Watchmen (Super Sentai) Five Kink Meme
Rules of the meme:
1. Anonymously(or not, because we seem to have stopped following this rule) post a pairing and prompt you would like to see written. Since this is a kink meme, there is supposted to be a kink involved, but normal well-written prompts should work just as well.
2. Anonymous will respond to your post and write it for you! Art and such ( Read more... )
"Can I please go home now?" She sobs, and he strokes her hair, making his wobbly way out.
"Yes. Sorry I took so long to get here." He's starting to wonder if he has a concussion. It doesn't feel quite that way, but the world is very... strange. Now. He blinks, and under the mask his mouth loses track of how to keep the drool in. How embarrassing. He's glad he has his mask. It's a good friend, letting him be menacing and do things that matter. Things like saving little girls from unholy basement laboratories. Daniel is also a good friend. Rorschach should call him. He does, at the next payphone, but can only make a garbled noise into the receiver, jaw uncooperative.
Still, Daniel is a good friend. He pinpoints his partner's location and is there in minutes, hauling Rorschach and his charge into the airship. The next few minutes aren't very clear, and Rorschach swims back up to reality only to realize that he's lost several minutes. At least Daniel is tending to the girl, gentle and soothing and the antithesis of the bastard Rorschach saved her from. He asks a few gentle questions, wrapping her in a blanket and assuring her that yes, they will take her home, but first he has to make sure Rorschach's okay.
Rorschach wants to protest that he's fine, but things are wobbling again, so he sits as still as he can and lets Nite Owl look him over as little Heather tells them where she lives, and about the experiments. She doesn't understand much, but says she's pretty sure the idea was to make her able to talk with her mind. Or something. All she has for her trouble is nightmares and headaches. Nite Owl shakes his, and reassures her even as his own voice falters.
"Rorschach, you're sticky."
And it's true. And he suddenly remembers that flask of something clear and green, exploding. "Hurm. Get Heather home first, investigate later."
"Fair enough."
Daniel takes notes about the experiment on their way back, asking Heather gentle, revealing questions. Both are relieved beyond measure to find out that she hasn't been molested in addition to everything else, and Daniel makes her coffee that is almost all cream and sugar so she can have something warm and soothing. Soon her building is below them. Daniel takes her back, simply because they don't know what Rorschach is covered with and what it might do. Heather's parents haven't been sleeping, and Daniel leaves them clutching their daughter and crying, his own throat tight.
"So what about the mad scientist?" Daniel asks, after a silent journey to the nest.
"Dead. His own fault." Rorschach stands stiffly. "Mistimed his own autodestruct sequence, failed to get out of the way."
"Well, I'm not gonna lose any sleep over him. Come on, buddy. Let's get you cleaned up."
Reply
Reply
And yeah, it's all stretching before me in glorious Technicolor.
Reply
Reply
Reply
All night he dreams strange dreams, of his own lathe-like body softening, just a little, and flowering out into curves and clefts and other alien, terrifying things. It doesn't scare him in the dream, though. There he (she?) just laughs softly and touches herself, and the scene changes. Now he's in his own body again, in a classroom surrounded by little uniformed schoolgirls who won't stop giggling at him every time Teacher's back is turned. For whatever reason, she doesn't seem to notice a hatchet-faced, thirty-two year old man in her class, and he's anxious to keep it that way. She seems formidable. So he lets the girls make faces at him, and throw paper planes and snap rubber bands. The longer it goes on, the less malicious it seems, until he's almost giggling along with them.
And then Heather is in the empty desk beside him, wearing the same uniform and smiling. "Thanks again, Walter." She says, and he wakes up with his heart hammering the way it does after a nightmare. He looks around, and nothing is any different. His laundered clothes are folded outside the door, and he's into them and out of the house before Daniel wakes. It's a cool day, and not much going on. He doesn't actually notice anything amiss until he's back in Walter's skin and walking home by his usual route. He's almost feeling good, really. This is his day off, and he's been grocery shopping in the past two weeks, so there's hardboiled eggs and butter beans at home, and liver to fry. Who knows, maybe he'll make some headway in this quest to work out the Underboss's operation.
This is what he's thinking, until the voices start. At first he doesn't notice. It's New York, after all. Plenty of street-level speech forming its part of the citysound around him. But gradually it becomes an eerie chorus of soft voices, all female. A chorus of regrets and grocery lists and equations and children's names, women who don't want to go home and those who do, desperately. Sharp spikes of fear of being pregnant, a wave of longing from a woman sure she never will be, one young mother wanting to kill her baby one moment and loving it with all her heart the next, and Walter can't breathe.
Dreams and fantasies wrap around him, vividly detailed, fully colored, full of fear and rage and lust. Women who want to impale their bosses on pikes, want to bind delivery boys and violate them with objects, who are terrified of rape, of murder, of wild dogs and dying alone. Walter runs home, choking, and bursts through his landlady's soured lust and sullen anger, through the merciless, merciless hope of a girl on the second floor who hopes that this time, this one really loves her. Shutting the door seems to help, and his neighbors on either side are male and wonderfully silent. Shaking all over, Walter sits down on the floor and hugs himself, knowing he needs Daniel's help.
