#the whites are consistent and so are the blacks

[c1trvswurld]

Sorry but Co opting this post for a bit, but I was reading the notes (rarely ever do and I should keep to that) But I find it so interesting whenever you ask people to expand their taste and broaden their horizons especially for a genre as scrutinized as rap due to years and years of racism and puritanical beliefs, hell even give them a Playlist of various artist to start and enjoy with different styles and subcultures, you will still get people complaining. Same old things, too

*Mentioning how rap fans are too pushy.

*Still complaining about how hard it is to find good stuff despite it being directly handed to you on a plate

*Consistently going "sure but rap is really violent and scary and curses a lot" meanwhile going back to blast your speed core vocaloid song about the erotic nature of cannibalism or some shit

*Or my favorite is to deliberately only acknowledge white or white passing rappers and deem other rappers as untalented

Because in truth we aren't even asking yall to "like rap" or even tolerate it. We just want yall to understand the artists and craft behind a genre so rooted in black culture and politics. How it tells stories about our killed activists and growing pains, reflects our riots. But it's that fear and complacency that will always plauge these conversations. Even when people reach a habit put first. I beg yall to learn by be uncomfortable once in a while.

Okay now that you guys have liked Lil Nas X, Megan thee Stallion, Kendrick Lamar AND Doechii. Surely you can listen to rap now. Surely you see the merits of the genre. Surely.

[hadesoftheladies]

as much as i enjoyed the kendrick lamar performance, i was not hyped to see only male dancers forming the flag. there is a consistent tradition of black liberation movements (not just in the US) refusing to acknowledge the suffering of black women. black women were enslaved, too. black women had their backs whipped, too. black women suffered violence from white men, white women and their own men. black women were bred like cattle to produce more slaves for the white men. black women died in that process. horribly. they were raped, tortured and chained to the whipping post. black women never stopped bleeding for that flag.

i'm so fucking sick of men acting like they're the only casualties of war and that they built countries off their sacrifice alone. "our founding fathers" headass. your grandma and great grandma died for your civic rights you ungrateful fucking cretins.

punks, the lot of them.

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Jaroslav Cermak (Czech, 1831-1878) Montenegrin Women in a Harem, 1877 National Gallery Prague Slavery gave rise to the figure of the Odalisque, that is the beautiful, white slave girl, a figure of quintessential beauty. In the late 18th century Johann Friedrich Blumenbach, the father of physical anthropology, the father of scientific anthropology, an 18th century German scholar, assigned the name Caucasian to the people living in western Europe, to the River Ob in Russia to northern Africa, and to India. He called the people in Europe, over to India, well into Russia and North Africa, Caucasians because they were the most beautiful in the world. Blumenbach enjoyed a scholarly reputation that gave his designation enormous heft and it got picked up very quickly. Immanuel Kant stated that the Caucasians, the Georgians, the Circassians, sell their children, particularly their girls to the Turks, the Arabs, and the Persians, for reasons of eugenics, that is, to beautify the race. Before the Atlantic slave trade to the western hemisphere shaped our ideas about what slave trades are all about, there was slave trade from this part of the world, that goes back to before the reaches of time. Herodotus writing in the fifth century BC, writing about the enumeration of taxes and tributes paid to the Persian kingdom, collected from the lands it had controlled and the lands even far away in the distance. He said that the voluntary contribution was taken from the Colchians, that is the Georgians, and the neighboring tribes between them and the Caucasus, and it consisted of and still consists of (that is in the 5th century BC) every fourth year 100 boys and 100 girls. This was before Herodotus could even see the beginnings of it. Herodotus also mentioned the tribute from the southern most part of the edges of the Persian world and that was for the people called Ethiopians, what they owed was gold and ivory, people were not mentioned. So, the Black Sea Slave trade was the slave trade in the western world until the 15th century when the Ottomans captured Constantinople and cut the Black Sea off from western Europe. At that point, 15th century, the Atlantic slave trade becomes the western slave trade. Daniel Edward Clarke, our Cambridge don, also located Circassian beauty, in the enslaved. “The Cicassians frequently sell their children to strangers, particularly to Persians and Turkish Seraglios.” He speaks of one particular Circassian female who was 14, who was conscious of her great beauty, who feared her parents would sell her according to the custom of the country. The beautiful young slave girl became a figure, and she had a name; Odalisque. She combines the powerful notions of beauty, sex, and slavery. Ingres, Jerome, Powers and Matisse specialized in Odalisque paintings. The figure of the Odalisque faded from memory as the Black Sea slave trade ended in the late 19th century, and the Atlantic slave trade overshadowed that from the Black Sea. Today, the word slavery invariably leads to people of African descent. Americans seldom associate the word Odalisque with with slavery in the Americas. Today many American painters use Odalisque figures, Michalene Thomas for instance who has done a series of what she calls American Odalisque. But the phrase and the figure of the Odalisque has lost its association with slavery. And now in American art history and in contemporary American art, Odalisque simply refers to a beautiful woman, usually unclothed. If you want to learn more, listen to professor Nell Painter of Princeton University in the YT lecture “Why White People are Called Caucasian.”

[call-sign-shark]

Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!You || The Darkling x HeartrenderOC!Reader

Summary: Here comes the day of your demonstration at the King's Court. Here comes the day General Kirigan cannot take it anymore, his self-control snapping. Here comes the day that will seal your fate and change everything.

Words: 6k.

TW: Misogyny, unhealthy relationship, very deep codependency, extreme pinning, sexual undertone, mention of prostitution and abuse, fluff -- your heart won't handle it. || Happy Happy Valentine's Day to you ♥ (a bit too early but who cares?)

Part VII - Blood and Honey

Previous || Masterlist || Next

If the Little Palace was extraordinary for a Ketterdam girl like you, it was nothing compared to the King’s place, which loomed large before you with its golden spires catching the late morning sun. You stepped out of the carriage behind General Kirigan, his gloved hand helping you with the step. 

You were barely out when two servants, both wearing a white kefta with gold embroidery just like Genya’s, walked toward you.

“What the hell do they want?” You growled, your wariness palpable.

Aleksander couldn’t help but let out a discreet snort at your disconcerting but truly irresistible lack of care for decorum. His hand gently squeezed yours – he had kept holding it – in order to ease the obvious tension that was creeping under your skin.

“I have to exchange a few words with the King before your encounter with him, so you must follow these two. They will lead you to a room, you’ll put on the outfit Genya made for you and then you’ll join me in the ballroom.” He explained with a graceful simplicity, his coal black eyes diving into your crystal irises, as they always did whenever he talked to you. 

As much as you disliked the idea of being left alone in that place with strangers, you agreed with a brief shrug, only because you didn’t want to come off ungrateful and cause a scene. Without complaint of any sort, you turned your heel to leave but Kirigan’s grip closed more firmly around you, causing you to look at him with surprise from above your shoulder. He slowly parted his lips to speak and his voice, though low and commanding, carried much more affection than what it seemed.

