#i used for reference the pic of Ewan

[dontbelasagnax]

Ok fine! You’ve convinced me! I’ll learn how to draw specifically so I can draw codywan kissing, you’ve spread your gospel successfully

…

How do you draw tho fr cuz I can doodle like, funky lookin birds but people is fully out of my depth send help

AAAA HELL YEAHHHH!!!!! LET'S GOOOO!!!!!

You've opened a can of worms asking me for art advice so *cracks knuckles* buckle up.

I sort of (only a little bit) use the Loomis method for easy head drawing. Here is a playlist of YouTube videos by Proko. Highly, highly recommend that channel for your art tutorial needs!

I start with a circle. For side profiles, I draw a line down the side of the circle to determine where the features will sit upon. I draw a triangular shape to mark where the orbital socket is. Around the middle point of the circle is where the jawline ends and the ear begins so draw a line there. There are proportion rules which are good guidelines when starting out in art but since I've been doing this my entire life, I have a feel for things and just wing it. That's to say, I put in a line implying the jaw based on vibes.

Next, I draw the eyebrows and brow ridge. Then the nose. I find I majorly base my proportions on this area so if anything is off, it throws the rest of the face off.

Then I draw the lips and chin... or in Obi-Wan's case, his beard. I will mark in his sideburns and hairline as well. Now, about ears: generally the top of the ear begins right around the top of the eyebrow and stops at the base of the nose. At this point I like to draw his eye, define the cheekbone, and refine the eyebrow. I'll finish scribbling in hair and that's it!

(Cody is much the same but I forgot to take useful progress pics 😂)

Extended Art Advice 👇

Tip #1: Draw lightly. Do not ever grip your pencil tight. This only leads to pain. You will notice I didn't erase at all. This is partly because I know what marks to make because I've done it a million times before and also because my lines are soft enough I can make lots of them and choose to deepen the ones that work.

Tip #2: Practice, practice, practice. Artistic skill is just loads and loads of accumulated knowledge and muscle memory from practice. This sounds boring but, in reality, you should make it fun.

Tip #3: Draw from observation/USE REFERENCE! The only reason I can get away without using reference when I'm feeling lazy is because I've drawn the same things over and over enough times it stuck. Aka I did lots of practice.

Now, to combine all these tips together, let's talk about how to use reference and how to make practice fun.

Reference is a huge aid when drawing at any point in your art journey. But I've found that in order to learn from what you're looking at, you need to think critically.

You obviously have something you want to draw. Reference helps you with that. You'll start out trying to draw what you see. Eventually you will run into an obstacle where you've messed up and things aren't looking good. This is to be expected. Every time this happens, think about what isn't working and find solutions with your reference. Analyze your subject to find your answers. Draw it again. Do not be afraid of failure. Each time you fail, you must look for a solution and this will lead you closer to your goal. This is how you grow as an artist.

I know, it sounds dreadfully boring and like a shit ton of work. It is a lot of work but you can make it fun! You love Obi-Wan and Cody so make Pinterest boards of Ewan McGregor and Temuera Morrison. Whatever you want to practice (may that be eyes, mouths, hands, hair, the face as a whole, etc) draw them. Ever hear tracing is bad? Fuck that. It's a perfectly valid tool to help you learn. If you're drawing digitally, pull up your reference in the art program of your choice, lower the opacity a little, make a new layer and trace what you see. I honestly find tracing to be very hard so when I've done this, I prefer to try to find shapes that will aid me when I'm actually drawing. If you're drawing traditionally, you can print out the photo and trace over it with a tracing paper or use a lightbox. You can also up the brightness on your computer screen and tape a piece of paper and trace that way.

Photos aren't the only references you can use! You can always look to your favorite artists' work and try to figure out how they do it. Often artists will break things down into more easily digestible shapes that will help you better understand how things work. Remember, if you ever copy or trace someone's art, it is for learning purposes only and you shouldn't post it. Feel free to take elements of people's art that you like and put your own spin on it though. For instance: I really love how this one artist draws men's tits so I studied a bunch of their art and now I'm much better at drawing them.

Oh and did you think you only get practice in while studying? Wrong! There's no reason you should shy away from trying to make the art you really want just because your skills aren't the most refined. Spoiler alert: you will grow the most when you push yourself out of your comfort zone. Draw codywan kissing. Draw it really enthusiastically and through profuse swearing and gritted teeth... but never a clenched hand. Don't hold back from the fun stuff just because it's hard. Aim high, land low, and shoot even higher next time.

In the beginning it will be especially frustrating. You'll feel like everything you make is a failure and nothing works out. You'll feel like you're not making any progress. Trust me, you are making progress and I believe in you.

