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electronalytics · 2 years ago

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Solar PV and Wind Energy Market Overview, Demand, Key Players and Regional Outlook Study 2017 – 2032

Solar PV and Wind Energy Market Overview:

The solar PV (photovoltaic) and wind energy markets are crucial segments of the renewable energy industry. Solar PV harnesses sunlight to generate electricity, while wind energy utilizes wind power to produce electricity. Here is an overview of the solar PV and wind energy markets:

Types of Solar PV Systems:

• Grid-connected Solar PV Systems: These systems are connected to the electrical grid and supply electricity to both residential and commercial consumers.

• Off-grid Solar PV Systems: These systems are not connected to the grid and are typically used in remote areas or for specific applications such as powering telecommunications equipment or irrigation systems.

• Building Integrated Photovoltaics (BIPV): BIPV systems are integrated into building materials such as windows, roofs, or facades, allowing them to generate electricity while serving as functional building elements.

Types of Wind Energy Systems:

• Onshore Wind Energy Systems: Onshore wind turbines are installed on land, typically in areas with consistent wind resources.

• Offshore Wind Energy Systems: Offshore wind farms are located in bodies of water, such as oceans or large lakes, and utilize wind turbines installed on platforms or foundations anchored to the seabed.

Key Growth Factors and Trends:

1. Renewable Energy Transition: Increasing concerns about climate change and the need to reduce greenhouse gas emissions have accelerated the adoption of solar PV and wind energy as viable alternatives to fossil fuel-based power generation.

2. Declining Costs: The cost of solar PV and wind energy systems has significantly decreased over the years, making them more competitive compared to conventional energy sources.

3. Supportive Policies and Incentives: Government policies, subsidies, and incentives promoting renewable energy, such as feed-in tariffs and tax credits, have played a crucial role in driving the growth of solar PV and wind energy markets.

4. Technological Advancements: Continuous advancements in solar PV and wind turbine technologies, including increased efficiency and improved energy storage solutions, have further contributed to market growth.

5. Market Expansion: Emerging economies, particularly in Asia-Pacific and Latin America, are witnessing a rapid increase in solar PV and wind energy installations, driven by growing energy demand and favourable government initiatives.

Key Points for Development and Forecasts:

1. Capacity Expansion: The solar PV and wind energy markets are expected to experience significant capacity additions, driven by increasing investments in renewable energy projects globally.

2. Energy Storage Integration: The integration of energy storage solutions, such as batteries, with solar PV and wind energy systems is expected to gain traction, enabling better management of intermittent power generation and enhancing grid stability.

3. Digitalization and Smart Grid Integration: The adoption of digital technologies and smart grid solutions will enable efficient monitoring, control, and integration of solar PV and wind energy systems into the overall electricity grid.

4. International Collaborations: Cross-border collaborations and joint ventures between companies and governments are expected to foster technology transfer and drive market growth in different regions.

5. Electrification and Decentralization: The electrification of transportation and the increasing focus on decentralized energy generation are expected to create new opportunities for solar PV and wind energy markets.

Analytical Overview of Solar PV and Wind Energy Market:

The solar PV and wind energy markets play a crucial role in the global transition towards renewable energy sources. Here is an analytical overview of the solar PV and wind energy markets:

Market Dynamics:

1. Growing Renewable Energy Adoption:

• Increasing concerns about climate change and the need to reduce greenhouse gas emissions drive the adoption of solar PV and wind energy as clean and sustainable alternatives to fossil fuels.

• Government policies and regulations promoting renewable energy, such as renewable portfolio standards and carbon pricing, further stimulate market growth.

2. Declining Costs and Technological Advancements:

• Both solar PV and wind energy have witnessed significant cost reductions over the years, making them more economically competitive with conventional energy sources.

• Technological advancements in solar PV modules, wind turbine design, and energy storage solutions have increased efficiency and performance, enhancing the attractiveness of these renewable energy options.

3. Supportive Government Incentives:

• Various government incentives, such as feed-in tariffs, tax credits, and grants, have encouraged investments in solar PV and wind energy projects.

• Net metering policies, which allow consumers to sell excess electricity generated by their solar PV systems back to the grid, have also contributed to market growth.

4. Increasing Energy Demand and Electrification:

• Rising global energy demand, driven by population growth and economic development, creates opportunities for solar PV and wind energy to meet the increasing electricity needs.

• Electrification trends, including the shift towards electric vehicles and the integration of renewable energy in heating and cooling systems, further drive market growth.

We recommend referring our Stringent datalytics firm, industry publications, and websites that specialize in providing market reports. These sources often offer comprehensive analysis, market trends, growth forecasts, competitive landscape, and other valuable insights into this market.

By visiting our website or contacting us directly, you can explore the availability of specific reports related to this market. These reports often require a purchase or subscription, but we provide comprehensive and in-depth information that can be valuable for businesses, investors, and individuals interested in this market.

“Remember to look for recent reports to ensure you have the most current and relevant information.”

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Market Segmentations:

Global Solar PV and Wind Energy Market: By Company

• RWE Group

• Enel Spa

• Xcel Energy Inc.

• ACCIONA

• Iberdrola

• EDF

• Vattenfall AB

• Tokyo Electric Power

• Tata Power

• Invenergy

• Innergex

Global Solar PV and Wind Energy Market: By Type

• Solar PV

• Wind Energy

Global Solar PV and Wind Energy Market: By Application

• Residential

• Commercial

• Industrial

Global Solar PV and Wind Energy Market: Regional Analysis

The Asia-Pacific region has been the largest market for solar PV and wind energy, with China as the biggest contributor to this growth. Other major countries in the region, such as India and Japan, have also been investing heavily in renewable energy, with supportive government policies and increasing demand for electricity. The region is expected to continue its dominance in the global market, driven by technological advancements, declining costs, and the need for sustainable energy sources.

Europe has been a key player in the global renewable energy market, with countries such as Germany, Spain, and Denmark leading the way. The region has set ambitious targets to reduce carbon emissions and increase the share of renewable energy in its energy mix. The solar PV and wind energy markets in Europe are expected to grow significantly, driven by favorable government policies and increasing public awareness of the need for sustainable energy.

The United States has been the largest market for wind energy in North America, with significant investments in the sector in recent years. The country has also seen a surge in solar PV installations, driven by declining costs and supportive policies at the state and federal levels. Canada has also been investing in renewable energy, with a growing market for wind energy.

Latin America has seen significant growth in the solar PV and wind energy markets in recent years, driven by supportive policies, declining costs, and increasing demand for electricity. Countries such as Brazil, Chile, and Mexico have been leading the way in the region, with ambitious targets to increase the share of renewable energy in their energy mix.

The Middle East and Africa region has been relatively slower in adopting solar PV and wind energy, due to the abundance of fossil fuel resources. However, the region has significant potential for renewable energy, and countries such as Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates have been investing heavily in the sector. The region is expected to see significant growth in the coming years, driven by declining costs and the need to diversify energy sources.

Visit Report Page for More Details: https://stringentdatalytics.com/reports/solar-pv-and-wind-energy-market/6733/

Reasons to Purchase Solar PV and Wind Energy Market Report:

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• To identify important participants and rivals: This research studies can assist companies in identifying key participants and rivals in their sector, along with their market share, business plans, and strengths and weaknesses.

• To comprehend consumer behaviour: these research studies can offer insightful information about customer behaviour, including preferences, spending patterns, and demographics.

• To assess market opportunities: These research studies can aid companies in assessing market chances, such as prospective new goods or services, fresh markets, and new trends.

• To make well-informed business decisions: These research reports give companies data-driven insights that they may use to plan their strategy, develop new products, and devise marketing and advertising plans.

In general, market research studies offer companies and organisations useful data that can aid in making decisions and maintaining competitiveness in their industry. They can offer a strong basis for decision-making, strategy formulation, and company planning.

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nasa · 10 months ago

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This photo contains both flight (flat in the foreground) and qualification assembly (upright in the background) versions of the Solar Array Sun Shield for NASA’s Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope. These panels will both shade the mission’s instruments and power the observatory.

Double Vision: Why Do Spacecraft Have Twin Parts?

Seeing double? You’re looking at our Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope’s Solar Array Sun Shield laying flat in pieces in the foreground, and its test version connected and standing upright in the back. The Sun shield will do exactly what it sounds like –– shade the observatory –– and also collect sunlight for energy to power Roman.

These solar panels are twins, just like several of Roman’s other major components. Only one set will actually fly in space as part of the Roman spacecraft…so why do we need two?

Sometimes engineers do major tests to simulate launch and space conditions on a spare. That way, they don’t risk damaging the one that will go on the observatory. It also saves time because the team can do all the testing on the spare while building up the flight version. In the Sun shield’s case, that means fitting the flight version with solar cells and eventually getting the panels integrated onto the spacecraft.

Our Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope's primary structure (also called the spacecraft bus) moves into the big clean room at our Goddard Space Flight Center (top). While engineers integrate other components onto the spacecraft bus in the clean room, the engineering test unit (also called the structural verification unit) undergoes testing in the centrifuge at Goddard. The centrifuge spins space hardware to ensure it will hold up against the forces of launch.

Engineers at our Goddard Space Flight Center recently tested the Solar Array Sun Shield qualification assembly in a thermal vacuum chamber, which simulates the hot and cold temperatures and low-pressure environment that the panels will experience in space. And since the panels will be stowed for launch, the team practiced deploying them in space-like conditions. They passed all the tests with flying colors!

The qualification panels will soon pass the testing baton to the flight version. After the flight Solar Array Sun Shield is installed on the Roman spacecraft, the whole spacecraft will go through lots of testing to ensure it will hold up during launch and perform as expected in space.

For more information about the Roman Space Telescope, visit: www.nasa.gov/roman. You can also virtually tour an interactive version of the telescope here.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

#NASA #astronomy #telescope #Roman Space Telescope #technology #space #science #tech #twins #engineering #STEM

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formulakracing · 5 months ago

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“well that’s too bad” — k.r.

pairing -> kimi räikkönen x dcc!reader

word count -> {typed this one on my phone}

warnings -> banter, lots of flirting, some sexual innuendos, kimi being protective, the grid being a bunch of goofballs/down bad, some cursing, light pda

a/n -> this is a request based off of this ask! anon, i love you and thank you for sending in an ask so that i could write about one of my favorite drivers (can we also talk about long hair kimi like…) i hope y’all enjoy!

"who is that?"

a blonde peers around the garage, cocking his head as the figure strolls toward the row of paddocks. licking his lips, he folds his arms across his chest.

"i don't know, but whoever she is, she's gorgeous. absolutely stunning."

the object of sebastian vettel’s desire brings a phone to her ear, her plush lips parting, brow furrowing. whatever she was doing, she was deeply invested, as she stopped dead in her tracks to make the call.

the fellow drivers gather around the blonde, almost gawking. there was no doubt this woman was absolutely ethereal, the gentle rays of the morning sun accentuating her features. a pair of low rise jeans hung from her hips, a white long sleeve clinging to her torso. a luxurious purse hung from her shoulder, the bag accessorized with all sorts of trinkets and a bow.

the most striking aspect of her outfit was the pair of cowboy boots on her feet, the black leather worn from years of wear.

an interesting choice, especially in monaco, but it suited her.

she was regal, carrying herself with an aura that exuded dominance and grace. and to sebastian’s delight, she started to make her way in the direction of the red bull garage.

was she single? there sure wasn’t a ring on that left hand. but she could have opted to leave it at home, where it was protected from the public eye.

it was a gamble really.

and sebastian was more than willing to take his chances.

"do you think i could get her number?"

"you? please. you wouldn't stand a chance."

