#and he knew how to avoid the traffic there but Rhyme's just a kid

[raviniaraven]

Thinking about everything with Rhyme and Beat in TWEWY and getting unnecessarily sad about fictional siblings bc just. Fuck.

Like. Imagine you die saving the one person in the world that doesn't treat you like shit. Then minutes later you realize she still ended up dying because you weren't strong enough to protect her. And there was a hidden price for trying to come back, what you value more than anything, and in your case that was her entire memory of you. So she treats you like a stranger and it breaks your heart but you can't say anything about it. And her price was her dreams and goals so she's outwardly happy but silently depressed bc she has nothing to strive for.

And then. Just when it seems like everything's going okay. You make a mistake and this person you failed to save who can't even remember that you tried, she saves you. At the cost of her own chance. Without even remembering a thing about you, just because that's the kind of person she is, and in her mind you have more to live for because she gave up her dreams. And now you're still here but she's gone, because you still couldn't protect her.

Then someone suggests a way to maybe save her, but it involves aligning with the people that destroyed her in the first place and may not even work. You can't go back, there's nothing left for you if you do, the one person that meant anything to you is gone. And so you dedicate whatever you have to doing whatever you need to do to bring her back. Because there's no point in getting a chance to live if she isn't there.

[mycatshuman]

The Emo Who Stole Christmas

Chapter 4 : You're A Mean One Mr. Grinch or Virgil and Roman Are Done With the Who's and Decide to Get Back at Them.

Word Count: 3,477

Warnings: stealing of Christmas, may be some cursing, grown adult blaming a child for their problems, let me know if I missed any

Pairings: Pre-established Prinxiety and Logicality and Demus

Masterlist | Previous | Next | More Chapters

Again, a big thank you to @icequeenoriginal for being the co-creator. This was a mother-daughter effort and I love it.

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Virgil stood staring down at the Whoville in the ice-cold snow. 

Yes, the Grinch knew that tomorrow all the Whos would wake bright and early and rush for their toys. 

"And then, the noise! Oh, the noise! Noise, noise, noise!" Virgil exclaimed as he stomped around. "They'll bang on tong-tinglers. They'll blow their floo-flounders. They'll crash on Jang-jinglers and bounce on boing-bouncers!" He held his hands to his ears as if he could already hear the horrific noise. 

Then Whos young and old would sit down to feast. 

"And they'll ready and they'll feast. And they'll feast, feast, feast, feast!!" Virgil exclaimed as he stomped around. "They'll eat their Who pudding! And rare Who roast beast! And that's something I can not stand in the least." Virgil paused in his ranting. "Oh no!" He exclaimed horrified. "I'm speaking in rhyme!" He cried out. "Blast you Whos!" He exclaimed as he fell to his knees. 

The more the Grinch thought of what Christmas would bring…the more the Grinch thought...

"I must stop this whole thing!" Virgil exclaimed as he stood up and paced. "For year after year, I've put up with it now! I must stop this Christmas from coming! But how?" Virgil blinked. "I mean, in what way?" He let out an annoyed growl and turned to walk inside. He opened the door and was hit with a blast of cheery Christmas music. 

"Christmas is going to the dogs!" Virgil blinked as he watches Remy lazily bath himself to the music. Virgil opened his mouth only to close it again confused. He quickly jumped at the sound of his door opening and turned to find Roman dressed in sweats.

"Roman?" Virgil asked concerned. "How are you feeling?" Roman shuffled forward and fell forward into his lover's arms. Virgil's arms came up to wrap around the other and envelope him in a hug. 

"Virgil…I want to live with you. I don't want to be down there anymore. Not with the way they keep treating me, like some ornament meant to be stared at or ignored! Please! I don't care if someone finds out, I can't live there anymore!”

Virgil blinked rapidly. "Love," he started. "Are you 100% sure about this?" Roman nodded. Virgil sighed and ran his hands through the other soft curls. 

"Virgil?" Roman asked softly after a while. 

"Hmm?"

"I want to make them pay. I want them to understand. I don't-I want them to-" Roman groaned and hurried his face in Virgil's chest, ironically too emotionally exhausted to deal with his emotions.  Virgil frowned and snuggled the other closer trying to provide as much comfort as he could. Then, his mind began to whirl. 

Then the Grinch got an idea. An awful idea. The Grinch got a wonderful awful idea. 

Virgil pulled away from Roman and announced. ”I’m going to steal Christmas.” Roman blinked as Virgil smirked. "They want to hurt you so bad, they'll lose Christmas. And if they want a monster, then I'll show them a monster!" 

Roman hopped up, finally finding some energy. "Yes! I'll go make the costume. You work on the sleigh!" He turned to Remy only to stop. "And you just keep bathing yourself." Roman ran off and began working while Virgil started on the monstrous sleigh. 

”With this coat and this hat, he'll look just like Saint Nick!" Roman exclaimed. As they worked, Roman's voice sang a little song he had composed from all of the stupid rumors about the Grinch. "'You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch,'"  Virgil chuckled as he heard the other sing. "'You really are a heel. You're as cuddly as a cactus, You're as charming as an eel, Mr. Grinch! You're a bad banana with a greasy black peel!" Roman walked over to Virgil with the hat and place it on his head as he sang and place a quick kiss to his cheeks before going back to work on the jacket. "'Just face the music, you're a monster, Mr. Grinch, yes, you are. Your heart's an empty hole. Your brain is full of spiders. You've got garlic in your soul, Mr. Grinch. I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole.'" Virgil snorted as Roman danced around with the jacket before sitting on a table out of his way so he could work on the pants. "You know, if you ask the Who's Who of Whoville, No one's denyin”  Virgil spared a glance at Roman and smiled. Boy did he love him. 

"'You're a vile one, Mr. Grinch." Roman picked up the song again. "'You have termites in your smile. You have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile, Mr. Grinch. Given the choice between you, I'd take the seasick crocodile!" Virgil giggled as Roman tossed the pants over to the same table. He closed the front door behind him after having moved the sleigh outside and walked over to Roman. He wrapped him in a hug and kissed his temple. Roman hummed happily. Virgil hated to have to wipe the smile from his face. 

"Roman," Roman made a small noise of acknowledgment. "I'm going to need you to go home. Just for tonight."

Roman ripped himself away from Virgil. "What?! Why?!" 

"I can't have you helping me-" 

"No! You can't--no!" 

"Roman, please-"

"No! No! No!" 

"Roman, I can't have you getting in trouble. I want to make sure if you ever want to go back, you can! I can't bare to have you help and then regret it and then want to leave but you can't because you've been shunned. Please, Roman. This is all I ask. Just this one night. Please." 

Roman stared at Virgil for a while before reluctantly nodding. "Okay," he whispered. He wasn't happy about it, but he knew it would make Virgil feel better about everything. "Okay, just-" Roman moved forward and placed a hand on Virgil's cheek. "Be careful, okay?" Virgil nodded. "Thank you." Roman pushed up on his tiptoes and gave the other a light kiss. "I'll see you later." 

