me and my sister went to the mall today and we ran into hot topic so fucking fast it was unbelievable. me and my sister are literal opposites when it comes to fashion. she picked pink, pastel shit like she was trying to be all uwu kawaii meanwhile im just standing here with my arms full of emo and goth shit, i legit felt like daigo and masato with all this emo drip i had walked out with. (p.s. they should put yakuza stuff in hot topic if they havent already because i have yet to have any yakuza related things in my room </3 also hot topic is like the only store i will shop at)

im so sorry to say these words to you but reading this reminded me of my immortal

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden (1 - 10)

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden is a collection of oneshots and drabbles within the TwRE-verse; Ancient Egypt AU. Each can be read separately, but they’ll make more sense with context~ Part I happens between For Love of Pharaoh and King and What Followed the High Priest Home.

Main Story Begins Here! Also available on AO3~ Previous Chapter - Next Chapter 

Part I; Chapter 10 In which Ryou plays dress-up, at Yugi's insistence; also in which Atem and Bakura are the luckiest men in Egypt  2300 words; rated M; warnings for sexual content 

note: This one takes place the day before the Thief King and Ryou are wed floating timeline shenanigans, yay!  Also please know that this one almost got away from me. Ryou!muse is super comfortable with the fade-to-blacks, but Yugi!muse absolutely doesn't know when to stop. x'D

"Lord Yugi, this is embarrassing!" Ryou Bakura stood in front of Yugi's wardrobe, all but naked save for chains and a skirt that was even shorter on him than it was on Yugi. It was the outfit Yugi had worn on the day of the Shadow Realm duel—selected solely for its shock value, at the banquet that said duel had interrupted—and Ryou had donned it at the insistent request of the Pharaoh's betrothed. "This is too much...! I'm so sorry I suggested this...!" 

"Not exactly your style, sure," Yugi admitted, pacing around his friend, "but I still think Bakura would like it." 

"Yugi, please...!" Ryou held up his hands with a rattle of chains, pale skin reddening. "Help me take this off!" 

"Okay, okay," Yugi relented, coming around to undo the shackle around Ryou's neck. Ryou struggled to unhook the ones around his wrists, relieved when Yugi lent a hand with those, as well. The pharaoh's betrothed was careful to keep the outfit from falling to the ground, saying, "If these get tangled, it'll take days to sort them back out." 

"S-Sorry!" 

"No worries." Yugi hung the chains back up, glancing at where Bakura still stood, clinging to the small black skirt. He looked appraisingly up and down his friend's form—soft-edged, supple, his exotically white skin flushed pink with embarrassment. Yugi rustled around in his closet. "Let's try this..." 

Ryou accepted the golden silks that Yugi held out; slipped them over his head, and handed Yugi the black skirt to hang up. The dress was adorned with golden patterns of feathers and birds, and when Ryou twisted he revealed a deep slit down the back, elaborately stitched black wings on either side of the opening. 

"That's cute!" Yugi exclaimed, circling his friend. Ryou shook his head. 

"Th-This is more your type of thing, Lord Yugi..." 

"I'm not 'Lord.' And maybe you're right... lighter, cool colors might suit you better? But I like the cut..." He trailed two exploratory fingers down Ryou's exposed spine, and the other boy bristled. 

"Yugi, please!" 

"You have a cute body!" Yugi said. "Doesn't Bakura tell you that, often enough?" 

"Bakura is an extremely good liar," Ryou retorted. 

"He is, but he's not lying when he says that..." Yugi pulled the shoulders of the dress down, and Ryou squeaked as his shoulders were exposed. Yugi peered past him into the full-length mirror, seeing them both reflected in the polished metal. "You're very cute." 

"Yugi, please..." 

"Let's try one of these..." Yugi said, leaving Ryou to finish undressing and diving back into his closet. He lifted one leg for balance as he leaned precariously into the shelves. When he emerged, he held out a silver outfit with black trim. "Try this." 

Ryou, with an uncertain grimace, swapped the outfits out. He held the new one up before putting it on, though he realized too late to object that it left his midsection completely exposed. 

"I'm not sure about this..." 

"I think we're getting closer, color-wise," Yugi murmured, again coming up behind Ryou in the mirror. He played with Ryou's long white hair, noting with satisfaction how soft and lush it had become. "We should tie your hair up... with something silver, definitely... maybe some lapis lazuli..." 

