#feathertips

[takami-takami]

cw: this is an age regression drabble. caregiver!keigo. keep all additions and tags strictly sfw.

Keigo spent a majority of his life protecting people from a distance. 

He would, of course, always follow that twitch in his feathertips when they told him someone needed safety or comfort nearby. The act of protecting is one that scratches that intrinsic, unquenchable itch baked deep into his feathers and the fibers of his bone marrow beneath; but protection never quite felt tangible to him.

He always thought saving people meant giving yourself until you're empty and then turning heel to take flight. It meant making efficient use of your time, answering every "thank you, Hawks!" with a wink and a gust of his wings to speed away and save the next.

It meant never slowing down or seeing the fruits of your labor.

As a hero, Keigo's actions never felt solid in his hands— so he simply decided he felt that way because he wasn't trying hard enough; that he needed to clock longer hours and more frequent, grueling shifts.

But as a man, protecting you felt so much different from all that.

Keeping you safe is a slow, methodical process. It's a neverending pet project built with loving purpose and steady hands, armed with rolled up sleeves over the bicep and fuzzy teddy bears as his deadly arsenal.

Keigo has always been finely attuned to your little quirks, mannerisms, and subtle displays; so when your eyes go just the slightest bit fuzzy, fingertips wringing a frenzy against your bedsheets while you mumble in the cutest, clipped speech, he knows exactly what to do.

He can coax the tension out of your shoulders with his words alone. 

"You feeling small, baby?" He asks, voice barely above a whisper. Those golden eyes of his gently flick back and forth between yours when he sits, assessing your form curled in on itself against the headboard of your bed. 

And your shoulders droop instantly, nodding once. You gnaw at a chewed up cuticle. 

"Oh, baby, it's okay. S'okay, c'mere," Keigo whispers, arms open with grabby hands for you to crawl and nestle into his warmth. "Shhh, it's alright, little birdie. You can be small tonight. That okay? Wanna be small for me?" 

The thick of his warm palm cradles the back of your skull and you nod like he just offered you a lifeline. The barrel of his chest rises and falls with even breaths, sinking you further as you smush your cheek into the side of his neck with your eyes shut.

He smells nice. You sink even deeper.

Keigo sits cross legged on the bed and leans just the slightest bit back when you sink into him. Like this, he reminds you of an aged, sturdy tree; firm and unyielding with the slightest give, but always consistent and firmly rooted. 

Safe. Warm and safe. 

Always safe.

"Mm," you hum, feeling a bit fuzzier now. 

"Yeah?" Keigo answers. He pulls back to get a good look at you, and you see him smiling ear to ear as if that little sound you just gave was a whole speech. "Get comfy, cause I'm gonna spoil you tonight."

And spoil you he does. 

The next thing you know, Keigo has you sitting cross legged in front of him on the bed, ready to make a few last big decisions.

"Okay!" He chirps, placing two open palms in front of you for you to look at. "We're gonna pick, okay?" His rich voice guides you along gently, smoothly. "Just two, I prommy." 

You nod fervently at the reassurance, nearly straining your poor little neck with the motion. 

You have to think— which is scary— but it's only two times. You can do that. 

"Perfect, dove," Keigo praises as if he just read your mind.

The first question is easy. 

"Blanket fort," he says, clenching his left fist closed and open for emphasis. "Or bed?" He closes and opens the right.

If you were a smidge more lucid, you'd feel a twinge of remorse for how hard you slam down on his left palm.

"Sorry, 'Kei," you droop.

"Awww," Keigo coos genuinely. "You think you hurt me… That's so cute, dove! Yeah, you're a strong one, aint'cha?"

And just like that, you're smiling proud once  more. Keigo's heart soars at a job well done.

"One more and you're finished, little bird," he says seriously, like he's presenting you with a quest; and you nod your head with a furrowed brow to accept the challenge, a hero ready to conquer.

"Movie," he says, clenching one palm. "Or storytime?" He clenches the other.

Maybe you weren't quite as ready as you thought.

Tears begin to pinprick at the corners of your eyes. You fight back little hitched sniffles and sobs as you stand in the face of the mountain before you, trying to be brave.

"I… U-Uhm," you hiccup and stutter at the idea of thinking any more than you have to. 

Keigo considers stepping in. His feathers ruffle from the base to the edges of his wingspan, spine stiffening at the sight of you in distress. The itch begins to burn once more and—

You slowly place both palms face down in his, lip wobbling when you look at him. 

