Hello, Wildsong, your picturing is done! I...tried to be more descriptive, but this is how it eventually turned out. Sorry.

Thoughts on the picturing: There is a folktale where I live on how once upon a time, a skilled artist in a village drew an incredibly detailed dragon on a wall, but left the eyes blank. The other villagers insisted that he fill them in, but at the instant he did, the dragon came to life and jumped right off the wall and flew into the sky. So yes, that is how this picturing came to be.

The mural of the lion was vivid. I feared that it would be leaping out of the wall to pounce on me the very next instant. The only indication of it being stationary were its blank white eyes, devoid of pupils.

“Why not paint in the eyes?” I asked.

“Hmm?” The white T-shirt in the corner made a noise of inquiry. She was finishing the last details on the claw of an eagle. “Oh, that. A habit of mine.”

“Why though? Would the eyes ruin the picture?”

“In a sense, yes. But no. It depends on how you see it. I, personally, find that most people aren’t happy with the eyes painted in.” The artist said, rising to stretch her sore back. “That’s why I haven’t completely finished  a commission in a very long time.”

“When did you last finish one then? I’d love to see it.” I doubted how ‘long' was long for her. She seemed at most seventeen, with brown tanned skin and an energetic outlook. A black cap sat on her head, destined to be more decorative
than useful at the 45-degree angle it found itself.

“You won’t.” The girl said, shaking her head, sending her short wavy hair bobbing. “It was a dragon mural in a village  somewhere east of here. The locals insisted that I paint in the eyes.”

“And?”

I found myself staring into a pair of hazel eyes that seemed to look right into my head. The gaze she shot me felt as old as time itself. But the alien feeling lasted only for a second before she broke eye contact and shrugged. “Well, they don’t have a mural anymore. Or a wall, for that matter. But it was their
choice. Could you hold these for me for a bit? I’ve got to go grab my water bottle in the block nearby. I forgot it there.” She piled her palette and brushes into my hands. “I’ll be back in a moment.” She promised, darting down the street. Iwatched as her lithe figure turned a corner out of sight, then looked down at the brushes I was holding.

Well, they were only eyes. Anyone could fill them in.

Could you please specify your pronouns? I recall that you use they/them pronouns but I can't be sure until you verify, thanks. If you don't see this I'll go with using they/them...

I use any pronouns, but they/them would be okay.

Your picturing is finished, Cloud Bunny! I might have took a few liberties with it (once again, but that's how my mind works) and somewhat fashioned it into a sequel of Celine's picturing. I do hope it meets your expectations. 

Thoughts on the picturing: Bunnies are cute. Dwarf bunnies are even cuter (and also shyer). I'm sure no one will disagree with me on this, right? I cuddled one at a pet store once and it was so fluffy *cuteness overload*

-----Hey look, Zeal finally remembered to add a divider------ 

The ticking of the clock dominated The Hall of Exchange. Hundreds of pairs of eyes oriented their gaze upon its intricate golden face, waiting for the sign to begin the ceremony.

Somewhere at the very end of the red carpeted hall, a young child fidgeted nervously with the glimmering silver twig laid in their hands, one of many identical twigs that their elders were holding. They vaguely recalled that they had been just as nervous at the beginning of the year.

They were sure that they now had a film of sweat covering their forehead. One of their floppy ears had an itch but they dared not scratch it for fear of making an abrupt movement that would ruin the occasion. Instead they tried to focus on something else to forget the itch, but their mind ended up worrying about whether or not they could still remember how to braid someone’s hair without tying knots in it. The last thing that they would want to do would be to mess up the hair of their assigned family member, which would be a total
disaster. Their gaze flitted to the girl standing opposite from them, elegantly dressed in a flowing red robe and a pearl necklace. She had bright golden eyes and a confident grin. Their own faded white shirt and light blue overalls appeared much more modest in comparison, and they hurriedly tugged at a few creases in the cloth that had escaped their attention beforehand.

So enwrapped in their thoughts were they that they barely noticed the echoing donging of the clock. It was only when they looked up and saw that everyone else had taken a step forwards did they realize that they were behind. They quickly moved forwards to meet the girl who was patiently waiting for them with a smile of amusement. She knelt down silently and presented her loose blonde hair to them like all her other family members were doing.

They set to work on the tips of their toes, fluffy white tail twitching back and forth as they gathered her hair in their hands and began to wind it into a braid all while trying not to tug. It took a few minutes to finish, but they eventually completed their task and threaded the shining twig into the girl’s hair.

She looked back at them with a grin. “All done?”

They nodded back with large misty eyes, then finally remembered what to say after a few seconds of awkward silence. “W-We’ll be counting on you for this year. I’m sure you’ll do a great job.”

“Thank you.” The girl rose and ruffled their hair while trying to keep a respectful social distance, though their height made it hard not to seem like she was looming over them. They were so short that even bending down to their height wasn’t  enough to completely bring one to their altitude. “You’ve done
great already.”

“Really?” They asked, ears perking up in eagerness, eyes widening. Their nearly unbelieving tone made the girl laugh.

