#dylan is graphite sketch

[infodumped]

my good friend dylan g & his coworker mark s

[art-by-24hr-coffee]

Quick graphite powder sketch of Bob Dylan.

[200yearsgone]

Just in this kind of mood.

[asexpistol]

Latest drawing - Bob Dylan.

[queenofbaws]

What holiday shenanigans are the camp counselors getting up to this New Years? ;)

He hadn't been sure about it at first, but once the sun went down and the moon rose up above the clouds (blissfully, wonderfully, beautifully thin), Nick had to admit...getting everyone back together had been a good move, maybe even a great one.

There was just something so, so...cheering about the whole gang back in action, Dylan buzzing back and forth between the snack table and the phone dock to check his playlist, Ryan never too far behind; saying nothing, of course, of Kaitlyn and Jacob who, for the past ten minutes or so, had been trying to give everyone else piggyback rides for reasons literally only they knew; and of course Abi, sitting by the window, a sliver of her tongue poked out in concentration as the tip of her pencil flew across the page, and -

"I told them there was booze in the punch," someone said from just beside him, and when he startled, Emma laughed and leaned her shoulder against his, watching Kaitlyn and Jacob with a languid, cat-that-got-the-cream smile, "I thought it might've been kiiind of a shitty thing to do, but I mean, look at them, they're having the time of their young lives." She waited until he met her gaze, then leaned in a little closer, her smile taking on a different slant, "So, Mr. Furcillo...you got anyone to kiss when that big ol' sparkly ball drops in a couple hours?"

"I, uh - " he started, and it must've been written on his face, the memory of that night around the fire, because Emma snorted a kinder laugh before taking his face in her hand, forcibly turning his head back towards the window seat where Abi sat sketching, the sides of her hands shiny with graphite.

"Trust me on this one," she tittered, then gave his cheek an affectionate pat, "and thank me later."

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

[stayhiro]

❮ 𝙷𝙸𝚁𝙾  ❯  ━━ ( hiroshi mori . ex ferryman turned budding tattoo artist at ink riot . thirty. ) just your average frustrating to death stubborn ass with good intentions 🌊✒️ information HERE, plots/connections HERE.

written by a pile of ❮ 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 ❯ 🦴.

STAT BLOCK

FULL NAME.    hiroshi miro ALSO KNOWN AS.    hiro, stubborn ass, stayhiro on social media AGE.    30 ZODIAC.    taurus GENDER.    cismale PRONOUNS.    he/him/his ORIENTATION.    demiromantic, chemistry based (historically feminine preference, presumed heterosexual) RL STATUS.    single / it’s complicated OCCUPATION.    ferryman tattoo artist LIVING.    sunnyvale commons, aspen creek, nc FAMILY.    haruto mori (biological father, naval officer, fisherman, deceased), tiffany mori (biological mother, retired teacher),  sofia cross (step-mother, hospice worker), dylan cross (step-brother, student) RL HISTORY.    current ⸺ n/a    former ⸺ wanted connection (ex-fiancé), wanted connection (on/off ex) PET(S).    potato (dusty tan/white shorthair cat)

PUBLIC KNOWLEDGE

losing a battle with his caffeine addiction

much gossip (especially with family, regulars to his shop and friends or friends of friends) surrounding his separation with his fiancé a few years or so prior.

amateur mr. fix-it, will attempt to fix anything for anyone if they ask nicely enough about it (even if he fusses and complains about how it troubles him, he just does it anyway lmao)

a proper outdoorsman and a surprisingly decent cook

became a tattoo artist within the last 4~ years, still perfecting his craft.

very modest and self effacing about his art. still learning to let himself love his art, rather than consider it a waste of his time

self-sacrificing, self-sabotaging and stubborn to death

MISCELLANEOUS

VIBES + AESTHETICS ⸺ strong coffee, calloused hands/bruised knuckles, rolled up sleeves, gray sky drizzles, looking away to disguise a smile, well-worn/loved clothes, doesn’t believe in good luck, intimate matching tattoos, bonfire smoke from damp wood, smudged graphite pencil sketches, unstyled hair, unsent text messages, bickering as a sign of affection, beach sand, sacrifice for those you love, too sweet and too spicy foods, “don’t worry about it”, sudden subtle tenderness, stubborn to death, salt of the earth, crumpled up paper