"Both?" He asks and your heart swells with gratitude that he picked up on your meaning— of course he would, you beam. Keigo's so smart.

You nod once.

"Both it is, sweetheart!" 

All other decisions from that point onward are made by Keigo himself.

Keigo decides to stand, hushing your blubbers with a kiss to your crown and a teddy placed in your hands to keep you company while he sets the scene.

Keigo decides on the color theme for tonight's blanket fort (baby blue), putting to good use his avian instincts of nest building when he selects the finest comforters and pillows to fluff and stack.

Keigo decides to hand you your fuzziest jammies and softest blankies while his feathers zip off to fetch your favorite mug carrying something hot for you to sip.

Keigo decides on the movie— something animated and lighthearted, a familiar favorite of yours. He suppresses a smile that twitches at the corners, thinking about how excited you're gonna get once you see. You'll squeak "that's my favorite!" like you don't say that every time, and he'll reply once again, "no way, mine too!" 

Keigo decides he selfishly gets more out of this than you do; but at the same time, unbeknownst to him, you decide the exact same thing.

[shimbongulus]

Thorns and Stars

(Warning! There are spoilers for Undertale Yellow's pacifist ending up ahead! Don't read if you haven't played it! Or do. I'm not your dad.)

The sun fractalized through the branches of trees in the park, making Martlet squint a bit as she relaxed on a wooden bench. 

The days since freedom came had been absolutely wonderful. Sunlight for the first time in most monsters’ lives, a decent peace with humanity, and a chance for a new start in a world they got to explore all anew.

Martlet had been doing her fair share of exploring around Ebbott, at least, but she wasn’t as young as she used to be. Her brief morning flight was evidence of that as she nursed a mildly aching wing, her fingertips massaging sore muscles and brushing over feathertips that frayed with age. 

She rued how unruly her down had gotten as she aged, but she reminded herself that was a sign of age - she got to see her down get all unruly, and feel her muscles lose the endurance they once had. It meant she had made it far enough to see the sun, that fabulous burning yellow disc that Monsterkind had dreamed of for so long.

But at the moment her wings weren’t the only things aching.

For the past decade and then some, she had been coping with the loss of a friend who had been in her life briefly but brilliantly. Starlo, Dalv and Ceroba had been excellent companions in the process of mourning and grief, and she had managed to grow around it, but it still bristled its thorns from time to time. 

Was there a world where they got to age with her? Was there a world where they came at this point in time? Perhaps.

Suddenly, a childlike voice echoed from Martlet’s right. “Is your wing alright?” She turned to look, and immediately recognized the figure of Frisk Dreemurr, the human name that every monster knew and would know for centuries to come.

“Oh, just fine. Things start to ache as  you get old. It’s whatever.” There was something incredibly familiar about Frisk’s presence and energy, something that seemed to summon the sweetness of the rose that dwelt somewhere within the thorns of grief.

“Say… you’re Frisk, huh?” They gave a nod, “Yup. What’s your name?”

“Martlet. I’m originally from Snowdin, but I’m currently staying in an apartment in New Waterfall.” 

Frisk gave that smile that caused the rose of grief to give its fragrance in Martlet’s soul even stronger as they extended a hand and shook with a firmness that shook her to her foundations. “Nice to meet ya, Martlet.” Suddenly, their face drew sympathetic. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I say something?” 

“W-Wha?” Small flecks of wetness on the periphery of her vision grew to Martlet’s awareness. “O-Oh, uh, it’s.. It’s not you. You just…”

She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself as she spoke the sentence, “You remind me of an old friend of mine. In a really good way.” She brushed some of the tears away, but a few miniscule replacements came behind them. Martlet tried her best to repress the sadness and lean into the bittersweetness that welled up from within her. 

Frisk pulled to a seat beside them, adjusting their blue-and-purple-striped jacket to keep the untimely spring cool out. “Who were they, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

For a moment, Martlet found it hard to summon words. What words could describe that brilliant, bright little candle that had come into their life for that moment those years ago? Friend? Compatriot? Companion? 

“Clover. Their name was Clover,” was all that she could manage for a moment, her blue bowlcut shifting in a slight breeze as a few tears flecked from her chin to her lap. 

