FIC: DOGS prompt responses
Another collection of short responses to prompts from nyah to get my brain working.
Fandom: DOGS/DOGS: Bullets and Carnage
Ratings: PG-13 to R
Pairings: Quite the grab bag.
Genre: Pretty much the lot!
Disclaimer: I own nothing and nobody, sir, all charges must be dropped.
Feedback: Would be not only the icing on the cake, but the very CAKE ITSELF.
Cross-posted to bulletsxcarnage and dogs_manga, sorry if you see it twice.
Mess
Badou is still laughing, broken and hysteric. Legs splayed, Haine is sitting in the deluge, waiting for his pelvis to un-shatter. He tilts his head back, and realizes that the ceiling is the only remotely blood-free surface in the room.
Stay
“Sit. Speak. Stay. Roll over!”
Haine rolls over [and punches Badou in the face].
Upward
“They’re useless,” he shrugs, leaning back on the pew and taking a drag. Naota doesn’t respond, still watching Nil’s wings flutter as she sweeps. She seems antiquated and angelic, a walking respite from this dirty dead end future. Maybe they’re not so useless, after all.
Moves
“That would never work in real life,” complains Badou. Haine shushes him, but the redhead persists. “Come on man, are you fucking serious? Look at his fucking teeth. I don’t care how suave his moves are, a girl like that would never screw him. He doesn’t need a girlfriend anyway, he needs a fucking orthodontist.”
Marginal
When he’s nervous, he’s a blur of movement. His hands are gesticulating as he talks, his cigarette slashing through the air like a paintbrush on a canvas. Naota waits over fifteen minutes as he asks her out for a cup of coffee, to which she responds succinctly, “Alright.”
You
Haine can’t explain it, can’t even articulate it to himself. The one time he tries, Badou makes an exasperated noise and asks if he should just give himself the blowjob.
Tear
It’s an ugly, wet noise that doesn’t go away. People think when Haine sleeps, the sounds of gunfire and screaming ring in his ears. No; when Haine sleeps, it’s to the lullaby of flesh being ripped from the bone, and the snap of hungry jaws.
Universal
“I like to think the gesture is pretty much universal,” says Badou, trying not to trip over his jeans. Haine wonders briefly if they should be mooning people from the stain-glass windows of a church.
Written
The mass responds dutifully to the Bishop’s readings as one creature, with many mouths and even more numerous sins. Nil hopes that what is written will save them, and save them soon.
Wisdom
“The best advice I ever got,” says Badou very gravely, slurring ever so slightly, “was to rinse…. and repeat.” Haine laughs so hard Badou’s neighbours start beating on the wall.
Attentions
“It’s creepy,” dismisses Haine, flatly. “He’s just another fucking pervert,” shrugs Badou. Naota frowns and mummers “That doesn’t make it right.” When they all leave, however, Nil twirls in her pretty dress, and preens happily under The Bishop’s compliments.
Stuff
It’s an awkward moment. “What are you doing?” rasps Badou, looking groggy and faintly terrified. “…Stuff,” mumbles Haine, hands still caught in Badou’s hair. He carefully doesn’t look at the half finished braid lying on Badou’s shoulder.
Consideration
After a short conference of heated whispering, Badou, their designated spokesman, turns back to Granny and says, “We’ll think about it.” Haine grunts, and Badou says, “We will definitely get back to you.” Haine grunts again, and Badou groans and puts his head in his hands. “We’ll take it,” he mutters wearily.
Trivial
“What’s your problem, asshole?” snaps the blonde on his mattress, half undressed, make-up smeared. “You can go for fucking cigarettes after you finish what you fucking started.” Her voice is grating on Badou’s frayed last nerve, and he can’t help but laugh. She has no fucking idea what she started.
Imaginary
He’s never played kickball, or hide and seek. He’s never touched a fucking lump of play-doh in his life, either. Badou looks at Haine out of the corner of his eye; he’s like a ghost, coming and going, haunting when he pleases. The redhead grins; at least he’s gotten the chance to have an imaginary friend.
Inclination
“What do you think about cocks?” The redhead crunches into his burrito messily, and considers. “Good for writing your name in the snow. Glad m’not Jewish.” It wasn’t the answer Haine was expecting, but it was something, anyway.
