The New Chapter For Cult Of The Lamb: Redemption Is Out Now Guys On Ao3!

Cult of the Lamb: Redemption - Chapter #3 Preview

(Thoughts, opinions, & critiques are welcomed! Be nice!)

Patience - Lamb

Words hurt.

The Lamb knew this. They've seen the way words cut.

The way they stun people, leave them speechless, and then send the world crashing down on them in one swift, and lethal blow.

But they've never felt it themselves until now.

They never wanted things to turn out like this. They never asked for this... They just wanted to live. To be happy. To be free.

But now?

They have the weight of everything they've built on their shoulders. They want to keep their cult safe. Their followers, and friends- dare they say, family.

They want to keep them happy, and well.

So when The One Who- Narinder... When he demanded they...

After everything they've been through, with the scar on their neck proof of their first execution, he demanded that they go through it again? And Lamb so foolishly...

Perhaps they were naive from the start to have trusted him. To have thought that in comparison to the other gods of the land that had ordered the genocide of his kind... He was... Better.

Naive to think that Narinder was different. A good god, locked away by the evil ones, and that they were some kind of shining lamb knight, meant to free him, and restore peace... It was such a childish idea.

Narinder had been no better than the Bishops. Just desperate for power, no matter how much blood was spilled to get it.

They had thought that maybe in the end, if they had spared him, he would...

They feel so stupid.

Standing outside of Narinder's shelter, back against the wall, and hand over their slammed-shut eyes, trying to stop the tears.

The former god of death would never change. He is still just so angry.

~~~

"Be patient, Lamb. He's spent so long festering in his rage, and it is going to take a long time for him to learn how to live a life without it." Ratau pat their shoulder after a long game of knucklebones that they ultimately lost.

They have spent more than half of it complaining about the feline ex-god and the hell he had given them over simply eating.

"I'm trying, but it's me! He hates me! He's never going to understand why I did what I did or that I... That I actually do care about..." Him.

That they care about him.

He had been their savior. Giving them a second chance, and a third, and fourth, and fifth. Every time they died during a crusade, he was there. To greet them, and bring them back.

Sometimes they would talk. Narinder would listen to them, give advice, laugh at their jokes...

They thought he cared... They had certainly cared. They cared so, so much.

The One Who Waits was one of the only beings who truly understood what they were going through. He had been kind to them...

~~~

It was all a facade though. They see that now. Or, hell, perhaps they had just been delusional. Perhaps it was always just a one-sided illusion, them thinking the world of someone who truly hadn't cared at all.

Perhaps they shouldn't have spared him.

Saved them both the agony they're in now...

~~~

This chapter is definitely a longer one guys, so I hope you enjoy this preview! Expect angst, mixed emotions, and a heart-wrenching confession. The full chapter will be posted tomorrow on Ao3 at noon and here on Tumblr at 8:30ish pm. Hope to see you then folks.

Sooo, I know I haven't posted in a while, but I've been pretty busy with life and writing for other fic's that I'm working on, but worry not! The next chapter of Cult of the Lamb: Redemption will be out eventually, I have not abandoned it. I've just been sidetracked. Expect the chapter sometime this weekend hopefully!

So, I've posted the first chapter of Wingmen, a Maxley fanfic. I have no idea when the next chapter will be done, but I'm working on it now, so when I have a date, I'll let y'all know. Feedback, comments, and questions are welcome.

The 12 Days of Twisted Wonderland!

Twisted Wonderland Writings Masterpost

Prompt: While talking with your fellow freshies about their plans for winter break, you get a bit homesick and tell them about some of the Christmas traditions of your world. So, they decided to look for a way to make NRC feel a little more like home to you before they all leave for winter break! It just so happens that a particular student with a crush on the Prefect learns of this and decides to do something special for them themselves.

Reader: GN reader - They/Them pronouns and reader is called 'MC/Prefect.'

Included Characters: Voted for by you all, as I write!

Warnings: Will be labeled per fic

Read the Prompts and First Character Vote Below!

The Prompts!: 

Day 1; Ice Skating

Day 2; Snowmen & Snow Angels

Day 3; Sleigh Ride

Day 4; Christmas Tree

Day 5; Christmas Music/Caroling

Day 6; Hot Chocolate

Day 7; Ugly Christmas Sweaters

Day 8; Christmas Cookies

Day 9; Decorating

Day 10; Gingerbread House

Day 11; Mistletoe

Day 12; Secret Santa

~~~

Casually getting side-tracked and writing scenes that don't even happen for another two fucking chapters.

Sometimes I just write a sentence or piece of dialogue that I'm like 'no, no, this will work better for a future scene' and instead of just cutting and pasting it somewhere for later, I write the whole scene!?!? And then put that aside for the future.

I mean, it'll be a nice surprise when I get to chapter 6 and already have a whole scene out of the way, but damn. It's delaying the current chapter, and making it hard to stay on task. Cool scenes though... Anyway, the moral of the story, Chapter #5 of Cult of the Lamb Redemption is almost done! So expect it on Ao3 and here soon, homies!

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.

MERRY CHRISTMAS MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!

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!

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 #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.