HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Rock Lobster

(Everything below is rated T)

Marik flopped back on the sand, letting out an irritated grunt as his head collided with a particularly shop rock he hadn't spotted. A dull thunk greeted his ears as he heard a rude snicker from aside him. The blonde didn't even bother to turn and face the pallid man that was no doubt lying next to him, with a towel draped about his body and over his head, instead of beneath his buttocks like a normal person.

"Shove it, you infernal ass," Marik grumbled, rising up to regard the white haired teen to his right. About a mass of shimmering, hazy white hair was clamped down a towel, causing each strand to curl inwards in a delicate dance of swaying, each pressing inwards to scrape cautiously at a slim cheek, caressing the edges of the sharp-boned face. Hard, stony brown eyes peered from behind snowy lashes, outlining each nick of the lids, and giving an all together odd display of beauty, that happened to continue down a bare neck. Taking note of the bobbing Adam's apple, Marik allowed his eyes to wander lower to the expanse of chest, pricked with goosebumps that made a strange ripple across the other teen's torso. Long, slender arms worked their ways up, causing what small muscle resided upon Bakura's body to stand at attention, ribs evident, as he clasped spindly fingers about the fringes of a faded, destroyed blue blanket.

Bakura quirked a matching white eyebrow, and only the small shimmer from the fading sunlight even gave away its presence. Marik watched as it slowly curved upwards, signaling Bakura's purely questioning gaze, though Marik supposed there was a tinge of scorn.

"Why are we even here?" Bakura complained moodily, words finally escaping his cracked and dry lips. Marik watched them move slowly, forming the words through his accented drawl.

"Because," Marik grumbled impatiently, "Isis got invited to this miserable wreck, and, if I do so recall, it was you who demanded we go because they'd have amazing food." The blonde's own brow curled inwards, as he gave a smug smirk, teeth no doubt glistening in the waning light.

"I thought they'd have steak," Bakura retorted, brown eyes shifting quickly away as he clamped lids over top them, hiding the umber orbs, and giving a type of pout, clearly displeased by being called out.

"You can make all the excuses you want," Marik retorted, curling his knees into his chest, and allowing his swimming trunks to show a bit more thigh. He peeked quickly from his peripheral vision, and noted, with glee, that Bakura was certainly looking as well. For the past few weeks, Marik had been hinting and hinting at the pale man that Marik wanted him as more then a friend.

In so far, he had been unsuccessful.

Marik had pattered the idea around of he asking Bakura out, instead of vice versa, but honestly, Marik happened to enjoy the thought of teasing Bakura into submission. To think, if he could break the proud, cocky Bakura into crumbling his resolve and asking the 'annoying brat' (as he so complained) that was Marik Ishtar - Well, then Marik would have a right good victory, and a boyfriend to boot!

"So, what shall we do?" Marik queried. "We've been sitting here because of your stupid skin," the blonde elaborated, "for about an hour. The sun is going down, though, so we could always go swimming without you turning into a lobster." At the teasing, Bakura bristled, and it seemed as if his already frantic hair reacted to that adjective, giving it the perfect resemblance of the arched spine of a fussy cat.

"Dammit, Ishtar," Bakura rasped, eyes narrowing as he regarded the Egyptian teen. "I will not stand for your teasing."

"Not like there's much you can do about it!" the blonde shot back, smirking as he watched Bakura's cheeks redden with irritation. The usually calm, cold, and unruffled Bakura seemed to turn into a completely different person when Marik was in the near vicinity. To everyone else, it was amusing. To Bakura, it was certainly an ever present migraine waiting to happen.

Standing up slowly, Marik stretched the muscles of his calves, and stretched his hands high into the air, letting his biceps twitch, and his back to arch as he allowed his ass to stick out in the slightest. He noticed Bakura's gaze, yet again, and felt the corners of his mouth tug up again.

"Come swim," Marik demanded, reaching down and plucking the towel from Bakura's insistent grasp. The pale man let out an undignified noise as the cloth was wrenched from his fingers, and he was immediately shone upon with the wrath of the disappearing sun.

Shooting up, Bakura lurched at Marik, who deftly avoided the grasping hands. Maneuvering himself from out of the other teen's reach, Marik quickly spun about, and kicked up sand with his heels.