MOODBOARD ⸺ here.

sacrificed his dream for his families peace of mind for a long time. now he feels massive guilt about finally choosing himself, and second guesses the decision every day

he chose to become a tattoo artist rather than a fine/traditional artist because he enjoys the idea of his art becoming a part of someone

more talkative and affectionate when drunk (which is why he tells most people he doesn’t drink and avoids it when he can)

daily boxing and jogging/running in his downtime

hot and cold in romance, messy and miserable ex

his favorite color is gray and stormy blue

STRENGTHS ⸺ thorough and capable, efficient, uncompromising, principled, tender, attentive, notable ability to soldier on, security seeking and offering, generally mellow.

WEAKNESSES ⸺ perfectionistic, incorrigible, stubborn, somewhat argumentative, reluctant to open up, must have the last word, slightly petulant, at times avoidant.

LOVE LANGUAGE(S) ⸺ acts of service, physical touch

BIOGRAPHY

( cw  ;  brief/vague mention of parental death )

The Mori family lineage comes from the sea. Salt in their veins, eyes steady like the horizon. A third generation Japanese-American, third generation sailor, born and raised by the seafront, and toiled to stay there. Hiroshi didn’t always plan to fall into line with the rest of the men in his family. When he was a kid, he wanted to venture off into the world, to some big city; to be his own boss, a big name artist who has art in museums, and his art on the cover of magazines. But little by little it was chipped off of him like worn paint. His families disapproval, the way his dream tore his mother and father’s marriage apart. Always fighting over where he belonged in the world. dreams aren’t worth it when they disappoint and devastate those around you, he decides. Right out of high school, he works with his father; a fisherman with the Sawyers, long time friends of the family, diligently. A young boy amongst the men of the sea. He never went on to college like most of his friends, and any art he did was only in his free time. And he might have stayed that way forever. In a perfect world, being a simple fisherman would have been enough for him, enough to make his family proud. He could continue being a simple, salt of the earth man, to take care of his ailing father and sweet mother. Continue seeing them day in and out, to work with the Sawyers. He found himself a love, a light of his life that functioned as a lighthouse (wc). She kept him grounded, she helped him forget just how unhappy and stagnant he felt. He poured so much of his unhappiness and discontent into her, and she soaked it up like a sponge. And when his fiancé then clearly would never stop asking him to finally follow his dreams, to let his father’s wishes for him go and be who he wants to be, he shrank away from her. He called off the marriage, he called off his heart. His father was elderly, the Sawyers were happy with his contributions. He didn’t want to be happy at the expense of others. So he let his love go. And he stuck to his guns.  But when his father passes away a few years later, it rocks his world. His old man died proud of him, Hiro can at least say that much for himself. But… what else is there? He can’t admit out loud that his ex-fiance is right, but he feels it in his heart. Now that he’s let the love of his life go, he can finally admit it– years late but better than never. He can admit his ex-fiance was always right.  His heart had been empty, his eyes tired, his dreams forever washed to the wayside. He can’t do it anymore. He puts in his resignation only a year after his father dies. At the age of 25, Hiro finally gives himself permission to be the man he wants to be. He presents his work to museums, he posts it online, he even goes to the ink riot to train and put himself into art. He’s a late bloomer, but he’s still attempting to let himself be happy. A difficulty. His greatest enemy is himself. Every time his mother calls with that sad, disappointed voice, every time he sees the Sawyers, he second guesses himself. Is the work he does now any more important than what he was doing before? No, but it feels better, it frees his soul. Even still…There’s a conflict within him, between his nature and his desire.

[terriblebicho]

This week I spontaneously decided to try my hand at graphite portraits and hey did you know that if you sketch David Bowie's face shape really wrong you get Bob Dylan

[thepeachboys]

27- Bobs. Once again practicing drawing fluffy hair as easily as possible. Basically, transparent hair.

[bexy010drawing-blog]

Drawing I did in 2017:) check out my insta page! https://www.instagram.com/bexy010/

[redlarche]

Rewatched Teen Wolf Season 3b. Bit of a guilty pleasure of mine :] Hope to see more of Dylan O’Brien in the future!

