#you're my whole universe

[nipuni]

Silence in the library

A speedpaint video of this will be available at my Patreon on february 1st!

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Writing Prompt #8

The day Bruce Wayne knocks on her apartment door Sam knows it's going to be a doozy.

"Mr. Wayne, I really do hope no one saw you," she says, ushering him in. "And for the record, a text ahead of time would be appreciated."

"I parked the car a few streets away," Bruce says, sticking a finger in his heel to peel his polished leather shoes off. Sam raises an eyebrow. "It's a sedan, not a Lamborghini."

"You own a sedan?"

"Taught Dick to drive in it...after he crashed the Lamborghini."

Sam snorts despite herself. The charm Bruce Wayne exhibits would usually rub her the wrong way, too reminiscent of wealthy men that feel comfortable placing a hand on the small of your back at a crowded gala, but Bruce is honest enough about his playacting that she has come to find its insincerity comforting. She's actually sought him out more than once, leading to several annoying headlines that can't seem to decide if she's aiming to date him or one of his eligible sons. None of whom are eligible by the way, as they are a) taken, b) legally dead, c) practically a minor, and d) an actual minor.

Sam's generational wealth is peanuts compared to Wayne Industries, so naturally her parents have been thrilled and rooting for option c.

"I also didn't want Danny to see I'd texted you. Or force you to lie to him."

Sam doesn't quite tense, but it's a near thing. She does slide to the other side of her kitchen island, under the context of finishing prepping her feta fried eggs, laid on a bed of smashed avocado and warm tortilla. She pulls a bottle of crunchy garlic oil out of the fridge and drizzles hot red crisps across the runny yolk. She takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully, not so much as offering him a glass of water.

"You realize, Mr. Wayne, I have no intention of lying to Danny now?"

Bruce sits at the stool on the opposite side of the island. "I understand. And if you want to ask Danny to return home before we continue, I'd understand that as well. I didn't mean to discomfit you--"

"Please do not lie to me now, Mr. Wayne," Sam says, rolling her eyes. "By your own admission you showed up at noon without warning knowing my superhero boyfriend wouldn't be present. If I am discomfited, all the more likely you get your information, right?" Golden yolk runs down her fingers, and she sacrifices it to the napkin rather than lick up her arm in front of her boss, with no small amount of resentment. The yolk is the best part.

"Get to it then," she demands.

Bruce straightens in his stool, chin raising and firming in a jawline she most often sees under a cowl. His eyes attempt to pin her in place, but Sam has stared the Master of Time in the face and demand he reschedule so she is built. different. She takes another bite of egg taco.

"I was not aiming for you to feel threatened, and moreover, I doubt you could be."

Except a smart person should always feel threatened by a threat, no matter their capability of handling one. It keeps them alive.

"Can you tell me how I'm not like all the other girls after lunch? You'll spoil my appetite."

Bruce clears his throat. "I'll get to the point--"

"Thank you."

"--Danny has been exhibiting paranormal behaviors beyond his baseline. We welcome all biologies; human, alien, and paranormal alike, but I have observed actions unlike what he had previously established as his, for lack of a better word, 'normal'

"I want to make sure he is not experiencing any unwelcome outside influence. Or, if this is merely a facet of his evolution, I'd like to know if this is something we or his family should be monitoring."

Sam has been an eco-consultant with Wayne Industries and unofficially, the Batfamily, for half a year now and this is the most she's ever heard the man speak in one sitting.

"Wow," she says. "How long have you been rehearsing that one?"

"A while." Bruce grunts, voice finally taking that final drop into Batman's gravelly rasp. "I see you're not surprised by any of this."

"No, not really," Sam says. She pours him a tall glass of lemon water from the pitcher, freshly sliced that morning, and he takes a polite sip.

"So what can you tell me?"

"Probably a lot. And Danny would probably prefer that I do, knowing him, the big baby," Sam sighs. "Listen Mr. Wayne, I can appreciate that you came here from a place of caution rather than intrusion. And if Danny was undergoing something negative or from an 'unwelcome outside influence' that would be the right call, and I, albeit begrudgingly, encourage you to do so in the future."

"But he's not."

"He's not," Sam confirms. "And in fact, I think he could really use someone to talk to about it. Outside of his family."

"I see..." Bruce says, shifting.

"If you want to tag team this one with one of the higher EQ players, such as Superman, I give you permission." Sam does not think she's imagining that slight sag of relief.

