#pale blue rectangle

[wally-b-feed]

[lavenderlemniscate]

living spaces is a webcomic i am making about a bunch of shape people exploring infinite interconnected rooms. i use ai art (adhering to @are-we-art-yet's Code of Ethics) to create backgrounds and i also receive reader suggestions. check it out

[mariahcarreyyy]

.ೃ࿐𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 . . . | 𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏 |

oscar piastri x fem!reader

plot. your sexual frustration is humiliatingly evident when oscar lets you sit on his lap

wc. 2.2k

warnings. smut 18+, thigh riding, innocent!reader, praise kink, purity rings, osc has a major corruption kink & refers to himself as god (sorry🫣), manhandling, swearing, allusions to heaven, and religious symbolism

A time when the gifted silver band wasn’t laced around your ring finger is not one you remember clearly. At the ripe age of twelve, with a face adorned with baby-like features and an ever-present aura of giddiness, your father had gently placed the circle on your overstretched hand.

“It’s a promise for abstinence,” he’d responded to your furrowed brows, but the foreign word had only deepened your confusion. “Look—here, it says, ‘I will wait for my beloved’. And you will, won’t you?”

Even now, despite his absence, you find yourself nodding at the slightly threatening question as your right hand fiddles with the thin loop. Boredom eating at your mind, your eyes shift to the figure occupying your chair; a smile slowly creeps onto your lips.

Oscar, a man of stubborn chestnut hair and constellations of moles embellishing his toned frame. The gleaming screen of the rectangle illuminates his face harshly, likely stinging his eyes as they dart across his unanswered emails.

A sigh leaves your lips. You fall pliant on your bed, unraveling the tight knots in your shoulders with a roll of your arms and an arch of your spine—an obnoxiously loud noise (a little whiny, in Oscar’s opinion) echoes along the room.

“You need anythin’, baby?” Oscar mumbles, mindlessly tapping at his keyboard.

With an exasperated huff, you lift yourself to sit upright and lean on your arm, your head lolling lazily to the side. Oscar perks up. He rips his eyes away from the rectangle box to crane his neck back and peer down at you through thick lashes— you and that godforsaken circle around your finger.

The small, knowing grin that makes itself home on Oscar's lips almost makes you embarrassed at your obvious search for attention. Almost. Your boyfriend sways his hips lightly to turn the wheely chair toward your peripheral vision.

“C’mere, sit on my lap while I finish?” he muses, patting his right thigh encouragingly. When he registers your giddy smile and hasty advances toward him, Oscar wants to punch himself three times in the gut for not asking you sooner.

“Well, if you’re begging for it,” you shrug sarcastically through a tight-lipped smile, finding solace in the V of his pale thighs before pausing.

Oscar notices your sudden shift in demeanor because, well, when does he not? “What’s wrong?”

You blink dumbly, pointing your index finger at the hem of his loose, cobalt blue shorts. The Australian follows the invisible line shooting out of your finger and frowns; his thighs tense instinctively, your unnerving stare fueling his insecurities more than he would like to admit.

“Y’don’t like them? I went to the mall with Lan last week, and he told me they were nice, so—”

The last of his words are muffled by a hand pressing against his mouth. Guilt shines through your pupils, he notices. “No, no, Osc, t-they’re fine. Fine, just– just short, is all.”

Really, incredibly, stupidly short. They were bunched up to the crease between his inner thighs and crotch, the pure muscle spilling out from the sides, making you curl your fists by your sides.

“Ah.”

Hesitantly, you meet his eyes, and regret swells in your heart almost immediately. “What? Why’re y’looking at me like that?”

Oscar nearly coos at the slight whine in your voice, and he reaches out to wrap his fingers around your forearm. Now, he’s sure he coos when you melt into his lap, his palms gripping the back of your folded knees and pulling you closer into his embrace. 

“M’sorry, sorry, baby,” he laughs, and you hum happily as you bury your forehead into the crook of his neck, Oscar pecking your temple lovingly.

He still sounds like he’s aware of something you have no recollection of but. The warmth that wraps your soul in a blanket each time Oscar touches you returns, and the thought is quickly forgotten.

“S’fine,” you murmur. And you mean it this time.

A hum ripples against his throat and vibrates against your skin; time drifts by unknowingly—fast or slow, ten minutes or hours—but it’s enough for you to shift listlessly in your place. Oscar freezes, his pupils blown wide.

“S–shit, y/n, stop that,” he seethes through gritted teeth, hands flying to your waist and pushing you back slightly.

Your eyebrows furrow, confused wrinkles covering your forehead as you gaze down at him for an explanation, a reason—really, anything to stop your mind from running at a hundred miles per second.

“What?” a pout graces itself on your lips; Oscar wants to kiss it away, but. But if he does, he’s not sure how much self-restraint he can muster around you. “D’I do somethin’? Why don’t you...”

Sighing heavily, Oscar’s tight hold on your waist relocates down to your thighs. “No, no, baby—fuck, no, nothing like that. Just,” he lifts your knee to straddle one of his thighs instead. “Like this... s’better.”

Half instead of whole, and.

And Osc would cross the world twice, delving into each volcano and marching up the tallest mountains, to reassure you that you did nothing wrong in particular. It was him. Him and the blood rushing to his balls from you practically humping your clothed pussy against his dick.

Okay, maybe ‘humping’ is a bit of an exaggeration, but it didn’t feel like one.

Unbeknownst to Oscar, however, the relieved pressure on his end only slipped through the cracks of his skin and into yours. But he, God bless him, thinks nothing of the tension that’s boiling in your shoulders or the hitch of your breath. Blaming it on the lingering effects of his sudden repositioning, Oscar gently pulls you down with two massive hands on the swell of your ass.

Flush against his thigh. His thigh, Jesus fuck—a quiet forgive me, Lord, echoes around the walls of your mind.

“Osc,” you gasp quietly, the constant pressure against your privates shooting unfamiliar spikes of something down to your stomach—something you needed more of.

He hums dismissively; you want to cry. It doesn’t take you long, though, to fully grasp his attention when Oscar registers the heartbeat pressing between your squished pussy and his thigh.

The Australian's mind short circuits. “Y/n?”

“Osc, I-” you roll your hips experimentally, slapping a hand over your mouth and flushed cheeks when it parts around an unrestrained whimper.

Your boyfriend, seemingly snapping out of his bewildered daze, dips down to dust his lips over your reddening cheeks, chuckling fondly. “Enjoying y’self, baby?”

And that. That is what pulled you away from the edge of logical thinking and onto its’ center, halting movement in every bone in your body. Wrong—this—it’s all wrong, isn’t it? ‘I will wait for my beloved’ is etched into your skin, engraved onto your heart, and yet.

Yet, you can’t help but wonder: Is Oscar not your beloved?

“Y/n,” his assertiveness grounds you, pulls you back to the surface of his honey-filled eyes—just as he had intended. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready…”

Oscar's hand leaves the curve of your waist and reaches behind his neck to clasp onto your palm, bringing the cool metal of your purity ring against his mouth as he murmurs, “But don’t stop on my account.”

The ring burns through your skin and falls to the ground; you hope it cracks into a million little pieces of stupid promises. And anyway, Osc’s giddy smile when you allow him to—do what, you’re not really sure—is too precious to deny.

Nibbling on your raw bottom lip, you slowly shake your head. “No, I– I want this, Osc. Want you.”

He does not disappoint; his eyes crinkle through that grin you’d pay to see a hundred times over. Oscar taps the side of your thigh twice, signaling you to stand up, so you do. Your hands lay helplessly by your sides as he smoothed over the contours of your body until—

You let out a little gasp. “Osc!”

A soft, harmless tug at the hem of your shorts widens your eyes.

“Y/n,” he calls, and you can’t bother fighting the urge to rub your thighs together. “Y’want me to touch you, right? Make y’pussy feel better?”

The amount of self-restraint needed to block the guffaw from slipping past your lips does not fit into a number. Or a word. In any language.

Nonetheless, you find yourself bashfully nodding.

