#the doctor went from being a grandfather just trying to live (and keep his granddaughter happy) to the doctor we know in nuwho?? amazing

[hecatesbroom]

started classic dr who today and i love the implication that the doctor's companions taught them the value of risking their own neck to save people and worlds, rather than the doctor having always been the reckless saviour we see in nuwho. apparently it really was humans who made the doctor humane; no wonder he loves earth so much when its people are the ones who shaped him

[jfridley]

morgan

A week late but this is the last day's prompt (ANYTHING) from @sciencebrosweek

  “Dr. Banner” Friday said.

“Yes Friday” Bruce replied annoyed he was being pulled from his experiment.

“I am sorry for the interruption sir but I have a nurse from county general on the phone for you” the A.I replied.

Bruce frowned “are the boys here?” he asked.

“Yes sir they are upstairs” the A.I answered.

“And Tony?” he asked worriedly.

“Sir is still in his meeting with Director Fury” the A.I assured the man.

Bruce nodded “ok I guess patch this nurse through” he said.

“This is Doctor Banner” he said.

There was hospital background noise before a women began speaking “Yes Doctor Banner my name is Rosie and I am a nurse here at county general. I have a women here in ICU who is asking to speak with you. Her name is Jackie Grey but she says you’ll know her by the last name Vernon” she replied.

Jackie Vernon was a name Bruce hadn’t thought about since he was 17 years old. She was the sweetest girl, his first real friend and his first sort of girlfriend. He left when he was 17 and they had sworn they’d keep in touch as all teenagers do but that never happened. He had no idea why she would be contacting him now.

“Sir are you there?” Rosie asked.

Bruce shook himself out of his thoughts “Yes I am sorry” he apologized. “Why is she wanting to speak with me?” he asked.

The women paused “I am not sure Sir” she replied. “But if you could come today that would be great” she added.

“Why so soon?” he asked.

“Sir I shouldn’t say this but she was fatally wounded in a car accident last night and she doesn’t have long to live” she said quietly.

Bruce glanced around his lab until he found his phone “I will be there in an hour” he said as he hung up.

  *****************************

Bruce was met with the usual bustle and chaos of the compound. The boys were in front of the TV playing a video game with Clint and Sam. Steve was on the couch reading and Bucky was making something in the kitchen.

“Hey Doc” Bucky said glancing over at him.

Bruce smiled “Hey” he said walking over to him. “Anyone have plans today” he asked.

Bucky shrugged and glanced over at the others “I don’t think so” he replied.

Steve shook his head “No plans Bruce Why?” he asked.

 Peter noticed him for the first time “Hey Pop done so soon?” he asked.

Bruce shook his head in amusement “Not really Pete” he said then glanced at Steve.  “I just got a call from County General, an old friend is in ICU and wants to see me” Bruce said. “Can someone keep an eye on Pete and Miles until either Tony or I return?” he asked. 

“Aww pop we can look out for ourselves” Pete whined.

“You mean like last week when I walked in on the two of you about to sled down the stairs?” Natasha asked appearing beside Bruce.

Clint snorted ignoring the glares from his teammates. Natasha rolled her eyes and lightly knocked his head as she walked by. She took a seat at the counter and stole from Bucky’s plate before turning her attention back at Bruce.

“We’ll keep an eye on them for you Bruce” she replied.

“Of course” Steve agreed. “Any idea how long you’ll be out?” he added.

Bruce sighed “No idea” he said.

Sam cleared his throat “How old is this old friend” he asked.

Bruce chuckled “I grew up with her. But I haven’t seen her since we were 17” he said.

Miles snorted “So it’s a really old friend” he quipped elbowing Peter who burst out laughing.

Bruce rolled his eyes trying not to laugh “Har Har” he deadpanned. “Very funny” he added.

Clint laughed “Good one dude” he said high fiving the 8 year old.

Bruce chuckled then glanced at the others “Thanks guys. I’ll text Tony so he doesn’t freak when he gets back”. Then he glanced at the boys “Be good for the others ok? Don’t spend all day in front of that” he added pointing to the TV.

“Ok” both boys and Clint chorused making Bruce snort as he headed for the elevator.

“Wait” Pete yelled as he paused the game and ran and hugged Bruce goodbye-Miles at his heels. “Be safe” the boy mumbled quietly. Bruce smiled and hugged them back.

“I am just visiting a friend in the hospital” he told them. “Dad will be back soon, and you have all of the others here” he reminded them as he tried to straightened Pete’s hair. “Now go beat Clint” he said gently pushing them back toward the others.

He waited until the boys picked up the fallen controllers and started playing again before he left. He sent a text to Tony as the elevator headed to the garage, quickly explaining where he was going. He laughed when Happy was waiting for him as the elevator opened.

“I would have driven myself” Bruce said. “He didn’t have to call you” he added.

*********************

Happy shrugged “Got to earn my keep” he teased.

Bruce tried not to ring his hands as he stood outside the room. He took a few deep breaths and gently knocked on the door. When no one answered he gently pushed the door open and glanced around. There laying in the bed was Jackie, black and blue with tubes and wires everywhere. She had grey hairs and lines but he so did he-granted not as many due to Hulk. Bruce felt eyes on him, blinking himself back and seeing that Jackie was staring at him.

“You came” she whispered.

Bruce cleared his throat “Y-Yeah” he said.

She smiled “Still a man of few words I see” she teased then coughed.

Bruce came over and reached for the water, easing the straw toward her lips. He waited patiently as she sipped slowly and lowered it when she was done.

“Thanks” she whispered. She stared at him with a sad smile “I wish this was on better circumstances” she said.

Bruce nodded, glancing at the surroundings “What happened?” he asked.

“Drunk Driver came across the double line hit Bill and I head on” she said. “Bill is-was my husband. He-He died instantly” she choked up fighting the tears. “They say I am bleeding internally and everything is slowly shutting down” she added.

“That’s terrible. I am so sorry” Bruce replied.

She looked at him then glanced over at the other chair, Bruce followed her gaze and noticed for the first time a little girl curled up under a Hulk blanket.

"That’s Morgan-my granddaughter” she said.

Bruce smiled at her “She’s cute” he said quietly. “How old is she?” he asked.

“Four” she said. “Do you have kids?” she asked.

Bruce nodded “My husband and I adopted a boy Miles 2 years ago and we’ve foster Peter who’s 10 for 3 years now” he said with a smile.

Jackie nodded “That’s what I thought” she said. “Bruce I don’t want Morgan to go to social services” she said. “That’s why I called you-I want you to take her. When I die” she said.

Bruce jumped up “Jackie what are you talking about?” he said. “I can’t just take your child. What about your family?” he asked.

“My parents are dead. Besides you remember my father. All of Bills family are older and Fiona her mother died a year ago” Jackie said.

“Jackie they aren’t going to let some stranger just adopt her” Bruce reasoned.

“No but they will allow her grandfather” Jackie said.

Bruce sat there stunned “What” he said.

“Bruce Morgan is your granddaughter” Jackie said. “I got pregnant with Fiona and had her at 17. She unfortunately followed in my footsteps and had Morgan at 17” she paused when she saw Bruce was freaking out. “Bruce” she said.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE’S MY GRANDDAUGJTER” he whispered yelled jumping up.

“Bruce take a deep breathe” she instructed.

Bruce did as instructed, waiting until he calmed to try and speak again. “How can she be my granddaughter?” he asked as he started to pace.

Jackie blinked at him “Bruce don’t you remember what we did the last time we saw each other?” she said with a laugh. “I know it’s been awhile” she added.

Bruce cocked his head then blushed “Oh course I remember” he said. “But we used protection” he added.

Jackie just smirked at him “Well it didn’t work” she said.

Bruce chuckled and shakenly sat down again. He stared at the young girl then over at Jackie “Why didn’t you ever tell me” he asked.

Jackie sighed “Dad was furious when he found out I was pregnant. He threatened to take Fiona away. I did everything I could to pacify him until I was 18 and could move out. By then I was too busy raising her, being a single mother, but even then I didn’t want to force you into anything. Then I met Bill when Fiona was 5 and we were happy. We lucked out and dad died when Fiona was 8-and I was truly free. Bill and I returned for the funeral and I ran into your aunt. I introduced her to Bill and Fiona, and she mentioned you had a job at Culver then. I decided I needed to tell you-you had the right to know. I drove up there the next day and saw you on the lawn kissing another women-and I lost my nerve. Who was I to walk into your life after all these years and drop this bombshell on you? Bill convinced me to go back the next day and there were cops everywhere. I heard that you had died in some freak lab accident. I felt horrible you were dead and I never had the nerve to tell you” she said pausing to compose herself. “So you can guess my utter surprise when my daughter was flicking through channels a few years ago and there you were stuttering through an interview with the Avengers” she added.

Bruce blinked over at her “Did she know?” he asked.

Jackie smiled “yes she did” she said. “She wanted to meet you. So she and her friends went to some comic con convention and she met you” she said. “She was pregnant at the time and spoke to you about water conservation” she said.

Bruce gasped “I remember that conversation” he said. “How-if you don’t mind-how did she die?” he asked.

Jackie sighed and took Bruce’s hand “She had an aneurism in her sleep. Morgan called me and told me mommy wasn’t waking up and she was hungry. Bill and I rushed over and found her” she paused trying to reach for a tissue.  When she did she knocked over a folder, papers scattered all over the floor. “Bruce could you get those?” she asked.

“Sure” Bruce said and glanced down as he collected the paper. “What is this?” he asked.

Jackie smiled “DNA of Fiona and Morgan and myself” she said. “I know you know what your DNA looks like and I wanted to give you proof that they are yours” she said. “In case you ever need them” she added.

Bruce glanced through the papers and there it was in black and white. DNA never lies. 

“Jackie” Bruce began but she interrupted him.

“Bruce I am sorry” She said. “I feel horrible dropping this on you. But this isn’t her fault-it’s mine. I know I should have told you when I found out I was pregnant. Or at least not chickened out at Culver. But this isn’t about us-it about Morgan. She will have lost all of her family in a years’ time. I want to leave her with a loving safe family” she said.

Bruce snorted “Jackie if you saw that interview you know who I am. Who my husband and family are” he said. “There’s nothing safe about my family. Never has” he said.

“Neither was mine Bruce” Jackie said with a sad smile. “But I can bet every member of your family will do ANYTHING for you and your children am I right?” she said.

Bruce nodded “Yes” he replied.

“In a perfect world I will be going home to my husband and my daughter, not having this conversation at all” Jackie said. “But that’s not what happened and I have to deal with that” she said.

Bruce sighed “I just had a horrible thought” he mumbled.

“What?” Jackie asked.

“”My granddaughter is only 4 years younger than my son” He replied horrified.

“We are from Ohio” Jackie teased.

Bruce looked at Jackie and the two burst out laughing. And for a second they were 17 years old again making fun of the people around them. The laughter must have woke Morgan up because she squeaked as she moved around in the chair.

“Mimi” a groggy voice whispered from the chair.

“Morgan sweetie I want you to meet someone” Jackie said with false brightness.

The girl walked over and looked between her grandmother and Bruce.

“”Up?” the girl asked.

Jackie nodded “very gently” she instructed.

Bruce stood up “mind if I help?” he asked gently.

Morgan looked up at him then nodded “please” she said holding her arms up.

Bruce smiled as he picked her up and laid her next to Jackie. He watched as the girl gently wiggled under the covers and tried to get as close as she could to her grandmother. Jackie and Morgan both had smiles on their faces from the contact.

“Morgan this is Bruce” Jackie said after a few minutes of silence.

“Hi” Morgan said.

“Hi” Bruce answered back.

“Morgan you are going to go live with Bruce, when I go to heaven” Jackie said simply.

Morgan shrank away from him “Mimi” she whimpered.

“I know its scary sweetie” Jackie said. “But Bruce is family. He moved away and we haven’t seen him in a long time but now he’s back” she said. “So you will move in with him, he has two boys and a big family that live with him” she paused to catch her breath.

“Do you have any girls?” Morgan asked.

Bruce shook his head “Well none that are close to your age. But yes there are girls in my house” he said.

Jackie looked over “I love you sweetie” she said. Then she looked at Bruce “I guess I do get to go home to my husband and child” she whispered, Bruce watched as the heart monitor flat lined.

*******************

Tony was pacing the length of the living room for the hundredth time that night.

“Tony” Sam said. “You are leaving a tread” he said as he glanced at the carpet.

“At least change direction” Natasha replied, eyes never leaving her book.

“I just don’t understand what is taking him so long” Tony said.

“He said he’s on the way right?” Bucky said.

Tony nodded “He said he had a surprise” he replied.

“Sir Doc is coming up” Friday replied.

The elevator opened Bruce walked in carrying a sleeping girl. He stopped when he saw everyone waiting for him. He put a finger to his lips as he walked and placed her gently on the nearest empty couch. He fussed with her blanket, making sure she was comfortable before he walked over to the others.

Bruce smiled “Hi” he said quietly to everyone.

Tony rushed over to him “Are you ok?” he asked.

Bruce smiled “I am fine” he said simply.

The others looked at him expectedly, before Bucky spoke up. “Ok I’ll bite who’s the kid” he asked.

“That is Morgan” Bruce replied. “She is my friend’s granddaughter” he added.

“This friend from ICU?” Sam asked.

“Yes” Bruce answered. ““Morgan is going to live with us” Bruce said. “Surprise” he said weakly.

Tony blinked at him “She’s going to live with us? For how long” he asked.

“Til she’s 18” Bruce replied.

The room was silent. Everyone looking at each other in confusion.

“Babe what do you mean?” Tony asked.

“Jackie didn’t want Morgan to go to social services and asked me to take her” Bruce said.

“Wait this dying friend just asks you to take her granddaughter? Didn’t she have family? Bruce there are laws” Tony said. “You can’t just take someone else’s child” he added.

“I know-I said they weren’t going to allow a stranger to take her” Bruce said. “That’s when she told me” he added starting to ring his hands.

“Told you what?” Tony asked.

“She’s mine” Bruce said.

A snort, coughing and the sound of shattered glass interrupted them. All eyes turned to Steve who was coughing from inhaling his drink. Bucky smirked and started to pound his back.

“Breathe Stevie” Bucky said.

Steve calmed somewhat “Sorry Bruce-I uh didn’t expect that” he admitted.

“Man expected Tony to have the illegitimate child-not Bruce” Clint stage whispered to Natasha-who promptly hit him in the side of the head.

Tony looked from the team at Bruce “What do you mean she’s yours?” he asked slowly.

“She’s my granddaughter” Bruce said.

“Your granddaughter?” Natasha asked.

“My first time was at 17-with Jackie. I left and she became pregnant. Had Fiona at 17-and Fiona must have followed in her mother’s footsteps and had Morgan at 17” Bruce said keeping his eyes on Tony.

“Do you have proof?” Tony asked.

 “Yes I have a folder that has both Fiona and Morgan’s DNA” Bruce said. “She’s mine” he added.

“When you called and said you were on the way and that you had a surprise. This goes beyond anything I thought” Tony said.

Bruce sighed “This wasn’t what I expected either” he said. “I am terrified and numb at the same time” he said. “I had a daughter I never knew about” he said as he started to pace. “I should be furious at Jackie for never telling me-but then again I remember how I was back then. She never wanted to force me into something. She tried to tell me apparently-she came to culver but she must have saw me kissing Betty and left. The next day her husband convinced her to come back and tell me but the accident had already happened and she was told I was dead. It wasn’t until one of the group interviews after New York that she realized I was still alive” he said.

“Was your daughter alive then?” Sam asked.

Bruce looked over at him “At that time yes-Fiona had an aneurism in her sleep a year ago” he said.

“I am sorry you never got to meet her Bruce” Steve said.

“Jackie said I did met her at once-at one of our comic con meet and greets. She was pregnant and talked to me about water conservation” Bruce said with a small smile.

“I remember that conversation” Tony said in wonder.

Bruce nodded “I know me too” he said. “I vaguely remember what she looked like” he said then sighed.  “I know I should have called you but I just couldn’t let social services take her. But now I just don’t know what to think.” He added as he sat down on the other end of the couch.

Tony sat down next to him “What’s there to think about?” he asked.

Bruce shot him a look “Tony we’ve never cared for a child this young before much less a girl. This will be very different from Pete or Miles” he warned. “Not to mention she is only 4 years younger than Miles” he added.

“She doesn’t need to know she’s your granddaughter yet Bruce” Steve reasoned.

“You should be more worried about raising a girl” Natasha teased.

Tony laughed “You think Iron Man and Hulk are scared of a little pink and glitter? He asked.

Sam snorted “More like Princess sippy cups and tutus, dress up and tiaras. Not to mention when she hits puberty” he warned.

“Boys” Clint said in jokingly warning voice.

Tony cursed under his breath “Maybe this is my payback?” he replied eyes wide.

Bruce couldn’t help but laugh as he laid his forehead on Tony’s shoulder. “Maybe” he agreed earning a glare from Tony.

“Mimi” Morgan whimpered.

Bruce got up and rubbed her back “Morgan-you are at my house remember?” he asked.

Morgan nodded “Mimi’s in heaven with Mommy” she said quietly.

“Yes she is” Bruce agreed. “Can I pick you up?” he asked.

Morgan rolled over, looking at him before barely nodding her head. Bruce gently picked her up and she looked at her surroundings her eyes huge. She stayed silent, clinging tighter to Bruce.

“Morgan this is my house” Bruce said gently. “And this is my family” she said pointing to the team.

Bucky and Sam waved at her and the rest had smiles on their faces. Morgan looked at them and gave a small wave back.

“My sons are asleep upstairs you’ll meet them tomorrow” Bruce continued. “And this is my husband Tony” he said pointing to Tony.

“Hi sweetie” Tony said. “Can I give you a hug” he asked.

Morgan looked over at Bruce “You don’t have to” Bruce said. “But I can vouch he gives very good hugs” he said.

“Well I learned from Bruce” Tony said with a barely there leer.

Morgan looked at Bruce “I do like your hugs” she said then turned to Tony and reached out her arms.

Tony took her and hugged her close “Oh yeah we’ll keeping her” he said quietly. “I think I am already in love” he added.

Bruce smiled and couldn’t help but agree.

[siderealxmelody]

Henry II's Backstory

@redeyesgreeneyes

@candy-addicted-angel

@fallcnintohell

@you-shouldnt-have-cut-my-wings

@hunterxcarlie

@tohavelost

@truesymphony

Henry never believed that his mother was killed by some demon. He remembered being forced to go on hunts with his father and seeing what he saw. But even then he didn't believe it. Maybe he was in denial, maybe none of it was real and had a simple explanation.

He tried to dissuade his siblings from believing his father but he couldn't. He especially stopped trying with Dean. Let Dean be the Good Son, it would lead him to ruin anyway.

He had plans for himself, he wanted to get out of the small little town he was born in. He wanted a normal life, a house, a good job. He wanted to make good money, enough that he didn't have to worry about bills like his parents had to when his mother had been alive.

For fuck's sake Winchester wasn't even their real last name. Their father had changed it in an effort to avoid police scrutiny and keep whatever had killed their mother away from them. Apparently he'd been looking at a world map at work the week before Mary's death and liked the name. Which to Henry tells everything you need to know about a man like John. He worked as an auto mechanic and was too broke to even go outside the country. He was the kind of guy who looked at maps and planned trips he'd never take.

At 18 Henry had had enough and left for NYU. He double majored in marketing and business and got a job at Goldman Sachs. Along the way he met Cassandra a architecture and theology. She wasn't very religious but curious about understanding the history and significance of the architecture around her. He loved hearing her speak of the different buildings as they walked around NYC.

Two years into their schooling they had a daughter named Cora. Cassandra's parents had money and they loved Henry. So they were more than thrilled to have a granddaughter to dote over.

Two years later after they graduated from college they had a son, Kevin. He stayed most days with his grandparents in their penthouse apartment. Two years later they added their baby girl Rosalind.

Henry thrived in his job and home. He loved to tag along business trips Cassandra took. He loved to see how interested the kids were as Cassandra would rattle off facts and stories about the different buildings around them.

For a time everything was okay, but Kevin started to act strange when he turned 9. Talking to people who weren't there, being rude and reactive.

It had gotten to the point he had pulled a knife on little Rosey when she took his chips.

Henry and Cassandra were beyond worried and took him to many different child psychologists but no one could give them an adequate answer.

At 10 Kevin escalated things by stabbing his grandmother in the shoulder when she refused to give him any sweets as it was past 8 at night.

She was rushed to the hospital and Henry and Cassandra had to make a decision. He needed care and attention they couldn't give him so they decided to send him to Pleastantview Mountain Hospital in the catskills. Henry and Cassandra reached out to high powered friends everywhere to make sure the hospital was as good as their reputation stated. The last thing they wanted was for their son to be hurt more.

A week after his grandmother was sent home Kevin was taken there and kept in their children's corner.

The family visited once a month and the place looked to be helping, he had activities and school work he could do. He was given a specific case worker and therapist to talk to once a week.

They were hoping he'd be able to come home by Christmas in a few months.

But by Thanksgiving Kevin was acting out and angry, doctors advised to let him stay a little longer.

This turned into three years where he would fluctuate back and forth some weeks would be good, some bad.

At 13 he started to talk to his parents about what he saw as a child. Ghosts and demons following him around, haunting his room.

Henry had read child psychology books and knew he had to place this just right. He had to make sure Kevin knew he could talk to him but indulge in these delusions.

His grandparents had a different story, they believed Kevin wholeheartedly and told them they'd been hunters of the things Kevin was talking about. They retired when Cassandra was born.

Cassandra left the conversation and didn't speak to her parents for a month. Henry was taken aback and his in laws assured him they knew his past, it was one of the main reasons they approved of the match. Apparently John had reached out, his mother in law Janet and he went back, did a case up in DC when Cassie was 16.

They'd kept in touch ever since.

Henry was furious he'd tried so hard to get away from his father, to at least have some semblance of normalcy and his father still crept into his life.

He called his father that day demanding he stay away from his family and never contact him or his family again.

Henry and Cassandra both agreed it was better Kevin stayed in the hospital than come home. They didn't want the grandparents to make him worse.

Their daughters were flourishing given the circumstances, Cora at 15 was doing equestrian events on her local school team. Rosey at 11 was making friends and getting into make up and dresses.

Fast forward a few years the family still visited Kevin every month and spent holidays with him.

At 16 Rosey came to her parents and said she was pregnant, her boyfriend Theo was more than happy to step up and assured the parents he'd do everything in his power to be a good father.

He came from a broken home with a single mother so he was hoping to be the father figure he hadn't gotten.

Henry had a soft spot for him and after speaking to Cassandra they agreed Rosey and Theo could keep the children. Provided they promised to both graduate from high school and go on to college. They agreed and on March 15th 2016 Darian Alder Goldwood and Lainie Aster Goldwood were born. They were adored, Kevin even sent some artwork to hang in the nursery for them.

Rosey was elated, she loved to be a mother, she once told Cassandra she'd love to just stay home and raise the kids.

Cassandra was supportive but said an education couldn't hurt.

Two years later after they graduated high school Rosey found out she was pregnant again. She and Theo were overjoyed.

Kevin was beyond excited, seeing his family especially the twins always made his week.

Theo proposed soon after when they were walking in central park. Theo, had had a rough year. His mother Olivia had hung herself in the beginning of senior year. It was odd she had never shown any signs of being suicidal. It all had happened so suddenly.

Henry and Cassandra had payed for the funeral and the first year's rent of an apartment across the hall from them for Rosey, Theo and the twins.

When their third child was born she screamed as she entered the world, Theo and Rosey decided to name her Xena meaning life for the all the vitality she had. Xena Olivia Goldwood brought a joy to her family that they sorely needed.

Kevin was ecstatic when he finally got to hold her. He adored his nieces and nephew and drew drawings and made up stories for them.

Still he had violent outbursts so Henry and Cassandra agreed that to keep Kevin in the system was best.

Finally a year later in the summer of 2019 Rosalind and Theo were to marry. They had finished the first year of their college journey both going to NYU. Rosalind majoring in business she wanted to open her own clothing line. Theo in Visual and performing arts he wanted to build sets for Broadway.

For her wedding Rosey had one request that Kevin be allowed to attend. Henry and Cassandra were skeptical but talking it over with his doctors and therapist they thought it would be a good trial run.

Besides the wedding wasn't going to be very big, just close family. The reception was where all of Henry and Cassandra's business and work friends could come.

On the day of August 9th everything started out great. Cora had made time to come home. She was usually traveling around the world giving talks and doing sports with her horses. She had a ranch up in Montauk.

Kevin seemed nervous when he first got there but slowly relaxed as his nieces and nephew trailed after him and demanded some stories.

The wedding was a simple affair, Rosalind looked beautiful and Cassandra walked Theo down the aisle. They kissed and everyone toasted.

The reception was to be held the next day in their penthouse. For now everyone could relax the night away. Henry and Cassandra hadn't spared any expense and had rented a big lake house for everyone to sleep in. Since the penthouse staff would be up before dawn to get everything ready before guests and the family arrived.

