#halo 4 maps

[halopedia]

Map Monday — Adrift

The Springhill-class mining ship CAA Heavy Burden was repurposed by the UNSC as an ordnance transport during the Covenant War. Damaged at the Battle of Kholo, the vessel has entered a slowly degrading orbit around a nearby gas giant.

[hardcoregamer]

Some locations in video games are instantly recognizable, not just by the fans of the game, but even by people who haven’t played the title. The most iconic of these locations have been instilled in the video gaming industry until the end of time and even non-gamers can recognize them.

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song [Part 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Fish are friends (?). You are not food.

[PART 1] [PART 1.5] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5]

The Siren wasn’t leaving.

Which a part of you had been expecting. Because surely if there had been a snowball’s chance in Hell of him making it out into the open ocean alive before you’d cut through the ropes, he would have taken it and left you stranded without a second thought. And his odds weren’t that much better now—his fins were still a mangled mess and the wounds all along his scales and dainty featherings were still raw and oozing. It only made sense that he’d take at least a few days to try and recover.

But… But still.

Did he have to make it so obvious that he was sticking around?

The glint of the light off his tail was a constant distraction—always bright and eye-catching even at the cloudiest points of the day. Always flashing just out of the corner of your eye as a perpetual reminder that there was something in the water that would very happily gobble you up if you bothered making a swim for safety.

He’d also taken to sunning himself. Like some kind of overgrown mer-cat. Stretched out languidly on a flat rock with the tips of his violet fins hanging over the edge—just enough for the gauzy edges to play along the surf and avoid drying out entirely. His pale hair splayed out in a halo around him as he snoozed softly in the heat of the afternoon.

Which! No fair! This wasn’t a vacation! This was a stranding! An SOS! A Rose Queen Procedural Rule Four-Hundred-and-Four! And him taking up the whole of the cove to, I don’t know, tan, felt like another intentional slap in the face. The sun rose over the bay, which meant this stretch of shore was facing East. Which was the direction your vessel had been coming from. Which meant that this was the place on the little islet where you needed to be. Subsection Three of Procedural Four-O’-Four. ‘In the case of Crew Overboard, we will always travel the same route as planned. In order to give the Strandee a chance to map out a reconnection point.’ Riddle always had been so smart about these kinds of things.

‘It’s just until he’s better,’ you reassured yourself for the umpteenth time that morning. ‘Then he’ll leave and I can get rescued or die here alone and in peace.’

A fin flicked up from the shallows to spray you with saltwater splatters and you spluttered indignantly when it ran down into your eyes. You glared at the Siren’s retreating back, musing bitterly about how you’d never thought it was possible for someone to make the tuck of their shoulders look smug.

‘Alone and in peace,’ you repeated hopefully. And it sounded like such far off dream.

.

.

On the second day post-rope-removal, the Siren waved you down with a sharp flick of his wrist.

You approached the waterline hesitantly, still mostly waiting for him to turn on you and make toothpicks out of your bones. But instead of murdering you and getting crafty with your corpse, he just pointed to some scribbles in the sand. You squinted at the loop-de-loops suspiciously. It almost looked like an illustration of dancing bubbles—the lot of them curling and popping along the ground in a line like a limerick. 

“Uhm, very nice,” you tried, and the fins flattened pissilly all along the side of his head.

He jabbed his claw towards the mess again. Then firmly at your eyes (hopefully not as a threat that he’d be happy to take them right out of your head if you continued to be obtuse). And then back again. He made a point to move the tip of his sharp nail from one swirl to the next in a little hop-hop-hop. It reminded you a bit deliriously of Riddle trying to teach some of the more socially bereft members of the crew their letters, and—

“You want me to read that?” you gaped, staring at the elegant curls of nonsense in the sand.

The Siren crossed his arms across his lean chest with a scoff that puffed past his lips hard enough to fluff out some of the paler, purple-tipped, hair hanging by his chin. He rolled his eyes at you and muttered something thin and spicy under his breath that you just knew had to be some sort of insult.

“I can read!” you defended, because it felt like it needed defending.

He leveled you with an entirely unimpressed ‘Oh, I’m sure you can’ sneer and you dropped to your knees, incensed. You dug your fingers into the sand and started sculpting out your own very cheery message into the muck.

When you were done, you waved a hand towards your proclamation and watched his brows pull together at the center into a teeny, pinched sort of expression. He let himself roll forward with the seafoam to lay more fully on the shore, and stared down at the mess you’d made like it was some strange code. Even reaching out to poke softly at the straight edge of a ‘T’ with one of his knife-sharp talons.

After a long moment of contemplation, he looked back up at you with an arched brow that was so unintentionally poised and not full of spite that it almost took your breath away. Who knew how pretty an already stunning face could become when it wasn’t twisted up in absolute vitriol? You shook away that absolutely damning thought in horror. That’s exactly what he’d want you to think. Siren, and all. Using his hotness to lure people onto his dinner table. Not you, baby. Because you were smart. And so gross from being stranded under island sunshine for a week that surely you’d taste like some absolutely rancid jerky at this point.

“Oh no,” you droned, and immediately that subtle curiosity of his ticked right back into irritation. “Two creatures from entirely different species and ecosystems have somehow managed to develop unique alphabets. What a completely unpredictable complication.”

The Siren puffed up like an angry lionfish and turned with a snarl to dive back into the shallows—making sure to whip his tail in your face and slam into the water with a huge splash as he went. The salt spray pelted down like rain and you snickered as it sloughed off your cheeks in rivulets, content to sit merrily in the wet sand beside your hastily scribbled: ‘Mermen Are Vicious Bitches. Hit Me if You Agree :)’

.

.

The next morning, there were more fish on the shoreline. Though these ones looked a bit less like they’d been dragged up by their souls and left to writhe in the wake of Siren-Screaming-Agony and more just like the unfortunate victims of a pair of too sharp claws.

You frowned down at a brown, sad-looking flounder that had clearly found itself at the very wrong end of a certain merman still swanning about in the bay not fifty feet away. It was mostly intact, and pleasantly plump for a flat, pancake-looking blob of muck. Your stomach gurgled and the thought of a nice, coal-charred, fillet really seemed quite nice. You chanced another peek at your resident Asshole, debating if it was worth swiping his snack. Another ominous rumble from your abdomen and you reached down to steal your prize and scuttle off deeper inland like a troll returning to its layer.

It didn’t take very long to get a small fire going, and within the hour you’d been fed and were more than ready for a cozy, full-bellied nap in the soft sand.

By the time you began to make your way back to the cove, the sun was high in the sky and you were already dreading sitting beneath its weighted rays for another afternoon. So you slowed your pace to a near snail crawl, dragging your feet as you went.

The little octopus from earlier was still swaying contentedly around the tide pool you’d shoved it into. It probably needed to be carried back out to the bay at some point so that it could swim back into the depths of the ocean, but the poor thing was just so small and round. Surely it’d get devoured by the first sharp-toothed thing that caught sight of it. Especially with your merman apparently being out for the blood of whatever other scaly things were swimming about in his temporary home. So for now you slipped it some small bits of leftover fish instead. You sat, crouched at the pool’s edge, and watched raptly as it grabbed the shredded bits of pale meat with its chubby tentacles to shove towards an eager beak.

“You’re the only friend I have left in the whole world,” you told the octopus miserably, wiping the greasy remnants of your lunch off your chin with a sigh.

The traitor hurriedly moved to snatch up the treat you’d offered it and hide itself away between some rocky crevices. You sighed louder. Rejected. What a time to be alive. 

.

.

The next morning, the Siren was singing again.

That familiar prickle danced its way up your arms, leaving pinpricks of goosebumps in its wake. Some pirates told tales of storms leaving their mark in such a way—that seasoned sailors could feel the tickle of thunder against their skin long before they could spot dark clouds on the horizon. You’d have to amend that little legend whenever you found your way back to The Rose Queen. Siren Sense was a lot cooler, anyways. Any idiot with arthritis could tell you when rain was due.

But either way, Mister Merman was back to idly circling the bay and calling into the distance. At least it wasn’t as miserable as it had been the other day—more of a leisurely pacing than the frantic, near-feral caterwauling that had soured your gut so terribly.

There was another fat fish on the shore. A bright, red snapper so brilliantly crimson that it was almost impossible to make out the garish wounds in its side. Almost. And even if it hadn’t been, the drooping, rust colored, rivulets dug into the sand would have been enough of a clue.

Why the Siren was bothering to leave his clawed-up kills at your feet like some overgrown cat dragging in mice, you had no idea. Maybe he was poisoning them, and subsequently you. Maybe he was bored and it was some sort of fishy enrichment. Maybe he just didn’t want to bother leaving dead things around to contaminate his favorite sunning spots, and tossing his leftovers in your vicinity was as close to a reliable dumpster as he could find on a remote island. Who’s to say.

Either way, you dutifully ignored the magical tingles racing up your shoulders and brought the newest fish back to your makeshift firepit. You grilled the snapper in silence, debating. Then you fed your octopus friend and returned to the beach, cooked fillets in tow.

You waited in awkward silence for a few moments, fish burning your palms, before raising your fingers to your lips and whistling loud enough to make your teeth ache. The mystical static faded from the air and you watched in pleasant (?) surprise as the Siren made his way back to where you’d set up camp. He rolled in with the tide, cresting on a gentle bit of surf and coming to rest neatly in the shallows—fins splayed out beneath him like a lord lying amidst his many silken robes. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at you with an arched brow and slanted frown.

