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[codingflicks]

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[divinector]

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[burningthetree]

For fuck’s sake how hard is it to include allergens on a menu right away

[starmaidengarden]

hiiiiii hru??? i love your “x reader” content !! :]

anywaysssss can i ask you to do a reverse comfort ?? ( like, the reader is the one who takes care of the characters because they have a breakdown or something similar) with overblot guys pls :)

srry if it something wrong, english its not my first language :((

—overblot gang : x gn!reader. Hurt/comfort. Soft angst. established relationship. dividers: uzmacchiato

note: my apologies that this took a while to write, writer's block has been eating me alive. Reverse comfort or angst isn't my best subject but I did try my best!!

Riddle Rosehearts ༉⋆｡˚

The study was in disarray. Books lay scattered, pages wrinkled, ink bleeding across unfinished notes. Riddle stood rigid at the center, knuckles pressed to his forehead, shaking and feeling anxious. Everything felt overwhelming, turning his usually tidy life into chaos. He tried to act fine, but tears rolled down his smooth cheeks. His face was red, swollen eyes. He didn’t notice you at first. His eyes were locked on the floor as if trying to burn a hole through it as if he could fall through and escape. You stepped forward silently, navigating around the fallen papers. You knelt in front of him, wrapping your hands around his head and guiding him to your chest. He held onto your shirt tighter as he let his guard down. The silence calmed his worries, allowing him to breathe more easily and be a flawed, vulnerable person in your care without fear of judgment.

Leona Kingscholar ༉⋆｡˚

He sat half-reclined on his bed, eyes unfocused, arm slung over his forehead. To anyone else, he might’ve looked like he was napping, lazily enjoying the peace and quiet. But the way his brow was creased — not from sleep but from thought. His tail twitched at uneven intervals, restless. Your footsteps were soft. Deliberate. When you reached him, you didn’t speak. You didn’t ask what was wrong. Instead, you sat beside him. The silence stretched long, thick with everything unspoken — the echoes of old wounds, of voices from a childhood filled with comparisons and unmet expectations. Second-born. Second-best. The crown would never be his. Leona blinked at you, one green eye sliding open to meet yours. There was a quiet challenge in it at first, as if he expected you to scold him for moping or pity him like others did. But your eyes didn’t carry judgment — only calm, grounding warmth. He didn’t say anything. You didn’t either. You simply lay down beside him, close enough that, if he wanted, he could reach you. After a long pause, his tail flicked again — this time curling lightly around your ankle. He rolled over, resting his head on your chest. His breath was warm against you, and his chest rose and fell in a steadier rhythm.

Azul Ashengrotto ༉⋆｡˚

Papers fell from his grip — menus, contracts, financial plans — all his carefully cultivated defenses fell alongside them. His hands trembled, knuckles a stark white against his purple-black pen. His gaze darted unfocused across the mess. His mind fell into chaos — doubts, disappointments, worries. He turned his back to you, ashamed, vulnerable — a side he hadn’t meant for anyone to see. You sat on the floor in front of him and waited. Eventually, his hands dropped away from his face, slow and shaking. His eyes were red at the corners, lashes wet, but no tears trailed down. His mask had cracked, but the pieces still clung to him — just barely. Then, without needing a word, you drew him into your embrace — resting his head against your heart. His grip tightened — first reluctantly, then more desperately — letting your warmth ease his worries.

Jamil Viper ༉⋆｡˚

Night had long since fallen, but Jamil sat alone on the balcony, leaning against the railing, face buried in his arms. The stars above offered no comfort; the weight of responsibility, of endless expectations, was too much tonight. You found him there, silent and still, and sank down beside him without a word. Slowly, you placed a bottle of water by his side, and then you rested your head against his shoulder. Your hand rubbed slow circles along his backhand, He stayed quiet, but you felt the faintest hitch in his breath. He tensed, unused to being cared for but— He was unraveling. In pieces no one else ever sees. Except you. As the minutes passed, he leaned into you, just barely. Under the stars, breathing in rhythm, letting the night carry away his worries. He didn’t let go for a long time. And neither did you.

Vil Schoenheit ༉⋆｡˚

Vil sat in front of the vanity, not a trace of his usual poise in his posture. One hand lay limp on the tabletop, the other supporting his weight as he leaned forward. His reflection stared back at him, eyes hollow and tired. His makeup had smeared beneath one eye. His mouth, usually held with pride or precision, was slack—drawn down at the corners. His pulse pounded under his skin — a chorus of doubts. He turned away, ashamed. You gently lifted the makeup remover pad from the table. It was still damp. Turning, you knelt beside his chair. His lips parted slightly as if to say something — to scold, or maybe to warn you away. But no sound came out. Instead, you reached up, cupping his cheek with one hand — and with the other, you gently swept the stained pad beneath his eye. Slowly, carefully, his hand took yours. He didn’t squeeze. He didn’t pull you into a dramatic embrace, He just held it. Not with elegance, not with his usual sense of stage presence. Just a quiet, tired motion — until his forehead came to rest against your shoulder. A shaky exhale fell from his lips — a vulnerable confession without words — that he was not alone.

Idia Shroud ༉⋆｡˚

The room was dark except for the soft light of his monitors. Screensaver spirals turned endlessly, untouched. His chair was turned away from the desk, barely rocking. Idia sat curled into himself on the bed, back against the wall, hoodie drawn over his head. Hair dim and flickering blue like a weak signal. One hand clutched the edge of a game controller, knuckles white, but the screen was off. His knees were drawn to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them — closed in, locked up. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t move. There were empty snack wrappers scattered beside the bed. His tablet is face-down on the floor. You saw the home screen still faintly lit up — a string of messages left unanswered, the last one sent hours ago. You just approached him slowly, giving him time to react if he needed space. You sat on the edge of the bed beside him. You gently placed your hand over his — resting your palm against his knuckles. He froze. His arms came up — hesitantly, uncertain — and then wrapped around your waist in a quiet, broken motion. His head buried itself in your side. He didn’t make a sound. Letting silence ease his worries. Your warmth anchored him, adding a moment of peace in his world.

Malleus Draconia ༉⋆｡˚

He stood solitary under a purple-black thundercloud, rain bouncing off his majestic horns. His magic faltered — growing wild — his confidence shaking alongside his power. He turned away, ashamed — a creature destined to be feared instead of valued. You approached without sound, stepping into his circle of solitude. Carefully, you extended your hand — no words, no demands. Unfurling your umbrella to keep him sheltered. The rain fell all around, bouncing off its surface, safely kept at bay. He turned toward you, Your gaze met his — calm, open, unwavering. You didn’t try to smile. You didn’t offer comfort in the form of shallow words. You just stood there with him. With him. Not the crown prince. Not the fae. Not the feared, revered being with horns and ancient magic. Just Malleus. Closer still, until his arms came around your shoulders, pulling you gently — but fully — into his chest. He rested his chin on the crown of your head and breathed out. And then he crumbled. Not in fury. Not in despair. Just quietly, like a wall that had finally allowed itself to fall — a moment of vulnerable peace forged without a word. You stayed beside him. Quiet. Steady. His magic grew calm, and the storm passed.

[pukefactory]

Hallo :D, Im not sure how many requests but Also I admire your work for writing headcanons and also Full stories! If it not harsh, May I request a Self-Aware (knows he in a game) Shadow Milk x Heartbroken Reader? Genre is a mix of hurt comfort.

Basically to sum it up the reader used to have a lover until they caught them golddigging them, breaking up with their lover they couldn't bear the sorrow and sadness so they decided just to Hop on CRK for some comfort, to hopefully make them feel better but they dont Know Shadow Milk is aware of it-

I tried my best to sum it up, anyways have a good day/night/evening/afternoon!

