#oc: laylah

[shivering-isles-cryptid]

Makes updates to my Redguard oc like:

Using google translate English to Arabic

Scrolling through hundreds of baby name websites to find Arabic names

Scrolling through hundreds of lore pages on UESP to look at the relationship of different Divines and Daedra, as well as the Redguard pantheon

Scrolling through hundreds of lore pages on UESP to guesstimate what the current situation of Cyrodiil is

Scrolling through Nexus Mods and YouTube to find mods I want to make canon for her

Looking up traditional Arabic, Hebrew, Nordic, and Roman/Greek weapons in order to design a singular sword

Memorizing maps of Hammerfell, High Rock, and Cyrodiil so I can guesstimate what they look like in the 4th Era

And I don’t even want to mention how much research I’ve put into her armor, casual wear, and formal wear

[tubatwo]

hi all it’s been a while… life has been hectic but I am still very much delusional over kai……. actually can we take this moment to talk about HIS PONYTAIL?!?

guys I almost died. can you imagine him shyly admitting he wants to try something new… so he comes to his favorite person for help :( you sit him down and comb through his locks while placing occasional kisses on his forehead :((((( then you tie his hair into a ponytail and almost pass out from how handsome he looks and he’s just super flustered while looking at himself in the mirror!! he probably felt like a rockstar even more can you imagine him with his guitar too AHHHHHH our lovely rockstar bf

[matchalovertrait]

Caruso should've minded his own business ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ He started this whole thing.

Transcript:

Dulce: Trying to copy my ideas? I don’t blame you.

Caruso: What? I was looking at the board.

Dulce: Sure.

Caruso: That’d be some preschool stuff.

Dulce: Hey, if the shoe fits. Also, class ended a while ago but you’re still here with me. Why is that?

Caruso: I’m honing my skills.

Dulce: [Laughs] What skills?

Caruso: [Too stunned to speak] [Probably regretting everything]

Dulce: As they say, “If you can’t handle the heat, get out of the kitchen.”

Laylah: Guys, please. I’m here too. Get a room or something.

[wkyarts51243]

Charlie telling laylah about her project

Laylah, being one of the important archangels in heaven, had to meet Charlie to learn more about her ideas of redemption

Important information whenever I show Laylah she may have different hair, it's a detail I wanted to add to this character

🙏🙏🙏please share i will appreciate it🙏🙏🙏

#hazbinhotel #hazbinhoteloc #helluvabossoc #helluvaboss #hazbinhotelfanart #helluvabossart #helluva #hazbin #vivziepop #hazbinhotelart #hazbinhotellaylah #hazbinhotelcharlie

[shivering-isles-cryptid]

I’ll make Laylah in Skyrim at some point, but my Morrowind OC is 100% gonna come first

So, I’m currently working on making Velentius in Oblivion. Just gotta download some mods to add in the things that I imagine him wearing even though they’re not in the game.

I’m gonna do before prison, during main quest, after main quest, and after Shivering Isles.

I’ll also make a post like this on my main account for my Skyrim OC. Make sure to check that one out if you haven’t already.

[birbgalaxy]

and here's leliel :D (30)

[nonsenseflower]

2023 | Quick scribble of my oc Loli 🤍 Based on a Picrew by トロロ, which you can find here: ななめーかー｜Picrew

[shivering-isles-cryptid]

It really is, I make sure to get some every December cuz aesthetics

She really is! She was born in High Rock, spent time in Hammerfell with her mothers side, went to Cyrodiil for a bit, and then Skyrim happens.

What are a few of Leara's favourite things?

Hey, thanks for the ask!

Leara loves spiced tea, made with citrus. Abundant in Summerset and southern High Rock, but hard to come by in frozen, rugged Skyrim.

Soft yellows, blues, and purples are her favorite colors. Yellow roses are her favorite flower. Red ones remind her of her mother, and remembering hurts.

While in hiding (4E 176-201), she's worked as a governess, a baker, a seamstress, a mercenary, and a number of other things. Her favorite by far was being a governess, when she was teaching magic theory to the children of a minor noble in Camlorn. She learned a lot from the Dominion that is actually useful in the right hands.

[scattered-winter]

oc ask game. what are each of their favorite colors (if they have one)?

