rare hunter

dementedduelist: There was a small wince, and the boy shut his eyes. He had been determined not to...

Sat, 12 May 2012 18:29:37 -0400

There was a small wince, and the boy shut his eyes. He had been determined not to look at his wound. He’d always had a pension for the dramatic when it came to shit like this. Seeing the damage would only make it all the more present in his thoughts. And he certainly didn’t want to go through another night like he had. He inhaled slowly, if not with some pain.

He didn’t speak in response to the Don’s threat immediately. He knew he wasn’t being completely honest with his master, but he didn’t quite care to explain the situation with the two Millennium Rods. Truth be told, the thought of it terrified him. He had no desire to ever experience anything like the duel between their power over him again. He would gladly endure a thousand gunshot wounds in exchange. Unfortunately, he knew, that wasn’t a guarantee. Now that Zorc knew that Jou’s loyalty in Malik was faulty, completely dependent on the strength of will that the wielder of the Millennium Rod had. And the servant had certainly spotted the look in the god’s eye. He was marked for ownership. There was a damn good chance that he would return for him eventually. He suppressed a shiver at that thought.

Finally, knowing that suspicion would arise if he remained silent, he inclined his head in what was his best attempt at a nod, and rasped with effort, “I will always follow the Millennium Rod, Master.”

“You think I’m thick, Dog?” His smile was wry as the blonde spoke those words, and the Don’s eyes were like a hawk’s, burning down at the crippled body before him as he released the fabric and moved back from the wound and its owner. “I know exactly where your loyalties lie.” He hummed, getting to his feet. “But this is a threat from me. And the Rod. If you dare disobey me? That is to say I, the holder of the Rod, the Rod’s master…”

He held it out as if to emphasize his words, his eyes flicking to it momentarily. “It’ll be on your head.” He slowly and carefully got to his feet, feeling the intense pain in his left leg and wincing slightly, trying his best to mask the weakness by turning away from his puppet.

“I did not punish you nearly as much as I should. I could have killed you just as easily as I shot you. But I didn’t. Remember that. I spared your life. If you were to die, you would have no such Rod to follow.”

necrophadesoftheshadows: rare-hunter replied to your post: . omg thank you SO MUCH ((I won’t be on...

Sat, 12 May 2012 14:29:15 -0400

necrophadesoftheshadows:

rare-hunter replied to your post: .

omg thank you SO MUCH

((I won’t be on it nearly as much as this one but I’ll definitely play around with it ~ this one really is my baby, after all. But you know, if you have any suggestions for names, let me know. 83))

OF COURSE, I wouldn’t expect you to just abandon Zorc. But it means a lot that you’re making him. c: ))

dementedduelist: “Magic, my master. I was held under a different influence, one that overpowered...

Sat, 12 May 2012 14:27:58 -0400

dementedduelist:

“Magic, my master. I was held under a different influence, one that overpowered the Millennium Rod.” He shivered a bit at the memory. It had not been an enjoyable one. “I was forced to serve under Zorc Necrophades, the Dark One, for twenty-four hours. His first order was for my honesty.” He wheezed a moment, having to struggle to speak clearly for his master. There was a light shift as he changed positions and sucked in his breath through his teeth.

“The second was for me to bring his servants to him to rescue him. I could not refuse, but I told them that the moment they came within the vicinity of the warehouse, I would leave them to return to you.”

He stopped, frowning up at his master, eyes cast downwards in respect. “I had no motive other than to serve you.”

Malik listened with a surprising patience for him. Perhaps it wasn’t patience; perhaps it was merely focus. He seemed to be listening and processing every single world his Dog said, his brows slowly knitting together. After the final words were spoken, he shifted somewhat on his seat and folded his arms over his chest, tilting his chin up just a fraction to look down at him with a familiar, begrudging stubbornness.

“I see.”

