[[ Warnings: mentions of blood ]]
He remembered fire. Running. Shapes and shadows sprinting behind and around him…
Echoing screams, twisted yells, cars screeching and crashing together. The smell of burning skin and blood. Dad running in front of him, an arm dangling from the form he held close to his chest. Josie’s hand clutching his. Blurred forms sprinting across the streets and the sounds melding until they flat lined to a single, high pitched
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee—ep … eep… eep … eep…
The streets were gone. Replaced by white walls. Silver metal.
More silhouettes. Blinding lights.
This was familiar. He’d been in a place like this once before, after a bull had nearly flattened him between the barn wall and its side.
… click …
[[ Warnings: Blood and gore ]]
The Reeds were dead.
They’d moved into town when he was about five. Cynthia was only three months younger than Chris and they’d become fast friends and right after their first play date. Belle was born a year before Josie; they’d practically grown up together. The Reeds had always been very kind hearted, soft spoken people. A nice contrast to Ma’s bloodline, that brought a bit of a hot-headed nature into their household. It seemed to even them out. Now Mr. Reed was lying dead on their kitchen floor. And Mrs. Reed had gone wild and was nowhere to be found. Probably sick like her husband had been. And the girls… he could only imagine. All because of a trip to the city. His father had almost gone with Mr. Reed that afternoon, but Lou had managed to get his leg caught in some fencing, leading to the two of them taking the old horse down to the neighbor vet. The shire didn’t know it, but his silly accident had quite possibly saved their father’s life.
Their parents had let the animals out of the barn, returning with one shotgun and a first aid kit. Chris had made a comment about not helping country stereotypes, but it had gone unnoticed. They were hardly on the road when it became apparent Ma’s adrenaline rush had worn off and the pain in her leg was beginning to cause her a large amount of discomfort. A large bruise had already formed where Petunia had kicked her. Dolcetto could feel his own shoulder throbbing, and he wondered if Tigger’s sharp pull on the lead rope had dislocated it. Though, he still seemed to have function in his fingers and wrist. Maybe it’d just been strained to hell.
Dad tried turning on the radio but it was just dead air. Dol heard mutter something about that not being good and even swear under his breath. For once, Ma didn’t smack or flick him. Instead, she rubbed a little at her mouth and inhaled shakily, as though she hadn’t heard him.
“…all the nights I’ve let the radio stay on during dinner,” she whispered hoarsely, “Tonight was the night I didn’t.”
[[ Warnings: Mild blood and gore (just to be safe) ]]
“…hmn… Somethin’s up.”
Dolcetto straightened a little, glancing over his shoulder as he closed the stall door. The last of the evening sunlight was leaking through the crevices and holes in the barn’s roof, making the dust sprinkled in the air visible as it floated through the beams. Stray chickens wandered past his feet towards the large two open doors at the head of the barn, where a much larger figure than his own stood silhouetted with his hand visoring his eyes. “Huh?”
His father nodded out to the cows, waving a lazy pointing gesture in the direction of the pasture.
“Cattle’ve been nervous all day. Even Ol’ Lou’s been actin’ squirrely.”
Dol poked out his lower jaw, frowning a little. “Huh,” he repeated, watching a few of the cows as they paced through the visible section of the pasture and pawed at the ground. He had noticed they’d been acting a bit more skittish than usual as the day dragged on. Prancing away from wheelbarrows and lingering around by the fence and gates as though they thought they were going to need an escape route. And Lou, who was normally so calm that you could climb on his back, take a nap and be just fine, had even been on full alert. His head had been lifted most of the afternoon, ears swiveling in place and nostrils quivering every few minutes. It’d been strange, but after a few hours, Dol had decided to ignore it. “Maybe there’s a storm comin’. They get like this just before a big’un.”
“Ain’t a cloud in the sky.”
“They’ve snuck up on us before.”
“S’pose you’re right.”
His father shut the feed bin and moved to the barn entrance, waving back to him. “C’mon now, don’t wanna keep Ma waitin’. Smells like food’s on. She’n Chris seemed real excited ‘bout tonight’s supper.”
“Be right in. Forgot to check Lou’s hock earlier, don’t want it swellin’ up again.”
“Alright, well. Don’t be long.”
Drabble — The Kappa Killers of Xing
Based off RP between fallapartironheart and myself
All of Yin’s dialogue written by fallapartironheart
It had been a weird month.
First there’d been the whole ‘waking up from the dead’ thing. That was different. Could have sworn the last time he checked, that was not only impossible, but completely and utterly taboo.