[sheltiechicago]

Artist Spends 200 Hours Bringing This Amazing Hyperrealistic Drawing to Life

Some works of art are realistic, while others appear so true-to-life that they blow your mind. New York-based artist Dylan Eakin spent 25 days—approximately 200 hours—working on a large-scale hyperrealistic drawing that looks just like a real person. Using a combination of graphite and charcoal pencils, he rendered the young woman cupping her face between her hands while expertly sketching the texture of her skin, hair, and clothes so that they fool the eye.

The finished piece is called Nothing But a Foundation, and it is Eakin's most recent photorealistic drawing to date.

[phaniecastello-blog]

Practice Challenge 1

((Well, here it is, finally!! I know it is long, but maybe you will like it, I hope so.))

The promise

“…plie, releve, plie, releve…” I was listening to Miss Dorothy words as she was instructed the ballerinas to do the correct positions. I raised my glance from my sketchbook to verify the details on the blonde lady’s tutu; the texture of the tulle had to be properly capture in here, as well as the subtle folds that make the outfit look so feminine. The gratifying whisper of the graphite as it strokes here and there has always been one of my favorite things about drawing; it’s just as if the pencil has his own dance on the paper that once was blank.

I was there again, sitting on the flat wooden floor in the corner of the big white room. Even though I always have been way better with portraits, I had decided to practice making some complete body drawings. I just needed a good sketch to keep the image on my mind and then make it come to life in my free times at home; those times when my mother lets me breathe from all the runway rehearsals and photo shooting sets.

“That would be all for now ladies, I will see you all at our next class” Miss Dorothy paused the classical music in the middle of a violin solo, while the young ballerinas started walking towards the dressing rooms, braking the peace of the room with their voices.

Wait, what?! I was going to be here just a few minutes. Loretta is going to kill me.

I stood up as if something in the floor suddenly had pinched me and put my sketchbook and pencils back in my purse as quick as I could.

“You lost track of time again, don’t you, pretty girl?” I turned to see the thin, tanned skinned woman with the simple black dress and leggings. She has a sarcastic little smile on her face.

“Yes…! Thank you for letting me in, again, Miss” I answered. She nodded. She was a kind but strict person. I have always wanted to be part of her ballet class, but my mother never let me try; the day she found out I signed up without her permission and that I used to spend my Saturday afternoons there, she showed up making a scene in front of everyone! Since then, Miss Dorothy had never let me sign up again. It wasn’t like she was afraid of my mother, she was just a refined and pacific woman, that had no need to be involved in those kinds of problems with anyone; I didn’t want to cause her any problems either, so, I was absent for a long time, until I consider the danger had passed, and beg her to let me stay at least in one corner, quietly, just to do some sketches. A week ago, she finally accepted.

Although, I was never safe, never free. Having a high caste in this country had a price to pay, and a big one. Several eyes following you at least 3 days per week. I’m talking about the media; paparazzi, reporters… A picture of her daughter with the Dance Academy as a background wouldn’t be my mom’s favorite.

Before getting out of there I put on my sunglasses, the heels I took off when I arrived in order not to scratch the wooden floor and pulled the edges of my gray hood further over my face. I knew it wasn’t the best disguise, but it had surprisingly worked for a complete week, I also knew that ritual was pathetic, but every time I remembered all the reasons the media had given me to avoid them, I forced myself to ignore the embarrassment.

The media “love” my mother because she gave them drama and juicy news back when she was a selected; and now she is a famous and successful fashion designer, so, they can’t ignore her, even if they wanted to. But me… the fact that my personality isn’t like Loretta’s seemed to disappoint them. The good thing is some of them were creative enough to made up things about me, others just liked to have fun calling me “hypocrite” every now and then… No matter what I did, they were never content with me.

“Hey, Loretta, I’m here!” I greeted my mom as I entered to her office. I had to run into thousands of photographers, magazine staff and a big bunch of skinny, narcissist, superficial… people to reach her. I have to mention that I had been part of that bunch since I pronounced my first words, but for a change, I had never fit in it.

Everything was being settled for the new autumn/winter collection to come out to the world, so, the place was a chaos. It was always a chaos. Before this one we had the “creative chaos”, my personal favorite, when you can see all kinds of fabrics of many different colors on every table, people around my mother trying to make the best suggestion to impress her, people sawing some details on the unfinished dresses, assistants running from here to there, and, the best part, beautiful sketches of all the designs, posted on every wall… I liked that environment, where you could almost touch the ideas floating in the air and then you see them turning into beautiful clothes.

