#lillys weave of webs

[cosmiclove-heavenstruck]

I CAN'T PRETEND LIKE I UNDERSTAND

sources under the cut

how did it end? by taylor swift / taylor's speech before singing betty on the eras tour (text from @cages-boxes-hunters-foxes) / the unexpurgated diary of anais nin, anais nin / the torn-up road, richard siken / how did it end? by taylor swift / it lasts forever and then it's over, anne de marcken / girl talking, carol ann duffy / the one by taylor swift / the torn-up road, richard siken / how did it end? by taylor swift / letters from medea, salma deera / how did it end? by taylor swift / the torn-up road, richard siken / saudade, john freeman / crush, richard siken / how did it end? by taylor swift / the torn-up road, richard siken

[saltair-and-webweaves]

I think I was just born with something dark and ugly inside of me. Always waiting to be found out.

planetarium - adrienne rich/@twoheadedfawnn/ugly, bitter, and true - suzanne rivecca/a burning hill - mitski/a hora da estrela- clarice lispector/ @100493503004422/sharp objects - gillian flynn

[swirlingyouintomypoems]

Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.

@dog-teeth/nobody - mitski/@ lilrainpoety on instagram/little weirds - jenny slate/@blossomfully/@chaandajaan/strawberry blond - mitski/wishbone - richard siken/salt - salma deera/unable to find a source/mia hollow/the unabridged journals of sylvia plath/nobody - mitski/crush - richard siken

[nikov]

i worry that love is violence

citizen illegal, josé olivarez / angel of small death & the codeine scene, hozier / black iris, leah raeder/ r.d. laing / the tale of despereaux, kate dicamillo / litany in which certain things are crossed out, richard siken / blue lily, lily blue, maggie stiefvater / john my beloved, sufjan stevens / litany in which certain things are crossed out, richard siken / mockingjay, suzanne collins

[scattered-winter]

uhh 23 and ur firefighter show? :)

send me a number on my spotify wrapped playlist and a fandom and I'll make an edit with my favorite lyrics

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

Priest getou and nun reader or villager reader....(anything other than the word both isnt acceptable...😡😡😡 /j) -🪄

🪄 ANON I SEE YOU AND YOU RAISE A VALID POINT but please consider…… priest!geto and non-believer!reader.

imagine just waltzing into a church one day. almost as if on a whim. you don’t believe in god, you aren’t interested in praying, but you’re exploring this quiant little town, and the church looks pretty from afar, and you figure it could be a nice way to burn time.

you enter the building to find that a sermon is taking place. a priest is speaking to the few rows of people listening. the church is fairly small, but paintings and sculptures and the mellow glow of beautiful cathedral glass give it a sense of mystique that you’re drawn to. you take a seat and listen along, halfheartedly, not praying like the rest, not singing along to the hymns… you stick out like a sore thumb, but hey, it’s not as if anyone is paying attention.

except someone is, and it happens to be the priest that was holding the sermon just a second ago. the same one you spent most of your time oogling once the paintings started to bore you, because he’s so pretty for a priest. beautiful long black hair, amber eyes, sharp facial features, pretty hands and fingers — and the smoothest, silkiest voice you’ve heard in your life. like a sun-soaked bundle of lillies.

… also, his cassock is just a little too tight of a fit to tear your eyes away from.

you stick around a little longer once almost everyone has left, just scrolling on your phone and basking in the quiet, and that’s when he approaches you. he jokingly tells you that it’s always obvious when a non-believer enters a place of worship, but he’s not mad; he’s amused. you end up chatting a bit about your beliefs, he’s a lot more chill than you expected, and…. well. he’s just really, really charming.

so maybe you end up coming back the week after. maybe his smile is a bit like a spider’s web. maybe it becomes a kind of routine to speak to him after his sermons; you still don’t sing along to the hymns or spend any time on prayers, and he still finds it funny. maybe once in a while you end up liking a paragraph from the scripture he’s reciting, and he’s always more than happy to discuss it with you. but mostly you’re there for him. for your chats, for standing outside and badgering him about his beliefs while he smokes and listens with an amused grin.