Second, he quickly discovered that while being alive again was pretty nice, it really wasn’t all that great when the wounds that brought death to you were still open, bleeding and giving you such flaming pain that you soon decided no, no I liked being dead much better.
Third, when he’d been conscious enough to actually put two and two together, he realized he wasn’t somewhere familiar. There were different smells. Different auras. Different sounds, different faces. It was a while before anything he recognized appeared. And it wasn’t a face, it was a hand. A tattooed hand, to be exact. Which lead to number four.
Drabble — Only ‘Man’ (possibly pt1)
Bioshock/Devil’s Nest crossover; feat. Naomi
"You sure know how to show a lady a good time."
Dolcetto stopped, letting his arms drop across his knees as he looked up from where he knelt. Naomi was looming over him, a large curved and bloodied pipe resting on her shoulder. Her eyebrows rose over the rims of her heavily tinted sunglasses and she gave her head a sharp, mocking tilt to the side. “I mean, manslaughter and looting bodies and picnicking with creepy ass little girls isn’t exactly the first thing I think of when dates come to mind, but. I’m having fun. This is fun.”
"That’s great, Naomi, absolutely fantastic; now wouldja shut up and search her?" He gave a sharp point to the fallen woman across from him, her body twisted in such a way that had she still been alive she would have been begging for someone to help her up. Naomi let out an exasperated sigh, dropping her head backwards and stepping noisily towards the woman with an off handed ‘fine, fine’. Dol rolled his eyes and quickly returned to checking the jacket pockets of the corpse he knelt by, finally deeming him empty of anything useful and pushing back to his feet.
The room was dim and annoyingly so. There wasn’t much natural light to work off of and the electricity seemed to be on its last few sips of juice. He could hear water leaking into the room from one of the corners and the faint buzz from the broken door they’d had to force open to get in here. Aside from the unsettling ambient sounds of the area steadily collapsing, the space was quiet. And that brought a strange feeling of comfort and unease.
It had been a mistake, bringing word to Greed that they’d overheard talk of an underwater city with advanced technology and science. They probably should have kept their mouths shut. Probably should have known that that information alone was all he needed for his deadly avarice to kick in and drive him into a state of mind where nothing else mattered but getting exactly what he fucking wanted. Nothing more. Nothing less. And, as always, that want boiled down to one not-so-simple thing: immortality.
For once he couldn’t hear them. Or their voices were muffled. Twisted. It was like he was underwater.
The room was blindingly white. And the four, five figures surrounding him were nothing but black shapes with beady white ‘eyes’, where the hot lights above reflected off their goggles. Talking. One of them reached forward and twisted the device that covered his mouth and something metal pried his jaws open. He let out a growl and jerked at his restraints, though both efforts were useless. They were different today. His right arm was angled differently and it was extremely uncomfortable and made struggling harder than usual.
More muttering. Couldn’t understand it.
Something burned in his mouth and for a moment he tasted blood. And then the device closed again. He rolled his jaw, spitting at the metal as it was removed and glowering at a scientist who moved to his right arm. They reached down, poking and prodding around his elbow and squeezing at the muscle.
“Hey,” 156 growled, closing his fist and giving his arm a jerk. “What the hell are you doing?”
"Why. Testing to see if you have increased healing, of course," the voice replied. Their hands flattened on either side of the elbow joint. 156’s eyes widened.
"—wait. What do you mean?!"
He could hear the wide, sinister grin as the white goggles turned to watch him. So that they wouldn’t miss even the smallest movement. “…relaxing your arm may make this less painful.”
"—what are you—"
He gasped sharply, heaving out a breath and panting as he convulsed awake. His left arm snapped out, grabbing at the thin sheets as his hand finally latched onto the mattress and pulled him off his right arm. It twisted out from under him and he felt the blood rush through it, sending a wave of pins and needles through his skin.
Dolcetto shook, looking around and continuing to swallow down heavy breaths of air as he took in the small Resembool house room. It was dark. The moon was shining through the window past the bed. He could hear Martel breathing on the bed above him, from where he lay on a spare mattress laid out on the ground. The white labs were gone. So were the scientists. …they’d never been there to begin with, of course. …it’d just been a dream…—
He looked down, grabbing at his right arm and wincing as it throbbed. It hurt to the touch, but it wasn’t broken. He could barely make out the thin scar that lined his inner elbow. “…” Swallowing, he rubbed at his face and forced his breathing to slow. He sat up enough to peer onto the bed. Martel was still sound asleep… and he could see the white bandage lining her neck. “…”
The chimera gradually laid back down and stared into the ceiling over him, hugging his right arm absently to his chest and brushing his fingers against the elbow. As his breathing finally began to right itself, he became aware of the sweat on his brow and the fact that his hands were still shaking.