Ryou fidgeted. "But... this is too revealing..." he whispered, hands still over his middle as if to hide the pale expanse of skin. 

Yugi let Ryou's hair drop; patiently placed his hands over Ryou's and pulled them back. "You have a very nice figure," he said, and meant it. Ryou's stomach was more or less flat, but without any clear definition of muscles, and the sides of his hips had a noticeable curve to them. Yugi though they must be pleasant for a lover to grip and grope. "No need to hide it completely." 

"I don't understand how you can go out wearing something embarrassing like this..." Ryou mumbled, looking a bit dizzy. 

"It's way more uncomfortable for other people than it is for me. And it's fun to watch some of these higher-ups squirm," Yugi said cheerfully. "Besides, I'm supposed to be something for Pharaoh to show off—I know that, and I'm more than okay with it." 

"I'm no pharaoh's husband, Yugi..." 

"You're going to be a King’s husband, though." 

Ryou considered that, then retorted, "King of Thieves." 

"Right. And what good is a thief without his stolen wears to show off?" Yugi asked. "Bakura says he's lost all his gems except for you, right? So you've got to shine brighter than everything he's lost. Having you, that's enough for him. Don't be afraid to show everyone else that you alone, the sum of his treasure, make him worthy of the title of King." 

Again Ryou considered that, then sighed. "... Alright, let's try another, then." 

Yugi beamed. "Perfect! And if we can't find a suitable wedding dress for you here, we'll raid the dancers' costumes, right?" 

Ryou only laughed; Yugi scampered back to the wardrobe and all but disappeared inside. He gave a triumphant yelp a moment later, coming out with a bundle of blue and silver just as Ryou stepped out of the other dress. 

"I think this one'll be it!" 

"Let's give it a try..."

... ... ... 

"We found the perfect outfit, for tomorrow."

Thief King Bakura gave a sleepy rumble as Ryou climbed up onto his chest. When he lifted a hand to stroke Ryou's back, however, his eyes snapped open. 

"Yugi let me borrow another one, though, for tonight." 

"Oh did he, now?" Bakura growled, hands taking in the feel of silk like a blind man reading symbols carved into stone. The fabric was intentionally in tatters, leaving strips of warm, supple skin exposed. "That crafty bastard. Is he really trying to kill me?" 

"You should have seen some of the things he had me put on. Remember those ridiculous chains he was wearing, that day in the Shadow Realm?" 

"Gods, Ryou, seeing that would've stopped my heart for sure." 

"Are you going to take a proper look at what I'm wearing now?" 

Bakura sat up with a grunt, letting Ryou slide off him. In the darkness, he could make out the contrast of strips of dark fabric against pale skin; saw Ryou's light hair and shining eyes. When Ryou leaned over the edge of the bed to fetch the lamp, Bakura could tell that his back was almost completely bare. 

A small fire flared to life, bathing Ryou's face in warm light. Bakura's breath caught as his eyes traced the dark blue strings draped over Ryou's body, a tangle of ephemeral, almost see-through silk. His hair was tied partially back, revealing slim neck and smooth shoulders. He wore no jewelry, but subtle swipes of glittery makeup decorated his eyes and lips. A swath of silk above his hips marked the beginning of a long skirt, but the fabric was split on both sides—torn, intentionally—all the way past the hip to the sash at his waist, rendering it virtually useless as a piece of clothing. Bakura placed large hands tenderly on those exposed hips while his eyes ravished the rest of the Ryou's form. Ryou's cheeks were as bright as his eyes, the former flushed red with embarrassment and the later glimmering with something like thirst. 

"Truly a treasure of unparalleled beauty and value," the Thief King breathed, brushing aside blue fabric as he began to stoke Ryou's thighs slowly. Before he could continue, though, the smaller male leaned in and kissed him. Bakura growled in surprise, his grip tightening. 

"Your tongue is known for brilliant lies, my King..." Ryou breathed. "Tell me what you really feel. With your body." 

The Thief King grinned. "Oh you little monster..." His hands slid back and he leaned forward, and together they crashed onto the plush bed. "I'll show you..." he whispered, his nose brushing Ryou's neck as he kissed Ryou's collar bone. Ryou lifted his head obligingly, wrapping his arms around Bakura's shoulders and arching his back. "I love you. I'll show you that, my treasure, my love... I love you."

