#sad!fic

[daisyannewinchester]

The End of All Things

Another picture prompt from this post. This is a sad!fic Geraskefer style. Be warned. It made me cry even just to write it. TW for blood and death.

The fic is under the cut! Enjoy!! 

It’s a bright sunny day as Yennefer strolls down the moss and algae covered path. She sighs and lets the humid air leave her lungs, hiking the skirt of her dress up to stay out of the moss. As she strolls, soulful singing reaches her ears. She follows the sound around the bend of moss covered trees and stops at the edge of a bridge. Violet eyes peer over the edge and down into the dark waters below. The building towers above her, moss covered and weathered. The singing seems to weave in and out of the windows, carrying into the daylight on humid air. Cliffs climb even further than the tower, allowing little light and loads of shadows to be cast over the scene. It is sinister and eerie, but she doesn’t deter, stepping out on the bridge without fear. It is the only bridge that allows access to the building, the rest surrounded by what she guesses is a hundred-foot drop. It creaks under her but holds without fail all the way across.

She steps into the cool air of the building and the crooning grows in volume. The words are mournful, and the lilt is familiar, she cocks her head as she follows it.

“Jaskier?” She calls. “Is that you?”

The singing stops for a moment, echoing of the empty stone walls. The rooms are barren, letting in a little musty light through the arched windows. Her skirt stirs up dust as she walks. She peers into room after room, trying to find the voice. The voice doesn’t respond but she doesn’t need him to, she knows it’s Jaskier. What’s confusing is why he’s here, in an abandoned building, supposedly alone, singing.

“Bard, this place is disgusting. What in Melitele’s hell are you doing here?” She stares around the empty cobwebbed rooms, lip curled in distaste.

“Waiting” is the resonating one-word response she receives. Yennefer still cannot pinpoint where he is. She extends her hand and places it on the dusty wall, willing the walls to speak to her. They tell her no one is here. Yennefer is more confused than ever.

She climbs up the stairs, talking to Jaskier all the while. “What are you waiting for? You alright?”

“I’m alright, Yennefer.” His voice is serene, carrying none of the snark he usually has.

“Where is Geralt then?” She peeks into rooms as she talks. As she goes down the hall a stench fills her nose. She cringes. It smells like dead animal.

“Gone.” Simple. Strange. Yennefer is sufficiently worried.

“What do you-,” her words get stuck in her throat as she enters one of the rooms, violet eyes widening as they settle on the figure in the windowsill. It’s certainly Jaskier.

The bard stands at the window, staring out of it with his back to the witch. He’s wearing a light green doublet left open to reveal a white chemise tucked into green high waisted trousers with dark green detailing around the hem and the poufs of his shoulders. From behind she can see a pool of red staining the seat of his trousers and down the inside of his legs. He turns to her and smiles, grim and forlorn. Her eyes widen as she looks up his body from his feet to his face. He’s covered in blood, it oozes from every hole in his body, dried in his ears, under his nose, out the corners of his mouth. He’s cried blood, tear tracks pronounced on his cheeks. There’s droplets of blood dotting his forehead where sweat would usually gather. His skin is pale and gaunt, round cheeks hollowed out. Horror shivers through her and she starts toward the bard.

“Jaskier! What happened?!”

She reaches for him but when she goes to grab his shoulder, her hand passes straight through his form. He shimmers. If she concentrates hard enough, she can faintly see the window ledge and the cliff face beyond through his translucent body. She reels back and stares at him, ice cold terror a foreign presence in her body.

“Jaskier,” she whispers like the slightest breath will blow him away. “What…” She trails off, unsure where to even begin.

He smiles at her fondly, seemingly unperturbed by all the blood. “I’m glad you’re here Yenn. Geralt already left a few… well. I can’t remember if its been weeks or months. I’m ready to follow him but I just can’t seem to leave.” He laughs to himself, shaking his head and turning back to the window.

“What… what happened, Jaskier?”

