#the sanctum of satan | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anamelessfool · 4 months

Text

Ribbons & Ties (AO3 Link) Chapter 3

GEN (Ch 2 Here) 2000ish words

Terzo x Omega, Terzo & Family, Terzo & His Ghouls, Cardinal Marian is in there for like ten minutes

Tags: Domestic Fluff, Commitment, Rom Com Energy, There's a Wedding, Secondo is Papa Emeritus, Gift Giving, The ghoul names are all messed up sorry it is for plot purposes, I can't have Fluff without some Angst sorry

For reasons beyond Terzo's understanding, he wants to give Omega a present for the ghoul's "birthday". It proves to be a lot more complicated than Terzo realizes.

Art by @kabukiaku used with permission

Chapter 3 Below the Cut! (We like Reblogs, Comments and Kudos omnomnom)

The wedding ceremony of Terzo's impossible older brother commences. There is at least one person up there who he feels truly loves him, unbelievably enough. And for an instant Terzo wishes their bond didn't exist in the shadows.

There was a row of guests in the Sanctum that stood out from the others, their necks craned upwards at the rafters, holding purses and adjusting ties. They looked lost, tourists let loose from their guide. Midst the formal vestments, headwear and honor cords was a dozen people dressed as best as they could be in ordinary suits and cocktail dresses. Most of them with expressions of polite confusion stamped across their faces.

“Bride's family,” Terzo explained to Omega as the two of them slipped in at the very last moment.

THEY HAVE NO IDEA. The ghoul gave an amused snort.

“They got this far, they have some idea,” Terzo replied. “Maybe not about what you are, but I'm thankful that's not my job. However—” Terzo gave a final once-over of his ghoul. As the clergy was dressed to the nines in all of their awards and marks of station, so were the ghouls. They each wore a black and silver suit with a dashing military half-cape, Secondo's ghouls with green silk lining, Terzo’s with violet. Terzo fixed the ornate silver buckle on the strap that stretched across Omega’s chest, tracing down the buttons of the jacket with a lingering finger.

Omega caught Terzo’s hand in his, an aura of soft affection pooling at his feet. LAST NIGHT WAS NICE. To no one’s surprise (had anyone known at all) they made up quickly after Terzo’s embarrassing attempt at offering his love a gift. Despite this, Terzo still felt a shade of shame. Omega had given him the most tender confession. A present Terzo half-picked out with an assistant in the last ten minutes of a workday was simply not enough.

Terzo looked shyly at the floor. “Not too loud,” he muttered with a smirk. “And you’ve forgotten this morning already? For shame. Now, one more thing, of course.”

The ghoul dutifully bent forward and Terzo adorned him with the finishing touches courtesy of the bride, a voluminous flower crown. “Not very Satanic but…I think it's a nice touch,” said Terzo, watching Omega go almost cross-eyed trying to look at the crown on his own head. “You'll do well.”

I’LL HONOR YOU. Omega was tasked with taking the lead on organizing the music, considering Terzo would be busy as a family member. With one last tender touch of their fingers, the ghoul took his leave.

That left Terzo to walk down the aisle himself to wish the couple well.

How many eyes followed him? How many heads turned, leaned towards their neighbor and whispered? He didn't want to pick out his conquests from the crowd, but it was easy to find at least one sibling in his periphery that knew him in a Biblical sense at one point.

If he realized how much more people would stare at him now that he was Papa Elect, would he have been a bit more careful? Maybe. That was always the problem for Future Terzo, but that version of himself was now colliding with the Present.

He could always count on Copia to provide him with a sincere dopey smile or weak wave but even he was lost in his own head. Sitting on the organ bench, gripping the wood, a too large floral boutineer pinned to his coat. Today's rigidness hinted at his desire for perfection.

At the end of the aisle an equally adorned Sister of Sin presented Terzo with a silk ribbon. He took it from her and faced the two figures standing just before the altar. Papa Emeritus II, his brother Maestro Secondo. The Provider of the Satanic Church of the Void. The virtuoso artist, the stoic magician, the ruthless climber. The relentless Will of Authority. But his brother, just the same. His difficult, impossible brother.

Beside him was his future wife Sandra, the nurse from the Infirmary. She was equally accomplished as a medical professional, researcher, fourth generation heir to her family’s memorial home in the real world beyond the Ministry. The mother of Papa’s child. Their left hands were clasped as one. All along their arms were a dozen or so ribbons tying them together.

Terzo looked into the eyes of Papa Emeritus II. For once, Papa had an expression that was more distant than disappointed.

“Terzo,” said his brother.

Papa Emeritus II wore his grand vestments on his wedding day, but his miter was humbly staged on the Papal throne nearby. Today he was merely Secondo, yet his pitted face kept its stormy severity. He chose to wear his skull visage, and the pair looked more like a painting of Death and the Maiden than anything else. Death and the Maiden, handfasted together.

The bride Sister Sandra was in a bright emerald green dress like soft clouds of fluffy tulle. Her freckled shoulders were bare. Her thick, platinum blonde hair started with a neat headband and then fell in a heavy swoop down her back. She had a bubbly, proud smile as she stood across from Secondo, the ties going up her thin arm.