Her voice shook slightly as she spoke, “T-They were a human, the last one to come before you. I h-helped them through Snowdin and to the Dunes…” Frisk put a hand on the tip of her shoulder, as if to ask permission to hug them. Martlet nodded as the child stretched an arm across as much of her back as they could reach.

“They were a really, really good friend. They were really strong, and really compassionate, like you.” Something seemed to wake up in Frisk as their brows raised and they asked, “Did they wear a cowboy hat?”

Martlet nodded, the tears slackening a little bit. “Yeah - yeah, they did.” Frisk seemed to look down into their lap, pondering as she continued, “They had a little toy gun, too. They loved coffee, and sweets, and pancakes, and dancing, and adventuring… They were tough as nails, and stronger than anyone could have ever believed.”

Frisk looked up and frowned a bit as they quietly nodded. Martlet then realized Frisk had obviously seen the container. “How did it happen?” 

Martlet’s head hung a bit as another few tears trickled down. “While they journeyed, they heard about the wrongs we’d suffered. They g-gave up their soul s-so that we…” Martlet tried to finish the sentence, but they could speak no more, and a pathetic little squeak came from her mouth as the tears seemed to come unfettered and undammed, coming in a small shower from her face as Frisk hugged her that extra little bit harder.

They squeezed Martlet’s feathered shoulders as the bird-monster cried, whispering, “It’s okay, it’s okay,” to her. Martlet’s tears finally slackened a bit as she reciprocated the hug to Frisk. 

Suddenly, the human looked up at them with bright eyes full of an idea. “Would you mind if I ran and got you something?” Martlet tried to voice a “sure,” but all that they could manage was a little nod as their breath still failed them from the emotional moment shared with the one who helped break the barrier.

She sat and watched as the human ran down the street, past the old brick building and away to some corner of this new town. She was alone now, for the moment, and wondered how Starlo and Ceroba were doing. Last she had seen Dalv, he was making moves to a more open stretch of ground to the east of the mountain, good for growing the fields of corn he excelled at growing.

Starlo and Ceroba were staying somewhere in New Home, she knew, and she wondered if they would ever complete the move up to Surface Home, but as far as she knew they were happy as it was. 

Martlet smiled a bit. Even if Clover was gone, she still had a good crowd of friends. She started to make a mental note to arrange a get-together between Frisk and everyone else, when she felt a tugging at her sleeve. 

As she turned, she saw Frisk, who had made their way back in front of her with nary a sound, giving her a start for a moment, “Aah! Oh, gosh, you scared the feathers off of me.” Frisk smirked, “Really? Looks like you still have ‘em all.” 

She shook her head, “You know what I mean.” It was then that she noted Frisk’s hand was clasped around something small. “Hm? What’s that you’ve got there?” Frisk smiled, “Something I found in the Underground when I was making my way through.”

Their hands unclasped to reveal a little six-pointed star with small brass knobs sticking out at each star-point. A word shone out from the center of the well-polished and well-kept keepsake, “DEPUTY.” 

Martlet’s hands involuntarily stretched out for the star, which Frisk eagerly handed to them. She caressed the thing and felt its contours, caressing even the pin which once held this to the chest of the human she had known so well.

She smiled a bright, happy smile at Frisk as the sweet rose that lived inside grief gave off a perfume they had not smelled since the thornbush had first grown. She felt love emanate from the little badge and embraced it, taking her arms and physically embracing the love - or at least its momentary source, Frisk, which Frisk was all too happy to accept.

“Thank you, Frisk.”  

Martlet could not explain it if she had tried, nor if she had been the most knowledgable monster in existence, but for a moment it was as though she felt Clover there, with her. As if she could hear the words murmuring through some consciousness of hers, “It’s okay. It’s all okay. You’re free now.” 

The thorns seemed as they were all coming up roses now as she enjoyed the remainder of the afternoon with a new friend.

(Thanks for reading! Be sure to go give this fic a kudos on Ao3 too!)

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

About the ask about the animorphs being defeated, it seems like the end of 5 could have let them fight their way out.

Okay, okay, a way for them to escape at the end of #5...

• The first thing Jake suggests is that Rachel demorph, and remorph to wolf. Which gets everyone staring at him like he's nuts. If Rachel changes morphs, Ax points out, then a controller will almost certainly see her through the window of their cell and conclude they're human.

«Doesn't matter,» Jake says, «because Marco's about to demorph anyway. We need Rachel able to fight.»

