#messages from the deep

[oldxenomorph]

climbs up the side of ur building spidey-style and stares at u thru the window...... 🌻 (sunflower) and ✨ (sparkles) for zarya'th blease

yellow emoji oc asks 🌟

average city moments. haven't we all seen someone try to climb up the side of a building? takes the offered emojis ☺️

🌻 What’s something your character has grown out of? Did it happen gradually or was it a drastic change? What caused this shift?

i mean the real answer to this is elvhenhood. the condition of being elvhen.

zarya'th always felt like the her body was always meant to be temporary. the more she perfected her ancestor's magic, the more distant she felt from other elvhen. her transformation during tresspasser was the final step to finally being rid of the trappings of elvhenhood.

the eating of other elvhen has further separate herself from the people she once called her kind. the amount of agents of fen'harel infitrating the inquisition keeps her well fed. she traps them in her panopticon, she hunts them, she eats them. she has no qualms eating other elvhen, other elves, city or dalish. eating the people that were once her kind is enough to satiate her unending hunger until she can devour solas.

her disconnection from elvhen has even resulted in her eating the remaining fragments of mythal. her vallaslin -- mythal's branches being dragged into the sign of extinction on her forehead, the line splitting down her face a timeline of the end -- is no longer just a pictogram of the reaper emperor's power, but of the elvhen all-mother being annihilated.

(nova'ra eats ghilan'nain because became yhoundeh commands her to, a transference of power, granddaughter devouring grandmother. ghilan'nain lost favor with yhoundeh. zarya'th eats mythal because she must be obliterated to ensure the world is ready for the reapers. whether there is a veil or not does not matter. there is no war, there is only the harvest.)

✨ What gives your oc confidence? Is it something physical or more emotional? Do they inspire confidence in others? Why or why not?

no longer having to pretend that she's dalish was a big confidence booster. mostly because that charade was starting to wear on her nerves. (also by the end of inquisition, people were slowly beginning to realize she may not be dalish.)

her power has always been her biggest source of confidence. her magic is anceint, yes, but it is terrifying, its effects on the world are horrific. and perhaps that is what disturbed solas, is that strange and wide smile she wore during the first detonation against corypheus. she also knows exactly what she is doing with her magic. and while her ancestor, lavellan, was paranoid about the vanuris finding out about his power, zarya'th is perfectly content being in her panopticon within the white spire existing as a threat to the chantry while also making them rely on her as inquisitor.

of course her biggest source of confidence is what she is: a xenomorph-hybrid, chosen of extinction, chosen as the herald to usher the end of thedas. her xenomorph body is beautiful and perfect. she loves her acidic blood. she veils her entire body when she has to go outside the panopticon because the world cannot comprehend her new state. and when thedas is finally harvested, she hopes that the reaper emperor, extinction itself, will finally finish her transformation. the prospect of shedding all of her elvhenhood and become a daughter of the emperor fills her with happiness.

one day, she will be a xenomorph that will glow like uranium glass, sleeping amongst sisters, loved by the emperor-mother and night-mother.

[malvoile]

I remember when you first posted Me and the Devil!!!! Just wanted to say I’m a HUGE FAN of your writing!!! Literally one of the best Paul atreides x reader fics on the platform, on the PLANET

STOOOOOP we've been together a long time then bb <<333 thank u for staying & supporting! ily so much thank you what da hell!!!

[havi-fart]

I cannot over-emphasize the degree to which ive been preparing my entire life for this moment @jone-slugger

[jakeperalta]

I truly believe I am a considerate and understanding person but I fear every day I am forced to work with my useless boss I am turning more evil and violent and rageful

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

We moved on from Buck being the one to meet Kim at the station too fast. Way too fast.

Because hey, what would you do if the dead wife or a doppelgänger dead wife of your best friend-partner-almost love of your life showed up at your place of work with brownies? Would you ignore the date you scheduled in favor of driving over to your best friend’s place to knock urgently on his back door because you’re so afraid that something is happening to him. And you know that something is happening because the doppelgänger of his dead wife just showed up to the firehouse with brownies like it was just another Monday. You think you might have to push him to talk, but it feels more like your best friend was just waiting for someone to see him, and he is just as dumbfounded as you, and maybe even as scared for himself as you are for him. So you tell him that he needs to break it off with the doppelgänger of his dead wife, but you know that it’s more complicated than that, your best friend’s feelings, even though you trust him to do the right thing and end it with her. But you’re still not through the shock of seeing the doppelgänger of your best friend’s dead wife standing in the fire station, heart beating, lungs expanding, and so you think that maybe your best friend is still in shock too, and you don’t want to push too hard at his grief-wound. So you leave it for now, and you don’t come back to it until it blows up in your face, and your best friend’s face, and his son’s face too.

