#air canada center

[radiorawbee]

air canada

[thewildbelladonna]

Heart and Soul tour, Air Canada Center, Toronto, Canada, April 2nd, 2011.

[jcmarchi]

Natural language boosts LLM performance in coding, planning, and robotics

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/natural-language-boosts-llm-performance-in-coding-planning-and-robotics/

Natural language boosts LLM performance in coding, planning, and robotics

Large language models (LLMs) are becoming increasingly useful for programming and robotics tasks, but for more complicated reasoning problems, the gap between these systems and humans looms large. Without the ability to learn new concepts like humans do, these systems fail to form good abstractions — essentially, high-level representations of complex concepts that skip less-important details — and thus sputter when asked to do more sophisticated tasks.

Luckily, MIT Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence Laboratory (CSAIL) researchers have found a treasure trove of abstractions within natural language. In three papers to be presented at the International Conference on Learning Representations this month, the group shows how our everyday words are a rich source of context for language models, helping them build better overarching representations for code synthesis, AI planning, and robotic navigation and manipulation.

The three separate frameworks build libraries of abstractions for their given task: LILO (library induction from language observations) can synthesize, compress, and document code; Ada (action domain acquisition) explores sequential decision-making for artificial intelligence agents; and LGA (language-guided abstraction) helps robots better understand their environments to develop more feasible plans. Each system is a neurosymbolic method, a type of AI that blends human-like neural networks and program-like logical components.

LILO: A neurosymbolic framework that codes

Large language models can be used to quickly write solutions to small-scale coding tasks, but cannot yet architect entire software libraries like the ones written by human software engineers. To take their software development capabilities further, AI models need to refactor (cut down and combine) code into libraries of succinct, readable, and reusable programs.

Refactoring tools like the previously developed MIT-led Stitch algorithm can automatically identify abstractions, so, in a nod to the Disney movie “Lilo & Stitch,” CSAIL researchers combined these algorithmic refactoring approaches with LLMs. Their neurosymbolic method LILO uses a standard LLM to write code, then pairs it with Stitch to find abstractions that are comprehensively documented in a library.

LILO’s unique emphasis on natural language allows the system to do tasks that require human-like commonsense knowledge, such as identifying and removing all vowels from a string of code and drawing a snowflake. In both cases, the CSAIL system outperformed standalone LLMs, as well as a previous library learning algorithm from MIT called DreamCoder, indicating its ability to build a deeper understanding of the words within prompts. These encouraging results point to how LILO could assist with things like writing programs to manipulate documents like Excel spreadsheets, helping AI answer questions about visuals, and drawing 2D graphics.

“Language models prefer to work with functions that are named in natural language,” says Gabe Grand SM ’23, an MIT PhD student in electrical engineering and computer science, CSAIL affiliate, and lead author on the research. “Our work creates more straightforward abstractions for language models and assigns natural language names and documentation to each one, leading to more interpretable code for programmers and improved system performance.”

When prompted on a programming task, LILO first uses an LLM to quickly propose solutions based on data it was trained on, and then the system slowly searches more exhaustively for outside solutions. Next, Stitch efficiently identifies common structures within the code and pulls out useful abstractions. These are then automatically named and documented by LILO, resulting in simplified programs that can be used by the system to solve more complex tasks.

The MIT framework writes programs in domain-specific programming languages, like Logo, a language developed at MIT in the 1970s to teach children about programming. Scaling up automated refactoring algorithms to handle more general programming languages like Python will be a focus for future research. Still, their work represents a step forward for how language models can facilitate increasingly elaborate coding activities.

Ada: Natural language guides AI task planning

Just like in programming, AI models that automate multi-step tasks in households and command-based video games lack abstractions. Imagine you’re cooking breakfast and ask your roommate to bring a hot egg to the table — they’ll intuitively abstract their background knowledge about cooking in your kitchen into a sequence of actions. In contrast, an LLM trained on similar information will still struggle to reason about what they need to build a flexible plan.

Named after the famed mathematician Ada Lovelace, who many consider the world’s first programmer, the CSAIL-led “Ada” framework makes headway on this issue by developing libraries of useful plans for virtual kitchen chores and gaming. The method trains on potential tasks and their natural language descriptions, then a language model proposes action abstractions from this dataset. A human operator scores and filters the best plans into a library, so that the best possible actions can be implemented into hierarchical plans for different tasks.

“Traditionally, large language models have struggled with more complex tasks because of problems like reasoning about abstractions,” says Ada lead researcher Lio Wong, an MIT graduate student in brain and cognitive sciences, CSAIL affiliate, and LILO coauthor. “But we can combine the tools that software engineers and roboticists use with LLMs to solve hard problems, such as decision-making in virtual environments.”

When the researchers incorporated the widely-used large language model GPT-4 into Ada, the system completed more tasks in a kitchen simulator and Mini Minecraft than the AI decision-making baseline “Code as Policies.” Ada used the background information hidden within natural language to understand how to place chilled wine in a cabinet and craft a bed. The results indicated a staggering 59 and 89 percent task accuracy improvement, respectively.

With this success, the researchers hope to generalize their work to real-world homes, with the hopes that Ada could assist with other household tasks and aid multiple robots in a kitchen. For now, its key limitation is that it uses a generic LLM, so the CSAIL team wants to apply a more powerful, fine-tuned language model that could assist with more extensive planning. Wong and her colleagues are also considering combining Ada with a robotic manipulation framework fresh out of CSAIL: LGA (language-guided abstraction).

Language-guided abstraction: Representations for robotic tasks

Andi Peng SM ’23, an MIT graduate student in electrical engineering and computer science and CSAIL affiliate, and her coauthors designed a method to help machines interpret their surroundings more like humans, cutting out unnecessary details in a complex environment like a factory or kitchen. Just like LILO and Ada, LGA has a novel focus on how natural language leads us to those better abstractions.

In these more unstructured environments, a robot will need some common sense about what it’s tasked with, even with basic training beforehand. Ask a robot to hand you a bowl, for instance, and the machine will need a general understanding of which features are important within its surroundings. From there, it can reason about how to give you the item you want. 

In LGA’s case, humans first provide a pre-trained language model with a general task description using natural language, like “bring me my hat.” Then, the model translates this information into abstractions about the essential elements needed to perform this task. Finally, an imitation policy trained on a few demonstrations can implement these abstractions to guide a robot to grab the desired item.

Previous work required a person to take extensive notes on different manipulation tasks to pre-train a robot, which can be expensive. Remarkably, LGA guides language models to produce abstractions similar to those of a human annotator, but in less time. To illustrate this, LGA developed robotic policies to help Boston Dynamics’ Spot quadruped pick up fruits and throw drinks in a recycling bin. These experiments show how the MIT-developed method can scan the world and develop effective plans in unstructured environments, potentially guiding autonomous vehicles on the road and robots working in factories and kitchens.

“In robotics, a truth we often disregard is how much we need to refine our data to make a robot useful in the real world,” says Peng. “Beyond simply memorizing what’s in an image for training robots to perform tasks, we wanted to leverage computer vision and captioning models in conjunction with language. By producing text captions from what a robot sees, we show that language models can essentially build important world knowledge for a robot.”

The challenge for LGA is that some behaviors can’t be explained in language, making certain tasks underspecified. To expand how they represent features in an environment, Peng and her colleagues are considering incorporating multimodal visualization interfaces into their work. In the meantime, LGA provides a way for robots to gain a better feel for their surroundings when giving humans a helping hand. 

An “exciting frontier” in AI

“Library learning represents one of the most exciting frontiers in artificial intelligence, offering a path towards discovering and reasoning over compositional abstractions,” says assistant professor at the University of Wisconsin-Madison Robert Hawkins, who was not involved with the papers. Hawkins notes that previous techniques exploring this subject have been “too computationally expensive to use at scale” and have an issue with the lambdas, or keywords used to describe new functions in many languages, that they generate. “They tend to produce opaque ‘lambda salads,’ big piles of hard-to-interpret functions. These recent papers demonstrate a compelling way forward by placing large language models in an interactive loop with symbolic search, compression, and planning algorithms. This work enables the rapid acquisition of more interpretable and adaptive libraries for the task at hand.”

By building libraries of high-quality code abstractions using natural language, the three neurosymbolic methods make it easier for language models to tackle more elaborate problems and environments in the future. This deeper understanding of the precise keywords within a prompt presents a path forward in developing more human-like AI models.

MIT CSAIL members are senior authors for each paper: Joshua Tenenbaum, a professor of brain and cognitive sciences, for both LILO and Ada; Julie Shah, head of the Department of Aeronautics and Astronautics, for LGA; and Jacob Andreas, associate professor of electrical engineering and computer science, for all three. The additional MIT authors are all PhD students: Maddy Bowers and Theo X. Olausson for LILO, Jiayuan Mao and Pratyusha Sharma for Ada, and Belinda Z. Li for LGA. Muxin Liu of Harvey Mudd College was a coauthor on LILO; Zachary Siegel of Princeton University, Jaihai Feng of the University of California at Berkeley, and Noa Korneev of Microsoft were coauthors on Ada; and Ilia Sucholutsky, Theodore R. Sumers, and Thomas L. Griffiths of Princeton were coauthors on LGA. 

LILO and Ada were supported, in part, by ​​MIT Quest for Intelligence, the MIT-IBM Watson AI Lab, Intel, U.S. Air Force Office of Scientific Research, the U.S. Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, and the U.S. Office of Naval Research, with the latter project also receiving funding from the Center for Brains, Minds and Machines. LGA received funding from the U.S. National Science Foundation, Open Philanthropy, the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada, and the U.S. Department of Defense.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Airman From Rockcliffe Given Suspended Sentence," Ottawa Citizen. October 7, 1943. Page 12. --- Sgt. Joseph Gerlach, of the R.C.A.F., Rockcliffe repatriation center, was this morning given suspended sentence by Magistrate A. H. Lieff in county magistrate's court, after being found guilty of a charge of theft.

Gerlach attempted to steal a number of sheets, blankets and pillow slips from the Rockcliffe air station.

John O'Meara of Ottawa, who previously had pleaded guilty to a charge of indecent assault against a young woman, was sentenced to six months in jail to date from the time of his arrest on September 12.

[rowdyluv]

Say Yes - qh43

Summary: Quinn’s girlfriend attends the Hughes Bowl at Rogers Arena. She’s overtly in love with him (kind of annoying tbh) Quinn surprises her after the game.

Warnings: fluff, obsessy gf, eyes don’t leave bf, use of y/n, oc?

Word Count: 2.35k

Notes: I chose a random name for readers best friend. Ahem split second appearance of other nhler with bff. May or may not have successfully? wrote something.

In the hustling and bustling heart of Vancouver, nestled between the towering skyscrapers and the gentle caress of the Pacific sea breeze, stood the mighty Rogers Arena. Its gleaming exterior reflected the city's vibrant energy, a beacon of excitement that drew in locals and tourists alike. The chilly winter evening had descended, casting a soft glow upon the cobblestone streets, as the anticipation for the night's event grew palpable.

The Hughes Bowl also known as the Vancouver Canucks versus the New Jersey Devils

Inside the arena, the air was electric. The mouthwatering scent of popcorn and nachos mingled with the faint aroma of fresh lemonade and the mixture of alcohol in some areas. The thunderous roar of the crowd grew louder with every passing second, echoing through the vast space like a crescendo of anticipation.

Y/N and Mia, perched in the first row by the glass barrier, were surrounded by a sea of blue and green jerseys. A few red and black jerseys sprinkled in the mix. Guests in attendance dressed out were the die-hard fans, their eyes glued to the rink, where the players currently skated about in a blur of motion, warming up for the night’s showdown between the Canucks and the Devils.

When the lights had dimmed and both national anthems for Canada and the United States had a chance to play, a collective chorus of cheers fell over the stadium.

The spotlights that once bathed the ice in a soft multicolored glow lifted replaced with the bright white, and the players took their positions.

Quinn, was the center of y/n’s attention, his eyes focused and intense. He looked over at Y/N and Mia, flashing a quick smile that sent her heart racing. The puck dropped, and the game was underway.

Throughout the first period, Y/N did all she could to try and memorize every move Quinn made. An attempt to hold on to his years in the league for when they’re long over. His stick-handling was mesmerizing, a dance of precision and power that left the opposition scrambling. Whenever he checked one of his brothers, she held onto a strange mix of pride and protectiveness that swelled within her. She knew that behind the smiles and jovial rivalry, they were all fighting for the same thing: victory.

Leaning over to Mia, she whispered excitedly, "Did you see that? He totally outplayed them both! Jack and Luke!" Each time she spoke, her voice grew a little louder, the excitement spilling over like a fizzy drink. Mia, ever the supportive best friend, nodded and cheered along, even though she wasn't as versed in the nuances of the game. Y/N's eyes never left the ice when her love was on for a shift, captivated by the grace and strength of the man she loved.

Midway through the second period, Quinn scored a breathtaking goal through the goalie’s 5-hole. He spun around, stick in the air, as the crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers. Y/N's face lit up brighter than the goal lamp as she jumped to her feet, slapping the glass in exhilaration. Quinn skated to where she was sitting behind the glass. He blew her a kiss and yelled to her, “that was for you babygirl.” She turned to Mia, her eyes sparkling with pure joy, "I knew he was just as bad as you are!" Mia giggled, pulling her best friend in to a hug, the sound of their laughter lost in the deafening applause.