Terzo gave a formal little bow and leaned forward to tie his ribbon around the couple’s arms. “Satana li fa e poi li accoppia.”

Secondo presented him with a noble nod of recognition, and Sandra smiled broadly. “Thank you for coming, Terzo,” she said.

Behind her on the altar was Sister Imperator, the Dark Mother. The Officiant. She was cloaked in her usual nest of transparent veils but even obscured by that Terzo could feel her eyes on him. Could feel her scowl of contempt.

Terzo scanned the Sanctum and his eyes rested on the one seat left for him—the front row, next to his father who was waving and grinning ear to ear. He bounced Secondo and Sandra’s baby son on his knees. Terzo smiled painfully. Best seat in the house.

“He's too smiley,” Terzo said as he sat down. The child immediately lunged for the Grucifix pendant on his vestments, but was stopped by Nihil’s firm grip on his body. His little mouth stretched open, a crooked jack-o'-lantern grin. Terzo didn't settle in, choosing to stare at the child, waiting. Baby Paul’s new game was to bite people and laugh at their reaction. “Why is Secondo’s kid so smiley?”

“Apparently you were smiley. They say he looks like you,” Nihil chuckled.

“Looks like me? What is that supposed to mean?” He watched his nephew stare at the flickering light on the walls from the stained glass and drool. “I had nothing to do with this.” He sneered. “Perhaps it's because he’s not bald, haha!”

Copia spun around on the organ bench and the music began, the colors of sound pealing beautifully out in all directions, the entire building shaking from the sleeping giant built within its walls. Little Paul shrieked nonsensically and took the opportunity to grab his grandfather by the throat and pull him in for an attempted bite.

Nihil was almost misty eyed as the ceremony began.“I didn't expect my boys to be the marrying type,” he said, untangling himself from the child’s tiny jaws. “Primo, maybe.”

Terzo watched Secondo help his bride organize the puffy tulle of her dress as best as he could with their arms tied together. Sandra laughed, a sparkling sound. “Especially not to that one,” muttered Terzo.

“At their core they're the same.”

Terzo found himself staring in Omega's direction. The ghoul was seated on a stool near the choir box, resting on his acoustic guitar. The ease in which he sat settled Terzo. Both beings had a strong air of confidence. But to Terzo, Omega’s confidence came from actual competency. His relaxed, strong presence came from him existing perfectly in his element, not some sort of smokescreen.

Omega noticed Terzo’s stare and met his gaze. He very softly, teasingly brushed a finger across the neck of his guitar, ending at its shoulder with circular strokes. Terzo swallowed, a thrill coursing through him.

There was at least one person up there who he felt truly loved him, unbelievably enough. And for an instant Terzo wished their bond didn't exist in the shadows.

“And though tides change and love may fade,” Sister intoned, her speech fading in and out of Terzo’s focus, “May your respect for the domain of the other hold fast, for the sake of your honor and the sake of your progeny…”

“I've always been a wanderer,” said Nihil suddenly in Terzo’s ear. “Can't help nature. You and I are alike like that.”

“I thought I took after the baby,” said Terzo. “Make up your mind, old man.”

The organ music swelled, filling the air with swirls of meticulously played noise.

“Ah! That's my cue!” Nihil stood up so suddenly his knees cracked. He twisted at the waist and dropped his grandson into Terzo’s arms.

“Hey—what?!” Terzo yelped over the organ interlude, catching the baby just in time.

Terzo had spent most of his life expertly avoiding events he did not want to attend. Now he was stuck and very much in public view. The only thing he could do was watch, and as he watched he assessed, just like everyone around him. Events one was required to attend made one imagine their own selves in the scenario, Terzo included. And as he watched Sister and Nihil drone on and participated in the endless kneeling and standing he made his own conclusions. I don't want this.

Secondo and Sandra’s left arms were fully tied together, a tangle of dozens of colorful ribbons placed one by one. At the end of the ceremony the Dark Mother would present the groom with an athame, and he would cut through all of the ribbons and that would be the end. The physical tie would fall to the floor, but the tie of souls would be upheld. Forever.

Maybe I want some of this. Maybe just a little.

Was that why the most simple act of giving a gift to his ghoul make his mind go to pieces? His Will scatter to the winds? Choice leered at him. Permanence haunted him.

Secondo dutifully took the athame from Sister. The congregation watched the ties fall, one by one. The many physical ties transmuted into one impenetrable, astral bond. They were beholden no longer to the will of those around them. The couple stood together, withstanding the entire world.

Us versus the entire world. Not just me. Us.

Terzo felt a sharp jab across his hand and he yelped, gripping the child in his arms. “Agh! Patatino!”

Little Paul gnashed his teeth, letting out a loud, wild cackle.