So yeah, I’d say that Buck probably has a lot of regrets too about the Kim situation. He’s a fixer, no matter how hard he tries, and they lost the kid both of them love more than anything over the situation. You can’t tell me that Buck hasn’t been screaming crying throwing up about it since May. Fuck that.

It doesn’t matter that we don’t get characters’ inner thoughts (usually) on this show. Buck met Kim, and he talked about it with Eddie twice. That’s crazy. That’s certifiably insane. It’s been six months. The midseason finale is tomorrow. There is no excuse for Eddie and Christopher still not speaking. This is no excuse for Buck and Eddie still never discussing Kim or at least Chris leaving. These characters are not meant to be this horrifically repressed. It is strange. It is out of character. Kim showed up for about four episodes and disappeared into the ether. I want to know what the hell is going on with this storyline.

[oldxenomorph]

the reaper emperor x nyx + #17, or melnem 1 #18 for the kiss prompts <3

kiss prompts.

both of these have existed as wips in some form or another in my fic folder, but the prompts finally got me to finish them. hehehe.

#17. height difference kisses where one person has to bend down and the other is on their tippy toes

(the reaper emperor x nyx)

Slender fingers hold pieces of fabric together as dark thread connects them, the needle pushed into the material and exiting with ease. The dim light of the House of Hades catches the celestial shine in the thread pulled from Nyx’s spindle. Every motion is deliberate, delicate, thoughtful; every stitch imbued with an intentionality. In her hands, a large and soft being is formed, eager to fulfill its purpose.

The grim lord of the Underworld is away, as is everybody else. Gone to resume their work that keeps this domain healthy and running as intended. There is no one except for Nyx, her Neurolictor, and the shades that mill about the hall.

A complete lull in activity within the House of Hades is rare. Nyx takes a moment to indulge in just how quiet it is, breathing in the smell of her vases of lilacs and the ash from incense and candles that constantly burn. Shades occasionally stop in front of the primordial goddess, either to bask in her numinous presence or quickly glance at what she is making. Nyx does not mind, for the shades are harmless and respectful, they go about their business once their curiosity is sated.

Yet this is also the perfect opportunity for the Reaper Emperor to make an appearance unveiled. The candle grow dimmer as their light warps in her presence. The shades quickly disperse, moving far away from the eastern hall when she arrives. Nyx feels the air change, hears the changes in the flow of the River Styx. She looks up from her work to see her wife, not expecting to see her until much later, but is nonetheless pleased with her arrival.

The Emperor lowers herself, large tentacles spreading to distribute her weight and maintain her balance as she sits down next to Nyx. “My goddess,” she greets as her long alien pale fingers gently pull the goddess in for a sweet kiss. Nyx enthusiastically accepts, her violet lips meeting her wife’s scarred black ones, setting down the project to deepen the kiss. Her beautiful hands hold the Emperor’s face, her own fingers tracing the brutal red scarification lines. In her kiss, the rest of the House of Hades melts away, the fabric of reality sagging like open wounds.

“You did not send word that you would be visiting,” the Night says when they finally separate, her hands slipping underneath the Emperor’s robe, beneath the violet embroidery of her own designs, fingers settling into the biomechanical structure and texture.

“I wanted to to surprise you,” the Emperor replies, placing another sweet kiss against her wife’s cheek, the black lipstick leaving a faint imprint. “I hope that is alright.”

A soft expression graces the Night's features as she looks up at her wife, feeling the biomachinery beneath her fingertips. There is only the deep thrum of a supermassive black hole in the entity’s chest, a sensation that makes her feel safe, protected. “It is more than alright,” Nyx says as she returns the kiss, claiming her wife with a lipstick imprint of her own, the color of her violet darkness marking both skin and scar.

A pleased sound comes from the much larger entity, the sound fading when she notices the materials Nyx has out. “You have your special sewing kit out,” the Emperor observes. “Are you making a new set of chthonic companions for Nemesis and Melinoë?”