Around 10 there was a scream. Cassandra had come to Rosalind and Theo's room to see if they wanted anything specific for breakfast the next morning.

Theo and Rosalind lay dead in their beds. Before Cassandra could run to the phone she was dead, her throat slit.

Kevin moved around the house and killed his grandmother next. His grandfather tried to hit him with a gun he had but it didn't seem to affect him.

Kevin didn't look like himself, his face was expressionless as if he wasn't even aware of what he was doing.

Cora ran into the room to see Kevin stab him and run out of the room. Cora stood in shock and horror. She ran to her grandfather's side when she saw he was still breathing.

She begged him to hang in there while she went to call the police. Her grandfather said there was no time. She would need to use this special knife to kill Kevin.

She protested, how could she kill her own brother?

Her grandfather assured he he wasn't her brother anymore, he was a demon, he was possesed, and, he needed to be put down.

He passed before Cora could ask anything else.

She found Kevin the living room yelling at Henry that he should have belived him. That he should have stayed with his family and they'd all be safe. If Henry had listened, if he'd stayed they would have all been safe. The angels swore they would have protected them all. But no, Henry didn't listen and now they all had to die.

Cora couldn't stop him from killing their father. But she'd die before she allowed him to hurt the kids.

She asked Kevin as he shuffled toward her if he would kill the kids after killing her. Kevin shook his head, his brown eyes wide and overblown like he was on cocaine.

He would never kill them, they were innocent. They could be saved, all they needed to do was say yes and an angel would save them. He was trying to save the world didn't she see that?

Cora nodded her head tears in her eyes as she went to give him a hug. She would do this as painlessly as possible.

Kevin hugged her and as he pulled back to stab her she did it first. Watching in shock as golden light flashed a couple of times in his body and he went limp.

She backed away from the body and ran to her phone. She called the police and told them everything.

Cora waited as the police came and spoke to her again, took crime scene pictures. The kids had thankfully been asleep this whole time and Cora was asked if she wanted to take them or place them in foster care.

She knew that the life she had had was gone. She'd need to be do everything in her power to give those kids a stable homelife. Even if she barely knew them.

She of course agreed to take them. Once all the funerals were done and the wake was finished she left.

She transferred all the money from all her family's account into her name and moved up to Montauk. She expanded her ranch adding chickens and cows. She couldn't bare to sentence another living thing to death and so bred them.

Only giving her animals to ranches like hers or animal sanctuaries where they'd be cared for the remainder of their lives.

She never reached out to any of her dad's siblings if even a sliver of what Kevin had said was true she wanted no part in it. She rather pretend none of it was real than be dragged back into that hellish nightmare.

[weezly14]

The prognosis, according to Google, isn't good. On the one hand, you think maybe you should disregard this. After all, doesn't typing any symptom into Google yield a “you're dying, probably of cancer” response? WebMD and the Mayo Clinic are notorious for scaring you into thinking that any and everything might be fatal. Perhaps you shouldn't put too much stock into this set of statistics, either. 

But on the other hand, it is cancer. And the prognosis - the statistics - isn't very promising. 

So maybe - maybe you should worry. 

Maybe you should look up flights. 

- 

You'll be 28 in two weeks. In your entire life, you've never seen your grandfather smoke. So when your mom says “lung cancer,” it doesn't compute. How could your grandfather, who doesn't smoke, get lung cancer? 

“He used to smoke, when he was younger.”

Lung cancer amounts of cigarettes? Doesn't not smoking for 28 years mean something? Did he work in a place with asbestos? 

(He was a truck driver, so probably not.) 

Cancer is a scary word; lung cancer, you realize quickly, is a confusing one. 

- 

When you were in college, your cousins’ grandfather died. He had stomach cancer, had fought it for years. The end, you remember, came on suddenly. A turn for the worse, and within a few days, he was gone. 

You weren't related to this man, but you'd gone with your cousins to his house. You called him Grandpa Ted, though he wasn't your grandpa, just like you called the aunts and uncles on that side aunt and uncle. They were of no blood relation to you, but these cousins were among your closest friends. So they were all aunt and uncle, and Grandpa Ted. 

You went to Grandpa Ted's funeral, because your aunt - your blood relative - was mourning her father-in-law, and your cousins - actually related and only in spirit - were mourning, too. You went because you wanted to be a kind of support to these people you loved in their sorrow, and because you'd known him, somewhat; had also called him Grandpa. 

You remember his wake, his funeral. Listening to the stories and sobs of these people who so loved him. You sat beside your aunt and your cousins, sang the hymns you remember from your choir days, prayed for rest for him and for peace for his family. 

But what you remember, most clearly, was the realization, hot and uncomfortable and unwelcome, that you probably wouldn't be this upset when your own grandfather died. 

- 

It made you feel like a terrible person, then. 

Now, he has cancer, and the internet says the prognosis isn't good. The doctors won't offer their thoughts until Monday. You're going to be 28 in two weeks, and you're getting married in 10 months, and it occurs to you to wonder if he will still be alive to attend. 

It occurs to you to wonder how sad you'll be when he dies. 

You feel terrible all over again. 

- 

Your grandfather taught you how to drive. He drove big rigs for a living, and when it came time for you to learn how to drive a car, he taught you. He made diagrams of four way stops on paper and pulled out toy cars to demonstrate the right of way. You went out in his old blue pick up truck, to a deserted stretch of office buildings. He taught you how to parallel park. 

Your grandfather, a notoriously impatient man, was patient as you learned how to drive. He didn't panic, as your mother might've, when you accelerated too quickly. His temperament - always a question, always uncertain - was perfect for teaching such as this. It was strange. It was nice. 

- 

This is the same man who would antagonize your sister, then snap when she got upset. The man who would get into his “moods,” as you all called them; who you'd have to walk on egg shells around when they struck, because he might lash out. (Only verbally, never physically.) 

The man who bought you garlic fries one year at the fair, and went off on you for wasting money and never finishing your food and a whole host of things when you didn't finish them, because they weren't what you expected and you didn't like them and didn't want to eat them. He made you feel so guilty, so wasteful, that day, for not eating the whole order of fries. 

You remember dreading going to visit, because inevitably there'd be some blow up between him and your sister - in that your sister would do something bratty, like the 6-7-8-9-year old she was, and he'd blow up, and it would be terrible for your mother and hard on you, too. How could you defend your sister when he got in his moods? Why couldn't she just not upset him? Why couldn't she just sit quietly and let him watch whatever he wanted on television? Why couldn't she abide by his moods like the rest of you did? (And why couldn't you find a voice to speak up to him?) 

Your grandfather is, deep down, a good man. And you do love him, and have pleasant memories of him. But for years you have not enjoyed being around him. You never know what he will be like, when you visit. What might set him off. It is exhausting, in some ways, which makes you feel guilty. He is family. He is your grandfather. He loves you. 

(But he's not always very nice, to your sister or your mom.) 

You decide, one day, to stop trying so hard. Let him reach out. Let him call. You aren't avoiding him; you just decide to stop trying. 

- 

When your mom tells you he has cancer, you haven't spoken to him since Christmas. 

It is the 4th of July.

- 

No, wait, that's not true. 

You called him when you got engaged. He was playing cards with your grandma and her family. They kept playing cards as you spoke to him. It was a strange, awkward phone call. They didn't call back in the days or weeks that followed. 

“Are you sure they heard you?” your mom asked. 

They did. They just didn't feel the need to follow up, you supposed. 

It would've stung, but it wasn't terribly surprising. 

- 

You were in a car accident two and a half years ago. They lived a few hours away, by then. Things were hard. You talked to them once; your mom talked to them, told them that if they wanted to help you, you could use a bit of money. You'd had to quit your job, your car was totaled, your glasses were lost in the crash. They never reached out, never offered help, nothing. Radio silence. You had friends would checked up on you more than they did; who sent gift cards to help you get by. But your grandfather was silent, distant. 

It stung, more than you wanted it to. But you learned then, who he was. 

- 

Your mom tells you he has cancer, and you google “lung cancer” and you discover that it's actually pretty bad. You tell your mom you'll call him tomorrow. You begin wondering if you should fly out to spend time with him. 

But you don't cry. 

- 

You don't cry until you talk to him. His voice sounds hoarser than you're used to, but then, you haven't spoken to him in months. Maybe you're imagining it. (Maybe it's the cancer.) 

He tells you it's a relief, to know what's wrong. To not just wonder and wait for test after test result to come back. He tells you now it's time to fight. That he's hopeful. “We'll see what happens,” he tells you, is his new mantra. 

Your uncle is on his way to stay with them, he says. (Your uncle, who broke down on the phone with your mom when they talked.) He's going to go with them to the doctor's on Monday. You're glad of it. It will help them both, you think, to be together. Your grandpa and your uncle are close; it will be harder on him than on your mom, you think, if (when) he dies. 

You tell him to keep you posted. That he's tough, that you think he'll be okay. (You talked about your wedding, early in the conversation. The plan had been that he and your grandpa were going to drive the RV across the country, make a month long trip out of attending your wedding. You'd spoken of it like it was still definitely going to happen, but the question - the uncertainty - hung in the air between you.)

He thanks you for calling. (Of course you called. You're his granddaughter, not a neighbor or acquaintance.) 

You tell him you love him. Because you do, even if it's complicated. 

He tells you he loves you, with all his heart. Maybe you imagined it, but you swear his voice catches. 

You tell him you'll talk to him later, and hang up the phone. 

That's when the tears start. 

- 

Should you fly out to see him? Should you send him a care package? This man who is family, who loves you, who is kind of a dick? How do you proceed? 

What is the difference between what you want to do and what you feel like you should do? 

Does it even really matter? 

Your grandfather has lung cancer. You do not say “is dying of” but rather “has.” You do not know what stage it is; you do not know his prognosis. You do not know, actually, if he is dying yet. 

(But they found the tumor two months ago.) 

(But he'd had a cough that wouldn't go away for months, fluid in his lungs, all things the internet said were Not Good.) 

But he is your grandfather. And that means something. 

So you will compile a care package. You will look up flights. (His birthday is at the end of the month; maybe that would be a nice surprise for him. And for your grandma.) You will make an effort again. Because he is your grandfather, and he has cancer, and you must do something. 

Right?

[genderbinaryisforlosers]

They Ask You to Stay [Doctor Who]

Alternate ending of It Takes You Away based on my very self-indulgent hopes and dreams. The Solitract attempts to coax the Doctor into staying with echoes from the past.

“You can stop being Trine, now. Now, please – this universe is going critical.” The Doctor leaned on the wall for balance as the house quaked. “If it blows, it’ll take out the anti-zone and my universe with it – you’ll destroy everything you’re trying to connect with.”

The Solitract held her gaze, and bright white light streamed in through the window. She was blinded, and the tremoring stopped, giving way to a dreamy wave of calm. For a moment before her vision returned to her, she feared that she had been cast into Limbo or the Void, trapped in the space between universes.

She was in a long, soft white corridor, supported by triangular beams. Not quite Limbo, then; more like a blank canvas. The interface had disappeared – she was alone. With her itchy foot getting the best of her as always, she chose a direction and walked.

“Hello?” she called hopefully.

Ahead of her was a white mist that backed away as she walked to reveal no more than she had left behind. The Solitract had to be all around her. What was it doing? Why wouldn’t it answer her?

The Doctor had no sooner started to wonder if the silhouette she could make out was a trick of her eyesight than it spoke to her: “Hellooo? Who’s that?”

Her hearts skipped, and her footsteps stopped. No.

“Bill?”

“Doctor, is that you?” She had glee written all over her face, that beautiful confused smile that had caught their attention a lifetime ago. “Mate! Looking so good.”

She extended her arms for a hug, but the Doctor didn’t move any closer. She didn’t know what look she had on her face, but Bill, reading it, dropped her arms and her smile. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “Don’t do this. Please. Stop it, I know you aren’t real.”

She frowned and scrunched her mouth up as her eyes moved to the A-frame above their heads. Her puzzle-solving face. “Welll… I feel real. I think I’m real. That means I’m real, right?” She cracked another smile as she looked at the Doctor again. “Metaphysics week.”

The Doctor couldn’t bring herself to repeat what she’d said. Here was Bill, looking at her like she’d always looked at them, being funny and smart and confident. But she wasn’t real. Here she was again, an after-image trapped in glass.

“When did you become such a sceptic?” asked a disapproving voice, and the Doctor whipped around. Missy had her feet propped up on a stool as she sat in an armchair, reading a book. She didn’t look up as she spoke. “All that ‘hope’ and ‘possibility’ nonsense, what happened to that? Honestly. What is it like when I’m not here making your life worth living?”

“When did you get here?” Bill said.

Missy looked up with a convincing display of surprise, as if she hadn’t noticed she was there. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m sure it’s all very heartfelt, carry on.” She licked her finger and turned the page of her book.

The Doctor felt a sensation like static in her hands, and when she looked at them, they were aberrating, like a glitch on a computer screen. “You’re still not in control of this reality.”

“You’re wrong,” said Missy and Bill at the same time. Just mouthpieces for the Solitract, she reminded herself. Don’t get caught up in it. “We control everything here.” They still sounded like themselves. She expected them to sound possessed or puppeteers, but instead it sounded like they had had a rare moment of simultaneous agreement.

“So you can see that this world is still unstable. Me being here is going to kill us both. This can’t work, no matter how much you want it to.” The Solitract was well-intentioned, but it was lonely. It wanted connection at the expense of everything and everyone around it. It had to see that.

She felt a hand on her arm and turned, expecting to see Bill – but a different familiar smile took her breath away instead. “Sweetie,” River said, “it’s alright. The Solitract can cope with one person, you said so yourself.”

Maybe she – it, the Solitract – was right. It could just be an adjustment period, recalibrating after losing Erik and gaining the Doctor. There had to be a difference in volume – it could just be compensating. Still cautious, but optimistic, she nodded.

River smiled wider and let her hands slide down the Doctor’s arms so that their fingers could link. “Let’s go see the stars.”

She took an apprehensive breath and kissed River’s hand, unable to look her in the eye. “I’ve already said goodbye to these people. These are only… echoes. They’re not real. Please let them go.”

Her wife smiled sadly. She returned the kiss onto her hand, and then evaporated into stardust. Behind her, Bill did the same with a small wave, and as she turned, she caught Missy blowing her a kiss before she disappeared too.

The Doctor let herself imagine the particles of light settling back into her hearts, where they belonged. Where they would always be real to her.

She carried on down the passage, surrounded again by white mist, until she made out another silhouette, and despite herself, she felt a flood of relief. The old design was more geometric, with more conventional controls, but she was unmistakable as always – home. The very first version, before they’d worked out how to change the theme, before they’d found all the rustic charms (as Susan liked to say) of an antique TARDIS.

She ran a hand over the rim of the console and remembered how she’d felt. The universe at her fingertips, and…

“What is it like out there, Grandfather?” Susan asked from across the console.

“Susan,” she said dumbly, more of a reaction than a statement.

The girl had a childlike wonder about her, eager for adventure. She remembered how they’d spun it, all that time ago. Running away to see the stars was Romantic with a capital-R, the kind of whimsical and mysterious and reckless adventure that all young people craved.

They wouldn’t think about being cast out. They wouldn’t think about fleeing with their lives, just barely. This was a road trip – the biggest and most fantastical road trip in the history and the future of road trips.

“Tell me about the universe,” she begged.

Lost for words, the Doctor found herself smiling. “You think words can do it justice? It’s really big… and incredibly beautiful.”

“So show it to me,” she said, looking at the console as if to press forward into the unknown, but seeming unsure how. “Show me all the wonders of your universe.”

She thought about the little house in the fjord in Norway, where one man and his wife lived. Such a little world to work with. She considered the vastness of time and space, the blazes of suns and winds of nebulae, and then, of course…

The people. Complex, beautiful people, who were never ever small or insignificant. Each one a masterpiece worthy of their own canvas. She remembered the way the Solitract had started to collapse when it was dealing with all of them at once. Trying to compensate around all their hopes and dreams, their pitfalls and weaknesses, had made it crash.

This wasn’t going to work.

“I can’t,” she said.

Susan’s face fell, and she felt her hearts break a little.

“My universe isn’t meant for yours. You’ll break,” she said. She wasn’t sure how well the Solitract could understand her feelings, but she hoped she was conveying regret. She wished she could alleviate their loneliness, she did.

Susan looked hurt. “You’re lying to me because you want to leave.”

“No,” the Doctor replied quickly, and skirted the console to stand closer to her. “You’re my… friend. And friends help each other face up to their problems, not avoid them. This is…” She gestured to the mist all around them, unable to articulate what she was feeling. “You are maddest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced, and I’ve barely scratched the surface.”

Susan looked up and smiled, but it was a compromising smile. The Solitract was starting to understand that she had to leave – she knew that face.

“I wish I could stay,” she said sincerely, “but if either of us are going to survive, you’re going to have to let me go and keep on being brilliant by yourself.”

They looked down. “I miss you,” said the voice of her granddaughter, and she couldn’t pretend that didn’t ache. “I miss it all so much.”

She put a hand on Susan’s cheek and stroked it gently with her thumb. “I know. But if you do this, I promise… I will hold you in my hearts. Along with all of the others that I’ve lost. You and I will be friends forever.”

Susan smiled brightly and their hand went over hers, lingering. Then they released her, and as the Doctor backed away, she pressed two fingers to her lips and blew a kiss.

“Goodbye.”

[sevenpabosandabunchoffans]

The Meaning of Family | From Friends to Spouses {Part 3}

Characters: Min Yoongi, Original Characters, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jung Hoseok, Jeon Jungkook, Kim Taehyung, Park Jimin

Words: 1194

Genre: College Student!Yoongi, Parents!Namjin

Warnings: slight mentions of anxiety, Jin is an emotional wreck, implications of past child abuse

Summary: “Do Yoongi and Sophia get married?”; Yoongi and Sophia take the next step in their relationship, but not without a few bumps along the way; Time Period - a few days after the last part, Thanksgiving; Ages: Jin - 35, Namjoon - 35, Yoongi - 18, Sophia - 18, Hoseok - 17, Jimin - 16, Taehyung - 15, Jungkook - 14

A/N: If you check out the masterlist for The Meaning of Family, you will see that I am planning on there being seven parts to this. I have already finished up to part five, which those parts will be posted very soon, and I will finish the last to parts up as soon as I can! I hope you enjoy!

Previous Part

Sophia was able to get an appointment for the day after she called, which worked perfectly for her and Yoongi, as Thanksgiving Break began for the both of them on that day. She was sitting on the examination table, Yoongi holding her hand as they waited for her doctor to come in. She finally did. “Well, you’re definitely pregnant,” was the first thing out of Dr. Nolan’s mouth as she entered the room. “And based on the date you gave us for your last menstruation, you are about seven weeks along.”

“When’s the due date?” Sophia asked, the only thing she cared about being when the baby would come.

“July 12th.” Dr. Nolan answered. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll get you set up in an ultrasound room.”

“Wait, we can see it today?” Yoongi asked, somewhat surprised.

The doctor nodded. “Sophia is just far enough along that your baby will appear on sonograms.”

Dr. Nolan led them across the hall into a different room that was set up to perform ultrasounds. As she got the machine set up, Sophia turned her head to look at Yoongi, taking hold of his hand. “Are you ready for this?” She asked quietly. He nodded in response, lightly squeezing her hand as he leaned down to softly press his lips to hers.

The next day, they were in the car, driving to the Kim house for Thanksgiving. Their conversation had switched over from lighthearted decision making for when the baby came to a more serious discussion that was bordering on a small argument. “The only question here is do we want to tell them today or wait until Christmas.” Yoongi said.

“But why are those the only two options?” Sophia rebutted. “Why can’t we pick a day between now and then and invite everyone out to dinner or over to the apartment or something and tell them then?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not too crazy about setting it up that way. In that situation, they would know that we have something to tell them, so they would spend the entire time anticipating it, and the pressure would just keep building up.” Yoongi parked the car on the curb behind his dad’s car so that he wouldn’t block anyone trying to drive by the house. “I’d rather do it on a day where our families will already be together and just surprise them with it. It’s not as anxiety-inducing.”

“I didn’t really think about it that way.” Sophia said quietly, taking his hand in hers. “If you want to tell them today, then we’ll do it. If you want to wait, then we’ll wait. Even if it takes until I’m showing, and they figure it out themselves, we can wait.”

They entered the house to see Jin shooing Lily off the table. “You stay away from my turkey! Jimin! Come get your cat!” Jin stopped when he saw Yoongi and Sophia had arrived. “Yoongi! Sophia!” He greeted the two with a hug. “Sophia, your mom, sister, and grandma should be here soon.” Sophia nodded with a smile as she moved to sit on the couch, Yoongi already moving to the kitchen to get a drink for himself and her as Jimin exited his bedroom.

“Hey, Sophia~” The 16-year-old greeted as he saw his older brother’s fiancée.

Soon enough, the two families were sitting around the living room, since there wasn’t enough room at the table for all 11 of them, with their plates full of food. Jungkook had just brought some of his art assignments out to show Abuela Martinez at her request. “I just knew you would always be a great artist, Jungkook~” A blush rose across Jungkook’s cheeks at the elderly woman’s praise. “I still have all of your finger paintings and drawings from when you were just a little boy hanging on my fridge.”

Amelia nodded in agreement. “She really does.”

“Thank you, Abuela~” Jungkook took his drawings back and set them to the side, planning on waiting until he was finished eating to return them to his room.

At this moment, Abuela Martinez set her sights on her granddaughter and soon to be grandson in law. “So, have you talked about kids in the future.” The coke Yoongi had been drinking went down wrong and he began to cough.

“Mom~” Sophia’s mother gave the older woman a look.

“What?” Abuela Martinez asked innocently as Sophia pat Yoongi on the back as he continued to cough his lungs up. “I just want to know when I can expect great grandchildren.”

“Considering I’m a bit too young to be a grandfather…” Jin chimed in, not wanting to become a grandfather until he was at least 45, 40 at the earliest, meaning he still had at least 5 years to go. “I’d hope it would be a while before any children were produced from their marriage.”

By this point, Yoongi had calmed down and was now chuckling nervously. “Funny you say that, Dad~” He lightly nudged Sophia, giving her a look that it was time as he felt curious and confused glances on him from various parties in the room.

Sophia cleared her throat before speaking up. “I’m pregnant.”

After a moment of silence, one of Jin’s hands shot to his chest while the other went to Namjoon’s thigh. “My baby is getting married and having a baby of his own. Joon, what is this feeling?”

“I believe it is nostalgia from remembering him as a child.”

“Dad, don’t start~” Yoongi muttered, wishing the attention would move on from the two of them.

“Did dad’s talk not work on you?” Yoongi threw one of the decorative throw pillows at Hoseok, who just laughed away.

“Yoongi, don’t throw the throw pillows at your brother, how many times do I have to tell you?”

“Then why are they called throw pillows?” Jungkook asked, and Yoongi was thankful that the attention had left them for at least a small amount of time.

“Yeah, why are they called that?” Amelia inquired, which led into a discussion between the two families about the reasoning behind the name.

Eventually, Sophia’s mom moved to sit next to her daughter and started asking her questions about how she was doing. Yoongi got out of the conversation by offering to carry people’s dishes into the kitchen now that they were nearly done eating. Namjoon joined him in the kitchen after a few minutes. “And how are you feeling about this?”

Yoongi took a deep breath before sharing a qualm of his that he even Sophia didn’t know about. “I’m worried…that I might turn out like…” The 18-year-old trailed off, but Namjoon already knew who he was referring to.

“Don’t worry, Yoongi, you are nothing like your biological father.” Namjoon assured him. “You are one of the gentlest people I know, and even when you do get in small arguments with Sophia, or us, or your brothers, you’ve never even raised your voice.” Namjoon placed his hand on his shoulder, rubbing lightly. “I have no doubts that you will be an amazing father.”

Yoongi smiled up at his dad. “Well, I’ve had two pretty great ones.”

Next Part

[bffhreprise]

Entry 361

 “Aaliyah?” I called, finding my breakfast on the warming-thingy my daughter had built.  She was obviously up already, but I couldn’t come close to keeping up with her.  My tiny daughter had boundless energy and a mind that somehow outpaced her body in its zest.  “Aaliyah, are you around?” I asked, staring across our strange, wonderful household.

 She didn’t reply.

 “Mila, where’s your mother?” I asked, knowing she’d have an answer.  Mila was better at tracking her mother than I was.  I still struggled thinking of MIla as a granddaughter.  I wasn’t old enough for a granddaughter, especially not one that was fully electronic and grown!  Only my daughter would do such things to someone…  “Hmm?” I asked when I realized I had missed the reply while thinking to myself.

 “Mother went into work early, Grandfather.” came the prompt reply.

