#ritual sacrifice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whumpsday · 8 months

Text

Power Play

Writing Masterlist

content: kidnapping, ritual sacrifice, begging, hand whump, impalement, mouth whump, knives/skin carving, demon whumper, creepy whumper, major character death, gore

this is my piece for @zineofgid !! this was such an awesome project to work on :)

you can still buy the guys in distress zine here! proceeds go to the charity RAINN. there are limited physical copies and unlimited digital copies, as well as some merch left. do keep in mind that while my piece is sfw, this is an 18+ zine and a lot of other contributors' pieces are very much NOT sfw!

this piece was done as part of a collaboration with @whump-queen, with ocs we made together! he made art that accompanies this piece, you can view it here! it depicts the end of the story so you might wanna wait til after you read it though if you care about spoilers (also linked at the end)

Jonah’s breaths came hard and fast as Reese dumped him out of the large duffle bag, onto the cold floor of his basement.

He immediately tried to struggle to his feet, but his wrists and ankles had been bound with way too many layers of duct tape, making it impossible. Reese easily kicked him to the floor, placing a boot firmly on his chest and keeping him there.

“Ah-ah-ah.” his captor tutted, ripping the tape off his mouth. “I’m sorry to say that you will never see outside this room again.”

“You’re crazy!” Jonah screamed, unable to keep the terror out of his voice. His heart hammered in his chest, right under Reese’s boot.

“You have been messing with my campaign.” Reese countered, as if kidnapping was equivalent to Jonah doing his damn job. “Arnett didn’t start climbing in the polls until she brought you on as manager.” He dug his boot in deeper, making it a little hard for Jonah to breathe, pressing his bound wrists painfully into the floor under his back.

Despite admittedly-minimal efforts to retain his composure, Jonah found himself trembling. “So, what? You’re going to- kill me?”

There was no way he could fight this man off. Reese was bigger and stronger than him; it was pathetic how little he’d been able to struggle when Reese had initially incapacitated him. Now he was bound with tape and at an even bigger disadvantage. The thought that he could really die here blared through his mind like a siren, urging him to do whatever he could to escape, as if there was anything he could do.

“Not exactly. I’m not going to kill you.” Reese finally stepped off Jonah’s chest, only to kick him over and press a knee into his back instead. “Don’t mistake this as petty vengeance. I needed someone, and you happened to be an enticing target.”

It was only then, staring across the floor instead of at the ceiling, that Jonah noticed his surroundings.

A large pentagram, easily five feet, laid painted red in the center of the room, a hammer and nails set next to it.

“What the fuck?” he whispered in cold horror.

“Thanks to you, it’s clear that a good, honest campaign by a good, honest man isn’t enough to make it in politics. Luckily, there are other ways to get ahead in life, if you do enough research,” Reese explained, like it made perfect sense.

“Is that blood?” Jonah asked, voice small, staring at the red of the pentagram painted meticulously into the floor.

“It is. My very own.”

Jonah’s line of questioning was instantly interrupted when felt the side of a blade against his forearm.

He writhed, his struggles renewed. “Get away from me with that thing!”

“Hold still, or I might nick you. You want that tape off, don’t you?” Reese leaned down. Jonah could feel his breath on the back of his neck as Reese’s knee pressed further into his lower back.

Jonah went still, barring the tremors he couldn’t control. As much as he hated to admit it, Reese was right: aimlessly moving around with a knife millimeters from his skin would only get him hurt. He didn’t resist as he felt steel slide harmlessly against him, the layers of tape cut away and peeled off.

Before he could even think about running, Reese grabbed both his newly-freed hands and dragged him over to the pentagram. Jonah started struggling again, but there was little he could do against the iron grip.

Reese pointed to one of the triangles making up the pentagram. “You will kneel or I will make you kneel.”

He didn’t know what else to do, and pissing off his captor seemed like a recipe for disaster, so he knelt as indicated.

Reese bound one hand to Jonah’s body with more tape, bringing the other to a point of the pentagram. He pressed Jonah’s palm against the star’s tip, stepping firmly against his wrist to hold it there.

“Now, stay nice and still.”

