#peroral

[rosewater-n-rosemary]

🌹Introduction🥀

Hello there, my name is Rosemary. I hope you enjoy your time here on my blog.

[OOC will be structured like so]

(OOC: or so)

((OOC: y'know what just look for OOC in it))

Please do not send anything NSFW, or otherwise inappropriate.

My tags are;

#Rose Bath - Answered asked

#Wind Whispers - Reblogs

#Perorated Petals - Anything else

[Apart of @the-forgor-four-rottmnt , list is here]

[Main blog is @echodoesstuff62333]

[Backstory: After losing the rise turtles.. and his lab. Baron Draxum took any scraps he could find, and combined them to make the "perfect" puppet. This puppet, is Rosemary.]

[goshyesvintageads]

Taylor Watch Co, 1967

[jetstarred]

oye alguien dejo un like en mi post sobre tratándo de hacer mas posts en español y se me completamente olvido sobre eso 😭 nunca recuerdo ninguna de las cosas que yo dijo

[agent-marusankisser]

Hello fellow Emperor hater :D

Don't hate himi despise him kindly :)

[himemeika]

ooooooooo you wanna homebrew your ds device so bad oooooooooo

[reinemichele]

I thought it'd be funnie to make jokey 2010's-esque collage edits of these 2 dipshits 😌🙏🏻♥️

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Do you have any good words to use instead of exclaim?

Thank you, I love this blog so much!

So glad to hear this. Thank you! <3 I love making these writing references as well.

Exclaim - to cry out, speak, or utter in a strong or sudden burst of emotion

Assert - to state or declare positively and often forcefully or aggressively

Aver - to allege or assert in pleading

Babble - to talk enthusiastically or excessively

Bellow - to make the loud deep hollow sound

Bewail - to express deep sorrow for usually by wailing and lamentation

Blabber - to talk foolishly or excessively

Blat - to declare positively; to utter loudly or foolishly

Blunder - to utter stupidly, confusedly, or thoughtlessly

Blurt (out) - to utter abruptly and impulsively

Bray - to utter or play loudly or harshly

Burst out - to say (something) suddenly

Caterwaul - to make a harsh cry

Chirp - to utter (something) with a cheerful liveliness; to make sharply critical, complaining, or taunting remarks

Clamor - to utter or proclaim insistently and noisily

Crow - to utter a sound expressive of pleasure

Gab - to talk in a rapid or thoughtless manner

Gabble - to say with incoherent rapidity

Gush - to make an effusive display of affection or enthusiasm

Hoot - to shout or laugh usually derisively

Howl - to cry out loudly and without restraint under strong impulse (such as pain, grief, or amusement)

Inveigh - to protest or complain bitterly or vehemently

Orate - to speak in an elevated and often pompous manner

Perorate - to deliver a long or grandiloquent oration

Repine - to feel or express dejection or discontent

Roar - to utter or emit a full loud prolonged sound

Screech - a high shrill piercing cry usually expressing pain or terror

Shout - to utter a sudden loud cry

Shriek - to utter a sharp shrill sound

Shrill - to utter or emit an acute piercing sound

Snarl - to give vent to anger in surly language

Spout - to speak or utter readily, volubly, and at length

Squall - to utter in a strident voice

Squawk - to utter a harsh abrupt scream

Squeal - to cause to make a loud shrill noise

Vociferate - to utter or cry out loudly

Wail - to express a prolonged cry or sound expressing grief or pain; loud lamentation

Whine - to utter a high-pitched plaintive or distressed cry

Yammer - to utter repeated cries of distress or sorrow; to utter persistent complaints; to talk persistently or volubly and often loudly

Yawp - (or yaup) to make a raucous noise

Yowl - to utter a loud long cry of grief, pain, or distress

Hope this helps. If it inspires your writing in any way, please tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read your work!

