#i have written this a total of three separate times because i was just babbling about it to two different servers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

akimmito · 4 years

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They thought they won #1

"Ok. So, this is a fanfic that follows the directions posted by @chocolate1721. I liked it and wanted to write it, so here it is.

I divided it into two parts because it had 7546 words and I had only written about Gotham, I was still missing Paris. So, to allow a more pleasant reading I separated it.

This is a Timinette fanfic because I think there are very few of them and I want more content from these two.

So, let's get started.

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Taggued: @elmokingkong

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A trip to Gotham did not go as badly as Marinette thought it would. And they were talking about Gotham, a city so dangerous that you cannot set foot on the streets without suffering an attempted assault. She can only think that Ladybug's luck allowed them to pass the two weeks of the trip without any incident that attempted against the life of any of their companions (although the class screamed to be attacked with Lila spreading scandalous lies). So everything was fine ... Until his last night in the city.

A quiet night, if they could ignore the screams that were occasionally heard (Damn it, Bustier, why so close to the Crime Alley?). The class dined as if there was not a three-front war brewing between the students, it was a time when Lila's lies were hardly heard. It was a great night for Marinette... but then again, why so close to the Crime Alley?

As soon as they left the small restaurant they met two well-known Gotham villains, causing panic in almost all the members of the French class. Only two girls saw that there really is no danger, too many injuries to pose a threat. Harley and Ivy barely can see the students, they can't even stop.

Marinette, sweet Marinette, approaches them to see their wounds. She's not going to let someone bleed to death in front of her, not if she can help it.

Chloe follows her closely; each taking one of the women to identify the wounds and see how to get them to the hospital. However, Marinette believes that if she lets them bleed freely it won't do to take them anywhere; She began tearing her clothes to make makeshift bandages with the pieces for the most bleeding wounds ... That was until the class stopped being a bunch of screaming and inconsistency.

"Oh, I didn't want to believe it, but you're working with villains!" Lila's comment sparked the class hostility, Chloe just huffs mockingly.

"Damn it, Marinette. Don't you get tired of being such a bitch? "

"Joining Chloe, what did they expect? If they both work for Hawkmoth, obviously they would for the villains here." Someone, Marinette doesn't want to identify the voice, accuses them (again) of working with the Parisian villain, when clearly the man has put a target on her back to corrupt her and turn her into an Akuma. Anyway, idiots.

"You suck, Marinette!"

"What a disappointment, Marinette, you would know better that you must be a good example for class."

"Fools. " Chloe curses under her breath at her teacher's comment.

"I'm. No matter who the person is, I'm not going to see them die if I can help avoid it. ”Marinette frowns at the teacher. There was a time when she thought it was amazing, but those were childish thoughts of a thirteen year old girl who thought the world was divide in black and white. The world is more than that.

Everyone is so engrossed in the uproar that they are not alert enough, Marinette gets mad at herself for not being more careful. The Joker, FUCKING JOKER, is in front of them with a stuffed animal? Marinette isn't going to question it, as far as she knows, it could be a bomb. Even so…

The class doesn't wait a second when they run away, Joker just laughs at the reaction. Chloe stands in front of the two wounded women, waiting for any sign of her best friend, whether to flee or fight.

Marinette scans her surroundings without taking her attention from the madman in front of her. Her first option would be to run, but she's not going to leave Harley and Ivy helpless in the face of the brutal clown-themed killer (all fully justified childhood fears). A moment of silence when the class screams are lost in the streets, it almost seems like a dramatic moment from an action movie.

Joker is excited. The two girls stayed behind to protect their toy and the redhead. He might be impressed; not just anyone would stay to face it. No one is so crazy. His gaze falls on the dark-haired girl, she looks too calm and in ambient. He smiles when he sees her walking to face him and bends down to grab a lever too convenient in the middle of the sidewalk. She's a fun girl! Before she does, he lunges for her. It will be a fun game between the two.

Chloe watches Marinette fight the Joker with a crowbar, take and hit. She can tell he wants to knock him out, but, well, he's not doing it. Brutal would be a good word to describe the little Parisian drawing blood from the man as he laughs as if he had been given the top prize in the lottery (Chloe firmly believes he really feels that way). And it seems he really likes Marinette, a shiver running down her spine at the thought. Chloe bends quickly towards the two women trying to get up, the more time passes the more possibilities there are for that crazy man to become obsessed with her friend and she will not allow it (Kagami will dismember her with her katana if she allows it).

Harley and Ivy barely manage to stand up, but lean heavily on Chloe. It does not bother her, her training has allowed her to support a little extra weight and as long as she does not have to carry them, there's no problem.

"If you don't hit harder, you won't win," Joker laughs with each comment, wanting to force the girl to be more brutal, even though she is too calm and his comments don't seem to reach her.

"Who said something about winning?" It's the first time she've answered him, he smiles. Marinette bites her tongue to containing any other comment, if she opens her mouth she will get the maniac to follow her to Paris and a madman behind her is enough.

Somehow, while fighting, he has cornered the group in a corner. Marinette berates herself for worrying too much about useless things and now she must win, but give him that satisfaction. Her hair stands on end, a bad blow and her weapon goes in the opposite direction and away from her. Now she only has a clean fist. She can work with it, even though her brain screams at her to run. She swallows thick when he lunges at her again. His mind is a constant alarm of: there's no cure, there's no cure, there's no cure.

But at that moment dark figures leap from the surrounding buildings and confront him, Marinette backs down without letting her guard down until her mind focuses enough to recognize them. The city vigilants.

From there everything is a whirlwind of thoughts and Marinette does not realize when the Joker has been placated and has them close, to the surprise them, she launches herself towards one totally random and remains in the arms of Nightwing who only smiles kindly at the agitated girl about to cry with relief.

"I, help ... them, yes ... wounds, that." Marinette can't hold a coherent sentence toward Nightwing.

"What he meant is that they are injured and need immediate medical attention." Chloe stands firm and will never admit that her legs are shaking, or that being held by Red Hood was welcome help. First dead than looking vulnerable.

Marinette lets herself slip into Nightwing's arms as all the adrenaline leaves her. It's been a long time since she felt this way helpless towards some danger, but she was just Marinette and there was no chance of Ladybug showing up. Thank heaven for the arrival of the vigilants.

"Robin has already alerted the police, he should be here soon." Batman looks at both girls for a moment, but turns to watch the unconscious Joker.

"Everything is fine. " Nightwing whispers to the little girl in his arms, he feels her tremble against him and he is no longer sure if it is the fear or has another origin.

In a short time the police are there and the two Parisian girls have to give a statement (unfortunately the loss of blood left the two women out of action).

"How it happend?" Chloe takes the initiative, Marinette doesn't seem to be ready to leave Nightwing or say something more coherent than a barely audible babble, clearly struggling to stay together between anxiety and guilt, because yes, Marinette Dupain-Cheng can't help blame herself. Sometimes, Chloe thinks, want to shake her until she regains her senses (but that doesn't work, Luka's melodies, on the contrary. Oh, they're magical).

"To begin with, this is the fault of our teacher's incompetence to choose a restaurant so close to the Crime Alley. Second, I am very surprised that it did not happen before because our companions were struggling to get the attention of a madman. They said so many stupid things." The vigilants raise an eyebrow at the girl's words, if they didn't know better they could believe that the girls didn't suffer a close encounter with the Joker. "And third, Dupain-Cheng is too good to let someone bleed to death in front of her and I too good a friend to see her jump into danger alone. This leaves me with the experience of never going on a trip with that band of incompetents. "

"Can you relate the incident?" Commissioner Gordon is tired, with each passing day new characters appear in the city and he is never ready. The girl hiding in Nightwing's arms and her friend who seems ready to declare war to anyone.

"They appeared bleeding, our companions being stupid, the madman appears and they all flee leaving us behind. Ha, surely they would have thrown us towards him if they had not been so afraid" Chloe doesn't miss the opportunity to make a dismissive comment to her class, Marinette is out of combat to reprimand her for being too cruel with her sincerity. "Dupain-Cheng being so sweet as an acid candy defends us, is done with a lever and gets into a fight with the madman. Somehow we ended up in this horrible place and well, they came along and Dupain-Cheng falls apart in her standard nervous form. It will be fine, it just tends to over-think. The only thing recorded is the split lip, the rest is her realizing a thousand possible scenarios where everything went wrong. "

That said, the four women are rushed to the hospital (Nightwing accompanies them because the young woman in his arms refused to release him and also didn't have the heart to leave her alone when it was obvious that she needed comfort). As soon as they arrive they are checked and Nightwing leaves, giving the girls a brief look before leaving.

"We will stay here, we want to make sure they are okay." Chloe takes control of the situation, refusing to abandon the women. Anyway, after the act on the street, he doubts that they will be well received by the class. She is sure they are not worried and can almost hear their irritating voices speaking nonsense about it.

The doctors allow it stay there with the endorsement of the police, they fall asleep on a sofa in the room where Harley and Ivy are locate. Marinette calmed down throughout the trip to the hospital, muttering apologies to the caretaker who accompanied her for sticking like a koala to his person. And her rest is very calm, without nightmares or anything; Maybe it's the emotional exhaustion of the experience, but there are no dreams riddled with deaths or with the Joker, there is only a deep black who embraces her like a good friend.

The next morning they are awakened by the voices of Harley and Ivy talking to the doctor, Chloe also recognizes the voice of the officer who took the statement yesterday.

"They were very daring and their classmates abandoned them, even the adult with them. "

"You should do something, Jimmy!"

Gordon notices the looks of the two girls and approaches to talk to them, being much more rested can better appreciate the mettle of the two young girls. Especially the dark-haired one, last night was a bunch of inconsistencies and today she looks completely calm, looking towards Harley and Ivy looking for confirmation of their health.

"Good morning, ladies. "

"Good morning, Officer. " Marinette greets with a friendly smile, focusing her attention on the officer. She knows that they must return to their class and return to Paris.

"No one reported two girls missing, but you mentioned they are on a class trip. Can I know the name of the person in charge to call them?"

"Claine Bustier from Paris, France. College Françoise Dupont, we stayed at the Gotham Royal Hotel. Our room is the 155. "Marinette enters all her data, but she also decides that it is better that she has absolutely all of them. "My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, 17 years old. My parents are Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain, they have a bakery. Tom & Sabine Boulangerie."

"Chloe Burgeois, I reside at the Hotel Le Grand Paris. My father is the mayor, André Burgeois, and my mother is Audrey Burgeois, the Queen of Style. "

Gordon takes note of all the information they have given him, if he cannot contact her teacher he has two pairs of parents to call for their daughters. And for them to be giving that contingency, he can intuit that they know that perhaps they imagine that it will be the case.

He immediately retires and leaves them alone with the two women. He has a job to do.

Gordon spent the whole morning trying to locate the teacher, according to the hotel they left him early in the morning and they have no idea about anything. He doesn't want to alarm the girls' parents yet, so he will first talk to them to find out if they know where they could be, he sends them to bring to the police station to facilitate the whole process, and he also asks for food for the girls. It's almost lunch time.

"Welcome, sit down." The two girls obey with slightly worried expressions, they seem to be fearing the worst. "I have been unable to locate their teacher or class, according to the hotel, they left early in the morning. "

Marinette holds her breath, reality hit her in the face. Chloe's not much better. It was their last night in Gotham, today they had to take a flight to Paris... they didn't it because they are sure that they abandoned them. They start muttering in French at Gordon's confusion, they look alarmed.

"Sir, we are supposed to go back to Paris today. And... well, lately our teacher hasn't been taking roll. Also, she take what our comrades say as fact." Marinette panics again, but this time there are no saviors and they are trapped in another country. "I just hope they didn't go to Paris without us..."

"Don't be innocent, Maribug." Chloe addresses her with her friend's loving nickname, sees her on the verge of panic and hopes to remind her that they are in this together. "Of course they left without us, she didn't count for a visit to the museum. What will be different today? A word from Lie-la and everything goes under her will."

There was a small second of surprise that gave way to panic interspersed with fury in Gordon's features, he turns to pick up the phone and call the airport in a frenzy. He began to demand passengers on flights to Paris, but was repeatedly denied and his patience goes overboard.

"Ladies, would you mind waiting outside?" "Marinette and Chloe obey. They stay near the door because they don't know where to go and catch the officer's scream." THERE ARE TWO CHILDREN WHO COULD HAVE BEEN ABANDONED BY THEIR TEACHER IN THE CITY! NOW TELL ME IF CALINE BUSTIER BOEARDED THE FUNCKING PLANE WITH HER STUDENTS OR NOT! "

Boiling with anger and after a few more screams, Gordon has the information. But he's still so furious that he could commit murder on the spot. Worst of all, he also has video evidence of a student tearing up two airline tickets that, if you have to guess, are those of the girls they left behind. What do those people have in mind? He already feel the migraine coming.

He drops into his chair, counts to ten, and decides to call Bruce. Technically, being a Wayne Foundation sponsored trip, he's responsible for the two girls and with him in charge it will be easier to deal with the parents.

"Hey, Bruce. I have a situation, the Wayne Foundation sponsored a class trip for the Françoise Dupont School and the teacher in charge left two of his students abandoned in the country; I have video evidence of their negligence and I am sure that in every place they went to there is has least one camera that must have caught something. " He massages his forehead, it's not his jurisdiction, but when doing it in his territory he can form a case and send it to the Paris police for follow. "You should come and take care of them while we resolve to take them home, one of her classmates broke their tickets and I'm not even sure if their belongings are in good condition. "

"I understand, Jim. I'll take over, I'll be there soon. "

Gordon is relatively more relieved, but no less angry. He gets up to ask them to come back in and tell them what will happen, so they won't be surprised to see Bruce Wayne coming for them.

"Bruce will take care of you, make all the preparations for your return trip to Paris. And while you come, how normal is the situation with your teacher and your classmates?" He watches the silent interaction and the blonde is the one talking.

