#NARILAMB POST REAL!

[voidvendetta]

Date night!

I asked my friend what do draw lambert in and they sent me this jencuenfuenduenduenduenduenduned

#Pretty happy with how I drew them here! Sadly it’s also one of the worst things I’ve drawn #PLEASE CLICK TUMBLR!S QUALITY….IS OUT TO GET ME #cotl #cult of the lamb #narilamb #NARILAMB POST REAL! #true devotion #Narinder x the lamb #Lambert #cult of the lamb lambert #cotl lambert #cotl narinder #Void’s art #Shitpost #shartpost #void’s doodle of destruction #Void’s colors of chaos #Narinder

[amimuu]

“Dream logic.”

Guilt can sometimes find some very interesting ways to manifest itself in.

Listen. So if you were to ask me what in the scallop is even going on in this comic…I don’t know either—I passed out and four hours later this was on my screen with a blurry effect to make emphasis on the “dreamy” vibes.

STILLLL THATS a lie because I do know what’s happening. I present to you: pre-story VTA!Narinder being bullied by a dream version of the Lamb….it must be quite the experience to see the face of your devoted vessel whom you killed in cold blood every time you try to get some shut eye because sleeping is kind of the only thing you can do when you got no one to spend time with, huh.

If you wonder what’s up with the Lamb’s extravagant outfit, that’s simply the clothing they put on the day they died. And so the form that their dream self chooses to manifest itself in.

Y’know when it’s the day of your death but also the day your god whom you love more than anything will be liberated and you’ll finally be able to rest…in some way it could count as the “happiest day of your life” which is also another way to call your wedding day…ykyk

Anyways I am sorta falling asleep so I’ll be leaving this here and going to bed— Until next time!

#vows to ash au #cult of the lamb #cotl comic #cotl au #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #narilamb #true devotion #I think out of all my posts #this is the most narilamb one #frfr #boy the parallels between being sacrificed and getting married #do you see them #probably not and it’s just a me thing— #but they are real in VTA au

[payasita]

cat bones

baddabing badaboom

flats

#cult of the lamb #cotl #doodles #narilamb #flats under the cut because theyre cuter but i felt like painting today #listen i wish i could say these were inspired by a real cat #but really i just was in that exact second pose off the side of my bed today for a hot minute before the dogs came to check if i was okay #if u can find the cat picture i referenced on google for that first one i'll post a Secret Stupid Cat Pose that i decided not to finish

[bamsara]

The Rehabilitation of Death

Chapter 5: Of Silliness and Scythes

Narinder continues to dream, unfortunately.

Rumors continue to circulate about the strange demonic cat as the God of Death stays isolated, and Lambert has lunch at his doorstep while the two discuss a certain demonic fox.

Where the lamb rushes headfirst into battle, Narinder, like most cats, prefers to hunt, stalk, and ambush. A tactic that he uses well on the lamb in his own way, all the way into a pocket dimension that smells like bird, and where a godly item sits inconspicuously on a podium. A new ability is gained. Nothing huge, but progress.

A rather unethical experiment is conducted by Narinder so he may know why he feels the deaths (or near-deaths) of the flock's followers, but not for the enemies in the wilds. Lambert's own forgetfulness puts a pause on a crusade that had already gone for days longer than it should have been. His tolerance is running out, and his tongue wags when he's tired.

His patience is rewarded with a weapon that looks suspiciously like one he used to carry before all went to hell.

Chapter Wordcount: 15,032 | Read tags and Warnings. Thank you for reading!

#writings #TROD au #the rehabilitation of death #narilamb #cult of the lamb #posting this and then disappearing into thin air real quick

[checkplzjuliet]

The Lamb: The One Who Waits.... The Lamb: For my hand in marriage.

#text post #cult of the lamb #cotl #narilamb #true devotion #incorrect quotes #lord in waiting (real)

[dulciechi]

Narilamb but it’s Witness Lamb x Bishop Narinder bc Lamb deserves to show off their giant goth god bf 😌

More rambles below:

Lamb is called Witness Apollyon in this AU. I know the other Witnesses are named after Dukes of Hell, but I saw the name in a Reddit post and I fell in love with it before I discovered the naming scheme.