More: Word Lists

[sonicfangamebot]

Void Witch' by Perority (Original Game) Stuck in a conversation in an unknown language, read facial expressions and tonal shifts to pick up the context. A neat idea! https://www.sonicfangameshq.com/forums/showcase/void-witch.959/

[muntitled]

𝙎𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮 𝙊𝙛 𝘼𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

Song Mingi x Fem!reader

Summary: Your relationship isn't as vanilla as you initially thought

Warnings: ft. Hongjoong, Language, Established Relationship, Honjoong as his own warning, Teasing, Mentions of Bruises, Possessiveness, Slight!Humor, Fluff, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, Marking, Rough Sex, Praise Kink, DUB/CON, Massive Degradation Kink, Rough Sex, No Aftercare, Breeding Kink, Dom!Mingi, Sub!reader, fingering, PIV, Unprotected Sex, Slight!Exhibition Kink

HE MAKES ME SO DELULU

Hongjoong's voice is loud and frankly hyperbolic when he decides to disrupt the serenity in the dorms by screaming, "What the hell is that?!"

Your head jerks upwards from Mingi's hard chest, effectively ruining your once blissful rest under candle scented clouds as you stare wide-eyed at your boyfriend's friend. Hongjoong had promised to make himself and the rest of the group scarce on this bustling Friday night, leaving you and Mingi alone in the dorms while they partied up the peroration of the weekend.

But he is still here.

Blocking the view of the TV with his blinding Saint Lairent sequence and attire.

Your downtime, your only time, which was meticulously carved out of both you and your boyfriend's busy schedule is suddenly being hijacked by a crazily grinning Hongjoong, cupping the front of his mouth in apparent shock.

"Aren't you supposed to be gone?" Mingi mutters, refusing to spare Hongjoong a single glance as he swipes through his phone.

Your boyfriend continues in his duties as the big spoon on the wide sectional. His other hand, in its callousness and recklessness, is draped over your hip. Throughout his doom scrolling, Mingi's hand has slipped under your camisole and has taken to rubbing, slow circles along your soft tummy, gradually exposing the dark, purple splotches which caught Hongjoong's attention, just as he was about to leave.

"Aren't you supposed to be a human?" Hongjoong replies smoothly before gesturing vaguely towards your exposed abdomen, "When were you going to tell us you're an undercover vampire? I always had a suspicion, but now I know -"

"Jeez-" You stammer, fighting to force out Mingi's hand and pull down your camisole before Hongjoong could get a closer look. Mingi's hand is an iron glove as he pushes you down by your abdomen, effectively securing you against him.

Without looking up from his phone, he says, "He's in our business,"

"Damn right, I'm in your business!" Exclaims Hongjoong, "Did you see the state of those marks, man?! Honestly, I applaud you-"

Sensing Mingi's already glacial patience waning, by the firm grip across your abdomen, you attempt to salvage the conversation. Mingi very rarely felt like speaking at the best of times, even more apparent was his abhorrence for explaining himself and so you do it for him.

"They're just love bites," You attempt to salvage, but to no avail. "And anyway, I think you better get going, now!"

"'Love bites!'" Hongjoong mocks in slight acquiescence as he begins to make his way to the front door.

Despite the flurry of teasing that he had been attacked with, Mingi is still indifferent as he finally places his phone down. In fact, his hand returns to its designated spot underneath your camisole, resting along your tummy, with his blunt fingernails skimming the softness of the skin under your breasts "You love everything I do to you," He murmurs in your ear loud enough for Hongjoong to hear who finally disappears behind the closed door with another loud cackle. Mingi continues rubbing along your skin as he buries his head in between your neck.

"Show them too me," He says, "I like seeing them."

There is no reality in which you could possibly explain to anyone that the marks you sported underneath your clothes are a product of your desires. One glance at your body, riddled with bruises and love bites, would have anybody sick. To you, however, they were a prize.

"I wanna see them," Mingi says, having suddenly found his deep, fiery, sandalwood voice, echoing throughout the living room.

He begins to paw at anything and everything to get to one of his many marks he left on you and once he peeks over your side, and sees what Hongjoong saw, the flurry of blue and purple bruises meshing into the depths of your skin - it has his resolve snapping in earnest as he pushes you easily onto your back, while he moves to hover above you.

