(no subject)
Feb. 25th, 2005 12:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_goldenpathTitle: Rest my soul, Darling
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Pairings: Yamis all the way, unrequited love
Warnings: none really- a bit of drama, angst and sap. Minor foul language.
Summary: They’re all together in the same room, thinking about each other, and feeling about each other, in their own way.
Author’s note: (unbeta-ed, bit on the weird side) written for my fellow Yami x 3 lovers on the flist, but a little bit for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
yami_tai and mookiegatto especially, just because. ^____^ Feedback greatly appreciated.
Key:
----------------- = scene change
--------------------------
I smile and nod my head; yes, I would like to have a refill. It’s cold outside – I really don’t like the winter season – and nice, hot tea really helps chasing away the shivers. It’s pretty crowded in the room; we’re all here, thanks to Anzu’s continuous efforts to organize a monthly get-together. Everybody is so busy with school and work nowadays, that we all have to pull out our agendas to set a date.
He’s here too. They’re both here, but I don’t care as much for the other as I do for this one. A dark side. A yami. In private, I refer to him as a yami, should I talk about him, though I take great care of not talking about him too much without arising suspicion. In public, I settle for a polite, semi-friendly “Bakura-san”. He hears me, even when he’s not supposed to hear me- like now, when he has his full attention on the other one. The other yami, the one who caused so much grief and pain and is the living embodiment of hate and anger. I know why you like him so much. He has even less limits and boundaries than you, waltzing and crushing everyone and everybody who crosses his path. He doesn’t use violence any more, but his tongue is sharp and bitter and causes you great pleasure, as you watch as he reduces friendly words and approaches to dust.
He excites you, doesn’t he? This wildness, this limitless-ness that surrounds him. Am I the only one who sees that he doesn’t care, that he won’t care ever, and that he throws you away after he has used you? I understand. I so understand, more than you’ll ever know. I don’t have much to offer you but stability and comfort, two things that makes you run away as fast as your legs can carry you, to retreat back to the shadows. Ah, the tea has arrived. I pick up the small sugar pot and spoon a little bit of sugar in my tea. I don’t want it to taste too bitter. This is the only thing I can sweeten for myself.
-----------
Of course I want a refill and hurry it up a little. I abhor the cold and winters and snow – I need the heat of the tea to keep me warm. Stupid tea. I prefer coffee instead; if we were at home, I’d demanded some coffee, but I’m here now with the Pharaoh in plain sight, so I better try to ‘behave’ before he gets it into his arrogant head to mind-crush me. I don’t care for this stupid get-togethers, but this time it’s my only chance of seeing him.
He’s here too. They’re both here, but I don’t give a fuck about the Pharaoh and I only want to see him, though I doubt he sees me. You don’t ever speak his name aloud, you don’t ever venture close to him, but you’re looking at him. Why are you looking at him? He’s another yami, but he’s not a yami in the same sense as we are; there’s nothing dark left about him. Look at him, adding sugar to his tea, sitting like nothing has ever changed and he’s still ruling the world as we know it. It surprised me that no one is stirring his tea for him. I know why you like him. You want to take him and break him all by yourself, wiping that all-knowing smirk off his face and showing him how a yami’s supposed to be. He blends in the background, there’s nothing outstanding about him, and he’s smiling and nodding and generally being everybody’s best friend. He sickens me.
He fascinates you, doesn’t he? The air of royalty, the overconfident attitude, his strong-on-the-outside posture. I understand. I so understand, more than you’ll ever know. I’d like to offer you some help, but I know you want to do this alone. You want to have him for yourself and shroud yourself once again in the shadows. You want to be alone as you’ve always been, with the remains of the destruction you’ve caused. Finally, the tea! Stupid wench. I pick up the small dish with the sliced lemon and I squirt hard. I don’t want it to taste too sweet. This is the only thing I can give myself; sourness.
------------
A refill. Now. I hate the cold, I hate the fucking snow and I hate everything winter. I’m used to the heat of the Egyptian desert, what else do you think? Tea is good for some warmth. I hate these idiotic get-togethers, but it’s one time only; next week, we’re back on the plane. Coming over in the coldest season of the year was the stupidest fucking thing they ever could think of.
He’s here too. They’re both here, but I couldn’t care less about the Pharaoh and even less about the Tomb Robber. Still, it’s another opportunity to see you and remind me of the things I have left to do in order to get my revenge. You’re talking about me, why I haven’t changed, but I severely doubt that you hear yourself; as your eyes avert to the Tomb Robber more often than once. He’s squeezing a lemon for his tea; he has a very strong grip. Everything is strong and raw about him; his blazing eyes, his thin lips, his diamond white hair that cascades over his back. I know why you like him so much. He’s everything you aren’t- free, limitless, uncaring, alive. He isn’t bound by oaths or obligations, by rules of friendship or alliances. He has tenaciously searched his own way through everything, digging and clawing, but remaining free, all on his own.
