Watchmen Kink Meme 3. Weeeeeeee.

[spam_monster]

Rules of the meme:

1. Anonymously 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 is also acceptable/awesome. Multiple people may respond to

Comments

When a God Loves a Hobo

[anonymous]

It is October 1964, and a new crimefighter is weeping in my arms. I already know what he saw, but I ask him all the same. People who don't believe in God sometimes act as if they do, saying it gives them a moral compass. I have been what they call Dr. Manhattan for five years, and I am already realizing (have already realized, always knew, always know, always will know) that I don't believe in linear time, but that I have no choice other than to act as if I do. He tells me about the mugging, about the man who bled out in an alleyway for ten dollars and change. Death doesn't frighten him, but failure does, and the pain that comes with it. These things happen countless times, every night, all over the world. But because he was (is, if I go back to that dismal place I will see them both) there, with adrenaline thickening his blood and rage and grief humming through every muscle fiber.

I am no longer human. There are chittering, leaping chimpanzees inside humanity, and mine is gone. But I am still shaped in the vaguely pentagonal, bilateral form of a human, with sensory organs on top and excretory/reproductive ones below. I hold him close to me and stroke the skinlike stuff of his mask (a cheap imitation of my own design that was unpopular enough to begin with, and I don't know how to feel about that and never did and still do not) and make a soothing, meaningless hum. I have no heartbeat, and it seems dishonest to manufacture one for him.

January 1965, and Walter Kovacs is sprawled out under me, kicking and clawing at the sheet because pleasure is the one thing he cannot bear. I catch one foot and turn my head to press a kiss to it, and I know that even if I were a normal man, his cries would haunt me forever.

July 1975, and this is the one thing I cannot fix.

November 1985, and Dan screams until I scoop Walter up like a small, disobedient pet, and vanish. He will hate me for years, but we have time.

Re: When a God Loves a Hobo

[vonnix]

Oh, wow! Thank you so much, that was awesome!

Re: When a God Loves a Hobo

[anonymous]

Oh man. This is so very good. Excellent work, anon.

Re: When a God Loves a Hobo

[anonymous]

I don't know what I love the most this:" I have no heartbeat, and it seems dishonest to manufacture one for him." or that last line. I really enjoyed your take on the two characters. Thank you!

Re: When a God Loves a Hobo

[anonymous]

That was wonderful, thank you.
Walter Kovacs is sprawled out under me, kicking and clawing at the sheet because pleasure is the one thing he cannot bear. - I really love this line.