#the switch between rust and crash is so neat to me

[ifyourereadingthisblinktwice]

episode 6 rust my beloved… (yes i know he’s technically not rust for the second half but goughg i lovveeee characters who have two completely different lives where they have to act as two different people and then those lives and people from each life begin to cross over and bleed into each other. undercover characters my beloved)

[nalgenewhore]

dearest one, my darling dear 

series masterlist, elide x lorcan, alternate canon au, word count: 3782

Iron claws whizzed, a mere centimetre from his face and Lorcan quickly snapped his head back, returning the blow with a swirling arc of his gleaming hatchet. 

The witch, with hair darker than a starless night, nimbly spun away, striking back once more with her nails and a dizzying flurry of kicks. 

They fought viciously in the make-shift training ring, icy mud slipping beneath them. Neither ceded ground, always fighting back, never giving in. His magic buzzed around him, but Lorcan didn’t touch it. 

Steel and iron screeched, paining his delicate ears, as Elide stopped his sword with her hand and twisted it from his grip. It was sent spinning away. She slashed with her other hand, easily ducking his hatchet. A snarl ripped from her throat as the tip of it grazed her cheekbone and Elide launched herself at Lorcan. 

Her arms encircled his middle and Lorcan fell down with a surprised grunt, his back crashed into the unforgiving ground. 

Elide gripped his wrist and slammed it down, forcing his hand to open. His axe skittered away and Elide quickly pinned his elbows down with her knees, her chest rising and falling erratically. Those iron fangs of hers glinted as she grinned triumphantly, “I win.” 

A large cry, mixed with outrage and elation, went through the crowd that had gathered. Lorcan saw the flash of coins being exchanged and smiled up at his wife, “Well done, witchling.” 

Her pale cheeks were marked with dark freckles and splattered with mud alike. The cut on her high cheekbone was already healing, tinged a pale blue as her skin stitched itself together. Elide cackled and retracted her teeth as she shoved off him and stood up, offering him a dirty hand. 

Lorcan groaned slightly as he accepted her hand and stood. He stooped to kiss her cheek, just over the cut, “Apologies, my heart.” 

She chuckled and collected his weapons, passing them to him. “I’m only surprised I let you get that close.” 

He jokingly held his hand to his heart, “Do you really think that lowly of my abilities?” 

Elide simply hummed and pulled him with her out of the ring, so that her witches could train. Lorcan loosed a low laugh and they dumped their outer garments in front of their vardo before they slipped off to the springs behind. 

Steam rose from the collection of pools. The witch pulled her loose undershirt from her body and stripped her leggings, leaving them both in a neat pile before she stepped into the hot water. A low, rasping groan slipped from her round lips and heated Lorcan’s blood. 

He joined her after leaving his mud-coated garments beside hers. Elide slowly floated over to his embrace and leaned back into his chest. Her head lazed back onto his shoulder when Lorcan wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder, his stubbled cheek fitting against Elide’s soft, smooth skin. 

Neither said a word as they washed their bodies and hair and relaxed, simply enjoying each other’s presence. 

Lorcan redonned his pants and tossed his shirt to his wife. Elide gratefully caught it and slipped it over her now-pliant body. It grazed her mid-thighs and Lorcan stared at the hem for longer than he cared to admit. 

Elide laughed and walked back to the carriage, her hips swishing from side to side. He sunk his pointed canines into his bottom lip to control himself and dutifully followed. She paused at the curve of the path and cocked her head to the side, “Taking our sweet time, are we?” 

In response, Lorcan sent a shadow of his power to pinch the curve of her ass and laughed darkly when she squeaked at the feeling, her cheeks tinged blue as she blushed. Before he could be reprimanded, Lorcan ran and picked her up, hauling her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. 

Elide yelped and slammed her fists against his back, “Put me down.” 

He didn’t listen and with his arm banded like a vice over the backs of her thighs, Elide couldn’t move unless she really wanted to. Honestly, she preferred this. It was far easier than walking. 

With his long legs and purposeful strides, Lorcan was setting her down on top step to the door in a few short moments.

Elide pushed the door open and walked in, going to their trunk to root through it for suitable clothes. Lorcan stepped in, having to duck his head and curl his broad shoulders to fit. She chuckled at the sight and stood up after he’d closed the door, sliding her hand up his chest as she rose onto the tips of her toes and kissed him. 

He hummed and slid his arm around her waist, dipping her slightly. “Don’t get distracted,” Lorcan murmured, his teeth grazing over her full bottom lip. “The gathering is tomorrow.” 

She pulled back, a brow arched, “You would go an entire day?” 

Shrugging, Lorcan tossed something behind her and grinned wickedly, “Wouldn’t you?” 

Her sly smile, phantom fangs glinting over her white teeth, told him enough. They stared at each other, lust and desire rolling beneath their skins, so close to snapping. Elide, who had always possessed far greater self-control, shoved a bundle of clothes into his hands, “You should tend to your blades.” 

Lorcan laughed quietly and kissed her cheek, “Of course. I’ve got to keep them sharp for the reunion.” 

Elide snorted and they both dressed efficiently, not wasting any more time. She would have to speak to her second and third today, reinforce the plan and make sure her witches would keep themselves in line. 

Lorcan was dressed first and left Elide on their bed, a mirror propped on one of the trunks as she did her braids. 

He sat on the steps and cleaned the mud and grime from his sword with a rag. Next to him, there was a bucket of water that he dipped his whetstone in. He dragged it over the edge, grinding down the nick left by his darling’s nails. 

Satisfied, he put it down and picked up his hatchet. Lorcan always got a little melancholy when he handled the weapon, thinking of its twin hanging from another male’s hip. 

It wasn’t often that Lorcan yearned for his old life. And no matter what, there was nothing that could convince him to trade it for the one he now lived. 

Shing went the stone as he put it to the edge. Oddly, the sound had always soothed him, having spent centuries in war camps. 

Shing. Shing. Shing.

His ears twitched and his nostrils flared delicately as he scented a group of people approaching.

Preternatural stillness settled over him and he glanced over his shoulder, still sensing Elide inside. 

The dark, death-blessed demi-fae looked up as three pairs of ungraceful feet thudded across the clearing of flattened grass. 

Their vardo was set separated from the others - to grant the clan matron and her lover privacy. 

Iskra Yellowlegs’ brutish face stared at him, that cruel sneer twisting her thin lips like always. “Half-breed.” 

Lorcan didn’t deign her with an answer. It took more than calling him a half-breed to anger him. Inside, he sensed his wife stiffen and her near noiseless footsteps stole over the carpets they laid over the wooden floorboards. 

“We come for Elide Blackbeak.” 

He rapped on the door with the blade of his hatchet, a subtle pattern that to the untrained, seemed like a normal knock. Idly, he summoned his dark power and let it play, seeping from him and dancing around. 

The three Yellowlegs muttered protective spells and he bit back his chuckle.

Shing. Shing. Shing.

The door opened and Lorcan felt Elide behind him. He didn’t shift, only flicking his eyes, planning an exit, keeping her as covered as he could. “Iskra Yellowlegs. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Elide ached to reach out to Lorcan, to touch his shoulder and have his powerful body beneath her ground her, but she controlled herself. He was her weakness, and everyone knew it. It would only make it worse. 

“Is that why you keep him around, Elide? To summon you like a good little mutt?” Iskra’s indelicate ignorance of Elide’s question didn’t go unnoticed. 

The Blackbeak witch bristled at the insult, her iron nails threatening to break through, but she let nothing show on her face. “Isn’t that all males are good for?” 

Elide stepped down to the stair Lorcan was sitting on and he looked side-long at her, promising to show her later what, exactly, males were good for .

Looking forward to it, Salvaterre.

“I come to remind you of the gathering tomorrow.” 

