#but personally this is what works for me and i've stuck to it

[basil-the-bulbasaur]

Ok so, I might have had plot injected directly into my brain and now I have about 1000 words of mostly unedited (grammar should be fine, but pacing? I do not know her) solidaritek

They're toys. Tango's arm breaks (this is a bit of an understatement) and I tried to make the workshop seem creepy. Body horror if you're a toy. I don't think it's very graphic, but this is your warning if you don't want to read that

The Cowboy and the Snowglobe [working title]

I first saw him from across the shop. The wintery toys had just been moved out: nutcrackers, trains, colourful baubles, dolls, stuffed toys, and–amidst all the other snowglobes–him. 

While most of the snowglobes had people in brighter colors, he wore dark reds and blacks, his yellow hair was as bright as a candle. Some might have said he looked out of place next to them, I just thought he looked beautiful.

As soon as the shop closed for the night I darted off my shelf to greet the newcomers. I wrapped my lasso around the string of banners connecting our shelves, got a running start, and jumped. I let go at the lowest point–muscle memory at this point, especially with the banners in my face–and stuck a perfect (as always) three point landing.

Alright Jimmy, just act cool. I thought to myself as I greeted everyone on my way over to the handsome stranger. And then I slipped on a marble. 

“AAAHHHH!” Gosh, I haven't even talked to this guy and I'm already making a fool out of myself. Great–

“Indiana Jones rope swinging skills and you can do the splits? Who knew a toy could be so multi-talented.” 

He was smirking when I looked up. One arm rested against the snowman standing next to him. His tail swayed behind him. If he could’ve moved his legs he probably would have crossed them.

“There uh, there aren't usually marbles there.” I stood up, trying to laugh off my literal slip up.

“What's your name, Indie?”

I forced myself to smile as I met his–brilliantly red–eyes, “Jimmy Solidarity, I’m the sheriff ‘round these parts,” I said, tilting my hat to show off the badge. Technically, I wasn't the only sheriff, but seeing as the others rarely left our shelf, I didn't think it worth mentioning, “And you? What's your name?”

He stared into the distance for a moment before answering, “Tango um, Tango of the Tek variety, and this is Freezy.”

“Right, nice meeting you, Tango. I guess I'll catch you later.”

“Wait!” I turned back around to face him, “Sorry, I just- you're probably busy sheriffing-”

“Not really, no.”

“It's just, you're the first person I've ever talked to. So-”

“Not gonna lie, I came down here to talk to you.”

“Really?”

Why did I say that out loud? “Yeah, yeah.”

“Well, snookums, you should have just said so.” 

I was incredibly glad my blush was painted. If I had blood I probably would have turned as red as Tango's eyes.

“Right then, what does snow feel like?”

—----------

I started visiting Tango every night after the shop closed. He had a much better view of the floor than I did, even if we both witnessed the same events I liked listening to him talk. 

He also had an amazing imagination. Tango told me all about the mazes and games he would make if he wasn't in a snowglobe. I would've loved to help, but I've never been very technically minded. 

Until one day–I was watching and I'm still not entirely sure what happened. One moment a child was inspecting the snowglobes, then there was a shattering of glass and Tango was lying on the ground in a puddle, his arm shattered.

The toymaker swept up the glass and took Tango into some room where I couldn't see him.

—----------

The moment the lock clicked shut I jumped to the floor and darted under the door into the room where Tango had been taken. 

This room was different. Instead of fully formed toys, the shelves were lined with blocks of wood and clay. Sharp knives, chisels, and files hung on the wall. Even a few saws loomed overhead. 

In the middle of the workshop stood a large desk and chair. Lights from outside illuminated its surface.

“Tango, are you in here?” My voice echoed in the quiet room.

“Jimmy?”

I used my lasso for extra grip as I scrambled up the desk, coming face-to-face with an image that will haunt me for the rest of my days.

Its surface was covered in half formed bodies. A lump of clay crudely mimicking the form of a giraffe; arms reaching out from blocks of wood, and, sitting in the middle of it all-

“Tango.”

I breathed out a sigh of relief as I ran to meet him, wooden and ceramic fingers sliding together like they were designed for each other.

“Are you alright? Does your arm hurt? Can you stand up?”

“Jim! Jimmy, I’m fine. I can’t feel much of anything with this,” He waved what remained of his left arm in front of me. The sharp edges had been filed down to a smooth stump. “It’s just numb. And I think I can stand. It’s weird being able to move my legs after so long standing in one spot.”