“Come back to me soon.”  The words left his lips like a vow, whispered in an almost urgent tone that sent shivers down your spine. It wasn’t just a request, it was a plea, as though the mere thought of you being out of his sight for too long was unbearable. You briefly nodded in reply, oddly shaken by his intensity, and followed the servants, feeling his scorching gaze burning on your back. Waiting, watching, wanting.

“Here. Just leave the room when you’re ready.” One of the two Grisha, with short hair and an adorable gap between her front teeth, said.

As the General had explained, you had been brought to a private chamber. It was a room bathed in the warm golden light of the sun coming through the silk curtains. In the corner, a full-length mirror stood, its surface gleaming like a quiet pool. Just like the rest of the Palace, the bedroom was richly decorated – certainly a bit too much to your liking.

Alright, you thought. You quickly took the heavy package Genya had given you earlier out of your bag and carefully unfolded the fabric that protected her creation. Once it was entirely revealed, lain across the mattress, your jaw dropped. 

The outfit consisted of a criss-cross top and a long straight skirt, both made of several layers of white sheer chiffon that seemed to catch the light and glow softly – as if Genya had sprinkled the fabric with diamond dust. Though simple, the two created a delicate, hypnotizing dress. However, it was admittedly a bit more revealing than what you had expected and it reminded you of the exotic gears Tante Heleen forced you to wear back then. You repressed a retch and kept your mind from spiraling by grazing the fabric. The delicate feeling of the garment when you ran your fingers over it even managed to make your lips curl in a faint smile. That was okay, you had worn much skimpier outfits for much shadier businesses. You slipped into it, your excitement sweeping bad memories off. 

The gown clung to your frame like a second skin, the translucent layers cascading around your hips like a waterfall of moonlight and bringing out your hourglass figure. Yet, it wasn’t the dress that was the most mesmerizing part of the outfit but what came with it.

A corset. Not a simple, leather corset but rather a masterpiece of gilded artistry. In fact, the frame was meticulously crafted in a ribcage shape made of gold. Each bone seemed to shimmer under the light, casting a warm and radiant glow against your diaphanous skin. You breathed an amazed “wow” at how it had turned the soft dress into an appealing and slightly eerie outfit tailored not for a human being, but for a Saint. For sure, the girl who had walked into that room was now gone, replaced by an ethereal creature who exuded both grace and power. The reflection that stared back at you in the middle, for once, didn’t seem foreign or broken. 

You slipped one of your long white locks of hair behind your ear and left the room, carefully closing the door behind you.

“Bring me to the King’s court, please.” You asked the servants and they obliged.

Chin up, dignity on, you repeated in your mind as a way to keep yourself quiet despite your heart hammering in your chest faster and faster at each step that brought you closer to the ballroom. You knew far too well that if you didn’t focus on something, you’d start to overthink and probably chicken out. Maybe that was why you passed through the heavy gates without giving it a second thought.

When you stepped into the King’s Court the room fell silent. 

Aleksander Kirigan stood in front of you, just at the end of the few steps that led to the throne. Imposing as always, he was dressed in his usual dark attire that created a stark contrast to the sea of vibrant colors around him. His ink-black eyes locked onto your frame when you entered and, for a heartbeat, the world came to a halt for him. A maelstrom of emotions washed over him at the sight, even though it manifested as a light, dreamy smile that curved his lips, as well as a flicker of genuine fascination that burnt bright in his irises. He had seen you in many forms – vulnerable as a kitten, fierce as a tiger, wary as a cornered wild animal, peaceful as a cat when you slept– but tonight, you were something else entirely and that new facet of you fanned the flames of his all-consuming desire. A surge of electricity ran through his body as he watched the way your dress seemed to float around you as you moved, while the unsettling gilded corset shone as a reflection of a strength even he couldn’t tame. Both beguiled and enamored, General Kirigan couldn’t look away for the life of his. The world could have crumbled all around him that he wouldn’t have noticed. Your ethereal beauty was everything he could pay attention to. You were a walking paradox, he thought, a living embodiment of light and shadow that only he could sublimate. That only he could own… 

One step after the other, Hev.

The grandeur of the hall was overwhelming – its vaulted ceiling adorned with crystal chandeliers refracting light into a thousand tiny rainbows. In that vast room, courtiers and other important figures of the Ravkan government were standing near the walls, their faces a blur of curiosity and awe at the sight of you: they might all live in the most disgusting luxury you had ever known, it still seemed pale in comparison with your spellbinding silhouette standing in the middle of them, fierce and unafraid. 

Your eyes were drawn to the dais where King Pyotr and his Queen sat, their presence commanding the room and yet, even their usually unimpressed faces seemed to turn into a curious but slightly fazed frown. But rather than focusing on them, you did the only thing you knew would keep you reassured: quickly surveying the room to find the General and keeping your attention on him and only him. 

Here.

Your breath hitched at the weight of his gaze, the intensity of it piercing through you. You held your head high, the ribcage corset lending you an air of defiance, but beneath the layers of chiffon and gold, your heart raced like a thousand horses. The faint sound of the crowd murmuring among themselves couldn’t reach you over the thunder in your tight chest. And to be fair, had your heart been quieter you still would have been only aware of Kirigan’s eyes – eyes which shone brighter as you approached him. The King and the Queen themselves exchanged a few glances, the tension between the General and you palpable, but you didn’t notice it for your focus solely remained on the man who had been your savior, your anchor, your haunting desire and, now, something you couldn’t yet name. Something deeper. An evidence, perhaps.

As you reached Kirigan’s side, the light of the chandeliers caught your long ivory mane, making it shimmer like starlight.

“You are…” Aleksander started, his onyx eyes falling onto your body and lingering there a bit too long to be devoid of lust. Then, his eyes bore into yours again, “Dazzling.” 

“Thank you, my General.” You replied with a tender smile, the softness in your irises betraying how delighted you were to be reunited with him again. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t stand to be kept away for too long.

King Pyotr cleared his throat, growing bored of being ignored. Sitting at the far end of the hall, he was draped in a luxurious uniform, his crown gleaming on top of his thinning grey hair. Slouched down on his throne with his legs spread and his protuberant belly pressed down on his tight shirt, his eyes sparked with curiosity and skepticism as he appraised you. Beside him, the Queen wasn’t more welcoming. Surrounded by a few nobles who whispered, her gaze was undeniably sharp and judgmental. You couldn’t hear what they said but you were pretty sure they were laughing about you.

“General Kirigan,” The King interjected, his voice dripping with condescension, “You bring us a curious guest. Though I reckon she is… Interesting.”  

You didn’t know what he meant by interesting but the way he had said it didn’t please you. At all. 

