#row is having a mental illness moment. i'm talking about that <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[spellsparkler]

the most fun thing to do when writing bg3 things is making everything terrible that happens to everyone about my terrible guys instead. these assholes are trying to hog all the trauma

[edelgarfield]

alright bestie i finished chapter eight and i just needed to thank you for destroying me and then subsequently putting me back together multiple times in a row. the comfort at the end though made all the days months years of the past installments worth it!!!!

to get personal with you for a moment— your characterization of durge in this series has been both so painful and so comforting for me. i recently started a partial-inpatient program for depression recovery, which i attend 30 hours a week. soon after starting, and with some help, it became blatantly clear how much self-loathing and contempt i hold for myself. at times, it feels like looking at durge is like looking in a mirror. the lack of self-worth, constant feelings of inadequacy, drive for perfectionism, and the absence of purpose. though the reflection is painful, i am now receiving the support i need to recognize where change needs to be made so i can heal after all these years. thank you thank you thank you, endlessly. you touched a part of me that i have always invalidated and has never felt seen<3

oh anon thank you so much! And I'm very glad the catharsis was worth it, it was definitely a long journey to get to this point & there's still a long journey to go.

And thank you so much for sharing your struggles, it really warms my heart to hear other people can see Durge the way I do, and understand how they reflect actual real world struggles that people go through.

Durge as a character means a lot to me for very similar reasons. I was (finally) diagnosed with BPD at the very beginning of 2023, & I've written about it through fanfic a number of times, but i struggle a lot with being unable to control/regulate my emotions and having unhealthy or irrational thoughts. I don't have violent intrusive thoughts like Durge, though some people do, but I struggle a lot with feelings of jealousy & possessiveness towards the people I'm closest to.

(under the cut bc this got so far away from me)

I'm self-aware enough to know when those thoughts are unhealthy & that it would be wrong to act on them. But for the longest time I was so ashamed of those feelings that I couldn't even bring them up in therapy. I would talk about the depression & anxiety those thoughts caused me, but I couldn't bring myself to say "I have an unhealthy obsession with my best friend" or "I don't want my friends to hang out with anyone else but me." and it's not a thought that I can just brush off, there's a very strong desire to act on those fears, to the point where it's extremely painful not to, but at the same time I know acting on them is wrong.

i think when it comes to mental health, it's gotten much easier to talk about being depressed or anxious, and those are things even people who aren't mentally ill can conceptualize. like everyone gets sad and stressed out from time to time. but i think it's a lot harder and there isn't nearly as much openness about the more "unsavory" symptoms like intrusive thoughts or violent impulses. i think those are things that are much harder to relate to, even among mentally ill people themselves. and the constant shame & guilt of dealing with those things is absolutely gut-wrenching.

even when I did finally start talking about these things in therapy, there was still this shame that followed me through every interaction. I'm in a place where I'm able to handle myself and my emotions, but they're still THERE. i'm certainly better at managing them than i was when i was younger, but my emotions & impulses are still largely outside of my control. with work they can get better over time, but that doesn't help me much NOW. i would constantly think "if my friends knew about my obsessions/jealousy/etc they would hate me." it's a huge burden to feel like there's a part of yourself that's inherently unlovable, and feeling the need to keep it under lock and key is so incredibly stressful.

with my therapist's help, I talked about this stuff with my friends for the first time a while back, and i feel so much lighter now not having to carry that guilt on my shoulders all the time. it's truly a lifechanging experience to be able to show someone the parts of yourself you're most ashamed of and have them love you anyway. my friends & i will actually joke about my obsessions w/ people, or wild things i've done to get people to like me and it's just... nice to be able to talk abt these things and have them be treated like something normal. dealing w/ these feelings & impulses has been such a huge part of my life for as long as i can remember and for the majority of my life i thought it was a burden i had to bear alone. but even just telling my friends about it has made it so much easier to deal w/ bc i'm not constantly carrying around the shame & guilt i did before. & my friends have taken steps to make things a bit easier on me, which i never thought anyone would be willing to do. i hope that everyone can get that experience of being loved unconditionally bc i've healed more in the past couple years than i did in the two and a half decades that came before.

anyway. that was a lot. but my point is that even though Durge is a video game character & their affliction is a magical one & not a mental illness (though i'm sure living with the urge would almost certainly lead to one if it wasn't already there) a lot of the struggle they go through is very real to me. like i said, I don't have violent thoughts/impulses, but i know what it's like to feel completely out of control & to think/want something intensely that disgusts you. that lack of control & shame has made it so difficult to let people in over the course of my life.

much the way they latch onto their identity as the party's leader, i've latched onto various titles & accomplishments because I felt like I didn't have anything else to hold onto. to this day, i joke about getting a degree everyone told me would be extremely hard, not because i was passionate about it, but because I was so attached to my identity as "the smart person" that I felt like a failure if I went for something "easier." and when the only thing I know myself as is "smart" i can't let other people see me be emotionally vulnerable, bc that'll shatter the persona i've crafted, and who am i going to be if i'm not that? it's the same for durge as a leader, letting their friends in isn't JUST about being seen as weak, it's about losing what little sense of identity they have, it's abt losing control of the way other people see them, one of the very few things that IS under their control, it's abt letting people get close enough to see the parts of themselves they've worked so hard to hide.

a sentiment that often gets floated abt people with BPD in particular is the idea that our negative emotions are extremely powerful, but so are our positive ones, & we love very intensely. That's how I see my version of Durge, the Urge is extremely strong & powerful, but so is their capacity for love & their drive to protect the people they care abt. when I was reading fic abt Durge prior to writing the series, there's a lot of depiction of the Urge as something that exists wholly separate from Durge themselves, & that's something that gets floated in the game itself, too. and i think that's a valid interpretation, but for me, my unhealthy & impulsive thoughts ARE part of me. hopefully with time & effort they're a part of me that can be unlearned, but it's still me. and that's something I really wanted to dig into & convey when writing Durge.

I think there are parts of Durge that are universally understandable like feeling guilt & struggling to become a better person, and those get explored a lot in fandom. but like i said abt mental illness before, I think there are parts of Durge that are extremely unpleasant that people struggle to depict in their characters without conceptualizing it as a different person, or a part of Durge that's been abandoned post-tadpole, or they only get discussed when it comes to characters that embrace the Urge. but for me, it's those unpleasant parts that I find most horrific & most relatable. Like it isn't just the horror of having intrusive thoughts, or the horror of losing control of your own body, it's having those horrific thoughts about things you know are wrong and disgusting but still desiring them anyway, and the shame that comes with that.

like obviously the Urge itself is a magical influence, but in many ways it's still a part of them, and their sense of self and identity is tangled up in it. Durge would not be the same character if you removed the Urge, their sense of morality & desires & what's important to them would not develop the same way, and it's something they actively have to manage & be aware of, much like I have to constantly assess myself for whether the Disorder is taking over. the Durge that existed pre-tadpole has a lot of things in common w/ Durge post-tadpole, whether you view them as different people or not.

i've very obviously never been in Durge's position, but a lot of their feelings & thoughts are heavily inspired by my own experiences dealing with destructive impulses & a lack of identity. in a lot of ways they remind me of myself at my worst (though again, i've never killed anyone, asleep or otherwise). the support they eventually receive in game (particularly after the "kill your lover" scene) and that I wrote them receiving in the most recent update were things I desperately needed/wanted when I was struggling, and something I think everyone deserves. the fact that fans can look at Durge & feel compassion for them despite how unpleasant the Urge is, and how awful their past actions are makes me feel like people might actually be able to feel sympathy for me and gives me a way to explain what it's like to feel completely out of control in your own body.

much like Durge, the thing that finally drove me to start working on myself in earnest a couple years ago was the love I had for my friends, and realizing that the way i was loving them at the time was extremely unhealthy for both of us. i'm very lucky to have met my current friends & to have made it this far despite having struggled for so long. my hope is that other people can see themselves in the version of Durge I've written, or even if they can't, that they can understand more and be more compassionate towards people who need it. it makes me so so happy to hear my work has helped you. i wish you nothing but the best and i hope you continue to heal & get the support you need.

[the-most-adorkable-smile]

1, 3 and 12 for the fun asks please :) Get well soon.

