#Bamsara's oc

[derpyjackarts]

When my semi-cotl OCs meets @bamsara's cotl oc Tyren.

and then Asta.

[lynaferns]

What if I make personifications of my computers?

I've been joking earlier with my brother about the new PC being like super big and offering a lollipop, because the box that came in had an orange lollipop at the bottom lol.

And my current PC being a grumpy old man because it growls at me and acts weird. But the guy is actually a good PC, it gets the work done, it's just that it's old and tired, and needs a cigarette, and maybe a heart transplant.

...

And my oldest PC from when I was a kid being a dry dusty grandpa unmoving in bed with coins covering its eyes because I made a funeral when it stopped working one day. I could only start it in safe mode.

[sophelisticated]

Me when I reread The Rehabilitation of Death by @bamsara for the 30th time 😏

OKAY ANOTHER SHORT FANFIC BUT THIS TIME ITS ACTUALLY NOT CRINGE AS HELL

Slight tw warning and spoiler warning for The Rehabilitation Of Death the latest chapter (specifically takes place day after chapter 22)

Bamsara if this is cringe let me know 🙏

The Lamb knows many things. Has watched many deaths, been the reason of many deaths, and has experienced many deaths. No matter what The Lamb wants, death will always be there.

But Death comes Life. Beginnings, growth, anew. They are not different, yet not the same. Twins of different fonts, perhaps. This is one of the many things The Lamb has learned over the centuries.

A God tear sits in their palm. Glistening and smooth, the halos around it moving slowly. It glows in The Lamb’s palm before they drop it in the crown’s inventory. The crown floats silently in front of Lambert for a second longer than usual, before gliding back up to sit atop the lamb’s head. It has been a bit more tense lately with Narinder, the crown’s red eye reminds them of the cat’s. The Lamb’s eyebrows furrow in confusion when Narinder seems to be looking at something far off into the trees. Odd..? But that seems to be a thing he likes to do lately. But Lambert and Narinder are slightly injured, and the healing process was too slow.

“Nari? Whatcha’ see?” They prompt, more interested in what Narinder is locked onto than the very minor injuries they have.

Narinder doesn’t respond, but acknowledged the Lamb with a flick of his tail. Lambert waits patiently. It is not uncommon for Narinder to be silent for a bit before responding. But this time, it takes a lot longer. After the 100th annoying shuffle from Lambert, Narinder speaks slowly.

“There is… someone dying.” He rumbles from under his hood. It was a bit chilly, so it was understandable. The Lamb’s heart drops to their stomach. “Someone back at the cult?” Lambert winces, already going through funeral plans in their mind.

“No.” He responds in a slightly irritated way, making Lambert feel a tad offended. “You missed a creature. Not a heretic.”

“You mean ‘we’?”

“If you had not distracted me with your useless chatter about ‘pineapples’-“

“Ratau said it tingles your tongue when you eat it! I was just saying how I wants to see if I could grow some and- hey!” Lambert gets cut off of their mini rant at Narinder swiftly moving forward and back into the forest. Lambert makes a huffy pout and hastily makes sure they got every bit of loot from their crusade and from the mini boss. They then hastily run to catch up to Narinder, their hooves almost catching on a branch in the process.

When they finally catch up to Narinder, they find him staring into a wooden and splintering house. Newly destroyed, the indent and blood splatter on a broken wall from a heretic being thrown is still fresh. Narinder’s doing, from the violence of it. Narinder watches as Lambert begins to try and move the rubble as much as possible away. It was easy enough—it wasn’t a very stable house in the first place. When they manage to get enough rubble out of the entryway, Narinder steps forward first, and glances at the Lamb. “Here.” He points to a patch of rubble in the corner of the room. Lambert huffs. “You’re not gonna help me? You’re the one who destroyed the house.”

“You’re the one who distracted me. I would rather let them rot.” Narinder glares. Sheesh, sensitive much? It doesn’t matter, even if Lambert softly kicked him in the ankle for the attitude. Narinder straightens angrily. Ready to snap back. “Lamb-“

The moment Lambert has taken away a few heavy logs and splinters of wood, There is a horrible wheezing, lungs full of blood and throat full of mucus type wheezing. A moth, a teenager by the looks of it, falls from the rubble and falls onto the Lamb, almost catching Lambert off balance. Four shaky hands grab Lambert like a lifeline, still coughing up blood and mucus, getting most of it on their shoulder unintentionally. Lambert knows what to do. Centuries he has practiced and repeated this.

The Lamb carefully picks up the injured moth and holds them bridal style, looking them over while gently reassuring them with kind words that have been rehearsed many, many times.

It was certainly a moth. A female by the look of it, late teens age-wise. A very, *very* fluffy moth, which is odd, moths he used to have didn’t have this much fur. A tiny bow tie at their neck with a capelet that was pointed in the front and got longer at the back, it also was pointed there. There was a symbol on the back of said capelet, but Lambert could look at that later, when the moth wasn’t actively dying.

