thinkin bout mushrugi and just…the idea of the puzzle growing mushrooms/acting like a mushroom. spores seeping out of its cracks like they’re gills. yugi kissing it and holding it close and breathing it in and it releasing those spores into his nose and mouth.
he grows addicted to it even as golden mycelium grows in his core and fruits from his skin. he’s terrified. he’s thrilled. he loves it. the puzzle has chosen to flood his system with sacred little gifts as a show of its love, and how could he ever complain? it’s his treasure—his treasures. he’ll give them everything. even if they sting as they grow and get caught on his clothes. even if he’s changing in ways he doesn’t understand, overtaken by gift upon gift upon gift until he can barely see skin and they’re all he can feel. even if everyone around him looks on in horror.
(breathe in. relish in how it tickles your throat and lungs, and they strain because it’s already grown to claim them. breathe in. this is your reward. breathe in. breathe in.)