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serpentface · 3 months ago

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The (now extinct) utosai, the last of the great lacetors.

Lacetors are a clade of warmblooded reptiles that fill niches as large grazers. The only genera surviving in the contemporary are relatively small (averaging about the size of cattle), but many older species grew bigger than elephants. Utosai were the last remaining members of this branch, dwindling towards extinction as their once vast grasslands experienced rapid desertification over a period of a mere few millenia, becoming the massive, mostly uninhabitable desert region colloquially known as the Deadlands.

They would historically live in herds consisting of one male, several (sometimes dozens of) females, and their associated young, which would migrate vast distances to follow seasonal rains. Males would fight each other to gain control of their mates or tempt away singular females, with young males roaming in bachelor herds. As reliable grasslands grew sparser, these herds grew much smaller, with the last remaining utosai being found largely as small bands of females and lone, wandering males that would opportunistically mate when they were lucky enough to find each other.

Utosai had very thick scaly skin that folds in plates, in part a vestigial defense mechanism against large predators that had LONG vanished. Like many other lacetor, they had partly bony facial pads that grew large and colorful in males as display features. Their tremendous curving horns served predominantly as additional display features, while the smaller, jutting horns partly figured into intraspecies combat, with males standing side by side and front to back and swinging these horns at each other in ritualized combat behavior.

These horns were clearly of value to the people who once inhabited the same ranges as utosai, as their ivory figured heavily into their craftwork and holy objects and can be found near-ubiquitously in the burials of high ranking people in the east interior Deadlands. These surviving utosai ivory artifacts are of tremendous value, with the mere prospect of obtaining them tempting many graverobbers and other such wealth-seekers into the remains of ancient human settlements (a mostly futile and often deadly task, most accessible tombs have already been plundered and those still left in peace are hidden deeply beneath the sands).

Utosai lasted far longer than many of their counterparts, surviving on (and trapped within) dwindling patches of coastal grassland fed by ocean rains, too isolated within stretches of desert for any chance of migration to grasslands further from the equator. These last fragmentary populations were discovered by traders and treasure seekers sponsored by the early 2nd Burri empire, with many hatchling utosai being taken back overseas hundreds of miles north. It is unknown when the last wild utosai died, but all but the tiniest fragments of their coastal grasslands are gone and the great beasts are nowhere to be found.

The captive animals were bred in Bur and eventually produced a relatively large (and heavily inbred) population, probably maxing out at around 1000 individuals. They were never truly domesticated but could be made tame and well accommodated to handling, which eventually developed into their use as mounts, forming an elite cavalry unit used in warfare. A war utosai was outfitted with a shielded tower upon its back from which archers could fire from height, and would be driven by a rider on its neck. Their use was functionally similar to irl war elephants, being utilized for intimidation, to scatter enemy formations, and to lead (or break) charges. These were the largest animals that most people would have ever seen, and were often reckoned as nigh-invulnerable. The utosai was heavily used in Bur's wars of conquest, and became an esteemed animal emblematic of the second Burri empire's might.

Very few consistently effective counters to the war utosai were discovered during the duration of their use. One very famous, very successful counter was used by the pre-Wardi Ephenni tribe in its war of independence against the second Burri empire (which was already beginning to collapse). The province of Ephennos was of key import to the empire as a breadbasket, being highly fertile lands and providing much of the grain that sustained the empire. A cavalry of ten utosai (a VERY excessive number against a less well-trained, less well-armed group of soldiers) was brought overseas to assist in crushing dissent and were devastating in battle, with only two of the ten being killed in three years of protracted warfare.

In an act of cleverness, desperation, or both, a trio of khait were covered in pitch and set ablaze, and spurred into hurtling towards the bulls in the utosai cavalry. The utosai panicked and fled, trampling many Burri soldiers in the process and utterly destroying their formations, with three of the eight utosai falling onto their sides (weighed down by their towers) and killed by Ephenni soldiers. This allowed for victory in battle, and this victory ultimately turned the tide in favor of the kingdom of Ephennos and its eventual independence. A motif of three khait wreathed in flames is still widely used in this region and as emblematic of Ephenni heritage (who, while broadly assimilated into Wardi nationality, still retain a sense of individual identity, and pride in their city-state being a center of power and birthplace of kings within Imperial Wardin).

The use of utosai in warfare dwindled after the discovery of this fairly effective counter. They were no longer reckoned as nearly invulnerable, and the great cost of transporting and feeding these animals became increasingly inviable. Captive breeding began to dwindle along with their use in warfare. The last utosai were lost, killed, or slowly died off in the Burri wilderness during and after the empire's tumultuous collapse. Some folklore describes hidden populations surviving in some wilder areas- there are several places in Bur where people claim to sometimes see the silhouettes of these great beasts against the horizon, and the rural parts of Ephennos are rumored to have a few of them (perhaps descendants of the surviving war utosai, perhaps their ghosts). Otherwise, they are lost to the world.