"We are the only two people in our class who do not believe Lie-la's lies. Maribug earned her hatred by trying to expose her stories for what they are: lies. And I, well, I was never going to let myself be bowed down by someone like her. "Marinette denies because of the choice of words.

"She considers us an obstacle in her reign. When she arrived, I never believed her because the stories were too unrealistic even for our standards in the class, considering that we all know a fair amount of celebrities and we all form a very diverse group with a promising future, I mean we have Max, he create an AI capable of feeling emotions. So when I didn't believe her and tried to make my friends see reason, she swore that she would take everything away from me ... And she did, it wouldn't have been so bad if it were just that, I realized who my true friends are and that I shouldn't trust anyone. The real problem is the way in which he influenced them all, I cann't longer recognize Alya, she is even worse than Chloe years ago. "Marinette sighs, remembering the last years is exhausting in many ways. "So they have marginalized us, they attack us only because Lila says that we did something to her even when we were not there and we have witnesses who can confirm our stories..."

"Seeing them is like seeing a surreal work with abstract tendencies, impossible to believe what you are seeing. The worst is Bustier, she's a facilitator. I hadn't seen the problem before, but now that I'm in Maribug's place too, well, we were clearly wrong about what kind of teacher she was. She believes all her lies and even congratulates her on them! She let use everyone to her holy whim and antagonize those who don't. ”Chloe gets up indignant and ready to continue ranting, not many adults stop to listen to them. "I'm tired of hearing the same speech from her must be the best person, Marinette. Be a good example! Someone should teach him didactics, she obviously doesn't know what she's doing. And now she leaves us in another country! Negligent, stupid, facilitator ..."

"Chloe, stop it. He understood your point. "Marinette is the voice of reason and tries to appease her friend's overflowing anger. It's true that having someone willing to listen is cathartic, but they should not take so many liberties.

"It's not fair, Maribug, not with you. Always ready to help others and they simply attack you when you decide to think about yourself and your future. They think you owe them something and it's totally the other way around because without you, that class wouldn't be half as good as it's ... because when you took the class presidency they all grew in their areas..."Chloe sits down again, her brow furrowed and still very angry. "They don't deserve you. "

"Miss Bustier often asks me to help her with different tasks, before it meant an additional workload… I became her disappointment when I told her that I would not do more work outside of my duties as class president, it dictated by the rules of the institution. She lectured me that I should not be selfish, that it's for the benefit of the class ... and well, I told him that if she gave me half her salary I would gladly continue doing her job. She punished me, but it was the truth. "Marinette looks at her hands, that conversation was before the trip to Gotham and her punishment would start as soon as they returned to Paris, a pity that left her abandoned.

Surprised is a word that falls short, Gordon doesn't understand how an adult woman can be so irrational. What kind of alternate dimension does that class live in? A person with at least two functioning neurons would not be so ridiculous; At least, he thinks, perhaps the lies are well crafted as unrealistic as they may have seemed, correct?

"All this arose from the lies of that girl, how are those lies? "He feels like asking was a bad idea and the looks of the two girls are confirmation.

"She has tinnitus because she saved Jagged Stone's kitten from being run over by an airplane." Marinette replies completely blank.

"She knows half of Hollywood and recently said that she knows the whole Wayne family and that Damian Wayne has been her friend since she was five years old. "Marinette snorts not holding her stoic expression, they only said some lies, but it is that the others border on the delirium that they do not they want to end up in Arkham just for repeating it. That last one, of course, was very close. "I wish someone would warn her that the boy lived with his mother until he was ten years old. "

From there, Chloe gives more details and there is no longer Marinette who can stop her. By the time Bruce arrives with two of his boys, Gordon is on a call with the French police for a case to be brought to the French Board of Education about the school and its unethical methods of education, citing Marinette's unfair expulsion which looks it's still on the school record.

Bruce looks at the two girls in Gordon's office, the blonde looks ready for war and the other girl is sitting quietly. Dick and Tim walk behind him; Richard couldn't resist seeing the girl who hung on him as a koala baby again and Tim is there for exactly the same as Bruce, taking charge because is also his responsibility.

"Good afternoon." Bruce greets, catching the attention of the two Parisian girls. They return the greeting and Gordon only makes a gesture of recognition, the police chief reviews the video he sent and the evidence he has of the case, he can hear him muttering indignantly and something about his daughter being part of all that circus.

"Hey!" Richard greets as well, being friendlier than his adoptive father. "I'm Richard, but you can call me Dick and this is Tim, my little brother. ”Tim gives him a contemplative look and just nods at them. His eyes fixed on everything but the two girls.

"I'm Marinette and she's Chloe, nice to meet you." Marinette smiles brightly. Dick can't believe he's the same girl of last night, but apparently she is.

Gordon ends the call at that time, the police said to initiate a police investigation and to involve the Board of Education.

"Well, ladies. When they get home they will ask for your formal statement and the presentation of the charges, although it seems that the prosecution will take care of that. ”He smiles at the girls, who agree with his words. Chloe celebrates, of course it will involve her father too. "Hi Bruce, thanks for coming."

"Of course. And since you mentioned the investigation, Tim collected all of the security camera files from the past two weeks. Every place they were in is in the file. " Tim hands the memory over to the commissioner, he still has a copy on the computer to review in detail himself.

"Thanks, I will review it and send the parts of interest to France."

After that, the five retreat to the Wayne Manor. The suitcases, or what is left of them, awaits they there. Any impression they might have on seeing the mansion falls short because of the disgust of seeing its things ruined.

"Well, Maribug, can I take this as evidence for my theory?" The hosts are still close enough to hear his words, even though they were about to leave them alone.

"Lila's being a meta or the Akuma's?" Marinette rummages in the secret compartments of her suitcase to make sure it was not raped, fortunately it's intact. It's safe to say that none of them thought that it would have a false base with a secret content, the place where the box of miracles rests. Ever since Hawkmoth decided to target her, she has been a little paranoid, or well, very paranoid. She has two secret compartments inside a secret compartment in her room, to store it, but being so far away she didn't feel calm and decided to carry it with her. Maybe it should include some riddle like firewall.

"Akuma, but Lie-la's also fits."

"I think it's the second one, only the class behaves this stupid so we can't blame Hawkmoth, half Paris continues to maintain it's logical reasoning. "Marinette shrugs and classifies the clothes that still serve and the clothes which inevitably must Discard.

Chloe just hums in agreement, it's a valid point. Long nights of conversation with Kagami and Luka (Marinette's small notes) to determine the motives of the class being so incoherent and violent without a truly logical reason led to those two theories.

"You have to call home, Chloe. You already heard Mr. Wayne. "

"Yeah yeah, I'm going to. At least I brought the least glamorous clothes for this trip. "

That's a ground call for Tim, who had overheard their conversation upon hearing something curious. He must prepare the trip to Paris with Wayne's private plane, Bruce wants to take charge of the situation and speak in person with the parents of both girls. Every hour he knows they won't be leaving until the next day, giving them time to spend time with their unexpected guests.

The call is quick and enough for Marinette to fear that her mother will become Akuma. A message from her father confirms that her fears were unfounded, that her mother's anger is cold and will not fall into Hawkmoth's hands.

When the two girls relax and take a breather, knowing that they will sleep in that mansion, they don't even have time to think twice when Jason drags them into a room full of weapons, Marinette can barely contain her surprise and Chloe glows with excitement.

"Ready to learn how to shoot a gun?" Chloe jumps with badly contained enthusiasm, Marinette is not so enthusiastic about it, but learning to remove a weapon considers that it is something useful for what she asks to start there. "Okay, pixie-pop, I'll teach you how to take apart and lock a weapon."

They spend an entire two hours immersed in the world of weapons, Chloe going through each type as Marinette confronts Jason to disarm him, showing off her quick learning, though not good enough to beat her temporary master.

When Marinette leaves, claiming she doesn't want to shoot, she bumps into Damian and asks him for directions to get out of there.

"Because I should?"

"If I get lost it will be your fault." He snorts, but accepts. He doesn't want a stranger sniffing around the mansion and sticking his nose where it shouldn't. They walk in silence when she notices he is carrying a sword. "Is it a katana?"

"What else would it be?"

"An umbrella." She laughs at the boy's annoyed expression when he turns to look at her as if he thinks she's crazy. "There is a design inspired by katanas, a friend decided it was a good idea to scare us with it..."

"Pff. And why did you believe it?"

"She really tried to cut off someone's hand one day, it was with a saber, but ... we really believed her capable of attacking someone with a katana" Damian only raises an eyebrow with a curiosity that he refuses to admit even to himself. "And she's deadly with a sword, we vowed never to face her again with real swords unless we somehow became Superman. "

"Can you fight with swords?" He was being tolerant by allowing her to speak at first, but the latter did catch his attention. It may not be a good one, but having someone who won't cut its finger on themselves in a workout can be helpful, and if he can get her better, a decent opponent to practice with.

"I avoided she cutting my arm with a katana, does that count?"

It changes course and they head to another room, similar to the weapons room, but this time it is full of swords and knives. She respects people's hobbies, she does, but the amount is over the top and she has a slight suspicion that there is more somewhere in the big mansion. Will there be a pump room? She wouldn't be surprised if one of the other two brothers suddenly came out claiming fanaticism about the explosives.

"I want to see how bad you are."

Ouch, Marinette thinks. She has been ruled out immediately, but will not decline now that she's surrounded by so many weapons. She does feel more excited about a sword than a gun, they can't blame her for preferring close combat.

"We will fight with katana, take whatever you want. They are all polished and sharp. ”She feels something dark when she mentions the sharp, as well as pride in the perfect maintenance of her weapons. She smiles confidently, the boy reminds her of Kagami (albeit much more somber and clearly hostile).

Having chosen, the two are placed in position. And he begins to criticize hard and coldly.

"Your posture is very loose, you will only get him to cut your throat with the first blow. Your friend is an idiot, she must has corrected you since he saw you. ”Mariette nods. "Imitate me. ”She obeys, reflecting her posture. "But be firmer, this is not a dance, it's a fight and if you don't stand up fine. Well, you will dead. "

After several minutes in the same position, they begin. A couple of movements and he correct her again.

"The movement must be strong and fluid, you will cause a fracture on your own if you allow the elbow to continue flexing like this. You must be precise in the movements, you cann't start to experiment if you don't have dominated the base. Again. "

With each criticism and correction the girl makes, she becomes more excited. Damian is relentless with his comments, openly insulting her for her mistakes, but gives the correct and fair corrections for the problem she presents.

"You are agile and flexible, use it to your advantage. Put aside unnecessary movements, sword fighting is offensive and deadly." Marinette notices that she is having fun, if the smile says anything (however mischievous it is when she mocks her mistakes). At least until he stumbles over his own feet and falls flat on his face in front of Damian. "You're an idiot?! You almost stabbed yourself, you can't fall like this! Get up and regain the dignity you have left. Again and don't fall or I’ll stab yourself. "

Marinette has a good time, she doesn't even notice the time she spends training with Damian. Alfred interrupts them by announcing that dinner has been served since fifteen minutes.

"Thanks Alfred." She smiles kindly.

Damian reluctantly guards the sword, his brothers always choose other weapons when training. It was satisfying to have someone willing to fight him in his area, especially for his quick learning, he only had to correct twice about posture and movement; he also noticed that she was imitating his movements to correct himself as they fought. Less useless than his brothers, he will give she that.

When they enter, everyone is eating or so it seems. Tim looks at his plate as if he is going to speak to him at any moment, Dick talks more than he eats (with Stephanie who came interested in the two girls who could be victims of Bruce's adoption), Jason has not even touched the plate and in change is arguing over the theory of how to disassemble a grenade launcher with Chloe. Bruce is the only one who eats in silence, at least until he sees his youngest son arrive with Marinette.

"Excuse me." Marinette sits in the empty seat next to Tim, who barely registers the movement. She worries a little, she seems to be in her bad weeks (say Hawkmoth and her Akuma at three in the morning).

Dinner passes unceremoniously, past Damian demanding they shut up, almost stabbing Marinette's hand with his fork. And contrary to what anyone might think, she just laughs, the whole situation seemed so refreshing, so many people at a table and the familiarity with which they were received. She feels comfortable, even with Damian's passive-aggressive attitude.

Somehow, an hour later, they are dragged back into another room. This time both Chloe and Marinette want to scream, and Mari feels she can be relieved because it didn't result in bombs or anything more dangerous than the other two. He gets them comfortable clothes so they can get on, knowing that they have been sweating and going in normal clothes.

Chloe does not hesitate to climb on the trapeze after warming up, but Marinette sits on the parallel bars, not that she is not willing to do the same as Chloe, but she flies often enough as Ladybug to look for something calmer, although she should take advantage and she would like to have a private gym like that, because there are also weights and a punching bag.

Dick is in cloud nine watching how the two girls look like fish in the water, he imagined that it would be so. Especially when she saw Marinette training with Damian and the movements she made, she is clearly a gymnast. And being there, well, that the two of them are so enthusiastic only makes it better. Unlike his brothers, he just wants them to have fun.

At some point in the time they take turns between the bars and the trapeze, Dick and Chloe end up competing. While Marinette is happy on the uneven bars until Damian re-monopolizes her and they move to the weapons room; leaving the other two doing jumps and twists in the air (Dick wins, of course).

Of course, Marinette enjoys the workout and is glad she didn't end up hurt in any way. It would be funny to explain to her parents that they ended up fighting with swords with a boy four years younger and that he did not have the mercy to avoid hurting her.

"Better than a few hours ago, you're not that horrible anymore. "

"Decent, right?"

"That is too favorable for you, you still trip over the air and almost take your eye out." Damian frowns in disappointment at the incompetence of maintaining a decent balance when he has both feet on the ground. When he saw her on the uneven bars, it was almost believed that the jumps that ended in disaster were fake, but no, she really stumbled into nothingness itself.

"Uh, sorry. I will do it better.

"You better, I won't admit any more stupid mistakes."

