#colours Can be important too but shape language silhouette and form is more important because youre gonna notice that faster

[corpsoir]

the second you stop thinking "does this hair make sense?" and "do these clothes make sense?" when youre designing your own characters youre gonna have so much more fun and your characters will look much better and their personality will jump out at you i promise

a good shape/silhouette and visually easy to read character is always a billion times more important than whether or not their gravity defying hair or clothes that physically shouldnt work are realistic or not. get silly with it and relax, its okay. give your oc hair shaped like the eiffel tower who give a shit!!!!

[staylovehearts]

Alas, my Love

Bang Chan x Reader

Word Count ~2.9k

Summary: He’s supposed to be courting her, the beautiful lady of the court, and yet this letter is in your hands and not hers.

Tags: royal AU? Chan is a prince, you are like... a lady of the court he is courting, or something like that? vaguely medieval?, poetry, I actually wrote an original sonnet just for this, too much talk about the moon

You marvel at the letter that has been placed into your hands just a few moments ago. It's still in the early morning hours, the sun hasn't even risen yet but the couriers are already busy and bustling around, handing out notes for the servants to let them know what to do for the day. And among all these small pieces of paper was your letter. Properly with seal and everything. As soon as you received it you hurried back into your quarters to have some privacy to read it. As a court lady, you do have a small room for yourself. Nothing really special, just a bed, a small chest where you can store your clothes and personal items and a desk and chair crammed into a corner. Nothing fancy, but definitely a lot more comfortable than the quarters of the lower servants. There are some perks that come with personally attending to one of the noblewomen of the royal court and having this little space for yourself definitely is one of them. Actually just being able to live in the palace at all is already a lot more than what you could have dreamed of when you were a little girl. But your parents – fairly well-off merchants – saw their chance to send their daughter to the palace and took it. So here you are trying to live up to your parent's expectations and hoping for some rich nobleman to court you. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have expected to actually be courted by someone so noble.

You pull the door to your small chamber close behind you discretely before you walk over to your desk. For a moment you just stare at the letter while your heartbeat is speeding up in your chest. The wax seal is as beautiful as it is familiar to you at this point. It's a wonderful dark red. Burgundy. The colour itself is already an indication of royalty. It's the kind of wax that only the royal family and those really close to them are allowed to use. Just the wax itself is already a clear indication of how important this letter is. And then there is the seal. An intricate rose wrapped around a sword. The seal of the royal family. The first time you received one of these letters you tried so carefully to prie that seal of without breaking it so you could store it somewhere safe. In fact, it's still tucked away in your pillowcase. But this time you dare to break the seal open carefully to free the letter from the envelope. The paper is pristine white, the ink a royal blue. Even before you start consciously reading the letter you notice the elegant squiggle of beautifully written letters, the clear indication of the skilled hand holding the quill to write you words that masterfully play on your heartstrings. But well, that much can probably be expected of a prince.

Chan writes poetically. He conveys even the simplest things in words that make them seem grand. He doesn't write that he misses you, he never does. Instead, he writes that his heart aches for you in the late-night hours when the candle on his writing-table is burning low and the moon is the only witness to the words he writes you. You'll read over lines like these several times to allow yourself the time to completely grasp all the beautiful implications of his writing. His sentences are so intricate. Then again, just simple words make you stop and gape at the writing.

My dearest he writes and that alone is enough to make you stop for a moment and let these words go through your head. My. Mine... It's so possessive. Intimate. You're his. You belong to him. Or at least you wish you would and he seems to be sharing that desire. Dearest. Not just dear. Dearest. A superlative. The most dear of them all. The most special. His favourite. Combined they make a powerful declaration of love even though technically it's just a greeting. Chan never puts his confessions into blunt words. He can't. So you had to learn to read them between the lines. Find the few words he is not allowed to right between the many less incriminating ones. Because the prince should not be sending love letters to a court lady. Especially not the one personally attending to the noblewoman he should actually be making his advances on. And yet this letter is in your hands and not hers.

You read through it several times quickly, knowing fully well that your lady is probably going to wake up soon and require your help to get dressed and that you won't have the time to savour every word now. He calls you for a meeting tonight. Under that beautiful old oak tree in the royal gardens. Past sundown, when the moon is high in the sky and the stars shine their brightest. There is also another piece of paper, of different quality. This one seems a bit more tattered. As if he has been keeping it on his desk for longer, mulling over every little word. It's most likely a poem. One that you don't have time to read now even though you wish you could. But duty always calls and you quickly stuff away the beautiful letter under your mattress where you tend to hide them. Since you have requested to make your own bed no one else would ever dare to even touch your matress. You've claimed that it's for modesty. That you would feel embarrassed letting anyone else into your room to mess with your bed. Wouldn't it be indecent to let someone else into your personal chambers like that? And of course, they let you have your way, admiring what a demure little blushing creature you are. When the reality of what you are hiding behind that modest smile is far from decent. But alas, don't all ladies have their little secrets?

You smooth over the wrinkles in your skirt and take a few deep breaths, hoping that it will help to calm the telling blush away before you step out of your room to play the part that was assigned to you.

The dress she's wearing is a fairytale of the softest light blue cotton and intricate pristine white lace designs. And it's just a simple dress. Nothing too fancy. Just a casual dress for a lazy summer day spent with lessons and tea in the courtyard later that day. And yet it takes almost an hour to make sure everything is in place perfectly. Just putting on all of the layers seems to take forever. Undergarments, corset, underskirt, the actual dress on top of it all. Everything has to be put on with precision to make sure the ruffles will fall just right and the skirt has just the right shape that the lady wants for this to have.

