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Grief - Blog Posts
After all this time, she still had not found an end to her grief. It was a dark well, an echoing place into which she’d once cast a stone, sure that it would strike bottom and she would stop hurting. Instead, it just kept falling.
King of scars, Leigh Berdugo
I was hit by a wave of grief for the first time in a while today, and the weather was very polite in reflecting my mood as it was grey and rainy on my daily walk. I told the wind and rain about everything I was feeling, and let myself feel the anger I had been afraid of. I think it's important to share your emotions so that they aren't stuck inside. If you're not ready to open up to other people, tell the wind and the rain. They'll always listen.
See my other drawings.
Small sketch
Artist: Tim Brierley
Posting this for my soul cat Kenzie (she passed a few years ago but I still think of her every single day) and for everyone else who has lost someone they love. ❤️
Echoes Of The Rain
Synopsis: Bakugou Katsuki grieves the loss of his best friend (rival? lover?) beneath rain-filled skies. He catches a glimpse of Midoriya Izuku's ghost, a shadow of what he once was. He is forced to confront the pain of holding on—and the inevitability of letting go.
Preview: "With every otherworldly meeting between the two, the details he had once held so dearly—Izuku’s laugh, the way his hair felt under his fingertips, the warmth of his touch—were slipping from his grasp. He could no longer count the freckles on the boy's face—a number he once knew by heart. The rain was washing it all away."
Words: 2.1k
Tags: bkdk, major character death, grief/mourning, healing, hurt/comfort, ghosts, regretful bakugou katsuki, unresolved emotional tension, bittersweet ending
Notes: my first work lol been thinking about getting this off my mind for soo long please free me of my shackles.. also cross-posted on ao3!!
Raindrops kiss the grass. Echoes linger in the storm. Dreams fade, soaked in gray.
Bakugou Katsuki was no stranger to solitude. He didn’t mind being alone—preferred it, most days. Yet, every so often, his feet found their way back to the river.
The rain hit hard, relentless. It soaked through his clothes, ran in cold rivulets down his spine. He barely noticed. He just stood there, fists clenched, jaw tight. It had been weeks. Weeks since Izuku had—since he was gone. And still, the stupid nerd wouldn’t leave him alone.
Katsuki had always hated the rain. It made him feel weak and pitiful—just as he feels now. He stared solemnly at the riverbank; the pitter-patter of the rain masking his cascading tears.
He missed the nerd. Every damn thing about him. From his incessant muttering to the foolish look in his eyes whenever he called him "Kacchan". His mind wandered back to their second fight in Ground Beta. Back then, Katsuki couldn't believe he was having a panic attack in front of him. In hindsight, the vulnerability had been a strange relief. It felt cathartic to pummel him into the ground, a twisted form of therapy. He'd never say this to Izuku's face, but he was thankful he stuck by him through every moment of prideful stupidity.
He would have taken a lifetime of coming second to Izuku over this. Katsuki kneels into the muddy earth, eyes glossing over. The rage inside does little to quiet the voices overtaking his conscience. Every wave of anger begrudgingly surges within, moving in rhythm with the water's ebb. How does one simply get over the loss of their soulmate? He knows he shouldn't be feeling like this, that Izuku didn't mean to leave him, that he died the noblest death a hero ever could.
He saw him in the back of his mind—a constant presence, a painful reminder of the beacon of light he is now devoid of. Katsuki slams his fists into the ground wrathfully, bitterly aware of how pathetic he looks. It felt pointless to keep pushing forward, to keep throwing himself into the fray without an equally persistent rival—his rival. Who would chase after him? Or rather, who would he chase after? He wishes, more than anything, for Izuku to show up. For a passing instance, Katsuki wonders if Izuku remembered the last time they were both here, together.
The cacophony surrounding him made his heart ache. How could the clouds continue to weep? How could the stream continue to ripple? How could his own heart continue to beat—when Izuku was gone? It pounded in his chest, forming an unsteady rhythm, making a mockery of the silence his twin flame had left behind.
