#which is really really hard for sprig

[sidetongue]

Harold was on cloud nine today

[jellymish-art]

IT IS HAPPENING LADS!! SAM VIMES COSPLAY!!

I've dreamed of doing this for years and now that I've finally gained the Secret Knowledge of Foam Armour, I can finally go for it!

Jokes aside, I asked a couple of cosplay pros for advice at the last con and they were all super nice & answered every single one of my questions, in detail!

So far the breastplate, backplate and badge are done and I'm super happy. Detailed process under the cut!

How it went:

First, the pattern! Shoutout to the guys at cosplay-atelier for the recommendation. They pointed me to kamuicosplay, because they sell downloadable patterns for all sorts of things, including armour. Which is how I got to this:

Downloaded two of their breastplate patterns, smooshed them together and altered them to fit my body and the look I wanted. I did all of that with thick paper. Then I took it apart again and traced the bits onto 5mm EVA foam that I ordered from a cosplay store.

Then I numbered and cut all the pieces and glued them together! I used hot glue, cause it's more accessible and less intimidating for me than other types of glue. It isn't as strong as other recommended glues, but works fine for me. (used many pointers from this tutorial.)

However, safety point: I've seen it recommended to wear breathing protection when heating up foam in any way whatsoever, and that includes hot glue, heat shaping and heat sealing. Use a respirator or other breathing protection that is made specifically for chemical fumes & work outside or in a well ventilated area (i.e. open ALL the windows)! Ask at your local hardware store if you're unsure.

PSA over. Now to the painting stage!

The scratches I made with my fingernails and the tip of a pair of scissors. XD Then I covered everything in 2 layers of black flexipaint (which is a water-based flexible paint/primer that works really well on foam). After that, I worked with regular artist's acrylic paint. Above you can see the first layer being applied with dry-brushing.

Then I went over it with a dark brown wash to make it look dirty (mix black & brown acrylic paint with water & apply liberally)

Then I went over it again with bronze by applying the paint with my fingers, wearing a plastic glove. (Same tutorial as before.) making sure I don't get any paint in the scratches. And then finally, another dark brown wash to make it all look nicely weathered. I did accidentally remove some paint by going over it too often with the wash, but it wasn't too hard to fix.

And this is the costume test, after adding velcro! It's really easy to put on and take off. I'm a bit worried about the velcro on the sides, but I can always add straps on the outside if it doesn't hold up.

Next was the badge:

I referenced a pin badge that came out as a collectible a few years ago (sadly out of stock), cause I love the design! Carved in the letters and lines by drawing on it with a ballpoint pen and applying a lot of pressure. Then painted it with the same process as the breastplate, just with copper instead of bronze.

And just for funsies: here's the back of the breastplate in all its glorious mess XD

On the right side you can see how I attached the badge: By cutting a slit through the breastplate and making a velcro attachment. That way I can remove the badge and add, say, a sprig of lilac, should my fancy take me there. Reason being that our biggest con is in May.

If you know, you know.

Annnnd here it is; the finished breastplate with badge:

I'm honestly having the time of my life. It's a super fun project and I am very excited to see how it turns out! I'm already working on the cape with a good friend of mine (I despise sewing, she loves it XD) and have materials on the way to make some bits of chainmail.

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door ~ Part 1

A Constantine x Reader fic based on this imagine.

Summary: John Constantine has a crush on you. He wasn’t going to do anything about it though, until you strong arm him into coming over for dinner. Little do you know, this paints a target on your back for the local vampire coven… (I had to write something sweet for my mental health y'all 😆) Rating: Explicit, NSFW, but no dead doves...😮

You are the very archetype of The Girl Next Door. Well, literally. John Constantine lives in 202, and you in 204. You share a wall, and occasionally, he sort of smiles at you when you meet in the hall.

Like tonight, as your arms are full of groceries, returning home after work. You don’t know what he does exactly, but you assume it’s the same for him, though he is only clutching a brown bag that very poorly disguises a bottle of scotch.

“Hi, John,” you say brightly over a proud sprig of celery sticking out of your bag. It’s almost a running joke between the two of you, your sunny brightness aimed at him like a weapon.

There’s a long pause, like always, before he finally answers reluctantly in his deep monotone, “Hi, y/n. Bye, y/n.”

Before you can engage him any further he disappears into his apartment, closing the door hard behind him, the slam in the air like an exclamation point. You stare for a moment at the space where he’d just been, tall, handsome, his suit rumpled, that tie half undone around his neck. He looked like he’d had a rough day, whatever he does.

He dresses like a professional something, but imagining that man as a door to door salesman with his attitude is laughable, and so is the thought of him working amicably in an office setting.

You go inside and put away your groceries, then spread out what you need to make dinner. It’s Friday night, and you’ve had a long week too. You are making comfort food—it’s kind of a shame to eat it alone.

Half an hour later, while the sauce simmers, you find you just can’t stop thinking about that man next door. He seems lonely, every time you see him. There is something about him that just makes you want to wrap him up in a hug.

He’d probably push you off if you tried, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t need a hug.

The thing is…you have this thing. He pretends like you annoy him, but sometimes in the hall, or down in the lobby when you’re collecting your mail, you catch him looking at you when he thinks you’re not looking. And the look on his face is never exactly lecherous, like you’re used to with most men who eye-fuck you on the street. His look is more…just…lost, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

You’re sure he’ll say no, but your feet seem to carry you of their own accord, when you find yourself at his door, knocking loudly.

Some time passes and you hear him grumbling on the other side before he jerks open the portal just a crack. “Yeah?”

“I’m making my Nonna’s meatballs and marinara for dinner.”

“Good for you?”

“From scratch.”

“Sounds time consuming.”

“Want to join me?”

There is a very long pause, in which he just looks at you. You can tell he’s at least one drink in already; you smell the fumes on his breath. And maybe it’s stupid, and you’re asking for trouble you don’t need, but the thought that that will be this man’s only dinner squeezes your heart.

Finally, he answers with a question. “Why?”

“Why not?”

This, amusingly, seems to actually flummox him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. In the end he narrows his eyes at you, (those lovely brown eyes, you can’t help but notice), like you’re trying to trick him into something truly heinous.

It’s…kind of funny, truth be told, and you can’t stop yourself from grinning. “Come on. I know you can smell it.” Your door is wide open.

“Maybe I don’t like Italian food.”

“Everyone likes Italian food.”

“Maybe you’re a terrible cook.”

“Only one way to find out.”

He actually growls a little, which for some reason gives you a thrill to the base of your spine.  

You really need to get back to stir the sauce. You didn’t anticipate getting this far in the conversation (argument?) with him, honestly.

“Well, door’s open,” you tell him, turning to go. You throw one last little come-hither look over your shoulder, to find he is definitely staring at your ass. Or, glaring, more like.

Maybe you have a screw loose, but you find this adorable.

You go back to your sauce, and lose yourself in the preparation of the other ingredients, watching the pasta to make sure it doesn’t boil over, checking that the meatballs aren’t burning. (Your oven is a dinosaur from the 1970s, and sometimes the temp spikes for no reason).

You are about to drain the pasta, when you find a tall, rumpled man standing beside your rickety thrift store table, looking a bit confused as to how he’d ended up there. He looks so big in your shoebox of an apartment, and if you’re being honest, maybe there’s a little bit of lust tied up with your desire to mother this man.

You offer him a welcoming smile, and for a moment, you swear he looks like he’s drowning.

“Glad you could make it,” you say somewhat teasingly.

“Can I…help?” He says the last word like it’s a completely alien thing to him.

“I’ve pretty much got it under control…” you say, which is mostly true. You peruse the sparse offerings of your 3 slot wine rack, picking a $6 bottle of Chilean red blend. “Want to open this?” The face he makes looking down at the decidedly weaker-than-whiskey beverage is almost comical, but he takes the corkscrew from you as you transfer the meal to serving bowls and put glasses of water on the table.

He removes his suit jacket at the table, rolling his sleeves up over muscular forearms that are, if you’re being honest, totally distracting. After you sit down you fill your plates, and the first few minutes of the meal goes by in semi-awkward silence.

Surprisingly, it’s John who speaks first. “This is really good,” he admits begrudgingly, and you utterly fail to damper your I-told-you-so smile.

“Thanks.”

You make halting small talk. You get the feeling he doesn’t chat much with anyone, of his own free will. When you ask him how his week was, his simple answer is, “Hell.”

You have no idea he’s being literal.

You ask him what he does, and he tells you he’s a sort of private detective, and he can’t really talk about it. He asks what you do, more to get the conversation off of him than anything. You let it go, for now, telling him that you’re a receptionist at an office building for a mega corporation downtown.

“Fitting,” he grumbles, you think because of your innate cheerfulness.

You feel the urge to tell him that half the time it’s just a thing you wear like armor—but you don’t know each other that well yet.

As you loosen up a little with food and more wine, he slowly asks more questions about you, where you’re from, what do you do in your free time, and maybe it’s stupid, but you feel like he’s actually kind of interested in your answers.

You enlist him to help you with the dishes, and as you stand together at the sink you bump him playfully with your hip. He peers down at you, his dark hair in his eyes. He is so tall, and there is a hint of a smile on his lips now. For him, it’s like a full-on toothy grin, and it doesn’t fail to quicken your heart in your chest.

Constantine can’t help but feel…puzzled, by you. Yes, you’re his cute neighbor, who teasingly likes to hail him in the hallway. And maybe he does look forward to the way your eyes sparkle, when he begrudgingly acknowledges you before retreating to the safety of the quiet solitude of his apartment. But you are so…nice. He can just tell, and he has no idea what a girl like you might want with a degenerate demon hunter like him. There are enough assholes in L.A. who would be happy to take you out. Why would you waste your time chasing him down?

And there is that smaller nagging voice in the back of his head. You are damned, and you don’t deserve her.

Fuck if it doesn’t make him want to touch you even more.

Later, he will look back on this as a moment of weakness. You, looking up at him with your big eyes, like you're old friends. You made him feel, for a fleeting moment, like he wasn't some doomed asshole with nothing to live for. Like he was an actual person. A man who could matter, to someone. Maybe even to you.

