#mini cooper c

[jasonryudotnet]

#미니5도어 미니 코리아가 뉴 미니 쿠퍼 C 5도어를 출시했습니다. 쿠퍼 C 3도어보다 휠베이스와 차체가 길어, 뒷좌석 공간과 적재공간이 더 넉합니다. 동력계 및 구동계 구성, 트림 구성 등은 쿠퍼 C 3도어와 같습니다.

[gospelrot]

y'all ever do a lil schmokey schmoke and write the most epic fuckin backstory for a character in your lil brain, but then accidentally start another thought and lose the entire fuckin thing......................rip cool muse herstory, maybe one day you will return to me :')))

[madamadamiu]

This is lowkey gonna be a delerious worldbuilding post while I’m sick and writing and sketching issue 2. I’m experimenting with different styles of workflows. On issue one I just wrote and drew it page by pge, but this time I’m writing the whole thing out first with planned panels and scripts.

I’m trying to figure out a good year for the cat shelter AU to take place in, and so far I’ve settled on the timeline of 2005-2010 range. This is gonna sound crazy but I want it to make sense for Ravage to be emo(and crying over Black Parade) as well as the lack of cell phones besides flip phones or somethingS

As for the actual cat shelter, the entire facility is a converted two-bedroom house that got turned into the shelter. The driveway got turned into a parking lot and Whirl lives in the bush next to the entryway stairs. The shelter is almost at the edge of town where a forest and mountain range is, think Appalachian mountains-esque in nature. Winding roads, humid summers, snowy winters, unpredicable weather, that whole shebang.

Iacon city itself is a medium sized valley city with many stray cat colonies, and their animal control takes themselves very seriously, not just for the sake of the cats but to preserve the native biodiversity. However, the decepticats put up a large fight.

I’m trying to figure out what kind of car Rung would drive, since he would need one to get around town. I’m thinking a car like this👇 1967 Mini Cooper, but more orange and run down obv. A stupidly old car to have even in the 2000s, but for some reason it’s a very reliable car for Rung.

Orion Pax would probably be riding in a pickup truck of sorts, it doesn’t really make sense for a guy to be riding around town in a big rig. I’d say 2004 Chevy Silverado. I’m still in the process of figuring out what his actual job would be. Maybe a firefighter? Someone who works with Animal Control enough to know both Rung and Prowl.

In regards to Ravage I wanted to give them more accessories bc they’re emo, but if you’ve worked with animals then you know that any bracelets or necklaces can be a hazard. So for the sake of the kitties, Ravage dresses more casual. Also for those who keep commenting that he looks like an Uchiha from Naruto… yeah….

It’s hard to figure out who to make human characters vs who to make cats. I want Overlord to be a human character, but I’m still on the fence about the DJD and the Scavengers.

When it comes to how much the AU follows the original MTMTE comics, I’m at a point where it’s 50% following and 50% me making up my own plots. Overlord being human doesn’t make sense when Megatron is a cat, but here we are.

If Ambulon joins the au I want him to have a patchy coat, a little half bald goober.

I don’t want the au to be 100% realistic, otherwise that would be BORING. If the AU was 100% realistic then the plot would just follow Rung doing a stupid amount of paperwork and vet financing.

I think it’s really funny when people comment “I’LL ADOPT THEM!!!!” On my art bc it reminds me of how some animals who are perfectly nice sit in shelters for YEARS but when they go viral theyre adopted in 10 seconds flat. Fort Max is too big to be adopted in Iacon, gets adopted by random person from Arkansas.

I love angst as much as the next guy but trust there shall be hella comfort at the end of this h/c train.

I figured I’ll end this off with the very first drawing I made of the captain trio as cats, which promptly bloomed into the full LL Cat Shelter AU. Oh how far we have come.

[chanelrolls]

PART V. caleb's series

n. it's advisable to read all parts of the series. cw: pseudocest

“the paper crown”

you, 10 | caleb, 12

there was a school fair that saturday, and caleb had been planning it for weeks. he and the boys were finally old enough to enter the mini football scrimmage - there was a whole bracket, shiny trophies, names scribbled proudly on a board, and even coach had said he was rooting for caleb’s team. he was stoked. no, more than that. he was ready.

they’d been training for it all month, and this time, caleb wasn’t just one of the players. he was team captain.

but he hadn’t expected you to knock on his door that morning, wearing your little sky-blue dress with the poofy sleeves, your hair pinned back with mismatched butterfly clips, and cheeks a little pink from excitement, holding a wrinkled paper crown in both hands like it was something sacred.

“you said you'd be my king for the royal booth,” you beamed, eyes hopeful. “remember?”

caleb blinked, still half-distracted, jersey half tucked in, with football cleats untied on the floor behind him. “what’s the royal booth?”

“i’m princess of class 3B today,” you explained, fingers squeezing the paper crown tighter. “i picked you to sit beside me. we get to give people candy rings and glitter tattoos and stuff…”

he just stood there in the doorway, still caught between the noise of the world he was rushing into and the quiet promise he’d forgotten.

oh.

oh, no.

he had said that, he remembered now. two weeks ago, the two of you were sprawled across the living room rug, surrounded by crayons and juice boxes, when you’d whispered that your class was doing a royalty booth. you needed a king. and you hated liars and sweaty boys, so you were only picking one person - him.

he’d laughed, flicked your forehead lightly, and said, “sure, your majesty.”

he thought maybe you’d forget.

but you hadn’t.

and now you were turning away, shoulders curled inward, the crown drooping in your grip. “you’re busy,” you murmured. “it’s okay.”

his eyes dropped to the crown. the paper was bent, cut unevenly with scissors that clearly didn’t want to cooperate. someone had gone over it with pink highlighter and glued on sparkly bits that clung like dust. it was messy and heartfelt and so completely you.

something in his chest tugged.

“…give me five minutes.”

———

the football team didn’t take it well.

“you’re ditching us? for a booth? caleb, seriously?”

he didn’t answer. just took off his cleats, tossed his jersey into his locker, and ran like his life depended on it.

he showed up at the fairgrounds panting, shirt wrinkled, hair a wild mess, sneakers mismatched because he’d grabbed the wrong pair. but he scanned the crowd until he saw you, perched on a tiny pink stool beneath a cardboard castle sign, alone, your glitter box open in front of you, poking at a roll of sticker hearts.

you looked up. your face lit up slowly, cautiously. “…you came,” you whispered, as if you weren’t sure if he was real.

he dropped into the seat beside you, breathless. “told you i would.”

you blinked at him for a second before grinning wide enough to crinkle your eyes, and you carefully placed the paper crown on his head like you were bestowing something priceless. you even patted it into place.

“you’re my king now,” you declared proudly, voice full of ceremony.

he smiled crookedly, pointing to the box of jelly rings. “then i order you to hand over ten of those. minimum.”

you giggled, shoving the box toward him, fingers brushing.

the rest of the morning passed like a dream. he sat beside you while you handed out glittery candy and let hyper kids draw uneven stars on his cheek with face paint markers. he didn’t even flinch when you stuck sparkly heart stickers all over his shirt. he just rolled his eyes and let you, grinning each time you laughed. the booth was noisy, bright, chaotic, and warm. but he didn’t leave. not once.

by noon, the sun had climbed high, casting long shadows and melting the glitter in your hair. the crowd had trickled down. caleb was resting his chin in his palm, one eye closed in mock exhaustion.

“why’d you come?” you asked suddenly, like it’d been sitting on your tongue all morning.

he opened the other eye and looked at you. you were swinging your legs under the table, cheeks sticky with sugar, the edge of your crown flopping slightly over one ear.

you didn’t look like a princess. not really.

you looked more like a gremlin.

he shrugged, slow and sincere. “i wanted to.”

“…more than the game?” you pressed, squinting at him.

he didn’t answer right away. just let the question float for a moment.

then finally: “yeah.”

you blinked, surprised. like maybe you hadn’t expected that answer. then slowly, slowly, your face cracked into a smile so wide it made your nose scrunch and your eyes gleam.

years later, caleb wouldn’t remember who won that scrimmage. he wouldn’t remember the final score, or even who they were up against. it all blurred in his mind like background noise.

but he would remember you leaning against him that afternoon, your head tucked beneath his chin, legs tired from sitting too long. he would remember the feel of glitter dust on your fingers and your soft humming as the day slowed. he would remember the crown, slightly torn, a little crooked on his head, pressing into his temple.

and how, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t care about anything else.

not really.

not when it came to you.

[moralesmilesanhour]

teamwork (makes the dream work...?) pt. 3

summary: a big project is announced in class, meaning you and miles need to get your shit together. and other stuff.

wc: ~2k (I know.)

warnings: very briefly implied neglect...?

A/N: I struggled a lot w this one but I kinda got my flow back at the end! enjoy :)

prev. miles' pov snippet next

By now, there were three things that you had never seen Miles Morales do:

Work with a partner, say ‘hello’ first, and eat lunch in the cafeteria.

The first thing was about to change in the next forty-five minutes or so. 

The third, you’d soon figure out as you crept quietly up the staircase that led to the rooftop. You had planned to convince the boy to actually cooperate with you in Calculus, offering to do his English homework in exchange. 

As soon as you reach the top of the stairwell, though, all thoughts of negotiation leave you. Your eyes land on Miles’ heaving figure, and you realize that there's a fourth thing you’d never seen him do: cry.

The only sound that could be heard was the whistling of wind and the small, whimpering sounds that it carried with it. He didn’t seem to have a bag or tray of food with him. It unnerved you to try to imagine what could make a boy that tall shrivel up like that.

You didn’t say anything (what could you say?), slowly stepping back down the stairwell.  While your back was turned, Miles peeked through his elbows and caught a glimpse of your retreating sneakers. He didn’t come downstairs until the bell rang.

You sat down at your not-by-the-window seat. Miles had arrived earlier than you as usual, but his head was down, seemingly asleep. 

The case holding his glasses sat unopened. As usual.

“Today, you all will begin to brainstorm for your partnered projects,” Ms. Jones beamed, clapping her hands together.

Miles’ head suddenly perked up. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost, while you chewed on your pencil’s eraser absentmindedly. There was no way Jones was about to pair you up with a temporary partner–

“...and I’ve switched some of the pairings to account for those who are unable to join us this week.” The woman made direct eye contact with you as she finished the sentence, and your stomach dropped.

 “Everyone will be partnered with the scholar sitting next to them.”

Small cheers and celebratory squeals erupted across the classroom. You look at Miles, who still has rings of red around his puffy eyes. He glances at you before turning away to fake-stare out of the window. 

Jones continues, “Your AP Physics teacher and I have decided to combine our projects into one prompt, meaning that the instructions are two-fold. In Physics, as you already know, you will be writing a lab report based on the experiments y’all have been doing all of last week. In my class, you’ll also come up with three short calculus problems based on real-life scenarios--”

The woman paused at the wave of groans and sighs, and shook her head.

 “--based on what you have learned, both here and in Physics. You will present at least one of them in class for your own mini-lessons. Any questions?”

The classroom was silent as she quickly scanned the room,

“Well, alright, then! I need someone to pass around these brainstorming sheets.”

Miles had a frown on his face for the entirety of Ms. Jones’ spiel, arms crossed like a toddler. You would’ve found it funny if you weren’t currently in the same boat.

Two sheets of paper landed on your desk, and you passed one to him.

“Any ideas, Morales?” 

“Not in an ‘ideas’ mood at the moment,” the boy muttered, massaging his temples.

You rest your chin on the backs of your hands and sigh.

“Fair enough.”

Another awkward silence. You began to jot down a few topics for math problems: projectiles, the speed of a vehicle, but your pen eventually slowed to a stop out of boredom. Had your friend been here, she would’ve filled the silence with lively conversation about the news, P.E., or Ms. Jones’ outfit. 

“Why don't you like working with people?” you ask, suddenly. Miles cut his eyes at you.

“ ‘Cuz of questions like that.”

“What if I’m just tryna make conversation?”

“About what?”

“Well, whatever’s on your mind,” you gesture towards the open spiral notebook next to him full of sketches. He hasn’t added anything new to it all class. “Must be something happening up there.”

The boy’s eyes flickered toward the page. You’d already seen it, so there was no point in shutting the notebook closed.

