#feathertouch

[ms0milk]

Struggling to slow dance with Shoyo, too aware of your breathing, cheek-to-cheek. MSBY’s spiker is uncharacteristically stiff, quiet on the floor of the charity event with an arm high at your back and his other hand balancing yours. You could tell him to relax. You could point out all the pretty details of the gala your PR team prepared but you’re suddenly too nervous to look up. He swallows. He was excited to be first on the floor a moment ago when his eyes caught yours, and even as he pulled you away from a clipboard you knew something would change.

Shoyo fills the seams of a suit everyone knows he hates wearing and rocks you slowly through the rhythm of the piano. You hold him where you can while two pairs of dress shoes tap quietly and blessedly, without stepping on each other. His chest is firm under your fingers. He has always loved to dance, to shake freely and wind around the court after practice. It's a habit from abroad. Tonight, strong fingers trace the notches of your spine until his hand settles low where it’s meant to be, but his hold isn't tight, the feathertouch gives you chills, what are you both so afraid of? Can he feel your heart beat against his lapel?

“Really pretty party,” he finally murmurs. He swallows again and touches his temple to yours.

Two, four, five, he sets his jaw and you count every time he tries again to speak. “Thank you,” you whisper. He swells. He draws you just slightly closer. You smile when ginger hair tickles your forehead on the slowly filling dancefloor.

[loressa]

The Magi

At first I thought it was just the dog, wandering alone over the leaves in the Simupark, his back curved and his head low so he had to lift his eyes and peer through his brows when the squirrel ran past and sat poised on the tree trunk, aware of him. A challenge. He froze for a moment, then - realizing his age - continued to shuffle along over the leaves, occasionally slowing to nose one over or limpidly paw at the dirt, but never more than disinterested.

It was quite advanced - I hadn't seen this display before and smothered a grin, thinking of Letna stuck down in labor. She had told me the tests didn't matter, given me shit for preparing - but when did she end up placed?

As the dog turned the path towards me, I saw the man he was walking come into view, stooped and crooked like an old chimney. He clawed at a thick walking stick, fingers curled around the knob at the top like hands rested on a knee – comfortable, but necessary to stop the tremor.

He wore a cap tight on his head and a sweater underneath his coat. Space was too cold for him. For some, it never sat right. I saw it all the time - nausea, chills, psychosis - and would regularly comm in an alert about a guest. I cleared my throat, neck flexing to deliver a subvocal call sign… and then waited. Something felt different.

Red cheeks, beyond the cold, and a nose of a man who was no stranger to the gentle ministrations of synth. Pronounced veins, spiderwebbing dark. Certain lovers leave marks. This was something that had existed before we had launched. Something that had likely existed for as many generations as he could have afforded. Something symbiotic, twining around his very psyche, like a snake replacing his insides.

We saw those, too, from time to time, and I became alert, body tensed, shock stick humming, eyes shifting over to augmented view. His entire story began to run before my vision, a waterfall of love and loss and pain and trauma and - at least according to the pretests - regret.

I pulled back two levels, confining the feed to visual. I spit into the vomit tube.

Clean.

It wasn't an anymore thing, anyone could see: underneath the flush, he was pale and sunken and quivering, beyond the crave of a bottle. The old beckoning feathertouch had been eclipsed by a shake and then a seize, abruptly, recently - what had felt like a gentle, familar stroke was now the whisper of breath against his neck as death sang the gentle lullaby she always does.

He used to be quite a man, I now knew, one of grand adventures and even grander tales of adventures, the kind which had bodyblocks on scanning them. I wondered how he had come to this ship, this pointless corner of nothing where everyone but the youngest will be gone and replaced before we arrive. We didn't have regeneration in the cheap corners of the universe.

What had driven him from home to come die here, in the nowhere between places?

There was a story there, novels worth of history - his life. I longed to transfer to private, to record and to THINK but I was on shift for another sleep cycle and so I just tried to remember as much as I could, my thoughts spiraling away, my brilliant connections of awareness fading back into painfully unaugmented memories of revelation.

All I could do was witness.

His eyes scanned the ground, but they darted upwards once, and I saw their haunted look. He knew more than just the lullaby; he was one of her lovers, and death had not treated him kindly. He coughed, as he passed the tree, and the squirrel fled upwards, the spell of still broken.

I let myself shift a level higher and did a quiet scan. The squirrel wasn't tagged by breeding - just another simulated thing. The dog was real, though, which was astounding.

Most just get a replacement, better, augmented, tomorrow. To have a true pet on a colonist ship didn't just mean rich. I didn't know what it meant, but I knew it was beyond my paygrade to even try to figure it out.

Th dog leaned against the trunk, then shook - the leaves and dust and sun were all quite convincing here - while the old man paused, and then it rolled and rolled and rolled in the simulated soil and simulated dirt and simulated dawn before eventually laying down, moss clinging to his coat like dalmation spots against his long hair.

