#oh the loss of humanity and the ascension of godhood

[thefearfulheart]

Small bit of expansion on the Clownbo timeloop au

Evbo eventually starts to find a strange comfort in the consistency of Clown’s rage at him and while everything always stays the same each time he resets…Clown always is the one person that can always surprise him in the end, something that changes things while everything else stays the same. Someone that Evbo can’t predict in the end and it’s so comforting to him ever since he began looping everything around, trying to change a preset narrative in his own crusade to win against fate and time.

There are times when he thinks about even letting Clown win.

But he enjoys the fact, an insidious thing that clings to his heart, that Clown will always lose to him and it’s…pleasing to see how enraged he gets at every loss, at every almost win that inertly ends with him feeling the pain of death and being forced to look at the man who turned into a god in his final moments. It’s something so consistent about him.

It’s such a comforting thing that Evbo lets Clown freely attack him when they see each other, feels the pain of his fists and can’t help but breath as the pain hits him. How his blood, once crimson now a thick black sludge, stains the other’s hands as he tries to kill him…and he just smiles at him since they both know he won’t die.

And clown is just shaking and breathing so heavily as he straddles him.

And Evbo in such the calmest way possible over the bloodshed…

Drags clown for a hug.

Something so tight and painful that it makes clown heave in pain and fight to get out of it, thrashes in his arms like an angry wolf. Clawing and biting until he exhausts himself.

[theaveragepsychoticbitch]

Breakup smut pt 1 🫶🏾🥲

Poseidon x Fem Reader || NSFW || Warnings: body worship (hopefully lol), evil princess esque reader, but really youre just traumtized lol, repeated mentions of human sacrifice and the like, porn interlaced with plot, and kind of established relationship? Idk bro I obviously know nothing of relationships 🫠💔

A/N: I may have outdone myself

Your body is a temple, and Poseidon, the greatest of your devotees.

You are quite used to being worshipped. Back in the human world, your skin was kissed by peasants for good luck, and a strand of your hair was said to bring wealth upon families for generations. There was no shortage of adoration, for you were the blessed child, the one born to bare the gods' wrath like fine silks.

A very long and tedious way to say you were raised to be the human sacrifice, but you can't deny that it sounds better.

When the knife was raised, you knew at once you would not die. And when it lowered, you found yourself unsurprised that your skin stood strong as steel. The gods' wrath was not something that could be bested by mortal weaponry, it'd seem.

The resulting flash from impact left much of the happenings after as naught but a blur; how you got to Valhalla, and what happened to the villagers.

But it wasn't important to you anymore. You were no longer a scapegoat people could simply pin their fates on, a body to be slaughtered so others may live. Now, you were a true God, and the way the haughtiest of them all was gazing at you from his place at your feet proved it.

Eyes as cold and blue as a glacier were clouded with something akin to delusion. Obsession, perhaps. The way he couldn't keep his hands off you yet fought to follow your every order certainly lined up with such a trait.

As big a man as he is, even on his knees he'd dwarf you easily. Which is why you sat on a big throne- his throne, in fact. You find the sapphires and white gold compliment you quite nicely.

"May I taste you again?"

It made your head spin, the power you had in your lap. Your ascension to Godhood was accompanied by no powers; no super strength, no mental magic. All you had was your tongue, your body and your face. And with that alone, you've defeated one amongst the greatest of foes.

Your eyes are lowered to mere slits, a cocky sort of mischief darkening your irises and contorting your face.

"Do you truly believe you deserve a second taste?" The words slide off your tongue far too easily. If only you'd known the many ways you could use your power before... if only you'd always been a nasty bitch, maybe things would have turned out differently.

Oh well.

"Allow me to prove myself. Allow me to touch you, Princess. I will make you feel good."

You knew he would. He'd done it before. You'd seen stars when you came, felt muscles you've never used contract. It was pleasure so intense it almost pained you. You'd been quite vulnerable then.

But it was the sudden loss of control that put you on guard. For those moments, you were a weak human girl again, molden entirely by the people around you. If they wanted you happy, then you were. If they were scared, you were the brave one. If they needed a human sacrifice, you were it. If Poseidon wanted to make you cum, then you'd let him.