When you splash him with a flick of dishwater after he insults your favorite TV show he narrows his eyes down at you, and you get the fluttery feeling that he might like to eat you a moment before he cups your cheek in his big hand and catches your lips in a kiss. It’s everything you’d hoped for, even if you never actually expected it to really happen. Maybe the wine helped? Or maybe…he likes you? Luckily you get over your surprise, standing on tiptoe to meet him, looping your arms around his neck.

You yip with surprise when suddenly he lifts you to sit on the sink, pulling you close as the kiss deepens. “Was getting a crick in my neck…”

Your answering laugh is shaky at best. “Sorry.”

“Is this why you invited me over?”

“Sort of?”

He lifts an eyebrow at that, waiting for further explanation. You reach up to toy with his collar, tracing the line of his loosened tie, totally distracted by the shape of his collarbone and what’s bared of his neck. This man has a jawline that looks like it was sculpted from stone. There’s no shortage of beautiful people in L.A., of course, but you’ve never met anyone quite like him. He doesn’t seem vain, an oddity in this town, but underneath his rumpled suit this man definitely has the physique of a movie star. You try not to dwell on how odd it is, that he would choose to spend his Friday night with you.

“I mean, I’m definitely not complaining,” you offer with a sly little smile.

However, his answering expression is nothing less than stern.

“I’m warning you now, sweetheart. I’m not boyfriend material, and I’m not going to be your project.”

Even if both of those things may have crossed your mind, your thoughts are too hazy with lust from his lips on yours. Maybe he’s a grouch…but he’s a great kisser.

“Okay.”

“Good.”

He kisses you again, and you melt even more under his exacting touch. Those mitts for hands make you feel small, and you arch against him as they travel the ladder of your ribcage to your spine.

The wine was good, but you know you are mostly drunk on him.

Then he is lifting you again, like you weigh nothing, carrying you to the couch. You settle down into the worn vintage cushions and make-out like teenagers, all lips and teeth and pawing hands.

You’re the one who actually initiates something further, pulling off your shirt, and John blinks as he takes in the swathes of your bare skin. He glares at your lacy bra like it owes him money, and you can’t help but laugh breathily. You haven’t felt thishappy in a long time, truth be told.

“Something funny?” he asks, nipping at your neck. With a flick of his fingers your bra falls away, and your breasts are in his hands, and you forget how to speak intelligibly. With his lips on your nipples you manage to loosen his tie without strangling him, unbuttoning his shirt with an increasing desperation. You sigh when at last the bare skin of your torsos is pressed together, his weight pressing you down into the couch.

It occurs to you, how small your couch is, and this man is definitely over six feet tall. “Would you prefer…the bed?” you ask between kisses.

“Up to you.”

You nod, but find you can’t really stop kissing him long enough to move. You can feel the impressive length of him through his pants and yours, aligned with your center and you dry grind, thinking even that is wonderful. He, however, lets out a frustrated growl, and pulls you to your feet again.

Dizzy with desire, you lead him by the hand to your bedroom, and you make it there eventually between kisses and shedding the rest of your clothing. His thick fingers between your legs are a marvel. “So fucking wet for me,” he groans, and it’s too embarrassing to admit, but sometimes after seeing him in the hallway you’ve fantasized about something like this going down, and it always leaves you soaked.

“I…like you,” you admit, moaning as a second finger finds its way inside you, his thumb circling your clit.

“I still don’t get that,” he admits, but kisses you hard before you really have a chance to answer. It would be a little too crazy, to tell him right now that you’ve always just felt pulled towards him, like the Universe was giving you a nudge any time you saw him. He’d laugh at you, or he’d leave, and either of those at this point would be unbearable.

You are close already under his masterful touch, and you whine even as you flex your hips, all your muscles tightening in anticipation.

“Don’t make me cum yet,” you beg. “I want you.”

He groans in response to that, desperately pawing through the pockets of his pants on the floor for a condom. You watch with stars in your eyes, propped on your elbows as he rips open the packet and rolls it on that impressive length, your lip between your teeth. You feel empty while looking at him like this, longing to be filled to the brim.

There is a moment of raw eye contact between you that sears your soul, as he pulls you to the edge of the bed with those large hands on your thighs. For a fleeting second he looks almost vulnerable. It’s there and gone like a ripple in a pool, then his thick tip is at your entrance, and he is slowly pushing himself inside you.

It’s better than you ever dreamed, and you arch against him, moaning as he works inside.

“Fuck you are tight,” he pants in your ear, your walls clenching around him, seeming to fight him even as they crave the relief of his big cock stretching you out. You breathe deeply, easing him in. When at last he bottoms out inside you, your head rocks back behind your shoulders, blissed out.

“God, you feel good.”

This man actually snorts at the comment, though his voice is pure gravel, rough with need. “He wouldn't appreciate you saying it about me.”

Your laugh is half moan. 

“What, are you on a first name basis?”

“Yeah, sort of.”

You're not sure what to make of that, and you're too cock drunk to even begin to reason it out.

He can tell you're a nice girl. Or at least, that's his perception of you. So he doesn’t bend you at impossible angles or whisper filthy things in your ear. Really, there's no time for it. Just pure vanilla missionary in your sweet little snatch is more than enough to slake his need tonight. He fucks you on your back, his thumb on your clit as he glides in and out of your tight little pussy, your legs wrapped around his narrow hips.

Your pleasure builds in the cradle of your hips, wound so tight you feel like you'll either die, or fly. Usually...alright, it's never like this for you the first time with someone. There's always fumbling, and awkwardness, and half the time, if you're honest, a faked orgasm because you're too shy or too embarrassed to ask for what you really need from a new partner, afraid he’ll think you’re too much trouble. 

Well, that is not what is happening tonight. Tonight, John is taking care of you, and you can hardly believe your luck. 

“You gonna cum for me, baby?”

“Yeah.” Your reply is breathy, and you almost laugh just for the pure, unexpected joy you feel in that moment. “Oh, John...” Your ability to say real words escapes you as your body erupts with scintillating pleasure spreading through your loins. You actually scream, and the fierce clench of your cunt around him brings him too. He loses himself with a groan, his face buried in the curve of your shoulder as he shudders against you.

Afterwards, you are laying against his broad chest, his heartbeat a steady drum in your ear. You don't know it, but this is not something John Constantine usually does. Snuggling. But you are sweet and soft in his arms, and he can't quite bring himself to vacate the premises just yet. In fact, he's so comfortable that he dozes, and you follow close behind him.

In the middle of the night you wake to kisses on your neck and caresses down your curvy side. You sigh, arching into him. You feel his manhood at the seam of your buttocks, his thick head kissing your hole.

“Fuck. Sorry,” he whispers with a shuddering sigh, rolling over to reach for his pants again. How many condoms did he bring? The fact that he's not careless with you, even in the sleepy haze of the early morning second round, is incredibly endearing to you. How many times have you had to insist, and been made to feel like an uncool bitch for not wanting to risk pregnancy or disease in the heat of the moment?

Maybe it's utterly insane, but you're half in love already as he hauls you on top of him, his cock freshly capped with a new Trojan Magnum.

You are still drenched from earlier, and it's no problem to impale yourself upon him.

In the blue dark of early morning your eyes meet his, and again you sense that fleeting vulnerability before he distracts you with that clever fucking thumb finding your sensitive bud. He works you just right as you ride his beautiful dick with your back arched taut as a bow, his other hand toying with your nipple. It makes you cum in record time, so quickly it's almost embarrassing, though he doesn’t seem to mind. Within a minute he's followed along with you, his big hands digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he reaches his own release. Your name on his lips raises gooseflesh all over your body, as though your lovemaking has invoked something powerful, something binding.

You collapse against his chest, and the both of you nearly fall asleep again, with him still inside you. 

“Let me get this thing off,” he requests gently, and with a plaintive little groan you roll off of him, curling in at his side. He knots the condom before throwing it in the general direction of the bin. You are both too tired to care if it actually hit home. 

Again, you snuggle close and the two of you doze tangled together until morning light streams through the window. 

You wake to kisses on your forehead this time. It's a miracle you rouse. You're a heavy sleeper—and he worked you out. 

“I have to go, honey.” 

“Want breakfast?” you murmur, half asleep.

“Yeah, but I can’t. Rain check?”

“Okay.”

Through half lidded eyes you watch as he gets dressed, half way, at least. A good portion of his clothes are still strewn around the living room.

My god, what a beautiful specimen of manhood you bagged last night. Nonna would be proud. She was an appreciator of male beauty, and if you told her that her special recipe had gotten you the best sex of your life with the handsome boy next door she would have cackled with delight.

“See you soon?” you dare ask as he buttons his pants. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, after a pause, bending down to kiss you one more time, with tongue this round. 

“Careful mister, or you'll start round three.”

“Jesus, woman,” he teases with that heartbreaking almost-smile. “You've drained me dry.” 

You look him over appraisingly.

“Doubt it.” 

He huffs with laughter, shaking his head. 

“Bye, y/n.”

You sigh. 

“Bye, John.”

With a surprisingly heavy heart, you watch the best lay of your life slip out the door. You really hope you'll get to do this again, and not just go back to awkward acknowledgements in the hallway.

***

Maybe John Constantine had told you he’s not boyfriend material.

But earlier that day, while he was having a smoke out on the sidewalk, he found himself looking over at the wares of a flower vendor and wondering if you would like them. He didn’t buy any, of course.

He wasn’t a total sap.

But it’s possible as he scales the stairs to his apartment, there’s a lightness in his heart as he thinks of you, and the possibility of seeing you in the hallway.

That's when he finds your door ajar, and your apartment ransacked, and a note in red ink on the table addressed to him.

If you want to see your girlfriend alive again, come to this address.

It’s a place in L.A. that’s deep in vampire territory, and something black and heavy weighs like a stone in the pit of John’s stomach. He’d deported a few big players of the local coven not too long ago, and he’d figured the Master would want revenge, but this?

Fucking diabolical—and just their style.

Goddamn vampires.

Without a moment to lose, he goes to his apartment to get his kit, praying he’s not too late to save you.  