She recounts her schedule for the day to you while you pin up luscious brown curls into the requested hairstyle. She speaks in a sing-song voice while she talks of piano lessons and reading time and having tea with some of her friends in the garden in the afternoon. You are expected to memorise these details, even though you won't have to be present for most of it. Only the tea party. If anything. But your lady demands that the world is hanging at her rose-tinted lips, all eyes on the powder dusted pale face with the glowing cheeks. She is a beauty. A true Donna Angelicata. How do you compare to that? How does anyone compare at all?

And yet, the letter is with you. Hidden under your bed, so you may read over the words again every night by candlelight. Wax melting away like the facade of the demure maid you put on by day. Only the moon sees you strip naked to your soul and exposing all your indecent little secrets. Prince Chan would surely like this poetic language and sometimes you wish you could just take a quill and answer his letters in rhymes. Send back and forth declarations of love in the form of sonnets. But you have never even learned the art of writing one. And even if you could, there is no way someone in your position could just send letters to the prince without raising questions.

And yet he sends them to you and not her.

It's cold out at night, even with the shawl you have wrapped around your shoulders. Dark, but you find the way just fine. The moon is high in the sky, a full orb of pale light shining down on you and illuminating the path in front of you. There is a wooden bench under the old oak tree. And there, sitting on it, is him. His silvery hair catches the moonlight, almost reflects it as if it were the surface of a dark pond that is like a mirror to the sky above. Even from the distance, you can make out the distinct posture he sits in. With his back straight and his legs elegantly folded over each other. The posture of someone royal. The first few times you approached him like that you almost always bowed your head instantly upon seeing him sit there like that. An apology for your tardiness ready on your lips. But now you walk with your head held high.

Chan raises his head just before you reach him. His dark eyes sparkle like the stars when he makes out your silhouette. Before you can even get out a word of greeting he has already jumped up from the bench only to gently grab hold of your hand with his gloved one and kneel down in front of you to press a wark kiss to the back of your hand.

"It truly is a wonderful night now that you are here with me", he comments as he gets up again and gestures to the bench for you to sit down first. The ladies of the court would giggle behind their hand at a comment like this. Blush and fan their faces with the feathered fans that are worth more than the dress you are wearing. But you roll your eyes and smile.

"You are flattering me, my prince", you say before you sit down carefully. Even though the skirt of your dress is so simple you still pay attention to gathering up properly before you sit down, not wanting to get it torn or bunched up awkwardly. Prince Chan sits down next to you. Laughing. The sound of silver bells chiming. But you don't allow it to affect you. "So, what makes you ask a maiden out at such a late hour? You should know that some may think of it as indecent for us to meet like this."

It's a farce, a little game the two of you like to play. You act like it's the first time, accusing and teasing, and Chan will fake gasp as if he hasn't met up with you like this way too many times to count. The night is a good time for meetings like these. Where no one is around to observe. How many secrets has the moon borne witness to? How many lovers have met under the stars? And to how many of them are those ever actually kind? Is this what starcrossed lovers really means? But today Chan skips over the playing around. Eyes piercing, but nonaggressively so, he's looking right at you.

"Have you read what I wrote to you?", he asks. There seems to be gravity to his words and you are immediately reminded of the second part of the letter. The part that you did not have time to read in the morning. And haven't read since.

"I was in a rush and did not have time to properly look at the poem", you admit timidly. You can see the disappointment on his face and it stings like an arrow through the heart. You quickly try to make up for failing him like this. "But I have it with me right now. If you would be so kind as to read it to me, I would feel very honoured."

"Ah, I see how it is", he chuckles. You have pulled out the folded paper from where you have kept it carefully tucked away in your apron but he refuses to take it. "I have mulled the words over so many times, I know them by heart. So let me recite it for you."

My lady, shall we meet under the oak Where for the night we will be safe from harm And the dark wraps around us like a cloak Yet it is your embrace that keeps me warm I once gave a promise that I then broke When I fell for you and all of your charm Because the moment we locked eyes I woke You took my weapon from my hand, you disarm

So now here I am, half a man, all yours I wish our love could sprout like buds so free But the flower you are remains unseen So I'm begging of you to break the doors And what binds you to anyone but me My lady, together we shall bloom green

He takes a short break after speaking to look at you with the same intensity as earlier. You sit in silence, allowing the words to resonate with you. You can't wrap your mind around the full meaning but you have a feeling that it is very important. To him. To you. To the both of you. Moving forward, this poem will change everything.

"It's... different", you finally dare to say, not yet confident enough to comment on the content of the words that have been laid out in front of you.

"Yes, the structure is different, it's a Petrarchan sonnet, but that can barely matter now. I need you to understand what I'm saying, but I'm not good at putting it bluntly, so please tell me that you can read between the lines of my convoluted poetry."

"The green... what does it mean?", you finally dare to ask. Although you do have an idea of what this is implying you want him to say it. Straight to your face just once. With no decoding and interpretation required. Just honest words, stripped down to their very soul. No one is listening but you and the moon. And yet the prince hesitates for a moment before he gives in with a heavy sigh.

"It means a new beginning, spring, falling in love with you. I want for our love to bloom and prosper and grow flowers. I want to be with you until we get as old as this oak tree. I want green leaves growing in the daylight and not just closed buds that we are not allowed to water. I want to be with you, run away with you if I have to. If that is the only way I can have you I'd gladly give up my position."

"Do you realise what you are saying? What you are asking of me?"

"I know that it's probably a lot to ask but-"

"Do you, do you really?", you interrupt him. It feels a little silly but you can feel the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Because for someone like him who never had to actually fear losing something giving away what he has must seem like nothing. The only divide between the two of you. "You do understand that if I were to run away and elope with you that's not where it ends. The people will talk. Of the prince and his mistress that seduced him into giving up the thrown. I do not want to be a mistress. Besides, you have responsibilities. And I have no part of them."

