#darkest before dawn

[knickknacksandallthat]

Are jerejean aware that both of them had a thing with Kevin or did they just not share that in case it made things weird?

*Slight spoilers for Dead of Night & Darkest Before Dawn below...read at your own risk*

At this exact point in the series, I'm going to say no, they're not aware because:

a.) Jeremy knows that there's a lot of trauma surrounding Jean's past in the Nest and never wants to push him on who he did things with. So he doesn't ask - he only listens to what Jean is willing to tell him.

Jean, in turn, had VERY mixed feelings about Kevin after being saved from the Nest by Renee. It takes him a full year with the Trojans to allow himself to be angry about what happened to him and process it while understanding that it wasn't Kevin's fault. That Kevin was always on his side. But by the time he figures that all out, Jeremy and he started dating. So right now, I think Jean does think it's weird to bring it up and doesn't want to anyway because that would mean trying to pinpoint exactly what Kevin means to him...

b.) On the other hand, Jean technically has no idea what happened when Kevin visited California for that one training camp because Kevin never told him. So there's no reason for him to ask Jeremy if anything ever happened between the two.

Jeremy, on the other hand, purposefully doesn't tell Jean about Kevin. Because he knows Kevin is a sore topic while Jean is healing, and he doesn't want Jean to think he's solely influenced by Kevin. He wants Jean to trust him, and telling him how he kinda sorta almost had a thing with the striker probably isn't the way to get him on his side. Then, of course, things happened, and they started dating...and now Jeremy tells himself that Kevin belongs in the past. In the "before Jean" category. Because he's definitely no longer interested in the man. Nope. Not at all...

Good question, anon. Stay tuned. 😉

#fic asks #lovely people #kevin day #dead of night #darkest before dawn #aftg #all for the game #jeremy knox #jean moreau

[poetry-rivers]

Three days into the new year, and despite the lack of adequate light, our white phalaenopsis orchid has eased open a third delicate bloom. Perhaps coaxed by the warmth of the woodstove a few feet away, the orchid thrives in its tiny pot shaped like the shell of a nautilus, sending out new stems and glossy leaves, its aerial roots—green at the tips— reaching upward like tentacles to sip the morning air. These blooms stir something too long asleep in me, proving with stillness and slow growth what I haven’t been able to trust these past few months—that hope and grace still reign in certain sectors of the living world, that there are laws which can never be overturned by hateful words or the wishes of power-hungry men. Be patient, this orchid seems to say, and reveal your deepest self even in the middle of winter, even in the darkness before the coming dawn.

James Crews, "Darkest Before Dawn"

#poem #poetry #to reread #james crews #darkest before dawn

[brainbakerymag]

"Darkest Before Dawn": Yung Sol's Newest Release Sets the Bar For Michigan Rap

Michigan rapper Yung Sol has ignited the hip-hop world with the release of his latest album “Darkest Before Dawn.” The highly anticipated record features hit songs like “Living Like This” and “Mixin,” which highlight the artist’s unique blend of trap and hip-hop. However, what sets this album apart from the rest is the powerful and personal introduction. “Into The Dawn,” the opening track on the…

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#darkest before dawn #yung sol

[vngelskyy]

#darkest before dawn #pusha t

[rainbow-squirrels-7]

And three! Smiles go for miles!

(split under the cut for better viewing!)

#pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon mystery dungeon explorers of sky #pokemon #My art #eevee #riolu #pmd grovyle #pmd dusknoir #pmd celebi #this took like... 12 hours? according to my procreate app. It feels like shorter than that but whatev #also... grovyle and dusknoir are doing ace attorney poses in the dimensional hole... #I realized that halfway through and now you do too if you're reading this #eevee is Cinder and Riolu is Percy btw #they're from my old PMD fanfic Darkest Before the Dawn which is still on AO3 tbh #maybe one day I'll pick it up again #how bout this- nintendo if you give me a EoS remake or new PMD game I'll pick up DBtD again. deal?

[encantober-official]

#encantober

Encantober is an Encanto fandom event with themes for each day of the month of October (link to theme list in a copy/pasteable format Here), inspired by the concept of Inktober. Encantober is open to any and all content, including art, drabbles, one-shots, and more.

Fanworks can be shared via the #Encantober tag on tumblr and/or posted as part of the AO3 collection HERE.

Rules:

Works must be a part of the Encanto (2021) fandom. OCs, AUs, and crossovers are permitted.

Works must adhere to one of the Encantober themes.

Series of Encantober works are welcome.

No incest.

QA:

Q: Can I link prompts together? Or multiple prompts into one work? A: Linking works together to create a story series is a wonderfully creative idea! However, combining multiple prompts into one work defeats the purpose of the daily prompt challenge. Each work (or chapter in a series) should focus on one prompt.

Q: Do I have to participate every day? A: You do not have to participate every day. This is meant to be fun, so please don’t stress yourself out. 

Q: Do I need to publish my work on the specific day listed? A: No. We ask that you not publish before the specific day you're filling, but we will reblog late entries.

