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capricorn-writes2 · 2 months ago

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Hey! I would like to request again with Horror, Killer, Dust, Ganz and Reaper to help S/O who cannot sleep. Thank you ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Horror Sans, Killer Sans, Dust Sans, Reaper Sans and Ganz with Insomniac S/O

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A/N: Hello, Anon! Thank you so much for requesting this headcanon, and I tried my best to give the best portrayal for these guys. I hope you like the final result, and I'm sorry if there might be some OOC characters. I am really sorry, but I have to close the asks because my asks are overflowing, especially in the other account.

Warning: Mention of Insomnia, tiny description of violence. Gender: Neutral

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Horror Sans: Horrortale

Horror Sans keeps a stash of hot cocoa (extra thick) for your worst nights, even if it's hard to find in the Underground, where food is quite scarce in here. He lets it simmer until it’s just right, then shoves it in your hands.

He doesn’t sleep much himself, so when you’re tossing and turning at 3AM, he’s already up, carving wood or sharpening his cleaver. When he hears your sighs, he puts his tools down without a word and climbs into bed. One giant arm wrapped around you.

Sometimes, when you can't sleep at all, he takes you on silent walks through the underground ruins. The broken halls and empty echoes oddly soothe your racing mind.

He carves little trinkets for you when he knows you’ve had several bad nights in a row. A tiny bone charm, a wooden heart, even a keychain shaped like a sleeping skull. They’re crude, but strangely they ease your mind because it feels like he was there for you.

When you cry out in your sleep, Horror jolts awake instantly, eyes glowing red. He doesn’t shake you to wake you up. Horror Sans just murmurs your name, rubbing circles on your back until you stir or cuddle you.

Sometimes, he tells you stories, gruesome, broken fairy tales from the Underground. He softens the gore just for you, weaving his trauma into tales that somehow feel familiar.

He once let you draw on his bones during a particularly sleepless night. You doodled stars and hearts across his ribs, giggling when he flinched at ticklish spots. Now he keeps a marker nearby, just in case.

He doesn’t understand everything about insomnia, but he understands pain, loneliness, and silence. That’s why he stays, through every sleepless night and morning. He never asks you to be okay. He just stays next to you in the darkness.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The clock blinked 2:57 AM, its red digits glowing like tiny, merciless eyes in the corner of the room. You stared at the ceiling, wide awake, your limbs heavy with exhaustion but your mind spinning like it was being chased. The silence was loud. Too loud. Every creak of the floor, every distant hum from outside, seemed like something waiting, lurking.

You turned over for the twelfth time, pulling the blanket tighter around you, but it wasn’t warmth you needed. You needed something to calm your racing thoughts. The door creaked open softly, and the familiar silhouette filled the doorway. Broad shoulders, a glowing crimson eye, and a jagged grin that somehow never looked threatening when it was turned toward you.

Horror Sans didn’t speak at first; he just stepped into the room, the floorboards groaning under his weight like they knew he was someone to be respected, even by the house itself. In his hands: a chipped mug of cocoa and a small carved bone charm tied to a string. “Could smell your thoughts from downstairs,” he rasped, his voice like gravel soaked in black coffee. “Kept me from my nap. Rude, ain’tcha?” But his grin softened.

Horror Sans walked over as his footsteps made a creaking sound from the wooden floor, placing the mug on the nightstand and the charm gently into your palm. You clutched it tightly, its surface warm from his hand. The room felt a little safer already. He sat beside you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his massive frame. “Wanna talk?” He asked, his tone surprisingly gentle for someone who once tore a monster in half for looking at him wrong.

You shook your head, and instead of prying, he leaned back against the headboard and opened one arm, wordlessly inviting you closer. You curled into his side, head resting on his chest, feeling the faint thrum of magic through his bones. “Close your eyes,” he murmured. “You don’t gotta sleep. Just rest. I’ll stay.” His fingers were cold but firm.

His fingers moved in slow circles along your shoulder. In the darkness, his presence filled every corner like a ward against whatever shadows haunted you. You thought you’d feel small next to him. After a while, he started humming. Low and slow, like a lullaby carved out of broken memories. There were no words, just sound and vibration and something old behind it, something kind.

You breathed in deeply, his scent all smoke, ash, and something earthy, like he’d fought monsters in the forest and never truly left. His thumb brushed your cheek once as he was careful that the sharp part of his claws didn't touch you, just enough to ground you. “Night ain’t got nothin’ on you,” he whispered.

Your body sank deeper into him, muscles slowly relaxing one by one. You weren't asleep yet, but your mind wasn’t racing anymore. Not with his humming, not with that charm still clenched in your hand, and not with his arm across you like a blanket. He wasn’t perfect, but he was yours and somehow, in his arms, even the monsters under your bed seemed to keep their distance.

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❀

Killer Sans: Something New

Killer doesn’t sleep much either, so when you’re awake at 4AM staring at the ceiling, chances are he’s hanging upside-down from your doorframe. “Can’t sleep, babe? Good. Let’s go commit insomnia crimes together.” He means playing card games, not actual crime… this time.

When your insomnia hits hard, Killer builds a blanket fort around you using stolen bedsheets, pillows, and questionable tape wrapped around the fort to make it steady. Inside, it’s cozy and lit by tiny fairy lights he definitely didn’t steal.

He doodles on your arms with a red pen when you’re too restless to stay still. He draws little skulls, sleepy eyes, and hearts with knives in them. Sometimes he kisses your hand afterward like you’re royalty.

He sneaks out to get your favorite snacks and drinks when you're having a hard night. It doesn’t matter if it’s 1 AM or 5 in the morning. He’s got sticky fingers and zero morals. Shows up with a bag of Cheetos and cans of Coca-Cola or Dr. Pepper.

On the worst nights, he lets you lie on top of him while he traces shapes on your back. His gloves are rough, but his touch is so careful you could cry. He tells you stories of twisted fairy tales where the villain always wins.

Or sometimes Killer keeps your favorite movie downloaded and ready when it was your worst night. You don’t even watch it sometimes; you just let it play in the background as the sound soothes you.

If you ever fall asleep in a weird position, he doesn’t move you. Instead, he moves himself around you like a puzzle piece. Once you woke up with him curled around your legs like a cat.

When you can’t stop pacing, he mirrors you, walking in circles dramatically. “New sport: Midnight Marathon. The first one to fall asleep wins.” You roll your eyes, but it makes you smile when he jokes.

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You weren’t sure what time it was, but the glow from your phone screen said it was way too late to still be awake and way too early to give up trying. The ceiling had become your favorite thing to stare at lately, not because it was interesting, but because at least it didn’t talk back. Your thoughts, though? Loud. Spinning. Buzzing like a glitch.

Even blinking felt exhausting now. You buried your face in your pillow with a sigh, half-hoping the universe would knock you out just to shut you up. The window creaked open with a familiar, unnecessary flair. Of course, he never used the door. “Knock knock, insomnia!” Killer’s voice rang out, too energetic for someone who probably hadn’t slept in a week either.

You sat up just enough to see him climbing through the frame like a smug cat burglar. “Guess who brought your favorite bag of salty death chips and tons of Dr.Peppers and Cola cans?" He grinned, eyes glowing in the dark, and a snicker escaped from him.

Then he tossed it onto the bed, kicked his boots off, and flopped beside you like gravity meant nothing. He smelled faintly of rust and trouble, chaotic comfort wrapped in a hoodie too big for someone who didn’t have skin. You didn’t have to say anything. He just knew. With a dramatic sigh

Killer Sans rolled over onto his side and propped his head up with his hand, the other one reaching out to poke your cheek. “You’ve been overthinking again, haven’t you? Tsk. Told you not to go in that haunted house you call a brain without me.” The jab was playful, but the concern in his voice was real. You didn’t answer, but you turned your face toward him, your silence enough of an answer. He suddenly reached into his hoodie and pulled out a red marker. “Alright. New plan.”

You didn’t even question it. Killer grabbed your arm gently and began drawing some little skulls with hearts for eyes, crooked stars, and cartoon knives with blood. His focus was intense, tongue poking out like a kid with crayons. “Therapy. Killer-style. If I can’t make you sleep, I’ll make your arm a distraction masterpiece.” You watched him, heart slow and quiet for the first time tonight. “Y’know,” he said softly after a while, “you don’t gotta force yourself. To sleep. To be okay. Just… be.”

The words were casual, tossed out like candy, but they stuck to your ribs like poetry. You looked at your arm that are now covered in doodles and realized you felt warmer than you had in hours. Killer dropped the pen and stretched out beside you, then pulled you gently to his chest. His bones were hard, sure, but his magic buzzed low and calm, like a lullaby under your skin.

He didn't say anything else. Just wrapped his hoodie around your body like a blanket that protects your from the cold. You closed your eyes, not to sleep, but to listen. You matched your breathing with his, letting the strange rhythm of him settle your nerves. And for once, your thoughts weren’t screaming. Just whispering. Slowing. Resting.

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Dust Sans: Dusttale

Dust isn’t the touchy-feely type, but the moment he finds out you haven’t been sleeping, he starts sticking around at night more often. He doesn’t say anything at first, just leans in the doorway and watches you, like a guardian.

He hates the silence as much as you do. So when the room gets too quiet, he flicks his fingers and make a soft, low hum of magic to fill the space. It’s subtle, almost like static or wind, just enough to keep your thoughts from spiraling.

Dust has insomnia too, sometimes. So he doesn't judge when you’re wide awake at 3 a.m, just staring into nothing. Instead, he pulls out one of his old journals and starts writing, letting you listen to the scratch of pen on paper.

He has a stash of old books in his room, dusty and broken-spined. On the worst nights, he reads to you in his low, tired voice. Sometimes it’s horror. Sometimes it’s lore, or sometimes it’s his own writing.

Sometimes, He learns to sketch just to keep your mind busy. He hands you broken pencils and torn notebooks at 2 a.m., challenging you to draw a monster uglier than him. You always lose.

When you’re shaking from exhaustion, Dust lets you rest your head in his lap. He doesn’t move, even when his legs go numb or the world outside gets too loud. One hand rests on your head, thumb brushing your temple in slow, repetitive motions.

Dust memorizes your bedtime routine. Even if it’s dumb, even if it doesn’t work, he does it with you. Brushes his teeth at the same time, turns off lights together. It becomes something sacred between you two.

He once built you a dreamcatcher out of bone and thread. It’s crooked, a little creepy, and probably cursed. But you hung it above the bed anyway. And somehow, since then, the dreams haven’t been so scary.

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You didn’t know what time it was. The world outside your window had melted into that liminal kind of dark, where even the moon looked half-asleep and the street lamps buzzed like distant insects. Your eyes were heavy, but your mind was wide awake with thoughts jumping between regrets, missed texts, and unspoken worries. You hated this feeling: trapped between the want to rest and the inability to shut your brain up.

The door creaked open without a knock, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was. His footsteps were too quiet, calculated. Dust never walked like a normal person, he moved like someone who expected a fight, even in your bedroom. “Still awake,” he muttered, not a question. You hummed in response, watching as he sank into the chair beside your bed.

His hoodie half-falling off his shoulder, sockets dim with exhaustion he’d never admit to. He didn’t ask what was wrong. Dust never wasted words like that nor the type to ask many questions. Instead, he reached into his hoodie and pulled out a cracked thermos filled with tea, handing it to you. “It’s bitter,” he warned.

You took it anyway, the metal still warm from wherever he’d gone to get it. The first sip made you wince, it tasted like old herbs, medicine and despair. “You’ll live,” he grunted, clearly amused by your face. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It never was with him. You listened to the quiet hum of his magic, that low, pulsing thrum like a heartbeat beneath your own.

It made the air feel heavier, safer somehow like if any nightmare tried to crawl out from under your bed, it would disintegrate before touching you. Dust rested his head back against the wall, one glowing eye flickering toward you now and then. “You’re thinking too loud,” he said. You sighed, curling your fingers around the thermos. “I know.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and held out his hand. You hesitated, then gave him yours. His grip was rough but careful enough not to accidentally prick you, his fingers cold, but he traced small circles into your palm like he’d been doing it his whole life. “You don’t gotta fix it all tonight. Just… stay. Breathe....” he murmured, voice lower now.

He pulled something from his jacket pocket, a stubby pencil and a wrinkled notebook. “Let’s draw ugly things,” he suggested, like it was the most natural response to insomnia. You blinked. “What kind of ugly things?” “Like that thought that told you you’re not good enough. Let’s make it fat and give it six arms.” You laughed, just a little. He smirked, and the sound made his soul flare gently in his chest.

