So, I've Posted The First Chapter Of Wingmen, A Maxley Fanfic. I Have No Idea When The Next Chapter Will

Soooo, normally when I'm writing fanfiction guys, I try to keep the chapters between 3000 and 4000 words, but I'm thinking of making the chapters a little longer (between 5000 and 6000 words, maybe more) for Cult of the Lamb: Redemption because I have a lot of story to cover. Though I don't mind making a 100-chapter fanfic, I think I'd rather keep the number of chapters reasonable.

What do you guys think? Poll below:

Cult of the Lamb: Redemption Chapter #5

Y'all, it's been a hot minute, and I've had this chapter done for MONTHS but I completely forgot about it. But uuuuh, happy spooky season, and have some more cotl content!

Also, don't ask me when the next chapters coming out- I've started it, but I'm so busy with college, I have no idea.

Twisted Wonderland - He Hears You Singing (About Him)

Twisted Wonderland Writings Masterpost

Heartslabyul Edition, Savanaclaw Edition

Prompt: While relaxing, and doing chores around the Ramshackle dorm for your weekend restoration of the barely standing building, your thoughts drift to love songs from your old world. You think of songs that remind you of your closest fellow NRC student and significant other, and end up singing one while you work.

Reader: GN reader - They/Them pronouns and they are referred to as 'MC/Prefect' in this one. And let's all just agree that MC is a great singer- cuz some of these songs have mad vocals that I would never dream of trying to sing myself with my incredibly average voice, and I imagine a lot of you are the same.

Included Characters: Octavinelle Edition!

Warnings: None.

Request Rules & Information Here

~~~

Azul Ashengrotto - "Adore You" by Harry Styles

- Why did he stop by Ramshackle? He can't remember. It was something about taste testing the new spring menu, maybe? He's not sure it matters anymore, given how enamored he is with the sound of your voice right now.

- Is frozen in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights, he hadn't even realized it was you singing (he thought it was from your phone or something on a radio) until he turned the corner and saw you.

- When you see him, he turns all kind of shades of scarlet, embarrassed at being caught staring, but he quickly composes himself.

- Immediate compliments followed quickly by an offer to sing at the Mostro Lounge sometime- you'd be paid generously of course-

- On the outside he's acting cool, but the song in question really did fluster him quite a bit, and thoughts of you singing it again just for him keep intruding in his mind, and if you look closely you can see his ears remain a pretty shade of pink the whole conversation after.

- Does truly think you would look stunning dressed up in lavish clothes, preforming on the stage of the Mostro Lounge, are you sure you don't want to? He'll throw in a free meal plus pay!

"My, my, MC, that was a lovely performance. You should put those wonderful vocals to use, I'm sure everyone would be in awe of you at the Lounge. Some may even show up just to see you- I certainly would."

~~~

Jade Leech - "Dive" by Olivia Dean

- He's honestly quiet pleasantly surprised when he enters Ramshackle (without knocking of course) and hears your wonderful singing voice.

- A soft (dare I say genuine?) smile makes it's way to his face as he approaches the living area where you're cleaning, and stands patiently in the doorway for you to finish the song- one he's never heard before but it flows rather smoothly, much like the jazz played at the lounge.

- He finds the lyrics rather intriguing too, now what would inspire you to sing such a romantic song? A crush perhaps? The idea of you having enough of a crush on someone to sing such a song about them makes him... Well, he'll just focus on what he has right in front of him for now, and save those pesky feelings for later self-analysis.

- When you catch him he is completely shameless in his staring, as a matter of fact, his smile grows, before he gives a curious tilt of his head and motions with his hand for you to continue.

- What? Your voice was beautiful, of course he wants to hear it more. What's he doing here? Oh, well, he's come to ask if you'd like to be the first to taste test the Mostro Lounges new spring menu.

- Sure he didn't knock, but it's honestly your fault for not locking the front door- oh, the locks are broken? That can't possibly be safe. Perhaps you should stay at Octavinelle until they are fixed, that way he can hear your voice much more often.

- As a matter of fact, instead of 100 thaumarks a night for a room, he's sure he can arrange for you to sing at the Lounge every night for payment instead.

"Oh, please don't mind me, continue. Your voice is quite delightful, you should consider singing at the Lounge- though, I'm not sure I want anyone else to hear you but me..."

~~~

Floyd Leech - "Risk" by Gracie Abrams

- oHohOHo, you're never gonna live this down PT. 3

- The moment he barges into Ramshackle in a poor mood, looking for his favorite Shrimpy to cheer him up, he freezes at the sound of you're voice.

- But not for long.

- One second, you're alone, singing as you do some chores, and the next second you're being spun around in Floyd Leech's arms as he laughs cheerfully.

- He loves your voice. Keep singing! He wants to dance with you while you do! Forget those boring chores! He's here now, so you can both have fun! You're so adorable he could squeeze you till you pop!

- You should come by the lounge sometimes and sing to him to make his shifts less boring. He's sure Azul wouldn't mind- and if he does, then you two can just leave and have your own party elsewhere!

- He will, without a doubt, demand that you sing to and for him at the most random of times, hell, he might even barge into the middle of your class in a foul mood and demand a serenade from his Shrimpy.

- If you truly won't sing to him, his mood may worsen and you won't see him for awhile while he sorts himself out, whereas if you do sing for him, he will immediately start to feel better.

- The best moment he could ask for to fix his mood, is laying beside you his head in your lap, while you sing. It helps him decompress, and feel so much better from whatever was overwhelming him or souring his mood.

"Shrimpy~! Nice set of pipes! Well, don't stop singing, let's dance together! I knew you'd be doin' something fun, you always cheer me right up!"

~~~

Can you guys tell that Octavinelle is one of my favorite dorms? Particularly the twins? Especially Floyd, his unpredictability with his mood swings are very relatable as someone with severe untreated ADHD and bipolar tendencies. I just think he's neat guys. And fun to write. Anyway! Merry Christmas everyone, and I'll see you next post! ~ Roo

Cult of the Lamb: Redemption: Chapter #4 Preview

(Thoughts & opinions are welcome as always! Be nice, and enjoy.)

Realizations - Narinder

Narinder is not a poet. Not a writer, or a master of words.

So it is no surprise that Lamb's confession stunned him into silence.

"And I wanted you to care so much, but you didn't."

How is he supposed to care if he didn't fucking know? That's not fair of them to hold that against him. It's not fair for them to act like some heartbroken beau that he led on, and then tossed aside.

And then they had the audacity to leave before he could even find a way to respond.

He supposes a part of him is relieved they're not kneeling in front of him anymore while he's trying to sort through his thoughts.

They cared about him. What does that even mean? In the context of a god and a follower?

He thinks he knows exactly what Lamb means, but he'll be damned if he just assumes...

He tries to look back and pinpoint the moments that could give him some kind of hint, or insight into what they mean. Moments that he somehow missed the first time around.

But looking back, all of his memories feel hazy.

Like a terrible, violent fever dream of being so angry, in pain, waiting... Then the betrayal. Every time they try and think back on moments with the Lamb they are greeted by that moment.

When they refused to give the Red Crown back, and instead chose to raise their blade to him.

And every time he is reminded of that moment, he is filled with this cold, dead weight in his chest that he wants to call rage but he knows it's something different.

Hurt.

And hurt made him angry.

Why did it hurt so much? Because he let himself become fond of the wretched beast, he tells himself. He grew attached, even though he knew exactly how things were meant to end.

But they didn't end that way, did they? And now here he is. Alone.

Looking down at his bandages, he can still feel the cooling, refreshing sensation of the medical salve, easing the soreness of his wounds. It didn't help at all with the cramping in his muscles, or aching in his bones, causing the horrible shaking throughout his limbs.

But a feeling that trumps the cramping, or the cooling of the medicine are the traces... The traces of Lamb's touch linger all over his body. His arms, around his ankles, his back and torso. Everywhere he tries to focus his attention he feels them.

