slave and king

You have no idea what it means to see beautiful black people decked out in all regalia in a full on costume piece, where they’re not slaves, but are kings, princes, princesses and people of the court. I don’t care if it’s not a critically acclaimed series. If white people can have trashy dramas that go on for 15 seasons, then let POC, let black people have theirs.

As soon as I sat down to watch and saw Lucien Laviscount as Romeo make his way across the screen, a beautiful black prince in his gorgeous “fourteeth” or “fifteenth century” (because this show is all over the place with their costumes) attire, Medalion Rahimi as Princess Isabella looking like a QUEEN or Lashana Lynch and Ebonée Noel as Rosaline and Livia looking divine at the ball, I got a little misty eyed. I felt like a little girl when I watched Brandy’s Cinderella for the first time. Please, don’t take this away from me.

The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas

From The Wind’s Twelve Quarters: Short Stories by Ursula Le Guin

With a clamor of bells that set the swallows soaring, the Festival of Summer came to the city Omelas, bright-towered by the sea. The rigging of the boats in harbor sparkled with flags. In the streets between houses with red roofs and painted walls, between old moss-grown gardens and under avenues of trees, past great parks and public buildings, processions moved. Some were decorous: old people in long stiff robes of mauve and grey, grave master workmen, quiet, merry women carrying their babies and chatting as they walked. In other streets the music beat faster, a shimmering of gong and tambourine, and the people went dancing, the procession was a dance. Children dodged in and out, their high calls rising like the swallows’ crossing flights, over the music and the singing. All the processions wound towards the north side of the city, where on the great water-meadow called the Green’ Fields boys and girls, naked in the bright air, with mudstained feet and ankles and long, lithe arms, exercised their restive horses before the race. The horses wore no gear at all but a halter without bit. Their manes were braided with streamers of silver, gold, and green. They flared their nostrils and pranced and boasted to one another; they were vastly excited, the horse being the only animal who has adopted our ceremonies as his own. Far off to the north and west the mountains stood up half encircling Omelas on her bay. The air of morning was so clear that the snow still crowning the Eighteen Peaks burned with white-gold fire across the miles of sunlit air, under the dark blue of the sky. There was just enough wind to make the banners that marked the racecourse snap and flutter now and then. In the silence of the broad green meadows one could hear the music winding through the city streets, farther and nearer and ever approaching, a cheerful faint sweetness of the air that from time to time trembled and gathered together and broke out into the great joyous clanging of the bells.

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March 14th 1794: Eli Whitney patents the cotton gin

On this day in 1794, American inventor Eli Whitney recieved a patent for his cotton gin. Whitney, who was born in New England, moved to Georgia in 1792 to work as a tutor on a plantation. Whitney witnessed the system of Southern slavery firsthand, and noted that the growing of cotton - a staple crop on slave plantations - was becoming unprofitable. The one strain of cotton which grew inland had sticky green seeds which were time consuming to pick out of the fluffy cotton balls. Whitney sought to build a machine which would speed up this process, therefore ensuring the continued viability of the Southern cotton-based slave economy. The result of his efforts was the cotton gin, which could separate the seeds from the cotton at speed. Whitney patented his invention in 1794, and with his business partner installed them throughout the South and charged planters for their use. Planters, who resented paying the high price for using the gin, exploited a loophole in the patent law and made their own versions of the machine. The invention of the cotton gin made a significant impact upon the Southern economy and, indeed, the course of American history. After the invention, the yield of raw cotton doubled each decade after 1800, ensuring the continued profitability of slavery in the United States and leading to the growth of American slavery. Using machines of the Industrial Revolution to refine and spin cotton, grown by enslaved people who were not paid for their labour, the United States soon became the world’s leading supplier of cotton. Historians sometimes claim the invention of the cotton gin as a pivotal moment in the coming of the American Civil War. The invention ensured that the evil of slavery continued in the American South, setting the nation on the course to war over the ‘pecular institution’.