[hubbvrd]

#38 with Joe Burrow

Under the mistletoe ❄️ Joe Burrow

summary — joe and your first kiss under the mistletoe

pairing — joe x y/n

words — 777

note — thanks for your request. I hope you like it!!🧡

CHRISTMAS MUSIC WAS playing softly from the radio. Joe's right hand was on your thigh while he held the steering wheel with his left hand and drove you through the crowded traffic to your parents' house.

This year was the first Christmas Joe and you had spent together, so you were quite excited and your excitement was quite obvious, so Joe's thumb gently stroked your thigh and made you relax a little.

"Did I drive past the house?" Joe asked into the silence as he drove through the street where your parents' house was located.

All the houses on this street were decorated with countless lights and Christmas figures, so even though you had grown up on the street, it was hard for you to see your house among all the colorful lights.

"No, it's over there." You pointed your finger at your parents' house.

Shortly afterwards, Joe pulls up to the side of the road in front of your house, as the driveway is already fully parked with countless cars belonging to your siblings.

"Here we are" Joe announces as you both get out of the car and he casually throws the large bag with the presents over his shoulder.

You start to knead your hands nervously.

Joe had already seen your family a few times before, but since you were already pretty nervous at Christmas in general, your nervousness literally doubled.

"Everything okay?" Joe asked as he put his hand on your back and stroked it gently.

"hold my hand, babe, i'm nervous."

Smiling, Joe grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers, which made you relax a little as Joe's closeness and the warmth he radiated next to you.

For a few seconds, Joe just stood next to you, giving you some time to catch your breath, until he gently squeezed your hand to indicate that you were going to the house.

From a distance you could hear the voices of your family and the shrieks of your nieces and nephews, which made you relax a little more.

You couldn't wait to go inside, smell the delicious food, hug your family and then throw yourself into all the hustle and bustle.

Before Joe could even begin to press the doorbell, the door was ripped open and you both found yourselves in the arms of your mother, who was wearing a chef's apron and was no doubt totally stressed about the food.

"Merry Christmas to you both. Come on in!" she babbles and shortly afterwards starts to engage Joe in conversation as she pushes you inside and closes the door.

"Wow, that smells great Mrs. y/l/n," Joe begins to enthuse and gives your mother his best smile.

"Thank you, Joe. But you're supposed to call me y/m/n" she reprimands him with a grin as she rakes him and leads him into the kitchen.

You trot after them, where your father and two brothers are already waiting, whom you also pull into a hug and wish them a Merry Christmas.

But there's not much time for a conversation, because your mother and father are already literally pushing you and Joe into the living room, where a small sprig of mistletoe hangs over the door, which has been part of the family tradition for years.

"Come on, y/n. You're finally one of those who have to kiss their partner under the mistletoe," your eldest brother urges you, standing there with your little niece in his arms and holding his cell phone out to capture the moment.

"I'm sorry," you whisper wordlessly to Joe, who just shrugs his shoulders with a grin and pulls you by the hips towards him under the mistletoe.

He doesn't really seem to mind this tradition and all the attention from your family, who are watching you very closely. But why should he?

After all, he was quarterback of the Bengals and played in front of thousands of spectators.

"Well, let's make your family happy, shall we?" he whispers softly in your ear as your hands find their place on the back of his neck and interlock.

"We should, because otherwise we won't get Christmas dinner," you whisper back with a grin as Joe pulls you a little closer to him and his lips land on yours.

Whistling and clapping can be heard around you, causing your cheeks to turn a shade of red.

But even though you don't usually like kissing Joe in public in front of others, you enjoy this moment with Joe under the mistletoe to the full and hope that this is not the last kiss with Joe under the mistletoe, but one of many.

[decafbat]

i really like how much depth your art has, do you think you could show how you break down bodies when sketching if that makes sense? it’s something i struggle with a lot in my art! ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

ok apologies in advance, this is probably going to be a really long and tangential rant about art that may or may not actually help you in learning how to construct bodies. im just gonna put it under a cut to save everyone from seeing this huge text wall.

i dont think its gonna be possible for you to replicate my methods here, because theyre mostly just really specific shortcuts for finding certain proportions and reference points for anatomy, which i'm fairly versed in, but not as much as i'd like to be. the shortcuts you'll need will be different from mine. im glad you think my art has depth, that is something i am trying to seek very intentionally right now, and i dont think im even close to the depth of form i am actually aiming for. so like. this makes making a tutorial kind of inherently hard. nevertheless, i threw this quick sketch together after like 3 failed attempts. (i was doing those attempts digitally, ended up giving up on that and going back to traditional because its what im most comfortable with rn)

i didnt get all the steps i took to get here because scanning that much would be cumbersome but ill try to explain how i got here. i start with the head almost every time.

i use a lot of symbolic/graphic shapes when drawing heads and dont stick to using forms very often besides the circle at the center of the head, which i use as the base to form these graphic shapes around. think of it like "wrapping" the ball in various textures and masses. the eyes are usually "textured" onto the head, notice how the her left eye looks narrower then her right. of course i try to make sure her bangs sit along the curve of the sphere and her ears look like they sit on opposite sides of the head. its easy to forget that part, making the head look unsymmetrical. the particular masses of leica's head would be her snout, which is just a curve extended slightly outside the diameter of the ball, and her hair, which are two strange organic shapes that are quite hard to draw, two hair sprig anime antennae things (forgive me, i forgot the word for them,) and the back of the head, which i usually need to extend slightly. its a little too extended here, needs more on the top, i fix this in the final pass. this was a quick sketch, so i didnt focus too hard on the forms of the head beyond the most essential ones for her design, but i sometimes highlight the form of cheeks with curved hatching, or try to make the eyes appear more sunken-in as they are on human faces. i dont know how to proportion the neck and torso correctly until i draw the head, so i always do it first. next, i did the torso.

so heres why i said that you probably wont be able to replicate this approach. you do kind of just have to practice anatomy, i cant just make it make sense because im not very good at explaining this stuff, but ill try to go through what i did here. so, i generally use simplified bone shapes to find proportions and reference points, as well as more complicated shapes like those of elbows and knees. i try to study fairly often because im not satisfied with here im at with this stuff yet. of course, i dont think i'll ever be. so i'll usually start with the ribcage, add a shoulderblade out the back to find the shoulder, the armbones come out of that, the bone in the upper arm connects to the ulna with a sort of three-pronged attachment, one big knurl in the middle, which forms the thrust of the elbow, two little ones on the side. i think those are part of the ulna but i dont remember. see, you dont really have to know what exactly they do as long as you know what they look like. the ulna does some goofy rotation shit i dont understand, connects to the wrist, and then we have a hand, which, i mean, im not good enough at hands to even be telling you how to do it, but i just have a big squarish mass and some little hotdog fingers coming out of that. you can see on her left hand that ill have a big circle forming the the area on the hand where the thumb attaches... theres more depth to the hands, i think you can easily find better tutorials then i could offer. anyway, under the ribcage theres the pelvis, represented with a box. ill get into that when i talk about the legs. i wanna briefly talk about the way i add the flesh and fat to the bones.

so, i really can't give a comprehensive crash course on anatomy, but i can point you towards the morpho series, which is where i get most of this stuff from. you can get very far with the volumes Simplified Forms, Fat and Skin, and Skeleton and Bone Reference Points. moving on, i just kind of have a feel for where the masses attach by now. the important thing to remember when drawing fat characters like this is that the fat should "hang" from the bones and flesh, drooping down slightly. leicas fat hangs substantially, so she's not very wide despite her weight. this is important to her character design i feel. i almost always draw characters naked first when doing serious drawings because it will come in handy knowing where the forms of the body are when i add the clothing. by focusing on the way her body looks naked, i can modify the impression of those forms when adding clothes, and when i add them later on in this drawing, leica will take on the distinctive boxy look i try to draw her with.

if you look at the arm, youll see that the place the line of bone sits is very high compared to the whole mass of the arm, the flesh and fat of the arm "hang" from the bone, and then the upper arm squishes against the bent forearm too. even if the anatomy in the arm is indistinct, it can still look convincing when the forms act realistically against one another. the elbow has much less fat connected to it, so its more bony then the rest. this isnt actually consistent on all people so like, think about that kind of thing when designing characters, like i was talking about before, fat can sit in infinite different ways. maybe if i was doing a more objective anatomy lesson i'd draw cath, because i do have a sort of vague understanding of muscle placement that doesnt come through here, but probably would if i was drawing a scrawnier character. let me know if you want that.

a word on the breasts too: they hang a bit lower then you'd expect, keep that in mind. the attachment point is also angled, as the line shows. the line starts roughly in the middle of the torso and ends around the armpit, but the form of the breast can go underneath the armpit or even connect around the fold of fat in the back. many things to think about. i love boob shapes. ok lets finally get on with it and talk about the legs.

so, the really specific shape of the pelvis doesnt matter that much unless youre drawing a really thin character, so its just a box here. out from the sides of the pelvis, extending out more then you'd expect, is the femur, which ends in a similar joint to the arm. this shape helps me figure out the form of the knee. two masses on each side with a bunch of complex and weirdly shaped bones forming the kneecap, which i have omitted because i dont yet know shit enough to include them. i am learning though. so, obviously the feet are just scribbles here because im just gonna put her feet in socks anyway. you really dont have to do more then you have to. a few tips i can offer here, the butt should hang a bit too when drawing fat characters, i think the butt is supposed to start just below the pelvis if i remember, but take that with a grain of salt. i also didnt really do that here but its hard to tell because she's facing mostly forward. again, i dont think i can really communicate what's going on here. morpho has a lot of great drawings explaining the shapes and muscles of the legs, all things i might focus on more when drawing a scrawnier character. for this case, i regrettably don't go too hard on the legs. also i should note that legs would usually be much longer, leica is really short so ive exaggerated the proportions to communicate that. i may change my mind on that front in the future and give her more grounded proportions. the important thing to remember with legs is just getting a nice hierarchy of forms going. bigger thigh going into smaller calf going into smaller foot. it mostly comes automatically now.

i added the clothing, shaped up her head a bit, added a bit of fur. i put her in her classic outfit, just a sweater and jeans. i enjoy the big thick folds that come out of these clothes, and big areas of white space too. its nice. i try my best to form all the folds around the forms of the body i drew earlier. thats one case where i really really have no idea what im doing and could never explain it in words. its just some fun intuitive play with loops and lines. this is at around the stage for a sketch where i'd do inks, or if it was going to be a finished pencil drawing i'd erase out parts piece by piece and replace them with nicer and more defined lines and tones.

i guess that's all i can offer , i hope that halped.

