#MCD WARNING

[sunstormrecs]

ship Kim Seungmin/Lee Minho | Lee Know

tags Major Character Death, Horror, Resurrection, kind of, Gaslighting, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Grief/Mourning, Blood and Violence, Suicidal Ideation, Blood Pacts, Unhappy Ending, Mild Gore

summary

“Hyung,” Seungmin whispers, “Baby, I’m here.”

He’s not. He can’t be. But it's a reprieve to pretend.

Seungmin’s dead. Somehow, that’s not enough to keep him from coming back.

[ladilor]

A podfic for a proposal ficlet 😭by holly, read by me.

[lucindasthighs]

thinks about the ro'meaves too hard and my head. Explode

[scimitar-and-longsword]

If I had a nickel for every time one member of my current obsession ship had to watch the other be shot in the head, I'd have three nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened three times.

Two out of three coming back from the dead isn't too bad. RIP Soap, you would have loved plot armor.

[floralneonlights]

"Cadenza"

Zvahl sibling curse: one is a Shadow Knight and the other is a Changeling.

[shallowseeker]

🎂🎈Happy (one day late) birthday to @whiskeyjuniper (@satinsolace)!!!! 🎈🎂

Everyone remember to go give kudos to these awesome rare, creatively-featuring-Chuck fics:

🌲evergreen endless🌲

(endverse but make it worse, with a spicy fucked up multi-pronged POV courtesy of Chuck Shurley's pervy little voyeur brain)

🌞a happy place to dream about 🌞

(Chuck's obsessed w/Dean and trying his hand at a slow-burn romcom starring..himself)

///

🎁 Also, here's a birthday oneshot gift I wrote about the eclipse cause I got a little carried away last night: 🎁

I will not be diminished

Info: Around 2600 words (~10 minutes) 

The problem with symbolism is that it tends to favor multivariate complexity. (Which makes the narrative rules go a little haywire in places, especially when it comes to representing cosmological events.) Moral of the story? You shouldn’t stare directly into the sun, even when its light is temporarily blotted out.

Read here.

[aphverse-confessions]

aaron is boring BECAUSE he's not allowed to be in the wrong about anything ever as a result of jesson's hasty attempts to justify why he'd be the ideal love interest over everyone else. it's difficult to have interesting character development if all conflicts involving said character place them in the role of a wise martyr misunderstamood by everyone else.

.

[aidaronan]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Words: 5578 Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Background Eddie & Wayne Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, d/s dynamics, Hopper's perceived s3 death, briefly implied child abuse, Grief, Bathing/Washing, No Smut, rated m due to references to d/s relationship, but not a sexy fic, Post Battle of Starcourt, tone: sad but also soft Summary:

Russian torture, the Mind Flayer, Hopper.

Steve goes through hell, and all he wants when it's over is to be with someone who will soothe away the aches.

[toadbreath]

dear john;

simon keeps a journal to grieve johnny's death and we all have to suffer for it..

✒ w.c: 3,5k

✒ pairing: ghost x soap // simon riley x john mactavish

✒ rating: m

✒ archive of our own: link here

✒ genre: angst

✒ warnings: mcd!! soap is dead in this fic. suicidal thoughts, alcoholism, implied self harm, emotional distress

✒ author's note: this is only the first chapter, the rest is on ao3, i might add more to it but i'm not sure yet. all ur comments and tags mean the world to me omg

JANUARY 19th, 2024

They call it longing because it takes forever. It is a yearning without an answer and a desire without a satiation. But that is not the whole truth. Longing is only the beginning of it. Longing is a seed in your belly that sprouts the roots of love, but even as the plant begins to grow, you don't know if it's going to bloom a red rose or a poisonous weed. When you're a kid, you think you will know the difference when the time comes, and you will choose the rose, but the older I get, the more I realize that it's not up to me. There is no rhyme or reason to who blooms a flower and who is pruned instead.

I never thought I'd find myself standing among the dead waiting for the flower to bloom. I always assumed I'd be the one with my hand on the sheers, trimming back the branches that would never bear fruit. But I am a soldier, not a gardener.

It’s been three months since your funeral, Johnny. I know you're not listening, and even if you were, there's no way for me to send these to you, but the psychologist said it would help, and I'm running out of ideas.