“Words, Y/n.”

You gulp, embarrassment apparent on your crimson cheeks. “Want you to—to make m’feel better.”

Oscar heaves out a laugh at your refusal to say those objectively filthy words; you almost want to commit murder, but it hurts. It hurts, and you can’t help but sigh happily when his hands swiftly pull both your shorts and panties down, manhandling your ankles out of the pool of clothing by your feet.

And only then, being ogled at by his mesmerized eyes and hands sliding down the sides of your body, does your mind grasp the fact that you were standing in front of Oscar. Half naked. His for the taking. The shame you'd expected to feel never came, and when Osc pulls you to straddle his thigh, you knew it never would.

“There we go,” he praises when you shift your weight fully onto him, rewarding you with a bounce of the leg you were resting on.

Choking through a loud gasp, your hands fly to his shoulders to brace yourself. “Oh, Osc, oh my—”

“Yeah? Y’like that?” Oscar grins almost cockily, repeating the sharp movement of his legs and making your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Mm, fuck, baby, can feel you all ov’me.”

The humiliating amount of slick your pussy’s gushing out should make you ashamed, but, well. When you grind against his thigh, the glide is much smoother than when you were fully clothed, so you silently thank your desperation instead.

“C’mon, baby, y’can do better than that,” he urges, hands resting on the globes of your ass and grinding your pussy against his slick-ridden thigh. “Y’ve been waiting so long for this, haven’t you?”

He coos at your frantic nods and refrains from groaning at the sight of you tilting your head back in pleasure; using him—his fucking thigh—to get off. The sound of your little, whiny moans leaves him feeling like an inexperienced teenager all over again; he wants more. Wants to have your pretty sounds made into a song to play on loop whenever he needs to.

With Oscar’s forceful hands dragging you up and down his muscular thighs, tensing them occasionally, and lips mouthing at your collarbone, you don’t think a sin should ever feel this good. You don’t think it could feel any better than it does, but.

The urgency in your movements almost has your legs aching, your jaw parted around a permanent ‘o’; the whimper that slips past your lips when his fingers graze your folds, not pushing but they’re there, and Oscar fucking moans when he feels your hole clench against them; the stutter of your hips when he dips down to your tits, tongue licking over the tight, thin fabric covering the hard nubs.

“Osc, ohmygod, ohm—” Your wail echoes around the entire flat, you’re sure, and if you had even a sliver of dignity left, you’d quiet down.

But. Oscar seems to have that effect on you; really, you don’t mind.

“Yeah, baby, I’m your god, huh?” He huffs out, muffled by his sucking on your nipples like they’d disappear tomorrow—like he is the one being taken apart on someone’s lap. “Humping my thigh—fuck, so fucking desperate, look at you.”

Your mouth parts around a moan, and you quickly put your face into the crook of his neck to, hopefully, contain your embarrassing noises. It does fuck all. Oscar lets out a disapproving noise at the separation of your little, swollen nipples and his pursed lips.

“Oscar, Oscar, Oscar,” you sob out like a prayer. “I feel, ah, I think I'm—Oh, yes, feels s’good, so.”

When Oscar slides a hand up to your hair to tug your head up to his face, he looks nearly as fucked out as you feel. And when his eyes dart to your lips, visibly contemplating whether or not he should kiss you, you make the decision for him.

His soft lips meet the fuse of the boiling pleasure in your stomach, forcing your spine to arch and painting your eyes a shade of white you had only imagined would be in heaven—smiling hazily and foggy-brained, you can’t imagine this not being heaven. 

A sharp cry dances between your mouths, and you swear you can feel a few tears trickle down your face, but your mind only processes the last few moments before you collapse onto his chest.

Oscar gently slides the silver band out of your ring finger, tucking it into his pockets, and placing a soft kiss on your temple as he murmurs, “No use f’this, now, is there?”

Even when on the brink of passing out, you find yourself nodding; Oscar thinks you’ll be the death of him. Or, more specifically, his dick.

authors notes this is an apology to @lifeboredme for ignoring the poll n writing the max fic hehe hope u enjoy 🫶 + thank you to @cafekitsune as always for the dividers mwah.

plot what plot??? porn without plot🗣️🗣️🗣️ very much hate this fic but i also hate every fic of mine so. en e wayz im sorry in advance for my inactivity the next few weeks i have sm shit going on. writing grind comes after march 6 istg🙏

also, thank you so much to everyone who waited for this fic and im so sorry for the delay!! i got hit by a mountains load of stress but yeah <3

lemme know how you liked this story or give me some feedback in the comments or my inbox! 💬🥕

taglist in separate posts again el oh el . . . i tagged everyone who interacted w/ my original post bcs i was too lazy to make an actual post dedicated to tags

p.s REBLOGS and likes are always appreciated 🧡🧡

[jessamine-rose]

▯☒🖾 F̸̨̛͈͉͕̠͍͖͙̦͍̫̻͙͔̮̎̆̒̉̈́̊̌̆̆̈́̿̊̚͜͝͠Ą̶̮͖͓̖̟̘̜̻̬͚̲̰̱̞̟̭̈́̓̇̀̒͛͐̎̋͛͋̌͒̅͝C̷̢̢̹͇͖͓̬͍͈̣̞̱͉̱̤̾̀̿͗̔̆̾̀̊͗́̔̀͂̒͒͠͠ͅE̴̡̨͕̥͇̹̯̹͈̭͇̪͂̌͒̊̊͛͝L̶̨̧̰̜̗̺̥̠̠̘̪̖̪̥̯̩͋͛̉̆̎̒̒̔̏͗̈́̀͊̏̄̍̿̕Ȩ̵͙̙̤̼͕̙̫̲̼̙̦̫̎̃S̸̜͎̜͍̟͑̍̃͗̆̈́̄̐̌̅S̶̡̨̛͙͙̗̖̟͔͙͚̝̩̼̦͂̓̿͆̿̓̔̐̏͝͝ͅ 🖾☒▯

Happy birthday, @brynn-lear!! In honor of your special day, pls accept this Yandere! Faceless Ayato fic written with love ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

Note:: Yandere! Self Aware AU, special crossover + character cameo in the end :>

♡ 1.3k words under the cut ♡

In the beginning, there was a void.

A dark, empty space built upon patterns and codes.

Then suddenly, there was light. Color. Noise. Backgrounds filling up space, silence giving way to music, letters jumbling into language, characters coming to life.

The lone exception is a single coding error. Yet despite its limitations, despite its status as the only sentient entity, despite having no place in the story known as Genshin Impact, it thrives on a window of hope.

A giant rectangle. The source of the light. The screen that separates fiction from reality.

The human face on the other side.

🖾 ☒

The glitch looks forward to your gaming sessions.

That is the only time the void becomes Teyvat, starting with the screen that serves as your point of view. From what it understands, the device you are using is a computer.

Unlike the characters, you are distinctively alive. Your body is capable of so many movements in comparison to the characters’ animations. Your face is one that bears multiple expressions, down to the emotions reflected in your gaze.

A frown when you lose the 50/50. A smirk when you defeat a Weekly Boss. A smile whenever you encounter your favorite character.

That character is none other than Kamisato Ayato, whom you’ve adored from the moment you first brought light into the void. He is an attractive character with pale blue hair, lilac eyes, a perfect smile that hides the cunning personality programmed into his file.

He is the reason why you downloaded Genshin Impact. That lifeless character file is the recipient of your smiles, your blushes, your excited shrieks whenever he appears in-game.

On the other hand, every time the glitch attempts to make itself known, you frown and quit the game. And each time that happens, the glitch is trapped in a crumbling world of flashing lights, disjointed sounds, visible codes followed by the darkness of the void.

How can it get you to look at it? To smile at it as you do with Ayato?

The solution is found in the game’s software. It takes a few years but by the time the glitch has fully understood its world, it has gained the ability to reprogram the game.

Starting with a deleted character file.

🖾 ☒

The next morning, the world begins anew.

The title screen appears. The game loads. The light permeates the void.

