#galaxy folder

[techsection]

Samsung Galaxy Folder 2

#samsung #samsunggalaxy

[internetc00kie]

2021 Samsung Galaxy Folder 2

[sanicmaster]

STIMKY

[latgbg]

Are there concepts/designs of the cast's every family member? Can we see them?

Not every family member, but here’s a few bits of concept art from the archives! 📂

[p2ii]

dumb phone obsession is back the urge to replace my phone with a flip phone how I've missed you

[jessicas-pi]

Ben has kind of been having the worst day of his life, what with the dying and all.

It’s a marked improvement when he’s tramping through the forests of Takodana and a familiar voice demands, “Would you believe me if I told you Palpatine was my grandfather?”

He turns around.

Stares.

Rey stands ten feet away, her blaster pointed at him, a challenge in her eyes.

“Would you believe me if I told you Han Solo was my father?” he says, answering the question with a question.

“Yes,” she says, lowering the blaster.

“Well, that answers that,” he replies, turning off his lightsaber.

The silence stretches on.

Takodana is unpleasantly hot.

Why did he ever think wearing all-black was a suitable fashion choice?

Rey falters, apparently not having planned what to say if she got this far. “I suppose this is where we save the galaxy.”

“I suppose so,” he agrees. “To Exogol, then?”

“Have you got the Wayfinder already?” she asks, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“Picked it up on the way here.”

“Ah. That simplifies things.” She holsters her blaster and sets off at a brisk pace, adding as she brushes past him: “And try not to die this time. It was so inconvenient.”

“You died first,” he mutters.

[loumybeloved]

getting a dumb phone that supports tumblr so i can write fanfic on that stupid 🫵 keypad i’ll be clicking away in threes

[glindalesbian]

top 10 tierachel AUs >:)

incredible prompt that made me comb through like a crazy number of google docs OKAY in no particular order:

IMMEDIATELY cas michael murray came to mind.

T V A D K I N S

crowleydeanbenny and its infinite variants. we did good work there. we'll always have benny's house by the sea...and blood in the coffee and cocktails.......

On that ot3 note, every version of JTJ, but that's a cop out. I was JUST thinking specifically about pond hockey au where jack is a magician at childrens birthday parties and jamie works at the library and trevor works in finance sdlkgjsdkgl i am ALWAYS thinking about that universe

Brice Graham The Horny Deputy From Hibbing 911 Extended Universe but ESPECIALLY the one where he has a threesome with dean and crowley

We honestly had so many good drowley AUs goddddd I am particularly thinking abt kings of hell where dean continues to be a demon and they take over hell together. wait didn't i literally make an amv for this. did i ever post that. anyway Dean Smith: Murderer also goes here and i love it.

COYOTE TREVOR!!!!! and the whole associated au where the NTDP boys all shapeshift into different animals <3

I had forgotten about the Samandriel lives and becomes besties with Kevin au but my GOD that was good fucking stuff

hey we literally have too many to even fit into just a top ten i want to talk about the goofy ass regency au where mitch has been promised to john tavares but runs off to be with matt martin who does woodworking and is also a boxer. but i also want to talk about the WESTERN AU which had like every ship under the sun and was some of your finest work truly

the randy anderson memorial trophy and charity golf tournament universe

[galaxythedragonshifter]

Me, wanting to make a FNAF SB oc, whilst also struggling with anthro character design.

[local-vastard]

my tablet just had an update and they ruined the ui

it so ugly help,,, i have to complain

bring back the old one wtf >:(

[crustyguybodylotion]

not being able to use tumblr on my new phone might be the only reason i don’t sell this one for parts

[szepkerekkocka]

Adalék: valamikor 2023 végén feltalálták a Samsung Secure Folder appot, ami alapértelmezetten telepítésre került a soron következő frissítéssel.

A Secure Folder egyik fícsöre, hogy a telepített appokat is egy védett helyre teszi - így konkrétan az adb package manager, ami a 0 (root) userrel operál, nem éri el őket, mert a Secure Folderbe telepített appokhoz csak a 150-es user fér hozzá.

A gyári bloatware természetesen a Secure Folderbe kerül.

Megfejtés:

rootolni kell a készüléket :-/

Uninstallod a Secure Foldert, elintézed, amit akarsz a package management környékén, reinstallod a Secure Foldert.

Hogyan kell uninstallni a Secure Foldert:

bloatware

Az alany egy friss, ropogós céges Samsung S22, súlyos százezrekbe volt. Kb. 3-4 hét után most jutottam el odáig, hogy letakarítottam (na jó, inkább csak disabledbe raktam) rajta mindent, ami tök feleslegesnek tűnt.

