#cult!au
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god help us if simon's wife and price's wife ever meet. a hopelessly naive reader, raised on the inside who's never known the outside world colliding with someone who has??? the angst would be unreal.
-@last-starry-sky
no but could you just imagine?? john and simon are very close. john trusts simon with a lot of very important roles and responsibilities including the safety and security of the compound. so I can imagine john and his missus have simon and his wife over for dinner often :(
and johns wife never talks about her life before getting married, anyone would assume she was born and raised inside the walls. your husbands are in johns study, smoking and discussing important stuff whilst you both tidy up after dinner. harmless gossip being passed back and between you both until you finally get the nerve to ask about the outside world
and her face just drops, she immediately clears her throat and says it’s not appropriate to discuss, and if john were to overhear it then he would not be happy. but you carry on pushing and pushing, trying to get some answers until she finally snaps. dropping the glass she was holding as her body wracks with sobs, yelling how she doesn’t want to talk about the outside. wailing how it’s an awful place and you’re so lucky you’ve never been exposed to the awful things out there
the commotion is enough to have simon and john stomping down the hallway in seconds, ready to take down any threat that could be causing you both harm but when they enter the kitchen they just see the pitiful sight of johns wife crying whilst you stand next to her with panic filling your eyes 👀
#mw2#cod mw2#simon riley x reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#ghost#john price x reader#john price#captain john price#cultleader!price#cult!au
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Therapist! Andy or Cult Leader! Thor?
I went off.
Sacred Vessel
Warnings: noncon, cult behaviour, fear, breeding kink, praise.
Character: cult leader!Thor
So I never got to do a cult fic before and not for lack of wanting. Please let me know if you enjoy. And all your other thinks and thots.
“Sister,” Lorraine’s voice draws you from your trance, the blur in your vision narrowing to a crisp focus. “Don’t forget your lilies.”
You face her, wincing as she lifts the band of petals over you. She places the crown on your head and pins it in place, the babble of those around you both calms and sparks your nerves. The swathes of white are endless as nearly a dozen women linger in anticipation.
“Thank you,” you exhale, your ribs aching at your realisation of your baited breath.
“Don’t be nervous,” she touches your arms just above your elbows, a comforting squeeze before she trails down your sleeves and flutters the loose trumpets of fabric, “you will be chosen. Trust in the storm.”
“Sister,” you bow your head.
She doesn’t know you don’t fear being unchosen, no it is the alternative that frightens you. It is unsaid among the others in the room but speaks in their nervous steps and wringing hands. Each plucked for their chastity, assured that it is the Storm that calls them to serve.
Lorraine parts and goes to Makena. They exchange brittle smiles as the former adjusts the latter’s crown of flowers. You shudder and fold your hands over your stomach. The ceremony will be soon, the dawn rises and beckons to the storm, grey clouds roil in the distance.
Anika sniffles as Lorraine nears her and wipes away the tears with her thumbs. She reprimands her gently until she mops her face with her sleeves. You have to look away as you fear your own dread might spill forth.
There is a knock at the door that silences the women. You all turn to look as Lorraine, ever the boldest, goes to open it.
The Mother of the Storm enters, her head held high as her silver and golden waves ripple down her shoulders and back. She wears a deep shade of blue that represents the Storm, as the Master of the Storm shall wear black to signal the Eye.
“Maidens of the Storm, you have been chosen,” she declares, “and so comes your time to be blessed by the rains…” she pauses and a roar of thunder growls in the distance, “and you shall discover if you are truly worthy to bear the fruits of the earth. This ground is as sacred as the sky, for they cannot exist without each other.”
“By the Storm’s Eye,” you recite in unison as you bow your heads.
“For those not chosen, you will pass on to serve in other ways. To sow this land and mind those who graze it. Know that your duty is as divine as the Storm’s vessels.”
Another eerie echo among the women, “by the Storm’s Eye.”
The Mother, Frigga, raises her hands, “his Eye sees all.”
She turns and strides out. You follow without bidding, Lorraine at the head of the line as Makena trails her, Anika trembles and wobbles and the other women walk dolefully in silence. You’re at the end, not moving until you must, nearly paralysed in your fear.
