#dungeonshipping

Made for @deathandnonexistentialdread

As always, I invite everyone to reblog this with ship propaganda and fic recs. 💛

Softshipping: Ryou Bakura x Serenity Wheeler

Personally I think this ship has the potential to be adorable. Joey might even approve of it, because being the protective older brother that he is, he would absolutely be threatening his sister's boyfriend and keeping him in line. And let's just say, Ryou is no physical challenge for Joey.

Dungeonshipping: Duke Devlin x Maximilian Pegasus

Duke having a crush on his idol is entirely believable, and I could believe in Pegasus manipulating the hell out of him if they got together while both villains. Take out the villainy, and it's almost a cute "crush on teacher" dynamic.

Axisshipping: Seto Kaiba x Siegfried von Schroeder

They hate each other, so they love each other. Classic case of competitors in similar situations being unable to stand the person that is so similar to them. But there are enough distinctions that it's just as fascinating as Puppyshipping imo: Sieg being born into money while Seto is adopted; Seto getting the I² contract over Sieg; different relationships with their brothers.

Buddyshipping: Joey Wheeler x Tristan Taylor

Best friends with benefits. These two are a package deal canonically anyways, let's just raise the stakes, yeah? Seriously though, there's deep care between these two that gets explored a bit better in the manga I think, but they're teenage guys being idiots about liking each other, so they insult each other as friends instead.

[Pegasus J. Crawford/Otogi Ryuji] [Maximillion Pegasus/Duke Devlin]

(Not sure if you meant separately or at the same time but I love you, here you gooo.) 

“Kaiba-boy,” Pegasus mused as long fingers roamed along his scalp and down his tresses, “Playing with mine won’t make Mokuba’s longer.” 

Kaiba bit back a scowl at the man’s taunting, but continued in his effort, “Seto.” Pegasus said with a bit more sternness, catching his lover’s wrist in his palm. He sat up, lazily draped an arm over the man’s rigid shoulder, and smiled, almost contentedly at him.

He did not need a magic eye to read the younger’s thoughts. The hair Mokuba was born with, identical to their mother’s, the hair he had brushed, and tamed, and untangled from masking tape in their many moves across the world, was on some dirty salon floor, swept up, thrown out, like nothing. 

The sob does not leave his throat. Pegasus kisses the trembling lips anyway.

-

He did not sleep in patterns, at night, in some six or eight hour intervals. He dozed when exhaustion found him with enough conviction to settle into his bones before cold, stagnant fear ravaged it out. As a result, often times when he woke, it was to rhythm.

The soft humming of employees, a gentle strum of fingertips on the keyboard, footsteps chasing down corridors: thump, echo, disappear. 

This time, it was different.

“What on earth are you doing?” He mock-scolded, lifting his chin from the palm it had been resting in and hoping it had not left an imprint on his cheek. 

“Trying to let you sleep.” The boy answered sheepishly, small child in his unoccupied arm, against his hip. 

AS WEIRD AS THIS WILL SOUND, I HAVEN'T THOUGHT OF THIS ONE, EITHER.