The game continued, each play more intense than the last. The tension grew as the score remained close, neither team willing to concede an inch of the ice. With every check, every pass, and every shot on net, Y/N felt her heart pound harder in her chest. Her eyes never left Quinn, not even when his brothers had the puck. It was as if she could feel his every move, his every breath. Her cheers grew louder, her hands slapping the glass more vigorously, leaving behind a smudge of her palm print like a silent applause.

In the third period, the game reached a fever pitch. The crowd was on the edge of their seats, a symphony of hope and nerves. The Devils had managed to tie the game, and the Canucks were desperate to pull ahead. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and the metallic tang of fear. With minutes to go, Quinn stole the puck from his youngest brother, breaking away on a two-on-one. The arena held its collective breath as he streaked down the ice, the sound of his skates slicing through the frozen surface like a knife through butter.

Y/N's eyes were glued to him, her heart racing in her chest. The play unfolded before her in slow motion, every second stretching into an eternity. Quinn passed the puck to his teammate, who whipped it back to him with the grace of a ballet dancer. The goalie saw it coming, but it was too late. Quinn's shot was a rocket, flying straight into the top corner of the net. The arena erupted into a frenzy of cheers and the sound of thousands of hands clapping together in unison. The goal lamp flashed red, the buzzer sounded, Quinn’s media tape looped on the scoreboard. His teammates rushed him for a celebration. Y/n was watching in awe of her man. Mia was watching her best friend in happy wonder.

Mia nudged her, "Looks like you got yourself a star player!" she said, her voice barely audible over the din. Y/N nodded, her smile so wide it hurt. She felt like she was floating, the adrenaline from the goal still pulsing through her veins. The final buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game. The score was 3-2 in favor of the Canucks. The arena echoed with the chant of "Quinn! Quinn! Quinn!" She could see the pure elation on his face as he skated over to her, the grin stretching from ear to ear. He tapped the glass, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Quinn had the last scoring game puck in his hand. He had already wrote on it and brought it straight to her, he pointed up towards the top of the barrier and then to her, a silent message he was tossing it to her. With a flick of his wrist, he flung it over, sending it soaring through the air. Time seemed to slow as it spun, a perfect arc of twisting team logos and black against the vibrant backdrop of the cheering crowd. Y/N's hand shot up, her palm open and ready to receive it. The puck smacked into her palm with a satisfying thud, the residual ice shavings from the game still clinging to it.

The crowd's roar grew even louder as they noticed the gesture, the cameras flashing from the stands and the Jumbotron spotlighted on her, capturing her disbelief and pure happiness. She clutched the puck to her chest, feeling its coldness against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth flooding her cheeks. The moment was surreal, a memory she knew she'd cherish forever. She mouthed a silent "thank you" to Quinn, who was already being dragged away by his teammates for an impromptu interview.

As the players filed off the ice, the tension in the arena didn't dissipate. Instead, it transformed into a buzz of excitement and congratulations. Y/N watched Quinn closely, her eyes tracing his every move as he was interviewed, his voice steady and humble despite the victory. He talked about teamwork and the importance of family, never failing to mention his brothers and their shared love for the sport. Her heart bursting with pride as she heard him speak, his words resonating with the audience.

Finally, the moment came. The Zamboni glided onto the ice, smoothing out the battleground where Quinn had just claimed victory. He skated over to the bench, his gaze seeking hers through the throngs of people. She waved, the puck still clutched in her hand, a symbol of his triumph. He pointed at her, then at the locker room, signaling for her to wait for him. The crowd began to disperse, the blue and green jerseys forming rivers of humanity that flowed through the arena's exits.

Y/N and Mia remained in their seats before heading down to wait outside of the locker room, the excitement still coursing through them like an electric current. They chatted animatedly about the game, replaying Quinn's heroics in their minds, their voices a mix of disbelief and pride. As the last of the fans trickled out, the arena staff started prepare for the post-game cleanup.

The doors to the locker room finally swung open, and the players began to emerge, their faces flushed from exertion and their eyes gleaming with the adrenaline of victory. Quinn spotted Y/N immediately, his grin growing even wider when he saw the puck in her hand. His strides to her were urgent and quick, the sound of his skates, that were hanging off the side of his bag, clanking against one another echoing through the now-quiet corridor. He was dressed back in his game day suit, no tie, but perfectly put together.

Y/N looked up at him, her confusion palpable. "Why aren't you in your comfy clothes?" she questioned, gesturing to his suit.

Quinn chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "I had to make an impression, didn't I?" He leaned down, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Besides, I had a surprise for you."

Y/N turned the puck over in her hand, her eyes widening as she read the message scrawled in black sharpie. "Best game of my life," it read, "make it better by saying yes." Her cheeks flushed, and she looked up at him, her eyes filling with unshed tears as he’s down on one knee. "Quinn, this is..."

"It’s crazy, yes but I couldn't wait. You're it for me, you're everything. And after that game, playing against my brothers, I just know this is right." His voice was earnest, his gaze unwavering as he pulled out a small velvet box. “Yes I know in front of the locker room isn’t ideal, but I just had the best game I’ve had in months, I finally beat my brothers. You’re the girl of my dreams and I can’t hold onto this any longer because I’m afraid the yahoos behind you will let it out while they’re here. So baby, please will you marry me?” Quinn asks tears of love in his eyes.

Y/N felt as if the world had stopped spinning. She looked down at the box in his hand, her heart racing like a bullet train. She assumed this was coming later on in life, but she never expected it to happen here, in the lower interior of the arena she had watched him play in so many times before. An indescribable warmth spread through her, expansive spread across her from her toes to her fingertips. She looked into his eyes, her voice shaking with raw emotion, "Yes, Quinn. Yes, I'll marry you."

The words hung in the air, suspended for a moment before reality crashed back in. The locker room doors opened wider, and his remaining teammates spilled out, cheering and clapping. They had been waiting for this moment, and now it was here. Quinn slipped the ring onto her finger, the diamond sparkling under the harsh fluorescent lights. It fit perfectly, as if it had been made just for her. She couldn't help but admire it, the way it caught the light and danced across her skin. Y/n turned to Jack and Luke to greet the brothers she was unaware were there until Quinn said something, but instead was met by Jim and Ellen.

“You’ll officially be our daughter!” Ellen saps pulling y/n into a hug.

“Can’t wait to have another female Hughesy!” Jim laughed with her, ruffling up her hair.

Y/n’s eyes are misty with happy tears. She hadn’t seen this coming like this at all, she had thought maybe it would happen in a year or two but not now.

It doesn’t matter the timing, Quinn is forever hers and she’s forever his.

“Quinn, This, here. It’s perfect.” She says, her voice full of wonder and love. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. So it is ideal. Don’t worry about what it looks like.”

Quinn broke away from Elias and Brock’s playful teasing, his smile growing as he wrapped her in a warm embrace. The cheers of his teammates and the small gathering of family erupting once more, but all Y/N could hear was the steady beat of his heart against her chest. He leaned down, cupping her face in his hands, and kissed her.

It was a kiss filled with the passion of a thousand suns, the promise of a lifetime together, and the sweetness of a love that had only grown stronger with each passing day. His lips were gentle yet firm, a declaration of his love and commitment. Hers responded eagerly, her arms snaking around his neck, the coldness of the ice forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Mia had been standing off to the side watching her best friend happily. As the couple kissed she muttered to what she thought was just herself “I’m so painfully single.”

“You and me both. Hi, name is Nico. Captain of the New Jersey Devils.”

[pandapetals]

Cage Fight

logan howlett x fem!reader - cage fighting, fighting, sabertooth appearance, slight au of x1, brooding logan, no mention of description of reader, no use of Y/N.

Xavier has sent you, Storm and Scott to find the infamous Wolverine.

read on Ao3

The biting cold of the Canadian wilderness gnawed at your skin, the wind cutting through your jacket as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. Snowflakes clung to your hair and eyelashes, and the world around you was an endless stretch of white, broken only by the small town ahead, barely visible through the swirling flurries.

“This is brutal,” you muttered under your breath, trying to suppress the shivers that rattled through your body. “Couldn’t Xavier have picked a warmer place to send us?”

Ororo, her silver hair catching in the wind, glanced at you. Her eyes briefly flashed white as she used her powers to ease the snowstorm around you. “He wouldn’t have sent us here if it wasn’t important,” she said, her voice calm, though you could see the concern in her expression. “We need to find this mutant before Magneto does.”

Scott, walking ahead, his visor gleaming against the stark white snow, nodded. “If Sabretooth finds him first, it’s over. We can’t let Magneto get his hands on him.”

You didn’t argue. You knew the stakes. But still, Canada? In the middle of winter? You had to admit, it wasn’t your ideal location for mutant hunting. Not by a long shot.

The three of you trudged through the snow until you reached the small town Xavier had pinpointed—a forgotten speck on the map, where, according to intel, a powerful mutant had been laying low. Xavier had described the mutant: Dangerous. Animalistic. A survivor.

And according to Xavier, Magneto wanted him.

You walked through the town, its dim streetlights flickering against the harsh snowstorm. Eventually, the muffled sound of cheers and shouts drifted through the cold air, drawing your attention to a dingy, run-down bar at the edge of the street. The light spilling from the windows was warm and inviting, but the noise coming from inside told a different story.

You exchanged a glance with Ororo and Scott. “That’s gotta be the place,” Scott said, his voice low, eyes narrowed behind his visor.

Without hesitation, the three of you made your way inside, the warmth of the bar hitting you like a wave after the relentless cold. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, beer, and something metallic—blood. Your eyes adjusted to the dim light, scanning the room as the source of the noise came into view.

In the center of the bar was a cage—an old, rusted structure that looked barely stable. Inside, two men were fighting, their bodies slick with sweat, each strike echoing through the room like thunder. The crowd around them roared with approval, fists pumping in the air, money exchanging hands as bets were made.

It wasn’t the chaos of the crowd that caught your attention—it was the man inside the cage. He was taller than you’d imagined, his broad shoulders straining against the fabric of his undershirt, muscles rippling as he dodged a blow from his opponent. His hair was dark, wild, and his face was set in a fierce snarl, but his eyes—hazel and intense—flashed with something far more dangerous than anger.

There was no mistaking it. This was the mutant Xavier had sent you to find.

“That’s him,” Scott muttered, his voice barely audible over the noise. “That’s the guy.”

“Wolverine,” Ororo said, her gaze fixed on the man in the cage. “He’s the one Magneto’s after.”

As you watched him move, there was a raw, primal power in his every action, his fists connecting with his opponent’s body with a force that sent the man flying into the cage walls. Then, as if sensing your presence, his eyes flicked up—straight to you.

For a split second, time seemed to slow. His gaze locked with yours, and something electric crackled in the air between you. You couldn’t explain it, but in that moment, everything else in the room fell away—the noise, the crowd, even the biting cold that still clung to your skin. It was just you and him, staring at each other across the room, the space between you suddenly too small, too charged.

A shiver ran down your spine. There was something about him—something dangerous, yes—but also something magnetic. It had your heart racing faster than it should’ve.

Logan—Wolverine—narrowed his eyes at you, his chest heaving with breath, but his focus was entirely on you. He didn’t look away, even when his opponent staggered to his feet behind him, barely managing to stand.

“Shit,” Scott muttered, already moving toward the cage. “We need to get him out of here.”

Before any of you could react, the cage fight came to a brutal end. With a swift, calculated movement, Logan delivered the final blow, sending his opponent crashing to the floor in a heap. The crowd erupted into boos, and Logan didn’t revel in the victory. His eyes remained locked on yours, his expression unreadable, but his intensity unmistakable.

As he stepped out of the cage, wiping the blood from his knuckles, a young girl caught your attention from the corner of the room. She was sitting at a table, her hood pulled low over her face, watching the fight with wide eyes. You recognized her from Xavier’s files. Marie. Rogue. She had been hiding, too—another mutant Xavier had warned you to keep an eye out for.

Logan moved toward her, but his gaze flicked back to you, lingering as if he was trying to figure you out. The room seemed to close in, the air between you thick with tension, and as he came closer, you could feel that pull again—that invisible thread connecting you to him, drawing you in.

“You’re not from around here,” he said gruffly, his voice low and gravelly, but there was an edge of curiosity in it as his eyes flickered over you.

“No,” you replied, meeting his gaze head-on. “And neither are you.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “What gave it away?”

You felt a small smile tug at your lips despite the situation, but before you could respond, Scott stepped forward, breaking the moment.

“Wolverine,” Scott said, his tone all business. “We need to talk.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to Scott, then back to you, his expression hardening. “I don’t talk to people I don’t know.”

“We’re here because Magneto is after you,” Ororo said, her voice calm but urgent. “You need to come with us.”

Logan glanced at Rogue, then back at you, clearly torn between staying and listening—or walking away. “Magneto, huh?” he muttered, his tone laced with suspicion. “What’s a Magento?”

Scott stepped forward, his jaw tight. “We can explain everything, but not here.”

Logan’s eyes darted back to you once more, the connection between you still simmering beneath the surface. Then, with a grunt, he turned away, motioning for Rogue to follow him. “Alright. I’ll hear you out. But I ain’t promising anything.”

As you followed him out of the bar, the cold air hit you again, but this time, the bite didn’t seem so sharp. Your mind was still reeling from the intensity of Logan’s gaze, the electricity that had passed between you.