#creatures #Probably should have saved some of this for a wip sketch of a war utosai but ehghgjhgjjhgjhggghghjghghghgcgjhdgfkhlfnvjhgier;klh2iuwi #Also lacetor are ceratopsianoids there Are some non-avian dinosaurs in this setting (but at this point Only these)#I use 'oids' because I take a lot of liberties with the notion that a lot of my creatures are Derived from irl prehistoric animals but #followed different evolutionary pathways into the present. So not a literal speculative ceratopsian but something derived from something #Like That #They notably differ in being built specifically for grazing- they have large flexible lips and broad beaks hidden within for selecting and #cropping grass #They also don't have the frills #and a lot of them have indian rhino-esque armored skin because I think it looks cool #I think there's rhinos in other parts of the setting not dead sure though

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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 15 days ago

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A DC X DP IDEA #38

Harbringer

Imagine dis…

I’ve always wondered why despite Gotham being old as time only has a single nursery rhyme. We all know that nursery rhymes have a connection to real-life events no matter how gruesome the truth behind each upbeat tone. Yet in DC particularly in Gotham, there was only one nursery rhyme that kept being mentioned, and that one is the only thing that turned out to be true aka the Talons.

Why aren't there more legends? Or myths in the human world? DC is a breeding ground of legends and myths turning out to be true…

…

A thick fog covers the streets of Gotham, draping every street, alley, and rooftop with only shadows and the occasional shrieks of stray animals to be heard. The Talons may have their nursery rhyme that supposedly strikes fear in the hearts of Gothamites but also serves as a silent warning that hides behind such an innocent rhyme of a child.

However, despite the Talon’s rhyme being sparsely hummed, it is an even more ancient and more forgotten rhyme that only the older and elderly still remember the bits and pieces of such rhyme.

"Beware the headless rider at night,

In shadows deep, he brings his blight.

Green mist flows where his head should lie,

One look, and then you die."

The elderly used to think that it was Gotham’s version of a Dullahan that came from an ancient Celtic god that spread its influence in Gotham. Nevertheless, it was repeated in hush whispers as if no one wanted to speak loudly, to avoid said gaze. As it was not a man nor any creature they had seen, if you have the gaze of it then you only have mere moments to pray to whatever god you believe in for salvation before its scythe drops down on you like a guillotine.

…

One foggy night, a Joker card slid slowly on the sidewalk outside an abandoned Gotham warehouse, and a loud, piercing laugh from within disturbed the eerie calm. The Joker cherished his next plot, his next punchline to the bats, until the sound of hooves broke through his cackles.

And through through the thick fog, he appeared.

The single nursery rhyme that the elderly remember only bits and pieces of its lyrics, whose reputation was as old as Gotham itself. Mounted on a black stallion with eyes that burned like molten embers, he was a nightmare made of darkness. In one hand, he held a scythe, the blade a slender, vicious arc of gleaming green metal. His other arm clutched his head—a pale and dead face with black hair and a pair of blue eyes that smoldered with icy, unwavering malice, linked to his neck by a moving strand of green smoke.

The Joker, perhaps the only man insane enough not to flee in the face of this nightmare, grinned even wider.

He cackled and laughed like the madman he is and exclaimed if he was one of the bat's new brood, or maybe a meta that had a grudge against him, and so on. Ignoring the shiver that crept behind his mind, and the slight twitch in his ever-confident smile that he usually uses to bare his teeth in bold defiance.

A shadow swept over the cracked glass, and he noticed it. That cold, lifeless head in the rider's grasp, stared at him with eyes that beheld every twisted corner of his psyche. The green mist filled the room, wrapping around Joker's ankles and pressing against his chest, chilly as the nothingness.

His scythe rose in a slow, methodical arc, cutting through the mist as if it were silk. Joker's grin vanished as an icy weight fell to his bones. His heart stopped, a chilly, unnatural stillness seizing him as if the air around him had frozen. The green mist tightened, coiling around his neck, filling his lungs and pulling the last wisps of air from his lips.

He swung his scythe and sliced through the darkness in a smooth, flowing stroke. And at that final, fleeting second, Joker saw his reflection in the rider's eyes, twisted and broken, captured in a flash of green.

Then quiet.

When the fog slowly disappeared, the Joker lay sprawled on the ground, his lifeless eyes staring at the darkness, as his infamous smile that used to be a symbol of fear in Gotham now has that uncertainly or some call it fear, forever etched on his face.

He rode away, going back into Gotham's shadowy streets. Somewhere ahead, his next prey waited, blissfully oblivious to the approaching judgment.

Following his departure, the nursery rhyme floated back into the night, scaring the elders who were blissfully sleeping, and woke up in alert as if they were back within their parent’s embrace after being scared of the old rhymes that their parents had just whispered to them in the dead of night.

…

Danny used to be a protector on both sides of his ghostly and humanity side. As years pass by, he the same faces of both the GIW and his parents committing the same atrocities, escaping justice time and again. Each innocent ghostly life and even the ghostly animals and blobs became a haunting reminder of the limits of mercy.