I'm gonna ramble abt all 3 of my stories because :] I can :]

high fantasy ocs

akka's fav colors are red/orange/gold. I mean. go figure. she's a dragon she loves fiery colors :]

halo's fav color is silver!! he also likes really dark blue

vinali's favorite color is green

ether's favorite colors are purple and blue (he loves pretty much any color except pale lime green because. bad memories associated with that color <333)

orla's favorite colors are gold and red

kione's favorite color is green

superhero ocs

laylah's favorite color is dark green

nik's favorite colors are red and silver

kai's favorite color is blue

ari's favorite color is purple

tylissa's favorite color is Also purple, and she likes orange too

cassi's favorite color is yellow (she hates silver/metallic colors because of the bad memories associated with them)

hyde's favorite color is sky blue

fairy(?) fantasy ocs

rowan's favorite color is sunset orange

willow's favorite color is golden brown

sienna's favorite color is forest green

olive's favorite color is golden yellow

ash's favorite color is dark purple

[shivering-isles-cryptid]

Laylah Taj Aleasifa and Velentius Cosades relationship

I was laying in my bed, trying to go to sleep, when it hit me. Laylah and Velentius know each other. And so here’s their relationship.

They met in Pelagius’s mind when Laylah came to retrieve him from his vacation. He liked her so much, that after giving her the Wabbajack and returning to New Sheoth, he kept an eye on her.

He watched her for a bit before taking his old form and joining her on Nirn as a companion.

Laylah is a Daedra worshipper. Which is strange for a Redguard who was raised by Ebonarm followers.

She is highly devoted to Boethiah and Hircine, which may seem like a strange pairing, but it makes sense to her.

This leads to a strange relationship between Velentius and Laylah. Laylah worships 2 of Velentius’s brothers and friends, and Velentius is the brother/friend of Laylah’s patrons.

Laylah sometimes forgets this, especially when she finds a sleeping Velentius hanging off her dining table, which leads to her treating him like a regular person.

Vel absolutely adores Laylah, and whenever she forgets he’s a god, he loves her even more.

He treats her like a daughter and even gave her a room in the New Sheoth palace.

Not like she’d actually go to New Sheoth, but I digress.

He does feel sad around her. Seeing this strong and powerful Dragonborn cutting her way through draugr, and debating her way through politicians makes him think of the life Martin could have had.

When Laylah came across the Museum of the Mythic Dawn, she had to summon 3 Dremora and a Dark Seducer to keep Vel from burning it down.

When he found out she was hired to reforge the razor, that was the only time he has ever, ever, yelled at her.

It honestly terrified her.

When she told him how she refused to kill Sikhs and destroyed the shrine to Dagon, he started crying. He told her about the Oblivion Crisis from his point of view, and for the first time in 200 years, he told someone what happened in the Temple of the One. The true story, not what he told Ocato.

After this day, the two have never argued again. They may squabble like siblings, but they’ve never fought or yelled at each other.

Boethiah and Hircine are both very… reluctant. To allow their champion to be so close to the God of Madness, but he reassured them that he didn’t want her soul.

Besides, she was already Boethiah’s to claim, no matter what Hircine tried to say.

The two eventually decided that since they had each other, the Current hero of Tamriel, and the 2nd most famous hero of Tamriel, maybe they should go looking for the most famous hero of Tamriel.

So they went looking for the Nerevarine. And who knows whether they find her or not.

[tubatwo]

forgot to tag my last tyun scenario i am a dummy SORRRRYYYY read it here!

[shivering-isles-cryptid]

I understand fully well this is a post saying “Ralof had a shock because Amnesia Prisoner™️ turned out to be basically a Demigod” but I’m gonna take it as a fanfic prompt.

It has been six months. Six months since they were ambushed. Six months since they were sent to Helgen. Six months since the dragon. Six months since Ralof has seen her. She said that her name was Laylah, and Hadvar theorized she was a mercenary from Hamemrfell, not like she could disprove that theory as she had no memories from before Skyrim.

He took her to Gerdur, as she was a well established member of the hold who could potentially help them. And they stayed at Gerdurs house, Ralof and Laylah spending much of the night talking in hushed tones as to not wake the sleeping family. Heavy discussions of a past that Laylah couldn’t remember and a future Ralof couldn’t see led to light talks of poetry and art, which led to a heated kiss under the light of the moon and the eyes of Kyne.

And the next morning, she was gone. Ralof awoke that morning, guiding her through town to the forge and General Goods store, before wishing her good luck and goodbye in the middle of the bridge. Sometimes at night, he can still see the soft smile she gave him, the glowing amber of her eyes still sending shivers through his spine as the ghost warmth of her lips on his cheek burns.