Aleksander reluctantly turned to face the King before inclining his head to show respect, “Your Majesty, I present you Heaven Lavey. A newcomer in the Little Palace and a Grisha of unparalleled ability. I have come to petition for her freedom.” 

A murmur rippled through the court, eyes narrowing and mouths curling in derision. It was a strange sight to see the cold and terrifying Black General advocating for someone. Especially someone like…You.

“Freedom”, The King repeated as if he had just spat a bone out of his fish dish, then he leaned forward, “I’ve heard that she used to work on her back…” A little, cruel smirk played on his thin lips at the lascivious insinuation, “I didn’t know the unyielding General of the Second Army loved to partake in such… Hobbies. And I didn’t know he would get as far as introducing a whore to my Court.”

You bristled at the word, your pupils retracting into two black dots lost in the vastness of your frozen irises, but Aleksander’s hand gently brushed your back as if he had sensed your anger and wished to calm you. A subtle reminder that you must hold your composure, even through the hurt.

“What she had to do to survive in the hands of cruel masters does not define her, Majesty. You shall believe me when I say that she deserved to be free.” 

“And why, pray tell, would this… creature merit such consideration?” He raised a brow, clearly enjoying how his little jabs stirred a laugh from both the Queen and his Court just like a bunch of hyenas would do when circling their future meal.

“She’s no mere Grisha,” Kirigan said louder, his voice carrying the quiet force of a storm and a bitterness that were enough to cut the gigglings short, “Her powers are unlike anything we’ve seen, a gift to Ravka that deserves recognition and respect. Majesty, I’ve come here to introduce you to a Sankta. A Saint that can turn Ravka into the most powerful nation of the world. A saint that can tip the balance of any war. The cure and the bane to everything.”  He spoke, with passion and belief so strong it bordered fanaticism.

A Saint?

The King laughed, a sharp bark that resounded through the hall but, this time, he was the only one to do so, “ A Sankta, you say? Those are bold words, General. But I have yet to see proof of such claims. Demonstrate, or this is nothing but empty promises.” Punctuating his diatribe with a little hand gesture, King Pyotr slouched back on his throne, unimpressed and waiting to be entertained.

Fucker, Kirigan thought but rather than glaring at the King, he turned to you and frowned. His gaze, steady and unreadable, blazed with determination. If anything, he seemed even more infuriated than you by the King’s way of treating you,  “Show them.” He said softly, despite the anger, with a low but encouraging order. 

Now that you were here, the whole Court’s eyes set on you and the King’s expectation weighing heavy upon his shoulders, failing the Black General wasn’t an option.

You hesitated, the significance of the moment pressing down on you. How could you demonstrate anything breathtaking when months ago you were still running barefoot in the forest, unable to control the most basic abilities of your Heartrender nature? How could you prove that you were the Sankta Aleksander thought you were while all your life you had just been nothing more than a pretty yet random sex slave? Your palms went moist, tingling with the familiar hum of power, but doubt and anxiety gnawed at the edges of your resolve. What if you failed? What if you proved him wrong? What if–

“I…” You began, your haunting voice faltering. At that very moment, all you wanted was to run away from the Grand Palace and curl up in a ball small enough, somewhere in the woods nearby, to blend with the trees’ roots.

“You’ve got this,” Aleksander said to put a stop to your inner rambling that plagued you before stepping closer and sliding behind you, smoothly. When he stood behind, with his athletic body straight and unbreakable, his ungloved hands gently came to rest on the naked skin of your waist. The unexpected and firm touch made you jump a little, but it was oddly comforting. His thumbs gently pressed against your side to steady you as his fingers curled slightly in a possessive but not overbearing grip. A little sigh escaped your lips when the warmth of his palms seeped through your skin and melted your panic away. “I want you to take a long inhale and feel me,” He murmured into your ear only for you to hear. His lips brushed your flesh and sent shivers down your spine, “Feel me inside of you…” Fire burned in your stomach, “And let my strength guide yours.” 

And suddenly clarity came back to your mind, cleared from the thick fog of anxiety. All that remained was the familiar attraction that constantly pulled you toward him, more vivid than it had ever been. His own power buzzed, thrummed through your veins, and ignited you as he discreetly amplified your abilities like a rising tide. His touch wasn’t just calming, it was devastatingly ecstatic.  Transcendent. Cataclysmic. His force melded with your own, his soul merging with yours, and for an instant Aleksander and you seemed to be the very same person. Your racing thoughts froze as his amplifying power wrapped around you, making you feel complete.

In a life where you had always felt like some important piece of you was missing, felt like you had always been incomplete not to say empty, it was here, in the King’s Court, that you realized that what had always been missing all this time was him. The Darkling.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment and inhaled longly, bracing yourself for the demonstration. The hum within you grew stronger, feeling like a myriad of burning particles moving fastly through every fiber of you as the General’s shadowy power intertwined with yours. When you opened your eyes again, their ice had vanished – they weren’t the same anymore. In fact, their frozen blue was now of a greyish hue while your sclera had darkened to a deep, crimson red. A red so dark it almost looked black. Faint veins appeared around your eyes, like somber branches on fresh fallen snow.

Now. Kirigan’s voice resounded within you, in a low, sensual growl.

Moving instinctively, you raised your hand slowly, fingers trembling a few seconds before steadying for good. A subtle shift in the air caught the Court’s attention, all eyes set on you, waiting for a miracle in an almost religious silence. A loud exhale escaped your lips and, suddenly, your power burst like an invisible rogue wave. With one sole flick of your wrist, the dozen of guards who were flanking the royal couple stiffed, their bodies deprived of control and their movements no longer their own. At the very same time, they turned their rifles and aimed at each other with a horrified look on their face, their trembling fingers hardly a few inches from pulling the trigger. Their life was hanging by a thin thread, one movement away from a bloodbath. 

A chorus of gasps and cries erupted as the nobles scrambled backward in fear at such a display of power. Aleksander’s fingers dug deeper into your flesh in reply, enough to make your whole being aware of his possessive grip.

But you weren’t done with them, not yet. With a movement of your other hand, the entire assembly felt their knees trembling under an unseen weight. One by one, they began to bow, knee dropping on the marble ground in a sea of loud thuds. The crowd that had once been a mighty ocean, threatening to swallow you, was soon reduced to a puddle of shaking bodies bent all around you.  Even King Pyotr, with his smug grin wiped from his pig’s face now twisted with shock, found himself lowering onto the ground. His protests, though loud, got lost in the cacophony of panicked squeals and sobs. Because they knew. They knew that all it would take for you to end their pathetic little life would be a single little gesture.

Your chest heaved at the divine sensation of untamable, unstoppable power.

‘Enough,” Aleksander whispered in your ear in a soft, sultry voice that echoed in your skull. 