“Surely one of your underlings is good enough for that,” Elide responded. Before Iskra could answer, a smirk curled the corner of Elide’s lips, plush like a fresh piece of fruit and just as sweet. “Oh,” she practically purred, sliding her hand down Lorcan’s arm to take his hatchet and study the blade, “I forget how incompetent your witches are. My mistake.” 

Lorcan couldn’t help his laugh that time and lazily braced his corded forearms against his spread knees, his large, scar-flecked and bronzed hands loosely clasped between. 

Iskra glared at him and bared her teeth, which were rusted and cracked, “Does that animal of yours ever speak?” 

He carefully put on a face of blank unknowingness as the Yellowlegs heir switched to the common Ironteeth tongue. Lorcan looked at his wife, as if asking, Am I really that pretty to be taken for that stupid?

Her eyes glittered with mirth, Go on then, love. Answer her.

“When he wants to,” Lorcan spoke, his pronunciation immaculate. 

Their insipid, yellow tinged eyes widened and Elide made a dismissive motion with her hand. “The Blackbeak clan will be there. Run along now. My animal tires of your presence.”

The Yellowlegs were quick to scurry back to their broken-down camp. Elide sat down next to Lorcan and turned his face towards hers, “You’re alright?” Her eyes searched his face until he nodded and kissed her shortly. “Good,” she whispered. Elide pulled away and stood up, “I have to meet with Manon and Asterin.” 

“I’ll check the caravans and the horses.” 

They parted, each to their own duties. 

Neither saw the other for the rest of the day. Night was just beginning to fall when Elide’s meeting was finally over. The Yellowlegs’ visit had rattled them. There was no feasible reason for them to drop by for such a puny reminder. 

They had seen Lorcan, seen them still soft with intimacy, and seen how he spoke their language. 

Her heart fluttered anxiously and she retracted her nails and flicked them out, repeating the motion over and over. 

The moment she turned the corner, Elide saw a trail of smoke coming from their van’s iron stove. A small smile ghosted over her lips and she walked faster, still glancing around to check before she pushed through the door. 

Lorcan was sprawled on the soft floor, reading a book with a frown on his brow. 

“Hello, there,” Elide said softly. 

He looked at her and shared a grin as he rose to his feet. “Hello, witchling.” 

Elide hummed and melted when Lorcan slid his big arms around her waist and tucked her into his chest. She rested her cheek on his shoulder and whispered, kissing the side of his neck, “Did you make me dinner?” 

“Nah, I ate with the Thirteen and we saved you some.” 

“Oh, that’s nice,” she whispered, “let me get changed and we’ll eat?” 

“Yes, Lee,” Lorcan murmured, spinning her to their clothes trunk. He grabbed her a bowl and served her the richest of rabbit stews, sweet cornbread beside it and a mug of strong tea. 

He poured himself some tea, too, and splashed whiskey into both mugs. Elide padded over to the built in couch, wearing a pair of loose shorts and a wool sweater of his, her hair loose in a low bun. 

Lorcan passed her the bowl and the mug, sitting down next to her. He folded his leg between them and Elide moved so that her side was resting against his front and his thigh was behind her back. “How was your day?”

“Good,” he said, his chin on her head. “Everything’s packed and ready. Horses are feeding and sleeping. Brooms are protected.” 

“Oh, good. Thank you.” 

Lorcan kissed the top of her head, “My pleasure, Elide.” 

The matron ate quickly, until her stomach was warm and full. She took the last bit of cornbread and cleaned the remaining drippings, holding it to his lips. Lorcan accepted the bite and kissed the pad of her thumb. She smiled.

After, they drank their tea. Elide talked about her worries and they sat in a soft silence. Lorcan gently put their mugs away and carried Elide to bed. 

He settled her down, laying beside her to hold her to his chest. Elide whined in protest and turned to face him, her brow pressed into his chin. Her head was cradled by his bicep, her nose scrunched against the tattooed muscle. 

Lorcan’s blackened heart melted at the softness. That he was the only person she let see this… this peace of hers. He pressed a kiss to her brow and fell asleep, dreaming of nothing in particular.

They woke when the sun shined through the light curtains. Elide rose with a crackling spine, her arms stretched above her head with a satisfied groan.

She clambered over him and dressed in her blackest of leathers, her raven feather braided into her hair. Elide left him with a quick kiss, “Don’t sleep too late, we’ve got to go.” 

Lorcan cursed at her, his words muffled by the pillow, and told her to get off his dick. She laughed and flicked his ass on her way out.

“Devil witch!” 

“Devil fae,” she called back, closing the door and walking away.  Already, her witches were packing. Little wee witchlings ran about, holding their cloaks and laughing. Elide caught one and lifted her up, tossing her into the sky. She caught the toddler and carried her against her hip, holding another’s hand. “Come along, my babies. We’re going to a war council, whee!” 

The meeting didn’t run long and just as it ended, someone popped their head in, “Council? Everything is ready. Sun’s… mid morning.” 

Elide turned and smiled at her husband. His face softened when he saw the children and the walking child toddled over to him. Lorcan picked her up and bounced her, “Hello, there. Aren't we a wee ‘lil lassie.”

The babe giggled and clapped her hands, squealing when Lorcan tickled her toe. He laughed and cooed over her as he waited for the witches. 

Soon enough, they were riding. They’d decided to leave their camp and a young coven was left behind to guard. 

The gathering was to be held atop a plateau, golden grasses rustling around the flat of black granite. The Blackbeaks were the last clan to arrive and they arrived wordlessly. Elide glared at whoever dared to stare at Lorcan for longer than was necessary. 

They all quickly submitted under her violence-promised look and she smirked. Lorcan shook his head at her display of possessiveness and felt her claiming deep in his gut. 

He dismounted from his horse, Farasha, first. The black beast stomped her hooves, making them clatter against the hard rock, and huffed, her exhale turning into steam. Lorcan rubbed her nose and whispered something to her. Her eyes were still wild and rolled around to see everything, but she calmed slightly as her rider soothed her. 

Elide looked down at him from her own horse and her eyes sparkled when Lorcan offered her his hand and helped her down. 

No one could ignore the magnetism and energy roiling around them as Manon and Asterin flanked their matron. They walked in a diamond to the centre, other Yellowlegs and Bluebloods parting for them. Lorca walked at the back and his power manifested itself, curling around the second and third like smoke. 

It seeked out Elide, slinking around her hips like it wished to pull her back into her husband’s safety. A viper’s grin spread across Elide’s lips and she heard the heavy clinking over her love’s weaponry. 

The witches were not permitted to bring their weapons to gatherings, but Lorcan, as fae, was free to do as he liked. What he liked was to wear as many weapons conceivable. They were all ancient, like him, and the witches he passed could sense it deep in their bones. 

Elide stopped when she reached the rough circle that had been formed. Her iron fangs glinted in the hazy sun when she smiled, her eyes gleaming. “Good morning, Matrons.” 

That Yellowlegs hag spat back, “It’s far past morning , Blackbeak.” 

A look of mock surprise appeared on Elide’s face, “Oh, oh, no. Do forgive us. We’re terribly sorry.” 

The matron’s wrinkled face twisted in rage and she prepared to spew something nasty, but the ever-calm Blueblood matron cut in, her strawberry-blonde hair shining in its braids, “This is a peaceful gathering, Matrons. It matters not when the Blackbeaks arrived.” 

Elide smiled politely at Petrah. As babes, it had been fated that they would be rivals, as clan leaders, but the two of them had always understood each other on some basic level. They didn’t fight, both understanding they wanted for the same things. “Shall we begin then?” 

The other matrons nodded and though the Yellowlegs grumbled, they took their seats on the makeshift thrones they summoned. Elide was the only witch who summoned two, of equal size and vestige. She took Lorcan’s hand again as he escorted her to the seat and took his right next to her, silent. He propped his elbow against the armrest and leaned his chin on his fist, the tattoo on his left ring finger proudly shown. If one looked to Elide as she pulled her gloves off, they would see the matching marking on hers. 