My AO3 | Tumblr Fic List | My Terzo/Omega Fics

NEXT CHAPTER (4)

#ghost fandom #ghost scenes from the void #domestic december #terzomega #terzo x omega #omega ghoul #papa emeritus iii #fluff fic #ghost band fic

24 notes · View notes

bardnuts · 3 months

Text

17: Twill Slips Away

In which Twill communes with livestock

Be Gay, Do Drugs, Hail Satan - Chapter 17 - bardnuts - Baldur's Gate (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own]

“And that’s how I fulfilled my oath and discovered the true meaning of friendship,” says Wyll. “Not a story for the faint of heart, I know, but there it is. What about you?”

It’s the dead of night. The air is frigid but the three of you are seated around Wyll’s tiefling friend Karlach, who has a medical condition of some persuasion and puts out enough heat to roast a sausage on. You’re camped in a low hollow off the enclave’s main cavern, safe inside the palisade. Wyll has spent the past hour spinning a yarn about his time since the nautiloid crash, something whimsical involving devils and mechanical organs and a case of mistaken identity, and you have hardly heard a word.

Your thoughts are a morass of red and black fluids, sliding around each other inside your head. The sound of your own pulse is a persistent beat at the base of your skull. Something is terribly wrong, and you can’t make it go away.

Astarion doesn’t look much better. He isn’t just pale, he’s translucent. He licks his lips every time he speaks. How often do vampires need to feed? Clearly more often than this.

You sit hunched on your bedrolls in a kind of covalent misery, subdued by your respective blood hungers.

Wyll seems to be having a wonderful evening.

Karlach is snoring.

“What about us, what?” asks Astarion.

You, at least, are certain your hunger has a cure. You’re sure the tadpole is causing it. If Halsin can extract your parasite, your urges will cease and you’ll be in command of your own mind again. You think you’re running out of time. Your face keeps making expressions on its own: a scowl, a grimace, an evil smile. Vile words bubble up on your tongue and you have to force them back down. You’re scared of yourself.

“Tell me about yourselves! Who you are, where you’ve been—before our untimely capture, I mean.”

Who are you, really?

No one you want to be.

Your hands tremble. You don’t have the wherewithal to reach for your lute, and you can’t remember how to play.

“Ugh, nobody and nowhere worth fawning over,” says Astarion. “I’m a magistrate back in the city. It’s all very tedious. But you …” He levels a slender finger at Wyll. “The Blade of Frontiers. My, my. Did you choose such a dashing title for yourself?”

Wyll laughs awkwardly. “Uh, well, you see …”

Your vision is swimming. Strange shapes dance at your periphery, vanishing when you turn your head. Hallucinations? You look down at your hands. They’re bruised. They’re clean. They’re covered in blood.

What is wrong with you?

You blink, and an hour has passed. Wyll and Astarion have moved to a more distant corner of the hollow and are chatting amiably with one another. You frown. You’ve agreed to join Wyll and Karlach’s venture to find Halsin—you’re all running on the same hourglass, after all, counting down to illithid-o’-clock—but you’re surprised by Astarion’s instant gravitation toward Wyll. He hasn’t so much as glanced your way since you left the druids’ sanctum. Why, you wonder, does he find Wyll’s enthusiasm so charming but yours so irritating?

Perhaps he’s afraid of you.

Good. Yes, excellent! It’s about time you received the respect that you’re owed. But you could do so much more to enforce your reputation. these aren’t your thoughts Tonight you will—

“No!” you snap. Astarion and Wyll fall silent at once. Karlach sits up with an aborted snore.

“SssnUGH—what? Somethin’ wrong?”

You lick your lips. Your mouth is full of paper. “All fine! Spider got on my … shoe …”

“Well, don’t hurt her,” mumbles Karlach, settling back down. “We’re in her house, you know.” The snore resumes before the end of her sentence.

Astarion is staring at you intently.

You collect yourself. “Does Gandrel know?” you ask Wyll, pointing to your eye. “About the worms?”

Wyll glances toward the hollow’s entrance. “No,” he says after a moment. “I think he knows we all fell from the nautiloid. It’s the only thing we all have in common. But I don’t think the other fish has swum into the net yet, if you get my meaning.”

“Ehm—no, frankly,” says Astarion.

“I mean he hasn’t worked out why a group of totally disparate strangers would be on a nautiloid in the first place,” whispers Wyll. “I think some of the refugees from Elturel have, but they have bigger things to worry about at the moment.” He shakes his head. “We need to find Halsin fast. Those kids don’t have long in there.”

“Oh please, it’s no contest if it comes to a fight,” scoffs Astarion. “Not when half the druids in the enclave are decorating the inside of a fishbowl.”

“It isn’t funny. If the wrong person finds them, they could be killed.”

“Darling,” says Astarion, placing a hand on Wyll’s shoulder, “call it tragic if it makes you feel better, but don’t you dare tell me it isn’t funny.”

Wyll sucks in his breath. “All right, it’s a little funny.”

Astarion smiles. “There you are.”

They both chuckle. Your head begins to swim again. You focus on their conversation to keep your awareness from slipping inward, into the yawning morass of yourself.

“Why stay?” Astarion asks. “Here, I mean. You have the same unwelcome houseguest as the bard and me, but instead of looking for a healer you’ve been—what? Hunting gnolls for a group of strangers? Why?”

“Because they needed my help,” says Wyll.

