#ive had to push through art block

[blenselche]

this took a while soz, I'm happy with it though.

Here it is in full/not broken in half.

[monn1draws]

【ｓｌｅｅｐ】

[pumpkinnqueenn]

.

[enbesbians]

hi bby fern <3 i’m here to request some cockwarming with abby + her ravenously eating pussy ♡🎀💕 ilysm !

hi there bee, i can definitely do that.

sorry if this is kind of bland… im working in the midst of a writers block and i couldn’t let this idea up… ive been thinking about it nonstop since you’ve brought it to my attention.

in the quiet of the night, every so often she would stop to admire at the dark marks she’d create at the inner of your thighs, heart shaped in the ring of her lips— now latching herself on your throbbing clit just to feel it’s sticky flesh flutter against the softness of her lips as they’d pop themselves off. abby did this for a while, infatuated with the sounds you were releasing every time she got too close to your aching cunt. "such a pretty fucking pussy…" she breathed on it. "mine, all fucking mine you hear?” she chuckled, emphasizing each letter amidst her short licks, long ones, from underneath your folds all the way back to your clit. doing everything to make you feel good and keep you moaning, saying, "fuck, abby! don’t stop."— oh god, she loved it when you said that, she also loved it when you pressed her face deep in between your legs, make her eat you— she pulled away to spit directly at your hole, it sliding down just to be absorbed by the sheets.

"you taste so good," she repeated for the umpteenth time, pushing one finger inside, tongue circling around your cunt, gathering as much spit as she could, feeling it slide down your folds, making more of a mess than she had intended. abby was too greedy, wanting you to feel any ounce of pleasure by slipping two fingers in. your legs spread all the way open as the sinful sounds of her fingers plunging inside of your pussy mixed with the desperation in your moans and the sucks of your clit.

"i love your pussy" she practically moaned out, mouth so full, you could barely understand. her chest heaving as you twitched against her mouth, which only urged her spread you open with her digilent digits, pushing her tongue deeper into you. she sucked your pussy like you were her only life source. she let the movement of her tongue swell and flatten as she slipped herself inside your opening, replacing her fingers, and locked her jaw as she cradled your clit at the opening of her tightening lips. you’d feel yourself falling from the abyss, the bottom half of your body being lifted mindlessly by pleasure. you’ve always loved the tormented and glory of abby’s tongue, it flicking and fluttering and sucking and fucking you like no one has ever had. she treated your pussy like it was art, indulging it like top of the line cuisine— tasting it’s juices, drinking it, smothering herself in it. she’d spit again and again, making the wetness of your pussy sloppy, running down your thighs and running all over her cheeks and nose.

it didn’t take much time for her to get excited from the taste of you, the way her nose buried itself deep in the additive scent you exuded which ultimately made her stop and level the silicone she had wrapped within her harness and bury herself in your folds. she slipped in so nicely, you already creating a ring of cream around her as her hips started to jut itself into you.

no matter how much you came, she kept going, your body now limp at the fact that she let herself go feral, her strong arms wrapping around your body, squeezing you close in her strength, trembling through the orgasm she granted you. she’d go back, slurping the left over cream and cum you left against her silicone and your slit, just to fuck you again to make you weak and cum dumb for her.

after some time, she finally let up with you and her now at a rest. the weight of her arm pressed firmly at your waist. she pulled you in, the thick of her fingers pressing deeper into your damp flesh, allowing you to make one with the warmth of her chest. she watched you, with growing pupils oozing with endearment as they bounce from your eyes to your lips. she loved looking you like this. she couldn’t stop herself from smiling at how cute you looked after she’d fuck you. you looked so lost, trying to settle back into reality as your high subsided itself.

at a tilt, she lifted your chin, swiping her tongue across the bottom of your lip, humming in satisfaction at the way your face formed it’s glow— the beauty of your orgasm never fails to amaze abby. just from studying it alone, she’d fuck you again. the pitiful plea to keep going, the pathetic blank stare once you’ve reach your high— all she wanted was to take you deeper into that. she could frame it, needing to capture this moment on camera; just to admire the quickening breaths, the heat of your skin burning her own, and the beads of sweat forming down the line of your back. "mmm so you're enjoying it baby aren't you? you like when i stay inside?” she leaned over, slurring the words whilst momentarily canceling the distance between you both to place her lips on your agape ones.

“ye…yess…” you reply back, clenching around her silicone as you weakly pucker your lips to return a faint kiss.

"my pretty angel, what is that… four times and i can still feel you clench around me…” abby whispered against your mouth with a wide smirk on her own, hand snaking down the length of your back. "you like it how i stretch this pussy, don’t you baby? feels good when i fuck you… when i taste you. you like when i lick that pretty clit of yours or even use my fingers to fuck you… i bet it feels good when i just let my cock rest there, let this pretty pussy hug me so tight~" she sing songed lowly, continuing the feathering touches of her fingers running down the spine of your back. “this pussy is made for me… no matter what i do… it talks to me…”

there’s something in this that felt oddly intimate about this. the way she ripped her hips deeply inside your cunt just seconds before— body buried deep in the softness of your mattress only to be catching your breath and having your loving girlfriend hold you, whispering her love for the way your wrapped around her. it felt so dirty but erotic.

you loved it when she talked as if her strap was a part of her, you always feared that pleasure only ran one way, but she made you feel as if she could feel it— whenever you sucked it, allowing her to fuck the depths of your hallowing throat, or bounced against her hips, snapping her hips up into you, or even enjoy cockwarming as you are right now, it made you melt— your hips rolling down further onto her silicone as your tired fingers hold tightly onto the cloth of her shirt. “you fill me up so good… i don’t ever want you to get out… i don’t want to feel empty.” you sighed, your high still plummeting through your body, resting and tingling at your clit.

it’s fair to say abby is addicted to all the melodic and sonorous eruptions of pleasure emitting from you, far as much as she was to your heavenly aroma, natural taste, and your eyes she’d catch in any lustful act. she was in love with anything and everything that involved you— she pressed her cock in your walls, counteracting your hips just to hear your tiny gasp. she could feel the jerk of the toy from how you twitched against it, hands now caressing the sides of your face, “baby… enduring it, rest…”

leaning towards your neck, she started kissing it’s flesh, and ridges of her teeth nipping at the skin with each suck as you felt yourself drifting into a comforting slumber.

[dsaf-confessions]

important announcement

okay so modred here!!! and i am about to share my total, unbiased, unfiltered and honest thoughts.

i am leaving the blog

yes yes i know i try to act unbothered by everything but its scary how everything changed so fast! did you know i was actually considering sharing my main on here because i thought this place was so chill? safe to say im glad i did not do that.

i've tried to win the idgaf war but the truth is its killing me. im fighting in the idgaf war and im losing. it feels like its been months since it started, but its not even been three weeks. just over two, im pretty sure. its not even been three weeks since i've turned 15 years old!

two days after my 15th birthday this started!! what unfortunate timing. and honestly, ive got exams in less than a month, and i've been so stressed about everything. not just exams, not just internet drama, but like a secret third thing too.

its super scary to admit im being stressed out by all of this considering that there are people whove taken pride in upsetting me and for what crime? they're old posts. i was 14 when i posted them. id apologised. id listened to advice. i'd improved. but all because one day someone decided they didn't like the blog, this entire account collapsed and so did my mental health with it it seemed.

i dont like being honest. i just like to laugh about everything. i know certain people are going to be laughing and proud that they've made me leave this blog while reading this post, and while thats the reason ive been scared to leave this whole time, they're going to do that anyway. they're going to keep hating me. so the least i could do is try to put myself first rather than try to push through it using spite as my motivator.

i know there will likely be people bragging on their accounts that they've made me leave (im aware of what people are saying). and that upsets me. i wont lie. but at the end of the day, if you find yourself being proud of making a newly turned 15 year old leave an account that they once found comfort in, then thats more of a judge of character about you than me.

its scary how people can decide that they don't like you one day and make a post ruining everything, and its scary how people can act comforting to your face and then go ahead and brag about how upset they've made you to someone else, but in the end i cannot control what people say and at the end of the day i can only control what i do and who i surround myself with and thats why im leaving.

im not leaving the discord, or the dsaf fandom at all, but i am getting far away from this blog and blocking everyone who hates me because thats all i can do. all i can request is that if you know who i am, keep it secret. and if you somehow find me, please dont try to talk to me.

i think i'll just talk with my friends and post my silly little art and things without becoming a known name. its the only way to exist in fandom i think.

but wait! this blog wont die!

you see, as you were reading this post with tears in your eyes, i had secretly been assigning not just one, but two new admins for the blog! i trust them to keep it running, but also if you guys treat them terribly i give them full permission to delete this entire account. they need to put themselves first too.

so, my last words to the dsaf confessions blog?

change da world. my final message. goodbye. /ref

uhh just kidding!! final message is: if you dont like this blog, block it. if you dont like me, then we'll leave this here and forget this drama ever happened. dont try to make my past mistakes these guys problems. as soon as i hit post im leaving this blog, so any hate you try to send towards me will not go through to me. you wont even be screaming into the void either, just at some innocent people.

thats all i have to say. ily all!!! /p

-modred

[cloudy-emojis]

👋 Hello, :]

its been a very long while,

However unfortunately due to not being in a stable enough place to have time to make emojis I may be deactivating this account.

Its been a very fun time making emoji art content, however this era had to unfortunately end :[

I tried to push through the general art block to come back to making emojis but its not really worth it anymore,

You may see me again as an original art account in the near future! Either by fate or coincidence. But I will no longer make emoji content.

I'll miss all the emojis Ive made, and the amount of fun i had waiting for requests, but this is a step forward into new things for me :D

-Cloudy(Miles,)♥️

My last announcement, 🌼

[gefionne]

hi i’m a newbie writer. and i just love your writing? could you give any advice for me on how to be a better writer?

Hello hello! I'm so glad you like my work! I can certainly try to offer some advice, but like all writing advice, take what might be helpful and leave what isn't; everyone has their own preferences and workflow.

I. Write. A lot. - I was a casual, sporadic writer for a long time, but when I decided I really wanted to improve, I just wrote. A lot. All the time. Doesn't have to be every day (some advice says that), but put words on the page regularly. You'll be rewarded by seeing improvement as you go along! It might take weeks, months, or years, but keep at it.

II. Read the genres you like/authors you admire. - This can be fic authors if that's your goal or published authors, as long as you enjoy their work and aspire to tell stories like they do. Your stories will never be the same as theirs, but you can learn a lot about structure, prose, and pacing from reading.

III. Your first stories might not be up to the standard you aspire to, and that's okay. - My earliest stories on AO3 are from when I was a teenager (written pre-AO3, actually). They're rough; they're clumsy. I haven't deleted them because people left kudos and bookmarked them, but they're also part of my writing journey. I put a note on them that I wrote them when I was 16, but I didn't remove them. Remember: You don't have to post your early work! Keep it for yourself until you're excited enough to share.

IV. Get excited about your work. - Everybody loves the validation of kudos/comments, but before you venture into posting, love your own work. If you can barely contain your excitement to put your story out there, that's the right zone. Regardless of the interaction, that story is in your heart and you're proud of it.

V. Write out your thoughts for a story. - If you're a daydreamer with all your plots coming to you in the shower, write them down after. Could be an outline, could be one sentence. A list of ideas or plot points/scenes might also help you break a block. (I'm not actually a daydreamer myself. I brainstorm ideas when I'm sitting at my computer with a page in front of me to record them, so grain of salt this one if it's not your workflow.)

VI. Try different things. - Start with the genres/tropes you like, but don't be afraid to experiment. Never thought I'd write a flower shop AU, but I did it. Write canonverse. Write historical AUs. Write based on prompts or art. See point #1: Write. A lot.

VII. Find a writing group, if possible. - The interactions I had with my friends during the height of my fandom period (2016-2019) pushed me to be better, consistently. They gave ideas, but were also betas who weren't afraid to offer some critique (behind the scenes, not in public comments). Make sure you trust them. It can take a while to build up trusting relationships with your group, but when they respect you and support you, their feedback will make you a better writer. IMPORTANT: Always state your expectations of a beta (e.g. what kind of feedback you want on what parts--SPAG, plot, pacing, characterization--and how you would like to receive it--gently, blunt, Google Docs comments or just some thoughts after they read.) Good feedback is not harsh, but given out of honest care and support. Break a beta relationship if they aren't helpful.

IX. One last thing: Everyone was a newbie at some point. Everyone. Through hard work, excitement about their own stories, and self-compassion throughout the slow process of improving, they did. And so can you.

[quietblueriver]

Some more BTVS AU. Meet Lilith the Watcher-in-Training. Part IV in this universe. Find the rest here.