"Thank you," Bruce says, sliding off the stool. "I don't suppose you have material we could consult...?"

"Actually yes, I happen to have a pamphlet right here. 'So your ghostly body is changing, and how.'"

"You're being more sarcastic than usual."

"You interrupted my lunch, Mr. Wayne."

[significant-narratives]

quinn has a libra sun / sagittarius moon which is honestly a very sweet whimsical combo that makes him a natural leader with a lot of optimisim and drive and then you look down his chart and it's [glass smashing] mercury in scorpio [horn blaring] venus in virgo [tires screeching] mars in sagittarius

[liridus]

Now that I've had time to feel all my love and nostalgia for bnha, and I'm actually thinking about the ending a little bit more, it strikes me how sad it is. Like it's a good ending for our heroes, but that's just it, it's just a good ending for our heroes. I know we gets little bits and bobs of quirk counseling and heteromorph visibility and working towards their acceptance, but some of it feels a little last minute?

I know there are points to be made about punishment for crimes, but is death all there is to that? We see the league's backstories and we're sympathetic towards them, but I do think that seeing them working towards redemption would be a little more satisfying. Not all of them, I do understand the satisfaction of a good and tragic death in media, but part of it just rubs me the wrong way. I do think it takes away some of the nuance of the grey of heros and villains when all the people on the villain side end up dead or dying, and heroes who have made big mistakes are redeemed so easily.

I think bnha tries to be grey, and it does at times do a good job of it, but sometimes it feels like it chickens out and goes back to black and white. Because who even are heroes without villains to fight? And when the villains aren't completely immortal and irredeemable, what does that make the heroes?

[necrotic-nephilim]

there is not enough femslash in batcest circles. the girls deserve to be just as weird about each other as the boys are. if BruDick gets to be weird father/son/brothers/lovers/friends/rivals/soulmates then it is only fair that Babs/Cass get to be mother/daughter/sisters/lovers too. Something about that deep intrinsic but undefinable love that is born out of trauma, especially if you consider Cass not knowing what healthy love looks like in the first place. i think it's fun and deserves just as much fandom content.

besides that, you can get even more niche with rarepairs like Helena/Steph. Huntress/Spoiler: Blunt Trauma is already a fantastic comic and even though it's their only real canon interaction it has so much potential. very comparable to TimJay in how Helena tries to get Steph to understand her morals and the corruption you could play with it.

batman: huntress/spoiler: blunt trauma (1998)

that comic also highlights on how both Steph and Helena are outcasts of the Batfamily and don't have the approval of Bruce to be doing what they do in "his city". I think there's so much Potential in Helena taking Steph under her wing because Bruce won't let her in and it becomes a weird codependent toxic sapphic mess. I think the protectiveness Helena feels over Steph from the get-go is so clear and the way she wants to look out for Steph, wants to make sure Steph understands the real world? I love them. Helena should be allowed to steal Steph, actually. I think it'd be fun.

there are a lot of other possibilities too like Babs/Steph or even getting weird with Helena Bertinelli/Helena Wayne and the existential question of "is it selfcest or not." But these two specifically live in my head rent-free, especially Helena/Steph and one day I'll convince everyone else to ship it too.

[blackhholes]

Teen Wolf as Arthurian Characters

Theo Raeken as Sir Mordred

[canisalbus]

Vasco and Machete are absolutely adorable, your style is so lovely and you draw the softest beds I’ve ever seen in any art ever

.

[ruvviks]

The resistance has fallen. Mac and Layla and their friends have been driven out of Los Angeles and are hunted down by Matrix Corp, the corporation now proven to have played a rather antagonistic part in the pandemic that unleashed bloodthirsty zombies upon the world. With no foot to stand on and no safe home to fall back on, the group has to trek back into the wasteland to reunite with some old friends— in hopes to find the stability they need to work on a plan to take Matrix down once and for all. But strange things are happening in the wastes of the United States. Ghouls are becoming smarter, and stronger— and the sudden appearance of a series of strange and hostile settlements tells the group a new player has entered the game, and they are out for blood. [SEASON ONE HERE] // [SEASON TWO HERE]

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @bialanwake, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree;

@kanos, @swordcoasts, @ordinarymaine, @claudiawolf, @strafethesesinners;