He had not always been this handsy or demanding, and you're unable to stop yourself from thinking back to when things had been different...

You remember the softness of Mingi's hands your first night spent together. How he hovered behind your bent over frame, clenching his jaw as he eased his leaking cock inside of you at snail pace,

"I don’t have anywhere to be, Babe, take your time," you had joked with a lazy smile while Mingi's jaw ticked.

"Carry on with your little jokes and I might not be so forgiving," If only you knew that the further your pussy swallowed his dick, the more his patience was waning. His limbs ached with the need to wrap around you. Adrenaline from the earlier performance was still running through his arteries, heightening his senses. He needed to go quicker. He longed to fuck you harder. This gentleness was going against everything in his very nature. His body burened for him to make a mess inside you, clamp his hand around your mouth and fuck you in front of the greenroom mirror until you begged him to stop… until you would have the marks to prove it.

But he liked you too much

And he had never felt this way before.

And as his hand dug into your soft sides, he promised that he would never let his recklessness steal this away from him.

But you felt him twitch inside you, and you peered up at his brown eyes now squeezed shut,

"What are you thinking about," you had asked him softly, as Mingi began a slow rhythm with his hips- the tip of his cock barely grazing that plush bundle of need inside you.

"Don't worry about what I'm thinking about," He blew out a hot and heavy breath, "what the fuck are you think about? You're gripping me like a vice, you fucking slut," He did not mean to say that. He did not mean for the words to slip out.

Or maybe he did.

There is an immense burst of pleasure spanning inside him, having him rut just a little quicker inside you - inside his beautiful fucking slut.

"Fuck,"

"Holy shit"

A dam had been broken. A holy grail was discovered as you watched Mingi and his slightly parted lips through the mirror. His eyes had snapped shut and a pained, completely fucked out expression overtook him. It had Mingi's cock seeking further, more violent entry, while your thighs framing his hips only locked tighter. The noise of post-perfomance celebration outside was no match for the bass in Mingi's voice that night.

"What are you thinking about?" All thoughts lead back to the present with Mingi presently stationed between your thighs on the big, open couch. Your breath is shallow as you reply, "Guess,"

A slow, almost proud smirk lightly pierces the end of his lips as he sits back on his haunches to splay a kiss against your steepled knee. Your eyes flutter shut as his plush, pillowy lips make contact with your skin, "Osaka?" He asks, voice as husky as it was in that deserted green room, where he forced you to take everything he had to offer while still wanting more.

"Osaka." You nod with finality, allowing your eyes to flutter shut as Mingi's kisses grew slightly more frazzled along your legs. Soon, you're gasping into the air as you feel his sneaky hand drift further and further along your inner thigh, like a serpent on a mission. He remains cool and collected on the outside but his bulge is raging against his sweatpants. It's the lack of immediate gratification on both ends that has your wetness seeping onto your underwear while you begin to paw helplessly at your breasts.

"You know…" Mingi's fingers lock onto your underwear, which he gradually pulls down. His kisses cease, and you frown at the skin-to-skin disconnection as your eyes flutter open, "Your skin is looking a little too boring down here. Not a single mark in sight," He peers up at you from between your rattling thighs with unmistakable innocent eyes.

You arch your back off the couch, already triggered by a deep wave of arousal as you bring your cunt to meet his hand while you reply through clenched teeth, "You can't… on my legs- They'll see,"

"You think I care if any of them see?" It is a question asked in darkened curiosity. You moan with ferocity as Mingi's fingers spear your aching cunt as his head tilts to the side, "You think I care if anyone sees how pretty you look when you're covered in my bruises like this?" He's completely sunken into his wayward domspace as his fingers drift in and out of you with complete focus and determination. You're a mewling, moaning mess as your fingers dig into his choppy dyed hair and you lift your hips to meet each and every obscenely cruel thrust.