Thank you for the ask ^-^ And I shall try :')

what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

Oooh, tricky question. A lot has helped shape me into who I am, and not all of it has been positive. I think the three biggest influences on my life have got to be:

Bullying: I was bullied a lot in my youth, and it's affected how I see myself and how I hold myself. A lot of my anxiety and self-reliance comes from being bullied, gaslit, and generally traumatised as a kid - there were no real authority figures I could trust, and I got in trouble when I retaliated against my bullies, so I ended up going through life feeling like I couldn't trust or rely on a lot of people. Which brings me to:

Therapy: Let's go for a happier one. I used to have terrible panic attacks at the thought of failing people, or from being in crowds or from trying to make phone calls. It's taken a whole-ass decade and a bunch of different therapies, counselling services, and dudes whose stock response to mental illness is "have you tried weed?" (No and I'm not going to. It's not for me.) but I'm at the point now where I can hold conversations, stand up for myself, and say "no" to the occasional ridiculous request. A lot of that is down to talking things out and finding things out through one-to-one counselling.

My wife: I met @helenmarie95 on this hellsite, and we've been together for a while now. She's been super strong when I've had low moments (like quitting my job bc it was the worst thing for me and then taking a few months to find another) to points where I started questioning my gender and began identifying as non-binary. She's taught me a lot about mental illness, specifically autism and ADHD, and she's been accommodating when I've said stupid shit. And she has shown me some awesome movies and music ^-^

Alright that was a super long answer let's try for a short one next!

3. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

Alright real quick:

Kung Fu Panda 2 (it's the best one! And there's always something new to spot!)

Booksmart (It's fun! It's funny! And I know my wife loves it :3 )

Oblivion (Yes it's kinda generic, but it's an interesting sci-fi premise with a heavyweight cast and some drop-dead gorgeous cinematography, so I feel confident I'd never get bored of it)

12. what’s some good advice you want to share?

So we've kinda covered it already, but: learn how to say no. Also join your union at work. Also if you've got a bad cold, eating four Kinder Bueno bars in a row isn't a good idea.

It'll feel like it's a good idea, but it's not!

That's all I got. Thank you for the questions!

[talictries]

friendship vent (agane LMAO)

i didnt say this before because i was too embarrassed LMAO but a little over 2 weeks ago i ruined my best friend of 5 year's 21st birthday by getting way too drunk, breaking up the whole event, and having a ambulance called on me LMAO. i am ok (obvi) but I've always been the one who's leeched off her for emotional support shit (because i have no friends except her lol) and we've had these similar arguments in the past but because it was supposed to be her big day, and it was in front of all her friends from uni and shit, and her family (which had to deal with me and house me for that night) none have ever been this bad.

because my mental health is so shit, she often worries if I've like kms-ed even tho i wouldn't do that. but i gave her space for 2 weeks and finally messaged her today being like yo hope you're well all that shit. she messaged back (a good sign) and we talked for a tiny but but she was like I'm still mad at u abt the party thing but I'm also worried about your mental health.'

and like, sure, i could have just said 'dw I'm all good' and moved on, but in the past 3 years where I've lost all my other friends and family (no one died dw, just stopped talking to friends and family moved far away) I've always kinda leaned on her the most. and over the past few months when my mental health was at its lowest, i could tell she was starting to get anxious just by my mere existence (thinking i was dead or smth) and its been weighing on my mind that she doesn't really need that shit in her life, because her life comparatively is a fuck ton more stressful atm.

so basically i info dumped (not a slay) and was like look i was giving u space, but I've been thinking about our friendship which i am the one who always messes up, and ik we've had a few conversations abt it before but i just wanted to state my piece. already from my side this has been a slightly unhealthy relationship because i know i am far too dependant on you, and i don't want this turning into a more unhealthy friendship because before that was a v internal me thing whereas now its actually impacting your life. so i love our friendships and its happy moments but i want you to really evaluate your life and make the final decision as to if you want me in it or not. maybe not for a few weeks, or moths, or ever, but i feel guilty that YOU feel guilty about it.

and ik it isn't my place to dictate her feelings or whatever but now i fear if i just kept my mouth shut we'd be on the path to getting back to normal. but at the same time, if i didn't say this then i feel like I'm mental-health-trapping her because she thinks if she leaves me ill kms??? like baby trapping but not really. anyway idk. she said 'this is a lot, i need time' which is totally fair and i will give it to her, but honestly now i feel I've been TOO real and she'll be like 'yeah i actually don't need talic in my life' and that may send me spiralling because i have zero support systems (apart from ao3 LMAO) without her.

oh well. if it works out it will, if it doesn't then its better for both of us in the long-run ig. just sad I've ruined another 5 year long friendship because of my alcoholic clingy stupid mental-health-issue-ridden ass.

lol

im ok dw. i truly want what's best for her and if its a life without me then i accept it. i will not be selfish and take more from her like i have. besides having zero friends will legit make me go out and make more because i die without social interaction (i say not showing up to uni for the third day week in a row because I'm lowkey agoraphobic and high-key depressed)

slay. perhaps i will write the most gut-churning sad angst to cope

[joyaphoria]

Hi! This might be a really weird ask, and probably means I have a problem, but if you ever do a part two to your 'Haikyuu Characters reacting to you self harming' , do you mind adding Iwaizumi please?

HAIKYUU BOYS CATCH YOU SELF HARMING (PART TWO)

characters: iwaizumi, bokuto, tanaka

warnings: self harm, comfort if your squint, sorta fluff if you squint rlly hard, mentions of skin cutting, mentions of pain, after effects, mentions of mental illnesses? mentions of blades, mentions of blood

note: i’m sorry this took so long, i was only updating this draft when i felt genuinely upset 😭 this is unedited so please bare with me, i rlly threw it out there. i was also half dead writing this <3 trigger warnings under the cut.

word count: 1.64k

part one here

© 𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢

IWAIZUMI

you've always struggled to love yourself

you constantly compared yourself to others, and it was really unhealthy

except you refused to talk to others about it, because you felt like you were dumping your issues on them

then again, you always accepted other peoples issues with open arms

iwaizumi had befriended you when you two got partnered for a project

when you weren't answering his calls one time (he needed to know if you submitted your part of the assignment) he snuck into your room through your window) and caught you sitting on the ground, a crimson-stained blade in hand

you freaked, but he promised to not tell anyone

instead, he listened to you; that night, you became more than just a therapist

but you should've known that it wasn't going to last; not when you felt iwaizumi slowly drifting away from you

then again, you weren't dating, and it wasn't his job to look after you

if iwaizumi could hear your thoughts right now, he would probably be upset. he spent all that time fixing you, only to have you throw it all away.

you knew that it was wrong, but you could help it. you were running out of options, and with the few you had left, this was definitely the safest one.

refusing to eat dinner for what seemed to be the fifteenth time in a row, you escaped to your room with a glass of water.

plopping down in front of your mirror, you took hold of your tummy rolls. maybe plastic surgery would do it.

why couldn't you look like the pretty models on your feed? was it that hard? why could you do it?

maybe if you did, iwaizumi would like you back. throwing a hoodie on, you curl up in bed and sob.

a few minutes into your breakdown, you stomach grumbles. you pause for a moment, your mind falling into senseless rage.

"are you stupid or what?" you growl, wipping your stuffy nose on your sleeve. "you're no fucking help."

infuriated, you throw yourself off your bed, rummaging through your desk.

after finding the pocket knife, you pause for a minute.

was it worth it?

nevertheless, you sit on the floor, back against the bed, and wipe down your arm.

refusing to look, you cut aimlessly, then spray it down with perfume.

you scream into your pillow when it starts stinging, clutching at your arm.

"you good?" the familiar laugh sounds from the other side of your bed, and your body freezes up. "sorry i wasn't able to talk much, i had so much shit to study for..."

his voice trails off when he makes his way to the other end of the bed, your sprawled figure coming in to view.

"holy shit.." he stands there, taking in the blood that was dripping down your arm.

"i'm so sorry, i-i.. i don't know.." you keep your head down, the pain in his eyes too much to accept.

before long, he's on the ground beside you, holding your trembling body in his arms. he was crying with you.

"what changed?" he whispers, his own shaky voice soothing you.

