Remanants of Emotions ~ Words

The Fast Lane

Wed, 11 Jul 2007 00:28:07 GMT

Note: And here I thought I was done with the YGO fandom then this happened. I won't say this will be my last piece, just in case. For the record, this is shamelessly inspired by The Eagles' song "Life in the Fast Lane"

Gift fic: For fickle_goddess as another birthday gift fic.

Series: Yuugiou.

Coupling: Flippantshipping (Ryuuji/Mai)

Disclaimer: I've totally run out of clever ways to just say, I don't own them, or even ice cream. I'm just using them and will return them right after I'm done. Promise.

The Fast Lane
(7-5-07)

Otogi Ryuuji had never heard of The Eagles, and had no idea who they were. Even if he had, he probably would have had no interest in their music, and none of their songs would have meant anything to him; sans one.

He first met Kujaku Mai at duelist kingdom, and immediately surveyed, first and foremost, she was a crazy driver. Secondly he noticed she was drop dead gorgeous. Mai, of course, noticed Ryuuji -- he was the only one there with startling green eyes, jet black hair, and somehow he looked more Asian than anyone else in the group. He held a slight European air to him, though, acting the delicate charmer in the back seat as Mai sped down the streets to find the peer Yuugi and Jounouchi were at. It was possible, she decided. Maybe his mother was foreign, and his father was from that sect of people in India with green eyes. After all, her father was European, which was why her own eyes were a royal shade of purple.

The second time they met was definitely some event with Yuugi -- neither could ever remember what, and they both had decent memories -- and Mai had been with Jounouchi at the time, so Ryuuji spent most of his time charming Shizuka, for the sole purpose of unnerving Honda Hiroto. It was always worth it, he explained to Mai later.

After Battle City, after the other Yuugi left this world, Mai started modeling, only to find she had a definite taste for it. Usually women her age weren't wanted for that sort of thing, but she knocked the modeling word off of its feet. Ever since her debut it was in love with her, and she rather loved it. At least, more than she could ever love any man. Except maybe one....

She and Jounouchi Katsuya as a relationship refused to work, no matter how badly they both wanted it to. It may have gone smoothly at first, Mai failed to pay attention. Their relationship, at least, ended on a gentle note, gracefully and soft. From there on, Mai's face could be seen all over the world, and she rarely returned to Japan.

Ryuuji was just as bad, only he ran his gaming business and spread to Europe and the Americas. Next his sights were on Australia. Whenever he was out in America, he usually bought the latest hot rod up for sale, then sold it before leaving. Everywhere else he took the bus and walked, though he preferred his own style of getting around, which, even though he never knew until Battle City, was just as insane as Mai's. Back in Domino, however, Ryuuji preferred riding a motorcycle now, but he was hardly ever there anyway.

This is why their third encounter was so significant, as it randomly happened one late night in Domino, at three in the morning; an hour Ryuuji was sure he wouldn't run into anyone he knew.

When Ryuuji looked at the ice cream isle at a convenient store near his penthouse, he was horrified to find there was one carton of chocolate based ice cream in the entire place, something called Fossil Fuel. That sounded good to him, and clearly he couldn't afford to be picky. Unless he wanted to drive to another store, and Ryuuji decided, no, he didn't. Without giving it a second thought, he grabbed for it, only to find the carton was stuck? Or no...there was another hand pulling on it -- a feminine hand. Oh Hell! Fangirl? (Maybe he could convince her to let him have it?) He jerked the carton, hard, as he looked up into those unmistakable purple eyes.

"Kujaku!"

"Otogi! How could you just steal a lady's life source like that?" Mai asked, her lips curled into a confident grin.

Oh?

Ryuuji smiled in return, curling the carton close to his body, like the wonderful bargaining chip it was meant to be. "Your smile brightens the store despite that. Only a goddess could be so calm under such dire circumstances."

"A goddess I am, then," said Mai as her lips quivered from a repressed laugh. "I deserve a sacrifice now. Hand it over," she demanded with a silky firmness.

Now, some people knew Ryuuji to be harsh and unyielding, but such tactics would get no where with a woman cut from the same cloth; besides, Ryuuji had much better plans for the gem in front of him, gleaming amethyst and gold as she did. Ryuuji was certain those colors would gleam only the more stronger against a jet black backing next to emeralds, and he was determined to find out. Stubborn as ever, Ryuuji argued, "Ah, but I'm a god, and this sacrifice is for myself. Surely an independent woman as yourself can find another ice cream you prefer. Wouldn't chocolate mar your perfect skin?"

Acting affronted, Mai insisted, "My flawless skin has never met a blemish in all of my life. Besides, this woman has need of that chocolate."

"So do I."

"My need is greater."

She was definitely hooked, Ryuuji decided, just as Mai knew she would get what she wanted.

"Then a perfect pair such as us should share," Ryuuji finally suggested, realizing his error in thinking this was just his game when Mai's lips morphed into more of a smirk.

"I agree." Mai offered out her arm, and Ryuuji made a flamboyant show of slipping his arm through hers -- the greater the display, the more of a simple play. Ah, but the more simplistic, the deeper something had to go was what Mai believed. Ryuuji was brilliant, but she had experience and years over Ryuuji's head.

Together they paid for the ice cream, decided Mai could catch a taxi in the morning, and together -- with Mai's arms around Ryuuji's waist -- they rode off to Ryuuji's pent house. Just as he thought, Mai didn't care about his reckless turns, in fact, she whispered in his ear, "Faster," which he was happy to oblige.

At his place, they devoured the ice cream while watching some movie they picked at random. Once the ice cream was gone, Mai suggested alcohol, which led to chocolate cake shots.

"They taste just like chocolate cake," Mai's honeyed voice promised.

Ryuuji thought they tasted like alcoholic chocolate, but he had no idea how vanilla plus some alcohol managed to make a chocolate flavor to start with. After five more shots he couldn't taste the alcohol anymore and finally agreed with Mai. What made him happier was to find out Mai's lips tasted like chocolate, and so did her tongue.

Intoxicated with the kisses, or maybe it was her scent ("You smell like chocolate." "Don't be silly, hon. I smell like flowers." "Chocolate." "You're drunk!" "So are you." "Not arguing."), or the softness of her skin, or her voice, but whatever it was, Ryuuji didn't want it to stop. Together, they did a whole bunch of other things with chocolate syrup they found in Ryuuji's fridge. Ryuuji had no desire to ever harm a woman, so Mai ran her finger nails down Ryuuji's back, dug them into his shoulders, and nibbled on his lips from time to time.

Mai did well for herself, and Ryuuji did just a bit better, so when they found each other still sleeping in the same bed by morning, they went on a shopping spree, just for the heck of finding out how much they could carry on a motorcycle. They went to random shops and bought whatever they felt like, then gave a bag here and there to random people to find out what they were left with at the end of the day ("It'll be a surprise. Doesn't that make it more fun?" "Wherever do you get your ideas from, Ryuuji Doll?" "The sky." "Sounds endless." "They are." "Good." Another kiss), until Mai remembered about her car. That was hardly the end of it, though.

They met up to go out drinking, played tricks on each other, exchanged phone calls from different countries, met up to do random shopping sprees in the middle of some foreign country and sped down every highway they ever encountered. Quickly, they became an item, and everyone was certain such a fast rising star had to be headed for just as quickly a fall. Ryuuji and Mai decided not to tell the populace how often they were wrong, just to make it all the more interesting.

One day back in Domino, they both discovered they were low on ideas, discussed a bit about their pasts, then thought of who they knew that was young, in a rich family, and possibly feeling the loneliness they had in their youths (well, Mai had been lonely, but Ryuuji had been lonely and abused).

Together, it seemed fated as they spoke the name, "Mokuba!"

Mai gave a hauntingly suggestive grin as she said, "We should treat the poor boy to a day outside."

"Something new. New scenery. New people. New chances."

Mai nodded. Ryuuji nodded.

"Let's," with his fingers in the air, Ryuuji hooked them for implications, "'kidnap' him."

"Brilliant. If we've kidnapped him, there's no way the poor dear will get kidnapped by someone with ill intentions."

"Exactly."

Together they found out why it was so easy to kidnap the poor boy, or maybe it was just Mokuba was happy to see familiar faces that made it easy. Whatever it was, they had him in no time, sitting in the back of Mai's car as they raced around town. Mokuba even happily joined in their game to prank Seto and make demands in exchange for himself. Of course, hearing Mokuba's voice over the cell phone ended their game, but Ryuuji and Mai didn't care. They laughed away about it as they returned the kid. Mokuba never forgot their trip; even years to come, he would see a car that looked like Mai's, or maybe smell her scent, or see one of Ryuuji's fangirls wearing a shirt with Ryuuji's face on it, and the first thing Mokuba would remember was, "'Hey, kid. You want some candy?' Sounds like a really creepy thing to say. Can't you think of anything better?"

They stormed the world, threw parties, attended them together, got drunk together, tried a few drugs together, and kept on driving recklessly.

One evening when Ryuuji was certain he wasn't drunk yet, and Mai was too inebriated to better judge Ryuuji's words, they left a party early. Before she got on his bike, Mai remarked, "China Doll, where are the helmets? We had helmets? Didn't we?"

"Maybe they felt neglected and walked off. Or maybe they went inside for a few drinks. Don't worry about it," Ryuuji assured her with a smile. "If we crash, I'll save you."

"Who's going to save you?" Mai joked, not giving it a second thought as she settled in behind him.

"You will!" were Ryuuji's last words before the engine drowned out his voice entirely.

Just like she had on that first night, Mai leaned in to whisper in Ryuuji's ear, "Faster," just as the light up ahead turned yellow.

Ryuuji was positive it was still yellow when he pressed down on the gas.

They never even had a chance to save each other, and kept on riding beyond the broken glass and blood smeared pavement, never giving it a second look. Confused, they drove around with a dusk-red sky overhead, until Mai finally asked, "Do you recognize this place?"

With a shake his head, Ryuuji said an unnecessary, "No."

A hooded figured stepped out in front of a bridge, and they halted to speak with him, as Ryuuji didn't believe in just running people over -- it had to be a person.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Ryuuji asked, cheerfully, as though he had all the time in the world.

The figure's deep voice said, "You need to pay the toll."

"What is it?" Mai asked, before Ryuuji could respond to that.

"Your souls."

Ryuuji grinned. "Then we have a problem. We already sold our souls to chocolate cake."

The figure silently stepped out of the way and let them cross the bridge, only for Ryuuji chuckle to himself; Mai caught the vibrations, barely distinguishing them from the motorcycle's engine.

"What's so funny, hon? I want in on this joke too," Mai said with a poke to Ryuuji's side.

Ryuuji looked back -- why watch the road? There was no longer anything to fear -- to tell her, "If security around here is that relaxed, we'll be running this place inside a month."

"Wanna bet?" Mai asked with a self-assured smirk.

"Of course."

"If you lose it, I get to paint your nails."

Ryuuji nodded, far too confident. "And if I win --"

Once again, Mai beat him before he could get far and said, "I'll be your queen."

The upturn of his lips after those words was good enough of a response for Mai. You're on, babe.

From then they rode on, living happily ever after in Hell, of all places, always together.