You awkwardly extended a hand—roasted snapper still resting in your open palm and burning the absolute fuck out of your fingers.

“Uhm,” you said, feeling a bit too much like the local idiot trying to feed one of the rabid, wandering, strays around town. “Food?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes at you.

“Do you want food?” you tried.

The other brow joined the first, nearly rising all the way into his hairline. It wasn’t a pleasant sort of surprise.

“It’s better cooked?” you coaxed in the face of his outright constipated scowl. Be fed and full, you thought hopefully. Maybe then you won’t fucking look at me like I’m a boxed lunch.

He jabbed a sharpened, black talon in your direction, and then pointedly again angled up towards your mouth. Then back to the fish still roasting your poor cuticles straight off your fingers.

You blinked, a bit thrown.

“What? It’s supposed to be for me?”

He nodded, throwing in another one of those bombastically snarky eyerolls for good measure. ‘Obviously,’ that sneer said.

“Well,” you huffed, plopping down to sit cross-legged in the sand and offering up one of the fillets. “There’s plenty for both of us.” When he stared at you like you were attempting to serve him up a choice pile of literal dog shit, you wiggled your hand and entreated, “Please just take it before my skin melts off.”

The Siren huffed and reached out, plucking up the fish with the tips of his claws. He observed your meager meal as one might a particularly unappealing cockroach, and after a long moment, his nose scrunched (cute, you thought absently before immediately suffocating every wayward braincell that would dare call your murderous shore-neighbor anything of the sort) and he leaned forward to nip at a crisped, pink corner with the barest edge of one canine.

When your culinary creation didn’t immediately strike him dead on the spot, he took another, equally dainty bite. And then another. The tight pucker of his mouth eased as he chewed, and you watched as the harsh cut of his purple irises warmed with that same intrigue as they had when you’d first scribbled your foreign letters into the sand.

He readjusted his grip on the fish between his claws to get a better angle and took a proper bite, chewing thoughtfully. Before you knew it, you were watching him nip at the pads of his fingers, his gaze going a bit round and shocked when he realized that he’d devoured the entirety of it.

“See?” you hummed, tucking into your own portion with gusto. “Not all things humans come up with are terrible.” He harumphed and turned to glare back out over the bay, slouching into the surf with an expression that was most certainly not a pout. “But maybe you’d know that if you bothered to do anything other than murder and devour us on sight,” you chirped.

To which you were immediately doused with an armful of water for your troubles. The Siren glowered petulantly from where he’d just wave-bombed you, and then dove back into the deeper waters of the sandbar. He immediately started up his stupid singing all over again—pointedly keeping his chin high above the surface and splashing brine into your face anytime he looped close enough to shore.

“I don’t know why I bother,” you huffed, and ate your sopping snapper in grumpy silence.

.

.

There was a ship wrecked off the coast.

Nothing overly cool, and definitely only a small chunk of what had probably at one point been a rather impressive vessel. But it was something. The first change in pace you’d had in days and oozing with possibilities.

The only problem was that the great, rotting, hull of the thing was dug up into a jagged skerry about a hundred yards off the shore—wedged into the pointed rocks with no chance of any wave or breeze sending it adrift. You could swim perfectly well. I mean, living your life on a ship surrounded by tumultuous, depthless, ocean would have been a hugely stupid career move otherwise. The issue, naturally, was the thing currently making its home in these waters. Sharks and barracudas, blablabla. They were just animals, no matter how many teeth they had. The Siren had a grudge. And just as many teeth.

Right now, said spiky pain in your ass was lounging in the shallows like the froth was an elegant daybed made just for him—shredded fins swaying in the soft tides and his hair floating about him that same, white-gold halo that made him look far too peaceful for anyone’s good sense. He wasn’t singing today, which was great for the local wildlife population but terrible for your Siren Sense. Once you waded into the waves, you’d have no real way to keep track of him. Hope, maybe, that he didn’t think fucking with you was worth messing up whatever tan-line he had going on. But nothing concrete that you’d be willing to bet the safety of your limbs on.

You wiggled your toes in the sand and stared longingly out at the stupid, wrecked ship that was so stupidly close. If you swam your fastest you could probably make it there in under two minutes—less than that, even. But that was still more than enough time for the Siren to rake those dark claws of his across your throat and drag you down into the depths to drown.

Riddle’s angry, red face swam through your thoughts, and you could practically see him shoving that beloved law tome of his under your nose for the umpteenth time.

‘Rule 32, never make dangerous bets that you’re certain you won’t win, particularly if you are betting against a Blue Nosed Beetle.’

‘Rule 15, do not needlessly sacrifice your life in the name of curiosity, excluding—of course—if you hail from Cheshire or are a Cat.’

‘It’s only a dumb shipwreck,’ you thought miserably, if rationally. ‘It’s probably not even that cool.’

Your captain would be so proud.

.

.

The next morning you were rolling up the cuffs on your pants and wading into the cool shallows, silently lighting a candle in your heart for your beloved, steam-faced leader and promising that you would at the very least cover the costs of your own funeral so as not to inconvenience him further.

The waves lapped against your ankles and the waters themselves were shockingly clear and blue. You could practically see each grain of sand beneath your heels—make out each pointy rock and the little, red crabs that scuttled away from your tromping like civilians fleeing from the shadow of a leviathan. The Siren was back to singing today. Perhaps his poor, overworked throat simply needed a break every now and again. But either way, your Merman Magic Missive was working in full force. The hairs on your arms stood at full attention and you liked to imagine you could see them twitching in circles to follow his long, looping arcs through the bay.  

You made it up to your knees and waited, eyes scanning the open water and nose twitching like maybe you could smell the fucker. There was nothing but a familiar prickle along your shoulders and that deep sense of ‘tug tug tug’ with no answer, so you took a deep breath and pushed further, the water sloshing up to your hips, your chest, and finally you were floating—paddling slow and cautious towards the wreckage.

It really was insanely close. Even moving at your most cautious, sneakiest crawl, you’d made it nearly three-quarters of the way there within perhaps five minutes. And no signs of a vengeful, hungry Siren circling the waters beneath you either. More rules that perhaps that you’d have to tell Riddle might need some amending  once you finally made it back home to your crew. ‘Dangerous bets,’ who? ‘Needless sacrifice,’ what? You might as well have outsmarted the whole ocean.

As you moved closer, you could make out a strange coat of arms on the side of the hull that you didn’t recognize. Twining, silver songbirds soaring against the sparkly backdrop of an otherwise plain faced crest, which honestly looked far too delicate to be heading the broken remains of what was no doubt at one point an absolute monster of a vessel. You reached out to brush your fingers against the shining plaque and then you were underwater.

You fought the immediate impulse to gasp in surprise, because expediting the process of your inevitable drowning just seemed stupid even by your standards. There was a clawed hand wrapped around your calf yanking you down, and you squinted through a stream of panicked bubbles to see your terrible, horrible, completely thankless co-strandee snarling up at you with sharp teeth and a sharper flail of his delicate gills. Thankfully the water wasn’t all that deep, so by the time you’d been dragged to the bottom you were maybe only ten feet under. But still. It was the goddamn principle! And besides, you’d heard about enough drunks drowning in puddles to know that this was more than enough Liquid Death to put you in an early grave.

The Siren looped around you in tight circles, and you could feel the brush of his tattered fins against your skin like the ghostly fingers of a reaper trailing down your spine. You’d known he was big—giant, even. Long, and impressive, and built to rule the very depths he’d dragged you into. Large enough to wrestle with sharks and capsize lifeboats. Big enough, no doubt, to eat you whole and still be hungry enough for seconds.

The salt stung your eyes and you blinked hard to keep his vibrant, amethyst tail in focus. Would he strike from the back, where you couldn’t see? Or would he go right for your throat—a direct, full frontal, ‘fuck you, human’ if there ever was one. And honestly, what were you expecting? That a good deed and a few pieces of cooked fish would sway him from devouring you whole? Maybe the island sun had fried whatever remained of your rattled brain.  

He stopped in front of you and hissed—a stream of tight, tiny, bubbles jetting past his canines. You glared in petulant confusion, absolutely refusing to give your would-be murderer whatever reaction he was hoping for. His brow pinched into a tight, angry, v and he snarled again. You snarled back, and with that, the last breath in your lungs swooped out of you in a tight squeak. You choked, and struggled, and kicked at the claws holding you down. The Siren reared back, eyes widening in something that looked insultingly like genuine surprise, and you used his moment of hesitation to propel yourself off the sandbar and back to the choppy surface.

You gasped in a hasty breath, expecting to immediately be dragged back under. But when you weren’t pulled back down to your watery grave, you took in another and another. Gasping, and hacking, and spitting up seafoam. The Siren’s head crested the surface beside you and you flailed away, nearly pushing yourself under all over again. You paddled frantically, trying to keep your nose above the tide, and then suddenly there was something under you. You squawked and kicked it on instinct. The Siren snapped his pointy teeth in your face and you realized with a start that oh. That was him, wasn’t it? The long, winding, scaled muscles of his tail curled beneath your toes in what almost seemed like an attempt to keep you upright.

He stared at you with those unnervingly bright eyes of his—blonde hair curling softly at the edges where it plastered elegantly along his finned ears, and those too-long lashes dripping with small, sparkly, drops of salt water.

“What the hell is this bullshit?” you choked, coughing up more bubbly froth. “You don’t get to look so—so put together after trying to murder me!”  