He never saw her again after that. He stayed in Riverwood for 2 months, assisting at the mill before word reached them that Ulfric was alive. He made his way to Windhelm, wishing that she could join him on the journey. He arrived in Windhelm, snow crunching under his feet as he pushed open the gates. Thoughts of her still clouding his mind as his Jarl welcomed him back with a firm hug and shaky breath.

He fell back into his old routine, wake up, eat, train, patrol, eat, patrol, train, eat, sleep, repeat. This continued for 4 months, everyday being the same as always, and everyday was filled with thoughts of her. Questions as to where she was, what she was doing, if she remembered her past, if she remembered him.

He never heard from her again. But today, something changed. He finished his first patrol of the day, making his way to the Palace to eat his lunch, when he made a small stop at the Temple of Talos. The priest and priestess stood in front of the statue, talking amongst themselves. “You heard the rumors? Of Laylah the Redguard?” The priest asked Ralof as he approached the pair.

“Laylah? Thank the gods she’s still alive! I haven’t heard from her since we escaped Helgen.” Relief flowed through Ralofs body, causing him to ignore the surprised stares from the two priests. “You know the Dragonborn?!” The priestess exclaimed, her voice sounded as shocked as her face looked. “Wait, Dragonborn? There’s has to be a mistake. Laylah’s not Dragonborn, she’s a just a Redguard with amnesia.” Ralof insisted, shaking his head at the two.

“Well, that Amnesiac Redguard killed 5 dragons with her bare hands and sucked the souls right from their bodies.” The priest insisted, nodding his head and handing Ralof a paper. His eyes scanned the sheet, he recognized the words but they made no sense. Laylah, the amnesiac Redguard who was scared of attacking blood thirsty Imperials and tried to tame Frostbite Spiders, who insisted on helping Camilla with her boy problems, who stayed up all night confiding in Ralof about her memory troubles, she was Dragonborn.

It was one week later when he saw her again. He sat at the table in the dining hall, his dinner barely touched as his mind was still plagued with thoughts of Laylah and the Dragonborn Prophecy. He barely registered the new person in the room until Ulfrics voice boomed throughout the hall. “Dragonborn! It is an honor and privilege to be in your presence!” Ralof looked up, barely recognizing the woman who stood before him.

Her black hair, once matted and oily, not wavy and brushed, pulled into a loose braid on her back. Her once dirty skin, now freshly washed and looked to be softer than cotton. Her clothes, which were simple farmers garb when she left, were now the apparel of a warrior, the ebony chest plate sparkling like the midnight sky, and her blood red cloak blew behind her in the winter wind from the open doors.

Her two blade were sheathed on her back, alone with a long bow that appeared to be carved from bone and a quiver of ebony arrows. The woman behind her wore steel armor, and had a great sword on her back, you could tell she was a true Nord warrior and her eyes held nothing but reverence for Laylah.

The only thing that remained from when they met were her eyes. The molten amber glowing in the firelight, just like they were before they made it into the fort, just like they were when she leaned into Ralof, her lips brushing against his.

He stood from the table, the seat scratching against the stone floor and falling behind him. Her eyes widened in recognition, a smile growing on her face as they rushed to each other. The following embrace left the room silent, the only sound being the crackling of flames and the beating of their hearts. “It’s been so long.” Laylah whispered, her voice shaky. “I went back to Riverwood, but Gerdur said you left and I was so scared for you, but I got pulled into a prophecy before I could come here.”

Ralof just shook his head and squeezed harder before pulling away and looking at her. “So what’s this business about you being the savior of Skyrim?”

Imagine you escape a burning city with this person who has no memories and was in patches and rags. You take them to your hometown because you can always count on your older sister. After which your new friend has to go to a different city, and you don't see them again for a bit.

And then you hear their name again and you perk right up! You'd love to see them again! And someone informs you that your friend is Jesus.

[wkyarts51243]

I just need one good reason

Uriel has always hated demons and absolutely does not support Charlie's idea, nor does he understand why his sister supports Charlie's project so much.

laylah always tries to convince her brother to be more open to the idea of rehabilitate sinners but even she loses hope

🙏I hope you enjoy the art, please share 🙏

#hazbinhotel #hazbinhoteloc #helluvabossoc #helluvaboss #hazbinhoteluriel #helluvabossart #vivziepop #hazbinhotelart #hazbinhotellaylah helluvabossart

[stvolanis]

summer lovin’

PAIRINGS: JJ Maybank x priests daughter!OC

WARNINGS: foul language, religious imagery, unestablished relationship, JJ being JJ, mentions of marriage

NSFW WARNINGS: loss of virginity, fingering, slight degradation, praise, pet names, biting, marking, overall cutesy sex

The heat was getting to JJ Maybank in more ways than one.