- End -

End Game

Wed, 11 Jul 2007 00:22:28 GMT

Excuse for this? Clearly, I have none. I decided I'd finally finish off the Troubled Dragons series, that was never intended to happen. It was just a one-shot, until Fickle wrote a remix for it, then I decided it MUST be given a full ending. Period.

Gift-fic: ~~Valentine's 2007, for Fickle.~~ Now a birthday gift fic for fickle_goddess

Series: Yuugiou

Coupling: Mastershipping (Seto/Ryuuji, as Seto would insist, but Ryuuji knows better, it's really Ryuuji/Seto.)

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own. I'm just using them momentarily to please someone else.

Warnings: Dark. Dark and angsty. If those aren't enough for you, add on male/male, implied auto-erotic asphyxiation and sex, dubious consent and character death.

Fairy Tail of Troubled Dragons (End Game)
(Started: 1-30-2007)

Everything carried on its sarcasm-dipped loop of "happily ever after" until Ryuuji no longer could see the marks - not on himself, of course, because he never let his eyes linger long enough; only long enough to slip in another needle, and not a second longer - the ones on Seto's neck, on his arms, on his back. Not the scars Ryuuji would cruelly trace over and dig his nails into when he wanted to seer his position over the brunet into Seto's mind. Not those...the new ones that enraged Ryuuji enough to see red.

Oh, he smiled - a cold gesture that never reached Ryuuji's eyes - while Seto was laying there, and pretended all was well; however, in the back of his mind, Ryuuji was forever plotting. He stalked and hunted his prey down, until Pegasus finally learned the lesson everyone else had fallen prey to: Addictions kill.

Much like Ryuuji had never asked about Malik, Seto never asked about Pegasus, and Ryuuji nearly pulled his hair out wondering where the wounds kept coming from. No one else was supposed to touch what was his, and Ryuuji thought he always left Seto craving and needing more. He was certain the fix was always just enough to keep Seto coming back, but not enough to kill him. Yet. He believed it could go forever (until he finally got tired of the blue-eyed dragon) and never realized the addiction he himself had become trapped in.

Ryuuji would have lived life blindfolded, if the blindfold wouldn't have told everyone volumes.

Seto was too socially inept to understand how much his blindfold said. Or maybe, Ryuuji later decided, Seto had seen only black for so long, he forgot there was ever a blindfold in place.

Not that Ryuuji objected. Quite the contrary. Seto's blindfold was the greatest tool Ryuuji ever found. He could slip his fingers around the cloth, twisting it just enough so Seto could see sparks of light peek out from underneath. Ryuuji would always listen for how Seto's breath would hitch, quickly and subtle, in those brief moments of excitement. It was how Ryuuji, eventually, learned Seto thrived off of risk and gamble.

Of course, the two could never agree who was to lead, and rage would take over. Seto's own temper flared high and dangerous, like an active volcano, every time he saw Ryuuji with a needle in hand. Once the war for dominance was combined with guilt-induced anger, it was bound to explode into little pieces, but Ryuuji was accustomed to broken things so he didn't see a reason to stop.

It never even registered in his mind Seto had tried to grab the needle from him, and Ryuuji didn't understand what had happened until he felt the plastic leading to Seto's own arm, the drug filled syringe already imbedded in pale flesh. The green-eyed boy shrugged it off, for he already had enough playing havoc on his system, and this might be worth watching.

Indeed, Seto didn't let him down, head soon lolling in strange contentment, and hot, confused bliss.

Ryuuji's eyes watched, soon going down to the slender neck beneath, looking at every curve from the bones and tendons, moving in a hypnotic taunt, until Ryuuji had to stop them. Besides, Seto needed retribution for trying to get in the way.

What followed, instead, though was dark skin contrasting dangerously against cream colored skin, and Seto arching under him, hands tangled in the sheets beneath them. Voice low, Ryuuji leaned forward to whisper, "I'll stop just before you pass out," and his word was near good as a promise, in this condition. He did stop, and Seto -- eyes seeing sparks as his vision cleared -- gasped for air. Once calm, the drugged brunet whispered, "Again."

Ryuuji was in no state to deny him.

The hands again constricted around Seto's thin neck, pressing against the air passages, while listening intently, and trying to focus on Seto's movements. But in his own intoxicated daze, Ryuuji 's mind missed the signs, and thought Seto still struggled long after his body stopped. This led to deep, sharp kisses, delivered with teeth bared, and Ryuuji continued on, thinking Seto too drugged up to return his efforts. Fine by Ryuuji -- Seto would probably retaliate in the morning.

Accept...in the morning, Ryuuji felt something cold and stiff laying next to him. Confused, his eyes slowly opened, head rolling to look at Seto and ask him why there was warmth lacking -- are you really made of ice -- only to discover Seto's eyes were supposed to be blue, not his skin.

Desolate, but face neutral, Ryuuji never wanted to speak of it. The funeral was rather lonely, with only Rebecca there attempting to comfort a numb man. Once she realized her efforts were futile, she gave a light sob, and handed Ryuuji her number, telling him to call if he needed to. She could only hope he would.

Of course, he didn't. What Ryuuji did instead was look for a replacement for everyone and everything in his life, in the same place he had been looking for the past five to seven years. He lacked certainty on how long it had been since he began this.

Malik would have told him it was corrupt and not to use it. Jounouchi would have scoffed Ryuuji didn't know better. Seto would have been furious, regardless. Mai would have told him not to pick that, but to drink with her instead. Yuugi would have just said drugs were bad. Honda...had no room to talk. Shizuka would have pleaded and begged. Pegasus would have played along and been friendly, but would have suggested Ryuuji find another means of escape -- perhaps a game? But it was Mokuba, only Mokuba that appeared in front of Ryuuji, lips curved into a welcoming smile as he held out his hand.

From a world of corpses and blood, scars stinging in his mind, Ryuuji had no option but to reach back and grasp it firmly, leaving behind the coughing and pain. He couldn't face it, and put his hands over his ears to muffle the hacking. Blood spilled from his lips, covered his hands, and gathered around him, like a liquid blanket, lacking comfort. It created a crimson signature the world would never forget, and never be able to wash away. Much like Seto, Ryuuji's world went black with no one noticing.

It was a couple of days before the house keeper came around, so she could hardly miss the fact, and screamed. She alerted the proper authorities and the mess was tended to, but there was no one left to cry in earnest, sans Rebecca.

Ryuuji was never good at saving himself and Seto sucked at saving other people; however, neither of them believed in happy endings.

End Game.
(Finished: 4-10-07)

Moving On

Fri, 06 Jul 2007 17:07:37 GMT

Note: Post Angel Sanctuary. Talk about new grounds for me. And as this is all Xinda's fault, the story is a gift fic for her. Think of this as a fanfic about little people for a little person. (Feel free to shoot me.)

Birthday gift: To xinda.

Series: Angel Sanctuary

Coupling(s): Definitely smatterings of Alexiel/Lucifer, mentioned Setsuna/Sara, and, the whole purpose of the fic, Michael/Kurai.

Warnings: None, unless you just don't like the coupling choices.

Disclaimer: I feel like a broken record every time I do this thing, all the same, once again, no, I don't own them. Let me go cry about it in a corner now.

After the Rain
(7-4-07)

No Heaven. No Hell.

All that remained were the angels, the demons, the evils, Assiah (the Earth), and the humans. Otherwise, the lands everyone but the humans had occupied lost their definition, and therefore, their purpose. The remaining inhabitants had to rebuild the social structure and laws from the ground up, starting with a far better foundation. As far as the remnants of Heaven went, these decisions were left in the hands of Alexiel, the Organic angel who reappeared after Setsuna returned to his life, Raziel in charge of what was once Zaphikel's rebel faction, and, of course, the elemental angels; however, with the elementals there was one problem -- Jibril had awakened, but Raphael was now in a coma.

As representative of what little remained of the evils, and a mediator between the demons and angels, Kurai was present with Noise at her side.

And of course, whether the rest of Hell's host agreed or not, Lucifer and Mad Hatter spoke on their behalf. Sort of. Kurai doubted they spoke on anyone's behalf but their own, but she was grateful for Mad Hatter's presence, regardless of the reason. As for Lucifer...it only made sense he was a part of the proceedings, as God's death was partly of his doing, though more of Setsuna's. Setsuna, though, could not be with them, so Lucifer sufficed.

Perhaps he had been a high angel cast out of the Heavens for whatever, etc. -- Kurai did not really care -- that was past. Whether or not it was Lucifer that helped them destroy God, or in fact, them that helped Lucifer destroy God, it didn't matter. The task was done, and everyone found out their goals were the same all along. Had the rest of Heaven's host known the truth...they might have never turned Lucifer out and helped him instead. It was a frightening realization for those that had obeyed God's word, or followed after Sevothtarte believing his word came directly from God.

In the aftermath of it all, none of it seemed important. The details of how they got there (or, "How could that fucking asshole use my brother like that? And why did he JUST GO ALONG WITH IT? FUCKING JERK!"), or why things progressed as they did were brushed aside for far more imperative topics -- how to move on, coexisting with each other, Heaven and Hell still melded together.

Besides, what task did Lucifer possibly have if God was dead? That was what Kurai thought at first, but once she caught Alexiel looking at him -- with a look Kurai would know from anywhere, having seen it on Setsuna's face, and Sara's face, and Kira's face while staring at Alexiel, or Alexiel from the older days, back when she would hold Nanatsusaya and stare off into the distance -- Kurai re-evaluated that sentiment. He would wait until he thought no one was watching, then his eyes would possessively turn in Alexiel's direction and Kurai knew; Lucifer had plenty of reason to exist.

Regardless of the meetings' importance, however, Kurai found her eyelids dropping in the soporific atmosphere of Lucifer's articulate, but soothing voice. She hated that voice, if only because on a normal day it was hypnotically pleasing to listen to, but on days Kurai's sleep was insufficient, it just made her want to curl up somewhere and take a nap. If only his words were dull, then she could fully blame him instead of her own body.

Worse was the potent fragrance of nauseatingly sweet roses that suffocated all other scents until all she could smell was Lucifer, and all she could hear was Lucifer, and fuck! What had he just asked? That was important, wasn't it?

Somehow, Kurai had responded, stifling a yawn as best as she could, and when an odd scent of fire (something musky, like smoke and burning wood) burst through the cloud of roses, Kurai couldn't help but be grateful.

Apparently, she wasn't the only one who would rather be off doing something else.

"Gah! Come on. This is boring!" Michael's sharp voice cut through anything else Kurai was about to say. His tone contrasted to Lucifer's so harshly, Kurai felt she had no option but to listen. Until he continued his ranting, that is. "Why do we have to keep on with these proceedings? Why can't the rest of you do it? You let me know when we have some actual fighting to do, and I go off for now?"

"Fuck you! You're in the same damn mess as the rest of us! The least you could do is help out!" Kurai found herself shouting back at Michael.

Uriel frowned. "And to think you chided the Savior and Raphael for fighting. Yet you'll cause a ruckus now, Michael?"

Michael seethed at that, but slammed his mouth shut the second he realized Lucifer was glaring at him, and Alexiel looked none too pleased herself. Sure, he wanted to fight Lucifer, but together, those two made his skin crawl sometimes; just as much as that piercing gaze made Kurai's.