The Siren huffed out something that the delusional, still half-drowned, part of you wanted to classify as a laugh. And then he organized that bemused expression back into its usual, haughty, iciness and began to carefully make his way back towards the shore—towing you along like a poor, little, lost buoy with nowhere else to go.

You let him drag you up into the sand and only flopped around a little. He flicked his tail at you and your dramatics and you turned on him with a fierce, waterlogged scowl—a bit more confident now that he didn’t have the home field advantage.

“What was that for! I just wanted to look at the ship! I wasn’t even doing anything to you!” you wailed. “I haven’t done anything to you at all! Ever! Why do you keep—" you collapsed back into the sand with a miserable whine that rattled all the teeth in your head, and ground the heels of your palms into your eyes until you saw stars.

After a long moment of nothing, you felt a gentle tap at your shoulder.

You looked back up with a start to see Mister Merman looking nearly sheepish.Or as much of an equivalent that his aloof mask of a face was capable of pulling off. The clawed finger resting at your collarbone dropped to the sand by your hip, and he carefully began to draw more of those squiggles. No, scratch that. Not the dancing, popping, ones from the other day. These actually looked sort of like the silver songbirds from that shipwreck. More jagged, certainly. But similar enough that you felt something a bit too coldly cautious to be confusion seep through your guts.

Once he was finished, he looked up and met your gaze—sharp, pointed. And then he reached back out and smeared the birds into nothing and shook his head, firm. His red lips moved slowly, exaggerated, again and again. And you could make out the vague shape of words you’d had shouted at you a hundred times over.

‘Not safe.’

That same, shivery, nervous feeling bit at your limbs.

“…okay,” you said after a moment. And then leaned forward to dig your own fingers into the sand, dutifully ignoring how your elbows knocked against his own.

‘Not safe,’ you wrote, and watched his eyes trace each letter like a treasure map.

There was another tap at your shoulder. And then he pointed to the words in the muck, then to himself.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, yes. You’re not safe either.”

He sighed dramatically enough to ruffle the ends of your still soaked hair. And then pointed to the words again, tapping at the ‘N’ with the curved tip of a claw.

“Nnnn?” you mouthed, confused.

He moved to the ‘o’ next and it clicked.

“You want me to teach you how to read my letters?” you asked, flabbergasted. Another sigh, like you’d dropped the weight of all the world on his pale shoulders. Or perhaps that your idiocy was enough to put that hearty mass to shame. You decided that you were still feeling a bit too much like you’d only just barely escaped a brush with death, dismemberment, and dinner plans to push your luck with sassing him back too harshly, and just blinked owlishly in dazed surprise. “But why?”

His purple eyes trailed in the direction of the shipwreck and something cutting and poisonous clouded his expression. He pointed to the words again.

‘Not safe.’

“Alright,” you said, looking out over the water with a strange sort of sinking feeling in your gut. You leaned forward and began to draw the alphabet at your feet. His tail twitched by your fingers and you ignored the soft brush of his still-healing fins. “This one’s an ‘A’, like in ‘Asshole’—"

Whomp went the tail as he cracked it across your knuckles like a school matron with a ruler. And you couldn’t help the startled burst of genuine, tinkling laughter that bubbled past your lips for the first time since you’d been dragged overboard.

.

.

[TAG LIST - CLOSED]

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[readychilledwine]

2 Truths and a Lie

SJM Villain's Week - Day 3 - Deception

Summary - Having Hunt in his dungeon wasn't enough for his former friend. He wanted to hit him where it would hurt the most.

Warnings - Stealing, lying by omition, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetration, power play, boarding dubcon, manipulation, sir/sub dynamics, choking, dumdification, probably something I am missing

A/n - Happy Day 3 of @sjmvillainweek I, uh, plead the 5th

🗡Villain's Week Masterlist🗡Master Masterlist🗡

You were fucked.

Completely and utterly fucked.

You ran faster down the alley, just hoping you could maybe make it inside of a building and fall into a crowd. It wouldn't give you much of a chance, but it would have to be enough of one.

You had no clue what was chasing you, nor who had sent it, but the target on your back had only grown since Hunt disappeared.

You hadn't spoken to your brother in close to 4 years. The only reason you knew he was even still alive was due to whispers of rumors.

Rumors of him and some starborn half fae female.

Rumors of him breaking free of that thorned halo that haunted him.

Rumors he couldn't be bothered To text you or return a call to confirm.

Some brother.

You took a sharp left, sneaking into a shop in the Eternal City before slowing down. You had never been stupid, a rebellious teen turned into a far too street smart female. You quickly snuck a black short dress from a rack slipping into the dressing room undetected. You changed as quickly as you could, forcing jeans down your long legs with a pout.

They were your favorite. But sacrifices had to be made.

Hunt was blessed with lightning. You were blessed with shifting. Your hair went from a dark black to a soft strawberry blonde, freckles appearing as you finished zipping the dress and snuck back out of the fitting room, past the gossiping workers and out the door.

“You aren't as clever as you think you are,” a deep voice fell into step with you. “I can take you somewhere safe.” You glared up at the blonde malakh.

“Pollux,” you said coldly.

“Little viper,” his hands were in his pockets, the rhythmic pattern of you two walking becoming the only noise between The two of you as his left hand slipped to your waist, guiding you wordlessly to the so called safety he was offering.

The apartment building he walked you into was lavish. Columns stood tall to give it a grand feel, a marble floor, a front desk connected to the leasing office. Even the elevator had a guard that just nodded at Pollux as he pressed the button to open the doors before pressing a “P1” button that glowed white.

“Mr. Fancy Pants over here,” you muttered at him. “Pressing a penthouse button.”

Pollux only glanced at you, “You've grown up.” His eyes roamed every inch of you, “How much of this is what you actually look like?”

You shifted your hair back, long dark waves replacing the strawberry blonde, freckles fading. “The rest is me.”

His hum was soft, “Can't say I don't prefer the blonde.” The elevator ticked slower after rushing past floors, a soft ping as each number went by before it slowed down to a surprisingly smooth stop.

You could only scoff as the doors opened and he ushered you inside, “Good thing I do not live to please you, Pollux.”

“Don't you,” he sat, unbothered by the bite in your response, arms flexing. “Live to please me, I mean?”

He smirked as your tongue clicked, the two of you studying each other, mapping out any signs of weakness. He was tense muscle under golden skin, blonde hair, a chiseled face. Physically, you could not find a single thing you didn't find just absolutely stunning. He scratched his stubble lightly, “Not going to respond, little viper? Or perhaps I should call you something different? Snakes don't tend to change their scales, do they?”

“You could call me my name?”

“I could.”

“Where is my brother?”

Pollux paused at that, “You don't know?”

“Clearly not,” your tone was clipped. All your street smart did not necessarily prepare you for the type of male sitting in front of you. The kind that so easily leaned his elbows on his knees, thighs slightly spread as he began to watch you.

“Your brother is with the asteri. In the dungeon,” the answer was vague, but it fell into line with what you last truly knew about Hunt and his job. “He was tied up at the moment. He sent me as soon as we received information you were being chased down.”

You only nodded, hugging yourself slightly,

“I heard rumors of him with some girl-”

Pollux moved to you, your chin in his hand, “That are just rumors. He had a play thing for a bit. That's where that came from.”

“He never answers my calls?”

“He's busy,” Pollux moved his hand from your chin to the strands of hair hanging in your shoulder. “You are such a pretty little thing, you know that?”

He was far too close to yours, his face angled perfectly. Teenage you, the one who dreamed of hooking up with Hunt's friends out of spite, she was screaming.

“I have other qualities,” your voice was weaker than intended.

“I don't really care about those right now.”

You didn't have time to breathe before he was on you. The battle for dominance was useless for you. He manhandled you with ease, a hand on the back of your neck holding you exactly where Pollux wanted. His lips tasted like methol, be it from cigarettes or tooth paste you weren't sure.

Pollux was intoxicating. The air of danger that surrounded the Hammer was no lost on you. This male, this powerful being was one of the favored malakh. A male so few got away with fucking with. And right now, he was yours.

He lifted you with practiced ease, moving you to another room without breaking the messy kiss he had you in. Her dropped you unceremoniously on the bed ripping his own shirt. Before you could even move to touch him, he had both of your wrists in on hand, forcing you down and laying them above your head, “They stay here.” The tone of his voice would stay with you, that deep baritone aching in your bones. “You don't move until I say you can, do you understand.”

“Yes, sir,” his gaze shot to your face at your response, a brow raising as he smirked.

“Well, you have one trait over your brother.” The stolen dress was ripped off of you, cheap fabric easily splitting in two. “Obedience.”

Pollux was never above lying to get what he wanted, and what he wanted right now was you. Be if for vengeance, for another way to hurt Hunt, or just his own selfish greed to claim and dominate beautiful things.

He knew if you had known where Hunt truly was, his hands wouldn't be exploring every dip and curve of your body. He wouldn't be mapping each scar and freckle like he was discovering new land. No. He'd be very much missing this opportunity with you. He'd lie to his own grave for this.

Fucking the sister of his traitor friend?

Priceless.

Pollux gently squeezed your breasts, “You're going to be the best girl for me, aren't you? Listen well and do as I say?”

Your eyes had started to get the hazy unfocused look, lips slightly parted as you nodded and looked at him. Heat had settled deep into your body, flowing through your veins like liquid fire. That feeling was becoming a drug. One you'd so rarely felt, but he was bringing out of you so easily.

Pollux began to kiss your jawline, memorizing every noise, every sensitive spot. He'd whisper them in your brother's ear later, brag to him about how he bit the spot just below your ear and you gasped for him, back arching like a desperate whore as he toyed with you. He would mark every inch of you, ripping at tender flesh on your neck until it bruised.