Katsuki tilts his neck upward, hair drenched and clinging to his forehead. His usual fierce glare is absent, replaced by a vacant, almost lost expression. The rain poured unceasingly, cold and heavy, but it didn’t wash away the tension in his jaw or the way his shoulders slumped, as though the weight of the world was too much to carry. His crimson eyes, usually sharp and cutting, are dulled by grief, clouded with a deep, aching sadness.
He exhaled sharply and tipped his head back. His hair stuck to his forehead, his vision blurred with rain. He should go. He should stop standing here like an idiot and move. But his legs wouldn’t work.
And then—
A flicker.
His breath caught, sharp and sudden. His heart slammed against his ribs. It was just the mist, the rain playing tricks on him. That’s all it was.
An eerie stillness settles in. Izuku's outline glisters before him—indistinct, translucent. Like embers of a fire, barely hanging on. It's just a hallucination, he tells himself. And yet, his own hands betray him, mindlessly reaching out. His chest tightens, a flood of unspoken words caught in his throat. Despite all the time spent contemplating what he'd do if he got one last moment with Izuku, Katsuki subdues. All the overwhelming rage that filled him before diminishes, replaced by an unwelcome emptiness.
The air is thick, heavy enough to cut with a knife. Neither speaks; no words of comfort or regret passed between them. Izuku's expression is light and carefree, his lips curling into a soft smile that seemed at odds with the grief that weighed down Katsuki's heart. His expression softened, mouth opening and closing, an embarrassing lack of words coming out. Izuku stood there, hazy with a delicate aura outlining his figure—untouched by the rain.
To Katsuki, Izuku was everything. His beautifully radiant eyes seemed to glimmer, outshining any star in the sky—green as twin pools of emerald. Katsuki had to physically restrain himself from reaching out to smooth his dark tousled curls, as if he could make everything right by simply touching him.
Izuku’s silhouette stood out starkly against the dim, wet background. It served Katsuki as a reminder that he was no longer looking up into the face of his companion; but a fleeting memory that he no longer had the right to hold on to. He had always thought of Izuku as some kind of hero, but more than that, he saw him as something more—a myth, a God of serenity and grace, too untouchable, too beautiful, for him to grasp.
His hands fall back to his sides, trembling with quiet desperation. Damn it. Katsuki clenches his fists tighter, swallowing back a surge of frustration. What the hell is wrong with me? He didn't want to look so weak in front of Izuku—was this even him?—his breath hitching unevenly. But oh, of course he'd notice. Ever the kind soul, he lowers himself to Katsuki's level, his comforting presence glinting just in front of him. Katsuki can't help himself—his heart pounds as Izuku’s arms reach out, wiping away tears he didn’t even realise had fallen. The touch feels real—cold, yet strangely comforting against his skin. And for an ephemeral moment, it almost feels like everything would be okay again.
Katsuki’s breath shudders as he feels the phantom touch seep into his bones, like ice-cold water flooding an open wound. Izuku's fingers move towards him—hesitant, gentle—thumbs brushing over the other's cheeks. He handles him with the utmost care, as though he might shatter like glass at any moment. Izuku’s touch was paradoxical—both a lifeline and a cruel reminder of how far beyond his reach he truly was. His gaze remained unswerving, tracing the delicate lines of his face. Katsuki had never felt so vulnerable, so powerless.
His tears mingled with the tempest’s fury, as if the storm itself were mourning beside him. Katsuki’s breath hitched, a sharp tremor running through him, as if the weight of his grief took on a tangible form, like an anchor, dragging him into the ocean’s depths. He calls out to him, voice cracking, as though it might break entirely. The other's expression takes on something akin to sorrow, a look that Katsuki thought didn't belong on his face. Reluctantly, he welcomed the touch. He could feel every careful movement as if Izuku was trying to hold him together, piece by fragile piece. He wanted to pull away—he always did when someone tried to comfort him—but his touch just felt so right.