When the Observants summoned him, they gave him two options: remain powerless as innocent souls were lost or take on a new purpose—one that only someone with a heart as broken as his own could bear. They dubbed him the Harbringer, the one who would see that the irredeemable face the consequences of their brutality, that day he became both the judge and executioner of both realms. Though his duty didn’t stop between the two realms, He traveled in between dimensions using the countless doors in the Infinite Realms as a way to fulfill his duties.

He reluctantly accepted, and with it came the curse: he would no longer feel warmth or joy from those he once loved. His sole companion would be the ghostly steed that delivers him to his next destination and the faint echoes of a nursery rhyme that accompanied him in each timeline and in between worlds.

Now, he hovered over countless worlds, as a headless specter burdened by a task no one else could bear—a duty that he carried alone, all in the hope that one day, he could finally regain the peace he had long lost.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: I will be a bit busy so let me just post this early.

#dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom

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juliavilu1 · 6 months ago

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Pregnancy Headcanons - Lucerys Velaryon x Reader

I would like to dedicate this to @madame-fear. This is my first time writing something, hope you all like it. 🩷

When you informed Lucerys you were with child, he was speechless at first, but not surprised. After all, the prince already suspected it was the cause of your illness since he had been present during his mother’s pregnancies.

Luke couldn’t contain the smile on his face upon hearing the news, though. He secretly had been craving to build a family with you. So he promised he would never leave your side to make sure you and the baby were alright.

Said and done. Even if he had other duties as a prince, Lucerys would always make sure to have time with his wife. When you were feeling too tired, Luke would ask a maid to prepare a bath for you to relax. He would accompany you on your walks at the beach, his fingers interlocked with yours. And whenever you were craving for something, your husband would happily give it to you.

One day, Lucerys would find you looking at yourself in the mirror, wearing his house colors, while you stroked your swollen belly. The sight made a big smile appear on his face and suddenly the worries of the day vanished, only his wife and baby mattered.

Arrax would get very protective of you, after all he sensed the feelings his rider had towards you. So everytime the pearl-colored dragon saw you, he would come closer, red eyes scrutinizing your pregnant belly. Then, his snout would nudge at your stomach, which made you and Luke chuckle. Lucerys admired the scene before him, never getting tired of seeing his lovely wife interacting with his dragon.

At night, Lucerys whispered words in High Valyrian to the baby as you ran your fingers through his curls. When sleeping, his arms would embrace your form and hold the weight of your belly, which made you sigh in relief every time.

Of course, Luke would pick a dragon egg for his child. He and Jace always did that with their brothers, and now the moment has come for him to choose one for his baby.

When the guards informed Lucerys that his wife had begun her labors, he’d immediately stop what he was doing and rush to where you were. Maester Gerardys would tell him to wait outside of the chambers. But before Luke could protest, your scream calling for his name echoed through the hall and he rushed over to your side.

He’d hold your hand the whole time, do massages on your back to soothe you and try to relieve the pain, press wet clothes on your forehead… Anything that was at his reach he would do.

Your back was pressed to his as you pushed with all the strength you had left in your body. One last push and the room soon was filled with the baby’s piercing cry.

It was the most beautiful sound Lucerys had ever heard. The cry of his son, his little dragon… The maid assisting the birth cleaned the baby and passed the child to you, wrapped in blankets.

Your son was a copy of Lucerys. Green eyes, dark curls covering his head…. He was so small, but his hold so strong on your finger. Luke couldn’t help but chuckle.

That night, as his wife rested in a deep slumber, Lucerys held the small boy close to his chest and swore to love and protect him at all costs.

#lucerys velaryon x reader #house of the dragon #lucerys velaryon

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nerdasaurus1200 · 2 years ago

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So apparently Cass has a favorite Flynn Rider book…I can hear Eugene maniacally laughing in the distance.

#tts #rta #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #nerd talks #cassandra #flynn rider #vanishing village #eugene fitzherbert

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aoioozora · 10 months ago

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Simon.

Part 1

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au Photo credit: quinci Note: Had 'Meddle About' by Chase Atlantic on repeat as I wrote this in one sitting. My first COD fanfiction. Enjoy!

Their hands squeezed against your arms and wrists. You tried to pull and yank away in resistance to their unwanted advances.

“Hey, c'mon, you're cute! You should come with us.” one of them said in a voice that was meant to sound silky and inviting, but came off as sleazy.

Words failed you, all of them stuck in your throat, a large lump of fear blocking them from escaping your lips, tightening within your neck like a balloon about to burst. The memory of self-defense vanished from your muscles as you pitifully tried to fight off three men who were taller and bigger than you with your pathetic grunts and pleas to be released.

Upon the dark and empty streets, a distant hum of an engine, accompanied by a singular bright light which seemed like a firefly's glow, appeared to he approaching. You took no notice.