"come on nico," lewis hamilton, british driver for mercedes scoffs, rolling his eyes, "and you think you could?"

“well, i guess we could ask her if she’s ever been to paris—“

"you guys really know how to make me chuckle," another voice cuts in, his spanish accent seeping into every word, "a woman of that caliber? she probably wouldn't even look in your direction—"

"hi boys!" a chirp rings out through the red bull garage, "i'm looking for my husband. i tried calling his cell but i couldn't reach him. do y’all know where he is?"

her voice was sickeningly sweet, thick with the twang of an accent.

not just any ordinary accent.

an american accent, a drawl that sebastian only heard from one region of that country.

the south.

clearing your throat, you survey the array of men milling about in the garage. you recognize them all in an instant, as your husband had dotingly shown you photos over the years. before you stood fernando alonso, sebastian vettel, lewis hamilton, nico rosberg, and daniel ricciardo. an elite group of drivers, but they did not compare to the man you were searching for.

it wasn't even close.

you were looking for a finnish man, fair in complexion with fluffy, golden locks of hair. a hue that reminded you of sunlight pouring through the leaves of a forest. he was shorter in stature, but muscular, with piercing, icy blue eyes.

well, piercing to some, but to you, they were beautiful, brimmed with nothing but adoration and joy. often, you would gush to him about how his eyes were like the summer sky. he detested this, grumbling how they weren’t that special, but you could always make out a boyish grin, his dimples making an appearance.

taking a step back, sebastian studies you, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. as you give your name to nico, a bell rings in his head. he couldn’t quite place a finger on it, but it sounded familiar.

almost like he had heard it before. mentioned a few times, actually.

“who’s your husband?” fernando puckers his lips, placing his hands on his hips, “is he an engineer? a mechanic? part of the media?”

“he’s a driver.”

“a driver?” lewis’ eyes widen, “are you sure? we would remember one of our own bringing a woman like you around the—“

“will you all stop pestering my wife?”

a rumble from behind you earns a flinch from the drivers. swiveling on your heel, you feel your mouth curl into a dazzling grin.

“sugar! i’ve been looking all over for you! this place is a maze.”

sebastian can’t help but feel his mouth fall open as kimi räikkönen scoops you up into his embrace, squeezing you tightly against his chest. giggles erupt, bouncing off the walls as he peppers your face with kisses, a giddy squeal rising in your throat as he murmurs sweet nothings into your ear.

shaking his head, lewis almost can’t believe what he’s seeing, “you have got to be shitting me.”

“you’re telling me!” nico mutters, glaring at sebastian, he arches a brow, “is this the woman he’s been rambling about for months on end?”

“she is,” daniel clears his throat, finally finding his voice, “you guys didn’t put that together the second she started to speak? you can tell that woman has lived in texas all of her life. she’s wearing cowboy boots for fuck’s sake. you guys really amaze me sometimes.”

“well sorry we’re not all detectives like you!” fernando pouts, throwing his hands in the air, “we were all under the impression that—“

“the impression that i was just some helpless little bunny makin’ her way through?”

your snarky words cut through, sending a ripple of shock throughout the boys. their heads turn, pairs of eyes falling on you.

clicking your tongue, you raise a hand, pointing at sebastian, “y’all know it’s rude to stare, right? i could feel you watching me from a mile away.”

kimi wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer, “why didn’t any of you let me know she was here?”

“they thought i was single,” you can’t help but feel a smirk begin to grow as the boys stutter, scrambling to find some sort of response that wouldn’t set kimi off any further.

“well that’s too bad,” finding your hand, kimi intertwines your fingers together, “because you’re my wife. you guys hear that? she’s mine. off. limits.”

“heard you loud and clear,�� fernando flashes the finnish driver a thumbs up, “my apologies, kimi.”

“don’t apologize to me,” kimi snorts, “apologize to her.”

as the boys hang their heads, you can’t help but feel a chuckle tumble out as they start speaking in unison, like some schoolboys being chastised.

“we’re sorry.”

“that’s better,” tugging on your hand, kimi motions his head in the direction of his own garage, “come on, my love. let’s go.”

peering over your shoulder, you shoot the group one last wink, scrunching your nose slightly. giving them all a wave, you blow a kiss.

“it was nice to meet y’all! but if you’ll excuse me, i would like to be with my husband. hopefully you’ll all fare better on the track than how you court women. bye now!”

and as you walk away, kimi brings your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the gentle skin.

“i love you.”

linking your elbow with his, you lay your head on his shoulder, your heart cozy with bliss.

“and i love you, ice man.”

and for the rest of the day, the ice man would bear a radiant smile.

a sort of grin the rest of the grid had never seen before.

and that was all thanks to his cheerleader.

his wonderful, talented, smoke show of a cheerleader.

the one who happened to be not just any cheerleader, but his wife as well.

and if anyone wanted you?

well, that was too damn bad.

#kimi räikkönen #kimi raikkonen #kimi räikkönen x reader #kimi raikkonen x reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 fanfiction

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amnhnyc · 1 month ago

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🚨Life at the Limits: Nature’s Superheroes is now open!

Over billions of years, living things have evolved from simple cells into an awe-inspiring array of life forms—a spectacle of colors, textures, behaviors, specialized parts, and exacting skills. Some species are familiar. But others are so amazing that they test the limits of our imagination.

Imagine holding your breath for up to two hours like the Southern elephant seal (Mirounga leonina), enduring temperatures above 302°F (150°C) and below -458˚F (-272°C) like the tardigrade (Macrobiotus sp.), or “cheating death” by transforming from a mature adult back to a younger stage like the immortal jellyfish (Turritopsis dohrnii).

Come explore the diverse—and sometimes jaw-dropping—strategies that animals and plants employ to find food, fend off predators, reproduce, and thrive in habitats many would find inhospitable.

Learn more about Life at the Limits here.

Photos: Alvaro Keding & Daniel Kim / © AMNH

#natural history #nature #nyc #upper west side #animal facts #science #did you know

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cheralith · 3 months ago

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cw ; fem!reader, polyamorous relationship, poly!ryusae au

do NOT get it twisted!

shidou may be a freak on the outside but once he's in a relationship, that man is shackled down to the whims of cupid himself. a true loverboy at heart, he is genuinely the most loving thing on the planet if your heart is his, and in poly!ryusae au, he's got more than enough to share between you and sae.

initially, he's drawn to you because you just seem so sweet enough to break and destroy, assuming you were nothing more than a mere obstacle for him to weave his way around to get to sae, but when sae brings you to his practice and to his games more often, shidou eventually starts to see why you and sae have held it strong for the past few years. you're supportive and kind, always tending to sae's needs even if he insists he doesn't need it. you carry yourself with this quiet pride in the halls, one that doesn't falter even at the slightest test from others.

in the relationship, he's nothing less of cuddly and affectionate, always greeting you with a tight hug and peppering kisses all over your face when you come home. "how was my angel's day?" he'd ask immediately after, his ear always at the ready if you had any workplace gossip. enjoys cooking with you in the evenings with music playing from the speaker, sometimes whisking you away from the kitchen if a particular song played to dance with you.

it takes you awhile to actually get used to shidou's louder, more colorful display of love, since you and sae spent all those years with quieter affection, relishing in the smaller moments you shared. by no means were you uncomfortable, but it did take you a bit to get used to shidou's dynamic in comparison to sae.

perhaps the biggest difference was how they planned dates. sae preferred more private moments, like dinner dates or spa nights, shidou enjoyed more adventurous activities. he'll take you axe-throwing one day, or perhaps would favor in an amusement park for another, or maybe opt for couples' painting night. he brought a thrill to your life that you never knew about and you cherished every grain of it.

loves loves lovesss words of affirmation and physical touch. adores showering you in an array of kisses at any given moment and insists on always having at least one piece of skinship between you and him. his library of petnames range from "sweetness" to "princess" to "lovebug", and you can't quite remember the last time he actually called you by your actual name (sae taunts you in saying maybe he doesn't remember it. you swat at him every time he provokes you with the idea).

practically begs you to give him a good luck kiss on his cheek before a big game, wanting to show off your lipstick's kiss mark to the rest of the world, but sae erases it before the cameras catch a glimpse of it, not wanting their publicist on their asses.

regardless, shidou loves and adores you and sae so much that even the mere thoughts of you and him strike his cells with excitement. he's yours, and he'll be sure to announce it to the whole world once you're ready.

#saw a mischaracterization of him saying he'd cheat and i wailed out noooo with my head in my hands #he's nothing less of a loyal puppy i swearrr #cw ; polyamory #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #shidou ryusei x reader #itoshi sae x reader #shidou x reader #sae x reader #✍︎ ; alice in writingland

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shitpostingsapphic · 4 months ago

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"I hate Caitlyn because of the system she represents. I'm so tired of people acting like we can'thate her for that."

Let's have a long, hard talk.

This argument IS made in direct comparison to the oppressive systems we see in real life, so let's first talk about how Caitlyn compares to real world oppressive systems, her faults and the ways she fails the people she serves, and then let's talk about how you're just fucking wrong about her and how you hate the wrong character.

Caitlyn is an enforcer. Stating the obvious. She is a member of a larger system she chose to be a part of, because she wanted to serve the people. She was ignorant of the system's corruption as we see throughout season 1. Her initial intentions with becoming an enforcer are because she wants to fight injustice, defy the stuff politics of Piltover that she was raised under, and have her own identity.

At the end of season 1, several things happen to Caitlyn. She is abducted naked from her home, held hostage for at minimum 24 hours, during which time an array of things could have happened to her but of which we know for certain left her TERRIFIED of the young girl with blue hair she was abducted by. She watches that same girl fire an explosive that kills her mother. Preceding this, she has been witness to the ways Silco has harmed the people of the undercity and how he had the enforcers in his pocket in order to do it. Ekko explicitly tells her this. He tells her how Silco has ruined lives and how the enforcers were the manpower that let it happen.

Caitlyn walks away from season 1 changed in many ways. She is brokenhearted and traumatized, but still holds a strong desire to protect the innocent people of both cities. Because of who she has been up to this point, her belief is that she can rectify the wrongs by using the power of her position to do good instead of aid corruption. Her asking Vi to become an enforcer to do as much is in bad taste, yes. Which she later apologizes for and takes ownership for. That doesn't remove the good intention behind it. And it doesn't negate that Vi can later see the logic behind it. Being able to take control of a bad situation and use that power to do good instead of abusing that power to do bad, is an incredibly shaky but important position to be in. And the whole point of Caitlyn's character is how she navigates that--can she use her position to do good? As per GOOD WRITING, she's not going to get it perfect until she learns and grows.

We can acknowledge the moral ambiguity of using the grey, how it does harm, while also acknowledging the WAY it was used and for what purpose was both smart, economical, and GOOD. Doing bad things for good reasons. That's what the use of the grey was.

I'm not going to get into the memorial much, but all I will say for that, is it's an excellent example of people twisting Caitlyn's words and underselling the pain she's going through. If you can't acknowledge the right Caitlyn has to be upset at the people who just violently disrupted a memorial for mourning the loss of loved ones, I don't think you care to have a conversation about the humane treatment of others. And using Caitlyn's anger and grief as a "see?? She hates Zaunites!!" is so fucking stupid I'm not going to entertain an argument for that.

Caitlyn's setback is her trauma, her ignorance, and her heartbreak. She still isn't a fully realized character throughout most of season 2. She's learning and growing and unfortunately that is at the expense of the people she lords over while enforcing martial law. But if we acknowledge that, we also have to acknowledge the ways she changed the system so that needless suffering and punishment didn't happen. Confronting Ambessa when violence is used unlawfully. Improving the prison food and banning the use of the most inhumane cells in Stillwater. Bare minimum? Yes. But still ways she showed that she saw the Zaunites as humans and not as flesh covered problems the way Salo does. Not as problems to get rid of the way Ambessa does.

