Post by Rockinmuffin on Jul 29, 2006 21:40:40 GMT -5
Don’t ask what inspired me to write such a strange story because I haven’t a clue. Here’s the jist of it; in a past life long ago you came across a strange bottle. You found a genie and you both fell in love and lived happily together until your death. Of course, genies can’t die so his body (and bottle) lived on thousands of more years to come.
Oh, and did I mention that the genie was a male and that in your past life you were a male as well? (AHHH! YAOI!) xD Well, you were. Now, in your current life, you’re a girl and you just so happen to come across a mysterious bottle…
And don’t let the fact that you were a male in a past life throw you away from the story; you’re a girl now so you won’t necessarily have a yaoi relationship! Though, there will probably be lots of mentions of yaoi and yuri in this story… Please don’t let my weirdness tear you away from this story! TT__TT It’ll get better, I swear!
I also would like to apologize in advance if this chapter starts out too slow, especially the beginning, but it’s sort of an introductory chapter that helps set up the mood and the plot for the rest of the story so hopefully it will be smooth sailing from here on. Just bear with me, peoples!
Warnings: mention of yaoi, perversion, randomness, some adult themes, talk of reincarnation, and misuse of magical powers.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Yu-Gi-Oh, but in a fair and just world… I still wouldn’t own Yu-Gi-Oh. So blah, no suing for you! And this disclaimer applies to all chapters.
Chapter 1: A New Beginning!
You sighed, bored out of your mind, as you browsed lazily through a random shelf in the antique shop your mom dragged you to. She had insisted that you come with her to help her pick out some furniture for the living room. You had protested, telling her that she could buy some new furniture for nearly half the price she would have to pay for used antiques but she wouldn’t hear of it. You also told her that there was no point in dragging you to the antique shop to help her pick out furniture because she never listened to your opinion anyway but she just ignored you and forced you to come along with her anyway.
Your eye twitched as you looked distastefully around the old shop full of useless junk. Dust covered nearly everything and the store smelled oddly of old mothballs and cheese that had been left out in the sun for a few days too long; it was a rather unpleasant smell that you hoped you would never have to experience in your young life ever again. The shop itself was fairly small and was cramped up with plenty of useless old junk that no one in their right mind would buy, leaving you with a slight claustrophobic feeling.
…Not to mention the grumpy old man of a shop keeper kept sending you strange looks ranging from anger to some strange sort of senile seduction. You weren’t sure what the shopkeeper was up to but you knew one thing for sure; you certainly didn’t want to meet up with him in a dark alley any time soon.
You huffed. “What a way to spend my birthday” you muttered to yourself
“Ooooh! _____, come here!” your mother called excitedly as she eyed an extremely old and tacky coffee table. “Isn’t this table just the cutest little thing you’ve ever seen?! It’s the perfect size and shape and I know just where I’d like to put it.” She smiled as she turned her head towards you. “Don’t you just think it’s adorable?”
You narrowed your eyes at the ugly piece of furniture. “If I told you I thought it was hideous and that I loathed it with the white-hot intensity of one thousand burning suns then would that have any effect on your opinion?”
“…No.”
“I think it’s the bees’ knees” you sighed sarcastically while rolling your eyes, though it appeared your mother hadn’t noticed your gesture or your sardonic tone as her smile brightened. “Can you just buy the stupid thing so we can go home now? I know of thousands of better ways to spend my Saturday than to waste it away in this putrid old shop.”
Your mother turned towards you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Aww, honey, you’re just cranky because it’s that time of the month” she reasoned as she ruffled your hair, ignoring the look of pure evil you directed towards her.
You glared daggers at your mother. “I hate you” you hissed as you pulled away from her, doing your best to use your fingers to smooth out your hair. “And FYI, it’s not that time of the month. I’m cranky because everything in this shop smells worse than a used diaper and you’re forcing me to waste my life away here. This is one hour of my precious childhood that I’ll never be able to get back.”
Your mother’s smile widened even more, if that was humanly possible, and she laughed lightly as she pinched your cheeks. “You’re so cute when you’re trying to act all cynical!” She chuckled at your ever-hardening glare. “I know why you’re acting so irritable; you thought I forgot your birthday, didn’t you?! Shame on you! I’d never forget your birthday! I was in labor for over thirty-six hours because of your big ol’ watermelon head!”