"See you later," Virgil promised

-----

Virgil sat with Remy watching Santa through a telescope. "He should be finishing up anytime now. Wanna talk about a recluse? He only comes out once a year but does he catch any hate for it? No! He probably lives up there just to avoid the taxes." Virgil ranted. He paused as he watched as Santa flew away in his sleigh. "Whoops. I forgot about the reindeer…" 

Did that stop the old Grinch? No, the Grinch simply said: 

"If I can't find a reindeer, I'll make one instead." Virgil turned around and faced Remy. "Remy!" Remy rolled his eyes and prepared himself to wear a headband with antlers. Virgil quickly found a reindeer headband and placed it on his cat's head before placing a red nose on his nose. "Okay, you're a reindeer and your motivation is that you're a deer with a red nose and nobody likes you. One day, you save Christmas-" Virgil paused. "Ignore that. We'll just improvise. You hate Christmas! You're gonna steal it! Saving Christmas was such a lousy ending. Okay and action!" 

Remy glared at Virgil before knocking the red nose off. Virgil blinked and then he gasped. "Brilliant! You regret your own nose because it represents the glitter of commercialism! Why didn't I think of that?" Then Virgil walked off and climbed into the sleigh along with Remy. 

Virgil flipped the switch and the sleigh came life, vibrating with power. "That feels good." Virgil turned to Remy "Here goes nothing," and he pressed the bottom to start actually start moving. The sleigh rose up in the air and Virgil grinned. "Wow! It actually works! Okay! Let's go! On, Crasher! On Thrasher! On, Vomit and Blitzkrieg!!!" Virgil screamed as the sleigh shot off and began spinning violently, turning over and over. "We're gonna die!" Virgil shrieked. "We're gonna die! I'm going to throw up! And then we're gonna die! Mommy, tell it to stop!!" He cried, eventually he was able to wrangle control of the sleigh and they flew smoothly through the sky. Virgil stayed frozen for a moment before allowing himself to slightly relax. He let out a sigh of relief. "Almost lost my cool there." 

All their windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air. All the Whos were all dreaming sweet dreams without care when he came to the first little house on the square…

Virgil slowly brought down the sleigh on top of the roof of an overly decorated house. He noticed a traffic light among the variety of lights. "Weird." He turned back to Remy. "This will be our first stop."

The old Grinchy Claus hissed. And he climbed to the roof, empty bags in his fist. He'd slide down the chimney, a rather tight pinch, but if Santa could do it, so could the Grinch.

Virgil stood up and tied a rope around his waist. He stepped up onto the edge of the chimney and prepared to dive. "He's planning a double-twisted interrupted forward-flying 2-and-a-half with a combo tuck and like. A high degree of difficulty," Virgil muttered and jumped and dove headfirst down into the chimney. 

He got stuck only once, for a moment or two…

Virgil groaned quietly. "Stupid suit," muttered, referring to the furry suit of the Grinch. Something that helped him scare kids off and leave him alone now was slowing him down from his biggest scare of all. He huffed.

Then he stuck his head out of the fireplace flue. 

"A little more stealth, Thomas, please." 

Thomas lowered his voice. Where the little Who stockings all hung in a row. 

"These stockings," he grinned. "Are the first things to go." The Grinch opened a jar and turned it upside down, shaking out moths. "Alright, fellas, chow time." The moths quickly gobbled up the stockings. 

Then he slunk to the icebox. 

"Slunk?" 

He eyed the Whos' feast. He took the Who pudding. He took the roast beast. 

"Hike!" Virgil called out as he launched the roast beast through his legs like a football player. 

He cleaned out that icebox as quick as a flash. Why that Grinch, even took their last can of Who-hash. Then he stuffed all the food up the chimney with glee. 

Virgil threw the bag up the chimney and spun around to face the tree. "And now," grinned the Grinch. "I'll stuff up the tree!" And the Grinch grabbed the tree and he started to shove, when he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove. 

Virgil turned to find Emile and grimaced. He felt really bad about this….

"Excuse me" Emile called softly. 

The Grinch had been caught by this tiny Who child, who'd got out of bed for a cup of cold water. 

"Mr. Santa, what are you doing with our tree?" 

But you know, that old Grinch was so smart and so slick, he thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick. 

"Why my sweet little tot!" Virgil exclaimed grandly. "There's a light on this tree that won't light on one side. So, I'm taking it home to my workshop, sweet child. "I'll fix it up there, then I'll bring it back here."

Emile narrowed their eyes. "Santa, what's Christmas really about?" 

"Vengeance!" Virgil exclaimed before remembering he was supposed to be pretending he was the perfect Who Santa. "I mean...presents, I suppose." 

Emile frowned. "I was afraid of that." 

And his fib fooled the child. Then he patted their head and got them a drink, and he sent them to bed. 

Emile paused their journey up the stairs. "Santa?"

"What?" Virgil asked. 

"Don't forget the Grinch-" 

Virgil couldn't take it anymore and walk out from behind the tree. "I'm sorry." 

Emile blinked and furrowed their brows. "Why?" 

Virgil bit his lip. "To show you all what's more important ...and to get back at everyone for upsetting Roman." 

Emile nodded. "Okay. Well...good luck, Virgil." 

And when Emile Lou went up with their cup, the Grinch went to the chimney and stuffed the tree up. Virgil quickly shot the tree up the chimney and grabbed everything else before climbing back up the chimney. And the last thing he took was the log for their fire. On their walls, he left nothing but some hooks and some wire. And the one speck of food that he'd left in the house, was a crumb that was even too small for a mouse. Virgil reached down and picked the mouse up deciding to allow it to eat something so long as it wasn't in a Whos’ house. Then he slithered and slunk with a smile most unpleasant, around each Who home and he took every present. 

Virgil took a saw and cut a circle above his head and the floor fell through along with the Christmas tree and its presents. He stepped up through the hole and smirked. "They're in sale. Everything must go." And he began to take it all. 

------

Virgil froze as he stepped into the bedroom of a magazine picture-perfect house. Oh. This was Roman's house. He glanced around at the decorations and found himself smiling fondly. He should have known. Everything just screamed Roman from the abundance of reds, whites, and golds. He carefully walked over to the bedside table and noticed the ring box the mayor had given Roman. He nearly growled as he went to take it before noticing something else. It was his gift. The one he had made for Roman all those years ago. Virgil's eyes watered and he forced himself to blink the tears away. He shook his head and quickly snatched the ring box off of the table. He went to move only to be stopped by a tan hand yanking him down and lips crashing into his. Virgil blinked in surprise before happily giving into Roman and allowing the other to wrap his arms around his neck. 

Roman pulled away after kissing Virgil senseless. "Virgil," he asked softly. "Please, let me help." Virgil bit his lip. "I suppose..." He started. "You can help...but...just promise that if we get caught, you say I forced you to do it, okay?" 

Roman's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait! No! I can't-" 

"Then I can't let you help." 

Roman blinked. "I-okay," he sighed in defeat. "I'll tell them you forced me." Virgil let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you." 

-----

Roman froze as he finally dragged the attention away from Virgil's hiding place. He hadn't realized the Whos would put out guards to guard the path leading to Mount Crumpit after everyone went to bed to protect from the Grinch. From Virgil. But Virgil ran out of fuel for his rocket sleigh and he had to drag it up the mountain himself. But they were losing moonlight, and the long way around wouldn't work. So Roman offered to try and distract them. But now, he was very nervous. The Who guards had rounded on him. Accusing him of being in league with the Grinch. Of course, he was, but Virgil had made him promise and he wasn't about to break his promise. 

"You really think I'm in league with the Grinch?" Roman asked the guards. 

They nodded. "Yeah, why else wouldn't you have immediately said yes to Mayor Anton's proposal?” 

Roman grimaced. He really hated the mayor. 

