#prompt: feather

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 274

You know what is fun? Baby Ghost Jason. You know what could be even more fun? Ghosts are Dragons. 

Jason? Aware of none of this. 

He was on comms, y’know listening and rolling his eyes at Dickwing, who used his real name, really Dick, he mocks. It’s just a stakeout, nothing new there, honestly boring when he could be blowing something up instead. It should have just been a stakeout. 

Yet there’s something suddenly there, something behind him. Something that causes his hair to stand on end and his comms to spark into static like some sort of horror movie. Something, something with clawed hands with corpse-pale skin tipped in black, stained or dead or something else, tilting his head up and up and up as he’s frozen. 

“A child, out here? Alone?” a voice crackles, hisses, hums, and purrs, somehow all at once, unnatural in its tone. He can’t move, he needs to move, he has to move, but it’s like the space around him has gone cold and dead, like he’s stuck in the Pits once more as claws hold his head and his vision blurs. “Sleep, child. Rest- we’ll be home soon.” 

[makenna-made-this]

BAWKtober Day 3 - Cider Press

Can't wait for a sippy sippy~

If you'd like to support my BAWKtobering by buying a commission or a treat for my spoiled, spoiled chickens, all my links are in my pinned- *i am immediately mobbed by a flock of chickens and dragged off stage in a cloud of feathers*

[ky-landfill]

more winged tim? 👉👈

[the-barefoot-hatter]

if Ford thinks Icarus' problem was that he didn't flap hard enough... I wonder if Bill thinks about the Minotaur

[zuliuli]

Had a nice little break :)

Here's some corruption what ifs

Vos if he were to get corrupted

Jack if they never got the flower off 😔

[blee-bleep]

hi, yes, that kronmei post made me go insane indeed-e-roo

inspo is wadamama thank you🙏

[marshmallowgoop]

ShinRan Week 2023: Day 4 | Black Knight and Princess

[andromacheofappalachia]

Abish x Red Feather

Portrait Painter x Sitter | Forced Proximity | 1700s AU

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 245

Now Danny would openly admit, if only to himself, that he had a type when it came to relationships. If they were strong, if they were a threat to him, then chances were he would develop some sort of crush. It was how he had dated Sam and Valerie (And Johnny & Kitty) when he was a bit younger, and hell, Sam had technically succeeded in killing him, even if partly. 

Attraction towards smart people who could kill him was honestly par for the course for a Fenton or Nightingale anyway. 

And he’d also admit he enjoyed a bit of time travel, learning about times and culture long before his time, to the point that he could blend in in ancient times just as easily as the time he had been born in. That it was natural to mutter in a language lost to time. 

So color him surprise when another man perks up in the bar he had paused to get a drink in, vibrant green eyes gleaming in interest and responds in turn. And not just in the language, but able to keep up when he talks about things that once existed but haven’t been rediscovered yet. 

And one thing led to the other, and there might have been some assassins and some shenanigans that end with them both laughing together in an inn and then more and- Okay he has a type alright, and he’s ticking each box! How is that fair? 

[tetheredfeathers]

Prompt: “How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like that?”

A little prompt challenge me and @littlemarianah started.

Click here to her version of this.

No pressure tags at my lovely mutuals to continue this challenge.

@thesweetnessofspring @mollywog @katnissdoesnotfollowback

Kiss me

I rested my back agsint the couch as I watched Peeta swirl his brush to imitate the roots of Rue’s dark hair. Watching Peeta paint was so calming, his face seemed so relaxed I wanted to place a kiss on his forehead. I noticed that his curls looked mussed and wet on his head, just like they did when he came out of my shower the night before the quarter quell.

He furrowed his eyebrows, and his face took on that special look of concentration as he dipped his brush into 3 different colors to get the color of Rue’s skin just right. I had the sudden urge to reach out and fix his right eyebrow, since one side seemed more brushed out than the other. 