Q: Why aren’t my posts being reblogged? A: Either you posted it out of order (we will reblog late prompts, but not early ones!), forgot to tag #Encantober, or the admin team just missed it! We’re doing the best we can across timezones <3 

Browse:

Use the links below to find the works for each prompt in our archive!

1 Sunset, 2 Siblings, 3 Reunion, 4 Mystery, 5 Cold, 6 Heart, 7 Storm, 8 Question, 9 Time, 10 Help, 11 Liminal, 12 Nerves, 13 Fear, 14 Safety, 15 Midnight, 16 Grief, 17 Home, 18 Sleep, 19 Clock, 20 Vision, 21 Age, 22 Reflection, 23 Roots, 24 Memory, 25 Quiet, 26 Lost, 27 Grave, 28 Moon, 29 Mask, 30 Blood, 31 Sunrise

#encanto #encantober #encanto fandom event #daily prompts #encanto disney #The prompts are darkest before the dawn ;)

[daggerandrose]

Darkest Before the Dawn, 50.5k, by amomentoflove (me)

Harry Styles has standards. His coffee must be a cold brew with one pump of vanilla and a splash of cold cream. His computer must be catty-cornered on his left. His sketchbook must be directly in the center of his desk. He must have a cork board on his right to pin fabrics, sketches, and other inspirations he finds.

But most importantly, his space,—work or living,—must be organized. He doesn’t understand how people live otherwise. Everything has a place and it must be in its place in order for him to get anything done. Which is why he grits his teeth every time when he walks into the fashion workroom and sees Louis Tomlinson’s workspace.

It’s chaos. He’s chaos personified. He’s annoying, loud, and well… not as creative as Harry is. His designs are unimaginative and plain. Harry doesn’t understand how Louis managed to be accepted into the fashion program, but he supposes some people have to slip through the system.

written for the @onedirectionbigbang | artwork by @mayflowersinapril

buy me a coffee?

#big bang 23 #darkest before the dawn #mine #hlsource #hlficlibrary #ficsfor4am #trackinghome #allwaswell16 #tracksintheam #hlcreators

[twilight-blonde-beauty]

Darkest Before the Dawn

(Barren wasteland, Hokkaido)

For a supposed Yakuza, you do seem pretty weak.

Fuck you....

I’d rather not.

The woman says, wiping the blood of the Yakuza boss off her blade.

Y-You’re gonna die for this, fuckface!

Now, Now Kuzuryuu, you knew just what would happen if Natsumi didn’t marry the heir.

She says in a nasty little sing-song voice. She then kicks Fuyuhiko as he bleeds out.

D-Don’t you dare touch her!

Like you have any room to threaten me.

The hitman then buries her sword in Fuyuhiko’s chest. The Yakuza sputters and cries as he draws his final breath.

I do apologize for my brother’s weakness, that poison was supposed to stop Natsumi’s heart in under an hour, yet that Samurai saved her.

Of course, i dismantled your little tool, she was so scared to die.

She kicks the corpse.

We shouldn’t be around for much longer, Natsumi is in the wind again. If we are to succeed at my plan, all links to the Kuzuryuu-gumi must be severed and burned.

The purple haired woman nods as she bags Fuyuhiko’s corpse up and heads to the crematoria.

(Kuzuryuu safehouse)

Natsumi is blissfully asleep, safe in her bed. Will you wake her to tell her the news? Or wait until morning?

This post has been sitting on the back burner since May 1st 2022. I’ve had to revise this several times as the story has naturally evolved. It was originally going to be a much bigger event with Natsumi’s father dying, but that got moved to another event.

#Event: Darkest Before the Dawn #Natsumi Kuzuryuu #danganronpa rp #danganronpa 3 #danganronpa roleplay

[causeitsagame]

UNTITLED ANGST PROMPTFIC THE THIRD (out of four, I am guessing)?

Sequel to this and this, and will make zero sense without them.

-----

"So as I have said, all this time," Peko quietly finished, "Fuyuhiko has not given up our location."

Hajime's heartbeat thudded irregularly in his chest. It was exactly two months later, and he'd demanded the long-promised explanation even before anyone could eat.

Since they'd left the islands, he'd settled on one awful outcome as the most likely path. Fuyuhiko had promised to distract their would-be captors; he'd do anything to protect the knowledge he held; he'd said a rescue would be pointless after two months. One week after fleeing, a horrifying potential explanation for all of that had erupted into Hajime, unbidden: a suicide pill.

He spent the next weeks trying to think of absolutely anything besides that worst-case scenario. Over and over, he'd failed. When the day finally arrived, he'd grabbed Peko early as possible, wanting to collapse that quantum state of "dead" and "alive" into some known truth, whatever it was.

Never had he considered something even darker than Fuyuhiko offering himself up to die.

Hajime's jaw hung open at Peko's explanation, useless. No words came. It felt like his throat was swelling shut.

"And you did not stop him?" Sonia demanded, teary-eyed.

"Stop him?" Peko's eyes were just as glossy. "It was his idea. His choice to make. His decision that saved all of us."

Kazuichi looked lost, like some young child. "You both lied to me. I wouldn't… I wouldn't have sent the plane."

Peko's gaze drifted slowly downward. "It was the only way. He knew that, and so did I. If any of you pretend otherwise, you're diminishing his choice and his sacrifice. I won't allow you to dishonor him like that."