... ... ... 

"How'd it go with Ryou, today?" Atem asked, mentally, as he made it way up toward their room. He was weary from the day's work, but in a good mood; looking forward to reuniting with Yugi.

"It went well! We found a nice dress. He'll look lovely, tomorrow."

"Not as good as you'll look, when we wed. No one could ever look as beautiful as you will, on that day. As you look every day."

"Pharaoh... don't say over-the-top things..."

"It's not over-the-top if it's true, Partner."

Atem had arrived at the door, then, and slipped inside without hesitation; sighed in relief, and pulled off his heavy gold collar. When he looked toward the bed, though, he froze; dropped the collar with a splitting clatter. 

“I lent Ryou another outfit, for tonight," Yugi said. "But I figured the Thief King shouldn't be any happier than the Pharaoh himself." 

Yugi stepped gingerly down from the bed, naked save for gossamer silks strung between a collar about his neck and cuffs on his wrists. He wore a golden belt, too, of thin, interwoven chains slung low across his hips. His hair, combed up in its usual spiky style, was devoid of any ornaments, and he wore no visible makeup. His body, tiny and lithe, moved with a measured grace—learned, in his time at the palace; royal and dignified. Though slim, surreally small by nature, he glowed with health and sultry confidence—the regal self-assurance of a pharaoh's betrothed. In the firelight of the room's various lamps, his skin shone like dark, brushed gold. Atem knew each mark on his skin, each scar and birthmark, by memory; knew each and loved each. The Pharaoh's heart lifted and skipped a frantic beat as Yugi approached him.

"I borrowed this one from the dancers." Yugi reached him; began to pace in slow circles around him. "Ryou showed me a few dancers' tricks, in return for the wardrobe help." 

"D-Dancers' tricks...?" 

"You know that Ryou trained with the dancers for a while, hmm?" 

"... I suppose I knew that..." 

Yugi took hold of Atem's wrist as he passed. "Come sit down, Pharaoh. Let me show you."

Atem let himself be led to the bed, a bit dazedly. The way that Yugi twisted his hips was hypnotic, rattling the chains about his waist just faintly. After a moment, he crawled up onto the bed, straddling Atem's lap and beginning to slowly, languidly undress the Pharaoh, hips still rotating in an entirely maddening way. He didn't grind harshly, but lightly; almost teasingly, never letting the friction grow too intense. Atem, understanding that he wasn't necessarily supposed to move, resisted the urge to rip off his own very troublesome clothes; let Yugi do it, for him, and then laid back when Yugi pressed lightly down on his shoulders. 

"I love you, Pharaoh..." Again, Yugi didn't speak it, his hot mouth too busy decorating Atem's bare chest with love marks. His hands, too, were occupied, playing with the skirts he still hadn't seen fit to completely remove. 

"Love you... so much..." Atem gasped out, trying to wrap his arms around Yugi; Yugi straightened, for a moment, and pinned them above his head. The silks fastened to Yugi's wrists obscured Atem's vision, in such a position. 

"You're not allowed to touch a dancer when they're performing..." Yugi whispered, then dipped his head so his breath bathed Atem's ear. "You should know that, Pharaoh..." 

Atem groaned in frustration, but let his arms go limp above his head; Yugi released them, his hands returning to their own erotic dances. Atem closed his eyes at some point, giving himself over to the maddening, rhythmic waves of pleasure that Yugi was setting off. Their minds pressed closer even than their bodies, with the tantalizing distance Yugi maintained between them; each shared in the other's pleasure and so doubled their own, an exponential cycle that lifted them both higher and higher until it was near intolerable. Only then did Yugi abandon his act, and Atem, freed from restraint, all but leaped up to merge their bodies as their minds. Within heated moments they were both overtaken by an ecstatic force like a desert storm, and road it together until the winds died down. Then, both spent, they collapsed, Yugi still sprawled atop Atem and the Pharaoh gasping raggedly for breath beneath him. 

"Cancel..." Atem muttered, and Yugi made a questioning sound. 

"Cancel?" he asked, too weary to speak aloud. "Cancel what?" 

"Cancel tomorrow... I'm not getting up... ever again..." 