I noticed that in another request, you changed your preference from Shadow Milk to Pure Vanilla, so I hope I understood that correctly. This was a bit challenging due to the specificity of your request, but I believe I managed to create something of decent quality. Also, thank you for your kind words! I truly appreciate your support, and I hope I can meet your expectations. Enjoy, my friends!

✦ . 　⁺ WHO WOULDN’T SMILE BACK? ⁺ 　 . ✦

☆ Summary: Self Aware Pure Vanilla Comforts The Reader After A Hard Day

☆ Character(s): Pure Vanilla Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom)

☆ Reader pronouns: Not Specified

☆ Genre: Short Story, SFW, Comfort

☆ Word Count: 570

☆ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

☆ Image Credits: Devsisters

The screen cast a soft glow in the darkened room, the familiar melody of Cookie Run: Kingdom playing through your headphones. You sighed, your fingers mechanically tapping through menus as your thoughts swirled with heartbreak. The betrayal still stung—a dull ache in your chest that no distraction could fully ease. But here, within the warm glow of your kingdom, you could at least pretend to find solace.

Your eyes landed on Pure Vanilla Cookie, standing gracefully in the main square. His gentle smile never wavered, his presence a steady source of comfort—even in a game. Something about him had always drawn you in: his kindness, his unwavering faith in others, the way he seemed to hold the world together with gentle hands. Absentmindedly, you tapped on him, watching as he lifted his staff, a peaceful aura surrounding him.

“Ah, my dear friend, it’s good to see you again,” his voice chimed—warm, soothing, familiar.

You hummed in response, navigating the menus to start a new quest. But before you could continue, his voice rang out again—different this time.

“…You seem troubled.”

Your fingers hesitated over the screen. That wasn’t a standard line, was it? You shook your head, dismissing the thought. Maybe it was part of an update you hadn’t noticed. Still, something in his tone made you pause.

You exhaled, running a hand through your hair. “Just tired,” you muttered, half to yourself. “Rough day.”

Silence stretched between you, save for the soft ambient sounds of the game. Then, as if responding to your whispered confession, Pure Vanilla spoke again.

“I see the sadness in your eyes.”

Your breath hitched. That—that wasn’t normal. Your grip tightened on your phone as you stared at the screen. Pure Vanilla Cookie gazed up at you with a knowing expression, his heterochromatic eyes filled with quiet concern.

“…What?” you whispered, uncertain if you even wanted an answer.

“I know,” he said gently. “I know why you’re here.”

Your pulse quickened. This had to be some elaborate event dialogue, right? A new feature you had missed? But deep down, you knew otherwise.

“You’ve been hurt,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “Betrayed by someone you trusted with your heart. And now, you seek comfort here—in a world where kindness is not a lie.”

A lump formed in your throat. How? How could he possibly know that? Your fingers trembled over the screen as you swallowed the emotion rising within you.

“I… I just wanted to forget,” you admitted, barely aware you were speaking aloud. “I didn’t think anyone—”

Pure Vanilla smiled, but this time, it was tinged with sadness. “Even in a world of code and pixels, emotions are real. Pain is real. But so is healing.”

Tears welled in your eyes, your defenses crumbling under the weight of his words. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Finding solace in something that wasn’t even real. And yet, here you were, feeling understood in a way no one else had managed.

“If only I could reach you,” he murmured. “To wipe away your tears, to remind you that your heart is still capable of love.”

You let out a choked laugh, brushing away the moisture in your eyes. “You already have.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you smiled—a real, genuine smile. Maybe the world beyond the screen wasn’t so kind. But here, at least for a little while, you weren’t alone.

[iseos]

: “OUR THING”

library. p. enhypen x gn!r g. head cannons, fluff wc. ~70 each © iseos

lee heeseung — monthly movie day

— what started as an excuse to stay in bed all day, eventually turned into something you both looked forward to every month: movie marathon day. in the weeks leading up to it, you and heeseung would create a long list of everything you wanted to watch together in preparation. rarely did either of you venture out from the bed, preferring the comfort of being tangled together under a pile of cozy blankets.

jay park — baking

— once a week, the dorm's kitchen would be taken over by the two of you as you attempted to back new recipes together. flour clouds dance in the air as you both navigate through spilled vanilla extracts and dough mishaps. Amidst the laughter and occasional flour fight, your bond strengthened with each perfectly golden pie or slightly burnt batch of cookies.

jake sim — cafe hopping

— every weekend, you'd both set out to explore different cafes around the city, savoring the diverse menus and unique atmosphere of each location. at every stop you'd try new drinks and pastries while people-watching from your table in the corner of the room, creating elaborate life stories for the other customers around you and imagining their adventures and secrets.

park sunghoon — handwritten letters

— without a set schedule, you exchange handwritten "love letters" with each other at unexpected moments. you'd find them tucked under a pillow, slipped into a coat pocket, or just plainly left on a desk. these notes allowed you both to express the feelings you struggled to articulate in conversation. in the fleeting moments when the letters are discovered amid the rhythm of daily life, they offer solace and forge a deep connection through written expressions of love.

kim sunoo — indoor picnics

— every sunday, without fail, you spend the afternoon under the warm sun, surrounded by cute snacks. this routine lasted almost a month until the sky decided to intervene with an unexpected rain shower, threatening to cancel your plans. undeterred, you proposed relocating indoors. in an instant, your apartment living room transformed into your new go-to picnic spot, complete with comfy blankets and homemade snacks.

yang jungwon — star gazing

— whenever the weight of his idol and leader responsibilities became too much, you and jungwon would escape to the rooftop, lying side by side on a blanket. the expansive night sky, adorned with countless stars, became your sanctuary. with the cool breeze gently whispering around you, both of you with trace constellations, sharing soft laughter and momentarily escaping the world below in each other's comforting presence and the twinkling night sky.

nishimura riki — blanket forts

— the living room quickly transforms into a fortress of pillows and sheets upon hearing the first rumble of thunder outside. you both meticulously arranged cushions and draped blankets until it was almost impossible to move about the room from outside the fort, much to the annoyance of the other members in the dorm. inside, you both would spend the evening surrounded by snacks, playing games together on your phones, or watching your favorite shows together.

[bittertasteofhoney]

Like Real People Do | Ch. 1

Wanna Be Yours

Summary: You skirted around each other for years, never really crossing paths. But one night and a few charming smiles from the younger Miller brother and you're gone before the older Miller ever had a chance.

|| angst, jackson!tommy, jackson!joel, smut, jackson!tommy x f!reader, protected sex, unprotected sex (please do not do this), p in v, fingering, girl on top, praise kink, creampie, grinding, reader is afab, tommy au, maria and tommy are not together in this fic||

Notes: We had an overwhelming vote for a spicy Tommy fic with a splash of Joel so I shall deliver… Welcome to my newest fic! Hope you enjoy it. <3

Current planned tropes for this story are: hidden relationship, unrequited attraction, commitment issues, slight brother love triangle (but not too intense because I cannot have the Miller brothers fight too much). 

The characters, names and characterizations belong to HBO Max and The Last of Us franchise. This work is my creative property and aside from re-blogs and shares, I do not give permission to share or copy my work without permission or consent.

18+. Read at your own risk. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Minors DO NOT ENGAGE.

Neither you nor Tommy could explain why that particular night was the one that changed things for the two of you. You knew Tommy casually, of course. It was hard to navigate the town of Jackson without hearing the golden boy’s name, but apart from the occasional hellos and waves across the mess hall, you didn’t cross paths. On the rare occasion you were patrol partners, an awkward silence spread between you like a thick condiment - sticky and clingy. 