You released your hold at his command with a shuddering breath, arm dropping. The tension in the room dissipated almost as instantly. The guards lowered their weapons and the Court stood on their feet again, their bodies still shaking and their faces, formerly mocking, ashen. Simultaneously, your irises switched to their usual color. As for the dark veins around your eyes, they faded away as if they never were.

The King, who had quickly got back to his throne, was gawking at you, “Impossible…” He breathed.

Aleksander’s lips curved into a barely visible predatory smirk at the frightened reactions, exhilarated by them. He could smell the acrid fragrances of their fear lingering in the grandiose ballroom as they all observed you, wary of your every move. As the royal couple slowly regained their composure, you could feel Kirigan’s hands slip away from your waist, depriving you of his warmth. However, he remained nearby, protective. 

“You see now, Your Majesty, the extent of her powers. And this was just a foretaste of what she’s capable of, apart from her enhanced Heartrender’s abilities.” He raised a brow, trying his best not to sound arrogant despite the pride he felt booming in his chest, “ But you shall believe my word about that matter. After all, we wouldn’t want to turn this whole room into a slaughterhouse, would we?” 

The King said nothing to that. Instead, his gaze flicked between the white-haired doll and the cursed Black General, not knowing if he should be afraid or in awe. For sure you could be a great asset for Ravka, but he also couldn’t help but ponder what kind of monster you were.

You dared a glance at Kirigan, your icy eyes gleaming with a mixture of gratitude and anxiety.

“That was, indeed, impressive.” The King finally spoke after a long, tense silence, “We will… consider your request, General.” 

“I trust you will make a reasonable decision, Sir.” 

That was all he said. Without waiting for any kind of official dismissal, Aleksander inclined his head briefly and turned his heels, already leading you toward the exit. His long black kefta swept behind him as he walked, like shadows dancing in his grim sillage. 

Watching the General and his little white devil leaving, the King found himself almost hypnotized by the sight of these two. They were surely a drastic contrast, one of them all tall and clad in darkness while the short creature that followed him with light steps, looked like she was made of light with her pale skin and her long white hair swinging left and right at her hips’ discretion. She was so delicate compared to him, her full, rose-tinted lips against his slightly chapped ones, her eyes so blinding when compared to the blackness of his, and her features indescribably seraphic contrary to his sharp traits. Yes, she almost seemed out of place under his austere wing and yet, no one could deny that it was exactly where she should be. Where she belonged.

The weight of countless stares bore down on them, witnessing the work of fate under their terrified eyes. Fate. Exactly. That was fate that bound them, they could all see it in the way they moved – as if they were one, with their steps perfectly synchronized. Their unity was magnetic, speaking volumes about the bond that tied them together. A bond that had not been voiced nor rendered official but that was standing out a mile. As they reached the doors, the King caught a glimpse of the faintest motion: The General’s fingers gently brushed toward the Heartrender’s in an ever-tender gesture.

When he blinked they were already gone, leaving  in their trail only the ghost of their dreadful power and a visceral unease he couldn’t shake.

The door of the guest room closed behind you after the General had gently guided you inside with his hand on the small of your back. A habit he had taken whenever you’d walk together – as though he was unable to keep his hands off you. 

Now that the adrenaline of the moment started to gradually wear off, your body trembled a bit, still not over the intense bond it had just experienced under the tall darkness’ touch. You carefully beheld him as he locked the door, his face unfathomable behind the veil of his sternness but his square shoulders visibly tensed. The fear of disappointing crept under your skin again, unsettled by his silence. 

“How was I?” You dared to ask with an unsure tone, your voice breaking the silence. 

At the sound of it, Aleksander closed his eyes for a brief instant and relished its soft lilt all the while remaining silent. “Was that enough?” You pressed, unaware that your voice sounded like an enchanting melody to his ears. 

Letting out a long exhale through his nostrils, General Kirigan finally headed back to you with his cat-like gait and stopped in front of you. Your considerable height difference struck out as he towered you. The shadow of his tall, athletic figure cast its darkness upon you, while the two black holes of his eyes seemed to study your face with great attention as if looking for something hidden in your angel traits. His expression slowly shifted, considerably softening at the sight of your irresistible pout — how could such a lethal and cold creature like you look so nymphet at the same time? 

Aleksander raised his hand and, tenderly, his fingers reached for your cheek.

“More than enough.” His sultry, powerful voice said quietly but despite the low volume, it echoed in your skull. However, doubts flashed briefly on your face.

“But you’re the one who did it, right?” You said carefully.

“No, I only gave you a little push. You’ll soon be able to do that by yourself with more training. Trust me, Heaven… You were… Perfect.”  The weight of his somber gaze, as somber as a starless night, held you captive. For the very first time since you met, there was no darkness in it now, no calculated intent. There only was a hurricane of howling emotions. After centuries of mastering restraints, manipulation, and cold elegance, he finally stood before you, stripped of all. 

His warm fingers brushed along your cheek with an unbearable gentleness, tracing the curve of your face as if memorizing it, fearing you were nothing but a dream that might disappear at any moment. A mirage in the desert of his loneliness. The calloused pad of his fingers shook slightly, betraying the devastating power of what he was feeling. Boom. Boom. Boom. The faint but rapid drums of his pulse reached your ears — for a brief instant you thought it was yours that pounced in your ribcage but soon realized that no, it was the General’s heart. He exhaled, a shuddering breath, and suddenly he almost looked fragile. About to crumble under your touch. 

“Where were you?” His voice was hoarse. Thick with a tone perilously close to grief. His thumb smoothed over your pale cheekbone as his eyes burned into yours, “Where were you all this time, Heaven?” Where were you when the shadow devoured me? When both pain and madness ran through my veins like shards of broken glass?

Your lips parted to say something but your voice got caught in your throat for there was something absolutely heart-shattering in the way he said your name, like a prayer filled with pleas, ache, and hope.

“No… Where were you?” The words escaped you before you realized it, your very soul speaking before your mind. 

His onyx eyes, usually two voids swallowing everything whole, now brimmed with something dangerously close to unshed tears. The pain of centuries pressed between you — all these empty years, all the longing that had never been met, all the sleepless nights of crying and hating… All came to an end today.

He leaned over you to bring his face closer.

Your breath hitched, your body tightening in response to the insufferable, suffocating pull that kept bringing you back to him. A pull that felt like barbwires wrapped around you: the further you were from him, the tighter the barbwires, as if their metallic knots were ripping your skin apart. And contrariwise, the physically closer, the more the barbwires loosened and the pain vanished. 

“This —“ He whispered, hesitating. The aftermath of what had happened in the ballroom still crackled in the air, the memory of your powers melting into each other. Now that he had tasted what it was to become one with you and be complete, the idea of being apart from you felt unendurable. And, frankly, it was. You felt it too: the impossibility of going back to the restraint that had defined these past months. The agony of pretending that what burned between you could be ignored, “This is unbearable. I can’t take it anymore.”