If something really isn't working out and you find yourself growing distressed, take a break. It might last an hour or a week. Just take the break. Don't push it. Come back with fresh eyes and less stress. We all have days where nothing comes out right. Sometimes I can't even draw anything resembling a human face. It's okay. Whisper-yell expletives at your artwork and take the break. It will be okay.

With all that said, happy drawing and even happier codywan kissing!! 🧡💋🩵

#hope this helps!!! #(yes i did put my teaching hat on and break out my sketchbook to draw examples the moment i saw this in my inbox 😂) #ask box #lasagna rambles #my art #codywan

[lemonhemlock]

Lmao I think anon's "reddit leaker" is referring to Jory, who has attempted to leak info since like s6 of GOT and never gotten it right once. It’s funny because he started the Rook’s Rest in in episode 4, and yeah, maybe he’s right! But that’s where the rumour began. As someone who used to work on sets, I can tell you they’re very purposefully letting a lot of this info get out- even filming in public, there’s many ways to hide this stuff. So either they don’t care or they figure it’s not worth the trouble to try and keep the public from taking pics or video. Given how much they filmed in the woods, I’d wager it’s very possible for multiple eps and multiple directors to have been on set, like you said. Again, I’m not saying any of this info is incorrect- just that it’s not unusual to film many things in this same location back to back. They weren't just shooting battle content for three weeks. Ewan was on set but not dressed for filming, so it’s unclear what role Aemond was even playing there. We just saw them filming Criston’s reaction. I can’t claim to know when things are or aren’t happening, but as you can tell, people are convinced they’re 100% right about things that we can’t confirm. Redanian has been incorrect, as all spoiler accounts are eventually incorrect, it’s the nature of the business 🤷‍♀️

yeah, i think they must not care that much, since a lot of filming is also happening in the studio and that can radically shift whatever the outside narrative is anyway

they also perhaps want to let a few crumbs slip by as it maintains engagement during this long break

people arguing even over false leaks is to their advantage anyway as it keeps the show as a topic of conversation

#ask #anon #hotd speculation

[transmutationisms]

Related to Kendall and food and his body, it genuinely interests me (beyond the fact that Jeremy Strong is hot in that wanna bully him kinda way) that he gets the most shirtless scenes, an ass scene, the only “real” sex scene in the show where not even underwear stops him from eating out, and the most make out scenes, but he’s covered in shame 24/7, the manic hypersexuality comes from trauma, and the booty shot is him shitting himself.

cjbxzkcb.... okay yes.... let's spiral about this....

kendall's relationship with his body is so fascinating to me. on the one hand, he's sexually functional in the sense that he's, you know, capable of having sex. logan's ableism toward iverson does mean that he sees kendall as impotent (& simultaneously a whore), but textually, we know it to be the case that kendall fucks, and apparently well enough that his partners are enjoying themselves

at the same time, i'm so haunted by the scene in 2x07 when naomi asks kendall for a dick pic and he's completely baffled. he keeps asking her why, he has no frame of reference for what she would want with it (her answer: "i'm going to look at it and make an assessment"), and ultimately this moment leads to the reveal that kendall DOES NOT KNOW how to take a dick pic. like, he can use his dick with another person, but he's totally lost on the concept of that person actually wanting to LOOK at him in a very simple physical way. (as a side note, this scene takes place in logan's bathroom; kendall's other major scene in that bathroom is in 1x06 when he takes tom's call warning him about ewan being in town for the vote of no confidence... hmm)

anyway, his relationship with naomi is punctuated by his fling with jennifer, the actress he brings to dundee. i think this is where things really get interesting, because jennifer gets sent home not after she tells kendall he talks about his father a lot, but after she embarrasses herself in front of logan by saying the word "awesome" too many times. logan looks at her like, really? that's the best my son can come up with? and it's that transgression that kendall brings up with her before sending her home, lmao

the kids all want a kiss from daddy, kendall included. but kendall also really, really wants to replace daddy, and i think with jennifer we see that his sexual behaviour is part of that quest. like, part of what he's looking for when he seeks sexual relationships is the chance to act like logan, and kendall treats his own body as a tool he can use to get there. so if his relationship with jennifer isn't making him logan-like, it needs to go. compare that to the moments when he's trying not just to replace daddy, but to kill daddy: end of s1 (paired off with stewy) and most of s3 (paired off with naomi)

i think he sees fucking, both literal and metaphorical, as very instrumental, and his body is part of that. naomi might be the relationship most removed from logan (logan dislikes her, obviously, but i don't think that's the reason kendall goes back to her in s3) and she's also the one who 1) turns him on by calling him "nothing," but then 2) asks for the dick pic, forcing kendall to confront the fact that his body can be an object of desire, not just some kind of tool to use or erase. like, their relationship is not really tactical at all, on either end...