 “Oh.” I dumbly replied.  Our colorful home was always more lively when Aaliyah was home, but I did have a pile of work to do today.  I loved my job, but translating documents wasn’t the enjoyable part.  I much preferred going places in person, seeing the sights with my daughter when she could come along, and translating directly for people.  Sighing, I started my breakfast.

 Barely a few bites into my breakfast, my thoughts were interrupted by a very loud, clanging noise.  I ignored that noise and the occasional clanking for another few bites, then I got up to investigate.  Back inside my daughter’s castle sat the very large, strange machine she had built without telling me anything about it.  Nothing was smoking or looking wrong in any other way I could understand.  She had told me something to do with it if there was a problem, but I couldn’t remember what.

 After returning to my breakfast, I managed to finish my meal, but my alarm was growing with the sounds from the machine.  Something was wrong.  “Mila, do you know what’s happening?”  I asked, motioning to the noise.

 “Sorry, but no.  Mother failed to share that design with me, so I’m at a loss as to what the machine does and what’s happening.” she replied, clearly worried as well.

 “Is James busy?  Your mother forgot her phone again.” I explained after hearing her ringtone upstairs.

 “He has time for you.  Would you like me to connect you to him?” she asked.

 I nodded as I said, “Yes, please!  Thank you, Mila.”  I really liked James and was overjoyed that Aaliyah had found a place for herself at his strange company.  She rambled on and on about the things they did there to me, but I never could follow half of the things my daughter said.  Her explanations were always overly detailed and extremely technical no matter the language she was speaking.  I hoped she understood how proud of her I was, but she really did need to tone down the explanations if she wanted anyone to understand.

 Barely one ring into the call tone, James greeted me.

 “Is Aaliyah with you?” I asked, not even trying to keep my panic from my voice.

 “Oh, yes.  Is something wrong?” questioned James with obvious concern.

 “A month ago, she built this large machine in her castle.  The thing is making a racket, we don't have a clue what to do.”

 “We'll be right over.” he assured me before hanging up.

 I would have preferred staying on the phone with him.  James was a very calm person, and being around him, even just on the phone with him, was nice.  Putting my phone back in my pocket, I hurried over to the machine, looking for any sign of what I could do to help it.  There were panicked-sounding beeps now.  Something was very wrong.

 The minutes seemed to stretch on and on as the machine’s beeping plea became more and more panicked.  I tried a few buttons, but they didn’t seem to help.

 “Chad, we're here.” came James’ voice over the racket.  “Aaliyah's grabbing something.”

 I hurried out of the castle area as fast as I could past all my daughter’s tools and toys.  She hated cleaning.  Spotting James, I said, “I was scared that I somehow broke it.”

 James wasn’t worried.  He never was these days.  The boy had grown a great deal since the first time I had hired him. “What is it?” he asked, easily seeing over the castle wall with his height once he had approached.

 “No idea.  I've caught her feeding it cake though.” I admitted.

 “Cake?” asked James, surprise plain on his face.

 “Yep!  Cake!” exclaimed Aaliyah, coming up from behind us.  She easily stepped around us, maneuvering a plate of cake on her hand as she tiptoed around her mess.

 “Why does your machine need cake?” asked James flatly.  His expression seemed darker than normal now.

 “It doesn't!” exclaimed Aaliyah quite giddily.

 “Then why would you waste cake?” I asked in complete shock.  There was little my daughter loved more than cake.

 “She wouldn't.” stated James, his voice grave.  “Aaliyah, what is this?”

 “An artificial womb!” she exclaimed enthusiastically.

 The words hit me like a Mack truck.  My mind was reeling.  Something living was inside of that machine.  I knew there was laws regarding such things, but Aaliyah knew them better than I did.  Still, what was she making?  A dog?  I liked dogs.  “I don't suppose a litter of puppies are going to come out in a basket…” I asked hopefully.

 “No, silly.  I'm having a baby!” she replied, her enthusiasm unabated by my concern.

 “What?  How?” asked James, sounding just as concerned as I felt.

 “You and Alma are having a baby, so why can't I, boss-man, sir?” she asked him, staring up at him in confusion.

 “Aaliyah… you're twelve.” I reminded her.

 “Thirteen next month!” she exclaimed with a grin.

 “I think your father feels that's a bit young.” stated James, his eyes looking into mine with commiseration.  Then his head rapidly swiveled back to my daughter as he demanded “You're feeding an unborn baby cake!?”

 Seeming to ignore him, Aaliyah called out “Health report!”  The banging, clanging, beeping, and whirring had settled down again.  A screen on the machine instantly lit up, displaying all sorts of numbers, and Aaliyah started rambling on about what they all meant.

 I didn’t know medicine and had no idea what most of it meant, though even I knew the part about the cells being perfectly healthy was good.  

 “Congratulations in advance on being a grandfather.” stated James as he gently patted my back.  He understood how shocking this was, though my daughter never would.

 Aaliyah did things at her own pace no matter who tried getting in her way.  I had taken her to visit other lawyers—my daughter was already an exceptionally capable one herself, judges, doctors, and sat in on some lectures she had given for local colleges, though I doubted anyone really could follow everything she had said.

 Still, there was one thing I had to ask.  “Aaliyah, I understand that to have a baby you need… uh… genetic material from two individuals, so…  Who’s the father?”

 She grinned at me as if I asked a billion dollar question, which couldn’t mean anything good for me.  “Didn’t need one!” she happily exclaimed before going straight into how she artificially created something sufficient.

 As she rambled, I put concerns about broken laws and the child’s health out of my mind.  My daughter would be too far ahead of any concerned parties for them to cause much ruckus, and more than one of her doctorates from that school she attended would probably cover any medical concerns.  This was happening, so I needed to prepare for a flesh and blood granddaughter now.

[memyselfandwe00001]

Say it with Flowers (1/?) ~by memyselfandwe09

~Beta’d by the brilliant @tenroseforeverandever​ ~Artwork by Mudheart7567

Fandom: Doctor Who *but it’s an AU, so it can be read by whomever*

Rating: M 

Ship(s): Twelve x Rose, Jack x Ianto 

Characters: Twelfth Doctor (Human), Rose Tyler, Ianto Jones, Bill Potts, Jack Harkness, Wilfred “Wilf” Mott, Donna Noble, Jackie Tyler

~~Based on the prompt; Person A owns a flower shop and person B comes storming in one day, slaps twenty bucks on the counter and says “How do I passive aggressively say ‘fuck you’ in a flower?”~~

Summary: Rose Tyler had just moved into her new London flat. It was everything she ever wanted, with one major drawback; the madman living upstairs. Can she put up with his antics as he endlessly torments her, or will she be forced to move.

Tags: Flower shop AU, Humor, Neighbors, Eventual romance, Slow burn, Enemies to Lovers, Older man/Younger woman, my first Twelve x Rose fic, I was tricked into this, I tried giving the prompt away but it was given back to me.

AO3 / FF 

Chap 1 / Chap 2                       

A cascade of ice-cold water washed over Rose Tyler’s head, interrupting what was supposed to be a serene morning of drinking tea on her new patio.

Leaping to her feet, she shrieked and looked up to see where the water was coming from. An arrangement of plants and flowers hung down from the balcony above, dripping from recently being watered.

“Hello,” she called out, trying to keep her voice pleasant despite her growing irritation. When nobody came she yelled out louder, “Hey!”

A man came strutting out, bracing his hands on the banister as he peered down with angry eyebrows. “What is it?” he bit out irritably in a thick Scottish accent. He paused to take in her appearance as she shivered from the cold. “You know, you shouldn’t be standing out there all wet.”

“I wasn’t wet a minute ago,” she hollered. “I was sitting out here having my tea when you decided to surprise me with an arctic shower.”

“Well you shouldn’t be sitting right under where I do my morning watering, now should you?!”

Rose stared at him perplexed. “How the hell should I know your watering schedule? Besides, this is my patio and I would appreciate it if you would refrain from doing that over my head.”

“Oh!” His eyebrows raised as his voice turned condescending, “Well I’m sorry, princess, I didn’t know I had bloody royalty living below me.”

“Wait. What?” Rose stammered, unsure how to respond.

“Look, these plants,” he indicated the plants hanging above her, “are up here on my balcony. I can’t help it if they might drip a little. Do you come out and yell at the fuckin’ clouds every time it rains too?”

“Of course not,” she uttered in surprise at the audacity he had, turning this around on her.

He pointed toward her door. “Why don’t you go dry off, and drink your tea inside like the rest of us peasants?” With that, he turned away and went back inside, slamming his door shut in the process.

Rose could only stand there, staring at his empty balcony in shock. She thought once she’d left the Estate she’d be done dealing with people so incredibly rude and inconsiderate. Apparently she was wrong. This man living above her made some of her more boorish neighbors in the past seem gracious.

A cool breeze blew through, causing her to shiver again, and she headed back inside. She peeled off her sopping wet clothes, cursing under her breath as she made her way toward the bedroom.

After putting on some dry clothes, she headed back to the living room and decided to put this morning’s fiasco behind her for now. This was only her second day in her new flat and she had a lot of unpacking to do.

Her mum had told her she was being pretentious and didn’t think she needed two bedrooms, but Rose didn’t see it that way. She was making more than enough for rent and after all her hard work, why shouldn’t she reward herself?

Honestly, there had been very little her mum could have said to talk her out of it. The minute she stepped inside, she had known she wanted to live here. The flat featured a bright open kitchen and living area, with breakfast nook and hardwood floors. The master bedroom was very spacious as well, complete with an impressive en-suite.  

Then there was the patio. Being on the first floor meant Rose had a private outdoor space all her own. Of all the amenities this flat had to offer, this feature excited her the most.

The flat was everything she could have dreamed of, with only one drawback: the madman she had just learned was living upstairs.

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

Soon after the water fiasco came the clippings that littered her patio whenever he trimmed his plants. The first time she’d let it slide, hoping it was a simple mistake, but the second time it happened. she went up to his flat and approached him about it. That interaction had gone worse than the first one, much louder too, and ending with a door being slammed in her face.

It was basically a downward spiral for the next month after that, but of all the irritating habits her upstairs neighbor subjected her to, nothing bothered her more than the one she was experiencing now: his pacing. Not just normal pacing, but quick, inconsistent footsteps erupting from the ceiling above her.

She did her best to ignore it, she really did, but after lying in bed listening to it for over an hour, the pacing only became more erratic. Looking at the time, she saw it was reaching midnight. She needed to get some sleep, so she did what they always did in the Estate when they had a similar problem; she grabbed a broom and rapped the ceiling at the source of the pacing.

His response came in a series of loud stomps of his foot in the same spot. Seconds later the pacing resumed. Rose waited a moment then pounded again, much more aggressively than before because she wanted him to know she wasn’t going to put up with this. The pacing stopped, and for a moment she thought it had worked.  Then she heard the heavy footsteps racing to his balcony.

“Will you stop that incessant banging,” he cried out from above, “I’m trying to think!”

Rose grumbled and stepped out onto her patio and fired back, “Can’t you think a little quieter?”

“Of course I can, but if I do, I won’t be able to hear my thoughts!”

Rose screwed up her face in confusion. “What?”

Grumbling something about whiny kids, he stomped back inside, and the pacing continued. At least it did for about five more minutes, then he came back out and bellowed down to her. “Well, now I lost it! I hope you’re happy!”

Rose rolled over in her bed, mumbling to herself, “I am, actually.”

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

A few short hours later, her alarm clock started blaring, and it took every bit of willpower she had to drag herself out of bed. Once she was up, her first stop was the kitchen where she started a kettle, then proceeded to get ready for work

She made her tea and had a seat, fighting exhaustion. It only took a few sips before she realized, if she was going to get through the day, she would need something much stronger than tea.

There was a coffee shop not too far from her flat, making it a very convenient stop for Rose on mornings such as these. It was owned by Donna Noble, a feisty, quick-witted redhead Rose greatly admired.

The front of the shop was often attended to by Donna’s grandfather, Wilf. She never asked Wilf to work for her, he simply insisted by doing it anyway. He wanted to help his granddaughter out anyway he could, and he was glad to be out of the house and away from his daughter, Sylvia’s, nagging.

He soon became a house favorite, with an unusual talent for memorizing the names and drink orders of all their regular customers. Another valuable aspect Donna gained by letting her grandfather work for her were his scones. He had a family recipe even his daughter didn’t know for some of the most delectable scones anyone had ever tasted.

Rose entered the shop, thankful she’d missed the busy, morning rush and greeted Wilf as she approached the counter.

“Good morning, Rose. Caramel latte for you?”

“Please,” Rose smiled and removed her sunglasses, revealing her tired eyes. “I barely slept a wink last night.”

“Neighbor problems again?” Wilf asked as he rung up her order. This wasn’t the first morning she’d come in feeling exhausted from a long night of dealing with her neighbor.

“When is it not?” She rolled her eyes as she handed him the money then stepped aside to wait for her order.

The chime from the front door sounded and she turned, scowling when she caught sight of her heinous neighbor entering the shop. He seemed to be far more rested than she was. She glared at him as he approached and couldn’t stop herself from commenting, “I didn’t get any sleep last night because of you and your endless pacing.”

“And I lost my train of thought because of you,” he retaliated, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Before you moved in, nobody else complained about my thought process.”

“Because everyone else is afraid to approach you,” Rose pointed out. “Why can’t you be like normal people and play music or something while you think?”

“Why can’t you invest in a pair of earplugs, then we could both be happy?”

Rose gaped at him in shock and felt a storm of vulgarities brewing on her tongue when Wilf touched her arm, snapping her from her vile thoughts. He looked at her pleadingly, silently begging her not to cause a scene. “Here you are Miss Tyler. Don’t let Mr. McGregor’s insolence ruin your day.”

“Thank you, Wilf.” She smiled politely as she took her drink from his hand, then turned back to her neighbor with fury in her eyes.  “We’ll talk about this later, Mr. McGregor,” she warned him.

He rolled back on his heels and grinned cheekily. “I can’t wait, Miss Tyler.”

His elation had her seeing red, and as much as she wanted to let him have it, she really needed to get to work. Cursing under her breath she made a quick exit.   

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

“Aiden, why must you be so mean to her,” Wilf asked once Rose was out of sight.

Aiden feigned insult. “Mean to her? I simply came in here for a cuppa and she began attacking me.”

Wilf shook his head dismissively and resumed taking Aiden’s order.  

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

Two days later, as Rose lay in bed, she heard a strange sound, like something heavy being moved around above her, followed by a scraping noise. She was trying to figure out what that wanker was up to, when a loud buzz pierced her ears, followed by the unmistakable screech of an electric guitar.

Rose leapt out of bed. What the hell?

The ear-piercing wailing continued, filling her flat with the unpleasant noise. She grabbed her dressing gown, put on her slippers, and headed upstairs. It was oddly quiet outside and she didn’t hear the guitar again until she approached his door. She wondered, not for the first time, if the noise bothered anyone else and they were just too afraid to confront him. He was insanely rude to everyone, but she wasn’t about to let him intimidate her too.

She banged on the door loudly until the music stopped, then his heavy footsteps could be heard approaching as he barked out, “What is it now, Miss Tyler?”

The door flung open to reveal him in a pair of denims, a dark t-shirt, and a long black coat. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling self-aware as she stood there in her dressing gown. “How did you know it was me?”

“Lucky guess,” he quipped.

She pointed at the guitar he had slung over his shoulder. “Mr. McGregor, do you have any idea how late it is?”

“You suggested that I play music,” he remarked. “Now you’re complaining about that too?”

“I meant soft music, like on the radio,” she argued. “I didn’t mean for you to go out, buy a guitar, and go all Keith Richards on me.”

“Actually, I didn’t go out and buy it.” He looked down as he cradled the guitar in his hands. “I’ve had it locked away for far too long. I haven’t thought of playing it much until you mentioned it. Thank you.”

“Listen,” Rose pleaded, “it’s nearly midnight and I-.” Her words were cut off as the door closed in her face.

Seconds later the wailing resumed. Rose began pounding on his door again, but her efforts were hopeless.

“Arsehole,” she screamed at the door, giving it a final kick that should have provided her with some level of satisfaction. But, with only thin slippers covering her feet, all it actually gave her was a painful stubbed toe. She limped back down and entered her flat, hearing the continuous wailing resonating from above. She wondered how much worse it could get as she climbed into bed and yanked a pillow over her head and prayed for sleep.

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

Rose wearily dragged her feet about the restaurant kitchen on an unusually busy Wednesday afternoon.

She worked at Torchwood, an up-and-coming London hotspot with all the attributes of a sophisticated restaurant, but with a more relaxed atmosphere and a budget friendly menu.

It was owned by Ianto Jones, a young entrepreneur whom Rose had met while in culinary school. He was a natural in the kitchen with a highly refined palate and a talent for creating remarkable dishes. Being from a wealthy family, he always carried himself with a sort of self-importance, a trait that Rose initially found off-putting, but soon realized was just a product of his upbringing and not how he saw himself.

He was the one who had befriended Rose in the beginning. After being singled out for not only his social status, but also his sexual orientation, he appreciated having a friend like Rose who treated him as an equal.

Together, they were an unlikely pair: a well-off kid who had every luxury growing up, and an estate girl who had had to work harder than anyone to get where she was. Yet they were inexplicably similar in nearly every other way.

After they had finished school, they went their separate ways, he to get his new restaurant underway while Rose took the long path. Over a few years, Rose had worked her way up and continued learning more about her craft as Ianto had gone through his own hardships of making his dream a reality through failed attempts.

Five years later, he’d finally found his stride and once he was fully established he’d tracked down his old friend and proposed she work with him in his restaurant.

At first, she was hesitant, worried that working for her friend could be catastrophic, but then dismissed those thoughts considering he’d always treated her with more respect than she was often used to. Ianto had offered her a very generous salary, and the desire to leave her current job and nightmarish boss also made the idea of working for him very appealing.

That had been nearly a year ago, and today the restaurant was still highly successful, even more so than when she’d first come on board

She was carefully putting the final touches on a couple of dishes before they went out when an enormous yawn escaped her.

“Looks like someone was out late last night,” Ianto jested as he slid into her station.

Rose scowled and nudged him back to give her some space. “I didn’t sleep well s’ all; no reason to make assumptions.”

“Moody too,” he sassed while adjusting his suit jacket. “How come you couldn’t sleep?”

“Because of that tosser living up above me,” Rose growled.

Ianto smirked, “And what did Mr. McGrump do this time?”

Rose chuckled at Ianto’s play on her neighbor’s name. “He decided the middle of the night was a great time to play a two-hour guitar solo. Then when I went up there to tell him to cut it out, he slammed the door in my face. I honestly don’t know how much longer I can put up with him.”

“Do you need me to handle it?” Ianto playfully cracked his knuckles.

“No,” Rose laughed, “I’ve dealt with much worse growing up on the Estate. I just need to go about this differently.”

“Well, the offer still stands.” Ianto danced his fingers along her work station as he left her to prepare for the dinner crowd.

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

When Rose arrived home that evening, she spotted something taped to her door. She eyed it curiously as she approached and found it to be a pair of earplugs. She yanked them off the door mumbling, “Seriously!” and entered her flat.

She only had two things on her mind at that moment: a shower and sleep. After washing the day’s grime off, she slipped on a comfortable set of pyjamas and crawled into bed. Her mattress had never felt so heavenly as she curled under the blankets ready to drift off to sleep.

As if he knew she had just climbed into bed, the wail of his guitar started up again. Rose rubbed her tired eyes and groaned before slipping out of bed. She looked around for her notepad and a pen before she walked out and headed upstairs.

First, she knocked, although she knew he wasn’t going to answer. Once she was certain he was ignoring her, she began writing out her note:

_- Mr. McGregor, __  Although you may find your guitar practice soothing, it’s keeping the rest of us awake. I’m not sure what it is you do, but I have a job to go to every day. Please consider this next time you decide to pollute the air with your racket. The world doesn’t revolve around you.

_She didn’t bother signing it; there was no doubt he would know who it was from. She stuck the note to the door and headed back downstairs to try and sleep. As she walked to her bedroom, she stopped and grabbed the earplugs. She figured it couldn’t hurt to try for one night.

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

She wouldn’t admit that the earplugs helped at all and told herself it was exhaustion that ultimately brought her to sleep that night. Whatever it was, Rose finally felt refreshed when she woke up the next morning.

She puttered about her flat for a bit, knowing she didn’t have to be at work for a few hours. Like every other morning, she headed to the kitchen to start a kettle, frowning when the range wouldn’t start. She tried several more times, but nothing happened.

After taking a few deep breaths to keep from screaming, she grabbed her phone to call her landlord and request it get looked at. After such a good night’s sleep, she refused to let something so trivial ruin her day. Instead, she decided to make the best of it and take a walk to the coffee shop and get one of Wilf’s scones while she was there. 

The coffee shop was slightly more crowded than usual, but like the issue with her range, she refused to let it bother her and waited patiently.

The line crept along slowly and when she approached the counter Wilf greeted her kindly. “Good morning, Rose. The usual?”

Rose nodded. “And can I get a scone too?”

Wilf frowned. “Sorry love, we’re all out. We still have plenty of danishes.”

“Ok,” Rose sighed, “I really had my heart set on one of your scones this morning.”

Wilf rang up her order and as he took her money he glanced over her shoulder uncomfortably. Rose wasn’t sure what that look was about and turned to see her neighbor sitting there, drinking his coffee. On a plate in front of him was a scone.

Rose turned back to Wilf, wide eyed. “Please don’t tell me he got the last scone.”

“Sorry Rose, you know it’s first come, first served,” Wilf explained, handing over her change.

Rose noticed the unease in his eyes and gently touched his hand. “I know Wilf, I’m not angry at you.” But she was angry. It felt as if the universe was against her and her morning’s efforts of trying to remain calm escaped her the moment she saw her neighbor’s face.

When her order was ready, Rose took her items and headed for the door, but couldn’t keep herself from stopping at his table. “First you make it impossible for me to relax on my own patio, next you leave your plant clippings for me to clean up, then you keep me up most nights with your endless racket, and now…,” she pointed down at the scone, “now this?”

He looked down at the table before him. “Am I at your table? You can join me if you’d like.”

“Not the table,” Rose snapped. “The last scone. It’s like you’re doing this to me on purpose?”

Aiden pinched the bridge of his nose and mumbled under his breath before addressing her. “Yes Miss Tyler, I walked all the way here and bought out every last scone just in hopes that you would come in and want to buy one. All to ruin your day.”

“Honestly, I don’t know anymore,” Rose fought to keep her voice level so as not to draw any attention. “With everything else you’ve been doing to make my life miserable, maybe you did.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh, so suddenly the whole world revolves around you?”

Rose’s jaw dropped. He was using her own words against her. Now she was livid. “Are you seriously…”

Aiden leapt to his feet. “Don’t bother!” He stood over her. “I’m tired of hearing it over and over again. It’s exhausting. Why don’t you give it a rest?” He bent down to pick up his scone, and a sly grin spread across his face as he eyed three flowers sitting in a vase on the table. With his opposite hand he reached out and picked the red one. “Next time, if you’re going to say it,” he held the flower up to her, “say it with flowers.”

Speechless, Rose plucked the flower from his fingers.

Looking her directly in the eye, he took a large bite from his scone, chewing it delightedly. “Delicious!” He winked insolently before stepping around her to exit the shop, leaving Rose stunned... as always.

[wishingforatypewriter]

The Opposite of Casual

Summary: How far they had come from hooking up at other people’s weddings, and all without moving a single step. Follows On Casual Commitments and Business Casual. 

It had been late when Erina received the call. 

She and Souma had been sitting on the hardwood floor of the empty space that would become their San Francisco restaurant, taking swigs from a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels and arguing over paint swatches. 

Cool colors, elegance, royal purple, blue blood. No, warm colors, energy, crimson and gold. 

He had been leaving for Paris in the morning to see to his affairs, and kept trying to convince her come with him. He said he would miss her; that’s when she knew he had to be drunk. Because when had missing her ever stopped him from leaving at the drop of a hat? When they gotten so bad that they couldn’t spend a measly two weeks apart? 

She refused his offer because she had to stay in California if they were to keep to the schedule and open Canvas in seven weeks. She had been losing her resolve with each sip of whiskey that burned down her throat and each kiss he left at the base of her neck. 

A little before midnight, she had sighed and said, “Fine, but I’m only staying for a few days. You’re so lucky I’ve been craving Shino’s.” She’d picked up her phone to book a ticket just as it started ringing. 

“Alice?” he asked with a knowing smile. It was a well known fact that the Nakiri cousins rarely went a day without talking. 

“No, Chef Doujima,” she replied, perplexed. The head of the tourism department seldom called her at all, and always stuck to business hours (in her timezone, mind you) when he did. “I must’ve missed a deadline or something.” She shrugged, then answered. “Hello?” 

“Erina-san,” the man said with a weary sigh. “I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour.” 

“It’s no problem. I’m still awake. Is there something I should attend to?” 

“So it’s no problem when you take business calls after hours,” Souma teased. She rolled her eyes, shushed him. 

