#Vital Signals
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God this panel kinda drives me crazy. From Batman & the Outsiders #17, Shiva asks Duke about his suit, whether it was his choice. And how does Duke respond? He... doesn't. He parrots what is clearly something Bruce said to him, but never clarifies whether it was 'his choice' at all. Because both him and Shiva know it wasn't. And he acknowledges that his suit, with all the Batty-ness (ears, symbol), was specifically designed to make him like Batman.
Then Shiva suggests dark red, which is what Duke wore in We Are Robin and has connotations to Robin as a whole. Duke's reaction - can we let it go? - can be read in many ways, but to me it suggests Shiva's words hit home. He does miss the Robin colours. Becoming the Signal wasn't his choice, but becoming Robin was.
(And throughout this run, Shiva says both Cass and Duke are being held back by Bruce. With Cass this is a clear allusion to being Orphan over Batgirl, so it's not farfetched to read this conversation as being about how Duke was denied Robin to become Signal).
Duke-as-Signal is a symbol of 'people like Batman', but Duke-as-Robin was a symbol of youth, of community, of diversity and of choice. He was a Robin formed without Batman. I know there's no going back, but having Bruce choose the name, the suit, and the time of day that Duke goes out makes the Signal such a fraught identity. I love the yellow, the suit, and the daytime aspect, but I just wish they were Duke's choices, not Bruce's.
#duke thomas#lady shiva#batman#speaking of which lady shiva is always here to put bruce in his place i love it <3#in batman & the outsiders she gives choices to all the poc kids - duke cass and sofia#it's actually vitally important that freedom and choice for these characters of colour is represented by a woc and not bruce#this is not saying bruce is to blame for the signal. he just lacks the perspective to understand what duke needs#like no bruce it was not progressive of you to be like 'this one's different'#um anyway sorry this is my hundredth 'duke should be robin' post i just have feelings about it#meta
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"The Hand thing would never work" people say, and the show depicts exactly how it DOES work.
#she hits the animal in the nose#uses it to keep a point of distance#the hand stays ready to dodge#and the vital points are all kept at a distance#the signal is clear#swan rewatches chaos theory#chaos theory spoilers#the handler#handling things
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Bidding is now open at @fandomtrumpshate! ♡ I'm offering to draw Guardian fanart: drama and novel (any characters, any relationships!) and RPF (Zhubai only), rated up to E, the minimum bid is $20. I do pretty much every genre/mood/topic under the sun (see the links for details and a handful of exceptions). I'll be super happy to illustrate your fic too! Auction #1 | Auction #2 | Auction #3 All auctions are exactly the same and include all 3 categories - it's not one for each. (Which means that until all of them have a bid no one needs to compete with each other at all. :D) The sample drawings in full size + a lot more can be found here on my ao3: drama, novel, RPF. (There's a handful of fics too, but fanart is always tagged.) And here are all my works in all fandoms, to feel out the style. :) Only the last year or so is relevant to the quality you'll be getting. Bidding closes on March 1st, 8pm ET.
Last but not least, the list of all creators offering Guardian works for FTH is here! ♡
#fandom trumps hate#fth 2025#guardian#zhen hun#guardian 2018#guardian drama#guardian novel#guardian priest#镇魂#镇魂 guardian#guardian rpf#zhubai#bai yu#zhu yilong#朱白#白宇#朱一龙#朱一龍#cdrama#cnovel#danmei#fanart#fan art#I mostly picked these specific sample drawings because of the nice symmetry they have when put together like this lmao :D#I needed to crop off some ~vital parts~ of some of them tho#I don't post art on tumblr; ao3 is the only place you can find it#signal boost pls if you feel like doing it? :D
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I pixeled up my sillies
@gooberdingus pspsps hi, waving at you,, only tagging cuz I saw your thing as was like woa
#bruh why are two birds' antenna so long.. girl what you listening to? you be picking up radio signals with those thangs#rain world#iterator#rain world oc#iterator oc#drawins#oc veil of dreams#oc four blue flames#oc lost vitality#oc vision of a past#oc whisper of the wilds#fuckin hell its all of em what the hecc
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My name is Abed.
I’m a survivor from Gaza, holding on to hope in a world that has fallen apart around me. 💔
The life I once knew — my home, my family, my sense of safety — has been shattered by war. Today, I live among the ruins, trying to find a path forward through the rubble and heartbreak. 🏚
Every moment is a battle against fear and uncertainty. What was once ordinary — a safe place to sleep, a future to dream of — now feels like a distant memory. 🕊️
I share my story not to seek pity, but to keep hope alive — to believe that even in the darkest places, kindness can still find a way. 🤍
If my story touches your heart, please consider sharing it or offering support. Every voice, every act of care, brings me one step closer to safety. ✨
Thank you for taking the time to listen. 🙏
Post Link
🫂💙
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Algorithm Updates and Their Impact on Your eCommerce Store
Algorithm updates have a profound impact on eCommerce stores, shaping how they rank in search engine results. These changes can significantly affect visibility and traffic, making SEO strategies crucial for survival and growth in the competitive online retail landscape. Search engines like Google continually update their algorithms to enhance user experience and relevance of search results. For…
#algorithm penalties#algorithm transparency#algorithm update history#algorithmic ranking factors#BERT update#black hat SEO tactics#content quality algorithms#Core Web Vitals updates#Google algorithm updates#Hummingbird update#local search algorithm updates#mobile-first indexing#Panda update#Penguin update#ranking algorithm changes#search engine algorithm#search ranking updates#SEO algorithm changes#SEO best practices#user experience signals#website ranking algorithms#white hat SEO techniques
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today's vetted fundraisers. eid just began - instead of a happy time of togetherness and celebration, families like these are having to spend the holy days amidst the cruelest of circumstances, deprived of all components of safe and healthy life. now is a more vital time than ever to support these campaigns. any contribution you can make is valuable.
june 16th:
Dentist Tamer Al-Deeb, his brother (also a doctor), and their parents (€8,206/€40,000) - @tameraldeeb, verified by @/ibtisams
Samer Abu Ras, his wife Shurooq, and their three young children (kr8,220 SEK/kr450,000 SEK) - @sameraburass, verified by @/ibtisams
Mohammad Awni and his family of six (€1,535/€45,000) - @mohamedawnisblog, verified by @/nabulsi
Mohammed Al-Azayza and his family, including a young child with Down syndrome (kr2,043 SEK/kr200,000 SEK) - @hamouda-az, verified by @/sayruq
Iyad Sami, his wife Amal Mahmoud, and their four children (the family has been separated for months) (CHF291/CHF20,000) - @eyadsami, verified by @/mohamedalanqer
Momen Alostaz's family of ten (including his chronically ill parents and a newborn) (€10,938/€70,000) - @mo98h, verified by @/palipunk
The Abu Shammalah family of eight (€7,194/€100,000) - @ahmed8311, verified by @/el-shab-hussein
Mahmoud Khalaf's family of eight (€6,129/€30,000) - @mahmoudkhalaff, verified by @/ibtisams
Amani Hasan and her three children ($8,249/$17,732) - @amani93gaza, verified by @/nabulsi
Suad Ahmad, her husband, and several extended family members (Suad is pregnant and urgently needs medical care and a safe place to have her baby) ($10,436/$28,000) - @suad-ahmad, verified by @/fallahifag
if the list seems extra long today, take it as a signal that your help, in whatever form you can give, is urgently needed.
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How to Start Writing Again When the Spark Fades
Sometimes the well of creativity runs dry, leaving you staring at a blank page with nothing but frustration. But trust that the art of writing is as much about the journey as it is about the destination. Here are some ideas to help you reconnect with your writing practice when you feel like your passion has dimmed.
Redefine Your Environment Consider taking a deliberate step outside your usual writing space. The environment in which you work can drastically affect your mindset and creative flow. Even if it’s setting up in a different corner of your home, finding refuge in a local café, or enjoying the subtle distractions of a park bench, a change in scenery often signals a mental reset. This isn’t about permanent relocation, just a simple shift can break the monotony and stir new ideas that have been hiding in plain sight.
Embrace Imperfection The pressure to produce perfect prose can be paralyzing. Give yourself permission to create something imperfect yet honest. Think of every sentence you write as a rough sketch, a necessary experiment in understanding your own voice. When you allow yourself the space to write without the weight of perfection, you invite experimentation and genuine self-expression. That freedom lies at the heart of rediscovering why you fell in love with writing in the first place.
Set Incremental Goals for Continuous Momentum When the idea of diving into a full chapter feels overwhelming, scale back to manageable, bite-sized projects that feel achievable. Instead of demanding a polished page, challenge yourself to write a paragraph or even a single sentence each day. These micro-goals build a foundation of small successes, gradually restoring confidence and momentum. Over time, these consistent efforts enrich your creative reservoir, proving that every little step is indeed a victory.
Engage Deeply in the Process of Freewriting Allow yourself to spill thoughts onto the page without judgment or expectation. Freewriting is an exercise in vulnerability and self-exploration, offering you a space to unburden tangled ideas and unexpected insights. In these unfiltered moments, you might stumble upon a germ of an idea or a rediscovered passion that rekindles your creative fire. Embracing this unstructured approach can transform an intimidating blank page into an open canvas of potential you haven't tapped back into.
Rekindle Old Inspirations There is power in revisiting the work and moments that first ignited your creative spirit. Even if it’s rereading an old journal entry, rediscovering a favorite piece of literature, or reflecting on the stories that once moved you, reconnecting with your past inspirations can shed new light on your present creative journey. This reflective practice not only reminds you of your original passion but may also reveal new directions for your current writing endeavors.
Create a Consistent, Loving Writing Routine Creating a structured yet gentle routine can help reestablish your relationship with writing. Treat your writing time as a vital appointment, a moment carved out just for you. Even if inspiration seems scarce, the simple act of sitting down, opening your notebook, and letting words flow without self-censorship can be incredibly healing. Over time, this practice transforms writing from an obligation into a ritual of self-discovery and mindfulness.
Connect with a Community That Understands Engaging with fellow writers can remind you that you’re not alone in this struggle. The shared experience of creative highs and lows can be profoundly comforting. Join writing groups, participate in online forums, or simply reach out to someone whose work inspires you. These interactions foster a sense of belonging and accountability, encouraging you to keep writing even when the path isn’t clear. In the gentle exchange of ideas and feedback, there is often a spark that reignites your dedication.
Every writer’s journey is unique, filled with ebbs and flows. If you’re feeling disconnected, know that these moments are integral to growth. Embrace each phase as an opportunity to rediscover writing on its own terms, and allow your passion to guide you back into the words you love. If you need any advice from me, never be afraid to send me an ask.
Until next time, Rin T.
#on writing#creative writing#writing#writing tips#writers block#how to write#thewriteadviceforwriters#writeblr#writers and poets#writers on tumblr#novel writing#fiction writing#romance writing#writing advice#writing blog#writing characters#writing community#writing help#writing ideas#writing inspiration#writing guide#writing prompts#writing a book#writing resources#writing reference#writing tips and tricks#writers#writing tools#writing life#writing software
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II HANDS II HEAVEN; dr jack abbot x dr!reader
words: 5,800+
content warnings: lowkey SO filthy, but also SO cute, banter, caretaker jack, yearning jack, tad bit angsty, patient does die at some point, may be my favorite one i have written
notes: because dr jack abbot has two hands and boy does he know how to use them
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
“Have you two kissed and made up yet?” Bridget asks, eyeing them.