I observed that after each stroke he let out a small puff of air, relieved that he didn’t make a mistake. He never used to do that before, so confident about his paintings, my heart broke as I realized it must've been due to the hijacking. His chest puffed in and out so majestically, I wanted to place my head on his heart and listen to it beat, just like  I did all those night on the victory tour. 

“How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like that?” Peeta suddenly looked up and chimed, a smile tugged on his lips.

“Like what,” I asked, surprised. What? I can’t even watch him peacefully anymore! I thought as he stared at me.

“I don’t know you’re just…” he trailed off. “Never mind.” 

Peeta went back to mixing his colors and I resumed memorizing his face.

“Here I’m done, what do you think?”

Peeta leaned in closer than he needed to as he showed me the finished picture. I took the opportunity to rest my head on his shoulder as I judged the picture for much longer than needed.

“Maybe just add some more flowers, it looks a bit empty. “I lied, wanting to watch him for just a bit longer.

“Okay,” Peeta sighed.

I budged closer to him, swept my finger across his cheek. He looked up at me, surprised.

“Eyelash,” I said.

“Oh.” Disappointment scrunching face.

“Here make a wish.” I whispered

Peeta closed his eyes and muttered something under his breath before blowing it away. I looked up at him and licked my lips. We were sitting way too close I could feel his breath on my cheek. I should move away, but really I couldn’t.

His eyes peered into mine as he looked at me questioningly, so I tipped my head and brushed my lips against his, then pulled back to watch his reaction. He gasped loudly as I leaned in again، this time pressing my whole mouth against his. Peeta groaned loudly at the back of his throat and a surge of warmth rushed through my belly, at the noises he was making. Peeta slipped his tongue out and swiped it across my upper lip, a beastly urge came over me as I eagerly opened my mouth and climbed into his lap. Our wet tongues danced against each other languidly, his hands slid up my waist and caressed places I never thought needed to be.

“You were looking at me like you wanted to kiss me,” Peeta panted out between breaths.

[makenna-made-this]

BAWKtober Day 16 - Frankenstein

Frank-HEN-stein by Mary (Egg)Shelley

[bethrnoora]

TES Summer Fest Day 4 - Thief/Enamored

Eternal Champion Khetz-al and his fellow Blades member and Daggerfall Agent Za'ahrin, back when things were good.

[that-angry-noldo]

How about 4. for the five word sentences thing? Maybe Finarfin and Eonwe? Your writing is awesome!

"Not what I came for."

Finarfin scoffs, and considers entertaining the banter. Eönwë seems in no mood for it. The Maia strides towards Finarfin's dressing table, starts going methodically through Finarfin's boxes. Earrings and rings clink on his talons before being dismissed.

"You mean, you aren't here to discuss our further advances or renegotiate the terms of our campaign, because that simply does not require your attention."

"We already did that," Eönwë clicks the box shut with extreme prejudice, "two weeks ago. I see no need to go over it again."

"So you, what—flew a hundred miles to go through my things?"

Eönwë grinds his teeth. "I am looking for something."

"In my dresser."

"I looked everywhere. And when I say everywhere, it means I turned over every rock between here and my camp and further still and by Eru I am running out of places to look in. So yes, Noldoran. I am looking in your dresser."

Finarfin sighs.

For some reason, having the Lord of the Maiar tear through his things does not bother him as much as he would think. He watches Eönwë's attention snap back to his search, this time walking to Finarfin's makeshift bed and kicking through the furs.

"What are you even looking for?" Finarfin asks, irritation from earlier replaced with friendly curiosity. Eönwë makes a noise.

"A hair clip."

Finarfin's eyebrows go up. "A hair clip."

"Yes, it's—a claw clip. A gift. And I can't find it."

Finarfin watches, trying to remember ever seeing that particular part of Eönwë's wardrobe. His eyes skim over the Maia, catching on the rings on his fingers, earrings dangling from his ears. He takes note of his hair, raven-dark, only—

"Oh," he says. "Your hair."

