#teefics

The papacy, of course. I think Terzo had always been more or less aware of what the role of Papa would technically ask of him, but he probably also hoped to take one more of a companion-guide role than a cult leader one. People were supposed to distinguish good and bad on their own.

I don't know what exact events might have caused him to become so disillusioned. Was it the realisation that many people don't want to make the effort of bettering themselves and fighting for their own greatness? Or that organised religions tend to abuse the trust of their flock and use it for their own gain? We don't know. But I think that experiencing the behind-the-scenes of how organised religions operate + what the Clergy expected of him probably played a major role in that change.

Going from “The Pinnacle to the Pit” is not the punishment it was meant to be. It is freedom to struggle against injustice, to march with crowns and sceptres. Here in the pit, we are all royalty now. Papa Emeritus III is not here to lead. His journey is your own. “Majesty” is not the state that only belongs to him. He is merely the mask, the path into the fire where he has already been.

The introduction to Meliora itself states plainly: it is no longer a mission of leading people to Satan (we see you, Peepaw Primo), but an attempt to nudge them towards their own self-discovery and, through it, freedom, despite the rot and challenges of the world. At least that's what I think Terzo would have wanted.

So the original vision of Meliora-the-city-of-those-who-reach-for-greatness remains in fragments, but is no longer so individualistic. "We are all royalty now". I think "THE LIGHT BELONGS TO THE PEOPLE" is one of the most empowering quotes Ghost has given us (and it's a shame that it seems to be barely known?), and it's the very thing that made me realise, "Holy shit, Terzo's an actual socialist". [ Great post thread on that + what the vision/concept of Meliora as a place might have evolved into, by the way. ]

I don't know if pre-papacy Terzo had ever believed in Lucifer or the Devil as an authentic, supernatural entity—but we do know that Papa Terzo (bitterly) recognised humanity's only true god to be money (ref. the previously linked post). And we do know that he was deeply aware of all types of corruption, especially political and religious.

But he never actually grew resentful of the people (the flock) themselves. Instead, his entire papacy ended up being about encouraging them to survive difficulties, to push through the unfairness of the world as equals, all the while dealing with one's individual struggles. But no longer with some singular solution for everyone, or a world where only the most ambitious and determined individuals win.

Like I've mentioned in the last screenshot, I think becoming the face of the Clergy had forced Terzo to realise that there was only so much one person—no matter how clever, or assertive, or driven—could do or change once faced with entire systems and organisations.

But if the Light belongs to the People, then the solution is to shield and carry and use it as a community.

At least that's how I see it.

𝖙𝖆𝖌 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @necropolitus ⛧ @genuinezenith ⛧ @sakuraspoke ⛧ @1800villageidiot ⛧ @genxgigi

𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔬𝔫

V's eye didn't need to bear the silver mark for those around him to consider him an odd child from the very beginning. He would hear things sometimes—neither human whispers nor clear voices; strange hums in tones and language V could never pinpoint, yet understood in fragments he would forget not long after. They would slip from his memory like remnants of some fading yet complex dream, leaving V with little more than a feeling of strange absence in the place of clarity.

On other ocassions, he would sense the presence of something, even in empty rooms, as if it called to something in him, beckoning him closer.

None of these things would happen regularly to properly disturb the rhythm of his life, but they took plac often enough that he'd started to notice.

The first few times he brought it up to the sisters who ran the orphanage, with all the trust of a small child who hadn't yet learned how to fully suppress questions and fear. Naturally, the nuns brushed it off as typical make-believe. But the more the pattern persisted, the less it made sense to keep blaming V's overactive imagination, and soon the culprits ranged from the boy's bad dreams overstaying their welcome, to straight-up demonic possession.

That quickly taught him to keep quiet and try to resolve the matter himself. He would find himself internalising the adults' feedback; It's just your brain acting up. This is what you get from reading so many books, from asking so many questions. La curiosità è figlia del peccato.

He would try to pray it all away or (briefly) convince himself that perhaps those were some kind saints or guardian angels leaving him little signs—but that assumption felt arrogant, too dangerous to make. So he just let the signs pass—let them happen, let them disturb him sometimes, and then let them fade into monotony. It's not like they happened everyday, after all. It's just that some days proved more challenging than others.