“In his dreams.”
“In his dreams.” Jack imitates mockingly, high pitched.
“You know, for an old man, you have a lot of growing up to do.”
She can tell by the amused look dancing on Jack’s face that he is about to imitate her words again.
She raises a finger just as his mouth opens, “Don’t-“ she presses her finger to his chest, “you dare.”
His head tilts down. His gaze follows her finger, falling right into her trap. She quickly trails her nail back up over his chin then his lips and finally, flicking him in the nose.
She is cracking up laughing. Bridget is too. And Jack is pretending to be annoyed. “Oh and I’m the one who needs to grow up?!”
“You guys need to get a room. Preferably Trauma 1 because we have a patient incoming.” Bridget shoos them away from her nurses station, a grin still playing on her lips as she shoves two gowns into Jack’s outstretched hands.
Once inside Trauma 1, Jack grabs her arm. He signals for her to lift them as he reaches around her - her back to his front, he ties the gauze gown around her waist and then goes for the tie around her neck. The one they normally never have time to tie anyways.
“You know I love it when you dress up for me.”
His minty breath tickles the back of her neck as he speaks. He can’t see her roll her eyes but he knows that she is. He knows her like the back of his hand.
“And you know I’m still mad at you.”
“Well if you would listen to me for once in your life-“
“You are not my boss anymore. I don’t have to listen to you.”
“Oh, because you listened so well when I was your boss, hm?”
“I can finish tying my gown. Your hands are full.”
“I’ve got two hands.”
And just like that it's decided and he's finishing up tying her gown. They have no reason to be this close to each other anymore but neither of them moves a muscle. He reaches around her to grab a pair of gloves and he takes his sweet time while doing so.
She sneaks a glance at the prominent veins in his forearms and wishes she didn’t. Why does he always have to look so damn good?
The doors are slammed open by a gurney. “Showtime.” is all that tumbles out from her mouth before her and Jack are back in their usual rhythm.
Or their somewhat usual rhythm. In the trauma bay, residents typically stood at the head of the bed. Their main responsibility was keeping the patient’s vitals steady. Protecting the precious breath that told everyone else in the room that the patient still had a fighting chance.
Ever since she became the night shift's second attending six months ago, Jack and her were still getting used to sharing opposite sides of the bed. Jack was used to looking up from the patient and her eyes already being on him, silently asking him for direction. Now, it’s like she forgot he was even in the room.
Unless, of course, they were debating their differing opinions on the standard of care for the patient.
So yeah, maybe Jack had been picking a few unnecessary fights here and there just to get something from her. He never said it was healthy but he didn’t know what else to do.
He missed her. He missed guiding her hand through a procedure and the way she would look back at him with an expectant smile, waiting for his praise. Practically needing it.
He always gave it to her. Usually sticking with “Well done” or “Solid work” because the one time he went to say “Good job”, a “Good girl” slipped halfway out instead. Thank god no one had noticed.
It makes him sound like an ego maniac, and he promises he isn’t, but he relishes in that feeling of her needing him. Or at least thinking she did. Of the fact that the smartest most competent doctor the halls of this ED had potentially ever seen, looked to him for guidance.
He wanted to take care of her - beyond work. He'd come to terms with his crush years ago but also came to terms with the fact he could never have her. At the time he was her attending and even now that he isn't - he is still at least 12 years her senior and carries more than enough baggage for the both of them.
So he settled for taking care of her at work. Sometimes he pushed the boundaries with the praise and the extra teas but he took care of her within the appropriate context of their working relationship. Until now, apparently. Now that she wouldn’t let him.
Jack had been spoiled all these years. Pouring his knowledge into residents, and a lot of them were great, but none of them had ever quite surpassed what he could do in the ED. But now here she was, mopping the floor with him. He’s proud of her. And he would love it even more than he already does if she would just pay an ounce of attention to him. God, he was starting to sound pathetic.
After her first six months of residency, Robby transferred her to the night shift. He told Jack he was getting a good one. One who saw every single patient as a person rather than a box to be checked, even on the bad days. One who probably single handedly kept the patient satisfaction scores of the ED afloat. But that came at a price - it slowed her down. Impeded on her education. She needed to move quicker and Jack was the kind of teacher to teach her how to do just that while still maintaining her inquisitively kind nature.
She was a damn good doctor but Robby knew that under Jack’s watchful eye and baptism by fire teaching style - she could be great. And she was great.
She is great. So far beyond great, Jack catches himself watching her in awe most nights. But right now he was watching her with concern.
The young girl on the table beneath them was not going to make it.
She was normally better than him at this, less emotional, about knowing when to call it.
But he knew why she wasn't going to be right now. The patient on their table looked eerily like her little sister that she had lost to the same kind of drunk driving accident when she was a kid.
The older sister was even out in the family waiting room - holding her sister’s favorite stuffed animal. She had said she was holding on to it while her sister got better. To keep it warm for her.
It was a bright pink stuffed rabbit. The same kind she had clutched the night her sister died. That she never was able to return to her sister. Jack knew he was the only one in the ED that knew that. She’d told him so one night on the roof after a particularly bad shift. What Jack didn’t know was that he was the only person she’d ever told.
They had a way of bringing that out in each other. Neither of them pushed and that’s probably why they could so effortlessly pull stuff out. Neither of them were an open book to anyone but each other. He makes her feel understood. She makes him feel safe. They make eachother feel the most themselves they’ve ever felt.
But right now all he was making her feel was anger.
“Call it.”
“There was just a pulse a second ago.” They both knew there hadn’t been. Jack doesn't say it though.
She had taken compressions over from Whitaker. Wanting to do this one herself. Making it worse on herself.
“Call it.”
“She can still make it. Let me try one more time.”
Jack silently signaled for everyone else to leave the room and move onto their next call. The girl was gone. At least they could all try and replace this horrible memory by hopefully being able to save the next one.
“I said - call it.” Jack’s voice was low but still steady. Still calm. He wasn’t trying to pick a fight this time. He just wanted her to free herself of this burden that was not hers to carry.
“And I said, let me try one-“ compression “more” another compression, “time” compression.
So he let her. Not because he thought it would work. Precisely, the opposite actually. He knew she would never forgive herself if she didn’t feel that she gave every last ounce she had. Selfishly, he also knew she’d never forgive him for calling it earlier than she thought they should have.
One more compression and then a flat line on the monitor.
Beyond the occasional puff of air coming from her mouth as she caught her breath, you could hear a pin drop in the trauma bay.
Jack’s behind her again, gently untying her now bloody gauze gown. She turns to him. As much as they’ve been going at it lately, he is who she wants in these moments. In all the moments, really.
He slides off his gloves and then her own, not breaking eye contact the entire time.
His hands move to her shoulders and then slowly drag down to her triceps - steadying her and studying her. He doesn't speak. He doesn't need to. Just delicately searches her eyes with his own. Asks her if she’s okay and then assures her it’s going to be okay - all without even opening his mouth.
She tries to keep the tears in with deep breaths. Her palm pressing against her forehead.
“Time of death-“ She inhales shakily, “04:44.” She slaps her palm over her mouth like she just summoned death itself with her words. Then the dam breaks.
“Jack, I can’t-“ She barely gets out between hiccups.
“Shhhhh - I know. I will.” Tell the family is what she means. He’ll do that for her. He’d do anything for her.
And then he’s reaching his hands to cup her face and pulling her against him. Letting her cry it out against his chest.
Her arms wrap around his middle, squeezing so hard it was almost like she thought he’d disappear if she loosened her grip. He rubs up and down her back with one hand, cradling her head in his other and pressing the occasional kiss to her temple.
He whispers into her hair, “You are the best emergency physician I have ever seen. If you couldn't save her, no one could. If the person I cared about most in the world had to be in a trauma bay - you are who I would want to be in charge of it.”
That catches her off guard. They spend a lot of time together. More time together than with any of their family or friends or any potential partner. They talked a lot. About basically everything but that private part of their lives. She always assumed it was because neither of them really had much to report back on but his words are the first time she lets her mind think otherwise. That he may have someone that isn’t her. The thought terrifies her beyond belief.
Technically, they were single. They weren’t each other's. But - yes they were.
“Who is that?”
“What?”
“That you care about most in the entire world?”
Jack wasn’t even sure when it happened. Probably in between the dates on the rooftop that were probably only dates to him and the early morning carpools when he purposely took the long way home just to spend more time with her.
He takes a sharp inhale and blinks. Hard - like he’s just realizing now what his answer is. Like it always felt so natural that he never had to think too hard about it, “You.”
They’re both frozen and then she’s huffing a nervous laugh and pulling out of his grip. Avoiding his eye contact. Back to ignoring him. Back to pushing him away.
“Very funny.” She quips as she walks to the door, pretending to be engrossed in attempting to fix the hand sanitizer dispenser that’s been jammed for the last four months.
Jack stays in place like the soldier he is, “I’m serious.”
That brings her gaze back to his. Her jaw drops slightly, her pupils dilated. He thinks he sees hope in her eyes. The observation gives him some too.
He thinks he’s caught her off guard but what she says next practically knocks the wind out of him, “Me too.”
“What?”
“The person I care most about in the entire world. It’s you, Jack.” She doesn’t give him a chance to respond before she’s pushing out of the room.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
They don’t talk again for the rest of their shift. Not really, anyways. The ED is absolutely slammed. They’re basically running from trauma bay to trauma bay, room to room - even once to the ambulance bay. That’s how you know it’s busy.
But wow do they make a fucking phenomenal team. When they are on, they are on. They were close, but they didn't lose anyone else that night.
They catch their breath at the lockers, after the hand off with the day shift.
Jack wraps an arm around her head, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “Go home. I’ll order Thai food to your place. Watch that trash TV you like. Shower. Cry. Cry in the shower. Sleep. Just know you gave everything you had tonight. Do not beat yourself up over this.”
“I don’t think the other people at the gym would appreciate me crying in the showers.”
“Why are you showering at the gym?”
“My apartment building has the water turned off for the day. I don’t know - they are fixing something. And there is no shot in hell I am showering here.”
“Come on. You’re coming home with me. Shower at my place. I’ll cook us breakfast while you do so you can cry in peace.”
The silence hangs between them. An expectant silence but one that says that if they are alone in a place that isn't the hospital - it is going to be damn near impossible to remain professional.
“Jack-“
“Let me take care of you, please. You deserve it, especially after tonight.”
And for once, she listens.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Jack busies himself with the omelettes and tea he’s making because if he thinks too hard, or at all, about her naked in his shower - he is going to combust.
The thought of her fully clothed in his space is enough to do his head in. He cannot even begin to let his brain broach the thought of her naked one floor away.
He is setting her favorite hot sauce, the one he hates but always kept in his fridge in case this moment ever happened, on the counter when he hears the water being turned off upstairs.
A couple light footsteps, the sound of a drawer opening and closing, and then his name. "Jack, where is your lotion?!"
"It's in the cabinet up top - furthest to your right." He yells back. Normally he would go up there and just grab it for her but he only has so much self control. It will all probably go down the gutter if he goes up there and sees her in only a towel.
"I can't reach it."
He curses under his breath and heads up the stairs - two at a time. He is not religious but he is praying to whoever will listen that she is wearing some semblance of the clothes he laid out for her. Now that he thinks about it, that might be worse.