~130 app (Settings szerint) ~70 amit helyben hagytam ~5 amit különösebb flanc nélkül felületről uninstallni tudtam ~60 amit ADB-vel kellett disabledre rakni

Azaz csaknem fifti-fifti a hasznos-szemét.

Források hozzá.

Android StackExchange: https://stackoverflow.com/questions/23081263/adb-android-device-unauthorized

Developer Options hogyan kapcsolható be: https://developer.android.com/studio/debug/dev-options#enable

ADB package manager referencia: https://developer.android.com/tools/adb#pm

Hogyan deríthető ki a kiiktatandó appid:

A telefonon levő összes package lekérdezhető referenciának:

adb shell pm list packages --user 0

2. Ha az app Google Play Store-ból jön, akkor benne lesz az URL GET paraméterei között, pl.: https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.android.chrome

3. Ha Galaxy Store-ból jön, az már nagyobb szívás, legtöbb bloatware simán böngészőből keresve Galaxy Store-ban nem található meg. Ami igen, ott az URL-ben nem fog szerepelni az appid. De. Ha a Settings / App info / App details in store-ra nyomunk, majd a jobb felső csücsökben a Share-re, akkor kapunk egy olyan URL-t, amiben szintén szerepel az appid: https://galaxystore.samsung.com/prepost/000006456173?appId=com.samsung.android.bixby.agent

4. A maradékot meg kínkeservesen egyesével kell webszörcsölni.

Mellesleg a Galaxy Store review szekciók az appok jelentős részénél tele vannak a bloatware miatti gyalázkodással.

Asszem ez lesz az utolsó Samsung telefonom, fenének se kell ez a pokoljárás minden új készüléknél.

[stargrillzz]

THE BOY IS MINE

SUMMARY: You were never one to share what was yours, and Bob…he's yours.

NOTE: Inspired by the song The Boy is Mine, Ariana Grande. xoxo

GET LOST

The Thunderbolts Tower common room was unusually quiet for once, bathed in golden afternoon light as it streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The shadows stretched across the hardwood, lazy and warm, while the hum of high-tech equipment buzzed low in the background.

You were draped across the main couch like it owed you rent, legs flung over the armrest, phone in one hand, a lazy smirk tugging at your mouth as you pretended to scroll. But your eyes? Your eyes were fixed on him.

Bob Reynolds.

The Sentry.

Or, as you liked to call him when no one was around: your favorite problem.

He stood by the windows, arms folded, his expression calm and faraway, like his mind was somewhere in a galaxy no one else could reach. His golden hair was tied back, a few loose strands brushing his temple, and the white tee stretched over his broad chest like it had a grudge. Everything about him was infuriatingly quiet, controlled, soft-spoken—except for the way he made your blood rush hot.

You’d been friends since he joined the Thunderbolts. You were the fireball—mouthy, hotheaded, always tossing flirty remarks like grenades. He was… Bob. Sweet. Shy. Somehow not entirely aware of just how pretty he was.

And it was so fun to mess with him.

Except this wasn’t messing anymore. You’d fallen. Hard. And the only way you knew how to cope with it was to flirt until someone combusted.

So when Mel walked in—Team Liaison, model-walk, surgically perfect blouse—you instantly clocked the way her eyes locked onto Bob like a missile system.

“Hey, Bob,” she said sweetly, holding a folder. “I’ve got the report updates for the Kyiv mission. I can walk you through—”

Absolutely not.

You were up before you even knew what you were doing, striding across the room with a forced smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You stepped right between them, chest high, chin lifted.

“I’ll take that,” you said, snatching the folder out of her hands like it was your goddamn birthright.

Mel blinked. “Uh—I was actually hoping to go over the intel with—”

You smiled wider. “Yeah, no. He’s busy.”

Her brows twitched. She looked at Bob, who blinked in confusion, then back at you.

You didn’t flinch. “Get lost.”

A long pause. Her mouth opened and closed once, then—tight-lipped—she turned on her heel and walked out without another word.

Silence.

Then Bob shifted behind you, voice quiet and confused.

“...Why did you do that?”

You turned toward him, holding the folder like a trophy and cocking your hip out. “Didn’t like her getting in your space.”

He blinked at you, clearly flustered. “But she just—she had the report. It wasn’t—”

“I know what it was,” you said, waving the folder. “But I don’t like people bringing you things unless it’s me. I’m territorial.” you said with your thick accent.

He opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then did a double take when your smirk widened.

“Besides,” you added smoothly, stepping just a little closer to him, voice lowering, “if anyone’s gonna hand you something, and be all alone with you in a room, it’s gonna be me and only me”

Bob made a strangled sound.

You watched the blush spread fast across his face, all the way to his ears. He stepped back slightly like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or combust.

