#and when I tried doing lineart like that again I just felt drained

[viioledea]

[marikaaajoy]

my relationship with digital art and how BNHA salvaged it

I just wanted to let out my thoughts but I can only do it here :>

This might be a downer for some people but I’d like to share it with people here. BNHA means the world to me and this is why.

I first started drawing when I was 7 years old in 2006

I think it’s ugly now, but 7 year old me remembered being so proud of this because this is a drawing of my stepfather. This is the only drawing I have that was from my childhood. I think the aim here is to draw in anime style BUT I didn’t even watch anime back then. I had a classmate who loves anime and she taught me to draw in school. Drawing became a favorite hobby immediately after that.

Then it was 2013 and I was 14 years old. Drawing is still my favorite thing to do besides being on the computer. I love anime at this point too. My parents bought an iPad for the whole family, but I was almost always the one using it. I discovered an app called ArtStudio and thought “Wow, I can draw without making a mess and with only my fingers” because I was always too lazy to take out my drawing materials and clean up afterwards.

These were my first digital drawings. The pirate one was the very first. I got obsessed real fast. I can color so easily, undo any mistake, layers are a blessing too. There was just so much more freedom. I always sucked at coloring in traditional art and I didn’t like the mess (idk my hands get so messy traditionally)

The next year, it was 2014, I was 15. My birthday is in a couple of months and I knew my parents were planning to buy me something pricey (I think it was a laptop) so I approached them and asked if they could just buy the Wacom Bamboo as a present which was cheaper anyway and I even explained how it works to them and how it would allow me to draw on the computer instead of the iPad. I tried really hard to be convincing. I would have prepared a powerpoint presentation if I had to.

They did give me the wacom as a present. They even gave it to me months before my birthday so I could use it already. I thought I was the luckiest teen in the world with my parents.

These are a collection of my favorite works from 2014 to 2016. The middle one was my second drawing using wacom and Paint Tool SAI. I was a part of a lot of fandoms in those years lol

It gets downhill from there :/

April 2016, my mom and I moved to Japan, while my stepfather and siblings stay in my country. It was tough. For someone who is obsessed with anime, you’d think I’d be thrilled to live in Japan.

I was. Though only at the first few months. It’s not the same as it’s portrayed in anime (I should’ve known but I used to be blinded by anime). It was just lonely. The language barrier sucked and then lots of financial and family issues until my parents split. I got my first boyfriend too and I thought I was blessed by the nicest boy, but the relationship became extremely toxic but I didn’t have it in me to walk away.

All the shit that happened affected me mentally and emotionally. My biggest outlet which was digital drawing, was also out of the question because I did not have a computer/laptop when we moved to Japan. We left it in our home for my stepfather and siblings, even the iPad. I have my wacom with me, but no computer/laptop to use it with. I couldn’t draw.

I tried though. I used my phone to draw, but it wasn’t the same. Then the life problems got piled up, things got worse, and I just lost motivation in anything. Literally anything. From 2016 to 2019, I stopped watching anime, I dropped out of all the fandoms I’m in, I stopped watching my favorite TV series or movies, and I stopped drawing. I even got a bit disconnected with my friends who lived in my country (we talk regularly online). My family was broken so I gave all my attention to my toxic relationship as well which made everything worse too lol

I didn’t draw besides from a few scribbles and the drawings above. I did try digital art on my phone a couple of times again and even posted them on my IG, but they weren’t any good. Eventually, I got mentally and emotionally drained and dropped out of senior high school. I just stayed home for almost a year, leeching off of my mom. I felt even more worthless and my life had no direction at this point. Nothing mattered anymore.

April 2019 or so I think, my (ex)bf bought me a laptop. He says it’s a gift, but I think the real reason was to make up for something horrible that he did (which is stupid because money /gifts won’t resolve anything). I have a laptop. I can draw again, but I didn’t. I didn’t care, I wasn’t interested in drawing anymore anyway.

Welp. June 2019, I went back to my country. My (ex) bf stayed in Japan. The distance helped me end the relationship and my friends were there (they always were) to help put me back together along with two trips to therapy. I went back to finish my senior high school in my own country this time. That said, I have to stay in my country for school (but I was happy because I didn’t wanna go back to Japan yet when the breakup was still fresh and with going back to school, my life has a direction again.)