It started when his friend, who’s name he had no interest in remembering at a bonfire he attended with the rest of his friends, bet that he wouldn’t be able to fuck the priests daughter. Poor JJ didn’t even know who in the hell she was.

She was homeschooled, didn’t go to any parties and was rarely seen in town; having had all her food necessities at her little home-grown farm she lived on somewhere on figure eight. The only place people seen the jewel was every Sunday and Wednesday, bright and early, attending the local church’s 8AM service.

Now, jj by no means was a church man, but when this bet was laid upon him, best believe he was there bright and early in his best button up shirt, that just so happened to be his only button up shirt. His pants, perfectly starched to a crisp, and a cross pendant hung off of his necklace. The whole get-up, all for the priests daughter.

He was taken aback when he seen her for the first time. She was so different. Different form any of the other women he had ever met or seen on TV.

She was a small little thing. Dark brown hair braided with small pink ribbons on the end, and wispy bangs framed her porcelain-like face. Her eyes were a bright green, and if you were lucky, you’d be able to see them when they weren’t staring at her feet as if they were the most entertaining things she’d ever seen.

Her skin was pale, yet her face was scattered with disoriented freckles, almost from head to toe. Freckles covered her forehead to her nose, to her cheeks, down her neck and onto her shoulders that were revealed by her flowy sundress.

She followed her father around the busy church like a lost puppy, who had her mother hanging off of his arm like a proud trophy. Laylah, the priests daughter JJ was now so infatuated  with, only spoken when she was spoken to, and hid behind her family like the plague was near and out to get her.

He noticed that she played with the flowery rings on her finger when she was nervous, or when she grew bored from her parents talking to random, faceless people for too long. He’d watch Laylah tap her feet on the wood tile beneath her, creating a sense of beat before her father lightheartedly scolded her for being too loud, to which she’d mutter a small apology.

Laylah’s mother, who’s name was Christine, just so happened to be a part of Popes moms’ book club. JJ heard Mrs.Heyward call her christy when they’d laugh over tea, showing a sign of some familiarity. JJ was sure to intervene in Mrs.Heywards book club, much to Popes annoyance as he knew what was going on, with this new found knowledge if it meant getting closer to Laylah.

Laylah, on the other hand, had heard tales of JJ Maybank. All of them filled with vile rumors, yet nothing could have prepared her for the man that stood across the room so confidently.

His skin was tanned, probably from all the surfing he did when the waves were just right. She wondered if every man from the cut was as pretty as him. She shook her head from the thought with a blush coating her cheeks.

His hair was blonde, and messily grown out—yet it suited him. A strand fell onto his forehead, and her hand itched to reach up and fix it, but she knew she couldn’t. She’d never hear the end of it from either of her parents.

“That boy is such trouble, nowadays.” Her mother, Christine, would say at the dinner table. “Yknow, I heard he was caught stealing from the fish-mart, Isn’t that absurd?” She’d gossip to her husband, who nodded his head absent mindedly as he stared at his news paper. Laylah would just roll her green eyes.

JJ wasn’t an idiot. He knew when he was being eye fucked, so it was no surprise when that cocky smirk of his pulled at his lips when he caught her red handed eyeing him from head to toe.

He was aware of the female attention. Used to it, even—as cocky as it sounded. A quick fuck was all they ever were to him, and that’s all they’d ever stay. No one had ever come close to catching his interest, and JJ wanted to keep it that way, but you were making it so unbelievably hard for him.

He knew he’d have to settle down one day, but he had always dreaded the idea. Surprisingly enough, not because he’d have to be loyal, but because of the sheer commitment. He’d make a lousy, controlling, jealousy and possessive boyfriend…imagine how’d he’d be if he became someone’s fucking husband.

Laylah was different from the women who he was used to having one night stands with, and he he could tell this without even having to approach her.

She was sweet, pretty, quiet, innocent and obedient—but obedient in a way where he felt like she bit back her tongue a lot. Like she had a lot on her mind, but her voice was too weak to be heard. She was always expected to listen and do her school work at home, and do the chores her father assigned, but she longed to be a teenager.

