It's Really Funny To See A Sci-fi Versus Debate Where Someone's Like "Well, This Franchise's Ships Are

Actually, even more wild is the number of TERFs looking at this post and thinking "This post agrees with me". I am literally asking for a space where people respect other peoples' gender identities. A person who defines their political stance on how they don't respect certain people's genders is not welcome in such a place.

Call it queer infighting, but I feel like a safe space for GNC people should not have people who insist that being GNC is a pipeline to being trans.

Reblogging because I crave attention.

Messaging people for the first time is so hard. What am I supposed to say? Like, "You seem really odd and your blog intrigues me. Do you want to have philosophical conversations or perhaps talk about fictional characters?" What! Whatever. I will just follow you back and stare at your blog with my big beautiful brown eyes.

Considering that one of the fundamental principles of BDSM is that it be safe, sane, and consensual, proper BDSM is, in fact, anathema to Slaanesh, and would therefore be encouraged by the Imperium of Man. In this essay I will

Memes about my homebrew chapter

The Emerald Wings

Life is unfair. That's why we should be.

The funny thing is they've basically got the opposite stance on FSM. One says they can't exist ever, because lore, one says they do exist and always have, because lore.

Yaoi? In my gayest sci-fi setting ever?

It's more likely than you think.

In the grim darkness of the future… there is only yaoi

Ironic that this would please the Emperor more than worshiping him would.

My character, Sister Catherine, of the order of the Valorous Heart. Or simply Cate to those who know her.

She needs an origin story.

A crisis of faith. She prays for guidance to Him on Earth. Surely he would not abandon one of His faithful in their hour of need?

She knelt in the chapel of the blessed Emperor. It was a place of calm and contemplation. Sisters came here to pray. But she was here now out of desperation. She needed Him to answer her, now more than at any time in her life.

"Holy Emperor, hear my prayer. I need your guidance. I have doubt. This has plagued me for months, years even. Please, help me. Guide me. Show me the path forward."

Her head was bowed, her hands clasped tightly together, praying, and hoping for a miracle. Something to relieve her of the doubt and the anguish she felt because of it. But she was only met with the silence of the empty chapel.

"You're not going to answer me, are you?" She said out loud.

She opened her tear stained eyes and looked up at the altar.

"You're not here, are you? You're on Terra, sitting on your golden throne."

She stared at the stained glass depiction of the Emperor. Magnificent in his golden armour, surrounded by the faithful, a halo of light above his head.

"You are not a god."

She half expected to be struck down there and then. Some bolt of unimaginable power incinerating her on the spot.

"The books my family died for, they were right. You are not a god. Written in your own hand, that is what my grandmother said. The inquisition killed them, burnt at the stake as heretics.."

She was only a child, but she remembered the fires. Her mother and grandmother were consumed by the flames. The inquisitor forced her to watch. A lesson, he had said.

"It is a lie. I have lived this lie my whole life. In the schola progenium, in my order. I have prayed to you, sang praises in your name. And I have killed, all in your name. How much blood must stain my hands because of you."

She cleansed her hands each day as instructed by scripture. Clean, pristine even. If she could see the blood, she imagined it would be of the deepest, darkest, red.

"And I am damned. For what can I do? If I confess my lack of faith, they will force me to be repentia, beating myself bloody until I see the light once again. Or worse. Locked in a machine and driven insane."

She had seen the penitent engines in battle. Wild, savage things. Their pilots lost to madness.

"If I run, the inquisition will hunt me. They will likely send my own sisters after me. There is no mercy for the heretic. Isn't that what you teach?"

She knew the tortures an inquisitor could inflict first hand. Both physical and mental. She would not let that be her fate.

"Must I die for you then? Is that my only choice? Or turn to the foulness of the warp. Must that be my salvation? What vile corruption would I have to endure."

She thought about the chaos tainted cultists she had fought in the past. Barely recognisable as even human anymore. Chanting dirges to their dark gods.

"No. I would rather turn my bolt gun on myself. If you are not a god, then neither are they. The creatures of the warp will not have me. I deny them. As I deny you."

The blasphemy she spoke. She would have killed someone outright if they had spoken like this to her. Now she speaks it herself. In his own chapel, no less.

"We go to war soon. Another crusade in your name. Do you know why? Do you even care?"

In the battles ahead, how many were going to die? How many deaths would she be responsible for? All for a lie. Maybe being condemned to a penitent engine would be a blessing. They at least did not struggle with faith.

"I still have my sisters. I depend on them, as they depend on me. They will be my faith from now on, my shield. I will fight for them."

She stood. She would have to lie to her sisters and convince them her faith is strong and beyond question. What choice did she have?

The Emperor is not a god.

A simple statement, yet so powerful it could condemn an entire world. What could it do to one sister of battle?

He's too pretty for helmets.

Sanguinius I love you but where the fuck is your helmet 😭

That model is still less gay than the original Dark Angels.

"yoU'rE PAiNtInG tHEm WroNG"

Get fucked, loser.