Outside the bar, the biting cold returned with full force, but the tension between Logan and Scott was even colder. Logan’s broad shoulders were tense, his eyes flicking from Scott to Ororo and back to you, his jaw set like he was ready for a fight. Marie stood a few steps behind him, nervously pulling her hood tighter around her face.

Scott, standing tall and rigid, clearly didn’t appreciate Logan’s resistance. “Look, Wolverine—Logan—this isn’t a negotiation. Magneto’s coming for you, and if Sabretooth gets to you first, you won’t get a second chance to argue.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. He took a step closer, his posture more menacing now like a caged animal sizing up its next move. “I don’t take orders from anyone. Least of all some pretty boy in red glasses who thinks he knows what’s best for me.”

Scott’s jaw clenched. “I’m trying to save your life.”

Logan gave a low, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “I’ve been saving my own life for years, bub. I don’t need your help.”

You could feel the hostility brewing between them, thick in the icy air. Scott had a point, and you all knew Logan was in real danger, but his defiance was written all over his face. He wasn’t about to be dragged anywhere, not with someone like Scott barking orders at him.

Ororo stepped forward, her tone calm, but her voice carrying authority. “We don’t have time for this. Sabretooth is already looking for you, Logan. If Magneto gets his hands on you, you’ll be used as a weapon. Xavier sent us here to help you.”

Logan’s gaze flickered to Ororo, but then his eyes found you again, softer this time. There was a glimmer of curiosity behind the defiance as if he was trying to figure out why you were here—what made you different from the others.

“Logan, please,” you said, taking a step toward him. You could feel that pull again, the strange, undeniable connection that had sparked the moment you first locked eyes in the bar. “We’re not here to control you. We’re trying to help. Rogue could use your help too.”

Logan glanced over his shoulder at Marie, and for a moment, his hard expression softened. Marie shifted nervously but nodded. “Maybe… maybe it’s not such a bad idea,” she said, her voice small but steady. “I mean, if they’re offering to protect us, why not take it?”

Logan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his wild hair. “I don’t trust this.”

Scott opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could, Logan’s eyes snapped to the tree line, his body going still. You saw it too—movement in the shadows, barely visible against the thick white snow. Something was out there.

Suddenly, the quiet of the night shattered.

A blur of fur and muscle came barreling out of the darkness, and before anyone could react, Sabretooth was upon you, his massive form towering over the group. He moved with terrifying speed, a low growl rumbling deep in his throat as his claws slashed toward Logan.

“Get down!” Scott shouted, already reaching for his visor, but it was too late.

Logan spun just in time, his claws unsheathing with a sharp SNIKT, meeting Sabretooth’s attack head-on. The impact sent both men crashing into the snow, their claws flashing as they traded brutal blows, growls and snarls echoing in the air. Sabretooth’s strength was monstrous, but Logan fought like a man who had nothing to lose; his movements were precise and lethal, and his years of experience were evident in every swing.

“Stay back!” Ororo shouted, her eyes going white as she raised her arms, summoning a gust of wind that whipped through the trees, pushing the snow back and giving you all room to move.

You grabbed Rogue’s arm, pulling her behind you, trying to shield her from the chaos. “Get to the jet!” you called to Scott, who was already firing a blast of optic energy at Sabretooth, forcing him back a few steps.

Sabretooth was relentless. He shrugged off the hit with a snarl, his eyes locked on Logan, filled with bloodlust. “You can’t run forever,” he growled, his voice dripping with malice. “Magneto’s gonna get what he wants.”

Logan’s eyes blazed with fury, his claws glinting in the pale light as he slashed at Sabretooth’s chest, leaving deep gashes in the beast’s skin. “I’m not running.”

Sabretooth lunged again, but this time, Logan was ready. With a swift movement, he sidestepped the attack and slammed Sabretooth into a nearby tree with bone-crunching force. The ground shook beneath you as the tree splintered from the impact.

Scott fired another blast from his visor, hitting Sabretooth in the side and sending him skidding across the snow. “Go!” Scott shouted at you. “Get her to the jet!”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing Rogue’s hand, you ran toward the jet, your heart pounding in your chest as the sounds of the fight echoed behind you. You could hear Logan’s grunts, Sabretooth’s growls, and the crackle of energy as Ororo summoned another gust of wind to keep the battlefield under control.

Just as you and Rogue reached the edge of the treeline, you heard a deafening roar.

You whipped around just in time to see Sabretooth throw Logan into the snow, the beast’s claws raised high, ready to strike. Logan’s breath was ragged, his body battered, but there was no fear in his eyes. Only fury.

Before Sabretooth could land the final blow, Scott hit him with another optic blast, this time sending him flying through the air and crashing into a boulder. The force of the impact shook the ground, and Sabretooth lay still, momentarily stunned.

Logan staggered to his feet, his claws retracting as he looked over at you and Rogue. His eyes locked on yours again, the tension from earlier replaced by something deeper—something raw. He was hurt, bleeding, but still standing.

“We need to go. Now,” Ororo called, her voice cutting through the chaos as she gestured toward the jet.

Logan hesitated, looking at you, then at Rogue, before finally giving a sharp nod. “Fine. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The four of you hurried toward the jet, Sabretooth’s body still lying in the snow behind you. As you climbed the ramp, you glanced back one last time at the destruction left in his wake.

Logan was the last to board, his eyes flicking to you once more, something unreadable passing between you. That connection, that spark, still lingered in the air, stronger now after the chaos.

“Guess I’m comin’ with you after all,” Logan muttered as he stepped onto the jet, his voice rough but edged with something softer. He glanced at Rogue, then back at you, his eyes lingering just a little longer. “For now.”

You smiled, breathless from the adrenaline, your heart still pounding. “Glad to have you.”

Logan just grunted, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he took his seat, the tension between you far from resolved but now laced with something else—something neither of you could ignore.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1973 Dodge Monaco

On this date, August 7th, in 1980, "The Blues Brothers" was released.

"It's got a cop motor, a 440-cubic-inch plant. It's got cop tires, cop suspension, cop shocks. It's a model made before catalytic converters so it'll run good on regular gas."

The film used 13 different cars bought at auction from the California Highway Patrol to depict the retired 1974 Mount Prospect, Illinois Dodge Monaco patrol car that would affectionately become known as The Bluesmobile. The vehicles were outfitted by the studio to do particular driving chores; some were customized for speed and others for jumps, depending on the scene. For the large car chases, filmmakers purchased 60 police cars at $400 each, and most were destroyed at the completion of the filming. More than 40 stunt drivers were hired, and the crew kept a 24-hour body shop to repair cars.

According to Dan Aykroyd, the horn-shaped loudspeaker atop the Bluesmobile was actually a duplicate of a massive Cold War-era air raid siren (CLM Model 92729DP) installed in the schoolyard at Our Lady of Annunciation where Aykroyd attended elementary school while growing up in Ottawa, Canada. The siren was manufactured by a Canadian company called CLM Industries, and Aykroyd specifically requested the same CLM model be used in the movie to portray the loudspeaker the characters affixed to the top of the Bluesmobile and used as a public address system.

Director John Landis has claimed that the portion of the final chase sequence beneath the elevated train tracks, which briefly showed a reading of 118 miles per hour on the car's speedometer, was actually filmed at that speed, a testament to the Monaco's police car heritage. He has also stated that he re-shot some of the scenes with pedestrians on the sidewalks, so viewers could see that the film had not been sped up to create the effect of speed.

For the scene when the Blues Brothers finally arrive at the Richard J. Daley Center, a mechanic took several months to rig the car to fall apart.

At the time of its release, "The Blues Brothers" held the world record for the most cars destroyed in one film until it was surpassed by a single car in its 1998 sequel. (Wikipedia)

[confused-rat]

Thoughts on this?

https://www.tumblr.com/lily-orchard-stuff/757954445061570560/excuse-me-if-this-is-out-of-line-but-youve

Oh wow, really? I remember watching 6teen myself—how could I have missed something like that—

Oh. Okay then. Milestone sure, but one half the people who watched it didn’t even know about because it was censored in the US for being gay. Almost like, homophobic channel heads were still in power and creators still had to actively fight to get their untampered products on the air. 🤔

It’s almost like they’re from a different fucking country with different laws, censors, and broadcasting companies.

Does Lily not realize why exactly Korrasami was particularly praised for its LGBT inclusion?

It’s because they canonized a gay relationship when gay marriage still wasn’t fucking legal in the US.

and wow, look at that, Loud House’s first gay couple showed up after Korra.

I enjoy watching Loud House, don’t get me wrong, they really are great with their rep, but when it first started airing, Clyde’s dads were background. They weren’t the focus of the show. This isn’t some wanime snobbery — SU, She-Ra, and Owl House had their LGBT stuff front and center. Loud House also included some great LGBT focused episodes later on, and it’s sad people don’t talk about it more (maybe because of the drama surrounding the og creator, maybe because it’s a sitcom, like damn, it’s not people’s fault if they do like action stuff more).

And again, Loud House probably didn’t have to fight tooth and nail for their inclusion, correct me if I’m wrong, but the praise and flack Nickelodeon got for Korra probably gave the channel heads a good enough idea of what to expect from the public for them to greenlight Loud House’s gay characters.

So to reiterate, it took “wanime” US cartoons longer to reach a point Canadian cartoons had reach because Canada legalized gay marriages in 2005 while the US didn’t until 2016.

Also, oh my god shut up about the coffin of Andy and LeyLey, oh my god shut up shut up shut up, stop thinking that copying the art style is the ultimate mic drop on incest debates, oh my god, you don’t even really understand the characters right, oh my god.

Also, also — does anyone else think it’s really fucking weird to call LGBT rep/content a trend? She sounds like a homophobic grandmother. “All this gay stuff is just a trend wah wah wah—“

[thatchickwiththecamera]

If I'm There

This is from a request sent to me by @lma1986

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Female Reader

TW: Death, Loss, Grief.  

Any and all feedback is appreciated!

Y/N groaned upon entering the hotel room and flung her body onto the crisply made king sized bed. The pelican case she had been holding was discarded somewhere along her journey. Noah, her boyfriend of two years, simply smiled at her antics as he rolled their remaining bags into the entryway. 

Noah’s band, Bad Omens, had just wrapped up their latest North American tour with a four day run of shows across central and eastern Canada. Y/N was a member of the band’s visuals team and worked as the lighting and video technician alongside Matt at Front of House. Her and Noah met four years ago when she was running visuals for one of the bands supporting Bad Omens on tour. 

Noah, Matt, and Nicholas liked her work and decided to extend an offer to join their growing team prior to the next tour. After two years of working with Bad Omens and two years of tip-toeing around shared feelings, Noah finally asked her on a date and as they say, the rest is history. 

With this tour coming to a close, it meant that they had the next two weeks off to do whatever they wanted before the guys had to be back in Los Angeles to finish tracking the new album. Everyone was scheduled to fly back to their respective home states at various times throughout the next day. While all of the gear was to be freighted back to the LA to either be stored in the warehouse until the next tour or to be moved into the awaiting studio space for recording. 

“I am so ready to sleep in my own bed,” She exclaimed, voice slightly muffled by the pillows. “I think the mattresses in the bunks are getting worse with each tour.”

“Either that or we’re just finally starting to feel older.” he said, flopping down next to her, “I mean, we are almost thirty.” 

“Don’t remind me.” She groans.

Before she can raise the question of who gets first dibs at the shower, she is interrupted by the familiar sound of her sister’s ringtone chirping from the phone in the front pocket of her hoodie. 

“Yellow!” She tiredly exclaims, placing the phone on speaker. 

“Y/N” the serious tone of her sister's voice cuts through the speaker. 

She immediately sits up and looks over at Noah, now sporting a concerned look on his face that she was sure matched her own. 

Her sister rarely called her by her first name. Mainly using childhood nicknames. Never her given name. 

“What’s wrong?” Y/N questions. 

“Y/N…it's Olivia.” Her sister continued, voice shaky. “There’s been an accident.”

She went on to explain that Olivia, Y/N’s best friend since as long as she could remember, had been hit head on by a drunk driver on her way home from dinner with friends from work. She had been rushed to the local trauma center where the medical team had managed to stabilize her but they stated that the next 24 hours were going to be critical. 

Noah was immediately on the phone with Matt, who five minutes later knocked on their door ready to drive them to the airport. 

The small airport chapel was dark and empty. The smell of incense lingered in the air from a Mass held earlier in the day. Y/N sat quietly in the last pew staring up at the large crucifix hanging on the wall above the altar and tabernacle. 

Despite eventually developing a vehement disinterest in organized religion as an adult, Y/N had been raised in the Bible Belt of the deep south and had grown up in and out of church as a child and young adult. She had witnessed and experienced enough over the course of her life that made her unable to completely let go of the notion that there was a greater power at play somewhere in the universe. 

Her grandmother always expressed belief in the power of prayer and when her usual sage advice fell on the deaf ears of a stubborn teenager, she always told Y/N to ultimately pray about it. 

“Give it up to God,” she would say, “Put it in his hands.” 

There were no direct flights out of Toronto, which left them stuck at JFK in New York City for the next three hours due to a layover. Noah’s many years on the road made it possible for him to sleep pretty much anywhere despite his tall frame. But her anxiety prevented her from finding any respite of sleep on the uncomfortable metal chairs outside the gate. 