"Fuck that," Hajime spat. His blood surged hot as nightmarish memories crowded his mind. He remembered exactly what it had been like to be slowly sanded away to fit inside someone else. "And fuck you."

Peko looked back up and met his gaze with bloodshot, hollow eyes.

Hajime regretted the words as soon as they clawed out of him, but he swallowed hard and said nothing.

For a while, there was silence. A measured voice eventually broke it. "Ultimately, this was Fuyuhiko's decision. Peko is not his keeper. This has been a heavy burden for her to bear, I'm sure." The Imposter's face was solemn and determined. "But now, the rest of us can help. Hajime, it's fortunate that you negotiated that two month timeline. We'll put it to good use, now."

Sonia nodded slowly and lifted a shaking hand to her chest. "I'll start listening for any directions we might pursue. Kazuichi, can you please work on enhancing the ship's surveillance?"

He nodded, still bewildered and heartbroken over how he'd been used months earlier.

Inhaling, Sonia turned. "Ibuki, when I begin listening to those streams, will you help me work through the static?"

Ibuki looked up from where she gnawed on her thumbnail and nodded.

With clearly feigned confidence, Sonia forced a smile onto her face. "Then everyone, let us all do our very best with all of the tasks before us. Teruteru, I know you will have a wonderful meal for us to start our day. Let us do that first, and then get to work."

In silent unison, nearly everyone filtered out of the meeting room on the ship they'd adopted as their new home. The remaining duo took a while to say anything.

"I'm sorry," Hajime eventually mumbled.

"Perhaps I should have spoken up earlier." Peko gripped her wrist. "I am supposed to be making my own decisions, after all." After a heavy pause, she looked toward him. "You can't go."

Hajime's jaw set. "I have to."

"You were the main factor behind his decision. If we all only faced death, he might not have left. Simple death probably isn't worth these extreme measures."

It felt like the room's shadows abruptly deepened. For an instant, Hajime was back across the Pacific, feeling himself be stripped away. "So, if not for me, Fuyuhiko wouldn't have…"

"No. I really don't think so." Peko's gaze softened with understanding. "I know you want to help. But it's like he said, months ago: if you get captured, everything he's gone through will have been for nothing."

"But… I won't, they won't get me. But I'll get him."

"What do you think he'd do if you said that to him?"

Hajime tried imagining that, and could only picture soul-deep betrayal if he even made the attempt. "I just…" Biting his lip, he looked toward a porthole. Through it, he could see the cliff face that their ship was anchored along, helping to hide it in this small, tucked-away bay. "It's my fault. Something worse than death, and it's my fault."

"We'll get him back."

Hajime felt the ship tilt under his feet. They'd gotten used to living on the waves, but he was suddenly dizzy as it moved. He again remembered the unspeakable claustrophobia of feeling like his entire existence was closing in, followed by endless, useless freedom after that existence shattered. Will we?

It took another sixteen days until the question was answered. C O L L E C T E D, came each letter with agonizing slowness. The obscure data route was undetectable, but the speed meant that they hadn't been able to update everyone else on their progress.

Hajime's heart leapt as he saw Peko's transmission. Finding Fuyuhiko meant he'd been alive to find. And even better, she wouldn't have sent that until she, the Imposter, and their target were safely back on the helicopter they'd acquired. (From an abandoned Canadian base along the coast, and modified to remove absolutely all tracking elements.) "Mikan, get the infirmary ready."

The rest of the group was waiting behind him, unable to see the small communications screen. "For everyone?" Mikan risked asking in a tiny, tremulous voice. "Or did the mission… did things not go…?"

Hajime turned, grinning like he'd almost forgotten how to do. "For everyone."

Relief ran through them in a messy, joyous surge. They allowed themselves a few rounds of hugs before Mikan demanded to be let through, with the sort of confidence that only came to her for a patient's sake. Hajime's own relief practically felt like it had hollowed him out, and his hands shook as he moved to follow her there.

As the two of them worked on preparing the small infirmary, Hajime's mind skittered away from considering what state Fuyuhiko would be in when he arrived. His mind didn't allow him to view today as anything but amazing, and so every darker thought that piped up was quickly squelched. "He might hate how cold it is, up here," Hajime cheerfully said as he took inventory of their medical supplies. "Of course, he complained about how hot the islands could be."

"He might like it more here," Mikan agreed with a bright nod. The infirmary was on the other side of the ship, and its portholes looked out over water and onto the evergreen forest beyond. It might be Canada out there, or might be Alaska, but there were no still-living towns for a hundred miles in either direction. Unless someone knew exactly where to look, the Remnants were undetectable. There was food out there, too: berries and fish and meat and various other things that only Teruteru and Hajime could name.

It didn't feel like a home, but it had been okay. Maybe it would feel like home when all of them were together, again.

The two of them needn't have rushed. The helicopter had a long path to fly, and needed a stopover at an abandoned base in the Aleutians to refuel. Slow letters appeared again as the next dawn touched the trees: A L M O S T T H E R E.

"Stay in the infirmary!" Hajime ordered Mikan as he ran for the landing pad at the back of the boat. "I'll bring him in!"

