#historical amnesia

[unfamiliarize]

We all like to imagine ourselves as the good guys in history. It is fun to fantasize about holding the line at Harper’s Ferry or refusing to ratify our compromised Constitution. It’s also very easy. ... 'History is as complicated as people are,' Munden says. 'We don’t have to come from a place of ‘people are right or wrong,’ but rather from a place of what we learn from them about how we can behave differently.'

The ‘Safe Space’ Where America's History is Debated in Real Time - POLITICO

[donotlookaway]

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[immaculatasknight]

Dishonoring Canada's war dead

[tichaona-chinyelu]

The Dinkinesh Journal

Life happens and you get stuck digging up weeds, literally and figuratively. This post focuses on the literal weeds as I am a writer as well as a gardener. I got my first lesson inherent in the phrase “one man’s weeds is another man’s treasure in an elite town not very far from Boston. I loved the apartment itself but had severe problems living in that town. The one bright spot was the plot at…

[angelsdreamm]

Bound by Fate: The Tyrant’s Reluctant Bride (001)

↳ gojo satoru/reader

short summary: when you encounter a twist of fate by dying in an act of unintended heroism, you awaken as the doomed bride of Gojo Satoru, the tyrannical male lead of a trashy romance novel you once read. Determined to escape your fate, you plan your end—only to discover that the tyrant is obsessively protective, annoyingly clingy, and hiding a curse that might rewrite both your stories.

genre: angst with a happy ending, referenced/implied suicide attempt, temporary character death, enemies to lovers, historical au, 18+

series masterlist ↳ episode two

You ran your palms over the absurdly expensive wedding dress, the silky fabric bunched between your trembling fingers. It didn’t matter how much you smoothed it out; the dress felt foreign and heavy, suffocating even. The layers of lace and embroidery that were supposed to symbolize elegance now felt like a weight dragging you deeper into the nightmare. You glanced around the ornate room, the grandeur of it all only making your chest tighten further. None of this felt real.

Except it was. Every bit of it.

You inhaled sharply, trying to steady yourself, but the breath caught in your throat. Today, you were to marry a man known far and wide as a tyrant. The thought alone made your stomach churn. And worse, you already knew how this story ended. Five months from now, you’d be dead. Not figuratively, not metaphorically—just dead. Slowly, painfully, and irreversibly.

You bit the inside of your cheek. How did it come to this? You weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to be her.

Your life—your real life—had been nothing special. Twenty-eight years as a contract worker, with no family waiting for you and no friends to keep you grounded. When your last job ended, you had finally decided that would be it. Your plans had been straightforward: step out onto the bustling streets of Seoul and fade away quietly. No one would miss you.

But fate had other ideas.

It started with a little girl tugging on your sleeve, her big, scared eyes silently asking for help crossing the street. You hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t thought twice. After all, what was one more minute when you had nothing to lose? But that single act of kindness had turned into chaos. An angry voice, an accusation, a knife—it all blurred together until you were lying on the ground, bleeding out. The girl’s tear-streaked face had been the last thing you saw before the world went dark.

You thought it was over then. It should’ve been over.

But instead of finding peace, you woke up in this gilded cage, surrounded by strangers who acted as if you were made of glass. The realization came quickly, too quickly, and it hit you like a freight train: you’d been thrown into the pages of a trashy romance novel you’d read years ago. A novel so poorly written it was laughable—except you weren’t laughing now.

The name Gojo Satoru had burned itself into your memory long before you arrived. He was the male lead, the man with impossible looks and power to match. He was arrogant, manipulative, and utterly indifferent to anyone who didn’t amuse him. And now, somehow, you were his bride. The woman who, according to the book, would suffer for the crime of being tied to him.

The sound of footsteps outside the door jolted you from your thoughts. A tall man entered, his expression neutral as he gestured for you to follow. “It’s time,” he said simply.

Time. The word echoed in your mind as you stood, your legs feeling like lead. The veil they’d placed over your head made everything blurry, but it couldn’t hide the towering spires of the castle or the overwhelming weight of what awaited you. You trailed behind your escort, your heart pounding as you walked through the grand corridors.

You worked up the nerve to speak, your voice barely audible. “Who am I marrying?”

The man glanced at you over his shoulder, his expression briefly softening into something close to pity. “You’ll see,” he replied.

Before you could press further, a sharp voice echoed down the hall. “Where is she?” The tone was low but commanding, each syllable precise and brimming with impatience. “I’ve been waiting long enough.”

Your breath caught as he came into view. White hair framed a strikingly handsome face, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as they locked onto you. He looked every bit as untouchable as you remembered from the book, but the weight of his presence was far more crushing in real life.