rain hits the ground with a steady rhythm, earthy tobacco floods your veins, spiders by the ceiling weave a web of dew, and his presence is just a little more intoxicating than you’d deem appropriate.

suguru just… isn’t a very orthodox priest. he doesn’t care for the bible as more than a literary piece, he has his own view of god, his own thoughts on worship. he smokes. he may or may not occasionally manipulate church-goers into donating money so he can invest in another overpriced painting. you ask him if there are any bodies in the basement you should know about, and he answers that any self-respecting priest wouldn’t conduct their blood rituals in the basement of their own church. he knows how to pick locks. he tells you once, very quietly, that he doesn’t believe man was created in god’s image. there’s a look in his eyes that you don’t comment on.

he’s funny. charming. pleasantly suspicious. your conversations are enjoyable for the both of you, and eventually the edges of his cedar eyes begin to crinkle the slightest bit whenever you walk into his field of vision. sometimes he eyes your lips for a little too long, and a honeyed irony seeps into his grin when you call him out on it. he asks you if you’re tempting him on purpose, and you shrug. whatever exists between the two of you remains unspoken.

one day, he tells you that he believes it was god who sent you to him. you furrow your brows with a protest, a mutter reminding him of your beliefs, how you believe in free will — how you waltzed into his church out of your own volition. no one else’s.

he only smiles, and flicks the butt of his cigarette. you think he remains unconvinced.

[her-idol]

Hello !!

May shy request npts based on spiders / nurses and lolita fashion ? ( If you can't do both you can either one separately )

Much thanks !! - @arachnid-wife

NAMES

anna , doll , med , webbs , mourge , nyurse , lovina , vanella , frillyre , lillie , lita , litia , charlotte , widow , nursie , dollette , ariadne , arachne , tarantulette , silk , websy , weblita , webette

PRONOUNS

nu/nurse , pat/patient , med/medical , web/webs , string/strings , sew/sews , blood/bloods , si/sick , nee/needle , med/medicine , noir/noire , la/lace , fri/frill , shi/shine , doll/dolls , heal/heals , hos/hospital , lov/love , sti/stitch , ven/venom , fang/fangs , weave/weaves , si/silk

TITLES

prn of the hospital , prn who heals , prn of class , prn of elegance , prn who is adorned in frills , prn of the (spiders) web , prn who resides , prn in the dress , the doll , the spider in the web , the healing doll , the spider that heals , the web weaver

[whitegoldtower]

Making a sick new Skyrim OC.

Alak’niss Rilynoth, the Arachnomancer and Champion of Mephala.

A loose relation to the once noble House of Dagoth, House Rilynoth’s sons were commonly raised to become either acolytes of Mephala or trained to become Morag Tong, whilst the daughters were carefully poised to become formidable house matrons.

Alak’niss was born female, his wild sorcery incredibly potent from birth. He was head of House Rilynoth, being the first born of his siblings, and was very carefully taught the arts of subterfuge, manipulation and seduction. As such, he thrives wherever there is court intrigue.

His transition to becoming male was not, however, seen as disgraceful by the rest of House Rilynoth: instead, with Mephala as their main deity, his transition was seen as divinely artful ‘espionage’ weaved by the Prince, herself (divine intervention, so that he would not have been wasted on being sent to the Morag Tong or a mere temple like the other males in the family), and he was thusly considered ‘spider-kissed’.

Alak’niss’ sorcery was nurtured, and his proficiencies in Illusion, Alteration and Conjuration earnt him a place at the College of Winterhold, where he subsequently began experimenting with crafting his own spells.

(Some of the ideas I have for his spellcasting include: plunging rooms into darkness, casting psychologically damaging illusion spells (such as a variant of ‘frenzy’, wherein the target hallucinates the sensation of being covered in spiders (target will attack itself and anything near in a frenzied panic), and another that can be stacked on top of ‘darkness’ wherein he uses more illusion to disorient the target though duplicating any sound he makes in multiple directions (a variant of ‘fear’, similar to DnD ‘dissonant whispers’)), binding targets with magical conjured webs, using conjuration/destruction to fire urticating poisoned hairs at targets causing them to itch uncontrollably, shifting his shape (using alteration and illusion) to become a monstrously large frostbite spider, using alteration to gain a ‘sticky fingers’ effect which involves him being able to climb walls, and potentially even shift the gravity of a room through illusion and alteration.)