I can’t lie, Loretta was one of the best fashion designers in the whole country, maybe even in the world. I mean, not for nothing she was a very famous woman, although, being part of the -now- King Spencer selection could have helped a lot!

“You are late, hun” she said scowling, while she was fixing the sleeves of a tall brunette girl; she must had been new, because I didn’t recognize her.

“I know, sorry. I had to stay late at the school to do some… project, but Peter drove as fast as he could” Pete was my driver and bodyguard. He and I had an agreement, he wouldn’t tell mom about my visits to the Dance Academy and I would let him use my car for his personal use, twice a month on his free days.  

I kissed her cheek and she gave me a  fake grin, a sign that she wasn’t convinced. “Well, then, what are you waiting for!? Nancy is waiting for you”

I sighed, relieved that she didn’t react like I expected. Actually, she had been acting surprisingly indulgent, lately; and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

I entered to the makeup room and noticed that Nancy suddenly hide something behind her back as soon as she spotted me. She waved at me with her free hand.

“What are you hiding from me, now, Nancy?” I asked to my young, personal makeup artist.

“Nothing, Miss. Just wanted to keep this magazine I liked, to cut some hot guys from it” She answered with a nervous tone, fanning the magazine in front of me as it had no importance, but when I noticed the name of it I understood what she was trying to hide.

I scoffed a smile, moved by her failing efforts to protect me. “…Girl! I receive almost all the magazines of the country and even international ones at home every week. I’ve read the article this morning. There’s no need to hide it” I acknowledged, sitting in the chair in front of the big mirror, as straight as I could to show my strength.

The magazine contained the announcement of my ex-boyfriend engagement with a French actress, Arlette … something. The news shocked me, but only because it had been just a year since I rejected his offer to run away with him and travel the world together.

“Are you alright, then?” She asked in a shy tone while she was preparing the face lotions, brushes and makeup to start working on my face.

“Yes, I am. You know more than anyone that we ended in good terms, and surprisingly, it wasn’t that hard to let him go. The problem still is…”

“I know.” She interrupted. Nancy was the closest I had to a friend, sometimes I feel like the makeup sessions are more like therapy for me or maybe a confessionary. We had discussed the Dylan situation before. After he left I was upset, but he wasn’t the reason. I was upset because I hadn’t had the courage to run away, to go to an adventure and leave this… good, but not satisfactory life.

We remain in silence for some minutes while she cleaned my skin with an oiled product that had a peculiar citrus smell “Besides, there are tons of better guys out there. This could be a perfect timing to be single” Nancy continued, handling me a magazine which read: “Nathaniel Schreave, Illéas most eligible bachelor. Ready for the selection?”  on the cover it showed a very good picture of our Prince, he looked very handsome.

I raised an eyebrow glaring at Nancy. “What? I know you like him. Once you said you admire people that has real power and stays humble, like him. I remember it, because I was thinking: What I admire are his nice abs. But your reasons were good, too”. I tried not to laugh at her words, failing.

“I had read this magazine, too, and, you know what? … I have been considering this since then” I said smirking. She grins. I looked down to the magazine on my lap, again “I wonder what she would say” My mother hated the royals for a simple reason. She couldn’t be part of them.

“Oh no! Not again!” Nancy said raising the volume of her voice and leaving my eyeline unfinished. “You can’t lose this opportunity too, because of your fears!” A frustrated look appeared on her face.

I suddenly feel annoyed. How dare she talking to me like that.  “Hey! Watch that tone, Nancy!” The true was that the only reason I felt offended, was because I knew she was right. She looked down at her shoes ashamed and disappointed at the same time and then continued working on my face.

I spent the next 30 minutes of silence meditating about what she told me, about the selection, about how I was going to fix this…

“You are ready” She said with a barely audible tone. I stood up and brush my shirt with my hands, even when I knew it was as clean as it could be. I opened my mouth to speak but she did it first. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have to talked to you like that. It’s just… I think you’re kind of nice and I don’t want you to have anything else to regret…”

I half smiled “Thank you… I’m sorry I shouted at you. I didn’t have to take out my frustration on you” She nodded and gave a grin. “Also, I already took my decision about this selection thing.”