“So make it end, Aleksander.” 

Aleksander. 

His name fell from your lips, confidently. 

Aleksander. Your voice echoed in the shadows, each syllable melting as you claimed their ownership. A muscle twitched in his jaw at the sound of his name in your sinful mouth. It made something snap inside of him. His hand slid down to your throat, fingertips ghosting along the beat of your rapid pulse.

The Darkling gently pressed his forehead against yours and a quiet, breathless laugh fell from his lips — one that held no amusement, only disbelief. 

“My name. Say it again.” He murmured.

You exhaled sharply as the distance between your bodies faded away with every fleeting minute. Your hands lifted without a second thought, drawn to him just like the tide is pulled to the shore. One hand rested on his chest against the fine fabric of his back kefta, just where the fast, erratic thrum of his heart lied beneath. The other reached for his face, your thin fingers grazing the sharp line of his jaw the same sensual way his own hand had so reverently did to you moments ago. The scratch of his beard under your skin made your shiver.

Aleksander’s breath quickened and fanned against your mouth before mingling with yours. Neither of you moved away. Neither of you could. Neither of you wanted to. There was no escape anymore. 

And, finally, the dam broke.

“Aleksander.”  You repeated, and the Black General, that monster everyone feared, suppressed the last inches that separated you. 

His lips came to crash into yours, capturing your mouth with passion. You answered his kiss immediately — a kiss that was desperate and searing. As the wildfire of your desire unleashed, Aleksander slightly parted his lips, the tip of his tongue seeking yours. They bumped into each other timidly at first before they started to dance together in an infernal waltz.

You tasted like blood and honey.

He tasted like smoke and sadness.

Devouring each other like starving wolves, your bodies ignited with love and lust. The Darkling left hand lost itself in your long white mane, tugging at it a little to make your head tilt and deepen the kiss furthermore, while his other hand pressed firmly against the small of your back to pull you flush against him. At each friction, each fervent movement, your knees weakened. Hadn’t he been embracing you so tightly you would have collapsed. Embracing you so tightly you could feel the slightest details of what was hidden behind his clothes: His strong chest against your small, perky breasts, his lean stomach against yours, and his leg slightly pressing between your thighs, right on the thin lace thong that barely hid the wet petals of your slit. The sensation made you gasp into his mouth – Aleksander fed on the sound hungrily. 

His grip tightened even more around you, his love for you so maddening he almost wished he could tear you apart to sink further into your skin. He kissed you like no other man ever did, and the world disappeared — there was no court, no king, no war and no Tante Heleen anymore. There was only him. Only you.

Aleksander broke the kiss, leaving you almost gasping for air. His mouth trailed lower, and brushed against your jaw,  warm lips grazing your neck as breathless words slipped from them, “Do you have any idea,” He whispered against your skin with a hoarse voice, your flesh buzzing beneath his mouth, “what you do to me?” 

”I don’t,” You breathed and tilted your head to grant him full access to your throat, your crystal eyes half closed as his fingers clutched on your waist, “but I think you quite like it.” You purred with a rich and siren-like voice, laced with a quiet teasing tone. Your wild spirit had him stilled for a fraction of a second, his breath rasping before his lips curved against your neck in a dangerous smirk. 

“Perhaps I do.” He admitted in a low, seductive growl. 

Fuck, you thought. Your own fingers tightened in his coal-black hair and pulled it back just enough to meet his gaze — those endless black eyes that had always pierced through your soul and made you feel naked. Black eyes that were entirely, overwhelmingly, fixed on you. Devoted to you.

You leaned in again, your plump and saccharine lips just a breath away from his but you didn’t kiss him a second time yet despite Aleksander’s silently begging you for it. Instead, you let the moment stretch, drowning in his intoxicating perfume and letting him feel the unbearable anticipation he had inflicted upon you that night in the map room, “Then let’s fall together, General.” 

Your lips collapsed with his again but sloppier this time. It started as a little peck. Then a second, before turning into a soft and moist kiss, tongues gently stroking each other, like the warm rain of a hot summer night. Aleksander leaned into the kiss, his dark eyes shut close and his hands pawing at your waist hungrily to keep you trapped against his tall, lean figure. As your mouths explored the other, your bodies moved in a very slow rhythm, gently grinding together – your clothes were definitely more of a burden than anything else now.

Starting to feel needier, Kirigan trapped the juicy flesh of your lower lip between his pearly white teeth and tugged at it. He wanted you. He needed you. Now and always.

But a sharp knock at the door shattered the moment.

“General Kirigan,” a voice called through the wooden door of the guest room, “The King wishes to talk to you. He has reached his decision.” 

Silence hovered above the room for a brief instant even though the electricity of the moment still lingered and turned the air thick. Aleksander didn’t move, not quite willing to let reality intrude just yet. Nevertheless, he knew that his duties as a general had to come first, at least for the sake of your freedom. Crossing the King now would be the worst timing ever.

Aleksander exhaled slowly as he gently rested his forehead against yours and remained like this for a moment. His breath was still shallow and his heartbeat thumping. It was after what seemed to be an eternity for the man calling him behind the door, that he finally but oh-so-reluctantly stepped back and walked to the door. Before opening it, his strong hand froze on the knob and, despite the emergency of the situation, the General waited a bit more. He couldn’t help but glance at you one last time. His black eyes lingered on you, dark and unreadable again, though the unmistakable fire of love burned in them quietly.

“Come back to me soon.” You said calmly, but your soul screamed within you, unwilling to let her twin flame go.

Aleksander smirked when he heard you use the exact same words he used earlier. Cunning little Devil, he thought. Then turned and left the room, leaving you standing there alone with your body humming from his touch and your lips still tingling from his kisses. As his footsteps faded in the corridor, the echo of his shadows resounded in your heart and whispered a fierce truth:

It wasn’t over.

It had only just begun.

☾ Please consider interacting if you want the story to continue. It is what motivates writers to write the next chapters.