“We were on a hunt. A banshee. Geralt took the brunt of it. He’s in the other room.” The bard waves his hand in the direction of the room he is talking about. A few steps and Yennefer can see through the doorway. All she sees is red. She whips around, turning her back to what she now knows is the source of the smell. Her heart is heavy with dread, it races quicker than ever. It weighs her to the floor, and she melts to the ground. Jaskier sits crisscross next to her, seeming eerily unfazed.

“He was protecting me, told me to stay away. I told him it wouldn’t be a big deal if I came along, it was just a banshee. But this one… this one was different. She was so loud. So awful. It was so painful. I’ve never felt anything like it. It was like I was melting from the inside. And Geralt… he just… she screamed and he,” He made a hand gesture of something exploding, “everything. Everywhere. There was nothing left for me to hold. No pendant or sword or any bit of skin or hair.”

Hot tears run down her face, her whole frame shivers as she cries.

“And now he’s waiting for me and I couldn’t go to him.”

Yennefer looks up at his thought blurry violet eyes, “Why not?”

Jaskier gestures to the corner of the room. She looks over to see his lute, broken and streaked with blood, the two pieces only connected by the strings. Jaskier’s empty corpse lies collapsed next to it. His hands are stretched out as if reaching for the lute with his last efforts, blank eyes staring lifelessly ahead.

“I’m tied to it. Some form of elven magic, I’m guessing. I tried to destroy it as I was dying but I perished before I could finish. But you’re here now. You can send me on. Please Yennefer. I can feel him waiting for me.” Jaskier rises to his knees, pleading.

Yennefer bows her head. Her hair falls in a curtain around her face, allowing her the private reprieve to wipe the tears from her face and gather herself together. She sniffs and stands up crossing to the lute. She gathers the shards in her hands and, with one final smile to Jaskier, whispers her curse.

  Nothing happens.

 She frowns, staring down at the instrument in surprise. Focusing her powers, she studies the wood, finding strong magic surrounding the elven wood. Realization dawns with cold dread. She turns to Jaskier.

“This is elder magic, Jaskier. Your lute is protected by very old magic. It cannot be destroyed with common sorcery or by setting it on fire.”

His face falls but he nods grimly.

“It’s alright Yenn. Thank you for trying.”

“There,” she takes a deep breath, “There is something. I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t have the proper conduits and it’s supposed to be performed by a group of elders.”

Jaskier gets up and stands in front of her, grasping her shoulders. She startles. It’s like cold air gripping her skin and she shivers involuntarily.

“Please Yennefer. Please try.” His voice is raw with emotion, a lover’s misery.

She nods, “Of course.” She never wants to deny the bard anything.

Jaskier presses cold faint lips to her cheek and steps back.

She lets he breath slowly slip from her lungs, trying to loosen the muscles in her body. She holds the lute out in front of her and begins her chant. Nothing happens at first and she slows down, about to stop.

Don’t stop.” Jaskier breathes.

She looks up at him and he’s smiling. Color is returning to his face.

She refocuses and channels more power into her words. The wood warms in her hands, burning fiery hot. It sears her palms, but she grits her teeth to the pain and continues. She starts to tremble. The air around her electrifies, the hairs on her arms stand on end and every nerve sings. A glance in Jaskier’s direction shows him healthier, blood drawing back into his skin, face not as gaunt, soft round cheeks making their return with rosy vigor. Instead of looking elated he looks terrified, eyes fixated on the cracks in the concrete under her feet. He looks up to meet her eyes and she smiles at him reassuringly.

Blood drips from her nose. She is sweaty with exertion. It is no longer she that is trembling but the very building around them, stone rains down from the ceiling. The strings burn and melt, dripping to the floor. Yennefer is exhausted. She sways on her feet, eyes blinking long and slow.

Cool, calloused fingertips grip her cheeks and lips press to hers. She kisses Jaskier and pushes out one final surge of power with a scream to the heavens. Stone slabs crack under her. She stumbles but strong muscular arms loop around her waist, pulling her free of the falling floor. She watches her body fall with the crumbling building, twisting and cracking off slabs as it falls. Great plumes of dust rise up to greet them.