You lost track of time. The notebook filled with sketches and doodles, half-formed monsters and imaginary fears with googly eyes and terrible fashion sense. Somewhere between a grumpy scribble of your anxiety and his horribly disproportionate sketch of your math teacher, your breathing evened out. You leaned your head against his shoulder without thinking. He didn’t move away. Just rested his skull against yours and let the silence settle in again.

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Reaper Sans: Reapertale

Reaper doesn’t sleep either, at least not like mortals do. But the moment he learns you suffer from insomnia, he begins appearing at your bedside more often. Not to judge, not to fix, just to be there for you.

He calls you “beloved” in the softest way possible. Like the word itself might shatter if spoken too loud. When you’re curled in bed, tense and wired, he’ll whisper it near your ear. And it makes the monsters in your head pause.

He will whisper your name like a prayer. When you’re shaking, when your thoughts won’t shut up, when you feel alone like there was no one was there for you. He speaks it softly, over and over, anchoring you to the present.

Reaper reads ancient texts in a deep, rhythmic voice. Not all of it makes sense, some in dead languages, others in stories forgotten by time. But the sound of his voice lulls you into calmness.

He conjures a thin veil of shadow over the windows. Not just to block the light, but to mute the world, silencing the honks, the wind, even the ticking clock. To him, sleep is sacred; not even Death should disturb it.

Reaper’s cloak becomes your second blanket. Heavy, slightly cold, smelling like magic and grave lilies. When you curl up in it, it feels like being wrapped in the night sky itself.

He draws sigils in the air, casting soft charms for peace and silence. They hang invisible around your bed to wards of calm, of rest, of dreamless slumber. “Nothing dark may trespass here,” he says solemnly.

He has a near-perfect memory. So he repeats the things that helped before: the right words, the exact position that made you sigh, a cold comfortable pillows, a warm water for your throat, sleep masks, the lullaby from week two. He tailors his care like a ritual.

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The ceiling above your bed stared back at you, painted with shadows and the slow crawl of hours you couldn’t name. You’d counted the cracks in the paint, memorized the rustle of the curtain, even listened to the hum of your heart like it might lull you to sleep. But nothing worked. Sleep had abandoned you again.

A cold breeze stirred the air, though no windows were open. You didn’t flinch. You knew that sensation by now, the quiet arrival of something otherworldly, dark yet comforting, and the hush that followed. When you blinked, Reaper Sans stood by the foot of your bed, framed by nothing but the dark. His cloak moved like smoke in water, face half-lit by the soft blue glow of his soul. “Still awake, beloved?”

You didn’t answer. Just nodded, too tired to pretend it was fine. He said nothing more, simply walked across the room and sat beside you. His scythe always with him, always gleaming with ghost-light, hovered in the corner, like a silent sentinel. You could smell the magic clinging to him: lavender, ash, and something like ancient ink. It wasn’t unpleasant. It was…comforting.

Without asking, he extended his arm, and you curled instinctively into his side. His robes were cold, but his magic hummed with a warmth you didn’t understand. Death shouldn’t be comforting, but he was. “I cast a ward earlier. It should help with the voices tonight," he said quietly.

You hadn’t told him about the voices, those fleeting thoughts that liked to whisper lies in the silence. But of course he knew. His hand rose slowly, carefully brushing your hair away from your face, as though you were made of silk or something long buried. “Your soul is loud when it suffers, I hear it calling me, even in the realm between," he added.

You felt your throat tighten at that. No one had ever said your pain was heard. Not like this. Not like it mattered. You wanted to tell him everything. How afraid you were of your own thoughts. How the night made everything worse. But you didn’t have to because he pulled his cloak around both of you, sheltering you in that strange, sacred space where sleep wasn’t forced, but invited. “Let me share the night with you,” he whispered.

Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. Time melted beside Reaper, soft and slow. The flicker of his magic reflected on the wall in constellations that weren’t real but made you feel small in a comforting way. You focused on the rhythm of his soul’s pulse, a deep, slow echo beneath his ribs. And the protective way he curled his arm around your side like a shield from unseen things.

When sleep finally began to creep in, you felt him shift slightly. Not to move, not to leave, but just to settle in more deeply beside you. His voice came one last time, a whisper that reached into the growing stillness of your thoughts. “Sleep now. I’ll keep the world away.”And for once, you believed him.

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❀

Ganz : GZTale

Image Source: SkyDixie

Ganz isn’t the type to say much, but he notices everything. When you’re tossing and turning, he doesn’t question it. Instead, he lies beside you, skull tilted your way, watching with a soft glowing eye.

He starts keeping track of your insomnia patterns. Not in a notebook, but mentally, like he’s preparing for battle. If he senses the signs from twitchy fingers and far-off stare. He’s already planning how to help.

Ganz will light up the room with little flickers of magic. Not too bright, just enough to distract your mind from racing thoughts. Sometimes they form shapes such as foxes, ghosts, symbols from his world.

Sometimes, he tells you stories from his world. They’re weird, a little violent, and full of sarcastic commentary. But they make you focus, it give you something real and chaotic to focus on.

He learns what helps you calm down such as music, humming, fidgeting. Then he offers them without being asked. You want music? He’s already queuing your playlist in the spotify or from the youtube.

On the worst nights, he doesn’t say a word. He just pulls you into his chest, holds you tightly, and doesn’t let go. His magic flares up just enough to warm your back and his silence are comforting.

He sometimes takes you to the underground ruins via portal. Not to scare you, just to walk so your mind can be distracted by the view. The ancient silence calms your nerves, and the glowstones help your eyes rest.

When you do finally fall asleep, he doesn’t move. Not even to check his phone. He just watches over you, bones still, magic soft. And if a nightmare flickers in your expression, he’s ready to fight it.

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It was 2:47 a.m. when your brain decided sleep was off the table. Again. You’d been staring at the ceiling so long, the texture had turned into mountains, and your thoughts had gone from overthinking what you said at dinner to imagining alien civilizations made of cheese. Everything was quiet, too quiet for your likiking.

And then, the air shifted. A chill, a disturbance in the space between the seconds. A presence you couldn’t mistake. Ganz stood at the edge of your bed, his glowing eye cutting through the darkness like a lighthouse in a storm. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you with that poker face, arms crossed. “Tough night?” he asked in his usual gravelly tone, though his gaze softened.

You couldn’t manage words, just a half-hearted nod as you buried your face into your pillow. It was too much tonight—too many thoughts, too many anxieties that kept you up, relentless in their pursuit. He seemed to read it in the way your shoulders slumped, the way your breath hitched.

Ganz didn’t offer a magical fix or an empty platitude. Instead, he sat down beside you, his presence solid and grounding, like the only thing that was real in a sea of chaos. Without a word, he reached out, his skeletal fingers brushing your hand, offering warmth that didn’t quite belong to him. “C’mon, let's get some fresh air. The night’s too big to let it eat you alive," he muttered.

And with that, he tugged you up, guiding you outside with a force that was oddly gentle for a being like him. The cool night air hit your face, sharp and fresh. Ganz pulled you onto the rooftop, where the city sprawled beneath you, the lights a distant constellation of dreams. "Isn't this better?" he asked, settling beside you as the wind tousled his jacket.

You nodded, your heartbeat slowing, just a little. The vastness of the night was no longer suffocating, but freeing. His voice broke the silence again, not forceful, but comforting. “Sometimes you gotta step out of your head, y’know? The stars don’t care about your worries.” His hand casually brushed against yours, like it was the most normal thing in the world. And for a moment, it was.

You stayed there for what felt like hours, letting the quiet of the world mix with the strange warmth of his magic. When the weight of exhaustion finally began to pull at your eyelids, Ganz made no move to rush you back inside. Instead, he hummed a low, comforting sound, the kind that only someone like him could produce. “You gonna make it through the night?” he asked, not teasing. It was an offer that he would be willing to stay awake as long as you need him to be. “I can stay up as long as you need. I’m used to it.” He finally says.

Eventually, you found your way back to your bed, though now, it didn’t feel so oppressive. Ganz didn’t leave. Instead, he laid beside you, his cool body curving protectively around you. His arm draped over you, not too tight, just enough to feel his presence. “The world’s still out there, waiting for you to wake up. But for now,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper “just sleep, for once," and with that, the tension in your body eased.

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❀

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theblackfemininesociety · 9 months ago

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Mastering Time Management: A Love Letter to Our Besties 💝

Hey there, beautiful souls of the BFS! 💋

As your accountability partner, it’s important we express how important it is to master one game-changing skill: time management. As we juggle our 9-5s, motherhood, college assignments, and entrepreneurial dreams, managing our time effectively can feel like an uphill battle. But fear not, because we are going to show you how mastering these skills can help us avoid burnout and lead us to a more balanced, fulfilling life.

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💤 Sleep is Your Superpower

Next up, let’s talk about the importance of sleep. We live in a society that often glorifies busyness, leading us to believe that sacrificing sleep is a badge of honor. But let’s get real: prioritizing sleep is crucial for our mental and physical health. Going to bed early allows your body to recharge, enhances your focus, and improves your mood.

When you wake up feeling refreshed, you’re more productive, creative, and ready to tackle whatever life throws your way. Plus, a good night’s sleep can help you approach challenges with a clear mind, reducing the chances of feeling overwhelmed.

😵‍💫 Avoiding Burnout

Now, let’s connect the dots: mastering time management helps us avoid burnout. When we learn to manage our time effectively, we create space for self-care, relaxation, and time with our loved ones. This is especially important for our 9-5 warriors, multitasking mothers, ambitious college students, and fierce entrepreneurs.

By prioritizing tasks, setting boundaries, and scheduling breaks, you’ll find that you can accomplish more without feeling drained. This balanced approach will not only improve your productivity but also allow you to enjoy the journey. After all, life is meant to be lived, not just endured!

Ladies, let’s commit to mastering time management together. Grab that planner, prioritize your sleep, and watch how these small changes can lead to significant transformations in your life.

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hermajestyimher · 11 months ago

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How do I stop letting depression/anxiety control me and how I view myself? I’ve gotten better, but I just feel like my appearance has so much control over me. I am black, but I’ve just been so insecure of my nose and it being on the bigger side, especially compared to other black women (this isn’t to out them down or anything! I think they are absolutely beautiful people and I love them :D). I just feel like I’ve been dealt such a bad hand in life by being unattractive and that all my hardships especially with my relationship with others (romantic and platonic) just stem from me being/feeling unattractive and being a naturally awkward person doesn’t help. I constantly day dream about being a woman like Anok Yai or even someone with the sort of energy as Mia goth. I don’t want this to turn into some pity post, but I want to be able to be beautiful while also replacing this awkward personality of mines. This feels super childish and all over the place, but I just feel a little lost with myself and who I am.

So TLDR is: How do I become/start feeling attractive and become a more confident and charismatic person? Thank you and Im so sorry for the messiness of this post!

Hi my love, it sounds like you need to do a lot of self-concept work to change your internal dialogue and improve how you see yourself. It's essential to build a strong foundation of self-worth and confidence that isn't easily shaken by external influences. Here are some practical steps you can take to begin this transformative process:

1. Eliminate All Forms of Negative Stimuli

One of the first steps in enhancing your self-concept is eliminating the stimuli that contribute to self-doubt. This involves a thorough examination of what you consume daily, whether it’s media, people, or experiences. Start by unfollowing individuals and accounts on social media that make you feel inadequate or pressured to conform to unrealistic standards. Pay attention to how certain songs or films make you feel; if they perpetuate feelings of self-doubt or insecurity, consider removing them from your playlist.

It's crucial to be mindful of what you're feeding your mind. Often, we internalize negative messages without realizing it. These can come from people who appear close to us or through entertainment that subtly promotes insecurity. Perform a detailed assessment of who you’re listening to and determine if their influence is healthy. If not, create distance, whether that means unfollowing them online or spending less time with them in person. Surround yourself with people and content that uplift and inspire you rather than bring you down.

Pro Tip: Make a list of accounts, shows, and songs you consume regularly, and categorize them into “Positive,” “Neutral,” and “Negative.” Actively replace those in the “Negative” category with something positive.

2. Surround Yourself with Positive and Aspirational Content

After you've cleared out negative influences, it's time to replace them with content that uplifts and inspires you. Look for media and role models that align with your aspirations. This could mean following influencers who promote body positivity, self-love, or healthy lifestyles. Find women who embody the qualities you admire and whose lifestyles you aspire to emulate.

Comparison, when used wisely, can motivate us to strive for more. Instead of comparing yourself to others out of insecurity, use it as a tool for growth. Observe the habits, routines, and mindsets of those you admire, and learn from them. Incorporate their positive traits into your life in a way that feels authentic to you.