“How bad is she?” Lambert twists their head to Narinder, rubbing gentle circles into the poor kid’s back to try and get them from fainting. Narinder shifts. “She will die soon.” He responds, stoicism not leaving his tone. Before the Lamb can say anything else, he adds on. “You are too caring.” Something in Narinder’s gaze changes for just a split second, almost like something fond, before steeling just as soon as it happened.

The adrenaline is making them see things, Lambert assumes.

A surge of irritation washes over Lambert. Narinder has been snippy ever since they woke up this morning. Was sleeping in the same cottage as Narinder really that horrible? Apparently it was for him, because Narinder has been cryptic and frustrating all damn day. Lambert already had enough on his plate. Without waiting for Narinder, the Lamb storms out of the house, cradling the moth teen to their chest, counting the beats between each of her breaths. Once they almost reach the portal to go back to the cult grounds; the moth opens her eyes to not stare at Lambert, no, she stares directly at the pissy cat behind the Lamb. The poor moth makes another heaving wheeze which sounds more like a soft sob. She wheezes as the first words trickle out of her mouth. “Please… n-not… not ye-yet… please… ple-lease…�� she whispered to the cat before closing her eyes again to seem to drift off.

Lambert wants to stop. Process. Question. But the determination to keep the kid alive keeps his legs going. Lambert looks back at Narinder with a confused look. Narinder only stops briefly, but does continue to walk after the Lamb. Narinder does not say anything, but seems to be staring at the fainted face of the moth.

Lambert feels strangely uneasy. They cannot pinpoint why.

──────────────────

If yall wanna know what the moth follower looks leik… post is here :D

[ceratatata]

0w0?

whats this??? skiv's actually drawing for once?????

[greysquib]

Hi guys I’m. I made. I made a cult of the lamb OC. Here they are. My little dude. I’ll probably update this someday but. Also HOW DO YOU DRAW ANTLERS LMAO? Shoulda thought of that BEFORE I made a deer OC. Ohhh well. I’ll figure it out.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

the father [solar lunacy] the son [you move to dayshift but aren't paid any more, go figure] and the holy spirit [i see you, sundrop!]

[notthebestatart]

Sketchbook dump

[p0isonthewell]

CULT OF THE LAMB UPDATE CULT OF THE LAMB UPDATE

[rosekiller-chan]

I thought that they were silly and so I drew @bamsara 's Arson and Missy. I rlly liked them and thought that they were silly.

(Close ups and the pose I used under the cut)

[lincolnlogsnfrogs]

arting is not working so have some of my iz art from the last few months :>

[anuphim]

i love women

[luckydinosauur101]

So I drew TwitchChat from stream the other night

I literally hate it.

Love hate relationship

[sophelisticated]

I know nobody follows me yet… but I made… someting for @bamsara, they don’t like being idolized but they are so cool to me they are my INSPIRATION. Shakespeare hangs its head in shame at how good Bam’s writing is

Anyway I made dis, it’s a oc insert in bam’s rehabilitation of death fanfic! It’s not very good, but I awoke in the night and brain exploded in ideas.

Word count: ~1.2k

(SPOILERS FOR THEIR FIC, PLEASE BE WARNED)

-Sleep Like the Dead-

The One Who Waits is patient. It’s in his title. Even so, ever since the entrapment of being in this mortal, lowly body, his… ‘nightmares’ have become more than a mere nuisance. Narinder has awaken with more bile in his throat, more of his godly blood spilled from his eyes. And most importantly—he has grown more irritable. The lamb had noticed that the god of death’s patience for their silly rants have been shut down sooner than usual. Though Lambert has pressed Narinder for information, the vessel is met with a sneering cat showing it’s back to them.

It was a night such as all the others. The former god of death sat in his bed, meditating, but found himself distracted. He did not want to go to sleep, but he felt tired. His ego already shattered from being in a mortal body, he felt himself even more pathetic. A god being scared of some mere ‘nightmares’? It made him cringe at himself. But he knew that even if he slept, he wouldn’t gain anything out of it. His mind cannot escape the traitor. The lamb. That wretched, awful excuse for a vessel.

But the exhaustion tugs at his eyes. And he complies quietly, though irritably. He lays down, and lays there with a grimace. Simply waiting until he falls unconscious.

He lays down at the trunk of the tree.

“Do not wander.” Narinder says firmly to Baal and Aym. They nod and go scurry off. They have been adapting well to the cult. The flock have been teaching Baal and Aym routines, but today? They get to wander. Narinder looks up at the beautiful tree he lays up against. The purple bark complimented its leaves and flowers. This year, it has exploded in color, more than it usual would. White leaves paired with multicolored flowers. The grass is warm underneath him. And strangely enough, it doesn’t decay. And he’s actually happy about that fact.

He looked out into the distance with a small hum of relaxation. He sees Baal stuffing flowers in Aym’s collar, and they go running off into a chase. But not too far. Just as Narinder asked.