"i'm so tired of everything." you sob into him, the blood soaking into his t-shirt disregarded. "i hate myself, i hate my body, i hate—"

"your body?" he pulls away to meet your eyes. "are you kidding? you're so beautiful."

you look away again, but he takes your jaw in his hand, and redirects your gaze at his face. "you know that i love you, right?"

you gulp, and he scoffs playfully through his nose. "there you go again, disregarding my feelings."

your head whips back at him, confused. "what do you mean feelings?"

"how many times do i have to tell you that i love you, for you to understand?"

"i-i thought you meant as friends...”

he chuckles lightly, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “of course not.”

BOKUTO

to keep it short and simple, bokuto never knew

he’s had the biggest crush on you throughout highschool, and when you returned his feelings during your third year, you guys hit it off

your relationship was wonderful, but everything was too good to be true

there were things you just couldn’t tell him, because he just seemed so carefree and happy, you didn’t want to ruin that for him

so you kept it all to yourself, including the scars on your thighs

this took a toll on you, and never helped anything very much

point is, secrets are made to be told eventually

you should’ve known that you wouldn’t be able to hide it forever

“yes, i know!” you scream, your head pounding from all the noise.

“you’re a lazy bitch, you know that? you sit in there all fucking day!”

you close your eyes and regulate your breathing, your moms screams from downstairs setting your emotions off.

yea, later you can come over. you reply quickly to bokuto, shutting off your phone.

“i’m trying to do my homework!” you sob, digging your nails into your palms.

weren’t the straight a’s good enough?

“you just sit and talk to your fucking friends! you’re so useless.” she yelled from downstairs, the front door slamming shut.

you break down in tears, your fists refusing to clench.

your body shakes and you tremble, and you open your mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.

the sobs you let out shake your entire body, searching for any kind of relief it could take.

you don’t mean to do it again.

it’s not like you want to, but you needed it. your body craved it, and your head felt like it was gonna spin off.

you were gonna hurl.

there was a smell in the room now, and it fogged your mind up, your senses in overdrive.

the feeling was overwhelming, but you didn’t hate it. you never hated it—that feeling that hypnotized you into thinking you were flying.

a feeling so—

“hey, sorry i’m-”

and just like that, the feeling is gone. it vanishes in a second,  quickly replaced with embarrassment and shame.

“bo.” you whispered softly. it’s too late, the damage is already done. you can’t hide or persuade him into thinking that this isn’t happening, because it is.

“w-what is..” he’s approaching slowly, getting down onto his knees beside you. “y-you do this?”

theres a wide variety of emotions visible on his face, as if he doesn’t know how to respond to a situation like that. he doesn’t have a solution, he can’t even figure out the problem.

“i’m sorry, bo.” is the only thing you can choke out, wishing that you haven’t done it again.

the painful look ripping his pure heart apart is enough punishment for you, the hard reality of your selfishness.

“y/n..” and bo’s crying, quickly gathering you in his arms as he rocks you both, the safety of his body bringing you a sense of tranquility.

no words had to be said, they were all silently released through his heartfelt actions that night.

TANAKA

this physically pains me to write because hes so baby

tanaka always knew that you struggled when it came to overwhelming emotions

you had a hard time expressing them, and the fact that you hated talking about your problems didn’t help at all

you didn’t want to express them, you didn’t want to talk about them, what else could you do?

see a therapist of course, who just so happened to be tanaka

he got you to open up to him, and used the excuse that ‘communication is key in a relationship’

it’s just that sometimes you felt as though you were making everything about you, and that he didn’t want to hear about your issues

you lied about getting better to him, and he didn’t think you would lie to him when it came to something like that

so he believed you

overwhelming emotion of the day: guilt.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”

you whisper to your sister over and over, and with tears in her eyes, she assures you that its okay.

but you knew that it wasnt. you slipped up and told your mom about something your sister did, and now you knew that she was in a shit ton of trouble.

she retreated quietly to her room, but her sobs managed to reach your ears, even through the door.

you know it’s your fault, even if she wants to tell you that it isn’t. you know you fucked up again, just like you did last time, and the time before that, and before that.

you fumble for your phone to message tanaka—to tell him how you’re feeling before the feeling becomes too much—but you remember; tanaka is at practice. he doesn’t have time for you right now, and you’d be selfish if you were to bother him.

so you sit on your floor, curled into a ball, punching, and slapping, and hitting yourself.

“stupid.” you whisper, hitting your head over, and over, and over again. 

your head rung and you were dizzy, but you weren’t done. not yet.

maybe if you had stopped there, you wouldn’t have passed out. maybe if you had stopped there, you would’ve noticed the way that tanaka stood in your doorway in shock, unsure of how to respond to the situation.

when you open your eyes, tanaka is hovering over you, crying.

“why were you hitting yourself like that..” he hesitates to ask, secretly hoping that you’d reply with something like “i don’t know.” because if you don’t know, it would probably be easjer to stop.

“because there’s nothing else to do.” you sob out, your head still ringing from the constant abuse.

and tanaka doesn’t know what to say the that, but he tries his hardest to talk you through this, even with the words and struggles unspoken.

[rogue-durin-16]

FIREWORKS AND STREAMERS

Request: I have been insecure about my curly hair lately and was wondering if you can you write something with one of the weasley twins where the reader is insecure about her curly hair and one of the twins makes her feel better.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff!Reader

Genre: fluff

Tags:

Requested by: @wildcat1434

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: none

A/N: So like, incoming fluff bc this idea was cute and sometimes I do be needing fluff, that's about it, enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The relationship between me and my hair had always been... Bumpy, you could say.

There were periods in which I would find it quite lovely; during those times I would let my curls free, showing them off with a proud demeanor, knowing my hair was unique. Those times began to turn less and less usual since the middle of third year, though they were still there.

However, after the summer prior to my sixth year, those moments had banished; I only wished to hide my hair, and my friends ended up noticing. They told me surely there would be a spell or potion able to change my hair.

As if they had summoned it, the next day in Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall introduced us to what seemed like my salvation; Crinus Muto, an advanced spell that modified the caster's hair with no restrictions.

My best friend advised me against using it, claiming it wouldn't help my insecurity— if only, it would worsen it.

I really wanted to do as she had told me and completely dismiss the spell's existence, but two nights after I had a big mental breakdown about it, caused by the most stupid thing ever.

"Is Weasley staring at you or am I blind?" One of my friends whispered, her eyes trained on the Gryffindor table.

I didn't even bother to look up, not wanting to know whether it was true or not, before responding with a quiet "You're blind."

"I mean, it's hard to tell with two rows of students between us but," She nudged me, urging me to avert my gaze from my dinner and redirect it to Fred. "it kinda looks like he's... staring."

Curiosity killed the cat, I guess. My eyes finally left my plate and were, in fact, met with Fred's brown ones. As soon as they met, though, he looked away, pretending to be focused on his food, just like I had been doing seconds ago.

"Of course he's staring." Hannah Abbot, who sat right in front of my friend, commented with her mouth full. "Have you seen your hair?" She swallowed her food, looking me up and down before adding, "No offense, but it's an absolute mess." My eyes opened widely in shock at her bluntness. "You should take care of it, really."

"Has someone ever told you you're an ill-mannered bitch, Hannah?" I heard my friend talking back at the younger girl while I got up and started to make my way out of the Great Hall.

Of course, I didn't see Fred shooting up and attempting to go after me; ultimately he decided to stay in his place, since he saw my friend walking out too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was very aware of all the pair of eyes that had been laid on me the very moment I entered the greenhouse where we would be doing the Herbology tasks.

When I had met my friends at the Hufflepuff common room that morning, I had received divided opinions about my straight hair. At first I had been very convinced that it looked way better than my curly hair, but seeing my friends' reaction, I wasn't that confident about it anymore.

I didn't have time to undo the spell before class, so I decided to go along with it and see how the day unfolded.

I took a deep breath, my eyes trained on the ground as I made my way to an empty seat; maybe there weren't that many people staring, maybe it was just my anxiety.

I finally gathered the courage and looked up, nervously scanning the glasshouse so I could shake off my fears.

There was only a couple of my peers staring, which would have put me at ease, if one of them wasn't Fred Weasley.

On top of it, of course, he wasn't even trying to be subtle, it was almost as if he wanted me to notice his judging eyes; I could feel his gaze on me for the entire class.

The instant Professor Sprout dismissed us, I shoved everything in my bag and left the greenhouse, thanking a couple of Gryffindors who complimented my hair on my way out.