“I don’t see what’s so interesting about these.”

You tilted your head to see the drawings better. Some of the figures leaping across the page looked vaguely familiar; some from action movies, others from anime, judging by the hair.

“I like your art style. It’s so…” you stare up at the ceiling, lips jutting out as you try to find the right word. “...Knife-y.”

The corners of Miles’ lips quiver, and an unusual sound suddenly escapes him. His hand flies up to cover his mouth, and his shoulders shake as he briefly turns away.

“My fault,” he says, turning back around after clearing his throat. “You said it’s what?”

The sound of his stifled laughter makes you giggle despite being the subject of it.

“It’s sharp and pointy, okay? That’s what I meant.” 

At this point, both of you are struggling to keep a straight face at the back of the classroom.

“Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Listen, I forget words a lot. Gimme a break!”

Miles wipes a tear away, “Yeah, I ain’t never letting you forget that one.”

“Okay, back to the drawings, though. Who’s that?” you pointed at a sketch of the caped figure with sharp eyes from before. A shadow fell over the boy’s expression.

“Nobody important. Just sumn I made up.”

You hum in acknowledgement, drumming your fingers on the desk.

“One more question, then I’ll leave you alone. Why don’t you eat downstairs with everyone else?”

“It’s too loud down there, so I eat in the counselor’s office,” he answered.

Miles narrowed his eyes. “Now, can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“How’d you know I don’t eat downstairs?”

He knew the answer, of course. But he wanted to know if you’d lie.

You nibbled at your bottom lip, staring at the solid lines on your worksheet.

“I…may or may not have seen you. Upstairs.”

Miles nodded slowly, silently. As if he was considering something.

��You was looking for me?”

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to…interrupt,” you look up and meet the boy’s eyes. “Did you get to eat lunch, though?”

He gave you a weird look. “What’s that gotta do with you stalking me?”

Crossing your arms defensively, you shot back, “You were so damn worried about whether I ate, why can’t I return the favor?”

Miles’ eyes widened for a moment, before darting in the other direction. “I think you should go back to doing your work.”

Just as he finished his sentence, the school bell rang. Miles was already standing with his bag slung over his shoulder.

As you gather your stuff, you call out, “Wait! I need your email for this project, I forgot.”

“Right,” Miles ripped out a sheet of paper from his notebook, scribbling his email address on it before handing it to you. “I’ll share my slides with you when I’m done.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. 

“I thought you weren’t in an ‘ideas’ mood, today.”

The boy shrugged as he pulled the back door open with his free arm, stopping it with his foot. “I am now. We’re getting graded as a group.”

-

The two of you had decided to reconvene just outside the basketball court after the final bell of the day.

“You already decided to take over the slides, lemme at least present!”

“Nope. Not riskin’ it.”

You groaned, pacing around as Miles leaned on the chain link fence.

“I’m literally good at public speaking, what ‘risk’?”

“You,” Miles pointed, “are an entire letter grade below me in English. Why should I believe you?”

“I am on the mock trial team, bro.”

He raised a challenging eyebrow. “You any good at it, though?”

You scoffed, “Of course I am!”

“Prove it. Gimme a closing speech right now.”

A deep sigh left you, but you did happen to have a speech on-hand that you had won with last season. You moved to stand in front of Miles as if he were a jury member, and cleared your throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” you began, “in today’s trial, we have clearly laid out the facts of this case…”

By the time your speech was over, the court was empty and quiet. Miles nodded slowly, a smile spreading across his features. Your voice took on a sharp precision and clarity that he hadn’t gotten to hear in the couple days he’d known you.

“Shit, maybe that nigga is innocent,” he said beneath a laugh. “Alright.”

“You gonna let me present?” you perked up.

“Yeah, you convinced me. My bad,” the boy stuck out his hand.

You rolled your eyes, and shook it.

“Yeah, your bad.”

Suddenly, your hand flew over your mouth when you recalled something.

“Oh, shit, I gotta stay after and do my readings.”

“Stay…after?” Miles repeated. “There’s no office hours today.”

“I know,” you shrugged, “I just sorta hang out around here to do my homework till it gets too dark.”

The boy’s face was a picture of disbelief.

“Why don’t you just do it at home?”

“Too noisy. Can’t focus.”

Miles stared at the ground, looking deep in thought. He got off of the fence.

“Look, do you wanna study at mine? If your parents let you, I mean.”

“Don’t need to ask ‘em. Long as I’m home before midnight,” you replied.

Miles shook his head, but said nothing as he took out his phone and began to dial a number.

“Hello? Hi, mami. ¿Puedo estudiar con un compañero de clase?”

He paused for a second to wait for a reply.

“Sí, es la misma chica. M-hm. Love you, bye.”

“She said yes?”

Miles nodded, then gestured to get you to follow him. “Yup, ‘till ten.”

You hummed thoughtfully as the two of you began walking.

“I like your Spanish. It sounds better than Ms. Sanchez’s,” you remarked.

“ ‘My Spanish’?” Miles looked back at you briefly, eyes narrowed. “What does that even mean?”

“It just sounds nice.”

“You’re weird. Walk faster.”

-

“Can you even see without those?”

You pointed towards the brown case sitting on the small desk by Miles’ laptop as he typed away.

“I’ve seen enough,” he replied, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. The soft ‘thud’ of the case shutting reverberated across the quiet bedroom.

“I wouldn’t wear ‘em, if I was you. Fuck up your eyesight.”

“Too late,” you chirped. The case contained a pair of green, rectangular prescription glasses. The lenses were still clean from their utter lack of use. Of course, you couldn’t see a thing through them.

“Damn, you blind as fuck!”

This earned a snort from Miles. He paused his rapid typing and turned around to see you sprawled out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling through his glasses.

“Bro, do your homework,” he laughed. “Did you even start?”

You looked over at the small paperback novel laying by your head. 

“Maybe,” you said with a grunt, propping yourself up on your elbows. “How many chapters we got?”

“Just two.”

“Just?”

“I finished the book yesterday, you’ll be a’ight,” Miles said as he turned back to his laptop.

“Of course yo’ ass already finished the damn–Who’s point of view is this?” you asked, squinting at the paragraph you had left off on.

“Minerva’s, we in part two now.”

“Thanks.”

You sat in a comfortable silence for the next few hours, and you had read the assigned chapters before you knew it. The time on your phone read ‘9:01pm’ when you checked it. You heard Miles shut his laptop.

“A’ight, you gotta get up outta here. My ma said she gonna drop you off before work, that okay?”

“So soon?” you joked, sitting upright.

“Yeah, you need to dip. What if I had a girl over and she saw yo ass lying on my bed?”

“Alright, Mr. Bitches, I’m gone,” you hopped to your feet. “Lemme get my shoes first.”

Miles rose from his swivel chair and stretched.

“Damn right, I am.”

“Whatever you say, Morales.”

-

I don’t think I’ve ever written this many elipses and italics in my life. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoyed this longer-than-usual chapter. I’ll be uploading a bonus snippet that I cut out of this chapter this coming week, so look out for that ;)

thanks for reading!

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[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chpr 12

⚠️ Trigger Warning for angst

👨‍🏫💙🩵❤️🩷

"Oh m-my!"

"S-SCOTT!"

Brains sprinted from Two's runway towards the wreckage of One.

His gut twisted slightly to see the rocket in such a state. Not so much for the work it would take to rebuild her; it was more that the rockets were a part of International Rescue. Without them, countless families around the world would have suffered immeasurable loss; the planet owed a lot to these machines.

He shoved the thought to the back of his mind.

Metal can always be replaced, lives cannot.

His mother had instilled that mantra in him when he pranged the family car shortly after passing his driving test. Hiram hadn't been one for operating machines much after that, but he was still fascinated by the science behind them - especially rockets. To him, they were art - mathematical calculations brought to life.

Vessels of potential.

His mind hadn't calculated how he would get to Scott in order to help him. This crash was somewhat more than the broken headlight he'd caused the Mini Cooper to have. But Scott was family.

And for family, he would do whatever it took; even at the cost of his own life.

"S-SCOTT!"

"It's okay Brains - I've got him!"

Kayo leaned out from the cockpit.

"I have him on a board. As soon as we get a second jetpack up here, we can evac."

"FAb-B"

"As far as I know, the others are still inside."

"I will try to c-calculate the s-safest route."

"Eurrrrggh. Tell them to 'urry up. Board's-urting m'back." Scott's voice rasped from behind Kayo.

"They're not really designed for comfort."

"Y'tellin' me.'

"KAYO?"

A distant voice called out from somewhere within the villa."

"Is t-that A-Alan?"

"ALAN?"

"YEAH!"

Oh thank God, he's alive.

"YOU OKAY?"

"M'HOLDIN ON. UNINJURED...BUT COULD REALLY DO WITH A HAND."

"Hear that Scott? Alan's okay. John's down from orbit. Penelope and the rest of Phoenix are on their way. It's all gonna be okay!" Kayo wasn't sure who her words were intended for more.

"HANG ON ALAN, HELP'S COMING!"

"LOVIN' THE CHOICE OF WORDS KAY."

*. *. *.

The sun bounced from a familiar smudge of pink, drawing Brain's eyes skywards.

"F-FAB W-ONE!"

[vfx-batman]

Dick Grayson

Hi!! Thanks for the ask. I’ve read far too many comics featuring Mr Dickie G himself not to love this guy, but I find my perception differs considerably from other DC/Titans/Batman fandom-goers who like him, so if nothing else, this should be interesting 😅.

Answers under the read more b/c I’m incapable of being concise ^_^.

How I feel about this character: I like him!! Very, very interesting guy who’s kind of bad at forming/maintaining deep inter-personal connections with his loved ones (thinking about how he was still uncertain about Raven around a decade into the NTT run). He’s the guy everyone knows but doesn’t know, b/c he always keeps a core part of himself closed off. Very, very interesting guy who prides himself on being the #1 employee at all times. No matter the job, he is locked in. No matter how good at this job he is, no matter how much he transcends mortal limits, it is never enough to satisfy him. He will never be at peace with this dissatisfaction. I find this fascinating.

I wrote a mini essay here on DG’s identity issues since the 60s, but to spare you that I’ll just say although DG obviously cares about his loved ones, I believe the primary wrench he throws into his relationships time + time again comes from his self-conception as the model law-enforcer. As well as how he’ll always subordinate these loved ones to the task of appeasing the Batman who lives in his head. This Batman is not necessarily Bruce, but the idealised mission with which Batman is interchangeable to DG’s mind. From here comes the thrust of his disappointment in the guy when he doesn’t live up to DG’s expectations (e.g. Bruce Wayne Murderer/Fugitive; or even more recently, Gotham War). And when DG went through his greatest period of anti-Bruce rebellion in the 80s, he still worried about what Bruce would think + sought to uphold the beliefs which he formulated at Batman’s side: from his anti-interpersonal-killing stance to his emphasis on respecting/cooperating with state authorities. This, for one, seriously affects his relationship with Kory—amongst others.

And on the subject of Kory.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Miss Koriand’r <3. I’m obsessed with how their attraction + love for one another contends with their different moral values, asking genuine questions of how far two people can settle down with each other if they have overlapping but divergent moral compasses. They have so many similarities (e.g. parental devotion + idolisation of freedom) + this makes their differences all the more compelling. Endgame to me.

Aside from that, I like 1997-2004 Dickbabs. Specifically with the implicit authorial understanding that they’re both using the other to re-live an idealised image of themselves. E.G. Dick picks the mature woman who’s even more of a stickler for Batman’s ethics than Batman, a woman whose presence enables him to reminisce on his Robin days. Meanwhile Babs holds off his advances at least in part b/c she’s afraid that his presence will cause her to relive her Batgirl days. Which he eventually does, + she luxuriates briefly in that feeling before getting defensive about how she’s changed + pulling back.

This is a truly interesting relationship dynamic, which is why I find all the post-2004 Dickbabs so lacklustre. Though I dislike how Devin broke them up, I do think their mutual fantasies/fear of fantasies + lack of commitment to spending time together outside of work had them set on a collision course with a count-down. It would have been up to them to decide whether the shared moral compass was enough to sustain a relationship where they showed infrequent desire to interact outside of professional spaces. Very reflective of how they both showed no interest in separating their personal ID (DG, BG) from their hero monikers (Nightwing, Oracle). Still not very durable as a relationship foundation.