She longed to go out and have fun, meet people and actually have friends. JJ knew she’d love the rest of the pogues, and she’d fit in just right. Laylah wanted to party, and maybe even drink. Maybe even meet a boy or a girl who peaked her interest—but she knew she never could. She laughed at the idea in her head. How silly of her to think such things?

This was her life. Being the priests quiet, obedient daughter.

JJ was like a breath of fresh air, as she was to him, too. They lived two completely different lives in two completely different worlds that finally decided to collide on the outskirts of a warn-down church.

When he watched her walk outside, he knew he’d be stupid not to follow suit.

She sat on the steps of walk way leading up to the church, and he watched like a creep as she pulled out a bubble-gun lollipop from her bag and stuff it into her mouth with a sigh. JJ smiled before making himself known by taking a seat next to her.

Her mouth fell agape for a moment, like a fish out of water. She didn’t know what she should say, or what she should do. Maybe she should run back inside, or run for the hills? No, that couldn’t be right. This wasn’t right. But it felt like it was.

“You’re a cute little thing, aren’t ya?” He chuckled out, fishing out one of his joints from his back pocket. She gawked as she watched him light it, bringing it to his mouth and taking an easy puff right outside the steps of Gods house.

“I-I’m not supposed to talk to you.” She admitted, looking down at the lollipop that embarrassing had fallen out of her mouth when she was gawking at him. He smiled, almost knowingly. “Whys that?” He asked, though he already knew the answer.

“You’re a bad man, JJ. That’s what my momma said.” Laylah spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. JJ grabbed his shirt covered chest, feigning pain. “Ouch. Broke my cold heart, baby.” He said, smiling when he saw a ghost of a smile paint her pretty lips.

“You don’t seem bad.” She said after a while of silence, glancing over at him. He shook his head. “I’m the worst.” He admitted, though lightheartedly. She hummed in acknowledgement. “I think I’ll decide that for myself, mister.”

JJ smiled.

From that point on JJ Maybank was completely enraptured with the small girl.

He made sure to come to church every Sunday bright and early just to be able to see her, and when no one was looking, the two of them would sneak out and talk till the service was over and she had to leave with her parents.

She learned that the rumors of JJ being a thief were half-heartedly true. He admitted that he had stolen a few things here and there, but only when he really needed to. He trusted you enough to know about his troubles at home, and how stealing was the only way to make sure he was able to live comfortably.

Of course, it upset her. She hated that he had to go through what he did, and she knew he deserved better than what life had dealt him. She was glad he didn’t try to sugar coat it like everyone else seemed to when they spoke to her. Everyone treated Laylah like she was a child, and she just had to take it.

But JJ—he made her feel like a woman.

He listened to her when no one else cared to, and he comforted her in his own odd way with understanding. She didn’t talk much, but when she did, he listened to ever honey-covered word that slipped past her plump lips like they were law. He clung to every sentence, and every laugh.

He wanted to know how many more laughs she had. Besides her usual giggle, he wanted to count them all. He wanted to know what made her upset, and what kept her up at night. He wanted to scare every bad thing away. Chase away her worries and woes, just to see that smile he grew to adore so much.

What was once a bet was turning into so much more, and JJ didn’t know how to feel about it. He wasn’t used to the feeling of caring for someone ever since his mom. He didn’t want to hurt her, like he seemed to hurt everyone else. She was delicate and sensitive, and like Christine said, he was a bad man. No good for a girl like Laylah Moore.

Fear consumed JJ at one point when he caught himself daydreaming about a life he didn’t know he’d enjoy while in the middle of class.

The thought of coming home to Laylah after a hard day. The house smelling of his favorite food, roasting warm in the oven. She’d turn around with a sweet smile one her face, kissing all over him while letting out little “I missed yous” and “how was work?”. He could picture himself wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as they swayed together, a slow song playing in the background.

He shook himself from the thought with furrowed brows. it was unfair. All of it. He knew she would never be able to be with a man like him—and it was a thought he’d have to shake out of his head.

But till you realized that, he’d have her in every way he could.

So there the both of them were, sat snug on Laylah’s pink sheets. Her legs were spread and trembling as JJs fingers slipped past the band of her underwear, working at her sensitive bud. His fingers teased at her entrance as her hand gripped on to his upper arm; nails digging into his muscle when he entered her knuckles deep.