Like always, Lorcan did not speak as the meeting went on. Iskra glared at him, anger and disgust in her eyes. Elide occasionally glanced at her, wondering when the day would come, the one where Iskra made one too many remarks on her husband and Elide would be allowed and even encouraged to respond with claws and fangs. 

Like the rest of her unorganised and undisciplined pack of weaklings, Iskra let her emotions fight for her and as a result, was sloppy. 

Elide would very much enjoy smashing her face into the ground. 

After a while, Elide reached out for his hand and slid her fine-boned fingers through his, her thumb stroking over the back of his hand. Quiet joy radiated from a strand of that death magic as it flitted over to her, like a butterfly. She watched as Petrah rapped the butt of her staff on the ground, “It is clear to us all that the Yellowlegs covens have been ignoring the treaty lines. Your witches are not allowed over the ruins of Morla. That is Blackbeak lands, and to the south of the forest, is Blueblood.” 

The Yellowlegs matron scowled and scoffed, “We are nomads. This land should not be bordered.” 

“It would not have to be,” Elide said drily, her snake-like eyes snapping to the matron, “if you could control your bitches. You signed the treaty, Matron. Your lands are to the north, and to the north only. That is the ruling.” 

For a short while, the Yellowlegs attempted to argue, but Elide and Petrah quickly finished it. There would be resentment and neither clan would be able to relax their guardings, but the Yellowlegs would not dare break their word. 

Manon leaned into Elide’s ear and whispered something low. Iskra studied them. Elide nodded, agreeing with her second’s strategy. The Thirteen would leave soon after, to prepare the camp and double their protections. They would employ Lorcan’s powers to shroud them. 

“It sure is a shame, Elide,” Iskra said, voice haughty. 

Her second slid back to her position and clasped her hands before her. Elide cocked her head to the side and Lorcan went eerily still. “And what, exactly, are you talking about?” 

The clan heir shrugged and stood up, casually scraping the dirt from beneath her fingernails with the tip of her dagger. “It’s a shame that you had to settle for that when you had Manon.” 

Lorcan’s hand tightened in hers, telling her to let it go, but Elide could not. 

A roar that shook the stones beneath them tore from her throat. Elide launched herself across the plateau and when she landed, the ground trembled. She relished the power that rushed through her legs. Faster than Iskra could react, Elide grabbed the back of her head and brought it down, smashing her knee into Iskra’s face. 

They heard the sickening crunk of the Yellowlegs’ nose. Iskra howled in pain and Elide used the distraction to twist the witch’s arm behind her and shoved her to the ground. 

Before Iskra could turn, Elide dug her knee into her back and wrenched her head up before slamming it back down into the rock. Iskra whimpered in pain and Elide leaned down, her metal teeth grazing the shell of Iskra’s ear, “If you speak about my husband again, if you dare even look at him, I will skin you alive and wear your piss-coloured pelt as a cloak.” She slid her hand down to the back of Iskra’s neck and dug her nails into the skin, blue blood slipping down. “Is that understood?” 

Iskra nodded and Elide shoved off her. 

She didn’t look back at the witch as she peeled herself off the ground and walked back to Lorcan. Pride shone on his face and his eyes stormed with a mixture of carnal hunger. Elide stalked towards him and fit herself between his legs. She gripped his throat, her sharp nails digging into his sensitive skin, and pushed his head back. 

The kiss she pressed to his full lips was biting and claiming, marking him. Lorcan gave into her command, his hands ghosting over the backs of her thighs, searing even through her leathers. 

Elide pulled herself away, their lips reddened and love-bitten. I love you .

Forever and always . 

She sat down in her seat and regarded the others, daring them to comment. 

As they sat, it was almost too difficult to look at them, to look at the full-force of their love. 

They were Death incarnate and love triumphant. 

A goddess and her consort, put on this earth to roam for eternity, always together, forever home.

☽ ☼ ☾

an: we deserve clan matron!elide n house hubby!lorcan. 

@mythicaitt​ @werewolffprince​ @schmlip-scribble​ ​ @the-regal-warrior​ @ladyverena​ @ttakeitbacknoww​ @shyvioletcat​ @alifletcher2012​ @tswaney17​ @ourbooksuniverse​  @flora-and-fae​ @thesirenwashere​ @queenofxhearts​ @maastrash​ @mynewdreamwasyou​ @cursebreaker29​ @empress-ofbloodshed​ @b00kworm​ @hizqueen4life​ @silversprings98​ @amren-courtofdreams​ @minaidss​ @superspiritfestival​ @sanakapoor​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @spyofthenightcourt​  @thegoddessofyou​ @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx​ @claralady​ @neonhellas​ @darlinminds​ @readingismyonlyhobby​ @autophobiaxx​ @silversprings28​ @myshadowsingeraz​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @elriel4life​ @always-in-a-daydream​ @jlinez​ @ladywitchling​ @mariamuses @darklesmylove

[spideyspoods]

Foolproof (FFH Spoilers!)

Pairing: Peter Parker X F!Reader

A/N: Here is the finished product! Thank y’all so much for all the love on the sneak peek :”)

Warnings: FFH Spoilers! Some cursing and depictions of action sequences. Word Count: 4k (sorry)

Masterlist!

Peter tapped his pencil rapidly against the surface of the wooden desk. “I got it!” he exclaimed loudly enough to catch the attention of essentially everyone in the art room. Ned jolted in his seat, trying to see what his best friend had written. “Okay I think I have a plan to get Y/N to like me!” Peter whispered. For months, he had been completely enamored by her. It was hard to not see her, seeing as if she’s class president after all. It seemed like she could do anything, and he didn’t doubt it for a second. They had talked a few times, but not as much as he had hoped. “There are five steps-”

“Dude. I support you, I really do, but shouldn’t this all happen naturally?” Peter raised an eyebrow and sat a little bit straighter, “You don’t understand, I have to follow this step by step! It’s pretty much foolproof!”

“Peter, nothing is foolproof.” Before he could talk back, he spotted Y/N walking their direction and tucked the paper that held his master plan into the side pocket of his backpack. With the same sunny smile he adored, she stepped up and waved. “Are you guys excited for tomorrow?” Knowing that Peter would be tongue-tied, Ned answered for him. “You know it! Peter over here is,” uh oh “thinking of a perfect souvenir to bring back to May.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet!” The bell rang, and Peter practically bolted out of his chair, slinging his backpack onto his shoulders. Y/N turned, “Well I’ll see you tomorrow!” With a quick wave, Peter could feel his cheeks burn. “Oh wait, Peter! You dropped this!” His eyes widened at the sheet of paper she held in her hand. “My bad! Sorry about that.” He reached to grab it, accidentally brushing her fingers.

“It’s all good. That the infamous souvenir list?” she spoke with air quotes.

“Um yeah, it is.”

“Let me know which ones are the best, I’ll have to get some for myself.” She winked and walked to her next class, leaving Peter alone with his thoughts.

Step One: Talk to Her

Y/N stood at her locker, pulling out the notebook she needed for her next class. Peter watched her from across the hall. Despite MJ’s protest calling it, “creepy” and that “she’ll probably think you’re a stalker,” he took deep breaths and put his hands in his pocket, clearing his throat. “Hey, Y/N!” but it wasn’t coming from him. A tall guy with black hair and charming smile waved at her before Peter could. Brad Davis. From what he’s heard, Brad seemed like a fairly nice guy, but he was everything Peter wasn’t. Brad was popular, one of the star players on the basketball team; someone who was invited to every party every weekend. He had something to offer Y/N and Peter knew he couldn’t ever beat that. The nervous tight-lipped smile on his face morphed into a frown as Y/N laughed at something he had said. The bell rung and the crowds thinned out. Maybe this was harder than it looked.

Step Two: Spend Time With Her

“How’s it going on the Y/N front?” May questioned, leaning against his door frame. Peter merely huffed, throwing things into his suitcase. “Could be better.”