Such light, careful care, embedded all over him deeper than the injuries left by his chains.

It had made him forget how angry he was, and say things he shouldn't have... Feel things he shouldn't have.

~~~

Well, guys, this chapter is going to be a doozy. I've decided to attempt to speed things up a slight bit, so there are some cute moments that I hope y'all will enjoy.

The full chapter will be posted tomorrow at 4:00 pm on Ao3 and at 8:30 pm to 9:00 pm, here on Tumblr.

Cult of the Lamb: Redemption Chapter #1

(((TW: Mildly graphicly written suicidal thoughts and ideations - DON'T READ IF THIS MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE)))

Pain - Narinder

Narinder didn't realize how much it would... Hurt.

To be free.

His arms hurt, his body hurt, and his head hurt.

As a god, he had never felt pain like this, which was the first of many signs that he was no longer divine.

And that terrified him. His arms hurt so badly he couldn't move them, and for a moment it felt like the ghosts of his chains still held him in place. His head ached from the light of the sun stabbing through the window of his home, into his light-sensitive eyes.

He can't move. His whole body feels like lead against the soft bed below him. Blankets weigh even heavier on top of him, adding to the feeling of being restrained. He wants to thrash around and escape from under them, but his limbs cramp up with every attempt he makes to move them.

And the jolt of fear that surges through him at that realization makes him want to scream out in agony and terror.

But centuries of captivity have taught him the uselessness of struggling. Have taught him patience. So he clamps his jaw shut and keeps his eyes sealed closed. Trying to listen.

He only just joined his usurpers cult as a follower yesterday, the adrenaline from their fight hadn't even left his system and suddenly the damn Lamb was showing him to his own private grand shelter, set up farther away from the other followers for 'safety purposes.' Whether the Lamb meant for him or the rest of the cult he still isn't sure.

He didn't know how to respond, he was tired. So very tired. He had never felt tired before, but this mortal body... He secured the shelter as soon as the Lamb was gone. Barricading the entrance, and windows, sealing himself inside before allowing himself to collapse into the bed and rest.

Now he's not sure how much time has passed, just that it is daylight, and that the adrenaline of everything that's happened has now left this newly mortal body of his in shambles.

Freedom. He had wanted it so bad, and now he has it, but it's nothing like he had hoped.

He is angry and miserable, he wants to scream and cry, and he wants to go back in time and wring that lamb's neck when he has the chance instead of handing over the crown to the filthy traitor. He feels like a fool, powerless, and afraid.

Trapped by something even worse than the chains his siblings had used on him. Pain.

Speaking of the Red Crown's new wearer, as if summoned like a bat out of hell, a banging on the dresser Narinder had shoved in front of the curtain door to prevent any other pathetic followers from wandering in, or worse the said lamb.

"Narinder! It's breakfast! Well- lunch, you missed breakfast, I tried to have Noon bring you some food, but they said you did... Well, this." Narinder can only assume they're referring to the barricade.

"Leave me be, wretched traitor, I have better things to do than mingle with your pathetic following over subpar mortal slop." His voice almost cracks when he tries to shift his weight to lay on his back mid-sentence.

Thus he remains on his side facing away from the entrance, his back to the sound of the lamb's voice. Something that causes a trickling of unease to build in his mind, which he tries his best to ignore for now.

"No-can-do! At least, not right now, you need to eat! You're mostly mortal now, and even if age can't kill you, starving sure can!" There's a nervous laughter in their voice as they continue to stand outside.

The Lamb could easily get through the barricade, with his fucking powers that they stole. So why they aren't just barging in with no respect for their former god and master's privacy or personal space, he has no clue.

"Starving? How pitiful do you think I am? 'Mostly mortal' or not, I will survive without food for a day. Now leave me alone." He's not sure that even if he wanted to, he could claw his way out to get food. Or that his violently churning stomach could hold it down.

His whole body feels like it's slowly spinning from the splinting pain of his head and he's certain that if his stomach wasn't empty he'd have puked by now.

"Okay, listen, I get that after everything that's happened, you want to be alone, and I'll leave you alone! After you eat something, because, sure, a day won't kill you, but when was the last time you ate during your godlyhood? I'm willing to bet never, at least not during your time chained up, and that can't have translated well to your new form." Nothing has translated well to this new damn form, and it makes him snap.

"What part of leave me alone don't you understand!? I'm not eating even if you shove it down my throat!- Ack!" He hisses and tries to, in a burst of anger-fueled energy, shove himself around onto his back.

Instead, the effort sends a cascade of cramping through his back and down his arms.

His body spasms and curls in on itself and he grits his teeth trying to stop the whimpering from escaping his lips. He sounds pathetic. He is pathetic. Fates save him from the humiliation of the lamb having heard his pain at least...

"What was that about!? Are you okay in there!?" 

It's like the universe hates him.

That's the only real reasoning he can come up with. Fate, the universe, and everything in between literally hate him. And for what? Wanting to be more than what everyone told him he was?

He calls bullshit. Fate is bullshit, and the universe is bullshit, and everything in between is bullshit.

He wants to bury his head under his pillow and stay there until time itself brings this whole world crashing to an end.

"Narinder? Do you need help? If you don't answer I'm coming in!" Once more the Lamb is banging on the dresser-made door.

"I'm fine! Go away! Don't make me tell you again!" The threat comes out strangled and weak.

Still, there is a long moment of silence. For a moment he lets himself hope that the usurper has done as he's asked, and left, but with no footsteps away to confirm this, he knows they are still out there. Perhaps carefully debating their next sentence.

"... I know I'm the last person you want to see, let alone accept help from, and trust me when I say right now the feeling is mutual, but Narinder... If you are in pain... Or you're sick and that's why you're not eating, please, just tell me... I'm only trying to help." Help?

Help?

"I think I'd rather lie down and let you kill me before I let you help me." The words are barely a hissed whisper, but he knows they hear him.

There's a sharp inhale and a frustrated groan. Along with footsteps pacing back and forth before they suddenly stop and respond again.

"Fine! But news flash One Who Waits! This is going to be a hard adjustment for you! And if you want to go through it alone and make it all the harder, then fine! Be alone! Stay in your shelter all day, every day, and starve! See if I care!" They shout at the door.

Sounding angry, and fed up.

"That's what I'm planning on doing!" It wasn't, but with the pain making it hard to move, it is now.

"Fine!" And he can hear them storming off, hooved feet kicking at the ground at random intervals as they do.

...

It's true. He'd rather suffer here alone than accept that traitors help.

You betrayed them first.

He saved their life! His pathetic Bishop kin would have executed them if he hadn't given them a new lease on life.

And all he asked was for a cult in his name, for them to free him from his chains, and return the crown to him.

And kneel and accept being sacrificed to you.

All of this... This pain, this headache, the dampness in the corners of his eyes that he's trying so hard to not let spread down his cheeks... It's all their fault.

They should have at least killed him. Why couldn't they at least finish the damn job? That pathetic, traitorous, coward. Keeping him alive just to suffer.

Surely they've done this on purpose? This was some twisted way to prolong his agony as if being imprisoned for thousands of years by his own family wasn't enough torture.

Damn them. Damn them and every last one of their dead kin.

He would rather starve. Starve to death and at least go on his own terms. Hell if he had the physical strength and a sharp enough tool he'd turn it on his wrist right now. The Lamb probably won't even come by to check on him for a long while after that spat.

So at least they would have a small respite before the cursed creature maybe resurrected them.

But no, his whole disgusting body was failing him. He would have to die the slow way.

In a sick way, he's curious about it. What does hunger feel like? Heket complained of it often, even while she was eating she would be complaining about needing another meal prepared. The Goddess of Famine knew hunger like no other.

But the concept was foreign to Narinder. He ate sometimes when he was a god. The feeling was strange. Things tasted good, like fish, but they served no other purpose than to satisfy his tastebuds.

His stomach never longed for anything. Never ached in hunger pangs, never churned with nausea from eating something bad...

His mortal body... It will wither without food. His stomach will concave as he loses weight, and he'll become weaker, sicker, and lethargic. His skin will stretch over his ribs and bones making him look like a skeleton with fur... A horrific sight, befitting of the former and rightful God of Death.

A true testament to his fall from power, into a form as tragic as this, that decays at the mere lack of sustenance for a few days.

Or more. How long will it take? He wonders.

For his organs to start failing. His heart will go first, and the rest will quickly follow, having strained for so long to keep him alive... What will be the last thing he sees? Probably darkness. The light is too bright in the daytime for him to bear keeping his eyes open.

That's okay. He's never been afraid of the dark.

Kallamar was. He was scared of a lot of things though. Including him.

Heket wasn't. Nor Leshy. The two slept like logs at night, while Narinder would wander awake with Shamura- being nocturnal beings by nature.

Sometimes...

Sometimes when they were both still little, and Kallamar had a bad day and was scared to go to bed, Narinder would sneak into his room, and distract him. Annoy him really, but deep down, he thinks his older brother appreciated it. Not being alone.

It only lasted a few years though, just before the squid reached his teen years and became completely insufferable.

...

What would they all think of him now? Preparing himself to rot from starvation... Would they think him weak for accepting such a defeat? For giving in to this mortal body's suffering and allowing himself to perish in such a pitiful way...

Would they want him to live? No. No, they wouldn't...

They'd enjoy this... Seeing him turn to skin and bone. Watching him suffer in too much pain to even move, much like when he was chained.

It isn't until the light starts to fade and he can open his eyes finally that he realizes he failed.

And now the entire spot where his head rests on his pillow is wet with tears.

In the darkness, he can only really see what's in front of him. His head refuses to lift itself up or move without pain.

He is staring right at a window, the red curtains are closed, and it's blocked off with a turned sideways dark wooden table, but moonlight peaks in from the sides and top.

There is a side table. With a vase of Camellias in the corner. Just like the one Baal used to wear on his robes.

...

In the end, they all died for nothing, didn't they? The lambs, the Bishops, Aym, and Baal...

Everything he was trying to do... All of his elaborate plans...

They've all amounted to nothing.

It's then that another knock, soft and gentle rings through the room.

"Narinder? I want to... Apologize. I lost my temper earlier. It's just... Difficult to be nice to you. I mean, you... You know what? It doesn't matter right now. I've decided, that if you don't want to accept my help, I can't force you to. But, I still don't want you to starve, and I don't think you want to either so... I'll just leave some food out here for you. I don't really know what you like, but it's a fish bowl... Will that do?" The Lamb.

Narinder is thirsty he realizes, because when he goes to speak his mouth is dry, and he has to choke the words out.

"Fine... It's fine..." He calls, and he can hear them hesitating.

"Can I ask again if you're okay?"

"No." He responds much more firmly this time, his voice still gravelly.

"Right... Well, I'll bring breakfast tomorrow."

And they're gone. Footsteps softly fade away like a ghost in the night floating off to find a new victim to haunt.

...

Why couldn't they have just killed him?