Chan looks completely stunned for a moment. Then he gets up from the bench again to kneel in front of you. Demure and almost ashamed looking. But his eyes are burning with passion.

"I would never let anyone speak foul of you. With me, you'd never be a mistress. You are my lady and I will make sure that everyone knows. I will go speak to my father if you wish. And I will tell him that I have chosen you, that I am stepping down. My sister is far more capable to lead than I will ever be either way. And once she grows up to become a queen she will surpass all the men that have come before her. And I will be with you until we grow old. So, what do you say, my lady?"

He is holding out his hand for you. Asking for yours. Waiting for you to take his. And you do.

"I say, green leaves to our future", you whisper with a smile while your fingers intertwine with his. Chan looks at you with a smile. A million stars reflecting in his eyes. Galaxies are born the moment you look at him. A supernova created by a small glance.

"Green leaves, my lady. From here on out it shall be only flowery paths for my love."

[padfootagain]

Rob The Bank

So… here I am, writing for a new fandom!! But these two are too adorable for me to resist!! So here it a cute little thing :) I hope you all like it. Of course, as I've started writing for them, you can ask requests for them from now on! I will not be writing reader inserts for them though, I ship these two too much for that.

Gif not mine

Word count : 4594

Aziraphale was the one to be easily fooled. He was also the one to get into trouble because of it often. His kind and trusting nature was undoubtedly to blame for this pattern. He seemed to miss all the signs of betrayal that were thrown at him, until the deception was so obvious it was actually unfolding for the entire world to see. Not that Aziraphale was stupid, he had come out of difficult situations, and with a little bit of time forcing wisdom into his brain, he had been able to avoid some traps set on his path. Still, more often than not, the angel found himself in a trap, and Crowley generally came to the rescue. A little miracle and pouf! Everyone could go home safe and sound, or well, knowing Aziraphale, chances were that he would invite the demon for an excellent meal as a gesture of gratitude.

But not this time.

This time, it was Crowley who found himself trapped behind bars. And he still couldn't believe how he had found himself in this tiny cell.

His mission was simple though. It was the second half of the 19th century, the migration in the Western parts of the continent was going strong in the US. And despite the dry weather and few people around, the little towns were popping out of the ground like mushrooms colonizing the ground of a rainy forest in autumn. The rash weather and the isolation from bigger cities made these new towns a perfect playground for the demon. And he had found the perfect weapon.

Saloons.

Easy to build, easy to finance, easy to take care of afterwards and it held a power of destruction that no one in Hell had foreseen (including him). Alcohol was the perfect catalyst for violence and stupid actions. Crowley merely had to make sure that every person in the desert would have a chance to get a few glasses of whiskey. Humans would do the rest of the job. Even better, Crowley had found out that planting both a saloon and a bank in the same town increased exponentially the disruption in this area. From murders to robberies, the list of crimes was reaching the stars.

At least, that was the official version he had given to his superiors in Hell. The reality was that humans had created this abomination that was alcohol all by themselves, and they had felt the need that one of the first things that any man, no matter where he was in the world, should have access to was alcohol. Apparently, it was much more important to them to get whiskey rather than healthy food, provisions, medications, doctors or any other goods and skills that could increase their lifespan. Which is why they created saloons. And seeing the results, Crowley had claimed it all as his own idea when the question had been asked to him if he had been in the initiative of this or not. Now, obviously, it was expected from him to make sure the saloons bloomed through the desert like roses in Kensington Gardens in June. And so he did. After all, he didn't really have a choice.

However, he had been surprised at first not to see anything coming from the other side, but he reckoned that Aziraphale was too busy trying to save a few Native Americans. A point Crowley had not foreseen happening entirely, but understood now. Humans were greedy. Humans were unrespectful. Humans were quick at pointing at differences and claiming them as arguments for establishing different values amongst people. The colour of one's skin, their language, their traditions… as soon as these aspects parted from their own, they were considered as a proof that these people they didn't know and had never met before were their inferiors. And when Europeans had first set foot on the American continent, neither Crowley nor Aziraphale had imagined that they would decide that slaughtering entire civilizations and stealing people's lands and belongings and traditions and freedom would be a good way to start their adventures on this brand-new piece of land. But looking back, Crowley reckoned that they had both been fools. Slavery and slaughters had always been a part of human history, why would it change now?

Crowley brought back his mind on the present with a loud sigh. It wasn't the time to drift back towards the past and meditate on the stupidity of the human race. So he brought back his train of thoughts back on the issue he was dealing with before his mind drifted away.

Aziraphale. Trying to save people in the wild west. Explanation to why Crowley was left building saloons and banks all around the US freely.

Crowley had been opening a brand new establishment in this little town set in the middle of absolutely nowhere when troubles he had not foreseen were thrown upon him. Which, he reckoned, was particularly unfair. He had been merely minding his own little business, and there came trouble, without invitation or provocation.

Two dirty-looking rascals had walked into the new saloon. With a few drinks in them, they had shared with Crowley their plan of robbing the bank set right across the street. Their plan though, as they presented it to him, seemed altogether rather messy, at best. So of course, Crowley had considered it his duty to help them out by giving them a few ideas of his. He knew they would work well, he had helped planning another robbery in a nearby town just a month before.

And that was when the treachery happened.

For the two rascals were indeed not rascals. Despite their pitiful looks, they worked for the sheriff and they had been looking for the brain behind the robbery that had happened in the neighbouring town. And Crowley had fallen right into the fire.