The hum of the distant engine grew about as loud as a cat's threatening growl, and the light as that of a strong flashlight. It still didn't catch your notice.

The growl turned into a loud, deafening roar, seemingly at will, vibrating the still air like an earthquake. It caught all of your attention as it drew near at an alarming speed towards the four of you.

The three men shrieked with fright, automatically letting your hands go in the process, and covered their faces with their arms. The growling, glowing thing screeched to a halt inches in front of them, sending the sharp smell of burnt rubber up their noses.

When the four of you looked, there stood a shiny, jet black sports motorcycle, upon which sat a rider. He was helmeted, also dressed in ripped black jeans that hugged his tree trunk-like thighs, a black leather jacket that tightened against his muscular arms and broad shoulders. The flickering white light of the street lamp cast a ghastly, ominous glow over him, making him look like some sort of ghost from an urban legend.

The three men recovered from their shock and opened their mouths to berate this biker for interrupting them, but before they even did, the biker flicked up the dark visor of his helmet and revealed his equally dark, glaring eyes.

“What are you doing with my girlfriend?” asked the biker, enunciating every word, slowly, like he was holding back a dam's amount of rage. His gruff, gravelly, British accented voice was muffled slightly by the balaclava he wore under the helmet, yet every word was heard loud and clear as if they were spoken through a megaphone, and the three men immediately stepped back from you, knowing that messing with another man's girl would have dire consequences.

You didn't know you had a boyfriend. Yet you played along.

“Simon!” You cried as you ran to him, going behind the motorcycle and hiding behind his large body. You decided to name him whatever came to mind first.

He sat up straight on his motorcycle to keep you hidden from them as he balanced on the sleek vehicle which rumbled like a distant thunder between his legs. He glared at the three men. “Well?” he asked with a growl that very well sounded the same as the roar of his vehicle's engine.

They simply backed off without a word, knowing they wouldn't win. The mysterious motorcyclist who you named ‘Simon’, stayed until the three men were out of sight while you still stood behind him, watching them leave.

“You okay?” he finally asked you when the coast was clear, now turning his dark eyes over his shoulder, where you were standing.

You let out an exhale you didn't know you were holding. “I'm fine,” You replied with some effort, massaging your aching wrists.

He paused before replying; he could clearly see that you were rattled by the experience, considering how your eyes still looked apprehensive like that of a hunted rabbit’s. His eyes flickered to your wrists, and he looked back at you. “Did they hurt you?” he asked softly.

“They just held me tight. I mean, my arms.” You exhaled again, the ache in your wrists easing slightly. Words still seemed to fail you, but they now flowed out a little easier.

He seemed slightly taken aback by how nonchalantly you said this, like it was a common thing. “Bastards.” he growled in his very distinct accent, clearly not the posh British accent you knew. “This place isn't safe. What were you loitering around here for?” he asked, now holding the handles of his motorcycle as he leaned back and moved his legs, moving the motorcycle backwards so that it was now back on the street.

You moved away to give him space, and then replied, “A friend of mine lives here. There was a party at her place.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he now leaned forward to cross his arms on the tank of his vehicle. “Do you want to get out of here safely without getting hounded by blokes like those?” he asked.

“Yes!” you answered immediately. Somehow, you felt like you could trust this man somewhat, especially after he saved you and enquired about your wellbeing after that ordeal.

He leaned back slightly and patted the pillion behind him. “Get on. I'll be your taxi tonight.”

You blinked. “Are you sure? I don't want to bother you too much.”

��Look here, lass,” he started, leaning forward again, “I don't know if you know, but besides those cunts, there are muggers here too. And they all wake up at night. If you want to get out of here safely and not be a news report tomorrow, then get on." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, "I'll take you wherever you need to go.”

You were surprised by his straightforwardness, yet it somehow seemed apt for a man with a gruff voice and a fearless attitude. Not another word more, you climbed up on the pillion of his motorcycle with some stumbling, but the man was patient, and leaned his motorcycle to the side to lower it slightly, so you could get on easier. As you were doing this, you couldn't help but notice the musky, earthy smell of his perfume, which reminded you of wet soil, rain, and dark chocolate; a positively divine scent.

“What's your name?” You asked as soon as you were comfortably settled on the seat.

There was a moment's pause before he answered, “Simon,” with an almost careful tone, as if he wanted to see your reaction.

As he expected, your eyes were wide with surprise. It melted away slightly as you thought he was just playing around with you. "Come on, that's the name I called you by earlier. What's your actual name?"

"It's Simon." he insisted.

You blinked yet again. "What a coincidence," You said laughingly, "I could've never imagined getting your name right on accident."

“I confess, you surprised me there.” His voice trailed off at the end, as if he wanted to say something cheesy, but he stopped himself, remembering that you were a stranger and not his friend. He leaned back again, yet again moving his motorcycle backwards.