☾ Taglist: @lunawants , @emtaz-art, @lightinbug, @kmc1989, @thepassionatereader @mystic-mara @m-riaa @kallista-diune @meadows5 @kasagia @watersquirtpewpewboomm @the-sweet-psycho @sarahsobsession @elizabethblood9 @ritzzzzz @sophialeiros

[blue-moon-echo]

i think you might be right that its ai. some of the guns on the wall in pic 1 are a bit fucked, but then fixed in pic 2. the fuck isn't censored in pic 6, its just a different font and loses the black. id on't know why but that fire feels wrong. the effect of light sources is so inconsistent and i don't think a photographer is changing specs that much. in pic 3 the ceiling lights don't actually look like lights, just splotches of lighter white. i don't even know whats going on with that hello there sign. its legit too grainy to see if the foosball table actually has pieces on the bars, and i don't know who would ever get a completely glass foosball table. for a series of images that gets fuzzy around even the smooth light sources, that tv screen is weirdly crisp, like it was 'shopped in.

i may have gotten a lot of these details wrong and it may be a real house, but i really hope not. also there's a bit too much consistency for what i expect of ai, but its been a very hot minute since ive checked so maybe ai has just gotten better at consistency

im so confused about that hello there sign i did a cursory search for it but could not find anything at all.

i'm losing my mind I cannot witness this alone. LOOK at dr phil's monstrosity of a mansion

[overthinkingwritershub]

How to Write Believable Villains - A guide to writers

Villains aren’t just obstacles for the protagonist—they should be fully realized characters with depth, purpose, and their own internal logic. A strong villain can elevate a story, making the hero’s journey more compelling and adding layers of moral complexity. Here’s how to make them believable and unforgettable:

1. They Should Believe They’re the Hero of Their Own Story

A great villain doesn’t wake up in the morning thinking, I’m going to be evil today. They act based on their beliefs, desires, and personal logic—no matter how twisted.

Example:

Killmonger (Black Panther) believes he’s liberating oppressed people, not just seizing power.

Light Yagami (Death Note) sees himself as a force of justice, eliminating criminals to create a "better" world.

Magneto (X-Men) fights for mutant supremacy because of his experiences with human cruelty.

What to Avoid:

A villain who does bad things just because. ("I want to destroy the world for no reason!")

Over-the-top mustache-twirling evil.

Ask Yourself:

If your villain were telling the story, how would they justify their actions?

What’s their version of "doing the right thing"?

2. Give Them a Personal Code of Ethics (Even If Twisted)

Even villains have rules they follow. Their moral code might be flawed or extreme, but it’s consistent.

Example:

Jigsaw (Saw series) doesn’t kill for fun—he forces people to appreciate life through twisted "games."

Hannibal Lecter is a cannibal, but he only eats the "rude" and has a refined sense of culture.

Walter White (Breaking Bad) starts with the rule "no innocent people," but his morals erode over time.

What to Avoid:

A villain whose actions are random and contradictory.

A villain who has no limits—real people have boundaries, even bad ones.

Ask Yourself:

What is one thing your villain refuses to do, no matter what?

How does their moral code shape their decisions?

3. Their Motivation Should Be Relatable (Even If Their Actions Aren’t)

Your villain’s goal should make sense, even if their methods are extreme. Readers should understand why they’re doing what they do—even if they don’t agree with it.

Example:

Thanos (Avengers: Infinity War) believes overpopulation will destroy the universe, so he wants to "fix" it.

Dr. Octopus (Spider-Man 2) wants to complete his scientific work, but his obsession turns him into a villain.

The Phantom (Phantom of the Opera) longs for love and acceptance, but his jealousy drives him to violence.

What to Avoid:

A villain who is evil "for the sake of it."

A villain with an overdone revenge plot unless it has deeper layers.

Ask Yourself:

If the villain had chosen a different path, could they have been the hero?

What’s their core belief that fuels their actions?

4. Make Them Competent (Nothing’s Scarier Than a Villain Who Actually Wins)

A weak villain is forgettable. A great villain is dangerous because they’re smart, powerful, and capable.

Example:

Moriarty (Sherlock Holmes) is a criminal mastermind who outsmarts Sherlock multiple times.

Darth Vader is feared for a reason—he’s powerful, strategic, and ruthless.

The Joker (The Dark Knight) doesn’t have superpowers, but he manipulates people and turns society against Batman.

What to Avoid:

A villain who gets defeated too easily.

A villain who constantly makes dumb mistakes.

Ask Yourself:

What is the villain better at than the hero?

How do they outmaneuver the protagonist?

5. Don’t Forget Their Human Side—What Do They Love? What Are They Afraid Of?

Even villains have emotions, relationships, and vulnerabilities. Giving them a human side makes them more three-dimensional.

Example:

Lord Voldemort fears death more than anything, driving all his actions.

Loki craves attention and validation from his family.

The Wicked Witch (Wizard of Oz) isn’t just evil—she’s grieving her sister’s death.

What to Avoid:

A villain with nothing to lose—stakes make them more dangerous.

A villain who is just a killing machine with no depth.

Ask Yourself:

What does your villain secretly love?

What keeps them up at night?

Final Thought - Make the Villain’s Presence Felt

Even when the villain isn’t on the page, their influence should loom over the story. A great villain challenges everyone and everything in the story and the theories everyone else believe in.

[shefightslikeagirl]

Stages Through the Ages - Part II

An Asylum History post by @shefightslikeagirl

Go back...

2008: The Asylum Grows

The Plague Tour kicked off in Spring of 2008. The stage design didn't change much, but it did evolve. More props, new costumes, and new set dressings started to appear. The concerts were drawing more people and, notably, two concerts were professionally filmed for a never-to-be-released DVD.

Two new pieces of scenic debuted this tour, the most notable of the two being an "Asylum Clock." It was a handmade clock that hung centerstage, equipped with black-and-white drapery and forever pointing at 4 o'clock. Depending on the venue, it was either flown (hung from the catwalks/lighting rafters) or hung up on the back wall. Occasionally, if there truly wasn't any room, it would end up on floor.

Nachtelben, 2008

Bristol, 2008

The second piece of scenic was a familiar one: a second shadowscreen! This was the only tour where there were two screens on stage, both of them adorned with a crown of gears and clocks. You can see two screens and a flown clock in the video below, from the La Locomotive show in Paris.

The "full" stage set up from The Plague Tour was, by far, the most complicated stage EA ever had. A full setup consisted of two shadowscreens, a flown clock, the keyboard drapery and props, a props table with chairs, fabric all over the stage, and a space for Joo Hee and her cello. This was probably best shown at the (filmed) Islington concert.

Unfortunately, there aren't a lot of great recordings or photos of the full setup. However, there are some great shots of the stage details--including the shadowscreen topper--from EA's book readings at Wave Gotik Treffen.

WGT, 2008

2008: Keep Calm and Carry On

The Gate Tour was next. Now, if you were in the fandom at the time, you might remember some of the drama that surrounded this tour: Vecona leaving, EA's relationship with Trisol imploding, Joo Hee dropping off the face of the earth, and so on. There was a lot of change happening in the Asylum, but the show aesthetic staged largely the same.

The first half of The Gate didn't see many changes. Some scenic was given a facelift, including the keyboard, which was redesigned with a red-and-white drape. But everything still felt the same, even with Vecona gone.

Utrecht, 2008

We went back to having only one shadowscreen, which moved centerstage instead of being off to the side. (I have a sinking suspicion that this one may be larger than on other tours, but that could just be because the photos are better...)

Utrecht, 2008

EA had a handful of dates in North America during this tour, which was her first time performing outside of Europe since 2006. Because her set was mostly small items, fabrics, and easy-to-travel props, her stage remained largely the same. It appears they didn't travel with the shadowscreen, as it was missing from the New York and Ontario dates.