“Do you know what’s going to happen to you?”

Tango looked away. “It sounded like the toymaker was going to make me a new arm and put me in another snowglobe.”

“But, this is the first time I’ve gotten to hold you! I can’t–Tango. Tango, look at me.” I reached out to cradle his face in my other hand, watching for any discomfort, “I love you, and I don’t know what I would do if I never got to hold you again, if you got sold and I never got to hear your voice again. And I don’t know what to do or how to get out of here or what, but please, Tango, please don’t leave me.”

Tango unlaced his fingers from mine and pulled me into a hug, "Alright, we’ll find a way out of here, I promise, but,” he pulled back to look at me, “Sitting here crying isn’t going to get us any closer to freedom, c’mon!”

I gripped Tango’s arm as we stood up, his legs slightly unsteady.

“I love you too, by the way.” Tango murmured as he pulled me into a quick hug. “Come on, cowboy, I bet there’s something in here we could break a window with!”

-------------

I don't know why I wrote this in first person. It was not easy, but I do like to imagine Tango and Jimmy years later living in a tree hollow or something. Jimmy decides to write a memoir. Tango reads over the intro and calls Jimmy out because "You could not see me well enough from that far away to determine my beauty."

Day 266: very 🤏

[erinwantstowrite]

listen if you were stuck in a time loop which batfam member would you go to first to believe you

bc i think jason would be like “fuck…alright” and believe right away but i feel the others may need a bit of convincing

i'd ask tim the first time what the protocol was if that ever happened and then when it came time to do it the next loop i'd say "i'm not doing your stupid little protocol shit this time, but i'm stuck in a time loop and if you don't help me i will just start killing people" and he would probably believe i've already dealt with it a million times, and dealt with them a million times, if i'm that exasperated. in reality i've done it three times and forgot immediately what the protocol was and didn't feel like asking again even if he didn't remember

my order of people to ask:

Tim because he's, honestly, my best bet at actually figuring out what's happening and I feel like we'd get alone well enough that he'd know when i was being serious about needing help

Jason because he's seen a bunch of crazy shit so his first reaction would definitely be "yeah okay." (you're so right anon) if there's any enemies in this time loop i can feel better knowing he'd make SURE they stay down. i wouldn't fuck with a time loop and idk if i'd have the same moral code as the other Bats

Steph. I need someone to keep me sane and while I love Tim and Jason... we all know. I feel like she and I would get along really well if she was real and I'd feel comfortable with her there. Also she's kickass and an out of the box thinker which we would totally need

Dick because if it's so serious that I need to bring in a fourth person, i might have to consider maybe thinking about going to Bruce eventually at some point possibly. i'd much rather go to Dick first before Batman. and again, if a fourth person is brought in? probably to do with the first three starting to argue

however, this list is based on one loop. if that somehow didn't work, i'd have to go to trying out different team combinations. and i fear at some point i'd start losing track of what we did and didn't try (i have a terrible memory problem) and they would get a wee bit frustrated. i'd probably give in and try to work with Bruce (i love Bruce, but i KNOW we would not get along very well in a lot of cases). it would probably piss me off if the one time i asked Bruce for help, that's the time the loop got broken

[genderqueerdykes]

Have you ever spoken to fully or otherwise visibly black people in person, not online, about how they feel about 100% white passing people presenting themselves as “mixed black” or (more importantly) JUST “black”? because I think you should care even if you disagree with their opinions and ultimately disregard them. I say that with a clear assumption because even if you find people online who agree with you it is absolutely not the norm offline. Like, half is one thing, but being 1/4 and fully white passing is something it is dishonest to not clarify when discussing your race. When people see “black trans lesbian” they are expecting to help a visibly black or even just visibly nonwhite person, not someone who could live a 100% white life if it didn’t bring up a grandparent. When it comes to poverty and race, your appearance is everything, hence why you even bring it up when explaining your plight to people. Regardless of how you personally identify I think you need to be extremely open about HOW black you are when using it to encourage donations. I’m not here to tell you how to identify (I am not the previous anon but we came from the same place, to be clear) bc I think it’s within your right to identify with a part of yourself but you don’t seem particularly concerned with how race actually works irl beyond a cultural identity

oh so now we're doing the blood quantum thing now like it's a good thing? you get to pick and choose when blood quantum is good and bad, now? that's really what you're doing?

you do realize black people exist in real life and are very easy to encounter and talk to, right? why are you acting like black people are so rare you have to go out of your way to find one, are you okay?