But this was not the main reason he was sent to Skyrim by his House; the main reason was to seek out Mephala’s artefact, using any and all means at his disposal to obtain it.

But his quest for power for House Rilynoth does not stop there; he seeks to overthrow Clan Volkihar and obtain immortality via using subterfuge, seduction and manipulation to destroy Lord Harkon from the inside, whilst gaining the trust of the other dunmer in the castle (Garan Marethi, Feran Sadri, etc.).

And he’s got his eye on Garan Marethi.

He spent a lot of time underground with the Falmer in the quest for Auriel’s Bow, and as such, I believe he learnt how to navigate the darkness as well as they do. When in Blackreach, do as the Falmer do. Despite having night vision as a vampire, he challenges himself to navigate Blackreach with his eyes closed, relying on his other senses. So not only is he a skilled mage, he doesn’t even need to rely on his sight to engage in combat.

The Dark Brotherhood want him so bad. Practically drooling over this guy.

He militantly aids other Dunmer in Skyrim, rallying the Grey Quarter, liberating Solstheim, getting on good terms with Neloth...

I would describe him as a rather small yet athletic dark elf, with a knee-length black braid, poison-green eyes with blood-red sclerae, dusky purple-grey skin, web-like tattoos and a masculine siren-like face. He’s almost always draped in black and plum silks, dripping with gold jewellery, and he smells like a cavern, incense and gleamblossom flowers (I imagine them smelling kind of like lillies?).

Anyhow, his highest stats would be in: Illusion, Alteration, Conjuration, Speech, Alchemy and Sneak, followed by one hand weapons (though he only really uses a dagger as a last resort, i.e when his magicka runs out).

Necromancers and vampires really thought they were the most sinister things to walk Tamriel.

(And now here’s a fucking GRIM and impossibly dark beat to go with the story)

[galaxyofender]

Azalea Rosewood of Frjosi Ainara Boreas web-weave, Tempest Cleric of the goddess of Wind and Freedom.

Matthew Feeney // Brandon Morgan // "The Hand That Feeds", The Crane Wives // Alexander Sinn // "Second Chances", Lilli Furfaro // "Children Of The Moon", Ian Fontova // Nazym Jumadilova // "Rose", The Oh Hellos // Wes Hicks // "The Black Moth", Laureli Amadeus

[dulcewrites]

I know that Alayne's mother is still not confirmed but if her mother is Viserra(I hope so!) I can imagine Viserra visiting her mother in her deathbed as a ghost and be like:

"You shall be remembered as a good queen but as a bad mother as well..." *she chuckles* "If I were still alive, I would protect my dear Alayne from your claws and the king's, my sweet daughter suffering from a marriage with a man old enough to be her grandsire..or worse by being the wife of that thing(Daemon lol)" Viserra's tone changes into one of disgust.

"Are you here to remind me of my failures?" Alysanne is in tears, bitterness in her tone; Viserra keeps her signature smile and adds casually:" I'm here to remind your hypocrisy as well dear mother...and" Viserra's tone is as cold as ice and Alysanne felt her anxiety rise

"I'd like to say that my dear daughter will marry a second time...to a great man and have three children," Viserra says with a grin, eyes full of fondness and relief" and that my granddaughter will be queen" Alysanne's stomach drops, she looks pale

"You don't look happy mother...are you afraid that her poor husband will suffer from my granddaughter's ambitions and machinations?" Viserra's tone changes again then she points a finger at her and Alysanne recoils.