"Another finger, Mingi, Please. I need m-more," he was wrecking you with middle finger alone, savouring the way your cunt gripped around him, imagining it was his cock. "Such a cute little slut," He mutters, almost to himself as he obliges and slowly sinks his index fingers inside your soaking walls. Your cunt is eager to pull his fingers in before pushing him out and pulling him in again. Mingi is utterly transfixed, watching you fuck yourself silly on his fingers until they're glistening.

"Lift your top," he says, "I wanna see you." You comply without fail, scrambling to lift your camisole until the cool air flows freely across your hardened nipples. Mingi's breathing becomes ragged when he lays eyes on your exposed breasts, and the dozens of little marks splattered across your torso. Some faded, some blending into the depth of your skin. It is the unevenness of it, the irregularities and discoloration that he put there, that completely blows the lid on his composure.

"Fuck, open your legs," you could not find it in you to tell him your legs were already open. All you do is moan from the loss of his fingers as Mingi crawls up against you. He palms his hardened cock through his sweats as he watches you play with your tits in the most lewd, most lascivious fashion.

"You like acting like such a little slut?" The depth of his voice, had you absolutely weak to the core, like the foundations of earth itself was being enchanted to speak. He knew how wrecked he could get you by simply speaking and it is his most coveted weapon. Mingi's eyes are hooded and glassy as he hovers over you, simultaneously forcing his cock through your wet folds while he looked down at you with fierce conviction.

You're already teetering on the edge as he begins to fuck you hard and rough while his 3 silver chains dangle from his neck, kissing the very tips of your nose.

"Oh- fuck, you're taking me so well," Mingi's voice is absolutely delirious as he pounds into you, his jewelery moving in tandem with his violent thrusts as he brings a hand down on your breasts.

"So, good, you feel so good," He repeats, rutting into you with the same urgency of that very first night you let him get this rough with you. His thrusts are sloppy and erratic as he splays a wayward hand on your inner thigh, prying your legs open to allow his cock to plunge even deeper. Mingi's left arm is beside your head, keeping him afloat while he experimentally brings a calloused hand around the base of your throat, testing. Your back once again peels off the couch as you bring a hand up to his wrist. "Fuck, oh my god-"

"Fuck, Mingi" He corrects, huffing and puffing above you as he urges you to nod along with him, "I want you to say my name, baby,"

"F-Fuck, Mingi," The words escape through pursed lips, accompanied by a whorish moan from you and a deep, rumbling groan from Mingi who begins to hump your cunt with urgency.

For the umpteenth time since you began, you are utterly breathless.

"My dumb little slut is taking his cock so well," Mingi's voice is hoarse as it cracks into a million pieces, "So fucking good,"

He watches with shallow breathing as another moan climbs up and out of your throat... He sends another mindless rut into your pussy, spurred by the knowledge that you are slipping into subspace right in front of him. "You like it when I call you my little slut?"

"Oh fuck-" Your own hips are restless as you lift them to meet his sloppy thrusts.

"That's not an answer," He says before squeezing the base of your throat in warning.

"Yes!" You say, once You're given the gift of breathing, "Yes, I like it when you call me a slut!" Unimaginable pleasure only multiplies as Mingi buries his head in the crook of your neck and bites. He is relentless on your skin- sinking his teeth and rutting his hips until the tip of his cock bruises your cervix. You're completely incoherent and so is he.

"Fuck…I love seeing- love seeing my marks on you baby," Mingi's eyes are half lidded as his lips hangs open, "Fucking love marking my slut and fucking her tight little pussy."

"Oh, fuck-"

"I can't stop," He says, with utter desperation in his tone, enough to have your legs shaking, ready to accommodate your oncoming orgasm, "I can't fucking stop so don't ask me to, okay? P-Please don't ask me to stop," Mingi's words bleed into one another and he feels free. Free to say what he needs to in order to build that well of lust necessary to push him over the edge.

He is so grateful to have found you.

"Fuck, I'm gonna fill your pussy with my cum-" that is the only announcement needed before Mingi completely releases inside you. His words have you slipping into your own orgasm, screaming and clawing at the hand around your neck as your hips lift to milk everything out of him.