The wooden slats creak under your bare feet as you trod along the hallway and pass beneath the open archway. The pale sky hides the sun behind the rising wall of clouds. A light mist hangs in the air as the Storm approaches, closer and closer, shaking the earth in its advance.
The Mother leads you through the village as bodies stand fixated on the train of women clothed in white. Despite the crowd that trims the way, there are no voices, only the noise of your feet on the cobble and the odd scatter of pebbles bouncing off toes. Your mother stands at her front door with your sisters. They are happy.
You reach the edge of the village and enter the plateau between the tall stone planks set into an elaborate labyrinth. The Mother guides you without hesitation, knowing the way no other could. At the center, she stops and turns back as the world darkens, a black cloud like a curtain across the sky.
The first droplets fall cold upon the ground and you feel more seeping through the fabric of your gown. Anika quivers and whimpers, Makena breathes shallowly, and Lorraine preens with excitement. You feel dizzy as a cold speck of rain hits the back of your neck.
“Let the Storm cleanse you, maidens,” Frigga booms, “and when you hear the goat’s horn, you will know it is time to follow the tide. It shall wash you in many directions for you each have your own path. You must follow it and see the end. The Storm sees all.”
“By the Storm’s Eye,” the chant is weak and wavering as the rain pelts down harder and you shiver as it soaks through the thin linen.
Frigga puts her hands together and turns, flitting between the towering columns, leaving you and the maidens afraid and aimless. Perhaps if you stay at the center, you will not be chosen. Or that may be too obvious. You only hope to see the fields and run back to the village. A seed in the dirt is preferable to one in your womb.
A strike of lightning cuts through the sky and thunder claps loud enough for several to scream. You shake and stumble back. You spin, peering up to the pulsating clouds as the rain slakes your face. The horn blows and the chill permeates to the bone.
“Run!” Anika cries shrilly and before any other can move, she is gone, her loud sobs fading into the furious noise of the storm.
Makena is second and you don’t wait for who’s next as you plunge into the closest corridor of the maze. You grab your skirt, balling the wet linen in your fists as you hold it aloft to keep from tripping. You pant and pump your legs onward as the sky growls and another deafening howl of thunder rises.
The world turns black then lights up, a flurry of flashes, one after the other as lightning flickers incessantly. An onslaught that has you lost but painfully lucid. You feel every inch of skin, every strand of hair, every breath, and every beat of your heart.
The ground turns slicks under your feet and you slip to your knees. You hear a step not your own, then a splash and glance over as a green streak passes just down the corridor. You tuck yourself behind the closest column as a voice follows.
“Little mouse…” the taunting call flows away from you, easing but not quelling your horror. It is another who will suffer Loki’s desires.
You hear the mud suck and lurch away from the stone plank. You quickly scramble up to your feet and race away from the noise. Rain coats your face, an endless downpour and you swipe it away as the wet linen weighs you down, trying to see through the pellets streaming all around you.
A tremulous crack of thunder crashes down and the earth seems to shift as you trip and somersault in the slick dirt. You hit the stone and roll flat to your back, breathless and disoriented, staring up into the surging storm.
The mud slaps beside your head and two feet come up on either side. You let out a mewl as a figure stands over you and laughs, his deep laughter rolling into the thunder, almost identical. You shield yourself as he bends over you and he bats away your hands. His long fingers stretch over your neck and he forces you up, twisting you around to face him as your feet slide into the earth.
“There you are, little one,” he turns and pins you to the stone, “I was looking for you.”
You know him; Thor. The Son of the Storm.
Your hand taps his helplessly and you try to push a finger between his, “not me, please. My family–”
“Will be blessed to have a daughter chosen,” he taunts as he looms over you, “it is not the others I have longed for. No, it is the quiet maiden in her garden that harkens the storm.”
You squirm and wrap a hand around his thick wrist. He wears only a red loincloth, his skin weeping with the rain as he stands unaffected in the cold shower. His thick muscles add to his inhuman size and you feel the strength in his grip as you fail to peel away his grasp.
