#rejoice in the lamb

[bringthekingdom]

[cconfusedkat]

Part 4 of re-designing my old refs! Kallamar,, the squirterrrrrrr 🦑 Kallamar was unexpected for the fourth day tbh I thought i was originally gonna do someone else but it just happened to be him. Not dissapointed though i had much fun writing and drawing her lore 🦑🦑🦑

(Content warning for neglect if reading btw,,)

There's a lot of yapping points. If that wasn't obvious enough,, event organizer came to mind instead of no occupation cuz like. Really what else would Kallamar do ?? She wont have time for being a doctor in this cult NOR would she have time doing anything else !!!! Event organizer it was 🕺 specifically the "events" are mainly just rituals, so sometimes his job intertwines with his siblings. Funny

YAY NOW HCS!!!! 🫶🫶🫶 idk i really like to give him a lot of lore..... it just feels more fitting than the other three.... from one yapper to another

AND OFC A BLANK! I know the text is definitely overwhelming 😭

@/bloos-bloo has made fanart for hir before!! Twice i believe :>c if you wanted to go check that out on her blog !!!!

[0zymand1as]

I can post lamb and cat things now that only two (2) people from school know me on here

[the-chibi-devil]

I've been hanging around in the Cult of the Lamb fandom and I'm here to make everything worse. I present to you the following fic. It's restricted to registered AO3 accounts due to AI scraping.

Title: God is Dead Summary: Hear this, oh faithful, hear this tenet of our faith. This is the tragic tale of the One Who Waits. Link

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Rejoicing in Heaven

1 And after these things I heard the loud voice of a great multitude in heaven, saying, "Hallelujah! The salvation and the glory and the honor and the power belong to the Lord our God. 2 For true and righteous are His judgments; for He has judged the great whore, who corrupted the earth with her fornication, and He has avenged the blood of His servants at her hand." 3 And they said a second time, "Hallelujah! And her smoke shall ascend upward into the ages of eternity." 4 And the twenty-four elders and the four living creatures fell down and worshiped God, Who sits on the throne, saying, "Amen. Hallelujah!" 5 And a voice came forth from the throne, saying, "Praise our God, all His servants, and all who fear Him, both small and great."

6 And I heard a voice like that of a great multitude, and like the sound of many waters, and the sound of mighty thunderings, saying, "Hallelujah! For the Lord God Almighty has reigned.

7 Let us be glad and shout with joy; and let us give glory to Him; for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and His wife has made herself ready." 8 And it was granted to her that she should be clothed in fine linen, pure and bright; for the fine linen is the righteousness of the saints.

9 And he said to me, "Write: Blessed are those who are called to the marriage supper of the Lamb." And he said to me, "These are the true words of God." 10 And I fell at his feet to worship him. Then he said to me, "See that you do not do this! I am a fellow servant of yours, and of your brethren, who have the testimony of Jesus. Worship God. For the testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy."

11 And I saw heaven open; and behold, a white horse; and He Who sat on it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness He does judge and make war. 12 And His eyes were like a flame of fire, and on His head were many crowns; and He had a name written that no one knows except Him. 13 And He was clothed with a garment dipped in blood; and His name is The Word of God. 14 And the armies in heaven were following Him on white horses; and they were clothed in fine linen, white and pure. 15 And out of His mouth goes a sharp sword, that with it He might smite the nations; and He shall shepherd them with an iron rod; and He treads the winepress of the fury and the wrath of the Almighty God. 16 And on His garment and on His thigh He has a name written: King of kings and Lord of lords.

17 Then I saw an angel standing in the sun; and he cried out with a loud voice, saying to all the birds that fly in the midst of heaven, "Come and gather yourselves together to the supper of the great God 18 So that you may eat the flesh of kings, and the flesh of chief captains, and the flesh of mighty men, and the flesh of horses, and of those who sit on them, and the flesh of all, free and bond, and small and great."

19 And I saw the beast and the kings of the earth and their armies, gathered together to make war with Him Who sits on the horse, and with His army.