In the back of your mind, you knew that didn't make sense. But an emotion you didn't want to name pushed you to push him even harder.

"You will? Really? So much confidence... After your rather lackluster performance earlier, I can't quite say I'm ready and willing for you."

Poseidon was, at his core, a prideful God. For him to lower himself to his knees was already a great feat. But to gaze up at another? As they fix him with a disgust that was a cheap copy of his own? It was tearing apart the very foundations he'd built his persona around.

Poseidon was perfect. Everyone knew that. Perfect beings didnt bow to others– yet "may I's" left his throat in shards, like so much broken glass. And his knees were not used to such a position. The slow-creeping ache was deeply discomforting.

But your insult to his performance struck deep. A being incapable of subparness, being told he was a failure. Pride wasn't the only thing on the line here. It was his identity as a God itself that you've challenged.

"Watch, Princess. I shall wield your body as though you were waves at sea, and soon, you will know."

The sudden poetry left you speechless for once, allowing your legs to be spread as his lips crept up and over faded scars you still got insecure about. They were just slightly darker than your skin tone, and to you, stuck out like so many sore thumbs. They were ugly. But he kissed them with a reverence saved for something beautiful.

You hated this part; when his hands start to roam, and your mind, once so clear and your thoughts once so calculated, become muggy and muddled. He touched you with a gentleness you didn't think him capable of, as though you were something- someone -precious.

It's embarrassing to admit, but you're still quite new to the many facets of pleasure. Lust was never something you had a chance to indulge in. And now, under the slightest of pressure, you're left sensitive and open, your moans as common as flowers in the spring.

"P- Poseidon. Slow down..."

He was already going quite slow, and you realize that making him go slower was worse. His tongue dragged up your torso at a most agonizing pace, and the seconds it took him to slip your gown above your head felt like hours.

Now bare, the coldness of the room latched to your skin. You started to tremble, just slightly. If you'd been a bit more clear-headed, you would have forced yourself to stop. But Poseidon's mouth has found your tit, and he's got both hands at your hips kneading the skin like it'd make him cum. You never stood a chance.

You flinch, head thrown hard into the cushioned back of the throne as his tongue sucks on your nipple. He twirls it in his mouth, savoring the way your whimpers change in pitch when he runs his teeth over it. Part of him wants to bite hard, hear you squeal as pleasure mixes with the pain. He wants to feel your whole body jerk into his embrace, and hold you there while you suffer through it.

But the part that knows you knows you'd never recover from such a move. It'd be no fun to torture you if you'd become pliant after. He'd simply have to make you twitch in other ways.

His hands take more direct action as he lifts you up and into the air. You're balanced on his chest, and find yourself shy to be fully naked in front of him. You've had to bare yourself before crowds before, of course. But he was just one man, one God. You couldn't run from his eyes, from his hands, from his tongue. His attention was all on you, and you were far too aware of that fact.

Gosh, it made it no better that you were the only one naked.

"I-I demand you take your clothes off!" You meant to sound powerful, commanding, like earlier. But your voice broke and watered and you stuttered over your words and your face was getting hot and you couldn't look him in his eyes and holy hell. You weren't sure you could take much more of this.

"You demand me...?" You can feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest. However, it's rather inconvenient that your cunt is pressed so tightly to it. You almost sob out a moan at how good it feels. Your arousal was surely soaking through his robes, and you fear you'll pass out if you so much as glance at the stain you've made.

His deep voice has gained a tone of authority, much like the Poseidon everyone was used to. But it didn't thicken the air with his anger, like when he spoke to his brothers. It was cold and calm and calculated.

Where your authority faltered, his bloomed. It came naturally to him, of course. It made quite the farce out of your earlier bravado.

"Yes? I, I do. I do demand you!" You sound like a little kid. This is going terribly for you.

Poseidon doesn't answer you. He's still staring. His hands mold themselves into the fat of your ass, and the sensations leave you gripping his shoulders till the fabric rips, arching into his hold with full confidence he wouldn't let you fall.

You can't help but grind against his chest, just a little bit. It's muscular, but his pecs are soft like your own chest, and meld to your cunt so perfectly you can't help but chase the feeling. The thought to be embarrassed doesn't have time to cross your mind, as you're already long gone, riding the waves of pleasure to wherever they take you.