That gets everyone to stare at him in confusion some more.

Everyone except Marco. «Jake, buddy. That thing out there... it's not her. She's gone, and Visser One's in charge.»

Jake looks at Marco, waiting for him to remember, two weeks back, Tom's voice shouting for them to stop and Tom's hands firing a gun at their retreating backs. «I know,» he says at last. «But you're still the best diversion we have. It's that, or die here.»

«What?» Tobias asks, but Cassie's looking between them in growing comprehension.

• So Marco demorphs. And when the door swings open, Visser One's forces find a human boy standing on the other side, flanked by a pair of wolves.

"Hi," Marco says. "My name's Marco Alexiou Encarnacion. And I promise, if you tell your boss that, she's going to want to see me."

The hork-bajir-controllers look at each other, say a few things in a language none of the Animorphs know, and then one grabs Marco by the arm.

"Not without my friends!" Marco cries, and — after another exchange of words — one of the controllers gestures for the others to follow.

«Eyes open,» Jake says. «Ax, where are our exits?»

«The main hatch will be on the bridge, Prince Jake. And we may be able to survive a fall from this height, if we morph birds on the way down. There will also be several drop shafts, translucent oblong tubes that function...»

«Like an elevator?»

«It elevates the user, yes. Or produces a controlled fall.»

«Good enough for me.»

• The controllers don't take them by the bridge, and this time they're not led to a drop shaft. Instead, they're taken to a back office in the ship. One of the controllers raises a tentative claw to knock. Marco's grinning, posture casual, but his skin has a greenish tinge and his hands are shaking.

"Visser? Ma'am?"

"What is it? I told you to get rid of the— The..."

"Hi, Mom."

• Eva's face — Visser One's face — freezes like an old TV set. Then, like a set between channels, it warps: mouth twisting, eyes darting, skin tightening. This lasts for an infinite second, before Edriss's haughty indifferent snaps back into place.

Then her hand shoots out, grabs Marco's arm, and yanks him into the room. She shouts a command, and the doors snap shut between him and his fellow Animorphs.

«Ax, door hinges!» Jake shouts. «Tobias find us an exit — Cassie and Rachel, we're covering Ax!»

They get to work instantly, Ax scything his tail down again and again at the seam between the door and the wall. (It isn't a hinge, but even he knows now is not the time to explain that.) Tobias takes off, fighting hard against dead air, brushing walls with feathertips.

There's no time to watch him, because the hork-bajir-controllers are on the other three. Jake takes one by the throat, gets slammed with a knee blade to the gut, worries his teeth into flesh even as he lets out a cat scream of pain. Rachel and Cassie coordinate as only wolves can, cornering controller after controller with one at the ankles and one at the soft underbelly.

Claaaang! The support strut of the door falls to the ground, along with a chipped-bloody piece of Ax's tail.

«Prince Jake!»

He can't help, claws locked into a controller who has claws sunk into him. «Go! Ax, go!»

Rearing back, Ax slams both front hooves into the door. It falls inward with a ship-rattling BOOM.

• Visser One gets yanked back from the door, out of the path of injury, by Marco's hand on her shoulder. He can't help it. He's helpless not to, even if he knows better.

Ax looks at Marco, then at Visser One. There's no discussion between them, but Eva takes a blow to the side of the head and a gorilla lopes out close behind the andalite.

It's the best they can do, under the circumstances.

• «I've got an exit!» Tobias yells, from deeper in the ship. «I've got a hatch, anyway!»

They run, a juggernaut of muscle and teeth. They don't stop to fight the controllers that get in their way, and they don't stop for the ones that try to surrender either. The halls are narrow, and there's no time for murder or mercy.

«There, right?» Tobias points a talon, when they reach him.

«There,» Ax confirms, and then, «Brace!»

He presses a hand to the pad. The ship screeches a warning, as the hatch slides open.

Six Animorphs, and eight or nine controllers, get sucked into the Earth's outer atmosphere. Those that can morph do so. Those that cannot...

Six birds land safely on the ground, a few minutes later.

• "We have to evacuate our families." Rachel's pacing in the middle of Cassie's barn, a few minutes later. "They're not going to be safe. Connecting Marco to Jake won't take a huge leap, and from Jake..." She chops a hand at the air. "Me. Cassie. Tobias."