Kurai could have sworn Lucifer managed to say everything from, "How insolent of you. We're in the middle of a meeting that decides your very fate, and all you can think of is chasing dragons out of the sky," to, "I wonder if slaying all of you will solve all of my problems," with just a simple glower. With a gulp, she took a few steps back from Lucifer and inched closer to Alexiel. What did she see in that man?

When she noticed Kurai was seeking closeness with her, Alexiel's own eyes shot a glare right back at Lucifer, one that said, "Don't scare everyone into silence. That's not going to solve anything." What she received in return was a neutral look of, "What did I do? It's no fault of mine she lost her place."

All the while, this silent conversation was driving Kurai mad, but she didn't dare say anything. So when Lucifer looked her way and said, "Kurai, do continue where you were interrupted," all Kurai could manage out was a squeak of sorts. Alexiel smothered a laugh into a smooth, affectionate smile, then pat Kurai's head. That was most comforting, especially when Lucifer seemed to stare at Kurai with nothing but disdain after.

Whispering, Alexiel suggested to Kurai, "Perhaps a break?"

Kurai nodded her head, her own words pouring out before Alexie's whisper was complete as she asked, "I'd like to propose a break, to regroup thoughts. I need some fresh air." Something that didn't suffocate her with roses.

It was agreed upon, and some of the others even went off for fresh air as well.

As she was walking around, calming her nerves and regaining her wits, Kurai turned a corner only to smack right into someone.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, short stuff," a harsh, familiar voice rebuked Kurai. The voice, she knew belonged to Michael, but the tone he used, the words, and how confrontational Michael was reminded Kurai of someone she first believed was very different from Michael. Slowly, she was changing her mind.

"Why don't you watch where you're going instead!" Kurai spat back at him, her fierce fangs on display as she opened her mouth to shout. "And you have no right going around calling people short! You're not that much taller than me. And I'm gonna get taller! Just wait!"

Michael snorted to that. "Don't hold your breath. It's not often I find anyone shorter than me, so if you think I'm not gonna take advantage of it, you're clearly wrong."

"You're so damn obnoxious! You can't take anything seriously," scoffed Kurai, her voice growing more irate. "You even interrupted the meeting and caused a problem."

There was an eyeroll. "Clearly you're forgetting you're the person that choked up just because my brother put you on the spot."

"I did not!"

"DID TOO!"

"DID NOT!"

"Children," a calm, confident voice broke into their shouting. It was so solid a sound, both of them stopped to look at its owner, who smiled and finally allowed herself a chuckle. When Alexiel was certain she had their attention, she said, "Kurai, Michael, we're ready to continue the meeting. Do join us," and walked away without waiting to see if they would follow.

Kurai did without hesitation, but for some reason she found herself turning back to look at Michael, only to find his face, her eyes on perfect level with his lips. "Ack! Don't walk so close behind me!" Kurai yelled at him as her face flushed.

"Why don't you walk faster then, little idiot! It's not like I'm a mind reader and knew you would turn around!"

Both heard a throat clear and turned to find the room of their fellow leaders staring, some smiling, some annoyed, and some indifferent.

Kurai finally re-entered the meeting room with scarlet bright cheeks, and later that night, she wasn't too surprised to find they were still a soft pink.

Maybe Setsuna belonged to Sara, and Alexiel and Lucifer were in a power struggle, but there were other people, Kurai realized. Even if he was an angel.

- End -

Memorable Innocence

Mon, 02 Jul 2007 12:53:50 GMT

Background: I'm well aware Kira and Setsuna met in middle school, originally, so consider this an AU, and pre-series. It actually stems from a one on one RP I did with Xmas where we decided, "What if Kira and Setsuna met sooner?" And somewhere along the way we developed it quite a bit, and I decided that had to be the basis for this fic. Because I'm like that. So deal. And strangely enough, this little idea developed because I couldn't think of what to give Xmas.

Birthday Gift fic: To good_odds. ~~And if I ever remember how the other one goes...you can have that one too.~~ Done.

Fandom: Angel Sanctuary

Coupling(s): None, not really. I think Angel Sanctuary is complicated enough in that department, why should I make it any worse when it comes to Kira and Setsuna? Seriously.

Warnings: None. This is pretty tame, considering.

Disclaimer: I'm not crazy enough to conceive characters like this and torture them for twenty full volumes -- they belong to Kaori Yuki.

Memorable Innocence
6-23-07

Fidgeting his feet, it was not long before Mudou Setsuna left the bench altogether and began to pace, his face set with frustrated determination. The blond was left with, what he felt was, a difficult choice.

Most years it never even mattered, for on Kira's birthday Setsuna would just go over, hang out with him for a while, maybe go out somewhere, and call it a done deal. For whatever reason, however, this year was quite different. Normally the ritual remained the same for Setsuna's birthday, but this year Kira had tossed a present at the teen when he entered Kira's room. So, of course, Setsuna felt compelled to return the favor. He had been feeling dread ever since his own birthday, though, as he had yet to think of anything.

What could you possibly get the guy that already had everything? Kira Sakuya had a motorcycle, a leather jacket, CDs all over the place, his own damn television in his room -- the works. Kira could easily buy himself whatever he wanted, so what the hell could Setsuna offer up?

Troubled, the blond considered his own gift, wrapped in shiny gold paper -- of all things -- and how it wasn't even an expensive gift. It failed to even be remarkable; it had just been the thought that touched Setsuna so deeply.

With his mind set on this, that very moment the rest of the mall came back into focus and his eyes landed on the window of a toy store. Setsuna's lips curved as his entire face seemed to light up, and he headed straight for the toy store.

A couple of days later, Setsuna handed over a hastily wrapped package to Kira. The brunet smirked at the mess, and remarked, "Red?"

"You told me dark red was your favorite color. When we were kids," Setsuna easily reminded him as he haphazardly fell on Kira's bed and curled up comfortably.

Taking a drag of his cigarette, Kira observed the package, released a smoke ring and told Setsuna, "You do know there are plenty of places with gift wrapping options, right? Your ability at it sucks."

"Hey! You actually had mine gift wrapped? You didn't do yourself? Cheating bastard," Setsuna quipped back, his cheeks lightly stinging with a pink tinge, even as he tried to conceal a small smile. Leave it to Kira to be an asshole no matter the occasion.

Kira chuckled and took another drag of his cigarette before crushing it out, "Who said I did any such thing?"

"It was done so perfectly...." whined the blond.

"That's because I know how to do it, idiot," chided Kira as he first weighed the package carefully, then lightly -- almost tenderly -- thumped it on Setsuna's head. The blond stared at Kira wondering what kind of present guessing ritual this was. Kira taking notice it weighed a bit, asked, "Hey, what the Hell did you get me anyway?"

Setsuna scowled and told him, irate, "If you want to know, open the damn thing yourself."

"Fine. Fine. Think I will if it'll keep you from whining at me." Kira just grinned at the glare that earned him and ripped off the paper to stare at what he found. "A tyrannosaurus rex?" Not just any T-rex, though. This one was decked out in firecrackers and had a little red bandana on. "What's with the strange attire?" Kira asked, amused.

"I think of you when I think of firecrackers, and then he just looked like Rambo when I put them on. Besides, you like red, so I thought it was a nice touch," Setsuna explained.

Unfortunately, Kira picked up on how the kid had missed explaining something. "And why a T-rex?"

"You forgot T-rex-san?" Setsuna hadn't. And he didn't think he ever could.

Kira's expression changed, slowly blank, and, then, blinking eyes and slightly parted lips followed. "You remember that? Spanky? That was ages ago, and once, and stupid. We were just kids. It was just a game," Kira said with a shrug, his normal cheeky grin back in place.

"Yeah," Setsuna mumbled, one hand on rubbing the opposite arm as he looked at Kira with those intense, sincere eyes, "I know. But that's the whole reason I thought of it. To remind you we were kids once. And we've grown up." Sort of. Setsuna gave a yawn after speaking, surprised at how drowsy he felt. Maybe it was just the atmosphere of Kira's place.

"I've grown up, idiot," Kira corrected him. "You still have a long ways to go." All the same, he gave the dinosaur a thoughtful look, then lit another cigarette. Why the Hell had Setsuna remembered? It was just one of those stupid random stories Kira made up because he was studying dinosaurs at the time, and found them intriguing.

Setsuna stuck his tongue out at Kira. "Whatever. If you're gonna be so ungrateful though, maybe I won't get you a gift next year."

Only silence replied to that as Kira focused on the smoke inhalation and the toy in his hands. Setsuna rolled his eyes, closed them, and soon fell asleep. Wrapping presents wrong was tiring, apparently.

Eventually, Kira noticed the bizarre silence in the room and looked up to find his friend out cold. "What the.... You come over for my birthday and fall asleep on my bed?" When there was no response he crushed out his second cigarette too, carefully placed the T-rex (Spanky), on his dresser and gracefully slinked into the bed, next to Setsuna, where he could closely watch the blond as his chest rose and fell. Like this, Kira could watch Setsuna for hours, and even lay an arm over him -- Setsuna was dead to the world when asleep. During that time, Kira could also ponder why the kid had held on to such a minute memory from so long ago.

The strange thing was, Kira liked the fact Setsuna had bothered to. And here he thought Setsuna was too consumed with Sara to notice much beyond her.

"Stupid. You shouldn't waste anything on me," Kira whispered and leaned over to lightly kiss Setsuna on the forehead. Setsuna stayed fast asleep, curled up next to Kira until the morning, and Kira didn't regret not going out to a club, like they might have done otherwise.

In the very least, Kira's last birthday had been the most memorable and the best.

- End -

Temptation

Thu, 28 Jun 2007 00:03:57 GMT

Note: This isn't quite the way I remember it, but I'll probably never get the original muse back for this piece, so I'll take what I can get. I'm pretty sure the original theme is still very apparent, so as long as it's in tact, I think I've done my job and I won't fret over it.

Birthday Gift Fic #1: For Xmas, good_odds

Series: Angel Sanctuary

Couplings: Lucifer/Alexiel, Alexiel/Nanatsusaya, Kira/Setsuna (one-sided)

Warnings: Does the Kira/Setsuna stuff really count as shounen-ai when Kira's in love with Alexiel and Setsuna IS Alexiel? I'm sorry, this series HURTS MY HEAD. And it's a very short drabble. I think the original concept was much longer.

Disclaimer: They belong to Yuki Kaori. She can keep them, too, I just like borrowing them to watch them squirm a little more.

Temptation
6-26-2007

Contrary to popular belief, the Bible never said the fruit was an apple, and as far as Alexiel can remember, what Lucifer offered was not fruit, but his very hand. Eden was hardly a luxurious garden of the best Earth had to offer; in fact, it was a prison in Heaven itself. Then again, history has never been very accurate, has it?

She stared at the offer Lucifer proposed. He had, after all, kept his word, and unknowingly offered more insight to him than anyone else could have understood. How could Alexiel turn that down?

Her voluptuous lips parted so her teeth could bite down into that poisoned fruit, so deep she could taste blood, and hear the crunch rent her head in half.

Alexiel followed him so it was only natural when Lucifer was punished for her sake she sought him out and offered Nanatsusaya the same choice. The truth she dangled over the sword's head, silently enjoying the switch of roles. Once she had that hilt in her hands, she never wanted to release it, but keep him with her for eternity. Even after Rosiel was sealed away, she longed to search for those pieces of Nanatsusaya to place them back together.