-

Beatrice runs the towel over her face and the back of her neck before stretching her arms, watching as Lilith moves from the punching bag toward the small table near the back of the room, examining the glinting metal neatly laid out before her. Her fingers roam for a moment, and then her choice, small and black and deadly, flies at Beatrice.

She gives no warning, but she doesn’t need to; Beatrice dodges it and the five that follow with little effort.

“She’s a menace.” A new set, longer blades, less time between release. “She’s a danger to herself and everyone else, and she doesn’t care.”

“She’s a new slayer.”

Beatrice catches the knife Lilith throws at her in a somewhat showy move—because she can, because she’s becoming annoyed at this conversation, at Lilith, at her own instinct to defend the girl whose sole contribution to her life so far has been entirely unappreciated chaos.

Lilith scoffs. “You were never like this.” Halfway through her sentence she releases another knife which Beatrice, still feeling a bit petty, catches in her left hand as though it’s nothing. “She doesn’t take anything seriously. She has no idea what she’s doing, and we’re all going to pay for her idiocy.”

“She needs time to adjust. She needs training.” She punctuates this point with a throw, the knife lodging itself in the center of the wooden bullseye behind Lilith, deep enough that Beatrice hears a crack. The second follows immediately after, embedding in the skull of the dummy to Lilith’s left.

“Well, at least we agree on that.”

Lilith ignores the knives Beatrice has thrown, moves to the stash of weapons in the umbrella stand to the right of the back door and lifts a practice bo, testing its weight before leaning it against the wall and pulling a second. Beatrice walks the distance between them and waits for Lilith to present her with a staff, twirls it experimentally while Lilith fetches the blindfold. She’s given her the lighter of the two, likely because she knows Beatrice prefers the heavier. She rolls her eyes.

She’s tempted to lie to Lilith as she fastens the blindfold around Beatrice’s eyes, to give herself enough light to make the exercise pointless, down Lilith a few times, force her to call training early. She doesn’t. She knows better. Training is the best use of her time, and Lilith is a dedicated and able partner. This is where she is meant to be. Whatever desire she feels to be elsewhere is not worth the cost.

Still, it takes more than a moment to convince herself of this, to push aside thoughts of Mary and Camila and a movie night, and she knows why. She can pinpoint the source of the uncharacteristic temptation—a newly minted slayer slouched against the railing of the stairwell in the library, working steadily through a blue bag of Doritos that she occasionally offers to Beatrice with a lazy grin, gray zip hoodie slipping perpetually from one shoulder. Ava Silva. Chaos.

She blocks a blow from Lilith, who has circled to her right, strikes out and feels the press of Lilith’s bo against her own. She tries to focus on the training, finds it frustratingly difficult.

Lilith isn’t wrong, of course. Ava doesn’t seem to take this seriously enough, and it is dangerous, for her and for all of them, for a slayer to be so blasé about her duties. But from what Beatrice has been able to glean (admittedly not much), Ava grew up in difficult circumstances and has been on her own for a long time. She had no idea she was a potential slayer, and then, not even a month into her tenure, she was forced to kill the watcher sent by the Council after a particularly vicious vampire turned her.

Beatrice hadn’t been identified as a potential, but she had a background that lent itself surprisingly well to the duties of a slayer. She was a talented athlete with a love of martial arts and access to incredible trainers and resources. She had been educated at some of the best schools in Europe. She trained her body and her mind because she wanted to be useful and because she was unwilling to waste what had been given to her. If she was totally honest, she was also trying very hard to make up for…other failures in the eyes of her parents. But that was neither here nor there at this point.

She hadn’t been a potential, but she had been, in a series of incredibly fortunate coincidences, rather well-prepared.

Of course, she hadn’t been as well-prepared as Lilith. No one had been as well-prepared as Lilith.

While the Council can never tell with total certainty, a prophecy and a particularly strong set of readings from the most accurate coven in England had predicted that Lilith would be next. Lilith, whose family had been involved in the Council for centuries. Lilith, who gave her entire life to training for the responsibility. Lilith, who from the time she was ten years old had been told that she would carry the mantle and could not disappoint her family.

And then Beatrice had been chosen, and Lilith had become nothing more than another watcher.

She had been cold enough on her eventual arrival that Superion had held Beatrice after training one night and explained, pained and stilted, the bones of Lilith’s background. She and Lilith weren’t friends, but Beatrice understood. Understood the pressure and what it felt like to be a disappointment. Understood why Lilith hadn’t come to join Superion until more than a month into Beatrice’s time on the hellmouth, why she hadn’t wanted to speak to Beatrice beyond what was absolutely necessary for the first few weeks she had been here.

She had felt relief and compassion when, one night after she had the wind knocked from her yet again, Lilith finally accepted Beatrice’s hand up and said, brushing vampire dust from her slacks, “I’m quite hungry. Is there anywhere here that serves anything remotely edible at this hour?” She had scowled at the hamburger on offer down the street from Beatrice’s apartment but had eaten the entire thing.

They had been making progress since then. They understand each other. They take their work seriously. They have tea, sometimes, on the balcony of Lilith’s apartment, each with a book and an appreciation for silence.

Enter Ava Silva. Bright and vibrating and reckless. Untrained and uninterested in being anyone’s soldier. Joyful. Generous. Alive. And, somehow, a slayer.

For Lilith, it’s a bridge too far, and for Beatrice, it’s a heap of confusing feelings that she cannot seem to shake. There’s a growing part of her that does not seem to want to shake them at all, that worms itself out through her fingertips, reaching to tug that gray hoodie back into place, forcing the logical part of her to abort the overly familiar action so close to completion that she has no option but to act as though she’s reaching for a cool ranch Dorito.

She brings herself back to the present as Lilith comes uncomfortably close to her ankle.

“I don’t know why you’re defending her.” A jump, a counterstrike, the whoosh of Lilith’s exhale as Beatrice makes contact with her ribcage. A deep breath and she continues, “You’re the one she’s going to get killed.” The clack of staffs meeting between them. “The best we can hope for is that she manages to get herself killed first.”

Something boils over in Beatrice then. She stills, takes a split second to gauge where Lilith’s bo will be, and catches it in her hand. She pulls, hard, and feels Lilith shift her weight, trying to use her momentum against Beatrice, but Beatrice is no longer in the mood. A flip, a grunt, and Lilith is pinned as Beatrice takes the blindfold off of her eyes and glares down at the girl beneath her.

Lilith’s pupils widen slightly at Beatrice’s expression, and her breath catches, though she tries to hide it. Beatrice relieves a small amount of the pressure of her knee from Lilith’s sternum but does not relax the grip she has on her hands. She doesn’t often allow herself to do this, make the difference in their strength this apparent. She has never wanted to be a bully. She still doesn’t. But she is a slayer, in the end, and the monster in her will not be quiet as Lilith speaks Ava’s death into the world. Calls it their best hope.

“She’s a slayer, the same as me. You want to be a watcher, so be one. It’s your job to make sure neither of us gets killed.” They both hear the words she’s not saying, and although Beatrice won’t be cruel, she will be clear. She says, the fragile human bones of Lilith’s wrists in her hands and her racing heart loud in Beatrice’s ears, “Do your job, Lilith, so that I can do mine.”

Lilith’s eyes harden and Beatrice lets go, comfortable in the knowledge that they understand each other for the moment. She pushes up and Lilith takes her offered hand, retrieves the heavier bo and hands it to Beatrice before leaning back down for the blindfold.

“Again.”

[deadlittledogs]

how do you have motivation to produce so much art? ive been having the worst art block ever, thinking about drawing makes me roll my eyes now…

ive always admired your passion for drawing so im curious as to what keeps you going

I MEAN…. I get art block constantly but I actually found some ways to mitigate it!! (*^◯^*)

(Read More becuz it’s long)

1.) Draw cringe. Just the most self indulgent things possible with no expectation to share it with anyone. Think of it as like, ‘this is only for me, so it can be as messy and weird as I want and I don’t have to feel bad for not making a solid, aesthetically pleasing product’. This is what I did when I wasn’t very active online, I like to call it my ‘goon’ year because all I drew was buttsex and boys kissing and really offensive crap lol. But not having the pressure of getting likes or engagements on social media can be a big relief until you feel comfortable again. It’s always good to draw consistently.

2.) HAVE ARTIST FRIENDS TO PUMP YOU UP!!!! Following my bestie breakup I was really depressed and had no energy to draw, especially because I had just separated from someone who was so impactful in my creative process. Not having someone to workshop and get excited about ideas with was really hard, because now I didn’t have someone who could help fine tune my vision and provide input on the stuff I was working on. It’s still not the same without her, but I found that engaging with people who are very optimistic about centering their lives around art creates a certain atmosphere that will leave you feeling energized!!! Having artist friends show you their own process, their own projects, and being able to bond over your shared passion is something really amazing and fun. It made me realize how important art was to me and how I wanted to take the encouragements my friends gave me and make them really proud one day!!!

3.) DRAW AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE….. this is the one that works but hurts the most….. I find that during art blocks I draw really shitty and it lowers my morale lol. I get even a whiff of inspiration but the minute I draw one wobbly line I’m instantly bored over the fact that I haven’t spontaneously created the Mona Lisa.

You just have to push through it (T . T) ITS SO HARD but if you make it a habit to at least be THINKING about the sort of thing you’d like to draw every day, eventually you’ll feel more enthused when it’s time to pick up that pen or pencil.

4.) This one is less size-fits-all but honestly, I recommend not looking at other peoples work too much. This one is a tricky one because getting reference and wanting to feel inspired by others are important elements in creating art too, but sometimes it can be a bit de-valuing if you do it too much. It’s easy to think, “Well, I just want to get the ball rolling and maybe change up my style a bit, what are other people doing?” Just to spiral down a rabbit hole of “Omg, all these other artist are better than me. How come I’m not as talented? This person is much younger than me- how is that even fair?! What’s the point of drawing if I’m always going to be so far behind?!”

DON’T COMPARE YOURSELF TO OTHERS AND JUST GO AT YOUR OWN PACE!!!!!!

ヽ(￣д￣;)ノ=3=3=3

Yes, there are a billion other people who are way more talented than you’ll ever be. Who cares? Draw the things that make you happy, and people who appreciate it will come along. It’s not a competition, it’s an expression of the spirit!! 🤓☝🏼

5.) SOMETIMES YA JUST NEED A BREAK MAN…… I recommended not getting too greedy with it and becoming lazy (something I have a problem with lol) but art block can sometimes signify a burn out, plain and simple. Take some time to reconnect with yourself, don’t worry about making art and worry more about doing some self care. Go look at the mountains, spend some time with friends, engage in other hobbies like sticking metal rods in your penis or knitting. A lot of times going to new places and trying new things can help inspiration strike! :3

but yeah…. there’s some advice!

I hope this list helps you, nonnie!! ∩^ω^∩

Good Luck!!!!!!!!!!!!🍀🍰🌈🤍🦅

[iantimony]

2023 year in review roundup

wow!! what a fucking year!!! goodbye and good riddance! happy first day of 2024!

this year i did 37 tuesdayposts! there were 53 tuesdays so that's about 70%! some of them were on fri/sat instead as shabbosposts but i think posting on tuesday or even monday does just work better for some fucking reason. maybe because friday and saturday are days that i am most likely to do New Activities for making/playing/watching/reading??? and so on monday or tuesday i can recap the just-finished weekend. shrug! we love tuesday so it's fine.

listening listened to all of twilight mirage and a little over half of partizan! shrieking shack podcast, just king things, well there's your problem, miscellaneous music (maneskin probably a notable winner in there)

reading a lot of little articles. a little tgcf. SO much fanfic. 'every heart a doorway' (bad). 'birthday of the world' le guin (good).

playing a little disco elysium. a little minecraft. a little nier automata. a little hadesgame. a LOT of pokemon go. and i got into magic the gathering this year!

watching a lot of youtube videos. so many gd youtube videos. evangelion, history of the world part ii, cunk on earth, vox machina animated series, cowboy bebop, first season of peaky blinders, the new tgcf donghua season!

making i did very little drawing/painting/illustration beyond life drawing a few times...however i was very prolific in crafting! i also theoretically made valentines gifts. i do not remember what they were tho lol.

fiber arts: i completed a big embroidery project (fermenting dregs album art hoodie), quantum shawl, mesh market bag, case for my knew laptop, finished that blue tank top even though i hate it, fixed the lining on my yellow knitted cowl, made a little knitted headphone top cover that i will probably redo differently, headband ear warmer for my roommate's mom, and FINALLY i just barely finished the scarf for my SO before the end of 2023!

print block carving: wristwatch print, gavelbocken holiday card print

misc/writing: some songxuexiao fencing au. some harrowhark abhorsen au. neocities website!

and so much pottery! this is all of it, barring the things i already gave away as presents before this photo (two pots and a little box and the little raven guy), but wow! that's so many fuckin object!

misc what a fucking year. some bad! had to file a big car insurance claim! got really sick while abroad and that persisted for a long fucking time! mini summer breakdown! some good stuff too - passed quantum mechanics FOREVER good fucking bye, did my first successful academic conference, finally started feeling better around the end of the year! learned my lesson: it's not fuckin worth stressing yourself to death over, and also i can't just Be At Home Aimlessly for months any more. it's bad for my mental health.

reviewing 2023 resolutions and goals --> I’d love to start writing again and play more horn but we’ll see i basically didn't do any creative writing at all this year barring a few lines of fanfic ideas (the abhorsen/tlt crossover one) HOWEVER i READ a lot of fanfic to marinate in and i played a LOT more french horn!! i joined the little youth orchestra which is like, uber goofy, but it means ive been playing on a regular basis again!