You instinctively took hold of his shoulder to keep yourself steady as he moved. You tried to ignore it, but you noted how broad and rugged his shoulders were.

“So, where d'you wanna go?” he asked, taking hold of the handles and twisting the accelerator, making the motorcycle growl.

You told him your destination.

“Not too far. Two minutes if I go at 150.” he said, as if 150 kmph was slow for him. But he looked at you over his shoulder, “You okay going fast?”

“I've never gone fast before.”

He figured. "Wanna get a feel of it?"

"Sure, I've not nothing to lose... except my life, if you don't drive safely."

He chuckled, and it sounded oddly cute, unlike his gruff voice. "Just trust me, lass. I'm not gonna turn you into a news report."

"Well, you saved my life just there, I expect you to preserve it." You said with a chuckle. It felt strange that you already seemed comfortable enough with him to joke around.

"Nothing to worry about," he assured as he turned forward and revved the engines again. “You'll fly off, so hold on to me tight.” He said with emphasis.

“Gotcha.”

He got the wheels running, and started slow. The breeze kissed your face and your hair, and in the cool night, it felt freeing. He twisted the accelerator, going a notch faster. The breeze blew against you like a blow dryer, and you squinted your eyes slightly in order to see the quickly passing landscape of buildings, 24 hour convenience stores, and lighted street lamps.

He gradually increased the speed so you would not freak out, an oddly considerate thing he did for a complete stranger, something he would not usually ever do.

As the dial of the speedometer passed the 80s and crossed to the 100s, the breeze, now a gust, started to mercilessly slap your face, not allowing you to open your watering eyes. By this time, you had your arms around his waist and your face stuffed in and hidden behind his large back, holding on to him for dear life, while the smell of his perfume consoled your fears.

He rode on, completely unfazed by this speed, but a little stiff at the fact that a person, a woman, particularly, was holding on to him. It was out of necessity, of course, yet he couldn't help but feel a little strange about it.

As predicted, in two minutes, he reached your destination, which was thankfully a busy area with people still bustling around the open shops like it was daytime. He halted to a stop where you asked, and you took hold of his shoulder again as you mounted off the high pillion seat.

“Thanks a lot, Simon,” You smiled at him. You took notice of the logo on his helmet that carried the Italian flag in a semi-circle; it seemed to stand out over the glossy black shell of the headgear.

He pushed up his dark visor, and the flag was obscured. He nodded in response as his eyes studied your face, taking in the contours of your features all in a brief moment. "How did the speed feel?" he asked.

"Exhilarating," You replied, feeling your heart thumping wildly.

"In a good way?"

"I guess. It was kind of scary, but I liked it."

He nodded, and in his eyes, you could see that he looked a little pleased by your answer.

“I know it's not much but…” You paused, putting your hand in the pocket of your jacket, causing the contents to ruffle against each other. You pulled out a small, hard red candy wrapped in clear plastic and handed it to him. “... This is a little something for you for helping me out.”

He stared at the little candy on the palm of your hand, almost ready to refuse it out of modesty. But it was just a little candy. Who could it hurt? His fair hand reached out and took the candy, and both of you noted how tiny the sweet treat looked on his palm. He could crush it with his bare hands if he wanted to. Yet, he held it gently and stashed it in the pocket of his leather jacket, murmuring a word of gratitude that was barely audible under the two layers of his balaclava and his helmet.

“Well, you take care. And don't hang around in sketchy places like that next time,” he said, as if you were his friend of many years.

You were warmed by his concern for you, and you smiled, nodding. “After that, I don't think I'll hang around there at this time anymore. I'm sure as hell gonna stay over at my friend's place if I'm there till late.”

“Excellent choice,” he remarked. “I'll be off now.”

“Take care.” You smiled at him again, and his eye lingered on you a moment longer before he turned his head away.

He silently revved the engine of his vehicle again and sped off. You stood by the side of the road, watching his figure recede as the distance grew.

A sense of longing washed over you for this stranger named Simon, and you wondered if you would ever see him again. It was a strange coincidence that you unknowingly guessed his name so correctly, like unknowingly marking the right choice in a multiple choice exam.

It all came back to you now. The feeling of his rugged shoulder and back under the smooth leather of his jacket; the coarse, gravelly growl of his British accented voice that felt like rubbing coffee powder between your fingers, rough yet pleasing; the scent of his perfume like that of a dark, wet, rainforest; and his eyes… oh, his dark eyes were brooding and mysterious. Under the shade of his helmet, they seemed like swirling little black holes, the gravity around them dense enough to draw you in like a helpless star.

A shiver passed down your spine as you thought of him, making your cheeks flush with warmth as a distant look reflected in your pining eyes.

You started your walk back home, thoughts filled to the brim, flooding like a tidal wave with this biker. You were left knowing nothing about him, except for his name:

Simon.

End.