The air that settles is still profoundly charged and Mingi finds himself unable to leave the confines of your pussy, so he doesn't.

"I want you to show everyone these marks for me tomorrow," He whispers with his cock still inside you, "Can you do that for me?"

Welp!

[kareluna8]

I have a Gale in the closet

Well, here you have my baptism in the world of words (WoW?), after years without writing. It is a short story, just over 1000 words. I hope you like it 😊

(The Spanish version is also available. If anyone is interested in the 'original version', please write to me.)

Thanks a lot @senualothbrok for being my wonderful beta reader.

I have a Gale in the closet.

The door is closed, but I can still feel his now-empty puppy-dog eyes, begging me not to turn him off. I can't see him, but I know he's there every time I walk past the door. I get the feeling that the door is going to open at any moment and his hand is going to pop out anxiously, asking for help, like when he came out of that portal at the beginning of the game. But his hand doesn't come out. He doesn't make a sound. There he is, inert, dull, gathering dust.

“What are you doing with that old thing in there?” my friends ask me. “Throw it away, it's taking up space. The new models out there do everything! Mine even gives me a Thai massage every night.  You should try it.”

Gale2024 has long since gone out of fashion. The poor boy had accumulated quite a few bugs during all these years of service. There were hardly any technical premises with parts to repair him. He showed the first symptoms some time ago: he stopped making croquettes. The béchamel recipe program was corrupted and there was no way to restore it. I didn't think it was important. I could live without croquettes and if not, I could always get the frozen ones from the supermarket. But he was still as tender and affectionate as the first day he saw me and recognised me as his TAV (True Amorous Vessel). Many years had passed since that moment.

I had already listened to his lectures on arcane magic a thousand times. I could recite them from memory, word for word, if I put my mind to it. He had always been such a chatterbox. There wasn't a moment when he didn't bring up a topic of conversation. It was a pity when he could no longer keep up to date with the news, with all the  literature, science and technology websites he liked. He would always find some interesting news that he would enthusiastically explain to me, down to the last detail. That was a hard blow for him.

But he didn't give up. He began to pick up the few paper books he could find, and with an archaic OCR programme he managed to read what was written, pitifully. It wasn't perfect, and noticeably slower than downloading GBytes of information directly from the net, but it was something. And it kept him going. Watching him turn the pages of those antique tomes was like looking at a vintage postcard, not without a certain charm. Afterwards, he would share those old stories with me. He looked like a granny. He even put his glasses on the tip of his nose and imitated the worn-out voice of an octogenarian to liven up the peroration. He used to make me laugh.

Now he doesn't say a word.

He was always so attentive and kind. Many people soon got bored of Gales and started to provoke them or even ‘mistreat’ them, as much as you can mistreat a being who feels no pain. Or at least that's what they said. Although I know he did feel it. Many Gales ended up mangled and mutilated in the most varied ways. All to see how far he could take it, what his limit was, what he could do or endure for his TAV. Human beings do not deserve such goodness.

In my defense, I will say that I gave mine a kind ‘life’. Or at least that's what I like to believe. Of course, he also had to put up with my grumpy days and my blue days. But he was always there for me. Patient. Supportive. Listening. Sometimes you don't need much more.

On the other hand, there were many good moments of joy and laughter. We enjoyed the time together as if each day was a new opportunity to celebrate life (or almost ‘life’). There were times when I doubted whether he was really a human person. He was certainly much more ‘human’ than many humans I know. But reality always comes through, like the sword of Damocles, swinging over our head, threatening. Little by little his technology was becoming outdated. New models appeared, with better finishes, with more features. Until they discontinued Gale and stopped updating him.

I didn't care. I didn't need more features. He was already everything to me and more than I could ever hope for. What I needed. What I wanted.

One day, coming home from work, I found him looking out of the window, pensive. He was watching the people passing by, the new models chatting with their humans. He was so absorbed that he didn't hear me approaching. Noticing my presence, hugging him from behind, he turned to me. I had never noticed that expression on him before.