Reply
Reply
*joins in the chorus of MOOOOAR*
Reply
Her head aches, her back aches, the kids are pissing her off, the ground floor tenants are filthy motherfuckers, and she has an ingrown hair about a millimeter away from her pussy. And now Walter knows what it looks like, because he knows she's planning to take tweezers, a pin, and a compact mirror and do something about the little bastard after the kids are in bed. She wonders how much the small wound will increase her chances of getting the clap and whether it will scab, and Walter is pelting down the stairs with his hand in his mouth to retch on the sidewalk like a drunk. At least out here it's a babel too sustained for him to follow any one thought, and he shudders and mops up reflexive tears, ignoring the determined non-stares of passersby.
He wanders around, disconsolate and too out of it to find a phone, and then recovers enough to check himself for spare change only to find none. In the end he sneaks into a boys' school and uses the office phone while the staff have lunch. It rings and rings and rings and rings and he can see the sunlight in Daniel's quiet house, and Daniel sprawled out asleep in his bed. Or dead of cerebral aneurysm. Walters shudders, about to give up when there's a rattle, a clunk, and his partner's muddy voice.
"Lo?"
"Daniel." He tries to keep the relief out of his tone, but he gets the feeling it's not working. "Need help. Need help badly."
"What's wrong?" And it's Nite Owl's voice, a hundred and ten percent awake. Walter does his best not to swoon in relief.
"Whatever chemical agent that was is having a secondary effect. I'm hearing voices, Daniel."
"Oh shit. Where are you?"
And that's problematic, in his own face and with lunch nearly over. "At a bad rendezvous point. I can make it to the Nest. Wait for me." He hangs up and hopes to god he's not a liar, crawling out the window just as the secretary comes back in and shuts it. He can hear her thinking, about what she's going to make for dinner and whether or not that awful Henderson woman really is dating a teenage boy and what she ought to do about it. Walter twitches, the picture of the woman in her mind too much like his mother. He stumbles off down the street again, and manages to find and change into Rorschach's clothes, feeling like he's being watched.
It unnerves him how carnal so many of the thoughts are. He's always known of women's wickedness, but to have it broadcast directly into his head in glorious Technicolor is profoundly unnerving. And then there are the sad girls, as the stalks toward the Nest, the ones with self-hate chasing its tail round and round and round and round inside their skulls, welling up into their eyes. There are women thinking about their own looks, fewer vain and more seeing cartoons of themselves, with puffy ankles and turkey necks and two-foot saddlebags. It starts to be like looking through a funhouse mirror, and he's nauseated again as he finally slips into the subway tunnels, safely under the million million yammering minds, the chorus finally dimmed, at least for now. His head is still spinning as he makes his way to the Nest, exhausted by the time he reaches it. Daniel is waiting for him in a hazmat suit, and Walter smiles under the mask as how prepared his partner is before pitching forward, unconscious.
Reply
Aw, poor Walter...talk about extreme TMI with Mrs. Shairp, blech!
At least he's in the right place to get help now. Poor baby, Dan will make it all better. Or at least take your mind off of it... XD
Reply
Reply
Poor Danielle. How the hell would she talk her way out of that? She'd be DOoooomed.
Reply
"Right here, buddy. As far as I can tell you just dropped from sheer stress. Have you even eaten today?"
"Yes," Walter mutters, knowing that the two small bites he did have wouldn't count as far as his partner is concerned.
"So you've technically ingested food, just not enough to keep this from happening." Daniel sighs, frustration and disappointment and concern all coloring the air they're so heavy.
"Digusting thoughts. Lost appetite. Water?"
"Right here." He holds out a glass, and Walter sits up to take it. He feels stiff, like he's done much more or much less today than he has. "I'm pretty sure that's stress-related too."
Walter nods, guzzling the water. He's been clenched like a fist all day, and this is certainly the inevitable result. "I took some blood and tissue samples, but I really don't know where to start if we don't know what hit you."
"Should go back to the scene. Look for clues there."
"I've already been by. They had to identify that guy by his dental records. There's not much left.'
Walter growls, and finishes the water, getting up and wobbling a little. "Where are my clothes?"
"I really don't think you ought to wear them, buddy. Really, the mask makes me uneasy," he holds up a hand to forestall Walter's snarl, "and I know it's non-negotiable."
"Already contaminated. Where are my clothes?"
Daniel sighs, and hands over the clothes. They've been laundered, of course. Unknown and hazardous chemicals fecklessly mixed with things that will touch Daniel's own skin. He shudders as he pulls them on, grateful beyond measure for the silence in his skull. A faint mumbling makes him turn his head. "Did you say something, Daniel?"
"Uh, no. I was just thinking about whether or not talking to Heather would help and if her parents would even let us. What?" He blinks, and Walter struggles to speak, just making some garbled noises. "Rorschach?"
And Daniel is so worried about him, and picturing Heather's house with the precision of an architect, and Walter groans and falls to his knees. "I can hear your thoughts!" he screams as Daniel comes closer, hands over his ears like that will help.
"What?! You said it was only women!"
"Has been." He stares up at his partner, helpless behind his mask. "Daniel, why am I hearing you?"
"Fuck," Daniel whimpers, and there's suddenly a flood of embarrassing childhood memories and pornographic images that mercifully flick by too fast for Walter to distinguish much. And then there's just some circuits. Endless and soothing, and then nothing but murmuring again. "Is that better?"
"Yes." He picks himself up slowly. "W-will be able to sustain that?"
"I think so. Come on."
Reply
Reply
Poor long-suffering Dan... good on him for being able to see through Ror's technically-but-not-really-truthful answers. xD
And what's this new development now?! *mashes F5 key like a mashing thing*
Reply
this is fantastic, anon. Daniel is such a female man.
Reply
Leave a comment