You wanted to say that night was a special one. Something was in the air, or you woke up in an incredible mood, knowing something was coming just around the corner. But it was a typical Wednesday night. You spent the morning helping with deliveries from the gardens and the afternoon on patrol with Jesse. It wasn’t unusual for the third patrol shift to meander over to the Tipsy Bison for a drink. Or five. 

It wasn’t unusual for Tommy to be working behind the bar, casually throwing smiles at folks like little sparks in the night. 

No, it was a typical night. Until it wasn’t. 

The second you stepped foot into the door, you saw Jesse beeline for Dina, so you meandered over to Tommy and sat on a stool directly opposite from him to avoid being labeled the third wheel for the night. He was busy eyeing the crowd of council members crowded in a corner laughing, so it took him a second to notice you fingering the grooves in the well-polished bar top. 

When he did, his breath left him in an instant. How could he miss you sitting there right in front of him? The corners of his mouth turned up in a smirk, and he leaned forward to languidly lean on the bar top, just mere inches from where you traced patterns. 

“Now, what kind of trouble are you bringin’ in here tonight?” You looked up with a smirk to match his. You knew he spoke to everyone else this way, but it was a nice upgrade from the niceties you usually exchanged. 

“Don’t have any fuel in me for trouble just yet.” 

His laugh came out in a short burst, and he slapped the counter once. “Well, that’s a problem I can solve. What’s your poison of choice?” 

You drummed your fingers, pretending to think through the menu, which really only had four options: whiskey, bourbon, vodka, and beer, although the label was used liberally in this sense. And if you were lucky, there was a special on offer courtesy of a recent supply run. 

“Surprise me.”

He grinned and nodded before turning around to grab a bottle hidden under the bar top. You lifted an eyebrow in curiosity. 

He wordlessly poured you a glass of the dark, cherry liquid in a tumbler and slid it over to you. He shrugged as he re-corked the bottle. “Ain’t got any tall-stemmed glances but I think it’ll still taste just fine.” 

“What is it?” You leaned forward and pinched the glass between two fingers. You took a tentative stiff - it smelled like blackberries and something musky. 

“Cabernet. It’s vintage.” He whispered the last words and threw his arms up in a mock jazz hands salute. Any bottle they found on patrol that wasn’t practically vinegar was, of course, vintage. Like normal life, wine production also halted in most of the world when the outbreak hit. 

You rolled your eyes playfully and took a sip. He didn’t realize until he saw you swallow that his eyes were glued to your lips. He looked away, trying to cover up his blush with a cough as you considered the drink. You licked your lips, and he was transfixed again. 

Since when did you look so good? As you took a second sip, he let his eyes shamelessly rake over your body. This, you caught and locked eyes with him as you swallowed.

“I want to say it’s good but I’m afraid my palate isn’t refined enough.” You licked your lips again, and he found himself reaching for the bottle to top off your already full glass. 

Again, your eyebrow lifted at him in question. 

“It just takes some getting used to. By the end of tonight, I’ll have you swirling that shit in your glass and claiming to taste notes of fucking oak or some shit.” 

You giggled. “Well, you’re not going to make me drink alone are you?” 

“I gotta work, sweetheart.” Sweetheart. Was this wine already growing fuzzy around your brain? 

You shrugged off his excuse and took another sip. He sat there and watched you before muttering, “Fuck it.” 

He waved his hand wildly to catch the attention of some guy nursing a “beer” in the corner. The man you recognized as Seth walked over and looked less than thrilled. “Can you take over for the night? I’ll cover your shift tomorrow.” 

Seth glared at him, but when he saw you sitting across from Tommy swirling the tip over the rim of your glass, he shook his head in mock annoyance. “Yeah, whatever.” 

Tommy grinned and threw his barkeep towel that was previously hanging out of his back pocket at Seth, swapping places with him around the counter to sit next to you. Without asking, Seth placed a tumbler filled with a generous pour of whiskey in front of Tommy. 

You laughed, and the two of you clinked your drinks, never breaking eye contact as you took a healthy swallow.

This was just the beginning of the night. 

The following two hours were filled with hearty laughs and shameless flirtations from the two of you. If anyone had been paying attention apart from Seth, it wouldn’t have been too surprising when the gap between your two bar stools closed inch by inch in fifteen-minute increments until his knee rested between your two legs. 

If anyone had picked up on your close proximity, it also wouldn’t have been too shocking to see you throw back the last few sips of your third glass of wine with Tommy eyeing you with an intensity that caused a shiver to run down your back. It was such a dark gaze that you couldn’t tell if he wanted to kiss or kill you, but you knew what the red wine was suggesting.

Obviously, it wouldn’t have been too hard to guess that you would’ve stood up and swayed your hips a little dramatically before sauntering toward the bathrooms. If anyone had been paying attention.

If someone noticed at this point, they would’ve seen your empty wine glass and assumed nature called. Naturally.

If another person saw Tommy’s empty tumbler near Seth’s station behind the bar, they would’ve connected the dots between Tommy’s fondness for the amber liquid and Seth’s tendency for long pours. A fella could only last so long without running for relief. 

But no one picked up on anything—except Seth, of course, who chose to mind his own business. 

No pair of eyes followed the two of you as you bypassed the bathrooms and, instead, kicked open the bar’s back door that spilled into a back alley. Like the gentleman he was, Tommy opened the door for you and sat on an empty milk crate so you’d have a place to get comfortable. Common courtesy.

Maybe it was the wine or the dark, intense stare coming from Tommy’s eyes. Whatever it was, it felt like a siren’s call when you took slow steps toward him. He slowly opened his legs in anticipation and held out his hands to support you as he swung a leg over to straddle his lap. 

His large hands slid down your back and to the top of your ass to hold you steady. You bit your lip as you looked into his eyes. Your breaths mingled in a heady mix, making it hard to avoid leaning in.

And when your lips touched? That was when it was set in stone. The kiss was sloppy. Equal parts tongue and lips and teeth. It was fierce and punctuated by groans. Your hands made their way up his chest to his neck and to their perfect spot at the nape of his neck so you could grip his curls in a vice. 

The deep groan that escaped his mouth told you that was something he liked, so you tugged harder. He answered with a nip on your bottom lip. He’d been wanting to do that all night. It tasted like blackberries.

As your kisses grew more desperate, so did the whimpers and pants coming from the two of you. Needing some sort of friction, Tommy’s hands lowered to fully palm your ass and drive you up against him in a dangerous rhythm. He guided you forward and backward in a delicious rocking motion that made it hard to think past the way your denim felt sliding across his and the way he tasted. Like liquid fire. 

Your name tumbled from his lips in a desperate plea. The man was seconds away from begging for you.

Was it your first choice to have sex with Tommy Miller on top of a milk crate behind the Tipsy Bison? No, it most was certainly not.  But to hear how the man practically whimpered at your touch, who were you to deny him?

Any sane woman would do the same.

And so you kept rocking and kissing and licking and nibbling until someone’s hand reached between you to unzip and unbutton. You weren’t sure whose hands were responsible, but you knew it was his hands that gripped your hips harshly to lift you up. You knew it was your hands that gripped his shoulders to find purchase as you torturously sank onto him. 

From there, it was instinct. You lost all sense of principles or logic as you rode him in that dark alley. He held you so close to him that you were pressed flush against him with his face buried in the crook of your neck as you moved, the tip of him hitting that most intimate part of you. The feeling of being pressed against him so intimately, paired with the friction of your clothed chest moving against him, would’ve driven you insane if his groans and whimpers in your ear didn’t do the trick. 

When you felt that delicious heat curling in your lower belly, Tommy leaned back almost instinctually to lock eyes with you. And those eyes. He looked as if you were a star fresh from the sky. He was entranced. 

