In the beginning there was Borath, content and alone, save for the muses. Then the plot-bunny came, immense and blue with large teeth and an aggressive disposition. The plot-bunny bit Borath, contaminating her with its plot before it disappeared again, to mock her. As a squirrel would, about a dog, peeing on a nettle. Yes, the plot-bunny was to mock.
And so Borath began to be plagued by the plot in her system, leaving her witless and stupid as it persisted ferociously until there was nothing to be done but write it. So Borath sat alone at the computer with loud music and a copious caffeine supply. But the idea needed to be solidified before it could be written, and this had to be done in Fic-Space, otherwise known as Development Hell, the place where all writing-blocks appear.
In the fiction's beginning there is a white room. Not big, not small, and not colourful. Not a nice white room either; the walls are dirty and the atmosphere dull. No further inspiration has wandered this way yet, and the characters chosen by the plot-bunny are the first things to appear.
Yami and Bakura are stood, alone, in the completely white room. They are mindless and simply standing, drooling the tiniest bit with glazed eyes. Borath muses and they blink. Life has dawned. Borath muses further.
According to the plot-bunny, in this fiction they are designated not to hate each other. However they are still to banter 'in a cute way. Romance will develop eventually if reviews demand it, but this is otherwise to be a buddy-fic'. And after culminating these requirements, developed personalities are born and fired into the hollow skulls. Another blink and the drooling ceases.
Bakura: (Looks around and then spots Yami) Oh Christ. Borath's doing our pairing again.
Yami: (Scowling at Bakura as if this is his fault) Oh joy. (Looks around) Crappy setting.
Borath frowns at the characters' impudence but sees their point. Running through the list of 'appropriate starting points', one is selected randomly. Borath smiles.
The room blurs in the fantastic 'suddenly gone to warp 8' way with multiple smeary colours, quite amazing as the room was previously white. The room is now the living room at Bakura and Ryou's home.
The yamis now feel queasy. Their discomfort is ignored, as it is time for the protagonist of the piece is selected. A cancer-inducing spotlight suddenly bolts down from the heavens into the corner of the room in preparation, humming ominously as the yamis stare at it with great apprehension. Borath begins to muse again as the yamis panic and begin to plead their cases with the spotlight.
Bakura: I am not having readers in my head again. Not a chance. And I'm not having that stupid British accent again either! Do you hear me?! Enough is enough! Pick on him! (Points at Yami)
Yami: Hang on a minute; I was pregnant most of the time that damn light was on me, not to mention needy the last time I was dumped with you in a fic. You can leave me the hell alone. Go pick on Joey!
Borath considers these points fleetingly as the spotlight continues to burn through the floor. Finally, the decision is made and the spotlight instantly moves to engulf Bakura. This causes him to shield his blinded eyes, scream in pain and huddle in a ball on the floor.
Bakura: No! My eyes! My *eyes*! You're melting my *face*!
Yami sniggers at him. Borath begins to reconsider her decision, the spotlight humming loudly as a result. Yami falls silent with wide eyes. Borath makes her decision concrete. Bakura is the poor sod whom the readers shall follow in this fic.
The plot is the next item that needs to be establish, however at this stage this is only in the barest details. The plot-bunny has left a single image that this fic must be formulated around. Borath shifts her attention to this aspect of the fic, and in response one of the walls dissolves away and a large picture comes into view.
Yami stares at it whilst Bakura shields his eyes from the blinding column of light he is trapped inside of. Borath takes a moment from her contemplation to look down upon the characters. She has pity and the light disappears, however smoking hairs mark who has been chosen to be the main character.
The picture shows a building site, Yami Malik at one side of the conveniently cleared area with Bakura and Yami at the other. It is obvious that there is some kind of battle either about to happen or is currently being fought, however the air is lacking in projectiles. All is open to interpretation. The plot-bunny was not detailed or merciful this time.
Borath acknowledges that Yami Malik must be involved and the new character appears in the corner of the room. He is not to be used yet so his skull remains empty, devoid of programming and personality for the moment. Borath decides to build the fic around the scene being shown directly, and to do this the scene must be entirely understood.
Borath muses. Is this battle a climax to a great, dramatic adventure? Or is it merely another link in a long chain of ridiculous events that will culminate pointlessly at some stage? In effect, will this fic be serious or humorous?
Borath consults her muses. 'It', the black shadow behind angst and despair, is nowhere to be seen. Bob, the orange-haired creature behind randomness and poetry, smiles and agrees to take on the piece. Borath is happy. The fic is to be amusing and pointless.
At present the scene does not fall into their category. This means that additional props will need to be added. The plot-bunny grudgingly permits this. Caffeine assists this. Borath sifts through memories of experiences and conversations for inspiration here. E-mails from Ayod Botla, beta-reader and friend, are finally decided to be the source of these props.
Borath muses about the Manga scans she has seen, many images depicting Yami Malik licking something. It could be viewed that this character values his tongue as a practical asset. And so with the power of thought, Yami Malik's tongue lengthens a mere inch, yet there is potential for it to become larger. The new length grants Yami Malik the capability to deflect projectiles with a tongue lash, and to perhaps attack his enemies with it also.
From his slender hand the Millennium Rod vanishes, reappearing in his pocket, and in its place appears a tin can. If the can is studied closely, it can be seen that Yami Malik is to open and then throw a can of 'Whoop Arse' at Bakura and Yami. More thought and a neat stack of identical cans appear behind him, creating an arsenal.
Borath's train of thought wavers and there is a brief disruption in the fic's creation as the short burst of Britney Spears is wiped from the airwaves. Then peace has been restored. The development of the fic can continue.
Borath muses over whether or not Yami should be pregnant again. Yami looks scared but dares not speak. Resigning to the fact that 27 chapters was perhaps enough for that plot-bunny, this thought is discarded. Borath muses over how Bakura would handle such a situation.
Bakura: (Looking very serious) You even think about that and I promise you there'll be a Character Death.
The idea leaves entirely. Borath continues to muse. A series of random events created spontaneously over the course of several months is deemed to be the best approach for this fiction. Bakura and Yami agree, secretly hoping that future chapters will become entrenched in Development Hell and never be written fully.
The rating need next be chosen. Borath wishes to greedily squirrel away reviews without the looming threat of The Powers That Be whom listen to the squealers on ff.net banishing the fic. As this is to be a humour fic, a low rating will be adequate, but the rating must also cover any offence that may caused by energetic use of swearing and gratuitous violence. Borath muses and PG-13 is selected.
Seeing no need for Yami Malik in the immediate chapter, Borath sends him to fic-space to wait in a coma-like state until he is summoned. A beginning for the piece is now required for the flowing-writing-like-state to commence. Old and overused ideas are skimmed through, as this fic is birthed with a great grudge against the plot-bunny whom spawned it and Borath wishes to make no more effort than necessary.
Borath smiles suddenly and the almost-forgotten yamis cringe in dread. The image against the wall disappears and the yamis' forms flicker for a moment before vanishing entirely, reappearing in a reclined position on the sofa facing the television. The television flickers to life and the fic is ready to begin.
Removing the automatic screen-saver, Borath clicks open Word, pulls the keyboard towards her, and begins to type:
Yami and Bakura were watching the Smurfs…
*****
Why I wrote this I have no clue. I think it's pretty much to contribute to the effort of getting as many fictions up as possible so that the Yugioh archive gets the character option. So, hope you enjoyed it and please leave some sort of comment.