He intrigues you, doesn’t he? This stubbornness, this will to fight, his raw, unpolished attitude. I understand. I so understand, more than you’ll ever know. I have nothing to offer you but pain and pleasure combined, deep-ridden hatred and anger that you’ll always deny. The shadows however, rejoice in the knowledge that nothing could ever come to pass between a Pharaoh and a Thief. That took long enough, stupid girl. It’s not that hard to get me some tea! I pick up the jar of honey, amused by the looks that people give me, and spoon some in my tea. I don’t want it to taste too bitter or sour- I want it to taste sickly sweet, as sweet as the revenge that once will be mine. This is the only thing I can do to keep myself satisfied.
-----------
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Pairings: Yamis all the way, unrequited love
Warnings: none really- a bit of drama, angst and sap. Minor foul language.
Summary: They’re all together in the same room, thinking about each other, and feeling about each other, in their own way.
Author’s note: (unbeta-ed, bit on the weird side) written for my fellow Yami x 3 lovers on the flist, but a little bit for
yami_tai and mookiegatto especially, just because. ^____^ Feedback greatly appreciated.Key:
----------------- = scene change
--------------------------
I smile and nod my head; yes, I would like to have a refill. It’s cold outside – I really don’t like the winter season – and nice, hot tea really helps chasing away the shivers. It’s pretty crowded in the room; we’re all here, thanks to Anzu’s continuous efforts to organize a monthly get-together. Everybody is so busy with school and work nowadays, that we all have to pull out our agendas to set a date.
He’s here too. They’re both here, but I don’t care as much for the other as I do for this one. A dark side. A yami. In private, I refer to him as a yami, should I talk about him, though I take great care of not talking about him too much without arising suspicion. In public, I settle for a polite, semi-friendly “Bakura-san”. He hears me, even when he’s not supposed to hear me- like now, when he has his full attention on the other one. The other yami, the one who caused so much grief and pain and is the living embodiment of hate and anger. I know why you like him so much. He has even less limits and boundaries than you, waltzing and crushing everyone and everybody who crosses his path. He doesn’t use violence any more, but his tongue is sharp and bitter and causes you great pleasure, as you watch as he reduces friendly words and approaches to dust.
He excites you, doesn’t he? This wildness, this limitless-ness that surrounds him. Am I the only one who sees that he doesn’t care, that he won’t care ever, and that he throws you away after he has used you? I understand. I so understand, more than you’ll ever know. I don’t have much to offer you but stability and comfort, two things that makes you run away as fast as your legs can carry you, to retreat back to the shadows. Ah, the tea has arrived. I pick up the small sugar pot and spoon a little bit of sugar in my tea. I don’t want it to taste too bitter. This is the only thing I can sweeten for myself.
-----------
Of course I want a refill and hurry it up a little. I abhor the cold and winters and snow – I need the heat of the tea to keep me warm. Stupid tea. I prefer coffee instead; if we were at home, I’d demanded some coffee, but I’m here now with the Pharaoh in plain sight, so I better try to ‘behave’ before he gets it into his arrogant head to mind-crush me. I don’t care for this stupid get-togethers, but this time it’s my only chance of seeing him.
He’s here too. They’re both here, but I don’t give a fuck about the Pharaoh and I only want to see him, though I doubt he sees me. You don’t ever speak his name aloud, you don’t ever venture close to him, but you’re looking at him. Why are you looking at him? He’s another yami, but he’s not a yami in the same sense as we are; there’s nothing dark left about him. Look at him, adding sugar to his tea, sitting like nothing has ever changed and he’s still ruling the world as we know it. It surprised me that no one is stirring his tea for him. I know why you like him. You want to take him and break him all by yourself, wiping that all-knowing smirk off his face and showing him how a yami’s supposed to be. He blends in the background, there’s nothing outstanding about him, and he’s smiling and nodding and generally being everybody’s best friend. He sickens me.
He fascinates you, doesn’t he? The air of royalty, the overconfident attitude, his strong-on-the-outside posture. I understand. I so understand, more than you’ll ever know. I’d like to offer you some help, but I know you want to do this alone. You want to have him for yourself and shroud yourself once again in the shadows. You want to be alone as you’ve always been, with the remains of the destruction you’ve caused. Finally, the tea! Stupid wench. I pick up the small dish with the sliced lemon and I squirt hard. I don’t want it to taste too sweet. This is the only thing I can give myself; sourness.
------------
A refill. Now. I hate the cold, I hate the fucking snow and I hate everything winter. I’m used to the heat of the Egyptian desert, what else do you think? Tea is good for some warmth. I hate these idiotic get-togethers, but it’s one time only; next week, we’re back on the plane. Coming over in the coldest season of the year was the stupidest fucking thing they ever could think of.