Marco pushes to his feet. "I need a minute."

Jake opens his mouth, glances at Cassie for confirmation. "Don't go far," he says at last.

«Ax and I are fine,» Tobias says. «So maybe we start with Cassie's family?»

Cassie looks around the barn. They can all read the expression on her face, much as none of them want to. Even with a phone call to the nearest similar facility, kidnapping her parents will doom every animal in here: the injured deer, the litter of fox kits, the lizards and geese.

There's a sputter of a ripcord being pulled, and the roar of an engine starting up. They all startle, glancing around.

"Sorry," Marco calls, "Just me." He steps out of one of the unused stalls, looking grim. "You think your dad would mind me borrowing his chainsaw?"

"For what?" Rachel says flatly. "We morph, remember?"

"Yeah." Marco shrugs. "Maybe I'm feeling a little vengeful, right about now. Like I want to look that slug in the eye when I..." He flattens his mouth, looking away.

"We have to get our families out." Jake speaks as gently as he can, pulling them back on subject. He's tired, suddenly so tired. It's really hitting him now, headache building between his eyes.

"Then I'm going to borrow your phone, if that's okay." Marco looks at Cassie, who looks as exhausted as Jake. She nods.

Rachel sits down next to Cassie, burying her face in her hands. "My mom and sisters..."

"I know," Cassie says. "I know."

• Marco shuts the door to the barn, walking into Cassie's kitchen. The phone is there in its cradle on the table. There's plenty of time to pick it up, his eyebrows drawing together in concentration as he dials the thirty-digit number from memory.

"Please hold," the automated voice on the other end says, and there's a click.

While waiting, Marco sandwiches the phone between his ear and his shoulder and trails the cord back to the door that leads to the barn. When it eases open a crack, a smile breaks over his face at the sight on the other side.

The gas generator he started a minute ago is still running, and all five free Animorphs are lying on the floor. Good. He'd worried that the barn might be too ventilated for the fumes to build up properly, but it looks like even Ax is now down for the count. Jake gasps weakly, still half-conscious, but it looks like Tobias is already dead.

The phone clicks again.

"Odret One-Seven-Seven," the thing inside Marco says into the phone. "Requesting pickup from Visser One, at the north Carmel Wildlife Rehabilitation Clinic."

[anhilliator1]

I just realized - the Launcher Hooks could serve as an in-universe indicator of which Beycrafter made which Bey.

Think about it - the series states that Beycrafting is an extremely specialized profession that takes a lot of effort to get into in the first place - and as a result, some Beycrafters may have some fame in that circle, and could be sought out by some teams for their Beys, with their "signature" in a sense being the launcher hooks.

The reason I say the launcher hooks can identify who made what is due to the fact that beys that share launcher hook stylings tend to have similar themes in naming.

So far, I can identify four major crafters:

Team Zooganic's Beycrafter - Launcher hooks are shaped like bolts, names their Beys after real-life animals. Leon Claw, Viper Tail, and Rhino Horn would have been a commission from Zooganic, with Shark Edge being an independent release.

Yggdrasil Pharmaceuticals - Launcher hooks are shaped like feathertips, names their Beys after mythical beasts. We know that they've put a bey to market before: Phoenix Feather. It's not too much of a stretch to say they've done this in the past as well, likely having done the same for beys such as Wyvern Gale and Sphinx Cowl.

Team Pendragon's Beycrafter - Launcher hooks are shaped like aircraft fins, names their Beys after the Four Auspicious Beasts. Cobalt Drake/Dragoon and Weiss Tiger fill the roles of the Azure Dragon and the White Tiger respectively, while Ekusu's replacement uses the Black Tortoise-themed Black Shell. The Vermilion Bird's slot has already been taken by Phoenix Feather.

Multi Nanairo - Launcher hooks are triangular with a line through the middle, names her Beys after fantasy jobs. This style of launcher hook has only ever appeared on the Beys used by Team Persona (No, Stone Mont Blanc and Strike Hawk do not count - they're generic beys). Knight and Wizard is fairly obvious; Hells/Incendio is less so, but keep in mind that the 4X avatar resembles a traditional Necromancer/Lich. Dran Sword is the major exception here, being dragon-themed as well as originally being a Team Pendragon Bey - but it could be the case that Shiguru could have commissioned it for Ekusu's use. Before you point out their strained relationship - in chapter 9 of the Manga, Shiguru never actually attacks Multi's skill as a Beycrafter, and even offers a bit of praise towards Hells Scythe's quality.