"If I really hated the Grinch, would I do this?" Then Roman started his song. "'You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch. You really are a heel, You're as cuddly as a cactus, You're as charming as an eel, Mr. Grinch. You're a bad banana with a greasy black peel. Just face the music, you're a monster, Mr. Grinch, yes, you are. Your heart's an empty hole, Your brain is full of spiders, You've got garlic in your soul, Mr. Grinch. I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole. You know, if you ask the Who's Who of Whoville No one's denyin'. You're a vile one, Mr. Grinch. You have termites in your smile. You have all the tender sweetness Of a seasick crocodile, Mr. Grinch. Given the choice between you, I'd take the seasick crocodile.'" 

As Roman sang, he watched Virgil carefully carry the sleigh behind the two guards and try to rush up the path until he wouldn't be noticed. 

"I suppose not," one of the guards said once Roman's song was done. Then they both turned back to face the mountain. 

Roman blinked. Surely it can't be that easy! But it seemed it was. So he turned and quickly found the nearest garbage chute and took a ride to the top of Mount Crumpit. Prepared to meet his love at the top. 

----

3,000 feet up, up the side of Mount Crumpit, he rode with his load to the tip top to dump it.

Virgil grunted as he set the sleigh down carefully in the snow and turned to face Roman who was standing before him. "We did it!" He exclaimed excitedly. Roman grinned, leaped into his arms and wrapped him in a tight hug. Virgil placed a kiss to Roman's lips before setting him back down on his own feet. Virgil turned to Remy. "That wasn't so bad, was it Remy?" 

Remy rolled his eyes as he remembered at least 30 different breakdowns Virgil had had along the way. 

Roman turned towards the horizon. "They'll be waking up now," he said. "I know just what they'll do. All of them down in Whoville will all cry!”

----

"What an embarrassment! I've been robbed!" The sheriff of Whoville exclaimed as she rushed out of her house to her car. She climbed in and turned the siren on blissfully unaware of the rope attached to her bumper. She quickly drove off. 

Mayor Anton awoke with a start and suddenly, his bed crashed through the big window in his room with him in it. As Whos came out of their homes they watched as the mayor slid past on his bed. As the sheriff made a turn around the Christmas tree in the middle of town, the Mayor's bed slid around and came to an abrupt stop.  

The sheriff stepped out of her car and stopped as she noticed the mayor. "Mayor May-Who?" 

The mayor quickly jumped out of bed and pulled on his robe that was luckily still attached to the bed. He looked around noticing the damage. He frowned. "I wonder who could have done this," he said as he noticed Emile and their family come into view. "I'll tell you one thing: Invite the Grinch destroy Christmas." He raised his hands and beat on his bed. "Invite the Grinch destroy Christmas!!" He paused to take a breath and Emile frowned. "But did anyone, anyone listen to me?" 

"I did!" The mayor's assistant piped in but the mayor ignored him. 

"No. You choose to listen to a little not-to-be-taken-seriously child. And they haven't even grown into their nose yet." Anton shook his head. "Emile, I hope you're very proud of what you have done." With that, the mayor turned around. 

Emile frowned and looked down as tears welled in their eyes. 

"If they aren't, then I am!” 

Mayor Anton turned around to see Patton, Emile's dad, and Logan, their father had stepped in front of them. "What?" He asked, not sure if he had heard correctly. 

"I said, if they aren't, then I am. I'm glad he took our presents."

Who's around all gasped as the Mayor gawked at them. "You're glad? He's glad!" The mayor shouted to the crowd. "You're glad that everything is gone.? You're glad the Grinch virtually wrecked…? No, no. Not wrecked, pulverized Christmas. Is that really what I'm hearing?" 

Patton sighed. "You can't hurt Christmas, Mr. Mayor. It's not about the gifts, or contests or the fancy lights." He turned and gestured to Emile who's face showed hopefulness. 

"That's what Emile has been trying to tell everybody. "

The mayor blinked. "What is wrong with you!?! This is a child!" 

Patton pulled Emile close against his side. "They're my child. They happen to by right by the way." Patton turned towards his family. "I don't need anything more for Christmas than what's right here, my family."

The Who's all erupted into cheers and began telling each other Merry Christmas. Emile smiled brightly. They finally understood. Logan grabbed a hold of Patton's robe. "Merry Christmas honey!" He yanked Patton into a kiss. Missy and Pranks covered their mouths like they were going to be sick as they moved away from their parents. 

"Give me a break!" The mayor cried out as he turned away. 

Meanwhile, Emile was looking up at Mount Crumpit before they moved to find a garbage chute. "No one should be alone on Christmas," they whispered as the hit the side and started their ride to the top of the mountain. 

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Everything Taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @maryann-draws

The Emo Who Stole Christmas Taglist: @logical-princey @mostpeopleannoyne

May I suggest listening to this song as mom or you know @ icequeenoriginal showed it to me saying this is how extra Roman is singing the song and I quite agree.

[celticvampriss]

The Four Rules of Trost

(Not sure why I decided to write this, but it was partly inspired by a post I read recently on Fairies and names and also in part from a book I started and never finished.  It’s been so long since I’ve posted anything I basically forgot how this works. Anyway...

Jeankasa: Fairy AU (For the Fairytale Weekend)

He was an idiot, honestly, with a knack for trouble and a big mouth.  All his life the warnings were drilled into his head.  He could recite the Four Rules of Trost--a quaint village lost in a lush wilderness, you’ve never heard of it--in his sleep.  They were nursery rhymes and ghost stories.  The Four Rules were etched into wood and engraved into metal.  A little decoration in every home adorned with flowers and vines--A Happy Home Abides the Four Rules of Trost.

Rule One: never stray from the path.

Not that it mattered, there was no where to go.  The woods were too dense, the trees too giant, the wilderness too massive.  Sure, travelers had ventured off beyond the town’s borders, beyond the great lake for fishing or the ten miles or so used for hunting trails, but none returned.  (Why would they?  Jean had often wondered if they were asking themselves the right questions.  Were these travelers consumed by the nightmares of the Fairy Lands or did they just have the good sense not to come back?)

Either way, Jean never left the path.  Maybe a foot, as a dare, but that was a right of passage for kids in Trost.  See how far you can go before you got scared and Jean would not be called chicken by the Jeager boy, not a chance.  So he had set a single boot off the path.  The wind had nearly blown in him over, tearing his coat clear over his head to cover his eyes, and the sounds--such other-worldly shrieks that sent chills down his back.

Rule Two: Never, ever stray from the path at night, in fact, stay inside if at all possible

This rule was harder to follow, but the only one that had a bit of leniency.  A pressing chore or server sickness might mean you left your house at night, but you sure as shit stayed on the path.  Jean never tested this rule, expect for one single time when necessity sent him out of doors after the sun had set.  His mother had been so awfully sick and the doctor was three miles away.  Armed with a rake, a lantern as a shield, Jean had set out into the darkness to fetch him.

That was the first time he saw one, a Fae.  There were all sorts magical what-not in the woods--that was the reason for the Rules, better to be safe when a small human village finds itself in the midst of a Faery Wood--but the Fae were the worst.  Tricky, mischievous spirits with no sense of right or wrong.  Curse your entire family for five generations?  Sure, why not, it’s Tuesday.  Fix your horse’s lame leg?  Fine, just bring me the hair of your first born.  