Besides DG’s main two ships which I enjoy in different ways, I’d have to say Clancy was an interesting character, but I have yet to be convinced by any of Dick’s other romances. He’s had a lot, sometimes at the same time, + none of them have interested me in the slightest. Chiefly b/c it doesn’t feel like any of them have been designed to probe at deeper character questions for both people involved, or dig into real dilemmas when it comes to love. And that bores me.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I like Donna & Dick, but I’m not as enthusiastic about them as others, so I’ll have to say Dick & Bruce. Dick & Jason and Dick & Cass likewise are fascinating relationships from the snippets we’ve seen in canon, but I have a very specific interpretation of them both. I’ll get around to writing more fics about them someday + expand my thoughts there!

My unpopular opinion about this character: I think my opening passage will be unpopular enough, but my real unpopular opinion is that he’s straight. I respect bisexual DG believers, I truly do <3, but I haven’t read anything in canon that suggests he isn’t straight so I can’t see it myself. 85 years of appearances, 0 convincing homoerotic relationships, 0 chemistry with men. By contrast, Bruce, Babs, + Cass all have enough going on for me to see them as bi. So I do. Of course, I’d have no reason to complain if DC were to change this up + make him canonically bi. I’m just referring to that material published so far as of late June 2025.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Currently -> I wish canon doubled down on emphasising Dick’s age gap with his siblings. With arrows representing a relative velocity of years: (<- that was left over from a previous draft). Dick = 7 years older than Cass who’s 2 years older than Tim who’s 1 year older than Jason (I don’t count his corpse/coma/catatonic years) who’s 6 years older than Damian. This guy is 30 + I wish his current stories recognised it more instead of pretending like he’s still 24 or whatever. What I wish had changed in canon -> As much as I like her writing style, I wish Devin had never demolished his unique supporting cast in her run. This decision to deconstruct DG by destroying his environment before moving him elsewhere left him in a tragic tailspin from the mid-2000s onwards. It’s from here that people got it in their minds that his best narrative role was as Bruce’s true successor.

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

What a difference 58 years makes juxtaposition of Austin 1100/1300 Countryman, 1966 & Mini Countryman SE ALL4, 2024. The ADO 16 used the same (for the period) innovative transverse engine front wheel drive configuration as the Mini but sat a class above, while the contemporary Countryman is a crossover positioned above the Mini Cooper. The new 3rd generation Mini Countryman will be available with both internal combustion and all-electric powertrains. The all-electric Countryman is offered in two performance levels – E and SE ALL4 with, the combustion powered Countryman available in three levels – C, S ALL4 and JCW ALL4 models with first deliveries in February 2024.

[scientistswishingwell]

Thoughts about lichens, extraterrestrial fertilization, and my “leftovers” cookies.

Leftovers Cookies, without the leftovers. Originally made because I had leftover cookie batter from two types of cookies. Now I do it on purpose. Tastes like not being able to decide between cookies and brownies and getting both.

Ingredients:

2 1/4 c. flour

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

1 c. butter

3/4 c. granulated sugar

3/4 c. packed dark brown sugar

1 1/2 tsp vanilla

2 eggs

2 cups chocolate chips (I find I like to do 1 c. Mini and 1 c. Regular or chocolate chunks but I’m not gonna tell you what to do)

1/2 c. Dutch process cocoa.

Instructions

Mix all the ingredients except the cocoa. Split the dough in half and refrigerate one half. Add the cocoa to the remaining half. Refrigerate the cocoa half. Sorry, but the refrigeration is important. No slacking here. You can make the dough and refrigerate overnight, or make it in the afternoon and have fresh cookies after dinner. But you do gotta wait.

Once the cookie dough has cooled enough to be firm, preheat the oven to 375F. take some of each type of dough and mush them together a little bit into a ball about 1 inch in diameter. Don’t totally mix them. Place on a baking sheet with parchment or some other nonstick element. Bake for 9-11 minutes, depending on how gooey or crispy you like.

If you’re feeling really fancy, dust them with any of the following: coarse ground sea salt, flaked finishing salt, cocoa powder, coarse sugar for sprinkling, etc. If you are someone who likes nuts in your cookies, first of all, why, and second of all, you can use 1 cup of chopped nuts.

Okay, onto my baking thoughts. Hear me out.

Extraterrestrial fertilization, the idea that life originated in some other place in the universe, and was carried to earth by some kind of comet or something, is a really fun idea, but my least favorite theory for a few basic reasons. One, it seems so incredibly unlikely. And two, it really just passes the buck to another planet. How did they get life to pass on to us? It has to have originate somewhere.

That being said, my latest obsession with lichens led me to this hypothesis. It’s a little gushier than the average hypothesis, but I’m hoping you forgive a girl for putting poetry in her science now and then.

Bear with me, and imagine this:

A lichenous body is transported from unfathomable distances away via a meteor, comet, or a bit of exploded planet. It survives this voyage by being nice and cozy within its intergalactic shuttle, just enough so that the following things occur:

1. The organism is *mostly* but not entirely protected by the rocky body it is carried on

2. Since no self-respecting organism would attempt to do anything but keep the metaphorical lights on in this situation, the lichenous body goes into hibernation. This will have to involve an abrupt stop of cellular function, made possible by the freezing vacuum of space, for most of the critter, but enough time for a portion of the organism to create endospores. The endospores function as essentially a little package of nucleic genetic information wrapped up in as much of a bunker as the cell can build before it dies. Best case, the cell body remains intact, making an extra layer of protection for our little nucleic acid package.

2.a. The endospores formed by the cells are bare-bones. Basically, they ONLY have enough information to keep the lights on.

3. The rocky body, by some miracle, crashes into earth. It is solid enough so that it does not burn up entirely on entry, but small enough that it does break up a bit, freeing our extraterrestrial samples. Best case, it lands in the ocean, or some other deep body of water, so that it can cool down a bit.

4. The endospores “hatch” upon reaching a vaguely habitable environment. The endospores develop into bare-bones cells. They no longer know how to cooperate with another organism, but if they could be, they would be grateful for the sacrifice of their interstellar crewmate. Possessing essentially only nucleic acids (probably ssRNA or a precursor), all these cells know is Eat Hot Chip and Replicate.

5. A couple million years later, we have a bunch of cells that have figured out how to do things other than replicate. They have adapted to many environments and now want to start doing cool shit but don’t know how yet. One of the cells engulfs a smaller cells and saves it for later, in a membrane pocket. The big cell forgets about the tiny cell, and the tiny cell continues doing its own thing. The tiny cell realizes this is kind of cool, being protected, and starts sharing with the big cell. The big cell appreciates this, and decides not to eat the little cell. It even gives the little cell some extra generic information, just to hold on to. An ancient, evolutionary memory is unlocked of cooperation for the sake of not just surviving, but thriving.

6. The world’s first eukaryotic cell replicates. Mitochondria and chloroplasts are born, and those without them figure out other ways to cooperate to build micro communities. Micro communities become organisms, or blobs of goo, or microbial mats, or gardens. The cells all remember what they used to be before they got here.

[sweetness-pop]

Hiya! 💗💋🍓🌸Sweetness*POP🌈🍭💀🌟 here!

Yosh, so get ready for an idea on the main attires that are worn by Sony's 3 PlayStation-exclusive crossover femme fatales known as PlayStation Venus 3: Talwyn Apogee (Ratchet & Clank), Keira Hagai (Jak & Daxter), and Carmelita Fox (Sly Cooper)!

Imagine in my PSV3 idea, Talwyn, Keira and Carmelita are wearing different outfits instead of their usual attire from their franchises. However, they'd still be in their main colors from their game appearances.

Plus, these ideal battle outfits would be so BEAUTIFUL, BADASS, DANGEROUS and SEXY that they would make the naturally slender and well-endowed/voluptuous bodies of Talwyn Apogee, Keira Hagai and Carmelita Fox stand out in a good and hot, but dangerously tempting way.... (Anime sound effect: OH YEAH)

Here is how I would always vision their femme fatale outfits in PSV3 (I HOPE this ideal PlayStation crossover game will happen someday in the future):

First, Talwyn Apogee:

.Her shoulder-length brown hair is down and straightened, and on her right side comes a side braid tied with a red band that has a small metal gear as an accessory. For the first time, she is not wearing her signature red headband.

·Tal has cherry red lipstick on.

·She has tiny yellow gold hoop earrings that has a star opal (asterism gem).

·A green halter bandana crop top with a chest keyhole that has 6 metallic silver straps shaping like an X except with 2 extra horizontal lines.

·Her red scarf is still around her neck.

·Black mini shorts that are accompanied by a red band wrapped around her waist, which happens to be the exact red band that she would wear on her head in her R&C game/comic appearances. This could confirm that Tal can either wear her signature red band not only around her head, but also around her waist like wrap belt.

·Long black chaps around her shorts.

·Brown belt with small silver studs and a silver buckle that is her Apogee crest symbol.

·Dark green gloves

·Green arm gauntlets that are pointy on both her forearm and wrist parts.

·Red forearm bands that have metallic center parts that has the Apogee logo on.

·Light brown boots reaching her knees.

·Pierced navel/belly button with a ringless saturn bead.

·And Talwyn has a tattoo on her lower back being exposed. It's a black lombax head symbol.

Second, Keira Hagai:

·She still has her short blue and green hairstyle.

·Keira has neon red lipstick on.

·Little black hoop earrings with platinum studs.

·A sleeveless white-tinted lavender crop top with a red notched collar and 5 red buttons.

·Purple half cargo pants on her left side and half shorts on her right side that are cuffed pink. (You know, a combination of half-pants/half-shorts)

·A golden chain belt that has teal tourmaline cabochon beads around her half-pants/half-shorts.

·Red short boots with black straps.

·Black thigh high sock only worn on her right leg since her right side is were her half-shorts are.

·Red gloves with platinum studs on her knuckles.

·Black arm warmers all the way to her elbows.

·She still has her purple choker, as well as her signature blue goggles around her neck.

·And a pierced navel with Keira's belly ring being a turquoise sage orb.

And finally, third, Carmelita Fox:

·Her long, wavy dark blue hair with the end tied in her gold-like colored hair tie.

·Carmelita's lipstick is in a deep dark red shade.

·She's wearing small bronze hoop earrings. (However, unlike in all her Sly appearances, in PSV3, she's wearing earrings on both ears instead of just on the left.)

·Dark blue sleeveless and collared crop bulletproof vest that has a dark golden zipper on the front, and a dark blue wrap around her waist shaping like an X on the front.

·Dark blue pants with cut-outs on the hips.

·Dark yellow leather belt around her pants.

·Black calf-high combat boots.

·Golden-yellow gloves.

·Reddish-brown medium-sized criss-cross forearm bands.

·Like Talwyn and Keira, Carmelita also has a pierced belly button, and her navel ring is a shiny light grey Tahitian pearl.

·And of course, Carmelita the Inspector has her yellow signature INTERPOL star badge hanging as the pendant around her neck.

But when it is time for the FINAL BOSS aka FINAL SHOWDOWN, this will be their outfits:

This is the link.

Well, what do you all think about these outfit ideas for Talwyn Apogee of Ratchet & Clank, Keira Hagai of Jak & Daxter and Carmelita Fox of Sly Cooper to wear in PlayStation Venus 3?!

Out of all these 3 PSV3 outfits, who's would be your favorite? Talwyn's? Keira's? Or Carmelita's

I would love to read your thoughts and comments.

As always, please feel free to share what you think!

Thank you for reading!

[blackstarmylove]

Which Car Suits Them 2 (Pic HC)

Fandom: Blackstar Theater Starless

Pairing: None. Featuring P, C, B, Unei

Warning: None

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: What kind of sports car do you think suits each cast member? (and if it's not too much trouble,could we have pictures?)

