#tw.grief

[woahjo]

tw: HEAVY angst with NOTHING TO CONSOLE, major character death, grief, partner loss

they say the world doesn't end when you lose someone. that's what everyone told you at least, what you'd heard countless times in the media. "they are gone, but we must move forward. it's what they would want." but for you, the world did end. when you lost katsuki, the world shut its doors on you forever. that's what it felt like— feels like.

it's too much to wrap your head around. he was here one moment, in your living room, and the next, he's nowhere. gone somewhere that you cannot follow.

when katsuki died, you felt it before you even got the call. hours before, you'd woken up in the middle of the night. the bed next to you was still empty and though it wasn't unusual for katsuki to be out all night on a mission, you just knew. this sense of dread and longing washed over you, a feeling you couldn't swallow even if you tried, and you'd set your head back down on the pillow as nausea caused your mouth to fill with saliva you could not swallow. the phone call came a few hours later, just before the sun rose and you knew before you'd even picked it up.

"hello?"

"_____..." izuku's voice, stuffy and exhausted.

"is he dead?"

izuku choked on the other end and then, "yes."

"where is he?"

"the agency morgue," izuku said. "by the time we found him-"

"okay."

"i'm so sorry."

the phone call was short and you recall this strangely detached feeling as he told you. it was almost as if you'd completely disconnected from yourself, lingering in the back of your head rather than at the front where you usually reside. that feeling has stuck. even now, you get the sense you're only spectating, living somewhere in the back of your mind where katsuki still exists.

izuku met you at the door of the agency, completely covered in blood that didn't belong to him. his eyes were completely blank and then, his eyebrows pulled up in a twisted expression. it had been so distorted that you hardly even recognized him, but you clamored towards him nonetheless. by the time you reached him, your legs had given out and you collapsed in a fit of aching sobs as he half-carried you into the building where you could escape the cameras. there's been no reprieve from the ache since.

your friends try to help, most of all the ones closest to katsuki. the ones who have an idea of the loss that you cannot overcome. it's for nothing though. all of the flowers, the condolences, the memorials and gifts and nights in and meals brought to your door. the cards, the money, the time well-spent, and the hours of trying to keep you from falling apart completely. none of the quiet mentions of him, the well-meaning check-ins, the little things he used to own that are passed onto you— none of it eases the tremendous feeling of an endless ache.

no, the world doesn't end when someone dies, but yours did. you think you probably figured out when you found the ring he'd bought for you, tucked away in the back of his sock drawer. there'd be no wedding, no bells, no children, no future. all of it had been cut short and like the remaining end of a cut string, you feel like you're just being pulled along. no, not pulled along, falling. it's an endless fall.

[dea-ries]

wednesday, 20.12.2023

today mama told me she talked to angie about what has happened over the weekend. usually in december, our family would meet up and go to the christmas market together. this year we didn’t. normally the others would be way too late and we would laugh about it. this year we didn’t laugh. on the 2nd christmas holiday, our family would meet up and get together. last year we went to a totally new restaurant, that was weird. this year, we won’t go together at all. angie told us they planned christmas without me and mama. family is now everybody minus the two of us. this hurts. but i guess, me and mama are the villains of their story again, so we are used to this by now. i just hope they stay wherever they are and don’t come back.

and to think this all happens only 4 years after you passed. so this is what it feels like to loose your family, again.

[kingdaddydaichi]

∞ cw/an: angst, grief, I’m really going through it with katsuki rn

Ripping a picture of Katsuki when you’re going through the anger stage of grief; scalding tears trailing down your face; yelling at him for being so selfish and rushing in on his own when reinforcements hadn’t arrived yet.

Sliding down the wall into a heap of grief; crumbling without his strong support; the loss of him weighing so heavily on you. You’re sobbing. It hurts really, really bad.

You open your tired, puffy eyes to see the majority of his torn face on the floor next to your feet. He’s looking back at you with that look on his face. You know the one. The one he’d always given you when you pissed him off for being too hard on yourself.

The same tears flow, but your eyes soften as you begin to notice something. Your fingernails scrape against the floor a couple of times before they find purchase on the photo paper.

Your anger dissolves into unadulterated sorrow as you pick it up and hold it up to your face. His eyes were in the shape of annoyance and the dip between his eyebrows made his nose crinkle in disapproval.

But deep within the pools of his scarlet irises there was unconditional love. It had always been there, but you’re seeing it for the first time in this photo and you shiver. He’s speaking to you through eyes of the past and you can hear him in the enormous distance. Tracing your thumb over his face, you look at him and say,

“I love you, too, Katsuki.”

[silversweetpea]

 I’m thinking about meeting Peter Parker at a grief support group.

I’m thinking about the way that you stumble over present and past tense because you can’t keep it straight in your head how someone was there and now they aren’t and Peter nods and is one of the few in the group that doesn’t correct you. They mean well when they do, but it always hurts. It always feels like they’re reminding you that the past is gone forever and you can’t get it back and Peter, the boy who never speaks in group sessions, seems to understand beyond that. That they’re gone but they never can be when you carry them with you, when you see them in every reflective surface and every stranger on the street. 