Either way, he is in trouble. He stops outside his bathroom door and knocks lightly, " Can I come in?"
"No, I'd like you to get the lotion down from outside the bathroom." She sasses.
He smirks as he turns the knob, muttering something about her being a smart ass and a pain in his ass. He swallows hard at the sight of her.
She looks stunning because when does she not. He traces her collarbones with his eyes, down her arms, and over her legs - finally up to her face. Her eyebrow is lifted and a coy smirk on her face. Oh, she knows exactly what she is doing.
Jack shakes his head, as if that would get the thoughts of what is hiding under her towel out of his head.
He just clears his throat and reaches up to the cabinet, settling the lotion onto the counter, "Here."
She doesn't even pretend to grab it. Just lets it sit in between the sinks. In between them.
“Thank you - for today. I’m sorry, I’ve been a little bratty lately. I just had to prove to myself I could do things without having you in the room to encourage me to.”
“No, you have nothing to apologize for. I should be apologizing. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how much I would have to get used to you not needing me anymore.”
“I may not need you anymore but I still want you, Jack. I always will. But I probably haven’t shown that too well the past couple months so I’ll cool it with the attitude. I know you’re always just trying to help.”
“You don’t have to do anything on my account.” A beat and then, “It’s hot when you talk back.”
If Jack could shove those words back into his mouth - he would. He doesn't know what came over him, why those words came out - maybe something to do with the way she is staring at him. Eyes half lidded as she looks up at him through her lashes, a subtle grin as she bites her plump bottom limp.
"I am so sorry. That was so inappropriate."
“Jack-“
"We can just pretend I nev-"
She places a hand on his chest to interrupt his rambling and he pauses almost instantaneously, “Jack - I talk back because I think it’s hot when you put me in my place.”
Oh.
He looks down at her and lets out a low whistle, “You have no idea how bad I want you. How bad I’ve wanted this since the day you walked through the doors at the Pitt but I will not take advantage of you.”
His hands stay firmly planted to his sides but gosh she's making it really hard to keep still.
“Not even if I beg?”
He takes a sharp inhale, rubbing the back of his neck and then over his face with his palm, “You had a bad night. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret just because you’re upset”
“Jack, do you remember my first night shift? As an intern?”
“Yeah, of course. Knew I was in trouble from the jump.” He talks faster than she has ever heard him. She can tell he is a bit confused. What does her first intern shift have anything to do with why she is half naked in his bathroom almost four years later?
“That morning, when I went home, I had this dream and- fuck- you couldn’t keep your hands off me. I’ve been upset a lot over the years. I’ve been ecstatic, I’ve been angry beyond belief and every other emotion in between. But the one thing that’s always stayed the same is that at the end of every day, I wished I was coming home to you. I'm not going to regret this because I love you, Jack. No matter what kind of day I have. Good, bad, or ugly - you are always the best part of it."
“God, I think I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear you say that.” His hands fly to cup her jaw, he looks right in her eyes before he kisses her with everything in him. He pulls away barely, his forehead resting on hers, to whisper, “I love you. So much.”
"Can you show me - because I didn't call you up here in just my towel to chit chat."
Jack chuckles, his hands find her hips. He gives them a squeeze before he turns her around to face his bathroom mirror. They lock eyes through the glass and for the second time today, her back was to his front.
“What would everyone say if they heard you were such a slut for me.”
“Probably, ‘In his dreams’”
“Behave.” She can feel Jack smirking into the skin on her neck as he kisses her there. Long and slow - she whimpers at the feeling.
“I’ll think about it.” Her voice comes out shaky - clearly reflecting the effect he is having on her.
All in one swift motion, Jack unties and drops her towel, lightly smacking her ass.
“I said behave.”
She goes to roll her eyes. Not because she doesn't like what he is doing - because she loves it. Absolutely loves riling him up. But he knows her and he knows she's going to do that so before she even can, he smacks her ass again, murmuring a “So fucking perfect” as he rubs the red mark he left.
“Show me you can listen and I’ll be a lot nicer, angel.
All she can do is let out a whimper of his name. It is music to his ears.
Jack trails kisses up her neck then pecks one to her mouth before he’s grabbing her chin. They make eye contact through the mirror, one of his hands on her chin and the other splayed dangerously low pressing against her stomach.
He swipes his thumb against her lips as he whispers in her ear, his stubble tickling her cheek and she can’t help but imagine how it will feel between her thighs. “Let’s put that mouth to better use, huh?”
He swipes two fingers through her glistening folds. He can hear how wet she is. Feel it threatening to drip down her thighs. She moans at the emptiness - his fingers leave her and press their way into her mouth. His fingers weigh heavy against her tongue as her lips close around them, sucking, but never losing his eye contact. Jack groans at the sight.
“Taste yourself for me, baby. Look at how pretty your mouth is when you aren’t giving me attitude.”
Her knees are already threatening to give out and he’s barely even touched her yet. Anyone else wouldn’t notice the slight wobble. But he did. He notices every little detail about her - how could he not?
“You like it that much, hm sweetheart?”
She can’t manage words. Only a low moan and a nod as she presses her back against his front, feeling his bulge through the sweatpants he’d changed into when they’d gotten home. “Jack please, I want to see you. I want to feel you.”
“Greedy, yeah?”
“Jack, please. Too many clothes.”
“Shhh - I told you I was gonna take care of you tonight, yeah? Let me baby. Then you can have me. Be patient.”
Another moan pulled from her.
“You’re the most stunning woman I have ever laid my eyes on, you know that right? And so damn smart. My smart baby, yeah?"
She turns to face him, running her hands over his chest and then down his biceps as he talks. She takes her time. She’s trailed the veins of his large arm muscles with her eyes more times than she can count. Now that she gets to do it with her hands, she may never stop.
She gets to his hands, god those hands. His capable, strong, sturdy hands. She remembers what he said earlier today, about having two hands, and she feels her cheeks tinge pink. She’s seen his hands perform extraordinary miracles but she has a feeling the one he performs on her now will be her favorite.
His hands knead her hips as she goes, both of them relishing in each other's touch, until she breaks the silence. Her wide eyes look up at him. They look so innocent. Her words are anything but, “I want you to fill me up.”
“Fuck me. You’re gonna kill me.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Are you gonna be a good girl and come when I tell you to?”
“Dr Abbot, I’m always a good girl for you. Especially that night you almost called me one right in the middle of the ED.”
Jack is shocked, “You caught that?”
“Touched myself thinking about it that night.”
He practically moans, “My god.” before he turns her back around to face the mirror. One hand on the back of her neck, the other on the small of her back, slightly bending her over.
Finally, finally he presses two fingers into her. Her head falls back onto his shoulder as he pumps in and out of her, both of their breathing heavy.
“I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already soaking wet.”
“For you? Always.”
He kisses her forehead then tilts her head back up by her chin with his free hand.
“Keep your eyes open, look at me baby.”
His fingers are still working on her. She’s almost there. Gasping for air. Her eyes shut and she's right there until...she's not. He's stopped.
Her eyes flutter open and she doesn't even bother to turn around - just stares at him through the mirror, "What the hell?"
“I said keep your eyes open. I want you to see how good you look taking my fingers, angel. Gonna look even better on my cock”
At the reminder, she buck backs against him.
“Not so fast, baby. Gonna make you come on my fingers. Then on my tongue. Then fill you up. How does that sound?”
“Yes, Jack, please. I need it please.”
“You sure you can handle it, baby?”
“I can-fuck, I can handle it.”
Then he’s working her again with his fingers. She keeps her eyes open, drinking in the filthy sight of them. One of his hands cradling her chin as she rides the other one - she is completely naked and Jack is entirely clothed. It makes her so worked up, her orgasm comes quickly.
“That’s it. Good girl—that's my good fucking girl."
Then he’s stepping around her and sinking to his knees in front of her so she can still see herself in the bathroom mirror. He knocks her ankles a little wider. They’d closed a bit after the last orgasm and she gasps at his tongue cleaning up her first mess and going for a second.
His hands wrap around her thighs, holding her in place. She tugs hard at his salt and pepper curls as she unravels. She looks down at him, craving his eye contact.
He slaps her ass again as a reprimand, “Eyes up. I want you to see how pretty you look when you're spreading your legs for me."
The words make her second orgasm tumble out just as fast as the first and she’s pulling him up by the collar of his shirt, placing a blistering kiss on his lips. His hands cradle her jaw and then they are in her hair, tugging slightly.
Their hands desperately clutch at one another as they kiss, gasping into each other’s mouths as if they’ve been starved of one another.
“Jack - clothes off. Now please.”
This time he listens. Then he is back behind her just as quickly as he’s coaxing his length into her. They both sigh at the relief.
“Doing so good for me, baby. Give me one more, yeah?”
He presses his forehead to hers. She nods and he leans up to kiss her temple again before rutting into her. Both of them loudly moaning at the sensation.
“Holy shit. And I thought nothing was gonna beat how fucking delicious you tasted. You feel like fucking heaven, angel.”
His broad hand crowds her neck, forcing her gaze to meet him in the mirror again as his fingers find her clit as he pounds into her from behind. Not too slow, not too fast but intentional - hitting all the right places because although they’ve never done this before he just knows. He knows her.
“Look at how pretty you look taking me.”
“Jack-“ she can’t get the sentence out. She trails off into a string of whimpers and moans as she verges on her third orgasm of the morning. She squeezes her walls around Jack and he grunts, he’s close too.
“So this is all I’ve got to do to get you to listen to me, huh? Why didn’t you just say so baby?”
“Jack-“
“Yeah, sweetheart.” He barely manages to get out.
“Can I come for you?”
At that alone she feels him spilling into her, “Yes baby. Oh my god, yes.” he falters, caging his arms around her, steadying them against the counter as they both ride out their highs.
“That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
“Me too- told you to start listening to me.”
“You’re filthy.”
“And you fucking love it.” Jack smirks as he uses one hand to wipe her clean with a warm washcloth, the other hand holds her head against his lips. He presses a kiss to her temple then her lips and then up and down her shoulder and neck until she is a giggling, blushing mess.
Jack picks up his shirt he had laid out for her but leaves the pants. She lets him tug it over her head and hugs him tight when he's done. Arms around his middle, just as she had done earlier. He dips his lips to the crown of her head, arms around her shoulders as he inhales his shampoo in her hair. It makes him want to melt.
He plants a kiss into her hair, "Come on - lets get some food in you."
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Jack didn't think his life could get any better after what just occurred in his bathroom but here she was - barefoot in his favorite shirt - prancing around his kitchen. She fiddles with the police scanner, he told her she could find one of the music radio channels instead. He used the police scanner as a distraction but he doesn’t want any distractions from her.
He restarts the omelettes because he got a little distracted before. He doesn't recognize the song that is on but she must - the way a grin bubbles from her lips. He kisses it off and pulls her into his side as he cooks.
Your love run through me like lava
Pull my fit over these hips
You grip, I grind
Then taste this wine, I'ma taste what's mine
Jack couldn't wait to taste her again. And she couldn't wait to taste him for the first time. If they hadn't just worked a twelve hour shift with little to no food - omelettes would be the last thing on their mind.