If the reason for your ire is because Caitlyn is a figure in a corrupt system, then your hatred is misdirected. The point of Caitlyn is to show the ways the system needs to change, and how the people within it who want to do good can often be misguided, but that doesn't mean they aren't good people or that they can't do good within their position.

If you fundamentally disagree with that, there isn't much of an argument to be had, but I will say that your ire is still misdirected.

I never see you guys discuss Salo or Ambessa.

Salo represents true bigotry in the system. It's a position he maintains all the way up to when his mind is commandeered by Viktor and the hexcore. Salo is the type of person who functions on confirmation bias--he already has a prejudiced view of Zaunites, and will use any opportunity to say "see? Told you so! We should put them down." Compared directly to how Caitlyn talks about them, asks Vi to help fix the system, fights against the system going too far, actively makes adjustments to change the way the system treats Zaunites, the claims that Caitlyn is a bigot don't hold up.

Ambessa IS the system. She IS the oppressive force that indiscriminately will take and take and take and sees violence as a tool and not a consequence to be avoided at all costs the way Caitlyn does. And for some fucking reason, no one who criticizes Caitlyn gives any weight to Ambessa's actions, ever. They don't discuss the way she manufactures the attack on the memorial to manipulate public opinion on Zaunites, as well as manipulate Caitlyn. They don't discuss how she sets Caitlyn up to be pressured to take the position of Commander and uses her grief, promises her justice, in order to warm Caitlyn to her and keep her as an ally, a pawn she can use. They don't discuss how she sent Maddie to be a spy, to be in Caitlyn's bed and to be as intimately close to her as possible, to make sure Caitlyn still was behaving the way she needed in order to see her plan through.

When discussing the manipulative, exploitative, and violent nature of oppressive systems, Caitlyn has become the scapegoat, when it is people like Salo and Ambessa who deserve your blame and your ire.

You wonder why people don't take your complaints about Caitlyn seriously? That's why. Because the show gave you very bold examples of oppressive individuals in control of the systems you hate, and you ignore both of them for the sake of hating on a beloved lesbian character, who is beloved because she is flawed and good natured and whose journey we enjoy because it's all about learning what to do when you're within a system that pulls you at every direction to do evil, and you still find a way to do good.

Do some more think pieces on Salo and Ambessa. Then maybe we can have nuanced discussions on Caitlyn.

#arcane #caitlyn kiramman #arcane league of legends #caitlyn arcane #arcane discussion #arcane analysis #arcane ambessa #ambessa medarda

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xtruss · 1 month ago

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What Creatures Make These Rare Ocean Gemstones?

These Tiny Candy-Colored Animals Protect Coral Reefs. But They Need Protection Too.

— Photographs By Anders Hallan | By Hicks Wogan | May 7, 2025

This array of sea urchin skeletons reveals a diversity often hidden from view. The specimens in Hallan’s images—more than a thousand in total—are held at the Sea Urchin Science Centre and Gallery in Kurrajong, Australia.

Beneath sea urchins’ exterior spines, rounded skeletons called tests are jewels of color, texture, and symmetry. There are hundreds of urchin species, and they’re found in every ocean on Earth, from the intertidal zone to more than four miles below the surface. In 2018, Anders Hallan, a research associate at the Australian Museum in Sydney, began photographing urchin skeletons that had washed up on beaches or been collected by divers and those on fishing or research vessels. He created a composite image over the course of a week in 2024 using 76 individual photographs.

The project comes at a perilous moment for these creatures. Since 2022, sea urchins have been plagued by a scuticociliate, a single-celled pathogen that eats away at the animals’ soft tissue and makes their spines fall off. A mass die-off that started in the Caribbean that year has since spread east, likely through the Mediterranean, into the Red Sea and Indian Ocean. In some survey locations, researchers found thousands of dead urchins.

The animals’ survival is vital to the health of reefs, where they eat algae that can smother coral. It’s one of the many reasons Hallan is committed to capturing their beauty: “They are really quite ingeniously evolved.”

Stereocidaris Granularis Rubra

Coelopleurus Maculatus

Hallan often photographs sea urchins from above to reveal their radial symmetry. On the animal’s opposite side, its mouth contains five self-sharpening teeth for chewing foods like algae, kelp, and plankton, and for carving nooks into rocks where it can hide from predators.

Phyllacanthus Parvispinus

Parechinus Angulosus

Green Sea Urchins

Plococidaris Verticillata

Colobocentrotus Atratus

Goniocidaris Tubaria

#Sea Urchins #Deep Sea #Ocean Life #Marine Biodiversity #Wildlife Photography

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miirily · 2 days ago

Text

You’re assigned to monitor his neural patterns. You’re supposed to keep him stable. But he starts speaking to you through the interface. You’ve never met him in person. You shouldn’t even care. But somehow, he knows your name.

You sit in the cold, humming dark of the bunker, the only light coming from the array of monitors bathing your face in spectral blue. The underground smells like rust and old circuits, a recycled metallic tang that never leaves your lungs. You’ve been down here too long. You don't remember the last time you saw the sky, real or artificial.

Your hands hover over the interface, fingers twitching from too much caffeine and too little sleep. Gojo Satoru’s neural stream dances across the screen: a cascade of biofeedback, erratic synaptic patterns that don’t line up with the others. He’s different. You’ve known that since the first night you were assigned to him. They told you to stabilise his mind. To monitor. To never engage. But the data keeps changing. He dreams too vividly. Too intentionally. And he keeps trying to reach you.

Tonight, the stream flickers in an unfamiliar rhythm—short, sharp pulses, repeating. You think it’s a glitch at first. Then you recognise the cadence. Morse code.

Y-O-U-R N-A-M-E I-S N-O-T L-O-S-T.

The blood drains from your face. You haven’t heard your real name in years, haven’t really thought about it anymore. Not since they deleted you. Not since you buried your identity beneath layers of stolen credentials and silence. You haven’t said it out loud in over a decade, and yet Gojo, somehow, has pulled it from the ash of the system.

Your fingers tremble as you check the uplink. Audio disabled. Mic off. Camera one-way only.

And then he moves.

On the main monitor, he lifts his head. Slowly. Deliberately. A shadow peels off his face as he moves, revealing bright, unblinking blue eyes so unnaturally clear they almost seem backlit, glowing faintly in the sterile light of the cell. They’re the kind of eyes that look through things. Through you. His snow-white hair falls messily across his brow, damp with sweat, strands catching the light like glass threads. His gaze drifts upward, towards the embedded lens in the ceiling. Not by accident. Not vaguely. He’s looking exactly at it. Like he knows. Like he’s always known.

“You’re not just watching me, are you?”

His voice cuts through the air like it was born in your own skull. There’s no channel open. No possible path for transmission. But you hear him. Not through the speakers. Inside you. Like an echo pressed into the bones of your mind.

Your stomach knots. It shouldn’t be possible. None of this should be possible. But there he is, staring through the screen like it’s a window. Not a barrier.

You tear off your headset, breathing hard. Your heartbeat is thunder in your ears. Fear mixes with something else, something sharp and electric. Recognition.

He knows you.

You run a trace, frantically chasing the path of the message. Firewalls, encrypted data towers, black protocols. None of it explains this. Until you find it, buried deep beneath government code, nearly fossilised.

ECHO_01.

Your code. Your old failsafe. A hidden backdoor you wrote long ago when you were still someone. Meant to preserve the humanity of the mind before the State tore it away.

You never thought it survived. But it did. Just like Gojo.

Your hand moves on its own, reaching for the mic. One word makes it out, soft and strangled.

“…Satoru.”

He blinks, and a slow, knowing smile touches his lips.

“They’re watching,” he says, as calm as if you’re old friends meeting after lifetimes. “But not like you. You see me.”

Your throat tightens. He presses a hand to the mirrored wall of his cell. Without thinking, you lift your own to the screen. The glass is cold, but your fingertips tingle like they’ve made contact.

“I’m waking up,” he says, and there’s something infinite in his voice. “But I need you to do something.”

Lights flicker overhead. Sirens whine to life, metallic and angry. Unauthorised contact detected. Protocol breach. They know.

“I need you,” Gojo whispers, “to remember who you are.”

Then he steps even closer. Slow, measured movements, like he's afraid to scare you off. The sterile light above him flickers, throwing long shadows that stretch across the walls of his containment cell. His face tilts toward the lens, and for a heartbeat, it feels like he’s looking straight through it, straight into you.

You know it’s impossible. The camera is one-way. The interface is untraceable. You're buried under a mile of concrete and dead signal. And yet—

His eyes. Those bright, glacial blue eyes. They seem to lock onto yours with impossible clarity. Like he can see your expression, read the panic in your posture, feel the way your breath catches in your chest.

He leans in closer. So close now that the strands of his snow-white hair fall into his eyes, soft and fine like ash caught in moonlight. The monitor pixelates slightly under the pressure of his proximity, but even through the static, his presence is overwhelming.

“I remember,” he says softly.

Your pulse is a drumbeat in your ears. The sirens blare overhead, sharp, mechanical alarms that tell you you’ve gone too far, that containment has been breached, that someone is coming. But none of that feels real. Only his voice feels real.

“I remember what they took from you,” he breathes. “From us.”

Your hand is still pressed against the screen, trembling now. You don’t know why, but something inside you cracks. A fragment of something long buried rises to the surface, an image you can’t place, a laugh you don’t remember making, the echo of warmth in a world that turned cold long ago.

Gojo doesn’t flinch as the lights around him dim and flicker. He just keeps watching you.

“I remember the garden,” he whispers, barely audible beneath the shriek of the alarms. “The light in your eyes. You said we weren’t meant to be weapons. We believed that, once.”

Your breath stutters. A tear slips down your cheek before you even realise it’s there. Your fingers curl against the glass.

“I need you to wake up,” he says, voice like smoke and snow. “Because I can't do this without you.”

Then everything goes black. Feed terminated. Bunker silent.

But the silence doesn’t feel empty.

Because deep beneath the layers of dead code and static, his voice still pulses in your mind.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you

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user946468 · 3 months ago

Note

Hii, I noticed that you take requests! I was wondering if maybe you could write about reader finding out that Chishiya got shot in season2 ep7 and how she would react when she finds him? Thank you so much if you write it!

Can you see me now? | Chishiya Shuntaro x Reader Oneshot

Helloo! Thank you so much for the request, I hope it meets your expectations<3 Also I apologize, i got carried away lol, It also might be a little different than you anticipated - but regardless I hope you like!

Fluff than Angst mixed with Fluff than Angst. WC - 5,403 words

Disclaimer, this is not connected to my ongoing fic so the reader will act differently and the readers story line with change -nonetheless, please enjoy! (Also this might be out of character?? Idk i tried)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When clothed pads of feet made their way down the hall you shot a quick smile over your shoulder, each of your hands carrying a warm plate. Chishiya nodded silently back in response, he never did fully stare you in the eye's during the morning. He stopped for a second, leaning into the door frame so he could tug his sweats back down over his ankle - it must had rid up his calf sometime in the night.

Huffing in amusement, you waited for him to take a seat at the table before pushing the plate of food towards him.

You meet Chishiya during the Jack of Hearts game.

Or rather, you knew him through Ippei.