“…Mom, what did I tell you about discussing the birthing process when we’re in public?”
She ignored you. “One of the reasons I brought you here was so you could pick out a nice birthday present!” Your mother smiled proudly at herbrilliant idea.
For the second time today your eye twitched. You stared at the woman you called your mother, an expression of sheer horror evident over your features. You then turned around, ignoring the suggestive wiggle of the elderly shop keep’s eyebrows, and stared at all the rusted, old, tacky pieces of junk that covered every inch of the small shop. Your head got dizzy as you looked at all the antiquities and it gave you a small migraine. You growled at the items for their mockery.
Once your migraine started to settle down, you turned back towards your mother, hoping that her earlier statement was just some sort of sick, sadistic joke, but the look on her face told you that she was beyond serious.
“Why don’t you look around more closely and pick something nice out?” your mother suggested helpfully, grabbing hold of your shoulders and guiding you to the back of the store. “Just be sure to not pick out anything too expensive; I’m not made out of money, ya know!”
“Mom… This is very…” You searched for the right word. “…Thoughtful of you, but it really isn’t necessary. If you wanna do something special then we can both go out to dinner or something…”
“Oh nonsense!” your mother interjected. “We can go out to dinner any old time. I want to get you something special for your birthday; something unique and one-of-a-kind!” As you saw your mother’s eyes shine dreamily with determination, you knew then and there that you weren’t going to leave that shop without some sort of strange antiquity in your arms. As odd as the idea was, your mother seemed to have put a lot of thought into it and you didn’t have the heart to tell her how much you hated antiques.
So, with a sigh of resignation, you directed your attention towards a shelf in front of you. The shelf held several glass dolls on it, each with perfect curls, icy blue eyes, and its own intricately-designed dress with frills and ribbons and more details than your best dress clothes. Their cold, unblinking stare unnerved you so you focused on something a lot less creepy; you found such an item on the shelf below the dolls.
This object appeared to be a bottle but it was much fancier than the glass coke bottles you were used to; it was made from a smooth, thick purple glass which made it impossible to see through the bottle and was decorated with light lavender designs. It was shaped rather strangely, much like the genie bottle from that old show I Dream of Genie; a short, wide, rounded base and a long slender neck. As you stared at the bottle, observing it intently, you felt your eyes start to glaze over as a sudden feeling of nostalgia overtook you.
A mysterious bottle, a meeting between two strangers, love at first sight, happiness, sorrow, adventure, betrayal, passion, and a beautiful set of lavender eyes…
By the time you came out of your trance your mother was already at the register paying for the strange bottle. You guessed she took your strange hypnotic state as a good sign and decided that it was due to your odd fascination for the bottle but deep down in your gut you had a bad feeling about that thing. The feeling it brought you, though it wasn’t entirely unpleasant, was strange and confusing and almost even frightening. But there was no turning back now. If you rejected the gift you would break your mother’s heart.
So you and your mother left the store with you reluctantly carrying the strange bottle and purposely ignoring the way the old shopkeeper was checking out your ass.
~~Later that night~~
For what seemed like the umpteenth time that night, you stared suspiciously at the old bottle that was now sitting peacefully on your shelf. You didn’t understand why, but you felt as if it were… watching you.
Yes, you knew that you were being excessively paranoid; you knew that it was impossible for an inanimate object to be physically watching you, but this knowledge did little to quell the suspicious feeling of paranoia you got from that evil bottle. Yes, evil. You had concluded that the reason this bottle brought up such a sense of dread in you was because it was fashioned in the deepest darkest pits of hell by demons… and mimes.
No, you weren’t crazy; you were just overly cautious and happened to have a phobia of mimes. And who could blame you? Mimes are scary.
You slowly approached the bottle, your glare hardening with each step you took. You stopped just in front of the shelf, the bottle at your eye-level. “I’m on to you” you stated, pointing an accusatory finger at the antique bottle. “I know what you’re up to and it’s not gonna work with me!”
“…” The bottle didn’t make a sound, but that didn’t stop you from communicating with it.
“Oh, so you think you’re clever, do ya?”
“…”
“How dare you mock me?!”