20 And the beast was taken, and with him the false prophet who worked miracles in his presence, by which he had deceived those who received the mark of the beast and those who worshiped his image. Those two were cast alive into the lake of fire, which burns with brimstone; 21 And the rest were killed by the sword of Him Who sits on the horse, even the sword that goes out of His mouth; and all the birds were filled with their flesh. — Revelation 19 | A Faithful Version (AFV) A Faithful Version Bible Copyright © 2007, 2009, 2010, 2011 York Publishing Company. All rights reserved. Cross References: Exodus 15:3; Deuteronomy 10:17; Deuteronomy 32:43; 1 Samuel 17:44; Psalm 2:9; Psalm 22:23; Psalm 62:11; Psalm 93:1; Psalm 104:35; Psalm 106:48; Proverbs 30:4; Proverbs 31:22; Isaiah 30:33; Isaiah 63:2-3; Ezekiel 39:17; Daniel 2:46; Matthew 1:20; Matthew 21:5; Matthew 22:2; John 1:1; Revelation 11:7; Revelation 13:1; Revelation 16:14; Revelation 19:11; Revelation 19:15; Revelation 19:17; Revelation 19:19

[pool-floatie]

Having some COTL brainrot atm and I saw this- you already k n o w

Also of C o u r s e I simp for Narinder, hes a giant evil Catboi with unspeakable power!! Who are you if you d o n t ??

Seeing this gem on the CotL TikTok made me wanna draw bishop Narinder and tiny lamb.

[lemonynuggets]

I’m a guy that has so many personas

[graceandpeacejoanne]

Revelation 19: Enslaved to God

Imagine the cascade of emotions John must have been experiencing in this gripping vision of judgment, destruction, grief, shock, and heavenly command to rejoice. Immediately, the inhabitants of heaven responded with shouts of acclamation. #Revelation19

Imagine the cascade of emotions John must have been experiencing in this gripping vision of judgment, destruction, grief, shock, and the heavenly command to rejoice. Immediately, the inhabitants of heaven responded with shouts of acclamation. After these things I heard a sound like a great throng, multitudes of people in heaven, saying, “Alleluia, the salvation and the glory and the power of…

[mv1simp]

The Take ♥️

Trainer! Max Verstappen x Midsize!Reader

I wanna put you in seven positions for seventy minutes, you'll get it babe (take you down, I really wanna take you down)

Everyone knows Max Verstappen hates having to workout out constantly. If it wasn't for his physically demanding career as a F1 driver, his choice of a workout would involve a weekly padel game with his mates and FIFA on his PS5. His trainer tries something different and gets Max to be the instructor for once - to you, a sweet and naive girl whose jerk boyfriend told her to lose weight. Max couldn't resist using a hands on method to help you get your confidence back.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dark max girlies rejoice we’re back in action, naive! Chubby! reader, dubcon, explicit cheating but reader’s boyfriend is an absolute jerk hehe, size kink, WC 2.7k

Rupert, Redbull's physical trainer that had been delegated to none other than the legendary champion driver Max Verstappen, was at his wit’s end with his client. With his 4 world championships, Max was very familiar with the intense workout routine an F1 driver needed to maintain. It was just, well, he was just sick of the same repetitive timetable over and over again. And his physical trainer could see the results reflecting in Max’s pre season testing, seeing how Max’s numbers were admittedly very good, they were not as high as they’d been in the past.

Everything Rupert had tried to brainstorm to inspire Max had fallen short. From different workout locations (Monaco is only so big, after all), to the most unique exercise techniques he had googled (Brazilian cold water immersive Pilates did not resonate with Max) - everything had come up short. At his wit’s end, Rupert decided to throw a last ditch resort at Max - training you.

You’re a pretty, pure hearted twenty something marketing executive in Monaco, with a narcissistic boyfriend who thinks he’s a top shot with the new money he’s raking in from making a new app. Such a top shot that he feels entitled to hire a personal trainer for his sweet girlfriend, demanding you look like a perfect Insta model. That’s what every man in Monaco wants! he says patronisingly to you, gaslighting you into attending the training. That’s why he reached out to Rupert, a very famous trainer - who consequently dumps you onto Max, stating that he needed a two week holiday from the Dutchman and he could take over his new client. You’ll survive, it’s the off season, he says to Max with a deadpan expression as he waves goodbye.

Max is pissed, of course. What the fuck was Rupert thinking, making a four time world champion F1 driver, multimillionaire, and just general degenerate gamer train some random goldigger chick? He’s rolling his eyes as he walks into his usual gym, where Rupert had told you to turn up. He’s ready to tell you to fuck off, all Mad Max and all, because no way was he wasting his time-

And then he lays eyes on you, and his heartbeat stutters. In front of him, oblivious to the predatory stares of men around her, is the cutest little thing he’s ever seen. You’re dressed in a matching workout set, tugging at the edge of your tight shorts a little self consciously, looking around with innocent wide doe eyes. Fucking hell, Rupert had most certainly not mentioned his new client had the body of a pornstar, all luscious tits and ass and chubby cheeks, and a face that looked like an angel. Max couldn’t wait to sink his big, bad teeth into the sweet looking lamb who stumbled right into his toned arms.

