#LOOK AT HIM I ADD THE WRINGLES..

[gloomedhands]

endless edits of Dakara Sak'oan

[guruan]

Do you have any "art hack" for drawing Oscar Isaac? He's surprisingly complicated to draw man and you draw him just exactly how he looks IRL

Aaah, it's hard to point only one "art hack" since his face it's a combination of his features...

But I'll try to simplify it so let's start:

Before starting anything, grab all the reference you can!! Every angle you can find: side profiles, 3/4, front, etc.

If something goes wrong in your process, you can always check your references and try to understand what's off (plus- you start to train your eye for Oscar likeness ✨)

So, what you need to understand is: his eyes, nose, and headshape (and maybe the eyebrows?)

What matters about his eyes is his eyelid! How your draw eyes or your style in general doesn't matter that much as long as you keep the heavy eyelid.

Note that at the end of it, he has a little curve upwards (but depending on your style, doesn't matter if you don't want to keep it)

His nose in side profile has a little bounce (idk how to call it? 😂) so you have the first curve, and your stop where the tip of his nose starts

The tip of his nose you can shape it as a round triangle in side profile, and as a round diamond when it's frontal angle (also, a tiny little mark in the middle of his nose in that angle)

Depending on your character (or like- how old was Oscar at that point?) you can add small wringles at the sides of his nose. You can also use them if he's wrinkling his nose or making a particular expresion.

I'm not quite sure how to describe his headshape... like an octagon that was cut in half? haha

The edges that connect the centre (his chin) together, can look longer depending on the angle of the face.

Also! Details, but also he has prominent cheekbones and his earlobes shape is more noticeable in a frontview.

You don't need to add the cheekbones to make you drawing to look enough like him, but it's a nice touch

I'm pretty simple with my eyebrows, but what's important it's the general shape. For him I use like a scalene triangle shape? but softer

He has thick eyebrows! so try to keep that in mind

So add those things and there you go! An Oscar Isaac 😂

Don't feel discouraged if it doesn't look enough like him when you try, even I move things around until I get it (eternally affected by my anime style and keep drawing faces too long for men 😂🤣)

Hope this helps ❤

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

out of love by alessia cara + calum for that lovely angst

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____________________________

Routines

He first notices it in himself. 

It doesn’t set off the alarm suddenly. Ashton’s really the first one to see it. He asks about you, how you are settling into the new job, and when Calum answers with a placid good, Ashton gives him a look. Like how could good be the only word that Calum had when it came to you. But Ashton doesn’t push it, he nods and says that he’s glad you’re happy with your job and in a place more aligned with what you wanted. 

Calum can’t seem to recall when you started the new job. But it couldn’t have been for more than a day or two. He had just taken you out for dinner as a celebration. Calum excuses himself to the bathroom, racking his brain because surely he wasn’t going insane. But when he scrolls through the text messages from you, he sees the dinner was nearly two and a half weeks go. It’s just his memory, with the latest album things have started to blur just a little and he can’t seem to keep anything straight anymore. 

Calum fucks up the routine. 

Not that he meant it maliciously. There’s an order to the day that you’ve gotten accustomed to. You waking first and cook breakfast. Calum sluggishly pulls himself to at least have his morning coffee with you--you go to work. He catches up on emails, takes Duke out for his walk if he manages not to doze off again, goes to the studio. You get back--there’s always a note left in Calum’st mostly uppercase penmanship if Duke needs a walk. You relax, fix dinner. Calum comes homes, reheats his plate if it’s gone late, you two talk, laughing at the dining room table as you sip on tea. 

Calum doesn’t come down for his morning coffee once. You sit, bag at your feet with ten minutes before you have to leave for work. And you sit, and sit, and sit, wringling your thumbs and picking at your nails. The bedroom door never creaks open. 

In the car, your phone rings. Calum’s name and photo on the screen. “I know you haven’t left yet. Get out of the car so I can give you your morning kiss.” His voice is gruff, still thick with sleep. You bite your lip and laugh, heart-expanding at the fact that you didn’t have to leave Calum without your morning kiss. 

You leave the car running, and jump back out. Calum stands, sans shirt but in sweatpants, on the porch. Duke, who you took out earlier, wagging his tail at his feet. Calum’s clearly tired, eyes puffier than usual. The close crop can’t really be fussed about, but as the length slowly grows back you can see it’s flattened from his sleep. He flashes a quick smile and an open embrace. “Morning,” you laugh, kissing him quickly. 

“Morning. You look good by the way.” He gives you another kiss, to make up for him oversleeping. “Have a great day.”

You nod. “You too rockstar.” 

When your car pulls out of the driveway and down the block, Calum steps back into the house. He hums, still tired and collapses onto the couch. There’s not a lot of guilt, mostly just thoughts of sleep. 

Around one that day his phone buzzes. A picture from you of the latest addition in dogs you see on your lunch break. He replies with a couple heart eye emojis, grinning at the stern-looking German shepherd. Cutest bub around, he types. 

Don’t let them hear you say that. Looks like they wouldn’t take too kindly. Love you, babe. 

Love you too. He goes to send the text but his fingers take pause. When’s the last time he called you doll? He used to use it all the time. Calum erases his period and adds a coma before his fingers add more. Love you too, doll. 