She tears her eyes away when Jaskier crows in delight, reaching over her shoulder to pull Geralt down into a kiss. Geralt kisses him like a starved man and pulls away, smiling down at them both. He is scar free and youthful; any signs of aging and stress gone. His eyes are blue with flecks of brown, shining with happiness. His hair is tied back in his signature style, dark brown strands brushing his shoulders. Yennefer’s hands reach up to feel her face and the hump of her shoulder. She is a mix of emotions: regret, shame, fear, dread. Before she can, two sets of hands, one thin and gentle, the other firm and strong, guide hers away. Kind blue eyes peer into scared violet ones.

Jaskier smiles sweetly, nothing but love and adoration in his gaze, “Beautiful, my darling.”

“Stunning,” Geralt rumbles in her ear, still hugging her from behind. He kisses her jawline. She smiles and her worries diminish. For the first time in her life, she finds that that is something that she could believe eventually. With time. She is beautiful.

Geralt offers her his arm and she links them together, reaching out for Jaskier’s hand. Lute calloused fingers link with hers. In between them, she is invincible, prepared to conquer whatever trial the afterlife may throw at them.

[mythicalea]

Holding On

He missed Rhett. He missed him so damn much. Every fiber of his entire being was hurting. Two months had already passed. He barely ate or slept anymore. In the rarest of occasions that he did, the horrible sound of creaking metal, screaming voices, heat and fire had him jump out of his bed gasping frantically for air.

The terrible realization hit him every time like a ton of bricks, crushing his soul. Every drawn breath filling his lungs was a desperate plead.  Rhett. Rhett...

I’m leaving Link, I  know how it is to feel unwanted.

Rhett’s voice still echoed in his mind, his kind green eyes were looking back at him, full of tears. He would never forget the huge fight they had that morning. Accusations were thrown at each other, harsh words exchanged, words that now Link wished they have never left his mouth.

Rhett had banged the door behind him and he just stood there watching him go.

Breathe..breathe..he had to breathe.

He realized that he was clutching at his throat with his both hands. His nails were digging into the soft flesh, leaving behind half crescent marks. He let his hands fall down to his knees, looking at his open palms for a moment like it was something foreign to him. He laid back to bed and turned to his side clasping his knees to his chest. He began sobbing uncontrollably.

A warm hand pushed back the sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead.

Shhh. .shhh… shh ..baby…it’s ok.. I am here.

A firm chest was plastered against his back. He leaned to the touch as soft lips kissed his temple and a beard grazed his flushed cheeks. Link was wrapped inside a cocoon of a warm body,arms and legs all over him and all around him.

Soft breaths on the back of his neck sent shivers down his spine ,a familiar voice was lulling him back to sleep.

“…And I will catch you if you fall, you’ll never have to ask me why..”

He was there..

X

I should probably apologize but it just wouldn’t leave me alone.

[everlarkficquestions]

Do you know of any really sad oneshots?

This isn’t a complete list by any means, but here’s a few.

Deterioration of a Smile - fortunefaded2012

The Hallow Bright - acciograce

Side by Side – lollercakesff

Hope (Or Lack Thereof) - Bleedtoloveher

The Rim of the Sky - katnissdoesnotfollowback

When You Go Through the Valley - dracoisalooker76

District 12 - silvercistern

I’ll Be Right Here - Alexabee

Love You Forever - Alexabee

Where the Mockingjays Go - Marrya'sUniverse

Let Go - Shrodingers-Cat-Paradox

Forever Until - lieselmemingers

Broken Minds - populardarling aka maytheoddsbeinkatewinslet

Whispers in the Wind -  dandelion-sunset

No Sleep - annieoakley1 aka @everlarkeologist

Let Me Go - Jenns_Fiction aka wickedlyclever

We Fell in Love Here - meggiemellark

As We Stagger Towards the Sun - @titania522

Hotel Paper - kattomas

The Japanese Gardens - @herainab

Out of the Woods - @allhailthehutch

Lay Me Down, Let Me Dream - katnissdoesnotfollowback & titania522

Goodbye to the Boy with the Bread - lollercakesff

[cloudmonstachopper]

I wrote a super sad (with a happy ending!!) Iwa-chan fic, y’all should go read it if you’re into that kinda thing

[sarcasticfina]

darcy/steve [sweetheart]

It was stupid.