And then the second man stumped down the path.

It was a painful cough to hear, the kind that rips you apart more than the cougher. The old man just waited patiently, leaning against his cane, as the other man – barely more than a boy, I realized, as I stared longer; his shoulders still had that awkward shape of adolescence and his face was young under the age, he couldn’t have been more than 20 – reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away the little flecks of blood and foaming spit that had fallen around his lips. The handkerchief came away red with little spots. I saw that clearly from my post and then pretended I didn't.

Continued pretending I didn't exist.

As he tucked it back in his pocket, the young man almost self-consciously looked around. An alert (HEARTRATE ABNORMAL: PLEASE EXERCISE CALM) flared and fell to quiescence - I felt like an intruder. Calming colors flooded my vision.

His face was gaunt under the beard he had grown. His clothes were baggy, but the right length. He pulled his hat down tighter - space didn't suit him, either.

But some magic could only be cast amongst the stars.

The old man stood staring up at the boy, a sad sort of smile on his lips, and then gave his arm a weak, affectionate squeeze. They both turned and continued to walk down the path, to a bench further on. The young man helped the old one sit, and the dog lay at their feet.

Both men sat then - for ages - as my memories shifted like dumb clay into mere sentiment, instead of brilliance. The fuckers merely sat looking at the park, watching the SimuKids run around SimuShrieking happily, the SimuLovers laughing and flirting, the SimuMothers with their baby carriages, pushing the prams into a circle and gossiping about so-and-so’s SimuHusband, or this-and-that’s new car, the pretend tourists chasing pretend ducks like imagined children, and laughing like children, and taking so many pretend pictures to capture the memory of that time they were prompted and coded and designed to feel like children for the amusement of their solitary visitors among the stars.

The dog slept at their feet.

Eventually-

Eventually-

Eventually-

They finally left.

The dog passed, bending to sniff me.

Beneath my gear, fabric rustled. I gave its head a stroke, and it gave my hand a dry lick. Beautiful eyes, deep brown pools with golden flecks. Then, the men passed him, the boy’s eyes flickering downward towards me, a sad sort of smile, almost sympathetic, and the dog trotted softly back to his owners, his tail slowly wagging.

They walked around the corner, their backs receding into the trees, the dog slowly following, silently eyeing a squirrel. As the men disappeared, the dog stopped and let out one deep, throaty bark, then fell back onto his haunches. The squirrel leapt into the branches and quietly chittered in protest. From the trees, I heard a soft, hollow whistle, and the dog rose and gently loped off after his masters.

He still had it in him.

[clown-demon]

Dare she? As he was muttering in his sleep, she would gently pet down his hair. Keeping it a feathertouch. She didn't want to wake him up.. but enough to maybe help him sleep even better...

She still needed to get a puppy.. Maybe if she moved in, she would get one for sure...

Give him a month or two for that. He wanted to do this properly. As for waking up, it took him a few more hours, but he was muttering for the last hour with a delighted expression on his face...

"Cute puppy..."

[fourandmoreeyes]

I never posted this because I'm actually bad at social media, but—

Here's a cute and fun side story that follows my two original Korean idol groups: AFTER.ALL, an all-female pop group, and FaBLE, a veteran, chart-topping R&B duo.

In this side story, you'll get a glimpse into Astra's mind as she struggles with perfectionism while training. I was honestly inspired by a really cute TikTok (that I highly recommend checking out).

If you want to read now, check it out on AO3!

Both groups make their debut in my original anthology/novella, Feathertouch Impact, where you can read about FaBLE's 18+ antics.

[vaamanclinic]

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[dermaplaning-perth]

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[fromashesweriseuphiddenones]

The story idea is called Rewards of Diversity, each person listed here has ancestry from different parts of the world. Desmond is a no brainer but:

Jamie Ellea Tundra: is of Spanish, French, Syrian and Irish descent. She has Aguilar, Arno, Malik and Shay for ancestors.

Rishkar Kaladesh: is descended from Evie Frye and Jayadeep Mir, so his Indian English.

Marwyn Feathertouch: is descended from Edward Kenway's daughter Jennifer Scott. He also has Native American in him too but it has not been looked into as of yet.

Brallin Skyshark: is interesting because she has Thorvald Hjaltason who was around at the same time as Harold Bluetooth (Yes the guy whom our tech is named for, learned that from King's men). She is Norse and Swedish.

Lagnella Magpie: Well since we have Richard the Lionheart in Assassins Creed, why not make mention of his brother John Lackland. Yeah that's her French English ancestry. But the Italian gets interesting as she is descended from Claudia Auditore.

Latest art. An au where Desmond survived dying at the end of AC3. Brallin's hair is naturally pink and I am unsure how honestly.