Of course, she could look at the court of Heaven and lie easily it was God she loved. Some might guess she was dishonest, but none of them would ever know who it was. They might assume Rosiel. Even Nanatsusaya thought Alexiel looked beyond him, gazing off into the distance thinking of someone else. Uriel saw it, too; everyone did.

How could she ever tell them the truth? How strong those ties of complex similarities bound them was no one else's business.

Six thousand years later, how much had changed?

Leaning over the blond, Kira brushed a strand of hair out of Setsuna's face as the teen slept, and stared.

Lips chapped so red, like strawberries, or cherries, or raspberries; desperately ripe, begging to be picked and consumed. He stared, transfixed before leaning closer.

Kira bit into that forbidden fruit so deeply his mind went blank. Only a few words bubbled to the surface of his mind, confusing him more: "Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?"

- End -

Pas De Deux

Fri, 22 Jun 2007 20:16:09 GMT

Reason: This is a gift fic for Alys (alys_wonder). Do I need any other excuse to mess around with someone else's fictional characters?

Fandom: Princess Tutu

Coupling: Fakir/Ahiru. =X

Warnings: I don't think this really warrants any. I maybe wrong.

Disclaimer: Princess Tutu belongs to the ~~deranged~~ mind of Ikuko Itoh, and I'm just going to borrow a couple of the characters for a bit. I don't think they should mind, considering they've already been toyed with so much. Do you think they'll mind? It is for a gift drabble, after all.

Pas De Deux
(6-15-07)

It is a shame writing lacks the grace of dance. Can you tell a story with the same feel and elegance of pas de deux? Can you, can you? Will you tell me?

Once upon a time there was a useless knight obsessed with protecting his prince, and a...duck. The knight's entire life and reason revolved around the prince, even as he attempted to make the prince's life revolve around him. The duck wanted to be human and return the prince his heart, and thought nothing but of doing this for the prince.

Once upon a time there was a story, and in this story all Fakir and Ahiru cared about was Mythos; however, that story is over.

Somewhere along the way things became less and less about Mythos the longer they spent time together. Somewhere along the way all Fakir thought about was Ahiru, and Ahiru kept thinking of Fakir. Now with Mythos and Rue off living their happy story, we are left with a knight turned writer and a...well, duck. We find them once again, a couple of years down the road, still a writing knight and a duck.

Fakir's green eyes wandered from the page in front of him to watch Ahiru as she ducked her yellow head into the water again, and they kept leaving the page. Once again he had stumbled on a lack of words, the main threat to the frail existence of writing -- writer's block. Was that really it, though? He observed the duck again, and Fakir considered that possibility and all others, his mind wandering yet again.

Perhaps it was something else.

"I'm going in for the day," Fakir abruptly told Ahiru and rose from his chair by the lake.

Ahiru's head shot up as she gave out a, "Quack?" a surprised and sorrowful note that conveyed her shock he was retiring so early. Was she not invited to follow? Did he wish to be alone this evening?

In quiet understanding, Fakir gave Ahiru a mere upturn of his lips and added, "You can come if you like. Or you can stay and swim a bit longer. It's up to you." With that, he started to walk away, and Ahiru looked back at the water -- sparkling so invitingly under the sun's warm rays -- and once more at Fakir's retreating back.

Well, if he was going to be that way about it, fine. She wanted to swim a bit longer, maybe even much longer. So how about that?

Defiantly, Ahiru stuck her yellow tail feathers up and swam further on the lake. Sometime when she reached the other side, though, Ahiru realized a huge loneliness had welled up inside of her. Feeling the weight of it, her eyes were lured back towards Charon's house, where she knew Fakir was. It was so simple, after all. But why, she had to ask, why when he was gone did she feel so sad and empty sometimes?

Clearly, there was nothing to be done about it. Ahiru at once started swimming back to the shore.

Inside, Fakir, seated at the table, stared at the wall for a while, lost in his own thoughts. There was a story, wasn't there? Of two lovers cursed by a wizard so that they could never touch or be together again. She a hawk during the day, and he a wolf at night. There was only a brief moment at sunrise and sunset they were both human, but before their finger tips could touch, one would change.

That wasn't this story, though. Fakir was always human, and Ahiru was always a duck.

Fakir closed his eyes in frustration at it, until his mind went blank. What did it matter if she was a duck? Did she always have to be a duck? What if it was just one day? If she wanted it as well.... It was her decision once they reached that point, but until then Fakir would write.

The words formed in black ink snaking on the paper in the wake of Fakir's duck-feather quill:

Ahiru waded to the end of the lake and stepped out. Long red hair returned, in its ridiculous duck-like tufts crowning her head. As gracefully as she could manage -- which means she probably stubbed her toe along the way and tripped over a log -- Ahiru made her way to the house

What story he would have given the rest of the world is never to be known, for his writing stopped there; his hands were entwined in red hair.

Even it was for only a day, they would always have the memories, for ever after.

- End -

Just a Cup of Fruit

Mon, 10 Jul 2006 06:44:05 GMT

Reason: Inspired by Fickle's Ryuuji and Sian's Mai, and washing a cup of fruit one night made me ask just how would Ryuuji wash it and handle it. Don't ask why, because I don't know where this stuff comes from, that is just how it happened. Then I ended up challenging myself to make a fic out of that thought, using symbolism to represent Ryuuji's life with a simple cup of fruit, like I did to Seto's life with a sandwich once. I need to get around to revising that fic and posting it too.

(Birthday) Gift fic: To fickle_goddess, yet again. It's to make up for her having a crappy summer. *nods, nods* Just nod your head too and indulge my stupid belief, okay?

Fandom: Yuugiou

Coupling(s): Hinted at Honda/Shizuka, Anzu/Atem, Yuugi/Anzu, and possibly Ryuuji/Mai, if you want to take it that way. You're welcome to do whatever you want with that last one, as neither of them mind.

Disclaimer: For the - what time is this? - 99324875778th time, I don't own them. None of them. I don't even own fruit. That would be nice about now, though.

Warning(s): None.

Just a Cup of Fruit
5-30-06

It was just a simple cup of fruit. At least, for most people, that's all it would be.

For Otogi Ryuuji, however, every piece had been hand picked (from other people's yards, just to prove he could be quick enough), washed carefully, then perfectly sliced or peeled, then washed yet again.

He picked certain ones for their color. Blue berries, black berries, strawberries, apple pieces, orange and green melon, along with a little pineapple (okay, so he had to buy the pineapple - off the internet, no less - but he felt the intense work of cleaning and cutting the pineapple made up for the lack of picking it himself), all made for a gorgeous myriad of color - a delectable, healthy rainbow he planned to consume, only after washing it, and washing it....

Ryuuji felt the cup pregnant with water, and slightly angled it, to allow the water to trickle between his fingers. As he did, though, he thought of how the cup of fruit, so lovingly and meticulously made, would make a perfect gift for anyone; even better was the person giving it. They would probably smile at him, take the cup, and cherish the work for a moment, complimenting how Ryuuji managed to capture nature's beauty. Then would come a smile, perhaps a kiss, and so much gratitude for such a simple little treat, but Ryuuji would be enthralled his minor efforts were met with such fervent appreciation.

The sound of water slipping over the edge and hitting the sink - a deeper hum than before - pulled Ryuuji out of his revere. The pretty image of someone to share the fruit with melted away and was replaced with a well-lit, but very empty kitchen. From there, the house continued on, full of light, but no warmth.

What use was light when it didn't heat things around you? Really, Ryuuji should just invest in learning how to see in the dark better, and turn off all of the lights. He would probably save a ton on his electric bill. But then, he didn't need to, so didn't care to.

The idea was tossed off, like it usually was, and the washing procedure was ended with the water valve closed again.

Now it was sink area that was empty as Ryuuji slipped into the living room, picking a comfortable chair. For show, he offered out the cup to the chair next to him, shrugged and said, "Fine. More for me."

After a couple of pieces of apple, though, Ryuuji stopped. Was he the only person he knew of in Domino left in this situation?

The first person he considered who might have no one but himself to offer fruit to just happened to be Kaiba Seto. Ryuuji's lips almost turned up - no one would grace that bastard with the time, and Seto wouldn't care for it anyway - but then stopped short as the image of a younger looking him, with wild black hair and blue eyes, stood beside Seto, mouth open.

Right; the brother - Mokuba.

He would probably faithfully help Seto find the fruit, or they would have a servant buy it at the supermarket. They would even wash it together, then sit back somewhere. Seto would feed Mokuba a piece, then Mokuba would feed Seto a piece, and it was so disgustingly fairy tale perfect. How? How did the two people, with the worst situation Ryuuji could think of, end up with the best results? With the sweetest and most affectionate outcome?

Grim, he popped a strawberry piece in his mouth, then wondered why he put the slightly sour fruit in there.

Okay.... So, Kaiba wouldn't be alone. Let's try....

No. Wait. Even Honda Hiroto had his family, unspoken as they were. And if not that, he would just sneak up the tree to Shizuka's room and tap on her window. Ryuuji could see the smile she would probably give him, beaming that Honda went through so much trouble for her, when Honda probably made some poor sap slave over the cup instead of himself. But Shizuka wouldn't know about that part, Honda wouldn't tell her, and they would just sit on her floor eating the fruit while Honda bragged to her about how he got it. All the while, they would feel adventurous, just because Shizuka's mother would be none the wiser about the little visit.

Well, there was always - no.

Ryuuji wouldn't be surprised if Jounouchi Katsuya had beaten Honda to the game, and had earlier slipped in the same window to give his sister a gift of well washed, but not so well chosen, fruit. Shizuka would smile anyway, and accept the gift, knowing the trouble her brother went through to get it. And she wouldn't tell Honda...just eat the fruit he gave her anyway, grateful fruit was not fattening.

Fine then. How about - never mind.

Mutou Yuugi was hardly alone. Even assuming no one was home, he could just go to Jounouchi's house, grinning from ear to ear as he held out a cup of fruit and announced he came to share with his best friend. Or...since he was an only child, like Mazaki Anzu, he could go visit her.

They would probably put powdered sugar on the offering, deciding it wasn't sweet enough. Then with each piece in a light, white coat, they would take turns feeding each other and talking. Or maybe - just a slight change to make this easier - Mazaki would share the fruit with Yuugi, but she wouldn't be thinking of him. All the while her mind would wonder and she would picture Yuugi looking just slightly older. She would be hoping the other Yuugi would find a reason to show up and share the cup with her.

But they would still be happy with their pretty illusions, eating away without another thought to how many people in the world were left with no one.

Wait! There was someone.

Ryuuji left the cup of fruit on the nearby coffee table while he fished around for his cell phone. It was.... There it was - on the other couch.

With the familiar, sleek plastic and wires in his hand, he settled back into the couch he previously occupied and dialed up a number he knew by heart. A number belonging to someone who had no one to share fruit with, but that never stopped her from finding someone.

"Hello, Doll. Bored tonight?" answered the ever amused, cheerful voice of Kujaku Mai as the other line picked up, and so quickly, too.

Slipping his own tone into mock-playful, the words followed without even a thought; "Aw. I'm deeply offended, Mai. To think you think I only call such a glorious goddess when my life is dull. First off, my life is never dull; secondly, I would never use you so. I call you every time you flutter across my mind."