Which is why she now found herself sitting in the Our Lady of the Skies chapel talking to a wooden crucifix. 

“I don’t know how to talk to you or if you even are actually there and listening,” She states, eyes stinging from the tears that threatened to form, “But at this point I’m desperate.”

“If there is one person in this lifetime that deserves to live a long and fulfilling life it is her,” she continued, “she can be one of the most naive people I know, but she has only ever brought kindness and love into this world because of it.” 

“You’ve already taken so many from me…,” she pleads, unable to hold back the tears as a few escape and trail down her cheeks. “Please don’t take her too.” 

A moment later she felt the warmth of an arm wrap around her and turned to see Noah sit down next to her, their carry-ons bags sitting on the floor in the aisle next to the pew. 

She buried her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, placed a tender kiss on her head and held her close as she finally let the tears pour out. 

Upon landing in South Carolina, Y/N's sister met them at baggage claim. She looked as tired and spread thin as Y/N did. She knew just how much Olivia meant to her little sister, and also considered her a good friend. But her bond of friendship was no wear near as unbreakable as the one that had been built between Olivia and Y/N over the years.

She wrapped Y/N up into a tight hug and let her know that Olivia had been rushed back into emergency surgery about an hour before they had landed. They had found internal bleeding that was previously missed due to the severity of the initial trauma sustained in the crash, causing her previously stable condition to quickly deteriorate. 

Upon arriving at Columbia Memorial Hospital, they quickly located Olivia’s parents in the waiting room outside the Intensive Care Unit. Olivia’s mother, Mary grabbed Y/N in a  bone crushing hug the second she saw her, thanking them for coming as quickly as they did. She followed the band and knew the journey they had made to be there. Before they could speak further, a man dressed in surgical scrubs emerged from the large bay door. She felt Noah take her hand and give it a squeeze.

Mary walked over to the doctor. He grabbed her hands and shook his head. Y/N couldn’t hear the words he spoke, but Mary’s reaction to them told her all she needed to know. 

Olivia was gone.

Y/N felt numb. She felt her emotions shut down. She wanted to cry, to scream, to fall to her knees but her body just remained frozen in place for what felt like an eternity. Noah’s hand never left hers and his grip never faltered.

They briefly expressed their condolences to Mary and other member’s of their family before leaving them space to grieve. There was no reason for them to stay at the hospital while Mary began the heartbreaking task of preparing for her only child’s funeral. 

The drive to her sister’s house was silent. She showed Y/N and Noah to the guest room and left them to unpack and prepare for bed. 

Y/N found little sleep that night. As sunlight began to stream in through the bedroom window, she turned to peer at the clock on the nightstand. 

It read 6:00am. She quietly rose so as not to disturb Noah’s sleeping form in the bed next to her. She quickly dressed, grabbed her sneakers, and headed out the front door. 

Y/N ran. 

She ran until her lungs felt like broken shards of glass. 

She ran until her legs felt like they were made of jello.

She ran until her feet were numb and weighed heavy like cinder blocks.

In school, she ran after her first heartbreak, she ran when her father died of cancer, she ran when her mother became absent in her own grief leaving her and her sister to fend for themselves, until she would eventually pass as well. 

She ran when all of life's problems seemed to pile up as high as the peaks of Mount Everest and bare down on her shoulders. 

When life didn’t make sense, Y/N ran. 

Olivia had always been the one to run with her. When her own body would grow tired she would remain on the bench at the trailhead of the old high school cross country course, making sure Y/N knew she wasn’t alone. 

But now Olivia was gone and the bench by the trailhead sat empty save for the water bottle Y/N had discarded at the start of her run. She tried to ignore the empty spot as she set out on her second loop. 

As she circled around again she spotted a second water bottle sitting next to hers on the bench. She felt the already growing agitation stir inside her further at the idea of having to interact with a stranger on the course. She prayed they would just run their route and leave her alone. 

Halfway through her third loop she heard the sound of another person coming up from behind her and expected them to call out what side they would be passing her and continue their run. 

Instead the person fell into stride next to her. She turned her head, ready to tell the stranger to politely fuck off, but stopped when she saw Noah running next to her.

He didn’t say anything, just kept running, never leaving her side as they continued to complete two more loops. He knew this was something she had to do, and despite his own fatigue, he wasn’t going to let her do it alone. 

Toward the end of her fifth loop, she felt her legs start to give way. Her toes snagged on a root sticking up in the middle of the path and she waited for her body to hit the dirt. She thought that maybe she would just lay there for a while and let the earth swallow her whole, but the impact never came. 

Instead she felt Noah wrap his arms around her. Pulling her firmly into his chest. The weight of everything she tried to hold inside started to fracture and crumble around her. The emotion she tried to run from rebounded back like a lightning bolt striking her directly in the heart. She thrashed against his hold and hit the bottom of her fists against his chest. 

She screamed out in rage as the hot tears streamed down her face. But despite her best attempts at getting him to let go, his hold remained firm. Noah was sure that his chest was red by the time she finally relaxed in his arms. He took the opportunity to kneel down and scooped the sobbing figure of the woman he loved into his arms. She didn’t have the energy to protest as he carefully carried her home. 

The funeral took place four days later. It was held at St. Joseph's Cathedral downtown where four generations of Olivia’s family had been baptized, confirmed, married, and eulogized. She could not deny that the Mass her family prepared had been beautiful despite Y/N not knowing much about the ways and traditions of the Catholic Church. 

After the service, Mary came up to the both of them and thanked them again for traveling back like they did and for staying for the service. 

“You were the closest thing Olivia had to a sister and even though it may not have seemed like it at times, you were and still are like my second child.” She stated. “Thank you for being her friend and being in our lives.” 

Tears once again formed in her eyes as Mary pulled her in for one of her soul squeezing motherly hugs that Y/N learned to cherish over the years. 

“I love you so much” she said, reaching up to grab either side of Y/N’s face, wiping away the tears with the pads of her thumbs. “And I am so proud of you.”

“I love you too.” Y/N replied, before hugging the woman once again. 

The next day they were scheduled to fly back to LA, but not before visiting Olivia’s grave. It was covered in layers of floral arrangements and marked by a temporary placard with ‘Olivia Renee Barber” and her dates of birth and death engraved on dark metal. 

Noah stayed back as Y/N paid her respects. He wished that he could take all of her grief and carry it on his own shoulders so she didn’t have to weather the burden. He knew from his own experiences that she had to go through this process at her own pace. Loss was not linear and there were no magical boxes to check as you grieve and heal.

There was one thing he knew for absolute certain. As long as he was around, she would never go through anything in this world alone. He’d be there to catch her when she’d fall and just as he knew she’d do the same for him in return.

[tiredwitchplant]

Everything You Need to Know About Crystals: Amethyst

Amethyst (“The World’s Most Popular Purple Gem”)

Color: Dark Vivid Purple to Pale Lilac

Hardness: 7

Rarity: Easy to Acquire

Type: Quartz

Chakra Association: Third Eye, Crown

Deities: Buddha, Dionysus, Diana, Artemis

Birthstone: February

Astrological Signs: Pisces, Aries and Aquarius

Element: Air

Planet: Jupiter

Origin: USA, Britain, Canada, Brazil, Mexico, Russia, Sri Lanka, Uruguay, East Africa, Siberia, India

Powers: Pride, Sobriety, Peace, Spirit World, Protection, Celibacy, Luck, and Homesickness

Crystals It Works Well With: Ametrine, Citrine, and Moonstone

How It Is Created: Amethyst receives its color beginning at the crystal’s growth. At the first stage, trace amounts of iron are incorporated into the crystal as it starts to grow. After the crystallization starts, gamma rays are emitted by radioactive materials within the host rock and the irradiated iron gives the amethyst its beautiful purple color.

History: One of the earliest references to amethyst is in the Old Testament book of Exodus as it is mentioned that one of the stones in the breastplate of Aaron the High Priest was an amethyst. There is not a clear indication to where the name comes from but it is said that it is derived from the Greek word “amethyst” which means “not drunk”. Despite this, it is associated with the god, Dionysus, because the purple hue of the crystal looks like delicious grape wine. Wine goblets were carved of this stone to prevent drunkenness. There is also a Greek lore involving Dionysus with a young girl named Amethyst. The lore reads:

“Dionysus was angry one day and swore that he would exact his revenge on the next mortal that came by. He created several tigers, informed him of their mission and went his way. As it would happen, a lovely young girl named Amethyst was the next to come by, on her way to pay homage to Artemis and was attacked. Artemis quickly changed the girl into a statue of solid quartz. When Dionysus returned to see what he had wrought, he was overcome with remorse and wept tears of purple wine which flowed over the statue, staining it permanently.”

The color was also in demand throughout history since the color purple is associated with royalty and was worn by royals in Egypt and Europe. In some traditions, Catholic Bishops wear amethyst rings to symbolize their piety and celibacy, and rosaries are still fashioned with this stone.

What It Can Do:

Excellent focal point for meditation and scrying

Used to unlock mysteries and figure out spiritual matters, such as death and rebirth

Helps cleanses, purify and heal the body, spirit, and mind

Balances emotions and prevents nightmares

Useful for spells to help let go of addictions

Uses on the tip of wands for healing and can produce high spiritual energy

Brings a sense of calm and clarity

Helps with decision making

Can open your third eye and connect to the crown chakra

Protects the mind from dark magic

A gateway stone to connecting with the spirit world

Helps with transmitting energies to a specific point

How to Get the Best Out of Amethyst: Wearing it on your person with a bracelet or necklace. Putting amethyst on bare skin invites the stone to release its vibrations directly into the body, amplifying its power.

How to Cleanse and Charge Amethyst:

To cleanse: Leave your Amethyst stone placed under the light of the full Moon for a whole night, that is, about 8 hours

To charge: It can also be recharge via the moon so just leaving it in the moonlight can do double duty.

Crystal Grid:

Protection and Cleansing (Hexagram)

Amethyst

Selenite

Snow Quartz

Hold your crystals in your hands and state your intention for the grid.

Lay the first triangle, placing clearing crystals on each point.

Join up the points and spray the grid with clearing essence.

Lay the light-bringing crystals in an overlocking triangle over the top of the first. Join up the points, starting with the first crystal you laid.

Place your keystone in the center, stating your intention once more.

Sources

[argyrocratie]

"In “Memory Voids and Role Reversals,” Palestinian political science professor Dana El Kurd writes of her jarring experience, hearing of the October 7th massacres by Hamas while visiting the Holocaust Tower at the Jewish Museum in Berlin. She notes the historic irony of Holocaust survivors seeking security from future oppression by expelling another people from their homeland by the hundreds of thousands, ghettoizing them in enclaves enforced by military checkpoints, and controlling them with collective punishment.

The irony of a state formed as the “antithesis” to the ghetto using ghettoization as a strategy of control is not lost on Palestinians. This infrastructure of coercion went hand in hand, of course, with ever-present physical violence — imprisonment, home demolitions, air strikes and more.

She quotes Aristide Zolberg’s observation that “formation of a new state can be a ‘refugee-generating process.’”

This is not only true of Palestinians. The Westphalian nation-state, which has been the normative component of the international system since the Treaty of Westphalia, necessarily entails (especially since the post-1789 identification of nationalism with the nation-state) the suppression of ethnic identity to a far greater extent than the expression of any such identity. Every constructed national identity associated with a “State of the X People” has necessarily involved the suppression and homogenization of countless ethnicities present in the territory claimed by that state. At the time of the French Revolution, barely half the “French” population spoke any of the many langue d’oil dialects of northern France, let alone the dialect of the Ile de France (the basis for the official “French” language). The rest spoke Occitan dialects like Provençal, or non-Romance languages like Breton (whose closest living relative is Welsh). The same is true of Catalan, Aragonese, Basque, and Galician in Spain, the low-German languages and now-extinct Wendish in Germany, the non-Javanese ethnicities of Indonesia, and so on. Heads of state issue sonorous pronouncements concerning the “Nigerian People” or “Zimbabwean People,” in reference to multi-ethnic populations whose entire “identity” centers on lines drawn on a map at the Berlin Conference.

When I say official national languages were established through the suppression of their rivals, I mean things like the residential schools of the United States and Canada punishing Native children for using their own languages. Or schools around the world shaming students with signs reading “I Spoke Welsh (or Breton, or Provencal, or Catalan, or Basque, or Ainu, or an African vernacular instead of the English, French, etc., lingua franca). And so on.

And when we consider the range of artificial national identities that were constructed by suppressing other real ethnicities, we can’t forget the “Jewish People” of Israel. Its construction occurred part and parcel with the suppression of diasporic Jewish ethnic identities all over Europe and the Middle East. The “New Jewish” identity constructed by modern Zionism was associated with the artificial revival of Hebrew, which had been almost entirely a liturgical language for 2300 years, as an official national language. And this, in turn, was associated with the suppression — both official and unofficial — of the actually existing Jewish ethnicities associated with the Yiddish, Ladino, and Arabic languages.

The centuries-old languages and cultures of actual Jewish ethnicities throughout Europe were treated as shameful relics of the past, to be submerged and amalgamated into a new artificially constructed Jewish identity centered on the Hebrew language. 