“What happened?”

“I just can’t do it, May!” he exclaimed, “I really like her, but I don’t think I even have the chance to talk! I tried to today, but nothing happened! Not to mention that Brad’s been getting close to her.”

May frowned, “Well you just have to show her that Peter Parker charm! You’re the Spider-Man! You’ve done scarier things before!” He couldn’t help but laugh, May had a way of doing that. She was right after all, though he didn’t want to admit it. “I can do this.”

“Damn right you can!”

--

At the airport, everyone filed into a neat line waiting for the security check. Y/N was way ahead of him, towards the front chatting with Betty. Looking back to an unamused MJ and a smirking Ned, Peter proposed the next part of his plan. “Okay so here’s what’s going to happen-.”

Once they started boarding, students dashed to claim seats near their best friends. Peter & Ned took seats next to each other, while Y/N sat between Betty & MJ. “Okay, remember the plan?” Ned smiled, throwing a thumbs up before stepping into the aisles. “Hey, is it okay if Peter switches with one of you?” Peter watched from behind, pretending to look busy. “Why?”

“There’s this lady next to him with a seriously strong perfume and he’s kind of allergic-” before he could finish, Y/N stood up. “Here, he can take my seat.” Ned’s eyes widened, and he shook his head, “Uh no! You can’t!” This wasn’t the plan! The girl looked at him confused, “Why not?”

“Did I hear allergy?” Mr. Harrington exclaimed. Betty raised her hand, “Yeah, Peter has a perfume allergy.” The teacher’s eyes bulged out of his head. He started to shake, and stopped what he was doing; letting a carry on fall to the aisle. “Oh no. Not again. We’ll need to take some drastic measures let’s see,” he tried resolving the solution in his head, “Ned switch with MJ, Daniel take Peter’s spot.” The teacher looked at Y/N.

 “Mr. Harrington I have a spot over here if that’ll work,” said Brad as he pointed to an aisle seat right next to him. Peter pinched himself and huffed.

“That’s perfect! Great thinking, Brad. Y/N take that seat over there. Parker, you’re coming with me.” Defeated, Peter tentatively took the seat between the two teachers. As the one on his right started to drone about his love life, he saw Brad & Y/N two rows over. Peter tried to sleep, to get her off his mind but failed; seeing her head on his shoulder.

--

During their peaceful stroll in Venice, Peter peered into a souvenir shop. What Ned had told her the other day wasn’t entirely fake. It wasn’t for May, all she wanted was for the two to get together, but it was for none other than Y/N.

 He looked closer into a display case that held delicate necklaces, accented with Murano glass. His eyes were drawn to a three small, deep red beads strung on a black thread. After attempting to speak Italian, which didn’t go as smoothly as he wanted, he bought it and carried it in the small bag. Turning to the exit, his shoulder crashed into someone’s forearm.

“Oh! Sorry about that, Peter!” Shit. Y/N gave him her classic smile, before pointing towards the bag. “Looks like you went souvenir shopping without me.” Should I give it to her now? He thought, contemplating his choices. No. Well, yes? Peter, stop talking to yourself! She’ll think it’s weird-

“Peter, you okay there?”

“Um,” here goes nothing “actually-” he felt a chill down his spine and rushed outside to see a giant figure that seemed to be made out of water? Running to the canals, he saw Ned and Betty trapped with no escape. Quickly, he pulled them out and made his best friend face him. “Ned I’m going to need you to bring everyone inside and away from the canals! I can’t have anyone seeing who I am.” Nodding, he gestured everyone to follow while Peter started to fight.

--

Y/N was utterly baffled and took people into safety.  “Has anyone seen Peter?”

“Who cares about Peter? We’re all about to die!” Flash shrieked, holding out his phone with a shaky hand to show all of his five viewers on the stream. With a surge of confidence, she swung the creaky door open to face the water monster. “Come at me!” Immediately, she regret saying that. It seemed to bubble up and shove a wave in her direction. Without thinking, she picked up a wooden oar and threw it. Great move, L/N. She was thrown against the stucco wall, gasping for air. “Damn it.” Needless to say it hurt...a lot.

“Y/N!” Brad picked her up and sat her down in the hotel lobby. “Are you okay?”

“Well for being thrown into a wall by a mini tsunami,” she grimaced “I’m feeling pretty great.” He chuckled. “I didn’t know you were a doctor, Davis.”

“I picked up a few things here and there. Sometimes TV shows are more helpful than they seem.”

“Tell me about it. I probably don’t know how to pay taxes, but I know how to make a killer baked alaska.” There was a brief silence before he spoke again, “Looks like your back took it hard. Is it okay if I check?” Y/N nodded, lifting her shirt up enough for him to see the hues of purple and blue.

Ned sighed, opening the lobby door and looked upon something that he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to see. Y/N’s shirt was only somewhat on, Brad’s hands on her back. He gasped and bolted out, only stopping to see MJ block his path. “What’s going on?”

“Brad and Y/N! They’re-,” he frowned “I need to get some air.” MJ rolled her eyes and peered through the glass.

--

“Nothing life-threatening, I’ll go get some ice real quick.” Her clothes were still very much soaked, and at this point she was shivering. Brad quirked a brow and without hesitation took off his beige hoodie before handing to her with a dazzling smile. “You can use this for now.”

“Thanks.” He did a small salute before heading upstairs to the ice machine. Pulling the hoodie over her head, the first thing she saw was MJ.

“I’d know that look anywhere, something the matter?” she pulled up a chair. 

“You and Brad seem to be getting close there.”

“He’s just doing the right thing. Besides, we’re just friends.” she shrugged.

“Riiiiight. Just friends, my ass.”

“Would I ever lie to you?”

“No, but you might start now-”

“We survived!” yelled Flash. Behind him, the rest of the class gathered around the TV screen to rewatch the battle. The rusted welcome bell dinged, bringing her attention to the door.  “Peter where were you?” He looked tired and out of breath, but kept his spirits up anyways. “I got caught up with the others, yeah.” He hoped that was convincing enough. “Good to know you’re all in one piece, Parker.” Brad emerged from the hallway with the bag of ice and handed it to Y/N. Peter’s eyes shot down to her clothes, she definitely wasn’t wearing that before. It all clicked into place when he realized whose it was.

The TV showed clips and commentary of the disaster that happened not even an hour ago. “Looks like they’re calling him Mysterio, man of mystery in Italian.” Flash scoffed, “Yeah, but he’s no Spider-Man.”

“What is it with you and Spider-Man?” Thinking that no one would notice, Ned exaggeratedly winked at Peter, who smirked.

“He’s a great role model and has helped me become a better person.” Flash turned around and saw Peter with his arms crossed, “’Sup, dickwad.”

Step Three: Show Her How Much You Care

After a slight detour, the class made a quick change of plans and embarked on a road trip to Prague. The entire trip, Peter searched for a Plan B, now that Paris was out of the picture. In a small town square, the charter bus came to one last pit stop. Dimitri, the ominous driver, directed him towards a shop where an agent waited for him. After some explaining, it seemed that she simply made him a new suit to try on. To say that he was uncomfortable was an understatement. He slowly took off his pants to hear a door open. “Oh my god!” Brad recoiled, and Peter felt his heart drop. Out of all the people. “I thought this was the bathroom-”

“It’s not what it looks like, I promise!” He hurriedly snapped a photo and left as fast as he could. Frantically, Peter put his clothes back on and caught up. “Wait! I promise what you saw wasn’t what you thought you saw.”

“Hey if you want to hook up with hot European girls on this trip, it’s not my business.”

“That’s not what was happening!”

“Look, Peter. I know you like Y/N and I do too, but she deserves to know the truth.” He tucks the phone into his pocket before going to the actual restroom. Frustrated, Peter puts his head in his hands. Of course Brad liked Y/N; he obviously knew why. She was ridiculously smart and one of the most confident people he had ever known. He thought about giving up on the plan he had so desperately wanted to use. He could hear May nagging at him in the back of his head. Maybe- just maybe -for one night; he’d be able to set it aside.