"You married Father because you didn't want to marry an old man and when I have done the same, you have shunned me for it, marrying me to an old man, and you have done the same to Alayne...and you have asked yourself why my sweet granddaughter has never written me a single letter"

"Why Vaegon is writing me with such coldness...why Saera doesn't come back...why my children are dying, wasn't Daella and Alyssa or mine's death proof enough"

I love this. I personally like the idea that in her life, Viserra does revere her mother (saw her as a safe haven compared to her father), and it sort of eats her up that nothing she does seems right. The Aegon and Alicent of it all actually. She thought her mother would be proud of her for having ambitions to be queen. But her “love” is not the right kind. Viserra could never compete - could never do right. Alysanne gets lauded about how she was as queen, but she was no ruler in her own home because Jaehaerys would not let her be one. Her own trauma would not let her be one. Mothers cannot save their daughters from the same fate…

She should haunt Jaehaerys nasty ass while she’s at it. I actually like the idea him seeing Saera (like in the book he calls a young Alicent her) and viserra. Honestly even if I don’t make Alayne’s mom viserra, I’m getting hella tempted to tap into that whole family dynamic somehow. Jaehaerys, post losing alysanne, loser who hates women, being haunted by each woman he’s done wrong would be a slay. Hmmm

Also fuck it here’s a web weave about Viserra and her parents.

If My Body Could Speak, Blythe Baird // Churning, Kristin Chang // Ladybird // Take Care: Mothers, Daughters, and Inheriting Self-Hatred, Ella Wilson // Saturn Devoring His Son, Francisco Goya // The Madonna of the Lillies, William-Adolphe Bouguereau // The Woman Destroyed, Simone de Beauvoir

[doorrobloxstuff]

Ok, someone has to draw Figure as a Dino. But I got to know what the other's reactions to Halloween are? Especially the younger entities.

A split reaction. Mostly between the introverts or and the children/free spirited hotel residents.

The two contingencies being:

“FUCK YEA!! CANDY!!/I actually like this holiday and the festivities.”

Rush (Yes!! Candy!! ..and alcohol! And parties! Yippee!)

Ambush (Yes!! Candy!!..and alcohol! Yippee! And Rush in the maid outfit.)

Snare (the candy and attention it gets from wearing its little baguette or Lilly pad costume makes baby happi)

Screech (Yes!! Candy!! And costumes!! And the fun stuff!! And Dupe and Sally! Are very fun to hang out with!)

Dupe (Loves the candy!! Gets to hang out with friends! Gets to hang out with Screech! Tons of new things to bat and and chase and sniff! Dupe loves the fall!)

A-60 (surprisingly okay at parties, or atleast okay at eating with its family. Also seeing its little siblings bounce around is actually pretty fun.)

Sally (CANDY!! and then it wakes up in the punch bowl the next morning.)

El-Goblino. (Gets to play with people’s dogs, get a bunch of candy, hang out with Jeff.. what’s there not to like.

Jeff (Oh, it gets to eat some quality food! And it gets to see his grandchildren, how lovely! Jeff probably will use the situation to his full advantage and give out candy. He too, like Timothy has seen the holiday first take form. Oh how he loved the Samhain of old. When he’s not doing festivities. He’s praying and honoring his previous partner/Seek’s other parent or even his deceased ancestors.)

Dread (Used to be a human, and he liked this holiday when he was one. He’s just happy to be here. ☺️ He wears a little witch hat and a sweater because his frog body gets cold easily. )

Figure (Candy, the scent of autumnal flowers, the comfortable costumes, joyful calls of children. Its all wonderful to Figure.)

Timothy (Meemaw spider has seen very beginnings of the holiday. It enjoys it, and it makes fun inspiration for its webbed artworks. Finally an excuse to weave pumpkins and leaves. Oo! Pumpkin muffins!)

Revive (Actually? Likes Halloween and spicy candy a lot so this is actually pretty fun. And the children are..somewhat amusing to watch.)

Glitch (gets to wear a fun little Halloween hat and watch scary movies in the room’s projector. Enough said.)

Curious light (Gets to hang out with their chosen family. Gets to wear a cute little costume. Gets to mess around in their pirate costume with a sword.)

Jack (jumps out and scares the children whilst simultaneously stealing the candy. Only to be forcefully cocereed into returning said candy by an angry Rush.)

“I do not like the implications this holiday brings.”/“Too loud for them to enjoy.”

Halt (EW NO GO AWAY. Too much light, noise and sound. Being compared to a regular sheet ghost isn’t fun.)