Smirking devilishly, he introduces himself as your new trainer. You gasp, eyes widening cutely, feeling butterflies swirl in your tummy at the tall, handsome and muscular blonde in front of you. Shall we get started? he murmurs, a gorgeous smile on his face and pretty blue eyes intently locked on you. I have to say, I’m surprised you signed up for such an intensive course, he says in an incredibly attractive, deep Dutch accent. You look like you’re in…great shape, if you don’t mind me saying, he adds, observant gaze flicking down to take in your curves. You flush, not minding the attention at all from such a hot trainer!

That’s so sweet of you to say! You say, blushing cutely and looking down, completely missing how Max’s heated gaze glances down your tight crop top, his taller height perfect to get an eyeful of your tempting cleavage. You tell him that actually, it wasn’t your idea, but your boyfriends’s…he thinks I’m too fat, you say with a pout.

What, Max says with a scowl that he quickly smooths when you peer up anxiously at the sudden spike in his mood. Honey was definitely a better way to win over something as sweet and innocent looking as you than poison. Well, ignore whatever your boyfriend wants. You’re here only for your own fitness and confidence, okay?

You beam up at him, nodding enthusiastically. God, Max couldn’t wait to have you for himself. Your boyfriend sounded like an absolute pathetic loser, telling someone as perfect and beautiful as you to change her body. Doesn’t matter, because it made it all the easier for Max to win you over. And he’d make sure to have his fun while doing it.

He’d started all your regular sessions with him with a good pre workout stretch, of course. Taking you into a side room to shield you from the hungry eyes of the other male gym goers, because only Max deserved to see your pretty body bent over for him. It didn’t stop others from walking past the glass door multiple times to ogle you, much to Max’s annoyance. But you remained clueless, twisting yourself in whatever position Max ordered you too like a good student.

And Max was such a nice instructor. He showered you with praise over the tiniest thing, making you blush up a storm, enjoying his reassuring and comforting voice. He was so different to your mean boyfriend! Max’s large hands settled on your soft body, helping position you perfectly, as he huskily whispered in your ear for you to bend forward, all the way like that, good girl. Can you touch your toes for me?

And when you can’t quite get there, he places a strong hand across your lower back to give you that extra push. His hand sometimes drifts lower, to your plump ass, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he instructs you. You gasp, and when he pretends to be none the wiser and ask you what’s wrong, schatje? in such a gentle tone, calling you darling in Dutch, you shyly stammer that you’re kinda sensitive down there…your boyfriend had said he wasn’t going to touch you until you lost weight!

Max’s brain temporarily short circuits at this information. Your idiotic boyfriend wasn’t fucking you every chance that he got? And judging by the way you’re shyly looking away and rubbing your thighs together, it had been a very long time since you’d been properly handled by anyone. Max would bet his multi story yacht that even when you had been sleeping with your boyfriend, he wasn’t making you cum. Leaving you so sexually frustrated that Max just feeling up your lush ass was getting you all hot and bothered. How cute, the Dutchman thinks, unable to hide the devious grin on his face at the new information.

He guided you back into position, his strong hips digging into yours from the back. The full wall mirror in front of you given Max a delicious view of your tits practically spilling out of your top as you lean forward. Good thing your ass is so fat he can easily hide his impressive semi erection behind it, he thinks cheekily. He can’t resist leaning forward and grinding himself against you, just for a second, leaving you gasping and looking behind you with a confused expression - only to find Max innocently looking at you. Something wrong, schatje? he says so sweetly that you feel embarrassed for even wondering what he was doing behind you.

He’ll have to do something about all the hungry states from the other gym goers though - he can’t have them even thinking about something which belongs to him. He glares at anyone who dares look at you through the glass doors, but he needs a more permanent solution.

So for the next session he invites you to his house, where he has a mini gym on his penthouse balcony. You’re unsure at first, but after Max tells you it’s just so hard for him to focus on your sessions at the gym, with the way everyone is always asking him for an autograph or a selfie…you say yes immediately, because you’d never want to make it harder for him when he’d been such a caring trainer! Soon enough he has you all to himself in his outdoor gym, wearing another one of your cute workout sets. Except he wanted to see more of your pretty body, so the next day he hands you a PR package - asking if you wanted to try on the gift from one of his sponsors. You beam at his thoughtful gesture, quickly getting changed into the slutty outfit he’s hand selected.