Perhaps everyone experienced something of that sort at least a few times in their life, he tried to tell himself, and they simply felt too ashamed to tell anyone. Or perhaps he was cursed. Perhaps he really was imagining things. Or perhaps those were all symptoms of his soul's unrest and the need for holy healing. Or nothing, or nonsense.

He ended up traversing his previous life more or less accustomed to that weirdness. It never genuinely interrupted anything of importance anyway; it merely remained, the way some currents may be temporarily halted, yet refuse to properly shift.

𝔭𝔬𝔰𝔱-𝔲𝔫𝔟𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔪

Imagine V's surprise upon discovering a religion, an entire community, that doesn't negate or simply acknowledge those odd traits of his, but openly celebrates them. Considers them blessings, signs of favour.

He begins to learn how to tune into them, or how to tune them out on occassion, but this time without the harshness of his younger years. And after his unbaptism, after having his soul torn open anew and letting the black light in… the signs amplify. Mutate. Unspool. They seep in bit by bit, extremely subtle until they're too apparent to ignore—and yet, they always feel like they were meant to take place. Like nothing has been added nor taken away, only illuminated.

The subtler ones are usually fairly easy to disregard, or even just miss—unless you're around him often enough and pay close attention: his skin being two or three degrees colder than most humans' (very useful during heatwaves...); his silver eye not only reflecting light but seemingly glowing with one ot its own; shadows moving and bending oddly in his proximity.

Corvids are oddly aware of his presence. It's something people only realise after having spent more time around him. Sometimes there's a crow or two perched nearby, just staring. Every now and then, they may bring him little trinkets: tiny bones, weirdly shaped beads that could be rocks or disassembled jewellery or merely glass shards smoothed out by time and rain.

Other changes V experiences more deeply just because they happen within his body rather than around it.

For example, one day someone notices that his pulse feels… delayed. It beats just a moment slower than expected, or may sometimes be felt in the wrong place (temple, wrist, but faint and misaligned).

Also, his wounds don’t bleed at first; there's a strange pause, followed by a slow oozing, as if his vessel's reluctant. Afterwards his skin might knit oddly, cleanly but without the sense of urgency.

I think the best way to summarise how I want to write "creature" V is uncanny valley? Hardly any of that is intentional and honestly the first few times the "bigger" changes happen the poor man is genuinely unsettled.

They, to quote my dear friend, "make his adjustment to the Church twice as complicated—he's not just adjusting to a new belief system, environment, and people. He's also adjusting to a new way of being him. Of how his body works, how he interacts with the world."

Imagine accidentally nicking someone mid-kiss because suddenly your fangs have grown. What if they don't always retreat back to normal right away? What if at one point they just stop mid-transformation and stay that way, and now you're stuck with your teeth forever suspended between human and something else entirely—

On that note, I don't think V needs blood, but he may want to drink it. Whether because he's not fully human or just because he's a sicko is completely up to you.

I think his choice of costumes is a blend of living finally out his gothic diva dream and also embracing those non-human aspects of himself, even if he doesn't necessarily have all the features we've seen in the photoshoots, such as an actual tail or wings. Probably.

His claws do make an appearance every now and then! They're just a rarer instance than the literal demon teeth + not something he can control particularly well yet. They're also shorter than what we've seen in the promo pics, though their length varies.

That's the thing: V's most noticeable physical creatre-shifts aren't consistent and are mostly temporary. Unlike a typical werewolf or kelpie transformation, there is no specific set of features that appear every single time a change takes place, because the process itself is not as much about shapeshifting as it is about the human body bending the rules of how it should function, in order to make space for something else.

Anyway, he purrs sometimes. It doesn't sounds exactly like a cat's purr, but it's not too dissimilar either. Have you ever heard a bat purr? Yeah, it's a little like that. Predictably, it happens when he feels safe and content, away from strangers' ears or eyes. It's also easier for him to get under wraps compared to some of the other changes, so if he notices his partner finds the sound soothing or pleasant, he may bring it out/emphasize it to some degree.

Another sound he sometimes makes: chittering. Clicking. It tends to veer into insectile or resemble the whisper of a rattlesnake's tail, and thus can be rather disturbing. It's also pretty much beyond V's control, especially since it happens in much different settings than the purrs. The circumstances primarily involve layered overwhelm of some sort (be it physical, emotional or spiritual) + more often than not appear alongside claws, oddly shifting eyes, various distortions: splintered voice, bones bendt at unnatural angles; breath turning freezing like a gust of catacomb air; shadows pooling along his skin in a way that's just not right.