Reese picked up the hammer and one of the nails.

“What are you doing?!” Jonah tried to pull his hand away, but Reese just pressed his boot down harder.

“What I said. Just making sure you stay still.” Reese positioned the nail in the center of Jonah’s hand, the sharp tip pricking at his skin. Jonah’s breath grew rapid in anticipation of what was about to happen to him.

“Wait, don’t, don’t don’t no no no-!”

Pain exploded in his hand as the THWACK of the hammer hit the nail and pierced his skin, and Jonah finally screamed. He tried again to pull his hand away, to pull his whole body away, but it was useless. He was trapped.

“Stop! Stop stop stop, you’re crazy!” he cried, tears spilling over and running down his face. The nail settled on the floor’s surface, just barely poking through the tender skin of his palm from the inside, making its way through muscle and ligaments and tendons.

“You can think what you like. Doesn’t matter to me,” Reese commented nonchalantly.

The hammer came down again. Jonah’s second scream was less intense than the first, as if his voice itself were scared, breaking off into a sob. A few more taps left the nail buried snugly in the floor, the head resting against the back of his hand as a bit of blood escaped from under it.

Jonah panted hard, adrenaline coursing through him. His hand wouldn’t move from where it sat fastened to the pentagram even after Reese removed his boot from his wrist: even twitching his fingers sent a horrible jolt through it.

“Good job, you’re doing very well.” Reese praised, patting Jonah on the head. “And now, the other one.”

“NO!” Jonah cried. “Stop! You have to stop!”

“Shh, it’s okay.” The sheer calm Reese talked about it with sent shivers down his spine. “It’ll all be over soon.”

Reese freed his uninjured hand, and Jonah clutched it protectively to his chest, shaking. “Leave me alone,” he begged tearily.

His captor grabbed his hand and brought it to the opposite point of the pentagram, stretching him out painfully and forcing his head and chest to the ground. Much to his dismay, Reese stepped down on his other wrist and readied the hammer and nails again.

Jonah strained his neck to look up at Reese, desperate. “What do you want? I’ll quit, okay? I’ll stop running Arnett’s campaign, you’ll never see me again. Just stop.”

“Oh, Jonah. Like I said, I needed someone. It just happened to be you.” Reese started on the other hand. No matter how much he screamed, it wouldn’t stop. Unlike the first nail, which seemed to slip in between his bones, this one landed right on top of the small, delicate bones inside his hand and smashed through them uncaring, the pain blinding.

Jonah was a mess by this point, sobbing into the floor. “I don’t wanna die like this,” he sniffled.

Reese cupped his face. “Look at it this way. You’re dying for something bigger than yourself. More powerful. Now, I think that’s about enough complaining out of you.”

The grip on his face grew tighter and tighter, fingers pressing tightly into the sides of his jaw, until Jonah was forced to open his mouth. Reese grabbed his tongue and pulled it, touching it to the center of the pentagram. Even among the throbbing pain in his hands and the horrifying situation, Jonah’s face crinkled in disgust.

Reese grabbed another nail.

Jonah’s disgust was immediately forgotten, replaced by overwhelming terror. He tried fruitlessly to shake his head away, making what little terrified noises of protest he could manage, as Reese settled the tip of the nail against his tongue.

A whine of fear escaped him, and he looked up at his captor pleadingly. Please don’t do this.

“Just try to relax,” Reese advised, as if it was at all possible.

The hammer slammed against the head of the nail, sending it straight through Jonah’s tongue and into the floor. Jonah wailed with intolerable pain, hot tears slipping down his cheeks, no longer able to form pleas. All he could taste was his own fresh blood, running over Reese’s painted on the floor.

Reese gave it a few more firm taps until the head of the nail almost crushed Jonah’s tongue under it, undeterred by Jonah’s cries.

“There we go.” Reese disappeared from Jonah’s tear-blurry line of sight. A moment later, he felt the side of the knife against the back of his neck. He squealed in distress, unable to even thrash against his bonds anymore.

But the knife didn’t plunge into him. Instead, it glided downward to the sound of tearing fabric until Jonah’s shirt fell limply in front of him. Reese ran a hand over his exposed back, Jonah’s tense muscles shuddering under the touch.