~~~

The pain is still there when he wakes up again, and his mouth is disgustingly dry. It is early morning, and the light is not yet intolerable though, and he will take that victory for what little it is.

It smells like it rained last night.

Something about that makes him feel better.

Despite the oily feeling of his filthy fur, matted with blood and dirt. Despite his body still cramping with the phantom chains tightening around them like a serpent choking the life out of its prey.

Despite everything the smell of fresh, chilly damp air... Refreshes him.

He feels lighter. Cleaner. Content.

He takes a deep breath and for a moment... Everything is... Okay.

He opens his mouth, trying to breathe in the humidity of the air, hoping it will help with the soreness in his throat.

"I thought you hated the rain?"

"I don't hate the rain, I hate getting wet. My fur gets all heavy and takes forever to dry, and if I use a towel, it makes it all poofy, and the others tease me."

"I see."

"But I like watching the rain. And the smell of rain... It smells... Like the sky's cleaning the earth. Making everything as good as new again."

And then... Everything comes rushing back to him.

Like an anvil falling onto his chest, and it's hard to breathe as he chokes on a loud, surprised sob. Tears invade his eyes, flowing down his face onto the pillow.

Nothing is okay. That peace he felt... Just a cruel trick of his mind, making him forget.

A momentary respite before the world came crashing back down on him. He can never be content again. Never be okay or at peace.

He is angry. Frustrated. Grieving. Confused about what he's grieving. Their deaths? Their souls are trapped eternally in a hellish limbo, re-living their deaths so that they can feel the same pain he had felt for thousands of years... That's what he'd wanted.

For them to suffer.

And yet still his chest hurts and his lungs are heaving, and his cries are so loud he has to turn his face into the pillow to muffle them. Why does this anguish for his family that turned against him haunt him now?

It must be this body. This pathetic mortal body with its hyper-sensitive emotions, and non-existent pain tolerance. It's done nothing but weigh him down, dragging him below the waves.

Drowning him in sensations, feelings, and emotions he doesn't understand. Suffocating him in pain, and grief that he can see no end to. This form betrays him at every turn and it's not even been 42 hours.

At least he thinks it hasn't been.

Most of his first day is a haze, he remembers sleeping through the pain for the most part. Then arguing with the Lamb through the barricade. Then sleeping again.

After of course, contemplating his inevitable starvation. And after speaking to the lamb again...

"Can I ask again if you're okay?"

They're going to bring him breakfast soon. He doesn't know if they'll come inside and set it down or just leave it on the ground outside for him.

Would he even be able to go get it?

It's now that he starts to realize some of the pain has subsided. Everything is still cramping, and his head still throbbing, but with the smell of the rain and the growling of his stomach...

He's able to turn onto his back and only has to stop for a minute to grit his teeth and breathe for a moment. The fur around his eyes and cheeks is still wet with tears, and his chest is still heavy. He tries to focus on the smell of rain, but it does little to ease his thoughts.

All it does is remind him of simpler times.

Before the pain, and the headache, and the nausea, and the humiliation of defeat still burning through his veins.

It's getting brighter in the room, and he's able to take a deep stuttered breath as his eyes close to block out the painful light of morning. He should get the sniffling under control before the lamb gets here.

The last thing he needs is for that malicious sheep to know he's been crying- because Narinder knows that the damned creature is too old to still be considered a lamb. Has been since before the bishops ever went to execute them, but he knows his siblings never cared for technicalities.

Hell at some point they probably even started enjoying committing mass genocide of all sheep to prevent his freedom. Rams, ewes, and lambs, none were spared. All precautions taken to keep him locked away... They must have hated him so much to turn so ruthless. To become feared monsters, rather than beloved gods.

All to keep him caged.

By the time the sun has risen and the room is painfully bright, like clockwork, the lamb is knocking on the 'door' of the shelter.

"Narinder? Are you awake? I still don't know exactly what you like to eat, so I brought you a mixed meal. I see you didn't eat the fish, so I'll throw that out I guess..." They call, and he struggles not to groan.

He had kind of wanted that fish. He liked fish and it's been a long... Long time since he's had the chance to eat any. But what the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn't fucking move.

And he was still standing strong on not asking for help from his usurper.

He could move a bit more today though. He could at least try and sit up and eat... Then again, he doubts he'll be able to move the dresser out of the way to grab the food.

He could ask the lamb to bring it inside as a plan B. That doesn't count as helping him. Right? But does he want the lamb to see him in this state?

Absolutely not.

So he's back to plan A. Starve.

Sounds good enough for him. Or at least it does until his stomach decided to growl obnoxiously loud.

"See! I knew you were hungry! Please, just come take the damn bowl, I don't want to leave it on the ground, the bugs or birds might get it! Or Theeno. He steals food a lot. I'm working on that." So they are going to make another fight out of this.

"I'll come and get it when I'm ready! And if your damn follower tries to nab it then he can expect my claws across his face!" He hisses, and the Lamb lets out an exaggerated sigh.