“…”
“Don’t say that about my mother!” Growing frustrated with the bottles mutiny and complete failure to cooperate, in a spur of the moment fit of rage you grabbed the troublesome bottle and chucked it against the wall. You winced at the loud thump the bottle made as it came in contact with the wall then plopped down on the floor completely unharmed. Your wall, on the other hand, was another story…
Your wall was now adorning a small dent from where it was hit with the evil bottle from hell. You glared at bottle, blaming it for defiling your room despite the fact that you were the one that threw it in the first place. You walked over to it and picked it up none-too-gently, inspecting it quite thoroughly for any signs of damage.
There wasn’t a single scratch on it.
Once again you glared at the bottle. How dare this inanimate object have the audacity to make a fool of you! How dare it have the audacity to leave a dent in your wall yet remain completely unharmed! Well, you certainly weren’t going to let this bottle make a fool out of you! NO SIR!
Out of the corner of your eye you saw a discarded cheeseburger wrapper on your floor right next to the rubbish bin. Smirking evilly, you picked up the wrapper, your smirk widening as you saw the grease all over it. With the wrapper in your right hand, you picked up the old antique bottle with your right hand, sneering at it. You would show it no mercy.
Brandishing the greasy old wrapper like a dangerous weapon, you then used it to rub the bottle, wiping off all the grease onto the antiquity in the process. HA! That oughta’ teach that bottle for… being a bottle…
Then something odd happened (other than you rubbing a bottle with a greasy wrapper). The bottle started to shake. At first it was gentle and hardly noticeable, but now is was breaking out into violent spasms. You dropped the bottle in shock, watching helplessly as the bottle shook against your floor.
“I knew there was something fishy about that thing…” you muttered to yourself as you backed away from the possessed object.
As it continued to shake and spasm on your floor, you quickly reached for the best object that you could use as a weapon that was in your room (a table lamp) and held it threateningly. Despite your silent threat, the bottle continued to shake, the violent spasms growing more intense by the second. It was so intense that you felt the bottle would surely explode. And then…
It stopped.
The bottle stopped in its tracks and fell over like a dead dog.
You eyed the bottle curiously. Carefully, you tip-toed over to the fallen bottle to inspect it. You prodded it with your foot. It didn’t move. Your eyebrows creased together in thought as you squatted so that you were nearly at eye-level with the bottle, observing it closely to try and discover what could’ve caused such occult behavior.
Once again the bottle suddenly shook to life; so suddenly, in fact, that it smacked you in the head! As you sat on the floor in pain, dazed, a strange purple smoke started to creep out of the bottle, slowly filling up your room and only adding to your confusion in your already-dazed state. Your mind couldn’t possibly comprehend what was going on so you merely sat in silence, staring intently as the strange smoke enveloped you and your room.
A strange thing happened next; you could’ve sworn that you saw a human figure appear from within the smoke, but decided that it must be your mind playing tricks on you; that bottle must’ve hit you harder than you thought.
You closed you eyes, wincing as you rubbed the spot on your head where you had gotten hit. You’d probably have a bump there in a couple of minutes. You sighed, moving your hand away from your forehead and allowing it to flop back down on the floor. You pushed yourself off the floor, standing up straight and just barely managing to keep yourself from falling back on the ground. You opened your eyes slowly then they nearly popped out in surprise when you registered that a stranger was standing in front of you, blinking in confusion.
It was definitely a man; you could tell because all he wore was a skimpy lilac outfit that reminded you of what someone in a harem would wear. He was tall and lean, a few inches taller than you, and his skin was a beautiful caramel tan. His sandy golden hair rested just past his shoulders and had a healthy shine. His features were sharp and young and he looked no older than sixteen. What caught your attention the most was his beautiful lavender eyes. They seemed so familiar… but where had you seen them before?
Soon, the man smiled and tackled you to the ground in a hug, knocking the breath out of you. “Master, I finally found you!” he squealed happily, nuzzling against your chest. You blushed a deep shade of crimson and he stopped, a look of confusion once again coming across his features. He stared at the lumps on your chest, then experimentally poked one with his index finger. Your blush deepened. “Well, what’s this? This is new…” He stared at you intently. “Come to think of it, Master, you look a little different. Your hair is much longer and you look like you’ve shrunk a couple inches. And what’s with these strange bumps on your chest?”
Meanwhile, you weren’t listening to a word he was saying. All you could think about was the strange man laying on top of you and touching you inappropriately. There was only one thing you could do now.