You're jostled suddenly, and you realize your eyes are closed when you open them and find Poseidon has retaken his rightful seat. You'd react, but he moves first. You're set down in his lap, all contact discontinued.

You feel... small. You now look up at him. And being that the chair was made for him, you find he looks far more regal than you ever could've. In seconds, you're transported back to that night. Being woken up from your bed in the middle of the night. Full restrained, your screams drowned out by the prayers they chanted as you were walked up the stairs towards the alter. Being laid flat along it, seeing the dried blood in the dim firelight. The way the knife gleamed under it.

Subconsciously, your hand moves above your heart, as if protecting it. The knife never struck home. But you're feeling pains as if it did.

Soft lips along your cheeks make you realize you're crying.

The stoicism hasn't left his features, but deep in his eyes you notice something deeper than admiration. Something that far surpassed the superficial love a devotee has for a God. This was a love for equals. For people who have seen each other, known each other's souls like they know each other's skin, who's loyalty isn't out of duty or convenience, but out of the most genuine of cares.

You find yourself standing up and leading him to the bedroom.

On the mattress, you see eye to eye. He's bared his skin for you. You got to watch as he did it. Waning candle light flickered across pale skin as he slowly loosened his fabrics. He enjoyed the hunger in your eyes. You enjoyed feeling hungry. It'd felt forbidden to want for yourself. But now, you let your greed consume you. And consume it did.

You basically drooled as the folds slid down his hips. His cock was soon exposed, and the red, throbbing tip made your mouth water. His thighs were sticky with precum, and now that you look, you weren't the only one leaving stains on clothes.

You found him gorgeous. Ever last inch of him was pure and perfect, the very image of Godhood. From his perfect golden curls to the deepness of his gaze and the stony expression on his face to match.

You wished you could tell him all this and more. Instead, when he approaches you, you kiss it into his skin.

You're maneuvered slowly onto your back. Kisses that felt like prayers rained down by the dozens. Open mouthed, wet, messy. His love for your body was so strong it seeped into you. Suddenly, you loved the skin you were in, loved it for everything its lasted through, loved it for being the temple he prayed at. His reverence was a clear sign he intended to finish what you started earlier- showing you how a perfect God pleases his partner.

All at once you were eaten. The teeth of desire are sunken deep into your flesh, your arousal drunken like water in a desert of lust. He was everywhere and you were nowhere, you were a map, and him a traveler determined to explore every corner. You never knew you could feel so many sensations at once. It was wonderful and terrifying and your hips were moving on their own and you could barely hear your thoughts over your own moans and-

"Ohhh..."

His tongue is inside you and his thumb is at your clit. His other hand palms your breast. Whatever spot he just hit triggered something to explode deep inside you, and you were cumming across his tongue before even you knew it.

You trembled hard, but his hands held you steady at the waist. If you saw stars last time, the whole universe has now spread itself out before you. Galaxies boasted a beauty you couldn't comprehend for mere seconds before you were dropped back on Earth, panting and sweating and surely out of your mind.

Your lover rises, and you find he looks rather good with your cum running down his chin. His whole chest was wet, and not long ago at all that would have left you feeling embarrassed. But right now, all you felt was a sense of rightness.

Pride bloomed alongside it when you see he'd blown his load all over his own thighs and the bed. He came untouched. And that was your doing. ♥︎

He hadn't softened even a bit though. He was looking at you like you were some kind of savior, and it made your cunt throb that much harder in anticipation.

"Poseidon...My love?"

Your tone was innocent, but one look at your face revealed the act for what it was. Your intentions were unholy despite the obvious irony of that, but as long he'd indulge, you could care less.

"I may not bend oceans to my will, nor be experienced in the wielding of the skin nor the sword..."

"But I find you've broken a spell over me tonight. The shackles of my past shan't hold me anymore. For the first time since that night, I have left the altar. I have left the false throne I'd known most of my life, and come to you not as a figurehead, nor a Princess, but as myself. I do not order, but ask: allow me to prove myself. Allow me to touch you. I, too, will make you feel good."

Your question is not answered with words, but a kiss. One as soft as a feather, and as sweet as freedom.