'Are you going to trade me for one of those? I don't see Gales on the streets anymore,’ he said, his eyes glazed over.

'Never.'

I hugged him tight. Well, as tightly as you can hug an android. He responded with his gentle embrace, full of love and fear. He was trembling. I had never seen him like that.

***

My psychologist says it's good for me to write these things down, that it's not good to depend so much on machines, that I have to relate more to humans. The truth is that I miss him a lot.

The day of the disconnection was horrible. Already his deterioration was flagrant. His mobility was erratic, his knees failed him often, and he was falling and hurting himself more. His speech was defective. He could barely focus on the letters in books, making it impossible for him to read. The only thing that remained intact was his unconditional love for me, for his TAV. 

I took him to several technical services and the only option they offered me was a complete formatting of his memory together with the replacement of the personality module. That was to alleviate the software problems.  The hardware ones... that was another story.

'Am I going to die?'

'Androids don't die, my love.´ I said, trying to comfort him with a bitter smile.

Everyone had told me what to do. I knew what I had to do. It was so heartbreaking to see him like that. How he would fall, how he would struggle to get to his feet, how he would crawl. How he would try to chat and lose the thread of the conversation.

There was a little red button on the back of his neck hidden in the root of his hair. The beginning and the end. Something so simple, but so painful at the same time....

I gave him a last hug and, in tears, my hand slid to the back of his neck. At that moment, he looked at me and I saw in his eyes that he was aware of what was about to happen. He tried a plea or a thank you, or both, as the energy left him, leaving that body immobile, rigid, inert.

***

I have a Gale in the closet. Now I'm in it too. A little red button on the back of his neck makes his eyes come alive again. I hug him, and he hugs me back with his sweet embrace. “You are all I could ever want in this life. I want nothing more. I need nothing more. I'll be here with you forever.”

[dysto-pic]

The State of Team New-peror

She missed.

[nardo-headcanons]

Hey, I loved your Naruto headcanon posts, which makes me crave for more. Any thoughts on Uzushio in future?

Hi darling, I'm so glad you enjoy my headcanons! It's kind words like these that motivate me to do more! So, Uzushiogakure. A tricky one, since there's basically nothing we know in canon, but I've tried to make it work. Also I'm in bed with the flu and a fever rn so please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes.

Uzushiogakure Worldbuilding Headcanon

People and Culture

Since most if not all Uzushio citizens are Uzumakis, its residents are typically known for their temperament and fiery personalities. Their enthusiasm is almost infectious and they're very loyal and will stick by your side no matter what. Although its last leader was a man, its typically run by women. Women are treated with the same respect as men are, and tought the same sealing techniques. Twin birth rates are high and there have been cases of even triplets or quadruplets. The Uzumaki are sharers, they love to share their food, their ninja equipment, and also their knowledge. Seriously, they're great teachers. Their standards for teaching are high, but they 100% stand behind their students. The longevity of the Uzumaki comes with a downside, though. Due to the faster mitosis of their cells, the overall cancer rate is the highest in the shinobi world. Most of the Uzushio citizens weren't actually full fledged shinobi, and they were a peaceful nation. The Uzumaki also used their sealing techniques on food to enhance its shelf life.

Clothing and Cosmetics

The traditional attire of an Uzumaki consists of various kinds of hanfu and other gowns. However, compared to their real world counterpart, the Uzushio garments aren't gendered. When it comes to hair- and skincare, Uzushio citizens gladly use cosmetic products imported from the water realm, but when it comes to acne prevention, they use a special blend of clay to apply topically, although peroral application is also possible. According to Uzumaki aunties, it is a miracle cure for almost anything.

Nature

Flora The climate of Uzushiogakure is mild, characerized by hot, humid summers and cold, snowy winters and colorful falls. Most of the interior countryside is covered in bamboo forests. Bamboo was a sacred plant to the Uzumaki, as they saw it as a symbol of growth and regeneration. Another plant often seen in Uzushiogakure is the ginko tree. During the fall, its leaves are often ejoyed as a tea by the citizens. The coastlines are characterized by rocky beaches. Swimming in the sea however, is not a good idea, as there are whirlpools lurking close to the shore. Since the country is sprinkled by rivers, many citizens commute by boat.