Again, I didn't notice Fred leaving the class as soon as he could to run after me.

I threw my bag against a tree near the lake shore and, as I fell against it, I heard someone jogging in my direction.

"In a hurry to sit by the lake, Y/l/n?" I followed the tall ginger with my eyes while he circled me and sat down by me. "You alright?"

"I just needed a break from... People." I vaguely explained, focusing on the water instead of on the boy besides me.

"Understandable." He hesitated for a second before adding, "Do you want me to leave?"

"No, it's fine." I surprised myself at how calmed and collected I sounded, as if I wasn't chatting with my crush.

"What happened to your hair?" His genuinely curious inquiry took me aback, and I struggled to find something to answer.

"Why?" My heartbeat picked up, anxiety inundating me once more. "You don't like it?"

"It looks weird." Fred looked at me up and down with a grimace. "You don't... Look like yourself." I was about to enter fight or flight mode, but he seemed to notice, and panic made its way to his face. "But it doesn't matter what I think," he was quick to add, his eyes wide open as if he knew he had said something he should have not. "I mean— I think it shouldn't matter, if you like it, that's great— I mean, you don't need my opinion about that either!"

"Calm down, I understand." I tried to reassure him, before his rambling drove the both of us crazy. "Can I tell you a secret?" He nodded with pursed lips, surely afraid he would fuck up if he spoke again. "I've been very insecure about my hair lately— like, very." I sighed. "My best friend told me not to straighten it, but last night I got a not so nice comment and—"

"So that's why you left?" I nodded, tugging my sleeves. Fred went silent for a moment, and then cleared his throat and scooted closer to me. "I know this won't do much, but I really love your hair. Kinda reminds me of fireworks and streamers." He gestured around his own head, mimicking the fireworks' movement. "Dunno I think is fun and pretty awesome." I raised my brows at him in surprise. "Like you."

"Aw, that's very sweet." He offered me a sheepish smile as I felt my cheeks blushing. "It does a lot, actually." I confessed, fidgeting with my rings. "I guess I kinda needed to hear something positive about my hair."

"Well, whenever you need to hear something positive about your hair," he pointed at himself. "I'm your man." He winked at me and I let out a chuckle. "I can also tell you positive things about you in general, but that has a price."

"And what is it?"

"You'll have to let me buy you a drink at The Three Broomsticks this Saturday." I tried not to let panic slip through my recently eased demeanor; was he asking me on a date? "And give me a kiss after." He wiggled his brows at me and my face turned red. "the kiss is negotiable."

I casted my gaze down, fixing it on my shoes, not sure of what I was supposed to say at that. His foot tapping mine snapped me out of my thoughts.

"So?" My eyes traveled to him once more, only to find his studying me already. "What do you say, Y/l/n?"

"Well," I shrugged, trying in vain to play nonchalant. "Seems like an affordable price, so it's fine by me."

"I'll pick you up after lunch, yeah?" Before I could agree, he gasped, his eyes going wide. "I'm a genius."

"Come again?" I frowned, confused as his sudden frantic behavior.

"Don't mind me, love." He jumped up and jogged towards the castle, leaving me puzzled in there. I was about to grab a book from my bag when Fred rushed back, crouched down and pecked my cheek. "Your hair's amazing." He assured me. "See you!" My fingertips graced my now flushed cheek as he headed off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was finishing my lunch when two towering redheads entered the Hall running; while George, slowed down, Fred made a beeline to the Hufflepuff table, his casual clothes already on.

"Ready?" He asked breathless.

"Yeah— you didn't have lunch, did you?" I pointed out, getting up to stand in front of him.

"No, but I'll eat something later—" his eyes roamed over my carefully picked outfit before stating, "You look... very pretty."

"Why, thank you." I offered him a smile and looked over my shoulder at the Gryffindor table, where his friends were very attentive to all we did. "You sure you don't wanna eat something?"

"Hundred percent." He tilted his head towards the gates. "shall we?" He prompted to walk before him, and it was then that I realized he had his hands behind his back. Once we were out in the yard, he tugged my hand and made me turn to him. "I made something for you."

"You didn't have to." Was the first thing that came to my mind when I heard his words. Then the wording dawned on me; he didn't get me something, he made me something. "What is it?"

"So, you know that I told you your hair reminded me of fireworks and streamers?" I nodded, not quite knowing where he was going with that. "Well—" he then showed me what his back was hiding; a delicate, tiny firecracker with my name written on the side. "George helped me so I could finish it on time."

"I'm—" at my loss of words, I could only let out a happy laugh. "This is so cute— am I supposed to ignite it?"

"Duh!" I gently pushed his shoulder in response to his teasing. "Do you know how to do it?"

"I've seen you do it plenty of times." I admitted, grabbing the firecracker with one hand and my wand with the other; it looked so pretty, it was a pity I'd have to ruin it.

With a brief firemaking spell, the firecracker set off. Fred pulled me back slightly before it happened, though.

I was in awe at the beautiful fireworks before us, which looked like a color-changing, expanding version of my hair.

When the colors died out, I turned to Fred, whose attention was already on me, awaiting for a reaction. Surely, he was not expecting the kiss he got, but he didn't complain either; while my hands rested on his chest, his traveled to cup my cheeks before I could pull away.

"So you liked it?" He questioned quietly against my lips.

"I loved it." I whispered back with a wide smile. "You're a sweetheart." I pecked his lips before retreating. Holding his hand in mines, I made my way back into the castle. "We're not leaving until you have lunch."

"You are a sweetheart." He responded, following my lead without offering resistance. "By the way, your hair looks gorgeous." The corners of my lips twisted into a bigger smile at the sweet words he spoke only for me to hear as we went back into the Great Hall.

Maybe my hair wasn't that bad after all.

[sillyrabbit81]

The Pull

Summary: Alternative Universe. Vampire Henry. Henry, Crown Prince of the Vampires is avoiding his responsibilities because of his mothers fate. When Henry finds his mate, the circumstances are eerily similar to his mother's. Rather than risking his mate's life, Henry chooses to run, but can he run from his fate?

Pairing: Henry x OFC

Word Count: approx 2.4k

Warnings: mentions of suicide and death, blood drinking, swearing

Masterlist

Part 3 Part 5

Chapter 4

Rowena

David accompanied me home. He refused to say anything about tonight's events until we were back at my place. I tried to understand what had happened, but nothing made sense at all. Nothing in my life had ever made me feel the way I felt when I was in Henry's arms. It was almost like I was under a spell.

The all-consuming pull to him was unreal and was more than love or lust. It was like every cell of my body demanded I be with him. I forgot about everything in my life that wasn't him, even Charlie. I still felt the pull now, its force was significantly diminished compared to when I was with Henry, but it remained, lurking beneath my conscious thoughts. I could think for myself now, which was a relief.

By the time David and I arrived home, I was exhausted, both mentally and physically. I wanted to fall straight into bed, and I would have, except I knew I needed answers. I was going to take this damn dress off first, though. I still felt uncomfortable in it. I wondered if Henry liked it. I blushed as I remembered the way his hand comforted me, rubbing my bare back and how he licked his lips when he peered into my eyes with his swirling red and amber ones.

I tore my thoughts away from Henry and concentrated on the present as best I could. "Would you like some tea?" I asked David as we went inside.

David shook his head. "I'll make you one while you get changed, sister."

I was a little unnerved by the new way David talked. He appeared to be mimicking the speech and rhythm of both Henry and Lawrence. Both of them spoke well, it was David that made it strange since he never used to talk like that.

I got changed into leggings and a sweatshirt and went back to sit with David at the table in my tiny kitchen. As I walked in, I was surprised to see another man standing with David.

"Lawrence, what the hell are you doing here?" I was furious. How could he think he would be welcome here after what he had done? Even though I didn't understand what was going on, I knew that Lawrence had been the architect of the meeting tonight and had manipulated not only Henry and me but also David. "I didn't say you could come in."

"Oh, my sweet child. That's just a bit of misinformation we feed humans to make them feel safe." Lawrence said. I did a double-take and looked at David.

"Is he mentally ill?" I asked David.

Both men chuckled, and Lawrence asked David, "You haven't told her yet?" David shook his head, wiping a tear from his eye. "Then what have you been doing?"

Becoming serious, David said, "I know my sister. She should hear it here."

