#9 days of summer

[mashirodayo]

@infidgetweek day 2

coffee date at a real location, used my only photo of the café as reference lol it actually became useful

the location in question: Auro Chocolate Café, Bonifacio Global City, Taguig, Metro Manila, Philippines

this one is taken from Google, but that corner is the exact same spot I had coffee and it was hecking good

[critter-covenant]

quick little thing before i go die for a week, toodles!

[razorblade180]

9 days of Lancaster Day 2: Dealer’s Choice

Ruby:Please be nice.

Summer:I will.

Ruby:I mean it! I like him a lot!

Summer:Relax. I’m not your father.

Ruby: *opens door* Mom, meet Jaune. Jaune, this is my-

Summer: *closes door*

Ruby:Mom!! What the heck!? You said you wouldn’t be like dad!

Summer:And you didn’t tell me you were bringing your father home. I wasn’t prepared.

Ruby:What!? I didn’t- *opens door*

Jaune:H-Hi, again~ *waves*

Ruby:…*squints* Oh my gods.

Summer:Hello Jaune. You have a very nice face.

Jaune:Thank you. I can see where Ruby gets her smile.

Summer:And I can see where she gets her tastes in people. Come on in. I’ll make snacks.

Jaune:Thanks for having me. *walks to the kitchen*

Ruby:How could I not notice this…

Summer:*leans in real close* Love is blind, and apparently shaggy blonde.

Ruby:*covers face* It is!!!

[kindahoping4forever]

Nostalgia For A Time That Never Existed in Washington DC - 26 May 2024

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 9, Day 12, Day 25

“I made a mistake.” | “I can’t stand seeing you like this.” | Guilt

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Contains: royal whump, lady whump + dudewhump, restraints, gagged/muzzled, death mention, grief, collar (implied), threats

WC: 740

One grievous mistake

“Would you like to see your sister?”

The seer nodded, clenching his jaw around the bit between his teeth. How humiliating it would be to have her see him like this: weak, overpowered, bound, reduced to such a pathetic state. But his pride withered. Stronger, much stronger, was the need to know she was alive.

The usurper smirked and departed without another word, though it seemed he did not tread far. His voice, full of harsh, throaty notes that bespoke a deeper darkness than his cold grey eyes conveyed, drifted in through the open door as he gave orders to the guards outside: “Bring the girl.”

The girl. Not the princess, not Her Highness. Her title gone, sundered and burned on the pyre of their old life. Along with their family. Along with . . . everything.

The girl—his sister—the only family he had left.

The grief struck him so suddenly and with such violence, he gagged on a wave of nausea and convulsed in panic that he would die after all, choking to death on his own despair. Dead. They were dead. His mother, his father, his brother, who had still been round-faced and bright-eyed with youth. Tenacious and wild, outspoken and courageous.

And dead.

Yet he, a crown prince deserving of no crown and nobody’s veneration, lived. Why? What had stayed the usurper’s hand, stopped that blade from spilling his blood, too? A stroke of cruel mischance? An unhappy, wretched mistake?

It was clear, all too clear: his whole life had been one grievous mistake.

What if . . .

“Now. Hold still.” The usurper reappeared suddenly, clutching something in his hand. The seer shrank away, but where he could go? Nowhere.

Something pressed against his neck, snug and cold. The seer went rigid, certain he was about to be strangled, but the pressure did not tighten.

“There.”

No yanking, no choking, and no explanation. Whatever the prince had hung around his neck, it caused no further pain, but its purpose remained a mystery.

“What is this?” the seer demanded, but if the prince understood the garbled question, he did not deign to answer.

At that moment, rapid footsteps caught his attention, pattering down what sounded to be an echoing stone staircase, then over the dungeon floor.

“Let me in to see him, please!”

His sister’s voice gasped through the rank, rancid air. He straightened, dizzy with relief—and with concern.

She burst through the door.

A disgruntled-looking guard followed her, clinging tightly to the tail of a rope whose other end was wrapped around her wrists. She strained, trying to reach the seer, as he did the same in an effort to reach her, shouting uselessly into the muzzle.

“Let her go, you bastard!”

She seemed, as far as he could tell, unharmed: a faint crimson stained marred her throat, as if blood had dried there and then been weakly washed away, and she still wore her nightclothes, diaphanous and revealing to her captors in a way that made his stomach turn. If she realized or was bothered, though, she hid it well.

“Please,” she said, her eyes wide and desperate as she pleaded with the usurper, “untie me, let me go to him. Look at him—what have you—”

The prince tutted, grabbing her arm and wrenching her toward him. As the soldier released the end of the rope, the prince lifted her bound hands as if to inspect them. “What’s this, now? Disgraceful. What did you do?”

“Nothing,” she said, pale as her nightgown, “nothing, I just—”

“She was fussing with the window when we went to get her,” said the soldier, cutting her off. “Trying to get it open. Looking for a way out.”