“HEEEEELLLLP! PEEERVEEEEERT!”
Oh, and did I mention that the genie was a male and that in your past life you were a male as well? (AHHH! YAOI!) xD Well, you were. Now, in your current life, you’re a girl and you just so happen to come across a mysterious bottle…
And don’t let the fact that you were a male in a past life throw you away from the story; you’re a girl now so you won’t necessarily have a yaoi relationship! Though, there will probably be lots of mentions of yaoi and yuri in this story… Please don’t let my weirdness tear you away from this story! TT__TT It’ll get better, I swear!
I also would like to apologize in advance if this chapter starts out too slow, especially the beginning, but it’s sort of an introductory chapter that helps set up the mood and the plot for the rest of the story so hopefully it will be smooth sailing from here on. Just bear with me, peoples!
Warnings: mention of yaoi, perversion, randomness, some adult themes, talk of reincarnation, and misuse of magical powers.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Yu-Gi-Oh, but in a fair and just world… I still wouldn’t own Yu-Gi-Oh. So blah, no suing for you! And this disclaimer applies to all chapters.
Chapter 1: A New Beginning!
You sighed, bored out of your mind, as you browsed lazily through a random shelf in the antique shop your mom dragged you to. She had insisted that you come with her to help her pick out some furniture for the living room. You had protested, telling her that she could buy some new furniture for nearly half the price she would have to pay for used antiques but she wouldn’t hear of it. You also told her that there was no point in dragging you to the antique shop to help her pick out furniture because she never listened to your opinion anyway but she just ignored you and forced you to come along with her anyway.
Your eye twitched as you looked distastefully around the old shop full of useless junk. Dust covered nearly everything and the store smelled oddly of old mothballs and cheese that had been left out in the sun for a few days too long; it was a rather unpleasant smell that you hoped you would never have to experience in your young life ever again. The shop itself was fairly small and was cramped up with plenty of useless old junk that no one in their right mind would buy, leaving you with a slight claustrophobic feeling.
…Not to mention the grumpy old man of a shop keeper kept sending you strange looks ranging from anger to some strange sort of senile seduction. You weren’t sure what the shopkeeper was up to but you knew one thing for sure; you certainly didn’t want to meet up with him in a dark alley any time soon.
You huffed. “What a way to spend my birthday” you muttered to yourself
“Ooooh! _____, come here!” your mother called excitedly as she eyed an extremely old and tacky coffee table. “Isn’t this table just the cutest little thing you’ve ever seen?! It’s the perfect size and shape and I know just where I’d like to put it.” She smiled as she turned her head towards you. “Don’t you just think it’s adorable?”
You narrowed your eyes at the ugly piece of furniture. “If I told you I thought it was hideous and that I loathed it with the white-hot intensity of one thousand burning suns then would that have any effect on your opinion?”
“…No.”
“I think it’s the bees’ knees” you sighed sarcastically while rolling your eyes, though it appeared your mother hadn’t noticed your gesture or your sardonic tone as her smile brightened. “Can you just buy the stupid thing so we can go home now? I know of thousands of better ways to spend my Saturday than to waste it away in this putrid old shop.”
Your mother turned towards you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Aww, honey, you’re just cranky because it’s that time of the month” she reasoned as she ruffled your hair, ignoring the look of pure evil you directed towards her.
You glared daggers at your mother. “I hate you” you hissed as you pulled away from her, doing your best to use your fingers to smooth out your hair. “And FYI, it’s not that time of the month. I’m cranky because everything in this shop smells worse than a used diaper and you’re forcing me to waste my life away here. This is one hour of my precious childhood that I’ll never be able to get back.”
Your mother’s smile widened even more, if that was humanly possible, and she laughed lightly as she pinched your cheeks. “You’re so cute when you’re trying to act all cynical!” She chuckled at your ever-hardening glare. “I know why you’re acting so irritable; you thought I forgot your birthday, didn’t you?! Shame on you! I’d never forget your birthday! I was in labor for over thirty-six hours because of your big ol’ watermelon head!”
“…Mom, what did I tell you about discussing the birthing process when we’re in public?”
She ignored you. “One of the reasons I brought you here was so you could pick out a nice birthday present!” Your mother smiled proudly at herbrilliant idea.