--> I also wanna listen to more weird music, and invest in actually owning some files, especially for some of the lesser-known bands and through bandcamp and stuff i spent all year meaning to do this and kept pushing it off so it rolls over into next year.

--> I really want to kind of dial those [unhealthy coping mechanisms] back again, focus more on existing in Reality and more in each moment, which hopefully will also help with some of the skin picking and other anxious habits that resurfaced. maybe more yoga, maybe re-establishing a meditation process lol lmao. nah. but definitely rolling it over into 2024.

--> I would love to think more about my fashion and how I present myself too, and work on making and tailoring more of my clothing in general actually not bad! basically zero tailoring but i did a pretty good job wearing some cute outfits.

--> I’ve been pretty good about being active so I’d like to keep that up, I still can’t do a pull-up but maybe this is the year! (lol) I should also start doing some minor exercises for my shitty arthritis toes to keep those okay once again: lol lmao. health issues had me really regress in some of my gains goals. plus side is toes are doin pretty normal.

--> a lot of last year was kind of a wash regarding research so I’m really looking forward to refocusing on that and really getting things moving. oh it moved! in a good way! i'm making good progress and hopefully i will keep that momentum going!

--> finally! I want to get back to tabletop! I miss doing it so much! it fell by the wayside for me because of how busy and overwhelmed I was, especially this past fall semester, but I want to start running and playing games with my pals again a little! i should have been putting these in playing as i went oops. the tabletop group i've run was a little fallow this year due to at least half of our group, including myself, not being in Tabletop Mood but we've played a lot of res arcana and other such games instead.

i had a few other resolutions in my digital planner on my ipad that didn't go in the writeup last year: namely, practice languages more (i did practice my mandarin a little but did not really learn any hebrew or korean unfortunately) and establish a non-software component of my research (nope, not in the cards, but i'm hoping to do something else this summer to let me get better with physical data/setups), and finishing the masters degree requirements (that will be the end of this upcoming spring semester), but overall i really did hit most of my resolutions and goals! even with being ill for a while! (except the finances. i am simply not looking at them <3)

2024 resolutions and goals

definitely some rollover! i will format this to hopefully be a little easier to respond to next year:

- get back on a regular workout schedule: swimming 1x a week, weights once or twice a week. would like to try and work towards my One Pullup goal again. would also be cool to try and work towards a hand/headstand. - try and be more mindful. i'm going to continue the grief therapy but also think about meditating more, doing more yoga, and so on. - there's a gallery on main street that solicits work from local artists for bimonthy themed exhibitions and i really want to submit at least one thing to it this year! the one due by end of january is themed 'florals', and the one two months after that is 'layers', so i'd really like to submit something to one of those. - more weird art! use that big canvas i bought in literally 2022! paint!!! - finally put together that travel journal from korea & japan (and also scrapbook-ify the papers i have leftover in a pile from that) - also, maybe do current scrapbook a little different? might need a new binder at the very least. - hang up that expensive quilt i bought in august - speaking of quilt: do some hand quilting, english paper piercing! i have so much fucking fabric! - find a new apartment to move into that hopefully won't suck! - try to secure some sort of summer internship or project that will let me develop some new skillsets that i might not be getting with my current research - finish the masters degree - write...a paper? for the work i just presented??? - keep tweaking neocities and make some more pages - keep track of recipes this year as well in my making section

i might start a little spreadsheet this year to keep better track of all my stuff because i really did Not want to go through all my separate listening and reading sections and extract what i liked the most, etc. this post required me to first back up a few extra early tuesdayposts from this year to dreamwidth, and then skim all of them to accumulate the above, and that was kinda a pain. and i love an excuse to start a new spreadsheet.

we did it! happy 2024! i don't think i have anything else to add to this wrapup but if i think of something i'll tack it into the upcoming Normal Tuesdaypost tomorrow! good job good night and good luck everyone!

[raysletters]

Fanfic Friday!

Rules: share a fic you wrote (or fan art or gif) that you are proud of! Moodboard optional!

Oh would you look at that? nobody actually tagged me, but im really proud of this fic and will forever be my precious baby and my first non canon compliant or canon adjacent fic.

peace by raysletters

"give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart. there's so much of you"

4 times Henry gives himself away, and the 1 time Alex shows him how much there is of him.

lightly inspired in it's nice to have a friend and peace by taylor swift

(alternatively called: the superhero au)

this was written thanks to a prompt from @inexplicablymine for @thebrownstone anniversary exchange and ive never had so much fun writing something ever. it was in the middle of a writers block and i spent SO long thinking about it (mainly bc i cant stand the movie or a certain actress on it) before i remembered my aforementioned hyperfixations on both the bright sessions and the flash (at some point i hope somebody makes a tbs x rwrb fic before i end up caving in and do it myself, even though it would be very similar to this fic, now that i think about it).

(break where i give little information about this bc the research was long and incredibly fun)

after all of that, it was so long that i spent on a google rabbit hole of researching superpowers and thinking how would it fit each person (i KNEW before anything else that i was going to give bea music powers, and after that the rest followed) so it is funny how all of their powers correlate between family and stuff and i need everyone to know about this bc i really spent so long thinking of it.

you have the mountchristen line, that has the "mind powers", starting with mary (psyren) that has the powers to manipulate minds, but it is more like suggestions, so that's why alex and bea could shrug it off and how henry would be able to after fighting his usual response of like going along whatever mary said; then you have catherine (vis) that has telekinesis, aka manipulation of objects through her mind (dont ask me about the name this one was very much just thrown out there when i looked it up suggestions on google). thats where arthur (foxglove) comes in with his ecokinesis (this is more like controlling plants but not really with his mind but like hes in TUNE with the planet and nature ala poison ivy kinda thing(?) (also yes ofc i found out there is a PLANT called FOX-GLOVE and gave it as a name for arthur. that is something he 100% would do and i dont receive criticism for it) and starts the fox-mountchristen line with philip (no i didnt think of his superhero name bc even though he is a bit redeemed here, he doesnt deserve it) and his MANIPULATION OF THE LIGHT WITH HIS MIND. and yes its cool and all, but i just want to emphasize that i wanted them to be able to MANIPULATE PARTS OF NATURE WITH THEIR MINDS BC ITS A MIX OF BOTH CATH AND ARTHUR (sjfnakdjfkahdmfhansbfmahdm im sorry i thought of it while still blocked and thought it was absolutely genius 💀💀). then there comes beautiful gorgeous bea who doesnt have a pseudonym bc she's actually part of the agency trying to control that superheroes dont do crazy stuff (yes bc of mary) and shes a badass agent and also has a band on the side bc she CAN MANIPULATE SOUND AHFNSJHSSJDJABHSNSHAJS. and lastly theres henry with his empathy and this is something not implied but more like a nod to tbs bc henry's actual powers are the manipulation of emotions which MEANS HENRY IS BASICALLY INCREDIBLY FUCKING POWERFUL but since he really doesnt like all that superhero shit, he doesnt care about it. at some point in time, he might discover hes even able to push emotions into other people, but again, since that was a nod to tbs, thats just something for them to discover in the future and thats it.

on the other hand, you have the claremont-díaz line that is messy as fuck, because in this universe, ellen enlisted in the army like her father and she ended up becoming a super soldier, along the lines of captain america, and was called "lometa longshot" bc yes ofc i had to. so you see how she doesnt have actual powers but instead she just has everything ENHANCED????; then you have oscar, who has the ability to fly, (which, fun fact, was actually the last power i thought of bc the idea of it is that oscar had some power of MOVEMENT), and bc you have impossible movement and enhancement, you get beautiful june with her powers of teletransportation that allow her to be a badass reporter and always get exclusives bc of how fast she can get somewhere; and you get alex with his undiagnosed adhd and the fire under his ass for no good reason and then there was absolutely no other choice but to give him super speed (and has nothing to do with the fact that he, like barry allen, is a very intelligent but very chaotic bisexual with undiagnosed adhd).

nora is there vibing, being a tecnopath and having actual numbers on her brain while also planning to conquer the world and also become kind of an iron-woman(? in that she makes gadgets for superheroes and for herself. pez is also vibing and being so cool they even have two powers, being able to shapeshift AND mimic the powers of ppl near them. hes the actual threat in that if they wanted, they could absolutely conquer the world.

ANOTHER FUN FACT: this is fairly obvious but in the us the school is called sky high and in uk the school is called wonder school bc i couldnt think of anything else and my reference for names of schools in the uk is that wizardry school from that horrible book so like,,,,, yeah.

LAST FUN FACT I SWEAR: theres a list of classes and their kind of equivalents that showed up after i decided alex would absolutely never stand this hero/sidekick bullshit shsksjsksjsksjsksjsksjs it was fun even though im yet to grasp the concept of american education(????? (listen im dumb so like if you were expecting too much from me, thats on you)

Math → Strategy

Language Arts → Heroism (morality and stuff)

Science → Mad Science

Social Studies → World History

Foreign Language → Technology (Hacking and entering 💀)

Physical Education → Combat

Electives → Save the citizen, Enhancement (like practice your own powers and stuff), Origins (of superheroes and superpowers), Teamwork (something both Alex and Henry definitely didn't take 💀), Alter-ego Management

(im not kidding when i say i pasted it verbatim to what i had in my docs, bc theres nothing more chaotic than my outlines and ramblings on any of my gdocs)

im not tagging anyone bc i just noticed it is decidedly not friday anymore but i got too excited talking about this fic akdbdksjsksjAbssjakajsncjbsksdhdjsj anyway, go and read it if you havent shkssjkssjsksjsksjs

[tangy-soup]

Hii lookie! Even though I only made like 4 fully rendered pieces this year, I'm happy with what I've done this year!

(For months where I dont't have fully rendered finished pieces I put in the next closest thing I have that month.)

Ramble under the cut where I try to go over each month

General overview:

Funny thing I've noticed is how often I used cool tones this year bc my older art (that ive never shown from like 2 years ago) was characterized by warm tones

Even though I work through fully rendered pieces super slowly and barely come out of the year with any, I'm super proud of my progress this year! I've learnt and grown a lot as an artist and have also realized my potential. With that though also comes my fear of not being able to top what I've done, which I'm trying to work on! My issue is I tend to produce a lot of art when feeling highly inspired by a media, and right now I don't exactly feel the same kind of spontaneous and passionate inspiration as I did during the year. I'm definitely dealing with some sort of mental block right now when it comes to digital art and I'm hoping to get through that soon because I miss the process of making something I love through drawing!!

January:

honestly thought the boatem piece was done last year so I was surprised to find it in my January files! This piece was kind of a turning point for my art as it was my first more complex pieces (i had not previously done a piece w more than 1 character in it really). It was a lot of work and I was very nervous about it but I'm quite proud of what I was able to do!

Late january is also when i started sketching out the ethubs piece actually (i work slow)!

February:

I didn't actually do a ton of art this month, as I tend to take a break and slow down right after finishing a piece. At this point I was very keen on doing pose studies traditionally. I posted some of these and most of them were desert duo.

This month i started to really figure out my dnd character Ethe's main design as our campaign was starting. So, i did a portrait of her for that. The rest of February was working on ethubs and studying how to paint grass and clouds and just sketching here and there. I think desert duo brain rot was strongest this month

March:

March was also a mix of pose studies and random sketches and FINALLY FINISHING ETHUBS. I was also doing some art for dnd ^_^

April:

I finished the dragonborn npc centered dnd piece this month, and also began sketching out the cleo piece. In between working on cleo I did some joe art including an animatic featuring the wordle boarder and the sketch for biblically accurate joe :D

May:

Pretty much anytime i had procreate open in may I was working on Cleo. This is the most ambitious art project I have taken on and I wasn't sure if I was able to make it how I wanted, so I was kind of slow and on and off with it. I ended up putting it down towards the end of the month and did some more personal illustrations

June:

Big month for my dnd blorbos tbh! I introduced a sister for Ethe and was working on her design and their interactions. I also got a bigger sketchbook this month and did a bunch of traditional studies. I finished the flats for cleo this month and took a break so most of the art I did were sketches

July:

I was in the home stretch for cleo and with the help of my friends telling me to finish it i finally pushed through and finished it. I couldnt be happier w the results!! it's one of my proudest pieces this year and I put in so much work for it. But after I finished it i took a huge break from mcyt art and focused on dnd art yet again.

