How To Make The DIRTY, LAZY, KETO No Time To Cook Cookbook Meals Fast?

Every time a scene in 'Naruto' flashes someone into the background and I grin, I start plotting how that would play out against real-world surveillance. Imagining a ‘camouflage no jutsu’ as pure light-bending works great on screen, but modern surveillance is a buffet of sensors — visible-light CCTV, infrared thermals, radar, LIDAR, acoustic arrays, and AI that notices patterns. If the technique only alters the visible appearance to match the background, it might fool an old analog camera or a distracted passerby, but a thermal camera would still see body heat. A smart system fusing multiple sensors can flag anomalies fast. That said, if we translate the jutsu into a mix of technologies — adaptive skin materials to redirect visible light, thermal masking to dump heat signature, radio-absorbent layers for radar, and motion-dampening for sound — you could achieve situational success. The catch is complexity and limits: active camouflage usually works best against one or two bands at a time and requires power, sensors, and latency-free responses. Also, modern AI doesn't just look at a face; it tracks gait, contextual movement, and continuity across cameras. So a solo, instant vanish trick is unlikely to be a universal solution. I love the fantasy of it, but in real life you'd be designing a very expensive, multi-layered stealth system — still, it’s fun to daydream about throwing together a tactical cloak and pulling off a god-tier cosplay heist. I’d definitely try building a prototype for a con or a short film, just to see heads turn.

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.

I’ve dug through my playlists and YouTube history for this one, and the short take is: yes — 'No' definitely exists in live formats and in remix forms, though how official each version is can vary. When I listen to the live clips (she performed it on TV shows and during tour dates), the lyrics themselves stay mostly intact — Meghan keeps that sassy, confident hook — but the delivery, ad-libs, and the arrangement get a fresh spin. In live settings she sometimes stretches the bridge, tosses in call-and-response bits with the crowd, or adds a different vocal run that makes the line feel new. Those performances are fun because they show how a studio pop track can breathe in front of an audience. On the remix side, I’ve found both official and unofficial takes: club remixes, EDM flips, and a few stripped/acoustic reinterpretations. Streaming services and YouTube/VEVO host official live clips and some sanctioned remixes, while SoundCloud and DJ playlists carry tons of unofficial mixes and mashups. Lyrically, remixes rarely rewrite the words — they loop or chop parts — but they can change mood and emphasis in interesting ways. Personally, I love hearing the same lyrics in a house remix versus an unplugged set; it underlines how powerful a simple chorus can be. Definitely give both live and remix versions a spin if you want to hear different facets of 'No'.

Growing up watching Sunday night cartoons felt like visiting the same neighborhood every week, and nowhere embodies that steady comfort more than 'Sazae-san'. The comic strip creator Machiko Hasegawa laid the emotional and tonal groundwork with a postwar, family-first sensibility beginning in the 1940s, and when the TV adaptation launched in 1969 the producers at Eiken and the broadcasters at NHK doubled down on that gentle, domestic rhythm rather than chasing flashy trends. Over time the show was shaped less by one showrunner and more by a relay of directors, episode writers, animators, and voice actors who prioritized continuity. That collective stewardship kept the character designs simple, the pacing unhurried, and the cultural references domestic—so the series aged with its audience instead of trying to reinvent itself every few seasons. The production decisions—short episodes, consistent broadcast slot, conservative visual updates—helped it survive eras that saw rapid animation shifts elsewhere. To me, the fascinating part is how a single creator’s tone can be stretched across generations without losing identity. You can see Machiko Hasegawa’s original values threaded through decades of staff changes, and that continuity has been its secret sauce. Even now, when I catch a rerun, there’s a warmth that feels authored by an entire community honoring the original spirit, and that’s honestly pretty moving.