LIKE MAN OKAY. HERE'S THE PROBLEM.
Kind of cutes, I guess. But I think I'm running into the age old My Art Style (focused on being able to draw a character as much as possible as quickly as possible and to mirco-organism them when necessary) is Fundamentally Incompatible With the FEH Art Style and SPECIFICALLY the Askr motifs/aesthetics. Problem.
I think what happened as time went on too, is I translated the chunky thigh armor into more of a solid shape on the knees of the boots.
You can see the difference here! He doesn't have a solid knee-pad like diamond, he has a funky pattern. Not the worst example of extremely intricate pattern crimes but still the bane of my existence as an artist. (Worth saying, it works in Kozaki's art style!!!! And more conventional anime art styles, broadly speaking!!! Because those styles give you a lot more room to work with, on the character themselves, and they're more focused on details!!! That's just, my rough thoughts about it)
So there's like. Too Much Big Solid Shapes going on. Not enough space to give your eyes a break. Esp the way I ink. I think the negative space and all-blue ink Until you get to the knees, again, just gives your eyes a break.
See him Usual Style:
I feel soooooooooo bad going "but my art style 😢" bc I feel like TYPICALLY. That sentiment is used to avoid learning new things. But like.......... do you see the Problem here. I need to draw this fucker a million times and sometimes I need to hit 'em with the shrink ray.
LIKE. MAYBE. WHAT I'M GETTING AT. Is The Purpose of an art style. What it's Supposed to Do. And how it functions in tandem with You, the artist.
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Chenford + “What are you doing here?”
Lucy doesn't give him the opportunity to ask anything else – she pushes past him and walks through the entry way, patting Kojo absently on the head as she makes her way through to the living room. She realizes it's rude, but this is Tim and she's about to say something big, so she figures it's alright to be a little rude right now. She can apologize later, if he's mad about it.
God, she hopes he's not going to be mad about it.
She listens as Tim closes the door and makes his way back into the house, poking at his security panel before he turns and looks at her. His eyes bore into her back and she whirls around on her heel, pressing her lips together. "It doesn't feel like effort, with you."
Tim squints at her and she holds her hands up for a long moment, meeting his eye. Please let me, she urges him with her gaze and he takes a second, but nods in concession.
"You said I deserve someone that's worth the effort, and I was trying to figure out what the fuck that meant, because I...I put effort in, you know? I always do. I...I try to be what the person I'm with needs, and do things for them, and show them how much I care. And it occurred to me that maybe I've been wrong in thinking that is effort – because," she lets out a soft, breath-filled laugh, looking down at her feet. "Because it's not effort with you. It doesn't feel like effort, at least."
"Lucy-,"
"Let me finish," she nearly snaps, then recoils. "Sorry."
He smiles at her, tentative, maybe a little nervous – but underneath it all, it seems like he knows. She hopes he knows. It would make her life a hell of a lot easier if he just knows. “Go ahead,” he says, his voice gentle as he raises a brow at her.
“Thank you,” she offers, then presses her hands together. “It’s not effort with you. I...I think that’s why I didn’t recognize it, because it doesn’t feel like putting in work, the way people say it can. It doesn’t feel like I’m running myself ragged when I remember that you like that seasonal Thin Mint creamer and buy a bunch at the grocery store so you can have it longer than it’s out. I don’t notice I’m doing something when I pick a lunch spot you like more than I do because you’re having a shitty day. I...god, I went hoarse for a whole weekend recording you an audiobook because I wanted you to do well on your Sergeant’s exam and I didn’t even bat an eyelash. I like talking,” she looks up at him to find him smiling tentatively at her. “I really like talking, Tim.”
“I know you do,” he chuckles, nodding.
“I get that it’s not just that stuff, that...obviously relationships are more than just favors and niceties. But I can’t imagine lounging around watching football with you all Sunday would be a sacrifice. And I...I can’t imagine being anyone but myself with you, which is terrifying – because I don’t think I’ve ever fully been myself with anyone I’ve dated before.” Lucy stops herself, shutting her eyes. “Not that we’re dating. I’m not saying that.”
“Lucy,” he’s soft, a little closer than she expects.
“I broke up with Chris,” she says, hurrying through it. “Not for you. Just...not not for you.”
Tim’s breath is shallow and she opens her eyes to find him standing in front of her, staring at her softly. “What’d you do it for, then?”
Lucy swallows. “I want to put in the effort,” she murmurs, looking up at him with wide eyes. “And I think I want to put in the effort with you.”
“Yeah?” He can’t hide his smile and her heart clenches in her chest, beating hard against her ribcage.
“Yeah,” she nods, a wet laugh lodged in her throat.
Tim steps forward tentatively, his hand finding her elbow, cupping it gently before he slides his fingers to her waist. She feels her skin warm to his touch, blinks up at him slowly. “We shouldn’t rush it,” he whispers, and his mouth is close to hers. “I’m not going anywhere. Are you?”
Lucy shakes her head, her fingers reaching for his forearm, pressing into his skin gently. “I’m right here.”
Tim nods, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. Lucy shuts her eyes and leans into him lightly. “Good,” he murmurs, and she lets herself relax for the first time in ours. “We’ve got time, then.”
For once, she thinks, sliding her arms around him and letting her body sag against his own, time might actually be on their side.
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