…damnit… He pressed his jaws together, swallowing again and forcing his eyes closed. That was two now. Two nightmares in the same week. So close together. And one had damn near been fatal. It’d been almost five years…would… they ever stop? …before they got…worse…
Requested Drabble — Waiting Game
Prompt: Alt!Dol and Martel trying for a baby, but not having luck and are beginning to have doubts.
"… it’s been almost a year, Dol…"
Her voice was quiet. Hesitant. And he knew it was because they were words that the two of them had been thinking, but neither were quite willing to put them into the air. Dolcetto opened his eyes and stared into the ceiling. The early morning sun had nearly reached the wall and the shadows from the bookshelves, book piles and small model rockets had become rather small, and the room was bathed in soft yellow light. Little specs of dust floated in the rays that reached through the windows and for a split second he questioned how long it’d been since he gave the tiny apartment a proper dusting. But the thought was forgotten almost as quickly as it’d come. She spoke again. “…do. …do you think, maybe.. that time?…”
"… I … I don’t know that there’s any way to really tell, Marta." He felt her hand close against his bare chest as he turned his head to look down at her. Her face was ducked away from him so he couldn’t see her eyes or mouth, just her blonde hair and the single long strand that never seemed to be satisfied with where it fell in front of her face. "Not… now, anyway." Then quieter, more reluctantly. "…we have to wait."
Requested Drabble - Safe & Sound
Prompt: Dol comforts Genevieve after a nightmare
Any other night, it would have taken him a few hours after lying down to finally drift off into even a light sleep. But the soothing cries of the Resembool loons in the distance had easily reached his ears just after nightfall, and he’d quickly been lulled into a sound sleep. So sound, that he didn’t hear Genevieve come through the bedroom door and make her way to the bed; his eyes opened when he felt the bed sheets shift and caught the tiny sounds of sniffles and whimpers.
Dolcetto lifted his head, inhaling a little as he blinked and turned himself enough to see over his shoulder without waking Martel, who was sleeping with her head tucked against his chest and her arms wove around his middle. The toddler stood at the head of the bed, her stuffed bear hugged tightly against her. Her bottom lip was quivering and every few seconds her little chest would hitch with her breath. Dolcetto’s expression fell as her composure sank in and he dared to rotate a little more towards her, loosening his arms around Martel’s back.
"… mmnGenevieve? …what is it? What’s wrong?"
Magic!Anon Drabble - A Time when We Must all let go the Breath that We Hold
Prompt: For one hour, without any harm coming to him, the nest, or his family…Dolcetto gets to see and speak with his mother.
There had only been a few times in his life when he’d ran into someone’s arms. The sprint had been almost blind and for a moment he thought he lost control over his legs. And by the way she all but collapsed against him and pulled him to the ground with her, she must have, too. He allowed his legs to give way under him and crumbled to his knees, heaving out a shaken breath as her surprisingly strong arms wrapped around his back and held his head against her shoulder for the first time in almost twenty years.
Dolcetto opened his eyes and tilted his head up a little. They were lying on the couch for the routine afternoon nap and rest period. Genevieve had been lying across his chest with her head tucked just under his chin. He must have started to doze off because now she was sitting up with her arms propped on his collar and her eyes staring curiously down at him. “…mm?”
"…why… why doesn’t …you haf …fuzzies?"
The chimera blinked and squinted his eyes a little in confusion.
"… whatd’ya mean, Genevieve?"
She let out a frustrated little huff, clearly irritated that he was too vacant to understand what she so obviously meant. The toddler grunted as she pushed herself up, scooting a little further up his chest until she could reach out and let her palm plant itself on his brow line. “Fuzzies!”
"… uh. Because… I don’t."
"Did Unca Geed take’m?"
Dolcetto snorted softly, reaching up and gently pulling her hand away from his eyes. “No, kid. Uncle Greed didn’t take m’eyebrows.”
"…is ‘e gon take my fuzzies?"
"There y’go. …and no. No, he ain’t. Now lie down ‘n go t’sleep or you’ll be grumpy t’night. And y’know it makes mom sad when you’re grumpy. Uncle Doc, too."
She huffed and let herself flop over so she half lay on him and half lay against the back of the couch. He quickly adjusted an arm to nudge her back onto his chest before folding them behind his head and closing his eyes again.
"Where …did th’go?…"
"… go t’sleep, Genevieve."