Their eldritch form is meant to be small and cute bc I find the idea of a glorified cotton ball kicking all the other Witnesses’ asses hilarious.

Nari starts off indulging Apollyon’s affections because he finds them amusing (plus their devotion output puts everyone else to shame), but he will develop real feelings after the whole exile thing happens

I got more but I’ll put them along with the other sketches ^^ I had to finally stop and let my wrist rest

#cult of the lamb #narilamb #cotl #cotl fanart #true devotion #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #cotl the one who waits #cult of the lamb fanart #fandom #my art #witness au

[biomycelium]

man 3 art posts within likeeee a few hours?? my body physically won’t let me stop drawing this is my own personal hell UGHHHH

I rlly enjoyed reading all the tags on my initial narilamb post! the headcanons and silly ideas y’all have been giving me ARE SCRUMPTIOUSSS

I do like the idea of an inexperienced Nari. I mean, how can Death himself waste his time on such a pathetic, worthless thing?

It doesn’t mean he’d waste the opportunity to mingle when given to him, however! Before he was ultimately defeated, I like to believe that Nari was actually the more dominant/flirtatious of the two, having not so much room for choice in company to start— why shouldn’t his vessel suffice temporarily?

The lamb would be flattered, albeit intimidated by the attention:

AFTER HOWEVER, his lack of power and real inexperience in love makes him the lesser of the two, and ultimately the tables are incredibly reversed once his status of a god is stripped away.

If there’s any grammar errors eat my shorts it’s gonna be 3 am and I have work in 5 hours

#notice the change in art style w every post #I seriously need consistency #BUT #I LOVE THESE TWO #SO MUCH #cult of the lamb #cotl lamb #cotl fanart #cotl narinder #narilamb #I love giving my baby murder mittens

[alllgator-blood]

Knowing your narinder, I feel like your version of narilamb (if it even exists) is just narinder being convinced the lamb loves him, because who wouldn't love him

MY TOWN'S INTERNET CONNECTION IS GOING IN AND OUT SO I'VE BEEN TRYING TO POST THIS ALL DAY. I literally have to leave for the airport in less than an hour and suddenly the wifi is back

I'll be real I never put much thought into narilamb before this ask but this is the BEST approach I've seen to it actually, I laughed out loud when I first got this. Everything I do is driven by the thought process of "would this be funny?" so THIS IS HOW NARILAMB WORKS IN MY ART NOW. The lamb does not give a flying fuck about narinder and just wants to usurp him asap for that red crown swag, meanwhile narinder is like YEOWCH!! SO SPICY! IT'S A SHAME YOU'RE SECRETLY IN LOVE WITH ME CAUSE I'LL NEVER LOVE YOU BACK </3

Aym and baal can't even fathom how narinder is 100% convinced everyone loves him dearly. So they just sit there watching the lamb grow more powerful by the day and don't know how to break the news that narinder is proooooobably making a mistake trusting them. I should come up with a lore reason for why my pre-purgatory narinder is just like an angsty emo boy who was pretty down to earth, then just became a cartoonishly egotistical prick during his life sentence LMAO

#cult of the lamb #the one who waits #narinder #aym and baal #lambert

[thewitchoftheweed]

Candles in the Dark

The President of Narilamb, @furrycultfunnytime, has declared it to be Narilamb Day! Which means I’ve got an excuse to post this drabble instead of working on Red Star! 

This work is now part of a multi-chapter fic on AO3!

CWs for: PTSD, panic attacks/nightmares, derealization, mentions of past hallucinations and delusions.  

“Hey, I was thinking,” The Lamb says, trying to sound casual. “Why don’t you sleep in here tonight?”