After a few moments further, he took a breath and began to mutter, quietly. “You’re telling the truth. You certainly did… return to my side the moment I saw you.” More than anything, he seemed to be voicing his own thoughts; he was making a comment, not a question. He sighed.

“And I daresay that wound’ll last long enough to serve as a reminder that if you dare betray me again, I will slaughter you like a pig. Am I understood, Dog?” He pulled his chair forward a fraction, before reaching his hands out to slip the boy’s t-shirt up a fraction to examine the wound and bandaging below it. Study it. See if it looked satisfactory. Having men out of action was inconvenient, he needed this one back on his feet as soon as possible.

He’d simply have to display more of that peculiar patience, for the time being.

dementedduelist: Of course he had already heard this explanation, but he dared not interrupt his...

Tue, 08 May 2012 17:17:18 -0400

dementedduelist:

Of course he had already heard this explanation, but he dared not interrupt his master as he spoke. In fact, he listened with rapt attention, keeping the hollow eyes on him the entire time. Once, he had to hiss and change positions, as the way he had lolled his head was causing a certain kink in his neck. But otherwise, he was as attentive as a soldier in attention.

When the last statement was fired in the air, lingering like sulfur, Jounouchi frowned. He had been waiting for this, of course. And although he was completely ready to accept death or any other type of pain, he wondered what else Malik could want to do after shooting him in the stomach.

“…Yes, Master. I did.” He did not explain himself. Not before his master asked for an explanation. Any time before, and it would be grovelling. Jou did not grovel.

“Why?”

His question was straight to the point, and to be expected. He focused a steady, purple gaze on his slave which was impenetrable and sour. He was not best pleased, to say the least. He began to calmly drum his fingertips on the knee of his good leg, frowning.

“What reason did you have? What motive?” Translated: What did Mal have to compete with.

He leaned back, resting on the spine of the chair and reclining a little to try and relax his body from the pain in his left thigh. It would go away, eventually. He was sure. He was merely impatient with it as of now.

dementedduelist: Jounouchi was concentrating on one thing: not screaming. And at certain aspects of...

Mon, 07 May 2012 16:58:51 -0400

dementedduelist:

Jounouchi was concentrating on one thing: not screaming. And at certain aspects of the seemingly endless night, he came very close to breaking that vow. But the worst of the pain eventually passed, and he was at least able to relax enough to do what he did best: go blank. He let his mind empty, his emotions drain, and soon he had convinced his will that his pain was secondhand. Pain was breathing. Pain was blinking. It was a natural part of life.

So when his master called for him, he was relatively calm. He had been laying on his back, staring at the ceiling, one arm across his bandaged abdomen. He turned his gaze to Marik when the Don entered the room, deadpanned with hollow eyes focusing on his tanned form. Jou looked perfectly well, and it was only up close that one would be able to note his shallow breathing, or the sweat that was glistening his skin, or the way his face twitched in pain every so often.

With a swallow, and a voice with a slight tremor, he answered the call. “Y…yes, Master?”

Moving inside and closing the door behind him, the teen focused quietly on the man on the bed, lips drawn into a thin line of displeasure, eyes moving in the same direction. To a certain extent, he was a good leader. He understood the basics that if one of his men was down, it was costly to his whole team. He had a certain duty, therefore, to ensure his ‘family’ was in good health. Even if he did it in a cold, selfish way.

“How are you feeling?” Was the first thing he said as he moved over, drawing up a chair to sit next to the bed and rest his injured leg with a hiss of satisfaction as the pressure was lifted off it. “I spoke to a medic. They say there’s not much more that can be done for your wound-” The wound he was so obviously dismissing as not his fault even though he was the one who fired the bullet, ”- other than not put it under stress. You are to remain here until you are ready to move, and even then, you must not over exert yourself. Am I clear?”

Without waiting for any sort of acknowledgement or go ahead, he leaned back and frowned at him.

“You betrayed me.”