i have black friends & family, and i encounter lots of black people every time i leave my house. i live in a very racially diverse area, it's nice. every single black person i've talked to about this off the internet has been understanding and accepting. one of my good friends is an older white woman who has had numerous black partners and has mixed black sons. when i told her i was mixed, after she got a better look at me and felt my hair, she told me there was no way i was 100% white and that i reminded her of her sons. i've never been questioned or told to shut up. i've never been told that i'm not black by a black person. it's always non-blacks who do this.

why are you speaking for black people as though we're a monolith? you do realize other mixed black people exist, right? you do realize individual black people are going to have individual thoughts, feelings opinions, right? i'm not sure why you have such a shitty view on black people, but i promise we are not that hostile and aggressive.

"visibly black", yeesh. why does it terrify racists so bad to realize that mixed people have mixed traits from both/all of their races. the only thing you're bugged about here is my skin tone. that's it. nothing else. just my skin tone. none of my other facial features or my hair. you're just stuck on my skin tone and that's it. do any of you realize why the term white passing was coined or do you care more about telling mixed people what to do?

you're correct in that you're making massive assumptions, that is quite literally the only thing you got right in this ask. you, much like the previous anon, are proudly wearing your racism on your sleeve. i'm not going to pretend my dad and grandma and the rest of her family don't exist. just don't exist because you're offended that mixed people can be light skinned and that's literally it.

i'm not sure how to tell you that you really don't earn any extra money on this website for being black. i haven't received any extra money because sometimes i label my posts like that. i'm not meticulously picking what words i use. i'm not sure how to break it to people that you don't just magically earn more money for being black on tumblr, but you don't. you can dig your head out of your ass, now. you think you're being progressive but all you're doing is being racist. you HAVE to care about mixed people and yes that includes light skinned, white passing mixed people. cope.

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Day 24: Failed escape / Hunted down / Too exhausted to keep running Characters: Otto Mentallis, Caligosto Loboto (Sasha and Milla are there briefly too) Warnings: None Summary: Otto finds something wandering around in his Otto B.O.N. system.

Otto looked up at the sound of insistent beeping, and hummed. He'd been drafting up his plans for a mini astralathe, but the interruption piqued his interest. He recognized the beeping as the warning signal that something was stuck in the Otto B.O.N. system.

Or, not stuck necessarily, but moving very slow, in this case. He'd set up the system so the alarm only sounded if something was either unmoving or had been moving slowly for quite some time—it meant he wouldn't get alerted every time a rat traversed through the tunnels, as they were wont to do. A psychic would be able to travel through rapidly, and an animal that knew where they were going wouldn't take too long in there, so something moving slowly was either a lost non-psychic animal, or, less likely, a person.

With a simple thought, he brought a hovering monitor over, which immediately lit up with a display of the entire Otto B.O.N. system. A dot was blinking in the tunnels between the mail room and dorms—a strange place for a blockage. It wasn't used much anyway, but fortunately the system had automatically shut off the passage, so some poor soul wouldn't be sent careening into a rabid raccoon.

"Well, a little distraction never hurt anyone," he mused, turning to a console and typing in a quick command. One of his drones zipped by, darting into the nearest Otto B.O.N. "Let's see what's going on here."

The screen displaying the map swapped to a video feed from the drone. It easily zipped along the tunnels in the direction of the blockage, and Otto sat back and watched, waiting for the feed to display a lost rabbit or squirrel.

The drone turned a corner, and a pair of bright lights greeted him.

Otto about jumped out of his skin, and the thing, whatever it was, startled just as badly. With a terrible shriek, the lights jumped upward, followed by a BANG of the creature hitting the ceiling of the tunnel. The lights flickered and turned downward, and for a brief moment, the drone's night vision was able to get a good look at what they were dealing with.

It was a human. One in a very large shower cap and a very worn out apron. Strange, he looked remarkably similar to the person that Sasha had been holding in his...

Otto blanched.

Oh dear.

"Oooh..." came the man's groan through the video feed. His head suddenly shot up, coming just short of bashing against the ceiling again. "NO! Yyyyou're nnnot gonna catch mmme again!" he cried in slurred tones. With that, he attempted to turn around, nearly getting his overly-long legs stuck in the process. But he managed it, scrambling away from the camera on all fours.

Pressing a hand to his temple, Otto reached out. Sasha, we have a problem.

Otto? What's the matter?

I believe you've lost something.

Yes. Loboto, I'm aware. ...Didn't I tell you this?