[ace-and-ink]

do birds cry?

i can’t imagine that animals can’t.

do you think that stray drop of something

that raindrop we swear we felt

despite the cloudless blue sky

could’ve been a bird overhead

crying as it soared?

you’d find it ironic

the animal symbolized by its freedom

by the endless open skies it can explore

they could be crying and we’d never know.

the morning birdsong could be sorrowful sonnets.

birds, so free and with the whole world at their fingertips

(or their feathertips, i guess)

wailing at the morning sun

mourning who knows what

in their nests outside the kitchen window.

it’s a sad thing to consider, isn’t it?

— mourning song

[missamyrisa2]

Hello Miss Amy, I was wondering how you would ticklegasm someone who has never had a ticklegasm before with a feather or buzz?

Yes~

For someone's first ticklegasm I'll want to ease you in, but also show the full loveliness of the experience. To set the mood I will plant gentle kisses all along your cheeks and neck~ tell you how pretty and sweet you are, and how much you're going to love this little journey. "Oooh look at that, your clothes are just falling off aren't they? Let's just toss those over there. What an exquisite body you have~" I'll snuggle up close, slipping an arm behind and holding your side gently~ I'm in my slinky mermaid outfit: silky sleeveless turquoise top with buttery smooth black leggings, accessorized with shiny chunky metal bracelets and oversized waistbelt. It's such a perfect tickle cuddle outfit for a naked sensitive body. All those soft material sensations gliding along the skin with the smooth metal administering lil cool shocks of feeling, and my long silken hair giving wispy teases between all the tickly kisses I'm layering on your upper body and spidery strokes my fingers take on your quivering tummy~

"Mmmhmm mhmmm~ yeahhh how does that feel? Does that tickle?" I murmur lovingly, assuringly. "Soo very gentle and sensitive huh? You love your tickles, don't you~ yeahhh such a sweet little thing, wanting all this attention and love. You just want to be treated all special and be eaten up like a delicious little dessert~ you're doing wonderfully with these tickles darling" I pull out my long stiff feather and start gliding it nonchalantly up your thigh. "Tickle tickle...Are you my little cupcake? Mhmmm~ mmmmh you areee? Maybe? Yeahh? No?" I snicker at your responses, cuddling up and drawing the feathertip along your royal area. "You're just like whatever crazy girl pleeease keep going~" My feather climbs higher and higher and does not stop, exploring your regal part up and down in long deliberate trembly strides. "You say pleeeease tickle Amy please tickle mama just give me the tickles~" I chuckle and oblige your body language, following every arch and twist and squirm, keeping the feather dancing at your most tender lovely areas while I hold you firmly, pinching and rubbing your side all the way to catch every motion and tickle you all the way through~

"Yeahhh you like that? You want mooore? More royal tickles on your elegant regal area? Sooo elegant and exquisite~" I murmur, carefully flicking the feather on the hot spots before tossing it and retrieving my big magic wand in one fluid motion. "Hold on tight precious, we're going in~" I start the buzzing bulb up at low, giggling at your reaction to the way it kicks on~ My motions are slow, gentle, and deliberate, giving to time to anticipate as I bring the white vibrating surface to greet your royal area~ "mmmhmm. How does that feel? Different kind of tickle huh? This is a whole new sensation for you ~ all these tickles, all over~ you're doing so well sweetheart~"

I carefully move the wand up and around your royal area while I catch the giggles in your belly with my graspy fingers. I'm working both angles gently, letting the wand get a little more touch then allowing my fingers more action right after. I pivot back and forth, cooing and mimicking your gasps and exclamations ~ "oooh ooh my god~" Smiling knowingly down, reassuring that every sound and motion is perfect. "Awww, feel good? That's it baby, let yourself go into these sensations. You're so pretty and perfectly ticklish ~ you're right where you need to be, cocooned in gentle teasing loves, bringing out all those wonderful feelings ~ one ~ tickle ~ at ~ a ~ time~"