Over time, Trost had learned it was best to avoid Fae entirely.  Which brings me to 

Rule Three: Do Not Talk To The Fae

Now, Jean was twelve, precocious, stubborn, and a bit of an idiot.  So when he saw her--just past his little bubble of lantern light, just off the path, engulfed in shadows, eyes gleaming in the beams of moonlight breaking the canopy--it took every ounce of willpower in his twelve year old body to turn his head forward and keep walking.

She followed, slowly, lazily.  Like he was a frog she spotted and decided to follow back to its pond.  He would glance without turning his head and there she was, watching, silent.  But he was twelve and, yeah, Fae were supposed to be “possessed of an ethereal beauty” but what the elders didn’t tell you was that they were hot.  

So try as he might, he was a hormonal boy, so he kept glancing.  More than he should if he were only afraid--which he was, to clarify, terrified.  

“You can look if you like, there is no harm in a look,” she said, voice like magic--he swore he could taste it--and then he tripped.

Jean scrambled to catch his lantern, praying under his breath that it remained lit, and trembling when she stepped into its light.

She had stood just off the path, radiant in the glow, hair black as the night and face set in a serious sort of scowl.  

“You’re afraid,” She said, almost like a question, then she looked away, “You’re all afraid.”

Jean had sat in the dirt, thankfully struck dumb and incapable of breaking Rule Three.  But it was looking that did all the harm.  Because she was clearly Fae, clearly powerful, clearly terrifying, but also...sad.  Her scowl, her eyes, they were...heavy.  Like she had known more horror than happiness.  

Then he did something truly stupid, he empathized.  He felt sorry for her, felt her loneliness, her sorrow, and was genuinely grieved for whatever she had endured to put that grief in her eyes.  

But the moment was fleeting, because she was gone before he could break Rule Three and with her leaving his wits returned.  His mother was sick and he had a mission, there was a reason he was out after nightfall.

And that was that.  He dreamed of the Fae girl for months, years.  He thought about her in passing moments, but time lessened the intensity of those thoughts.  

But then he turned eighteen and did the truly idiotic.  He broke the fourth Rule, which everyone knew to be the most severe.

Rule Four: Do Not GIVE A FAE YOUR NAME

Eighteen and angry.  Angry because a small village with no travelers or tourists left one a bit suffocated.  He felt caged, constricted, which was insane because he didn’t know that anything else existed.  All he knew was that the life he’d been dealt felt wrong and stifling.  Restlessness settled in his spirit.  A longing for something he couldn’t name or understand.  Which was the worst sort.  He couldn’t even properly dream of ‘other’ because to a small village cut off by a sea of magical monster trees the only ‘other’ was the very possibly deadly unknown.

And this frustration had burrowed into his heart for a few years.  While the kids his age were doing their village thing--becoming farmers or merchants or parents--he was left brooding and annoyed.  Which made him so very reckless and so very, very stupid.

Twigs and leaves snapped and crunched beneath his boots as Jean worked the little used hunting trails on the outer most limits of their village.  It was starting to get overgrown, but still definitely a path.  His toes caught on rocks and he accidentally startled a squirrel that kicked up a flurry of dead leaves as it scurried up a nearby tree.

In other words, he wouldn’t be catching anything that day.  Instead his bow was slung on his back, not even in hand, and he stomped his frustration into the dirt.  At least the outer trails offered some sense of thrill.  Their low traffic made it difficult to recognize their course and he would find himself searching from the log of a fallen tree cutting the path in two.  But he always found it, for it was always there in the dirt, and so the risk was not that great.  

Jean hopped from the fallen tree--a giant, that appeared to have been beaten by a round of unlucky lightening strikes--and as his feet landed, his eyes caught movement.

At first he reached for his bow, considering that he might have gotten lucky and a very unwise deer had ignored his noisy wandering and come too close, but then he realized that was not the case.  

She was there.  In the day light, autumn wind catching the ends of her black hair, and eyes staring through him.  

And he was too unhappy to fight the recklessness in his soul.  For first, he broke Rule Three.

“It’s you,” He said, hoping she would recognize him.

Her nod was a victory and he savored that elation as he reminded his feet to stay put.

“Are you feeling better?”  He asked, though he didn’t think she was, for she looked exactly the same.

But her eyes narrowed in curiosity and her head tilted, “What do you mean?  Better from what?”

He shrugged.  “I don’t know, I guess.”

“I had a feeling you’d talk to me,” she said, “But you realize it’s against the Rules.”

The Fae knew about the Rules?  Figures.  “Yeah, I know.  I think I’m beyond caring at this point.  Besides, I get the feeling you won’t hurt me.”

“I may.  I may not.  Hurt can mean so many things.”

“Fair, I guess.”  He scratched at his head, finally tearing his eyes from her face.  He looked at the path and suddenly all those warnings went off in his head.  This was a very stupid idea.  He shouldn’t have opened his mouth.  He started to turn away from her, to walk back toward the safety of Trost, “Look, I gotta get home.  I just...” He stopped, he turned back to her, just for a second, “I wanted to say I hope you find happiness.  I doubt I will, but you seem like the type who deserves a bit of good in their life.  I hope you get it.”  He gave her an awkward wave.  “Bye.”

But she was fast, insanely fast, and she was ahead of him.  Not on the path, obviously, but near it.

“Why would you say that?”

“What?  Did I offend you?”  He wrung his hands through his hair, “Oh shit.  I’ve offended a Fae.  Please don’t curse me.”

“Quiet,” She said, and his jaw snapped shut.  “I am not going to curse you.  I simply...I only wish to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Why?  How?  You have seen me once, yet you speak like you have intimate knowledge of my past.  And...you are kind.”  She huffed, clearly frustrated.  “Humans hate and mistrust the Fae.  Why would you wish me well?”

Jean honestly didn’t know.  He said what felt right, he didn’t think about it.  “Look, I can’t give you any sort of insightful answer.  I don’t know you, I just know that when I look at you...I guess it’s like I can see your misery and I hate it.  Especially now, cause it looks a little like mine.”

“Like yours?”

“The loneliness.  I get that.  I may not really know trauma, my past has been pretty sheltered and uneventful, but my present is...shit.  Or I feel shitty, at least.  Like I don’t belong here.  Like I want more than what I have.  Which is wrong, I know, but it’s how I feel.  I don’t even know if there is anything beyond the woods.  No one does.  But I may be tempted...”  He bit his lip, thinking better of his comments.  He may have entertained a fantasy or two of venturing out past the woods, but it was only a fantasy.

She was silent for a long time.  He was beginning to feel like he’d done something wrong.  Well, aside from the obvious talking to her in the first place.

“Do you really want to see the Woods?”

Jean shivered.  His gut screamed.  He took a step back.  “Why?”

“Because I know what’s in the wood and beyond.”

“Yeah, but...humans don’t ever come back from that.”

“Maybe they don’t want to,” She said, and he couldn’t hold in the laugh.

“That’s exactly what I thought.”  She was putting him at ease again, which was dangerous.  “Wait, but how do I know you’re not just leading me to my death? Those people could have all died.  We don’t know.”

“Oh, they died,” She said, tone even, “You need permission to walk through the Fae Wood.  And magic.  They didn’t have it.”

“O...kay.  Then why in the hell would I follow you?  They all died.  You just confirmed it.”

She held out her hand, “I can give you permission.”

Jean paused.  He considered it.  Which was insane.  He needed to run.  Turn around and run home and never leave his house again.  He couldn’t be trusted.  But that is not what he did.

“What will it cost me?”

She smiled, for the first time, “Only your name.  Will you give me your name?”