"Must be telepathic, then. I was just thinking about you," she responded, also not stopping to ponder over her words. That's what she enjoyed most about Ryuuji's phone calls - the lack of necessary screens and defenses. "I'm at the new night club that just opened up, and thought you might enjoy a change of scenery. You called just as I was about to open my cell phone. Perfect timing."

His voice melded with hers, following it, not in a rush, but naturally, as though it was the same voice, just switching tone and level. "Like always."

"Will you join me, then?"

"Of course! I would never dream of turning down an invite from you. Be there in a bit."

Their call left Ryuuji's lips twisted upward, green eyes glittering in the artificial lights as he considered the proper attire for the evening.

In a rush of black leather and mesh, he was soon out the door, but stopped short, hand on the knob.

The fruit didn't know what it was missing. Just like everyone else. Then again, the fruit probably didn't care.

Ryuuji was about to step out the door once more, but this time he didn't just stop, he turned back around and grabbed the cup, all the while thinking, It's not flowers, but she'll love it anyway.

The door closed on the empty house, and the rest of the world still didn't know what it was missing; however, Ryuuji smiled.

~Fin~

Loops

Sat, 20 May 2006 01:26:57 GMT

Reason: Because I'm nuts and will do anything when inspired. This was a challenge Mamono issued to White Rain. But since I got inspired for it, I asked if I could try a hand in it.

The Challenge: Write out an azureshipping song-fic to Maroon 5's This Love.

Fandom: Yuugiou

Coupling(s): Azureshipping (Seto/Anzu)

Disclaimer: All characters mentioned don't belong to me. Period. The lyrics in italics are from Maroon 5's song This Love.

Warning(s): I'm not so sure a warning is necessary for this one, other than the coupling--don't like, don't read.

Loops
(Started: 11-21-04
Revised: 5-19-06)

The beginning of it might have been--yes, everything has a beginning. The problem most often found is when a person finds themselves in a loop of actions and reactions. Like in a computer program, when a loop is implicated without a definite ending integer; it will simply keep going.

Perhaps that is an unfair assessment, though, seeing as humans are not machines, not bytes and pieces of data; they are unpredictable. Even by tossing in an indefinite, that would otherwise implicate an infinite loop, does not necessarily mean the assigned loop will keep on going. For instance, some people might just stop completely and stare at you, completely baffled, beyond measure. That would be overloading the circuitry....

Eventually, you reach the obvious conclusion that, in fact, there is an ending. A way to stop the never-ending cycle without quitting the program. Sure, some will tell you the best method is to stop it, before you have to hit control-alt-delete, but those are the people who quit--not the ones who persevere.

I was so high I did not recognize
The fire burning in her eyes

So, this beginning I speak of was an endings. Perhaps that means, in truth, this was a loop before the complication of her was even added. It matters not, though; whether or not it is the actual beginning is of no consequence. Clear?

In this moment, I finally noticed her.

There are those who will say they became a victim to some beauty, the girl of their dreams, and they claim it as love--liars. I can tell you the stark reality. Her pretty eyes and great curves never saved her before, and I had no idea of who she even was. She was one of those people that hangs around Mutou Yûgi, and nothing more was given to the thought, but not in that moment--she stood out.

She might have said things I scoffed at, either silently or openly, but none of that matters. That moment was the beginning, when I realized Mazaki Anzu existed, and from there, my life only got stranger. To make it harder to swallow, I promise, things were already odd, if not occasionally incredibly outlandish. I don't think the other integers are any of your business.

Actually, I correct myself: a few of the other integers are none of your business, but still hold great importance to the loop factor; therefore, they will be covered, eventually.

The chaos that controlled my mind

You would think the story goes, "After that point on I fell in love, and there was no way to halt my emotions," or some nonsense along those lines. "Then eventually, after a long battle of verbally sparring we both confessed our love for each other and that was it." Guess what. If you thought that, you are completely wrong.

So wrong....

To start with, she was in love with someone who was already deceased. Yes.... You read right--dead. Of course, at first I simply thought he was people getting a little too creative with the other side that Mutou Yûgi displayed when dueling. Apparently not. His other face, the one I thought just came out when he dueled, was, in fact, another person altogether. An ancient Pharaoh....

And she was in love with this pompous, arrogant, self-righteous, possessive ghost! He possessed Yûgi and used the little wimp to duel, and play rather dangerous games. And she fell in love with this punk?

She did, if that pointless emotion exists. There was no questioning that, but at least her friend of so many years still meant something to her in the end. When Yûgi needed Anzu, she was right there by his side, cheering him on, even if it meant she would lose the spirit she had fallen for.

So what happened when he left?

Well, her little friends were so certain her affections would switch to Yûgi, since he was alive, and somewhat similar (other than his skills and appearance, I fail to see much of that. See pompous, arrogant, self-righteous does not equal Mutou Yûgi. Perhaps possessive, though; if you ever saw him with his friends, or that blasted thing he always wore around his neck...). That failed to happen. Anzu left to New York to pursue her pipedream of becoming a dancer, leaving everyone else behind. So the obnoxious friendship crew finally broke up as life took its toll. They fell out of the fairytale and experienced reality.

I left it at that and never thought more of it.

Not until I saw her again.

One night, on a business trip in New York City, she was there, hanging on the arm of prestigious CEO of a company I was about to negotiate business with. Decked out in stunning blue satin, Anzu carefully joked with the man and I finally paid attention.

Later, I learned she had met him at one of her performances. He started going to every single one of them and watched her. Before long, he met her personally, then they started to form some sort of relationship, one which started to break in pieces that night. Hardly one to build any sort of rapport with those I do not need, I found myself staring. It never helped that she stared right back.

Our eyes kept meeting across the room. I jested to myself that I was in shock I could never fully shake anyone from that group. It was like they were stalking me to the ends of the Earth.

Life can change things: how you perceive a person; how you view them. These things can alter, change or shift focus. I no longer thought of Yûgi what I once did. Jounouchi, while pathetic in his own right, had truly developed into a true duelist long ago, and if nothing else, I'd admit to his unwavering loyalty. And as for Anzu....

We ended up dancing together; a suggestion of her date, as he wished to embarrass me. His proposition completely backfired on him as I took her hand and waltzed her onto the floor. I treated it as simply second nature, when in fact, I'd barely danced before, just observed. A lesson that observation does help. ~~Besides, she mostly led, and was all around impressed that I took the challenge.~~

On that dance floor we spoke, though little. She expressed her surprise at me dancing, I mine at her being there. She told me why she was there, some about her date, and I told her I was there for business, nothing more.

I suppose she could not avoid saying, "Just remember, don't mix business with pleasure."

"What pleasure? This is just business," a natural retort came from me, and Anzu should have expected it. Just as their group assumed I never smiled, or acted human, I never thought I would see anything from her but an expression of irritation at my lack of understanding towards friendship and that ilk. Yet that night, she smiled at me, and laughed. Anzu found some odd humor in what I said, despite my lack of humor and the fact I persist on sarcastic remarks and insults.

Anzu decided to play back, telling me in a low whisper, "If this is just business, I should stop dancing with you, because last I checked, I wasn't getting paid for this."

I think I must have smirked at that, right before I said, "Well, I will not pay a lady to dance with me. She should only dance with me if she so wishes to." I let her go and took a step back to observe what she would do from there.

My pressure on your hips
Sinking my fingertips
Into every inch of you
Cause I know that's what you want me to do

Her mouth opened a little, I suppose in surprise. When she had her wits again, she spoke, a soft tone in her voice indicating slight confusion. "But...I do want to dance with you."

"Then let us." We said nothing more as I took her hand once more. The dance floor was ours that night and the business world breathed easier when I barely had time to properly puncture it. Not that I would leave the matter there--I had to retaliate on Anzu's date, of course.

What came from that was another meeting where she accompanied him, then talked with me after. She left her number in my hand, and I waited until she was gone. Even with Mokuba in my life, there were still times of ice-cold silence, much like the one that echoed in that moment.

I stared at that little piece of paper, vowing to forget the digits written on there; I would not be pulled into their little friendship club, not by her. Not by anyone. Then I realized how foolish I was being, how immature and childish. This wasn't about that, it was not even much about me.

It was about us....

For a moment, the paper fluttered helplessly over a waste basket, and had it fallen in, discarded and left behind, I would have continued on my little loop of pushing everyone sans Mokuba out of my life. I have no knowledge if we would have run into each other again, but life had handed me a chance, a variable to stop the circle and move on. A slight change to the equation was executed as I snatched the paper back.

A few nights later I called her.

And now you think we got together and the story ends, right?

Wrong.

We dated. I courted her, to make my intentions clear through gifts, or small notes. I suppose I'm not the most romantic person, but she seemed to enjoy whatever little glimpses into my personal life I allowed her.

Eventually, I had to return home, and the fairytale was to end, I believed. After all, she loved New York and she seemed to thrive and belong there.

It was Anzu that ended the courting phase of the relationship. The night before I left, Anzu stopped by my temporary living quarters and flashed a ticket to Japan in my face--hers.

I never asked her to. She said she needed to be by my side.

I asked, "What about New York?"

"I can always come back and visit. But I don't want to just visit you...."

So of course, we left together and returned to Japan. I felt a part of a world for a change. A piece of the inside had reached out and pulled me in. It held me in its tempting arms and wrapped me in warmth, and I, for once, had no desire to let go. Not yet.

Whispered goodbye and she got on a plane
Never to return again
But always in my heart

Yet, regardless of the slight change her sincerity had wrought in me, this is no fairytale, so it doesn't end there. Of course not. Life could not be satisfied with something so simplistic; apparently, neither can a woman.

When I thought everything was fine, she would pout, or sulk; obvious signs of discomfort. Yet, she would never explain the situation to me, even after we yelled. She would shout there was nothing really wrong--did she not see the irony in that? I always felt at blame and would just become more infuriated or frustrated she would not talk to me. Here, Anzu insisted I should talk to her and open up more to her, but she would not tell me what the problem was.

This was the point I started to lavish her in material objects.

I'll fix these broken things
Repair your broken wings
And make sure everything's alright

I felt, perhaps if she had trinkets, or gifts, she would understand what she meant to me. If she had things to do, aside from her dancing career, then she would be entertained and not collapse into morose periods.

I tried my best to feed her appetite
Keep her coming every night
So hard to keep her satisfied

Perhaps that was another big mistake. Eventually, she expressed anger at my small tokens, by throwing them at me. There was yelling; Mokuba got worried and upset, and she finally said I obviously didn't care enough about her and left.

I didn't realize it then, but this was the beginning of another loop. It started with her leaving, then she would return and things would be all right for a while, then she would slip back in doldrums, we would fight and she would leave.

Kept playing love like it was just a game
Pretending to feel the same
Then turn around and leave again

After a few months of that, I had enough. Anzu kept leaving and returning, and I was told it was my fault. Even my own brother said he could not fully blame her.In fact, he said I should change it. If it meant telling her it was over and ending the relationship, then at least she would no longer suffer ~~and neither would I.~~ Anzu could go find someone else.

This love has taken its toll on me

Fine.

She said Goodbye too many times before
And my heart is breaking in front of me

I did the only thing I could as she packed her bags and headed for the door. We were starting it again, that horrible, frightening loop we never seemed able to get out of. She would leave, then come back two weeks later and Anzu would tell me, "It's all right. I know how you are, and it's hard for you to show emotions. I understand...but sometimes it just gets to me."