Narinder pauses. He’s still sitting beside them in their bed, about to slip his robe back over his head. Over the past few weeks, they’ve settled into a routine. Narinder comes to visit them at their hut after dinner and sermon; they get intimate in some form or fashion, then Narinder leaves to go sleep in his own hut. They have tried on occasion to coax him into staying, but this is the first time they’ve asked directly. They feel oddly nervous as the question hangs in the air. Out there, amongst the cult, they’re the Lamb; but in here, with Narinder, they’re just Hamal.

“…I wouldn’t want to disturb you,” Narinder says after a long moment. 

“You won’t disturb me, Nari.” Hamal wraps their arms around his torso and sets their chin on his shoulder. His fur smells like sex and sheep; they take odd satisfaction in that. “I don’t even really need to sleep; I just do it for fun. But it’s up to you.” They smile and nuzzle their face into his neck. “Nice warm cuddles or a long, cold journey back to your own bed…”

Narinder sighs, amused and exasperated at the same time. “Your eyes are entirely too big and too brown. It makes it difficult to say no to you.”

“You’re not even looking at me,” they laugh. Hamal can’t help it; their tail starts to wag. 

“Mhm, but I can feel them,” he says, tilting his head towards them. They smile and pepper his cheek with light kisses, playfully trying to seal the deal. Narinder laughs softly. “Alright, alright. Mercy. I’ll stay.” 

They let out an undignified happy bleat and squeeze him close. He tosses his robe back onto the floor. Hamal scoots to the side to make more room, then lies down with their heart fluttering in their chest. Narinder curls up with them; he rests his head on their chest and twines his tail around their leg. They wrap their arms around the black cat and snuggle close. He begins to purr. Hamal is convinced there’s some magic hidden in that soft reverberation; it makes even a god drift off to sleep in record time. 

It’s warm underneath the blankets, especially with Narinder there. The low-burning candles cast one last burst of orange light onto the hut’s walls before they fade like a setting sun. Narinder’s purr begins to shift into a soft snore. They smile, close their eyes, and follow him into sleep.

When Hamal wakes again, it’s still dark out. They blink wearily and contemplate going right back to sleep, unsure what roused them to begin with. Then they feel it: Narinder twitches, so hard it’s like a full-body flinch. He’s still curled up against them, but every muscle is suddenly tense. His claws dig into their wool, holding on as though for life itself. He’s breathing hard. 

“Nari…?” they say softly. Their hand hovers over his shoulder. Should they try to wake him? 

Before they can decide, he screams. 

Hamal tries not to flinch, but it’s so sudden and so loud they can’t help it. The movement wakes Narinder. He jolts upward, then claws and kicks off the blankets like they’re trying to suffocate him. He looks around, eyes wild, chest heaving. Hamal sits up, feeling nearly as scared and startled as Narinder looks. His red eyes scan the room, as if looking for something. 

“Not real…” Narinder pants. He closes his eyes and cradles his head in his hands, claws digging into his own scalp. “Stop it stop it stop it, not real not real not real—”

“Nari, what’s going on?” He doesn’t answer them, but his ears flatten against the top of his head. His entire body trembles and he keeps muttering to himself. They don’t know what else to do, so they reach over and set a hand on his shoulder. “Nari, look at me, please.”

He tenses as they touch him, but it seems to break the strange trance. Narinder lowers his hands, no longer trying to hide his face, and slowly turns to look at them. There are tears in his eyes, along with something else they’ve never seen in Narinder: sheer terror. It takes them completely off-guard. Hamal aches to pull him into a hug and reassure him, but he’s shaking so badly they’re afraid one wrong move will make whatever this is significantly worse. 

After a long moment, he asks, voice small and strained, “Is this real?” 

“What? Of course it is,” Hamal says. But Narinder doesn’t look convinced. They suddenly remember what he said to them when they first laid together, when he fell asleep beside them in the woods: “It can be difficult for me to tell the difference between dream and reality when I first wake.” Hamal supposes that nightmares are even worse in that respect. 

After a moment of him just staring at them, tearful and terrified, Hamal can’t stand it anymore. They reach out and gently grab one of his hands. They pull it toward them and set it on their wool. “Here, feel this. Real, genuine wool. Can’t get that just anywhere, these days.” 

