This is ENTIRLY my Lit teacher's fault.
I wrote something that is half-crack!fic, half-almost-MalikBakurafluff (hikari-of-the-ring, not spirit-of-the-ring, and still another half mini!fic
Written in the style of Raymond Carver. (Or as close as a non-alcoholic, non American female can get anyway.)
Mrs A, I am *so* going to kill you. -_-()
I still can't belive I wrote something MalikBakura-ish.
I'm not particually fond of MalikBakura (either one, actually). I'll read it, sometimes, when I'm decent-non-read-fic starved, but.... it's really quite Meh-worthy. Bakubaku is so much more fun, and can be justified as pure cannon. According to me, anyway.
Never, EVER thought I'd write one.
Damn you, Mrs A, and your write-in-the-style-of-Caver-NOW-or-suffer-my-Ultimate-3vil-WRATH moments. -_- Stoopid 3vil crazy grandma-teachers. -_-()
Anyway, fic is in need of a title. Anyone got one?
Title: [none, yet.]
Genre: Is Carver-esque a genre? I think it should be.
Pairings: Kinda MalikBakura. Oo
Rating: I'd say G, but little kids probably won't get it.
Words: 270
Warnings/Comments: Oddness. And my mind is giving me Kurama-Bakura similarity vibes. There has to be a warning for that.
"Why do you put up with it?" asks Malik. Malik is the prettiest man I've met. And he knows it, gods does he know it.
"It doesn't matter." I say, and walk into the kitchen to get us drinks. Malik waits at the door. He isn't aloud in my kitchen. He knows that too.
"Yes is does." he says, and sips at his drink. We sit down at the couch, and I think about turning the TV on, to try and distract him. I don't - it would probably just encourage him.
"I mean, you just can't let people treat you like that!" he says, and pouts at me. Idiot.
"It doesn't hurt anyone. It doesn't matter." I say.
"It does matter. You've got to keep your self-respect, you know." he says. That's about the difference between us. He cares about other people.
I pick up the book I was reading last night. I know I'll be hearing about it until the others get here. Malik's like that.
"You can't let them do that! It's wrong! It's degrading! Treating you like... like you're just a thing, not a person." he says.
"They didn't even say anything. I don't see what you're getting so worked up about." I say.
"They didn't need to!" he says, one hand flailing wildly with the other clutches his drink. Eventually he calms down. He looks at his drink, resigned. We've had this conversation before.
"I mean gods, Baku." he says "If nothing else, it's a threat to your masculinity." he says.
"I know. It is. It still doesn't matter." I say, and smile at him.
In other news, I SWEAR the wrapping machine is out to get me. Can we say Ultimate 3vil?
Written in the style of Raymond Carver. (Or as close as a non-alcoholic, non American female can get anyway.)
Mrs A, I am *so* going to kill you. -_-()
I still can't belive I wrote something MalikBakura-ish.
I'm not particually fond of MalikBakura (either one, actually). I'll read it, sometimes, when I'm decent-non-read-fic starved, but.... it's really quite Meh-worthy. Bakubaku is so much more fun, and can be justified as pure cannon. According to me, anyway.
Never, EVER thought I'd write one.
Damn you, Mrs A, and your write-in-the-style-of-Caver-NOW-or-suffer-my-Ultimate-3vil-WRATH moments. -_- Stoopid 3vil crazy grandma-teachers. -_-()
Anyway, fic is in need of a title. Anyone got one?
Title: [none, yet.]
Genre: Is Carver-esque a genre? I think it should be.
Pairings: Kinda MalikBakura. Oo
Rating: I'd say G, but little kids probably won't get it.
Words: 270
Warnings/Comments: Oddness. And my mind is giving me Kurama-Bakura similarity vibes. There has to be a warning for that.
"Why do you put up with it?" asks Malik. Malik is the prettiest man I've met. And he knows it, gods does he know it.
"It doesn't matter." I say, and walk into the kitchen to get us drinks. Malik waits at the door. He isn't aloud in my kitchen. He knows that too.
"Yes is does." he says, and sips at his drink. We sit down at the couch, and I think about turning the TV on, to try and distract him. I don't - it would probably just encourage him.
"I mean, you just can't let people treat you like that!" he says, and pouts at me. Idiot.
"It doesn't hurt anyone. It doesn't matter." I say.
"It does matter. You've got to keep your self-respect, you know." he says. That's about the difference between us. He cares about other people.
I pick up the book I was reading last night. I know I'll be hearing about it until the others get here. Malik's like that.
"You can't let them do that! It's wrong! It's degrading! Treating you like... like you're just a thing, not a person." he says.
"They didn't even say anything. I don't see what you're getting so worked up about." I say.
"They didn't need to!" he says, one hand flailing wildly with the other clutches his drink. Eventually he calms down. He looks at his drink, resigned. We've had this conversation before.
"I mean gods, Baku." he says "If nothing else, it's a threat to your masculinity." he says.
"I know. It is. It still doesn't matter." I say, and smile at him.
In other news, I SWEAR the wrapping machine is out to get me. Can we say Ultimate 3vil?