Before he knew what was happening, the sheriff had thrown him into this disgusting cell. He was accused of orchestrating the first robbery and trying to hire people to attempt a second stunt. And Crowley felt very offended by both statements as :

a)     He had not been a part of the first robbery, had never even set a foot in the building in question, and had merely given a few advices, just like he had attempted to do again in the saloon with the two fake rascals.

b)     He had never tried to hire anyone and was merely minding his own business in the first place.

He could have tried to miracle his way out of it. But he had been using quite a lot of these to build up his demonical plan spreading alcohol and money-reservoirs across the western lands. And he reckoned that using a major miracle now would only pull too much attention towards him. Considering his arrangement with the angel and his own personal appreciation of his freedom of actions on Earth, he was more than reluctant at using his powers for this.

He would have to find another way out of this. But how?

He was deeply thinking about this in the middle of the night, the cell and sheriff's house all filled with shadows, lying on the very hard bench he would have to call a bed for the evening, when he felt a familiar shudder shaking the air.

It was not much, just a presence nearby. A little tremor through the stillness of the night, like a whisper carried by the wind. He recognized it instantly though. It was always around him, in the distance, and he didn't pay much attention to the acknowledgement of it that constantly took place at the back of his mind, except when the presence was not far but closer, causing bigger ripples in the velvet canva of the Universe than usual. Suddenly, this tremor in the air had grown strong enough for Crowley to be fully aware of it, and a smile formed on his lips before the door even opened upon the familiar silhouette of Aziraphale.

The silvery moon embraced his shape in an almost surreal contrast with the rest of the world drenched with shadows. He was wearing a white ensemble from the tip of his cowboy boots to the edge of his hat, that formed a sheer but familiar contrast with the black clothes Crowley wore. He had a little bit of dust upon him, that coloured slightly his white suit and long beige coat in a yellow-to-brownish shade. His skin seemed either a little tanned or merely coloured by the dust as well, it was hard to tell from Crowley's place in the cell. After all, the angel had not alit any candle yet, the demon could only count on his developed sight for now.

Aziraphale hurried inside and urgently closed the door behind him. He searched for Crowley through the shadows, but it took him less than a second to spot the slender form lying in the cell.

"Crowley! Is that you?"

"Who else could it be?" the demon answered, standing up and resting his hands against the bars.

"What have you done again, you silly snake?!"

Aziraphale advanced through the room until he faced his friend – although he would never admit out loud that Crowley was his friend, of course, wrong sides and all these technicalities… - until he was standing right before the cell, and it looked almost as if Crowley had placed his hands against a wall on either sides of the angel.

"I didn't even do anything!" Crowley protested. "I didn't! I was just opening a saloon, 's all!"

"Opening a saloon?"

"Well of course! Temptation, chaos, crimes, and all that. And then these two guys arrived and for some reason they put me in that cell!"

"They say you've… robbed a bank!" Aziraphale tried to control how loud he spoke to not draw the attention of anyone who could have been passing by before the building. But at this ungodly hour of the night, there was no one outside but a few rats and the whispering of the wind in deep conversation with the leaves of the crooked tree growing down the street.

Or well, almost no one…

"They're going to hang you, Crowley!"

The demon raised an eyebrow.

"Well… that is a little extreme for merely being accused of orchestrating a robbery…"

"Not here, it's not. They're going to hang you! You have to miracle your way out of this!"

"I can't. Used too many miracles lately, I can't draw attention on myself or they might learn about our little arrangement."

Aziraphale shuddered, but nodded.

"Alright, I'll get you out then."

Crowley could hardly refrain the grin that started to form on his lips.

"Well, if you could hurry then, Angel…"

But the loud echoes of boots hitting the wooden ground right on the threshold echoed, and Aziraphale panicked. He grimaced, trembled, his eyebrows shot up towards his hairline as his eyes grew rounder and bigger than saucers and his lips parted in a horrified 'O' shape.

"No, don't panic, get me out…" Crowley tried to calm his friend down, but it was too late.

Aziraphale was gone.

"Angel!" Crowley called, and his friend reappeared for a mere second.

"I'll get you out later."

"Why? No! Now!"

"They'll look up for you everywhere if I do. Don't worry, I have a plan."

The door unlocked and Aziraphale let out a loud gasp that was halfway towards a shriek before he vanished into thin air again.

Crowley cursed under his breath as the Sheriff walked in, but there was nothing he could. He had to wait for rescue…

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

 Crowley was starting to become a little worried. As his executioner was tightening the knot around his neck, he was beginning to think that, despite the risks coming from Hell, he might be wiser to miracle his way out of this one now. He reckoned that the paperwork coming with him being discorporated would bring much more wrath upon him than producing a miracle.

The sun was too hot and the air too dry, the dust swept away by the harsh wind stuck to Crowley’s sweaty skin. He had asked as a last will to keep his sunglasses, but his black hat had been taken away, and he regretted the accessory. If he was constantly amazed by how people in this part of the world constantly found ways to spread chaos, he couldn’t deny that he preferred the climate in London right now…

The crowd that had gathered to watch his execution shuddered with excitement. Crowley had not been paying much attention to the executioner as he enumerated the laws the demon had broken and that led him there, to be cooking up under the too hot sun like an egg in a pan. And he guessed that the executioner must have had a moment of eloquence to make the crowd so excited all of a sudden. Crowley did not pay any attention to it all, however.

Instead, his snake-like eyes were searching through the crowd. He couldn’t believe Aziraphale was not here. Or well, actually, he knew his best friend was here, he could feel it. But where by the Devil’s name was he hiding?