Each motion put your scent on him, his on you.

His kissed went lower, licking your collarbones before nipping the left the the right. His tongue licking down your chest until he reached his first destination. Pollux held eye contact with you as he licked the first sensitive bud, sucking your right nipple until it formed a perfect peak in his mouth. Once he was satisfied there, he switched sides, drinking in the noises you made for him as chills went through your body.

“Sensitive little thing,” he whispered the words into your skin, voice deep with his own lust. “You like when I kiss your body, princess?”

“Yes sir,” it was more of a moan than words, one slightly pained as he bit your side, flicking his tongue to soothe the mark he'd left on your ribcage.

His journey down your body didn't stop until your thighs sat over his wide shoulders, “Let's see if you taste as sweet as you're acting.” Torture. It was torture as his tongue dragged through you, licking at your most sensitive place. Pollux considered eating pussy an art form. One he so rarely treated Lidia to, but you, you he would savor. Licking every inch of you until he had his fill. Your clit, your entrance, you so frequently ignored labia. Pollux treated tasting you like he had paid for a 5 star meal. It had your toes curling as he moaned against you, your body arching.

That tightness you knew all too well began to settle In your stomach as he threw his forearm over your hips, stopping you from moving. He caught you whispering his name, the sound of it making him feel as if he were a god. One finger pushed into you, curling up to find your spot as he began running figure 8s with his tongue up and down your clit.

You were not silent when you unexpectedly came. You were a tidal wave, a silent scream falling into whimpers as he praised you through your high, his thumb and finger working at you bringing you down gently as he prepared you for his aching cock.

He couldn't get his pants off fast enough for either of you, regretting his choice to leave them on. He'd never felt this anxious during sex before. He was a confident male, cocky even. But you clearly saw why once he was bare. He gave you a look when your wrists moved, a silent warning of his earlier command. “What did I say?”

“They stay above my head, sir.” He followed your line of sight, smirked as he realized that your eyes were in him, hungry and waiting.

“That's my Good Girl,” he settled between your thighs, one leg being forced around his waist while the other went over his shoulder. “Breathe for me,” he wasn't gentle once he knew he was lined up. He entered you in one movement, watching as your eyes squeezed shut another scream tumbling from your lips as his heavy length filled every inch of you.

He was kind enough to give you a moment to breathe and adjust before one roll of his hips became another then another. The pace increased more and more as you laid there helpless to do anything but let him take and take, pulling you apart at the seams. He was shameless in this mission, his sole goal now to make your warm walls flutter around him. His hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him, “You watch me when I fuck you. Got it?” He smirked at your wordlessly nodding, the moans falling from your lips as he held your face there before moving that grip to your throat.

Pollux was electrical. He was magnetic. He was a force of nature, a storm you should have been afraid of, but here you were, below him, calling him sir as he overpowered you. The hand not holding your throat held your hip, forcing you to meet every movement he made, rougher and harder with each passing second.

You'd never last like this, not with the sight of his wings flaring behind him, feeling like some form of damnation instead of the salvation they were believed to represent. And Pollux knew. He could feel your body's response, feel you hugging him tighter, your walls beginning to twitch. He saw the moment your brain shut off, the moment he made you go cock dumb.

He decided then and there he would not kill you.

You were of no use to him dead.

This apartment was his, he would keep you here. Alive, aching, yearning. His new favorite toy.

“Please sir, may I come?” And those 5 words sealed that fate.

“You may, princess.” Pollux watched as you fell apart for him. He watched and counted each rule you broke. Hands moving you grip the wrist squeezing your throat. 2 spankings he'd give you later, swearing. Another spanking. Not thanking him. Another.

He counted each of those things again as he shut off the light, leaving you sleeping in his bed as he redressed without shower. The ride down to the dungeon felt like it was taking far too long, his smirk growing as he entered the room Hunt, Ruhn, and Baxian were hung up in. Pollux simply walked close to Hunt saying nothing as the shell of the Umbra Mortis sniffed him, his face falling farther as he did.

“Don't fucking touch her!”

“Already did,” Pollux replied smoothly as Athalar pulled on his chains, a new fire in him. “And I will again.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[harveybwabbit92]

Speedy ultra facts (Revised, with a few more facts):

4 out of the original 6 ultra brothers are actually related to each other.

Taro and Ace are brothers, Seven is their cousin.

Jack is married to one of Mother of Ultra's sisters making him Seven, Taro and Ace's uncle.

Seven has a sister and brother.

Seven was raised by his sister after his mother died.

Seven, Jack and Taro have children.

Seven is Zero's father.

Taro is Taiga's father

And Jack has an unnamed son.

(And I guess Ace counts too? since he's Ultraman Z's godfather.)

Taro and Ace are the sons of Father and Mother of Ultra.

Ace is adopted.

Mother and Father's real names are Ken and Marie.

Ultraman is a university professor.

Leo and Astra are twins and princes.

Zoffy is apparently the grandson of ultraman King.

Zoffy smokes (in the manga he does anyways)

An Ultra-baby appears in it's capsule for a few seconds at the end of Mega Monster Battle: Ultra Galaxy Legends in the crowd of ultras who have been unfrozen.

The baby parents are a red(or silver) father and a blue mother.

Jack is one of the few original ultra brother's who stays in regular contact with his human host.

Ultraman Mebius's favorite food is curry.

Zero has a childhood friend named Voice who is a musician.

Ultra's mouths can open and close considering they also need to eat and drink.

Father of Ultra is terrified of angering his wife.

Taro and Ace used to have a pet dog.

Apparently there are cats and dogs in the Land of Light, though they look very different from their Earth counterparts. (Cos Aliens)[though in the comics the pup looks like a normal dog, but in the show it looks like white puffball wit' spider legs.]

Mother of Ultra has at least two sisters, one of whom married jack and the other is Seven's mother.

80 is adopted (at least in the manga adaption he is.)

80's adoptive father's name is Ultraman Red and he's Father's best friend.

Color timers were surgically grafted onto an ultra's chest in early childhood. (Taro has his as a young child in Ultraman Story and Ultraman boy has one...but then there's Geed whose timer really was grafted onto him after birth...Ah, I'm not going down this rabbit hole.)

{(Okay, I went and reviewed the wiki and some other sources on this the Color timer thing has been sort of retconned, They changed the age for Color timers to teen or adult Ultras who have the choice if they want to have a color timer or not (there are lot civvy ultras who don't have a color timer), and that it's mainly for Ultras whose jobs require them to travel off planet or for Ultras who are active warriors in the IGDF. but for the earlier installments (like the original 60s lore) it was at birth.)}

The reason Ultraseven doesn't have a color timer is cos he wasn't meant to be a fighter. His original mission was to scout out and draw a map of the milky way galaxy.

The creator of Pokemon was inspired by Ultraseven, in fact the reason it's called Pokemon is because the name Capsule monsters was already copyrighted by Tsuburaya.

Most Ultras are born through gestation capsules.(However according some of the novels *they might be outdated and thus not considered canon anymore* There are a few that still make babies and give birth the ol'fashion way.)

Fuma, Gai and Jugglus are from the same planet O-50.

The inhabitants on O-50 Aren't born ultras their original forms, As much as it sucks are human-like in appearance, but they do have super abilities to sort of make up for it. The only true way to become an Ultra on O-50 is by being chosen by the Light ring or The voice of light to become one.

The Light Ring/Voice of light is this big blue halo that floats over the planet O-50 that sometimes gives people super powers... ([there's not a lot info on O-50 other then the few snippets from the R/B novel, Orb saga and Fuma's voice drama, so work with me here])

O-50's trial to become an Ultra requires one or more people who must climb to the very top of the planets highest and deadliest mountain: Crusader's peak. Now, they can do this completely on their own or be summoned personally by the Light ring. (According to Fuma a lot of people fail the trial because they either kill each other or die on the climb up.) Anyway when they reach the peak the Ring will pass judgement if they're worthy or not, if they're found worthy then it grants them the power they need to turn into an ultra....If not then, it'll electro yeet them off the mountain like it did with Jugglus.

Though not inhabitants of O-50 themselves, the original R/B/G siblings crashed landed there and got the power to transform into their ultra and Kaiju forms, from the Light ring while to fighting off a monster they'd accidentally woke up while fighting off a gang that had chased them off their home planet.

According to Fuma, Grigio is considered an idol on O-50.

Now on to U-40 Where the inhabitants are called Ultra-people who are all born human in appearance, they're just ultras but human size.

the ancient inhabitants of U-40 through unknown means created the Ultra mind. (It's a core of light that works similarly to the plasma spark.) which helped them achieve a higher state of spiritual evolution that transformed them into ultras.

Unlike their M-78 counter parts the U-40 ultras can't naturally grow into giants; except for this small group of eight warriors who have achieved the ability to grow giant, though much like the creation of the Ultra mind this isn't fully explained on how or why this can happened. (though in Titas's backstory it hints at that it might be connected to resolve and finding balance within one's self.).

Despite that the few inhabitants of U-40 that can turn giant prefer to stay small or in their human forms rather then their giant forms.

Unlike the land of light U-40 still has it's sun and thus has day and night cycles, though one of it's two moons was destroyed by the Heller Army (the bad guys of The⭐Ultraman anime.).

[.....Though, I think I heard somewhere that the Land o light Ultras use technology that's similar to switchable film windows or something to mimic a night-cycle (Well, indoors they do anyways.) but I could be misremembering.]