I raise the speed of the wand and start raining kisses on your cheeks and face, holding it to your hot spot and moving the buzzies around in tight little circles. "Coochie cooooo ms. wand is gonna get youuu~" I catch your earlobe with my lips, lovingly squeeze it before moving up to start kissing your ear slowly yet relentlessly ~ "and guess whattttt" my whispers tingle inward~ "so is mr. feather..." I murmur breathily and retrieve my feather, sliding it between the wand and your royal area. "Unnnh. Nice soft feather. Nice buzzy wand. Cute royal area. Perfect tickles. All for you~ let it all out now. Gigglecum for me darling, give me all your laughs and snickers and moans~ I'll tickle you all the way through, I'll smother you in loves ~" My snickering breath and clicking tongue and brushing lips are right on your ear between kissies, my hands carefully orchestrating your incoming ticklegasm - directing your body and drawing it out down the longest and safest paths ~ there's no stopping it and no rushing it either, just the feather trembling and vibrating wildly on your skin as the wand moves up and down at full speed~

"Let it all out now, don't hold back. All your giggles. All your fireworks ~ gigglecum for me and I'll tickle you all the way through and beyond. We'll snuggle and giggle until you're a fuzzy melted mess ~ and then you know what we'll have for breakfast? More tickles ~"

[anonymousreader4d7]

Angels

Angels: The opposites, or Antipodes, of Demons, each Angel spawns due to the spawn of a Demon. They spawn in the same moment, tied to the same Element, and are the “other side of the same coin” in terms of the Balance of the Universe, to preserve that Balance, and they “mirror” each other. Different from the titular Angels that are the right-hand of and “created” by a Deity, the Angels that are Antipodes of Demons are a true species of their own. Like Demons, they are tied to an element - the same one as their Antipodal Demon - but rather than “using” that Element as Demons do, they “serve” it to the benefit of the Universe and Its Balance. Due to this diametric difference in belief and methodology, most Demons and Angels - even, and sometimes especially Antipodes - don't get along at all. Angels wear “cuffs” and/or armbands of their Element, as a symbol of their service to their Element and the Universe/Balance as a whole… Angels who DON'T wear these cuffs/bands have typically rejected “service” of their Element and are usually regarded as “Fallen” Angels. 

 Angels also, like Demons, have a true form as well as a humanoid form. Their humanoid forms always retain one to two pairs of wings and a halo, while only displaying a tail with a single pair of wings at the end. Most Angels wings are white with hints of their Elemental color at the feathertips, in either form. In their true form, they have a vaguely humanoid yet mostly featureless body shape with three or more pairs of wings - one pair of head wings, two or more back wings, and potential for others (the most common being a tail with at least one pair of wings at the end or wings at their feet) - and two or more rings circling their head. Their rings are often made of the Element they're aligned to. The cuffs (and any armbands) they wear are worn in both forms, and are made of gold (no matter their Element) with the symbol of their Element engraved on them. 

 Example: Skizz - “Fallen” (Impulse)

[feathr]

Luzon

Out of focus and behind frail feathertips,

An amber light gently mellows crisp edges.

Fluorescence escapes from under soft fringes-

Bestowing a halo upon the angels

Dirty doves cradled by cumulus cotton–

Ask the world for pity and solitude.

The greed split amidst them terribly wanton.

Egregious work for a harmonious tune.

Gracefully dancing betwixt their ruffled feathers–

A resigned hope, desperate for ascension, takes flight.

One single chain joining their necks left to sever.

Holy union calls angels to fall from their height.

Two open hearts; both sorry fools left bleeding.

Love for a winged creature is found fleeting.

aethr𐀔

[avepoetics]

Your halo is blinding, As you kneel before me, My eyes knit shut, then,

Rapture in Rhapsody, Your touch, feather light, Feathertips reaching for the sky, As my toes curl in ecstasy.

This is a prayer, The way my lips cry your name, More desperate than any confession I could give at an alter

Your fervent worship- Which i do not deserve- Wracks and wrecks me to the core, I drown in divinity

And God Willing, The tide will never let me go

[takami-takami]

"Oh my fucking god, you feel like heaven, baby–"

Keigo slurs his words as he repeats them like a mantra, one cheek smooshed down into the drool-soaked pillow below. It's a stark contrast to his sinfully raised hips, arching his back upward in a manner suited for well-behaved pups.

Even if you didn't keep in your memory the many times you've wrecked the man before you, it's obvious this isn't his first time.

His form is far too practiced. Though Keigo was the first to arouse the topic one fateful night years ago, twiddling his thumbs, you'd like to say you've adjusted to your role and trained him well.