“It’s about your grandfather,” Doujima explained. “We were in the middle of a meeting when he collapsed. A heart attack.” 

“What?” The room had started spinning at that point, all the alcohol hitting her at once. Ever since she was a child her grandfather had been absurdly healthy, in better shape than most thirty-somethings when he was well into his eighties, running and hiking and swimming whenever his schedule allowed. Just two months ago, Alice had sent her a video of him doing one-handed push-ups with Kurokiba. “No, that can’t be right.” 

“We were quite surprised as well, but...” 

She could scarcely hear him anymore. She was sobbing, or hyperventilating, maybe both and it felt like the air in the room was growing ever thinner, like she was stranded at the summit of some far off cliff. She could feel Souma rubbing her back while he asked her the questions, the are-you-okays and what’s-wrongs. Erina knew she was probably scaring him because he never saw her cry before, she had seen to that, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer. 

 “I...is he...I mean, did he...” She prayed Doujima wouldn’t make her say it out loud. 

“Senzaemon-dono is still alive. We’re at the hospital, but they haven’t disclosed much information. They would prefer to speak with a blood relative. Your uncle Soe and his family are on their way from Denmark, but-” 

“I...I understand,” she said, grasping for some of her usual composure. “I’m on my way. Thank you for letting me know, Doujima-san.” 

After she hung up the phone Erina buried her face in Souma’s chest, letting the black cotton of his shirt absorb the last of her tears. She would give herself sixty seconds, no more, because she was still the demon lord of food’s granddaughter and heir. No matter what happened in the next few hours, she would have to be strong for Alice, for Auntie Leonora and Uncle Soe, for the Nakiri Group and the Tōtsuki network, students and alumni alike. She would leave her weakness on the worn out Restaurant Yukihira logo where it could do no harm. 

When her minute was up, she wiped her eyes and exhaled deeply. “I can’t come to Paris,” she finally said, her voice level. “Not this time.”  

It was time to go home.

They reached Tokyo after an eleven hour red-eye flight that Souma had more or less bribed their way onto. They flew coach, which made Erina miserable in addition to her being jet-lagged, mildly hungover, and terrified that her grandfather had died hours ago and she didn’t know because, in her words, humanity had advanced enough to put a man on the moon but still couldn’t find a way to give her cell service on a goddamn plane.   

“Do you want to get an Airbnb first?” Souma asked her once they cleared customs. He was holding both of their carry-ons while skimming through flats near the hospital on his phone. “You should probably lie down for a bit.” He had bought her some sleeping pills before they got on the plane, but she was never out for more than an hour and always woke with fresh tears on her face. 

“I’ll live,” she dismissed, her right eye starting to twitch as her iPhone, with newly restored cellular service, vibrated spasmodically in her hand. Her schedule, now sixteen hours behind, demanded a kind of attention that she simply did not have at the moment. She stared blankly at the events on her iCloud calendar—tastings, ingredient orders, interviews, a doctor’s appointment—things that had seemed so important less than a day ago. Then she deleted all of them. 

“And we should get some food in you.” 

Naturally Erina couldn’t defile her god tongue with the tasteless refuse that was airline food, and airline food in coach at that. She did feel weak, and more than a little bit dizzy. On a normal day his suggestions would have seemed rational, even preferable, but she was not in the mood for logic. 

“Later.” 

“Nakiri-”

“I am going to see my grandfather,” she snapped, and instantly regretted it. He had flipped his schedule upside down just to be there for her, and she’d been bratty and ungrateful the entire time. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just-”

“Don’t sweat it.” He kissed her forehead, stunning her enough to disrupt her train of thought; Yukihira Souma had never been one for public displays of affection, and neither had she. How far they had come from hooking up at their friends’ weddings. “I’ll get us a cab.” 

“Make it an Uber,” she said as they made their way to the terminal’s exit, and wondered if it sounded like I love you. 

In the backseat of the cab, Erina had attempted to pull herself together. She brushed her hair, wrapping it into a neat bun, and dabbed concealer under her eyes. So by the time they reached the hospital, she looked at least something like her usual self. 

The rest of the Nakiri clan had already assembled in the waiting room. Her uncle was flagging down a passing nurse, one who likely had nothing to do with her grandfather’s case, for questioning. Alice was sandwiched between her mother and her husband, sniffling, her eyes red and swollen. Auntie Leonora more than had her hands full between trying to make Alice eat some stale looking chips and telling Soe to stop harassing the hospital staff. 

The first person to notice their arrival was actually Chef Doujima, who had kept a respectful distance from the family. 

“Nakiri-san, Yukihira-kun,” he greeted. “Despite the circumstances, I’m pleased to see both of you well.” 

“Why so formal, senpai?” Souma asked, all good-natured charisma as usual. “You seen my pops lately?” 

“I ran into him in Spain a few months ago,” he replied. 

“That’s more than I can say,” Souma said, and Erina couldn’t help but crack a smile. Even his own son couldn’t top Jouichirou’s vanishing act. 

“How’s my grandfather?” Erina asked after a pause. “Have they said anything?” 

“Two hours ago one of the doctors came out to say his condition was improving, but they haven’t let anyone see him yet.” 

“That’s a relief,” she said, and was about to ask a follow up question when Alice fell upon them. 

“Erina,” she called, waving. “What are you doing?”

“What?” 

“You look like hell warmed over. Trying to hide those duffel bags under your eyes with drugstore concealer. Honestly.” She shook her head, knowing she’d taught her better. “I bet you came straight here from the airport.”

“You’re one to talk, Alice,” Erina replied. “You’ve probably been sitting right there since you got in from Denmark. How about you go find something to eat that didn’t come out of a vending machine?” 

“Me? I bet you didn’t even eat anything on the plane because you’re so spoiled.”

“I’m spoiled? You don’t even fly commercial.” 

“You’re such a hypocrite, Erina! How is only flying charter any different from only flying first class? Just go get some rest, already.”

“I’ll go when you do.” 

At this point, Souma turned to Ryo who had quietly followed his wife over. “Do they always have to do this?”

“Every single time,” the dark haired chef replied. 

“Yukihira,” Alice said, suddenly shifting her gaze his way. “You’re slacking. Hishoko would have had a hotel booked already. Go take her somewhere to lie down.” 

“Uh...I tried,” he said, scratching the back of his head.

“So you’re gonna take her side?” Erina asked. 

“What?” He glanced from Erina to Alice and back again. “How did I become part of this?”

“I told you not to get involved,” Ryo said. 

Just then, Nakiri Soe approached the group. “I was finally able to track down the right doctor.” 

“As expected of papa,” Alice said proudly. 

Soe adjusted his glasses, clearly moved by his daughter’s praise. “At any rate, we won’t be able to see father for another two or three hours. You two should take a break. I’ll call right away if anything changes.”

Alice glanced at her father for a long while and then sighed. “I’m honestly fine, but I suppose I’ll go for Erina’s sake.” 

“For my sake?” 

“Yes, for your sake.” 

The sounds of their argument continued all the way down the elevator shaft. 

“Who knew Mimasaka-kun had a restaurant around here,” Erina said as they went through the sleek chrome doors. 

“Everyone but you,” Alice replied. 

“Welcome to Silhouette,” the greeter said. “Would you prefer to be seated at the bar or a table.”

“Bar,” Erina said. “We may need to leave in a rush.”

“Understood.” The young girl led them to their seats with a pleasant smile. 

When the bartender asked for their drink orders, Erina only briefly hesitated before ordering a classic martini with two olives. “And you want a vodka cranberry, right?” she asked her cousin. 

“Just sparkling with lemon for me,” Alice replied with a sigh. Erina glanced at her, surprised. Alice almost never passed up her go-to drink. She blinked once, twice. 

“Alice...are you-” 

“Six weeks now,” she said with a sly nod, smirking around the rim of her glass. “Ryo thinks he’s getting a daughter, but it’s a boy. I can feel it.”  

“Congratulations!” Erina cried. “You...you’re going to be somebody’s mom.” It was a strange thought, really, considering how childish her cousin could be. 

“Thank you for stating the obvious, Erina,” Alice said as their appetizers arrived. “But yeah, I guess I am.” 

“Are you excited?” 

Alice shrugged. “Excited, a little terrified, wondering how all this is going to work with the restaurants and the research facilities. But Erina, I’ve been thinking lately.” 

“About?” She didn’t like the sound of her cousin’s voice, her playful lilt replaced with a more serious tone. 

“I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but I was talking to Hayama the other day.”

Oh yeah. Erina kept forgetting that they were friends. “And?”

“He asked me for Hishoko’s ring size,” she said. 

“He’s gonna propose?” Erina asked, her chest welling with happiness for Hisako, and for Alice, but there was a more unsavory feeling encroaching on her bliss. Not jealousy, never that, but perhaps a twinge of...panic.  

“He’s gonna ask her to elope,” Alice said. “And now that Dr. Arato is officially a thing, it won’t be long before they end up with a pink haired brat or two.” 

“That’s...” She sighed, the feeling of panic slowly intensifying. “That is true. In  fact, I’m surprised they don’t have a kid together already. But what’s your point?” 

“Do you want kids, Erina. Like in general?” 

Erina shrugged. “Sure.” 

“And if you were married, or in some kind of long term relationship, you might want them sooner rather than later, right?” 

“Where are you going with this, Alice?” Erina asked. She was too tired to play mind games. 

“Listen, I love Yukihira as much as the next person, and I’ve always rooted for you two to be together, but Megumi left him for a reason.” 

“Do I look like Tadokoro-san to you?” 

“It’s Aldini-san now,” Alice said with a pointed look. “All I’m saying is if you can’t have the life you want with him, maybe it’s time to start seeing someone else.” 

“Alice, I appreciate your concern, but I am not having this conversation with you-”

“Good. Have it with him, preferably before you wake up in ten years wondering how you’re still a friend with benefits,” she instructed, just as her phone started vibrating. “We should get back to the hospital.” 

Erina sighed and paid the bill before her cousin could protest. “Let’s get going.”

Erina had sat with her grandfather for a long while, hours after Alice and her side of the family had gone home. It had been agreed that after he left the hospital, he would spend a few months with them in Denmark while he recovered. Doujima Gin would take over as headmaster of the academy, and Megumi Tadokoro-Aldini, who had spent years as his second in command, would become head chef of the Tōtsuki tourism department. 

Erina had stayed at her grandfather’s side, writing the contracts, making the calls, keeping her back straight and her voice steady despite the fact that she had never seen him so weak. 

After the business had been settled, they talked a bit. He told Erina how much she reminded him of her mother, the daughter who had been taken from him too soon. He had rarely talked about it when Erina was a child. Too painful, she supposed. But mostly they just sat, each wholly content and comfortable in the other’s presence. 

“Erina,” he said to her as it neared midnight. Visiting hours had ended long ago, but the Nakiri family was hardly bound by normal protocol. “Is that boy still out there?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I told him already that he could leave.” 

She had told him to go to the Airbnb, back to California, off to Paris, let him know in no uncertain terms that she did not expect him to wait for her. But there he continued to sit in the waiting room, reading yesterday’s paper and chugging what had to be his tenth or twelfth cup of coffee. Idiot. 

“Send him in here,” the former headmaster said. “There’s something I’d like to say to him.” 

Only the gods knew what that meant. 

Author’s Notes: Thanks for reading! I’m thinking I’d like to wrap this story up in one or two more installments and then a short epilogue. The next chapter should resume right where this one leaves off. 

[princessdevy03]

Tumblr Drabble!!!!

Author’s Note: It’s been TWO YEARS this month that I started writing for the KevEdd fandom, and that means we gotta visit my first BIG story that kickstarted my madness that you all love and enjoy apparently.

So here’s something NEW just for Tumblr that I got from a story on Twitter about a senior citizen who’s the Grandpa of his local hospital’s NICU.

We all need to be loved and touched. I hope you find yours.

Love ya!

Here’s a bit more show…

Promises To Keep, Promises Kept: Healing Hands

Edd looked up at the man standing in the doorway to his kitchen and flashed him a smile.

“How was work?”

Kevin shrugged as Edd slid a coffee cup in his direction and said, “They’re all still here, so there’s that.”

“Dinner won’t be done for another twenty minutes,” Edd said with a nod as he turned the temperature on his slow cooker from High to Low, knowing that Kevin would talk about it when he was ready.

“What is it?” Kevin asked as he stood over his husband’s shoulder and peered at the fogged up lid hiding what was inside the pot.

“Chicken chili and I need to get started on the cornbread so move,” Edd grinned as he shoved a whining Kevin out of the kitchen.

Monday nights were still date nights in as they had been for the past forty years, but over the years since they got married and had kids, they would have to get creative.

When Brighton and Antonia were younger, they’d have dinner together after the kids went to bed. When the kids got older, they’d do a family night and watch the Monday Night Football game or whatever kid’s movie or TV show was trendy at the time.

But the kids were long gone and they had grandkids now.

Kevin retired five years ago and Edd’s work duties over the last ten years had moved him into an advisory role which allowed him to direct field trips at the planetarium, give talks at the local elementary schools, guest lecture at the junior college and occasionally Peach State, and spend as much free time in the lab as his lecture series and field trip duties would allow.

So while Edd was out at work, Kevin was home and bored.

Day trips on the Harley could only be taken during the warmer days, and while their home on the coast provided plenty of that, there were days where the weather would cooperate on the way out, but not back. This led to Edd picking him up in the truck and that lead to so much teasing that he became just as good as their favorite weatherman on predicting good weather days over bad. Or he would find something he knew Edd would want to come see, too, but couldn’t because of work or sometimes their friends and family. So the ride wouldn’t be as nice as he had wanted it to be. Which just wasn’t cool for the coolest guy he knew next to Edd.

Friends and family would visit often and Antonia and her family stayed in town, so they got to see her kids a lot, but he wasn’t feeling as fulfilled as he used to when he had a job.

Work wasn’t work, it was a purpose.

Helping young men stay healthy and teaching them the games he loved was something he didn’t take lightly, no matter how easy so many said he had it.

Wrangling teenage boys was not an easy task to begin with. The general horseplay, bonding with friends, and heaps of testosterone in one spot was a doozy to handle. Edd often likened it to herding cats and Kevin had to agree. Then there was the added pressure of keeping them focused when their hormones, family and societal pressures, and own insecurities had them all over the place.

But after thirty plus years, his body just couldn’t handle the cold on the football field, the heat of the ball diamond, or just trying to keep up with nearly 150 boys for a good 5 hours a day.

So he took his balls and went home.

At first he would keep up on all of their chores, but that soon became such a quick and easy task that he would damn near beg Edd to leave the house be for a couple of days to give himself something to do later. But his mysophobic husband could only barely comply with the request.

Volunteer opportunities with the graduate chapters of their college honor societies would usually happen on the weekends, still leaving him with nothing to do during the week.

And it was more of the same at the YMCA.

But then the opportunity of a second lifetime came.

He had taken their youngest granddaughter, Monica, to a regular doctor’s appointment at the hospital and overheard one of the nurses talking about how their summer volunteer group was going to all but disappear since nearly all the volunteers were students who had to go back to school in the fall, leaving them strapped during the week.

On the one hand, hospitals meant needles and the idea of seeing so many little bodies getting poked and prodded in an effort to save their young lives still terrified him.

But then he remembered all they went through to keep Brighton alive and how many volunteers stepped in to help them do it.

He felt a bit like an idiot for not thinking of this before, especially because they were always at the hospital for different charity events to help thank the people who worked so hard to keep their son alive during those first few crucial months after he was born.

But better late than never.

So he called the hospital’s charity liaison and he directed him to the couple that was in charge of the volunteers.

For the first few weeks, he was all over the place.

A few hours in the social worker’s office to try and keep children calm and distracted following an incident at home, a couple of days in the ICU bringing the hurried doctors and nurses breakfast and lunch.

But it was the week in the maternity ward that brought him to where he truly needed to be.

Delivering flowers to new moms, lunch to frantic fathers, cookies to the rushed medical staff reminded him of his own days on the floor.

So he put in a request for the NICU.

Permanently.

The high turnover on the floor could be nerve wracking because so many people come in with high hopes of sending happy, healthy children home, only for them to be dashed in hours, mere minutes because of the fragility of life.

But he knew that holding on to hope is what kept humanity going no matter how many times we lost.

Edd would make him coffee when he came home and listen to his stories of tiny babies fighting and winning and fighting but losing.

The stories would change from day to day, but the overall theme was still the same; he was on a team that played to win.

On days like today where things ended in a draw of sorts with all the patients still there, they would take a deep breath and rest and Kevin would go back the next day to fight again.

Over chicken chili and corn bread he told him about the advancements medicine had made since Brighton made his early entrance into the world.

How a tiny little intersex baby named Mel, smiled today.

How precious Renee actually got to nurse for a few minutes before just tiring out and going back to sleep.

How Taylor made it through his second heart surgery in a month.

And how twins Lynette and Lionel just might, maybe go home next week.

It reminded Edd of when Brighton was in the hospital and Kevin would spend hours in the nursery with him, meeting families like their own, holding their son and a couple of other babies for frazzled parents who just didn’t have enough arms and hands to help.

He had always told him that he would make a great father and having a kid of his own was all he ever wanted for them.

They got their wish with Antonia and raising their family together was all he could ever had hoped, wished for, or imagined.

But in giving him Brighton, Edd felt like he got to give their little part of the world the love of a McCallister lass and the hands of a Barr man it so desperately needed.

And when Kevin found it in himself to give it as well, so many were better for it.

*Ping*

Kevin looked over at his phone which was charging on their charging pad in the kitchen as Edd did the dishes and opened the new Facebook alert from Brighton.

Brighton “ Big B Man” Vincent-Barr: Papa’s back at it again! We’ll be home soon! Tristan said to save some tickles for the rest of us!

Attached to the post was another post from the hospital highlighting their various volunteers. And the one they chose for the NICU was of Kevin giving some touch therapy through an incubator to a baby that would was no bigger than his fist.

He groaned as he sat the phone face down on the counter, but no sooner had he done so, Edd snatched it up and squealed at what he saw.

“Edd.”

“Oh my God, this is soooooo cute!” He giggled. “Why didn’t he tag me?! He’s grounded,” he said as he put Kevin’s phone down, grabbed his own and shared the hospital’s post to his own page.

“Edd.”

*Ping*

Another tagged post from the hospital looked back at him and he blushed as he read the caption.

Eddward “Double Dee” Vincent-Barr: A Father’s healing touch.

“Oh, c’mon, Dee!”

“But that’s what it is!” Edd giggled as he put both of their phones down and took Kevin’s face into his hands. “We all need to be touched and touch can heal, you know that, Kev.”

Frustrated green eyes looked into his smiling own and Edd snorted.

“But why they gotta use me?” The redhead whined and Edd outright laughed.

“Because you’re cute. Duh.”

Cool hands started to warm because of the red cheeks they were caressing and Edd gave him Eskimo kisses as he said, “It’s a good thing, Kev.”

“I know,” Kevin whispered.

“You’re a great father, you’re an awesome grandfather, and an even better husband.”

Despite what he considered some poor decisions on his part his freshman year of high school, asking for Edd’s help with his studies when he did, despite Edd being a grade behind him and really not all that prepared to help, he knew he was tremendously blessed to have the man in his life.

But to hear him say that he was all those things he tried his damnedest to be in a world that sometimes would say he shouldn’t, was always an endearing compliment he couldn’t ever believe.

“Yeah?”

Edd looked into shy, disbelieving green eyes and shook his head as he gave him real smile.

“Yeah.”

Big blue eyes that never lied and a smile that was just for him.

And it was Monday.

“Wanna watch the game and makeout?”

Edd, as always, beat him to the couch.

The Kansas City Chiefs beat the Oakland Raiders 24-7. 

[autolycusimp]

It’s Nachi’s birthday today and you know I’m about to do something right now. I’ve loved this guy for 7 years now, and I still secretly hope he gets his time to shine in Saint Seiya. 

Until then, I have 20 head canons for my Wolf Saint. One for every day of the month I should’ve been doing. But I didn’t because I am zapped of all creative energy. 

Quick reminder that these are my head-canons. Some may differ from others. ISome are about his prefrences, how he gets along with people, his background and even his training days in Bomi Hills. 

Headcanon #1

Nachi is fully fluent in English and Japanese. He was born in Japan but raised in Oxford, England by his mother and grandparents. The accent stuck around even after he left. I always pictured Nachi to sound similar to Gavin Free of Rooster Teeth when he speaks English.

I think the main reason why I headcanon Nachi as British is mostly because of this video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y2F3ZWEEbF4&t=238s

Michael Jones vaguely reminded me of Jabu, because of the short temper. And Nachi messing around would make Jabu fly into a rage. There’s more videos of Gavin and Michael, but this Minecraft one takes the cake:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A_drIby275I

Headcanon #2

His favorite desserts are: raspberry ripple ice cream, eton mess and trifles. He’ll try other desserts, but his preference is primarily British.    

Headcanon #3

If Hyoga is the best dancer of the Main Bronze Saints, then Nachi is the best dancer for the Secondary Bronze Saints. Hyoga is focused more on ballet, and Nachi is content with dance aerobics. The two end up being friends because of shared interests. They also discover that their mothers both studied and danced for the same ballet company in Paris (more on that later).  

Of course, he keeps this a secret from the rest of the group. But people notice how graceful and fluid his movements are anyway.

Headcanon #4

The Gen Ma Ken attack ended up affecting Nachi’s sleeping pattern and he ended up with insomnia for several months. Granted, as a Saint, his body has more endurance than any other mortal, but he had to get medication so he could sleep. Afterwards, he was able to go back to bed with no problem.

Headcanon #5

Nachi talks in his sleep. It totally caught everyone off guard, but eventually they decide to roll with it. The rest of the losers place bets to see who can hold a conversation the longest with Nachi. So far, Ban is in the lead.    

Headcanon #6

Nachi’s the type of guy to overheat in his sleep, so he wears boxers to bed. He’ll put on PJ pants if there are overnight guests. (Unlike Ichi, who would sleep in the nude regardless of who’s over.)

Headcanon #7

Nachi has the ability to talk himself out of any fight (when it’s not Saint-related). However, he STILL can kick your ass if you push his buttons enough. This goes mostly for non-Saint related fights. He’s a low-tier Bronze Saint, but his strength can severely hurt anyone.  

Headcanon #8

Out of all the bronze saints, Jabu is Nachi’s closest friend. The two have each other’s back when unpacking some painful stuff or when they’re just going out for drinks and hitting on girls along the way. When Jabu needs some time off, Nachi will often times step in as leader.

Headcanon #9

Nachi has no idea who his biological father is, but he knows he’s still alive in France.

His mother told him that she met his father in Paris while she was working in a ballet company. He was a student activist and lived a life of danger for the greater good. She was absolutely smitten with him and he soon took a liking to her. She fought by his side, and this clashed with her schoolwork. She gave up her dreams of being a performer so she could stay with him.

But the relationship was very turbulent, and they got together just as quickly as they broke up. Eventually, his mother found out she was pregnant. She went to tell her lover the news, unsure of what he would say. He looked at her, smiled and laughed. She was confused and asked him what he found so funny. He simply smiled at her and said:

“Oh, ma chérie, you should know by now that my significant other is revolution! I can’t have a child slow me down...”

And she never saw him again. It’s safe to say, Nachi absolutely despises the shit out of his biological father.

Headcanon #10

Nachi’s mother took him to go see some friends in Japan. While driving to Tokyo in the middle of a storm, they got into a car crash. Nachi’s mother was in the hospital, her life hanging by a thread. But it was very clear there was a slim chance of her surviving. Nachi told the doctors he had family in England, and they were busy trying to contact his grandparents.

At the time, Mitsumasa Kido was busy searching for orphaned boys to become Saints. He was visiting one of his hospitals where he found Nachi crying. He learned that the boy had lost his mother and was “technically” an orphan. Mitsumasa Kido “adopted” Nachi and had people sign and complete the paperwork.

By the time Nachi’s grandparents went to go and find Nachi, he was gone. Mitsumasa Kido had told the doctors to tell them he and his mother perished in the car accident, but his grandfather wasn’t convinced. Mitsumasa Kido had to pull several strings so they would stray off his trail. So Nachi ends up going to Bomi Hills, training and receiving the Wolf Cloth.  

Headcanon #11

During his years of training in Bomi Hills, he met someone there. She lived in a neighboring village with her grandmother; a woman who inherited a diamond mine and held a lot of power. That woman was named Madame Barbara; a Johannesburg resident with Dutch background.    

Humans need human contact to survive, and Saint training was brutal. Nachi found support in this little sheltered red-haired girl. Her grandmother hated him but he didn’t understand why. He found out later by the redhead; her grandmother saw Nachi as a troublemaker and wanted him far away from her granddaughter. Finding her demands silly, Nachi and the redhead found a way to see each other in secret and away from the public eye. He gave her the name Mizuki, so she would know he was nearby.