So stupid to think the new building would be safer, that no one would find it. Gun fire sprayed the front entrance; he’d counted four bodies on the floor before the wall to his right exploded, and then the one behind him too. Plaster and chunks of wall rained down around them and the only thing he could think to do was grab her and run.

Darcy had been walking by when the fight broke out. A mid-morning coffee run for the labs no doubt; she always stopped by the vendor in the foyer around this time. Not that he’d purposely planned to be there when she did or anything... Or maybe he did. He just... He missed her. Missed seeing her. Missed coming home to her and waking up beside her. Missed everything about her. And even if it was just a few minutes to look at her in passing, it slapped a band-aid on a bigger hole for the time being.

When the bullets started flying, he’d dropped the files in his hands and lurched toward her.

Completely frozen, she stood by the coffee vendor with her iPod in hand and a shocked, terrified look on her face. He dove toward her, wrapped an arm around her waist and rolled them down and to the floor, out of the line of fire. Taking the gun from his back, he stood to return fire, taking a quick survey of the area, of how many had infiltrated. Black tac gear, head to toe, and armed to the teeth, they moved across the floor in a tight formation. Professionals. And then the all-consuming boom rocked the very floor out of from beneath them. They had no other choice but to move.

Whoever had infiltrated the building had set up timers in various areas and the walls just kept coming down. They dodged debris, plaster, and glass, rebar sticking out dangerously in some places. Gunfire followed at their heels, and he turned them down a hallway, leading them toward an exit. But boom after boom redirected them until they were stuck, enclosed in a room that was little more than shambles, but just enough to pen them in.

It was cover from bullets, but it left them cornered and he worried how long the ceiling would last. He examined where they’d come in through, knelt in the scattered fragments to test the crisscrossing metal beams and chunks of concrete in the way. If the structure was strong enough, he might be able to move some pieces, create an opening, get them out. He could hear the fight going on outside, knew the team had answered, and he trusted them to do what they had to. But they needed out, and he needed to help.

“Steve,” Darcy whispered.

“Just... Just gimme a minute. I think... If I can just get this piece to move...”

“Steve, I think... I think I’m dying.”

He turned around abruptly, his gaze falling to her. Her back was against the wall, hair clinging to the damp, pale skin of her face. She’d been hit, a stray bullet that he hadn’t seen coming. Her hand was pressed to her stomach, blood pulsing out from between her fingers. A cold feeling rushed over him from head to toe and he moved toward her.

“No, hey, Darcy, look at me. You’re gonna be fine.” He undid his suit, shoved it down to his waist and pulled his undershirt up and over his head. Balling it up, he tucked it under her hand, pressed down against her wound. He cringed as she let out pained groan. “I’m know, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you need to keep pressure on it, okay?”

Her breath left her in a shaky, wet gasp. “You called-- You called me sweetheart.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, reaching up to brush her hair back from her face. “Yeah, of course I did. You’re still... You’re always gonna my girl, huh?”

She blinked quickly, tears clouding her eyes. “I wish... Wish it was different. Wish we could go back. We...” She closed her eyes, her head falling back against the wall. “I loved you so much.”

“I still do. Hey, I still love you.” His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing tears back from her cheeks. “I screwed up. I- I put work first. I didn’t know how to balance things. But I missed you. God, Darcy I missed you so much. And I regret it, every day. I just didn’t know how to fix it.”

Her eyes opened, tears clinging to her lashes. “You’re so bad at talking,” she snorted, offering a wobbly smile. “You remember... the first time we met... God, it was a disaster. You were s-such a dork.” She laughed, but her expression spasmed with pain. “I loved it. I loved...” Her breathing picked up and her eyes grew distant.

“Darcy, hey... What’d you love? Huh? Talk to me?” He tucked his fingers behind her neck, held her head up when it seemed too heavy for her. “C’mon, sweetheart, talk to me.”

“’m so tired,” she whispered, licking her dry lips. She blinked quickly, tears falling, and her eyes darted up to him. “You have to take care of Jane. Make sure she eats, okay? She forg-- forgets s’mtimes.”