Malik had never been very good at handling pain. He simply didn’t have a high pain threshold,...

Mon, 07 May 2012 16:31:26 -0400

Malik had never been very good at handling pain. He simply didn’t have a high pain threshold, and the bullet in his left thigh, though removed by now, had left a nasty wound that was causing him to limp, badly. He tried to ignore it and, of course, kept a brave face in front of his small mafia, but inside, he was hurting. But he knew it must’ve been nothing compared to what the Dog was going through. Quietly, he made his way towards the boy’s room. Where he had so kindly chosen to accomodate him.

He wasn’t going to comfort him. Far from it. He had a bone to pick, of course, and he hadn’t fully punished the boy as far as he’d like to. There were stern words to be had.

The seventeen-year-old limped, stubbornly, down the corridor, and shouldered his way into the blonde’s room. “Dog. Are you here?”

Dog.

Sun, 06 May 2012 18:27:25 -0400

Dog.

H E I S T (cagedingold, dementedduelist, albino-host, necrophadesoftheshadows)

Sun, 06 May 2012 18:07:23 -0400

cagedingold:

necrophadesoftheshadows:

dementedduelist:

The silence stretched out. Jounouchi could have been sitting there, on his knees, for hours. He had no idea. Then, suddenly, Pain raised its voice. It screamed into his ear viciously.

Failed.

He had failed.

His order had not been fulfilled—couldn’t be fulfilled, and his mind would shut down. Not only that, but the sound of blood falling from his hands and dripping onto the floor pounded into his eardrums just the same as Agony. Die, he begged silently to his wretched body. End this. He crumpled to the floor completely, curling into a fetal position as he choked, some of the blood rising in his throat and trickling down a corner of his mouth.

Yet, through the voice of Torment, something broke through.

I forbid you to die here.

For the first time ever in his slavery, Jounouchi tugged on his chains of obedience. Forbidden to die? WHY? Why couldn’t he die? Why couldn’t this end? Tears fell freely now, but these were tears of grief. He could taste death on his lips, and he craved it. Yet, the order overcame the lust he felt. This time, however, he knew the feeling of obligation was overtaking him against his will. He knew, yet he could not break free of it. So, with a particularly hard sob—one that sent even more Hurt up his body from the convulsion it caused, he forced himself away from the dream of death. He focused on life, blurred vision trying to reassess his situation.

The shooting had stopped, and… his current master was looking at him. He blinked, trying to clear his sight. Words were being said, and he was gestured to, but Pain was ever the deafening sound. He couldn’t hear, and he found it pointless to listen, anyway. He focused on keeping the stars that were dimming his vision away from his mind. Lest the sweet, sweet darkness come, and take him far from here…

…. The human had guts.

He stared the boy - no, he had earned the right to be called a man now - down, eyes narrowed. … Freedom for the boy. The boy that he had just lent some of his power to - that had intrigued him. Freedom… for him.

He wanted the possessed human, though. He wanted that absolute obedience for his own. For that matter, he wanted the human that had ordered the capture in the first place - this brazen brat that was so filled with shadows that he could feel it even when he was at his weakest. He wanted all of them.

………….

And who said he couldn’t have them? Perhaps when he was at full power again…

But that was a thought for another time. The most important thing was to be released. Now.

“… We will go,” he agreed. His eyes shone in the darkness - he did not blink. “You will stay away from us. You will make sure we have safe passage - and you will not send anyone to tail us. If you do, we will know. I will know.” His lip curled slightly.

“Thief. Come to My side, at once.”

There was no time to dodge and no place to dodge to; if he did, the bullets would hit his god. Bakura could do nothing as the bullets jerked his body, one in his shoulder—one in his chest, in his heart—one in his gut. He would have fallen to his knees if he didn’t know the consequences from Zorc. He would have died, had he been alive, but his heart was nothing but a hunk of Shadowy muscle now; it didn’t even beat. So he simply stood there, shouting with each impact and wildly firing back at the men, determined not to move until all of them were dead.