"You're getting on my nerves, Narinder, can I at least just come in and set it down?" Hm. An opening for plan B... He still doesn't want the Lamb to see him...

He's buried mostly in blankets and pillows, so if he tosses his aching body back towards the window, he doubts the Lamb would truly get a good look at him...

And then your back will be exposed, clear as day for a second knife to find purchase.

He tries to shake away the insecurity, and it's not hard when his stomach growls once more. What's the worst the sheep could do? Kill him? It's what he wants anyway.

Is it?

He just barely holds in a painful groan as he turns back onto his side, curling even further into himself as he does.

"Fine. But I'm not getting up, move the dresser yourself." He calls, only mildly breathless, as he tries to steady his breathing again.

"Great! I was kinda gonna come in anyway if you didn't respond." Oh, if he could move...

He might take his chances trying to wring their neck.

Instead, he clenches his teeth to keep the anger from seething out and keeps his ears tuned into the sound of the dresser being easily shoved aside, the sound of wood grating against wood.

"Okie-Doki, I'll just put this right here. That okay?" He can feel their black beady eyes on him, with their burning red pupils.

"Whatever, it's fine. Make sure you put that dresser back on your way out." He grumbles, flinching only slightly when hears the lamb step closer to him.

At the clear sight of said flinch they stop moving.

"Of course. Anything else you need? Are you okay? I was thinking about building a few upgrades onto your shelter since you clearly don't plan on leaving, and I can see having to use the bathroom becoming a problem in the near future. And bathing."

Right. Of course, this body is going to need to use the bathroom. And even when he was a little godling, he needed to bathe regularly. He hasn't had a bath since before he was imprisoned.

Poor Aym and Baal. standing beside a god that reeked of blood and death for all that time. He had grown jaded to the stench of death, but he was still aware that it must not be pleasant.

"Do whatever you want, so long as you don't disturb me." It would make it more convenient for his solitude, and prevent him from having to bite the bullet and ask for help to be carried to the outhouses- because he was not going to shit himself anytime soon.

God or not, he had to keep some of his dignity intact.

"Right, no disturbing your wallowing, got it. I'll set to those renovations ASAP, I'll even do them myself so none of the followers accidentally annoy you and get killed." He snorts at that. Almost laughs.

"Wise decision."

And like that, his dresser is being pulled back into place, with what sounds like little to no effort.

...

His stomach growls again.

Now to get this body to sit up and eat...

... This is going to take a while.

Chapter #2 of my fanfiction, Cult of the Lamb: Redemption is out now on Ao3! Half an hour early too! It's Rooney_2108, and the full chapter will be out here on Tumblr tonight around 8:30ish pm. Narinder is still in pain and says some mean things. Lamb is also, no longer having a good time. Hope you all enjoy reading!

Homies, I've been listening to Conan Gray's 'The Cut That Always Bleeds' on repeat for hours while finishing up the writing for chapter #4 of Cult of the Lamb: Redemption. And can I just say, that even though not all the lyrics fit perfectly with my story, this song radiates angsty Narilamb vibes.

It's also one of my favorite Conan Gray songs, so 10 out of 10, would highly recommend it.

Cult of the Lamb: Redemption Chapter #4

TW: Depiction of painkilling herbs being eaten- aka one loopy-as-hell cat.

Realizations - Narinder

Narinder is not a poet. Not a writer, or a master of words.

So it is no surprise that Lamb's confession stunned him into silence.

"And I wanted you to care so much, but you didn't."

How is he supposed to care if he didn't fucking know? That's not fair of them to hold that against him. It's not fair for them to act like some heartbroken beau that he led on, and then tossed aside.

And then they had the audacity to leave before he could even find a way to respond.

He supposes a part of him is relieved they're not kneeling in front of him anymore while he's trying to sort through his thoughts.

They cared about him. What does that even mean? In the context of a god and a follower?

He thinks he knows exactly what Lamb means, but he'll be damned if he just assumes...

He tries to look back and pinpoint the moments that could give him some kind of hint, or insight into what they mean. Moments that he somehow missed the first time around.

But looking back, all of his memories feel hazy.

Like a terrible, violent fever dream of being so angry, in pain, waiting... Then the betrayal. Every time they try and think back on moments with the Lamb they are greeted by that moment.

When they refused to give the Red Crown back, and instead chose to raise their blade to him.

And every time he is reminded of that moment, he is filled with this cold, dead weight in his chest that he wants to call rage but he knows it's something different.

Hurt.

And hurt made him angry.

Why did it hurt so much? Because he let himself become fond of the wretched beast, he tells himself. He grew attached, even though he knew exactly how things were meant to end.

But they didn't end that way, did they? And now here he is. Alone.

Looking down at his bandages, he can still feel the cooling, refreshing sensation of the medical salve, easing the soreness of his wounds. It didn't help at all with the cramping in his muscles, or aching in his bones, causing the horrible shaking throughout his limbs.

But a feeling that trumps the cramping, or the cooling of the medicine are the traces... The traces of Lamb's touch linger all over his body. His arms, around his ankles, his back and torso. Everywhere he tries to focus his attention he feels them.

Such light, careful care, embedded all over him deeper than the injuries left by his chains.

It had made him forget how angry he was, and say things he shouldn't have... Feel things he shouldn't have.

Things like that horrible fondness, that make him want to hear Lamb's laughter again. That makes him want to hold them in his hand, and hope that they're bold enough to duck under his veil again so he can see them better...

They were so close to him, and when they pulled away, he grabbed them. Not wanting to lose the feeling. The momentary peace that being so close to someone after so long brings. Even if that person is them. The one who...

Who makes him so hurt and so angry every time he thinks about them. About what they did, or what they're doing now. Being so kind, and so damn sincere that he wants to believe them, but he can't.

He can't trust them, he or be fond of them, and he certainly can't care about them, because they took everything from him. His power. His divinity. His dignity.

The only thing they left him with is his life, and he's still 50/50 on whether that's worse.

His torso has yet to be bandaged. The lamb left so quickly, that he can only assume they are going to get this 'Miki' person to do the stitches and finish wrapping him up.

He doubts it will be the last time he sees Lamb while he's... 'Unwell' like this. So he needs to figure out what to say when they do come face to face again.

Does he need to say something? Does he want to say something? Should he confront them about the unfairness of this situation? Or just let it go and pretend it never happened?

Narinder has already come to terms with the fact that he's stuck accepting their help and afterward being stuck as a mere follower- he'll be damned before he has to do any pathetic chores or menial tasks though.

Now, though... He's conflicted. He had planned to ignore Lamb after he was healed and didn't need their assistance anymore... But he wants answers. He wants to know what Lamb means when they say they care, and why their admission confuses him so much.

Makes him want to clarify things.

Tell them that he might not have... Cared in the same way he thinks they mean, but that he had... Preferred them to... Past vessels?

Fates, he feels like a fool.

If he wasn't in so much pain, he'd throw himself back onto the bed and bury his head under the pillows to try and block out all these thoughts and feelings.

"Um... Hello? Narinder, sir? May I come in?"

He's still leaning over the bed, glaring daggers at the empty ground where Lamb had been when the clear-toned voice interrupts his inner conflict.

"Come in." He sighs, and the fennec fox's head pops through the curtains, looking around before stepping inside.

The light from outside has turned a deep orange and pinkish tone. The sun is setting.

She's holding a small wooden box of well-organized metal tools and supplies, and she strides up to him, holding her silence, and focused gaze as kneels behind him, and examines his back.

Narinder wants to whirl around and hiss at her to back the fuck up, but he doesn't have the physical energy or pain tolerance to do so.

"I'm guessing you're Miki?" He sighs, giving up on doing anything but sitting down and just dealing with whatever he's handed.

"Yes. I take care of most medical-related issues around camp. The Lamb was right, these do need stitches, a lot. I imagine it's just as bad in the front. Are these scars anything to worry about?" She points at the two identical scars running just below his pecs, and he shakes his head.

