#sorry for being so down lately ill post nicer things later- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dontbesoweirdkira · 4 years

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Can you do a list of Mic being pure w/ his favorite student, (y/n) (like, he’s not afraid to show it), but she’s living with her friend and their family since she’s alone in Japan, and trying to keep it a secret. But when he finds out he’s just “ASDFGHJKLWHAT”, and he’s trying to help her with so many things, which soon evolves to “custody of child—”.

https://dontbesoweirdkira.tumblr.com/post/189518600672/hey-its-me-again-i-hope-you-are-still-open-for

A/N: I first would like to say I ALSO HAVE EATEN A NUCLEAR REACTOR...it tasted like radiation and strawberries yummy! Here’s your soft present mic X student. I hope you enjoy.

(I kind of made it where you aren’t fully living with your friend. Just bouncing from the streets to her house every so often if that makes sense??)Requests open

-So at first Mic didn’t notice anything was up...well no he did but he kind of brushed it off since he didn’t want to cross any boundaries.

-Like when he asked for your parents signature but they were always somehow “out of town” or “working overtime”

-Or when he was going to offer you a ride home since it was pretty late but you just insisted to walk by yourself. And how you didn’t bother to call them and let them know you were going to be home a bit later than usual.

-He was always curious but like i said he didn’t want to cross a boundary and make you feel uncomfortable about something so personal. Besides how would he bring it up?

-”Hey Y/N, Why do you always conveniently “forget” to fill out your home address on forms?”

-Yeah see his dilemma?^ And like what if it was nothing and it really was just a convenience. It seemed better to leave it alone and not worry. You’d tell him if something was going on, right?

-Maybe one day you’re talking to your friend and He’s just around the corner so he overhears the conversation.

-”Hey Y/N, my family is going out of town for a few weeks. I- i would ask if you could come with so you’ll have some place to stay but we are going out of the county and you know how that is..”

-”Oh..um..Don’t worry, I'll figure something out.”

-”Are you sure? I- i can always leave the house key so you can have somewhere safe to go? But uhm, My cousin might come over every so often to watch a game or to check the house so be alert and make sure he doesn’t see you.”

-”N-No it’s okay, seriously. I’ll find somewhere to go, thank you though. ”

-”Well, I'll leave the key under the doormat if you change your mind, we’re leaving in the afternoon tomorrow so after then the place will be yours for a bit.I’ll text you later, ‘kay?”

-He’s shocked?? Like he thought maybe your at home life wasn’t good or maybe you were embarrassed about living in a low income place, but you were homeless?? And you’ve been staying with your friends every so often?? Why didn’t you tell him? Did you not feel comfortable? He’s in this weird state of shock and acknowledgement.

-For the rest of the school day hE Is cOnTemPlaTiNg oN WhaT tO Do. He’s not sure how he should bring it up or even if he should bring it up.

- *is casually being torn apart internally as he’s trying to teach english*

-*dEeP sPaCe STarE while he is standing at the board pointing to the sentence structures*

-”Sensei, are you oka-”

-”IMTHINKINGASHARDASICANTOFIGUREOUTASOLUTIONDONTPRESSUREMEoKaY.”

-lolol but once classes are over he taps you on the shoulder and asks if he could walk with you home for a bit. You visibly nervous, you reject and say “Umm It’s all right Mr.Hizashi, you’re busy and I don't want you to take up any of your time plus it’s late and I'm tired and i have to go and-”

-”Y/n...You don’t have to make up excuses, I know you don’t have anywhere to stay.”

-stopping in your tracks, your eyes went wide and you faced him

-”I heard you talking to that friend this morning.”

-M-mr.Hizashi I can explain-”

-cutting you off once again he begins “Hey, you don’t have to do any of that. It’s your business. But I don’t want you to just roaming around or staying anywhere alone anymore, okay? If you would like, I have an extra bedroom at my house, you can stay there until we get everything sorted.”

-”No..Mr.Hizashi...It’s okay..I’ll be okay, I’ve always have. Plus you have been such a great teacher and already went out of your way more than what I could have asked...staying with you would be too much.”

-”Y/n, it’s okay to ask for help. I seriously don’t mind. At least stay for the night so you can eat and have a roof over your head, then in the morning we’ll figure something out.”

-You hesitantly accepted but you told him that you’d be out of his hair as soon as the next morning hit.

-That night going to his house was...nice to say the least. The guest bedroom that he had was bigger than your friend’s kitchen and nicer than any place that you’ve stayed at. It really was heaven. So warm and cosy. There was a nice sense of nostalgia and security, something you’ve haven’t felt in years. His home was somewhere anyone would want to live in their whole lives.

-”Once you’ve settled down, you can come to the dining room. I ordered some take out, I figured you’d be hungry.”

-For a moment you sat on the fluffy bed and just took in everything. God was so good to you right now and honestly you thanked him. Although it frustrates you to think that this would only last for a second and you’d be back on the streets, roaming around. Yeah yeah, Hizashi wants to help you but you knew soon he’d get tired of your presence in his house…..they all did.

-Taking a deep breath, you went to go meet hizashi in the dining room.

-He welcomed you then motioned you to sit down at any of the seats at the table. “Oh hey, there’s miss america. You may sit anywhere you’d like. And help yourself to the food here.”

-You sat down across from him, only not to look at him just to have your eyes on the empty plate in front of you. You didn’t really touch any of the food actually or even make a sound. You weren’t trying to be rude or anything, you just..there was a lot on your mind and facing hizashi seemed difficult.

-”Are you okay Y/N? I hope sushi is okay. I- i meant to um ask what you would like to eat first. I’m sorry.”

-”No I’m sorry for-,” twiddling your thumbs for a moment you then looked towards the blonde fellow “Mr.Hizashi..My parents left when I was around three but they left me with my aunt. She was a very good person and took good care of me but she got very ill...and um you know. At first I was living in her apartment but i couldn’t pay for it when it was time for rent so..I stayed with my friend for a couple of months. But her parents kind of got tired of me staying there and it was this thing, so I lied and told them I found a family member to stay with. And um up until now I've been staying on the streets. Sometimes having a sleepover once every so often.”

-”Y/n…”

-”I didn’t tell you because I was so scared… I didn't know what to do and I really really don’t want to go in foster care or anything so I just thought I was better off keeping it from you. But I guess it backfired anyways because you still found out haha….I’m sorry Hizashi. I hope you don’t think of me any less. I- it was a tough situation and all and you know how that is...”

-He immeadately stood up, walked over to you and hugged you. It was with So mUcH compassion and genuine love. You really was his favorite student no scratch that HIS FAVORITE HUMAN i swear he would end the world for you.

-He gave you a little cheek kiss and was like “I’m not letting anyone put you in foster care and I'm sure as hell am not kicking you out even if i have to take custody of you.”

-”w-wait what? wAiT wHaT???”

-”KID IM fucking keeping you here safe with me even if i’m in court all year. We are going to make this work somehow, you aren’t doing this alone anymore. Do you understand?”

-YeAh hEs cRyInG iM cRyinG yOuRe CryInG wE aLl CryinG

-BRO YOU ARE UGLY CRYING NOT NO SOFT CUTE CRY LIKE HAHA YOU SOUND LIKE A WALRUS TRYING TO SAY ‘t-tH-Th-HaNKy-yyy-YoUUU-UOi mR hIzZaShIiIi”

-He whipes the tears of your cheeks and ruffles your hair

-”it’ll be okay Y/N, I promise.”

-I swear he’s like rushing to the computer and trying to figure out how to adopt you.

-”HoW tO aDoPt a ChILD wHen You aRe a hEro.”

-There's an actual wiki-how about it???????

-No but he’s really doing his research and is visiting lawyers trying to find the right one. He has them immediately looking into everything and making sure that his chances of getting you is as high as possible.

-He’s up late at night on the phone, emailing, and writing

-He has pounds and pounds of evidence that he is the most fit person to take care of you. He is not playing whatsoever

-He already let’s you decorate and he even gives you an office so you can do work or whatever. He most definitely brought you clothes and stuff for your room.

-When the courts and everything finally approves it after a long year of fighting, he picked you up and spun you around.

-”What did I tell you?!? I was not going to lose you and i made sure of that. And starting today and the rest of forever you’ll never have to be alone.”

-BonUs

-100% takes you out somewhere super fun and nice.

-”Wait we must take a selfie, The first day we are legally Father-daughter!”

-The most chaotic duo now, Everyone at school knows he adopted you and like he won't let anyone forget it.

-MISSSSSS AMERICAAAAAAA, is now, MISSSSSSS HIZAAAAASSSHHHHHIIIIIIII.

-”WHEEEEERRREEEE ISSS MYYYY LITTLE MUSHROOM???”

-”YYYYYY/NNNNN YOU LEFT YOUR BAG IN MY MINIVAN.”

-He has a minivan now. It also has a ‘Yeah I’m a soccer dad and i’m proud’ sticker on it.

-He joined the PTA

-HE IS SOOO BIASED I SWEAR NO ONE IS ABOVE YOU IN HIS CLASS AND NO ONE BETTER SAY ANYTHING ABOUT IT

-Always hugging you and giving you little cheek kisses when he sees you in the halls

-Made a titled track called “Now a dad”

-he most definitely wears ‘Best Dad’ shirts now. He also is in a ‘Single dad’s in Japan’ group now

-”I think we look just alike, Don’t we Y/N?” you both smiled and posed at the same time

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onepdumpsterfire · 4 years

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Summary: Usopp moves to the city after a year since his mom died in a way to feel closer to her. There he looks for a roommate and finds none other than Zoro himself. what fate has in store for them is left for a later date lol

Roommates

Usopp . Zoro

It’s been almost a year since my mom died. She’s been sick for a long time, so I knew this was coming for some time now.

Even so, knowing didn’t stop it from hurting just as much.

Since her funeral, all I’ve done is coop myself up in our house. I’d probably turn into a hermit if it weren’t for my neighbor, Kaya. She came around whenever she had the chance.

That was nice of her considering what she has been going through…

But the more she worried about me, the guiltier I felt.

I know that she can't help but take care of people. Hell, It's why she’s been studying pharmaceutics, but I also know she can do so much more with her life. She could be some big-city doctor or researching to cure cancer!

Wouldn’t that be so much cooler than being stuck in a no-name city, too small to even afford more than the one clinic it has?

In any event, that’s only one of the reasons why I’ve decided to move away for a while. I think some time out of this house would do me some good.