Part 2

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callsign-rogueone · 3 months ago

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stay

fwb!Liam Mairi x gn!reader words: 1.9k 🏷: no book spoilers. gender neutral reader. mentions of sex but it's purposely left vague, though it's implied that Liam does most of the work there. a bit of miscommunication (because all dragon riders are allergic to talking about their feelings), both of you are in love but neither of you think that the other person wants a relationship, this is the tipping point, Liam is such a cutie baby I love him sm, soft happy ending <3

Liam Mairi is a perfect gentleman, which of course, makes him an excellent lay. He always makes sure that you’re satisfied before he is, always gentle with you and always asking for consent, even if it’s something you’ve done before.

You’d asked him about that once, curious.

“Just because it was okay once doesn’t mean it’s always okay,” he’d answered, a little bashfully. “I’d never want to make you uncomfortable.”

You are never, ever uncomfortable with him. Quite the opposite, actually. He manages to liquefy you every time, to drain every drop of stress from your body and leave you in a soft heap on his mattress, to be scooped up into his lap and molded into a real person again by the gentle pressure of his arms around you, his hand stroking your hair while he murmurs soft assurances that you’re safe and tells you how pretty you are.

Two nights a week, he takes you apart just to put you back together again, making you whole — but it never lasts until morning. Like the fairy tales you'd read as a child — at the stroke of midnight, the magic fades. Only instead of a princess turning back into a housemaid, you go from feeling like the person he treasures most in the world to a complete stranger.

That much isn’t his fault.

You’re in too deep, and you know it. You’ve been over your head for more than a month now — since the first time you hooked up. You’d never felt that good in your life. But for some stupid reason that you can’t even name, after you’d come back down to earth, you decided that you weren’t going to spend the night, that you couldn’t.

And so you never have. You’ve hooked up precisely sixteen times over the last two months, sometimes in your room, sometimes in his, one time in the showers; that had certainly been an experience. But never once have you fallen asleep together.

That’s the one part of your dynamic that you’d never talked about. Everything else required semi-detailed conversations about consent, boundaries, being exclusive (neither of you ever sleep with anyone else, even though you’ve agreed that you’re not exclusive), but you’ve never discussed staying the night. After your vanishing act on night one, he’d assumed that you would never want to stay the night, and that you wouldn’t want him to stay either.

So here you are again, wrapped up in his arms, planning your escape, as if there’s anything you could possibly want more than to remain like this forever.

But it’s not about what you want. Life is never about what you want.

You start to get up to look for your clothes, but he wraps a strong arm around your hips, pulling you back against his chest and nuzzling his nose into your neck with a sleepy whine. “Don’t go yet.”

You laugh softly. “Fine, I’ll stay.”

You feel him still beside you, loosening his grip. “You don’t have to,” he adds quickly. “I understand if you want to leave.”

You roll over, turning to face him. He’s absolutely adorable — hair mussed, cheeks pink with embarrassment as he realizes that he’s implicated himself here, that he’s admitted that he wants you to stay, because he wants more than you’ve been willing to give him.

You’re not supposed to stay. That’s the whole point of friends with benefits. It’s supposed to be strictly transactional — a body for a body, pleasure for pleasure, nothing more. Take what you need and leave.

You’re terrible at this whole thing, both of you.

You’re not supposed to cuddle after, but Liam is too sweet to just abandon you immediately after a roll in the sheets. He always makes sure you’re okay, lets you rest your body against the soft muscle of his chest for a while, until he’s sure that you’re in a good headspace again. But what’s an appropriate amount of aftercare for two people who aren’t in love?

And you definitely aren’t supposed to stay the night.

That’s been the one thing that you do correctly every time. You always duck out after you’ve both caught your breath and made a shameful amount of eye contact, looking at each other, memorizing them — somehow that always feels so much more intimate than the actual sex.

His eyes are bottomless oceans that you’ve been treading water in, but you don’t know how much longer you can go on like this, with no land in sight.

He’s always worried when you leave. To be fair, it isn’t very safe out in the dorm hallways, especially late at night, but in an effort to keep this casual, to keep yourself from drowning, you’d reassured him that you’re both trained fighters, your rooms only are a minute’s walk apart, lit by mage light, and he can see danger coming from a literal mile away with his signet. You’ll both be fine.

And so, whoever came over is the first to leave, getting dressed quietly and heading out with as few words as possible, slipping down the hallway back to their own room, where they’ll shower and get ready for bed, thinking about the other person all the while.

Sometimes, when it’s your bed you’re using, you’ll pretend to be asleep until he leaves — you don’t do goodbyes, because they hurt too much. And in this death trap of a school, saying goodbye to anyone feels like jinxing it, finalizing the end of your relationship and giving Malek permission to take you away forever. You’ve always been a little superstitious like that.

You aren’t great at the friends part either. You don’t interact much during the day. You’re friendly, sure, but you aren’t friends. You get along well whenever you’re grouped up for anything, offering each other a smile and a small wave when your paths cross, but that’s the extent of it.

You can’t help but smile every time you look at him. That should have been a warning sign.