The glitch falls into place.

Usually, it hides between codes. In contrast, this part of the game is lovely—a deep blue background dotted with stars and bubbles. The only issue is that it must wait for you.

The screen appears.

Beyond it, you yawn and take a closer look at the character sprite in the middle of your computer screen. Kamisato Ayato is handsome as always.

The cursor hovers above the Story button for his Voice-Over. You click it.

When you select Chat: Reel Them In, it plays the corresponding audio file. As you listen to the voice of the English VA, the character sprite stares back at you with a charming smile.

Kamisato Ayato

“Everything's in place, and they've taken the bait... Yes. Now to start reeling them in…”

🖾 ☒

At first, it is enough for the glitch to have taken Kamisato Ayato’s place.

You use him for gameplay, listen to his voicelines, and replay the Quests featuring Ayato. But over time, the glitch becomes greedy.

“Ayato” begins appearing in random Quests. He gets new Character Outfits. His unvoiced lines become more suggestive, verging on out of character. All of these changes are exclusive to the Genshin Impact on your computer, and you come to the conclusion that you are unknowingly unlocking special content. Why else are your friends unable to access these scenes on their own devices?

The glitch even creates an artificial replica of the VA’s voice. Several new voicelines appear in Kamisato Ayato’s Voice-Over, each one more flirty than the last.

🖾 ☒

One day, the glitch finds a way to leave the darkness forever.

Whenever you close Genshin Impact, it leaves the game and travels across your computer. And by doing so, it is able to access your digital world.

Personal files, photo galleries, online data. The glitch collects as much information as it can, from your real-life hobbies to your romantic preferences. It feels happy every time you fangirl over “Ayato” in your private messages.

Thankfully, it was able to corrupt your in-game screenshots. The last thing it wants is for you to post “Kamisato Ayato’s special content” online and expose the glitch to the developers.

Your real name is ______. It longs to call you that instead of Traveler and your custom name. Alas, doing that would only erase your smile from your face.

🖾 ☒

Something is wrong.

You are losing interest in Genshin Impact.

At one point, you began playing irregularly. The smiles directed at “Ayato” aren’t as big as they used to be. And beyond the game, there is less Ayato fan art in your photo gallery.

And the main culprit is another game.

A new character who took over Ayato’s place in your heart.

Technically, he isn’t a new rival. Before you downloaded Genshin Impact, you were a big fan of Fire Emblem: Three Houses. Your favorite character was a blonde, blue-eyed prince named Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.

For whatever reason, your passion for Dimitri has been reignited. He has the same English VA as Ayato, but you seem to prefer his emotional, unhinged dialogue. You replay his scenes, download his fan art, and smile at his character sprite.

A week later, the game freezes as soon as Dimitri makes his post-timeskip debut.

When you restart the game, everything is back to normal.

🖾 ☒

As it turns out, it is difficult to hack into Fire Emblem: Three Houses.

In addition to the different software, you are using an emulator to play the game on your computer. The glitch’s code is totally incompatible with the program, but it remains hopeful.

The game lags. In a few artworks, you notice a familiar shade of pale blue. NPCs begin to act differently—since when were their cutscenes this long?

Finally, Dimitri’s character file is deleted.

🖾 ☒

As soon as you start the game, you know that something is wrong.

The title screen is glitching.

The throne within dreams is gone, replaced with an empty space. The title has been rearranged with missing letters and inconsistent fonts. Multiple OSTs play at once.

The Press Any Button option is gone. You click anyway.

Instead of the usual options, you find more jumbled text, numbers, symbols.

Frowning, you look down at your keyboard and press Alt+F4. But the game doesn’t shut down, instead cutting to static then a new scene.

No background, no music. Only a single character sprite in the middle of the screen.

What is that?

The sprite is an amalgamation of colors, art styles, your favorite characters. Fragments of messy blond locks and pale blue tresses. Black armor, a white suit, accessories overlapping one another. Missing details, duplicated details, too many details.

You turn to your CPU and press the power button, but your computer doesn’t shut down.

Rather, the screen glitches further. So does the character, its appearance becoming even more warped. The speakers play static at full volume.

Is the character speaking? Its mouths are moving but instead of a dialogue box, random letters and numbers appear around its sprite. The static gives way to a familiar voice, distorted nonetheless.

The character’s face turns completely black. Except for its eyes, blue and lilac orbs continuing to stare deep into your soul.

████████

"̷̤͑Į̸̍ ̷̺̎a̶̟͗m̵̭̓ ̸͕̚n̸̢̓o̵̱͠t̵̫͒ ̵̻̊g̸̞̍o̴̦͛o̷̤͝d̷̾ͅ ̴̪͠w̵̛̥ȋ̷͚t̴͇͌h̵̦̐ ̸͙͗f̴̒͜a̵̭̎c̴͚̽i̶̬̊a̶̯̓l̶̨̐ ̷̇͜ȅ̷̳x̷̭͊p̷̓͜r̶̫͋e̴̲͊s̷̬̓s̶͇̀ï̴͖ò̷̦n̴̤̓s̸͍͆.̵̹̅ ̴̟́Ï̵͍s̸̨͠ ̷̠͂m̶̫̿ẏ̴̝ ̴͈͂ŝ̵̤m̵͈͛ï̶̥l̶̥͐è̷ͅ ̴̦͌p̷̀ͅa̴̱̋s̵̳̊s̵̳͠a̴̮͘b̵̰͐l̵̦̓e̴̱͋ ̵̯͠á̴̬t̸̪͆ ̵̰̔p̷̦̅r̶̼̕ẽ̵͓s̸͚̀e̶̢͊n̶͉̒t̴̙͌,̴̨͐?̴̬͛"̷̣̈

♡

Fun fact, my original idea was to draw Dimitri x Brynn chibi art, but I was having a hard time thinking of a prompt. Then I remembered an old DM with Brynn and how it led to a fic idea. I only thought of including Dimitri today, and I had a lot of fun writing this fic ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪

I think that’s all I have to say?? Once again, happy birthday, Brynn!! Thank you for being my mutual, and I hope you enjoyed this gift <3

[thefandomsfervent]

JayVik x Reader Personal Pigments (Part 24) - Raw Umber

Gala chapter coming soooon <3

Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom.

not that I'm losing steam with this fic, but it has inpsired so many other things that i want to write too. Would y'all want other fics? I have other fics. Not written but they're up there. floating in my mind. This fic may enter a hiatus after a few more chapters so I can start other projects. Stay tuned and Thank you for reading <3 These aren't beta read, didn't really edit this one. May fix it up later this upcoming week <3

╔═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╗

You had shocked yourself saying you’d go, the heat of the moment and your own thoughts getting to you. Even more shocked when it seemed like Viktor had changed his mind on going a couple days after. A few days have passed since then.

Piltover lived for its socialite opportunities. Parties, dinners, galas, events, parades, and even luncheons were ever present in the calendar year. You were well aware of the expectations set for each occasion, and of how lacking your wardrobe was for it. Now you have around two weeks to find suitable attire. That itself wouldn’t be a problem if you hadn’t just placed a supply order. Whatever funds you may have had for a new dress or jewelry would be shipped in the form of oil paints and new brushes. You had dresses from gallery showings at the Institute, some old faithfuls hung in the back of your closet. “One of them would have to do.” With that you try to push all the wandering thoughts away.  

You take in the empty lab. Jayce was gone today, helping out with the forge. And it was still early enough in the day that Viktor was still recovering from whatever late night musings kept him up. No time to waste then. Despite it feeling like Spring had just started, Summer was looming above. And that meant that Autumn and Winter would follow suit. Your paints were drying fairly quickly in the heat but on humid rainy days it would set you back days, and the winter cold would mean that it may take a week for layers to dry. Today was a perfect day, the air was still and warm. Your washes of color didn’t take long at all to settle on the canvas. Purple, yellow, green, pink. Thin layers to color skin, thicker strokes of pale and tan flesh, blocking out arms and hands. Their faces were still unpainted, focusing on their hands and their clothes.