As the years passed and Nachi went through the stages of discovering and strengthening his Cosmo, he too started to feel something  for the girl. The feeling was mutual, but sometimes fate isn’t on your side. Mizuki’s grandmother started to grow more and more vicious towards Nachi and she would now throw her frustrations towards Mizuki with verbal abuse. After Nachi won the Wolf Cloth, he asked Mizuki to come to Japan with him. She agreed and gave him her necklace so she can come back for it later.

The Graude Foundation sent a ship to pick up Nachi, but Mizuki was nowhere to be found. He waited for a few hours, but still nothing. Nachi was sure something was wrong, so he head towards Mizuki’s home. He confronts Madame Barbara and wants to know where Mizuki is. Madame Barbara avoids the question, but gives him an ultimatum.

She wants the Gold Cloth. And in return, she’ll give him Mizuki and leave the both alone. Nachi agrees to the deal but still demands to see Mizuki. Mizuki hugs him and tells Nachi she had no other choice but to do as her grandmother said. Nachi promises to win the Gold Cloth, and he’ll come back to get her. He keeps the necklace and head back to Japan on a mission.

But you know Nachi gets fucked up in the end.

Headcanon #12

What happened in Liberia leaves Nachi with some trust issues. He doesn’t like to show his emotions in public, because he’s paranoid that someone would use this against him. That doesn’t mean he won’t give love a chance, it’s just that it takes time for him to fully open himself.

Headcanon #13

Nachi is a fucking softie. He’s romantic, but doesn’t do public displays of affection. He prefers to keep things personal and between his significant other. When he gives his partner a gift, you bet it’ll be unique to them. He’s a sucker for cuddling and holding hands. Playing with his hair is also a plus.

Headcanon #14

I headcanon him as bisexual.  

Headcanon #15

Nachi’s favorite food is pizza.

Headcanon #16

During the summer is when Nachi’s freckles really pop. He has a splatter of freckles on the bridge of his nose and cheeks. They mostly accumulate on his shoulders, his back and on his chest.

Headcanon #17

Since his birthday is in the summer, he likes to throw a party for him and his close friends. He doesn’t have a problem letting loose with them.

Headcanon #18

Nachi’s favorite bands are, in no particular order: Wham!, Def Leppard, Van Halen, Whitesnake, The Scorpions and Duran Duran. (Hungry Like The Wolf, anyone?)  

Headcanon #19

Nachi’s alcoholic drink of choice is champagne. But he isn’t picky and will drink whatever is presented.

Headcanon #20

Slightly NSWF-ish. The most sensitive parts of Nachi’s body are his chest and stomach. He reacts almost immediately if someone touches him there. Ichi would try to tickle him and ended up getting a black eye that lasted for a week.

 --]

I’m debating of whether or not continuing the final 11 days with plot-specific stuff that concerns Nachi, but I’m still not sure.  

[tardisgirlepic]

Ch 2 “The Pilot” Analysis Doctor Who S10: The Characters’ Journeys

Time & Character Roles

Time is a huge factor in this episode.  We know the Doctor executed a bootstrap paradox, but Time is referred to 27 times in various ways, for example:

·      TARDIS: Time and Relative Dimension in Space – this is the first time we hear the Doctor say, “It means life.”  Wow!

·      The Doctor has been lecturing at the university for a long time 50-70 or so years!  Wow!

·      The Doctor tells Bill not to be late because he’s particular about time.  Wow!

·      The Doctor says, “Time doesn't pass”

Bill and the Doctor, especially in the subtext, are very different at the beginning of the episode than they are at the end.  In fact, “The Pilot” is a study in how characters and subtext characterizations change over Time.

Instead of discussing everything about each of the characters all at once, it’s important to establish who they are initially and why they are in the roles they are at the beginning of the episode.  Bill is a complex character, who becomes more complex, or at least it’s recognizable as the episode goes on.  Then, we can compare what’s happening later.

The Opening Scene: Our First Look at the Characters

Who Is Bill?

At the beginning of “The Pilot,” Nardole shows Bill into the Doctor’s office, and we see this image below. Bill is standing next to Joshua Reynold’s A Bachante, which is portrait of Emma Hart, later Lady Hamilton, who was Admiral Nelson’s mistress.  One of the interesting things about this particular portrait is that the British Museum has a print.  The museum is the setting for the Library episodes, as well as the Pandorica.

 In a previous chapter, we saw the image below from “In the Forest of the Night,” which told us that Admiral Nelson was a metaphor for the Doctor, and I should also add Clara. Both nearly got crushed by the monument when it fell.  Nelson fell in battle, which tells us the Doctor is going to fall in battle.

 Because Bill has Big Hair, a metaphor for River, Bill is also a mirror for River.

The Doctor wants to know why Bill is coming to his lectures even though she’s not a student.  She tells him this story of how she sees a beautiful university student and gives her extra chips but the woman doesn’t notice Bill, until one day when things change.  However, Bill realizes she’s changed the woman by making her fat, but she doesn’t care.  

It’s an odd story, but it has 4 purposes:

·      “Fat” is another reference to the 9th Doctor episode “Bad Wolf,” so I’m expecting Rose to show up in Season 10 DOCTOR: So the population just sits there? Half the world's too fat, and half the world's too thin, and you lot just watch telly?

·      By changing the woman who eats chips, Bill mirrors the Doctor changing those who travel with him; Bill calls what she did to the woman a perversion.  Perhaps that is why the Doctor decides to take up a university post

·      “Chips” is a reference to Rose being the dinner lady in the 10th Doctor’s story “School Reunion,” where we first saw Sarah Jane and Rose together

·      Heather (the Doctor) changes but Bill doesn’t care

Bill starts out mirroring Rose by design because Moffat wants us to know that this story is going back to at least Rose.  Like her, Bill is working way below her potential, and the Doctor knows it. 

When Bill asks the Doctor why he is helping her, he looks at Susan, so Bill is mirroring, most likely, Susan, too.

 The TARDIS & Dimension Vs. Dimensions

The TARDIS is a character in its own right.  Before we see the Doctor, Bill walks over to the TARDIS.  It’s looking neglected for a couple of reasons.  First, it needs a new coat of paint.  Second, there’s the Out of Order sign.  The 1st Doctor would use the sign, showing up for the first time in “The War Machines” episode.

 The TARDIS & the Parallel Dimension

I’m not exactly sure what to call the universe the Doctor is in.  It might be a parallel dimension or dimensional plane since the Doctor used “dimension” instead of “dimensions” when giving the definition of the acronym for TARDIS. 

Interestingly, he is using Susan’s definition for the TARDIS acronym from the very first DW episode “The Unearthly Child.” It’s another nice callback that tells us he has gone back to the 1st Doctor’s story.

SUSAN: The Tardis can go anywhere.

BARBARA: Tardis? I don't understand you, Susan.

SUSAN: Well, I made up the name Tardis from the initials, Time And Relative Dimension In Space. I thought you'd both understand when you saw the different dimensions inside from those outside.

While “dimension” is an allusion to Susan’s acronym, it feels like this is even more of a clue to where they are.

 Who Is Nardole?

Nardole’s hand looks like it is holding up the Emma Hart portrait above.  His arm, for one, is creaky.  This suggests to me that he potentially is the Hand of Omega.  He actually is a face of the Doctor, representing the alien child, who has a lot of fears and who is a cyborg. 

In THORS, once he got integrated into Hydroflax, Nardole was afraid of heights and flying.  That represented the Doctor’s fear of flying.  Since the Doctor has to rid himself of fears and other negative emotions for the Great Work, he had to face flying with Grant in TRODM. 

Nardole loses a part (red arrow) and kicks it under the furniture, which seems like it will play a part in a future episode.

Nardole’s creakiness, like the neglected paint on the TARDIS, suggests the Doctor is neglecting himself in an effort to settle down and make a home for himself because of promises.  The Doctor has needed Nardole to keep reminding him to live.

 The Doctor’s Granddaughter

I was SO excited to see the photograph of Susan Foreman on the Doctor’s desk.  This is an example of how we are finally seeing this very long 50-year+ story being tied together in such important ways. 

While her photo and frame aren’t exactly a circle and a square, the Circle in the Square metaphor of uniting opposites still holds.  Susan looked like she was becoming a djinni as her episodes went on.

In the 1st Doctor stories, Susan and the Doctor were enigmas.  He seemed like a devious, petulant child and she, although looking like a teenager, seemed like the much smarter, wiser adult in the relationship.

The last time we saw her was in the 5th Doctor’s story for the 20th anniversary, “The Five Doctors.” 

However, the last time she was a regular was in the 1st Doctor’s story, “The Dalek Invasion of Earth.”  The Doctor promised to come back to see her.

DOCTOR: One day, I shall come back. Yes, I shall come back. Until then, there must be no regrets, no tears, no anxieties.

He didn’t really come back for her in “The Five Doctors.”

 Is She Really Who We Think She Is?

When she, the Doctor, Ian, and Barbara were exposed to radiation, she was the only one who had few symptoms of illness while the others got very sick, especially the Doctor. This is just one example of how she seemed different.  I really doubt that he was her grandfather.  I think that they had to take on those human roles to survive.  Because Time Lords can regenerate into older or younger forms, we can’t be sure those roles were correct, unless we get more information.

Anyway, the mystery of who they were extended to what started to happen in the TARDIS.  Controls would move by themselves.  Was it related to the Doctor adding sentience to the TARDIS? It seemed more than that to me. They ended up suggesting it was the TARDIS trying to warn them of a disaster, but I’m not convinced.  It’s just the sort of misdirection that DW loves to use.

Oddities extended outside the TARDIS too.  For example, an injury to the party ended up becoming permanent to someone else.  It was like injury as a plague, although on a more singular level.  Thoughts becoming reality seemed to be happening there, too.

I need to go back and watch all the 1st Doctor stories to get a better idea of what was happening.  However, it looked like some type of invisible creature was in the TARDIS, and it possessed different people in the ship. On a single viewing of the episodes, I couldn’t tell if it was the Doctor, Susan, or TARDIS causing it, and I stopped watching the 1st Doctor shortly after the Doctor left her in the 29th century.  I’ll get back to watching those episodes at some point after Season 10 is over.   Because the video is in black and white and can be grainy, the subtext clues can be more difficult to decipher.

 River

River is in a square-ish frame here, which is really interesting.  It not only suggests that she has not integrated with the Doctor, but also it implies they are not married.  In fact, there is another portrait behind River of Lady Hamilton from a different artist.  It’s George Romney’s Lady Hamilton in a Straw Hat, 1785.  This is another tie-in between Bill and River.  However, Bill’s portrait from 1784 represents a younger and more carefree version before Emma became Lady Hamilton.

 The Doctor

Because the Season 10 opener is a reboot and part of the bootstrap paradox, we get to see the Doctor in a new light.  The opening scene shows his big office. 

The container on the Doctor’s desk looks like it contains most of the Doctor’s sonic screwdrivers, which is really interesting.  It’s a symbol of him playing most of the Doctors in this episode.  At one point, he doesn’t even recognize his face because he’s really changing constantly.

 Why the Doctor Is a Professor

The Doctor lecturing at a university for many years is an idea from Classic Who. It’s a reference to a 4th Doctor story by Douglas Adams called “Shada.”  However, filming was never completed due to a “labor action.” In the story, Professor Chronitis spent years lecturing at the fictitious St. Cedd’s College, Cambridge.

Since the TARDIS Wikia’s synopsis for “Shada” has some themes that go along with what we’ve been talking about, it seems relevant to show you:

The story revolves around the lost planet Shada, on which the Time Lords built a prison for defeated would-be conquerors of the universe. Skagra, one such inmate, needs the help of one of the prison's inmates. He finds nobody knows where Shada is anymore except one aged Time Lord who has retired to Earth, where he is a professor at St. Cedd's College, Cambridge. Luckily for the universe, Skagra's attempt to force the information out of Professor Chronotis coincides with a visit by the professor's old friend, the Fourth Doctor.

By going hell bent through the universe, the Doctor could be considered a would-be conqueror of it.  Does Bill showing up represent Icarus’ father, Daedalus, fashioning wings for his son so they can fly away from the Labyrinth prison?  Heather, a face of the Doctor, did want to leave.

Also, we know this is not the real universe, and the Doctor is stuck here due to promises, at least in part.

While the 7th Doctor told his new companion, Ace, to call him Doctor, she called him Professor.

“Professor” is a level that refers to the Sun stage of the Great Work.  It can also be a clergyman or orator.  The Christian crosses that we’ve seen can relate to the clergyman, and the orator certainly relates to the Doctor’s speech we see at the beginning of the episode.  It feels like he is giving a TED talk, rather than a lecture.   No wonder the students are enraptured by his talks. 

According to Marie-Louise von Franz, who was a Jungian psychologist and scholar, “words” are a symbol of the professor, clergyman, or orator.  In fact, this is a reference to “Hell Bent,” where words are the Doctor’s weapons. http://www.chakoteya.net/DoctorWho/35-12.html

(The Doctor is lying on his childhood bed, staring at nothing and twiddling his thumbs.) GENERAL [OC]: We could talk to him. RASSILON [OC]: Words are his weapons. GENERAL [OC]: When did they stop being ours?

Because this is the Sun stage, the Doctor hasn’t realized his potential, which is evidenced by the sealed Vault, too.  He has to move on if he is to save everyone.  At the Sun stage, he is still creating a plague, as represented by the plague cross (red arrow) in the image below.

 The Doctor Is a Fish

The Doctor is associated with a fish in this opening scene.  There is a hidden one that shows up in a later scene.  There must be 2 to escape this prison, so it’s significant there is only 1 fish shown.  He is languishing here.

 The Doctor & the Record Label

The Master is referenced in this opening scene while Bill is talking about chips.  The record label, red arrow, says, “His Master’s Voice.” It’s a famous trademark in the music and recording industry.  It’s based on a painting by English artist Francis Barraud and titled His Master's Voice.   So we have the Master and the beast is the dog, Nipper.  They are a reference back to “The Beast Below.”

 The Eye of Harmony on the Doctor’s Desk

Lamps, shown below (white arrows), in the shape of helmets showed up in “The Planet of the Ood,” so we know that lamps can represent helmets and the Eye of Harmony.

 The interesting arrangement on the Doctor’s desk, shown below, of River’s and Susan’s photos along with a crystal ball and a lamp that looks like an eye are meant to symbolize the Eye of Harmony. 

The crystal ball is not only a symbol of prophesies of the Eye, but also the ball symbolizes the distortion of a black hole, represented by the distorted images on the ball. Therefore, River and Susan are part of the Eye of Harmony.  The lamp, helmet, is overlapping River’s frame, while the ball’s shadow falls on Susan. The frames might represent their imprisonment in the Eye, especially Susan since the distortion falls on her image. She may be the center of the Black Hole.

The lamp here is turned off, though, while later it is on, so this would tend to suggest that the Eye is not active right now.  This is an example of how learning to read subtext is a never-ending job.  We need to keep our eye on this arrangement to see how it is used over time.

 Rhymes, Lemons & the Doctor’s Head

Rhymes have a huge amount of associated subtext in nuWho, so one word conjures a great many thoughts about this subject.  This is not an extensive explanation of rhymes, but hopefully, it will give you an idea of what’s happening and some of the referential meanings.

Rhymes have played a big role, especially in nuWho and the 11th Doctor’s stories with Madame Korvarian.  She is the eye patch lady, who is part of the religious movement known as the Silence. However, she broke off into a splinter group, representing the Kovarian Chapter.  She kidnapped Amy and Melody Pond, so we are back to “A Good Man Goes to War.”

Because the 12th Doctor is the focus of all that has happened, it’s not surprising that rhymes would play a big role in Season 10.  In “The Pilot,” the Doctor mentions rhymes twice, making odd comparisons. The first time is when Bill asks why the Doctor was lecturing on poetry when his lecture was supposed to be on quantum physics.

DOCTOR: Poetry, physics, same thing.

BILL: How is it the same?

DOCTOR: Because of the rhymes.

The second time Nardole asks the Doctor about teaching Bill everything:

NARDOLE [OC] Well, how can you teach anyone everything?

DOCTOR [OC]: Because everything rhymes.

The Doctor is associated with Shakespeare (red arrow), a reference to the 10th Doctor story “The Shakespeare Code.” 

Later, the Doctor makes a joke on the Ood-like planet about the sky being made of lemon drops. Coupled with rhymes and the reference to The Man Who Fell to Earth, there is the reference to the morbid rhyme in “The God Complex,” which includes candles.  Not only is the Doctor’s time running out in the image below, his head is on the chopping block, as referenced by the candle holder.

 “The Shakespeare Code”

In “The Shakespeare Code,” 3 witches, who are Carrionites from the Dark Times of the universe, cast a spell on Shakespeare to make him write his lost play Love's Labour's Won.  Performing the play will bring their lost species back.

Shakespeare was the wordsmith, which comes back to the 12th Doctor’s words as a Professor.  Also, the setting was at the Globe Theater, and there just happens to be that globe crystal ball, similar to the one in the Shakespeare episode on the Doctor’s desk in “The Pilot.”

In “The Shakespeare Code,” Shakespeare is the only who can stop the witches, but the 10th Doctor has to make him believe.  This has a direct relationship to what is happening in this 10th season:

(The Doctor runs out onto the stage, followed by Martha and Shakespeare.)

LILITH: The Doctor. He lives. Then watch this world become a blasted heath! (Macbeth) They come. They come!

(Lilith holds the crystal out into the red light and bat-like creatures fly into the theatre. They circle a bit then fly up into the sky.)

DOCTOR: Come on, Will! History needs you!

SHAKESPEARE: But what can I do?

DOCTOR: Reverse it!

SHAKESPEARE: How am I supposed to do that?

DOCTOR: The shape of the Globe gives words power, but you're the wordsmith, the one true genius. The only man clever enough to do it.

SHAKESPEARE: But what words? I have none ready!

DOCTOR: You're William Shakespeare!

SHAKESPEARE: But these Carrionite phrases, the need such precision.

DOCTOR: Trust yourself. When you're locked away in your room, the words just come, don't they, like magic. Words of the right sound, the right shape, the right rhythm. Words that last forever. That's what you do, Will. You choose perfect words. Do it. Improvise.

SHAKESPEARE: Close up this din of hateful, dire decay, decomposition of your witches' plot. You thieve my brains, consider me your toy. My doting Doctor tells me I am not!

Therefore, the 12th Doctor is the only one who can fix this problem with coaxing from the people around him.

 “The God Complex”

In “The God Complex,” besides the Minotaur, there is a reference to the “Oranges and Lemons” nursery rhyme.  According to Wikipedia, "’Oranges and Lemons’ is a traditional English nursery rhyme and singing game which refers to the bells of several churches, all within or close to the City of London.”

“Oranges and Lemons”

Gay go up, and gay go down,

To ring the bells of London town.

 Bull's eyes and targets,

Say the bells of St. Marg'ret's.

 Brickbats and tiles,

Say the bells of St. Giles'.

 Halfpence and farthings,

Say the bells of St. Martin's.

 Oranges and lemons,

Say the bells of St. Clement's.

 Pancakes and fritters,

Say the bells of St. Peter's.

 Two sticks and an apple,

Say the bells at Whitechapel.

 Old Father Baldpate,

Say the slow bells at Aldgate.

 You owe me ten shillings,

Say the bells at St. Helen's.

 Pokers and tongs,

Say the bells at St. John's.

 Kettles and pans,

Say the bells at St. Ann's.

 When will you pay me?

Say the bells of Old Bailey.

 When I grow rich,

Say the bells of Shoreditch.

 Pray when will that be?

Say the bells of Stepney.

 I am sure I don't know,

Says the great bell of Bow.

 Here comes a candle to light you to bed,

And here comes a chopper to chop off your head.

The pokers and tongs, associated with the bells at St. John's, is a reference to the Tower of London. St. John’s is a chapel in the Tower. Therefore, the pokers and tongs represent torture, imprisonment, and decapitation.

Interestingly, Shoreditch is where Coal Hill School is.  Also of interest is the great bell of Bow.  While the Face of Boe is spelled differently, I’m betting that the Face of Boe is a reference to this rhyme.  I won’t be surprised if the Face of Boe shows up because his head is what I think of when the Doctor’s head is on the chopping block.

 St John Ambulance Symbol: Torture & Healing

The St. John Ambulance logo was on the 1st Doctor’s TARDIS; however, it disappeared from Classic Who after that.  In DavMoff eps, the logo showed up near the end of the 11th Doctor’s first episode, “The Eleventh Hour,” and disappears several times when the TARDIS is in flight in certain episodes.  However, it’s always on the TARDIS when grounded.

The St John Ambulance symbol on the TARDIS is a symbol of both torture and healing.  The St John part refers to the Tower of London. However, the Ambulance part really does refer to healing.  The Doctor is going through torture to be healed from the war and all leading up to it.

Torture conjures up a lot of subtext, too.  However, we need to look back to the Library and how the 12th Doctor, not being with River in the Library before she dies and River telling the 10th Doctor their future, set him into a torturous loop.

 Stuck in Looped Time

One of the main themes is how Time changes the Doctor, and the best example is at the end of the episode. (I’m putting it here because I believe we have been stuck in looped time.)

The Doctor just went through a tizzy in his office because he promised not to use his TARDIS (his mental powers).  However, he decided to break his promises.

DOCTOR: It's a big universe, but maybe one day we'll find her.

(The Doctor is standing next to the Tardis.)

BILL: What changed your mind?

DOCTOR: Time.  

BILL: Time?

DOCTOR: And Relative Dimension In Space.

(He clicks his fingers and the Tardis door opens.)

DOCTOR: It means, what the hell?

(Bill joins him in the Tardis.)

Bootstrap paradoxes can create problems because one can become stuck in a loop.  For example, because the 12th Doctor was not there to be with River in the Library just before she died, the 10th Doctor had to save her.  River enslaves the Doctor with knowledge of their future on Darillium. 

Knowing when one’s beloved is going to die and having to decide their time of death is a horrific burden to bear, but that’s what the Doctor has had to live with.  This is echoed in “A Christmas Carol” with Kazran Sardick, who is a mirror of the Doctor.  Kazran is keeping Abigail on ice because she has one day left to live. (This mirrors how the Doctor was ignoring Darillium and River’s wish of spending the night of her life with him.) Sardick asks the Doctor about the all-too-painful subject:  http://www.chakoteya.net/DoctorWho/32-0.htm

SARDICK: Could you do it? Could you do this? Think about it, Doctor. One last day with your beloved. Which day would you choose?

This set up looped time. And this has to change, or Gallifrey has to be time-locked or moved, for example.  This is really a chicken and the egg problem.  Did this looped-time problem first start with River or the Doctor?

Did the Doctor execute another bootstrap paradox to try to fix the Library problem?  That’s what we are watching.  The end of the episode certainly suggests this is true.

 24 Years with River, Doctor Faustus & Payment in Hell?

Is DW doing Doctor Faustus?  I’ve had this question since I first saw the end of THORS with the Doctor spending 24 years with River.  Twenty-four is a very suspect number, especially since it’s equivalent to 24 hours in a day.  It can mean 2 Doctors, which we know she was spending time with from the 11th Doctor’s episodes.  Twenty-four years also is representative of the number of years Faustus had on Earth.

BTW, River mentioned that the Doctor took her to the Frost Fair in 1814 in “A Good Man Goes to War.” We are going to be visiting the Frost Fair in 1814 in Season 10.  Bill represents River, in part.

 Doctor Faustus

According to Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doctor_Faustus_(play)

The Tragical History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus, commonly referred to simply as Doctor Faustus, is an Elizabethan tragedy by Christopher Marlowe, based on German stories about the title character Faust, that was first performed sometime between 1588 and Marlowe's death in 1593.

Faustus's tale is likened to that of Icarus, who flew too close to the sun and fell to his death when the sun melted his waxen wings. This is a hint to Faustus's end as well as bringing to the reader's attention the idea of hubris (excessive pride), which is represented in the Icarus story and ultimately Faustus'.

Here’s another tie-in to the Icarus story, so it seems that the Doctor is paying in Hell for all that’s happened.

Faustus strikes a Deal with Lucifer: he is to be allotted 24 years of life on Earth, during which time he will have Mephistophilis as his personal servant and the ability to use magic; however, at the end he would give his body and soul over to Lucifer as payment and spend the rest of time as one damned to Hell.

When Faustus announces his intention to renounce magic and repent, Mephistophilis storms away. The good and evil angels return to Faustus: the good angel urges him to repent and recant his oath to Lucifer, but the evil angel sneers that Faustus will never repent. This is the largest fault of Faustus throughout the play: he is blind to his own salvation and remains set on his soul's damnation.

Here’s a reference to metaphorical blindness.  This is very true with what we’ve seen.

 Heather, Possession & Healing

Heather is a very interesting character from a subtext point of view, especially since she most likely represents the wife of the 1st Doctor.  I’m going with that assumption here.  She and Bill have a love-at-first-sight thing going, or is it?