“Is that so?”

His sister didn’t answer, instead stealing a glance away to meet her brother’s gaze.

Quick as lightning, the usurper slapped her.

She cried out, her head whipping sideways, and the seer roared. Neither protest changed a thing.

“I asked you a question. Is it true? Were you trying to open your window?”

“Yes, but—”

Once again, the soldier spoke over her, letting her protest crumble into defeated silence. “Leave to speak, Your Highness?”

The usurper smirked. “Granted.”

“This one will turn on you, my lord. On us all.” The soldier fingered his sword, eyeing the two former royals with distaste. “She isn’t worth the trouble she’ll cause. Let me kill her for you. Let me kill them both.”

June of Doom Masterlist

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@juneofdoom

All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[cannedchipps]

WHY AM I SUDDENLY SO LUCKY IN CATTAILS

[chic-a-gigot]

Le Petit écho de la mode, no. 23, vol. 29, 9 juin 1907, Paris. Toilette d’été pour jeune femme ou jeune fille. Ville de Paris / Bibliothèque Forney

Robe en éolienne ornée d’entre-deux de filet richelieu. Jupe froncée à plis au bas. Corsage froncé, ouvert sur un plastron de dentelle. Entre-deux en filet brodé (modèle du n“ 22 du Petit Echo de la Broderie, qui donne le travail en grandeur naturelle avec l’explication et le prix de vente). Chapeau en paille fine, fond de tulle, liens de ruban enserrant la calotte.

Aeolian dress adorned with entre-deux de filet richelieu. Gathered skirt with pleats at the bottom. Gathered bodice, open on a lace plastron. Entre-deux in embroidered net (model of no. 22 of the Petit Echo de la Broderie, which gives the work in natural size with the explanation and the selling price). Fine straw hat, tulle bottom, ribbon ties enclosing the crown.

[kaveh-a-day]

Day 9

[birdyverdie]

School is starting soon!! I can't believe I'm excited for the stressors of classes OURGH...

[smh0217]

Run fast for your mother,

Run fast for your father

Run for your children,

for your sisters and brothers

Leave all your love and your longing behind

You can't carry it with you if you want to survive

The Dog Days are Over for Ruby Rose

[girlivealwaysbean]

i think growing up is just life repeatedly sucker punching you and saying bitch you thought things were gonna better lmao no you're so naive and stupid for having hope in 20 years the world will be flaming bag of garbage and no matter how hard you work you'll get eliminated at some point

[islandoforder]

personally really amused by the little calendar i had in lieu of a plan or plot or structure for guess i’m the fool - the red circled days are the actual A shift working days of the LAFD this summer, the green circles are the C shift (to which i assigned tommy), the fountain pen scribbles everywhere is how i tried to figure out what scene could plausibly go where

[angelstrawbabie420]

in my quest to quell my pain ive only hurt myself worse. damned if i do damned if i dont.

[compacflt]

what are bradley’s earliest memories of ice and mav? the bits of his perspective on them that you’ve written are so fascinating

fairly unsurprising answer but: ice: when he came to see Carole to apologize for killing goose in ch 2 of wwgattai (sets the tone of their relationship)

mav: something very benign like mav doing magic tricks for him as a little little kid. you know how your earliest memories are always a little fuzzy and always afternoon sunshine? imagine a desaturated maverick sitting crosslegged in the grass in pale afternoon southern california sunshine showing Bradley how he can detach his thumb from his hand and then put it back again. no blood, no bone, no pain, and he’s got this daredevil grin like he’s enjoying separating his thumb from his hand. can’t see his eyes behind his aviators. the best magicians are the ones who can make even their pain disappear. or, playing “got your nose,” holding Bradley’s nose up so he can see it right in front of his very eyes, NO PAIN!, and then making it disappear. “where’d your nose go, Gosling? oh, my gosh, I lost your nose!! how’re you gonna smell? i bet you’re gonna smell bad. get it? get it? —here it is, i found it, don’t worry, it’s all good!” and putting his nose back so everything’s ok. that’s Bradley’s earliest memory of mav.

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

alrighty, here it is~

🩵 The Overmorrow playlist (on youtube) 🩵

The first 11 are songs that encapsulate the mood of the entire story and its overarching themes, mostly about Eph or literally from his pov (I’m on my hands and knees begging you to listen to King, The Next Right Thing, Quiet, and A Little Closer at the very least 🥺)

The 19 after those are various instrumental tracks I listened to while writing and editing to set ✨ the mood ✨ (I do this for all my fics), more or less in chronological order

And finally, once Overmorrow is finished…I’ll add some bonus songs 😃

Hopefully I’ll be able to host this in a better place suited for music (with no ads!) later on, but this’ll do for now. I really hope you like it!!

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 9, Day 24, Day 25

| Blame | “Let’s get you cleaned up.” | Guilt | Failure |

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Contains: lady whump, dudewhump, restraints, gag/muzzle, slapping, magic/fantasy whump, guilt, betrayal

WC: 940

Where does your loyalty lie now?