[algoworks]

Algoworks added a feather to its cap by winning The Business Leadership Awards powered by Feather Touch.

For more information, Please visit the blog page: https://www.algoworks.com/blog/algoworks-won-its-first-business-leadership-awards/

[penhero]

This is a Sheaffer Admiral lever fill fountain pen in Marine Green c. 1945-1948. The pen is about 5 inches long capped and sold for $5.00. A matching pencil sold for $3.00. The 1/32 inch wide cap band, lever and SHEAFFER’S stamped clip are gold filled. The barrel is stamped W. A. SHEAFFER PEN CO. over FORT MADISON, IOWA, U.S.A over MADE IN U.S.A over 500, which indicated the $5.00 price. They were available in Black, Golden Brown, Marine Green, and Carmine with gold trim and Pearl Gray with chrome trim. The two-tone palladium plated gold nib is stamped SHEAFFER’S over Feather Touch over MADE IN U.S.A. over 5. It has an ink view window in the section near the threads. #pencollecting #fountainpen #sheaffer #sheafferpen #admiral #feathertouch #celluloid #penhero https://www.instagram.com/p/CCKQFtkDmFU/?igshid=k26qcdx6jhy7

[dunhilllashes]

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[sxnburst]

With his free one, Sun doesn't shy away in caressing Zhang San's cheek. Brushing a thumb over the rose colored and just briefly does his thumb brush over the corner of San's lips. Golden eyes are only focused on the man in front of him. He only hears him and he can't help but smile. The ends of his own lips curls, tugging upward. Even his own face feels hot. He wants to be closer to Zhang San.

He closes his eyes. When HE thinks about the time that he wasn't around Zhang San it hurts. "I don't know how I did either." He admits. It was as if the world in the beginning did not want the two to ever cross path and the stars chose against that. If it weren't for the people who brought them here...Would they have met each other? Sun doesn't want to think about a life where he didn't think about Zhang San. This man was his whole entire world.

Sun plans on telling Zhang San EVERY single day.

Starting now.

Or...He would have if the server hadn't arrived. Damn. Sun wears a big grin on his face. Proud that he can eat as much as he can, but honestly: "If I'm being honest with you, I could watch you eat and get full." How CLICHE AND cheesy. He knows it too! "Enjoy~." He brushes his fingers over San's one last time and gives the back of Zhang San's hand a light feathertouch kiss before he's enjoying his fries and burger.

The bouncing tail was enough for Zhang San to note Sun's approval of the establishment. He dragged his thumb across Sun's hand, feeling the soft tuffs of hair that lined his limbs. Touching Sun felt necessary to his well-being. It brought him comfort and the resurgence to continue conquering the daunting despair that plagued his life. He hoped, no prayed, for Sun's sake that he would not lose this never ending battle.

"A date? I-I suppose so," he sheepishly smiled and leaned into Sun's caressing touch. "I don't particularly have money for anything fancy... but I always believed sentiment over ruled material possessions." He led Sun inside, and uncharacteristically confident approached the register to order the same meals they indulged in their first encounter. Choosing the exact placement on his first day emerging from the hole, Zhang San leaned forward to whisper, "Do you remember what you promised me, Sun?"

[seewantshop]

When your @jeanswest denim is so darn comfy you can roll around in autumn leaves for hours 🍁 Full story & outfit details over on the blog... #FeatherTouch #Jeanswest #SeeWantSpon (at Seewantshop.com.au)

[hierarchacademy]

With multiple trainings on the market, it can be hard to know which to choose, the first thing to do is to determine what you need.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ As a complete beginner - you will need a foundation masterclass, this is where you learn the break down of each step in bite sized pieces. It’s usually the most intense type of training as you will be learning things that are new to you.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ As an advanced artist or certified beginner - an up-skilling masterclass will help you perfect your technique and keep growing. These are usually less intense and commonly ‘look and learns’ that will teach you different ways to do things.

[asbestieos]

WIAT FUCK ME ONE MORE THING

auu

[terminallydepraved]

GUYS check this out!!! NIL does amazing work and feathertouch is SUCH a good read!!

❝ The greatest story ever told is yours and mine. ❞

FaBLE is known for their enigmatic, dreamy, and phantasmagorical music. Their fans (DREaMERS) have fallen in love time and time again with their lyrics, their videos, and the members themselves. And FaBLE delivers yet again with this too good to be true peek into their lives!!

It's time to unite and rejoice! My original idol-ero anthology just dropped—and the fans are going wild! Enjoy five chapters and 80+ pages of non-stop eroticism from the chart-topping international sin-sation male group FaBLE!

Get your tickets now and enjoy the show up close and personal!

※ $8 or more on itch.io! Spread the word, leave reviews, let me know your favourite character(s)/part(s)!

[cosmetictat-blog]

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