“You’re gonna do that. That’s your job.” He sniffled, shaking his head. “You’re not going anywhere, okay?” He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead to hers. “Darcy, please... Please, I can’t lose you.”

She reached up with her good hand, her palm flat against his chest, and she tapped her thumb against his heart, just like she used to at night, before they’d fall asleep, and in the mornings, when she was just waking up. “Just double checkin’ your old ticker’s workin’.”  A sob welled up in his throat.

His fingers shook in her hair as he tipped his head down, his mouth hard against hers. “Don’t fall asleep. Don’t close your eyes, okay?”

“Steve!?” he heard then, just on the other side of the wall.

“Bucky!” he shouted back. “Bucky, the wall. We need the wall down. Darce-- Darcy’s hurt. I-- I don’t know what to do. I don’t...” He looked back at her, his eyes darting over her face. “Keep your eyes open, sweetheart. Hey, look at me...” He rubbed his thumb down her cheek. “You remember all those times I said we’d take some time off, huh? Go on vacation somewhere warm. You brought all those brochures, you remember? You got that grass skirt, you wore it all week to send me a message. I...” He shook his head. “We’ll go. We’ll go tomorrow, okay? Just, just stay with me. Please.”

He could hear the wall crumbling behind him, could hear the whine of metal as the beams were moved, could feel the dust falling from the ceiling.

“They’re almost here. Help’s coming. Darcy, open your eyes. Darcy, fuck.”

Her eyes fluttered and her lips curled faintly. “Language,” she mouthed.

He let out a breathless laugh, kissed her hair. “I bought a ring,” he confessed shakily. “Before I screwed it up. I bought a ring.” His fingers trembled against her neck, searching out her pulse. “It was always you, sweetheart. I’m just slow. I didn’t fix it quick enough. I didn’t... I dragged my feet. I’m sorry. I... I’ll do it right this time.”

Cool air from outside flowed in, he felt it break against his back, and he turned his head to see Bucky, and Thor behind him, dirty and stressed.

“You see? They’re here. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” He lifted her from the ground then, his heart climbing his throat when she didn’t make a noise, not even in complaint, her head lolling to his shoulder. But her hand... Her hand touched his heart. “C’mon, Darcy. Stay with me.” He climbed out of the hole, clutching her close, and hurried down the hall.

“Medical wasn’t hit. Cho’s waiting,” Bucky told him.

Steve ran. He dodged the mess on the floor, jumped over piles of debris, ducked under crossing beams, and nearly crashed through a glass door, but he made it. He made it.

“Hey, we’re here. Darcy, we’re here.” He gave her a little shake, but she didn’t move. “Darcy?”

Her hand slid limply from his chest and his breath caught. “Sweetheart?”

Cho appeared in front of him, yanking on his elbow, directing him to the table to lay her down. And he stared, at her pale skin and still form, his heart hitching in his chest. Cho and her nurses gathered around Darcy, pushing him back, out of the way, while they exchanged medical garble at each other that he only vaguely understood.

He stared, watched them struggle to bring her back, felt the world fade down to that moment, to her hand hanging off the table and her face so unnaturally still.

Steve pressed a hand to his chest, tapped his fingers there, and whispered, “Please.”

i’m willing to write a sequel to clear up the ambiguity of the ending if anyone’s interested...

[nautical-tatts-blog]

here's the link to the titanic fic which saved me yet ruined me btw if anyone needs it http://archiveofourown.org/works/4248429

[black-john-lennon-archive]

Fic: Mother's Day

[internutter]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

It's on AO3 now and forevermore.

Warning: Grab the tissues before reading.

[msraven929]

Minific: A Quiet Corner

I had intended to write a fluffy little minific about Clint meeting a fan during a children's charity event and it turned out much sadder than I intended, so I'm putting it behind a cut. Read at your own discretion.

WARNING: Minor character/OC death

It takes about four months for the Avengers to draw the line - no team public appearances unless it's for charity. Steve and Tony, the only members of team comfortable around the press, take up the slack everywhere else.