A glint of beige caught his eyes, seeming even brighter under the intense sunlight, and Crowley’s lips curved up at the corners as he finally recognized the angel.

He was dressed in the same manner as Crowley had seen him the previous night, and the demon didn’t fail to notice that his clothes were a little more covered with dust than the previous night. Catching his friend’s gaze, Aziraphale couldn’t refrain a nervous smile. He gave Crowley a nod, letting him know he had the situation under control. To which the demon replied by painting on his features an expression that meant "better hope so, angel".

There was an excited tremor through the crowd as the executioner rested his hand on the lever that would open the hatch under Crowley’s feet. But all the while, Crowley kept his attention focused upon Aziraphale. And the angel’s lips formed the smallest of smiles as he looked at Crowley, a content look on his kind features, sign that everything was going as planned.

And if Crowley had any doubts left (and he would not easily admit that he already had no doubts left the second he spotted Aziraphale standing there in the crowd), they dissipated with the sight of the angel's content little wiggle. So Crowley didn’t try anything. It was as much as his trust in the angel was absolute: as the lever was pulled and the hatch under his feet opened and he felt gravity pulling him down towards the ground and the rope around his neck slip up a little, he didn’t do anything. He didn’t try any miracle of his own. He let Aziraphale save him, thinking that he would have to make sure to buy his friend the best meal he could find. And as the rope stopped his fall and he started to feel the knot digging into his skin, he closed his eyes.

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

 Aziraphale was generally a patient man, but not so much when he was worried. He then had a tendency to wiggle a little more than usual, pace a lot and imagine the scenes that would occur in his mind thousands of times. But now it was more than nervousness. It was impatience. Pure and simple. After all, even if everything was going as planned so far, it was still a messy and rather risky business he was going through. The sooner he was getting it all over with, the better.

So, while he was waiting at the undertaker, he kept on pacing in the man's office. Ten minutes he had been waiting for the man already, he was certain that he was going to lose his mind. Besides, he was not at all where he was supposed to be. He couldn't stop himself from worrying about either his or Crowley's side learning that he was here, with Crowley lying in a coffin next door…

"Mr… Azira… fell…"

He jumped as a rather crooked and old man appeared behind him.

"Aziraphale. Yes, hello, sir." The angel's face broke with a bright grin.

"Right… so, ya' here for the robber?"

"Yes, indeed. I would very much like to get back his body. He's a cousin of mine, no matter the terrible things he seems to have done, and he should be resting with our family…"

The old man shushed him with a quick and rather impolite gesture of the hand.

"Whatever, no one 'lse gonna claim tha' bastard. Be off wi' him 'en."

"Really? Oh, thank you, my good sir!" Aziraphale shook the man's hand with a thankful and relieved smile.

He had expected some checking of his parentage with Crowley, or at least more questions… but he guessed that the authorities, just like the undertaker, didn't care much about a hanged man.

"Can ya take him now?" the grumpy man asked.

"Oh, yes. Of course."

"Good, well, then, go ahead. Do you want me to put him in a coffin?"

"Well… is it not what one is supposed to do with a… dead body?" Aziraphale frowned.

"Do ya 'eally think I'm gonna waste my time wi' a culprit? I got better things to do wi' my time!"

"Of course… well, if you could just put him in a coffin anyway, I would be grateful. After all, we need to get out of town, and I would rather have everything looking as normal as possible."

"Can you pay fo' the coffin? These things ain't fo' free."

"Of course, I can."

As if to prove his point, Aziraphale showed him some money with a large smile, and at the sight of coins, the undertaker finally seemed to be a little less grumpy than before.

Only a few minutes later, the coffin, that turned out to be little more than a big wooden box, was put at the back of Aziraphale's wagon. As he guided his horses forward and across town, the angel couldn't help but imagine that most people he passed by were suspiciously staring at him, but then, he figured that it might have been his imagination mingling with his strong awareness of doing something secret and illegal – according to both human laws and the laws of Heaven and Hell. But then, the situation called for desperate measures, there was nothing he could do about it.

He didn't slow down nor stop before he was out of town and couldn't see any sign of civilization around him anymore. By then, the sun had sunk beyond the horizon already, and the velvety sky had chosen to wear a dark purple shade instead of its usual blue. The orangish dust of the desert was blown by the wind in little spirals that erased the traces left by the wheels of the wagon. Aziraphale had been careful in leaving no trace of their journey.

He finally heaved a relieved sigh, letting his eyes rest for a few seconds on the distant chasm of the canyons carved in red stone, barely visible under the shy light of the crescent moon. Stars were beginning to appear here and there, tiny spots of burning gas light-years away. Aziraphale couldn't help but feel a little sting of melancholy as his eyes drifted amongst the shining lights, the thought crossing his mind that some of them were not up there anymore, that they had already died out and exploded into clouds of atoms along time ago, and that the light he saw now was but their handprint left on the sky.

But he quickly shook himself out of his thought, bringing himself back to the matter at hand. He turned around to the wooden coffin, and with a mere snap of his fingers, he opened the top.

Crowley was lying there, eyes closed, hands resting on his abdomen, looking paler than usual, his red hair pushed back to reveal his thin face. And for a moment, Aziraphale was hit by the truth that this time, his best friend, his only friend really, when he came to think of it, or at least the only one he could really rely on no matter what may happen, could truly have died out there. He would have been merely discorporated, and would most likely have been back after a short while, but Aziraphale couldn't imagine what kind of troubles he would have run into in Hell. He imagined that being discorporated would have gotten him into the worst kind of trouble indeed… He shuddered at the thought. He shuddered at the thought that he had come so close to losing the only being that understood him. He blamed for it the millennia they had spent alone on Earth, but he knew deep down that there was something more to it. He chose not to investigate further on his own feelings for now, however, and instead pushed away the dreadful thought of Crowley's pain and gently touched the demon's shoulder.