Mildly
“So I take it you’re a bit upset,” says Badou. Naota presses her blade closer to Badou’s adam’s apple, which bobs. “Yes,” she replies. “Mildly.”
Bothering
“I spy with my little eye something without any pigment.”
“It’s me.”
“I spy with my little eye something else without any pigment.”
“Badou.”
“I spy with my little eye something else without any-”
“I think I might choke you.”
Lesbian
It’s bad enough when he and Haine get mistaken for a gay couple. Badou grinds a cigarette into the ash tray, and waits for Naota to stop laughing. Yeah, being mistaken for a lesbian couple with that stalker-bitch is definitely worse.
Wing
When they walk, the Bermuda triangle stretches out between them. Naota knows better than to trespass into that off-limits territory. Haine will just glower at her with those demon-eyes full of revulsion, and Badou will huff a jagged line of smoke and give her that shit-eating grin, as if he knows her. Flying solo has always been her thing, anyway.
Slick
“It’s a slippery slope to damnation!” says the Bishop cheerfully. “I’d love to push you down it.” Badou agrees to stop filching the blood of Christ.
Protein
“Disgusting,” she mutters distastefully. “You know that’s full of rat poison and ammonia?” The redhead shrugs, grinning amiably. “Need to get my protein somewhere.”
Components
He isn’t sure how long they’ve known each other [weeks bleed into months so easily these days]. Still, Haine feels as if he doesn’t know the beginning of what Badou is. He’s tried to break it down like a chemical equation, but its as if Badou is made up of nothing but catalysts.
Integrity
The coffee is cold and tastes a little like chalk, but Haine drinks it anyway. Badou is laughing, talking about his latest PI job. “-and then, get this, the woman in the red heels and tights leads out this fucking pig from the bathroom-”
“Like a real pig?”
“Like a real pig.”
Racial
“I’m just saying, you don’t have any black friends.” Haine makes a frustrated sound, aiming and emptying his gun into the nearest soft belly. “I don’t have any friends but you, you fucking moron.” His partner aims too, responding triumphantly, “Well, I’m not black either. So there you go.”
Fandom: DOGS/DOGS: Bullets and Carnage
Ratings: PG-13 to R
Pairings: Quite the grab bag.
Genre: Pretty much the lot!
Disclaimer: I own nothing and nobody, sir, all charges must be dropped.
Feedback: Would be not only the icing on the cake, but the very CAKE ITSELF.
Cross-posted to bulletsxcarnage and dogs_manga, sorry if you see it twice.
Mess
Badou is still laughing, broken and hysteric. Legs splayed, Haine is sitting in the deluge, waiting for his pelvis to un-shatter. He tilts his head back, and realizes that the ceiling is the only remotely blood-free surface in the room.
Stay
“Sit. Speak. Stay. Roll over!”
Haine rolls over [and punches Badou in the face].
Upward
“They’re useless,” he shrugs, leaning back on the pew and taking a drag. Naota doesn’t respond, still watching Nil’s wings flutter as she sweeps. She seems antiquated and angelic, a walking respite from this dirty dead end future. Maybe they’re not so useless, after all.
Moves
“That would never work in real life,” complains Badou. Haine shushes him, but the redhead persists. “Come on man, are you fucking serious? Look at his fucking teeth. I don’t care how suave his moves are, a girl like that would never screw him. He doesn’t need a girlfriend anyway, he needs a fucking orthodontist.”
Marginal
When he’s nervous, he’s a blur of movement. His hands are gesticulating as he talks, his cigarette slashing through the air like a paintbrush on a canvas. Naota waits over fifteen minutes as he asks her out for a cup of coffee, to which she responds succinctly, “Alright.”
You
Haine can’t explain it, can’t even articulate it to himself. The one time he tries, Badou makes an exasperated noise and asks if he should just give himself the blowjob.
Tear
It’s an ugly, wet noise that doesn’t go away. People think when Haine sleeps, the sounds of gunfire and screaming ring in his ears. No; when Haine sleeps, it’s to the lullaby of flesh being ripped from the bone, and the snap of hungry jaws.