Guiding light (too seeeerious + heathen holiday. It doesn’t understand why Curious would consider even liking this.)

Seek (..Doesn’t like being called a monster. Doesn’t like the implication that the costumes portray monsters. It wonders if this world is truly something it should be exposing its children too. Overall very uncomfortable with the concept of the holiday. But will celebrate with its family if it makes them happy.)

Hide (“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”* )

Eyes (“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA* ‘Oh look! Wine!’)

Shadow. (“No.” *Minecraft cave noise as it disappears.*)

Mystery entity (???)

A-120 (Doesn’t really like candy, but it’s fine. It can bake things for its friends and family.)

A-90 ( The skunk doesn’t really care tbh. Less dislikes and more so just simply thinks the holiday is mid compared to Christmas.)

*Introvert’s worst nightmare. Hates trick or treaters + anxiety.

I like to imagine Rush wondering if A-120 and A-90 are actually its kids because of the fact they don’t like Halloween /j

[cosmiclove-heavenstruck]

AND THEY NICKNAMED HER "THE BOLTER"

sources under the cut

mirrorball / you have always been a performer never just a person by fatima aamer bilal / who's afraid of little old me? / you have always been a performer never just a person by fatima aamer bilal / you're on your own, kid / mirrorball / i'll give you the sun by jandy nelson / chloe or sam or sophie or marcus / taylor in miss americana / you have always been a performer never just a person by fatima aamer bilal / midnight rain / bianca sparacino via the love journals / who's afraid of little old me? / dazzled, precise by anna de noailles / default states by nicole / mirrorball / you have always been a performer never just a person by fatima aamer bilal / dear reader / collection of taylor lyrics by me / you have always been a performer never just a person by fatima aamer bilal / my boy only breaks his favorite toys / castles crumbling / dear reader / midnights foreword / anti-hero / you have always been a performer never just a person by fatima aamer bilal / peace / you have always been a performer never just a person by fatima aamer bilal / the bolter / white horse / the lucky one / long story short / you have always been a performer never just a person by fatima aamer bilal / clara bow

[saltair-and-webweaves]

Who will come into my kitchen and be hungry for me?

you say you don’t want a boyfriend, but you know that’s not true - Charlotte Green/the voice - Anaïs Nin/the unabridged journals of Sylvia Plath - Sylvia Plath/tolerate it - Taylor Swift/the unabridged journals of sylvia plath - Sylvia Plath/the unexpurgated diary of anaïs nin - Anaïs Nin/ @treebloods/@lovebeing-a-girl/@ sanwtch on instagram/ @onlyanothermundane/@tullispink/I am an observer, but not by choice - @fatimaamerbilal/the prophecy - Taylor Swift/criss cross - Lynne Rae Perkins/Vladimir Mayakovsky in a letter to Lili Brik/what I could never confess without some bravado - Emily Palermo/little weirds - Jenny Slate

requested here

[swirlingyouintomypoems]

Will I always be alone in this house? Reading books that are too hard for me in the long fatherless hours?

let your dad die energy drink - daniel lavery and cecilia corrigan/bob’s burgers, 2011/family line - conan gray/@parentless-suggestions/promises of gold - jose olivarez/unknown/dna - lia marie johnson/i am angry because of my father - halsey/part of me never left that house - mada hayyas/unknown/father - demi lovato/franz kafta/unknown/primer - aaron smith/family line - conan gray/untitled - frank wright

***sorry for all of the unknowns on this one. I really do try to find the sources for everything but I kept coming up empty w these. If you know the sources pls comment/send me an ask or dm and lmk!!

[bitchfitch]

I wrote most of this last week but i just finished this chapter and By God i need to make people look at it. There's at least four chapters between where the fic currently stands and this one so it's going to be Ages until i get to post it to ao3. (if ur in the mgw server pwease don't read this dbdbd the second half is my submission for this period lmao)

The Erdtree towered above, it's golden branches shedding leaves like a blizzard did ice. The rot was doing its job. Spreading from where the Halligtree's roots tangled with the Erdtree's. The scarlet lines etching the golden bark in deep relief as it flaked away from the disease it had helped bare into the world.