“I am afraid,” you say, though you don’t know why.
“You are chosen,” he pushes his hand up, forcing you to tilt your head against the pillar.
You whimper and drop your hands to brace the stone. His other hand hooks over the top of your dress and he tears through it easily, jerking you until the linen falls down your arms before pooling at your feet, leaving you naked and shivering. You close your eyes as your tears leak out, their heat burning against the ice cold droplets of rain.
“You are a worthy vessel,” he cups your breast as your nipple pokes out frigidly, he rubs his thumb over it with a purr, “so responsive… so precious…” his hand crawls across your chest and he gropes the other side, “so innocent.”
“Please,” you croak futilely.
You know there is no escape, that this is your fate, as your heart clenches in crushed hope. He hushes you as he traces a thick finger between your breasts and down your belly. He stops and pushes his palm to your soft flesh.
“You will thank me when you are round with my child,” he snarls as he leans in, his thumb poking painfully behind your jaw as he keeps hold of your throat. “You will know then how you’ve been blessed and will be me to do so again.”
You heave, the panic swelling and flowing over as you begin to sob. His fingertips brush your pelvis and along your hip, down your thigh as he hunches over you. He grabs the back of your leg and bends it, lifting you so that your back scratches against the cold stone.
Your other leg dangles and you are forced to wrap it around him as the strain grows too much. He slowly slips his hand from your neck, taking his time to fondle you again. You turn your head away as he raises you higher, grazing your belly with low hum, and following the line of your pelvis.
He dips between your folds, his rough fingertip sending a spark through your clit so you gasp. He delves deeper, a wetness you didn’t feel before greeting his warm touch. You whine as he traces along your entrance, pulling his finger back and forth. You quiver and gulp, horrified at your own body.
He drags his thumb over your bud again, rubbing you firmly as your muscles draw tight and your core coils. He teases you until you writhe and arch against the stone. He purrs as he watches you, your lashes parting as his silhouette lurks behind them.
“You are ready for me, little one,” he rasps as he rescinds his hand, reaching beneath his cloth, “yes, as ready as an innocent one can be.”
His tip brushes the bottom of your thigh and you wince. He prods along your cunt and spreads your slickness over the swollen head. He spreads you with two fingers, catching himself between them as he steadies you.
He enters you, just an inch as you cry out. He lets you sink lower and you bend your arms back to claw the stone against your shoulders. He hushes you again as he stretches you around his great length.
“Little one, be calm, it will be easier,” he coos, “yes, yes, you must let your body welcome me.”
He shifts his hips and your walls strain achingly. You shudder as he brings his hand to your chin, cupping it as he forces your head up. Your vision is hazy with tears as his glow and unnatural blue. Your horror compounds as you gape, his muscles limned in the inhuman hue.
“How I’ve watched you,” he snarls as he sinks deeper, “how you bend over to tend the bulbs. I’ve dreamt of the sight of you, growing with my seed as those in your garden flourish beneath your love.”
He sighs as he impales you wholly and your body throbs as if you will break in half. You feel him in your belly as your thighs clench around him. You whimper and clasp onto his shoulder, trying to ease the pressure in your core.
He slides out to his tip, the emptiness both painful and a relief. He thrusts back in and your nails dig into the round muscle of his shoulder as you holler. He does it again, harder and your voice rises louder than before. Again, again, again, until you’re babbling in agony.
He runs his thumb up your chin as he holds your lolling head and presses against your bottom lip. Your eyes roll back as tears overflow and you choke on the pain, his body chafing wetly against yours as he ruts. The slick rhythm of his flesh and yours invades your reality, dampening the flash and crash of the storm swirling madly over you.
“You’re doing well, little one,” he grunts as his pelvis slams into yours and he bends an arm beneath your knee, pulling your leg higher as he pushes even deeper. “Yes, so good, you feel it, yes…”
He lets your head droop to the side as his fingers retreat down your skin, drawing a line through the rain that sheaths your figure. He slides his hand down between your torso and along your pelvis. He feels around until he finds your bud and holds firmly against it.