"No. I've had those since before all this. Top surgery scars, I don't think any of you followers know what that is..." He sighs, and she shrugs.

"We have top surgery, it's just not as... Safe. As it could be. I'm working on making it safer. We can talk more about it later because I do have questions regarding where your surgery was done and by whom, but for now..." She pauses to meet his gaze and holds up the curved needle in her hand.

"This is going to take a while so settle in and lay down on your stomach. I can offer you some herbs to numb the pain, but they'll make you very tired, and kind of loopy. It's up to you if you want them though." She steps back to give him space to move.

Lamb clearly didn't tell her that he can't move very well without help, and he isn't about to admit it.

So he settles for trying to force his body to move through the pain.

His back is the worst of it, digging a deep growl out of his throat as he tries to twist himself around, onto the bed on his stomach, without moving the blanket off of him and giving the poor follower an eyeful.

"Do you need assistance? I understand that you can't move very well, but I wanted to see it for myself to analyze. Can you describe the kind of pain you are experiencing?" Ah, so she does know.

"It's a cramping. So bad that I can't stop shaking, or get my limbs to do what I want. My back and legs are the worst." He explains as she places a slightly too firm grasp on his shoulders and mildly manhandles him to lay on his back.

Giving her a full view of his injuries.

"Hmm. I have dealt with a few similar cases in people who haven't moved for long periods, usually only a few months, but years... Well, I'll tell you now, it's not an easy fix. Do you want the herbs? They won't take effect immediately, but it will make everything less painful, stitches and cramping. They'll also probably put you to sleep for the rest of the night." She talks slightly faster and far more monotone than he expected for someone who follows Lamb.

Something about the lack of emotion in her voice creates a professional air in the whole shelter. An air that makes him feel far safer than he's felt in his entire time being here.

"I'll take them. How do I get rid of the cramping?" He asks as he hears her shuffling around the supplies.

She moves around and he turns his head to look at her as she holds out a small leaf-bound bundle, he swallows it quickly as the bitter taste nearly makes him gag.

"I don't want you to push yourself too much because of your outward injuries, but the only real way to help regain your strength and control over your limbs is to exercise and stretch them. Water therapy would be best, but submerging your stitches isn't an option." She explains, her hands poking and prodding at his back, pulling painfully at some of the deeper wounds.

Far less gentle than Lamb had been.

"Watch it." He hisses, in pain, and then lets his curiosity win. "And what's water therapy?"

"Swimming, essentially. A gentler alternative to normal physical therapy. Either way, you'll need someone to oversee it, myself ideally, but I can train the Lamb to aid you instead if you are not comfortable with my presence." He only hums in response.

His body doesn't hurt as much, and as she said, he's becoming drowsy. His eyelids are heavy, and the shaking in his arms is subsided. He hardly even feels the sharp piercing as it follows a horizontal path around his waist.

He's half asleep when it stops and moves up around his left shoulder blade. Then right. Then the same monotone voice asks him to turn over so she can 'evaluate the damage'.

He would think that the newfound lack of agony coursing through his bones would make it much easier. Instead, the fatigue pulls him down and makes his whole body turn to dead weight. She's talking again, and he peeks his eyes open but quickly decides that whatever it is, isn't as important as sleep.

So he closes them again.

~~~

"You've done well vessel. Soon enough, my chains will be broken, thanks to your ruthless efficiency." He's staring at them, as they sit in his hand, only a few inches from his face.

They're awfully silent this visit. Usually, they break into a ramble about the crusade they had just died during, or the way things around the cult are going. And Narinder would listen. Their voice is soothing. Easing the burning tension in his body the moment they arrive, and look up at him with that radiant smile, so overjoyed to see him again.

~~~

He opens his eyes when there are small hands- the fennec fox's hands trying to lift him to roll him over. He can't recall her name... Miku? Mimi? Something like that. She curses under her breath.

He tries to aid her in her weak attempts, even though his mind is hazy. But he must have done something right because now he's on his back, and the piercing is on his stomach now so he closes his eyes again.

 ~~~

He likes this one. This vessel. A small, innocent-looking Lamb, with all the fire and maliciousness of a thousand suns, scorching all who stand against them. Yet when they stand before him, they are soft-spoken. They laugh a lot, usually at something he does or says.

He doesn't know what's so funny, but the sound is like music, so he doesn't question it.

Others, like Ratau, were weak, but not just that, they were so... Boring. They didn't speak much, didn't respond well, and only ever bowed to him before being sent back to the overworld. 

~~~

When he opens his eyes again it's to the sound of Lamb's voice.

"Narinder, I'm just gonna help hold you up while Miki wraps the bandage around you- oof! Okay- this, uh, this works. I guess." Their laughter is nervous, hesitant, and not the carefree one he would much rather grace his ears.

He is leaning forward, his head resting against them. They don't smell like blood, or death like he expects now that they are the God of Death. No, they smell like they always have. Like wildflowers, and fresh air after rain.

They're warm, and he bunts his head against the side of their face, before burying it into their neck, shutting his eyes again.

~~~

"What troubles you, my vessel? You have not spoken, by now Aym and Baal are ready to kick you out themselves." He chuckles, as he looks down at the mentioned twins, who side-eye glance at each other and shrug in agreement to the statement.

His dear Lamb looks up with startled eyes, and he can't help but chuckle. They must not have realized how obvious they were being...

"Nothing! Really it's nothing, well, not nothing, nothing, just... I want to tell you something, but it's hard to... Word. And I don't think that right now is the best time..." They ramble now.

Perhaps he shouldn't have said anything...

~~~

He opens his eyes this time because Lamb laughs again. A good laugh at something the small fox said. Soft, but sincere, and he can feel it reverberate through their chest. He wraps his arms up and around them to pull him closer and they become stiff as a board.

He doesn't care though, as his hands rest at their waist, and a deep rumbling is sounding from somewhere... Is it coming from him? Is he purring? He hasn't purred in a long time, and it's hard to recognize the sound.

He shoves his face into his Lamb's soft wool as he closes his eyes for what's hopefully the final time...

~~~

"Silence, Lamb, you need not speak of it if you wish not to. I only wish to know, so that I might ease the worries off of your face. I much prefer your smile." He raises his other hand to lift his Lamb's chin carefully with the tip of his clawed pointer finger.

They smile as they meet his eyes, but it is still nervous, and unsure. They glance away from him, their eyes darting around the afterlife, refusing to meet his gaze.

"I... Appreciate that, but I think I'll save what's on my mind for later. How about after I've gotten you out of these chains? Deal?"  They now look a bit more energetic, as they jump up, and duck down, and before he has time to process it...

There they are. Underneath his veil, peering up into his blood-soaked eyes. Smiling, without a care in the world, as if what they've just done isn't enough to get them massacred by any other God in their right mind.

They lean against his nose, and he is suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that they smell like wildflowers and fresh air after rain. Such a refreshing... Lively scent. As if they aren't working for the God of Death, but rather frolicking fields with a God of Life.

They rest their arms on his snout and blink up at him, tilting their head ever so slightly in curiosity when he remains still in stunned silence.

They then laugh when he laughs, and he wants them to stay right there for as long as it might take for him to grow sick of their presence. But he's not sure when that might be. A century or two? Maybe three if they don't run out of things to talk about too quickly.

But alas. There are still Bishops to defeat, a cult to maintain, and chains to be broken.

Perhaps before he has them kneel to sacrifice themselves to him, he can ask them what it is they had planned on saying.

"Deal."

~~~

He wakes one final time when he's being carefully laid back onto the mattress and a soft voice is mumbling. His Lamb's voice.

Something about changing the bed sheets in the morning, and the current ones being bloodied.

"Lamb..." His voice is so quiet, it's a miracle he can even hear himself.

He has a tight hold on their fleece.

"Yes, Narinder?" Their voice is wobbly, and he tries to force his eyes open.

He wants to see them, but he's so tired.