Izuku couldn’t help but run his fingers across Katsuki’s jaw. His muscles rippled as though they were carved from marble, moving with a swift grace that betrayed the vulnerability in his expression. He would never know it, but Izuku thought his beauty divine, unearthly—hidden behind a mask of anger and conceit. Like a force of nature, his presence commanded the skies above. There’s an undeniable pull between the two, as if the universe had woven their fates together, only for one to be ripped away too soon. It’s a thread stretched too thin, threatened by the magnitude of loss.
Katsuki closes his eyes for just a moment, letting Izuku's touch wash over all the doubts in his mind. His pulse steadies, his breath no longer shaky. His demeanour eases, as if something inside him is finally, slowly, beginning to break free. Yet, even in this fleeting moment of relief, he knows—Izuku couldn’t stay. He never had been able to.
Katsuki allows himself to bask in the other's consoling touches, confessions and apologies spilling from his lips without thought. He doesn't know how long he's standing here, being comforted by the boy he was missing mourning. The steady patter of rain gives way to silence, and as the last drop falls, the stillness between them feels like a new beginning—a pause in the storm that has raged inside Katsuki since he lost him. As the sky clears, and the days pass, he finds himself looking for Izuku's shadow wherever he goes, longing for his solace whenever it pours.
Izuku’s ghost hasn’t been around for days now, and a nagging thought lingers at the back of his mind. He swallows hard, trying to push it down, but it won’t go away.
Has he forgotten something?
It’s a thought he can’t shake, and his gaze darts around, as if half-expecting Izuku to be standing just behind him, waiting for him to admit it out loud. He grits his teeth, biting back the urge to call out, to hope for a hint of the familiar warmth that used to be there. He won’t give in to this. But his eyes linger on the space in front of him, almost begging Izuku to confirm that he’s not truly gone. The hesitation is brief, but it cuts through him like a blade—just a flicker of weakness that he immediately tries to ignore. Moving forward feels like betrayal, like leaving Izuku behind for good, but is it really betrayal if it’s all he can do?
Fuck. His throat tightened. He clenches his fists, furious with himself for even thinking it. For needing confirmation.
But there’s no answer, no ghost to speak back to him. Just the rain. Just the silence.
As much as he wanted to hold on, he couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that Izuku's ghost was fading away. With every otherworldly meeting between the two, the details he had once held so dearly—Izuku’s laugh, the way his hair felt under his fingertips, the warmth of his touch—were slipping from his grasp. He could no longer count the freckles on the boy's face—a number he once knew by heart. The rain was washing it all away.
Katsuki had tried to trace the scars on Izuku’s arms, but his ghostly figure had started to dissolve as the seasons passed. The lines he had once followed like a map blurred into obscurity. The once-vivid greens of his eyes, bright and unyielding, were now dim smudges in Katsuki’s mind. Each encounter left him with less, and each time, Izuku seemed more like an echo than the boy he had fought alongside—the boy he had loved. Katsuki fought to keep every memory intact, clutching at fragments with the desperation of a drowning man. But grief was a relentless tide, pulling pieces of Izuku further into its depths. He feared the day when he would wake up and find nothing left to remember.
Katsuki stares out into the downpour, expecting the familiar flicker of green eyes to appear, but all he sees is the blur of the storm. He frowns, his heart stuttering for a moment before it settles into something else—something quieter.
The space beside him remains empty, and for the first time in so long, it doesn’t feel like a void. The ache is still there, but it’s different. It’s less like a wound and more like a scar that’s begun to heal, its edges softened by time. He realises, slightly unsure, that he hasn’t seen Izuku’s ghost in weeks, maybe longer. And it’s okay. The thought doesn’t fill him with guilt; it doesn’t feel like betrayal. It’s just... the way things are now. He’s allowed to move forward, even if the past will always linger in the background.
Grief wasn’t something to be defeated; it was a river, something that would ebb and flow, forever changing, but never truly halt. He stopped searching the storm for a figure that would never return, realising that the sun would rise again, even if it took time to burn through the clouds. In the space between the rain, he found a new kind of peace—one that was less about forgetting, and more about learning how to stand in the quiet aftermath.