A/N: Anon, how did you know I love sports cars? 😍

---

Things I took into account:

Their style and personality

Whether they like luxury or prefer simplicity

Whether they like cute or sophisticated or mature things (and what style I think suits them)

———————————————

Rindou

Audi R8

Maica

McLaren 720S

Sinju

Mazda Miata

Nekome

Mercedes Benz AMG GT

Menou

Jaguar F-Type

Mokuren

Aston Martin Vantage Coupe

Qu

Porsche 718 Boxter Style Edition

Kasumi

BMW Z4

Hari

Koenigsegg Gemera

Zakuro

Lamborghini Gallardo

Aogiri

Audi TT

Mizuki

Chevy Camero

Kongou

Porsche 718 Cayman

Good luck fitting in this car, Kongou. XD

Ran

Zenvo TS1 GT

Rico

Ferrari Roma

Heath

Dodge Charger

Hinata

Lotus Evora

Unei

Mini Cooper Convertible

———————————————

➣ BlackStar Theater Starless Masterlists [1][2][3][4]

➣ Main Masterlist

➣ Buy me a Ko-fi? ➣ Commission: Open  ➣ HC/Scenario Requests: Closed || Quick Ask Requests: Closed || GIF Requests: Closed

[jasonryudotnet]

[새 차] 최신 스타일, 5도어의 편의성, 부담 적은 가격 - 뉴 미니 쿠퍼 C 5도어

미니 코리아가 뉴 미니 쿠퍼 C 5도어(New MINI Cooper C 5-door)를 공식 출시했습니다. 뉴 미니 쿠퍼 C 5도어 (사진은 국내 판매 모델과 다를 수 있음) 4세대 미니 해치백 5도어(F65) 내연기관 모델은 2024년 10월에 쿠퍼 S 5도어가 가장 먼저 우리나라에 들어왔고, 이번에 출력이 낮은 엔진을 얹고 각종 기능 및 편의 항목을 간소화한 쿠퍼 C 5도어가 출시되었습니다. 판매 트림은 2024년 9월부터 판매 중인 쿠퍼 C 3도어와 마찬가지로 에센셜(Essential)과 클래식(Classic) 두 가지입니다. 쿠퍼 C 5도어는 쿠퍼 C 3도어 모델보다 휠베이스는 70mm 길고 차체는 160mm 깁니다. 높이는 15mm 높고요. 길어진 휠베이스만큼 뒷좌석 공간도 3도어 모델보다…

[thedeluluverse]

WELCOME PART 1 (finally) !!!

Author’s Note: So happy to finally get this out there! BIGGEST thanks to my bestie @starfire21, as this is mainly her baby; I just wrote it down, hehe. I hope y’all like it, and please let me know what y’all think! Part 2 will be coming soon; don’t worry. Until next time, lovelies! <3

Summary: A talented saber smith’s life changes forever when the Sith crosses her path as she attempts to reform the corrupt government she serves. Will they be a help or a hindrance?

Pairing:  Sith!Wooyoung x femjedi/sabersmith!Y/N. Other kpop idols in the story, but the main relationship is between Woo and Y/N.

Rating: 18+ (b/c language and also smut to be in pt. 2)

Genre:  angst, fantasy, kpop,

Word Count: 3,610

Warnings:  not too many for part 1, just some slight bullying, threatening, gay repressed pining

All Y/N wanted was to do her job and go back home. Sadly, fate had other plans. Being a sabersmith in Coruscant meant that you got plenty of business but also had to be kept in check.

This was ensured by showing up to the Council once a week and reporting how many sabers you sold or repaired to ensure that your shop was on the right side of politics. It was tiresome some days, but it was impossible to get around unless one wanted to risk losing their license.

Y/N was one of the only smiths who didn't mind this mandate; as it meant gaining intel from her friends Jihyo, Chaewon, and Somin was easier. The four of them were secret reformers with a dream to restore balance and equality by overthrowing the government.

In recent years, it had gone down a severely corrupt path wherein the citizens were overworked, underpaid, and overtaxed solely for the betterment of Council members’ lives.

Today was different than the usual visits to the Council for Y/N. While reporting as usual to Minghao, she was interrupted by the sudden presence of uncomfortable energies.

Their carriers, Winter, Wooyoung, and Hongjoong, were representatives from the Sith headquarters on behalf of Darth Bibi.

They had arrived in Coruscant for questioning as the Council had requested. The reason is that they were recently made aware of some odd happenings across the galaxy that fit their brand of chaos a little too well.

Looking visibly annoyed at the interruption and their cocky demeanor, you glare at the smug side profile of Wooyoung as his distinguished partner in training, Hongjoong, defends the accusations being hurled at the trio from each member of the Council.

Wooyoung moves a bit behind Hongjoong, and as he adjusts his footing, he catches Y/N’s disdainful expression. Looking aghast at her audacity, he mouths, "What is your problem?" Y/N responds with a shoulder shrug and feigns dissociation out the window.

The questioning wraps up, and Kai thanks them for their time and cooperation while permitting them to exit the Council hall. Yeosang picks up where Minghao left off and swiftly concludes Y/N's weekly session as the sun sets. With the recent uptick in random violent acts, a curfew was put in place, which meant everyone needed to get home quickly.

Exiting the hall, you speak into your communicator necklace and let Huyang know you are heading home. As you enter the elevator, you spot the Sith trio huddled in a corner, seemingly in a heated discussion.

Ignoring them, you enter the elevator and breathe a sigh of relief that you will be home soon. However, your peace doesn't last long as you hear a thud above you. Stealthily, you draw your pair of mini batons, staying alert in case of trouble.

Trouble ends up dropping into the elevator with you by the name of Wooyoung. Shoving the end of your baton into his razor-sharp jawline, you question, “What is with you? Couldn’t wait for the next car?”.

Simply chuckling and leaning aloofly on the wall, his reply shocks you. “Oh, it isn’t that; I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to make any trouble for me and my friends since I saw that you noticed our little pow-wow.”

Scoffing, she retorts, “I couldn’t care less about you and your hooligan friends. That’s between the Empress and the Council.”  “Hooligans? What are you, my great-grandmother?” he chortles.

 Rolling your eyes, you decide to ignore him as you are almost on the first floor. He hates that he didn’t get a reaction out of you, so he speaks his mind even more, "Well, we don't give a fuck about you either. In fact, it boggles my mind how the Council even stands by your lowly presence. You are nothing special, just a simple-minded saber smith who can’t even use a saber. So pathetic.”

Too taken aback by this stranger’s blatant insults to defend yourself, you stand there, fists balled up at your sides and full of rage, wanting to give him a taste of what you can do with your batons and staff.

Sadly, before you get the chance, the elevator dings, and he saunters out with that same annoying smug look, mockingly bidding you adieu as he rushes to catch up to his group.

You are confused about why his words affected you the entire way home. You spent years building up your reputation, never dreaming the path would lead to garnering the attention and trust of the Council, but here you are.

You went from just operating out of a measly tent to having several shops across the galaxy with the help of your droid mentor turned friend and co-manager, Huyang; you have made a respectable name for yourself. “To hell with that asshole! He doesn’t know me.” You think to yourself as you cross the threshold of your home shop.

Looking up from the dinner he was preparing, Huyang greets you with a fond "Hello there, Y/N! How’d  it go with the Council?” Scrunching up your face, you give a not-convincing “Fine, I guess,” as your pet mouse droid does laps around your ankles.

Not believing you but not daring to pry further before you have eaten, Huyang gives a half-hearted “Well, that’s good.” After dinner, you tell Huyang everything about the meeting, Sith intrusion, and your ambush elevator visit. He starts to giggle and has no intention of stopping even as you glare at him for seemingly not taking you seriously; “What is so goddamn funny, Yang?!”.

Composing himself, he answers, still fighting the urge to laugh, “Well, you see, young master, I have lived a long time and have seen this same song and dance many a time, which ends in the same manner.” Raising an eyebrow, it is apparent that you are thoroughly confused, “What in any of the galaxies are you insinuating?”

Allowing a giggle or two to slip out, he replies, “Oh nothing.... just more couples than I can count have started off ‘hating each other’ or ‘being annoying.’ Anyway, go get some rest while I clean up. We got a lot of orders in while you were gone today, so we have a busy day ahead of us, Y/N!” Looking mortified and too tired to tell him how wrong he is, you shuffle off to bed full and a little offended that Huyang would say such a thing about that scoundrel.

Meanwhile, back at the Sith training center, Bibi is giving Wooyoung a similarly hard time about his little drop-in. The only difference is he has a worse temper and has a bit to drink, so he ends up flipping the table they are dining at while Hongjoong is in his own world, expression unreadable, unlike Winter, whose face has been flushed, and the entire aura is radiating annoyance.

The next day, you are busier than you have been in weeks, thanks to the Council allowing you to finally post flyers about your services around the city. Finally getting a moment to scarf down the lunch Huyang packed you and have a relaxed seat, you hear the bell above the door indicating that you have a customer.

Contemplating ignoring them until they get fed up and leave only lasts a few seconds as your pride gets the best of you. Plus, you want to avoid getting a bad rap or losing a sale. Your breath hitches as soon as you see your patron, none other than the Sith lord in training from yesterday, Hongjoong.

Plastering on your best friendly smile and trying not to show how scared you are that trouble is imminent, you greet him, “Hello, Sir. How can my humble shop be of service to you?” Grinning eerily kindly, he tells you, “Oh, I’m not here on business, Ms. Y/N. Simply stopping by to apologize for the actions of my counterpart in the elevator yesterday. He is still young and foolish and hasn't the faintest idea of properly conducting oneself in a business setting yet. I hope he didn’t give you too much grief. Rest assured that your services are appreciated by both sides; you have immense talent, Y/N.”

Taken aback by his forethought and reassurance, you feel sure that the day's stress must be getting to you. Pinching yourself discreetly, you realize that this is a very real interaction and compose yourself so as not to seem rude. “Apologies, Sir Hongjoong, it has been a busy day, and I wasn’t prepared for such a kind visit. Thank you for stopping by; it’s good to know that someone else realizes what a petulant child that man is; if that is overstepping, I am sorry it just came out.”

Shaking his head, he assures you that no offense was taken and makes known his wish to maintain this business friendship. Halfheartedly agreeing, you see him out and reflect on what just happened. A Sith in training came all the way to your shop to apologize for his colleague's actions that he didn’t even witness. How did he know where to find you? Was Wooyoung talking about you? If he was, why? Was Huyang right? No way...

Being at a stopping point with your projects and feeling dizzy from the wide range of thoughts you were having, you decided to close up the shop for the day. Once you get home, have a quick snack, and shower, you are out like a light.

Over at the Sith camp, Hongjoong relays his visit and smiles differently, more than either of his training mates has seen before, as he stands at the head of the table. Wooyoung takes a break from sulking to whine at his senior, “Hyung, why would you do that? Now she is going to think I was talking about her or something. Plus, we have more pressing matters to tend to here at base camp."

Winter finally decides to join the conversation, "Yeah! Why did only you get to go see her? You should have brought me along at least...you know, for a female advantage."

Hongjoong starts cackling at this point, to the extent that he has to lean on the table for support. He calls out each of his colleagues, “First of all, Wooyoung, you did tell us about your little escapade. Meaning you were talking about her, in fact. I did it because you are too emotional and don’t know the art of strategy. See, if we get on her good side, or at least make her think we are, we can use her for intel or leverage, depending on her attitude.”

“ Now, Ms. Winter. You seem to be hurt that I didn’t require your presence today. I know you are eager to prove yourself to Bibi, and that is admirable, believe me. However, I left you behind because you were of no use. The situation needed a charismatic performance, which you so stunningly lack. I didn't need you weirdly gushing about how she braided her "pretty silver locks" and go and screw everything up with a female target. Again.”

The younger students look appalled, but shockingly, Winter speaks up first, "Well, that just isn't right. I could be an asset if you allowed me to redeem myself after last time. I know I got distracted by the target. But I've grown and won't allow personal feelings or desires to interfere. Isn't the fact that I was chosen for Empress training a plus and a testament to my abilities and potential?”

Lowering back into his plush chair, Hongjoong curtly gives a “No. It does not, and you are naïve if you think you were chosen for any reason other than your late uncle paid Bibi to take you under her wing. He hated going to his grave, not knowing if you would ever make anything of yourself. Now stop whining like a lovesick adolescent and get out of my sight.”