The tendons in his neck draw tight and the eerie blue tint gleams like lightning in his veins. A sudden bolt of electricity ripples into you and has you moaning and spasming around him. The pleasure pours over you, strangling you mute. You shake as you crest the peak and tumble down the other side, senseless and completely surrender.
“Oh, yes, little one, his lips tickle your forehead as his breath cascades over you, “you are the perfect vessel.”
#thor#thor x reader#dark thor#dark!thor#cult!au#au#drabble#dark drabble#dark!drabble#mcu#marvel#ask drabble
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An Unexpected Savior
Prompts: Painting!Teyvat & Herta!Reader by @mists-reading-nook
Summary: You are a painter. You were trapped in a world that you had created during a dark period of your life; these so-called acolytes had summoned you against your will. Now you sit on a throne forced to govern a world that reminded you of the worst of times. Fate dictates that you are to be trapped live here; truly, a horrible, dramatic end to your story. If only there was a variable gallivanting around that could take pity on you, unless...?
Words: 1061
“What-what? Who...are you?” You rasped out. You put a hand to your throat. All of that crying really hurt your vocal cords. The newcomer tilts his head a little.
“Um, I’m a traveler,” he says in a soft voice. “And forgive me for saying this, but you look...miserable. Then again, I’ve heard that sometimes people cry in order to feel better, but my intuition tells me that that’s not what you’re doing right now.”
Instead of saying anything, you opt to stare at him. He looks around, searching for something...or someone. You observe his joints, noting how they look like a puppet; you decide to give him the moniker of Puppet A. He looks at you in a mixture of pity and...sympathy? There was also an earnest desire to help thrown in there.
“I can help you, since you look like you’d rather be anywhere else right now,” says Puppet A. “I know that I’m a stranger to you, but I can’t just leave someone who’s clearly suffering like...this.”
You suck in a sharp breath. “Please. Anything. I don’t-I don’t care where we go, just take me anywhere other than here! This place, it reminds me of all those times-”
“There’s no need to go into details. Judging from your voice, you’ve truly suffered in the past. The present is all that matters now. I will…acquiesce to your request,” says the puppet. He crosses his arms and arches an eyebrow. “But are you sure you mean anywhere? Ideally, you’d like to return home correct?
“Yes.” You didn’t care for this Creator nonsense at all. All you could think of was getting away away away from this hell. Fortunately, he seems to have noticed your agitated expression. Puppet A extends his hand out.
“Then, take my hand. If you have the strength to get up from that throne, then you can accomplish the next part.” You barely register what he said. All you heard was, ‘take my hand and I’ll help you escape’; you vaguely feel your arms push against the cold stone of the throne as you stand. You slowly make your way towards him. Dimly, you were aware of what might happen to this place if you suddenly disappeared, but you quickly silenced the thought.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion; you watched him for a reaction, but all you saw was a blank face staring into your soul. Oddly, he didn’t seem to have any pupils. You shake your head to refocus. By the time you realized it, you were on the last couple of steps; once you were at ground level you took note of how short the puppet was.
He waves his extended hand a little, subtly reminding you what to do. You reach out and take it. The sensation was surprisingly soft, yet it felt like it was surface-level; if you pressed against his fingers you could make out a harder substance akin to wood.
“Since you took my hand. That means you accept my help?” You nod vigorously. “Alright. In that case, let us cease with the theatrics.”
And then his pupils glowed. The air around you grew hot instantaneously, making it difficult to breathe. A white light surrounded you both. Looking around you, the throne room was illuminated; you looked down and saw that you two were standing in a circle decorated with symbols you weren’t familiar with. You felt your throat get dry. “Now-now what?”
“Hang on, I’m trying to find something that can connect me to your world-oh. That was-I found it. Teleportation shall begin shortly,” he says with robotic confidence. The light intensifies and you swear you could feel the power radiate from him, as if you were standing near a giant bonfire and the heat was going to swallow you up. Except, it doesn’t do that. Instead, it washes over you harmlessly. It soothes you, blanketing you up and making you feel cozy.
Before you realize it, you close your eyes and faint.
///
You wake up in bed. You feel around and are surprised when you remember the feeling of this particular mattress.