"You planned to confess... After I was freed... How could I not see that you..." How could he not realize that they loved him?

Was he so oblivious? He could have read their mind at any time, but he didn't... He could have seen their feelings. He could have also seen their betrayal coming, but somehow, this is less important than their feelings.

"I... You're all loopy, Nari, go to sleep, and I'll bring you breakfast in the morning." They pry his hand off of their fleece, and he lets them, with a soft hum.

"Nari? I like that..." Nari. His siblings used to call him that when he was still very small, but stopped when he got older.

When he got the Red Crown.

"Hm. I'll call you it more often than if you promise not to try and kill me when you're less high." They stand up and pull one of the blankets up over him, and then they're walking away.

No. Stay.

Please stay.

His brain screams, but his mouth can't keep up, and the fog in his mind is so heavy and his limbs are so heavy and his heart is so heavy, and everything is just so damn heavy...

His heavy thoughts fill with thoughts of Lamb. His Lamb. Who smells like wildflowers and fresh air after rain. His Lamb. Who he was once so fond of, but now can't bring himself to feel such fondness without it reside beside pain. And anger. And distrust.

And they are in pain, angry, and distrustful too.

So how do either of them fix it?

~~~

When he wakes up he is alone, and his head is still hazy, and his body is in agony.

Stiff, and sore, his torso is immovable, a dull throbbing making him groan in pain. His arms and legs hurt just the same but aren't as bad as they were.

Maybe he's just too focused on his torso to care about the tremors as they start racking his arms again. Or, maybe it's the haunting realization of his own drug-induced actions last night that really keeps him frozen in his place, eyes wide, staring at the ceiling.

He didn't know he could be so... Touchy. When tired. But the smell of them is still swirling around in his mind, and it makes it hard to focus on anything else he did.

He doesn't remember all of it, not clearly anyway, from having been in and out of consciousness. But he remembers the moment Lamb arrived. When they laughed. When he leaned forward onto them. When he shoved his head into the wool on their neck. When he started purring so deeply he could feel it vibrating his whole body...

The room is cleared of all medical supplies, and the nightstand is cleaned off.

He's not exactly sure what time it is, or how long he's been asleep, but he knows, from the light slowly brightening around the edges of the window and doorway curtains that it's close to morning.

And that Lamb promised to bring him breakfast. So he needs to get his thoughts in order quickly.

He still needs to confront Lamb about their sudden admission to him. Then about that day... That distinct memory replaying in his mind helped him connect the dots even in his herb-induced state.

Lamb had wanted to confess to him after they freed him, and he...

Guilt is still a foreign emotion to him. He used to feel it in small amounts when he was a child and would get into spats with Leshy, or Heket and say something he didn't mean.

The worst time was during a thunderstorm that he had gotten caught in on his way back to the temple. He doesn't remember where he was returning from or when the first strike of thunder sent him running out of his own damn skin, but he does remember hiding.

Hiding, terrified in the small hollow of an old tree trunk. The mud soaking around his feet, and the bottom of his robe. When Shamura found him he was so afraid he hadn't wanted to get out from under the trunk, and when his older sibling reached in to grab him, he'd just... Lashed out.

His claws hooked on Shamura's forearm damn good, and he knew he drew blood when they tried to pull away and his claws yanked out of the skin it was caught on.

He felt the wave of guilt hit him harder than the fear and strike as quickly as the lightning of the storm around him.

And no matter how many times he apologized, or how many times Shamura tried to assure him it was alright, he was haunted by the feeling.

The guilt. That made his heart sink like lead in water every time he saw the paper-thin scars on Shamura's arm.

But all those times happened long ago before he was even given the Red Crown. Since then, this degree of guilt has snuck up on him twice. Both because of Lamb.

When he had snapped at them the other and they rushed out of the room on the verge of tears, and then now.

Feeling this overwhelming guilt because of this horrible realization that the entire time he had been waiting for the day they would sacrifice their life to him...

They were waiting to tell him that they were in love with him.

He wonders how they felt in that moment. The second he asked them to kneel, did they feel the same sinking dread in their chest that he felt when they chose not to?

Did they feel the same horrible dread when they marched to their death earlier that year, standing before his kin as they prepared to kill the final lamb?

If so then it truly confirms the thought that's been plaguing him for the last hour.

He's no better than them. Hell, he might be worse. At least they didn't trick any of the lambs they were slaughtering into trusting them. Or become selectively blind when said lamb fell in love with them.

Speaking of the new God of Death...

The moment that they knock on his door and step through the curtain with a soft, sad smile, and a warm breakfast in their hands he realizes something that makes all of his other realizations that much more horrid...

He never would have asked them to kneel, if he had known they loved him.

Maybe I even would have...

"Morning, Nari. I brought another mixed meal, everything is bland and seasonless, but there's a bit more variety. I'm also going to get started on those upgrades for your shelter. Nothing perfect, but function for now." They sit on the bed next to him, and he's glad to find that he can sit up a little easier on his own, without as much pain as before.

At least in his arms. His torso is irritated and sore as shit. Lamb moves to grip his arm and help him, and he bites his own tongue to stop from purring at the touch.

The herbs clearly haven't worn off completely just yet...

Looking them in the eye there are a million things he wants to say but what comes out isn't exactly what he's expecting.

"I'm sorry."

A simple two words as Lamb sits beside him to help him eat, just like they've done the day before. They freeze in place, staring at him with widened eyes, and he stares back.

As stunned as he is, he's surprised to find that he doesn't regret the words.

He's not sure that his own anger has subsided. Hell, looking at them now, glancing at the Red Crown on their head that was once his... He can still feel the flickering flames of frustration, and the much stronger flame of humiliation and embarrassment.

But neither are as strong as they once were. The raging wildfire has died down, turning to something more... Tired.

He just wants all this pain to stop, and to be able to move freely again.

He wants to be free.

It's all he thinks he wants anymore. Before the desire for freedom lived closely beside his desperation for revenge.

To destroy the other Bishops. His family. Make them pay for locking him up in the first place.

At some point... Maybe after the thousand-year mark, or maybe two thousand years, freedom became his main priority.

Revenge became an... Added bonus.

And now? It's all he's been thinking about- thoughts of Lamb not counting.

Wanting so desperately for the pain to subside so that he can once again see the world outside of this shelter.

And all the anger still buried inside is just a footnote in comparison to that desire.

So when he looks into the Lamb's eyes and sees their confusion, he doesn't have it in him to take the words back or snap at them.

He can't forgive them, at least not now. Perhaps not ever. But he knows he's tired of being mad. Tired of lashing out every time they reach out to help, and then feeling guilty an instant later.

And he is Sorry.

Sorry that he didn't know. Sorry that he never gave them a chance to tell him. Sorry, that...

In the end, he really wasn't any better than his siblings. Maybe he still isn't. He's not sure anymore.

What he is sure of, is that even if he's still angry, they have a right to be angry too, and yet...

They're helping him anyway. Caring for his wounds, feeding him, helping him move, and upgrading his shelter so he doesn't have to leave if he doesn't want to, and can just spend the rest of his immortal life locked indoors...

And all he's doing is complaining, snapping at them, and making them cry.

Even his shitty siblings, if they were here, would agree that that's not fair.

"You're... Sorry?" They repeat, head tilting, unsure, and stiff as a board.

"Yeah." He wants to lean forward towards them again but resists, grabbing the blankets below him just to keep himself anchored in place.

"I'm still angry at you. So... So angry. I hate that you spared me. I hate how pathetic, weak, and humiliated I feel. I hate that you're the one that's made me feel this way... But I... I recognize that you're angry too and that what I did was not... I shouldn't have... Fuck, I don't know..." He sighs, lifting a hand to drag down his face, and pausing to think of his next words carefully.

At this point he's glaring down at his remaining hand as his claws dig into the blanket, refusing to look back up at Lamb.

