공감각

When Keith found himself mentally linked to Lance of all people, he never thought that it would end in anything but irritation and misery on both sides. He certainly never imagined that it would be a useful asset in team Voltron's fight against the Galra Empire. Now if he can just keep his feelings in check, they might actually have a chance at defeating Zarkon. Needless to say, when he'd wished for a 'bonding moment' with Lance, this wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind. (Eventual romance and mature content for later chapters).

Tony drives off. Well, he wants to. But he can’t. Because. Steve Rogers is in front of his car. Steve fucking Rogers. Is in front of Tony’s fucking car.

On the border between Mondstadt and Liyue, he meets Xiao for the first time. “When one is alone and lonely, the body gladly lingers in the wind or the rain, or splashes into the cold river, or pushes through the ice-crusted snow. Anything that touches.” –Mary Oliver, Leaves and blossoms along the way: A poem

Dim blue eyes stare up at him. Hair that might once have been rich with colour hangs limp and brittle around a gaunt face. A face with a split lip and a fading bruise on one cheekbone. A face that is blank of all emotion and yet simultaneously screams help. No, he doesn’t see danger. He sees only a man trying to meld with the wall and make his body as small as possible while staring down Din with a glare so cold that it could cause anyone’s blood to turn to ice. The man is dressed in thread-bare prison garb that hangs off his slight frame like oversized drapery and around his wrists is a pair of complex-looking cuffs. They’re the same ones Grogu had been shackled with, cuffs that somehow diminished his powers. If this man bears them too could that mean… Din crouches, bringing himself down to the man’s level. “Are you a Jedi?” * In an alternate universe where the name Luke Skywalker has long since been lost, Din Djarin discovers an unexpected prisoner aboard Gideon's ship, finding not only a potential teacher for Grogu but also the man who will change his life, and his heart, for the better.

Spencer Reid lives in fear in meeting her mother’s fate — having her brilliant mind turn on her. She buries that fear in her books and her work, but it continues to prey on her. When she begins to feel things that make no sense, Spencer’s fears seem to be coming true. Until David Rossi, newly returned to the FBI, gives her an answer she never expected. Tony DiNozzo was a good cop, not because he’s a Sentinel, but because it was who he was. Key word — was. A second career-ending injury cost him his badge, but his senses are unaffected — however often some buff young sentinel looks at him and sees a cripple. Tony knows who he is, and the assumption that he’s dormant might annoy him, but it changes nothing. A Sentinel who knows himself inside and out. A Guide who has always been afraid to look inward. And plenty of well-meaning friends to meddle in their lives. What could go wrong?

But he can talk (almost all the time), feed himself (although he hangs a sign on his bathroom door prompting him to make himself dinner), and work like a functional adult. (He doesn’t need to ask for accommodations. He’ll be Just Fine.)

Fem!Bilbo has synesthesia. Sounds are like touches for her. She learnt to live with it... and then Gandalf invited her on an adventure in the company of dwarves. Their voices torture her, especially the majestic voices of the Durin line, which inflames her to no end. Originally written for The Hobbit Kink Meme. 2019 Update: After Chapter 47, the story was discontinued but with all the notes and outlines posted to give a full conclusion to the story itself! Thank you very much for reading this!

The first night Marty gets Rust home and put to bed he whimpers like an old hound dog in his sleep, making these ripped-raw noises that well and gurgle up past his lips like fresh blood from the hole in his gut all over again. Doesn’t know he’s doing it, course not, but Marty lays there next to him in the dark—the man’s only got one bed, ain’t no shame in that—and has to wonder about the Vietnam-grade shit Rust’s got playing in living technicolor in his head.

In which Sherlock Holmes finds out what it's like to truly want something, John Watson isn't too bad at deductions, and everything gets a bit bright for a minute. "Sherlock Holmes isn’t sure about John Watson right away. That in and of itself is unusual, as he typically forms instantaneous, and negative, opinions about everyone he meets. The truth is Sherlock is so engaged in his work when Stamford brings John to meet that him that he fails to register his presence almost entirely until John offers him the use of his phone."