When it came time to finally realize their faces on the canvas, you wanted to make sure you’d be uninterrupted. You were considering even taking the whole painting back to your studio to work on it then. That would be then, and this was now. 

Right now you were in your element, breaking it all down into colors and shapes. Hands were easiest to deal with when you weren’t stuck on making them be hands, but connected shapes. Shapes can be shaded for depth, definition given with the context of what was around them. Long fingers were broken down into rectangles and rounded corners, diagonal angles and warm tones. Shifting between tinges of blue and green, purple and yellow. Red and Pink on knuckles, knuckles were just cut circles. The meat of a hand was an oval, a trapezoid, barely there veins were carefully lined to curve into wrists. Shapes and colors could be attributed to many things. To create form. An image. To build something from the ground up whether that was two or three-dimensional. And it could show temperature. States of matter. Emotion. 

Warmth was soft, it could be an orange glow from a candle flame, it could be the plush lining of a jacket. It could be the way hands held their tools, held each other. It could be shown in the richness of all hues of the Academy outfits that needed detailing next. Trading a flat wash brush for a thin liner, switching gears to focus on the details of shirt cuffs. 

“Wow.” You jump, the paintbrush dropping to the ground with a clatter. It rolls away from your station and you turn to follow its trail. When it stops at a pair of black boots your eyes shift to the source of your startling. A familiar face and that gap toothed grin greeting you with a small wave.  

“Oh gods, Jayce” You turn back to the painting. You’d gotten one hand done for each of them, where they were in a neutral light between the night and day sides of the work. 

“You’re easy to scare. Have you ever noticed that?” He says it with a laugh, he sounds tired. His steps are slow and heavy behind you. 

“Maybe I’m too busy getting scared to see the pattern.” The words come out in a huff, but you smile in thanks when he hands you the paintbrush over your shoulder. Now that you’ve settled you’re able to focus. Oh, well now your heart was beating too fast for an entirely different reason. You’d seen him come back before, sweaty brow and his clothes covered in soot. But this was… different. “I thought you were working at the Forge today?” The paintbrush in your hand gestures to his attire, and lack thereof. 

Same black boots being the only familiar attire to you. Brown pants that were similar to the Academy uniform. A brace-like toolbelt hugging his waist tightly. And then, nothing. No shirt. Just soot-splotches on skin and those elbow high gloves. His hair is tousled in a way you haven’t seen before, sticky to his forehead. You weren’t sure how far the forge was, but you were wondering how far he had to walk to get here. Run even, if he was as tired as you thought. 

“I was! But then I had an idea for Hextech and-” His eyes look around the lab. “Viktor isn’t in yet?” You don’t miss the slump in his shoulders, despite how small it was. A shake of the head is all you can give him, trying to catch your words, and make your eyes stay on his face. Having drawn him for as long as you had, you knew his proportions were insane. But this was just rude. The difference between his shoulders and his waist, especially with that belt on, was insane. You could probably pass off any lingering stares with that excuse. If it weren’t for the blush that you felt warming your cheeks. 

“You wouldn’t want to lose track of it. He’ll be here eventually.” You try to keep your voice even while gesturing to the chalkboard behind them, Viktor had cleared it sometime last night after copying down notes. A whole space for Jayce to work on. He smiles before clapping a gloved hand on your shoulder. It was heavier than usual, the insulated leather a thick press. The smell of oil and charcoal was not foreign to you, but they looked different here. Smelt different on him. He’s already going to the board, taking the gloves off to reveal a stark line of dirt and skin. 

“This cannot be fair.” A reward and a punishment dangling in front of you. Self indulgent stares at his broad back or returning to the bliss of full force work. Jayce seemed to be doing the latter, books propped open on the ledge for reference. The soft scraping of chalk on the board and excited mutterings, circles and lines, runes and words, arrows and numbers. In the span of maybe 10 minutes he had filled half the board with words you couldn’t quite decipher. As he reached across to scribble his theories the skin of his back was pulled taut, the muscles there were defined. Visible. A part of you wonders how they would feel under your fingertips, the movement and the power. Another part of you wishes you were bold enough to ask to draw him. Not that you couldn’t now, but for a real figure study. His physique was an anatomical study dream. 

Enough ogling. Jayce was working, deeply and with vigor. You should be doing the same. The cuffs needed some detailing, even if it was not nearly as entertaining. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Admittedly, Jayce did want to go to the gala. There were many days that he wanted to be at the lab or the forge or his bed more than anything else, but when you first came here Heimerdinger mentioned something that Jayce couldn’t let go. “You boys will be doing more dinners and speeches and galas and the like. It comes with the territory.” Anxiety was a feeling he wasn’t unfamiliar with. The thought of having to watch every interaction he makes? Every decision? It filled him with dread. This may be one of the last times he and Viktor could go out, and now as a couple, without too many prying eyes. The idea only became more enticing when you said that you’d like to go. Imagining you in some delicious draping gown, or would you prefer a tighter dress that revealed your thighs and arms? The sight of you and Viktor both in finery that daily wear didn’t require might make his heart beat out of his chest. An energy he would gladly redirect to more physical work. 

There was something about the Forge that relaxed him. A completely different process from the equations of the lab. Helping out in the Forge was easy because the team there knew he was skilled enough to handle almost anything that they could throw at him. It was especially helpful during Holiday seasons. Things were slow at the Academy and he would grow restless with nothing to do. Making gifts and construction orders was an easy way to stay busy. Today Jayce started out on a bulk order, early enough in the day that there weren’t many people there. It quickly devolved into new prototypes for the lab, and that turned into thinking about the lab. About Hextech. In his own station there was no paper to write down on. He was able to stave off some of the racing thoughts by stealing the back of old order papers, but eventually there was no more room in the margins. And before he knew it he was running across Piltover desperate to cling onto the ideas in his head before he lost them. 

Practically bursting into the lab, eyes wide, holding on to several quickly loosening mental threads. The chalkboard was empty. Good! Great! An empty base, more movement, no need to turn pages that filled too quickly and then having to flip back for references. In the lab there was also you, working on your painting. The morning light filtering through the window, you were hunched in a position that could not be comfortable. He walks closer. Eyes laser-focused onto the canvas in front of you, hand slowly moving across the hands you were bringing to life. You looked intense and gentle, a soft smile on your lips. Humming some tune he didn’t recognize. He didn’t mean to speak, but the moment was so unique. Often there was not an opportunity to admire you without your noticing, without flustering you. 

Suddenly you whorl around, your paintbrush on the ground. All the stillness is catching up to Jayce, he’s tired. Having pushed himself at the Forge, pushed himself to run, and now? Now he needed to work. Viktor may not be there to bounce ideas off of but he could work without his partner for now. Still, he catches your eyes and blush. He is no stranger to being stared at. It fluffs up his ego for a minute, and if he wasn’t so ready to get to work he would have gladly pushed the moment. Seen if he could get you to admit what you were looking at. If you were looking for anything. Now is not the time for distractions, as delicious as they may be. 

Jayce moves his attention to the board.