[hardly-an-escape]

growth | Buck/Tommy | 1236 words | rated T

tags: Tommy Kinard character study, gardening

A few weeks before Tommy picked up Howie's call and ended up flying four members of his former station into a hurricane – and incidentally inviting the beautiful hurricane that was Evan Buckley into his life – he'd planted an herb garden.

In retrospect, he wasn't even sure why he'd done it. He wasn't much of a gardener, and neither was he a particularly gifted home chef. His backyard looked nice, but it wasn't exactly artistic; there were no carefully-curated flower beds or beautiful raised plots overflowing with homegrown vegetables. Likewise, when he cooked at home, he stuck to the same handful of fairly utilitarian meals: spaghetti with turkey meatballs and sauce from a jar, or brown rice and baked salmon and green beans. Not that his food wouldn't have benefited from fresh herbs — it just didn't need it.

And yet, for some reason, he got off a shift and twenty minutes later found himself wandering the lumber aisles in the Lowe's near his house, 48 hours off ahead of him and a random home improvement magazine clutched in one hand.

Tommy's house was a little two bedroom bungalow, which the realtor had called "cozy" and Tommy would have described as "cramped" if he wasn't kind of a minimalist by nature (and more interested in the detached garage). The kitchen was small but functional, and located at the back of the house, which faced south. It had a big window over the sink, and a back door that opened out onto a small cedar deck that had been Tommy's first DIY project after he bought the place.

It wasn't the best deck in the world. It sloped a little to one side, and he'd applied the finish a little unevenly. But he was still proud of it.

He chose similar cedar boards for the herb garden. Built a counter kind of thing, a little taller than elbow height, with spaces where planters could nestle in and a shelf below for storage. He set it on the deck right below the kitchen window, thinking that once the plants got tall enough, he'd be able to see them through the window, maybe while he was doing dishes or something.

Maybe the green would be inspiring. Maybe he'd go out to the deck and trim a few sprigs of something to throw on his salmon. Add a little flavor to his life.

Tommy snorted to himself. Add a little flavor to his life. Who did he think he was? And yet...

He built the framework. Bought some terracotta planters. Went to a garden store the next day, carefully chose a big bag of potting soil and some seedlings and organic fertilizer and, a little self-consciously, a small blue enamelware watering can. He thought it might look nice on the storage shelf beneath the planters.

He started with just the basics, things that sounded familiar, like he might actually use them sometime: basil, mint, cilantro, oregano. Rosemary, because it reminded him of his mother.

Against all odds, the herb garden thrived. Tommy did discover the hard way that it really needed to be watered every day, when he came home from three OT shifts in a row to find his basil plants more than a little blasted by the LA sun. He rigged up a slightly janky DIY self-watering system with an old wine bottle, and that seemed to do the trick.

He still didn't really know what he was doing. Or why he was doing it. But he liked his herbs. It felt good to go out on the deck in the morning, and drink his coffee while he plucked the few weeds that appeared, and made sure the soil was properly moisturized.

Then Howie called.

Then Evan somersaulted into his life and looked at Tommy with stars in his eyes and sprained his best friend's ankle. Evan let Tommy kiss him in his kitchen, out of the blue, two fingers digging into the stubble on his chin. Evan asked him out for coffee and asked him for a second chance and asked him to a wedding.

Three weeks to the day after their disappointing first date, Evan came over to Tommy's house for the first time. The plan was that they would make dinner together and then walk down to the park in Tommy's neighborhood that was showing movies every Friday and Saturday, projecting them on a big inflatable screen.

He honestly wasn't sure whether they would make it to the movie this time, either – but now it was more because they seemed to have a hard time keeping their hands off one another whenever they were within arms' reach. He'd let the evening unspool in his head before Evan ever arrived: a nice dinner, and then dessert on the deck, and conversation, and then, when the mosquitos got too bad, a glass of wine in the living room, lights low, hands wandering. He didn’t really care about the movie.

They hadn't used the word "boyfriend," yet. But Tommy knew what it meant, if you asked a man to come over and cook you dinner at 7:00 PM in your own house.

So, Evan arrived, that first time. Tommy gave him the nickel tour, not that there was much to see – the living room, with its sparse bookshelf and much more robust DVD shelf; the office-slash-guest room; the master bedroom and the painfully obviously freshly-made bed; the garage and the car lift and Muay Thai mats. Evan was polite, complimentary, interested in the renovations Tommy had made during the five years he’d owned the place.

It wasn’t until they walked out on the deck that he’d shown real excitement.

“Look at this!” he cried, gravitating toward Tommy’s weird little herb garden like a puppy to a chew toy. “You didn’t tell me about this.”

“It’s – it’s nothing much,” Tommy said awkwardly. “Just something new I built a couple weeks ago. I don’t even know what to do with them, really.”

“You built this?” Evan said, enchanted, and Tommy watched him run his fingers along the sanded cedar frame, and bury his face in the fragrant plants, and rub one basil leaf gently between two fingertips and bring his fingers to his nose, breathing deep and turning to Tommy with a smile on his face. “This is incredible.”

“You think?” said Tommy, uncertain.

“Yeah, I think,” said Evan, beaming, and crossed the deck in two long strides and caught Tommy by the waist and kissed him, once, twice: brief, deep kisses that knocked Tommy’s whole world slightly off center. “Your oregano is gorgeous, it’s going to be absolutely perfect in the sauce.”

And then he whirled away, back inside, rattling around Tommy’s kitchen as if he belonged there, searching out pots and cutting boards and strainers. Tommy stood for a long moment in the middle of his own deck, slightly poleaxed, listening to Evan’s clatter with one ear and the burgeoning backyard crickets with the other, smelling the wafting scent of his herbs and the neighbors’ honeysuckle vines.

Oh, he thought. This is why I wanted an herb garden.

Because on some level, in some remote corner of his brain, he had known that Evan was waiting for him, a storm system just over the horizon. He’d needed to be ready for this. For making pasta sauce with fresh oregano, and kissing on the back deck, and growing something real.

read on AO3 >>>

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Raised in Amphibia AU Sasha is the one who remembers the most from their past before arriving to Amphibia. For one, she remembers the name of their world - Earth - and their species - human. She remembers she once had a mom and dad and that they fought a lot. She remembers how she got there. She found a box while playing in the park. She even remembers her last name, Waybright, and she's the only one of the trio who still goes by it. She does not, however, remember there were two other little girls with her the day she traveled to another world.

Anne has a vague understanding that she comes from a different land populated by people of her species, though she doesn't know what she is, where this land is or that it's in a whole different world altogether. She assumes she comes from some mysterious continent far beyond the sea. She doesn't remember how she got there, doesn't remember her last name (nor her second name, Savisa), and doesn't remember her parents, but she knows she had parents, once. One of the only things that makes her feel less like a Plantar is being unable to share her siblings' grief over their parents. She might be Sprig and Polly's sister and Hop Pop's granddaughter, but those two frogs that died a few years before she showed up weren't her parents. She feels bad for her family, but she doesn't miss them the same way they do. Whenever a birthday comes around, or the anniversary of their deaths, she hides in her room in the basement and tries really really hard to remember her biological parents. She looks in the mirror and tries to imagine what their feautures might have been like based on her own. She digs up her old kid clothes with which she first arrived in Wartwood to try to find some kind of clue - a handsewn patch, a tag, anything that could tell her something about the family that still waited for her to come back from another world.

Marcy doesn't remember anything. She doesn't even remember she's human, or that Andrias isn't her biological father. Sasha is quite shocked to learn that when they eventually meet.

[adobe-outdesign]

since the altador cup is going on this month, can you review the yooyu petpet?

I've mentioned this before on here, but one of the few good things about the Altador Cup is the worldbuilding behind the idea of Yooyuball—it's a game where you carry a ball in a sling and try to throw it into a goal, except the ball is an armadillo and your feelings don't matter. I think it's particularly neat how the Yooyu's colour affects the way it behaves during the game as well, like how the fire Yooyu moves faster or the Darigan Yooyu hates you specifically. The ball design also lends itself to some other games as well, like Crisis Courier.

Visually, the design is pretty good. It's basically a six-pointed star with a long tail and floppy ears, with a light yellow inside color and a hard brown shell of sorts on the outside. You can easily look at it and figure out how it rolls into a ball, which is an important mechanical feature, and it's fairly cute as well.

Favorite Colours:

Christmas: A Yooyu not actually used in the AC itself, the Christmas Yooyu takes their natural segments and turns them into some nice peppermint striping, with a complimentary green outside and a sprig of holly for good measure. It's pretty straightforward, but it works.

Darigan: Yes we all hate this thing in-game, but you gotta admit, the design's kind of a banger. I like the black and purple contrast with red eyes that work really well with the Yooyu's default solid-colored ones. Things like the spikes on the tail and the wings feel like fairly natural extensions of the original design as well.

Faerie: The faerie Yooyu has a bunch of nice subtle touches to it, like how the wings looks similar to its limbs, or how the ears curl in a more than usual. The pink and blue palette works well and the stripes on the outside add just the right amount of flair.

BONUS: The Tyrannian Yooyu is similar to the default colour, but uses a slightly lighter cream color for the underside and adds features like fur, spikes, and fangs. It looks good all around and really feels like it works well with the Yooyu's design.

Least Favorite Colour:

Maraquan: Listen, Yooyus are effectively just six-pointed stars with a face, but there's something truly disturbing about taking a regular six-limbed starfish and slapping a Yooyu face directly in the middle that just plunges it straight into the depths of the uncanny valley. Maybe if they had stuck closer to the regular anatomy and just added starfish touches it wouldn't feel quite so weird.