August:

My work for the multidimensional big bang started this month!! I worked out the character design early august and had a sketch for the full piece by the end of the month. In the meantime I was actually working on a cat painting I never posted... maybe I'll post it in an end of year art dump

September:

This month was all about the big bang piece. I had so much fun doing it and am super proud of the finished product. Im especially happy with the composition and inclusion of the background characters!!

October:

Again. Major break from making full pieces after finishing a huge one last month. I think I spent more of my creative energy elsewhere like my writing. Also school started again and I had moved apartments and there was a lot of irl stuff preventing me from drawing. I did try to do traditional studies if I could

November:

Kind of a dead month for drawing. Super busy w school, chugging my way through Ethe's ref sheet i started months ago.

December:

Literally haven't drawn anything new besides a new years illustration for greeting cards. I picked up crocheting again and have been spending a lot of creative energy on that instead, but to keep my drawing going I've been doing more figure studies in my sketch book i guess!

[l0gitex]

15, 20, 24 for the asks! :>

tis a long one and also from a while ago

15. Biggest artist pet peeve?

LIKE.. IN OTHER ARTISTS? OR AS AN ARTIST? yknow what let me just answer both since i don't know in other artists.. gijinkas tbh sorry i really don't like them outside of few & far between rare cases.. i think it takes out all the wonder and imagination of a nonhuman character and particularly their design to go the most boring route ever and just maek them human IAIU#"/ though also ppl complaining about & being arrogant about not flipping their own canvases like why lol. it helps you. it supports improvement. its just annoying it isnt the boast they act it issss for myself ummmm.. i cant really think of anything so lets just say when my fcking computer freezes & i have to force restart it while im in the middle of drawing

20. What works have you drawn fanart of?

oh my god so fucking many dude fanart is my lifeblood being obsessed with media is 99% of my drive to make anything. i do make art otherwise but nothing activates my drawingbrain the way getting crazy about a new Thing does. sometimes unfortunate and something i feel kinda cringe for but whatevs here's some off the top of my head(...and top of my folder): futurama, sam and max, pinky and the brain, green eggs and ham, osomatsu-san, [REDACTED], yakuza, dan vs, undertale/deltarune, community, trolls, freakazoid, bill and ted, half life but the ai is self aware, regular show, mob psycho 100, count duckula, sonic, time squad, fallout new vegas, also a few obscurer movies or such. & of course some im embarrassed to mention bc they suck bad in some way or another ooor i regret ever liking. plus all the stray bits ive drawn for other people or just because of things im not actually into..

24. How do you deal with artblock?

either byyy just NOT drawing for a while, or messing around trying new / random / weird stuff. sometimes even just going to another medium entirely ie (physical) collage. idk if i fully believe in art block really being a thing but i also dont remember whatever stance i had in much detail so shrug. but like yeah generally if i am struggling with getting myself to make anything or amke anything i'm remotely satisfied with i either take a break or i push through it in whatever way. actually wait one more thing i do like to do is redraws of my own old art or like screencap studies & things like that. it kind of boosts your confidence seeing how you've improved especially when you are not feeling confident in your abilities, and i just find imitating references or others' drawings easier than doing anything from scratch in times like those

> Artist Asks &lt;-

[b0mblover]

It’ll be Okay in the End

By: J

cw; selfharm, generally negative thoughts, blood (etc everything that comes with sh)

lopt essentially has a silent breakdown and mason comforts him or smth idk im not good at summeries,

[Note; this was wrote out of my own desperation for comfort, not romanizing sh, i do not encourage or believe anyone should do this to themselves, seek help.]

i uh, actually had a easier time writing this than most things, probably because ive been essentially replaying this whole scene in my head for literal years! i for once wasnt upset when i wrote this, i was very tired tho! uh i have alot more to say but hawaii part ii lopt is taking over my brain again, so im gonna go do that! have fun with my depressed 100% projected loptson ig!

•

lopt was in ‘his’ so called room, scribbling away at some paper,

mason was rather concerned, hearing frustrated noises constantly, what sounded like pencils breaking,

they had been “partners” officially for 3 months now, mason had always cared about lopt to an extent, partner or not, but this was… odd.

sure lopt had his own life, hobbies, but he didnt care to keep /that/ much from mason, especially whenever he asked,

but, this was different.

lopt had came home from wherever the fuck he was- hell if mason knew details- annoyed, he stormed off to some room, when mason tried to ask what was wrong he only blew him off saying that “its none of your fucking business, you wouldnt get it anyways”

•

lopt was scribbling away in his notepad, despite being a god and literally being immortal, he still couldnt force creativity to come to him,

it was his fifth time trying,

most drawings resulted in poorly scribbled out lines,

he had went out to try and get inspiration for “some project” though he didnt really /have/ anything to work on, starting a new drawing always seemed to be a block for him,

he sat down his broken (6b) pencil, (rather violently but he didnt want to acknowledge that) and got up, he knew somewhere in him, that he needed a break, he walked out of his room to get water, but his mind wouldnt leave him alone,

constant thoughts about how awful his art was spewed around

“youre not “talented”, youre worthless”

“itd be better to quit now”

“just rip up the damn papers, theyre ugly anyways”

“imagine- you could just go and alleviate all this pain, just with that knife-“

he tried to push down his thoughts,

grabbing a cup from the cabinet and filling it with water,

the knives in the butcher block seemed so… tempting,

most of him /knew/ that he shouldnt- that it was wrong, that mason would be disappointed- disgusted, if he found out about his thoughts,

but, he couldnt help it,

all memories of the nights he got up from their bed to take part in something that would disgust his partner made him sick.

questions runned through his head as he sipped on his water, leaning onto the counter

“would he be sad?”

“would he care?”

“would he call me names?”

“tell me how pathetic i am?”

“leave me?”

“would he hate me?”

“tell me how ugly my body is”

“tell me how he hates the scars”

“tell me just how much he despises me”

the voices grew louder wither every question,

saying that he wanted mason to hate him,

that he did hate him,

in the very back of lopts mind, in the tiniest corner, he knew it all wasnt true, that he was being dramatic over nothing,

but even then, the memories of all the times he loved someone- all the times he didnt question if they hated him, what they all said to him,

he felt like doubting himself was the only way to have them not leave,

to not abandon him,

he took a deep breath before sighing, realizing his cup was empty, he decided that he had enough of a “break” and that he needed to start “working” again,

•

mason was sitting on the couch, some random tv show playing for background noise, when lopt wasnt “there” it was almost too quiet, in a way, mason had grown to love how loud and chaotic the house was with lopt- even if thery were the only two people in it.

he seen lopt walk into the kitchen for around 8~ minutes before he trudged his way into his room once more,

he didnt know excatly as to what lopt was doing,

granted whatever it was had to have been important, he didnt usually spend 3+ hours in a room alone silently, it started to make him worry, was lopt sick? just why did he seem so upset when he came home? is he okay? did he hurt himself?

•

lopt sat down at his desk once more, staring at the scribbled page, a sphere, he couldnt figure out how to shade it properly on the background,

he sighed turning his attention to the top left drawer,

he stood up walking over to his dresser, pulling out another drawer, he took out a roll of bandages, and some tissues, 

he knew that he shouldnt, that it was essentially pointless, that hed feel better soon enough,

but that fear crept back up,

“what about last time you didnt? remember? it got only worse because you didnt”

he rubbed the sides of his nose bridge, the voices were annoying, they knew that he was gonna, even without the encouragement.

he sat back down at his desk, sitting the tissues to his right and the badages to his left before pulling out the left hand drawer,

he rummaged through it, various miscellaneous items, before coming across a box,

a red box, seemingly quiet old, with yellow letters reading “do it” on the front,

he took one out, ‘unwrapping’ the razor blade,

straight edge,

he stared at it, contemplating just what hes doing with his life,

“i cant draw, i cant write, i cant make people happy, i cant make music, i can only recite the tales others have told, im worthless, im doless, i will never amount to anything or anyone in my life, god or not, human or not, this is deserved, if i cannot create, then i at lease deserve to bleed”

a mantra he told himself, attempting to poorly justify his actions,

•

mason listened at the door, hearing nothing, no pencil, no walking, almost no breathing, he didnt know everything about lopt, sure, but he knew that he didnt look well off, and what boyfriend would he be to his partner if he wasnt concerned?

they had an unspoken rule to always at least knock before walking into the others space, granted they had seen every part of each other, it was just a courtesy they had, 

though, something felt off,

mason felt as if he shouldnt knock, that lopt was hiding something,

all those sleepless nights where lopt comforted him abundantly, he had felt him get up, a few times he had caught lopt in the basement, he didnt know just what he was doing, he always hid something,

he didnt want to break any boundaries sure, thatd be rude and disrespectful, but, he had a weird feeling in his gut that it was for lopts own saftey,

“please forgive me for this” he muttered to himself,

sharply inhaling before opening the door,

simply greeted by lopts back.

•

lopt heard the door open, he had three lines going diagonally down his right arm, bleeding, he fumbled the razor, dropping it onto the floor, it had gotten rather dark by now, so it probably wouldnt be seen, he attempted to get the tissues, he had always been a great liar,

“ill just say i accidentally cut myself, if he asks what i was doing with a weapon, ill deflect and say i was being stupid”

it seems like he fumbled the tissues for a bit too long.

“hey”

mason said over his shoulder,

he moved his left hand to cover the cuts,

“o-oh, hey, whats wrong?”

“hm, well, i mean nothing? i guess, what are you doing?”

“i- you guess? is something the matter?”

mason had noticed he was oddly covering his forearm,

“you ignored my question.”

“huh?”

“i asked what youre doing.”

masons tone sounded alot more pissed off, granted he wasnt, just concered more than anything,

“o-oh i um, ok dont laugh but uh- i was trying to draw”

“and why are you covering your arm? are you hurt?”

“i- huh? wh- no, no! i uh, may have also been playing with a blade and accidentally scraped myself, nothing much”

“let me see”

“what?”

“let me see your injury”

lopt was taken aback, all of his previous partners never asked to see his wounds, scars sure but never his wounds, even if they werent self inflicted, he was shocked, he hadnt planned for this.

“i- i assure you dear, it isnt anything to worry about-“

“let me see it. are you hiding something?”

in that moment lopt felt small, like a child almost, weak, helpless, he didnt know how he could get out of this without mason either finding out or being suspicious of him.

“i- here”

lopt moved his left arm to mason, there were a few small cuts on it, though rather old looking,

lopt moved his right arm off the table, into the shadows to not call attention to it.

“uh huh, now the other?”

lopt seen his eternal life flash before his very eyes.

his mind went on autopilot and raised his right arm, he usually would fight but, he knew itd be pointless, mason would just worry more, thus making him keep a closer eye on lopt, he didnt want to feel selfish, not like that,

“oh my, i- oh my god,”

mason was shocked, he had suspected that lopt had hurt himself in the past, granted the scars,

but, he didnt think he still did it, sure the weird behavior, but it never really dawned on him until that moment.

.

mason had brought (more like dragged) lopt to the bathroom, running the slits under cool water, putting pressure to hopefully get the bleeding under control, he opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out another roll of bandages,

he stood behind lopt washing the blood off, still slightly in shock,

“why?”

“huh?”

“why do you do this?”

masom questioned, fully aware of the long list lopt was about to give out,

“i- well, i dunno..”

lopts voice trailed off before starting again,

“i mean, i dont even know why i do this, it just feels good? like i can do something right? it makes me feel like im not worthless”

mason hummed for a second before choosing his words

“do you feel normally that youre worthless?”

“i guess so, i dont know why, i have the best boyfriend, my life is great, i just dont know..”

“mmhm, what were you trying to draw?”

“i dont know. does it matter?”

lopt shot back

“well, you seemed frustrated at it, so im sure it’s important to you yeah? so then it’s important to me”

mason brought his hands around lopts wrist, rubbing it slightly attempting to calm him down

“i- i dont know, i just, i feel frustrated, so i tried to draw, but drawing makes me feel more frustrated, so i did this- an- and n-now-“

lopt began to stutter, tears swelling up in his eyes, mason had only seen him cry on a few occasions,

“shh- shh its okay, i know what youre saying, breath, okay?”

lopt inhaled deeply, feeling masons left hand move to wipe the tears away,

he didnt even know why he was crying,

mason bandaged lopts arm slightly tight, 

“shh, now, you wanna talk about this? or wait a little bit longer to calm down?”