This is my bed, you think to yourself with a growing alarm..and relief. Then, am I really home?
You look around. You were back in your room; everything was as you left it, almost like they didn’t move at all. How long were you gone? A day? A week? A month? You sit up in bed and stare at your hands. You could almost forget about what had happened, and yet the memories and experiences of that place were still in your head; if you concentrated, you could still see it.
You decide to push those memories down, along with the ugly feelings associated. Great. The last thing I needed was a reminder of that horrible period of time. I hope I don’t relapse so quickly…wait, what happened with the puppet guy? Wasn’t he in front of me just a second ago? Where’d he go? I wanted to thank him for getting me out of there…
///
Inside Irminsul, everything was as it should be. Information was being fed into it via the leylines. Everything was quiet. And then the sound of someone warping inside broke the stillness.
The puppet took a moment to confirm his destination and then strode forward toward Irminsul’s innermost part. At his side, his hands were curled into fists. His face was impassive. When he reached the glowing blue tree in the center he held out a hand. Immediately, his eyes began to glow a dark green.
He could feel himself steadily connect to Irminsul. Once he felt the connection establish, he focused on his sole desire for coming there.
Erase all information and concepts related to the Creator at once. The neon blue tree hummed obediently. He didn’t need to stay here anymore. The order couldn’t be canceled by anyone but him; thanks to him, this world would go back to how it was before this creator nonsense infected it.
He snaps his fingers and a rift opens to his left. He turns to leave when he hears several others warp in. His gaze flickers to see a small green child in the distance. He pauses, and after a moment of deliberation, steps through the rift with a smirk and disappears without saying a word.
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A/N: I experimented with the “Teyvat is a painting made during a period of healing” idea and the Herta!Reader at the same time; I ended up combining them both with this as the result. FYI I crafted my own version of Herta!Reader; y’all are free to create your own (that being said I wanna play with this guy an awful lot more). I also tried to make an intro with a mini-comic because I wanted to try something new. Let me know what y’all think, I want your honest opinions. I desire to write more short stories like this, emphasis on short.
Questions, comments, and critiques are welcome...!
#sagau#genshin self aware#self aware genshin au#genshin imagines#genshin impact fanfic#genshin fanfic#cult!au#sagau cult au
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Finor, the first follower.
#cult of the lamb#cotl oc#finor oc#trod au#the rehabilitation of death#the lamb doesn't remember what their mom looks like but it's finor they think of when they say the word#doodles#tw blood#comic#do yall see the ch/ca f/naf reference lksdhglkshgd
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Mawwige....
thinking about beating narinder with a gun in game, and immediatley marrying him, a shotgun wedding.
#narilamb#narinder#lambert#cult of the lamb#CotL#toww#true devotion#cotl comic#there is a second part to this lol they do not actually get married here#lamb oc#will update ID's later#my artwork#fr au#Fool's Revenant au#Fools revenant au
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gotta teach the youth of the hardships in life
#as usual#my goofy doodles become something I genuinely want to work on oops#ascension of mercy - cotl au#art#artists on tumblr#artist#artists#cotl#cult of the lamb#cotl lamb#cotl fanart#cult of the lamb fanart#lambert
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Confession booth.
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Previous - next
This page... Spiritually and physically tested me. While I LOVE doing backgrounds and perspective work, lighting and coloring this nearly put me into a coma🤣
#liseysart#illustration#cotl fanart#cotl lamb#comic#cotl narilamb#cult of the lamb#the rehabilitation of death#cotl au#cotl art
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This part of the chapt made me giggle @bamsara
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100% based on the tags @strawdool left on my dumb YouTube au post cause it made me loose my mind.
I spent waaaaayyyy too much time on this for how much of a shitpost it is. Can you tell I’ve photoshopped a fake YouTube drama thumbnail before.
I’m kinda eh on the modern lamb clothing design but I like Narinder’s. There’s some really good and fashionable modern Narinder designs out there but I refuse to believe he doesn’t dress like a man who will ruin your life. Not cool alt or punk, I know he’s got the male manipulator™️ look.