The thrones before it's entrance, six instead of the rightful eight, were exactly as Miquella remembered them. His and Malenia's were still pulled out of the perfect ring of the others. Sat closer together and out of line. It felt fitting now. The perfect ring of Malenia's and Radagon's children symbolizing the stagnant order they had cast the lands in, only to have it broken by those who now came to claim what was theirs by birthright.

Miquella let his hand brush along the sun warmed wood of his as he passed, Malenia doing the same to hers without knowing he'd done it too.

He smiled to himself, throwing a look over his shoulder to where Mohg still stood at the entrance. His head tipped back as he looked to boughs above. It was impossible to have never seen the Erdtree, but to be at it's base for the first time must have been something spectacular. Though, it was disdain writ in the lines of his face. Unabashed and kept in full view. His knuckles going pale around his trident as he came to face the embodiment of his exiler's theology.

"Mohg," Miquella called to him, turning away from the tree and holding a hand out to him.

Mohg shook his head, took a breath and came to him. Taking his hand in his and brushing his thumb over Miquella's wedding band. His eyes fixated on it before meeting Miquella's.

"You will return to me," He said it as a statement.

"Of course. This is merely a formality," Miquella would have continued with a further reassurance, some promise or lilly scented statement about a day these thrones would be relegated to memory as the three admidst the boughs of the Halligtree became the crown of their dynasty, but his sisters prosthetic being unsheathed and her voice calling out interupted him.

"Incoming," Malenia warned the second before an omen Miquella had only ever seen in Mohg's most devastating and loss filled nightmares landed hard on the bricks between them and their goal.

Morgott stood. His face the angry grimace of a warrior who knows they will soon die in a final, pointless, stand.

Malenia stood her ground, giving the King of Leyndell a chance to accept defeat before blood was spilled. Miquella didn't hesitate a moment. His hand tightening around Mohg's as he pushed his way into Morgott's head. Searching out the threads of his will so that he could pull them loose and weave them anew, only to find a steadfast golden will. A web with no loose ends. Morgott's disgust at his own being and countless years of faithful stubborn service to the Order protecting him from Miquella's tampering.

"Traitors. You are all Traitors," Morgott growled. Miquella felt that golden net constrict, and set itself into a new kind of grim determination. Another dagger thrown and knocked away by the pole of Mohg's trident. Morgott had no chance against the true blooded gods, but he could drag Mohg down with him.

Mohg was gone from his side as soon as his shock gave way to dread. His hand held out to his brother, his trident kept lowered in a show of peace.

"Stand aside, Morgott. It is over. There's no-" his pleading masked as an order cut off as a golden dagger narrowly missed his head. A warning shot, the second dagger already forming in Morgott's hand.

Morgott launched up and summoned his hammer to bring it down on his own blood. "Traitors who would taint these grounds with our curse-" He wouldn't have missed if Mohg hadn't flown back, "-And ruined blood." Another swing another dodge.

Malenia recognized the focus Morgott had on Mohg Taking the opportunity she grabbed Miquella by his arm and dragged him towards the entrance to the tree. "This is not our battle. He will handle it."

Miquella nearly tripped over his own feet attempting to keep up with her while still he struggled to find a crack in Morgott's mind to worm his way into.

It had been centuries since the omen twins last spoke, dead to each other as they were, but still Miquella knew his husband well enough to recognize the grief Morgott's death would cause. He knew his own spell work well enough to know such grief would override Miquella's control of him and let him see all that Miquella has taken.

Morgott cast a spear their way while Mohg stumbled to right himself after taking a blow from Morgott's staff. He lead his shot to attempt to guarantee a hit. Miquella dug his heels in to stop Malenia barreling into its silent path. Again attempting to use Morgott's focus on them to worm into his head, and again finding those self imposed barriers of gold blocking his way as surely as the thorns at the entrance if Erdtree blocked their physical path.

Mohg stole Morgott's focus back, snagging his brother's tail with the prongs of his trident. Still so careful to avoid seriously hurting him as he pulled it back and sent Morgott into a roll.