“c-calm down”

“alright alright, shh youre okay, see?”

mason lead lopt into his bedroom, taking lopts hand under the covers as he had done for him every sleepless night,

lopt could feel his eyelids starting to droop, the warmth of his boyfriend comforting him, the love of his boyfriend comforting him,

he shoved his head into masons chest, finding it to be the most comfortable spot out of the entire bed,

mason ruffled his hair, slowly stroking his hand on his neck,

“y’know, you may be a god,

and you may be immortal, but,

ill be with you for as long as you need, in this life and after”

lopt didnt respond, just slightly nodded his head before burrying it deeper into masons chest, 

maybe tonight wasnt so bad after all,

spending time with mason- no, his boyfriend, was never bad.

lopt faded in and out of sleep, trying to fight the melatonin being produced, just to feel the sweet touch of his boyfriends skin, before he completely felt himself drift away, he heard him speak,

“I love you, i love you so much, never forget that, in this life and the next, ill always love you, lopt.”

[saratogaroadwrites]

Per Aspera Ad Astra (2/18)

Per Aspera Ad Astra | saratogaroad | banner art credit Rating: T Wordcount: 183k Characters: John 117, Cortana, Thomas Lasky, Sarah Palmer, Fireteam Osiris, The Warden Eternal, The Didact, The Librarian, ensemble of other Halo characters Relationships: John-117 & Cortana Other Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, fix-it, Male/Female Friendship, Canon-Typical Violence Warnings:  War imagery, seizures, graphic description of injury

Snatched from the jaws of death, Cortana and John find themselves adrift in a galaxy that has long since moved on. As they attempt to find their place in this strange new world, they find that the fight is not as over as they thought. Chasing a signal across the galaxy in desperate hope, they come to a stark conclusion: the Reclamation has begun, and they are helpless to stop it.

=

Dappled moonlight spread across the forest floor, shifting as a gentle breeze blew through the branches overhead. Four figures crept forward through the dim light, rifles at the ready and eyes scanning their surroundings. The man at the head of the small group made quick, sharp gestures with one hand, separating his four man team into two units. One went left, continuing into the trees, while the other went right and out into the open clearing ahead. Standard flanking maneuver; useful under most circumstances.

These weren't most circumstances.

The two man unit stepped into the clearing. Without trees to block it, the moonlight lit up their dark techsuits. Fallen leaves crunched beneath their heavy boots as they slowly walked forward, scanning the treeline for any sign of their target. They'd made it further than any other team thus far, and that was clearly making one of them nervous. He stopped in his scan, lowering his rifle and turning to his companion.

"Okay, seriously. This feels way too easy—"

Whatever complaint Spartan Buck had been about to finish died in a startled grunt as the round hit his chest with a solid thud, bright blue paint exploding across his front. He stumbled backwards but kept his footing, turning to face the shot, only for a second one to clip the right side of his jaw. Balance thoroughly thrown, his second stumble turned into a graceless fall onto his back. Metal thudded beneath him and he lay there groaning. Spartan Locke grimaced as he darted for cover.

"Buck's down," He barked into his radio, "Shots fired from north side of the arena."

"Again?", came the groan on the radio channel as the other remaining members of Fireteam Osiris picked up the pace through the trees. Spartan Vale added a snarky, "Keep this up and they'll start calling you Blue, Buck!"

Buck's less than polite grumbling was covered by a third round striking the tree Locke had hidden behind. He threw Buck a shrug and half-sympathetic glance, then bolted east to try and flank the target from the other side. Buck was left to groan on the falsified forest floor, using his feet to push himself along and out of the clearing. He hadn't gotten halfway to his target before he found himself looking up into an unimpressed blue face.

"You're dead, Spartan," Cortana said dryly, arms crossed over her chest. "Dead people don't crawl away."

Rifle abandoned at his side, Buck threw an arm over his eyes.

"Ah, Blue," He complained, the very anti-thesis of dead, "You're killin' me here. How many times is this?"

"Fifteen." She crouched down above his head, flicking a finger at the small red light mounted to his shoulder. The gesture turned the code from a 3 to a 0. It flashed once, then went dead. "Stay put."

Leaving Buck where he lay, Cortana returned her focus to John, a half dozen other processes monitoring the progress of the remaining three Spartan IV fireteams still making their way through the woods. Three minutes left on the training exercise and not one had closed a hundred meters. Sloppy work, that.

"Bets on who goes down next?" She asked.

John loaded another round into his sniper rifle, the stand balanced on a boulder. "Majestic 3," He replied, sighting halfway down the field. He wasn't Linda who could have picked the wings off a fly at five hundred meters, but he could hit the targets before him just fine. "Leaves his right side open."

"Majestic 2 tends to cover that for him," Cortana noted, leaning back against a nearby tree. "Not that he should have to. Didn't they train these Spartans to watch their own flanks?"

"We're working on it." A blue eye flicked to her. In just his techsuit and BDU's, John almost blended into the dappled shadows of the AR construct. It made the goal of this mission—finding and eliminating him under a strict time limit—that much harder. Maybe a little too hard; this set of mission parameters had been in rotation for a week, and so far only Fireteam Crimson had actually managed to complete it. They weren't in the rotation today. "You're biased."

"Oh, absolutely and completely." Cortana teased, though she was serious about it. Each and every Spartan IV was a good soldier, the best and brightest of the UNSC. Strong, swift, brave, and well trained. They had to have been to have outlasted the war. She'd have trusted any of them with her life, bet on any of them to come out on top in a real firefight, and knew they could all come out alive and well at the end of any Covenant skirmish. They were Spartans. She'd be among the first to defend them from anyone saying they weren't.

They just weren't her Spartans.

It wasn't a fair comparison to make. No one could ever compete with a II, even if he tied one hand behind his back.

Leaning her head back against the tree, she watched through multiple sets of eyes as the three fireteams still standing made their way forward. Locke had rejoined with his remaining teammates, while Fireteam Majestic made a break for the next clearing. John sighted down his rifle, aiming for Majestic 3's chest, but he didn't bother pulling the trigger. Cortana sighed as a distant explosion thudded through the air; the process keeping an eye on them had a clear view of the paint bomb that had just gone off under their feet, knocking them all back and coating them in bright blue paint.

"Fireteam Majestic, that's a total kill," the process said to them, "Quit the field, Spartans."

Heckling cheers and boos from the distant audience followed the team off the field. Cortana crossed her arms and gave John an unimpressed look. His shoulders lifted in a half shrug as he switched targets to Fireteam Kodiak, who had taken advantage of the situation to close the gap. They were at four hundred meters and closing, with just under a minute and a half to go. They could still make it if they hurried.

And if they didn't get shot down like targets, she added to herself as John fired four shots in quick succession. Kodiak 1, 3, and 4 went down hard. Kodiak 2 dodged at the last second, splattered with paint off her teammate's falling bodies, and she vanished into the trees. Close, but no cigar. John reloaded, and with one more crack of his sniper rifle he blasted Kodiak 2 back with a single shot the moment she popped out of cover. She fell back with a startled cry, landing hard on her back. Majestic was still a groaning heap in the clearing, and Osiris' three standing members were—there.

Also too far. Cortana rolled her eyes as the buzzer rang.

"Time's up!" Came the voice of Spartan Commander Sarah Palmer, "On your feet, Majestic. You're Spartans, so act like it."

Four groaning "yes ma'am"s coincided with Majestic picking themselves up off the floor. John got back to his feet, rifle still in hand, as the AR simulation around them faded away. Trees became metal columns, boulders platforms, and it all folded back into the floor of S-Deck 2. With the exercise now over, the "fallen" Spartans that littered the field began to clamber back to their feet. The paint splatters remained, mostly on chests but some on necks or faces. Buck was scrubbing at his jaw.

"Did you have to nail me in the face?" He asked as John made his way forward, Cortana a pace behind him. "I swear, this stuff gets everywhere. Last time I was washing it out from behind my ears!"

"You'd think that would teach you to keep your head in cover," Palmer said with a less than professional eyeroll. Cortana clasped her hands behind her back as the Commander's eye swept over the motley crew before her. "Can someone explain to me how is it that, out of over a hundred fireteams on rotation, only one team has ever gotten close enough to take the Chief down?"

Silence.

"That was a question, Spartans."

An unfair one. John glanced back at her; Cortana pressed her lips together. The idea of these missions was training. If that meant training by frustration, fine, but they were still training. It had only been six months. It had taken years for the IIs to get as good as they were. The IVs were good, but they could hardly be expected to be up to par with a II in just six months! She shifted her weight from foot to foot. Palmer looked to her.

"Something to say, Cortana?"

"Yes ma'am," Cortana held her head up high, "If I recall correctly, Commander, your orders were to treat you all like any other Spartans." She looked at the paint stained IV's all around them. "I'm happy to provide logs from the II's training records, but failure rates like this were pretty par for the course."

In their earliest missions. Palmer raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

"Uh-huh. See—"

"And with all due respect, ma'am," Cortana cut her off before she could start to browbeat her Spartans again, "You weren't on the team that took the Chief down that time. If you want your teams to do it, maybe you should put your money where your mouth is and prove you can do it, too."

Soft oohs and hissed breaths rang through the deck. Cortana didn't flinch as Palmer looked her dead in the eye and smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile.

"You know what?" She cocked her head, "I think I will. Chief?"

The beginnings of a smile dropped off John's face so fast anyone else would have doubted it had ever been there to begin with.

"Ma'am?"

"You and me, right here, right now." Palmer rolled her shoulders, cracking her neck, "Let's settle this IVs versus IIs debate once and for all."

It would do that, at least. John turned to gesture Cortana back into position with him only for Palmer to interrupt with a sharp Ah! and raised hand.

"Just the two of us," She said, "If we don't get AI in our heads, neither do you."

Cortana didn't bother to correct her on that detail. Her chip was still docked in their quarters, nowhere near John's lace. If Palmer needed to believe the only reason no one had beaten John was because she was riding shotgun, well, she'd be in for a shock. She shared another look with John and watched the corner of his mouth tick upwards. He was going to have some fun.

"Standard rules," She said, taking one holographic stride past the Commander and towards the control terminal. Not that she needed it, but it would take her off the field. "First to ten points is the victor."

"Set the timer for ten minutes," Commander Palmer said, grabbing a paintball BR from the armory platform. She rolled her shoulders, checked the magazine, and set her chin with a smirk. "Probably only need half of that, but might as well be fair about it."

As if that would save her ego. Cortana kept a professionally blank expression as she looked back at her partner, arching a single eyebrow. He shrugged his left shoulder once, the sign of an all-clear, and she huffed out a soft laugh.

"Acknowledged," She said, giving the deck the orders. The platforms rose and fell at her command, reforming the forested arena and lifting the rest of them into spectator positions. Cortana crossed her arms over her chest to watch, tracking two Spartans in their element. There was no slow snipe and kill this time around, but a full on firefight through the moonlit trees. It took less than two seconds for rounds to be exchanged.

Not bad. Jury was still out on if it would be good enough.

"Ma'am, should we…" Spartan Thorne gestured forward at the shooting match a minute later, "Should we get involved?"

"That's sweet, Spartan, but the Chief can handle himself."

"Yes ma'am." Thorne smiled faintly, "I meant should we back up the Commander?"

Cortana laughed.

"Where do we stand with the Fireteams?"

"Fireteams Avalanche through Castle are showing marked improvement under the new regimen," Cortana's voice pierced the echo of water against the shower walls, clear and bright through the small quarters they had come to call home. "Crimson's off the charts, as usual, and Detroit through London are reaching their peaks."

"And Majestic?"

Silence. It was answer enough. Rinsing the last of the soap from his body, John turned off the water and stepped out of the stall. The seconds ticked by as he dried and dressed efficiently, folding the towel and returning it to its place. Rubbing the back of his neck, he stepped out of the small head and into the just slightly larger room that housed his bunk, foot locker, and bedside table with podium for Cortana. Leaning against the frame of the bulkhead, he watched her work. She was sitting in her usual position, legs crossed and holo-screens unfolded in front of her. He watched Majestic's latest combat sim play out, and watched as Spartan Hoya took three holographic shots to the head as he darted out of cover ahead of the rest of his team.

That had not been a good run.

"On their own, Spartans Thorne, Madsen, and Grant are improving, but Spartan Hoya is…" Cortana trailed off with a grimace before she found the right word. "Reckless. As for Spartan DeMarco, I'm not sure." Files and charts opened in front of her, data streaming by too fast for him to track. "There's something I can't quite put my finger on with this one." The file closed down and she glanced over her shoulder. "They're still bugging you, too."