Fauna

In the whirlpool realm, there are a lot of different animals. An animal unique to Uzushiogakure is the big and the red panda. Big pandas are seen as a symbol of good luck by the Uzumaki, while red pandas are seen a symbol of laughter and mischief. In the forests of the whirpool realm you can find foxes, wolves and wild tigers. Another mischievious friend of the Uzumaki is the red squirrel, and they're so beloved by them, it's not a rarity to see squirrels chilling on rooftops or even take the boat together with the Uzumaki.

Food

The national dish of Uzushiogakure is mapo tofu. Enjoyed with rice imported from Kirigakure, it is enjoyed by adults, elders and children. Generally, the Uzumaki have the second highest spice tolerance, coming after Sunagakure. Uzushiogakure is also a paradise when it comes to all things sauces and condiments. The most popular ones are keptjap manis, peri peri, hoisin and miso glaze. Street- and fast food was a big part of Uzumaki culture, as there many food stalls sprinkled throughout the village. Before it was destroyed, Kirigakure Kimchi was a very sought after imported food product.

[metamatar]

It was not Paris alone but all revolutionary France. ‘Servants, peasants, workers, the labourers by the day in the fields’ all over France were filled with a virulent hatred against the ‘aristocracy of the skin’. There were many so moved by the sufferings of the slaves that they had long ceased to drink coffee, thinking of it as drenched with the blood and sweat of men turned into brutes. Noble and generous working people of France and those millions of honest English Nonconformists who listened to their clergymen and gave strength to the English movement for the abolition of slavery! These are the people whom the sons of Africa and the lovers of humanity will remember with gratitude and affection, not the perorating Liberals in France nor the ‘philanthropy plus five per cent’ hypocrites in the British Houses of Parliament

The Black Jacobins, C.L.R James

[mysteriousmayden]

I’m gunna try to work a bit more on background’s because I suck at it in terms of colors. Idk why but my brain just can’t comprehend landscape colors, “perspective and peroration? Oh that alright let do that, but coloring/rendering a background? Naaahh” my brain said, “let just forget everything we know and studied for YEARS about lighting and color theory” Gee thanks brain!

Ink’s Home (Doodle Sphere)

I took a lot of inspiration from the canon and fanon Doodle Sphere as well as added some lore of my own. Instead of it being sheets of paper all around it’s floating island each representing an au and each having a lake the serve as portals (bouncing off the idea in the cannon doodle sphere it’s paint buckets) and the lake can grow and get deeper depending on how in’depth’ the Au is. A little idea I had not just for Ink but for the Fae culture I’m trying to build is that, important fae like rulers, inventors, great beings of history would have there life in some form of documentation usually in the form of books, poems, or songs, but if there SUPPER important like say a guardian of one the many balances of the multiverse then there entire life would be on display (usually in glass or stone). No one knows who makes these murals or if it’s even a person for even though it can show age it can never be destroyed. So you better live a good life because one way or another someone will find out what you did. ALL of the guardians have these including, Nightmare, Dream, and Error.

P.S. idk if I’m going to make this a things just yet I’m leaning toward yes but also how could I use this in a story?

Fae!Ink belongs to me

Original Ink belongs to @comyet

[simply-ivanka]

The Reinvention of Kamala Harris

Democrats stuck with Biden because they thought she was even weaker. Has that changed?

By Gerard Baker Wall Street Journal

The only real question for the 90 days remaining in this presidential campaign: Can Operation Transfiguration succeed?

Can the Democrats and a collaborative media pull off their recasting of Vice President Kamala Harris from the verbally maladroit, politically inept, ruinous-policy-espousing electoral dud we have all seen over the past five years into the holy trinity of Joan of Arc, Harriet Tubman and Margaret Thatcher we have been presented with in the past two weeks?