The city that I’m moving to isn’t all that big and a bit further than I’d like it to be, but that’s the point of moving, right?

One way or another, I chose this city because my mom fell in love with it. She used to tell me about how, when she was young, she used to travel all over! She’d seen it all. Every tourist attraction and big-name city, but there was something about this city that just took her breath away. She told me that this place managed to calm her need to be constantly moving. This is also where she got pregnant with me then later she moved back to where she was raised and had me.

As much as she loved it there, she wanted me to go out on my own and find a place that would ‘sate my most wild urges and fuel my deepest desires,’ as cheese-ly as she put it.

At first, I thought she was joking.

I thought that she only liked that place because it’s where she met dad… It’s also why I hated this city.

My father was a coward that ran away as soon as my mom got sick. Though, she never blamed him for it. I never got to as her why, though. Years later, I did ask her if I was right. That she only romanticized this place because she fell in love there. However, she told me that he was only part of the reason why she loved this city so much, and that if I didn’t believe her then I should go find the depth of this city for myself.

I debated with myself for the longest time. Whether this was the right choice, or if I was ready to set foot in the place I used to loath so much. But being here now, I feel so much smaller than I thought I was. I’m nowhere near the heart of the city, but the sheer enormity for this place makes it feel like it’s trying to swallow me whole.

Sure, back home we had a lot of open fields and the horizon was always noticeable, but here the buildings towered over everything. It felt like a tsunami that threatened impact but never collided. The horizon was replaced by millions of stars that fell from the sky and sat just out of reach so that if you got too close thy’d turn into someone else’s day. Someone’s life.

There are so many people here that It almost made it feel lonely. Being surrounded by so many lives yet being so far from them. A mirage in a desert, one could call it. It promises life, but the closer you get the more you realize you could never get close enough.

I guess I was too much of a coward to be as alone as I felt when I first stepped foot here, though, I’ll keep telling myself it’s because the apartments here are too pricey and I only managed to land a job as a gas station attendant. Nevertheless now I’m sitting on the first floor of a fully furnished two-bedroom apartment checking a roommate wanted ad I posted earlier this week.

So far there have been only two people who wanted to move around this area, but one ghosted me after a few messages and the other ended up creeping me out so much that I had to report his account! I just hope the last person that answered my ad isn’t as much of a weirdo as the previous two.

They seem to be a bit curt, but I shouldn’t get too picky. Rent for next month is gonna be due soon, and there is barely anyone who wants to live near this area as is!

I’m sure that they’re nicer in person! I shouldn’t worry. It’s just two days.

Two days.

-2 days later. Thursday 2:30 pm -

When I arrive at the coffee shop, I walk straight to the back of the line. It isn’t that long and I’ve got here thirty minutes early, so I should have time for a drink before they get here.

Should I get something for them too? No, that’d be weird, and it would probably get cold by the time they get here.

The person in front of the line leaves and we all step forward.

Shit.

Someone arrives and lines up behind me.

I didn’t ask for their name! I don’t even know if they’re a boy or a girl!

The next person leaves and we take another step forward.

Is it too late to ask? Would it be weird if I did?

Another step forward

What if they’re a girl? Would they feel uncomfortable living with a guy?

“-ir?”

I did put on the ad I was a dude though…

“-cuse me, sir?”

“Huh?” The barista’s voice brings me back to earth. “Oh, sorry!”

“It’s okay!” her chipper voice rung out, “could you repeat your order? I didn’t quite catch it.”

“O-oh, sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to talk out loud. I was lost in thought, I guess... haha ...” I looked up to their hanging menu, more so to look away from her than to figure out what I wanted.

After putting in my order I take a seat at the very back.

Ten minutes later my drink was ready and my anxiety was rising again.

What if they don’t come?

Five minutes later and I sent them a message to let them know I’m here.

Maybe I could’ve phrased it better?

That sounded weird…?

God, is that a typo?

five minutes later

They haven’t answered, but that’s okay! It’s only been five minutes. Can’t expect them to be by their phone 24/7 right?

I’ll play some games on my phone to distract myself. Yeah, that’ll be fine. It’s fine.

I take a big gulp from my drink

I downloaded that new game. My hopes aren’t high for it, though. I found it via a random Facebook ad. Hopefully, it’s not one of those scams that say 90% of people can’t pass level five, but it’s only ‘cus no one lasts long enough to get to level five.

Hmmm… it seems plays well. A bit of a lag but the graphics are awesome! The old-style, pixelated art and bright, neon, solid colors give it a very retro vibe. The ads between levels kind of ruin the experience, though.

Guess they gotta make money somehow, right?

I wonder if they’ll go away if I turn off my data and Wi-Fi.

I shouldn’t just in case the person I’m meeting tries to reach me.

Could be fine for a round or two, though, I’d anxiously suffer through all of it.

I shouldn’t just in-

A sudden scraping sound from the chair opposite of me jolts me from my hypnotic state. “Hey,” a green-haired man in front of me mutteres before taking the seat he pulled out.

Taking in his form as he makes himself comfortable, my mind begins to race. Green dyed hair with roots of black hair showing. Fitted, sleeveless Nike shirt and black basketball shorts paired with a white pair of sneakers.

Oh, god. What’s with the green hair? He looks super buffed. Am I about to be mugged? No, that’s stupid. He wouldn’t have sat- in a cafe, really?

I quickly glance down at my phone for the time.

Exactly 3. Is he super punctual? More than likely a fluke, but impressive nonetheless. What if he’s a perfectionist?

My thoughts continue to swarm around my head, buzzing in an insatiable mob until a humming silence washes over me. Like one of those box televisions from back in the day. Not broadcasting anything in particular, stuck on a blue screen, droning on in silence.

The sudden stillness in my thoughts came so abruptly that it almost gave me whiplash. That aside, I need to focus now and answer him.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t ask for your name-” I left my statement open so that he could fill in the blank“-Zoro”

“R-right, Zoro. My name’s Usopp,” I waved my hands like the gesticulation would somehow help my words form into a coherent sentence, “but you probably already knew that from my ad... Hah..” I gave a quick huff before pushing through my awkward inexperience with ‘interviews’. “I was thinking we could talk and get to know each other before I take you to see the apartment.”

“That’s fine by me,” Zoro relaxed further in his seat. “What do you wanna know?”

Right at home, ain’t he.

~Do you smoke? “No”

~Are you a messy person? “I don't have a lot of things other than clothes.”

Doesn't quite answer the question but ill take it.

~Do you have friends over often? “No”

~What do you do for a living? “I’m a bouncer at a bar near here.”

Explains the muscle.

~Can you pay rent on time? “Yes, actually I brought the first month’s with me. Your ad said that split cost between the both of us plus the utilities would be $487 right?” Zoro dug around his pocket before pulling out a folded wad of cash and handing it to me.

“U-uh yeah,” tentatively I reach over to take the money. “Yeah...” I doubt I can find someone else by the end of the month. Zoro’s my safest bet at getting a roommate before next rent's due. He doesn’t seem so bad, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.

...I guess this means there’s only one more question to ask.

“Do you wanna see the apartment?”

#modernlivingau #one piece #one piece zoro #Pirate Hunter Zoro #roronoa zoro #one piece usopp #god usopp #one piece kaya

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paradise-of-guilty-pleasures · 4 years

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Shattered Reflections {23}

[Helsa RP- Fanfic]

Fandom: Frozen

Genre: Post-Frozen/ Canon Divergence

- Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance

Pairing(s): Hans/Elsa, Kristoff/Anna

Previous Chapter: 22. Waltz of the Snowflakes

23. Cordially Invited

Elsa overslept after her long evening, but she'd still got up well before Anna started stirring out of her slumber. Oversleeping to Elsa only meant she'd gotten up at a more sensible hour, closer to when normal people (and not extra early birds, such as herself) tended to awaken. Her mind not shutting off right away once she'd gone to bed really took a toll and the price was more sleep, how tragic. Perhaps Anna would have been able to do her hair after all, if she only allowed herself to sleep in, for real. She smiled a little, gazing in the vanity mirror as she brushed and put her hair back in her usual braid, remembering the compliments she'd gotten.

Soon she was off on her normal routine even if she had started a tad bit later than usual. Her workload seemed quite manageable that day. As lunchtime started rolling around, Elsa started thinking of possibly having a tea time with Hans that afternoon. Sure, it was imprudent, especially considering the late night they just had, but she was eager to spend more time together if they were both able. She was eager, but perhaps not dauntless enough to go ask him directly, maybe being a bit nervous to face him now that he was more sobered up. So she decided to send him an invitation, yes it might have been overly formal, but sending him a written request put her more at ease (particularly for the off chance he would decline instead). He was to receive the invitation along with his lunch, and Elsa would have to wait until tea time to see if he would join her, which was a bit suspenseful, she of course would be a disappointed if he didn't show (but probably not as much if he'd told her), but she'd given him the option of not coming if he was unable as well.

Hans was also an early bird, now too beset by the idea of waking up at a reasonable hour. He still slept in a little later than Elsa, but for his part, he had little to do but sleep, much to his eternal vexation. The invitation was a surprise, but a pleasant one. He thought it was terribly cute that she wrote it all out formally. She could've easily sent someone to just ask, it wasn't as if they were a mile apart, but she had opted for a formal letter. He was half-tempted to be cheeky and write a formal acceptance back, but suspected she would miss the humor in it. Instead, he opted to wear some of his nicer clothes -still quite ordinary, as he did still have his prison clothes, but some of the ones with the bloodstains best washed out- and appear there when tea time arrived, on the dot. He had little better to do than be punctual, and as a Navy man, punctuality was important. more so than uniforms, at any rate.

"Good afternoon, your Majesty. Or is tea time when we switch to 'good evening'?" He asked with a smile, just being sweet and light.

At the sound of Hans' voice resonating through the room, Elsa turned to look at him. She had previously been playing around with the table spread trying to make it look just right, she could be a bit obsessive when it comes to being orderly. Seeing him more dressed up than she'd become accustomed to, caught her by surprise, she hadn't seen like that since he'd first arrived, not that she was complaining.

"Oh, good afternoon," she greeted with a smile. "Glad you were able to join me."

"Of course. I made room in my busy schedule of 'nothing much to do' just for this." He assured, with a playful smile. "Tea in the music room perhaps, then? So I can play for you?" The tone of a servant, though given with what was perhaps a knowing smile. He suspected she might've liked him. He didn't think he was deserving of it, part of him wanted to warn her away from it, but he couldn't deny that it felt nice to be liked. He hadn't decided yet how to feel about the whole thing.

