Best Easy Reads For Young Adults?

To me, 'ruthless' nails it best. It carries a quiet, efficient cruelty that doesn’t need theatrics — the villain who trims empathy away and treats people as obstacles. 'Ruthless' implies a cold practicality: they’ll burn whatever or whoever stands in their path without hesitation because it serves a goal. That kind of language fits manipulators, conquerors, and schemers who make calculated choices rather than lashing out in chaotic anger. I like using 'ruthless' when I want the reader to picture a villain who’s terrifying precisely because they’re controlled. It's different from 'sadistic' (which implies they enjoy the pain) or 'brutal' (which suggests violence for its own sake). For me, 'ruthless' evokes strategies, quiet threats, and a chill that lingers after the scene ends — the kind that still gives me goosebumps when I think about it.

Summer afternoons call for something cold and bright, and for me that usually means hunting down the best kaikai in town. I like places that treat kaikai like an art form — think small, bright dessert bars that do shaved ice or coconut puddings with care. Look for cafes that use fresh fruit, house-made syrups, and chewy tapioca or mochi bits; those textures are what make a kaikai sing. I’ll often judge a spot by the clarity of flavor: creamy coconut that isn’t just sweet, plus something acidic like lime or passionfruit to cut through it. When I’m testing places I go in waves: first, peek at photos and recent reviews; next, check whether the menu lists seasonal options (a sign they care); finally, order something simple alongside kaikai so you can compare balance. Little independent shops, modern Taiwanese dessert cafes, and Japanese-inspired dessert salons tend to top my list more often than large chains. A snug corner seat, friendly staff who’ll recommend toppings, and a neat presentation clinch it for me. If you love a creamy, slightly chewy texture with a bright topping, you’ll know you’ve found a winner — that first spoonful always makes me smile.

On slow mornings when my hair decides to puff up like it has plans of its own, I really lean into lightweight, texture-first products. For a low taper fade with fluffy hair you want stuff that gives separation and hold without flattening the volume — think sea salt spray as a pre-styler, a light matte clay or cream for shaping, and a fine texturizing powder at the roots when you need an extra lift. I usually spritz a salt spray into towel-damp hair, scrunch with my fingers, then blow-dry on low with a round brush or my hand to encourage the fluff rather than smoothing it down. If I'm going out and want that lived-in look, I follow with a pea-sized amount of water-based matte clay worked between my palms, then rake through the top and crown. For stubborn spots I'll use a little fiber or paste for extra grip, but sparingly — too much product kills the airiness. A light flexible hairspray keeps everything in place without turning the style into armor. Maintenance-wise, a sulfate-free shampoo every other day and a dry shampoo on day two keeps the shape without weighing the hair down, and a leave-in conditioner used only on the ends prevents frizz. This combo keeps the fade crisp and the fluffy top lively, which I love because it looks styled but still effortless, like I actually slept well even if I didn't.

If you want a straightforward path to drawing Deku, I’ve got a go-to routine I use that turns messy scribbles into something recognizable without overcomplicating things. I start with basic shapes — an oval for the head, a light cross for eye placement, and a rectangle for the torso. From there I block in the hair mass; Deku’s hair is spiky but rounded at the tips, so I sketch loose zigzags and then refine them into clumps. Next I break his face into thirds to place the big, expressive eyes typical of 'My Hero Academia', adding the signature forehead scar and freckles. For the body I think in cylinders: neck, shoulders, arms, then add his school uniform or hero costume as simplified shapes before detailing. Shading is minimal at first: flat shadows under the chin and around the hairline. For guided material I like a mix: a short YouTube step-by-step for pacing, a Pinterest step-layer image for reference, and a DeviantArt or Tumblr breakdown for pose ideas. If you want specific practice drills, I do 10-minute face studies, 5-minute hair clump sketches, and then a single full-body pose once I feel comfortable. That combo — structure, focused drills, and reference layering — is what finally turned my scribbly Deku into something I’d actually post. It’s honestly so satisfying when the eyes start to feel alive.