While she can keep the tears at bay behind her lash line, the quiver of her lip gives her away immediately. Wooyoung jumps at the chance to ridicule her. Still, Winter won't stand for any more shit-talking her way.

She shows him such a sentiment by holding her saber right above his wrist, attempting to intimidate him while holding him tightly by the back of his head as she verbally warns him to stop before he regrets it.

Deciding to play dirty, she reminds him, “The only reason that the Empress enlisted you into our troop was that you were on the verge of being publicly executed for your heinous crimes, and she got word of it, was impressed, and sent a team to collect you. At least our offenses are tasteful and have meaning. You really just massacred a hut full of elderly individuals because you were bored? Some child was screaming too much in the market, so you beheaded them? The list goes on and on. At this point, you are simply a hired thug who doesn’t deserve to handle a saber, especially not in our ranks.”

There is a brief flash of slight remorse in his eye from the sting of her words, but this tactic doesn’t work for long. While Wooyoung isn't necessarily proud of his past, he did what he had to do to survive, and bosses paid top dollar for disgusting jobs that nobody else had the stomach to carry out.

He regains his cocky demeanor and chuckles darkly, his obsidian eyes locking into belittling mode,  “It’s cute you think you have any influence over me, really.” He says as he elbows her in the stomach, making her fall on one knee, and holds her chin up to face him.

Leaning down, he whispers into her ear, “Not only do I not think you have it in you to actually hurt me, but I’m also kinkier than you can imagine, so any physical pain or perceived discomfort is only going to end up with me fighting to not get hard instead of fighting you. Nice try, though, sweetheart.”

As he walks to his chambers, she rushes out of the camp. Sadly, they are so used to her antics that they pay no mind. She typically paces in the nearby clearing for about a half hour and then returns.

In the meantime, Hongjoong catches Wooyoung before both retire to their chambers and reminds him, "Wooyoung, don't forget. The Council must be taken care of soon, but we must be methodical. Start taking out the nobody's that frequent the Council."

Gulping nervously, knowing who he was referencing, Wooyoung nods and informs Hongjoong that the Empress has already assigned him his first target: Y/N. Hongjoong looks like he has seen a ghost but clears his throat and disappears into the hall's shadows leading to his room. He shakily mutters about how good it is to know he shares Bibi's vision.

Neither knows that Winter is determined this time to prove that she can be an asset. Hopping in her ship, she heads straight for one of Y/N's smaller shops in Coruscant. While she wants to go for the kill at your leading shop and residence in Tatooine, she worries that she will be overstepping.

Little did she know that you had decided to camp out there for the night as you needed a night in the city soon, and that day was tomorrow once some more work got done.

Winter gets to your shop, and without checking to ensure it is empty, she sets it ablaze from every corner. During a dream where Huyang was baking fresh bread for you, your nose picks up on the prevalent smoke smell and jolts you awake.

Even though the fire has already done some surface damage to your arms, legs, and some of your hair, you manage to get out of there in time and flee from the scene on your Flitknot speeder bike. Winter spots movement out of her periphery, and she doesn’t realize it is you until she gets closer.

She continues the pursuit all the way to the heart of the city by the ’79s, even as it starts to rain. How fitting, she thinks; the sky is overflowing, and so are her emotions.

She wanted to tell Hongjoong he was utterly wrong. Nothing about you intrigued her. Not even your unique hair and magnetic energy. Attachments only led to downfall, and it was bad enough she had to internalize her attraction to Wooyoung; she couldn’t literally fall for the enemy. That was too cliché.

But she didn't stand a chance; she fantasized about you so often it was shameful on every level. She had gone crazy jealous that Wooyoung AND Hongjoong had gotten to have private chats with you, but she didn’t. However, if there was an incident with your shop, she could make a case to ensure that you were unharmed for purely strategic reasons.

Now that she had you in her sights, all of her anger returned, and she was determined to show that she could be fierce and just as murderous as Bibi’s favorite, Wooyoung. Emotions were confusing. Violence was simple. She had made up her mind.

Not knowing you had been followed and grateful to be alive, you entered the 79s for a much-needed drink. The door then aggressively swung open to reveal a soaked-to-the-bone Winter approaching you with a fully lit saber and a psychotic look in her, showcasing how ready she was to use it on you.

Wanting to keep the innocent bystanders safe, you pleaded with her to take this outside. You didn’t want any trouble nor have any motive to be engaged in a disagreement with her, especially not to this extent.

Agreeing, she follows behind you from the coziness of the cantina to the monsoon outside, the only illumination being the neon lights from the rest of the businesses on the street. Trying to get your bearings, you lose sight of her; no way she is that inhumanly fast, you think to yourself.

As if she could read your mind, she whistles, “Hey, Y/N, up here. I guess it’s true; the pretty ones are always dumb. Such a shame I have to rid the world of your pitiful existence, but duty calls.”

Leaping to the top of the building, you strike the first blow of your staff, hitting her on the head. Struggling to her feet, she laughs maniacally, “Ohhhhh, we are off to a great start, aren't we? You'll have to do better than that to discourage me, though.”

Determined to live another day, you separate your staff into mini batons and manage to block all of her attempts to slice you in half. Knocking her off the ledge, she uses her power to boomerang her saber right over your face and back to her. While you managed to dodge it for the most part, your right cheek got slightly burned by the saber's edge.

Managing to land on her feet, she hobbles away to her bike but warns you that this isn’t the last you will see of her. Were those tears on her face or the rain? Was she raspy from trying not to cry or hoarse from all of the hits she took from your staff? It didn't matter. You needed to go home and warn Huyang the whole time, praying you weren't too late...

The following day, you and Winter both woke up sore and confused, but that is where the similar experience ends. You awoke with Huyang bringing you breakfast in bed, and she was busy getting scolded by Hongjoong from the moment he saw her. “HOW IN THE WORLD DID YOU THINK IT WAS SMART GOING ROGUE, ESPECIALLY ALONE? AT NIGHT???? God, you really are too immature to be in Empress training. Explain yourself.”.

Fighting back tears and trying to ignore the dull ache in her sides, she pleaded her case to Hongjoong, “Listen, I know it wasn’t the smartest thing, but I figured too many people would garner more attention than would be wise, plus I wanted to prove myself.”

Hongjoong chuckles mockingly, “Prove yourself?! You proved nothing except that you have the brain of a high-strung adolescent and that scratching a cheek is all you are capable of. Congrats, truly...." he ended sarcastically.

She continues to loudly defend her actions between sobs caused by the physical and emotional pain she is enduring to no avail. Hongjoong laughs at her existence and exits the room, but not without aggressively hurling a few more insults.

Looking annoyed, Wooyoung walks out of his chambers, ignoring the scene; those two are always fighting. As he was about to ask Hongjoong to spar with him, he noticed that his kyber crystal was only half working. Who just happens to be the nearest sabersmith? Y/N.

Already not being a morning person, plus being done with the constant fighting AND finding out he has to interact civilly with the newest annoyance in his life, created a very dejected Wooyoung. Winter notices the door open and starts begging him to wait for her but gets ignored and starts sobbing more as he makes his way to Y/N’s shop.

About halfway to the shop, Wooyoung is contemplating just taking the entire day and going to the next nearest shop, which would extend your trek from about 2 hours to 5 hours. He just can’t reconcile giving you the satisfaction of him coming to you for assistance. He was also exhausted and wanted to be done with his errand and return home for training and a nap as soon as possible. But what can his pride handle?

                                      TO BE CONTINUED

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

NASA's mini rover team is packed for lunar journey

Three small NASA rovers that will explore the lunar surface as a team have been packed up and shipped from the agency's Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Southern California, marking completion of the first leg of the robots' journey to the moon.

The rovers are part of a technology demonstration called CADRE (Cooperative Autonomous Distributed Robotic Exploration), which aims to show that a group of robots can collaborate to gather data without receiving direct commands from mission controllers on Earth. They'll use their cameras and ground-penetrating radars to send back imagery of the lunar surface and subsurface while testing out the novel software that enables them to work together autonomously.

The CADRE rovers will launch to the moon aboard IM-3, Intuitive Machines' third lunar delivery, which has a mission window that extends into early 2026, as part of NASA's CLPS (Commercial Lunar Payload Services) initiative. Once installed on Intuitive Machines' Nova-C lander, they'll head to the Reiner Gamma region on the western edge of the moon's near side, where the solar-powered, suitcase-size rovers will spend the daylight hours of a lunar day (the equivalent of about 14 days on Earth) carrying out experiments.

The success of CADRE could pave the way for potential future missions with teams of autonomous robots supporting astronauts and spreading out to take simultaneous, distributed scientific measurements.

Construction of the CADRE hardware—along with a battery of rigorous tests to prove readiness for the journey through space—was completed in February 2024.

To get prepared for shipment to Intuitive Machines' Houston facility, each rover was attached to its deployer system, which will lower it via tether from the lander onto the dusty lunar surface. Engineers flipped each rover-deployer pair over and attached it to an aluminum plate for safe transit. The rovers were then sealed in protective metal-frame enclosures that were fitted snuggly into metal shipping containers and loaded onto a truck. The hardware arrived safely on Sunday, Feb. 9.

"Our small team worked incredibly hard constructing these robots and putting them to the test, and we have been eagerly waiting for the moment where we finally see them on their way," said Coleman Richdale, the team's assembly, test, and launch operations lead at JPL. "We are all genuinely thrilled to be taking this next step in our journey to the moon, and we can't wait to see the lunar surface through CADRE's eyes."

The rovers, the base station, and a camera system that will monitor CADRE experiments on the moon will be integrated with the lander—as will several other NASA payloads—in preparation for the launch of the IM-3 mission.

IMAGE: Members of a JPL team working on NASA’s CADRE technology demonstration use temporary red handles to move one of the project’s small Moon rovers to prepare it for transport to Intuitive Machines’ Houston facility, where it will be attached to the company’s third lunar lander. Credit: NASA / JPL-Caltech

[facesbehindglass]

About

Casual doll collector. I barely know what I'm doing.

I want to collect at least 1 of each fashion doll brand. Especially early 2000's ones. There's plenty so I don't count knockoffs (unless they're really interesting....) I think I'll try to limit myself to 1/6 scale non-collector dolls, but even then it may be a sisyphean task lmao

If you ever look for info like

-do X doll clothes fit Y doll

-measurements

-doll id (try google lens first tho!)

-size comparisons

then feel free to poke me after checking the list below (cause you'll know what dolls I got)

If there are any dolls you find interesting and aren't on the list, share, I wanna see :3

(Also, personal posts are tagged as #rustyspots)

✓ Owned

Checklist:

A

Arabian Friends

Art Squad

B

✓ Barbie (+My First)

✓ Barbie Dream Besties

✓ The Beatrix Girls

Beauty Cuties

✓ BeKind Dolls

Be Fashion Academy

Be You Crew

✓ BFF Crybabies

✓ Boxy Girls

Bratz

✓ Bratz (but the tall ones lol)

✓ Bratzillaz

Bright Fairy Friends

C

Candyloks

Catalina

Catwalk Kitties

✓ Cave Club

Coleção Camilinhas

✓ Creatable World

Crush: Urban Energy

✓ Cutie Pops

✓ Cyborg Rocks

D

Dawn

DC Super Hero Girls

✓ Decora Girlz

Defa Lucy

✓ Disney Descendants (Hasbro)

Disney Descendants (Mattel)

✓ Disney ily 4EVER

✓ Diva Starz

Dollikins

✓ Dream Ella Extra Iconic Mini

✓ Dream Seekers

E

✓ Enchantimals

Ever After High

F

✓ FailFix

Fairy Tale High

✓ Famosa Club Hello Kitty

✓ Fidgie Friends

Flatsy

✓ Flavas

✓ Freckles & Friends

✓ The Fresh Dolls

✓ Fulla

G

Glo-Up girls

✓ Gorjuss

Gorgeous Creatures

Groovy Catz

H

✓ Hairdorables

✓ Hairdorables Hairmazing

👁️‍🗨️ Hello Kitty and Friends

✓ Hi Glamm

Holly Hobbie

I

iBesties (?)