I’m thinking about the way that he never speaks because he’s there more because he knows he should be than because he’s ready to open up, to subject anyone to the danger that his life brings, and you never push at him. You never try to get him to be open even if you think its for his own good because you understand what it’s like to be certain that you can keep everything just the way it was if you don’t talk about it. If you don’t acknowledge the empty space on the couch then you can still fill it with the memory of them. He can keep everything just where it had always been and even if he knows its not the same he can pretend it is. 

I’m thinking about the way that you two grow closer, bound together by the moments after group where you talk. the streets feel alive for the first time in far too long as you fill it with photography and science and books and movies and music and school on the nights where one half of your pair is unable to think of the past or just can’t bring themselves to. The streets are quieted with shared snippets of life, of inside jokes and holiday traditions and the most awkward places you had ever seen them fall asleep on the nights where you can’t think of anything but the past.

I’m thinking about the way that Peter’s name doesn’t sound right in his mouth when he says it and you don’t give him a confused look or jump to superhero conclusions because you remember the way that you couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror. 

I’m thinking about the way that he hears you talk about feeling unfamliar in your own skin and he understands because hes still not sure if he’s spiderman or if spiderman is him. He’s still not sure which one hurts more considering how many people Peter Parker has lost. 

I’m thinking about the way that leaning against him, or allowing him to lean against you doesn’t feel like betraying that voice in your head that demands you curl up within your own embrace and your own embrace alone. Seeking that gentle comfort from the other feels too much like leaning on yourself, a second piece of your soul that wandered the world and yet still experienced the same pain anyways.

I’m thinking about finding comfort in someone who understands the desperation to be alone and the fear of the quiet that it brings without having to explain it to them. Or maybe I’m just thinking of healing together and growing and learning through the want to move forward with each other to find that middle ground between carried torches and memorials and becoming a ghost yourself in their honor.

[honeymaki]

Achievement: ✿ I have - started grieving, it’s painful, it’s so so painful but bit by bit I’m starting to grieve and mourn ✿ I’m going to be kinder to younger me, she didn’t know what to do or how to cope so kitty? I got you, it’s okay, you didn’t know🥺💕💕

[woahjo]

i love stories where grief makes someone unrecognizable and a version of themselves they never wanted to become.

[dea-ries]

04.12.2023

today, it’s bad again. in days like today where i feel like everything goes down, i miss your calmness and steadiness the most. you were mine and mama’s rock in the shore and i wish you were here for us. mama and i miss you a lot and we talk about you nearly every day, but i think you know that already.

i would really like to know your opinion on my latest life choices, what you think of me, my friends, my studies. i would really like to hear what you think. you always had the wisest words for me and mama, you always had an open ear. i wish i could sit at the living room table with you again, drinking coffee and tea together, and just chatting the hours away.

on days like today, i miss you more than on other days. i wish you were here for me again. i wish i could be there for you again.

[kingdaddydaichi]

I’ve always imagined that Katsuki will grow to be a stoic man. I’ve always imagined that he will face a reckoning when he becomes a pro - when he loses for the first time. Like, really loses. When he’s fighting like a sonofabitch to save a kid from a building before it collapses. And he goes home after the fact, and it’s quiet. He’s alone.

There are no reporters or helicopters flying overhead. No one is screaming. There are no villains to blast into next week, no more paperwork to fill out, none of his annoying ass friends around to clap his shoulder with sad smiles on their faces and contrived one-liners about being strong and better luck next time.

There is only him. Alone. But not so quiet anymore.

He’s so hard on himself y’all. He starts in on the what if game, hearing his mother’s voice telling him, once again, how weak he is. Those old tapes playing on repeat “like it’s constantly on loop” inside of his head. He should’ve gotten there faster. He should’ve defeated the enemy sooner. He should’ve been able to hold that entire fucking building up all by himself.

That’s the monumental pressure he puts on himself, the impossibly high standard he holds himself to. Katsuki Bakugou, Perfectionist. He should have that shit trademarked and printed on business cards.

But as a hero, losing is something he has to learn to accept. And he does, in time.

He’s not omnipotent. Willful, yes. Dogged, yes. Obstinate and stubborn, gods help you, YES. But he’s not invincible.

He’s not going to win every single time. Everybody knows: you win some, you lose some.

Sooner rather than later, because he’s a quick learner, he makes peace with himself.

He heals and understands that his worth as a hero, his worth as a man is not contingent upon his ability or lack thereof to win every single battle. Rather, it’s in his resilience and his drive to keep fighting even if he fucking loses. To get right back up and take it like a man instead of beating himself up and engaging in the negative self-talk or letting his pride and ego determine his worth. To silence the old tapes and say, “You’re wrong, Ma.” Not with anger, but with matter-of-fact certitude and conviction because he’s right about this.

Katsuki - he wins the war.

He becomes a better man. Exercising patience and deep-breathing techniques is part of his strength training regimen now. He builds strength of character just as hard as he hits the weights.

This is the Katsuki I’m married to.

I can not accept the possibility that he’ll never be this man in canon. I staunchly refuse. He has the heart of a lion and the passion of a war god. Fuck canon. In my heart, he is indestructible. I love him endlessly and will never let him die. I’ll write him harder. I’ll go to war with my king and I’ll write him how he should be written because that’s what he fucking deserves.

Long live the king.