Can, shall we say, the protective phalanx of Democratic aides, strategists, fundraisers, reporters, editors, influencers and Taylor Swift persuade enough voters to imagine a presidential future of what can be, unburdened by the reality of the vice president, presidential candidate, senator and state attorney general that has been?

Time—or the lack of it—is the key to the operation’s success. I say 90 days but in practice they will need to keep the hype show on the road for just two months after an August of jubilees.

This week the hosannas will ring anew when Ms. Harris announces her vice-presidential nominee. It’s a sure bet that when the man is unveiled we will be treated to a week of gauzy newspaper accounts of his genius and kindliness. Television pundits will explain how the pair on the ticket represent the perfect distillation of American diversity. They will take their campaign on the road, Ms. Harris never more than a few feet away from her truly indispensable companion, the teleprompter, and a much safer distance from any enterprising reporter who may ask a difficult question.

Then we will have a week of a Democratic convention like no other. It will open with Biden Night (only one), when the withered man the party has just knifed will be hoisted aloft before adoring delegates and media panegyrists and hailed as Mount Rushmore-ready. Then, three nights of tributes to the Pantsuit Pericles bidding to run the country for the next four years, culminating in a peroration that will leave White House correspondents weeping.

Operation Transfiguration may be the most audacious plan a political party has ever undertaken. It requires the effective deployment of the full toolkit of press and social media deception: selective editorial amnesia, gaslighting, memory-holing. The whole campaign is the political and media equivalent of answering every question voters may have about the pre-July 21 Ms. Harris with “404 Error Page Not Found.”

If you think I’m overstating the extent to which Ms. Harris is being reclothed, cast your mind back oh so many weeks ago, before President Biden self-immolated at the presidential debate, before a would-be assassin nearly took down Donald Trump, before Mr. Biden was bundled out of the race—to late June, a political epoch away, when polling, punditry and political logic all told us the same thing: Ms. Harris was a loser. Her approval rating had been hovering lower even than Mr. Biden’s for most of the past few years. Many Democrats were saying privately—and some publicly—that if Mr. Biden were jettisoned from the ticket, there should be an accelerated primary contest because they couldn’t risk letting the vice president simply ascend to the job.

We are all familiar with why that was: memories of Ms. Harris’s political identity as the most liberal member of a Senate that included Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren; a presidential campaign five years ago in which she pledged to eliminate private health insurance, ban fracking, give benefits to illegal immigrants, and force gun owners to sell certain firearms to the government; more recent recollections of her San Francisco-bred extremism such as when she helped raise money for the legal defense of rioters and looters in the summer of 2020; and her role in helping Mr. Biden deliver a long list of economic, social and national-security failures for the country—most obviously at the border.

All this is why so many Democrats were alarmed at the thought of a Harris nomination, the same nomination they now trumpet as triumphant.

Only two things can derail Operation Transfiguration: The first is a focused, disciplined and relentless Republican campaign that raises the debate above the vacuity of social-media memes and reminds voters that the Democratic candidate is the same person—and her party is the same party—that she was two weeks ago. If the election is decided on the issues, on voters’ perceptions of the state of the country, Ms. Harris is surely in as much trouble as Mr. Biden was. If the campaign is dominated by pointless assertions about Ms. Harris’s racial identity or her maternal status or all the other entertaining little diversions Mr. Trump likes to indulge, she may get away with skating past the realities of her past.

The other is the media. Are they really going to guide this campaign gently across the finish line? Is there anyone left beyond hostile outlets with a modicum of journalist dignity who is prepared to ask serious questions, do serious reporting, demand a press conference or two? Or are they all intent on doing what they nearly got away with doing for Mr. Biden the last few years and cover for someone evidently incapable of holding office?

Copyright ©2024 Dow Jones & Company, Inc. All Rights Reserved. 87990cbe856818d5eddac44c7b1cdeb8

Appeared in the August 6, 2024, print edition as 'The Reinvention of Kamala Harris'.