Damian would have preferred to go on patrol, but he won't complain about the training either. He had fun at the girl's expense and, above all, he knows that if he sees her again and she keeps practicing (he will make sure of that) he will be a better rival than today. She can even introduce that friend of her to measure levels, he's better of course but it never hurts to re-confirm.

At ten at night they go to bed, Alfred shows the room to the two girls and lets them settle down. Marinette can't sleep, after four hours of tossing and turning, she resigns herself and leaves, looking at Tikki on her pillow sleeping comfortably, she can't help envying her good rest. Pick up your phone and it's 2:15.

She curses her insomnia and wanders around the mansion, somehow miraculously ends up in the kitchen. It is a dim light that directs her there, since everything else is dark, she didn't even feel when went downstairs.

In the kitchen, Tim is leaning against the table with his computer on and a steaming coffee. Suddenly he gets up and turns to her with a surprised (and very confused) expression, but more surprised Marinette is when he does that.

"Oh Im sorry…"

"No, no ... Uh, can't you sleep?"

"Usually not. What are you doing?" Marinette knows that she is taking, perhaps, too much liberties when curious about what Tim is doing, but she is not sleepy and there is nothing else to do.

"Work, Wayne Industries is developing a new model of heavy machinery for moving cargo containers, much more resistant to be located on the coasts for the rainy seasons… I am reviewing all the designs, suggested materials and profitability of each project to present to the board in three weeks. There are seven different models, and none are tailored to it needs. " Tim shows the blueprint of the last model he has reviewed, flipped it over several times, and revised the materials, but they are not entirely satisfactory for what he is seeking to present.

"It looks complicated, how do you know if it adapts to it needs or not?" Marinette sits next to him, interested in the project. She know he is the CEO of Wayne Enterprise and every division in the company, but seeing the work he does is something different. "If you have to go through those kinds of projects and take care of other tasks, i'm not surprised that you're so sleep deprived"

"Well, the demand is analyzed first." Open another file of the works of the sector where the new project is directed. "Here, the work of the machinery must meet the standards in relation to the pace of work and the climate, considering that it wants to deliver a specific model for working on coasts. This is only to increase efficiency and allow a slightly longer time frame between maintenances. Metals corrode with greater speed and, sometimes, the weather is so bad that it avoids correct maintenance; storms in mid-spring flood the ports. fairly frequently and parts need to be replaced more frequently This new model should allow greater resistance to these conditions. "

"Interesting, and are you always watching projects?"

"Not all projects, Wayne Biotechnology projects do not review this way, it is not my area. It's usually the manager of the division who presents new projects to the board. However, I still have to review other aspects of all the divisions of the company and that includes them all…"

"It's still a lot of work, is it that heavy or do you overload yourself?" Marinette inquires with playful curiosity, Tim shifts nervously.

"A little of both?"

"Oh.So, you need a better coffee. ”She takes the liberty of trying the one she is drinking. "It's still very light. I will share with you my winning recipe, it has kept me up for an entire week with one hour of daily sleep. "

Marinette gets up and moves in the kitchen as if she were the owner of the place, looking for what she needs. Seeing the coffee, she is surprised.

"Black Insomnia?"

"I can only have one cup a week, Alfred thinks it's going to kill me if I drink it every day. I have made an agreement, he doesn't tell me anything about not sleeping and I comply with taking it once a week."

"It's totally valid. " Marinette laughs and puts the coffee back in its place. "Whiskey. It will come handy. "

"What?" Tim watches the girl open the bottle to smell her, it's one of the ones Alfred confiscated from Jason a week ago. "Why Whiskey?"

"Other flavor, vodka is better, but I can work with this. Do you have mint?"

Tim remains dubious as he watches her work with the most random ingredients he could think of for a coffee, also yogurt? He won't question it, but was France so strange?

A few minutes later Marinette hands him a cup.

"It has less caffeine than a regular cup, but the energy it provides is much greater. If you drink one cup per hour, with this you only need one to run at least four. It's magical, come on, don't see it like that. ”She pouts and he decides to take it.

"It is safe? I don't think Alfred is happy that you murder me with coffee."

"I think Damian would have a party."

"Oh, the demon's ally. Since I didn't see it coming, I gave you my trust and that's how you pay me. "

They both laugh, Tim finally trying the coffee. He will give she points for the taste, he don't even feel that it has alcohol and ultimately he feel more alive than a moment ago. He can continue working.

They both stay in the kitchen, Tim works until five in the morning. Marinette fell asleep at one point in that time and he settled her in such a way that when he falls asleep she is his pillow. The sad thing is that not even putting together the hours of sleep of both can they add up to three.

Alfred enters deciding to wake up the teenagers, the plane will leave in two hours and they must prepare. Tim looks for his cup of coffee and has finished it, he doesn't want to move.

"Now, Master Tim. Be a responsible boy and they'll go change. ”Marinette is barely aware of her surroundings as she is dragged into the rooms by Tim, but neither is he does.

Neither of them fully records what happens, except getting to a bed and going back to sleep. Totally out of combat. When they are close to leaving, Bruce doesn't even know what think on seeing the two young sleeping like corpses, dressed exactly the same as the day before.

"Chloe, help Marinette get ready. Dick, help Tim. We're leaving in ten minutes. ”The two mentioned only look at each other in panic before running to wake up the dead.

Marinette barely registers, feeling terribly drained now that all the effort from the day before is building up. He could sleep a thousand years if he were allowed to. They get ready in record time and move to the airport, for the only thing Marinette is aware of is to her luggage, being that she hugs it and when she asks, she murmurs: I love this suitcase, but don't tell my other suitcases, they get angry. No one says anything except for Jason's small laugh and a snort from a more sleepy than awake Tim who responds: who will tell them? No one knows them. Jason breaks down after that and laughs out loud.

Richard regrets not having recorded the most hilarious conversation he has ever witnessed, he has heard his little brother say inconsistent things in his sleep deprivation, but seeing an exchange is something very different. And it's so funy.

And they spend hours on the plane, Marinette basically asleep on Tim while he seems to melt in the seat. Richard took lots of photos every time they moved. By the time they get to Paris, they are both more awake.

Chloe smiles at her city, excited for what awaits all the bastards who left them behind. Maybe it is justice for everyone else, but for her it's revenge and she wants to see them suffer for hurting them both.

------------

Thanks for reading!

#timari #Timinette #tim x marinette #marinette x tim #maribat #bustier salt #ml x dc

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writingithink · 4 years

Note

You asked for it!!! Prompt number 5 and Tentoo/Rose 😂💖

Alright so this somehow got out of hand, just a little.

[Send me a prompt and a Doctor (9-11) x Rose pairing!]

Aerial View Necessary Rated: T Pairing: Tentoo x Rose Wordcount: 3,360

Read it on AO3

It had taken quite a few months for them to get here, months in which she thought she was going to go absolutely insane, but they finally did it. She and the Doctor had a house of their own. With doors, and carpets, and all of the other domestic things a house on Earth came with.

Oddly enough, it was the Doctor who had first suggested it.

They had only been staying at the mansion for five days - not even a full week. Just five days since saving the multiverse, since Bad Wolf Bay (again), since he had been essentially created. Things had been … awkward. After so long apart they had to get used to each other again, but that was compounded by all of the changes that came with his metacrisis - some of which delighted him, while others had him throwing fits.

So when he had stormed into her room on their fifth day together on parallel Earth, Rose had assumed that he was having another tantrum, like the one the evening before when he found out that he could no longer eat an entire tin of biscuits without getting a stomach ache (she had been equal parts annoyed with and sad for him). She was barely awake, had just managed to pull herself up onto her elbows when he collapsed on the bed next to her.

“Let’s get out of here. Our own place. What do you say?” He looked quite manic for 8 in the morning.

“What?” she had asked, still groggy but quickly waking. “Where’d this come from?”

“I, Rose Tyler, absolutely refuse to live with your mother.”

For all of the new little quirks and biological changes, he really wasn’t all that different. Once she’d gotten ready for the day, cuppa in hand, Rose had taken a seat at the kitchen island, laptop already out from the day before, and started looking up flats online. It wasn’t long before the Doctor was there, looking over her shoulder and somehow managing to get jam in her hair.

“No, no, no,” he started, “not a flat. Too small. Too many other humans right on top of us. Or below us. Or to the side. You know what, never mind, forget that bit. We need a house.”

“Really? You? A house?”

Years may have passed, but his horror at the prospect of a mortgage while orbiting a black hole wasn’t the kind of thing she was ever going to forget.

“Yup. Not like this one, but a good size. The TARDIS will need her own room. Oh! And I think I would fancy a garden. Not just a small one, but a proper yard. We could have a pool! Do those come with houses, or do you have to get them separately?” the Doctor babbled, leaning over her in order to begin making his own searches, fingers typing on the keyboard at a ridiculous speed that the machine was having difficulty keeping up with.

Then her mum came in.

“What are you two up to now?” she’d asked.

Before Rose could think of a way to ease her mother into this new development, the Doctor had taken the matter completely out of her hands.

“Getting a house. What do they mean ‘request a viewing’? Aren’t I viewing it now? They’ve got 23 pictures.”

It had all gone downhill from there. Her mum had had plenty of opinions, and went from enthusiastically trying to do the house hunting for them to harsh disapproval of the whole thing seemingly from moment to moment throughout the entire process. And the Doctor’s combination of unending enthusiasm and complete ignorance made it all … well, it was never boring, that’s for sure.

Also, he turned out to be very picky, which shouldn’t have surprised her.

Their realtor hated them.

But now it was over, and here they were in their own house. Their own home.

It was two stories, with four bedrooms (“One for us, one for the TARDIS, one to use for, you know … whatever. Office? Workshop? And then an extra, just in case, you know … because what if we need it?”) and three bathrooms. The sitting room was cozy, and the kitchen was spacious, and there wasn’t a separate dining area (“What do we need a dining room for? When have we ever had people over for dinner?”). They had a finished basement (which the Doctor had more ideas for than it had space, but Rose figured he would have to figure that out for himself) and an attached garage, as well as a shed out back (“It will be perfect, you know, for projects that are too big for the house … well, not too big, the shed is quite small, but you know, too, er, combustible.”). It also had a pool, but not a hot tub - she had had to convince him that they could easily buy one when he almost told the realtor no (again). And their garden was huge.

Rose didn’t know what to even do with it, she’d never had a garden before. Well, the last few years at the mansion she did technically have one - but that was different. It was her parents garden (well, grounds would be more accurate) and it was tended to by gardeners. In the excitement of moving in, she let the issue of lawncare slip her mind.

Neither her nor the Doctor had many things - despite years living in a parallel world, Rose had been so focused on her work with the Dimension Canon, and so sure she would be returning to her proper universe that she had never really put down roots. So they had to buy absolutely everything for the house, which was daunting. Thankfully one of the new quirks he had gotten from Donna was a love for shopping. Unfortunately, he did not get any common sense about what a house needed, and it became clear that this was an activity he was never allowed to do alone (in the end, Rose had had to send back 4 (out of 6) couches, 17 (out of 21) toasters, 3 (out of 5) mixers, various other kitchen gadgets (total number unknown, but now they at least had enough cupboard space for actual food), and a host of giant inflatable Christmas decorations that ‘had been on sale’).

It wasn’t until they had been at their new house for about two months that the issue of their garden came up again. And only because they had received a written warning in the post about their grass being too long.

“Who are they to decide? Isn’t it our garden?” the Doctor complained. “I like our grass! It’s very … grassy. And green! Well, mostly.”

They were standing outside on their front porch, looking at their grassy, mostly green grass. It was pretty tall. And starting to go to seed, reminding Rose of the wheat-like plants on Serin III - those were green, too. They had green bread.

“You’re gonna have to mow it,” she told him, patting his arm apologetically.

“Me? Why me?”

“Because you’re the one who wanted a big garden.”

“Maybe I also want a big fence. So that nosy city people who get paid to judge my grass can’t see it. That will show them. Or, or, we can get rid of all the grass! Put flowers and trees and things instead. Then see what these people have to say.”

“Or you could mow the grass,” Rose said, before giving him a kiss on the cheek and heading back inside. They had to be in at Torchwood soon and she still wasn’t done getting ready.

The rest of the week passed by in a blur of alien ‘incidents’, way too much paperwork, and the Doctor’s unending attempts to get out of either of them doing work the moment he got bored of it. Once the weekend arrived, she was exhausted and he was adorably and delightfully insistent on making her forget about any and all stress or responsibilities.

Monday morning saw another letter regarding their grass. This time with a deadline, and a fine promised if they didn’t have it taken care of by the end of the week.

“We don’t even have a mower!” the Doctor complained, crumpling up the piece of paper and throwing it across the sitting room.

“We’ll just have to get one. We can go after work. I’ll tell dad that we need to leave early.”

“Mmm I suppose, if it gets us out early,” he conceded, still pouting.

So they left work early and went to the hardware store, where the Doctor made no less than three scenes while complaining about the primitive technology, comparing gardening tools from different times and planets, and attempting to test drive a riding mower in the store (the lack of petrol in the floor model having easily been circumvented with a few applications of his sonic screwdriver). Obviously they ended up buying the one that he tampered with. And of course they were asked never to return.

“It said on the sign that you offer free delivery?” were the Doctor’s parting words before Rose dragged him away from the counter, telling the quietly furious manager that she would send someone to pick it up for them.

“Well that was rude of them,” he began as soon as they got into the car, “I was only trying to-”

“Nope. No. You should know better by now. We’ve been through this. Just … quiet,” Rose sighed. She wasn’t angry, but she didn’t know what exactly she was feeling - some mix of frustration, disappointment, and exhaustion. Despite the fact that he now only had one heart, she never forgot that he was an alien. Usually she loved all of his alien-ness.

Just not so much when it clashed with their attempt at living a very human life. But they wouldn’t be stuck planet-bound forever. In a few years their TARDIS would be ready for flight, and then they would once again have all of time and space at their disposal. A whole new universe to explore.

Rose just didn’t know how they were both going to manage to stay sane until they got that far.

