#ive wondered so long where they were

[matchandelure]

i fear that the undercover top secret government assassins are growing on me (cp9)

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[inniave]

every once in awhile i have a flashback so bad it triggers a seizure & nobody really knows why

[dallonwrites]

beau is sooo messy i'm obsessed with him. him being happy to see felix seemingly flourishing and being more confident etc but also feeling weird and almost jealous at the fact that it used to be just him that got to see felix that way. that he used to be the only reason for it. and like he KNOWS that's a messy and kind of fucked up way to think about it but he also knows he's in a really weird spot emotionally and can't help it

[so-very-small]

babygirl i can construct fearplay scenarios u couldnt dream of

[girlwithfish]

5am instagram stalking ppl i used to go to hs with. its crazy bc some people are still friends with other ppl from our hs. i guess crazy to me bc i dont talk to anyone at all from either hs i went to nor anyone from the same school district i was in from 4 grade-8grade. i hvent mantained friendships or anything w anyone from any place ive lived. thinking its me. . ...

[florenceisfalling]

like idk. i miss seeing content from s.igne (though i respect gab wholeheartedly). i miss fanart from my favorite artists. i miss older eras of j.se at times (and yes, there were older eras, the way people pretended he Never Changed is just weird). i miss old anti designs. i miss the old fic trends. i miss having a very active fandom (though i am so happy to see the new arrivals) and i miss seeing him interact with fans the way he did on tumblr back in the day. i miss the way i used to interact with some of the blogs here before i decided to fuckin,,, wage holy war and make enemies out of them (joking, but i have seen sides to some of these people that i wish i could tear out of my memory). i miss feeling confident that i could trust the good intentions of people here and even the big man himself (not god. that makes sean sound like god. you know what i mean). i miss when some of you weren't so fucking bitter which is funny because i'm the bitterest bitch alive. idk. i don't think it's bad to miss any of these things because i'm not going to be an ass and act like it's anybody's fault. i'm not going to be bothered by gab for being happy because i'm glad she is happy, and i'm not going to get bothered by sean taking a reasonable step back from this hellsite when people were cruel to him, and i'm not going to get mad at trends for changing because that is how time works. but i do miss things and i know its cringe and parasocial and perhaps even problematic but i hate having to pretend like i never have Any feelings about the past lest i break a hypothetical rule of what is the Normal level of attachment to an online community. okay. i think i'm done now.

[broodhollowan]

Image 1: This picture as a background existed on the Broodhollow website's pre-September 5th, 2013 blog format.

Image 2: More viewable. Here's its transcribed text:

Four Hours in Trucks

The men are boarded into trucks and their trip to and from the ranch might take all of four hours. There they put in a nine-hour day receiving wages from 17 to 25 cents an hour for the time actually spent in the fields. Laborers admit that the farmer has no direct contact with the men in such a set-up, as the work is handled through labor contractors.

(Next: Resettlement Camps for Transitory Workers.)

Charges that farm maintained camps were in the same condition as those of the squatters were made by Mr. Brumm, who charged the State Division of Immigrants and Housing "had failed to establish any kind of system of adequate housing facilities. The commission apparently prefers to act only in an advisory capacity rather than attempt strict regulations." He said. Supporting this contention he quoted a statement from Earnest C. Hehr, a director of the Associated Farmers:

"Due to the general slump in fruit prices for many past years, the matter of proper housing has been greatly neglected. The fact has been recognized by the Department of Immigrants and Housing and they have purposely been very lenient. Housing conditions in most orchard areas are in need of improvement or correction."

Whether immigrant workers 'squat' or pay rent cabins on a ranch, problems are the same. Families are crowded into limited quarters: water, toilet facilities are either insanitary or dangerously inadequate; garbage disposal is often neglected.

606 in One Camp

Following the crops through the state, Irving Moore observed that many of the squatter camps were established on the edge of irrigation ditches. The heavily silted water was used for bathing, drinking and laundry work alike. The water problem proved even more acute in the Imperial Valley where workers had to buy water from service stations, occasionally involving long drives in their dilapidated autos to and from their camps.

County camps, notably the one at Shatter, Kern County, offer few comforts to the transit worker as some 600 people camp out in the sandy fields without bathing or washing facilities, it was reported. No shade is theirs as they trudge across the barren fields to the single well.

Near larger valley towns the whole issue of camp facilities is deftly side-stepped by the system of hiring the men by day, driving them out to the fields and returning with them at nightfall.

[pheonix-inside]

I love no longer being super crazy over ships. So glad I outgrew that. Now I'm able to chill with fics where everyone's best friends, I have an easier time multishipping, overall the fandom experience is more fun now.

[maraschinotopped]

i just realized i havent drawn a single piece of uty fanart? which is a surprise with my playthrough being uh. 11 hours long so far.