The rain had stopped, and with it went the faint illusion that Izuku was still near.
Since this is the platform where I’ve shared most of my stuff this year I really hope you guys like it. Posting has been sparse because this took up a lot of my time. But I think the effort was worth it to be able to share this personal animated end project. Be warned for feelings though.
*A last goodbye*
If Chara was by Frisk’s side but Asriel couldn’t make it out of the underground. (I know that there are enough AU’s out there with this or an similar prompt but I can’t help wanting to make one too, maybe in the future *shrugs*) Anyway I know the anatomy is off but I’ll hope that doesn’t bother you peeps too much.
Ungraceful am I For grieving so publicly Bereaved, forgive me
I have seen very few movies that are able to display grief so despairingly accurate, and as beautifully as Aftersun. And the most incredible part, is that all of the emotions and experiences the movie centers around remain unspoken, yet are blindingly prominent. After doing a google search or two, I discovered that Aftersun was based on the director, Charlotte Wells’ life, and that allowed me to see this movie in a different light; especially considering her father passed when she was sixteen, and I lost my father at fifteen.
While the movie never makes it explicitly clear what happens to Calum at the end, we can assume the vacation with Sofie was the last time she saw her father. Especially considering the ending, with the song “Under Pressure” playing in background while Sofie and Calum dance. I would also like to point out that towards the end of the dance, David Bowie’s part comes to an end with the lyrics, “this is our last dance” repeating while the scene fades out. While we don’t see anything explicitly sinister on screen, there are persistent undertones of dread and melancholy, as well as innocence and nostalgia.
This movie is nothing short of heartbreaking, yet it is also remarkably beautiful. The cinematography captures the world through the eyes of a child perfectly, and every single shot is so thought out and human. Because of how intimate the cinematography is, it feels like the audience is in Sofie’s memories as well. I love how this movie walks you through the dynamic of Sofie and Calum’s relationship not only emotionally, but visually as well. Despite Calum’s mistakes, his love for his daughter never needed to be questioned. Though, we can infer that Calum feels guilty for Sofie’s emotional turmoil. In the scene where Sofie is laying on the bed describing what sounds like symptoms of depression, she asks Calum if he feels the same way, the camera returns to the bathroom where we then see Calum spit in the mirror. That scene reminded me of my own father, and the subtle nod to Calum’s guilt was absolutely incredible. Not to mention both actors, Paul Mescal and Frankie Corio were nothing short of incredible. Their performance felt so incredibly real.
Aftersun felt like a dream in the best and worst ways possible. An unspoken longing for the past, and the persistent grief and depression that follows. This movie genuinely holds such a special place in my heart. Absolutely magnificent.
take me out back and give me the old yeller special atp i’m fed up dawg
an ode to the rockies
cold damp tree bark
contrasting fixed moss
broken down cabins
and cold lone walks
wet rotted wood
and black fire smoke
slanted tree lines
mountains of snow
i cry to the wind blowing
i cry at the absence of rain
little bear cub unknowing
the reality of the vain
silent dew drops tell
the ancient tales of fallen rain
snow topped trees
whisper secrets
through the crystalized brain
the serenity of the scenery
claws at me with unrelenting fists
“will it ever be more beautiful than this?”
“And he left you sick when you loved him the most.”
Kyle Craft, “Lady of the Ark”
you can’t outrun grief no matter how hard you try you can’t outrun grief no matter how hard you try you can’t outrun grief no matter how hard you try you can’t outrun grief no matter how hard you try you can’t outrun grief no matter how hard you try you can’t outrun grief no matter how hard you try
Think I made this in 2022? This little game is so important to me 😭💖
Game is flowers for my moon on Roblox
Music from Yumme Nikki
Irish Spring
a raspy laugh, sharp as cheap soap a mind's movie on a honey-smacked whorl
“As long is there is love, there will be grief”- Heidi Priebe