“…and I also think it will be great to experience what you once lived… Ugh no! This doesn’t sound convincing, does it?” I asked Moe. He was looking at me with his little bright black eyes. I was sure mini pigs are easier to convince than Loretta Castello. I had been rehearsing my words for almost half an hour inside my room. It had been a long day at the fashion studio, but I didn’t want to prolong this anymore. I sit on my bed, holding the application letter in my hands. I realized it doesn’t matter which words I use, she will never say yes to this, but I don’t care, this time I will do what I want to do. I filled the letter with all my personal info and when I finished I felt determined to talk to her.   I was walking towards my door when I listened to a knock on my door “Are you still awake, bambolina? She asked with a sweet voice. The one she used when she’s going to ask me to do something. Like that time when she asked me to be part of an underwear photoshoot at 5 am at the theme park. The good thing was that time I had the opportunity to negotiate my art classes. “I need to talk to you” she added. I kept the application letter in the first drawer of my desk and opened the door. “Yes, I’m still awake, come in” I invited her, although she was already inside my room, sitting on the edge of my bed. She patted the bed at her side for me to sit with her. “Okay, what is it now?” I said with a smirk as I took my place beside her. “Don’t say it as I always ask you crazy things, Estefanía!” I scoffed and make a sign with my hand for her to continue. She took a deep breath as if it was hard for her to pronounce the following words. “I think you should apply for the selection” Loretta most have noticed the shocked look on my face because she tried to justify her words “… before you say no, just listen to me for a second. I think you have not entirely recovered for that break up you suffered with Dolan, and...” “His name was Dylan, mom” I corrected her, still surprised by her words. She never showed much interest about that matter. The day I told her about it she just hugged me tight and said “I told you so” and she never mentioned it again. I guess she just wanted to give me space. “…whatever! That jerk doesn’t deserve to be remembered. So, I think you should take this opportunity to heal and to try to get a new love” She conclude. I couldn’t believe my ears. I thought she hated the royals, since Prince Spencer eliminated her from his selection. “That arrogante, privo di tattoo…” She always shrieks, even when I have read a whole different story in the magazines. With all she did and said about the other selected on the interviews, I was surprised she didn’t get kicked out sooner in the competition. She had been trying hard to change since then, but something in her words just didn’t fit fine, this time, but I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. “Hmm… I think you might be right, mom, luckily I last as much as you, there” I said in a reflexive tone. “Sure, why not? I will apply!” I agreed before she changed her mind. “Estefanía, take it for me when I say, those girls will do whatever it takes to win… and you have to promise me you will do the same! No matter what, you have to fight hard!” Her tone was scaring me, it’s like something had possessed her. But 5 seconds ago, she was all sweetness! When she saw my terror face, she changed her tone “…I’m just telling you this, because I don’t want them to hurt you, bambolina” She said pulling my head closer to her shoulder and stroking my curly hair. “Just promise me you will do it” I didn’t like that tone or what she was suggesting, that wasn’t my idea to apply to this competition, I just wanted to meet Nathaniel and get the opportunity to know him more; also, the experience sounded appealing, I could finally meet real friends, real people, and in the process, I could show the Illéans I wasn’t the superficial, hypocrite girl that the media had made them believe. But this wasn’t the time to argue with Loretta, if making a simple promise was what it takes for her to let me do this, I will do it. “I promise”

[christiannescreations]

Bob Dylan February 23rd, 2017

[stanf]

Practice after demo from Dylan @choonhachat. . . . . #art#drawing#drawingoftheday#sketch#pencilsketch#pencilart#pencil#pencildraw#pencildrawing#pencilportrait#portrait#portraits#portraitdrawing#graphite#sketchbook#sketchoftheday#sktchy#doodle

[mrrolandtfranco]

Fantasy Maps Pt 2 | Scratchiness

We are on a bold quest to reconstruct the Fantasy Map asesthetic in ArcGIS Pro. In Part 1 we hacked the Vector Field symbology to approximate hand-drawn mountainification. Here, in Part 2, we’ll talk about adding hand-drawn scratchiness to the map linework.

Here’s a map hastily rendered in colored pencils on a paper bag. When inspiration hits you grab what you’ve got!