"Sounds like you really had to clear your schedule just to make it," she lightly laughed. "Yes, of course, but please do have some tea first,"she offered, signaling with her arm that he should take a seat at the already arranged table, she didn't want him to just play for her the whole time.

"As you please." He hummed, settling where she gestured and moving to pour the tea. He was a gentleman, and a Navy man. In a way, he was used to service. It was a small gesture, but not one that one might expect of a prince, let alone the one once accused of Treason. The silence was unusual, but amicable. Hans didn't want to be the one to break it, when tea warranted a bit of thoughtful introspection and quiet contemplation.

Elsa was used to silence while she sipped tea in solitude, yet with Hans there it somehow felt unbearable, even if it was rather nice just to have him there, she had to break the ice. Starting conversations wasn't her forte, but she gave it a try just to get him talking. She needed to think about a topic, of course she could ask about the weather but that was so drab, she had to come up with something better. Think Elsa, think. She looked around the room. That's it! Instruments. She could ask what instruments the rest of the Princes of the Isles had taken up, but then she didn't like being the one to bring up his brothers or the Isles, she still only felt comfortable asking when he was the one opening up to talk about that subject.

"So, when did you start learning to play the harp?" she asked instead, she didn't know the answer despite them talking about his ability to play the harp countless times.

Hans had to think about it a bit. "Oh, when I was young I suppose, maybe around my early teenage years? Those were difficult, but Gregory plays piano, and makes music his life, so he taught me." Hans seemed to detect Elsa's discomfort with the silence, and opted to go on. "He married a singer, Katharina. Sweet girl, never heard her say an unkind thing, and that is an accomplishment, living with the family. Gregory is a good man, all kindness and passion for music. His response to terminal illness was to opt out of any crown business and focus solely on music. The castle would be a miserable place without it." He didn't mind talking about the good parts of his family. If asked in good faith, he wouldn't mind talking about the bad parts, either.

"That's sweet, it's awful that your brother is ill, but it sounds like he's making the best of it by surrounding himself by things he loves." Elsa didn't know how else to respond. It was bittersweet. It was nice to hear that one of Hans' brother's was the one that taught him.

"He is, and filling the castle with music. A number of us learned some instrument or other, so I chose the Harp. In a family full of men, even Eduard was shy of choosing a feminine instrument. He's changed a lot since then, of course, but I wanted something unique, so I picked the Harp. It's a background instrument, something no-one but the player truly pays attention to on most occasions. Exactly the sort of role I wanted in the house: unnoticed." He explained simply. "My brothers harassed me for all sorts of things already, adding one more was meaningless, and by that point I was learning to withstand them. Not well enough, but I made it through my teenage years." With the help of some other brothers cutting him down, but she didn't need to know the details of that venture. The harp was much more harmless, better to talk about that.

Unique but unnoticed, sounded a bit like a contradiction. Elsa let out a groan at the mention of him being tormented by some of his brothers, it was always upsetting to hear that his own family was purposely callous towards him.

"Hopefully, you don't mind being noticed playing for me." He would not be obscured in the background playing for her, instead he would be the focal point of her attention.

"I don't mind being noticed here. Unless it's by Anna, I'd sooner she forget I was here at all. But for you, I don't mind being noticed." He assured her gently. He cringed a little. "When I say it all out loud it sounds much worse, doesn't it?" He admitted with a weak chuckle. "Many of my brothers are sweet or largely inoffensive. Most of my 'tormenting' was sibling teasing. A few bad apples made my life a bit rough, though statistically the number is higher than I'd like." He assured, apparently trying to comfort her with the idea that not all of his childhood was awful. It was, he just didn't realize he deserved his traumas.

Elsa shrugged a little at his question, she truly didn't mind either.

"Having only one sibling it's hard for me to truly understand, but I don't know what I would have done if I didn't have a sister as loving as Anna."

"I would suggest that being alone would've been much more unbearable without knowing there was someone on the outside missing you. It's a sharper pain, but I've found that while sharp cuts hurt more in the moment, they do less damage overall than significant blunt pains." It was probably for the best if he didn't expound on his knowledge of that.

"I suppose," she answered with a nod as she took another sip of her tea. Their conversation seemed to have gone gloomy without delay, but that wasn't new, it seemed to be a common occurrence with the two of them. Thinking of a way to try to brighten it up proved rather difficult for Elsa since starting and keeping a conversation going was already a challenge for her.

Hans, by contrast, seemed perfectly comfortable with both the quiet and with the gloomy turn. He lived mired in it, so being able to talk about the gloomy things may have actually been a bit of a good sign. They were comfortable, and could unload on each-other all the dark things that bothered them-- if they trusted each-other with that.

"Hmm, sorry. I didn't mean to bring up anything dark. It's a bit how my mind works, I think. I don't think it's always a bad thing, to reflect on bad things. We just have to watch that it doesn't overtake us. The seas are allowed to be a little edgy, so long as we don't sail directly into a maelstrom." He would bring it back to sailing, somehow.

"Oh, don't be. My mind tends to go down that path as well. I don't mind talking about that stuff, I'm just so used to changing the subject before it gets too dark because I don't feel I can really talk to Anna about some of these things."

"Well, thankfully for me, I'm not Anna or I'd have to be even angrier with myself. You're welcome to talk about the dark things with me. Lord knows I do it enough, but I suppose I only talk about the darker things here because you actually seem to take an interest." And express sympathy, rather than telling him to man up or get over it. She didn't need to know that part.

"Of course, I like to listen. I think it helps me understand you a bit better," she assured.

"For better or worse, hm?" He suggested with amusement. He meant it as a joke about how it might not be a good thing to understand him better. He didn't think about the line as also being used in wedding vows, and it was probably best not to read into it. "Well, is there anything you'd like to know about me? While we're being chatty and talking about dark things, may as well."

Anything? Everything, if she was being honest. She had countless questions, but that moment being put on the spot she couldn't think of any. What could she ask him that she was most curious to know.

"Hmm." She paused and pondered. She could really ask him anything, yet her mind was blank. Then she thought of something she was still in the dark about. She seemed to have gotten a better understanding of the relationship he had with his brothers when he described them to her but she still didn't know much about his parents. What she gathered from previous conversations was that Hans thought of his father as a good man, but he was unfortunately ill and his mother seemed to be a different story; he seemed to hold some rancor towards her. She wondered if it was a can of worms she was really wanting to open.

"Um, I think I would like to know more about your relationship with your parents, so I can get a better idea of what they're like --like I did when you talked about your brothers-- Of course you don't have to answer if it's too personal." She asked somewhat nervously, thinking she might have overstepped the boundary. She really could have asked him absolutely anything and yet that's what came to mind.

Hans shrugged a little, as much a gesture of opening his hand as it was with his shoulders, he was willing to give up that knowledge if she was willing to ask for it.

"My mother was an actress, and in many ways, still is. I'm sure I'll never know what father saw in her aside from her beauty. She is quite beautiful, and a talented actress, but unfortunately she is also a horribly neglectful mother, and prone to the 'man up and make something of yourself' school of parenting. 'Westergaards are lions, not mice' she would say, and we would all casually overlook the fact that she's only one by marriage, so what would she bloody well know about it?" He shook his head a little.

"She's the type to tell the people that she loves all her children, but she never learned sign language for Bernhard, and that, I think, tells you all you need to know about her. Though I'll be happy to talk about what a terrible mother she is all day if you're interested." He certainly pulled no punches, there. "My father, on the other hand, has always been loving and supportive. Gerard took after him splendidly; all integrity, loyalty, and honor. I only pray that Gerard didn't also inherit his poor health."

Ouch, that was harsh, both how Hans saw her and how she treated her children, though it wasn't far off from what she'd deduced. She didn't know how to respond, but she asked in the first place. Elsa almost wanted to apologize, but refrained herself for doing so, because he would only tell her it was not her fault, which was true.

"You're welcome to talk about it whenever you want, I'll listen," she offered, with sincerity. Though now might not have been the best time to spend all day talking about it, souring their tea time with bitter memories.

"I don't think of when I want to do things, generally. Remember, I'm a mirror. Who do you think I got that from?" His mother, of course. The actor took after the actress. "I do what people approve of. I want to be approved, that's how I am. When left to my own devices, I try to avoid notice and be as unremarked as possible, usually. At least in the Navy I had a role, it was whatever my rank said I was. To be approved of I simply had to do my job. That was easy. Fools tell stories and jokes as long as they have an audience, guards protect and train and are ready to defend a kingdom, prisoners need only to sit in a cell and be repentant. Jobs are easy. Being a prince is damned near impossible. At least where I'm from." It was a novel way to think of it, and one he had never really put to words before. As long as he had a job, a role, an identity, he could be. When he didn't, he tried not to be at all, because then all he was left with was 'mirror'.

He kept saying that he was nothing but a mirror, yet Elsa didn't fully believe it herself, she firmly felt there was something more. Yes, he was excessively adaptable trying to seek validation, but she didn't think he was reflecting 'what people wanted' without reflecting a bit of himself as well. Though perhaps the problem was he failed to realize he even had a reflection. He lost himself playing the parts, yet that didn't mean people didn't recognize the actor in the role. In actuality, she saw him more as a man trapped in a mirror instead of being the mirror himself, and because of that he was unable to see his own reflection. Elsa wanted to state something similar to her speculation out loud, but no words came out, instead she remained silent and sipped her tea.

"Hm, the more time I spent telling you I don't talk about my issues, the more time I spend talking about my issues." Hans admitted, after a long and awkward silence. He couldn't help but smile sheepishly over his tea, while he shut up and drank a bit. "What can I say? You bring the truth out of me, whether I want it or not. And maybe deep down I do." What an odd thought, yet it seemed true. He wanted to talk to her about things, and hear what she did -or didn't- have to say about it.

"I'm glad to hear that," Elsa smiled with an audible hum, she was indeed flattered that he was willing to open up to her, and certainly more than happy to listen. Her beaming blue eyes jumped from her tea cup to Hans and back again.

He wondered a moment if she had wanted to say something. He certainly didn't mind as the quiet settled in again, this time more peacefully.

"I wonder how it is, that my kingdom has all the sun, but yours is somehow brighter?" He mused. It was just a general 'feeling' of brighter and lightness. Maybe it was just her. "Our land is warmer, but yours has the warmth, as it were." And it was true, Arendelle was -at least socially- warmer.