J

Juku Couture

Just Grrls

K

Kawaii Crush

Kindi Kids

Kiyaa

Kurhn

Kuu Kuu Harajuku

L

✓ Lalaloopsy

✓ Lammily

✓ La Dee Da

✓ Licca

Little Bebops

Liv

✓ Locksies

Lollipop Girls

✓ LOL OMG

✓ LOL OMG Fierce

✓ LOL Tweens

✓ Lottie

LPS Blythe

LULUPOP

M

Magic Mixies Pixie Supremes

✓ Mermaid High

✓ Mermaze Mermaidz

👁️‍🗨️Mia by Hello Kitty

MimiWorld

Miss Scouby

Mixis

MomokoDOLL

✓ Monster High Frightfully Tall

✓ Monster High G1

✓ Monster High G2

✓ Monster High G3

Moxie Girls

Moxie Teenz

Myscene (any...)

✓ Myscene Fab Faces

Mystikats

Mystixx

✓ My Little Pony Equestria Girls

N

✓ Na! Na! Na! Surprise

Na! Na! Na! Surprise Teens

Naija Princess

✓ Nebulous Stars

✓ Novi Stars

O

✓ Once Upon A Zombie

P

Passport Friends

Peppermint Rose

Peteena

✓ Pinkie Cooper

✓ Piny Doll (PinyPon)

Pippa

Pixie Doodles

✓ Power Puff Girls Z

Precure Bandai (?)

Prettie Girls Tween Scene

✓ Project Mc²

Q

✓ Queens of Africa

R

Rainbow Brite

✓ Rainbow High

✓ Rainbow High Junior

✓ Rainbow High My Runway Friend

✓ Regal Academy

Rose Petal Place

Ruruko

S

Secret Jouju

✓ Shadow High

✓ Shibajuku Girls

👁️‍🗨️Shopkins Shoppies

✓ Sindy (Hasbro)

👁️‍🗨️Sindy (Pedigree)

✓ Snapstars

✓ Star Darlings

Starletz

✓ Steffi Love

👁️‍🗨️Strawberry Shortcake

Struts

Style Bae

Stylistaz

Sunny Day (?)

✓ Sweetyz

T

✓ Tattoo Divas

Trollz

Twilight Teens

U

✓ Unicorn Academy

👁️‍🗨️Unique Eyes

V

Vibe Girls

✓ VIP Hair Academy

Vi and Va

W

✓ We Teens

✓ What's Her Face

Wild Childz (?)

✓ Wild Hearts Crew

✓ WWE Superstars Wrestling

Y

Yue Sai Wa Wa

👁️‍🗨️Yummi-Land

✓ Yummi-Land (Reboot)

Z

Zeenie Dollz

Zodiac Girlz

👁️‍🗨️Zombie Girls

Side quest dolls

Barbie Extra Mini Extra Mini Mini

Best Furry Friends

Bratz Kidz

Ddung

Lady Lovely Locks

✓ Magic Mixies Pixlings

✓ Sparkle Girlz Little Sparkles

Dolls (or their remains) that are pretty much impossible to get but one can hope ;w;

-Country Kuttiez

-Driks

-LaTeenaz

-Trashion Alley

"Duplicates" I want anyway cause they're my grails:

-target exclusive Pinkie Pie EG

-failfix, the blondie one cuz shes smoler than the rest

-Novi Stars Doe A Deer

-Monster High Isi Dawndancer

[the-great-lightwood-bane]

make this place beautiful

Malec | Rated general | tw canon-typical warnings | Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting 

Summary: In which Magnus and Alec a) first meet at Alec's first Downworld Cabinet meeting, months before Clary comes into the picture; b) fall in love while believing that the other one only wants a friend; and c) fight Valentine, and perhaps a few others.

A/N: This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Mini Bang 2023: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver.

This is not a complete fic; I started it for the big bang, and then IRL showed up and I wasn't able to write everything I wanted to. Here, I've collected a couple early scenes, plus the climax scene, so it doesn't end on a total cliffhanger (although there are still loose ends to tie up). There's a summary paragraph in square brackets between those two parts to avoid confusion. If I ever get around to writing the rest of this, I'll post it here!

Art for this fic (above) created by cloudbunbuzz!

Read it on AO3 or below the cut.

Magnus stares up at the huge, imposing front doors of the Institute. He’s never stepped inside of them before — oh, he’s entered the Institute through the side door leading to the area of the Institute where Downworlders are allowed to petition the Head for assistance, but this is, obviously, different. At least on the surface. He’s not so sure about how much has changed, deep down. 

He thinks of the fire message he received a few weeks earlier — the formal but not particularly discriminatory invitation to attend a Downworld Cabinet. Organized by the new Head of the Institute, Alexander Lightwood, the eldest child of Maryse and Robert. To share information and collaborate to ensure the collective peace of our peoples. Not races, but peoples. Whatever else Lightwood is, he’s careful in his wording. 

The problem is that Magnus doesn’t know exactly what else he is. As the son of a Circle member, he’d expected cool disdain if not outright vitriol. Instead, Shadowhunter-Downworlder confrontations have been steadily decreasing since the newest Lightwood took control, and now there’s this. An invitation to a Downworld Cabinet. 

It is, honestly, preposterous. A Shadowhunter, and a Lightwood at that, trying to initiate peace? Cooperation? Between the Downworld and the Shadowhunters, as though they’re equals? Magnus knows better than to trust any such promises, however sweet they may seem. 

But the invitation had been sent out. Magnus saw no signs of deception, although he looked carefully. This is almost certainly some sort of ploy to gain the trust of the Downworld; if it isn’t, Lightwood is simply absurdly naïve and the Cabinet will be doomed before it even starts. But Magnus needs to know which of the two it is — does he need to be careful of treachery from Lightwood, or simply avoid whatever bumbling errors he makes in his misguided attempts to build a relationship between the Shadowhunters and the Downworlders? 

Magnus turns when Meliorn calls his name — he must be here to represent the Seelie Queen. There’s no way she could ever let the other leaders get together without a way to know what goes on; whether this is fake or real, she’ll want to know. Magnus greets him with an inclination of the head. They stop at the doors and wait for the others; Magnus knows none of them are particularly eager to wander the halls of the Institute alone. 

Raphael is the next to arrive. Magnus knew he was coming; they’ve been discussing the question in detail since the invitations arrived. Is it a trap? Is it some sort of bribery to get them to cooperate? Is Lightwood genuinely naïve enough to think this could work? The chances that Lightwood will cause them harm are slim — the Downworld would likely fall into revolt, which would bring the Clave’s disfavour down on the Institute — and so Raphael, like Magnus, has come to find out what in Edom Lightwood is thinking. 

Luke arrives last. His ascension to Alpha is because of this meeting: Theo refused to even consider it, and Luke, hoping it was true, challenged him on the spot. (Magnus healed the injuries he sustained in winning the fight.) It makes sense that he’s more willing to trust Shadowhunters than the rest of them — he has, after all, once been one of them — and Magnus hopes he won’t be too let down when Lightwood reveals his true colours. 

Only once all four are assembled does Magnus step forward and knock on the door. He’s sure the Shadowhunters know they’re out here, but a blond man opens the door without comment and escorts them inside with a polite inclination of the head. Surprisingly polite, but of course Lightwood would send a neutral figure to greet them at the door. If he didn’t, it would destroy the entire point of this charade. 

The Shadowhunter introduces himself as Andrew Underhill, and leads them directly into what appears to be some sort of command centre — the space is milling with Shadowhunters, clustered around tables holding holographic maps or computer banks full of camera feeds. Several glance up when the Downworlders enter, but Magnus is taken aback by the strange lack of glares. Lightwood must have a lot of authority here, if he can compel his people to be so polite. 

Another Shadowhunter comes up — tall, dark-haired, extremely attractive, authority lying across his shoulders like a cloak. There’s a deflect rune on the side of his neck, a placement which Magnus recognises as a Lightwood trademark, but even without it, Magnus thinks he would recognise him as the Head. Something in the clear deference that Underhill shows, the posture that suggests leadership. Magnus recalls the carefully polite wording of the message, and thinks that this is certainly the type of person to act carefully and logically, to plan. 

That means he’s probably not very naïve, which means that he has ulterior motives behind the creation of this Cabinet. Magnus cannot afford to think about how attractive he may be. 

“Thank you for coming,” Lightwood says, with an inclination of the head that’s actually not so small as to be offensive — in fact, the gesture suggests that the Downworlders are of equal rank to Lightwood, rather than being dirt beneath his shoes. 

“Did we have a choice?” Raphael asks, voice cold and dismissive. Internally, Magnus winces; whatever Lightwood’s intentions, offending him cannot be a good idea. 

Magnus might be reading too much into it, but he thinks Lightwood’s slow blink might hide surprise. His voice, however, shows no trace of emotion. “It was not my intention to make it appear as though you did not. I assure you that there would have been no repercussions had you chosen not to come, and there will be no repercussions should you choose to leave at any point today, although I hope you do not.” 

It’s easy to say that, Magnus thinks, and Lightwood isn’t a faerie. Lies probably rise more easily to his lips than truth. Still, Magnus doesn’t leave. 

Lightwood leads them out of Ops and into some sort of conference room — the table, Magnus notes, is round, likely to preserve the pretence of equality. None of the seats have their backs directly to the door; Magnus knows that positioning a chair that way would either leave a Downworlder wildly uncomfortable, or if Alec took the seat, give the impression that he was blocking the exit. 

Instead, two seats are about equidistant from the exit. Magnus takes one and Meliorn the other; Raphael sits on Magnus’s other side, and Luke beside Meliorn. That leaves Alec with the seat farthest from the door — a seat he takes willingly, even though it leaves him essentially trapped in a room with four Downworlders. None of them can make a move without bringing the Clave down on their heads, of course, but it’s still interesting. 

“I would like to begin by reiterating my apology that any of you understood there to be repercussions for not attending this meeting,” Lightwood says. “Your presence here today and in future is entirely voluntary, although much appreciated.”

Magnus inclines his head a glacial fraction in acknowledgement; Raphael echoes him, but Luke nods quite happily, while Meliorn’s posture is unchanging. Lightwood doesn’t seem daunted by their reluctance; Magnus still doesn’t know what to make of him. 

“I’ve asked you to come here for a few reasons,” Lightwood goes on. Magnus is certain he’s rehearsed this speech before, but it still sounds fairly natural; the tone is a hair less formal than Lightwood’s apology, but still professional. “First, I want to make amends for my parents’ treatment of the Downworld during their time as Heads of the Institute. Secondly, I think that both Shadowhunters and Downworlders could benefit from closer cooperation between our two groups. Thirdly, I would like to have your input on the measures I’m planning to take to reduce discrimination against Downworlders both in New York and elsewhere.” He pauses, glancing around at the four people sitting around him. 

Magnus no longer knows what to make of him at all. There’s a straightforwardness about him that makes Magnus doubt that he’d do anything too treacherous, and Magnus has learned to respect his gut instinct — but what Shadowhunter could possibly, seriously, want to do any of the things which Lightwood has listed off? It’s preposterous. To make amends? To both benefit from closer cooperation? To reduce discrimination with Downworlder input?  

It is, frankly, utterly impossible, especially for the son of two Circle members. It is impossible. Lightwood cannot possibly mean what he says. 

And yet, Magnus wants to believe him with a surprising intensity. 

He doesn’t know, so he leans back in his chair and listens to what Lightwood has to say. 

“I have recently been made aware of my parents’ role in the genocide of Downworlders during the Uprising,” Lightwood says, and Magnus only barely manages to prevent himself from reacting. There are layers to that statement, but foremost among them is the word genocide. Even when the Clave went so far as to declare themselves opposed to the Circle, they never said exactly what the Circle was doing — never outright declared that the Circle was exterminating Downworlders like so many insects. No, there was always a veneer of formality behind which the Clave hid, euphemisms and half-truths preventing the Clave from having to outright disavow their best and brightest, however misguided. 

And now, Lightwood cuts through all that with perfect ease, although there’s a glint in his eye that shows his awareness of what he’s doing. The Circle committed genocide against the Downworld. It’s there, a bald statement, a declaration. 