Calum really knows something is happening when you take pause at the bedroom door. His duffel bag, unzipped, and half full. Your voice cracks as you speak. “What are you doing?” You don’t want the scene to send you into a panic but you have no clue why Calum would be packing a suitcase, without warning. He always gave you a week’s notice at the very least--sometimes shows and events kind of popped up. 

“The writing retreat?” He could’ve sworn he told you about the four day trip up the coast. Not going out of the state at all, just a few hours out of the way. It was in the works since last week. Why would he not bring it up to you? 

“The what? How long?”

“I--I told you. It’s only four days. Going up the coast just to write for a little bit. Some guys up there want in a couple tracks. I told you this, baby.”

“No, you didn’t.” 

“Yes, I did. I had to have told you.” But he can see the tears welling in your eyes and the way your lower lip has started to wobble. “Please, please God tell me I told you?”

You shake your head. Throat seizing up on you. God, you wanted to feel stupid for thinking he was leaving--nevermind the fact this was his house. But lately, over the last few months, things felt different, off, distant. It wasn’t the end, you told yourself. It couldn’t have been. Calum always made things up, he was imperfect like everyone else. But not telling you about having to go away, it’s the final straw. 

Calum steps over his bag, arms lifting to cradle you. You take a small step back, with a shake of your head. It hurts to swallow, the squeezing in your chest is not helping. “You don’t talk to me anymore.” The admission is choked as it leaves your lips. You haven’t let out a full sob, but you feel it beating at your lungs and ribs. 

“I’m sorry. I just forgot.”

The look Ashton gave Calum months ago comes flooding back. The heaviness to his eyes, the pull of his brow. Ashton wasn’t confused. Calum was the last to realize it. He was the last one to see the thing happening. If this had been a bad dream, Calum would’ve woken with a cold sweat. When his mouth gapes and his eyes pull together, you turn, clutching your sleeves into your fist to wipe your eyes. 

“Wait, please!”

He still loved you. He did. He still loved you. 

But he hadn’t call doll in ages. He didn’t hold your hand in bed anymore. He didn’t drink his morning coffee with you. He hummed when you talked about work. He hadn’t even meant to do this. It’s not even like Calum felt bored--maybe a little bogged down. But not bored. Things were so good.

You can’t even hide in the house before you turn the corner to the spare bedroom, Calum’s gently taking your elbow to slow you down. What was happening? What was he doing wrong? “Talk to me now. Please?”

That sob, finally makes itself known, scratching over your throat. You pull your joint of his grasp but don’t face him. You can feel the heat of him on your back as he stands, inches, maybe even centimeters behind you, but have no physical contact. “You haven’t had breakfast with me in two months.”

“I have--two months?”

You nod. “You haven’t called about being late home. I still fix you dinner though, knowing that you’re not going to show up until whatever wee hour in the morning. You used to buy me flowers just for no reason and even though I seemed to kill each one with just a look, you kept buying them.”

Calum racks his brain. He bought some. It couldn’t have been all that long ago. He bought some for Valentine’s Day and then more a week later. It was only July now. “Fuck,” he whispers at the realization. “Five months?”

You nod. “Five months.”

You might have naively wondered if people stopped loving each other or if it just they forgot how to love the other person. But here, now, looking at the beige walls of this bedroom you thought the former was definitely more likely. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s the only thing Calum can say. It’s the only words his mouth can work around and get out. He loved you. He really did. 

“Ashton asked me if everything was okay with us. And I had to tell him the truth. That I wasn’t sure.”

“It’s not you. I need you to know that it wasn’t you at all,” he urges, finally taking your hand and you let him. You even turn, standing toe to toe with him. “I loved you. Through and through I loved you.”

It’s not even a sad revelation. Somehow it feels mundane to hear it. You knew all along that something had happened. You just didn’t want to believe it. But it’s obvious that things had just run out of juice. Your lip wobbles again and you can feel it, hear the tremors as you speak. It’s probably a stupid thing to admit, but it feels right. You unwind your fingers and speak, “I love you.”

Wiping your eyes, you look to the floor. The earth hasn’t shattered. You thought it might. And it’s not a last-ditch effort to save a dying thing. It’s just a statement of truth, just the bone grinding honest truth. Your teeth ache just a little as you continue to speak. “Know that even when I saw the end of the tunnel, and I was staring it down every goddamn day, I actively loved you. I still love you. But I-I can’t keep doing this. Lying to myself.”

Calum nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I-I never meant to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“It might be too late for that.”

His chest nearly caves. He takes a staggering step back and the tears that were threatening to spill and tell all his secrets fall down his cheek. The ink of his truth now tracking down his cheeks. He had hurt you in probably the worst way possible. Holding onto a routine and pretending to give out love. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“We all do stupid things for love,” you croak your laughter leaves in bursts and occasionally choked off by a sob. “We all do stupid things for love.” 

Like lying to yourself, or turning a blind eye to things. There’s just a moment, you lean into the wall right outside the guest bedroom and Calum leaning into the door of the hall closet. Neither one of you can look at each other. Your arms are wrapped around your stomach, the pain from your chest now spreading down your body. Calum just feels heavy, even numb because he can’t believe he had drug you through that. Waiting day in and day out for him to either snap out of it or maybe even into reality. Waiting for yourself to come to that realization too. 

He opens his mouth, staring up at his ceilings with more tears threatening to fall down his cheek. 

“Don’t say you're sorry again. Please don’t.”

“What can I say? What can I do to make this better?”

“Nothing.” 

-H