Monday DE: Touch-a Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me

[splash_of_blue]

Aaaaaaand good Monday, campers!

I've been hankering for a writing/prompt DE for a while, so let's go with this one, partially suggested by ceitfianna:

- Post in a list of characters you'd like to write for.
- Other players respond with a prompt related to the senses: sight, smell, touch, taste, hearing and 'the sixth sense'. (Or feel free to be cheeky and suggest one of the other/secondary senses...)
- Respond to the prompts as you see fit: short fics/drabbles, plot ideas, OOMs, thread ideas...

Take it away!

Comments

[skyhigh_seance]

YES! So yeah, this guy. :)

[bjornwilde]

Taste or air pressure, your choice. :)

BTW: Some costume design regarding Ben that is meta for him and Klaus.

[skyhigh_seance]

As a little kid, Klaus loved his mom's cookies. Klaus loved a lot of things about his mom, really - the way she was always kind, the way she always responded to his antics with a fond 'honestly' or 'boys will be boys' and never let it ruffle her feathers, her effortless sense of style.

But man, those cookies. Those cookies were bomb. Rich and just crispy enough but soft in the center and the chocolate was always still just a little gooey. Perfect.

She made them when they were sad, or stressed, or just 'having a bad day'. Klaus knew she couldn't help it, some things their mom just couldn't help, but he liked to think she'd make them anyway.

The first morning he came home from 'Special Training', he couldn't get warm. He took a scaldingly hot shower, and threw on both his and Luther's sweaters (even then, Luther's shoulders were so much broader than his own, making his sweater an awesomely huge pile of fabric on his skinny frame). He curled up in front of a lit fireplace, practically perching in the flames, but... it was like he never left the mausoleum, the cold soaked into his bones and staying, persistently.

'You seem upset.' His mom had said, a faint worried frown on her perfect face as she felt his forehead for a fever. 'I'll make cookies.'

They'd helped, a little, that day, and their mom learned from her successes and failures. The plate of cookies, still piping hot, all buttery and lovely became as much a part of the training as the cold and the dark and the screaming.

So when mom presented the group with a plate of cookies after a particularly grueling maths test, and Klaus had burst into panic-induced tears... maybe it wasn't as unexpected as everyone said.

[amiable_horror]

Such happy times. /dry

[skyhigh_seance]

They had a blessed childhood.

Also that icon is amazing. :D

[bjornwilde]

I've been mining Justin Min's Instagram for icon fodder. SO many!

[bjornwilde]

Let's do this:
Jessica Drew
Viv Vision
Tybalt (Toby Daye series)

Bonuses:
May Parker (Into the Spider-verse)
Ben Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy)

[skyhigh_seance]

Ben: Touch :) or alternately, temperature.

Also evidently now I need to rewatch TUA.

[bjornwilde]

Same. And I like the prompt. =]

[amiable_horror]

It's funny the things you forget being dead. How the city smells, how ice cream chills the tongue, how jeans feel on your legs. You get used to it and eventually forget what it even was like, having senses.

You never get over missing them, mind you. You just forget what they were like. That, and being able to change the world. You can't do that without a body.

When Ben felt his fist connect with Klaus' jaw, it was a surprise to them both. The solid reminder of what touch was and felt like took most of Ben's awareness, washing away the anger at Klaus for reaching for drugs instead of helping.

The next thing he did was reach out to hug his brother, who so desperately needed it, but of course, his body was back to being a ghost. The miracle past.

It seemed fitting for their family that the hit connected but the hug did not.

[ceitfianna]

Tybalt-smell of home
Ben-brother's touch

[splash_of_blue]

USUAL TRIBE:
Sam Linnfer
Molly Hayes
Minerva McGonagall
Raoul of Goldenlake
Phil Coulson
Snow Leopard Woman
Victoria
War
Poe Dameron
BB-8

BONUS RABBLE:
Dr Max DeBryn
Nebula
Aziraphael
Crowley
Carol Danvers
Bumblebee
Singularity
Bets Hilton
Selina Kyle (Bale!movie flavour)
Singularity

[skyhigh_seance]

Minerva: Taste
Aziraphale: proprioception

[amiable_horror]

Molly - Balance
Poe - Night vision

Singularity - Time sense

[ceitfianna]

Minerva-seen through cat eyes
Poe Dameron-feel of a ship
Crowley-snake eyes

[ceitfianna]

A little late but I love fic prompts and feel in need of them. Job worries have kind of stalled my writing and I want to give it a push.

Cassian Andor
Quentin
Sameth
Demeter
Charles Xavier
Moist von Lipwig

[irish_vagabond]

Emcee
Cassidy (i have new canon for cassidy and i am so haaaapppyyyy)

[heatherandsteel]

The new season is wild.

Cassidy-seeing through high eyes
Emcee-tasty lips

[irish_vagabond]

It was well after midnight when Cassidy made his way up onto the roof of his apartment building. The city smog hung low and brown, turning the half moon piss yellow. The Empire State Building in the distance was clouded in a summer haze.

Cassidy sat down on the tarred roof and relaxed against a wall, humming an old tune as he pressed some prime weed into a pipe that he'd just bought in the Village. It was clear molded glass, with ribbons of green and orange swirling through it. It sparkled in the flickering flame of his lighter, and when enough smoke filled Cassidy's lungs, he tipped his head back and exhaled with a song on his lips.

"Life's a weary puzzle
Past finding out by man
I take the day for what it's worth
And do the best I can..."

He missed seeing stars in the sky. No matter how hard he looked, he could never see them, yet he always remembered them. Surely, they were still there.

But when the sweet scented smoke permeated his being, lifting him, cradling him, he cast his shining-eyed gaze out across the cityscape. Sharp, angular, biting into the darkness. Noisy -- and full of life. Every window, every steadfast streetlamp, burning bright in the night. That's where the stars are now. That's where he can find them.

And the moon is made of gold.

"Since no one cares a rush for me
What need a man to moan
I go my way and draw my pay
And smoke my pipe alone..."

[ceitfianna]

Oh Cassidy, I love that.