Kishiar x Yuder truly just check all of my favourite shipping tropes:
Sun & Moon couple ✅
Power couple ✅
Age difference ✅
Height difference ✅
Size difference ✅
Goth girlfriend x Sunshine ✅
Insanity guy x Insanity guy ✅
Cannot decide who is more insane ✅
~Horny~ x HORNY ✅
Both think the other one is the best thing ever to occur EVER ✅
Openly a simp x Secretly a simp ✅
One of them killed the other ✅
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Desert duo’s relationship is so interesting,, like Grian is secretly cheating but Scar knows but won’t say anything and they are still basing together despite complaining about it before and they care about the other’s safety but whether that is because of affection or the fact that their lives are connected is debatable,, they’re the last green pair but we know that it probably won’t last long and I’m both scared and so so interested in how their dynamic might change depending on how they lose their lives and if it will bring them closer or drive them apart,, I am rotating them around in my brain constantly and I want them to suffer but I desperately want them to be okay in the end,,
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Serbro save me,,,,,,,,,,,serbro,,,,,,,,,,,,save me serbro
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“This reminds me of playtime back home,” Diana’s smile is pearly and smudged with blood, and Bruce struggles not to stare.
He won’t point out that she just ripped an alien apart with her bare hands and way too little effort.
He wants to. Anyone would have words faced with gods, but he doesn’t trust his conversation skills.
“Hn.”
“Boy, you’re a chatty one,” Green Lantern is positively insufferable.
He’s whip-smart, dangerously brave, selfless and tactical when needs be, but insufferable all the same, “ Also, cool boomerang.”
Defensive, Bruce grips the gadget a little closer to his hip, “It’s a batarang.” And it was my son’s idea. Of course it’s impressive.
The brunette snorts, Diana chuckling alongside him, both entirely too bright for the gore on their clothes, “Oh yeah, that sounds so much better. But you obviously know how to handle it, I’ll tell you that much,”
inwardly, Bruce frowns. Why would he design a weapon he couldn’t use?
“Yes, your combat skills are impressive! You must do your tribe proud,”
Involuntarily, his head lowers in embarrassment. The cowl feels ten times hotter now, and he wants to snarl at Superman for tugging at the pointy ears. His smile just blinds him too much, that’s all.
Aquaman picks body matter out of his hair, beach sand blonde, sending The Flash a smirk Bruce assumes is teasing.
He can’t quite tell. They’ve known each other for 10 hours, 20 minutes, and 32 seconds, and an odd, familiar energy had settled. “At least you’re not the only nerd in class.”
The Flash is young; Bruce notes the eagerness in his footsteps, the reckless courage, the perseverance to fight for the world and against it;
More than anything, he notices pride sparking a light in his chest.
“Not a nerd!"
"Whatever, speedy,"
"This nerd saved your well-conditioned ass! But anyway, DUDE, – I mean, can we talk about the tech? Just, – I need to know how you designed that utility belt, because holy FUCK, -,”
There’s a full minute of just animated hand gestures, plentiful explanations, queries, and Bruce of course pays attention to all of it.
The Flash, – Barry, as he accidentally revealed five minutes in, too lost in excitable rambling to notice, – stops, frowns,
“Uh, dude? I mean, obviously, the whole,” he gestures to the entirety of Bruce, “Man Bat thing, that rocks, but isn’t it easier to just use your powers?”
Superman’s fingers snap, “I was wondering about that! Why didn’t you?”
But there’s an underlying hint that the man already suspects it; It makes Bruce’s teeth grind anxiously, looking around expectant, curious eyes,
“I don’t have superpowers,” the truth spills in a rush, and Bruce doesn’t take it back in time.
They share stunned looks between them, but sky-blue eyes, peppered with a ring of brown in the left one, those stay on him. He’s uncomfortable with the appreciative gleam.
Superman smirks, “We should do this again!”
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The LAYERS needed in a modern/human Dreamling au. Some level of Endless family dysfunction, obviously. Hob's family can be be dead or not, it's all good. Are they old enough to have individually gained the awareness they are off-puttingly intense and should hide it a bit at first, or still in that "no, why would I need to Elsa this" stage?
Option A is both of them trying to play it cool, like "don't scare him off" except they so badly want to go from zero to sixty.
(Death and Desire have ruthlessly drilled Dream with flashcards about how to react appropriately in situations.
Desire: it's your one-month anniversary, what do you do?
Dream: [hesitantly] NOT propose?
Desire and Death, conferring, because that's technically correct but the delivery was suspect.
Death, encouragingly: Good start. And?
Dream: a nice dinner and maybe a walk?
Desire: well done!
Death: and for a three-month anniversary?
Dream: give them a key to my flat.
Desire: [airhorn] NO. RED CARD.)
Option B makes them the classic anecdotal "my grandparents got engaged within seven days of meeting each other and still are happy together".
(Death, rubbing her temples: so you met this guy--
Dream: Hob
Death: -- Hob, and within 1 day you gave notice to the Registrar's Office and figured out the best day to get married. And Hob agreed to this?
Dream: NO.
Death: oh thank go-
Dream: Hob SUGGESTED this.
Death: . . .
Dream: are you going to be a witness or not?
Death, 29 days later in the Registrar's Office, to Hob's witness: Is he sane?
Johanna Constantine, drinking heavily from a large flask: unfortunately yes, by all legal definitions.
Death: fuck
Johanna: [passing the flask over] if your brother's even a tenth as intense as Hob, they'll be fine. Probably.
Death, brightening: Is Hob that bad?
Johanna: You know how sometimes you meet somebody and think "oof, they're a bit much, best give them a wide berth"?
Death: yeah.
Johanna: Hob's like a camouflaged hole in the ground of muchness. Except he's done the hole up all nice and he knows that sometimes you just want to be left alone in the hole to sulk and rattle the spikes for a bit, and occasionally get a F&M hamper tossed in.
Death: [hmmmmmmm'ing approvingly]
Johanna, morose: the bastard.
In the background, Hob and Dream are pressing their foreheads together and basking in each other's presence)
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