The message had taken long enough to arrive that he could see the approaching helicopter when he ran outside. Hajime threw an arm halfway over his eyes to block the whipping gusts from its blades, but unlike the rest of their group, he kept walking forward against the wind. He could see the Imposter at the controls; Peko must be at the back of the craft with Fuyuhiko.

He's here, Hajime thought, and felt his eyes swim with sudden tears. We got him.

When he could finally slam the helicopter's door open and see inside, Hajime's heart twisted with mingled joy and fear. Yes, Peko was in the back of the aircraft, tenderly holding a slender figure wrapped in a blanket, but that figure was absolutely still. It took Hajime a moment to process that Peko's expression would look very different if she were holding a corpse, and he forced himself foward.

His heart twisted again; this time, only with agony.

Fuyuhiko's exposed skin was a mass of overlapping bruises and cuts, new and old and poorly healed. The scar over his bad eye had been further mutilated; there was probably no going without an eyepatch, now. And beneath everything, his skin was sallow and dry, with cavernous hollows under his eye sockets and cheekbones. One arm extended out of the blanket, and its wrist was awkwardly, painfully prominent. Fuyuhiko had never had weight to lose, but they'd stolen it from him, anyway.

Hajime looked at all that, and at the ragged red tips to all of Fuyuhiko's fingers, and felt a crimson wash pass over his vision. Focus on him, he thought, and balled his fists until they hurt. Think about them later. "I'll get him to the infirmary."

"Careful," Peko whispered. Her cheeks were marked with tear streaks, some fresh.

Hajime's arms shook as he slowly picked up Fuyuhiko. Despite his care, Fuyuhiko hissed as soon as his torso twisted even a bit. Probably broken ribs, Hajime thought, and began cataloguing the injuries as he walked forward. Limited movement prescribed for that. Significant dehydration; IV fluids. And…

The group split as he approached. Gasps and soft cries welcomed Fuyuhiko back to them, but everyone had more sense than to make any noise louder than a whisper. If he hadn't needed to limit the jostling that Fuyuhiko's ribs received, Hajime's arms would have shook by the time he stepped back into the ship's interior.

As he walked into the infirmary, Hajime whispered, "We got him."

Mikan's eyes filled with tears, and she moved for her supplies.

Fuyuhiko still hadn't come to, but faint groans and uncharacteristic whimpers suggested that consciousness was just below the surface. At one of those soft, vulnerable sounds, Hajime's heart seized anew. He couldn't help but kneel next to Fuyuhiko's shoulder, so their faces were close. "Hey. It's okay. You're safe."

That seemed to work, at least a little, so Hajime tried again. "It's okay. You're back with us. I'm right here and I'm going to help you. It's okay."

Fuyuhiko's good eye slit open. His gaze roamed slowly around the infirmary and eventually settled on Hajime, though he seemed to have trouble focusing. "Where's Peko?" The question came out as a cracked, tired sigh.

"We'll get her," Hajime promised, and nodded to Mikan. She nodded back and darted out of the infirmary. If Peko had been the one to actually carry Fuyuhiko to safety, he could only imagine what a relief she must be to see. They should have thought of that and insisted that she come along right away, despite the infirmary's tight quarters.

Fuyuhiko tried to run his gaze around the infirmary, again, but even that appeared to exhaust him. "Who're you?"

Hajime's heart skipped a beat. The optimism he'd used to brick off Peko's explanation of Fuyuhiko's horrifying plan began to develop thick cracks. "It's Hajime. Remember me?"

Fuyuhiko stared back at him, still unable to focus his vision. "You…"

Hajime barely kept himself from grabbing Fuyuhiko's hand to try to encourage him. Mikan hadn't bandaged the many, many wounds there, yet. "Yeah. Me."

"You must be all sorts of fucked-up," Fuyuhiko managed. "Looking at you feels like a whole burnt-out library."

Hajime's arms felt to weigh a ton apiece, suddenly. They hung heavy.

For the first time, Fuyuhiko's eye managed to focus, but he wasn't looking at Hajime. The relief and trust he'd hoped to see directed at him were finally there, but aimed only for the woman walking through the infirmary door. "So. What's the situation?"

"You're safe, young master," Peko whispered.

Hajime shook his head. Young master? He'd gotten her to stop saying that soon after waking up.

Fuyuhiko studied Hajime as critically as his barely-there energy stores would allow. "You mind?"

This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be as bad as Peko had described. It couldn't be that bad, not really. Not when he was back and alive. "Mind?" Hajime dumbly echoed.

"Private conversation."

"I. Sure. Okay." Numb, Hajime stood and stepped past Peko. She brushed down his arm with quick sympathy, but then stepped in to take the spot he'd vacated at Fuyuhiko's bedside.

Perhaps Peko didn't realize that he could still hear from there, or perhaps she didn't care. Maybe she even wanted him to hear. "Young master, these are the people I mentioned. You can trust them all."

"…You sure about that?"

"Yes. I am."

"'Cause I must've burned them out for a reason."

"You did. You were protecting them all, because you care very much. You even went back to memories of meeting them, it appears. Doing so much was very." Peko's calm wobbled momentarily, as did her voice. "Very brave."