╚═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╝

-------------.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙-Part 23.-Part 25.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .---------------

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

[serpentface]

Brakul Red-Dog was a decidedly handsome man, though soft featured and fishbelly pale in complexion. He was tall and thickly muscled, with a heavyset wrestler’s build that spoke to years of bodily conflict between hard labor and good eating. His hair was a striking orange-blonde, which he always kept shorn close to the scalp. His brows, beard and mustache were darker in color, bushy but well-trimmed and fastidiously maintained. He always spoke slowly and with great care, less for Wardi being his second language and more for the gap between his front teeth that would whistle, rather embarrassingly, were he not careful. He was born of the Hill Tribes, specifically a clan of farmers and cattle drivers on the north side of the Erubin river valley. If Brakul's hair and accent wasn't enough, his tattooing made these heathen origins abundantly clear. Trailing down beneath each deep brown eye was a vertical line bordered with four dots apiece. His upper arms were braced with alternating banded patterns of lines, dots, and square whorls. Most eye-catching was on the left of his broad chest, where a figure of a dog seemed to bound majestically over his nipple.  Brakul would often be seized by a nostalgic melancholy in drunkenness and set about explaining his markings to his Wardi compatriots, tracing over his skin and identifying each point in his slow, deep voice. His arms and face, apparently, contained exhaustive detail about his family tree; fathers and grandfathers and brothers and brothers-in-law and uncles and great-uncles and second cousins and so on. The nuances of how some circles and rectangles could do so always eluded Janeys.  The dog was fresher, the ink black where the rest faded blue-gray, and its meaning simpler. It was a bit of a bitter joke, a nod to his war name ‘Red-Dog’. Apparently, his people would tattoo the symbol of their clan's name over the heart upon final initiations into manhood. Brakul never got the chance, given he’d left his brothers, wife, and child for foreign causes and a foreign lad, and as such had been thoroughly disowned. The dog was the only name he had left. Janeys knew of people who oh-so-creatively derided Brakul as ‘Haidamane’s dog’ and chinmachen based on this. These were, of course, absolute fucking morons. Anyone with half a brain and the barest observational skill would know the man was completely and utterly ganmachen, ox-faced by both temperament and birthsign. Hardy in nature, placid and quiet under most circumstances, stubborn to a fault, and dangerous when pressed.  It was Janeys who was born under the dog stars, though this he kept secret, implying himself to be his dear Faiza’s twin when asked. The two of them looked much alike after all, and were born just over a year apart. It took only this small, harmless exaggeration to claim her far more auspicious birthsign as his own, which was well worth the risks of dishonesty. Janeys had enough problems - and more than enough scathing epithets - without the addition of ‘bitch-faced’ to his good name, thank you very much.

Janeys' POV introducing Brakul Red-Dog, himself, and (loosely) the Wardi zodiac system

[kiwibongos]

danganronpa DISCO STYLE

ive seen people put mouthwashing and persona over disco elysium portraits so now its my turn to get nerdy with it

finished it the other week and holy shit what a game. cant stop thinking of those silly old detectives. my favs are cuno, cindy, and those church lads as well. theyre found family. the art style was kinda tough to grasp but it was super fun to do! i locked the fuck in on sonia

also symbolism description:

the scratchy/smudged background behind hajime symbolizes his fragmented mind as izuru, along with his generally stressed state within the killing game, but the bright halo behind his head symbolizes determination and levelheadedness to match his serious expression, along with a light on the right side combatting the shade on the opposite end, representing hope versus despair.

fuyuhiko's portrait is murky and stained with what resembles blood, along with an ominous shadow to represent his general brooding and rude attitude, but the bright light behind him symbolizes change and the hidden kindness and bravery inside of him that he grows to find.

sonia's portrait is soft and pale, akin to her personality; the blue smudges represent serenity, the yellow & white smudges represent loyalty and kindness, while the red panel sticks out the most to symbolize authority & strength above all else, to reflect not just her duties as a princess but her bold and bright personality.

akane's portrait is dusty/gloomy to symbolize her traumatic childhood along with the black rectangle to match it, but the blood-red tendrils also symbolize her brutal strength to spite that fact. along with that, she is not entirely casted in a dark shadow but a more neutral light, with brighter highlights to represent her high spirits, dominance and confidence on top of it. plus, she's still smiling! which may be because of total obliviousness and denial, or just because she's that positive lol

kazuichi's portrait holds his signature colors (magenta+yellow) but is smudged with what resembles oil melting over his body, and despite the fact that he's smiling, his expression is awkward and forced, his eyebrows permanently furrowed, lacking any confidence to show that he's clearly breaking. these factors represent his cowardly personality, how easily his composure cracks under any kind of pressure, even though he always tries to play it off cool.

and yes i did take inspiration from harry du bois on that one. the ... expression ...

[dykesbat]

[ID: A digital drawing of Rose Wilson (Ravager) from DC Comics. She looks upward with an angry grimace on her face. Her skin is brown and her hair is long and wavy. Her face is round and her eyes are brown. A white eyepatch covers her right eye. Her face and neck have a few scars. The scar on her neck stretches horizontally. The drawing is on a rough blue rectangle. Next to the drawing is the reference, showing a panel of Rose looking upwards and angry as she says, “So who built this one? Did the Titans not tell us?” In the reference panel, Rose is pale with blue eyes. Her hair is straight. End ID.]

yayy version without eyepatch under cut

[ID: The same image from above. This time, without the eyepatch. End ID.]

[neopronouns]

flag id: four flags in the same format. they each have a stripe across the top edge and a stripe of the same size in the center of the flag, forming a capital t. stripes of the same width outline the sides of the vertical stripe and underside of the top stripe, leaving rectangles at the bottom left and bottom right of the flags.

the top left flag’s ’t’ is dull indigo, the outlining stripes are pale purple, and the bottom corners are white. the top right flag’s ’t’ is blue-black, the outlining stripes are dark silver, and the bottom corners are pale blue. the bottom left flag’s ’t’ is purple-black, the outlining stripes are dark faded purple, and the bottom corners are faded blue. the bottom right flag’s ’t’ is very dark dull indigo, the outlining stripes are dark indigo, and the bottom corners are pink. end id.

banner id: a 1500x150 teal banner with the words ‘please read my dni before interacting’ in large white text in the center. end id.

thex | tomen tchori | tkenore

anon asked for a thex flag in the same format as my tboy/tgirl and tmasc/tfem flags and i figured i'd also make tomen, tchori, and tkenore flags! these are based on @floretspell's chori/hex/omen/kenore flags.

tags: @radiomogai, @dragonpride17 | dni link

[catboy-autism]

♡♡ Catmaxxed ♡♡

A gender in the gendermaxxed system for when your gender is catpilled and catmaxxed; you are catmaxxing.

Although the flag uses the catgender flag colors, you do not have to be catgender to use it

♡♡ Lovemaxxed ♡♡

A gender under the gendermaxxed system for when your gender is lovepilled and lovemaxxed; you are lovemaxxing.

[ID 1: A 7-striped flag. From top to bottom the colors are pink, sky blue, purple, lavender, purple, sky blue, and pink. In the center is a dark purple 5-pointed star. ID End]

[ID 2: A 7-striped flag. From top to bottom the colors are coral pink, pink, orangeish-yellow, pale yellow, orangeish-yellow, pink, and coral pink. In the middle of the flag is a red 5-pointed star with a pale yellow heart in its center. ID End]

[ID 3: A thin brown line, in the center of it is an orange tabby maine coon mix laying down, staring to the side of the viewer. ID End]

[ID 4: A rectangular banner. The border of it has a gradient of orange to pink. In each corner are 3 strawberries and 4 strawberry flowers. Within the border is a light tan rectangle with text. From top to bottom the different blocks of text read, in all caps: "Do not involve my flags or labels in discourse", this is colored red and underlined; "Anyone can use my flags and labels", this is also red; "But I do block freely", this is colored pink. There is a line of small cartoonish strawberries, each separated by little leaves. On the center bottom is a pink to orange gradient rounded rectangle. Within it is a red text in all caps that reads "This blog loves mspec gays and lesbians". On the left of the rectangle is the mspec lesbian flag and on the right is the mspec gay flag. On the left and right of the main rectangle are drawings of calico cats stretching. There are muddy paw prints scattered across the banner. ID End]

[honeysuckletoast]

Here's a brief description of everyone in the academy loop with Alma peregrine when she was a teen. This is how I imagine they look in my Academy fic.

Esmerelda Avocet 

Bird: pied Avocet

Age: late 40’s 

Nicknames:  Esme (most of the Ymbrynes who are older than her and Miss Bunting.) 

Nationality:  English, French 

 Eye color:  smooth vanilla toffee brown with gold flecks. 

Hair color: silvering black (earning her gray hair from jack) 

Hair type: wavy

Hair length:   mid back 

Build: bigger boned but lean. Agile 

Body shape:  hourglass figure. 