'I'll never stop you, you'll never stop me
From bein' whatever we need to be
And in these dark times, I'm so glad that this love is blinding
'Cause all I see is the best of you and all you see is the best of me
And you bring out the best of me
And all I see is everything
Your goals, your glow, your inner being
And our bigger meaning
Jack decided he liked this song. It reminded him of them. They brought life into this world one hour and were saying goodbye to it in the next. But in both hours they helped people. And they helped each other by loving each other through it. Their purposes were intertwined - both inside and outside of that hospital.
So, let's lose us in these sheets, yeah
And when I get up to walk, I wanna feel weak, yeah
Well, I ain't goin' far
So, stay where you are
Feel like you partied in Venus and we woke up in Mars
"You're not going to be able to walk tomorrow. Could barely get downstairs." Jack smiled to himself thinking of how he'd carried her down the stairs just moments ago.
"Oh shut up and dance with me." He turned the stove top off and turned to her. These omelettes were never getting made.
With the way she was looking at him - he was perfectly fine with that.
I been waitin' my whole life
And I'm gonna give you the best years of your life
You and I
He twirled her around as they danced - her singing the last words of the song to him. He didn't care that she had the world's worst singing voice - he was still blushing. Because she'd already given him the best years of his life - he couldn't possibly imagine the happiness that lied ahead of them now that they were finally letting themselves have it.
He felt himself getting emotional. He tugged her to his chest, cradling her head, mindlessly pressing kisses to it - ensuring she was real. That this dream was real.
"Jack"
"Hm, baby?"
The cutest yawn he’d ever heard and then, "Take me to bed, please."
Yep, definitely real.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
They'd been in bed cuddling for a mere five minutes when Jack's phone dings on his bedside table.
“You are not seriously on call right now?” Her head pops up off his chest and he has never been more annoyed at Robby for texting him than he is right now.
Jack groans as he reaches over, “No, just a question from Robby about that heart attack case we had this morning.”
“He can figure it out.”
“Let me answer - it will take two seconds.”
Jack types or at least tries to. She kisses up his neck - lightly sucking at the sensitive spots and then licking over them. Never doing enough to leave a mark. They don't need those questions at work tomorrow. But enough to make him dizzy.
Her legs are tangled in his and he lightly slaps her ass, “Stop being so hot please, I’m trying to get my work done.”
“Work? Flirting with Robby is more like it.”
“My bad flirting is reserved only for you.”
She points at his chest like she had done this morning, “Better be.”
He looks down and she flicks her fingers up, flicking his nose a lot lighter than she had earlier.
Jack is quicker now, grabs her finger and uses it to gently tug - to wrap her arms around his neck and pull her on top of him. Her legs fall to either side of his waist. It is hard to tell where she begins and he ends but they are a ball of laughter as they settle into each other.
She rests her head in the crook of his neck, placing a kiss there as he does the same to her forehead. Her hands play with the curls at the nape of his neck. One of his rubs up and down her thigh. Then her back. The other in her hair massaging her scalp, lulling her to sleep.
“Get some sleep, baby. I’ll punish you for that when we wake up.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“Behave”
“Only cause you said so.”
They both fall asleep with grins on their faces. And wake up with them too.
#jack abbot#the Pitt#the pitt fanfiction#the pitt fic#jack abbot x female reader#jack abbott x female reader#jack abbot x you#jack abbot x reader#dr jack abbot fanfic#dr jack abbot x reader#dr jack abbott#dr jack abbot#jack abott#jack abbot smut
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Hi
I'm Survivor of the 2023 Genocide and
I'm asking you personally, can you please take a look at my campaign.. at my lost present.. my lost future.😔
I'm human, and I'm asking you to act from your humanity.
Thank you ❤️
✅️Campaign verified✅️
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Creating Fear in Your Characters: A Writers Guide
Creating authentic emotions is vital for immersive storytelling, which is why I decided to make this series on how to write different emotions. After exploring rage, and sadness it's now time to delve into fear!
Fear is a powerful emotion that can manifest in various ways, from subtle apprehension to paralyzing terror. Here's a guide on how to write fear effectively, covering different aspects of your characters' behavior and reactions.
Facial Expressions
Fear often manifests first in facial expressions, conveying the initial shock or unease. Describe these expressions to immerse readers in your character's emotional state:
Widened Eyes and Dilated Pupils: Show the eyes widening in response to a sudden threat, with dilated pupils indicating heightened alertness.
Tense Jaw and Clenched Teeth: Mention the clenching of jaw muscles or teeth, signaling internalized stress or anxiety.
Furrowed Brow and Raised Eyebrows: Describe the furrowing of the forehead and raised eyebrows, revealing worry or confusion.
Quivering Lips or Lip Biting: Note subtle lip movements like quivering or biting, reflecting nervousness or fear.
Frozen or Stiff Facial Muscles: Highlight moments of fear-induced immobility, where facial muscles become tense and rigid.
Body Language and Gestures
Fear can also be expressed through body language and gestures, showcasing your character's instinctual responses to danger or threat:
Backing Away or Recoiling: Describe your character instinctively moving backward or recoiling from the source of fear, signaling a desire to retreat.
Raised Shoulders and Tensed Posture: Show how fear causes the shoulders to rise and the body to tense up, indicating readiness for fight or flight.
Trembling Hands or Shaking Limbs: Mention the trembling of hands or shaking of limbs, reflecting nervousness or anxiety.
Covering Vulnerable Areas: Describe your character instinctively covering vulnerable areas like their neck or torso, symbolizing a protective gesture.
Fidgeting or Restlessness: Note any fidgeting or restlessness, such as tapping feet or wringing hands, as signs of inner turmoil and fear.
Vocal Cues and Dialogue
Fear can alter vocal cues and dialogue, affecting how your character speaks and communicates their emotions:
Quavering Voice or Shaky Speech: Describe the voice quivering or becoming shaky, indicating nervousness or fear.
Rapid Breathing and Gasping: Mention rapid breathing or gasping for air, showcasing the physical impact of fear on the respiratory system.
Stammering or Hesitant Speech: Note any stammering or hesitant speech patterns, reflecting the character's struggle to articulate their thoughts coherently.
Sudden Silence or Lack of Verbal Response: Show moments of sudden silence or the inability to respond verbally, highlighting the overwhelming nature of fear.
Repetitive Phrases or Vocalizations: Describe repetitive phrases or vocalizations, such as muttering prayers or chanting reassurances, as coping mechanisms in fearful situations.
Reactions and Physical Responses
Fear triggers various physical responses in your characters, showcasing the body's instinctual reactions to perceived threats:
Increased Heart Rate and Sweating: Mention the character's heart rate increasing and sweating profusely, reflecting heightened physiological arousal.
Dilated Pupils and Heightened Senses: Describe dilated pupils and heightened sensory perception, as the character's senses become more attuned to potential dangers.
Muscle Tension and Rigidity: Note muscle tension and rigidity, as the body prepares for action or defense in response to fear.
Nausea or Stomach Churning: Show how fear can lead to feelings of nausea or stomach churning, as the body's stress response impacts digestive functions.
Fight, Flight, or Freeze Response: Highlight the character's instinctual response to fear, whether it's a readiness to fight, a desire to flee, or a state of frozen immobility.
Types of Fear and Emotional Depth
Different types of fear can evoke varying emotional responses in your characters, adding depth to their portrayal and the narrative:
Startle Fear: Describe the sudden, reflexive fear triggered by unexpected events or loud noises, leading to a quick, intense reaction.
Apprehensive Fear: Show the lingering sense of unease or dread that accompanies anticipated threats or impending danger, heightening tension over time.
Terror: Depict the overwhelming, paralyzing fear that arises from extreme danger or horrifying experiences, impacting the character's ability to think or act rationally.
Phobias: Explore specific phobias that trigger irrational and intense fear responses, shaping how your character navigates their environment and interactions.
Trauma-Induced Fear: Address fear resulting from past traumas or experiences, influencing the character's behavior and emotional resilience in present situations.
Verbs and Adjectives for Writing Fear
Here's a list of verbs and adjectives to help you convey fear effectively in your writing:
Verbs: tremble, cower, gasp, quiver, shrink, freeze, recoil, sweat, pant, gulp, shudder
Adjectives: terrified, anxious, alarmed, horrified, shaken, jittery, panicked, petrified
#quillology with haya#hayatheauthor#haya's book blog#haya blogs#writers on tumblr#writer community#writing fear#writer tools#scary stories#writer blog#writer stuff#writer wednesday#writer tips#creative writing#writing emotion#writers of tumblr#writerscommunity#writeblr#writing community#writer spotlight#writer things#writing prompt#writing tools#writing stuff#writing#writing life#writing inspo#writing help#writing advice
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A major review of over 67,000 animal species has found that while the natural world continues to face a biodiversity crisis, targeted conservation efforts are helping bring many species back from the brink of extinction.
The study draws on data from the IUCN Red List, the world's largest database of species conservation status. The researchers say their results, reported in the journal PLOS Biology, highlight both the successes and the need for urgent action.
The world is facing a global biodiversity crisis, with 28% of more than 160,000 assessed species threatened with extinction, and an estimated one million species facing this fate due to human activities. However, conservation measures can be successful if there is concrete evidence about what works.
The researchers, led by the University of Cambridge with the IUCN, BirdLife International, and Oxford and Durham Universities, used Red List data to assess whether conservation measures had been put in place, and whether those actions had a positive impact on a given species' conservation status.
"We found that almost all the species that have moved from a more threatened category to a less threatened category have benefited from some sort of conservation measures," said lead author Ashley Simkins, a Ph.D. candidate in Cambridge's Department of Zoology. "It's a strong signal that conservation works."
While there is no 'one size fits all' solution, the researchers observed some connections between conservation success stories. Many of these species live in isolated areas, such as islands, where intensive conservation efforts—such as habitat protection, captive breeding and reintroductions—can be fully implemented.
"While biodiversity loss is a genuine crisis, it's vital that we celebrate the success stories wherever and whenever we can," said Simkins. "It's so hard for a species to improve its conservation status, but with the right effort, we can turn things around."
The Iberian lynx, once the world's most endangered cat, has rebounded from just a few hundred individuals to a few thousand. Likewise, the kākāpō, a flightless parrot from New Zealand, has benefited from dedicated recovery programs. And the European bison, which was hunted to extinction in the wild in the early 20th century, now roams parts of Eastern Europe thanks to sustained conservation efforts over decades.
Marine species have also seen dramatic recoveries. Humpback and blue whales, once driven to the brink of extinction by commercial whaling, have made a comeback after an international moratorium on whaling. However, despite these success stories, the study found that six times more species are declining than improving.
The researchers say that, like human health care, preventative measures in conservation are preferable and more cost-effective to emergency interventions.
"Humans have gotten pretty good at what could be considered 'A&E' conservation—focusing on species at very high risk of extinction," said Simkins. "What we're less good at is preventing species from becoming threatened in the first place. We need to move beyond treating the symptoms of biodiversity loss and start addressing the root causes."
The researchers also emphasize the need for collaborative, locally driven conservation. In Papua New Guinea, for example, conservationists worked with local communities to replace tree kangaroo hunting with sustainable forms of animal protein, including farming of chickens and fishing—an approach that benefitted both people and wildlife.
"It's vital that we as conservationists are working with stakeholders, rather than dictating to them, whether that's an Indigenous community in Papua New Guinea or a farmer in Somerset," said Simkins.
"Conservation doesn't have to be a zero-sum game—there are compromises that can benefit both the natural world and human society."