Additionally, consider expanding your social circle by engaging in environments where aspirational people frequent, such as networking events, workshops, or fitness classes. Being around people who have achieved what you’re aiming for can provide real-life inspiration and show you that your goals are attainable.

Pro Tip: Create a vision board or digital collage of people and things that inspire you. Include images, quotes, and achievements you aspire to. This visual reminder can be a powerful motivator.

3. Reprogram Your Mind with Positive Affirmations

Changing your internal dialogue is critical for improving your self-concept. One effective method is using subliminals and affirmations, which can help rewire your brain with positive messages. These techniques work by bypassing the conscious mind and directly influencing the subconscious, gradually replacing negative beliefs with empowering ones.

Find subliminal audios or affirmation tracks that resonate with you and your goals. For instance, if you're working on self-confidence, look for recordings that focus on self-assurance and self-love. I recommend listening to this one for about 30 minutes daily, ideally in the morning when you wake up or right before bedtime when your subconscious is most receptive. You can find a variety of these resources online, just be careful to read the comments before listening to ensure the affirmations are safe and vetted by others.

As you integrate these practices, remember that consistency is key. Regular exposure to positive affirmations will slowly build a new mindset, one that's more aligned with your true worth and potential. You can also use affirmations to help change your physical appearance as well.

Pro Tip: Write down a set of personal affirmations that resonate with you. Repeat them to yourself every morning and evening as a daily ritual. This practice will reinforce positive beliefs about yourself and your abilities.

4. Improve Your Physical Health

Taking care of your physical well-being is a vital aspect of boosting self-concept. Exercise regularly, not just for physical benefits but also for the mental and emotional gains that come with it. Engaging in physical activity releases endorphins, reduces stress, and builds self-discipline, all of which contribute to a stronger sense of self-worth.

Create a balanced workout routine that you enjoy and can stick to consistently. Whether it’s yoga, running, weightlifting, or dance, find what resonates with you and keeps you motivated. Pair this with a nutritious diet that fuels your body and mind, helping you feel energized and confident.

Remember, discipline in maintaining a healthy lifestyle not only improves your physical appearance but also enhances your mental resilience and self-discipline. These are foundational qualities that contribute to a greater sense of life satisfaction and fulfillment.

Pro Tip: Set realistic fitness goals and track your progress. Celebrate small victories along the way to stay motivated and recognize how far you’ve come.

5. Cultivate Self-Acceptance and Reject Self-Pity

Finally, the ultimate goal is to cultivate a mindset of self-acceptance and reject any form of self-pity. Pity is a toxic emotion that disempowers you and feeds into a cycle of negativity. Recognize that your worth is intrinsic and not solely dependent on external validation or appearance.

Understand that you have the power to transform your life through consistent effort and self-belief. Your value is not determined by how you look or by the opinions of others, but by your inherent qualities and the actions you take to improve yourself. Embrace the fact that you are wonderfully made, unique, and deserving of love and success.

Pro Tip: Practice gratitude daily by acknowledging your strengths and achievements. Keep a journal where you write down three things you are grateful for each day. This practice will shift your focus from self-criticism to self-appreciation.

Remember that the journey to a positive self-concept is ongoing and requires patience and commitment. As you embark on this path, know that you are not alone and that every step you take towards self-improvement brings you closer to becoming the best version of yourself. Keep your head up, stay true to your values, and be proud of the person you are becoming.

You are not lesser than anybody else; you are wonderfully made, and you should be glad to be who you are.

#asks and answers

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nexstage · 4 months ago

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Stars and Pyramids AU

The plushie

“And those were some of the effects of the instability of the USA economy during the Vietnam War. Now, as homework, I want a 10000-word essay about some of the most controversial methods used to improve the economy during that time. It’ll be for next Friday so take your time but don’t leave it at the last hour, ok? Good luck, kids!”

Right after the teacher bid them farewell, Mabel stored her stuff back into her bag pack and got up. The report for anyone, including her, resembled a giant looming on a defenseless village, but she had enough experience to face such huge tasks, especially because adapting to high school life without Dipper taught her to find ways to keep her grades decent no matter the subject. Although, if someone asked her, math and science were overrated at this point.

A piece of paper fell to the ground during her walk through the hallways. A bit of its contents warned her about the importance of the paper; her hand shot to to pick it up until another one grabbed it by the corner.

“Yeeesh, Mabes. You need to be more careful. Littering can be a big problem, you know?” A male voice teased her. The girl blushed a bit, thanking the boy sheepishly.

“Hey, Josh,” She brightened after recognizing him. “Excited for the new report?”

“Ennui and that are kind of the same thing. I bet that long, tedious essays will be the synonym for boredom one of these days.”

“Haha, yeah.” She smiled, scratching her head. Summer romance and romance in general had become a truck of good and bad memories, hidden in a corner of her mind. Meeting Josh in one of her classes, on the other hand, wasn’t that bad. She could admit she liked him but falling in love went to another level Mabel wasn’t interested in anymore.

She pondered endlessly if maturing and growing up had pushed away her desire for a romantic relationship. That fateful summer in Gravity Falls played in her head lots of times showing her Mermando, Gabe, the gnomes disguised, Gideon, helping Robbie get over Wendy, Dipper’s impossible crush on Wendy. The circumstances that built the romance around those memories were far beyond anything she had expected in a summer far away from home. From time traveler agents and devices to a hippy version of Cupid, you could say things were too messy for a real romance.

So yeah, in the past, romance was all over the place for Mabel. Now, bigger issues have replaced it. For example, keeping secret the fact that such a piece of paper possessed the design for Bill’s plushie.

“Hey, any reason why you were drawing a cartoonish version of the Eye of Providence? Are you into the Illuminati conspiracy theory or something?” Well, not that secret anymore, but Josh’s ideas were less than accurate.

“…Just a design for an experiment. I want to start my own business. A yarn plushie business!” She drew an arc above her to accentuate her words. “I think Instagram would be great to get everyone’s attention. Lots of followers and maybe one or two influencers!”

“Awesome! That gives me a cool idea! I have a cousin who has been working for an online business. She’s great at digital marketing and digital design. Maybe she can give you some tips.”

“That would be great,” Mabel tried to keep her smile as bright as she used to be despite the guilt from the lies. “But maybe later, Josh. There is a huge report to do and I want to get an A+. Anyway, have a good weekend!”

“You too,” he waved, grinning.

Mabel was relieved her hurry didn’t instigate any suspicion which worsened the guilt. She’d better begin with both things quickly or the weight of the lies would leave her unable to sleep.

============

One thing Mabel wished right now, as she was engraving ancient runes in stones she had picked on the way home, was to have those tools artists used to carve in wood and rocks. Maybe indelible markers would’ve been better than knives but if she wanted this spell to be cast smoothly, she had to take necessary measures.

“Ouch!” A few droplets of blood dampened the carpet. Thank goodness it was dark red. She hurried up to the bathroom, washed her hands thoroughly, and put a bandaid on the wound. “Just two more stones and then I’ll make the Spell Core.”

She snorted at that name. It was one of her ideas after Bill showed her the runes. While it sounded fancy and mysterious in a fantasy-like way, the premise was simple: connect all the rune-engraved stones with yarn. It would be a rustic collar but she would put it inside the plushie to serve as a battery once Bill possessed it.

Honestly, it was kind of weird and convoluted. Why not just make a deal with her to possess one of her dolls or plushies? However, she’d rather knit a body for Bill to inhabit than let him near her beloved stuffed toys. She’d have to ask him later.

4 hours of hand-crafting later and the collar and the plushie were done. A wave of pride washed over her at her creations; a conflict surfaced in her heart knowing who would benefit from this but as long as she pushed on the deal to be communicated with Bill, maybe he wouldn’t do something catastrophic. Anyway, it was time to fill the plushie with fluff and the collar, and then once she contacted Bill, the rest would be easy.

“Now… My homework,” her hands were kind of exhausted from the knitting and making the Spell Core; alas, that A+ wasn’t going to be obtained with complaining so maybe a few more hours of research and draft writing before a little break.

============

“You know, if you want our deal to be more interesting and beneficial to your love life, I could give you some advice on how to charm a guy. Or maybe make him fall to his knees for you~” Bill’s smuggy voice caught her by surprise. Since when they had made contact? Wasn’t she writing?!

Her eyes landed on the triangle who raised his hands, offended. “Hey, I love good mischief here and there, but my relocation is imperative so pissing you off is not the best idea. Besides, your desk and chair looked kind of comfy, didn’t they? No wonder we’re in the Mindscape right now.”

“Ugh! I can’t believe I fell asleep!”

“Look at the bright side, we can talk now. I’ve been getting a bit impatient, Star. You don’t wanna know how fast the Void is advancing.”

Mabel grimaced. “How long do we have until everything is a void?”

“A few months if we’re fast but I wouldn’t push my luck.”

“Then let’s put you inside the plushie already. I have some questions about it but that’ll be for later.” Bill suspected what kind of questions she would ask; he said nothing.

“Ok, step 1, draw a circle with my face and place the doll inside. Step 2, the incantation: leehw gnireets s’lliB,knil erihppas,llehs lairetaM.”

“Whaaaaaat? Is this another language?”

“No, I made the message backward. The original is ‘Material link, sapphire link, Bill’s steering wheel’.”

“How do you expect me to say an incantation backward?”

Shit. That’s right. This would be her first time using backward spells. “Ok, let’s make teaching you how to talk backward step 1. We’ll give it a few hours before you go to sleep and then we’ll begin the ritual.”

“Couldn’t it be on Saturday? What if Dad finds out about this? I don’t know how I will explain whatever I’m doing.”

“No no, Shooting Star, it has to be now. Trust me, this won’t cause a ruckus. Mistakes aren’t allowed in my relocation.”

She sighed. Oh well…

=============

3 am. Mabel had to congratulate herself for the feat of staying awake at such an ungodly hour despite the huge madness she was going to commit. And let’s not include who was her partner in this!

Bill’d better not scream in ecstasy because if he did, she’d burn the plushie with him in it. Wait, would that kill him? Never mind.

“Ritual circle? Check. Plushie and Spell Core? Check. Backward incantation? Kind of check? Ugh! Don’t screw this up, Mabel. Just focus.” She sat cross-legged in front of the circle, inhaled and exhaled deeply, and began. “Leehw gnireets s’lliB,knil erihppas,llehs lairetam. Leehw gnireets s’lliB,knil erihppas,llehs lairetam. Leehw gnireets s’lliB,knil erihppas,llehs lairetam. leehw gnireets s’lliB,knil erihppas,llehs lairetam. Leehw gnireets s’lliB,knil erihppas,llehs lairetam.”

She didn’t know how many times she repeated the sentence but the tip of her fingers felt a mix of glacier coldness and seething hotness. A spark of electricity popped out from the lines of the circle, an intense brightness emanated from the lines of Bill’s face and it crept into the plushie until it changed its color from yellow to dark blue.

Now the brightness has surpassed the levels of a neon sign from Las Vegas but Mabel didn’t let that distract her as she kept chanting endlessly. A few minutes later, her room and she were consumed by a blue-ish flash that went as fast as the blink of an eye.

A loud gasp was heard right after. “What the—?” Bill looked at himself. His cartoonish black legs and arms were now a mix of black yarn and thin rods. The rest of his body felt squishy and light. Even his eye had other consistency.

“It…It worked… Oh my gosh! It worked!!” Mabel exclaimed then clapped her hands over her mouth. She glanced at the door expecting his father to knock and ask why she shouted or if she had a nightmare. Thankfully, he didn’t.

“Welp, I have to hand it to you, kid. You have a talent for magic!” His hands touched the yarn-made top hat from his temporal body. More thin rods were also used to give it more structure like his limbs.

Aww, that was sweet! Even if it came from a maniacal, genocidal, talking nacho. “Good news is that no one else noticed this, but now that you’re in my house, you must stay as quiet. Super duper quiet. Also, tomorrow we’ll have an interview because there is something that isn’t adding up. For now, let’s just sleep.”

“Sleep?” Bill blew a raspberry. “Kid, have you forgotten—?” Too late. Mabel was already sleeping on the soft carpet.

Great. Perfect even, she is making him wait! Ugh!

===========

Meanwhile on Gravity Falls…

A high-pitched, loud beep echoed in the lab beneath the shack. A sci-fi-looking computer-radar showed in its black screen a singular point and a bit above it there was a sentence saying, “Unknown. Piedmont, California.”

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #gravity falls prompt #bill cipher #mabel pines #canon divergence au #dipper and mabel vs the future au #OC for gravity falls

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sabianandocs · 3 months ago

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Hey broski, how do you draw so fast?? You make extremely technically impressive works like, every two days. I have multi-month-old sketches! How do you do it?