“This is the final step.” Jonah jolted as best he could in his immobilized state as he felt the tip of the knife between his shoulderblades- not digging in yet, but threatening to.

“Nghh!” Jonah couldn’t say much else with his tongue nailed down. He couldn’t even shake his head. Nothing he could do to indicate NO would be enough here, anyway. Reese didn’t care for his opinion.

He screamed as the knife buried itself in flesh, not deep enough to touch bone, but far from shallow. It glided along his back in a sweeping stroke, before Reese lifted it and picked a new spot to carve into him, no matter how much he cried and tried to writhe away from the sharp, insistent pain.

Slice after bold, swirling slice, Reese painted a pattern in the splitting of his skin, spending the most time on an intricate design between his shoulder blades. Jonah was pretty sure it was supposed to be an eye, but he was too hazy with agony and blood loss to tell.

Finally, Reese pulled the knife away from his mangled back. “There, all done. Soon you won’t even feel it.”

Jonah could only sob in response, trembling from pain and fear. Everything hurt. His entire body felt like it had been through a paper shredder. He could feel the blood running off the sides of his back and pooling beneath his folded-up legs, soaking his knees.

He watched as Reese lit candles in a circle around him, painting the room in a warm glow, and began chanting in a language Jonah couldn’t understand- Latin, maybe? What a pointless thing to die for. What would happen to him when none of this worked and no demon showed up? Would Reese concede and let him go? Probably not. Jonah imagined the knife plunging into his chest, the last thing he ever saw the face of his murderer. At least the pain would stop.

Slowly, as Reese chanted, The sigil carved into Jonah’s back began to burn.

Just a little at first, but getting hotter and hotter until Jonah was writhing in pain, trying to free his hands despite the nails holding them in place and hurting worse and worse the more he tugged on them. What was happening to him? It felt like someone had run boiling oil through the gashes in his skin. It was unbearable. He needed it to stop. Jonah squeezed his eyes closed, releasing a sound akin to a dying animal at the excruciating pain.

When he opened his eyes… a figure stood in front of him, half-materialized, like it was creating itself out of thin air. The warm orange glow of the candles began to shift to a cold, too-bright violet.

He strained his eyes up to see, the angle much less than ideal with his tongue bolted to the floor. He wasn’t sure if that was the reason they looked so massive, or if they really were abnormally tall, but a glance at Reese for comparison proved it to be the latter.

Everything about them looked unnatural, all bright colors that might mark a plant or animal as toxic, screaming at his nailed-down body to run. Glowing fuschia markings slithered all over their skin, the pattern looking suspiciously like the one Jonah could feel carved into his back. A giant scorpion-like tail snaked out from behind them.

Jonah stared up at the- the demon, apparently. As their form became more solid, Jonah’s back burned less and less, the only thing he could possibly be thankful for in this moment.

The demon eyed him back threefold, an impossibly-wide grin full of sharp teeth splitting their six-eyed face. Jonah couldn’t help but whimper under their gaze.

“Izuloth!” Reese shouted, suddenly seeming so much less intimidating compared to the monstrosity before him.

Izuloth broke eye contact to direct their attention to him, their smile faltering and their eyebrow twitching with annoyance. Several of their eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I’ve summoned you! I’ve captured a sacrifice, carved your sigil, drawn this pentagram in my own blood. You will now grant me power, as promised,” Reese declared confidently.

The smile returned. “Awfully presumptuous, human. I don’t remember promising anything.”

“What- what are you talking about?” Reese sputtered. “That’s what it said in the book! You are now under my control!”

Izuloth smirked. “Oh, is that what it said. That was nice of them to put in there. Makes fools like you much more likely to summon me. Hm, I don’t think I care for your attitude, though.”

They snapped their fingers.

Jonah watched in horror as Reese’s body began to unravel in front of him. Skin peeled from muscle, exposing raw, bloody flesh and piling on the floor below in a wet heap that splashed Jonah’s face with blood- he could taste it on his outstretched tongue.