[quillpokebiology]

Sprigatito Facts

(Art by Mpupa on Deviantart)

-The scientific name for Sprigatito is "Catus Magus" which translates to "Kitten magician"

-Baby Sprigatito are called sprigs

-Weed made from Sprigatito is surprisingly common in Paldea (uhh, weed isn't as dangerous as people make it out but most people on Rotomblr are minors and it really isn't safe to smoke until 25, so be safe)

-Originally, Sprigatito was bred only for the royal family of Paldea (which is why their fur pattern has the fleur de lis on it). But the Sprigatio there had so many kittens that they decided to release them into the wild. The overabundance caused mass poaching to happen, making them very rare to find in the wild today

-Because of their over abundance, and them evolving to survive the harsher climates, members of the Sprigatito line were seen as bad luck during this time period

-In the wild, Sprigatito live in meadows, fields, forests, and plains

-Despite common stereotype, Sprigatito actually enjoy the rain

-Female Sprigatito are called Sprigatita

-Sprigatito fur becomes drier in autumn

(Art by Megumi Mizutani)

-If Sprigatito can't find any berries, they'll instead bask in sunlight to get their energy

-Unlike a lot of catmon, Sprigatio can handle foods like grapes and almonds

-Members of the Sprigatito line can't taste sweets very well

-Despite being great climbers, they can't climb face-down trees because their paws face forwards instead of backward

-Unlike Meowscarada, Sprigatio (and Floragato) prefer to stay low to the ground instead of hiding in trees

-While Sprigatio and the rest of its line are considered diurnal, it's hard to accurately say since they kinda sleep whenever they need (we should all be like Sprigatito)

-The hatch time for most Sprigatito is in the spring

Floragato Facts and Meowscarada Facts

[kharmii]

I've got to write an appreciation post of my new favorite thing. I recently watched Black Clover E.138 'In Zara's Footsteps' which was a Zora Ideale themed episode that made me love him more.

-So it starts out a flashback into Zora's childhood. His now deceased father gets a sprig of white gladiolus from a meek flower seller who gives them away for free because Zara is his hero. He tells his equally meek son that he was partial to the fragrance of those particular flowers.

Fast forward to the present. Zora is lounging seductively in a tree dressed like a dirty whore. He looks somewhat like Zagred and eerily like a zoroark gijinka from pokemon. (HAHAHAHA...don't go there in that fandom, yeesh...)

He says sarcastically, "Yeah.....like I have time for crap like that... I don't need to train with them. I didn't join the Black Bulls to make new friends and play around."

(The teeth look real, and his jaw looks unhinged. There's some not spoken of f-up somewhere in this design)

He goes off on a solo trip to really put his nose to the grindstone. They have to fight wars with demons and sheeit, so he has to really focus on his training. He dons a full-body-covering nondescript robe to cover his tiddies so random creepos with freaky tastes don't flash cash at him again. Zora is actually a sensitive introvert, so he doesn't appreciate that sort of attention. For some odd reason, he decided to put some unnecessary accessory on his robe that looks vaguely like a collar and leash. Whatever dude.....

This comes on the heels of the Gordon themed episode. Gordon is a freaky soft-spoken guy who can't handle being alone. He needs the constant company and emotional support of his friends. Zora, otoh, claims he doesn't need friends. He probably doesn't mean that 100%, but he's the type of person who thrives on solitude and needs a lot of alone time to recharge his social batteries.

Zora stops at his village to visit his dad's grave and leave his favorite flowers. Viewer sees a lot of good shots of his sad tired looking eyes and can tell his flippant and douchey manner of speech is hiding a deep sadness and weariness.

He's surprised to find out someone else already left those same flowers recently, and he talks about how his dad was the pride of their village because he was the first commoner to become a magic knight. Now there are more of them, thanks to Yami, but back then, it was unheard of.

Walking through a forest, he happens on some kid training fairly decent water magic without a grimoire. He says, "This kid's got potential. Well, good luck with that..." and prepares to walk away unseen, but the kid gets accosted by some visiting nobility.

Zora ends up chasing them off with a stink bug, but the kid gets a parting shot at them. Zora admonishes him for going against three guys. The kid's dad shows up and asks him why he looks upset. At no point does he assume the freaky looking guy with sharp teeth and tattered robe might be the cause. Good thing, because he would have been wrong. Zora doesn't scare the children.

The kid rants about how he wishes he had a different family that wasn't poor, and how he wished his dad was more like Zara so he could train to be a magic knight. Zora is perturbed, but the dad says he's right and starts denigrating their family for the hard times they were going through.

Zora wordlessly picks the child up and hauls him off in a fireman's carry while the dad is in no way panicked. Zora must have that sort of presence. He dumps the kid in front of his dad's grave and tells him to call him, "Awesome Mask Guy" and he will call him "Snot-nosed Shrimp". He talks about how his dad never complained about anything and never had a harsh word to say about anybody. The kid expresses resentment that he is aiming too high.

The sentiment brings back a memory of when more normal looking Child Zora told his dad he was aiming too high because commoners couldn't become Magic Knights. His dad kept trying over and over and failing. The dad replied that he may have failed the Magic Knights exam more times than he can remember, but he didn't think he set his sights on something unachievable. He only tells him he will join the magic knights someday because he honestly believes it will happen one day. -And it eventually did happen.

-So he tells the kid that if he told the other kids who accosted him that he would be a magic knight someday with a straight face, then he must believe he can do it. If that was the case, then he wasn't aiming too high. He said his dad used to talk like that too.

Zora shows the kid the doll his dad gave him, and the kid starts ripping on him asking if the doll is supposed to be him? Zora replies that the doll is Zora the Supermage the Mysterious Herald of Justice. He may talk a lot of smack but he's a good man. He fights evil from the shadows. The kid keeps ripping on him and saying he's not a toddler. He says it's a lame back story and asks him if he's srsly into dolls? He asks him how old he is?

Zora gets all dreamy and tells the kid that (doll) Zora was the son of a peasant, just like him, but he wasn't impressed by nobles or royalty because deep down he knew there was something he could do that they couldn't. Kid was intrigued wondering what Zora would have that rich people didn't have. Zora replied he wondered what that could be? If the kid wanted to be a magic knight someday, he'd better figure it out.

Zora is asleep in a tree late afternoon, presumably after a day of really getting some hard core training in. Since his magic deals with complex traps, he probably has to sit around doing deep thinking 90% of the time, and only 10% of the time is execution.

The kid is out practicing magic nearby when the visiting nobles attack him, this time armed with a powerful magic item. Luckily, Zora was able to step in to assist with his Uno Reverse Card Trap before the kid is incinerated. He sends the fire back, but only in a harmless way that gives the kids a scare. They drop the magic item, and the kid picks it up.

Kid comes back with his dad who accuses them of stealing the magic item. They attack with fire power, but the other dad surprises them with strong water magic. The accuser threatens to call the magic knights. That's when Zora shows up in his usual costume of tiddies out and pants cut so low one can practically see the top of his junk.

Zora talks about how he witnessed the whole thing earlier, and the son was the one who stole the magic item looking for a fight. He tells the guy he's a shitty father and doesn't deserve the magic item. The two guys run off humiliated, probably because they thought they were showed up not only by a commoner, but a commoner who is also a male prostitute who services clients with a magic knight fetish.

The kid and dad relate how they took the magic knights exam several times and failed, but they knew that their hero Zara also tried and failed several times. That inspired them to not give up. The kid seems to come to the realization who Zora really is, even though he doesn't say it out loud. He says he believes he knows what Zora the Supermage has that the nobility doesn't, and he also doesn't say out loud what it is. Then he apologizes to his dad for saying bad things about their family.

As Zora leaves, the kid thanks him and says he must really be Zora the Supermage. Zora replies that he's just trying to be a good mage, and then he encourages him to keep trying and leaves with a stink bug prank with the worst hrrderking look on his face.

On the way out, Zora says something interesting. He thinks about Yuno and Asta and how they always make the assertion they are going to become the next Wizard King. He says out loud, "The only reason those two can say that all the time is because they truly believe they can do it. You just wait and see, Dad. I'll make it to that zero stage everybody's been talking about lately, and I'll start by whipping my sorry squad mates into shape."

I was like, "AHAHAHAHA!!!! You'd better deliver, Mr. Background Character!"

Level zero is like Wizard King level ability in that world, -like Julius Novachrono who can control time is probably that level- although I don't think Zora is the type who'd want to be the actual Wizard King. He has the attitude like being a magic knight is more than the costume and recognition. Maybe he'd want to be the first commoner who'd reach that level of ability? Add to that, but Zora is probably the weakest in the squad, like Julian said when he encountered Zara, his magic wasn't that strong, but he was able to execute it in complicated and well-thought-out ways. Zora probably takes after his dad in that way. He's not a 'push past your limits' type of guy like Asta. He's careful. He has to think things through and only act if he feels like he's 100% going to succeed.

[foolishlovers]

CHRISTMAS FIC RECS: Below you can find a quick list of all the Good Omens Christmas fics I’ve read this year so far.

I thought some of you might want to indulge in some cosy reading as well!

You can request more fic recs here.

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree How Terrified Your Branches by Supergeek21 (1.2k, G)

As their first Christmas in their cottage approaches Aziraphale asks Crowley if he wants to get a proper Christmas tree. He's surprised to learn the demon already has one.

Christmas Angels by TawnyOwl95 (1.8k, T)

It’s starting to look a lot like Christmas in London and that means there are lots of angels about. Aziraphale does not handle this well.

A half-penny will do by penny_archer (2k, G)

It’s Christmas in Victorian England and Crowley is trying not-very-hard to hide the fact that he’s been giving pickpocketing lessons to the disenfranchised youth of London. Oh, and he has a cute gift for Aziraphale that’s totally not a big deal.

The Nice List by GaryOldman (2k, T)

When watching Christmas movies with Anathema, Crowley can't work out why no one else seems to believe in Santa when he's been receiving gifts for years.

A Christmas Miracle by Santillatron (3k, M)

Crowley gets irritated at couples kissing under a holly arch. One thing leads to another, and a sprig of mistletoe makes a timely appearance.

Well, it's bad luck not to, isn't it?

Taking the Cake by Caedmon (3K, T)

Aziraphale has noticed his handsome neighbor, but hasn't had an excuse (or the nerve) to talk to him. He gets his chance, though, when a bakery delivers a package to the wrong door a few days before Christmas and his neighbor comes knocking.

And All Was For An Apple by Lindewen (3k, T)

The second winter after the Apocalypse didn't happen, Crowley and Aziraphale are out for some sightseeing and Christmas shopping along the south coast, simply because they can. But Crowley also has a secret errand to run--and, as it turns out, he can't always balance very well in his human form...