"Hm, you really think so?" She questioned with curiosity. She hadn't known much about how things were outside her own home so it was hard for her to compare. "How else would you say the Isles really differ from Arendelle? As a place I mean."

"Our humor is darker, we're a little less... I'm not sure. I want to say 'we're less kind', though I'm not sure how to justify that accusation. More, we have different philosophies about the world, I think, and Arendelle's is lighter and sweeter. Of course, the majority of my exposure to the Isles is through the castle. It's possible the town is nothing like that and my expectations are just colored." He shrugged. "My perspective is certainly much darker than most. But then, the Isles still has corporal punishment, so I think it's probably justified to say that we're much darker." It was just a fact, as he knew it. It was less frequently used than it had once been, but it was still there.

Elsa nodded along. Perspective was a fickle thing, experience really could mold the outlook someone held about something, be it a place or a person. Elsa would have never imagined that her perspective of Hans would ever alter, yet here they were, an unlikely pair having tea together. Naturally it would have never happened without Elsa allowing herself the opportunity to try get to know him better.

"You know I used to wonder...and worry, whether or not I could maintain Arendelle’s prosperity as Queen. That's still certainly on my mind, but it was more prevalent before my ascension, back when I was planning to keep the gates closed." She remembered, with the talk about their homelands. "I'm truly grateful that the gates are now open, I'm sure the people are too and find it more pleasant, than having an ominous Queen ruling them from behind a closed gate. I really am blessed to be able to see, feel and enjoy Arendelle's happiness myself."

Hans nodded thoughtfully. "In spite of everything that happened, I'm... glad that whatever awful things happened, I ended up here, at this moment. I certainly wouldn't want to repeat past events if it could be helped, but, being here now is nice. It's certainly better than I expected would happen after those events." Not quite what he had hoped or planned for before them, but hopes and plans of 'then' were meaningless now. Now he was just happy that Elsa seemed to have forgiven him. "Do you think Anna will forgive and forget? Or, at least, forgive? I wouldn't be surprised nor offended if she didn't, but I'm curious about your perspective."

Elsa pursed her lips like she usually did when she pondered.

"I really don't know to be honest. I want to say yes, maybe someday, because Anna is the kindest, most loving and forgiving person I know...but she's still hurt and I don't know when or if that will ever heal," she offered her insight. "I don't know if forgiveness will come for sure, but there's hope for a compromise."

Hans nodded thoughtfully. "It's a difficult proposition, I know." He thought about the cold dismissal in Anna's voice when she said 'I have no use for you'. It was something he should have expected, yet it still knotted his stomach to think about. He gritted his teeth a little and refocused on his tea, taking a sip and trying to re-center himself on something nicer.

"So, ah, anything else you'd like to know about me or my family? Working on a ship, foreign lands, anything?" Questions. Anything to prompt him to think of something else. He didn't look at her when he said it, he was staring off at nothing, the corner moulding on the far wall by the rug. He wasn't really looking at it, but trying to wrestle himself away from his thoughts.

Elsa noticed the subtle change in his demeanor. It was clear he wanted to change the subject, but she forgot to tell him something and perhaps it would have been better if she had started off with it.

"You know last night Anna told me it was perhaps good that you were here and that we could learn something important," she mentioned.

Elsa remembered she never did get the chance to tell Hans that Anna had a habit of hitting a person's weak spots without knowing it, like Kristoff had suggested after their confrontation, so it was likely he was taking the idea of being seen as 'useless' by Anna to heart ever since then. She didn't know if her words would help any, but she was at least putting them out there.

Hans tilted his head a little, curiously. "Oh?" He sounded very puzzled by that thought. "And what on earth could be learned from this, for you?" Yet even as he asked, some part of him started filling in answers. "She thinks it might be good that I'm... well, I did help with the invasion." He admitted with a shrug. Indeed, he had helped to turn the tide of it, he just didn't realize how vital he had been, yet. To say nothing of re-training the guard staff.

"Hm? Yes, she recognized that you helped stop the raid."Elsa nodded, and added." I don't know what we would have done without you.

Hans blinked, perplexed by the thought. He knew it, yes, but it was different to hear it out loud. It seemed his mind was bound and determined that he should hate himself, so evidence that he shouldn't was slow to process.

"I'm still perplexed that Weselton tried at all, that's a hangable offense in the Isles, starting wars against other nations. Especially with me here. My brother would never have authorized an attempted coup, let alone knowing I was here." He got lost on that thought a moment, almost forgetting to acknowledge his own help. "I suppose... The coup would have been successful. Or at least, more successful than would matter otherwise. I can't imagine..." But he could, all too well. He knew what sword-hacked necks looked like, and he trembled to think about the blood in the grand hall.

"Forgive me, my imagination just ran away with me in an awful way. I think I know what will feature in my nightmares now." He had them all too frequently, but nightmares were normal to him.

"Let's think of something more pleasant than that battle. Olaf seems to have figured out who I am, and he's taking it well. Your little snow-prince has quite charmed me." Hans admitted, putting on a pleasant tone as he tried to find something as far removed from blood and gore as he could drag it.

"Oh, he has? It makes sense he would have figured it out by now, I didn't know how to tell him myself. The only reason I didn't want him to know in the first place was to keep him from telling Anna, because as you know, he is a rather chatty snowman," She assured. "It was rather pointless considering what happened next, yet it did make you 'Hans the Fool' which both of you seem to enjoy, so some good came out of it, I suppose," Elsa smiled, remembering how entranced they'd been when Hans told his story.

"Olaf is an embodiment of excitement, so I'm not surprised he's taken a liking to you especially considering you enjoy indulging him, which the rest of us aren't always able to do. I'm glad you've taken a liking to him as well. I'm sure he's ecstatic to have found himself a kindred spirit." She noted. "Though why do you keep calling him my 'little snow-prince'?" It was admittedly a rather cute nickname, but did Hans actually believe Olaf was next in line to the throne because he saw Olaf as her magic snow child. She didn't know how she felt about that, even if it was just another jest.

Hans chuckled a little. "Because the first thing I asked was 'is he in line for the crown', and I noticed you never actually answered that question." Hans laughed into his hand, a little impish again. "I know he's probably not, because that would be a clerical nightmare, but it's a very cute thought and I can't help but find it endearing. He is very much like a child, so I rather want to treat him like one." That said some pleasant things about Hans, and how he spoke to children, at least. "Excitement and adventure do go along delightfully well, perhaps that's why we get on. I've built my life around a yearning for adventure, and the excitement that goes with that feeds stories."

"I think I might have missed the question entirely, because my mind was certainly preoccupied about other things when Olaf entered," She admitted. "Oh, he’s definitely not in line, though I will admit it's an endearing idea. But could you even imagine? Just thinking about it is giving me a headache, Arendelle being ruled by a living snowman, but certainly another interesting read for the history books, for sure. No offense to Olaf, but I don't think he's cut out to be king, it would certainly bore him to death," she lightly snickered, shaking her head at the silly notion. "Though it makes me wonder if he would disappear if I-" she brushed that thought away with a jerk of her head "... it's probably best not think too deeply about this silly little 'what if'."

"Perhaps you could accompany Olaf on a little adventure around Arendelle someday, I'm sure Olaf would appreciate it, he's always eager to do anything to quench his infinite boredom, and you could always tell me the story of your quest afterwards," she suggested with a smile. It was a silly little idea, but she was sure the two childish boys would enjoy it.

Hans gave a slightly strained smile. "No, probably best not." He agreed, because he knew what the 'what if' was, too.

"There's a nice thought. Maybe I'll give us a task the next time he's annoying you and Anna, and I'll 'babysit' the snowman. What else is a fool good for, if not entertaining the children?" He smiled a little, impishly, as if daring her to argue that he wasn't the fool or shouldn't boil himself down like that. "Perhaps that would be a fun children's story on its own, the snow-king, all about a snowman king in a world full of human kings. What a funny thought. I can't imagine him being adult enough to wear a crown, let alone use its power."

"Hm. That's not exactly how I was envisioning it," she bobbed her head a bit. "I was thinking something more for the fun of it, I thought you'd enjoy exploring together as friends, instead as a nanny watching over a child," she shrugged. "Oh, and fools are good for far greater things, but seem to be too stubborn to see it." She glanced at him with a half smile before taking to another sip of her tea.

"I really can't imagine Olaf ever really growing up, perhaps growing a little wiser, but magical snowmen don't really age like people so it's really hard to know." She shrugged again." And yes, the snow-king does sound like it'd make rather an interesting story," she agreed. "Maybe another story you can tell Olaf sometime... and perhaps me too." she added a bit shyly. "I do enjoy listening to your stories, fact or fiction, you make them so vivid and immersive. You really are a great storyteller you know, ever consider writing one?"

"Oh it would still be a friendly adventure. But when else do I leave the castle, but when I have a task?" He was task-driven, it seemed, and perhaps he too was only just noticing that fact. "I used to write, but I would always burn the pages, remember?" He remarked, perhaps a bit more quietly. The only examples of his handwriting that he knew of, unbeknownst to him, were locked in her desk drawer. "I don't like to share thoughts I've written. To me they always carry the threat of being evidence to some unknown failure. Sooner or later someone will find it out and confront me with it." It was so petty, but that was his life in the Isles. Constantly picked apart by petty quibbles.

"Oh, right, sorry," she said softly with a somber sigh. She hadn't forgotten, she just didn't think he would still worry about that anymore.

"It's one of those things you don't want to draw attention to yourself over...but I really don't think anyone would hold it against you here, in Arendelle at least, especially not with something as innocent as sharing a story. From what I got to read, you are quite a riveting writer, I'm sure people would approve and..." she paused, realizing her knack was probably kicking in, she frowned a little bit to herself, her tone turned more apologetic. "...pay me no mind, it was just a silly idea." Her bottom lip curled underneath the top one as she stared down into her tea cup. It was disheartening that he still believed he'd get reprimanded for expressing himself that way. He should be feel free to write without the looming fear of some unforeseen failure, over something so trivial. He wrote so eloquently in her eyes, a bit of a shame it was something he wasn't willing to share with others, because she believed they would enjoy reading his storytelling.

Hans looked curious. "No, go on? You rarely say so much, you must be passionate about the subject. I'm humbled to think that the subject would be my writing, of all things." He seemed quietly proud, and very humbled by the idea. "What are fools good for, if not silly ideas?"

Elsa lifted her gaze. "Oh, uh all I was really going to say was that I think people would enjoy reading your writing, but if you didn't want to bring attention to yourself, you could always share anonymously or using some alias," she suggested a bit sheepishly.