Surprisingly, he followed her instructions and the ride home passed in complete silence. It wasn’t until she pulled into the garage that he spoke, and even then it was a whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

She turned to him, frowning, worried that she was being too hard on him. It really hadn’t been very long since he’d been stranded here with her. No functioning TARDIS, stuck on the slow path in a universe he didn’t belong in and a body that felt foreign to him.

“It’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s not. You were right. I do know better. It’s just- I just- it’s all so linear, all the time! And so stationery! If I’d ridden a mower through a shop before, it wouldn’t have mattered. We’d have ran off, back to the TARDIS, onto the next adventure. But now there’s consequences, and licenses, and passports, and credit cards, and rude letters about our grass! And I did know better, but I did it anyway because, because- what if we get boring, Rose? What if we become the kind of people who just go to work, and watch telly, and eat beans on toast, and trim our grass and that’s all?” he asked, both hands now fisted in his very disheveled hair and a look of pure panic on his face.

“Listen,” Rose said, leaning over the center console to place both of her hands lightly against the side of his head, thumbs rubbing his temples in a way she knew soothed him. “We are never going to be boring, whether or not you vandalize shops. Our job is defending the Earth from alien threats … and sometimes the other way around. And I’m sorry we went to get a mower to begin with. I don’t care. If you want our grass to get as tall as it can, I don’t care. We can just pay the fine. Okay?”

The Doctor’s hands had moved from his hair into hers and then he snogged her to within an inch of her life, stopping only when he kneed the console and hit his head on the roof of the car when he tried to get closer. The windows had all fogged up.

They were awoken the next day with a call from her mum - they had made the tabloids, again. Contrite, the Doctor made her a lovely breakfast but she didn’t have time to eat it after having to spend nearly an hour on the phone with Jackie screeching in her ear.

When lunch came around, Rose felt tired and irritable and hungry but instead of going to the canteen she marched into Pete’s office.

“I need some time off,” she announced, cutting off whatever her dad had been about to say in greeting. “Me and the Doctor both. A vacation. Right away. I’ve got plenty saved up.”

“Does this have something to do with the ‘mower incident’?” he asked, raising both eyebrows and sitting back down behind his desk.

“No. Yes? I don’t know! We just- we need a break.”

Despite the spontaneity of it all, Pete had lunch brought up and they were able to schedule three weeks of vacation time, starting the next day. When Rose went up to the Doctor’s lab to tell him, he was nowhere to be found. The floor’s lab manager said that he had disappeared over an hour ago, no one knew where. This wasn’t exactly new behavior, so she shrugged it off and went to finish up her day of writing up reports. He was waiting for her in the carpark at the end of the day, as usual, a huge grin lighting up his face the moment he saw her.

“Did Pete tell you the news?” she asked, a little disappointed that she hadn’t gotten to be the one to tell him.

“News? What news?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Oh. You seemed so happy, I figured he musta told you.”

“No. No one told me anything. I’m always happy to see you. But what is this news?” he asked, somehow managing to still be nearly bouncing even as they got into the car.

“We’re on vacation. Starting now.”

“What?! Really?! Where are we going? What would you like to do?”

“Hmm … well, we’ve got three weeks. We can go wherever we want. Could be outta the country in a couple hours,” she informed him with a tongue touched grin.

“Rose Tyler, have I told you how absolutely brilliant you are?”

“Hmmm … ‘m not sure,” she teased.

“You are. Absolutely, astonishingly, brilliant. Are we off to the Zeppelin right now?” he asked, looking out the window as if this wasn’t the same route they took every day.

“No, we have to go home first to pack.”

“Ah. Right, wizard! And we can figure out where to first! Europe? Asia? The Americas? Zeppelin travel is so slow, maybe explore parallel Europe this time?”

During the drive home, the Doctor barely stopped for breath. It was the most excited she had seen him since they’d gotten to this universe. He was so happy, it almost made her heart hurt.

When they pulled into the driveway she immediately noticed that the grass had been trimmed … well, part of it, at least. A small bit.

“When’d you do this?” Rose asked, not bothering to pull into the garage.

“Oh! I took a long lunch. What do you think?” he asked, bounding into the garden and only walking in the mowed bits.

“Well, I mean, you missed some,” she laughed.

“No, no, come here.”

He took her hand and led her on a winding and loopy path that went in an arch from one side of their front yard, to their backyard, and then to the other side of the front.

“Well it’s definitely not a maze … does it say something?” she asked once they were back in the driveway.

“You’re right, it does! 10 points to Gryffindor! Perhaps an aerial view is necessary.” Still holding her hand, the Doctor headed inside, no doubt with a plan to get onto the roof.

“Oh, that reminds me, Doctor … this universe does still have Harry Potter, but …” she hesitated as they reached the stairs.

“But what?” he asked, turning toward her with wide eyes.

“The names of the houses are different.”

“What?!” he screeched. “Months! We’ve been here months, and you don’t tell me this until now?! What are they?! No! Don’t tell me. No spoilers. Ohhh I’m going to have to reread everything, aren’t I? Every book. Who knows how many things are different?” The Doctor dropped her hand in order to ruffle his hair, as the other one was still holding onto the rail.

“Did you still want to go to the roof?” she asked, hesitating only a little. He tended to have a flair for the dramatic, but sometimes he was genuinely upset. It was just, occasionally, a little hard to tell which was which.

“Right, yes, roof. Roof, then packing, then books, then vacation,” he listed, taking her hand again and almost running up the stairs. “We can spend a day at the beach somewhere. You love beaches. You can go swimming, and I can start rereading. Or is it just reading?”

Soon enough they managed to get onto the roof from the balcony that came off their bedroom (one of the Doctor’s ‘must haves’ in a house). Looking down, spelled out in the garden in messy cursive was, ‘I love you Rose’.

“Oh,” she breathed, covering her mouth with her hand and fighting the tears that were suddenly gathering in her eyes.

“What do you think?” he asked, after they had both been silent for too long.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, pulling him into a kiss. They wobbled unsteadily for a moment before the Doctor slowly guided them both downward until they were sitting, less in danger of falling.

“I love you, too,” Rose told him, when they finally paused to breathe.

His answering smile was so bright, it put the sun to shame.

They eventually got off of the roof, but it was hours before they left the house. Once they finally boarded a Zeppelin, the Doctor was disappointed to realize they had forgotten to pick up books. And three weeks later, when they got back from Europe, there was a pile of mail right inside their front door - much of which were fines and late fees regarding their grassy, now not-so-green grass.

Rose paid them.

The Doctor built a perception filter.

Letters stopped coming, and it worked so well that not even Jackie ever said a word about how untended it was. The whole thing slipped Rose’s mind in the months that followed, until one evening at sunset the Doctor took her up onto the roof again.

Colors streaked across the sky, and the first couple of stars were beginning to peak out as the sun disappeared under the horizon.

“Those are still there because of you,” he whispered in her ear, nuzzling into her neck before placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Mmm … I did have a little bit of help,” she said, brushing a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, satisfied when the Doctor sighed against her.

“Just a little?”

“Yeah,” Rose giggled, “from Mickey. Remember him?”

At the Doctors indignant squawk, she fully burst out laughing.

“I had a lot of help from you,” she told him, no longer teasing.

“Thought so,” he muttered, mollified. They were quiet for a few moments before he said, “And now here we are.”

“Yeah.”

“Rose?” he asked, sitting up. Her neck and shoulder were suddenly chilled with the absence of his body heat. When she looked over at him, he seemed nervous.

“What is it?”

“I- well- uhm …” the Doctor floundered for a moment before saying, “What do you think of the garden?”

Incredibly confused, Rose Tyler looked down and was surprised to once again find words trimmed into the grass.

‘Marry me?’

#hey-there-juliet #answered #doctorroseprompts #ficandchips #tentoo x rose #dw fic #timepetals #dw fanfiction #prompt fic: aerial view necessary #fandom: doctor who #pairing: rose x doctor #my fic #prompt fic

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comicteaparty · 4 years

Text

January 25th-January 31st, 2020 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from January 25th, 2020 to January 31st, 2020. The chat focused on the following question:

When dealing with criticism, how do you personally decide what is and isn’t legitimate criticism for your story?

Deo101 [Millennium]

For me, the only criticism i take from any critique (even professors) are the ones that I feel push me closer to my goals as an artist. I also only consider critique that comes with my consent and from a place of trying to help me grow. This second bit (trying to help) is something I can't really explain how to tell, you just kind of start to learn over time.

malverav

My philosophy regarding criticism is twofold: I don't take crit from people that I wouldn't take advice from, and I don't take unsolicited crit. I tend to seek out crit from people I know, respect, and trust who also get what I'm doing with my work and get what I'm aiming for. That, and after a certain level, crit is a matter of taste. Saying "this anatomy is squirrelly" or "push your contrast in values" is very useful and somewhat objective, but something like "you should shade like this, not like that" or "use a different colour" is simply a matter of taste in my opinion. It's why I don't take crit from everyone as everyone's tastes are different. I don't take crit from, say, @xX_roxas_fan_69_Xx saying 'your story sucks' with a three paragraph rundown of why. Random commenters? I don't listen to them if they're not paying my bills. Besides, a lot of those randos seem to enjoy tearing someone down and looking like the smartest person in the room, rather than doing something useful. It really speak to entitlement that someone thinks they can swan in and offer an artist their great and wise critique - who made you the boss of art, @xX_roxas_fan_69_Xx? There's a certain danger in listening to too much crit and advice, and after a certain point you just have to pay attention to your own instincts.

Tuyetnhi

Rip I usually don't take crit from folks on the internet or irl if I don't ask for it. Most of the time I often check with my peers to give advice because I know they'll help me push forward in my work. Though I'm thankful that I had advice from some industry folks but dang, that kind of stuff is uncommon.

I do have comments that really doesn't address the story at all and some superficial comparisons. Those I don't respond.(edited)

keii4ii

Everyone's brought up excellent points, many of which I personally employ as well. Here's one I haven't seen yet: If a criticism is extremely negative, to a point where "if this is correct, then my entire comic is garbage and I should start over" is the only logical conclusion, then I'm not going to consider it. Because yeah, I'm not going to start over. Doesn't matter how genuine their intentions at that point. Either they're right and I have an irredeemable pile of garbage -- which I'm not willing to throw out, so rip. Or they're "wrong" (as in, they got that negative because they are 10000% not my target audience) in which case, it'd be pointless trying to please them.

To clarify, "extremely negative" doesn't have to be a literal "your comic sucks at everything." Maybe they'll have some positive things to say, but with regards to my most important goals with the story, they'll have nothing but total negatives to say. e.g. "None of your jokes are even remotely funny, but hey, nice art" for a comedy comic.

DaemonDan (The Demon Archives)

I like to think I'm fairly opened minded with regards to most crit, as long as it feels well intentioned, and as long as I can see where they're coming from.

That doesn't mean I'm necessarily going to change anything on that given page (too expensive for me since I have to pay my artist for everything), but it's something to consider going forward

Especially if it is a concern/question about plot or something that I haven't explained well yet and didn't have planned to explain/show.

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

I can’t put into words exactly how I ‘tell’ if it’s legit or not. If it’s just ripping my work apart and delivered in an aggressive tone, I know that it’s ill-intended and not to pay it any mind. If it’s also from a serial nitpicker, I usually disregard it as well. If it’s polite and well thought out, I’m more likely to pay attention. Even then, I’m usually able to tell if it’s good, applicable advice or well-meaning, but subjective opinions that simply don’t apply. I’m usually pretty aware of the flaws in my work and can hold it at arms length to see if a crit really does have a good point. If I think it will genuinely help me improve, I’ll start incorporating the advice into my work. Because if a critique helps me get better at what I’m already trying to do, then I’m all ears. I’m always open to con crit, and I think carefully about what was pointed out, but I also take it with a grain of salt. Probably the biggest thing I learnt as an art student wasn’t about making art, but how to parse critique I received.(edited)

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

There's really only two types of criticism I completely disregard - 1) Something that shows the critiquer's vision of the comic is completely different from my own (e.g. "I liked the bad drawings better, you should have stuck with that"). 2) Some variation of "stop making the comic" (e.g. "you should stop posting art until you improve more") (both of which are real criticisms I've gotten. the latter one surprisingly recently.) Also, sometimes a criticism is... difficult to understand? Like I'll try to take "the dialogue doesn't pull me into the next page" into consideration, but... it's hard to nail down exactly what that means, y'know? Fortunately I haven't really gotten any bad faith criticism or un-asked for criticism, so, that's nice.

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Luckily I haven't received too much critique/criticism on my comic work, and (so far!) certainly nothing harsh or insulting. In all honesty, I could use a bit more critique, and should probably actively seek it out, so I could keep learning and improving! As such, I've taken all the criticisms into account to varying degrees. If I can't easily go back and fix something, I can always keep that note in mind for future pages. I'm usually most concerned about clarity of plot/progression - aesthetic choices are a matter of preference, but if a reader just plain can't tell what's happening, that's my biggest concern. A comic can be many things, but it should at least be legible, both in words and in images. I take notes on legibility/clarity very seriously.(edited)

varethane

I liked deo's comment at the top about considering crit if it gets you closer to your goals... for me, that's often the most important aspect. Feedback from someone who understands what I'm trying to do is really valuable, because it can help me pin down things that I was already kind of aware weren't working but couldnt put into words. When it comes to unsolicited crit, honestly the most useful ones I've gotten were from readers who didnt even realize they were making a crit. When I start to see comments that appear to be misunderstanding what i intended to put into a page, then I know I need to make some changes.

AntiBunny

In a world of very quiet readers I've had to seek out criticism. Much of what I've gotten is pretty legitimate as a result. I find that legitimate criticism usually can back up its argument. You'll have examples of what's wrong, point out counterexamples, of have suggestions to how to make it better.

Illegitimate criticism is usually cases of personal insults or just saying "it's bad." However there are also cases of people attempting to give legitimate criticism, but missing the point. Usually those who didn't do their homework.