Yiddish, the language spoken by the Ashkenazi Jews of Europe — derived from an archaic German dialect and written in the Hebrew alphabet — was stigmatized by Zionist leaders in Palestine and by the early Israeli government. According to Max Weinreich’s History of the Yiddish Language, the “very making of Hebrew into a spoken language derives from the will to separate from the Diaspora.” Diasporic Jewish identities, as viewed by Zionist settlers, were “a cultural morass to be purged.” The “New Jew” was an idealized superhuman construct, almost completely divorced from centuries worth of culture and traditions of actual Jews: “Yiddish began to represent diaspora and feebleness, said linguist Ghil’ad Zuckermann. ‘And Zionists wanted to be Dionysian: wild, strong, muscular and independent.’” 

This “contempt for the Diaspora” was “manifested . . .  in the fierce campaign against Yiddish in Palestine, which led not only to the banning of Yiddish newspapers and theaters but even to physical attacks against Yiddish speakers.” From the 1920s on, anyone in Palestine with the temerity to publish in Yiddish risked having their printing press destroyed by organizations with names like the “Battalion of the Defenders of the Hebrew Language,” “Organization for the Enforcement of Hebrew,” and “Central Council for the Enforcement of Hebrew.” The showing of the Yiddish-language film Mayn Yidishe Mame (“My Yiddish Mama”), in Tel Aviv in 1930, provoked a riot led by the above-mentioned Battalion. After the foundation of Israel, “every immigrant was required to study Hebrew and often to adopt a Hebrew surname.” In its early days Israel legally prohibited plays and periodicals in the Yiddish language. A recent defender of the early suppression of Yiddish, in the Jerusalem Post, argued that Diasporic languages threatened to “undermine the Zionist project”; in other words, an admission that actually existing ethnic identities threatened an identity manufactured by a nationalist ideology.

If this is true of Yiddish — the native language of the Ashkenazi Jews who dominated the Zionist settlement of Palestine — it’s even more so of the suppression of Jewish ethnic identities outside the dominant Sephardic minority. Golda Meir once dismissed Jews of non-Ashkenazi or non-Yiddish descent as “not Jews.” 

Consider the roughly half of the Israeli population comprised of Mizrahi Jews from Middle Eastern communities (including those living in Palestine itself before European settlement). Although the Mizrahim are trotted out as worthy victims when they are convenient for purposes of Israeli propaganda — the majority of them were expelled from Arab countries like Iraq after 1948, in what was an undeniable atrocity — they are treated the rest of the time as an embarrassment or a joke, and have been heavily discriminated against, by the descendants of Ashkenazi settlers. For example former Prime Minister David Ben Gurion described Mizrahim 

as lacking even “the most elementary knowledge” and “without a trace of Jewish or human education.” Ben Gurion repeatedly expressed contempt for the culture of the Oriental Jews: “We do not want Israelis to become Arabs. We are in duty bound to fight against the spirit of the Levant, which corrupts individuals and societies, and preserve the authentic Jewish values as they crystallized in the Diaspora.”

Current Prime Minister Netanyahu once joked about a “Mizrahi gene” as his excuse for tardiness. And an Israeli realtor ran a commercial appealing to “there goes the neighborhood” sentiments by depicting a light-skinned family having their Passover celebration disrupted by uncouth Mizrahi neighbors.

Nationalism and the nation-state are the enemies of true ethnicity and culture, and built on their graves. There’s no better illustration of this principle than the Zionist project itself."

-Kevin Carson, "Zionism and the Nation-State: Palestinians Are Not the Only Victims"

[bqstqnbruin]

Mat Barzal Teacher AU

@nicohischier listen I will crtl f if I want to but I didn't do it for this one

But this is the 9th one I've written and posted since Monday so that's gotta be something, right?

Teacher AU Series

Warnings: swearing

WC: 813

______________________________

“What are you doing?” Thea asks, walking into Orla’s room. 

“Looking at my glassware.”

“Is it nice to look at?”

Orla sighs, closing her cabinets. “I have to replace like half of what I bought brand new last year because the students broke everything.” 

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, oh, shit.”

Orla gets her computer out of her bag, where it had been sitting since she arrived in her classroom for the first time since the last school year ended, pulling up the Flinn website and praying that they had some sort of sale going on. Not that it was likely for the stuff she needed, but she could still have hope. “How much will it cost you?”

“The smallest beakers I need are five dollars, the largest are twenty three.”

“Each?”

“Each,” she groans, drawing the end of the word out. 

“Oh, shit.”

Orla laughs. “I think we found our new catchphrase for the year.”

“A downgrade from last years, ‘oh, fuck,’ if I do say so,” Thea laughs. 

Orla stares at the screen, adding everything she needed to buy new into the cart and watching the total cost increase by the second. “Why don’t we work at a school that pays for everything?”

“Because I don’t think those schools exist.” The two of them sit there for a second, Orla staring at her computer trying to figure out how she was going to pay for everything she needed for the school year. “Oh, do you know who your new humanities partner is?”

Orla shrugs. “Whoever that new French teacher is, I haven’t met him yet.” 

Thea sighs. “I got paired with Richard,” she grimaces. “Why do we have to do this again?”

Orla sits up straight, folding her hands in front of her on her desk and tilting her head back so her nose was pointed into the air. Thea burst out laughing, knowing that she was imitating the vice principal they both hated. “To ensure that we are providing the most extensive cross-curricular education to our students.”

“More like to ensure that we have more busy work we don’t want to do. I mean, what cross-curriculum stuff can we do between biology and English?”

Thea looks at her friend as she puts her feet up on the top of the desk she had commandeered. “You teach AP Bio.”

“And?”

“Don’t they have to read and comprehend long passages just to write essays about them?”

“And?”

“Babe, that’s English. Richard is the perfect person to pair you with.” 

“He’s a dick.”

“In more ways than one.”

Thea laughs, getting up to head back to her classroom to do some work before they had to head to the auditorium for their first week back meetings. She turns back to Orla “Don’t you know French?”

“Not really, no.”

Thea, with her hand on the door, stares out the window in the center. “One of your ex’s did, though, right?”

“Two; blue eyes and nostril boy.”

Thea nods, a smirk on her face that told Orla she wasn’t going to like whatever her friend was about to do next. 

Orla sat back in her chair as Thea finally left, the door closing behind her. Why would she mention Orla’s exes? It wasn’t like either of them would be a teacher. Blue eyes moved away a while ago, Orla losing track of him after he ended up somewhere in Canada. Nostrils, however, was still somewhere on the island, which she knew because she ran into him way too often for her liking. They broke up because Orla thought he was way too self-involved; stopping just short of an actual temper tantrum when he didn’t get his way. 

Granted, they were younger and much more immature when they dated, but it was still enough that Orla knew she didn’t want that.

She shrugs it off, going back to the Flinn website to see if she could pull any of their free resources that could be useful in order to make her feel better about the nearly one thousand dollar glassware purchase she was about to make.

She’s interrupted by a knock at her door while she’s reading about a nuclear decay inquiry lab, not looking up to see who walks in when she calls for them to enter.

“Orla?” she hears a familiar voice, her head snapping from her computer to see the one person she didn’t want in her classroom.

“Mat?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I teach here,” she says, hoping he can’t hear the shaking in her voice. Having a short conversation with him when they randomly happened to see each other was fine, but this? “What are you doing here?”

“I work here.”

The realization of what Thea’s facial expression meant finally dawned on her. You could see who was coming into the building from the hallway outside Orla’s classroom thanks to the weird design of the building. Thea had to have seen Mat coming in. “You’re the new French teacher.”

“You’re my curriculum partner.” 

“Oh, shit.”

[starlit-crossing]

A Ghost of Yourself Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Flying Solo

---

Danny had lost track of the time quickly after beginning to fly, his stress ebbing away with the landscape that spend by. He tried to focus on the grass, the roads, the horizon, anything but what had just transpired. Every time his mind wondered; he would be reminded that he needed to not feel. His friends' face as he took off — nope, not thinking about it. How worried Jazz would be — what a really cool tree I just passed. His parents’ confusion and not getting to say goodbye to anyone — that is a lot of white vans up a head. Wait… Danny stopped midair above a state highway. Similar to a police barricade, white vans, jeeps, and motorcycles were stationed in the middle of the street. Guys in White were stopping the passing cars, scanning them, then letting vehicles through the state border. Lines were beginning to form and angry honks floating up to him. This isn't good… Danny fished for his burner phone, feeling for the metal at the bottom of his backpack. Digging it out, the clock read 12:45. He had left Casper high during lunch, which had been around 11:30, and he had left Amity around 11:40. Good to know it takes less than an hour for the Goons in White to make a move. He floated closer to the cars to see if anyone had a Wi-Fi spot open. I should've grabbed the Fenton GPS from the emergency OPS center, finally a Wi-Fi signal popped up under the name __Not_The_FBI__. Danny choked on a laugh as he pulled open his map app. He was going to need to avoid every joke and pun on this trip, or he was a dead man. Well, a deader man… wait! Bad brain! He yelled at himself. He had to be less than a five-minute flight from Chicago. Zooming in, he looked for a train station or a ferry… and there was a train station used for hauling cargo from the US into Canada.

“Perfect!” Danny exclaimed, pumping his fist into the air, only to hit something metal. Turning, Danny watched as a pristine white drone steadied itself in the air. Its camera focusing on him.

“Shit.” Danny turned to watch as the men below froze, then look to the sky. Spotting him immediately, he just waved as they began to take aim. Turning invisible and speeding away as round after round of ecto blasts lit up the sky. Nice going Fenton, he berated himself flying towards Chicago; I have two things I can't do: express emotion and use powers publicly. I've already done both! Like he thought it hadn't taken long to reach the station, gravely rails and signs directing conductors were sprawled throughout. He found an empty car, checked for any passerby, and phased inside. A flash of light leaking through the cracks as he returned to his human self. The darkened car was cold, with metal walls and doors. The floor was a kind of embossed metal, a crisscross pattern embellished the sheet metal.

“I should've brought a book or something.” he laughed tiredly to himself… “Damn it!” Danny yelled, banging his head on the car wall. It's probably best if I just sleep, I'll be over the state border by the time I wake up. He thought to himself, settling into a corner. Propping his backpack to use as a pillow, the cold had no effect on him as he drifted to sleep.

---

It had been a little over an hour since Danny had gone on the run. Sam and Tucker had decided to skip what was left of school and head straight home. It would be difficult to catch up with him, but they had to at least try, and every second that passed was a second wasted. They didn't have anything in mind for Danny being tracked so easily, but they would figure something out. They had to.

When Sam got home, her house was surrounded by GIW agents. Her parents stood at the door listening to a panicked Jack and Maddie. As she pushed her way to the front, she was able to make out some of what Danny's parents were saying.

“Please! Just let us make sure Phantom didn't leave anything here. Anything could be a clue to where he took Danny!” Maddie cried, Jack stood by her as she pleaded, an arm around her shoulder. Her parents shared a pained look as they tried to decide what to do.

“Maddie, we know your situation with ghosts is important. To your career and with your family,” her mother started softly, remaining in her polite and cheery tone. “But we can't risk involving Sammikins more than your son already has.”

“Not to mention when we let you search our home earlier during that wild goose chase! Left a large mess that our house cleaner had to pick up.” Her father chimed in, annoyed.

“We understand that, but we need every clue we can! Sam!” Jack shouted, seeing her as she entered the path leading to the door.

“Sammy get inside! You don't need to be pestered by agents as well.” Her dad called, ushering her inside the large house.

“Same, please! Have you heard anything from Danny? Is he with Tucker?” Maddie called, fighting the door as her mother tried to close it. Sam tried to calm down, closing her eyes and slowing her breath. Key word being tried.

“No! I haven't and neither has Tucker! So just leave the two of us alone and don't you dare try storming his house too!” she hollered, shoving the door fully closed. She sighed back sliding against the door.

“That's right Sammikins! Just because they risked their family with ghosts doesn't mean they can risk ours!” Her mother cheered.

“And sorry, Sammy, the house cleaner couldn't get to the second floor today, so your room's still a mess.” Her dad added.

“It's fine, dad. I'll clean it myself. Can I… Can I just be alone for a bit? Stressful day and all.” Sam mumbled, making her way upstairs.

“Of course, sweetie!” they answered, leaving Sam with herself. Once her parents were out of sight, she ran up the stairs. As she entered her room, she looked at the damage caused by the aforementioned goose chase. It looked like a storm had blown through, her bed and desk had their contents thrown about. Anything related to Danny had been pulled out. Ignoring the mess, she pulled over a chair to her closet and felt for the backpack taped to its ceiling. Once down she poured out its contents mentally checking everything was still there. Her clothes? Check. Money? Check. A letter? Sam pulled out the simple envelope that made an appearance in her bag. It was addressed to her, the whole thing crisp and clean. Inside a piece of notebook paper full of Danny's handwriting, nothing looked rushed, and it seemed he had prepared these in advance.

*Ring* *Ring*

Tucker’s face lit up her phone's lock screen, she answered the video call while reading the letter.

“Sam! Did you get home safe? I heard the GIW were swarming your house. Did you find a letter?”

He blurted, the room behind him burring as he moved.

“I'm fine, and I did. Did you get one too? Why would Danny write these?” She flipped the page to see if there was more, a hint to what he was thinking.

“I did, that was why I called you. Does yours say the same thing. Well, maybe not the exact same.” He rambled, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up, Tuck! He wants us to stay in Amity? To abandon him and protect the town that barely cares he's here?” She exclaimed. Tucker nodded along from the camera.