Reese tried to scream, but all that came out was a gurgle as his tongue joined the rest of his exposed muscles in shredding to bits, as if taken to on all sides, inside and out, with an invisible cheese grater. It was over within a minute: the remnants of his body collapsed to the floor, twitching with life for only a moment before going still.

Jonah was alone with Izuloth.

He whined in terror, too frozen to even try tugging at his restraints. If the demon could do that, it wouldn’t be any use anyway.

Izuloth, to his dismay, turned their attention back to him. “Now, where were we?”

They reached a hand down to pet his hair. Jonah squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body tensed up in anticipation.

Suddenly, Izuloth grabbed his hair and pulled. Jonah’s eyes flew right back open as his tongue ripped right out of the nail, bisecting it down the middle with an agonizing tear. His scream of pain cut short when Izuloth grabbed him by the frayed end of his tongue, their many-eyed face inches away.

“Pretty thing, I think I’ll keep you.”

ART BY AKIA WHUMP-QUEEN!!!

everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night

@whumpshaped

@pigeonwhumps

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

one-shots taglist:

@icyheart-and-friends

@kira-the-whump-enthisiast

@whuarri

@reborrowing

#whump #my writing #demon whumper #ritual sacrifice #begging #hand whump #mouth whump #impalement #creepy whumper #major character death #gore #guys in distress

96 notes · View notes

prairiefirewitch · 10 months

Text

Tit for Tat: Nontraditional Offerings

I have a personal rule when petitioning a deity or spirit or ancestor to help me accomplish a thing. The bigger the ask, the bigger the offering. Whatever we offer, it’s a sacrifice.

Of course I do the usual things; flowers, favored food, particular alcohols and beverages, tobacco, incense. All of these things may be welcomed, but I believe that when I’m petitioning a deity or spirit to do a bigger task or to guide me on deeper work, my offering shouldn’t be low effort if I expect them to work on my behalf. My assumption is that deities too get bored with sameness, and if I’m trying to get their attention, I need to offer something that will delight them or intrigue them.

That isn’t to say that small offerings aren’t effective, but if I’m petitioning Athena to help me see justice in a court case, for example, I want her to know I’m serious and that I’m willing to dig deep to have her on my side. I’m pulling out all stops to get her to help me, commensurate to my ability to provide offerings. In other words, if all I’m able to do is buy Athena a bunch of grocery store flowers, that’s enough because that’s the best I can do. But if I’m able take that further and grow and nurture a garden of flowers dedicated to her, I’m going to do that, because I want her to see me making an effort. I want her to know that this petition is important to me and I’m willing to work to get her help.

Big effort offerings don’t have to cost a lot of money and they don’t have to be ostentatious. We’re not talking about sacrificing babies and we’re not emptying our bank accounts. The amount of effort is the point here, and our willingness to go beyond the typical is what we’re aiming for. I think long term commitment is important too.

One of my favorite offerings to Hekate is a yearly donation to Coyote Project. 10% of every sale of my Coyote candles goes to them to help educate and impact legislation on coyote killing contests in the United States. Dogs are sacred to her and according to Apollonius of Rhodes, the barking of hounds signaled that she was near. Ovid tells us that black dogs were sacrificed to her, but I don’t offer animal sacrifices, and it feels appropriate to make offerings to her instead to protect this species of canine. I also make food donations to my local animal shelter monthly. A key aspect of these donations for me, is that I commit to ongoing support to the Coyote Project and my local shelter indefinitely rather than just once.

A few years ago someone asked me what an appropriate offering would be to Hera to help with some marital issues. Rather than offer the typical flowers and incense, I suggested they give up something. I suggested they give up cigarettes or alcohol or some other vice. It’s a unconventional offering, but it works two-fold: she’d be giving up something detrimental to her health and maybe to her relationship, and she’d also be treating her own body as an offering. In other words, her body becomes a temple to Hera.

Here are other offerings to consider that go beyond the wine, flowers, incense routine.

Commit to a fitness or health regime.

Volunteer in your community.

Prepare a dumb (silent) supper.

Learn a new skill and practice it in their honor.

Write a poem, play, or music as offering.