You tilted your head, teasing. “What? You gonna go shy on me now, baby? You take hits from alien gods, but a little filthy daydream gets you flustered?”

“I’m not—” he said quickly, but his voice cracked halfway through.

You licked your bottom lip, slow and deliberate, and purred, “I could sit on your lap right now and read this whole report out loud—naked—and you wouldn’t stop me, would you?”

His jaw dropped. “What—no—I mean—yes—I mean—wait—!”

Your laughter bubbled out, absolutely delighted, your eyes burning into his.

“You’re so easy to mess with,” you teased, your voice warm but sharp like honey with a blade in it. “I swear, Bob, the day I climb on top of you, I’m gonna need to strap you down. You’d shake apart.”

His mouth worked silently for a moment, like his soul had left his body.

And from the bar, Yelena—who had been sipping her coffee with one eyebrow raised the whole time—finally snorted.

“Leave the poor guy alone,” she called, laughing. “You’ll make him explode—and not in the good way.”

You turned to her, grinning like the devil, then looked back at Bob. His eyes were wide, face flushed, and chest rising a little too fast.

Your tone dropped again, soft but dangerous.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered just for him. “When I do make you explode... you’ll beg me for it.”

His head tilted slightly back, eyes fluttering like he was fighting for air.

You winked. Turned. Walked away slow, with hips swinging like you meant it.

Behind you, Bob stayed frozen—staring at your retreating form like he was trying to remember how legs worked—while Yelena muttered under her breath with a smirk, “Dead man walking.”

PINKIE PRINCESS

The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but the kitchen in Thunderbolts Tower glowed with the gentle light of dawn. Soft orange-gold poured through the tall windows, catching on the countertops and flickering across the stainless steel appliances. The only sounds were the quiet clinks of utensils and the faint hiss of the stovetop.

You were standing barefoot in front of the stove, humming lazily as you stirred the pan. A few strips of bacon sizzled while a half-cracked egg rested nearby. The smell was heavenly.

You hadn’t bothered changing out of your pajamas. Why would you? Everyone was still asleep—or so you thought. You wore your favorite set this morning: a sheer, baby-pink satin slip dress, barely reaching mid-thigh, trimmed with tiny lace at the hem. The fabric was so light it floated with every movement, brushing against your skin like a whisper. No bra, no shame. Just sleepy eyes, messy hair, and a devilish smile.

Behind you, the door creaked open.

You glanced back over your shoulder, and your breath caught for a moment.

Bob.

He stepped in quietly, wearing gray sweatpants and a white tee that clung to his torso like it was made for sin. His hair was messy and loose, soft waves brushing the collar of his shirt, and his eyes—those gentle blue eyes—locked onto you with a look you weren’t used to seeing from him.

He didn’t speak at first.

Just watched you, soft smile curling the edge of his lips, like you were the only thing in the whole damn world worth looking at. His gaze wandered—hesitant, almost reverent—from your bare legs up the curve of your hips, the way the satin clung to your back, your shoulders, your neck. His throat bobbed when he swallowed.

You turned fully now, keeping one hand on the counter behind you for balance. “Well, look who’s up early.”

His voice came out low, still warm from sleep. “Smelled bacon.”

You smirked, looking him up and down, eyes full of mischief. “Of course. It’s always the meat that gets you out of bed.”

That got a bashful little chuckle from him. His hand rubbed the back of his neck as he stepped closer, eyes briefly flicking down to your outfit again before darting back up, embarrassed—but not denying himself the look.

You crossed your arms under your chest lazily, which only served to push your breasts up and together, soft flesh spilling just slightly against the thin satin. Bob’s eyes lingered, just for a moment. You saw it.

“You sleep okay?” you asked, your voice laced with sugar and something darker.

He nodded. “Better than I thought I would.”

Then, after a pause—voice barely above a murmur—he said, “Your pajamas are cute. Pink suits you.”

You tilted your head, your smile widening with predatory delight. “Oh? Do you wanna find out what else is pink?”

Bob’s eyes widened just a little—and for a moment you thought you’d made him shut down again.

But then...

“Actually,” he said slowly, a flicker of something new in his tone, “I do.”

You blinked.

“What else do you have that’s pink?”

It was confident. Almost. But his fingers twitched slightly at his sides, and you could see the way his chest rose and fell just a little faster. He was still nervous. Still sweet. But something inside him had finally snapped—and it made your stomach twist with heat.

You let the silence stretch between you, stunned but amused.

A slow grin spread across your lips. “Bob Reynolds,” you breathed, “I didn’t know you could be such a pervert.”

He shrugged one shoulder, but he was watching you—really watching now. Hungry. Curious. Like he’d been holding something back for months, and your teasing had finally carved enough cracks in the dam to let it through.