For the second time today your eye twitched. You stared at the woman you called your mother, an expression of sheer horror evident over your features. You then turned around, ignoring the suggestive wiggle of the elderly shop keep’s eyebrows, and stared at all the rusted, old, tacky pieces of junk that covered every inch of the small shop. Your head got dizzy as you looked at all the antiquities and it gave you a small migraine. You growled at the items for their mockery.
Once your migraine started to settle down, you turned back towards your mother, hoping that her earlier statement was just some sort of sick, sadistic joke, but the look on her face told you that she was beyond serious.
“Why don’t you look around more closely and pick something nice out?” your mother suggested helpfully, grabbing hold of your shoulders and guiding you to the back of the store. “Just be sure to not pick out anything too expensive; I’m not made out of money, ya know!”
“Mom… This is very…” You searched for the right word. “…Thoughtful of you, but it really isn’t necessary. If you wanna do something special then we can both go out to dinner or something…”
“Oh nonsense!” your mother interjected. “We can go out to dinner any old time. I want to get you something special for your birthday; something unique and one-of-a-kind!” As you saw your mother’s eyes shine dreamily with determination, you knew then and there that you weren’t going to leave that shop without some sort of strange antiquity in your arms. As odd as the idea was, your mother seemed to have put a lot of thought into it and you didn’t have the heart to tell her how much you hated antiques.
So, with a sigh of resignation, you directed your attention towards a shelf in front of you. The shelf held several glass dolls on it, each with perfect curls, icy blue eyes, and its own intricately-designed dress with frills and ribbons and more details than your best dress clothes. Their cold, unblinking stare unnerved you so you focused on something a lot less creepy; you found such an item on the shelf below the dolls.
This object appeared to be a bottle but it was much fancier than the glass coke bottles you were used to; it was made from a smooth, thick purple glass which made it impossible to see through the bottle and was decorated with light lavender designs. It was shaped rather strangely, much like the genie bottle from that old show I Dream of Genie; a short, wide, rounded base and a long slender neck. As you stared at the bottle, observing it intently, you felt your eyes start to glaze over as a sudden feeling of nostalgia overtook you.
A mysterious bottle, a meeting between two strangers, love at first sight, happiness, sorrow, adventure, betrayal, passion, and a beautiful set of lavender eyes…
By the time you came out of your trance your mother was already at the register paying for the strange bottle. You guessed she took your strange hypnotic state as a good sign and decided that it was due to your odd fascination for the bottle but deep down in your gut you had a bad feeling about that thing. The feeling it brought you, though it wasn’t entirely unpleasant, was strange and confusing and almost even frightening. But there was no turning back now. If you rejected the gift you would break your mother’s heart.
So you and your mother left the store with you reluctantly carrying the strange bottle and purposely ignoring the way the old shopkeeper was checking out your ass.
~~Later that night~~
For what seemed like the umpteenth time that night, you stared suspiciously at the old bottle that was now sitting peacefully on your shelf. You didn’t understand why, but you felt as if it were… watching you.
Yes, you knew that you were being excessively paranoid; you knew that it was impossible for an inanimate object to be physically watching you, but this knowledge did little to quell the suspicious feeling of paranoia you got from that evil bottle. Yes, evil. You had concluded that the reason this bottle brought up such a sense of dread in you was because it was fashioned in the deepest darkest pits of hell by demons… and mimes.
No, you weren’t crazy; you were just overly cautious and happened to have a phobia of mimes. And who could blame you? Mimes are scary.
You slowly approached the bottle, your glare hardening with each step you took. You stopped just in front of the shelf, the bottle at your eye-level. “I’m on to you” you stated, pointing an accusatory finger at the antique bottle. “I know what you’re up to and it’s not gonna work with me!”
“…” The bottle didn’t make a sound, but that didn’t stop you from communicating with it.
“Oh, so you think you’re clever, do ya?”
“…”
“How dare you mock me?!”
“…”
“Don’t say that about my mother!” Growing frustrated with the bottles mutiny and complete failure to cooperate, in a spur of the moment fit of rage you grabbed the troublesome bottle and chucked it against the wall. You winced at the loud thump the bottle made as it came in contact with the wall then plopped down on the floor completely unharmed. Your wall, on the other hand, was another story…
Your wall was now adorning a small dent from where it was hit with the evil bottle from hell. You glared at bottle, blaming it for defiling your room despite the fact that you were the one that threw it in the first place. You walked over to it and picked it up none-too-gently, inspecting it quite thoroughly for any signs of damage.