"We have a wedding to attend tomorrow, Pharaoh." 

"You should have thought about that before you killed me."

Yugi chuckled, twisting to kiss Atem's cheek. "You'll be fine, by tomorrow."

But the Pharaoh was falling asleep, his drowsy mind nearly dragging Yugi's into unconsciousness along with it. Yugi pulled mentally back, just slightly, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He gazed down at Atem's peaceful face, still flushed from passion, and smiled. 

"You shouldn't run yourself so ragged, Pharaoh..." he breathed, brushing Atem's hair out of his sweaty face. Then he slithered backwards, from the bed, and gingerly unhooked what little clothing he wore. He tugged Atem's robes gently out from under him; straightened the blankets as best he could; blew out the lamps about the room so that only the moonlight filtering in through the window remained. 

Only then did Yugi crawl up into the bed once again and cuddle in beside Atem. The Pharaoh, though still asleep, rolled automatically to curl around Yugi's smaller form, and Yugi smiled. 

"I love you, Pharaoh..."

Though the Pharaoh didn't wake to reply, Yugi felt the tender nudge of his mind; a soft good-night kiss. He snuggled into Atem, then, and eased their minds together; followed the Pharaoh into peaceful, loving sleep.

So I wrote a thing and I got stuck but I wanted to ask @doitsuki what they think of it so far because uh...this ship, you are the expert, friendo.