Lightwood proceeds as though he doesn’t notice the surprise that’s swept through his listeners — even Meliorn’s careful facade has cracked a fraction. “Since then, they have continually acted unjustly towards the Downworld. I understand that monetary repayments are insufficient to make up for everything they have done, but you are nevertheless owed recompense under the Accords. The Clave may avoid offering it on the basis of technicalities, but I offer it in their stead.” 

This Shadowhunter. To offer recompense at all would be surprising, but Lightwood is offering it without even assuming that’ll make everything better — and he’s implying that the Clave is wrong not to have done so. He’s calling the Clave out on their bullshit declarations that they are entirely unaffiliated with the Circle and thus bear no responsibility for Downworlder deaths at Valentine’s hands. It’s more than Magnus would have expected of any Shadowhunter, let alone the son of two (barely-)ex-Circle members. 

The sum Lightwood proceeds to name is. Well. He’s not rounding down the Downworlder death toll, to say the least, and Magnus is not alone in staring at him in utterly stupefied silence. 

Lightwood waits for a moment, and then, when nobody speaks up, moves on to the next topic. “More practically, I feel that significant benefits could be achieved through a closer relationship between Downworlders and Shadowhunters. I’m not suggesting that Shadowhunters get involved in Downworlder business, but if we could — at a bare minimum — share information on demon movements, I think it could help all of us.” 

“Downworlders aren’t going to do your dirty work for you, Lightwood,” Raphael drawls. “Isn’t killing demons what Shadowhunters are for?”

“It is,” Lightwood agrees calmly, despite the aggression in Raphael’s tone. “And I’m not going to ask any of you to start fighting demons — the chances of that going badly are too high. But our demon sensors don’t work in the vicinity of large groups of Downworlders — or rather, they work too well, and go off continuously. If a demon shows up near the Hotel Dumort or the Jade Wolf, we’ve got no way of knowing about it except if you see it and tell us about it.” 

“And why,” Raphael asks, his voice dropping to a hiss, “has the Clave not informed us of this danger?”

“Because the Clave does not count Downworlders among those we have the duty to protect.” Lightwood pauses. “I, however, do. Raziel created us to protect the world from demons, not merely those members of the world without the Sight. Mundanes, Shadowhunters, ex-Shadowhunters, and Downworlders all fall within our mandate.”

Another simple, concise refutation of all that the Clave pretends not to believe. Raphael does not have a retort. 

“Our technicians are currently working on building sensors that can differentiate between demons and Downworlders,” Lightwood adds, “but we have been unsuccessful so far.” 

“I might be able to offer some assistance,” Magnus says — a test, as well as a genuine offer. Few Shadowhunters would be willing to work with Downworlders when not absolutely necessary. “Runic and warlock magic, working together, becomes capable of a good deal more than either could do alone.” The portal being a prime example — not that any Shadowhunters have acknowledged as much since Henry Branwell’s time. 

“That would be great,” Lightwood replies immediately. “We can discuss fees later on. In the short term, though, please do call us if you see a demon, especially if it’s somewhere near the DuMort or the Jade Wolf.” He pushes a business card with a phone number on it across the table to each of them. Magnus examines his — simple, white with black lettering. 

Alexander Lightwood

Head of the New York Institute

XXX-XXX-XXXX

Lightwood’s own number, then, not just the Institute’s number. Magnus puts the card in a pocket. 

“We’ll consider it, Shadowhunter,” Raphael says, leaning back in his chair. 

Luke nods more cordially, if only marginally so. He was once a Shadowhunter himself; despite all he’s suffered at their hands, he’s still more willing to trust them than the average Downworlder. 

“The last point I wanted to address, before I open the meeting up to any of your concerns,” Lightwood begins, “is about the legal battle underway in Alicante for Downworlder rights.”

“Legal battle?” It’s Magnus who asks the question, but he can see from the other Downworlders’ faces that none of them were aware of any such legal battle. A battle for Downworlder rights in Alicante itself — might that be how New York wound up with such a progressive leader?

“You didn’t know?” Lightwood seems surprised, but shakes it off after a moment. “No, how would you? It’s all going down in Alicante, and it’s not like there are any procedures in place to inform the Downworld of legislative changes that affect you.” He huffs with what seems like genuine frustration. On a Downworlder’s behalf. Every word out of Lightwood’s mouth brings a new surprise. 

Lightwood begins to explain the situation. “Alicante’s last four legislative sessions have been dominated by debate over Downworlder rights. It’s partially because the younger generation is now taking over Head positions from our parents, which is causing a shift in priorities. The old guard is pushing back, of course, but we’re making progress.” He pulls out a binder, stuffed full with papers but appearing meticulously organized. “We’ve managed to stop a bill that Inquisitor Herondale was pushing, which would’ve held leaders of groups of Downworlders responsible not only for the behaviour of members of that group, but also for the behaviour of rogue Downworlders in their area. Our main goal, though, is to get a rewrite of the Accords.” 

Magnus leans back in his chair, doing his best to set aside shock in favour of thinking logically about the political situation. “What do you want to change in the Accords?”

“We’ve got a couple ideas — the right to a trial with a mixed Downworlder/Shadowhunter jury, for example — but what I’d really like to get is your input.” Lightwood glances around at the table. “There’s no point in rewriting the Accords if we end up back where we started.” 

Right. Just Shadowhunters actually trying to help Downworlders, for the first time Magnus can remember. “Not everything can be solved by changing a few laws.”

“It can’t,” Lightwood agrees, “but changing the laws is a place to start, and I’d like to think this Cabinet could be a step towards fixing the other problems we’re facing.” 

Magnus nods, slowly, and they get to work.

[A brief explanation of what happens next: Magnus and Alec become friends (ft. minor misunderstandings and mutual pining). Clary shows up, and Malec deal with her a bit better than they do in canon, because a) Alec is properly HoTI in this ’verse, so he has more power, and b) Malec already know each other and can rely on each other/cooperate more than they do in canon. Valentine manages to build a bomb of angelic energy, which he plans to let off in a roomful of Downworlders (as an alternative to the Soul Sword, since Alec kept that out of his hands in this ’verse). Alec manages to evacuate the Downworlders (giving up on catching Valentine to do so), but he himself is hit with the angelic bomb. It doesn’t kill him, but they soon discover that it’s infected him with angelic energy (similar to heavenly fire, but not exactly the same). If he touches a Downworlder, they die, and if he touches a mundane, they become a Forsaken (basically, Alec touching a non-Shadowhunter has the same effect as drawing a rune on them). They also suspect that if he touches a Shadowhunter, the angelic energy will be passed from one to the other. Izzy’s testing suggests that the energy may consume Alec if they don’t figure out a way to get rid of it. In light of this, Alec has requested that Downworlders stay away from him, and has been attending Downworld Cabinet meetings via Projection. Magnus is, needless to say, upset.]

“What,” Alec asks, his voice clipped and harsh and cold, “are you doing here, Magnus?” 

Magnus refuses on principle to be deterred. “Am I not allowed to drop in to see a friend, Alexander?”

Alec opens his mouth, closes it, hisses, and then glares at him. He’s torn, Magnus knows, between the impulse to insist that Downworlders are welcome in the Institute any time they like — Alec’s really worked hard to make the Institute a more welcoming place — and the urge to get Magnus to leave by any means necessary. 

His goal is to protect Magnus, which is rather sweet, but also infuriating. They have no evidence whatsoever that just being in Alec’s presence could harm him, and seeing as Izzy is yet to find a cure for the angelic energy held in Alec’s body, Magnus thinks his magical expertise could come in handy. 

But no. Alec hasn’t quite forbidden any Downworlders from entering the Institute, but he’s strongly recommended that they stay away from him, which is essentially the same thing. In light of what happened to Gretel when Alec had touched her, Magnus can’t really say it’s an overreaction, but he absolutely can and will say that it’s yet another instance of Alec’s self-sacrificial tendencies. 

“You’re free to do whatever you like,” Alec says at last, scowling at him, and turns on his heel to stride away. 

Magnus follows. 

Alec leaves Ops and starts heading towards his office. 

Magnus keeps following him. 

Alec sits down at his desk and pulls a stack of papers towards himself. 

Magnus sits down opposite him, and waits. 

Alec sighs. “Magnus.”  

“Alec.”  

They look at each other across the desk for a moment. 

“At least let me do a magical scan,” Magnus offers. “I won’t need to touch you, and maybe we’ll figure something out to control it.” Because if we don’t control it—  

“The risks—”

“Are minor relative to the risks to you.” Alec isn’t going to convince Magnus otherwise. Not about this. Not when the untamed energy humming beneath Alec’s skin will eventually consume him, too, just as surely as it’ll kill any Downworlder who touches him. 

Alec’s lips are compressed stubbornly. “Magnus, it would really be best if you—”

“I’m not leaving.” Alec may have a stubborn streak a mile wide, but so does Magnus, especially when it comes to this. To Alec’s safety. “You’re my friend. I’m not going to sit by and do nothing while you waste away.” 

Alec means a good deal more than a friend to Magnus, but that’s beside the point. The point is that Alec already looks skinnier than he should, his cheekbones sharper, his musculature more pronounced. The angelic energy is eating him up from the inside, and Magnus wants to help.  

Whatever retort Alec was formulating is cut off when his tablet blares with an alert that sounds more like an alarm than anything else. Alec frowns and grabs it, silencing the noise and staring down at whatever it says on the screen. 

“Another potential hideout of Valentine’s,” Alec says at last, glancing up at Magnus and then back down. “We’ve come across more than a few potential locations, but so far they’ve all been dead ends. Still worth checking, obviously, but we’ll just send a small team to investigate and call everyone else if they find anything.” 

He looks at Magnus again, and then down at his watch. “As a matter of fact, I think I’ll go. I’ve spent too long cooped up in the Institute.” 

Magnus has no plans whatsoever to let Alec avoid this conversation by just walking away. “Good point. I’ll come with you.” 

“No.” Alec scowls at him. 

Magnus returns the look. 

Alec sighs as if to relent. “We can continue this conversation when I get back, okay?” 

“Fine,” Magnus lies — he’s definitely not letting Alec investigate a possible Circle hideout without backup. 

So, ten minutes after Alec leaves, Magnus steps out of a portal across the street from the empty warehouse. 

“Magnus—” Alec hisses from behind him. “Why did you follow me?” 

“Two sets of eyes are better than one,” Magnus replies. “Seen anything so far?” 

Alec huffs, but acknowledges that there’s no way Magnus is going to leave. See, Magnus knows he can be sensible sometimes. 

“No, there doesn’t seem to be anyone there, but that doesn’t necessarily mean there isn’t anyone there,” Alec tells him. “We should try getting a bit closer.” 

Magnus hums agreement, and the two of them creep quietly forwards, sticking to the shadows of the sparse trees although Alec maintains a careful six feet of distance between them. Alec’s footsteps are, of course, completely silent, but Magnus has snuck around enough places to be pretty quiet as well. The loudest sound is their breathing. 

Until, that is, Magnus feels wards brushing against his skin. “Alexander, wait—”

Too late. Alec, several steps ahead of him, is already across the wards. 

An alarm begins to blare. 

Alec swears softly, and glances back at Magnus. Backup, he mouths, and Magnus flicks his fingers behind his back to send off several urgent fire messages — to the Institute as well as to various Downworlders. Best to get as many fighters here as possible, although he knows it’s unlikely that any of them will arrive anytime soon. 

The not-so-abandoned warehouse is now somewhat reminiscent of a kicked anthill — Circle members in black are scurrying out of it in not-insignificant numbers. 

Magnus makes a quick mental calculation. There’s no way they can fight off that many Circle members alone; there’s no way they can even survive against them until backup arrives. Which leaves either running away, and letting Valentine have a chance to escape, or—  

“How about I cast a spell of invisibility on us, and we sneak inside?” Magnus whispers urgently. 

Alec nods, no doubt having come to the same conclusion. The spell takes effect, and they move in tandem towards the building. 

It’s simple enough to slip, invisible, past the scurrying Circle members, but the difficulty of the invisibility spell increases exponentially with the number of people trying to look through it, and the wards are mildly magic-suppressant. (Mildly to Magnus, at least; they’d be effective against a warlock like Dot.) 