Malenia forced her still living hand between the thorns, Miquella's joining hers as he gashed himself on the thorns. She called her rot through the brambles and he forced his blood into the cracks it carved to carry the disease deeper until it could clot at the branches bases. She shoved his shoulder to guide him through their carved path before she followed.

The gash in the Erdtree let it's fading light fill the dark and empty void within itself. Their mother hung by her wrists from the last arc of the shattered elden ring. Her head lolled forward, her stone like corpse limp and crumbling. The last vestiges of gold pulsing through the cracks as the arc shattered and dropped her to the ground before her youngest children.

Gold to red, the old god Marika had courted so long ago taking her body and standing in unnatural halting movements. His hand grabbed the handle of the hammer Marika had used to shatter the ring. Radagon's face was impassive as he stared down his true born heirs.

Malenia went on the offense first, her blade cutting through the air nearly too fast to see it's arcs. The razor edge cutting deep into his flesh as she stole his attention. Miquella didn't try his tricks, instead he again brought the blood coursing through his veins out of his wounds. Slashing at Radagon's back with it and forcing it into the cracks of him. Radagon swung his hammer, knocking Malenia's blade away before bringing it down on Miquella. He pulled more from his veins to give himself a shield the moment before the hammer could connect. It protected him from the brunt of the strike even as he was knocked to the ground. He struggled to keep his focus split between the blood within Radagon and the pool that he cowered beneath. His shield began to fail, he let go of his attack to focus on keeping his barrier up as he rolled away. Malenia continued her assault, uninterrupted as Radagon focussed on Miquella, until he was turning on her and cracking his hammer into her ribs. She gasped for breath, her chest stuttering as her godhood struggled to heal the wound before her splintered ribs could pierce her heart.

Miquella surged, forcing his shield to be a discuss and embedding it in the gaping chasm of Radagon's side. Even as Radagon turned on him, Miquella kept his focus, making his blood burst in a matte of thorns and vines deep within Radagon's chest. The hammer cracked into Miquella's leg, shattering the bone and making him crumple with a pained shriek. Still he kept his focus. He sent the new life surging through Radagon's dry veins and ripping through his skin. He staggered, Malenia took the opportunity. Her blade cut true, their fathers head rolling as his body slumped.

Both knew that was only the beginning. Miquella called the blood he had cast out back to himself, he couldn't risk his own veins running dry when the fight had only just begun. His leg burned with crushed veins, his pain tolerance having not been finally built through countless battles as Malenia's had been. Sha kept her attention fully on Radagon's corpse, backing towards where her brother fell to stay between him and what was to come next. Miquella's hands pressed against her ruined side his magic worming under her skin and huredly binding her injuries, his own being less important in that instant.

The moments respite didn't last long. Finally unbound from human flesh, their true parent rose. It's amorphous form warping the world around them and casting the hollow they had battled in into a new shape.

The Elden Beast, the outer god at the heart of this all, made the world accept it in its trueness, and in doing so unbound it's children from the weight of this reality.

Malenia's wings of rot spread, the patches of decayed flesh accross her body morphing into iron hard chitinous plates that melded with her prosthetics. Her helmet splitting as her own godhood crowned her in bone melting fungal growths. She soared. Her grace and speed un-matched when she was constrained turning to a blur of perfectly controlled violence in her trueness.

Her cloak of wilted flowers matched her brothers limp moth like wings. Their silken membrane bending like fabric or petals when he moved. He couldn't soar, he couldn't match his sister in battle. But he could lend her support. Unconstrained he let himself melt and meld with the world around them. Reshaping it once more to match their needs. Saplings sprouted from sun drenched red soil. Their growth accelerated by the blood he spread into them until they shot up impossibly high in moments. The Elden Beast attempted to avoid the torrent of attacks from one twin, only to be speared through by the other. Malenia lopped off it's tentacle like wings, Miquella made the branches of his trees flare and their bases crumble. Pulling the Beast down from its inside to pin it while Malenia finished the job. Her blade found its mark. She pierced through it's gelatinous head and into the glowing eye. It's attempts at battle looking more like the flailing of caught animal as she sent a shockwave through it. Splitting it open in gush of golden sparks and rain of blood.