Hans smiled a bit at that. "Not a bad thought, I suppose." He admitted gently. "I'll consider it, at least. It would be nice to see if people enjoy my stories." He sounded humble, maybe even shy of the prospect.

Elsa smiled faintly, her eyes softening. She was happy he would at least consider it, that felt like an accomplishment to her.

He shifted, almost uncomfortably, but he was still smiling.

"Never be afraid to voice your thoughts in your own kingdom, your Majesty. You're the Queen. Your opinion is the correct opinion, or at the very least the one that matters the most in most conversations you'll ever have here. It's okay to be confident now and then."

Hans' formality got her out of her head, breaking the gaze she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She was definitely more confident when it came to giving her opinions on actual official matters as Queen, but for whatever reason when it came to more casual interactions with people (which were only a few) she definitely became more diffident. Perhaps because during those more personal times she tended to momentarily forget she was Queen and ended up behaving more like a normal person, which she really didn't have much experience in, so of course she was a little more awkward.

"Yes, of course," she said in a more serious tone, her gaze fixed on the far wall. She was perhaps a little embarrassed of being reminded.

Hans pondered her a moment, noting that she seemed difficult to jar from her thoughts.

"Of course, you're a human, too." He pointed out, gently. "I've heard it said that part of a fool's job is to remind kings that they, too, are men. You're a human, you're allowed to make mistakes, and to be without poise once in a while. It's a difficult thing for royals to learn. We spend so much time learning how to be perfect, that it's hard to remember that we aren't, and never will be. That's part of why I tried to get the hell out of the castle when I got the chance. I was always trying to raft away from the island as a boy, there was a standing order for years that if anyone saw a raft in the water they were meant to look for me and make sure I didn't end up drowning somewhere. Funny enough, I ended up nearly drowning far more often as a Navy man." He transitioned seamlessly from gentle coaxing her out of her reveries into amusing childhood tales, just to try and cheer her. He was good at being a Fool.

She returned her gaze to him. "How many times have you almost drowned? I think you've only told me about the sirens."

It was probably not the part she was supposed to retain out of what he'd been saying, but it was the one that piqued her curiosity.

He thought about it and shrugged. "Not really something I keep track of, honestly. Are we only counting times we've been resuscitated? If so, then never, but only barely. But if we're talking about nearly passing out, it happens with fair regularity for various reasons. Usually me trying to be clever, is the root cause of it. And I am, but it has the side-effect of nearly killing me in the process." He laughed a little at that. "I'm not afraid of drowning, it's the coming back that hurts. I've never had to be resuscitated, but choking on inhaled seawater is never a fun experience."

"I can only imagine," Elsa replied pithily with a slight shiver and perhaps somewhat more withdrawn than before. She had innocently asked the question out of what she assumed to be pure curiosity, yet perhaps there was more to why that topic had specifically caught her attention, and she just hadn't realized it right away. She seemed to have started slipping into her daze once Hans mentioned that he wasn't afraid of drowning.

Hans noticed her slipping. It seemed to be happening a lot, that day. Usually that was his job. He stood, and moved to sit directly next to her, whereupon he offered her his hand. "Something is troubling you, my lady. A pence for your thoughts?" He asked, gently. "You're dwelling on death, I know the feeling."

Elsa's eyes followed him as Hans made his way to sit beside her. How did he always seem to be able to read her so well? She didn’t deny his observation for it was true and instead let out a faint sough that accompanied the long breath that escaped her. Her hand easily placed itself in his without much hesitation, thankful to be surrounded in it's warmth yet again.

Elsa took in a gasp of air and slowly began to speak, if softly and still a bit detached, but at least trying to voice what was troubling her mind.

"They were only supposed to be gone a fortnight,"she began, her fingers tightening their curl around his hand. "I asked them if they had to go... they said I'd be fine, of course that wasn't what I had been worried about." She grew quiet again.

Hans softened and held her hand without a word for a while, tightening his grasp in a warming sort of way. He only wanted to help.

"You had every reason to be afraid. Few from land consider the unknowns of the sea." He admitted, reassuring her with a sort of calm. He kept his voice down so she could contemplate it in her own time, but he stayed with her there.

"Never walk into a sea of doubt alone, you may need someone to pull you back out. Go on ahead with your thoughts, I've got you." He suspected she needed to process some thoughts and be reassured. He would be there to tell her it wasn't her fault, and she could move on. It might not fix everything, but he thought it might help her handle it.

Elsa had never gotten time to properly process the passing of her parents, even now she had never really talked about it in depth with her own sister. It had been around five years now and it still weighed heavy on her heart, how she couldn't even embrace them before they'd left, or how she couldn't be present at their memorial, and worst of all how she could not mourn alongside her own sister in their mutual time of heartache. And all that additional regret just because of her powers and the fear that used to consume her. The warmth and clasp of his hand around hers, help anchor her from going too deep into the dark sea of her subconscious. She took another deep breath before she began to speak again, this time a little more audible than the last.

"I know it was out of my control, but a part of me still wonders that if I tried a little harder perhaps I could have convinced them to stay." she sighed. "It aches my heart that I wasn't able to give them a proper goodbye." There was a slight wavering to her voice. Her eyes became slightly watery, but tears still at bay.

"Here, now. Those what-ifs will be the death of you. They're always deceptive little things, questions as small as thumb tacks that will pierce holes in your heart. Parents never listen to their children, they had work to do, and they likely would have done it regardless how you felt. By your grace in letting them leave, they could at least know that you weren't greatly distressed when they left. They could remember their calm and thoughtful daughter and their upbeat and bright daughter, and they wouldn't feel they had made your last memory of them miserable." He didn't know if that would help, but he tried to think of what he would have wanted to hear. "It's okay to be unhappy about it, though. Don't think of the impossible 'what if's. It's said that we don't mourn for the dead, we mourn for the living they left behind. Be sad, mourn for your loss. And if you need a shoulder to cry on or arms to be held by, I'll volunteer mine any day." Was that too forward? He felt it was only right. He felt he understood her misery.

Elsa listened and felt a bit relieved just receiving reassurance.

“Thank you," she said softly, giving Hans' hand a firm squeeze. Letting herself lean in a bit closer to Hans.

Hans nodded. "What are fools for?" He joked gently. He shifted to settle, and opened an arm for her. She could keep holding his hand, or she could accept his arms and let him hold her. He told himself it was just because she was mourning, and he knew it would help her feel better. He tried to tell himself that was the only reason she might accept, too.

She saw his opened arm as an invitation for an embrace, now the question remained of whether or not she would accept it. She was perfectly content the way they were now, holding his hand, it was in itself nice and warm, but a hug on the other hand could be a lot nicer and more comforting. It wouldn’t be the first time they embraced and Elsa really did like warm hugs, even if she wouldn't openly admit it like Olaf. It would make her a bit nervous being that close to Hans, but that was insignificant if she could surround herself in more of his warmth. It was a tough decision, but in the end she went with the one that felt the most right. Elsa slowly let go of her clasp on his hand, freeing his arm so he could hold her.

Hans was at least a little bit surprised, but he thought that was probably a good sign. He rearranged himself to pull her close, as he would a good friend. He did wonder if that might seem a bit too intimate, though.

"Is this okay?" He asked, hoping that it was. She was surprisingly warming, for an ice queen. Or maybe that was him blushing, it was hard to say.

"Mmhm," she answered with a nod. Elsa was quite used to receiving close and personal embraces from her sister, Hans was no Anna of course, yet their hugs felt somewhat similar, experience wise at least. Both their embraces made her feel safe and warm. The differences really boiled down to how they felt physically. Anna felt more soft, while Hans was not necessarily more stiff but certainly firmer. Their proportions and how they held her was different of course, Hans was far bulkier than Anna that was relatively the same her, and with Hans being taller as well it made his head float over hers. It also seemed their body temperature differed, Hans always felt somewhat warmer, yet her constant flushing whenever they came into close contact might have also played a part in why that seemed to be the case. Another difference that was perhaps strange to admit she took notice of was their scents. Anna always had a sweet aroma about her, Elsa hadn't figured out what exactly Hans' scent was yet but it was far muskier, that's for sure.

Hans was sorely tempted to rest his chin on the top of her head, but he possessed just enough sense of decorum to realize he probably shouldn't treat the Queen of the country he now lived in like a small child. But, she seemed like she needed that warmth. At the very least, he held her close and petted her back, to try and calm her and help her feel better. Admittedly, he wasn't sure what to do after that. He would let her lead, and think of himself as just there for emotional support, as long as she wanted him there for.

In his embrace she no longer restrained the flow of tears she’d been holding back and began to sob silently. Finally letting the sorrow that's been stewing inside her to seep out. Allowing herself to grieve was a necessary process in enabling her heart to heal and overcome her anguish.

Her tears slowly began to fade away as she closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the warmth that blanketed her. It was so calming just to be cradled in his arms. She stayed perfectly still a long while, clearing her mind of everything, but the bliss of the moment. Hans always seemed to have a way of easing away her worries.

In their silent embrace all she could really hear was breathing and the palpitations of Hans' heart, which was rather soothing for a time, until eventually his heartbeat started to evoke a resemblance to a ticking clock, which prompted her back to reality, realizing that she might have been holding on too long and that tea time wouldn't last forever.

Elsa recognized that separating from their embrace might be equally or more awkward than initiating it. She started to shift her body slightly, slowly pulling her body away from Hans’.

"I'm sorry if this is not the tea time you were expecting, but thank you for indulging me regardless," she said earnestly.

Hans smiled a little anyway, as she pulled away, to encourage her. As much as he enjoyed that moment, it also made him wonder if he deserved it, and the more he thought along those lines, the more anxious he became.

"No apologies necessary, I'm glad to help," He assured. "I hope tea time isn't over already? I believe I promised to play for you." He pointed out sweetly. He would remember holding her for some time, but he wanted to linger on the moment for a little while. As anxious as he was, it was still a very pleasant experience.

Even as they were prying apart from each other, there was a part of her that wished it could just stay nestled in his caress. As the distance between them increased Elsa still didn't seem to feel the warmth dissipate, yet that was likely due to all the blood deciding to rush to her face (which made it the only thing she could really sense at the moment).

"We still have some time, besides this tea time couldn't possibly be over before even getting the chance of listening to you play the harp," she reassured with a soft smile. It was the reason they originally planned to meet in the first place after all, they just ended up getting a little sidetracked along the way. Undoubtedly a little awkward and unexpected, but it had been pleasant overall as they continued to comfort each other with their company.