He fixates in that state sometimes. Might not fully realise what's happening. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's best for the right person to be nearby until it passes.

𝖙𝖆𝖌 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @necropolitus ⛧ @genuinezenith ⛧ @sakuraspoke ⛧ @1800villageidiot ⛧ @genxgigi

Many of his texts read like pocket-sized letters: careful, capitalised, deliberate in their word choice. Sometimes they're from the venues, pre- or post-ritual.

The Nameless tried harmonising during soundcheck. It was awful. I think they’re trying to mock me. I’ll send a clip when I stop wincing.

or:

Tonight they screamed louder than ever before. Made me believe I might be destined after all. I kept looking for your eyes in the crowd like a fool.

Other times, he focuses on whatever surrounding they’re currently haunting.

The moon was red at the edges tonight. I thought you might have liked it. I tried to take a picture but it didn’t do it justice.

or:

Oslo’s cold. I keep thinking about the warmth of your hands. You’d hate the way the wind chews at the collar.

To some of them, he attaches photos from wherever they’re playing next: a stray cat curled under a church step in Łódź; the way a canal bends in Amsterdam, golden with early morning; the smudged interior of a backstage mirror in Tampa.

Each image is picked carefully, like he’s gathering the world bit by bit just to give it all to you later, pressed into text like a collage.

But — and as we know, there is always a good but there — there are also the other ones. Curled into lowercase, either due to stage rush or just his own impulsivity. Or mischief.

my hotel room smells like your perfume. can’t tell if i imagined it or you’ve hexed me. might have to steal something of yours next time.

or

should have argued with them to let me bring you along.

They’re sly, improvised, too fast to have been rehearsed but too precise to deem careless. Perhaps typed mid-step, mid-meal, or right before curtain call.

And the deadliest ones are those that end with <3. Like the silly glyph is meant to veil the filth it punctuates.

wish you’d been backstage tonight. low lighting. too many corners. would’ve kept you quiet. <3

or:

the nameless say hi. i say: if you’d been here tonight you’d be dripping with it right now. i wouldn’t even let you clean up.

And then, thirty seconds later:

<3

Gods below preserve you if you manage to attend one of the rituals (and who are we kidding — he would arrange that himself). Have fun walking the next day. Have fun not getting distracted.

And if you miraculously manage to do so, the little <3-ended missive of doom is still going to hunt you down — ruin your peace. Eventually.

you’re still thinking about it, aren’t you. <3 if you come to me next week i’ll make it worse. or better. depending on whether you like crawling out of dressing rooms again. <3

or:

still remember the sound you made when you came with your mouth full of me. sweetest chorus i’ve ever heard. play it back in my head like an encore. <3

They come at odd hours and always manage to catch you off-guard. You never quite know which version of Perpetua you’ll be getting— the composed one, with velvet syllables and properly punctuated fondness, or the one that sends you wild little messages that grin and bite like fae, only to semi-apologise by handing you that makeshift heart at the end.

He doesn’t really send photos of himself, though his ghouls might (usually blurry ones, taken suddenly, or with his reflections caught in some surfaces). He doesn’t mind, he just doesn't fully understand the appeal of selfies. He thinks there are enough official photos of him out there anyway.

He might bug you for photos of yourself, though. Nothing indecent — he just misses your face.

Still, you may bring up the unfairness of this arrangement. Most of the times, he’ll probably brush it off or have to disappear before forming a proper response.

But... one of these days, when you are, of course, focused on something else and immersed in your duties, mind busy with anything but touring antipopes for once—

Your phone lights up. You unlock it and open his messages.

The preamble makes you raise your brows:

Well, beloved. You may win this once. I’m feeling generous today.

The photos that follow make your eyes widen and your face burn.

And, right after, as if he hasn’t done enough damage:

Some countries have no archdiocese. Instead, they house a handful of dioceses, or simply just one. In that case, the dioceses are not part of any larger provinces and report directly to the Unholy See, rather than to a metropolitan archbishop [reference/explanation of how that could work].