And he wasn’t the only one. When that tightening sensation finally burst, you threw your head back in a silent scream, and he held you flush to him as he watched you ride the high. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, and when his own climax ripped through him, he was completely undone. 

The minutes after, when the two of you caught your breath and separated yourself with awkward laughs, you want to say you saw sense. But that was just the beginning.

Like clockwork, if you were ever in the Tipsy Bison together, you would find a way to each other. It would take a few drinks sipped in your respective groups or maybe just a few glances. You always ended up behind the bar, sometimes on the crate, against the wall or when you were really wound up, running to your house with him on your heels. Those were the nights when you needed more room to do what you really wanted to do to him. 

It always began with heavy petting and desperate kisses, and then you would fall against him. And he always caught you. The two of you were ravenous for each other.

You tried to be smart about it and obtained a diaphragm with the help of the town’s hospital staff after a very awkward conversation. You traded more than you should’ve for the golden item, but you knew that this thing between you and Tommy was far from over.

But it only existed in the parameters of the Tipsy Bison. Sometimes, it extended to your house. But never his. And if daylight ever shone on your interactions, they never crossed the line past cordial. No one in Jackson had a clue—well, except Seth, of course. But who was he going to tell?

Next Chapter.

Tag List :) @lemonboi

[simmattically]

Create Your Own Main Menu for The Sims 4 - Tutorial

Hey folks!

This tutorial will walk you through creating your own main menu override for The Sims 4 based on my custom repository.

_________

What is required:

JPEXS Free Flash Decompiler

Sims 4 Studio

Raster graphics editor (e.g. Photoshop, Gimp, Photopea)

Your Own Main Menu repository

_________

Step 1: Download and unzip the Your Own Main Menu repository

It's available on my Patreon page for free.

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Step 2: Prepare your custom images

There are two images that you need to customize:

SimMattically_YourOwnMainMenu_MainBG.pngThis is the main background image, where you want to put the desired graphic.Size: 1440px x 1200px

SimMattically_YourOwnMainMenu_BarBG.pngThis is the second background for the navigation bar on the right.Size: 480px x 1200px

Prepare your own images based on these templates. Do not change the size of the images.

Tips: If you're using a more complex background, such as a screenshot from your game, I recommend blurring the Bar_BG with a Gaussian Blur (~60px). Additionally, I suggest adding a white overlay with ~50% opacity and a 5-pixel wide white bar on the left edge with ~10% opacity. This helps improve the readability of the navigation bar buttons and adds an extra layer of detail to your menu design.

The repository also contains the optional file "SimMattically_RefreshedMainMenu_ScenarioButton.package" from my other mod, which replaces the Scenario button icon with a semi-transparent white version. It's up to you whether you want to use it.

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Step 3: Import the images to the .GFX file

Firstly, open JPEXS Free Flash Decompiler and then open my SimMattically_YourOwnMainMenu_Template.gfx with it.

Select "No to all" when prompted. 

On the left, choose "images" and scroll to the bottom where you will see the images you just edited in their original form. Right-click on each and select "Replace." Select the custom images you prepared in step 2.

Save the file.

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Step 4: Import the .GFX file into the .package file.

Open Sims 4 Studio, then click on "My Projects" and open SimMattically_YourOwnMainMenu.package. Select "Scale Form GFX" (the one with the "gameentrylauncher" description) and click on "Import." Select the modified .GFX file and import it. On Windows OS, you need to switch from .binary to all file types to see the file.

Save the .package file via File -> Save As... Give it a custom name and place it in The Sims 4/Mods folder.

That's it! Enjoy!

_________

IMPORTANT INFORMATION/TERMS OF USE:

Main menu overrides can become outdated with some game updates, causing them to break the game. You will have to remake your custom main menu with a new, updated template in this case. Always make sure you are using the latest available template and that it's not outdated.

Since these mods can break the game, I do not advise sharing your custom main menus with other players. You are free to do so, but be aware that since you're relying on this repository to create your own version, you most likely won't be able to update the mod and resolve issues for other players on your own, so you take responsibility for breaking their game.

If you decide to share your version with other players, please credit my repository and link to my Patreon post.

Do not put your custom main menu based on this repository behind any paywall or early access. I made this repository and tutorial free for everyone, so keep it fair.

I do not take responsibility for people misusing this repository or breaking your game with incorrectly modified files. I do not provide support for custom main menu overrides created by other creators using this repository.

_________

[codingflicks]

Simple Responsive Navbar

[divinector]

Responsive Navigation Menu

[eternal-sunflowers]

Apollo's New Muse

AO3 | written for @steddiebingo hop into spring mini event | prompt: blind date | rating: t | wc: 4.3k | cw: language, allusions to a toxic relationship (not steddie) | tags: alternate universe - no upside down, modern au, blind date, getting together, eddie POV, past stancy (but they're friends now), platonic soulmates eddie munson and nancy wheeler

Eddie walks into the restaurant exactly 10 minutes before 7:00 – enough time to survey the place without stress. As if he isn’t at least comfortably familiar with the place already – one of his blind date stipulations, a place that he knew well enough to know how to navigate without panic. He takes a look around, eyes flitting to each and every exit, as he walks up to the host stand. “Hi, uh, reservation under Wheeler?” 

The host smiles at him as they type into their computer. “Perfect. Got you right here, Mr. Wheeler. Follow me.” Eddie wrinkles his nose at being called Mr. Wheeler, but Nancy insisted on putting the reservation in her name for the date, so he swallows down the prickly feeling as the host grabs two menus and silverware and leads Eddie through the restaurant. They stop at a small table off to the side wall, other patrons murmuring into their dinners around them. “Here you are, sir. I’ll bring your guest once they arrive.”

Eddie thanks the host and takes a seat, quickly resuming his scan of the place. He notes every exit and the fastest path to get to every exit three times over in his head, repeats it like the life-saving mantra he knows it to be. He knows the place, but it’s always good, he thinks, to review everything and remind himself of the exits in case they suddenly moved, or one of them was cordoned off for some reason, or there was a massive party that would be hell to navigate past, or–

Eddie sighs.

He hadn’t ever thought too much about the exits of a place, or how many things could actually be an exit when you put your mind to it – and you’d be surprised, really, at what could be an exit if you were desperate enough. 

No, he hadn’t thought too seriously about that.

Not until Billy. 

Until Billy’s charming smile and strong hands and gruffness swooped into his life and turned it all upside down. 

His phone buzzes on the table. 

Nancy: stop biting your nails or i’ll come throw my drink on you

Eddie laughs, looking up to scan the room again. He spots Nancy at one of the barside tables, perfectly in his line of vision. 

She’s a saint, he’s decided. 

He lifts the hand he’d been absolutely mauling and finger waves at her. She only smirks in response and gives him a tiny thumbs up.

Eddie: as if you would risk ruining the hair you spent so long on fixing, nance-a-lot

He hears her laugh across the room and something settles within him, small chunks of the colossal anxiety within him melting away at the sound. Nancy is here. And wherever Nancy is means safety. 

Eddie breathes out a bit easier, feels his chest loosen just a bit. It’s going to be okay. He’ll make it through this blind date, go home with his best friend, vent about what a disaster it was, and move on with his life. Maybe then Nancy would accept that he just wants to be alone.

Being alone is safer. Easier. Less messy. 

Less terrifying. 

“Stop spiraling, Munson.” He breathes out, shakes his hands out at his sides in an effort to calm himself. A waiter comes by and fills up a glass with water for him. Eddie smiles, offers up his thanks, sips on the water. He focuses intently on his breathing, willing his nerves to mellow the fuck out. 

He scans the restaurant again, surveys the people enjoying their dinners and drinks, tries to see if he recognizes any of them or if any of them look threatening in any way. He’s on his second round of re-checking the area, his eyes sweeping back toward the front of the restaurant when they land on, quite literally, the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen.