I'm not used to having something to lose. You changed everything, you changed me. You were a brother, a comrade, a friend, a leader. But you were never just any of those things, and now I don't know how to find my balance again.

I didn't know how much of my weight you were holding up until the ground fell out from beneath my feet. And now, every morning, I wake up, and I forget. Just for a moment, I forget, and the world is right, and the sun is shining, and then I remember. And the loss is the same as it was the day you left, only, now, the wound is festering. I'm rotting, and nothing I do is enough.

There is no honor, no pride in your loss. I cannot make a martyr out of the memory of you. Your death was senseless and meaningless, and I cannot find peace in the knowledge that it was in the name of a noble cause.

There was no nobility in the way he killed you. He didn't kill you because you were a soldier or a terrorist or a man. He killed you because you were in the way. The only comfort I have is that you went out the way you would have wanted, fighting, saving lives, being a hero. But the way you died doesn't erase the way you lived, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot separate the two.

The first time I met you, I saw the same thing in you that I see in myself. You were a killer, and I didn't want to like you, but you made me laugh. It's hard to hold onto your ideals of goodness and righteousness when you've had your hands around the neck of a man begging for his life. But you reminded me what it was like to have a heart, to be human. You made it okay to be the things I was.

There's not a lot of things in this world that scare me. I've stared down the barrel of guns. I've been beaten, tortured, starved, shot, stabbed, burned, and I've survived. I've faced down monsters in men's skin, and I've killed them all, and yet, I don't think I've ever been as afraid as I am right now. I'm scared of who I'll become without you. I'm scared that the last few years will have been wasted, and I'll turn into the kind of man that I would kill. I don't know who I am without you. I don't know how to be alone.

You told me once, after our first mission, that there was no room for regrets on the battlefield, and that there was no point in dwelling on things that could not be changed. At the time, I thought you were being flippant, but I think, now, you were trying to prepare me.

You knew, didn't you? That one of us was going to end up buried.

I wish we could go back, to those first days when the war was new and so were we. Back to the nights of playing cards and talking shit and watching cheesy American movies. We were young and invincible, and we knew everything. It feels like a lifetime ago. I was a different man then, and so were you.

Now, I look at myself, and I don't recognize the person staring back. I'm harder, colder, angrier, and there is a blackness inside me that I'm afraid will swallow me whole.

You were a light in the dark, a candle burning in a window that I could find my way home by. I was lost without you, and you found me. You saved me, and I will never be able to repay you for the debt I owe.

There was always a part of me that wanted more, a part that longed to burn up in the fire of you, to be consumed and destroyed. The only time I have ever felt alive was when you were in my arms. You were the only thing that made sense, the only thing that was good and pure and true, and now you are gone. And I'm left standing in the darkness, waiting for the storm to pass.

I hope that wherever you are, you are finally at peace. I hope that, somehow, you can hear me, and that, maybe, you understand.

I'm not sorry for loving you, Johnny, but I am sorry for saying it too late.

Yours, Simon Riley

read the rest of the chapters on the ao3 link up top~

[merlinrarepairfest]

Title: all the devils are here Writer: litinthyheart | @lit-in-thy-heart Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Medium/Word Count: 21,000 Pairing/main characters: Lancelot/Merlin Up to 10 tags: Enemies to Lovers, Fae Merlin, POV Lancelot, BAMF Merlin, Execution, Restraints, Intimacy, Internal Conflict

Summary:

In light of half of Camelot's knights being killed in a dragon attack, Uther Pendragon has been forced to broaden the eligibility criteria. Lancelot, who has wanted to be a knight all of his life, is given a quest to prove his worth as a final test before he is knighted. He must kill the leader of the Unseelie Court, Emrys.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51551500/chapters/130293436

[miss-allsundays]

i just got baited into reading the saddest fucking stolitz fanfic oh my god do not talk to me do not perceive me i am full of grief

[regulusblackfest]

Title: The Letters From No One Pairing/main characters: Gen; Regulus Black, Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew. Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Mention of Suicide, Mention of Violence In a School Medium/Word Count: 38,170

Summary:

An unexpected find in Godric's Hollow. While cleaning out the Potter cottage after Voldemort's defeat, someone discovers a bundle of letters addressed to Sirius Black.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55794715/chapters/141650344

[the-ghost-of-jason-todd]

hi. um. do you want to see some snippets from an angsty red white and royal blue ghost au? if so do please click below

[shandy-and-champagne]

y'all. I just read right where you left me by mogiah on ao3... I think my heart is actually broken I can't— I can't go on. I've never cried for anyone the way I cried for Mike Wheeler in this fic.

