#character death

Some Silent Hill x BNHA Crossover anyone? :D

Supernatural S02E01
↳RFW’s Favorite SPN Whump Moments

Galaxy Quest (1999) (✚)

Galaxy Quest (1999) (✚)

The Avengers (2012)

Das Feld der Ehre - Die Schlacht von Paschendaele Part 1 Part 2

a few weeks ago someone said something about ingo dying and coming back as a new kinda ghost pokemon, and then mentioned ghost/steel (as in trains) as one possibility and my mind latched onto the train part and Did Not Let Go

so!

new au i guess.

ingo somehow gets revived as a ghost train Pokemon. (divine intervention? autism swag? who knows) spends the next however long it is from the past haunting various railroads around the world (he’s having The Time Of His. un-Life(??)) waiting for time to catch up to when he disappeared from his original time, until eventually a couple years after he originally disappeared, emmet starts hearing rumors of a strange new pokemon stalking the subway tunnels

bonus. way back when immediately after ingo. uh. kicked the bucket. he ended up hiding in wayward cave for a while for several reasons

melli ended up coming across him and befriended him. (he’s much better with Pokemon than people. pokemon don’t judge you, and all that)

then ingo figured out how to write

wewhump:

- - Continuation to WAWangstpril no.30 - -

The woman considered herself swift. Fast. But even as she scrambled to Suzuki’s side, nothing felt fast enough. Before she knew it, her eyes were filled with glistening, threatening red- She pressed her hands to Suzuki’s side, desperately trying to hold the blood in place. To hold it in. Her tail swept gently before the adventurer’s empty eyes, to hide her view of the gore.

Help. Help. She needed help, but didn’t know where to get it, she didn’t have one of those- things, the talking things. Frantic, her tail whipped around, curling about the device. A radio. Pressing the button, Tyria could only really shout into it and pray. She couldn’t- find words. They mentioned a beacon. A signal. 

They pressed harder, feeling liquid life drain past their fingers no matter what they did. Suzuki was pale, as if she’d seen a ghost. Gasping lightly for breath. Shuddering. Tyria felt the bleeding begin to slow, and in that dumbstruck moment thought it may be a miracle.

Until they saw the signs. Until they raised their hands from the thinning rivulets of red, and turned to the girl’s neck- Finding the thrum, the beat of life gone.

…

They didn’t know why they thought it was a triumph, even for a moment. Her heart had wringed out the last bit of life, and Tyria was ignorant to it, to the crimson pooling under their knees, to her stonelike fingertips.

They froze. Their hand was pressed to the girl’s neck, but they found it as pale, as cold, as stillas they had seconds before.

It looked as if the world had fallen on their shoulders, crushing them slowly. They hunched over Suzuki’s body, watching her face, watching for any final flicker of the friend they knew.

She’d drained out on the ground, there was nothing left to salvage, nothing left to do, nothing that could be done. But.
Driven by a force they could not name, Tyria drew the body into their arms, offering one last hug. Pale. Freezing. It was as if their friend had taken a sprint through a beautiful frosty winter before coming to greet them, face stung pink by the icy air.

But she was ashen. She was dead.
“Hey. Heyheyhey- Suzu.”

No cheerful answer, no smile.
“Suzu, Suzu, hey-”

Tyria shook the girl’s shoulders, watching, desperate, as her head lolled back, bun beginning to come undone. Messier than she’d like it. Tyria screamed. A sound of mourning, a torn, ugly sound that seemed both too shrill and too soft, a rift between a shriek and a sob, a wail. The sound was strangled, hurt.

Sobbing, Tyria held the girl close, expecting no miracles, no joy, no hugs, no pride. Just- clutching onto a shell that shook with her trembling breaths.

She was too late.

wewhump:

It didn’t hurt at first, she found. The pain crept furtively into the gash like a burglar come to steal the peace in a quiet death- stinging before reverting to a strange numbness. Suzuki’s face twisted as she tried to catch sight of the wound. It was warm.

Still, that warmth varied from second to second- waxed and waned in hot flashes, pulses. Suzu didn’t know what to make of the sensation, not until she spotted that bright red, and knew her heart was hammering to its grave- that it’d betrayed her, by wrenching out every ounce of life, drop after drop.

She was going to die, here. She couldn’t pretend she was okay, or that help would come- She could only try to press on the wound, searing, stinging as it was, but she found her arm wouldn’t move, couldn’t move, she could hardly drape fingers over the gash.

The girl wanted to scream, but found her breath more important, found it more urgent that she couldn’t manage more than a silent, desperate wheeze. She watched the bushes for any flicker, any final blow, but she found none, her anxieties only growing. She couldn’t talk, nervousness had settled in her heart, tied her tongue, made a traitor of her heart, and the serpent was- Out of sight.

Her eyes grew blank, confused- and begun to grow dull, when she saw it again.
Scales, sweeping before her glassy eyes. Pressure on a wound that would not heal. Desperate attempts, that the woman failed to sense, to see, to feel.

She was cold.
That was all.
She was freezing in summer.
The culprit was right over her.
Working as hard to save as they did to kill.
It was funny.

Suzu slipped into the dark with a sigh, a breathy laugh.
It was almost funny, in those last, flickering moments.
If they were her last.

1.- I mentioned in part 1 about the connection to a character. How we don’t always mourn over character’s but instead we mourn alongside other characters, purely out of empathy. Well, taking that a step further, mourn a villain or an unlikable character. 

For example, you have a daughter who’s dad is perhaps an alcoholic and slightly abusive, he’s a bad person and instead of help him she prioritises her own well being. As an audience we agree with her. But when her father dies she will not only mourn him, but in part blame herself, and also in part hate herself for feeling bad for a person who treated her so badly. This is an example I think we’ve all probably seen in media before, but you can have character’s dislike each other for a million less serious reasons and this still works. 

2.- Don’t let the others know. When we as readers see a character die, but the main group isn’t there to witness it, they are searching and searching, believing the dead character to be alive, and as a reader you are waiting for them to find a body or some kind of evidence of their passing. 

You are both dreading the moment but also want it to be over with. 

3.- If the character has a pet that the other character’s have to take care of. An animal that doesn’t understand the concept of death and still waits at the door for their owner to come home. Say no more. 

4.- Denial. When a character refuses to believe their friend or family is dead. No matter how much they are told, no matter how the evidence points in that direction, until one day, one fateful chapter, undeniable proof is presented and all that grief they put on hold finally comes crashing in. 

Sorry for the super short post. I have a question to answer sometime soon but this has been sitting in my drafts waiting for me to think of a couple more things and I thought it was a good time to finally publish it. 

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