For instance in AntiBunny http://antibunny.net/ one of the biggest failings I've seen at giving legitimate criticism was "I didn't finish it, but it seems incomplete." That's a good example of someone not doing the reading necessary to back up their comment.

And lastly those who just don't realize that the subject matter isn't for them, and confuse that with a judgment of quality such as "I don't like black and white comics," and "I don't like anthropomorphic animal comics."

More legitimate arguments I've gotten, that actually did help me improve were comments on the old site design, which was really stuck in my rather late 90's HTML coding skills, so I took the time to learn a bit of CSS, and improved upon it. Others were about the early art style, which I've grown and evolved from since then. And of course about the text being hard to read, so I moved away from hand written text, and tried several fonts before settling on a free and open font. Jr Hand if anyone is interested.

In short, legitimate criticism helps you improve, illegitimate is either an attack, or just misses the point.

kayotics

I tend to seek out crit from people who I trust, first and foremost. Usually before I even start the work. Unsolicited critique, I think about it for a few days and then decide whether it’s appropriate or not. I do this because I’ve gotten critique before that HAS hurt me enough for me to stop a project. Other people’s opinions of me affects me a lot, and I have to mull on their words to decide whether or not they’re being honest or if they’re saying something to me in bad faith. Sometimes it’s hard to separate what’s legitimate criticism and what’s just entirely incorrect, so that’s why I take a few days to mull on it before acting on it.

keii4ii

Yeah, sometimes even a good faith critique can just... miss the point entirely, and it can demoralize me in a unique way. 'They're genuinely trying to be helpful, so they have to be right..........' kinda thing -- which is not always the case, I've had to remind myself.

Deo101 [Millennium]

Another thing about critique, is if it is truly in good faith and trying to help you grow... They won't mind if you don't take it.

kzuich

I've always said thanks no matter the feedback...but I've definitely gotten crappy critique that wasn't helpful before. One of the worst I've ever received when I was soliciting feedback was from someone who couldn't pinpoint what they didn't like about my comic, but said it was "wasted potential" and needed to be more serious. (Wut.) They then tried to tell me that they'd be willing to help me if I'd invite them on as a writer/editor, and now I'm thinking that person didn't even read my comic and was just trying to neg me into giving them a spot on my site so they'd have a project with their name attached to it or something xD(edited)

(For the record...my comic is a very lighthearted comedy. Like...way to miss the point! xD)

Cherryzombs

Oof. -_- Reminds me of an art teacher once putting "Not Creative Enough" on one of my works. I dunno what to do with that...

kzuich

Lol art teachers like that always got under my skin.

keii4ii

Yeah, critics missing the point is a big part of why I've become extremely selective about who to ask crits from!

kzuich

I don't really solicit feedback much anymore.

Not because I don't want critique

It's just...There are not a lot of people who actually know -how- to critique

keii4ii

Sometimes you can glean some good things from a critique that just missed the point -- like, sometimes it can help you see why they missed it and how you can maybe prevent that. But.... I don't have the spoons for that kinda gleaning anymore.

kzuich

I don't mind people reviewing my comic, because, well, hey exposure! But if I ask for feedback, I'm asking people who make comics. Because the best critique I've ever gotten was over on the SF discord. A user actually gave critique that was extremely helpful and on-point.

keii4ii

Even fellow comickers can be unhelpful, too. Every person whom I've asked for critique was making a comic, but the helpfulness has varied a lot.

kzuich

Yeah that's true

keii4ii

"I hate, hate, HATE your MC, so you should kill him off or otherwise get rid of him forever" was told to me by a fellow comic creator.... and I was already doing like, chapter 7, so yeah, removing the MC wasn't really an option X'D

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

YIKES WHAT

kzuich

You could always do a 180 and really trip out your readers

very ~experimental~

The critic who hated my comic would've loved that

I gotta dig up that critique because it was really funny. My husband and I will make jokes about it from time to time lol

keii4ii

XDD

kzuich

Like have I totally turned this on its head? I'm critiquing the critic

Cherryzombs

When someone asks me for feedback I tend to ask what specifically they want notes on.

Otherwise I don't really offer it. >.>

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

I usually ask if they want critique first and then do the compliment sandwich if they say yes.

And try to really emphasise the things I like and feel are working.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

@Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios) "compliment sandwich" I love that.

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

I didn’t come up with it, but thank you! XD

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

In regards to how I myself determine what critiques are worth my consideration... I like what @Deo101 [Millennium] and @varethane spoke about with the idea of our personal vision for our work. Whether or not someone gets what I'm trying to accomplish from my work or not plays a huge role in whether I'll take their critique seriously. An example of this is in my comic Whispers of the Past, there was a scene where a character had a flashback, and to show that it was a flashback, I made the background behind the panels black instead of white. A commenter told me I should make the background behind all the panels black because it adds more contrast. By itself, the critique wasn't that harmful or incorrect, but in the context of "this story is gonna have a bunch of flashbacks and I need a way to differentiate them from present time," it definitely was a critique that wasn't really helpful to me. The commenter clearly didn't understand that it was a flashback. Another type of critique I don't pay attention to are critiques where the critic is pointing out something that I can't really change. Or are being unintentionally rude, "It's too short." "I can't remember what happened in the past updates because of the infrequent postings." "I would rather you wait until you have X pages before posting." Um... I can't just simply draw FASTER. I'm not a GOD. And finally, critiques that have to do with taste and not quality. I had an art professor whose common critiques of my work included, "This is too illustrational," and "The colors are too saturated." To which my responses were: https://media.tenor.com/images/7dfa6d3d76a277b8c204945ae8fd3161/tenor.gif(edited)

renieplayerone

for me, I tend to ignore a lot of random critique, or at the very least put it aside and ask a friend later. What I do trust for critique is when the critique comes from other comic writers and artists who I know, and I seek out the critique on my own. I also tend to take more to critique when it's constructive or from a good-faith helpful place, like "hey this page could use some more clarity to get your point across" rather than "whut? Idk what this is". I also am in some writer groups where we do crit nights, which are very structured and from a "I want to see you succeed, lets help make that happen" standpoint, so Im much more likely to listen to them than a rando on the internet saying "draw it, but gud"

carcarchu

@keii4ii i once read a webcomic where the author killed the main love interest after 100 chapters and replaced him with a clone xD i really respect the author's boldness there

kzuich

lol what a legend

DanitheCarutor

Usually I try to put any criticism for anyone into consideration, sometimes a stranger might have more knowledge of what I'm trying to do than I do, and I have gotten really good advice for randos popping in with critique and suggestions. Although, due to my story being super tight, I usually end up weeding out whatever doesn't apply to what I'm currently trying to accomplish with it. This sucks because that's a lot of story critique, and it makes me look like some child who can't handle negative feedback. There has been comments that I should make more happy scenes or get rid of some heavy stuff, make the comic more like Breaking Bad (Never seen this show. ) because it's too boring, having romantic scenes to fit the title, make my MC Julian less "weird" and more likable. I can change small things, but big stuff that has an affect on the main plot would make me have to rework the entire story... which then it wouldn't really be TGtaHR. I can do some tweaking to the main stuff, but the person giving the critique would have to know the whole story, and what I'm trying to accomplish. At least in my extremely anal opinion.

Art wise I'm more open, there have been really good suggestions about me using more contrast and values to draw the audience's eyes to what I want them to see, I've been told to simplify my backgrounds or use less bold colors which is a problem for me since I'm REALLY into drawing detail, or that I need to make my speechbubbles more readable. These are valid critiques because these things do hinder the comic, and I have been trying to work on improving, although admittedly I do have a lot of trouble changing up my coloring and details. There have been a few interesting ones that I've kinda ignored since they don't really help? A couple people have said I should switch to drawing digitally because it looks more professional/polished, I've been told to stop drawing backgrounds entirely, someone said I should draw in a more aesthetically appealing style, and another one was that I drew too many dynamic angles. There is a critique I've gotten a few times in particular that I've kinda ignored, but I'm not sure if I should apply, which is that my shading is weird. As in my style of complementary shading looks bad, and while I really like that type of shading I'm not sure if I'm applying it correctly. The people who usually say this don't ever elaborate on what they mean, or how I can do better... except one person who said I should use a darker version of the same color or black for shading, which is kinda gross looking to me.

But yeah, I generally try really hard to take in criticism, but if I can't make it work for what I'm currently trying to do I move on.

varethane

Too...... many?? dynamic angles.....??

Tuyetnhi

wut omg there can't be too many dynamic angles

varethane

Yeah, uh, pretty sure you can disregard that one lmao

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Lol, I WISH I had that problem

DanitheCarutor

Yeah, that one totally caught me off guard, I've never heard of drawing too many angles. Usually the criticism is that you're not drawing enough. I told them I was practicing my perspective, which I am, but... yeah, didn't know what to say to that.

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

God, what I wouldn't give to have more angles I guess too much detail can be an overload, but still, better too many than too few

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Actually, one of the most legitimate critiques I ever got was from a professional editor at a convention where he was doing portfolio reviews. And you know what he said? That I should have more interesting camera angles.

SAWHAND

Lol! I do think most people have to force themselves to think about the camera angles. I certainly do at least! I think the key to good critique is to understand that it's not really about liking or not liking something. It's not about preference at all. It's about letting the artist know what the audience is likely seeing or experiencing so that they know whether their intentions are coming across. And if you're getting that advice from other artists usually they can tell you why something feels a certain way. For example, a reader might say, "it seems really hectic", but an experienced artist might be able to say "I think having a lot of different camera angles so quickly is making the scene feel very hectic." (just using camera angles as an example, since it came up) And then as the artist, you can say oh great, that's exactly what I was going for, or you can think about changing it. But critique is just about helping an artist refine their vision, letting them know if the tools/techniques they're using are matching up well with their intentions.

RebelVampire

Yeah. Somewhat to the above, I could see a critic saying "too many dynamic angles" if they meant that there wasn't a good visual flow and it was hard to follow in that regard

It's always good to remember a lot of the people who have time to give critiques for a whole webcomic are actually not professional artists. So they can't always accurately describe in that realm what theyre seeing.(edited)

mariah (rainy day dreams)

This conversation reminded me of a Tumblr tutorial from m forever ago by one of the Adventure Time folks. It talks about a lot of things, but specifically I could see someone thinking the camera is "too dynamic" if a comic artist is breaking the 180° rule a lot in their panels or not following screen direction. Though screen direction is probably a little more forgiving in a non-animated format. Anyway, I'll put the link for that tutorial in #art_resources

Mei

Critique is a tough one. Because for the most part I accept critique from close friends that I trust and from my professors. Sometimes though, I personally feel like my art will be going one direction and will waylay the critique for another project. If that makes any sense. I guess what I mean is that sometimes you've already done so much on one piece or comic and when someone gives you critique it's like "okay thank you, I hear you, and I will implement it in the next thing I do, not this page that I am currently doing." I also tend to ask my friends if they don't mind critique? For things that are WIPs and shared. My friend once said "I mean what do you say to that... Can you even say no?" And I was like, "Yes you can completely say no and I wouldn't give critique it's as simple as that", but I guess when you're closer friends,it's less apprehension maybe. That being said, I haven't really run into the unsolicited critique category quite yet. I mean, I feel as if I'll run into that eventually, I've just been lucky enough not to. Plus, a lot of critique I get is actually about things I'm already aware that I need to improve on? I got some pretty fair critique from several people on several projects that I should work on backgrounds, layouts, and location. Which I know is a weakness I have, and honestly I avoid it a lot because I'm really scared of it? And I know that I have to just... work on it and do more visual studies if I ever want to improve. It's just a very daunting task, especially since I'm studying as a character animator, so the backgrounds are almost always secondary (I kept handing off backgrounds to friends to help do rip) And with what was said above about 'too many dynamic angles', I can see why that might be a critique for action sequences. Something like Boku Aca actually suffers visually from that! It's so dynamic that pages can end up looking clunky? I guess?!

DanitheCarutor

Urm to cover my ass, I do agree and see how too many dynamic angles can be a hindrance, but for out of the norm stuff like that I unfortunately need to be shown an example or elaboration on why that isn't working for me. I don't remember how far back the critique was, maybe around chapter 2 or 3. They never pointed anything out, but I believe they were responding to pages like these. Edit: DON'T actually read the contents of these pages, a couple of them might have some heavy stuff that could make you uncomfortable.(edited)

(I do agree that the circular perspective page is awful, it was my first attempt and I didn't have a drawing table at the time to make a larger circle. I might redraw that page at some point.) But it's really hard to know exactly what they mean. Should I do more eye level shots? More talking heads? I'm super thick in the head, and need a little hand-holding, when it comes to understanding critiques like that. I do agree, though. There are so comics that have so much going on that they can be really hard to read.

Mei

I think in terms of dynamism it's just important to keep in mind that if EVERYTHING is dynamic ALL THE TIME, then it ceases to be 'dynamic' and becomes the norm, and it can be as whip-lashy as a movie that uses far too many jump cuts in an action movie. Like you want to be able to follow that continuous string of motion and jumpcuts can disturb that? So similarly in comics it's something people will say to keep in mind

I mean I don't see anything particularly wrong with the angles you're using in the pages you've linked! And at the end of the day, if it works for you then it works? And it's also a personal taste thing i think

some people LOVE comics with tonnes of dynamic panelling and angles. Other people prefer things really grounded in reality and more gentle in terms of the cuts

So I guess to string this back to the critique stuff, it's things you can take note of and be more aware of but doesn't necessarily mean that what you've already made is 'bad' or whatever, because it definitely isn't. I always see Critique as just things that other people notice that you don't, and sometimes they're helpful and sometimes it's like "Okay thanks for pointing that out"

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Yeah, those pages look good to me.

I particularly love the lighting in the last page.