@morganee ...'angst with a happy ending'??? More like trauma, blood, tears, screaming, crying, bashing my head against a wall, wailing, jumping off a cliff, with a snippet of fluff and catharsis at the end.And that was just me. How dare you. I loved it.

[dantes-number-1-fanboy]

Im not back from break yet but i did revisit a short lil fic i wrote a month ago.. its not amazing (i am by no means a writer) but i like it lol

~ Conversations With a Dear Friend ~

- a dante angst fic (dantes got abandonment issues) -

"Its been a few days since the ceremony." The young man states, staring at the tombstone. A gentle breeze plays with his blue curls.

"I known Its kind of silly but im still holding on to hope that you and the others will come walking out of the forest." A soft smile decorates his face for a moment as he looks up toward the sky, sun glaring into his eyes, the heat dancing on his skin before the breeze blows it away.

"Aph..." He blinks tears from his eyes "im lost." He curses himself for almost crying out in the open like this. If hes whats left he has to stay strong. He cant be weak.

"Everyone is lost. We dont know what to do, we dont even know where to start. How the hell did you do it all on your own?" He pauses as if awaiting an answer. The longer it goes the more tears come to threaten him. It grows only worse as the silence gives him time to think of every conversation. Every "quick chat" that lasted hours and hours. The silence hurts. But talking hurts too.

"I should get going. i have a lot to get done today, your shoes sure arent easy to fill." He stands far longer than he should, hesitation obvious in his stature. "I love you... and i miss you. I wish i couldve said goodbye." A pause as he begins to cry, no longer worried about people seeing him. He doesnt care anymore. If talking causes tears its still better than the deadly lack of sound. Even if his voice is barely a whisper. Even if people see him cry. Even if hes saying things that hurt worse than death.

"..I wish i couldve known id lose my sister too." Silence. Harsh silence. He hadn't meant to say that. It barely went through his mind before leaving his lips. He looks for confort but hes alone. Fully alone. It seems that even the breeze has abandoned him to his solitude. Its as if irene herself wants him to know how lonely he is.

He stands still looking to the flowers beside him, holing for confort but the tombstone stares at him. It bores into his skin, pushing him further and further as he stands still. The gentle sun now scolding hot, his skin melting to lava. The breeze now a harsh wind, tossing and turning him in every direction. And yet nothing has changed. Its all peculiarly the same. Yet so different.

So lonely. So severely and painfully lonely. Now that he thinks about it he hasnt really  felt this way since.. since Gene. Oh. Oh irene no. Oh my beloved, benevolent, merciful, Irene please help. Save this poor boy. He can't do this alone. All his friends and family are gone, they've all left him behind.

It all feels like some sick joke. Some twisted and hateful joke. Only wishing to hurt him. To push him too far. To nearly kill him.

"Goodbye"

He can barely even whisper it out. Despite the desperation for more to be said the word feels final. Like its the last time. Like hes finally began excepting his own tragedy.

This young man. This child. Tired, lonely, and drowning under the weight of those who left him. Abandoned him. Hes been forced to except the truth. The truth that he is alone. He is alone and without salvation.

[not-poignant]

7 & 8 for the writing asks!

7. Your favourite ao3 tag.

The Explicit categorisation or the Rape/Noncon warning, which is pretty dark now that I think of it. I don't generally search Additional Tags very often, but if I do, Hurt/Comfort is at the top of the list when it's not kinks.

8. How slow is a slow burn?

It depends on the author and their style. And it depends on the characters. But I've seen stories labelled a slow burn that are like 5k words long and I have to admit, that's not a slow burn to me.

There's also different kinds of slow burn. You can have early sex but a slow burn to love. You can have early sex but a slow burn to kink. I've read a few different kinds and I tend to enjoy them all.

But I have no fixed idea of how long or slow they should be. I'm not like a slow burn puritan or anything. People can use the tag and I can decide for myself if I think it is based on like...word length and the writing style. :D

~

From this meme!