The smile on Nyx’s face spreads a little farther, a sign of true happiness. “Actually, I was making something for you.” She breaks away from her wife to unveil a dark container from underneath the bench with a wave of her hand. “I noticed that unless one of our daughters is in your lap, you have a hard time concentrating while at your desk.” Very carefully, the goddess pulls out a large unfinished stuffed Reaper toy, a soft replica of Harbinger, the First Reaper, the Emperor’s Soul. “I want to make you something you can always have at your desk. Something to hold onto.”

The unfinished Harbinger is its limbs, but the Emperor is already enamored with it. Her hands carefully smooth over the soft dark grey fabric, mindful of her long black talons. Glittering thread sewn into intricate details, the sections of the Reaper's body, the small pinpricks of light in its ominous technology. Nyx has also sewn in six glowing oculi that stare up at the Emperor longingly, as though waiting to be held in the entity’s arms, waiting for her to rest her head on its soft hull.

“Oh, Nyx…. It is wonderful.” The crushing machine-deepness of the Emperor’s voice is full of love and gratitude, touched by her wife’s thoughtfulness, how she takes care of her. Nyx knows how much her wife is deeply fond of plush toys and passed such a fondness down to their daughters. Shai-Hulud told the goddess that it is responsible for its sibling’s need for soft, plush toys. It all stems from the stuffed sandworm it gave her when she was a newborn. Nyx has held the eons old toy, felt the love imbued within it, smelled the spice within its fibers. Now it is kept in a protective altar within the Ziggurat.

The Night reaches over to pluck a couple of florets of fragrant lilacs from the vases that surround her. The color of the flowers are vibrant, intense. She leans forward and instinctively, the Emperor leans down to allow her to tuck a strand of vantablack hair behind an ear, securing it in place with the stem of the flowers. Nyx admires the way the Emperor looks wearing her color: the black and violet robe, her violet eyeshadow, the earrings of violet gems of darkness, the violet flowers in her hair. Beautifully and completely hers.

With no one else in the House except them, the Emperor’s tentacles pull Nyx closer and wrap around her, letting the goddess rest against her form. Their bodies fit perfectly together, even with their difference in size. For a while, they sit together, Nyx holding her wife’s hand, enjoying each other’s presence in the quietness of the near empty House. The primordial goddess closes her eyes, knowing that she is safe from all harm and unwanted gazes. She feels the Emperor gently cup her face, just to hold her closer.

The hours spent together like this are lovely, but the sounds of the House returning to its normal working state and the River Styx rising with activity, causes the Night Incarnate to sit up. A wave of her hand and her project returns to her darkness, safe and sound until it can be finished.

“This is very important work and I shall not keep you from it,” the Emperor says as she rises to her full height. Yet she doesn’t let go of Nyx’s hand. “I only wanted to see you again. You know I hate it that you have to spent time here in this domain.”

“I know, my love.” Nyx’s voice is tender, and there is a longing in it for the far future when the House of Hades will no longer exist and she can be besides her wife at all time, where she can spend endless cycles with their daughters, letting them watch her make more creations just as the one whose limbs are in her lap. “I won’t keep you waiting very long, O Extinction.”

The Emperor leans all of her body down to kiss the gem of darkness on her wife’s forehead, large tentacles gently holding her beautiful face, caressing her cheeks. “Y' ymg' vulgtmah. Y' ymg' vulgtlagln,”she whispers in R’lyehian. I love you. I worship you.

When Zagreus emerges from the River Styx, the Emperor is gone. The House is as it should be. Nyx continues to sew the stuffed Reaper limbs, her perfectly painted violet lips possessing the hint of a smile on her impassive face.

#18. kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap

(reaper!nemesis x melinoë)

Nemesis's consciousness returns to her own as the diagnostic session ends. Her golden oculi adjust to the darkness of the immense room that was built for the sole purpose of disseminating the information collected within her body. The veil cast over her mind lifts as she reacclimates to the Ziggurat, as the sound of the building itself pulls her into the present.

Three hours of her body not being her body. It what she agreed to when she underwent her transformation into a machine-goddess. It what she wanted, to ascend to something more than just her attribution, doing more than just doling out punishments to mortals who anger lesser beings destined to one day go extinct. All of Melinoë worst fears about her brain and body are true, but Indoctrination is a living blessing of the Emperor and her Reapers. Nemesis is brought closer to the entity with her face every time she is in the chair.

She would normally awaken to the feeling of one or a couple of her younger sisters in her lap, the nymphs seeing her plugged in body as the perfect place to sleep. Today is different. When Nemesis’s ocular systems a brought back online and reconnects with her brain, she sees Melinoë.