All The Lights That Light The Way by FeralTuxedo (8k, E)

On the run from a disastrous work Christmas party, Anthony Crowley encounters an angel singing in the streets of Soho.

Of Love and Lattes by edna_blackadder (9k, G)

A.J. Crowley, part time barista at Madame Tracy's Coffee Shoppe, only wants one thing for Christmas, which is to get through the joyous season without his head exploding. His coworkers are already not helping, and then the proprietor of the bookshop across the street develops an unfortunate addiction to seasonal espresso beverages.

Secret Santa by AppleSeeds (18k, T)

On the advice of his therapist, Crowley signs up to be a 'Secret Santa', an anonymous gift-giver for a community initiative aiming to bring some Christmas joy into the lives of people going through a hard time. He's partnered with Aziraphale, a librarian who has lost his home and bookshop in a fire. Through the power of Christmas Magic, Crowley ends up meeting Aziraphale in person when he takes his nephew to the library and is immediately smitten. He becomes determined to use his expertise and influence to give Aziraphale the only Christmas present that could really make a difference, but are some things too important to be kept secret?

muddle through somehow by curtaincall (27k, T)

Aziraphale Fell runs a successful food blog, Celestial Comestibles, where he shares mouthwatering recipes and heartwarming stories about his happy domestic life in a cottage with his husband and son. As promotion for his upcoming cookbook, his publishers run a contest: one lucky winner will get to spend Christmas with Aziraphale and his family.

What the publishers don't know is that the real Aziraphale Fell is a single city-dweller. And if he wants to keep up his happily married persona, he'll have to acquire a cottage, husband, and son before Christmas.

As it happens, his friend and neighbor Anthony Crowley has his nephew staying with him for the holidays. One fake marriage proposal later, and everything seems tickety-boo--as long as Aziraphale can keep from developing inconveniently real feelings for his pretend husband...

First Class (Hons) Christmas, University of Tadfield. by heloluv (41k, M)

Dr. A.Z. Fell is a renowned literature tutor at the prestigious University of Tadfield. December is upon the University, and Dr. Fell is leading the Christmas Charity Drive. He needs volunteers.

Dr. A.J. Crowley is a skilled plant ecologist who recently began his tenure at UoT. He can't stand Christmas, and nothing at all could ever possibly convince him to partake in "festivities". Until a certain literary expert catches his eye.

A Christmas and New Years fic, in which Aziraphale teaches Crowley how to enjoy the most wonderful time of the year.

bonus: The Christmas fic I wrote this year

The Anon Before Christmas by foolishlovers (58k, M)

When Crowley’s friend, blogging buddy and business partner Anathema announces her annual Secret Santa Exchange on Tumblr, she is very adamant Crowley should join this year.

The old-fashioned (but admittedly compassionate) man he gets assigned to send anonymous messages to every day until Christmas sounds awfully similar to the fussy bookseller that his friends adore, yet Crowley tries to avoid at all costs.

But surely his friends would have mentioned if Aziraphale had taken an interest in the Bad Omens fandom as well… right?

Or: An Enemies to Lovers Secret Santa Tumblr AU.

[serpentface]

@mouseymagus

(response to tags where I mention Brakul making a crab soup)

IRL I USED:

3x snow crab clusters

1.5 onions

1 large habanero

Uncounted, substantial amount of garlic cloves

Thyme

Fennel Seeds

Cumin Seeds

About 1/4th of a lemongrass sprig

A lot of turmeric powder

Bit of fish sauce

like 2 sazon packets (mostly for MSG)

A substantial amount of sweet soy sauce later added to taste (used it as a balance because I went too hard on the turmeric+cumin, though some would have been used either way)

A lot of plain yogurt

Spinach

[No measurements used for basically anything I do things entirely to taste when making soup and adjust as needed]

In-universe version would have an overall similar tasting mix of herbs and spices. He also has access to meatier crab, and would be making larger batches. Two types of fish sauce would have been used, one that's intense and provides most of the salt content, and one that is very sweet and mixed with date wine (the sweet soy sauce was a substitute for this, some kind of sweet port wine mixed with fish sauce would probably be more accurate).

Vegetables are all finely chopped (outside of the lemongrass) as they will be eaten in the final product. Everything except the yogurt and spinach is combined with water and allowed to cook for several hours to make the broth.

The broth should be very strong, somewhat excessive on the spices because it's going to be balanced out with yogurt. Once it reaches a good point, the heat should be turned low and the soup allowed to cool before the yogurt is stirred in, which should prevent curdling. This should be A LOT of yogurt, it's the key ingredient. Cream could also be used for a sweeter result. The color should end up very light golden-yellow.

Continue cooking on low heat for a while after adding the yogurt (I let it go like 1.5 hours). You don't want it to boil again but want the yogurt-broth to thoroughly penetrate the crabmeat. Once that's done, you can either strain it to remove fennel/cumin seeds and the cooked down vegetables (and replace them with freshly chopped ones), or let it be and to eat as is. Either way this is the point where you add the spinach and let it cook for a while longer, until the vegetables are soft.

Resulting soup should be a thick broth that’s notably spicy, mildly sweet, and the bitterness of the spices should be subtle. Should have a distinct turmeric flavor with the cumin, thyme, and fennel being subtler. You can open up the crab legs and add the meat into the soup, or eat out of them on the side (ideally with bread to scoop up any remaining liquid, or over grain)

In context, Brakul really likes to cook and is like, Okay at it. He's got a good sense for flavoring and a very, very bad sense for timing. His soups are notably quite good because they are the one thing that is virtually impossible to burn. This crab soup is his favorite thing to make, it's kind of a fusion between familiar recipes he would have had back home (crayfish broth boils with herbs and chili-spiced yogurt) and flavoring more favorable to the Wardi palate (especially cumin and imported turmeric). He's bad at integrating the yogurt at the proper heat though so it usually ends up curdled.

Here’s photos of the process for the lore friendly curdled version

[lulu2992]

From the Inquisitor to the Baptist: The Evolution of John Seed

When Far Cry 5 came out, on March 27, 2018, players got to finally meet John Seed “in person” and see his final design. That said, it’s still possible to stumble upon early versions of him in the game and its files.

All the sources and references indicated by the superscript numbers will be given in the last post.

Part 2: Physical appearance, clothes, and tattoos (Far Cry 5)

Here is John Seed, the Baptist, as he appears in Far Cry 5 most of the time:

His coat is now decorated with planes, but it still has scales on the buttons. He has a two-tone blue shirt, a vest (it seems, heavily inspired by a piece from the D&G Spring/Summer 2010 menswear collection²⁷), dark grey jeans with a brown belt and an “EG” belt buckle, dark grey, laced, probably leather boots, a watch, an Eden’s Gate earring, blue sunglasses (on his head), his bunker key around his neck, a SLOTH scar on his chest, and a lot of tattoos²⁸:

Among them, in addition to the ones previously mentioned in Part 1 (the letters and symbols on his fingers, the goat, the snake, the flames, the scales, and the angelic figure with the dove in the wreath), we find:

On his right arm,

a nautical star (can represent guidance) and diamonds/jewels (can represent beauty and power)

the number seven in tally marks (also tattooed on his left little finger), probably for the seven deadly sins

a fly (can represent determination)

a sword/dagger (can represent protection or sacrifice)

an anchor (can represent God and groundedness) with another snake and pair of scales

a crescent moon (can represent purity or transition, a new beginning)

a peacock feather (the peacock is used to symbolize Pride)

the word SLOTH crossed out

a flaming horseshoe, possibly to symbolize the Horsemen (and fire) of the Apocalypse.

On his left arm,

a revolver, maybe the last vestige of the gun he was holding in the first promotional pictures and in Absolution

an eagle, which looks like it’s about to catch the snake, maybe to symbolize Eden’s Gate (the cult used to be represented by an eagle, as seen in the early piece of concept art of the Seed family¹), “killing” sins (here, Envy)

an ax (can represent strength and fearlessness)

the plane pattern that is now also on his coat

a religious cross

a chair and the words “SIT DOWN & WE TALK”, most likely a reference to the fact he’s the Project’s Confessor

a holy figure with a sickle attached to their hand and what looks like sprigs of wheat, the latter probably symbolizing the Reaping and the fact John is in charge of it

another cross with “EG” in the middle, as well as the Greek letters alpha (A) and omega (ω), “the beginning and the end” in the Book of Revelation in the Bible

a bird, maybe a swallow (can represent freedom and resilience).

Most of his tattoos seem to be religious symbols, but depending on who you ask, tattoos can have very different, sometimes deeply personal meanings, so it’s difficult to know exactly what they’re supposed to represent. Some of the significations I’ve just mentioned in the list are very generic and can be found on many websites.

The crossed-out word SLOTH is particularly interesting to me because John has a similar scar on his chest, and “Acedia” (Sloth) is missing from the list tattooed on his left hand. It seems he really hates this sin²⁹…

But funnily enough, in the game, John doesn’t always look like this.

In the bedroom of the Holmes Residence, on Joseph’s Island, there are pictures of the Seed family on the wall, and John appears in two of them³⁰:

In the first one, he’s wearing his sunglasses, and his coat appears to have EG logos on it instead of planes. In the other picture, his coat might also be the “old” one, but it’s hard to tell.

In the family portrait, also visible in the Holmes Residence³¹, it’s his early character model (no glasses, no tattoos, “EG” pattern on the coat), the one we see in the Prima Games guide, who is in the picture. His siblings look slightly different as well.

In Dutch’s bunker, there also are pictures (and short descriptions) of the Father and his Heralds. Once again, it’s John’s early model who seems to be in the photo³².

In the “Power of Yes” poster, he’s wearing his sunglasses³²:

On the “We love you and we will take you” billboards³², John’s picture is a mixture of several designs. His coat is the final one, with planes, but his face appears to belong to his early model because his sunglasses are nowhere to be found and I think his beard looks slightly longer. He has the SLOTH scar and bunker key, but the letters on his fingers are S, G, and G for Sloth and Gluttony/Greed. The tattoo on his hand is hard to see, but it doesn’t seem to be the nautical star and diamonds.