Tiny grains erupted from the sole of his foot, and he pushed forward, legs pumping as he raced for the water. The towel, a blue blur above his golden hair, was his flag, stealing it from the neighboring, enemy country that was Bakura's.

He heard Bakura racing up behind him, stamping hard as he kicked up grains as well, attempting to catch up with the already well advanced Marik. And, while Marik was stronger, Bakura happened to have longer, slender legs, and was quite adept at speed. Where Marik was superior in brute strength, Bakura made up in agility and speed.

Just as Marik's foot hit the frothing water, his midback was slammed into, and hands were grasping desperately at his chest as he was bowled over, Bakura trailing comically after him. Both slammed down beneath the waves, and salt was attacking their nostrils, burning.

Bakura reemerged first, wet hair plastered against his pale skin, shimmering silver as it clung to each and every cranny of his body. It outlined his small, rounded shoulders, and stuck to it in either clumps or strands, and hid wide brown eyes, as water was spat from between his lips.

Marik came up next, directly underneath Bakura. His back slammed into Bakura's stomach, and he actually hoisted the smaller teen up until Bakura was hanging across Marik like a tiger rug, fingers trailing the water as Marik supported them both.

Bakura received a mouthful of blonde, salty hair, and spluttered more, craning his neck to avoid more. Apparently, deciding this was the perfect moment to crack a joke, Bakura opened salt tinged lips and-

Allowed his words to die in his throat.

Both he and Marik stared forward comically as something rose in the waves in front of them, almost at the same point where the horizon began, and they lost sight of any other types of ocean.

It was an enormous Rock Lobster.

-(-o-)-

I Was a Teenage Monster

Marik slid slowly into the tombs, hand leaving a trailing of dust as the tips of his fingers ran through it. The grimy, caked on exterior was certainly irritating, and Marik knew, later on, his father would demand he go down and clean this disgusting area. After all, they'd just now found the key to this miserable wreck not to long ago.

Slipping a finger into the folds of his tunic, Marik removed a small match, and struck it, holding up the small, snipping flame. He located the torch that was no doubt there, and dropped the match within its cradle, watching the flames shoot, and eat away the dark hungrily.

With a startled pause, Marik noted the small shift in the shadows, from the corner of his eye. His peripheral wasn't strong enough, however, to decipher the true shape, and he quickly whirled about, eyes peering into the gloom.

"Who's there?" Marik demanded. "And how are you even down here?" Marik let that question trail off into the murky air, and he took another step forward. He didn't feel fear, since he didn't really know it. The only person he'd ever feared was his father with a whip in his hand.

"I'm down here," a voice rasped, "since I've been waiting for a tasty morsel such as yourself." Marik gave a slow blink, before squinting his eyes, and stepping forward again, bare feet scuffing the cold, stone floor.

"Who are you?" Marik queried, cocking his head, only true inquisition in his tone as he squinted his eyes further, framing his lavender orbs with blonde lashes.

"I'm a king of the past," the voice stated, before bursting into a wheezing, hacking cough, that sent up a disgusting smell into the air, permeating Marik's breath, and causing the small boy to choke over it.

"Are you sick?" Marik grumbled, clapping a hand over his mouth, and ignoring the other man's obvious attempt at humor. Marik, honestly, couldn't see anything in it to laugh about. "You smell disgusting." The blonde was blunt, and truthful. After all, he knew no other way to be, aside from subdued and scared. But, for this day, with this stranger, he was certainly not.

"I'm not sick," the voice retorted, irritated, and Marik saw the shadows shift, and something came up to the light. "I'm dead." With that proclamation, a haggard face appeared, wrapped solely in bandages that clung to a mishap pen, lumpy face. No blood was pouring from anywhere, but there were numerous wounds speckled across the man's features, showing where previous acts of hatred had been delivered.

"You're dead?" Marik mumbled, confused. He moved closer to the man before him, and reached up hesitant fingers to scrape against the bigger man's hands, which were cracked, and yellowed, wrapped tight about scarred knuckles, and revealing paper thin skin. Marik drifted his appendage upwards, and pressed against the man's wrist.