Forever love the fact that not only was Laurent able to reclaim his sexual autonomy, but that he was able to reclaim his sexual reputation. For too long, his sex life - or lack of - was the centre of court gossip. Subject to ridicule and downright degrading treatment - he’s frigid, once every ten years. He committed incest with his brother. The soldiers describing exactly how they’d fuck him as if he’s a prize to be boasted about. His uncle constantly asking if he’d slept with Damen yet and trying to get Damen to give him details. 

But now, he controls his sexual reputation. He knows the rumours that he’s fucking ‘the Akielon slave’ and later, King Daminanos of Akielos, and he owns it. Telling Nikandros that Damen sucked his cock, letting Pallas walk in on them. Talking with Jokaste. Even at his trial admitting he and Damen had lain together. To deny it would allow the rumours to spread and sprawl out of his control. He refuses for there to be any ambiguity any more. For there to be any shame. He refuses to let his sexuality be weaponised against him any longer.


I feel like it’s been forever since I drew anything Homestuck (which is a shame)

So as I was trying to remember how to draw Gamzee the way I used to, I decided to do the design sheet for scourge sisters for Slave and King. (no I have not abandoned it, I just didn’t know what to do)

I personally think Vriska got the best female attire in the au (thought Meenah’s got a really neat and unique one as well). Her cloth isn’t the same as one commonly wore in the kingdom, but not too close to that of the sea dwellers. Making distinct cloth but not losing the theme and still looks like they are form the same world in the same era isn’t as easy as I thought.

Terezi’s a soldier. Her cloth is pretty much like Tavros’s and Equius’ but she’s not on the front line, so I added the sleeves.

man…. I miss this.


finally. looks like I’ve come down to one upload per week. I’ll try my best to not make it any less frequent.

These are bad times for me, I can’t even make draft for story on my way to work.

well here, Meenah makes her move.


==> sea princess: interrupt

You saw the king’s reaction to the soldier’s condition. You did not need to ask anyone to confirm it, it was clear to you his relationship to him.

You waited until the king had seem to calm down somewhat and strode in to his chamber as if you own his castle.

With a finger pointed straight at him, you told him to listen.  He had to help you, you said. The king cannot be weeping and do nothing, he must take revenge.


The king lunched at you and grab your collar. He pretty much roared in your face with rage, calling you name and threaten to kill you. No, he said he would give you to the empress, maybe in pieces if there was any thing left of you by the time he finished with you. He accused you of being the cause of his soldier’s injury. Tavros can no longer fly because of you.

You said it was not your fault. It was him who sent the soldier and it was the soldier who fought and loses. You cannot heal him and bring back his wings. And you told him that you have seen his reaction to his wounded body. You know his heart and you wonder what would became of the king when his beloved soldier reach the end of his life span. The king looked at you with hateful eyes. He was probably tearing you to bits in his mind. You spoke on.

You told him the you can extend his life span to match his.

The king paused. He then pulled you even closer and spoke through his teeth in whispers that sounded more like hissing. You repeated yourself for him. You can extend the lowblood mutant soldier’s life span to match that of the king’s. With your touch, any lowblood may live just as long, or even longer than the king if he wishes it.

You waited to see that the king was quiet and seemed to be waiting to hear you out.

You asked him for a deal.

Go to war with the sea kingdom and help you take down the empress. You will granted anyone a life as long as his in return.

==> leave the king to his thoughts

There was a long suffocating silence.

Then the king gave you his leave and promptly dismiss his mutant blooded slave.

He would need time to think and you can give him that. At least for a while. You don’t know when will the empress make her move, but it will probably be very soon.


It turned into Gamtav.

but only for a while.

What should who do next?

Slave and king Grand Highblood and Signless.

Because I really don’t know where to go with the story and kind of have to take some little breaks. (I’m working on it, just don’t have good enough ideas yet, worse come to worst I’ll just go in to some random flash back)

I don’t think I’ll be using much of Signless, but there is a queue for GHB, and might be making appearance soon.

I’m not actually that keen to do a hot-sexy-anime GHB. but the diversity in things I can draw are tragically low. and you guys are probably gonna flock this design anyway…..