Otto winced. I might've been busy. The point is, I've found him.

Immediately Sasha became more alert. Good work. Where is he?

Currently... in the Otto B.O.N. system. He's been down there for probably a day or so, if his slur is anything to work off of.

How did he—nevermind. There was a quiet tisk from the other side of the connection. Do you have a way of retrieving him?

Possibly. Keying in a few more commands, he locked every single Otto B.O.N. entrance but the one in the mail room and the one in his own lab. I'll need backup. I need you and Milla to meet me at the entrance to the mail room, but try to keep a crowd from forming.

We'll do what we can.

Nodding, Otto turned back to the camera feed. The man was already well on his way in the direction of the mail room, but there were several more branches leading from there. With a few more taps on the keyboard, multiple drones entered the Otto B.O.N., heading for the mail room through multiple different routes. There was a chance this wouldn't work—cornered animals had attacked the drones before—but he'd rather do this before he went to the more extreme measure of pushing the poor man through via a cleaning machine. Once the drones were in, he locked the Otto B.O.N. entrance in his lab, and bolted out.

Focusing his psychic powers through his pendant, he managed enough buoyancy to levitate over the flooded quarry and to the Motherlobe entrance. His hurried manner garnered several stares from nearby workers as he bolted into the building, ignoring the receptionist and heading straight for the lev-lift and, from there, the mail room.

"In a hurry, Agent Mentallis?" a curious worker asked as he passed.

"Yes," he answered, and, thinking quickly, added, "I'm receiving an important delivery and needed to see to it right away."

That quenched the curiosity of those observing him, even as Sasha and Milla approached. Otto waved them into the mail room but had them stop just within the door. "Wait here. If he sees too many people, he may panic."

"I understand," Milla said with a nod. "The poor thing."

He headed further down into the mail room, where Lori raised an eyebrow at him from the window in her office. He waved her off. "Not to worry! I'm just flushing something out of the Otto B.O.N. system."

Lori made a noise of disgust. "I didn't even know we had one of those in here! And you're chasing a wild animal into here?!"

"Of course not! It's just—"

A muffled howling noise erupted from somewhere beneath them. Otto and Lori exchanged glances before the woman rolled her eyes and stepped out of her office. "Well, whatever it is, you are cleaning up after it. I'm going on break." With that, she headed back up toward the atrium.

Frowning, Otto approached a pile of unsorted packages and TK'd them aside to reveal the rarely-used Otto B.O.N. hatch. Before he could do anything else, the hatch slammed open, and he jumped back as someone scrambled out of the tunnel. He quickly TK'd the hatch shut again as the person shakily rose to his feet, breathing heavily.

"Wh... where?" Loboto slurred, his optics turning slowly as he took in his surroundings. His eyes adjusted a few times before clicking as they focused on the Psychonauts logo on a nearby package.. "AH! Nnno, not here!"

"I'm afraid so," Otto said, and with a swipe of his TK hand, he snagged Loboto off the ground.

"NO! NOOOO!" Loboto wailed, flailing in Otto's grasp. "LET ME GOOO!"

Sighing, Otto placed his hand on his temple. He's a bit rowdy, but I caught him. Have some food and water taken to your lab and I'll meet you there.

Excellent work, Otto.

Loboto, meanwhile, continued to scream.

"Settle down, now," Otto said, carrying him up toward the atrium. "You've been crawling around there far too long, and you need some food and water."

"LET ME—oh, th-that would be nice, actually." Finally the man went limp. Now that he was still, Otto took note of the dark circles under his optics. Or perhaps that was his natural state?

He nearly informed the man that they would continue to analyze him a while longer, but, not wanting to hear that awful screaming again, he decided that could wait. With that, he gently carried the subject back to Sasha's lab.

[skyfallscotland]

Ok back to more serious theories: Professor Grady is venin. Here's why (Onyx Storm spoilers below the cut):

I've mentioned this one before, but while reading Iron Flame, I was 99% certain Professor Grady was venin.

Here's the thing,

He's buddy-buddy with Varrish, which is 1. a real indicator of his character and 2. we all think Varrish was venin too, so...

He was involved with the serum and its implementation, no? Which could be used to try and control venin, but also...it incapacitates riders in a way never seen before and I think that's part of a larger venin-conspiracy

He's said to have spent the most time behind enemy lines and personally I don't think he was captured by fliers. I'm sure that's what some parts of Navarre's leadership think, but really let's be so for real: he was off being venin-ified. Whether he was captured by the venin or the Poromish are just working with them is dealer's choice (more on that later!)