“Jesus fucking christ.” Eddie mutters, hand gripping his water glass a bit too tightly, as he stares at the man who just waltzed in the front door. 

Eddie can’t glean much from this far, but what he can, he decides, is absolute beauty. If you could bottle up the concept of beautiful and market it to the masses, this man would be the face of it all. The essence. The sole driving force of it. Without him, beautiful doesn’t even exist. 

Eddie’s not even sure he knew what beautiful was before seeing this man. This man, with his swoop of soft as fuck looking hair, with his slightly tanned skin, with his fucking polo shirt tight around his biceps, with–

The man laughs then. At what? Eddie has no fucking clue, but now he’s laser focused on the sound. That laugh could be bottled up, too, as a fucking drug. A pick me up for the hard days. A pure shot of serotonin. 

Forget antidepressants – just have this man laugh into a bottle, squeeze it down into a powder, mix it all up, and fucking sell it to poor, pitiful fucks like Eddie so they have some minor modicum of joy in their dull lives. 

And that mouth? Jesus. He’s far away, but Eddie is sure that is the prettiest mouth he’s ever seen. Eddie can just make out tiny dots across the man’s skin, freckles or moles, he’s not sure, but fuck is he hoping its both. He wants to map out this man’s body, find every dot lining his skin and lick them. 

Eddie snaps out of his reverie when he sees the man start moving, walking alongside the host that sat Eddie, smiling and laughing back and forth. Eddie realizes with an ice cold clarity that this man is his date only a millisecond before the host gestures at the table and speaks, “Here you are, sir. Your waiter will be with you shortly. Have a great evening!” The man thanks the host and slides into the seat across from Eddie. The host walks off back to their stand, wholly unaware of how they just changed Eddie’s entire goddamn life. 

Good or bad? Fuck if Eddie knows. 

If Eddie thought he was fucked from afar ogling this man, he’s doubly fucked now that he can see his eyes up close. Eyes that are goddamn glittering back at him, perfectly smooth and golden like his morning coffee. 

“Hi.” The man’s voice – soft but a bit scratchy, like it’s been well-used – slips between the cracks in Eddie’s armor, slithers down into the caverns of his being, and sings, spreading warmth into his aching muscles. The man smiles at Eddie, a half-face kind of thing, one that looks like it’s excited but restraining itself, unsure yet of what it’s allowed to show. 

It’s only then that Eddie realizes he’s probably been staring like a goddamn creep instead of greeting this fucking adonis of a man. 

The man’s eyes flicker to Eddie’s glass. “You mad at your water?”

“Shit.” Eddie relinquishes the glass, his hand frigid and pruning at the prolonged contact.

The man reaches across the table, offering up a napkin. “Here you go.”

Eddie takes the napkin, mutters a quiet thanks that comes out more like a garble that he’s sure isn’t even audible, never even makes it past his lips, as he dries off his hand. He flexes his fingers, trying to regain more of the sensation back into them. 

“So…” The man coughs, a sad thing. The kind of cough someone does when they’re feeling awkward, or left out, or forgotten.

“Shit.” Eddie spits out, looks up frantically.

The man laughs, and if Eddie thought it was beautiful before, he’s fucking starstruck by it now being so close to it. He’s half tempted to dump his water into the plant behind him and use his empty glass to corral all the laughter he can before sealing it off and hoarding it home with him like a dragon. “Is that the only word you know?”

Eddie blinks.

“Shit.” The man clarifies, a smirk spreading across his face. “Is it? The only word you know?” 

Eddie breaks then, laughter of his own spilling out as he goes to drag his hands down his face, stopping mere seconds before his fingers collide with the eyeliner Nancy helped him perfect. He settles for ruffling his hair instead, can practically hear Nancy both chastising and mocking him in his head. 

The man raises an eyebrow. “So, you can laugh. That’s good to know. We’re up to at least two distinct sounds now.”

“Shit – no, fuck, man – I mean–” Eddie groans, wrings one hand across his mouth.

“Take your time.” The man smirks, and god, does Eddie want to taste it.

The waiter comes by then to fill up the man’s water. “Hi, I’m Alex, I’ll be your waiter tonight. Are you two ready to order, or would you like some more time?”

“We’d love some more time to look over things, if that’s okay, Alex?” The man beams up at the waiter. 

Alex smiles in response and nods. “Of course. I’ll circle back soon. Let me know if you have any questions.”

Alex walks off, leaving Steve to turn back toward Eddie, his eyes sparkling anew with something Eddie can’t quite identify, but fuck if it doesn’t look like trouble.

“So, the waiter has introduced themself to me before my date has. That’s one for the books.” The man quips, a teasing lilt to his smile as he sips his Alex water. 

If Eddie hadn’t spent the last years of his life learning how to read every single expression and movement a person could make, he wouldn’t have noticed the slight tension to the man’s jaw, or the way his fingers kept rubbing the same pattern across his water glass, almost obsessively so. He notices the man’s leg tapping beneath the table, too, a staccato beat that wants to shoot up Eddie’s own leg and burrow deep in the cavern inside of him. 

The man’s nervous, maybe anxious or upset. Something bad in between all the hopefulness flayed out for Eddie to see. Eddie wonders how someone can wear their emotions so easily, put them out to be scrutinized like this.

Well, not everyone is traumatized like you, dumbass, Eddie thinks to himself.

He sighs and leans forward, pulling his hands to his lap to fidget in silence, away from prying eyes like his own. Out of sight, out of mind. He clears his throat, looks up into the absolute ray of sunshine across from him, part of him wishing the radiance will burn his skin, give him something tangible to remember today by. “I’m sorry. I’m so out of practice with, like, all of this.”

“What, dating?”

“I mean, yeah.” Eddie focuses on spinning his rings, tries desperately to keep his head up and focused on the man in front of him, but he feels that familiar anxiety bubble roiling inside of him.

The man leans forward and smiles, soft and kind. “Well, let me help you get back into the swing of things, then. I’m Steve.”

Eddie cocks his head slightly, brain working overtime to pin down Steve, a name so familiar yet apparently blocked off when the man himself is sent specifically to torture him. “Eddie.”

Steve practically beams in response, the tension slipping from his body. “Eddie.” He snaps his fingers twice across the table, then points. “The artist slash musician, yeah?” 

Eddie blinks, because apparently that’s what his brain deems as an acceptable response when caught off guard. “...yeah? How’d you–?”

“Nance hasn’t shut up about you since the day you two became friends, basically. Just didn’t realize that’s who she set me up with until now, though I should have guessed.” Steve shrugs.

Eddie’s brain short-circuits for approximately 8 seconds as he stares back at Steve. He blinks again, because that’s all he’s fucking good for, apparently, until the name Steve resonates like an old song in his brain. “Oh, shit.” 

He shifts his gaze from Steve over to Nancy at her bar table. She’s smiling at him already when she catches his stare, her expression shifting, eyebrows raising in question. Eddie tilts his head at Steve and slightly widens his eyes. She mouths at him to “stay” and glares in response, crossing her arms across her chest. 

Eddie squints back at her, pulls his hands up from their fidgeting to sign back, “Why?” 

Nancy rolls her eyes and relents, signing back her own, “Please. Just trust me.”

Eddie sighs, signs back, “Fine. We’ll talk later.” Nancy nods, smiles in response before turning back to whoever the fuck had materialized at her table when Eddie was too busy ogling Steve. Shit, should he be watching her?

“Were you just signing with Nancy?” Steve’s voice is full of awe.

Eddie snaps back to Steve, his own eyes wide with shock and curiosity. “You know ASL?”