Max smirks wickedly as he helps stretch you out again, this time with your thighs bent up almost to your flushed face. The blue booty shorts are so tiny they’re practically underwear, slipping into your tanned asscheeks and giving you a cameltoe, much to your embarrassment. You squirm as Max’s keen gaze goes right to your pussy brushing up against his abs - separated only by a thin layer of spandex. Because of course, Max worked out shirtless at home - it’s far too warm! Getting better but still not flexible enough, sweetheart Max says with a disapproving tone that has you scrambling for his approval. Here, let me help you.

He pushes down on your thighs with his huge hands. Your tits almost spill out of the tiny cropped singlet he has you in when he buries his face into them. M-Max! you stammer, asking what he was doing, was it really needed, but he just reassures you that it absolutely was. After all, you didn’t want to pull a muscle and stop being able to exercise for two weeks, right? His deep voice is muffled against your plush tits as he pressed in deeper, making you squirm some more when his lips brush against your hard nipples.

He helps you cool down afterwards too, like the dedicated coach he is. You’re so grateful for all the deep muscle relaxation techniques he knows, moaning blissfully as you lay sprawled underneath him as he massages your sore body. He started with your legs and arms, and then your tense abs, and then one strong palm squeezing your lush tits and the other cupping your pussy through your sports set. You were always embarrassingly wet after your workouts, with all the close proximity to Max, and prayed he didn’t notice how soaked your shorts had become as he rubbed his palm encouragingly against your cunny. You couldn’t stop the contended moans as you arched into his skilled hands, finding the tension draining from your muscles completely.

Soon you’re over at Max’s everyday, working out longer and longer. To your delight, Max asks if you’d mind helping him with his workout! You’re so eager to return the favour after he’s been so considerate, taking time out of his busy schedule just to train you. All you had to do was sit on his back as he did push ups-

You insist that there was no way he could do that, you were way too heavy, what if he hurt himself? All it takes is one cocky smirk from him to convince you, and you climb onto his back, gasping in amazement as his muscular back flexes when he easily starts during push ups. You’re completely distracted by how attractive he looks, so much more broader and stronger than your own boyfriend who couldn’t even lift you up! You feel a bit guilty thinking that but don’t get time to think about it - because next you’re helping Max with his hip thrusts. You squeal as his impressive legs thrust you into the air with a bounce, making your sensitive pussy land on his rock hard cock each time. You stabilise yourself with hands on his abs, running over the taut, sweaty muscle, so enamoured with the sight that you don’t notice Max’s blue gaze fixed on your jiggling tits with each bounce. Mmmh-Ah! H-how many more do you have to do, Max? you say breathlessly, feeling yourself start to get more and more turned on with each thrust of his hips. You felt so dirty, practically dripping through your booty shorts onto his lower abs, feeling all horny while he was just trying to work out!

Just a few more, he says vaguely, grasping onto your thick asscheeks to steady you as he continues meanly grinding his angry, hard cock into your soft cunny. You end up cumming through your shorts, desperately biting down on your lips to keep silent but failing to suppress your slutty moans. You were so cute and naive that you had no clue Max was just dry jumping you to orgasm. Training your perfect body to respond to his, just how he wanted it.

He left you in your post orgasmic bliss on his outdoor couch to cool down as he ventured inside. He’d been planning on jerking off his raging erection in the shower, not wanting to scare you off with his impressive load. But when he caught sight of the protein powder on his kitchen counter top, he couldn’t resist. All it took was a couple pumps and the image of you riding him with your bouncing tits for him to cum, filling a good half of the glass he tops off with a protein smoothie. When he hands you his homemade drink, you thank him with wide doe eyes. You’re such a thoughtful trainer, Max! you say sincerely, eagerly drinking his gift. Mmmh, it tastes amazing, what ingredients did you use? He winks and tells you it’s a top secret world class athlete recipe.

Max is completely addicted to feeding you his thick load and has you equally addicted, asking shyly if he’d make you another one of his smoothies after each session. He figured he has you enamoured enough with him to take things to the next level when you start asking for seconds. The thing is, schatje, since I eat so much protein and supplements, my sperm is super high in nutrients…but it’s not safe for you to take so much protein directly as a girl! So that’s why I had to put it in your drink, okay? You nod with wide eyes, your jaw dropped open in shock as Max unties his shorts to show you his huge swollen cock that’s been feeding you for days. You dazedly ask if maybe you should be getting “fed” from your boyfriend instead, you weren’t sure if he’d be mad if he found out-