"If you know, then why do you always make such a deal out of it? Why do we go through these unnecessary, venomous quarrels?"

"Because I may know," Anzu would always answer, her blue eyes looking straight into mine, as though she wanted to reach in and read my soul, "but once in a while, it would be nice to actually hear you say it. It would be nice to know those things I hope for are real. Otherwise, I might as well just be living in a fantasy world."

"Maybe you are living in one," I had the gall to scoff at her.

Usually we would let it drop at that. And before I knew it, a month later, she would be rushing out again.

I have no choice 'cause I won't say goodbye anymore...

I told myself, though, that day it would happen no longer. I was sick of the cycle; if she deserved better, then this was her chance to find that, but I would throw in the variable to cease the program--stop it on something I could deal with.

We met in the middle as I stood in the way of the door.

"This is it. If you walk out that door, I am not letting you back in, ever. You have a right to find that special thing you call love. You have a right to experience it, and I won't be the one who holds you back. If you never find it, that's your own fault. I tire of these games. I don't mind games once in a while, but this one is ridiculous. Anzu, we don't need to play like this," I finally said.

Wide blue eyes stared at me in return.

Did she really not expect those words from me? Did she think I would enjoy this for the rest of my life? That the ice was so thick I wouldn't feel it every time she walked away from me? When she did what I feared everyone would do to me?

"No answer then? Speechless? You should be. Because I'm dead serious. You have two options right now, you can walk out that door, and never come back--get your make-believe happy ending; find your knight in shining armor riding his damned white horse, I won't lower myself like that for you--or you can stop this."

I handed it to her then.

To me, the ring had cost almost nothing, but the diamond was large enough to capture Anzu's attention. She remained stunned, again, and I moved off to the side to give her free passage to leave. "Are you leaving?"

Maybe she understood. Such things I take far more serious than anyone would think. Emotions are stronger than they get credit for. They are not as weak as first perceived.... They can control you, take over even your mind, until you no longer know who you are, or where you are; hence, I always preferred staying in control. I preferred not giving into these emotions. She knew that.

Perhaps that is why she just smiled and shook her head. Anzu took the shining, golden ring, with the glittering jewel and placed it on her finger. Her lips soon covered mine...and the rest is none of your business.

....

Hn. I've been told that I'm supposed to say, "And we lived happily ever after...."

....

Fine.

And we lived happily ever after.

~The End~
(Finish: 12-4-04)

Fairy Tale of Troubled Dragons

Fri, 19 May 2006 05:36:22 GMT

Reason: ...because it wouldn't leave me alone? It's one of those plotbunnies, with no other reason for existence, other than it's super annoying. I'm just relieved I finally have a seven month old plotbunny out of my head. It was driving me mad.

(Birthday) Gift-fic the second, if Fickle wants it.

Fandom: Yuugiou

Coupling(s): Mastershipping (Seto/Ryuuji - Ryuuji/Seto) and slight Tabloidshipping (Seto/Mokuba) undertones.

Disclaimer: How many times have I said this by now? Honestly...if I owned the characters do you think I would put them through so much he.... Wait, I just remembered all of the child abuse insinuated in canon. Never mind. All the same, no, not mine.

Warnings: This is more like the stuff I wrote towards the end of my stay in the YYH fandom, so a lot of you who are accustomed more to my YGO stuff might be a bit surprised. It's not that dark, but just in case, I'll warn you--DARK. Twisted. Not happy. While we're at it, severe yaoi implications, along with nonconsensual and abusive undertones. While we're at it, if you want to see it that way, there are slight tabloidshipping undertones as well...meaning, yes, incest insinuated. The style is also different.... I know. It's all Fickle's fault. Blame her for not finishing her darkish mastershipping fanfic where Seto kidnaps Ryuuji and keeps him locked up, or blame her for getting me into mastershipping to begin with.

Fairy Tale of Troubled Dragons
5-18-06

He no longer believes in fairy tales; however, he still wasn't ready when Mokuba went off to college, and his lover's name is Otogi. At least, they refer to each other as lovers, even though love has nothing to do with it, and he insists he's completely incapable of emotion--no heart for such complications. Despite how complicated both of them are, they keep the relationship simple, if you can call it a relationship. Ryuuji uses him, and he uses Ryuuji; neither give a sign they're concerned about it.

Yet, every time Seto sees Ryuuji with marks on his arm, he looks away and scowls. He tells himself it's because he remembers what happened to Mokuba in the end, and how he failed him. He could lock Ryuuji up somewhere to force him to quit, but it wouldn't solve anything, just ruin their equation.

At least Mokuba wasn't the only one; everyone has their own guilty pleasures--their little habits they can't break.

Mutou Yuugi, for instance, won't stop dueling. He doesn't have a real job on the side to maintain his habit, just keeps playing games, living life from one duel winnings to the next. His friends say he doesn't think of the other Yuugi when he plays; Seto thinks he needs to grow up.

Jounouchi Katsuya rediscovered fighting, to the point he goes home covered in blood some nights. At least the yakuza pays him well for his services. It's a risky way to spend his nights, Seto thinks, and demands life catch up with him--it's only fair, after all. One lost brother means Jounouchi shouldn't get away with his life style either.

At least Mazaki Anzu's addiction gained her favor in the New York spotlight, but Seto doubts it'll shine on her for much longer. The public is fickle, after all, and how much can a dancer really make? Fame should never be a direct goal, just a side-effect of your aspirations. He's watching her popularity plummet, but notices she can't stop dancing. There's probably more to the story Seto's willing to bet, but he just smirks and waits for time to catch up with everyone.

Honda Hiroto's addiction found him a nice place in jail, and if Seto believed in it, he would imagine his own personal spot in Hell. But he just couldn't stop, could he? Seto can understand obsession, he's been there one too many times, but the ages of the girls made Seto's eyes widen slightly, while Ryuuji cursed Honda, going on and on about all of the things he should endure, and just how he should die. Such explicit detail. Seto ended that tirade by telling Ryuuji he should try some of that out, instead of just wasting his breath. Ryuuji didn't like Seto's response, Seto didn't like Ryuuji's. Seto's pretty sure Ryuuji still has the bruises on his back from that one.

Bakura Ryou spends all of his time in Egypt, and Seto thinks he should move on. He's just as bad as Yuugi, and Seto wonders why they don't just get together and admit to their self-pity instead of hiding behind it, barely walking in their own lives. Ryuuji thinks Seto should stop looking at how Yuugi's group is doing, so Seto points out Ryuuji does it too, and grins every time. Ryuuji decides it's time to get Seto back and ends up asking him how he likes the wall? Did it hurt? Would you like my teeth on your neck any better? What do you mean that's your.... Oh.

Kujaku Mai is slowly killing off her liver. Everyone knows it, everyone's seen it, but Ryuuji's the only one who tried to talk sense into her. Only to fail and end up all over Seto, alcohol on his breath, up Seto's nose, hands somewhere above his head going numb from lack of circulation, accusations painfully whispered in his ear, ripped muscles, burning skin and so many things Seto swore he would return to Ryuuji tenfold. When Ryuuji was sober, of course; otherwise it wouldn't hurt.

Ishtar Malik...no one really knows what happened to him and the other Ishtars, but Seto thinks that's for the best. He doesn't want Ryuuji anywhere near Malik, and sees enough mysterious bruises and marks on Ryuuji--he doesn't need to wonder any further, and have a person he can eradicate. He never confesses to Ryuuji he wants names, he just makes his own marks to ignore them and push everything away.

And when Ryuuji notices the bites on Seto's shoulder? Seto just smirks and tells him he has no right to complain, and what did he expect?

Of course, saving every last e-mail Ryuuji's ever sent, following him when he doesn't notice, sending him random gifts under anonymous, playing this game with violent actions (because he knows Ryuuji's enjoying every minute of it, and if Ryuuji didn't like it, he could stop being so volatile in return, as Ryuuji's the one that started it) and watching him when he walks away--none of that is love. That keeps everything simple.

What starts to complicate things is when Seto bites on his own hand and tries to act like he's enjoying it. Or the times he just hurts, but Ryuuji's too drugged up to notice, and Seto never stops him. If it was anyone else, they would have never gotten this far, but it's Ryuuji.... Ryuuji.... Destructive, poisonous, pretty green eyes hypnotizing him into every motion, until Seto's confused on just what Ryuuji wants, and if he ever figures it out, he'll still refuse to give it to him, all for the sake of show.

He could always tell Ryuuji to stop, but that would give away the truth. Wouldn't Ryuuji just walk away then? Best to give yourself in silence, because no one notices when you do it that way.

There's no where left for Seto to go.

He knows Ryuuji is not Mokuba, and he'll never appreciate it like Mokuba did. That glossy jet-black hair is too tamed in comparison, but while those eyes aren't stormy blue-gray, they shine with the same fervor. Ryuuji also has the same addiction Mokuba had.

But Seto?

Kaiba Seto doesn't have an addiction anyone can point to, and he doesn't need anything. Not fame, not drugs, not alcohol, not money, nor memories.

He has Otogi Ryuuji.

Silver Madness

Mon, 01 May 2006 00:23:48 GMT

Reason: Well, aside from being an early gift-fic, and because I wanted to do this piece, it was a request from Fickle. I don't want to really give everything away, let's just say Fickle prompted me with Yami Bakura and Yami Malik meeting in the Shadow Realm after Battle City and having some witty banter. I'll try.

I know I should have started this a while back, but I was turning thoughts over my head and trying to get inspired. I should have FINISHED ages ago, especially since I knew every step I planned to take.

Thank-you to xinda for beta-reading this piece for characterization.

(Birthday) Gift-fic: fickle_goddess

Fandom: Yuugiou!

Coupling(s): Psychoshipping (Marik/Bakura)

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Yuugiou or Yami Malik or Yami Bakura. No...the creation of these wonderful psychopaths belongs solely to Kazuki Takahashi. I'm just ~~twisting their psychotic attributes to suit my purposes~~ using them for someone's random "You're Special" present.

Warnings: Let's try, I've never written Yami Malik or Yami Bakura anywhere for anything, and I've not even written anything bar fluff for the YGO fandom. Err...unless you count Enigma, but that was still a hopeful piece. Next, there's going to be shounen-ai . Don't like, hey, don't read. I'm doing this for Fickle after all, not the fandom on a whole. Otherwise, this dark and there's blood and implied sex. ^___^;; Any problems?

Silver Madness
( Started: 7-10-05 )

In swirling dark indigo for as far as the eye could see, an image slowly swirled into focus as Dark Malik got closer. The image made his eyes narrow, but his lips curl into a sneer. The reaction of most people while lost in never-ending darkness was to curl up in a corner somewhere, until Dark Malik found them and helped feed them to the Shadows.

Of all the things he expected to see, this silver-haired creature waiting for him was not on Dark Malik's lists of possibilities; however, Dark Bakura smirked, while his eyes stared at Dark Malik. There was no doubt that the other creature of the dark had hopes for revenge. After their encounter, who could blame him.

"Banished here now, Malik? The other Malik.... Whatever the heck your name is. Makes no difference," said Dark Bakura, still with that smirk ever playing on his lips. A hint of curiosity was left by a raise of an eyebrow and the tone of his voice, but Dark Bakura said little else, just watched.