The world around them turned bright, Miquella reformed whole and new once more as the reality they inhabited constrained itself. He heard Malenia land behind him but saw only the unalloyed gold of their future.

They'd done it.

Breathless, his heart twitching and spasming in a wasted effort to push blood through his empty veins. His father was defeated. The outer god responsible for their existence vanquished and reduced to nothing more than the Elden Ring it had forced into this world.

His eyes burned with the lingering searing light, and when it faded he was knelt before the crumbling corpse of his mother. The Elden Ring glowing bright within the cavity of her body, her broken off head laying on the ground between them. Her soul still clinging to it long after life had left her.

He felt his twin's hand on his shoulder. He put his own over hers and stood.

Together they reunited their mother's head and body, and together they plunged their hands into her chest.

Together they shredded the Queen and her god consort. Together they took the power of an outer god, and together, as the only full blooded empyreans amongst their siblings they at long last completed their accession and took their rightful place as King and Queen.

At long last, the twin gods of rot and growth did away with the stagnation of what came before them.

For the briefest moment upon stepping from the dark of the dying erdtree and into the blazing sunlight Miquella believed the glory of this day had only grown.

Mohg knelt in the center of the ring of destroyed thrones. The battle he'd been left to wage while Miquella and Malenia made their final bid having destroyed the only place all the grace born demigods had conviened peacefully.

Mohg knelt there in the center of one of the many places the graceless first born twins were never supposed to see. His shoulders heaving with life and breath, his brother held tight in his arms.

Miquella grinned, and stepped forward. The day had been won on all fronts. Morgott was an overly loyal fool but clear as the sky above was it to Miquella that he'd been saved from being a final sacrifice to the Golden Order.

Malenia's hand was on his shoulder again. Holding him firm instead of greeting as it had before. A sharp flick of her other, the still slick blade of her prosthesis flinging golden blood onto the soiled stones as she drew her blade once more.

The arm over Mohg's shoulder was limp. Mohg shook, Morgott was still.

One half laid his other down against the blood drenched ground. His hand under his twisting horns to soften the motion and not hurt what is already gone.

He leaned over his brother, pressing their heads together one last time before standing and turning to face those he had given everything for.

Miquella could see now that Mohg's mind was no longer clouded by his spells. No aching obsession coiled around his every thought. No desperate need to please and aid and serve that bordered on madness.

Miquella had promised him a place as lord consort. Had replaced the nightmares that haunted him with dreams of a dynasty born from love and blood that would have never rejected him or Morgott or all the others like them.

Now that they stood over his brother's corpse promises felt like they were worth nothing more than the breath they had been spoken with.

Mohg held his hand out to his side, his trident flew into it. Miquella's strength was nothing compared to Malenia's still he grabbed her arm and held on with all he had to stop her lunging and slaughtering the painfully mortal demigod before them.

"Mohg-" Miquella was a newly minted god king. His voice sounded like a child's in that horrid moment.

"Leave me," Mohg's words were short and cold. His eyes downcast and looking everywhere but Miquella. They had dreamed of this moment for so very long. Of reuniting and falling into eachothers embraces as King and devoted Lord.

Or Miquella had dreamed that, and he had made it Mohg's dream too.

Malenia pulled Miquella behind her, putting herself in the position of his guard as she had so many times before. Staying between him and his husband like the meager Lord of Blood could ever pose a threat to a true god. She guided him away. He hesitated and pulled, weak in the knees and exhausted from the battle, but insisting still on taking slow and halting steps. Hoping to catch Mohg's eye at least once. Hoping desperately to see something other than hate within them.

Mohg wouldn't even look at him.

Malenia pushed on his back. Broke his line of sight until they were out of the throne room and escaping to what had once been their mother's bed chamber.

They had achieved all that they had dreamed. They had become all that they were always meant to be.

Yet he felt only cold dread over the potential loss of a pawn he had always intended to be disposable.

[theparadigmshifts]

It 2010 script by Dave Kajganich // Rocketman, dir. Dexter Fletcher // not exactly where i need to be (and yet it seems so close) by varnes // Jessica Chastain and Sophia Lillis behind the scenes of It: Chapter Two // Little Women script introduction by Greta Gerwig