#Helsa #Iceburns #Hans x Elsa #Frozen #Fanfiction #Frozen Fanfiction #Fanfic #Shattered Reflections

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takadasaiko · 7 years

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The Fallen Series: Costumes and Promises

FFN II AO3

Series Summary: One-shots following Robert Svane through his journey to becoming the Revenant Bobo Del Rey. Not written in chronological order. Pre-canon through current events in SyFy's Wynonna Earp.

One Shot Summary: Some promises last.

Costumes and Promises

She wanted to show him her Halloween costume. That's what she had told him the day before. She wanted to make sure it was perfect. Her class was having a competition and she was going to win. She wasn't there yet, and he wondered if something had distracted her.

Bobo lingered by the treeline, lit cigarette between his fingers, as he waited for his little angel to show. He brought it to his lips and inhaled deeply, feeling it rush down his throats and into his lungs, the nicotine released into his system. He closed his eyes, doing his best to relax as he released it. Things had been hectic lately. Two of his boys had had a rather nasty run in with the Order, as they liked to call themselves. They typically stayed away from Revenants and focused on other demonic presences in the Triangle, but every now and again they got an itch and stepped in. Lately they seemed to be testing out a new theory to see if Peacemaker was truly the only thing that could put them down. One of the Revenants that they'd caught had gotten away mostly intact, but Bobo didn't envy him the experience. The Revenant leader grimaced a bit at the memory of his own run-in with a particularly ambitious and short-sighted generation of the Order.

"Those are bad for you."

He looked up at the sound of the young voice and he wasn't quite sure how she had managed to sneak up on him. Bobo took one last drag from his cigarette before standing from where he was crouched down, dropping it to the ground to crush it under his heavy boot. "They won't hurt me. Promise," he said with a wink that made her giggle.

"Daddy smokes too. When he thinks we're not watching."

But she was always watching. That much was evident by her getup. The youngest Earp sister was dressed in jeans that were tucked into her boots, a plaid shirt much like the ones her daddy wore when he wasn't on duty as sheriff. She wore a hat that must have belonged to one of her sisters. It was too big for her, too small for Ward.

She was grinning now as she realized he was looking over her outfit. "You like my Halloween costume? Look. It's Wyatt Earp's real badge." She thumbed at a metal badge Bobo knew well that was pinned to her shirt.

"You going as a sheriff?" he guessed.

"No, silly. I'm going as the Earp Heir!" Waverly looked very proud of herself as she stood with her arms crossed over her chest and grinning. "I guess it's hard to tell with just the badge. I wanted to borrow Peacemaker, but Daddy carries it. He'd have noticed, so I had to use a toy." She pulled the little plastic gun from its plastic holster. "It's not long enough though, so you gotta use your imagination. See?" She pointed it out at the field, motioning like she was shooting at something. "You wanna play? The Heir has to hunt down all the Revenants - those are like these demon things. Daddy says that their eyes glow red and they're all really, really bad - and send them back to hell! You gotta shoot 'em right between the eyes." She made shooting sounds at the field as if she were aiming at some unseen Revenant. "That ends the curse. I can't do it for real because Willa's gonna be the Heir after Daddy, but we can pretend. You can help me end the curse, Bobo! Please?" She turned, looking at him. "Bobo?"

He was staring, he realized, the reality of their situation become so much more real as he listened to her talk. It was easy to forget everything when he was out here with her. Demons and Heirs and the curse were pushed back, his angel capturing his focus. The idea that she wanted the wield Peacemaker and put every last Revenant down hurt more than he thought it could.

"Bobo?" she asked again and tugged on his arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he breathed out. He squatted down on his heels and looked up at that innocent little face. Angels and demons were on opposite sides. The truth of that hurt worse than a physical blow.

"Did the cigarette make you sick? Wynonna and Willa snuck one from Daddy one time and they were so sick. Are you sick?"

He did feel ill. His stomach was churning and his chest was tight. It was bizarre. "Maybe that's it," he managed, looking for anything other than the truth that there would be a day - maybe sooner rather than later - when they would be enemies. She might never forgive him for these innocent days. The monster that pretended to be her friend. What if that's how she saw it? What if she thought he was using her? She wouldn't know - Ward certainly wouldn't explain it to her - why he had chosen to spend afternoons with the youngest Earp. He was a Revenant. Everything action would be seen through that darkness someday.

Waverly dropped her toy gun and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm sorry," she said sweetly into the furs and he reached up, pulling her closer.

"Hey," he rasped, "I'm alright. Don't worry about me."

"You're my best friend. I don't want you to be sick or sad."

A rough chuckle left him. Sad. He was clever, wasn't she? There was no lying to her.

Waverly gave a little sigh as she settled in. "Bobo?"

"Yeah, Angel?"

"You think maybe I can end the curse and make everyone happy?"

He pulled in a deep breath, an image playing across his mind of Peacemaker pressed against his own forehead. If he were the last thing between her family and the end of the curse, he wondered if he still had it in himself to sacrifice like that. He had once, when he thought it would buy Wyatt's freedom, but even that hadn't worked out as planned. No, dying wasn't the answer. You couldn't influence the outcome at all if you were dead. There was always another way. He wouldn't stop looking.

"I think you're smart enough to figure anything you want out, Angel. Guns ain't the only weapon in the world."

"Yeah. I don't have to have Peacemaker to help," she agreed. "Bobo?"

"Hmm?"

"You feeling better?"

"Yeah," he lied and gave her a quick squeeze. He just needed to focus on the here and now. The future would be there soon enough with all of its troubles. All he knew for sure was the promise he'd made to protect his angel was the one that mattered more than anything else in the world.

It had been a long time since he had thought about that day, but as he lingered at the fence line waiting for the Heir to show Bobo found his mind wandering to it. She'd been all smiles and innocence in those days, and she hadn't had any idea what he really was. She had cared about him, his little angel. Now, just as he had thought might happen, she couldn't see past the demon. Not that he really should blame her after his bout with Bulshar. Even the thought of the demon's name sent chills up his spine and he focused on keeping the voice out of his head.

Well, it looked like Wynonna was going to take her sweet time. It wasn't like he could just walk up to the house to see what was keeping her, so here he was. Waiting. Bobo dug into his pocket and pulled a cigarette and lighter out.

"Those things are bad for you, you know."

He turned, finding a familiar face behind him. Waverly stood several feet back on the Earp side of the fence. She wasn't wearing her sister's cowgirl hat today or Wyatt's badge and, thankfully, she didn't seem to be there to hunt him down. Granted, she didn't look particularly happy either.

Bobo snapped the zippo lighter shut and tucked the single cigarette back away in its holder, tilting his head just a little. "I was expecting your sister."

"Wynonna's tied up just a little longer. I thought we could…. talk."

He quirked an eyebrow at that and watched as she moved over to the fenceline. She was wary, but not necessarily afraid. She certainly hadn't seemed afraid a handful of days earlier when she'd shoved the gun in his face after he'd bent over backwards to help them.

Several long moments passed with him watching her watching him and they were getting nowhere. "So, talk," he prompted.

Waverly huffed. "You were a lot nicer when I was a kid."

"You were a kid. Lots happened between then and now."

She shook her head, her hands resting on the top board of the fence. "I've remembered bits and pieces over the last couple of years. I convinced myself you were just a figment of a really active imagination." There was something in her eyes that was distant as she spoke. "I remember telling Gus about you once and…. I told her you'd just stopped coming. I had no idea why. My daddy was dead. So was my big sister, the other one was being toted off the the mental hospital… and you'd just stopped coming. I was all alone and I guess making myself believe that you weren't real at all was easier." She sniffed hard, turning to look at him. "And then I realized who you were and I got it. It was never about being nice. It was about manipulating me."

"Is that what you think?"

"Am I wrong?"

"Would you believe it if you were?"

Waverly blinked hard and Bobo held her gaze. He watched her clever mind work, weighing what had happened, what seemed to have happened, and every possible outcome she could comprehend. As smart as she was, he'd wager she couldn't come up with half of them. He'd been playing at this game and every angle that he could to stay on top longer than she'd been alive by multiple generations, though explaining that outright went against everything he'd become.

Finally she loosed a breath, stepping forward so that she could lean against the fence with her chin set in the crook of her folded arms. "I don't know if we can trust you. If I can trust you."

Bobo leaned back against the post, watching her from the corner of his eye. "You told me once you wanted me to help you end this curse. Ending it's all I've wanted for over a century."

"And killing Bulshar will do that?"

He shuddered a little at the name. "It better."

"Well," Waverly said, her voice a little lighter as she climbed up the fence and took a seat on the top of it so that he had to look up at her, "if you promise not to screw us over, I'll…. try to keep an open mind. How's that sound?"

He found a hand extended towards him, reminiscent of the promises they made when she was young. "Deal," he told her gruffly, accepting her hand. It was bigger than he remembered and the shake was firmer than it had once been, but her lips curled up at the corners and the smile reaching her eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing. This was a peace offering. One he knew he hadn't earned yet, but one she was offering him anyway. His angel might just forgive him yet, and for the first time in years he found himself hoping she would.

Notes: I almost left it at that first break, but it just left me too sad, especially with everything that happened in the S2 finale. I have a multi-chapter that I'm still working out in my head, but the second half of this little story would probably fit into it, regardless of the direction I end up going with it. I just really, really hope that Bobo and Waverly get some time next season to work together. It was so fantastic during the AU episode and to see them swing right back around to essentially being on opposite sides made my heart hurt. There was a little wink there right before he stole her gun that makes me think he was trying to tell her he wasn't going to hurt her, no matter what he was saying or how it looked. He knew from plenty of experience that those Widows were dangerous and he was playing the game.

Hope you guys liked it! As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts :D

#Wynonna Earp #WE fanfiction #Fallen Series #Bobo Del Rey #Waverly Earp

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sending-the-message · 7 years

Text

I’m severely regretting posting a photo of my great-grandfather online [UPDATE] by kapekilp

My previous post

I’m really sorry it took me a while to update. I’m sure you’ll understand why, when you know what happened.

Things took an unexpected turn.

Basically, after my post – I went to sleep and woke up just to find the letter, and my Mum had gone out. It was quite late, but I figured that she’d gone out to clear her head.

I was about to start reading, when I realised how very late it was. It was like 2AM. My Mum must have set out earlier. She'd been gone for quite some time. It was awfully late for a walk... I just got the sense that something was wrong. I decided to leave the letter and go after her.

