OBVIOUSLY I OWN NOTHING. If I owned Yu-gi-oh, thiefshipping would be 100% canon and I definitely don't own Tangled.
Note: It's going to be weird, because first, Marik is pale through most of the story. Second, his scars are magic instead of magic hair…need I say more? Personalities are based on LittleKuriboh's abridged series.
Bakura: I don't care how it's supposed to go, I'm not going to be as weak or stupid as the character I'm supposed to be playing.
Me: Don't worry, I'll adjust the role for you. There's only so much OOC I can take anyway.
"Ah ha!" The closet doors flew open as the boy eagerly poked his head inside. He looked back and forth, his blond hair flopping side to side as he did so. He knew his friend was in there somewhere, in the dark corners hiding away. He couldn't make out much in the dark, dusty closet of his, but he had an idea of how to lure his small friend out. "Oh well," He said, shrugging falsely and turning away from the open armoire, "I guess Mr. Tweetums just isn't here."
After saying this he heard a gleeful but quiet chirping that he recognized as the bird's laughter. In one swift move, the boy turned around and grabbed the feathery creature from where he heard the sound. "GOTCHA!" He cheered. He set the sparrow down on the nearby table, where the bird folded his wings as though he were crossing arms in front of his chest. The blonde boy smiled brightly, taking out a somewhat sharpened rock and marking a tally on the wooden surface of the table, where many more tallies were previously marked.
"See Mr. Tweetums, you cannot beat Marik Ishtar at hide-and-seek! I have twenty-two points now!" Marik looked eagerly at the little bird. "Want to try again?"
Mr. Tweetums shook his little head in disagreement. Marik pouted at this.
"Well, what do you want to do then!?" He asked his feathered friend. The little bird took off, flying out of the room with the teenage boy following until they reached the room with a gaping hole in the ceiling. Mr. Tweetums rested on a pillar right below the hole and pointed his beak upwards. Marik hesitantly stepped into the streaming sunlight, where the light seemed to reflect off his pale skin (I told you). He looked up, almost longingly at the open sky above the tomb, before shaking his head and eyeing the bird.
"No, Mr. Tweetums. You know we can't." He chastised the bird, who flew down to rest on Marik's shoulder. "Besides," The boy continued, "It's not so bad in here."
Marik ran down the hallways of the tomb as music started playing in his head.
(Warning: I am doing the songs. The songs will be in script format, please don't hate! The first song begins now!)
Marik: Seven a.m., the usual morning lineup.
[Mr. Tweetums rolled his eyes as Marik's singing started. Marik grabbed a broom and started to sweep the sand from the tomb floor.]
Marik: Start up the chores and sweep till the floor's all clean.
[Marik retrieved mops and other cleaning supplies as well at this point.]
Marik: Polish and wax, do laundry, and mop and shine up
Sweep again, and by then it's, like, seven-fifteen!
[Done with his chores now, he went to his room and started grabbing ancient scrolls from his "book shelf".]
Marik: And so I'll read my scriptures (grabs some hidden manga from under his bed) or maybe a yaoi.
[After chosing to read the yaoi instead, he quickly finished and got out his painting supplies.]
Marik: I'll add a few new paintings to my gallery.
I'll play guitar and knit and cook and basically
Just wonder when will my life begin?
[Marik then saw a open place in the room with the hole in the ceiling. He couldn't stop thinking of the lights that come every year, and decided then to paint the lights there.]
Marik: Then after lunch it's puzzles and darts and baking
Papier-mache, a bit of card games and chess
Pottery and ventriloquy, candle-making
Then I'll stretch, maybe sketch, take a nap, sew a dress!
["Not for me though, that would be gay." Marik added as an afterthought.]
Marik: And I'll read more yaoi, if I have time to spare
I'll paint the walls some more, I'm sure there's room somewhere
And then I'll brush and brush and brush and brush my hair
Stuck in the same place I've always been
And I'll keep wondering and wondering and wondering and wondering
When will my life begin?
[Marik found himself in the room with a hole in the ceiling again, and once again stared longingly outside.]
Marik: Tomorrow night, the lights will appear
Just like they do on my birthday each year
What is it like out there where they glow?
Now that I'm older, Father might just let me go...
A young, white-haired man dashed as fast as he could down the palace rooftop, followed by two other men. They skipped across pillars and from one kind of roofing to the next. On the ground, palace guards paced the grounds, completely unaware of the threat above. The pale, white-haired man signaled the others that the room was below them, and watched as the guards passed. He looked out from the rooftop, across the land. To most people the desert sands would look like nothing but wasteland that happened to be close to a large river, but to him it looked like a paradise. The small, nostalgic part of his mind said "This is your home."
"Wow." Was all he could say, looking at the whole area from a new point of view. His past-self dreamed of his view. "I could get used to a view like this." He chuckled.
"Bakura! come on!" One of the other men called out in hushed tones.
Bakura kept staring for a moment, simply motioning to the other two to wait. "Yes. One day I'll have a palace like this."
The other man frowned, "We do this job, you can buy your own palace." He reached out to grab the pale boy's shoulder only to have his hand slapped away.
"Let's do it then." Bakura said, walking to the hole the other men where holding open. He quickly tied the rope around his own waist and handed the other end to the two men. They proceeded to lower him into the artifact chamber. He already owned one artifact, something he didn't tell the two he was working with, nor did he tell that they weren't stealing this golden treasure to sell. How gullible the common thieves were, Bakura thought to himself with a smile. They never even asked how he knew this was the chamber where they would find the item. He knew the guards would put the gayest of them to guard this Millennium Item (due to the object looking somewhat phallic) and the gay-dar that his item possessed pointed to this room.
As he was lowered, his suspicions were confirmed, as he saw the Millennium Rod resting on a pillow upon a pedestal. There were about five guards facing away from him, and he came to level with the prize of a golden item. One of the guards sneezed, and Bakura smirked. "Bless you." He said aloud.
"Oh, thanks." the guard said, half turned and giving him a little gay wrist-wave. The Guard turned away again before doing a double-take, realizing there had been an intruder. By then Bakura and the rod were gone without a trace. "Wait! Hey! Stop! Thief!" The other guards panicked and quickly went to sound the alarms.
The three thieves were already running off across the bridge.
"Just picture me in a palace of my own." Bakura said calmly while running, "Can you see it? I certainly can."
The bigger of the two men scowled at their "leader", wanting to throttle him for giving them away back there.
Bakura could feel the daggers being stared at him, but he didn't care. "All the things we've seen and it's just 8 in the morning. This is a very big day."