It was weird. I remember just being sorta lost and confused because I used to put my time, effort and everything into my previous toxic relationship, which was now gone. I was free and I had so much free time that I didn’t know what to do with it. I got so used to doing nothing and being nothing.

This is where BNHA enters.

Dunno when it started, but I started seeing Bakugou frequently online. It’s usually just Bakugou. I knew who he was because my friend suggested BNHA to me back in late 2018 I think but I didn’t watch it since I’ve lost interest in everything at that point in my life.

But ye I thought he hot af but I still didn’t watch BNHA.

But then for some reason he REALLY kept appearing in my social medias and it was really frequent. The last straw was when I saw a pic of him in UA’s gym uniform and thought “damn boi aight imma watch bnha for u” (y’all gotta admit he looks good in those colors with his combat boots XD )

I watched BNHA. Fell in love with Iida along the way. Then I switched to Tokoyami (but Shoji was hot too so aaaaa), but then angry emotionally-constipated sea urchin head caught my heart again. But oof. BakuDeku moments really made me feel some type of way I haven’t felt since I moved to Japan. It felt new but nostalgic. I fell hard in that ship.

I started obsessing. From memes to posts to fanfictions to buying merch to filling my room with BNHA posters. I realized I was reverting to my old self from the time I was still happy and it was thanks to BNHA (and the good people who helped me through the worst too)

Shit I wanted to draw BNHA, I thought.

I mean, I have a laptop, I still have my wacom and drawing softwares. I could totally draw digitally again if I wanted to.

But guess what

I can’t :c

My hand physically cannot draw. My drawings don’t look the way I want them too. 3 years of not drawing really destroyed any skill I had. I was back to square one.

September (yeah they’re ugly, I laughed at it). If you’re wondering why I drew on paper, it’s because, for some reason, I really CANNOT draw digitally. I mean it. I can barely sketch digitally at this point. The lines and shapes just doesn’t come to life. They’re just scribbles. But somehow, I can kinda draw on paper with a ballpoint pen. But yeah, that was the best I could do at this point in my life

After that, I still tried to draw, to regain my old art style, but it didn’t happen... It just doesn’t look or feel the same. Drawing used to be fun. But during this phase, it felt like my ugly drawings were just mocking me (probably was just too emo that time lol)

Weirdly, around a week or two I think, after my half-assed attempts at drawing, I managed to draw digitally somehow o.o

I did a Midoriya and Todoroki drawing like this too. It was my first post here on Tumblr I think. The annoying part here is that I cannot draw digitally unless I draw on paper first, take a pic, and then trace the lineart. I couldn’t draw directly on the computer. Granted, drawing on paper and drawing on digital is very different for me in the first place anyway. But it was still a pain. And it still looked like shit. I can only draw stiff poses :/ it seems like my brain decided to delete all data about anatomy and posture and backgrounds. My lineart here is even messy af. It still really not the same as my old style.

By 2020, I think I got my old art style back. On March, I made this. This took me 27 total of hrs to make.

Right now, I think it’s not bad, but back in March, I was disappointed with the result. This is when I finally broke down crying because it didn’t look good enough and I hated that it took me 27 hrs to draw “bullshit.” I was angry at myself for losing interest in drawing for 3 years when I could’ve used that time to improve. I had to start all over again and it still didn’t look good. (Current me thinks that the drawing above is alright. I was just a lot harsher to myself back then. Used to have a lot of issues but I’m doing great now)

I cried myself to sleep that night. Woke up wanting to cry again. I wallowed in sadness for a couple of days. Eventually told my friends what’s up. Got some pep talk. Even talked to my sister (she’s great, she always hypes me up with my stuff and sometimes I think she’s my biggest fan with how she appreciates my drawings and I’m really grateful for that).

My world turned a 180 and I was weirdly positive after all that crying because brain chemicals and shit. I had a revelation. If I hate how my art style looked so much, then I should have been putting effort in changing my art style, not trying to regain my old art style (that I don’t like anymore)

I researched a lot. I analyzed different art styles and anatomy again. I did everything I could think of to find a style that works for me. I might have even neglected school for a bit to focus on digital art lmao

After all that work, I posted a fanart of middle school BakuDeku in their classroom. I love that fanart so much even if I probably have better ones by now because that was the first fanart I made that I felt like I could be proud of and it was the first one I made in my new art style. It was a milestone for me.

