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please reblog this if it's okay for me to just pop into your ask box to RP with you even if you haven't reblogged a meme because I just want to RP with you

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Source: https://messiahcide.deviantart.com/art/Imperial-Fleets-676764705

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Blade Runner (1982) - Flying future

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So how have all of your days been?

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Halo: Escape from Reach - by Leonid Kozienko

“Another moment from Halo story with UNSC “Pillar of Autumn”, the only survivor of Covenant’s attack on Reach.

From technical point, the challenge was to depict a realistic orbital shot while meeting the requirements of a storybook illustration and layout design as well as i343 expectations. Due to 6k native resolution, a lot of time was spent on detailing, including ships, debris and surface below. Fortunately, the printing quality was able to capture all these tiny bits.”

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LUPITA NYONG'O in Tom Ford at the 2018 Governors Awards

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sometimes i really love my fics. i wrote that because i wanted to read it. i love it. nobody visits my fics more than me. they remind me that i’m a hard worker, that i created something. it’s mine and i cherish it and love it because it’s exactly what i wanted so i made it.

and other days i’m crippled by self criticism and hate everything and can’t bear to look at my own work because i know it’ll never compare to the greats

but i live for the days i love my work. because it’s mine, and i made it. i didn’t wait for somebody else to make what i dream about. i went and did it myself.

so don’t feel like your work is awful

it’s the stuff you dreamed about. it’s the stuff you decided to make a reality. it’s not about quality, or poetry, or how perfectly your sculpt your words or keep it so deeply in character; because it’s what you dreamed and it’s what you wanted to see, so you made it.

keep writing; it’s yours, and you made it. and if you want to continue to sharpen and improve yourself? then do it. it’s all yours and you can make it whatever you want.

keep writing.

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Submissive or Dominant? Monogamy or Polyamory? Clothes on or Clothes off?

 “I don’t think I’m either submissive or dominant, really. I can play at both if my partner might wish me to, but if the decision was up to me… suffice it to say, I prefer bedding equals. Not only do I feel a lot less dirty afterwards, but celebrating pain or dominance or submission or what-have-you is not for me. At best, it seems uncomfortable and at worst I burst into laughter halfway through.”

“Polyamory, by lengths. It is what I am more familiar with and I only very rarely end up falling hard enough for one person that I - and that will sound horrible, but I do not know how else to put it - need nobody else. For a good chunk of my life, I had a circle of close friends that I’d end up in bed with on a regular occasion and… that was sort of that? I don’t think I am very romantically inclined, or maybe I wasn’t back then. Now… hm. Now that I’m thinking about it, I might have to retract my earlier statement. I don’t seem to fall in love very often, nor for that matter form committed romantic or even sexual relationships on the regular. I’m not saying that I don’t do it at all, but… well. It’s rare and the last time it happened, it didn’t go very well - which doesn’t precisely fill me with confidence for the next time!”

“Either’s good, I’d say. There are undoubtedly times when removing all clothing is too much work and there are also times when removing all clothing is part of the fun. If I had to pick one - clothes off, I suppose? It gives both partners a little more to play with, though I wouldn’t want to miss the hastier variants that leave most, if not all clothing at least halfway in place either.”

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Public Edging or Filming in the Bedroom?

“Oof. Depends - there are situation where I can see the latter being exceedingly useful. It would unsettle most people, after all, and especially when used to prove dominance and enough social power over whoever has to put up with it, it might do very well. Wouldn’t make me friends, mind, but given that filming some sort of act strikes me as a vague security risk… then again, if I apply that metric, so is the other. Still, the public one strikes me has having two uses instead of one - a clear enough answer in itself, I think.”

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in-chains-broken‌:

He nods to her concerns, then regrets it a little. His head is throbbing, and the motion exacerbates the pain. It’s a fleeting concern, given the weight of the situation.

“If you prefer, ma’am, I c-can… I c-can not mention you at all. Honestly I… I don’t think they’d believe me if I d-did…” And that’s another shudder of fear. He can hear her voice in his head, flat and angry saying I don’t believe you. and he has to wrench his thoughts away from the memories of what happens next when she thinks he’s lying.

It is better than nothing. She will have to trust him on this one way or another - unless she puts her foot down and sees what shakes out if she takes matters in her own hands, whatever happens is very firmly in his. Is that enough? More importantly: If she thinks it isn’t, can she bring herself to do something about it?

Yes, that is definitely a headache she is currently experiencing. At least there is one thing she can be absolutely sure about. Then again, if his handlers - or owners - decide to look into things... ah, saints. She might as well ask. Chances are she’ll get an answer, and probably a honest one too.

“Do you think it’s likely that they’d try to retrace your steps? We undoubtedly have been seen together by a wide variety of people and I am assuming that your handlers - or their superiors - wouldn’t have a very hard time putting a name to my face.” Nor would anyone else, really. The coat of arms sewn onto her coat is a good start, as are the uniforms and the fact that a rogue trader’s arrival never goes unnoticed.

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kellancallic‌:

“I imagine so. And I also imagine that you want this to be a partnership of equals and not simply me making a hostile takeover. In which case I can assure you our children with be Galliarde-Callic. Except for one. I have a son of my own back home on Harakon. My only child as it stands.” Kellan said.

He sounded remorseful about his son. Not that he had one, but because Kellan was all too aware of the sins he had weighing him down when it came to Kaltos.

“Nonetheless, I’d like to see what you want out of this first.”