"I get that. But." Fuyuhiko took a long pause. "I didn't burn out a chunk of stuff that was just about me. That way, I'd still know what year it was, and shit like that."

"That makes sense."

Fuyuhiko took a longer pause. "So I remember what I did."

Peko was silent for a while, in return. "Things are different, now. Very different."

"If these people know me… did they do that kind of shit, too?"

More silence. "Things are different, now."

"What about the guy who just left?"

Holding his breath, Hajime flattened himself more against the wall, like they'd somehow notice him eavesdropping.

"Hajime? What do you mean?"

"I look at you, and I know I burned out a lot of big memories starting in high school. I looked at that fat guy, and I burned out anything big, too. But that guy just now… everything. I burned out every goddamn thing I know about him. Why?"

Hajime's knees weakened, and he barely kept himself from collapsing where he stood. It took him a second to realize that Mikan, unable to hear the quiet conversation inside the room, was asking if he was all right. He ignored her.

"He was who you were most concerned about. You found it absolutely unacceptable for him to be at any risk of capture."

"He's who got me all fucked up, then? That guy?"

"Young master, that's not… the situation is very complicated. It is not Hajime's fault."

"Sounds like it is. Heh." The soft noise earned a hiss of pain.

That, Mikan was able to hear. With an apologetic look toward Hajime, she murmured something about needing to interrupt them and walked into the infirmary.

After a moment, Hajime walked away with slow, heavy steps, again feeling like his existence had been shattered.

His mind spiraled, veering between Fuyuhiko's horrific injuries, those dismissive words, and his own memories of existence burning away. With each such cycle, he spiraled tighter and lower, and everything began to overlap into a screaming, endless chorus. Soon, the doctors who'd stolen his own memories were the faces torturing Fuyuhiko, and they thanked Hajime for showing them the way.

Hajime started running. He barely made it back outside and to the ship's railing before he doubled over and coughed up a stream of bile. A large, strong hand gripped one shoulder while a metal one gripped the other, and both men asked if Hajime was all right.

"No," Hajime said dully, staring into the distance. He wasn't.

Because Fuyuhiko was right. And he'd been right, when he said it to Peko.

This was his fault.

#my fic #darkest before the dawn or something #last one will have more light but uhh it'll be a cloudy day?

[miamierre]

omg can I have an angsty prompt request...post-breakup piarles, reuniting after x years, realizing the feelings are still there...and maybe its not too late...hehe 😋

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

It’s been about two years since Pierre took off his ring for the last time.

He’d done it before then plenty, of course—nothing aggravates an argument with the perfect mirror of yourself quite the same as a grand gesture like that, tugging off an engagement band and leaving it on the counter before storming out. But two years ago, things had just…come to a head. Pierre loved Charles, he did, but keeping up with him had become too much work. Life outside of racing had gotten very big very quickly for him, and there’s only so much a person can do in the shadow of their partner before things get testy.

And when you’re engaged to your lifelong best friend, sometimes testy is just the final straw. Charles had been in the middle of one of his big Ferrari collaborative projects, spending more nights in Maranello than at their shared flat in Monaco, and Pierre fell asleep alone in bed once again with the ache of not being enough.

So he’d left. Took the ring off, wrote Charles a little apology, and packed the things he was confident were his before disappearing into the cool November night. He’d changed both of his phone numbers a few days later when Charles started blowing his phone up with messages and voicemails. And then he’d gone off the grid entirely.

I love you, but I cannot do this anymore. That’s what he’d said. Two years later, sitting in the dining lounge at LVMH headquarters, he thinks it’s probably the right call. He no longer feels like a WAG working under his own collaborative brand with the company’s latest popstar ambassador whose name he doesn’t even really recognize. She’s nice, at least—Pierre is waiting for her now, actually, so that they can walk through the latest scheduling draft for the upcoming Winter show. He’s still not fully involved in the behind-the-scenes work, but if he can figure out something splashy to present at the next meeting, he's convinced that he’ll—

“Pierrot?” A familiar voice breaks through his thoughts, coming from somewhere to his right. Pierre turns.

And then his stomach drops, because standing before him is Charles Leclerc—ex-fiance, former best friend, the love of his life once upon a time, standing there with a bag hanging off his shoulder and his sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Part of Pierre instinctively wants to fix it, either push them gently back where they belong on his face or pull them off and carefully tuck them into the vee of his shirt.

He does neither.

“Charles,” he greets instead, pushing back in his chair casually. He’s not going to get up, he’s not. It’s not like Charles is there for him, after all. “What are you doing here?” He pauses, then realizes how rude it must’ve sounded to just blatantly ask why he’s in Pierre’s workplace. “How have you been?”

Charles, to his credit, doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes are lit-up, sparkling the way they always used to when they were together on the track. “I’m good,” he says as he takes a few steps closer to be within proper conversational range. “Ferrari is exploring potential luxury brand partnerships, and since I was already in Paris…” he shrugs. “Just looking, is all.”