"In this climate of constant stories about wildlife declines and insufficient political action to protect nature, it's important to realize that there are also many success stories and that conservation efforts are making a real, demonstrable impact on the world," said co-senior author Dr. Silviu Petrovan, also from the Department of Zoology. "Conservation works if given the chance."
"This research sheds light on which actions to save species have been effective, and what interventions are needed," said co-author Dr. Stuart Butchart, Chief Scientist at BirdLife International. "Governments need to turn their words into actions, and rapidly scale up efforts to save species from extinction and help populations to recover. Safeguarding our natural heritage for future generations depends upon this."
"The IUCN Red List of Threatened Species informs and guides on-the-ground conservation decisions; actions which are further guided by the research presented in this publication," said co-author Craig Hilton-Taylor, Head of the IUCN Red List.
"Almost everyone will have their own favorite example of a conservation success story, whether it's the bald eagle in North America, or the red kite in the UK," said Simkins. We need joint action to ensure these positive stories aren't the exception—they're the norm."
#science#animal welfare#biodiversity#endangered species#environmentalism#environment#nature#animals#conservation#critically endangered#endangered animals#success stories
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𝐈𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐜
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What is Imbolc?
Imbolc is a festival that marks the midpoint between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox, occurring around February 1-2. Known as Brigid’s Day or Candlemas, it celebrates the first stirrings of spring and the return of light. The name Imbolc translates to “in the belly,” symbolizing new life, growth, and the creative potential that is awakening within the earth. It is a time of purification and renewal, where the energy of the earth begins to rise, bringing warmth and vitality to the whole world.
Imbolc is often dedicated to Brigid, the goddess of fire, healing, poetry, and craftsmanship. Brigid is associated with both the hearth and the forge, embodying the transformative powers of fire and light. As the days grow longer and the sun strengthens, we honor her influence in bringing fertility and growth to the land. The first signs of spring, such as the lactation of ewes and the appearance of snowdrops, are seen as blessings from Brigid, signaling that life is returning.
Imbolc is also a festival of light, a time to celebrate the increasing daylight through the lighting of candles, bonfires, and lanterns. As the earth begins to thaw and the seeds of spring stir beneath the soil, Imbolc offers a space for spiritual growth and creative awakening. It is a perfect time to clear away the stagnant energies of winter, refresh the soul, and prepare for the vibrant months to come. The act of lighting candles not only honors the growing light but also serves as a reminder of the inner light within us all, waiting to shine brightly in the coming seasons.
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Goddess Brigid
Brigid, one of the most revered deities in the Celtic pantheon, is also known as Lady of the Sacred Flame. She is the goddess of healing, fire, smithcraft, creativity, animals, hearth and poetry, Imbolc is her Sabbat, a time dedicated to honoring her influence on creativity and new beginnings. Her symbols are fire, poetry, lambs and fertility. Brigid is often depicted with a flame emerging from her head or a serpent coiled around her, representing the powerful energy she brings. She is also a goddess of protection, childbirth, women, blacksmithing and life.
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The Return of Light and the First Signs of Spring
Imbolc marks the shift from winter to the first signs of spring. Days start to get longer, and you can feel the earth beginning to wake up, even though winter isn’t completely gone. It’s the time when the sun starts to grow stronger, and we begin to see early signs of new life. During Imbolc, many light candles or bonfires in Brigid's honor, celebrating the return of light and the growing strength of the sun as the days grow longer.
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Brigid's Cross
A traditional symbol of Imbolc, Brigid’s Cross is woven from reeds or straw and represents both protection and blessings. It’s believed to offer protection from fire and lightning, making it an essential symbol of Brigid’s influence. In Ireland, it was common to hang Brigid’s Cross on the rafters of homes to invoke her protective energy.
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Brigid's Flame
According to legend, Brigid lit a flame on the hill of Kildare, pledging to keep it burning in her honor. This flame was said to burn continuously, symbolizing her eternal presence and influence over the cycles of life. The fire became a sacred symbol, tended by the Brigidine Sisters for centuries, representing not just physical warmth, but the power of creativity and healing.
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Magic Correspondences
Planets: Sun, Moon, Venus
Season: Midpoint between Winter and Spring
Element: Earth, Fire
Time of Day: Dawn
Tarot: The Star, The Empress, The Ace of Wands
Colors: White, Light Yellow, Green, Gold, Silver, Lilac, Pale Pink, Purple
Herbs: Chamomile, Clover, Angelica, Heather, Basil, Bay Laurel, Willow, Rosemary, Milk Thistle, Coltsfut, Lavender,
Fruits: Orange, Lemon, Pomegranate, Apple, Pear, Blackberry (Brigid's favorite fruit)
Vegetables: Leek, Potato, Carrot, Turnips, Garlic
Runes: Sowilo, Berkano, Algiz, Kenaz
Crystals: Carnelian, Amethyst, Garnet, Onyx, Ruby, Citrine, Clear Quartz, Milk Quartz
Trees: Rowan, Willow, Birch
Goddesses: Brigid, Demeter, Hestia, Vesta, Aphrodite, Ceres, Venus, Arianrhod, Cerridwen, Gaia, Aradia, Athena, Minerva
Gods: Faunus, Eros, Pan, Cupid, Aenghus Og
Dragon: Fafnir
Flowers: Snowdrops, Crocus, Daisy, Dandelion, Chicory
Animals: Lamb, Sheep, Cow, Deer, Groundhog, Hedgehog, Snake, Swan, Wolf, Bear, Boar
Magical Powers: Purification, Renewal, Creativity, Fertility, Awakening, New Beginnings, Hearth and Home, Healing, Hope, Inspiration, Cleansing, Protection
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Activities To Do:
🐑 Light candles or a bonfire to honor the return of the sun.
🐑 Make an Imbolc altar.
🐑 Rest and enjoy the midwinter season doing cozy activities.
🐑 Wear the colors of the season.
🐑 Cook or bake seasonal dishes, especially fresh bread, cheese, or other dairy products.
🐑 Make Brigid's cross.
🐑 Take a walk in nature and collect branches and stones to add to your altar.
🐑 Donate to animal shelters or send wishes for the animals born during this season, especially lambs.
🐑 Eat fresh bread or drink milk
🐑 Clean your house to invite new positive energy.
🐑 CREATE ANYTHING!! whether it’s art, crafts, edits or poetry.
🐑 Write the sigil of Imbolc somewhere visible to attract its energy( I usually do this on a piece of paper that I put on my altar or on my arm)
🐑 Take a bath with lavender or cinnamon essential oil
🐑 Read about the goddess Brigid
🐑 If it’s a sunny day, celebrate the festival of light by spending time outdoors and letting the sun purify you.
🐑 Do offerings for your deities
🐑 Dance to festive music, feel the joy of the season, and let your inner fire shine :D
🐑 Try spinning or crafting with wool to honor traditional Imbolc crafts.
🐑 Look for seasonal flowers like snowdrops or crocus and bring some into your home for decoration.
🐑 Plant seeds if the weather allows, symbolizing new beginnings and growth.
🐑 Do spells for fresh starts and set intentions
🐑 Worship Goddess Brigid or any deities you feel connected to during this time.
🐑 Read poetry to celebrate the creative energy of the season.
🐑 Make an Imbolc Magick Spell Jar
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂
Food and Drinks:
Dairy products (or vegetarian alternatives), like milk, cheese, and yogurt, freshly baked bread, muffins, waffles, blackberry jam, blackberry cakes (anything with blackberries), lemon cake, poppy seed cakes, biscuits coated in sesame seeds, dishes with bold spices, seeds such as sunflower, poppy, and sesame (for Imbolc seeds are very meaningdul), red cabbage, oats, butter, honey, garlic, scones, pancakes, crepes, pickles, cheese pie, oatcakes, bannock, mashed potatoes, colcannon, chili peppers, eggs, apple tarts, spiced nuts, roasted vegetables, hearty soups, grain-based salads, and citrus fruits, such as orange, lemon or pomelo). Don’t forget to make a wish while flipping your pancakes on Imbolc! <3
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂
useful sources: Wicca: A Modern Guide To Witchcraft & Magick; Encyclopedia of Witchcraft: The Complete A-Z for the Entire Magical World by Judika Illes
gifs credit: Pinterest
Tip Jar🌲
#imbolc#candlemas#magic#magick#winter#deity work#paganism#deity worship#witch#february#winter magic#sabbath#witchy#wicca#witches#goddess brigid#witchcraft#pagan witch#witch community#witchcore#witchblr#hellenic community#hellenic#hellenic polytheism#hellenic paganism#hellenism#hellenic polytheist#magic correspondences#hellenic pagan#greek mythology
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hii hope youre doing great btw !!! i really love your stories and writing !!
so i wanna ask how about scoups dating an idol, and when they have to perform in the same events, but his partner suddenly fainted when her groups just finished performing. i just wanna know like how he would react hehehe thank youuu and im so sorry for my broken english since its not my first language :( but i hope you would understand it !!
In the Moment | idol!Scoups x idol!reader | angst



The atmosphere backstage was electric as Seventeen prepared for their own performance. The awards show had everyone on edge, but Seungcheol couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. His eyes were fixed on the stage where Y/N’s group was performing, and despite the cheers of the crowd, he couldn’t ignore the unease building inside him.
Y/N’s movements were slower than usual. She looked off—tired, shaky, and strained in a way that didn’t seem right. Seungcheol watched, his heart pounding, as she struggled to keep up with the choreography. Every move seemed like it required more effort than the last, and he couldn’t stop the worry building in his chest.
He could see her pushing herself through the performance, but with each step, it was more obvious that she was fading. Her body seemed to be fighting against her, but she held on, determined to finish the routine.
And then, at the climax of the performance, it happened. Y/N stumbled. Her knees gave way, and before anyone could react, she collapsed to the ground, right in front of the stage.
Seungcheol’s heart stopped.
He didn’t think. He didn’t even wait for the signal. His mind screamed at him to act, and without hesitation, he turned to the staff beside him.
“Get her down here. Now!” Seungcheol shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.
The staff members hesitated for a moment, but Jeonghan, standing beside him, quickly jumped into action. "Call an ambulance, and get a doctor—now!" His calm demeanor masked the concern in his eyes, but his voice was sharp, urging the staff into motion.
Seungcheol didn’t care about anything else. His focus was entirely on Y/N. The moment he saw her fall, he felt the world slow down around him. His heart was in his throat, and he couldn’t afford to waste another second.
Within moments, two staff members appeared at the side of the stage, carefully lifting Y/N's limp body, guiding her toward the backstage area. Seungcheol was already there, waiting, pacing nervously.
He didn’t care who saw him. He didn’t care about the crowd or the performance waiting for him. All that mattered was Y/N.
As soon as they reached the backstage door, Seungcheol rushed forward. He gently but firmly took her from their hands, cradling her in his arms as though she was the most fragile thing in the world.
“Y/N, come on wake up you're safe now.” he murmured, his voice thick with worry. Her skin was cold and pale, and he could feel her shallow breathing against his chest. She was out of it, barely conscious, but he could still feel the faint pulse beneath his fingertips.
His heart hammered as he moved swiftly toward a quiet room. He didn’t let go of her once, even as the staff tried to clear the way. He carried her as if she weighed nothing, each step more urgent than the last.
When they reached the room, he gently laid her on the couch, pushing aside any distractions in his path. His hands shook as he brushed a lock of hair from her face, checking her temperature with his palm. She was still too cold, her breathing shallow and uneven.
