#Creative Suite

[rajco1]

"Adobe Photoshop CS3 L14" is a powerful and versatile software package designed for professional image editing and manipulation. Renowned for its extensive range of tools and features, it offers users the ability to enhance photographs, create digital artwork, and manipulate images with precision and creativity.

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Overall, Adobe Photoshop CS3 L14 is a comprehensive solution for professional image editing and video manipulation. Its robust feature set, combined with its ease of use, makes it an indispensable tool for photographers, designers, and multimedia creators alike. Whether you're retouching photos, creating digital artwork, or editing video content, Adobe Photoshop CS3 L14 provides the

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Is that a reference to the Half Life 2 beta????

[lucybellwood]

I’m reminded of Bernard Suits’ definition of playing a game, which is also my favorite definition of art-making: “the voluntary attempt to overcome unnecessary obstacles.”

— Austin Kleon, Getting in and out of trouble

[theswedishpajas]

FINALLY breaking myself free from the chains that are rendered Fords… STANLEY, MY LOVE, I AM HERE TO AT LAST APPRECIATE YOUR FACE HOW IT DESERVES!!!!!

[worm-on-my-way]

quit looking at him!!

[jellynotbees]

Alright Narinder says no more bunny

(Click for better quality if necessary I never know if its gonna be blurry or not)

[lilidawnonthemoon]

[whereserpentswalk]

A mech pilot needs to get outside help to be extracted from their mech. If they aren't, they'll be trapped forever. Since a body has to be in stasis to pilot a mech they're basically immortal in there. Theoretically a mech pilot trapped in their mech could be there for thousands of years. And because of security measures it's useally only a few people who would have the keys to unlock it.

For those whose mechs are too damaged to move its a sorry fate. They're trapped without any way to scream for help, feeling the pain of their mechanical body's death over and over again. Some will just rot there. Some might figure out how to turn their weapons on themselves and free themselves from such a fate.

But for those who can still move, they're basically stuck living the rest of their life as their mech. Mechs can recharge with organic material, the grass they burn under their feet as they walk, and the corpses of the fallen, all can replace more advanced fuel. They can basically wander whatever planet they're on forever, exploring it until someone eventually finds them, if someone ever does.

Sometime a mech like this will end up on an inhabited world. Useally not one at a space faring level of advancement, but it's common for them to end up on worlds with pre industrial societies of humans or aliens on them. In that case they do have civilizations to interact with, though with their bodies stuck as massive machines of war, and most ways of communication gone from them, they'll always be outside of their society somewhat.

For the primitive worlds with these lost mechs on them such creatures are like giants of myth. Massive men of metal and glass capable of decimating armies and cities with their power. Some wander in distant lands, living far away from civilization, only occasionally interacting with locals when they please, but generally acting like massive cryptids. Others have become sadistic terrors, attacking cities and towns as part of a long forgotten war, with local armies having no way to effectively fight them, and then retreating back into the wilds before striking again.

Still, some are not so unfriendly to the local populations. Some serve as guardians, like massive golems, protecting settlements and watching over their many generations, keeping outsiders at bay. Guardians of that sort even contribute in peaceful ways, helping locals build things with their massive strength, or helping quell natrual disasters. Perhaps they have finally found a way of life beyond war.

[loverofsoups]

I like to think that the reason Harvey hated Mike’s ties had less to do with how they looked and more to do with how he wanted Mike to wear ones that made it easier for him to grab and pull him in for a kiss

[strawberrylemonwedge]

headcanon that rather than disobeying the lan clan’s strict sleep schedule like staying up late or waking up late like you might expect of him, Lan Jingyi does rest at hai time and rise at mao time like any Lan but in the most chaotic and inelegant way. Hai time rolls around and he is instantly out, like just nods off in the middle of a conversation while still standing mouth hanging open

the number of times Sizhui has had to move him to his bed in their dorm after Jingyi falls asleep sprawled on the floor, or frantically yank him out of a bath before he drowns, Ouyang Zizhen will catch his head before it falls into his plate of food, Jin Ling ends up having to carry him on his back to the nearest inn when they’re out of town

and yeah he wakes up at mao time but he wakes up like an explosion and is instantly bursting with energy. Before Sizhui can even fully open his eyes, Jingyi is halfway through a monologue at full volume, he’s bouncing off the walls, 75% of his day’s productivity is happening right after he wakes up

bonus points if this very noticeably does Not happen during a serious battle or night hunt and people start to think he’s doing it on purpose but Sizhui will tell you no he’s just Like That

[seventh-district]

Figured I'd try my hand at some Redacted character post/text edits!