March 2020, I moved back to Japan and without the toxic relationship, I’m a lot positive now. Happy. I’m myself again after the previous bad years. I’m still continuously learning though, trying to improve, but at least, now, I found my own art style :) I really suck at interacting with people online, but I’m always grateful for the support everyone has been giving my fanarts. I’m happy when my content makes people happy.

This is why BNHA is important to me. The series is great alone, but it’s not just that to me. BNHA is so much more. It’s what made me find the passion to create again, only this time, it’s focused on drawing (I used to write, but now I just draw, but maybe I’ll write again for BNHA).

My family is supportive with my love for BNHA, but I think they don’t know the deeper reason why I love it. Sure, I was fine living on with nothing much going on in my life. I’ll finish school, get a job, work until I die or something. It was okay. It was the way of life. But BNHA gave my life color again. I wasn’t just blindly going through life anymore. I have something to look forward to everyday now. BNHA even became a bridge to other things. Ever since then, I’m a lot more open to people, to try new things, to explore and not just live through life and waste away. I got better at leaving my comfort zone. I’ve never been happier in my life :D

Thank you for supporting my fanarts. Thank you so much for giving me a chance to express myself through BNHA. I hope to make more content in the future and improve even more :)

[rusharound]

TPoH: The Maze, Chapter 2

Well, I wrote another chapter. Enjoy!

Sleep did not arrive so much as found him like a streetlamp snapping ablaze, arresting a walker. It became too taxing to both think and feel the pain, and so he made a choice. RGB could not pinpoint the moment he decided to take the day, fold it thrice and put it in some tightly packed box at the bottom of everything, but at some point, he felt the back of his head come to rest upon the soft curve of the sandbank and let the world swirl into a deep dark drain. An ache in his bad leg permeated the dredges of his consciousness but he couldn’t for the life of him discern the cause before the silt settled and he was off.

Hero, curled up against his knee and eyes half open to watch, saw the line of his mouth shape something before he tilted into rest much needed. She decided she wouldn’t pester him about it later.

Exactly what it took to break RGB had crossed her mind from one end to the other, steadying into a large monochromatic eye, a dark palette and a hum in the air like some greater machine bursting to life beneath the ground. What that sight represented remained a mystery, but the last time she’d seen it, her guide had been in dire straights and surely had no choice but to become more dire in turn, more frightening than anything this strange world could stitch together. It scared her even now, however, and so she stopped thinking about it, evacuated the images like water out an ear to avoid giving herself nightmares.

But nothing disappeared in this place, like true energy of any breed, indestructible, it vacated and found a new home.

RGB became, sketched into some charcoal black scape by a cosmic slip of chalk. Offered only a moment to flicker in half questions of what and who, he spotted the ironing board, the spitting steam warping into a husky, papercut voice almost immediately, and turned tail.

Hero had fallen asleep far too close to him again, despite telling her time and time again her dreams did not agree with him, case in point. However, given the Tower still loomed some yards away like a tombstone, he couldn’t fault her. He himself wished he could have moved so he might’ve laid with his back to it.

This was a dream, of course. Hardly a total sense of place, only a vague tug at fingers and toes telling him he was not where he last left himself. Inner compass spinning in vain, he turned from one side of absolutely nowhere to the other, his only greeting an expanse of rich blackness divided by a soft chalk horizon. The symbol of aggression and its accessories had gone. He suspected the moment they’d left his view, they’d dissolved, vanished, as things did in dreams. Formless without observation, without thought.

Hours passed, perhaps. Or minutes. Time scratched its head and reviewed its notes, the projected subconscious a gray area, a clock over a campfire, numbers running. The skyline offered no indication of passage, bare and jagged in some illusion of topography though he knew he’d find no mountains far and beyond. Void as it was, moving through dreams felt heavy, clouded, as if he were chin deep in sand, carving a path for himself. He needed to stop and catch his breath, or he must have, for his hands were suddenly braced to his knees. It must have been the squeeze of some proverbial thickness in the air weighing him like a cement jacket, for he felt as if he’d been sprinting for some time, though he hadn’t been. Breathing wasn’t especially easy. RGB pressed a hand to his side as if to plug some hole through which he was sure great gulps of air were escaping.