Some stored away vault in his brain tried to remind him about Fae and their tricky wording, but it was no use.  He was too busy being very reckless.

See, instinct can be a funny thing.  While, Jean knew he should be running scared, that is not what felt right.  He was a slave to honesty, brutal or otherwise.  Idiotic or otherwise.  And he honestly trusted her.  

“I give you my name and you can help me leave?  See more than just the village?”

“For a start.”

While he stood there and considered, a part of him had already made the decision.  It had been made when he saw her on the path.  It had been made seven years ago when he was twelve and he saw more than Fae.  

He was an idiot, honestly, with a knack for trouble and a big mouth.  

“My name is Jean.”

And the magic was sealed.  For to give a Fae your name was to give them power over you.  And her wording had been precise.  But it was a magic that could work both ways.  

“You going to give me your name?”

“Mikasa.”

He smiled.  And then he broke Rule One.  He stepped off the path.  And all was quiet.  He was free.

For when Fae and human have power over each other, they are equal.  

[rantingwriter]

Scenario where the Uncrowned Kings come home to find their kid(s) and s/o created a pillow fort

(Tried to keep them the same length, but I got carried away with the last one. Oh well, enjoy!)

Teppei: Friday, the start of the weekend and a much needed break for old iron heart. His boss was even nice enough to let him go home early. His smile shines bright as he drives straight home and pushes open the front door. “Honey? Kids? I’m home!” He hears the cheers of his little ones and before he can blink they are attached to his legs. 

“How was work?” You smile and press a loving kiss to his lips. 

“Tiring, but I’m home now.” He sets his bag on the ground near the shoe wrack and picks up both kids. “And what have you three been up to?”

“We made a secret base!” His son proclaims proudly, his little girl smacking him in the arm.

“It’s not a secret anymore!” The two try to wrestle each other, but to no avail as Teppei keeps the two apart.

“Am I not allowed in the secret base?” He playfully pouts, his daughter quick to throw her arms around his neck.

“You can daddy, you just need the password!” 

“It’s pumpernickel,” his son whispers into his ear. 

“My idea,” you smile and direct the way to the ‘secret base’ which is a well made pillow fort. He sets the little tykes down and watches them crawl in to grant him access. 

“Password?” They ask in unison and he plays along with them. 

“Pumpernickel,” you giggle and repeat the word, the two of you crawl your way in. Well, more accurately you crawl in, he has to keep his legs out to lay comfortably in the slightly cramped fort. “Looks great, very soft,” the children giggle and start to talk at the same time about different things. Oh yeah, this is going to be a lovely break from the daily grind. 

Kotaro: He nearly face-plants on the floor as he finally enters the house. It’s weird for him to feel this exhausted, but training really wore him out today. He didn’t even have the energy to voice he is home. He trudges into the living room, to find a pile of pillows in the middle of the room. His curiosity gets the better of him as he crouches near the plush palace. “Anyone home?” 

“Dad!” A little hand shoots out between two pillows, he pokes it and makes the source giggle. “Hold on I’ll let you in, but shhh mom is napping.” A single cushion falls and he crawls in to the small fort. Sure enough you are on your side fast asleep. “Mama helped, but I did most of the building.” The small child puffs his chest out in pride. 

“Looks awesome, how about we have a little treat?” The small boy grins and carefully climbs out of the little structure. “Go ahead and pull the you-know-what out of the fridge.” The mini him runs off to pull the secret tub of ice cream from the freezer. It gives Kotaro a chance to press a warm kiss to your forehead. “He wore you out today, huh?” 

“Yep, but it’s fine.” You crack an eye open and smirk at your husband. “Now, what is this treat you two mentioned?” He sweatdrops and lets loose a breathy chuckle. 

“Come on, you were going to find it sooner or later.” He helps you out of the pile and walks into the kitchen to find your son stuffing his face with the frozen treat already. 

“That’s why he gets so hyper when I’m not around.” You lightly elbow the man next to you. 

“Would you like some?” He pulls two spoons, and you gladly take the second one. The three of you enjoying the sweet treat, while the young boy babbles on and on about his day.

Reo: The first thought in his head as he looks over the pile is ‘oh dear, what a mess’. He couldn’t find any rhyme or reason to the structure and he couldn’t find you or his daughter either. “I guess I better clean this up…”

“No!” A familiar shriek of protest hits the tall mans ears. A mischievous grin creeps up onto his face. 

“Since no one is here to stop me, I better start tearing this little fort down.” He pulls one pillow off the top, his daughter quick to stick her head through the opening it created. 

“I said no daddy!” She pouts as he snickers.

“Sorry Princess, I couldn’t resist playing the big, bad wolf.” He winks at her, the reference to her favorite bed time story is all it takes to change her tune.

“You aren’t doing it right, you have to huff and puff and blow the house down!” 

“Oh? So, I huff…” he breaths in, “and puff,” his chest puffs out. “And blow the house down!” He pushes it over and exhales at the same time.

“Hey!” You grunt as your daughter and her pillow fort falls full force onto you. 

“Oops, sorry dear…” Reo cringes as you sit up in the middle of the wreckage. 

“You are going to rebuild this,” you give your husband a small smirk. “It’s only fair Mr. Big Bad Wolf,” your daughter giggles gleefully at the continued reference to the age old story. 

“Up daddy up!” She holds her arms up and Reo obliges without a word. He holds the little girl up in the air, while you rise from the decimated fort. 

“If you two aren’t going to rebuild it, you are going to clean it up.” You poke his side and head into the kitchen for a drink. 

“Yes, dear.” He sets the little one down and she instantly picks up the cushions to set her little fort back up. A little mess of pillows is well worth the bright smile she wears. 

Nebuya: He knew the moment he stepped over the threshold, something was amiss. Three children has made him wary of silences, they are his kids after all they are naturally loud. He keeps his eyes peeled for traps and/or a mess that requires a great deal to clean. Instead he spots a massive, seriously massive, stack of pillows and cushions. Probably every pillow in the house if it has reached this size. “Oh? Sweetie, you are home early.” He turns to find you with a tray of snacks and water bottles. 

“What is that?” He points to the carefully, constructed pile. 

“The kids worked together to make a little fort, I didn’t have to help them at all.” You are rather proud of the results, “I was just grabbing them a little nourishment.” You approach the fort and click your tongue in a rhythmic fashion. 

“Proceed!” Three voices answer in near unison. A blanket pulled back for you to crawl inside. “Cookies!” Nebuya crouches down and revels the rather large interior. “Dad, come on in! It’s suppose to be boys only, but mom has the secret code.” You roll your eyes as you sip your water. 

“You boys made this?” He is still trying to wrap his head around the fact they are not destroying something. 

“Yup, my idea, those two did the floor and walls, I made the ceiling.” Your oldest proudly proclaims. The other two simply nod along, too busy with their cookies to protest their brothers story. 

“Good job,” Your husband chills in the doorway to avoid knocking his broad, physique into something. You smile and keep the fact you recommended the activity to yourself. The sight of the three working together on something creative is enough for you. 

“Now, time to wreck it!” The three suddenly cheer, your face falling in an instant as they kick the walls down. 

“That’s my boys,” Nebuya sighs as he pulls you out of the tumbling fortress. 

Hanamiya: He felt unusually grumpy today, maybe it was all the bullcrap at work, or the traffic that hindered his trek home. Whatever the reason, he was not in the mood to see the giant pile of cushions in the living room. “Alright, now lace the blanket through.” Your voice invades his ears as you direct his twin boys through the process of making a door. The giggles of his little girl fill the air around your instructions. 