You had joined the Hearts game far earlier than necessary, it was the first blimp you came across while running from the array of bullets and reluctantly, with tried limbs and a desperate need for coverage - joined the game. The stone walls were cold, and your jaw clenched when the cells bars came into view - everything about the situation was eerie, the hovering couple that eyed your every step just made it worse.

For awhile it was just you and them.

You stood on the opposite end of the floor.

One by one the group increased in size, everyone very different than the next - observing the situation as time passed is what pushed you to introduce yourself to Ippei, he was shuffling his weight on each foot and stood alone in a dark corner, eyeing everyone like they were a snake about to strike out.

Poor kid looked like he was about to bolt for the door or pass out at any moment.

You were naturally an anxious person, and maybe that's why you sympathized with him enough to talk to him - or maybe his skittish behavior was making yourself increasingly nervous.

He was shy, and timid - and he seemed to appreciate your appearance more than you anticipated. And so you stayed, killing your boredom and the mans nerves simultaneously - he talked about his animals back home, you shared details about yours and encouraged him to talk about his hobbies he deemed were too "childish" to share.

You left some time in between, after Ippei lightheartedly declined your invitation you sought out the building - multiple gendered bathrooms, dozens of cells, and a room stocked with in-date food. When you came back with a large bag of cookies, Ippei was talking with someone.

Someone new.

He had shoulder length bleached hair, and dark hooded eye's, so much so they almost looked pitch black at first glance - and he was staring at you. Cause Ippei was motioning at you to join them, and for a moment you almost walked away. He was a lot more intimidating than Ippei, and the difference in dynamic mixed with the clear fact that he had to come up to Ippei first is what worried you.

And yet you still moved to their direction, and you still held out the opened bag towards Ippei, and he still took it with multiple thanks, because of course he did, and you even held the package out to the blond. A silent "please don't kill me" undertone followed your actions.

With a shallow breath, he hummed and grabbed a small handful - much to your surprise, and thankfully didn't threaten you in any way. Who would have known cookies could save your life?

And that was it. For the remainder of the game you two passed cookies around and didn't kill each other. Not when people grouped up, slowly taking turns in betraying each other, not when you stood silently by Ippei's cell, never daring to look in- Chishiya even had the decency to stand next to you for a few minutes, before turning around and walking away without either of you sharing a word.

When the game ended you followed him silently.

"..Can I come with you?"

"No."

And yet still, your footsteps followed behind his in sync, he knew you were there without having to turn around.

"Please?"

Chishiya sighed, "If your going to follow me anyways, why ask?"

"Common courtesy."

You picked up on the undertone of re-direction Chishiya tried to send your way- taking sharp turns and even pointed out a flock of pigeons that seemed to enjoy humans more than most- but you were in no rush. You stayed behind and stared at the pigeons for a while until you got bored, and until Chishiya was out of sight to start following his fresh footprints made in the dusty road.

When you saw he was rummaging around a convenience store, quite close to where he left you, you deemed he couldn't have minded you following him all that much if he stayed in a vicinity he knew you could find him at.

And that's how you ended up staying together, with Chishiya letting you tug him around to find a vacant house next to a clean stream, you gracing the house with a generator that works with solar power. If Chishiya was honest, it was about as convenient as the Beach, and considering the lack of Niragi - maybe even better. And, possibly, that's why he stayed.

With a high eyebrow he glanced between you and the plate set in front of him, completely un-moving he asked, "What's this?"

You wanted to roll your eyes. It was, by far, not the first time you've cooked for the man sense you've started to share the house together. It's not like you were doing this out of the goodness of your heart, for one it would be a shame to not use the house for what's its worth, and two it took your mind off.. well everything. And without fail, every time you've presented him with a plate, or a bowl, or a cup of coffee - he always acts likes you just placed a bomb in front of him.

Setting your own plate down, you sit across from him and make an attempt to match his unimpressed expression, you accidentally (very purposeful) kick at his shin under the table. "Sprinkle pancakes."

"I know that," he grumbles out after a inhale of a hiss, you are given a sharp glare, "But why?"

You shrug aimlessly, "You lack whimsy in your life."

Chishiya accepted that answer, all though he huffed audibly enough to make it known he was displeased by it.

Chishiya doesn't fully understand you, you both knew that - and your not sure if that was entirely a bad thing. He questioned why you cooked for him, why you followed him, why you would willingly live with him when you would obviously be fine alone, I mean you've gotten this far by yourself haven't you? And all he got in response were shrugs, or half assed answers that didn't really mean anything - and if you were honest, your still haven't figured that out yourself. Not why you helped him, but why you helped him specifically.

What you did know is that you didn't like being alone - which you did tell Chishiya, and he wasn't bad company to have - so you decided to keep him around. After all, it's not like you left him much choice.

Through a mouth full of pancake he muttered behind a napkin, "I'm going out today."

You eye'd Chishiya for a moment, as non compliant as he acted around your cooking he always seemed to have a large appetite for it. Cleaning his plate every time without fail, finishing it in the same ten minutes you put it down - and at least five of those minutes are spent making sure his mouth and hands are as clean as possible. At least if you have leftovers you know they're never going to waste.

"Thank god," you say, "It's getting boring around here."

"You're not going."

You scoff, Chishiya has a knack of not wanting you to go anywhere with him, no matter the circumstance.

"Chishiya, don't be so prissy." You scold, pointing an accusing fork his way - your insult didn't stop him from taking another bite, drenched so heavily in syrup you scrunch your nose up. It can't even taste like a pancake at that point.

"You're a hassle."

“Your ass is a hassle,” you retaliate, and when Chishiya stood up with an empty plate and walked passed you to the kitchen - you waited for the perfect moment before snapping a kitchen towel at him - just a little too far down his torso to even be consider his back anymore.

When he looked back you were innocently chewing down your last bite and staring at him questioningly, a hand towel laid limply on the other side of the room. The speed Chishiya spun around in was almost comical, your not sure your ever seen Chishiya move that fast willingly sense you've meet him.

"You're also childish."

Through his glare you could swear you saw just a flicker of a smile, a huff of amusement.

You let out an airy chuckle, "Can't deny that," A huff escapes your lips when you slump into your chair, you pause with your cup inches from your mouth and scan Chishiya.

"But you know, I need to go." You state, "I need a restock, and by the looks of it you could do with a bar of soap or two."

You knew what you were doing, and he knew it too - self care and whatever D-I-Y mechanical shit Chishiya was looking for were on opposite sides of the mall, therefor whenever you ran out, he was more willing to let you come along. Not that you need his permission, or that you'll listen to him anyway.

Chishiya dwelled for a few seconds - you could only assume wonder if you coming along or you complaining about him saying no was worse - although he's taking longer to contemplate than usual, and it made you wonder if this time he was actually being serious - but he nodded before you could take it back.

You tilt your head slightly in thought.

"You could do with an exorcist," he mumbles, taking your empty plate from the table, he looks thoroughly done when you huff out a sarcastic, "Wow, unbelievable, and here I thought we were friends." You decided to keep quiet after that, considering he looked a few seconds away from throwing your plate back at your head - or maybe that was always how his face looked.

While Chishiya made his way back to the hallway, you noticed he used both his hands to cover his backside from you - you had to hide a laugh behind your hand. For the sake of your life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The street laid empty, bare before you. No people, no animals, no man made noises - nothing except Chishiya and your own footsteps. And so you let him appreciate it, the only time you spoke was when you asked earnest questions or were responding back to his little quips towards you.

"Do you always walk this fast?"

"Obviously your warm, your wearing a jacket in eighty degree weather. I didn't point it out cause I thought it was just another one of your weird quirks."

"Can you not walk straight?"

"Why are you touching everything? Can't keep your hands to yourself?"

Most of the time you wonder why Chishiya even bothers - what does he get out of staying with you? If you know what your looking for you can find a duplicate generator, there are many other open stream and vacant homes to pick and yet he stays in the one you choose - with you - and engages in conversation and eats the food you make.

You have given him multiple chances at leaving, as persistent and prodding as you can be you both new it was mocked-up for your own amusement and that you wouldn't cry or beg for him to stay - he knew that, and yet he doesn't leave. And maybe it's just one of those things you don't ask aloud, and so you never have.

Twirling a small flower between your fingers you lead a few steps in front of Chishiya, while walking backwards - you had asked him to throw something at you if there was anything behind you just encase, after all you knew he wouldn't have taken it up if you just asked him to just tell you instead.

You squinted at the plant while holding it up towards him, pearly white petals that matched his jacket and textured line that matched his hair, you smiled - yup, that's the one.

"What are you doing?"

"I got you something."

You jogged the short distance and held your hand out, his eye's followed to where your fell - his nose scrunched up.

Chishiya held it between two fingers, dangling by a single petal he asked, "What am I supposed to do with this?"

You scowl at him, how ungrateful, "Sleep with it, tape it to your mirror, braid it into your hair-" you sarcastically remark, one foot after the other you stepped backwards, "-or you could be a normal person and just keep it."

"Why would I keep-"

As soon as your heel felt the jagged fall of your foot you knew what was coming, your body instinctively let out an 'oofh' sound when falling ass first down onto hard concrete.

You hissed sharply.

A pointed rock dug harshly into your skin, it prodded so hard into your muscle your sure it left an indent and Chishiya - the bastard - laughed.

A real laugh.

The first you've ever heard come out of the man, so much heavier than his usually light huffs of breath he lets out - and of course, it was at that.

Chishiya plucked a petal off the flower, and made an exaggerated 'throw' motion of it at your fallen figure.

"You're a bitch. Did you know that?”

Chishiya shrugged, a light shake of his shoulders still lingering from his laugh.

You followed up with strings of cuss words, having to help yourself up and rub out the pain in your hip - before turning around you notice Chishiya's finger loosen around the stem.

"If you drop that I'm killing myself."

Chishiya snorts, "Promise?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From the first gun shot you already had a grasp of who it involved.

You were still inside the mall, searching around for more toothpaste and gauze - you even stocked up on a few unscented bar soaps to humor Chishiya. He had left you as soon as you too set foot in the mall, turning a sharp corner and mumbling out a "If you need me, don't."

By the time your brain even registered his comment he was too far gone to hear you comment back, you had to retaliate by flipping the back of his head off. Not as satisfactory, but it'll do.

It was uncannily quiet - just like always, and there was an uncomfortable tense of your body when the shot rang through the air. It echoed around the mall is waves, a mock sound in your ear - It made you stop your hand mind air, and for a second you didn't breath. A single shot, nothing like the kind of spades - your jaw tensed painfully.

A minute of silence, than another, and a another-

A second shot, a third, a fourth- you craned your neck to the window, to your irritation it was completely useless, covered in layers of muck and mold - your mind raced.

What were the chances Chishiya was stupid enough to get in a gun fight?

If you were wrong about him being involved, would you be willing to putting yourself at risk for the chance of his life being on the line? You thought back to his comment, if you need me, don't, did that also apply to you? Would he look down on you for reassuring yourself that he was okay?

Your eye's danced around the empty room, anxious and heavy breathed - in a split second you decided that it wouldn't matter what Chishiya thought about you if he was dead.

With heavy foot steps you jogged through the store, and out into the central building- faster than you would ever admit to him - and scanned the area hopefully. If Chishiya wasn't involved there would be a high chance he would wan't to be, or at the very least watch - you swallowed heavily, and tried to remind yourself to relax your jaw. The pounding of your lungs go unnoticed.

Chishiya wasn't here.

By the time you hesitantly peer around the entrance - hidden enough to jump back if you were threaten by another round of shots- it was silent, there was no sound to be made out, just the wind whistling in your ears. No heavy gunshot, no loud commotions, just.. nothing.