Max cuts off your worries immediately, promising you that only his cum would be able to provide you with what you needed. In fact, you shouldn't be going anywhere near your boyfriend's weak release. You nod quickly, wanting to show Max what a good student you were, completely willing to obey him. And when he asks if you'd help him out in making your smoothie today, since his hand was kinda tired after so many days, you eagerly say yes! Soon you're snuggled up by his side, letting him guide both your hands up and down his cock. You're in awe of how big and hot his shaft looks, you'd never seen one that size. You swallow back drool in your mouth, already craving your daily treat, and when Max slyly suggests that you could just drink directly from the source? you're on him in seconds. Dutifully sucking and jerking him off, making him hiss and grab your hair as he thrusts in deep and cums with a deep moan. He makes you stick out your tongue afterwards to make sure you didn't waste even a drop.

Good girl. Let's do your cool down massage in the shower today, hmm? It's so fucking hot out. Max's praise fills you with heady warmth and you giddily agree, letting him guide you into his luxurious shower to cool down, stripping out of your skimpy workout set.

Too bad you ended up doing a lot more cardio than cooling down behind the steamed glass. Max grins devilishly as you both watch his cock go in and out of your creamy pussy together, every thrust making you scream his name and hold onto him desperately. After all, fucking up against the bathroom wall was a much more effective workout, right?

[fanaroff]

Cotl: Choiceless

Now with a Comic!

The Lamb could feel their heart beating wildly in their chest. In the silence of the Inbetween, it was loud and almost thundering in their ears. They had a choice. A very important, possibly last choice.

The Red Crown sat cradled in their hands, held close to their chest. It was almost vibrating. With excitement, anxiety, an itch to fight? Lamb didn’t know what, but it was active and waiting.

They felt a heavy frown pull at their face. Arriving in the Inbetween, they’d felt a sense of a happy anticipation. Rejoice for The One Who Waits is to be released from his chains! But now… there was a catch.

They must sacrifice themself for the breaking of their God’s chains. They must return the Red Crown to its original owner.

“Well?” The One Who Waits, Narinder’s, deep voice rumbled talk above the Lamb, sounding almost… impatient. Lamb would be too if they knew their release was moments away.

In the end, Lamb knew what they would choose. It was a choice they would make many times over for their God.

Willing their fearful trembling away (they would be in a better place soon, they must keep faith), Lamb took a deep breath and raised their head to meet the eyes of The One Who Waits. They opened their mouth—

“I su-“

—Their mouth was suddenly, brutally shut with a click as the Red Crown whisked from their hands and slammed atop their own head, nestled between their horns.

No. No, no, nonono that want right! What was it doing!?

That wasn’t their choice!

Terrified, the Lamb looked up at their God only to watch as his mouth turned down into a deep frown then raised in a snarl as his pupils shrunk and absolute anger settled on his face. And hatred.

“Betrayal.”

No.