"Crowley? We're in the clear. Wake up."

But the demon didn't move, making Aziraphale frown.

"Crowley?"

He shook the demon's shoulder, but again, his friend remained motionless. And all of a sudden, the angel was taken over by such a tidal wave of pure and agonizing panic.

What if something had gotten wrong? What if Aziraphale had failed his miracle? What if… what if Crowley was dead because of him?

"Crowley! Crowley! Oh no… oh dear…"

He shook the demon some more, feeling his heart breaking in his chest in such a painful way he had never experienced before, not even when he had had to witness the Great Flood, or all these people dying of new diseases like the plague or the smallpox… these touched humans and if he truly loved them, Crowley touched another string in Aziraphale's heart. Something that echoed deeper, something more personal somehow, something he had both chosen and not chosen at all… He could hardly express it into words, all he knew was that he was more afraid and hurt than he had ever been before.

But then, the most beautiful sound echoed around him, and he heaved a relieved sigh, finally acknowledging the tears that had appeared in his eyes.

Crowley let out a low groan, before opening one eye.

"Angel?" he asked in a hoarse, raspy voice.

"Yes! Yes! Oh, you scared me so much!"

Crowley let out a second guttural sound.

"Let's never do that again," he sighed, rubbing his painful neck. "I feel like I've been trampled by a horse."

Aziraphale helped him sitting up.

"You could have just miracled me out of there. You didn't need to overdo it," Crowley complained.

"Yes, but then, they would know you were alive, and they… they would have been looking for you. Dead or alive. You would have been in danger."

Crowley couldn’t refrain the smile that formed on his lips at the sight of the worried angel by his side.

"Well, I'm alright, and they think I'm dead. Should I say thank you?"

"No need for that."

"I reckon I shouldn't linger around here too long still."

"Probably not."

Crowley finally noticed that he didn't have his sunglasses anymore, and he winced. Until Aziraphale reached for his pocket.

Silently, the angel handed him his pair of glasses, and Crowley was so touched by the gesture that he merely thanked the angel with a smile. He hesitated to put them on, but changed his mind. After all, there was only Aziraphale around, and he reckoned that if there was one person in this Universe with whom he could be himself, it was the angel. So instead of placing them on his nose, he put them safely in the pocket of his vest.

He climbed out of the coffin and came to sit next to Aziraphale, who was looking up at the stars again.

"What were you doing at all out there anyway?" Aziraphale asked his friend, without taking his eyes off the burning lights.

"I told you, I was opening a saloon."

"Oh, I should have known you were behind these. Do you know how much bad alcohol does to this world?! Or well… rather their excessive use of it."

"It wasn't my idea. Humans found that all by themselves. But then I was asked by my side if I had invented these, and I could hardly tell the truth. Now, I'm expected to open more of those."

"I see," Aziraphale nodded, his voice calmer again.

"And then I was accused of a crime I didn't even commit! I didn't even rob these banks, or organized anything. I did give the robbers an advice or two, but you can hardly speak of me as the mastermind behind it all even then. Actually… perhaps I should rob a bank. Right now. We should do it together. We go to the next town and we rob the bank, so at least, they will have tried to discorporate me for a real reason."

"Us robbing bank? Don't be ridiculous," Aziraphale replied, trying to sound outraged, but he was merely amused, really.

"What about you? I heard you were trying to help with the slaughtering."

"I'm afraid I am losing though, Crowley. I am trying to make them see that they all can live peacefully together but… they always end up stealing and then killing and… I don't know how I can make things better."

Crowley remained silent for a moment, a saddened expression on his face.

"Well… if I have to get away for a while to avoid being discorporated, and if you can't do anything to stop humans from stupidly slaughtering each others… what about we take a little break."

"A break?" Aziraphale asked back, finally looking at the demon next to him.

Crowley nodded.

"For how long have you been away from your bookshop?"

"Oh dear… I think it has been years…"

"We should go back to London for a while. We can't do anything good or bad here anyway. We could go home."

"We can't Crowley, we have… missions to do and…"

"Oh, come on! You can't stop them from killing each other. And I can't go back or they'll hang me again. So what is the point? We're not abandoning her missions, we're just… facing the harsh reality that we cannot succeed this time. Besides… who cares? They're not going to check on us, Angel. No one will know. Wouldn't you rather be back home, with your books and some nice tea?"

"Oh, right before coming here, I found this very rare edition of some of Rousseau's The Social Contract… a real beauty." Aziraphale let himself be convinced, and he was suddenly full of this adorable excitement of his. "I have to show you!"

A rather tender smile formed on Crowley's features, although he would have denied that he was even capable of feeling tenderness at all.

"I'd love to see it, Angel."

"But first… what about we stay here for a moment?" Aziraphale proposed, with a slight blush blooming on his cheeks that he failed to hide. "The stars are particularly beautiful tonight, don't you think?"

Crowley looked up at the sky, his same tender smile still on his lips, but it was hard to tell then if when he spoke again he was really talking about the stars, or something else entirely.

"You're right, Angel. It all makes a rather beautiful sight."

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

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[zacharyleishmanfilmstudent]

Contextual Studies - Illumination Session 1: You Me and Context Part 1 Lecture Notes and Thoughts

The following is a report of the session conducted on 01/10/2018 where discussions were held on the importance of context in relation to art as well as the medium of film and the role it can play in both the analysis and critique of film.