Eönwë seems to have only grown more agitated. "I don't understand. I can't see it. Sense it. It's gone."

Finarfin hesitates before asking, eyes caught at Eönwë's hair, way messier than usual. "How does it look like?"

Eönwë purses his lips. "Golden. Carved into an eagle and a vulture. At least that's how your kind perceives it. It was a gift, and I—"

Finarfin walks up to him, and Eönwë stops mid-sentence, startled. Finarfin rises his hands to the crown of Eönwë's hair. Carefully, holding the side of Eönwë's face, he combs through his scalp; feels something cold against his fingers.

Finarfin untangles the clip, looks at Eönwë's face. Eönwë stares.

His expression is of surprise, then of disdain and grief. Finarfin wonders when did he learn to read Eönwë so well.

He takes Eönwë's hand and presses the clip into his palm. Scrambles for some sort of comfort. "It—happens, sometimes. I used to turn over my office looking for papers that were right before me the whole time."

"Yes, but—"

Eönwë sucks in a breath. Jerks his hand away from Finarfin, the clip clasped tightly in his fist.

"I think I'm broken," he says. "I think I'm breaking, and I don't know how to stop it."

Before Finarfin can reply, Eönwë is gone. He looks at the empty space where the Maia stood, and tries to battle the wave of sadness rising within him into something more worthwhile.

"I'm here," he says into the silence. "Whenever you feel like you're breaking, that is."

Nothing answers. Finarfin sighs. He counts minutes before the horn will cut through the dawn and rouse his people back to life; but before that, he stays, and sighs, and thinks, I would have gotten you a dozen hairclips if I knew it would help.

[inafieldofdaisies]

👻 for Mercedes and Eloise please 😁

Prompts from this post. / Monster/cryptid as representation of my character

Mercedes "Mercy" Sibley | Skogsrå

The Skogsrå appears like a ordinary woman from the front but seen from behind she has a tail and a hollow back or skin like tree bark. Any men enticed into following her into the forest are never seen again and she's said to keep the souls of those who would sleep with her. If the seduced man is a hunter in particular, he may be rewarded with good luck in the hunt, but should he be unfaithful to the Skogsrå, accidents would come upon him as punishment. It was believed silver bullets were effective means at killing a Skogsrå.

Endless possibilities with Mercedes' original lore being translated into this context, I would say, especially with Jacob having a thing for hunting and the woods, and just picture him crossing paths with a dangerous Skogsrå. The monologue how the ones before him were weak, etc etc.

Eloise "Lou" Morello | Harpy

The harpies seem originally to have been wind spirits. When a person suddenly disappeared from the Earth, it was said that he had been carried off by the harpies. In this form they were agents of punishment who abducted people and tortured them on their way to Tartarus. They were depicted as vicious, cruel, and violent.

Need I say more really... Lou's whole purpose of capturing Sinners, being vicious and cold-blooded at her core, just fits so well with her being a Harpy. She'd totally love to be able to fly and snatch unfortunate souls.

@strangefable @lilywatt @strafethesesinners @purplehairsecretlair @shellibisshe

@direwombat @voidika @imogenkol @socially-awkward-skeleton @josephslittledeputy

@josephseedismyfather @spookyrares @la-grosse-patate @dumbassdep @neonshrike

@trench-rot @derelictheretic @theelderhazelnut @katsigian

@aceghosts @elligatorrex @mkdecimation @killyourrdarlingss

[redd956]

Feather Winged Whumpee Ideas

Redo of old post of mine

Whumpee's wings being sore from excessive use

Being far too exhausted or sick to lift themselves off of the ground. They seemingly have no strength left to fly

Plucking whumpee's feathers

Something goes wrong mid-flight with whumpee, and they plummet to the ground

Caretaker carefully combing their hands their whumpee's feathers, messaging and preening their wings for them, as they have no other winged people around to help them

Whumpee being weighed down, or similar to prevent them from flying away after being taken captive