“I’m sure they will appreciate it very much when you explode into tentacles in front of them,” says Astarion dryly.

“It hasn’t happened yet. Besides, there’s something different about our parasites. We ought to have symptoms by now—hells, we ought to be insensible, shivering on our bedrolls as our skin peels off, layer by layer—”

“Eugh.”

“A grim portrait, I know. But …” Wyll shrugs. “Nothing.”

“Maybe they’ve died,” suggests Astarion.

You all know that isn’t true. Even if you couldn’t feel it moving around in there, the four of you are connected, peripherally: you feel Astarion’s presence in the world like a phantom limb, and you’re beginning to sense Wyll and Karlach in the same way. Your illithid worms are binding you together.

Wyll chuckles again. “We can only hope. And we can only hope Halsin knows of a cure. And that Halsin forgives what those kids have done to his people. Gods … I have a headache.”

“Do you want something for it?” asks Astarion. He produces a small bottle. “It’s amazing, what druids leave lying around in locked drawers in their private quarters.”

Your head is pounding. You need a distraction. Someone to pull you out of this. Anything. You shuffle gradually to your feet, drawing curious glances from Astarion and Wyll, and mumble, “Going for a walk.”

Suddenly you are standing by the oxpens in the larger cavern. You don’t remember coming here. Your awareness stutters in and out like the sun passing behind thick clouds. You fold yourself over the fence, saliva pooling in your mouth as nausea overwhelms you.

You’ve held yourself in for too long. There is a smirking edge to this thought. Did you think that was a real solution? Behind the dam, the pressure only builds.

Why can’t you simply be normal?

You do a very good job pretending to be a person. It serves you well.

You aren’t pretending anything.

Oh, but you are. You know when to smile and when to frown, which questions to ask, where to tease, where to commiserate … but it’s all paper dolls, isn’t it? Authenticity is for organs and offal. If anyone knew what you really were—your true self, under all that decoration—they would run from you in terror.

You don’t want anyone to be afraid of you.

No, you have never been interested in power, only in praise. But what good is being liked, if it comes at the expense of yourself? Of your birthright? Your purpose? You feel a stir of air on your cheek, almost like a gentle caress. Love yourself. Be true to your art. Tragedy and blood: that is your craft, and people are your medium.

You shiver. If you wished, you could be the savage ghost that haunts this grove. Sweep through and slit a few throats, then slip away in the small hours before the morning watch. You gleefully consider your options, who to leave alive and who to kill for maximum effect … Arabella, but not Mol. Zevlor—so there’s no one to lead the refugees.

no no no no no

That tiefling bard you played with—she’s much too talented to live. You always hated them, the ones who played better than you, and it will be a good

what is wrong with you

first step back toward your old self. The first rung on the ladder, so to speak. And you’ll need to fix your mistake with the Ravengard boy. Pathetic of you to stoop so low. Irresponsible, irredeemable behavior, but you can set it right …

these are not your thoughts this is not

what is it what is wrong

with me

There is no “me.”

There is only you.

One of the oxen snorts, its hot breath steaming up in a cloud. You raise your head and meet its glittering eye. Then, behind you, someone speaks:

“Can’t sleep?”

You turn and find Gandrel leaning against the fence a few paces away.

Your voice comes out remarkably steady. “I can’t ever sleep.”

“Aye. Me neither, it seems.” But he’s still dressed in his leathers, his sword belt still fastened. He’s awake on purpose. “Forgive me, but you seem unwell.”

He needn’t worry. You’ll feel much better, very soon.

“I’ll be fine.” You offer him a strained smile. “I suffer from … night terrors. Nausea.”

Gandrel watches you implacably for a moment. “My daughter had the same ailment. Do you want to know what helped her?”

You nod.

“We tried bedtime stories. She loved tales of roving heroes and daring adventurers. Those tales didn’t work on her night terrors—her dreams always managed to twist them into something horrifying. No, what worked in the end was laughter. If she woke up in tears, we’d ask what made her cry, and whatever it was—monsters in the dark, a drowned cat, Papa dead and gone—we’d sit and find a way to make a joke out of it. Very bleak jokes they were, too, sometimes. But they worked, so long as they got her laughing. The nightmares lost their power over her.”

“Hm. Know any good ones?”

“I’m not privy to your nightmares,” says Gandrel. “But you’re a bard—I’m sure you can cook up a few.”

You force out a noise similar to a laugh. He ought to leave now, if he wants to live. But he doesn’t. Instead he leans in closer.

“Tell me,” he says quietly, “you and your pale friend fell from the nautiloid, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I had a feeling the ‘roving bard’ story was an act. You both look too haggard and you’re too ill-equipped to have come here of your own volition, and your timing … well, everyone saw the nautiloid fall. If it weren’t for all the other dangers plaguing this place, it would be all anyone was talking about.” Gandrel toys absently with a loop of leather on his belt. “How long have you known your friend, really?”

“Not long.”

“I see. And …”

This is it. The two-hundred-dollar question.

“What’s his name?”

You meet Gandrel’s probing gaze. “His real name? To be honest, I don’t know. I never thought to ask.”