so it's also interesting that he doesn't bring her to tuscany. and in 3x08, shiv is the one best placed to symbolically become logan, whereas kendall deals with the ultimate betrayal from his body, in the sense that the pool incident, to him, is a physical vulnerability he simply refuses to psychologically unpack. he's so distant from his body (& the positive view of it he gets thru naomi's eyes) in tuscany, it actually tries to kill him

re: the ass shot. i've mentioned a few times before that i think flows of bodily fluids often have a cathartic/purgative effect on this show (esp for kendall), which i interpret in line with early modern humoural medicine, of the variety you find in shakespeare's plays. (the short version is i think kendall's generally unbalanced in the direction of melancholia, aka an excess of black bile; shitting yourself is one way to release some of that bile; i think 'tern haven' and naomi are a huge emotional release for kendall, represented bodily by shitting himself lmao). but yeah it is also interesting that there's a cheeky (pun intended) ass shot here... again walking that fine line between body-as-object and body-as-betrayal and body-as-site-of-pleasure

anyway, the food moments i always think of with kendall are the burger in 1x06, the unsuccessful meals with logan and nan in 2x04 and 2x06, the not-meal with aaronson in 3x04, and the not-poisoned dinner with logan in 3x08. because this is already insanely too long i'll just say that i think in each of these moments you can see kendall triangulating his eating with his conflicting desires to kill, become, or escape his father. it's so deliberate and meaningful for him, what he eats and with whom, and how he's jockeying around logan. (also the dinner in 3x08 gave us my absolute favourite line on this show, "you've turned black bile into silver dollars"). eating, on a literal level, is taking an external substance and assimilating it into your own body; no wonder it's an act that torments kendall, particularly whenever logan is involved

i do also think kendall's exercise habits play into this: the business bro early-morning workout routine; the time he tells rava "i did, like, 100 push-ups this morning" as a brag she doesn't respond to; the fact that he's on a treadmill when logan comes to him in 2x10 to ask for a meeting with stewy on axos (though the last one is also just symbolic of kendall being stuck in place, i think). again there's that desire to discipline himself physically, and the use of his body as a tool to become the person he wants to be—or at least the person he thinks he wants to be; the distinction is collapsed in his head imo

anyway this is way too fucking long lmao but yeah kendall's way of relating to his body, and how it's articulated through food and sexuality, is such a fascinating thread running through this show. he wants to be daddy and he thinks he can get there by acting, bodily, the way logan does. or he wants to kill daddy and he tries to flip it, using his body and sexuality as a site of rebellion. or he wants to escape daddy but to do that he has to first prove that he COULD kill daddy if he wanted to

and then of course all of this, from logan's end, just makes kendall more pathetic and weak and worthy of ridicule. i always think about that roman line, "the only way he'll respect you is if you try to destroy him, because in your position that's exactly what he would do." only what roman and kendall both fail to understand is that logan will never actually allow himself to be destroyed and he'll never actually respect them. he will go to his grave kicking and screaming and taking out kendall's knees with a baseball bat, and kendall will never be good enough no matter whom he fucks or what he eats. and kendall is never going to figure that out.

#vknjnvdkfjbnkdg #you eat me i eat you

[jacksonjb]

Production Update: Costume Design and Dressing my Star

In preparation leading up to my music video, one of the aspects that I wanted to focus heavily on was costume design. Though perhaps sometimes overlooked, costume design in film is a significantly important facet in my eyes. It allows for insight into personality, background and circumstance of the character before they even utter a word, and because in the case of my music video that luxury will not be afforded, I felt I would have to rely heavily on visual appearance and character aesthetic in order to communicate key, though minor details about my film's character.

Above are all various iterations of costume ideas I had. I wanted to document each one to get an impression of how they would look on video, as well as to have a quick look-book reference for my on the day shooting, being able to pic out what my actor should wear as quick as possible.

Costume Analysis

As can be seen, most of the costumes I had in mind were of a darker palette, and hopefully would be considered to have a little more of an urban feel, since that was a facet of the mise-en-scene of my MV that I wanted to emphasize. This grittiness I hope evoked and mirrored the sounds of my song, Risingson, and gave an additional layer of synergy between my visuals and audio.

A few of my influences for my costume are as follows:

Yohji Yamamoto and his designs are a huge influence, his layering, masterful creation of silhouettes and overall black colour palette can be seen in some of my costume designs. I wanted a key focus on an all-black silhouette, given that my MV was shot in B&W, I felt it would accentuate and compliment the moodier cinematography.

Further inspirations include Marlon Brando, seen here on the set of One Eyed Jack's, particularly his jacket and jeans styling which, despite being used for a period piece, I wanted to replicate, feeling that it would seem quite at home in certain segments of my MV.

The film Trainspotting also had a significant impact on my costume, specifically Ewan McGregor's character, whose long shirts and tight jeans were quite an atmospheric plus.