The drip did not register until it had run to his elbow and when his hand came away oozing and red, RGB felt himself panic, then panicked. He tried to find the source, some unfelt wound on his flank, but in the selective focus of his dreamer’s eye, he could only see the spreading oval pool at his heel as the stream channeled down his leg. He bled and bled, and yelped suddenly, cries evaporating against the backs of his teeth, strangled by the air.

It spread, soaking him warm and heavy until his chalky figure filled to the edges like a flawed watercolour. He blinked hard, trying to clear the filmy pull in his eyes and his eyelashes stuck together. It stung, blinding, and he folded, cursing like a snapped wire. The flats of his fingers drilled into his eyes, trying to squeeze the pain out the corners, on his knees now, elbows pressing tightly together until the outline blurred and they shared a sleeve.

He shook his head side to side, wet hair licking his ears before he stuffed his hands through it, gripping hard handfuls and letting his eyes burn. Red squeezed under his palms, dribbling into his sleeves until his cuffs overflowed like cups. He bowed over to reverse and pour them out.

His nose and mouth filled and he raised his chin, staring through acid into the scape of a red sea rising around his knees. Hands shot down to push off the bottom and he straightened to his feet, a gasp straining between teeth, grit in terror. Drenched hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and snagged his collar like small fingers, indeed too much like them to be anything else. He tried to pivot and escape but they were too strong and too many, grips born of death, exceeding the sum of parts broken at his hand.

He couldn’t see their faces despite turning until his body locked, sides creaking like the tin man. Only their arms, thin and new, extending into his blind spot. His own voice ripped the air and he shaped his lips to catch it but it turned over, splitting off like the braid of a river to fill their mouths instead.

The weight came and he began to sink. Their arms slipped through space, all but their elbows slipping under the red as they pulled. It seemed the sea itself had sprouted hundreds of hands and all were grasping at his clothing, swallowing him at the knees and higher still, determined to drown their charge. He couldn’t feel his feet and their fingers pierced like glass in a car accident. RGB screamed with the voices of many children, thrashing and coughing up lungfuls of red, movement stunted as if key frames had gone missing. His face felt claws as liquid spilled from his nose and mouth before the sky narrowed into one thick line flanked in blazing white like twin screens in a dark cave. A massive, black Tower roared above, swallowing the xenith from horizon to horizon.

RGB awoke on his bad side to a jostle that helped the pain none. His mouth fizzled, twitched whole and back, his dials quivered in their sockets as a cry leapt from his throat, feeling more like a sob as it dragged its feet through his voice. Hero spoke his name, panicked and grainy with sleep. She must have only just woken up. His good hand found his chest as if his heart hammered beneath, an attempt at curling up bringing a true sob from his shoulders. He couldn’t move, not on his own.

It must have taken a fair amount of strength on her part to sit him up. He tried to tell himself her small hands would not pull him into some abyss but the press of the nightmare and all its fingers felt humid against his heart, and his head spun. Pain’s nest in his right half anchored him to the here, at least, though it had abated somewhat in the way the tide recedes. He knew it would be back, but he needed to take advantage of its absence.

A foundation of sand spoke for itself. RGB could not get to his feet, even with Hero’s support. More than once he fell back into his divot against the small dune, breath trembling as if it were rattled from his body like pocket change. Soon, shaking his head, the pain cracked an eye open and he knew his window had passed. Head tilting, he stole a glance at his own damaged half and poorly stifled a hitch in his next words at the sight of his outline. It had been broken, stuttering where the Tower had pierced him as if ripped from his shell. Like the sharp, snapped face of a broken bone, the edges of his very story dug into him as he moved, burning dry ice and molten rock.

“Hero-” He began, shaking his head. “I can’t- I need to lay down, will you help me?”

He did not blame her when her grip found the unceremonious ending of his lineart, deciding to hold his breath instead and try not to let the agony find a foothold. She worked to make him comfortable, straightening his lapels and smoothing his sleeves. Somehow, she knew he liked to look presentable, even prone and riding the vestiges of a truly horrible dream. She would make a fantastic coroner. The irony made him smile, and she smiled, which made him smile.