@mnwlk

[hella1975]

hiiii haha. hello. exceptionally awkward introduction bc idrk how to start something like this so let's just jump right in. im taking a break from this account for a bit. i know i said i wanted taob out before halloween and currently im fine sticking with that deadline, but if i decide i need longer away then i will take longer away. every time ive reassured people that id never abandon a fic and updates will always come eventually i never once considered that my writing and ability to feel safe and comfortable on this site would be actively taken from me, so im not even going to apologise. i dont want this either and more importantly i dont fucking deserve it. i dont know what it is in the past year, if ive hit a certain amount of followers or 'popularity' that's made it so the natural ratio of positive to negative interactions must in turn go up, but there's been a serious uptick in weird asks for me. the annoying part is that a very small amount of them are actually objectively mean and hateful, the rest are just weird and invasive from people who seemingly dont realise that's what they're being. ive reached a point where i dont care if the intentions are good. it's not my job as a 20 year old tumblr user of all things to defend the morality of someone who couldnt even bother to come off anon. unfortunately, after blocking only one or two anons, the weird asks have decreased substantially, which says all you need to know about the fascinating and exhilarating lives led by these people, but ive also gone on to turn anon asks off entirely. this is something i actively fought against doing and had to be pushed into by my mutuals (who have been the coolest people on planet earth during this entire thing). turning off anon was a big deal to me even if it sounds silly. i felt betrayed and like id been backed into a corner because it was so vehmently something i DIDNT WANT that to feel like i had to do it anyway for my own mental health??? that sucks. so even though ive 'fixed' the problem, im still kind of reeling and uncomfortable every time i come on tumblr. i hope it's just something i need time to ease because i'll truly be devastated if this becomes 'ruined' for me. tumblr exists as the only place in the world where i am honestly every facet of myself without shame or hesitation; losing that would be insanely harmful to me. and to the people who cant appeal to the actual human behind the post, let me put that in words you can understand: we wouldn't get any more writing 😦😦😦 riots and fires and sirens, i know. so yeah. to anyone who has sent me an anon ask and you're now wondering if you were part of the problem, im firmly of the belief that you'll know if you are. when i say 'weird asks' i dont mean 'you sent me a para about your personal life just to vent or ask for advice' or 'you sent me a really deep emotional compliment about the impact me and/or my writing has had on you' - i love asks like that, so much that i put off taking a break and turning off anon solely for the joy they bring me. im sorry that it might feel like you're being punished too bc of the actions of what in reality is a HANDFUL of weird people, but this is what i feel like i have to do to feel safe and not go insane every time i log in. love you guys, hopefully ill see you soon x

[timechange]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 — video rental.

JUNE 12, 1984

“Hey Doc, can we watch this one next?”

Most sixteen-year-olds, on the anniversary of their births, would mark the occasion with a sweet sixteen party. They would not celebrate by spending the night in a garage smelling of oil, fries, and flame-broiled burgers in the company of a crazy old man and his dog.

Then again, Marty wasn’t most sixteen-year-olds, and Emmett had never been more grateful for that.

“Close Encounters of the Third Kind,” he recites, squinting a little to see the cassette tape case as Marty waves it around, offering a bemused smile. “That over American Graffiti? Or Star Wars?”

“Those are great!” Marty’s quick to defend. “But I think this one might be my favorite. I mean, all of these are my favorites, but this one…” He grins. “It’s outta sight, Doc.”

“You might even say it’s… out of this world?”

“Jesus, Doc, that was terrible,” Marty rolls his eyes and groans, but his grin doesn’t fade. If anything, it brightens. “I kinda walked into that one, huh?”

“You did,” Emmett agrees. “But go on, go on. Tell me more.” He’d seen the movie before, of course; he’d gone to see it when it first came out in theaters. Ever since he’d first seen Frankenstein as a boy, he'd tried hard never to miss a science fiction release, but seeing Marty’s boundless enthusiasm makes him want to see it all over again through his eyes.

“My dad took me to see it,” Marty explains. “I must’ve been about… nine?… And yeah, it’s about aliens, and that’s cool, but it’s about way more than that. Connection, love, and music, Doc. How music brings us all together. How it can help us save the world. That’s why I think it’s my favorite movie— if I had to pick just one, y’know? Plus… I think it’s the first— hell, maybe the only— time I remember my dad being happy. Really, actually happy. I, uh… I guess that doesn’t make any sense, does it?” He runs his hand along his upper arm, looking away as a shadow clouds his features.

“Marty, my boy, it makes all the sense in the world.” Emmett gives him a reassuring smile, squeezing his shoulder firmly. “Let’s make some more popcorn and get started.”

Marty’s smile returns in an instant.