And if it wasn't for the sight of two figures, crouched down a few yards away you would have thought that you were going insane - the gunshots a fragment of your imagination- hell, in that moment you wouldn't be surprised if someone told you that Chishiya was too.

You let yourself slip from behind the frame, just far enough to squint blindly at the two. Neither of them were blond, which was a good sign - and your pulse should have calmed at that or the weight should have at least eased off your shoulders but instead it only made you glance around more frantically, throat clenching around itself tightly.

This was not the time to be playing fucking hide-and-seek.

Where the hell was he?

Unconsciously you took a few steps forwards, trying to seeking out every inch of ground before you - eyes scattered on around the road, at cars, in buildings- "Aw, shit."

For a moment, you were more worried you snapped your neck from how fast you turned your head rather than the man in front of you - although it was very short lived. Crumpled and bloody, fresh wounds mixed in with old scars that ran along his body - was he even properly alive?

The thought of helping him crossed your mind, although you didn't know who he was or why he was sprawled on in the middle of Tokyo street you did know that you had gauze - and a lot of it.

You paused to toe the gun away from him carefully.

He eye'd you for a second, than followed your line of sight to his wounds. He tilted his head back, just enough to stare into your eye's, a slight scowl burned on his lips- there was something familiar in his eyes. A certain vacant dullness in his stare at briefly reminded you of Chishiya - the mans scowl depend, dared you to say something. About his gunshot wound or his scars you didn't know.

Trying to find the words to say your head nodded, an almost frantic side to side motion, "Uh-"

A firm but uncharacteristically soft call of your name, and if you had time to decipher it you would almost say it sounded desperate. Throat muscles tensed as you swung your head around, tendons straining and yet you couldn't care - if you kept this up your head might as well just fall off.

"I would get away from him if I was you." Chishiya called, laboring his limbs to to try and sit up - his elbow shook underneath him before collapsing all together, he would have headbutted the ground if the boy with black hair wasn't holding him up.

A dark gradient of a hole bled through his shoulder.

"You know that piece of shit?" His voice was broken, raw and scratchy - his sentence broke in the middle, words coming out though gargles - and yet he seemed determine to finish it.

"Unfortunately," You croak - and after the initial shock still of your limps your feet dragged you forwards on autopilot, eye's that never left the pit that hallowed through his chest. You blindly searched through your jacket pocket - it was so unnatural to see Chishiya in such a state, one that left him vulnerable and raw, one you thought you would never get too see - you pulled out a large wad of bondage wrap, inhaling through your mouth when you felt your nose has become too restrictive of air.

It was even weirder having Chishiya openly stare at you while like that.

"Long time no see."

It was spoken through a breath, airy and light - his throat barley vibrating enough to be making any sounds at all. He was looking at you, or some place on you, you couldn't tell - he was bleeding and it was runing through the seeps of a hand and staining his jacket, his favorite jacket and you know it'll be a pain to scrub off and your don't remember the last time you took a full breath and Chishiya hissed when you tightly held the gauze to his wound - the girl moved her hand early on when she saw your attention to the wrap not touching the ground. What good will he be too you if he dies from an infection later on?

"Shut the fuck up."

"You this rude to every dying man?"

You held the gauze tighter, how could he be joking right now? With your hands desperately trying to hold his life intact? You glared at him through heavy lidded eyes, "Chishiya."

He grumbled something about you being 'no fun' under his breath, but hey, at least he was saving it.

"You're y/n?"

It was the girl, she had soft eyes and bloodied hands - blood of Chishiya's, warm, fresh blood that spilled onto the gauze, gauze that laid fisted in your hands - you blinked dryly. Your eyes stung and yet nothing was coming out of them - you swore it felt like someone was prodding around your brain from the inside.

You nodded silently, you didn't want to know how she knew your name or where she heard it from.

"You're doing this all wrong you know," Chishiya mumbles, his head still laid limply on the ground but now it was tilted at an angle he could see you at, "At this rate I'll be dead any minute now."

The word 'dead' bounced around in your mind like a ping pong ball, hitting each nerve that shortens your breath, and now you couldn't even come up with a snarky reply - you were half minded to tell him to shut up again, to save his breath - but all you could do was desperately push down a little harder on his wound, stack the gauze a little taller.

"Chishiya, I don't know what I'm doing, I-" You followed the strings of blood that fell in thick drops down is torso, they way they seeped through the bright clothes and the way his eye's seemed to soften ever so slightly around the edges wen you gave him a pleading look.

He couldn't die here, not like this, not by your inexperienced hands - not in a way so far from how anyone would've imagined it.

Chishiya huffed, but it wasn't malicious, "First off, you could calm down, I heard breathing helps-"

"Run!"

Guns shoots fire through the empty street, this time multiple - this time you knew it was the king of spades. Your flight or fight instinct kicked a small, fleeting thought to run, to save yourself, to shield from the bullets - but you ears were already ringing, and your hands were already stained and you knew you could escape - but Chishiya?

An amused grunt turned into one of surprise, than into one of pain - and you had to shift your entire body weight to lift Chishiya to sit up, one hand still occupied with putting pressure on his wound. You felt fidgeted, and you knew you were still slightly dazed but it didn't stop you from trying to shift Chishiya to hide behind a rusted car - one near a narrow alleyway that you thought would barricade the too of you.

Someone helped, weather it was the boy or the girl you didn't pay any mind too, but you mentally thanked whoever it was - maybe you shouldn't have been feeding him all those fatty meals after all. The position was awkward, and pulled at your joints in ways you didn't know your body could go - but it worked, a narrow miss of bullets shot a little too close to your head.

After some time the person left, and you clumsily pulled off your jacket to try and help aid Chishiya just a little more - thankfully when you glanced his way his eye's were still open, drowsily - but opened nonetheless. With a calculated pressure you knew would stop the bleeding, and yet not hard enough to harm him any worse, you pushed with one arm - another round of bullets, you feel beside him. A mix of mental and physical exhaustion assisted in pushing you down.

Another round of bullets, you brought your knees to your chest, a scream, you covered your head with your free arm - you were practically cuddled up to Chishiya, fresh blood stained your pants.

None of you spoke, both of you waited.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were alive.

The both of you were, and finally it was quiet. The same quiet that flooded around you just hours before, when Chishiya wasn't bleeding out and you were of sound mind. You felt stitched in positions, never removing your head from you lap and staring blankly into the small shadow that loomed under you, your jaw itched with tightness - and whenever Chishiya's breath got a little too shallow, too lifeless for your liking you pressed a little harder and waited for his breath to hitch - this time it didn't.

Your breath caught in your throat when you looked up - his head lolled to the side, eye's closed and chest unmoving - and you panicked. Blinking rapidly you snapped in front of his face - no response - you shook his shoulder harder than you knew he would let you while alive- no response - you palm etched out, coming down with a loud 'wack' as it hit his face, his lead shifted to the other side lazily. No response.

Your nails dug crescents into your palm and you tried to swallow but your throat wouldn't let you, you were just vaguely aware of the small huff of desperation you let out before moving to strick your palm back out, his name on the tip of your tongue-

"Ow."

A heavy breath feel from your mouth, one you weren't aware you were holding.

"You asshole!" You snarled, falling back on your heels. "I thought you were dead."

Chishiya's eyes fluttered open passively, "Odd reaction to a dead man."

If he wasn't already on the brink of death you would've killed him.

You finger curled tighter into a fist, palms still lingering with the force of the slap - dejected you fell back beside him, even with your hand covering your nose your small sniffle could be heard - in fact it seemed to be intensified by the open area. Hair hiding your face, you looked away. Stupid fucking alleyway.

"Are you crying?"

Chishiya really didn't need his ego to be boosted any higher than necessary.

"No." You mutter out, because you weren't, and your eye's were dry and your nose was fine, thank you very much. And even if your breath came out unevenly, and your heart hammered through your rib cage and pulsed with every flow of blood - he didn't need to know that. And he shouldn't know that because he wouldn't care, so why do you?

"It's a perfectly normal reaction by medical standers - in fact it's actual healthier too cry, if we wan't to go into-"

With the same palm that etched across his face you covered his mouth, "Too much talking, not enough breathing."

He stopped for a moment, and just when you were about to pull back and let his airway breath freely a slick, moist feeling ran along your middle finger - it took you a second to pull back, eyebrows furred and confused before you stared at your wet palm in horror.

"Ohmygodohmygod," you searched frantically, brain scrambled and confused as what the hell you were supposed to do with that.

"I think the blood loose has gotten to you," You note, wiping your hand along his pant leg aggressively, Chishiya stared back indifferently.

"You told me to breath while blocking a vital airway."

You glare at him, "You have a nose."

Chishiya lifted him shoulders aimlessly.

You didn’t take the time to answer, instead cupping around your blooded jacket that laid across his chest - the blood subsided vaguely, but not enough to make you any less anxious. There was still free flowing blood, and every time Chishiya moved he let out a groan - which with Chishiya, meant that it sent shock waves throughout his whole body.

“What do you think doctor, am I going to make it?”

You squinted at him aggravated, although you couldn’t deny the slightly engaging tone he held, “Why is it that only when you’re dying you have the urge to talk to me?”

“Funnily enough, right now is the only time I think I can tolerate your presence.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, deciding to ignore the underline of his words - after all, that was the closets thing to a compliment you think Chishiya is capable of. With a light touch you fling the sleeve of your jacket around his neck, creating a solid nest on-top of the wound, “Fatigued and half unconscious? How charming.”

He, decidingly, ignored you. “I’m a doctor.”

This made you pause, “An influence from my father, really. About the only influence he ever taught me.”

Chishiya’s eyes scanned the sky, jumping for cloud to cloud - and you couldn’t tell where his head was at. Where was this coming from? A slight furrow deepened between your eyebrows, and not to discourage him you continued to work your way around his gunshot.

“It was a futile attempt. I felt the same before as I did after.” Chishiya paused to drop his gaze to you, “People like you irk me. Simple as that. I find your selflessness stupid, and your optimism childish - and becoming a doctor didn’t change that.”

For a moment you thought he was joking - ready to roll you eyes and push your jacket down a little harder - but with a hardened look you realized he was serious. Chishiya looked as though he just asked you your favorite color, calm and collected and entirely raw.

And though his front was put together, carefully crafted like a jigsaw puzzle, your noticed the way his shoulders tightened back like he was bracing to be pushed away, his own fingers crawling to your jacket in hand - he expected you to let go, to hit him or yell, and maybe thats what he wanted.

But you were stubborn, and you would hate to give Chishiya what he wanted.

Heavily sighing, you let your weight fall back into him, still being cautious of his side.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You weren’t shocked to hear it. Disappointed? Maybe, but purely out of fact he tried something so obscure to urge you away - to deny a hand trying to help - and he thought it would be that easy.

You confirm an, “Okay.”

It was silent.

Chishiya breathing heaved a little more heavily than before, but his body loosened - you never knew he was tensed in the first place. Your breathing wasn’t any better - you swore a game of diamonds gave you asthma, making you breath spores for almost an hour straight - and even now if felt like they were blindly trying to claw there way out of your throat in every direction.

You felt a slight shift behind your shoulder, than a cold hand brushing your hair from you neck. Goosebumps appearing where his fingers laied - before resting on your pulse and he just.. stayed there.

Nibble fingers pressed against your skin, and it didn’t feel bad - farthest thing from it. And from time to time he’d circle his finger when he’d lose the thump of your heart, before finding it again. The motion would repeat.

"All surviving players will be presented with two choices. Players must now decide whether to accept permanent residency, or decline it."

"I want-" Chishiya voice was coarse when he spoke, and his finger dragged back down, "To turn it down, I think."

