Hi I’m Back I Haven’t Drawn In A Week

Trying to draw buildings

Gen: I fell for you.

Senku:

Senku: Well, then get up.

Ok speaking about how fantastic the power of imagination is - I have a little trick I like to use. I use this in all kinds of situations when things aren’t bad per se but they’re not great either - when I’m under-stimulated, when I can’t motivate myself to study, when I hate whatever social situation I have to participate in, when I’m mildly dissociating, when I feel unhappy to be around a bunch of people, when I’m feeling huge discontent from what I’m meant to be doing, when I feel I can’t be myself or otherwise have to hide (homophobic environment etc), when I’m hyperactive but still might just get something done, when I’m just really bored - 

It’s called I am the con artist. It goes like this.  

You are the protagonist of a camp high-flying fantasy/spy/steampunk/cyberpunk/swashbuckling novel, and you’re about to pull off your biggest heist yet. Everything before this was leading up to this one. Your people are in place, waiting for your signal - your fingers brush against the hilt of your sword - a smile, disconcerting, plays at the edge of your lips. Everything is ready. If you can just get through the next ten minutes, the next hour - it will all be worth it. The stakes have never been higher. Until then, you just have to blend in.

And you look around, and think: how can I pull this off?

It works a treat. Yes, you’re still disillusioned writing your essay - but you are a disillusioned scholar, pen weary in hand by the light of candlelight, hearing the rain battering against the panes of glass. Underneath the library are vaults full of riches you can only dream of. You just need to wait, quill scratching, until the stroke of midnight. 

Bored of learning vocabulary? That’s not a luxury you have. The king’s eldest heir you will kidnap speaks fluent French; and if you will pull off the pretence for even ten minutes at the masquerade later tonight, you need to convince. 

Feeling overwhelmed, an imposter, like you don’t belong? Well, as a member of the underground syndicate masquerading as a noble, you are. You have flattered and talked your way into the highest circles of society, and the decadence of the ball-rooms and the ever-flowing wine makes you sick. They will rue the day they ever crossed you. 

Hate making small-talk and dressing up? Of course you do. You’re the city’s best squid tamer, and you know poisons like no-one else. And under your dress are poison daggers strapped to your thigh, dipped in the venom of the squid. All you have to do is wait for the signal: the code-word from the man to your left, and the mark’s life will be cut short. 

Can’t be arsed to work out? There is no other option if your plan to infiltrate the ambassador’s elite bodyguards is to succeed. You can scale buildings, sure - but if you are pretending to be a graduate of the kingdom’s best school for martial artists, you need to be more than that. 

Why not use your imagination for protection and fun? If your workout is running up stairs and you pretend you’re chasing a dragon, why shouldn’t you use the same logic for studying or social situations? 

I am the con artist. Melissa is a lie. Evil Chenxi out.

How about...talk?

I was thinking about how there’s no more tween idols or media anymore. like kids in the age of 11-14 being really obsessed with something marketed for them. we had miley cyrus, selena gomez, demi lovato, and the jonas brothers. there’s no tween pop music, no more songs about having fun with your friends or falling in love at the mall. everything that exists feels like content for adults. like I love doja cat but it is really weird to see 7 year olds singing along to “I heard from a friend of a friend that dick is a 10 out of 10” when I’m at work and the radio is on. like where is gen z’s “potential breakup song” or “dj got us falling in love” or “call me maybe”? then it hit me that “tween” doesn’t even exist anymore. right? like the internet has pressured pre-teens and teens to grow up fast, or at least try to look like it. it’s terrifying how the whole awkward phase has completely vanished. was everything like this when I was young or am I just out of touch?

ALEX E WYVTVMWI, TMRIW!!!

crash

Here’s a dumb, unedited, very short story that ends really abruptly because my inspiration ran out, that combines two of @hey-hamlet’s AUs: Don’t Praise The All Mighty and All Traitors.

Basically, All Might’s abuse is what convinces 1-A to turn traitor.

Buh. Enjoy, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve written anything for BNHA

A figure in a dark hoodie wandered aimlessly through the streets, searching. They tried to hide their desperation, but the drug dealers and gang members who roamed the alleyways could practically smell it. The figure ignored them, keeping their pace even

“Kids like you should be at home now,” a voice sneered from the shadows, and the person jumped, turning to face the long, lanky figure that stepped into the dimly lit road, moonlight glinting off the staples that held their face together. The hooded figure relaxed, just slightly

“Dabi.”

“You know my name, kid, but I don’t think I know yours... How did you come to learn it, anyway?” Dabi’s fingers started to smoke threateningly— the watching thugs quickly scattered, all too familiar with what was about to happen. But the figure didn’t run. They didn’t even flinch.

“Midoriya told me,” they said, reaching up and pulling off their hood, revealing red and white colored hair, and a scar that had previously been hidden in the shadow of the hood. Dabi froze, eyes wide in shock. But he quickly masked it with a smirk.

“Sho— that is to say, Todoroki Shoto, what a surprise. Shouldn’t you be at home?” Dabi tried to sound cocky, but there was a slight tremble in his voice. Todoroki simply frowned.

“We want to join the league. Me, and the rest of 1-A,” he said bluntly, his fists clenching. Before Dabi could respond though, he continued, looking at the ground with a furrowed brow “All Might keeps... *hurting* Midoriya, and none of us knew until Kamino. And nobody believes us except Aizawa-sensei and Mic-sensei. The league seems to know...” at this, he looked up. “Help us kill All Might, and we’ll do whatever you want.”

{reblogs help the artist}

Random idea i thought on why Mumza isn’t around.