Her mouth hung agape as wayward moans fell from her lips that were swollen from JJs relentless attacks on them. “Shh, honey. Know it feels good, but y’gotta be quiet, mama.” He cooed as he curled his finger, making her walls clamp around his fingers.

“Don’t want your daddy to find out that his daughters a whore for pogue dick, hm?” He mocked, his free hand coming up to wrap around the base of your throat tightly. Laylah whimpered, biting down on her lips to suppress her moans.

“Can I stuff this pretty pussy, baby? Hm? Want my cock to fill you up?” He asked, his breath leveled with your ear. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her head way thrown back onto his shoulder as she felt her end near. “S’wrong, JJ! have to wait f’marriage.” She slurred.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Gonna marry you anyway, pretty baby.” He said, not realizing what he said till Laylah’s doe eyes peered up at him. “Really, JJ?” She asked with hopeful eyes.

Fuck. How could he say no now?

“Course, s’long as you let me use this cunt whenever I want.” He replied, kissing the side of her cheek sloppily. Her bottom lip sat snug between her teeth, deep in thought. JJs fingers had long slipped away from her pussy, and his fingers that were still coated in her slick tenderly rubbed at her thighs.

“S’gonna hurt. That’s what my friend told me.” She muttered, doubts creased into a frown. JJ rolled his eyes. “Just gonna hurt for a second. It’ll feel good right after, promise.” He reassured. God he wanted to beat up the stupid friend who told her that. Making his life harder than it needed to be.

“Pinky promise, JJ?” She asked, holding out her manicured pinky. His interlocked with hers, and in a flash, JJs cock was aligned with her entrance—her juices spilling over and acting as a lubricant as he slid his cock between her folds.

His chest swelled with pride as he watched the way her eyes never left his cock, almost frightened. “Too big, JJ. S’not gonna fit.” She said, shaking her head back and forth. “I’ll fuckin’ make it fit.” He huffed out.

His fat tip prodded at Laylah’s entrance, teasingly almost before he plunged his cock inside of her with one harsh thrust. Her eyes widened and tears pricked her eyes as the stinging pain in her lower region began to become too much. It felt like she was being torn in half. “Take it out, JJ! Hurts too bad!” She cried out.

He wiped the tears from her eyes, kissing her trembling lips. “I know, shh, I know. Just give it a second, yeah? It’s okay, baby. I got you.” He whispered, kissing anywhere his lips could reach to distract her from the pain. She clung onto him; her nails digging into his back. A trophy he’d later wear when he goes out surfing with his friends.

His cock sat inside of her, and she could feel the twitch of his cock, and the way he pulsed inside of her. God, it took him everything in him to not start fucking her into oblivion. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that he knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it, and he didn’t want to further hurt her.

So, he waited. And as soon as she breathed out a small whimper that sounded more of pleasure than pain, he slowly began to rock his hips into her. “See? S’not that bad, pretty baby.” He grunted out, throwing her legs over his shoulders and wrapping his arms around her thighs tightly.

Her mind felt fuzzy with bliss as his tip kissed her cervix. Her hand reached to cup the side of JJs cheek, and he froze for just a moment. Her touch was tender, and so fucking full of love. The love he craved but was to afraid to accept. But he’d accept it for her. He’d do anything for her.

He melted into her touch, and his lips crashed down onto hers as he began to pick up his pace again. Their lips molded together perfectly, and nothing could prepare JJ for the words that slipped past her lips next. “I love you.” She said, but it was barely above a whisper.

He didn’t hesitate with his response. “I love you too.” He said, digging his face into the crook of her neck, planting a soft kiss. Laylah’s hands tangled in his hair as her legs wrapped around his waist, securing his position inside of her as she felt her stomach tighten.

“I feel weird, JJ.” She moaned, her head lulled to the side as he smothered her neck with kisses, and laid fresh hickies on her breasts. “Just let it go, baby. Squirt f’me. Know you can, baby, give it to me.” He moaned out against her, his thumb traveling down to play with her clit.

“O-Oh God!” She moaned out, the grip she had on his hair slightly tightening, almost painfully, but JJ didn’t care. He rather enjoyed it. “Not God, sweetheart. Me. Say it. Say my fuckin’ name.” He urged, biting down on her nipple painfully.

“JJ!” She moaned out again and again like it was a prayer, but was muffled by his hand clasping around her mouth to quiet her noises. She was wrapped so tightly around him, and he just barely managed to pull out when he reached his peak.