Universal
“I like to think the gesture is pretty much universal,” says Badou, trying not to trip over his jeans. Haine wonders briefly if they should be mooning people from the stain-glass windows of a church.
Written
The mass responds dutifully to the Bishop’s readings as one creature, with many mouths and even more numerous sins. Nil hopes that what is written will save them, and save them soon.
Wisdom
“The best advice I ever got,” says Badou very gravely, slurring ever so slightly, “was to rinse…. and repeat.” Haine laughs so hard Badou’s neighbours start beating on the wall.
Attentions
“It’s creepy,” dismisses Haine, flatly. “He’s just another fucking pervert,” shrugs Badou. Naota frowns and mummers “That doesn’t make it right.” When they all leave, however, Nil twirls in her pretty dress, and preens happily under The Bishop’s compliments.
Stuff
It’s an awkward moment. “What are you doing?” rasps Badou, looking groggy and faintly terrified. “…Stuff,” mumbles Haine, hands still caught in Badou’s hair. He carefully doesn’t look at the half finished braid lying on Badou’s shoulder.
Consideration
After a short conference of heated whispering, Badou, their designated spokesman, turns back to Granny and says, “We’ll think about it.” Haine grunts, and Badou says, “We will definitely get back to you.” Haine grunts again, and Badou groans and puts his head in his hands. “We’ll take it,” he mutters wearily.
Trivial
“What’s your problem, asshole?” snaps the blonde on his mattress, half undressed, make-up smeared. “You can go for fucking cigarettes after you finish what you fucking started.” Her voice is grating on Badou’s frayed last nerve, and he can’t help but laugh. She has no fucking idea what she started.
Imaginary
He’s never played kickball, or hide and seek. He’s never touched a fucking lump of play-doh in his life, either. Badou looks at Haine out of the corner of his eye; he’s like a ghost, coming and going, haunting when he pleases. The redhead grins; at least he’s gotten the chance to have an imaginary friend.
Inclination
“What do you think about cocks?” The redhead crunches into his burrito messily, and considers. “Good for writing your name in the snow. Glad m’not Jewish.” It wasn’t the answer Haine was expecting, but it was something, anyway.
Mildly
“So I take it you’re a bit upset,” says Badou. Naota presses her blade closer to Badou’s adam’s apple, which bobs. “Yes,” she replies. “Mildly.”
Bothering
“I spy with my little eye something without any pigment.”
“It’s me.”
“I spy with my little eye something else without any pigment.”
“Badou.”
“I spy with my little eye something else without any-”
“I think I might choke you.”
Lesbian
It’s bad enough when he and Haine get mistaken for a gay couple. Badou grinds a cigarette into the ash tray, and waits for Naota to stop laughing. Yeah, being mistaken for a lesbian couple with that stalker-bitch is definitely worse.
Wing
When they walk, the Bermuda triangle stretches out between them. Naota knows better than to trespass into that off-limits territory. Haine will just glower at her with those demon-eyes full of revulsion, and Badou will huff a jagged line of smoke and give her that shit-eating grin, as if he knows her. Flying solo has always been her thing, anyway.
Slick
“It’s a slippery slope to damnation!” says the Bishop cheerfully. “I’d love to push you down it.” Badou agrees to stop filching the blood of Christ.
Protein
“Disgusting,” she mutters distastefully. “You know that’s full of rat poison and ammonia?” The redhead shrugs, grinning amiably. “Need to get my protein somewhere.”
Components
He isn’t sure how long they’ve known each other [weeks bleed into months so easily these days]. Still, Haine feels as if he doesn’t know the beginning of what Badou is. He’s tried to break it down like a chemical equation, but its as if Badou is made up of nothing but catalysts.
Integrity
The coffee is cold and tastes a little like chalk, but Haine drinks it anyway. Badou is laughing, talking about his latest PI job. “-and then, get this, the woman in the red heels and tights leads out this fucking pig from the bathroom-”
“Like a real pig?”
“Like a real pig.”
Racial
“I’m just saying, you don’t have any black friends.” Haine makes a frustrated sound, aiming and emptying his gun into the nearest soft belly. “I don’t have any friends but you, you fucking moron.” His partner aims too, responding triumphantly, “Well, I’m not black either. So there you go.”