The staff was quick to follow, bringing in a doctor, but Seungcheol didn’t leave her side. He stayed close, hovering protectively, watching her like a hawk. His eyes never left her face as the doctor began to check her vitals.
“Is she going to be okay?” Seungcheol asked, his voice tight, almost desperate.
The doctor nodded, though his expression was serious. “She’s just exhausted, overworked and dehydrated. We’ll need to keep an eye on her for a bit, but she’ll be fine with rest.”
Seungcheol let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He leaned over and gently stroked Y/N’s hand, whispering to her, “You scared me, Y/N. Please, don’t ever do that again.”
Her eyelids fluttered, and she gave him a small, weak smile. “I didn’t mean to... worry you.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, you know that, right?” he said softly, his voice low but firm. “Just take care of yourself. You’re important to me.”
Y/N blinked slowly, still feeling the effects of the exhaustion. "I pushed myself too hard."
He shook his head, his brow furrowing. “It’s not worth it, Y/N. I can’t stand seeing you like this.”
The doctor gave them a moment before leaving to check on the rest of the team, leaving Seungcheol alone with her. He stayed close, holding her hand, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, not caring if anyone heard. “I’m here. Always.”
Y/N let out a faint sigh, finally allowing herself to relax, her body sinking into the cushions. And for the first time that night, Seungcheol allowed himself to breathe, knowing she was safe with him.
#seventeen#seventeen x reader#seventeen x y/n#svt fanfic#svt x reader#svt x y/n#seventeen fanfic#seventeen imagines#svt imagines#svt angst#seventeen angst#scoups x you#svt scoups#scoups angst#scoups x reader#scoups fanfic#scoups oneshot#seventeen scoups#scoups#choi seungcheol#idol x reader#scoups x y/n
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Any casual observer of the Supreme Court can see what many prestigious constitutional lawyers can’t, which is that the conservative justices are frequently accomplices to Trump’s assault on democracy—a flag signaling support of the January 6 insurrection flew outside Justice Samuel Alito’s house. (Alito, vital specimen of right-wing masculine energy that he is, blamed his wife.) That sort of open partisanship is a bit inconvenient for Roberts, however, who during his confirmation hearing famously compared justices to umpires calling balls and strikes in a baseball game. A more appropriate sports analogy for how Roberts and his right-wing comrades approach cases appeared a few months later, when several referees in the Italian soccer league were implicated in fixing matches for top teams during the 2006 Calciopoli scandal.
Why Trump Thanked John Roberts - The Atlantic
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KID



Summary : You discover that you're pregnant while on a mission on a completely different planet in another galaxy, and the father is your captain, Han Yun Jae.
Pairing: Captain!Han Yun Jae x reader
Warnings : suggestive, age gap, pregnancy, enemies to lovers

You placed the blood sample into the self-analysis machine and pressed the button to start the process. Your eyes darted around the room as you anxiously checked for any signs of someone approaching while the machine worked.
It’s been about three months since you left Earth, bound for another planet to explore, test, and determine if it could sustain human life. Every two years, teams like yours are sent on eight-month missions to scout new worlds. The organization dispatches countless teams across the galaxy to increase humanity’s chances of finding a suitable home.
The machine beeped, signaling that the results were ready. It started printing, the faint sound of ink being laid on the paper filling the room. Nervously, you bit your thumbnail, your eyes flickering around as you waited. The moment it finished, you snatched the sheet, your hands trembling as you scanned the results frantically.
beta-hCG hormone: 11,233 mIU/mL.
Fuck.
You see, the beta-hCG hormone determines if a woman is pregnant. Levels below 5 mIU/mL indicate no pregnancy, but anything above that confirms it. Beta-hCG levels double every 48 to 72 hours, which also helps estimate how far along the pregnancy is.
You are roughly three months pregnant.
How had you missed the signs for three whole months? you kept blaming the vomiting, mood swings, headaches, missed periods, and cravings on the stress of being in space. It all seemed so obvious now.
You pulled out your vitals smartwatch to update your status, indicating your pregnancy so it wouldn’t send you period reminders. As you filled out the prompts, answering the usual medical questions, you froze at the final one.
What date do you think you became pregnant?
The words stared back at you, and you stopped breathing. Slowly, you navigated to the calendar and selected the date—the night you made a huge mistake. The night you slept with your captain, Han Yun Jae. The man you couldn’t stand. And who couldn’t stand you.
It happened the night before the mission began. The team had decided to drink together in his office as a farewell to Earth. you had a few drinks, and soon enough, you was blurting out stupid things.
Everyone else had already left. you was the only one still there, struggling to stay upright. you tried to push yourself to your feet but ended up leaning heavily against the wall for support as you made your way to the door. Yun Jae, meanwhile, was tidying up, collecting the empty bottles when he turned and noticed you crash to the floor.
He laughed.
Groaning against the cold, hard surface, you muttered, “Ajhussi, it’s not funny. Why are you laughing?” you tried to push yourself up but barely managed to lift your upper half.
“I give up,” you mumbled, flopping onto your back. “I’m sleeping here.” Covering your eyes with your arm to block the soft ceiling light, you got ready to pass out on the floor.
“No, you’re not,” Yun Jae said, clearly unimpressed as he continued cleaning his desk.
“Pretty sure I am,” you retorted, your words slurring. “Could you pass me a blanket? That would be so sweet of you—for once.”
You heard his footsteps approach and felt his shadow fall over you.
“Y/N, get up,” he ordered, his tone exasperated.
“You had a chance to be sweet, and you blew it,” you said, stubbornly refusing to move.
He crouched down beside you. “Y/N, get up,” he repeated, but you ignored him, lying there defiantly.
“Maybe that’s why you’re still single at fifty,” you muttered, shooting him a smug grin.
“I’m thirty-nine,” he snapped.
“Same thing. You’re old,” you teased, earning a heavy sigh of frustration from him.
“Y/N,” he said again, his voice taking on an edge of irritation.
You finally lifted your arm from your eyes and glanced at him with a smirk. “Ajhussi~,” you sang in a playful, whining tone.
“Last warning,” he growled.
“You sound like my dad,” you said with a laugh, enjoying his growing frustration.
“Maybe that’s because you’re acting like a child,” he shot back sharply.
The smile fell from your face, replaced by a frown. “Stop calling me a kid,” you said firmly, your brows furrowing. “I’m almost thirty. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“Then get up,” he challenged.
You stubbornly turned your head away from him. “I can’t,” you mumbled, your voice tinged with something almost pitiful.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, without warning, you felt his arm slide beneath your knees and another under your back.
“What are you doing?” you asked as he lifted you effortlessly off the floor.
“Taking you to your room,” he replied gruffly.
You didn’t argue. you let him carry you down the hallway, though he nearly dropped you a couple of times—he was drunk too. When you reached your room, he set you down so you could unlock the door. you fumbled for your keys, but your vision blurred. Bending down to meet the lock’s height, you tried again, only for the key to fall from your shaking hand.
“Fuck,” you muttered, straightening up too quickly. The dizziness hit you like a wave, and you swayed, trying to regain your balance.
Yun Jae sighed, picked up the keys, and opened the door himself. He tossed the keys onto the counter inside, then stood there, holding the door open with an irritated expression. He was clearly eager to get this over with and go to bed.
“Thank you very much, ajhussi,” you said sarcastically, bowing in mock gratitude.
As you bent forward, you nearly lost your balance again, pitching toward the floor. Yun Jae caught you at the last second, groaning in frustration.
“What a dumb woman,” he muttered, hauling you upright by my forearm and steadying you with a hand on you waist.
He guided you toward the bed, but just as he was about to set you down, you tripped over an empty sample container. Instinctively, you grabbed onto him for support—and dragged him down with you.
He falls on top of you.
He's heavy, but not unbearable. His face is only inches away from mine, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. For a moment, neither of you moves. It’s like time itself has frozen, holding you in this strange, uncomfortable limbo.
“Y/N,” he mutters, his voice low and strained, though whether it’s from anger or something else, you can’t tell.
“What?” you whispered back, my voice barely audible.
His eyes lock onto mine, sharp and focused despite the haze of alcohol clouding both your senses. you can’t bring yourself to look away, even though your heart is racing, pounding so hard that you are sure he can hear it.
“You… are such a pain in the ass,” he says, his tone half-annoyed, half-something-else.
“And you’re—” Your retort dies in my throat as his gaze drops to your lips.
The air between you shifts, suddenly thick with tension. Your breathing quickens as you realize he hasn’t moved away yet. Instead, he’s still hovering over you, his weight pressing you slightly into the bed.
“You should get off me,” you manage to say, though your voice lacks conviction.
He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his lips twitch, almost like he’s fighting some internal battle. “You’re right,” he finally says, but he doesn’t move. His voice is quieter now, almost a whisper. “I should.”
But he doesn’t.
Instead, his hand, still gripping your arm for balance, softens its hold. His thumb brushes against your skin, sending a jolt through your entire body. you hate the way your stomach flips at the contact, hate the way your heart seems to betray you by beating even faster.
“Yun Jae,” you say, but it comes out weaker than you intend.
And then, before you can say anything else, his lips crash into yours.
It’s not soft or tentative; it’s desperate, rough, and filled with the kind of frustration that’s been building between you for months. you freeze for a second, your brain scrambling to catch up with what’s happening. But then, without thinking, you kiss him back.
The alcohol has dulled your inhibitions, but it’s not just that. There’s something raw and undeniable about this moment, about him. All the bickering, all the glares and sharp words, it all feels like it’s been leading to this.
His hand moves to your waist, gripping tightly as if to ground himself. you find yourself pulling him closer, fingers tangling in his shirt as the kiss deepens. For once, you’re not fighting—at least, not with words.
The night blurs after that. The tension, the anger, the alcohol—it all swirls together, igniting something you’ve both been too stubborn to acknowledge.
You stare at the screen in front of you, your vitals smartwatch blinking its persistent question:
What date do you think you became pregnant?
Your fingers hover over the calendar, hesitating as the memories rush back. That night, so long ago but still so vivid. The way his lips pressed against mine, the heat of his hands against your skin, the way you gave in to something you both swore you hated.
You press the date, and the screen logs it with an impersonal beep. The action feels like a release, but it only brings more questions, more weight.
Do you wish to notify the captain?
You let out a hollow laugh, though there's nothing remotely funny about it. Notify the captain. As if that wouldn’t open a floodgate of complications. How could you possibly tell him that one moment of weakness has brought you to this point?
Your hand hovers over the screen, your mind racing with indecision. But before you can decide, the sound of approaching footsteps pulls you from your thoughts. Your heart lurches, and you quickly shove the device into your pocket, forcing a calm expression as the door slides open.
There he is—Han Yun Jae. Cold, unapproachable, and as sharp as ever. His eyes meet yours, and you wonder, just for a fleeting moment, if he can see it in your face.
"Y/N," he says curtly. "We’re heading out for another exploration."
You nod, trying to suppress the flutter in your chest. "Of course."
He steps closer, his presence dominating the room. The tension from that night still hangs thick in the air, unspoken, unresolved. And though he doesn’t know it yet, you can’t shake the fear that everything is about to change.
“We need to leave soon,” he continues, his tone impassive, his eyes scanning the equipment scattered around the room. you envy his ability to keep his composure, his ability to seem unaffected. You feel like you are on the edge of breaking, but you can’t let him see it. Not now.