Steve smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. I, uh –” He grimaces, reaches a hand up to fidget with the hair over his ear, slightly fluffing it out. “Nance kind of taught me? Or, I guess, we learned together? It’s all kind of muddy, honestly.” 

Eddie slumps back. “Fuck, you really are her ex, aren’t you?”

Steve’s grimace grows at that and he flinches – honest to god flinches. “You figured it out, then?”

“Just now, yeah.”

Steve sighs. “Do you want me to go?”

Eddie looks back at Steve, at the way he’s folded in on himself, arms across his chest, no longer the open laughing adonis of a man that had slid into his life just ten minutes ago. Thinks about how he’d feel if he never got to hear that laugh again, see that smile again, see the glittering of those eyes again. His heart makes the choice before his brain can catch up to just how much this man screams danger. “No.”

Steve quirks his brow up, his shoulders dropping slightly. “No?”

“No, I don’t want you to go, unless you want to.” Maybe he doesn’t have to be danger. Maybe he can just be…a small catastrophe. Yeah, sure, that reasoning is fully sound, Eddie, fucking hell.

“‘S not too weird for you? Best friend on a date with best friend’s ex?”

Eddie laughs, then stops as he notices how Steve flinches away from him at the sound. He leans forward immediately and, at the flick of a switch, schools his face into his calmest smile. “Shit, man, I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise. I was laughing at myself.” Eddie sighs, settles his arms on the table. “Look, I don’t know what Nancy’s told you about me, but, my life is, like, the textbook definition of weird.” 

Steve leans a bit closer to the table, his shoulders dropping a bit more. “Yeah?” 

Eddie takes it as a win and keeps going. “Actually, I think they had to write, like, whole new ass textbooks and shit to make room for what level of weirdness my life exudes.” Eddie spots the edge of a smile on Steve’s lips and locks in, his only goal in life now to resurrect that smile. He leans forward, drops his voice to a whisper as he glances furtively over Steve’s shoulder and back to his beautiful eyes. “I think Nancy helped write it, to be honest. She’s probably working on a new edition right now, taking notes of every weird ass thing I do on my date with Adonis over here.”

Steve laughs. Not the full, beautiful sound from earlier, but halfway there. Eddie grins, a full face thing, surely something maniacal, but he can’t be bothered to care, because Steve is laughing and lowering his shoulders even more. Eddie fake shushes him and continues. “I’m serious! I think she, like, snuck into my room and took meticulous notes of my life when I was at work to help her like I’m a goddamn character study of hers for some article.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s always been too determined for her own good.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie’s grin intensifies, happy to have gotten something in response now. Evening isn’t totally botched, then.

“Yeah. She wrote circles around everyone on the school paper. Shocked none of us when she got that scholarship up here.” Steve slumps his shoulders fully, leans his arms on the table in a mirror of Eddie’s. 

“Oh, I’m not surprised. She’s fucking killing it. She ever tell you how we became friends?”

Steve smiles, leans forward the slightest amount, but enough that Eddie notices and his own breath hitches in response. “She might have, but I’d rather hear the story from Apollo here.”

Eddie quirks a brow. “Apollo?”

“If I’m Adonis, then you’re definitely Apollo.”

Eddie, to no one’s surprise, blinks back.

“You have no clue what Apollo does, do you?”

“Not a one, Stevie.”

Steve blushes, bites his lip as he ducks his head, runs a hand through his delectable hair. Fuck. “He, uh, he’s known for like, being the brother of Artemis, or whatever. And people tend to think of archery with him, or prophecy honestly. But, he’s really cool and important, also, for all of the stuff he does with music. Like, really good with music and poetry and captivating people. So, yeah – you do music, ergo, Apollo.”

“Ergo?” Eddie blushes, bites his lip to hold back a laugh, and maybe a love confession, but Steve doesn’t have to know that. 

Steve sighs, but his mouth holds a slight smirk. “Are you just going to repeat the words I say back at me the whole date?”

“If it keeps making you make that cute face, then yeah, absolutely.” 

“Jesus fucking christ.” Steve mutters, ducking his face into his hands briefly. “Just tell the story, man.”

Eddie admires Steve for a brief moment. Looks at how the low lights coat his hair in a honey-like swirl, how his biceps are practically screaming at the sleeves of his polo, how, oh my god is that chest hair peeking out? Fuck, Eddie is so gone on this man already. He swallows, his throat suddenly thick with premature love confessions and thoughts of Steve’s writhing body beneath him. “How can Apollo spin a tale if he can’t see the face of his Adonis to inspire him on?”

“Oh my god.” Steve groans – a literal groan. That doesn’t do anything untoward to Eddie at all. Nothing. “You said you’re out of practice, you can’t just say shit like that, man. You’re not out of practice at all.”

Eddie smirks. “Appreciate the vote of confidence there, Stevie. Now, can I please gaze upon your beautiful face again so we can continue the best night of my life?”

Steve looks up then, biting back his own blinding smile. “Best night of your life, huh?” Eddie nods. “Well, who am I to disrupt that?” 

Alex circles back to their table then. “Are we ready, folks? Any questions about the menu?”

Steve and Eddie mutter out a simultaneous shit, realizing they’d spent the last however long flirting instead of actively looking at the menu. 

Alex seems to read the panic on their faces and smiles. “I’ll give you a few more minutes.” He leans in briefly, a conspiratorial grin on his face. “Though, if I can offer a suggestion, my favorites, underrated as they are, are the chicken marsala and the chicken florentine. The salads are also amazing.” With that, Alex winks, then leans back and walks off to another table.

Eddie locks eyes with Steve. “Well, I think Alex just decided my dinner for me.”

Steve laughs, some of that beautiful music from earlier returning to his voice, much more relaxed now. Eddie warms at that, cherishes the feeling of comfort it brings. “Yeah, me too.” He stares back at Eddie for a moment. “There’s more important things I want to spend my energy focusing on besides choosing what to eat.”

“Yeah?” Eddie can’t help the hopeful lilt to his voice.

Steve leans forward, places his hand, palm up on the table between them. “Yeah, Apollo.”

The blush comes on so violently that Eddie knows he must look like he just spent the whole day walking in the park, but he doesn’t care. Not when Steve is smiling at him like this, posture relaxed and easy, eyes twinkling with mischief and mirth at him. Not when Steve has his hand laid out like an invitation, something that seems to promise more warmth and comfort and enjoyment. Eddie flicks his eyes between Steve’s eyes and hand. If it makes Steve anxious or concerned, he doesn’t let on – just keeps gazing at Eddie so soft.

Against his better judgement, against all the warring in his chaotic brain, Eddie’s resolve breaks, a crack in the carefully crafted armor, just big enough for him to slip through to offer the tiniest sliver of his being to the man before him.

Eddie slips his palm into Steve’s. The second their skin connects, it’s like firecrackers in his bloodstream, exploding through every fiber of his being, laying down new paths through the sinew stringing him together, crushing and reknitting his bones to make them full of warmth and strength, swirling around his brain and sneaking into the recesses there to replace fear and hurt with kindness and comfort. His whole body vibrates with the shock of Steve’s touch, but Steve doesn’t waver. He squeezes Eddie’s hand in response, links their fingers together. Eddie can’t help it, lets out a shuddering breath, a quiet, “Fuck.”

Steve lets out a small laugh. “Maybe not on the first date, but we’ll see how the night goes.”

Eddie groans. “You can’t just say shit like that to me, Stevie. Do you even realize how beautiful you are?”

“Right back at you, Apollo.” Steve beams at him, a smile so blinding that, yeah, Eddie could really use sunglasses or something to protect him.