JJ’s cum painted across Laylah’s lower stomach, almost beautifully against her pale skin. Her chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace as she watched JJ jerk himself off a few more times, his cock releasing a few more drops from his mushroom tip.

He looked so pretty like this. Mouth hung open as he panted, and the small mound of blonde hair that sat atop his cock was drenched in her fluids. His hair matted to his forehead from sweat, and that boyish smile dancing on his face as he moved the hair out of her face.

It felt right now. Laylah was no longer ashamed of her feelings, nor was she afraid of what figure eight would say when she would bring JJ along with her as a personal plus one at an important meeting of her mothers.

Before, she was living, yet she never really felt alive. She drug herself out day by day, like an endless cycle of disparity and orders. She hated getting out of bed, as there was never anything for her to look forward to throughout the day. Nothing to keep her going. She was just there.

And as she laid on top of his chest, tracing stars over the muscle of his arm, she felt content. she felt happy. She felt free. And most of all, she felt alive.

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[iapetusneume]

Director's Cut: Making A Believer

So, first one of these. Doing this one first because @chemos-factories was the first person to respond to my poll in the Discord Server. Also, I was helped along by that meme of so many people in the fandom not understanding how nuanced a character Fulgrim is, and I got feelings.

First off, the link to Ao3 and the summary.

Making A Believer

The Poet of Charoite is known to worshipers of Chaos as one of the most prolific poets to write about Daemon Prince Fulgrim. His poetry is considered sacred, copied and passed from cultist to cultist. So devoted was he, that he is sometimes known is the Poet of Fulgrim. It's even said he assisted with the Great Uprising of the Veil - when a Hive City tore a hole between the materium and the immaterium. And though specific details are lost to time, Fulgrim remembers when the Poet was a worker in a quarry.

Featuring an Original Human Character, and Daemon Prince Fulgrim

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So, let's start off with some of the basics! I really love what I did with this story. I was a bit experimental with this, and I'm not sure if that's part of the reason it's my lowest kudo'ed 40k fic, or the one with the lowest hits. Maybe it's because the POV character is an OC. I'm not sure.

And if I'm going to compare apples to apples, I don't really have much else to compare it to. I don't really have any other fics that are "an OC plus a primarch."

But I should also remember that hits/kudos/comments/bookmarks/etc are not indicative of quality. I'm very proud of the story. So let's get into it.

This fic was part of the Fic In A Box 2023 challenge. For those not in the know, it's a challenge for someone to write 10k words (or comparable in other media forms) content. The twist is, it doesn't have to be for one person.

I won't get into the specifics on how the mechanics worked for being given assignments, but I essentially had my "main" assignment, and then I had the option to trade for assignments for other people. I think there were 6 or 7 of us from 40k participating? Anyways. My main assignment was for Laylah, and I decided that I was going to write them two separate stories. Both of them were highly experimental. (The other one was The Great Lunar Height of [REDACTED].)

When looking over the collection of prompts they provided, there had been an interest in scripture for Chaos, and also a love of Fulgrim (among many other prompts).

The interest in scripture was my starting point for brainstorming.

Now, once upon a time I was a very religious person. I'm not sure if I would call myself agnostic or atheist now or what, but I had once been so dedicated that I had seriously considered going into ministry. I've done a lot of study on the Bible, and I also really enjoy reading religious texts from other religions. I enjoy reading mythologies, both ones created from existing world cultures, and the ones created for fictional settings. I've been this way since I was very little.

And so often, scripture has poetry in it. Psalms if the longest book in the Bible, and it is a book of poetry. Poetry is also intrinsically connected to hymns, since poetry is so often connected to music. And... when the poets were writing those psalms, they weren't thinking that they were going to become scripture. They wrote it because they were inspired.

Ok, cool. So let's have someone write a poem. Let's have someone write a poem about Daemon Primarch Fulgrim.

How does one even start that?

To understand how I got the start of The Poet and his life, we must back up.

When I had been plotting out my stories for Laylah, I had originally considered trying to write this disjointed "found" series of stories that follow an OC Thousand Son and OC Word Bearer try to unravel a mystery. Essentially, there is a planet that has some Weird Warp Shit going on, and they'd like to figure out how to encourage this phenomena in other places in the galaxy. The idea being very much about Resource Management, and if they can save some of their resources for something else by utilizing this, they should do it.

I feel like that makes it sound very boring. But, essentially, a planet fell to Chaos greatly helped by the natural phenomena that Chaos was able to take advantage of. The TS and WB are trying to backwards-engineer what happened.