“What the hell is all this?” You flinch at the tone he used, a small presence of venom in the question instantly sets you on edge. He is scary when he is mad.

“H-Hi Sweetie…” You stand slowly as your children peer out of the half made fort. “How was work?” 

“Awful,” his curt answer only strengthens the nervous feeling in your gut. He looks like he did back in high school when things didn’t go his way. He mellowed out back in college, but he still had those days where his harsh attitude prevailed over his usual calm. He never gets violent, but you hate it when he yells in front of the kids. Venting his frustrations mostly, his filter completely off when he does. He has never yelled at the kids, unless they needed a good scolding, and he always checks with you first to ensure he isn’t overreacting.   

“Dada, ford?” Your daughter toddles over to the grumpy man and stumbles on her own shaky feet. Her tiny hands catch on his slacks and you can’t stop the gasp that leaves your throat. He glares at the toddler and roughly picks her up, her fingers in her mouth as she stares into his smoldering gaze. His features quickly melt into a tired smile as he brings the small girl to his chest. He can’t stay mad, especially when his kids are in the equation. 

“Sure, I’ll help with the fort,” you hear the twins quietly cheer behind you as the fear slowly leaves your body. He sets the little one down and watches her crawl back into the fort in progress. 

“I’m going to talk to dad for a minute, we’ll be right back.” The twins simply nod and continue their work while their sister watches. You pull your husband into the kitchen, just out of earshot of the kids. “You alright?” He nods and pulls you in for a firm hug, his body leaning a great deal onto you for support. 

“Long day…” You rub his back and sigh in relief that he is back to normal. “I’m not cleaning that pile up though.” You chuckle and pull back enough to look at him.

“I know, mister grumpy pants,” he grunts as you snicker. “Just relax, I got it all under control.” 

“Good…sorry about earlier…” he mumbles his apology, knowing full well he shouldn’t have snapped at you. You stand on your toes and give him a quick peck on the cheek. 

“It’s alright, no harm done.” He scoffs and releases you from his embrace. 

“Please, you were scared sh-” You smack the top of his head with a wooden spoon. His attitude stowed instantly, with another apology. 

“Come on mom/dad!” The twins call for both of you to return and he can’t help the small smile, tugging at his lips. 

“Can’t keep them waiting…mister grumpy pants.” He chases you into the living room and half tackles you into the fort. Successfully destroying the entrance, they just finished. 

“Ugh, daaaaad,” the twins groan while small hands grab at your face. 

“I’ll fix it,” he sits up with one arm around your waist, muttering into your ear as you pick up your daughter. “We’ll continue this later,” he nips your ear playfully. His mood ten times better than it was minutes ago. Nothing like a little family time to turn that frown upside down. 

[raywritesthings]

If They Knew Sweet Little You 1/7

My Writing Fandom: Doctor Who Characters: Donna Noble, Wilfred Mott, Sylvia Noble, Tenth Doctor Pairing: Doctor/Donna Summary: Donna's dull, regular life is turned upside-down thanks to an incident from the past she can no longer remember. AO3 link  

Two months. It had been just over two months since Donna had woken up on her bed in her clothes to learn the world had gone mad talking about planets in the sky. Well, of course they were in the sky. Where else were they supposed to be? On land?

It had only taken a few days for people to settle down and things to go back to normal. But Donna found she couldn’t settle as easily.

She wasn’t working and didn’t think she had been for a while, so there was nothing to do during the day. Her friends texted her, but it took until Veena mentioned she’d told them all she was busy lately for her to realize they hadn’t been inviting her out, so she had nothing to do at night. That probably explained why her bank account still looked decent despite her having no job.

Yet every time Donna sat down at her laptop to check her email or the temp agency, she found her attention wandering, and she never actually got around to it. The same with when she would try to muster up to energy to call up her friends and schedule something. She didn’t know what it was, but neither of those things seemed to hold the same appeal they once did.

Everything just felt off somehow. She couldn’t put a finger on it or even try to explain it, but it left her feeling not very good. And then sort of queasy. And then that queasiness had her hauling herself out of bed one morning to stick her head in the toilet and empty her stomach.

God, what had she eaten last night? Donna drank a lot of water and nibbled on some crackers, then went on a long walk around the neighborhood to avoid her mum’s dinner. She didn’t want a repeat of that morning, that was for sure.

But it happened again the next morning anyway. Donna crawled back under the covers and pulled them up over her head, trying to ignore the stale taste in her mouth or the slight pain in her throat.

Figured. She could sit in offices year round perfectly healthy while people sneezed and hacked up who knew what germs all around her, but as soon as she took a bit of time for herself that’s when it all caught up. Her mum would probably be on her about her loafing in no time. She’d have to start searching for a new position in earnest now.

That was, once she’d gotten over this flu or whatever it was.

—-

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I assure you this is no joke, Donna. The test was conclusive. You’re pregnant.”

Donna Noble gaped at old Doctor Simmons. Her family had been seeing him for ages, and a part of her wondered if it was high time he thought about retirement because he was obviously completely senile.

“I’m what?”

“Pregnant. I’d say about two months along.”

Donna had half a mind to ask if he’d been put up to this. “Can I get a second opinion?”

“You can, but they’ll tell you the same thing I just did.”

“Then I’ll get a third or a fourth or however many it takes! Doctor Simmons, you don’t understand,” she said. “Me being pregnant, that’s — well it’s just not possible.”

Doctor Simmons shook his head with a knowing smile. “Now, you don’t need to put up any pretense, Donna. I’m not here to judge the choices my patients make, only to help them be as healthy as possible while making them.”

“No, but I didn’t make this choice.”

“Well, accidents happen,” he remarked with a shrug. “If you’re worried about how the father will take it, I’d be perfectly happy to meet with you both. I’ll even help you with your mother, if you like.”

“No,” said Donna again, more forcefully this time. “You don’t understand. There is no father. I haven’t had sex in — well, long enough to not be pregnant now! I don’t even remember having an ‘accident’!”

The smile slipped from his face. “You don’t?”

Donna shook her head. “No.”

There was a lot Donna didn’t really remember, truthfully, of which she might have explained to Doctor Simmons if he hadn’t blindsided her with this. Like what she’d done for her birthday this year or why Lance had left her and why she’d gone off to Egypt straight after.

She got headaches now, too, just sometimes. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to them; she might be watching bees buzz around the flowers in the garden or children at play in the park or pass a man on the street with really nice brown eyes — and then it hit, and she’d be useless all the rest of the day.

Donna couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a temp position, either, but rather than nag her about that her mother had found her emptying her stomach into the toilet three mornings ago and suggested she go see the doctor. Well, her specific words had been, “Go and see Simmons. It’s been ages since your last appointment.” Her mum avoided the word doctor like the plague lately, come to think of it.

So she’d gone and done her best to answer all the questions. Yes, she’d been eating properly. No, she didn’t really exercise much — imagine her shock when the nurse had told her she’d dropped half a stone! Yes, she was getting enough sleep. No, she couldn’t recall when her last cycle had started or ended.

Donna had wondered if that was it; her body clock had timed out early, and she’d missed her chance. That’d be just her luck. But here it turned out to be a different story entirely, and one that could only be fantasy!

Doctor Simmons was watching her now and seemed to be considering very carefully what to say next. “If you truly have no recollection of the intercourse that could have led to conception, it might be wise to run some additional tests. For your health.”

