wanted. you wouldn’t normally be so brash and careless about what you were doing but after a few drinks and the massive cock-block daisy had given you the other day, you could not have cared less.

rapping your knuckles against the splintered wood door twice and waiting for the lock to slide open before slipping inside. steve pouncing on you the second you’re inside, one hand fumbling to lock the door as the other grips onto your waist, back hitting the ceramic basin as his lips press against yours rather hungrily.

there’s hardly enough time to catch your breath before the lock is jammed into place and the previously free hand is sliding up your thigh and under the tight skirt that may have only worn to piss him off.

‘jesus.. steve..’ you manage to get out between kisses, fingers curling into his hair while you struggle to get onto the sink, using the back of his neck to hoist yourself up.

‘i can’t help it.. couldn’t wait,’ he murmurs, digging tiny half-circles into the squishy skin on your hips, angling them towards his, moving down to attack your neck, teeth grazing against your jaw bone.

his lips press against your neck, peppering sloppy kisses to the sensitive skin, breath hot as his hips press against yours. the denim of his jeans pressing against your thighs, hooking your legs around his waist to keep him close.

‘fuuck, i would.. do.. anything for you,’ he breathes between kisses, already losing his composure and he wasn’t even inside of you yet.

your fingernails digging into his tense shoulders, ‘shut up,’ groaning as his erection brushes against your sensitive clit through your panties, the thump of the music outside of the tiny room growing.

his movements are antagonistically slow, you weren’t sure if he was teasing or just trying to make himself last long enough that you wouldn’t laugh at him.

‘i’m serious.. i want you,’ he murmurs, moving back up to level with your face, pupils dilated in a mix of lust and intoxication, jaw slack as pink tongue peaks out to wet his lips.

‘show me,’ pressing your forehead to his, grazing your fingernails down his lean back, tugging at the material in an attempt to hurry him.

sure, steve was always trying to convince you to fall in love with him but it increased tenfold after a drink. if you’d only say the word, he’d storm out of this bathroom and breakup with daisy in front of everyone. but you wouldn’t. and honestly? if she couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on by this point, then maybe she deserved it.

‘i will.. i will,’ he repeats, fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to keep his eyes on yours while he does so, prolonging the entire process as his drunken fingers struggle to undo the metal.

‘steve?’ daisy’s muffled voice calls from the other side of the door, barely audible over the music, ‘steve?’ knuckles now banging on the door.

you can’t contain the eye roll that follows, keeping him between your legs as the knocking persists. his jaw gritting in determination to get this damn belt undone, despite the fact his girlfriend is very much stood on the other side of the door.

‘i’ll be out in a minute,’ he calls out, your body tensing in response, if he’d just shut his mouth, she would’ve fucked off soon enough.

‘oh, you are in there.. i wanna go home.. i’m tired,’ she complains through the wood. his fingers finally get a grip on the buckle, sliding it undone and hurriedly tugging his jeans and boxers down together, resting on his large thighs.

‘okay..’ sucking the air between his teeth as your legs widen around him, pulling your lacy panties to the side, positioning himself at your already soaked entrance, ‘i-i’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?’

his hand clamps over your mouth before pushing himself into your cunt, his own groan strangling in his throat at the feeling of your warmth, disgusting the noise with a half-assed cough. your hand coming to grip onto his wrist, the other holding onto the white basin as he begins to move slowly.

‘well.. no, are you not coming with me? i don’t wanna go alone..’ she grumbles, though you aren’t paying attention to anything else right now, focussing on containing the explicit moans from escaping through his hand.

‘ohhh christ.. no, no.. you go- i’m staying,’ his glossy eyes don’t falter, the hand that had held your hip coming to rest on your thigh, thumb extending out to rub circles around your throbbing clit causing your mouth to open further against his palm.

‘what? what are you doing in there? can i just come in?’ the door handle rattling as daisy grows impatient. you wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear the filthy sound of your cunt around him, balls slapping against the flesh of your ass.