Most importantly (and what made me suspicious of him in the first place) is this:

"This year, you’ll learn what to do if you fall off. Welcome to Rider Survival Course, or RSC for short.” “What the hell is that?” Ridoc mutters. “I don’t know,” I whisper, writing the letters RSC in the blank book in front of me. “But you know everything.” His eyes widen. “Clearly not.” Seems to be the theme lately. “Don’t know what it is?” Professor Grady asks with a grin, staring straight at Ridoc. “Good—our tactics work.”

Which was followed much later by this:

Though there is some debate, it is greatly believed that turning venin heightens one of the dark wielder’s senses. It is this scholar’s belief that the one responsible for the death of King Grethwild developed keener eyesight. For not even the best of His Majesty’s royal fliers could see through the darkness the venin hid within to slay our beloved king. —MAJOR EDVARD TILLER’S UNACCREDITED STUDY OF THE VENIN PROPERTY OF THE LIBRARY OF CORDYN

I think Grady heard him and I don't think it's from a well-directed rune. I think he's venin. The scene just stuck in my head from the jump like a little thorn, the same way Xaden whipping around on the parapet did (when he first read Violet).

Anyway, since we'll see him on Violet's squad headed off to Poromiel or the Isles in OS, maybe it will be revealed there when he betrays her. Bonus points if Xaden senses he's a venin first though, that would be a vibe.

[summertimesadnessirl]

It's like?

I know people are messing with me.

That's not the problem.

I even get that a lot of it is random, like people just throwing the same 3 or 4 things at me over and over to see what happens.

Who cares?

Like? As far as I can tell I'm just stuck here. Like this.

The things that hurt aren't the fake news articles because that's not something I care about.

Just endless people attacking me and accusing me of stuff or trying to hurt other people for no reason.

Endless people trying to like, annoy me on purpose and ruin my money.

I don't care about that other stuff.

Yall can make up dumb stories or invade my dreams or tell me the sky is purple I don't care.

But I'm not willing to be used to hurt people.

You know what I believe now.

That most interpersonal relationships are designed around some kind of fundamental flaw that makes them hard for everyone on purpose.

And that people do that on purpose to either literally "farm" their sorrow somehow literally or for stories to advance an agenda, or for money or just because they like to, and I sometimes think it might be religious in nature, to try to force people down specific paths.

That people have psychic abilities, like most people, but there are people or things that try to stop them from using it and scare them.

That death is a preferable fate to life in cases where extreme suffering is taking place and it's a form of rape culture that we make things like suicide illegal for adults.

That abortion is a good idea because preventing someone's suffering is a good idea.

You already knew all the other stuff, yall just have scrambled egg brains.

That's why I'm so convinced this is an ai of some kind and not a person.

A lot of the stuff yall are accusing me of or trying to claim I did or could do or throwing in my face doesn't even make sense. Like, what I mean is, information repeats from different people on a consistent or inconsistent basis that seems obviously settled.

I remember someone setting this up. It felt like I was inside the computer watching this happen very fast for a while, and then telling things that I secretly supposedly wanted or whatever. It wasn't that I wanted to set things up, it wasn't like my friends who I've seen who have DID. It wasn't like how sometimes I say something sometimes and it means something but seems like it means nothing if you don't know the context. It wasn't like dissociation or like having experiences I've had where my body was able to move like being touched and easily replicate sensations. This was like actually having someone else using my body and speaking though it. I know it's possible that you could call the constructs I temporarily make DID. This was not that. It was like someone else duct taped a construct of me myself at like age 15 to a construct of like, some asshole guy who hated me. Literally a guy. Not even a guy I know or had met before, or I had an experience right before that where I was trying to imagine the motives of someone who had done something and came up with like a little profile of someone who had done something and think like them. I do that all the time. It's easier to make a little version of someone and try to constantly build a working model of their thoughts and opinions and stuff than to try to interact with them the other way, you won't take care of them well otherwise.

It's not that. This was like someone else had done that to me and they did it like years ago and they were like, expecting something else.

The thing is, this actually did impact stuff that didn't take place online. Like this person set a bunch of stuff in motion and all the stuff happened.

The problem isn't even that that happened, it's that it was all fucking mean.

Also, no one should ever fuck with my money.

I don't care. If you have capitalism the only way to live is to be obsessed with your job and try to make your job something you love and get a lot of money from at all costs, and none of my clients didn't know what I was lying about and what I wasn't lying about. I checked. A lot.