“Well?” he said, his tone clipped but calm. “Are you going to stand there all day?”

You froze. The words you wanted to say caught in your throat, tangled with the growing panic threatening to spill over.

You couldn’t find the words to answer, every nerve in your body screaming at you to run. But you didn’t. Instead, you stood frozen as he reached out, his gloved hand lifting your chin. The veil fluttered back, and for the first time, you saw him fully. He was strikingly handsome in a way that felt almost unreal, but his presence was suffocating, his gaze sharp enough to cut.

“Interesting,” he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips. “They didn’t tell me my bride would be this… intriguing.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze despite the fear clawing at your throat. “Do you always inspect your fiancées like livestock?” you snapped, your voice trembling but defiant.

His smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with something that looked disturbingly like amusement. “Oh, so you do have a tongue,” he said, leaning in just enough to make your pulse race.

You clenched your fists, determined not to let him see how much he rattled you.

"I'm not here to entertain you."

Gojo chuckled, the sound low and unsettling. "We'll see." He turned then, motioning for you to follow as he strode toward the grand doors leading to the chapel. You hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. Every fiber of your being screamed to run, to fight, to do anything but follow. And then an idea struck-a terrible, impulsive idea, but the only one you had.

Her jaw tightened, but she refused to look away, meeting his gaze head-on despite the warning thrumming in his tone. She could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears, a mix of defiance and fear she couldn’t suppress.

He straightened, brushing off his gloved hands as though the conversation were merely a formality. “Now then,” he said lightly, his tone returning to its usual playfulness, “shall we proceed?”

With an almost lazy flick of his hand, Gojo gestured toward the doorway, his commanding presence making the air feel heavier. “Let’s not waste more time,” he said, his tone light but carrying a clear edge of finality. “It’s time for you to fulfill your end of the deal.”

She hesitated, her chin lifting as though to steel herself against the inevitability of it all. But after a moment, she stepped forward, the faint rustle of her dress echoing through the otherwise silent room. The veil felt like a prison over her face, but the weight of Gojo’s presence ahead of her was even more suffocating. She forced herself to match his steady stride, ignoring the tightness in her chest with each step.

The grand hall stretched before them, its opulence somehow amplifying the dread knotting in her stomach. The details of the novel came flooding back, every word now a cruel script she was forced to follow. Five months, she thought bitterly. Five months until death.

Her steps slowed, her mind racing. No. If she was going to survive this, she had to act. The script wasn’t unchangeable—not if she could seize some control.

“You’ll regret this,” she muttered, her voice low but cutting, as much to herself as to him.

Gojo didn’t even glance back, though she caught the faint curve of his smirk. “You’re welcome to try, my dear.”

Her breath caught in her throat. The calm dismissal in his voice lit a spark of frustration. She scoffed without thinking, the sound sharper than she intended. “Or what?” she bit out, her voice louder now. “You’ll kill me? Let me save you the trouble.”

Without hesitation, she turned and stepped toward the open window nearby. The cool air rushed in as her dress flared out behind her, the veil fluttering free from her face. She didn’t glance back. The shock rippled through the room like thunder, and for a split second, she thought she might actually escape—not just the marriage but the story itself.

But before she could tip over the edge, a strong arm encircled her waist, yanking her back with an ease that left her breathless. Gojo’s laughter filled the air, rich and mocking, as though the whole thing had been a performance just for him.

“Dramatic much?” he drawled, his tone laced with amusement as he swung her into his arms like a child. She thrashed against his hold, her fists colliding with his chest, but he didn’t so much as flinch. “If you wanted attention, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask.”

“You—let me go!” she snapped, twisting against him. Her frustration only seemed to amuse him further, the glint in his eyes bordering on predatory.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he replied smoothly, turning on his heel and heading straight for the chapel. “Suguru, fetch another priest. It seems this one won’t last long enough for the ceremony.”

Suguru blinked, momentarily stunned before he sighed and muttered, “Yes, Captain,” disappearing down the hall. Even as his footsteps faded, the bickering between Gojo and his reluctant bride echoed through the space.

When the new priest finally arrived, Gojo’s grip remained firm, as if daring her to make another escape attempt. Her glare was fierce, but the subtle tremble in her form didn’t escape his notice. As the priest began the ceremony, his focus never wavered from her face. She clenched her jaw, refusing to let her fear show, though she couldn’t stop her voice from shaking slightly as she spat out her “I do.”

By the time Suguru returned, a faint red handprint was visible on Gojo’s cheek, though it didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. In fact, the smug satisfaction on his face made it clear he’d enjoyed every second of her rebellion.