You gave a tiny smile, to no one but yourself, "I want.." his finger started to trail back up the hallow of your neck, "To accept."

Chishiya's finger froze.

#x reader #aib chishiya #alice in borderland #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya shuntaro x reader #chishiya x reader #chishiya shuntaro x you #chishiya x fem!reader #chishiya x you #aib x reader #aib fanfic #aib #alice in borderlands headcanons #alice in borderlands #chishiya

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nasa · 2 years ago

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Navigating Deep Space by Starlight

On August 6, 1967, astrophysicist Jocelyn Bell Burnell noticed a blip in her radio telescope data. And then another. Eventually, Bell Burnell figured out that these blips, or pulses, were not from people or machines.

The blips were constant. There was something in space that was pulsing in a regular pattern, and Bell Burnell figured out that it was a pulsar: a rapidly spinning neutron star emitting beams of light. Neutron stars are superdense objects created when a massive star dies. Not only are they dense, but neutron stars can also spin really fast! Every star we observe spins, and due to a property called angular momentum, as a collapsing star gets smaller and denser, it spins faster. It’s like how ice skaters spin faster as they bring their arms closer to their bodies and make the space that they take up smaller.

The pulses of light coming from these whirling stars are like the beacons spinning at the tops of lighthouses that help sailors safely approach the shore. As the pulsar spins, beams of radio waves (and other types of light) are swept out into the universe with each turn. The light appears and disappears from our view each time the star rotates.

After decades of studying pulsars, astronomers wondered—could they serve as cosmic beacons to help future space explorers navigate the universe? To see if it could work, scientists needed to do some testing!

First, it was important to gather more data. NASA’s NICER, or Neutron star Interior Composition Explorer, is a telescope that was installed aboard the International Space Station in 2017. Its goal is to find out things about neutron stars like their sizes and densities, using an array of 56 special X-ray concentrators and sensitive detectors to capture and measure pulsars’ light.

But how can we use these X-ray pulses as navigational tools? Enter SEXTANT, or Station Explorer for X-ray Timing and Navigation Technology. If NICER was your phone, SEXTANT would be like an app on it.

During the first few years of NICER’s observations, SEXTANT created an on-board navigation system using NICER’s pulsar data. It worked by measuring the consistent timing between each pulsar’s pulses to map a set of cosmic beacons.

When calculating position or location, extremely accurate timekeeping is essential. We usually rely on atomic clocks, which use the predictable fluctuations of atoms to tick away the seconds. These atomic clocks can be located on the ground or in space, like the ones on GPS satellites. However, our GPS system only works on or close to Earth, and onboard atomic clocks can be expensive and heavy. Using pulsar observations instead could give us free and reliable “clocks” for navigation. During its experiment, SEXTANT was able to successfully determine the space station’s orbital position!

We can calculate distances using the time taken for a signal to travel between two objects to determine a spacecraft’s approximate location relative to those objects. However, we would need to observe more pulsars to pinpoint a more exact location of a spacecraft. As SEXTANT gathered signals from multiple pulsars, it could more accurately derive its position in space.

So, imagine you are an astronaut on a lengthy journey to the outer solar system. You could use the technology developed by SEXTANT to help plot your course. Since pulsars are reliable and consistent in their spins, you wouldn’t need Wi-Fi or cell service to figure out where you were in relation to your destination. The pulsar-based navigation data could even help you figure out your ETA!

None of these missions or experiments would be possible without Jocelyn Bell Burnell’s keen eye for an odd spot in her radio data decades ago, which set the stage for the idea to use spinning neutron stars as a celestial GPS. Her contribution to the field of astrophysics laid the groundwork for research benefitting the people of the future, who yearn to sail amongst the stars.

Keep up with the latest NICER news by following NASA Universe on X and Facebook and check out the mission’s website. For more on space navigation, follow @NASASCaN on X or visit NASA’s Space Communications and Navigation website.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

#NASA #pulsar #Jocelyn Bell Burnell #spaceblr #space #star #neutron star #deep space #telescope #navigation #universe #astronomy #science

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shotosjupiter · 1 month ago

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ARTISTIC CREATION

pairing - ryomen sukuna x artist! reader

⤷ warnings/content: mentions of blood, gn! reader, and fluff! soft sukuna (when is it not)

sukuna's hands are bigger than yours. his fingers are thick and the skin is always slightly rough. there's the outline of veins running down his hand to his arm where the two tattoo bands line his wrist.

when he holds your hands, his hold is always tight and secure. he holds your hand like he's keeping you safe. he's the lock and you're the key.

he holds your hands with firmness but still with a certain gentility he only carries with you. a softness that makes the flecks of rusted red under his fingernails seem like a paradox.

while his hands trace and caress and love your body oh-so delicately, his hands also tear and destroy and leave bloodshed in places you don't see. they are coated in blood and drip rivulets of red down his arm, a mockery of the blue veins under his skin. a painting of red.

in contrast, your hands are smudged with an array of colors. some days it is the color of the sky mixed with the soft smudge of clouds. on others, it is the shading of the charcoal pencil that leave their traces on the sides of your fingers and your pulse point of your wrist.

your hands create. they create art of all forms while his hands destroy. they destroy and crumble and yet at the end of the day, when they come to you, they cradle your face while he murmurs his adorations for you.

sukuna already carried a strong belief that you were too good for this world but he gets his belief solidified on the day that you grab his wrist and drag him to your studio.

there, you sit him down on a stool and instruct him to close his eyes. he grumbles but obliges, of course he does, and only opens his eyes when you instruct him to do.

you stand there with your arms gesturing enthusiastically to the canvas next to you. what's on the canvas? why, it's him.

it's sukuna painted in a hue of reds and maroons, the shadows of his eyes darkened in a burgundy along with the markings on his face. it holds his essence but... something about it is different. different in the way that the artist delivered each brush stroke with love and affection. different in the way that the artist knew every inch of his skin and had to make sure it was portrayed to perfection because that's how they viewed him.

"you painted me." he says it like statement, not a question.

you nod, "do you like it?"

there's a silence. he's taking in every square inch of the canvas, trying to understand how it is you see him in such a way. his eyes dart from corner to corner of the canvas and if you look closely you can see the soft flush creeping on the apple of his cheeks.

sukuna gets up and slowly slides his hands around your waist and drops his head onto your shoulder. he brings you close so that you're chest to chest as if the proximity could transport his feelings for you on a cell-to-cell level. you can feel his breaths on your neck as he leaves a kiss right beneath your ear.

he kisses behind your earlobe, down your neck, to your adam's apple, to your collarbone. he sucks the skin there momentarily, before leaving another gentle kiss there like a finishing signature. "you're the real art here."

you let out a giggle and run a hand through his hair. "sap," you tease while you twirl the strands of his hair around your artful fingers.

he snorts a laugh before poking your ribs. "you're the one who painted me like that."

"like what?"

another silence. this one is more full of hesitance and thoughts than observation. "like i'm someone worth loving."

you frown at this but continue to play with his hair. "you are worth loving, ryo. i choose it every day and every day i don't regret it."

he hums in response and traces circles on your hip, unsure of what to say. he presses another kiss to your neck, grinning at the rapid pulse pattering under the skin of your neck. "thank you."

sukuna stays in your arms, in the home of your artist freedom where he feels love drift to and from his chest like an endless abyss. he would always be thankful of the artist you are and the art you create.

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thesewordsareallihavetogive · 18 hours ago

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3: The House - Jack Abbot x reader (Life imitates art Series)

Summary: 5.6k words. Domestic moments & milestones in Jack’s happily ever after ❤️ Life imitates art Series masterlist

The Art: “My House” (1938) is an oil painting by Johanna W. Hailman (1871-1958), an artist from Pittsburgh, PA. The Carnegie Museum of Art houses several of her works. I really enjoyed researching Pittsburgh art and artists for this series. I highly recommend checking out her body of work.

Warnings: 18+ish content. Nothing too explicit, but mdni anyway please :) Age gap,, gen X, millennials, and gen Z are all catching strays. sorry :) colorful language, angst, fluff, everything in between.

a/n: So this might be my favorite thing I’ve ever written. I took my time with her and I maybe waxed poetic at certain points, but I really love this. I listened to “Unknown / Nth” by Hozier while writing this. do with that information what you please. Divider credit!

It isn’t long before you take the liberty of adding some zest to Doctor Abbot’s apartment. It looked like a barren bachelor pad. If it weren’t for the larger than necessary flat screen TV and luxe sofa, you might’ve compared it to a prison cell. It was bare bones, with an exposed ceiling and concrete floors—that was part of the appeal of the “historic” building Jack moved into. "Rustic”, the realtor had called it. Unfinished, Jack corrected in his mind. Nevertheless, Abbot moved in and paid more money than he ought’ve.

You start small. A throw blanket laid across the back of the couch. You claim it was one from your smaller apartment that you just happened to bring along. You don’t admit that you bought the blanket at a recent art market from a local knitting vendor with the specific intention of bringing it into Jack’s space.

Things really snowballed when Jack gave you a key to his apartment. He liked coming home to you and often invited you to sleep at his place when he worked. His apartment was in a safer neighborhood and he felt better knowing you weren’t sleeping alone at your apartment—despite the door chain, two comically large and loud locks, and the doorbell camera he installed for you.

A singular knitted throw blanket turned into multiple decorative pillows on his couch and king bed. One morning he came home to see a coffee and tea bar cart had been assembled in his kitchen, complete with more ornate mugs than either of you needed.

During a night shift, he got a text from you that made him pause.

23:14 How emotionally attached are you to the sanctity of your bare walls?

Oscillating bubbles danced at the bottom of his phone screen as you typed out another text.

23:15 Follow up question: If I were to have hypothetically nailed multiple holes in some hypothetical drywall and studs to hang some art on a hypothetical whim, would you be opposed? Should I patch it up with some plaster and paint and we can pretend we never had this conversation? Hypothetically?

Jack chuckled and received a not-so-subtle stare from the charge nurse. Since when is Doctor Abbot the type to look smitten at his phone so late on a weeknight?

The one thing you don’t touch in your decorating crusade is Jack’s medical journals. The organization system—or perhaps lack thereof—is beyond you. It makes no sense, and you’re honestly not sure if there is any rhyme or reason to it. You don’t want to add anymore chaos to Abbot’s life, even in the minute form of shuffled journals. Instead, you wordlessly placed thrifted book ends and trinkets on his book shelf, thinking he might take it upon himself to migrate the medical journals to the shelf himself.

He does, after you’ve gone to bed. There is an order to it, a method to the madness that is the array of journals, however not even Doctor King is likely to decipher it.

Jack eventually slipped under the covers next to you and pulled you close to his chest. He kissed your forehead and muttered a soft “thank you.” You don’t hear him in your deep slumber, but you did nuzzle closer to his warm body. Even in sleep, you gravitate toward his safe and steady figure.

One night, Robby came over to Abbot’s apartment for a post-shift beer when Pittsburgh’s winter made it too cold to sit outside in the park.

Robby eyed his surroundings. You’d clearly been here, blessing the walls with your touch as you went.

There’s a framed photo of Abbot and Robby displayed on the couch’s end table. Based on the frame’s ornate details, Michael seriously doubts that Jack had anything to do with it. Abbot has a good sense of humor, but he’s often otherwise cool and clinical. His style is… utilitarian. It was only recently that Robby noticed something other than a spare set of scrubs and some Advil in the night shift attending’s locker. A single 4x6 photo of Abbot and his girlfriend, taped to the inside of the cold metal door alongside a polaroid picture of you painting.

Robby smiles warmly at the framed photo in Abbot’s living room. You weren’t decorating to transform Jack’s apartment into your place, but rather, you hoped to make it a place that felt like home for him, complete with pictures of his closest friend.