Titas is a dark giant.

Titas was born in the dark nebula to two soldiers in the Heller Army but his parents didn't want him to follow in their footsteps, so they sent him as an infant to U-40 where he could grow up safely and choose his own path.

Ultraman X possibly dated an alien space cat monster Mu who looks like a cross between a Beholder from DnD and a cat, she also had memory erasing farts.

X doesn't remember dating Mu...

Ultraman thought humans were too primitive to have develop the ability to fly, He was proven wrong moments later by getting hit in the face by a jet being flown by his host Shin Hayata.

Ultras aren't completely made of energy, they actually have skeletons and organs that are sort similar to a human's but also having a few extras that are very alien.

Ultras stop aging at around 10000 years and 1 ultra year is equivalent to 300 human years.

[cristalconnors]

ALBUMS OF THE YEAR, 2023

Best Songs of 2023 can be found here.

Honorable Mentions (alphabetical): Black Rainbows, Corinne Bailey Rae // Heaven is a Junkyard, Youth Lagoon // Love in Exile, Arooj Aftab, Vijay Iyer, Shahzad Ismaily // New Blue Sun, André 3000 // Radical Romantics, Fever Ray // Rat Saw God, Wednesday // SAVED!!!, Reverend Kristin Michael Hayter // Scaring the Hoes, JPEGMAFIA and Danny Brown // This Stupid World, Yo La Tengo // trip9love…???, Tirzah // With a Hammer, Yaeji // WOW, Kate NV

20. *1, RẮN CẠP ĐUÔI

19. GIRL WITH FISH, FEEBLE LITTLE HORSE

18. THE LAND IS INHOSPITABLE AND SO ARE WE, MITSKI

17. ATLAS, LAUREL HALO

16. BURNING DESIRE, MIKE

15. CENSUS DESIGNATED, JANE REMOVER

14. WHY DOES THE EARTH GIVE US PEOPLE TO LOVE?, KARA JACKSON

13. DESIRE, I WANT TO TURN INTO YOU, CAROLINE POLACHEK

12. OH ME OH MY, LONNIE HOLLEY

11. DID YOU KNOW THAT THERE’S A TUNNEL UNDER OCEAN BLVD, LANA DEL REY

10. SUNTUB, ML BUCH

9. PICTURE OF BUNNY RABBIT, ARTHUR RUSSELL

8. SPACE HEAVY, KING KRULE

7. RAVEN, KELELA

6. PRAISE A LORD WHO CHEWS BUT WHICH DOES NOT CONSUME; (OR SIMPLY, HOT BETWEEN WORLDS), YVES TUMOR

5. MY BACK WAS A BRIDGE FOR YOU TO CROSS, ANOHNI AND THE JOHNSONS

4. MAPS, BILLY WOODS & KENNY SEGAL

3. JAVELIN, SUFJAN STEVENS

2. FOUNTAIN BABY, AMAARAE

1. SOFTSCARS, YEULE

[lilliancdoodles]

The final QSMP Family tree. (version 4 here)

Click to get a better view of the lines. Translations for other qsmp languages below the cut (provided my Google Translate (early on) and DeepL) as well as some of my final thoughts for this passion project.

I saw that V4 started going around again and i've had this one almost done for months. I wasn't planning on sharing it cause the server was closed and cause i was worried some people would take it too seriously. But i thought, fuck it, why not.

This was a fun thing i was doing for me. I took it as a challenge to map out this crazy ass family tree. The relationships are based on the wiki and what i saw. I'm sorry if something is wrong, at this point im not going to redo it.

I didn't update it for the last week of the server. It would be too depressing adding that many halos. Imagine this as what the tree would look like if the server was still going now. <3 I mostly use this as a massive color picker for any qsmp member i would want to draw, and at least a small reference of their face anyway, the tree was just an excuse.

Fun fact: In making this i used 826 layers. Some were combined and stuff, so there aren't 826 layers active, but 826 layers were created at some point or another

[kef-meister]

Metroid Prime .... 4!

While they aren't Star Fox or F-Zero fans (I see you), the fans of the Metroid series have had their patience tested multiple times over the series' lifespan. On June 13th 2017, Metroid Prime 4 was announced to the world. Now, June 18th 2024, Metroid Prime 4 has been given a release window: 2025.

It's been seven very long, very interesting years. But instead of dwelling on that, it's time to go frame-by-frame on the release trailer and give some notes on why that particular part stands out to me. I've gotten so hyped I've gotten analytical. This is what it means to go even further Beyond. ________________ 1. "Cosmic Year 20X9 Galactic Federation Research Facility" Metroid (1986)'s manual states that the Galactic Federation was established "in the year 2000 of the history of the cosmos", and that the original story of Metroid starts in 20X5.

Given that the Prime games are allegedly happening in the story-lines between Metroid and Metroid II … there's a continuity error with the main series, which I'm hoping is addressed rather than hand-waved.

Metroid II: Samus Returns (2017) has a trailer claiming it took place "less than a year" since the previous adventure. So that'd be in either 20X5 or 20X6 - the latter of which would place it in the same year as Metroid Prime: Federation Force. If that's the case, then Super Metroid would take place in 20X6/20X7 … but Prime 4 takes place in 20X9???

That this sequence takes place on a Galactic Federation Research Facility is VERY interesting though, especially considering the Big Reveal later on. 2. Samus' Gunship!!! I've watched this frame-by-frame and I'm convinced that the ship which is landing is pre-rendered, whereas the stationary ship allowing Samus out is the actual model. It's an incredibly clever trick to save on resources.

The ship itself is the Hunter-class gunship from Metroid Prime 3! What stands out here is that Samus is leaving the ship from the TOP panel - where she previously would enter and exit this ship from the bottom lift just behind the cockpit. I think it's also missing the Ship Grapple upgrade. Then there's the recreation of Metroid Prime's intro with Samus' space jump; the music; the zoom-in; HUD turning on ... Uuugggh, 11/10. Give it to me now. Put it into my veins and make me a weird hybrid.

3. Samus' Power Suit! It's Metroid Prime 3's Varia Suit, right down to the missile launcher design. This makes me feel VERY certain this story is going to take place very shortly after Prime 3's conclusion - like how Super Metroid follows up almost immediately after Metroid II.

The Morph Ball seems to behave almost exactly like it does in Prime 1 with its wonky physics. Loving this, seems to suggest the Prime 1 Remaster had a very solid engine ready to re-use. Prime 2/3 remaster when? 4. The Heads-up Display The HUD actually matches Samus' actual visor design! After Prime 1, the visor changed shape but the HUD didn't - now it has the extra notch at the top. It's higher contrast; Energy goes into the top notch, and the Map (now all blue!) has directions on it now.

Missiles take up one of the four slots on the left is weird. Maybe there's less Beams. The HUD doesn't seem to react when Samus switches between Beam and Missiles???

The Combat Visor makes a great distinction between which things are friendly, which are hostile and what you're locked onto on its little mini-map in the top-left.

The Scan Visor isn't intrusive with its overlay - and shows 2D images instead of 3D ones. Seems to make a better distinction between things you have and haven't scanned yet.

Going off of Metroid Prime Remastered, I legitimately think there's a team at Retro Studios doing their best in regards to (visual) accessibility. Love that. 5. Space Pirate Action Scenes! These tube-tastic dipshits keep looking more and more like Halo Elites and it bothers me, but they're here and awful! Blowing up a door!

Around 1:05 there are Galactic Federation humanoids wheeling away a thing. We like things here. We also have some friendlies fighting alongside Samus here, but they're most clear on the minimap.

6. The Big Reveal Later On Holy shit it's Sylux MetroidPrimeHunters. Holy shit, it's about time this fucker showed up instead of being a 'secret ending' cameo. I am absolutely loving the guitar riff in the background for the stinger here.

I'm very convinced those floating jellies are Mochtroids - not Metroids. It'd explain why they aren't latching onto anything. The biggest question is whether Sylux used the egg he stole in Federation Force - or this GF facility has been making Metroids. The GF will never learn. 7. To Go Even Further Beyond Samus has left the building. In this shot she's still in the Varia Suit. These avians on-screen have longer necks and brighter plumage than the 'birds' we've seen on Talon IV; there's no other creatures on-screen.

BONUS: The logo looks like the rendering of a black hole. That's probably not important at all.

Okay thank you for reading. See you next mission!

[monarchetype]

The Magnus Archives Index Card fan art - The Entities

Check out my first index card drawing for TMA here, from back when I had no clue what was going on.

Descriptions and explanations under the cut.

I actually started this one a few weeks ago when I first listened to Episode 111 (aka the worldbuilding infodump) but I only got around to finishing it today. From left to right, top to bottom:

Row 1 Column 1: Two silver lines reminscent of magnetic tape form a helix of eyes against a black background, which also has smaller, floating eyes. Representing The Eye, of course.

Row 1 Column 2: A purple coffin covered in silver chains, against a blue background. Representing the Buried, with the blue representing the "drowning" and "deep ocean" aspects of it.

Row 1 Column 3: A combat knife cutting a red tear across a gauche pattern of colors that is remiscent of both camouflage and abstract country maps. Representing the Slaughter, both at the personal and larger scales.

Row 1 Column 4: A candle emitting gray smoke against a similarly gray background, with a small pile of black ash at its base. Representing the Desolation.

Row 1 Column 5: A black, unmarked gravestone on bare earth, with skeletal hands reaching towards it from a white void. Representing the End.