Deception: success

“Hm,” says Gandrel. “Master Twill, you took an interest in my work over lunch. Do you want to know why I’m hunting this particular vampire spawn? This ‘Astarion.’”

“If you’d care to tell me.”

“He’s the servant of a master vampire active in the lands around Baldur’s Gate. Cazador Szarr is his name. I don’t know how much you know of vampires—a fair piece, I’m guessing, given your education—but they are cruel, capricious, tyrannical creatures. They feed on trust and procreate by deception.” Gandrel takes a breath. “A great many of Cazador’s victims have been taken from my own community.”

“Seems like Cazador is the one you should be hunting then, doesn’t it?”

“He’s untouchable. And I don’t choose who I hunt. My people sent me after Astarion for one purpose: to capture him, bring him back alive, and open a pathway to his master.”

You count the tap of your fingertips against the fencepost. One-two-three-four. “A noble cause. Do you have any strong leads?”

“I have no record, no physical description, no information apart from his name and his race,” says Gandrel. “No leads, except for one: he was likely aboard the very same nautiloid whose destruction you have survived. It isn’t often a vampire spawn is separated so completely from his master. For my people, it represents a rare opportunity.”

You’ve always hated lying outright. Not because it’s wrong, of course, but because it’s sloppy. There is no artistry in a bold-faced lie. No interactivity. The best lies, you’ve always felt, begin with the truth.

“Do you know, Gandrel,” you say, speaking to the watching ox in its darkened pen, “I hope you find him. I really, really do.”

He pats your shoulder. You bide your time. “Thank you,” he says. “For working with me. I hope you’ll come to Baldur’s Gate with us when the road is safe for the refugees to leave. I think we may be friends indeed.”

“Yes,” you murmur, “and sooner than you think.”

Gandrel nods. “Good man.” He seems about to say something more, but instead he nods, pats your shoulder again, and slips away into the dark.

You smile to yourself.

#bg3 #twill cavander #astarion #the dark urge #be gay do drugs hail satan #read my drivel boy

9 notes · View notes

mizzmellos · 9 months

Text

learned how to shake my hips in the inner sanctum, satan gave me tips and then I thanked him xo

#Death Note #Mello #Mihael Keehl #originally drawn Sept 2016 #again. because i can't post links.#THE CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LEATHER LAGOON <- LISTEN TO IT NOWWWWWWW #most of the cramps' songs are pretty good #mizz art

18 notes · View notes

natalieironside · 7 months

Note

You should check out Kittencatnoodle's YouTube video on the Sanctum league and overall Templar lore of PoE. TL;DW Space refugees fear symbol of Space Satan, some human is like "I'm gonna use that fear to become god", throws his brother under the bus, and becomes Innocence.

youtube

oh fuck yes

#find later #p of e

14 notes · View notes

aleisternacht · 1 year

Text

"Volume II: Corpus Satanas", the second book in the "Sanctum of Shadows" series, explains the interrelationships between Satan and Satanic Demons who exist just beyond, yet regularly transverse, our dimension. https://www.amazon.com/Sanctum-Shadows-II-Corpus-Satanas-ebook/dp/B00K276HEY

8 notes · View notes

gh0ulishsanctum · 11 months

Text

𝕬𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖀𝖘

'' The ashes call my name. ,,

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　⛧　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙ We are The Sanctum system, our main fronters are Dew, and Haze. We are originated from America, and 19 years old.

Hi, my name is Dew, I'm the main host for this system and you'll most likely be speaking to me or seeing things I post, We are apart of multiple fandoms, including: Ghost, STARSET, Sleep Token, Dungeons and Dragons, and various others. We are proudly apart of The Satanic Temple, and adore card reading. Capricorn sun, Leo rising, Virgo moon Our main focus of posting will be in the Ghost fandom, we will be posting Art, writing, headcanons, ext. so feel free to send in asks about the ghouls! ‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　⛧　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙ gh0ulishsanctum on discord

COMM PRICES

headshot lines only - 5 USD flat color - 10 USD rendered - 15 USD

Bust Lines only - 5 USD flat color - 10 USD Rendered - 15 USD

halfbody Lines only - 10 USD flat color - 15 USD Rendered - 20 USD

Fullbody Lines only - 20 to 25 USD depending on complexity Flat color - 25 to 30 USD depending on complexity rendered - 30 to 40 USD depending on complexity

Reference sheets (2 bodies (same pose) + addons) Flat color - 45 USD (Includes Color swatches, "bare" body (no nsfw), clothed body, eye ref, and oc info) Headshot addon (separate hairstyle ext) - 5 USD Tattoo addons - 5-15 USD depending on complexity Chibi addon - 10-20 USD depending on oc complexity

Painted scenes can be up to 55 USD depending on what you're wanting

Backgrounds are broken up into three categories Full scene - 20 USD added Shape background - 10 USD added flat color / gradient - 5 USD added

Added characters to a piece will vary depending on design, just like a single character piece. however they will most likely be the same price listed for a single character.