"I don't know that I regret what I did, but I regret that I hurt you when I did it. I regret that I didn't know because if I did... I'm not sure things would have played out the way they did. But we can't change that now, so I'm sorry. Sorry, that I was, and that I have been, ignorant." He finishes his botched apology.

It's not elegant. Not exactly what he wants to say either, but it will have to do, because now his head hurts.

He just wants them to respond already, but glancing up, the deep frown and contemplating look on their face tells him their gonna need a minute.

A long. Long minute.

"You're wrong..." They breathe, the words a whisper in the silent room.

His eyes dart to theirs, but they carefully avoid his questioning gaze.

"Do you remember much of last night? When you were talking to me before I left?" They ask, setting the bowl on the bed beside them, and bringing their hands into their lap, twiddling their thumbs.

I remember I didn't want you to leave...

"I remembered the day you ducked under my veil. The action distracted me from the conversation, but I remembered it last night. That day... You were planning to tell me that you... Cared." He doesn't dare say the real word. Not out loud. "Weren't you?"

"I was. I had this silly idea that... That after you were freed, I would confess, and you would accept, and I would show you the camp and everything I've built for... For you. And that maybe we could... I don't know. It's stupid, thinking about it now." They stand up and move around the bed towards the window.

Still avoiding his eyes, as they follow their movements with far too much interest.

Lifting a hand, with a single finger he cracks open the curtain just slightly, letting the morning light peek inside, as they look out.

"But then... Everything happened... You were right when you called me weak. When you were defeated, and I had the choice to spare or kill you, I was weak. I couldn't bring myself to do it, because a part of me still hoped that if I spared you, you would..." They let out a shaky sigh, and finally turn to look at him.

A pleading look in their eyes, begging him to understand so they wouldn't have to say it out loud.

"Oh." A dim response. But what the hell else could he say?

"Yeah. Oh." They give a dry laugh, and move back, sitting on the edge of the bed, before sliding down onto the floor.

They rest their hands over their eyes.

"But you're wrong about me being angry at you. I'm angry at myself, and every time I look at you I'm just... Miserable. Sad that nothing happened the way I wanted it to, and now here we are. You're wounded and in pain, and I'm so conflicted and confused about this." They motion up to the Red Crown.

"I mean, I'm a god now. I never planned on that! I've been leading this cult with the expectation that you'd take over once I freed you, but instead, I'm going to be their leader for who knows how long! And I can't even get half of them to stop wanting to eat their own shit!" Their voice rises the more they rant, and he snorts at the last part.

"Yeah, well, followers aren't as smart as they used to be. Back when The Old Faith was at its best, Shamura had a strong school system in place, and Kallamar was an expert in medicine and hygiene, sharing his knowledge with his most devout so that they could spread the word of what is and isn't good for you. Such as eating shit." He comments, a small smile gracing his face.

"But that was... A long time ago. Since my imprisonment, the Bishop's wounds, and the genocide of the lambs, everything has deteriorated. Now those who remain are just trying to survive. No shepherd to guide them." Another realization, he notes as he speaks.

"You are the only god remaining now, Lamb. The only one that can create so much as a semblance of society, so that they no longer have to struggle. So that they can actually enjoy life before their bodies wither, and they have to surrender their souls to you. The new God of Death." He sits up and tosses his mildly aching legs over the side of the bed.

Moving as slow as he can for his torso's sake, and relying solely on what little arm strength he has, and a bit on gravity, he pushes himself down onto the floor. Next to Lamb. The blanket is dragged down with him.

"Well, that really makes me feel better." They grumble, looking at him and his tail involuntarily brushes against their arm, an attempt at comfort.

"I'm not trying to make you feel better-" Liar. "Just telling the truth."

"... I've been leading them long enough to know what I need to do, I just don't know how. Some of my more valued followers like Noon, and Miki are trying to help, but neither of them knows much about the divine aspect of it, like shepherding souls, maintaining the afterlife, etc..." They lift a hand up, grabbing the crown of their head and bringing it down in front of them to examine.

"I do." He blurts, not fully thinking about how much it sounds like an offer.

They too jump, head darting to look at him.

"You'll help me?" They ask, disbelief heavy in their voice.

"Maybe. If your cult doesn't fall apart before I can breathe without pain, then maybe- and that's a very strong maybe. I'll consider giving you some pointers on how to be a proper God of Death. A way to earn your forgiveness, since I doubt my words mean much to you." He subconsciously moves his tail again, brushing it along the side of their face.

When he sees it, he quickly grabs the offending part and pins it to the ground. He's grateful when Lamb chooses not to mention it, only glancing at the now pinned tail with a soft giggle.

A giggle that makes his fur stand on end in a fluttering feeling he can't even begin to identify.

Embarrassment. That's what he's going to call it. Embarrassment.

"They do mean something, Narinder... I know it took a lot for you to say them, so thank you, for apologizing..." Their smile drops, and they turn their gaze away.

"But?" He can feel it coming from a mile away.

"But I think it's going to take a lot more to fix things than an apology. I'm still not even confident that when you get better you won't just try to attack me and get the crown back then..." They're right to be paranoid about that.

He's thought about it. A lot.

Is still kind of thinking about it.

"Right. Well, I don't plan on doing that right now, we'll see about later though." He can't help but smirk at the small glare they send his way.

"I guess I can live with that. And for the record, I'm sorry too. Not for choosing not to die, but that you feel weak and humiliated because of me. But you should know, Narinder, that you are not pathetic. You're strong, and I beat you by a hair, and now, here you are, dealing with a pain that no normal mortal alive could tolerate... You're..." They pause, meeting his eyes for a long moment.

There's something there. Something akin to adoration- much like the kind they used to wear on their face when they looked up at him when he was a god.

It makes his fur stand on end again in embarrassment.

Embarrassment that's all it is.

He has to break eye contact, turning to look at the window, and flinching when light hits his eyes. The small opening Lamb made earlier still bleeding light into the room.

They notice his flinch.

"Oh, right, your eyes. Sorry." They stand up, quickly, moving a single step forward to close the curtain properly.

"It's fine." He hadn't even realized how close they'd been. It was just so natural. Being so close to them...

It felt strangely right.

Now though, with the distance between them, the spell is broken. Even they seem to realize it.

"Right well, I do have a lot to do today so... Why don't I switch your bedsheets, get you back in bed, get you fed, and then work on those shelter upgrades, hmm?" There is a newfound pep in their step.

And in a second they're bouncing across the room with an energy that does not match the conversation they've been having for the last half-an-hour.

A mask. One that they put on so easily it's almost frightening.

But he doesn't complain. He's gone through enough emotions to last him a week, and right now, he just wants to eat and go back to sleep.

Of course, Lamb isn't going to make it that easy.

"Sooo, about last night, was it the herbs that made you all cuddly or am I just that adorable?" They look back at him with a teasing smile that could light up the darkest of nights.

"Shut the fuck up-!!"

~~~

Fun fact: Miki is based on one of my favorite followers from my first-ever game, a game that my little cousin ended up deleting when I let him play on my Switch. That's the real betrayal here. I still haven't forgiven that 11-year-old punk.

I'm thinking about making an 'introduction to the featured and background OC's post.' What do y'all think?

Twisted Wonderland - He Hears You Singing (About Him)

Twisted Wonderland Writings Masterpost

Savanaclaw Edition, Octavinelle Edition

Prompt: While relaxing, and doing chores around the Ramshackle dorm for your weekend restoration of the barely standing building, your thoughts drift to love songs from your old world. You think of songs that remind you of your closest fellow NRC student and significant other, and end up singing one while you work.

Reader: GN reader - They/Them pronouns and they are referred to as 'MC/Prefect' in this one. And let's all just agree that MC is a great singer- cuz some of these songs have mad vocals that I would never dream of trying to sing myself with my incredibly average voice, and I imagine a lot of you are the same.

Included Characters: Heartslaybul Edition!

Warnings: None.