‘no! no fuck no,’ his hand leaving your mouth to hold the wriggling door knob, keeping it firmly shut as his pace begins to falter, the conversation with his fucking girlfriend working in his favour to stop him coming so prematurely.

you’re forced to bury your face into his neck, soft whines vibrating the skin as your own orgasm fast approaches, the familiar feeling in your stomach growing. his thumb relentlessly circling your clit despite the circumstances.

‘steve wha- why can’t i come in?’ daisy persists, steve’s hand grabbing onto the door in pure frustration.

‘just go,’ he sounded desperate, pleading with her to leave before he came and she most definitely would’ve found out what or who he was actually doing in here.

your fingertips press into the cotton t-shirt on his back, mewling into the stubble on his jaw as you’re brought over the edge. head going dizzy as you clench around him, pleasure overcoming every single one of your limbs. if you hadn’t a death grip on the sink, you were sure you would’ve ended up on the floor.

you can hear daisy huff from outside, but the rattling stops and you hope to god that means she’s finally fucked off. feeling brave enough to let out an audible moan into his neck, just about coming back to earth.

‘cum in me,’ you babble, unsure of where the hell that had come from but still instinctively tightening your legs around his back, keeping him pressed against you as he gives you a few pathetic last thrusts, painting your walls with thick ropes of cum.

the sound out of his mouth is ungodly, thick and husky as his knees buckle, his body collapsing into yours, hot and sweaty, just a complete mess while he regains his strength. mouth open against your cheek, panting and gripping your hips.

craning your neck to press your lips to his, pulling his face to meet yours properly. it’s slow and tender even as his cum drips out of you and onto the grubby bathroom floor.

‘holy shit,’ he breathes into your mouth, feeling the smirk forming against your lips. it’s moments like these that have you questioning if did actually love him or not.

just completely enamoured by the way he looks, so pussy drunk and pupils damn near shaped like hearts as they gazed at you. you think you could. you really could.

he’s still panting for breath when you push him off of you, stumbling backwards into the adjacent wall. drunkenly fumbling with his belt as you hop off of the basin, rubbing the tender skin where the tap had dug into your spine.

‘you go first,’ you nod, tapping his arm, ‘i need to.. clean up,’ trying desperately to hide the smile on your face.

he stops for a moment, flashing that lop-sided smile that had you stumbling over your words. ‘okay.. you want a drink?’ running lazy fingers through his skewed hair, it was useless when everyone in the club would know immediately what had gone down.

you nod, shooing him out of the tiny room before you jumped his bones again. ashamedly pulling your skirt back down to a respectable length. you’re both terrible people, you know that.

and yet, you can’t stop yourself. he’s like an addiction that you’d never be able to rid yourself of. regardless of how many people and how many lives you both fucked up in the process.

-

you’re just about ready to wake steve up yourself. his snoring had been driving you crazy all night and now it was already afternoon and he was still fast asleep next to you. desperate to interrogate him on the things he’d said last night, his intoxicated confession.

he eventually stirs, so you take the opportunity to nudge his arm, pulling him from his sleep fully. groaning as he comes around, expecting daisy to be the one poking and prodding him.

‘uhh.. wait, what the fuck? what’re you doing here?’ voice groggy and deep as his smile peaking out from the pillow, arm extending out to wrap around your waist.

‘well someone had to make sure you didn’t die last night,’ rolling your eyes but still leaning in to his touch, grateful to no longer be sat listening to his horrific snores.

‘that bad?’ he groans, shoving his face back into the pillow.

‘oh yeah,’ stoic in your expression, ‘you got kicked out.. started screaming at the bouncer and then-,’ he grimaces, loudly groaning. large hand hiding his face from your judgemental eyes.

‘and then, you told nancy you were in love with me so uhh.. i think we’ve been rumbled,’ glaring at him from your position on the other side of the bed, not impressed with his antics.