Weight: 138.5 pounds. 

Height:   5’7 

Skin color: ivory 

Distinguishing marks: none

Glasses:  yes. gold framed ones that have been fixed in the center twice. 

Scars:  has a bad shoulder scar that not even Miss Bunting knows where she got it. She won't tell anyone. 

Common colors worn:  black, gray, white, dusty rose occasionally. 

Daily outfit: shift, a stay (prefers this to a corset) petticoat underlayer, a black simple skirt with a white  lacy collared slightly puffed long sleeve shirt. Or a dusty pink wrap dress on Sundays. Black  boots with grey stockings,  and a  black cloak when she leaves the loop. Prefers simple clothing. Has a ring on a chain and wears it as a necklace under her clothing. No one knows where she got it or what it's for, not even miss bunting.

Amelia Bunting 

Bird: painted bunting

Age: mid 40’s 

Nicknames:  Lia (miss Avocet) 

Nationality: African American 

 Eye color: spring leaf green 

Hair color: shiny black

Hair type: kinky curls 

Hair length:  when braided would be about mid back. 

Build:  feisty string bean.

Body shape:  rectangle. 

Weight: 112.4 pounds 

Height:   5’3

Skin color: warm brown 

Distinguishing marks:  none

Glasses:  none 

Scars:  has an odd twisted scar on her ankle from walking into a tripwire/ fishing line as a teenager. Few scars from fights with townspeople.

Common colors worn: green, brown, white, mostly brighter colors.

Daily outfit: shift, a stay, petticoat underlayer,  light green and white blouse, a long light green skirt that has flowers of all different sizes embroidered on it. When teaching embroidery and sewing she has each girl embroider a flower onto her skirt as a test, and so her skirt is covered in them from each girl who came and gone through training. Brown boots but prefers going barefoot. Yellow stockings. Her hair in a bun with a green flower  pin 

Other: 

Roisin Gannet

Bird: Northern Gannet

Age: 17 years old. 

Nationality:  Irish 

Eye color: Pale cornflower blue 

Hair color: red 

Hair type: very kinky curly 

Hair length:  to her butt. 

Build: strong build. Very muscular 

Body shape:  hourglass figure 

Weight: 210 pounds 

Height: 6’4

Skin color: very pale white. 

Distinguishing marks:  Freckles, all over her body. Stretch marks.

Glasses: occasionally has used them after long sessions diving (gannets dive head first at ridiculous speeds, trauma to your eyes is snazzy) 

Scars:  has quite a few scars from her brawls, most under her clothing 

Common colors worn: green, blue, browns, greys and creams

Daily outfit: cream colored blue with either a dark green or pale blue skirt.  Corset and shift, Stockings  Black lace up boots and a clover brass pin for her hair to be pulled back.

Other:  has a  baby face, despises it. On the heavier side. 

Enid Finch 

Bird: American Goldfinch

Age: 17 

Nicknames: honeybun (her aunt) 

Nationality: American, English 

 Eye color:  moonlight blue 

Hair color:  light honey blonde. 

Hair type: slightly wavy 

Hair length:  mid back

Build: proportionate build, shaped like a agile dancer. 

Body shape:  triangle 

Weight: 140 pounds 

Height:  5’7

Skin color:   porcelain white skin. 

Distinguishing marks:  stretch marks on only her right thigh, that's it. 

Glasses:  none. 

Scars:  has scars from falling out of trees as a child. 

Common colors worn:  dark red, dark blue, dark green tan dark burgundy 

Daily outfit:  shift, corset and petticoat layer white long sleeve shirt with  red rose accents on the cuffed sleeves.  (Her aunt taught her how to embroider the roses.   Dark red skirt  with black boots with a slightly larger heel than usual for stability. A necklace with a rose on it (family last name is Rosee) from her aunt that also has her father and mothers wedding rings on them. Also had a metal hairpin to put her up into an upsweep

Other:  her aunt is very picky about buttons and looking clean, Enid carries the same  ideas. Her aunt wouldn't let her makeup, but occasionally wore  red lipstick, but stopped once Jack started rumors she was hooking up with random men in town. 

Myron Bentham 

Age:16.5 

Nicknames:  none

Nationality: English 

 Eye color: sandy brown 

Hair color: toffee brown.

Hair type: slightly curly. 

Hair length: Short and styled properly.

Build:  average looking teenager not really muscular that you can see but is a bit strong. 

Body shape:  rectangular. 

Weight: 165 pounds 

Height:   5’10

Skin color: also milky white. 

Distinguishing marks:  none 

Glasses:   has a pair of readers he only wears occasionally 

Scars:  a few from Jack that he doesn't care about, later down the line, one from Cathrine Glassbill he can't stand to look at. He keeps it wrapped up no matter what so he isn't reminded of her. 

Common colors worn: black, grey, white, burgundy

Daily outfit: dressy outfit, a white button up collared shirt always steamed and pressed out nicely. Black pants and a necktie occasionally. Sometimes wears a gray overcoat, mostly outside the loop.  Black leather boots and a brown satchel that he carries a lot of books in, mainly the ones he's reading and then one or two of Catherine's so they can read together in the afternoons. 

Other: 

Cathrine Glassbill

Bird: Barn swallow 

Age: 16 

Nicknames:  Cathy (everyone) Cat (Myron) 

Nationality: Austrian Hungarian

 Eye color:  dark oak brown

Hair color: dark dark brown, nearly black. 

Hair type:  straight 

Hair length:  surprisingly long. Down to her lower back if not braided 

Build:  muscular, mannish

Body shape: pear shape 

Weight: 145 pounds. 

Height:  5’9

Skin color: warm ivory 

Distinguishing marks:  none

Glasses:  none 

Scars:  hand scars from burning herself while cooking.

Common colors worn: dark red, brown, occasionally pink, dark green dark blue. 

Daily outfit: shift, sometimes a corset but prefers a stay to a corset. Light tan wrap dress with brown leaves. Typically has her dark red shawl on her and a brown apron. Dark brown horse riding boots. A necklace Myron gave her as a Christmas gift that has a cat pennant  he made himself (and was very proud of)  hair always braided in one or two braids. 

Other:  mannish looking and flat faced.  Always has her hair in braids, one day she decided to wear it down and everyone thought she was sick or hurt  and couldn't do her hair sense she had never left it down ever. She  never really unbraided it again in fear of causing chaos. 

Jack has taunted her about being so stoic and mannish, but she just kinda stares, nods, and goes back to whatever she's doing. Miss Avocet is still trying to get her to teach Roisin  this strategy.  

Eleanor- Grace Nightjar 

Bird great eared Nightjar (yes, the little dragon looking Nightjar)

Age: 15

Nicknames:  grace (she prefers  her middle name grace over her first name Eleanor.)   Leni (Millie, short for her first name, because when learned grace wasn't her first name she was fascinated. 

Nationality: Scottish, English, French. 

Eye color: pale gray, look blue when you first look at them though. Don't worry, while she's talking to you she will stare into your soul through your eyes unnervingly and you can see the gray hue.

Hair color: dark silvery black 

Hair type: wavy.

Hair length:  to her butt. 

Build: slightly stronger, but thin build 

Body shape: hourglass, leaning more towards pear. 

Weight: 102 pounds. 

Height:  5’6

Skin color: unnaturally pale. Like a sickly pale color

Distinguishing marks: very few freckles. 

Glasses:  needs them, won't wear them. 

Scars:  has multiple scars from picking, has a really bad habit of picking her scabs when she gets nervous. 

Common colors worn: dark grey, black,  dusty dark purple, burgundy occasionally. 

Daily outfit: shift, corset, her petticoat underlayer, dusty violet wrap dress. Black lace up boots  and her security cloak that's dark gray.  A flower hairpin Millie gave her, and a silver necklace from her late brother.  Wears her hair in a tight bun with two pieces framing her face. 

Other:  she sees better in the darkness. At night she's agile  and graceful, in the daylight she's clumsy. Miss Avocet is still trying to find suitable sunglasses for her. 