The costume design and styling of Michiko Kitamura also were quite influential for my work. Though the direct parallels most likely cannot be seen in my own designs, her approach and visual flair certainly gave me some inspiration in terms of creativity and freedom in my costume designs.

Conclusion

All in all there were a number of stylistic influences that I took for the process of my costume design. It was one of the more fun parts of the whole prep for my MV! Considering at this stage there are still a few more shoots for my music video, there may even be a second part to my costume design process posts. I learnt a great deal about an area of art I was already interested in, and had a lot of fun making my own contributions to the fashion sphere, as well as having a personal and enjoyable meaning in doing so.

[ciaomichaella]

It’s still #StarWarsDay so the #MayThe4th celebrations continue. We all know how much more I love the Germans now after meeting them at Curling Night In America and #WMCC2022 and while none of them have dead ringer lookalikes in the #StarWars universe in the way that 🐐 Niklas Edin looks like Ewan McGregor (see previous post), the Germans are actually the more fandom appropriate curling team for today since my friends and I dressed up as #BabyYoda to cheer them on in Las Vegas (amazing how far “but it’s my birthday trip” can go when your friends really know and love you). The force wasn’t just with @teamtotzek that draw, they scored THREE 3-enders that game! Let’s see how long I can resist making Baby Yoda references aimed at @sixten.totzek 😜 #MayThe4thBeWithYou #MayTheFourth #MayTheFourthBeWithYou #Grogu . . I can’t find the original post on Twitter so I can’t properly credit them, but thanks to the person who was on the other side of the arena who posted the pics of my friends and I dressed up in our Baby Yoda onesies as Mukki glided past us (3rd pic). I really hope the @usa_curl powers that be invite @teamdeutschland_curling for #CurlingNightInAmerica tv taping again 🙏🤞 I may actually get on a plane for a weekend getaway unless they have it in Irvine again where I curl every Thursday for league (highly doubtful but a fangirl can dream). . . 🥌❤️🇩🇪🥌❤️🇩🇪🥌❤️🇩🇪🥌❤️🇩🇪 #TeamTotzek #TeamGermany #SixtenTotzek #MarcMuskatewitz #JoshSutor #DominikGreindl #Deutschland #curling #wintersports #TeamD #Germans #Germany #TeamDeutschland #HardlineNation 🥌❤️🇩🇪🥌❤️🇩🇪🥌❤️🇩🇪🥌❤️🇩🇪 https://www.instagram.com/p/CdJce4JPBb7/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#starwarsday #maythe4th #wmcc2022 #starwars #babyyoda #maythe4thbewithyou #maythefourth #maythefourthbewithyou #grogu #curlingnightinamerica #teamtotzek #teamgermany #sixtentotzek #marcmuskatewitz #joshsutor #dominikgreindl #deutschland #curling #wintersports #teamd #germans #germany #teamdeutschland #hardlinenation

[tumbrlnonbannarmipls]

Usually I don't post my drawings, but ... I just wanted to share this because I was laughing so much while I was drawing it.

Pax is one of my many OC, a Jedi knight that really likes to not follow the rules of the Jedi.

#star wars #art #my art #the clone wars #clone wars #captain rex #arc trooper fives #OC #Pax #YES #i used for reference the pic of Ewan #can i say reference? #mmm #who knows

[lordvaders]

AotC Obi-Wan promotional picture || TCW Obi-Wan S7xE10

#obi wan kenobi #ewan mcgregor #i knew when i saw the shot #they took that pic as reference #it was a damn good pose to pass off #good to know tcw creators go as hard as us for obiwan #lol #tcw #tcw spoilers #ish? #aotc #*my edit #obiwanedit

[eletainart]

And to go with my Victorian AU Maul, here you have Obi-Wan as well. A young aspiring actor trying to make his way thru the world.

There´s one easteregg somewhere in the drawing. Don´t even have to look that closely for it this time.

Used lots of pics of young Ewan as a reference for his hair because I have a very soft spot for that gorgeous ginger mane. Makes me always wonder just how extra hot and cute Obi could have been in TPM if they didn´t cut his hair short.

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan art #obi wan fanart #star wars #star wars art #star wars prequels #au #star wars au #victorian au #my art #art #artist #artists on tumblr

[highsviolets]

breathless, chapter 3: an obi-wan x 90s!reader au

summary: in which you and Ben discover that nothing is like the first time, but maybe time is a construct anyway

word count: 3.2k+ 

cw: kissing. light references to smoking, a lil angst, some language  

A/N: this could not have happened without @afogocado​. Thank you for encouraging me to continue this lil fic and an endless supply of ewan pics and listening to me ramble and omg ilysm 

 references // previous // next // series masterlist 

“my curfew’s at midnight.”