“Of course. Goodness sake, if you get any cuter than you are already I’d probably cuddle you to death if it isn’t for everyone around here.”

They nodded, not entirely understanding but still happy that they were praised. “T-Thanks.” Then, in a quiet voice, “You could hug me if you want.”

It was the girl’s turn to be unbelieving. “Really?”

“Y-“ They paused, then figuring that this would be the best chance of a cuddle from a member of another family they  would be getting in twelve years, mustered up their courage. “Yes!”

Your picturing is done, Pangolin! That leaves only Gloomy's to finish and I can retire this thread. It turned out to be rather long and strangely themed, but I hope you like it nontheless.

Thoughts on the picturing: I find it fun to imagine that there are strange factors influencing all those strange occurences and unsolved mysteries in the world. I also might have recently reread Good Omens.

---Hey look, Zeal remembered to add a divider again!------

If one wants to tell other travelers that one has visited a certain place, the common way would be to write one’s name on a flat surface nearby. However, ink dries easily and does not tend to last for a long time period. A better idea would be a stone engraving, traditionally made with a hammer and chisel. Unfortunately, the method takes up time and energy and often does not yield satisfactory results, especially if one is an amateur at engraving.

The girl was an amateur. But that did not necessarily mean that she could not leave a passable engraving on the rock face beside the waterfall. One perk about being an immortal is that technology improves, as long as one is patient enough to wait.

The sound of thundering water, though loud, did little to mask the rat-tat-tat-ing of heavy machinery. The stork scrutinized the girl in the blue skirt, the heavy pneumatic drill she was trying to keep under control, and finally the engraving on the large stone that proclaimed “Pangolin and Foggy visited here” in near perfect sans serif. All this was done with a skeptical eye. It seemed to be asking, If you could wait for people to
invent power tools, why couldn’t you learn to use a chisel in the meantime?

The girl did not notice the stork’s expression. She was  occupied with finishing the last curve of the ‘e’. The drill was vibrating to such an extent that she felt that she must be shaking along with every extension the drill bit made. The tassels of her skirt were trembling all over like an octopus with a seizure that was for sure, and her silky brown hair had shaken itself out from behind her ears before she had even finished the first word. Occasionally a few shards of rock would chip off and go whizzing a short way through the air in a fashion that would have made heads that were well associated with power tools shake in exasperation.

At the very least, it made Foggy the stork shake his head. He liked a slow life better. Just as there was no point in hurrying one’s destination as quickly as possible if one was going to arrive there sooner or later, one also had no need to use pneumatic drills to carve out an engraving if the task could
be done just as well with a chisel and hammer, though a bit of patience would be needed.

The rattling of the drill stopped abruptly. The girl took a step back from the stone face to admire her handiwork. “Now this is what I call efficiency, Foggy.” She had one of those grins that she wore when she was very satisfied with herself. Indeed she was. The twenty-first century was much more amusing than the twentieth and miles ahead of the nineteenth in her opinion, and it was the curious things that people were doing that made everything new and exciting.

Foggy could not comprehend the girl’s satisfaction at finishing a job that would have taken days in a matter of minutes. Why do you need efficiency if we have all the time in the world?

“Because…” The girl shrugged, heaving the drill back into the basket hanging from Foggy’s neck. “Well, I guess you have a point there. But power tools are fun.”

Power tools are not supposed to be used in a national wildlife park. Imagine what would happen if park rangers came upon a lone young girl in a blue designer dress who was occupied with drilling rocks. What would you have to say for yourself? And me, what would I do? You don’t see storks in this part of the world.

The girl pulled back her head to look Foggy straight in the eye. “How you manage to fret about everything that might go wrong when we’ve been doing things like this for millennia is beyond me. Nothing goes wrong, in case you haven’t noticed. Like when we made all those pretty patterns in those  cornfields. Or when we gave that guy who jumped out of an airplane in the middle of the night a free ride. I still have no idea why he had all that money with him but it was still fun to have someone to chat to.”

That was all you. Not we. I only watched. And do you realize that that person was a hijacker and we actually assisted in
his escape? They’re still searching for him after all these years, I heard.

“Hmm.” The girl hummed in a tone that showed she didn’t really care. She was busy cleaning her dress of powdered rock and dust. “They probably aren’t looking in the right places then.” Garb restored to presentable state, she leapt onto Foggy’s back. “We should be going now. I still want to be in time to see that eclipse.”

That’s still a while away.

“Well then we can visit the north pole in the meantime. And remember to fly above the clouds. I’d rather not have another photo of us circulating on the internet.”

Ah. So someone is conscious of their publicity

after all. What a surprise. 

The girl poked the stork in the shoulder blades. “Enough of that, let’s go. You can save your irony for the trip.” 

Just in case you didn't catch the @ in time...

Gloomy! Your picturing is done. I should have posted it yesterday but I had a recital for my school's drama festival, so sorry for the delay! 

