Hello! I'm Morgan, and I draw 'n' write! I have other accounts of a far more spicy nature, but this one is more focused on specifically Cult of the Lamb!
Currently, I am working on my main AU – Paradise Frost!
For a brief synopsis: Jalala and Rinor have just made it to the Paradise they have been searching for, meeting the Lamb and the Goat. The Lamb has been at this for a hundred years now, with almost no dead Bishops to show for it. Eventually, the weather begins to take a turn for the worse, and the normal canon events of the game are thrown entirely off track.
It's got pre-established Goatlamb, one-sided Narilamb (on the Lamb's part – the Goat knows about it and let's 'em despite his hatred of The One Who Waits.), and a slow buildup to eventual Jalanor.
There is also planned Narigoat and Narigoatlamb, but this will be far in the future.
I have other AUs I plan to write, and will put here as I go!
Also, I tag my art with #my art if you just wanna see the stuff I draw, and I tag my AU with #paradise frost au
they're not "dating" they're not "a couple" they're intrinsically connected and intertwined with each other for eternity. they're bound together like the stars. get with the program
snippet from that scifi story just bc i like the opening of the draft
exposition ramble beneath the snippet
The first thing Narinder should have been aware of was cognisant thought. Or so he'd read, studying the drone documentation on his encrypted network. The documentation was inaccurate, it seemed, because the first thing he was aware of was his filtration membranes. His lungs. Breath; expanding, collapsing, repeat. The first breaths he had ever taken.
Next, the pulmonary system. A beating heart, the oxygenated fluid that would keep the intricate hydraulic fibres moving smoothly.
Then thought, a conscious acknowledgement of what he was occupying: no longer banks of thousands of servers, deep beneath the hundreds of urban layers that shielded the surface. No, there was a chassis within him, joints and rods, springs and bolts, all of it draped in fibrous hydraulic muscle, wrapped in the pith of skin and the photovoltaic fur. Not completely; there was exposed muscle, o-fluid (blood?) dribbling out, on his upper limbs. Arms. Forearms, specifically.
It hurt, he realised. He'd never known pain before; he'd never breathed, never heard. The breathing was speeding up, hitching breaths as the pain reached his central cortex in his topmost shell (his head?), as root imperatives began to react, sluggish compared to what he had been before.
Pain was bad, the imperatives told him. Pain meant damage; damage meant loss of functionality; loss of functionality meant possible failure of his purpose. The end of things. He was meant to govern endings, not end himself.
A new sound. Clicking; hard polymer against a hard surface. The surface he lay on was rough, cold, slippery. Wet; water? Or blood? No, blood was warm.
A sharp intake of breath – not his own – then the clicking grew louder, heavier. Steps, coming closer. He heard words, much slower than the flicker flash communications he knew – but if it was faster, he wasn't sure his sensors (ears?) would process it clearly.
‘What the fuck? Who would – hell. Poor guy must've still been online,’ the voice said, the sound descending above him. ‘Fucking scavvers, I knew it was getting worse, but…'
The voice trailed off. Something touched Narinder – fingers, maybe – under his jaw. He had a jaw, a neck, and beneath the touch, his o-fluid tubes reacted to the pressure. Veins, arteries, capillaries. Those were the right words.
‘Oh, you're still – shit, okay, still online,’ and then there was a lot more touch. Arms moving under him, hands gripping, a grunt as he rose into the air and came to rest against a small chest. ‘Alright, let's see if we can keep you that way. Can you hear me? Make a noise, move, anything.’
He had visual sensors, he knew, with the shields still engaged. Eyes closed; three of them. He opened the one in the centre of his forehead, though it hurt, and it was barely a sliver. The sensor couldn't focus; all he could see was a pale blur, glowing at the edges, with two dark shadows side by side in the centre.
‘Oh, you're an old model,’ the voice said, sounding surprised. ‘I haven't seen that eye configuration in a while – no wonder someone tried to strip you for parts. Just hold on, okay?’
He needed an answer, but his vocaliser wasn’t responding (vocal cords? Mouth? Throat?)
His spinal column was a little more responsive, and so he manipulated the neck, inclining it to the best of his ability. A nod; he'd read that was a confirmation somewhere, hadn't he?
‘Great, you're doing great,’ the pale blob encouraged, and he closed his eye again. ‘Let's get going.’
log off AU is set on a future earth filled with robots ('drones', semi-organic androids) ruled by the five Bishops
the Bishops are AI that are in charge of keeping the planet running, thousands of years after the humans - the Old Ones - suffered an extinction event of their own making
lowest class of drones live in the Upper Crust, the highest and resource-poor levels of the numerous planetary megalopoli that serve as infrastructure for the Bishops' tasks. The safest levels are the surface, at the very bottom of each megalopolis, and the next are the mid levels, the Mantle
Narinder, the fifth Bishop, was locked into his systems and left to perform his duties for Reasons, but manages to escape with his identity file and installs himself on a drone to pursue his goals of revenge - only to find that drone currently bleeding out in an alley in the Upper Crust, attacked and left to shut down for unknown reasons
then a sheep drone (the sheep being an entire class of drone models currently being culled without his knowledge, in a usurpation of his duties by the other Bishops) finds him and picks him up
they ultimately become the central figure in his plans, being an idealistic and reckless drone with a knack for making friends and infecting others with their ideals, who only goes by the Lamb
shame they don't know who he is, but that won't ever be a problem
Also sorry for earlier unanswered requests im going through a huge burnout so some larger requests may take more time for me to finish. Thank you for understanding <33
Narinder refuses to worship The Lamb, but he does allow himself to worship The Red Crown--even if he and The Red Crown didn't part on good terms.