Anyhoodle, toodaloo and please have a truly wonderful day/evening! ^ ^

Ah, well you see my friend-

I am. Going insane.

No but for real I'm just extremely lucky to have the skillset that allows me to spit out art pretty quick! Part of it is definitely fueled by the hyperfixation; when something gets ahold of my brain and I have ideas for it I just kinda have to make them. I can't do anything else until I get them down on paper or digital canvas. So, some of my artworks do take 6+ hours to throw together, I just happen to have done it all in one sitting like a maniac.

The other part of it is that! Art is fun to me! I don't stress out about every single detail being good, which makes it a lot easier to make stuff kind of quickly. I've also been doing this a long long time, so I've learned a lot of things that make the process faster for me (example; rather than coloring inside my lineart by hand, I fill in any gaps and then use the 'magic wand' tool to select the outside of the lineart- the negative space, that I don't want colored- and then invert it and use a huge brush to color the whole thing in in one go. Then I just set that layer to 'alpha lock' so it's literally impossible to color outside the lines. Saves a lot of time! I still have to be careful keeping colors inside the lines that are inside of that area, but it's less to keep track of)

It would take me a whole lot of paragraphs to explain my whole process, and there are probably things I do that I don't even think about that make things faster without me realizing. But, really, the main thing I think is just that I've been drawing for so long, and I also happen to just be lucky.

Another way I speed up my process, I think, is just that I'm familiar enough with certain concepts (like, for example, how a jacket sleeve folds) that I can draw those things with fair confidence without needing to do a sketch underneath, or I've come up with a simplified way to draw them that doesn't take as long as sketching out all the technical stuff. Just because I've drawn them so many times before.

So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that the time it takes is less between individual pieces, for me, and more all of the years and years of practice that you don't see that got me to the point where I'm able to draw that fast.

Also, you think my art is technically impressive???

That's a huge complement, thank you! I'm trying really hard not to imposter syndrome myself over here, but I definitely still see my art as being very rudimentary. I was really slow to get good at art (like, years and years of just garbage), and sometimes I still feel like I'm stuck at that level of 'fine, but not great'- especially because I'm able to work so fast; it kind of feels like, well, if I'm able to make it that quick then it can't really be good. BUt!!! That is not true!!! And it's bad to say that about myself because then other artists who are like me will feel bad and they shouldn't!! Everyone works at a different pace and it's not an indicator of skill or quality, it's just another stat on your skilltree

Anyway. Thank you very much! I hope this post was?? Helpful?? Or at least entertaining! I hope you also have a wonderful day/evening!

#answering asks #answered ask #doodles #Sabian's Sketchbook

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e-squared-what-is-my-life · 29 days ago

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Building off that anon, perhaps one of the group get injured in the nerves and Taski comes ny like "I can help ＼(^-^)／" but they don't trust her till like she pushes through cause the person is dying abd she knows that person and just. Girl bosses her way through the surgery

Everyone Gets Surprised in This Murder Family. EVERYONE.

"How did you even manage to do this to yourself?"

Froggy huffed and crossed his arms, refusing to look at any of his coworkers as they tended to his glitching leg. He'd somehow managed to pinch a digital nerve, and the specialist they’d called had to cancel due to a surgery running into this last-minute call. Now the group was left to watch as Froggy's leg thrashed around and caused him to grunt in pain every so often.

"Those damned Prankster Entities. Never know when to quit." Froggy grumbled, sounding like the old man everyone liked to claim he was. He jumped slightly as a sharp pain ran through his body, feeling like a jolt of electricity from an eel. "I'll be lucky if I can get out of this with even a bit of leg left."

"You shouldn't have to amputate if someone operates correctly." Taski hummed, looking over the damaged leg and squinting her eyes.

"Yes, which is exactly why we may need to amputate." Suspicious Man hummed, watching with interest as Taski tugged on Coral's tie twice, which seemed to trigger an instinctive reaction of the skittish woman printing out a collection of papers about... something. "This hardly seems like the time to catch up on reading. Heavy or otherwise."

"I need to jumpstart my knowledge of nerve reparation before I start operating." Taski replied, dutifully ignoring the loud cackle that came from RENA's Meanie Face.

"Wait. Are you serious?" RENA asked, snorting as Taski shot her a quick, unimpressed glance. "Oh, wow. THIS I gotta see!"

"NO! It's MY BODY! I'm not letting that crazy woman screw it up more!" Froggy shouted, glaring as Coral Glasses hummed and blushed, fanning her face almost dramatically.

"Oh, trust me, Froggy." Coral giggled- yes, downright giggled -as she leant against her employer. "Taski can OPERATE."

"Ew." Froggy muttered, gently nudging Coral away before shaking his head. "No! I am not going to le- AGH! SON OF A STREET CORN!"

"Looks like there's still feeling in the leg. That's good." Taski hummed as she reached into her bag, which she'd somehow managed to maneuver in front of her without anyone noticing or mentioning it. The two little fellas (or, Bitty Buddies, as Claire had so lovingly dubbed them) kept to the edge of the bag, helping Taski locate certain items when she requested it. "Since that's the case this will likely end up being a quick and easy rearranging of nerve placement!"

"You keep talking like you know what you're saying, yet I still have a hard time trusting you." Froggy admitted, not one for beating around the bush with his emotions. "Would you happen to have any references?"

Taski shot a look to Coral, who was hanging off her like a leech.

"References that aren't your biased and horny girlfriend." Froggy huffed, grunting with surprise in response to the papers that were shoved into his arms. He read over each word carefully, becoming more and more amazed with each of Taski's apparent achievements as the seconds passed. "What in Runas' name?"

"And... Done!" Taski cheered, finishing up a stitch and making sure it was properly dressed before placing the used tools back in her bag. It was wash day anyhow, Coral wouldn't mind, especially not while she was in this state of mind. "Good as new! I wouldn't recommend putting too much pressure on it for the next two weeks, though."

"What?" Froggy asked, whipping his attention to his now mended leg and gaping along with everyone else.

Even Suspicious Man seemed shocked.

"Yep! Quick thinking of me to distract you with references, huh?" Taski giggled, pressing a kiss to the back of Coral's left hand and squealing as it earned her a barrage of kisses to the cheek. "I told you it wouldn't be difficult."

"But... but you... How?" RENA asked breathlessly, wondering how, exactly, she'd managed to go this long without knowing such pertinent information about Taski.

"I got bored." Taski simply replied. "Plus, everyone says I'm good at getting on people's nerves, so why not capitalize on something I'm good at?"

"These are peer-reviewed papers. Your collaborators are some of the most well known scientists and surgeons in the Second Ring." Kane whispered.

"Yeah, isn't she great?" Coral happily sighed, the polyps on her face stretching out and tickling Taski's face in their own little cutesy version of a kiss. "I think someone deserves a reward for making the operation so wonderfully painless."

"That someone is me, right?" Taski hopefully asked, laughing triumphantly as Coral replied with a loving "Of course, silly~".

As the couple disappeared down the Hub's corridor, they left a confused gaggle of assassins and loiterers in their wake.

What. The hell. Was that?

#ENA Joel G #ENA Dream BBQ #Taski Maiden #Coral Glasses #Taskicoral #Froggy ENA Dream BBQ #Suspicious Man #Don't Underestimate the Wacky Woman #Her Girlfriend Won't Allow It!

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lu-lus-dicks · 1 year ago

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Idk what to call this so you make up the title

@huskers-bar x @nunalastor

Tags: enemies to lovers, angst?, eventual fluff, yearning?, soft huskers-bar, both mods are separate people, no beta we die like i do in this fic (not yet though), minor character death, ooc, au: hellaverse (hazbin hotel), nunalastor is head of the marketing department of the hazbin hotel (lucifer grabbed them randomly), jealousy?, huskers-bar is an employee at voxtek, lulu and angie as villains, lulu is a dog

chapter: 1/? Word count: 1,431

Featuring: babygirl anon and (eventually) @xxx-angie . I may add more along the way depending on who wants to be added. I can probably shoe-horn-in a few more characters

For the sake of not tagging people a million times, I will call nunalastor as a single entity nunalastor, traumatized mod dickmaster and cursed mod nun. and huskers-bar just husk. babygirl anon will be babygirl anon. i will be shortened to lulu but I don't appear in this fic yet. Angie doesn't appear yet, but he will be angie.

A/N: anyway this is 100% going to be a huskers-bar harem fic because i can write whatever i want. This first chapter kinda boring but it gets better (source: trust me bro). Lemme know if you'd like to see any changes. Anyway, goodbye for now. I have uni to get to so less frequent posting (sorry dickmaster, you'll have to live without any of my horrid art for a little while)

"Did you know that Alastor made a happy deer squeak during this scene?"

Ah, yes, the words that twist people's dreams into nightmares. Innocent innitially, and maybe even amusing for a good while, but the longer one lingered, the more their skin would crawl with irritation and burn their insides. Especially when one knew the context surrounding this particular phrase. And boy, did Nunalastor know the context.

"Another day, another inbox to slay, another heavenly lord to betray" Dickmaster accessed their and Nun's shared blog, unsurprisingly to hundreds if not thousands of asks invading their inbox, all of which were echoes of different variations of *thumps* and *squeaks*. If Nunalastor hadn't already grown accustomed to such deviancy, they would be horrified. Still, the depraved ideas these people came up with never failed to send shivers down their spine, and not the pleasant kind.

And why do they subject themselves to this? you may ask. It was simple. In exchange for free housing, food and supplies, Lucifer Morningstar, the devil himself and father of Charlie Morningstar had requested their help. You see, originally their blog was not this unfortunate cesspool of deranged demons who wanted to see the devil, overlords and sinners squirm under immense sexual pleasure. It used to be a simple marketing tool for the Hazbin hotel, but as all things in hell, it never goes smoothly. It wasn't like they had a choice in the matter anyway, refusing the king of hell's requests was not an option! His commands were absolute.

Dickmaster took one deep breath, running both hands through their hair and clearing their mind, preparing for probably several hours of torture that was going to be their asks. They poured themselves a drink, setting down in front of their screen. Taking a few moments to relish the silence, they closed their eyes and listened to the soft hum of their beaten up 1950's style computer, courtesy of Alastor's ban on Voxtek products at the hotel. Clicking on their inbox tab, they mentally braced themselves. even if they knew, they could never truly predict the horrors hell had to offer.

"time for #housekeeping" They declared, stretching their fingers, getting their reaction images on the ready and sifting through their own version of digital hell. It would only get worse from here.

As Nunalastor started to clean their digital home, erasing one cursed ask after another, responding to one alastor circus theory after another, One ask in particular caught their attention. It was definitely a surprise, and a welcome one at that. It stood out like a sore thumb, simple yet elegant, divine and a blessing among heaps of cursed messages that would have asmodeus and satan themselves shaking in fear.

"hi dickmaster" - anon

Nunalastor couldn't explain it. They don't know what came over them, but they felt a strange sense of attraction to this one particular anon. They were sweet, they gave them a place of solace from the dread that was piss kink headcanons and cursed deer facts, equivelent of the clogged up plumming disasters alastor had to fix with his bare hands at the Hazbin hotel. It was the piece of gold nugget hidden in a swamp full of moss and dog urine.

Dickmaster stared at the message for a good few seconds, really taking in the plainness and beauty of the two words before their eyes, appriciating all that message was as a small smile made its way up their face. This called for a special occasion. Dickmaster gripped their keyboard, nearly smashing it with the force. Their fingers danced along the keys and crafted a response like no other, one worthy of this random anon that managed to make their day a bit brighter.

"Hi babygirl" - Nunalastor

On the other side of the pentagram, a kind, sweet and not at all deranged huskers was scrolling through hells version of tumblr. Voxtek devices had proven to be quite useful in the underworld. It served as the main source of entertainment and escape for the lonely, not only for husk, but other sinners alike. Besides, being an employee meant he had extra privileges with Voxtek. Regardless, it introduced husk to the nunalastor blog, which was the best moment of their life (or lack thereof, considering they're dead).

They'd quickly grown accustomed to the undeserved hate thrown their way upon their first ever interractioin. Though they didn't understand, they could play along. They found strange comfort in the twisted logic that any form of attention was better than none. After all, being singled out meant they were special in the eyes of Nunalastor, right? that's how husk comforted themselves anyway. And they haven't seen Nunalastor actually reply to anyone with actual love before.

That is... until it happened. Someone who would later reveal themselves as babygirl anon, husks worst adversary and the unfortunate victim of lulu's slander showed up on their feed.