-------------

A/N: This came to me in a wretched vision this very night, believe me or not. Will I spellcheck this? I'll see after I add tags. Will I edit and sharpen this? I'll see when I'm spellchecking. Enjoy.

[somesaycosmo]

laurence, the first vicar - an analysis

hi! this is future marie, when i'm going back through and finalizing my draft of this post. this was originally meant to just be an analysis of laurence's song, but it turned into more than that, so just bear with it!

"oh look it's my favorite boss soundtrack in soulsborne! thankfully, bloodborne is a very simple game with straightforward lore, and the lyrics of its tracks are similarly straightforward, so there's not much to analyze here." -a quote from an alternate universe marie who was blessed with a game that didn't give her frenzy

"bloodborne's tracks have lyrics?" you might ask - and yes, in fact, they do! many of them have choral lyrics in latin, including mr laurence "i forgot the sacred adage" lastname's track here.

before we start, please listen to the song, if only because it's very good

this post is using the translated lyrics from this bloodborne wiki, while taking some liberties with the interpretation based on the game's lore. i do not know latin, but if anyone does, i'd love for them to hit me up. i'm also going to specifically tag @rococospade-main, both to shout them out for being great to discuss bloodborne lore with (it's where i got the idea to write this post)

as always, lore starts below the line

so the song starts with 4 lines, as follows

Children, know that if you will abide by the sacred rite with great commitment There will be a reward through the Holy Blood You will be rewarded with the hidden Holy Blood Or, maybe I shall lose my humanity through the Holy Blood

already starting off strong with the "questioning one's faith" vibes, eh, larry?

"children" might be in reference to actual children, or it might be the thing priests do, where they're called "father" and stuff (can you tell i'm not christian?) with laurence in this case being the "father" and the disciples of the church being his "children"

the reward from the holy blood is, of course, ascension, which we all know everyone from byrgenwerth strived for, because they're losers. "hidden holy blood" might be in reference to ebrietas bein all locked up in the chalice dungeons?

"maybe i shall lose my humanity through the holy blood" is, based on how early it is in the song, likely about laurence looking forward; loss of humanity is seen as a good thing, because it means ascension. the dramatic irony of this is of course obvious, considering the song plays when we're beating the shit out of laurence's fallen and bestial form - because loss of humanity can also mean other things, it turns out.

We honor you with the Blood Yet you judge this as blasphemy You are obsessed with this mystery And you shall be overcome by bestiality

We honor you with the Blood Yet you judge this as blasphemy We are hindered by this mystery Water does not achieve success

now laurence is speaking to the gods instead of to his followers. "we honor you with blood / yet you judge this as blasphemy" is likely him pleading to the gods. the description of the defiled chalice reads, "Curses are caused by inciting the anger of the Great Ones, and used to hex others." this paints a picture of the gods as somewhat vengeful; it makes sense that the beastly scourge, then, would be hypothesized to be a plague cast upon humanity for some sin they've committed, and laurence would know best what exactly that sin is.

"you are obsessed with this mystery / and you shall be overcome by bestiality" seems out of place in the rest of this section, given it's the only one that refers to humanity as "you," but i've taken this as it being the gods replying to laurence in the song, with the mystery likely being "how to ascend to godhood". this is the blasphemy you have committed, they say, and you shall be overcome by bestiality

"we are hindered by this mystery" once again, we're talking from laurence's perspective. firstly, laurence for the first time admits that obsession with ascension might not be so great, actually.

"water does not achieve success" this could be interpreted as talking about the whole "great bodies of water are often bulwarks" thing discussed in the lake and sea runes, laurence sort of saying "protecting ourselves from the truth does nothing to help us ascend," with water, effectively, being "safety." to go further, in my personal interpretation, this is more about the comparison of blood and water. you know that old saying, "blood is thicker than water"? that came to mind immediately while reading these lyrics, given the constant talking about blood in the song (and in the game). perhaps here laurence is comparing water to blood with water, water being "safety" and blood being "success" (ascension). to reference the item description for the white church set, "They believe that medicine is not a means of treatment but rather a method for research, and that some knowledge can only be obtained by exposing oneself to sickness." this will come up later.