“I do want to stay,” you whisper after what feels like an eternity, looking up into those beautiful blue eyes.

“Okay,” he says shyly.

You cuddle deeper into his side, tucking your head into his neck and closing your eyes, because that’s easier than talking.

Laying with him has always been easy. You fit together like puzzle pieces, interlocking tightly but not too tightly. Always comfortable, never forced.

He wraps his arms around you again, laying a kiss to the top of your head. “Get some sleep,” he encourages.

You wake to bright sunlight hitting your face, and you whine in complaint, turning your head away from the window — into the firm muscle of Liam’s chest.

Oh, shit. Had you fallen asleep on him, trapping him here, and he was too nice to disturb you, to wake you up and kick you out?

No, you remember, this was mutual. You’d done the usual cuddling-and-affirmations thing and then you’d fallen down that slippery slope, somehow agreeing to spend the night.

It’s been years since you last slept a full eight hours straight — you don’t really do that anymore. But you don’t remember waking up in the middle of the night, either. Is he awake? Maybe you can slip away without waking him if you’re quiet and you…

“Morning,” he greets, his voice raspy and low with sleep.

Holy shit, that’s hot. You want to hear that first thing in the morning, every morning.

“Morning,” you respond shyly, as if you aren’t both almost completely naked in his bed.

“You sleep okay? Xaden says I snore, but I don’t believe him.”

“Yeah, I… I slept well. I didn’t hear any snoring. I was totally out.”

“Good.”

Another awkward pause. Time to be brave.

“Liam?” you ask softly, gazing across his shoulders at the beginning of his relic, where it curls over his collarbone. “I don’t know a better way to ask this, but… what are we?”

“What do you want us to be?” he asks carefully. He’s loosened his grip on you again, like he did last night. He’s prepared to rip the bandage off. You should be, too.

You should be a lot of things.

“I asked first,” you say, like a child.

You close your eyes, taking mental inventory of where you’d scattered your clothes last night, and which pieces you can go without if you have to sprint down the hallway to the safety of your own room, should he not tell you what you need to hear.

He takes a breath before he responds — a deep one, that makes your body rise and fall with his. “Last I checked, we’re friends with benefits, but if you wanted to… we could be more than that. Life’s too short to not chase what you want.”

“Is that what you want? More?” you ask in a whisper.

“It is. It has been for a long time now. I thought I was okay with just being fuck buddies, but I care about you, deeply, and I want to be with you all the time — not just in this room, naked.”

You laugh, holding him a little tighter. “I do very much enjoy being in this room with you, naked. But I’d also like to be able to hold your hand in the hallways and go on dates and whatever couples are supposed to do.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly.

You scoot up to be at eye level with him. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he says, swallowing — his eyes not leaving yours.

“You getting all shy on me now, Mairi?” you ask, boldened by the blush on his cheeks. “You certainly weren’t last night.”

He reddens further. “I’m just trying to decide if this is real, or if I’m still dreaming,” he says softly.

That’s damned adorable.

“How about I kiss you to check? That always seems to wake people up in fairy tales.”

“That would be nice.”

“Okay then.”

You lean down, nudging your nose against his for a moment before you lean in, connecting your lips in a lazy kiss.

He sighs softly, bringing a hand up to rest on your back, holding you in place.

You pull back for air after a moment, but keep your foreheads pressed together. “What do you think?” you ask. “Still dreaming?”

“No,” he answers, a little breathless. “Definitely not dreaming.”

“Good.”

Another quiet moment — a comfortable one, this time.

“It’s Saturday,” he says. “We could sleep until noon if we wanted.”

“Start making up for all the times we didn’t actually sleep together.”

He laughs, a warm, low sound like summer thunder from miles away. “Sounds like a plan, then.”

You settle back down against him, fitting yourself under his arm. He pulls you a bit closer, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

Talking feels safer now than it did before, when you were both constantly worrying that anything you said would expose the feelings that you weren’t supposed to have.

You trace your fingers over the smoky pattern winding up his forearm, speaking softly. “I know you must have bad feelings about it, but I’ve always thought it was beautiful.”

“Not all bad,” he says after a moment. “It’s the last piece I have of my mom. She was the one who made the runes that marked us all. They’re supposed to protect us, but I’m not really sure how. I never got to ask.”

“I’m so sorry,” you say quietly, your fingertips stilling.

“I never know how to respond when people say that,” he admits.

“You don’t have to say anything at all,” you tell him, your eyes drifting shut. “We’re good at that.”

He rubs a hand up and down your back gently. “Yeah. We are.”

#liam mairi #liam mairi x reader #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader

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tigirl-and-co · 1 month ago

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Ok get ready Dragon >:3 ❤️

For all four tf ocs! 1, 16, 20, 38 aaand 58!!!

I'm sorry if that's a lot, I'm just really curious 😄

THANK YOU JEN I LOVE YOU JEN

1. first impressions)

Angelus comes off as kind of pompous- and he is! but he also thinks everybody else is Hot Shit too, but you have to get to know him a bit. He's also not really all that intelligent off the battlefield, and people tend to notice.