Row 2 Column 1: A single claw reaching out from a curtain of leaves, blood dripping from the tip. Representing the Hunt.

Row 2 Column 2: A black spider silhouette on a silver web, against a red background. Representing the Web. Not gonna lie, I thought I was so cool making the background the color of blood, and then I realized it just looked like Spider-Man. Oops.

Row 2 Column 3: A gold comedy mask against a multi-colored striped background reminiscent of a circus's color palette. The mask has two red marks on either side, reminscent of the face paint of the famous clown Grimaldi. Representing the Stranger.

Row 2 Column 4: A spiraling pattern of rectangles color yellow, green, and pink, in a pattern that isn't quite a pattern. The center has a circle that might be a doorknob. Representing the Distortion.

Row 2 Column 5: The dark silhouette of a person's head and shoulders against a grey background, with a black silhouette of a dead tree branch hanging over them. Representing the Lonely.

Row 3 Column 1: The upper half of an open mouth, vaguely human but with sallow orange-y skin, and molars at even distances around the rim. Representing the Flesh.

Row 3 Column 2: A sickly yellow-green and blue hive with silver protusions from the lowermost combs, against a purple background. Representing the Corruption.

Row 3 Column 3: A drawing reminscent of the black hole photo, of a black circle with warm colored clouds surrounding it, but with additional black lines akin to rivers of darkness pouring into the center from space. Representing the Dark.

Row 3 Column 4: A lightning bolt against a gradient that goes from black to blue to white. Representing the Vast.

Row 3 Column 5: A circle vaguely resembling planet Earth, with blue oceans and a grey-green continent, overlaid by an interlocking nuclear hazard symbol and three plastic waterbottles. The planet is haloed in fire. Representing the Extinction.

Some of these I'm more proud of than others; the Dark, the Desolation, and the Lonely in particular I think turned out really well. I'm also really proud of the concept for the Eye and the Distortion, although the execution could've been a bit better. (I was actually trying to go for a regular pattern when coloring in the Distortion and just goofed, but then I realized that actually made more sense. Happy accident!) The Extinction in particular looks sloppy, but hey, I'll do better next time.

[ladykailitha]

Oh For a Muse of Fire! Part 12

Thank you so much for the love this story has been getting. I love every comment and tag. You guys are the best!!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9 Part 10  Part 11

*

“They want us to record a demo?” Jeff asked for the hundredth time since the agent had talked to them.

They were in the garage they used for practice the next day. They still were on the high of suddenly having an agent. Something that they certainly wouldn’t have had without The Queen’s Crown.

“Holy shit!” Gareth said, his voice high from the excitement. “They want us to record a demo.”

“Hell yeah, they do!” Eddie said clapping a poor stunned Brian on the shoulder.

They sat in stunned silence for a couple of minutes.

“This doesn’t mean we’ve made it,” Brian said softly, barely above a whisper.

“No,” Eddie agreed. “But making a demo to shop around to all the labels is a hell of lot closer than we were two weeks ago.”

Gareth let out a shuddering breath. “I thought that song would do it for us, you know. That it would put us on the map.”

“Hey,” Jeff said. “It still might. We just have to knock the recording out of the ballpark too.”

“Think of it as a campaign,” Eddie suggested. “You found the magical item, now you just got to get to the final boss. There’ll be other adventures along the way, but we’ll get there.”

They all nodded.

*

Steve was set to start his painting. Eddie was strewn out on a bed of red satin, his hair a halo around his head, his body beautifully stretched. Steve yearned.

He yearned to press his lips on the indent of Eddie’s collar bone. To taste the line where hip met leg. To run his fingers through those dark locks. To bring a flush to those pale cheeks.

Steve bit down on his lip. He couldn’t fuck this up. Not like what he did last year. He had to paint the whole thing. His face, his thighs, his cock. Steve couldn’t cover anything up or place anything in the frame that cover any part of Eddie.

Everything else? Was completely up to interpretation. He could Lucifer fallen from heaven (if you wanted to torture yourself with painting wings). He could be fair Lysander asleep from Puck’s flower. He could be from any myth, legend or story.

Steve had chosen Eros asleep when Psyche comes to him the first time. Because if there was anyone who fit the god of desire and love, it was Eddie.

He got to work on sketching Eddie’s outline. Choosing the scene carefully. And then when he was home he would work on painting the bed, using an old catalogue as reference for the four poster bed he wanted.  

Every time Joyce walked by when he was painting Eddie, she would nod her approval and walk on.

*

“Fuck, Chrissy!” Eddie cried, burying his face into the throw pillows on her sofa. “The way he looks at me makes it very hard not to get aroused. And I cannot get aroused. I’ve tried thinking of horror movies, cataloguing my band t-shirts in order of when I got them, or even Jeff in a tutu!”

She patted his head gently. “Is this beer, ice cream, or Chinese food freak out?”

Eddie raised his head thoughtfully. “Chinese food.”

Chrissy nodded and went to go make their order. She squeezed onto the sofa between his head and the armrest. She began threading her fingers gently through his hair.

“Do you think he’s doing it on purpose? Like to fuck with you?” she asked softly. “Or you think he has the hots for you so bad it’s leaking out all over the place?”

Eddie slowly sat up next to her and put his head on her shoulder. “I want to believe it’s the latter. But we really haven’t done much except grab the occasional coffee. We text and call all the time, but I don’t know what means.”

“Have you told him you’ve had a crush on him for awhile?” Chrissy asked. Her and Pearl spent most of their shifts together complaining about how their best friends were morons that kept making googly eyes at each other.

“No...” Eddie said with a sigh, dragging his hands over face. “Because of the nude thing.”

“What’s up with the nude thing that prevents you from going after what you want?” She shifted on the sofa to prop her head up on her fist, her elbow on the back of the sofa.

“It’s already hard enough keeping everything down,” he gestured vaguely below his waist, “but add actually knowing what he tastes like, knowing what his skin feels like under my hands, my lips, my tongue? It would take all of two fucking seconds of him looking at me with those bedroom eyes and I’d be harder than that god damn concrete floor.”

Chrissy giggled. “Yeah, I could see how that would be a problem. That’s the best part about being a woman, when we get aroused, it’s a lot harder to tell.”

Eddie scoffed. “Which also makes it the worst part about being a woman because then it means the other person is fucking clueless.”

“Mostly guys,” she agreed.

“Are you glad you’re a lesbian?” he teased, going into tickle her sides.

She squealed with laughter and batted him aside. “Knock that off.”

Just then the doorbell rang. “That’s our food. Saved by the bell.”

Chrissy hopped up to get the food and paid. She set their food on the coffee table and began going through the boxes.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Eddie said. “I could have at least covered the tip.”

Chrissy laughed. “Babe, you’re working part time as model and getting paid by the gig. Save your money. I get paid $15 an hour plus tips. Believe me when I say, I’ve got this.”

He kissed her cheek. “I’m glad the Queen’s Crown is working out for you, sweetie. You seem so much happier since you’ve started working there.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “And Diamond is thinking of hiring a third bartender things are going so well. It used to be that they only needed the one on week days and two on Fridays and Saturdays, which is when Diamond would step in and help. But with how well Garnet and I get on, we have more people coming in on the week days and we’re getting better tips, too. So Diamond wants to bring in a third so that Garnet leaves we’ll still have two at the bar.”

“Wow,” Eddie said. “I’ve been stuck in the same place for so long...” he spread out his hands, “I forgot what freedom was. We’ve been in the studio recording the last couple of weeks working on our demo to be shopped around.” He sighed heavily. “I’ve writing every moment I can. Hell, most of my best lyrics come from me just lying there for three hours. Well...the ones that don’t have Steve in them, anyway.”

Chrissy laughed. “Oh, I’m sure the lyrics that come from those classes are way to risque for radio.”

Eddie blushed and shoved hair in front of his face. “Shit, Chris. I don’t know.”

She ate her food thoughtfully watching Eddie push his food around. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “So what’s the real problem?” He looked up at her confusion. “I know you. There is something else that’s bothering you, love. You’re wound up so tight.”

Eddie shrugged. “I don’t know.” He set his food down and clasped his hands together, looking down at his feet.

She bumped him again. “You just talked about the freedom to write music, to get the chance to really do something with your life. But I don’t see it in your features, babe.”

“What happens to Steve if I do get a record deal and have to start touring?” he muttered mournfully. “What happens if we’re more than friends when we leave? I just feel torn apart. Having to chose between the life I’ve always dreamed, and my man of my dreams. I don’t know if I would chose touring with the guys if it came down it.” He threw his arms around her. “I would chose Steve every time and that scares me.”

“Oh.” She set her own food on the floor and wrapped her arms him. “Oh, sweetie. That’s why you have to talk to him. Because it sounds to me like those questions have answers only he can give.”

Eddie let out a sob. “What if the answer is that he doesn’t want to try because he doesn’t want to be left behind?”

She kissed the top of his head. “How would you be leaving him behind? Just because he stays in one place while you tour, doesn’t mean you’ve left him behind. It just means you’ve given yourself a home to come back to.”

Eddie looked up at her in awe. “Oh.” He snuggled in close. “You’re the best friend an idiot could ask for.”

She poked his side until he squirmed. “You’re not an idiot, Eddie. Anymore than you were an asshole about Steve. You can only work with the knowledge you have. And yeah, maybe some of your choices were pretty fucked up, you were able to move past it and become friends.”

Eddie let out a shuddering breath. And then another. “I love you, Chrissy.”

“I know, sweetie,” Chrissy murmured, kissing the top of his head.