You leaned forward against the counter, letting your arms support your weight so that your breasts pressed forward, full and soft and perfectly outlined through the barely-there satin.

His breath hitched.

“Oh, baby,” you said softly, “You’re staring.”

He didn’t deny it.

You tilted your head, voice syrupy and low. “Why don’t you come over here and find out?”

The moment froze.

Bob hesitated for half a heartbeat. Then—shy, yes, but with something solid in his step—he started toward you.

No looking back. No regret.

You let him come close, your heart thudding loud behind your ribs as he reached you. His hands came up slowly, cautiously—then settled around your waist, big and warm and possessive. He looked at your mouth like he’d never wanted anything more in his life.

You didn’t wait.

You crashed forward, lips colliding with his in a fierce, hungry kiss. His hands tightened instantly, pulling you against him as your body hit the counter with a soft thump. You moaned into his mouth—open, needy—fingers clutching at his shirt as he kissed you like he meant it, like this had been burning in him too long.

The tension snapped between you in waves—months of teasing, touching, longing—all unraveling as his mouth claimed yours.

It wasn’t shy anymore.

It was desperate.

And it was just the beginning.

Each collision between your lips made the kiss more and more passionate. More ferocious. More hungry. Bob's large hands slowly moved from your waist to your ass, lifting you as if you weighed nothing and sitting you on the counter. The kiss slowed down a bit, more lascivious, more erotic, and as if it were a brief but detailed explanation of how he's about to leave you unable to walk for months. Slowly, you begin to remove his shirt, at the same time he lowers the straps of your dress, not taking it off, just leaving your delicious tits.

"Can I… please…" Breathlessly, Bob did his best to formulate those three words.

"They're yours, baby," you smile flirtatiously.

His mouth took in one of your breasts completely, kneading the other with his hand, following a precise rhythm. Soft, but intense.

"I really love it when you touch me," you whisper, "but I need you to fuck me, like right now." Your hands began to slide down his panties. Honestly, the size wasn't a surprise; you'd always suspected it.

"Do you want it inside?" Bob asks, revealing a side of him you didn't think existed. "Do you want me to bury it deep inside you?" "I'll beg you if I have to." Your face at this point was pained by how needy you were.

He lifts your dress a little, surprised. "I told you I had something pinker," you whisper. "Be a man, Bob, destroy this dripping pink pussy."

Without even giving you time to process his movements, his cock was already inside you, making you fall back in your arms, throwing your head back even further, your legs fully open for him. "Oh my god, so big," you slur your words slightly. Still leaning back in your arms on the counter, you watch the hard, brutal way Bob thrusts into you, the way he moves in and out of you, the way Bob moans deeply, feeling better than he has in years.

"None of the times I masturbated thinking about you compare to fucking you and hearing you moan."

That got you even wetter. The thought of him touching himself thinking about you. Shit.

"Harder, Bob, I can take it." You didn't even finish that sentence, and a strong thrust made you feel his cock deep in your stomach, making you scream.

"I'm going to fill you up with my babies" he says between wet kisses I'm going to take you to my room "another kiss" and I'm going to fuck you again until you can't take it anymore.

"I wanna ride you so bad" you whispered, kissing him. He turned it on so much that he squeezed your ass hard, pounding into you faster, making you scream.

And that’s exactly when the door slammed open.

“Okay, people, we’ve got the—HOLY SHIT!”

John Walker’s voice cracked through the kitchen like an explosion.

You both froze.

Bob’s body went completely stiff between your thighs, and your eyes widened in horror.

Behind John, Yelena let out a sharp yelp—“OH MY GOD!”—and immediately slapped a hand over her eyes, turning around so fast her braid whipped across Valentina’s chest.

Val, meanwhile, stood frozen in the doorway for a full second too long, blinking like she was trying to reboot.

“Are you kidding me?” she finally barked, turning sharply on her heel. “The kitchen counter?! Where people eat?!”

Bob, bright red, stumbled back so fast he almost knocked over the coffee pot. “Shit—I—this isn’t—fuck—I didn’t know—!”

You tugged the hem of your dress down over your thighs, breathing fast, lips kiss-swollen, eyes wild with adrenaline. “You guys don’t knock?!”

“This is a public space!” John yelled from outside the door, his voice half disgusted, half traumatized. “For breakfast! For toast! Not for—” He made a gagging sound.

Yelena was cackling now, muffled by her hands. “Leave it to you two to desecrate the one clean surface in this damn building.”

Bob, flustered beyond measure, dragged a hand through his hair, his shirt rucked up halfway to his chest, exposing his firm stomach. “I’m—I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I just… she said—we were talking about pink things—!”