I actually don’t think so, and I believe it comes back to the blood calling blood that the 11th Doctor mentioned in “Hide” when they went “ghost” hunting.  Because the Doctor has done memory wipes and is stuck in a loop, they’ve most likely met before, just like the Doctor and Bill, which is suggested by Bill wearing the same clothes at the beginning and end of the episode.  He knows whom he’s supposed to take in the TARDIS when he meets them, as he told Clara in “The Snowmen.”  However, he doesn’t know why.

It’s possessed Heather, whom I find interesting, because of the symbology.  Not only does the water coming off her represent “The Waters of Mars,” but it and her shrieking also represent the Siren from “The Curse of the Black Spot.”  Bill and Heather are out on the lawn outside of the Doctor’s office.  Bill, shown below (red arrow), represents the light side of the light and dark pattern, while Heather (yellow arrow) represents the dark side, the shadow side.  She symbolizes The Ghost, the Shadow Child, the Hybrid.  This also symbolizes the Doctor fearing himself.

The Siren: Death & Healing

Death Lure

“The Curse of the Black Spot” has a lot of similarities to “The Pilot” and to the missing crew of the Mary Celeste.  The TARDIS is marooned onboard a 17th century pirate ship while the crew is being lured to their deaths by the mysterious Siren. 

Those who are wounded end up with a black spot on their palm.  It’s a sign they will fall under the spell of the Siren’s song while she metaphorically lures them to their deaths.  One by one the crew disappear. 

In “The Pilot,” with Heather chasing them around the universe without giving up (sounds familiar), the Doctor’s fears takes over.  Trying to kill Heather symbolizes trying to kill himself because he is so afraid of what he was prophesized to do.

The Doctor mentions sterilization and fire when talking about Heather, a reference to the Black Spot episode.

DOCTOR:  Plan! Basic sterilisation. We're going to run that thing through the deadliest fire in the universe.

 Rory Drowns & Heals

Rory becomes affected. When the Doctor and Amy try to keep Rory from being lured by the Siren’s spell, the Siren screeches like possessed Heather.  While the Doctor and Amy try to save him, Rory falls overboard.  The Doctor realizes Rory’s only hope is the Siren.

The Doctor, Amy, and the captain purposely let themselves get taken by the Siren, too, and find the bridge of an alien ship.  Is this happening now in DW?  Later, there are a lot of similarities:

AVERY: We're on a ghost ship.

DOCTOR: No. It's real. Space ship trapped in a temporal rift.

AMY: How can two ships be in the same place?

DOCTOR: Not the same. Two planes, two worlds, two cars parked in the same space. There are lots of different universes nested inside each other. Now and again they collide, and you can step from one to the other.

A few minutes later, they find the sickbay and see Rory is on life support after he drowned.  The captain’s son is there on life support, too.

DOCTOR: Amy, stop. Don't interfere. Don't touch him. Anaesthetic, tissue sample, screen, sterile working conditions. Ignore all my previous theories!

AMY: Yeah? Well, we stopped paying attention a while back.

DOCTOR: She's not a killer at all, she's a doctor!

(Amy stops fiddling with Rory's life support and the Siren returns to green.)

DOCTOR: This is an automated sick bay. It's teleporting everyone on board. The crew are dead, and so the sick bay has had nothing to do. It's been looking after humanity whilst it's been idle. Look at her. A virtual doctor able to sterilise a whole room.

AMY: Able to burn your face off.

DOCTOR: She's just an interface, seeped through the join between the planes, broadcast in our world. Protean circuitry means she can change her form, and become a human doctor for humans. Oh, sister, you are good.

AVERY: She won't let us take them.

DOCTOR: She's keeping them alive, but she doesn't know how to heal them.

Amy has to take Rory off life support and save him.

In “The Pilot,” the Doctor looks Heather-Dalek in the eye, shown below.  He’s looking eye-to-eye with himself, so to speak, the same way the girl in “The Beast Below” looked at the Star Whale and realized it wasn’t the terrible beast she thought it was.  He begins to understand who Heather is in relationship to himself.

DOCTOR: Her last conscious thought, driving her across the universe. Never underestimate a crush.

NARDOLE: Oh, you don't have to tell me.

BILL: What do we do?

DOCTOR: I don't know. She's not chasing you, she's inviting you. Release her. Release her from her promise.

Nardole’s line is talking about the Doctor.

As Bill and Heather reach out toward each other, the Doctor’s fears take over.  The lure of death - he’s talking about himself and how time travel is a lure, a trap.  It changes his companions, trapping them in his life, and kills them.

DOCTOR [OC]: Bill, listen to me. Whatever she's showing you, whatever she's letting you see. It's a lure, it's a trap. She's making you part of her, and you can never come back.

BILL [OC]: I see what you see. It's beautiful.

DOCTOR: Bill, let go! You have to let go! She is not human any more.

 He doesn’t want to lure people to their deaths.  He doesn’t want to be the Star Whale.

Rory’s death is a metaphor for the Doctor’s death.  Rory’s healing foreshadows the Doctor’s.

 The Tears

The Doctor can psychically affect those around him, which is one reason he isn’t supposed to get involved. This is a superpower spelled out for Time Lords in Classic Who canon.

HEATHER: Goodbye, Bill. (Bill lets go. The Doctor pulls her away from Heather.) DOCTOR: Bill! (Heather dissolves into a puddle.) DOCTOR: You all right? BILL: Yeah, I think so. NARDOLE: You don't look all right. DOCTOR: She's fine. NARDOLE: That's the Doctor for you. Never notices the tears. BILL: I don't think they're mine.

He feels things a lot more deeply than he wants people to know.  And he has to run away to prevent doing more harm.

 Promises

The 1st Doctor made a promise to come back to see Susan.  Wow that was a long time ago!  Will we see the 1st Doctor?  I hope so. Obviously, it won’t be William Hartnell, but that’s OK.

The 12th Doctor made a promise to Clara in “Under the Lake” before we see the Doctor’s ghost:

DOCTOR: I'll get you and the others out. Sit tight, I'll come back for you.

In the sequel, “Before the Flood,” Clara programmed him to come back:

CLARA: Not with me! Die with whoever comes after me. You do not leave me. DOCTOR: Clara, I need to talk to you just on your own. (They pick up their respective handsets.) DOCTOR: Listen to me. We all have to face death eventually, be it ours or someone else's. CLARA: I'm not ready yet. I don't want to think about that, not yet. DOCTOR: I can't change what's already happened. There are rules. CLARA: So break them. And anyway, you owe me. You've made yourself essential to me. You've given me something else to, to be. And you can't do that and then die. It's not fair. DOCTOR: Clara. CLARA: No. Doctor, I don't care about your rules or your bloody survivor's guilt. If you love me in any way, you'll come back. Doctor, are you?

Rory made a promise to Amy while she was in the Pandorica to protect her.  The Pandorica is in the Library metaphor.  Is the Vault in “The Pilot” meant to represent the Pandorica?

The Wizard of Oz & Through the Looking Glass

I'm going to post this here because The Wizard of Oz and Through the Looking Glass relate to ideas in the next section. However, I should have posted this with the previous chapter on influential novels. While I'm only giving a few details here, though, of how it relates to the next section, these novels have been influential throughout nuWho, especially with the 12th Doctor's arc.

Things are becoming more mysterious in this episode, which has the feeling of the 1st and 7th Doctors.  I’m ecstatic about that because we’re going to see answers to questions I’ve had for many years, specifically why the canon says Time Lords have superpowers that we’ve never seen them use, other than the Sisterhood of Karn.

The Wizard of Oz promises the same thing that “Time Heist” promises.  When the mission is over, the Doctor gets to wake up, so to speak, and remember his family.  The Doctor goes to Australia because the country is sometimes colloquially called "Oz," showing us yet another reference to The Wizard of Oz.  The actress, Carole Ann Ford, who played Susan, is still alive, so I’m really expecting her to show up because when the Doctor completes the mission, he should become fully conscious and see his family.  

Through the Looking Glass opens up to a fantastic world that is based on chess.  (The Doctor, of course, has a chessboard in his office.)  In the story, most of the characters, including animals are chess pieces.  Alice, too, is a pawn, just like we’ve seen with the Doctor, Clara, and some of the other characters.  There are 2 looking glasses, shown below, on the Doctor’s desk: one big and one small, referencing Through the Looking Glass.

TRODM also had a very Through the Looking Glass feel and even Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.  At the beginning, we fly through the comic panel that says, “That night...,” going down the rabbit hole and through the looking glass.

In fact, the flamingo sign in TRODM, shown below, is a reference to Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland where live flamingoes are used as tools, as mallets in the croquet game.  The tool, a reference to the Doctor being a broom in “Deep Breath,” is missing.  The Flamingo doesn’t want to be part of the game any longer.  This most likely ties into the missing pilot in the Season 10 opener.

Christmas

Sadly, the Doctor is stuck in a rut – status quo, which is what the green crown represents in the image below.  That’s also supported by his 50-70 years spent teaching on Earth. He is not moving forward, but becoming more human and regressing to a more impure state, which is common at the Sun stage of psychological development.  Being alone is a terrible thing for him, and Nardole does not represent the push toward enlightenment that he needs.  The crowns represent an integration, though.

The twist about the Professor metaphor is that it’s a level of animus development, which corresponds to the unconscious of a woman with the masculine inner personality of the animus.  This corresponds to the gender change.  To support that, the Doctor was in the women’s restroom with Bill because he is male and female.  Actually, what is happening is that he really is the little girl Missy mentioned but had to hide for fear of getting enslaved.  I’ll show you why in the future.

Therefore, in the subtext River will become the Doctor, and vice versa.  This suggests, they will become One symbolically in a Sacred Marriage, representing oneness with the universe.  But this is a Mother of God consciousness level.  I’ve seen this in the subtext for a long time, and I’ll admit that this was confusing when I first encountered it. For a while, the Doctor and River in the subtext have seemed to be swapping roles.  We’ve also got the DoctorDonna and the unofficial DoctorClara.

We’ve already seen the Sacred Marriage with CAL in the Library.  In “Forest of the Dead,” River has to integrate herself into the computer to save the Library and everyone in it because CAL is self-destructing.  However, it also takes the 12th Doctor to create her sonic screwdriver and the 10th Doctor to upload her living consciousness to the computer. It’s the power of 3.

River, at the end, represents the Mother of God consciousness, shown below. The 2 children on the left were Donna’s. CAL is on the right with a flamingo (red arrow) on her bed.  CAL has accepted her role as the Flamingo, the tool, the Star Whale.  However, by uniting with River, this represents uniting with her family.  The bad things in the Library are gone because CAL is whole again.

Essentially, in TRODM the Doctor is in self-destruct mode, represented by the spacecraft exploding (kind of), foreshadowing his alchemical death, which is like CAL going into self-destruct mode in the Library. 

In “The Pilot,” the Doctor has taken a step backward from that, but he has an hourglass on his desk, shown below.  The sand has almost run out.  This was filmed before Peter Capaldi knew he was leaving, so this all was going to happen anyway.  The Sun has to die (alchemically) to move onto the Red stage.

 “The Husbands of River Song,” the Sun & the Vaults

The Sun having to die to move onto the Red stage explains why River in THORS has to die at the end of the night on Darillium.  She is the sunset, as shown below.

In THORS, she was on a mission to save the Doctor, even though it didn’t look like it.  Notice the cross (representing the 12th Doctor) behind the egg-like ball that opens all the Vaults in the galaxy, which means it opens the Doctor’s mind, making him remember who he was, which is what “The Return of Doctor Mysterio” showed.  The diamond represents, I believe, his name.  The Holy Grail.  This is a different way of showing what happened in “The Name of the Doctor” with River giving away the Doctor’s name, which led to his timeline being destroyed and then rewritten by Clara.  River has to speak his name to make him remember.  

 Identity Looming Large

If the diamond in THORS is a metaphor for the Doctor’s name, he gave it as payment to build the restaurant on Darillium.  He gave away his identity for love.  That is substantiated by River in the Library having to tell his name to the 10th Doctor, as proof of her knowing who he is in “Forest of the Dead.”

“The Return of Doctor Mysterio”

That’s significant because TRODM is about the Doctor’s identity.  Grant told Lucy: http://www.chakoteya.net/DoctorWho/36-0.html

GRANT: Discussion of my true identity would put the people closest to me at risk. That is not acceptable.

He says something similar in “The Pilot.”

 “The Pilot”

In “The Pilot,” the Doctor and Bill discuss the memory wipe and identity: http://www.chakoteya.net/DoctorWho/36-1.html

BILL: Yeah, because I think you're going to wipe my memory. I'm not stupid, you know. That's the trouble with you. You don't think anyone's ever seen a movie. I know what a mind-wipe looks like!

DOCTOR: I have no choice. I'm here for a reason. I am in disguise. I have promises to keep. No one can know about me.

In fact, the 12th Doctor’s entire arc is about his identity.  In TRODM, Grant promised not to use his powers but did so to help people.  Harmony Shoal found him and wanted to steal his body.

In “The Pilot,” the Doctor promised not to use his powers.  However, he is not only doing that, but also in bigger ways than it may appear.

 Beginning to Remember Clara

Bill is starting to make the Doctor think about Clara.  She mentions “kitchen” when she enters the TARDIS, and he has a strange look.  Also, the memory wipe he wanted to do makes him think.

BILL: Okay, let me remember just for a week. Just a week. Okay, well, just for tonight. Just one night. Come on, let me have some good dreams for once. Okay. Do what you've got to do. But imagine, just imagine how it would feel if someone did this to you.

Clara’s theme music plays. How much does he remember?

 The Long Character Journey

A lot more time than it appears passed from the beginning of the episode to the end.  We are spanning the 1st Doctor through the 12th.  A lot changed.

Bill’s Long Journey

Bill starts her journey in her striped top and ends it the same way, except this time she sports a guitar, a symbol of integration with the Doctor.  She is the unactualized potential of what he needs to become.

The Doctor is changing Bill just like he changes Rose.  Like he changes everyone who enters his TARDIS.  And that is one of the themes. 

She represents the emotional understanding that the Doctor needs to recognize his potential.  At the same time, he is helping her to recognize her own potential.

Anyway, Bill through her journey ends up representing many past companions.  Looking at the metaphors, we can see whom she represents:

·      Rose (alarm clock, chips, accent, crown, background and not using her full brilliance, Bill’s foster mother is similar to Rose’s mother)

·      Martha (ringtone, and Bill’s foster mother is similar to Martha’s mother)

·      Donna (background of being a temp and not using her full brilliance; her mother is a lot like Bill’s foster mother, especially with the Christmas gift)

·      River (big hair; suggested orphanages in River’s story, Danny Pink’s, and the Doctor’s)

·      Clara (kitchen; crown; follows Doctor, like in “The Snowmen”)

·      Ace – 7th Doctor’s companion (jacket with decals)

·      Susan (the Doctor looks at Susan’s photograph when talking about why he picked Bill out of the crowd)

·      Amy (someone looking up at Amy from the water in “Vampires in Venice”; ice cracking in the pond in “The Snowmen”; strange tears in “The Pandorica Opens,” “Vincent and the Doctor,” “The Big Bang“)

·      Integrated with the Doctor at the end (guitar necklace)

Sarah Jane, I imagine, is also part of the integrations, and probably most of his regular companions are.

Ultimately, Bill is a mirror of the Doctor.  In the photo below, she is wearing a red crown.  Red means she’s at the Red stage of the Great Work.  Also, it means that she, for one thing, represents the Doctor’s Mother of God consciousness, which means Divine love.  A union of the Divine brings Divine Oneness, merging of dualities into a single new whole.  With the gender change, which I’m still evaluating, she could also represent the male version.  For purposes of simplifying our discussion, I’ll refer to her representing the Mother of God consciousness.

 Bill & the 3 Faces of the Doctor

The 3 founders of Time Lord society are Rassilon, Omega, and the Other.  The Other is not actually a canon reference.  The Other first showed up in the novelization version of the 7th Doctor episode “Remembrance of the Daleks.” 

However, I’m going with it as foreshadowing the coming canon because it’s obvious to me that is the way DW is going.  The Other is a possessed version of the Doctor.  He may be a temporary character while in this parallel universe.  Once the Doctor dies in this universe, will the Doctor’s calling card be valid?  The card is part of the Cartmel Plan from Classic Who:

Bill later in “The Pilot” comes to represents the 3 faces of the Doctor. Her jacket has a question mark, backward 3-type symbol, and a lowercase “i,” representing the Doctor’s Eye. Holding hands with Bill is a symbolic integration with the Doctor before Heather and Bill integrate.

Revisiting the Doctor’s calling card, I’ve labeled more items, shown below.  Rassilon’s symbol is in the upper left.  However, does that mean Rassilon is always present as a face of the Doctor?  Or is Rassilon one of the possible personalities that might emerge?  In the same way, Omega is represented by the lowercase omega when it is pushed together. 

The image below is from “The Five Doctors.”  Rassilon’s insignia (white arrow) is next to the 5th Doctor.  Susan is in the white blouse on the left.

 The Doctor’s Journey

The Doctor has been living in Hell basically, paying for his sins.  With Bill’s help, along with all the companions Bill represents, the Doctor is ready to move forward to get out of the looped time that he is in.  He’s made a lot of promises that he is now breaking. How much will he have to pay for that?

He realizes he is not the beast he had assumed he was.  However, he still has some fears foreshadowed from “Night Terror” with young George that might need to be overcome.  

[fangirlshrewt97]

Conversations with Ghosts

Author(s): Fangirlshrewt97

Rating: 13+ for some cursing

Warnings: Major Character Death (by old age)

Summary: Many years after the show, Yuuri and Viktor have lived a long and happy life. Now alone after his husband has died, Yuuri visits his grave to talk to him.

[Victuuri Week 2017, Day 7: Endings, Yuuri: Memories/Moments, Viktor: Promises]

Link to A03: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9705845

The ground was covered in a fresh layer of snow, unpaved as it had only stopped snowing an hour ago. It reminded him of the first time Viktor came to Japan, that fateful day that changed the rest of his life. He trudged up the steep incline slowly, his knees protesting every step of the way. He had a wreath of blue roses in his hands, collected from his garden. The house was so quiet now, it felt haunted by ghosts of those long gone. Yuuri didn’t like being there more than he had to, though his body did not always agree.

By the time he reached the peak, he was panting, heaving himself the last few steps to the small bench there. He sat down heavily, all his bones settling in. The peak of his athletic body had long since passed, leaving behind the chubby tummy and arms and legs he had hated for so long, but now come to like. His hair had receded, leaving him with a full but thin head of hair, the same silver, Viktor’s had been for so long. His eyes were more deep set, lined with laughter lines that showed he had lived a happy life.

Managing to breathe properly again, Yuuri went to the small plot only a few meters from where had sat, leaning on the stone as he went down to his knees. He adjusted himself until he could comfortably sit on his heels, mindful to not stay there too long lest he be unable to get back up. He pushed his glasses up again before leaning forward to brush the snow off the gravestone. Viktor had insisted it be simple, nothing fancy, saying that he had been fancy enough in life.

Here lies

Viktor Nikiforov-Katsuki

Beloved Husband, Father, Grandfather, Brother and Friend

One of the best Ice Skaters the world has ever known.

December 25, 1989 - November 21, 2064

It had been a peaceful death, Viktor had passed away in his sleep, leaving Yuuri to wake up in cold arms for the first time in almost 50 years. Yuuri did not remember that first week too much, except for this hollow feeling that he knew nothing would ever fill. He had always thought that he would not be far behind Viktor when he died, and he was somewhat correct. It had been three months, and he insisted on making the climb to the top of this hill every day, no matter how much his children and grandchildren protested. He could feel his life slipping more each day, but he wasn’t scared. He had lived a full, happy life, the kind of perfect very few ever got to live. He had no regrets, and with his children all happy in their lives, there wasn’t much keeping him tied here.

Hana had tried to argue with her fathers to choose a graveyard closer to town, why did they want to be so far away. Viktor had laughed and said it wouldn’t matter much to him when he was dead. But this cemetery, when Yuuri stood up and walked a few feet below on the opposite side to where he came, you could see all of Hatsetsu. Viktor had said that this was the first town that felt like a home to him, so he wanted to be buried where he could watch over it.

“Good morning, Vitya. How are you doing? I am good. The house is so quiet now. Hana brought over Ayumi-chan and Ai-chan to visit. They are getting so big now, I can’t believe we are great-grandfathers sometimes. They stayed for dinner, so last night was nice. They had to leave today though, Hana needed to get them back to Tokyo, they are still too small to be too far away from their mother for too long.” Yuuri recounted to his husband, leaning forward slightly to shift the weight from his ankles to his knees. All those years as a top world athlete made no difference in his 70’s, his body giving him the same pains as all others his age.

Rearranging the wreath so it was more centered he continued. “Um what else? I made some katsudon yesterday. And I know, I know, the doctor said I had cholesterol and I should eat less fats and sweets. But my great-granddaughters were visiting ok, so hush. I am not going to subject our daughter to that terrible diet plan the doctor suggested when she is barely able to come anymore. Oh! Yurio called, he said that Elena had had her daughter yesterday. He sounded so happy, he sent me so many photos of the baby. It really is a beautiful baby Viktor, you would have loved her.”

Yuuri quietened, the only sound being the faint rustling of the few remaining leaves as a cool breeze whipped past him. Or more accurately though him, even with all his extra chub, it provided no insulation against that breeze. He hunched further into himself, trying to preserve that heat. He pulled out his phone, his knobbly fingers not as coordinated as they tried to tap on the holoscreen. There it was!

The photos showed a generic hospital room and bed, a young woman in the center holding a small pink bundle. To her left were Otabek and Yurio, the former’s hair a dignified gray, eyes just as serious as during his younger years but with a softness to him. Yurio’s hair was short, reaching barely past his ear, the silver making more like Viktor than he had as an up and coming ice skating prodigy. The height helped, with him towering over the two. But the years had been kind to all of them, phantoms of their youthful beauty not quite fading. He swiped to another photo, a close-up of the baby, now awake. She was smiling, her joy infectious even through the screen as her tiny fists were reaching out to whoever had taken the photo.

Through the years, Yurio had soften, not as quick to temper or react as before, and the two Yuris had finally become ‘official’ friends. Viktor had been so happy, commenting loudly to whoever would listen how his boys finally loved one another. Yurio had finally shut him up with a threat to shave what was left of his hair. Yuuri remembered the memory fondly, the twinkle in Viktor’s eyes as he retook his seat, Otabek’s small responding smile, and even Yurio’s unique begrudging and affectionate frown.

“Phichit called me yesterday night, saying that there was a documentary last night on ice skating, and how they mentioned all of us. I guess in the end we were all history makers right? You are still the most decorated ice skater, Yurio a close second. I have my three golds each from Worlds and the Grand Prix. Phichit with his gold and more importantly, his numerous ice shows over the years. He told me the most recent one is starting it’s tour in Thailand as usual but visiting 40 countries. He sounded so happy but also so jealous that he couldn’t travel with the tour. Can you imagine that? A 68 year old travelling in small cramped spaces to 40 different countries in the space of three months? Who else did he say? Oh Chris’s incredible Olympic program was played as well as talking about his following career as a judge. I talked to him too, did I tell you? My memory is starting to fade too Viktor. I searched for my glasses for two hours yesterday only to realized they had been around my neck the whole time.”

The wind that had previously been a breeze was stronger now, the chill starting to seep into Yuuri even with all the layers. The Japanese man was lost in memories of brighter days, of flashy costumes and many years left. He chuckled as he was reminded of the email he received from JJ. Although Viktor did not care for the Canadian, Yuuri empathized with him, the two forming a good friendship after that Grand Prix where he failed. JJ was actually the first from that group to retire. A too ambitious program ending in a fatal mistake during a jump that resulted in a broken kneecap and an early retirement. But he had found happiness in music, going on to produce music for many years, Isabella by his side.

He had sent all the skaters from that group a digital scrapbook(or the ones alive, even after all these years that car crash that took Georgi a dark memory. He had been so young, not even thirty, but lost in one of his daydreams, he had been hit by a drunk driver when he had gone to buy a ring for his girlfriend, so sure that he had found the love of his life. The doctors said he had died on impact, not even knowing what hit him. It brought Yuuri some small comfort, he had died thinking about his lover, happy. Not in pain). It was a collection from their various Instagrams and Fan photos mixed with videos and press photos.

Looking at those images, from Phichit’s bright smile during his short program on ‘We Shall Skate’, to Seung Gil’s ridiculous mambo shirt to even Georgi’s ripoff Elsa costume, Yuuri recalled The Year. And it was capitalized in his mind because it was the year that marked a turning point in his life. And there were the podium pictures, god Yurio had looked so miserable after making history as the youngest person to win the Grand Prix, as well as winning it during his first season in it. It changed to The Photo. The one with Viktor and Yuuri on the ice after his free program in China. Looking at it, Yuuri felt tears come to his eyes. He tried to wipe them off, but they kept coming.