"Well there is no pulse," the boy commented, craning his neck to regard the man. "So, if you're dead," Marik continued, showing true and clear he had no qualms with talking to a dead man, "who are you for real, and why are you moving?"

"My name is Touzouku-ou," the man above him said slowly, "I am the Thief King, destroyed for my wicked ways."

"Well, Thief King," Marik said abruptly, "I have to clean your whole tomb, so," here, the blonde paused, and gave a vicious smirk, "I will go grab my cleaning supplies, and you will tell me your story."

"Yes," Touzouku-ou mumbled, watching the boy he'd hoped to scare slip from between his rigid fingers, and disappear back out the door. "Yes, I think I will."

-(-o-)-

Thriller

"Mariku, I don't like this," an accented, lilting voice complained as the plucking of cloth was heard. The spiky haired man let out a low, annoyed grunt as he turned to face the pallid boy aside him.

"Look, dammit," Mariku grumbled irritably, "Marik snatched up that pretty little Anzu girl, and we're going to get to eater her. Why are you complaining!"

"Maybe because eating human flesh is quite disgusting," the pale boy retorted primly, eyelids closing as he sniffed, and upturned his sharp, small nose, showing distaste. Mariku let out a low groan, and shifted his eyes back to the front.

"You two just shut the fuck up!" Bakura snapped, digging his nails sharply into the ground. "If that dumbass werewolf doesn't get here soon, I'm going chasing after them!" Grinding his teeth together, Bakura let out a low hiss of disapproval, and peeked around absently.

"Careful," Ryou warned, "your head will fall off again."

"He wants that," Mariku sneered, "so he can have his head resting in Marik's lap again. Bet you're wondering just what that fuzzy cock tastes like!" Ryou swatted at Mariku's arm, and watched as the limb detached itself. "Dammit, Ryou!"

"It's what you deserve for your vulgarity," Ryou snapped back, eying Mariku's appendage, before giving an irate sigh. "Give it to me," the white haired teen demanded, holding out a hand and snapping his fingers into his palm repeatedly, and took Mariku's arm delicately in his hand, and pressed it back to the deceased Egyptian's shoulder.

"While you're teasing me," Bakura grumbled, "why don't you just bend Ryou over and fuck him here? The sexual tension between you two is absolutely stupid. You haven't even kissed yet, though you might as well be married, with how you act!" Both of his zombified companions readily ignored that.

Bakura peered, once more, through the brush. Honestly, it was such a pain getting a meal nowadays! Bakura, Ryou, and Mariku happened to be the only resident zombies, due to a chemical spill near their graves. However, even with that said, when they first awoke and discovered their need to dine on human flesh, it had been quite the shock.

Bakura and Mariku had teamed up, the perfect duo. They'd been ruthless in life, and had often slurped up blood, or bitten a chunk from a person just for show. Now that it was a necessity, it wasn't such a bad thing.

Ryou, of course, had been a different story. He wasn't a pansy about it, but he had a certain dislike for it. The boy wasn't ready to throw away his second chance of life, though, even if it did mean some bits of his body fell off, or his eye sometimes dropped from its socket, and he wasn't allowed to enter a convenience story anymore, unless it was around Halloween time.

None of them cared, and were just ready to live a life again.

This had all changed, of course, when a new flesh eater had stepped onto their city. Much like its name, Domino City, the place itself ran on a chain of Domino effects, much like the one that happened when three teenage boys found themselves resurrected.

The boys had taken to slowly stalking humans, getting used to their new, lethargic bodies. The change hadn't been easy, but slow, hard, and grueling, with losing many pieces, organs falling out, and sometimes vomiting up black, sludge-like blood.

They'd only take adults, and track them down until they got into a small, cornered off alley, where they'd attack the body. Their first few attacks, due to slow movements, had had a lot of struggle, with noise, and alerts. After a month or so, though, with food in their stomachs, and new knowledge of their bodies, they were swift animals of prey.

Soon after, though, a new threat came. A boy by the name of Marik Ishtar.

Marik Ishtar, it turned out, had discovered that he was a werewolf, and was taking it out on the citizens of Domino City. This caused complications for the zombies, for the mere fact that if they cornered a victim, Marik would often swoop down. Victims seemed like an easy thing to come across, but they really weren't. Not many humans went strolling down alleyways for no reason. It just wasn't logical.