It wasn't a question. John met her gaze, then tipped his head forward. Majestic did concern him; DeMarco had very little control over his team, Hoya had equally little control over his impulses, and Grant, Madsen, and Thorne were used to acting as soldiers, not Spartans. The five of them had the capability to be great, but only if they survived long enough to get there. Cortana closed her eyes.

"Right. I'll add more time with Majestic to the roster." Another file opened up. Pushing out of the door frame, he took the few strides towards his bunk. "They can have Crimson's slot since it's obvious they don't need our help."

"Only in paintball," John retorted, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards. "Blue isn't exactly their color."

"No, it's yours." Cortana shot back with a cheeky grin that lit up her entire face, "Considering you took a whole clip across your front."

John huffed quietly. She had the room to stand on that one: he'd completely frozen up during the round, the AR deck having been replaced with a foreign vista in the throes of war. Forerunner soldiers fighting armored beings, orders being barked in his ear and a voice in the back of his head saying that it was wrong, all wrong! It had lasted only for a second, but his lapse in attention had been long enough for Detroit 4 to to take advantage of and remove him from play. It had been a damn good shot and he'd been sure to say as much.

He was also sure that Cortana had noticed. She had given him the oddest look when he'd quit the field but had drawn no attention to it otherwise. He was still waiting for her to say something about it, but instead she dismissed all of her holo-screens and leaned towards him, raising an eyebrow.

"You gave up an admiralty position for paintball and AR missions." She shook her head in a mockery of disbelief. "I'm still not sure that was your wisest decision."

It was. It meant he got to spend more time with her.

"Admirals don't take combat missions," he said aloud, "Can you really see me behind a desk or leading from a bridge?"

"From a bridge? Yes. Doing paperwork…" Cortana wrinkled her nose. "Not really, no. Okay maybe you have a point," she raised a finger when one corner of his mouth quirked upwards again. "Don't grin at me, I can admit when you have a point and—" She stopped mid-sentence, "Company."

The tiny smile he had been considering dropped away as she got to her feet, stepping aside to allow access to a second hologram. Her blue glow began to war with the orange glow emanating from Roland's avatar; Infinity's ship-board AI, the man in the ancient aviator suit, popped up with a grin that quickly vanished.

"You know," He began, planting his hands on his hips, "I would seriously like to find out how you always know I'm showing up before I get here."

Cortana was just that good. Sharing a sidelong look with her, John added to the thought. She was just that protective, and the feeling was mutual. He watched as a polite but entirely false smile crossed her face.

"What can I say? We're just that good." She cocked her head. "Need something?"

"Oh, about a half million things, but I won't bore you with the details," Roland narrowed his eyes playfully at her as she grinned, "The Captain wants to see you two on the bridge ASAP. We've finally gotten our marching orders."

Finally. Nearly six months in Earth orbit, dealing with the recovery of the wreckage from the Mantle's Approach, the training of Spartan Fireteams, and coordinating efforts to gain a foothold on Requiem from so many light years away. It was the longest pre-mission brief either of them had ever had to deal with. Even Operation Red Flag had had less preparations before they would have enacted it, but things had been different then. As far as nearly everyone was concerned, the main threats to humanity were dead. Why couldn't they take their time to make sure everything went well?

Nearly six months was a very long time for the Didact to get himself re-established. How much longer did they have before he struck again?

"We're going to Requiem?" John asked.

Roland nodded, "That's what I'm hearing. Looks like those rumors on S-Deck were pretty true after all." He lowered his hands. "Captain's got a special, ears only mission for you two, though."

The pair of them shared another look. Cortana spread her hands in helpless confusion; she had no idea what this was about, either. Whatever it was, they were going into it blind.

Hardly anything new there.

"We'll be right there. Chief," Cortana smiled at him, though he could tell it was more concerned than amused. Something was bothering her. "I'll see you on the bridge. Try not to get lost this time."

"No promises," John replied, tipping his head in Roland's direction. "Roland."

"Master Chief," Roland replied with a crisp regulation salute and a not so regulation smile. He beamed at an amused Cortana and added, "Race you."

The pair of them vanished, taking their colored lights with them. John was left sitting on his bunk, eyes quickly adjusting to the stark overhead light. The headache curling over his right eye throbbed vengefully at the change. Rubbing the back of his neck, he gathered the small wrist-mounted tacpad from his bedside table and strode into the familiar halls of the S-Deck.

S-Deck was actually a bit of a misnomer. Taking up three of Infinity's fifty decks, the area reserved for Spartan use consisted of training facilities, AR decks, VR rooms, a mess hall, and almost an entire deck for sleeping quarters alone. The room that he and Cortana shared was one of the few with only a single bunk; most of the other rooms were meant to sleep an entire fireteam together, shared head included.

He wasn't sure if he should have been jealous of the other fireteams, or grateful he didn't have to beat anyone to shower before armoring up. Maybe he was a little of both. The way some of the crew still stared at him, like he was some sort of museum piece on display, settled uneasily beneath his skin. Most had long since stopped, having had their fill or having learned there was really nothing to see, but some of them…

Well. He tended to avoid the labs on a good day, anyway. Shaking off the thought, he called the elevator car that would take him across the length of the ship and to the bridge. Infinity was a well-oiled machine. The car came swiftly, empty as everyone scurried about their stations, and the doors opened. He stepped inside.

"Hey!" A voice called out from behind him, "Hold the door!"

John kept the door from closing with one hand as four figures rushed inside. In techsuits and BDUs alone they could have been any Spartan at all, but he'd made a point to learn every face and name in the battalion. He knew these four, and let the door shut once they were all safely aboard.

Spartan Olympia Vale, Spartan Holly Tanaka, Spartan Edward Buck, and Spartan Jameson Locke. The four members of Fireteam Osiris were, like most of the other Fireteams, rarely seen apart. Nearly all of the teams had gravitated to their units, quickly becoming brothers or sisters in arms, and they had made their way up through training like that. Something about needing one another to get through the combat sims had brought them together, Cortana would have said, though they both knew it was part and parcel of being a Spartan.

Nothing good had ever come of a Spartan on their own. Not in the long run.

As the elevator car began its journey, John scanned the four Spartans in front of him. They'd all scrubbed themselves clean of paint, though a shower could do nothing for the yellow-green bruise taking up half of Spartan Buck's jawline. He still grinned.

"Chief!" The man exclaimed, "Just the man I wanted to see. We saw that Grifball game with Detroit the other night?" Shaking his head, he whistled low, "Talk about getting their asses handed to them. Don't suppose you're up for another go?"

"Only if you want to get your ass handed to you," Spartan Tanaka said before John could reply, "He kicked all four of Detroit up and down the centerline by himself." She threw John an impressed look, "Speaking of, where did you learn how to play like that?"

"Classified," John replied flatly. Cortana would have understood it for the joke that it was meant to be, while Fireteam Osiris all eyed him with varying levels of uncertainty. He held back a quiet sigh and added, "Another time. Once your bruises have healed."

"Low blow," Buck muttered, rubbing at his jaw. It would be healed in a day or less. And maybe the Commander was right: maybe it would teach him to keep his head down. The GEN-2 armor was a wonder of engineering, but it didn't make them invulnerable. Buck needed to learn to stick to cover before he started chattering. He shook his head and kept going, "We could make it a team match, though. You and me against Vale and Tanaka, since, you know, you're down a full team."

Whatever hint of amusement had been building in John's chest faded like dust in the wind. It had been six months since Lord Hood had told him, regretfully, that Blue Team was considered MIA. In those six months, no one had been able to learn anything. Cortana kept a process constantly searching for them, but even she hadn't been able to find anything. His gaze slid to Spartan Locke as the other Spartan watched him with narrowed eyes, but years of experience kept his face blank.

"Another time," He repeated, gesturing to the door with his chin as the car slowed to a stop at R&D. "Your stop."

"Uh, yeah, yeah, next time, next for sure and—ah! Vale!"

"Come on, fanboy," Spartan Vale grabbed her teammate by the arm, dragging him from the car. "We're going to be late."

"You know, I can walk by myself—"

"Then walk."

"Chief," Spartan Tanaka nodded as she headed out of the car after her teammates. Spartan Locke lingered just outside the door, watching John as they closed. He pressed the button for the Bridge and left Osiris behind.

Once more alone in the car, he allowed himself to sigh quietly. The tacpad on his wrist buzzed; he looked down, huffing out a quiet laugh.

Maybe not entirely alone.

The blue question mark on his screen bounced up and down, Cortana's wordless inquiry her way of checking up on him without actually putting him on the spot by asking. It worked better this way; he was able to narrow it down to a single status rather than try and find the words. She'd have waited forever for him to find them, he knew, but the rest of the ship was hardly that patient. He tapped the screen, three colored dots appearing in place of the question mark. Green, amber, and red.

His finger hovered over the amber status light for a second, the only allowance he would allow himself to make, before he pressed the green one instead.

Everything was fine. He was fine.

He knew she'd never believe it if he said it aloud, and was grateful she didn't make him try.

"Attention all hands!" Roland's voice came over the address system, drawing his attention upwards. "Prep for slipspace jump."

That was confirmation enough for him that they were headed to Requiem. He took a deep breath as the elevator rolled to a gentle stop on the command deck, walking forward through the crowded halls. Officers ran this way and that, tablets in hand or fingers pressed to their ears as they ran through their most recent orders. John made his way forward in a steady, slow pace, careful not to run into anyone. The throng began to clear as he came to the door to the bridge, which slid open automatically for him. John snapped out a crisp salute.

"Sir," he greeted the Captain, "Permission to come aboard?"

"Granted," Captain Lasky replied with a rueful grin at Cortana, standing at parade rest across the holo-table from him. She shrugged, biting back a smile that made something warm curl around John's heart. "At ease, Chief. No need to be so formal here."

Maybe not. He lowered his hand and ducked beneath the bulkhead, pausing for a moment to allow an ensign to hurry past him. If the halls outside the bridge had been full, the bridge itself seemed like the center of the hive. Men and women hurried from station to station, going over the data on their screens and planning accordingly. Outside the massive viewing window, slipspace parted around them like a river.

John stepped up to the holo-table, hands coming to rest at the small of his back. Cortana cocked her head at him just so, arching an eyebrow. He flicked his eyes to her, then back to the Captain. Everything was fine. Nothing to see here.

She and the Captain exchanged a glance that made him wonder what they'd been speaking about before his arrival, but then the Captain shook his head as if chastising himself. A third source of light entered the room as a holographic model of Requiem appeared to hang suspended above it, Covenant ships in standard formation all around the hollow planet.

"Before we left Requiem six months ago," the Captain began, "We left sensor beacons and drones to map the planet. They've been sending data back ever since, and recently, that data's become of interest to FLEETCOM."

With a flick of his fingers, Captain Lasky brought up several files on screen. Data scrolled past; John made quick work of reading it before his brow furrowed.

"Forerunner signals." He glanced at Cortana, "New targets?"

"Old target," She said, "The signal matches the Librarian, and it's broadcasting in a UNSC distress pattern." She looked back to the files. "Near as I can figure? She's trying to get our attention."

"Or someone using her signal is," Captain Lasky said, "Hence FLEETCOM's interest. A chance to speak with even the recording of a peaceful Forerunner is something no one wants to turn down, except…" He shook his head faintly. "The source is behind enemy lines. Scan drones report a battalion of Knights and Crawlers in the surrounding areas."

"And where there's one battalion…" Cortana began,

"There's more." John finished. He shared a look with Cortana, who inclined her head. "We have coordinates?"

"We do." Cortana pulled up a topographical scan. None of it looked familiar, John realized. It wasn't the canyons that Gypsy Company had cleaned out the last time he'd had boots on Requiem, but some other network of tunnels, ridges, and caverns. "Scans show a whole network of underground tunnels and access ways." She added in a half amused aside, "Seems the Forerunners who built this one were some pretty busy bees."

"Roland calls them Type-A's on steroids," the Captain added dryly. He pushed at the map to zoom in. "It would take at least five fireteams to canvas a space this large, assuming the Prometheans are the only threat on station."

John knew better to make an assumption like that. He and Cortana wouldn't have been called up for an eyes-only mission if things were going to be that easy, and the implication was as obvious as Cortana's glow.

"Should we expect back up, sir?"

"Unfortunately, no." Captain Lasky sighed. "Navy wants Requiem retaken ASAP. It'll be all boots on the ground and we can't spare a single fireteam for recon. Once we get there, you'll be dropping in solo." He looked up at Cortana, then to John. "I'll be honest with you, Chief. I don't like this idea of sending you two down there alone. Not against these numbers."