[ 1 / ? ]

Credit to @/sainthowlzon for all the Listener icons, and to @/elisacaleisa for their google drive with all the canon icons!

(slightly alternative version of the Solaires' GC edit below the cut bc i had a lil too much fun with what Vincent would name his contacts)

[toyastales]

Jordevity's journey began five years ago when he made a bold decision – to trade the runway for the lens. After collaborating with several photographers, he realized that no one could truly capture the visions that danced in his mind. Driven by a passion to bring those visions to life, and to inspire others in the process, he decided to take the reins and create something truly unique.  His work is a testament to his desire to heal, enlighten, and celebrate the breathtaking beauty of diversity and kindness.

https://toyastales.blogspot.com/2025/02/apple-tree-by-jordevity.html

[hhhhleb]

*w-where do you-uu even com-me from-m? part of this comics

[raineandsky]

#133

Fourteen years ago, the hero—barely twelve years old and several years from considering being a hero—knocked on their neighbour’s door with their basket in hand and the smile of a kid about to eat their weight in sweets on their face.

The door was barely open before the hero was shouting, “Trick or treat!”

“Oh!” their neighbour exclaimed as she opened the door. “What’re you dressed as, hon?”

The hero pouted dramatically. This was the question they’d been answering all night—how could no one see it? “I’m [Superhero].”

Their neighbour laughed and produced a bowl of sweets, the wrappers glittering like gold under the porch light. “Of course you are! Well, take your pick, [Superhero].”

The temptation to dig their entire hand into that delicious ocean of chocolate was almost irresistible. The hero swiped the top sweet to push that temptation down, not even looking at what it was before dropping it into their own basket. “Thanks!”

Their neighbour said her goodbyes as the hero hopped back down onto the path, letting themself out the gate and heading for the next house.

A flicker of white moved in the bushes next to the hero. Their gaze snapped to the side, scanning through the leaves for the culprit. Then, like a mist of horror and death, a ghost drifted straight through the bushes towards them.

The hero yelped, shaking several sweets from their basket as they leapt back. It hovered just in front of them, the sheet over its head floating slightly, eye-holes cut in to show the hero their distant gaze.

A real, actual ghost. Fear gripped their throat and glued their feet to the ground. No, think—what would the superhero do?

They cleared their throat, putting on the bravest face they could, and said, “Nice costume.”

The ghost didn’t respond. It simply stared at them with dead, far-off eyes. An actor, the hero decided. It’s not real. Just someone that’s really embodying the spirit of Halloween.

They tried a smile that probably looked more pained than they’d hoped. “Super realistic,” they continued into the quiet. “Did you make it yourself?”

The hero reached out to run a hand over the bottom of the ghost’s sheet, only to find their fingers phased straight through it. They paused for a moment, staring wide-eyed at their hand passing right through this supposedly solid object, before hurriedly pulling it back.

“Whoa,” the hero whispered. “Are… are you, like… dead?”

The ghost said nothing. It only continued to stare at them. The sheet floated around them like the hero hadn’t ever disturbed it.

“Um. Okay.” The hero shuffled nervously, glancing at their destination down the street. “Very cool. See you ‘round, anyway.”

They casually wandered to the next house along. They glanced over their shoulder at the gate and, seeing that the ghost was gone, swiftly abandoned their sweet hunt and ran all the way home.

-

“On Clarence Street?” the hero asks indignantly. “Fourteen years ago? That was you?”

The villain laughs brightly from where the hero has hastily tied them to a desk chair. “And you were the one dressed like [Superhero]? The only kid I couldn’t scare the chocolate out of? Oh, this rivalry was destined.”

The hero can feel their face scrunching up in annoyance. The whole process of seeing a ghost, researching the paranormal, feeling bad that someone was lingering after death, wanting to shape a world people could leave peacefully, taking on heroism in their career. All their life decisions had sprouted from that one moment when they were twelve, and it was the villain’s goddamn fault.

The hero takes a step back to resist the urge to punch them. “How’d you do it?”

“Projector.” The villain looks particularly proud, like they’re explaining how their most recent invention works. “It was one of the first real evil things I planned myself. I think it was the start of my career, that night.”

The hero scowls. “Makes two of us.”

“Be honest,” the villain starts with a grin, “did I getcha?”

The scowl only deepens. The hero doesn’t like the truth, but they’re not a liar. “A bit.”

Another laugh, entirely too proud of the stunt they pulled off over a decade ago. “Happy Halloween, [Superhero].”