Ben doesn’t look at you when he speaks. Well, he does. Just not right now. He’s busy at the moment, tinkering with something in the hood of his car. hunter green t-shirt — auburn hair — something out of goddamn salinger novel ((or maybe dos passos))

you look up at him. you’re settled on a skateboard ((he’s far too trusting of your ability to remain upright)). listless currents from a fan — somewhere, in the garage, you think — ripple in that nomadic space between his t-shirt and your skin.

remarks are so curious a thing, and you watch yours descend upon him. not quite a cascade. not quite a pittance of cleansing summer rains. it’s something other — but not ethereal — it’s here, it’s now, it’s taking you, too, holding you in thrall — words bump into skin ((sinew and sin)).

“it’s about doing the right thing.” the grind of one metal locking its relatives, corollaries, corrosions, into place has ceased. or maybe only paused. you’re not sure the car is done. but Ben looks at you, and you know he’s done. done explaining himself.

the skateboard’s wheels squeak and cry out against the pavement when you adjust. legs stretched out — ragged vans pointing above ((wherever that is)) — violet tipped hands clutching the back edges — knees exposed — just kissing the faintness of tangible ((affection or affectations, what’s the difference?))

“i know.” freckles gaze into the sun, his eyes, reflections. he expects your explanation to be plaintive. institutional. it’s not. “i just wanted to know why.”

Ben shakes his head, once, twice, thrice — face still half-soaked in the shadow of the hood — astonishment is plain to see in the flatness of his cheeks — the waltzing of his tongue on his upper lip.

Two seconds later he is right there, crouching ((muscles straining)) next to you, the leather tips of air jordans exotic and smooth against the external lateral bone of your left knee. His eyes, screwed up at the invasion of the sun against their tranquility, stare at the meeting of his shoes and your body and then he is gazing at you.

angels manipulate his mouth into a smile — Ben’s yours, now — hands are clasped — battles halt in the ceasefire. “I should really stop underestimating you.”

Ben reaches out. Two fingers ride the length of your cheekbone. They still as skin morphs into frizzled, sun-bleached hair at the crown of your head, in that space between your ear and eyebrow. your head nudges into his terms of surrender. “That would probably be best,” you say. The pause between conditional tense and adverb is like the space between you and him, an assured hesitancy, caught between becoming and being, trapped in an interstitial existence.

it’s so fucking americana it hurts.

hair , secured by a scrunchie the same shade as your fingertips, is given a light tug. let’s get you home, he says, and your presence wilts in upon itself , he senses the rush of photosynthesis exiting your body and brings your lips to caress his.

it doesn’t feel like the first time — nothing ever does — familiar in semantics — murky in meaning — singeing and sweet — a transfusion of significance between you and him.

the breaking away comes with a solemn sigh. he’s rising and bringing you with him. you resist the urge to stage a coup and use the skateboard to rocket yourself into his arms ((a safehouse you’ve found)).

___

time: a nebulous concept for you. it’s pages dogeared and how many days until the next cd is shipped to the store and how many t-shirts you’ve accosted from oaken drawers.

it’s a far more solid object for him. a tangible weave of textures and patterns that he notices in the scrunchies now in the car’s island of misfits ((he still hasn’t told you the make and model)) and how many times you guide his hand around your waist while you eat ice cream ((vanilla in a cone with sprinkles)) and the pens he’s busted through since you first met ((he knows the number , they’re immortalized in a tin cup on his shelf))

Ben’s holding one that has yet to join its brothers in the tin graveyard. The clicker rests against his teeth. It looks seductive in his mouth. Like he can make you keen with just an imitation of the real thing, with words and ideas. Words twirled around the air have power. You both know this.

You’re the one who’s twirling, though. spinning around his bedroom — boombox emitting a Billy Joel song at least ten years mature — mouth forming words you have yet to possess the courage to blare — so much like your kisses.

((the words come through in the translation , the body moves but he hears the soul))

he watches you and he is transfixed. he knows you do not know how much you are revealing to him. at least not consciously. but you want him to crawl into your soul and never leave. he does not see it or hear it or feel it as much as he experiences truth, the clumsy trio dotting patterns across his extremities and seeping into his essence ((what it means to be human)) like an antibiotic ointment. he is scared you will stick to things for which you are not designed. but it’s too late and he’s covered in the stuff, slick with you. unleashed in a trigonometric function of three sides ((him / you , other)). sins and signs and echoing sunlight.

your smile mimics his as you edge toward the bed where he’s sprawled out. you laugh and he matches you, shaking his head in rare & unguarded ((unabashed , unembarrassed)) regard. you are in harmony.

skin meets skin — heels arched into the carpet — he’s too strong too stubborn — and you fail and fall and spill over him — tumbling over his torso, legs mashed — the heat of his victorious grin burns the atmospheric bubble arching over the two of you.