Desnik

Oh this is a good creator question. So, for me, legitimate critique is when a person labels specific things in the story and proves that they actually read it, whether they do or don't like it. I might not take that person's suggestions but I do think about how the story's coming across. For instance one of my writing group friends hounded me over explaining each and every little thing in my story...but honestly I'm not going to infodump upfront. But her feedback is terribly important because if she's asking this kind of question about what's going on, she can't possibly be the only person who will be a bit lost(edited)

even though I'm not implementing her suggestion specifically the way she wants it (big simple infodump), at least I'm thinking about what information is clear and what's waiting to be explained later

There's also observing people because that can give me bigger clues than what they say. If they trip over a sentence when reading aloud, then I definitely check it out and see if I can make the prose easier to read. Little stuff like that.

DanitheCarutor

@Mei Sorry, haven't been online much this week. Oh yeah, that is totally understandable, and I have seen how too many odd camera angles or jump cuts can be jarring! I just thought it was an interesting critique since they never elaborated on what they meant, plus even though I've heard of certain angles ruining a scene, I've never actually heard about having too many dynamic angles so it just surprised me. A good chunk of webcomic creators default to more standard angles since perspective can be such a pain in the ass, and takes up extra time, so the feedback I usually see is to have more variety. Sorry if any of this came off like I was complaining! I really wasn't, I just wanted to answer the question with some examples of different types of criticism I've received. Talking about some of the ones that were odd, or I couldn't take for one reason or another. Didn't mean to draw so much attention to myself. xD That is true, though. It might have been personal taste, who knows, we can always improve more.

@Cronaj (Whispers of the Past) Thank you! I was really satisfied with how that page turned out!

Mei

@DanitheCarutor Oh no I never thought you were complaining at all! I was just responding haha sorry if that made you think I was being overly critical or anything. But yeah, I mean some people have different tastes or they point out different things that may or may not be problems. I think having a lot of critique can be a double edges sword anyway. On the one hand, it's great to hear outside opinions. On the other hand, they can give such varying advice that's all based on personal taste that it could not even apply to you. So it's like... take what you can and leave the rest or something?!

RebelVampire

While I normally don't participate in these, I will this week as a fiction writer and as someone who used to do webcomic reviews. For me, when it comes to dealing with criticism and critiques and deciding what's legit is to look for trends - which is the advice I generally give for anybody who doesn't know what to look for. Creativity is not an exact science, and as such, critiquing creative projects is not an exact science. While there are certainly foundations, in the bigger scheme of things, every critique is going to be different and unique. Every critic/reviewer/etc. has their own personal tastes, their own personal goals and aims when giving the criticism, their own personal style for giving a critique, and so on. This is why you can have two reviews that are completely opposite from each other in opinion, because each person is not only influenced by what they think makes a work good, but just their own personal focuses no matter how objective a critic tries to be. But, to me, this is why when you get several people all saying the same thing, that's the time to get concerned and consider changing something. Cause again, every critic is coming from a different place, and if people coming from different places are reaching the same approximate conclusion, they're actually probably on to something. So, I play the patience game, gather multiple critiques, and look for trends before putting stock into any one piece of criticism.

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

But what do you do when a bunch of people all say the same thing, but fixing that issue would take a ton of time and effort? A lot of people have said that my font is too small and hard to read. Is it worth it to spend a day just changing a bunch of letters on 70+ pages and saving and resizing them again? Despite all the people telling me it's an issue, I still don't really think it's that bad. I'm used to reading page format comics, and my font size is comparable to other page format comics. I think a big part of why people are complaining is because I'm a page-format comic on webtoons. But also I'm using a custom font which is my own handwriting. Obviously I'm used to reading my own handwriting and find it very legible, but other people aren't and so might find it more difficult to read. Maybe I can't look at the font objectively because of that : /

Kabocha

I think font issues and readability are... A different issue. One thing I noticed as I got older is that the small fonts I used to tend towards got harder and harder to read. So finding a balance between page legibility on the web and print is... Challenging. But it can be done. If you have a small screen with a high resolution (more than a cell phone), might be worth seeing how much you have to zoom in or focus to read it

Granted, I'm not yet 35, but my eyesight hasn't improved...;;!

mariah (rainy day dreams)

I'm not sure about updating the old stuff, but if it's something that's been repeatedly brought up I would definitely increase the size on pages going forward and see if that helps. I can see the value in also updating the old pages if people are dropping off because the type is too small, but also I feel like 70 pages is like right on the board for me of not worth it for the time it would take. The value of your time is a personal decision though.

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

Even when taking critique, I almost never apply that to old pages. Webcomic readers generally expect a level of improvement, so they can understand if early pages have issues that are fixed later on.

Kabocha

Agreed, though if you have a way to batch process files for export, that might not be bad? It really depends on how much of a barrier to readability it is.

But in the context of critique? Eh, worth knowing for future projects at minimum!

Kabocha

Anyway, to answer the question I suppose... How do I determine what's legitimate and what's not... I guess it depends -- I saw a few people mentioning whether the interests of the critique align with your growth (or I think I saw that; admittedly, I'm not really inclined to scroll up too far right now), or whether or not you trust the person giving the critique. I think those are two good things look at, for sure! I also think it's worth considering whether or not you care. Like, at the end of the day, if it's not a show-stopper or making the work unreadable or unenjoyable, then... Meh? Make a note of it for the future, see if it's something you can incorporate if you solicited the critique. If it's entirely unsolicited... bigger meh.

DanitheCarutor

@Mei Nooo you didn't make me feel that way, I just know it can come off that way to a lot of people and wanted to clarify. Differentiating critique based on personal taste from you doing something objectively bad can be really hard to do sometimes! I usually do what Rebel Vampire said and collect them until I see a trend, but sometimes I wonder if that single critique is someone noticing a flaw no one else does. Although that might be me over-thinking things. @RebelVampire That is a good reminder of how different people are, and how variety there is in how they view things. Man, I wish I knew about your reviews back when you still did them... and I also magically had a decent chunk of my comic finished, I really liked your style. For the most part I try to apply the idea of going off trends. Unfortunately there is one I do tend to ignore since it feels like ends up fitting with my intentions, which are critiques about making my story less sad/uncomfortable/heavy. It probably is a legit flaw, and I might be executing my story poorly for all I know, but I did want to make a comic that could be really sad and/or uncomfortable. Due to that I kind of ignore those critiques... even though I probably shouldn't, it's hard to tell for those ones specifically. But yeah, hoarding critiques like they're playing cards, then finding patterns to see what needs to be improved is a good way to find a quality in your work that might be objectively bad.

keii4ii

@DanitheCarutor I think that's a great point, especially for those of us making very niche stories. Even if you get 99 people telling you they don't like your work because of X, sometimes it is the 100th person that you're writing for, the one who LOVES that (very intentional and pivotal) X in your work.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

ESPECIALLY if those 99 critiques are not aligned with your artistic vision to begin with.

DanitheCarutor

Yeah, the hardest thing about making something niche is a lot of people aren't going to like it no matter how well you pull it off, also getting feedback that works with what you're trying to accomplish is kinda hard. I went into my comic know it wouldn't get a whole lot of people who would understand or enjoy it, so I decided it would be for myself to vent and whoever does like the story can tag along. That seemed like the best plan to keep from getting discouraged. It IS really nice when that 100th person comes along who loves that weird stuff as much as I do.

RebelVampire

@Eightfish (Puppeteer) To add my own two cents to previous replies about fixing old pages, I think this depends first off, what others have said, how you value your own personal time and whether you think its worth the effort. Second, though, I think is to consider what the issue is that needs to be fixed. Some issues are definitely more minor than others, and ppl accept if you fix them later. However, then there's issues like readability, too much front-loading of information, etc. that can be a bit more major because its effecting readers' ability to understand your comic. It's at that point I personally believe that it'd be better to fix earlier pages. Cause the average new reader isn't going to show up to the comic and go "Maybe this will improve with this major issue later." The average new reader is going to give your comic 20 pages at most and then leave if the issues are still there and they can't follow the comic. In other words, always remember readers still have to read the beginning pages in order to get to the improved pages. So the question is, do you think the issue is something that will make readers drop the comic before they even get to that point? Again, though, emphasis, this is a personal decision. There are people who would put in the effort, and people who wouldn't. And both are right because what you do with criticism is ultimately your business.

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #comic tea party #ctp #creator interview #comic creator interview #creator babble

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randomfandomnessss · 6 years

Text

Laundry Virgin (John Watson x Reader)

A/N: Hey everyone! This is Emma, the writer. I just wanted to make you all aware of a slightly different formatting that I’m going to start implementing in these fics. Especially in light of Pride Month, a month that is near and dear to my heart, I realized that a lot of the fics that I’ve written have been specifically geared towards women. Now that’s all well and good, but I realized that I was excluding any LGBTQ+ readers from gaining full enjoyment of this blog. If this has included you, I would like to apologize because everyone should have the opportunity to enjoy this account to its fullest. Because of this, I am going to start writing more gender neutral fics. The fic below is my first gender neutral story. As usual, if any of you have any suggestions for improvements that I can make or any requests for future stories, we are MORE than happy to create something that you would like to see. Make sure to comment below with what you’d like to see!

Much love,

Emma

PROMPT: Based off of an Episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S where Ross and Rachel go to the laundromat together and have their first kiss.

I walk into the laundromat with my bright red basket tucked beneath my arm. I don’t have much laundry to do myself, but because Sherlock almost never decides to exercise personal cleanliness, I periodically have to run by the flat and pick up all of the clothes that he has decided to fling into a pile where he knows I will inevitably visit to collect.

My basket is heavy with Sherlock’s sheets, bath and kitchen towels and his usual load of dirty clothes today. After a few months of living with him I realized that if I was not the one washing the sheets and Sherlock was not the one washing the sheets, his sheets had in fact not been washed in at least six months, and this posed a serious hazard that might soon need to be addressed by the Health Department.

I scoured the entire flat for all linens and arranged a trip to the laundromat posthaste.

I am surprised to see the hoards of people crowding the laundromat on this rainy Wednesday afternoon, but try to blend into the crowd and find a washing machine to use.

Luckily, I spy one tucked away in a corner that’s been overlooked by most other people.

I carry my basket over and begin to load my clothes into the machine.

Next to me, someone carries their basket and sets it down carefully on top of a machine. They pat their pockets and a confused look crosses their face. They turn to retrace their steps, presumably to look for something, and a woman darts forward with a sharp and cunning look in her eye, sweeping aside the basket resting atop the washing machine and beginning to load in her own clothes.

The person turns again, and smiles politely.

It’s a beautiful smile, and one that I’ve been looking at for a little too long to be socially acceptable. I blush and turn away.

“Excuse me, I was kind of using that machine.” The person with the beautiful smile says to the woman.

“Yeah, well now you’re kinda not.” The woman speaks with a heavy Cockney accent, and flashes a nasty, yellowed grin.

The smile melts away, and their brow is now furrowed. “I beg your pardon, but I put my basket on top of the machine. In most circles, you know... That’s kind of an unofficial reservation?”

The woman widens her eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, was that your basket?”

“Yes,” the person smiles again, and relaxes slightly.

“It’s a beautiful basket you got there. It’s unfortunate that I don’t see any suds.” The scheming edge returns to the woman’s voice as she casts a sidelong look at the person clutching their basket.

“Pardon?”

“No suds, no save, okay?”

I can see the person visually deflating. After scraping up my confidence, I turn to the arguing pair.

“Excuse me, what’s going on here?”

“Oh, er, nothing, this horrible woman took my machine.” The person looks vaguely shocked at their words, but I pay no mind to them.

“Well, was your basket on top of the machine?”

“Yes, but apparently the issue is that I didn’t have any suds.”

“Why is that an issue?”

“Well, you know... ‘No suds, no save’.” The person shrugs and shakes their head, sighing.

I bite my lip and turn to the woman eagerly stuffing her clothes into the pilfered machine.

“Excuse me miss, this is my friend’s machine.”

“It ain’t my fault they didn’t put their clothes in first, innit?”

“Now, now, that isn’t the rule and you know it. Kindly remove your things so that this kind person can wash their clothes.”

The woman cast me a foul look, and turned to see several pairs of eyes now fixed on the unfolding scene.

She snatched up her clothes from out of the washing machine, shoved them back inside of her basket and stormed away.

I turned to the crowd of milling people who were staring at the scene with vague interest and hold up my hands to signal an end to the scene. “All right everyone, show’s over. Please return to your laundry.”

I turn back to the person whose face is now completely red with embarrassment, but there’s also gratitude in their eyes.

“Thank you... That was amazing. I usually can’t even send back soup without feeling like I’m somehow in the wrong.” They smile again at me, that beautiful, dazzling smile.

“Oh, sorry, would you like to use some of my detergent? I don’t see any with you...”

They look around and sigh. “Thank you, that would be lovely. You’re like my personal laundry hero.” They blush.

I grin back foolishly and grab my detergent, whirling around to give it to them as soon as I can.

Something inside me feels like they shouldn’t have to wait for anything. I don’t know why I feel this way, I barely know them, but the feeling is strong and insistent.

I drop the laundry detergent and can’t do anything for a few seconds except stare in dismay at the bottle on the ground and mutter a weak, “Oh...”

They laugh, but try to play it off as a cough.

I bend down, grab the bottle again and hold it out to them.

“So, here it is... It’s Uberweiss, an extra-tough German detergent. It’s new. I don’t know why I’m telling you this... Aren’t you going to separate those?” I ask suddenly, glad that I noticed that they were loading all of the clothes into the same washing machine to distract from my endless train of babbling.

They stare down at the washing machine, a confused, lost expression on their face.

“Am I not supposed to? Sorry, am I supposed to use one for shirts and one for trousers, or...?” They trail off and then a thought occurs to me that would explain why they’ve looked so lost throughout this entire encounter.

“Have you ever done laundry before?”

“I-I-I-I, well, I know other people that have, and my mum has a machine in her house, and I...” They sigh and smile, throwing out their arms in defeat. “Okay, you discovered me.” They lean forward and wink at me. “I’m a laundry virgin.”