Suguru sighed again, watching the new couple leave the chapel. He wasn’t sure what sort of chaos the two would unleash on each other—or the world—but at least his captain looked genuinely entertained for the first time in years. That, he supposed, was a start.

[woodland-gremlin]

DC X DP Master Post

Adoption AU

Adoption AU Summary

Lemons? Pt. 1 , Lemons? Pt. 2

How to Adopt Your Clone Pt. 1 , Pt. 2 , Pt. 3 , Pt. 4 , Pt. 5 , Pt. 6, Ao3

Meeting the Kids Pt. 1

Amnesia AU

Amnesia AU Summary

Seen

Hide

Ghostly Parents AU

Ghostly Parents AU Summary

Soul Song AU

Soul Song AU Summary

Flash Point AU

Flash Point AU Summary

Time Zone AU

Time Zone AU Summary

Fruitloops Ao3

Summoning Your Secret Boyfriend Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5, Pt. 6, Pt. 7, Ao3

Meme Sketch

Phantom Zone AU

Phantom Zone AU Summary

Ancestors' Fury AU

Ancestors' Fury Summary

Historical Crush AU

Historical Crush AU Summary

Occult Consequences AU

Occult Consequences AU Summary

Demon Siblings AU

Demon Siblings AU Summary

Black Out AU

Black Out AU Summary

Lost Prince AU

The Beginning

One-Shots

Himbo Turned Beast Ao3

Ideas/Random Stuff

Danny is a clone of Superman and Wonder Woman

[spending-life-pretending]

started reading the lymond chronicles and I truly have no idea what’s going on but I do like the funny words this guy is speaking to me

[bigredmagnus]

Character Development

I am currently rereading the “Empire of Ivory” (the fourth book in the Temeraire series by Naomi Novik for those who are unfamiliar) and at the end of the book, our main characters Laurence, a naval captain forced into the aerial corps, and Temeraire, and the dragon that chose Laurence as his own handler/captain, discover that their government will be sending a dragon sick with a highly contagious and deadly virus to France to greatly reduce their own dragons numbers. Laurence and Temeraire become concerned, and rightfully so in my opinion, that this virus will spread not only across France but through the rest of the continent as well and greatly harm their allies as well. Laurence and Temeraire decide to defy orders and bring the cure to this plague over to France in order to prevent this from occurring. After which, they return to Britain, despite Napoleon’s assurances that they will be treated as heroes in France, and face the consequences of their actions, where they are both named traitors and are forcibly separated from each other. Laurence is sent to prison and awaits execution and Temeraire is sent to Britain’s dragon breeding grounds.

Later on in the series, in the eighth book “Blood of Tyrants”, Laurence loses his memory of his time in the aerial corps due to an injury to the head. Later on in the book when Laurence learns of his actions, he is upset with himself for having defied orders from the government, despite the stakes. Only after further reforging his bond with Temeraire and almost losing him in a rockslide does Laurence realize why he decided to go against the government.

I bring this up because it shows a great example of character development Laurence goes through throughout the series. From following orders without question to standing true to his morals, despite what the people around him, and his superiors, believe.

[ellaenchanting]

Hypnovember Day 10: Confidence

"Misses Weatherby, may I presume to ask you a somewhat forward question?"

"Why, yes my dear Misses Honeycutt. Of course you may!"

"Please," the younger woman said, admiring her companion's fine golden hair. "Call me Amelia".

Her laugh was like a tinkly Christmas bell. "Well, of course Amelia. And you may call me Harriet. Or- Sleeping Harriet if you prefer the distinction from my awake self. I do think there is a distinction there- is there not? I must confess, there's a certain freedom to feeling like I do now."

"I agree, Sleeping Harriet, " replied Amelia. "When you are awake you are full of hesitation and furtive glances, but entranced you appear quite liberated indeed! "

"Ah," Harriet Weatherby sighed. "Yes, it is my duty when awake to respect the social niceties and boundaries of our relatively new companionship. Bothersome. I'm very glad you were clever enough to respond to my curiosity about mesmerism so that we may have these opportunities to share ourselves more fully!"

"Indeed," blushed Amelia Honeycutt. "I...had noticed that you have invited me over several times to offer yourself for my mesmeric experiments. Wealthy ladies like you sometimes have the curiosity to experience it once- often under the guidance of a handsome young mesmerist, mind you- but you have requested my company quite a few times. "

"Well, of course my dear Amelia. You are so tender and gentle with me and I feel deeply refreshed after our sessions. Even George notices, and he hardly notices anything not in a book. Also- I adore your companionship! You are so well read and intelligent and your conversation could delight me for hours."