In the menu, more specifically in the Journal, where missions are listed, we can once again see John’s early model (no glasses, no tattoos), like in this image that illustrates the mission “The Confession”³³:

I’ve previously mentioned an early version of the “You have been Marked” broadcast (in IGN’s video²¹), but an even earlier version of it can be seen in Far Cry Arcade. If you add the “Counter Cafeteria” (Far Cry 5 > Objects > Residential > Kitchen) to your map in the Arcade Editor, you can see this³⁴:

The Eden’s Gate cross that appears at the beginning is also a very early design, the one featured in what could be the first artwork of the Seed family¹.

A picture of John’s old 3D model was also in the deleted in-game encyclopedia (still partially available in the files)³⁵. His sunglasses, key, scar, and tattoos are missing, and he has the EG coat.

In the loading screens for the Holland Valley region, although John looks a little more realistic than his in-game model, his design appears to be the same³⁶:

As for his in-game portrait and character icon, they feature his final design as well:

But there also exists a very early version of this portrait in the files. John appears to be the character on the left, once again wearing sunglasses³⁷:

But surprisingly, the release of Far Cry 5 didn’t mark the end of the changes regarding John’s appearance. After the game came out, his model was slightly altered one last time.

If you ever took a close look at his shoes in the first few months that followed the release of Far Cry 5, you may have noticed that there was blood on them. This blood stain is also visible in the “Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse” official artwork²³:

But when I looked at his shoes again in the Arcade Editor five months later, the blood was mysteriously gone…

I have no idea why it was removed, but I like that it was because John’s evolution, from the game’s earliest stages of development to its final version, was not just physical; his personality, methods, and morals were also modified. The blood disappearing from his shoes is a subtle and maybe meaningless change, but I think it perfectly illustrates how his violence was gradually toned down during the development of Far Cry 5.

To be continued…

[f1crecs]

Fic Rec List - Carlos/Charles (Jealousy)

if your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let me know and we will remove it immediately, no questions asked. we have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop us a message🤍

have a pairing you want me to do next? please read the faqs and then head to the inbox.

don’t forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments

hello, anon. thank you for your ask. we hope you enjoy some delicious charlos jealousy! 🤍

tempest by stivesofmarch (ryeflower) | M | 2.4k

Charles has some feelings about Carlos' relationship with Lando. I really loved this one! I love this characterisation of Charles - it really highlights his stubborn and passionate nature! I love this author's writing style, it flows beautifully.

'There is a hard bit of muscle at Carlos’ shoulder that Charles particularly likes. Just that one little coveted spot, right above the blade, to the left of the shoulder bone. And beneath the sheath of his sweat-slicked suit, Charles knows that it is that exact spot which has been branded by one of his little hickeys.'

hall of mirrors by @lafaerie | M | 14.5k

This is a two-parter, one side each of Charles POV and Carlos POV, a character and psychological study of what it means to be in love with someone you are in competition with, and yet also have to work closely with. I liked the push and pull of their own emotions, and the push and pull between Charles and Carlos here is delicious, as is the surreality of the religious and dream imagery. There is a recurrent theme of Charles being above the clouds, inspired by the quote he made about "not thinking" in the car.

'Charles is dreaming.He’s not flying, he’s firmly grounded here. He squints his eyes, trying to block out the glare of the sun. It’s unbearably hot and there’s sand blowing everywhere. It’s almost reminiscent of being back in the Qatari desert. But that race is over, Charles tries to remind himself. They’re not due back until next December. When it will hopefully be cooler. Charles holds his arms out in front of him and realizes that he’s wearing his race suit. No wonder he’s so hot. It’s stifling. He’s about to undo the snap of his collar at his neck when he notices someone else in the dream. It’s Carlos walking across the desert landscape towards him. He has one arm behind his back, his other arm swinging at his side. Carlos is wearing his race suit, just like Charles. Two splashes of red paint standing out against the horizon. Two Roman Cardinals, meeting in the courtyard outside of St. Peter’s, whispering to each other before mass. But they are not at St. Peter’s. They’re not in Italy. They’re in Charles’ dream. They are in the desert. Carlos comes to a stop right in front of him, still with one arm behind his back. He’s holding the knife, Charles thinks. He takes a deep breath in, trying to brace himself. In the next minute, Carlos will surely have the cutting edge of the knife pressed right up against his throat. Carlos swings his arm around to reveal something. Charles blinks. It’s not the knife at all. Carlos is holding a bouquet of wildflowers. It’s a sweeping bouquet of wild lavender mixed with green sprigs of thyme and rosemary, the smell of it heady and aromatic. He’s offering the bouquet to Charles. “But, Carlos,” Charles sputters, “these flowers do not grow in the desert.” Carlos looks around in the dream as though it’s only just dawning on him that they’re in the desert. Like he thought they were in Italy. He thought they were in the courtyard at St. Peter’s. “I brought the flowers for you,” is all Carlos says. Charles accepts the bouquet with both hands, being careful not to crush any of the flowers. When Charles looks up again, Carlos is gone. Charles stands there — alone in the desert — holding a bouquet of wildflowers.

nsfw: Internal Mechanics by venerat | E | 15.4k

A misunderstanding at their shared gym has Carlos spiralling. I love everything this author writes, and this is no exception! Carlos is so gone for Charles in this story, and it is so much fun to read. One thing I particularly liked about this one was the dialogue - it was perfect: funny, hot, emotional. Amazing!!

'Now it is not so much butterflies when he sees Charles; nothing so sudden or churning. Now it’s just warmth. A tingle on the back of his neck. An urge to touch, jittering his hands. An inability to keep from smiling, whenever he’s with Charles.'

nsfw: Thin White Lines by bloodmoonforme | E | 23k

This fic plays on the idea of devotion and to whom devotion falls. The dynamic here feels well-constructed and present while retaining the AU.

'As suddenly as he came close, he's pulling away, watching Charles' alarmed eyes carefully. His are brown, Charles distantly registers. The corner of his mouth quirks upwards in a smirk. "I'll see you around, Mr. Duchamps". And just like that he's suddenly gone, blending into the crowd. Charles' brain has turned to static. "Charles? Charles! What the hell was that?", he hears Pierre exclaim. A sudden cold chill washes through Charles as he recovers from the shock. When he buries his hand in his pocket, he finds it empty.'

nsfw: All The King's Horses by @7msc | E | 38.5k

Carlos knows he doesn't have the killer instinct Charles has, and struggles to reconcile that aspect of his innate nature with his career goals. This is a deep, thoughtful, insightful character study, examining the mental and emotional realities of this elite sport and the sacrifices it demands - whether they be corporeal or intangible, such as innate aspects of one's own self. It asks the question - is carving these softer parts of ourselves away truly worth it, or even possible?

'This time, Charles finally looked at Carlos. The lights hit his face from below, making him look almost eerie. His eyes were too green, his nose was too pointy, and his mouth was too well-shaped. Charles looked like a character from a fairytale. He laughed with mirth. “Oh, I promise to give you a run for your money, then.” Carlos felt his own mouth curling into a smirk without his consent. “I will hold you to that.” That night, in bed and with the AC set to a nice 18ºC, Carlos thought that Charles had looked beautiful with the fire of battle in his eyes. A hunter disguised as prey.'

nsfw: Head over heels by @betzykielberg | ? | 44k

A lawyers AU wherein Charles has a very pragmatic view of sex and Carlos is a romantic and they meet in the courtroom. I love the way the author creates tension between the main characters, ranging from professional competiveness to sexual tension. The Carlos in this fic is a total dreamboat with a soft squishy heart and Charles has trust issues and has never been in love, and the emotional rollercoaster of them getting together is lovely. As far as the theme goes there is a fair bit of traditional jealousy in this but for me the most delicious jealousy is that of Charles wanting Carlos to have sex with him and being denied, imagining who else could be warming his bed.

'“To me, sex without love is”, he hesitates for a second as if trying to find the right words, “it’s like watching a movie without the sound, you can still see the images moving and you get the gist of what’s going on, but you’re just missing this major component to complete it”, he uses his hands to signal something big and Charles is hit with a wave of curiosity. What was it like to sleep with someone he was truly in love with? More importantly, what was it like to sleep with a Carlos Sainz that was truly in love with you?'

this list was compiled by @ocontraire, @frickinsweet, @lydia-petze & @boxboxbrioche 🤍

[bingoboingobongo]

taken by surprise

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley (Call of Duty) x Reader

Type: Fluff, drabble

Summary: You ask Ghost to help you decorate, and he surprises you.

Warnings: Explicit language, kissing

A/N: hard man being soft trope my beloved.

alright so imagine this. it's early december at the base; the weather is bordering on frosty, the last leaves are falling, and that crisp winter smell is filling the air. the team's recently returned from a recon mission, which usually means a short break for you guys as the analysts look over the information you guys brought back. the initial day of rest where everyone goes out for drinks and then immediately passes out is over, which means there isn't much to do besides train, and decorate, of course.

you start the morning off by going to ghost's room, an excited smile on your face as you knock on the door. it takes a while before you hear the sound of feet shuffling, and when ghost opens the door, he's wearing his trademark mask, minus the eyeblack.

"jesus christ, kid," he groans, squinting at you, "why the fuck are you waking me up this early?"

you smile sweetly at him, and he can feel his annoyance subsiding. "wanna help me decorate the base?" you ask.

he stares at you like you're crazy for a moment, but you know better than to get intimidated, so you keep smiling at him. "sure," he finally said with a sigh, "give me a second."