The feeling of the usurper’s fingers tangled in her hair made her vision swim and blur as jolts of white-hot pain shot over her scalp.

“I promise,” she choked out. “I promise I won’t . . .”

He let go rapidly, shoving her away from him. The sudden assault sent her sprawling on the floor.

“You’re as pathetic as he is,” said the prince. “As your entire corrupt, wretched family was.”

Corrupt? Wretched? Rich of him to hurl insults at her dead family when he was the one with their blood on his hands.

“Not that I mind,” he sneered. “Still, it’s true.”

She swiped away her tears and righted herself, stumbling unsteadily to her brother’s side.

“I’m sorry. You’re all right,” she said tearfully, reaching with shaking hands for the leather ties knotted at the back of his head. “You’ll be all right. I’m so—” Her clumsy fingers accidentally tore at a lock of his sweat-damp hair, making him recoil. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I’m so—”

The usurper’s voice cut over hers again. “Tell him.”

Her hands stilled. “What?”

“Tell. Him.” The prince held her gaze. “Tell him why he awoke a prisoner, dethroned and in chains. Why I was kind enough to let him live.” His eyes narrowed. “How I learned his little secret.”

Her brother, who had stoically fixed his attention on anything that wasn’t her, now shifted. Met her eyes.

She untied the knots fully and gently pried the evil contraption away, pretending she couldn’t see the lines on his face or the humiliated flush of his skin or the sheen of saliva left behind now that the muzzle was gone. “Let’s get you cl—”

“Do not ignore me,” said the usurper. “Tell him what you did, or I will.”

The silence that followed the command felt . . . preternatural. As if her answer—the truth of her betrayal—were already suspended in the air between them. She found her gaze drawn downward, lingering on her brother’s clothing, stained now with dirt and with blood that must have transferred from the hands of the murderers who had stolen him from his bed. His chest heaved frantically. How could she not hear every gasping breath? Why couldn’t she hear his voice?

“They were going to kill you,” she whispered. “While you were defenceless. While you slept.”

A hand closed its iron fingers around her throat. Not a real one, not the hand of a usurper or soldier or executioner. A phantom hand, wielded by the ghosts of her family or perhaps by her own guilt, for her brother’s eyes widened, welling with such shock and horror at her treachery that, as her airways collapsed and her neck threatened to fracture, her heart shattered.

You? His lips formed the word, no sound accompanied it. And then his eyes snapped again, wider now, even more terrified than before. A second time, he tried to speak, but there was only a whoosh of air.

“What have you done to him?” she cried, leaping to her feet.

“I said it was fine to remove the muzzle,” said the prince smugly.

“What did you do?” She took a few furious steps toward him. Games. He was toying with both of them, a cat dangling two squeaking, quivering mice from its razor-sharp claws. Forcing her to confess what she’d done, sowing the seed of blame and resentment so they might never team up to overthrow him, to take their revenge. Muzzling her poor brother with only the aim of humiliating him, then stealing his voice anyway.

How? Through some magical means, no doubt. She looked back, seeking the source.

There.

How could she have missed it? A chain, less a necklace and more a collar, locked around his neck, emitting a faint, unnatural glow—barely discernible, but unmistakably present. Now that she knew it was there, she could almost feel its power pulsing evilly against his throat, emanating outward.

“Take that off,” she shouted, whirling around to face the usurper once more, “let him sp—”

The prince lashed out, and for the second time since she’d been brought before him, he landed a fierce blow to her cheek.

“You don’t give me orders,” he reminded her calmly, watching her struggle to rise from where she had spilled on the floor. “And I certainly will not remove it. How else am I to ensure that brother dearest speaks only what and when I want him to?”

“You’re a monster,” she hissed.

He shrugged. “Perhaps,” he said. “You brought this upon him, remember?”

Tears burned her eyes, spilling wildly down her cheeks and dripping onto the filthy floor. “You can’t do this.”

How he laughed.

“Well, fallen seer?” He shifted his attention to her brother. “It seems you’re the one with a choice to make now. Will you live or die? Your sister was the one to betray you, so will you still protect her, or will your bitterness send you both to your deaths?” He jerked his head at his leering soldier. “We’ve got a willing executioner, and he might even make it quick, if he’s feeling merciful. So tell me. Where does your loyalty lie now?”

Her brother’s gaze scorched all in its path as it roved from her to the usurper and back. She collapsed, weeping. He wouldn’t forgive her. How could he? She’d tried so hard to save him, and she’d failed.

“Answer me,” said the prince. “Was it worth it, keeping you alive till now? Will you give me what I want or not?”

Her brother lifted his head. This time, when he opened his mouth, a strained, broken voice spilled out.

“I’ll do it.”

June of Doom Masterlist

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@juneofdoom

All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.