So, Eddie flicks his gaze over Steve’s shoulder to catch Nancy’s attention. The one person he trusts to protect him in any capacity. It takes a moment, but she looks up and locks eyes with him, a questioning tilt to her head. Eddie does his best to convey his inner turmoil to her through minute facial expressions – a slight lift to his brow, a widening of his eye in question of if he can really have this, if this is really good and okay. 

If this isn’t going to bite him in the ass or leave him beaten and bruised in the end. 

He’d sign to her, but knowing Steve knows ASL…yeah, not very subtle, though Eddie doubts he’s being subtle now, but he’s choosing to ignore that and hoping Steve is too. Plus, he’d have to let go of Steve’s hand, and like hell he’s going to do that right now.

Nancy smiles back at him, signs to him because she has nothing to hide from. “You like him?”

Eddie nods.

“You’re scared?”

Another nod.

Her smile softens. Eddie vaguely notices the person at the table with her looking back and forth between them. He’ll have to question Nancy later, but she doesn’t seem to be in any trouble, so he’s letting it slide for now. “You deserve this, Eddie. He’s good. I promise.” 

Nancy’s table partner seems to widen their own eyes at that and Eddie’s gaze locks briefly with them. The person narrows their eyes, goddamn signs to him. Jesus. “He’s amazing. Don’t hurt him. Or else.”

Fuckin’ hell, did Eddie just get signed an abbreviated shovel talk from some random person hanging out with Nancy? Well, maybe not wholly random. He guesses that they know Steve or else they wouldn’t have shovel talked him via sign language. That’s a new one. 

Eddie nods back, at both of them, he guesses, and they smile and return to their own conversation. Jesus, Eddie is going to have a hell of a conversation with Nancy later. 

Alex rounds back to the table then, a smile on his own face. “We ready, gentlemen?”

Eddie looks at Steve, a smile shared between them, before turning to face their waiter. “Yeah, Alex. The chicken florentine sounds great.”

“Chicken marsala for me, then.” Steve looks up at Alex. “Thanks so much for your recommendations.”

A pleased look takes over Alex’s face as he writes down their orders. “Of course, gentlemen. I’ll get this put in right away. Just flag me down if you need anything.” With that, he takes their menus and walks off, leaving them in their own little bubble again. 

Eddie turns his gaze back to Steve, returns to his body at the slow circles being rubbed against his hand by the man before him. Steve’s face holds a questioning smile, a small lift of his brow. 

Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand and offers his own smile, lets off the brakes and lets it really take over his face. Steve’s own brightens at that, his eyes widening a bit, sparkling like a goddamn river in the sunrise, rippling with currents of emotions that Eddie’s not sure of, not sure he can handle losing if this all goes to shit. 

But, what if it doesn’t go to shit? What if he’s different?

If Eddie’s being honest, which he rarely is, at least with himself, he’s goddamn terrified. But, he’s holding the hand of some Greek symbol of perfected beauty brought to life, feeling the full warmth of that touch throughout this entire body. He’s looking into soft eyes that scream of morning coffee over the kitchen island; feeling the warmth of a palm that promises movie nights snuggled together under a thick quilt, limbs tangled until it’s wholly unidentifiable who they belong to; seeing the radiating edges of a blinding smile that promises more laughter and love than Eddie’s ever experienced, enough to fill him and start to heal the very foundation of his being alongside the patches Nancy has managed to place.

So, Eddie laughs, swallows down the loudest parts of dissent within him and says, “Fuck it.” He props his elbow up and leans against his open palm. “Alright, Adonis. I think I owe you a story.” 

Steve mirrors Eddie’s pose, face radiating mirth and softness. “Serenade me, then, Apollo.”

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New Desktop Dash, No Bueno

Okay so, new dash layout on desktop.

As seems to be a common reaction: not a fan.

Let's talk about some of the issues:

1. Really visually cluttered

The new sidebar crowds out the dashboard content and the bright blue popup notifications (now at the side AND top) and create-post bar pull your eyes in different directions. There is no space for the eye to rest on anymore - it's all noise. The end result is that everything flattens - there's no focal point anymore.

It's also pretty overwhelming - even for someone like me - so I can't imagine it would be very user-friendly to someone who was photosensitive or struggled with visual overload (especially when paired with the high-contrast 'true blue' default site palette and animated icons for the changes-on-tumblr/staff-picks/trending buttons).

2. The activity pop-up now covers dashboard content

This is really bad from a usability standpoint. In the old layout the activity pop-up used to drop down over the recommended blogs sidebar. Now it actively gets in the way of looking at core content. The dash is why we are here, burying it like this is baffling.

The search bar now drops down over the recommended blogs banner instead, but where the old design had non-critical space on each side of the dashboard to visually allow both features to pop in, this new layout is way worse for efficiency. And for what? Having a rarely-used former drop-down menu now permanently active? The old banner with quick-links for the key use-features (notes, messages, askbox) made much more design sense.

It also means that the activity pop-up gets now completely covered by the blog pop-up that opens when you click the notification, so double demerit there. 0/10.

3. It's harder to navigate to the activity page, and the new page-stretch means you can't see new notes without scrolling down

That first bit is kind of a nitpick but cramming the 'See everything' link down at the bottom of a browser window isn't a great navigation choice. (Again, the visual signifiers and eye-direction in this new design are incredibly poor.)

That the main activity page now requires you to scroll to even see the top note due to the new display ratio is really egregious. It makes another key site feature just slightly less convenient and accessible in a very irritating way. Bad choice.

4. The new ratio pushes the Radar and Main Sponsored slot completely off-screen

This one is directed the tumblr staff: that's also a bad choice, guys. That's your main ad-slot for people loading into Tumblr so hiding it is going to hurt both your ad-impressions and your ability to promote the ad-free option. The new layout ratio also means that the in-dash ads are going to be a lot more invasively screen-filling - and let's be real most users will either add-block or leave before purchasing ad-free. I have no idea what the new layout is trying to achieve but if ad optimisation is the goal then this ain't it, chief.

To be honest I cannot comprehend the rationale for this change. I guess it's visually a bit more like Twitter... but that site is currently being demolished from the inside by poor management decisions so maybe it's not the best aesthetic to be aping.

Well then, what do?

Okay so, new dash bad. And so, in true Tumblr spirit: we complain. However, to get results we must deploy the art of kvetching productively.

If you want the old dash back (or at least, a better new-dash design that corrects some of these big weaknesses) what you should do is head over to https://www.tumblr.com/support and lodge a feedback ticket pointing out the problems. The more users who do that, the more likely you are to see an effective response.

Remember, tagging @staff and @support in posts won't fix this. There's no guarantee they'll see it among the notes barrage.

Also: please don't be rude or abusive when you lodge tickets. Whoever is manning those blogs and inboxes probably isn't the person who forced through this change. Save an intern, be polite.

Go forth in disgruntlement to keep this hellhole a hellhome.

[phantomcodes]

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when the browser window gets too small the sidebar will disappear and become toggleable, the sidebar toggle button will appear on the right side of the headerbar next to the day/night button

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navigate popup

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reminders

remember tumblr’s customize panel is buggy, toggle the options on/off before saving

i’m still on a sort of semi-hiatus, i’ll be around for questions but please check my faq, answered asks, etc. before asking - i will not answer repeated questions!

[ravencodes]

Valhalla Skin Set - $50

The Valhalla Skin Set is a minimal, responsive skin for Jcink forums. This skin has been optimized for Google Chrome, but should work just fine in other browsers. This skin set includes the skin, guidebook template, and all posting templates. If you would like to see a live preview of the skin, view the templates, or ask any questions, you may do so in my support Discord here: discord[DOT]gg/yGEsVuzyBZ

Features:

Responsive layout that will adjust to most screen sizes.

Dark/light toggle.

Pop-out navigation menu.