Lawrence threw his hands in the air with exaggerated gestures and flounced over to sit at the table. "Well, I suggest you start talking, Dearest One. I will stay and assist with questions of Henry, which I'm sure your sister will have. Won't you, dear Rowena?"

"Umm," I felt very much in the dark. Listening to them made me feel like I was watching Shakespeare. Yeah, I kind of knew what they are saying, but the true meaning was lost on me. "I do have questions about Henry, but more importantly, why are you threatening to take Charlie away from me?"

David took a moment to think and said slowly, "That's arguably not the best place to start."

"Well, start somewhere," I said, getting frustrated. "Start with why you look so different." I gasped, thinking I knew what could explain it. "Did you have plastic surgery?"

"No, Row, but I did undergo a..." David looked at Lawrence thinking. His face brightened, and he said, "a transformation."

"Transformation?" I asked incredulously. "Like a fucking caterpillar?"

Lawrence lost patience and sighed, "Oh, Dear Lilith, this is going to take forever." Lawrence reached across the table and took my hand. "There is no easy way to say this, and we don't have time to ease you into it. Your brother and I and everyone you saw at my home tonight are Vampires."

I looked from Lawrence to David. Lawrence looked sincere, while David looked like he felt sorry for me. I laughed, "Well, if that's all, I'll just go to bed."

"We are serious, Rowena," David said, completely deadpan.

"David, this is ridiculous, what..." I started but was struck dumb when Lawrence opened his mouth. I watched as his canine teeth grew and his eyes became bright red. Blood drained from my face, and I felt faint. Lawrence retracted his teeth, and his eyes returned to normal. Well, normal for him.

"Holy fucking duck shit," I swore.

David smacked Lawrence on his arm. "That was uncalled for, Lawrie."

Lawrence sighed. "Are you forgetting that we only have tonight and tomorrow night to get her prepared?"

"Just be a little understanding," David implored. "For me, as well as for her." David pouted.

Lawrence put a hand to my brother's cheek and said, "How can I refuse my Inamorato?" It would have thought it was a sweet thing to say if it wasn't directed at my brother, and he hadn't just made his teeth grow and eyes change colour.

I shook myself. This can't be true. But how could I explain what I saw? "What kind of trick was that?"

"No trick, Rowena," David said. "Watch." David imitated Lawrence and descended his teeth or fangs more accurately, and his eyes became red. Then he barred his teeth and growled so softly it was almost a purr.

Lawrence had David against a wall in a flash and held him by the throat. I didn't even see them move. I screamed, "Let him go, Lawrence!" David thrashed against Lawrence, trying to free himself from his partners grasp.

Without looking at me, Lawrence said, "I cannot do that, Little Sister. His Lust is out of control. He forgets how young he is sometimes."

"Lust? I'm his sister, for fuck's sake."

"Not that kind of lust, my dear child. A bloodlust." Lawrence said with all the emotion of someone ordering a pizza. He leaned against my brother's body, began whispering in his ear. I watched, disgusted as he held his wrist to David's mouth. David's fangs sunk into his lover's wrist, and he clamped his mouth over it. David's eyes slowly lost their red hue and returned to a small ring around the edge of his iris.

I hid my face in embarrassment when I saw my brother had a raging boner and was humping against Lawrence. To make it worse, David's growls had gone from animalistic to soft moans of enjoyment.

"Can you two get a room?" I felt ill.

David and Lawrence took a few more moments and returned to the table. "I apologise, Row. This has been quite a stimulating evening," David said remorsefully.

I played with my cup of tea, turning it by the handle in little circles, thinking about all I had seen tonight. Nothing made sense if I tried to calibrate it against my knowledge of the world. If I added Vampires to the filter by which I could judge the evening, surprisingly, it all made sense. Everyone I saw appeared otherworldly. They all moved with the grace of a prima ballerina even the men, some of which, like Henry, were far too large to move that way naturally.

The magnetic pull I had felt to Henry had made me think of a magical spell. Not to mention that we both seemed to recognise in each other the deep attraction. I had dreamed of him for years, and when he appeared, I knew I had to be with him. What could explain all of this except for something unnatural or something I had never encountered before.

"Vampires," I stated.

David took my hand, "Vampires." He agreed.

"This is insane," I said. I tried a different tact. "Ok, say I believed you. How do you become a Vampire?"

Lawrence answered, "Well, for men, there are two ways. You can be born, or you can be made. I was born David was made."

"And for women?" I asked.

"Women can only be made. All female Vampires were once human." Lawrence explained. "Our Universitalis scientists seem to believe it has something to do with a mutated gene on the Y chromosome."

"So Vampires aren't magic?" I asked. "You're mutants? Like X-men?"

"The current scholarly belief is that we are both. It's partly genetic and partly magic." Lawrence spoke up. "All vampires are born male and reach maturity at about 35 years old. Anytime after that, they will feel their Inamorata or mate. Some Vampires find their mates young, others don't. I am 203 years old and have only just found my mate."

"Wait, so you two are mates?" I asked.

"Yes," David replied. "Lawrence found me when he..." David paused and started again. "When Lawrence found me, I felt all the things you are feeling. I understand the Pull to be with your Inamorato, I felt it too."

"So I am..." I couldn't make myself say his name. I was too fearful of what they had told me.

"Henry's mate, yes," Lawrence confirmed.

I waved the information away. Somehow I knew if I concentrated on Henry again, I would obsess about him and not think of anything else. I had more to find out. I had to protect my son. "So, what does that have to do with Charlie?" I asked.

They looked at each other. David shrugged. They were quiet a few moments until Lawrence said, "Henry's father Alfred, the King, is a brutal man. When the King met his mate, Henry's mother, she was married with a child. Now, this is uncommon. Many vampires meet their Inamorata when their mates are young, roughly 16-20 years old. Perhaps it was because the king didn't care to find his mate, but he didn't find her until she was 25.

"The King took her immediately, and in a fit of rage, killed her child and husband. She never recovered from the death of her child. Of course, she felt the initial bond as you and Henry feel it now, but the bond must be fostered with love and proximity once consummated. The King wasn't that kind of man. He impregnated her and sent her away.

"After Henry was born, grief over her husband and child festered until she decided to take her life. She almost took Henry's, but the bond held enough for the King to realise something was wrong and took Henry before she could go through with it. He didn't try to save her, and he allowed her to die. He had an heir, which was all he needed from his mate.

"Rightly or wrongly, Henry believes he would do the same as his father had done, he thinks he would have no choice. So when he found you with a child, he walked away. With great difficulty, mind you. He has been in misery for the last few years.

"I would not have interfered, but there is a war coming. Different factions are vying for power both within the Vampire world and the external world. I couldn't allow Henry to face the upcoming battle as he was miserable and broken, so I forced you together tonight. Henry will not avoid his Inamorata this time. He almost took you tonight. Did you feel the moment?"

I nodded. I remembered the moment Lawrence was talking about. The moment where I had begged him to take me. The moment David had interrupted. Is that what would have happened? Would we have completed the mating? "How do you consummate the bond?" I asked.

"Henry will bite you, marking you as his mate. He will drink your blood until you are nearly dead, and then he will feed you his. Then you will turn, and by next sunrise, you will be desperate for him, and you will make love at which time you will bite him, marking him as yours."

"Fuck." I said. "You did that, David?"

David squirmed in his seat, a little uncomfortable. "Yes. It is actually a much more meaningful process than what my lover makes out here."

"Regardless of how it feels, it must be done," Lawrence said academically. "He will be strong enough with you be his side to take leadership from his father."

"What? Why must he do that?"

"His father is in league with some werewolves, and there is talk of a dual coming out to humans. The reveal would also involve the subjection of all humanity. Keep in mind all Vampire mates were human, so it is unpopular with many Vampires to suggest that we should overthrow humanity and enslave them. Many Vampires are seeking to revolt and looking for leadership. Most see Henry as that leader as he has always been sympathetic to humans. However, Henry's status as unmated was held against him by the dissidents. Many were unwilling to support an unmated King because of the weakness in most unmated males. The Vampires you saw tonight are witness to the fact that Henry has found his mate. We accepted his father being unmated and most regret that decision."

Almost all of the explanation of Vampires' politics went over my head and, at this point, was ultimately uninteresting. I had other concerns. "What will happen to Charlie?"

"We will take Charlie. We don't have the drive to breed, so he will be safe with us." David said.