The air in the court was one of benevolent indulgence, the light filtering through the windows shimmering in a shifting array of colors. The jewels of the gathered threw spangles of contrasting gem tones, backed in soft gold and bright silver. Two gleaming thrones perched atop the dais, the sorcerers in them both studies in casual leadership. On the right sat the more pale of the two, the ridges of his blue-white crest brushed with gold dust, each ring and chain link polished to a mirror sheen, hoof caps flicking red light this way and that as he bobbed one leg, the garnets within looking like little more than drops of sunset in the golden settings. He toyed with the fingers of the male beside him, twisting a band set with chips of dark amethyst on a finger only slightly paler than the stones. The other male, in contrast to the blue-white skin and gold jewelry, was a shade of lavender typically only seen in the earliest hours of morning, the metals gracing his skin all shades of hard silver, brushed and obscuring in contrast to his partner's shining mirrors. His hooves were unadorned, though crisply cut and polished, and the slight shift of them across the dais gave a faint, hollow scrape that indicated he went entirely unshod. His robe--covering far more than his position dictated, certainly more than his mate, clad in only the heavy gold belt with its dangling chains--settled between bare, muscular thighs and flashed the hint of a crease when he moved. His eyes rest on the bowing supplicant before their thrones, offering a neatly-sealed scroll in both dusky blue hands. "You may approach and state to Us your business with the court," he told the younger male calmly, his gentle voice carrying well through the room's carefully-wrought acoustics. The supplicant rose, jewelry whispering as it resettled against the heavy muscles of the broad-shouldered form. The white-skinned male paused only briefly in his toying with his mate's ring, rich blue eyes roving over the supplicant's bared body with unfeigned interest. The chains he wore, though few and thick, were expertly forged from empyrium, polished so that the deep blue metal looked as though it held back a million stars in each link. The stones that graced the pendants attached to the chains were large and flawless, the three basic colors of arcana splayed across the dusky blue chest. One nipple displayed a large hoop with three small stones dangling from it, chiming gently as he breathed. "My Lords," his voice was lighter than expected, making two sets of eyebrows raise slightly, "I come bearing the request for the proclamation of a new Master of the Conservatory, signed in support by all of the Masters therein." The paler of the two continued to study him, stroking the tips of his digits over the amethyst-flecked rings absently. He looks like a Jed'hin master, he shared the excited thought with his mate in the space between their minds, I need at least twelve. Outwardly, he simply raised a brow higher. "Surely you are aware that such unanimous support from the Conservatory's finest is unheard of," he noted, lacing his fingers with his mate's as one black brow twitched downward on the muscular male's face. Oh, look at how hard it is for him not to say something! He let a trace of his delight touch his lips. "Therefore, We must review the documentation, as well as your recorded projects, and We will return Our answer to the Conservatory in the morning." He gave his mate's hand a light squeeze when both dark brows twitched inward this time. He is trying so desperately not to argue! Twelve at least, Len. The lavender-skinned Lord squeezed back, stretching one long, toned leg out before him. Breathe, Jaakeil, or you'll start thinking so loudly he'll hear you. "You have an objection to Our desire to be thorough," the faint flick of his gaze to the Herald by the doors was just enough to be obvious, "Imonde?" The supplicant snapped his head down, closing his eyes at the faint titter that ran through the onlookers at the implication that he couldn't control his emotions enough to hide them effectively. "Of course not, Lord Velen," he spoke clearly despite his embarrassment, "I simply worry for the state of the Conservatory. The Masters are neither patient nor even-tempered, and without a direct authority at their reins, the potential chaos could be exponential." "The Masters of the Conservatory are hardly children, to require a parental guiding hand," Velen managed to sound calm and faintly disapproving despite his mate squealing loudly in his mind, "but your concern is noted." The words held social forgiveness for his inability to control his expression; the crowd in the court immediately resumed their soft, thoughtful murmurs. "The names and seals on the scroll must be noted in the instance of this unprecedented experience, and their choice given careful scrutiny. We will return with our blessing--or denial--in the morning. Rooms shall be prepared for you to pass the hours until then." He lifted his empty hand and gestured to the majordomo. Len he didn't compare them to children he said -reins- like they're unruly talbuk and his face is getting all twitchy again he has no control that's just not fair. Jaakeil shifted his weight to his other hip, drinking in the slight frown creasing the dark features even as Imonde ducked his head to try to hide it. One does not become the unanimous selection of the Masters of the Conservatory with no control, Keil. Also, that Jed'hin muscle structure is almost all illusion. Velen paused his gesture. "You have aught to add, Imonde?" "I would not put your staff to trouble, my Lords," still hiding his face, the muscular man rolled his shoulder back. The posture gave an odd mixture of pride and shame. "I am perfectly capable of teleporting to my own chambers at the Conservatory and back to the capital in the morning." "We did not suggest that you were not," Jaakeil told him, almost musing as he considered the colors of his and Velen's intertwined fingers, "however, We were also unaware that We had stuttered." He raised his bright blue eyes to meet the sliver visible of Imonde's and tilted his head to the side. I don't even care that he's playing on my intense affection for out-of-control brutes, he thought to his mate, I still need twelve.  Imonde lowered his gaze almost immediately, his frown disappearing in what wasn't quite the ghost of a smile. "As my Lords command, so it shall be," he murmured. Velen dragged his hooves back under him, and he and Jaakeil stood as one. "As there are no further pressing matters of court, We shall retire to privacy," he announced, "We have much to consider." He didn't so much as glance to his mate as one golden-wrapped hoof came down on a special plate between their thrones, sending out a ringing bell tone through the court. The sound ushered the crowd out before it, then soaked into the walls instead of echoing. Velen brought his husband's hand to his lips, giving their interlocked fingers a kiss. Shall we, my love? Jaakeil gave his hand a squeeze, a faint smile gracing his face. I thought they wouldn't leave fast enough. He followed his mate to the small teleportation discs behind their thrones, releasing his hand to step onto his and be whisked to their rooms in a flash of pinkish-white light. Velen was half a step behind him; when the taller Eredar materialized, Jaakeil pushed him back against the wall, pressing their lips together with all the enthusiasm he'd kept hidden between them earlier. His hand found the clasps holding the wrapped robe on easily, and by the time their tongues met the pressure of his husband's lust was the only thing keeping Velen' s robe on. Pale hands tugged at the fabric anyway, and Jaakeil growled when it caught on his belt. "Easy, my beauty," Velen murmured, catching his mate's wrists and lifting them to press a kiss each to the insides, "I will not be able to stop myself from getting upset should you tear my favorite robe." Halfway through making a face to sum up his frustrations, Jaakeil paused. He gripped Velen's split crest and pulled his taller mate down to stare him in the eye. That's what you call your talbuk, he pointed out, a bright thread of interest popping through his thoughts. 'My beauty.' The lavender Eredar slid his palms along the length of his mate's arms, cocking his head despite the weight on his crest and humming thoughtfully. Well, he is also a magnificent example of his species... his hands mapped over well-known territory, fingers finally catching on the belt and disentangling it from his robe and tossing it aside, and I also very much enjoy riding him.