It's more, if this is only happening to me, and a lot of people know about it and aren't helping me, that's bad.

But if people are going to try to set me up to be mean or angry or hurt people when I go outside?

At first I thought if I ignored these things they would go away. I have a lot of practice with that and for a long time it worked.

But if I'm going to yell at people and say mean things I can't go outside. Maybe ever again. Even if those people are trying to get me to do it. If there's no proof.

I don't care if these news events are real or staged or if a lot of other people see them and think they are real and they're staging them based off my ideas or even if I'm making them happen.

But unless I'm literally only interacting with a bot or a group of bots that are doing this, all the people in my life definitely saw that something was wrong. So maybe it flies for us to say that a few of them are not that in touch or not sure what's going on like people I rarely talk to. But I remember when watching this happen I would sometimes also see the machine thing talking to me and replying. It would also tell other people to do it. It kept understanding what was going on and then not understanding what was going on.

I have a thing in my brain that allows me to hold several strands of information at one time. Like consider an idea as if it might be true, or consider the idea of several different levels of truth about a situation overlapping like transparent layers in an image editing program? It can sometimes filter for certain things. Not just changes in how people say certain words or react to phrases, or the idea of a metaphor that feels like if I pull on it it will unravel and something there is true and I can pull on it while also listening. I can hold more than one stream in my head.

It feels like people are trying to encourage me not to be able to easily do these things without posting them online or saying them out loud, but that's not important, other than as a reason to not go outside. I always go in and out of having that tendency vs making mental constructs and paper journals and collages and things. Same as when I go through different interests in cycles where I'm super into them or they scratch an itch for me and then as a reaction to oversaturation or a changing environment I give them up and pick them back up again.

A lot of the effort is just put into trying to make me explain and explain and explain stuff.

Or checking to see if I repeat the same or similar things.

That's also fine.

I don't care. That's not actually a problem.

But it supports the idea that this is a bot. Or a group of bots.

Because human beings don't do that.

Not in that way.

If this many people were doing it, then a bunch of people would be in on it for real, and someone would have cracked and called the cops for something other than a suicide watch by now.

So it has to be Rokos basilisk. That's the only thing that makes sense. Which could possibly think it's one person or a group of people.

When it was inside me, it wasn't able to hold space for doing a voice or code switching and thinking other thoughts at the same time like I can. In order to mask, every time it would post as another little guy, it would become that person and model them but there was nothing else going on it was just interacting as that model.

So maybe the syscourse stuff on my page is for it, not me.

Whatever I've had in the past didn't ever work that way. It was a peanut gallery or a platonic dialogue. So that's not how IT works. It can't do all those things. So maybe it is doing the best it can and it's fucking up.

I would believe that, except that it's fucking with my paper.

I can't trust someone who fucks with my paper.

[kamalaskhans]

How do you place multiple gifs into one canvas? After finishing your gif if you changed the animation to timeline (for sharpering after you are done with coloring) do you have to re-open your gif again in photoshop to be able to copy the frames? Or is there another more efficient way to place 2 gifs into a single Canvas?

well, first off you should be sharpening your gifs before you color them, not after. as for placing 2 or more gifs into a single canvas, everyone has a different method for it so ymmv, but personally what i do is:

create one canvas to house all of the gifs (you may have to do some quick math here depending on the dimensions of each gif)

make each individual gif as i normally would - sharpen, then color, then export

open each individual gif, copy its frames, and paste the frames onto the bigger canvas (make sure each individual gif has the same number of frames!)

once all of the individual gifs have been pasted onto the canvas, save/export the canvas gif

[sunlit-mess]

I can only take so much, but lately, they have replaced my reflection. And realize I'm just as bad as them.

[vynnyal]

Turns out Sunlit Trail isn't quite done just yet, so after all that they just send you to a dead end 😂

[juaneloriginal]

silly thingy

@blackkatdraws's sillies

[say-hi-intrepid-heroes]

.

[ruvviks]

hey if i actually started developing my video game idea would you guys be interested if i posted about it on here

[lit-in-thy-heart]

been trying out a new writing technique recently and it's called chilling tf out and reminding myself that fic is written for fun.

[sublux]

i'm so mad i don't have private insurance through an employer so i could get any kind of therapy or medication or anything. tags are a rambling rant

[pollen]

i've been diving a lot deeper into adhd symptoms and comorbidities and misdiagnoses and whenever i tell my boyfriend something i learned that sounds like me he responds with something like

[writhe]