ADDITIONAL INFO

Will NOT draw: Animals / anthro NSFW or suggestive Heavy gore Mecha

PREFERENCES Ghouls Humanoids

WE USE CASHAPP, OUR TAG IS $gh0ulishsanctum - do NOT pay us until AFTER We send you the completed watermarked piece. If you are interested, We will dm you examples of our art, We would prefer to communicate through Discord for such matters.

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　⛧　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙ This blog is 18+, there will be NSFW and Adult content posted, we encourage minors to pass our account by due to this fact. We are not responsible for YOUR actions. We have not officially been Diagnosed with DID/OSDD, nor do we have the resources to do so at this time, we will never claim to be diagnosed, simply that we are a dissociative system as our partner systems have called it. We will NOT be answering asks about such matters, as we are not here for Drama, if you are uncomfortable, pass us by. our tags will be: Ghoulish Inquires for Asks, and Reblogs Ghoul Talks for Other posts such as Headcanons Ghoulish Arts for Art pieces, and Writing. Ghoulish Games for Tag games ‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　⛧　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

'' The glow of the Fire will light up the Night. ,,

WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE IF YOU DO NOT READ OUR PINNED POST.

#ghoulish inquires #ghoul talks #this is important

2 notes · View notes

metaphysicalpistolsoraclemine · 1 year

Text

Currently on the earth, without common knowledge of the NAA agenda that uses many forms of Artificial intelligence and Satanic Ritual Abuse to Mind Control and implant the public, there is much controversy on the discussions on positive and negative results of AI, as it is a growing threat to the planet, as well as a threat to human freedom and sovereignty.

youtube

Ayahuasca, also commonly called yagé, is an entheogenic brew made out of Banisteriopsis caapi vine, often in combination with various other plants. It can be mixed with the leaves of Chacruna or Chagropanga, dimethyltryptamine (DMT)-containing plant species. [1]

Ayahuasca, other ceremonial shamanic plants and psychedelic drugs are high risk behaviors that invite Attachments, Addiction Webbing and Possession for human beings on the planet during the Ascension Cycle at this time.

Ayahuasca plant spirit has been hijacked by many of the dark avatars and the consortium of NAA entities that are on this planet during the Ascension Cycle looking to harvest Soul bodies and the possibility to take over the physical body. It is designed to interfere with true spiritual communication links and shut off the neurological communication functions between the persons consciousness and their higher spirit. It will install its own software programs to run the body, and brain in the autonomic functions of the Central Nervous System. It is usually an astral enlightenment program to trick the person into believing their artificially induced spiritual and altered consciousness state is real. The Ayahuasca plant is connected to a massive spirit, that has grown in size from many people being falsely lead on this path and taking it at high quantities during this time. The design of this plant ceremony in most common cases, is that the spirit of the plant is manipulated by negative forces that want the original consciousness of the person taking the drug to leave the body and/or change Timelines. The goal for the Imposter Spirit that want to take over the human body either in the current time, or in the future timelines, use the Ayahuasca plant to act as its conduit and dark portal opening to allow access into the inner spiritual sanctum of that person.

From the Guardian Krystal Star host perspective, Ayahuasca should be avoided and steps taken to understand its true energetic signature and know who is behind its aggressive promotion in the spiritual communities.

#artificial intelligence #ayahuasca #youtube

4 notes · View notes

alatismeni-theitsa · 2 years

Note

Actually in Orthodoxy we have the original sin, which is why the baptism happens and why you must exorsize Satan from inside the baby. Before the baptism the baby has Satan in them because of "Eve's sin".

But even after the baptism the female baby will never be brought into the Sanctum, because girls will always have a stain in them due to Eve

It makes sense to exorcise Satan before you get baptized as an adult but babies are not considered sinful. This ritual must have stayed from the years only adults were baptized. The passage says "I denounce Satan" (in English translation) which doesn't necessarily mean you are with him before that. It's just means that you don't want to proceed under his power.

I am not sure about the "stain of Eve" thing, first time I heard it today. Only the male babies enter the Sanctum because only males are allowed to enter it in general. Notice that even after they are baptized and have all sin removed, females are still not allowed in. So it's not about Eve but about the belief that the men are the leaders of the women and therefore a bit closer to God. (Which I don't like as a notion but this is the rule of the religion. And for the same reason only men are allowed in the clergy)

If old church fathers have said otherwise let me know

#answered #orthodoxy

15 notes · View notes

beelsnack · 2 years

Text

Lost and Found - How My Mc Kieran Found Their Cat Jiji

I realized earlier that I have a few pieces written about my MC Kieran that I haven't shared (because I didn't think people would be too interested lol) So, have some mc content.

A bit of Kieran lore: They're an empath, which I write as a mix of synthesia and sensitivity to people's emotions. It wasn't that big of a deal in the Human Realm, but the raw magic of the Devildom dials their sensitivity up to 11, and can result in migraines. The longer they spend in the Devildom, the more they adjust to it, but their first few days in the exchange program are spent holed up in their room feeling like their skull was going to explode.

-----

All they had wanted to do was go for a walk.