I paced all the routes she usually walks, but I couldn’t find her anywhere. I was running here and there and everywhere I could think of, in the dead of the night, calling her name, getting frantic. I tried calling her on her mobile phone, but there was no reply.

It was just awful, absolutely terrifying, on top of everything else. The unthinkable things that were running through my head… I’m sure you can imagine.

I searched until dawn, and eventually called the police to report her missing. It was awful, because it was a hollow feeling… I felt their help would be useless. It was just a terrible, bleak, tension-filled day, as I waited to hear back. One day turned into two. I began to think I might never see her again.

Eventually – well, it was a relief in some ways. Because she turned up in hospital - alive - but she was injured. She'd been found in the street, unconscious, without any identifying information. Bruised and bloody. They were able to ID her only when she woke up and told them her name, which is when they phoned me. When she was able to properly speak, she says that she hadn’t been paying attention to her surroundings, and she’d been violently mugged – her handbag taken.

I’ll be honest. I don’t know what to think. She might be lying. What are the chances that we… uncover what we do, and the same day, Mum gets put in hospital with such serious damage?

My Mum is insisting that it really just was just a case of her being so shaken and disturbed that night, that she ended up aimlessly walking into a dangerous situation, much less vigilant than she would normally be, because she was so distracted and upset at that time. I don’t know what to think. I’m not going to cross-examine her too much, though. She’s too shaken, after everything combined.

So: I’m sure you’ll understand why things have been so messed up, that I simply was not able to face the computer to update. I hadn’t even been able to concentrate to properly read her letter fully, actually. It’s only now that she’s back and safe in bed, that I’ve been able to focus enough to read the letter and so, I’m finally typing it up for you.

Here’s the letter she wrote that night, before all this:

Kate,

I hardly know where to begin. How can I possibly condense the complex, beguiling character of that man, my grandfather, down to just a few pages? I have so many thoughts, so many memories. I never wanted to burden you with them. Besides, I could never be certain how much of it was just my childish mind, my imagination.

I suppose now I know. I wish I didn’t. How I wish I could have died with the happier memories at the forefront of my mind, without having to think about the rest. But I can’t pretend any longer. I need to tell you everything I remember. If I don’t, it’s possible that I might be putting you in danger. Without knowledge, you are blind, and potentially vulnerable, and I don’t want you in that position.

There were always signs, I suppose.

For one thing... his mind was certainly, different. He was so uniquely clever, so wise. Those same things that once made me admire him so much, now make me shudder, thinking back. He could speak with advanced competence on any number of subjects. And his mental agility, my God. He’d be able to work out complex calculations in a flash. His memory was next to none – he’d read something, and be able to recite it word-for-word months later, or be able to remember names and faces and conversations with astonishing detail, years after a mundane encounter. His charm snared him many friends. He had that ability to make everyone he spoke to feel like they were the most important person in the world. And he doted on me, his only grandchild. I remember, I’d ask him what job he did when he was younger: he’d laugh, and tell me ‘Something of everything’.

And he wasn’t just worldly wise. He seemed to have this innate sense about people. He seemed to be able to guess my thoughts, sometimes. He had an uncanny ability to know what I was thinking. At the time, I used to think it was all just par for the course. All children think so, don’t they? When they’re little, they think their elders are limitless fountains of knowledge. So when I looked back with an adult’s eye, I really did think I was maybe confusing my memories with my childish over-admiration. I could never tell where my memories stopped, and where my adoring imagination had coloured them a little too much.

But I remember one particular memory that stands out.

I’d been naughty at school one day. There was a girl in my class – her name was Sandra. She had gotten a beautiful doll as a present from her Uncle, who lived abroad. She brought it into the class to show it off. International travel wasn’t quite so very commonplace as it is today, you have to remember. We’d never seen anything like that doll before – the whole class was clamouring to see. The doll was a rarity, with gorgeous jet black hair and a darling pretty face, and a beautiful, intricate dress. My young heart was in love with it, and brimming with jealousy. What made matters worse: I hated Sandra. She was mean and pulled my hair, and pushed me over during break. She was spoiled and nasty to me. She didn’t deserve such a beautiful doll.

When everyone was outside, I sneaked in, and, my heart beating fast, I took the doll from inside her desk, and put it into my bag. The girl didn’t realise, and we all went home. I didn’t dare risk taking the doll out of my bag to play with, or my parents would recognise the strange toy. But I was elated to have her in my possession. Or at the very least, out of Sandra’s possession.

As I got home, though, the guilt started to gnaw away at me.

At dinnertime, my parents didn’t say anything, of course – it was business as usual. But Grandpa was visiting us. And he knew. I could tell he just knew.

He closed one eye and scrutinised me. He’d always do that, when I had something to hide. Look at me through that dark, brown eye. (I have never seen anyone with irises those particular shades, ever, other than him, even with other people with chimera eyes or otherwise. One was such an intensely dark brown that it was almost black, and the other was an unusually deep green).

When he looked at me like that, it would feel as if he could see my soul. He did that a lot -not only with me. He would stop sometimes, and squint one eye, appraising things. Looking back as an adult, I thought it was just an odd, perhaps endearing, habit of his.

At that time, though, I spent the entire dinner that evening, feeling weighed down by guilt… and terror, because I could tell by the way he was staring at me, that somehow, he knew exactly what I’d done. When we were done with dinner – I wasn’t able to stomach a single bite - he took me aside to another room, where Mama and Papa couldn’t hear. And he asked me what I’d done. First I tried to lie. I couldn’t hide it from him. He started to look angry. I couldn’t bear him being angry at me.

I finally broke down and told him. In tears, I went to get my bag from my room and showed him the doll that wasn’t mine. He looked stern, and told me to return the doll to the girl. I did – I got to school early and quietly returned the doll to Sandra’s desk, before anyone realised it was gone.

A few weeks later, my Grandpa gave me a present, wrapped up. It was a doll, just like Sandra’s, except with an even nicer dress, with a note congratulating me for doing the right thing in the end, and telling me never to make the same mistake again. I loved him so much for that.

He was so sharp – his mind. He never seemed to sleep – he’d be pouring over books in his library until the small hours, or going for long, midnight walks (to ruminate, he told me. It's a habit I inherited). But he was bodily strong, too. I clearly remember he could pick things up easily, like they were nothing. Even when they were too heavy for my Papa - his son, who was by no means a weak man.

I also remember that my Papa said Grandpa had never been ill a day of his life. His hair was almost all white, but he was still strong in body and mind, and hardly had any wrinkles at all, except for some fine laughter lines around his eyes. I remember him just like he was in that photograph. He was always so active and he’d exercise with such rigour, such discipline – and say it was important to keep his muscles active before he wasted away. He always told me it was important to keep healthy and eat right, too.

I wonder now, if all that healthy living was really just a front, so none of us would suspect?

My Dad told me he never went to the doctor a day in his life. He never did get any illness or infection – no matter what we came home with – no cold or flu ever struck him down, even when it had torn through the rest of the household. As it was, we just accepted that his meticulously healthy lifestyle had meant that he’d aged remarkably well and remained so healthy. Faced with such a situation, would you ever think anything else?

All in all, he was such a clever, upstanding, well-loved man… it was so easy to overlook those more difficult memories. To forget them entirely, even.

One day, we went out on a walk – I was staying at his house during the school holidays, as I often did. He took me to the shops. It turned out to be one of the worst days of my childhood.

I can’t remember the trip itself: while it was happening, I didn’t know that I would ever have such sinister reasons to recall it. I just remember though, that partway through, after speaking to someone, he came away angry. So furious – I’ve never seen him that way. I think there had been a run-in, an argument with someone.

I’d been distracted the whole time because I was clutching a chocolate bar I wanted him to buy for me, and I was tugging on his shirt, and then I looked up at him and saw the reason he wasn’t paying attention to me. He was so angry, he wasn’t even seeing me.

He ended our outing early (boy, did I know better than to pester him about the chocolate bar again… I put it down so fast). He took me home, not saying a word. He didn’t join us for dinner.

I had all but forgotten about it – except that I heard him getting up to leave the house, in the middle of the night. He often did go for late walks, but somehow, the noise he was making – hurried, agitated – just signalled to me that something was wrong. I got up in the dark, padded across the carpet barefoot, clutching my nightgown about me – and met him in the hallway, on his way out. He was dressed up in a long, dark coat. He was surprised to see me. He picked me up and kissed my forehead. Took me back to my bed and tucked me in. Told me not to worry.

‘You might hear some strange sounds, though, Anna,’ he said. ‘If you hear the sound of screaming, put your fingers in your ears, and close your eyes. Do you understand?’

I nodded and he closed my bedroom window, drew the curtains, and went out again.

I didn’t hear anything in that first part of the night, but I didn’t sleep a wink. I kept tossing and turning, wondering where he was, what he was doing, why had he said what he did? Was he ok? Whose screaming did he anticipate? His own? Someone else’s? Why wasn’t I supposed to listen?

I kept my ears strained, but didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary.

When he came home some hours later, he shut the door gently, and made almost no noise on the stairs. He was trying to be quiet, get back into his room undisturbed, but I was wide awake and alert, and my ears were straining for any small sound. My heart leapt when I heard him come in. I’d been so scared that something would happen to him.

I clambered off the bed, and ran, shivering, to meet him again on the stairs.

I had never before seen him as he was that night. The sight knocked the breath out of me.

For one thing, he was injured. He was limping and bruised, and his lip torn. I had never thought that he would have been at the losing end of a fight. He was unnaturally strong. I honestly can’t remember any time before that night, when I had seen him with any injury whatsoever – never even a scrape. The sight would have made me feel sorry for him.

But what kept my sympathy choked up was this.

The second thing: he looked furiously angry. A determined, savage look in his eyes. Cold. I’m afraid to say it, but he looked… almost cruel. I ran to him, and held out my arms, uncertain what to say, but wanting to reassure him… and needing reassurance myself.

For the first time in my memory, he didn’t hug me, he barely looked at me. I reached out to him, but he avoided my touch, irritated. Something he’d never done before, ever.

I went back to bed, desolate. So upset that my dear Grandpa was hurt. But I felt wounded that he’d ignored me, and treated me so coldly. So incredibly unlike his normal self. I cried myself to sleep, wallowing in self-pity and confusion.

My tears had exhausted me, and I was almost asleep, when the sound of the first scream came.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to convey to you, Katie, what a sound that was. It was unlike any human sound I have ever heard. The very sound filled me with such a deep, intense terror, that I forgot all my thoughts, everything was knocked out of my head. It felt like I did not exist anymore. It felt like I was just a body filled with fear. The sound seemed to evoke something primal in me. A fear so intense, I never thought possible. A fear so deep, it physically hurt.