‘well..’ he shrugs, feeling his fingers begin to toy with the shirt you’d borrowed, ‘was gonna happen sooner or later, wasn’t it?’ lifting his head up, gazing at you from squinted eyes.

‘not love though, steve.’

you can feel him tense up, sniffing as he looks away, ‘i was drunk.. it’s not- it doesn’t mean anything,’ a failed attempt at nonchalance.

‘so you don’t?’ looking at him earnestly, his face still half-hidden in the pillow.

you’d had enough time to reflect on his drunken declaration and quite honestly, you weren’t sure exactly how to feel about it. it wasn’t like it wasn’t pretty obvious that he felt that way towards you, but now that it was actually out there, was there any way for you to continue the odd relationship you shared?

‘i.. does it matter? you’re still gonna fuck me anyway so we should just forget i ever said anything,’ his hand disappears up underneath the t-shirt you’d stolen, his hands cold as they find their way higher, a pathetic attempt to distract you.

‘maybe i won’t.. steve- stop,’ becoming increasingly frustrated with him, ‘tell me.’

he sighs, contemplating his options as his wandering hand halts, ‘okay, and if i say i am in love with you, then what? you’re gonna tell me that it’d never happen and i’ll go back to daisy and then in two months this’ll start again.. it’s stupid,’ his eyes finally meet yours again, ‘i told you, it doesn’t change anything.’

you pause for a moment, studying his face through narrowed eyes. it was fairly obvious that he was trying to just brush this off, and no matter what you said, it wouldn’t make an ounce of difference. he was right though. you could end this today and go your separate ways for a little while but you both knew it wouldn’t last long before you were sneaking off at work and inevitably breaking some other poor girl’s heart.

you swallow, feeling his hand slither from under your shirt, watching as he props himself up against the pillow, already certain how this conversation was going to end.

‘were you telling the truth?’

his eyes close and you’re not sure why but his lips twitch into a tiny smile, ‘yeah,’ running a hand through the mop of hair on his head, already messy from sleep, ‘you knew that though, didn’t you? you know i’d fucking-,’ he exhales through his nose, ‘i’d do anything if you just asked me to,’ his shoulders slumping in defeat.

your heart pounds in your chest, the mere thought of leaving this room, leaving steve for god knows how long felt like the worst possible way for this to end. apprehensive to go any further but still terrified to end this in any other way.

‘you know how i feel about this.. i’m not..’ struggling to find the appropriate words, ‘i don’t know how to be in a relationship, you deserve someone that does.’

this is what you do. pushing away anyone that expresses even a semblance of interest in you. it’s a knack at this point.

he exhales, ‘i’m not asking you to marry me for fuck sake, i just wanna give this a shot and who knows? maybe we’ll get married and have six kids or.. or maybe we’ll end up hating each other but fuck- i wanna try,’ his hand reaches over to sit on top of yours, he’s pleading with you almost.

the bile rises in your throat, you can’t go on for much longer denying the way you felt towards him. it’s scary and you’re not sure if you can even formulate the words needed to tell him but maybe you should try. perhaps you would end up in a loveless marriage or maybe you’d crash and burn immediately. but maybe now you’re willing to try.

you sit like that in the silence for what felt like hours and eventually the only thing you can think of saying was, ‘..what about daisy?’

his eyes roll into the back of his head, groaning at the sheer mention of her name, ‘she’s gone, christ i’ll do it right now,’ his hand fumbles for the phone on his night stand, holding it up in front of your face, ‘tell me and i will.’

your mouth opens but no words come out, his clammy hand squeezing yours in one last hopeless attempt to convince you. watching his normally bright eyes falter as you remain silent.

‘do it.. break up with her,’ nodding as sign of encouragement, still wary of the decision you’d made but deciding that whatever might come from this couldn’t be as bad as being the reason another unsuspecting girl got her heart broke.

‘you’re serious?’

‘yeah,’ breathing out for what felt like the first time this morning, ‘i think we should try.’

and lord knows, if it really did all come tumbling down, that you’d get your karma one day and you couldn’t be mad.