The Red Crown made the choice and it wasn’t The One Who Waits.

~~~

Small Oneshot for the ficlet I’m planning for my little blorbos.

[cuppajj]

Among the many unsettling cases birthed from the rise of the five new Beasts, none have been as neither concerning nor mysterious as the Lambs of Penance. Spawned from the remains of the Vanilla Kingdom, pilgrims and cookies who were once swayed by the compassion of Pure Vanilla became devoted to his ultimate truth as Penance: that the world is plagued by a darkness that can be cleansed only by him.

With robes of white and gold, bright smiles, and bandages that connect them with the Healer, the Lambs spend their days spreading the message of purity and penance to the rest of earthbread. While they seek for kindred spirits to bring into the fold, they plant vanilla orchids in different places. They are proficient and discreet with their methods: no matter how tight the kingdom’s security is, a lamb can slip in and plant an orchid, thus extending the Beast’s vision and power to where it grows. There is nowhere a Lamb goes where Saint Vanilla will not reach.

The most devoted of the beast’s fanatics is his bishop, Cream Wafer Cookie. As his right hand, he is in charge of all of the cult’s operations, gleefully aiding in fulfilling his lord’s wishes. Saint Vanilla himself has little involvement in the operations beyond certain rituals and appearances, as the bishop and his followers do everything for him in his stead. It gives the beast time to walk the world by himself, dedicating time to the affairs of the other neobeasts among other personal goals.

However, the one true goal for everyone is for Saint Vanilla to rid the world of darkness and sin, to lift the souls of everyone and give them the salvation that will usher in enlightenment and bliss. It may mean the permanent departure from everything they know, the Lambs are aware, but there is nothing they want more. They are ready to follow their god to the new reign of Penance, or die trying; and if that is so, their bodies will be used to grow the very orchids they plant. It’s only worthy of them to serve the beast even in death.

This cult may seem harmless, especially with their prioritization of pacifism, peace, and love; but make no mistake. When the Saint calls, the Lambs deliver; whether it be to plant a flower or to make a cookie disappear, a receiver of the light’s lethal embrace. After all, Penance is gospel, and all will rejoice under its wings…

[bringthekingdom]

[oaken-moss-and-raven-bones]

“Teach the children…. Teach them the taste of sassafras and wintergreen. The lives of the blue sailors, mallow, sunbursts, the moccasin flowers. And the frisky ones—inkberry, lamb’s-quarters, blueberries. And the aromatic ones—rosemary, oregano. Give them peppermint to put in their pockets as they go to school. Give them the fields and the woods and the possibility of the world salvaged from the lords of profit. Stand them in the stream, head them upstream, rejoice as they learn to love this green space they live in, its sticks and leaves and then the silent, beautiful blossoms. Attention is the beginning of devotion.”

- Upstream, Mary Oliver

[zarnzarn]

lamb who kills the one who waits when the time comes to decide, furious and betrayed at being asked to lay down their life after everything they'd done, after-

they kill him, and don't stop to see what happens to the body, carried away by their celebrating followers. They rejoice the whole day, of a final victory against evil, riling each other up to the heights of joy and mania until late in the night.

And then Lamb goes to bed and blows out the lamp and the their decision finally sinks in.

what have they done.

they wake the next day trembling from forgotten nightmares, overheating as they make their way through the day's chores, blank-faced and numb. the call to sermon is waved off in face of a headache, as they try not to think about how much of what they preach no longer is relevant.

the week passes in a haze- they unthinkingly leave offerings in the wooden chest until they rot in the summer noon; call out the rituals in Narinder's language and pretend the power isn't fainter than usual, go on a crusade to get their mind off things- except the last is the worst of it all, because the crown's eye is pale pink, pupil fat with power, instead of the crimson cat-eye that Lamb is used to, and there's no getting away from the fact on how silent it is when no one is watching behind it.

how silent it is because no one is there.

yet somehow worse still is-

"hope you feel better soon, leader!" a younger follower says, tucking a camelia into their wool. they know they've been distant lately, avoiding worries left right and centre. "praise the one! he'll make everything alright."

it's like a hammer to the chest, leaving them breathless and stunned, to realise- they never commissioned a statue of Narinder, after all these years. so stubborn in only leaving the crimson eye scratched around the cult grounds as his symbol until he found an artist worthy of Lamb sharing the image of the god of death, that-

no one else except the lamb knew what narinder looked like. they had no idea whose defeat they'd celebrated.

no one but Lamb remembers their god.

..

it gets harder after that.

Lamb isn't sure how many people have left the cult by the time the Mystic Seller's demand comes through, to save what's left of the Bishops from endless purgatory, before their violent shadows disrupted the fabric of the four realms.

They stare, speechless and disbelieving, at the outrageous ask, before it suddenly sinks in that-

The bishops.

The bishops.