Profile application featuring FizzyElf's automatic thread tracker.

18 templates for posting purposes including, but not limited to: Admin post, face claim, shipper, five threads, dev images, quote, and more!

Member list filtering feature by FizzyElf.

Easy to edit skin variables for changing skin colors, fonts, and images. This includes easy to add and edit member group variables.

A PDF installation guide to walk you through installing the skin.

Purchase Link: https://ko-fi[DOT]com/s/3218aec8db

(Source link also leads to purchase page!)

If you previously purchased my Valhalla Template set, please message me for a coupon code to recieve 25% off of your purchase!

(Auto thread tracker and member list filter functions courtesy of FizzyElf: fizzyelf[DOT]jcink.net)

[a-d-nox]

numerology observations

it's not your typical numerology - i get it - but i am a tarot girlie, i cant help it with the major arcana observations.

paid reading options: astrology menu & cartomancy menu

enjoy my work? help me continue creating by tipping on ko-fi or paypal. your support keeps the magic alive!

work ID number

number reduces to 14

my time at this job might require me to maintain balance - whether that’s balancing workloads (true, i often get multiple due dates for projects and mailers, while also dealing with other role responsibilities), navigating different personalities (very true my boss has a very different personality from me - but then again big personalities are difficult for me as a reflector), and/or having to blend my skills in a way that creates harmony (true again - my job blends my creative side with logical side). the energy suggests a job where adaptability and steady progress are key. i may not see immediate results, but over time, things will align as they should with my long-term journey.

number reduces to 21

this workplace is a major stepping stone in my journey - one where i gain significant experience, reach a peak, or even wrap up a long cycle of growth. it’s often a sign from the universe of fulfillment and recognition after hard work. maybe this job will be a place where i feel accomplished, or it will set me up for my next big chapter...

library card number

number reduces to 10

my experience with books, knowledge, and learning are deeply tied to the shifting phases in my life. i tend to come across books “by chance” that are exactly what i need at that moment. i am very much a casual/mood reader - that's why i like using my card though affiliated apps like cloudlibrary and kanopy (it's for movies, but you catch my drift - it's still a library feature). i do experience a lot of ups and downs in with my library related reading habits - sometimes i devouring multiple books in week, other times i'll be struggling to finish one and often i will dnf multiple in a week just because they don't interest me. overall, my library card number could symbolize the expansion of my mind!

phone number

number reduces to 9

a phone is all about connecting with others, but this could suggest that my phone is a tool for broadening my perspective (which is super true, it's more often for research than it is for talking with others), connecting with distant people (often the people i do text or call with are states away one upon a time they were countries away), and having deep, meaningful conversations (people only call me for a conversation, if it will indeed be longer than 30 minutes). i tend to offer emotional support, advice, and just generally being there for people at a distance (that's so hermit coded to say).

license number

my number reduces to 6

my traveling has more to do with maintaining relationships and helping others than anything else. driving to me involves many important choices - taking responsibility for travel and the transportation of others and also knowing multiple ways of getting around there's like 3+ ways to get everywhere i need to go and i never seem to gravitate to just one of those ways which is weird to me. the lovers is a nurturing energy, meaning my car or driving habits often involve family, friends, etc. i tend to drive people around, travel to see family, etc.

license plate number

number reduces to 20

car might be tied to significant turning points, whether that’s major life choices (the car it's on now was bought off the dealership showroom floor), new beginnings (my plate has been on a few different cars during my lifetime and once was my mother's), etc. travels seem to align with fated encounters (i have had a couple final destination moments - recently with a shovel in the back of a truck on the highway (don't worry, i swerved it)) or other significant events (that car got into an accident the day after we bought it within 10 miles of my home).

bank accounts and/or credit/debit cards

number reduces to 5

learning experience - i'm frequently exploring new ways to manage money, such as different investment accounts, cash back featured, and/or shifting financial priorities. might teach me important financial lessons, whether it's through mistakes, the unexpected, and/or new financial strategies.

number reduces to 7

research purchases, looks for the best deals, and avoid impulsive spending. this is honestly the MO of a credit card that can fast track to carry a balance long-term and even get max-ed out. this is another card/account that can present lessons for the carrier because often these holders need to have a plan/strategy for how this card/account will be use.

number reduces to 12

frequent pending transactions, financial stagnation, and/or needing to be patient for rewards is common (pretty typical for like CDs, bonds, and/or checking accounts). this account is likely to cause questions on how one manages their money.

have ideas for new content? please use my “suggest a post topic” button!

return to nox's guide to metaphysics

© a-d-nox 2025 all rights reserved

[willowsnook]

hi! can I get a rum & coke in a short glass please? thank you! x

Officially the last bar menu request. New prompt list dropping Nov. 1!

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oscar piastri x strategist!reader

me and him? that's funny

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Being an American working in Formula 1 brought its own set of challenges: language barriers, cultural differences, and the intense pace. Thankfully, you weren’t alone in navigating it all. Oscar had introduced you to his friend, Logan, a fellow American and driver for Williams. Over summer break, you’d even spent a week with him in Florida—a quick flight from home.

Now, back in Zandvoort for the Dutch GP, you arrived early to prepare for the race weekend. When you finally saw Oscar and Lando in the paddock, you gave both a big hug.

"I missed you guys," you said, grinning.

"How was your break?" Lando asked. "I saw you visited Logan in Florida."

Oscar’s expression turned noticeably dark. You glanced at him, confused, but turned back to Lando. "Yeah, Logan’s close by, so we hung out for a bit."

Without a word, Oscar suddenly walked off, leaving you with a bewildered look.

“What’s up with him?” you asked Lando, who just smirked knowingly.

Throughout the weekend, Oscar was noticeably cold toward you. He wasn’t rude, exactly, but the short responses and the indifference were maddening. Later, while venting to Logan, you spotted Oscar heading over.

"Hey, man," Logan greeted, giving Oscar a quick handshake.

Oscar’s gaze was steely. “Just looking for my strategist. But it seems like she’d rather work over here.”

Rolling your eyes, you replied, “Maybe if I got more than one-word answers from you, I would.”

Logan shifted awkwardly. "Uh… I’ll let you two work this out," he muttered, backing away.

You folded your arms, holding Oscar’s stare.

“Your boyfriend didn’t have to leave because of me,” Oscar muttered.

“He’s not my boyfriend, and you know that,” you said, exasperated.

“Doesn’t seem like it, with you visiting him over the break and all.”

“Me and him?” you scoffed. “That’s funny. You’re the one who told me to be friends with him!”

Oscar’s cheeks flushed. “Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to pick him over me.”

“Pick him over you?” you snapped. "What on earth are you talking about?”

You stared at Oscar, waiting for an answer, the frustration simmering between you both. He hesitated, his gaze softening, and then, almost reluctantly, he let out a small sigh.

“Look,” he began, voice quieter, “it’s just… I didn’t expect you’d get so close with Logan. Not because he’s not great, but because…” He trailed off, clearly struggling with his words.

You softened, curiosity and something more filling your chest. “Because what?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks slightly pink. “Because I… I like you. I know it’s probably not what you’re expecting to hear right now, but seeing you with him over the break, I just… I realized I wanted to be the one you wanted to spend time with.”

Your heart skipped, and for a second, all the frustration melted away. “Oscar,” you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips. “You could’ve just told me.”

He let out a small laugh, looking a bit sheepish. “Yeah, I didn’t realize how much I felt until I thought I’d lost my chance.”

You took a step closer, the paddock noise fading into the background. “There’s no competition. You’re the one I’d rather be with, always.”

He grinned, his usual confidence back as he reached for your hand. “Then, maybe we can grab dinner after the race? No teammates, no distractions. Just us.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. “I’d like that. A lot.”