His fingers curl into the wool, as though testing to see if it’s really there. Narinder’s breath starts to slow down. Encouraged, they grab his other hand and set it on their own cheek. “It’s me, Hamal. Your Lamb. Remember?” 

Narinder’s hands are still shaking, but he’s calming down. He no longer looks terrified of them, at least. His thumb traces the curve of their jaw. “My Lamb.” 

“See?” They smile. “You’re ok. I’m right here; I’m real.” 

He goes on staring at them. 

Hamal sighs, their hands dropping back into their own lap. The fear is gone, but there’s confusion in Narinder’s eyes. Like Hamal is speaking a language he doesn’t understand, but he’s trying to. He’s there with them, but part of him is still lodged somewhere in the nightmare. They try to think of something to say, something profound, something that will convince him this is real. 

Instead they blurt out, “I changed the whole hut so you would want to sleepover with me.” 

Narinder blinks. “…what?”

“You kept dodging it every time I hinted you could stay the night, so I thought you didn’t like something about the hut.” In retrospect, it’s a bit silly. Narinder typically has no problem telling them when something isn’t cleaned to his standards or suited to his tastes. “I did it a little bit at a time so you wouldn’t notice I was doing it.” 

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face. “Like what?” 

“This was straw. Now it’s a featherbed.” They pat the mattress beneath them. 

Narinder’s eyes follow their hand. He runs his own palm across the fabric. “…I thought I tore a hole in the old one.”

“I mean, a couple, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t mend. But then I thought, hey, I’m a god. Why not?” Hamal seems to have captured his attention, if nothing else. They keep going. “I also got a shitload of candles. An embarrassing amount, actually.” 

That earns a real smile. It’s a small one, but it’s genuine and wholly Narinder. “How many is an ‘embarrassing amount candles’?”

“Do you really want to know?” Hamal asks. 

He looks them up and down, skeptically. “…yes?”

They heave a sigh. Without another word, they hop off the bed and kneel beside it. Hamal reaches underneath and pulls out two boxes of a dozen plain beeswax candles, neatly stacked on top of each other. 

“That isn’t so bad,” Narinder says.

They hold up a hand, indicating for him to wait, then pull out the other six boxes also stored beneath the bed. Narinder’s bewildered smile becomes one of genuine amusement. Hamal would love to pretend that’s it, but he asked, so they’ll continue to embarrass themself if it keeps him focused on them. “I suppose that is a fair amount of candles, but it’s not—”

“That’s not all of them,” they say, as solemnly as they can manage. They go over to the new wardrobe and open the bottom two drawers— both empty save for four more boxes of candles. They pull them out and stack them on top of the others.

“…I suppose that could qualify as an embarrassing amount.”

“Still not done,” they say. They walk over to the table, draped with a plain red cloth that touches the floor, and pulls out four more boxes from beneath it. 

Narinder starts to laugh. When Hamal turns back toward him he’s still sitting on the bed, doubled over, new tears rolling down his face. He’s laughing so hard it’s difficult for him to speak. “Why in the world…would you…why would you…that’s…”

He forces himself to sit up properly and counts the boxes. A dozen candles to a box, sixteen boxes. Hamal needs to write down that sort of math to figure it out, but Narinder can do it in his head. “…192 candles!” 

Hamal grins, a little abashed, but mostly pleased that they seem to have broken through whatever fog his nightmare left him in. They sit beside him on the bed. “Well, I know how much you like to read, and I know you like to have one or two lit when you’re going to sleep. I thought it might make you feel more at home, and I didn’t want to run out in case you needed extras.”

Narinder looks around the hut at the boxes full of candles, the last few laughs fading into a soft chuckle. He wipes at his face with the back of his hand. “Only you. You are…”

“Ridiculous?” they offer. 

“A bit, but I was going to say extraordinary,” Narinder says. He grabs their hand and turns it over, running his thumb across their palm. “I couldn’t dream you up if I tried.”