*

“You wanted to know who Garnet is,” Jonathan snapped. “So that’s why we’re here.”

Nancy sighed. “Doesn’t this go against the bar’s rules or whatever?”

Jonathan threw his arms in the air. “I don’t care at this point. They all know who I am and I know who they are. Because shit happens outside of work sometimes and it gets revealed.”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “I’ll just go to the bar tonight like Onyx suggested.”

Jonathan furrowed his brow. “No. Absolutely not. Because if you do, you’ll get upset and if you get upset, you’ll make a scene and if you make a scene Diamond will ban you.”

It was Nancy’s turn to throw her arms in the air. “Can’t you just tell me who it is?”

“Because you wouldn’t believe him,” a warm, gentle voice said behind her.

She whirled around and gasped. “Steve!”

Steve smiled sadly. “Hey, Nance.”

She looked back and forth between Jonathan and Steve in shock. “He’s Garnet?”

Both men nodded.

“Pure coincidence,” Jonathan said. “I had been working at the bar for a year when we needed a new bartender. Steve came in with Robin and they were both hired.”

Nancy’s eyebrows shot up. “Robin works there too?”

“Yup!” Steve said with a smile. The smile slowly slid from his face. “Look. I know me turning out to be gay was hard on you. Especially with how it all came out. But just remember, I didn’t come out because I wanted to, it was because I forced to.”

Nancy buried her head in her hands, she looked up at him, anger sparking in her eyes. “If you hadn’t tried to be a hero...”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear you say that it would have been better for a girl to be raped and not realize I’m gay over what I did,” Steve snarled.

She opened her mouth to refute him but no sound would come out.

“I’m sorry it ruined your life, Nancy,” Steve said. “But it wasn’t just your life that was ruined. Do you know long it took for me me to walk down the street without people whispering behind their fingers? How long it took to be able to look at myself in the mirror because of the scars around my neck? I’m sorry I’m the reason you can’t trust Jonathan, but fucking hell Nancy, you aren’t as big as the victim you are making yourself out to be.”

Jonathan touched her elbow. “I didn’t know you felt this way. You need to talk to someone, Nance. That was some pretty messed up shit I just heard.”

Her lip began to quiver. “I didn’t mean that. I swear I didn’t. Because you’re right, that was so mess up.” She let out a shuddering breath. “The newspaper has someone...I’ll give him a call.”

Steve reached out and held open his arms to her. Nancy wavered a moment, looking to Jonathan. He nodded and she ran for Steve’s arms. He wrapped her up in a fierce hug.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” she whispered. “I’ve just been so angry for so long.”

He kissed the top of her head. “You’ve got a good boyfriend there, Nance. Take advantage of that, okay?”

Nancy nodded. “Okay.”

He gave her a brief squeeze and let her go. “I’ve got to get to class. But you take care of yourself, you hear?”

She smiled and let Jonathan lead her away.

Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Epilogue

Tag List: @artiststarme @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @itsall-taken @m-owo-n @zerokrox-blog @runyousillydetective @grimmfitzz @wonderland-girl143-blog @sapphirecobalt-1 @scheodingers-muppet @victor-thee-corvid @apricottree @bookbinderbitch @sleepyboosstuff @biatcgh @pixiefallingupthestairs @grtwdsmwhr @thepainisspicy @carlyv @eboyawstenn @bisexualdisastersworld @bidisastersworld @abstractnaturaldisaster @evix-syne666 @nerdsconquerall @lololol-1234 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @a-little-unsteddie @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @elluminis @tailsfromthecrypt @danili666 @plyerice27 @alittlegreyfish  @n0-1-important @no-upper-limit-to-stupidity @maya-custodios-dionach @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @heaven428 @thedragonsaunt @ceaselessly-watching @imfinereallyy

[halopedia]

Did You Know that several remakes of Halo 3 maps were concepted for Halo 4, with some even entering preliminary development?

Intended as a DLC map, Standoff received an early blockout for playtesting, and seemed to be a fairly faithful recreation of the original.

Another blockout was made for a map called "Fortress", which seemed to be a spiritual successor to Sandtrap.

Though there is no evidence of further development of the map, a remake of Narrows was thoroughly concepted, with at least 9 pieces of art produced.

Finally, the control tower from Last Resort was concepted, but no other evidence of an intended remake ever emerged.

[dinisuciyanti]

Hallo teh din. Aku penggemar tulisan teh din yang amat sangat related dgn kehidupan aku. Btw aku 25 thn perempuan dan sekarang ngajar di sekolah swasta dgn gaji yang minim.

Teh din aku lulusan ppg yang sekarang bisa ikut tes asn di gel 2 dengan adanya mapping. Mapping ini adalah bertujuan untuk pemerataan tenaga guru seluruh indonesia dr lulusan ppg prajabatan, ppg mandiri dll (jd bisa ambil dimnapun dgn mapping ini dan bisa war lokasi baik di domisi atau bahkan luar pulau)

Sejujurnya aku lagi galau banget dengan restu orang tua kalau aku harus ambil mappingan di luar pulau.

- Ambil mappingan di domisili dengan formasi sedikit dan peminat banyak dan persentase lolos kecil.

- Ambil di luar pulau dengan formasi banyak dan persentase lolos juga kecil tapi pasti biaya hidup mahal dan jauh dr orangtua yang mulai senja

Belum lagi kehidupan percintaan, aku masih jomblo dr 4 thn terakhir ini. Capek banget hidup kalau tdk disandarkan dengan rasa syukur yg mendalam.

Teh din, Adakah saran aku harus bagaimana ? ಥ_ಥ

Jika sedang senggang semoga teh din berkenan membalas pesan ini, saya akan menunggu dengan senang hati. Terimakasih teh din semoga teh din selalu sehat juga bahagia✨💛

Halo anon, terimakasih sudah jadi pembaca tulisan ku ya.

Soal lokasi ppg, aku ada beberapa teman yang ppg juga, jadi ada sedikit gambaran. Menurutku, ketika kamu memilih jadi guru, ya emang mesti jadi asn kalau mau "sejahtera".

Untuk case mu, tanya ke orangtua mu, yang penting jadi asn (dimanapun), atau asn di dekat rumah.

Kalau yang penting jadi asn, 50% masalah hilang. Tinggal di kamu nya. Apa kamu mau mencoba hidup jauh dari keluarga, dengan segala konsekuensinya. Hidup sendirian di tempat baru itu gak selalu buruk. Kadang kamu bisa menemukan ketenangan dari tidak se-rumah dengan keluarga terdekat.

Kalau ternyata harus di dekat rumah, harus asn, kamu harus kasih penjelasan kalau itu "tidak mudah" karna formasi kecil dan saingan banyak. Pastikan ortu mu tau soal itu, bukan hanya soal "bertitel asn" tanpa tau war nya seperti apa.

Usia 25 masih muda banget, masih banyak hal yang bisa di-eksplor. Gausah takut dengan pindah pulau kamu akan jomblo. Kalo kamu gak bergaul sama penduduk sekitar, gak kenalan dan gak menjalin pertemanan, ya mungkin iya kamu akan kesepian disana.

Semoga membantu ya. Pilih yang bisa kamu jalani, dengan segala pertimbangan yang ada. Sukses!

15 Desember 2024

[jodjuya]

I'm officially a hater. Every Halo game since the very first one is full of bullshit.

My many problems with Halo 4, as I experience them:

FOUR VIDEO GAMES IN A SERIES! FOUR DIFFERENT CONTROLLER MAPPINGS!!! MICROSOFT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU???

What is the compass needle even pointing to on 117's assault rifle? we're adrift in open space...

WHY ARE THERE MOTHERFUCKING QUICK TIME EVENTS IN THIS GAME? FUCK YOU!

"these Covenant seem more fanatical than the ones we've fought before" - how the fuck can you tell??

Why did they give Cortana baby-face and big tits?? Pick a direction, Microsoft!! She can be prepubescent or postpubescent but not both of them simultaneously!

Why am I supposed to feel any sort of emotional attachment to Cortana anyway? She's just a Microsoft Clippy with blue boobs stuck on 🙄

"I'm the only AI generated from a clone" I'm vibrating with rage at how goddamn stupid that is.

I THINK YOU LITERALLY HAVE MORE PRESSING PROBLEMS THAN RETURNING TO HALSEY TO FACTORY-RESET YOUR AI WAIFU, MASTER CHIEF! YOU ARE EVADING HOSTILE ALIEN FORCES ON A RANDOM PLANET GOD KNOWS WHERE! JUST GET A NEW AI WAIFU WHEN YOU GET HOME! FUCK

"[Unknown alien transmission]'s behaviour is odd!" - how the fuck do you know that Cortana??? This is your first time encountering this transmission, how do you know it's not supposed to be like that?

Maybe the reason all these aliens are so hostile to you, Master Chief, is because the very first guy you saw you punched in the jaw and threw down an elevator shaft! Would it kill you to just try saying "hello" first?

Lmfao @ Cortana calling out the Chief for the exact same thing literally seconds later

"Requiem! At least we know where we are now!" - my guy you have no fucking idea where you are

WHY THE FUCK DOES HALO HAVE CINEMATIC 3RD-PERSON MELEE ATTACKS NOW?! JUST CLOBBER THE FUCKING GUY AND MOVE ON!

This is something I really disliked in Halo 3 too, but those invisible barriers that hard block you from taking vehicles indoors, even if you do manage to scrape them past the non-invisible barriers. Let me drive a Ghost indoors!

Why can't they maintain my weapon loadout on either side of a cutscene? Halo 3 handled this really well.