"hi dickmaster" - anon

"Hi babygirl" - Nunalastor

Husk stared at the screen in shock, their eyes widening and heart growing heavy. Countless questions and conflicting emotions swirled within them, each clutching their hold for attention. 'Is nunalastor serious? Do I not want them to be serious? Why can't I be treated the same? What did I do?' And amidst the chaos, one thought rose to the surface, crystal clear in Husk's mind.

'I want to be loved like that'

The frustration of being at the end of every one of Nunalastors verbal spears finally caught up to husk. Every small jab they'd written off as jokes suddenly felt like small pin needles scraping their skin. Unable to deal with the whirlwind of emotions and the confusion of it all, Husk sought solace in the one place they could always trust, the bottom of a bottle.

So they took a swig. And another. And another. Intil there wasn't a shred of emotion left to feel. Not a single thread of frustration left in them, not a nerve of anguish, not a line of confusing verbal spewage...

And not even a speck of self-restraint

"THEY JUST KEEP COMING" Dickmaster exclaimed, more like yelled as their inbox was flooded with more cursed asks at a rate faster than they could answer. At this pace, they'll be there all day, answering these asks like a poor overworked minimum wage employee at a call center.

"They'll run out of ideas eventually" Nun responded, nonchalantly, leaning against a nearby wall, sipping on a drink of their own. Nun watched as dickmaster struggled to find another reaction image fast enough so they could call it quits and leave the rest of the struggles for future Nunalastor to handle, or more accurately when it would be nun's turn to answer all the unhinged people in their inbox.

The hurried clicking of the keys on a keyboard could be heard throughout the entire room, bouncing off the walls, reflecting exactly how much infestation was actually happening in nunalastors inbox by the minute. "it would be great if you could answer a few you know, my fingers are dyin-"

And then it suddenly went quiet. The clicking died down and the unbelievably loud buzzing of their computer, along with the hitched breathing of Dickmaster was the only sound bouncing around the room. Nun of course raised a brow at this. "what's the holdup? we can't afford to take a break you know" they said, as if they were the one answering all of the asks in the first place.

nun walked over, curious as to what exactly had stopped dickmaster in his endless pursuit of emptying their inbox, considering they were always the more enthusiastic one of the two. "are you okay?" nun asked, half sarcastically. Their eyes landed over the current ask in their inbox.

"I wish you'd love me" huskers-bar

and suddenly the silence made sense. the pause had been a justified one.

dickmaster inhaled, followed by a deep and saddened exhale. they didn't want to take their eyes off of those five words. they could stare in awe and amazement at them for hours. it wasn't even the fact that it was just another ask that wasn't cursed, but because it was huskers-bar that sent-

a hand on dickmasters shoulder snaps them out of their daze, being brought back to reality, the pitiful reality. they were in hell for a reason, they reminded themselves.

"you remember our deal, don't you, dickmaster?" nuns voice cut through the buzzing, sounding deep, gruff, threatening and slightly saddened.

"yes of course" dickmaster turned back to the monitor, giving one last look at the ask before typing out what nunalastor has agreed would be the appropriate response.

"you'll get over it. #we are a huskers-bar hate blog"

#i'm kind of sorry but i cant take writing seriously when i called one of yous dickmaster askfdjaslkdfjoasidjgf #huskers-bar x nunalastor #i hope at least. idk i dont read this shit back to myself. my self esteem is low enough already #lulu is delulu #nunwhiskers

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mariacallous · 2 months ago

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Artificial intelligence may be technology’s hottest topic—more important than electricity or fire, according to Google CEO Sundar Pichai—but another has a plausible claim to second. Digital public infrastructure, or DPI, does not loom as large as AI in the public or policymakers’ consciousness. Yet its recent adoption and impact—quieter, stealthier—are arguably as significant. According to Bill Gates, “DPI is revolutionizing the way entire nations serve their people, respond to crises, and grow their economies.” The United Nations Development Programme describes it as “a potential game-changer.”

Last October, a Global DPI Summit, the first of its kind, attracted more than 700 participants to the outskirts of Cairo; many were developing-world policymakers and entrepreneurs. They were drawn by a technology that has seen rapid uptake in countries as varied as Brazil, India, Ethiopia, Morocco, the Philippines, and Zambia. The spread of DPI has been especially noteworthy in the global south, where there are fears that the advent of AI could leave the region further behind the West in the realm of digital tech. Coming after a long litany of false promises and misapplied technology in the developing world, DPI may represent one of the first successful large-scale interventions to ease poverty, transform government services, and unleash innovation.

Beyond these specific benefits, DPI may also have broader, global ramifications. In an increasingly bifurcated technical landscape, characterized by superpower contestation and a crippling lack of cooperation, DPI offers something more constructive—the digital equivalent of the Non-Aligned Movement, perhaps, and a model for a more collaborative, inclusive digital ecosystem. The approach is not without its own risks and challenges; but done right, it could help revitalize that beleaguered and increasingly vilified phenomenon that we know as the internet.

Like many nascent technologies, DPI’s precise definition remains something of a work in progress. Conceived narrowly, the term relates to a set of publicly available tools for digital payments, identity, and data exchange, all combined in an integrated digital “stack.” More recently, a number of other domains and functions have been mooted as additions to this stack, including modules for education, agriculture, and energy conservation. Rather than a specific set of functions, then, DPI is perhaps most helpfully thought of as an approach—a “way of thinking,” as some have put it. In this broader conception, the goal of DPI is to shift certain core operations in the digital world—e.g., payments or authentication—from private to public management, so that they more closely resemble infrastructure. The World Bank calls DPI “common digital plumbing”; others draw analogies with roads or railway tracks. The underlying premise is that control of today’s digital ecosystem is overly concentrated in a handful of companies and states. DPI aims to redistribute the balance of power and provide a new foundation (“infrastructure”) for both public and private innovation.

Despite its recent prominence, DPI has arguably been around for at least a decade (even if it wasn’t always called as such—the term has really gained currency only over the last two or three years). India, the country most commonly associated with the approach, launched Aadhaar, its identity scheme, in 2009. Today, more than 1.3 billion Aadhaar cards have been issued, making it one of the more remarkable adoption stories in global technology. Estonia created X-Road, its widely adopted data exchange layer, in 2001. Brazil, another country frequently associated with the approach, launched its digital payments system, Pix, in 2020. DPI’s slow, incremental build has recently accelerated. According to a DPI map produced by David Eaves and colleagues at University College, London, over 100 countries now have (or are in the process of implementing) various forms of DPI.

There are many reasons for the enthusiasm. Policymakers have long looked to digital payments as a way to reduce “leakage” (a euphemism for corruption and other inefficiencies). By some estimates, DPI has saved the Indian government $34 billion by cutting out middlemen and reducing red tape. Advocates of DPI also cite its potential to foster inclusion—for example, by bringing the unbanked into the formal economy and enabling low- or zero-fee micropayments for small businesses. DPI has also benefited from good timing: Its star rose considerably during COVID, amid a general move toward a cashless economy.

Perhaps the biggest, if often unrecognized, catalyst for the approach has been a shifting geopolitical climate, especially as it has affected global technology governance over the last decade or so. Once upon a time, decisions about the internet were primarily reached through technocratic consensus, at bodies like the Internet Engineering Task Force, the Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers (ICANN), or the International Telecommunication Union. This largely—if not entirely—depoliticized approach meant that technical standards and frameworks were chosen mostly on their merits, rather than because of national or ideological interest. (ICANN’s early 2000s adoption of international domain names to support non-Latin scripts was a good example.) That approach has all but broken down. Technology is increasingly central to public life, and technology policy has by extension become an instrument of statecraft. The internet and its underlying infrastructure are today subjects of heated geopolitical contestation, battles between what Columbia law professor Anu Bradford calls competing “digital empires.”

China and the United States are the biggest of these empires (Bradford also lists the European Union), and their increasingly zero-sum struggle to dominate virtually every aspect of technology—from standards to chips to privacy—has resulted in something of a digital Cold War. A new “virtual Berlin Wall” has arisen, forcing countries to choose sides between the unregulated mercantilism of American Big Tech and a statist, surveillance-based Chinese model. Beijing offers the developing world favorable financing and subsidized equipment, but these gifts (part of the country’s Digital Silk Road initiative) come laden with perils such as a loss of privacy and national autonomy. The alternative is often hardly more palatable: American tech companies pose very much the same risks. As Patrick Achi, the former prime minister of Ivory Coast, recently explained, countries like his are caught on the horns of a dilemma. “We are like subjects, without good choices,” he said. “Our digital futures are being determined in the big power centers.”

On this scorched landscape, DPI offers a welcome alternative—a potential “third way,” as the Dutch politician and commentator Marietje Schaake recently put it, a means for countries to chart their own course when it comes to managing data, digitizing government, and customizing applications to local needs. A budding ecology in Bengaluru now offers countries open-source modules and technical assistance to implement locally managed DPI solutions. These include the Modular Open Source Identity Platform, which allows countries to repurpose code for digital identities, and the recently launched “DPI-as-a-packaged-solution,” or DaaS, designed for “plug-and-play” implementation. Estonia’s open-source X-Road is likewise used by over 20 countries, including Cambodia, Brazil, Namibia, and Madagascar.

Such examples of modular, customizable, and domestically controlled software are particularly useful for smaller countries that have less technical and financial capacity. (Trinidad and Tobago, for example, is the first country to implement DaaS.) They make it easier to digitize economies, and they reduce the risks of superpower dependency. Because many of the tools are open source and interoperable, they also foster collaboration. Regional groupings such as the Gulf Cooperation Council, Association of Southeast Asian Nations, and the Caribbean Community have implemented or are considering cross-border integrations of identity and payment systems. India’s Unified Payments Interface has likewise been adopted in countries as varied as Nepal, Singapore, and France.

Technical integration is often symbiotic with political cooperation. By strengthening regional blocs and alliances, DPI may challenge the existing geopolitical order. For developing countries thus far at the mercy of superpowers and Big Tech, it holds out the prospects of achieving the much sought-after (yet often chimeric) goals of “digital sovereignty” and “digital independence.”

The DPI movement is young, still inchoate. As the approach gathers steam, its own limitations and challenges will become more apparent. Detractors point to the possibility of data breaches and other privacy violations, the risk that greater digitalization of public services could marginalize populations lacking technical literacy, and the danger that public investment could distort competition and markets. Every technical intervention represents a delicate balance of risk and opportunity; advocates of the approach argue that the right policies and governance frameworks can help bring out the positive potential of the technology.

The stakes of getting the balance right are huge—for the developing world, of course, but perhaps for the entire global digital ecosystem as well. The advent of AI has intensified geopolitical rivalries, and with them the risks of fragmentation, exclusion, and hyper-concentration that are already so prevalent. The prospects of a “Splinternet” have never appeared more real. The old dream of a global digital commons seems increasingly quaint; we are living amid what Yanis Varoufakis, the former Greek finance minister, calls “technofeudalism.”

DPI suggests it doesn’t have to be this way. The approach’s emphasis on loosening chokeholds, fostering collaboration, and reclaiming space from monopolies represents an effort to recuperate some of the internet’s original promise. At its most aspirational, DPI offers the potential for a new digital social contract: a rebalancing of public and private interests, a reorientation of the network so that it advances broad social goals even while fostering entrepreneurship and innovation. How fitting it would be if this new model were to emerge not from the entrenched powers that have so long guided the network, but from a handful of nations long confined to the periphery—now determined to take their seats at the table of global technology.

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matchesarelit · 1 year ago

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The Complexities Of Blue Raspberry (Chosen x Reader)

You were new to the convention exhibitor game, so maybe you could use a helping hand. or maybe that would be even more perplexing.

WC: 1.8k

Warnings: Mentions of stickiness on skin, tornado potatoes, gawking, NNN allusion apart from that pretty pg still...

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

~The 23rd of November~

Shrugging off your backpack you finally began to setup your stall, tiny displays and pinned up prints as well as a freshly printed banner adorned with your artist tag. This was the first convention you were attending as an exhibitor, showing off your creations, and despite years of attending such events your nerves were ablaze at the new context.

Shuffling around the space, tweaking millimeter misplacements that only existed in your own mind, you attempted to whittle away the hours until the doors of the con opened, having arrived as early as the staff would let you in. Sitting on the little stool behind the counter you made conversation with the lady to your left, and when she suggested the two of you cover each others stalls and trade off breaks, you wasted no time in agreeing. After an extended conversation over the ins and outs of working a con, she bid her goodbyes to finish setting up her stall.

Within minutes your focus was pulled away from your phone by a four syllable cough, 'Greetings goodly merchant, I noted your fresh face and believed I would do well to introduce myself as well as inform you of some things.