The hallmark of a good old fashioned fantasy map book insert is its hand-drawn quality. These maps, which are often completely invented realms, are demarcated by the author’s (or illustrator’s) careful and inventive hand. Pre-print-historic methods are the best for maintaining that willing suspension of disbelief. So that means coasts, boundaries, and features are scratched onto something like vellum or yellowed paper with something like a quill or charcoal.

Here are some thoughts on how you can replicate that sort of candle-lit smokey aesthetic via ArcGIS Pro. Because that would rule! Prepare yourself mentally and emotionally. We’re going in…

Source GIS Linework

Starting with a set of layers that is less geometrically precise than you and I are accustomed to working with is a terrific head start. An overly precise layer can be a digital giveaway. We’ll need to rough our vector layers up a bit. But how? Try a somewhat random sequence of simplifying and/or smoothing until you get something sufficiently humanized.

Alternatively, you can browse this tremendous set of layers that have already been hand drafted by Daniel Huffman and other cartographic artists. In these examples I’m using “Moriarty Hand” by the talented illustrator/cartographer Dylan Moriarty.

Here it is in Pro…

Scratchiness via Stacked Dashed Lines

When you take a good close look at any hand drawn line on a physical surface, you’ll notice a fine variation in the amount of drawing material deposited. Depending on the medium, there is a smooth or chunky scratchiness to the line. Let’s consider ink of paper…

Ink is a rather fluid material and it is absorbed into the varying texture of the paper. It’s pretty smooth in its deposition, so we can try to replicate that by stacking up a few copies of the layer. Each layer has a semi-transparent stroke and a random dash pattern. Make some of the layers thin with a random dash pattern, and some of the layers thicker with a more sporadic dash pattern.

In ArcGIS Pro, you can create your own custom dash pattern by adding numbers (separated by a space) to the “Dash Template” input. The numbers correspond to “on” and “off” distances. Think of it like a moving pen that you can tell how long to touch and not touch the paper.

Here’s a close-up of the resulting stack of layers (over a paper texture), each with a different dash pattern and thickness…

Taking a step back…

Hey alright, that looks pretty inky!

Scratchiness via Stacked Picture Stroke Lines

Ink is sort of easy. But when I think about chalk scraped over slate, the texture us much more irregular and dusty.

The more uneven surface of slate and the dry powdery nature of chalk makes for a thicker, more irregular line. So rather than just relying on stacked up dashed lines, we need something more spotty. In this case I like to use the “Picture Stroke” option for symbolizing a line. This is how I styled undersea cables to look like cord in a previous map.

Here is an image I scribbled that looks like little floating specks of chalk. You can download it here.

When I make a bunch of copies of this layer using this image as a Picture Stroke, with varying size, it stacks up to sort of look like chalk.

I included a couple dashed lines via the technique, above, too fill in the chalkiness.

Here’s a detail snapshot from Pro (with a chalkboard texture behind)…

Taking a step back…

Heyyyyy. I like it. Looks like you can just drag those fingernails right down this map. So what about pencil? What might a line of graphite dragged over rough stock paper look like in ArcGIS Pro?

I think of graphite as sort of in-between the smoothness of ink and the grit of chalk. When I look closely at a line drawn by a pencil, I see a shimmering stroke of graphite with powdery detritus dusted around it.

So, using a technique similar to the chalky one, above, I stacked in a munch of varying dashed lines and a few layers with dusty picture strokes -all of them a dark graphite gray.

A look at the overall effect tells me it looks pretty pencil-ish!

Playing With Color

So, I was happily banging away on scratchy line textures when Allen Carroll and Cooper Thomas showed me an amazing sketch by Erwin Raisz in a story map of hand-drawn treasures from the Harvard Map Collection. I am new to Raisz but am just blown away by the mastery of his careful craft.

Of course I couldn’t approach something this awesome, but I wanted to try out these techniques over a butcher paper roll with bold hue oil pencils, in an homage to the beauty of this map. It was so much fun.

Well, in our quest to tease out the Fantasy Map Illustration Style, we’ve covered Mountainification in Part 1. We just covered Scratchiness here in Part 2. And Part 3 is going to be all about the glories of Texture. See you then!

Happy fantasy mapping, John

from ArcGIS Blog http://ift.tt/2tb4oQy

[thepeachboys]

14- Dylan. Proud of the messy curls and the shadow of his fingers.