Spend time learning about them.

Prepare a ritual wine or mead and use it in your offerings.

Make art depicting them.

Sing songs or recite their hymns.

Make revelry and dance and laugh and howl at the moon.

Grow a garden of plants dedicated to your deity.

Give up something, i.e. soda, liquor, excess spending, red meat, unhealthy relationships.

Clean a local park or stream.

Commit to prayer or meditation everyday.

Dedicate a perfume or scent to them and wear it daily or during ritual.

Practice nature stewardship.

Make a pilgrimage to sacred sites.

Build a dedicated altar outside.

Ritually clean your altar space regularly.

Take a ritual bath and anoint yourself with perfumes and oils.

Donate time or money to charities.

This isn’t an exhaustive list; there are many other ways of honoring and petitioning deity. And offering doesn’t end at the stage where you’re asking for something; it’s just good manners to make an offering of thanks once the petition is granted.

#altar #offerings #hellenism #ritual sacrifice #witchcraft #traditional witchcraft

75 notes · View notes

holdmehurtme · 3 months

Text

repainted the lighting from this 🩷

#Amans Daemonia #Salvador #Clover #cloverart #yandere #male yandere #occult #blood #gore #guro #ritual sacrifice #my ocs

18 notes · View notes

whump-queen · 7 months

Text

~Power play~ a ritual gone horribly wrong

Finally! Here’s my art piece for @zineofgid ~ a collab with @whumpsday with ocs we made together <3 Mill wrote an amazing story to go with this piece: read it here!!

(tags: kidnapping, ritual sacrifice, impalement, demon whumper, mouth whump, knives/skin carving, major character death, gore)

You can still buy the guys in distress zine here ~ proceeds go to the charity RAINN. (heads up that while my piece is sfw, this is an 18+ zine and many other contributors' pieces are not)

[Tags below]

❈

General whump taglist: @whumpshaped @whumpsday @emmettnet @a-whump-sideblog @whump-it-like-its-hot @wolfeyedwitch @whumper-soot @unorganisedalienrubbish @hidden-dreamland @whumpedydump @lonesome--hunter @ashh-ed @whump-in-the-closet @oriantthegiant @banditosong @anonymustyou @feralwhump @jieunie-23 @whumpasaurus101 @morning-star-whump @whmp @captain-bo-bob-bobby @the-beasts-have-arrived @spooky-scary-vampires @burningkittypoet @veyroswin @painsandconfusion @skittles-the-whumpee

Art tag: @burntcoffeewhump

#gidzine #akias art #im SO EXCITED I can FINALLY POST THIS #whump art #power play #loved being a part of this project!#demon whumper #demon art #demon whump #ritual sacrifice #whump Zine #kidnapping #impalement #oc izuloth #oc Reese #oc jonah #mill #eeeEEE

51 notes · View notes

imhereformysciencefriends · 6 months

Text

@mcyt-yuri-week Day 7, Free day!

Niki/Lady Death for this one, read on AO3 here

MCD but that's like, the premise

Niki was drugged and drunk for it, at least. Hazed into a stupor where she really couldn’t feel anything but floaty, tangentially aware of the hooded and robed figures around her, the torchlight, her own vulnerability, but untouched by it. Like watching it happen to someone else, in third person. The chanting people sent prayers down to Death, and Niki was urged to lay out on a stone plinth. Her flesh prickled at its coldness, but that, too, she barely felt.

The knife they used was sharp. She barely even felt it.

A butterfly landed on the plinth next to her, beautiful blues and blacks and dark purples, and Niki swore she heard it laughing.

Acute awareness hit her like a minecart, but not any pain. In fact, as she glanced down at where the hole in her chest should be, she found herself dressed in her favorite sweater and overalls, no worse for wear. There was an almost… iridescence to her, though, fiery pinks and oranges and reds.

She was somewhere entirely unfamiliar, the clover and flowers beneath her feet all a uniform, night-sky blue. The sky itself was only just a shade darker, barely keeping off black. It stretched out for miles in each direction, the landscape unbroken save for the occasional tree which was also that midnight blue, leaves rustling in nonexistent wind.