Clipping whumpee's wings

Whumpee's wings being pulled on or forcefully extended, in order to see or present the feathers better

Getting caught in a thunder storm, and being struck by lighting

Forced to land on hostile ground due to extreme weather

Caretaker massaging whumpee's back where the wings connect

A whumpee breaking one of their wings, after hitting it against something in flight

Getting caught in a net or line they couldn't see while flying. Whumpee panicked, and made it worse, getting their wings horrible entangled alongside themself

Bird cage

Whumpee's wings being forcibly closed

Getting shot while flying

Whumpee landing on a high surface, winded from desperate flight and promptly collapsing via exhaustion

[vibing-lizard-nose]

Fanning books is not entertaining

(G/ood O/mens, 2,186 words)

ok so I had a dream last night which, for the most part, was a pretty normal dream so i don't remember a lot of it. BUT there was a part almost mid dream were I had a snz dream with the husbands and GOOD LORD. I'm gonna expand this in detail but good gracious lord SEEING IT was another level. Enjoy!!1! :3 --------------------- CW: mess?? cheers to me posting G/O snz writing in 2025 lol

((DONT SHARE TO NON SNZ/SICK BLOGS!! thx <3))

It was a normal day in the bookshop. A/ziraphale had asked C/rowley to help him air the books, as to prevent them from developing mold or something. So they were fanning book after book and putting them back in the shelves.

As the night fell on them, A/ziraphale invited C/rowley to the backroom of the bookshop to drink some wine and talk, as a way of thanking his help that day.

They were a little tipsy and giggling when A/ziraphale started to worry because C/rowley had been faintly rubbing under his nose the entire time they've been talking. Although it hasn't been them talking, more like A/ziraphale to him and C/rowley nodding and humming every now and then while pretending to have some self control.

So when Aziraphale asked him what was wrong, Crowley explained to him that his nose had been all tingling since this afternoon after they fanned the books. Under his glasses, he could see Aziraphale starting to stare and him with knitted brows like he always does when he's trying to figure something out.

So before he could ask him anything else, he said something like "Maybe there was actual mold in you books. A little tiding up wouldn't hurt every so often." and then he pouted and added "Think about the costumers safety, angel" in that little sarcastic tone. Aziraphale scoffed jokingly at this, he knew the books weren't that dirty and he knew that Crowley was just being mean on purpose to annoy him and derail their conversation.

That could've worked if Crowley had stopped messing with his face but he didn't.

At some point, the tickling feeling started to get stronger and he tried to sniffle hard to get rid of it. Fetal mistake, silly boy. Up until this point, he had blamed the tickle on dust, or mold or anything that seemed reasonable. So he didn't expect the faint tickle to turn into a sharp, burning itch when he sniffed. Even more unexpectedly, he felt something move up and deep into his nose while he sniffed, but before he could begin to think about what the hell was in there he started to sneeze his head off.

This whole situation had hold Aziraphale from drinking to much, so he was well aware and awake when Crowley started to have the fit. He sat his glass on the coffee table and quickly moved close to the demon to steady him.

Crowley tried to control himself, covering with his hands as his body tensed up and coiled up with the effort of containing the fit. He was also trying to pinch his nose shut and stifle the sneezes (for some reason? maybe trying to not make a scene late at night in the silent backroom, that seemed reasonable.) but whatever was inside of him NEEDED to come out so he wasn't helping. And he was sneezing over and over, a long fit of rapid sneezes with almost no time to take a breath, so he was also running out of air. uh oh.

Aziraphale held Crowley as the fit drained him until he was panting and gasping for air. "Well, that was something." Said Aziraphale, and Crowley glared at him, but any anger that he wanted to convey was diminished by this watery eyes and red face.

"Now really. Are you alright? This is hardly normal." the angel insisted. Crowley relented and lowered his hands which had been covering the mess all over his face and his raw, chapped nose. "I feel like I broke something in- uh.." he gestured at his face. "I felt something moving in there." Explain the demon, completely drained. Oh and it was showing!