Thoughts on the picturing: It's official. I am in love with mountains and sentinent artificial intelligence. Also, pilots in this world fly fighter jets lying on their stomachs because the invention of the ion drive made jets too fast to be piloted while sitting (the G-forces were too powerful).

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It was a wonderful sunset that day. The sun was as red as a dripping beetroot, the clouds were aflame. Lying on their stomach, the young pilot could easily see the lights of the city begin to light up bit by bit, thousands of blinking eyes lacing themselves into golden chains. No sounds were audible apart from the comforting hum of the ion drive sending a fine mist of electric particles into the air.

In front of them, the central control panel beeped gently. “Gloomy, confirm your wakefulness.” It said.

“I’m fine.” They said in an annoyed tone, dislodging one of their arms from under their head to tap the big red button that had popped onto the screen to indicate that they weren’t asleep. “You don’t have to check in every five minutes, honestly. I don’t sleep in the air.”

“Privately approved and legally denied, Gloomy.” The Autopilot replied, replacing the wakefulness button with its more  preferred appearance, a bobbing blue sphere. “I’m sure if  you’d have fallen asleep you’d have the foresight to push the controls out of your reach beforehand, but regulations are
regulations. You do seem more irritated than usual though.”

They kicked their legs in irritation, taking care not to bump into any of the controls in range of their feet. “Am not.”

“Yes you are, don’t try to fool me.” The Autopilot said, turning down the brightness of the screen. “Observe for yourself.”

They were left staring at their reflection in the black glass for a few moments. The fringes of their dyed dark hair cast shadows on their face but did little to mask the rings beneath their eyes. Their pupils which had a reddish tinge to them, but the screen made it hard to discern whether they were  bloodshot or just naturally so. They self-consciously adjusted the collar of the drab gray shirt that served as a substitute to their uniform.

The Autopilot, deciding that enough time had passed, returned to the screen. “That’s quite enough proof.”

“I always look like that.” They said before it could continue. The statement was not entirely false.

“The authenticity of your statement, though convincing, is not entirely true.” The Autopilot stated, finishing the other half of their thoughts for them. “You’ve barely ever moved since we left the airport.”

They tugged at their hair in irritation. “You don’t have a body. I don’t think you can understand the fact that humans can’t really move when they’re lying on their stomach.”

“What I can comprehend is that you have yet to request a free roam today. Since when were you so content at leaving your daily rounds for me to complete?”

They averted their eyes from the screen. Then, glumly, “I don’t think I should be requesting for that when my training is still being suspended.”

The Autopilot huffed, turning into an indignant blue face. “Because you attempted a Finsternis maneuver to dodge that rouge Fox-1? And succeeded?”

“I was panicking and being stupid pulling something that I had only read about last week, when all I’d needed to do was jam its tracker. I could have died if I had passed out or if the plane’s structure wasn’t strong enough to cope.”

“Yet you didn’t. That is proof enough that you should continue advanced training.” The Autopilot gathered itself back into a sphere and began bobbing aggressively to the left and right. They had the impression that it was pacing to and fro angrily.
“Why am I the only one who sees the significance of this? Do you know how that maneuver got its name?” Hearing no response, it continued. “The German word for darkness. It’s a prohibited maneuver because too many pilots were lost trying
to do it. Blacked out instantly. My memory doesn’t even have a record of a successful one. But you, you managed it. And with no practice beforehand. Why your performance isn’t catching Command’s attention is beyond me.”

The pilot raised an eyebrow and poked the screen, this time
good-naturedly. “Looks like I’m not the only one irritated today. You sound like you've been holding that in for a long time.”

The Autopilot exhaled. “I confirm your observation.” It admitted. 

“So we’re even.”

“How about a compromise then? This one’s on me.”

They perked up as a notification popped up before them.

System update: Clearance level temporarily
elected to D. Time remaining before reset: 29:59 minutes.

“Gloomy, you are now cleared to break from your patrol route.” The Autopilot announced. “Disengaging Autopilot, and do enjoy your flight.”

The screen lifted up, the blue sphere vanishing. They grabbed the controls that slid out from beneath eagerly. The feel of the buttons felt good beneath their black flying gloves. Their thumb found a familiar lever and pressed down. In an instant, the cockpit vanished along with the entire plane as the ESP* activated. The horizons in front of them seemed to expand endlessly into the orange distance.

They smiled, their whole face, normally blank and expressionless, lit up with a glow that only came from doing something that they loved. They pushed the control stick forwards.

The plane lurched and accelerated in a blur of black and blue, soon becoming a speck in the skies. 

*:ESP, short for Enchanced Surrounding Projection, a in-flight system that scans the aircraft's surroundings and then projects them into the cockpit, thus eliminating blind angles caused by the aircraft fuselage and increasing situational awareness.

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And that puts an conclusion to this thread! I had a lot of fun with writing all of these picturings. Thank you all, once again, for the massive support and sincere compliments, I love you all <3 

(I'll still leave this thread open though. If anyone submits a form after this, I'll follow up with a picturing as soon as possible, but I won't be as prompt because my next plan is to start a half-interactive solo write! Plotting is in progress...stay tuned!)