The air was unnaturally still here.

Niki realized she wasn’t breathing.

Well, she had just died. It only made sense.

The horizon changed, a massive, black shape taking form so far away Niki at first didn’t see it. But then the form grew closer, and Niki recognized Her Ladyship.

Lady Death wore the wide brimmed hat and veil she was always depicted with, the high-necked dress and long sleeves, the lacey gloves. Much of what she wore was sheer or see-through fabric, providing a beautiful view to her ample bust, the soft curves of her thighs and calves, the warm roundness of her hands and arms.

The nonexistent wind blew her veil just barely open, and Niki caught a glimpse of the picked-clean bone of her skull. Lady Death was soft bodied and long haired and rounded only where her clothing covered her. To glimpse her true form was to see the skeleton only.

Her painted lips were round and soft and black. She smiled at Niki.

Niki hadn’t even realized she’d dropped to her knees.

“I don’t know why you silly humans keep sending me sacrifices,” Her Ladyship said, voice lilting and giggling faintly. “You all will come to me eventually. My power does not depend on your worship like lesser gods.”

Niki realized that this was a conversational beat where she was supposed to respond, but her empty mouth hung open and silent when she tried. Her thoughts themselves were void of words, much less her speech.

Death giggled.

“I do tend to have that effect on people.”

Niki blinked, and tried desperately to get herself to say something. Even something stupid that would embarrass her! Anything to make it seem like she wasn’t ignoring The Literal Goddess Of Death.

But Lady Death was patient (as a goddess of her nature would have to be, most certainly) and let Niki struggle through the mental block of bearing witness to divinity.

“Hi,” she managed, quite stupidly indeed, and Lady Death gave a full belly laugh, her cheeks scrunching up against her eyes and her hair shaking with the bellows.

“Hello, little Niki! It’s nice to finally meet you!”

“Nice to meet you,” she said, her voice very very small, very quiet. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the goddess who’d seated herself next to her, but she didn’t need to blink, so.

“How are you feeling?” Lady Death asked warmly. Niki felt the words in her… body(?) like a physical warmth.

“Shocked, I think.”

“That’s fair. Most people feel that way, even when they knew that this was coming.”

Niki felt a little better at that.

“It’s… an honor to meet you,” Niki tried, angling for polite.

Lady Death giggled again, cheeks warm with a subtle flush and lips curved mischievously. Niki felt a shiver strike through her, clean down her spine.

“The pleasure is all mine, little Niki,” the goddess said, and if Niki had a heart she was certain it would be suddenly pounding. Lady Death reached forward and cupped Niki’s face in two warm, soft hands, the lace of her gloves faintly ticklish against Niki’s now-sensitive skin. Her lips parted, but like before, she was too stunned to speak. Particularly as her Ladyship bent in, face close to Niki’s, the fluttering of her veil so close Niki felt phantoms of its touch against her nose.

“You are so lovely. You know, I’m really not supposed to do this, it isn’t fair to everyone else. But I have been known for being quite the rulebreaker, when it comes to my favorites.”

“Your—” Niki stuttered, now flushed full red. Favorite? But Niki had only just now died, and they’d only just met?

As though reading her thoughts, Lady Death continued, “It’s alright, sweet little thing. You’ll have plenty of time to get to know me later, once you’re all done.”

All done? And what was this about breaking rules, too!?

“Um, Lady Goddess…” Niki started, but the proximity of their faces once again had her at something of a loss for words. “What do you, what do you mean?” she asked, hoping the question wasn’t so vague that she couldn’t answer it.

Lady Death giggled again, then reached one hand up to touch her veil. She parted it—just barely—and Niki would’ve gasped if she’d had any breath, when she leaned all the way in and kissed her. It was the touch of gleaming white teeth to breathless lips, and for only a fleeting moment also, but to Niki it was a kiss more intimate than any she’d ever received in life.

Then Lady Death was pulling back and giggling at her again, catlike and smug, her veil replaced so Niki saw soft flesh and round, plush lips.

“I mean you’re not to be mine—just yet. Not in full, little Niki. Though I do hope you’ll remember this, won’t you sweetheart?”