It was a good look, both on the apartment and Doctor Abbot. The night shift attending was the happiest Robby had seen him in a long time.

You arrive at Jack’s apartment following an after hours private tour at the museum. It’s a few minutes past 8 when you show up. Jack and Robby are resting their weary bones in the couch’s plush cushions watching the puck drop of a Penguin’s hockey game when you waltz through the door. A few tiny snowflakes linger on your parka, the rest have since melted in your hair. Despite the below freezing temperature outside, you refuse to abandon your dresses, so you compromise with thermal flannel leggings underneath to preserve your warmth (at Jack’s gentle behest). Your boots aren’t nearly as functional as they are fashionable, but they get the job done until you strain to remove them at the door. Jack is just about to get up and help you before you resolutely tug the last one off, settling to your feet a few inches shorter than you were with the boots on.

“Hi Robby!” you greet as you round the back of the sofa, wordlessly pressing a soft kiss to Jack’s curls. You continue through the apartment toward the kitchen, mindlessly lighting a candle as you go.

“Tea, anyone?” you ask, pouring water into the kettle. You’re considerate not to distract from the game, even though you know Jack would’ve turned the TV off completely at the drop of a hat to give you his undivided attention.

“No, thank you,” Robby responds, your name warm and kind on his lips. “What a nice host.” His voice is soft, the compliment about you directed to Abbot. “Unlike someone…” he jokes, dodging a piece of popcorn Jack aimed at his head. There were many years Michael was left to fend for himself whenever he visited Jack’s apartment.

“You have two legs, you can walk to the damn fridge and get your own beer,” Abbot says pointedly, his eyes not leaving the flat screen TV.

“Touché,” Robby ceeds.

Jack left your apartment with no time to spare before his night shift. What was supposed to be a nap in your bed quickly evolved into something much more stimulating. He did eventually get some shut-eye with your naked form pulled against his after he took care of your worn-out body in the shower. Abbot supported your weight on his sturdy form when your legs were too shaky under the hot stream of water.

He was pleasantly aroused from his sleep when your featherlight touch morphed into your legs straddling his hips, challenging the “old man” to round 2. Unfortunately, quickies with Jack were never really quick. Hence, why he was tying the drawstrings of his pants as he jogged into the Pitt at 18:59.

You laid in bed, satiated after the evening’s activities. Just like you had left your mark on Jack’s apartment, evidence of him lingered in every room of yours. A quarter of the closet had been cleared out to make room for his stuff, though he insisted he really didn’t need that much space. Two drawers in your bedroom dresser served as the permanent residence of his essentials. Scrubs, socks, underwear, and his watch.

His watch.

Abbot never worked a shift and seldom left home without it. The tactical watch was set to 24-hour time and was outfitted with a 3-axis compass, LED flashlight, precise GPS coordination, and biometric tracking. It was a little over the top, in your opinion. There were very few situations you could fathom him needing a compass in the ED, as if he couldn’t navigate the halls blindfolded.

Jack didn’t really need the watch to get through this one shift. There’s large digital clocks in each trauma bay, and the nurses and residents around him are bound to have watches of their own. The med students would jump at the opportunity to tell him the time if needed.

Abbot doesn’t need much to survive. As long as he had a few MREs and his police scanner, he was set. His watch, though, was far up on the list of essentials.

You don’t think twice before getting out of bed and throwing on some clothes and fixing your hair; you want to at least look semi-presentable when you show up at the Pitt—not like you’d been freshly fucked within an inch of your life.

Jack didn’t have time to eat or pack food when he stumbled out of your apartment with his pants barely pulled up to his hips. You’re not sure what he calls the meal he scarfs down at 3 a.m., but the cafeteria certainly isn’t serving it at that hour. The food you whip up for him is a simple, quick dish. The sooner you and his watch get to him, the better. The food gets packed into pink tupperware and you slip a handwritten note alongside it in his lunch box. His watch is carefully tucked into your tote bag for safe keeping before you set off.

19:47 I’m on my way to the ER

In retrospect, you could have worded that text much better. Especially since your phone died right after you sent it to Jack.

Abbot doesn’t see the message until ten minutes after you sent it. He would’ve seen it sooner if the notification came through on his watch, he gripes internally. His blood runs cold when he squints enough to decipher the small text on his phone’s screen. Jack immediately calls you, but it goes straight to voicemail. Shit.

He’s instantly on edge, to the point where he brushes past an otherwise innocent med student who begins to ask him a question before they clam up at his shift in demeanor. Abbot’s head starts spinning as his mind goes to worst case scenarios. He’s an attending trauma physician, for Christ’s sake, but a seven word text has him ready to spin out.

Jack’s tunnel vision shifts to the Pitt’s internal lobby doors, where the triage RN calls his name as she leads someone toward him. He’s breathing heavily and he’s not masking his panic nearly as well as he hoped when you emerge from behind the nurse. The smile on your face quickly drops and turns to concern. Jack looks… unwell, for lack of a better term.

“Hey, honey,” you tread lightly. Abbot’s shoulders rise and fall unsteadily as his eyes rapidly dart over your unharmed body. The doctor grips your hand and drags you to a private area in the ED where he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. You squeak in surprise but ease into his hold nonetheless.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he mumbles into your hair, showing no signs of letting go soon.

“I- what?” you’re confused, eyebrows scrunched together as you lean back to assess him. Jack begrudgingly allows some distance, but his hands never leave your hips.

“I’m on my way to the ER?” He parrots back at you.

Oh. You wince. Poor choice of words is an understatement. You frown apologetically, before shifting your weight to your tip-toes, pressing a lingering kiss to his firm-lined lips and assuring him you’re okay. Jack sighs heavily and pulls you back into him, resting his chin atop your head. His breathing evens, syncing with yours, and you both relish in the quiet, though neither of you dares to utter the Q word out loud.

When Jack is back to his baseline—when he’s okay because he knows you’re okay—you clear your throat and poke at his taught obliques to get his attention.

“Before you get whisked away to a trauma, I brought you something.” You hold up the black lunchbox into his view and dig the watch out of your tote bag.

Jack smiles despite his settling anxiety.

To be loved is to be known.

He accepts both gratefully, securing the watch around his wrist in a few swift moments. He’s still not ready to let go of you, though he knows the tide of the Pitt will drag him back any minute now.

“You know, I much prefer it when you come here, not in a gurney,” Jack half-teases. You scoff.

“Funny you should say that, because I also like not experiencing a medical malfunction,” you poke back.

Two residents come running around the corner, searching for Doctor Abbot. He hesitates with you still loosely tucked into his side, but you gently push him toward the action with the promise that you’ll put his lunchbox in the employee lounge and you’ll see him at home.

A few weeks later, it’s Jack’s unscheduled turn to visit you at work. You meant to lend your copy of The French Revolution as Blasphemy to a coworker, Beth, in the thick of their masters program. Frustrated rifling through your tote bag proved that you had left the book at home. You begin to apologize to the woman, offering to bring it to her after work tonight, when Jack appears in your periphery. He smiles that boyish grin as he walks towards you. His limp is infinitesimal, barely noticeable to anyone but you. Hypocritically, you wonder when the last time he took a break from his prosthetic was.

Jack comes to a stop beside you with a paper bag of aromatic Union takeout in one hand and the exact art history book you left at home in the other. The doctor offers your coworker a polite smile and nod before his attention is back on you like a gravitational pull.

You’ve told him a few times that he has a staring problem.

“I saw it on the entryway table and I knew you meant to bring it in today,” Jack explains, raising the book in his hand as if it’s featherlight. “Besides, I was in the neighborhood,” he finishes with a kiss to your forehead and you lean into him instinctively. Your eyes flutter shut briefly before his words register and you pin him with a disbelieving look.

“No, you weren’t,” you call him on his bluff immediately. You know him, and you know that he should be sleeping right now after working a night shift.

“No, I wasn’t,” Jack admits quietly, a soft smile gracing his leathered, weathered face. “But I missed you, so who am I to pass up an opportunity,” (read: excuse) “to visit my beautiful girlfriend.” He seals the statement with another kiss to the crown of your head.

Beth looks on in awe. She doesn’t mean to intrude on a private moment, but she’s dumbfounded at the stunning specimen before her. You’ve mentioned your boyfriend, multiple times in fact, but she’d never actually seen him in the flesh, despite his frequent visits to the museum. Beth thinks that you also never mentioned that he’s a devilishly handsome silver fox that could make any woman with a competency kink weak in the knees.

A quiet cough from Beth pulls you back to your senses and manners. You introduce the two.

“Beth, this is Jack, my boyfriend. Jack, this is Beth, future museum director and my lovely coworker,” you smile kindly at the younger woman.

Beth sputters something that sounds like nice to meet you with a blush. You get it, you were her once too. Jack pretends not to notice her bashfulness and instead reaches out his hand to shake. He doesn’t comment on how clammy her palm is.

You can’t remember the last time you slept alone when Jack wasn’t working. The one year dating anniversary flew by and you looked forward to all the years with Jack to come. During one of your visits to the Pitt, a new nurse called you Mrs. Abbot and you didn’t correct her. It felt right.

Not too long after your anniversary, Jake mentioned going to some open houses.

“Like… real estate open houses? Like residential homes?” You laid the book you’d been immersed in for hours down on your lap, memorizing the page number and turning your full attention to your boyfriend.

Jack stood at the kitchen counter fidgeting with a mug of hot black coffee.

“Mmmhmm,” he confirmed around a sip. He’s trying to act casual, but you can sense the underlying hint of unease in his body language. He might be the doctor, but you had an unparalleled skill for assessing him. Abbot’s shoulders are tight, like he’s preparing for a rejection. As if his taut muscles will soften the blow. Your face softens and you patiently wait for him to continue.

“You and me. Looking at houses. To live in. Together.” He’s walking toward you now and he never breaks eye contact. That damn staring problem again. Jack has his plain coffee in one hand and a glass of your fancy iced latte in the other. He’s no barista, but he’s pretty damn close to perfecting your favorite home coffee recipe. You smiled wide at Jack. He thinks your cheeks might crack if they stay in that position much longer. Thankfully, you narrowly avoid it when you gently grip the collar of his shirt to pull him in for a kiss. Balancing two cups of coffee with his eyes closed as he leans into your sweet lips is a bit harrowing, but this isn’t his first rodeo, and he’s certain it won’t be the last.

“I’d love to,” you say it against his lips like a promise. When he reluctantly pulls away, he passes the iced latte to you and you take a sip, appraising his work. It’s perfect.

Two months later, you and Jack move into a two bed, two and a half bath home equidistant from the hospital and art museum. It’s a quaint brick home built in the 1960s; modernized enough for comfortable living with the home’s original character still preserved. Abbot doesn’t bat an eye when the real estate agent shares the list price. Meanwhile, you nearly sprayed a mouthful of water everywhere. The only place you’d personally seen a dollar amount so large was on your cancer treatment bills. It’s a significant change from Jack’s apartment’s open concept floor plan and vaulted ceilings, but as long as he got to share a bed with you, surrounded by nearly a dozen decorative pillows that you handpicked, he would be happy. It would feel like home.

When you first toured the home, it was more square feet than you knew what to do with—three times the footprint of your current “shoebox” apartment, as Jack called it. You quickly warm up to the layout when you note the abundant wall space, perfect for displaying art work.

The first order of business upon moving in—besides christening every surface—is building a new bookshelf to accommodate all the medical journals and art publications you could ever dream of owning. You and Jack were neck and neck tying for who had the most items of your respective academic interests claiming residence on the stained wooden shelves. The new ornate bookshelf proudly erected in the living room dwarfs the original one in your old apartment. It comfortably houses all of the reading material with room to grow.