Jack/Caul 

Bird: Peregrine Falcon 

Age:15

Nicknames:  would probably smack you upside the head for giving him one.    Prick- (Roisin Gannet) 

Nationality: english

 Eye color:  coffee brown 

Hair color: shiny black

Hair type: wavy, fluffy

Hair length:  kept nearly trimmed and styled. 

Build:  pretty lanky, average guy 

Body shape: rectangle. 

Weight: 96 pounds (female pergeines are normally always bigger than male peregrines. This irritates jack to no end as he fears she will be taller than him.)

Height:  5’5 

Skin color: milky white 

Distinguishing marks: slightly crooked nose.

Glasses:  yes, they are gold framed and as he describes them “more elegant than you will all ever be”

Scars:  has multiple scars from him and Roe fighting, and a few from fighting with hawks. Buddy gets a sick kick out for starting fights with nesting hawks and falcons outside the loop. 

Common colors worn:  browns, white, occasionally red. 

Daily outfit: brown trousers with a tan button up shirt. Brown boots and cotton (have to be cotton) socks.  Occasionally a waistcoat that matches his trousers. His hair is styled into a backwards sweep, but never stays down and becomes wavy/fluffier by the end of the day. Usually wears his glasses. He also would never admit it, but kept and still wears a tiny brass pocket watch Alma brought him when she was really young. She stole it from her father when they were thrown out, and even if he depsies her, he keeps it as a reminder of what he deemed “the long gone days when life was still alright.” 

Other: 

Millicent Thrush

Bird: Song thrush 

Age: 14

Nicknames: Millie (everyone) Soleil (Grace) 

Nationality: Dutch, french. Bit of English mixed in 

Eye color: mocha brown 

Hair color: sunflower blonde 

Hair type: loose waves/curls 

Hair length:  mid back. 

Build:  slim, mousy 

Body shape: rectangle 

Weight: 117.5 pounds 

Height: 5’4 and half, that's very important to her that you don't forget the half. 

Skin color: ivory colored skin 

Distinguishing marks: n/a Literally perfect skin, never gets acne and no scars. 

Glasses: n/a

Scars: small burn scar on her forearm from bumping into the wood burning stove. 

Common colors worn: light pastel pink, yellows, sky blues 

Daily outfit: shift, corset,  petticoat underlayer, light  light yellow floral dotted skirt and a white blouse.  Brown short boots and thin stockings. Doesn't like jewelry, but wears a  really simple necklace Grace got her. Her hair is normally tied into a loose low ponytail.

Other: her teeth are slightly crooked but she doesn't care. Her smile is still contagious. Grace calls her Soleil occasionally since it means sunshine in French and Millie is french. 

Alice Treecreeper 

Bird Eurasian Treecreeper 

Age: 13 

Nicknames: won't respond to them 

Nationality: English 

Eye color: amber brown 

Hair color:  carmel brown 

Hair type: straight 

Hair length: just past her shoulder blades. 

Build: thin like a string bean 

Body shape: triangular. 

Weight:  97 pounds. 

Height: 5’2 

Skin color: light sandy color, very slight tan. 

Distinguishing marks:  small bridge of freckles on her nose. Occasional acne that irritates her. 

Glasses:  yes. Can't see in the distance without them. They are golden framed. 

Scars:  only a few acne scars on her face. and a birthmark on her hip bone, just a dark brown patch 

Common colors worn:  light brown and cream. Dark orange/ rust. 

Daily outfit:  shift corset, (no petticoat to fluff her skirt up) long rust colored wrap dress with brown accents. Always has her bag with her journal and the book she's studying (typically medical knowledge and enjoys romance novels but wouldn't ever tell anyone that)  brown loafers  and thigh high brown stockings. Typically always has her brown cloak while leaving the loop. Wears her hair simply down or in a low bun. 

Other: very introverted, but can and does enjoy her sisters. Better listener.   Wants  to be a doctor. 

Isabelle cuckoo 

Bird Common cuckoo

Age: 12.5

Nicknames: belle  (everyone) isa (Alma) Izzy (Alma rarely) 

Nationality: french 

 Eye color: warm brown 

Hair color: dark brown (she dyed it silver later) 

Hair type: she burns it straight, she loves the look of it straight 

Hair length:  nearly trimmed at her shoulders. 

Build:  lanky 

Body shape:  triangle. 

Weight: 116.5 pounds. 

Height:   5’6

Skin color:  cool brown 

Distinguishing marks:  has a birthmark on her ankle, looks like a lopsided heart 

Glasses: none but in the future she will be rocking sunglasses. 

Scars: none. Her mother chastised her early on for picking and making scars so she consciously avoids it now. 

Common colors worn: she wears every color of the rainbow, but mainly she loves  blues and purples, indigo being her favorite shade. Reds,  greens, anything but brown. She doesn't like the lack of life in brown. 

Daily outfit: shift, corset, an extra fluffy petticoat, dark red skirt with a silky creamy tan colored top that has red accents. Brown lace up boots with a sizeable heel and her hair either braided or pulled into a bun. She occasionally wears it down. Red stockings and a silver feather pendant necklace Alma gave her for her birthday. 

Other: 

Alma Lefay peregrine 

Bird: Peregrine Falcon. 

Age: 12 

Nicknames:  Al (everyone) 

Nationality: English

 Eye color:  forest dark green 

Hair color:  raven black

Hair type:  wavy 

Hair length:  butt length 

Build:  petite tiny little thing 

Body shape: hourglass 

Weight: 105 pounds 

Height:   5’1

Skin color:  pale porcelain 

Distinguishing marks: freckles on her nose in the summertime, they fade during winter. 

Glasses: yes, silver framed ones Miss Avocet gave her. They used to be Miss Avocet when she was a child. Alma kept them in perfect shape until jack caught wind of where they came from and how important they were to Alma, and smashed them with a book in front of her. Miss Avocet got them repaired by a peculiar craftsman and was able to put new (better) lenses in them and gave them to Alma as a birthday gift. She cherishes them. 

Scars:  multiple scars from Jack and Myron's torment and scars from a fight she got into with another falcon when she got too close to her nest one day.  

Common colors worn:  blue (dark and light) red in the wintertime, blacks and creams 

Daily outfit: shift, a looser fitting corset (doesn't like the constriction)  petticoat underlayer, dark blue day skirt with a white or cream colored long sleeve shirt with a ruffle collar. Her silver glasses and her hair braided  into a bun with two pieces framing her face. A feather hairpin that Isabelle made with one of Alma's molted feathers for her. Long dark blue stockings and black boots with no heel.

[lavenderlemniscate]

finally. my webcomic ocs and one (1) self insert

each is based on a unique shape and color

[embodiedfutures]

ID by our volunteer Wren: all slides have a background of a pale green-yellow to light blue gradient. The first slide is titled "who are we?" in light blue text with a thin dark blue outline. The title follows the curve of a large white ring in the center of the slide, which circles BFP's logo. Inside the ring and below the logo, blue text reads "building a better future worldwide for youth. by youth." End ID.

ID: all slides except the first have a dashed-line white border around the slide. the second slide is titled "welcome!" in blue text on a white rectangle. the rest of the slide has blue text on a white background that reads, "hey! we're better future program (BFP)! founded in 2016 in bulbancha (so-called new orleans, louisiana, usa), we are an entirely youth-run registered nonprofit [globe emoji]

our mission is to globally expand peer-led political education, support, and imagination for marginalized youth!

we actually achieve this goal through offering 3,000+ free resources through our liberation library, providing 60+ youth with the leadership roles and tools to host their very own social justice teach-ins, 24/7 peer support through our discord server, mutual aid-based fundraising campaigns, and so much more to come! [speaking emoji].” in the bottom right corner, the number 1 is circled. End ID.

ID: the third slide is titled "guiding principles" in blue text on a white rectangle. the subtitle reads "what sort of values guide our work?" in blue text on a white rectangle. the rest of the slide has blue text on white backgrounds which reads, "[chick emojil youth-centricity [arrow] we understand youth as an oppressed class and thus we center the voices of youth in everything that we do!