Picking up a pencil and trying to copy Deku's poses is honestly one of the most fun ways kids can learn how bodies move. I started by breaking his silhouette into simple shapes — a circle for the head, ovals for the torso and hips, and thin lines for the limbs — and that alone made a huge difference. For small hands, focusing on the gesture first (the big action line) helps capture the energy before worrying about costume details from 'My Hero Academia'. After the gesture, I like to add joint marks at the shoulders, elbows, hips, and knees so kids can see where bending happens. Encouraging them to exaggerate a little — stretch a pose or tilt a torso — makes copying easier and gives a cartoony, confident look. Using light lines, erasing, and redrawing is part of the process, and tracing is okay as a stepping stone if it's paired with attempts to redraw freehand. Give them short timed exercises: 30 seconds for quick gestures, 2 minutes to clean up, and one longer 10-minute pose to refine. Pairing this with fun references like action figures or freeze-framing a 'My Hero Academia' scene makes practice feel like play. I still get a rush when a sketch finally looks alive, and kids will too.

Let me walk you through my favorite setup for drawing Deku if you want something simple but effective. I start with a couple of pencils: an HB or B for construction lines and a 2B or 4B for darker linework and quick shading. A small, soft kneaded eraser and a clean vinyl eraser are lifesavers — kneaded for gentle highlights and vinyl for stubborn marks. For paper, a smooth sketchbook or a sheet of Bristol (smooth surface) keeps lines crisp and works well if you decide to ink. For inking I like thin-felt pens (0.1–0.5) and a brush pen for hair strands and dynamic line weight. If you want color later, cheap alcohol markers or a handful of colored pencils (greens, skin tones, and a few neutrals) cover Deku’s palette. For easy tutorials, pick ones that break Deku down into simple shapes: circle for the skull, cross-line for facial direction, rectangles for the torso. Tracing paper or a window tracing method is perfect for early practice, and a lightbox is a nice upgrade. Practice expression sheets, three-quarter head rotations, and quick gesture poses to capture his energy from 'My Hero Academia'. I find this combo keeps the process fun and not intimidating, and I usually end up smiling at the results.

I get a real kick out of digging up references, and for 'Deku' there's a goldmine if you know where to look. Start with anime frames: queue up scenes from 'My Hero Academia' on YouTube, slow them to 0.25x and use the comma and period keys to step frame-by-frame. I make a small folder of screenshots — run, punch, breath, expression — and they become my go-to animation references. Besides screenshots, I lean on pose apps like Easy Poser or DesignDoll to recreate tricky foreshortening; you can tweak limb lengths until the silhouette reads like the anime. For facial and costume details, Pixiv and Instagram hashtags like #dekudrawing or #izukumidoriya are full of stylistic studies and expression sheets. I also use GIF extractors (ezgif.com) to pull a handful of keyframes from fight sequences; then I trace loosely to learn motion flow before drawing freehand. Pro tip: import the keyframes into Krita or Procreate, turn down the opacity and onion-skin the next frame — your in-betweens will feel way more natural. This workflow keeps things simple yet accurate, and I always end up smiling at how much more confident my sketches look.

I find that practice is the single most useful thing you can do to get better at drawing Deku in simple comic panels. When I break it down, what really changed my work was doing tiny, focused drills: quick gesture sketches for 60 seconds, three-frame expressions, and practicing the same punch pose from different angles. Those little repetitions build muscle memory so you stop overthinking every line and let the character feel alive. I also mixed study with play: I’d pull frames from the 'My Hero Academia' manga and anime to see how the artist handles speed lines, head tilts, and panel layout, then I’d redraw them as simplified thumbnails. Thumbnailing helped me decide what to show and what to cut away. Over weeks you’ll notice your storytelling improves — pacing, camera choices, and facial clarity. It’s satisfying to watch a page go from messy sketches to readable, punchy panels, and I still get a kick out of tiny wins like cleaner expressions or better motion.