"Well," the young woman continued gently. "That is part of what I wanted to ask you today. Are you- fond of me, Harriet?"

Harriet seemed almost offended. "Of course I am fond, dearest Amelia! The fondest! Have you not been listening to what I've been saying?..."

"No," interrupted the young mesmerist. "I mean- I know this is quite unusual but- I find myself quite fond of you, Harriet. In that I think of you often. In that I find myself sketching your lips, your eyes, your neck. In that- I picture us...indecently. Together....In your marital bed." She blushed, overcome by her rush of words. "And I have noticed your tendency to touch my hand a little too long or bite your lip when you look at my mouth. And, well, I know that the mesmerized tend to be quite honest as a matter of course so I thought I should ask you in this moment of candor -are you fond of me too?" She was so nervous the last words came out in almost a squeek.

Harriet gave her friend a very serious look indeed. "Amelia. I am quite, quite fond of you. In fact, I find myself besotted, picturing you all throughout the night. Only- my dearest - my feelings cause me so much pain! For I quite adore you but my waking self- she feels it is entirely inappropriate. She is very loyal to George, you see, and would not dream of causing the scandal that would result from actually pursuing her affection for you."

She began to tear up.

"My dear- she will never let us be together! How horrid!"

She dove into Amelia's open embrace.

Amelia smiled, reassuringly. "But- my love! Now I know that you return my affection! Surely we can find a way through." She held the distraught Harriet closely, soothing her. Then- an idea came.

"What if- what if we were to hold this in confidence?"

"In confidence?" gulped her companion.

Amelia nodded. "Yes, Harriet. Or, rather, Sleeping Harriet. You and I will just hold our amorous relationship in the greatest, most secret confidence. Not only shall none around us know but- Why! Even Awake Harriet will be fooled! We will just tell her not to remember and she will experience no unease as a result of our companionship."

"A secret relationship," Harriet contemplated. "Secret even from me. Held in trust and confidence."

She seemed to decide something.

"Oh dearest Amelia! It's like a novel! How romantic!"

She threw her arms around her lover.

"But- sweetness? What if she notices?" asked Harriet.

"She won't," said Amelia, assuredly. "Not if we both are committed to keeping the secret. She doesn't need to know. And it's not unusual for ladies like us to take on bosom companions."

"Oh! How splendid! Oh dearest- I am overcome!" said Harriet, swooning. "I cannot wait to spend more time in your arms. Shall we consummate our love in the French way?"

Amelia smiled slyly.

And, in the French way, they did.

@mentat101posts @thekinkycocktailclub @jam-and-stuff

[cinnbar-bun]

Also I dunno about you guys but when my sister, my cousin, and I played with our Barbie and Monster High dolls we actively made the most insane and ludicrous plot points that probably should not have been discussed by elementary students.

[unfamiliarize]

The progressive myth of history also makes for arrogance and condescension. I said that the notion of history as a kind of force that blows through human affairs is like something out of physics—but really, it’s like something out of Christianity. It is a secularized version of the Holy Spirit. “History is on our side” is a secularized version of “God is on our side.” “History will judge them” is an update of “God will judge them.” To believe in the Holy Spirit is to believe that it acts through—that it fills—some people but not others. To believe in “history,” in progress as a metaphysical principle, is to believe in the existence of a progressive class: the ones who push history forward, the ones who are filled with the future. In other words, us. “We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.” Which means that we have the right—the duty—to teach others how to live. How to speak, think, eat, spend, make love, raise their children, vote. You know how enraging evangelical preachers can be, how insulting it is to hear them talk about how sinful and benighted the secular are? That is how most people, including a lot of rank-and-file Democrats, feel about the self-anointed progressive class.

There Is No Right Side of History

[moesartblog]

some weyer and agrippa too

[incorrectly-quoted-queers]

So uh. My book? Daughter of Or? It's #18 in new gay horror releases???

At least for today, I am peers with bookish icon CHUCK TINGLE???

I could die. This is bliss.

.

.

.

....But also it would be crazy right if I got like, top ten right?

[queen-mabs-revenge]

i can't believe i'm seeing LISTEN UP FUCKWADS PULL UP YOUR DIAPER AND VOTE FOR BIDEN posts in 2023

bruh...how the fuck do you think we got here???

[gravitasmalfunction]

Just finished Never a Hero, now chewing the walls in anticipation of Vanessa Len’s third book.

[neproxrezi]

tried the amnesia: the bunker demo and it was very fun! i'm really not good at timed games though so i hope there's an option / mod to make it less harsh

i LOVE the gun animations, checking the revolver barrel and slowly loading your paltry collection of bullets then looking at the empty chambers when you aim it to check how many are left