They run through the lands once more with eagerness, sword slashing harder each time, ruthless and relentless in their kills. They reconquer Leshy and Heket brutally, curtly setting out the terms when they are diminished back to mortal and forced to stay in the cult. They agree, and agree to keeping their peace as well when Kallamar and Shamura join them, surrounded by a cult that's flourishing once more, waiting eagerly for a familiar stranger. Lamb tells stories around the fire about The One Who Waits, watches the smiles on their followers' faces reappear, the ones who had fled their anger and depression slowly making their way back to the flock, and the cult grows back to its full potential once more.

And then Lamb runs up the stairs when it's all ready and beautiful and welcoming, beams at the Seller as they wait for their instructions.

The Seller frowns. "Yes?"

Lamb tilts their head, rusted bell on their neck tinkling. It had broken the day after Narinder's defeat, the collar finally fluttering to the ground in tatters like a cloth of eighty years should; but Lamb had repaired and maintained and polished it until it wrapped proud around their neck once again. Their heart is beating in their chest, excitement running through their veins. They'd forgotten how it felt to be on the cusp of going to meet the One Who Waits.

"The last bishop still remains," They laugh, joy spreading through them. "I have to go get him too, yes? For the good of the universe and all."

The Mystic Seller... is silent.

"Narinder was not a Bishop," It says finally. Lamb's smile drops. "The Three-Eyed Cat had completed his ascension when he mastered the resurrection ritual. He was a God."

Lamb's heart drops to their stomach, stumbling like they've taken a hit. "What? So what? Can't I bring him back?"

The Mystic Seller tilts their head. "No."

"What do you mean no?" Lamb's nostrils flare, red crown sparking as they take a step closer. "I brought all those others back, why can't I-"

"They were the pillars of the very order of the world-"

"They were fucking MONSTERS!" Lamb shouts. "And what, death isn't?"

"It is," The Seller says, unaffected by the screaming. "But you are the Bishop of Death now. The cycle has begun again."

Lamb feels like they've taken an arrow to the chest. They stumble forward, and then to their knees. "No," they whimper. "There has- has to be some way to bring him back."

The Mystic Seller stares at them. "You were the one to kill him," They point out, and Lamb feels bile rise in their mouth as their breathing gets faster. "Why would you want him back? A thriving cult, an usurped crown, his spells in your hand-"

"Shut up," Lamb hisses.

"-you have all the power you could ever want, little sheep. Your revenge against the murder of your people."

"He wasn't the one to do it!" They shout up at the Seller, despite the hypocrisy- it had been part of their thoughts when they'd raised the axe again and again and again; the resentment of if it wasn't for you-

"No, no, no, no, no," They whimper, holding onto their biceps and shaking. "Narinder."

It is the first time they have said his name in five years. That realization is what makes the tears finally fall.

Their throat is hoarse when they finish, eyes swollen and blood pooled around them, skin already healing back to perfection where they had clawed through. The Mystic Seller stares at them and sways, silent.

"No," The Lamb finally says, and gets up, determined. Walks past the Seller, to the door behind, leading to the Gateway.

They wonder how they never realized. Or maybe they did, and were just lying to themselves that they didn't.

Lamb reaches the crater, with the rusted chains and wooden crucifixes rising out from the fog around it and comes to a halt.

Narinder is exactly where they left him.

Bones only now. Blackened by all the rituals he performed, he'd told them once; perfectly placed, like he had just fallen.

Lamb still has the ointment they made with their first cult sitting in the back of their cupboard, back when they were naive enough to think it would only take months. Ointment spelled to help grow back the fur on his rotting arms, worn to nothing by a thousand years of pulling at the chains and them tightening on him every time he moved in response.

The skull could be anyone's, now.

Two ribs are broken, where Lamb's axe went through. Straight to the heart.

Lamb exhales and shakily kneels to the ground, lowering himself to Narinder's side, careful to not dislodge a single bone out of place, and molds their body around the skeleton in a perverse mockery of a lover's embrace. Violently, abruptly, they want that, so much it burns- Narinder's arms holding the close one last time. It feels unbearable, to have- to have him lowered to meet Lamb at his level, to have him attainable instead of a towering, unreachable, terrible eldritch horror, and for him to be dead.

Oh, Lamb thinks, shaking as tears form in their eyes. Oh, I loved you. I love you.

"Darling," They choke out, tracing one cheekbone. "My baby. My one. My death. Come back, will you?"

Narinder opens his eyes and shoots them an unimpressed look. Lamb sobs, shoulders heaving, gasping as claws embed themselves in their throat- whole, complete, strong, paw soft as a cloud, faint markings on the fur Lamb never knew he had now drenched with blood.

They laugh, smiling through the tears as they push forward into the claws, flesh ripping and tearing as they push their mouth closer to Narinder's.

"I am sorry," They whisper. Narinder growls. "i love you."

"Traitor-"

"Fuck the crown," Lamb breathes back, moving to straddle Narinder to interrupt him, keeping the weight on their own knees to not damage his healing ribs. His claws are still in their throat, tangled in their stitches. "Fuck the power. Fuck the cult. Fuck religion. I only ever wanted you."

Narinder stills, looking up at them with sharp eyes. Lamb laughs around his beloved's fingers. "I only ever want you. What is life without you, Antim?"

Narinder studies them. Lamb waits, bloodied and grinning, patiently waiting, smitten to have those beautiful trifecta eyes upon them once more.