Aside from your contributions to Jack’s previously bare bones bachelor pad, he doesn’t have much to contribute to the home’s interior. Before you, he didn’t spend much time there anyway; it was just a place to crash and bide time in between the borderline unhealthy amount of overtime shifts he picked up to keep himself busy. Abbot’s therapist informed him that simply not sleeping to avoid night terrors was not a healthy adaptive coping strategy.

The spare room of the new home is turned into your art studio. Robby and Abbot are careful to not disturb your supplies when they install a Murphy bed along the wall for when Michael inevitably stays over.

“Gone are the days when I can just cuddle up with you in bed after too many beers, brother,” Robby jokes as he passes a power drill to Abbot. Jack doesn’t find it funny nor does he laugh, but the deadpan look on his face makes you snicker as you walk past the room.

Real Housewives plays at a low volume on the TV opposite the foot of the master bedroom’s king bed at the end of the night. The his and hers closet doors had been removed from their hinges. A stained glass-inspired upcycle door project came to you in a fever dream, or maybe a targeted ad on pinterest. The two were one in the same, lately. Inside the closets your prosthetic leg stands side by side with Jack’s. The appendage with floral designs and pastel details contrasts Jack’s monotone prosthetic.

Abbot felt out of place in the big brand jewelry store. Most of the men in the store wore gaudy Rolex watches and flashy cufflinks, a far cry from his laidback style for a day date with you. This store is the first stop of however many it takes to find your engagement ring.

Apparently, there were taboos about a woman being directly involved in shopping for her own engagement ring. Reddit and Facebook users had a lot to say about the dos and don’ts of proposals, rings, and every other topic under the sun. None of the noise mattered to Jack though. Ultimately, he knew you would marry him regardless of what ring he proposed with, but he wanted it to be perfect. You deserve nothing less.

A sleazy salesman with greased back hair and a superiority complex approached the couple with a wolfish grin. As you spoke about ring styles you were interested in looking at, the man’s eyes never met yours. Instead, his gaze burned on your body, staring at places only Jack could touch.

You had to repeat yourself twice now to the salesman. Words were going in one dense ear, bouncing around his empty skull, and straight out the other. Abbot’s breaking point was when you leaned over the glass display case to look at a ring and the salesman used it as an opportunity to view your cleavage, complete with a pervy lip bite. Jack’s balled up fists remained steady by his side

The sharp click of Abbot’s tongue from the roof of his mouth got the salesman’s attention. The satisfied smirk on his face dropped at the deadly cold glare he received from Abbot. The two of you don’t stay in that store much longer.

“It’s a shame they didn’t have that many marquise cuts,” you said passively while looking up directions for the next jewelry store, not that Jack even needed them.

“Yeah. Shame.” Abbot’s jaw is clenched, but you know he’s not frustrated with you. You pressed a series of short and sweet kisses along his jawline, your fingers’ grip on his chin gentle but firm. You felt the tension leave his body in waves as you continued your ministrations. Your soft eyes meet his hard ones and he melts toward you in the middle. Jack understands all your unspoken words.

The next store offers better luck with the staff, but they don’t quite have what you’re looking for. Jack thinks he knows what you want. He’s seen your pinterest boards; he notices styles you eye curiously and others that you disregard. He knows you.

The third place is a bit of a hole in the wall. The antique store wasn’t on Jack’s mental itinerary of Pittsburgh’s jewelry store offerings, but your gasp at the eye-catching OPEN sign had Jack pulling a u-turn and parking the truck before you could even ask to stop.

“Maggie’s” is a local mom-and-pop vintage shop, owned by a husband and wife nearing retirement. You float through the aisles with Jack on your tail. The treasure trove of homewares and art long forgotten made you forget why you walked into the store in the first place until you came upon a glass jewelry case. In the very center sat an elegant ring—a sturdy but simple gold band supporting a two carat marquise diamond surrounded by smaller colorful stones—perfectly illuminated by the store’s sparse soft yellow lighting. It looks like a spotlight and feels like a sign.

Jack feels you squeeze his palm and he knows this is your ring before his eyes even meet the kind, tender gaze you share with him.

Doctor Abbot takes some uncharacteristic PTO and whisks you away to Nowhere, Pennsylvania for New Year’s weekend. The quiet rural cabin is far from fireworks that might trigger Abbot. It’s a picturesque place where the two of you can just be. The stars have never looked brighter.

There’s no cell service or GPS way out yonder. Halfway into the drive, when four bars of cell service dwindle to one, Jack pulls an atlas and a handful of folded paper maps from the truck’s glove box in front of you. His eyes flicker between the two lane road traveled only by the two of you and the stack of maps until he finds the one he needs.

CENTRAL PENNSYLVANIA. One of the map’s edges has curled into itself. Symmetrical scored indents from the map’s folded position expand across the surface. The ink isn’t as vivid as when it was first printed, faded by time and use, but it still gets the job done.

“Honey… what’s this?” You ask, eyeing the materials splayed on your lap.

“A map.” Jack states it matter of factly, offering no further explanation before returning his calloused palm to your inner thigh.

“What, like from the 1900s?” Your side-eye becomes a full body rotation to stare at Jack across the truck’s bench seat. He pinches the skin of your thigh and you yelp, not expecting the harmless sting.

“Don’t act like your birth year doesn’t also start with ‘19’,” Abbot pokes, placing emphasis on the number. At this point in your relationship, he’s long gotten over any insecurity about the age gap, but that didn’t mean you weren’t still going to have fun calling him archaic.

“Barely,” you mutter with your face scrunched. Caught in between millennials and gen z, you’re equally intrigued and disturbed by whatever the fuck is wrong with both generations.

The winter weather is forgiving enough to allow you to enjoy fireside s’mores under the stars as the clock winds closer to midnight.

Your head rests on Jack’s lap beside the campfire he built by hand. Your mind drifts to visions of him that afternoon prepping. You offered to help him carry the firewood, but Abbot scoffed at the insinuation, as if he was offended you suggested lifting a finger. You can give it as good as you can take it, so he compromises by allowing you to carry the box of matches. In retrospect, it’s a good thing you weren’t holding 20 pounds of firewood anyway, because you can’t tear your eyes away from how Jack’s arms flex as he carries the load from the cabin’s shed to the stone firepit. Watching Jack build the fire was hot, even with the windchill. Your man was good with his hands—something you were well aware of, but it didn’t hurt to see it in action. Abbot positioned the firewood to a tipi position over kindling interwoven between the larger blocks before gratefully accepting a few matches from you. Jack was an eagle scout before he entered the military, but both ensured his fires were flawless. You’re certain you’ll smell the smoke in your hair tomorrow morning, but it will have been well worth it.

At 23:57, Jack’s thigh twitches and shifts underneath you. You hum softly, eyes still trained on the sky with Jack’s warm hand still encapsulating your smaller, colder fingers. Out here, there’s no light pollution—just you and Jack, endless trees, the aromatic expertly-built fire, and stars. So many stars. You see constellations that otherwise could’ve been disregarded as fictional if you’d never seen them like this.

Abbot clears his throat and says your name. Not honey, or love, or sweetheart, or baby. The depth of love in Jack’s eyes, his tender stare and gentle hold of your bundled body let you know that this is it.

You knew the proposal was coming, obviously. You picked the ring out yourself.

As the holiday season winded to a close, you never pushed Jack or asked him when he’d finally pop the question. Abbot would ask when the time was right. You trusted him implicitly, and this was no exception.

Once, he came home to you watching a Hallmark movie, half-asleep with an empty mug of peppermint hot chocolate balanced on your abdomen. The first of many throw blankets you introduced to his home was draped over you, pulled down just far enough to offer a view of your festive sweater. Doctor Abbot’s night shift nurses kindly gifted you a custom pullover for the Pitt’s ugly holiday sweater party. The deep navy blue sweatshirt was covered in multicolor snowflakes with cut-outs of Abbot’s face sprinkled across the fabric. Jack isn’t even sure where they got the picture from, but it quickly became your favorite piece in your ever-expanding wardrobe.

The film played on a low volume as the predictable corny ending scene wrapped up. The ridiculously attractive lumberjack proposed to the business woman who swore she’d never leave the city, in front of a Christmas tree farm with a beautiful ring. Not as beautiful as yours, though.

Abbot admired the scene for a minute—the film, you sleeping soundly, and his winter wonderland of a living room—before he carefully scooped you up and carried you to bed where he knew you’d rest much more comfortably.

Soon, he promised with a kiss to your temple.

Jack carefully shifts you off his leg, cradling your head with care. He supports you to stand, and you hold his hands while he settles down on one knee. Jack’s eyes are watery before he’s even begun his speech. They match the happy tears on your waterline. Your smile is wobbly, and you’re trying your hardest to be patient. Abbot worked on his speech for a long time; like the ring, it needed to be perfect.

Abbot’s speech is beautiful. For a moment, you forget how cold it is. You can only focus on Jack, handsome as ever, kneeling on one knee, extending the ring you picked out together as the winter’s wind blows embers through the night.

The fire illuminates the marquise stone and the jewelry box’s soft light highlights the smaller complementing stones. On the inside of the gold band, there’s a date engraved on the ring that wasn’t there before at Maggie’s. In small script, the day of your first date is followed by a heart. It looks exactly like Jack’s scrawly handwriting.

When you say yes—because of course you do. Yes a million times over, in every universe and lifetime with Jack—he wastes no time slipping the band on your left ring finger. The fit is perfect, and it clings to your finger like it has always belonged there, like it just found its home.

It’s midnight now. A new year, a new ring, embraced with a kiss.

Abbot would be more than happy to find Nowhere, Pennsylvania’s nearest courthouse on New Year’s day and get married right then and there, but he knows you dream of something different.

A late Spring wedding with a small ceremony at the botanical gardens. The Phipps Conservatory and Botanical Gardens wedding venues are booked out over a year in advance, but you know a guy who does event planning for the Carnegie Museum of Art and Phipps.

In May, you walk down the aisle in an elegant white gown that drapes just shy of kissing the nearby florals. Detached ornate tulle sleeves match your veil; the veil’s dainty beaded edges complement the dress’s embroidered bust and train.

Jack has never been happier, he thinks as a tear streams down his cheek before you’ve even met him at the altar. On his wedding day, he traded his black scrubs for a light navy blue three-piece suit. Doctor Jack Abbot is your something blue.

For the wedding reception, you host close family and friends in the house’s backyard.

Abbot was on a first name basis with many local hardware and home improvement store employees after his numerous trips in early Spring to revive the yard from Pittsburgh’s winter. Thriving raised garden beds lined the back perimeter of the yard, serving as a picturesque backdrop for the stone fire pit Jack built. You helped by ogling him as he worked from the porch with a glass of lemonade in hand.

The stringed lights above the garden illuminate your loved ones, along with the blazing fire, built with ashes from New Year’s eve. The first dance flows into several songs played by a string quartet (your biggest splurge for the wedding). Jack holds you in his arms like you’re the center of his universe while you sway together as husband and wife.

The next day, you and Jack are on a flight to Europe for a three week honeymoon. Jack handed a gate agent boarding passes with your new last name on it and you couldn’t help but smile.

Abbot looks pretty damn good on your passport.

a/n 2: Growing up, my Girl Scout troop had this campfire tradition; We saved ashes from each campfire and would dump them into the next one, so each fire burned with ashes of all the ones that came before it. I like to think that Jack and his wife have that tradition with the ashes from their New Year’s Eve fire.

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