Ferrari. Pierre hasn’t followed along close enough with their old sport for quite some time, but the name still makes him grimace. All the time that team had sucked away from him—from them—the thought still makes him bitter enough to taste it. “I see,” he hums in reply, picking up his little espresso cup and sipping at it. Charles just keeps looking at him, though: like he’s curious. “I have been working here alongside some of the lead designers of the season.”

Charles oohs softly. Pierre hates that he can tell it’s genuine even after all this time apart. “They found the perfect model,” he murmurs, a small smile playing on his face. “I’m happy they have you, Pierrot.” He looks like he wants to say more for a moment—it’s been two years and Pierre hasn’t really thought about his almost-marriage for longer than a day at a time, but suddenly having Charles right back in his space is crumbling the foundations of his new life like they’re made of plaster. “How have you been?”

“Good,” is the immediate answer that comes out of his mouth. It’s not entirely false, really, but…Pierre can’t help how his eyes trail up and down Charles’ body, how they catch at the silver chain hanging around his neck. The top button of his shirt is undone, revealing the faint little patch of chest hair that Pierre used to tease him about when they were younger. Nestled in it is…

Is the engagement band Pierre bought him all those years ago. Pierre’s gaze darts to his left hand instinctively. He swallows when he sees it ringless in the places that matter. The sight of the gaudy golden ring against his still-pale chest flings Pierre back in time, when he’d first slipped it on Charles’ trembling hand and whispered be mine forever? Charles had promised him, then, that he would—the memory makes him feel nauseous. Forever had felt like a long time when Pierre had weighed his options before leaving—a long time to be waiting in the wings, a long time to be a love of Charles’ and not the love.

And yet, the last two years without him has felt like a lifetime in the most agonizing of ways. He’s reminded of that yet again with the sight before him: Charles still wears the ring around his neck, and Pierre has his tucked away in the drawer beside his bed, folded in one of Charles’ old bandanas he’d stumbled upon after moving out. It’s silly. It’s devastating. The love Pierre had spent so long packing away in moving boxes is starting to leak out at the bottom.

“Charlie,” he says softly after a long moment, gesturing to the empty seat across from him, “come join me for lunch.” Charles just looks at him, blinking his sweet, slow, cat-like blink until Pierre gestures again, more earnest than before. “Please, mon cheri. It has been so long.”

After another long, breathless moment, Charles’ face softens even further. He pulls out the chair across from Pierre and sinks into it. “It has,” he says quietly. “Pierrot, it has.”

#piarles #10 x 16 #fic #!!!!!! lowkey ever since that piarles fic where theyre divorced with kids i have been intrigued by the idea of them breaking up only to #come back together. like their love would be so messy and big and all over the place. the night is always darkest before the dawn etc etc #ANYWAY thank u my love this was funnnn #ask reply #teamnick

[mareenavee]

(Tired) WIP Wednesday

Dragging ourselves through the week through the chaos <3

I've been ill but writing has been a balm! I'm gonna share a few snippets with you.

Was tagged by @thana-topsy (HUGE HUGS! Aiden and Sarel are adorable and you DID IT. You did the thing!) and @kookaburra1701 (I'm still waiting on Book 32 of your fic universe, and will cheer until its ready!)

Tagging especially @changelingsandothernonsense for the Sad Wars which have produced amazing content as of lately from me, for being writing exercises hehe. Not to brag, I'm just really fond of the work! And of course the amazing @paraparadigm, @thequeenofthewinter, @snippetsrus, @wildhexe, @nuwanders, @oblivions-dawn, @miraakulous-cloud-district, @throughtrialbyfire, @expended-sleeper, @inquisition-dragonborn @archangelsunited, @dirty-bosmer, @viss-and-pinegar, @ladytanithia, @polypolymorph, @gilgamish, @tallmatcha, @rainpebble3, @late-nite-scholar, @greyborn2, @saltymaplesyrup, @orfeoarte, and YOU. Because yes. You are tagged. Tag me back if you have stuff to share! I love to see it.

Below I have a few samples from some WIPs! I'll start with World, as I'm restructuring chapter 31 <3

This selection is long, too! 1,050 words, below the cut!

1) The World on Our Shoulders, Chapter 31 Athis's POV as he goes through Northwatch Keep to save Thorald. 219 words.

Still, there was something unsettling about how unnaturally quiet this part of the keep was. The hairs on the back of Athis’s neck stood up, some instinct he couldn’t place screaming of danger. Something was wrong. He’d felt this way once, years ago, before a bear charged out of the woods that time his hip had been shattered. He’d almost died, then, if it hadn’t been for Farkas and that priest out of Falkreath. Odd, that, as it was a priest of Arkay. The irony wasn’t lost on him. Now, however, was not the time to lose focus.

Athis pressed against the wall that lead out of the twisting passageways into a room that looked, from what he could tell, like some kind of torture chamber. Only, the air rippled with some kind of magic that felt like static on his skin the closer he crept. He remembered how it felt when Nyenna used certain spells nearby; this one didn’t feel like anything he could recall, and that didn’t bode well. None of it did, if he was being honest. He got the sudden notion that perhaps it wasn’t worth all the trouble — that Thorald might already be dead. But no. If there was the slightest chance that he was still alive, Athis couldn’t leave him here. He wouldn’t.