'So... you must be the new stall owner. I came over to introduce myself as well inform you of some things. first of all, this place is a freaking hellscape, the attendees can be greedy and the heat can get overwhelming.' As he paused you tool the chance to observe the man in front of you, he was built as all get out, with a wolf print shirt caging his biceps and an orange 'staff' lanyard dangling between his defined pecs. His stance was tense, only being highlighted by the tautness of his black jeans, as if he was perpetually ready for some kind of battle, digitized or otherwise; with a black foam katana hanging off of one hip and a 3DS on the other.

Glancing up to meet his eyes as he spoke up, you were met with his blackout wraparound sunglasses and the alluring mystery they caged. 'My role as a dedicated member of the convention staff, a highly elite squadron, is to ensure that everything runs perfectly for the attendees but especially the guests and superstar artists such as yourself.'

He seemed confident yet not cocky at his station and to say he seemed capable would be the understatement of the century.

'That is truly a great honor of a position, I am glad we have someone like you at our defence...' you trail off awaiting his name,

'My earthly name is Spencer Agnew, but my official title across all realms is 'The Chosen'.' he paused as he finished his comprehensive introduction, taking a deep bow in your direction before enquiring after your own name and after attesting to the beauty of it he took his leave, but not without making a point of swiping a business card from your display.

The trance that you were left in after his departure was almost all consuming and if you didn't love your craft as much as you did the first bright eyed con attendee looking around your stall would have blown past you without a thought. Yet, As the day truly began, the hours came and went with ease, slowing only on occasion that you caught a flash of his dark glasses or a curt nod in your direction.

Lunch came all to quickly and as Laura, the stall owner you spoke with earlier, asked you to cover the their table, before returning barely five minutes later stating that she was simply going to eat at her table. She, however, insisted that you take your time, so turning to retrieve your purse you checked around yourself, something you refuse to admit to yourself was a hopeful attempt to catch a glance of The Chosen, before strolling towards the convention centre door, eager to check out the food trucks set up outside.

-Its like I always say the best thing about con season is the Hurricane Potatoes-

So as you waited to the side of the truck for your salty snack, your focus was soon stolen by the figure of The Chosen standing across the courtyard, in line for a Slush Puppee, his own focus set upon the game in his hands. So after thanking the staff member for the stick of patatoey goodness, you moved to greet the man who as you walked over was pocketing his game. Standing next to him in line you fumbled out the best conversational prompt you could think of; 'So... you on your break as well?' He didn't startle at your voice simply turning to give a small yet genuine smile, 'indeed. I am attempting to cool down from the intensity of the heat inside.' You nodded along, even siting still the heat of the venue had taken a toll on you. 'I see you chose the Potato Tornado for your sustenance, Impressive choice. It will surely assist you in the coming hours of battle.' Although you considered the comparison slightly dire, with a shy thank you, you allowed the pair of you to fall into relative silence until, of course, you were handed your cups.

'So what flavor are you planning to get? and what would you recommend?' It was another relatively weak attempt to get the conversation going again but it seemed to work like a charm as he once again had that calmly confident look on his face as he spoke up...

'Well... the cola is of course a reliable choice but it is... inherently pedestrian, myself; I prefer the more intellectually complex Blue Raspberry. The very concept of such a flavor is something most will never be able to comprehend.' Lost in his spiel the brief graze of his fingers against yours as he took your cup and filled it alongside his own with the conceptually intense blue flavor, sent a chill up your arm and derailed any train of thought that could have you protesting. 'That being said I think you might be able to appreciate its beauty.' smiling you took the plastic in two hands, missing the way his shielded eyes met yours as the last word fell from his tongue., as you sipped briefly to acquaint yourself with the taste. 'Let me know what you think of it, perhaps we can discuss it later... over refills.' his tone was less of a question and more of a musing that hang in the air as he all but powerwalked back inside the venue leaving you lingering to the side of the trailer, mindlessly sipping the quickly melting neon blue drink as you watched his form recede.

Soon enough you decided it was time to journey back to your stall, the tornado lost long ago in the war against the blue powered brain freeze the icy beverage tingled and stung the hand that it was clasped in. As you sped through the building, weaving as you went between the crowds you caught sight of Spencer wrangling some rowdy weebs away from each other, the vison of him standing over the rambunctious pair, weapons sheathed away and yet guns on full display, tugged your focus away from looking ahead of yourself and had you colliding, within seconds, with a metal pillar.

Although the collision wasn't a painless endeavor your head and extremities were functional. That is if you don't consider your purple and yellow bruised confidence such a public mishap inflicted. So chin tucked to your chest you resumed walking once more. It was, however, only then, with your eyes cast downwards that you registered, at the sight of darkened wet fabric, the cold sensation across your front.

Pleading with the universe that no-one took much notice you forced yourself to continue on your path. What you were unaware of is that the cruel universe is indifferent to your suffering, and hence that the chosen himself had taken notice of your public stumbling.

So, tending to a weakened ego you tucked yourself behind your table, thanking Laura and avoiding their pitying gaze, you focused on the stock of your stall and refilling what was available. The sticky sensation clung to your skin annoyingly persistently throughout the hours, occasionally pulling your focus from the exchanges and conversations you attempted to make.

There was three hours left of the convention when a familiar shadow loomed over your setup, 'so... I assume you quite enjoyed the blue raspberry complexities' his tone remained as it always was, serious and confident, but a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth gave all the indication you needed as he gestured to your shirt.

Thank fuck you thought at least he didn't see me- 'Although in future you should probably focus more on your surroundings, it is important for any great warrior to be completely aware at all times.'

'Well I-I'm not...' your defence trailed off as he wordlessly tucked his lanyard under his shirt, before tugging the grey cotton over his head- your mind took no time to process the reasoning behind his movements, much too focused on the flexing of his arms and the bare muscles that soon lay bare under the fluorescents, if his pecs were tremendous under his shirt well- Oh fuck, is he speaking?

'take this,' he held out the cloth gingerly, the first hesitant act you had seen from the stoic man in front of you and a genuinely kind offer at that. Despite the chill that ran across the skin the top touched as you took it from him your mouth refused to simply thank him; 'Wait don't you-'

'No, I've attuned my body to achieve peak function in all environments not matter the circumstance.' Not wanting to appear ungrateful, with a smile you hurriedly ducked underneath the table, covered somewhat by the cheap opaque party tablecloth you changed, shrugging the shirt over you head you were surprised by the softness of the fabric.

Returning to your seat you thanked him profusely, an act he waved off without thought. 'What kind of warrior would I be if I didn't?' the question hang in the air, rhetorical both in creation and in the way that you had no clue how to respond to it, until he spoke again; 'So... how is your November going?'

Clearing your through and fighting the heat in your cheeks you finally realized how to convey exactly what you needed to;

'Twenty-three days ...' you paused looking him up and down before stopping at the bulge of his bicep as you finished, 'Strong'.

#spencer agnew x reader #the chosen x reader #the chosen #spencer agnew #the chosen smosh #smosh #the chosen imagine

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busines-as-unusual · 1 year ago

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˖ ࣪ ⭑⟡Chapter 7 - Last Go ‘round ⟡⭑ ࣪ ˖

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Content Warning for this chapter for: blood, gore, violence, HEAVILY implied sexual assault in reader’s past. It gets kinda rough so proceed with caution.

You bit the bullet and immediately regretted it.

Now you sat alone in the Vees’ meeting room, feeling on edge as the electro-sharks circled you like vultures waiting to sink their teeth into prey, studying you for any weaknesses. The room was colder than necessary, and you rubbed the goosebumps peppering your arms. Tall, glass walls trapped you in like you were the animal on display. The Overlords most likely set this room up as a subtle intimidation tactic to help sway deals in their favor.

That, or Vox just really liked sharks.

Either way, you refused to let any demon or shark bully you into lackluster negotiations. You weren’t leaving this room without getting what you came here for.

Whatever strings (and limbs) Alastor pulled got you through the door of Vee Tower like a charm. Barely a day passed before he informed you that he got you an audience with Vox. You’d be more grateful if not for that damn deal Alastor made you make.

You fretted over the humiliated probing questions he no doubt had in store. When you’d asked when he planned on cashing the questions, he made a show of thinking it over before deciding it’d be more fun to spring them on you when you least expected it. Fucking yaaaay.

The door burst open, tearing you away from your anxious thoughts. In walked Vox, the leader of the Vees, swaggering in with all the charisma of a man who reveled in being in charge. When he spotted you, his cocky smile immediately dropped to a frown. “Where the fuck is Alastor?”

Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you laughed. “Of course, that’s what he told you to get me this meeting.”

Digital eyes looked you over as Vox made his way past the table to fix himself a drink at the minibar. “So he sent you because he couldn’t face me, huh? And you’re, what, his little gofer?”

You decided to ignore his dismissive comment. Letting out an airy chuckle, you plastered on a simpering smile. “Look Vox. I know you’re a busy man and I have a lot of respect for what you do for Hell, so I’ll cut to the chase. I’m not in the business of wasting your time.”

Vox sipped his drink, a small but receptive smile on his monitor. Perfect. Flattery was an effective tool, especially— from your personal experience— with men. Especially especially with men who had egos bigger than their heads.

(Which was saying something in Vox’s case…)

“I’m working with the princess of Hell and her hotel. Your partner, Valentino, forbade his employee Angel Dust from participating, and I need him to lay off, so to speak.”

“Val’s dealings are his business. You should be having this conversation with him.”

“No offense to Valentino, but I wanted to talk to the man who’s really in charge.”

He swirled the amber-colored liquid around in his glass, his smirk widening. “Miss Temerity. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Your smile dipped a hair. “You’ve heard of me?”

“Of course! I recognize a lovely woman of a lower but respectable income bracket. Plus, that club of yours is pretty popular, especially with newer souls. You must get a lot of foot traffic through your doors.”

“I say it gets an average amount.” You saw this coming. You don’t make deals with someone like Vox without giving something in return. Not that you weren’t receptive to it. Business was business after all.

Vox set down his drink and glided toward you like one of his sharks. He ran a hand along your chair, stopping right behind you. “No need to be modest, sweetheart. I do love a businesswoman.” His fingers crept from the chair to your shoulders and squeezed. Your breath hitched as his claws dented your flesh through the fabric of your clothes. “Even if she’s friends with that old-timey radio fucker.”

He kept his tone guarded, but it slipped into a dark vocal effect when he mentioned Alastor.

He rubbed circles into your shoulders. You crossed your legs to keep from flinching and tried your best to relax. Getting tricked into having this meeting surely pissed him off. You couldn’t let his anger trickle down to you. You’d have to choose your next words carefully.

“Alastor is a close associate of mine, I’ll admit it. However, his beef with you is not on my menu, so to speak. Besides,” you snaked your fingers through his and looked over your shoulder, “you’re both big boys. Why would little old me get involved? I’m just trying to do my job.”

He chuckled low in your ear. “Good to know.” After a moment he let go, and you took the opportunity to exhale when he turned. “So I get Val to let Angel do this… whatever of yours, then what? What’s in it for me?”

A fair question. You prepared for that. “We both know it’s in everyone’s best interest to play nice and get along. How will it look when an Overlord like Val is bullying his underlings for partaking in harmless extracurriculars? ‘Petty, insecure control freak’ wouldn’t be something I’d want attached to my brand.”

Vox scowled but you kept going, “Hun, I’m just stating what you already know. And let’s be honest, between the three Vees, Val isn’t the one winning the popularity contest, sad to say.”

He mulled over your words in silence for a moment. You wondered if maybe you took it too far, but then he turned to face you with a grin, and you knew you had him.

“You know what? You’ve convinced me. I’ll have Val let Angel do his little whatever at the hotel. But you have to do two things for me.”

Again you saw this coming. You knew you had no real leverage going into this; convincing Vox to play along was always going to be half the battle.

“I’d like to partner with you. Sell Vox brand energy drinks, liquor, snacks, and etcetera at your establishments. Hang up a couple advertisements, hand out some circulars, run our ads on TV. Simple, easy. And of course, we’d pay you a commission. We’ll get you all set up with our affiliate program.”

You nodded. Honestly, it wasn’t a terrible deal. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but every opportunity to open new streams of revenue was advantageous. And if they were paying you for every sale and new customer, then it was a win-win. “And the second thing?”

“I want you as my date to the unveiling of Velvette’s new fashion line.”

That… that was the last thing you expected him to ask. You were silent for a beat too long. “Uh, not that I’m saying no, but why would you want me as your date? Don’t you usually attend those things with Valentino?”

“I think this benefits both of us. You get to be seen on my arm where you’ll get to advertise your business and your little charity work with the hotel, and I get to piss off hoof-footed, triangle-assed jackass!”