2009: Gears and Glitter

In 2009, the Gate II Tour began and our first significant design change took place. The fabric shadowscreen was replaced with a new version: a gear-lined, industrial themed shadowscreen (v2). It stood centerstage and acted as the focal point for the set, with everything else set up around it.

For those of you who might not know, this was a true upgrade. EA went from a handmade, pop-up screen to professional scrim. I can only assume that it was mounted to an aluminum frame, which would have kept better tension. The gears and decorative facing to hide the frame would have been made by EA (and friends).

In addition to the new clock, some empty antique-looking frames were suspended from the rig and both new and old props were scattered about the stage. But! A new icon debuted:

Wheelie!

Amsterdam, 2009

Allegedly inspired by the wheelchair from Wicked, Wheelie became a permanent fixture in EA's concerts all the way through 2014. She would be redesigned and replaced a few times, but she always returned.

EA was still touring almost exclusively in Europe, but after she split with Trisol, all that would change...

2009-2010: Tick Tock

After a significant amount of drama surrounding two cancelled North American dates, EA announced a brand new North American tour: The Key. The stage design changed again, this time pulling back a little on the number of props and small items onstage.

Emilie and Basil prepping for tour, Twitter, 2009

The biggest change was the combination of two different set pieces: the Asylum Clock and the shadowscreen.

Introducing: The Asylum Clock.

It was v3 of the shadowscreen, thematically taking the place of the clock that had once hung over the stage. It appeared in two different forms: the full face, which you see above, and what I'll call the skeletal version, below.

Brooklyn, 2009

This is a beefy set of truss, which EA loved to climb on when it was in its skeletal form.

In addition, the keyboard was given new drapery and the stage props were "neatly" placed on some new tea tables. An antique frame or a lamp-post chandelier might get hung up if the venue allowed. Wheelie lost some of its gears and jewels, which can be seen a bit farther down in this post.

Pomona, 2009

For EA's one-off Mexico date, the set was scaled back slightly.

Mexico City, 2009

Not much changed with this design through early 2010. Between the North American leg of The Key Tour and the European leg, the keyboard drapes changed again and the skeletal version of The Asylum Clock became the go-to.

Effenaar, 2010

When EA traveled to South America during The Door Tour in 2010, the set was stripped down entirely. There were no set dressings and no decorative frame for the shadowscreen, likely as a cost-saving measure. The focus was on the costumes, whatever stunt equipment they brought, and the few props they could shove in their bags.

2011: The End of an Era

The Door Tour was the last Opheliac tour. Again, as had become the trend between tours, the stage was scaled back. Most props were cleared away and it was rare to see anything hung from the rafters. Gone were the hand-painted gears and numbers from The Asylum Clock. It's newest iteration (v4) was a simple screen-printed truss cover, with a few props hung near the top.

Los Angeles, 2011

The keyboard decorations were massively simplified. Gone were the heaps of props, replaced with some electric candles ontop of a screen-printed Asylum logo. The props for the tea tables were scaled back, though that never stopped Maggot from spitting tea on the audience. The lack of aesthetic clutter didn't take away from the show, exactly, but it did detract from the vibe.

There's more to say and a few tours to left to talk about, but I'm running out of image space.

Part 3, anyone?

[evolutionsvoid]

It never fails to astound me the diversity that can develop within a family of flora or fauna. You think the common features they share would restrict them to a very similar formula, but how quickly you would be proven wrong! Harpies are one you would think stay pretty similar, and I once thought that as well! Learning about species like the Rahiruru challenged that notion a bit but it didn't seem too different. A harpy that lost its wings and bulked up, that isn't too radic-oh who am I kidding, yes that is a pretty big change. But my stubborn self kinda chalked that up to a fluke or simple luck. Stick anything on an island by itself for long enough and yes it is going to be very different. But once I learned about the Inmyeonjo, I finally had to concede defeat.

Like I stated before, the Inmyeonjo is a member of the harpy family, though it could be a bit hard to see the connection. The only real clue you get is their human-like face, but the rest of the body is quite different from your common harpy. First off, they are TALL! Long legs, long body and a real long neck! Their anatomy feels more fitting for a crane than a harpy! Then you notice the striking black and white feathers. It is similar color to the yuki-onna, but with how different the two's anatomy is, I am positive you won't be mistaking them! Not only is it sheer height, but the Inmyeonjo also has really long feathers, with the biggest tell being the single trailing feather on their head. It adds quite the regal look to them I must say!

The Inmyeonjo tends to live around alpine ecosystems and in the forests that surround mountains. They are omnivorous in diet, typically eating nuts, berries, and small animals. Their towering bodies help them spot prey with ease, and strong legs can pin them down to be eaten. Despite their size, they can fly, it just so happens that they spend a lot of their time on the ground. Seeing an Inmyeonjo in flight is uncommon, only really taking to the air when fleeing from predators or heading up the mountain to lay their eggs. Their size and talons are used to ward off attackers, and like I said, they will fly off if that isn't enough.

During the breeding season, male Inmyeonjo will woo the females through dance. Their act consists of a lot of strutting, head bobs and wing spreads. These dances occur in the open areas around the mountain, where it is easy for the ladies to see the performance. If things are looking good, the female Inmyeonjo will join in on the dance, and the two will seal this relationship through their dual act. They will fly up to the mountain and find a place to build a nest for their eggs. Inmyeonjo nest up there to cut down on the amount of predators that may threaten their young. However, with the weather and cold, it makes it more imperative that one of the parents is always sitting on the nest. They will switch off duty from time to time, but they will not leave this spot unattended until the young develop the proper feathers to withstand the temperatures.

For the locals of the regions where the Inmyeonjo lives, these birds are beloved and sacred. They are seen as creatures of royalty, symbolizing elegance and wisdom. For some, they may be messengers from the gods, while others see them as the emperors of all other birds. Wealthy estates and imperial gardens feel that an Inmyeonjo on their property is a must have, as these animals are practically status symbols. Due to their popularity with royalty, there have been breeds of them that are more familiar with humans and other folk. They are not quite domesticated, but comfortable enough with the presence of others that it isn't too far off. Which means if you ever have the chance to visit these gardens, you may actually have an encounter with a curious Inmyeonjo. Though their size may be intimidating, they are usually very friendly and are looking for attention or food. Worst case scenario, they may like a trinket you are carrying on your person and try to nab it. Keep such shiny baubles hidden away, as you will have a hard time keeping one of these birds from stealing it if they like it. And since they are royalty, you can't do a thing about! Ha, I guess they truly fit the bill! But that's just a joke, because I would never want to insult such gorgeous and graceful birds! And tall too! Out of the harpy species, the Inmyeonjo is absolutely my favorite!