“I know right? He's our best friend, we can't just let him be on the run!” Tucker ranted, “Can we? I mean, I know where he's coming from. We can't really trust his parents or the GIW to keep ghosts out. Valerie can handle her own, but she still hates ghosts. It will be hard for her to leave the neutral ones alone.”

“I don't know, Tuck, Danny even said we could tell Valerie his secret if things got out of hand and became too much for us and Jazz. I don't think he plans on coming home, at least not anytime soon.” she contemplated; there had to be something they could do. “What about other heroes?”

“What? What would they do?” Tucker asked.

“I'm not sure, I know we don't really keep up with stuff outside of Amity, but the Justice whatever works with the government, right? We could tell them our local hero is being unjustly hunted.” Sam suggested pacing the room.

“Sam, what will they find when they look into Phantom? That he's a wanted criminal, robbing banks, and threatening mayors? The media doesn't shine Danny in a good light.” He countered.

“But those can be explained, the GIW have files on Freakshow.”

“Didn't Danny wipe his memories with the Reality gauntlet? They couldn't get the whole truth, or they would learn his brain has been messed with through magic or martians.” They went back and forth.

“Then what do you propose we do? We can't track him down without others noticing.” Sam huffed in defeat.

“We'll just have to do what he asked of us. We'll watch over the town, if Valerie gets out of hand, we'll offer our help first. Say we helped Phantom with ghosts, Danny included. We can say Danny is protecting Phantom even now, and it will buy us some time to see if she can handle Danny's secret.” Tuck finished.

“She trusts Danielle, right? We might be able to convince her.” A moment hung in the air between the two friends. The reality settling in that they may never see their friend again. “Where is Danielle? She might get caught in the crossfire of this, being a clone and all.” Sam wondered.

“She's in Italy last I checked, I'm glad I gave her one of my old phones before she left the US.” Tucker answered.

“That's good… Which of us is telling Jazz?"

---

The train started to move shortly after Danny fell asleep. Four hours passed before Danny's body forced him awake, ghost hunting had ruined his sleep. He could hear Jazz's voice in his head talking about the importance of sleep for teens today. He checked the burner for the time and saw the numbers 6:05 glowing back at him. Pulling open the map he saw he had made it to Indiana, finally.

“Time to get moving, I guess.” As he spoke, he focused on keeping his voice even. The events of earlier, still fresh in his mind. The sound of the car's rolling wheels echoed in the empty car as he stood. Stretching to pop his back. He stuck his head invisibly through the train door, seeing the cargo station grow closer. Bringing his head back in, he readied to slip off the train. Steadying himself as the train arrived, opening the door, and running through the train yard as fast as he could without getting caught. It had been easier than expected, no one cared, as the teen bolted through the gravel-filled rails with ease. Once outside, he went searching for food. A mini mart was on the corner and a King Burger across the street. He couldn't risk lingering, so he made way for the minimart. The convenience store felt dated with white walls and neon signs, the floor was black and gray checkered tiles. Grabbing some water bottles, bags of jerky, and some premade sandwiches. The many sweets and freezy drinks were tempting, but the longer the food could last, the better. The place was deserted, only the clerk scrolling on his phone could witness he was ever there. After finishing his resource gathering, Danny went on the hunt for a gray hound bus stop, it would be the easiest way to get around without drawing too much attention. Looking for the longest possible route to the East Coast, he was left with two options: Gotham or Metropolis. Both had international ports and superheroes that protected them. He had always meant to look into other heroes more, find some inspiration or role models for hero work, but with ghosts constantly attacking the town and homework, he just didn't have time. Mr. Lancer tried to keep class interesting by referencing the things happening on the global news. Now if he could only remember what he had said about the heroes protecting the cities. Danny had actually perked up when Lancer mentioned that one was an alien with super hearing and other abilities. Aside from that, all he could remember was their names, Batman and Superman. I'm feeling a lot better about my hero name. He would have to give Amity News a break about Invis-O-Bill. Between the two, he was pretty sure Superman was the alien. Sam had done a report on meta-human rights and had gotten very passionate when she discovered that they didn't reference the ecto acts whatsoever. She had been so sure that someone would shed light on the act, accounting it to being unknown meta-humans being unjustly removed of their rights. A point she got stuck on was that Batman had all but banned metas from Gotham. Stating they should seek sanctuary elsewhere due to the antics of his villains. It had something to do with gas, scarecrows, and clowns? So, he could either go to the city where no powers were allowed, or the city protected by a super-hearing alien. The GIW might expect him to go to an alien for sympathy or to overshadow him in a power grab. Gotham seemed like the safer choice, even with the high amounts of criminal activity they seemed to have. He would be able to fight off most thugs without causing serious damage, humans can't normally through a guy through a brick wall like ghosts can. No one would question him being alone and sneaking around, he'd use his powers to get on a boat for Europe and keep a low profile while he searched for Danielle. He'd fill her in on what was going on, send a message to Sam and Tucker that he was safe, and wait to hear what was happening in Amity. So, Danny waited in line and got his ticket for Gotham. The bus was crowded full of people trying to do the same as him; to take a bus as far from one's old life as possible. He was able to grab a seat towards the back, settling into the stained fabric seats. His backpack between himself and the wall of the bus window. Settling in for the longest stretch of his journey out of the country.

Hello and welcome again! I hope everyone is enjoying the story. It’s been very exciting getting to see everyone’s comments and enjoyment for the fic. Don’t worry about the lack of Bat family, I am getting their as fast as I can. I wanted to revisit Amity a little bit to wrap up a few loose ends. I’m not sure at what point in the DP timeline I am placing this, but it will most likely either be prefinal of the show or post A Glitch in Time. Two very different time periods but both work with the general DC timeline I am using. As for the Bat family I’m more familiar with the characters themselves than the canon timeline. So, I’ll primarily be referring to the Batman: Family Adventures for the family and Young Justice for world events such as meta-humans.

I spent a lot of my time working on this listening to the Epic: Underworld Saga musical concept and got stuck on the song No Longer You. It’s so good and feels like it could fit Danny in some aspects if you go for a post A Glitch in Time ghost king Danny. Might draw something if I got time.

See you next week, byee!

Master post - Chapter 2 Prev. <<< Next >>>

[asystol]

OFFICIAL PROFILE

         ᯓ FILE 000. — LEE, NICOLE ๋࣭

 ⩨͢  BASIC INFORMATION ⍣

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  BIRTH NAME.     nicole lee

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  KOREAN NAME.     lee nakyung

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀HANGUL.     이나경

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  ALIAS.     nikki ❪ given by julie, origin from her birth name ❫⠀ ⠀collie ❪ ‘ pronounced cole-lee ’ given by belle, origin from her birth name ❫⠀ ⠀nana ❪ given by natty, origin from her korean name ❫⠀ ⠀뿌 ppu ❪ given by haneul, origin is 뿌 is a cute expression like the ‘ 😁 ’ emoji ❫⠀ ⠀naky ❪ given by daniel, origin from her korean name ❫⠀ ⠀ttokki ❪ given by fans, origin from her representative emoji ❫ ⠀ ⠀nakorita ❪ given by haneul, origin from the pokemon chikorita ❫ 

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  DATE OF BIRTH.     april 1st, 2001

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  AGE.     23 years old

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  ZODIAC.     aries

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  CHINESE ZODIAC.     snake

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  PLACE OF BIRTH.     toronto, canada

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  NATIONALITY.     canadian

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  ETHNICITY.     korean

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  RESIDENCE(S).     port hope, ontario, canada ❪ 2001 — 2013 ❫⠀ ⠀chungcheongnam-do, south korea ❪ 2013 — 2015 ❫⠀ ⠀seoul, south korea ❪ 2015 — ❫

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  LANGUAGES.     english ❪ fluent ❫⠀ ⠀korean ❪ near fluent ❫⠀ ⠀spanish ❪ advanced ❫⠀ ⠀japanese ❪ intermediate ❫⠀ ⠀thai ❪ beginner ❫

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  GENDER IDENTITY.     cisgender female

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  PRONOUNS.     she/her

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  SEXUAL ORIENTATION.     bisexual

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  ROMANTIC ORIENTATION.     homoromantic

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  RELATIONSHIP STATUS.     single

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  HEIGHT.     163cm (5’4”)

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  WEIGHT.     —

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  BLOOD TYPE.     a

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  EYE.     brown

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  NATURAL HAIR.     black

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  BODY MODIFICATIONS.     lobe piercing ❪ left and right ❫⠀ ⠀upper lobe piercing ❪ left and right ❫⠀ ⠀industrial piercing ❪ left and right ❫⠀ ⠀helix piercing ❪ left and right ❫⠀ ⠀conch piercing ❪ left and right ❫⠀ ⠀belly button piercing⠀ ⠀‘ i am the somebody ’ tattoo ❪ right rib ❫⠀ ⠀strawberry tattoo ❪ left hip ❫⠀ ⠀koi fish tattoo ❪ behind right ear ❫

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  FACE CLAIM.     nana of wooah

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  SPEAKING CLAIM.     nana of wooah

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  VOCAL CLAIM.     juria of xg

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  DANCE CLAIM.     yuna of itzy

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  RAP CLAIM.     rei of ive

 ⩨͢  CAREER INFORMATION ⍣

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  STAGE NAME.     NAKYUNG (나경)

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  COMPANY.     pledis entertainment ❪ 2015 — 2022 ❫⠀ ⠀off the record entertainment ❪ 2018 — 2021 ❫⠀ ⠀axs entertainment ❪ 2019 — 2021 ❫⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀swing entertainment ❪ 2020 — 2021 ❫⠀ ⠀s2 entertainment ❪ 2022 — ❫

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  TRAINING PERIOD.     five in total ❪ skipping 2018 — 2021 ❫

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  SURVIVAL SHOWS.     produce 48 ❪ 2018 ❫

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  OCCUPATION.     idol

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  GROUP(S).     IZ*ONE ❪ 2018 — 2021 ❫⠀ ⠀KISS OF LIFE ❪ 2023 — ❫

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  DEBUT DATE(S).     october 29th, 2018 ❪ IZ*ONE ❫⠀ ⠀july 5th, 2023 ❪ KISS OF LIFE ❫

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  DEBUT AGE(S).     17 years old ❪ IZ*ONE ❫⠀ ⠀22 years old ❪ KISS OF LIFE ❫

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  DISBANDMENT DATE.     april 29th, 2021 ❪ IZ*ONE ❫

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  DISBANDMENT AGE.     20 years old ❪ IZ*ONE ❫

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  POSITION(S).     vocalist, sub rapper, visual ❪ IZ*ONE ❫⠀ ⠀vocalist, center ❪ KISS OF LIFE ❫

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  REPRESENTATIVE COLOR(S).     WISTERIA ❪ IZ*ONE ❫⠀ purple ❪ KISS OF LIFE ❫

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  REPRESENTATIVE EMOJI(S).     🦋 butterfly ❪ IZ*ONE ❫⠀ 🐰 bunny ❪ KISS OF LIFE ❫

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  INDIVIDUAL FANDOM NAME.     nakyorita ❪ origin from chikorita + nakyung ❫

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  INSTAGRAM USERNAME.     nicolee ❪ public, 11.4m followers, 14 following ❫

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  DISCOGRAPHY.     

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀COLOR*IZ.     october 29th, 2018

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀Suki to Iwasetai.     february 6th, 2019

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀HEART*IZ.     april 1st, 2019

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀Buenos Aires.     june 21st, 2019

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀Vampire.     september 25th, 2019

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀BLOOM*IZ.     february 17th, 2020

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀Oneiric Diary.     june 15th, 2020

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀Thirteen.     october 21st, 2020

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀One-reeler / ACT IV.     december 7th, 2020

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀D-D-Dance.     january 26th, 2021

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀Stardust love song.     march 6th, 2022

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀KISS OF LIFE.     july 5th, 2023

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀Born to be XX.     november 8th, 2023

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀Officially Cool (with BANG YEDAM).     february 9th, 2024

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀Midas Touch.     april 3rd, 2024

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀Sixth Sense.     may 25th, 2024

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀Sticky.     july 1st, 2024

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  KNOWN FOR.     placing second in produce48, the ‘listener’ for the yapper best friend (julie), her duality, accidentally kissing chaewon during a live, everyone’s parents loving her more than their own kid, the switch in concept between iz*one and kiss of life, her vocals, slapping/patting her members’ butts for no reason, belle recording her crying over the finding nemo movie, being the biggest moomoo, her stable cover of bad news while drunk, openly being a ‘gleek’, affectionately being called a loser in a hot body by fans, her sanrio themed room

 ⩨͢  PERSONAL INFORMATION ⍣

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  MBTI TYPE.     intj-a ❪ assertive architect ❫ 

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀ANALYZING.     an assertative architect tends to have more self confidence than a turbulent architect, particularly when handling life’s ups and downs. if things do go the way they expect, an intj-a is not likely to second guess their initial actions or experience regret.

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  POSITIVE.     

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀rational.     

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀ambitious.     

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀self-assured.     

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀adventurous. 

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀observant. 

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀efficient. 

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  NEGATIVE.     

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀arrogant. 

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀impulsive. 

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀impatient. 

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀nosy. 

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀withdrawn. 

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀rigid.

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  FAMILY.     