“Oh my God,” Yelena shrieked from the hallway, “Please STOP explaining! I can never eat eggs again!”

Val’s voice came in, sharp and dry: “You owe me bleach and emotional compensation.”

You slid off the counter with as much grace as you could salvage, cheeks burning, still trying not to laugh. Bob looked like he wanted the Earth to swallow him whole.

You stepped in front of him, grinning despite yourself, placing a kiss to his cheek. “Well… that was so hot until it wasn’t.”

He stared at you, wide-eyed. “We’re gonna be the talk of the whole building.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you whispered, tugging him toward the hallway with a devilish glint in your eyes, “We already were.”

THE BOY IS MINE NOT YOURS MINE

You were seated on one side of the long, glass-top table, legs crossed, eyes fixed on Bob—who was seated directly across from you, looking unusually serious in his fitted black t-shirt, hair slightly tousled from the rushed morning. The memory of his mouth on yours, of his hands gripping your thighs, was still simmering under your skin.

Your fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of your glass of water, but your gaze? Fully locked on him.

He kept glancing at you with that same, boyish, flustered smile—the one that made you feel like you were the only woman in the world. Like he couldn’t stop replaying the moment from earlier either.

But then—

She walked in.

Mel.

Wearing that same tight, short-waisted uniform she always adjusted way too slowly, like she knew people were watching. She carried her report folder in one hand and a stupid bottle of green juice in the other. Her eyes immediately scanned the room… and landed right on Bob.

You could see the moment she thought she had a chance.

He was polite, of course. He always was. He nodded when she smiled at him, even shifted slightly in his chair as she walked around the table… just close enough to lean down next to him, whisper something with a fake-sweet smirk.

You didn’t hear what she said. You didn’t need to.

Because your body reacted before your brain even caught up—your pulse surged, your jaw tightened, and then… your chair screeched as you stood.

Bob’s head snapped to you.

“Hey, baby,” you said, voice sultry, laced with honey and warning, the word baby echoing like a challenge across the room. You sauntered toward him slowly, hips swaying deliberately. “You forgot something this morning.”

Bob blinked up at you, cheeks flushing just slightly. “I did?”

“Mhm.” You leaned down, one hand on his shoulder, the other trailing along the collar of his shirt as you whispered just loud enough for everyone—including Mel—to hear: “Your handprint’s still on my ass from when you bent me over the kitchen counter.”

A beat of stunned silence.

John choked on his water.

Yelena practically collapsed in her seat, laughing with her hand over her face. “Oh my God, you’re doing this here?”

Val didn’t even look up. “Please stop making me regret giving you all keycards.”

Bob’s face? Fully flushed. But he didn’t pull away. Not even close. His wide blue eyes locked onto yours, lips parted in stunned, reverent awe. He looked like he’d happily let you ruin him in front of the whole room.

Mel, still frozen beside him, finally straightened up, trying to recover her dignity. “I was just giving him the mission intel.”

You turned your head slowly, deliberately, to face her—still leaning possessively over Bob, your hand resting lazily on his chest. “Yeah? That’s cute. He already got all the actionable intel he needed this morning. Between my thighs.”

Bob made a soft, involuntary sound in his throat.

Mel stared, blinking. She didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

You tilted your head, smiling with zero sweetness. “You can try, sweetheart. But the boy’s mine.”

Mel stepped back without another word, walking to the other side of the table with her eyes fixed downward.

Bob stared up at you, lips curved in a dazed, almost worshipful smile. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

You leaned down, nose brushing his cheek, and whispered against his ear, “Why would I? You let me break you in the kitchen like you were mine, baby. You think I’m gonna let her flirt with what I ride?”

He groaned under his breath—loud enough for only you.

You smirked and kissed the corner of his mouth before walking back to your seat, hips swaying like a reward. Yelena gave you a low whistle. John muttered, “Jesus Christ,” and Val pinched the bridge of her nose and said, “Please remember this is a military mission briefing, not a porn shoot.”

You leaned back in your chair, shooting a wink at Bob.

And he?

He just sat there, dazed and aching and absolutely owned—his hands under the table, gripping the chair like he was trying not to melt into the floor.

Mel never tried talking to him again.

[comatosebunny09]

merry christmas, mr. sylus [ aftermath ]

— summary: maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought. — cw: fluff, romance, jealousy, feelings of inadequacy, reader is not mc, ceo au, modern au, aged-up characters (sylus is in his mid-30s), mutual pining — notes: a happy ending for the holidays. happy holidays, all! [ part 1 | part 2 ] — now playing: some days - stella jang

It’s been nearly a week since you kissed your boss that fateful night.

Well, more like since he kissed you. 