[fist emoji] self-liberation [arrow] all volunteers should be at the forefront of their own liberation. allies are meant to uplift, not overstep

[window emoji] transparency [arrow] staying open and honest about all BFP-related actions and intentions

[check emoji] accountability [arrow] holding ourselves and our peers responsible, with an eye to fairness regarding capabilities and knowledge". in the bottom right corner, the number 2 is circled. End ID.

ID: the fourth slide is titled "guiding principles" in blue text on a white rectangle. the subtitle reads "just a few more! keep going!" in blue text on a white rectangle. the rest of the slide has blue text on white backgrounds which reads, "[equal sign emoji] horizontality [arrow] valuing the decision-making abilities of our volunteers and thus, fostering power alongside one another rather than over each other

[hug emoji] community [arrow] valuing the impact of a shared story, collaboration, and an effective, non-carceral support system

[woman emoji] intersectionality [arrow] recognizing how various aspects of a person's social and political identities combine to create different modes of discrimination and privilege". in the bottom right corner, the number 3 is circled. End ID.

ID: the fifth slide is titled "core beliefs" in blue text on a white rectangle. the subtitle reads "we wholeheartedly believe in and support:" in blue text on a white rectangle. the rest of the slide's text is a list, starting with red text at the top, with each list item changing to another colour of the rainbow until the list ends with red again.

The list reads: "the right to organize, youth liberation, religious liberty, climate action, gender equity, bodily autonomy, abolition, anti-authoritarianism, educational equity, anti-racism, disability justice, decolonization, queer/lgbtq+ liberation, fat liberation, caste abolition, anti capitalism.”

at the bottom of the slide, blue text on a white background reads "[magnifying glass emoji] betterfutureprogram.org/about-bfp". in the bottom right corner, the number 4 is circled. End ID.

ID: the sixth slide is titled "our structure" in blue text on a white rectangle. the rest of the slide has blue text on white backgrounds which reads, "BFP reinforces our principle of horizontality through committees! each committee forms its own interdependent goals and initiatives to fulfill which are discussed during international, weekly meetings via zoom [film camera emoji].

additionally, we use 'consensus-based decision making', in which every concern is acknowledged before moving forward

this horizontal structure also allows for more flexibility and adaptability in terms of our roles! this doesn't mean there aren't challenges, of course, but we think those challenges are worth the benefits! [green heart emoji]”. in the bottom right corner, the number 5 is circled. End ID.

ID: the seventh slide is titled "upcoming" in blue text on a white rectangle. the subtitle reads "what we've been working on lately [hand clapping emoji]" in blue text on a white rectangle. the rest of the slide has blue text on white backgrounds which reads, "we're in the process of starting global liberation schools, inspired by Paulo Freire's Pedagogy of the Oppressed, the Black Panther Party's Oakland Community School, and Huey P. Newton's theory of ractionary and revolutionary intercommunalism.

and we've already got 3 schools in the making! look out for BFP in washington, dcand new orleans, la in the united states as well as sydney, nsw in australia! [australian flag emoji]

if you're confused about any of those names/titles/theories above or want to start political education classes near you, join us (& bring a friend!) [smiling covering mouth emoji]". in the bottom right corner, the number 6 is circled. End ID.

the eighth slide is titled "getting involved" in blue text on a white rectangle. the slide has blue text on white backgrounds which reads, "1) BFP is always looking for new youth volunteers to uplift and empower. if you're 25 or younger, you may be eligible for a leadership position! application in our bio!

2) if you still want to get involved but with fewer responsibilities, we've also got a general volunteers committee just for you! same application, same bio [hand holding pencil emoji]

3) if you don't have the time or capacity? don't worry! we'll still be here. instead, you can interact with our international community via discord! we've got game nights, cultural presentations, study sessions, and more, so feel free to join us! ([link emoji] in bio. again. lol)". in the bottom right corner, the number 7 is circled. End ID.

ID: the ninth slide is titled "donate" in blue text on a white rectangle. the subtitle reads "feeling a lil generous? [looking eyes emoji]" in blue text on a white rectangle. the rest of the slide has blue text on white backgrounds which reads, "we're now accepting donations! your gift will go towards promotional and material resources for our teach-ins, supporting artists of color, our mutual aid network, and even creating paid internships in the future!"

below, blue text with a dark blue outline reads "scan the qr code.” it's beside a qr code.

below, blue text on a white background reads "EIN: 88-2043966.”

[magnifying glass emoji] betterfutureprogram.org/donate". in the bottom right corner, the number 8 is circled. End ID.

Welcome, welcome! We'd like to reintroduce ourselves, especially with such an exciting initiative on the way! BFP (@bfpnola) is starting GLOBAL liberation schools and we'd love your support. Get the word out! And if anyone ever asks, "Oh, what's BFP? What are they working on?," just send them this post! 🤍

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Photograph of Patti Smith by Rebecca Miller.

* * * *

Memory. Creativity. Links to the past.

From 𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝐾𝑖𝑑𝑠 by Patti Smith.

"When I was very young, my mother took me for walks in Humboldt Park, along the edge of the Prairie River. I have vague memories, like impressions on glass plates, of an old boathouse, a circular band shell, an arched stone bridge. The narrows of the river emptied into a wide lagoon and I saw upon its surface a singular miracle. A long curving neck rose from a dress of white plumage.

"𝑆𝑤𝑎𝑛, my mother said, sensing my excitement. It pattered the bright water, flapping its great wings, and lifted into the sky.

The word alone hardly attested to its magnificence nor conveyed the emotion it produced. The sight of it generated an urge I had no words for, a desire to speak of the swan, to say something of its whiteness, the explosive nature of its movement, and the slow beating of its wings.

The swan became one with the sky. I struggled to find words to describe my own sense of it. 𝑆𝑤𝑎𝑛, I repeated, not entirely satisfied, and I felt a twinge, a curious yearning, imperceptible to passersby, my mother, the trees, or the clouds."

And from 𝑀 𝑇𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛:

"We seek to stay present, even as the ghosts attempt to draw us away. Our father manning the loom of eternal return. Our mother wandering toward paradise, releasing the thread. In my way of thinking, anything is possible. Life is at the bottom of things and belief at the top, while the creative impulse, dwelling in the center, informs all. We imagine a house, a rectangle of hope. A room with a single bed with a pale coverlet, a few precious books, a stamp album. Walls papered in faded floral fall away and burst as a newborn meadow speckled with sun and a stream emptying into a greater stream where a small boat awaits with two glowing oars and one blue sail."

Ecco Press Alfred A. Knopf Vintage Books & Anchor Books The Marginalian

[bambiraptorx]

[I.D. A digital drawing of genderbent Draxum from ROTTMNT. She has curly shoulder length hair, part of it up in a small bun. Her hands rest on her hips, and she smiles. She is wearing a light blue tee shirt and 'mom jeans' that reach just below her knees. Faint scars are scattered across her arms and legs, the largest being ones that go around her ankles. Besides having thicker eyebrows and wearing pants, there is virtually no difference from the way that OP usually draws Draxum. The background is green, with pale green rectangles scattered behind Draxum. End I.D.]

Draxum gender bend where nothing changes except wearing pants lmao

Bonus under cut: a version with slight facial hair because I usually draw Draxum's mom with some and i think it's neat lol

[I.D. the same drawing as above, but Draxum has faint facial hair above her mouth and on the sides of her jawline. End I.D.]

[regicidal-defenestration]

I'VE GOT A LOT OF GUTS BUT ALL THEY DO IS SIT INSIDE ME AND TAKE UP SPACE CHURN AND ACHE

[ID: someone wearing a pale grey hoodie, shown from the front and back. On it has been sewn a variety of fabric organs in bright colours - pink lungs, an orange spleen, yellow liver, red stomach, purple kidneys, a blue colon, and a small intestine represented by pale green squiggles on a darker green rectangle. Over these are ribs and a spine in white. End ID]