You’re not sure if the record stops or if you’ve just ceased hearing it. he arranges you ((like a bouquet, like a song)) on the bed. he stares down at you. the eyes are stormy again, like before he kissed you the first time ((but nothing’s ever like the first time)). they say eyes are the window to the soul. Your hands whisk the hair that’s dangling there, like you can quiet him by quelling his independently-minded locks. it seems to work. he blinks and when you see the sun again it’s brighter, bluer, but maybe that’s because he’s so still now.

he does not move. He may not have danced but his soul is pressing into you like a dagger ((did you fall on a sword)). Ben cuts off your impending speech with conciliatory kiss. “i know , darling” , and the words etch themselves into reality against your body.

—-

Ben is distant and he is near to you all at once. There are corners of his being that you want to slide and drag and push to the surface. maybe if you do he will start to make sense. form follows function, he tells you, and the words feel as yellow as the pages on which they’re inked.

it doesn’t make sense to you — “you have too much sense, dear one” — elinor and marianne — but for all his purity he does not dance — no ricochets in his lever and pulley soul.

you are glass and flannel and he is steel and silk. he is not quite your sun, or your moon, or your stars, and not even your world. but you are rapidly terraforming to his sundry heights and arid permafrost and the devil’s sun that makes a home in his fingers, in his mouth ((yet he is not lucifer, nor abdiel perhaps he is raphael)).

Ben watches you soak in him. He takes note, n.b., nota bene, notes well, excellently, the stillness of your hands ((the tremors have lessened, but have they learned?)). your words are teal and vermillion and ecru and weeping with tannins. Ben deduces ease, easel, paint, art as you furrow into his chest. His mind infers souls through their bodies. Form follows function. Function follows form. Maybe it’s all the same, and Maybe It Isn’t.

Through your mirror he sees himself with you but he does not comprehend. He is bewildered.

nails boards cones sheets — teeth fingers knees breath — swerving form yielding function clutching grasping — all so very , sine qua non — aspectu sine logos — why does the latin transform into Greek

Morpheus, he thinks, nods sagely. he hurls ticket stubs and lipstick napkins and sense ((you)) into shoeboxes and mailboxes and shadowboxes. he refuses a photo of you, with you, for you and takes your knotted eyes and throws them, too, into the nearest body of water. you are close but you are not near ((droplets on tanned skin, drowning in the water)) and it is all he can do to obey his life and he does not know that sartre laughs at him and de beauvoir pokes her lover.

you are not at the middle of your life and neither is he. the path is still obscured by the trees. is charon delivering you to this threshold of the styx ((stones, bones, death)) or the tip of the world where the stars scrape into the heavens with a different edge? he is rising: he brings you with him. so it was in the past, but does the past presage the future? if he is raphael then he is virgil ((Maybe it’s all the same, and Maybe It Isn’t))

epic firestorm of righteous creation myths — empirical histories — imperial truths. but no. dante, where is dante, is he off in firenze, dancing in florid colors? no. dante is in exile, civitas ex nihilo : in need of virgil. guide him to transcendence.

____

you do not see him for several days. maybe it is weeks. you aren’t sure. time is not empirical, Ben has told you, it’s something you have to feel through its measuring ((sometimes vibrancy tips out of his ridges)). but you wish he had let you take a picture of the two of you. you are more like him than you realize , the truest truths are the ones you can touch.

it is the longest you have not seen him, and it is very hot. the pool, the lake, they’re not the same when you can’t thread sand through his hair and be abducted by his gaze as you read ((spirited away from his bookshelf)).

you’re running out of books — running out of time? — but time is not statistical — multidimensionality of you and him — there is no space where he does not compress himself to exist with you.

“it’s not a phase, mom,” you say, and take another bite of cereal.

“you need to make up your mind.” the crunch is effective at blocking out the noise, and your mind continues on its path. you wonder if DJ Tanner ever felt like this. hair surfaces in your bowl, and you pluck it out, grimacing. Maybe you should cut your hair. it’s hot out. DJ had short hair.

a rap on the table — spoon? knuckle? you can’t tell — strikes you. the words reality and wake up and decisions and wasteful are abrasions on your knees, still sore from too many tries on Ben’s skateboard ((he had smiled at your earnestness and kissed away the latent tears , let your body do its healing)).

you do not speak words so much as you give birth to emotions, agonizing and cruel and hideous. you do not know what you say or if you even say it ((dissociation)). but it is metallic in your mouth and turncoat shaking fingers and the sinking sound of unharnessed emotion in your ears.

it is hot and stifling and too much when you leave. nothing is feeling right — that stillness has lodged in your diaphragm again — opaque skies mock you — rain comes and you are colliding with nature and you are losing

Ben is standing underneath the overhang at the library ((it always comes back to the library)) and you wonder if you’re finally hallucinating. you voice forms itself to his name and he turns, damp hair following a few seconds later, and he drops his cigarette at the sight of you.