By the Gods, friend Be afraid By the Gods, friend The Blood Be afraid You are right to

this is familiar! this could be willem speaking, this could be laurence speaking to someone else, or this could be laurence speaking to himself (my writer's brain imagines him muttering this quietly to himself in despair as his mental health and questioning of his faith declines) - due to "you are right to [fear the blood]," i lean towards him talking to himself as if talking to willem, perhaps wishing he had actually feared the old blood, or saying that willem is better off for doing so. regardless, it is incredibly reminiscent of the sacred adage ("fear the old blood" etc etc we all know it by heart at this point), and is likely supposed to be that.

It will be a majestic festivity By the Holy Blood So come, this sweet wine O defiled juice (this has to mean "wine" or "drink" i refuse to believe laurence would refer to the holy blood as a juice. i will not allow it)

this one, oddly, seems to indicate a toneshift - i would argue it's a result of his spiraling mental state. throughout the song he's questioning his faith and his actions, chanting his old mentor's sacred adage to himself; his life up to this point is a life of success while the cure and path to ascension he was peddling to yharnam turns them into horrific beasts. so he ends up doubling down on the religious fervor he started this endeavor with. this delves more into headcanon territory, so bear with me for a second:

have you ever thought about why laurence drops the beast's embrace rune?

laurence, the first vicar, the first cleric beast, drops the rune that allows you to enter a state of controlled beasthood whenever you want (provided you use a beastly weapon, of course). isn't that odd? shouldn't he drop something that, like, increases the amount blood vials heal you? maybe super duper extra special communion +6? why would he drop that rune, of all things, especially when the game already has a named character they could've put in to drop it (that being irreverent izzy)?

let's look at the item description.

After the repeated experiments in controlling the scourge of beasts, the gentle "Embrace" rune was discovered.

When its implementation failed, the "Embrace" became a forbidden rune, but this knowledge became a foundation of the Healing Church.

now i am not necessarily going to suggest that laurence dreamed up the beast's embrace rune himself - it could make sense, but that isn't necessary for the rest of what i'm about to say, which is this: the last part of the song is laurence giving into beasthood voluntarily.

perhaps he believed so strongly in the blood of ebrietas taking him to ascension that he decided beasthood must be it, must be the next step for humanity; perhaps, in a final move of desperation, he tried to control beasthood by experimenting on himself with this rune; or perhaps he had already imbibed so much of the old blood that he couldn't control his need to spill the blood of others.

personally, i lean toward the second interpretation. let's look at the description of laurence's (human) skull:

Skull of Laurence, first vicar of the Healing Church. In reality he became the first cleric beast, and his human skull only exists within the Nightmare.

The skull is a symbol of Laurence's past, and what he failed to protect. He is destined to seek his skull, but even if he found it, it could never restore his memories.

firstly, i'd just like to point out the irony in the statement "he is destined to seek his skull"; he spends his human life seeking ascension, and when he achieves metamorphosis, he is cursed to spend that form trying to find his humanity again, mindless, lost in a nightmare.

secondly, and more to the point, let's look at the line "a symbol of laurence's past, and what he failed to protect." examining this item for its symbolism is fairly clear - it's a relic of laurence's humanity, and that's exactly what he failed to protect, the humanity of himself and others. this description leads me to believe he wanted to protect humanity, but failed.

a lot of interpretations of him have him as this truly evil person who was just deceiving the city of yharnam for his own personal gain, but honestly, i don't buy that. that's not what bloodborne is about. i mean bloodborne is and can be about a lot of things, and i could ascribe dozens of basic thematic interpretations of it off the top of my head, but characterization that simple doesn't fit bloodborne (and, frankly, it's not tragic enough for miyazaki).

so, with all that combined, why do i believe that laurence branded himself with beast's embrace in an attempt to further research on the control of beasthood, so as to protect humanity? well, to go back to an item description from earlier, some knowledge can only be obtained by exposing oneself to sickness.

thank you for reading.