Nothing could be simple, however. Seeing as the Devildom was populated mainly by demons, and they were a mere, fleshy human, Kieran was usually accompanied by one of the brothers if they even stepped over the garden wall. They understood, of course - even if they were Diavolo’s precious little socio-economic experiment, there were some demons who wouldn’t hesitate to take a chunk out of them if the opportunity arose. And for the most part, they appreciated having someone there to keep them company.

But holy shit, they were loud.

Not just on a physical level, although they had that going for them, too. The screaming matches at the House of Lamentation were legendary. But each of the brothers’ emotions had a distinct vibe to them that all mixed together and molded into a battering ram that was constantly smacking against Kieran’s empath abilities.

Mammon’s greed tasted like metal. Asmo’s lust smelled like strawberry lip gloss. Satan’s wrath felt like standing too close to a bonfire. They were getting better at it, but if Kieran didn’t make a conscious effort not to be too keyed into the other residents’ mental states, it could result in a serious migraine.

Some days weren’t so bad. The stars would align perfectly and none of the brothers would be too worked up over something. But, more often than not, someone was pissed off, someone made a mountain out of a molehill, or Lucifer didn’t have time to drink his morning coffee and everything dissolved into chaos.

This would normally be the time that Kieran would seek out whichever demon was the least emotionally explosive and ask them to go on a walk with them. Usually it was either Beel or Mammon, with Levi coming in at a close second if they could coax him out of his inner sanctum. But, for whatever reason, every one of them was either busy or annoyed, which was just honestly making everything worse.

Plan B was going over to Purgatory Hall. Simeon and Luke were typically easier on their brain - something something celestial energy something, Simeon had explained it but Kieran hadn’t really been paying a whole lot of attention - and Solomon was working on a potion that would dull their Empath senses. If no one was there to let them in, then they would be perfectly content to sit in their garden until someone came home.

At least, they had been. That was before the sky opened up.

Storms in the Devildom were no joke. The farther one got away from the Demon Lord’s Castle, the more intense the weather got. There were some regions where the rain was corrosive enough that buildings had to be made out of special material that could withstand acid, and there was a city farther south where the lightning purposefully always struck the same spot twice. Because fuck you, apparently.

In the heart of the Devildom, it was a bit milder, but that still meant that the rain was almost horizontal and the wind could knock Kieran over. Turns out, it was hard to tell when it was about to start storming when you were stuck in eternal darkness.

Their black hoodie had done absolutely nothing against the downpour, and the rainwater pooling in the dips of the cobblestone street they were walking down had already seeped through their purple knock-off Converse and into their socks. Which may or may not be their own fault for actively jumping in puddles.

Whatever, carpe diem or some shit.

They knew traipsing about in the rain probably wasn’t their best idea, but something about it was refreshing. Hopping onto the sidewalk with a squelch from their soaked shoes, Kieran closed their eyes, tipped their head back, and just listened. The steady beating of the rain against stone, the rumble of thunder, wind blowing through the trees…

…Meowing?

They shook themself out of their dramatic reverie. That was definitely a meow they heard. Close by, too.

If Kieran hadn’t stopped by that exact alleyway, they wouldn’t have heard it at all. Poor thing was crying, it sounded terrified. Kieran didn’t think twice about turning around and heading down the alleyway. They barely thought once, actually.

It wasn’t a very long alley. The only thing in there was a dumpster shoved against the right wall and a couple of stomped-out cigarettes in a pile next to the door that led into the restaurant on the left. Considering that there wasn’t a kitten rolling around in the pile of smokes, Kieran took an educated guess and headed for the dumpster.

The mewling stopped for a moment as Kieran got close. They could hear some scrambling around, but it wasn’t metallic, so that meant that the poor thing was probably hiding under the dumpster in an attempt to take shelter from the rain.

What the hell, they were already soaked. Flipping their hood back so that they could see better, Kieran dropped to their hands and knees, peering under the dumpster.

The cat had remained quiet, and Kieran couldn’t see anything. They were beginning to wonder if it was just a mischievous ghost playing a prank on them and began to push themself up. However, their change in position caused the orange glow from the streetlight to hit at just the right angle, and Kieran saw the flash of the cat's eyes, tucked against the wall.

“There you are,” Kieran grinned. “You picked a hell of a place to camp out, friend.”

They reached into the pouch on their hoodie, pulling out their phone and turning the flashlight on. The cat jumped at the sudden light, mewling weakly.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Kiera dropped their voice to a little bit above a whisper. “I just wanna see you a bit better. I know you’re scared, it’s okay.”

The cat - kitten, there was no way a thing that tiny was more than a few months old - pressed itself as flat against the wall as it could, hissing. It was all black, head to toe. Kieran couldn’t even tell what color its eyes were, since the pupils were blown wide out of sheer terror.

Slowly, Kieran scanned their light up and down the kitten’s body. It was a few feet away, and hard to see because of its black fur, but they still wanted to check and see if there were any glaring injuries. Turns out they picked up something from Branna after all.

Nothing looked broken, and there didn’t seem to be any blood. It seemed to be completely okay until Kieran’s light caught a little bald spot as it shifted.

“Oh, no, don’t tell me…”

Yup, there was a pentagram carved into the kitten’s tiny chest, right over the heart.

