Because Faeries. They Do Shit.

Why, hello! I am that shrewd and knavish sprite called Robin Goodfellow. I am he that frights the maidens of the villagery, skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern, and bootless make the breathless housewife churn, and sometime make the drink to bear no barm, mislead night-wanders, laughing at their harm.

Those that Hobgoblin call me, and sweet Puck, I do their work, and they shall have good luck.

Tag puckishsprite so I can follow things!

Current M!A status: None.

Three Possible Timelines
Timeline 1:
Puck works for Oberon as messenger and sprite-of-all-work.
Timeline 2: Puck is exiled by Oberon for some misdemeanour and is confined to the mortal world for a period of 30 years or so.
Timeline 3: Chasing the Bard AU--Sive the Shining sacrificed herself to cut Faerie off from the mortal world in the midst of the battle with the Unmaker. Puck is stranded on the mortal side.

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The Doctor glanced at Robin. He was always quick to judge people but this was different. He was harder to read and it was like he is in the middle of everything.

The part where he said that he was mentioned in Shakespeare’s work won over, however. “She’s got a name, you know,” the Doctor said, tapping the door. “She’s called the TARDIS, and in a way, yeah, you can call her a world-hopping vessel.” He nodded and unlocked the door. “Be my guest!”

Being welcomed freely into one of the most powerful vessels in the universes was a heady feeling. Robin savoured it as he crossed the threshold. The feeling of power, old power, hung in the air. He could taste it, and he did, tongue darting out into the air of the machine. 

"She’s a beauty, this TARDIS of yours," he said, and his voice came out unintentionally soft; awed, even.