[witchhaunts]

Tag drop ft. dynamics / connections pt. 5

iii. ( nikolai / whalefelled ) : a jolly sailor bold that ploughs the raging sea

iv. ( &. nikolai / whalefelled ) : love takes off the masks we fear we cannot live without &. know we cannot live within

iii. ( wylan / whalefelled ) : the light is dim &. you are only just beginning

iv. ( &. wylan / whalefelled ) : me &. you had a long walk home so we decided not to cry

iii. ( zaynab / whocanretell ) : i heard you singing in the cinnamon fern &. thought you were beautiful

iv. ( &. zaynab / whocanretell ) : you would be lobelia on my tongue for the rest of my life

iii. ( arthur / critica1success ) : rage &. ruin ; sorrow etched into the space where bone meets muscle

iv. ( &. arthur / critica1success ) : god forgives ; i don't

iii. ( ada / critica1success ) : burn down the house in search of yourself

iv. ( &. ada / critica1success ) : truth &. beauty are wonderful words but shrapnel is shrapnel

[thisqueernerd]

.

[bukuoshin]

I caught fleas, which means I will be the single most folkpunk housie in any given gathering of indie music listeners for the rest of my life. So that's fun.

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

My baby trees are very droopy at the moment

Im wondering if I should water them more

I put lots of dead leaves and wood in with them and theres at least 2 worms and a grub in the pot cuz I found them while I was digging up the trees and figured they might help the trees acclimate (I have no research to back this up im just assuming that since keeping the dirt from where they were planted originally with them is supposed to help and the worms and grubs were mixed in with that that they might also help)

Maybe also give them some egg shells for compost? Trees like calcium right?

[i-like-gay-books]

i have once again baked a delicious treat and done a major change to my hair in the same day/ night i wonder if this is going to be my legacy to my flatmates

[saintobio]

LONG LIVE THE VILLAINESS !

amidst the tale of sweetest love and bitterest revenge, the fallen empress is cast back ten years into the past to correct her sins and avoid eternal damnation, even at the price of betraying her once husband, the very cause of her downfall.

♱ pairings. gojo satoru, fem!reader

♱ genre. enemies-to-lovers, period piece, medieval au

♱ tags. ooc, regression, crown prince!gojo, noble lady!reader, politics, classism, clan wars, religion (catholicism), misogyny, violence, war, rebellion, suggestive, smut, gore, double life, explicit language, more to be added

♱ notes. this fic draws heavy inspirations from the webnovel ‘sister, i am the queen in this life’ and manhwa of the same name. it’s basically a fanfic of that series bc i am obsessed with it :’D

♱ status. on-going (slow updates)

♱ THIS SERIES WILL SERVE AS THE THE SECOND TIMELINE -> READ HERE FOR THE FIRST TIMELINE (ORIGINAL STORY) ♱

PROLOGUE.

ACT I. THE LADY

ACT II. THE CROWN PRINCE

ACT III. THE KNIGHT

ACT IV. THE STAR CROSSED LOVERS

ACT V. THE BLESSED

ACT VI. THE SIN

ACT VII. THE REVELATION

ACT VIII. THE ENEMY

ACT IX. THE LOVER

ACT X. THE EMPRESS

EPILOGUE.

PROLOGUE 

Like plunging beneath the surface of water and then, abruptly, breaking through to the air above—your body jolted as if awakening in a new world altogether. You drew in a long breath, your eyes fluttering open to reveal the ceiling, both familiar yet unfamiliar in its greeting. Swiftly, you surveyed your surroundings, noting with growing recognition the confines of your old room within the De Roma estate. The estate! 

You were not in the palace of Caelum, but in the estate of House De Roma. A surge of realization flooded through you as you dashed towards the nearest mirror, confronting your reflection with wide, startled eyes. 

No... could it be... that you have returned to your body, ten years prior?!

In the mirror, the reflection staring back at you was not that of the notorious wife of the tyrant Emperor Satoru, but of a 20-year-old maiden, the eldest daughter of Duke de Roma, with fuller cheeks and a more youthful appearance. You could not shake the feeling of disbelief, wondering if this was all just a dream, so you reached out to touch your arms and felt the flesh beneath your fingers, trying to convince yourself that this was an unexpected reality.

Oh, you were back. You found yourself returned to your former self, a decade younger, but now armed with the knowledge of your past life's actions and their consequences. Alongside this newfound understanding, the gift of clairvoyance had also been bestowed upon you.

And for what? Why had the heavens above returned you to your body? Was it for revenge, a second chance, or perhaps punishment?

Suddenly, a loud, deafening sound pierced your ears, and a blinding white light enveloped your vision. Your body became as still as a statue, and it felt as though your soul was transported to a fourth dimension where divine intervention seemed a lot more plausible to exist.