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

[blackwoolncrown]

To close, after reading some responses:

If you are not aware, Lamar has consistently avoided using his platform to speak out about any ongoing genocides. This is common celebrity behavior so I'm not saying this is unique behavior on his part, only that one should resist seeing him as more heroic than he is. There are other things to be said about his willingness to valorise artists who have been known to assault women just because they are key players in Hip Hop culture.

This 'moment' is about exactly what it claims to be, and nothing more. This is a swift and fatal blow to Drake as the embodiment of soulless culture vultures; this is an ode to the people poser artists like Drake are willing to crush in their hunt for fame-- like underaged girls and Serena Williams.

At the end of the above, all African Americans should be wary of narratives that corral them securely within the frame of the United States. This is an intentional set of blinders that keeps you seeing yourself as belonging to this outsized plantation. We made connection to this land, but we were brought here in chains.

Slave masters also let the enslaved dance from time to time, provided they did so in a manner that was not too disruptive. Given that this whole show was done in an arena where Roc Nation has been assigned the task of appeasing The Blacks so there would be no more Kaepernicks, I would hesitate to see a Super Bowl Halftime Show as even remotely capable of being revolutionary.

I also agree that the propaganda can be double-edged-- assuage the Black desire for revolution and use the display to 'prove' to a party of needfully terrified whites that "see look! They ARE taking over!" As manipulation, it is very thoughtful.

Get back at me in a couple years but this whole moment w Kendrick is giving Beyonce.

[respectthepetty]

Hi,

I saw promo for the new Gmmtv merch calendar for EarthMix and I immediately thought of your theory. Do you think this means anything for Ossan's Love Thailand?

(For context most other pairs both wear (mostly) black. Only a few have one in black one in white (aside from EarthMix also JoongDunk, FirstKhaotung, WinnySatang, GreatInn, OhmLeng, and MarkOhm).

Of those EarthMix are the only ones where the colors don't match up with the order of their names in the ship name.)

Anon, regarding my Wild Ass Theory about the blacks and whites and EarthMix, the calendar and the colors are on brand for the couple.

I've featured them before because they have consistently stated that Mix is black (dark) and Earth is white (light).

There have been times when they "switch" but even then Mix isn't full white.

So I think they have been telling us exactly what they wanted to say, but people aren't listening.

It's MixEarth.

And it always has been.

[quimser]

trying a linocut-leaning style (best viewed on desktop, mobile crushes the quality massively)

[sysig]

How far did you get? (Patreon)

[solshii]

here’s sol’s wip notes for her mlp svsss

sqq has a horn guard to cover his cracked horn (i assume it was near broken off when wu yanzi got to him and wyz would do some hoodoo voodoo backwater magic & cultivation to cure it to near perfection (without repercussions that would set back his magic and cultivation ofc))

lbh’s horn comes and goes (like a lightsaber) with his zuiyin. it helps with disguising as a normal pony, plus it goes in line with his whole rise to power with a ‘nopony is actually a secret alicorn’ pipeline LOL

higher class demons (i.e mbj, shl, heavenly demons) are more reminiscent to ponies (the same way they look more like humans in normal svsss) though majority of the demon realm consist of various species

i imagine majority of demons also dont have cutie marks as they are a variety of species, but maybe powerful demons probably get the chance to gain one (excluding binghe who gets to have one regardless since hes half pony)

we’ll.. figure out how to mix cultivation and pony magic together 💀🤞 somehow…

speculating lqg’s colour palette to be blue/grey/white (and naturally he has more moles around his body)

only heavenly demons get alicorn privilege so mbj is a unicorn

and sqh is a pegasus (airplane himself wouldve been an earth pony)

pony shen yuan would’ve been an average unicorn who can at most carry a few things at once. he wouldve been really excited when he could do all the cool unicorn stuff as shen qingqiu that he couldn’t when he was shen yuan

blackened binghe would probably have more black and red in his design

also everyone wears robes agsksj but yk i was fighting for my life 😞

some ponies (like lqg, sqh) only wear upper robes (and bracers) while some others (like sqq) wear robes the also cover their flank, though leave some open room for legs to move freely (see mlp gala dresses)

non-pegasi cultivators can probably still use their swords to fly (if we can fit two people on a sword, they can fit all fours on it i trust them 🤞🤞)

also yeah lbh’s guanyin pendant is in the same colours as the jade tassel on sqq’s cutie mark

i just thought it was cute

on cutie marks

i was gonna make lbh’s cutie mark just be his zuiyin but its subject to change

lqg’s cutie mark is cheng luan and a (probably white?? blue??) phoenix

i have no clue how to go about yqy’s cutie mark but i was telling someone about entertaining the thought of chains incorporated into it somehow as like,, symbolism for his whole deal with xuan su and his past as a slave, while also symbolising strong bonds (read: his attachment to sj), strength unity and all that makes him sect leader

since i wanted yqy to have something relating to how his past grapples at him without being inconspicuous for a sect leader and also having symbolism that really makes sense for a sect leader lol (plus chains are grey and it matches his colour scheme (put a b&w filter on this bad boy and u wont see a difference))

during their time as slaves, yqy and sj’s flanks were marked with 七 and 九 respectively. i think that if sj were to get a slave brand from the qius (icl ive read so many fics idk if this is a canon or fanon thing) it would be placed there as well

which is what makes the fan for sj a meaningful CM to me imo, like he’s hiding his past as a slave behind the fan like he does in reality, or generally metaphorical in the way 九 would define shen jiu and the fan defines his persona as shen qingqiu, iygwim

i took the poem on the fan from chapter 5 of dark clouds by invidia_envy LOL youll find it if you type in lyrics to the tune of wuyeti by li yu

i have no clue what to do for sqh either but i may just give him the generic scroll with a brush (sorry airplane (but it would be kinda funny if some of the scrolls are all crumpled up n everything))

also i imagine sj and yqy got their cutie marks when sj was in the qiu manor and yqy was having his whole xuan su fiasco, so they never saw each other’s CMs until their reunion. but i also dont know if this would be considered too late by mlp standards ahsjdj

my pens fixed and i havent drawn in a while

by the way theyre supposed to have robes guys i was just too confused to figure it out 😞

[jaybirdwest]

i love this look an unbelievable amount. jason wearing a beanie with the curls peeking out underneath and the white streak is there??? it’s so good

Batman/Catwoman: The Gotham War - Red Hood #1

[gale-dekarios]

im not saying all of my posts are bangers, but its hard not to notice that posts i make about other companions easily break 100 notes no sweat, with the upper limit breaching 1k, to outliers of well over 4k, but whenever it's about wyll, it's crickets. i dunno, youre allowed to interact with anything you want to, and this isnt a call to reblog from me, specifically, this is the same for a lot of wyll orientated posts ive seen, but its just odd. and by odd i mean racist.

[skitskatdacat63]

All white fit, hello??