And it’s strange because even though he was the one to initiate it, he’s been avoiding you like a sickness. His curt good mornings have felt glacial, where they were once warm enough to light the torch of your day. Your daily briefs have felt rigid, and the car rides together have made you want to tuck and roll out the door. Worst off, he hasn’t maintained consistent eye contact with you since Christmas Eve, his gaze often fleeting away, studying the floor or the blurred space over your shoulder.

It really pisses you off. It’s bad enough that the night replays in your mind like a warped record, bringing with it warring feelings of relief and hurt. Relief because, maybe, he didn’t push you away as much as you initially thought. Hurt because the look on his face when he booked it to the elevator, leaving you to nurse bittersweet emotions and a broken smile, is permanently ingrained in your memory. 

The pain overshadows all because he won’t even look at you now. 

Were your lips chapped? Is it because you didn’t know what to do with your hands? Did you smell offensive? Were you just shit at kissing? Said thoughts hover in your mind like a nebulous cloud stretched across the galaxy, even as you sift through documents and folders, trying your best to distract yourself. 

Mr. Sylus is tucked safe in his office behind you. Over the past few days, he’s made a point to arrive earlier than you—which is alarming considering you’re usually the night heron, showing up to fix his coffee, line up his daily schedule, and greet him with an unbridled smile. 

You slam the folder you were working with shut, garnering a few perturbed looks from the staff scuttling about on the tenth floor. Sighing, you pitch yourself back in your chair, a pout inhabiting your features. If he wants to be childish about it, sure. But you’ve rarely been one to let sleeping dogs lie, and the awkwardness between you affects your at-home life as well. 

Your gaze flits to the lower drawer of your desk. You scrutinize the lacquered cherry wood, contemplating barging into your boss’ office and giving him your makeup present. You figured maybe, just maybe, he was partially upset because he’d been expecting something more practical for Christmas. And perhaps that’s why he rushed out that night, all stone-faced and covering his lips with spindly fingers. 

You still remember their taste—their feel. Your lips still tingle, and your face bleeds bashfulness whenever you recollect. They were slightly chapped but warm as they moved against yours. And, through the union, it felt like he poured something molten into the chasm of your belly. Something that set your heart rate into overdrive, the gears in your head whirring until steam billowed from your ears.

A swift hand covers where your heart thrums, and you shake your head to dispel your memories. Was kissing him really worth it if it meant your working relationship would suffer? Obviously not if you’re mulling over it so hard. But with determination bleeding over your countenance, you bend to throw open your bottom drawer. An oblong, matte black box peers back at you from within, intricately dressed with a scarlet bow. Scarlet, like the irises burned into your memory, looking at you with utter mortification.

Banishing your thoughts, you snatch the present from inside. Kick your drawer shut, standing so quickly that the front wheels of your chair bounce against the floor. You turn towards the heavy oakwood door of his office, the embossed letters of his name challenging you, and you steel your resolve.

But fate has been the most fickle bitch as of late, intervening when she sees fit, burning your efforts to mere soot.

A familiar, mellifluous voice calls you from behind. And just your luck, it would be her. You swivel, greeting Ms. Hunter with all the rehearsed ease of someone in your field. 

She’s all bright-eyed and youthful with a thousand-watt smile. Gorgeous despite being in uniform, her hair windswept and cheeks mottled pink. A part of you would love to hate her, but you’ve truly no reason to. She’s never disrespected you, never called you out of your name. She’s been sickeningly cordial since you met her.

“Hey! Sylus in?” she asks, and your heart plummets into your stomach. Why else would she be here?

You nod rigidly, dropping back into your seat with the finesse of a bowling ball. And you take up the handset of your desk phone, dreading the familiar drawl of a particular voice on the other end. 

“Speak,” he answers, the curl of his voice making your stomach do somersaults. Despite its flatness, this is perhaps the most emotion you’ve heard from him in the last few days.

“Ms. Hunter is here to see you, sir.”

A part of you hopes he turns her away–tells you he doesn’t want to see anyone, even if it’s his darling lady friend. And you feel you might get your wish when he’s silent for a beat, the crinkly static being your only company. Instead of answering your prayers, he simply answers, “Let her in.”

Your stomach freefalls to your feet. Your mask of a smile twitches, your disappointment sluggishly leaking through the fissures. “Of course, sir.” And you hang up, standing once more to lead Ms. Hunter into the place you haven’t been allowed into for days yourself.  

She nods curtly, brushing past you, her hair wispy and the scent of stale Jasmine staining her clothes. When the door clicks shut behind her, you melt into your seat until your shoulders touch your ears, and you kick your excuse for a peace offering under the shadowy abyss of your desk. 

And to think you’d worked so hard to muster the courage to confront your boss, too.