He can’t afford to go into a fight with Circle members low on magic. So, once they’re within the building and out of the Circle members’ direct sight, he drops the glamour with a sigh. Alec glances at him, worried, but only activates a couple runes and continues on — still a couple paces away from Magnus. 

It’s not long before they come across another Circle member, presumably left behind to guard the building while her fellows search outside; Alec kills her with an arrow through her throat. The next two guards are dispatched with similar ease, but the one after that manages to yell before Magnus’s magic wraps around their throat. Magnus sees Alec tense, just as alarms begin to blare; it’s only a matter of time, now, until they’re overrun. 

Circle members are pouring in, an unending stream of them that they can only barely keep at bay. They stand back to back, a scant foot between them so they don’t quite trust, and Magnus fights with magic and blades until the floor is wet with blood and the hallways dotted with corpses. 

And then Valentine is there. It’s obvious that he’s a better fighter than any of his lackeys; Magnus only barely dodges a swipe of his seraph blade, but before he can engage Valentine in proper combat, Alec is there, his blades glowing as brightly as Valentine’s and his Deflect rune standing in sharp contrast to the circle on Valentine’s neck. Magnus can’t hit Valentine with a spell while Alec’s there, but he can knock out the Circle members coming to Valentine’s aid, so he lets Alec deal with the greater threat while he dispatches the lesser ones. 

There are quite a few Circle members left, though, and Magnus is forced to divert most of his attention away from Alec and Valentine in order to fight them. Magic wraps around hands to deflect seraph blades; the knife in Magnus’s other hand darts out to sever tendons and muscles with quiet efficiency. 

And then he hears Alec grunt in pain, and half-turns to look in time to see one of Alec’s seraph blades go sailing out of his bloodied hand — Magnus knocks Valentine back a step with a desperate burst of magic, but he’s too slow, and one of his own assailants’ blades lands in his stomach. 

The angelic energy burns, and he can feel it attacking his magic, trying to eat away at the demonic side of him. He sweeps a hand towards the several Circle members around him, and they fall like stones, and then his magic sputters out against the onslaught of the seraph blade’s angelic power. 

Valentine has lost a seraph blade, too, in the impact from Magnus’s spell; he turns and runs for the doorway. Alec drops to his knees by Magnus’s side — when did Magnus sit down? — and hovers there, anxiously. 

“Go after him,” Magnus hisses, “I’ll be fine—”  

Alec frowns. “The blood loss—”

“The blade itself will keep that from happening,” Magnus returns, “at least until Cat’s here to help me. Don’t let Valentine get away.”

A moment more when Alec hesitates, and then he stands and grabs a blade from a fallen Circle member in his injured hand. “Don’t take the blade out, Magnus,” he says, almost pleadingly, and then he runs after Valentine. 

Magnus takes a deep breath — ouch —  and scoots over to sit against the wall. 

He inspects the injury. The blade’s gone into his abdomen pretty cleanly, and it doesn’t seem like it’s hit anything crucially important (or, at least, anything that’ll kill him before backup arrives); not much blood is leaking out, which is also a good sign. On the other hand, it hurts like hell, and since it’s a seraph blade, warlock magic isn’t going to do anything to stem the injury. And he is, himself, without magic until the seraph blade is out of him; since taking it out would likely lead to him bleeding to death in fairly short order, he is now approximately useless. 

And Alec is facing off against Valentine alone.  

Fortunately, Magnus doesn’t have long to worry about it, because he hears the clashing of blades not far off and then Alec and Valentine come back into view. Their blades — two seraph blades each; Alec prefers to dual-wield and clearly Valentine is as good with two blades as he is with one — are flashing in the air almost faster than the eye can follow. Valentine, Magnus knows, was the best Shadowhunter of his generation; the fact that Alec can even keep up with him is impressive, but he won’t be able to last long. 

And Magnus can’t help him.  

It’s been barely five minutes since Magnus sent out the fire messages for backup, never mind that it’s felt like far longer. He can probably begin expecting help starting in about another two minutes, but by that time, Alec might be— No. He won’t let that happen. Not to Alec, not to the best man (nevermind Shadowhunter) he’s ever met, not to anyone but especially not to Alec, who he loves—

The means at his disposal. No magic; the knife he was fighting with earlier is too far out of reach, as are any of the Circle members who might have weapons. And the seraph blade currently stabbed through his abdomen, of course. 

Alec is obviously tiring. High-intensity combat like this, or even like the fighting they’d been doing together before Valentine showed up, isn’t sustainable for longer than a few minutes, and Alec is quickly approaching that threshold. 

Magnus pulls the seraph blade out of his stomach — quickly, quietly, if Valentine notices he’ll lose his element of surprise — and hurls it across the room with unerring aim. 

Valentine gasps, an expression of surprise on his face and a seraph blade protruding from his throat, and then drops to the ground at Alec’s feet. 

Magnus’s wound starts bleeding in earnest.

Valentine falls, and Alec barely takes the time to make sure he’s actually dead before he’s turning to Magnus, who’s on the ground, a hand pressed to his side with blood leaking out between his fingers. 

Alec finds himself, abruptly, at Magnus’s side, without much regard for the intervening space and/or time. “Magnus—”

“Alexander.” Magnus says his name like it’s a full sentence all on its own, the way he always does, although this time his voice is hoarse with pain. 

Brutally, Alec shoves down his first instinct, to reach out and help Magnus put pressure on the injury. It’s only thanks to the last few weeks of training himself to never touch people that he’s able to stop himself; instead of touching Magnus, his hands hover awkwardly between them. 

The blood is coming out too fast. “Can’t you heal it?” Alec asks, and then realises that was a stupid question, because obviously Magnus would have healed the giant gaping injury in his stomach if he’d been able to. 

“Injuries from seraph blades are resistant to warlock magic,” Magnus tells him anyway. 

No runes either, since Magnus is a warlock. “Mundane healing, then? We can get you to a hospital—”

Magnus sighs. His face is alarmingly pale. “Mundane doctors aren’t going to be able to stitch me back together, I don’t think, and in any case I don’t have the magic for a portal and you can’t touch me.”

Alec feels his heart stutter. “There isn’t — there isn’t anything we can do?” 

The smile on Magnus’s face is far, far too sad, and Alec’s mind is screaming no no no no no. “I’m sorry, Alexander.” 

“Don’t apologise,” he manages, “there must be — something—” no no no no no

“I’ve lived a long time.” That terribly sad smile doesn’t falter. “And if this is how it ends, well — it’s not the worst way to die.” 

nonononononononono, Alec’s brain says, and but you’re not supposed to die at all, and I love you, and he doesn’t quite manage to put any of that into words, but only crouches there and stares at Magnus. 

“I wanted to—” and then Magnus hesitates, and frowns, and the uncertainty in his expression is a thousand times worse than the too-sad smile. 

“You wanted?” Alec asks, because if Magnus is going to — if he’s really — if this is the last time, then the least Alec can do is encourage him to say whatever it is that he has on his mind. 

“I wanted to tell you,” Magnus says, as though he’s made a decision, “that I love you, and I have loved you as long as I’ve known you and maybe for centuries before, and I don’t want to die without telling you, even if you don’t feel the same—”

“Magnus, what — of course I feel the same,” Alec manages, his chest a knot of love-pain-longing-grief because if Magnus had said that a month ago, a day ago, it would’ve been everything he wanted, but now Magnus is dying and Alec can’t touch him. 

There’s a trickle of blood running down Magnus’s cheek, and tears on his face, and the tips of his hair — dyed blue, brilliant and beautiful as Magnus always was — are blurry. Alec realises that there are tears on his own face, too. 

“Idiots, the pair of us, then,” Magnus huffs, and even with his face blurred out by tears, Alec knows that the sad smile is back on his face. “I wish—”

I wish we’d figured it out sooner, Alec thinks, and he knows Magnus is thinking the same thing. All this time they’ve known each other, all this time running around in circles, and now, now, they know that they love each other. 

Magnus tilts his head back against the wall and breathes out, rasping and pained. Alec’s fingers twitch with the suppressed desire to cup his face, to wipe away the tears and the blood. He holds himself still. 

“Can I ask something impossibly selfish of you, Alexander?” Magnus murmurs, meeting his eyes again. 

Doubt you could be selfish if you tried, Alec thinks, but that’s not particularly helpful. “Anything.”

Magnus swallows. “I want to kiss you.”

It takes Alec a moment to realise that he isn’t voicing an abstract desire, but asking that impossibly selfish thing of Alec. His first reaction, upon processing this, is but I’ll kill you, and then with a horrible sinking feeling he remembers that Magnus is already dying and so — so — 

Anything, Alec said, only moments before, and if this is what Magnus is asking for — to die at Alec’s touch rather than of blood loss — then what can Alec do but give it to him? 

“Okay,” he says, and he feels his heart beat faster at the thought of kissing Magnus even as he knows that there will be no recovering from this — from watching him burn and crumble to ashes at Alec’s touch. 

Alec leans forward and presses their lips together, and for a moment all thoughts of what will come next are lost in the softness of Magnus’s lips, the salt tang of the tears on both their faces, the desperate joy that rises in his chest regardless of anything that his brain has to say about it.

He pulls back to breathe in, unwilling to open his eyes and watch as Magnus—

“Alexander,” Magnus says, and Alec’s eyes snap open. 

He’s — he’s here, and he’s alive, and if Alec is hallucinating this, he thinks he rather prefers it to reality. 

His eyes flicker down to the injury in Magnus’s stomach, from which blood still flows. Not a hallucination, then. 

“It didn’t hurt me,” Magnus breathes. “But how — unless the angelic energy—” He’s frowning, muttering to himself in the way he does when he’s caught up in some research project or other. Alec catches the words angelic descent and Asmodeus and fallen angel, but he’s mostly too busy staring at Magnus to follow. 

(Magnus, alive, but terribly pale.)

Apparently having reached a conclusion he’s satisfied with, Magnus nods sharply. “My father,” he says, “is a fallen angel, and the best explanation I can come up with for this is that there’s enough angel left in him — and, therefore, in me — to prevent the angelic energy in your touch from harming me.” He pauses. “Which is fascinating, actually; I’ve obviously never tested whether other forms of angelic energy hurt me—”

Alec’s been only half listening — Magnus’s rants about magical theory are always fascinating, but Magnus is also bleeding out right now — but the thought of other forms of angelic energy sparks something in his head. “You think runes could work on you?”

Magnus frowns at him. “Quite possibly, but I’d want to try with something else first—”

Without a word, Alec grabs a witchlight from his pocket and pushes it into Magnus’s hand. The brush of skin-on-skin contact — the first in weeks — makes him shudder, but now is not the time. 

The witchlight glows red. 

Magnus stares at it. “Fascinating. But Alec, what—”

“If there’s any chance runes work on you,” Alec whispers, through the desperate clenching of his throat, “we have to try.”  

Wide-eyed, Magnus gapes at Alec. Had he really been so interested in the theoretical implications of his apparent immunity to angelic magic that he hadn’t spared a thought for the fact that it might save his life? By the Angel, Alec loves him more than words can say, and he is the smartest person Alec knows, but he can be incredibly idiotic when it comes to taking care of himself. 

“It could work,” Magnus mutters, “although no way of knowing for certain—” 

“But,” Alec says, desperate, “if the other option is definitely dying—”

Magnus nods, and Alec’s stele is in his hands before he’s consciously reached for it. 

Iratzes first, of course, one after another, traced with the careful precision of a lifetime of practice and the intent devotion of lifetimes’ worth of love, until the gaping hole begins to close. Then mendelin for strengthening his constitution, blood-replenishment runes, more iratzes—

On a Shadowhunter, that injury would have been dangerous, left alone to bleed out for so long. With a parabatai drawing the runes, it would’ve been fine, eventually; without a parabatai, Alec wouldn’t’ve lost hope, but he wouldn’t’ve been optimistic. For some reason, these runes seemed nearly as effective as parabatai runes; Alec didn’t have the faintest idea if it was because of the angelic energy humming under his skin, or because of Magnus’s heritage, or for another reason entirely, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

When reinforcements arrived, they found the two of them side by side, a slightly haggard Magnus still leaning against Alec but with plenty of colour in his cheeks. 

(Alec, on his part, had an arm around Magnus’s shoulders and didn’t plan to let go for a long while.)