--

“So due to safety precautions and a generous donor, we won’t be going to the light festival! We’ll be watching a riveting opera instead!” said Mr. Harrington, desperately trying to keep his job. A collective groan of protest echoed through the marble floors of the upscale hotel. “Well I think that this is a great idea to experience the cultural roots of what this city has to offer.” Ned spoke, to which the frazzled teacher gave him a relieved look. “See? Thank you, Ned. Aren’t you glad we made you pack a formal outfit? We’ll look ravishing for a whole four hours!”

“Four hours?”

Mr. Dell made it very obvious that it wasn’t his idea. He didn’t even know why he was here himself, if he was being honest. The teachers looked at the grand clock on the wall, “Looks like we’ll meet back here in thirty minutes!”

--

The opera house was empty aside from the four couples in the balcony seat. “Looks like we beat the rush, am I right?” Y/N’s classmates picked the orchestra seats and wished with all their heart that they were partying instead. Peter stood back, hands in his pockets waiting for an opening to leave and get in position. “Hey there, stranger. You look good.” He turned to his right to see Y/N looking at him. He wore a simple black tux and his white dress shirt looked a little crumpled. His heart practically stopped at the sight of her. Her dress was the exact same shade as the bold, red necklace he had got her. The same eyes he had fawned over dazzled as he noticed the small smirk on her face. “Thank you,” he coughed “you look really pretty.”

“Thanks, Parker. I haven’t caught up with you in a while, do you want to sit together?” This was his chance.

“Parker, are you in position?” Fury whispered in his ear. Not again.

“No.”

“Oh,” Y/N was taken aback and he wished that he didn’t see the hurt in her eyes “that’s fine. I’ll just-”

“Wait! I meant yes!”

“You just said no, didn’t you?”

“No! Well, yes.” He was digging himself into a deeper hole by the second, “I’ll meet you there in a second. Save my spot?”

“Don’t be late.” 

Ned and Betty picked up golden opera glasses as Peter turned to tap Ned’s shoulder. “I have to go. Tell Y/N I’m sorry, I just didn’t feel good.” He sighed, hating to be the messenger. “Okay, but you owe her. Stay safe, alright?” He nodded and caught a glimpse of Brad taking the seat next to her. Not so subtly, he flipped him off. Peter was ready to run down the aisles, but Fury protested yet again.

--

Peter was without a doubt hiding something, she just didn’t know what. As the orchestra started tuning, she saw MJ slip out of her seat. At first, she thought nothing of it until Ned & Betty did the same. Something urged her to follow and she found herself wandering the cobble pathways. After a few minutes, she was met with flames that flickered and danced as chaos erupted once again. 

It wasn’t long until she heard someone she knew all too well.

“Tell everyone to get back inside!” The voice coming from a guy dressed in all black, flipping through the sky. At once, all the pieces clicked together.

Step Four: Admit How You Feel

Peter was absolutely not okay. He’s seen better days, and definitely better encounters with her. How could he complete the plan if it never started in the first place? His head hung low as he exited the elevators in the hotel, looking for Ned’s room.

--

Y/N heard three sharp knocks on her door, but she didn’t remember asking for room service. “Peter? What are you doing here?” She took notice of the cut on his hand.

“Oh, I thought this was Ned’s room. I’ll go-”

“No wait, I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about this whole,” she waved her hands around “situation. Where did you go earlier?” Y/N questioned, although she knew exactly where he went earlier. He frowned and fumbled with the watch on his wrist, “Is it okay if we talk about this outside?”

There was an awkward silence between them as they decided that a bridge near the hotel would be a good place. “Peter, are you alright? You’ve been acting a little strange the entire trip. If you want to talk about it with someone, I’m all ears.” She smoothed out her skirt as she sat on the ledge, fiddling with a bracelet.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be? You’re Spider-Man and the world needs saving. I can’t blame you for doing your job.” His brain short-circuited once again. She knows. Of course she knows.

“Woah, I’m not Spider-Man! Wh-where’d you get that from? That’s crazy and it makes no sense at all!” With a newfound confidence, Y/N got back onto her feet, “It makes perfect sense. That’s why we’re outside where no one can hear you admit it. Plus, you made it kind of obvious. Subtly is not your strong suit, Parker.” Oh if only she knew.

“But I meant to tell you something different-” The door swung open to reveal MJ looking upon the duo only a few steps apart. “Peter we found something from the battle- am I interrupting something?” The boy looked between both of them before shaking his head, “It’s fine, she knows.”

--

“Relax, he’ll be fine. Just breathe.” MJ sat on the bed, watching Y/N look out the window where Peter just slipped out of. With sheer panic in her eyes, she faced her friend. “How do you know? If what we’ve encountered are just holograms, imagine what the real deal would be like! He’s just a kid.” Y/N exclaimed. Typically, she would be able to keep an open mind, but it seemed that chaos took a big jab to her lungs, leaving her out of breath. Peter, someone she knew, was going to single handedly fight some sort of evil villain. “Y/N take a deep breath. If he sees you stressed out like this-”

“That’s a big if.”

“I’m just saying, he’s done this before. It’ll all work out. Now, you’re a little worked up about this more than we are.” Defeated, Y/N sprawls on the bed.

 “It’s because I care about him, okay?” she blurted out, before backtracking. “As a friend! I care about him as a friend!”

“You’re both helpless. Get some sleep, we’re headed to London tomorrow and I don’t want to see the cranky side of you.”

“Love you too, MJ.” the door shut as Y/N closed her eyes, seeking for answers in her dreams.

Step Five: Kiss Her- If She’s Okay With That

Radio silence. She’s heard absolutely nothing from Peter, which only made matters worse. Y/N found herself worrying about his well being even more, finally coming to terms with how she felt. The class piled onto a double decker bus, slowly rolling towards the Tower Bridge. Not long after, ominous clouds rolled in, as she looked back to Ned and MJ, the only other people that knew of his secret. “Is this what I think it is?” A monster, the Elemental Fusion, loomed over the city and roared loud enough to send chills down everyone’s spine. “It’s not real, it’s not real.” Ned whispered to himself, staring in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me? That’s as real as a demon gets! Flash mob, are you seeing this?” He points his phone, yet again. Mr. Harrington motioned for the students to follow him, “Come on, let’s get out of here!” The fusion sent an explosion hurling towards their pack. Y/N ran faster, barely missing the fire. She didn’t care where she was going, as long as it was far away. A man in a crisp suit and a distressed expression stopped them. “Y/N, Ned, MJ! I work with Spider-Man-”

“You work for Spider-Man?!” Flash interrupted, obviously pissing him off even further.

“I work with Spider-Man, not for Spider-Man! Follow me!” He stumbled, and headed for a sleek jet right as a ball of fire caused it to shatter into flaming shards. 

“Backup plan!” The Elemental Fusion disappeared, revealing itself to be a horde of drones. Dangerous drones. Four of them started to zoom in their direction. Shit.

 The man led them into the Crown Jewels room, deeming it safe. As they ran for cover, a white drone followed them inside. MJ started eyeing a mace, carefully plucking it out of the knight’s hand. It screeched, drawing the attention towards her. Quickly, Betty knocked over a statue, where the drone unleashed its fury upon it before powering down after MJ’s swift hit. “Badass,” Y/N stated. Right when they thought it was all over, one more crashed through the windows; aiming straight for them. The man closed the door as everyone caught their breath inside.

Bullet after bullet, the wooden door grew weak. “I spent my entire life playing video games and now we’re about to die!” Ned confessed, clutching Betty’s hand who spoke up next. “I have a fake ID! But I never even used it!” MJ followed suit, holding onto the mace for her life. “I have the need to tell the truth even if it hurts people!” Flash put his phone down for once and yelled in despair, “I only make these useless livestreams for likes and clout!”