So if he already had an heir, why did he need - unless he wanted spares. He probably wanted spares, or worse: a family, at least if she went by his tone. Wasn’t that awkward: He wanted a joint operation of sorts, but he already had an heir.

...and there was the headache. She had been waiting for that. “I - well, I will admit that the danger of a hostile take-over has crossed my mind. As much as I value your word, if - if - we go through with this undertaking, I’d prefer a wedding contract that has been revised by both ourselves and our seneschals, secretaries or assorted adepts often enough to have become tedious.”

She tapped her glass against her thigh for a moment before apparently coming to a decision, shaking her head at somebody or something and giving a brief, wry smile: “That said, I’d say we should probably take another step back before we delve into that discussion. You might have noticed that we... occasionally struggle to communicate a little. I’d prefer to settle that as much as we can, as it strikes me less likely that either of us unilaterally breaks off our little agreement that way.”

Enemies and Alliances

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House Delaque.

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Vigilus Victorious.

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Vetinari gave him a look that did not actually employ a raised eyebrow but which implied that one might be forthcoming if the recipient of the look pushed his luck.

Raising Steam, by Terry Pratchett (via knitmeapony)

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in-chains-broken‌:

Surprise again. Surprise that she has more confidence in his obedience than he does. Surprise that she would prefer him not to be punished. (Fear coils nauseous in his gut. It is only the immediate punishment of Cav’s guilty anger that she could defend him from, and that is not the one that terrifies him.) Tears sting afresh, but he steadies his thoughts and they do not fall.

“Thank you, ma'am. But… I d-don’t think you c-can be blamed…” Hesitation. How dare he presume to make a moral judgement? But he presumes he ought to finish the thought, having started it. “I, I mean I… chose t-to, to run. I d-don’t know how long I’d… I’d have taken to c-come to my senses, on my own.” He supposes that he would have eventually. Probably not more than an hour or two. What a miserable thought.

And then it occurs to him what leading her back to the others would entail, and the thought is pain. A hard enough reprimand that he can’t quite suppress the flinch. His breath catches and there is a hint of an involuntary twitch. He bites the sides of his tongue to keep from gagging. Bites too hard, tastes blood. “You, ah, you n-needn’t spend any more of your t-time on me. Ma’am.” he manages a little tremulously. Stupid thing, he curses internally. Why don’t you care at all about my intentions? And why do you have to make it harder for me to do what you want? I can’t think straight like this!

That might have been the wrong thing to say again, but he stays - well, present. Maybe that is a good way to classify it: presence and absence... though it matters little now, does it. She resists the urge to rub at her forehead, if barely. The headache has been building so steadily and slowly, she hasn’t really noticed it - but then she is used to the steady thrum of pressure in her skull and to functioning despite it. Good enough.

He declares her innocent at his expense and she finds the slight smile overtaking her despite better knowledge, though it drops quickly enough. It is a sobering thought that she still can see herself in him - or him in herself? Now there is something she doesn’t feel like contemplating. Instead she makes to open her mouth and answer, but his twitch forestalls that thought. Her eyebrows rise as doubt mounts. Very well. If the thought unsettles him this much -

But now she is thinking about him not returning to his handlers. Just because he strikes her as fundamentally honest doesn’t mean he has to be. Half guiltily, she welcomes the doubt: Something else to put distance between them. “I... would hate to find that I end up blamed for something that I haven’t done”, she says, slowly enough that it shows that she is weighing every word. “That said, I am more than happy to offer my help, but I will not force it on you. I cannot fully judge the weight of your sins, I fully admit that, and so I have to err on the side of caution. Can I trust that you will do nothing that would lead to your handlers - or their superiors - darkening my doorstep?”

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in-chains-broken‌:

He feels a powerful rush of relief. If she’s not opposed to his going back, she probably doesn’t intend to execute him. It’s short-lived, the paranoid chatter of his thoughts rapidly suggesting scenarios where this doesn’t work out well, and chiming in with but when we get back to the- No. None of that. Breathe. Stay in the moment. What is she suggesting? And why, still, would she care for his input on it… There’s another flare in the implant-induced headache. But he has his breathing under control now, almost has his head in the game, even. Pain is ignorable.

“I… I wouldn’t presume to have a-an opinion on what you should d-do, ma’am,” he tells her carefully. “I c-can understand why you wouldn’t trust me t-to… to take myself back.” He isn’t sure he trusts himself. A frightened impulse still says he should flee as fast and far as possible and pray that the idiots in charge of him somehow can’t find him to drag him back to- No. Breathe.

Oh saints. He is everything she is primed to respond to - polite, aware of his station and of hers, well-mannered, friendly, submissive but not ingratiating - but he is also a heretic, if a one (apparently) desperately trying to atone. Then again, if all of this is an act... not even her seneschal is that good of an actor. She can all but feel her emotions being dragged into opposing directions: It is so easy to be fond of him, but she cannot unknow what he has done and with that comes the crawling terror of being at the mercy of the daemonic again. So far she’s always gotten out of those close calls relatively unscathed, but she is well aware that that luck will eventually run out - and then what will she do? (And worse, what will become of her crew?)

This terror stays at the back of her mind as she looks at him, even as she wants to tell him that she could help him. That it would be in fact easy, if not without its risks - but there is a middle road to be found, always, a way around obstacles and so she takes a deep breath. Might as well try. (Right?) He seems better now - she almost smiles, bites it back just in time and clears her throat in embarrassment. “I don’t think you’ll run away, Trinton. It’s just - I don’t want you punished for something I did. Being far away from my home is no excuse not to act with at least a modicum of honour.”