John and Cortana shared another glance. Captain Lasky had become well known for his gentler touch with the soldiers under his command. He didn't hesitate to send them in to get the job done, it was just that he regretted every life spent in the process of completing the mission. He was a good Captain; younger than most, but learning quickly and learning well. He was also one of the best commanding officers John had ever served under. He shifted his weight subtly.

"We've handled worse, Captain," He said, pitching his tone low to try and reassure the Captain that there was no need to be concerned. It was an honest truth all the same. "Impossible odds are kind of our specialty."

Captain Lasky snorted in amusement. "Well aware. I still don't like it."

John was saved from any more awkward attempts at reassurance—and from Cortana having to save him again—by the door to the bridge opening. Commander Palmer strode in like she owned the place, which as the Infinity's XO she technically did. Blue paint was still speckled across her face, a sight that turned up the corners of Captain Lasky's smile.

"Commander Palmer."

"Captain Lasky," She greeted with a nod to John, "Chief, Cortana. I'm not interrupting bedtime stories, am I?"

"On the contrary," Captain Lasky leaned both hands on the holotable. The files slid away to return Requiem to the display. "I was just telling the Chief and Cortana that things are about to get interesting. Show starts at 0500."

Commander Palmer frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "We've waited six months. Another forty-eight hours to run the teams through the wargames—"

"Are off the table." The Captain interrupted, "The Navy wants everyone ready. Now."

Commander Palmer's frown deepened. She and her Captain locked eyes for a long few seconds, and then she turned to face the Chief. Over the past six months, John had found himself slipping into the de-facto role of her 2IC, a little detail that had come in handy a few times while training the IV's. He hadn't exactly wanted it, leadership not something he sought, but he'd come to settle into the role well enough. It certainly kept him and Cortana busy most days.

"Chief," the Commander began, "You two have had hands on every one of the fireteams and have firsthand experience with Requiem. Are they ready for it?"

John didn't hesitate. "Ma'am," He said firmly, "Yes, ma'am."

"Uh-huh." Maybe not entirely convinced, Commander Palmer looked to Cortana.

"They wouldn't be here if they weren't ready, Commander," Cortana said without missing a step. Though they both shared in their misgivings about Majestic, throwing the one fireteam under the Pelican wouldn't help them. He made a mental note to add them to more combat rotations before they reached Requiem; with just over thirteen hours until then, there was still some good they could do. Cortana nodded almost as if she'd caught the thought. "They're good to drop."

If Commander Palmer had any misgivings after such a resounding display of certainty, she set them aside.

"Copy that," She said, "Then it means it's time for us to go and get all dressed up for the party. Wouldn't do to keep our guests waiting for us."

As she strode off the bridge, John exchanged another glance with Cortana. She shrugged up to her ears.

Some things, it seemed, really had changed.

Some things would never change.

"Sure you wouldn't rather take a seat?" Cortana asked, safely nestled in John's SNI. She ran a final suite of checks even as she waited for him to answer, reassuring herself that the suit and its wearer were in peak condition. The suit was fine, but John…his cortisol levels were off the charts. Something told her it wasn't just because of being stuck in a Pelican again. "Ride may get a bit bumpy."

"We'll be fine." John replied, holding onto one of the crash rails. Infinity's full contingent of Pelicans was ready to drop as soon as they cleared the slipspace corridor. Having no team of his own to ride with, he and Cortana were borrowing a slot on Fireteam Crimson's bird. All four of them were seated and strapped in, but Cortana knew John preferred not to be. He had always hated losing control. "How long until we drop?"

"Three minutes and counting," Cortana replied. She tabbed up a few files. "Want to go over the intel again?"

He gave the faintest nod. Having been ready for it, she set the files across his visor's imaging system. A top-down map of the area opened up, revealing the network of canyons, caves, and pits that was the sector of Requiem they would be dropping into. Though all of Requiem had been constructed, this was a more natural looking sector at first glance, the network tangling up into Requiem's inner workings. It was practically a fortress. Pulling anyone out would turn into a mess very quickly.

It'd be good to get back to form.

"Three days ago," Cortana began, "Scanning buoys on Requiem's outer edge picked up a signal, Forerunner in origin and broadcasting in known UNSC distress patterns. They traced it to this network of canyons and were able to match it to the Librarian."

"Does the signal say anything?"

"Unfortunately, no. It's more of an identification signal than anything, letting us know who's broadcasting but not why." She paused then added, "And that is assuming that it is the Librarian broadcasting to begin with and not a trap from some over-ambitious Knight."

"We'll deal with it either way. Intel on the location?"

"Sparse." Cortana increased zoom on the map. It was even more of a maze up close. "The scanner drones couldn't get much before they were spotted. As of last scan, there were Knights camped out all along this ridge," She lit up a sector in crimson red, then another further away in cautious yellow. "And a whole pack of crawlers down in this basin. Last count puts it at roughly three hundred Prometheans, and I'm willing to bet they'll be all over us the second they realize we're there."

"So," the Chief nodded, "A Thursday."

Cortana snorted out a laugh and banished the files. "Better than a Friday," She retorted, "We'll have to be careful in some of the switchbacks, but otherwise it's your usual clear the area sort of mission. Nothing we can't handle."

So why could she not shake the worry in her gut? Was the lack of backup really bothering her so badly? She set a process to analyze the thought but there was no time to wait for it. Roland's voice came over the address system.

"All hands, prepare for slipspace exit in three, two,"

One. Impact shook Infinity from bow to stern. Fireteam Crimson rocked in their seats. John barely moved.

"Come out of slipspace and crash right through a super carrier," Cortana muttered. "Show-offs."

"You'd have done the same thing."

"That's hardly the point," She rolled her eyes at him before banishing all traces of amusement. It was time to get down to business, and she slipped into the role of his combat partner as easily as he put on his armor. Opening her link to Infinity's systems she monitored the chatter. "Frigates away. Pelicans launching in five, four, three, two—"

One.

"All fireteams, launch!"

"Hang on to your helmets!" The pilot called back, and with a low rumble the Pelican lifted off.

Using the crash rails as a guide, John made his way past Fireteam Crimson and to the cockpit doors, watching out the window as their bird and dozens more soared out of the hanger, diving through the lines of plasma fire that hung between them and Requiem's entryway. The frigates that the Infinity carried were lighting up the blackness of space with MAC rounds and missiles, tearing through the Banshees and Phantoms that dove back and forth, scouring anything they could hit with plasma fire. Debris littered the corridor; one bird nearly hit theirs as it was forced to quickly maneuver away from an exploding Banshee. Their pilot compensated with a curse. Opening up the local comm-channel, John let it all wash over him.

Six months of tentative peace were finally coming to a close. Cortana wasn't sure how she felt about that, her analysis coming up empty, but here they were. One way or another, it was time to get back to work.

"Requiem corridor is clear! Repeat, Requiem corridor is clear!"

"Hang on!" Their pilot called, "We're going in!"

Under her skilled hands, the Pelican dove for the light that was Requiem's door. John tightened his grip on the crash rails as their bird fell into formation with a dozen others.

"Sure hope getting out of here's easier than last time," Just ahead of them, the light of the entrance was growing too bright to look at. John ducked his head.

"We'll be fine."

"I hope so," Cortana whispered. "I hope so."

Compared to the utter mess that was the space outside of Requiem, the false skies inside the hollow planet were peaceful. En-route to Fireteam Crimson's destination, Pelican 329 soared over winding stone canyons, the artificial sun baking the stone below. The Chief watched the network of tunnels and formations slip past the open hatch, noting a few chokepoints visible from even this high up.

He also saw, much to Cortana's audible annoyance, more Knights patrolling the ridgeline than the drones had caught.

"We'll be fine."

"Not what I'm worried about," She shot back. Motion caught his eye before he could reply.

"Sure you don't want some back-up, sir?" Crimson Leader asked; he turned his head. Crimson Lead met his faceplate with her own, tilting her head towards the drop. "There's a lot of targets down there."

There were. But he'd faced down stronger numbers on his own before, and this would be no different. Besides, while an extra gun or four would have come in handy, he had all the back-up he needed.

"We'll be fine," he said, inclining his head in her direction. "Focus on your team, Spartan."

Crimson Leader nodded firmly.

"Sir," She replied, "Yes sir. Good hunting."

"We're over the coordinates now, Master Chief!" The pilot called out over the radio, "Now's your chance!"

"Copy that, 329," Cortana answered for him, "See you when it's over."

Wasting no more time, the Chief leapt from the Pelican and tucked himself straight into freefall. A waypoint popped up on his HUD, guiding him through the minute adjustments he'd need to make with his thrusters in order to land safely. He watched the altimeter in his HUD rapidly count down, rapidly ticking down the distance. Eight hundred meters. Four hundred. Two hundred. One hundred.

At fifty meters from the ground, he rotated his body to get his feet beneath him and fired his thrusters. Speed bled away like water through a hose, leaving him to safely touch down on a stone archway that linked two canyon walls half a kilometer from the cavern entrance.

"For once, you did not land on your face," Cortana whistled. "I'm impressed."

John rolled his eyes. Reaching back for his rifle, the Chief did a quick sweep of the area. Crimson's Pelican hadn't been the quietest bird around, and no one watching the skies would have missed him dropping like a missile. It was time to get moving. A waypoint appeared on his HUD before he could ask her for one; it seemed like they had both been itching to get back into the field.

Setting off down the canyon, the two of them walked in companionable silence. He could feel her in the back of his mind, keeping watch over him and his systems, and he accepted that for the comfort it was. It felt good to be getting back to work with her, like stretching a muscle that had gone unused for too long. He knew she felt the same way.

"Hostiles, dead ahead," She said as they approached a turn. "I'm reading four Knight-Watcher pairs."

His motion tracker lit up in red, eight dots headed his way at speed. They'd definitely noticed his less than subtle arrival. Good; he could use a workout. Putting his back to the sun-baked stone, the Chief carefully peered around the corner.

Promethean forces had no standard formation, but the four Knights walking his way were in a staggered line all the same. Too spread out to hit at the same time, the Watchers buzzing over their heads would keep any grenades off them. He'd have to get in closer, finish things off personally. In short?

Nothing they couldn't handle. Red outlines surrounded all eight targets as he tensed his muscles, preparing to leap. One of the Knights stopped walking, tilting its angular head. For half a second, everything stopped.

The Chief pounced on the opening. Darting out of cover he opened fire on the Watchers first, bullets slamming into their wing-structure. With the element of surprise on his side he was able to hit the first one dead on, sending it crashing to the ground, before the Knights even realized that he was there. They whirled around, screaming at him in their oddly disconcerting way, and then they were moving. The Watchers buzzed away but not so far as to be removed from their assigned Knights. The Knight who was now running solo charged at him, energy blade buzzing angrily in its clawed hand. The Chief sidestepped the charge, pivoting on one heel to slam the other foot into the construct's back. It went down with a rattle, down but not out, but he removed it from the field with a hard stomp.

Leaving the data burst behind the Chief rolled out of the way of the attacking Knights, focusing fire on the Watchers above them. His rifle barked, three round bursts making quick work of the Promethean constructs. They fell in pieces to the canyon floor, harmless debris and fading light. The Knights were still firing on him.

"Watch out!" Cortana exclaimed, "New weapon on the field!"

One shot slammed into his chest. The impact would have turned unarmored flesh into ground meat; it still sent even his bulky frame reeling. His shields screamed as they plummeted down to half strength and he ducked back into cover as another shot of bright orange light flared past him; Cortana had tagged it as high intensity pulse weaponry. An EMP of some kind, and one that could get past the hardening of his shields. Just one more new element to deal with.

Counting the shots the Chief waited for three seconds before a lull came in the firing. As soon as it did, he twisted on one ankle and opened fire, a half magazine of rounds slamming into the reloading Knight. It went down without even time to scream, but the two remaining Knights were still shooting. Motion carrying him across the canyon entrance, the Chief ducked back into cover to let his shields recharge. He reloaded his rifle as he waited; two Knights left, but they were closing fast. More light-shot blazed past him, close enough that his charging shields flickered. Cortana silenced the warning as he twisted out of cover once more; palming a grenade from his thigh mag-lock, he let it fly.

Without the Watchers to grab the projectile away from them, the Knights were forced to retreat from the explosion that followed. It was a tactic they were fond of, and one that left them open as their light trails showed exactly where they were going. Though they split up across the canyon, the Chief was ready. One went down just as it began to reappear, a well-placed burst getting between the plates that made up its face, and the other soon followed. Silence fell upon the canyon.

"Eight data purges confirmed. All targets eliminated." Cortana said, "And all without losing your shields. Looks like six months of downtime didn't kill your edge after all."