The saffron orange of her dress. The sickly green glow of her arm. Her fire-licked laurels. The elements of who she is that are easily recognizable, activates her brain activity.

“Ah, you’re awake!” That voice brings Nemesis more into reality, it is both a comfort and the last thing she wants to hear while she is this state of not having control over her body and mind. The tendrils of Reaper code and the Emperor's influence will never truly leave her brain. Couldn’t Melinoë have waited somewhere else? Has it always taken this long to become herself again?

“Awake. Yeah.”

The chthonic princess disappears from Nemesis’s line of sight. There’s not much she can do about it, except continue to regain control of her body, but she can still see her in images that layer onto each other in her head, connected to the monitors that watch all angles of the room, parts of her mind still connected to the building itself. Water vapor makes the room hazy as it cools down the massive servers, as though everything is wrapped in a gossamer veil.

“How long to you typically have to sit here for?” Melinoë asks, her ghostly hand touching the thick tubes containing multitudes of wires, fiber optics, and raw data. Nemesis can feel how her hand wraps around the cables, how her fingers move up the casings and over junctions where they split into smaller sections. Sometimes she wonders if Melinoë is doing this on purpose, if she’s gleaned how this room and this building works after only a couple of visits. She wonders if the princess is trying to goad her into speeding up the process.

But it can’t be rushed. It’s not the same as waking up from sleep.

“Depends,” Nemesis replies, her voice not entirely her own yet, deeper, like the Emperor has taken over her voice box, her real voice faint. At least she can speak again, her personality and identity, the essence of what makes her uniquely Nemesis, comes to the forefront. “Sometimes an hour, sometimes more. Whatever the Emperor and the Reapers want from me.”

She hears Melinoë respond with a hum.

More systems are returning to her. Things become clearer. Her cybernetic eyes widen at the sudden feeling of Melinoë’s weight in her lap, feeling her small body making contact with hers, a burst of chthonic color in start contrast to her body of black technology.

“Melinoë—?”

The young goddess props an elbow on Nemesis’s arm, her mismatched eyes looking up at her as she leans into her flesh palm. “I’d rather not wait in a dark room all by myself. Surely you wouldn’t mind if I waited for you right here?”

“Well. You do have me at a disadvantage here, princess.” Nemesis cannot shift her body, but she can finally move her head. She leans forward slightly, her long midnight black hair spilling over her shoulders, the length gathering in her lap. Her golden oculi holds Melinoë in their hard gaze. A hint of a smile on her blue-black lips, the ghost of amusement in her voice that is pulling away from the machine-deepness of the Reapers. “As I literally cannot leave this chair until it is done with me.”

She feels Melinoë sinks her hands into her long hair and pulls her down for a kiss, teal staring against black as it deepens, a hunger amplified by the particles of spice. Nemesis feels her hands move down her chest, moving so that her arms then wrapped around the mechanisms of her waist. Even without the use of her body, Nemesis tries to devour her, craves the way the chthonic goddess’s mouth feels against her.

When Melinoë pulls away from her, those teal lips form an impish smile. “I rather like you like this, Nem.” Before the machine-goddess could reply, she is pulled into a another kiss, deeper than the last. Melinoë shifts her form and begins to leave teal lipstick markings all over Nemesis’s face and machine body. The feeling of her flesh pressing against her form tests all of Retribution’s self-control.

“Of course you do,” Nemesis manages to utter just as Melinoë claims her lips again with another kiss.

[malvoile]

Hiiii beautiful....... can't believe that the celebrity author of matd has her asks open... 🤭🤭🤭

eeeeeeee hiiii cutie!! im here to chat and giggle with you (and not cry. we’re not doomed🤗)

[authorofemotion]

soooooo tired of people contacting me. please do not

[joongdunking]

Since when does Dunk says good night in his comments.....

And saying the I in front of love you makes it crazier?????

When we all know these voice messages aren't for us???

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

your “sentimonsters vs tropes” post made me realize how sentimonsters don’t work as a metaphor for marginalized people despite what other people say, because even if it was intentional, the show doesn’t acknowledge the fact that the majority of them get killed by the heroes, including Adrien and Felix (who are part of their race). Honestly, it makes me wonder if Miraculous ever did some sort of allegory right at all

(Post in question)

Before we get into it, I wanted to quickly define allegory in case that's a new or forgotten term for anyone as it's hardly common parlance:

An allegory is a narrative or visual representation in which a character, place, or event can be interpreted to represent a meaning with moral or political significance. Authors have used allegory throughout history in all forms of art to illustrate or convey complex ideas and concepts in ways that are comprehensible or striking to its viewers, readers, or listeners.