"The Great Lunar Heist of [REDACTED]" takes place on the same world, at least 500 or so years before "Making A Believer." The log of the event is one of the pieces of "evidence" that the TS and WB find. The fic itself doesn't say Warp Shenanigans happened, but Warp Shenanigans absolutely happened. But that's a different discussion.

So. This is an undetermined time in the future. The Horus Heresy has happened and concluded. The Loyalist Primarchs are either dead or missing.

And life on this planet has also changed. The Imperium, being the parasite that it is, is leeching all the value that can be taken from this planet. The Poet works in a Quarry, and there's a lot of mining being done.

Fulgrim, while looking for ways to extend his (and Slaanesh's) influence, naturally gravitates to something familiar. Having grown up in the mines on Chemos, this planet is not that different. I don't think that Fulgrim noticed the "strangeness" that I had planned for this planet to eventually fall to and go after that specifically. It was more, he saw an opportunity, and went for it.

"Charoite" is a stone that has purple in it, but isn't a precious stone. It also made sense that it could be something easily missed as a pretty stone, if it was covered in dust. I wondered about how much Fulgrim would have looked for pretty non-precious stones as a child, and very carefully cleaning them to appreciate their colors.

So he uses these as his calling cards. I leaned hard on ideas of the Fae, because Fae are also so very prone to Excess.

I decided that I didn't want to just show some of the poetry that the Poet wrote - stuff that would eventually become scripture - but also what happened to him to get there.

I wanted to see if I could write something that reads like a horror story, but it doesn't feel like a horror story to the person it's happening to.

So, the Poet dreams of beauty, even before picking up the Charoite. He has spider plants in his studio apartment. He wants to give extras to his neighbors. His world is greys and browns but the spider plants are vibrant green. He trades for scraps of fancy soaps and uses those sparingly. (To be clear, there is other soap for him to use when he's not splurging. It's just not as nice.)

What does excess look to someone who has so little? It's it excessive to have enough?

And that's part of the horror too. Fulgrim is barely using his power to give these things to the Poet. He's giving the Poet a chance to rest. He's giving him nutrition. He's giving him someone to talk to. He's giving him a chance to enjoy art. He's giving him a chance to make art.

And I'm not gonna lie, I put a bit of myself into the Poet, in his exhaustion and struggle to create. How many days I'll finish my shift and just be so weary and barely able to do anything. Maybe if I'm lucky I can chat with my wives or my friends online.

The Poet doesn't know who Fulgrim is, at least in this story. He doesn't know he's a primarch, doesn't know about Chaos. He can sense immediately that he's royalty, but that is also because he knows how to read a room. The Poet is sensitive to supernatural things in ways he doesn't understand, which he's also picking up on. He doesn't understand why this is happening, but this dream is so beautiful, he wants to go along as long as he can.

As for writing this, I'm also not a huge fan of painting things in Black and White. 40k is an extended scathing criticism of the British Empire and the Catholic Church. 40k is a setting where there are no "good guys."

I was trying to show a more positive look at Chaos. More like, "yes he fell, but he's happy?" Or also, if Fulgrim is Evil with a Capital E, that doesn't mean he can't love people. It doesn't mean he can't be kind to (some) people. He can play favorites. It doesn't mean that the Poet doesn't get a happy ending.

Because, he does. Or, at least, he will. He'll get to stay by his Prince's side for all eternity.

The Poet starts to fall to Chaos here. And he's not worried, because Fulgrim is there to catch him when he falls.

And that's exactly what Fulgrim does.

I also wanted to play around with the idea that something Chaos is needed to make life better. Hinting at Fulgrim's role as a union organizer. How the Poet has no idea how hard Fulgrim had to fight for everything he had.

If I eventually get around to writing the larger series, the Poet is an important part of the planet falling to Chaos. He starts spreading his poetry for others to find. And he will eventually become a daemon of Slaanesh.

It's both a horror story and a story of hope.

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...and this got super fucking long. I have a lot of feelings about it. If I could change one thing, it would be the summary. I'm still not happy with it, but I don't know how to better describe the story.

(Please let me know if you have any questions, about this story or any others!)

[shivering-isles-cryptid]

My phone autocorrects my OCs name to. Turns Laylah into Layla or Lay low. Which makes no sense since Laylah is a pretty common spelling of a real name🤷‍♂️

Autocorrect in my phone likes to change Leara to Leads, Learn, or Keara. Because duh.