John snorted quietly. With half an eye on his motion tracker he scanned the canyon again, just to be sure. When he spotted no targets, he made his way forward. The new and improved weapon was laying on the ground where he had felled the Knight holding it; slinging his rifle onto his mag-lock, the Chief picked up the new gun and considered it. It was built like a scattershot and looked like a scattershot, so what was different? The readings popped up on his HUD.

"Huh," Cortana hummed pensively, "It's a scattershot, but the ammo it fires operates on a different frequency than the ones we've seen before. That's how it drained your shields so fast."

"The Prometheans are learning how to handle us."

"And a lot faster than I'd like them to, that's for sure." Cortana sighed, "I'll packet this up for the techs back ship-side. We're going to need to harden shields accordingly." His shields whined, drained, and began to cycle as she performed the necessary changes. Slotting the scattershot onto one of his rear mag-locks, he grabbed the fallen pulse grenades while he waited for his shields to recharge. "There. Not that I'd stand in front of them and let them empty the chamber on you, but it should hold up better now."

"You've gotten good at that," John pointed out.

"I had a lot of time to practice." She replied, and his gut twisted. Nearly five years of drifting in the dark. They'd never talked about it. He wasn't sure how to bring it up, or if he even should. She seemed fine… "Not so much recently, though. You Spartans know how to keep me busy in downtime."

"It's not downtime," John replied, setting his feelings aside for the moment. "Training the IVs is a battle."

"Training Majestic is a battle," Cortana countered, "You like Crimson."

That was true. Not that he'd ever admit it, but the four of them did remind him of Blue Team in their younger years. Just thinking about that, about them, made his gut twist harder. He still didn't know where his team was and it was long past irking him. Shaking off the thought, he started walking again.

"Crimson gets their missions done," He said, not needing to stop as they encountered another Knight. While he wasn't as used to fighting Prometheans as he was fighting Covenant, there was nothing overly special about them. Dodge the fire, return fire, stay out of close combat range unless absolutely necessary. He barely even needed to think about it anymore. "Majestic would be fine if they could work as a team instead of lone operators."

"True, but consider their role models." Cortana retorted, her voice casual as if she weren't riding shotgun in his head while he mowed down ancient constructs. She was used to this, too. "You and Commander Palmer both run solo more often than not. I'm not surprised it's rubbed off on them."

"I don't work solo," John said, "I have you."

A second of silence and then a soft, "Yes. Yes you do."

The pair of them fell into another companionable quiet as the Chief made his way through the canyon, mowing down Prometheans as he went. His mission timer read fifteen minutes and counting when he finally reached the waypoint, a cavern entrance carved into the wall of the canyon. He paused at the mouth, considering the darkness below.

"Do we have any information on terrain?" He asked, "Scan data?"

"Not much," Cortana's frown was audible, "There's some data from one of the geological survey drones, but all the teams are sure of is that it connects to a network of tunnels and caverns that spread through all of Requiem's first and second layers." Her face appeared in his HUD, brow furrowed. "It's a maze down there. Best I can tell you is that it seems pretty empty."

Empty, twisting, and connected to Requiem's Forerunner tunnels. The perfect place for an ambush. And what had happened to the Crawlers?

"Is there another way to reach the signal?"

"Not unless you feel like climbing across four kilometers of canyon and then digging a really big hole. It's tunnels or bust, Chief."

Perfect. The Chief considered the options all the same, turning his head to scan the rest of the canyon. A sheer rock wall blocked him from continuing forward in that direction; he could climb it, but he'd be completely exposed in the process. Not something he really wanted to do without a second set of hands on station. He turned back, considering the tunnel entrance. As far as choices went, there really only was one. He would have to duck to fit into the cavern, the five foot entrance shorter than he was. Wind had scraped and sanded down the edges, leaving them rippling and uneven. Another gust of wind blew across the entrance, sending a howling noise into the air. Cortana made a disgusted sound.

"Well, that's not ominous at all."

"It's just the wind."

"Uh-huh." She arched an unimpressed eyebrow. "And Requiem is just a planet."

"Don't tell me you're scared." John teased gently, taking mild amusement in how she reared back, utterly insulted. "You glow in the dark."

Cortana was saved from having to come up with a witty retort by the chirp of the radio. The Chief tele-hailed the connection open.

"Master Chief? Palmer. How's it going down there, Spartan?"

"We've reached the cavern entrance and are proceeding into the tunnel system as planned."

"Copy that. Be advised, we're picking up scattered Covvie chatter. You could have two forces on your ass soon."

"Understood, Commander," Cortana replied, "We'll radio you when we have target lock. Cortana out."

The radio went silent without so much as a by your leave. Cortana rolled her eyes.

"At least they know we like our privacy. Ready?"

The Chief answered that by ducking beneath the low entrance to the cave. His eyes adjusted quickly; it was the same brown and beige stone from outside, just colder now that it was out of the sun. Water dripped somewhere ahead, and he tele-hailed on his flashlight. The sharp beams pierced the darkness, revealing a natural path that sloped downwards, and no signs of Promethean activity. Odd. He kept his rifle at the ready as he stepped into the dark.

"And, for the record?" Cortana said as they left the sunlight behind, "I'm not scared of the dark."

John let himself smile.

"Of course you're not."

With a pointed grumble she fell silent, her face vanishing from his HUD. The Chief continued to make his way forward, one eye on his path and the other on his motion tracker. The only sounds were those of his boots and water dripping down stone. It was quiet. Too quiet. He didn't like this. The Prometheans had been entrenched all along the ridge and the canyons, so where they now? He slowed to a stop at a junction in the cave system, helmet-lights shifting from dark hole to dark hole.

"How far does this go?"

"Kilometers in just about every direction," A soft scan flared out in front of him, his motion tracker wobbling for a moment. "Far as I can tell, this cave system is practically a hive. We could be wandering down here for days and still never get where we need to go."

Perfect. Consulting the objective marker on his HUD, the Chief went over his options. Either go down the most obvious route, the one that lead in the same general direction as his marker, or take a different path and hope it spat him out somewhere he could make a way forward. His lips pressed into a thin line.

"Hang on. Let me see if I can—" Cortana stopped mid-sentence.

"Cortana?"

"What—oh, sorry," The ice water feeling along his spine shifted, gathering itself together as she audibly shook herself off. "Thought I heard something. Let me just put this data together…there."

Another image popped up on his HUD, a white and blue wireframe overlay of the cave system. Three of the junction entrances flared red, one of them green. It was in line with the marker on his HUD, but that wasn't his concern at that moment in time.

"What did you hear?" She didn't answer him. "Cortana?"

"Static. Just static. You didn't hear it?"

John's heart stuttered a beat. "No."

"Oh. Well." She cleared her throat, "Well, what's odd about it is it's not UNSC or Covenant in origin. It's Forerunner."

"The Librarian?"

"Could be." She didn't sound very sure. If anything, she sounded worried. He could just picture the lines between her brows, her arms crossed as she considered the data before her, the downturned corners of her mouth. "Impossible to say for sure without more data."

"Can you track it?"

"Triangulating." A moment, then: "Same location as our target broadcast. Two guesses why that is."

"It's coming from the same source," the Chief said with a low growl. Voices in his head was one thing, hallucinations only he could see were another. He had heard the Didact during their first campaign on Requiem, a sensation of broken glass and churning gravel he would never truly forget. He could handle that. But for some Forerunner technology to be going after her? He wasn't going to let that stand. Setting a hurried but steady pace, the Chief headed down the tunnels. "Why couldn't I hear it?"

"I'm not sure. The armor should be picking up the same signals as my chip, so I don't understand it. How could the drones pick it up but not your…suit…" She trailed off, her voice growing distant as if something had caught her attention. His blood ran cold. "What is that?"

"Cortana."

He felt her jolt, a flash of ice down his spine, and her face appeared in his HUD. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Sorry. It's getting louder. We must be on the right track—keep this heading. I'll see what I can dig out of it."

She vanished from his HUD. Blood still chilled in his veins, the Chief kept walking. When he found the source of that signal, he was going to make it leave Cortana alone. She'd been through enough already. She didn't need voices inside her head, too.

The companionable silence shattered, the Chief continued to make his way forward through the tunnels. They continued to slope downward, water pooling in dips and crevices as it trickled down the walls in thicker and thicker rivulets the further he'd walked. By the time his global positioning data had him halfway to his target, he'd walked nearly a kilometer straight down. Much further and he was sure he'd hit the unnatural section of the tunnels, but it seemed that was where the signal was coming from.

Why build something so far underground? What had the Forerunners been trying to protect here? The questions ran circles around his brain as he took notice of the caverns beginning to open up, low ceilinged tunnels giving way to a wide chamber, a deep chasm splitting the open space in two. The Chief slowed his pace, scanning the area. It was too wide, and too dark, for his flashlight to fully pierce the black. If something came at him, he wouldn't see it until it was nearly on top of him. He consulted his waypoint and almost grimaced. It was across the chasm. Of course it was.

"I don't like this."

"That makes two of us…"

Carefully, the Chief made his way forward to the edge of the chasm. It was too dark to see all the way to the bottom, the beams of his helmet lights not strong enough to get that far. A look from side to side revealed that the chamber was massive; his footfalls echoed with each step he took. He had to cross the chasm somehow, but how? It stretched too far to simply leap across, and a look up told him the ceiling was too low for him to use his thrusters. He'd have to walk across, but how? He flagged his motion tracker. Where was the mapping adjustment Cortana had made? Ah. There.

Another scan-ping lit up the area directly in front of him, soft blue light rushing out across the stone. It mapped the edge of the chasm nearest to him, then ran over a stone bridge that reached across to the other side. There was his way across. He made his way forward.

"Chief, be careful," Cortana said as he stepped onto the bridge. It cracked ominously beneath his weight. "This thing looks very old. I'm not sure it can handle any sudden movements."

"It'll be fine," He said, though he was mindful of just where he put his boots down after a piece of the bridge crumbled away. "Don't look down."

"Funny. I was about to tell you the same thing."

Taking slow, measured steps, the Chief began to cross the bridge. Having to focus on where he put his feet down, he had to keep his head tilted towards the stone. Abyssal darkness stared back at him from either side of the bridge, his motion tracker utterly still. For a location so far into Promethean territory, it was oddly quiet. He didn't like it one bit.

A tremendous crack knocked him from his thoughts; he froze, barely daring to breathe. Had that been the bridge? Another crack was the only answer he got, the ground shifting beneath his feet. He looked down.

"Uh, Chief…"

Beneath his flashlight, cracks were forming on ancient stone. They raced across the bridge almost too fast to track, followed by blue light as Cortana lit them up. Branching pathways formed islands of stone, separate pieces hanging suspended for a few seconds as a steady middle finger to gravity.

In the end, gravity would have the last laugh. The Chief's stomach lurched up towards his throat as the stone beneath his boots began to fall away into the abyss below.

"Chief!"

There was no time to talk it over. Acting on pure instinct the Chief fired his thruster pack, pushing himself onto another chunk of stone, then another as that one fell away, too! One foot in front of the other, trusting in Cortana's glowing blue outlines for the next best step to take. The bridge was shattering behind him, cutting him off from escape that way; the only way was forward, one leap at a time until he got his boots firmly on solid ground, turning to watch the last piece of the ancient bridge fall down into the darkness. Cortana sighed shakily.

"So much for going back that way."

"We'll find another route," He reassured her, rolling his shoulders to shake off the adrenaline. He'd have survived the fall, had survived from higher, but there was something about falling into the endless darkness that set his nerves on edge. Stone shattered so very far below them, the pieces having hit bottom relatively quickly. He shook his head and turned, scanning this side of the chasm. Stone, stone, and more stone. A single tunnel entrance broke the monotony, and the Chief started walking again, following the waypoint further into the darkness.

It wasn't long before he had to stop again, headlamps pointed down a long, dark drop. Perfectly circular in nature there was no way it could be natural. That wasn't saying much on Requiem, but the thought still nagged at him. These caves had appeared natural enough, but this…this wasn't. He frowned at it.

"What was this?"

"Judging by the shape and depth, I'd say it used to be some kind of gravity well. I'm not picking up any power, though," Cortana hummed quietly, "It's still our only way to get closer to the source of that signal. Good thing you're not afraid of heights."

No. Just what might be waiting at the bottom. But it wasn't like he had any other options. They couldn't go back the way they'd come, and if it was the only path... The Chief locked his rifle to his rear mag-lock, rolling his shoulders.

"Hang on tight."

With a single firm push from the stone, he leapt into the darkness below.

[charrfie]

HEY YALL send me asks about anything at all if you wanna I feel like I'm not active enough on here and I miss interacting with my mutuals >:^[