Exhilaration delivers specks of mud on your legs and arms but it is no matter. the time and space continuum has rectified and he is in front of you, giving you a cigarette, gray t-shirt abstracting to his muscles as much as your vans cling languidly to soggy toes.

he exhales smoke the way he says your name. it is precise and pious and it blooms over you like pink and purple hydrangeas.

Ben sees the gouges in your eyes and chastises your traitorous hands and absorbs you. cigarettes slump, abandoned, as he presses your cheek to his heart ((the conjunction of your logic and heat meeting his fervent center)). you cling to him and he does not resist but molds himself to you. time stops ((it’s an illusion)). rain continues. Ben’s kisses glide along your hairline, your forehead. it tickles and you laugh and his smile takes shape against your frontal cortex.

you pull him into the rain even as he protests ((but he’s laughing and the clouds pause, time takes a breath , are you time)) and you kiss him. it is like something breaks in him or perhaps the rain has induced erosion or maybe he is like you and there is a filigree thread connecting his head with his heart and constructing a railway through his body. Ben is all the lightning — the sky has crowned a new Zeus —  you hold him as the thunder in his soul cracks and pulls

((maybe kant was wrong about time and heidegger was right about dwelling and nothing crystallizes in his soul like you do))

the two of you alight to his car ((still unknown yet cordial, native)) and when you reach his building he opens your door and scoops you up in his arms and it is like that first time by the pool ((but nothing is ever like the first time)).

your hand makes a fist in his soggy shirt and his hair is pasted to his forehead and you cannot censor the searing, violent, desideratum swooping over you ((nor can you pause the absurd laugh that gushes out of your heart at his display of exorbitant chivalry)).

“i can walk,” you say as he wades through water that’s now folding over his skin, lapping up his electrolytes.

“yes, dearest, but you can’t swim, can you?” he likes to respond with questions, but this one’s  an answer. Ben’s clutching you so tightly that you can’t see his face but you feel the contentment in his tone—it dashes into you like the rain currently encompassing the Earth, hesitant with the effort of exertion, with the weight of metal souls. “I’m just preemptively forbidding a disaster, darling.” there’s a tenderness bridging Ben’s raw power and mischievousness —  the network protrudes — extracorporeal ((does he know?))

He cherishes the rain, Ben tells you later, when existence reduces to you and him and incandescent petrichor and the pasticcio of kisses, heartbeats, palms on skin.

___

Ben is not carefree, but he is not serious. it is like he has learned that he can take up space ((empirical)). there is less constriction, tension, stenosis in his body ((the filigree is stretching his limbs)). movements are not languid but nor are they demonstrations of correctness. not slouching — just not strictly upright.

your hair gets tangled, like his sheets, like his legs in yours, and you tell him you want to cut it. An auburn eyebrow lifts archly, and he runs a finger down the length of your arm, tracing the veins ((your life)). “how will I teach you how to swim if you chop off your legs, darling?” Ben’s voice is charcoal. gray, yellow red orange burning, glowing at the edges. He draws up blueprints for cities in your open palm.

You make a quip about the ship of state and he snorts. When he shakes his head, his other hand — the one not serving as an architect on your body — shags through his hair, tanned skin meeting with copper effervescence in a ragged tryst. “i like its hows” he murmurs against your lips and you cannot protest, not when his caustic tongue ices, soothes, pacifies your conflagration.

The two of you are at the pool, again. He’s on his break. The air’s circulation is viscous, shoving over your skins. It straps you in — like the fanny pack around his waist. Ben’s donned his lifeguard pack for work, swapping out his array of gauche accessories for the traditional red and white accoutrement now fastened at his hips.

the most important things in his life, Ben thinks as he inhales the light spice of a Malboro, start with “l”. learning, lady, library, liberty, lake, logos, love. he doesn’t know from where last word originates; he must learn ((connaître ou savoir?)). in his experience, there’s no such thing as luck. He feels like a character in one of those war movies filmed right before he was born, smoking lucky strikes in a foxhole and just trying to stay alive, goddamnit, just trying to get through the war.

The two of you are always watching each each other. The obtuse phenomenology plays out like a courtly masquerade. veritas, quid est veritas, for here both object and deception are degrees of truth. He smirks around the cigarette and you blush but your eyes hold his and you catch his approval and stuff it inside your heart.

Ben takes your hand and places it on his thigh as you speak. the two of you are straddling a lacquered yellow beach chair, offensive in its self-confidence. he leans forward and touches his forehead to yours. he likes to take initiative — he is making use of his knowledge, he told you once, mumbled and sleepy, when you had whispered the question against his shoulder late one night.