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Wait wait hear me out PLEASE:
What if price found out someone among the followers, was slowly realizing this whole thing wasn’t just a loving community and instead something… more?
at first, one of his trusted guards (maybe gaz or soap) came up to him and mentioned someone lurking around the gates way too often, or maybe they heard someone talking about “ the outside”,
And just the thought of everything falling apart because of an unruly follower, boiled his blood,
So he asks the guard to show him the person trying to ruin the loving community he had made, and when the guard points to the sweetest girl just walking around, with naivety written all over her, he understood that the “threat” he was so worried about was just a cute little thing with too much time on her hands, and the suspicious behavior was just because of her curiosity
His frown instantly changed into his signature smile that made everyone in the community to adore him, and he decided to have a “talk” with her parents about marrying her off to his most devoted man: simon.
Having a family and a husband to take care of would keep her busy enough for her to stay out of trouble.
And the girl’s parents were unbelievably happy about price’s decision, after all as the leader he knows best for each and every one of them, right?
And so the night before the wedding price gives simon a speech about his duty as a husband to make sure his wife wouldn’t cause any problems and his responsibility to payback the community with kids of his own
and that speech just changed something in simon, he knew that price trusted him and he took pride in that, but this? Gifting him a beautiful wife to mold into a loving member of the community? He was filled with emotions he had never felt before
And so during the wedding ceremony poor simon was holding himself back to not just fuck her right then and there, his mind was completely filled with the thought of his wife walking around pregnant with his kids and helping out the other followers with chores and price praising him for creating such a wonderful family.
(Also ps, i LOVE your writing so so much 🙏, you can ignore my request but i would be so very happy if you didn’t 😢)
anon you have summarised everything I have been trying to capture about this AU fucking perfectly
now come and claim your forehead kiss 😙
c/w: cult!au, arranged marriage, traditional gender roles in relationships, if that’s not your thing then go away, nsfw, masturbation, implied virginity loss, breeding kink
he can’t help the relived sigh that leaves his lips when he comes to realises the big bad threat that everyone was so worried about, was nothing more than a sweet girl like you who just needs a few babies and a house to keep her hands full :(
he could’ve gifted you off to kyle or johnny, with their ladykiller smiles and warm eyes but they’ve got time to fulfill their purpose to the community. plenty of years to find a lovely girl and settle down but simon didn’t have that luxury, and he certainly wasn’t trying to achieve it in anyway
he was perfectly content to stay in his home in the near the woods by himself or keeping himself locked up in the armoury all day, cleaning every nook and cranny of the weapons inventory before dragging his feet home to sleep by himself the same way he’s done for the past decade
he knew simon wouldn’t say no, he didn’t really have a choice anyway. besides, what’ll happen if your curiosity gets the better of you and you figure out that everything really isn’t what it seems? john would really hate to make a lovely girl like you disappear :( he can only afford a few loose ends before people start to get suspicious and he really didn’t see a need to waste one of those on a harmless, bored young woman
simon thought he’d hate this more than he does, but he must admit that walking into his bedroom and seeing his new bride kneeling on the edge of the bed waiting eagerly, really did it for him. he has to tell himself not to rip you apart right there, to taste and appreciate you rather than devour you whole
obsessed with the way you squeeze your eyes shut, fingers digging into the sheets when he pushes into you for the first time. a few quiet squeaks leaving your throat as you adjust to the feel. you don’t expect his gaze to be boring directly into yours when you finally let your eyelids flick open
he’ll hold that eye contact when he slowly drags his hips back, only to bury himself all the way to the hilt in one smooth thrust. there’s a tightness in his balls when he watches your mouth form into a little ‘o’ shape after his tip bumps against your cervix
the timidness shared between you doesn’t lessen as time goes on. you fall into a comfortable routine, however. wake up, cook breakfast for your husband, clean whilst he’s at work, have dinner ready when he gets home, wait for him on the bed in your modest nightgown as he showers
it’s like that for a few months until he finally gets the validation he’s been seeking. the way you shuffle up to him, mumbling something about your menstrual cycle being late with warmed cheeks, couldn’t have come sooner. the clap on the back he gets from price is enough to send him spiralling
you pretend to be asleep when you feel your husband’s fingertips dragging over your tummy delicately. you had only just found out but the lack of swell on your pregnancy progress didn’t seem to bother him. he has plenty of time to enjoy your pregnancies pregnancy
and the gradual shift of watching you meekly shuffle around his house, too shy to say a word to him despite him casually spreading your thighs open every night, to a woman that one would comfortably assume was his wife rather than his maid. you’ve begun to make use of all that empty space in his home
he’ll occasionally catch a glimpse of you waddling around, hand resting on the underswell of your belly as you hold a laundry basket on your hip. even though he’s your husband, he had to admit it felt perverted to hide behind a tree, hurriedly jerking his cock to the sight of you hanging his boxers and shirts on the washing line <3
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Based off the idea 💊 has I thought was cool af
-🦝
#🦝🦝🦝#cult of the lamb#cotl lamb#cotl narinder#narilamb#cotl#cotl toww#the one who waits#hmmm#kinda an au I guess#if ya think about it lol
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Vows.