After all, it wasn't like they were fucking Edward Cullen, seducing people into following them down a dark alley. Though, reflecting back, even if they did have the appearance of a sexy, live, male, what were the chances that someone would follow them into a darkened area? Honestly!

So, after a while, a pissed off Bakura finally tracked Marik down, and demanded the boy leave their kills alone. Marik merely told Bakura to 'calm his tits', and coaxed the zombie into making an agreement with him. The zombies had agreed, and now they relied on Marik's human appearance to lead meals in to them, since he was a very convincing figure.

Blonde hair, beautiful, caramel skin that made people (namely Bakura) wish to lick him, and savor the taste on their lips. His fingernails were always immaculate, ready, consistently, for the Change that would happen when even the smallest sliver of the moon breached the indigo sky, and brought forth jagged claws, and bared fangs, that looked so out of place until a miniature hairy muzzle sprouted from a smooth featured face, and gave a twisted, demonic, but still humanoid look to the wondrous Egyptian.

"And here comes the devil," Mariku rumbled, looking sideways to Ryou as, indeed, a striking young figure was making his way down the road, laughing all the while. A nice, busty girl was walking along beside him, grinning also as she told a story. She stayed a nice distance from Ishtar, and she had her short brown hair bobbed back into a ponytail, that waggled around a delicious looking neck.

"So, Ishtar," the girl finally breathed, "can I sit next to you in Math? You seem to have a good deal on it." With a decisive nod, the girl gave a brilliant smile, and looked at Marik, hands going to her jean clad hips.

"Well, Anzu, I suppose when you ask in such a sweet way," Marik drawled, "I think I'm going to have to turn you down. After all, here in about a few minutes, I don't think you'll be needing much help with math."

"What do you mean?" Anzu queried, brows furling inwards as she decreased her walking speed, and eyed the flashing bulbs up above uneasily.

"I mean," Marik continued, stopping dead, "that the movie was fun, but now I want a snack, and a few friends of mine are going to help me."

Taking that as their cue, the three zombies arose from the shrubs, and revealed their features to the girl, which were illuminated harshly by the bright bulbs lining the streets.

"Always one or theatrics, aren't you?" Bakura grumbled, sliding forward, his right leg limping as he moved in towards Anzu. The girl made a strangled noise, and fell backwards into Marik's waiting embrace, and squinted her eyes shut tight. Marik let out a low, small chuckle, before shooting a glare at Bakura, and dipping his head down.

"Why, Anzu, my dear, did you really think I was the person to run to?" With that, and one more startled noise from Anzu, Marik was transforming, twisted nails plunging roughly into creamy skin as Anzu shrieked. Marik quieted her, however, by covering her mouth with his own twisted maw, and pressed his teeth roughly into her gaping mouth, shoving his teeth into the wet cave, and delving his tongue into the blood slicked area, tasting her teeth as his forked muscle rubbed them teasingly.

Bakura let out a cry of anger, and shuffled forward, smacking Marik roughly, and drawing the werewolf from his bloody makeout, and watching, with a sick fascination, as Marik detached himself from the girl's lips, and panted, blood pouring down his chin.

"Move out of the way for us," Bakura grumbled, not happy with the way Marik was clinging to the girl, even if it was in a blood mess.

"Oh, do you want a kiss instead, Bakura?" Marik teased, leaning forward, and dropping the long dead Anzu to the ground, where Mariku and Ryou immediately converged on her, teeth hacking her apart, inadvertently brushing against one another.

"And if I did?" Bakura sniffed. "Not like you'd do anything. You eat everyone you date!"

"Shove it, Pet Semetary!"

"Kiss your own hairy back-side!"

"Maybe I'll kiss you instead!" Marik barked back, face morphing into that of a human's once more as he lurched forward, grasping the zombie's face and smashing their lips together. Bakura let loose a groan, and his eyelids fluttered close, and he moved forward, pressing his chest to Marik's, and lining his hips up with the taller man's.

"Necrophilia!" Mariku shouted rudely behind them, wicked, bloody smirk in place as he watched Marik and Bakura quickly stumble away from each other. Marik's face was heated and flushed, whereas Bakura's was turning icy cold, and his cheeks were tinting black to match the sludge circulating his veins.