While their charity events range from funding the arts to Habitat for Humanity to cancer research, it's the children's charities that they all enjoy the most, especially Clint. He usually hangs back until most of the press is gone and then finds a quiet corner to sit with the kids to teach them magic tricks or tell stories about the circus or just listen to them talk about whatever comes to mind.  

The archer tends to draw the smaller, shyer kids to his corner and he honestly doesn't mind that they're all wearing variations of the other Avengers' marketing merchandise. Clint likes being the Avenger with smallest fan base - it allows him to walk the streets of New York mostly unnoticed, after all. Besides, it's his job to be up and out of sight. If Clint had issues with anonymity, he would never have stopped performing in the circus to become a sniper.  

The latest event is for the Make-a-Wish Foundation and, while Clint knows this one is going to be hard for them all, he's genuinely looking forward to the day. After the initial photos and interviews with the press, the kids will spend the day at the Tower and be allowed to experience a day in the life of an Avenger. Clint has been given clearance to take them on a ride in the quinjet and, although there were express instructions that the kids are to remain safely inside the aircraft, the archer figures that the rule's a goner as soon as he sees Tony kneel in front of a little girl wearing a full Iron Man costume.

Clint turns to seek out a corner to wait out the press, but is stopped by his husband's hand on his shoulder. He raises an eyebrow at Phil in question, but the SHIELD agent doesn't say anything, only inclines his head towards the group of children and Clint's heart jumps into his throat.

Amongst the sea of miniature costumed Avengers, is a thin little boy wearing a replica Hawkeye uniform and clutching a child-sized version of his recurve. Clint's eyes swing to Phil's in surprise - the PR team has never marketed a Hawkeye costume and the one the kid is wearing is way too accurate to be homemade.

"His mom sent a letter to SHIELD, which was then forwarded to me," Phil explains with a casual shrug.

Clint reaches over and gives Phil's fingers a quick squeeze, figuring that kissing his husband senseless is not the kind of attention he wants to attract right now.

Before Clint can walk over and introduce himself to the little boy, Steve takes a knee by the kid and gives him his most disarming smile.

"Hey there!  I'm Steve.  That's a pretty impressive costume you have there."

"Uh...thanks...um, thank you," the little boy stammers before squaring his shoulders.  "My name is Justin and Mr. Phil gave me the uniform."

Clint grins, along with the rest of the room, at the correction.  He doesn't have to look over to know that Phil's ears are probably pink.

"Well, it's a great uniform, Justin," Steve continues without missing a beat. "Before I let you meet Hawkeye, can you tell me why he's your favorite Avenger?"

Clint gives Justin an encouraging smile when the boy bites his lip nervously and glances at him before speaking. "Cuz he's an orphan like me and because he's not a super-superhero," Justin says and then winces. "He's a superhero, but he's not super like you or Thor or the Hulk. He doesn't have powers or anything, but he's an Avenger because he's totally awesome at what he does. He can get hurt but he still fights and I think that makes him even braver and shows me I can be brave too."

There are several sniffles that follow Justin's little speech and Clint, for once, ignores the presence of all the cameras and moves to the center of the room to squat in front of the little boy.  

"Hi Justin. I'm Clint and I think you're braver than all of us combined," Clint says sincerely and closes his eyes tight when the little boy surges into his arms.  

Natasha gives Justin the co-pilot's seat in the quinjet so she can sit with her three shadows for the day and the little boy laughingly eggs Clint on as they zoom around the buildings chasing Tony and the two kids he has strapped securely in his arms. Clint isn't surprised that Justin's bow has been designed with a hidden mechanism that allows the little boy to draw it back even with his weakened muscles (Phil is amazingly thoughtful) and they spend close to an hour on the range until Justin's energy starts to wane. At the end of the day, Justin's adoptive parents give Clint and Phil tight hugs and promise to keep in touch as they juggle the now sleeping boy in their arms.  

Clint, and often Phil, talk to Justin at least once a week after the visit, both of them trying not to notice how much weaker the little boy seems after each successive call. When the time comes, Fury pulls them both from an active op and flies them directly to Colorado. Clint sits at Justin's bedside with Phil's hand a necessary anchor on his shoulder, holding the little boy's hand as he finally slips away. 