[nevermeanttoknow]

hes a vast avatar to me for reasons

[lilacerull0]

i haven't even seen the episode yet, but learning about the fact that they didn't include such an essential aspect of the story is making me feel so irrationally sad

[owl-with-a-pen]

[Haven't dropped a fic sneak peek in a while. And yes, despite the word count, this is just a peek. Very self-indulgent fic on a Supergirl-verse Legion origin story for Brainy, starring a certain descendant of Nia's that I have yet to write for. For anyone interested, the fic is under the cut. 😉]

Querl Dox was easily the strangest Coluan that Nura had ever seen. With his washed-out blue skin and frazzled hair as stark as her own, had she not dreamt of him beforehand, she never would have placed him as a native of Colu.

The three circles on his forehead glowed dully – some kind of transdermal implant, she suspected. A body modification? They weren’t uncommon on this side of the galaxy, although Coluan mods were never usually so exposed.

He didn’t wear them as a mark of pride, that was for sure. They looked cumbersome on his thin frame, odd ends of wiry hair thrown overtop in a vain attempt to disguise them. It could have been how he held himself naturally, she supposed - hunched over like a moody teenager trying to mask his face from the world.

No, that was exactly what he was. A teenager. Maybe pushing late adolescence by now, just like her. Not that age meant much to a Coluan, all they really cared about was intellectual maturity. Still, Nura thought it would be a few years yet until he fully grew into those implants.

Maybe they were an aid of some sort – not that he’d ever admit to it.

Nura smirked. Not yet, at least.

He hadn’t moved since she’d started watching him. Comfortably unobservable from behind a screen of one-way plasma glass, there was no way he could have known she was there. It wasn’t until Mon-El and Imra entered through the main doorway that he'd known he had visitors at all.

He didn’t so much as glance in their direction. Instead, he remained perched on the edge of the single bed he’d been granted, head bowed towards his knees, the glow of his implants reflecting back against his face like a ghostly shadow.

This was the make it or break it moment, as Mon-El had once called it. The part where an offer went one of two ways. While many wayward teens would have jumped at the chance to join their ranks, appealing to potential Legionnaires wasn’t always so easy.

After all, this was the first time that initiation would be conducted from a prison cell.

Nura followed Imra and Mon-El’s progress in a trance-like state, her mind dipped halfway into the future as her visions spun duplicates of the very conversation being had. She hummed along to the tune of the words yet to be spoken, mouthing Mon-El’s opening line, reciting it from memory.

“So,” Mon-El said casually, stopping in front of the cell that housed one Querl Dox. He caught Imra’s eye. “Interplanetary grand-theft auto, huh? I’m told you souped up some very nice engines for some very bad people.” He cracked an easy smile. “What were you trying to be, some kind of mechanic?”

Silence followed. Querl kept his head down, hands wrung loosely by his knees.

Mon-El wasn’t deterred quite so easily. “No, you’re right. Your talents would be wasted on something like that.” He folded his arms, widening his stance. “We don’t see too many Coluans this far from home.”

That got a reaction. Nura was just able to catch it beneath the shroud of Querl’s matted hair - a twitch of the lips as he bared his teeth at the ground.  

“Although, I can’t say I’m surprised,” Mon-El continued, feigning ignorance. “With a family like yours, I’m sure it’s better you keep your distance, right?”

 A sound rumbled from Querl’s chest, something that could have passed as a laugh if it hadn’t been for the jarring robotic quality. He rubbed at his wrist idly, scanning the floor beyond his cell. “So, you figured it out,” he muttered. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

Mon-El pulled a face. “I mean, maybe a little. The whole blue thing nearly threw us off. Although, I’ve got some second-hand experience with your family. Indigo was one of your relatives, wasn’t she?”

Querl stiffened. “A distant relation.”

“Right.” Mon-El nodded along. “Like Brainiac.”

Querl flinched, meeting Mon-El’s eye for the first time. Behind that shock of white hair was an alarmingly dark expression, one that bore into Mon-El with an intensity that twisted Nura’s stomach into knots. She’d known mostly what to expect from Querl Dox, and she’d warned her friends as much. If Mon-El hadn’t been listening to her then, he would certainly understand the might of the mind sat before him now.

Querl wasn’t just some moody teenager. With one wrong word, he could become their most formidable enemy to date.

It won’t happen like that, Nura reminded herself. This would all be fine. It had to be. She’d seen it.

Sort of.