“Oh, my God.” Donna pressed both hands to her temples. “This can’t be happening.” What had she done, had a drunken shag in the bathroom of some pub? She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d chatted a stranger up much less slept with one. “What am I gonna do?”

“Alright, let’s not panic. I’m going to send you home with some antenatal vitamins to start taking. You come back in at the end of the week. We’ll run those tests and see what we find, if anything.” He reached out and patted her knee. “Motherhood is an exciting journey, Donna — for some more so than others.”

Motherhood. She was going to be a mum. She really was. And she had no idea how she’d managed it.

Neither did Veena or Susie Mair or even Nerys when she phoned them each in turn. Not that she told them what it was about of course.

“Veena, when’s the last time we’ve been out for drinks? About two months ago?”

“Nah, it’s been way longer,” said her friend on the other end of the line. “You were out sight-seeing or something a couple months back, weren’t you? We’ll have to go out now, you can tell me all about it.”

“Er, yeah, maybe some other time.” Donna got off the phone without making any commitments. Wasn’t like she could go out for drinks any time soon anyway!

No one she talked to could confirm any type of funny business, not even when she went round to all the usual spots. Mostly they just kept saying it was good to see her again.

Oh God, had she gone off somewhere else and been drugged and knocked up?

With nothing to tell Doctor Simmons, she nevertheless needed to make sure it wasn’t just a baby she’d been stuck with.

“Mum, I need the car. Going in to see the doctor — Doctor Simmons, I mean,” she felt the strangest need to clarify.

“What are you going back for so soon?” Her mother asked from the kitchen. “There’s not something wrong, is there?”

“No,” Donna lied. “Just a follow-up.”

As she sat in traffic, she wondered not for the first time what she was going to do. There was only so long she could keep this from her family. Donna cringed just picturing the disappointment on her mother’s face and the ‘I warned you’ speech that was sure to follow. Gramps would be worried, she supposed, but he’d at least be kind about it. At the moment, Donna didn’t have the energy to try and imagine how anyone else would take it. As if she wasn’t already the biggest failure in Chiswick.

A week after the tests, Donna went back in again. “I have some good news,” Doctor Simmons told her. “You’re clean. You haven’t contracted anything.”

“Yeah, except a baby,” Donna remarked.

He didn’t laugh. “Yes, well, Donna...I think it is best that we discuss your options going forward. Being that this pregnancy appears to be the result of a non-consensual sexual encounter —”

“I’m keeping it,” said Donna before he could finish. “I don’t care how it happened — I mean, I care but I- I’ve always wanted to be a mum. And this is probably the best shot I’ve got.”

It wasn’t the worst way it could have happened. At least she hadn’t resorted to a turkey baster like Nerys. Was she upset her child wasn’t going to have a father? Yes. Did she worry how that would affect it growing up? Absolutely. But if she just had a chance to give her baby all the love and support she’d missed out on in life, wouldn’t it be enough? Wouldn’t it make all this worth it?

Doctor Simmons was favoring her with a pitying look, but all he said was, “If that is your choice, then you have my full support.”

“Yeah, speaking of, if you see my mum or Gramps around, would you mind not mentioning this? I haven’t figured out how to tell them yet.”

“Of course. If you need any assistance in that regard, please let me know.”

She left Doctor Simmons’ office with a referral to an OBGYN and a problem to consider: how was she going to break the news to her family?

Briefly, Donna entertained the idea of taking up a new temp job across town, renting out a cheap flat, and avoiding her mother for the rest of her natural life. But that wouldn’t stop her hearing it from someone else. And how would she make it on her own as a single mum with work and a baby? She needed her family, if they’d still have her once they found out.

So it was time to fess up. She couldn’t go on making up excuses for appointments and hiding the antenatal vitamins under her pillow.

If she was lucky, her grandad would be the only one home when she got back, and she could run it by him first. Gauge a reaction.

This would be so much easier if she just knew who’d gotten her this way. It wasn’t likely they’d end up a family together if they’d seemingly only had that one forgotten encounter, but at least she’d have options in case her mum kicked her out of the house tonight!

—

Wilfred Mott was worried about his granddaughter. But he’d been that way ever since she came home. Was brought home.

He knew it had been the only way to save her life, and for that he’d always be thankful. But Wilf couldn’t help wishing there was something else the Doctor could do for their girl so she’d have her memories back. That wonderful alien was so clever.

Only now he was gone for Donna’s safety, and that was the worst bit. No man had ever treated Donna as well as the Doctor had. She’d practically been glowing the last few times they’d come round the house together, and Wilf didn’t think he could recall her being happier, not even in the run-up to that wedding with that Lance fellow or whichever his name was. He missed watching the two of them run about stopping alien invasions, making each other laugh.

He thought Donna missed the Doctor, too, in her own way. She came up on the hill with him infrequently, staring up at the stars she’d lost and looking so sad. Sometimes she just sat at a window, mind far away with her arms wrapped around her middle as if in a hug.

She’d been practically listless the last couple months. The occasional headache here or there, but they’d gotten a handle for the most part on what triggered them. When Sylvia had found her being sick in the bathroom, however, she’d badgered Donna into a checkup.

“What if she caught some disease out there, dad?” His daughter had fretted.

“Oh, Sylvia, I’m sure it’s alright.” After all, it had been over two months; surely there would have been a sign before now?

Donna had come home from the appointment just as quiet and withdrawn as before but saying that nothing was wrong. Then she went back for a second appointment, and a third.

“She’ll tell us when she’s ready,” he said to an increasingly panicked Sylvia, though he couldn’t help hoping Donna would feel ready soon.

That afternoon, he was doing some of the washing up before dinner to make room in the kitchen for Sylvia. The front door opened and shut, and when no one called out he thought he could guess which of his girls had gotten back first. “Donna? That you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” A couple moments later she was shuffling into the room and dropping into a chair at the table. “Where’s mum?”

“Still out. Won’t be back for another hour at least.” Wilf turned off the faucet and reached for a towel to dry his hands. When he turned around, Donna had hers folded on her lap and was biting her lip. “Something the matter?”

She looked up at him. “Gramps, there’s something I’ve got to tell you. And you’re gonna have some questions, but I honestly don’t know the answers to them, so I’m sorry.” She looked away again. “God, you’re gonna be so ashamed of me.”

“Ashamed of you?” He echoed. “Never.” She cracked just the slightest smile at that. He crossed the room and took a seat as well. “I’m sure it can’t be all bad. What is it?”

Donna hesitated. “Well, I — I’m pregnant.”

Wilf nearly fell out of his chair. “Pregnant?”

She shushed him despite them being the only two home. “Yes. Getting closer to three months now.”

“Oh. Oh dear.” He looked her up and down. She wasn’t showing yet, but he supposed she wouldn’t be. Of all the things he’d been worried about! “But- but when? How?”

“That’s the thing. I really don’t know. And it’s not because I can’t decide whose it is.” She shrugged with a tired, “There’s just no one.”

Wilfred didn’t know what to say. “You’re sure?”

Donna groaned and put her head in her hands. “Please, Gramps, this is already embarrassing enough without going over the details of my sexual history with you.”

He supposed she had a point. “What’re you gonna tell your mother?”

“I dunno. I could let her carry on thinking I was just getting fatter for a while, couldn’t I?”

“Oh, Donna.”

Donna looked up, a real fear in her eyes. “She’s gonna kill me for this, Gramps. We both know it.”

“She wouldn’t.” He wished his protest sounded more sincere.