Dumbledore told Harry that he had to stay at the Dursley’s for at least two weeks before visiting people. But Harry has a job to get to and doesn’t particularly care for listening to Dumbledore when it comes to the Dursleys. When he returns to Hogwarts he has to survive blast-ended skrewts, the intense Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, as well as that off feeling he gets whenever Cedric smiles at him. Oh, and the Triwizard Tournament.

“Alright.” Joel had been quiet since the mention of the watchers, and when he spoke now he sounded tired. “So, the Watchers took us all and dumped us on a random server with no clear way to leave, is that about right? And we have life game mechanisms in place.”“Sounds about right.” Grian nodded wearily.“Well, fine. All we need to do is be careful and not die, yeah? Seems simple enough. Just focus on staying safe, gearing up, and trying to get home. And the admins will surely be looking for us.”Grian looked around at the birch clearing, then up at the sky, sun blazing overhead. “I mean, it sounds fine in theory… but these are the Watchers we’re talking about. Who knows why they sent us here. And surely they have some sort of trick up their sleeve.” OR, Twelve players find themselves stuck on an island filled with unknown mobs and life-game mechanisms. How are they gonna get themselves out of this one?

“Your voice sounds rosewood when you’re lying.”“I didn’t lie, Harry.”“You’re lying right now.”Louis rolls his eyes, sighing. “Honestly, fuck your synesthesia.” (The story where Harry hears in colors and Louis’ voice is multicolored. Harry hates his disorder, Louis hates to be gay. Little they know, they’re meant to be)

Are you sick of your life? Do you have no friends, family, or partners? Is your mental health so bad you could be considered a shut-in? Do you want something different? Then come on down to the Aura Clinic, a state-of-the-art sex-doll making facility that will turn you into your dream fucktoy self. Four young twentysomethings with a desire for a better life turn themselves over to the clinic, and are molded into fuckdolls using hypnosis, body modification, and all manner of sex toys. Soon they'll be showcased and bought by their new masters, but for now it's time for training. Inspired by cifw5, and raptor4d4’s “Rothlord Academy” and “Simplify Your Life” series.

Lance has this thing called synesthesia. It’s basically where you can see and taste words. And his entire team knew. It took a little bit, a little over a quintant, for them to get used to him pointing out what they felt like based on the tastes or colors of their voices. He was just glad they wouldn’t question him anymore when he said stuff like “Damn, Hunk, you upset or something? Your voice tastes like soggy waffles.”

Michael craved stimuli and yet despised it; Lincoln, in his own ways, was much the same. Michael tapped things, counted, checked, tested, always consuming more information. Keenly aware of what normal was and how difficult it was for him to achieve it, Lincoln got an early start dulling the edges of his own perception, because he wanted that kind of thing to get the fuck out of his head. There were times they wanted the same sensations at the same time, but there was always a line, some hidden seam between good and bad that neither of them could locate until they snagged it and the moment passed.

Lance’s hand darted out and grabbed him—just like that. And it felt so real and he looked and smelled and was like Lance. Keith couldn’t deny how much he missed Lance, but not enough to fall for a goddamn hallucinogenic dream.“Whoa, hey, close one,” Lance laughed. They stared at each other for a solid minute before Lance’s eyes dipped down and turned up again. “Is that… Is that my jacket?” - - - Ever since Lance passed away, Keith has been a mess and can't help but sense that some part of Lance is still with him at all times, and it doesn't help that they never resolved anything between them. So when Lance reappears asking to see his parents, Keith's desperation leads him to help Lance on this cross-country journey if it means getting to patch up whatever the hell happened before Lance died.

Gerard's constantly in awe, but can never fully express it.

So the first thing the KinAra omake reminded me of was Jackson Galaxy offering cats his glasses to introduce himself and, uh, this popped out.