Niki wasn’t sure she could ever forget, but before she could answer, or ask any more of her thousand questions she sat so blankly on, the goddess was fading from her view, and so was the dark blue place. And so was her consciousness. And her existence altogether.

She gasped awake, hands folded neatly over her belly, in the middle of a flower field, dappled sunlight barely making it through the leaves of the tree she “slept” under.

Niki sat up slowly, examining herself. She was breathing. Her heart pulsed in her chest. She was no longer in that in-between place. The fiery pinks and oranges that hazed around her were gone.

Had it all been—no, it couldn’t have. She yanked down the neckline of her dress and found a massive scar where they’d cut out her heart, and fingers pressed to the tissue reassured her once again that her heart was beating there.

What had happened? Why was she alive? She had passed into the domain of the Goddess of Death, the eternal garden from which no soul was ever meant to return. How was she back here, in the domain of the living?

She raised her fingertips from her heart to her lips. She could not feel the cool press of bone against them, but in her memory, she was able to summon the phantom of it. The sensation of kissing Lady Death.

Niki’s freshly forged heart skipped a beat.

#mcytyuriweek2023 #Niki Nihachu #Lady Death #Goddess of Death #mcyt #dream smp #DSMP #mcyt yuri week #deathniki #nikideath #my writing #haro writes #ritual sacrifice #human sacrifice #major character undeath #temporary character death

16 notes · View notes

cosmic-muses · 6 months

Text

If y'all make ritual sacrifice or tribute to me I'll bless y'all with inspiration and good ideas, just sayin'

#nova posting #muses #creative stuff #ritual sacrifice #idk what are you looking at the tags for?#I'm not funny enough to hide jokes here #maybe say greek myth?#yeah sure #greek myth #museposting lmao

14 notes · View notes

leaderlamby · 8 months

Text

Daily Sermon #34

Romantic relationships are something everyone thinks about at some point. A lot of people feel pressured to get into relationships because, for some reason, they make you "cool" in primary and middle school.

I cannot stress this enough, do not force yourself to get into a romantic relationship. It will not end well and you'll feel worse than you did before.

I really would not recommend dating anyone, out of pressure or otherwise, at a young age (like from 10-15, whenever you start to consider relationships "serious").

Your mind is not developed by this point and you and your partner will absolutely make stupid decisions that ruin the relationship.

At that age, you might hear this and think, "well, that won't happen to me. I'm smart enough and I'm genuinely in love with this person."

That's what I thought and got into a lot of relationships.

Now I have trust issues and relationship anxiety.

In a romantic relationship at that age, you more than likely will:

- Be cheated on

- Be emotionally manipulated

- Be taken advantage of

- Be emotionally/mentally abused (maybe physically too)

- Be lied to in general

And it really hurts. You might think, "my partner is an absolute angel who loves me! That would never happen!"

And if that's true, perfect, congratulations. But in young relationships, you really should be cautious (not paranoid) about it. There are people who have been married for 10+ years and never saw themselves cheating, who have cheated on their spouse. It can happen to anyone. Please be careful.

And PLEASE have some self respect.

In the early stages of a relationship (the "honeymoon phase"), it's very easy to put your partner on a pedestal and see them as so much better than you.

Don't.

If they start taking advantage of you or abusing you in any way, you'll force yourself to look past it because you got so attached to them.

This isn't victim blaming, it's hardly ever your fault when these things happen and it's very hard to break it off when they do, let alone see it as a problem.

All I'm asking is for you to try and see that you don't deserve to be treated like that. Try to be strong and end things when you start seeing red flags.

I know it's easier said than done, I know it is, just make sure you're talking to a trusted person about this stuff. Having an outside view on your relationship can REALLY put things in perspective.

Just be careful out there. Relationships can be so beautiful, but they're so hard and can be so draining.

Ritual of the Day:

Sacrifice of the Flesh

"Sacrifice a follower to grow stronger and gain new abilities and weapons. Higher level followers will be more valuable when sacrificed. -10 Faith."