[cosmicallynightmarish]

22.1.19 Light thoughts on ascension.

I was concerned, a while ago, about the nature of ascension. I had a theory within which one would have to lose their self in order to ascend; in order to have power over the world, one would have to become one with it, and in doing so there would no longer be a self. It’s a theory obscured by time to the point where that synopsis is not simply a synopsis, but also a good measure of what I recall in this moment. It was distressing enough that it made me reconsider my goals of ascending, and made me retreat deep into the confines of the School, which, really, I should be thankful for. I avoided the School for a long time, and, although it is still obscured by the uncertain, illusory threads upon which it sits in the Nightmare that should be a woven blanket of objectivity, I understand it now more than ever. It was a necessary detour to reintroduce me to an old friend. Quite funny, actually, how fear would bring me to the School in this life. Fear is the shadow upon which the luminous School shed light.

It is also quite funny how, at the time of having that theory, I wonder if I even understood the concept of eyes - of Nightmarish ascension. Certainly not as deeply as I do now, considering it seems to be just what I feared then. Lucky. I have a much calmer, warmer attitude towards Nightmarish communion now, tempted as I am to fall into sleep, to follow in the footsteps of the Vacuous Rom. I do wonder of what She dreams. And finding my gods in creation itself.. I think often enough of the idea that Heaven and Hell are simply subjective experiences of communion with the Christian God, I believe within the Nightmares I would find my Heaven, but, then again, they are ‘Nightmares’ for a reason.

I was shuffling my Old Hunter’s deck; retrieving it now, of course Communion is right there on the bottom. 

Yes, shuffling my deck, that started this thought. Strange that I even have a tarot deck - two, now - but I appreciate the insights it has given me greatly. Shuffling, yes, thinking about how every movement contributes to the fate that will come - or is it working fate itself? Is every movement we make of such great significance, like letters to words of the ‘great story’? Or, are we perhaps simply playing out the story? 

What is free will? Such an interesting, fascinating question, not for its answer but simply for it its existence, and the conversation that grows like mould around it. I have no care for answers, right now, simply sitting and stewing comfortably in the strange warmth of all that possibility, all those discussions worth having. Are we already a part of this world? To what shall we ascend? If reality truly is a scale from our dense existence to beyond, perhaps we really are this world. Perhaps we are already connected with reality. That is my current belief, or is of my current beliefs, but beliefs can change. 

“Loss of self”, oh dear. Which self did you fear losing? The human self is fascinating, given the singular personality is but a group of sub-identities, given that the self is seemingly continuous reactions to the internal and external like a candle’s flame, ever-changing and self-replacing, given past lives and simultaneous lives, given the possible source of all of us.. Perhaps the answer to the questions of “self” and “other”, though, are like the experience of love. One can dissect love all they wish, but they will have but a bunch of words, like a machine and its formulae for working, it is only by feeling it that you can understand. Oh, I didn’t want to think, now, on answers to questions. Too mellow in feeling, lightly tired from approaching questions with seemingly dual answers.

To what will you ascend? To godhood, to power, to yourself?

[itsgirlcraft]

Damnnnnn...

Small bit of expansion on the Clownbo timeloop au

Evbo eventually starts to find a strange comfort in the consistency of Clown’s rage at him and while everything always stays the same each time he resets…Clown always is the one person that can always surprise him in the end, something that changes things while everything else stays the same. Someone that Evbo can’t predict in the end and it’s so comforting to him ever since he began looping everything around, trying to change a preset narrative in his own crusade to win against fate and time.

There are times when he thinks about even letting Clown win.

But he enjoys the fact, an insidious thing that clings to his heart, that Clown will always lose to him and it’s…pleasing to see how enraged he gets at every loss, at every almost win that inertly ends with him feeling the pain of death and being forced to look at the man who turned into a god in his final moments. It’s something so consistent about him.

It’s such a comforting thing that Evbo lets Clown freely attack him when they see each other, feels the pain of his fists and can’t help but breath as the pain hits him. How his blood, once crimson now a thick black sludge, stains the other’s hands as he tries to kill him…and he just smiles at him since they both know he won’t die.

And clown is just shaking and breathing so heavily as he straddles him.

And Evbo in such the calmest way possible over the bloodshed…

Drags clown for a hug.

Something so tight and painful that it makes clown heave in pain and fight to get out of it, thrashes in his arms like an angry wolf. Clawing and biting until he exhausts himself.