"Oh, shut it, you ass!" Ryou cried at the spiky haired man, eyes squinting. "At least someone around here has the balls to kiss the person they like!" With that, Ryou shot up, kicked Anzu's body, tossed an eye at Mariku, and dashed away.

"The fuck did I do?" the yami grumbled.

-(-o-)-

Monster Mash

"MARIK!" Namu squealed, shooting out from behind a banister as he dragged along an uncomfortable Strings with him. Slender arms stayed locked tight about the sallow, bared arm of the (apparently) mime-like Strings.

"What is it?" Marik growled, turning to regard Namu with irritation. He had been helping decorate this monstrous house that Namu had acquired through family funds.

"Bakura's on his way to help out," the blonde said simply, and fidgeted with his witch dress, humming happily. He lifted up his hands to cradle Strings's hat, and cooed as he saw his apparent 'perfection' reach fruition.

Marik felt heat rise to his cheeks, and he imagined Bakura, his crush for Gods know how long, coming here, seeing Marik dressed in tights and a green dress. Namu had demanded that Marik be Peter Pan, and to keep him quiet, the other had obliged. Of course, at the time, he'd been assuming he'd be surrounded by general strangers, and his one friend, Namu.

Not Bakura.

"And speak of the devil he's here!" Namu giggled deviously, and snagged up Strings's hand as he dragged the mute boy away, laughing demonically. Knowing the little asshole, he'd probably planned this...

"Why, Ishtar!" a voice drawled behind him, "such nice shapely legs you have." Flushing already, Marik whirled around, and stared into the hard brown eyes of Bakura Touzouku, and glared at the sharp horns protruding from beneath a mass of white hair, that trickled downwards to a red, robe clad body, and the pitchfork placed into a crisp, skeletal hand.

"I know my legs look good," Marik retorted, not giving an inch, "but I guess you'll never know till they're wrapped around you hips, when I'm screaming your name."

Bakura gave a slow blink, before twirling the pitchfork in his fingers, deftly avoiding Marik's features. "That's right, but then I'll have you bouncing up and down on these three spikes, seeing just how much you can take."

"Bakura," Marik said testily, clear sarcasm in his voice, "Oh how I just can't wait."

"Well there are plenty of rooms," Bakura teased back, giving a vicious smirk.

"I think I'm more entertained by this spider," Marik replied, hoisting up one of the fake, plastic, hair covered pieces, and tossing it into Bakura's hair, watching as it tangled itself in the strands, "then having sex with you."

"All right," Bakura appealed, dropping low, and running his tongue along Marik's ear. "But we'll see how you feel after a long night of dancing, huh?"

-(-o-)-

Sleepy Hollow

"Dammit, Mariku, keep your head on!" a voice quipped, as a small, white haired boy strode angrily up to a black horse, watching as the muscles along the beast twitched and writhed. "You're making your horse nervous, and you're not going to be able to go out riding!"

"Fine, fine," a voice cried, muffled from within the folds of Ryou's chest, and a spiked head of hair was hoisted high into the air, and plopped down onto a neck lacking a certain cranium that was quite important.

With the head attached to his neck, Mariku gave it a sharp twist, and blinked slowly, working his jaw and rolling his neck. "That's never pleasant," the man grumbled, before swooping down and delivering a kiss to Ryou's mouth, working his lips slowly against the other boy's.

He pulled Ryou up to the horse's belly, so he could have easy access to the boy's buttocks, groping the jean clad area, and letting out a low moan as his tongue traced the boy's lips. Ryou let out a pleasured noise, and a pallid hand shot up, rubbing softly at Mariku's crotch.

The blonde let out a sharp noise, and lurched his hips, unfortunately causing his body and head to go different ways. Ryou gave a frightened cry as he was suddenly kissing a detatched head, and then the spiked head of hair was free-falling to the ground.

"Dammit Mariku!"

-(-o-)-

Alright! This is because I couldn't quite figure out a single story I wouldn't to do fully, so I just kinda... Mashed up all together in little snippits. That said, some of them aren't so little and this is actually pretty long but uh.. Yeah.

But these are really just fragmented snippits and ideas. So they're not supposed to be ~full~ stories.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!