2) Storms Like This A secret WIP I'll be editing and finishing soon for a friend. 266 words.

He’d thought back to one of his favorite memories of her, besides their wedding. Before they’d decided to adopt and start a family, they were living comfortably in Proudspire Manor in Solitude. He’d been overwhelmed at first by the city he’d only ever passed through before. Living in it meant becoming entangled in the political nonsense, which Sigyn seemed to take in stride. She’d come home, fancy clothes thoroughly drenched from the rain after being gone a particularly long time on what was supposed to be a local errand, and deposited an old hip bone into a chest by the door. Unnerving, sure, but not too atypical for her.

She took him by the hand and dragged him out into the storm, onto their back porch, all while Jordis silently judged them both from her perch at the kitchen table. Sigyn had said nothing, only smiled as he’d exclaimed from the cold downpour the further she led him outside, but then, even over the thunder, he’d heard it—the Bard’s College, practicing for the Burning of King Olaf, bright and clear, almost enhanced by the storm, music reverberating through the very stones of the building next door. They danced together, on their porch, regardless of the weather. It was if, for a moment, the entire world consisted of only them. She’d laughed even as their sodden hair clung to their faces, and as water ran freely into their eyes. [He] knew then, despite all of her chaos, he would follow her absolutely anywhere for as long as he lived.

Storms like this always reminded him of her.

3) Fragment - part of The Bitter, Bitter End (Unpublished as of yet.) Featuring Nevena Ules as the POV and Orvas Dren. (Yeah. Ew.) 209 words.

Orvas was leaning over the stone parapets, looking down into the courtyard where regular people milled around on business relating to Vedam’s gathering. The moons shone overhead and, besides the noise of the crowds and bards inside, all was silent. She cleared her throat, and Orvas turned to her. He smirked—the same sarcastic look he’d won her heart with when they were younger and under far less pressure—and closed the distance between them.

His eyes, blood red in this light, held storms. She knew what had been worrying him, but she was trying hard to ignore that part, until it was safe to talk about it. Vedam’s overreaching included parlaying with the Empire and solidifying trade between Morrowind and other provinces. Only, there would be an embargo if the Blight situation got worse—which it already was, by the day. And if all of that work was so new, the newfound strength of House Dren would be the first to collapse. Orvas had said as much, and had been bringing it up in their conversations more often as of late, because Vedam wouldn’t see reason. He thought he could see a solution, but even thought of it scared her.

He wanted to ally the Camonna Tong with the Sixth House.

4) Fragment - part of It's Always Darkest Before the Dawn (Unpublished as of yet.) This one is is Danger!Bean Varlais's POV. 353 words.

Varlais never felt like he belonged anywhere in particular, to be fair. His parents had been elevated slightly after a few turns of events when they’d moved with Ondolemar’s family to Skyrim. That was, technically, his doing, all those years ago, but they were still othered by most Altmer of any rank, Thalmor or not. It was complex, of course, and he didn’t have the energy to parse it all. He’d leave that to Ondolemar, who seemed like he could hold every political detail in his head, as if his mind was some kind of tome.

All he knew was it had to do with the Ayleid ancestry that refused to fade into the background for his family, no matter how many generations. Aerissa, at least, never looked down at him for the blue eyes, thank Auri-El, but she was back in Alinor now, doing clerical work for the Thalmor. And, of course, he was stuck here. But at least, if he was here, he could try and save her from them. No matter how badly he missed her, he’d keep fighting. Before she became a thrall, well, she’d always stuck by him. He looked down at his ring, the gold band glimmering with a faint enchantment, the metal worn and scratched. Somehow, likely by Mara’s direct intervention, he’d not lost the thing, nor had it torn through his skin and bone in some horrifying way. He touched the edge of his left ear where he’d lost an earring that way, and was grateful at least in that moment, his magic worked to stanch the bleeding.

As of late, he’d been feeling even more unmoored than usual, despite Ondolemar’s best efforts—the man was seventeen different kinds of distracted, after all. They were and always had been close as brothers, but with so much changing and hanging in the balance, Ondolemar had to focus on the plan. They had a goal, after all, as impossible as it all seemed. The Civil War and the Dragons were mucking up pretty much everything. Varlais also tended to make himself a problem, though never intentionally. Not really.

#MareenaWrites #Many many things #The World on Our Shoulders #Dragonborn and Far-Star Marked #The Heart of the World #Storms Like This #The Bitter Bitter End #It's Always Darkest Before the Dawn #Nyenna #Athis #LDB/Athis #Ondolemar #Varlais #Linare Varlais #Nevena #Orvas #Nevena Ules #Orvas Dren #Camonna Tong #Sigyn #skyrim #skyrim fic #morrowind #morrowind fic #tes #tesblr #tes fic #elder scrolls #elder scrolls fic #wip wednesday

[knickknacksandallthat]

kevin calls wymack dad??????!!!!!!!!!! and kevin calls him firsy to deliever the news!!!!! how did wymack feel?