Your eyes blinked at separate speeds. “Vox, darling, again I’m not quite following.”

Vox shook his head like he couldn’t believe what you were saying. “Come now, sweetheart. Alastor must hold you in high regard to take the time to swing this meeting for you. I know that asshole would hate to see an ally get in bed with one of his enemies… so to speak.”

Ah, was that his angle? Granted, you could admit Alastor regarded you to be a step up from actual vermin, but he was no altruist. He only pulled this favor for you so he could screw with you at a later date. Even then, you knew Alastor could not give less of a fuck who you got in bed with, literal or otherwise. An impersonal business alliance? He wouldn’t bat an eye.

So you shrugged. “Of course, if it’ll make you happy, dear. I’m all in.”

He shot you a sharp-toothed grin, ruby liquid dripping from the corner of his mouth. “Excellent.”

From there it was all business. Vox offered to pour you a drink and when you declined he fixed you one anyway and slyly scooted it in front of you. To decline it would be rude, but to drink it was an act of professional submission. So you sipped at it, making sure to leave it two-thirds full.

Vox was charismatic and definitely attractive, but he was… enervating. You imagined in a more casual and social setting he would be a delight to conversate with and an excellent lay.

But you had to be on guard around him. You were well aware of his hypnotic prowess and while you knew you had a stronger will than most, you weren’t one hundred percent positive you could resist him. You were glad to finally be out of that shark-infested room.

Thank Charlie in Hell the hotel had a bar. After talks with Vox, you trudged through the doors of the hotel and plopped down at the bar. Angel was already there, drink in hand, along with Niffty who was busy fashioning roaches into jewelry.

“Husk, dear,” you said, “can you do a lady a favor and pour a gin and gin?”

Husk popped open a brand new bottle and poured three fingers into a glass. “Bad news, I take it?”

“Good news, you’ll have it!” You shot back your drink, smiling when it burned going down. “Angel can audition.”

“Seriously?” Angel gaped, barely reacting when Niffty swiftly placed roach bracelets on all his wrists. His face darkened. “The fuck did ya do?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” You waved away his concern as Charlie entered the room with Vaggie and Alastor in tow, chatting away about something you couldn’t hear. “Don’t worry about it. Knock that audition out of the park and it’ll be worth it.”

“Angel, you're still auditioning?” Charlie called excitedly as the three approached the bar. She grabbed his hands and bounced on her feet, smiling bright as a Hellish morning. “That’s wonderful! This is so exciting!”

You sipped your gin and pretended not to feel Alastor’s eyes burning holes into your back. Your new goal in the afterlife? Never be alone with Alastor ever again.

Your theater hosted The Pentagram City players: the best damned collection of actors, dancers, and singers in the entire Pride Ring. You had constant recruiters out and about looking for fresh souls and ripe talent, always holding out hope that maybe you could snag Andrew Lloyd Webber or Lin Manuel Miranda if they made their way down here. The money you’d make with them would have everyone mistake Mammon for Leviathan.

The players put on a short show for Alastor and Charlie to show them what they were made of. To no surprise, they failed to disappoint. They took a bow and Charlie gave a standing ovation. Alastor clapped with more restraint, hands in front of his chest.

You stood off to the side of the stage and let Charlie compliment the actors and tell them about her hotel. She had that pitch practiced and ready to go at a moment's notice. Impressive. Too busy watching your players get the accolades they deserve, you hadn’t noticed when Alastor snuck up behind her until his breath brushed against your neck.

“My, what a riveting performance. I knew I picked the right woman for the job.”

An involuntary shiver ran through you. What were you just saying about not being alone with Alastor?!

You faced him but didn’t look him in the eye. “Thank you, Alastor! But I can’t take all the credit. My people work their butts off. I can be a bit of a slave driver, but at least I pay them well, right guys?!”

They responded positively despite not hearing a word you said. You laughed. Alastor made a sound of mild amusement, his eyes catching on your hip.

“Tem, dear.” His brows furrowed. “What is in your pocket?”

You glanced at your hip. You elected to wear pants this day, as you often dressed in more business attire when you worked at the theater. The pocket of your pants held your new phone. Vox insisted on sending one to you and you were mildly interested in trying out the new toy. You hadn’t planned on keeping it.

You fixed him with a dry look. “Oh Alastor, I’m just happy to see you.”

He laughed flatly, then darkly added, “I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You’d hoped your half-serious flirtation would turn him away. Instead, he narrowed his eyes, pulled you close, and reached into your pocket.

“A-Alastor! Hey!” You squeaked when his hand brushed the space between your hip and pelvis.

He grabbed your phone, holding it with disgust like a used rag. “What is this?”

“Come now. I know you know what— the fuck?!”

Alastor crushed the phone in his hand, spilling the glitchy, broken bits onto the floor like sand.

“There we are!” He chirped. “Much better.”

Was your eye twitching? Your eye was twitching. Alastor petted you between your ears and you fought the urge to bite his hand like a feral animal

“Oh, don’t be so sour.” He booped you on the nose. “I did you quite a favor. I know you’re well aware how that flat-face imbecile likes to spy on all the denizens of Hell.”

He was right. Goddammit, he was right. But still…

“I had it turned off,” you said.

“Irrelevant, my dear. Those frivolous devices are always poised to listen. You’re better off without one.”

You crossed your arms. “So you know what’s best for me now? What are you, my mother?”

“Did your mother also catch you hiding things you didn’t need?”

“I wasn’t hiding—”

“It makes me wonder what else you’re hiding from me.” He closed the distance between you two to loom. “If you’re not careful, I might cash in on those questions, dear.”

Brow furrowing, you sneered. “Threats, Alastor? How gauche of you.”

His smile twisted into a scowl. Before he could rebut, Alicia, the theater assistant manager, walked up, phone in hand.

“Ma’am.” Her eyes anxiously flicked between you and Alastor. “Sorry, but there’s a phone call for you.”

Your shoulders dropped, grateful for the distraction. “Who is it?”

“Some sort of fucked up goblin man?”

You thanked Alicia, then excused yourself from Alastor with an eye roll to take the call in private.

“Hello, Blitzø.”

“Hey, bitch! Get a damn cell phone already, will ya? You are impossible to get a hold of when you’re out. You know how many people I pissed off in the phone book before I got to you?”

You glared at Alastor from across the theater. “I had a–”

“It was twelve. Thirteen if I count that guy who called me back to cuss me out, and I do, so thirteen.”

“What the fuck is it, Blitzø?

“We got the guy~” he sang so proudly. “Come get him sooner rather than later, Moxxie keeps bitching that we have to keep knocking the bastard out and I’m running out of chloroform.”

It was time.

It was finally time.

You trembled, hardly able to hold the phone. “I'll be right there.”

As if on autopilot, you handed the phone back to Alicia and informed Charlie you had a personal matter you needed to attend to.

“Oh no!” Eyes wide with genuine concern. “Is everything alright?”

You smiled reassuringly. “Everything is right as rain, dear. I have someone I need to meet, but Alicia here will take care of you for the rest of the day.”

Charlie still looked worried but wished you the best of luck. You were touched. The girl was so sweet; it had to be the angel in her.

Before you reached the door, Alastor appeared from the shadows and cut you off. “Care to share where you’re heading off to in such a rush?”

“I already told Charlie. There’s a man I need to see.”

“Another bedfellow, perchance?”

Any other time you’d laugh that off. You never took offense to any comment or insult about your sexual promiscuity. They were true anyway.

But in this case, with this man, you couldn’t bring herself to even smile.

“Alastor, sweetie, I’d never play hooky at work just to get laid. Well, maybe for the right man, but the man I’m seeing is lucky I’m giving him the time of day.”

His smile grew in interest. You figured he was considering using one of his questions. You couldn’t have that. Not here.

Not about this.

You stepped around him and pushed past the door. “Au revoir, darlings! I’ll be seeing you all soon.”

The slam from the door sent a burst of chilled air that followed you out of the building.

You picked up Jet on your way to I.M.P. While you were strong for your size, he was much stronger and you needed help with the heavy lifting.

Blitzø presented the man tied up with a bag over his head with a flourish and a “ta-dah!”

You took in the slumped form of the man you loathed, hogtied and unconscious, and you felt a twinge of fear twist at your chest. And that fear quickly morphed into rage.

You clenched your fist but quickly drew back when your nail bit in too deep.

Moxxie seemed halfway concerned about what you planned to do with him, not convinced when you said you two were only going to have a chat.

But it was true. Mostly.

Jet dropped the man off in your basement, making sure to secure him tightly to the chair. You wondered where he learned to tie ropes like that, but figured it was best if you didn’t know. You made sure to pay him extra and had him take the next day off.

You sat at the top of the stairs of the basement in a white silk slip, a third cigarette between your lips. Tired eyes stared down at the man tied to the chair. A dry nothingness spread from your heart and trickled through your veins.

With a final drag, you finished off the cigarette and flicked it into the bucket of water by your feet. Showtime. You carried the bucket down the stairs and your feet carried you to stand in front of the man who’d hurt you. As a demon, he took on the form of some kind of hideous vermin. How fitting.

You dumped the icy water on his head and he sputtered to life, coughing and gagging.

You grinned down at your captive. “Good! You’re awake.”

“What the— where am I?”

“It’s a little late, but welcome to Hell, well my basement in Hell. Semantics, semantics.”

Bucket still in hand, you grabbed the quarterstaff hidden in the shadows of the oddly frigid corner of the room. As a child, a wooden one was your mother’s favorite instrument of discipline, but you preferred the heft of a metal one, especially ones made out of angelic steel.

Back in front of the hideous vermin. “Remember me?”

His lips curled in contempt. “Why would I remember some… purple raccoon broad?”

You laughed… then slammed the bucket over his head with all your strength, relishing his cry of pain. You did it again, then again. “July twenty-six, nineteen thirty-two! Ring any bells?”

At first it didn't, then his eyes widened as church bells went off in his head.

“There he is!” You cried, pointing the quarterstaff his way. “He does remember, but he might want to be more specific before I get impatient!”

”T-t-there was that dark-haired gal,” he stammered. “Me and my buddies… we met her in N’awlins.”

”Don’t be shy.” You tossed the bucket aside, not caring where it landed. “You did more than meet. Refresh my memory, what did you do again, after you spent the better part of an hour needling her away from better company?”

He shook harder than a leaf in a tornado. He looked up at you with wet, pleading eyes. “It was y-you. You were—”

You struck him across the face, bone cracking a satisfying wet crunch. Blood splattered across your skin and dress. You didn’t care.

The temperature in the room dropped. The air buzzed, and your ears rang.

“What did. You do. To her?”

Tears slipped down his cheeks, running through the blood. He was crying. Sobbing. The fucking audacity of him to be the one shedding tears; you almost killed him permanently right then and there. “I… I killed her.”

“Close!” You leaned in to face him. The smell of copper strong. “You didn’t just kill that girl. You brutalized that girl. You beat and humiliated that girl, and had your buddies do the same. Choked her within an inch of her life. Is that right?”

He nodded, eyes cast down. Coward.

“And you knew she wasn’t dead when you put her in the ground. You… knew.” Your voice quivered and you bit your lip. You had to keep it together until he was double dead and six feet under the ground. You’d had plenty of time to cry then.

“Please!” He full-on sobbed like a baby now, snot running down his nose like tears as he begged for his afterlife. “Please, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Oh, I know.” Using the tip of the quarterstaff, you forced him to look at you. “Only a sorry man could do what you did.”

Looking at him for this long made your bones ache with searing grief. You had more to tell him. You wanted to taunt him about his shattered legacy, about a family that would do everything in their power to disown him post-mortem for his crime. You wanted to remind him of every evil little detail you had to suffer through, while he got to live a full life, get married, have children, make memories. You didn’t necessarily want those things in Hell or life, but that wasn’t the point. This man took all possibilities from you.

There was so much you’d wanted to experience on Earth. You wanted to see, dance, dance, drink, eat, fuck, do everything you could manage to do before your heart gave out. You missed out on so much music and history and sights. You could’ve met people and had friends, real genuine friends, not the entourage you hung out with to distract from your loneliness. You could’ve taken a chance that night in New Orleans…

It wouldn’t have been easy. It would have been damn hard. But you were euphoric to live life no matter what because you got to live on your terms. It was your life. Yours!

…and then some bastards blew in and took that from you. Stole that from you in one of the most violent, degrading ways you could treat another human being.

