"You're as unchanging as stone," Anzu says to Pharaoh with a devious smile.

"And you're as unpredictable as fire," he replied stoically.

Anzu laughs, "does that make us incompatible?"

"No." He pulls her close. "It doesn't."

The hair on the back of her neck stands on end as the Pharaoh pulls Anzu even closer for a passionate kiss.


"No! No!" Téa yells in disgust. "The only slash fics allowed in this group are fics of me and Pharaoh!"

"Well I never said the main character wasn't you," I say, my golden eyes showing a puppy-like innocence.

"I don't know who this 'Anzu' character is," Téa huffs, "but she's not me."

I glance at the clock and sigh, "you apparently liked the story enough to allow me to read it for this long." I put my journal in my bag and add, "I promise to have something different next time. Maybe Pegasus and Kaiba." I hear Téa reply with a quick, "ew," and before Mokuba could issue a rebuttal, I laugh. "Kidding!" I open the door and finish, saying, "I'll have a thiefshipping fic next time." With that, I leave.


I still sometimes wonder why I joined Téa's writing group. All she ever shares are cheesy love stories of her and Pharaoh.

Mokuba is part of the group too. He participates via vidchat. I must say though, his latest horror story may have me sleeping with the lights on and all my trap cards locked in a safe. "Note to self," I murmur, "buy a safe."

I giggle as I remember what Tristan shared. He never writes stories, but instead shares random lists. Tonight he shared a list of crayon colors that makes no sense. Wild Blue Yonder does sound odd, but try as we might, we couldn't convince him that Lavender was a real color and not just the name of a creepy town in the Pokémon games.


I fumble for my keys as I check the mailbox in front of my house. I drop them as the streetlamp across the street flickers off.

"Damn!" I nervously feel around on the grass, my mind going back to part of Mokuba's story involving the Ancient Lamp trap card.

The light flicks back on and I let out a slow sigh of relief. You'd think after everything I've been through; I wouldn't be freaking out like this.

I find my keys and glare at the lamp. My heart skips a beat as I notice someone standing under the lamp staring right at me. My eyes adjust to the lighting and I realize who it is: Bakura.

"You scared the crap out of me, Bakura!" I shriek. "What the hell are you even doing out here?"

"I was out for a walk," he replies as he crosses the street, "and I saw you approaching, so I thought I'd say 'hi.'"

"What I meant was," I say, "why are you in this neighborhood? You don't live anywhere near here."

"How do you know where I live?" he replies shyly.

"Good question," I answer, unlocking my front door. "Perhaps you should go home and Google it." I step inside and end the conversation saying, "I'd invite you inside, but I'm tired. Sorry for being rude, but, again, I'm tired. Good night, Bakura. I'll see you at school." With that, I close the door.


I place my keys on the hall table and hang up my coat, anxiety coursing through my blood. Bakura's being here can't simply be coincidence.

My anxiety turns into fear as I worry about whether he's been inside my home or not. I rush upstairs to find my room is still in pristine shape; not a single wrinkle in the comforter, nothing out of place on the vanity, every stuffed animal still lines my bed's headboard the same way I left them, everything is still in the drawers and closet, the bed is untouched.

To ensure everything is still here, I shove my hands under the mattress and fish around. My hand touches what feels like metal and I pull out what it is. With a great sigh of relief, I clutch it tightly to my chest. My Millennium Key is still here.