But unexpectedly came Malik’s order. When the ceasefire was commanded, Bakura obeyed, out of curiosity rather than deference. The boy… saw logic? Was this a trick? His enemies rarely saw the error of their ways, at least as long as their soul was intact. It must be because the boy was injured, had seen how terrible his punishment was going to be if he persisted. Despite the mind-numbing pain wracking Bakura’s body, the King of Thieves grinned triumphantly, viciously.

At Zorc’s words, Bakura backed up and stood at the god’s side, the very picture of a model guard if not for the streams and bursts of crimson that flowed from the holes puncturing his body. The pain had not yet hit him. But he’d managed to survive, standing, until the gunfight was over. He was triumphant. They’d won their way. His service to Zorc was acceptable and he had done his duty.

His grin softened into a smirk.

When the blonde’s shrieks began, Malik’s attention jerked towards him. His chest was still heaving with adrenaline and pain, but when he saw his puppet writhing, crying, the Egyptian’s face contorted into a grimace. That noise hurt his ears. However, when the God began to speak, he looked back to him, his upper lip curling slightly, distastefully. The beast spoke his terms. Mal hissed.

“Fine. Fine. You two.” He looked up to two of his guards who had survived the onslaught. “Release him.” With his free hand, the one that wasn’t still grasping the Rod like it was a lifeline, he wrenched his key from his neck and tossed it to them. Immediately, they shuffled across the room, apprehension showing on their faces. Evidently unwilling to approach the demon more than was necessary. They released the bindings and backed off as quickly as they could.

With the help of his lackies, Mal limped away from the door, gesturing with a cock of his head for them to leave in due course. He pulled his arms away from his guards, turning his back to the intruders and hissing to a few of his men. “Line the walls. Escort them out. If they try anything, behead them.” His voice was raised barely above a whisper but his aim was not to hide it. It was a direct threat; but one that would only be upheld if both ends of the bargain weren’t.

He stumbled over so that he was on the floor next to his Dog, pulling the blonde head into his lap and beginning to brush the hair out of Jou’s face with dainty, delicate fingers. As though touching a porcelain doll. There was no affection. No passion. Merely discontent. He cooed to him, though. “Puppet. Look at me.” It was still an order, even if his voice was a lower octave, gentle.

No more attention was given to Zorc and his subordinate.

albino-host: [offence taken. hahaha…jk? maybe.] This is pretty...

Sun, 06 May 2012 12:44:04 -0400

albino-host:

[~~offence taken.~~

hahaha…jk? maybe.]

This is pretty inconsiderate.

H E I S T (cagedingold, dementedduelist, albino-host, necrophadesoftheshadows)

Sun, 06 May 2012 11:40:58 -0400

cagedingold:

necrophadesoftheshadows:

dementedduelist:

Jounouchi had no chance to react. Not when his mind was being ripped apart slowly. When the first order was given, he had only to aim the gun and fire. But of course, Malik was faster. The second order stopped him in his tracks, even as pain wrenched through him. He screamed, his coarse, corrupted voice making it sound like nails crawling down a chalkboard. The gun fell from his shaking fingers and he clamped those same fingers over his head. He tore at his roots as he struggled to get a hold of himself.

He didn’t even notice the men enter the room, not until he heard the cock of the shotgun. He looked up, involuntary tears falling down his cheeks as he listened to the words of his master. Dimly, Jou heard the promise of execution. For him.

His only feeling as he heard the gunshot, in the split second before the slug lodged into his stomach, was relief. Surely… surely, this would end the pain.

It didn’t.

He stared, dumbfounded, before falling to his knees. Numbly, he clutched his stomach wound, blood trickling quickly into his fingers. He didn’t die. Nothing had ended. He didn’t even lose consciousness. Not yet, anyway. That would probably come in a moment or two. After his shock wore off, and the terrible agony began. He thought about screaming, but he had no voice. In fact, he had nothing.