There are other charities and other kids, but none ever match the impression Justin makes on their lives. Clint still has a tendency to retreat into a quiet corner during the events, but interspersed with stories of the circus and his adventures as an Avenger, is the story of his hero - a little boy named Justin who showed him the true meaning of bravery.

[beaniebaneenie]

Ye be warned... there be extreme angsty feels ahead

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8216480/1/The_Other_Scarf

*sad!fic*

But so beautiful. I legit cried.

Also, new headcanon created. 

EDIT: I should mention.. I did not write this beautiful thing. Someone else did. 

[everlarkficquestions]

Going to sound horrible but any fics where either Katniss or peeta pass away?

Here are some:

The Good Wife - silvercistern

The One I Need - bubblegum1425

where the ashes lay - fortunefaded2012

Clarity and (moving backwards) - swishywillow

The Strange and Wonderous Gift of the White Stag - titania522/ct522

The Japanese Gardens - herainab

No Sleep - annieoakley1

Lay Me Down, Let Me Dream - katnissdoesnotfollowback & titania522/ct522

The Rim of the Sky - katnissdoesnotfollowback

When You Go Through the Valley - dracoisalooker76

District 12 - Silvercistern

I’ll Be Right Here - alexabee

Let Go - Shrodingers-Cat-Paradox

Forever Until - lieselmemingers

Broken Minds - populardarling

Whispers in the Wind - DandelionSunset

One Year - secretivemuch

The Meadow - supergirrl

The Deadliest Sins - pompeiigraffiti

And So We Stagger Towards the Sun - titania522

Deterioration of a Smile - FortuneFaded2012

Love You Forever - Alexabee

Where the Mockingjays Go - Marrya’sUniverse

Let Me Go - Jenns_Fiction

As We Stagger Towards The Sun by titania522

Haunt - ArabellaGwen

Choke - atetheredmind

Darkness I Became - teatrical

Meet Me Up at Midnight, in the Apple Tree - Alliswell

One Victor - hijacked-victor

Life Support - JLaLa

Wildest Dreams by youarebeingridiculous

[analogwatch]

Remembrance

I don't know why I do this to myself. I don't know why I'm doing this to all of you.

Have Gavin and Gwendolyn, after Garrick's Calling.

Excuse me while I go sob into another cup of coffee.

(400 words.)

"Papa, can you tell me about Da again?"

Gavin glanced down at the small girl next to him. Bright, wide green eyes met his own, and he ran his hand over her sleek black hair. Her youth only reminded him of how he grew older. Already in his late thirties, he knew his eyes were surrounded by a network of fine wrinkles; in the right light he could see fine silver hairs interspersed in his blond locks that he still braided every morning, just like he had for almost a decade now.

Many children had been orphaned over the course of Kirkwall's troubles; first by the Qunari invasion, then by the mage revolution. Gwendolyn was an orphan from the latter, and Gavin had adopted her with Garrick as one of his first acts as Viscount. Best to set a good example and encourage more families to take children into their homes, and it had worked to that end.

It had also worked to fulfill the desire he and Garrick had to start a family of their own. They always intended to adopt more children later, but once Gwen was old enough for them to have even considered it, Garrick started to show the first signs of his inevitable Calling. Gavin always knew it was coming; it was the biggest risk of being involved with a Grey Warden aside from the Taint itself. Before Gwen had come into their lives, he always figured he'd ensure he never outlived Garrick.

Now he had someone else to live for.

"What do you want to know, dearest?"

She leaned against him and tucked herself up under his arm. "Tell me again what he was like."

Gavin squeezed her in a half-hug and bent to kiss the top of her head. "Your Da was a great man. A hero. He taught me many things. He taught me patience, compassion, and he made me into a much better man."

"But Papa, you're always patient."

"I'm not, dearest, but I appreciate it." Gavin laughed and pivoted to hug her more fully, and then he pulled her onto his lap. "You're a lot like him, you know."

She turned to sit sideways and tipped her head back to look at him. "Like Da?"