Ben brings himself nearer to you. sweat — splashes — dangling exertions — smoke — sunscreen. it all plays about your lips and in your blood and in his hands that keep yours pressed against his flesh. someone yells at him to get his ass back to work and Ben rolls his eyes.

“duty calls.” his actions, the chair: they embolden you to dip your voice, your thoughts, mayhap you actions to a lower register.

He ducks his head to peer at your face, like that first time when you were falling over ((but nothing is like the first time)). as he passes the remainder of the cigarette to you, the words he speak sound like him, carry his weight, refracted starlight from coal. “we all have a duty. even you.” Ben doesn’t need to say his duties; they are his life, his schedule, the notebooks in haphazard stacks under the bed, his tin cups of pens. you wonder if you are part of his list ((if the cables have let you traverse the journey from his heart to his head)).

when you tell him that he is diamond but you a like one of those new gems they make in labs — what are they called — moissanite, he shakes his head. “you are not so scientific, darling.” fingers squeeze yours. “you are burning skies and delimitations and biting stars — the most natural things that exist.”

((you are not sure if you believe him, because nothing is like the first time)).

#obi-wan x reader #obi wan x reader #obi-wan x you #obi wan x you #obi-wan imagine #usernobie #fic: breathless #afogocado #i had so much fun writing this #am v emo for ben kenobi #can he pls kiss me in the rain #(that's all i want) #is this an idfic? #idec #cris writes

[hackedmotionart]

Kind of a weirdly specific question to ask, but do you have any advice for drawing leather biker-style jackets? I notice you draw them in a lot of your stuff and they always turn out great. I have a male OC that wears one and I can always get the top part/collar right but something about the bottom and the way it's supposed to sort of interact with/hang off of the torso while unzipped is really weird to draw and I always end up making it like hug the skin in weird ways. Adore your art btw!!

Hi! Sorry late reply. I love costuming and I wanted to answer this properly.

I A D O R E leather jackets/biker jackets. And a lot of my understanding of jackets comes from knowing how real leather works vs fake leather/pleather/vinyl. Leather is generally very heavy. So its not going to fold or lay the same way a regular jacket or even vinyl will lay. 

So first stop REFERENCE! If you own a leather jacket or a biker jacket try that thing on and look at it in the mirror. Then look at what its doing to your clothes/undergarments. 

If you don’t own a leather jacket (like a lot of people lol. I own a fake one from forever 21) google or pinterest! Pinterest is both a blessing and a curse. Its a curse for unsourcing artists BUT is a REALLY good way to put together visual research quickly. I just used google for this so here’s some pics I thought were useful 

So a thing to remember is typically people wear light clothes under leather jackets. Real leather like I said is very thick with an intent to protect as well as look just dang cool. Ewan is an avid bike rider so he’s usually wearing it for bike purposes. Wearing a big sweater or a flouncy shirt under a leather jacket is just going to be uncomfortable.

Leather and fake leather typically hang straight down unless they’ve got a belt at the bottom to cinch in.

So going off of your question about how it would hang it basically would hang straight down and a little away falling off of the chest muscles. Depending on whether the jacket is a very form fitting jacket or if its k inda loose to begin with will add to that as well.

So you’ve got your reference here’s a very minimal tutorial. There’s a lot about fabric and costume drawing theory I’m skipping over.

But typically for any sort of costume. Understanding the form underneath is important. You can fudge it later once you’ve got enough practice at it but its more believeable to just lay in a sketch or a light drawing of the figure on its own. You don’t have to go crazy into detail just remember where the bigger or muscles that are interacting are. 

And then on another layer or if you’re using the same sketch layer draw in that jacket.

Points to remember is where is the fabric being stressed/stretched. Where is interacting with the form. Remember that bottom hems typically move out and up if the arms are outstretched. Even if its zipped the rest of the jacket will still move even if its minimally.  An open jacket is fun to play with with action so don’t be afraid to fake it a little. Don’t go to town on the wrinkles because Leather is a heavy fabric and while it will remember wrinkles in elbows typically it just sorta hangs there. There’s always folds on the sleeves or where the body bends. Don’t forget the details so if it has a zipper remember that zippers have two parts. Buttons and seams are going to make it a more believable leather jacket. 

Example if you’re drawing jeans as opposed to suit pants jeans have reinforced seams because they’re originally intended for heavy duty work where as a suit is typically worn in an office so the seams are cleaner and often hidden. Leather jackets fit into the first group like jeans and since the fabric is so heavy seams are pretty obvious and prominent. Buttons are typically big because they have to penetrate through the heaviness of the jacket. Even fake leather jackets have big buttons/zippers/seams to replicate the look of an authentic leather jacket.

I think that’s the short and skinny of it without getting into a 14 week class on fabric lol. Hope that helps!!

#reference #shitter