So he sat there. On his knees. Staring. His mind was blank, even the Rod made no sounds in his thoughts.

…What now?

… The tides had turned rather quickly.

He watched everything that happened with a rather dull look on his face - even when his captor escaped from the Thief’s grip, even when a mass of humans tore into the room, even when he brought the weapon up again and raised it towards him for a moment.

And then there was that explosion again.

The human that had brought him here in the first place had been hit. He watched, fascinated. It was as if a crimson rose had bloomed from his gut - and petals were falling from it. Falling, falling. Plop plop.

…. There was blood in the air. He breathed in deeply - flexed his arms a bit, pulled against the chains around his wrists. Felt some strength returning to him. Not enough to let him break free from his bonds… but he had never been limited to physical strength, had he?

Zorc reached forward, with the little magic he had regained - reached out to the mind of the boy holding his stomach, fallen to the ground like a puppet who had had his strings cut.

It is not your time to die, boy. I am not the Millennium Rod, but I am the being from which it came. You are not allowed to die here. I forbid you to die here.

There was magic in the boy’s blood - though he did not know it, and could not access it himself. …. This sort of magic would not last very long. But as long as he lived long enough for him to be healed properly - to get them out of here, for Zorc to take him properly as his own servant - that would be enough.

… He could do a little more, but not much. The Thief would have to pull his weight now.

Bakura had dodged the second bullet too, though with difficulty, and he was more or less sure his robes had a new hole to add to their collection.

Killing Malik was important; it was an order. But protecting his god’s body was of course higher on his priorities. Instead of tacking Malik or otherwise taken him by surprise as he shot the slave, Bakura took the opportunity to hurtle himself in front of Zorc. He’d be a human shield if that were what it took. He could not die, simply be hurt and run out of energy; pain was something he could stand. Hence, it barely mattered to him if he got shot. As long as Zorc was protected.

Again he drew his own firearm and shot, first at Malik, then at every other guard who had entered the room, pow pow pow pow pow in as quick a succession as physically possible. At least he no longer had the slave to worry about.

Mal’s eyes focused on Jounouchi for a long time, barely giving any sort of acknowledgement to the damage he had caused, until he saw the boy fall. Then, he felt a twinge. The blonde had been his puppet for a long time; longer than most of his guards. It had been his manipulation with the Rod that had left Jou at its mercy in the first place; the first influence of the Rod’s power which had left him a slave to the item.

And then, he reconsidered.

The boy had made flaws. Dangerous flaws. Flaws that had put all of the Rare Hunters in trouble and that was unforgivable, but… was a merciless action a cost-effective one?

Before he had a chance to think, he let out a shriek. The noise came before his realisation that he had been hit in the leg. Then, his thigh crippled and he stumbled, falling as he felt the power in his left leg give out. Luckily, two of his guards grabbed him, loyal as ever, stopping him from falling. “Stop-” He muttered, quietly, shock preventing him from raising his voice.

He saw two more of his guards go down (poor things, they were new and weren’t used to the gunfire), but the others had been in full blown dogfights before. They were used to it. Not only that, they vastly outnumbered the thief. And most of them were gunmen. They sought cover, in one another, in their bulletproof vests (which, in hindsight, Malik thought that might’ve been a good idea to invest in for himself before he charged down here), and behind shelves. Some opened fire on the man in return, a torrent of bullets flying his way.

Then Malik found his voice.

“STOP! Cease fire!”

Silence.

Malik took a deep breath, glaring at his captive and at the man with a gun, keeping himself as shielded as he could as his chest heaved from the pain in his leg. Shit, that was one more bullet he had to get out. He should have started a record book or something. “Stop.” He repeated, as though for emphasis.

The diplomat in him kicked in, as weak as it was. He stopped speaking to the servant. And this time, spoke to the Master. To his Dragon-Man. To Zorc.