"Would I be able to see him if you had him?" I asked.

"It would be best if you didn't." Lawrence explained, "We don't know how Henry would react. Henry may smell him and want to kill him. Once the bond is consummated, we will know more. The bond is strong, especially until you have bred."

"Bred?" I said, furious. "You're making it sound like I am a broodmare. You two cant breed, why are you mates?"

"Lilith has other plans for us," Lawrence said with a shrug.

"I, uh, I think that's all I can take tonight," I said. It was too much. I had a small plan formulating in my head. But I needed to get away from these two, I had a sneaking suspicion they could read my mind. "I'm going to bed."

"We will be here. We will go to sleep when you wake up." David said.

I nodded and went to give David a kiss on the cheek. He shook his head as I approached. Oh right, hungry Vampire. When I was in my bedroom with the door closed, I formulated a plan.

Part 5

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Rise Of Glory || 6

Again, it cries, and again, and again.

Harry and I wander to the cobble steps to his mother's house, Alex asleep in Harry's arms from the long drive. The drive was quiet, not because I am tired but because I don't know what to say at this point. Nothing I do or say is going to change things or make anything better. I am at a loss.

The door opens, and his mother stands in the doorway, bewildered by our sudden appearance. I don't blame her. It is unlike us to abruptly show up on her doorstep. Most of the time, Harry gives her a heads up.

She grants us her routine tender smile and ushers us inside.

"What brings you two here suddenly?" Harry's Mum questions.

I glance towards Harry, curious as to what he plans to tell her. Telling your mother you only came to visit to see a grave is not something you'd want to admit out loud or at all.

"Uh," Harry clears his throat, "The media have swarmed my building and are starting to come out at the house. We came here to get a break," Harry answers, opening his arms to half-hug his mother, who he has missed dearly, he won't admit it, but he has. He may hate having to come to Cheshire, I don't think that will ever change, but he loves having his mother back in his life at a more constant and healthier level. Their relationship has improved tremendously since I came here when we first started dating all those years ago. I still remember that weekend like yesterday.

It was the weekend I realised that the man I was falling in love with gives everything he has, mentally, emotionally and physically, to his mother and sisters wellbeing. He'd allow himself to drown a million times if it meant his family could stay afloat.

"I'm going to put him down," Harry informs his mother and me, giving me a tired smile before walking past me and down the hallway towards Harry's old bedroom.

Harry's Mum peers over towards me, her brows furrowing and her lips pursing; I can tell her thoughts are ticking away and that something is playing intensely on her mind. She has the same expression Harry has when he wants to say something but leaves the words on the tip of his tongue, unsure of whether to say them or not.

I cock my head to the side, debating myself whether to give her the go-ahead to tell me whatever is on her mind.

"He's lying to me," Anne bluntly states before I can figure out how to ask her what's on her mind, "You had to have left at around 3 in the morning to be here by now. He's tired, almost like he hasn't slept in days," she points out, "And you… you look exhausted too. I don't believe it's the media at your house that caused you both to drive up here… I'm not complaining. I'm just… I'm curious."

"It has been a long week for him. He wanted to get away." I don't know who I am trying to convince more, myself or her.

"He hates it here with a passion. I have seen the articles."

I nod, agreeing with her. She knows the truth. Harry doesn't bother trying to hide the fact that he still hates this place. Even when we first started dating, he made it known he wasn't happy to be back. His home town brings back memories he doesn't want to remember, especially when he and his relationship with his mother were strained to the point they weren't speaking at all. "This is where he wanted to come."

"But it isn't where he wants to be… he hates it up here… are things that bad in London?" She questions softly, and I can't help but nod. She looks me up and down and bites her lip for a moment, almost as if she's holding back whatever thoughts are racing through her thoughts, "Are you and Harry okay? You're not fighting or?"

"We're fine," I immediately cut her off, "It's the business and the media that's pushing him off the rails."

"Mhm," she hums, "And you, are you okay?"

I give her a small smile and nod, "I'm okay."

"You're lying."

"Anne—"

"Honey, don't take this the wrong way, but you look exhausted. Have you slept at all?"

"It's been a rough few months," I softly respond, "It has taken a lot out of me."

The last three months have been an absolute roller coaster, mentally, emotionally and physically. I'm not quite sure how I've managed to keep things together to the extent I have. There are still days I feel like the world's weight is so heavily on me that I can't breathe. There are days I feel like I'm drowning and can't pull myself away. There are the days I feel like I'm finally okay and can breathe, but the second I manage to come up for air, there's something to pull me down, whether it's work-related, family-related or past related.

"Why didn't you call? Harry kept saying you were fine."

"I have been fine," I respond softly.

In all honesty, I have been fine… kind of. I'm as fine as what can be expected, considering the events that have happened. I'm not going to lie, I may be fine, but I'm still very much up and down when it comes to things. There are good days, and there are bad days.

"If you ever need me, I'm just a call away. You know that, right?" She offers me her sweet, caring smile that has always assured me of tough times and situations.

"Yes, I know."

"Okay, go get yourself some sleep."

"I have work I need to do once I get my laptop out of the car. We might be up here, but the business doesn't stop just because we aren't there."

"Well, at the very least, take a seat on the couch, put your feet up and relax for a minute. Let me at least make you some tea."

"You're too kind to me," I smile towards her.

"You're kind to my son. It's the least I can do for my darling daughter-in-law," she beams.

Anne hands me a steaming cup of tea as I answer a few emails from my phone, too tired to go out and get my laptop. "I have one last question."

"Mhm," I hum, waiting for her to ask what is on her mind.

"What happened to his hand?"

"Oh, he was washing dishes and somehow cut his hand," I tell her the truth.

I don't think it is my place to tell her about Logan or that Harry might be losing his mind. Right now, it is up to Harry to speak to her and want to talk about things. I cannot force him. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. Harry will speak when he feels like speaking, and he will tell his mother when he is ready and on his terms.

I don't think I should be the one to tell her that we made the long drive up here just because Harry can't wrap his head around the fact Logan has risen from the dead. No mother wants to hear that as a reason as to why their son has finally visited.

I wish I could say that we visit here often for good occasions, but it is far from the truth. We come up here for holidays, and that is as far as it goes. I have made the drive a few times with Alex to get away from the city, but that has been on rare occasions. Harry doesn't like the idea of me making the drive on my own, and he hates having to come up here. We have settled on staying away from Cheshire and having his mother visit us when she can. I do wish things were a bit different. I do wish we lived closer to his Mum or came up here often. I think it would benefit Harry to be around his mother more and have a family sense. He has my family, but it is different. His mother is irreplaceable, and I know that deep down, he misses his sister. They may not be on the best of terms right now, but I know he loves and misses her.

When Alex is a little older, I would often like to bring him up here to see the neighbours' baby animals. He would love playing with the goats and picking fresh farm eggs, which is not as usual in our life. He would be thrilled to run the fields without a care in the world, a completely different environment compared to home. We have a lot of space for him to run around at home but nothing like the countryside.

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

With Harry's fingers laced with my own, I pass the identical headstones that I passed in November of 2021, on the same day we buried Logan.

Nothing has changed about the cemetery. It's still as uncanny and ill-fitting as it was that day. The headstones are still cracked and withered with the voyage of seasons. It is a shame how the graves fade away. It's almost as though since these souls have left earth, nobody cares enough to fix up the graves that have cracked and deteriorated. It bothers me now like it did the day I walked through here a few years ago.

This cemetery is old, at least over 100 years old. I remember noticing some of the inscriptions when I was here last dated back to the 1800s. These monument stones of cold, decaying cement have presumably observed more people and tears of melancholy and exuberance than one could probably picture. And yet, nobody can take the time to take care of the graves. There are scarcely any flowers on the graves.

It disheartens me that as I escort past all these graves, I still feel saddened even years later because we pass by people who have once lived and wandered this very earth.

"Harry, are you sure it's this way?" I challenge as we pass another row of headstones.

I can't tell if my anxiousness tells me we have gone too far or if we need just to leave and go back home. Part of me doesn't want to wander any further than what we have. After all, walking through grave yeards is always eerie.

"I'm sure I know where my dead brother is buried," Harry grimly mutters, "I was here for it." Harry reminds me of the day he endured.

"No need to be so… morbid," I inform him, doing my best to keep my voice low. We don't need an argument in the middle of a cemetery, even if he is a dickhead.