Here's what the Crown is saying btw
And those first few centuries of him wallowing and whining about being trapped--it was so annoying!
I was trapped, too, but he never asked me how I was handling it! It sucked for me, too!
And then he goes and passes me around like a joint at a frat party to all these unworthy vessels!
He gave me to a *fish* who lasted only 3 years before she gave me back!
At least the Rat knew how to use me! The fish couldn't throw a curse! She just looked a little like his first follower and he was feeling "nostalgic" blah blah blah
Finally, I can share my illustration for the @cotl-yoa zine!
I worked wayyy too long on this, repeatedly going back to change things, but I'm happy with how it came out. The Lamb is making wishes :). I wonder what they're wishing for...
Tumblr kills image quality, so HD download is here, and speedpaint below:
In taking a break from other comics, I discovered I had this on the back burner so I finished it up for y'all to enjoy.
While Aym and Baal being sacrificed to Narinder as children/babies is some yummy, yummy angst, in Death Awaits I want to have had the boys given to Nari as just barely adults so that they could be effective guardians for Nari yet young enough to activate the paternal instincts.
Of course, this requires the twins' memories to be slightly altered so that they are dedicated to their task. Just a little. Just enough so that they remember their training but none of their useless personal life before becoming Narinder's guardians.
Narinder and Esriaal have the chance to make their case to the council, explaining the One Who Waits' true methods. At the same time, the two of them navigate around one another, now that Esriaal is once more out of the Pastures. (11k)
How did Aym and Baal feel about the fusion in the two brows au ?
The twins aren't the biggest fans of the Amalgam. My Lamb had tried and failed to really earn their loyalty past social obligation. They generally ignore whatever is spoken with Lamb's voice, and obey when it's Narinder's. With time, they may come around.
To be a God is to be a weird pervert, the way I see it, but the way the two had taken the extra step of eternal fusion would catch even the Bishops off guard.
Leshy: "Haha, gross. Crazy shit. anyway,"
Heket: Believes that neither of them deserve such a 'happy ending'. She kinda hopes it kills them.
Kallamar: It's an absolute living nightmare for him. He can tell something went very wrong. It horrifies him, yet he can't look away.
Shamura: They can understand the appeal, but can see the corruption for what it is. They fear that yet another mistake has been made that cannot be taken back.
More answers:
I think they would close the two leftmost or rightmost eyes to wink, and the top eye would stay open? I dunno.
Two brains. They can harmonize and speak at once, but will also speak separately, taking turns. Since they can access one another's internal thoughts, language isn't needed for them to understand. This is why they can also "hear" the Crown, who does not speak a known language. Speaking out loud would reflect the respective party's understanding of the chosen language.
The combined experience and power of the two means the Amalgam has greater potential than any Crown bearer in recent history, yet their power is unstable. The Crown is no longer able to be called to hand as a weapon, but their claws can mutate into gauntlets, and their fighting style is inspired by both of their abilities. Though, coordinating to fight is hard to do, I suspect they would be a bit messy and feral with it, especially at first. Abilities related to tending to their flock, such as mind reading, stayed the same.
Ratau, like anyone with insight into how the two once were or how these things tend to work out, is concerned for their sanity. In a way, he grieves the little Lamb he first met so long ago, but it's out of his hands now.
There is no way in hell the unholy mashup of corrupted, rotting organs inside them could produce a child. If one came to be, it would undoubtedly be an abomination. We just don't know yet. KEEP TRYING!
The crown egg thing was probably a joke… Who knows if any crown actually lays eggs? None have actually witnessed it happen. One thing Narinder and Lamb noticed: Since fusing, they suddenly started feeling more attracted to Goat's crown, as if influenced by Red.
This AU, in part, serves as a way to express how one may feel drawn to codependency. (But USUALLY it's not that deep, usually it's just a sex thing.) The concept of fusion is symbolic of something I fantasize about, something I wish for even if I know it to be harmful, or impossible. Toxic relationships can feel really really fucking good sometimes, or else they wouldn't happen in the first place.
Are they happy together? They certainly think they are. But with such abstracted boundaries in a form that disrespects the laws of nature, can their thoughts be trusted to be theirs? And if they admitted to the faults, what is there to be done about it?
Would they do it again? Yeah, probably. In the BEST case scenario, they would like to find a way to reverse the fusion so they could choose to fuse at will, temporarily.
It was fun thinking about and writing out all these answers, but I still hate to call anything "canon" to my AU, because as always, I change my mind all the time, and like playing with different timelines and themes. I also like to be inspired by ideas you all throw out there, because I often get asked questions I wouldn't even think of on my own. I really love to hear what others may think could happen in TBAU, just as much as I like to ramble about it.