Who are we sacrificing? All your toxic exes 😤

#cotl #cult of the lamb #cotl lamb #cult leader #sermon #ritual #sacrifice of the flesh #ritual sacrifice #if you're aromantic and know you don't want a romantic relationship ignore this ig

10 notes · View notes

ask-the-clergy-bc · 2 months

Note

I've read a few stories about murder ghouls and wanted to know if you could do murder ghouls with a cannibal sibling or is it too much to ask?

I’m actually an avid horror fan, so this is perfectly fine! :) As long as it meets my rule guidelines I’m always happy to have horror and darker clergy themes! It gives me a chance to go Opus in my writing!

Just always check out my trigger tags! I try to do very detailed ones in the tags and on the piece!

I wasn’t exactly sure what you meant by murder ghouls, so I think this is finally time to debut Miasma in my writing! (Aka the Clergy Syringe Ghoul from the chapters!)

Inspired by ‘Ritual’ in our Beloved First Psalm

GN Reader

Cannibal Reader

Unbeta’d and Proud

Trigger warnings: mentions of blood/gore, cannibalism, ritual sacrifice, demon/ghoul feeding, mentions of assassinations, murder, blood drinking

The Assassin and The Child Of Beelzebub

Gore under Cut!! Mature Readers Only!

While the clergy does not consider itself evil in the way the world might know it, it is self aware enough to know taboo practices are frowned upon. There are truly very few pleasures and curiosities that aren’t indulged within the walls of the ministry. Consent and the protection of children being the two pillars of morality. But much darker hungers are always indulged.

The Morningstar Bloodline, or the revered Emeritus, would be hypocritical if they didn’t embrace the shunned practices of the world of men. Even if it’s kept guarded, every Papa is of demon blood. Luxury food is filling but no substitute to Mortal flesh and blood. And ghouls are no men, but Hell beasts who have their own hungers.

It’s common practice to feed traitors, angels, and sacrificed outsiders to hungry ghouls. And the Emeritus have fine dinners out of those who betrayed them deeply. So of course they would protect you when you couldn’t help yourself anymore.

Luckily the discovery of your dark need came during your chance to impress Papa I. You were one of the few siblings who willingly and passionately begged for a chance at ritual sacrifice- one of the most honored and sacred practices to the dark one. After some consideration you were granted the privilege. It was a messy yet enlightening affair. You were so frenzied by the energy of the Dark One flowing through you you bit the throat out of a screaming traitor. Papa I had been particularly pleased watching you consume the blasphemous wretch until you were sick.

Actually, after that display, you became quite the useful asset to the higher ministry. At first as an avid ritual practitioner, and then as a high sibling in your own right. Papa I called you a shining example of “Beelzian Devotion”. You took your patron of the lord of flies and hunger seriously.

Granted, you DID have rules. You couldn’t go around just slaughtering whoever you felt like! Especially your fellow siblings! No. Your lead worship of Beelzebub came with strict guidelines under Papa I. You were happy with that. It wasn’t often but those who were stupid enough to betrayed the bloodline found themselves on your alter. Your belly was always full in that regard.

This is how you eventually met Miasma. Head assassin and a quintessence ghoul of mysterious origins. Originally the ghoul had been a healer during the great plagues. But eventually medicine became poison. And poison could be much more useful when you were instead ailed with enemies.

The ghoul had been responsible for the dispatching of many pests. But sometimes he was instructed to send some to you. Beelzebub was always as hungry as you were, and it was in everyone’s best interest to keep his favor. So he would deliver, informing you of which traitors weren’t laced with something deadly.

Soon it was an unlikely friendship. You saw him more than most people… and most didn’t even know he existed. And he found you quite delightful when you weren’t writhing in religious fervor.

You watched amused as he laid a limp figure on the marble of your alter.

“I can’t use dead ones.” You teased, watching the shallow breathing.

“Mild sedative. You won’t feel it once it’s cycled out of his system.”

“Oh, how kind!”

“I live to serve.”

You nodded as you gathered your chalice and athame- eager to use them sooner.

“Miasma, you hungry?”

The ghoul laughed and eyed the plump flesh of your future sacrifice.

“I could eat.”