She hugged her legs when she was unsure and waiting, and did so now, her chin and mouth disappearing behind her knees. She spoke and he heard her smile waver.

“...Are you going to be okay, RGB?” Something in the fixed gaze she gave him made him want to give her an answer worth something, like the first brick that builds a home.

No throat to speak of but he swallowed, and laying on his back spoke up against gravity. It sounded crushed.

“...My outline is damaged, Hero.” He said.

“...Oh…” She’d grasped the concept as one would the sun in the curl of a finger and thumb, an eye shut tight. Her gaze flicked to the wound, looking as if she might reach for it, but did not. He flinched anyway.

“Can...Can I fix it? I can find a marker...or- or you can have some of mine…”

“...It doesn’t quite work that way…” He explained, softly.“...An outline comes from inside...and far away. Finding oneself and...and the story elsewhere…”

His consciousness flickered again. She rolled forward onto her knees, hung over him, and he saw her shape his name, but a thick static jolt drowned her voice for a moment.

“..Ah...Hero…”

“Yes? I’m here, RGB. What is it?” He heard.

“...I will be fine-” A necessary preface though he could see skepticism in the frown pulling at her lip corner.  “...I will…”

“..Okay...”

“...But...I do have a...a favour to ask of you.”

“Yes, RGB? What can I do?”

A task would pull her energy away from worrying. A busy body had no room for concern, and he couldn’t have her scared for him only for that fear to show up.

“...I need you to...watch some telly.”

Her head tilted. His fingers twitched.

“...I...don’t want to go back to sleep at the moment...not truly, anyway. I do need to rest, however.” It was only in Hero shuffling closer, turning her ear to his speakers did RGB notice how far his voice had fallen. So weak he didn’t much think the volume dial would make a difference.

“...But when you’re a TV, you go into a sort’ve....sleep mode, right?” She asked, quietly.

“...That’s right…” He said fondly, and tried to shift his better shoulder and settle in. It seemed his aches had pooled into his back, lining his blazer with thumbtacks. He wheezed and it crackled his speakers.

“...You can watch...whatever you like, really...Be it cartoons or...history...even a cooking show...I shant judge…” He said, tightly though he meant to tease.

“...Okay, RGB. I promise I’ll turn you back on when I’m done, I won’t leave you too long.” She said with a smile that could lift a mountain.

“Thank you.” His good hand rolled over as if he’d meant to do something, but it fell away like a failed card trick. He was too tired to try again. “...Thank you, Hero.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good rest, RGB.”

Some imperceptible tension left his frame the moment she switched his channel, his gentle grin chased away by the marvel of moving picture. She watched for a moment before her eyes drifted to the broken half of him.

Hero’s time in the market had familiarized her with the importance of a strong outline, a reflection of becoming real, of finding one’s story or one’s story finding them. She wondered then, briefly, where RGB’s story was, or whether he had one at all.

Hero didn’t know close to enough about the man to suppose what sort of story would take him away, eventually, and the thought had her tucking her knees closer, hugging her arms. Somehow, though, she couldn’t resign to the idea of RGB going gracefully. Her pose loosened as she imagined him fighting with all his might against the ascension to stay here, grabbing onto other creatures, hanging lights, the sun itself. That seemed more his style.

This place seemed like the one for him. It was dangerous and terrifying and beautiful. RGB was dangerous and terrifying, though it didn’t look like he knew about that. She wondered what a monster might have nightmares about. She did not ask what could push quiet pleads through the static of his sleep until he was thrust from the dream, crawling desperately on his hands and knees back to the waking world. No ill-eaten curiosity existed in Hero, she just wanted to know what had made her friend cry.

The commercial break passed and she was caught by the brightly coloured program, leaping and jumping in shades and sound, beckoning her attention. She stared, glazed and unseeing before reaching over and turning the dial, cycling through the stations, searching until the flash of stark gray caught her eye. Doubling back, Hero found some film in black and white, as musical as it was silent. A pair of men, one fat and the other thin, argued back and forth in a car that moved quicker than it should have, but the way it whipped around corners and the exasperated takes of the larger man made her smile.

It looked like something they could both enjoy, so she left it and watched all the way through.