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falloutkinkmeme_backup ([personal profile] falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm

Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

Welcome to the Fallout Kink Meme, Part IV! Please assume the position.

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Re: Dean Domino/self-pity (1/1)

(Anonymous) 2012-02-21 04:04 am (UTC)(link)
Dean stared at himself in the mirror; cloud residue coated the glass, putting his reflection through a red filter. He wished he could blame the distortion for what he was seeing, but there was no denying it, something was definitely wrong. Sure, he hadn’t been feeling well, but that was to be expected in this new atmosphere. He never expected he’d feel one-hundred-percent when he decided to stay in the Sierra Madre, but he didn’t think he’d start to die. The funny thing was he didn’t feel like he was dying. He felt sick, sure, but he wasn’t even incapacitated. A little nausea, a few headaches and sporadic dizziness, no big deal, this felt like drunkenness, not death, but he looked… deathly. His hair was falling out, skin drying up and peeling off in places, he was almost afraid to take off his sunglasses. As long as he couldn’t see his own eyes, he could pretend it wasn’t himself he saw decaying before him. He felt a knot tighten in his stomach, and shifted where he stood, leaning on the sink. He didn’t even want to think about what he’d look like naked. His looks had never been much of a topic of interest. Sure, he was an entertainer, and he’d always made sure to look his best, but it was never a problem, or something he had to worry about. Now… who would hire him, now? What if his limbs fell off on stage? What if he doubled over and vomited out his organs? Even worse, what if nobody recognized him? He certainly didn’t recognize himself, and that was the scariest thought of all.

He reached up to touch what was left of his hair, pressing it against his skull as if that would somehow secure its place there. When he lifted his fingers, a patch came off in his hand. He looked at it for a moment and then laughed dryly. He smiled humorlessly to himself as he grabbed the bottle of scotch on the table next to his chair and brought it quickly to his raw lips. Taking a long drink, he slid down against the wall until he was sitting on the floor, taking some of the wallpaper with him. It was peeling, cracking, just as he was, poisoned by the Sierra Madre. This wasn’t the expensive sort of hotel room he was used to, the sort of safety he’d always taken for granted. He missed his hair, his audience, a soft bed… He turned away from it, staring instead at a spot on the wall opposite him and taking another drink. His attempt to get his mind off of it failed-who was he kidding? It’s not as if anyone was even around anymore for him to impress. The thought made him highly uncomfortable and he chased the feeling away with another swill. He clenched his teeth, no, he’d made his decision. He would have his revenge at any cost, and as devastating as this whole thing was, it was a small price to pay for the feeling of satisfaction he knew he’d gain once he stepped through those casino doors. Hell, it was a small price to pay for being alive, for retaining his faculties, at least for now. The Ghost People didn’t have as much, anyway.

But what if he was dying? It wasn’t too far-fetched a thought. He wasn’t sure if he was afraid of death, but he was afraid it would come before he finally got a chance to gut the vault. That’s what the determination was for, but what if it wasn’t enough? His determination wasn’t keeping his hair attached to his head, his focus wasn’t keeping his face from falling off, so what if it couldn’t keep death away either? The thought was unnerving, and he had to swallow it with the scotch. It’s not as if it mattered if he knew. He didn’t, and he wouldn’t until it happened, or didn’t happen. It’s not as if he had a choice. Sure, he could leave the Sierra Madre, but for all he knew it could be the safest place in the world. He wasn’t an idiot, he saw the bombs, and he wasn’t about to go trekking away from the only place he knew for sure he could survive, away from his ambitions. No, he had to stay. Everything pointed to it. Whether he was dying or not, the Sierra Madre was his home, now, and he was going to stay.

Re: Dean Domino/self-pity (1/1)

(Anonymous) 2012-02-21 07:39 am (UTC)(link)
This gave me chills. Fantastic!

Re: Dean Domino/self-pity (1/1)

(Anonymous) 2012-02-22 03:00 am (UTC)(link)
Author!anon it's safe to say that this is a beautiful fill and I enjoyed every last bit of it.

Re: Dean Domino/self-pity (1/1)

(Anonymous) 2012-02-26 10:16 am (UTC)(link)
OP here - this is wonderful! Absolutely spot-on Dean. I can't decide what part is my favorite, the entire last paragraph or: Even worse, what if nobody recognized him?

Re: Dean Domino/self-pity (1/1)

(Anonymous) 2012-04-26 11:41 am (UTC)(link)
This is wonderful! Your attention to detail is great, and I esp. enjoyed the line about his sunglasses. Thanks for posting. C:

Re: Dean Domino/self-pity (1/1)

(Anonymous) 2015-06-28 01:41 am (UTC)(link)
This was a great snapshot; felt so Dean!