In certain regions, such as the Bible Belt, it's not unusual for local members of the UCoG to form village-/town-communes, self-sufficient and providing a bit of a cultural bubble for local Satanists to be able to (more or less) safely function in. That does, however, make it easier for the Ministry to indoctrinate these communities, providing them with their own radio stations and newspapers (crediting @textsfromhannibal for this idea because the portrayal of a multigenerational conservative Satanic family in one of her fics has sparked Many Thoughts In My Brain <33).

different approaches, inner conflicts, heresies

The Church's diversity means that some of its branches don't have much in common — besides general devil-worship, clerical hierarchy, universal rites and laws. This tends to result in religious discourse, infighting, forming of opposing political circles and schools of thought.

It's not unusual for some or the more charismatic/recognisable leaders to gain in popularity, their interpretations of the catechism attracting their own followers.

There have been multiple attempts at fracturing in the past. Sects being banished or splitting off on their own; self-declared prophets disavowing papal authority; rogue bishops openly challenging the Ministry's decisions, etc.

It's the duty of the main branch and Papa's closest circle to deal with these problems, recognising genuine blessings from the Pit in contrast with manmade delusions. It's still part of the political play, partly, but at the same the Ministry does have some genuine prophets/Satan's mouthpieces (canon as far as we're concerned — Sister Imperator has been mentioned multiple times to have visions and be able to directly communicate with the devil).

As is the case with any major religious organisation, the UCoG laws and regulations remain ever-changing to make managing the branches easier and to ensure that they function more or less in sync with one another.

common vs local characteristics

Some of the shared aspects of the Ministry (enforced globally) include: major holidays/celebrations, sacraments, the traditional cardinal make-up, basic mass formula, consistent clerical hierarchy, the expectation for all clergy to have at least a basic grasp on ecclesiastical Latin (as you can imagine the fluency levels differ depending on rank), some common phrasing (usually in Latin and used amidst the clergy).

The colours attributed to each clergy group remain largely consistent, though the Ministry is not against giving the uniform a personal spin (within reason), so for example the way the mozzetta of a Romanian bishop is decorated will probably differ from that of a Mexican bishop.

Other differences that are permitted include: regional rites and local observances that have been given the Infernal See's official approval + local symbols that don't directly mirror the "traditional" Satanic ones (example: the Milanese branch doesn’t just have a serpent for its patron, but the city's own biscione instead).

general church politics/some loose ideas

The Church's visibility in a given region is largely dependent on local culture and political scene, hence why many branches operate from behind a façade.

Some of the abbeys, regular churches and episcopal sees are located in regular religious buildings, more often deserted and refurbished by the Ministry rather than built from scratch — but many have made their home in abandoned and repurposed townhouses, hotels, libraries, cinemas, operas and school buildings.

For example: in the wonderful fic by @anamelessfool, the Cracovian Diocese is registered as a hotel in order to evade the local government's restrictions (I love that idea and will yap about it at any given opportunity).

In my own fic, Campania doesn’t even have its own diocese because of how much of a hold Catholicism has had on the region's cultural identity. Despite many previous attempts, something would always get in the way of the Ministry establishing a more solid presence in the region, and so instead of having its own branch, Campania (along with Abruzzo and Molise) has to answer to Lazio/the Roman branch.

There are conservative factions within the Ghurch. It is what it is. (You'd be surprised how regressive many famous roots of modern day Satanism are!)

For the cult's own safety, it takes a little more than just signing up at your local convent/abbey/diocese in order to join the clergy. Depending on the branch, you may even have to sign a non-disclosure agreement.

WOMEN AND AFAB PEOPLE ARE ABSOLUTELY PERMITTED TO PURSUE PRIESTHOOD. In theory. In practice, not every branch is equally enthusiastic about it, lol.

yes, he had to change parishes at least twice after getting accused of being possessed or directly related to the devil. not as much of a stretch as he thought back then.

has had a fascination with reliquaries since childhood. didn't fully understand how they could be sacred or definitely contain that specific long-dead saint's bones for real, no lie, though.

has a strained relationship with "nearer my god to thee". no notes here, it is what it is.

and a strained relationship with his body, still. all those "eldritch" additions and character creation he can do as papa now has probably been of some help. easier to reclaim one's vessel through comparison to demons (if all your life you've been accused of being one) than martyrs.

still gets that uncomfortable itch to kneel in front of the altar if he happens to visit a church. it's not a personal struggle, it's resisting a trained response. he'll get better at it as time goes on.