"Right," you say, trying to steady my voice. "I’ll be ready in a minute."
You grab your gear, moving quickly, gathering the essentials for today’s exploration. We’re on a breathable planet, so you don’t need much—just the basics: a scanner, sample containers, a few tools for analysis. It should be a straightforward mission. But everything feels off today.
As you adjust your pack, you feel the familiar nausea begin to churn in your stomach again. It’s not as intense as it could be, but it’s enough to make your head spin. A wave of dizziness threatens to knock you off balance, but you keep moving. you can’t afford to look weak.
We head out to begin the survey of the planet. The bright sun glints off the barren landscape, but you can barely focus on the view. Yun Jae leads the way, as always, with his confident stride and cold, calculating gaze.
You follow, but every step feels heavier today. My thoughts keep drifting back to the life growing inside you, the life that you still haven’t told him about. you won’t—not like this. Not when the tension between you is still so thick, so unresolved.
The exploration continues, though it’s more difficult than usual. You are exhausted—physically, mentally. Your body feels like it’s betraying you. you keep trying to hide it, but the pallor of your skin, the way your movements seem slower, doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Y/N, you’re okay?” Ha-neul, one of the engineers, asks as she glances at you.
You offer another tight smile, masking the fatigue and nausea swirling inside you. “I’m fine.”
But Ha-neul doesn’t buy it. She knows you too well.
We continue, and as you near the edge of a cliff to take a sample from a distant ridge, Yun Jae pauses and turns to you, his eyes glinting with that familiar authoritative gleam.
“We need to get a sample from that ridge,” he says, pointing to the jagged rocky formation.
“Yeah, on it,” you reply, starting to walk toward it. But before you take more than a few steps, you catch him watching you—his gaze lingering on your face, his expression tight with what looks like worry.
He holds up a hand, stopping you in your tracks. “Wait. You stay here and keep an eye on the equipment.”
You clench your teeth, holding back the sharp retort that rises to your lips. “Why do you always assume I can’t handle it?”
He doesn’t look at you but responds in that cold, condescending tone that always sends a rush of heat to your face.
“Because you still act like a kid who doesn’t know how to do anything. You get distracted, and I can’t afford to babysit you.” that was just an excuse covering the fact that he was worry at you state just by one look at your face but you didn’t need to know that.
Your heart lurches, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.
“I’m not a kid!” you snapped, my voice sharper and louder than you intended. The words hung in the air, heavy with frustration and unspoken meaning. “I’m twenty-eight, for God’s sake! Stop treating me like some helpless child.”
You turned to face him fully, your glare unwavering as you continued. “I get that being ancient must make you think everyone younger than you need to be babysat, but guess what? I’m capable, and I’ve been handling things on my own for a long time now.”
You noticed the silence that followed your outburst, the kind that was too heavy to ignore. Slowly, your eyes drifted past Han Yun Jae to the rest of the crew standing a few feet away. Their faces were pressed with a mix of concern and curiosity, clearly having heard every word.
Some of them exchanged awkward glances, unsure whether to intervene or pretend they hadn’t just witnessed you snap. Others avoided eye contact entirely, their focus suddenly absorbed by the dirt beneath their boots.
Heat rushed to your face as you realized the spectacle you’d just created. Your hands clenched at your sides, embarrassment and anger bubbling together. you turned away from Yun Jae and the crew, your voice quieter but no less firm as you muttered, “This conversation is over.”
Without another word, you walked off, ignoring the weight of their stares as you walked to get the samples.
Your footsteps crunch over the rocky terrain as you make your way toward the ridge, your breath shallow and uneven. you feel the weight of their eyes on your back—on both Yun Jae and you. But you can’t care anymore.
You are not a kid. You are not the same person you was when you first met him, when you used to argue over everything like it was your only language. He might still see you as that naive child, but you are not. you won’t let him define you anymore.
The harsh wind stings your skin as you reach the base of the ridge, your hands shaking as you adjust the sample container. you glance over your shoulder briefly, your mind still tangled with everything that’s happened. And, of course, Yun Jae is standing there, watching you with that cold, calculating gaze, his posture rigid as if waiting for you to make a mistake.
You can’t stand it.
You remember the first time you met him. you were just a kid—barely out of childhood, if I’m being honest—and he was always there. Always around because of your father. Han Yun Jae wasn’t just your father’s protégé; he was almost like a shadow. Quiet, intense, and seemingly perfect in everything he did.
Your father had always insisted that Yun Jae was a brilliant mind, someone who could shape the future of your father’s work, someone who deserved the respect of everyone around him. But you never saw him that way.
To you, he was just your father’s trainee who treated you like you were beneath him. He never smiled, never showed anything that resembled to warmth, and he always treated you like an inconvenience. A distraction.
You hated that. you hated the way he looked at you with cold indifference, as if you were just a little girl who didn’t understand the world around you. He’d always brush you off, belittle your attempts to prove yourself. At first, it was almost funny—his condescension was so obvious—but as you got older, it started to gnaw at you. you wanted to prove him wrong. you wanted to show him that you were more than just a child, that you could handle things on your own.
But every time you tried, he pushed you further away. His icy demeanor only seemed to grow colder, and his words became sharper.
“Don’t be so naive, Y/N,” he’d say, his voice always so cold and clipped. “You’ll never be able to understand. Stay out of it.”
And you listened to him. you listened because he was older, because he had always been the smart one, the disciplined one. you were just the spoiled little girl of his mentor.
But something changed after you hit your late teens. The more you pushed back, the more things began to shift. What started as petty bickering turned into real animosity. The tension between you grew, and your arguments became sharper, more cutting. There was no longer any pretense of camaraderie between us. you hated him. And somewhere, buried deep within his cold, emotionless exterior, you began to feel like he hated you too.
It wasn’t just the typical friction of youth anymore. It became personal. It was as if he saw you as nothing more than an obstacle—a nuisance to be dealt with, nothing more.
And as you continue collecting the sample, you can feel the weight of his presence behind you, but it doesn’t feel quite as suffocating as before.
A few days later, after hours spent scanning and collecting samples, your head was spinning, and your body felt like it was on the verge of shutting down. Exhaustion and nausea clawed at you, and you wasn’t sure how much longer you could keep pretending you were fine. Because you weren't.
You silently prayed you could hold on until you reached the base. Pressing a hand to your stomach, you tried to steady the roiling turmoil inside you.
“You look like you’re about to collapse,” Ha-neul said, her voice cutting through the haze clouding your thoughts. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked as you finally stepped through the base doors.
You waved her off, forcing a smile. “I’m fine, just a little tired. I’ll rest soon.”
You made your way to your quarters, your stomach churning with every step. As soon as you were inside, you rushed to the small bathroom. The door clicked shut behind you, and you barely had time to close your eyes before the nausea hit full force.
You kneeled in front of the toilet, your body jerking with each wave of sickness. Ypur stomach emptied itself, the bitter taste of bile rising in your throat. you couldn't stop it. It felt like it went on forever.
After what felt like an eternity, you finally pulled yourself together enough to sit back on your heels, your mouth dry and your face pale. you took a few shallow breaths, trying to steady myself. Your mind was spinning—sick, tired, and overwhelmed by the weight of everything that had happened, everything that was happening.
You stood, hands shaking, and rinsed your mouth with water, trying to rid yourself of the horrible taste. Reaching for your toothbrush and toothpaste, you began brushing your teeth automatically, trying to focus on something, anything, other than the racing thoughts in your head.
It was then that you saw him.
He was standing in the doorway behind you, his arms crossed, watching you through the mirror. you froze for a split second, your breath catching in your throat. you hadn’t heard him approach, hadn’t noticed him at all. He looked so out of place, his cold stare boring into you even as you tried to keep your composure.
But you couldn’t. Your heart was pounding. Still, you refused to look at him directly. you kept your eyes on the mirror, focusing on the task at hand—brushing your teeth, pretending he wasn’t there.
You felt the pressure of his gaze, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. you just… kept brushing, as if you could make everything go away.
Just as you was about to spit and rinse your mouth, his voice broke the silence.
“Are you pregnant?”
His words hit like a thunderclap, shocking you into stillness. you didn’t respond, not immediately. Your hand froze mid-rinse, and you had to fight to steady myself, your thoughts racing.
He was right. Something was off. But you couldn’t let him know that.
You finished rinsing, washing your mouth quickly as you replaced the toothpaste and toothbrush.
The silence between you thickened. He was still standing there, his posture unchanged, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze never wavered, and you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your neck.
You turned slowly to face him, forcing a neutral expression, but inside, you were panicking. He was so close now. Too close. Your chest tightened with the sudden proximity.
“What makes you think that?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual, even though your heart was hammering in your chest.
His eyes flickered with a slight, cold amusement. “You’ve been acting strange lately. More tired, more nauseous. The way you keep your distance when food comes around… You’ve been avoiding things, avoiding people. And the way you pale when you're on your feet too long—it all points in one direction."
you laughed—too sharply, too quickly. “I’m just tired. You know, long missions and all that.”
He raised an eyebrow, his expression unwavering. “And the fact that your periods haven’t come for 3 months? That’s just… coincidence?”
You froze, your breath catching in your throat. you couldn’t hide the shock in your eyes fast enough. “How do you know that?” you said, your voice betraying you with a slight quiver.
Yun Jae’s gaze hardened, but he didn’t break eye contact. “I have my ways.”
You backed away slightly, your heart racing, your mouth suddenly dry. "That's creepy," you muttered, trying to brush past him. you just needed to get out of there, away from his scrutiny.
But before you could even turn the door handle, his voice stopped you in your tracks. “You didn’t respond.” you look at him but you turned back to the door, your hand on the handle, but before you could open it fully, he stepped forward, blocking your way. you didn’t look up at him, but his presence was suffocating.
He leaned in, his voice lower now, the sharp edge gone. “You didn’t answer me.” he repeated in an irritated tone.
You didn’t have the strength to fight him anymore. Your body was exhausted, your mind overwhelmed, and you just wanted to escape—escape this situation, escape him, escape the uncertainty swirling inside you.
You met his eyes, standing tall despite the shakiness you felt inside. “You already know the answer.”the words coming out colder than you intended.
Yun Jae’s gaze softened just a fraction, but the icy wall was still there, still firmly in place. He didn’t respond, but his silence spoke volumes.
And with that, you pushed past him, opening the door and stepping out into the hallway, the cool metal of the ship offering no comfort anymore. you couldn’t let him get to you. Not now. Not when everything felt like it was spiraling out of control.
But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.
Days turned into weeks, and you avoided Yun Jae like the plague. you couldn’t face him—not after that conversation. Every meal became a calculated maneuver to dodge him. you either skipped eating entirely, braving the gnawing hunger, or grabbed your plate and retreated to your room or the lab. The smells of food only worsened the nausea, and you didn’t want him—or anyone else—noticing your discomfort.
But no matter how much you tried to act like nothing was wrong, you could feel the truth pressing against you, literally. Your body was changing. Your bump was small but undeniable now, a subtle curve that you could no longer ignore. you started wearing baggier clothes, anything to keep it hidden. Yet you knew this wasn’t a problem you could cover up forever.
Late at night, when you are alone in your quarters, the weight of it all would crush you. You would sit on the edge of your bed, your hands trembling as they rested on your growing belly. A part of you wanted to reject it, deny what was happening. But the fluttering beneath your fingers was impossible to ignore. A tiny life was growing inside you, and it terrified you.