The initial notion raised to us was the idea that context is important because “context is everything!”. This establishes the notion that knowing the details of not only the artistic intention but the means and reasons for production is key in discerning the quality of a piece as well as the effect the art can have on the viewer.

Context was defined as the circumstances that form the setting for an event, statement or idea, with the idea of this module being to explain contextual studies. Contextual studies are able to allow us to think around an object or text to situate around it and place it within the time and place in which it was produced. Similarly it can also provide historical and theoretical frameworks which we may understand in a text or an object.

The idea of a bubble being the place in which we prefer to work, separate from the outside world and privy solely to our own imposed conditions was raised to us, with the message that contextual studies will be helpful in making us abandon this bubble. The abandoning of our personal space and private ideologies was encouraged due to contextual studies being able to supplement our practice as it can allow us to understand how our work works in the real world. It can also capably increase understanding of our discipline as we can begin to understand how everything we admire or are inspired by is birthed from existing historical or theoretical framework.

Several images were soon shown to serve as an exercise where we would critique the art around them. The Disney film Solo was the first to be raised and honestly the most prominent topic of the conversation as a whole. Notions of how the film could be critiqued because the characters had no arc were raised as well as how the film de-mystifies a character that has historically throughout the Star Wars mythos been magnetic because of our lack of information of his past. The most important point raised though was the contextual knowledge that this film at its core did not need to exist given it was made solely for the purposes of money not for artistic gain or interpretation, with the idea of relevance and necessity being the concepts we used to critique the film from then on.

Several important questions were quickly raised afterwards that were important for us to consider when critiquing a film. Based on the theme of context these questions included the likes of “why was it made?”, “who made it?”, “when did they create it” and “what have other people said about it?”. All of these questions, we were informed would found the basis of establishing context for a piece of art and would be pieces of information that would likely contribute to successful analysis and critique of the art in question.

We were then shown three pieces of art that would help emphasise the importance of context within art. The first was a royal painting painted by Velasquez that showed a painter having his session of painting interrupted by the monarch’s daughter. The addition of context that the painter liked to produce P.O.V paintings was useful then in discerning not only the point of the piece but later allowed us to establish the paintings several focal points.

Second came a heavily visualised animation of a silhouette of a man diving into a pool being illuminated to appear almost a neon-red. Produced by Jack Goldstein we were enamoured with the visual aesthetic of the film until being told that the filmmaker was Jewish and that the silhouette had been taken from a film made by Leni Riefenstahl a known collaborator of Adolf Hitler. Suddenly the piece took a far more emotion standpoint with this added context. Notions of animosity were immediately raised particularly because of the colouring suggesting far more layers of subtext had been attached to the film than we had previously envisioned.

Before the final film was shown we were treated to an important piece of information as well as several pieces of terminology relating to contextual studies. The information was that contextual studies is more than “Intertextuality”. It’s about understanding how to analyse a work, and how to communicate ideas through a medium.

The terminology that followed included:

Criticism – the act of engaging critically with a text or object

Theory – a system of ideas

Discourse – the language or terminology of a particular field of intellectual enquiry

Ideology – a system of beliefs or ideals

Finally we were shown an extremely pretentious perfume advertisement featuring the (actually immensely talented) Dakota Johnson frolicking in a field before entering a lake (imagery I couldn’t object to, given how attractive she is, but was nonetheless bored by given the cliché nature of it). This was followed by an almost parody fashion film produced by Viva Vena in which the underrated Lizzy Caplan re-created imagery and clichés from modern perfume adverts in a seemingly similar advert before being called out by a friend on the ridiculousness of her behaviour (an action I wish ad executives would re-enact to their employees).

The film stood as testament on how to critique context by re-shaping and re-purposing it for comedic effect. This was effective as we the audience were aware of the contextual criteria of these forms of adverts and were not only amused to see them ridiculed by mocked too. This concluded the session and after being set a task to find an image or object that defines us and whom we are, as well as our reason for taking the course.

[coolbloggerthings]

15 tips for better creature design

Creating creature designs and art in general is like a sport. You need to practice and train if you want to improve. When you draw every day and have thousands of used sheets of paper and sketchbooks, you learn some tricks to make the process a little easier.

Draw everything: you’ll get faster and your brain will become a database full of references. There are also a few basic tips you already may know, but it’s good to go over them again: things like contrast, shapes, lines of action, movement, perspective. Put all of these techniques together and your creatures will look alive and be full of personality. For more on process, see our post on art techniques, or read on for top 15 tips for creating better creature designs.

And if you want to read more about characters in general, check out our character design tips post.

01. Draw quick thumbnails

Create simple silhouettes to get started with your creature design

Drawing quick and simple thumbnails is a helpful warm-up exercise. There are a few things to bear in mind, though. I always try to keep the design simple; the silhouette needs to be easy to read. I use a solid colour and sometimes I draw over it with a darker colour tone. In this case I’m concentrating on creatures, which means I’m free to create different shapes, combining object, animal and human elements.

02. Don't forget references

References are vital to designing creatures

If I don’t feel inspired to draw then I’ll look around for some references. In this case, I’ll search for objects that I can either use as part of a creature, or just act as a launch point to galvanise me into action. My main reference sources are mythology, animals and nature and so I’ll draw some objects (African masks, runes, a cauldron…) and some animals. My sketchbooks are full of such doodles and they can easily end up being part of a figure design.

Need a new sketchbook? Check out our guide to the best sketchbooks.

03. Use basic shapes

Simple shapes can become complex characters

What if I start with basic shapes to create my character? All of them can turn into a creature, right? You might think this is a limitation, but it also forces you to be extra creative. This approach can be a good method for designing a squad of characters that work together, like superheroes. These shapes are just one way to start your designs. Sometimes I break the silhouette by adding elements, or I leave some empty spaces.