"perfect," you say, clapping your hands together. "hurry up, i'll go warm up the car."

it's not long until the two of you are running around stores, looking for ornaments, lights, garland, and of course, a tree. you really wanted to get a real one this year, but there's not any farms nearby and besides, you didn't feel like going through the hassle of bringing it home.

ghost's been acting pretty nonchalant about all of this, but every once in a while his mask slips and you can tell he cares about this. for example, you were looking at some string lights to hang along the mantle above the stockings. the lights were a really tacky magenta, and then all of a sudden, you heard him behind you, telling you to "not buy them because they'll clash with the red stockings."

honestly you never really planned on buying the magenta lights, you were just looking at the pricing, but the fact that he noticed you looking at them, and had the foresight to realize they would clash with the stockings surprised you. frankly, before then you didn't even think he knew what the concept of colors clashing was.

but that wasn't the only time he surprised you. it was after you guys had returned from shopping; the two of you were in the common area setting up the tree. you were decorating the front with ornaments when you realized you were starting to run low. no problem, you would just decorate the back a little less. but ghost stopped you and insisted that you save some ornaments to decorate the back of the tree, because "you can't just leave half of the tree undecorated."

but sometime in the late afternoon, ghost gets called to price's office and you lose your best assistant. you tried asking soap to help you, but he kept getting distracted or messing up your directions, so you went off to find ghost.

you see him walking down a hall, so you call out his name and chase after him. he waits for you to catch up, before continuing to walk. when you reach the end of the hallway though, he let's out a soft "fuck" and reaches up to rub his head. the two of you look up to see what he hit, and that's when you see it: a sprig of mistletoe.

your eyes fall to stare at his, your lips slightly parted. ghost thinks you look so pretty like this; he wishes he could take a picture. he let's his eyes flicker down to your mouth, noticing the way you bite your bottom lip nervously. "did you put this here?" he asks, his voice low.

"no, did you?"

he shakes his head. your heart pounds in your chest as you stare at him, and you can't help but hope that he wants to kiss you.

"ah well, it's a dumb tradition anyways," he says, and you can feel your face fall.

ghost notices, and it catches him off guard. were you disappointed that he didn't kiss you? he didn't think you would be, after all he didn't think you liked him. but the way you deflated when he said that has him questioning everything, and the way your eyes keep flickering to his lips has to be sign you want this as bad as he does, right?

he sees you lick your lips and then it's like the dam bursts. "fucking hell," he groans, lifting his mask and pressing his lips to yours in one fluid movement.

he can tell he took you by surprise by the way you stiffened at first, but once you register what's happening you relax, closing your eyes and kissing him back. he wants to kiss you more, to press you against the wall and leave marks on your neck, but then he hears the heavy stomping of soap's boots coming around the corner.

ghost pulls away from you, admiring the way your eyes are wide and your lips are red. he smirks at you before pulling his mask back down, right as soap arrives.

"woah," soap says, his voice teasing, "am i interrupting something?"

"that's enough, mactavish," ghost says, rolling his eyes, shooting you a glance, and you can see the grin under his mask.

[idledreams4]

Run In With The Law

Pairing: Nolanverse!Jonathan Crane x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence

Description: Bane has taken over the city, giving you a chance to move up a little in the criminal world. It wasn't too long before you heard about some trials happening, sentencing hearings really, for the corrupt corporate assholes who'd made your life a living hell. Out of curiosity you decide to head down to City Hall and see what's going on.

Words: 1,793

Read it on Ao3 or keep reading here :)

For someone like you, this new Gotham was a paradise, not so much a prison. You didn't have much growing up, and sometimes had to steal to get by. It didn't stop as you got older though, it actually got worse. You made a living for yourself in the shady parts of the city. You got caught once, served a few weeks for petty theft, really wasn't a big deal to you. Now that Bane had taken over the city and brought it to anarchy however, you could live like a queen. Your name had been well enough known in the underworld that you mostly get left alone, and anyone stupid and/or ballsy enough to try and mess with you was lucky if they left your new penthouse any way other than over the balcony railing. It wasn't too long before you heard about some trials happening, sentencing hearings really, for the corrupt corporate assholes who'd made your life a living hell. Naturally, you decide to check it out, you imagine it will be quite satisfying watching them beg for mercy. So you make your way downtown and follow the crowds of people.

It's far from a proper court, a single chair sat before a massive tower of desks, mobs of people on either side. Atop the massive safety hazard, toweri g over everything else in the room, sat a man that could only be the judge. He looked rather familiar, where had you seen that devilishly handsome face before? That's it! He was a psychologist at the Arkham Asylum, Doctor Crane. You only saw him briefly while you were locked up. Headed to assess some other inmate to see if they were crazy enough for the insanity plea. He looked good though, even if he was hard to see it was impossible to deny that.

So you spent the day hanging around, a few of the men actually ended up choosing death over exile, which you found interesting. You had your fun, and in the evening you decide to head to you favorite bar. It had been taken over by one of Gotham's crime syndicates at the start of all this, but they didn't mind a pretty girl coming around every now and then so long as you didn't start trouble.

"What'll it be tonight Miss y/l/n? The regular?" The bartender asked, flashing you a broken smile.

"I'm thinking we spice it up tonight Tony, surprise me." You were pretty good pals with Anthony, he grew up down the street from you. Always getting into mischief together. You helped eachother out in the bad times, when you could afford to at least, and when you couldn't you'd always make up for it.

"And for you, y/n/n it's on the house." He sets a glass in front of you. Much prettier than usual, a nice glass with a bright orange cocktail that reminds you of the sunset, it's garnished with a slice of lime, a sprig of mint, and a cherry floating in the glass.

"Rum Sunset. Thought I'd being a bit of brightness to your day"

"Well thank you, you didn't have to do all this. At least let me pay you." You would feel bad for just taking this for free, but he refuses. At last you give in and try it. Despite its looks it's actually very simple, spiced rum and some orange juice, a bit of grenadine for the colour. It's as warm as it's name suggests. Anthony catches you up on some , and you tell him about the latest attempt to rob the penthouse you took up residence in. As you two are catching up you notice someone new walk in. He takes a seat a couple stools down from you. When you shoo Anthony away to go assist a paying customer you look over only to realize it's Dr. Crane.

"Actually, I'll pay for his drink Tony."

"Do I know you?" Having caught his attention he turns to face you, and now you get a proper look at him. He looks even better up close it seems.

"No. I was at your little courthouse today though. Must say, it's quite a gig you got there Doctor Crane."

"Yes, I suppose it is. Not much use for a psychiatrist now, so I do what I can. Clearly you know who I am but I can't say the same about you. You have a name?" You're a little surprised as it's been a while since you ran into someone who didn't know you, but he was legit before all this. As far as you know. Though, it doesn't make sense to you that he'd hold the position he does if he didn't have connections of his own.

"y/n. Maybe you've heard of me? I've done a couple jobs for Falcone" it's no accident you name drop the biggest name in organized crime, if Crane's got connections you're confident it's to him.

"So that's who I'm talking to. The infamous y/n y/l/n. Thief mainly, an accessory to not one, but 3 homicides, and recently building up a reputation for avidly protecting her home." You laugh at this.

"So much for not knowing me then." He has a sip of his drink, and so I have a bit more of my own.

"I meant more personally anyway, really I still know nothing about you." This man is impossible to read, whether he's interested or just being polite I can't tell. So, I move over to the next stool, still leaving space but it cuts the gap in half.

"What exactly would you like to know about me?" I'm thankful Tony has left me alone, I hope it's not just because he's been busy. The last thing I need is to get cockblocked by one of my best friends.

"Lots of things. Though I guess particularly what scares you. Old habit really, phobias and fears were my primary areas of focus." Hearing this makes you chuckle, which intrigues the doctor. "Was something I said funny to you miss y/l/n?"

"Well, just that there's nothing I can really think of that scares me. But... Maybe if you got to know me a bit better you might find something, buried, deep inside me." You were hoping that your fears and likely some repressed childhood trauma weren't going to be the only things deep inside you tonight, and based on his reaction you were definitely on the right track. He was about to empty his glass when he paused, probably realizing what your tone was implying, and set the glass back down. His whole demeanor changed at this point.

"Well, some people find it difficult to talk about themselves without a prompt, and I believe you'd be exactly the type. But I don't think a game of 20 questions is particularly the best way to get to know someone. So, what do you propose?" You shift again, now to the stool right beside his.

"Well..." You pretended to ponder the question, with a smirk on your face. You gently rest your hand on Crane's knee and slowly let it work its way up as you continue to speak. "I was thinking we head back to that famous penthouse of mine. In a more comfortable environment, I might just open up for you." You finish what's left in your glass, as does he, and leave behind a tip for Anthony. You then guide crane out of the bar and lead him back to the penthouse.

"Hey, I'll pay you overtime but I need you on guard for tonight Rodrigo. Get yourself a coffee or something, but if you're not here in the morning, then leaving your post will be the last mistake you ever make. Understood?" If anyone thought you'd leave your place unguarded when you went out they must be crazy. You rotate a few guys as your guards, but you trust Rodrigo the most. So when you're out for long stretches of time, he's who you call. He's a big guy, used to be a bouncer at a club before the underground fighting ring got busted. Most of the guys who got in the ring were fugitives, either broke out of jail or had outstanding warrants. But, despite the tough looks he knows full well I can take him.

"You think I'd try taking you out?" Crane asks, probably joking.

"No, I think some of the guys at the bar will spread word around that I've had a bit to drink and went home with a guy. I'd be completely vulnerable right now if it weren't for him." You say as you both get into the elevator

"the only reason they don't try anything while I'm in the bar is because their boss would kill any one of his men who lays a hand on me. I've been a valuable asset in the past, and he wants to ensure we can do business again in the future."

The elevator dings and the doors slide open to reveal your humble home. A luxurious kitchen and bar to the right, living room with a massive picture window dead ahead, and in between are the steps that lead up to my bedroom, and the balcony. To fill the empty space between the three sections the previous tenants have a beautiful grand piano sitting in the middle of it all.

"It is is quite the place you've found for yourself. I have to say I'm a bit jealous." He follows you out. You didn't expect his reaction, you imagined he'd have a far nicer place than this.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, just about every man I know wishes he could be where you are right now. This is an opportunity not many people get." You lean against the wall in your bedroom, letting him look around but keeping a close eyes on him. He addresses your comment as he makes his way back toward you.

"Being in your penthouse? I've come to understand it's leaving it that's such a coveted opportunity." He raises an eyebrow as though prompting you for more information, but keeps a smirk on his face you roll your eyes playfully and grab his tie, pulling him closer to you.

"Don't play dumb. You know exactly why you're here Doctor."

He grabs both your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand. The other tilts your chin up so your looking him in the eyes

"Please, it's Judge Crane now. And you, my dear, have been found guilty, for the crime of seducing a public official. You're hereby sentenced to one night of passion, here in your own private prison."