You found yourself crying more often than you cared to admit. Silent, muffled sobs into your pillow as you thought about everything you would imagined for your first child. You'd always pictured being married, having a partner by your side, someone you could lean on when things got tough. you thought about warm nurseries, family gatherings, and laughter. Not this—being stranded on a distant planet, surrounded by cold metal walls, with the father of your child barely able to tolerate you.
The thought of Yun Jae made the tears come harder. you didn’t want to admit it, but a part of you had always cared about his opinion, even when you claimed to hate him. And now, the idea of raising this child alone, of carrying this weight by myself, was unbearable
The days blurred together, and you kept your distance from Yun Jae. you didn’t start conversations—not with him. When he spoke to you, it was only about the mission.
When it came to meals, you continued your routine of avoidance. The smells in the mess hall used to turn your stomach, but now that you were in your second trimester, your nausea had finally eased. you started enjoying food again—more than you ever had before. you were eating everything in sight. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to sit with the crew. You’d grab your plate and retreat to your room or the lab. It was better than facing Yun Jae’s gaze, which had changed in ways you couldn’t understand.
You’d catch him looking at you, his dark eyes fixed on you from across the room. It wasn’t the usual cold glare. There was something else there—concern, maybe. Worry? you weren't sure. All you knew was that it made your skin crawl. It made you feel exposed, like he could see everything you were trying so hard to hide.
The lab was eerily quiet after everyone left. you worked in silence, the hum of machinery and the occasional beep from the scanner your only companions. It was better this way—being alone. you could focus on your work without the weight of their stares or the hushed conversations that sometimes carried your name when they thought you weren't listening.
Before leaving, Ha-neul had paused by your workstation, her gaze lingering with concern.
“Y/N, do you want me to bring you a plate?” she asked, her voice gentle but persistent.
“I’m not hungry,” you replied curtly, not looking up from my work.
She hesitated but eventually nodded, joining the others as they filed out of the lab. The door hissed shut behind them, and you sighed, grateful for the solitude.
Minutes passed, maybe longer. you were deep in analysis, your hands deftly adjusting the settings on the equipment, when the door opened again. you ignored it, assuming someone had forgotten something.
It wasn’t until a plate slid onto the desk beside you that you stopped.
You blinked at it, the steam from the food curling up in delicate tendrils. Slowly, you lifted your head, your eyes meeting Yun Jae’s. He stood there, his expression unreadable, though there was a flicker of worry in his usually sharp features. In his other hand, he held a second plate—his own, you assumed.
“Eat,” he said simply, his tone firm but not unkind.
“I’m not hungry,” you shot back, your voice colder than you intended. You turned your attention back to your work, determined to ignore him.
But then, as if on cue, your stomach betrayed you with a loud, unmistakable growl.
You froze, heat creeping up your neck.
When you glanced back at him, he was smirking faintly, the corner of his mouth tugged up in amusement. Without a word, he sat down beside you, placing his own plate on the desk and beginning to eat, his movements unhurried.
“Eat,” he repeated, pushing your plate closer to you.
You scowled, reluctant but too hungry to argue with your body. Picking up a fork, you took a small bite, chewing slowly as you tried to focus back on your work.
“What are you doing here?” you asked after a moment, your tone flat as you glanced at him.
“I want to talk,” he replied, his focus seemingly on his food.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” you said, taking another small bite, though your eyes never left the screen in front of you.
He didn’t respond immediately, and for a while, the only sound between you was the scrape of utensils against plates. But you could feel his gaze on you, studying you like he was trying to piece together a puzzle.
“Why are you avoiding me?” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less direct.
You didn’t answer, refusing to look at him.
“Why do you keep acting like this?” he pressed, his tone teetering between frustration and concern.
“I’m not acting like anything,” you snapped, dropping your fork onto the plate with a clatter. “I’m working, Yun Jae. If you’re done eating, you can leave.”
He exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. For a moment, you thought he might argue, but instead, he reached out and pushed his plate closer to yours, his movements slow and deliberate.
“Eat,” he said again, his voice quieter now, almost gentle, as if he knew how close you were to snapping but didn’t want to push you further.
Then, without another word, he stood and left the lab, the door hissing shut behind him. The sound lingered in the air, leaving an emptiness you couldn’t shake.
You stared at the two plates of food in front of you, your appetite wavering despite the persistent gnawing in your stomach. His plate sat there, untouched except for the few bites he’d taken, a silent gesture that felt heavier than it should have.
For a moment, you felt the weight of it all press down on me—the loneliness, the tension between you, the secret you were carrying that was slowly changing everything. My fingers tightened around the fork as you fought back the emotion rising in your chest.
The food blurred in front of you, and you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to breathe. you hated this—hated how he always seemed to know when to show up, hated the way he lingered in your thoughts even when you wanted to forget him. Most of all, you hated the way his quiet actions, like leaving his plate behind, managed to make you feel so unsteady.
Finally, you forced yourself to take another bite, chewing slowly as you tried to focus on the work in front of you. But no matter how much you tried to ignore it, the two plates beside each other felt like a conversation left unfinished, one that you weren't sure you were ready to have.
The kitchen was dimly lit, the soft hum of the ship's systems the only sound in the background. you shuffled quietly, rubbing your eyes and trying not to make too much noise. Hunger clawed at you, relentless and impossible to ignore. Sleep wasn’t going to come until you satisfied it.
After searching through the shelves, you finally found something that looked promising—a container of fruit, sealed tightly with a stubborn lid. you gripped it with both hands, bracing it against your body as you twisted, but it wouldn’t budge. Frustration built with each attempt, the hunger making your movements clumsier.
Unbeknownst to you, Yun Jae had been there the whole time, leaning casually against the counter with his hands in his pockets. He watched silently as you struggled, his cold, observant gaze fixed on you.
“Do you want some help?” his voice cut through the silence suddenly, calm and steady as always.
The sound startled you so badly that the container slipped from your hands, hitting the floor with a loud clatter. Your heart jumped, and you spun around to glare at him.
“God, Yun Jae!” you hissed, clutching your chest as if that could steady your racing heart.
He didn’t flinch, didn’t apologize for startling you. He just stood there, his expression unreadable as his eyes shifted briefly to the container on the floor.
You stayed quiet, refusing to look at him directly. Instead, you bent down, picking up the container with shaky hands. Your face burned with embarrassment, but you ignored it, turning your back to him and trying once again to open the lid.
It was no use. No matter how hard you tried, the lid wouldn’t move. And then, without realizing it, you felt the tears start to fall.
At first, you didn’t notice them, too focused on your stubborn attempts to twist the lid. But soon, the drops blurred your vision, slipping down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away. Your hands trembled as you tried to compose yourself, but the harder you fought, the more the tears came.
It wasn’t the lid. It wasn’t even the hunger. It was everything. The pregnancy, the isolation, the weight of being stranded on this alien planet. The fact that you were carrying this alone, with no one to lean on.
Before you could spiral further, you felt strong arms wrap around you from behind, firm yet gentle.
You froze, your breath hitching as Yun Jae carefully took the container from your hands and placed it on the counter nearby. Then, without a word, he pulled you closer, his arms circling you in a quiet but steady embrace.
The warmth of his presence broke something in you. you let out a shuddering sob, your body trembling as the floodgates opened completely.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and calm as his hand came up to gently rub your arm. “Let it out.”
His tone wasn’t soft or warm—he wasn’t the type—but there was something in his voice, a quiet steadiness, that made you feel like you didn’t have to hold everything together for once.
He turned you around slowly, guiding you until your forehead was pressed against his chest. His hand slid to the small of your back, holding you close, while his other hand rested lightly on the back of your head, his fingers brushing through your hair.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said, his words deliberate, almost hesitant.
You didn’t respond, couldn’t. you just stayed there, your face buried in his chest as the tears came harder.
He held you through it all, his hand moving gently along your back in a soothing rhythm. “Calm down,” he said quietly. “You’re okay. It’s going to be okay.”
Minutes passed like this—his steady presence anchoring you as you slowly began to calm down. The tears slowed, your breathing evened out. you realized, almost absently, that your arms had wrapped around his torso, holding onto him without even thinking about it.
When you finally pulled away, he let you go, though his hands lingered for a moment as if making sure you were steady. His eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw something different in them—something softer, more vulnerable.
“You’ve been holding this in for too long,” he said, his tone still calm but edged with something you couldn’t quite place.
You wiped at your face, refusing to meet his gaze. “I don’t need your pity,” you muttered under your breath.
“Gosh, Y/N, this isn’t pity,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “Why do you always have to be in denial?”
Silence stretched between you before he broke it.
“For twenty years, I’ve kept my distance,” he began, his voice quieter now. “Your father—he was the closest thing I had to a hero. He taught me everything, and when you joined the organization, I told myself I had to protect you. For him.”
You glanced up at him, startled by the admission. He looked away briefly, as if uncomfortable with saying it aloud.
“But I didn’t know how,” he continued, his voice steady again. “You were reckless, stubborn—always throwing yourself into danger without thinking.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off.
“And I—” He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t know how to handle it. Or you. You weren’t just some kid anymore. Not to me.”
My breath caught, but you stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.
“You were twenty when I started noticing,” he said, his tone cool but deliberate. “But you were too young, and I couldn’t—” He shook his head. “I couldn’t let myself feel that way. So I kept my distance. I thought it was better that way.”
Confused by his words, you frowned. “Wait, I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?”
He hesitated for a moment, looking away as if gathering his courage. When his eyes finally met yours again, they were filled with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I have feelings for you, Y/N,” he said, his voice low but steady.
You froze, completely shocked by the confession. He continued, his words tumbling out as if they’d been bottled up for too long. “I started falling for you when you joined the organization. At first, it felt wrong—I thought I shouldn’t feel that way. So I tried to keep my distance, to be cold with you. You’re my mentor’s daughter, and you’re so much younger than me. I mean—I'm ancient, as you call me.” He chuckled softly, and despite yourself, you found the corners of your mouth twitching upward.
“And it’s true,” he added, his tone gentler now. “At times, I thought of you like a kid. I felt like I owed your father everything, and protecting you was my way of honoring him.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before he continued. “But you’re not a kid anymore.” His gaze held mine, steady and unflinching. “You’re a woman. And now…” His eyes flickered briefly to your stomach, his expression softening. “Now, you’re carrying a life.”
Before you could respond, he turned, grabbed the container from the counter, and opened it effortlessly. He handed it back to you without a word, his expression unreadable.
You took it, your back turning to him as you started eating quietly, savoring the fruit. But then, you felt his arms wrap around you again, this time from behind.
His hand moved to rest gently on your belly, his fingers brushing against the curve. “It’s gotten big,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “How the hell have you been hiding this?”
You laughed softly despite myself, shaking your head. “Baggy clothes.”
His hand moved in slow, soothing circles, and for the first time, you let yourself relax into his touch. You stayed like that for a while, the silence between you, comfortable and unspoken. Once you were done eating, and since neither of you could sleep, you wandered to the balcony.
You sat there until sunrise, talking about everything—the baby, potential names, your relationship.
For the first time, you didn’t feel like he was treating you like a kid.
#han yun jae x reader#han yun jae#the silence sea#gong yoo x reader#gong yoo#the salesman#squid game salesman#the recruiter
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