White hot rage possessed you, and you struck him across his face again. You reveled in the sounds of crushed teeth and broken bones. You swung against his rib cage. The crunch of bone reverberated up the quarterstaff and rattled yours. Another swing, his throat gave way. You stuck him again and again and again, over and over and over and over and over anD OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND O

You didn’t stop when the staff bent out of shape or when the blood stung your eyes or when bone showed through torn skin. You didn’t stop when gore flew on your dress and hair. You didn’t stop when he stopped moving.

You laughed until you cried then you laughed again. Now he was the one at your mercy. You were the one who kept going even when he begged and pleaded for you to stop. You were the one who massacred him until all the fight had left his soul and he was a bloody unrecognizable mess.

With a final few swings, you finally stopped, quarterstaff dropping to the ground with a clatter. You fell to your knees, heart stony as you looked at the mess of what was once a man.

The first four times you exacted revenge, it felt like you were opening up an old scar and bleeding old blood, reshedding what’s been shed, and it burned each and every time. Now, for the fifth and final time, it felt like you had a bone rebroken. It was a heavier pain that lasted longer, but you knew it had to be reset in order to properly heal.

Grief, joy, and relief all swirled together in your soul in equal measure. You felt too much, all conflicting, all at once. It made your stomach ache.

Then it happened. Something that made your stomach churn over the edge of sickness.

Applause.

Crisp, solid applause. The kind you get with one pair of hands.

Seconds passed before you scraped together the courage to look behind you. You came eye to eye with the source of the clapping.

Alastor sat with his legs crossed at the top of the stairs, trapping you in the basement. Behind him, the light of your home gave him a false angelic glow, dwarfed by the glowing red of his eyes that pinned you in place like a spotlight.

”Another riveting performance my dear! You never fail to entertain.”

A/N: This chapter was a lot. It’s the most violent and angsty thing I’ve ever written. It’s also my first time writing Vox so I hope I got him right.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

♥︎Taglist♥︎

@forbidding-souda

@mo-0-o

@joumi13

@the--rebel--fae

@babesway22

@maychay

#hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x oc #alastor x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor x you #hazbin x oc #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #reader #reader fic #reader insert #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x reader fic #hazbin hotel oc

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internet-siren · 7 months ago

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Hacktivism: Digital Rebellion for a New Age 🌐💥

In an era where our lives are intertwined with the digital landscape, the concept of hacktivism has become more than just a buzzword. It’s the fusion of hacking and activism—where people use their coding and cyber skills to disrupt power structures, challenge injustice, and amplify voices that often go unheard. It's a rebellion born from the belief that access to information, privacy, and freedom are rights, not privileges. But how did this digital resistance movement come to be, and how can you get involved? Let’s dive into it. 💻⚡️

What Exactly Is Hacktivism? 🤖✨

At its core, hacktivism is activism with a digital twist. It’s about using technology and hacking tools to advance social, political, and environmental causes. The most common methods include:

DDoS Attacks (Distributed Denial of Service): Overloading a target’s website with too much traffic, essentially crashing it, to temporarily shut down an online service.

Website Defacement: Replacing a website’s homepage with a political message, often exposing corruption or unethical practices.

Data Leaks: Exposing hidden documents or sensitive information that reveal corporate or governmental wrongdoing.

Bypassing Censorship: Circumventing firewalls or government restrictions to make sure information reaches the people it needs to.

The idea is simple: when a government or corporation controls the narrative or hides the truth, hacktivists take it into their own hands to expose it. 🌍💡

Why Is Hacktivism Important? 🔥

In a world dominated by corporations and powerful governments, hacktivism represents a form of resistance that’s accessible. It’s about leveling the playing field, giving people—especially those who lack resources—an avenue to protest, to expose corruption, and to disrupt systems that perpetuate inequality. The digital world is where much of our lives now happen, and hacktivism uses the very systems that oppress us to fight back.

Think about WikiLeaks leaking documents that exposed global surveillance and the activities of intelligence agencies. Or how Anonymous has played a pivotal role in advocating for free speech, standing up against internet censorship, and exposing corrupt governments and corporations. These are the digital warriors fighting for a cause, using nothing but code and their knowledge of the web.

Hacktivism is a direct response to modern issues like surveillance, censorship, and misinformation. It's a way to shift power back to the people, to give voice to the voiceless, and to challenge oppressive systems that don’t always play by the rules.

The Ethical Dilemma 🤔💭

Let’s be real: hacktivism doesn’t come without its ethical dilemmas. While the intentions are often noble, the methods used—hacking into private systems, defacing websites, leaking sensitive info—can sometimes lead to unintended consequences. The line between activism and cybercrime is thin, and depending on where you live, you might face serious legal repercussions for participating in hacktivist activities.

It’s important to consider the ethics behind the actions. Are you defending the free flow of information? Or are you inadvertently causing harm to innocent bystanders? Are the people you’re exposing truly deserving of scrutiny, or are you just participating in chaos for the sake of it?

So if you’re thinking of getting involved, it’s crucial to ask yourself: What am I fighting for? And is the harm done justified by the greater good?

How to Get Started 💻💡

So, you’re interested in getting involved? Here’s a starting point to help you use your tech skills for good:

Learn the Basics of Hacking 🔐: Before diving into the world of hacktivism, you'll need to understand the tools of the trade. Start with the basics: programming languages like Python, HTML, and JavaScript are good foundational skills. Learn how networks work and how to exploit vulnerabilities in websites and servers. There are plenty of free online resources like Codecademy, Hack This Site, and OverTheWire to help you get started.

Understand the Ethical Implications ⚖️: Hacktivism is, above all, about fighting for justice and transparency. But it’s crucial to think through your actions. What’s the bigger picture? What are you trying to achieve? Keep up with the latest issues surrounding privacy, data rights, and digital freedom. Some online groups like The Electronic Frontier Foundation (EFF) provide great resources on the ethics of hacking and digital activism.

Join Communities 🕸️: Being part of a like-minded group can give you support and insight. Online communities, like those on Reddit, Discord, or specific forums like 4chan (if you're cautious of the chaos), can help you learn more about hacktivism. Anonymous has also had an iconic role in digital activism and can be a place where people learn to organize for change.

Stay Informed 🌐: To be effective as a hacktivist, you need to be in the know. Follow independent news sources, activist blogs, and websites that report on global surveillance, corporate corruption, and governmental abuse of power. Hacktivism often reacts to injustices that would otherwise go unnoticed—being informed helps you take action when necessary.

Respect the Digital Space 🌱: While hacktivism can be used to disrupt, it’s important to respect the privacy and safety of ordinary people. Try to avoid unnecessary damage to private citizens, and focus on the systems that need disrupting. The internet is a tool that should be used to liberate, not to destroy without purpose.

Never Forget the Human Side ❤️: As with all activism, the heart of hacktivism is about making a difference in real people’s lives. Whether it's freeing information that has been hidden, protecting human rights, or challenging unjust power structures—always remember that at the end of the code, there are humans behind the cause.

Final Thoughts 💬

Hacktivism is a powerful, transformative form of resistance. It’s not always about flashy headlines or viral attacks—often, it’s the quiet work of exposing truths and giving people a voice in a world that tries to keep them silent. It’s messy, it’s complex, and it’s not for everyone. But if you’re interested in hacking for a purpose greater than yourself, learning the craft with the intention to fight for a better, more just world is something that can actually make a difference.

Remember: With great code comes great responsibility. ✊🌐💻

#Hacktivism #DigitalRevolution #TechForGood #Activism #CodeForJustice #ChangeTheSystem #Anarchism #Revolution

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suburbanbonfire · 1 year ago

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do you have any advice on capturing a person's likeness?

HOO BOY well first off, the unfortunate main answer is just,,,,,,lots of practice. The more you draw from references, do studies, the better you eye-to-hand connection will be. So. Yeah. Sorry.

OTHER THAN THAT one thing i like to do is do a really simple rough sketch first, not worrying at all about correctness, but just getting down the way shapes interact with each other, like if you squinted your eyes at the reference image to make it all blurry, what would the shapes be.

here, i like to exaggerate proportion, make the hair one big block, and work almost entirely with long, curved strokes. it also really helps me in particular by not having a totally blank canvas when im starting actually trying to get the likeness right.

if i were to try to actually make his nose right with just a circle for the head down on the paper, i would erase it so so many times.

then, with my clean sketch, I focus a lot on like, relativity? Where does the top of his eye line up with the bridge of his nose? if i draw a straight line up from the corner of his mouth, where would that intersect with his eye?

i like doing that to make sure that everything is placed in roughly the correct spot, and as a way to zoom in on details without getting lost in them

RANDOM OTHER THINGS

I think noses are my favorite to draw, especially for capturing likenesses. They have a lot of personality, and a lot more variety than you see in other places of the face

i know hockey doesn't have like, the widest range of hairstyle ever, but man if you're starting out, please use no-bucket photos as reference. anime was right that hair is such a useful defining feature

if youre drawing digitally, the liquify tool is GOD. if something looks funky it is so nice to be able to just kinda push it into the right spot without having to redraw anything

LOWER YOUR STANDARDS!!!! 95% of the time you're gonna finish a study and be like 'well this is not right' and then when you post it and caption it with who it is, people will see what you're getting at anyways! close enough IS, in fact, good enough

hope something in this helps at least a bit! thank you for the ask!

#one of my favorite comments ive received on anything though #was on the winter classic poster saying 'that looks NOTHING like his hairline'#and it made me laugh so hard #so on the other hand people will be haters no matter what #ALSO the poster im currently working on #has SOOO many fucking players and im going insane trying to make them all look right #lars and joey are beautiful #everyone else is fucked.#ok time 2 color this garth and play dnd #asked n answered

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sincerely-sofie · 1 year ago

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It took me a minute to finally get my notes straight so I could answer this— I hope it was worth the wait! I’ll give some bullet points of tips I use to help boost my production speed in addition to the strategies I use to try to keep characters consistent. Let’s get into it!

First up: How I draw faster!

Note that these mostly apply to digital art, as that’s my preferred medium.

If your art program has them, experiment with brush stabilization levels. My hands shake really bad, especially while I’m drawing, so I put a lot of effort into finding a stabilizer level that works with my need to control lines while also smoothing out the tremors in my hands. It’s made it so much easier to draw lines like I want to, and therefore lets me move on instead of redrawing the same line over and over again.

Creating templates for your art helps so much— setting up things like canvas size, color profile, DPI, background colors and images like the paper texture PNGs that I love to use ahead of time helps me get drawing faster, while I’m excited and inspired! Similarly, having a naming system for your art files is useful for speed as well as finding and organizing old pieces easier.

Having premade color palettes of local colors for characters is also super helpful for speed, as well as keeping characters on model :>

Personally, I use a single brush for lineart and rely on the selection tool and bucket fill for coloring when I actually bother to color things in. My lines are pretty loose nowadays, and the same goes for when I color things— I don't abide exactly by the lineart I draw, and get pretty messy with the selection tool and bucket fill!

I simplify character designs as much as possible— the standard design of a sigilyph, for example, is pretty complex. But I made Sen a lot simpler (and also forgot the spikes on her torso in this panel. Oops)

As for keeping characters on-model…

I’m very flattered that you feel otherwise, but I actually don't keep characters very on-model between different drawings— just look at the different ways I've drawn Ark below— however, I'm improving over time as I become more familiar with how I want to draw the characters! A big part of my process of keeping characters on model is drawing characters over and over to familiarize myself with how they should look through trial and error.

Learning common angles and poses I will draw characters in is very helpful for making sure they look consistent. As a bit of a downside, though, it makes wonkier angles stick out like a sore thumb! Drawing Ark with his head slightly angled downward was really hard, and I don't think I communicated it that well here:

I try to have the characters broken down into as many simple shapes that fit into each other as I possibly can, like Twig’s head (circle + rectangle snout + angled rectangle horn) Ark's hair (that weird bangs shape) and Dusknoir's upper body (beanbag shape / slightly elongated circle torso, arms coming out of his frill that comes in a very particular arcing line). This makes it way easier to draw characters quickly and consistently, because I can learn those lines and shapes and get the motion of drawing them into muscle memory.

Also, knowing the ways characters emote is like knowing cheat codes. Giving characters things like a signature comedic expression of shock or grin that they make when they're happy are very helpful!

The biggest tip I can give on the topic of keeping characters on-model (at least without model sheets— model sheets are THE way to go. Don’t be like Sofie and neglect those pieces of gold) is really just to practice. Build up familiarity with the shapes and proportions of characters, get a feel for how your hand and wrist moves to get the lines right.

#creativity tips with sofie #art tips #drawing tips #drawing advice #art advice #stuff by sofie #sofie answers asks #(kinda)

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scamornoreviews · 16 hours ago

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Is ANX-305 Legit? - ANX-305 Account Review

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