"I promised you," They whisper. "I promised to break you out of here. Let me, my one. My only one, who has waited so long."

Narinder takes a breath, tilting his chin down and then up. His claws twitch in Lamb's vocal chords, drawing them down closer to him.

Lamb whoops in joy and reaches up to toss the crown to the side, fitting their hooves to the last chain wrapped around Narinder's neck, binding him still to the Gateway, and splinters it into a thousand pieces, never to hold anyone ever again.

"Come," The Lamb whispers finally, moving back and gathering their lover up in their arms, still pressing their mouths together. "Let me take you home, Narinder. Mere jaan. Meri mrityu. My one."

Narinder sighs and buries his face in the crook of Lamb's neck as they start to walk away. "Turn back around, idiot. We cannot leave without the damned crown. And I am picking out the wedding decorations."

"Of course, my love," Lamb coos, and leans in again to kiss their greatest mistake.

[littleredspidermod]

Kairos aka patchwork

The Patchwork Lamb: A Dark Origin

Story

Deep within the depths of purgatory, The One Who Waits brooded over his entrapment, endlessly scheming a way to escape the chains binding him. The ancient bishops, each commanding their own domains, had orchestrated their imprisonment, ensuring no mortal could easily challenge their dominion. But the eldritch god, though bound, was not without cunning.

Realizing the futility of relying on mortals born of natural flesh and will, The One Who Waits resolved to create a servant of his own—a being born of defiance, imbued with divine purpose, and unshakable in loyalty. Yet, crafting life from nothing was beyond even his considerable power in this weakened state. Thus, he devised a grim plan: to piece together an avatar of vengeance using remnants of those who had suffered under the rule of the bishops.

The Gathering of Pieces

The One Who Waits reached out through the veil, his whispers echoing across the lands. Lambs, pure of heart and destined for sacrifice, often bore the brunt of the bishops' tyranny. Many met their ends on blood-soaked altars, their remains discarded as mere waste. The One Who Waits called forth scavengers and acolytes who still worshipped in secret, instructing them to gather the scattered remains.

* The Head: From a lamb sacrificed to Leshy, the Bishop of Chaos, came the skull. Its eyes had once burned with rebellion, and even in death, its jaw seemed to clench with resolve.

* The Heart: Torn from a lamb slain by Heket, the Bishop of Plague, the heart pulsed faintly even in death, resisting decay. It belonged to one who had loved their kin so deeply that their soul refused to rest.

* The Limbs: Each limb came from lambs who had tried to flee, hunted down by Kallamar's aquatic abominations. Though taken in despair, their legs carried the swiftness of survivors and the strength of those who refused to surrender.

* The Wool: From Shamura's dominion of knowledge and madness, the wool was collected from the remnants of a lamb who had sought forbidden truths. It shimmered faintly, hinting at an intellect that had peered beyond the veil.

The Ritual of Binding

Once the pieces were gathered, The One Who Waits performed a forbidden ritual within purgatory. With his divine blood, he stitched the pieces together, imbuing the construct with an unholy vitality. He whispered words of power, weaving a fragment of their own essence into the lamb, ensuring absolute devotion.

When the ritual was complete, the Patchwork Lamb opened its eyes, its gaze alight with both the innocence of creation and the malice of vengeance. This lamb was unlike any other—an amalgamation of broken destinies, bound together by the singular purpose of overthrowing the bishops.

A New Herald

Karios existence was an affront to the natural order, a defiance of life and death itself. The bishops, upon sensing its creation, were horrified. It was not merely a mortal; it was a weapon, a living mockery of their dominion and their faith.

The One Who Waits bestowed upon the Lamb a crown of dark power, a symbol of their authority and connection. With it, the Lamb could raise followers, command the dead, and spread their cult across the land. Their patchwork body, though a reminder of their grim origin, became a symbol of resilience and determination to their flock—a testament to the strength found in unity, even when born of broken pieces.

Legacy

Karios journey was one of reclamation. Each bishop it overthrew felt the weight of their sins manifest in this unnatural creature. With every battle won, the Lamb grew stronger, its body adapting and evolving, as if the spirits of the lambs it was made from rejoiced in their vengeance.

And in the end, when the chains of The One Who Waits were finally broken, the Lamb stood as both savior and monster—a being forged not of destiny, but of desperation, vengeance, and divine wrath.

Karios, though constructed from fragments, became whole in purpose: to dismantle the old order and usher in a new age of devotion.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Teach the children. We don’t matter so much, but the children do. Show them daisies and the pale hepatica. Teach them the taste of sassafras and wintergreen. The lives of the blue sailors, mallow, sunbursts, the moccasin flowers. And the frisky ones—inkberry, lamb’s-quarters, blueberries. And the aromatic ones— rosemary, oregano. Give them peppermint to put in their pockets as they go to school. Give them the fields and the woods and the possibility of the world salvaged from the lords of profit. Stand them in the stream, head them upstream, rejoice as they learn to love this green space they live in, its sticks and leaves and then the silent, beautiful blossoms.

Mary Oliver, Upstream