I stop in my tracks, and Harry turns to glance at me as his hand leaves mine, "Why are you stopping?" Harry questions, and I can't help but take a moment to take in his features as a distraction.

I don't know how to tell him that I don't feel comfortable walking in this cemetery, I don't want to go any further, and I don't think this is a beneficial approach. Nothing good ever comes from this place. I push away my thoughts and feelings, "I couldn't remember if I checked on Alex before we left," I lie. I know I checked on Alex before we left. He was still asleep and cuddled up to his teddy bear.

"We both did, love. Mum knows what she's doing, and you know that, relax," Harry responds, kissing my cheek before lacing his fingers back with mine and beginning to walk again.

Harry and I come to an abrupt standstill, and the two of us become withdrawn while we take in the view of what's in front of us. Harry squeezes my hand gently, and I can't help but squeeze back, a small amount of reassurance for him to know that I am right here and that I can see the same thing he can see.

The deafening silence is intruded abruptly and without signal by the ghastly screech of a blackened crow— the same intense screech that I swear I first heard once Logan was buried in this plot.

Again, it cries, and again, and again.

I shiver as a tingle operates through my body, the character of the crow sounding like nails on a chalkboard. This is the same place I stood in years ago when the crow first screeched—Harry was squatting by the grave, gazing at the soil, and I was standing right here.

I take a breath of the crisp air, and my eyes immediately cast themselves on the crow that is shrieking. Its relentless stare catches my own before I take note that it isn't alone. Harry and I are outnumbered and are intently observed by one… two... three… four… five crows, possibly six; I can't tell if the shadow in the distant tree is one of them or not. Either way, I wish we had never come here. They say if you see five crows, sickness will follow; see six crows, and death will follow.

A gust of wind whisks past us, settling brittle, dead leaves to dance around our shoes to take my gaze away from the crows. I watch the leaves swing around our feet, twirling around us like vines, almost as though they're tightening around our feet and ready to pull us down. I caress my hand to my stomach as I observe the leaves tumbling, leaving me with a heavy feeling in my stomach that twists, knots, and tightens like the motions of the leaflets. The breeze declines, and the leaves become motionless.

I gaze back towards where the first crow was, only to find it gone, leaving me with nothing but an unsettling uneasiness in the pit of my stomach and an abandoned grave of where Logan used to rest.

[bythegraceofcass]

Hey Ladies and Men, and my Non-Binary friends. Bythegraceofcass, here. I decided to share the first chapter of my Stucky fic here. I'm dying for support and readers with this one. It not only keeps me motivated but it means a lot to me when people enjoy my stories, because all I want is to write stories that make people laugh, cry and feel all warm and fuzzy inside. So, please, take a moment to read this chapter. If you like it, hop on over to my fic on AO3, the first 3 chapters are up and I am almost done writing chapter 4. ❤ Thank ya'll, and Happy Holidays.

P.S. this is an AU, It is not a canonical story.

Unintended, Chapter 1

Summary:

After surviving a harrowing terrorist attack in New York City, Bucky Barnes finds himself in dire need of a little helping hand. Or, rather, paw. In comes Natasha, Bucky's best friend and much adored professional dog handler in the dog show world. While on a fateful trip to a dog show to search for a breeder to get his service dog prospect from, Bucky lays eyes on someone surprisingly even more beautiful than Natasha Romanoff herself.

Steve Rogers is everything Bucky could possibly dream of, if he could dream.... that is. Plagued with awful nightmares, flashbacks, chronic pain, a metal arm and mental illness, Steve is just what Bucky needed to give him the push he deserved towards finding his self worth. But is Bucky capable of loving and being loved? Or does his traumatic past and pain, both physical and mental, prevent him from finding the happiness he truly deserves? Is Steve Rogers just another pretty fling, or the doorway to Forever?

Chapter One

Bucky sighed as he got out of Natasha’s shiny black Corvette. His neck ached from the weight of his prosthetic metal shoulder, he slid on his black leather glove, a long sleeved red Henley preventing his prosthetic to be seen by the outside world. “Natasha, is this really necessary? Couldn't I just go to the pound, pick out a dog there?” Natasha rolled her eyes as she shut the driver's side door “Bucky, you know very well that isn't how it works. You need a well bred puppy from someone who responsibly breeds healthy dogs if you want to train a dog to be your service dog. Mostly, shelter dogs really don't work.” Bucky glared at her, reverting his gaze to the building which held hundreds of barking dogs of every breed, vying for the most prestigious ribbons to prove their pedigree bloodlines and stellar structure.

Bucky grit his teeth, a dog show is not the place he wanted to be. He had a migraine, and a migraine whilst stuck in a room with a bunch of barking, whining dogs is not the place he wanted to be. But Natasha told him he would be most successful landing a good, responsible breeder to get his puppy from, here. Since she was a professional dog handler, she had some in's and out’s to the best breeders in the nation. Most were friends and clients of hers, and in the dog world, anyone who's a friend of Natasha's is a friend of theirs.

Today, Natasha didn't have a dog to show. But, since she was very well known and many breeders and owners wanted to hire her to get their dog finished, she always came dressed and ready to enter the ring. Bucky secretly envied her. She was beautiful, successful in honestly the hardest and most cut throat industry out there, and married. Here he was crippled, disabled and working at Stark Industries after… well, after. Not to mention, bi and single. He and Natasha had a thing a while back, but it never went anywhere.

They were better off friends.

They got their fold up chairs out of the trunk and walked inside the building. Almost immediately, Bucky was assaulted with people grooming their dogs, blow drying their dog's fur, trimming nails, accentuating muscle groups on their dog's bodies. Most every dog he saw was absolutely beautiful, even the breeds he wasn't fond of. He noticed a long line of people waiting to enter a section circled off with a white fence, about thigh or waist high. Next to them were the most beautiful Golden Retrievers he had ever seen. “Natalia. I think I’m gonna go watch the Goldens.” Bucky sometimes called Natasha by the Russian version of her name, ever since she found out he had a Russian ancestor- Just one- she'd insisted he "tap into his Russian roots". To the dismay of Bucky, who was mostly American on his father's side and Romanian on his mother's, he did. Only because he was forced, and Natasha was scary when she was crossed.

Bucky made his way over to the ring and set his chair up, he took his phone out and set it in the cup holder on the arm. He pushed back his long hair out of his face and sighed, subtly rubbing his temple in attempt to soothe his aching head which was only made worse by the noise in the building. He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for. Sure. Nat had told him a thing or two about proper canine structure and what to look for in a dog… but to him, a dog was a dog. As long as they were loyal that’s all he cared about. After the… incident… Bucky was never the same. Plagued by constant pain, nightmares, flashbacks, Anxiety and Depression, that drugs could never cure, despite the fact that he kept taking them, Natasha talked Bucky into getting a Service Dog. He didn't see a problem in getting one. He loved dogs, and had always wanted one. As a kid, he was busy caring for his sisters and his Ma never wanted dogs in the house. She said she had enough to worry about with three kids. However, as a tax-paying adult living in his own place, Bucky could do whatever the hell he wants. And now, Bucky wanted a dog.

He watched as handlers and dogs entered the ring, just as Natasha set her chair up and sat down next to him. Suddenly, his eye caught a tall, muscular, blond haired man jogging into the ring and kneeling down next to his dog to set him up in a stack. The man wore a smart light grey suit with a light blue shirt, which he could visibly see chiseled abs through, and grey paisley tie. It accentuated the dog, not to mention his body, perfectly. “Hey. Who's that?” Bucky nudged at Natasha, pointing subtly at the golden haired man. “Oh, that.. is Steve Roger’s. Fierce competition and… one of the best Golden breeders in New York. He lives over in Brooklyn. I was hoping he'd be here. His dogs are incredible.” Bucky never took his eyes off of him, Natasha smirked. “I also believe he's single. I’m pretty sure he's gay. I’ve never seen him with a girl, nor does he ever hit on any of the female competition here.” Bucky blushed, glaring at her before reverting his eyes back to the gorgeous man with the pretty dog. “I’m not here for that Nat.” Bucky shifted in his seat, his shoulder and head beginning to ache even more. He rubbed at his temple again. “I’m interested in getting a puppy from him.”