—

It’s nearing lunch, and you’re shoving things into your bag as your stomach reminds you that you skipped breakfast. You sling your pack over your shoulder, pushing your chair under your desk, preparing to hit the cafe in the city’s heart for something quick. You barely make it two steps before you’re summoned for the second time, though there is no high and light voice curling around your name this time.

This one is low and even, velvet-smooth, furling in your chest like smoke, sticking to your lungs like ash. You whip your head around to meet a familiar sheen of white hair. 

He stands in his doorframe, a pensive look on his face, scarlet eyes smoldering with something you can’t quite place. Has his hands stuffed in his pockets, and he’s looking between you and your bag, wordlessly inquiring where you’re off to.

With a nervous laugh in your throat, you turn to face him fully. “Was just about to grab some lunch. You want anything, sir?”

He shakes his head, the barest cant to his lips. It’s gone before you’ve time to appreciate it.

You don’t know whether to laugh or scream as you fiddle with your fingers. At least he’s trying to approach you first, no matter how uncomfortable the exchange. You wonder if Ms. Hunter had something to do with this. Maybe he told her what happened six nights ago, and she gave him a pep talk to put him back into good spirits. But you know that’s just wishful thinking. In fact, she seemed uncharacteristically somber when she left his office earlier, barely acknowledging your goodbye. 

“Can I speak to you before you leave?” he asks, brows slightly furrowed, head tilted, lips set in a stiff line. 

Something cold drips through you. You grab the strap of your bag, grip white-knuckled, and the leather squeaks. Despite the dread turning your limbs to lead, you plaster on a smile and nod. He motions into his office, stepping aside to let you in. And you try to ignore how your heart threatens to leap from your rib cage because this is the part where he fires you, isn’t it?

Oh well. The job was good while it lasted—something to fatten up your résumé and harden your heart.

It’s warm inside his office. Of course, it always is. And you’ve missed this, not having been amid these softened, gray, accent molded walls all week. It smells of cracked cinnamon sticks and vanilla beans with something inherently Sylus snuck in between. The city stretches like a yawning beast against the horizon, peering through the ceiling-high windows behind his desk. 

Strangling the strap of your pack, you ease into a red, tufted armchair, your legs bouncing and your throat growing dry. You jolt when the door shuts and admonish yourself for being so jittery. If Mr. Sylus intends to fire you, you’ll face it head-on with a smile on your face. 

So you muster one as he moves to inhabit the space mere inches away from you, leaning against the edge of his heavy, cherry wood desk, arms crossing over a broad chest. He’s as devastating a sight as ever, his blazer slung over the back of his rolling chair, his forearms bleeding from cuffed sleeves. And the sight of his veins, branching like a roadmap beneath his skin, still makes your tongue feel heavy in your mouth.

You’re going to miss this. 

He looks contemplative as you toy with your bag’s zipper. And your cheeks ache from smiling so hard. Wonder how long you’ll have to keep up this act before he drops a bomb on you. 

“How are you doing today?” he queries. And you blink rapidly, not expecting him to open the floor with small talk. Regardless, you’re grateful he’s offering you more than curt grunts, even if it’ll be the last time you hear them.

“Um…I’m doing alright, I guess.” 

Your stomach growls, disrupting the tension that brews between you. You rub your stomach placatingly, and Sylus snorts, perching virile hands on the edge of his desk, leaning back. He seems a little more open. A little lighter, and you find your lips twitching with a genuine smile this time.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to steal you away from your lunch break. I promise to be brief.”

You nod as a knot of nerves forms in your gut, warring with your hunger. Straightening your back, you cross your ankles, hands flattened in your lap. Here it comes—

“Do you…have any plans for New Year’s?”

You blink again, brows pinching. “Wh-wha?”

He sheepishly rubs the scruff of his neck, and you can’t recall a time you’ve ever seen him so at odds with himself. He reminds you of an adolescent, rallying the courage to ask out their crush. 

“A friend of mine owns a cabin up in the woods.” He looks at you, wetting his lips. You nod, cautiously encouraging him to continue. “He usually hosts this whole weekend extravaganza there every New Year’s. Bringing a plus one is a bit of an unspoken rule. I was wondering if you didn’t already have plans—”

You unconsciously lean forward, brows lifting. 

“—if you would like to accompany me?”

Well, that took a left turn. A hand placed over your heart, you laugh, the knot of your nerves slowly unraveling. So, does this mean your boss doesn’t hate you?

“I would love to!” you say with a little too much enthusiasm. And he smiles in turn, stuffing his hands in his pockets, chuckle infectious. 

The load of the air a little lighter, you exchange small talk, and it feels as if nothing’s changed between you. Like that fateful Christmas Eve night, you didn’t make an ass of yourself, and he didn’t regret kissing you.