Aziraphale conjured a handkerchief that had been folder and stored on his closet. A big, soft tartan-patterned piece of fabric, and handed it to Crowley. He wanted to look unimpressed, but he couldn't do it even if he tried. It was doing him well at the moment, cleaning his face without steering the itch.

"Maybe you actually inhaled something while fanning the books" Aziraphale tried to reason. Crowley rolled his eyes "This is what I get for mocking you. Karma, as they call it now." He sighed. Aziraphale looked at him fondly, like watching a little puppy accidentally trip and fall. "I will happen again." Added Crowley, who didn't appreciate being looked down on. (He did, but this was not the moment for that kind of feeling)

Aziraphale did notice that Crowley didn't blow his nose even though he said he felt something was loose inside of it. Maybe he was just to weary to bother doing it, but it would be good to get out whatever was inside. "Why don't you try blowing your nose, dear? It might help." Suggested the angel. Crowley suddenly looked worried, like he was being cautious about something. "No than you, 'm not a big fan of sneezing my bloody head off." Protested the demon, lowering the pretty cloth.

This is one of those moment where one has to make a decision with no regard of the consequences it may have later. He knew a particular set of words that would make Crowley have a bit of a fit. He had, in the past, complain about their use multiple times to him, so Aziraphale was perfectly aware of how his demon felt about them (physically and literally).

But he wasn't enough of a bastard to say them in this particular moment even if they were convenient to help his friend when he didn't want to help himself out. He just wasn't bastardy enough to do that.

Or was he?

It wouldn't hurt (or so he hoped) and it would be beneficial to alleviate his friend's predicament if it worked the way he was picturing in his head. And, less relevant to the entire situation, he thought the demon was particularly cute when he sneezed. There was something endearing in seeing this tall, slender and usually mean demon being reduced to a sniffy little mess when it happened.

Oh, this wasn't the moment for such silly thoughts.

So without any warning, or telling looks, or anything that could possibly let Crowley know what his friend was planning, he turned to him with the faintest smile and and unleashed chaos.

"God bless you!"

Oh, he did not.

"No she h-" Crowley went to say, but was intermediately cut off as the effect of the blessing took over him. He barely had a second to cover himself back with the handkerchief before he was sharping inhaling and…

"Hh’TSCHIUUH!!- ‘TSHHIU! … Hehh-… HEh’AASSHh!!…-Nghh.."

Crowley groaned and whined as the fit passed but the tickle persisted. Whatever was causing him so much trouble must be something straight from hell. Where else could anything like this come from? He was very lucky to have his angel next to him to guard him while he was in this vulnerable position. Wait. HE STARTED IT. He should be.. angry… at him! What is he doing here glorifying the angel when he was the one to bl-

"Crowley blow now! For God's sake!"

Oh. Right. The thing.

Crowley had nothing to loose now, so he blew his nose. A sound, gurgling blow that made him recoil on his seat as he felt the tickle all over his face, so overwhelming it felt like he would choke on it. He even coughed a few times in between blows. And then… it stopped?

He opened his eyes, still blurry from the tears, and looked up at Aziraphale from under the handkerchief. He has no idea why or how but the madding itch just stopped.

"Is that better?" Aziraphale asked, softly. Crowley blinked. Then looked down at the handkerchief, unsure if he wanted to even peak.

"Yeah... What did you do??" He asked, confused. The angel smiled and looked to the side. "Well, you did mentioned you felt something had gotten in... and you just wouldn't blow it out! So I thought a little... blessing could help?" Aziraphale giggled to himself, and Crowley looked bamboozled. It had been an unpleasant feeling, sure. But he mildly expected Aziraphale to do something more magical and less... 'I just prompted you to sneeze'.

"So who was the culprit?" Said Aziraphale, looking like a child waiting to open a present for christmas.