“You know Viktor, you told me that year that I was so selfish when I told you I wanted to end this. But now who is the selfish one huh? I wake up every morning to an empty bed, Hana told me to get another poodle, but I said no. You know why? Because I didn’t want a poodle without you. I didn’t want a poodle who would be with me till I died than had to be a burden to someone in our family. So I wake up to an empty bed, to an empty house, to family who is a city away. Yuu-chan is gone, Mari Onee-chan is gone. Nishigori is not all there, he did not even recognize his grandson the other day. Our friends are in different countries. You told me I was selfish for trying to end our relationship before it really had a chance to go anywhere. Well what is your excuse. You stupid man, you made me fall in love with you, marry you, spend almost 50 years with you by my side. You made me make you the center of my universe and then wihtout a care you just left in the middle of the night. I want to hate you but I can’t because I love you too much.” The tears were coming stronger now, the grief that was always just below the surface these last few months boiling to the surface so easily. Yuuri’s cries were the only other sound in the empty cemetary, at six in the morning, the town was barely waking up.

“I miss you Vitya, I miss you every goddamn second. I still find myself making coffee for two when you aren’t there to drink it. When I read something funny or interesting, I turn to share it with you but you aren’t there. The house is filled with your ghost Vitya, I see you sitting in your rocking chair, squinting at the book because you had too much pride to wear your glasses.I see you in the backyard, tending to your precious roses, inviting me to come see them. I see you dancing in the living room with a baby Hana. I see you everywhere but you aren’t there. And it hurts Vitya. It hurts so much that sometimes I think I will die of heartbreak. And when I don’t I wonder why I haven’t. Hana and I celebrated Adoption Day two weeks ago, do you remember when we came to visit you? It is because it felt so fucking wrong without you there. I hate this, I hate waking up every morning without you around. I hate that it worries Hana so much and she is always checking up on me to make sure I don’t do anything stupid. Fuck!” Yuuri said as he thumped the ground, not even trying to control his tears anymore.

The skater cried for what felt like an eternity, the sun slowly rising higher in the sky, the bright day almost mocking the sadness in his heart. His phone went off, a message from Hana telling him that she was leaving the house to come pick him up. That was what finally prompted him to stop, his heart still aching as the perpetual sadness seeped back into his bones. He tried and failed at wiping away the evidence of his tears.

“I love you you stupid Russian. I love you more than anything in this world ok? You hear me? I am coming, I don’t know how much longer I can go on. So promise ok? You told me when we got married that you were going to spend the rest of your life, till death separated us together with me. Well I call bull, it’s my turn to be selfish. I want to spend eternity with you, so when I join you better be there, you hear. I am expecting you to be there when I come, waiting for you. And I know you are hearing me because you promised to never take your eyes off of me, and you never did. So what’s to say that death made that promise invalid?” The small shot of adrenaline in his system left, making him deflate. Pressing a kissing to the gravestone, he whispered a soft “See you soon,moya lyubov” before turning and heading down the hill, to where his daughter was waiting to pick him up.

moya lyubov: my love

If you liked this, please check out my other fics at: http://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlshrewt97/pseuds/Fangirlshrewt97

[graysonpuzzle]

New Beginnings

Note: So this is something I wrote a long time ago and just edited. There is violence, bad language, mention of death, and some possibly upsetting things. If you choose to read it I hope you enjoy it! I also would really love some feed back! Thanks!

The Puzzle

CHAPTER ONE

__________________________

July 28th, 2000

“YOU ARE NOT LEAVING THIS HOUSE YOUNG LADY!” my grandfather yells from the end of the hallway.

“THE HELL I’M STAYING HERE!” I yell, packing my duffel with clothes and some of my favorite items.

I zip up the bag and throw on my brown leather jacket. My grandfather is too controlling, living and hunting wise. I throw the bag over my shoulder and speed walk down the hall. I’m 17 and I’ve been trapped hunting with this old man. Never having a good night sleep, rarely being home, having no friends and god, only ever talking to my grandpa and his creepy friends.

“Grayson Amorita, I’ll be damned if I let you out of my sight, especially after promising your mother and father-”

“Don’t you dare play that card, old man.” By now I can feel my cheeks heating up and my heart pumping faster. “Whenever I do something you don’t like, you bring them into it!”

“Grayson, I’m trying to do what they would have wanted” he says

“Oh yeah, I’m sure they wanted me out risking my life everyday hunting creatures that hide under kids beds!” I argue.

“Grayson I-”

“I’m sick and tired of this life! I want to be normal! For christs sake I’ve never even been to public school! I’ve never had any friends and forbid I even look at a boy!” I shout.

I march straight past him to the door and I swing it open a little too hard.

“Bye grandpa” I say, leaving him speechless and I walk out the front door.

November 2006

“So this is the part where you kill me?” the shapeshifter I’ve been hunting for the past 4 days asks.

“I’m afraid so,” I say. I lift my gun, finger on the trigger when he starts rambling.

“Haven’t you ever felt like a freak? I know I’m a monster in your eyes, but is it so bad that I want to try and be normal?” he asks.

“Well, for starters, normal people don’t shift their appearance and then murder families, ya know, because that’s sick,” I retort.

“Come on, that’s not as bad as what other people do,” he says.

“Well, here’s the thing, you’re not a person,” I say and shoot him, hitting him directly in the heart.

If only my grandpa could see me now, hunting by myself, HA! And he thought I wouldn’t be able to survive on my own. Just because he’s the master vampire slayer he thinks he’s the only one who can handle these supernatural sons of bitches. I mean sure, telling other hunters that I’m Daniel Elkins’ granddaughter does have a few perks, like they almost automatically are willing to help me. But, there’s always the downside. People will expect me to be as great as him. I’m still working on getting out of that shadow.

I pack everything up into the trunk of my giant scrap metal car. I don’t even know what kind of car this is, all I know is I got it from my grandpa’s friend out of his junkyard who said I could have it for free. I drive myself back to the motel I’ve been staying in and immediately throw myself on the bed.

I wake up the next morning with all my clothes on from last night. The clock on the nightstand says 1:00pm, great. I jump into the motel shower and get dressed for the day. I get my computer out and look for any possible hunts near by. One in particular stands out: “Four Teens Found Dead.” I read the whole article and it screams supernatural- vampires to be specific- all the kids were missing most of their blood, enough to kill them slowly. Well, if there’s one thing I know how to hunt, its bloodsuckers. Maybe my grandpa has worn off on me, but I think it might just be in my genes because I’ve loved hunting them since I can remember. Maybe because they’re sneaky bastards who kill people despite being people themselves once. I get my stuff together and drive to the town where the article originated, only a 45 minute drive.

I already have a plan: pretend to be a relative of one of the kids, get into the morgue and see the bodies, go to the scene where they were found, find a trail, follow it and kill the bitches.

I go to the only hospital in town and go straight to the morgue. I stop one of the doctors and give him my excuse.

“Well, I’m her cousin but I won’t be able to make it to the funeral.” I say

“Alright, just follow me, miss,” the doctor says. He takes me to the morgue and pulls out ‘my cousin's’ body.

“Do you mind if I have a moment alone with her?” I ask, faking borderline tears.

“Of course.” and he’s gone. I immediately pull the cover down to reveal her neck and there it is: two puncture wounds. I check the other three bodies and all the signs point to vampires.

I put on the best sad face I can muster up and walk out of the morgue and out of the hospital. I get in my car and the radio is blasting Kelly Clarkson’s Because of You. Not that it’s really a favorite, but I mean how can I not know the words? I sit in my car in the parking lot singing along.

“MY HEART CAN’T POSSIBLY BREAK WHEN IT WASN’T EVEN WHOLE TO START WITH!” I sing at the top of my lungs, well until two handsome fellows knock on my window, both trying to hold back smiles. Shit. Why are two guys knocking on my car in the first place?

I roll my window down and immediately put on a serious face, “can I help you?” I ask as if nothing happened 20 seconds ago.

“Yeah, we were wondering if you know anything about those four teenagers that died last night,” the one with long hair asks.

“No, not more than the news provided” I lie.

“Oh, ok thanks anyways” He says and they both walk into the hospital. Why do they care what happened? Hunters…nah.

I start the engine and make my way to the road the teenagers were found on. When I get there, the cops are blocking it off. ‘Don’t worry, Gray, just get in and get out’ I mentally prepare myself. The roads around here are surrounded by woods, so I adjust my gun in my belt and take off into the woods, far enough so I won’t be spotted, but close enough to see what’s going on. I make my way through to get close enough to the car, all windows are shattered and there’s no other evidence of vampires-at least not from here. I come out of the brush and hide behind the car, away from the cops who are by the caution tape about 20 feet away. I get in the backseat of the car and search for anything, then I spot it, a tooth, or a fang, or whatever the right term for a vampire’s second set of teeth is. I open the car door and dash back into the woods as fast as I can.

So, I don’t think the vampires would’ve followed the road, trying to be sneaky and all, so I double back down the road and go down one that parallels the one the cops are on. I pull over to the shoulder of the road, by some metal railings that block a slope down to the woods. I slide down that slope to find any tracks. I search for almost 30 minutes and find shit. No really, I stepped in deer poop. I decide to go to my car. I get back to the slope and I have to dig the toes of my shoes into the dirt so I can make it back up. As I climb over the railing I notice another set of holes in the dirt similar to mine. So they did go this way. I search the other side and there’s nothing. Guess they did use a road, but why walk through the woods then drive a car after a meal? A getaway plan or something? I get back in my car and get out the map of the town that I got earlier today. If I keep going down this road, it leads to a giant and abandoned farm. I guess I’m going there.

As I start my car, a sleek, black car pulls to the shoulder behind me. Damn. That really is a nice car. Chevelle? I guess I’ll ask when these two guys…these two guys, the same guys who knocked on my window at the hospital. Damn it, maybe the vamps found out I was following them and decided to switch it around. It’s so hard to find attractive guys that don’t have anything severely wrong with them. I get out of my car to meet them outside, gun ready in my belt.

I get out of my car and meet them halfway, and lean on the back of my car, “are you two following me?” I ask.

“No, we were heading this way and saw your car and didn’t know if you were having trouble” the one with short hair says.

“Well as sweet and creepy it is that you ‘happened’ to see me and offer me help, my car is perfectly fine, and no offense but I wouldn’t take car help from two sketchy guys who appear to be stalking me,” I say and rest my hands on my hips, closer to my gun.

“You know what’s funny is that we think you’re the sketchy one here” the tall one argues.

“Alright fine, let’s agree that we’re all sketchy and call it a night, huh?” I say and turn back to my car, then I heard a gun click. I turn back around to them to see both holding guns at me. I immediately pull out my gun and hold it to them in response.

“I didn’t know vampires were into carrying guns, did you Sammy?” the short one asks.

“Wait, what?” I ask, completely confused.

“We went to the hospital, they said a girl with your exact description went into the morgue, and you lied about knowing anything,” the short one explains.

I lower my gun, realizing instantly, “Oh god, I’m such an idiot. I’m a hunter, and apparently so are you two,” I say, “I’m working on the case with the four teenagers.”

They lower their guns as well and put them away. “So what do you have so far?” the short one asks.

“There’s tracks over there, but no sign of them on the other side of the road, so I think they took the road- it leads to a farm that nobody owns,” I say.

“Well, we’re going to look around in case you missed anything,” The short one says.

“Ok, good luck with that, I’ll be killing them while you search” I say.

“What? No, we should do this together, you can’t take out a whole nest by yourself” the big one says.

“I’m going to take your doubt in me as a challenge” I say and walk.

“Are you crazy? You’re going to get yourself killed,” the short one argues.

“If you want me to stay with you, just say so,” I say folding my arms across my chest, looking at them with raised eyebrows and a little smirk.

“Let us look for a few minutes and we can go, together,” the tall one says.

“So, do either of you have names or will I have to call you ‘big one’ and ‘little one’?” I ask sarcastically.

“I’m Sam, and this is my brother, Dean” Sam says.

“Grayson,” I reply.

10 minutes later they come up with nothing.

“I told you,” I tease.

“Are you always this cocky?” Dean asks.

“No, only when people think I can’t do as well as them, and they end up being wrong” I say with a fake grin, referring to them having to ‘check’ if I got everything.

“Well aren’t you sweet,” Dean replies, a fake smile on his face.

“Alright, let’s go” Sam directs and we head towards the farm. There’s barely any light because the sun is setting behind all the trees.

When we get to the farm we all get out and I walk to them, “Maybe we should wait until tomorrow when we have daylight,” I suggest.

“Were already here, were armed, it can’t hurt to check,” Dean says.

“I don’t know Dean, she has a point, they have the advantage,” Sam adds.

“Oh, c’mon, nothing three hunters can’t handle,” Dean says and it’s the last thing I hear before my lights go out.

I wake up on the floor with my hands chained behind my back, in what looks like a basement. Those nasty bloodsuckers. I knew we should’ve waited. Sam and Dean are also chained, but both still out cold. Sam is closest to me so I kick his leg and he stirs a little.

“Sam! Sam wake up!” I whisper yell.

“What-what the”

“They got us while we were distracted,” I say, “But don’t worry, I have a plan.”

“What?”

“Well since were not chained to anything,” I start and feel for my gun-HA they didn’t take it- “I’m going to get up, walk up the stairs to the door and kill all of them, which will give you two some time to find our weapons and free anyone they might be keeping” I say, literally thinking of the plan as it came out of my mouth.

“Maybe Dean was right,” Sam says.

“About what?”

“You being crazy.”

“I’m not crazy, I’m ambitious,” I say and I get a small laugh out of him.

“Well, usually people’s ambitions don’t include risking your life when you don’t know what you’re up against”

“Well, how will I figure out what I’m up against if I don’t go up there and see?” I ask and Dean starts to wake up.

“Oh good, you’re up!” I say and proceed to tell him the plan I told Sam.

“Are you crazy?” He asks, again with the crazy.

“God, why do you both think I’m crazy? Wouldn’t you be willing to do the same thing?”

“Yeah, but going straight at them?” Dean asks.

“Go big or go home, right?” I say.

I stand up and lower my arms so I can step between them to get my hands to the front of my body. I walk up the basement stairs and knock on the door with a happy rhythm. The door opens and a rather small vampire is there giving me a puzzled expression.

“Hi there,” I say and yank him by the shirt, throwing him down the stairs. He fell all the way to the bottom. I shoot him with my gun and he just laughs.

“So stupid, guns dont hurt me!” He laughs.

“Yeah, but I heard dead man’s blood is poison to you, and that’s what I soaked my bullets in this morning.” I say and head back up the stairs.

The door is barely open, I peek through seeing no more vampires. Sam and Dean are coming up the stairs.

“I’ll shoot all of them, don’t move until I say so,” I order.

I walk through the door and I’m immediately tacked to the ground. I fall on my stomach but I manage to get on my back and kick the vampire back and shoot her right in the stomach. “Dead man’s blood,” I say, answering the question before it’s asked. I stand up and another one jumps on my back. I slam her into a wall, leaving a huge dent. I can’t shake her off, so I feel for her stomach and shoot her there. 3 down. No more come at me, so I go get Sam and Dean in the stairwell.

“Sam, go look for any people, Dean, go look for weapons, I can hold off anymore that come, If they follow you, lead them to me,” I direct and they go. It feels nice to have somebody trust me.

They both go the same way, leaving me in the hallway by myself. I look around, and I feel arms wrap around my body, squeezing the air out of me. Two more vampires come at me at once and I flail my legs in attempt to keep them away. I kick both of them in the stomach, sending them back a few feet. I shoot at both, one hit in the chest, the other in the lower stomach. The one holding me doesn’t like this so he throws me to the ground, a mistake on his part, because I shoot him in the chest immediately. 6 down, hopefully not many more to go. I walk around the house, and I get towed down by a big vampire, I look and it’s just Dean.

“Here.” He says and cuts my chains with my machete, then hands it to me.

“thanks” I say, “where’s Sam?”

“Upstairs, looking for anyone”

“What? I haven’t checked upstairs yet!” I say loudly and run up the stairs as fast as I can, with Dean following behind me.

“I think I can get used to hunting with you” I barely hear him say from behind me. Wait, was that a reference to my ass? Did he just compliment my ass in the middle of a hunt? Screw it, I have shit to do.

I run to the first door and kick it open, empty. “SAM!” I yell and kick open two more doors.

He’s kneeling over vampire victims, but he doesn’t know there’s two vampires sneaking behind him. I lunge instantly, cutting of the man’s head, then everyone notices me and I stab the girl in her stomach, surprising her. Using the seconds she took to react, I behead her.

“Thanks,” Sam says.

“No problem, I think that’s all of them,” I say.

“There was 9 of them, I counted,” A woman on the floor says.

“Shit,” I say under my breath.

“What?” Sam asks.

“I missed one,” I say and take off to find Dean.

I don’t have to run far, because he’s being pinned to the wall by a male vampire.

“Aw are you sad were going to kill your family?” I mock and he comes straight at me. He jumps to tackle me, but I duck, letting him fall behind me. I turn around and chop his neck while he’s getting up.

“Thanks,” Dean says.

“Don’t mention it” I say and run down the stairs to finish off the vamps I poisoned. Theres three in the living room, two in the hallway and one in the basement. Just have to kill them while they’re down and you can leave, Grayson.

I get to the living room, and just as I remembered, there’s 3 bodies on the ground. I decapitate every one of them and head to the hallway. The two there are just starting to wake up, but are still weak. One is crawling and I do a low swing of the arm to get her, the other one is laying on his back, as if waiting for me. The only one I’m a little worried about is the one in the basement, he was the first one to get poisoned. I open the door and walk down, he’s nowhere in sight. I hear Sam and Dean in the hallway, “Grayson!” Sam yells, “Are you down there?”

“Yeah, I can’t find the-” I get cut off by the vampire putting me in a chokehold.

“Grayson?” Dean asks, and I hear a set of footsteps coming down the stairs.

“I can still kill her, let us go, and I won’t” He tries to bargain.

“They’re all dead, Elektra over there got every single member of your family,” Dean says, obviously trying to get the vamp to go after him, like I did earlier.

“You killed them?” He growls in my ear, “You killed my family?”

“Let her go,” Sam says, taking a step towards us.

“Don’t move, or I’ll bite her,” He threatens, “I guess that if you killed my family, you can start making up for it by joining me.” He puts his mouth to my neck. I try to wiggle away but he moves my head closer to him. It’s like in Charlie’s Angels when Madison Lee was almost kissing Natalie while putting a gun to her head, in other words, disgusting.

Dean tries to move closer and the vampire freaks out. “PUT THE BLADES DOWN!” he yells, “AND SLIDE THEM OVER HERE” at first Sam and Dean refuse but then I get an idea. I nod, telling them to agree with him. They slide the machetes to our feet and step back.

I take the machete that’s in my hand, and stab him in the stomach and reach down for Sam and Dean’s, picking one up in each hand. The vamp comes at me and I swing the machetes towards each other, cutting his neck from both sides fatally.

“Damn.” Dean says. I turn around and give each of them their machetes back with a huff of breath from the struggle.

“Where are the people?” I ask.

“I told them to wait outside by the cars,” Sam says.

We got the people to the hospital and made sure they didn’t mention us. One thing I never liked about this job, you rarely get credit. It’s 1 am when we drive to the nearest motel. I get out of my car, and they get out of theirs at the same time.

“Nice car, by the way,” I say and head to the office to buy a room.

“Thanks, she’s my pride and joy,” Dean says”

I get to the desk and ask for a one bedded room. She hands me the key and walk out the door and hear Sam and Dean asking for the closest two bedded room next to mine.

I unlock my door and go straight to the shower. I can smell my own sweat. I get out and go to my bag on the bed to look for clothes when there’s a knock at my door. Perfect timing, what if I have to fight some monster naked? I open the door to see Sam and Dean waiting.

“Uh, can I help you?” I ask as both of them try to pretend I’m not in only a towel.

“We just thought you might want to celebrate with us,” Dean says, holding up a pack of beer.

“Well, I don’t feel like drinking, but I’ll be happy to watch you two” I say “Just give me 5 to get dressed and I’ll be right over.”  I close my door and get dressed. I knock on the door and Sam answers, his arm gesturing for me to come in.

“So do you two celebrate after every hunt?” I ask.

“No, just the good ones.” Sam says.

“I see.”

“So,” Dean says.

“So, what?” I ask.

“How’d you learn to hunt like that?” He asks.

“I learned from my grandpa,” I say.

“Whos your grandpa?” Sam asks.

“You might not have heard of him, Daniel Elkins, he lives in Colorado,” I say and their faces kind of fall. “What? did I say something?”

“We knew your grandpa” Dean says, “well we knew who he was, we’re sorry”

“Sorry for what? I’m confused,” I say. What the hell is up with them?

“When was the last time you heard anything from your grandpa?” Sam asks.

“I talked to him a few months ago on the phone,” I say.

They exchange a glance.

“We were in Manning a month ago, your grandpa was in the news, he was attacked in his house and was killed,” Sam says, “I’m so sorry”

I sit there in silence, thinking about it. What? there’s no way, he knew how to defend himself. This is just a sick joke. Just a sick joke.

“Grayson?” Dean asks.

“You think thats funny?”

“What?”

“Telling me he’s dead, you think thats funny, cause its not,” I say.

“Were not joking, he was killed by vampires,” Sam says.

How ironic, the thing he hunted best came to hunt him. “Excuse me, I need to go,” I say and walk out the door. It usually takes a while for things to sink in. When a hunt went wrong and one of my friends died, it took me a while to actually process it. How could he do that? He didn’t even call me. He didn’t call for help. I could’ve helped him.

I could’ve helped him. I could’ve been there. I could’ve kept him alive. I turn out the lights and fall asleep.

In my nightmare my grandpa keeps dying in front of me, a different way each time. Stabbed in the chest, shot in the head, each time screaming for my help, but I just sit there and watch. In some I’m even the one doing the killing. I try to stop myself, but I can’t move my body and all I can do is yell “I’M SORRY” millions of times. I scream myself awake and I feel the need to let off steam.

I throw all my stuff against the walls, break anything that I can. “I’M SORRY” I yell, throwing the lamp on the nightstand at the wall. I barely notice it, but I’m crying while screaming. I step on some of the glass from the lamp, and my foot bleeds out. I get on my knees and just cry to myself, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” There’s a knock on my door, but I ignore it, still repeating the same words over and over again. I lay my hands on the ground, which cuts them too, so now my hands are also bleeding. I just look at my hands for a while. “Im sorry, Im sorry for everything” My door is slammed open and the water in my eyes makes everything blurry, but I can make out the figures of two people. They pull me out of the glass and put me on the bed. ” I didn’t mean to do it!” I say, “It should’ve been me!”

“GRAYSON, SNAP OUT OF IT!” I recognize Dean yelling.

“He shouldn’t have died, it should’ve been me, I’m the one that left him alone!” I cry.

“It’s not your fault, things happen,” Sam says and wraps his arm around my shoulders.

“Get off me!” I yell, “I don’t need your help, I never needed help, I should’ve been helping him!”

“Just calm down!” Dean yells.

“HOW ABOUT HAVING YOUR ONLY FAMILY DIE AND SEE HOW YOU FEEL!!” I scream.

“I DID!” he screams back.

“BUT YOU’RE NOT THE ONE THAT KILLED HIM!”

“HEY!” Sam shouts, “both of you yelling won’t help anyone.”

“I could’ve saved him” I whisper, “I left him alone, he needed me and I left him”

The next morning I wake up in a bed, it’s not mine because the room has two beds in it. The last thing I remember from last night was yelling at Sam and Dean. I look at my hands and they’re wrapped up, I move the covers to look at my feet and they’re wrapped up too. They’re worse than I remember them being, there’s blood soaking through the wraps.

“You wouldn’t let us stitch you up last night, so we just wrapped them up for the night” Sam says, walking in from the bathroom.

“Sorry” I say.

“Please, don’t say that, you’ve said it enough since last night,” he replies.

I look down at my hands in my lap. I let myself get out of control, and hurt myself, I don’t even know what I did to the boys.

“Did I hurt either of you?” I ask.

“No,” Dean answers, walking through the room door with bags of food in his hands, “Thank god, because after seeing you kill that nest, I was glad you kept the machete in the car.”

“Yeah…"

“I got you a burger” he says and tosses is to me. My hands sting a little and catching it burns even more.

“Dean, last night I told you to have your only family die, and you said you did, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-” I start.

“Our dad. He almost a month after your grandpa died,” he says, his tone kind of irritated.

“I’m so sorry.”

“We should stitch you up now, the cuts are pretty bad,” Sam interrupts.

“Alright.”

We all sit in silence as Sam works on my hands. How the hell am I going to hunt if both my hands and feet have stitches. Sam finishes my hands and I ask for the supplies to stitch my feet but he refuses and stitches those up too.

“Thank you” I say, “well I guess I should get going”

“Do you have somewhere to stay?” Sam asks.

