can't stop me now

2

hadn’t drawn these two in a while, had I

so, um, we definitely haven’t talked about the fact that bail was paid for jake and rosa. and jake is broke, so amy definitely dipped into her rainy day funds, stretching and budgeting to make bail for an accused armed robber. her paris money, her money for a splurge on some old books (or an expensive wedding dress), were paid to the city of new york to get her boyfriend out of jail. 

2

Unfinished painting of Minami……now time to go study ahhh

How Tolkien influenced my idea of writing

  • Maps. If your book hasn’t a map it’s not as good as it could really be
  • Elves are necessary
  • Invent at least a language or you are no-one
  • Spiders are the worst. If you want a monster and don’t know what, pick a giant horrific spider
  • Giant eagles are for Cool People. Anyone who ride a giant eagle is cool by default
  • The best dragons are the snarky dragons
  • Dwarf-elf friendship is the end game. If you succeed in recreate something that at least resembles Legolas and Gimli’s relationship you win
  • Friendship in general is, like, THE thing. Fill your book with friends
  • Healer warriors are the best warriors


Feel free to add

2

The FMA crossovers continue!!! I was thinking about how a Kamijirou confession would go down and Ed x Winry came to mind. 

[please do not repost onto other sites. reblogs are okay!]

8

Perhaps it is the will of the Force that the Jedi, and all your kind, perish! And I serve the will of the Force!

2

Before, she would have jumped at the sudden and unexpected pressure of someone’s hand on her waist, but nearly half a year in an 18th-century French court has taught Rose to adapt, if nothing else. (Her French is as abysmal as it ever was without the help of the TARDIS, but the court is graciously willing to overlook such things on behalf of the savior of their uncrowned queen.)

Still, Rose smiles as she dances, even if her partner can’t see it. “Someone’s awfully familiar today,” she teases (in mutilated French); probably it’s Henri, a little tipsy from the king’s finest wine, but he’s not half-bad to look at. “Feeling a bit grabby, are we?”

“Oh, you know me,” replies a soft voice behind her, in English, and it’s all Rose can do to stop herself tripping over her own feet. “I’m a hands-on learner.”

Rose’s heart leaps in her chest, hammering madly against her ribcage in time to the music and the steps of her feet below. Over a hundred days since she last heard that voice anywhere but her dreams; of course, she recognizes it instantly. Her grin is so wide now her face could almost split with the size of it. She squeezes her eyes shut, giving silent thanks to any gods that might be listening. <

(The impulse to stop in her tracks pulls at her, demanding her to spin and throw her arms around his neck and maybe never let go, but some part of her is afraid to—maybe she’s wrong, maybe it isn’t him, or it’s a dream, or if she looks at him, she’ll break the spell. So she keeps dancing.)

“And?” Rose prompts, insinuating her hand over his where it rests against her waist. “What have you learned?”

“That your French is atrocious.”

“Rude,” says Rose, but she laughs. She squeezes his other hand, the one leading them around the ballroom along with the rest of the courtiers. “It’s been five and a half months, and that’s all you’ve got to say to me?”

His grip on her waist tightens. “No, actually, it isn’t.”

“Aww, did you miss me?”

“Do you know the kind of trouble you could have gotten into?” he asks, his voice suddenly curt. “The damage you could have caused? Probably caused?”

His sharpness startles her, but Rose shrugs it off. “Don’t worry, I didn’t—”

“You have no idea what you did or didn’t do,” he hisses. “Weakening the integrity of this timeline, exposing everyone to the possibility of Reapers, compromising the safety of everyone here—”

“You mean Reinette,” Rose replies coolly.

“She’s part of everyone here, isn’t she? Or are you so thick that I have to spell that out for you, too?”

Rose laughs again, but the sound is shaky and thin this time, a scoff. “Why, hello, Doctor, it’s nice to see you too! Don’t ask about me, thanks, I’ve been doing just fine in the land of scratchy underwear and no plumbing.”

“I told you what would happen if that time window was smashed, Rose,” he continues as if he didn’t hear her; he’s so quiet Rose can barely hear him over the flutes and harpsichord and drums, but she can still make out the strain in his voice, the bite to it. “I was very explicit. I couldn’t have been clearer. So I’m struggling to understand—and that’s quite a feat, struggling to understand something with a brain as impressive as mine—why the hell you thought jumping through that window was a good idea.”

Twisting in his grasp, Rose cranes her neck to look at him, finally, and there he is, all furrowed brow and tight mouth and eyes glittering with anger, and god, if she wasn’t so irritated with him right now, she just might kiss him.

“That’s what you were going to do, isn’t it?” she asks instead.

***

Next: Part II | Part III