There wasn’t a single scratch on it.
Once again you glared at the bottle. How dare this inanimate object have the audacity to make a fool of you! How dare it have the audacity to leave a dent in your wall yet remain completely unharmed! Well, you certainly weren’t going to let this bottle make a fool out of you! NO SIR!
Out of the corner of your eye you saw a discarded cheeseburger wrapper on your floor right next to the rubbish bin. Smirking evilly, you picked up the wrapper, your smirk widening as you saw the grease all over it. With the wrapper in your right hand, you picked up the old antique bottle with your right hand, sneering at it. You would show it no mercy.
Brandishing the greasy old wrapper like a dangerous weapon, you then used it to rub the bottle, wiping off all the grease onto the antiquity in the process. HA! That oughta’ teach that bottle for… being a bottle…
Then something odd happened (other than you rubbing a bottle with a greasy wrapper). The bottle started to shake. At first it was gentle and hardly noticeable, but now is was breaking out into violent spasms. You dropped the bottle in shock, watching helplessly as the bottle shook against your floor.
“I knew there was something fishy about that thing…” you muttered to yourself as you backed away from the possessed object.
As it continued to shake and spasm on your floor, you quickly reached for the best object that you could use as a weapon that was in your room (a table lamp) and held it threateningly. Despite your silent threat, the bottle continued to shake, the violent spasms growing more intense by the second. It was so intense that you felt the bottle would surely explode. And then…
It stopped.
The bottle stopped in its tracks and fell over like a dead dog.
You eyed the bottle curiously. Carefully, you tip-toed over to the fallen bottle to inspect it. You prodded it with your foot. It didn’t move. Your eyebrows creased together in thought as you squatted so that you were nearly at eye-level with the bottle, observing it closely to try and discover what could’ve caused such occult behavior.
Once again the bottle suddenly shook to life; so suddenly, in fact, that it smacked you in the head! As you sat on the floor in pain, dazed, a strange purple smoke started to creep out of the bottle, slowly filling up your room and only adding to your confusion in your already-dazed state. Your mind couldn’t possibly comprehend what was going on so you merely sat in silence, staring intently as the strange smoke enveloped you and your room.
A strange thing happened next; you could’ve sworn that you saw a human figure appear from within the smoke, but decided that it must be your mind playing tricks on you; that bottle must’ve hit you harder than you thought.
You closed you eyes, wincing as you rubbed the spot on your head where you had gotten hit. You’d probably have a bump there in a couple of minutes. You sighed, moving your hand away from your forehead and allowing it to flop back down on the floor. You pushed yourself off the floor, standing up straight and just barely managing to keep yourself from falling back on the ground. You opened your eyes slowly then they nearly popped out in surprise when you registered that a stranger was standing in front of you, blinking in confusion.
It was definitely a man; you could tell because all he wore was a skimpy lilac outfit that reminded you of what someone in a harem would wear. He was tall and lean, a few inches taller than you, and his skin was a beautiful caramel tan. His sandy golden hair rested just past his shoulders and had a healthy shine. His features were sharp and young and he looked no older than sixteen. What caught your attention the most was his beautiful lavender eyes. They seemed so familiar… but where had you seen them before?
Soon, the man smiled and tackled you to the ground in a hug, knocking the breath out of you. “Master, I finally found you!” he squealed happily, nuzzling against your chest. You blushed a deep shade of crimson and he stopped, a look of confusion once again coming across his features. He stared at the lumps on your chest, then experimentally poked one with his index finger. Your blush deepened. “Well, what’s this? This is new…” He stared at you intently. “Come to think of it, Master, you look a little different. Your hair is much longer and you look like you’ve shrunk a couple inches. And what’s with these strange bumps on your chest?”
Meanwhile, you weren’t listening to a word he was saying. All you could think about was the strange man laying on top of you and touching you inappropriately. There was only one thing you could do now.
“HEEEEELLLLP! PEEERVEEEEERT!”
Ever notice how the word "therapist" is just "the" and "rapist" put together? Think about it. 