I chuckle nervously and tug at the top button of my collar. “Well, that’s okay, I’ll use the gentle cycle.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid! I berate myself for sounding like a total creep.

“Okay, um, basically you want to use one machine for whites and another machine for your colors, and a third machine for all of your... delicates...” I try to say it politely, but they give me a confused look. “Your, you know, undergarments?” I try again, and the confusion clears, replaced with a blush and a nervous chuckle.

“Ah, sorry, right then!”

They begin to sort their clothes, and soon stop.

“What about these? This pair of underwear is white cotton, so would that be under whites or delicates?” They hold the pair of underwear out to me and I feel the blush color me from the tips of my ears across my entire face.

“I, um, I think that would have to be a judgement call that you have to make.” I clear my throat.

“Right, of course. D’you have laundry of yourself that you have to do then?” They prompt gently.

“Ah, yes I do. I’ll be right next to you, you know, in case you have to deal with any more horrible women.”

We both laugh, and I shift slightly to the side to my own washing machine.

I know that between my clothes and all of the sheets in 221B that this is going to take multiple loads, so hopefully, I’ll have more time to spend with this person.

After a while, I hear the doors of three washing machines slam shut, and I hear the gentle whir of the machines as they start up.

The person leans up against a laundry machine and turns back to me, sighing happily.

“Thank you again for helping me out. I just moved to London, and I know this must sound really stupid, but I feel that if I can actually manage to do my own laundry and make it through the everyday things of being on your own, there really isn’t anything I can’t do, you know?”

I smile and subtly lean closer to them. “I do understand, and I don’t think that sounds stupid at all. Oh no,” I suddenly catch a glance of the machine which contains their whites.

“What, what’s wrong?” They ask anxiously and try to follow the line of my gaze. I leap in front of the machine window.

“Ah, the laundry’s done! Oh no is just a song that we sing when doing laundry, erm, ‘Oh no, the laundry’s done, the laundry’s done, the laundry’s done’!”

They put their hands on their hips and arch their eyebrows at me.

I raise my hands in defeat.

“Well, I’m really sorry to tell you this, especially after you telling me what doing your own laundry means to you, but there’s one tiny problem with your whites... You left a red sock in the wash with all of your white clothing and now everything is just the slightest bit...”

“Pink!” They gasp in dismay, and drop to their knees in front of the machine window. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

I put a hand on their shoulder and try to look on the bright side. “At least you got the clothes clean! In the end, that’s really the important part!”

“I suppose... But I don’t exactly fancy the fact that every piece of white clothing I own now looks like pajamas. Excuse me, he had that trolley first!” They suddenly leap forward to block the way of a woman trying to take my trolley.

I turn and see that it’s the exact same woman that made such a fuss over the washing machine earlier on.

“There weren’t any clothes in the cart.”

“You need to stop making up your own rules! This is our trolley, and if you want it...” They swallow, and step inside of the trolley defiantly. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to take me with it. Oh, but don’t worry, I’m good fun. I’m an absolute whiz at Monopoly.”

The woman looks between us, and back down at the trolley, rolls her eyes and turns to the door for the final time.

I turn to them in amazement.

“That was incredible!” I lean against the washing machine and smile. “We’ve gone through all this and I just realized we don’t know each other’s names. I’m John, John Watson.”

They lean forward inside of the cart and extend their hand. “Y/N, Y/L/N.”

I grasp their hand and look inside of their eyes. They have beautiful eyes. I bite my lip and before I can second guess myself, I blurt out, “Would you want to go out sometime with me? Maybe get some coffee?”

They blush and smile that paralyzing smile.

“I think that’d be a splendid second date.”

I furrow my brow, but still grin. “Second date?’

“I mean, you don’t do laundry with just ANYONE now, do you? That’s personal. Intimate. Sounds like a first date to me, don’t you think?”

I chuckle, and my nervousness begins to melt away.

“I suppose you’re right.”

Suddenly, the smile vanishes and they look nervous. “You know, I don’t often do things like this, but...”

Without a second thought, they tug my hand forward and press their lips firmly to mine.

It feels like fireworks inside of my skull, and everything feels warm and bright inside.

When they let me go again, I stand up stammering slightly, turn to grab my laundry and smack into an open cupboard door.

I drop to the ground like a stone and lie there dazed from the kiss and the sharp, throbbing pain radiating from my skull.

Y/N leaps out of the cart and drops to my side, eyes filled with concern.

I wave a hand lazily. “I’ll be fine. I’m a doctor, really.”

They roll their eyes. “First date, laundromat, second date, ER... What do you suppose we’ll do next?”

#john watson #dr. john watson #martin freeman #john watson x reader #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #friends #ross geller #rachel greene #rachel #ross #ross and rachel #GenderNeutral #Gender Neutral!Reader #lgbtq+

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chocolatequeennk · 7 years

Text

A Strangely Familiar Touch, 2/2

The Doctor was wandering through an alien market, minding his own business, when he felt a strangely familiar mind brush against his. The strange part was, he knew immediately that he had not met this woman yet–but apparently, he would one day.

Written for Eight x Rose August, with prompts from @legendslikestardust and @doctorroseprompts (Eight x Rose, dimension hopping Rose meets Eight)

This chapter was also written for @starsandfairytales for @dwinboxbuddies. The entire thing has been edited and reworked, so while several large chunks will be familiar, lots of it is new. And of course, it’s actually complete now! I hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing for you this month and reading your comments.

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP | Ch 1

Walking through an alien marketplace, the Doctor’s hand in hers and his mind hovering at the edges of hers, Rose felt at home for the first time in two years. It didn’t matter that she had never seen this cravat-wearing Doctor before today—he was still the Doctor, and they were still the Doctor and Rose.

But somewhere out there, her Doctor was waiting—the one she’d said goodbye to on Bad Wolf Bay. Rose tried to reach for him, but even though the bond had snapped back into place when she’d felt the younger Doctor’s presence, there still seemed to be… interference or something blocking her from her pinstriped Doctor.

“Is something wrong, Rose?”

When Rose looked up at the Doctor, her breath caught at the familiar concern in his blue eyes. The same man, always.

Before she could explain that she was worried about her Doctor, she felt another presence in her mind. The TARDIS was singing to her, calling her home.

Rose dropped the Doctor’s hand and ran towards the sound, careening around a corner and narrowly avoiding the shoppers coming in the opposite direction. She ignored the annoyed shouts, because she could see it now—the blue box parked at the end of the dead-end street.

She ran the remaining twenty yards, barely skidding to a halt before running into the ship. Her key was out and in her hand, and she slid it into the lock with shaking fingers.

When Rose stepped over the threshold, the console room lights flashed and the song swelled around her. Her eyes widened as she took in the cosy armchair and the bookshelves along the wall. She ran her fingers over the wood panelling, feeling the joyful buzz of the ship as she did.

“Oh, look at you!” she cooed. “You are beautiful.”

The door closed behind her, and Rose turned around to look at the Doctor. He was staring at her with little wrinkles around his eyes, and she could feel the confusion in his mind.

“Well that’s unusual,” he said, looking at the time rotor and then back at Rose. “She’s not usually so friendly with my travelling companions.”

Rose leaned on the console and looked at him with raised eyebrows. I’m not exactly an ordinary travelling companion, she reminded him.

His cheeks turned pink, and he tugged on his cravat exactly like her pinstriped Doctor would tug on his tie. She bit back her smile, and wondered if this Doctor babbled when he was nervous, or if he kept his smooth demeanour.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes; Rose was entirely too entertained by his perfectly natural bemusement. It wasn’t every day one met their future bondmate after all—not even for a Time Lord.

He tilted his head and smirked at her. Obviously not, he agreed, letting the thought wrap around her mind. When Rose shivered and her cheeks turned pink, he felt like he’d evened the score nicely.

Then he cleared his throat and spoke out loud again. “However, we were talking about your relationship with the TARDIS, not your relationship with me. If I didn’t know better, I would say she liked you even more than me.”

The TARDIS buzzed rudely in his mind, and the Doctor raised an eyebrow when Rose giggled in response. She even seemed to understand the ship’s unique way of communicating.

His eyebrow went up even higher when Rose tilted her head as if she were listening to something only she could hear. She turned towards the console and the Doctor’s jaw dropped when he realised she was setting coordinates.

The connection between his bondmate and his ship was humming around him. The Doctor narrowed his eyes and focused on it, while Rose continued to adjust their heading. How could she…

“You looked into the TARDIS…” he said, the words coming to him before he realised he was speaking.

Rose looked up at him, an ethereal smile on her face and a glint of gold in her eyes. “And she looked into me.”

She moved her hands away from the console, and the TARDIS prodded the Doctor forward. He studied the coordinates she’d set. “Well, it looks like she decided to help you find your Doctor without any help from me. If I’m reading this right, he’s in New York City in November of 1930.” He wrapped his fingers around a lever and smiled warmly at her. “Time to go home, Rose Tyler.”

The TARDIS rocked into motion. The Doctor smiled and shook his head when Rose laughed and grabbed onto the console, keeping her feet with ease. Everything about her seemed to fit perfectly into his life, exactly the way her hand fit perfectly into his.

He felt the same pull to keep her with him that he’d felt in by the fountain, but this time, it was stronger and harder to resist. The thought of letting her go when he’d just found her made his hearts ache.

Remember, if she stays with you now, your future self will suffer longer with a broken bond.

The Doctor cleared his throat and looked at his bondmate. “So, Rose, how long have we been bonded?” He watched in fascination as Rose twisted a diamond and rose gold ring around her finger instead of answering right away.

“That depends,” she said finally. She shrugged and looked at him. “D’you mean, how long were we bonded before we were separated? Or how long has it been, in total, for me?”

The Doctor leaned against the console and crossed his arms over his chest. The implication that a different length of time might have passed for his future self intrigued him, but… “Why don’t you start with the first?” he suggested.

She sighed and brushed a piece of hair back over her ear. “We were bonded for three months before I was trapped in a parallel universe.”

The Doctor narrowed his eyes. Getting to a parallel universe to bring Rose home shouldn’t have been a problem.

“The walls between the worlds are sealed,” she said when he started to protest. He closed his mouth, and she shrugged. “You tried… I know you did. But both worlds woulda collapsed if you’d come through.”

He nodded slowly. Something had apparently happened to destabilise the multiverse, making travel between dimensions incredibly dangerous. He tried to ignore the notion that the building war between the Time Lords and the Daleks could conceivably cause that kind of devastation, and focused his attention on Rose instead.

“And yet you found your way home.”

She tilted her head back, and her eyes glinted gold once more. “I promised to stay with you forever. I’m gonna keep that promise.”

The determination in her voice made the Doctor’s hearts stutter in his chest. “Rose,” he breathed, unable to say anything more.

Rose smiled and reached up to press her fingers gently to his temple. With the contact in this sensitive place, their bond opened as wide as it could.

Mind to mind, I bind myself to you, to the ends of space and time.

The Doctor gasped when she repeated the familiar words of the Gallifreyan bonding ceremony. He swayed slightly and reached automatically for Rose to anchor himself. She took a half-step towards him when his hand landed on her waist, and a moment later he felt her hand slide under his green frock coat. Her human heat seared through his waistcoat and his thin cotton shirt, and he shivered at the sensation.

Rose… The Doctor looked for some way of explaining how it felt to be so connected to another person. After a few moments, he gave up and bent down to press his forehead to hers. Their breathing synced automatically, and his eyes fluttered closed at the simple intimacy of it.

But a moment later, the TARDIS hit a patch of temporal turbulence, causing them both to nearly lose their balance. They grabbed each other’s coats to stay upright. When their flight evened out, they looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Oh, I missed this,” Rose admitted, shaking her head. “Silly, I know, but the tiny misadventures that are part of life with you were some of the things I missed the most.”

The Doctor reluctantly let go of Rose and leaned against the console. “How long were we separated, Rose?”

The loneliness he’d felt from her earlier that afternoon flared again, and her brown eyes turned glassy. “Two years,” she said, her voice raspy. “Two years without you in my head, Doctor. I thought… I thought I’d go spare at first, an’ then I just buried myself in the dimension cannon project so I could ignore the empty place in my mind.”

She brushed her hands down the front of her blue leather jacket, then stuck them in her jeans pockets. The Doctor waited patiently for her to ask the question he could feel at the edge of her mind, and finally, she looked up at him, her lip caught between her teeth and worry lines creasing her forehead.

“There’s something I’ve been wondering,” she said quietly. “You told me when we bonded that we’d be able to talk to each other from anywhere in the universe. But I’ve been tryin’ to reach my you ever since I saw you in the courtyard and realised I wasn’t quite home yet… and he’s not replying. It’s like he’s not there, even though having you here has taken care of my headache.”

The Doctor winced. The answer was immediately clear to him, but he knew it would upset Rose. However, the bond would make it obvious if he told her anything less than the truth—plus, he knew instinctively Rose would be upset if he sugarcoated things for her.

“You’ve experienced the trauma of a broken bond, Rose,” he reminded her gently. “You know how much it hurts. And my future self… he doesn’t have the benefit of a younger Rose popping into his life to offer even the facsimile of healing you’ve experienced.” The Doctor sighed and rubbed at his temple, where he could almost feel the phantom pain travelling back to him from the future. “It’s likely the wound from the broken bond left me unable to tell you had returned to this universe.”

Rose gasped, and a tear trickled down her cheek. The Doctor was prepared to offer her a hug, but to his surprise, she reached instead for the time rotor, pressing her hands to it. “Go faster, old girl, please,” she whispered brokenly. “Take me to him.”

oOoOo

The Doctor’s head pounded as he and Martha crossed New York Harbour to return to the TARDIS. The missing bond always hurt, but today it felt like someone was inside his skull, hammering against his temple from the inside with a pick axe. He lifted his hand and rubbed at the spot, and a second later, he sucked in a breath when pain radiated from his temple like a spider web, going down to his jaw and into his forehead.