As your soul hovered in the liminal space between life and death, you found yourself standing before a figure cloaked in billowing robes, her presence commanding and her gaze piercing. This figure was Fortuna, the ancient Caelan goddess of fortune and fate, her visage austere and unforgiving.

“Are you aware of the sins that stain your soul?” 

“Have you felt the weight of your transgressions, the consequences of your actions that have wrought suffering upon your people and brought ruin to your empire?”

Her voice echoed through the realm with the divine judgment that weighed upon your conscience, while her gaze penetrated to the core of your being and demanded honesty and accountability in the face of your past misdeeds.

“Will you atone for your sins?” 

“Will you seize this opportunity for redemption, or will you squander it in self-pity and remorse?”

As you stood in the presence of the ancient goddess, grappling with the heaviness of your sins and the daunting task ahead, a brilliant light had all of a sudden illuminated the space around you. From the heart of this radiant glow emerged the figure of Archangel Raphael, his presence heralded by a chorus of angelical voices and the stirring of celestial winds.

Clad in robes that seemed to shimmer with the intensity of celestial light, Archangel Raphael's presence commanded attention, his wings unfurled behind him in a display of resolute authority. If Goddess Fortuna was intimidating, the archangel was fearsome all the more. His gaze, intense and penetrating, swept over you with a gravity that left no room for evasion or deceit.

“Empress of Caelum,” he spoke, his tone firm and unyielding, and his voice carrying a billion years of heavenly existence, “You stand accused of grievous sins, crimes that have shaken the very foundations of your empire and brought suffering upon your people.”

There was no trace of softness in Archangel Raphael's demeanor, no room for mercy in the face of wrongdoing. His presence was a testament to the uncompromising nature of divine justice, his strictness a reflection of the solemn duty entrusted to him as an Archangel of the Almighty. This, no doubt, was the face of a true and formidable executor of justice.

And you, the subject, had angered the divine beings that guarded the Caelan Empire, so much so that God himself sent the goddess of the land and one of his archangels to mitigate your rightful punishment.

“By the decree of the Almighty, you are granted a second chance to amend your sins and redeem your soul. You shall return to the mortal realm, to live your life anew and correct the sins that have stained your soul.”

“Should you fail to rectify your past transgressions, should you stray from the path of righteousness and succumb once more to the temptations of darkness, know that the consequences shall be severe and eternal.”

“For those who squander the gift of divine mercy shall be cast into the deepest depths of hell, where they shall endure a punishment of unending torment and suffering.”

In the presence of Archangel Raphael and Goddess Fortuna’s equally stern gazes, you were keenly aware of the magnitude of your transgressions and the severity of the judgment that awaited you. But even as you trembled beneath the weight of their scrutiny, you knew that their presence also offered you the opportunity for redemption, with your only task to prove yourself worthy of divine mercy.

Indeed, it was by your very hands that hundreds and thousands of Christian souls shed their blood. Innocent lives, both young and old, were cruelly taken at your command. The citizens of Caelum who fell sick from the spread of the plague. The esteemed Caelan advisors of your husband’s primogenitors, skinned alive and speared in pikes by the Tiber River. The wrongly accused maid who suffered the indignity of serving your husband, paraded unclothed through the streets and subjected to the brutality of the pear of anguish. The gallant and dignified knight, tortured mentally and physically in the atrocious dungeon. Now, you find yourself thrust back into the horrors of your former life ten years hence. A life of a noble lady who ought not to be blinded by her destructive love for the empire’s crown prince. 

Yet, could you truly navigate this life without ascending to the position as his empress?

As you tried to commune with the divine beings afore you, a haze in your vision transported you away from the heavenly space, realizing that you were already drawn back into the reality of your chamber, inhabiting the youthful frame of a twenty-year-old daughter of a duke. You found yourself too astonished to move, too shaken to speak, and too afraid to take any action in this new lease of life blessed upon you. At that very moment, your state of reverie was disrupted at the arrival of your maid, who entered your chamber in a humble servant garb.

Milena. The maid whose life was cut short by your hand in your past existence due to petty thievery. “My lady,” she spoke with a hint of respect and urgency, unaware of the ill-fate you had given her in your past life, “A visitor has arrived at the gates and requests an audience with you. Shall I show them in?” 

Too soon? Need it truly be so soon to engage with the people from your past life immediately after awakening to your old, yet younger body? Gazing upon your maid through the mirror, you asked, “Who is that intruder you speak of?” 

She bowed her head, her stance shifting into one of apologetic deference. The way she firmly stood by your door was a message to you that the intruder was not someone you could easily reject the presence of.

“The visitor is His Highness, Crown Prince Satoru.” 

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