In the linked post, I chastised canon for not using the sentikids to say anything about personhood or self worth. While I stand by that, I will also give canon credit for the fact that sentimonsters as a race are not presented as a clear allegory for anything. The sentimonsters that weren't meant to be equal to humans are just worthless akuma knockoffs created to act as canon fodder. The human-equivalent sentimonsters are basically perfect humans who happen to have remote controls. You are never supposed to think about the implications of that frankly bizarre difference. There is not meant to be a deeper message and that's the right call because, when you look at the setup we just went over, you quickly realize canon didn't set itself up to make the sentimonster race an allegory for anything but eugenics.

While you can argue that canon is eugenics apologia, that is very clearly not intentional. I don't worry about kids walking away thinking eugenics are good because you only get that as a takeaway if you're actively searching for a message in canon's writing. There is no on-screen discussion of which sentimonsters are okay to kill or any other type of blatant allegory for eugenics. If eugenics = good is the intended message, then it's incredibly subtle.

While plot-level* allegory can be subtle, that tends to be rare in family-oriented media as the point of allegory is to convey a message. If no one is picking up on the message, then you've failed to make your point. That's why no one is watching Zootopia or Elemental and walking away asking, "Huh, I wonder what that film was trying to teach kids?"

Miraculous doesn't have anything that stands out as a clear allegory like I'd expect if the intent was to use allegory to teach kids something. I'd normally say that means there was no intentional allegory in the show, but we have straight up insane statements from the writers like this one about the season five final:

In the next scene, we can see Marinette taking the miraculous that have been standardized and industrialized by Gabriel and putting them back in shape. The writers specify that this is a parable about craftsmanship vs industrial production. The miraculous will now be adapted to every person, but we can’t see what they look like just yet! In this new world, the powers are all shared, among people who they trust and know will work for the common good.

Did anyone get this from the show? I certainly didn't. With the writers making statements like this, who even knows what messages they're trying to send. Between this and the reveal that Lila learned about Gabriel by reading Nathalie's lips in the season four final, I've given up trying to figure out what these loons are doing with their wacky storytelling. It's always fascinating to hear them talk about the story they think they've told versus what the average viewer came away thinking. I have never once seen a fan get the Lila thing. Everyone I've seen thought she was just evilly enjoying Nathalie's suffering, but it's pretty clear that the writers are quite proud of this and think it was a great choice! You know what would have been an even better choice? Letting Lila read lips at any point before or even after that scene to establish this is a skill she has. That's basic setup and payoff! Storytelling 101!

*As a quick clarification, when I said "plot-level allegory" that was me trying to find a term to convey the sort of high-level, in-your-face allegory writers use when actively trying to clearly convey a message to the audience. There are lots of works that have no obvious allegory, but actually contain subtle allegory for those who enjoy analysis or a select group that's in the know. Something the author had fun playing with, but doesn't expect the audience to get.

An example of more subtle allegory that comes to mind is The Little Mermaid. There are many valid queer readings of both the original story and the popular Disney film, especially since the book was written by an openly bisexual man after a man he loved got engaged to a woman and one of the movie's producers/major creative influences was an openly gay man. These fact have lead many to argue that the stories were always meant to be about queer acceptance on some level as opposed to the stories simply being ones that can be used to discuss that topic in spite of the author never intending that. (Which doesn't invalidate the value of a reading, btw. As far as I'm concerned, author intentionality only matters in very specific types of discussion. Most of the time, I'm a death-of-the-author girl.)

However, even if the two works are meant to be an allegory for acceptance of "alternate" sexuality, you'd be hard pressed to argue that the allegory is presented in a way that the average viewer is going to get. Everyone gets that Zootopia is all about prejudice being bad. I generally hear Disney's The Little Mermaid described as a silly fairy tale about "a girl giving up everything for a man" even though that's only true for the original story.