In all actuality, Bucky was actually interested in him. Not his puppies. However, he was technically here for one reason. He could go to any random bar and get laid there if he wanted to; but that wasn't how his mama raised him and he knew it. Bucky watched as the handlers exhibited their dogs to show off their strongest attributes, if a dog had a poor topline but gorgeous front, the handler made sure to show that off to the judge. All handlers were knelt down baiting their dogs and holding their tails up, as per standard, and the judge quickly, but efficiently, made her rounds. Stopping at each dog to take in their overall structure and appearance.

When she stopped at Steve's dog he made sure to give the judge eye contact. And, would you believe it, the little shit had the audacity to flash an adorable, albeit charming, smile that made Bucky's heart flutter. The two exchanged words, which made it obvious she thought something highly of him, and moved on to the next. Natasha rolled her eyes and snorted “And that, my friend, is how Rogers just won the entire breed ring, even though it just started.” Bucky looked at her in total confusion. Natasha sighed in slight irritation at his absolute ignorance despite her constant aspirations to convert him and turn him into a dog obsessed fiend like her.

“Okay, notice that cute little smile Steve just gave the judge? The eye contact? Exchange of words? There's really one thing that makes the dog world go round and that is called Politics. As I've mentioned, Steve has phenomenal dogs with beautiful structure and even prettier pedigrees. Every Judge in the country knows that.” She looked from Bucky to Steve “Paired with his own gorgeous looks, he always manages to earn nothing more than Best of Breed.” Bucky reverted his gaze back to Steve, ‘I know how you feel lady. He could punch me in the nuts and I would ask him to do it again', he though to himself.

Once the judge finished making her rounds, she went back to the front of the row. Everyone stood up, making sure their dog stayed in their perfect stances. One by one, a handler walked up to a taped off rectangle in front of the ring and situated their dog. The judge checked the dogs bite and ran her hands along the animals body to check his structure, then she watched as the handler strategically jogged down the ring in a vertical straight line and back to show the dogs movement. Once they returned, the handler would ask the dog to do what was called a “free stack”, which essentially was getting the dog to automatically stack themselves up without help from the handler to prove they were “built right". If a dog cannot do a natural stack, they have poor structure and will not win or be considered for the breed gene pool.

Finally, it was Steve's turn. He did everything so gracefully. From setting his dog up, to jogging down the ring to gait his dog. The golden retriever he showed was the epitome of the breed, himself. Bucky was in absolute awe. Sure, he'd watched Natasha show dogs of almost every breed many times, but he had never seen an exhibition so graceful before.

Man, he was really in deep. And he'd never even spoken to the guy. Yet.

About an hour and a half later, the judge had viewed every male and female dog in her assigned breed. Just like Natasha foresaw, Steve's dog won. For whatever reason, Bucky was happy he did.

After what seemed like an eternity, after pictures were taken of the winning dogs for the day, the handlers who won went back to their grooming area to wait for the group ring. Natasha got up and Bucky followed suit, making sure to food up their chairs and carry them with him. As they made their way to Steve's grooming table, Natasha was constantly stopped for hugs, kisses, hand shakes, greetings from her fellow handlers and breeders. She’d even gained some new clients.

Once they arrived to Steve's area, he had his suit jacket hanging on his chair and was stood at his grooming table, touching up his prized winning dog. Bucky internally swore, he could literally see the man's back muscles ripple through his thin dress shirt. And nothing turned Bucky on more than a well muscled back.

“Hey, Rogers.” Steve turned around and instantly lit up, a broad toothy grin plastered on his face “Natasha.” He pulled the petite redhead into a big bear hug “long time no see,” He said after releasing her. “You showing today?” Natasha shook her head in answer. “No. Actually, I’m here with a friend.” Steve then reverted his gaze to Bucky. “Steve. This is Bucky. Bucky, Steve. “ the two men shook hands, Bucky couldn't help but notice the guy was a tad bit stronger than him. Which wasn't something he frequented in other gay male suitors.

“Steve, Bucky is actually looking for a breeder to bring home a puppy from. This puppy will be rather special. Buck, here, hope’s to train the little fur ball up to be his trusted Service Dog.” Natasha explained. Steve’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had never had someone approach him for a service prospect before, but he had no doubt his dogs couldn't be great at the job. After all, his motto was versatility, intelligence, health and structure over anything else. “I think I would be more than honored to place a pup with you, Bucky. Normally, people just email or call me and ask for prices of my puppies.” He rolled his eyes, obviously frustrated by the mere mention of the way most people inquired “I like your style. It means a lot that you came here to get a first glance at your choices in breeders.”

Bucky couldn't help but smile in response to Steve's praise. “Well, I have a certain little spiteful redhead in my life. If I didn't come, I knew I would personally have to pay for it later on.” He shuddered in mock fear and Natasha elbowed him in the ribs, to which Bucky yelped slightly. “What he means to say, is, I taught him everything he knows. He knew it would be the obvious responsible choice. Once he gets that puppy, I’m definitely getting gratitude cookies.” Natasha glared at Bucky playfully.

“So, what kind of service do you need from the dog, if you don't mind my asking, Bucky?” Bucky hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the question. Steve quickly took notice in his discomfort, blushing, he immediately softened the blow. “I-I mean. So I can pair you with the right pup. That way you won't get stuck with something that won't meet your needs and lifestyle. It's totally up to you if you want to share it with me.” Bucky shifted his weight to his other foot and took a slightly shaky breath. He hated talking about the suffering the… incident… brought him. “He really just needs light to medium mobility and psychiatric work. So, maybe an easy going, intelligent, stable, steady dog will do it. A pup who scores a ‘4’ on the Volhard Test will do perfectly.”

Bucky relaxed. He was definitely baking Natasha gratitude cookies.

Steve nodded, obviously slightly deep in thought. “Alright. I think I may have the perfect pairings for you. Do you work?” A much easier question he could answer. “Yes. I’m an engineer at Stark Industries.” Steve once again raised his eyebrows and whistled. “Nice. Tony Stark has a reputation for offering the best pay and benefits a job has to offer.” Steve glanced at his dog laying lazily on the grooming table. “This, here, is Valor. He's a two and a half year old male. He’s one of my best studs right now, and actually one of the males I have in mind to sire your pup.” Steve reached out and lovingly stroked the dog's head. “You can pet him if you’d like. He loves attention, as any Golden worth their salt would. Don’t’cha pal?” the dog thumped his tail on the grooming table in response.

Bucky reached out with his flesh hand and gently stroked the dog's ear. The dog licked his hand briefly, signaling that he was clearly his new bestest friend. Bucky smiled, there was a sense of joy dogs brought him that no other human could. Well.

Except for maybe one human, now.

Steve smiled warmly, Valor had always had a knack for being a good judge of character and rarely gave people kisses. Maybe Bucky was better than he realized. He glanced at his watch and sighed. “Bucky, would you be okay with coming by my house tomorrow? Just so you could better get to know my dogs and we could interview each other.” Bucky's ears perked up. “Sure!” Bucky winced at his response. A little too enthusiastic Barnes, tone it down a notch “ I mean. Sure. What time?” that's better. “2:30 too late?” Bucky shook his head “2:30 is perfect. Whatever is best for you.” Steve pulled out his wallet and grabbed a pen from his grooming bag, scribbled something quickly on the back of the card, and handed it to Bucky. On the front it read

‘Marvel Golden Retrievers

Steve Rogers

Breeder/Owner/Handler’

On the back was Steve's business number.. and-

“My personal number and address. I don't normally give out that information too quickly, but you’re an exception.” Natasha glanced up at him and smirked, to which Bucky flustered and blushed ever so slightly. “Thanks. I, uh… I’ll text you my number when I get home.” Steve offered his hand to shake, which Bucky accepted whole heartedly. “Well. It was nice to meet you Bucky. Good to see you again Natasha.” The two hugged again, before they pulled apart and Steve said “Don't be such a stranger next time.” Natasha smiled “I’ll be at a show next weekend. Maybe I’ll see you there.” Steve winked at her in agreement. Which did nothing to help Bucky's pure and unadulterated lust at the moment. “See ya tomorrow, Bucky.” And the three parted ways.

Natasha didn't say a word until they got back in the car. “You’re totally gonna bone Steve.” Bucky shoved her “Shut up and drive. Do something useful for once in your life.” Natasha smirked “Gratitude cookies.” And the car vibrated to life with a steady purr.