But here in Halo 4 I take my lovely SAW and my lovely Fuel-Rod Cannon into a cutscene and come back out of it with an assault rifle and pistol. 😒😒😒

• Seriously, why does Cortana have the face of a nine year old child and the body of a twenty-nine year old woman?! Am I taking fucking crazy pills here??

I can forgive video game developers being horny, but not when it's this gratuitously bullshit

(and the voice of a 59 year old woman, going by the game's opening cutscene of Dr Eugenics' interrogation lmao)

The new forerunner enemies are cool enough, but it really feels like they copied Borderlands' homework with their design.

Why is Cortana so blithely confident with all her info-dumping about these random alien creatures she's never seen before in her damn life? And why is master chief taking anything she says seriously when he knows she's going through AI-Alzheimer's???

The Didact is bullshit. Who the fuck is this guy? why does he call himself a "Forerunner" when that's 'our' word for them? and how does he indentify us as "human"? Also why's he so mad at us for freeing him? This is all so very stupid.

Wow. ANOTHER escape sequence involving driving fast through some exploding superstructure? Come on, Microsoft, it's all very well and good to rest on your laurels but this is just masturbating with them... I swear to you on my mother's life that having an original idea isn't nearly as painful as you seem to think it might be...

Even more being stripped of my good weapons and reset back to basic bitch assault rifle + handgun

"the greatest enemy ever faced by the forerunners: you" - bitch you've been extinct for like 100,000 years what the fuck are you even talking about???

"the Prometheans, they're human" what the fuck are you even talking about?? Who the fuck are the Prometheans??

Genesong, evolutionary acceleration, thousands of lifetimes' worth of planning? What in the flying fuck is all this nonsense? When and why did Halo become "What If Star Trek Was About Using The Power Of Friendship To Kill God"?!

Look, Microsoft, this shit isn't fucking rocket science. I shouldn't have to take an undergraduate degree in Halology to understand the fucking story of a video game. I shouldn't have to go read god knows how fucking many spin-off novels there are just to know basic facts about your game like who in the flying fuck are all these goddamn Elder God alien species you're name-dropping. I should just play the game and have knowledge of the game from playing the fucking game. Jesus fucking christ pull your head out of your arse and stop jerking yourself off and start making some goddamn sense!!

Why can this Space Orc Big Bad use The Force like Darth Vader anyhow??

Why is defeating Space Orc Big Bad a fucking quicktime event???

Lol get vaporised, idiot

Why was nuking his spaceship another quicktime event? Just make the whole thing a cutscene, christ 🙄

Master Chief finally makes it to The Waifu Dimension (via nuclear bomb?????) and his first thought is "how do I escape from here?" instead of "oh cool I can finally kiss my holographic waifu"

And now he's just, like, chilling out in orbit around earth, perfectly fine and unharmed?? after setting off a nuclear bomb in his lap with his own two hands?????

Hey, so why was I fighting digi-struct robots for the entire back-half of this game anyway? Isn't Halo supposed to be about fighting The Covenant and The Flood?? 😒

Also, didn't the Covenant have an internal schism/civil war last game?? Like, that was the whole plot of the whole game. Why are the Elites back in the Covenant again; are we just not going to bother with explaining that?

Holy fuck I hate this fucking game. Really glad I only paid seven bucks for it.

Things I liked about Halo 4:

It looks pretty

No more dual-wielding. Fun concept, sure, but it made the games' control scheme fucked to shit. Really felt like Bungie made all of the enemies into utterly gratuitous damage-sponges to compensate for MC's higher DPS too, and that sucked.

The weapon rebalancing, in general. The new Needler kicks ass.

No more dragging around a giant posse of allies with me everywhere. I feel like that was another big contributor to the enemies needing to be so heavily-buffed with sponginess.

Really glad the Brutes aren't in this game. Those guys were the fucking worst.

The items from Halo 3 were mostly useless and just served to clutter up the game. Forgot they were there most of the time, and kept activating them by accident when trying to reload. Glad to see they've been fucked off/heavily retooled. The new active-camo gadget is useful and fun without being overpowered; I really like how well they've balanced it. All of the other gadgets are fairly middling though.

The new machine gun is great! (SURE WOULD BE NICE IF I WAS ABLE TO KEEP IT FOR MORE THAN HALF OF ONE LEVEL THOUGH)

I laughed when I saw a grunt sprinting at my Ghost with a lit grenade in each hand. Some real Serious-Sam-type nonsense right there 😂

Stomping around in the Mantis mech was extremely fun

The sticky-bomb handgun was pretty fun.

Final verdict: Microwaved Slop.

I'll eat it if I'm hungry enough, but I won't enjoy it.

[threshergm]

ANNOUNCEMENT! I AM A PUBLISHED AUTHOR!

It only took me 22 years, but I'm finally a published author! I've been writing since I started with Halo fan fiction in the immediate wake of Halo: Combat Evolved, posting to the old HBO website. My writing style and interests have barely changed in that time, haha. But I am now finally published! I wrote a short story about the so-called E-4 Mafia; the corporals, specialists, and petty officers that make militaries past, present, and future actually function. It was included in the collection linked below. Henchman Press is a relatively new publisher, so please click the link, buy the collection, and leave a rating and review. Help put these guys on the map! https://a.co/d/4GBtpNp

[redphienix]

I still think about star wars battlefront 2's space fights

and how dying in an online match of chromehounds put you on foot as an infantry

and how selecting the same map as your coop player in smb3 initiated a match of Mario Bros

and how incredibly good fuzzles were in Oddworld Stranger's Wrath

and how many hours of fun I had playing custom games of chaos theory's asymmetric multiplayer

and about doing super jumps in halo 2 for hours and hours (and ToP)

and all the silly accessories everyone I knew (and myself) collected for the original gameboy and gameboy color to slap a magnifying glass on it or quadruple the battery amount or slap a light on it

and how much fun I had in animal crossing wild world after literal years of being interested in the series despite my entire exposure to it being a single article in a gaming mag and (maybe) the live action commercial for the gamecube version

and about that time I did a completion run of FFT and at some point was just using all lvl 99 calculators with chameleon robes spamming holy on everyone in the fight which took forever to play out and I did this on the big screen in the living room for some reason

and about tying socks around rock band drum pads

and about how everyone seemed to stop what they were doing and focused on beating resident evil 4 10 billion times when it came out

and just lots of random little game things.

[simandy]

Express Tutorial: How to fix some weird Dirty Blonde textures made by EA or making Dirty Blonde from any texture ever (for recolors)

Hello, so I was asked questions about how to gradient the 13th swatch of the EAXIS palette for hairs to make the recoloring process easier. Therefore here I am with one more specific-ass thing for you to learn.

This tutorial will teach you: Photoshop Gradients Maping and how to disrespect EA color choices properly

Tutorial under the cut ♥

Ok lesgo

Step 1: Get your weird texture. Mine is this one, from the Island Living EP:

I despise it. ANYWAY, as you can see, the colors are a bit off, the highlights are white and there’s a kind of a “halo” around them that is pretty saturated for no reason. This can make your recolor look weird. So let’s fix that.

Step 2: Open it in Photoshop. Mine is Photoshop CC with a .dds plugin (which makes it easier to work with gradients and not care about the white backgrounds. But if you’re used to the .png files and not flattening your layers, it will work normally.)

Step 3: GRADIENT MAP TIME, BABE. Find it here:

So this nice cute layer will be created for you in some color (will vary depending on what color you have selected at the moment, don’t panic):

Step 4: The Gradient messing up step. So now you have this big window open in your photoshop because you clicked the gradient in the previous step. What now?

Well, now is when the fun begins. You have two sliders there: far left and far right. Far left is your darkest color, the shadows of your hair texture. Far right is the lightest point, the highlights. We still have only two shades, but we will need FOUR. To insert more color shades into your gradient map, simply click somewhere in the map, like this:

Ok, make it to four and you will have this nonsense here:

You can mess up with the slider positions as you please!

Step 5: Colors! So now you have a gradient map ready to use, all you have to do is to change it’s colors to your preferred tones. To change a slider color, you click it’s little box twice and the color selector will open for you. It’s this easy. Keep in mind that left is darker and right is brighter.

I have my values ready so you can copy and paste in the # section to the color selection:

Deep shadows (far left - value 1): 2e1b15 

Shadows (left - value 2): 523830 

Base color (middle - value 3): b08d68 

Highlights (right - value 4): fff3bd

After you put in your values, you will get this:

“But Ellen!!! This is dark as hell and not even close to dirty blonde!!” I know dear, that’s why the sliders are for! You can change their positions so if you bring the lighter colors more to the left, the shadows will get lighter! (Notice the extra tip)

Cleaner dirty blonde!!! Look how soft and pretty it is compared to the EA one:

Step 6: Save it. No for real that’s all! Join the layers for png or flatten for dds (don’t forget the mipmap check) and save it as “base” of you’re here because you use my actions. Here’s a sims4studio comparison:

See how it looks easier on the eye? It’s because now the colors are a perfect gradient of each other and they mix up well!

The best part if this, is that now you can grab any texture and turn it to dirty blonde by messing up with the gradient sliders! This makes everything easier, even recoloring clothes or build mode stuff if you want your favorite hair color palette in other parts of the game, assuming they all use dirty blonde as a base. Here’s an example using the teal hair swatch:

Another tip: Don’t forget to save your new gradient for when you need it again!

♥

That’s about it! Now go on with your recolors! See you in the next tutorial, xoxo