He nodded as he pushed her hair back behind her ear. "Yes, like Da. You remind me of him. So much patience, and the way you quietly remind me of when I need to doing less talking and more listening."

She wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight hug, and he bit his lip hard as he drew a deep breath then hugged her in return.

Maybe one day talking about Garrick wouldn't hurt this much.

In a way, he hoped it always would. It would mean he wouldn't forget.

[ty-lockwood1-blog]

Tyler had finally told Jeremy how he felt, they had talked and Jeremy had kissed Tyler. They were meeting at The Grill, Tyler had packed his stuff ready to leave with the other man, they were hated by the town they had grew up in. They had no choice but to run, if they stayed they were going to die. Tyler had walked in to Sheriff Forbes pointing a gun at the man he loved. He had screamed at her to stop but it was too late, the shot rang out in the silent air and Jeremy was down. Tyler ran to him, holding him, yelling at the younger man to wake up. But he never would, he was dead. Tyler had stayed for the funeral, the only person who would talk to him was Elena, Caroline approached him but he vowed to kill her if she tried again. He had left that night, a broken shell of the man he had been. Next full moon he returned, a wolf roaming the streets. He killed many, including the woman that had shot his love, after the sun rose he stood and cried. He whispered Jeremy and jumped over the falls. Joining the man he loved.

[everlarkficquestions]

A fic where Peeta dies in the first games and Katniss is depressed? It is from Gales' s POV. SHe dies with Peeta' s name on her lips.

Peeta dies in the first game in all of these fics.  Perhaps it’s one of these?

Hope (Or Lack Thereof) - Bleedtoloveher

A Year With No Victor – Dustwriter

Twenty-Four Cannons – Falafel Waffel

Indulgence - varicose aka twinkwolf

[everlarkficquestions]

List of very very sad one shots please thank you. I love your blog

Thank you! And here are some:

Deterioration of a Smile - fortunefaded2012

The Hallow Bright - acciograce

Side by Side – lollercakesff

Hope (Or Lack Thereof) - Bleedtoloveher

The Rim of the Sky - katnissdoesnotfollowback

When You Go Through the Valley - dracoisalooker76

District 12 - silvercistern

I’ll Be Right Here - Alexabee

Love You Forever - Alexabee

Where the Mockingjays Go - Marrya'sUniverse

Let Go - Shrodingers-Cat-Paradox

Forever Until - lieselmemingers

Broken Minds - populardarling aka maytheoddsbeinkatewinslet

Whispers in the Wind - dandelion-sunset

No Sleep - annieoakley1

Let Me Go - Jenns_Fiction aka wickedlyclever

We Fell in Love Here - meggiemellark

Hotel Paper - kattomas

The Japanese Gardens - herainab

Out of the Woods - allhailthehutch

Lay Me Down, Let Me Dream - katnissdoesnotfollowback & titania522

Goodbye to the Boy with the Bread - lollercakesff

[everlarkficquestions]

•Hi!~ Do you know of any fics where Katniss and/or Peeta die, or successfully attempt suicide?•

One or both of them die in these stories:

Death Proof - Merit

Deterioration of a Smile - FortuneFaded2012

Side by Side – lollercakes

Hope (Or Lack Thereof) - Bleedtoloveher

A Year With No Victor – Dustwriter

Twenty-Four Cannons – Falafel Waffel

Indulgence - varicose

The Rim of the Sky - katnissdoesnotfollowback

When You Go Through the Valley - dracoisalooker76

District 12 - Silvercistern

I’ll Be Right Here - alexabee

Let Go - Shrodingers-Cat-Paradox

Forever Until - lieselmemingers

Broken Minds - populardarling

Whispers in the Wind - DandelionSunset

One Year - secretivemuch

The Meadow - supergirrl

Choke - atetheredmind

Love You Forever - Alexabee

The Japanese Gardens - herainab

Where She Cannot Follow - Bleedtoloveher

No Sleep - annieoakley1

Out of the Woods - allhailthehutch

Lay Me Down, Let Me Dream - katnissdoesnotfollowback & Titania522

And here’s one to answer your second question:

Let Me Go - Jenns_Fiction