I could barely breathe, I could barely move, and I was soaked in sweat and my bedsheets clung to my clammy body, but somehow I managed drag the covers over my head. That’s when the next scream came. That’s when I remembered what Grandpa had said, and I put my fingers in my ears so tightly that my ear canals ached. Whatever it was that was making that sound… I didn’t even want to think about it. I screwed my eyes shut and curled up my knees to my face. I didn’t sleep. Every time I got close to dozing, I jerked awake, because I was afraid my hands would become loose and fall away from my ears. I couldn’t risk that.

The next morning, Grandpa came down. He said nothing, still looking stern. And what was even more unsettling: his injuries were all gone.

I remember staring at him, astonished, but he said nothing, nor did he look at me. He just went back to his books after breakfast.

I suppose I thought I must have imagined everything.

Except, a few days later, there was an unexplained death – a man was found with unusual injuries. They said he seemed to have been pulverised somehow, except they couldn’t explain it. The work didn’t seem like anything a human could do: they suspected perhaps some extreme disease They’d identified him by his dental records. I remember looking at the photo in the paper. I was certain I’d seen him in the shop that day.

I was too afraid to ask Grandpa about it. The news died out in a few days. And I suppose, so did my memory: as he returned to normal, my loving, clever, kind Grandpa, I forgot all about it.

The second time I heard the screams, was a few years later. I was about ten years old.

That time, it wasn’t just one night, but three nights in a row. And it all came back. I did as he’d told me that first time, and put my fingers in my ears. In the mornings, it would feel as though nothing had happened.

But then came the news that there was a young man missing from our neighbourhood. Worry seemed to gnaw at me. I don’t think would ever have linked the two things together – except for the fact that I noticed that Grandpa seemed uneasy whenever my parents discussed the missing man, or saw an article about him, or any time anyone expressed any concern about the case.

Again, my mind made excuses. It was a coincidence. I resolutely ignored it.

Some days later, I read in the newspaper that the missing man was found. Alive, thankfully. But with puzzling injuries: internal haemorrhaging. He was ranting and raving about a large, black, terrifying winged creature. And screams that had almost torn up his body.

As soon as I read that, I looked at my Grandpa. We were sitting at opposite ends of the dinner table while I read the newspaper over dinner. His eyes met mine. Those uncanny, wise, chimera eyes. And for once, it was me who was reading his wrongdoings. And, through that strange, dark eye of his, he could read me. He knew that I knew.

But, as the years wore on… I don’t know. . When it’s all written out together like this, it seems undeniably terrible. Ominous. But when these events are like rare blips, with long stretches of unremarkable, completely normal days all the rest of the while… it’s so easy to forget. It’s easy to cajole yourself into disbelief.

You have to understand, I didn’t have the collective knowledge of the internet. I knew nothing about those terrible legends. The lore. All I knew was what I had seen and heard, the dead of the night. I had only disjointed evidence at best. I knew nothing about where the screams originated. I had no direct evidence that my Grandpa was involved at all, only that he had given me that singlular warning. My parents knew nothing of what had been going on. The only person who knew was my Grandpa, when he gave no indication that anything was wrong, it was difficult for me to believe otherwise. When the days went back to normal, those memories felt only like vague nightmares – less and less vivid, and less believable, with the passage of time.

Besides, when you love someone, you make excuses. You want push things under the rug. You don’t want to face the truth. When you’re little, you doubt you even know the truth. The years matured me, and I became certain that my infant brain had been over-sensationalising things. How could my Grandpa –with his upright, moral character, his kindness, his wisdom – how could he possibly be connected with anything sinister?

A I approached my middle teens, Grandpa started to talk more and more about how he wouldn’t be around forever. He laid it on thick with the life advice. More conversations revolved around what to do when he wasn’t around anymore. It made my heart so sad to hear him speak like that. I’d tell him he was as fit as a fiddle… that he shouldn’t talk so pessimistically. He was healthier than my Papa – his own son.

He would wave my protests aside and tell me to be serious. He would talk to me about my life plans. He would tell me about things to be wary of. He would tell me that I needed to be careful, make wise decisions.

But then I noticed, steadily, he began to deteriorate.

My brave strong, grandfather. He would stop and look around with that dark eye of his. And he’d start. Sometimes, he would lose track of conversations, distracted. He started crying out in the night.

Papa suspected dementia. Or some other mental illness. We’d never seen him so distracted, so confused before. Combined with his incessant talk of his demise, I finally began to get concerned. We mentioned getting examined at a doctor, but he resolutely refused.

It went on for some time. We were scheduled to on a family holiday – my parents and I (Grandpa never came with us on our trips) but I didn’t want to leave him. My parents left without me, and I stayed with him. And that’s when it happened.

One night in particular, I could hear him pacing rummaging around in his study. I laid awake and wondered. His eyes roamed, always distracted and didn’t focus on my conversation.

I couldn’t get rid of the awful feeling that he wasn’t losing his mind. It was much worse. Much more sinister. He was confused and vulnerable, because for the first time in his life – he was distracted, because and he was finally afraid of something. I think I found this thought worse than anything else.

I thought about it all night long. For some reason, it was all coming back to me, those supressed thoughts. The memory of the screams. The body. The missing man. My grandfather’s uncanny sharpness, his charm, his knowledge, his strength and perception. It wasn’t natural. Why was he like this? What was he?

Was everything catching up with him now? Was that why he was afraid?

I drifted into an uneasy slumber.

And that was when I had the nightmare.

I dreamt that I heard something from Grandpa’s study. In my dream, I rose from my bed and went towards the study. The lights wouldn’t turn on, so I just crept down the stairs and through the hall in the darkness. I was shivering, because the heating wasn’t on. It was winter, and it was cold. Was there a power-cut?

I reached the corridor leading to the study, and stopped. There was a dark, figure standing in the corridor, facing away from me. A man in a coat, with the hood up over his head.

‘Grandpa?’ I said.

The figure turned around. His face was obscured in the darkness.

‘So you’re his granddaughter,’ he said, turning around. He spoke in a low, but clear voice. Rasping, slightly. ‘I would never have taken that creature for a family man.’

I took a step back and wanted to run away, but seemed frozen.

‘Look what your grandfather did to me.’

He lowered his hood.

It was a terrible face. Withered, melted features. He looked like a walking corpse.

I think might have gasped, or screamed.

My grandfather emerged from the door behind him – from the study.

The man in the coat took a step forward, and grabbed me. Pulled me to him, and turned around, so we were both facing my Grandpa. My back was to this man-corpse, and his/its arm was around me, pulling me into his chest.

‘Every villain has its weakness, then,’ said the man-corpse, speaking evenly. ‘Even wicked monsters such as yourself.’

I was crying, silently.

‘Let us see you call your helper. Call him upon me again to finish the job. It’ll kill your Anna too.’ I felt his chest heave behind me, against my back, as he laughed, a humourless laugh. ‘After all: you have no hesitation killing the children of others.’

Grandpa was looking at me, his mouth set into a hard line.

He made a sudden move, and wrenched me away from the man. He pushed me away. I fell into the floor bodily, winded.

‘Run,’ he said.

He was distracted in saving me.

I heard a gunshot.

I saw Grandpa fall to the floor.

I heard the man laughing.

And then I fainted.

I woke up in my own bed. It was daytime. Sunlight was pouring through the window. It was a cold, clear day. It took me a while to remember everything. But when I did, God, can you imagine my relief to learn that it was all a dream?

I rushed from my bed, my feet getting tangled up in my sheets. When I managed to extract myself, I ran to the study downstairs.

And my heart sank when I saw the door was open.

His books and papers were dishevelled and strewn out. There was blood everywhere.

I think, for some time, I lost my mind. I wasn’t able to follow, or even provide any lucid evidence for, the police investigation that followed. I just knew it was pointless.

I didn’t know what to believe. All these years, I couldn’t understand if it had been a dream or not. All these years, I was so confused. If it hadn’t been a dream – if the dream had just been the product of me hearing sounds in the night – then he was still dead and gone. He had been so uncharacteristically nervous, those last few days. If it hadn’t been a dream – I had seen him die. I had caused him to die. And he’d died a villain.

Over the years, my love for him overwhelmed me once again. I was able to reason with myself, that those things I’d seen were just my imagination. The screams were just coincidence: someone drunk, screaming in the street perhaps, and I’d exaggerated the sound in my mind later on. Wild, nonsensical stuff, made up by my child’s brain. It was all ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous.

That the last night had been a dream – caused by the violent noises of a robbery that had killed my grandfather, as the police hypothesised. They’d ransacked the house (much of Grandpa’s things were missing) and gotten rid of his body. The therapist validated my reason. I learned to love and admire my Grandpa again, just as I had known him, outside of those terrible nights.

Today, that was all destroyed.

Never, never, even in my wildest, most frightened thoughts, had I imagined the sheer scale of it. Never had I thought he might be alive, still. Even if I had, tentatively, thought that there was a chance that he escaped that night alive… I didn’t think he would still be alive today, so many years on. Never. I knew he was unnaturally healthy for his age… but that he’s been around, and feared, for centuries? God. The thought of it.

I knew him as loving, but the world around him did not. And I suppose I caught glimpses of that other perspective. And I know now - I knew only a small fraction of his life, of his character.

I don’t blame you, my darling, for uncovering all this. It pains me, yes. But we must face up to the truth, no matter how sinister, how terrible, it is.

END OF MUM'S LETTER

So, there it is.

You know, I think I’m going to try and research find to out everything I can about him, now. All the lore surrounding him.

Seeing my mother in hospital… I’ll admit, it was a frightening shock. I still don’t know what happened, or the true extent of things, and I have no idea what this man(?) is capable of. He seems to had that dark undercurrent, that was much larger, and much darker, than my Mum could have known.

But I do think it is better for us to be armed with knowledge than blindly wandering in the dark. If anyone saw the original post on OldSchoolCool and commented there, with their experiences or legends about him from your area, I’d appreciate if you could share with me anything you know via PM.

I’m going to try and find out everything. I have no idea what I’m doing, or where to begin. I can barely gather my thoughts, or make up my mind what to believe or how to think or interpret things. It’s so confusing, and so ominous, all of it. I don't know where it'll take me. But I have to do something.

I’ll try and compile all I find out, and keep you updated.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

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