Tonight, he allows himself a good spoiling; to gulp in air without shame, drowning in the endorphins that spark and bounce off each neuron like firecrackers in his brain.

"Need y'inside me, dove, always," he moans, high-pitched and pretty to match his rosy smile. "Oh god, right there—" he pitches a gasp.

"Mhm," you hum knowingly, angling your thrusts to bully his prostate. "Feels good?"

"Feels good," he repeats, clicking wet in his watering mouth.

Slowly, his hands crawl up to paw at the cotton of the pillow, eyes blinking half-open for a moment in an aroused and delirious daze, before fluttering shut once more. The friction of the sheets against his palms and cheek is delicious with each pounding thrust to the rhythm of the bedframe creaking below.

"Please let me cum, I-I've earned it, I've been good," he argues.

You scoff, unimpressed with his immediate justification for why he should have it rather than asking properly. On another night, perhaps one you felt a bit meaner, you'd remind him that he needn't worry his little mind: he doesn't have a lick of control in this situation.

"If you can cum untouched, maybe I'll think about letting y—"

Before you even have a chance to finish your sentence, pearly teeth are chomping down on the pillow as he humps the air, spilling himself with a whimper of, "hng— 'm sorry!"

Gentle hands smooth up and down the expanse of his quivering hips, shushing his bleary tears and hiccups.

"Aww, baby, don't be sorry," you coo, thumbing away globs of tears from his puffy cheeks. "You did perfect for me, angel."

His feathertips tingle and shiver with the praise, so you decide to make it better with a firm grip on his primaries.

"We've got all night, don't we?"

[just-wishes-and-faeries]

Another anon shows up, Dragonfly wings and gold glasses.

"Hello!"

Says the anon, They silently cast a M!A

( M!A Blixer gets wings for 5 asks)

[M!A Accepted - Blixer Wings]

Helico waves at the new anon. "Hello! It's a little chaotic right now--" Blixer then sprouts the aforementioned wings. They are shaped as feathered wings would be, with a mixture of both round and pointed feathertips. Blixer makes some disgruntled noises at the sudden change. He flaps them once. "Yeah, sure, why not have wings suddenly," he says.

[featherplumeuk]

#guineafeathers #nailart #gelnails #feathers #crafts #feathertips #nailtips (at Leicester, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/B_mYA5Unrs1/?igshid=1rm2my5l68xb7

[sheofbloodandicyfang]

Wolf-father

Sometimes he comes in force

Greatness radiating from him

Reminding me how he broke every bond,

Every chain put upon him

But one, that he will still someday shatter

Telling me that I too, can be strong,

Fearless, and my own

And other times, he comes softly

Like still-warm ash and feathertips

Words soft and knowing

A brief respite in a cold, vicious world

He who was dubbed too monstrous to remain unfettered

Is the one who sits with me as I weep,

Another wolf-child, outcast and torn

[northern-mutt]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jq8vmbWyHqE)

“Feathertips” by Waterstrider. I own nothing but want to share this.

[missamyrisa2]

all i can think about is the feathering of a ticklish boy’s ticklish “royal part.” it tickles so badly they want it to stop, but it feels so good that they want it to continue. and YOU are in total command of it all.

Mmmmmhmmm~ it's such a lovely regal tingly itch on that death trail~ riiiight up and down and up again the underside of their length. The feathertip lingers like a lovey lover just under the head in that divinely sensitive zone. The stiff quill tip only gives the gentlest of wispy sensations yet applies enough touch to keep them in suspense ~ wanting and wanting sooo badly ~ getting sooo amorous and attracted to the hand moving the feather and the smirking tickler controlling it ~ that princely part is aching for attention, throbbing and standing tall, swaying in the idle breeze and trembling from that faint scratchy sound of feather on skin~ he might try to press forward and get more touch, but the feather will retract accordingly. Only the lightest of teasy touches for the boy, after all ~ "mmmhmmm, not yet~ nuhhh-uhh" he's taunted with a shaking head and a wagging finger. He could grab the feather and destroy it, end this tickly torment. He could move away, run from the feather. He could seize his swollen royal staff and push himself over this endless edge ~

But he'll do none of it~

Because he wants the tickles, he wants to give all those lovely silly squeaky giggles, and give himself to his smiling tickler~ who is going to make that princely part bloom and leak those sweet gigglecum drops~<3