Request Rules & Information Here

~~~

Riddle Rosehearts - "Queen of Hearts" by We The Kings

- Doesn't mean to eavesdrop- truly he doesn't- but when he hears the opening lines of the song he can't help but pause, wondering if this is a song dedicated to the ACTUAL Queen of Hearts that he's just never heard before.

- He doesn't listen to popular music very often, he's more of a classical music while studying kind of person, but you have a rather impressive voice, and the song is honestly very... Sweet.

- He doesn't get some of the references in the verses, but the chorus is very charming, paired with your voice, and the bright smile on your face as you playfully sweep around the room (not very efficient for cleaning, but you are obviously having fun, so-).

- When you notice him, he turns a unique shade of red, stumbling out an apology for intruding, he just needs to talk to you about—what did he need to talk to you about again?

- He can't remember b-but he thought your singing was lovely! And you're clearly busy so you should get back to it! The cleaning part! N-not the singing! Unless you want to sing again!

- He would certainly love to hear you... If you are comfortable singing the song for him again that is?

"I've never heard that song before, but I liked it a lot... Would you mind singing it again? I'd love to hear yo- it again."

~~~

Trey Clover - "Coffee Cake" by Benson Boone

- He was only swinging by Ramshackle to drop off some spare baked goods that he just had extra of and totally didn't specifically make for you.

- Anyway-

- When he heard you singing he paused in his tracks, leaning against the doorway to listen to you singing with so much energy and a bright smile on your face.

- It's like you're having your own little concert while you dusted- occasionally using said feather duster as a makeshift microphone. It's adorable.

- He can't help but smile softly at the scene- he's unfamiliar with the song, and yet it fits your voice so well.

- A little startled when you notice him, but not at all ashamed- you were amazing, how could he not stop and stare? Now would you like to take a break with him and tell him all about that song and its meaning?

- He's already thinking of a dozen different coffee cake recipes now to share with you, the song stuck in his head, and he'll probably be humming it while he bakes for the next week, thinking about you the whole time.

"Oh, don't be embarrassed, I thought you sounded incredible. You should sing more often, perhaps while we bake some actual coffee cake together?"

~~~

Cater Diamond - "La Da Dee" by Cody Simpson

- He wasn't even planning to stop by Ramshackle today until Grim showed up at Heartslaybul complaining about you doing nothing 'fun' just 'boring chores' and while he had no intention of actually helping clean, he figured he'd at least grace you with his presence to liven things up and keep you company!

- It's totally not because this is the first opportunity he's had in weeks to spend some alone time with you- hahaha-

- The moment he hears you singing he whips out his phone at the speed of light, rushing to start recording the moment so he can hear your amazing voice singing the sweet, energetic love song over and over.

- When you spot him he is shameless about it, loudly brushing off any embarrassment on your part to immediately praise your voice and the song. Did you write that yourself? Oh, is it new? Who's it by? You have to send him a link! Oh, it's from your world? Oh, he's totes jealous! Your world has seriously great music!

- Will literally beg you to let him post that video of you singing, you were so amazing! Your pitch, tone, energy, all of it was perfect! You'd go Magicam famous!

- If you don't want it posted he'll pout and won't post it- but he certainly won't delete it either, after all, you might change your mind someday! (And he totally wants to go back and watch it on his own time but he's not admitting that.)

"You should totally join the Pop Music Club! You can tell us all about more music from your world- we can even try to play some covers of some of the songs! And you'd look amazing in a custom club outfit! Think of the Magicam posts, MC!"

~~~

Ace Trappola - "Wild Heart" by The Vamps

- Oh.

- Ohohohoho- You are never living this down.

- You can sing!? Not to mention that song! He's certain he's never heard it before but damn are you performing it well. He's got half a mind to pull a Cater move and record you for blackmail later- or just to have for himself.

- He tries to be sneaky- but at one point when you do a fun spin while belting the bridge- oh, he just can't help himself- grabbing you and spinning you in a circle with that mischievous, cocky smile of his and a loud teasing laugh.

- Huh, what are you embarrassed about? You sounded great! He had no idea you had such a great set of pipes on ya! You should sing for him again- that song was great too, were you thinkin' of him while singin' it? It sounds like a good description of him.

- He'll only lay off if you tell him he should help with the cleaning- to which he'll quickly lay off it in favor of dragging you off to help him with whatever trouble he came over in the first place to drag you into.

"Aww, come on, Prefect! Lemme hear you sing one more time! You sounded good, and that song was totally up my alley!"

~~~

Deuce Spade - "Last First Kiss" by One Direction

- Is entranced. Unlike the others who knew they were eavesdropping/knew it was a private moment, he doesn't really get the memo.

- He's too caught by surprise by your amazing voice and the song to realize he's staring in awe like a creep. It's rather romantic... And he can't help but fantasize for a moment that maybe- just maybe...

- And then you spot him. And he turns redder than Riddle when he's throwing a tantrum.

- He didn't mean to be weird or make you embarrassed he promises! He just thought you sounded really nice!!

- He will apologize sooo much until you assure him it's alright and to just not tease you. Tease you? How could he ever do that!? You were amazing! You sounded like a professional singer- at least to him, you did!

- You can go back to singing if you want- he'll even help you with your cleaning as an apology for barging in (totally not just an excuse to maybe hear you sing again while you work).

"I'm really sorry again! I just... Thought you sounded really nice is all... I'll help you with the chores to make up for it! But, feel free to go back to singing. I really liked that song..."

~~~

And that's all folks! My first-ever Twisted Wonderland fanfiction post! I hope I got the personalities right, please comment with your thoughts and opinions! Love ya, and see ya next post ~ Roo

Cult of the Lamb: Redemption - Chapter #1 Preview

Thoughts and opinions are welcome - be nice! (It will be posted in full on my Ao3 account Rooney_2108 first, then fully on Tumblr after.)

Pain - Narinder

Narinder didn't realize how much it would... Hurt.

To be free.

His arms hurt, his body hurt, and his head hurt.

As a god, he had never felt pain like this, which was the first of many signs that he was no longer divine.

And that terrified him. His arms hurt so badly he couldn't move them, and for a moment it felt like the ghosts of his chains still held him in place. His head ached from the light of the sun stabbing through the window of his home, into his light-sensitive eyes.

He can't move. His whole body feels like lead against the soft bed below him. Blankets weigh even heavier on top of him, adding to the feeling of being restrained. He wants to thrash around and escape from under them, but his limbs cramp up with every attempt he makes to move them.

And the jolt of fear that surges through him at that realization makes him want to scream out in agony and terror.

But centuries of captivity have taught him the uselessness of struggling. Have taught him patience. So he clamps his jaw shut and keeps his eyes sealed closed. Trying to listen.

He only just joined his usurpers cult as a follower yesterday, the adrenaline from their fight hadn't even left his system and suddenly he the damn Lamb was showing him to his own private grand shelter, set up farther away from the other followers for 'safety purposes.' Whether the Lamb meant for him or the rest of the cult he still isn't sure.

He didn't know how to respond, he was tired. So very tired. He had never felt tired before, but this mortal body... He secured the shelter as soon as the Lamb was gone. Barricading the entrance, and windows, sealing himself inside before allowing himself to collapse into the bed and rest.

Now he's not sure how much time has passed, just that it is daylight, and that the adrenaline of everything that's happened has now left this newly mortal body of his in shambles.

Freedom. He had wanted it so bad, and now he has it, but it's nothing like he had hoped.

He is angry and miserable, he wants to scream and cry, and he wants to go back in time and wring that lamb's neck when he has the chance instead of handing over the crown to the filthy traitor. He feels like a fool, powerless, and afraid.

Trapped by something even worse than the chains his siblings had used on him. Pain.

~~~

Sooo, that's a short preview of what's to come Pookies. I hope you enjoy the angst, and I will see you again when the chapter is released (drum roll please) tomorrow! On Ao3 at noon, and then on here around 8 or 9 pm.

Notes and helpful criticisms are welcome. But be polite. I'll cry if you're not. That's a threat.