“I’m in love with Spider-Man’s Aunt!” The man gasped, with his eyes closed. Y/N’s heart pounded and she confessed without hesitation, “I have a crush on Peter and I never got to tell him!” Ned squealed a shrill ‘yes’ as the door split in half. Grabbing a sword from the ground, Y/N prepared to fight. 

In an instant, the drone powered down and clattered to the floor. With a skeptic look, she carefully left the room and saw the rest of the machines do the exact same.

--

“Peter?” she yelled, crossing the bridge littered in rubble. She saw a blur of red and black, standing amongst the ruins. She ran, pulling him in for a hug. “Y/N you’re okay, thank god.” he panted. 

She pulled back realizing just how badly he got hurt. His knuckles were bruised and a cut slashed through his cheek. She placed her hands on his shoulders and Peter’s knees grew weak, possibly from her and the fatigue. He managed to pull out a small drawstring bag, tugging it open. “Y/N I had this whole plan to get closer to you on this trip, and one of the steps involved giving you this when the time was right but it never happened.” He carefully took the chain into his hand, showing her the necklace however one of the beads were shattered. 

“Oh no, Y/N I’m so sorry it must have-”

“Peter, it’s okay. It’s beautiful.” Y/N took a closer look. She felt touched, no one had ever done such a thing for her. 

“Can you help me put it on, please?” She turned around as he clasped it around her neck. “Thank you, again.” Peter studied her face, vision darting between her lips and eyes. With a smile, she cupped his cheeks, taking him in for a soft kiss. Both of their hearts raced, the sensation getting the best of themselves. It felt good.

It felt right.

Peter pulled away, a rosy tint to his face. He reached for her hands, “Wait so you like me? I thought you were with Brad.”

She chuckled, “He’s just a friend, but he stands no chance against you. Besides, you’re not the only one who can keep a secret, Peter Parker.” she nudged his shoulder. He was a little dazed, and stood a bit straighter. “Well I should probably fix this all up.” He bent down to get his mask, pulling it over his face.

“I’ll be waiting for you.” She waved goodbye and joined the rest of her friends. Y/N looked back and swore she saw him high five himself in glee.

What a dork, she thought with a lovesick grin.

--

Thank you for reading! Hopefully it was alright! Feedback is appreciated, but not required! My taglist is open and so are my requests! :)

Taglist: @parkeret @savedbystark @harrysbbby @cutiepiemimi13 @leelee--thebaek @softrdj @happylittlesuns @lovertony @anolddayslover @astromilku @ninja-boss-barbie

Those who reblogged:  @asonofpeter7  @wayfaring----stranger @lettersandwhiteroses @thecreatorofthingsandstuffs @agentsofshield2013 

[valldoesdnd]

-- Weird War D&D: Chapter 1 --

So I’ve decided to start compiling my party’s adventures into a collection of book chapters, mainly for the ease of me recalling information and their history, but also because so many of you seemed to like my hastily written “Cthulhu vs Airship” scenario. So, just like before, this will likely be a long post, as I’ll be writing a chapter or so at a time when the urge hits me to do so. So for those that stick with it, I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 1: Deliveries.

+++ On board The Lightskipper, Western Elera +++

A thunderous boom roused Cie from her hammock below deck. Clambering out awkwardly, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and glanced out the porthole window. Waves lapped at the hull, spraying fine sea mist that blurred the view of her surroundings. Looking away from the window, she stretched; instinctively checking above her bunk for the bolt rifle while feeling around underneath her for boots and a clean change of clothes.

Cie Faith hadn’t been with this group long, nor had she really spent much time out in the world herself. Looking around at the cold, metal interior of her room, she began to wonder why she bothered in the first place. They’d taken this job as easy money. Most of the time, working for the Eleran government was, especially with the cold war between it and the southern continent of Arella. And whilst she knew that Eleran military vessels weren’t the most accommodating of ships, she’d at least expected a light in the small, six foot square she’d been assigned to. She wiped the condensation from the window and let the natural light fill the room, coating the rusted tiles on the floor and bathing the empty, grey walls with some semblance of warmth.

Combing out the morning lugs in her white hair and letting it fall naturally to sit just above her shoulders, she zipped up the grey flight jacket and jammed her feet unceremoniously into a pair of battered leather boots. A low, confused voice rumbled from the room opposite, the language clear and concise, even through the closed metal door:

“Cie! Are you awake? What was that sound? Should I, er, be getting up?”

Cie sighed, shouldering the bolt rifle and hooking a pouch full of mystical ingredients to her belt.

“Probably just a training exercise Carbo! Nothing to worry about. We’ve been on this floating bucket for at least three days already. I would’ve thought you’d be used to them by now to be honest.”

Her words were met with a muttered, resonate grumbling before another loud boom rocked the cabin a little more than usual, drowning out his retort. Glancing out at the waters reflection, she spotted a glint of gunfire, followed by telltale blinding flashes of magical energy. Without skipping a beat, she checked her gear one last time, grabbed the worn, metallic flight goggles hanging on the door frame and wrenched the hatch open.

+++ The Empty Expanse. ½ Mile West from The Lightskipper. +++

“Nice shot Aurora! Keep focusing fire on the bridge!”

Thunders engines screamed as Vincent slammed the throttle open, banking the old D-Grade aircraft into a sharp, declining tailspin as the flak cannons from the gigantic C-Grade slave ship opened up in response to the group’s harrying attacks. Dipping low beneath the exploding shrapnel, Vincent pulled up, the cowling ripping off in a shower of sparks as Thunder skimmed the surface of the ocean and began to bank upward. For any normal pilot, the move would have been suicide, but Vincent Mcgraw was far from normal. Continuing his upward thrust, he took careful aim and squeezed the trigger for the quintuple auto-cannons mounted along the crafts dual wings. In a roar of deafening fury the barrels opened up, tearing a deep gash in the underbelly of the vast airship above. The metal groaned, holding for a brief moment before bleeding ammunition, fuel and stolen cargo into the churning waves thousands of feet below. Seeing her opportunity, Songbird streaked towards the cut; the normally quiet, shy pixie at its controls shouting in excitement as she unleashed a torrent of magical missiles directly into the open wound. Fiery eruptions filled the sky as the falling ammunition began cooking off under the intense magical fire, sending a ripple of explosions bursting across the airship's deck, followed shortly by the delighted cries of Aurora, as she tore a neat, molten hole through the C-Grades inner levels, unfurling Songbirds mechanical wings to regain control of the bucking aircraft on her exit.

“Easy! That thing’s still got teeth!” Nomad shouted over the din, turning sharply to avoid another D-Grade craft, much like his own, that hurtled towards the large aircraft carrier below, sporting defaced markings of the Eleran Military. He banked around, taking his time through the advanced marksmen sights and sonar equipment hooked up on the interior of the cramped vessel to find his target. Barrelling out of sights of a turret shifting in his direction, he felt the judder of the rotary cannon beneath him light up, bisecting a group of slavers on the deck and sending the others running for cover before pulling away and preparing another strafing run.   Looking below him, Vincent saw the falling D-Grade impact the ships surface, erupting into a fireball before scattering debris across its deck. They might have been slavers, but by the look of their tactics, it didn’t look like their enemies wanted them captured. Another aircraft tumbled past, it’s wings stripped and it’s cockpit filled with makeshift explosives as Vincent fought to keep Thunder away from the turret mounted flak cannons still operational on the burning, metal dirigible. He reached over with a single gloved hand and flipped a switch on his console, feeling the mechanical click of the triggers realigning to their new weapon systems. Banking down toward the plummeting home-made missile, he pulled the trigger, showering the back end of it in a flurry of explosive shrapnel rounds from the twin miniature flak cannons he’d had installed. The missile detonated in a fiery conflagration before depositing its debris harmlessly into the ocean below. With a grin, Vincent released the throttle, giving his old friend a brief respite before jamming it open and sending her screeching back into the fray.