Dinner that night started off an uncomfortable affair. On one side was Sylvia, forcing herself to keep from asking Donna about the latest doctor’s appointment; on the other was Donna, so very reluctant to break the news.

After fifteen minutes of stilted conversation ranging from the topics of the weather to what Suzette had bought at the shops that day, enough was enough. “Sylvia, love, Donna’s got something she wants to say.” He gave his granddaughter an encouraging smile and watched her draw in a deep breath.

“Mum, the reason I’ve been going in for all these appointments — well, I’m not sick, if that’s what you were worried about.” She paused, and Wilf reached across the table to take her hand. He felt Donna squeeze it tightly once before saying, “I’m pregnant.”

Sylvia’s fork dropped onto her plate with a clatter. “Pregnant? Since when? How?”

“Going on three months, and I don’t know. Look, I only found out myself the beginning of this month.”

“Who’s the father?”

“I don’t know,” Donna repeated.

“Well, how can you not know —”

“Because I don’t remember it happening!” Donna stood with such force her chair was knocked over. “I haven’t been seeing anyone. None of the girls have had anything to tell me, either, so I guess you can call me the bloody Virgin Mary because this baby didn’t get here any other way!”

“You, a virgin? That’s the day I’ll believe in miracles,” Sylvia scoffed.

“Oh, Sylvia, don’t,” Wilf began.

“No, it’s fine,” said Donna. “I knew you being weirdly nice to me lately was just a fluke.” She glared at her mother. “Go ahead, tell me you told me so. Tell me this is all my fault. I know it is, but it’ll make you feel better, won’t it?”

Sylvia looked between them both, eyes wide and face incredibly pale. “Donna, it’s not — you’re important to me, and I just don’t want to see —”

“Yeah, well, if you don’t want to see it, I’ll just pack and be off in the morning.”

Wilfred watched her storm upstairs in dismay, then turned back to Sylvia.

“Well, am I supposed to pretend to be pleased?” His daughter defended before he could even speak. “She’s got no job, no prospects.”

“I know all that. But, love, you can’t blame her for it. She can’t remember.” He stressed the last two words, hoping it conveyed their significance.

Sylvia looked at him sharply. “You think it happened while she was off — out there?”

He shrugged. “It’s the only explanation that makes any sense. Look, she’s been going spare trying to figure it out herself, and she never will. Don’t you think we ought to do all we can to help her instead of making it worse?”

Abruptly, his daughter burst into tears.

Wilf stood and hurried around the table to place his arms around her. “Here now, what’s this?”

“You said she went to other planets and — and met creatures. I mean what if it’s alien, dad?”

“It might not be alien. Could just be someone she met in the future, or the past,” he reasoned.

“Oh, wonderful,” his daughter said. “Good luck for her getting child support, then!”

“She’s got support. She’s got us.”

“She’s got you, you mean.” Sylvia shrugged him off and kept her gaze on the table. “He was right. I don’t say it often enough. Now she doesn’t believe me. My own daughter.” Her eyes squeezed shut. “How did I let that happen?”

Wilfred hung his head. It really wasn’t just her fault. He’d said this or that, tried to intervene, but he could’ve done more; Lord knew Geoffrey had tried, but he just hadn’t had the same authority as his wife. He supposed this day had always been coming, when the damage Sylvia had done finally came home to roost. There was little he could say to deny it was there.

So he placed his hand back on her shoulder. “You just didn’t know how not to be hard on her, that’s all. You knew exactly how you wanted her to grow up, and when she didn’t follow that plan you felt like you’d failed. But you haven’t, Sylvia, you haven’t,” he continued when she choked on a sob. “Why, Donna’s the most important woman in the universe. That’s the daughter you raised. And if she’s gonna be a mum, well, she’s gonna need her own mum now more than ever.”

His daughter had calmed mostly, cries subsiding to sniffles.

“Now, I’ll go and check on her, and you get yourself cleaned up. I’ll put the kettle on for you.” Despite his belief in the best of both his girls, he didn’t think a second conversation between them in one night would go so well with emotions running so high.

Wilf passed through the kitchen to turn on the kettle, then padded up the stairs and down the hall to Donna’s door, which was slightly ajar. Inside, he could hear her crying. He knocked lightly. “Donna?”

The crying cut off with a gasp. A moment later, she called out in a thick voice, “Come in!”

He pushed the door open the rest of the way and walked into the darkened room. She was sitting on the bed, a suitcase half-packed beside her. On her lap was —

“A hat box, I know. Don’t know why I thought I was gonna need one of those.” Her attempt at a smile wavered badly, and she raised a hand to wipe at teary eyes. Wilf stepped forward with his handkerchief held out.

She took it with a soft, “Thanks.”

“That’s alright. Donna, you know your mother doesn’t want you to leave. She just, well, she worries about you, in her own way.”

“I could do with her worrying less, then.” She set the hat box aside with a heavy sigh, then made room for him next to her on the bed. “I’m not going, really. Haven’t anywhere to go.”

Yes, she did, Wilf wanted to say. To the stars. But she couldn’t, and for more reasons than the baby.

“Have you started thinking about names?” He asked instead.

“I’ve only had just about a month,” Donna reminded him. Nevertheless, she humored him. “Let’s see. Wilfred for a boy.”

He chuckled. “Oh no, I know it’s old fashioned.”

“Middle name, then. And for a girl...I don’t know.” Her face took on that faraway look again. “Maybe Jenny. I feel like Jenny would be a good name for a daughter.”

“Jenny Noble,” he said, and he was glad to see Donna come back to herself. She smiled at him, her hand resting over her stomach.

“It’s in the running.”

“You don’t know how proud I am of you,” he told her. Donna scoffed, but he carried right on. “It’s the hardest thing, being a parent, and here you are taking it on on your own.”

“Yeah, I’ve been doing a real bang-up job of it, too.”

“Well, you’ll only get better with time,” he insisted.

Eyes red but dry, she passed him back his handkerchief, which he tucked away.

“Should we get you unpacked?”

“Oh, I’ll just leave it for the morning,” she said. “Exhausted myself earlier with all that.”

“I’ll let you get to bed, then.” He stood and made his way to the door.

“Gramps?” Donna’s call had him pausing, and he turned back around. “Thanks.”

He raised a hand to dismiss it. “No thanks necessary.”

She smiled. “Love you.”

“Love you.” Wilf stepped out into the hall and closed the door. He went back down to the kitchen to find Sylvia must have taken her tea up to bed with her. For the better, really; it was getting late, and he still had one more thing to do. One more person to take care of, since Donna couldn’t anymore.

Wilf pulled on his coat and hiked up the hill. He got out his telescope and set it up, then settled in his chair. Plenty of stars, and even some planets, but no blue box. The same as usual. Wilf wondered if they would ever see it again.

“I hope you’re alright out there. We’re all fine, even if Donna’s been through a bit of a shock. Suppose you wouldn’t know anything about that, though, or you would’ve said.”

It didn’t seem to be affecting her so far as the memories and all that went. She was still safe from burning up, which was the best they could ask for. He wished as ever, of course, that she could simply have her memories back and be fine. It would at least give her less cause for shame over this whole pregnancy.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. In a way, the child was something from those wonderful travels she’d had that she could keep, even if she didn’t realize it.

Wilfred kept up his watch for a while longer, then at last put his things away. He straightened up and snapped off a salute to the stars.

“Goodnight, Doctor. Maybe the next one, eh?”