Sylus walks you to the door, twin smiles donning your faces. You turn to him on your way out, awkwardly running into the hardened planes of his chest. He steadies you with tender fingers wrapped around your arms, and the gleam in his eyes siphons the air from your lungs. You find your gaze falling to his lips, his mirroring yours. And had there not been people still milling about, you would’ve kissed him.

“W-would you like to grab lunch together, sir?” you ask instead, caught up in the alluring stir of his eyes—the wispy dance of darkened lashes, the tremor of pink lips.

“Of course,” he answers, his warm breath fanning over your mouth. He sweeps some errant hair behind your ear, the glide of his knuckle against your cheek reminiscent of pill bugs rolling over your skin. 

You nod, pulling yourself from the spell the moment cast. And you lead the way, trying vainly to stifle the grin splitting your face in twain, Mr. Sylus a warm and homely presence at your back as the pair of you make your way to the elevator.  

[channel4sims-cc]

TS4: Mixing Bowls Override

Sul sul ^^

Finally, one more kitchen override for you ^^

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ABOUT THIS ITEM:

This will override the following base game mixing bowls:

NOTE: 3 mixing bowls were not replaced, because overriding them makes the game crash. If I ever find a solution for that, I'll post them for you.

NOT REPLACED: Fruit salad mixing bowl (Dine Out), Ceviche mixing bowl (Luxury Party), Super food salad mixing bowl (Spa Day).

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INSTALL/ IMPORTANT:

1- Please choose and download JUST ONE VERSION.  You can only use one override for an item at a time.

2- Download it, extract it and place it on your Mods folder. Do not put it more than 1 folder deep, or it may not work.

Example 1: Mods/Replacements/(your file here) - OK 👍

Example 2: Mods/Replacements/Food/(your file here) - Won't work 👎

3- If you later want to use another bowl, first delete the one you're currently using and then replace for you one you want.

Note: If you're using another override for these bowls, you need to delete them in order to use this one.

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OPTIONS AVAILABLE:

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"MIXING" THE MIXING BOWLS (OPTIONAL):

You can mix and match different colors for the bowls.

HOW TO DO IT?

Each zip file comes with 8 package files of bowls in the same color:

-channel4sims - food replacements - mix bowl chocolate - NAME OF COLOR/VERSION

-channel4sims - food replacements - mix bowl dough - NAME OF COLOR/VERSION

-channel4sims - food replacements - mix bowl eggs - NAME OF COLOR/VERSION

-channel4sims - food replacements - mix bowl meat - NAME OF COLOR/VERSION

-channel4sims - food replacements - mix bowl pasta - NAME OF COLOR/VERSION

-channel4sims - food replacements - mix bowl salad - NAME OF COLOR/VERSION

-channel4sims - food replacements - mix bowl spice - NAME OF COLOR/VERSION

-channel4sims - food replacements - mix bowl white casserole - NAME OF COLOR/VERSION

EXAMPLE: You can pick an override for the chocolate mixing bowl from the pink ver 1 zip, then for the dough mixing bowl from the galaxy ver zip, and so on.

This way you can have 8 different mixing bowls at a time :)

REALLY IMPORTANT: The only thing you can't do is having more than one override for the same bowl. For example: having more than one override for the chocolate bowl at a time. Make sure they are different bowls (chocolate, dough, eggs, meat, pasta, salad, spice and white casserole. Then the version name for each one of them: pink, galaxy, etc).

It's OPTIONAL though. You can have all bowls in the same color/version.

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I hope you'll enjoy it a lot ^^

Please let me know if there are any problems :)

There are more overrides coming soon :)

Happy Simming ^^

*-* DOWNLOAD (free/no adfly) *-*

[gloomiegalaxie]

Body Details Treat Bag 1

i was going through my WIP folders and found some body details i started and never finished.

i consider this a new and improved version of my body blushes. there's naturals, unnaturals, and galaxie swatches. the file are kinda big because they are HQ and the galaxy ones have a few layers. ive created these with a different composition method so they seem to blend much better with a variety of fleshy and none fleshy skintones. the galaxie version is very subtle and looks best on non-human tones.

Frame: Both

Base Game Compatible

Swatches: varies. "naturals" has the most

Disabled for Random

Found in birthmarks > front torso

just some dots.

Frame: Both

Base Game Compatible

Swatches: 12

Disabled for Random

Found in Occult Left Cheek

the little swirly details i draw in some of my characters. there are swirls on the elbows, knees, nose and dots on the knuckles.

Frame: Both

Base Game Compatible

Swatches: 7

Disabled for Random

Found Body Details > Torso Scar

Download~

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Support my art :3

buy me a coffee on kofi, or

support me on patreon (optional tier, no CC is behind early access)