"Oh, but a name is hardly so worthless. It does make a difference. Call me Marik." Insistence delivered with a cold tone, but almost joyous smirk.

There were curled lips and a light flickering of a red tongue. Dark Bakura pulled a knife from one of his many concealed pockets; the sharp steel was always with him. "Then call me Bakura. And you're right--when you're dead, your name becomes 'The Deceased.'"

"Is that a threat?"

"Warning."

"It failed."

Bakura had expected no less for their conversation, but to find shadows slithering around him, pulling Bakura down--those were a disturbing surprise as they sprung from the very essence of the Shadow Realm, bending to Marik's will.

Dark tendrils encased Bakura's ankles and wrists, enticing an enraged demand of, "You can't just do that! We haven't initiated a Dark Game yet, and I've not lost. Knock it off!"

"Correction--there is nothing to lose. You're here for the sole purpose of playing prey." Marik took a few more steps closer to Bakura as the Shadows stretched him out. Numb ice seeped through Bakura's skin, tightening as Marik continued; "Besides, neither of us has an Item."

Annoyed, Bakura growled out, "The Eye?"

"Ha!" Marik's brief laugh was sharp, eyes shut, head tilted upward. He focused his eyes on Bakura once more to ask, "And you will gauge out an eye to implant it?"

Bakura's fingers twitched for nothing, and the question went unanswered.

"I didn't think so; therefore, no Items. Too bad for you." Marik started to twist the blade from Bakura's hand, despite how fingers clenched in a futile attempt to resist. Annoyed by the stubborn reaction, he calmly changed direction and opted to yank at a finger instead, ripping it backwards.

Crack.

"You're not making this easy, pretty thief. Just relax and let me take control." Poison. Every word was spoken with a honey-sweet - Don't listen - note, though Bakura knew it dripped - crimson hatred; lies - sarcasm, somewhere.

Wide brown eyes were the first reaction, then gritted teeth. A snarl finished the procession of pain off as Bakura muttered, "And those idiots think I'm psychotic."

Marik decided he disliked Bakura's commentary, and no verbal response was needed. Why bother when there are so many better things to do with lips. For instance Crush them. sucking on them, teeth - Cutting through - lightly grazing across with taunting - threat of what's to come - promise.

Flesh is so tender, so fragile compared to many things; for instance, steel--a fact Bakura knew, and one Marik enjoyed as he reintroduced it to Bakura. Cold tip, lost in the frigid air around them, glided across and drew blood, just enough to smear. Marik's fingers grabbed a fistful of white hair, then wrenched back.

All the while, his lips never left Bakura's, yet when Bakura bit back, Marik only stopped to grin in return.

****

Red rivulets flowed through silver hair, though the colors were faded in the Shadow Realm, somewhere between pink and gray. From that alone, Marik could assess Bakura had been with him for some time.

A bronze hued hand gently rubbed under Bakura's chin and tilted his head up. Bakura's world became filled with nothing but opaque, cold indigo and ever-bright gold.

"What shall we do today, pretty thief?" Every word was a softly spoken whip crack.

Cracked lips parted, but any response died as Bakura started to fade, pulling back into the "shell" he left behind. A smile formed. "Nothing. I'm finally leaving here. I'll be rid of you now."

Marik's own mouth twisted into a sneer; his parting words were whispered in Bakura's ear as Marik leaned over, one hand digging into Bakura's scalp to pull him closer. "No, pretty thief. Don't fool yourself. You'll never," warm, wet brushed against Bakura's cheek to fill the pause, "be rid of me."

****

Thankfully, the return to Ryou's body did not take long. Once he was ready, Bakura headed out to finish up the necessary plans to return to Egypt and resurrect Zork--a goal that was easily falling into place. So close....

For a moment, Bakura stopped to look at his reflection in one of Ryou's mirrors, relieved to see his color had come back, pale as it was. His lips, smug, started to turn up.

Bakura's smirk fell into a confused frown, then flattened to a line of curiosity as he watched his eyes closely. The pupils were mere black slits, and within the chocolate irises swirled a deep, rich purple, flecking areas with its presence before it filled the entire iris with opaque indigo.

As Marik had warned, Bakura could never leave him.

To that, Bakura lifted his head and, with a sound void of amusement, he laughed.

~End~
(Finished: 4-29-06)

Companion for a CEO

Sat, 15 Apr 2006 06:21:16 GMT

Reason: This piece was inspired by a fanart pic of Seto's finger being nibbled on by a Chibi BEWD. Seriously. I showed it to Mamono one day, then came up with the idea and ran it by her. She liked it, so she's getting it as a gift-fic. >D

Thank-you to xinda for beta-reading this piece for characterization.

(Birthday) Gift-fic: rhapsody_dragon and the_sweet

Fandom: Yuugiou

Coupling(s): None. >D It's a brotherly fluff fic, for crying out loud.

Disclaimer: Don't own the show, the manga, the characters, or even the idea of genies being in lamps.

Warnings: It's just fluff. That's all it is. It doesn't even have a deep, meaningful message hidden inside of it. Well...maybe. You never know with me. I do some of that stuff on accident. *shrugs*

Companion for a CEO
(Finished: 4-10-06)

The dark, musty air of the small, cramped shop was not their usual place to haunt, but Mokuba had insisted they stop at every random shop on the street in New York City. Naturally, he just had to inspect everything that Seto wanted to avoid.

Arms crossed, lips pursed tightly together in a stern line, Seto stood in a shadow, untouched by the dim-lighting and Mokuba happily sorted through dusty item after item. The younger Kaiba had no preset concept of what he wanted, but Mokuba was not just on a search; this was one of those missions where you knew what you wanted when you stumbled across it by accident.

His hands flittered across the room, over tea pots, cups, daggers, candle holders and odds and ends of all types. Curiously, Mokuba's eyes scanned every section of shininess--until at least, he spotted it! The thing he somehow knew he wanted.

It gave off a murky gleam as Mokuba put the tarnished oil lamp under the pale light. "I know! It's a magic lamp, and it'll have a genie in it. And it'll give me three wishes," Mokuba happily announced to his brother with wide, wonder filled eyes. "Isn't it great, 'nii-sama. Can I buy it?"

With exasperation heavily engraved in his tone, Seto--expressionless all the while--told his brother, with as much patience as his sarcastic voice could manage, "Mokuba, magical lamps and genies don't exist."

A blank steel-blue stare followed, but then snapped to attention, while Mokuba's voice took on a sing-song tone as he counted with, "That's what you said about ancient Pharaohs living in other people, and what you said about ancient Egyptian fairy tales--and look what happened there." Naturally, great smugness filled Mokuba's face in shape of a full smirk.

Seto opened his mouth to reply, but all he could drudge up was a partial glare and tightly set lips. 'He's too smart for his own good....'

After a moment, Seto reached for the lamp, which Mokuba willingly handed over, but instead of saying he would buy it for Mokuba, Seto turned his vicious, narrowed eyes on the lamp and commanded, with his voice firm and calm, "All right, magical genie of the lamp, come on out and fulfill our wishes."

All encompassing silence followed as Mokuba and Seto stared at the dull, tarnished lamp. When nothing happened, Mokuba cleared his throat, then pulled on Seto's sleeve, carefully. Recognizing the request, Seto leaned over in Mokuba's direction, and the small teen whispered, "'nii-sama, you're supposed to rub it if you want the genie's attention."

Frustrated growls emitted from Seto's throat as he closed his eyes, secretly reminding himself that all of this humiliation would be worth it in the long run. "Fine." This time, the demand was accompanied by a clear, heavy rub against the metal as Seto said, "Magical genie of the lamp, you're being ordered to appear and grant our wishes." As nothing had happened yet, Seto grinned and taunted, "What? You aren't going to prove me wrong? How pathetic."

The CEO tired of this little game, and simply handed the lamp back to Mokuba. "Obviously it's defective, Mokuba, but it's all yours."

'I think I should be grateful we're not taking a real magical lamp with us.'

"Aw." Mokuba pouted as he gazed down at the hollow piece returned to his hands. "I'll make it work. I bet 'nii-sama just doesn't know how to do it right," Mokuba insisted, out loud, no less.

Finally, all this spectacle of genie inquiring gained the attention of the store owner, who quickly sauntered over to Mokuba. "Of course. That's the problem right there. You have to be a bit more congenial when dealing with magical genies. They do demand a great deal of respect," the owner slyly squeezed in as a wry grin spread across his face; his beady eyes were barely noticeable.

"Oh? So the genie is offended, you think?" Mokuba asked, reaching a logical conclusion from the given information. Or, at least, he felt it was logical; Seto had to roll his eyes. Younger brother or not, Mokuba was being anything but logical in Seto's eyes.

"Oh yes, that's it. He's highly offended, but no doubt you can ease his bruised ego and gain his favor and attention." The owner nodded his head, repeatedly, then offered out, "I'll let that go for ten dollars. Not a bad deal at all."

Now it was Mokuba who bobbed his head up and down, following the shop owner's lead. "Yep! That sounds good to me. Ten bucks--no problem." The money was produced, the transaction placed, and Seto was gratefully leading Mokuba (plus one lamp) out of the shop.

"I hope that's all for today," came a sardonic warning from the elder Kaiba brother. 'The last thing we need is to fill up our American condominium with magical vases, lamps, pets, food and liquids. I think Mokuba needs to be reminded there are better things--realistic things--such as amusement parks, in this world.'

Content with his prize for the day, Mokuba easily agreed, "Sure. I don't need anything else. I don't think. Unless you're in the mood to find Holy Water. I heard--"

"Good. We're going back to the condo then," quickly cut into Mokuba's words as Seto flagged down a taxi. 'Just great. I get proven wrong about one magical Pharaoh and a past from Egypt, and now Mokuba thinks anything supernatural not only exists, but should be used to mock me.'

Now in the taxi, seated in closely to his brother, Mokuba peered up with a beaming smile. "Heh. It's okay, 'nii-sama. I was just playing. We don't need Holy Water anyway. That's for vampires, and I don't think we have a vampire problem.... Well, you're kinda like one. You hardly ever sleep, and you haven't had much to eat in the past couple of weeks. You're starting to get pale and you hardly ever leave your office," the little teen rattled on, his words fast and running into each other as they escaped his mouth. Everything halted, though, slowing as Mokuba asked, "Do you like garlic?"

Blandly, Seto turned, tilted his head down, slightly, and gave the simple reply of, "Yes."

"Well, that's solved then," Mokuba quickly offered up as he turned to face forward. "We don't need Holy Water."

The rest of the ride was made in partial silence--Seto stayed quiet and allowed Mokuba to talk at him.

They arrived back at the condominium, no worse for the ride. Seto walked in with little to no expression, while Mokuba beamed at the prize clutched tightly to his chest. With work to return to for Seto, Mokuba went off his own, a whole night of wish-planning ahead of him.

Once securely in his own room, Mokuba rubbed the lamp and tried to demand, "Genie of the lamp, come out and meet your new master!" but nothing happened. Not even a trail of sparkling dust! With a disappointed pout, Mokuba tilted the lamp over and peered inside to see if maybe the glitter-indicating magic dust was just taking a while to form.

Nothing.