“Is it nice?” A soothing voice comes from his left. Narinder doesn’t jump, nor get surprised. Like he somehow knew she was there.

It was a bird. A peacock. Her white plumage glittering in the sunlight, but glowing more on the rainbow feathers on her tail and the primary and secondary rainbow feathers on her wings. The flowing white dress she wore went further than her feet, but she walked with grace. The white dress did not get any grass stains as she walked from behind the tree. She nestled next to Narinder at the base of the purple tree. Her caring, rainbow eyes scanning his form. Whatever the peacock is thinking, the cat cannot place it. Her wings fold at her sides. He answers back in a casual tone. “I enjoy it. I get to have some privacy from the lamb.” He scoffed. The peacock chuckled softly at his words. “It must be frustrating. Even having him plague your dreams. Thankfully, he is not here.” She speaks gently, tilting her beak at him. Narinder opens his mouth to respond, and he feels a lot heavier as he processes her words, and then becomes aware of his surroundings. He narrows his eyes at the peacock, but finds his body too fuzzy and warm to move away.

“This is not my memory. Who’s memory is this? I don’t-“ “Tis no memory. Never was, my dear.” The rainbow stranger cuts him off with a gentle wave of her wing.

“I am Oneiros. I am the representation of dreams, imagination, and creation.” She says calmly. Narinder notices that his body had relaxed, and his mind calmer. Something about her voice. It just made him calm. He stared at her for a long minute. And she simply stared out at the fields.

“Have you come to torture me in my sleep, as the lamb has?” The god of death glowers at Oneiros, but the glare doesn’t have the fierce energy he wants it to. It doesn’t particularly matter though. She just hummed softly at his words. “No, One Who Waits. I believed you needed a fulfilling rest, a rest filled with softness and warmth.” She spoke patiently, plucking a couple of flowers and beginning to make a little banquet. But gods cannot dream. He knew that for certain. This woman spouts lies, manipulating me into getting me think I can trust her, until-

“I do not lie.” She interrupts his thinking. He snarls at the reminder that his thoughts aren’t safe in the dreamworld.

“Yes, gods cannot dream. But in special circumstances, i can bless them with a dream. The circumstances I will not share with you, little cat.” Oneiros booped his nose with a rose. Narinder snarled, swatting the flower away. “Are you mocking me?” He sneered, and Oneiros made a squawk of laughter. “No, dear. I like giving my dreamers nicknames. Little cat will be yours.” She hummed, her eyes upturned with light humor. The god of death sneered again. He bristled, his tail spiking in irritation. “I shall pluck your feathers out, one by one, if you ever call me that again.” He snarled, his tail whipping back and forth with attitude. She chortled in amusement. “I have worse nicknames, my dear. But I will just call you ‘cat’.” Oneiros hummed. He huffed, but didn’t comment any further. His usual malicious tendencies were toned down more in this realm, he felt less argumentative, he noticed. The peacock then handed him a mini banquet of multicolored flowers. Flowers of such bright colors, he assumed they were exotic.

“I will come again when you are at your lowest. For this safe haven will always look different each time you are here.” She cooed. Bowing her head to Narinder. He took the flowers, and they didn’t wilt, even if he wanted it to. The peacock huffed at his attempt. Not upset, but a tad disappointed at his attitude.

He then heard the yelling of voices familiar. He had seen them earlier, but now that he is more aware, he stills at the sight of Baal and Aym playing in the flowers. He is silent for many heartbeats. The pair stare at The One Who Waits, confused.

“Are they here?” He asked gruffly, but there was a tone of longing in his voice, which he cursed at himself for letting slip out. The question didn’t make much sense, but Oneiros understood. The rainbow peacock took notice of Narinders uncertainty. Almost desperation. At this, her eyes softened in pity.

“No, sweetheart.” She said gently, a motherly air. She put a wing on his shoulder, the softness of the feathers slightly against his cheek making him swivel his head to look at the bird.

“Nothing in this realm is real. I’m sorry, dear. Wake up, and be refreshed.” Oneiros commanded, blessed. Brushing her rainbow wings against his forehead, and his insides felt fuzzier. The warmth of the grass becoming unfocused as he felt his body drop.

He slowly sat up, and he checked his face and sheets. No bleeding. And he felt better than he had in weeks, probably even months.

He didn’t find the company unpleasant, Narinder just wasn’t used to it. He felt like he could handle 20 hours of the lambs rambling, and 10 minutes was already straining it. So to say he felt better was an understatement.

He’d be hoping to visit that realm again soon. Maybe see if the rainbow peacock has any insight on what to do when godly power is shared between two people.

[aster-09]

sorry for dont post anything on the last week but I really putting all my effort on this drawing asjdnkajsna

heres a look

[cfog2020]

LOOK 👁👄👁

I haven't even read the fics @bamsara made and just looked at the amazing art they did of zadr

And that was enough to make me watch the show and the vibes are so UNIQUE

Comic in better detail under the cut

This show is older than me and I love it way to much

[angstandhappiness]

Cute

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