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀joshua lee ❪ father ❫ 

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀angie lee ❪ mother ❫  † ❪ 1975 — 2021 ❫

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀daniel lee ❪ brother ❫ 

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀ciara lee ❪ sister ❫ 

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀kim seoyoung ❪ maternal grandmother ❫ † ❪ 1955 — 2018 ❫

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀park hojin ❪ maternal grandfather ❫ 

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀park jaewoo ❪ maternal uncle ❫ 

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀park sooyoung ❪ maternal aunt ❫ 

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀lee jihyuk ❪ paternal grandfather ❫ † ❪ 1950 — 1994 ❫

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀jung yeonhee ❪ paternal grandmother ❫ † ❪ 1954 — 2011 ❫

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀lee eunbyul ❪ paternal aunt ❫ 

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  HISTORY.    

 ⠀⠀  ⠀nakyung was born on april 1st, 2001 as nicole lee in toronto, canada. she grew up in port hope, ontario, canada with her older brother, daniel, and younger sister, ciara. her mother, angie, worked as a middle school music teacher and her father, joshua, was a construction worker.

 ⠀⠀  ⠀she became interested in music early on, her mother teaching her how to play guitar and piano as soon as she was old enough. when nakyung wanted to be a singer “just like stevie nicks” at eight-years-old, angie put her in vocal lessons.

 ⠀⠀  ⠀after being persuaded by her best friend, she joins the free ballet classes at her school with her. she starts to take dance and her vocals more seriously, finding it more fun than instruments. 

 ⠀⠀  ⠀when she’s thirteen, her parents tell her and her siblings that her mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer the year before. they wanted to wait to see if chemotherapy would help. angie had gotten laid off from her job, leaving joshua the only financial support. 

 ⠀⠀  ⠀for more financial stability and emotions support, the lee family moved from canada to south korea to stay with angie’s parents. nicole didn’t even have time to say goodbye to her friends.

 ⠀⠀  ⠀nicole, now going by nakyung, didn’t make very much friends in her new school and kept mostly to herself. she got a job under the table as a waitress to help her parents with bills, telling her family she was at a dance studio by her school.

 ⠀⠀  ⠀while working, she was scouted by pledis entertainment. despite her parents thinking it was sketchy and cult-like, she auditioned and was accepted. as her brother was going to seoul national university, she moved to seoul with him to train at pledis.

 ⠀⠀  ⠀in 2016, nakyung’s parents announced that angie was in remission. she started working as a teacher again after becoming healthier.

 ⠀⠀  ⠀nakyung was in the final line-up for pledis’ upcoming girl group, but was pulled out due to ‘not being ready’. she almost left the company until her mother convinced her to stay and become better.

 ⠀⠀  ⠀with no news of a new pledis girl group, nakyung volunteered herself to join mnet’s survival show, produce 48. she would end up placing second in the last episode and debuting in temporary girl group, IZ*ONE, in 2018.

 ⠀⠀  ⠀in 2020, nakyung’s parents announced that angie’s cancer had came back— being part of the 10-20 percentage of ovarian cancer recurrence. angie would not try chemotherapy again, wanting to be with her family and go to new zealand. due to the pandemic, the family would ultimately stay in korea and not fulfill angie’s wish.

 ⠀⠀  ⠀in 2021, her mother dies and IZ*ONE disbands. nakyung is not seen for a long time, not even by her IZ*ONE members until her OST song for kdrama ‘twenty-five twenty-one’, stardust love song, was announced. she would, again, disappear.

 ⠀⠀  ⠀in 2022, it is assumed nakyung left pledis around this time as she later joins S2 entertainment after lee haein offered her a spot in ber upcoming girl group.

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  FATHER.     joshua lee was born march 13th, 1973 in daegu, south korea as lee jaehyun. the day he turned eighteen, he left his house and moved to canada with his best friend and legally changed his name to joshua lee. he met angela park in 1994 and would go on to have three children with her. the first being daniel in 1997, nicole in 2001, and ciara in 2004. he doesn’t want to be in korea when they have to move but does it for his wife. when angie dies in 2021, he completely barricades himself in their room. one day, his number is changed and all of his belongings are gone. we never find out what happened to him but he either killed himself or changed his name again and started a new life. he is referred to as ‘dad’ or ‘deadbeat’. (non affectionately)

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  MOTHER.     angela ‘angie’ lee was born on october 29th, 1975 in jeju, south korea as park jangmi. she goes by angela or angie now because she likes the name. she was studying abroad in canada when she met joshua. in 2012, she is diagnosed with ovarian cancer. together, they decide to bare the news on their shoulders alone and decide not to tell anyone unless chemotherapy doesn’t work. it begins to work, but it’s too expensive and she’s laid off. they have to move to seoul to be near her family for help. she hates the person she is while on chemo, and turns to god in her sickness and health, even when she’s in remission in 2016. she begins working again. in 2020, the cancer come back, but angie doesn’t want to be on chemo again. she wants to be with her family, in new zealand. but then they can’t go and she dies in korea. she is referred to as ‘mom’.

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  BROTHER.     daniel lee was born on august 15th, 1997 in toronto, canada. he grew up teasing his younger sisters, ever so mean to them during puberty but there for them when they were upset. his relationship with his parents wasn’t so great, always noting a difference in the way they brought him up compared to his sisters. when he was eighteen, he left for seoul national university in 2015 with his sister. he now works as a cyber security engineer. he is referred to as ‘daniel’, ‘danny’ or ‘dumbass’. (affectionately)

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  SISTER.     ciara lee was born on november 3rd, 2004 in ontario, canada. she grew up wanting to be everything like her sister, wanting to be around her constantly. she slightly grew up in nakyung’s shadow, but that didn’t matter to her— it just made her want to be her even more. she wants to become an idol just like her older sister— and she will. she currently lives with their aunt, sooyoung, and her girlfriend, bora, in busan, south korea. she is referred to as ‘chaeyoung’ or ‘cee’ or ‘ciara’.

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  MATERNAL GRANDMOTHER.     park seoyoung was born on january 19th, 1955 in busan, south korea. she met lee hojin in 1972 and shortly married him a few months later the same year. they would go on to have three children, one boy, two girls. in 1996, seoyoung and hojin moved to chungnam, south korea and settled there for the rest of their lives. in 2017, her health begins to decline. in 2018, she dies in her sleep peacefully. she is referred to as ‘할머니’ (halmoni).

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  MATERNAL GRANDFATHER.     park hojin was born on may 12th, 1949 in ulsan, south korea. after his father died during the korean war, his mother moved them to busan. he met seoyoung in 1972, marrying her and having three children with her. in 1996, he and seoyoung moved to chungnam. in 2001, he suffered from a heart attack. he is currently retired, but used to work as a contractor.

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  MATERNAL UNCLE.     park jaewoo was born on february 21st, 1973. he is currently a businessman, living in new york.

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  MATERNAL AUNT.      park sooyoung was born on september 27th, 1977. she is currently living in busan with her girlfriend, bora, and her niece, chaeyoung/ciara. she works as a hotel secretary.

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  PATERNAL GRANDFATHER.     lee jihyuk was born in 1950. he was verbally and physically abusive to his son, jaehyun, which was one of the leading factors of why jaehyun left forever at eighteen. he died in 1994 of a heart attack.

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  PATERNAL GRANDMOTHER.     jung yeonhee was born on july 1st, 1954. she never tried to protect her son from her husband, but joshua was soft on her and it took a lot of him to leave her behind. after jihyuk died in 1994, she tried to find jaehyun, as she knew him, but failed. she later settled in jeju, south korea in 2000 and died of a car accident in 2011. 

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  PATERNAL AUNT.     lee eunbyul was born on december 28th, 1981. her brother was nine years older than her and never cared enough to talk to her, despite the two having more in common than he thought. she was relieved when their brother left and then her father died. when her mother tried to look for her brother who never even wanted them, she grew angry and began to resent her mother and her brother even more. 

 ⩨͢  TRIVIAL INFORMATION ⍣

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  HABITS & MANNERISMS.     

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀making sound effects, making sweater paws, switching from english to korean in a sentence, constantly organizing and reorganizing things, talking in aegyo, sleep talking, mumbling to herself, makes up lies about random, unimportant things for no reason, pouting or puckering her lips, sleeping in late, using ‘like’ constantly in a conversation, gesturing while talking, checking her phone, laughing in serious situations, poking haneul’s cheeks, slapping/patting her members’ butts for no reason, talking about stars, getting overstimulated with too much noise under stress, bursting into songs and choreo, being jumpy.

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  HOBBIES & SKILLS.     

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀singing, writing, playing the piano, playing the guitar, watching old and new cartoons, gardening, seeing how far she can push her members, vlogging, watching tiktoks/being on her phone, sleeping, shopping, collecting her bias’ photocards, journaling, collecting rubber ducks, doing mindf*ck games.

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  LIKES.     

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀sleeping, music, shopping, reading, strawberries, rubber ducks, learning, butter pecan ice cream, astrology, stars, science, organizing, candles, dramas, the season fall, color purple, swimming, gentle rain, night time, puzzles, talking about her mother, ice skating, museums.

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  DISLIKES.     

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀alcohol, the color orange, loud noises, hot weather, clowns, thunderstorms, liars, mint flavor, horror movies, assumptions, being vulnerable, repeating herself, being active besides dancing, chronically late people, wasting time, camping, cemeteries, family dinners, waiting, dirty fingernails, sundays, cheese, cleaning, world ending conspiracy theories/far stretched conspiracy theories.

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  PHOBIAS.     

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀heights, blood.

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  FAVORITE COLOR(S).     

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀lavender and pink.

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  FAVORITE SEASON.   

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀fall.

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  FAVORITE ANIMAL(S).     

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀bunnies, dogs.

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  FAVORITE NUMBER.     

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀seven.

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  PERSONAL PLAYLIST.

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀anywhere but home, seulgi. gibson girl, ethel cain. rhiannon, fleetwood mac. spring day, bts. teeth, enhypen. out of the woods, taylor swift. take a bite, beabadoobee. liquid smooth, mitski. bye my neverland, kiss of life. left alone, fiona apple. black madonna, cage the elephant. you know i’m no good, amy winehouse. 

͙͘͡ ★ ◞  CLOSE FRIENDS.   

 ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀former iz*one members. ryujin and chaeryeong, itzy. aespa. yunjin, le sserafim. miyeon and shuhua, (g)i-dle. nagyung, fromis_9. gaeul, ive. heeseung, enhypen. mark, chenle, haechan and jaemin, nct. sungchan, riize. yiren, everglow. yeonjun, txt. chuu. keeho, p1harmony. tsuki, billlie. soojin. matthew, zerobaseone. lily and haewon, nmixx. isa, stayc. park jihoon.

inspo from @m3loria

[red-flagging]

can i have a 💛 reunion kiss/relief pls!

(kiss prompts!)

There’s no one in the rink parking lot when Valtteri pulls in, which isn’t unusual. The front door is unlocked, which is. Valtteri drops her things off in the staff room and wanders towards the main rink. All the lights are still off, but she can hear the quiet scrape of someone on the ice.

They’re on the opposite side of the rink when she walks in. Not one of her students–they’re too tall, and too good at skating besides. As Valtteri watches, they take a lazy half-turn, then pop up, light and airy, into a lovely salchow.

Valtteri whistles under her breath. The sound carries further than she expects over the ice. Whoever it is looks over their shoulder, mid-stride.

The jolt of recognition catches Valtteri dead center in her chest. “Lewis?” she blurts out, before she can catch herself. 

Lewis meets her eyes. Too late, it hits Valtteri–does Lewis even know–but before she can even finish the sentence, Lewis is gliding towards her, disbelief flashing across her face.

“Oh my God,” she says. “Val?”

She doesn’t look how Valtteri remembers. Her hair’s not in the braids that she started wearing during their last season together; it’s tied behind her head in a curly puff that pokes out from under her toque. The frizzy edges catch the morning light streaming in from the high windows. Back when they were younger, she used to straighten it religiously before every competition until Valtteri could practically see her reflection in the smooth, unforgiving shine. She can almost smell the hairspray now. Even the memory of it makes her a little dizzy.

“Lewis,” she repeats. “Fuck. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, jeez,” Lewis says. At least she looks equally thrown off balance. “Wow. I didn’t–I had no idea you’d be here.”

“I had no idea you were going to be here.” After all, Valtteri’s the one who’s been working nights and weekends at the rink for the past three years. She hasn’t watched a tournament in years. The only times she hears anything about Lewis are when she’s scrolling through the figure skating news accounts that she knows she needs to just put her foot down and unfollow. Valtteri saw a picture of her a few weeks ago, celebrating with George in the Skate Canada kiss-and-cry about going into the free skate in 4th. She didn’t see any more headlines about them after that, so she can hazard a guess at how things ended up going.

Lewis shrugs, fiddling with her gloves. “Yeah,” she says. “Honestly, I didn’t know either, but my flight layovers worked out this way, and then Bono let me bribe him to get in here, and–” she shrugs again. “Here I am, I guess.” She glances up at Valtteri. “What are you doing here?”

Valtteri nods towards the duffel bag beside her. “Coaching,” she says. “I run the youth team here. Hockey.”

Lewis’s face actually lights up. “Oh my God,” she says, sounding genuinely delighted. “That’s so–wow. You used to play, right?”

“As a kid.” And then she’d hit puberty and gotten just tall enough to be able to lift all the girls but not tall enough to take a check from any of the other boys, and that had decided that. “I was never very good, but. Enough for the basics, I suppose.”