+++ On board The Lightskipper, Western Elera +++

“What in hell is going on out here?” Shouted an irritated Cie as she stormed toward the upper deck of the repurposed aircraft carrier The Lightskipper.

“I thought we weren’t expecting any heavy resistance on this job?”

She began to push open the hatch to the upper levels as the clanging of metal on metal preceded Carbos arrival. Clad in his typical reddish robes and steel plates, the construct was a stark contrast to the very human Cie, clad in her leather armour and duster jacket. He held at his side a heavy, menacing looking greataxe, and his expression was one of concern and confusion, difficult to read as it was. His form was lithe and thin, constructed from metallic fibres that weaved into each other like muscle, and his face was a blank slate, devoid of any features, eyes or mouth. As he spoke, his voice, though resonating and deep, was soft and calm, like that of an older gentlemen, though the sounds themselves appeared to resonate from the metal itself, rather than a single source.

“I’m not entirely sure. I suppose I expected something, considering they wanted us to escort them, but I didn’t expect much more than a few rogue Freerider fighters, or something similar.” He braced himself as the ship lurched again. “This certainly feels a little heavier hitting, however.”

Cie looked back to Carbo and continued to force the heavy hatch open. She grown to like the strange mechanical man over the past six months they’d worked together, finding his quick reflexes and underestimated strength very useful on many occasions, though his rash and often unpredictable tendencies did lead her to give him a wide berth during combat scenarios. A single, almost skeletal hand placed itself on the hatch and, with the metal squealing in protest, Carbo pushed the hatch open.

“Thank you Carbo. I’m surprised this carrier is still sea-worthy”. Cie smiled before continuing up the steps to the hanger.

“I hope Vorfen is airborne.” She said, her heels clanging on the metal deck as she strode across to check on Echo. The small, E-Grade one man craft sat tethered in the corner of the hanger; it’s mechanical bat-like wings folded down by its side and the magical lodestone engine bathing the interior in an arcane glow. She staggered slightly as the ship shuddered from another impact, lighter this time. Catching herself and glancing out the open bay doors of the hanger, she saw a shower of flaming debris crash into the ocean, a good six hundred or so feet away as Thunder caught the water briefly in the wake of the explosion before accelerating rapidly up and out of sight again.  

“I’m sure he will be. It takes some time for that ship of his to get airborne, but once it’s up there, I’m sure the fight will tip in our favor.” Carbo replied, striding past Cie to check on Alloy, his own D-Grade aircraft. The fighter was a standard Eleran design, with a single Skytrol engine working its way through most of the interior of the craft, ending in a large, angular propeller that rolled lazily back and forth with the rocking of the ship. He climbed expertly atop the grey wings and began clearing some debris that had landed on the window of the cockpit.

“Though I certainly think we need to really be thinking about ourselves first.”

Expecting a response, but receiving only the sounds of gunfire in the distance and echoing clangs of debris hitting the ship, he turned, looking to the direction of Echo before quickly diving off Alloys wing, moments before the small, silent aircraft unfurled its wings and darted out of the hanger, leaving a trail of translucent, arcane vapor in it’s wake.

“Right. Well then, I..er..” He muttered, pulling himself up and looking around for any sign of life, but finding none. The Lightskipper had nothing but a skeleton crew to begin with, and, with the sounds of gunfights beginning to rage across the ships main deck, it explained why no crewmen were around to assist them. Carbo looked across Alloy sheepishly for a moment, spotting figures running across the hanger towards him. As he raised a hand in greeting, it was met with a hail of machine gun fire; the bullets clanging off Alloy’s hull and whizzing across Carbos head with malicious excitement. He stumbled over a loose toolbox and collapsed into cover, his greataxe sliding out of its sheath as he did so. Staying his hand and placing the shouts between the four men taking up flanking positions nearby, the ringing across the hanger petered out as each found themselves devoid of ammunition. The lead gunman, a man thick with muscle and clad in multi-plated leather armour stepped forward, dropping the empty firearm to the ground with a resounding clatter.

“Right-o boys! They ain’t gettin’ no more birds of the ground now! This ship is ours!” He grinned, hopping over a set of crates and walking over to the battered D-Grade, turning to his men with arms outstretched.

“And this ‘ere will make a fine addition to our arsen’l. Get ready to break her down for parts lads!”

The three men, all clad in the similar, bulky armour, began walking over towards Alloy, laughing among themselves and reloading their weapons as they went. Suddenly, a gutteral, wet retching caught their ears, as their laughter was swiftly replaced by shouts of panic.

Stepping over the twitching, bisected body of their captain, Carbo shouldered the bloodied greataxe and moved toward the group, who were hastily bringing their weapons to bear. As a shot rang out across the hanger, narrowly missing the lithe, black construct, Carbo let the blade of the greataxe clang on the metallic floor, emitting a shower of sparks as he dragged it very quickly toward them.

“Now that was just rude.”

+++ The Empty Expanse. 1000ft West from The Lightskipper. +++

Vorfen wasn’t a talkative fellow. Rarely did he find time or reason to speak more than a few words, choosing instead to let his C-Grade airship, or dear friend Aurora, do the talking for him. He felt his mechanical joints whine as he turned towards the window of his bridge, looking out at the distant aerial battle above the waters. A mountain of a construct, Vorfen stood a good eight feet tall, clad in a broad steel dome that stretched upwards into deep pauldrons, held aloft by huge mechanical greaves connected via rigid support joints. Within the domed armour sat a spherical head, visible only from the cool blue glow of the sensors shaping its rectangular eyes and supported by a myriad of internal wiring. Heavy plated gauntlets slammed down on the vast array of controls at his disposal, pulling levers and spinning the helm with a veteran experience. As the metal plating groaned and tools rattled across the floor, the vast ironclad banked sharply, pulling the enemy slave ship into its crosshairs. Brick was far from agile, and by the time Vorfen had lined up the cannon batteries, the enemy was already bleeding fuel profusely; its deck littered with explosions and defensive flak clouds from his comrades. From below, a familiar D-Grade twisted sharply in the air, narrowly missing a collision with falling debris, before levelling out and refocusing its autocannons onto the now exposed engine systems of their prey, sending out another small ripple of impacts across its surface.

Checking the range dials and altitude meters, Vorfen reached across towards another section of the industrial console, clamping a heavy hand down on a square switch as his eye displays flicked from a relaxed blue to a combat red. Allowing the enemy to drift slowly between his bridge mounted iron sights and the turret mounted crosshairs, the large construct slammed down on the firing sequence, sending a volley of shells howling across the open sky, meeting their target as a vicious cannonade that tore into its starboard hull like paper. Rolling the helm to bring Bricks portside to bear, Vorfen pulled the reloader and began rotating the huge turrets to point at the deep lacerations his craft had inflicted. His bridge rattled with small arms fire as enemy crewmen began retaliating in kind with machine gun fire, taking cover behind the rented armour. Confident the reinforced windows would withstand the barrage, he continued checking dials, ensuring that Brick matched the speed and descent of its mark. His hand hovering over the firing switch, a resonating, ethereal howl echoed across the sky, staying his hand for a brief moment as a dark silhouette raced across Bricks starboard bow. Unleashing a single, intense bolt of eldritch energy into the gutted C-Grade, the esoteric bat-like shape of Echo streaked across its deck, briefly illuminated by the eerie detonation left in its wake before extending its wings outwards and vanishing into the clouds. Seizing the opportunity, Vorfen unleashed another fusilade, tearing into it like lions to a fresh carcass. Support beams, already weakened under the intense arcane heat, shattered; showering the unfortunate and beleaguered slavers with searing metal before the deck below them gave way. As the once vast, looming shape of the C-Grade slave ship disintegrated into fragments of burning debris, it slammed into the treacherous, writhing waters below, rapidly sinking from sight as the ocean consumed it.