"Do you WANT to see it? It's my bodily fluids, Aziraphale." Said Crowley. Aziraphale could be very obnoxious at times but this was another level. He didn't know if he should be disgusted or intrigued.

"Well, you didn't make a scene in my bookshop and a mess in my carefully folded handkerchief to leave me without answers! You must understand, I'm very curious about this, Crowley." Insisted the angel. Ah, well... he can't deny him that, he was also wondering what it is. It was just unprecedented that the angel would want to see it so badly.

Crowley sighed. "Alright, just don't say anything when you get grossed out." and with that, he opened the handkerchief (and tried to keep some distance from it, rightfully cautious).

As expected, there was a lot of Crowley in the cloth. The clear, gloppy mess that had left Crowley's body a few seconds ago. 'Ew' thought the demon.

Less expected, however, was a tiny white fluffy feather that sat in the middle of the cloth, completely coated in snot.

"Is that... one of your feathers?-" asked Crowley.

"It certainly seems to be." replied Aziraphale, staring at it.

"Wha-when-... WHY was that in there??" Thing had just gotten more confusing, Crowley couldn't believe that the tiniest feather had set him off like that. "I've been around your wings, I've touched your feathers before. Why did this little shit got me so bad??"

'Language.' thought the angel, and relented. "I think that one is one of my baby feathers, the ones that pop up closer to the base of my wings"

"And?" Crowley didn't mean to come off so irritated but he was genuinely confused and changing the subject wasn't helping.

"I assume those are holier then the ones at the end of my wings, and them being very new and blooming straight out of the core of my true form, they must have a similar effect to that of incense, or sage." Explained Aziraphale.

"That makes sense but how did it got my nose? How did I not feel it just casually slipping in?" Crowley argued, staring at the little feather like it was about to bite him.

"I wouldn't know for sure. But if i had to guess, I'd say it slipped into one of my old books while I had my wings out. I used to preen them a lot and my books would be around more often back then, before I got big shelves to put them in." clarified the angel. "So it must it slipped out when you were fanning the books today, I think."

Crowley was silent for a moment, as though processing all the new information.

Then looked up at Aziraphale, looking very serious.

"You mean to tell me that I almost expelled my lungs out of my corporation because I accidentally inhaled a five-hundred-something ancient little feather of yours?"

Aziraphale stared back at him.

"That's one way to put it."

They both look at the gross little feather that seemed to mock them if it could talk. Big things to come in small containers.

Crowley snorted.

"Well this was bloody ridiculous-"

And with that, they both broke out in laughter. This entire chaos was the epitome of ridiculousness, and it was hilarious to them. To think that years ago they would've called it the end of times because one of them was actively dying of this unknown, spontaneous demonic disease that would surely end up in discorporation and a lot of paperwork. But thanks to their trust, this had only been an interesting and completely unnecessary situation. It was stupid and it was hilarious.

"HEH... Oh good Lord..." finally spoke up Aziraphale, catching his breath. "I would've been so worried about your in this hadn't been so entertaining" he smiled at Crowley, looking adorably flushed from all the laughing.

"Entertaining?!" scoffed Crowley. "I might as well come by every now and then and sneeze my head off if you think that's entertaining!" chuckled Crowley, smirking at the angel.

"You could, you could." Joked Aziraphale, wiggling in his seat and grinning, like the little bastard he was.

"You'll have to hide the feathers better next time then." Responded Crowley, grabbing his glass that had been long forgotten and refilling it with wine. "I'll come back prepared to purge the books with hell fire! Or not. I don't want to burn them... hell smoke, then!"

"Oh hush now, you silly serpent!" Aziraphale giggled, offering his glass to Crowley for a refill as well. "It won't happen again, dear. I'm sorry, it must it been very uncomfortable for you" Apologized Aziraphale, looking at Crowley with those soft blue eyes.

"Not uncomfortable, never that" Said Crowley, taking a sip of his wine and slumping back on the couch. "Entertaining sounds better."