04. Combine basic shapes

How a basic shape design can develop into a creature

This approach can lead to interesting results. One of my previous thumbnails is a blend of triangles, circles and a rectangle. When I sketch over this basic form I can see immediately that it’s a one-eyed warrior hare carrying a shield and a candle. I start with a very simple doodle in greyscale and then add some details in the colour drawing. This breaks up the symmetry and make this character more visually appealing.

05. Draw without purpose

Put your references away and just start sketching

Another useful starting exercise is to simply draw without a specific purpose. And it’s important to me to do this without references. I don’t expect to create my greatest piece of art this way, but this can inspire future projects. Maybe I’ll pay attention to these sketches someday and fresh ideas will come to mind. It’s also a good exercise to banish the dreaded artist’s block.

06. Think about body language

Body language can convey a lot about a character

If you want your creatures to be expressive then it’s crucial to understand anatomy and body language. Combine these two key topics and your creation will feel more alive. I believe it’s vital to understand how bodies can express an emotion. You can obtain references from plenty of sources: study films, friends and model sessions; look in the mirror; or take some photos of interesting poses. This step is crucial. As a cartoon character designer, I tend to exaggerate these body expressions with more pronounced curves or shapes.

For more on anatomy and figures, see our guide to figure drawing.

07. Use lines of action

Straight lines can look dull, so experiment with curves and contrast

Using simple lines will define the movement of the creature. These are called lines of action. They’ll vary depending on the creature’s mood and activity. Straight lines can make your figure look boring or static, so I often use curved and contrasting lines because they result in more eye-catching body positions. It’s crucial to draw a range of dynamic poses, because they’re a useful way of testing your creature’s proportions and anatomy.

08. Keep experimenting

Try a number of different variants of a creature before settling on your final design

Maintain your creativity by revisiting older designs and producing variants that will work in that universe. Here I’m keeping the same basic shapes and proportions for the different versions. Colours and materials have an important role to play, too. What if, instead of leaves, he has crystal hair? Or maybe there’s a constant flame on the top of his head? These variations can enrich your original concept. Other options include changing the size, age or sex of the character.

09. Add contrast

Image 1 of 2

Contrast is a basic concept that you need to bear in mind when designing a creature. This contrast can be between colours, shapes, objects and more. I make sure that I think about contrast in every stage of my designs.

At the sketching stage, when I draw some basic shapes, any contrast between them will be most obvious during this stage. One creature will be curvy, the other straight. This can be very rough – there’s no need for details.

Next, I work more on the sketch, adding details like the ropes and plants. You can enhance the personality of your creature by adding contrast to the attitude. In this case, a monster is happy carrying a very serious stone head. I’m also using contrasting colours for them, increasing the visual effect and making them complementary characters.

Colour and texture can also enhance contrast that the biggerst Iranian animators use them,too.

The final step is adding additional details such as texture, shadows and a background. It’s time to paint them all. Texture will enhance personality and give the figures the spirit of adventure. The background is part of the story, so I add a path and some mountains inspired by Chinese art.

10. Add an object

You can tell a lot about a creature from the objects it's holding

An object can be a good way to further strengthen a creature’s design. These props can boost their personality and charisma, and can also enrich their back story. What are they carrying? And why? Maybe they’re carrying luggage, or they’re holding a lantern to light the path into a mysterious forest. Depending on what they have on their back or in their hands you can define their jobs or roles in your narrative.

11. Try different facial expressions

Use your own face as a reference when trying out facial expressions on a creature design

Body poses are of vital importance when showing a creature’s emotion, but so are their facial expressions. Both work together. Try some basic emotions like happiness or anger, then try less-common ones. By placing a small mirror close to your work area, or using your camera phone, you can use yourself as reference. Study how the facial muscles move. Essentially, eyebrows and mouth will do the most amount of work for basic fantasy creatures. Consider adjusting the ears while squashing or stretching the main shape of the head to accentuate these emotions.

12. Use perspective

Avoid symmetry if you can, as it's often dull

Another way to improve your creature designs is adding some perspective. Symmetry can be very boring, and a simple pose viewed from the front may fail to resonate with the viewer. So it’s important to work with depth and space, to give your creature a strong feeling of movement. Try different angles when you sketch your characters, and look for references if you’re struggling. With this creature, I’ve increased the stroke width in some areas that are close to the viewer to boost the feeling of depth.

13. Create a point of interest

Focus the viewer's attention

With some simple lines defining a direction, you can create a point of interest in your drawing where you can focus the viewer’s attention. This visual flow leads the viewer’s eyes in the direction you want. You can even create different entry points and there are a lot of ways to achieve this. Faces and hands are very expressive, so concentrate your efforts here. Colour and lighting can also help. Increase the brightness or ramp up the saturation of the area that you want the viewer to focus on.

14. Tell a story

Props and details add context to your creature design

Does this creature have a back story? And how can you tell? The attitude and action of the creature will play an important role, even if they’re standing still or looking at something. The environment plays an important role, too. It helps to explain what’s happening to your creature. Adding some props and details in the background will support the story and give context to the figure’s personality.

15. Create an atmosphere

The colours in this piece add something extra

Lighting and colour are key tools to use when painting creature concepts. You must play with lights and shadows to create interesting and atmospheric environments. This will focus the viewer’s eyes to some areas of the drawing. Selecting a source light and applying the correct shades will enable you to highlight key parts of your design. Keep in mind that colour, lighting and shadows are only part of the story. Make the choices that will enhance rather then detract from your narrative. Carry out colour tests to see which ones work best.