Lewis shakes her head. “Nah, come on, I bet these kids love you,” she says. “It really suits you. You look–happier.”

Valtteri doesn’t flinch, exactly, but something on her face must twitch, because Lewis’s expression shutters again, something in her eyes going a little more subdued. She scrapes a skate over the ice, drawing patterns in the bits of slush collecting at the edges of the rink. The sound echoes through the empty air between them. 

“Sorry, I’m–am I in your way?” Lewis asks suddenly. “I kind of just–barged in here.”

Valtteri’s first class isn’t until 10AM. Valtteri should tell Lewis to get out anyways. Valtteri is technically still mad at Lewis–at least, she thinks she’s supposed to be mad at her. At least as mad as Lewis was the last time they talked to each other, in Lewis’s hospital room after the second back surgery, when Valtteri told her she was quitting for good.

You’re fucking running from a fight, Lewis had snapped. She’d been dropping weight that whole season, trying to get her shoulders to look less broad compared to Valtteri’s; she’d looked tiny against the sheets, practically shaking from anger or exhaustion or both. You’re being selfish. Like Valtteri hadn’t bitten the bullet and buzzed her hair short and grown her beard out this season, just to see if it made a difference; like she hadn’t ignored the way her shoulder creaked every time she hoisted Lewis up over her head; like she hadn’t done the goddamn Carmen program, after eight years of resisting. 

Valtteri had been too tired to argue with her; had left and gone home, laid in bed to open and close Instagram over and over and fantasize about posting Fuck the ISU with a picture of herself flipping the bird across all her socials.

In the end, she’d just posted the meticulously-edited, purposefully meaningless retirement statement they’d sent her the night before, then texted Didi and asked him to reset the passwords on all her official accounts.

Want me to send you the new log in? Didi had texted back.

No, Valtteri had answered, and then turned her phone off.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” Lewis says, jerking Valtteri out of her thoughts. “This is–I know this is kind of crazy.”

She’s chewing on the side of her lip. She always used to leave an extra lipstick with Toto, in case she picked a scab off while waiting for their group to get called and there wasn’t time to run back to the locker room. That’s how Valtteri learned to do her own lips; ten years of touching Lewis up rinkside, Lewis’s eyes bright and her breath on Valtteri’s numb fingers hot enough to make something in her stomach burn. 

There’s a tube of chapstick in Valtteri’s pocket. If she let muscle memory win, she’d reach over and tug Lewis’s lip down right now. 

She reaches down to take off her own skate guards instead. “There’s time,” she says. Watches Lewis swallow, her eyes darting between Valtteri’s face and the ice. “Come skate with me?”

–

Even after all these years, the way Lewis’s body moves is more familiar than Valtteri’s own. Valtteri doesn’t even notice they’re matching strides until Lewis turns to skate backwards and Valtteri automatically moves to stay on her right as they round the corner. 

Lewis gives her an amused look. Valtteri shrugs. “Old habits die hard, I guess,” she says sheepishly, and feels her cheeks go surprisingly, pleasantly hot when Lewis laughs. 

“Does it translate?” Lewis asks, falling back into stride beside Valtteri. “You know. The–” she mimes shoulder checking Valtteri, lightly bumping against her.

Valtteri hums. “It’s different.” Half the kids on her team are shit skaters, for one. The only reason most of them show up to practice is because they like running headfirst into each other. But Valtteri doesn’t have any real reason to drill them into shape, so she lets them be. There’s worse things to teach kids their bodies are good for than casual, good-natured violence. “Hard to compare.”

“Mmm.” The rink’s quiet except for the soft scrape of their skates against the ice, rasping like breaths in sync. Valtteri sneaks a glance over at Lewis. She’s gotten more piercings. They somehow make her look softer than Valtteri remembers; or maybe she’s just grown into her features, after all these years. There’s a tattoo on the nape of her neck, almost covered by her hair, that Valtteri doesn’t think she’s ever seen before. She’s just as beautiful as Valtteri remembers.

“So, uh,” Lewis says, into the silence. She clears her throat. “When’d you start growing your hair out?”

Ah. So they’ve made it to this part of the conversation. “Basically as soon as I retired,” Valtteri says. As soon as she could. She gives Lewis a wry grin. “My head was getting cold, you know, so.”

Lewis half-laughs, shaking her head. “That was it, huh?” 

Valtteri shrugs. “It’s my hair,” she says. “Did I need a better reason?”

Lewis doesn’t say anything to that. They round the corner, back onto the long end of the rink, before she opens her mouth again. Valtteri internally braces herself for the usual onslaught–if anyone deserves an explanation, or at least an acknowledgement, it’s Lewis, she supposes.

“Is the mullet new?” Lewis asks.

Valtteri blinks. “Uh,” she says. “Yeah. Mullet’s new.”

Lewis nods. “Mullet’s pretty good,” she says, giving Valtteri a grin over her shoulder. Valtteri grins back. It’s not as hard as she expected.

They turn another corner. Lewis tucks a curl behind her ear. The light from the high windows is starting to creep up past the edge of the ice. It’s above Lewis’s ankles now, glinting off of her blades as they skate through the patches of sun.

“I should have said something back then,” Lewis says.

Valtteri’s skate sticks on a chip in the ice. She barely catches her stumble.

“What,” she says. “About–what about?”

Lewis doesn’t say anything. She reaches out to slow herself against the boards, gliding to a stop by the benches. She isn’t looking at Valtteri. “I just mean–” she has a funny look on her face. It takes Valtteri a second to place it as uncertainty. “I don’t know,” she says eventually. “Everything, I guess. They way they–were. About you.”

“They were pretty terrible to you, too,” Valtteri says, after a moment. Her throat feels like it’s been filled with sand.

She’s said as much to Lewis before, though maybe not in such blunt terms. The last time, it was after they’d gone minorly viral after some commentator made a joke about how they were the first pairs team where the man was the one who got lifted by the woman. Aren’t you tired about never being enough for them, Valtteri had said, and Lewis had snapped back, and that’s why Nico and I won Worlds, and you and I didn’t. 

This time, Lewis just makes a vague, noncommittal noise, tapping her fingers against the boards. “More of a reason to have said something, isn’t it.”

Valtteri squints up at the skylight. Swallows. “You’re saying something now,” she says quietly. “Counts for something.”

Lewis shrugs. “Maybe.”

The front door of the rink opens. Valtteri hears a few of the older students’ voices filter in, their laughter overlapping and echoing through the hallway. Lewis’s shoulders stiffen. She half-straightens up, like she’s thinking of leaving.

“You still haven’t told me why you came here,” Valtteri says, before she can. She has some guesses. The slight bulge of a brace along Lewis’s lower back that Valtteri might have mistaken for a fold in her shirt if she hadn’t been looking; the gossip accounts that have all been reporting for weeks about how sources have seen George trialing new partners, that they might do the swap before the end of next season, even. The Grand Prix de France gold medal sitting in her trophy cabinet, after all those years she and Valtteri spent winning everything on the circuit except that one.

Lewis stops moving. Outside in the hallway, a kid shrieks. Someone in skate guards clomps, muffled, up the stairs. Lewis swallows. Valtteri hears her throat click when she does. 

Just as Valtteri’s about to give up on her and change the subject, Lewis clears her throat. “I think I’m going to cut my hair,” she says. “After the season. Maybe sooner.” She makes a chopping motion with her hand, near her temple. “Just–all of it off.”

Valtteri blinks. Lewis is staring over the ice, still not looking at her. She’s chewing her lip again. There’s a mulish, sharp set to her jaw. Valtteri looks at her and thinks, suddenly, of skating into a twist lift, her hands tight around Lewis’s waist; Lewis’s hands resting over hers, steady and sure, certain that Valtteri would be able to let her go and then catch her on her way back down.

“It would look good on you,” Valtteri says softly, and means it. 

The corner of Lewis’s mouth twitches. “Yeah?” she asks, with a small smile. “Maybe I’ll get you to cut it.” 

A gaggle of kids bursts into the rink behind them, their voices echoing over the ice as they dump their equipment onto the benches. Lewis glances backwards over her shoulder. “Jeez, I just ate up your entire break, huh,” she says, straightening up. “I should get going. I still need to–”

“What are you doing tonight?” Valtteri interrupts, before she loses her nerve. Lewis blinks at her. “There’s a bar that just opened near here. If you wanted–we could go check it out.”

“Oh,” Lewis says, sounding surprised. “I–uh. Actually, yeah. I don’t have anything planned for tonight, so.” She looks back up at Valtteri, a small smile on her face. “Yeah. We could do it.”

Something flutters in Valtteri’s chest. “Okay,” she says. “Uh. Great. I’ll see you tonight, then?” And then, before Lewis can answer, she leans forward and presses a quick kiss to Lewis’s cheek. 

Before she can lean away, Lewis grabs her, pulling her back in. It almost knocks Valtteri off balance; Lewis braces against her to keep both of them upright, squeezing so tightly that her chest hurts. Her nose presses into Valtteri’s shoulder. Valtteri cups the back of her head and feels Lewis sigh against her skin, has to close her eyes against the sudden ache in her chest.

It’s three full, long breaths before Lewis lets go. She crosses her arms and clears her throat, taking a step back. “Yeah,” she says. “It–yeah. I’ll see you tonight. But it was–” she looks back up at Valtteri with a small smile. “It was good seeing you, Val. I’m glad I got to.”

Right after retiring, Valtteri would lie awake in bed some nights, making lists of what she’d say to Lewis if she ever spoke to her again. I’m sorry. I forgive you. I don’t. I wish we’d met anywhere else except where we did. I don’t know if we’d ever have been friends without skating. I’m glad I got out. I wish I hadn’t had to leave you to do it. Everything jams up in Valtteri’s throat trying to get out. 

She takes a deep breath. There’ll be time. Lewis is standing there, warm and real in the morning light, for the first time in longer than she can remember. There’ll be time for all of it. For the first time in longer than she can remember, she actually believes it. 

“Yeah,” she says softly. “I’m glad, too.”

[advancedgalaxyy]

#1

Hello, I understand there is a lot happening with US politics right now. As a queer person myself with family from another country I am scared too. I want to offer resources to all of you that may be struggling to cope with the result of the election. Listed will be ways to contact the government to express concern, keep people around you safe, support for those who are suicidal, and much more. Hotlines/Suicide Hotlines Call Blackline: 800-604-5841 ~ Centers BI&POC, LGBTQ+ Black Femme Lens Trans Lifeline: 877-565-8860 (US), 877-330-6366 (Canada) ~ Run by and for Trans people. Wildflower Alliance Peer Support Line: 888-407-4515 ~ Trained peer supporters. StrongHearts Native Helpline: 844-762-8483 ~ Centering Native Americans & Alaska Natives Thrive Lifeline: 313-662-8209 ~Trans-led and operated. LGBT National Help Center: 888-843-4564 More resources: InclusiveTherapists.com/crisis Hotlines that May Call the Cops LGBTQ Trevor Project Lifeline: 866-488-7386 (Call), 678-678 Text "START", Trevor Project Website National Suicide Crisis Hotline: 988 (Call), PRIDE (Text) Ways to Save Lives (Yours and Others) If you know anybody who may be Trans you can still respect them in private, in public you will not know they were trans. Do something productive to distract you or somebody else from the current chaos, either by drawing a picture, reading a book, learning to bake, or even playing board games. Never mention possible pregnancy/abortion to anybody, not even through social media apps. Delete any and all period tracking apps and start using a planner or physical calendar. Book appointments for a form of birth control (if possible), or to always carry condoms for yourself and others. Look into sterilization options if that's what you're going for (A list of 1000 doctors who will sterilize you, no fight necessary) Protect anybody around you who may be harmed/affected by new policies. Remind loved one that you are there for them. Remind stressed relatives/friends that not all votes have been counted and there is a large push for a recount, Trump will need 2/3 of senate (60)/ 2/3 of the house of representatives (290)/ 3/4 of the states (38) to push for anything truly major. Places to Donate National Network of Abortion Funds Trans Law Center Other Ways to Improve Life Tiktok will be banned, look for other social media sites. Learn to garden as prices for items will skyrocket, especially in winter. Get an air purifier, The Clean Air Act will most likely be stripped of its power. Supply your children with history/social studies education. (If you have any) Do your best to be aware of your health before January. Contact the US government/Ensure your Vote/ETC Ensure your vote is counted via Vote Curing Visit the ALCU (The ALCU is an organization that specifically fights back against harmful laws and bills - They fought Trump off Rapidly during his first presidency and they're overall good for keeping track of resources and similar things.) 1) https://www.whitehouse.gov/contact/ 2) Submit directly to the president. 3) Click/Type your reasoning as, "Election Security" 4) State these reasons in a paragraph, "32 fake bomb threats were called into democratic leaning poll places; rendering polls to be closed for at least an hour, this all occurred in swing states (PA, Nevada, Georgia, ETC.), this is all too coincidental that these things happen and swing in his favor after months of hints of foul play, a lot of people reporting their ballots weren't counted for various reasons that are not very sound seeming (Signature Invalidation, Information that voter could not have had), directly state that an investigation for tampering/interference/fraud is required; not just a recount." 5) *Optional* Use a template, "I would like to add my voice in the call for a re-vote/recount of the 2024 presidential election.