“Let’s… negotiate.” He let out a hoarse, slightly dry chuckle, as his two lackies kept him upright until he found his legs again. “I’ll let you go.” He was a greedy, spoiled child. He was determined. He was vicious. But he wasn’t… stupid. Not quite. He knew when he was beat. And he knew how to get out of it.

“You go. You take your… thing…” He looked pointedly at Bakura, “…with you. And I get to keep my Dog.” He pointed at the bleeding blonde on the floor.

H E I S T (cagedingold, dementedduelist, albino-host, necrophadesoftheshadows)

Sat, 05 May 2012 18:25:06 -0400

cagedingold:

necrophadesoftheshadows:

dementedduelist:

Oh.

Goody.

Now they were going to oppose.

The realization hit him as quickly as the pain. And the pain was something like hitting a wall of bricks while moving ninety miles an hour. He nearly fell to his knees, a wave of nausea running through him. The inner battle of both Items tugged at him in a moment of agony, threatening to rip his very soul in two.

Just as he felt as though they would, however, one Item’s power surged over the other. In the Don’s anger and frustration, he had abandoned his focus on the Rod, whereas the Thief had clearly poured all of his will into this one, single act. The new order won over him, making his choice absolutely clear. Jounouchi could have laughed. Malik, in all of his pathetic claims of ownership over the slave, had forgotten what Jou had been telling him all along: Jounouchi served the Millennium Rod. Not any man.

The pain was excruciating, for despite the fact that one had won over the other, both still continued in their battle. Gritting his teeth, he settled his mind on the only thoughts that mattered, forcing the pain to melt away. His order. Adrenaline took the place of pain. With Malik’s back turned to him, in an almost superhuman speed, he hooked his foot along Malik’s leg to trip him just as he simultaneously grabbed the hand with the gun. He used the momentum to easily pluck the weapon from the tanned hand, and held it in his own firmly as he watched the body tumble to the floor.

Everything had descended into a bit of controlled chaos quickly. There was another shot, and then suddenly the servant human had attacked the captor - so the Thief had brought the Rod with him after all. Good.

His own temper was rising though, a combination of impatience and the headache and dizziness that had come with the blow to the head. Hurry up and finish him, My servant!

This time, Bakura had both the presence of mind and the expectation of the maniac shooting into thin air again. He managed to dodge the second bullet, hatred seeping through his invisible expression as he darted forward again. No sense in being invisible now; it would be harder to be tangible later. Before he could do anything against Malik, though, he saw the slave respond to his orders promptly. Good. Of course he did. Anyone would bow to the will of the King of Thieves above a crazed gang leader, or whatever this man was.

“Shoot him!” he ordered, not bothering to mask his voice in favor of making sure his orders were clear. “Shoot him now, slave!” At the same time, he let himself enter the physical and visible world fully as he circled around Malik and grabbed him from behind in what could best be described as a full-nelson. The Rod he held behind the teen’s head, lowering the pointed end to the base of his neck.

He had not planned on killing the man—given that there was still so much secrecy and mystery surrounding him and how he had acquired the Millennium Rod—but Zorc’s will rang through his head clearly. He thrust the Rod forward, intending to pierce Malik’s neck straight through.

Perhaps Zorc would let him Steal his soul before he died, in order to question him….

Shock showed clearly on Mal’s face as the knee went to his own legs. He had expected, at first, that it was one of the intruders causing him to stumble, but as he fell and felt the Eagle wrenched from his palms, he realised it was his own slave. Tumbling to the floor, staring up at him in all his shirtless, pyjama-bottom glory, the Don’s violet eyes widened. The gun was being pointed… at him?

Three things happened at once.

He heard a yell (‘Shoot him now!’), his hand went to his own waist, pulling out the Rod, and his own voice interrupted. “YOU. WILL. NOT.” The Rod was thrust forward, pointed directly into the eyes of the blonde, his voice reverberating around the basement dungeon; it was the carnation of authority; not to be denied. Forced, oozing, with demand. There was no room for argument.