Every day, the pain reminded him that Rose was gone. Not that I needed a reminder today, after seeing the Daleks again. Why do they always survive, when I have to go on alone? Why can’t they lose, just once?

He knew his anger was exacerbating his migraine, but how could he not be angry when the Daleks were here and Rose was still in the parallel universe?

He jumped when he felt a hand on his elbow, and Martha smiled apologetically when he turned to her. “Sorry.” She held up her hands. “But are you all right, Doctor? You’re rubbing at your head again. I would have thought with all your futuristic medicine, you wouldn’t get headaches.”

The Doctor laughed mirthlessly and lowered his hand, reaching automatically for his wedding band instead. “There are some kinds of pain that not even sixty-third century pain reliever can take care of,” he said as he twisted the ring around his finger.

Martha’s gaze dropped to his hand and she nodded. “I know you miss Rose,” she said quietly.

His throat closed up, but thankfully, the ferry docked on the island before he could reply to her implicit question. The ritual of disembarking from the boat kept Martha occupied for a few minutes, and by the time they were standing on terra firma, he could change the subject. With his head pounding and his hearts aching, he had no desire to talk to Martha about Rose.

In fact… He cast her a sidelong glance as they walked down the gangplank. One trip, he’d said. One trip as a thank you. And now he’d taken her on three. Maybe he should take Martha home, so he could be alone.

Martha shook her head as she struggled to keep up with the Doctor’s long strides on the way back to the TARDIS. She could almost see the loneliness he was trying to shake off, but it clung to him stubbornly. She sighed; today had obviously stirred up memories of his lost wife.

Maybe I can distract him a bit? she thought as she jogged alongside him. An idea came to her, and she crossed her fingers that it would work.

“Can I make a request?” she asked.

The Doctor cast her a sideways glance, and she could tell he was about to remind her that she’d only been invited along for a few trips. Martha shook her head quickly; there was no way she was letting him travel alone, not when he was still hurting this much.

“Wherever we go next, can it not be another version of New York City?” She raised an eyebrow. “Old New York wasn’t any better than New New York in the end.”

He stopped and ran a hand through his hair. “You haven’t had very good luck so far, have you?”

Martha snorted. “Cursed by witches, kidnapped and then nearly eaten by Macra, and captured by Daleks?” She hated herself for purposely triggering his guilt complex, but if he took her on another trip because he felt like he still owed it to her, then at least she’d achieved her goal of not leaving him alone. She could figure out a better way to stay on the TARDIS later.

His shoulders slumped, and she knew she’d been right in thinking he wanted to be alone.

“Just maybe one more,” she wheedled. “Maybe… oh! Going back to see the dodo before they go extinct?” she suggested. “Can’t be anything dangerous about that.”

The Doctor sighed and started walking again, without answering her question. Martha scowled at his back and was just about ready to bluntly tell him he was too self-destructive to be left alone, when he stopped suddenly, his whole posture stiffened.

“Doctor?”

He waved her off and tilted his head, like he was listening to something only he could hear. His whole body relaxed as he took a deep breath, then tensed, poised to run. His eyes were half closed, but after less than a minute, they snapped open.

“Rose!” he said, his voice strangled. Then he took off running.

The Doctor was vaguely aware that Martha was yelling his name, but he ignored her. Unless this was the worst trick the universe had ever played on him, Rose was here. He’d heard another TARDIS land, and then, impossibly, her warm, pink and gold presence had wrapped itself around his mind.

He reached out for it as he ran. Rose!

Oh God, Doctor, I’m here.

The Doctor’s vision went blurry as tears streamed down his face, but he trusted his telepathy and hurtled down the path towards Rose’s shining light.

As he turned the corner onto the path that led back to the TARDIS, he caught his first glimpse of her racing towards him, her hair flowing behind her, arms pumping as she ran. His laughter caught in his throat on a sob, and he somehow managed to put on more speed, closing the distance between them.

Then he skidded to a halt and held his arms out, and Rose covered the last few metres with a flying leap, hitting his body hard enough to momentarily knock the wind out of him. He recovered quickly and spun her around in circles, delighting in the sound of her laughter.

My Doctor. Her eyes sparkled with joy, a marked difference from the last time he’d seen her.

The Doctor carefully set her down on her feet. Rose, you’re here. Even though he could feel the warmth of her skin as he cupped her jaw, he still couldn’t believe she was actually there. Please tell me this is real.

It is. She turned her head to nuzzle into his hand. I’m here, love, I promise.

The Doctor took a shuddering breath to stave off the tears threatening once more. Then he slowly moved his hand to Rose’s temple, watching to make sure this was what she wanted.

In answer, she mirrored his motions with her own hand, and in wordless agreement, they made contact simultaneously.

The Doctor gasped when the pain of the broken bond was swept away by the pleasure of having Rose in his mind again. He swayed slightly under the onslaught of her overwhelming love, and he had to wrap an arm around her waist to steady himself.

Rose. He moved his hand slowly from her temple, letting his fingers sift through her hair. She tilted her head back, and he couldn’t resist the invitation, finally bending down to kiss her for the first time in six months.

Martha stopped dead in her tracks when she finally caught up with the Doctor—the Doctor, who was currently locked in a rather passionate embrace with a blonde woman. After a week of travelling with him, this was the last thing she’d expected to see, and she wasn’t sure how to react.

“That’s Rose, his wife,” another man said. “They’ve been separated for… a while.”

The surprise of being addressed by a stranger was enough to pull her attention away from the couple snogging in the middle of the park. Martha looked over at the man who’d spoken, then blinked a few times when she took in his green velvet frock coat.

“I thought she was gone,” Martha managed to say.

The stranger’s blue eyes crinkled up as he smiled. “She was, but she managed to come back to me. I suspect Rose Tyler will always find her way back to me.”

“To you?” Martha repeated, the implications making her head spin.

The man had the decency to look a little chagrinned. “Ah. Yes. I’m the Doctor, just a little younger than the one you know.”

Martha started to argue, then she considered everything she’d seen in the last week. “You know what?” she said, brushing a piece of hair out of her face. “I just left a pig man in Hooverville with his showgirl girlfriend. If you say you’re the Doctor, I suppose I can believe you.”

This younger Doctor tipped his head back and laughed in delight. “I take it you travel with me in the future?” he asked a moment later.

Martha crossed her arms over her chest and rested her weight on one foot. “If I don’t, you just gave a lot away to a perfect stranger,” she pointed out drily.

The Doctor shook his head and smiled at his future companion. Talking to her had been a welcome distraction from the uncomfortable jealousy stirring in his hearts as he watched himself kiss the woman he already felt connected to.

He could still feel Rose’s happiness, and as much as he tried to be glad he would one day make her that happy, he couldn’t deny the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. He would have to leave her behind—forget her, even, in order to preserve the timelines. And then who knew how long it would be before he found her again?

Just as he was considering sneaking away, Rose eased back from his older self, and a moment later, he found himself wrapped in a fierce hug.

The Doctor sighed and closed his eyes as he held Rose tight. He let himself indulge in one more brush of his mind against hers, knowing it would have to last him until he met Rose and found the courage to ask her to bond with him.

Thank you, Doctor, she whispered in his mind.

I will always be here for you, Rose. He pressed a kiss to her temple, letting his lips linger there until his future self cleared his throat.

The Doctor frowned, but stepped out of Rose’s embrace. “I suppose I really ought to be going now,” he said reluctantly. “And don’t worry, Doctor—I’ll conceal my memories of today as soon as I’m gone.” He smiled at Rose. “This is one timeline I have no desire to change.”

His future self nodded. “Thank you, Doctor. For bringing her home.”

The Doctor smiled wryly. “I’m considering it a downpayment on my future happiness. But now I should really go before I decide to be selfish and entice Rose to stay with me.”

Rose tilted her head and looked at him. “When you meet me,” she said after a long moment, “make sure you remember to tell me that she also travels in time.”

The Doctor felt the instruction sink into his subconscious, and he knew that somehow, he would remember that—even if it did take a bit for her words to jog his memory when the time was right.

He smiled and took her hand, brushing a kiss over the back of it. “Until we meet again.”

Rose felt her pinstriped Doctor slip an arm around her waist and pull her close as they watched his past self leave. The younger Doctor had been amused by what he had perceived as jealousy on the part of his future self, but standing next to him, feeling his mind in hers, Rose knew better.

Even though she was standing right beside him, the Doctor was terrified something would happen to take her away again.

I’m not going anywhere, love, she promised. Not without you.

Some of his anxiety eased, but he didn’t loosen his hold on her. Let’s go home, he suggested, turning slightly towards the TARDIS, standing only ten feet away.

Rose pressed her lips into a thin line at the obvious attempt at deflection. Obviously, it would take some time to recover from their separation.

A woman about her age was watching her and the Doctor with a small smile, and Rose poked at him telepathically. You gonna introduce me to your friend?

“Oh!” The Doctor jolted slightly, and Rose realised he had almost forgotten the other woman was there. “Martha Jones, this is Rose Tyler… my wife. Rose, this is Martha. She’s a medical student at Royal Hope in 2008.”

Rose smiled and held her hand out for Martha. “Thanks for watching out for him for me, Martha,” she said.

Martha grinned as she shook her hand. “It was a nice break from my studies, but I think I’m ready to go back now.”

Rose smiled, then turned towards the TARDIS to hide her relief. She didn’t want to kick anyone out of the ship, but after living apart from her bondmate for two years, they really needed time alone to get used to being together again.

“Come on,” the Doctor said, unlocking the TARDIS and opening the door. “Time for a quick trip back to London.”

A wave of dizziness washed over Martha as she stepped into the TARDIS. She stumbled as she walked down the ramp after the Doctor and Rose, and he just barely caught her before she hit the grating.

“Martha?” the Doctor asked, his voice sharp. “What’s wrong?”

She put her hand to her temple and shook her head. “It’s like… I suddenly have two sets of memories. Things that happened before are changing—Harold Saxon doesn’t even exist anymore, whereas before I left with you, he was all set to be the next prime minister, assuming the election went like everyone was predicting.”

The Doctor sucked in a breath, and Martha looked up at him, hoping he could explain what was happening.

“Timelines are changing,” he muttered, almost talking to himself. “Because Rose came back, there’s something… something we won’t do, and that is changing everything.”

“But how can I remember if it never happened?” Martha argued.

“You’re a time traveller, Martha,” Rose explained. “That… it doesn’t quite make you memory proof, like a Time Lord would be, but it means that if something happens to time while you’re travelling, you’ll be able to remember both the version you lived through, and the new version of reality.”

Martha nodded slowly. “I suppose that makes sense,” she said. Then she jumped to her feet. “And now I’m even more eager to get home, so I can figure out what else has changed.”

The Doctor darted over to the console and twirled around it, moving dials and shifting levers. “Well then! Next stop, London!” he crowed as he threw the dematerialisation lever.

Martha watched him, trying to pinpoint what was different in him. She’d seen the whole routine four times now, but this… Her eyes widened when she realised what it was—the smile on his face was real. The glow in his eyes was happiness, instead of mania.

The Doctor looked up from the controls several times as the TARDIS rocked through the Vortex, and each time, a daft little grin crossed his face when he saw Rose standing there. And Rose—she was holding onto the console, head thrown back in laughter, looking like she’d been born to travel on the TARDIS.

The landing was softer than Martha was used to, and she looked at the door, then back at the Doctor. “We’re here?” she double-checked.

“Yep!” He bounced on his toes. “Just twelve hours after we left. No time at all, really.”

Rose sauntered over and nudged him with her elbow. “And you’re sure it’s only been twelve hours this time?” she teased.

Martha looked at the couple—the Doctor with an aggrieved smile, Rose’s cheeky grin—and she shook her head. “I’m not going to ask,” she decided. Then she walked up the ramp, opened the door, and stepped into her flat.

Rose nudged the Doctor again, and after pouting for a moment, he followed Martha so he could give her a proper goodbye. The moment he left the TARDIS, he could feel the remnant of the abandoned timelines. He looked at the dark television, and a voice echoed back through time.

With the push of a single button, I will change what it means to be human.

Martha raised her eyebrows, and he shook his head quickly. Whatever he was seeing, it wouldn’t happen now. Rose’s return had changed things, even more than he’d expected.

Ignoring the future-that-wasn’t, he focused on the woman standing in front of him. How many times had she saved his life, in just a week? “Martha Jones, you’re a star,” he said warmly. Martha’s eyes lit up, and he opened his arms, offering a hug.

“I’m so glad Rose is back, Doctor,” Martha whispered as she squeezed him tight. “You deserve to be happy. Promise me you’ll be happy.”

The Doctor could feel his bondmate in the TARDIS waiting for him, and a bit more of his tension eased. “Oh, Martha,” he murmured. “Happy isn’t even the word for it.”

She stepped back, a smile on her face. “Good.”

The Doctor grinned, then pushed the TARDIS door open. “You have a fantastic life,” he ordered, then he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Rose was perched on the jump seat, swinging her legs slightly. The familiar sight made the Doctor’s hearts clench in his chest. He was afraid to move, lest the perfect image be just a mirage.

You’re home.

She hopped off the jump seat and threw the dematerialisation lever, and the Doctor let his weight shift from one leg to the other as they moved into the Vortex. Then he watched as Rose walked up the ramp to him, not stopping until she could put her hands over his hearts.

Her touch was so familiar, exactly like what he remembered, and the Doctor felt a few more of his worries chip away.

“I’m home,” she agreed as she slid her hands over his shoulders to link them behind his neck.

The Doctor rested his hands on her hips, pulling her close. “How long are you going to stay with me?”

Her lips curved up in a slow smile and the glow in her eyes was golden. “Forever,” she whispered, then she tugged him down for a kiss.

#ficandchips #dwinboxbuddies #starsandfairytales #legendslikestardust #doctorroseprompts #eight x rose #ten x rose #fic by Nancy #cq's fic: a strangely familiar touch #martha jones #reunion fic #i really loved writing this #it's a different kind of reunion than what i normally do #i hope you like it!

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