So I'd say his first impression is a bit negative, and depending on your tolerance for preening and grandstanding it may or may not be accurate.

Tenshi comes across as really sweet, and that's true, but she's also a little wired and enjoys the frenetic parts of life. She's sort of hyperpop inspired, which comes across in her personality as well as her looks.

She's a great friend and a good listener, which comes across pretty well on first meeting, but once you get to know her she's something like 'btas harley quinn meets mabel pines'

Rider tends to come off as colder and more dour than he really is. He's a really chill and pretty nice guy, but he's NOT really an 'open book' type unless you get him talking about shared experiences. People tend to think he's rude when really he's just being cautious.

Honestly he's the most likely of my group (barring maybe Tenshi) to bond with a human, but DEFINITELY the most likely to know how to actually take care of a human. But he's pretty guarded at first so you wouldn't know it.

Vanisher comes off as awkward. Which is very funny, because he is absolutely the most reliable, most 100% ride or die of any of these guys. Like if he thinks a friend is in danger he is crashing through buildings and shit- just PLEASE don't ask him personal questions on the way back to base.

So I guess his first impression is that he's wishy-washy or unreliable, which couldn't be further from the truth. You just need to see him in his element first.

I'm also gonna answer this for Hawk, the guy I made in highschool, because the whole gimmick of his character is that everybody thinks he's scary as hell when they first meet him, but he's actually The Most Chill Guy Ever. Guy who wants to have a beer with you but looks like if the terminator was a giant ninja assassin.

16. team player or solo rider?)

Angelus believes in his ability to get things done, but he's 100% a team player. He knows about the power of teamwork, and on the battlefield he has an almost instinctive understanding of the role everybody has to play to make it successful.

Tenshi loooooves her friends but honestly... asking for help doesn't really cross her mind. It's not out of arrogance or anything, she just literally forgets it's an option! She was originally a minor pencil-pushing bureaucrat before volunteering to be a gladiator, so she's used to self-reliance.

Rider, while a very nice dude, is NOT a team player. He does best with having one or two companions that he can trust more than anything, and even then tends to consider himself the 'leader' of the group. He calls the shots. Trying to 'fit in' does not come naturally to him.

Vanisher is also not a team player. His ideal is going it alone, meeting new faces and making friends wherever he goes. He relies on the kindness of strangers a lot, but rarely forms long-lasting bonds. Those are too easy to take from him.

20. how do they deal with being upset?

Angelus tends to push those sorts of emotions down, but that can only last so long. When the dam breaks, he hopes nobody's there to see it.

But really? He needs a friend. If somebody he really, truly trusts is there to help him through it, he'll feel a lot better a lot quicker. He trusts the words of his friends, so their comfort is anything but empty.

Tenshi loves a good bitch sesh! If she's sad or mad or whatever, she'll seek out a friend and just start talking about it. Honestly, when she found out humans will just sit in a room and complain about things for like an hour, she was hooked. 10/10 way to deal with her emotions

Rider will gripe and grouse with a companion, but otherwise tends to deal with his emotions by taking a long drive down a scenic route. He has a hard time trusting other people with his emotions.

Vanisher is like Rider but even more so. As his name suggests, he just Vanishes. He'll drive for hours, doing all sorts of car acrobatics until he calms down.

38. Where do they go/what do they do to feel safe?)

Angelus goes to his berthroom. It's where he can let his mask fall, where he's in control of his life. His attitude is genuine, but his relentless positivity is less so.

Tenshi likes to go where other bots are. If there's a lot of bots hanging out in the common areas, that's where she's at. If she can't find a group, she'll find a friend to hang out with. It makes her feel like part of something.

Rider likes to sit out under the stars and watch the world go by. It helps him remember what he's doing this all for, and soothes his troubled spark. He gave up a lot of freedoms to join the cause, but he would do it again to keep this planet from ending up like Cybertron.

Vanisher can be found either out on the racetrack or drinking at a bar by himself. He's been through a lot, and anything that helps him keep his mind off of it is something that helps.

58. Morals or friendship?

Angelus would let himself be strung along by a friend for a little while, but he would always choose to stand strong to his beliefs- "You aren't the person I thought you were, so our friendship ends here." bc he CHOOSES friends based on (how he perceives) their inner fibre.

Tenshi is pretty impulsive and would likely follow a loved one past the point of no return before realizing what she's done. And afterwards, she'd cling to her loved one because they're the one good and familiar thing she has now.

Rider and Vanisher stick to their guns. They've been through enough to know when to cut people loose from their lives. It'd hurt, but they could do it.

Thank you for the aaaaaask!!! this was super fun!!! And I feel like I have a stronger grasp on my guys now

#ocs #hawk #magnus angelus #tenshi #vanisher #rider #transformers oc #ask #dormiloncito #transformers

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