A moment later, he felt arms around him and he gave a little shriek, but his grip on the Rod only tightened. He felt the sharp blade near his neck.

Shit.

And then, along came his backup. At long fucking last. They burst through the doors, all manner of weapons (from knives, to shotguns, to fucking hand grenades) held out. One of the shotguns was fired directly at his captor, and, even if it did not hit its target, Malik used the opportunity to dive downwards, thrusting himself away from the strong arms.

He rolled forwards and up onto his feet, backing up so that he was near his gang, holding the Rod so tightly that his knuckles were white. His chest was heaving; it only now hit him how close to death he had been in those past few seconds. He had been close to death plenty of times. But nothing prepared someone for that feeling, no matter how many times they had experienced it.

He snatched one of the shotguns off his miniature army, pointing it at the now-corporeal thief, then his hostage, then the slave, in turn. “I’m going to kill every single one of you fuckers. But you first. You’ve given me so much grief.”

The shotgun pointed at Jounouchi’s stomach.

Bang.

BRONY.

Fri, 04 May 2012 19:26:18 -0400

Ahaha, you’re funny, here, let me FUCKING TRAMPLE YOU.

parasite-: “Now, now. Keep that temper down, or you might not get a treat. Would you rather I call...

Fri, 04 May 2012 19:25:09 -0400

parasite-:

“Now, now. Keep that temper down, or you might not get a treat. Would you rather I call you something such as, pretty boy?” he spoke as he ran pale, boney, fingers though the blond hair. It was far from being affectionate, just another way to mock the Egyptian.

“Tapeworm, you’re forgetting one important thing.”

And that was never to stand too close to a pissed off horse.
Hoof raise.
KICK TO THE CROTCH.

Neigh!

Fri, 04 May 2012 19:19:07 -0400

More like ‘nay’.

Fri, 04 May 2012 19:15:43 -0400

parasite-: “And I thought we’d hit it off so wonderfully, brat,” “Keep calling me that,...

Fri, 04 May 2012 19:09:29 -0400

parasite-:

“And I thought we’d hit it off so wonderfully, brat,”

“Keep calling me that, tapeworm. I have four fucking hooves. And all three of them are un-shoed. Do you know how fucking uncomfortable that is on concrete? I am a mafia boss. I practically breathe concrete. WHY THE HELL AM I HALF-BEAST?!”

Rant rant rant rant.

parasite-: rare-hunter replied to your post Joey’s pretty smug about his… /hers/. Mal is...

Fri, 04 May 2012 19:03:20 -0400

parasite-:

rare-hunter replied to your post

Joey’s pretty smug about his… /hers/. Mal is absolutely infuriated.

Oh, man. I missed what Joey got, what was it? Just getting turned into a girl, or?

Parasite muse and I are just gonna sit here and laugh at Mal though.

“I’m going to fucking kill you, cunt. Just… so you know.”

"WHY IS THIS HAPPENING."

Fri, 04 May 2012 18:59:11 -0400

Happy SOON day! FOR THE NEXY 48 HOURS you are a Centaur!!!

Fri, 04 May 2012 18:56:25 -0400

…

I FUCKING HATE HORSES.

I AM GOING TO KICK SOMEONE.

SO HARD.

H E I S T (cagedingold, dementedduelist, albino-host, necrophadesoftheshadows)

Fri, 04 May 2012 14:54:55 -0400

cagedingold:

necrophadesoftheshadows:

dementedduelist:

Jounouchi flinched as not one, but two Millennium Rods ordering him about sent a jolt of pain to his skull. A slave could not serve two masters, as the saying goes, and the slave was certainly paying for the attempt. He shuddered to imagine, even through the throb of his head, what would happen if the two Items actually opposed in their orders. He had told Zorc he would follow the one who wielded with the greatest will, but that was just a theory. For all he knew, it would kill him.