“No, but I want to go back to Manning, just see the house and everything” I answer.

“Want us to give you a ride there?” Dean asks.

“No, I’m fine” I say and get up, “where’s my stuff?”

“Over there” Dean says and points to the table across the room. I sling it over my shoulder and take it to the bathroom to get dressed.

Trying to get dressed was difficult, but I managed to do it in 10 minutes. I walked back into the room, “Well, bye guys” I say.

“Hey, what’s your number?” Sam asks.

“Why, think you’re going to need my help sometime?” I joke.

“Something like that” Dean replies, smirking. I give them my number and head for Manning.

[felltheheavens]

Going home.

I would never blame my mother for hiding the truth from me; I’m not sure I could have handled the nagging worry, the meditating on mortality, the sheer nostalgia, not when I was mid exam season anyway. Education first, there’s a principle my parents brought with them from India. So she bore the truth on her shoulders alone, and I was none the wiser until long after exams finished, when I moved back home for summer.

           I didn’t realise the truth when we left. During the flight, I was thinking about which movie to watch and how much shopping we’d have time for. When we touched down in Kolkata, the dark part of the night and the oppressive heat welcoming us back like estranged children, I was overwhelmed with warm embraces and fatigue. Even when we reached the flat, the open door beckoning us back home, I was in a bubble of ignorant bliss. I had always been a fan of plans, and I had one: fly out, see your grandad, nurse him back to health, and be back in the UK in time for your brother’s graduation.

           The façade cracked the next day.

When I woke, Dada was in his favourite armchair with my uncle sat beside him. His eyes were bright when he recognised me, brighter still when he began to ramble about how proud he was. He told us - for maybe the hundredth time - how he grew up a widow’s son, a village boy, a stereotype of abject poverty, and now he had grandchildren graduating from some of the best universities in the world. His eyes misted and I grasped his swollen, papery hand, comfortable in my knowledge that this was the greatest man I had ever known, and that I couldn’t imagine what he had gone through to provide the comfortable London upbringing I took for granted.          

           My grandfather was a proud man. When I was eleven, I was left at home with him and given strict instructions on giving him dinner and helping him to bed. I still remember walking downstairs to find him doing the washing up because he wanted to look after me more than I needed to look after him; that was the kind of proud my grandfather was. So it hurt when, at lunch, I watched the woman who cooked for him spoon mushy, overcooked rice into his lax mouth, remind him to swallow, pour water down afterwards. At least when you spoon feed a child you know they understand that they’re eating; with him, I wasn’t so sure.

           After lunch he dozed whilst we replayed one of his old favourite movies, one he learned to love during his years in London. He slept in a state that we couldn’t fully wake him from. When his eyes flickered open there was no recognition in them anymore, he was lost in some past world, where a young man emigrated with his family and discovered English films for the first time, perhaps. I tried to doze too, but every time my eyes closed I found myself tearing up, knowing that he would have hated this, hated how he was babied and incapable and worst of all, upsetting us, his family. I was a pendulum, swinging from hope to misery: he’ll get better to he’s never been worse.

           ‘It’s been a good day,’ said my mother, from the other side of the sofa.

           And the façade began to crack.

           If this was a good day, what would a bad day look like? How could it be a good day when he couldn’t walk by himself, couldn’t remember if he’d already showered, couldn’t even swallow his water without someone holding his mouth shut? He didn’t know we’d brought him crumpets and English mustard, he barely knew we’d brought ourselves. If this was a good day, my God, it could get so much worse.

~

‘Wake up, I think we might have to call an ambulance.’

           I shot up, wiping sleep from my eyes, my jetlag-induced nap suddenly seeming irresponsible.

           ‘What?’

           ‘It’s Dada, he can’t breathe, I think we have to call an ambulance,’ my brother repeated from the doorway. How had he gone from might to have to so quickly?

           ‘I’m coming, one second.’ I threw on a dress and half-ran the few steps to Dada’s room. He was sat doubled over, his breath ragged gasps, his body shaking, supported by my mother and brother and a second later, myself. If we’d let go he’d fall, and it terrified me that I didn’t know if he’d be able to get back up.

           ‘I don’t know what to do,’ Ma whispered. I stared at her blankly, the shock setting in. ‘Do we call an ambulance? Or should we…do we just make him comfortable?’

           I wasn’t sure when I’d started crying but there were teardrops on my cheeks now. I felt like a petulant toddler, all I wanted was to throw a tantrum. This was my Dada - he had to get better, he wasn’t allowed to be like this. He had to get better so that he could come to graduation and puja and my wedding, so that he could tell me his stories, over and over, for the rest of my life, or at least for a little while longer.

           ‘No,’ I said. ‘No, maybe I’m selfish, but I’m not ready yet. Call the ambulance Ma.’ As she pulled out her phone, I kissed my grandfather’s forehead and began to pray away the last of my hope.

~

           It was a good hospital, one of the best in India. The bureaucracy was awful, too many forms, not enough organisation, queues that lasted hours, but the doctors were excellent and that was what mattered. It was somewhere around the third or fourth cup of masala cha, with Dada two floors away in the ICU, surrounded by strangers, that I realised he would never be my grandfather again, that we’d flown thousands of miles not to help, but to say goodbye. I would have cried if I had any tears left.

           He hated hospitals, ever since he lost his wife in one, hated the tubes and the smell and the way you always seemed to be waiting. It was like I could feel his pain, his frustration, how he just wanted to go home. I wasn’t sure if home was the flat we’d carried him out of on a stretcher, or somewhere much further away, where old friends were waiting to see him again.

           I hated everything about the tube in his throat. I hated what it represented, how uncomfortable it must have made him, how little he tried to breathe without it. It seemed natural then, to get rid of it. No extreme measures is what Ma said, how the doctors phrased it, but we knew what it really meant when we signed the DNR. It may have been Ma’s signature, but my brother and I made that decision too. I considered it a silver lining that we could do that for her.

           That first night that he was breathing by himself, I didn’t leave his side. I was too scared, in spite of my hunger, my nicotine craving, my need for a shower and a proper bed. When I was finally coaxed to get food and air it was only after I had whispered in his good ear that I would understand if he went without me, and that it would be okay, I just wanted him to be at peace.

           Stubborn old git.

           He lasted days. He lasted so many days that I began to pray that God would take him soon. I sat in the rain and stared at the heavens and begged them to tell us what he was waiting for, why he was dragging out his suffering. We were ready, I cried, he could go now, he’d done all he needed to.

           Eventually, we decided to take him home. We hadn’t expected him to last more than a few hours, let alone most of a week. Maybe he was just waiting to go home. It had only been a few days since he’d been in the flat, but wheeling him back in on his hospital-prescribed bed, it felt like a lifetime ago. We settled him in the living room, and he turned his head and clasped his hands towards the portrait on the wall.

           ‘He’s praying!’ cried my uncle, ‘Look, he’s praying to his wife!’

           I gripped my mother’s hand and blinked away the tears that came from being less naïve than him, and from knowing he couldn’t pray if he wanted to, not anymore.

~

           ‘Guys, can you help? I – I don’t know if he’s breathing.’

For the second time that week I was slapped out of sleep by the horror of reality. I don’t know if he was alive when Ma asked, or when I put my hand against his mouth to feel his breath, but by 6.07 a.m. I realised he’d finally gone. I was so relieved I felt weightless, shock keeping the grief at bay while we made tea and called the doctors and arranged a slot at the crematorium. It was strange, even after the doctor signed the death certificate it didn’t feel real.

           One of his last wishes was that he didn’t want a hearse; he was a village lad, a traditional Indian man at heart, and he wanted to go the proper, old-fashioned way, up on shoulders. He looked beautiful, painted and dressed up and covered in flowers, finally peaceful. I’m not sure women are supposed to carry dead bodies, and I knew if I asked permission I would be told I was too weak, my sari too pretty to ruin, so I didn’t ask; I stepped into place between my brother and my cousin and felt his weight on my shoulder, and I smiled. I felt powerful as we walked, for once at peace with my tumultuous dual identity – today, I was Indian, I was the granddaughter of this incredible man, and the pride shone out of me.

           I saw him put into the fire. Saw his name flash up on the screen, N. N. Mukherjee. Saw his ashes afterwards, carried the clay pot into the Ganges. I walked into a flat he’d never sit in again, consoled people he’d never see again, placed the glasses he’d never use again on a shelf to gather dust. Maybe it was then, or on the plane ride home, or maybe it was six months later when I understood why Ma cried over Colman’s English mustard in the supermarket. Maybe it was when I wanted to call and tell him about university, or when I found the postcard that I never got around to sending him. Maybe it was all at once, maybe it was gradual, maybe it never stops. But my world has seemed a little darker after that, a little less purposeful, and a little more scary; so I look to the heavens, and I hope he’s watching, and I thank the gods for the twenty years I got with the greatest man I could ever know.

~

           Somewhere far away, a woman in her fifties kneads dough for roti, sat outside in the warm dusk. Her hair is long and dark, woven with grey, her sari pale and loose. She turns, as if hearing something alarming, rises and squints into the sunset, trying to discern something in the distance. Her face breaks into a smile it hasn’t known for a long time, and she calls out to the others. They come running, barefoot and dusty, little boys and old men leaning on sticks, women with tight plaits and youths with ink-stained fingers. They stand with her, and they watch, and they wait, and they know.

           He’s come home.

[thewritingambition]

Grandma is Coming to Visit

(originally posted on Reddit)

I was fortunate enough to have my paternal grandparents in my life well into adulthood. My grandma Yesenia was a lively woman, always energetic and active even in her seventies; she was from a generation of women who lived through immense struggle and always taught me to value the people and things I was lucky enough to have. She was also a loving woman who liked to bake and spent most of my childhood trying to fatten me up, with quite a lot of success, I might add.

She was only 19 years old when she married my grandpa Vítor, who was your typical grump. Not a mean-spirited man, mind you, he was affectionate and gentle, especially with his daughters and granddaughters, but retirement hadn't been kind to him. Forty-five years after working as a surgeon, he'd been pushed into retirement when his hands became less steady. Being completely uninterested in becoming a family doctor, he resigned himself to watching TV while indulging in his newfound hobby: complaining. He hated the shows on TV, the new generation with their fancy gadgets, the idiots who ran our government, and so on

Mostly, we all tuned him out. Even grandma, with her endless patience, would sometimes say, “Honestly, Vítor! With such disposition, it is no wonder the kids don't come around as much as they used to.” Though I'm pretty sure that was her passive-aggressive way of making us all feel guilty for not visiting more often.

They formed sort of an odd couple: my grandfather a towering, lanky man who was a little rough around the edges, always cursing under his breath, and my grandmother a petite, delicate lady who believed speaking above a whisper was unladylike. Despite all of their differences, they still managed to make their marriage work for 56 years, though we could all see that grandpa Vítor was becoming a little worse for wear every year. Grandma, on the other hand, continued to be beautiful and vivacious. There was an eight-year gap between them and we all knew it was very likely that grandma was going to have to spend the remainder of her years alone.

When grandpa was hospitalized with a serious case of pneumonia, I was well into my twenties and my father called me to say this was it. In all likelihood, grandpa Vítor might not survive the night and we better say our goodbyes.

I rushed to the hospital, tears in my eyes, ready to say goodbye to one of the people I loved the most in the world. However, once I approached the room, I heard a bit of a commotion inside and my uncle all but ran out the door, his face flushed.

“What happened?” I asked, though I could already imagine I had been too late and grandpa was now gone forever.

“I tried to tell your grandfather that, if he was only sticking around for us, that it was okay. He could let go, you know? We don't want him to be in pain.”

“Oh, god. Is he...?” I trailed off.

My uncle sighed. “He told me to fuck off with my emotional bullshit and go find him a fucking doctor.”

Turns out my grandpa was even more stubborn than we'd first thought, and that was saying something. Do you think he was going to give the doctors the satisfaction of saying that smoking two packs a day and a lifetime of eating red meat had taken a toll on his health? Like hell he would! He came out of that hospital two weeks later and went home practically flipping the doctors off.

The very next week, grandma passed away.

You know, when my grandpa got out of the hospital, I thought they were going to manage another decade or so together. The fact that my grandmother left immediately after was a particularly cruel twist of fate, facilitated by an unexpected heart attack. One moment, she'd been in her garden, tending to her flowers under the sun – the next, she was clutching her chest and shouting for the maid to come and help her.

The worst part is that, for a brief moment of panic, no one in my family knew what to do. We hadn't prepared for her to be the first one to go. She had always been so lively and healthy. My grandparents had had five children, all of whom had married and given them a total of thirteen grandchildren, ages seven to 31, and no one knew how to proceed. We had all expected to bury grandpa Vítor first, and then we'd tend to a heartbroken but otherwise strong widow who had long accepted that, being eight years younger than her husband, she might outlive her spouse. She had her children to live for, her roses, a loyal group with friends with whom she knitted every Friday afternoon.

Grandpa Vítor had one person in the world that he could tolerate, having outlived his closest and dearest friends. He wasn't just heartbroken, he was destroyed by his wife's death. There hadn't been a dried eye at the funeral, but our grief was mixed with a healthy dose of worry and sorrow as we watched grandpa Vítor sob over his wife's remains.

“My love, my life... oh god... oh my life...”

He spent the following week crying in his favorite armchair, the spot on the couch my grandmother had once occupied now empty. As for the rest of the family, we barely had any time to grief as we pondered about what to do with grandpa now. He couldn't stay by himself in that old big house with no one but Maria, their 55-year-old maid, to look after him, but moving him away seemed almost cruel at that point.

His five children took turns sleeping the guest bedroom, promising to keep him company until he got used to his situation, or at least until they felt it was safe to suggest he relocated to a home. No one dared to make the suggestion, though. How could we? His only companion, his entire emotional support, the woman he had loved faithfully for 56 years had ceased to exist in the blink of an eye. He was in so much pain.

As it always is with these things, though, the pain dulled over the next six months. He wasn't used to the loneliness, he'd still turn lachrymose whenever we brought up my grandmother, but he'd complain and grumble as he used to, louder and angrier than before. It was annoying at times, but it felt good to see him go back to his normal self.

It had been eight months since my grandmother had passed away when dad called me. He'd traveled from Veracruz, where we lived, to Mexico City that week for work. He was supposed to return on Friday to spend the weekend with his father, but his business trip had to be extended for another five days.

“I'm meeting with the contractor on Monday, Lídia, there's no point coming back for the weekend,” he told me. “Can you please keep your grandfather company while I'm away? Roberto already said he can take over on Monday.”

I'll be completely honest, I'm not the best at dealing with grief or other people's emotions. My reaction to seeing people crying is to leave the room and give them some space. My brothers are a lot better at handling emotional outbursts than I am. Besides, I had been extremely busy because I was a month away from moving to Toronto. My father knows this and trust me, I was not his first choice for the job.

Still, I felt guilty about leaving grandpa like this. Chances were we might not see each other again once I left Mexico. It would be good to sit with him one last time, just the two of us, make some memories to take with me to my new life in Canada.

I packed a small bag and headed to the home he'd shared with my grandmother for over half a decade. The maid let me in and I sat with grandpa in the TV room, where he spent most of his time nowadays. I noticed that tonight he had been almost smiling and not paying attention to the TV at all.

“You seem to be in a good mood, grandpa,” I said, trying to sound chipper. These anything you said might set him off on a rant or make him burst into tears.

“I am, beautiful,” he said in his tired voice, sounding somewhat dreamy as he spoke. “Tonight is going to be a good night.”

“Yeah? Is Maria cooking your favorite meal?”

“Maria can't cook for shit,” he said, harshly. He had never been one to measure words. “I should kick her out of the house.”

I eyed the open door to make sure Maria was nowhere near the room. Not that she hadn't probably heard any of this before. My grandpa and her often engaged in a battle of wits and that woman had the patience of a saint.

“Okay,” I said, cautiously. “Then why are you so happy?”

He too eyed the door as if he was afraid Maria would listen, then leaned closer to whisper to me with a big smile. “Your grandma is coming to visit me tonight.”

I blinked at him, confused. “I'm sorry, what did you say?”

“Grandma is coming to visit me.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again, unsure of what to say. Had my grandfather been developing dementia? Should I be worried? And if so, should I burst his bubble and make him miserable all over again by reminding him that his wife had passed away eight months ago?

“Grandpa,” I said, very gentle, “grandma Yesenia... she's not... around anymore.”

“Oh, I know,” he said, still in a good mood. “But she's coming to visit me anyway.” He winked. “She couldn't stay away from me for long.”

I was stunned for a very long time as he turned back to the TV to watch his telenovela like we'd been doing a moment before.

I excused myself and went to talk to Maria. I asked if grandpa had been saying any strange things lately.

Maria said, “He's complaining about my cooking again, but that's just how your grandpa is.”

“No, I meant, about grandma?”

“No, not really. Why?”

I shook my head and told her it was nothing. I'd have to tell my dad about this. He'd know what to do.

That night, we ate dinner together – I appreciated Maria's cooking a lot more than grandpa did – and I asked him if he'd like me to read to him before bed. He said I didn't have to. He was very tired. He didn't mention grandma again.

I stayed up another three hours, browsing the internet until I became too tired to stay up. I approached my grandpa's room to check in on him, see if he needed help getting up in the middle of the night. His legs were not what they used to be, but he was too proud of a man to walk with a cane or to ask for help.

I rapped my knuckles gently on the door, saying, “Grandpa? Do you need to use the bathroom?”

I listened for his answer, probably something along the lines of, “I'm not a fucking invalid, Lídia,” which was the usual response.

Then, I heard his voice, very quietly whispering, “Oh, my love, my life...”

I frowned and pushed the door open to look inside.

“Grandpa? Is everything-”

I started screaming. There was someone in there with him. The room was dark and I couldn't see them very well but I could tell they were tall and menacing. Instinctively, I reached for the switch and turned the lights on.

The sudden brightness blinded me for a moment and when I opened my eyes again, I saw her. It was only for a second, not nearly enough to register what was going on, but I thought... I thought I'd seen my grandmother. She was wearing the dress we had cremated her with and her face was livid but beautiful. Hell, she looked alive. For a moment, I even forgot that she was, in fact, dead and had been so for almost a year.

In the blink of an eye, however, she disappeared and I was left staring at the empty space she'd left behind, eyes wide open.

“No!” grandpa shouted, all but jumping out of bed. “No! No! No! No! What did you do? You stupid girl, what did you do?”

I was too shocked for words. I stood there, staring at the spot where my grandmother had just been, stammering excuses and questions that made no sense until Maria came running, wrapped in a shawl.

“Doctor Vítor, what is the matter?”

“She sent my wife away!” he shouted. “Stupid girl, what did you think you were doing?”

She tried to calm him down even though she couldn't really understand what was happening. Seeing that I was making him upset, she asked me to go back to my room, that she could handle things herself.

I waited outside the room. Thirty minutes later, Maria came out and told me he had managed to fall asleep again.

“I saw grandma,” I muttered without warning. I had to get it out of my chest.

Maria looked at me, taken aback. “You what?”

“I saw grandma Yesenia. She was there, standing over his bed but...”

That made no sense. The silhouette I'd seen before going for the lights, it had very clearly not been my grandmother. Grandma Yesenia was a small woman, that thing was tall and downright menacing.

Maria was still looking at me, suddenly looking pale.

She said, “Lídia, these are not things to joke about.”

I didn't correct. I couldn't even think.

Maria shuddered and crossed herself, then told me to go to bed. I did as I was told, but I couldn't sleep. As soon as the sun was up, I called my dad and relayed the story to him.

“And you're sure you saw your grandmother?” he asked me once I was done.

I thought about it. Having had time to mull it over, I wasn't so sure anymore.

“It was all so fast,” I admitted. “I know there was someone in the room and I thought I had seen her but... I don't know.”

“You know, sometimes our minds play tricks on us.”

“I know, dad.”

“It's possible that grandpa got into your head and you just filled in the gaps with your imagination.”

“I know.”

He paused for a moment.

“There is, of course, the possibility that it was your grandmother.”

I didn't say anything.

“I know how that sounds,” he said. “It wouldn't be the first ghost your grandfather has ever seen, though.”

That surprised me. Not that my grandfather had seen a ghost – or ghosts, as it turned out – but rather that they'd kept that from me. It may sound strange to hear this, but supernatural occurrences aren't as taboo in Latin America as in other places. Several of my friends from Mexico had had some run-in with the paranormal. Ghostly apparitions were not something I would immediately dismiss, though I was on the fence about the whole thing and would much rather find a reasonable explanation to why I saw my dead grandmother in the room with my grandfather.

“Grandpa doesn't like talking about it. You know how he is, he's a practical man. I suppose ghosts don't really fit his view of the world. But my mother told me of a few strange occurrences, mostly when he was young.”

“Such as...?”

“Apparently, he came home crying one day, saying that his father, who'd been dead for two years, had tried to lure him into the graveyard, promising him candy or something of the sort.”

I shivered. “Christ.”

“She implied it was something that happened quite often when he was a child. She even said dad once insisted that a little boy from that same graveyard had tried to follow him home. But he was just a kid and they lived a few blocks away from the graveyard, you know? That could've been just his imagination.”

“I suppose. And since then, there's nothing?”

Dad paused again. He took a sharp intake of breath, then let it all out as he said, “I know he didn't go into the morgue when he worked at the hospital.”

“No one likes the morgue dad, even if they work with dead people.”

“I know, but I asked him about that. He was a surgeon, you know? He's seen plenty of dead bodies. It made no sense to me that he'd be afraid of the morgue.”

“And what did he say?”

Again, dad took his time gathering courage to answer. He finally told me, “He said the dead would follow him home. I don't know, he was a little tipsy at that point,” he added, almost apologetic.

“Maybe this is not a bad thing, you know?” I said. “I mean, if that means he can speak to his wife again-”

“I don't really like to mess with this sort of thing, Lídia,” he interrupted. “Listen, regardless, I'm coming back next week and I'll talk to him. I'll take him to a doctor to make sure everything is alright. You know his health is not what it used to be.”

I didn't insist. I guess I didn't really want to hear about the subject any more than dad didn't want to tell me about it.

I met grandpa for breakfast. He had since calmed down but sulked through the rest of the day while ignoring me. He made no mentions of grandma or ghosts or anything really. When I offered to read to him, he gave me an ugly look and said nothing. In retrospect, maybe I should have said something, but I didn't.

That night, after supper, I went back to my bedroom to play some video game on my computer. I needed something to distract me from the thought of that shadow standing over my grandpa, or little ghostly boys crawling out of their graves to chase my grandpa home. Much like my dad, I don't like to think about the supernatural very much.

It was around 1 am and I had been playing for quite some time, overhearing my grandpa snoring from the other room and feeling my eyelids becoming heavier and heavier. I was so tired that when I tried to reach for the glass of water beside my computer, I accidentally unplugged the chord and the screen went black.

There, reflected on the dark screen on my computer, I could see my grandmother behind me, staring at me from the ajar door. Except that she didn't look much like my delicate, loving grandmother Yesenia. Having the chance to look at her, I could see that her face was definitely hers, down to the very last wrinkle, but still, it wasn't. She was angry like I had never seen her in life, the expression on her face almost feral.

I didn't move a muscle, hoping she hadn't realized I'd spotted her, but she did. Her face contorted into something ugly, almost demonic, and the door slammed shut.

I jumped to my feet, sending the laptop to the floor, and I lounged myself against the door. It was locked and it wouldn't budge.

From the other side of the corridor, I heard my grandpa's soft voice waking up from slumber, saying, “Oh, my darling! My dearest!”

“No!” I shouted, at the top of my lungs. “Grandpa, that is not her! Don't let her in!”

There was a moment of silence. Then, an agonizing shriek pierced my ears, loud and terrified like I had never heard my grandpa's voice before. It only lasted a second but it froze me to my bones.

I kept banging on the door until Maria came to rescue me.

She asked me how I had managed to lock the door from the outside but I didn't answer. I pushed past her and into my grandpa's bedroom. He was lying still under the covers, mouth wide open, eyes staring at the ceiling. Behind me, I heard Maria gasp and look away.

The story that ran through my family was actually a source of great comfort. More than one person had come to me to say at least it was a good thing that he had gone peacefully in his sleep, and his wife – or some version of it – had been there to guide him to heaven.

It was a beautiful lie and I didn't correct them. I had been the one to go into his bedroom and find his body and that was not the face of a man who'd passed over to the other side peacefully. The look on his face had been nothing but pure horror. My grandpa Vítor had died screaming and I knew that the thing I'd seen in my doorway hadn't been my grandmother. It was only a simulation of her, a sheepskin the creature had shed just before taking my grandfather away from us.

I thought back to what dad had told me that morning, to the stories that he now refused to repeat to me. I thought of the dead following him home and I wondered what had taken him from us. I don't have an answer for that and I'm not sure I really want an answer because, of all the possibilities that have crossed my mind, nothing scares me as much as thinking that, whatever that thing was, it took him to place where he won't be able to see his beloved wife ever again.