With his lips protruding in frustration and upset, Mokuba slumped onto his bed, hands in his lap, lamp laying in their limp grasp. "Look, I know you're in there somewhere. You have to be, because I didn't want the wish for me," Mokuba explained to the lamp, his voice very different now; soft and wistful.

"I want it for my 'nii-sama. I'm really worried about him, because he spends all of his time alone, with computers. He needs a companion; someone other than me. I was thinking maybe a puppy or something, but at this point, anything will do."

When his heartfelt plea reaped no results, Mokuba scowled at the dull object and promptly threw it against one wall.

As Mokuba further collapsed on his bed, he muttered, "Stupid thing. 'nii-sama was right. Just a waste of money."

Somewhere in the early morning hours of the morning, Seto tried once more to rub his eyes in hopes the blurry view would clear, but he had no luck. With a frustrated sigh, he finally turned off his computer to retreat for bed in an abnormal move, forced by the interference.

Unbeknownst to him, a spirit followed him closely, watched him carefully, then sized up his own aura and spirit. While Seto slept, the spirit picked a form and a bright light, curled up into a ball, started to appear on the pillow next to Seto's. So deep in sleep he was that he failed to notice the slightly blue shine.

In the morning's light, however, Seto could not miss the tiny metal dragon sound asleep next to him. Blue eyes wide, Seto sat up at once, then poked at the creature. "How did you get in here?"

There was an aggravated twitch of the dragons tail, then blue eyes opened to stare back at Seto, narrowed slant seething of being woken up too soon.

"Well? What are you?" Seto tried once more as he lifted one of the wings. It looked so much like a Blue Eyes White Dragon, only...miniaturized.

Unable to give a verbal response, the dragon curled up the other way, back facing Seto and settled back down on the pillow, head low. This was interpreted by Seto to mean it wanted to retreat to slumber instead of answer his question. It could just be a hologram, a very well made hologram that Seto thought he was touching, right?

Seto reached out to poke the dragon again, but this time it was ready. Blue eyes had remained opened, watched for another attempt, and when the little dragon noticed, it took off flying from the pillow to get away from the harassment. Did Seto not understand the importance of sleep for dragons?

Apparently not.

His own eyes slanted into aggravation now as Seto told it, "Knock it off," yet his words went unheeded as the dragon flew right at him. On instinct, Seto's arm flew out, the back of his hand catching the dragon in mid-flight. It reeled across the air, then landed with a heavy thud on the other side of the bed.

It took Seto a moment to realize what he had done--and for his hand to feel the deep sting clinging to his bones, marked by red across normally light skin. Grimacing, he made a mental note to watch his reflexes, and peered over the side of the bed. "That's what you get for aiming to attack me," he chided.

There was a definite sound of disapproval and upset--something like chirped growl--as the dragon shook its head. It tilted its head up and proceeded to give Seto large, watery eyes.

"You have to be kidding me...."

One thing his subconscious picked up; 'It's not a hologram, Seto.' The problem was Seto's ability to root himself in deep denial and ignore his subconscious. Besides, the dragon's reactions reminded him oddly of Mokuba.

'Of course. He programmed this thing. He's capable of that. I wonder what he was trying to prove.... Probably that lamp of his. He could have set up a projector somewhere.' Intent on solving this current mystery, Seto, silk blue pajamas giving him at least some comfort by sliding over the slightly burning hand, left his bed in search of where the hologram was projected from. He waved his hand in front of it from every angle possible, but never a spot of it disappeared.

"Odd. And why am I talked to a projection?"

Determined now, Seto lifted the little dragon from the floor--it perked up and seemed to smile, snuggling into Seto's hands--and headed straight for Mokuba's door. With a few sharp, business-like knocks, Mokuba answered the door, one hand sleepily rubbing one eye as the blue-eyed teen asked, "What is it, 'nii-sama?"

'So early? Why is he waking me up this early on a weekend? Are we going somewhere and I forgot?'

Thrusting the thing into Mokuba's hands, Seto said, "Okay, this little practical joke has gone far enough. How are you pulling off the pint-sized Blue Eyes White Dragon?"

"Huh?" Mokuba took a moment to let those words clear out the early morning fog settled in his mind, and looked at the dragon now peacefully laying in his hands. "Pint sized....?" Steel blue eyes widened as he continued to stare. Finally, a smile broke across his face as he absently said, "It worked after all! There really is a genie in the lamp!"

"Mokuba, not that nonsense again. I'm not falling for that trick," Seto warned him, but to no avail. Mokuba had shoved the tiny dragon back in Seto's own hands, and was now back in his room, thanking the lamp profusely.

Seto opened his mouth to ask again what was going on, when Mokuba rushed out of the room and hugged him tightly. Just as Seto was about to catch himself again and attempt another question, Mokuba turned to the dragon, started to talk it and poked it. "Hello there! I'm Kaiba Mokuba. What should we call you? Oh, can't talk, can you? What a shame. I'll try to think of a name for you, okay? And this is my 'nii-sama. You're his now. I hope you don't mind. I'm sure he'll take good care of you, either way. What do you eat? Wait...can't answer me. That's going to be a problem. I guess we could feed you goldfish--that's what small snakes eat."

And on he went, which left Seto standing awkwardly in the hallway for a moment.

After a while of this, Seto simply muttered, "I just woke up from a dream," and headed straight back to his room for a shower. The shower would prove he had barely risen from bed, and a few hours of work would set everything straight again.

The dragon, on the other hand, canted its head in Seto's direction, seemed to pout, then flew from Mokuba's hands and followed after Seto.

Happily, Mokuba shouted after it, "I hope you have a good morning. Keep 'nii-sama happy. Learn some tricks for him, or something. Okay?"

Seto's shower went as normal as always, except his eyes were closed through most of it. He tried to rationalize this with such thoughts as, 'I slept too much. See, sleeping is addictive, therefore bad for me. Now I can't force my eyes stay open properly.'

The little dragon was confused by this and just flew around Seto, refusing to lose sight of him, even if it meant he had to fly over strange glass walls. Needless to say, the dragon had a view just about every girl at Domino High would kill to have.

Once that was taken care of and Seto was properly dressed, he entered his study once again. With a simple press of a button, his computer was turned on, so Seto could sit at his desk comfortably and ignore all matters of the outside world; including nonexistent flying holograms.

Those little wings could only beat the air for so long, though; eventually, the tiny Blue Eyes White Dragon had to rest. It landed--as gently as possible--on Seto's desk; however, right on the paper Seto was about to pluck up.

The resulting rip seemed to resound in place of the humming wings, and Seto turned vindictive at once as he grabbed every other paper from the stack and pulled them out from under the little dragon.

"You...!" Taking a deep breath, Seto stood up, eyes narrowing to mere slits as he seethed. "That was important. You have no business on my desk." His angry words were punctuated with a smack from the papers viciously landing on the dragon's head. "Do you not understand? I want you to go away and leave me alone, before you cause anymore destruction."

Blue eyes widened, and a shiny silver head lowered as the little dragon peered up at Seto. With its tail drooped, the dragon decided it would be best to just do as Seto said, considering the murderous glint in the CEO's eyes. It turned and started to walk away, but failed to calculate how far the edge of the desk was....

At first, Seto blinked, then tossed the papers somewhere on his desk as he lunged to catch the dragon. Confused, he asked, "What were you thinking? What do you have wings for if you don't plan to use them?"

The dragon made an incoherent sound of bafflement itself, and found itself on Seto's shoulder as the CEO pat its head.

'I couldn't have possibly struck it hard enough to disorientate it. ...Could I?' Seto inquired of himself, staring at the scattered papers with a light glare.

"You aren't supposed to walk off of desks, and you shouldn't have been on mine in the first place. My shoulder is far more suitable." Another light pat accompanied Seto's words as he took his seat again, only to be distracted by a light feeling of sharp bone grind on one of his fingers. He turned to see the dragon nibbling at the skin.

Seto raised an eyebrow; the dragon's stomach emitted a clear grumble.

"I see. You're hungry?"

A vivacious nod responded, and Seto sighed.

"I suppose the work can wait," he acquiesced to a mental war the dragon missed. It consisted of many arguments in favor of accomplishing the work first, then reminders Seto had yet to have breakfast himself. Then there was the counter argument of how Seto could go some time without a meal, but followed by a reminder the program was almost completed anyway--a little time set aside for food would hardly hurt.

With the dragon on his shoulder, Seto left the study, intent on finding something to eat. But...what was one supposed to feed a nonexistent pet dragon?

In Seto's wake was the transparent image of a woman, long white hair twirling behind her as she twisted into a turn, one hand reaching out to her left, to an equally translucent man in blue and white robes.

"I think they're really cute," she gleefully told him as he took her hand, then pulled her close to him. "I think Kaiba-sama needs companionship, and Mokuba-san has the right idea."

He had to chuckle with agreement. "Yes...I suppose you're right. He needs that, but I think he needs something more than just a magical pet. Besides, we don't know how long that enchantment will last, as we don't know anything about the lamp." He paused for a moment to turn her hand with his, and twirled the female in place.

"We don't know who's in there and how they managed to make that little Blue Eyes White Dragon. Besides, we can't stay with him forever."

Large blue eyes scrunched up for a moment, and then stared up at the male as a simple white peasant robe switched into a flourishing silk blue and white kimono. "I know. He doesn't really need us any longer. But I like to think we should stick around a bit longer. After all, he does need someone." She offered up a gentle smile, then twirled herself back into the male, clinging close to his no longer existing body.

"We should stay with him until he has someone in his life, yes?" the male questioned. The last thing he wanted to do was abandon Seto.

"That's exactly what I was thinking. I'll find another dragon--like me."

"Like you, but you are human just.... Oh." Blue eyes widened for a moment, then the ancient priest/pharaoh smiled down at the female. "Good idea, Kisara. You think you can manage to alter things just right?"

"I can try. And if I can't influence events, I can attempt to influence Kaiba-sama."

A self-satisfied smirk was fixed on the priest's face now. "Sounds good to me. But we have to go now, he's moving fast, and we have stick by his side."

"We have no choice," Kisara agreed as she and and the priest were pulled after Seto.

From there it can be assumed they all lived happily ever after; however, if they were blissful it wasn't because Seto believed in fairy tales now, but because he was that determined to make Mokuba's life fantastic. This meant his own had to be enjoyable, of course.

Introduction

Fri, 23 Dec 2005 20:17:00 GMT

What is this?
Originally, I set up another journal for this purpose.

I've changed my mind.

It will now house my fics, and only my fics (perhaps teasers).

Secrecy
Anyone who knows who I am--please don't say a thing. This is cut off from anything else I do FOR A REASON. In advance, I thank-you for understanding and doing as I ask.

Thankfully, lj's new tag system makes it easy to group entries together. For instance, I can split the fandoms, keep the two introductions also seperate from fics, and keep the teasers; it makes everything easier to find.

That done, you know what to do: Add if you like. Secrecy is expected and appreciated; if you can't do that for me, I won't be posting for you.

Adding Policy
Add if you like, I will add you in return if I recognize who you are. Don't expect comments from a fiction journal, though, unless you give me your fiction or creative journal in return. I do plan to add creative journals on this account.

When I start posting fics, I'll link to the tag sections here for the fandoms. <3 That is all for now.

Links

Introduction
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Birthday Gift-fics
Challenges
Requests
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Angel Sanctuary
Final Fantasy VII
Kingdom Hearts
Yuugiou