Focusing on his order, rather than the searing pain, he clenched his fists and remained silent. Not only silent, but completely still, lest any movement make the pain worse. He was doing a good job of it, too, until the firing of the gun made him jump. He turned swiftly, wondering if that dreadful presence controlling the Item was gone.

Although, he thought in despair, he rather doubted it.

Seeing the Rod being pointed at him in such an offensive matter made his blood boil, but he held back. It would not be… wise, yet, to act when he did not know the capabilities of the weapon the human held.

And a moment later, the concern he held was justified - more than he could have imagined. The sound was like an explosion in the room - it echoed off the walls and made him wish his hands were free so he could’ve covered his ears. Since when had humans created weapons such as this?!

…. Had the Thief been hit? He would not have been stupid enough, but the shot had been so random that there would have been little time to dodge it - and he was still dizzy from the blow to the head, and could not feel for him. Though the Thief would not die permanently from such a blow, he could still be wounded badly to be ‘killed’ - and Zorc did not have the energy to revive him. For that matter, he was not sure that the Thief was able to either.

You are My greatest servant. I chose you over the all the humans that have existed on this earth - in an endless sea of sand, I picked out a single grain and made it great. You will not fall in front of the likes of this human!

The shot was unexpected.

He truly did not have time to dodge it—foolish of him to leave himself exposed, but how could he have anticipated Malik firing into thin air like a maniac? Unless he could see him—but if so, why would he have shot so wildly and off-target?

The King of Thieves could feel the bullet acutely as it lodged itself into his arm. A few centimeters below the wrist. His eyes bulged. Far-too-familiar fire of pain shot through him, weakening his knees and causing him to nearly drop the Rod clutched firmly in his other hand.

Thank the gods he was left-handed. He would have certainly dropped the Millennium Rod, giving away his position and losing control of the slave, all in one fell swoop.

It ached. It did. But Bakura had lived through far worse—he had managed to suppress any grunts or cries of pain—a superhuman feat, in his own opinion, but hadn’t Zorc himself broken his fingers, tortured his body in various mind-breaking ways through the years? This was nothing. A mere insect bite in comparison.

Bakura jerked, wanting to clamp his hand around the wound, pull out the foreign object—but he knew that would make the damage far worse. He wheeled his head around to direct all this pain and fury at the fool who caused it.

Silent. Still silent. No orders from Zorc yet, except a vague divine will for him to survive if he were shot. H-hah. All right. He would remain in the Shadows. But this had gone far enough.

Slave! he mentally bellowed, pouring this darkness, the pain of the wound seeping blood, the sudden hatred he felt for the enemy of his god, the frustration of feeling useless into the Millennium Rod, which he had to hide under his coat to suppress its glow. Damn it. It had flashed light. Malik surely saw. Take the gun from the one who shot me and turn it against him!

He could easily see the slave’s indecision, but this was the best chance he had at both defending his god and Himself, and getting vengeance for the insult of pointing a weapon at Him.

What the thief could not control, and subsequently what alerted the criminal to his presence, was the fact that there was no sound of metal bullet on wall. No. There was not the familiar clatter as the bullet broke through wall or door after he fired it. There was a very, very faint, somewhat liquid, thud. His eyes widened. Whatever he had just hit, it was animate.

And it was that; not the slave; that allowed the boss to fire again, this time, in exactly the same direction. “COME OUT, YOU CUNT!” He roared, loading the gun again, but this time not firing, giving a moment for the other to reply. “I fucking know you’re there. Stop hiding like a pussy. Fight me.”

Where the fuck was his backup? Why the hell were they taking so long to get to him?

The young leader, who, at that moment, was impossible to identify as being only seventeen, stared into the shadows with a vengeful, infuriated glare of daggers. Quite insane, this one.