Imra took Mon-El’s arm, making out as though she was offering him a steadying hand. Nura could read between the lines. She disapproved of Mon-El’s method – she was probably giving him a psychic reprimand in the same gesture.

Imra Ardeen was a woman of few words during most first-contacts with Legion potentials, but that didn’t mean she was just some impassive tag-along. If anything, Imra’s job was the most critical to their success. While Mon-El did the talking, she was already reading the thoughts of their would-be recruits, acting as a living lie-detector to ensure the validity of their intentions. That job was made a little more difficult with the psychic shielding fitted to any standard U.P prison cell, but not impossible. She was well enough acquainted with the mind from her broad studies on Titan to read a person’s expressions just as easily.  

Mon-El sighed, nodding almost imperceptibly in Imra’s direction. He scratched his jaw, clearing his throat. “Look,” he said levelly, “if you think that’s why we’re here, it isn’t. It’s just, I notice you’ve hopped between a lot of jail cells these last few years. Petty crime, mostly. Wrong place, wrong time, right?”

Querl narrowed his eyes.

“Except,” Mon-El hastened, “if you’re a Brainiac, that makes you pretty damn smart. Smart enough to know how not to get caught.” When Querl didn’t say anything to that, Mon-El relaxed, smiling knowingly. “Yeah,” he murmured, “thought so.”

Querl’s nostrils flared in irritation. Mon-El was playing on some very dangerous territory to dangle something like that over Querl’s head. Implying he knew something that Querl didn’t – well – it was the surest way to piss off any Coluan. Nura held her breath.

“Thought what?” Querl spat, teeth clenched tight.

If Mon-El felt ill at ease, he didn’t show it. Instead, he grinned. “This cell,” he said, “it’s Coluan force-shield tech, right?” He drew an outline of the cell walls with his fingers, marking all four edges as though preparing to take an old-fashioned photograph. “A few years outdated by science police standards; they probably should’ve gone for the upgrade.” He winked. “Even with power dampeners, your intellect is still unmatchable, especially with home advantage. You could break out at any time. But you don’t. For the same reason you got caught in the first place.” He tipped his chin forward seriously. “Want me to keep going?”

Querl scoffed, though Nura could hear the strain in it.

Mon-El didn’t need much encouragement. “Okay, well, the last ship you souped up was being used as a getaway vehicle for a string of interplanetary robberies. The most recent robbery, the one that got you and the rest of your little crew incarcerated – huh - it’s pretty interesting. Your ship gets into a chase with the science police, and in the process, it ends up on a collision course with a civilian air-car. Your ship has shielding, it’d be fine, but that civilian ship would’ve been blown out of the sky. No survivors.”

Querl’s glare was practically poisonous.

“Weird, then,” Mon-El continued amiably, “that before both ships can collide, yours experiences a total power loss. Stalls and starts falling mid-flight, giving the authorities the opportunity to snag your ship before it can do any damage. Now, they’re saying it was an engine malfunction on all the official documentation, and maybe that’s true. But I’m thinking with your skill, there’s no way that engine went in faulty.” He crossed his arms behind his back. “Do you want to know what I think? I think someone tampered with it in a way that would’ve been totally imperceptible to the rest of the crew. Because the person that did it not only built it, but wouldn’t have needed to touch it at all.”

“Are you accusing me of something?” Querl muttered. He made a flippant gesture to his cell. “Because if you are, then I think you’ll find I’m already in the right place.”

Mon-El shook his head slowly. “See, I don’t think you are.” He stepped forward, just as Imra did the same. “My name’s Mon-El, and this is Imra Ardeen. We represent the Legion of Superheroes. We’re a pretty small organisation right now, but we’ve built up something of a reputation here on Earth - as well as the rest of the United Planets thanks to some of our newest members. We have a set of rules, but the most important one is to put the needs of the people before our own. To protect life. Never kill.” His lips quirked. “I’d say you displayed that admirably.”

Nura watched wide-eyed from her invisible vantage, knuckles pressed tight against her lips. She’d seen the outcome of the day’s events a dozen times over in her dreams, but even that wasn’t enough to quell her anxiety. Something felt wrong. She just couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

As though in answer to her fears, Querl drew back, enough that he could look Mon-El squarely in the eye. His hair fell away from his face, drawing around the edges of his implants like a display curtain. “Mon-El. Yes,” he breathed the word slowly, his dark eyes glistening with knowledge far beyond his years, “I know who you are.” He cocked his head suddenly. “It always causes a stir when someone breaks the boundaries of spacetime. You are from the past. From a dead world. The sister planet of Krypton.” His lips curled with disdain. “Daxam.”