They smile. “Convinced I’m real then?” 

“Yes,” he says. He leans against them and interlaces his fingers with theirs. “I…apologize. I held off on sleeping here for this reason. I didn’t want to run the risk of saying or doing something harmful when I wasn’t…all here.” He can’t seem to look at them as he speaks, gaze cast downward at the floor as though ashamed. 

Hamal grasps him gently by the chin and turns his face toward them. “You don’t have to apologize, Nari. Even if you did do or say something ‘harmful’, we’ve literally tried to kill each other before. I think I could get over it, especially if you only did or said it because you were confused.” 

He smiles slightly at that, but it fades quickly. There’s a sadness that lingers behind his eyes. “There was a moment there I thought I’d imagined you. All of it. The prophecy, the Lamb, this.” 

“Was that the nightmare?” they venture a guess.

Narinder nods once. “It wouldn’t have been the first time I…it happened a few times, in the veil. Believing I was about to be free, or that I was already. The return to reality was always…unpleasant.” 

They try not to think about it, but the memory surfaces regardless: giant arms stripped to the bone, cuffs stained with black godsblood and ragged flesh. Nearly a thousand years alone, barely able to move, screaming into in an empty white prison. Sometimes, Hamal wishes they could kill the Bishops all over again. They cannot imagine inflicting that sort of fate on someone they love.

Hamal squeezes Narinder’s hand reassuringly. “This is the reality now.” 

Without warning, Narinder pulls them into a fierce hug. He squeezes them tight and buries his face in their neck. Hamal returns the embrace and doesn’t dare break it; they’ll hold him for the rest of the night if that’s what he needs. 

After a prolonged silence, he slowly relinquishes his grip on them. They’ve watched him run through the gamut of emotion, but now he seems more tired than anything. He lays down again and wordlessly pulls Hamal with him. They cuddle close once more; he rests his head against their chest, they wrap a protective arm around him. Narinder sighs, exhausted in several ways. At last he says, “I don’t deserve this. You.” 

“Yeah, you do,” Hamal says dismissively. 

He doesn’t lift his head from their chest, but his red eyes flicker to look up at them. “And how did you come to that conclusion?” 

“I love you. So you deserve the world, because I said so.” They punctuate the sentiment by giving him a playful squeeze. 

He smiles softly and nuzzles his face into their wool. “I suppose as the last god ‘because I said so’ trumps any argument I could hope to make.”

“Exactly,” Hamal says, grinning. “Try and get some sleep, Nari. I’ll be right here if you need me.” 

Narinder lifts his head to look at them one last time, as if to ensure they aren’t going to evaporate into smoke the second he looks away. They smile and run their cloven hand through the fur on his back, another physical reminder that he’s cozy and safe, no longer chained and alone. He smiles at that and once again rests his cheek against their wool, his eyes beginning to drift closed.  

Hamal kisses the tips of his ears and hugs him close. They say it again, softer this time: “I’m here. Always.”

The purr begins again, quieter than before, but it’s there. “My thanks, Lamb.”

#Cult of the Lamb #Cult of the Lamb fanfic #narilamb #whump #fluff #past hurt all comfort #true devotion #i love them your honor #narilamb fanfic

[justarandomlambblog]

Hello and welcome to my Cult of the Lamb blog! The title of this blog might change, but you can call me Justa.

You can find me on AO3 under JustaWrites! I write pretty much just as much as I draw. Please don't mind the inconsistency in my art, I'm still trying to settle into an art style and figure out how to draw these mfers in a way that I'm happy with. I haven't drawn in YEARS and I was a traditional realism landscape artist when I did, so this is a learning curve for me. I am also still figuring out names for the Lamb and Yellow Cat so you'll see their names change between AUs as I look for names I like.

Now, I am not a One Story Gal. I get an idea and I play with it, which even tho I have been involved in Cult of the Lamb for like... less than a month, means I have a lot of AUs already. They're mostly canon-divergent or twisted in some way, but I build a lot on worldbuilding and culture.