[‼️TRIGGER WARNING: Implied decapitation, blood. Discretion is advised ‼️]
It’s done! Yay! 3 days of work later, but super worth it!
Now- what is going on?? Well. Like the previous post, this comic takes place in a timeline in which the Lamb decides to willingly return the crown, resulting in their demise, yet find themselves brought back to life shortly after by the god of death himself. Why did he do it? What is he planning? What could he possibly need the lamb for? Why won’t he let them rest?
Hopefully all these questions will be answered in further updates (definitely simpler than this comic) but I’ll gladly take asks if anyone’s curious =v=
Sadly I still don’t have a name for the au—but hopefully I’ll settle for something soon! In the meantime I’ll just tag it as “vows to ash au” or smt like that. Until then!
Christ.
#cult of the lamb#cotl fanart#cotl comic#cotl narinder#cotl lamb#does this count as narilamb#Idk I don’t think so#but there IS gonna be narilamb in the au so…#narilamb#??? perhaps#boy this formatting was hell#not like that’s gonna stop me from doing it again at some point but uhm#vows to ash au#there now it’s stored in a tag
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Finally finished this, one of the many comic wips I started the last few months (you can kinda see where I got lazy and changed up some stylization in a few panels lmao)
Anyway, a scene I have planned out for The Rehabilitation of Death.
Some extra doodles below:
#narilamb#trod au#the rehabilitation of death#tw blood#tw gore?#face injury#cult of the lamb#cotl narinder#cotl lamb#the one who waits#cotl toww#doodles
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was just thinking about how Narinder probably hasnt experienced rain in centuries and Heket thought she never would again. fictional tragic siblings...
bonus leshy- because u know his ass would be out there
#cotl#cult of the lamb#heket#narinder#cotl comic#cotl heket#cotl narinder#my artwork#leshy#lambert#tag this as ship and Ill eyebeam blast you.#cotl spoilers#illustration#comic#fr au#Fool's Revenant au#Fools revenant au
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"I've made a new friend today, lamb."
Trudging along, bells toiling, the god of mercy visits the plains once more in search of lost souls in need of saving. A lush flower grove grows beneath their hooves, only to quickly rot and age underneath the crimson cloak. The scent of herb coated the ancient long gone architecture with new vigor.
Narinder still clings to their ancient master, loyal as always joining the solemn walk. He announces his blessed day, he made a friend, looking up to the towering beast for a sign that he has been heard. He almost wishes to choke a sob, for he sees there's none.
A trudge, new life, for it to end, the echos of chimes, an omen of sleep. He remembers the days when he despised the infant god for being so childish, the cursed mocking laughter of a sickly sweet soul, to see the joy written on their face, to see how proud they were when the news was given. Delight that Narinder is no longer so lonesome with the new family.
He'd give anything to break this damned curse, just to see that annoying, pitiful, awful, smile again.
#fuck you i like this piece#ascension of mercy - cotl au#art#artists on tumblr#artist#artists#cotl#cult of the lamb fanart#cotl narinder#cotl lamb#cotl fanart#cult of the lamb#cotl art
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