Kieran wanted to throw up. Satan had told them before that a lot of stupid humans sacrificed cats in his name, especially around Halloween. He said he always wanted to get his hands on them and beat the reason why out of them, because all it did was send the poor cats to the Devildom to live on the streets. If they were lucky, they got found and taken to a shelter, but if they weren’t…

Satan hadn’t actually been able to tell them the next part, because it made him so angry that Kieran felt like their arm was burning.

“Poor thing, they hurt you,” Kieran murmured. “No wonder you’re terrified.”

Taking a deep breath - and trying to ignore the scent of wet garbage - they reached their hand beneath the dumpster, palm flat against the ground and fingers splayed out. It wouldn’t be the first time that Kieran used their magic to get an animal to like them.

They closed their eyes, imagining a spiderweb of light emerging from their fingertips. Not approaching the kitten, they kept it within a foot or so, but enough to allow the kitten to investigate.

It took a moment. Kieran watched, wiggling their fingers to make their imaginary spiderweb dance enticingly. Slowly, unsure, the kitten leaned its nose forward and took a few careful sniffs. When nothing attacked, it gingerly put one paw out, keeping low to the ground.

It stalked forward like it was afraid something was going to hurt it, and it made Kieran want to lunge forward and scoop it up. But they waited. They were already laying face down in the mud in front of a dumpster, they didn’t want all of their effort to go to waste because a cute kitty made them lose their shit.

They lost track of how much time it took for the kitten to finally make its way to the edge of the dumpster to sniff at Kieran’s hand. It must have been a friendly thing in the Human Realm, because after a few curious sniffs, it nuzzled its little face against the back of Kieran’s knuckles.

“There you are, friend,” they spoke softly. “Thanks for coming out. I’m going to pick you up now, okay?”

Slowly, Kieran brought themself into a crouch and slipped their hand beneath the kitten’s belly. It was still so young that they only needed one hand to scoop it up. They could feel it’s tiny little shade-heart beating erratically against their palm as they brought it up against their torso.

“I know I’m probably not much better than the ground,” Kieran laughed, shaking their rain-soaked auburn hair out of their face. “But we’ll get you all warm and safe, promise.”

They were just about to start walking when their phone started ringing. If it hadn’t, they likely would have just forgotten it on the ground where they had left it. Internally wincing at their forgetfulness, they bent down to pick it up.

“Satan, you have great timing.”

—--

Satan met them at the garden gate. As soon as Kieran had mentioned cat and disobeying Lucifer, he had been game for whatever shenanigans they were about to engage in.

The brothers had all begun to get panicky when they realized that Kieran had slipped out without an escort. Which was sweet, they supposed, but also very annoying. Fortunately, Kieran was an expert of taking advantage of chaos, and they had all of the secret tunnels and hidey-holes of the House of Lamentation memorized.

They couldn’t remember to do their homework, but causing mischief? Perfect recollection.

There were a couple of loose bricks around the side of the House that, if you knocked on them counterclockwise five times from the six o’clock position, would dissolve away to reveal a path that led straight to the observatory.

The kitten had settled down into Kieran’s arms, but was still looking around at everything and flinching whenever something moved. Although it seemed very entertained by the torches that lined the corridor.

Satan pushed the door open, holding it for Kieran while he extinguished the torches with a wave of his hand. “There. Perfect execution.”

“Are you doing shenanigans without me?”

Satan and Kieran both jumped, causing the kitten to let out a distressed “mrreow!” and dig its claws into the sleeve of Kieran’s hoodie.

“Damn it, Belphie, don’t do that,” Satan spat, shutting the door.

“You’re the ones who waltzed in here. You scared me half to death,” Belphegor drawled, lying stretched out on one of the couches and looking very much not scared half to death. “What do you have there?”

“I rescued a kitty,” Kieran said, moving the kitten a bit further out to Belphie could see it. “Some numbnuts sacrificed her to Satan and I found her hiding under a dumpster when I was out for a walk.”

Belphie blinked owlishly at them before beginning to count on his fingers. “Bringing an animal into the House. Leaving without a guardian. Using the secret passageways for non-emergency reasons. Tracking in dirt. That’s four of Lucifer’s rules you broke in one go,” he grinned. “Nice going.”

“I do what I can.”

“Have you decided on a name yet?” Satan asked, leaning over Kieran’s shoulder to watch the kitten. She had calmed down from her little fright and was instead sniffing the air curiously.

“Jiji.” Kieran said decisively.

“Jiji?” Belphie tilted his head. “Like from the movie?”

“You watch Ghibli movies?”

“Levi went through a phase and took me with him.”

Satan scowled. “Do I want to know?”

“Actually, you would probably like the movie I got the name from,” Kieran shrugged, adjusting their arms until they could hold Jiji up to their face. “What do you think, friend? Do you like the name Jiji?”

Jiji stared at Kieran, pupils finally narrowed enough for them to see that her eyes were green. Everyone was quiet, watching the human and kitten stare at each other.

After a long moment, Jiji reached out a paw and booped Kieran’s nose.

“She likes it!”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #oc kieran #obey me satan #obey me belphie

7 notes · View notes