Something to know for basically all canon-divergent/adjacent fics: Narinder's region, through the doorways behind the Gateway, is called Sleeping Hollow. It is blocked off from the rest of the world and has been isolated for a thousand years, so it has remained untouched by the Bishops' devolving madness.

Now for the part this post is for; the AUs.

Death's Beck and Call: The Lamb never killed Narinder, meaning Narinder did not lose his status as god of Death; instead, Lamb became a god of gods, the god of Life, when they chose to spare Narinder. Unfortunately, this also means Shamura's prophecy... was never completed. Five became four became three became two became one... and one still remains. The Lamb drags Narinder along on a journey to "reverse the prophecy"- to turn one into five again. This fic contains: Canon typical violence and death, OCs, Narilamb and Leshycat The Lamb: Their name is Azri and they use they/them pronouns Yellow Cat: Their name is Tati and they use they/them pronouns

Dreams of Absolution: Modern-ish AU mixing modern day culture with a more traditional religious culture found in-game. Narinder is a single dad to Aym and Baal, coparenting with Forneus, and Lamb is new in town, Aym and Baal's new teacher. Lamb is smitten with the cute barista at Mystic Coffee House, and Narinder is just trying to avoid his estranged family. This fic contains: Past violence and death, (fictional) religion, family drama, Narilamb and Leshycat, dad!Narinder, past Narinder/Forneus (Narineus? Forinder?), not-evil Bishops The Lamb: Simply goes by Lamb, their real name is unknown. They/Them Yellow Cat: Their name is Tati, they/them. Art: Narilamb, Single Dad Narinder, Lamb is Lost, Tati and Leshy, Narinder and Lamb

Second Chances [name will change when I think of something better]: In which Narinder wakes up after dying to find himself in the After again, and thinking it's Purgatory, just gives up. Then Aym and Baal arrive, and he decides- Purgatory or not, he'll play the game differently this time. Revenge didn't work and he will never be free, but... this time, these kits will be his children, not his guardians. Now, Vessels are not for wreaking havoc and seeking vengeance on his siblings, but for providing the twins with the mortal luxuries that he cannot. But... how, exactly, did time rewind itself? Well, the Lamb and the Bishops might have answers.... Or: Turns out in a world that relies on gods, killing them all is a bad idea. This story contains: this is a lighthearted AU, mostly, with mild angst, dad!Narinder, Bishops as a family, trying to undo damage, etc. There is definitely a pre-relationship Narilamb angle here, but it is not a core part of the story. Lamb: They are mostly just called Lamb, they/them Art: The First Vessel

Song of the Eternal: In which fallen gods will eventually hear a song beckoning them to the Eternal Land. Narinder and Leshy hear the song and know they have to leave, something they're torn about as their family is only still recovering. This fic includes: It's a heavy story, including themes of loss and regret, and what it means to find peace. Feelings-realized-too-late, Leshycat, onesided/requited-too-late Narilamb Lamb: Just called Lamb, they/them Yellow Cat: Called Mer, they/them Art: A Hard Conversation (wip)

Memories like a Photograph Faded: After saving the Bishops, Narinder is given to the Lamb... only, Narinder does not remember the last several thousand years. This fic contains: Amnesia, existentialism (to an extent), family bonding, hints of Narilamb and implied Leshycat Lamb: Just called Lamb, they/them Yellow Cat: Called Mer, they/them

Unnamed: In which no one realizes Narinder is immortal, so Lamb offers him a golden skull which he rejects, expressing a desire to live as mortals do- have a family and grow old and die, all the things he never could before. The Bishops protest this, as they've only just started healing, but ultimately let it be. Unfortunately for Narinder, he will never live this life. This story contains: Narinder/OC, Narinder offspring, pining Lamb, Leshycat, Bishops family, family bonding, angst Lamb: Just called Lamb, they/them Yellow Cat: Unnamed thus far, they/them

Okay for now this is all I have time for, I will add to this and make it better later when I don't need to go to work <3

#cult of the lamb #masterpost of a sort