Ohhhh yeahhhh baby - they both earned it 🥰 (Kevin to say it and Wymack to hear it). I don't think Kevin ever had a second thought about who he was going to call first to tell - Wymack believed in him from the beginning and will always be his Dad. So Wymack gets first dibs, for sure. 😊

And how does Wymack feel? So proud he can hardly swallow. Emotions are nearly bursting out of his chest, throat constricting as Kevin quietly says, They chose me. They made me Captain. Can you believe it?

And David can. He's always known, always watched Kayleigh's boy from afar, and seen how talented he was. Has known, far before he was ever his boy, that he would do amazing things.

But he is his now. Has apparently always been his, even before David knew it. And now that he does, now that he's used to it (now that he's past the shock and disbelief and anger at Kayleigh for not telling him) it doesn't feel as terrifying as he once thought it would be.

(As he once told Kayleigh it would be.)

((As he used to wake in his bed in his twenties, sheets slick with sweat, and swear never never never would he let himself be.))

Because Kevin is a good kid. A survivor, despite what life had thrown at him. A champion, through and through.

David finds himself watching his son, game after game, and marveling at the pieces of himself he finds in him. (That toss of his hair, the way he throws his shoulders back, that stony face with just the barely curled lip as he smirks at his opponent). Kayleigh is there for sure, front and center, but so is David. And it's astounding.

And as familiar as the pieces of Kevin are, it's the tiny facets of his personality, fractured by trauma but also uniquely his own, that surprise David every day. Every day he learns more about his son and, despite Kevin's doubts, David is thrilled by it.

But now? Now there are no words that can describe this feeling. The way he felt hearing that tiny tremor of happiness in Kevin's voice. At how his own stomach somersaulted when Kevin quietly confessed that he was the first person he told. How his voice grew hoarse as he responded, Damn straight they chose you. They knew what they were doing.

Yeah? Kevin had asked.

Yeah, he had echoed. Then, I'm so proud of you son.

And it had taken several seconds before he received the choked reply back, Thanks, Dad.

Now, as he hears Abby open the apartment door with the set of keys he gave her (a long, long time ago), his eyes burn a little as he sits out on the balcony, staring into the low-hanging sun.

Hey, she asks. Everything okay?

And the corner of his mouth lifts.

Yeah, he tells her. It is.

He sits back and lets that smile grow as he holds his hand out, and she gently, gracefully intertwines her fingers between his own.

For once it is.

Thanks for the ask, anon!

#I love wymack #man with the biggest heart #david wymack #kevin day #abby winfield #fic asks #lovely people #aftg #all for the game #darkest before dawn #my works

[kindacts]

the ferocity with which richmond loves ted brings me to near tears every time, i'm serious

#it's heartbreaking to see him so defeated i can hardly take it #but it's always darkest before the dawn etc i can't wait till he comes out of all of it stronger #ted lasso

[mihrsuri]

Trying to get through this next bit of the OT3 verse writing by imagining the in universe fandom reactions to Henry circa 1534-July(ish) 1536 because okay the popular conception of Henry in this universe is that he’s The Devoted Loving Protective Possessive Husband (and like they aren’t wrong but also) who adores his spouses so so much and it’s just like WHAT THE FUCK because he’s being an absolute shit. (For reasons but)

(Or Seymour Men (not you Henry we love you) Are A Fucking Problem cc @theladyelizabeth )

cc @nocompromise-noregrets

#lil and her ridiculous aus #ot3: political power trio #henry’s choices are Not Fucking Great #but this is one of the darkest before the dawn momenta #i don’t know how it’s going i had a confidence loss about writing :(

[superectojazzmage]

To those concerned about the Hellfire Gala and worrying it’s gonna be YET ANOTHER mutant genocide… remember something important.

It’s already been established that the next major arc of the Krakoan Age after Fall of X is going to be titled Rise of X.

Rise.

Like a phoenix from the ashes.

#marvel universe #marvel comics #marvel #x men #x men comics #xmen #krakoa #hellfire gala #krakoan age #fall of x #rise of x #chill they’re not killing off all but like ten or twenty mutants the people who went through the portals are fine and the dead will revive #it’s a fakeout as part of the “darkest before the dawn” moment #this is the big war they’ve been building up to since the krakoan age started #the heroes of earth fighting to stop orchis as a final challenge before krakoa rises once more in a better form

[skyescodes]

DARKEST BEFORE DAWN - PERSONAL PROJECT

So my last personal project has been put on hold for various reasons, but I have begun another one! So this is the first look at the header & forum rows for a theme of mine that is in the works. Once we re-open, the site will be an AU Hunger Games RP and we wanted a theme that changed just slightly with the seasons with one simple attribute change to make life easy on us.

The theme will have a light/medium/dark toggle as well as a font size toggle. Trying out the whole gradient thing again even though it isn't normally in my wheelhouse but my other staff and I decided to give it a go for the site. Still have a few tweaks to make to some of the membergroups though.

Pictured above is the overall functionality with the winter view followed by the spring, summer, and autumn views as well as how the logged in usermenu will look vs the guest one in the video.

#skin: darkest before dawn #jcink skin #jcink skins #jcink theme #personal project #jcink codes #jcink code #jcink coder #jcink coding #jcink rp #codes: mine #skyescodes #ftdh rp #ftdh