His eye lights flicking back to a calming blue, Vorfen turned the helm, feeling Brick’s bulk below him shift as the large, once stolen, pirate airship made its way back to The Lightskipper, its newfound purpose under the hands of the protective construct at its bridge already showing promise. Glancing out the window, Aurora dipped Songbirds wings, giving him a hearty wave before beginning her descent towards the battered aircraft carrier they had been tasked to defend. Over the crackling communication radio, Vorfen heard Cie coming back into range. “Well, at least we can say we earned our keep. Maybe now they’ll consider upgrading us to something other than a metal tin to sleep in.” A hearty chuckle left the metallic figure as he laughed to himself. “Yes Cie. I Agree.” Vorfens voice was calm and direct, opting to speak as clear as only a construct could. Over the radio, a confused voice joined the conversation, crackling and distorted with static as the communications device attempted to transmit the deep resonation of Carbos voice correctly. “Did we win?” “Yep, that ship never stood a chance. Certainly something bigger than we expected on this run though.” Vincent replied, the wind whipping at his words as he came in to land. “Ah, very good. I..er, better put these locks back on then shouldn’t I?” “Carbo, did you get stuck trying to unhook Alloy again?”

The radio retained an awkward silence for a few moments as Thunder scraped across the top deck of The Lightskipper, narrowly missing a few large sections of debris covering the airstrip. Vincent let the old craft whine down slowly, waiting a few moments before placing his gloved hands on the cooling fuselage in order to lift himself out of the cockpit. Pulling off his flight goggles and facemask, he ran a hand through his dark hair before rolling his shoulders and producing a hip flask from his side. Taking a swig, he looked around, checking the horizon for any other threats, before spotting the dark form of Echo banking sharply into the battered hanger beneath him. A tough, rugged, middle aged man, Vincent was the most experienced pilot the group had. And in the age of elves, dwarves and other magical races, few could compete with Vincent's natural human talents in the sky. He breathed in the stark, Skytrol filled air, the fumes of the recent conflict lingering on the winds. He checked Thunder’s Skytrol fuel tank, and opened up the radio. “Cie, Thunder’s running on empty. Any ideas how long this trip’s got left?” “Probably only another day Vincent. We should be able to get a resupply once we reach the mainland.” Cie replied, her voice echoing across the radio from the lower hanger. “Right, well the sooner the better really. She doesn’t run on magic like yours does.” Vincent hooked the radio to his belt and walked over to Brick, the boarding ramp thudding down onto the deck and a couple of crewmen already running to hook up the mooring lines. “You did good out there Vorfen. How are you looking on fuel and ammunition?” Vincent asked, as the hefty construct trudged down the ramp. Vorfen regarded Vincent for a moment, nodding towards him in greeting before replying. “I Have Around Five Days Of Continual Flight Time Available.” He gestured to the turrets mounted on Bricks deck. “My Ammunition Count Is Approximately Five-Hundred and Forty Seven Rounds of Flak Ammunition And Fifty Rounds Of Cannon Shells” he continued monotonously. Vincent nodded. “Should be enough to get us to the Saybrcg Ports for refuelling, at least.” The construct acknowledged his response and gestured toward the steel hatch leading to the interior of the ship, allowing the fighter pilot to descend the steps towards the mess hall first.

+++ The Lightskipper Mess Hall, 18:00 hours. +++

Cie poured herself another drink and stubbed out a cigarette on the table. It had been a few hours since the attack, and things were only now getting back to normal. Looking around, she could tell that the men were still on edge. “I can’t wait to get off this thing and back onto dry land” she sighed to Aurora. The shy, 2 feet high pixie sat on the edge of the table and looked at her quietly, her mouth half full with a collection of berries and seeds. She swallowed and dusted a few crumbs off her bright, spring coloured, corseted dress, smiling at Cie. Adjusting the tiny pair of goggles strapped atop her frizzy, plaited brown hair and fiddling with her small gemstone earrings, she reached into a tiny leather pouch at her side and pulled out a small green leaf. -+- Don’t Worry! -+- A small, meek voice whispered in Cie’s mind. -+- We’ll be back soon! -+- Aurora spread her wings, fluttering into flight as she drifted over to land on Cie’s shoulder, offering her a handful of berries. “She’s right Cie. We’ll not be long, now, I’m sure” Carbo leaned across the wooden table and placing a bet in the pool of counters between the rest of the group, before checking his cards. Vincent checked his bet, raising it by a couple more counters. “Yeah, I’m with Cie though. This bites. Even with what we’re being paid. Talking about that, who do we see about getting paid?” Vincent asked, looking toward Nomad quizzically. Nomad shrugged as he considered the question, his features covered, as always, by the modified gas mask he wore, and light, studded leather armour that adorned his athletic build. Placing a dexterous hand on the table, he flipped over his cards, revealing a full house. “About a couple of hundred each, if I remember right.” His voice was muffled slightly, but his preoccupation was clear. “I think it might be another hundred for me though eh?” He chuckled as he reached over to pull in the tokens, much to Vorfen’s distaste. Nomad didn’t remember much, having suffered a severe case of amnesia after head trauma from a previous mission, long before he met the group. His ranger senses were still naturally attuned to his surroundings, however, and it was with this particular talent that he proved his usefulness to the group, especially in wild, unexplored territories. When asked his name, Nomad realised he couldn’t remember, and simply adopted the name painted alongside his craft, as a staunch reminder of his continual journey to rediscover his past. “Well whatever it is, it’s not enough. Not for these crappy conditions” Cie grumbled, taking a plate of simplistic looking foodstuffs offered from Carbo. “And I don’t know why you insist on eating with us Carbo, you don’t have a mouth.” Carbo shrugged apologetically. “It’s just nice to have the company I suppose.” Cie smiled, nodding in agreement before going back to navigating whatever food had found its way onto the plate. -+- Do you think we’ll get to see more of Saybrcg while we are here? -+- Aurora asked mentally, her fey magic allowing her to speak in silence. Vincent dealt another set of cards from the deck and threw in a few coins. “Probably. Odds are unless the I.N.C want to bring us up for a mission again like this one, we’ll be on our own for a bit.” He thought back to the first meeting he’d had with the Imperialist National Coalition. The governmental body on Elera wasn’t the most straightforward, and was certainly more militarized that he’d have liked. Everybody on the vast planet of Eressi knew that the northern continent had the biggest guns, but it didn’t stop the I.N.C from flaunting that at every opportunity. But saying that, they did pay well. And the jobs were simple. SImpler than the jobs he used to have to run back in the Arellan military. Though he was sure to keep any mention of the United Colonial Confederation out of his mercenary application. Especially with the cold war tensions slowly escalating between the U.C.C and I.N.C.

-+- I’m sure we’ll be able to find work in Saybrcg. No doubt someone will be interested in protection from the roaming sky pirates if they go east, at the very least. -+- Aurora mimed shooting down an enemy aircraft and giggled to herself. “That’s all well and good Aurora, but it would certainly be nice to have something that pays well for once.” Cie replied, polishing off the mess on the plate, and handing it to Vincent. Putting it on top of his own, he flipped his cards, showing an ace and a king. Hearing the groan from Carbo, he smiled in satisfaction as he finished the royal flush, earning back a good portion of his loss. “Well, I’m sure something’ll come up. Might just be a bit of basic work, but if it keeps us heading to Blebuff then it’ll do.” Cie stretched, standing up and looping her bolt rifle over her shoulder. “Yeah, I suppose so. I’m gonna get some sleep, anyway. If we head into port tomorrow I’d like to be ready to head out for the airfields as soon as I know we aren’t needed anymore.” The group nodded in agreement, and continued finishing up their card game. With Aurora in tow, Cie headed out of the mess hall, taking a left and heading down the steel stairwell to their separate cabins, eager to get some rest.