Nura swore under her breath. Out in the cell room, Mon-El nodded, a touch of defensiveness in his tone. “Yes—"

But Querl didn’t let him finish. “You profess these ideals,” he spat, “and yet you have built a monument to your hubris with this… Legion.” He sneered at them both, drawing his fire on Imra next. “You wear your Saturn identifier with pride, Titanian. Telepathy is a most valuable gift in the art of subterfuge.” He narrowed his eyes. “All I see here is a collection of powers you can utilise to meet your own ends. And nothing good comes out of that.”

Nura jolted towards the glass as another dream claimed her, Mon-El’s words flashing in her mind seconds before they touched his lips.

“Don’t say it,” she gasped.

But it was too late.

“I suppose you would know all about collections,” Mon-El said, the charm in his tone all-but gone.

Nura swore again. Mon-El might as well have just declared war.

“Visiting hours have ended,” Querl said, his voice tight. He lay down abruptly on his side, turning away from them both so that he faced the wall. “Do not come back.”

----------------

Nura waited impatiently at the view box door, stepping aside just before it pushed open.

“I think that went well,” Mon-El remarked as he and Imra walked through, brushing himself down with a casual air.

Imra rolled her eyes. “You shouldn’t have engaged with his snark.”

“So, you agree it was snark!”

“It was a cover! I don’t need my powers to see that. It was all over his face.”

“This should be working,” Nura cut in, kicking herself from the wall as she stalked past them both towards the plasma glass view screen. She stabbed her finger at the Coluan still lying dormant on the other side. “I dreamed it. Querl Dox will agree to join the Legion. Today.”

Imra’s brow creased sympathetically. “I don’t doubt that, Nura,” she said gently. “It’s just…”

“Do you have any idea how it happens?” Mon-El asked. “A conversation starter—or a cheat sheet on what to say that won’t piss him off?”

“I could’ve told you that,” Imra muttered.

“You know that’s not how it works,” Nura sighed. “I don’t know exactly how it happens, only that it will. Besides, you two are always the ones that bring in the new recruits. It made sense.”

“Yeah, but that’s usually because we want to,” Mon-El muttered, flinching against another psychic reprimand.

Nura glared through the window, trying to make a clean study of their unwilling recruit. He’d rolled onto his back since Mon-El and Imra had left, his arms crossed smartly over his chest. To an untrained eye, it looked like he was in some sort of meditative state. Whatever it was, Nura was well enough acquainted with the unconscious realm to know it was mostly for show.

“Querl Dox is important,” Nura said, repeating her earlier words back at herself. Or, maybe they were her future words? Sometimes it was so hard to tell. She cleared her throat, raising her voice. “If the Legion is going to continue, we’ll need him. His intellect will save lives. And…” She stopped herself, clenching her hands.

“What is it?” Imra prompted.

Nura shook her head. “We don’t just need him. I think he…” She couldn’t say it yet; couldn’t betray his pride like that, not before he’d even met her for the first time.

There was a good way to rectify that, at least.

Nura sucked in a deep breath, pulling back from the window. “My visions are never wrong. Let me try and talk to him.”

“Go ahead,” Mon-El said, offering her the length of the hallway. “But I’ll warn you, he’s stubborn.”

Nura smiled grimly. “That makes two of us.”

[megaawkwardhuman]

ok an idea that's been brewing around in my little mentally ill brain for a while now is the idea of nandor getting guillermo a choker as a gift

why you may ask? welp easy chokers are fucking dope af they would make a great gift for any humans who are around vampires for a long period of time (like slayers or familiars)

cause it protects you from being fucking eaten (or at least makes it a bit of an inconvenience) and tells any vampire around you that you're more than just food

it doesn't even have to be anything fancy just a simple spiked choker with the spikes and maybe the clasp made out of silver

bada bing bada boom anti vampire protective wear

I mainly see it happening pre season 5 (maybe around when guillermo becomes his bodyguard) cuz the idea of nandor giving guillermo something like that post season 5 seems kinda passive aggressive?

like it reads as yeah I'm giving this to you so you don't pull that shit again when I'd imagine it being more of a thoughtful gift to protect memo with no other message tied to it (tho this isn't to say guillermo WON'T read the gesture in any other way)

[szappan]

im also increasingly sure that im autistic but we'll never ever confirm that </3

[ophelia-thinks]

Farscape: The Peacekeeper Wars