[doppelneer]

I'm working on notes, but I feel like this drawing looks nice on its own, so here ✨️

Idk what possesses me when I do pen and ink shading fr, but whatever it is, it's 🔥

[moleshow]

the 2020s political argument for unionization is that the only activity/location that rivals the phone in terms of time spent is the workplace. once they clock out they are lost to phone

[getmearedbull]

this is the shit john lennon was talking about in imagine

[oldxenomorph]

headcanon + family

headcanon + word prompts

Nyx returns from her shift in the Underworld to find the Emperor still sleeping soundly. The soft comforts of their bed cradle the great entity's body, allowing her to sink into the black-violet silk that has recorded their lovemaking in every thread. Her large tentacles remain spread out, hanging over the sides, curling onto the floor, inert and fatigued.

Even in the dark of their chambers, Nyx can still see the violet lipstick markings she left all over her wife's body. Starlight eyes travel the entirety of the Emperor's form, listening to the way it sings even in sleep. The Night listens to all the new daughters within Extinction, her core filled with glittering black ichor being processed by her black tar. As she takes off her ornamentation and lets down her hair, she cannot help but smile as she hears the joy, the happiness in the sound from within her wife and in the thrum of violet darkness that envelopes her.

Nyx slips into their bed and the Emperor stirs into a half-asleep state, adjusting her body to rest on its side, creating space for the goddess to fit next to her. Their bodies always fit perfectly next to each other, made to fit within one another. The Emperor lazily rests her arm on the inward curve of Nyx's hip, her tail curling around the goddess's ankle, pleased that she is here with her in bed, that she has returned to her safely once again.

Pale, slender fingers gently push back strands of vantablack hair, revealing the face of Extinction. Nyx gently touches the brutal scarification that deeply marks upon the Emperor's beautiful and severe visage. Every point is an extinction event, it is a map of death, it is the history of the universe told along its deep lines.

"I hope I did not wear you out too much last night," the goddess says, her ethereal voice whisper-soft.

"If I sleep for the rest of the day, I'll be ready again by tonight," the Emperor replies, her cold, machine-deep voice as low as it can be.

Nyx gently caresses her wife's face; the hollows of her cheeks, her temples, smoothing back her beautiful black hair so that nothing is hidden from her. The repetitive motions are as soothing to her as they are to the Emperor. She studies the way her wife rests, the serenity of her expression, the lines that define the face she loves to kiss, the mouth she loves to feed, the eyes that look at her in admiration and adoration. The Night knows that Extinction's dreams are sweet because she knows she dreams of her, their lovemaking endless, unending.

In the quiet of these moments, Nyx thinks about the family they have made in such a short time since their reunification and ascension. After eight million years, they've made their dreams come true. A pantheon of relatives that worship them and love them, the Great Family honoring her as the Night, as Empress. A domain that is shaped by their love and needs, thousands of servitors to care for their realm. The thousands of beautiful and violent daughters, made form both of their materials, made from their eternal love.

Things that the Underworld has never given her.

It is also in these quiet moments that Nyx internally resents still being attached to the dreadful domain beneath the earth. She thinks about the children born from her own negative emotions, her frustrations. She thinks about the bitterness and anger and sadness that still lingers in the dark of her soul, in the dark of her heart. And yet she also thinks about the children she created during those rare moments of content like the twins Death and Sleep.

She thinks about Nemesis, shaped to be their first daughter, loved as their first daughter. She thinks about happy Nemesis is now as a machine-goddess. This is how things should have been from the beginning.

As if sensing her thoughts, the Emperor takes Nyx’s hand in hers and brings it to her black lips, placing soft kisses on her palm and wrist. Tensions rooted in her recollections of the past are banished with every blessing, every kiss that worships her skin, her beauty, her power. The great entity leans into Nyx’s touch, into the kisses-blessed palm that cups her scarred cheek, the thumb that traces the curve of her bottom lip.

"You always take such good care of me,” the Emperor says, her machine-deep voice full of love.

Her eyes are open, red and black, the red glowing like the end of the all life-giving stars. Her eyes are the most beautiful visions of celestial death. Even when half-lidded from sleep and exhaustion, they are as intense as the incandescent starlight in Nyx's eyes.

The Night Incarnate kisses her wife sweetly, a tenderness she gives freely unto her. "I'll always take care of you," she replies. An eternal promise, like the one made during their wedding ceremony all those centuries ago. She hears the black hole in her wife's chest sing.

The Emperor wraps her tired tentacles around Nyx, bringing her closer until her body is flush against hers. Suddenly the goddess also begins to feel the pull of sleep, her body finally registering her need to rest. She closes her eyes and joins her wife in Unknown Kadath, where they resume their affections and lovemaking.

[malvoile]

Hi, good evening. What is your profile on ao3?

hi! here it is :)