He’s here too. They’re both here, but I couldn’t care less about the Pharaoh and even less about the Tomb Robber. Still, it’s another opportunity to see you and remind me of the things I have left to do in order to get my revenge. You’re talking about me, why I haven’t changed, but I severely doubt that you hear yourself; as your eyes avert to the Tomb Robber more often than once. He’s squeezing a lemon for his tea; he has a very strong grip. Everything is strong and raw about him; his blazing eyes, his thin lips, his diamond white hair that cascades over his back. I know why you like him so much. He’s everything you aren’t- free, limitless, uncaring, alive. He isn’t bound by oaths or obligations, by rules of friendship or alliances. He has tenaciously searched his own way through everything, digging and clawing, but remaining free, all on his own.
He intrigues you, doesn’t he? This stubbornness, this will to fight, his raw, unpolished attitude. I understand. I so understand, more than you’ll ever know. I have nothing to offer you but pain and pleasure combined, deep-ridden hatred and anger that you’ll always deny. The shadows however, rejoice in the knowledge that nothing could ever come to pass between a Pharaoh and a Thief. That took long enough, stupid girl. It’s not that hard to get me some tea! I pick up the jar of honey, amused by the looks that people give me, and spoon some in my tea. I don’t want it to taste too bitter or sour- I want it to taste sickly sweet, as sweet as the revenge that once will be mine. This is the only thing I can do to keep myself satisfied.
-----------
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-02-25 01:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-25 05:17 pm (UTC)Thank you for the compliment! *blushes*
no subject
Date: 2005-02-25 06:33 pm (UTC)And you're welcome! Talent should be recongised and praised! XD
no subject
Date: 2005-02-25 04:52 pm (UTC)O.O
o.o
You're good!
Now put that effort forth to pairing them with Shizuka.
no subject
Date: 2005-02-25 05:19 pm (UTC)With Shizuka, eh? I've never written her before, maybe I can give it a try. ~ponders~
no subject
Date: 2005-02-25 05:21 pm (UTC)The things I put her throught...XD
DO IT!
Yami no Bakura/Shizuka is hawt.
no subject
Date: 2005-02-25 05:31 pm (UTC)Do you keep her the same age as in the anime, though? I believe she was thirteen?
I prefer Yami no Bakura/Yami no Marik, but I'm not a rabid anti-het person nor a rabid all-and-only-yaoi fan. I'm open to a lots of things, and Yami no Bakura/Shizuka is going on the list o' plotbunnies. ^^
no subject
Date: 2005-02-25 05:35 pm (UTC)YnB/YnM would be a very destructive pairing. I wouldn't mind getting in the middle of that. How about a YnB/Shizuka/YnM? *giggles insanely*
no subject
Date: 2005-02-25 05:47 pm (UTC)I do have pairings in my fic, but it's not the main ingredient, so to say. I don't feel comfortable writing lemon/sex scenes in general, so I leave the rest to the imagination. YnB/YnM is a lot of cursing and violence in my book ^^.
YnB/Shizuka/YnM? Do you have a plotbunny or should we write something together? ^__________^
no subject
Date: 2005-02-25 05:51 pm (UTC)Shizuka is younger than Jounouchi...Yuugi-tachi is around 16, I think, or maybe 17, and I've heard from some sources that Seto's as old as 18. I'm not sure where in the manga it actually states ages, but Shizuka's not that much younger than Jou. Plus she looks far too well-developed to be 13.
I'm already writing a YnB/Shizuka/YnM fanfic. It kind of hit a dead end though. ^_^ I'd love to collab though, I love writing with people!
no subject
Date: 2005-02-25 05:58 pm (UTC)They're barely 16, indeed. Kind of reminds me of Gundam Wing (my former main fandom- YGO has taken it over), where everybody was 15 and the top executive chief was 23 or something. *dies*
What's the synopsis of your story? Maybe we can agree to something; write separate chapters or something.
no subject
Date: 2005-02-25 06:05 pm (UTC)*giggles* I love those odd age pairings.
Well, pretty much, Yami no Malik defeated Yami no Yuugi in the final duel. Yami no Malik proceeds to go on a rampage and kill everybody (possibly) save for Shizuka, whom he's keeping around not only for smut/torture reasons, but because she's a Key, the one thing he needs to sacrifice in order to open a portal to Lovecraftian evil. Yami no Bakura had the foresight to give Shizuka a magicked locket which led him back from the shadows he was banished to, and he, too, wants Shizuka, if only to keep Yami no Malik from using her to summon evil since he took away poor Bakura's vengeance.
It's called Endgame and you can read it here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2076875/1/
There's also a companion piece of Bakura kind of planting ideas in Shizuka's head here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2237004/1/